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Page 2A � Sunday, July 12, 2015 Bismarck Tribune � Bismarcktribune.comSUNDAY, JULY 12, 2015
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Local drug crimestatisticstroubling
OPINION
VOLUME 141, NUMBER 193ISSN 0745-1091. Published daily.
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DANICA KIRKAAssociated Press
LONDON — To lose your sister. Your son. Your legs.
Ten years after the sui-cide bombings that killed 52 people on the London trans-port network, survivors and the loved ones of those who died are still angry, grief stricken and scarred.
But they share a resolve to move forward, to deny the extremists victory by get-ting on with their lives.
Here are a few of their recollections about the day the capital’s morning com-mute was rocked by bomb-ings that crippled three Underground trains and ripped the top off a double-decker bus.
My second life On July 7, 2005, Gill Hicks
boarded the Underground at King’s Cross and observed etiquette unique to the Tube. Commuters stand millimeters from other passengers without really looking at them. She didn’t notice the bomber. But she knows now she was stand-ing inches from him when he detonated his backpack on the Piccadilly Line.
“I think there’s a very clear demarcation line,” said Hicks, who lost both legs below the knee. “So for me July 7, 2005, was the end of life number one, and every-thing I knew in life number one, and the beginning of a very fortunate position to have the gift of a sec-ond life.”
Life number two began when Hicks awoke in the hospital. Chillingly, her arm bracelet labeled her “One Unknown.” She said it made her see the brilliance of humanity, as she had been rescued in dangerous conditions from wreckage miles underground.
“What those words said to me on my arm bracelet was that people risked their lives to come and save one unknown — to come and save as many one unknowns as they could.” she said. “And to me that is human-ity, because they weren’t selective. It didn’t matter whether I had wealth or no wealth. Whether I had a faith or no faith. What the color of my skin was. Indeed what my gender was. Noth-ing mattered other than I was a precious human life.”
H icks, 47, went from b e i n g a w o r k a h o l i c d e s i g n e r to a m o t iva -tional speaker who also runs the charity M.A.D. (Making a Difference) for Peace. The organization tries to connect people globally and encourage them to think of peace a s a ve r b — a n a c t o f individual responsibility accomplished daily.
Hicks said people have a responsibility to unite against global extremism and destructive ideologies. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t angry. She’s furious in fact.
She tries to use the anger as fuel for her projects — jet propellant to keep her motivated and moving for-ward. She believes she has no choice but to celebrate the fact that she is here — every day.
“As I stand here before you now, I can’t feel the ground,” she said of the sensation of hovering on artificial limbs. “I’ve had to learn how to accept that I can’t feel the ground, but I am still upright. ”
I will not allow them to defeat me
Esther Hyman was at work as a medical secretary in Oxford when she heard “something was going on” in London.
Her sister Miriam, 32, who had worked as a pic-ture researcher in pub-lishing, was on her way to a meeting in the capital. She had been evacuated f ro m t h e u n d e rg ro u n d after one of the explosions. Her father managed to speak with her briefly. She told him she would stop and take breather before deciding whether to go to the meeting.
When they hadn’t heard from her by that evening, the family became agitated. Soon they were putting up missing posters and visit-ing hospitals. Four days elapsed before they learned the truth — that she had jumped on a bus targeted in the attacks.
In the years that followed, Esther, now 46, considered her options. She had to make a decision.
“Am I going to allow this to beat me? Am I going to lose my life as well? Am I going to allow them to
terrorize me, as they wish to do, into submission?” Esther said. “Or am I going to survive, with my sanity intact and do everything within my arms reach to address what happened?”
Caving in wasn’t really an option.
“ M i m w o u l d n o t approve,” she said.
The family established a trust and equipped the Miriam Hyman Children’s Eye Care Center in Odisha, India. It seemed fitting to the family, because Miriam got glasses as a teenager and was shocked at what she had been missing. She was very visual, and was fasci-nated to better see things in nature, such as the intricacy of leaves.
Together with the Uni-versity College London Institute of Education, the trust has also developed an educational program that uses Miriam’s story and her family’s reaction to her death to prevent young people from being drawn
into extremism of any kind.Launched this week,
the trust hopes educators around the world will use the program, giving young people an alternative nar-rative to extremism.
It is never over S t a v r o s M a r a n g o s
remembers the silence. One of the first London Fire Bri-gade members to respond to the bus attack in Tavistock Square, he was struck by how the usual traffic, bustle and chatter had disappeared — replaced only by sirens wailing in the distance.
“There was just an eerie quiet,” he said.
His superiors warned that there might be sec-ondary explosive devices, and said that anyone who didn’t want to get off the fire engine was free to stay. No one did.
“It was l ike a scene from a war film,” he said. “There were unidentifiable body parts strewn all over the place.”
One person was still alive on the bus, but there were no more stretchers. Crews used the top of a desk to move the survivor into the courtyard of the nearby British Medical Association, where doctors had gathered to help the injured.
Ten years on, he can’t get it out of his head.
“Day to day, when you are busy, when you are engaged doing things, it’s way in the background. But every now and again, it just creeps up,” he said. “I’d like to give you a quotation I heard from a film about the Detroit Fire Depart-ment. There was a 32-year veteran who was retiring and he coined the phrase ‘I wish my head could forget what my eyes have seen.’”
A portion of your soul ripped out
Grahame Russell didn’t give much thought to the first news of trouble on the Underground because early reports suggested it was only a power out-age. Around lunchtime though, he got a call from his son Philip’s office. They had received a text message from Philip, who wo rke d i n f i n a n c e , a t about 9:30 a.m., saying he was going to get on a bus. They hadn’t heard from him since.
“We were just obviously worried sick.” he said.
A police family l iai-s o n o f f i c e r wa s s o o n on the doorstep. Philip was classified as “miss-ing ” for days. His fam-ily identified his body on what would have been his 29th birthday.
Ten years on, Grahame, now 72, says he has stopped trying to make sense of it.
“It’s very difficult,” he said. “When you have a portion of your soul ripped out from you, you find life very difficult. I find dif-ficulty in reflecting and thinking back. If I did that all the time, I would just collapse.”
Instead, Grahame has thrown himself into a proj-ect to create a more person-alized memorial in Tavis-tock Square, not just for the victims but also for the survivors and emergency services personnel, many of whom risked their lives in uncertain situations to reach the injured.
Touched by tragedySurvivors and family members recall the London bombings
British London Fire Brigade Watch Manager Stavros Marangos, who as a newly qualified firefighter was dis-patched to the scene of the bus explosion in the 2005 London bombings, stands beside a plaque in memory of those killed on Tavistock Square in London.
London bombings
survivor Gill Hicks, of Australia, who lost both her
legs, poses for a
portrait in a courtyard
at the British
Medical Association building in London on
June 29.(Associated
Press )
LEFT: Esther Hyman lost her sister Miriam to the explosion on a bus in the 2005 London bombings. RIGHT: Grahame Russell’s son Philip was also killed by the explosion on a bus in the 2005 London bombings.
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