We returned and were ushered into the airport building where we waited. (An airline hostess told me our tail had touched the runway on take off). We were given sustenance as the day wore on and regular announcements told us of progress or lack of it. Eventually we took off again and arrived in Harare 10 hours after the scheduled time.
The saga was a stimulus to reflection and after thinking what if we had spun out of control while in the air? I moved on to thinking what if we had been high-jacked on the ground? But such thoughts were fantasies of what might have been. What really happened was a succession of emotions ranging from excitement to frustration.
When we first did a 180 turn the adrenalin rose as we realised we were in for some sort of adventure, something to talk about and maybe embellish a little – when we got home. But as the hours wore by, individuals started speaking out. One woman showed obvious credentials for a leadership role in civil society by demanding various actions be taken: that a new plane be provided, our money returned, a places in a hotel be booked, etc.
The Kenyan airways official was cool, calm and professional. She just listened but did nothing beyond assuring us that we would be kept informed. And she kept her word. The plane was eventually passed as fit to proceed but the one who should sign the papers could not be found.
When he was found the legal hours the flight crew could operate had run out and we had to wait for a new crew. All was explained. (I once took off from Kinshasa and noticed we continued to have an excellent close up view of the Congo River. It finally dawned on me that this was not the pilot advertising the beauties of the country to us but his inability to gain height. Sure enough we returned to the airport but not a word of explanation was given. We eventually took off again as if it was the most normal of procedures).
In the Nairobi incident there was no danger of us rioting or losing our self control, but there were moments in the day when we wondered if we would ever get home. When we eventually touched down at Harare a cheer went up. If there were vuvuzelas aboard they would have been put to good use.
It was a parable of human reactions. Which would carry the day? The anger and frustration of us passengers leading to some irrational and unproductive outcome or our patience and self control under stress? And on the part of the authorities? Would they ignore us and refuse to take responsibility? Or would they keep us informed and give us what sustenance they could to keep up our spirits?
In the end both sides acted calmly and reasonably. Understanding, patience and good humour won that day. Perhaps it was some sort of microcosm of civil society in action?
Post published in: Opinions