Whenever I hear stories of fire outbreaks, it doesn't really hit me. Yes! I do sympathize with the victims in the story, but it never occurred to me that I would experience it one day. This incident is one I will never forget.
It was the early hours of 1st July 2017, a cool Saturday morning at Girls' College of the Beatitudes, my alma mater. A prestigious boarding school nestled on the outskirts of Saminaka, a bustling town.
The time was 5:45 AM. Students quietly marched to the chapel for morning mass, while the matrons trail each hostel to make sure that the seniors who normally dodge morning masses are fished out to attend it. The normal routine for Saturday morning was unveiling, everything seemed normal.
Then it started, quiet and unnoticed. The fire grew quickly, feeding off the forms of the mattresses, blankets and mosquito nets of students. Before we knew it, thick smoke rose to the sky curling up like black magic against the faint blush of dawn.
Fire fire! Fire fire! Someone screamed running barefoot into the chapel. Everyone was scared and everywhere was in chaos, students rushed out and ran to the hostel compound even when we were told to remain calm. Sadly, fire services were far from our reach, so the fire could not be controlled easily.
A cry for assistance echoed beyond the school. outsiders came in with their buckets of water diluted with detergent. The fire by then had spread to the other hostels. Buckets after buckets were passed hand to hand to our security guards and some men who tried to quench the fire. However, it fought back with fierceness, consuming everything in its path.
Just when we thought we've seen it all, another shout came in that one of my senior a calm one at that is sick and weak and has been in the hostel. The second person, Anna, my friend's younger sister was in one of the hostels too. Wait! St Louis, that's my hostel! my bunk is just across hers.
Fear gripped me , my body became cold just by the thought of loosing someone I know and I'm fond of, I started shedding tears. But miraculously, they were rescued unscathed and moved to the hospital.
By afternoon, the hostel compound looked like a battlefield. Ashes floated in the air, iron buckets laid blackened, the once proud and lively hostel now loomed like a haunted witch’s den.
We were all tired and shaken. We sat in groups whispering about what happened. Our belongings got burnt, except for the two hostels that survived and the uniform check we wore to mass.
The principal, Rev.Sr Esther Shimfuo Mallam dislocated one of her hands. I think she fell while helping to give out water. She stood with red eyes, heavy heart and shaky voice as she addressed us briefly.
"We thank God that no lives were lost, but this is a wake up call". She thanked everyone for putting out courage, strength and cooperation in quenching the disaster.
Investigations later confirmed that the fire was started by a final year student.
Though the fire left a scar, for years afterwards, students there, students to come would hear stories of it and students like myself that experienced it, would remember that early morning, the screams, the glow of fire and the strength of unity.
I've learnt that unity and collective effort matters (teamwork) and one needs to be prepared cause even the calmest second, minute or hour can turn chaotic in a heartbeat.
Thank you for stopping by.
