When they first reported that a plane had hit the building, I thought maybe the pilot had had a heart attack, or that someone who had lost a bundle when the tech bubble burst had decided to commit suicide and take out a few people with him. When the second plane hit, I realized that something unbelievably horrible was happening. I stayed glued to the television all morning. As I watched events unfold, I slowly went numb, overwhelmed by all I was seeing, as well as concern for my colleagues (one person was killed) and a friend who worked across the street (she was fine, though her asthma is terrible now).

That traffic reporter may have saved me from severe injury, or worse. If I hadn’t heard his report, I probably would have made it downtown just in time for all hell to break loose (and I mean that literally).

Whether the weapon of war is an airplane or the restriction of access to food, man was responsible for creating both of these disastrous events. The 9/11 attacks resulted in 2,977 victims. In the famine affected areas of Somalia, current estimates are that “tens of thousands” of people have already died and 750 thousand more are at risk over the next 4 months because militant extremists are blocking relief agencies from gaining access to those in need.

Having grown up in New York, the events of 9/11 affected me in an extremely personal way. But while the 9/11 attack was on U.S. soil, 372 (12%) of the victims were foreign nationals representing 90 different countries. 9/11 was more than an attack on the United States – it was an assault on human rights, free speech, religious tolerance, and cultural pluralism, all fundamental principles shared by people worldwide. The warrior in us wants to seek retribution and bring those responsible for these violations to justice. But as a physician, my instinct is to heal, and my way of responding to these events is to help those injured and traumatized.

In eastern Kenya I have been driving down countless miles of winding dirt roads surrounded by a desolate and arid African landscape, spotted with stick and dry grass huts. Although I feel a million miles away from New York physically, in ways I feel more connected than ever to the events of 9/11 and what I experienced there. I’m reminded of the friends I lost on the New York Search and Rescue team when the twin towers collapsed while they were attempting to evacuate the buildings. I remember the emotional burden of helping the New York fire fighters extricate their fallen colleagues from the wreckage. At the end of each day of exhausting work, we drove away from ground zero along the West Side Highway and were greeted by crowds of New Yorkers cheering and holding banners of appreciation (we felt like we hardly deserved anything, as we found no one alive). The pleading “missing person” flyers that were posted at Union Square and other subway stations by those still holding out hope for unaccounted loved ones were sad individually, but devastating cumulatively. The crayon-colored cards of sympathy and support from school children displayed at every firehouse were a sad reminder of the innocence that was lost that day.

9/11 was a defining moment in my life. It made me realize my greatest sense of purpose: to stand for those who cannot stand for themselves. In the aftermath of 9/11, as I processed what had happened, it became clear that this need was not only necessary in crisis moments such as disasters, but also in everyday life. We all have a responsibility to stand up for people and principles in our personal and professional lives, in small or large ways, every day. The U.S. government’s “war on terror” developed a broader meaning to me: a struggle against oppression and injustice in all its forms.

Working now for famine relief in East Africa is not only an opportunity to help those acutely in need, but also a way to honor those we lost and those who suffered on and after 9/11. Most mornings these days I wake up with two recurring themes in my head, elegantly put into words by others. The first was spoken by Nelson Mandela on his 80th birthday: “As long as people are oppressed, our work is not done.” The second was spoken by Mother Teresa: “If we have not peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong together.”

-Hernando Garzon, MD ’84

* During 9/11 Dr. Garzon served as the Medical Unit Leader for the FEMA Incident Support Team for all 1400 federal Urban Search and Rescue workers at the World Trade Centers in New York City. In east Africa he is working with Relief International doing medical needs assessments that will lead to establishing nutrition and health programs in the drought affected areas.