In memory of the 2981 victims of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, among them three Albanians: Frrok Camaj, Mon Gjonbalaj and Simon Dedvukaj
[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]
“If you’re looking for beautiful beaches, you should go to southern Albania and visit coastal towns like Saranda or Dhermi,” said Marko.
Steve looked at him.
“Don’t look so surprised, Mr. Ferguson. I went to Albania a few years ago and can tell you those are some of the most beautiful beaches on earth. Actually, I didn’t go to Albania to frequent the beaches. I went to search for relatives and learned a lot about my family. I found records dating back to the 15th century. My family was scattered throughout southern Albania, in Berat and Saranda as well as parts of Greece and Italy. That’s why I went to Saranda, a very old city with pristine beaches and a beautiful castle facing the sea.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Said. “If you went to Algeria, you’d see beautiful beaches there as well. Steve, you and Jacqueline could spend your honeymoon in Algeria.”
“Marko described the beaches of Albania as beautifully as a poet, and I love how the mountains meet the sea. As I told Besim, I’ve heard about Albania since I was little. Hey, Jacqueline, why don’t we go to Albania for our honeymoon?”
“You won’t regret it,” said Besim.
“Honey, if you want to go to Albania, we can,” said Jacqueline. “Sokol will be happy to hear we have decided to visit a beach in his country.”
She and Steve embraced warmly, then left the restaurant. They could still see the sunset, now concealed by the tall building. They saw a beautiful young woman with short hair, coming out of the elevator.
“That’s my wife, Serena Jackson,” said Said.
Serena smiled and nodded.
“Said, you called me and told me to come to your office since Steve Ferguson was meeting you there. I’ve watched him on TV for years so I’m happy to meet him and his fiancé in person,” she said, shaking Steve’s and Jacqueline’s hands.
“I forgot to tell you we were meeting in the restaurant,” said Said.
Marko looked at Said and Serena.
“I didn’t think there was another couple like Steve and Jacqueline, but now that I see Said and Serena, I’m not so sure. What do you think, my dear friends?”
“Marko never met Serena before?” said Jaser. “Even though she works here?”
“About 20 thousand people work in this building for more than 350 companies,” said Serena. “I had never heard of Marko before even though he works with Said. Anyway, thank you for your kind words, Marko.”
“Said and Serena make a nice couple indeed,” thought Jaser. “He is a devoted Muslim who prays several times a day every day, and he married an American who wears a big, gold cross on a chain around her neck, like the ones Christians used to wear in Europe when they occupied the Islamic territories.”
Jaser resented Said for marrying a Christian and was also jealous because Said quickly became a company manager who would likely receive a promotion soon.
A song from over a century ago came through loud and clear on Radio Tirana, a station for immigrants. Marta had often heard it when she was growing up. The song told the story of a brave warrior and his 24 friends who killed Macedonians until they ran out of ammunition
“I hate you, Said, even though you’ve helped me and consider me a Muslim brother,” thought Jaser. “I hate you even though you got me this job and always encourage me to do better. I hate you as much as I hate Americans, and I am ready to do what it takes to harm them. Allah, I can’t wait to take revenge in your name!”
Lost in thought, Jaser jumped to his feet and said, “I’m sorry. I have to make a phone call.”
He walked to a corner and took out his cell phone.
“Marvan, it’s Jaser al-Sadri. Where are you?”
“At Terminal B in Logan Airport in Boston. I’m here with Muhammad Ata.”
He moved to an area with fewer people.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A few minutes ago, I tried to go through security with a large knife, the one I use at work,” said Jaser, “but the guard caught me.”
“That’s okay. What matters is we’re doing our sacred duty. I can’t explain it, but as I was talking with some infidels in the restaurant, I felt a lump in my throat.”
“Why, Brother Jaser?”
“Get this, my manager, a Muslim from Algeria, is proud he married an American Christian. I can barely contain myself, especially since an American journalist from CNN is there with his fiance and two other Albanians.”
“Stay cool. Like I said, I’m here at the airport with Muhammad Ata to find out what people are allowed to take on board. Our holy day is near.”
“Thank you, Brother Marvan.”
When Jaser returned, everyone had left the restaurant, and people were walking toward the elevators.
“I’ve chosen most of the people for my documentary,” Steve told Besim. “I’d like to meet Marta and Trim.”
“Come anytime,” said Besim. “Albanians are known for their hospitality.”
“I will,” said Steve.
“I can’t wait to tell Marta who’s coming to see us.”
A song from over a century ago came through loud and clear on Radio Tirana, a station for immigrants. Marta had often heard it when she was growing up in Selishta, a village in Gruda. The song told the story of a brave warrior from Shkoder, Oso Kuka, and his 24 friends who killed Macedonians until they ran out of ammunition. When the Macedonian commander captured them in Vranina and ordered them to surrender, they refused and set barrels of gunpowder on fire, sacrificing their lives. The song moved Marta every time she heard it. She sang along with the radio and didn’t realize Trim was listening.
“Mom, you sing beautifully,” he said as he walked to the sofa where Marta sat. He was only 10 but very mature for his age. He had curly hair like his mother.
“This song brings back fond memories,” said Marta.
“I know,” said Trim. “You told me about Oso Kuka and the other brave men who fought with him.”
A hundred years ago, foreigners with their own maps invaded our country. In London in 1913, diplomats established Albania’s new borders without considering the people who had lived there for centuries. Their decision separated families and neighbors. How was it possible that one village belonged to Albania, but the neighboring village belonged to Montenegro?
“This song was written and performed in Shkoder as soon as the residents of the city learned of the bravery of Oso Kuka and his friends. It became very popular which infuriated the Montenegrans. You see, the world’s leading countries took Gruda and other regions from Albania and gave them to Montenegro just like they gave Kosovo to Serbia. Your father has told you about these events which changed the lives of many Albanians.”
Trim nodded. He had gained a deeper understanding of the tragedies which had forced his parents and thousands of other Albanians to flee their country. Marta continued:
“A hundred years ago, foreigners with their own maps invaded our country. In London in 1913, diplomats established Albania’s new borders without considering the people who had lived there for centuries. Their decision separated families and neighbors. How was it possible that one village belonged to Albania, but the neighboring village belonged to Montenegro?”
Marta also told Trim about his great-grandfather, who was 20 years old at the time and had just gotten married.
“People married young back then,” she said. “He was a construction worker, hired by the foreigners to build the new border crossings which were supposed to look like pyramids. He and his colleague built the pyramids, but in such a way that they would fall apart. If they didn’t fall apart on their own, the workers would tear them down at night. The foreigners didn’t know what was happening until one night, they caught your great-grandfather and his friends. They shot and killed your great-grandfather. His wife was pregnant with my father at the time. Those were hard times for the people of Gruda. The Montenegrans, like the Serbs, persecuted Albanians and did everything in their power to force them out of their own country. Many people left Gruda and built a new village near Shkoder which they named New Gruda. The people who stayed in Gruda hoped things would change for the better, but they got worse. The Montenegrans killed my maternal grandparents. So we decided to immigrate to the United States, along with Rrok’s family. We live in New York, but our hearts live in the old country to which we hope to return one day.”
Read: Roses – Poetry from Albania
The phone rang, and Marta answered it. It was Besim. Marta’s face glowed when she heard his cheerful voice.
“If you and Marko are going to be part of Steve’s documentary, why do you need Trim and me?” she wondered.
Trim asked if an American journalist was making a documentary about their family.
“Yes, and he even invited us to his wedding,” said Marta.
After she hung up the phone, she told Trim about the American his father had met at the Twin Towers. (Continues)
Click here for Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4,
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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.
