I could never have imagined that a 19-year-old suicide bomber would actually teach me a valuable lesson. But he did. He taught me to never presume anything about anyone you don't know.
Nikoli si nisem predstavljala, da me bo 19-letni samomorilski napadalec naučil življenjske lekcije. Pa me je. Naučil me je, da nikoli ne smeš domnevati česarkoli, o komerkoli, ki ga ne poznaš.
On a Thursday morning in July 2005, the bomber and I, unknowingly, boarded the same train carriage at the same time, standing, apparently, just feet apart. I didn't see him. Actually, I didn't see anyone. You know not to look at anyone on the Tube, but I guess he saw me. I guess he looked at all of us, as his hand hovered over the detonation switch. I've often wondered: What was he thinking? Especially in those final seconds.
Na četrtkovo jutro, julija 2005, sva se z napadalcem, nevede, istočasno vkrcala na isti vagon, stala pa sva, očitno, samo nekaj korakov narazen. Nisem ga videla. V bistvu nisem videla nikogar. Vsi vedo, da na podzemni nikogar ne gledaš, a izgleda, da je on videl mene. Zgleda, da je gledal nas vse, ko je njegova roka lebdela nad bombnim sprožilcem. Pogosto sem se spraševala: "O čem je razmišljal?" Posebno v tistih zadnjih sekundah.
I know it wasn't personal. He didn't set out to kill or maim me, Gill Hicks. I mean -- he didn't know me. No. Instead, he gave me an unwarranted and an unwanted label. I had become the enemy. To him, I was the "other," the "them," as opposed to "us." The label "enemy" allowed him to dehumanize us. It allowed him to push that button. And he wasn't selective. Twenty-six precious lives were taken in my carriage alone, and I was almost one of them.
Vem,da ni bilo osebno. Ni imel namena ubiti ali pohabiti mene, Gill Hicks. Mislim - sploh me ni poznal. Ne. Namesto tega, me je nepričakovano in nezaželeno označil. Postala sem sovražnik. Zanj sem bila "nekdo drug", "oni", namesto "mi". Oznaka "sovražnik" mu je dovolila, da nas je razčlovečil. Omogočilo mu je, da je pritisnil na tisti gumb. In ni izbiral. 26 dragocenih življenj je bilo vzetih, samo v mojem vagonu in jaz sem skoraj bila ena izmed njih.
In the time it takes to draw a breath, we were plunged into a darkness so immense that it was almost tangible; what I imagine wading through tar might be like. We didn't know we were the enemy. We were just a bunch of commuters who, minutes earlier, had followed the Tube etiquette: no direct eye contact, no talking and absolutely no conversation.
V času, ko narediš en vdih, smo bili pahnjeni v tako močno temačnost, da smo jo skoraj lahko oprijeli; tako kot si predstavljam, da bi bilo polzenje skozi katran. Nismo vedeli, da smo sovražniki. Bili smo le skupina potnikov, ki se je, minute pred tem, obnašala po pravilih na podzemni: nič očesnega stika, nič govorjenja in absolutno nič pogovarjanja.
But in the lifting of the darkness, we were reaching out. We were helping each other. We were calling out our names, a little bit like a roll call, waiting for responses.
Med dviganjem iz teme pa smo poskušali vzpostaviti stik. Drug drugemu smo pomagali. Klicali smo svoja imena, približno kot pri preverjanju prisotnosti, čakajoč na odzive.
"I'm Gill. I'm here. I'm alive. OK."
"Sem Gill. Tukaj sem. Živa sem. OK."
"I'm Gill. Here. Alive. OK."
"Sem Gill. Tukaj. Živa. OK."
I didn't know Alison. But I listened for her check-ins every few minutes. I didn't know Richard. But it mattered to me that he survived.
Alison nisem poznala. A sem njeno oglašanje poslušala vsakih nekaj minut. Nisem poznala Richarda. A mi je bilo pomembno, da je preživel.
All I shared with them was my first name. They didn't know that I was a head of a department at the Design Council. And here is my beloved briefcase, also rescued from that morning. They didn't know that I published architecture and design journals, that I was a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, that I wore black -- still do -- that I smoked cigarillos. I don't smoke cigarillos anymore. I drank gin and I watched TED Talks, of course, never dreaming that one day I would be standing, balancing on prosthetic legs, giving a talk.
Vse, kar sem delila z njimi, je bilo moje ime. Niso vedeli, da sem bila vodja oddelka v Svetu za oblikovanje. In to je moja preljuba torba, prav tako rešena tistega jutra. Niso vedeli, da objavljam članke o arhitekturi in oblikovanju, da sem bila član v Kraljevem društvu za umetnost, da sem se oblačila v črno -. da se še vedno - da kadim cigarilose. Cigarilosov ne kadim več. Pila sem gin in gledala TED govore, seveda si nikoli nisem mislila, da bom nekega dne stala, iskala ravnotežje na protetičnih nogah, imela govor.
I was a young Australian woman doing extraordinary things in London. And I wasn't ready for that all to end. I was so determined to survive that I used my scarf to tie tourniquets around the tops of my legs, and I just shut everything and everyone out, to focus, to listen to myself, to be guided by instinct alone. I lowered my breathing rate. I elevated my thighs. I held myself upright and I fought the urge to close my eyes.
Bila sem mlado, avstralsko dekle, ki je počela neverjetne stvari v Londonu. In nisem bila pripravljena, da bi se vse to končalo. Bila sem tako odločena, da preživim, da sem uporabila svoj šal kot kompresijsko obvezo okrog zgornjih delov svojih nog in odmislila sem vse in vsakogar, da sem se osredotočila, poslušala sebe, da me je vodil samo moj občutek. Upočasnila sem svoje dihanje. Vzdignila sem si stegna. Postavila sem se pokončno in se borila z željo, da zaprem oči.
I held on for almost an hour, an hour to contemplate the whole of my life up until this point. Perhaps I should have done more. Perhaps I could have lived more, seen more. Maybe I should have gone running, dancing, taken up yoga. But my priority and my focus was always my work. I lived to work. Who I was on my business card mattered to me. But it didn't matter down in that tunnel.
Zdržala sem skoraj eno uro, eno uro, da sem razmislila o svojem življenju vse do te točke. Morda bi morala storiti več. Morda bi morala živeti več, videti več. Mogoče bi morala pričeti s tekom, plesom, jogo. A moja prioriteta in fokus je bila vedno služba. Živela sem za službo. Kdo sem bila na svoji poslovni vizitki, mi je bilo pomembno. A v tistem tunelu to ni bilo pomembno.
By the time I felt that first touch from one of my rescuers, I was unable to speak, unable to say even a small word, like "Gill." I surrendered my body to them. I had done all I possibly could, and now I was in their hands.
Do trenutka, ko sem začutila prvi dotik enega od mojih rešiteljev, nisem bila sposobna govoriti, nisem bila zmožna izgovoriti niti kratke besede, kot je "Gill". Svoje telo sem predala njim. Naredila sem popolnoma vse, kar sem lahko, sedaj pa sem bila v njihovih rokah.
I understood just who and what humanity really is, when I first saw the ID tag that was given to me when I was admitted to hospital. And it read: "One unknown estimated female." One unknown estimated female. Those four words were my gift. What they told me very clearly was that my life was saved, purely because I was a human being. Difference of any kind made no difference to the extraordinary lengths that the rescuers were prepared to go to save my life, to save as many unknowns as they could, and putting their own lives at risk. To them, it didn't matter if I was rich or poor, the color of my skin, whether I was male or female, my sexual orientation, who I voted for, whether I was educated, if I had a faith or no faith at all. Nothing mattered other than I was a precious human life.
Razumela sem, kdo in kaj človečnost dejansko je, ko sem prvič zagledala izkaznico, ki mi je bila dana, ko sem bila sprejeta v bolnišnico. Na njej je pisalo: "Ena neznana ocenjena ženska." Ena neznana ocenjena ženska. Te štiri besede so bile moje darilo. Jasno so mi povedali, da je bilo moje življenje rešeno preprosto zato, ker sem človeško bitje. Kakršnakoli razlika ni bila pomembna mojim rešiteljem, ki so bili pripravljeni storiti marsikaj, da bi rešili moje življenje, da bi rešili čimveč neznanih, kot jih lahko, medtem ko so na nitko postavljali svoja življenja. Njim ni bilo pomembno, če sem bogata ali revna, barva moje kože, ali sem moški ali ženska, moja spolna usmerjenost, za koga glasujem, če sem izobražena, ali sem verna ali ne. Nič ni bilo pomembno, razen to, da sem dragoceno človeško življenje.
I see myself as a living fact. I am proof that unconditional love and respect can not only save, but it can transform lives. Here is a wonderful image of one of my rescuers, Andy, and I taken just last year. Ten years after the event, and here we are, arm in arm.
Sebe vidim kot živeče dejstvo. Sem dokaz, da brezpogojna ljubezen in spoštovanje lahko ne samo rešita, ampak transformirata življenja. Tu je čudovita slika enega mojih rešiteljev, Andyja, in mene, posneta lansko leto. Deset let po dogodku in tukaj sva bila, z roko v roki.
Throughout all the chaos, my hand was held tightly. My face was stroked gently. What did I feel? I felt loved. What's shielded me from hatred and wanting retribution, what's given me the courage to say: this ends with me is love. I was loved.
Skozi celoten kaos je bila moja roka močno držana. Moj obraz je bil nežno božan. Kaj sem čutila? Čutila sem se ljubljeno. Tisto, kar me je ščitilo pred sovraštvom in željo po povračilu, tisto, kar mi je dalo pogum, da rečem: pri meni se to konča, je ljubezen. Bila sem ljubljena.
I believe the potential for widespread positive change is absolutely enormous because I know what we're capable of. I know the brilliance of humanity. So this leaves me with some pretty big things to ponder and some questions for us all to consider: Is what unites us not far greater than what can ever divide? Does it have to take a tragedy or a disaster for us to feel deeply connected as one species, as human beings? And when will we embrace the wisdom of our era to rise above mere tolerance and move to an acceptance for all who are only a label until we know them?
Verjamem, da je potencial za razširjene pozitivne spremembe, neverjetno ogromen, ker vem, česa smo sposobni. Poznam briljantnost človeštva. Vse to pa me pusti z ogromnimi stvari za premlevanje in določenimi vprašanji, ki bi jih morali premisliti mi vsi: ali ni tisto, kar nas združuje, precej večje kot tisto, kar nas ločuje? Se mora resnično zgoditi tragedija ali katastrofa, da se bomo počutili globoko povezani kot ena vrsta, kot človeška bitja? In kdaj bomo sprejeli modrost naše dobe, da se dvignemo nad zgolj toleranco in začnemo sprejemati vse, ki so samo oznaka, dokler jih ne spoznamo?
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(aplavz)