Terror in Ouagadougou

Eighteen hours ago, as I was crossing the Atlantic en route to Burkina Faso, Al Qaeda terrorists were storming the Splendid Hotel in the main business district of Burkina’s capital, Ouagadougou. The terrorists entered the hotel, and immediately opened fire. Within the first several hours, more than twenty were dead. 176 hostages. French troops stormed the hotel.

At that very same moment, I was partway through my 8 hour flight to Brussels, from where I would connect to Ouagadougou. I was, ironically enough, watching the documentary, “I am Malala.”

I don’t know if this happens to others, but for some reason I am incredibly prone to crying on airplanes. Maybe it’s the isolation of sitting in a big metal box, catapulting over the vast nothingness, far away from everything and everyone you love. Anyway, “Malala” stirred bitter tears, mostly of thankfulness for not having to live in the world of terror that had almost engulfed the young heroine.

Hours later, I landed in Brussels and turned on my phone. Immediately, it was flooded with panicked messages from family, and this message from my boss:

Burkina Terrorist Attack - Do Not Connect in Brussels to Ouagadougou

In the ensuing hours, my colleagues and I scrambled to rebook our trip, and reroute back to the safety of the United States. I contacted my Embassy colleague in Ouagadougou, whom I was supposed to be meeting two days later:

“Ouaga Attacks – Are you OK?”

I explained that unfortunately, naturally, cowardly, we would not be coming. His reply:

“We can certainly reschedule. I'd apologize for it not working out but I think that should be reserved for the terrorists that did this.”

To my knowledge – after having scoured Embassy security briefings, French newspapers, and having queried colleagues who work there regularly – Burkina Faso is neither a haven for terrorists, nor a traditional attack point. Unlike Mali, where a similar attack occurred just last month, Burkina Faso does not have a history of radical Islamist violence. I do not know why a business hotel in Ouaga2000, next to the hotel I was set to stay in the very next night, was targeted.

Hours later, on a hastily booked return flight to Washington, I set up to write this post. My laptop auto-retrieved the last thing I had written, while watching “Malala”, in the red eye haze before the Ouagadougou Mission was aborted:

==

I am thankful for my education.

I am thankful that here, I am not persecuted for my ethnicity, nor for my religion, nor for my gender.

I am thankful that I have never known hunger.

I am thankful that I have never had sex against my will.

I am thankful that I do not feel afraid.

I am thankful for my husband, who is kind, who respects me, and who treats me as his equal.

I am thankful that in this time and place, most of my dreams can truly be achieved with nothing more than determination, hard work, and a little bit of luck.

I am thankful that I get paid to help others, in different times and places, secure their basic human rights. I hope that one day my job will be obsolete.

I am thankful for my family, who gave me this.

I am thankful that I can speak.