Outside the Warzone

Outside the warzone, life continues as normal. Certain offices
including mine remain open and we continue on with our daily reports,
meetings and the so important PowerPoint.

Events and their effects have been reduced to a few lines in our
reports and the television with the news on runs in the background,
like background music. Every now and then we look up from our
computer screens and glance at the news, give a sign, and go back to
doing what we were doing.

It's a sad reality, but after two months of violence, on and off, we
have adapted and gotten used to it.

Casualties increase daily but the numbers no longer shock us like
before. We mourn for the dead, but they are increasingly just numbers
on the screen or messages on our Twitter update.

As a friend commented today, little did we imagine that we would one
day know the difference between an M16, M79 or a tear gas gun. Now we
are fully informed so that we may analyze snapshots clearly.

News becomes our lunch time TV.

All this makes me wonder if we are all too insensitive? Too uncaring?
Or if as humans we all just strive for a sense of normalcy?

When we don't know what to do, we resolve to doing what we do best and
that is to go on living with the hope that the government will be able
to sort this problem out.

I think the truth of the matter is that outside the warzone or if it's
somewhere we don't go regularly, we often displace it somewhere to the
back of our minds. It becomes an image that flashes on the screen and
then disappears leaving us to the comfort of our sofa. We stay
somewhat disconnected even if we are regular viewers and truly feel
for the injured. It doesn't hit us in the same way.

After having evacuated from my apartment a little over two days ago,
the difference from being near the war zone and being outside is
starkly noticeable.

There is no tension in the air and the clouds of toxic fumes from
burning tyres are but a view outside the window. Toxic fumes from
fires that have been burning for five days and three nights.

Driving past it on the motorway daily, I start to become accustomed to
it and no longer take out my phone to snap a few pictures.

However the thought never dies. As I sit working at my desk, I keep
wondering to myself: "What am I doing here? Should I be expressing
more concern? Afterall, there are people dying out there while I am
editing my PowerPoint. People's lives are changing and our country
will never be the same."

I should be doing something, but what can I do other than follow
updates and write about it?

Such is my life outside the warzone. Somewhat disconnected from reality.

But which is the reality? Outside or Inside? I don't know.