No Strangers to Tragedy...

I had planned to put up a couple of posts describing my trip to the beautiful sea side lagoon region of Bilene on my first weekend here, as well as some of the things of done and experience in Maputo over the last few weeks (like my craft market experienced and ferry boat ride). But considering the events of last Thursday I thought it would be more appropriate to devote my time to describing the tragedy that unfolded.

I was sitting in my office on Thursday afternoon, reviewing project documents and preparing some meeting notes for the following week (the most work I actually have done since I got here). Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. My mind was on the weekend and the coming Portugal vs Belgium Euro 2008 qualifying match, even though it should have been on conceptualizing a donor matrix for my police assistance project. My attention was quickly grabbed by a series of popping noises that seemed to be originating from a distance. The sound was reminiscent of the sound that fireworks make when they burst in the sky. It was strangely familiar to the sound of the rockets they send up during celebrations (religious or community) in Portugal, and so I found it amusing that it was seemingly a remnant of Mozambique's colonial past; much like other practices that have become cross cultural which are quite evident. My first reaction was jovial, and I returned to work. A few moments later a colleague told me that they must be destroying ordinances at the depot 15 kms away. I found it strange that they would do it within city limits, and without any warning, but having already witnessed so many things that do not fit into my frame of logic while I have been here, I just told myself "This is Africa", smiled and continued at my computer. I even sent a light hearted message to Kat about it expressing my amusement. Minutes later my amusement had faded.

Not only had the sound of the blasts become louder, but the windows began to vibrate with the impact of the sound waves. Suddenly a deafening boom immediately accompanied by a shock wave, shook the building and the windows. Car alarms went off, the power went out, and I found myself under my desk. I got up and quickly went to the window, in the distance, as the sound of smaller explosions was still going off, you could see a large cloud rising. It was at this point thatwe recieved the news that the heavy ordinances at ammunition's depot were going off. BANG. Again the building shook. Amazing that the windows did not shatter. Most of us have our desks close the windows, and so people began to refuse to sit at their desks for fear they would be hurt from shattering glass. Slowly people in the office began to call it a day, even though the power had been restored by the generator. Periodically, the building would shake from another heavy blast.

I have never experienced war. I am lucky. I come from a country that has not had a major conflict on its territory for nearly 200 years. I have studied conflict. It was the focus of my MA. I have a solid knowledge of international, regional, and civil conflicts that have occurred over history. I am by no means a war aficionado but I have tried to familiarize myself with first hand accounts of conflicts, and expose myself to footage (documentary and others) of armed conflict. None of this is to say that one can ever prepare themselves for being in a situation where they are within kilometres of exploding heavy ordinances. But if forced to describe what it felt like from where I was located, I would say that it was like being on the fringes of shelling or bombardment from an enemy army advancing on the city. The explosions got louder, the shock waves more intense, and if it were not for the fact that I knew that I was in a safe location (not necessarily out of range of such weapons ordinarily, but when they are going off from such an accident they are rarely project beyond a radius of a few kilometres), I am not sure if i would have remained as composed as I did.

Like my coworkers I to felt uneasy about remaining at my desk, and decided to leave. I would have got a ride with the colleague that I am staying with, Halfdan, but he had gone with a coworker closer to the site of the explosions to see if they could get any more information (my coworker Miguel is project manager for the small arms and light weapons control project, and is actively involved in creating a program for the decommissioning and destruction of stockpiles of munitions). I got a ride home, and made sure to let everyone know that I was alright in case news of the story reached back home. There was a part of me that felt as if I should do something, but not knowing where to turn I decided to keep my ears open for opportunities to assist.

That evening I attended a birthday party of a coworker as I had planned earlier in the week, and while the event was of course topic of conversation, it was not as dominant as I had expected. In fact the only evidence that there was anything out of the ordinary was the occasional siren, the more crowded than usual streets (as people were evacuated from the surrounding areas into the city), and the black cloud that was still in the air. I was quite surprised at how normal the entire situation seemed, despite the indications that this was going to turn out to be a significant tragedy. However, considering that this year alone the country has gone through a similar accident with a depot explosion (with no where near the destructive implications though), severe floods and droughts, two cyclones; added to that a legacy of wars and endemic poverty one realizes that Mozambicans are no strangers to tragedy.

In the days that followed my offer of assistance was taken up and I had the surreal opportunity to visit the main hospital in Maputo to get details on the injuries, number of dead etc. Needless to say it would have not been my choice of role to play. I arrived at the hospital and was ushered in to meet with the head of emergency services. I feared that I might not be prepared for what was awaiting me at the hospital, but I was fortunate not to be witness to some of the gruesome sights of the days prior. There were hundreds of people there, but very few were patients. The majority were family waiting on some news of the status of a loved one, or where they had been taken. Inside I there were more people waiting, some with their heads in their hands, others gazing emotionless in front of them. I could not begin to imagine the horror of what these people were going through.

My meeting with the doctor was brief, as he could not give me official statistics, only passing details that he insisted were not official and were off the record. If I wanted official details I would have to return in the morning to speak to the official in charge of communications. He did mention that the majority of serious injuries that they had treated were for burns and amputated limbs, while most of the cases that came in were for shock and trauma. The only official update he could give me was that the hospital had returned to manageable flow of operations. I thanked him and left and waited outside for my driver. I had to wait awhile as it was expected that I would be there for at least 30 minutes. Outside I felt like an outsider, incapable of empathizing with what the mass of individuals was there for. Two boys, no older than 15 approached me and asked me if I knew where the blood donor clinic was. I said that I was sorry but had no clue; I felt ashamed, and felt a compulsion to go with them and find it (a compulsion I should have acted on). As I stood there waiting I began to read the bulletins on the wall. I quickly realized that they were update sheets with names of patients, their ages, what they were diagnosed with, and the treatment or result. There were several dozen posted along the wall. I began to read through them. What I read nearly brought tears to my eyes. Name after name (some remained unknown) of people ranging from ages as young as 3 months to 83 years of age. At one point there was a string of 15 names where the diagnosis was amputation, some of multiple limbs. There was one girl, unknown, age 7, with two arms and a leg amputated. The gravity of the situation began to settle in. (I know you may consider this graphic but, there are many gruesome details that have been shared with me that I am not going to post on my blog).

During the day the numbers kept on increasing, with this morning totals indicating a tentative number of approximately 100 dead, and over 500 treated in hospitals, with over half of those with serious life altering injuries, and 40 still in intensive care. The numbers are very tentative because there many more unaccounted for. The surrounding areas affected by the explosions are littered with unexploded ordinances. Authorities have not allowed people to return until an effort has been made to clear all those that can be immediately found (i am wondering what happens to those that are not found, victims for another day, exactly why the tentative number will remain so for a long time, much like the issue with landmines which is a scourge that also affects this country, not a day passes that i do not encounter some one with a missing limb). The clearance effort has of course delayed the recovery effort which means that as authorities begin to comb through the rubble they will inevitably find more casualties.

All this is the view from someone on the outside. I can only imagine what I would have been party to had I been on location, or part of the immediate relief effort. And still, I cannot help but think that this experience will have some affect on me. What disturbed me most was the ability to just shut off the real world, come home, shower, and then go out for drinks as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Like so many experiences so far, it was surreal and perhaps to a great extent it's why I feel like I am lacking the appropriate level of empathy for the situation. How is one to relate with state of existence that does not conform with anything that one has experienced in their life time? When I have the answer to that one, I will let you know?