The Story Begins... DECEMBER 10, 2005, Pt 2

At this point, the man was being questioned by parents, “What's  going on? What is it?” He said nothing and took off running. Click here to read the prequel

I turned to the mother beside me and said to her, “That plane has crashed”. She agreed with me and we took off to find Sosoliso staff and make enquiries. On our way, news of the crash filtered down to us and we took off running to the tarmac.

It seemed that while most of us were at the arrival gate waiting for the plane, those who were closer to the tarmac had seen the plane go down and had rushed to the tarmac.

In the distance, I could see the smoking body of an airplane but it looked small and crushed and the wings were not attached to it. Also, where that part of the plane was lying was a distance from where the crowd was running to, further up. As I ran towards the site, I was praying that the plane, having crashed so close to the tarmac, had survivors. As I ran, I was trying to get Mike on the phone. I was not getting through to him, so I called my father. I remember telling him that Kechi's plane had crashed and that they should pray. Then I finally got through to Mike. His scream of anguish still rings in my ear to this day. I asked him to hurry to the airport, that I needed him and he should get someone to drive him. I was worried because Kechi was, still is, the apple of Mike's eye, his princess, and I was concerned that he might not concentrate on his driving during the journey to Port Harcourt. 

I continued past what used to be the body of the airplane, still smoldering, on my left and followed the crowd to a field further down, also to the left where a fire truck and other vehicles were parked. As I got closer to this place, I could smell burning flesh and I knew it was all over. Twisted metal and other aircraft parts were strewn here and there. I got to the edge of the field and I looked out at an array of human bodies strewn all over the field our babies, our hopes and dreams, tossed out like handfuls of stones flung from a giant's hands, motionless, lifeless.

It was as if the fuselage of the plane had upended the bodies before going on to land somewhere else. I went closer, thinking, “my baby is so light complexioned, I will be able to pick her out and get someone to pick her up and carry her out of that field.” But that was not to be, because every single body on that field was completely white from having the skin completely stripped off by fire. I saw a big woman lying on her belly, skin stripped off. Then I saw kids. One still had a workman or iPod ear phone in his/her ear. There was also a cluster of 3 bodies lying close together. One had my daughter's build and I thought, “Oh that must be Kechi”. Their clothes had been burnt off but their underwear was still on them. I could look no further, could go no further. I turned back, heading towards the airport building, walking slowly, trying to get Mike on the phone.

At this point, I found that I could not cry. I did not even try to. I was very unnaturally calm, strangely detached. 

To be continued...