Survivor: ‘We are so grateful’
Mohammad Shamim Siddiqui was badly injured in the shooting at Masjid Al-Noor on Deans Ave. He took reporter Vicki Anderson to the mosque to speak about his experience.
Inside the Masjid Al Noor, Mohammad Shamim Siddiqui turns his feet and moves to the exact spot where he was praying when the shooting began. Friday, April 12, marks four weeks since the tragedy that killed 50 and injured many more.
Neatly he puts his socked feet together on a spot at the rear of the Christchurch mosque’s main prayer room.
The temporary carpet is laid on the floor in strips. The walls are white. The air is rich with perfume.
A new carpet will arrive from Iran in two weeks, Siddiqui, 59, explains.
Six people are seated on the floor of the prayer room, near the entranceway.
Across the room, a lone man in prayer is bathed in fading golden sunlight.
Quietly, Siddiqui says that when he heard the first shot ‘‘crack’’ on March 15, he jumped.
He describes seeing his friends who were gunned down. As he does this, his face changes to pure grief. His voice falters. There’s a moment where he looks as if he will collapse but he visibly composes himself.
He stares at a spot across the room with tear-filled eyes.
Often he finds himself thinking about the seemingly random choices his family members made that fateful day which proved profound.
His wife did not attend mosque that day as she felt unwell. His son, Shayan, 16, who was running ‘‘15 seconds late’’, arrived at the mosque just as the shooting began and ran the 150 steps home.
Turning, Siddiqui points to the windows of a door behind where he was praying at the back of the room.
Lifting his right knee, he demonstrates how he and another man shattered the bottom pane of glass after struggling to open the closed door.
Others fled through this window space and survived because of these actions.
He escaped to the carpark at the rear of the mosque and was leaning on a car. There he rang his wife, Rehana Parveen, to warn her about the shooting and reassure her he was safe.
But, just as he uttered the word ‘‘safe’’, the gunman shot him from a distance. An artery was ruptured and his left arm badly injured.
Parveen, still on the phone, heard the moment her husband was shot.
He remembers being unable to talk to her, the phone lying nearby, only able to moan in pain ‘‘for at least five minutes’’.
At dusk on Monday evening, Siddiqui stands on the street outside the mosque. His face is solemn as he supports his injured arm.
Opening the palm of his left hand, he taps his fingers and shakes his head. He cannot move his thumb and index finger because of nerve damage.
His injuries are so severe, doctors have told him he may not be able to return to work for at least six months.
Beside him people take selfies with the flowers, cards, banners, artwork and expressions of love.
It has been raining in Christchurch and, before his third operation, he wants me to go with him to see the ‘‘love and affection’’ before it is washed away.
Often he finds himself thinking about the seemingly random choices his family members made that fateful day which proved profound.
Some things disappear each day. There’s a sense these messages and tributes continue to bring him comfort.
Carefully, with his good arm, outside the mosque he pulls a card from behind cellophane-covered flowers, glistening from the rain. Intently he reads it.
Striding across Deans Ave, he stands beside a tree in Hagley Park.
At its base are flowers, cards, teddy bears and other displays of care. ‘‘Look at all the love,’’ he says. Tenderly he moves a card so the heartfelt words from a stranger can be seen more clearly. Gently he tends to the wilting floral tributes.
He counts the time since the shooting not in weeks but days. Now it is one month since the shooting occurred, but often it does not feel like any time has passed.
From his pockets he pulls the business cards of dignitaries and humanitarians from the United Nations.
He met them at a meeting recently. The night before he had a fever and his daughter Alisha was worried he might have an infection. He was tired and in pain but he went to the meeting because he wanted to find out what was going on.
‘‘They are from human rights and so on,’’ he says. ‘‘They told me that 600 people are suffering from trauma and we have to wait so they can check that everyone wanting assistance is genuine.
‘‘600 people? Can’t they just look up the list of names from the hospital and start with the victims’ families and the survivors?’’
A fund established after the shootings by Victim Support has raised more than
$10 million.
The government agency has so far paid out about $1.7m from the fund to 800 people affected by the terror attacks, including $5000 for each injured victim
and $15,000 for families of people killed.
Millions of dollars have been donated with love and kindness, says Siddiqui.
Meanwhile, he and others affected by the tragedy are struggling financially.
Siddiqui, a self-employed taxi driver who came to Christchurch from India 20 years ago, is the ‘‘sole bread winner of the family’’.
He is grateful for a ‘‘one-off payment from Victim Support and a one-off payment of $1000 from the Muslim Association of Canterbury’’ but is worried about how his family is going to manage financially as he faces a lengthy recovery from his injury. ‘‘It’s been nearly four weeks and what is paid from ACC is just enough to cover my rent.’’
After he was shot, the doctors told him he must rest to help him recover but he has been unable to do so.
‘‘I must go to WINZ, I must go to Inland Revenue, here, there and everywhere to try and sort things out . . . It would have been good if they could appoint one person who does this for us.’’
He would also like his wife to access counselling but has also not been able to find assistance. After he was shot, she ran to the mosque looking for him.
‘‘I am worried about her,’’ he says. Praveen has started a Givealittle page Help Support Christchurch Mosque Shooting Victim to help meet the family’s essential living costs, writing: ‘‘He is the most kind and caring father and husband to me and our children, he is a great friend and man who did not deserve this. I want my husband to fully recover without the extra stress of financial hardship.’’
‘‘People in the community have been so kind and we are so grateful,’’ says Siddiqui.