No longer a refugee

We came home yesterday afternoon, before the 18:00 curfew. It felt wonderful to be in my own home again, with David. I'd never really entertained the thought that I might not be back, but it still was comforting to see my familiar things--even the crumbling walls and burnt out kitchen light.

 

Yesterday was a long day. In the morning, the gunfire started again at 06:20, just after the curfew lifted. It went on for several hours on the other side of town. We heard nasty rumours about the way Christians were reacting to the previous day and ill-treating Muslims. I don't know how much is true, but I suspect a great deal of it is, and that saddens me more than anything else about this whole ordeal. Somebody mentioned the possibility of a 24-hour curfew, so we thought we'd likely be staying quite a bit longer.

 

By noon, the gunfire had almost stopped altogether, and a group of men from our compound returned to their homes to gather some more food and assess the situation. When they returned and reported to Dad--who had stayed at the other compound, watching Timothy while he slept--Dad decided it would be all right for us to return home. The other families stayed in town, but we packed up our belongings, listened politely to admonitions to stay, and left around 17:15. On the way home, we passed by two destroyed motorcycles, and when we saw the place where we'd seen flames on Friday, Dad told us that it was a mosque, not a shop. I couldn't help but cringe. There were several armoured vehicles near the hospital compound, and lots of soldiers and police.

 

We surprised David, who was visibly glad to see us. Mom and I made pizza for dinner--our usual Friday night fare, since we'd missed it on Friday--and watched a Star Trek Voyager episode. David told me later that he'd been upset when he'd found out we had just up and left on Friday. Mom had told me not to bother calling David at work because the man calling the shots was working with David at the hospital, so David would be appraised of the situation. Well, he hadn't been, and he hadn't gotten my texts until awhile later, after we'd left, since he'd been in surgery when we left the compound. In retrospect, I should have talked to him personally, made sure he knew what was going on. If there ever is a next time, we'll get a chance to discuss it, and maybe I won't have to leave without my husband.

 

This morning has been relatively quiet, with only a few sporadic gunshots. Even most of the churches--probably empty--are quiet, which is extremely rare for a Sunday morning. Usually they'd be blasting their worship music and preaching for the whole neighbourhood to hear. But not this morning. Perhaps this morning we can take a sobering few moments to mourn the dead and seek God's forgiveness.