The Superhero Complex

I went to Bible study tonight, which is a normal Monday night activity for me. The other women there chatted a bit, and we talked about how hot it was today (over 100°, according to the internet, which can always be trusted). We settled in, and had a time of worship together. And then my phone rang.

My roommate, Kerstin, was calling, which was rather odd, since she knew I was at Bible study and had an idea of when I'd be home (and we don't have roommate separation anxiety issues, so that wasn't it either). Of course, I answered, and she informed me that there was a giant fire on the next block, and could she come over to where our Bible study was, in case it spread to our street.

Thus launched a great deal of speculation. We headed up to the rooftop to look for the fire, and found a blazing red sky and a giant plume of smoke. This, of course, meant we had to try to figure out where the fire was actually burning—and there are a lot of houses in this part of town, built right next to each other. It's a scary, scary thing to watch your city go up in flames, especially when you know that the response of the fire department is contingent upon things like corruption, pay, and their ability to navigate crowds of spectators.

We watched, and we waited, and slowly information came in. The fire was not on the next block, but was very near to a temple which is only a few blocks away from my apartment. There are a large number of small wooden houses behind the temple, and many of them have now burned. We smelled smoke and listened to sirens in the distance. And we prayed.

By the end of the evening, the fire had been contained, if not extinguished. We heard that several of World Relief's cell church members had lost homes to the fire. We found out that one of our staff members had lost everything (and was searching for his family). We discovered that others were safe. We learned that it was an electrical spark that started the fire. We wondered how people would find somewhere to sleep tonight. Still, we prayed.

It's a strange thing, to have your neighborhood go up in smoke. I've gotten used to living near poverty, to living near oppression. I hope I've not grown passive, but I'm sure my reaction has been blunted, the more I've seen, the more I've become accustomed to the wrongs that are perpetrated only a few meters away from my front gate. It's a consequence of doing something like this, of living in hard places. We end up seeing things that we might miss otherwise, having stayed in comfortable locales, surrounded by things we've long known.

But I'm not used to fires, and I'm not used to feeling so unsafe, so unsure. I'm not used to being grateful that my passport is in the hands of the government for processing, and that it can't be lost to a fire. I'm not used to wondering if my apartment will be there when I get home. I'm not used to a bright red sky and a plume of smoke.

I think part of it is that I have something of a superhero complex. So often, I hear that it's so great that I'm living here, working here. Even my colleagues think I'm different; sometimes they tell me I'm special. It's a real ego boost. And it has weird consequences. Like making me feel that I'm invincible. Or positioning me on a slippery slope where I think that bad things are what happen to other people, and what I'm here to prevent, or to fix.

The reality is that I'm no superhero. I'm as human and as vulnerable as the 350 families who have lost their homes tonight. It could have been me, sleeping outside, picking through wreckage, treading on ashes. It almost was, if the winds had blown differently, or a different transformer had sparked the flames. And while it's good that I'm here, good that I'm working, good that we're making a difference, bad things are not only what happen to other people. And even if I'm here to help fix bad things, and right wrongs, well, it doesn't mean that I'm indestructible (or that my house is).

So tonight, I'm praying, still, for families who have lost everything, the neighbors I don't know and haven't met. This time, it's not just another problem to be fixed, or wrong to be righted. It's not something with a cause that can be analyzed or complex cultural issue. It's a tragedy, and it happened just a few blocks away.