What It’s Like to See Your Country Go through a Terrorist Attack While Studying Abroad

By: Annabelle Timsit

November 16, 2015

As a Georgetown student getting ready to study abroad, as with everything else in your life, you prepare yourself as much as possible. You peruse blogs and information brochures, talk to deans and program advisers, contact former program participants, and the list goes on. You try to prepare yourself for every kind of scenario—from losing your passport to not being able to register for classes…and I did all of that. But the one thing that no one prepared me for was how I would feel when I would eventually see my home country come under terrorist fire while studying abroad here, in Brazil.

I was walking home from Copacabana Beach last Friday night when my phone vibrated in my backpack. For some reason I don’t quite know, I pulled it out in the middle of the street, which you are never supposed to do because thieves operate near the area. Perhaps it was a premonition, or just the fact that it was Friday the thirteenth. Regardless, I pulled my phone out and saw the BBC notification that there had been multiple terrorist attacks in Paris and that dozens were presumed dead.

I rushed back to my apartment and turned on the television; live media coverage of the events hadn’t yet reached Brazilian networks, but thankfully my host mother had subscribed to international news channels, and I was able to sit with her in the living room and watch the events unfold. I called my family, my friends, trying to ascertain whether everyone I knew was safe. Once I did this, I was able to properly feel the horror of—once again—watching my country be attacked by forces affiliated with the Islamic State. I was able to grieve for the families and friends of the 127 victims, and grieve for my city, my country, and the shared values that were attacked with the swift vengeance of a Kalashnikov.

Instead of staying home, I went to take a walk in Copacabana. What I saw there was heartwarming; people in cafes everywhere were watching the events unfold on televisions (which is saying a lot, because Brazil was playing Argentina that same night). The people I knew at my gym all asked me to explain the events to them. I received calls from Brazilian friends wanting to understand and make sense of it all. Through the horror of what my family and friends were going through back home, and the darkness of my imagination, one thing that made me happy was the care and friendship I received from people I had come to know and love.

In all the discussions that I had with Brazilians, one thing came out clearer than any other. Every single person emphasized the need for interreligious understanding and empathy. Brazil, I have realized, is marvelously tolerant of religious differences. I believe it comes from its history of syncretism, whereby the dominant Portuguese religion of Roman Catholicism mixed with the religious traditions of African slaves and indigenous people, such as the Candomblé religion. I’ve also encountered Protestants, atheists, Spiritists, Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims, and I know that there are many more.

All my Brazilian friends told me that religions must spread love and peace, not hatred and fear. If people claiming to be of a certain religion were killing innocent people, then they were representative of a societal problem that we could only solve through more love, more tolerance, and more compassion. When I came home from talking to them, I saw on my phone that Parisians had started opening their apartments to victims of the attacks who were stranded in security areas with the hashtag #PortesOuvertes (Open Door) on social media. It gave me hope that, perhaps, we were taking my Brazilian friends’ advice.

Finally, as I finished my walk, something caught my attention, that will probably remain one of my most vivid memories from my time abroad; the Christ statue, overlooking the city of Rio de Janeiro, lit up in red, white, and blue.

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