Bali - Paradise Lost.

Bali - Paradise Lost.

I was initially rather nervous about today's speech, not so much because I knew I was going to be assessed, but because the topic was really important to me. I got rather emotional writing the speech, but the raw pain I felt five years ago has dulled to an ache. The last thing I wanted was to screw the speech up, and thankfully I did pretty well instead.

"Good afternoon. My topic today is terrorism. Don't worry, I wil not be talking about how I think we should deal with terrorism, or discuss its impact in facts and figures. What I am going to share with you instead is my personal recount of Bali before and after the terrorist attacks, and I hope to bring you with me on a short trip down memory lane. I chose Bali because the island holds a special place in my heart.

Now, a short introduction to Bali. It is an island in Indonesia and with its lush paddy fields, majestic mountains and gorgeous beaches, it is no wonder that it is also known as the Island of the Gods. I don't come from a family of avid travelers, although I love traveling, and my first official holiday apart from short trips to Malaysia was to Bali. They say you never forget your first love. It was June 2002, the year I turned 16, and although it has been almost 5 years now, some memories never quite fade.

I remember many things about my first trip. I remember the sweet Balinese air - an intoxicating mix of salty sea breeze and fragrant frangipanis. I remember the hustle and bustle of tourists, mostly Caucasians, all around, and the crowded restaurants and sidewalks. I remember visiting Kuta Square one evening, and I have a vivid memory of the young man who tried to sell me souvenir lighters. He was vocally impaired, yet he was the first local whom I spent some time "talking" to.

I was young, innocent, and I fell in love. Not with the young man, but with Bali. Apart from the island's God-given beauty, I was in love with the Balinese. They are the warmest, most down to earth and hospitable people I have ever met.

Imagine my shock when I first heard the news of the October 12th bombings in 2002. I had returned from Bali barely four months earlier, and it was inconceivable to imagine that paradise was now in a state of destruction. I knew about the September terrorist attacks in America, but Bali under attack was so much closer to home, and to my heart. The attack was the deadliest act of terrorism in the history of Indonesia, killing 202 people, and injuring a further 209.

All I could think of was why. Why Bali, of all the places in the world? What were the terrorists hoping to bring to the world's attention, when they decided to bomb the home of these harmless Balinese? Fear? Indomitability? Powerlessness? Or was it something else? Were they laughing in glee when the bombs went off? Do they feel for the people who were injured, or for the families and friends of the victims? When I found out that one of the bomb blasts happened in Kuta Square, I couldn't help wondering if the young man I met escaped alive.

Before Bali's economy had a chance to recover, the island was bombed again on 1 October 2005. This time around, 23 were killed and 129 were injured. Coincidentally, I was actually scheduled to visit Bali for a school trip in November that year.

If I were paranoid, I would say I escaped death twice.

I finally made a second trip to Bali in December last year, during our recent school break. I would be lying if were to say that I didn't worry about terrorist attacks, but the need to see for myself what my paradise has become overrode that silly fear.

I stepped out of the airport and breathed in the same Balinese air. Yet, it seems like the air was the only thing that didn't change.

The crowded streets of Kuta in my memories were now almost empty. Restaurants that were once packed only had the few odd tables filled up, and the buzz of tourist activity was absent. Clothes and bags for sale in the markets were thick with dust due to lack of buyers. There were still tourists milling about, but there were way too many locals this time. Touters lined the streets, asking and even begging for you to buy a souvenir or to buy a sightseeing tour. The essence of hospitality was still evident in the Balinese, but a desperation to survive is now apparent on their faces.

I am angry. I am upset. But I do not hate the terrorists who destroyed my paradise. I don't understand them, and I don't think they understand us. I don't know how a terrorist would feel if he were to walk along the streets of Bali today, and see the results of what his fellow believers have done. Will he be happy? Proud? Guilty? Will he, like me, see the fight for survival harden the faces of the once innocent Balinese? And he will he, like me, mourn the loss of paradise?

Thank you."