I was startled by a loud knock on the door.
Being that I was the only one in the flat, it was up to me to answer. My heart pounded as I slowly crept to the door. This was only my second night in the urban industrial metropolis of Glasgow. I was temporarily staying with some friends in a ground floor flat that faced a busy street. I had no familiarity with the neighborhood or the culture and I was thousands of miles away from my comfy home in Boise, Idaho. To add even more emotional upheaval for me, this was only one week after all Americans were forced to face the fear of immanent danger due to the devastating terrorist attacks of 9-11.
On my way to the door, I could see through a window in the front room, that it was quite dark outside for being only around 6pm. I was waiting for my friends who leased the flat to come home from work. Rain crashed loudly against the pavement outside and I could hear the sound of cars sloshing through it as they drove by on the street in front of the building. The door to the flat was actually located in a hallway (called a close) that led to several other flats. Whoever was knocking was not visible to me from the front room window. I craned my neck to look through the peep hole in the door.
My heart jumped a second time and I gasped for air as the little bit of glass warped an image of a bearded man in a black suit staring back at me. He was dark skinned and wore a turban on his head. I could only guess he was from a Middle Eastern country. I had heard that there were large populations of Muslims living in the UK, and here I was staring at the distorted image of one on my 2nd night in this unfamiliar country. Fear rose up in me like a wall as my thoughts conjured up all sorts of horrific terrorist images I had seen on American television, supposedly done by those who claimed to be Muslim.
I carefully unlatched the deadbolt, slowly opened the door, and meekly said Hello. To my relief the man standing there introduced himself as a member of the British Muslim Police. “At least he was a good guy, right?” I thought to myself. He explained to me that he was looking for a man who had been a former tenant of the flat and wanted to know if I knew where he was. Showing my ignorance right away, I explained to him that I was an American and had only just arrived from the States and was staying with friends who were leasing the flat. He wrote some things down on a clipboard he was carrying and asked me if I knew how long my friends had been leasing the flat. I answered as best I could and he wrote something else down on his clip board.
After meticulously putting his pen away, he looked up at me and with the sincerest of smiles he said, “I am truly sorry for what has happened in your country with the bombings. It is a terrible thing. Please accept my apology on behalf of my people, and I hope your stay here in Scotland is a positive one.”
I thanked him. And with that he turned and walked out of the building and back into the wet night. I was left standing for a moment in shock as I pondered what had just taken place at this foreign doorway. In that moment, I had no concept that I would come to learn how prophetic that distorted image through the peep hole really was. For over the next 9 months, I would face my own fears and prejudice while living in Scotland.
On my way to the door, I could see through a window in the front room, that it was quite dark outside for being only around 6pm. I was waiting for my friends who leased the flat to come home from work. Rain crashed loudly against the pavement outside and I could hear the sound of cars sloshing through it as they drove by on the street in front of the building. The door to the flat was actually located in a hallway (called a close) that led to several other flats. Whoever was knocking was not visible to me from the front room window. I craned my neck to look through the peep hole in the door.
My heart jumped a second time and I gasped for air as the little bit of glass warped an image of a bearded man in a black suit staring back at me. He was dark skinned and wore a turban on his head. I could only guess he was from a Middle Eastern country. I had heard that there were large populations of Muslims living in the UK, and here I was staring at the distorted image of one on my 2nd night in this unfamiliar country. Fear rose up in me like a wall as my thoughts conjured up all sorts of horrific terrorist images I had seen on American television, supposedly done by those who claimed to be Muslim.
I carefully unlatched the deadbolt, slowly opened the door, and meekly said Hello. To my relief the man standing there introduced himself as a member of the British Muslim Police. “At least he was a good guy, right?” I thought to myself. He explained to me that he was looking for a man who had been a former tenant of the flat and wanted to know if I knew where he was. Showing my ignorance right away, I explained to him that I was an American and had only just arrived from the States and was staying with friends who were leasing the flat. He wrote some things down on a clipboard he was carrying and asked me if I knew how long my friends had been leasing the flat. I answered as best I could and he wrote something else down on his clip board.
After meticulously putting his pen away, he looked up at me and with the sincerest of smiles he said, “I am truly sorry for what has happened in your country with the bombings. It is a terrible thing. Please accept my apology on behalf of my people, and I hope your stay here in Scotland is a positive one.”
I thanked him. And with that he turned and walked out of the building and back into the wet night. I was left standing for a moment in shock as I pondered what had just taken place at this foreign doorway. In that moment, I had no concept that I would come to learn how prophetic that distorted image through the peep hole really was. For over the next 9 months, I would face my own fears and prejudice while living in Scotland.
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