Thinking of Home

Since I’ve been in Jamaica, there have been at least three distinct tragedies of mass violence against the civilian population of the United States of America. And I’ve been gone for 12 months.

Since I’ve been in Jamaica, there has not been a single attack by a citizen on a random group of citizens here. Murders, homicides and the typical violence that Jamaica is known for have of course occurred, with a few particularly effed up outliers, but these occurrences have never made me personally feel unsafe. I stay away from violent men, gang related business and drug related situations. I am obviously not a part of the collective population, even the general domestic dispute is avoided in front of me.

But yesterday, a PCF (peace corps friend) with internet called me in case I hadn’t heard about the bombs that had exploded at the Boston Marathon. I hadn’t, of course- I live in an internet-less bubble of Jamaican culture and hadn’t heard the radio since early morning. But my heart stopped and tears filled my eyes as I remembered cheering on my mother at that exact marathon around 7 years ago. My mother and my baby sister are avid runners and my sister runs cross country for Tufts University in Boston. Shit, shit, shit.

A call to my mother calmed my fears, Sis is ok, but she was at the marathon, at mile 24, cheering on a friend. I realized with extreme guilt that my family had had a very stressful and emotional day as their youngest daughter negotiated the panic stricken streets of Boston, unsure of exactly what had happened but knowing that travel the two miles to the finish line was no longer on the to-do list. I wished I’d been there, or at least been aware of the tragedy sooner.

This is not an event that many here can empathize with. Nothing like September 11th, the Columbine shootings or any of the other screwed up things that happen in America happens in Jamaica. Bad people are just not on the side of God here, it’s sad but it’s a truth. And it’s a difficult logic to argue without opening up a whole new can of worms.

Laying in bed last night I was seized with the fear of it happening again, taking my loved one. I’m out of the loop and all I know is that it was a citizen attack on other citizens. Do they know who it is? Has he been caught yet? I won’t know until I reach the internet later today. But in my mind, a psychopath who would murder a crowd of marathon runners, is still at large, and my baby sister is still in the city.

Have you even been to a marathon, dear reader? Well, it’s kind of like being at a street party full of goodwill towards man. It’s one of the most uplifting, motivated and inspiring  events you can attend. The Boston Marathon even more-so, since there is a qualifying time to even run it. No one wants anyone else to fail, everyone is proud of complete strangers and the support system is unanimous. I remember the energy and I don’t need to see the news clips to imagine the complete physical and psychological devastation that ensued.

There is not a single cliché that can calm my nerves today. “All things happen for a reason” “God is good” “The world is good and people are bad.” I don’t truly believe any of that. I honestly believe that people are good, but I think our lifestyles are poison. People become unhinged and mentally unstable because of a disconnect with reality, and America seems to be all about disconnecting with reality and building a bubble of ideal perfection molded by the cacophony of cultural sound-waves that can mess with even the stoniest of minds. I’m not going to go off on my own beliefs in the inherent therapy of nature, and I can’t write anything even resembling succinct re: the state of our country. So I won’t. But, unlike on September 11th 2001, I am old enough to feel that my own bubble of perfection has been pierced by evil. This story is too close to home, and I’m too far away.

My thoughts are with the victims and attendees of the Boston Marathon, may you find peace of mind in time.