Someone recollects: The terrifying moment when the Dana plane crashed

by Ahmed Adeyanju

Dana crash

One year after, my personal anguish is lessened by time. Not so for those whose loved ones died. Not so for the aviation authorities and the emergency crew who must be thinking they should have done better. Not so for Dana Airlines, directly responsible for the deaths and injuries of almost 200 people.

Where was I?

At home. I was fiddling with my BlackBerry, cursing its low battery and wishing that PHCN would give us some power. Then I saw the first tweet, and another and soon it became a torrent of tweets with people equal parts anxious and curious about what was going on at the airport.

When the details started filtering in, I was at first bemused at what I thought was another close call that anyone who flies or has loved ones who do is familiar with. Anxiety got the better of me as the figures started rolling in, I turned on the generator and the first scenes on TV were of smoke and wreckage.

All the passengers and crew of Dana Air Flight 992 were dead.

153 people on board and 10 people on the ground, killed in one fell swoop. I couldn’t move, couldn’t do much of anything except stare at the screen without seeing much of anything. Then it kicked in, someone I know might be on that plane. I tried to call colleagues who had been scheduled to travel that weekend, my phone rang before I could reach anyone. It was my colleagues checking in on me.

Relief.

Then I heard that the passengers on the plane didn’t all die when the plane crashed, that there was a lull, several painful minutes when people were stuck on the plane, injured, unable to escape. They must have been terrified. I imagine the horror of the people of Iju who had no idea of the disaster from the skies coming to rain death and destruction in their midst.

“Why did this happen? How did this happen?” These essential questions darted around in my mind even as I wondered if someone I knew was on that flight. “Were there no checks done to make sure that the plane was fine?” “Oh God, I haven’t called my uncle!”

I was in the NYSC at the time, fresh-faced and excited at the optimism of other young people around me. We were looking to change the world, encouraged by the positive turns in the economy. Buoyed by the confidence that the future is bright and filled with joy, I didn’t think that any of my fellow corps members would be affected. We were the future, right? Right?

The morning after, as details filtered in. We got names. Names of people who had hopefully endured a quick death but in my morbid state of mind, I could only imagine them knocking on the airplane window screaming for help that was not going to come.

How does one deal with the thought of death staring you in the face? How does one go on knowing that if only the May Day called that had been placed from the aircraft 20 km from the airport had been more urgently heeded, perhaps there might have been a miracle for some people?

You know, that’s how miracles happen. When people do what they ought to do. The significance of one person’s action or inaction leads to consequences that affect the lives of hundreds of people. The pilot landed the plane on its belly, the plane didn’t nosedive. He did his job as best he could. There should have been a miracle.

The Anyene family, that picture of the mother with her three beautiful children all dressed in glorious white. Adekunbi Adebiyi, my NYSC colleague who I had only seen during community development meetings but had never talked to.

One year after, my personal anguish is lessened by time. Not so for those whose loved ones died. Not so for the aviation authorities and the emergency crew who must be thinking they should have done better. Not so for Dana Airlines, directly responsible for the deaths and injuries of almost 200 people.

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Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.

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