A diplomat recalls the day Al Qaeda struck Nairobi

On August 7, 1998, Nairobi was a city of pleasant cool-season mornings. But for the Indian High Commission on Harambee Avenue, that Friday became a harrowing chapter in the history of international terrorism. Then Deputy High Commissioner, now former Ambassador to Indonesia, recounts the day Al Qaeda bombed the US Embassy in Nairobi, killing 214 people and wounding over 5,000.

The morning that changed everything

At 10.35 am, I left my computer by the window to take a landline call. It was still the pre-mobile era, though dial-up internet and email were already in use. An old Army colleague from the IPKF years was on the line. As we spoke, I heard a loud sound outside and remarked, 'It sounds like a bomb.' He laughed and said I had clearly not got over my Colombo memories.

Then came the massive explosion. The force brought the wooden partition of my office crashing onto my head, while all 16 windowpanes shattered and flew into the room. I told my colleague, 'This is certainly a bomb,' and hung up.

Chaos and confusion in the city centre

Within minutes, staff rushed into my office, shocked and confused. Some thought it was an earthquake. Having experienced earthquakes in Japan and bombings in Sri Lanka, I was certain this was neither. Nairobi was not a city where one expected either.

Our immediate priority was to secure the High Commission premises, leave guards behind, and evacuate everyone. Every embassy maintains a crisis management plan, and fortunately we had updated ours before Kenya's 1997 general elections. We knew our responsibilities.

When we reached the street, the sight was horrifying. Almost every face was cut and bleeding from shattered glass. Using embassy vehicles, we transported many of the wounded to the Aga Khan Hospital. I can never forget those bloodied faces, people dazed and unable to comprehend what had happened. Despite terrible traffic, we made repeated trips. The spirit of Harambee, pulling together, after which the avenue is named, was truly alive that day.

Discovering the target

Before leaving my office, I had managed to telephone my wife's office at the UN complex. I reached her secretary and asked that she be told to go home immediately and ensure that the children of all mission personnel were safely collected from their schools. Our home became the crisis centre. Telephone services in the city centre soon failed. It was my wife who saw on television that the target had been the United States Embassy. Until then, none of us knew what had actually been attacked.

We later learned that the two sounds we had heard were first a grenade explosion and then the detonation of a truck bomb. This was Al Qaeda's first attack on American assets in Africa, with simultaneous bombings in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam. In Nairobi alone, 214 people were killed and more than 5,000 injured. Only 13 of those who died were American citizens. Most victims were ordinary Kenyans caught in the crowded city centre when the blast sent glass flying in every direction.

The human cost and the quiet response

The five-storeyed Ufundi House behind our building collapsed, burying scores of people beneath the rubble. Many were staff and students of a secretarial institute housed there. Around 120 people were rescued over the next two days. Others survived longer but could not be reached in time. The 'Kenyan Rose', whose story became a symbol of the nation's hopes, was among them.

Although the US Embassy seemed far away by road, we discovered it stood barely 60 metres behind our building. Their chancery was badly damaged and they lost twelve members of their mission. The greatest devastation occurred near the parking area where the truck bomb exploded after failing to enter the embassy basement.

That day Kenya was grievously wounded without fully understanding why it had become a victim of international terrorism. The American account of the bombing has been widely documented. What remains less well known is the quiet story of how others responded.

The staff of the Indian High Commission and our families living together at High Ridge rose magnificently to the occasion. Within hours we had established a functioning crisis centre with dial-up internet connectivity, restored communications, contacted Indian community organisations, and organised meals for the guards who remained at the High Commission.

Reflections nearly three decades later

Nearly three decades later, I still remember that Friday morning with remarkable clarity. I pray for the souls of all those innocent people who became victims of terrorism that day, and hope that their sacrifice continues to remind us of the human cost of hatred and violence.

The writer is former Ambassador to Indonesia and author of 'The Durian Flavour'. Views expressed are personal and solely those of the author.