I Remember 9/11
I lived in Norwood, New Jersey. It was a bright sunny morning as I drove to work at the United Nations in New York, 22 miles away. That morning, I left home very early, at 7am, as I had a meeting at the Japanese Permanent Mission in New York at 10am, to discuss the planning for the third Tokyo International Conference for African Development (TICAD). As director for Africa in the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, I represented the Secretary General in the Task Force charged with the organization of this conference. I had not finished my preparations, so I thought that I would give myself at least an hour in the office before going to the meeting.
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Traffic was light at the George Washington Bridge, so I made it earlier to the office than I had expected. “Good”, I thought. “I can go down to the cafeteria and have a coffee.”
I got my coffee, and as I was at the cashier’s paying for it, someone bolted in. “A plane has hit the World Trade Center”, he announced.
“No”, I said. “Another rich playboy fooling around.”
I quickly gulped down my coffee and returned to my office to continue the preparations for the meeting.
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Suddenly, one of my staff ran to my office.
“Mrs Stevens”, she said, my husband just called and asked me to return home at once.”
I resented her interruption just as I was delving into my preparations, so I said to her, “Please go home if you want to, but do not forget to submit an application for leave.”
She tried to explain further but I did not want to listen. “Please,” I said, as I beckoned to her to leave my office.
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After a few minutes, I went to the bathroom, and on my return found the office empty. Everyone had left. Now I started getting worried. I collected my papers and decided to go outside to see what was happening. The public address system was saying something, but it was inaudible. While waiting for the lift, I asked some workmen who were doing some repairs to the building, what had happened.
“It is the Palestinians. They have attacked the USA”, one said.
“How ludicrous”, I thought but proceeded to take the lift downstairs from the tenth floor where my office was.
Downstairs, there was absolute chaos. All the workers from one and two UN Plaza were assembled. Nobody knew what was happening. The cell phones were not working.
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Then I spotted a compatriot of mine who was in New York attending a UNDP meeting and residing in a nearby hotel. “Why don’t we go to your hotel room to watch the TV to find out what is happening?” he suggested.
What we saw was horrific. Two large planes had struck the World Trade Center and both towers were smouldering. People were running around frantically like chickens without heads and some were jumping from the high floors of the building. It was even more frightening to think that this was only a few blocks from the United Nations and my office and that the UN building could have been a target.
“Well, I thought”, I do not think my meeting will be taking place, so I better go home, after calling my children in Geneva to let them know that I am safe.”
I came out and tried to enter the UN garage, where my car was parked, but it had been cordoned off. Later I realised that it was a good thing I could not get the car, as all the land crossings to New Jersey had been closed. I learnt that the only possibility to get to New Jersey was to catch the ferry from the west side, so I decided to work across New York to the west side, take a ferry to Hoboken and then travel by bus from Hoboken to Norwood.
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It is amazing that at times of difficulties there is so much inter-racial solidarity. My walk across New York was an experience to remember. Everyone was so friendly and caring unlike the New York I knew. On arrival at the Hudson River terminal, there was a large crowd waiting to cross. The crossing was free of charge, but we were warned that the New York Waterway ferries would only transport people from New York to New Jersey but would not accept passengers for the return trip.
After waiting for about an hour, I got on the ferry. As I looked back at the dust-filled New York and wondered what had happened to those people we saw jumping from the buildings. But I had to get home.
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On our arrival in Hoboken, we were doused with water as we left the ferry. But then came the shock. The normal bus services had been suspended, although there were some buses being offered to take people to different points in New Jersey, but mainly to the south. I now wished I had taken an offer from a colleague to spend the night at her place in Manhattan, which I had rejected because I was suspicious of the dust circulating around. There was only one bus going north to Hackensack, so I boarded it, even though I did not know how to get from there to Norwood. When we disembarked there were about twelve of us who needed to go further north.
So we decided to walk northwards.
“I wonder how I will get home,” I dared to say. I was immediately reprimanded by the self-appointed leader of the group.
“Let nobody worry about getting home. We will all make it, ok?” That silenced me.
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As we continued our trek northwards, members of the group gradually dropped off as they reached their destinations. We must have walked for at least five miles before we got to Teaneck Road, where the last people left the group and I was now alone. It was a long way to Norwood, but at least I knew the way and will just continue walking along this route.
Then I saw a bus with the inscription “out of service”, but I dared to wave the driver and surprisingly he took pity on me and stopped. I am only going only as far as Closter, but I can give you a ride. I jumped into the bus and thanked him profusely. I will just have to walk from there, I thought.
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When he dropped me off, I realised that my feet were sore, so I removed my shoes and started to walk barefooted, something I had done in my childhood. By now it was turning dark and there was no one in the streets as I started walking up the three-mile Tappan Road. I had to persevere. Then a car stopped and the driver beckoned to me to come into his car. At first I was scared, as I knew it could be dangerous to get into a car with a stranger.
“Do you need a ride?” the driver asked. “I guess you are coming from New York and we know that you must have had a hard time getting home.”
I hesitated for a moment, but then I thought that if he really meant to harm me, he could easily have grabbed me as there was no one around. So I conceded and got into his car and he drove me home. I arrived home at 10pm, ten hours after leaving New York.
