Such yell would arrest anyone, it was certainly an alarm! We all trooped
out, since the match had not started, a little amusement could spice up
a bright Sunday afternoon. Noone could guess what was behind such a
distress shrill.
Getting outside, the feeling was of shock as
well as amazement – an aircraft flying so close to the house roof? This
must be a movie stunt, I thought at the time.
Haven always had a
desire to understand the rudiments of movie-making; I thought it best to
search for a camera so I could capture this rare spectacle. Some
Nollywood stars must be behind this first-ever, real-live video shoot, I
must fast locate the camera crew of this movie-in-the-making, I
thought.
Then, it occurred to me that this massive object, with
the inscription “DANA Airlines” and as huge as the 3 storey building
nearby can in no way be a stunt prop. Too close, the scene too real, too
dangerous to be one.
Then poured comments and several questions –
“What is the pilot doing?” “Is this a joke?” “This is in no way funny?”
came in different languages and from different lips already aghast by
the sight of the big bird hovering side to side, up and down. My cousin
and I glanced at one another, and then it dawned on us that it was no
joke afterall.
Little did we know that the pilot was in his
moment of helplessness, confusion, anguish and last-minute attempt to
save not just himself, but other one hundred and sixty souls (or
thereabout) entrusted into his care just 45 minutes ago in Abuja.
Right
at that moment the obviously-distressed aircraft took a sharp plunge
straight ahead into a building occupied by a church (Redeemed Christian
Church of God) sweeping though a newly constructed but
yet-to-be-occupied residential building! Boom! It was a deafening sound.
We – my neighbourhood was hit by a sad reality!
Those of us who
had thronged out at first ran towards the crashed plane, and many were
astounded by the loud sound, not knowing what the cause was. We only
could point in the direction, a few of us could mutter “plane”, “ fly”
“crash” or any other thing to communicate the horror, the thoughts in
most minds was apparently running at a faster pace than words could
express. The shock was indescribable!
In a moment, we got close
enough but could not see much at first because of the smoke from the
plane. A climb up the fence of a building nearby gave a view of the
crashed plane.
Some others ran towards a 3-storey building which
had a hit from the shredded wing of the plane. That was the house that
the family who fell victim lived; they were reportedly seated, ready to
watch the football match my entire neighbourhood ended up not watching.
As
if in a flash, a fire started in a part of the building. Then came a
man shouting from the balcony of the third floor, “What happened?” The
yells of “plane!” “fire!” “jump!” from us all saw the man disappeared
inside the house, to the bewilderment of everyone. However, he emerged
few seconds later with a young child (his child), jumped down with the
child wrapped and clutched to his body. As we later found out, the
staircase was already crushed by the impact of the crash. I had believed
and prided my father the best, but I must confess, I saw the great
father in this man.
He landed alive but with a dislocated arm. We
could only scream from a distance “Come out”, “Come out”; we were all
too scared to go drag him out of the premises for fear another explosion
or of the building collapsing. It took him about 3 minutes to get up,
as he struggled out through the gate to the waiting arms of those of us
who had alerted him.
We were interested in anyone still left in
the building; we asked, he could only mutter that his brother-in-law
was in one of the rooms, fast asleep while he and his child were waiting
for the other members of his family to come back from church. The agony
of this moment was beyond words as we knew we could not risk going into
the building to help the brother-in-law or anyone left.
Many
residents of Iju have by now summoned the sense and courage to make
calls continuously to media houses. Every known SOS agencies were
contacted and bombarded with calls for help.
By now, the time was
4.30pm. Scores have gathered from everywhere around to catch a glimpse
of what was going on. Many living on Olaniyi Street and all around it
started evacuating few valuables – TV sets, mattresses, chairs – in fear
of an eventual fire to their homes. Generating sets were top priorities
for most, as this was thought, and wisely so, a great aid to any
inferno.
We could only wait for fire-fighters and rescue teams.
The policemen from the nearest police station, Adeshola station came but
could not do much. Indeed, no one knew what to do! We tried to break
the windows of the burning storey building by throwing stones to allow
for space for anyone who might be trapped and searching for a way of
escape but none came out.
People started praying in their
different religious faiths and tongues. A great many were in agonising
tears. I was in tears. Old men with gray hairs were in tears, crying
like babies. I have never seen such emotionally-rending scene, never!
There
were those who wanted to have a share of the loot but those of those
who got to the scene earlier prevented them to the best of our capacity.
The
first set of fire-fighters came 40 minutes after the crash to the
elation of us all. At least, all the houses would not be razed by this
fire, as we all initially envisaged! We were ready to help and we
encouraged the safety men so.
Despite the efforts of the
fire-fighters, it was clear to us that with the raging fire, from the
crashed aircraft or the buildings affected, it would be a miracle for
any of the trapped occupants to make it through. The smoke from the
airplane has now become a huge raging fireball! No one could go near,
the heat was intense. We only could stare helplessly from a distance.
The first fire fighting crew did very well, and by the time they ran out of water, other trucks came. It was 5.40p.m.
Two
helicopters were hovering, one belonging to Governor Fashola of the
Lagos State (or so I thought) and another of the Nigeria Air Force which
could not find a space to land.
The crowd had grown large, in
their multitudes. Rescue workers from the Red Cross, Lagos State
Emergency Management Agency team, The Police; in fact, every known
law-enforcement agency was represented in their droves.
At
6.20pm, the rescue workers could go into the building to bring out
victims- many of them, burnt beyond recognition, laid in body bags and
whisked away by stand-by ambulances. What a day, what a scene, what a
horror
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