December 10, 2005: Kechi, Mommy Is Here...

I quickly jumped out of the jeep and got on the first motorbike I could stop. The man asked for =N=300.00. I asked him to step on it. The nearest way was blocked by a wedding party and he turned to go through Trans Amadi. After stopping to buy gas, we got to the hospital and he asked for =N=500.00. I gave him =N=600 and hurried inside.

Ikenna and Patty, Mike's brother and sister, were waiting at the hospital gates and rushed me to the emergency room. On a stretcher lay my baby, so badly burned.

I rushed to her side and said to her, “Kechi, Mommy is here”.

She turned her head in my direction and opened her eyes, “Mommy, Mommy”.

I said, “I'm here, darling”. “Mommy, I love you” she said... “I love you too, baby. I love you. You are going to be okay”...

This is just the beginning...

December 10, 2005: Mike's Struggle...

My husband said to me,

“Ije, if it is true that Kechi is alive, if she survives this…”

I cut him off and said to him that the fact that Kechi was alive meant that she was going to be okay.

One of the rescuers kept calling me to ask if I was at the hospital yet. Port Harcourt is known for traffic jams but that day was truly horrible. We were barely moving and were getting very frustrated. I was praying ceaselessly with Mike concurring. I made a vow to God that because He had saved Kechi's life, my family and I would serve him forever. Mike said a big “Amen” to that.

The next time the rescuer called he was impatient. 'Madam, you are not there yet? Your daughter is calling for you. Please rush.”

Mike called his sisters who lived in Port Harcourt, and his friends, and told them where Kechi had been taken. Kate, my sister-in-law called us and told us to hurry. She had been to the hospital and had seen Kechi and was not sure she would be alive for much longer. I had seen the bodies at the airport and knew what to expect.

At this time, I also got several text messages that I now know were from one of the parents telling me to rush to the hospital. Mike said then, “Maybe Kechi is just hanging on to see you one last time; you know how close she is to you”.

I rejected that at once, in the name of Jesus, and told Mike that the God I served would not keep Kechi alive only to take her away. The  traffic  became  so  bad  that  Mike  asked  me  to  take  a commercial bike to the hospital because they were able to weave in between cars and would get me there faster. This was a mode of transportation he usually forbade us to take for safety reasons.

This was not a normal day.

To be continued...

December 10, 2005: Mum's Side of the Story...

Having just finished lunch at about 2pm on that terrible Saturday afternoon, I went upstairs to rest. Chris was already reading something, a newspaper, I think. Then his phone rang and he repeated what he was hearing, 'Daddy pray, pray, pray.' I looked at him and he looked puzzled and worried at the same time. I asked what was happening and he said Ije asked us to pray. I told him to ask for the prayer-point and he said Kechi's plane had crashed! That's all I remember.

They said I was thrashing all over the room telling them I could not take it and that God should take me and leave Kechi. But when I came to, Chris and two others were pinning me down to the floor. I was wailing and was uncontrollable. It was then that I understood what is meant by 'the heart being cut in two'. It was like a saw was being used to hack at my chest or is it heart? Some one came up to say the whole house is filled with people and that we should come downstairs. When did all these people get here? Many more were outside crying and wailing. It was a heart- breaking sight.

Then I heard Chris saying 'if seven people are alive, Kechi is one of them' Then ' if only three people are alive, Kechi is one of them'. The next call was "Kechi is alive." The whole gathering shouted in unison as you hear in a football game when there's a goal!

Then prayers began from every angle the church, the family, friends, strangers, everyone. My life has not been the same again seeing God's mercies.

                                                             

                                                    ...My Mom, Floy Duru's account

To be continued...

December 10, 2005: The Resurrection...

I kept calling Mike to make sure he was okay and to monitor his journey to Port Harcourt. I felt myself coming apart and I needed his strength. My friend, Lizzie and her husband, Jeff called me to sit with them on a bench. I remember asking her if was possible that we were about to bury our children. Meanwhile my phone was ringing off the hook. The news had spread and family and friends were calling to find out if it was true and to pray with me.

Then my phone rang one more time and a male voice asked, “Is this Mrs. Ijeoma Okwuchi?”

“Yes”

“Do you know any Nkechi Okwuchi?”

I said yes, while thinking, what can this be about, at this time? “She's my daughter”

“Madam, your daughter survived the plane crash. She is at Braithwaite Memorial Hospital. Please rush there as fast as you can”.

 I flew up from the bench, screaming, “Did you say my daughter is alive?” Next thing I knew, I fell on the ground. The man was still speaking very urgently in the phone.

“Madam, where are you?”

“By the departure hall”, I answered.

“Please hurry directly to the front of the departure hall. You will see some people wearing blue overalls”.

I took off running. I was aware as I ran that other parents were running with me, praying that their kids were also among the survivors.

My driver, pursuing me, then shouted, “Aunty, see Oga!” Mike had just driven through the gates of the airport car park.

I called Mike, babbling, “Mike, Kechi is alive! Kechi is alive!

Come to the front of the departure hall.”

Meanwhile, the rescue staff asked to use my phone to inform the relatives of other survivors and I willingly gave it to them.

Mike rushed up to me and we both got into his car and took off for the hospital. We were both shaking. I was hyperventilating. I could not catch my breath.

I tried to call Dad but could not reach him. I called Ulo and screamed into the phone, “Ulo, Kechi is alive. Pray. Pray. Pray.”

There was loud screaming in the background and I switched off. I began to pray.

To be continued...