I went to my office in Amman, Jordan, around 10 a.m. the day after the bombings. The Radisson SAS is around the corner, and the Hyatt maybe a quarter-mile away.
I had a steady stream of people stop by my office to make sure I was OK – even though they knew I had moved to an apartment and no longer lived in the area.
I was overwhelmed by their expressions of concern. Although the attacks were in hotels that cater to “Western” guests, the people who suffered were, for the most part, hardworking, unassuming Jordanians. There was a genuine concern for my well-being, including gifts of food and sweets.
I was invited to lunch that day by Marwan, the owner of Engicon, the company I worked for.
We went to a lovely Lebanese restaurant, and Marwan started by ordering arak, a potent liqueur. He toasted to Jordan, to its strength, resiliency and to the honor of not succumbing to acts of terror.
All day we were hearing the same message – “Jordan First!” – and cries that al-Qaeda leader Abu Musab al-Zarqawi was a coward and no friend of Islam. We saw people outfitting their cars with the Jordanian flag and pictures of the king. There were marches and demonstrations of solidarity against terrorism.
That night, I was invited to dinner by a Swedish couple. Originally, we had plans to go to a pub but decided to dine at their house instead.
As I walked to their place, I was dismayed to find the area all but deserted. Granted, 6:30 p.m. is a bit early, but usually you see entire families strolling through the streets after the evening prayer and before settling in for a late-evening meal, or small groups of young people having tea and smoking.
It’s usually such a vibrant, bustling area, and I was sad until I realized that I was headed for a quiet evening of reflection with friends.
It was comforting to be together to discuss what happened and what it meant to us, as expats, living in and enjoying Jordan and its people.
The common thread was an expression of dismay that we’d have to start all over encouraging our loved ones that Jordan is a safe and welcoming place.
The next day, I went with friends to an outdoor market and then an early afternoon tea. On the way, we saw all kinds of people going to the markets downtown, which was a welcome return to normal.
The one difference was the proliferation of Jordan flags, flying from windows and antennas of cars and also present in the windows of almost every business and home.
On the way out the door that morning, the weekly advertising circular featured a “Jordan First” bracelet, black with Arabic lettering. I already had one and put it on, then asked the first shopkeeper I saw if I could have a couple more.
He had to scramble around a bit, but gave me two. I’ve since asked elsewhere, and they’re such a hot commodity that you can’t even purchase them.
In addition, many young women donned red and white scarves. A Jordanian friend said this was highly unusual, because women don’t customarily make outward statements like that.
There were more marches all over the city that day, including in Abdoun, a real ritzy part of town known more for its imposing villas and embassies than anything else.
Work that day was difficult, as the identities of the dead and injured became known. Jordan is the size of Indiana, and everyone seems to know everyone else. As a result, I have yet to talk to a co-worker who didn’t know someone involved.
The heartbreak and shock these people are going through are all too familiar, and indeed are being referred to here as “our 9/11.”
I decided to walk home from work that day as my own, private show of solidarity, that I’m not afraid to walk in the streets of Amman. The city relies so much on tourism, and it will be such a shame if people choose to stay away because of this unprecedented act of terror.
I don’t feel any less safe. The concern I have now is for the Jordanians, and how awful this is for their country and their people. The positive thing is their response – they won’t be cowed. They are a proud people, and for good reason.
Everything I have seen in these few days has just strengthened how much I love this place.
McLaren Brennan of Denver was in Amman, Jordan, when terrorists exploded bombs at three hotels, killing 59 people. She works for Engicon, an engineering and construction management firm. This is an edited version of an e-mail she sent to friends.
