December 10, 2005: As My Sister Uloma's Remembers It...

I was still doing my MBA at Lagos Business School. It was a Saturday morning. First time Ugochukwu was coming home from school and I could not go to the airport to pick him, because I had to be in school.

So Chidi, my husband, went to pick him. I finished my lectures by about 12pm and was rushing back to the house when Chidi called me, asking if I had heard anything from LJC. In my usual breezy manner, I said yes, I knew the children were all back. Chidi said, 'No, no. Have you heard anything from Ijeoma?’

'Ah ah, there is nothing to hear. Kechi is heading back just as Ugochukwu is heading back.' And he dropped the phone.

I got back to the house and noticed that he was very uneasy. And then he told me to call Dad because there was something about Kechi's plane not having landed, and I was very irritated because I did not understand why he did not have the whole message.

But I called Ije anyway, and Ijeoma announced to me in a very uncomplicated manner that 'there has been a plane crash and Kechi is dead'.

I did not recognize who I became. I remember throwing myself on the floor. I had seen and heard of people doing this and I always felt, 'come on'. And then I started rolling myself uncontrollably on the floor around my room, yelling at the top of my voice.

I remember the boys running up to my room. I especially remember Bube, my youngest, because he was the one who asked me, crying already, 'Mommy, what is it, what's wrong?’

I said to him, 'Kechi is dead. Kechi had a plane crash and she is dead'. And so he was the person told everyone that came running up that Kechi was dead.

The first person that came up was Aunty Cook. When she asked me what the problem was, Bube said “Kechi is dead'. Everyone started crying.

I remember Ugochukwu's face. He was so confused. He had just come back from school for the first time and he was so confused. He had left Kechi at the airport in Abuja.

There was nothing left to do. Everyone started calling us to confirm and as if it was announced, everyone started converging in my parent's house in Apapa.

By the time I got there, Nkechi and Chinedu were already there, and in no time at all, the place was full. Even Ngozi Nzekwe, my friend who was supposed to be hosting a party for her friend from the US that day, cancelled the party, and was in Apapa with us.

I'm not sure why we gathered really, except to feed off each other's pain and disbelief and loss. I was on the phone a lot with Ije. I was calling her every two minutes. I really wanted so much to be in Port Harcourt with her. I knew I could not bring Kechi back, but it just seemed so unfair that she was alone there and we were all in Lagos. Even Mike was not with her because she had gone to the airport without him.

We started making plans on who was going to go to Aba the next day to be with Ije and Mike. Mom was a mess, a total wreck, saying all sorts of things that I'm sure she cannot remember saying. Some of them may have been blasphemous, because I remember Dad saying once or twice, 'Florence, shut up!’

I have never seen the display of faith my Dad showed that day ever or since. The man was silent. Before we came he had gone and prayed and came back and was silent. In one of the phone calls Ije had said that there were a few survivors.. This meant nothing to most of us because I just thought 'ah well'. Nothing prepared me for us being one of the survivors and Dad just made a simple statement. He said, 'If there are any survivors in that plane, then Kechi is one of them'. I pitied him that day. I

thought 'Oh poor man, he is still in denial. He does not know Kechi is dead'.

Ije called and said she heard about three woman survived. My Dad said, 'they will think Kechi is a woman because she is fully mature.' He said again, 'If there is any survivor in that plane, Kechi is one of them'. Then we heard there were eight, then five, then three survivors, and at each number, Dad said that Kechi was one of them. The rest is history.

When we got that call……When Ijeoma called and said that they had called her to rush down to that hospital, that Kechi was alive, never have I felt that kind of euphoria. It was like all of a sudden, life started again. But I guess that's what happened, wasn't it? It was like all of a sudden we……O my God.. we were hugging each other, we were praising God, thanking Jesus, praying and praying and praying and praising Him.

By the time we had determined that it was indeed Kechi, Ije had met up with her, it was incredible. Then the journey started. The minute by minute phone calls did not ever stop, I'm not even sure they have to this day.

It was a horrible day and it was a beautiful day all in one. I also remember calling Obinna and I remember when Chinedu said what he had gotten from the Lord concerning Kechi, that she was going to be fine.

Oh, we needed that word…that she was going to be fine. It was the word that we held unto throughout her entire healing process, because she was so touch and go. We did not even realize how touch and go Kechi was until the pictures started coming.

We thank God and we praise Him. God is awesome.

                        My sister, Uloma's account.

The Story Continues...

December 10, 2005: A Day Of Overwhelming Support...

The outpouring of love, concern and prayers that came our way that night as we waited in the parking lot of the Shell Hospital was incredible. Apart from family members, friends from all over the country and all over the world were calling us. People I had not spoken to for more than 20 years were calling me from London, U.S, Canada, everywhere. Everyone wanted to know how Kechi was doing and also assuring us of their prayers. By this time I had called my brethren and church members and everyone was praying. This was about the time I also heard that Pastor Bimbo Odukoya had been in the aircraft.

I also heard that there were so many people at the Shell gates that it was almost becoming a security issue. In fact, while we were there, the Head of Security was called in. The few family members and friends who had been allowed in kept vigil with us, praying with us.

At around 12.30am, 10 hours after the accident, she was wheeled into the ICU and I went with her. She was conscious and I was talking to her, praying over her, reading verses of the bible to her. She was communicating. She kept complaining about the pressure in her hands and legs, and I kept reassuring her that she was going to be okay. I was advised not to stay the night in her room because of the risk of infection since most of her body was open and raw.

We talked with the Senior Medical Officer (SMO), who assured us that they were doing everything they could and a lot depended on whether she survived the night. He came across as a very kind man and we felt that we could trust that he was telling us the truth. We had no idea at the time just how kind he was.

To be contined...

December 10, 2005: As My Uncle Eze Saw It...

 It was high noon in Lagos. Outside, the tropical sun had crested and it seemed as if the world was a furnace. But I was ensconced in a climate-controlled, elegantly-furnished corporate Boardroom in downtown Lagos. Although a Saturday, the matter at hand was serious. My employers had a four week deadline to close an M&A deal or risk going out of business all together. Together with a group of colleagues and consultants, we were furiously working against time and at great odds to make the deal happen.

It was a high octane, testosterone-charged environment as counter parties strove to get the best possible deals for their respective corporations. I was midstream in the course of one such submissions when the persistence beeping of my cell phone compelled me to excuse myself and reach for it in annoyance. As I made to notify the caller to call back at a more auspicious time; I literarily stopped dead on my tracks. To the onlookers, as I would later be told, my facial expressions morphed from panic, disbelief, shock, and horror all in one split second. They were all transfixed and watched as the phone fell from my hands in dreamlike fashion. My hard-nosed negotiator reputation rapidly peeled away as I cried uncontrollably like a baby.

The phone call was from Daddy and he had given me the news as he got it: there had been a plane crash at the Port Harcourt Airport. Kechi and about 60 other school mates of hers had all perished. The news was irrefutable as Ije and other parents who were at the airport saw the plane disintegrate into a ball of fire.

Random thoughts ran through my mind as I grieved. I remembered the day Kechi was born and how her Dad and I anxiously paced the corridors of First Consultant Hospital and the sheer joy that followed her birth. Till this day, Kechi remains the prettiest baby I ever saw. To have watched her grow in beauty, brains and manners and to see her plucked away at the threshold of womanhood was a personal blow, too cruel for me to fathom. Strikingly, she reminded me of Ify, her cousin, another Jewel whose death finds root in our country's intractable inability to place regard and value to the lives of it's citizenry.

But with my Kechi story, the plane crash and the news of her 'death' was the high point of evil, grief and despair. Joy and amazing grace however followed swiftly. A few hours later another phone call from Daddy sowed a mustard seed of hope which incredibly blossomed into a full fledged confirmation that Kechi had somehow defied death and was tenaciously clinging to life in a Port Harcourt hospital. Apparently someone had found her with three-quarters of her entire body burnt near the crash site and in that condition she was still able to give this individual her mum's phone numbers.

That was our reconnection with Kechi and the commencement of her incredible story of God's love, favor and amazing grace.

The Story Continues...