Till it happens to you

It comes up every time a large number of people die a violent, senseless death: why do we care more about Paris (Nice, Brussels, etc) than we care about Istanbul, Baghdad, Beirut, etc. The debate heats up and includes comments that question, albeit rhetorically, when we will see a #prayforBeni post.

Thing is, we won't. And the explanation, I think, is rather simple. We care about whom and what we know. I'm no expert on the matters of the human mind, other than the fact that I have one, but I think it's difficult to relate, especially emotionally, to something abstract. Places we've never been to, people we don't know, are abstract. How many people you had to account for at the Istanbul airport that day? Maybe the occasional traveling one, who was, by the way, in transit, relatively far from the actual trouble. How many you had to worry for in Brussels? I, for about a dozen. That's when it hit closest. And although I have nobody in Nice, it is a weird feeling to picture that promenade where we were strolling with Shari and it was so damn cold, in a state of sheer panic.

The rest remains abstract, unreal; Beni most of all.

I'm not trying to excuse the way we act and react, but I think it's the main reason. And the way we consume news and information these days – you choose the channels you follow, and most probably your friends are from a similar culture so they will care about the same things and you get somewhat stuck in the same circle, with the same news focusing on the same region, geographical or cultural.

The solution? I doubt there is one, but love thy neighbour sounds like a good start. Get to know people from Beirut, Baghdad, Istanbul, from places and cultures initially foreign for you. They will stop being abstract, and you will be able to relate more.

Then you can worry about more people in more places when something happens, because all of a sudden it's not something remote, but it's happening, even if indirectly, to you. Then you understand, the bell always tolls for you.

I know my kingdom awaits

Home is not a place. I suspect I've known it for a while; I've had and keep having many homes, some are in places I've always only been a visitor, and I'm slowly recognizing that home, in fact, is not a geographical term.

The house you grew up in and never left is of course a home. But very few of us have that house still, and even fewer of us have never left it. For those of us who did leave, and returned to either the house or ourselves being in a changed state, the search for home is on ever since.

Good news: once given up on the idea of „the one” home, we can see that homes are everywhere.

Home is in any city where you don't need a hotel room. Where you can cook, because you know where to find all the devices in the kitchen, even if it's not yours. Where you bump into people you know on the street. Where you find your way without a map, relying on landmarks more than street names. Home is where you know your reference points, literal and figurative, even if they keep changing. At home, you know where you are.

Home is people, too. Conversations where you can say what you think without being judged for it, debates where you can disagree without dismissing the others' opinions. It's inside jokes and terrible puns, and if you’re doing it right, it's also comments that would sound awfully un-PC in any other context. At home you dare to make those jokes because you know that they know what you mean and what you don't mean. Home is where you feel you belong – a feeling our band of gypsies is so eagerly after.

Home is time. Time you spent somewhere, a period of your life that has been instrumental in your personal development. Important in becoming who you are today; or in building who you will be tomorrow. In short, home is where you know who you are, and its geographical location is but a stage decor.

Home, they say, is where the heart is. Now that's good news, considering that your heart, in the vast majority of the cases, stays within your body. Meaning that your heart is wherever you are. Meaning that your home can be anywhere you go. you carry it in your heart, and you're never without it