It was an ordinary evening in the life of two children from Quebec: Romain, 10, was having dinner with his family; Mounir, 15, was returning from a soccer tournament. Then the carefreeness of their childhood was torn from them by a few words: “There was a shooting at the mosque. »
Romain Sénéchal, who lives a stone’s throw from the Islamic cultural center, will never forget this January 29, 2017. The sirens, distant at first then approaching, the flashing lights that cast a disaster light in the dining room: his neighborhood became the epicenter of an attack that would shake the four corners of the world.
“For me, shootings, I only saw that in other countries, especially not in my own little quadrangle,” says Romain, now a teenager. That someone committed murders near my house… I’ve never been so scared. I was literally shaking in terror. »
Mounir Laddada was 15 years old when a radicalized assailant interrupted the evening prayer and then took the lives of 6 people, leaving 17 orphans and a bruised community in his wake.
“This attack was really like 9/11. Everyone remembers where he was that night, explains Mounir. We said to ourselves: “it’s impossible that this happened in Quebec, our safe little town that we love so much”. »
Five years have deposited their dust on the memory of the killing. The fear has faded, the solidarity of tomorrow too. For the young people who watched the tragedy with their childlike eyes, the memory remains vividly marked.
“I see the whole street running up, I see that everyone is afraid, that everyone is crying, remembers Romain. There were so many emotions inside me. »
Mounir, he remembers the disbelief that gave way, quietly, to terror as the worst happened.
“On returning home, we learned who was present that evening at the mosque. »
All were brothers in faith. Some, family friends.
“My mother’s doctoral supervisor was dead. We went to his wife’s to offer our condolences. On the doorstep, her family understood that the widow did not know yet.
“I will never forget my parents’ gaze,” explains Mounir. A look that asked us not to say anything, to remain silent. That it wasn’t up to us to tell her of her husband’s death. »
The next day
The day after a night haunted by a nightmare—Roman remembers that, huddled against his mother, he imagined that an intruder was entering his home to kill his family—the neighborhood of their childhood was unrecognizable.
“There were tons of media, the police, firefighters, says Romain. There were bullet holes on the walls of the mosque. It was horrible. »
At school, mourning was everywhere. “I can still hear the words of one of my friends,” says Mounir. He told us: “guys, spend time with your father and take videos with him to remember his voice”. Two days before, the bullets had condemned his to silence.
In the memory of the two young men, the wave of solidarity raised by the attack erases a little the trauma left by this January evening. In the days following the attack, ten thousand people braved the cold to show their support for the Muslims of Quebec.
“Unfortunately, it shouldn’t have taken an attack to speak with them,” believes Romain. At 10, he remembers that he “just wanted to give a big hug” to his Muslim friends, to let them know “that we were with them”.
“It really changed everything,” recalls Mounir. The outpouring of solidarity was very sincere. For me, it was the Quebec that I love and in which I live. »
Five years later, he affirmed that the tragedy of January 29 did not alter his love for “the country which welcomed [s]parents, who gave them enough to live, work, study and raise their children” and where “the [s]they will certainly grow”.
“For me, Quebec will never be a dangerous city. It will never be Quebec or Quebecers who are responsible for this attack,” maintains the young man, now a student at Laval University. They will never be assimilated to the one who did this. »
Today
The month of January draws to a close and brings back to the surface of the memories the memory of the slaughter. The time passed. Romain, Mounir and their neighborhood have changed, but all remain marked by January 29 from five years ago.
Romain, 15, still jumps when a police car patrols around the Islamic cultural center. I’m afraid it will happen again, he said. Every time I pass the mosque, I have a thought for [les disparus]. I remember that I am still there, but that others have not had this chance. »
In the shadow of the mosque stands for two years a memorial in honor of the six victims. Its three black monoliths are reminiscent of stelae, but also pillars, symbols of the rootedness of Muslims in the capital.
“It woke up part of Quebec to the fact that it’s beautiful, all these communities who decide to come to Quebec because here, we will accept them,” believes the teenager.
For Mounir, the Islamic cultural center of Quebec has taken on a new dimension. The scene of a tragedy five years ago, the place has now become an oasis for him and the community.
“We will never forget, but we will not allow ourselves to be atrophied by this attack,” the young man believes. As proof: the place of worship is gaining in majesty, thanks to a makeover estimated at $1.7 million.
“The mosque is a bit like our umbrella,” concludes Mounir. Everyone is welcome and everyone can come and snuggle up to know that they are not alone, that there are people who are there with them. »