A close call

As you all know my husband Gerard has been in Kabul for the last year. He works for the World Food Programme and took on this hardship non family post after much thought and deliberation. Yes we knew it was risky! But once the decision was made, we refused to be bogged down with negative thoughts and took on the challenge of living the life of a non distance family with as much gumption as we could.

We have adjusted amazingly well to Indian life. The kids go to a great school and as we watch them thrive and soar we feel relieved and proud. I have found my corner of contentment. A great job that challenges me and gives me the flexibility to successfully run errands, car pool, attend every single school event, good friends and neighbors who take the time to drown in margaritas with me on days that are overwhelming and my parents who are always just a call away- ah the life of a single mother! 

Yes the months have flown by and though there are moments when I feel lonely and miss Gerard with an ache that numbs every nerve, all things considered- we’ve done pretty darn well!

Then a few weeks back, as I was out with the kids at a mall, Gerard called. In a very calm voice he told me that there had been a blast in the vicinity of his guest house and as a precaution he was going to the bunker (basement) of his guesthouse. As the night progressed, more details emerged. The blast had been a car bomb some 30 m away. Three other suicide bombers made their way to a house right opposite. They had been surrounded by the Afghan special force and International Security Forces. There was a gun battle for the next 8 hours.

Amidst the noise of grenades and fire arms the occupants of WFP guest house 2, donned their bullet proof vests and helmets and remained alert and calm. Though they were in constant touch with the outside world via radio and phone, they did not realize the scale of danger that actually surrounded them. I was speaking to him every half hour or so. My head was thudding and a swarm of uninvited thoughts whirled round and round. I was screaming like a banshee on the inside but on the outside I was cool and collected, giving the kids dinner, administering TLC to child no 3 (who had a bad fall at the mall and who in other circumstances I would have rushed to the emergency room- but more on that another timeJ) and finally putting them to bed. They knew the basics of what was happening. But their innocence prevented them from perceiving any real threat and so they went easily to bed after asking Jesus to keep their dada safe.

Up until 1 am, the gun battle continued. At last they received news that two of the bombers had been killed and a third had detonated his bomb. Not wanting to take a chance, Gerard and a few others however remained in the bunker until morning. The Taliban had taken responsibility for the offensive.

Day light came and with it the reality that was the night before. Parts of the bombed car lay strewn everywhere, a gun (probably one of the bomber’s) was found in the Guest House compound, . But the biggest shock came when Gerard went to his room and found the glass shattered and a bullet hole right above his bed. A stray bullet… Its then that it hit him, how close the call really had been.

In the meanwhile, I had survived the night and though very very shaken, was thankful for the graces that had kept our family intact. We were lucky. A hundred things could have happened that night that changed the fate of the occupants of Guest House no 2. But they didn't. Gerard was safe.

I can’t think of what’s ahead. It’s pointless. I could spend the next year swathed in a cloak of worry, apprehension and fear or I could shrug the cloak and just not think at all. My confidence is broken, but life goes on. He is home now for two weeks and as we savor each moment, we will find ways to strengthen each other. Life is fragile.