Banish fear for prayer
I was planning to go home to Marawi City last week, and fear kept haunting me. I was afraid that I might lose my job for reporting too late at the office. I was afraid that I might miss the only chance I had to complete my school requirements. I was afraid of the disappointment that I might cause in my professors. I was afraid that I might fail to reach my dreams.
All these thoughts were overwhelming me, but I was still excited to go home—excited to see my family, friends, teachers and students.
And then I heard more terrifying news that broke my excitement. A terrorist group had infiltrated Marawi, my hometown. My workplace. My playground.
I feel something really powerful inside me: fear. So this is the real impact of fear, I tell myself. I cannot sleep thinking of my hometown. I cannot eat thinking of its people. I cannot feel at ease knowing they are terrified.
I fear for the future. That day I was in touch with my sister, and she was excitedly updating me on her senior high school application. She was most excited when I told her that she should visit my alma mater, Dansalan College. I told her she should enroll there no matter what, because it could greatly help her and her future.
My alma mater is my second home. It made me who I am today. It opened my eyes to who we all are, and our shared humanity. It taught me that no tags can stop people from being civil to one another, from becoming friends, and that no religion, race, or status should hinder the good relations that should exist within our society.
But then the terrorists burned it down. They razed my second home, which had never had any conflict with them. It was a home that existed because many young people needed it, and many more would still be needing it.
I cannot imagine my hometown without my second home. Dansalan College has been an epitome of excellence in Marawi City. It has molded many professionals and leaders, some of whom have made their mark globally. And I am afraid that my sister will not be able to experience the quality education that my alma mater has given me.
I fear for the future that has changed because of this siege.
I fear for my teachers who have made Dansalan College what it was. I have tried to avoid thinking of where they are and how they are because I dare not think of the worst. News has been spreading and I do not know who and what to believe. All I can do is weep. Yet, I hope that with God’s will they are fine and safe for I cannot imagine the future of Dansalan College, the students, and their families without them. Let them be safe, dear God.
I fear for the people of Lanao del Sur. There are a lot of posts in social media that are causing fear among many people, posts offering unverified information: a number of people have been killed, houses have been ransacked and occupied by the gunmen, the hospital is under their control, the city jail and chapel have been torched, motorcycle drivers have been killed, many people have been taken hostage… What’s true and what’s not, I do not know.
But one thing is for sure: My hometown has become a place of terror. Its residents have no choice but to leave their homes and their livelihoods. I fear for the people of Lanao del Sur and what will become of them. Will they be all right? Will they be able to find food and drink, will they be able to sleep? Will they be able to survive this trauma?
And most especially, will they still be able to trust God? I hope they will. I cannot imagine the people of Lanao del Sur losing trust. In this situation, we have to strengthen our faith in our Creator. We have to believe that everything will be fine soon, that this is not a nightmare but a test—a test of our faith.
Besides, this conflict is not about religion. It is about the people who interpret their religion in accordance with their self-interest. Let us stop using our religion, any religion, as an excuse for wrongdoing. Let us behave as human beings with no tag, no race, no status, and no religion. Let us be human for once.
Let us give hope for the children who as yet know nothing about the cruelty of the world. I fear that they might hate this world because of this experience. Let them live as children with hopes and dreams.
Lastly, I fear for my powerlessness.
Being away from my family and friends, I am sleepless and fearful that the worst might happen without my knowledge. I fear that I do not deserve to eat and drink while they are living their days in anxiety. I fear for my inability to help or to do something for the people of my hometown.
Yet, there is this urge inside me to do something. To move. To act. To help. But how? I do not know. The only things I can do are to write and to pray. Write for justice and pray for peace. I wish both are really powerful acts even if I am powerless.
I hope to gain prayers from people who sympathize and aid from people who are capable. Let us not condemn religion and debate endlessly about it. Let us unite and be powerful, and live the cliché “Together we can change the world.”
Let fear be gone and in its place, let hope and peace hold sway in everyone’s heart. And pray for Marawi. Pray for the world.
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Ainnah Abdul Jabbar, 24, is a private-school teacher.
