TheCable

BY PELU AWOFESO

I was at the Bristol International Airport, browsing the shelves of WH Smith while waiting to board a flight to Newcastle when my eye caught the cover headline of The Independent: “New terror attack on Ankara”. The blast, similar to the one in the same city the previous month, killed dozens and the toll, as is always the case, was expected to climb. The world was reeling from another mindless massacre of innocent souls.

For the second time in barely 24 hours I was saddened, saddened by the cruelty of a few on the majority; just last night, it was also in the news that jihadists had attacked a popular beach hangout in Cote D’Ivoire. No less than 15 people had died, and the locals, just as in Turkey, were traumatised.

The migrant crisis in Europe has raged for months. While the media is doing its best to keep on top of things, world leaders are discussing how best to contain the situation. As I write this, tourists on the Greek island of Lesbos have jettisoned their holidays and are helping to rescue refugees fleeing the war in Syria.

From Nigeria (Boko Haram) to Libya (ISIL), the world is currently facing one of the most relentless assaults on our shared humanity. In Syria, the peace and daily routines of 22 million people have been significantly disrupted, resulting in nearly five million refugees (6.6 million internally displaced) and a quarter of a million dead persons, including children. This sad state of affairs really ought not to be, if one considers the reality that the world is now more or less a single community. Products and services once locallised in one place in the past (just think iPhone, Toyota and Facebook) have spread to far-flung countries, blurring the borders.

It is my eight day on a sightseeing trip in Britain, and if there is anything I have observed, it is a world that is at peace with its multicultural makeup and also with itself. While strolling on the sidewalk or seated in the tube, I have been thrilled by the sight of locals coexisting peaceably with other residents who apparently have their roots elsewhere—Asians, Africans, Arabs, you name it. Whether you were born here or you are visiting, we are all experiencing the 4^oC weather, our bodies encased in jackets and mufflers, and our hands tucked in the side pockets or in gloves.

But then, to a large extent, we are all on our lanes. Everyone is minding their own business, either as individuals or as groups, which is fine. No one that I have seen in the past week has cursed anyone or punched anyone in the face. Instead, I have seen courtesy (“Sorry, mate”) expressed in many ways for slight and unintended infractions; I have been helped to find my way—on the occasions when I have missed it—by total strangers, with a grin to boot. I have smiled at strangers myself and they have smiled back, because a smile is a friendly gesture and it means the same thing anywhere in the world. It cannot be misinterpreted for something sinister or negative.

Humanity is one and the same, whichever way we choose to look at it and every village, town or city in the world is challenged one way or another. There are homeless people in Lagos as there are in London; there are youths the world over who engage in anti-social behavior, be they Americans or Chinese; households are experiencing hard times, from Brazil to Bangladesh; and the aged are trying to cope in fast-paced, tech-driven world, from Canada to Cambodia.

I have seen an array of restaurants here in Britain, some of them proudly brandishing their national identities (Hungarian Food and Wines, for example). I have met people from different nationalities in Thai and Indian restaurants, all of them savouring their meals in peace and quiet. One thing is undisputable: our tongues have gone international. They don’t discriminate. If we can all blend with one another as far as our eating and techy habits are concerned, then why can’t we have a world free of violence? It is quite scary to imagine a car-bomb going off while I am taking a walk or while at a cinema.

A few days ago, after I had stepped out at a train station, a woman I didn’t know offered to help me carry one of my heavy luggage. It was a pleasant surprise. I declined twice, she insisted—twice! We walked together for minutes until I got to my corner of London, and we both said goodbye, smiling one to each other. (I also said “Thank you”, of course). Even in this –mind-your-business-and-I-mind-mine place, people still reach out to other people when they sense a need. That is the world we should have, a world that shows concern for the plight of others, even if we are not blood relations, a world in which we are a family of nations.

Awofeso sent in this piece from London, where he is currently holidaying