The fateful day

Tuesday, 11 September 2001. Afternoon was warm and sunny. I was then at the beginning of my second year in middle school. Classes finished at 14:25 and some 10 minutes later I was home. My father was on holiday and watched the newly launched first Polish news channel - TVN24. A few minutes past 3 p.m. TV showed a burning WTC tower, then it broadcast live the moment another plane hit the other tower. We thought this was a quite interesting catastrophic film, but couldn't make out why it was broadcast by TVN24.

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction...

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3,133 days later...

My head felt heavy for the third day in row. I somehow felt tired after Easter break filled with job-looking-related tasks. Maybe I had slept for too long, maybe too short. I could just mope around the house, do the toiletry, clean my room. I turned the computer on, left a comment on another blog, then turned the computer off.

My mother and I talked for a while about the work/school - life balance. I think the conclusion wasn't reached, because I set about filling in another job application, that time for an internship in a treasury department at the state-controlled bank. I asked myself whether I really wanted to work there. On second thoughts I decided to give it a try. OK, name, surname, address, history of education.

My radioclock was on, tuned to RMF FM. At 09:26 the boring routine of entering personal data was interrupted by a terse news item that a Polish plane had had problems approchaing the runway in Smolensk. I stopped for a while, reluctant to carry on. "President would be walking on crutches", I thought.

There are things that go far beyond comprehension. Planes crash rarely, planes carrying important politicians don't crash in civilised countries. It can happen to a dictator reigning an African country. Some people can be injured, nobody surely died. Such a huge tragedy seemed unbelievable.

TV was on. The chaos was indeed hard to describe. As it now turns out, first, unofficial news about the disaster were in newsrooms just after 9:00, everyone was waiting to confirm it... TV stations were showing either news programmes informing about the tragedy or broadcast commemoration ceremonies in Katyn.

The first person I called was my close friend who repeatedly wished death on president Kaczynski. I felt odly curious to see his reaction. His flatmate picked up the phone, I asked if I could talk to my friend. I asked if he already knew, he said he didn't. When I told the president had died I left him speechless for a few seconds. Then he asked if I meant Lech Kaczynski and quickly added this was not a heart attack, but a big disaster in which tens of other people died. He was devastated...

The truth began so sink in and loom much more shocking as the list of passengers was unveiled.

Two questions were in my mind on that day: if the Polish state's continuity procedures would work properly and who the hell had allowed to put so many state officials on board of one plane...

Around quarter to eleven I turned another TV on. A woman in her 50's was shouting: Ruskie na pewno maczały w tym palce, to u nich się stało...

We watched the history in the making...

A year has gone by. Lives have gone on. People looked for jobs and some found them, films were shot, suburbs were flooded, presidential election was held, computers crashed, people rowed over politics and contemplated the eternal, crosses were put up and removed, money was lent to gamblers, but discussions on the causes of the Smolensk disaster never ceased, questions remain unanswered, Poles remain divided, MA theses were written, carrers started, natural disasters hit innocent people out of the blue, financial markets remained ruthless, pension system in Poland was reformed. Business as usual...

Rememberance should be fostered, but... business as usual...?