Four months ago Nour Tavis was running for his life.
As gunfire rattled behind him, he scrambled across the Al Noor Mosque, over the bodies of his brothers and watching others fall where they
stood as a violent hail of bullets pelted them, ending their lives.
It's been 121 days since a gunman opened fire at Al Noor, inflicting fatal wounds on 44 people before fleeing in a car to Linwood Mosque and killing seven more.
A further 48 people were wounded in the deadly attacks.
Tavis can still see the scene in his mind as if it was happening right now.
It haunts him.
But he is desperate to move forward, to forget what happened that bloody and awful Friday just six or so minutes after the imams started their weekly sermons.
"It's been four months … it's getting better," he said.
The Herald first spoke to Tavis at his home about 10pm on March 15.
He shared his story - how he was sitting in the front row with his friend when the shooting started, how they ran for cover, how they escaped through a window, how they fled over a 1.5m wall and begged a neighbour to let them in, to save their lives.
Less than 48 hours later Tavis, a father of two who emigrated to New Zealand from
Morocco 15 years ago, was back at work.
"I didn't take any time off, keeping myself busy was better," he said.
Advertisement
Advertise with NZME."There was nobody I could talk to about it at home so I thought I'd better just work."
/cloudfront-ap-southeast-2.images.arcpublishing.com/nzme/ECKIMBAJE6ZCDIIIEOBFIUNY5A.jpg)
Al Noor reopened for prayers on March 23 and Tavis was there.
He'd been in a few days before, and struggled.
"I went in there and there was a different feeling … like it was haunted," he said
"I could still see the bodies in my mind, it gave me goosebumps.
"But I pushed myself, I had to go, it was good for me … I convinced myself it was going to be okay."
Tavis knew every one of the victims who lost their lives to the gunman on March 15.
"I knew all of them … I knew most of their names but I knew all of their faces," he said.
"Some were my close friends … Now when I go to see their families, they are not there any more - I sit there and always in my mind, I think 'are they home?' and I wait for them to come through the door.
"It's really, really sad."
And the survivors?
Tavis knows most of them too.
Advertisement
Advertise with NZME.In their new beginning, post March 15, they talked about what had happened to them, their friends and their families.
They wanted to, needed to share.
"We would talk about our experience, what we did to escape, what we saw … you could see tears coming down their faces, it was exhausting for us," said Tavis.
"Now we just try to not remember, we try to forget things and we talk about other things.
"We are supporting each other and that's really helping."
Faith has played a mammoth part in their healing.
It's helped them accept what has happened and confront it.
Their beliefs are what's holding them together.
"We really believe that if it was meant to be our time that day, we would be gone," he explained.
"Those people who passed away, it was their time and there was nothing that we could have done - or the police, or anyone - to save them.
"That helps us."
/cloudfront-ap-southeast-2.images.arcpublishing.com/nzme/23MSLU7LDGZNVYVAZTH3G45LPY.jpg)
For Tavis, the hardest part of the past 120-odd days is a feeling he cannot shake - a feeling of fear that it will all happen again.
"I always think it could happen again - anywhere, it doesn't even have to be at a mosque," he said.
"I think that someone is going to be silly, maybe they are mentally sick or maybe they are motivated by hate speech or racism, and it will happen again.
"That's what is in my mind all the time, I always think about that."
Last weekend Tavis attended a Muslim ceremony similar to a christening.
About 30 people - all Muslim - were gathered together for what was supposed to be a happy and joyous event.
"There was no security, and I just said to myself, 'What if someone finds out we are here? We would be such an easy target'," he remembered.
"Anybody could come and do whatever they wanted to us at something like that and just walk away - and that really haunts us now.
"I always think about what we can do to make ourselves safe."
But Tavis is also at peace with whatever his future holds.
"If it's my time, it's going to be my time," he said.
"I'm going to be prepared - I will do good deeds and I will be as perfect as I can, I'm going to be a good person all of the time and then when it's my time, I will go doing good things.
"That's the only thing I can do."
One thing that is subsiding four months on from the terror attack are the nightmares and flashbacks.
Just recently, Tavis has been able to sleep - and the sleep is welcome.
It's tiring being worried and scared and remembering the brutal day over and over.
/cloudfront-ap-southeast-2.images.arcpublishing.com/nzme/7MT33WHWKWSNQ5MCQ3DC3K3OY4.jpg)
"The nightmares … they are not exactly the same, but in every one the same thing
happens and I am just trying to survive.
"It's less often now, I can sleep a little bit now and that is nice."
Tavis thought about going to court to see the man charged with the March 15 attacks.
He does not speak the man's name because he does not want to give him any power.
"I do not want anyone to think he is a hero, he's not a hero at all," he said.
"I just want the person responsible for this to realise he has done wrong.
"But I believe in the New Zealand justice system and I think they are going to do well in court - I am confident the person who did this is going to get what he deserved.
"That isn't for me to say though, it's not for me to forgive him, that is between him and the Creator."
Tavis has not once thought about leaving Christchurch after the attack.
It is his home and he loves the Garden City, his neighbours, his job and the life he has built for himself and his two daughters.
It will take more than a terror attack to move this man.
"When people ask where I am from, I say 'Christchurch'.
"I am from Christchurch, I am a Cantabrian."
