Mocking Death Mid-Air: A Chilling Recall 

“I looked at him in my misery. I didn’t believe what I saw: He was smiling from ear-to-ear, totally unconnected with what was going on. It looked like he was enjoying himself leering at those that were the loudest in prayers. He looked at me with a devilish grin and declared, “I know what you are thinking, Idiot,” he said in obvious jest”.

BY LUKA BINNIYAT

The trending story of an outer part of Alaska Airline Boeing 737 Max 9 Jet being blown-off thousands of feet mid-air as it carried 117 passengers from Portland, Oregon enroute Ontario, California, rekindles an eerie experience I also had in the air in 2002.

No doubt, it is a freezing, breathless experience when you look down there and imagine that sooner or later you may take a plunge to your certain catastrophic death. I truly appreciate the terrible experience those on board that flight went through and I am so glad it ended well.

In my own case, it was a horrifying experience that scared the life out of me on one hand, and the unimaginable way another man was totally removed from our condition and was even having a good time while the rest of US were on the verge of heart attacks.

We were on board a Boeing plane, about 300 of us in December 2002, as the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) contingent returning from the 2002 annual Christian pilgrimage from Israel. I went both as a reporter for the then The Post Express and also as a pilgrim. By sheer ‘luck’ my buddy in ‘A’ levels, a squatly dark fellow with pale pink lips which lit his face giving him a hint of good looks was the passenger by my immediate left. He left university before me and was soon employed with the FCT in a “juicy” department. In no time, he rose steadily. By the time we were on the same plane he was already on grade level 12. He was very fond of me and we hung out a lot in Abuja in those days. We were in our early thirties.

While in the Holy Land, he footed most of the bills during our outings. But I was the adventuresome one who discovered the right places for our nightly cool offs especially while in Elat, Bethlehem and in Tel Aviv. As a serious reporter, I had a duty to see, touch and smell as much of Israel as I could so that my report could be rich.

(Since I didn’t inform the man in the core of my story that I was going to include his name in my write up, I will just refer to him as X). But it’s a real story.

The plane took off smoothly from David Ben-Gurion International Airport, Tel Aviv. Songs of praise and prayers took center stage. X and I bantered a lot and we joked like we used to, including unholy ones over our visit to the ancient land of the Bible. An hour or two into the flight the songs stopped. Some passengers had drifted into sleep and others engaged themselves in conversation as we flew peacefully in the belly of the giant iron bird. Then there was a clatter over the public speaker in the cabin. It was followed by just one rough cough perhaps to clear the trachea of the speaker and then, “ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry to announce that we have to make an emergency landing in Egypt to fix a minor problem,” the voice said in a heavy Israeli accent.

“Please relax, no cause for alarm,” the voice tried to assure us. But it was useless!

The entire plane broke forth into ‘tongues’ and a cacophony and prayers. There was no time for anyone to lead in the prayers. Everyone was unto himself. After about 30 minutes of flight the same voice announced that we would soon be landing at Luxor Airport, in Egypt, close by the great Nile.

Another fresh bout of prayers started. I overheard a woman saying, “Father, you cannot take us out safely from the land of Israel, just to destroy us in Egypt! No no no no…..”

Yet another one was insisting, “Lord, just as you took the children out of Egypt, we shall never perish in the land of pharaoh,” I didn’t know when I said, “amen!”

Those praying in Yoruba were the loudest, followed by the ones pleading to God in English. I heard Idoma, Igala, Efik and honestly, many other languages I have never heard spoken in Nigeria before, all joined in the fray of prayers as the plane vibrated, dipping low and gaining back altitude.

I was too scared to pray, grateful that there were others that were doing so on my behalf, so I thought. There were a lot of VIPs both men and women, in the flight. Some of them humbled themselves to be in the economy class to show that we were all equals.

For God’s sake, I had just bought a new Honda Prelude car two weeks before that time so I could cruise for Christmas and I was developing a land I had long acquired while hustling. My son Lekwot (Cliff) was not even 4 yet. As for his mother, Endenya (Gladys), she was as pretty as ten movie stars put together so she wouldn’t have problem getting a man – even though my ghost would hound the bast…d to death. But what will happen to Lekwot? He was already showing clues of naughtiness which my mother said was part of the DNA he got from me. Who would tolerate a naughty kid other than his father? And my mother had just been diagnosed with cervical cancer of which I was the one taking her for treatment at the National Hospital, Abuja. I had a lot of plans for my life, but look now, it was going to end, if God did not intervene.

As the plane swerved left to right while engineers were trying to fix the problem, I made a summary of my entire life in a minute and I knew I was never going to make heaven. Even the Holy Land did not scrub me off my entire sins. The Airplane was now hovering over Luxor Airport. It made an attempt to land but, instead took off and flew deep into the desiccated brown mounds of desert hills as panicky voices screamed in terror. It returned for the second time lowering altitude and the cabin was pin drop silent, yet flew back into the desert accompanied by wailing voices of trapped passengers. We were then informed that the problem was the refusal of the tyres to shoot out for landing. It simply meant that when the fuel finished from the tank, a crash was inevitable. Jesus Christ!

As sure as I saw my end coming, I decided that I had to use the remaining minutes to confess my sins and ask Jesus to accept me in heaven. I didn’t plan to see my end this way. As I closed my eyes and made the sign of the cross to say what I believed was my final prayer, X notched me with his elbow and brought me out of my dark reverie. I had completely forgotten that there was anyone like him by my side. I looked at him in my misery. I didn’t believe what I saw: He was smiling from ear-to-ear, totally unconnected with what was going on. It looked like he was enjoying himself leering at those that were the loudest in prayers. He looked at me with a devilish grin and declared, “I know what you are thinking, Idiot,” he said in obvious jest. “You are thinking of the Star beer you will miss when you die,” he said, and broke into a guffaw. Faces full of clear fright and worry peered at us from different directions in strong disapprovals. We were about to perish and this Godforsaken lost sheep didn’t think it mattered. I pondered whether I should pause giving my life to Christ and knock the fool down to help him return to his senses or just ignore him. Well, since I didn’t know how much time I had left, I decided to proceed with my last prayers. I bowed my head to pray again as the plane made yet another detour accompanied by anguished voices notably that of women. X reached out to my ear, “hey, Luka” he whispered, “don’t worry, madam will be fine,” he said as I did my best to concentrate. Then he took the joke to an all-time low, “’C’ (a common close friend of ours that looked like Shaba Ranks and didn’t like to bathe) will take care of her,” he said, swallowing his laughter and putting his hands to guide his face from a blow that would surely come. What kind of cruelty is that? Of all the people on earth – C! (not real name)

At this point I was ready to give him just one punch I hoped would kill him. God would understand when we stand before him in judgement and it wasn’t going to be long from now, anyway. No one even noticed us. There was an impending armageddon!

Livid, I gently unbelted myself just as the plane plunged down one more time as women cried to a high pitch. But this time, there was a loud bang from the belly of the plane which violently rocked it as its tryes finally jutted out. I was on my feet already. Suddenly there was wild jubilation inside the plane as God was praised lavishly. I was demobilized by the development but still angry. And in a few seconds, the plane touched ground and the cabin roared in ecstatic happiness. Instead of punching X, I went for him for a hug. And we laughed very hard.

The plane touched ground around 6pm. We had been flying around and about the desert for almost an hour. To show how serious the situation was, after touching ground the plane didn’t have enough fuel to taxi for 500m. We were surrounded by a battery of fire fighter tanks and ambulances.

Anyways, we later got moved into a hotel by the river. After dinner and over a beer, I sat with X and I told him how unfortunate it was that I thought of him as a human being all this while, not knowing he was a living log of wood with no soul.

“Look, Kindus,” he said; “When I looked around, I saw the Director General of FCDA and his wife, I saw an SSS Director, I saw two Igbo millionaires and other important arrogant big men that usually harass me in the office,” his mischievous brown eyes darting around his bushy eyebrows, as a pretty Egyptian waitress served us another round of Stella beer, the ancient Nile glimmering not far from us.

I said; “so, one day, a time will come that some of these bad men will also find themselves in the same situation with us and weep for mercy right under my eyes”.

He said, laughing and raising his legs into the air. “Boy, I had fun,” he insisted. “Deep inside me, I knew we will make it so, I freed myself from fear so they could see I was stronger than them,” and he looked around, grabbed his beer, moved a few feet and said, “and you too,” and hurried to the bar stand among other guest for safety.

After a while, I returned, trying hard to conceal a grin.

“But honestly the way I saw you in that plane . . . please don’t be angry, I don’t believe you will ever come near beer again,” he said trying to mess me up.

“That’s your ECWA problem, sir,” I replied. “I am a devout Catholic!”