FROM LEFT: That's me, burned down house focused.
FROM LEFT: A house damaged by fire, a room ransacked
FROM LEFT: The walk back to the camp, a burning SUV
FROM LEFT: Bed turned upside down, luggages scattered outside
FROM LEFT: Another car burning, doors broken
July 10, 2009
None of our workers came. Quite strange, so I phoned the local foreman to find out why. He said the gate was blocked by strikers. They couldn't get in. The unemployed villagers of Loulo and its neighboring villages staged a strike in protest for new the mining contractor's move to hire strangers instead of considering them first.
It was a long day for me, doing helping job to a boiler maker cutting flanges.
July 11, 2009
It was raining. Despite this and the absence of my men I came to work. At around 9 AM 10 of my men arrived. The night before the military managed to disperse and pushed the strikers back to the village.
We proceeded to work hoping that others will arrive. An hour later one of my men received a call that the situation in the village had worsened. The strikers had regrouped and became belligerent beyond the control of the outnumbered gendarmes and police. The pipeline conveying toxic waste to the tailings dam was punctured by saboteurs. And the crane sent out to fix it was burned. The expat supervisor in charge of the repair was attacked but luckily escaped. His chin was hurt when the windshield of his pickup was smashed. I came to think this one was genuinely serious comparing it to the previous strikes that the company had resolved without any property damaged.
The workers were told to go home for fear that the ire the strikers might turn to their families for their insistence to come to work and not symphatizing with them.
I too asked permission to go home. Though my mind was trying to picture the situation as manageable I was also thinking of the possibility of a flee if things would turn ugly. I hitched a ride on the Honda Fourtrax (a 4WD all-terrain bike) of a Filipino colleague even if it was illegal to carry a passenger. I even didn't wear a skull guard. At that moment no one was worried of safety anymore.
At home I packed my valuables and medicines into my backpack. I was getting tensed and fidgety. I opened the curtains to see whats going on outside. I saw vehicles arrived and people running to their rooms. Then I heard the successive shots gunfire like war has already commences. I got panic. I hid in the toilet and peeped outside. I phoned home and was crying in fear of a violent death. My family were worried of me too. Not knowing what help they can offer and how. Their voices helped me to calm down.
I ran out of my room. One hundred meters away a house was already burning. The shout of angry people was terrifying. I went to the house of that Filipino colleague who brought me home. He too was wary of a coming attack. He put the kitchen knives ready at hand in case of an assault.
We decided to get away with the Fourtrax. We were joined by another terrified Filipino. And all three of us speeded away.
On the road we met my local worker who couldn't go home to the village because the gate was stormed by strikers. He was reluctant to leave his motorbike and just ran away because it's not paid-up yet. Thinking of me still in camp he got worried and decided to fetch me there. That's when we met him.
To ease the load of the Fourtrax I hopped into his motorbike with my backpack. Together we rode in convoy up to the hill (a stockpile where the crusher was set). The Filipino colleague saw the general manager's vehicle went to that direction so he presumed its where we would assemble. We didn't find anyone there. Our fear grew of the thought that strikers might catch us there.
We rode back down hoping to see any friendly faces. Not a chance, the plant was ghostly quiet. We decided to go to the underground. On the way we met a vehicle with French expats. They told us that no one was there (perhaps, they too were also lost) and that the rest of the expats were assembled at the mining contractor's place. We turned around and followed them.
At long last our ordeal was over. We were rejoined to the group in safety. We embarked on a big truck that's converted to a bus and joined by other Filipinos. I sat there exhausted and hungry, waiting for whatever instrucion from the organizers. It was almost 1 PM.
I was thinking of the things left in my room: my $300 Samsonite suitcase that I bought in Nairobi airport, Nike sneakers, clothes, digital BP monitor, Wahl clipper and other things. I regretted not bringing them for they too are important to me. But then, I thought those were only things...it can be replaced....my life is more important. I should be thankful instead for surviving this ordeal unscathed.
After an hour we departed but to the direction of the plant. We all disembarked and each one of us was given with a 1-m reinforcing bars. "What's this for? An arm?", I said. What can a reinforcing bar do if the strikers were armed with guns and bolos? Anyway we continued walking, tired and hungry.
Afar we saw not only one column of smoke but several ones. I was getting worried of my things lest our block was one of those burning. Luckily it wasn't but it didn't escaped from the hands of the looters. My door lock was broken to pieces. My things were scattered on the floor. The fridge was forayed and emptied. My closet too.
I lost my decent clothes, digital blood pressure monitor, alarm clock (an object of sentimental value), and other little things. My precious suitcase was left outside, emptied of its content. I was so happy to see it again in good condition. My shoes and clipper was strategically hidden in the closet that it wasn't seen by the looters.
Some of our colleagues lost everything including passports to fire. Some lost their laptops, cellphones and jewelry to looting. I am still lucky. Those whose houses were not touched were luckier.
Seven houses were damaged by the fire and 10 were looted. A Grove crane and several vehicles and motorbikes were also lit to fire.
I will never forget this horrifying experience. An historical event of my life.
