I trembled with determination as we visited the village. Desolate grey, brown, wintry struggles had made themselves comfortable in their land, uninvited. Just like the violence in their war-torn land. They had just had a bomb blast yesterday. “It is not safe to visit,” I’d been told.
But as a researcher, I was of the view that it was best to do so in the heat of the moment. Think of the poor villagers who understand nothing of all this. How dangerous can it be after the fact for us, visitors? So what if it is.
I was convinced. I had always believed that village people are simple and if they dealt with something so disturbing long-term, then the least I could do was listen to their suffering and empathize.
I must go.
And I did.
The people just surrounded me and talked. They had so much to say. They needed to.