Just
over a year ago, a tragic event unfolded that seemed to mark a turning point in
Bangladesh. I refer to the savage attack on the Holey Artisan Bakery that
resulted in the death of 22 innocent victims from five countries who were
simply enjoying one another’s company at one of Dhaka’s finest restaurants.
That their lives should come to such an unthinkable end at such a gathering
place shocked Bangladeshis and friends of Bangladesh alike.
We all
suffered many losses that day. In addition to the horrific loss of life, we
began to question whether we could all enjoy this diverse and exciting city
without fear.
Bangladeshis
witnessed a kind of terror not seen in their country before. As foreign
visitors living in Bangladesh’s open, hospitable, and tolerant culture, we lost
the innocence of a presumption that we were not a target of terrorists.
That the
young men who zealously conducted this carnage were products of good homes and
superior educations made the event all the more senseless.
These
privileged youth would likely have been assuming positions of leadership in
their fields within 10 or 15 years had they not destroyed themselves along with
their innocent victims.
On the 1
July anniversary, it is fair to say that Bangladeshis and the expatriate
community had yet to fully come to terms with their loss and pain.
The
moving commemoration that took place on the site of the attack one year later
reminded us that wounds had yet to heal and, more importantly, that the victims
- along with their families and friends -- were not forgotten.
It is the
memories, hopes, and dreams of those lost that must be foremost in our thoughts
and prayers as we continue to try to come to terms with the attack.
I wish I
could speak personally about each of the victims. They were business leaders,
students, and aid workers, all in Dhaka because they wanted to be here; because
they believed in Bangladesh.
Many of
us did not know them personally, but we are united in our grief for the
senseless loss of accomplishment and potential of each of the 22 women and men.
In
response to a brutality meant to foment incapacitating fear, we are instead
inspired by the heroism of one of the youngest to die that day - Faraaz Ayaaz
Hossain -- the Bangladeshi student who stayed with his friends and faced death
rather than be released by the gunmen.
Such a
selfless act challenges us to ask ourselves how we respond to everyday acts of
violence, from bullying to domestic violence to abuse of power.
One
example serves to illustrate how unimaginable loss can inspire action by what
US president Abraham Lincoln called our “better angels.”
It was my
privilege recently to visit a school founded by the mother of Abinta Kabir, a
Bangladeshi American and her mother’s only child who also died in the attack.
Her
family has dedicated themselves to transforming the memory of Abinta into new
schools for poor Bangladeshis - choosing creation rather than destruction,
education and opportunity rather than nihilism and chaos. What a beautiful and
enduring gift in young Abinta’s memory, and to the girls and boys who will
benefit from her vision and her family’s generosity.
The
metaphor of the lotus is apt here. From mud grows a beautiful flower. So too
from this tragedy is growing a new dedication to traditional values all
Bangladeshis hold dear - peace, tolerance and an appreciation of diversity. Our
prayers are with the souls of those lost that night, and their families and
friends as we reflect on their beautiful lives.
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