February 3, 2010
I was reluctant to write on this matter because I do not wish to be apart of the culture of hysteria regarding the issue of suicide terrorism. However, after a long discussion with my father, I have been encouraged to express my experience. Recently, I have devoted my scholarship largely to the issue of suicide terrorism; studying counter-terrorism in Israel hardly allows one to escape the topic. As part of a research inquiry, I have spent much of my time examining the various aspects of the matter. Predominantly I have sought to comprehend reasons behind female suicide terrorism, researching everything from the feminist movement to martyrdom, as an effort to understand and combat extremism.
Since this subject has been at the forefront of much of my thoughts, I have made it the topic of numerous discussions with my classmates. The other night, while in a study group for a final examination, I brought it up, seeking discourse with my peers. Our conversation was spent considerably on the tactical approaches of the "H-bomb" as it is referred to, meaning "human bomb" or the ultimate smart bomb. We discussed the thinking of a suicide terrorist, such as where he or she would sit on a bus. I mentioned that when I was living in Jerusalem a friend told me that statistically speaking, passengers sitting closer to the driver of the bus are more likely to survive the blast as some of the drivers have survived in past attacks. The majority of us concluded that this was probably not an accurate assessment and terrorists usually sit in the middle of the bus in order to kill or injure as many people as possible.
By and large, although not aware of it, I became overwhelmed with fear regarding this type of terrorism. My only method of transportation in this country is public transportation. That same night, Dru and I boarded the #29 bus home, we sat at the back of the bus, one of our usual seats to sit in. A man got on the bus and sat in the first seat behind the door that is located at the center of the bus. I could not help but notice that he was an Arab. He wore a brown, leather bomber jacket and had a small sack in his hand, what looked like he had just come from the supermarket. Initially, I was unprovoked. Yet, I kept an eye on him. I examined every inch of him; his sneakers, his jeans, his newly trimmed haircut (which is an attribute many suicide bombers have- a clean shave so that they look their best before meeting their maker). As I scrutinized him, I realized that he rarely looked out the windows of the bus, instead he stared straight ahead, which I realized sitting close to him, that the visibility through the windshield of the bus was not great as it was dark outside. The only time he afforded to look out the window was when we passed a police car whose blue lights provoked his attention. As the bus passed the police car, the man nearly turned all they way around in his seat until it was completely out of his sight. I began to feel a little excited, although I didn't want to tell Dru. Instead I just observed.
Another aspect of the man that heightened my awareness of him, was the position in which he sat. He looked incredibly uncomfortable as he sat slightly slouched forward, of course the only reason I could come up with was that whatever explosives he had strapped and wired to his torso was causing him some discomfort; not to mention the added weight of this material was probably foreign to him. The thickness of his bomber jacket that was zipped-up, left little room for me to believe that it was just a t-shirt underneath. Finally, he took a cellphone out of the pocket of his jeans and that is when my silence broke! I exclaimed, "I want to get off at the next stop! I want off!" Dru, of course flashed the most puzzled look and spat back, "what is your problem?" Quietly, I spewed every detail of the man sitting catty-corner to us and that I was panicking. It has been a few years at least since a bus has been blown up, but that was the point; this could be the first attempt after a long run of quiet, and how perfect it would be in the upper-class area of Herzliya, the unofficial home of the Mossad and many diplomats from all over the world. Dru, being trained in this field of seeking out the "bad guys" began to observe for himself. We were so close at this point to our stop that we stayed. The cell phone began to ring, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest as I imagined it to be a remote detonator. It was not. However, the man began to speak Arabic, which is not usual in these parts. I tried to listen to pick up any vocabulary I knew. The man got upset, he was pointing at the driver, all of this occurring as I am trying to talk myself down. We got out of our seats and headed towards the man; the bus stopped and Dru quickly ushered out of the bus, meanwhile a strap on my backpack was stuck on my seat. As I freed the strap I passed his seat, hastily looking for explosives he may have left behind. I jumped out of the bus.
As I landed, I tripped, impaling myself into the back of Dru, whose senses were provoked by my hysteria. He turned around as if he wanted to kill me! We walked off towards home and the man walked in the other direction. I laughed in relief and teased Dru saying "Thank God I was not in your unit in Iraq, I would have been the Barney Fife!"
The lesson learned in this traumatizing event is that our lives here have taught us that the way of life here is much different than at home. Me, Kellie Dunlap, of Littleton, Colorado, never imagined that I would have to worry about a suicide bomber anywhere near me. But, this is the reality I live in here. I chose to share this because I wanted to convey the seriousness of this threat. In my last blog, I tried to convey that the sophomoric attempts by recent terrorists are still a great danger. It may not be long before, we Americans, are sitting on the Light Rail or on an RTD bus paranoid because it happened in another U.S. city. Americans need to understand that radical Islam is not going to stop; yes, they are struggling to carry out the spectacular attacks we saw on 9/11, but they are still driven to inflict casualties on our population and suicide terrorism is strategic; it is cheap, it is spontaneous and dramatically influences a society's morale.
Contrastingly, one must seek a balance. I regret that I profiled someone who was simply on his way home. But this is the dilemma we face; the enemy is unconventional. They do not wear uniforms when they board buses or sit in a cafe and detonate themselves and therefore all Muslims bear the brunt of these radicals.
