Paris remembers November 13: “They have killed our children”

Jens Althoff entered his home on Friday night after 9 pm. It was November 13, 2015, and he had come from a nearby Parisian bar. He had thought of going to another cafe, but then decided for his house, where, shortly after arriving, he was told to stay. Althoff, 44 years old, lives across from […]

Jens Althoff entered his home on Friday night after 9 pm. It was November 13, 2015, and he had come from a nearby Parisian bar. He had thought of going to another cafe, but then decided for his house, where, shortly after arriving, he was told to stay.

Althoff, 44 years old, lives across from the Bataclan music hall – one of the sites targeted by terrorists during a multi-pronged assault that hit bars and cafes and a football stadium, leaving 130 people dead in one of the bloodiest attacks on French soil since World War II.

He recalls the night in detail. "It was really spooky, because since the Bataclan is completely soundproofed, almost nothing could be heard," he tells dpa. "What you could hear, was when [the police] stormed in. After that, dead silence. That was really frightening."

Inside the music hall, a scene of massacre unfolded. Ninety people were killed by three men wielding guns over the course of nearly three hours. Among the victims of the attack was Precilia Correia, a 35-year-old music lover attend the Eagles of Death Metal concert with a friend.

"I know that when you aren’t personally touched, there is a tendency to forget. But that can’t happen here," Precilia’s mother, Patricia, tells dpa. "They have killed our children, they have wounded youth who will be handicapped for life. This must endure through history. We can never forget."

When Patricia wants to visit her daughter’s memorial, she has to travel to Lisbon, Portugal – where the grave of Precilia, a dual French-Portuguese citizen, is decorated with an Eiffel Tower playing the guitar. Patricia says her daughter loved music, and lived life to the fullest; she had loved Portugal, where her father was from.

"Also," says Patricia, "I didn’t want to bury her in the place where she was murdered."

Paris has a history of attacks, but the scale and shock of the events of November 13 have threatened to change the nature of the city. One year after the attacks took place, existential questions torn open don’t appear to be evaporating from public debate.

"Terrorism has sharpened the crisis of the Republic," says sociologist Michel Wieviorka. "It is putting the state and the institutions through a very difficult test."

Althoff says he has also observed tensions grow, exacerbated by knee-jerk debates like the summer’s Burkini controversy that make discussions over cultural integration more difficult. While politicians expressed a clear commitment to Republican values after the attack on Charlie Hebdo, those principles have become strained.

Even on a daily basis, Althoff has noticed some of the easy-living ways of Parisians have become more muted. But he says that in the diverse neighbourhoods hit hardest during the attacks, the state of emergency no longer colours normal life.

"It was a dramatic evening, but there was a very clear defiant reaction where people said: We will not let this take our life away."

Outside of Paris, at the Stade de France stadium that was targeted by suicide bombers during a friendly match between France and Germany, one of the security guards on duty during the night of the attacks has struggled to keep his routine.

Salim Toorabally, 44, was working on Door L during the night of the match. Forty-five minutes before the kick-off, a young man tried to enter without a ticket – claiming that the person who had his ticket was already inside. Toorabally, a Mauritanian immigrant naturalized in France and himself a Muslim, kept an eye on the young man and flagged him to his colleagues as well.

Only later, when the police showed him photos of the man during their investigation, did Toorabally find out that it was Bilal Hadfi, a 20-year-old man from Belgian who blew himself up that evening. Toorabally was hailed in French media as the hero of the Stade de France.

"Every time I recall these scenes, I am newly shocked," Toorabally tells dpa. "And I realize the situation I was in, because the person I stopped wasn’t just anyone, it was a soldier of Daesh."

Toorabally has since travelled and spoken about his experience at conferences in the US. He has told his story; he met the French president. He saw France change. "Paris was a joyful city. People went out without fear, to the Eiffel Tower, to the Champs-Elysee, without thinking twice," he says.

Afterward, he also had difficulty returning to work; he says that he had heart palpatations. He was asked to work security for a France-Russia football match, but his experience made him pause – he thought he might not respond to the request.

He believes that France has a duty to carry on, though. "We have to show solidarity. We cannot be afraid to go to a football match, to go to the theater, or the cinema, or a restaurant. We have to show that we continue living."

And in the end, Toorabally went back to work at the stadium. (DPA)