It is not easy to work while you are surrounded by corpses; or to keep your emotions from finding their way into your eyes. 

I am not the type that likes to take selfies with killed or injured people and I am also not among those who continue to write about the ugly things they see every minute on their social networking sites. There is no time for any of that now.

It is not easy to work while you are surrounded by corpses; or to keep your emotions from finding their way into your eyes. 

I am not the type that likes to take selfies with killed or injured people and I am also not among those who continue to write about the ugly things they see every minute on their social networking sites. There is no time for any of that now.

I am neither courageous nor bold enough to happily confront death in the pursuit of professional excellence yet it was the feeling of confusion, survival, and my desire to be on the front lines, that placed me in Bardo Museum on March 18.

I was sitting with a number of my colleagues in the parliament’s yard discussing issues with the Minister of Justice, but he quickly left us after receiving a telephone call from the prime minister. It was 12:18 p.m., two minutes after the shooting began. Together with my colleague, we went to the lower yard when we heard one of the employees talking about shooting going on behind the parliament. Upon our arrival, we saw the presidential security forces, tasked with guarding the entrance of the parliament, carrying their guns and calling the security authorities to send back-up.   

We returned to the parliament yard and told everyone we met what we had heard and seen, in order to warn them not to leave the place. I carried my phone and my press ID  and went towards the museum. I tried to come close to the victims, but the security forces did not allow me.  I saw people running to escape from the gunmen and I walked towards them and asked them a number of questions. 

I then entered the museum when the security forces confirmed that one of the gunmen had escaped and had climbed to the roof of the museum. From there, he could easily reach the roof of the parliament, as the two buildings are so close to each other. MPs and employees started to panic and the security forces of the presidential guard, who were unarmed and not wearing bullet proof vests were guarding the entrance with their bare chests. After several minutes, the two security personnel, tasked with guarding the joint gate between the museums, the parliament and the mosque, arrived alive.

They explained how the two armed men entered carrying their Kalashnikovs, threatened them to retreat and then quickly went towards their target: a bus full of tourists. The two guards decided to go towards the back in order to inform the authorities of what was going on and to get arms.

It was not easy to enter the parliament building because the anti-terrorism forces insisted on evacuating the premises as soon as possible for fear that it might be targeted and for fear that gunmen might enter it and take those inside hostage. However, my knowledge of the place and all of its halls allowed me, together with three colleagues and the consultant to the speaker of parliament, to reach the place where the battle with the terrorists was taking place.

We stayed in that place for an hour and a half behind the security forces, who continued to try and expel us from it. We watched them exchange fire, using stun grenades, and we saw the hostages look out from the window— a few moments later, they were dead. 

We felt somewhat reassured because by the armed security officer one meter away from us was trying to negotiate the release of the hostages and to protect us as well, although he was most likely to be targeted. The operation ended with the killing of the attackers.  A nightmare ended, but a deeper one started. When I arrived at the museum’s yard, I found myself walking amidst the corpses. 

The security forces continued their efforts to stop us from filming, but the camera on my mobile was able to take many pictures that are embarrassing to humanity.  At the end of the operation, a Colombian tourist came to the site where his wife and son were killed.  He knelt on his knees, hugged his wife and held his son’s hand. He was sobbing and I filmed this very painful scene. 

The Attorney General arrived very late, but the security forces continued to collect the injured and the dead  and put them in ambulances. It was a scene full of blood and there was nothing human about it.  It was a scene which reveals the size of the catastrophe and it made me, as well as those who came to the scene of the crime, see things more clearly. 

I felt sad, completely paralyzed and unable to say anything while watching one of the tourists embrace the members of his family who were killed and the tears in the eyes of the security personnel when they said goodbye to their colleague who was also killed in the attack. 

Buses began taking tourists who miraculously survived the shooting. On the way, in a scene difficult to describe, tourists greeted us. Some held signs with encouraging statements and others raised the victory sign.

I continued to work with my colleagues until late that night— a night that was void of humanity and harmful to our nation.