Tomorrow, Today.

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I initially wanted to write this post with seething anger.  I was ready to unleash all my frustrations and lambast Dana Airlines- ripping into every inner working of the company to tie it into yet another symbol of the giant problem within Nigeria; a level of ineffective governance that seems to be never-ending. 

  Why do Nigerian pains matter for short moments?  Each time, we are always collectively outraged, but impotent in action.  We grab our heads in bewilderment and despair, bemoan the newest transgression, and then move on.  How many times can you poke at a bee hive before getting stung?  When are we waking up? 

I keyed in the web address for Dana Airlines, and immediately, the first page only served to refuel my anger.

"Our thoughts and prayers are with the families of guests who were involved in the Dana Air mishap on Sunday June 3, 2012."

‘Mishap’ gini bikonu??  Doesn’t a mishap connote triviality or carelessness that can easily be waved away?  

“Remember, that time I forgot my can of soda in the freezer and it exploded?  Wasn’t that mishap like, totally leotarded ??” 

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 Before getting even more hot and bothered with annoyance, I looked up the word.  Webster Dictionary defined it as:

1: an unfortunate accident

 2: bad luck :  misfortune

 

I also polled a few people, asking how they defined and utilized it.  Most, listed variants of its definition.  All agreed that it represented a casual misfortune of some sort, that severely failed to reflect the magnitude of a plane crashing into a residential building, exploding into flames, killing all on board, as well as, innocent people on the ground. 

  

Note to Dana Airlines; as you define the mechanical situation, please acknowledge the gravity of the lives that were lost.  Deeming a catastrophic event as a mishap is insensitive and careless.

Semantics aside, I clicked on Obituaries, and I watched as the names of the passengers slowly scrolled upwards, and disappeared off the screen.  It took a full five minutes and nineteen seconds, for a full revolution of 153 names.  When it reached the 11th name, Ahmed Inusa, my chest had began to grow tight and my breath started to catch.  I didn't personally know anyone on that flight, but still...

As the names continued onwards, I noted the 53rd name, Faysal Inusa, and I thought gloomily to myself, 
'damn... brothers'.  

One hundred and fifty three moving names can be somewhat hypnotizing, and midway through, my eyes started to glaze and I began to drift.  I wondered about the stories of these people.  I imagined small children who were still learning how to use their inside voices in public places, chattering loudly in their seats, and old grandmothers, who were probably wooed onto the plane, with a stream of reassurances, about how thrilled their families would be to see them once they arrived at their destinations.  


I even remembered a particularly tumultuous flight to Atlanta. The plane kept falling through air pockets, and with each sudden dip in altitude, I would shut my eyes and slowly count backwards from 50.  I’m not particularly afraid of flying, but I know that a lot of us experience moments of irrational fear, where we imagine all the things that could go awry.  We rationalize away our worries, trusting that all will be well; however, I do wonder whether any of Dana’s passengers also trusted that the pilot would safeguard their lives.  What about the people on the ground and in their homes, who also died?  The idea of air travel within Nigeria, would’ve been an extravagant luxury for them, and yet, they were still subject to the same horrific fate.

One week later, here we are.  Most of the dead have been recovered, some have been buried, and Dana Airlines has had its license revoked.  Mr. President, Goodluck Jonathan, publicly shed tears and declared 3 days of national mourning.

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Awesome.  Now what? 

The literal irony here is that the weight of the plane crashed onto poor residents, the same way that the weight of the rich, in Nigeria, is unsustainably being held up by the poor.  People of different ethnicities and sociopolitical attachments, bound together, nonetheless, all suffered the same exact fate. 

Sometimes, I just dey overwhelm for Naija sha.

 May the souls of all who were lost on June 6, 2012 rest in perfect peace.