The Teardrop Island


Ten years ago

We passed the church in Negombo.

It was a sleepy little place,

Where the pace of life was slow

On an island that had just found peace

After years of horror.


And now this.

I feel I am enshrouded in cotton wool,

But there is no comfort in that.

There is only numbness and sorrow.


But how can I speak of unspeakable things?

And what gives me the right to try?

Beautiful island, the shape of a teardrop.

Weep for Her.

They Want us to Hate

They want us to hate.

They want there to be a backlash.

They want shops and mosques to be firebombed.

They want innocent Moslems to suffer.

Every single retaliatory incident plays into their hands. They want us to relinquish the moral high ground.

They hate the moderate Muslims as much as they hate the West.

Their tactics are hardly new. Throughout history, invading armies have used fear and brutality to terrorise and demoralise civilians and defending armies, to destroy their resolve, so that they crumble in the face of their onslaughts; so that they give up the fight even though they realise that it means their own destruction.


We declare that we are fighting for Western values of decency, fairness and democracy, so it is vitally important that we do not undermine our own arguments by indulging in blind hatred and resorting to knee-jerk terror tactics in return.

The last thing that they wish to see is our multiracial society living in harmony.

They can only win if we fall into their trap.