9/11
Those now iconic numbers are forever and inextricably linked to a day of great and previously unimaginable tragedy. Although initially planned as an attack on the United States of America, it rippled tentacles of fear and uncertainty across the world.
On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001 though, it was just another day. So nondescript that, looking back now, I can’t distinguish it from any other morning.
It was when my director at work came into our workspace to inform us that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center that the day ceased to be an ordinary day.
As we would later find out, that plane was the first of four coordinated attacks on notable American landmarks.
My director said it appeared that the plane might have had a malfunction that caused it to crash into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. This seemed to be the general belief until some minutes later when she returned to inform us that a second plane had crashed into World Trade Center’s South Tower.
My company was not one of those with a television in the reception or anywhere else that I had seen, but somehow we managed to track down possibly the only TV in the building. We met many other people crowded round the set all straining to hear some explanation for what was going on.
The first crash could be an accident, but a second one was decidedly not. There were speculations of this being a terrorist attack.
Some thirty minutes later, when we heard about the third plane crashing into part of the Pentagon, any doubt about this being more than a string of coincidental happenstance was removed from our minds.
And by the time we heard about the fourth plane crashing into a field in Pennsylvania another half an hour later, most of us were numb with shock.
The numbness was – in my case – quickly replaced by worry – when I tried calling my brother who lived in New York City at the time.
His line appeared to be busy. As some of my colleagues tried reaching out to their loved ones in New York, they all reported getting the same busy signal.
My mother was visiting my brother and I at the time from Nigeria. Several times a year or whenever her schedule permitted, she would visit me in Boston and my brother in New York City.
My brother had planned various sight-seeing expeditions for my mother on this particular trip and my worry exploded into panic when I remembered that they were meant to visit the World Trade Center that morning.
I redoubled my efforts to get my brother on the phone and was met with a busy signal each time. It appeared that the phone exchange was down or overwhelmed by the volume of people trying to check on their friends and families.
I don’t remember getting any work done that day. We mostly sat around doing nothing. Some people stayed by the TV, but the images of the World Trade Center towers crumbling terrified me and I had to leave.
I returned to my desk and just sat there. I sent my brother an email, but I had no hope that he would see it and respond to it fast enough to assuage my fears.
Conversations buzzed all around. The speculations about who the terrorists were. What the US government would do in retaliation. How this might lead to World War 3.
At some point, we were informed that we could close early. No one was doing anything much in the way of work anyway.
Some people were scared that another attack was imminent, after all New York and the Washington DC area had been attacked. Maybe Boston, another prominent city on the East Coast, would be next?
The bus and trains were crowded with people keen to quickly return to the safety of their homes and families.
I was never so relieved as I was to make it to my attic apartment without incident.
At some point – I don’t remember when – my brother called me. The phone lines were back to normal by then.
He and my mother were fine.
Although they had planned on visiting the World Trade Centers that morning, they found themselves with some unexpected free time the day before and had gone then instead.
They must have been one of the last people to sight-see in the towers.
Relief flowed through me. It was only then that I could settle in front of the TV to watch the news coverage of the attacks.
By then, it had been confirmed that these were highly coordinated terrorist attacks by Al-Qaeda. This led to the US declaring a War on Terror and invading Afghanistan, where the leader of the terrorist group was living.
Close to 3,000 people were estimated to have died in the plane crashes or at the sites. Some victims were confirmed dead, but there were many others who were missing and eventually assumed to have died as a result of the attacks.
This incident cast a new hue of uncertainty and fear across the world. Travelling – especially to and from the United States – was also forever changed. We’ve all had to get used to traveling with small quantities of liquids in our carry-on luggage, having our electronic devices scrutinised and being selected for random full body scans.
It is difficult to imagine that twenty years have gone by since. For many of us, those twenty years have gone by incredibly fast. However, for the friends and families of the victims, I can only imagine that they have felt each passing day deeply, grappling with the pain of losing loved ones in such a terrible way and learning to live with their absence.
I pray that such a thing never occurs again. However, in the world we live in now, where peace hangs in increasingly precarious balance, this wish sometimes feel like a vain hope.
What I can say is that I pray for peace and comfort for all the people who lost loved ones in the attacks. And may the souls of the dearly departed rest in eternal and perfect peace.
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