The second incident was, I suppose, partially my fault. I boarded a city bus with a large suitcase, which I put on the luggage rack. Since the rack was right next to the door, I moved a little away from it so I wouldn't be in the way.
For a couple of minutes I stood there, keeping an eye on my bag and not listening to the buzz of voices around me. One conversation, however, began to get my attention.
"Look, you're worried about it just sitting there. You don't see the owner. So go up to the driver and mention it," the man said. He didn't sound worried himself. Instead he sounded a bit condescending.
"Don't worry, no bomb in it, just a bunch of dirty clothes," I said. Then I turned to the man next to her. "But you didn't seem worried."
They looked back at me – middle-aged, middle-class, white me. The woman suddenly looked embarrassed. The man looked defiant.
He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "The right wing loons in your country rarely do such things. Most terrorists look nothing like you."
She immediately looked relieved, just like the first woman. All it took was a reassuring word from a complete stranger – a light-skinned, well-spoken stranger.
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