A Bad Day to Fly

The weather has been fine all day, but close to zero hour it gets hazy, and it starts to drizzle. Worse, it is also raining in Bauchi, the destination of the 15-member mission to the North-East Zone. In other words, it is a bad day to fly, particularly in a 17-seater prop engine aeroplane that is so light it is prone to getting tossed around in the air.

Zero-hour is 3 p.m., but weather conditions make take-off impossible. Half an hour later the situation has not improved. Indeed, it is getting worse: the drizzle has turned into a light shower, and Easy Link Airline officials advise that the flight be rescheduled for tomorrow morning. However, the Health Minister, Prof. Eyitayo Lambo would have none of that.

“We must get to Bauchi today; we have firm appointments to see the Governor and the Emir of Bauchi. If we don’t see them today, then that crowds our schedule for tomorrow; it could also affect the schedule for the rest of the week,” the minister reportedly reasons. In his mind, he adds: “The Lord will take control.”

“Then we have to wait for the weather to clear up a bit,” officials advise.

“OK, we wait,” Lambo says with a tone of finality. In his mind he continues to pray for a turn-around. There must be a dramatic improvement in the weather soon otherwise the flight will have to be rescheduled; at 6 p.m. the airstrip in Bauchi will close for the day.

Around 3.45 p.m., the weather in Abuja is still not too good for flying, but then you can take off while it is raining. So a half-dozen umbrellas are found, and one after the other, officials escort members of the mission into the aircraft, which is waiting oblivious of the rain about 200 metres from the VIP Lounge of the airport. While the passengers are boarding and their luggage is being loaded, the rain stops rather dramatically. The pilots start the engine and run it for a while. The captain realizes that his passengers are curious that there is no movement and the cabin is getting stuffy. He explains that the aircraft has a little too much fuel, and it has to be burnt so the plane can safely take off; he continues to run the engine for a while. At 4.16 the aircraft begins to taxi onto the runway.

While taxiing, the lone cabin crew, Rita, makes the usual pre-take off announcements: fasten your seat belts; remain in an upright position; the flight will take 55 minutes…

“Kai, 55 minutes!” Laide Shokunbi is alarmed. He had hoped the flight would not take more than 30 – 45 minutes. He mutters a prayer under his breath as the plane gathers speed for take off. Beside him is Siju Alabi, Health Correspondent and Newscaster at Channels Television, Lagos. She is apprehensive. “I’ve never flown in an aircraft so small,” she says.

“Oh well, you’ll tell me your experience when we get to Bauchi. Emm…” Shokunbi almost adds a warning, but decides against it. “No point frightening this lady, he tells himself.” All the same he tells her that as a reporter with The Guardian in 1999 he covered the Vice President’s election campaign and flew with him from Yola to Abuja in a near-identical plane. Before then he had flown several times in the Fokker 27 prop engine that Nigeria Airways had so many of in the 1970s and 80s. F27 is much larger than this, but the experience could be similar if not identical.

The plane lifts off, and in the twinkling of an eye Abuja is underneath and getting farther and farther away. Most of the passengers who had been chatting all fall into silence except for talkative Ayo Osinlu, the Minister’s Chief Press Secretary. He continues to joke as is his wont. Dr. Bola Olowu, a Deputy Director in the Federal Ministry of Health, picks up a newspaper and begins to read. Before long, the plane shudders as it runs into some clouds and loses altitude a little. For a moment, it is as though the plane is going to drop out of the sky. Fear leaps into many faces. Siju Alabi’s jaw drops. The unspoken question is: Are we going to drop out of the sky?

Alabi breathes a little better when she is told that because of its low weight and speed, a plane this size can be tossed around as it moves through clouds, but whatever, there is no cause for worry. “Is that so?” she says. “Sure.” Alabi shrugs and chatting resumes. The plane runs into more clouds and seems to move from side to side like a toy plane hanging by a rope and getting blown around by a strong wind.

Behind, Mrs. Otsemobor, also of the Federal Ministry of Health, bends low in her seat. As she explains later, that is the only way that the bobbing and weaving of the aircraft would not cause her to pass out. Her partner is Ibanga Isine of The Punch, who keeps laughing and assuring her that there is nothing to fear. Mrs. Otsemobor at some point accuses him of being insensitive the way he keeps laughing. Much later, Isine confesses that he was just as scared as everybody else, but could not afford to show it lest she compound Mrs. Otsemobor’s problems. Up front, just behind the cockpit, the Minister is calm and resplendent in his blue agbada. It is as though nothing were amiss. But he must be praying, too.

Eventually, the plane gets steady and the public address system crackles to life. The captain apologizes for the rough ride so far and promises to make it a little less uncomfortable by slowing down to a speed that would make the ride less bumpy.

“Slow down ke!” Shokunbi retorts in his mind. It should be better to speed through the clouds. That way, the drag of the clouds would be compensated for, and in any case we will get to our destination faster. But then, the captain should know better.

The Captain continues: “The weather along the direct route to Bauchi is not particularly good because of rain clouds, so we shall go through Jos and then head into Bauchi. Because of the detour, we cannot tell you how long the flight would take at this time. We shall let you know as soon as we can.”

An animated discussion starts over the time issue. The flight was originally to last for 55 minutes, somebody offers. “No, 45 minutes,” another cuts in. “No ooo, 65.” OK, Rita, what did you announce? “I said 75 minutes.” Seventy-five minutes! Meaning: the flight could last 2 hours. The bobbing and weaving continues intermittently.

The PAS comes alive again after what seems like many hours. “We are almost overhead Jos now…” Some passengers look down and see the landmark rocks, as well as the ditches and ponds that are the relics of tin mining on the Jos Plateau. Moments later, the plane goes into a session of giant bobbing and weaving and continues to do so endlessly. It drops and rises again, and continues swaying from side to side. Then it shudders and drops for what seems like 10 metres. The men who have been trying to calm the women lose what remains of their masculine calm.

All along, Dr. Olowu had been reading her newspaper or pretending to do so. As the flight gets more and more rough she drops it flat on her chest and goes to sleep. Behind Olowu, Maureen, a Radio Nigeria reporter has covered her head with her snow-white handkerchief. Her eyes are shut, and it is as though she is sleeping. But the truth is that she is in dialogue with God. She must be saying a thousand Hail Marys or something. On his part Shokunbi is saying the litany under his breath: Jesus Christ, son of God who took away the sin of the world, have mercy upon us…”

The plane gets into more ‘potholes’, and Shokunbi shifts gear: “Have mercy on us; have mercy on us...” Alabi and Shokunbi grab each other for succour. Otsemobor hides her face the more. Isine’s laughter dies out. Fred, an NTA cameraman looks back, a smile on his lips. It is a rather sour smile. His brown eyes are glazed over. Later, he confesses he was actually “a gonna.”

Eventually, the plane gets out of the potholes in the sky and the flight becomes less turbulent. The captain speaks up once more. He apologizes, saying the rough flight is one of those things people have to put up with in this part of the world because the system is so inadequate: “You never know what to expect until you get up here!”

The rest of the flight is almost uneventful, but every now and again it gets rough and bumpy, but never as much as it did over Jos with the passengers looking down as if they were going to drop on the rocks. Soon, the Captain announces the approach to Bauchi and begins to descend. The touchdown is flawless, and the passengers burst into applause for what somebody says must be compensation for the rough flight. The aircraft taxis to a stop at about 5.45 p.m., and the Captain announces arrival at the destination. Again, he apologizes for the rather bumpy flight that had taken about 90 minutes!

The passengers disembark practically into the waiting arms of their expectant hosts, officials of Bauchi State Government, who had been waiting at the airstrip for some time. Within 20 minutes, the visitors and their luggage are arranged into waiting vehicles. The long convoy then leaves for the palace of the Emir of Bauchi.