Rogers: Walking Brussels' paralyzed streets

Martin Rogers | USA TODAY Sports

BRUSSELS – The chocolate museum in the heart of Brussels was open for business Tuesday, a few steps from an armored military vehicle and a lone soldier, stamping his feet to stave off the chill, his automatic weapon gripped and ready.

As the gray skies threw down sleet and a sharp wind blew it into the few faces seen on the streets, a salon offering pedicures lifted its shutters, one of a small collection of businesses to defy the lockdown that has paralyzed Belgium's capital.

Banks, pharmacies and the iconic Christmas market that offers festive crafts and delicious treats from cute wooden huts stayed firmly closed.

I flew here from the United States when Brussels announced its fears of a terrorist threat similar in scale to the Paris attacks that killed 130 people.

Against that backdrop the final of the Davis Cup tennis event between Belgium and Great Britain is set to take place in nearby Ghent starting Friday, the offer of another opportunity to look at the ways sports endures despite the deeds of those who perpetrate evil, and the role that athletic competition can play in the healing.

As a sports journalist, one sometimes gets to lyricize about the games we love through a soothing lens, those rare occasions when the physical action of the players takes on the role of performance art, a familiarity that provides a sense of normalcy in a time of strife.

But sometimes this job is merely the vehicle by which you arrive at a place where the only appropriate story is to relate the reality of what you see.

Or what you don't see.

What is to be seen in Brussels right now is the impact of an invisible threat. Terrorism has its name for a reason, because it feeds off the fear of carnage even more than the actual damage itself. The result of its poisonous bite is to create confusion and Brussels is indeed a place struggling to make sense of what it is hearing from its politicians and security forces who have said an attempted attack could be “imminent.”

On Tuesday, I walked Brussels’ streets for more than four hours. The quiet, the tension, the sense of unease – you feel it with every step. More than anything you notice the complete absence of children, off school per government mandate but understandably kept inside by their concerned parents.

The only child I saw all morning was an infant carried by a woman, begging for spare change in a deserted central spot where there would normally be tourists.

A couple of miles away, in the inner city enclave of Molenbeek, there is an extra layer to the turmoil. This is where Salah Abdeslam, believed to be one of the chief organizers of the Paris attacks, grew up and where he may have returned following the tragic events in France.

Not only do locals here, many of them Muslim, fear falling victim to terrorist activity in their own city, they are aware that the actions of Islamic State and its representatives are likely to only make their life more difficult.

“People think that because of our religion we support (ISIS),” said a young man who gave his name as Moeen. “But many Muslims hate them because they turn people against us.”

Back near the chocolate museum, in a small café filled with photographs of cycling and soccer exploits, locals flicked between news channels and discussed the merits of the government action. They debated whether the visible army presence would provide a deterrent or serve as a red flag to potential terrorists. They wondered when things would get back to normal and discussed the plan to reopen schools and partially restart the metro system on Wednesday.

And they spoke about the appropriateness of holding the Davis Cup as planned, with most believing the match should have been rescheduled but understanding why it wasn’t.

We have long seen that national pride, whether facilitated by sports or other means, can be a powerful force for unity in the wake of tragedy. But can it have the same effect for a community playing an excruciating waiting game?

Only time can do that. And peace.