Dasen Thathia: My journey to Beira
All that remains of a road in Beira after Cyclone Idai tore through the region.
Disaster response team, Rescue SA, left South Africa by road on March 13th - ahead of the cyclone’s landfall - with a small team of highly-skilled professionals and their equipment.The Kosi Bay border post closes at 5pm sharp. Along with KZN-based rescuers from IPSS, we made it through by the skin of our teeth.Team member Paul Herbst stepped up, offering us space in his SUV for the rest of the trip.
But that was a mild breeze compared to what the storm was doing to the port city - only we didn’t know that at the time. With that, the regular Twitter updates, live crossings and news packages I’d been providing came to an abrupt end. Paul’s limited playlist came in handy here - and, with a soundtrack comprising of The Cranberries, Eminem and Black Coffee on repeat, we stared blankly as the road ahead disappeared under the nose of our car.
With the kitchen closed and everyone too fatigued to unpack our supplies to cook, we settled in on the carpeted floor and fell asleep on empty stomachs. We were among the first - if not the first - TV news crew there. And we couldn’t share this with the world. All cellular networks were down.The lack of communication channels also meant our loved ones didn’t even know if we’d survived the trip.
As we pushed our way to the front, cameras in hand and rain beating down, our hopes of finding signal were washed away. I don’t believe any one of us slept peacefully that night. No, it wasn’t the hard floor, or the rain and wind noisily threatening to dislodge the loose roof sheets above us. Images captured on Paul’s GoPro showed sadness on their faces. On the one hand, there was a chance to live. On the other, it meant leaving behind meagre possessions which they’d presumably taken a lifetime to collect.In the meantime, I had my own challenges to deal with. We had a TV story to put out, one that was going to serve as an SOS. But how?
They were a friendly group, and when I heard they’d be flying out to Maputo that afternoon, a lightbulb flickered above my head. I would somehow convince them to take our video files, and send it to our studio.The package was hastily prepared, with a crude set of instructions on how to transfer it, along with a contact number for one of our technical gurus at eNCA.
An emergency wi-fi connection had been installed during the course of the day - but, with the number of people trying to get pictures and video out, it was reduced to dial-up speeds. Rescue South Africa team members were forced to collect rainwater for bathing during their stay in Beira. Little children were playing in the smaller puddles surrounding the tower. They smiled and waved at the strange man dressed in rain gear and gumboots, who was wading through almost-knee deep water and filming on a cellphone.“We’re taking them to a place of safety in Dondo,” he told me.With babies in their arms and suitcases on their heads, many were reluctantly leaving the rubble that was once a village.
I walked into a hub of activity, with rescuers assessing and feeding the bewildered patients. In the background, our familiar SANDF Oryx helicopter was making its presence known. As it kissed the runway, so began yet another deeply patriotic moment for me. As smoothly as a choreographed performance, the Rescue SA team picked up children, one by one, and led them to the bigger group. The frail were helped along, while others, still wet, stumbled out of the metallic, camouflage-coloured bird.
“The weather wasn’t good,” the pilot explained. “If we had stayed up, there was a risk it would have pushed the helicopters towards each other.”By 1:30pm, it was time to try again. Head down, I ran towards the Oryx, its massive rotor blades starting a windstorm. Rescuers led the first group into the helicopter. Dripping wet, they crawled in with their belongings. They were silent.
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