Tuesday, April 22, 2008

HEWA BORA PLANE CRASH GOMA

18 April, 2008

It is Friday and all the businesses and schools are closed in mourning of those who died in the accident on Tuesday. Businesses closed yesterday at noon and they will remain closed through Saturday. By now many of you have heard of the plane crash on Tuesday afternoon in Goma, DRC. I was at work preparing to go out to shop for a keyboard for my computer when we heard the news here. I went with a group from Caritas to the site and quickly lost my co-workers in the crowd, but my mission was to get to the crash site and help where I could. I stayed the rest of the afternoon there, doing what I could.

Here is the earliest photo of the crash available here in Goma, then compare the second photo taken from the same position but just a little closer, this was taken over two hours later when many journalists began to arrive.






At the crash site it was chaos, but I give so much credit to those young men putting out the fire any way they could and tearing through the smouldering debris looking for survivors. They were throwing sand on the fire and scooping water from the road into basins to throw on the flames, luckily a nice BIG rain had just finished before the accident; otherwise there would have been no water to even try to help. Then there were those who were trying to stop the flames from spreading to other buildings, and others who were moving goods out from damaged or burning buildings so that they could be salvaged. The effort was tremendous.

The one organization so visible in all this chaos was the North Kivu Red Cross. They were the ones I saw following an organized plan of action that was very effective in their endeavours to help rescue and transport victims from the crash site. It was over an hour after I arrived before the military began to try to cordon off the area to get control of the situation. In the meantime I was trying to move people back who were not actively helping as they were hampering the efforts to get water. I have to say my efforts seemed helpless, but finally when MONUC arrived things began to happen.

Literally the only water available was from a large puddle in the road. You all know what a large washbasin looks like; they are all made from plastic here. I saw basin after basin finally in ruins from the efforts of scooping and carrying water to the site. When MONUC forces began the cordon process, they also drove in two big trucks of water and people were able to take water from the trucks in basins to the fire. Now they were starting to form a brigade to pass the water, organization was starting to form. But still the crush of onlookers was a defeating presence, just standing in the way and crushing forward to see, getting in the way, slowing the progress…it was awful.

When the Goma police and Congolese army joined in to move people back it was with violence that they accomplished the job, thus further inflaming the crowd. Several times people starting throwing rocks, the first time in my life I was in the midst of such a situation, looking up to watch out for rocks coming down so that I could avoid being hit. I found myself trying to be a peacekeeper between the onlookers and the police.

After the last survivor was taken away, to be a peacekeeper between the soldiers and the crowd was the next immediate need I saw; as I watched in horror the violence beginning to unfold I felt I had to try and do something. Sometimes as the police threatened and beat the people back the crowd would turn to run and there were many falling and being trampled upon, I could just watch in horror and pray no further injuries occurred. As I tried to intervene in these circumstances I think I was a little voice of calm that did some small thing to help make it a bit better. Several times I even stepped in between police and crowd taking a hold of clubs and arms to hold them back and to say we need calm. Everyone thought that I was a Nun and that helped give me a credible presence, they listened. THANK GOD from whom all blessings flow. I would never have believed I would be the one to step in between violent people, but there I was time after time holding arms ready to strike and saying, we need to be calm…AND IT WORKED. People listened, both crowd and police. Then as evening was coming on I decided I better return to the Procure.

From the Procure I went with Abbe Daniel to two hospitals to visit the wounded. I was so glad to be able to do this because prior to going to the hospital I had been told at the site by the volunteers at the site that only 4 people had been removed alive, but when we arrived at the first hospital we heard that they had received over 40 patients alive….it turns out that 20 were passengers and others were injured on the ground where the plane crashed into the shops. I was able to visit with the one American family from the plane and they had a horrible tale to tell. Luckily for them they all survived but they walked over people underneath of them in the plane to get out and those still alive reaching up trying to get out and when they tried to pull them up and out they were unable because they were trapped in the rubble. The smoke was horrible and the flames became so hot they had to leave them in the plane…what a horrible position to be in, what a choice to have to make. They are a missionary family of the 7th day Adventist church, presently working in Tanzania and were returning to Tanzania.

Another survivor was a Xaverian missionary priest, an Italian. He was able to break out the side and escape with minor burns, cuts, and bruises. He reports seeing that a wheel on the plane was destroyed and that the pilot was trying all he could to stop the plane, but the runway was short because of the lava flow from years past and so at the last moment he veered off the runway to avoid crashing into the lava flow at such a rate of speed and killing all on board. Then, the path the plane was on led into the shops next to the runway. I have heard people saying he made a good decision that saved lives. What a difficult decision to make…another of many that day. As of today I believe he is alive though his co-pilot died the first night in the hospital, they had serious injuries…

Today I heard the story of one woman who threw her baby outside the plane though she was trapped inside. She died, but her baby has survived. She threw the infant outside not knowing what would happen or if anyone could find the child, but she threw the child in hope…





Another man described the impact when the plane came to a stop and how the seats all broke lose and crashed together. The woman seated next to him ended up being his cushion on the impact. She died and he lived, then he was able to help get 4 more children out of the plane before the flames became too intense. Stories of tragedy and stories of heroic acts. So many people that day working so desparately to save lives. Now the process of re-integrating our lives begins. We have to move on and make sense of it all; we pray we will be able to make improvements here in Goma so that the next disaster response is improved by what we have learned this past week from this tragedy of the crash of the Hewa Bora Airplane bound for Kisangani and Kinshasa.

Caritas helped in the next day to load and transport goods from the crash site so that they were not stolen, thus returning to those shopkeepers the goods they had purchased for their businesses.





Now ends my story of the crash, I don't know what else to say, yet there is so much more to say. Life begins to return to normal. On Saturday I walked past the site and it was still cordoned off, but they were loading the tail section of the plane on a truck as i passed. It was eerie and brought back all these thoughts and images. Then I passed this way again on Monday and now the streets is opened again, yet people are still digging through the rubble, looking for belongings or body parts, what ever they can find.
Unfortunately the big planes are still flying out of the airport here, which is unsafe for this kind of aircraft, there is no room to abort should the need arise as it did last week. Also we doubt much will be done by the government as there is a direct relationship of President Kabila to the Hewa Bora Airlines. We have a long way to go here in Goma. Pray that in some way we can help.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

A TRAVEL TALE

Hello everybody!!!! It has been ages since I have posted and following is a bit of story I hope you can enjoy.

Last Saturday I got a last minute opportunity to go to Kigali Rwanda to catch a bus for Bukoba, Tanzania. Sounded like a good idea at the time as I needed to bring a donation to the Ntoma Orphanage near there. The short story is that it took me six days but I finally made it to Bukoba on Thursday evening. Now I will give you a longer version of the story because it so much more interesting and enjoyable.

Saturday morning began with a short meeting with Abbe Oswald before he left for a journey…little did I know that he was going to Kigali. He was just next to leaving when I spoke with him and he asked if I would want to take this opportunity to travel to Tanzania and I jumped at the chance. I QUICKLY packed a few clothes for a few days journey and we left hoping to arrive in Kigali before 12 noon when Oswald’s meeting would begin. Well the first delay began at the Congo Rwanda border. In DRC businesses and roads are closed for a once monthly clean up time on Saturday morning. Road closed also means that the border is closed, we could nothing but wait.

We arrived late to Kigali and the banks were closed. For me that meant I would need to wait until Monday because I needed to withdraw the funds for Ntoma Orphanage. Well now, the Procure Diocese de Goma in Kigali is a very nice place and many wonderful people to visit with, so I was thinking this would be a nice little unexpected holiday…and it was. But of course on Sunday when Abbe Oswald was getting ready to leave I also discovered that Monday everything in Rwanda would be closed again for a national day of mourning for the genocide. So, no problem, my vacation was extended for another day…I was enjoying a nap every afternoon!

Tuesday morning rolled around and I was able to get my money and to get my ticket, but was unable to travel until the next day as the travel would be a full day and I would need to leave in the morning early.

Wednesday morning I am more than ready to go and so impressed with how patient I have been, but realizing that a bit of impatience is starting to rear its ugly head. I arrive to the bus in plenty of time for the scheduled departure of 9am. But of course we didn’t leave until 10am…delayed already and I have a long journey ahead, but everyone assures me I will be to the border of Tanzania by 12 or 12:30pm at the latest. Yes, I live in hope!!!

But on the way we were delayed…. Now I had understood and everyone on the bus understood that the official day of road and business closing was for Monday for the national day of mourning the genocide in Rwanda, but it seems that the distant village of Musumo near the border thought they would close everything on Wednesday instead of Monday. Well by now we were already late to the border by many other stops and delays but I was still hoping I could make it to Bukoba by this night.

With many conversations with military officials our driver was finally able to convince them to let us pass. I think it was because they had this one white person (Mzungu) on the bus and they used this name much saying it would be bad for me to have to wait. So what kind of double system is this that it is ok for everyone else but because of this guest, this Mzungu, we can pass? Well, I have to confess I was glad for the ability to pass, but it made me feel more than a bit weird to pass, but I also am wondering if our bus driver didn’t also have to pay a little money for us to continue on, I guess I’ll never know and it is all just supposition anyway. By the way, Mzungu is the name of white skinned European types.

Then we arrived to the border of Rwanda Tanzania, almost 2pm already, but I have high hopes, I can find a bus or taxi and even if I get in late to Bukoba it will be no problem, it is a very safe place to be. Well, the visa process was a bit longer than I wanted and twice as expensive as I wanted, but by now my patience is really tested and I just want to finish and pay and get on the road!!!! HURRY UP; I HAVE TO GET TO Bukoba BY TONIGHT!

I found a taxi that needed two more passengers and so we waited. I’m really patient again, I know this system, I can wait a bit. And I wait, and I wait, and I realize I need a potty break, but the village here is VERY RURAL and not the kind of place I think I will find a great toilet. I wander around looking for a likely opportunity for a fairly descent toilet because it has been a long bus ride already and I really gotta go…hhhhmmmmm, not much to be seen that interests me. Then I see a place which looks fairly clean inside with an inner courtyard, tables and chairs, it must be the better restaurant in town. I go in with confidence that I have found my place and I walk into a bar where the patrons were all SO HAPPY TO SEE ME!!!! They had all had a few beers too many. Well, I managed to convince them a coke was all I needed and never did make it to the toilet.

As I left my comrades at the local pub I saw one of the border patrol looking for me. He wanted to make sure I was ok and to let me know that I would not find a way to arrive in Bukoba at this late hour and so this little village would be my best place to stay for the night. Well, already I knew this would not be the best place in my mind.

Then I had a great idea, I asked a local gent if there was a priest or pastor in the village and he said yes, the priest’s car was right over there. I looked and he was pointing to a car that I had noticed from the very first, even wondering if it was a taxi. It seems that priest had parked there and if I waited until he returned I could ask him for assistance. And at that moment I looked up the road and saw a priest and nun coming to the car. You cannot know how happy I was to see them.

I went, greeted them, and told them about my predicament after which they immediately gave me a lift to the next village, asked about a bus to Bukoba for me, and better yet took me to a home of Benedictine nuns where I was able to stay for the night. Of course the Benedictine sisters have an immaculate house and you cannot imagine what a beautiful farm they run. I walked with them through much of the farm. They raise cattle, goats, and pigs; beans, coffee, corn, squash, pineapple, and so much more. They also are building a novitiate which is wonderful in design and construction. Then also they manage a woodworking shop where they build furniture...oh and also a dispensary (small clinic/hospital). I enjoyed that visit more than I can say. That evening walking through the farm land and visiting and seeing all they are doing I felt my body relax like I have not felt in weeks, the pain in my neck slipped away and I new a peace that was terrific, I had been rescued and I knew it, and I also new it was a miracle to have such a wonderful thing happen to me. Why was I on the road at just the right time to see that priest and nun walking to their car??? Circumstance…I don’t think so.

That night I enjoyed a wonderful hot shower and slept on a great pillow. The following morning they fed me well again and got me on a bus for Karagwe. Then I transferred to another for Bukoba, it took all day...more delays, but I arrived in Bukoba on the evening of Thursday.

Enough of my stories...hope you get a chuckle out of it. All in all I saw some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen in my life, grass taller than me and the bus running right beside it. Oh did I mention that for a good portion of the last day we were on one lane dirt road where the bush came right to the edge of the bus. And the bush country of Tanzania during the rainy season is spectacular, miles and miles of open country like you have never seen, just fantastically beautiful. And of course I met some really wonderful people riding on the buses and at the bus stands and in the villages and in Kigali and in all the delays…so it seems patience really is a virtue and now that I am rested I can reflect and say I am glad for delays and my adventure of travel because you never know, miracles happen....like turning around in the middle of the road and seeing a priest and nun just when you need them. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.