... I don't live in a conflict zone .... do I?

There are few things in life that make me stop what I’m doing and write down just what happened and how I feel.  A hail of bullets  near my workplace  qualifies as one of those things.  So that I don’t freak everyone out I should first say that I’m safe, and never was really in any actual danger.  However, near enough that it scared the crap out of me.  It’s been minutes since the firing stopped, but  my hands are still shaking, and I catch myself looking around nervously and reminding myself to breathe. 

The hospital where I work is just meters down the street from a local prison.  A local low security community service sort of prison.  So while there are guards and they do carry guys, the prisoners in their white and black striped uniforms to my experience have always been quite docile and polite.  They bring the hospital staff oranges from the orchard, and keep the landscaping around the hospital in order.  While there are some lifers, most are only in for a month or more, and are just passing the time until they are out again.  Apparently someone was unhappy with the current situation though and just tried to escape. 

The first sign that something was wrong wasn’t actually the pop of the gun.  I heard that … but with all the tuk tuks running on lawn mower-type engines my brain registered it as traffic.  The actual sign was the movement in the line outside my office after the second series of pops.  Each blast coming in pairs as though it were an automatic weapon that someone couldn’t quite manage to only get one shot off.  Pop pop, pause, pop pop, pause, pop pop pop.  I’m not sure if they caught the person or not at this point.  The shots became less frequent, and moved away toward the direction of town.  I suppose I am at the hospital, so if someone was shot you’d think I’d hear about it – but then all gun shot wounds are taken to the military hospital, so who knows.

It’s strange now that as my hands are beginning to stop shaking people are casually lining back up to have their prescriptions stamped and go about their day.  Word is that the prisoners were unsuccessful, so all adrenaline aside, life goes on unaffected.