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Experiencing attacks half a world away
Even if Sept. 11 was not just around the calendar corner, the references to the 2001 terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington, D.C., would be all over the news media this week.
As the nation comes to grips with the tragedy that is New Orleans and the Gulf Coast in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, we keep hearing words to the effect that this is the worst disaster since Sept. 11, or that the emergency response challenge is the greatest since that sad day four years ago.
For most of us, our Sept. 11 memories revolve around images of smoke and flames set against a bright blue sky. We were at work, getting started on what we thought would be an ordinary Tuesday, when we heard the news.
But for Sammy Politziner, those terrible times were mirrored not in the eyes of his family or co-workers but in those of people he had just met – the inhabitants of the Hunza Valley in the foothills of the Himalayas – in Pakistan.
Cafe readers have heard of Sammy before; he married former Herald reporter/feature writer Carey King in Sylva two months ago. The two are in New York City now, where Sammy, who grew up in Princeton, N.J., will experience his first Sept. 11 anniversary in Manhattan.
Sammy’s journey began in August 2001 when he and two friends decided to travel overland from Beijing, China, to Jerusalem. They expected the trip to last about five months, and it did. Their planned route changed, however, as a result of events that unfolded half a world away.
After flying into Beijing and spending about five weeks crossing China, they set off on the Karakorum Highway, a road through the world’s tallest mountains that was built in the early 1980s. Many consider it to be the most beautiful road in the world, and Sammy, despite his fondness for our own Blue Ridge Parkway, counts himself among that number.
“You can be in 25,000-foot mountains, but it’s like rolling hills because you’re on the Asian plateau,” he said. “Immediately after one pass, the mountains change so abruptly that you can see it. The mountains become jagged, with deep ravines, and you quickly go down to around 6,000 feet.”
The three were hitchhiking and backpacking (there’s no public transportation) and thought they would explore the area for several days or weeks. K-2, the world’s second-tallest peak at 28,250 feet, can be accessed from the road, and Sammy said they were considering a visit to one of its base camps.
It was the afternoon of Sept. 10 when they arrived in the spectacular Hunza Valley, which is thought by many to be the model for Shangri-La – the utopia described by James Hilton in “The Lost Horizon.”
“People are healthy and live to be 120-130 years old. They’re very friendly – very giving and kind,” Sammy said in describing the valley. “And it’s very isolated, because the highway’s been there less than a generation. People as close as 40 miles away have never seen each other and speak different languages.”
Sammy and his friends woke on Sept. 11 in the most serene, peaceful place they had ever encountered.
Because Pakistan is 10 hours ahead of U.S. time, it seemed to them a normal day. Sammy spent most of it shopping for a rug – a gift for his parents back in New Jersey.
“Buying a rug there is at least a four-hour process,” he said. “I had to meet the shopkeeper’s family, have tea, hold the baby. Then we discussed things like knots per square inch, but eventually I was able to pick out a very nice rug.”
The next step was to take it to the valley’s version of a post office, which Sammy describes as “a guy’s house” to get a shipping label. Then Sammy took the rug to a tailor, who encased the carpet in a hand-sewn cloth wrapper and stitched the label in place.
“That rug never made it to my parents, though,” Sammy said. “I can just imagine what officials thought when they saw a bulky, cylindrical object sent to the United States on Sept. 11 – from Pakistan.”
By the time Sammy finished the rug-buying and shipping, it was afternoon. After dinner in the two-television town, Sammy, who confesses to a sweet tooth, headed out in search of dessert. But when he passed the rug store, he was summoned inside.
“Sammy, Sammy, you have to see this,” his new friend said. “Something terrible has happened.”
It was a little past 10 a.m. in New York, and the group had picked up a BBC broadcast Both Trade Center towers had been hit, and the first tower had fallen.
“We watched the second tower fall,” Sammy said. “Everyone was mesmerized. It was so eerie. I knew a lot of people who worked in that building, but there was no way to get in touch with my family or anyone else.
“The thing that stands out is that the night was so serene, so gorgeous. The stars were unbelievable, and we could see shooting stars,” he said.
It was that juxtaposition of silence and beauty with the knowledge of the tragedy caused by the attacks that have stuck with Sammy.
“I can still feel it,” he said last week. “I felt totally helpless amidst all that beauty.”
Sammy also remembers the reactions of the valley’s Muslim population, which were not what those of us watching here in Sylva might have expected.
“People there saw it as a human tragedy, and everyone felt it deeply,” he said. “We were the only Americans in the whole region, yet their world had stopped too. People were walking around like zombies. They came up to us and said ‘We’re so sorry, this is so awful. The people who did this should burn in hell.’”
By Sept. 12, their situation had become political rather than emotional, Sammy said.
“We were 40 miles from Afghanistan,” he said. “We had to figure out what to do.”
During the six days it took the travelers to get out of Pakistan, the climate around them changed.
“In the mountains, everyone was generous, friendly and kind. When we got to Rawalpindi (Pakistan), things were different. That’s where some of those images of Muslims celebrating the attacks came from.”
Sammy and his friends were at the American Embassy while it was being pelted with rocks.
“Everything with the word ‘American’ was being taken down or covered up,” he said. “Even the ‘American Express’ sign – someone had covered up ‘American’ so it just said ‘Express.’”
Still, they didn’t hide the fact that they were from America. Though Sammy said he was beginning to hear anti-American thoughts expressed, everyone’s first reaction was always to apologize.
“People were genuine in their sadness and condolences,” he said. “They said ‘We’re sorry. Our prayers are with you.”
The Pakistanis they met were also quick to point out why they thought the attacks on America had happened: Because of the United States’ support for Israel; and because of Kashmir and the belief that the United States supported India over Pakistan in the struggle for control of the divided province.
“We stayed in the Muslim world for four months, and we did not meet one person of that faith who thought Osama bin Laden was responsible for the attacks,” Sammy said. “They all believed it was an Israeli plot. They said Muslims wouldn’t do it. Even very well-educated people thought this.”
Yet no matter where they went in the region, people’s first response to the travelers was always sorrow and condolence, Sammy said.
“Only in the more politicized regions did we encounter negative remarks, but they were always directed toward the American government and not the American people,” he said.
Given the change in political climate, Sammy and his friends decided to skip Afghanistan and Iran and spent a couple of months in India before flying on to Tel Aviv and Jordan.
“I was 24 years old, and that was the first moment when politics really affected me,” Sammy said. “We live such comfortable lives in America that it was the first time something outside my life changed things in a tangible way.”
When asked what he remembers most after four years, Sammy didn’t hesitate.
“The knowledge that the world had changed,” he said. “We were looking at the mountains, and we knew bin Laden was very near. If there had been a road, he would have been an hour away. He was so close, yet so far; it was so quiet and serene, yet New York was burning; we felt so safe, but we knew everyone was worried about us. It was a night of extremes.”
Recalling our Sept. 11 experience in The Herald newsroom, I knew exactly what he meant. That ominous feeling of change was all around us, infusing a perfect early fall day with shadows, and despite the presence of co-workers and family members, we all felt isolated and afraid.
Sammy’s story serves as a lesson, too. It reminds us that individuals the world over almost always respond with empathy and kindness when confronted with tragedy.
And, just as the world overflowed with concern in the wake of the terrorist attacks, so now is a tide of generosity streaming south toward the Gulf Coast – and the victims of another September disaster.
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