‘All I remember is fire everywhere’
When 24-year-old Rebekah walked into her family’s living room, I almost stopped breathing. The complete left side of her body and parts of her right side are covered with third-degree burn wounds. The top of her head is missing a large chunk of hair, revealing her bald scalp.
At first, she seemed shy, unwilling to share. But when her brother talks about her sister, Verlini, waking up on Easter morning at 3 am to pray with Rebekah, she suddenly engages in the conversation.
“Why did your sister wake up to pray?” I asked.
“We were supposed to sing a song together, just like the Sunday before,” Rebekah answers quietly.
“Do you remember which song?”
She nods and she and her older sister, who was unhurt in the attack, begin to sing. We don’t understand the words, but it’s a song about Jesus, a song about the hope we have in Him.
Listen to these sisters’ worship together.
“What do you remember of that day?” I ask Rebekah.
“Not much,” she says. “I was in the bookshop, and the suicide bomber stood right outside when he detonated the bomb in his backpack. All I remember is fire. Fire everywhere.”