A Quiet Night in Vennabari
This blog has been submitted by ICC representative Sylvia Thompson.
It was a quiet night in Vennabari, Bangladesh. Reverend Shankar Hazra and his wife did not hear a sound as they stumbled through the darkness–trekking slowly along the dirt path that led to the church toilet.
“You may go first,” whispered Reverend Hazra’s wife, nudging him forward.
Reverend Hazra slowly reached for the outhouse handle, but his hand never made contact with the wooden shaft.
“Oh, no!” he cried as the barrel of a gun pressed against his chest.
The enraged man behind the trigger snarled at Reverend Hazra and said, “Keep quiet or we will kill both you and your wife.”
Reverend Hazra nodded in compliance as cords of rope were wrapped around his hands and feet–assuring the attackers that their prisoner would not escape.
Reverend Hazra’s wife cried softly as they staggered through the darkness–trekking slowly along the dirt path that led back to the church. Her cries morphed into sobs as they thrust her into the church–leaving her husband tied to a pillar on the porch. The Reverend wailed with horror as they gang-raped his wife repeatedly through the night–her screams reverberating into the Bangladeshi sky.
Hours later the attackers left–their arms filled with Reverend Hazra’s money, clothes, and valuables. When he thought it was safe, the reverend freed himself from the tight cords and ran into the church. He bumbled over looted trunks and ransacked chests until he found his wife–unconscious, beaten, and bleeding. With tears running down his cheeks, Reverend Hazra gently lifted his wife off the floor and cradled her in his arms. “I am so sorry,” he sobbed, nuzzling his face into her neck.
It was a quiet night in Vennabari, Bangladesh. The only sound Reverend Hazra could hear was that of his wife’s breathing–her quiet respiration proclaiming the fact that she was alive.
Humans don’t deserve this planet.