Not Just an American Tragedy
“That can’t be right.”
On Tuesday, September 11, I saw the headline “Plane crashes into World Trade Center” while in an Amsterdam internet cafe, and I barely gave it a second thought.
I didn’t realize the magnitude of what had happened until a friend found my fiancé and I at work on the computers and told us just how serious it was.
“The World Trade Center is gone,” he said.
He had been walking around Amsterdam, where every bar, restaurant and shop
had a television or radio turned to the coverage. He came to find us as soon
as he watched the World Trade Center collapse into a pile of rubble.
I thought of our flight from London two days earlier, and how we joked about
the lax security.
The coverage on the internet and TV had the same basic information, the same
horrible images and the same sense that no one really knew what was going
on. The only things we could do were the things we meant to do anyway: eat
dinner, visit friends, go home to our apartment in Amsterdam.
It wasn’t until the next day that I began to grasp the scope of these
terrorist attacks, when I learned that the victims were from more than a
dozen different countries. This wasn’t just an American tragedy.
Everywhere we went on Wednesday, TV’s were turned to the continuing
coverage. Some shop employees could barely turn away from the news to help
customers. We huddled around a TV at a bicycle store with the young man
working there, watching the nightmare unfold together.
When the young man heard our accents, he turned away from the news for a
moment to look at us. “It’s horrible,” was all he could say.
“Yes,” was the only reply we could give.
I walked past the American Embassy on my way home, where a steady stream of
people arrived on bicycle or by foot, carrying flowers.
One woman divided a white bouquet among her three children. Each one reached
through the metal fence surrounding the building to lay their flowers on a
growing pile.
Nearby, a hand-written message left by one mourner urged the world to “Be
wise” as images of celebrating Pakistanis were broadcast around the world.
When I met my Brazilian neighbour in the hall, she expressed her sympathy
for the tragedies of the past couple days, but her sympathy soon turned to
fury as she told me all Muslims should be punished for these crimes.
“I pray there will be a World War Three,” she said fervently.
The force of her anger shook me nearly as much as the terrorist attacks
themselves. I thought of the house just on the other side of the city where
Anne Frank hid with her family from the Nazis during WWII, and how those
empty rooms moved me to tears.
Meanwhile, there were bomb scares in London, Berlin and other major European
cities. People across Europe held candlelight vigils for their friends,
relatives and co-workers missing in New York.
NATO invoked article five of the North Atlantic treaty, based on the
principle that an attack on one member is an attack on all.
On Thursday, Dutch police in Rotterdam arrested four suspects who were
believed to have been involved with an international group of terrorists.
People lined up for hours to sign official condolence books outside American
Embassies.
On Friday, people across Europe observed three minutes of silence, gathering
in squares and cathedrals, or simply pausing in the street at 11 a.m. to
honor those who have been affected by the terrorist attacks.
Queen Elizabeth II interrupted her vacation to attend a ceremony at St.
Paul’s cathedral in London, along with Prime Minister Tony Blair, where “The
Star Spangled Banner” was played.
The Netherland’s Prime Minister, Wim Kok, laid a wreath outside the US
Embassy. American and national flags everywhere flew at half-mast.
Today, a week after the tragedy, people continue to flock to American
Embassies across Europe to bring flowers and messages.
“For my cousin Bobby Parks, missing and presumed dead in the WTC…”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry…”
“Peace.”