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]
In the course of about half an hour, while Sokol covered for a worker on break, hundreds of passengers, most bound for Los Angeles, went through security. As she inspected the luggage, Fatie noticed several glass bottles, most of which contained alcoholic beverages, as well as a large number of perfume bottles. If she saw small metallic objects, such as a pocket knife, she stopped the belt to make sure everything was in order. Sokol measured the knives to ensure their length conformed to the size allowed by the FAA. If passengers carried knives which were longer than the maximum size allowed, he asked them to fill out a form and leave their knives with the security personnel.
A young man, Abdul, carried a small knife with which Sokol almost cut himself.
“Wow! That’s a sharp knife!” he said.
Abdul looked like an Arab who had just gone through security with a similar knife. But while the other man had smiled, Abdul looked more serious, even sick. He said he hadn’t realized how sharp his knife was.
“I just bought it,” he said. “Its handmade handle caught my eye. Am I not allowed to take it with me? It only cost five dollars.”
“You’re allowed to have it since it’s a small knife,” said Sokol.
With that, Abdul went through security. Gary motioned to Sokol to meet him in the restaurant, where a small farewell ceremony had been organized for Jacqueline. While Sokol waited for the worker who would cover for him during his meeting, he wondered why Gary wanted to see him. He had checked every object carefully. Had there been a problem with the last passenger?
Sokol knew Gary wasn’t in a good mood the moment he saw him.
“What was the deal with the passenger who carried a pocket knife?”
Sokol, who sensed a storm brewing, explained what had happened.
“Why did you stress the knife’s sharpness? Don’t you realize you could have caused a misunderstanding? You’ve been at this job for four years. You’re a journalist, a writer, with a lot of experience. Didn’t it occur to you the passenger could file a complaint with the FAA, with Jay Clement himself? Why do you make such remarks if you know the object in question is allowed on board?”
Sokol felt a pang of guilt.
“I was struck by the sharpness of the blade. It could cut a person’s throat. I apologize.”
“Very well. Just don’t lecture me like you lectured Jay about what should and shouldn’t be allowed on the plane. It’s none of your business. I told you once and I’ll say it again. Just follow the rules. I’m planning a staff meeting in regard to this problem. Now go back to work.”
He left without giving Sokol a chance to say more.
American Airlines Flight 11 would soon depart from Boston for Los Angeles. Muhammad and Abdul, looking tired and concerned, sat close together. The other three Arabs seemed happy, like the other passengers, most of whom looked forward to seeing their loved ones. George and Amanda noticed how happy the three young men looked. No one knew about their evil intentions. Their smiles masked imminent death.
Muhammad and Abdul whispered to each other. Muhammad said to Abdul in Arabic, “Calm down. We made it through security with our knives and bottles. I hope Marvan and his friends made it. Keep smiling. Don’t look so distressed. Otherwise, you’ll draw attention to yourself.”
“I got scared when the security worker pointed out the sharpness of my knife,” said Abdul.
“I felt the same way,” said Muhammad, “but thank Allah, one of the flight attendants, the blond one, walked by while the security worker was talking to me.”
“I saw her. I heard her say you could only cut a fish with that knife. It’s funny they didn’t ask you anything, Vail.”
“I was surprised, too,” said Vail. “It was the same security worker who was here last year when I went through this same checkpoint. He just measured my knife. He didn’t say a word.”
“That’s strange,” said Muhammad.
“I saw someone motion to him to meet him in the restaurant,” said Rashid, Muhammad’s brother.
“I saw that, too,” said Satem.
“Who could that have been?” asked Abdul.
“Probably the supervisor,” said Satem.
“That explains everything,” said Muhammad.
“I would have done the same thing. He was just doing his job,” said Vail.
“I know the FAA rules. Our knives were allowed on board. That worker had no right to ask questions.”
“You’re right,” said Satem. “He was trying to provoke us.”
“Exactly,” said Muhammad. “His job was to measure the knives and if they were longer than the maximum size allowed, he could have said something. Otherwise, he should have kept his mouth shut.”
“We can file a complaint against him, right?” said Rashid.
“Of course,” said Muhammad. “But there’s no need. We made it through security, and that’s all that matters. I don’t know what the matter with Abdul is, though.”
“Indeed, my brother, you look pale,” said Satem.
“I got scared and nervous at the checkpoint. What if they had taken away our knives? I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to worry you, but it could have happened. Then we wouldn’t have been able to perform our sacred duty.”
“Don’t say any more. We made it through security with our knives and perfume bottles filled with tear gas. Now we can keep our promise to Allah,” said Muhammad, looking at his cohorts.
“No one can stop us!” said Satem.
“No one!” affirmed the rest in unison.
“Then let us smile even more,” said Muhammad. “Today is our holy day. Today we are going to Allah’s kingdom. We will be heroes!”
The whole group felt a little uneasy. They were about to embark on the greatest mission of their lives and were going to their eternal home. Recently, on a cold and windy night, Muhammad, Marvan, and the others talked about this day on the third floor of an old building in Hamburg. Unfortunately, no one overheard their conversation then or now.
Read: Sweat – Poetry from Albania
“I don’t know why,” Muhammad thought, “but that blond flight attendant who said my knife didn’t pose a threat reminded me of Sharon, a blond American I met in Hamburg. She always smiled like her. I, an Egyptian from Cairo, who had just moved to Hamburg, could have loved her if she hadn’t been an American. But I hated her the way I hated all Americans. She never approached me or talked to me. I can’t say she hated me, but I couldn’t stand it that she didn’t make the first move. I wanted her to fall in love with me so I could put her down. I wanted her to adore me and be submissive to this Egyptian, an architect who studied in the land of pyramids, designed and built by my ancestors hundreds of years ago when America was home to the Indians as the Europeans called them when Columbus discovered their country. The Europeans didn’t civilize them. They took their land by force. Soon everybody was fighting over the land, women were raped, men were hunted down, and many became slaves. Later, the whites brought blacks from Africa. That’s how America became a superpower. My friends and I promised bin Laden, the Almighty Creator Allah, and His son, Muhammad, whose name I bear with pride, that we would dispel the myth that Americans live in peace and harmony, regardless of religion, that the American people would suffer and die. Great Allah, you are about to meet ten of your most faithful followers who now sit in four planes, ready to embark on their sacred mission. (Continues)
Click here for Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part-6, Part-7, Part-8,
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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]
