Some weeks ago, in my hometown Medan, North Sumatra, Indonesia, a would-be suicide bomber charged into a church while it was holding a Sunday service and tried to detonate his vest. By God’s grace, the bomb failed to detonate, and the congregation was able to restrain him and subsequently hand him over to the police.
Eighteen years ago, my carefree life turned into a living hell overnight. It was May 1998, and riots broke out in my city, Jakarta in Indonesia. They were triggered by economic problems including food shortages and mass unemployment.
25 April 2015. It was the day my friend came to Nepal to visit me (I was mid-way through my one-year missions stint in Nepal). It was also the day the world witnessed the most horrific earthquake to strike Nepal since 1934.
“Politicians – they’re all the same, aren’t they? All of them are lying to us, so we just vote for the lies we like the sound of and hope that maybe a few of them will actually come true, even though we know deep down that they probably won’t.”
A few scantily-dressed women flirt with passers-by in a dimly lit alley. Some of them strike up conversations and bargain with potential customers, while others wait around for customers to offer them a price.
I remember a chat I had with a friend back in high school about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I don’t recall what I had said at the time, but it was probably a human rights lawyer or missionary.
If you haven’t heard by now, Pokemon Go is the latest craze in town—it’s all over the Internet and media, and is dominating many of our conversations. Basically, this mobile game involves the trainer (that’s what the player is called) going around his neighborhood or city to hunt for Pokemon (short for pocket monster) using his mobile device.