I feel ghastly.

I wish I was home with my parents, or in Boston with my brother, or somewhere with people I love.

I came out of a (mediocre) Korean restaurant last night with Sasha and Karina, talking and laughing. We get into the car, and the driver tells something to Sasha in Russian. He turns around and says, I am sorry. There is a very serious situation. The United States is under attack by terrorists and they are talking about war.

You know, I didn't believe him. I thought it was some awful Russian joke. Or some kind of radio drama being misunderstood. It wasn't until Karina began translating snatches of the radio for me that I began to worry. "Camp David has been attcked," "A missile shot down a plane," "A plane just hit the Pentagon."

I got into the apartment where I'm staying and turned on the TV. CNN was being shown, dubbed into Russian. I could still hear the English, though, and there was a big "Attack on America" graphic on the bottom of the screen, complete with scrolling information. I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. I almost puked. Instead, I sat on the couch, transfixed, for an hour.

The I realized how very alone I was. I had no long-distance service in the apartment. Bishkek is no farther from the US than Tashkent is, but Tashkent is home now, one of many. But Bishkek is not home at all. So all I could do was sit alone and watch the horrific images.

I watched TV for four hours last night, watching the Russian programming when the CNN feed ran out. There were still the awful pictures, and I could understand the occasional bit of Russian, "Nightmare," "Horror," "Very bad," "Fire." People were piling flowers in front of the US embassy in Moscow. I watched until the channel went off the air and was replaced by the colored stripes. Then I worried. My brother lives in Boston; what if he had decided to go to LA? What if he was on one of the planes? I knew it was irrational, but life without my brother would be unthinkable, and I was so upset that worry about something was inevitable. Then I went to bed and had terrifying dreams.

In the car taking me to work in the morning, the driver offered me his condolences. More condolences at work. I read every news site I could find, and learned little more than what I got from the Russian news. Four planes. Two towers, the Pentagon, rural Pennsylvania.

I called my brother. Couldn't help it. The secretary here placed the call for me without even asking why I needed to call. My brother is fine, of course. He told me he loves me, and seemed touched I had called, insofar as a little brother is allowed to feel touched. He told me that people of Middle Eastern descent are being told not to go out after dark in Chicago, for fear of harassment. I suggested he shave his beard. I told him I loved him too.

Today I am sad and cold and numb and desperately lonely. If I can't be with family, I wish I was at least in Tashkent, sitting in Dave's apartment, watching the horror on his TV with someone to talk to.

There are so many things to fear now. Terorism, even in the US, where I never had to worry. Discrimination, because I am Muslim and Pakistani and I look it. The decisions Americans wil have to make about civil liberties vs safety. The future.

So that's what I am today. Afraid. And alone.

<<|>>

You might have missed...
I’m not sure my ego has ever cycled as fast as it has lately. - 15 July 2004
shots - 12 July 2004
But that was long ago, and in another country. - 22 June 2004
I was getting bored with linear thought… - 09 June 2004
You told him we slept together before marriage? - 20 May 2004

USAID is one of many donors for the project I work for. The views expressed herein are the author’s own views and do not necessarily reflect those of the author’s employer or especially those of the United States Agency for International Development or the United States Government. And I mean it. I probably give the US government heart attacks.