My moment of truth, and my sadness since..

I was carrying my groceries home on a relatively warm and wet Friday night. Everything was quiet and the streets were rather peaceful. There was a slight drizzle, but nothing that would affect too many peoples' plans. That said, not many people were out, and i remember walking down the street wondering where everyone was. I reached an underpass and was about to start down its slope so that i could cross over to the other side of a usually busy road.

As I was walking I saw two unfamiliar lads, no older than me, approach in the opposite direction, coming from the underpass. One was short and stocky, very clearly a committed regular at the gym; and the other was tall and gangly with a distinct absent look in his eyes. I don't know why, but they seemed shifty and uneasy, or perhaps this was just something i have added to the night in retrospect. As they got closer to me, I concluded that their vacant looks and staggered gaits were no doubt a result of the high levels of alcohol they had obviously consumed. A strong smell of spirits followed them like a thick, dark cloud, warning of a violent storm ahead and the inevitable trouble that would follow them throughout the course of the night.

They got closer, their pace slowed to a stop. The shorter and more bullish of the two asked me, 'Hey, do you know where the Lion's head is'. I had never seen or heard of this pub before, so I honestly told them, 'Sorry, I have no idea i'm afraid'. They didn't seem to move but instead stood there in awkward silence swaying gently from side to side. The bull asked me again, 'Hey mate, where is the Lion's head', and again I told him that I did not know, not wanting to point them in the wrong direction. I knew though, even as I spoke, that this was not the answer they were looking for, so instead I offered an alternative option. I pointed them in the direction of a 'bar rich' part of town. I suggested that someone there would be probably know better than me.

The lads stood still, and continued to look around them, their shifty eyes surveying their surroundings. I saw one of them look over my shoulder as though something was coming. At this I also turned my head to see what might be approaching. All of a sudden, before I knew what was happening, I'd taken an involuntary step back, my head was hurting, my ear was ringing, my jaw throbbed and the inside of my mouth was bloody. The bull had connected a very well planted right hook, in the moment I had turned. All at once, I was stunned and in shock; confused and scared as I became aware that I was outnumbered and they had successfully utilised the element of surprise.

I quickly regained my footing and stood my ground, my confusion spurring adrenaline release and my fear spawning anger. When I looked up to see where the blow had come from, I was admittedly relieved to see that they had begun to retreat. I was relieved because although I was full of raw emotion, I wasnt sure what I was going to do with it all; and I was fearful of what might happen next if I let my emotions dictate my following actions. Instead I stood and watched them trot away. I wanted to chase them, but I didn't.

As if to mock me, the heavens opened up and it started to rain, as I continued my walk home. I was in pain, angry, carrying a heavy bag and getting wet. I didn't cry, and I didn't think. All the feelings that had been so close to the surface had temporarily been washed away by the rain, and my mind was just numb. My mouth was still bleeding, and the left side of my face was aching. I kept walking.

I hated the world and the evil in it. Why me? What had I done to deserve such unprovoked abuse? Why had God let this happen to me? It didn't seem fair.

I reached home about 10 minutes later, and then started trying to think a bit more rationally about why this had happened. I tried to reason with myself, hoping to regain the calm state of mind, I had started my journey with.

I didn't want to believe, and still try not to believe, this was a racially motivated attack. But I am a black man in a world that is still very much broken and it would be foolish for me to totally disregard this possibility. Perhaps they were just violent drunks, angry with the world and needing an outlet or release, and I was just the wrong guy, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I don't know, it all really doesn't make much sense to me.

Why would someone do that, disrupt anothers existence with no possible chance of gain? Or why would one do that at all? What does it take for one to want to cause pain to another so unnecessarily? What sort of warped mental state do you have to be in to treat another human being so brutally? And what is the motivation for such a senseless and unrewarding act? The only emotion that I believe could drive such an act is hatred. Does hate justify action? How could they hate me when they don't know me? Is it the colour of my skin?

I have always tried to believe that human beings are inherently good. Acts such as that described above suggest otherwise. After all of this, there is one big question: If I were to see them now, what would I say.. or what would I do..?