Relieved to be alive

SOLIDARITY People lay flowers at a square in Brussels city centre.

Former Mayo News journalist Olof Gill works as a speechwriter at the European Commission. He was at work in Brussels when the terrorist attacks took place last week

“Good man Gill, the Jihadis didn’t get you!” This was the friendly greeting I received from one of my neighbours when I came home to Clare Island on Holy Thursday last week. I was relieved to be home, relieved to hear familiar voices, and relieved to be alive.
Two days earlier, on Tuesday, March 22, I had been at a work event in Brussels, when I received word about a bomb in the airport. My colleagues and I sat glued to our phones, as the news arrived about a second blast at Maelbeek metro station.
I was attending a morning conference in downtown Brussels, and we were instructed to remain in the venue until further notice. There was an atmosphere of uncertainty and fear, as people read the unfolding news and contacted friends and family.
Like most people, my immediate instinct was to let my loved ones know I was safe, and to check in on my friends and colleagues in the EU area. I have an office immediately beside Maelbeek Metro Station, and it is a station I regularly use. Furthermore, I had been in Zaventem Airport just 12 hours earlier on Monday night. It would only have taken a small twist of fate for me to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As the morning progressed, it became clear that this was an orchestrated terrorist attack. My colleagues in the building near Maelbeek were evacuated, while the Berlaymont building which serves as the EU Commission’s headquarters was in total lockdown – no-one was allowed in or out. We were advised by our superiors to go home and stay indoors.
I decided to take a city bike back to my apartment, as the metro system was shut down. I cycled outside the perimeter of the police barricade, as dozens of police and army vehicles whizzed by, sirens blaring. Armed men in uniforms with their faces covered patrolled the EU quarter.
I spent the remainder of Tuesday working from home, and watching the news reports. Social media were extremely helpful in getting real-time information and learning people’s whereabouts. As dozens were confirmed dead, and hundreds badly injured, we waited with trepidation to hear the names and nationalities of the victims.
The details emerging from the bombings made for grim reading. ISIS claimed responsibility, and harrowing footage emerged from the airport and metro station. Blood, smoke, broken glass, children screaming.
When I woke up on Wednesday morning, the shock and adrenaline had abated, and I felt strong emotions of sadness and anger. Sadness for the victims and their families, sadness for my adopted city of Brussels, sadness at the inevitable stream of hateful rhetoric from point-scoring extremist politicians. Anger, too, that innocent people going about their daily lives had been butchered. Anger that I felt powerless to do anything useful.

Gesture of defiance
And yet, through the simple act of going to work, I believe I was doing something useful. By maintaining our daily routine, we all participated in a small but meaningful gesture of defiance. Terrorists want to create an atmosphere of fear and confusion. In response, normality is our strongest and most effective way of retaliating.
The cruel actions of a few deluded fanatics can never outweigh the power of humanity, decency and civilization. And history has a way of exposing and defeating extremists.
I was immensely touched by the reaction of the Belgian people. Having suffered a terrorist attack in their capital city, they responded with grace, warmth, humour and common sense. They displayed what Michael Davitt once called “the triumph of what was forgiving over what was revengeful”.
Meanwhile, I’m not too proud to admit that my strongest urge was to get home to hug my mother and pat my dog. A gang of us had months ago booked flights for Easter break, and we were rerouted to fly out of Charleroi Airport.
After a long journey, I made it back, and this article is being written from the comfort and safety of my family home on Clare Island. I’m looking out at a heaving sea, and I can hear dogs barking outside. The daffodils are swaying nervously in the southwesterly wind. My mother is baking a cake and my father, who is a law unto himself at the best of times, is probably making a video of himself reciting a poem up a tree. I’m very happy to be home and safe.

Life goes on
And I’m also confident in the knowledge that life goes on. The expats of Brussels will go back to work. We’ll still fly home from Zaventem and grumble politely about the increased security. The local GAA team will still train on Monday and Thursday evenings. We’ll order a few well-earned Belgian beers in our broken French.
Above all else, I feel a renewed gladness to be alive and well. There has been immense collective relief and gratitude among my Brussels friends to have survived what one great and deeply missed Clare Islander would have wryly described as “madness, boy!”.
Many thanks to all my friends and neighbours on Clare Island and across the plains of sweet Mayo for your thoughts and messages.
Last words to a friend from Co Clare who was in Zaventem Airport when the first bombs went off. He was physically unharmed, but understandably shaken. He wrote on his Facebook page: “Pretty awful day - was in the check-in area in the airport where bomb went off. Managed to escape without major injury. Still a bit dazed and confused, phoneless and keyless but staff have helped a lot. Thanks for all the messages. Value your friends and family - they’re all that matter.”