The Foreign Service Journal, July/August 2018

34 JULY-AUGUST 2018 | THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL between Lizzie and me. Over the coming weeks, what started as “a few scratches” on my wife’s face turned into a few cuts turned into some wounds turned into a loss of her nose and her eyesight—and gangrene. They finally convinced my wife—she of unimaginable stubbornness and dedication to her friends and country—to be medevaced to Nairobi. Over the course of the next few weeks and months, we all worked seven-day weeks, about 18 hours a day. All my hair turned gray; my weight dropped to 122 pounds. A few days after the bombing, I took my deceased deputy’s husband, mother and three small children to the airport to fly home to the United States. We were in the departure lounge when her young- est, a 3-year-old cutie, looked up at me and asked, “Where is Mummy? Isn’t she coming with us?” A woman I didn’t know came tomy office one day—picture an 18 feet by 18 feet room shared by 12 accountants and a group of Marines—and asked to pay her phone bill. I explained that the cashier had been killed and all our records were gone, but I could see that something was seriously wrong here: the woman was bent on paying her bill. I flipped through some papers andmade up a number, and she wroteme out a check. I later learned that she had lost her husband and son in the bombing, and was insisting on tak- ing care of the usual details of departing post. I was called to report to the ambassador’s residence—the families of the deceased Kenyan staffmembers wanted information on their finances. As I entered the back garden I sawmore than 200 Kenyans waiting for me to explain what they would do now that their sole breadwinner was gone. It wasn’t just 37 Kenyans who had died that day; it was hundreds of Kenyans, and Americans, whose lives had died that morning.That was the day that crushedme the most, the sheer extent of the horror sitting in front of those people, who were all waiting to hear “What’s next for us?” Fast forward to 2012, when I was once again serving in Nairobi. I was chargé d’affaires when I was called to the embassy late one night. We had pictures of a foreigner who had been killed in Soma- lia, and he looked just like Fazul Mohamed, al-Qaida’s reported mastermind behind both bombings. Fourteen years of searching, with a $5million reward, finally paid off. For my small part, I sent two FBI agents to theMogadishu airport early the next morning, and they confirmed through fingerprints that this bastard was dead. I felt a circle had been closed. Tears Taste the Same Everywhere Brian W. Flynn U.S. Public Health Service When the attack occurred, I was on active duty as a commis- sioned officer in the U.S. Public Health Service where, among other roles, I directed the government’s domestic disaster men- tal health program. USAID asked me to come to Kenya (passing on a request from the Kenyan Medical Association) to advise on the psychosocial impact of the bombing on Kenyans. In Nairobi, I was based in the combined USAID/State Department building, and soon became engaged in observing and consulting on the psychosocial impact on members of both of those organizations, as well as the Kenyan response. I worked closely with all levels of both organizations, including the medical leadership and Ambassador Bushnell and her staff. Later, I worked with USAID to review and administer a mental health program for Kenyans. I also worked with other U.S. mental health colleagues to assess the mental health impact of the bombings in both Kenya and Tanzania. Working on the other side of the world with Americans, as well as people of different local cultures, was a new experience for me. I felt an urgency to make an impact quickly and to try to The remains of the Foreign Commercial Service office, and an adjoining restroom, in U.S. Embassy Nairobi after the blast. COURTESYOFAUGUSTMAFFRY