Another anniversary of that tragic day for the Americans and other nations alike. Speculations, documentations and even movies has been played trying to explain what had happened, where could have been the cause and revelation of how people courageously faced the disaster.
Five years has passed... 5 years...
A new face of heroes emerged at that time. And up until now, I believe they will forever carry that badge of bravery, of how duty and responsibility will be selfless –– sacrificial yet of honor. These are the firefighter (specifically of New York). I believe there was even an editorial cartoon uplifting the level of “prestige”.
I have nothing against seeing firemen as heroes,
I mean
superheroes. Here in the Philippines the OCW are considered the new heroes of today. To each his own, if I may say so.
I was there, that 9/11. I saw how it all happened––how the first plane hit the first tower, how it collapsed and the how the people in that area run like ants, screaming for their lives. I was in New Jersey, in my brother’s home, alone with Noelle, my niece. My brother and my sister-in-law were off to their work both located in Manhattan at that time. My niece was still asleep so I decided to tidy up the place, prepare our breakfast and check my mail. For some reason, I opened the radio that early morning. While checking my mail, I heard the DJ said that there was sort of a tourist plane that crashed in one of the towers of the World Trade Center. They still have to confirm it. Something stopped me hearing that. I heard my niece was awake from the baby monitor, I brought her down and opened the television. I kept on pressing the remote looking for a local news channel. The phone rang, it was my sister-in-law telling me the news. She can see the smoking towers from her office window. I saw it too, from the tube. Then the towers collapsed.
That day, our phone seemed to be ringing every minute. Relatives and friends are checking if Noelle and I are all right and also asking if my brother and sister-in-law are ok. Definitely offices where shut down all over Manhattan. But they can’t get home as fast as they could because Holland and Lincoln tunnels, the only passageway linking New Jersey to New York where closed. Another way is taking the train or the ferry boat which for sure was jam packed at that time. So there I was, alone with my niece, panicking.
Yup! I was panicking. Panic in a sense that I was wearing my running shoes, cutoff pants, my trusty Old Navy sweater and my small sling bag which hold my wallet with my IDs, a couple of hundred dollars plus loose coins and my passport. By the breakfast nook was a big baby bag containing a week supply of diapers, 5 bottles with mineral water, powdered milk, baby foods like Gerber in those small glass bottles, cookies and a large bag of Cheerios (my niece’s favorite cereal then). Plus extra clothes for Noelle like pants, shirts, sweaters and the like. I don’t know what I was thinking then. I am waiting for something to be announced or something to be “dropped”. I thought with those stuff I am ready to sweep my niece and run perhaps to our Filipino neighbor.
Recalling how I acted at that time, I partly laughed at myself. Laughed because have I overreacted or was I just giving myself an assurance or a relief? The area where we are staying is a path where usually airplanes pass by. The location isn’t quite that far from NJ’s Newark Airport. Not a day passed that I won’t be seeing or hearing at least 5 airplanes passing by. That day, it was silent. It was awfully quiet.
I am a foreigner on the land that the terrorist attacked. Can you blame me if I really overreacted? Between the time the towers collapsed and my brother and sister-in-law came home, I am praying (even told on of my brother’s friend who called up) that my parents, specially my mom would not open the TV back home or flick it to a channel featuring the attack. That would spare them more panic. But before the day ended. The phone rang again and I heard a panicking voice on the other line. It was my mom. She cried and cried and cried. Asking where is my brother, have I gone talked to him, how’s my niece doing and even telling me to go back home! Wow! Easy said than done. But I can’t blame her. I was even thinking about it for a couple of second but hey! Reality tells me, not a single airport is working at that time! My mom was just talking and talking on the other side of the line in between sobs. I could hardly understand her. I just assured her at that time that
Kuya (that’s how I call my brother) had a plan that by 7pm, if they’re not yet home, a good friend of them will pick me and Noelle up to stay with them until
Kuya and
Ate (for sister) are back from NY and will pick us up. And promised her we will call up again when
Kuya’s home.
Was I selfish at that time? I may not be as courageous those firefighters in New York. But I can’t forget that it was that time that all my senses are top. I kept on looking and checking over my niece who is at that time just turning 3 years old. She has no idea that the world outside her playroom is being attacked, nor had an idea that the only person she’s with, which is me, is somehow worried. She was playing with her toys, watching videos. Her innocence protected her from further harm. Let the adults like her auntie/tita (me) panic. I am a foreigner on that land that is being attacked! My mind was wildly imagining scenes from a war movie or those from Independence Day or Armageddon. God! I think I had to slap myself or shake my head just to break loose from those thoughts. Watching too much movies at HBO’s during late nights.
Mobile lines were cut, obviously right after the towers collapses. I didn’t receive any more calls from my
Kuya or
Ate from their mobiles. Last I heard from them, they were together and trying to find a way to get back to us in NJ. There was no cable therefore we had no internet connection. Only local TV stations where on. TV stations continuously showing updates and scenes from the lower Manhattan area, replaying how the towers were hit and how it looks like when it collapsed. It was like those Jengga blocks that falls down. I couldn’t believe it, seeing it again and again that it was the very building I just went to a couple of weeks ago.
The photo was taken a couple of weeks before the attack. One of the few pictures taken while we were in Liberty Island. It was right after bring our mom to New York’s Kennedy (or JFK) Airport to catch her flight back home (Philippines). After our trip to the Statue of Liberty, my brother brought us straight to the Twin Towers’ Visitor Center (or whatever they call it back then) where you can view the whole of Manhattan’s skyline. It was I think the last week of our Tita (aunt) ‘Dy and Uncle Bernie (may he rest in peace) visit from Australia. And our last chance to set foot on the towers as well.
No wonders of Adobe Photoshop applied here. It's not one of those photos being emailed a few years ago. (The shot where there are tourists on the viewing area of the World Trade Center and behind them was the plane about to hit the building). As far as I know, World Trade Center is open for tourists at around 10am. The first plane hit between 8-9am.
I have told this story to a few of my friends. It is only now that I have written this and told it openly. That day, I was as scared as a lamb without a shepherd to protect me. I may not be a NY firefighter, but I was brave enough not to think of myself alone but of my niece too who’s in my custody at that time. Some find it OA, with me packing a huge bag of Noelle stuff and me wearing running shoes and a sling bag with my wallet and passport in it.
AGAIN, I’m a foreigner, in a foreign land being attacked. I am unarmed. I was protecting my niece and that was the first thing in mind, my first instinct to prepare for the worse thing to happen.
If you were in my shoes, that day… tell me, what would you do?
