A week ago Friday, I had just laid down for an after-lunch
rest when I heard my next-door neighbor Steve at our door, his voice frantic.
“Where’s your fire extinguisher?”
Luke showed him where it was, and he was out the door as I
was emerging from the bedroom, wondering what the emergency was. One quick glance out the door and I could see
it was bad. Flames were shooting out of
the storage room of Steve’s house next door.
In the U.S., you’d pick up a phone and dial 9-1-1 then stand
back and let the professionals do their job.
But there’s no 9-1-1 here. I
thought briefly about trying to stretch our water hose to their house, but I
could tell by the size of the flames that it would be worthless. David grabbed a bucket and ran next
door. I ran closer to the Richards’ home
in time to see Jodi and their two kids emerge, walking calmly through the yard. Steve came out of the house and threw down
the fire extinguisher, which had proven totally useless.
I got out my phone and called our MAF program manager, Mike,
and quickly told him what was going on.
David had just run out of the Richards’ house and asked to talk to him.
“Mike, we’re not going to put this out.”
And then I realized we would be watching a house burn down.
Earlier in the day, the power had gone off, as it frequently
does. I suspect it's because I had decided to do a meal in the
crock-pot that day. What’s up with me and the crockpot? Every time I use it,
it’s like I’ve called the power company and said, “Hey, mind turning off our
power all day? Awesome, thanks.”
So I had turned on our generator at lunch time so the kids
could use the toaster, and to give my crockpot some time to come to life and
simmer. Apparently the Richards had also
turned on their generator and were just finishing their lunch when they noticed
the power went off. Steve went to check
on the generator and was met with an inferno.
Our yard became the safe hangout for kids. The hordes began arriving – curious Papuans,
other expats, our MAF guys loaded to the gills with fire extinguishers, even a
few of the local drunks. Everyone wanted
to help, but the fire quickly raged out of control.
The Richards’ house was part of a duplex, and one of the
oldest buildings on Pos 7. Constructed
from ironwood, it dates from World War 2, and was one of the first houses used
by missionaries up here. The other side
of the duplex was a guest house for two families currently on home
assignment. Acting quickly, many helped
to empty the other side of the duplex of its furnishings before the fire
reached it.
It’s worth noting that I am probably NOT the person you want
with you in a crisis. I try to do my
best to hold it together and do what needs to be done, but what I really want
to do is crawl into a fetal position and cover my head until the crisis is
over. I’m wimpy that way.
After my call to Mike (my major contribution to the
firefighting effort), I stood on the sidelines and offered drinking water and
wet towels to the men battling the fire.
I don’t know how we got through with no major injuries, but thankfully
we did.
Eventually a fire truck did show up. I don’t know who tried to call them, but I
heard that the number they used was out of service, so I think someone had to physically go to the fire station to report the fire. And there are no fire hydrants here, so once
the truck is empty of its water it has to go back down the hill and get
more. So time-consuming.
Workers from the international school came over with a water
tank and hose, and they seemed more efficient than the fire brigade. Eventually, I think everyone saw that efforts
to stave the fire were hopeless and we stood and watched it burn to the
ground.
Through the afternoon and evening, people kept stopping by
to take a look, to offer sympathies, and to shake their heads at the sheer
devastation.
Amazingly a few items were saved from the Richards’ home:
their refrigerator, tv, and stove got pushed out in time, and when Steve sifted
through the ashes the next day he found some of Jodi’s jewelry as well as some
ceramic Christmas decorations.
But that’s it.
The Richards have had a phenomenal attitude through it
all. The expat community has been
wonderful in reaching out to them, providing food, clothes, and household
items. They are starting over from
scratch. If you’d like to help them, you
can go here to donate.
