Back in 1992, during my first UN mission for UNDP, in Angola, I was tasked to manage the UN aircraft fleet deployed at the largest province of the country – Moxico – whose capital was the City of Luena (former Luso, during the Portuguese times).
We flow to Luena in a small twin engine King Air servicing the UN. Upon arrival, the pilot said I should wait at aircraft apron for someone to recover me and take me to the UN house in town. After having said that, he closed the door and taxied out of the ramp for a rolling take-off out of that place. The wide ramp was absolutely deserted; no aircraft and no people, for the exception of a kid holding a can in his hand trying to collect some wasted aircraft fuel.
Since it had been a very long flight I was desperate to urinate and, following the airmen standard procedure, I left my luggage in the middle of the tarmac, moved out of the paved area into the grassy grounds, unzipped the lower end of the flight suit and satisfied “nature’s call” turning my back to the aircraft apron.
That was when the child approached the limits of the tarmac and yelled very agitated:
– “Mister … mister … You have to return very carefully, and always step on the grass tufts.”
I was no more than 20 meters away from the kid; I finished the “job” zipped back the suit and turned to the child asking with a smile:
– “I’m sorry … why should I return very carefully … and always stepping on the grass tufts?”
– “Tché?! – Said the child incredulous with my ignorance – “Because that type of grass doesn’t grow on top of land mines … dâa!”
At that moment my (idiot) smile felt down to the ground, and I had the sensation that those short 20 meters had just tripled. All of a sudden I had the need to urinate again. I was inside the layer of terrain that had been mined, in order to protect the airfield. I simple forgot that the place was in a dormant civil war, and all my normal movements/actions should be reconsidered according to that different reality.
The challenge now was to overtake those 20 meters. The grass tufts seemed to have grown apart leaving lots of potentially mined reddish soil in between them. There was cold sweat running down my back and a lump in the throat. I inhaled deeply and studied the soil between me and the tarmac and recognize the footsteps printouts of my flight boots. Using grass and footsteps I managed to return safety to the tarmac. My heart rate was extremely high and I was breathing very heavily.
While I was thanking the child for warning me of the danger, the UN people meant to recover me showed up. When I explained what had just happened to me, I got the simple statement:
– “Yeap … we have to put some warning around this place … eventually. Welcome to Luena”; you’re going to love it here!”
Lesson number one – “Upon arrival to a war zone, ask first piss after”.
OPen samento 