In memory of the 2981 victims of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, among them three Albanians
[Disastrous September, by the Albanian-American author, Skifter Këlliçi, takes place on two different days: May 10 and September 11, 2001. The novel tells the story of a well-known CNN reporter named Steve Ferguson, engaged to Jacqueline Cramer, a flight attendant based at Logan International Airport in Boston, Massachusetts. In addition, the novel explores the lives of four Albanians. Besim Istrefi, Rrok Camaj, and Marko Muzaka worked as window washers in the Twin Towers. Sokol Kama, a journalist and writer, works in security at Logan International Airport. On September 11, 2001 just a few days before Steve and Jacqueline’s wedding, two planes, bound for Los Angeles, depart from Boston. Terrorists hijack them and crash them into the Twin Towers in New York. The author, who worked at Logan International Airport during the attacks, offers a gripping account of the tragedy and shows how it could have been avoided.]
By SKIFTER KELLICI
[Translated from the Albanian by Carrie Hooper]
Steve entered the hall in the hotel where his wedding was supposed to have taken place. Suddenly, he heard Jacqueline’s voice. Stunned, he turned and saw her and her family. She wore a white dress, and a veil covered her smiling, white face. She seemed to come from the land of bliss.
“I came back, Darling,” she said, opening her arms.
Steve didn’t know what to say. He was half dreaming, half awake, between the real and the surreal.
“Why are you surprised, Steve?” she asked. “Weren’t you the one who lured me with our special song every time you threw your arms around me:
Honey, come back in September, the month we met.
Come back and let us run, hand in hand
Through the meadow and the forest?”
“I kept my promise,” she added, a note of triumph in her voice.
Looking at Steve with tenderness, she continued to sing:
”I came back as promised, my darling,
In my wedding dress,
A bride in September with its twilight breezes
And rays of sparkling sunshine.
Therefore, say to our friends,
You are invited to our wedding.”
At once, the hall was crowded with guests, among them, Besim and Marta who approached Steve and Jacqueline, lifted Jacqueline’s veil, and began singing the Albanian song they had agreed to sing at their wedding:
“How beautiful is the bride,
As beautiful as beauty,
Her body like a cypress,
Eyes like an olive tree.”
What a coincidence! Didn’t that song describe Jacqueline? Wasn’t she strong and graceful with eyes as dark as olives, unusual for someone with yellow hair?
Steve reached for Jacqueline, pulled her to him, and kissed her. Meanwhile, the wedding guests sang songs from their countries of origin. Steve’s boss sang Polish songs, Jim sang Scottish songs, a cameraman sang Hungarian songs, and Steve’s driver sang Brazilian songs. The snippets of songs melded into an intoxicating poppourri. The guests danced the polka, the cardas, and the samba. Besim, Marta, Rrok, and Sokol, danced Albanian dances. Even Marko performed dances he had seen years ago in an Albanian documentary called Dances of the Eagles. It was the colorful choreography of America, which welcomed people from all over the world with open arms. Steve and Jacqueline also danced to the charming melodies.
“Mr. Ferguson?” said a voice behind Steve.
Steve whirled around and saw the hotel manager, who smiled nervously.
“I told you not to worry,” he said. “We did everything you asked. You can see for yourself.”
After a brief pause, he added, “But why didn’t you bring Miss Cramer with you? She would have been pleased. We did everything she wanted, too.”
The manager spoke with aloofness, as if he feared he was insulting Steve.
“You and Miss Cramer can come by any time. I’ll be here.”
His eyes shone as he continued, “You look upset. Is something wrong?”
Then, as if remembering something, his eyes widened, and he stammered, “How stupid of me! You witnessed the horror at the Twin Towers, and here I am bothering you with my chatter. Pull yourself together. Then we’ll talk.”
Embarrassed, the manager left the room.
Remember, just as the sly Greeks conquered Troy with a wooden horse, the devious terrorists destroyed the Twin Towers with planes.
A feeling of loneliness overcame Steve. The happiness of a few moments ago had been an illusion. He was alone in the hall through which people came and went, still dazed by the day’s events. There were no wedding guests, and worst of all, Jacqueline was gone.
Steve went to a corner and slumped, exhausted, into a chair. To be sure, he needed to rest. The big man, who had patiently borne his suffering on television, shook with sobs.
After a few minutes, Sokol, his heart pounding, called Steve’s cell again and heard his distant, muffled voice.
“Oh, Steve, I don’t know what to say,” he stammered. “I’m a writer and a journalist like you, and words have never failed me until now. Your reports touched all of us. You not only expressed America’s sorrow, but also the pain of losing Jacqueline. I could never have done what you did.”
Sokol couldn’t say any more. In fact, he felt as if he had said too much.
“That’s not true,” said Steve, trying to keep his composure. “You can do much more than I did. Since you witnessed these events, and since you worked with and befriended several of the victims, you should write a novel about them. Remember, just as the sly Greeks conquered Troy with a wooden horse, the devious terrorists destroyed the Twin Towers with planes. That should never have happened. Although the towers fell, America will never fall, but will remain the Promised Land for everyone in search of a better life. This makes us proud even as we mourn. You must write about the September 11 tragedy.”
Sokol took Steve’s words not as an order, but as a wish, a request, and a duty. Though his lips felt parched, he managed to say, “Thank you, my friend, for your suggestion. I promise I will write about today’s tragedy.”
Sokol hung up his phone and closed his eyes. He recalled his time working at Logan International Airport and his first meeting with the impish Jacqueline. He thought of Emma, a pleasant African-American woman with a splendid sense of humor, and Greta, who took her first and last flight. He thought of the pilots: Chris, who was about to start teaching at a flight school, and his young friend, Patrick, who admired him. Sokol had said good-bye to Emma, Greta, Chris, and Patrick as they took pictures with Jacqueline and promised to raise a toast on the plane in honor of her and Steve’s wedding.
He thought of Besim and Rrok, who couldn’t wait to go back to Kosovo and Gruda. He also recalled Marko’s jokes. Finally, he thought of the terrorists, especially the one with the angelic face and the one who seemed to have languished for a long time. If only Sokol hadn’t let them take the pocket knives and bottles on board, with which they committed one of the worst crimes in history!
He also thought of the feisty, elderly couple, George and Amanda, as well as the hundreds of people in the towers whom he hadn’t known, yet felt as if he had known, whose lives, like those of his friends, had been cut short in brutal fashion. Although he was alone, he pictured Steve next to him and proclaimed, “My friend, I promise I will write about them!” (Concludes)
Click here for Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part-6, Part-7, Part-8, Part-9, Part-10, Part-11, Part-12, Part-13, Part-14, Part-15, Part-16, Part-17, Part-18, Part-19, Part-20, Part-21, Part-22, Part-23, Part-24, Part-25
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About the Author
Skifter Këllici was born in Tirana, Albania and received a diploma in history and literature from the University of Tirana. He worked as a journalist, scholar, and sportscaster on radio and television. He is the author of several novels and nonfiction books, including the children’s books, “Memories of the Old Neighborhood” and “In the Footsteps” as well as the historical novels, “Assassination in Paris”, “The Murderer with the White Hands”, and “September Disaster.” He wrote the screenplay for “In the Footsteps” which won a special prize at the International Children’s Film Festival in Giffoni, Italy in 1979. He has lived in Boston, Massachusetts since 1999.
About the Translator
Carrie Hooper was born and raised in Elmira, New York. She has been blind since birth. She received a B.A. in vocal performance from Mansfield University, Mansfield, Pennsylvania. She went on to receive an M.A. in German and an M.A. in vocal performance from the State University of New York at Buffalo. After completing her studies, she spent a year at the Royal University College of Music in Stockholm, Sweden as a Fulbright scholar. Carrie currently lives in Elmira, New York. She taught German, Italian, and Romanian at Elmira College. She has a passion for foreign languages and in addition to the languages mentioned above, she is also proficient in Swedish, Spanish, and Albanian. Music also plays an important role in Carrie’s life. She teaches voice and piano lessons, gives vocal concerts, plays the piano and organ at a church, and sings in a community chorus. Carrie not only loves music and languages, but also enjoys poetry. She has published three books: “Piktura në fjalë” (“Word Paintings”), a bilingual collection of poetry (Albanian-English), “My Life in My Words”, and “Away from Home.” She has also translated texts from Albanian and Romanian to English.
[The book ‘Disastrous September is being reproduced in episodes with the consent of the author]
