He worked on the 107th floor of the World Trade Center. A shift swap saved his life

EDITOR’S NOTE: Watch the CNN premiere of “ Top of the World ,” a CNN Films documentary, Monday at 8p ET/PT on CNN.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, Sekou Siby should have been 107 floors above Manhattan, supervising the breakfast cold- food station at the iconic Windows on the World restaurant.

Instead, he was home in bed beside his pregnant wife. A few days earlier, Siby had traded shifts with Moises Rivas, an Ecuadorian musician in his 20s who played in a band on weekends. Rivas needed Sunday off, so Siby covered for him. On Tuesday, Rivas returned the favor and took Siby’s place in the kitchen.

On that fateful morning, Siby was awakened by a frantic phone call from a co-worker’s wife and turned on his TV to see the North Tower engulfed in flames. He later learned that Rivas was one of the more than 2,700 people killed at the World Trade Center in the deadliest terrorist attack in American history.

For Siby, who is originally from Ivory Coast, the scale of the loss was impossible to comprehend.

“You can’t imagine losing the entire morning crew — all of the people you used to interact with — all gone,” he told CNN. “You’re not a soldier to be prepared for something like that. You’re just a simple worker.”

Siby, who lost 79 co-workers that day, is featured in a new CNN documentary short film, “ Top of the World ,” about the famed restaurant and the immigrant workers who powered it. The film premieres Monday night on CNN ahead of the 25th anniversary of the attacks.

Siby was 36 at the time, and the tragedy sent his life on a new trajectory. He also wrestled with survivor’s guilt over the death of his younger coworker and so many of their colleagues.

“They were all gone. I have to live with that,” he said. “Why them? Why not me?”

Before coming to the US in 1996, Siby taught French in the Ivory Coast.

He’d left his wife behind and planned to bring her to the US after saving enough money. He spoke little English when he arrived. For two years, he worked as a delivery worker for a supermarket as he took language lessons.

In October 1998, Siby got a job as a prep cook at Windows on the World, where he peeled massive bags of onions, potatoes and shrimp for $8 an hour.

“As a prep cook, you are not required to have a knife skill,” he said. On slow days, he offered to help the cooks so he’d learn the knife skills he needed to move up in the kitchen. “Learning how to hold the knife, how to chop without hurting yourself … this is how we progress from being a prep cook to a cook,” he said.

The restaurant opened in 1976, offering unparalleled views of New York City from its floor-to-ceiling windows in the World Trade Center’s North Tower. In its heyday it was the highest-grossing standalone restaurant in the country and attracted diners from around the globe — including such celebrities as Henry Kissinger, Dolly Parton and Donald Trump — for the novelty of dining a quarter-mile in the sky.

But behind the crisp white tablecloths, strict dress code and expensive steak dinners was a kitchen full of immigrant workers washing dishes, preparing food and keeping the restaurant running.

Angel Franco/The New York Times/Redux

Siby’s knife skills paid off, and he was promoted to cook, earning $12 an hour. At the time, he lived with Abdoul Karim, another West African immigrant and Windows on the World employee who’d helped him get the restaurant job. By late 2000, Siby’s wife had joined him in New York City. Before long they were expecting a daughter.

Siby was in the US illegally but was seeking asylum and had work authorization. After years of uncertainty, his life seemed to be coming together. His wife was finally with him, their child was on the way and he’d built a strong community behind the kitchen doors.

His co-workers came from Australia, Latin America, Africa and Asia, chasing work, papers and a better future, Siby said. On weekends, they met at a park in Queens to share food and talk through the immigration fears they carried off the clock. A group of them played soccer three days before 9/11.

“It was almost like a real window on the world,” he said.

Siby was sleeping when Karim’s wife called on the morning of September 11.

“‘Your building is burning,’” he recalled her saying. “She was looking for her husband.”

Siby turned on the television and watched, horrified, as smoke billowed from the Twin Towers. He called the Windows on the World kitchen, but no one answered.

“Both numbers in the kitchen (were) ringing, but nobody picked up,” he said. “When the building collapsed, the phone went dead silent.”

Even as the towers fell, he held on to a belief that his friends had escaped.

But as hours stretched into days with no word from them, his hope turned to sorrow. Siby and a few other surviving coworkers searched hospitals and waited for news. Because a lot of the restaurant’s workers were undocumented, their relatives feared going to authorities for help, he said.

Some barely spoke English and relied on Siby and a few other employees to help them find answers. They later learned that nobody above the North Tower’s impact zone had escaped.

For Siby, it soon became clear that Rivas and his friend Karim were gone, too. Before Siby’s wife arrived from Ivory Coast, he’d lived with Karim and his family, and considered him an older brother. Siby had not only lost the coworker who took his shift and much of the community that had carried him through immigrant life in New York. He had lost the man who’d helped make the city feel like home.

“It was one of the most painful moments … in my life,” he said.

Siby was 36 and suddenly jobless. His daughter was born October 3, 2001, giving the grieving father what he described as a “shining moment.” But he still wonders whether he’d have been a different father if he had not been carrying so much grief.

“Taking care of a baby helped me occupy my mind and give me a reason why God saved my life,” he said.

After of the attacks, Siby never returned to restaurant work. He turned down jobs that required social interaction and became a taxi driver.

“It (didn’t) make sense to make friends and lose them,” he said. “I’d just pick up somebody and drop them and that’s it. … Nobody’s going to be my friend and drop dead the next day.”

Over time, he started channeling his grief by helping survivors and displaced restaurant workers. He volunteered with organizations serving families affected by the attacks and helped connect widows and other immigrants with resources.

“For me, it was a way of forgetting my own pain to see there are people who suffered more than me,” he said. “I felt the usefulness of being there for those people.”

Siby went on to serve as the president of Restaurant Opportunities Centers United, a national nonprofit that advocates for restaurant workers. He’s since left that job and now owns a company that provides management consulting for non-profits.

Siby is now a US citizen and has a doctorate in business administration from the University of Phoenix. Twenty-five years after 9/11 , he still carries memories of that horrible day.

About five years ago, at a gathering of families of former Windows on the World workers, Siby heard a woman tell the story about her husband’s death on September 11. He’d not been scheduled to work that day, she said, but had swapped shifts with another employee.

From Voices Center for Resilience

He realized the woman was Elizabeth Rivas — Moises’ wife — and she was talking about him.

Rivas, a father of two, had taken the restaurant job with big dreams of becoming a chef and a famous musician, his wife had said in a previous interview . In the desperate minutes after the plane struck the tower, he had called home and left a message telling his wife he loved her.

Siby approached her.

“I had to tell her, ‘That person, that’s me,’” Siby said. ‘And I live with that guilt.’”

She cried, Siby said. Until that moment, she’d never known the coworker whose shift her husband had taken. The encounter deepened his survivor’s guilt, and he had to remind himself that he wasn’t responsible for what happened, he said.

But he has not stayed in touch with her since that moment.

“It’s too emotional and I don’t think I can help her in one way or the other,” he said.

Siby eventually stopped attending the Windows on the World reunions to focus on his family and their future.

Siby’s never forgotten the young cook and banjo player who swapped shifts with him. Today, when he thinks of Rivas, his heart still fills with grief and gratitude.

During a recent visit to the World Trade Center memorial, he paused at the edge of the reflecting pool and traced his fingers across the names of former co-workers etched on the dark stone.

He lingered over Rivas’ name. “This was supposed to be my name.”

编者按：请于美国东部时间/太平洋时间周一晚 8 点在 CNN 观看 CNN Films 纪录片《世界之巅》的 CNN 首播。

2001 年 9 月 11 日清晨，塞古·西比本应在曼哈顿上空 107 层，在标志性的“世界之窗”餐厅监督早餐冷食站的工作。

然而，他却待在家里，躺在床上陪伴着怀孕的妻子。几天前，西比和莫伊塞斯·里瓦斯换了班。里瓦斯是一位二十多岁的厄瓜多尔音乐家，周末会在乐队演出。里瓦斯周日需要休息，所以西比替他顶班。周二，里瓦斯也帮了西比一个忙，在厨房里替他干活。

在那个悲剧的早晨，西比被同事妻子焦急的电话吵醒，打开电视，看到北塔已被火焰吞噬。后来他得知，里瓦斯是世贸中心2700多名遇难者之一，这场袭击是美国历史上最致命的恐怖袭击。

对于来自科特迪瓦的西比来说，损失的规模是无法理解的。

“你无法想象失去整个早间节目团队——所有你以前接触过的人——全部离开，”他告诉CNN。“你不是军人，不需要为这种事情做好准备。你只是个普通的工人。”

西比在那场袭击中失去了79位同事。CNN最新推出的纪录短片《世界之巅》讲述了这家著名餐厅及其背后的移民工人的故事。该片将于周一晚在CNN首播，恰逢恐怖袭击25周年纪念日。

当时西比36岁，这场悲剧彻底改变了他的人生轨迹。他也一直饱受幸存者内疚的折磨，因为他年轻的同事以及许多其他同事都不幸遇难。

“他们都走了。我只能接受这个事实，”他说。“为什么是他们？为什么不是我？”

西比于 1996 年来到美国之前，曾在科特迪瓦教法语。

他把妻子留在了英国，计划攒够钱后把她接到美国。他刚到美国时英语水平很差。接下来的两年里，他一边在超市做送货员，一边学习英语。

1998 年 10 月，西比在“世界之窗”餐厅找到了一份备菜厨师的工作，他在那里剥大袋的洋葱、土豆和虾，每小时工资 8 美元。

“作为备菜员，你不需要具备刀工，”他说。在不忙的日子里，他会主动帮助厨师，这样他就能学习到晋升所需的刀工。“学习如何握刀，如何切菜而不伤到自己……这就是我们从备菜员晋升为厨师的过程，”他说。

这家餐厅于 1976 年开业，位于世界贸易中心北塔，拥有落地窗，可饱览纽约市无与伦比的美景。鼎盛时期，它是全美收入最高的独立餐厅，吸引了来自世界各地的食客——包括亨利·基辛格、多莉·帕顿和唐纳德·特朗普等名人——前来体验在离地四分之一英里高空用餐的新奇经历。

但洁白的桌布、严格的着装要求和昂贵的牛排晚餐背后，是一个挤满了移民工人的厨房，他们洗碗、准备食物，维持着餐厅的运转。

Angel Franco/纽约时报/Redux

西比的刀工技艺让他脱颖而出，他被提拔为厨师，时薪12美元。当时，他与另一位西非移民、世界之窗餐厅员工阿卜杜勒·卡里姆合租，卡里姆曾帮助西比找到这份餐厅工作。2000年底，西比的妻子也来到纽约与他团聚。不久之后，他们即将迎来一个女儿。

西比非法滞留美国，但他正在寻求庇护，并且拥有工作许可。经历了多年的动荡不安，他的生活似乎终于步入正轨。妻子终于回到了他身边，他们的孩子即将出生，而且他在自家厨房里建立起了一个强大的社区。

西比说，他的同事们来自澳大利亚、拉丁美洲、非洲和亚洲，他们来到这里是为了工作、获得合法身份，并追求更美好的未来。周末，他们会在皇后区的一个公园聚会，一起分享食物，倾诉工作之余对移民问题的担忧。9·11事件发生前三天，他们中的一些人还一起踢足球。

“这简直就像一扇通往世界的真实窗口，”他说。

9月11日早上，卡里姆的妻子打电话来时，西比正在睡觉。

“‘你的楼着火了，’”他回忆起她当时说的话。“她正在找她的丈夫。”

西比打开电视，惊恐地看着世贸双塔冒出滚滚浓烟。他打电话给“世界之窗”酒店的厨房，但无人接听。

“厨房里的两个电话都在响，但没人接，”他说。“大楼倒塌后，电话就彻底没声音了。”

即使双子塔倒塌，他仍然坚信他的朋友们已经逃脱。

但随着时间推移，几天过去了，仍然杳无音讯，他的希望渐渐变成了悲伤。西比和其他几位幸存的同事四处奔走，奔走于各大医院，焦急地等待着消息。他说，由于餐厅里很多员工都没有合法身份，他们的亲属不敢向当局求助。

有些人几乎不会说英语，只能依靠西比和其他几名员工的帮助来寻找答案。他们后来得知，北塔撞击区以上区域无人幸存。

对西比来说，里瓦斯和他的朋友卡里姆也很快离世，这让他感到十分震惊。在西比的妻子从科特迪瓦来之前，他一直和卡里姆一家住在一起，视卡里姆如兄长。西比不仅失去了接替他班次的同事，也失去了在纽约这个移民社区里支撑他度过人生的大部分人脉。他失去的，是那个让他觉得这座城市像家一样温暖的人。

“那是我一生中最痛苦的时刻之一，”他说。

西比36岁，突然失业。他的女儿于2001年10月3日出生，给这位悲痛欲绝的父亲带来了他所说的“闪耀时刻”。但他仍然在想，如果不是背负着如此沉重的悲痛，他是否会成为一位不同的父亲。

他说：“照顾婴儿让我转移了注意力，也让我明白了上帝为什么救了我的命。”

袭击事件发生后，西比再也没有回到餐馆工作。他拒绝了需要社交的工作，成为了一名出租车司机。

“交朋友又失去朋友毫无意义，”他说。“我只会和人做朋友，然后又把他们甩掉，仅此而已……没有人会成为我的朋友，然后第二天就突然去世。”

随着时间的推移，他开始将悲痛转化为帮助幸存者和流离失所的餐馆员工。他志愿加入服务于受袭击影响家庭的组织，并帮助寡妇和其他移民联系相关资源。

“对我来说，看到还有比我遭受更多苦难的人，就能让我忘记自己的痛苦，”他说。“我感到自己帮助这些人是有意义的。”

西比后来担任了餐饮业机会中心联合会（Restaurant Opportunities Centers United）的主席，这是一个为餐饮业员工争取权益的全国性非营利组织。他后来离开了这个职位，现在拥有一家为非营利组织提供管理咨询服务的公司。

西比现在是美国公民，并拥有凤凰城大学的工商管理博士学位。9·11事件发生25年后，他仍然对那可怕的一天记忆犹新。

大约五年前，在一次前“世界之窗”员工家属的聚会上，西比听到一位女士讲述了她丈夫在9月11日去世的故事。她说，他那天原本没有被安排上班，而是和另一位员工换了班。

来自韧性之声中心

他意识到这个女人是伊丽莎白·里瓦斯——莫伊塞斯的妻子——而她正在谈论他。

里瓦斯是两个孩子的父亲，他的妻子曾在之前的采访中说过，他怀揣着成为一名厨师和著名音乐家的梦想，才接受了这份餐厅的工作。飞机撞上世贸中心大楼后的几分钟里，他曾打电话回家，留言告诉妻子他爱她。

西比走近了她。

“我不得不告诉她，‘那个人，那就是我，’”西比说。“我一直背负着这份愧疚。”

西比说，她哭了。在那之前，她从未见过她丈夫替班的那位同事。他说，这次偶遇加深了他幸存者的愧疚感，他不得不反复提醒自己，他无需为发生的一切负责。

但从那以后，他就再也没有和她联系过。

“这太让人情绪激动了，我觉得我无论如何都帮不了她，”他说。

为了专注于家庭和未来，西比最终停止参加“世界之窗”聚会。

西比从未忘记过那个和他轮班的年轻厨师兼班卓琴手。如今，每当他想起里瓦斯，心中依然充满悲伤和感激。

在最近一次参观世界贸易中心纪念馆时，他停在倒影池边，用手指描摹着刻在深色石头上的前同事的名字。

他反复念着里瓦斯这个名字。“这本来应该是我的名字。”