It's Peru, Baby.

News has never had much effect on me before, but the 'culture shock' I've been expecting from living in London has definately hit now: the realisation that the news does directly affect me, and the city I have chosen to call home. No more feeling I am miles away from civilisation, and can somehow avoid reality. I'd just last week gotten over the weird, panicky feeling I'd been experiencing due to having to ride the deep tube lines whilst the Circle line is closed... every morning finding myself plunging down into the bowels of the earth to squash myself onto a hurtling metal carriage filled with sweaty commuters reading newspapers chock full of images of terror... Yikes. Anyways, I'd just gotten over that when there was news of a second bombing attempt, and then, over the weekend, the news that the police had shot an innocent Brazilian electrician. The speculation that the man could have run from the police as his visa may have expired made me weep. Now it's getting personal. After all, my beloved hubby is a South American immigrant, hoping to train as an electrician, a man who spent 11 years running from police in Japan because of his illegal status. He recognised that it was his choice to remain illegally in the country, and thus have to run from police (or sweet-talk them, but that was back in the day). Yet, as photos of Jean Charles de Menezes' 'aged and humble' family are shown in the newspapers I get a wash of nostalgia for my in-laws in Peru, and realise that for men and women supporting those back home there really isn't a choice. How the hell can we even begin to address the imbalances and injustice in the world that is the root of all of these problems we are now facing?