Nina Patrice Bell was 39 years old. Her mother had given up finding her a groom. Nina was married to her carrier, as a financial accountant working in a high ranking insurance firm. She often took pride in her position, and that pride often took her to positions. She clocked an average of 12 hours a day, most of which was spent in her office desk, with her soul mate, a Compaq of the latest kind. Her office had a beautiful view of New York City. She was important enough to be given the office that had a large viewing window. She worked in the 58th floor, North Tower, World Trade Center, New York.
4.07pm, 9 March 2001.
"A crash course," Mohamed Atta repeated for the third time. The choice of his words were eerily symbolic, not unknown to him. He was a master motivator, and in his words lived most of the professed expertise. The moment deserved a long silence, and that was exactly what it achieved. His brothers stared in unified contemplation, as Atta delivered what was delivered unto him. And when he was done, they hugged. In six months, their knowledge will include piloting. In six months, the gates of Heaven will await them.
Atta resigned to the silence of his chambers. He sat cross-legged in front of some books of his masters. He opened one…
This day we walk along with death and laugh at its pale spectre,
We will not fear those cruel swords, for our courage is far sharper!
Let us wish to be reborn a hundred times,
so that we could give our lives for our motherland, a hundred times over!
Atta closed his eyes. His heart was beating at a normal rate. He was not nervous. He was sure. He was chosen. Chosen by Him.
In the void of his mind, his mother’s words lingered.
Marry a nice Muslim girl, Atta…and give me children, Atta…In my old age, this is all i ask of you. To see the twinkle in their eyes, to live my life amongst the innocence of children, Atta…will you promise me that, my child?
Two days after that, Atta left his home to dedicate his life to Al-Qaeda, and to his religion.
Mother, i know you want me to marry a woman and have a family, like every mother wishes. But i have chosen my bride already. I have to go.
"To be a martyr," his master Al-Zawahiri once proclaimed, "You have to renounce all relationships, sacrifice all belongings…for in the bosom of the martyr is only a seat for the cause. It is not for the weak, the lover, and the giver. A martyr is a messenger. There is none any greater!"
But deep down in Atta’s heart, he longed to be loved and cared for. He missed his mother’s tender voice, and her loving caress. He longed for a woman. He wished he could have found one to hold and call his wife. Now it was too late. Atta dozed off in that thought, and in his dreams he lived the life he sacrificed.
6 months and 2 days later.
Nina rushed to work, with her suitcases for work and baggage for travel balanced on all ten fingers and arms and shoulders. Today was not just another day. She was going to finish work early, pack up and leave to Las Vegas, where Jacques Melchiot was to meet her. For the first time, Nina had agreed to a date, with her long time internet friend, confidante, and recently, romantic interest from France. She would tell her mother about Jacques after the trip. Who knows, things might not end up in her favour, and it would be terrible to put mother through the ups and downs of expectations and disappointments. She would just tell her when she’s sure. When she can hold a man, and call him hers till death do them apart.
Mohamed Atta and his four brothers waited patiently. They were seated together, each one holding their red strips of cloth. Atta closed his eyes, and recited a prayer.
7.56am, September 11, 2001.
It was time. Atta motioned his brothers to take their positions. Each man covered strategic locations in the American Airlines Flight 11. At the signal from Atta, they wore their red strips around their foreheads. The sign of a man ready for war. The colour of blood that he has willed to shed. The mark of a martyr. It was time.
Nina placed her travel bags at one corner and went to her window. She flung open the curtains, inviting in the beautiful scenery and the warm sunshine. It’s a beautiful day. "And it can only get better,” she thought to herself smiling and sat down at her desk, her thoughts traveling to Las Vegas, France, the moon and back. Finally, a man to hold, and call her own, till death do them apart.
8.15am.
It took Atta and his brother less than half an hour to gain control of the airplane. Thanks to the All-merciful, they only had to spare one life; that of the co-pilot. It would not matter in moments to come. They are all destined for greatness, their names remembered forever. Mohamed Atta, the pilot commander, assured his brothers not to panic, for the plane and their souls were headed for its destination. The destined destination. He had to make his brothers realize the courage and valour of their actions. He had to give his speech. He took a moment, and some motivation from the book he read last.
“This day, my brothers, we walk along with death and laugh at its pale spectre,
we will not fear those cruel swords, for our courage is far sharper.
Mistake not our silence for submission, for beneath lies our fire, molten.
O martyrs, O men of valour, one day the enemy will sing your praises,
we will show our mettle when the moment of truth arrives,
for courage lives in deeds, not boastful lies.
We have gathered in the enemy’s lair, my friends,
in the hope of dying for our motherland."
WE WILL NOT FEAR THOSE CRUEL SWORDS, OUR COURAGE IS FAR SHARPER!
THIS DAY WE WALK ALONG WITH DEATH, AND LAUGH AT ITS PALE SPECTRE!!
LET US WISH TO BE REBORN A HUNDRED TIMES OVER,
SO THAT WE COULD GIVE OUR LIVES FOR OUR MOTHERLAND, A HUNDRED TIMES OVER!!!
The five men repeated the last lines in unison, aloud, creating an aura of powerful energy around them. It worked.There was a burning fire in them, it showed in the souls of their eyes, Atta’s speech once again proving to be the catalyst.
The World Trade Center was visible now. Time was not much left. Not much was left of anything. But their people had much to look forward to. There was hope for their people. Atta and his brothers were the hope. And hope is a very motivating factor. Atta steered the airplane towards the huge north tower building. His other brothers will hit the South Tower, the Pentagon, and the White House. Insyallah they would succeed.
Atta knew his life was going to end. He was proud to be amongst such brave men. Like every man before his death, Atta relived his life in his thoughts…his poor and neglected childhood, adolescence filled with cries of injustice and dishonour, his march into adulthood, and his life as an Al-Qaeda soldier. But all Mohamed Atta could really think about was the missing love and care. Atta wished in some space in some time of his life he had a woman to love. A woman to hold and call his own, till death do them apart.
8.40am.
Nina finished off her last pile of documents to complete. Her work for the day was over, and she delighted yet again in the thought of meeting her Jacques. My own man, to hold and call my own, till death.
She stood up, taking the finished papers to the filing cabinet, by her large window. And then she saw it. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
8.45am, 11 September 2001.
"Allahuakhbar!!!! allahuakhbar!!!" Mohamed Atta and his four brave men screamed at the top of their lungs. Death was near, liberation was near, the Heavens are here!
As the American Airlines Flight 11 slammed into the middle of the North Tower of the World Trade Center, two bodies met in a split second, still alive and breathing. WIth a violent impact, being thrown about freely, Mohamed Atta grabbed the nearest and closest thing to keep his body steady. Nina, who a second ago was going about her daily routine was too scared, and flung out her hands to hold onto something. And in that split second, Atta held a woman, and Nina held a man. And she was his own, and he was her own. Till death did them apart.
