Yesterday morning the world was still normal, messy, chaotic. I was caught up in a rush to get to work, having had a major wardrobe malfunction. I had an event in the evening and needed to take full “Threads-Feet-Hair-Body Kit” to work.
Now, the clothing crisis is a regular occurrence, I don’t like shopping and as a result I do not even have half a fraction of a Taylor-esque closet to make things easier. Most of my clothes are so old that all I have to do is wait patiently for the cycles of fashion to go round and make a staple item cool again.
In fact, what was also making me late was the fact that my hair was also having a bad day. I might add that this is a regular occurrence as well since I started to try and grow it out a couple of years ago. The limp seaweed of silk (the kind that loves to reveal Spock ears) will still be problematic for years to come.
Then there was the Little Man who was all a-dither with the fact that I was all a-dither and he got infected with my issues – do I wear Batman with the black background and mask or Superman with the cape to school? Argh!
MUUUUUUUUM! My superhero shorts are missing!
In retrospect, I look on that morning as quaint and very silly. Because when I got into the office at 9am, reality bit. Hard. With razor teeth.
My very good friend’s world was shoved into a full-blown hellfire and brimstone mode.
His daughter had just narrowly escaped being abducted by a group of men, armed with machetes (parang), lying in wait for her.
At the ripe old age of eight, the promise or should I say illusion of the world being big and interesting and vast suddenly shrank to encapsulate one moment that will forever define the crack in her world.
The force of which will crush her blissfully innocent childhood bubble into a flat disk of fear and vulnerability, forever affixed over her heart like a shield. One she might never end up shedding.
What does this do to a child? Or to the adult they have yet to become? They say that children are hardy little adaptable creatures who are miraculously able to survive and triumph over life’s calamitous offerings.
If we are talking tsunamis or hurricanes or any such force of nature, we could all be forgiven for saying “not our fault” or “no way we could have stopped this.”
These “happenings” are the kind of things that are not in the hands of mere mortals but the roll of dice played by the hands of the old gods, the new gods, the one god or the no-god.
But we aren’t talking seismic disruptions here. This is all man-made. Are we all to blame? Society? We live daily with nefarious undertows that hold us all to ransom and make us all wonder what safe means anymore.
After this horrific episode, it seems the act of stealing precious things is flagrantly commonplace.
In the space of two days surrounding the attempted abduction, six people I knew well had had direct experiences of this happening. One friend said two attempts were made at his daughter’s school, another told me about his colleague who had someone try and snatch her daughter away at the mall exit. I could list them all but I think you get my point.
For me to know this many who have had to fight to keep their precious children safe is diabolical. One can understand Parental Vigilantism.
If there is one thing that can unify our kaleidoscopic political, religious and social views is the fact that we must all demand a safe country. Our children must be kept safe. They are precious, far beyond being just ours.
They need to be whole in heart and mind in order to take this country into the future.
Being afraid is crippling. It breeds fear, ignorance and closed minds. It is also a breeding ground for an even more broken society; one we cannot afford to allow, given our current health.
I can handle many things being a regular occurrence in my life, the threat of my child’s safety is not one I am willing to accept. So what are we going to do about it?
Asha Gill put her globetrotting life on hold to focus on the little man in her life and gain a singular perspective on the world. You can tune in to Asha on Capital FM 88.9, Mondays to Fridays, 10am-1pm. She’s always looking for stories to tell and ideas to share, so send her an email at star2@thestar.com.my.
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