A Reply to Hate: Forgiving My Attacker. David Tucker
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innocuous, and probably the only reason I noticed him was because he was the only person around on that quiet road. Perhaps if there had been more people then I might have been distracted by them, but I clearly recall he was the only person I saw. I do not remember if he looked back at me, but everything seemed entirely normal. From that glance I recall noticing that he was tall enough to have his head above the car he was next to. As I turned away from him, I remember sensing that he was about to cross the road. It seemed that as soon as he saw me walking towards the centre, he crossed the road and walked towards me. I do not remember at what stage he passed me, and I only vaguely sensed that someone was there. It was just something normal that you do every day walking down the road. You sense people walking towards you and past you but there is no eye contact, and you don’t stare. In any case, I was focused on rushing to the mosque, knowing I was already late.
But then I recall a silly thing that I did as I passed the last house before the Centre’s gates. Because of my newly acquired interest in gardening, I had started looking at other people’s gardens to get some ideas; I would look to see what they had planted and how the garden is landscaped. As I passed the front garden of this house, for whatever reason I remember being critical of some brickwork that had been done. Basically, it was just a very ordinary Sunday. Eventually, I entered the front gate which is invariably kept open during prayer times, and I started walking up the path, a clear path with little of note. But then out of the blue, and this is one thing I have never really been able to articulate, it still seems somewhat indescribable, but I felt a sudden, massive pain. I described it once as seeming like somebody had put a hammer drill into the back of my neck. I do not know why, but it was as if the pain had a sound and that is perhaps the best way I can describe it. At the time, in that instant, and I do not really know why, I imagined I was hit by a baseball bat. It seems to have been an instantaneous rationalisation, probably a reflection of watching too many films and crime series. Whatever it was, there was no doubt that it felt extremely painful. I also recall that as the pain struck, I was thrust forwards, but still with no clue what the hell just happened to me. It was not so much frightening at that point; it was simply extremely painful and nothing else. I did not even notice the presence of someone who had snuck up behind me, and I think on reflection I was somewhat fortunate. Fortunate because if you experience a horrendous event, some of the lasting emotional and psychological trauma can come from events leading up to the physical pain, from the anticipation of harm, from seeing the weapon and from the experience of helplessness and fear, for example. Perhaps if I had experienced such emotions leading up to the stabbing, they may have had a lasting impact on me. In that sense, I was lucky, it was sudden, but nevertheless I was thrust quickly into a different world.
With nobody immediately in view, in all my naivety my next thought was that a tree branch had fallen on me. I looked around to see where the tree was, where the branch was, because this surely was the only thing that could have hit me, but there was nothing there. Then as I turned, there was this man, and I saw his face. It had been a couple of seconds, but I still could not figure out what had happened; even when I saw him, I still had no idea. Despite the horrendous pain in my neck and this man appearing just behind me, it did not occur to me that he had struck me. It took me probably another couple of seconds, the two of us just standing there, me still looking for a tree branch, but, of course, there was nothing, just him. I wasn’t yet sure, but I was starting to realise it must have been him just because there was nothing else around. All I was looking at was his face, and I remember from the corner of my eye I glimpsed something metallic under his right arm. I later realised that this was just the frame of the iron gate and not what I instinctively thought, which was that he might have hit me with an iron bar. Throughout these few seconds, I never noticed his hand and never saw the knife held there. Again, perhaps that was a blessing because if I had seen a knife my reaction might well have been different.
We stood there with no more than a couple of yards between us and I remember his face, at least I remember what I started to see in his face. He was angry. There was no doubt about that, he was very angry, almost animal-like as if he was baring his teeth. He shouted at me, he used the f-word I remember, but then he said something else. I wasn’t fully registering what he was saying, I was looking at his body language rather than listening to him, instinctively asking myself what he might want to do. But then I believe he said, “This is for what you’ve done!” I have tried to make sense of that statement since, but I cannot even be sure if that was exactly what he shouted at me, never mind why. Perhaps I will know one day. Nonetheless, it is this phrase that has stuck with me, though in all honesty I could not put my hand on the Bible and swear by Almighty God that this was exactly what was said.
I still wasn’t aware that he had just stabbed me though, only that I had pain in my neck, but then his anger gripped me, and it seemed that he was poised to do something else again. He moved towards me and at that moment it became clear to me that he meant further harm. That said, the phrase “became clear” does not really tell the whole story. It was an instinctive inner sense rather than a logical thought process. In such a situation there is no time for thinking. My instinct told me that something is not right, that this person did something bad, and even though I still did not realise there was a knife, instinctively I turned around and ran away as fast as I could. I think the speed I ran at is something I only realised subsequently because my legs were still hurting three days later from that sprint. I think I must have run at what was for me some exceptional speed, and I just ran in a straight line, directly away from him.
The people who were in the Centre praying, who could have helped me, were on my left-hand side, but I didn’t even think of turning to the left because that would have taken time. My instinct was to run in a straight line, so I ran the 20 yards or so to the back main hall. Not that I was expecting anybody to be there, I was not so much running for help, I just ran. There were a few steps to climb and I think I cleared them with a single jump, whereupon I reached the entrance. The time between me turning from the attack and arriving at that door was probably no more than three to four seconds. The back hall has a large pair of solid wooden doors that are normally kept shut. On that afternoon, fortunately, these doors were open, but then immediately on entering you face another entrance door, a glass door with an upper frosted panel and a self-closing hinge. There is no lock on this door, but it only opens outwards! As I reached this door, I had to stop. I vividly remember that moment of realising that I would have to stop running. I had to pause and take a step back to be able to open the door. The moment that I had to stop running away was the most distinctive for me in the whole scenario. It was probably no more than a split second, but as I realised that I would have to open the door outwards, that was the moment where I actually felt the fear. As I stopped to open the door, even without knowing whether he was following behind me or not, I feared for my life; I was petrified. I still recall the thoughts that raced through my mind: I needed to hide, where could I hide? I don’t remember ever feeling so petrified in my life. I pulled the door back and as I entered I immediately saw two women in the hall.
That was when something amazing happened to me. As suddenly as it had gripped me, in that split second, the fear suddenly disappeared. I have no idea how my instincts took over, but on reflection it is most likely that my instincts dictated that I had to protect these two women. It was not that I felt safe or reassured by their presence, but I believe that I went from being afraid to being protective. To me, the presence of these two women in the hall when I entered was a life-changing moment. It may seem strange to claim that, but I truly believe that I may have ended up as a totally different person if they had not been there. I knew what being petrified felt like and I think it would have taken me a long time to be able to confront and to overcome such fear, if I could have done so at all. I still cannot explain it, but as soon as I saw these two women, the fear simply vanished. All this took place within the space of a few seconds and as far as my experience with running away and with fear went, it was done.
As soon as I saw them, I think I shouted, “Call the police!” and I grabbed a chair and ran back towards the door. I was determined that he was not going to come in. That was the overwhelming issue with the presence of these two women. Perhaps the fact that I felt this way, with that determination, is what completely changed my attitude and took away the fear. I ran out and I saw that he was no longer there. He was gone; a few seconds of my life and that was it, he was not there anymore. I looked around a bit more to make sure he was not hiding, but there