Article
on the page is a contribution by Yemi
Ogunshola in a past issue of Good Times
International magazine. The realities there-in
are as apt today as they were when written.
New
York: The
Sorrow and September Swing
- Yemi Ogunshola
Healing
the Big Scar
The
reality of New York always hits the new arrival
as a shock!
It's a dollar for a single ride by subway anywhere
downtown. Alighting in Manhattan from air-conditioned
coaches, it's just a swipe through the barrier
before walking past a lone flautist or guitarist,
perhaps dropping a coin in the collecting-box,
before stepping up the short concrete stairway
and out of the subway station to 42nd Street.
Looking
around, one could almost whistle with relief.
Life has almost returned to normal on New York's
streets.
42nd Street is open to brisk business, with malls,
enticing shop-windows and fast food joints. The
cars seem bigger than usual: an American thing.
Even the effigies of Hollywood movie stars displayed
outside Madame Tussaud's look larger than life.
Women squeal as they squeeze the immobile male
stars on the behind. The stars inside look too
real to be true. J-Lo even blushes now and then.
Everywhere you look the people are warm, but it
also feels strangely tense. The cops from NYPD
seem alert, so alert they appear nervous as you
approach them to ask directions. They stiffen,
but once pleasantries have been exchanged, they
relax. With millions of New Yorkers and tourists
thronging the streets each day, they can never
be completely at ease.
New York is like a holy ground to which pilgrims
are constantly drawn. They are on the move all
night long, from Broadway and 44th Street to Macy's,
Madison Square Garden and the Empire State Building;
they drive past Union Square Shopping District,
Greenwich Village, Soho, Chinatown, Little Italy,
City Hall and Brooklyn Bridge, Lower East Side,
the United Nations Building, Waldorf-Astoria,
Rockefeller Center…
They say that Hollywood is like a giant cash machine.
New York appears to sit on the cash itself. Home
of big business, the theater and publishing, it
is also the home of the famed Lady Liberty.
On Ellis Island, Miss Liberty never sleeps. The
statue is like an angel constantly watching over
the city. But she was no protection when terrorists
attacked on that sunlit September morning three
years ago.
For a trip to Liberty Statue, from Ellis Island
Ferry, the queue is always long. At the dock passengers
await their turn to be frisked by the security
staff before walking through a metal detector.
Then comes the ride on the big ferry. It is easy
to imagine how immigrants, many decades ago, felt
asthey arrived in 'God's own country'. The Irish,
English, French, Italians and others must have
looked in awe at the statue. After 9/11 only the
statue grounds stayed open to the public. It wasn't
until August this year (2004) that it was re-opened,
allowing visitors to explore the inner core.
A drive around New York City is always a heady
experience. From the Bronx to Brooklyn or Manhattan
to Queen's, life is as vibrant as ever. This is
where old-style mobsters indulged in their wheeling
and dealing, gaming and gambling and, during the
Prohibition, kept up the flow of illicit liquor
supplies. Today mobs still rule the streets. They
deal openly, take protection payouts, control
the call girls and gambling. But they are, relatively,
the little fry, for the true big money players
are not on the streets but in the skyscrapers.
Masters of high-tech and blue chip companies,
they deal more subtly. Like master chess players,
they hold the ultimate checkmate: the power of
the dollar bill.
Flags are everywhere in New York. The Star-Spangled
Banner flutters in the breeze, as if to remind
New Yorkers of their invincibility. But there
is a paradoxical lethargy about the place as well.
These are people still struggling with a three-year
pain and bizarre experiences that defy belief.
The sense of sorrow is profound, unfitting for
friendly folks who now struggle with the ghosts
of that tragic September day.Since that day so
much has happened around the globe. A few months
after, the Taliban were pounded to surrender in
Afghanistan. Aided by Great Britain and a few
other allies, America still struggles on in Iraq.
Around the world, the terror has not let up. In
March 2004 a devastating explosion rocked a train
in Spain, killing many. The death toll extended
to women and pupils in a Beslan school (Russia)
this September. Then came the Jakarta bombing
outside the Australian Embassy. The horrific list
rolls on.
Time rolls on, too, on the New York streets. The
city still retains its charm as a center of world
commerce. Nothing ever seems to kill its spirit.
It was on these same streets as the original capital
of the USA that George Washington took oath as
the first President in1789. From that time, the
city was always described as having a vibrant
feel. Despite September 11, from Times Square
to Chinatown, from Brooklyn to the Bronx, nightlife
continues with a measured swing.
Even Ground Zero has its swing. Ice cream and
soda vendors ply their trade to tourists. The
hallowed grounds are up for brisk business. Touts
go to work, cajoling, displaying for sale pictures
of the struck building, the inferno, and the collapsed
twin towers. They sell pictures of firemen of
the NYFD and of the public and cops running for
their lives. When a police van arrives the touts
scamper, barely able to gather their wares, as
if running for dear life as well. In a second
no tout remains in sight.
Everyone milks a little from the New York swing.
The Republican Party was not deterred by large
demonstrations from holding its convention at
Madison Square Gardens in September, 2004. In
New York the swing is ever present.
But how does the city now cope in serious emergencies?
The
Day America Froze
On
Thursday, 14th August my trip for 2003 was over
and it was time to leave. I had to catch a flight
from JFK for Heathrow that day. Then pandemonium!
Suddenly the phones wouldn't work. Neither would
elevators, electrical gadgets, or pre-booked cabs.
An eerie silence descended upon New York City.
It was, the word came though, a power outage.
Not for several years had that happened. Somehow
I got a cab driver ‘crazy’ enough
to brave the dead traffic lights; but not before
he'd charged me triple the normal fare, of course.
Without lights, a city becomes like a blind and
helpless invalid. The drive to JFK resembled an
action movie as vehicles struggled to avoid collision.
At the airport, no planes could fly. In other
parts of the city millions of people were trapped
in trains, subway coaches, buildings and on the
streets. Unlike the outage incidents of the past,
however, looting, mugging and attacks were almost
non-existent. Emergency services took control.
At JFK the rumours did the rounds. “It was
Al Queda, surely…?” “It was
another attack on New York…”
The Airport Authority's attempt in the confusion
to evacuate the airport only resulted in resistance
and near-riot by the passengers. In the end the
authorities gave up. One after the other, the
staff disappeared. The poor spirit at the departure
hall soon picked up, however. The meager foods
for sale were consumed. At midnight, a touring
youth ensemble played music as people clapped
in the dark to flutes and other wind instruments.
People made new friends, an exchange of international
friendships. But soon events took their toll.
Exhausted, people lay down to sleep on the bare
floor.
I
wasn't until late afternoon on the following day
that our plane finally left New York, after several
extra checks. Up there in the skies, the enigma
of New York slowly evaporated. As the plane touched
down at London Heathrow early on Saturday morning,
a loud cheer erupted from the visibly traumatized
passengers.
Now,
another 11th day has come again in September.
In 2004, various solemn activities took place
to coincide with that morning, years ago at 0846
hours, when the first plane struck the twin towers.
On the Sunday, memorial services were widely held,
even as US Defense Secretary Rumsfeld addressed
the National Press Club in Washington, DC.
In
New York City, life moves on. The days roll by
and people of the world swarm like pilgrims there
each day in homage. They particularly swarm to
Lady Liberty, irrestistibly drawn by her ageless
grace.
In
2004, as the war rages on in Iraq and while the
world struggles each day with terror's Pandora
box, Lady Liberty stands as an unchanging symbol
of continuity. She stands as if on guard each
day. And at dusk or nightfall, she stands like
a lone mother who seeks to protect her vulnerable
children until another morning.
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