Kenya's at heightened security alert. Kenyan troops are in neighbouring Somalia. There have been two grenade attacks in Nairobi this week, with loss of life, and a carbomb defused. And people are uneasily aware that - as they'd say in Spooks - this could be a prelude for worse.
I worked in London during the IRA bombing campaign. Lived in South Wimbledon, far, far at the end of the Northern Line. Remember my commuter reactions. Anxiety yes, on discovering that a Central London station was closed due to a bombscare. And then, next beat, calculating look in my eyes, swapping totty heels for trainers, ok, well then walk to Leicester Square, take the 19 bus to Clapham and... Contingency plans, joining the long trails of London commuters tramping the wet pavements homewards.
Once, caught in a scare at London's deepest station at Tottenham Court Road. An anxious five minute evacuation from the final train to enter the station, stiff upper lip, no pushing on the upward escalator, wanting to hold the hand of the kindly woman ahead, but not asking. That duality, evacuating as if it could be true, but failing to act on the impulse for comfort and reassurance.
Lived there again at the time of 9/11 and 7/7. Worked on the edge of the City. Did take toddler and babe on the tube across London and on the train to Wales on the day after 7/7. Risk assessment again.
So how is it in Nairobi now? Big events being cancelled. Sales of fireworks banned. Bomb checks galore. At shopping malls, hotels, even at some schools. Lots of checks, mirrors on poles under cars, boots opened, handbag checks, but maybe not maximum coverage or consistency.
'Is there anything in the boot? No?'
Waves on through.
At many of the malls there are male and female security guards conducting checks. The boys have the toys, the scanners. The girls don't. And peer from above into handbags, cursory, hardly a fingertip search. And the boys with the scanners, when they get a alarm beep, say
'Is that your phone?' and don't check what triggered the alarm.
The prestige malls are empty. Individuals conducting their own risk assessments. We went out for Sunday lunch yesterday. Were amazed to find that the small back-street restaurant we'd chosen, usually deserted on Sundays, was packed with families who'd decided to veto the formerly very popular - overly popular for current times - upmarket caff a block away.
Nine year old SecondBorn reported that his friends, fellow nine year old boys, had told him:
'Not to go to the supermarket on Saturday or Sunday. Or if you do go, don't stay longer than 20 minutes.'
We'd concur, and don't. Go to smaller shops to buy our milk or coathangers at present. But otherwise public life goes on. Just at less busy times, in less popular places, in houses not in cafes. And with my trombone, in its case, removed from the boot of the car.
I worked in London during the IRA bombing campaign. Lived in South Wimbledon, far, far at the end of the Northern Line. Remember my commuter reactions. Anxiety yes, on discovering that a Central London station was closed due to a bombscare. And then, next beat, calculating look in my eyes, swapping totty heels for trainers, ok, well then walk to Leicester Square, take the 19 bus to Clapham and... Contingency plans, joining the long trails of London commuters tramping the wet pavements homewards.
Once, caught in a scare at London's deepest station at Tottenham Court Road. An anxious five minute evacuation from the final train to enter the station, stiff upper lip, no pushing on the upward escalator, wanting to hold the hand of the kindly woman ahead, but not asking. That duality, evacuating as if it could be true, but failing to act on the impulse for comfort and reassurance.
Lived there again at the time of 9/11 and 7/7. Worked on the edge of the City. Did take toddler and babe on the tube across London and on the train to Wales on the day after 7/7. Risk assessment again.
So how is it in Nairobi now? Big events being cancelled. Sales of fireworks banned. Bomb checks galore. At shopping malls, hotels, even at some schools. Lots of checks, mirrors on poles under cars, boots opened, handbag checks, but maybe not maximum coverage or consistency.
'Is there anything in the boot? No?'
Waves on through.
At many of the malls there are male and female security guards conducting checks. The boys have the toys, the scanners. The girls don't. And peer from above into handbags, cursory, hardly a fingertip search. And the boys with the scanners, when they get a alarm beep, say
'Is that your phone?' and don't check what triggered the alarm.
The prestige malls are empty. Individuals conducting their own risk assessments. We went out for Sunday lunch yesterday. Were amazed to find that the small back-street restaurant we'd chosen, usually deserted on Sundays, was packed with families who'd decided to veto the formerly very popular - overly popular for current times - upmarket caff a block away.
Nine year old SecondBorn reported that his friends, fellow nine year old boys, had told him:
'Not to go to the supermarket on Saturday or Sunday. Or if you do go, don't stay longer than 20 minutes.'
We'd concur, and don't. Go to smaller shops to buy our milk or coathangers at present. But otherwise public life goes on. Just at less busy times, in less popular places, in houses not in cafes. And with my trombone, in its case, removed from the boot of the car.
I can't imagine living in such an environment, I would imagine one never gets "used" to it, no matter how long they might live there. It is interesting the kids are even aware of the heightened security, but of course a necessity. I'll say a prayer.....
ReplyDeletebetty