Tuesday, January 20, 2009, Residence Inn Marriott, Pentagon City, outside Washington, DC, 10: 56 p.m.
It is over now, and tomorrow morning we fly back to Toronto. The inauguration of the 44th president of the United States of America at noon today was a historic moment, not because just because a black man assumed the leader of the most powerful nation o
It is over now, and tomorrow morning we fly back to Toronto. The inauguration of the 44th president of the United States of America at noon today was a historic moment, not because just because a black man assumed the leader of the most powerful nation on earth, but because the occasion truly raised the possibility of a common human heritage, free of racism and discrimination. That was very much evident in the National Mall behind Capitol Hill as hundreds of thousand waited in sub-zero temperature to witness the occasion. Strangers hugged each other, gave each other food, warmed each other’s hands, and stood shoulder to shoulder. There were not blacks, whites, Latinos, Indians, Japanese, Africans and whatever else exist, just people standing there under the clear blue sky, all waiting, hoping and dreaming together. It was simply beautiful.
Though my alarm was set for four o’clock in the morning to get started early to go to Capitol Hill, I woke up just before three in the morning, and could not go back to sleep. In the darkness so as not to wake up my sleeping family, I cleaned up, dressed in a layer of warm clothes, grabbed my camera and my invitation ticket and slipped out at around half-past three. It was still dark outside, but there were already a number of people on their way to the event.
I met a group from Delaware—vice president Joe Biden’s state—who embraced as one of their own and, together, walked to the subway. There was a line formed at the subway, many people carrying American flags. By the time the subway opened at four in the morning, the human wave was crushing. Indeed, the first trained was so crammed it was reminiscent of the scene you see in developing countries where bodies piled into trains. We got on the Blue line to Federal Center, which would put us at the entrance for the holders of silver tickets.
However, the sheer number of people already waiting to leave the underground was frightening. There was a moment of panic thinking how just a small incident could start a stampede resulting in hundreds being crushed to death. A young woman ahead shook violently out of exhaustion standing in the suffocating atmosphere waiting to be let out.
When we got out, the security was unbelievably tight, police with dogs, some with M16 rifles were everywhere. Though it was nauseatingly hot inside the subway, now the reverse was true as the cold began to bite. My body was wrapped in a warm swath and I had very warm mitts which are better than gloves in cold weather because they retain heat. My problem was that my toes were frozen to the point that I could not feel them.
We waited in line for the next four hours from half-past four until eight thirty in the morning. At that point the TSA (the folks who screened you at the airport) began to allow us to walk into the screening area. Everyone going through the area was screened, bags emptied and bodies patted down just in case they hid weapons.
We then rushed forward to the area designated for standing room only. It was at least three hundred meters from the podium where Obama would be sworn in. By this time the feet were tired and the cold so overwhelming for those not dressed for the weather—those from warm states like Florida, southern California and Arizona seemed the most ill-dressed, not being used to the blistering cold of eastern United States. The sky was clear, and this added to the cold wind.
But this was when the kindness of strangers was very much evident; the sharing was non-stop as people reached out to each other with warmth and comfort. I was flanked by a teacher from Virginia and her niece from Massachusetts where she studying mechanical electrical engineering at Harvard University. They kept me company until a sudden rush forward separated us. Then I was adopted by a group from California who fed me cashew nuts as we waited for Obama to come.
Four more hours would pass before the actual ceremony began. By now, there were easily a million people behind us in the National Mall. All you could see was a sea of heads bobbing up and down. People sang, they clapped, they hollered for Obama, and they comforted each other in the cold.
When the dignitaries arrived and were flashed on the giant screens erected for the occasion, people cheered loudly—you could hear a thunder like roll as the deep rumbling travelled to the back. They cheered former president Jimmy Carter. President George Bush Sr. also received a polite applause. Joe Lieberman who jumped ship to support Obama’s rival, John McCain only to return when Obama won was loudly booed—a million boos is very loud and personal. Bill and Hillary Clinton got thunderous applause. Joe Biden got a big applause. Outgoing president George Bush was booed but there were also smattering of applause. Obama got the rapturous applause.
When the swearing-in finally arrived shortly after midday, it was anti-climatic, it was as if something else needed to be said, done or even delayed, but the ceremony was truly over. Barack Hussein Obama had just become the 44th president of the United States of America. There was an uncertain applause, many people not knowing whether they could finally cheer or were supposed to wait.
Obama’s speech followed, and although this was an occasion that demanded words flying like the sea-gulls that hovered over the crowd, he chose flat and serious words to convey what he felt needed to be said to prepare the American people and the world for his administration. It was like the CEO of the largest corporation speaking at the annual shareholder’s meeting to report on the health of the corporation and what needed to be done to bring about profitability. Obama was quick to let it be known that there was a lot of work that needed to be done to restore America’s lofty place as a world leader.
Then it was over—just like that, and people began to work their way toward whatever transportation would take them back home. Trying to walk with a million people moving all at once is the most distressing feeling I have encountered. Every possible direction was blocked by human bodies—forward, backward, sideways—it did not matter. You were essentially trapped.
But thanks to my Scout training, I had carried a map of Washington, DC, which I unfurled, took stock of my location and struck out into the direction that I believed would take me across the bridge, out of Washington, DC to Arlington, Virginia, at Pentagon City. It was a six to seven kilometer hike which for a man who runs a marathon was nothing. I walked away, keeping focused, until I ran across Sheila and Lindsay—two young women going to Pentagon City. Sheila works for the Senate on Capitol Hill, and Lindsay works for the Treasury Department. Both knew my hotel well and told me it was on their way home. They would walk me there.
As we walked, we talked about the significance of the day. I told them that I thought that the day was a good one for race relations in America, that it allowed African Americans to finally feel that they belong to a nation that never fully embraced them, yet expected much of them. The day meant that they could no longer feel unable or incapable of achieving because there were road-blocks, and while those barriers would take a while to disappear, the psychological chain had been broken by Obama.
Sheila thought that the day allowed whites to finally feel a kinship that they never really felt with African Americans because there was always the fear of being rejected by blacks as patronizing and condescending. As a young white woman, she felt that her country was on the right track, and that she would not have missed the day for anything.
Lindsay said she felt Obama spoke for everyone, blacks and white, in a language that everyone understood, and that she felt privileged as a white woman to be able to live in an America run by an African American.
We stopped talking as we finally arrived at my hotel. I bade the two good bye. It was the end of a day in history, a momentous day not to be forgotten soon.
Opiyo.oloya@sympatico.ca
Though my alarm was set for four o’clock in the morning to get started early to go to Capitol Hill, I woke up just before three in the morning, and could not go back to sleep. In the darkness so as not to wake up my sleeping family, I cleaned up, dressed in a layer of warm clothes, grabbed my camera and my invitation ticket and slipped out at around half-past three. It was still dark outside, but there were already a number of people on their way to the event.
I met a group from Delaware—vice president Joe Biden’s state—who embraced as one of their own and, together, walked to the subway. There was a line formed at the subway, many people carrying American flags. By the time the subway opened at four in the morning, the human wave was crushing. Indeed, the first trained was so crammed it was reminiscent of the scene you see in developing countries where bodies piled into trains. We got on the Blue line to Federal Center, which would put us at the entrance for the holders of silver tickets.
However, the sheer number of people already waiting to leave the underground was frightening. There was a moment of panic thinking how just a small incident could start a stampede resulting in hundreds being crushed to death. A young woman ahead shook violently out of exhaustion standing in the suffocating atmosphere waiting to be let out.
When we got out, the security was unbelievably tight, police with dogs, some with M16 rifles were everywhere. Though it was nauseatingly hot inside the subway, now the reverse was true as the cold began to bite. My body was wrapped in a warm swath and I had very warm mitts which are better than gloves in cold weather because they retain heat. My problem was that my toes were frozen to the point that I could not feel them.
We waited in line for the next four hours from half-past four until eight thirty in the morning. At that point the TSA (the folks who screened you at the airport) began to allow us to walk into the screening area. Everyone going through the area was screened, bags emptied and bodies patted down just in case they hid weapons.
We then rushed forward to the area designated for standing room only. It was at least three hundred meters from the podium where Obama would be sworn in. By this time the feet were tired and the cold so overwhelming for those not dressed for the weather—those from warm states like Florida, southern California and Arizona seemed the most ill-dressed, not being used to the blistering cold of eastern United States. The sky was clear, and this added to the cold wind.
But this was when the kindness of strangers was very much evident; the sharing was non-stop as people reached out to each other with warmth and comfort. I was flanked by a teacher from Virginia and her niece from Massachusetts where she studying mechanical electrical engineering at Harvard University. They kept me company until a sudden rush forward separated us. Then I was adopted by a group from California who fed me cashew nuts as we waited for Obama to come.
Four more hours would pass before the actual ceremony began. By now, there were easily a million people behind us in the National Mall. All you could see was a sea of heads bobbing up and down. People sang, they clapped, they hollered for Obama, and they comforted each other in the cold.
When the dignitaries arrived and were flashed on the giant screens erected for the occasion, people cheered loudly—you could hear a thunder like roll as the deep rumbling travelled to the back. They cheered former president Jimmy Carter. President George Bush Sr. also received a polite applause. Joe Lieberman who jumped ship to support Obama’s rival, John McCain only to return when Obama won was loudly booed—a million boos is very loud and personal. Bill and Hillary Clinton got thunderous applause. Joe Biden got a big applause. Outgoing president George Bush was booed but there were also smattering of applause. Obama got the rapturous applause.
When the swearing-in finally arrived shortly after midday, it was anti-climatic, it was as if something else needed to be said, done or even delayed, but the ceremony was truly over. Barack Hussein Obama had just become the 44th president of the United States of America. There was an uncertain applause, many people not knowing whether they could finally cheer or were supposed to wait.
Obama’s speech followed, and although this was an occasion that demanded words flying like the sea-gulls that hovered over the crowd, he chose flat and serious words to convey what he felt needed to be said to prepare the American people and the world for his administration. It was like the CEO of the largest corporation speaking at the annual shareholder’s meeting to report on the health of the corporation and what needed to be done to bring about profitability. Obama was quick to let it be known that there was a lot of work that needed to be done to restore America’s lofty place as a world leader.
Then it was over—just like that, and people began to work their way toward whatever transportation would take them back home. Trying to walk with a million people moving all at once is the most distressing feeling I have encountered. Every possible direction was blocked by human bodies—forward, backward, sideways—it did not matter. You were essentially trapped.
But thanks to my Scout training, I had carried a map of Washington, DC, which I unfurled, took stock of my location and struck out into the direction that I believed would take me across the bridge, out of Washington, DC to Arlington, Virginia, at Pentagon City. It was a six to seven kilometer hike which for a man who runs a marathon was nothing. I walked away, keeping focused, until I ran across Sheila and Lindsay—two young women going to Pentagon City. Sheila works for the Senate on Capitol Hill, and Lindsay works for the Treasury Department. Both knew my hotel well and told me it was on their way home. They would walk me there.
As we walked, we talked about the significance of the day. I told them that I thought that the day was a good one for race relations in America, that it allowed African Americans to finally feel that they belong to a nation that never fully embraced them, yet expected much of them. The day meant that they could no longer feel unable or incapable of achieving because there were road-blocks, and while those barriers would take a while to disappear, the psychological chain had been broken by Obama.
Sheila thought that the day allowed whites to finally feel a kinship that they never really felt with African Americans because there was always the fear of being rejected by blacks as patronizing and condescending. As a young white woman, she felt that her country was on the right track, and that she would not have missed the day for anything.
Lindsay said she felt Obama spoke for everyone, blacks and white, in a language that everyone understood, and that she felt privileged as a white woman to be able to live in an America run by an African American.
We stopped talking as we finally arrived at my hotel. I bade the two good bye. It was the end of a day in history, a momentous day not to be forgotten soon.
Opiyo.oloya@sympatico.ca