My journey to the aftermath of Cyclone Idai

I have had sleepness nights since then, as the memories now of what I saw keep repeating in my head. I hope to get back there as soon as possible to keep writing and in some way get you the reader, to feel as much as I do the pain and suffering that mothers, daughters, sons and fathers are going through. I pray that our humanity has not been completely been lost as all it takes is one item or the R20 you will spend on something you will not remember in time, to be donated to change another’s life.

I was invited by Mercy Air, an organization that I can only describe as the angels in the sky who were the first responders in the area. Mercy Air pilot John Edward Herbert; Kenneth Gehle, president of the White River Rotary; Mercy Air CEO Allan Luus and Mozambique Aero Club member Gavin Neil were to be my travelling companions. We quickly said a prayer before boarding the Kodiak plane. First stop was Kruger Mpumalanga Airport to get through customs.

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The plan was to carry out a survey of the Save and the Buzi River to Beira. We reach the Save River, which is full of water.
“The river is full, but it is not angry,” says John. We see villages that still have roads and trucks driving along them.
As the plane flies over the Buzi, we start to see some flooded areas.

No more people can be seen around the isolated huts or even livestock. The further we go, the worse the scenario becomes. Trees can be seen uprooted. The rain is still pouring down as we fly towards the coastline. The closer we get, the flooded area becomes massive. As far as the eye can see, there is a wasteland of water. No longer can we see people on rooftops or in trees. As I see this, I struggle to imagine anyone surviving those conditions for a week. I fear the water is cloaking a graveyard of bodies. No photos of the devastation can prepare you for the reality of the situation.

We finally reach Beira, which was the first to take the impact of the cyclone. The force and strength can be seen by the damage it has caused. Ships are marooned on the beach. Most of the rooftops are missing or left as stark skeletons. Water can still be seen between houses in the city.

The intense heat and humidity hits you as you exit the plane. The airport is filled with military aircraft from Tanzania, Angola, India and South Africa, to name a few.  Outside I stand and watch as the Portuguese military arrive. Dignitaries scurry onto the runway to meet them.

Two women from a mission based in the city arrive in their vehicle with two children from their orphanage to fetch the supplies we have flown to them.  Kenneth talks to the women and they tell him where the Rotary’s donations are going and how many children they are feeding.
We take off from Beira and fly to Vilankulo to refuel. We are struck by the stark contrast, seeing the beauty of the Bazaruto Archipelago. If feels like we travelled from hell to heaven. The plane refuels at the airport. Their staff kept the airport open especially to help us.
Once we land at KMIA, the customs officials’ genuine concern for the people of Mozambique restores my faith in the humanity of my fellow South Africans.