Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • It was early in my third year in South Africa. Kids and teachers had just settled into the year. It was warm for September. Warm and dusty and quiet with the kids gone for the day except for the few staying on for after school activities. Little is as quiet as a school after hours.

    Walking down the covered passageway someone said a plane had hit a building in New York. It sounded a bit wild and improbable and we heard all kinds of stories about wild events just around the corner, hijackings and roberies and wild west shoot outs at the malls.

    I shrugged and kept on going. We didn't have a lot of tech in the school, the connectivity was iffy at best.

    A little later someone else had a bit more information, still sketchy but enough to make us all uneasy. Something was going on out there. Something big enough that trickles were reaching all the way to the top of a ridge above Johannesburg in South Africa, something from home wasn't right. I thought of my sister and brother who were in Manhatten.

    Wonder turned to anxiety and we hustled home.

    Turned on CNN
    and there it was
    the one tower burning
    and just then the second plane hit
    again and again and again
    the news in an endless loop reinforcing the unreality of it all

    Except I knew Kat was there and Jeff and Stephen
    somewhere in that pall of smoke and strained faces and horror
    people I knew

    The school argued about whether to stay in session or cancel. We ended up opening. Some people from the US Embassy refused to come in. Fear sifted in through every chink and crack.

    What I remember most from those days is how when I walked through the malls and people heard my accent, all of them; car guards, security guards, bank tellers, waitrons, managers, just random shoppers in the malls. They all stopped and said how sorry they were, how terrible it was.

    i felt a great connection between us all, a sense of humanity united agianst a common and terrible foe.

    And now what I think about most is how that moment, paid for at such a price, that precious moment of connection and solidarity, was squandered.

    Squandered by politicians and need to avenge.
    Squandered by the drum beat of war.
    Squandered by the hatred for others that flooded in on the wings of fear.
    If we could have turned the focus to the other side.
    If we could have focused on humanity
    Not created demons, wizards and warlocks.
    We might have not lost the world.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.