My passengers and I got safely out and away from the burning aircraft, and we only stopped running when we thought we would be safe from any explosions. Maybe we had watched too many movies.
As I looked back at the burning aircraft, I noticed that the people from Miseleni village were swarming towards the wreck, attracted by all the noise and strangers ‘dropping in’. We were a safe distance away, but they wouldn’t be if they got too close. I shouted to them in Kiswahili “Rudi nyuma! Rudi nyuma!” (Get back. Get back)!
I asked one of the young men to collect buckets, or karais (big dishes) so that we could attempt to use sand to put out the fire around the aircraft. Being February, it was the dry season and the bushes were very dry and flammable.
In no time at all the villagers arrived with buckets and greatly assisted in putting the fire out. Fortunately the burning fuel and oil had gone downhill, away from the aircraft.
With the fire almost under control, I crawled back into the aircraft and took out the fire extinguisher which I used that on the still-smouldering wing leading edge. I also removed our cool box of drinks together with my flight bag, medical box and the passengers’ personal articles.
I did not know how long we would have to wait to be rescued. We were in the rural countryside and not much traffic would be coming along this road.
My last radio contact had been with Nairobi Approach, but I had made no further calls once we had crashed on the road. I had switched everything electrical off and was loathe to switch anything on again in case of a spark.
My passengers were great. They all shook my hand and thanked me. I asked my passengers if they were okay, and I saw that one of the men had a deep scratch on his left shoulder. He allowed me to clean it with Dettol and put a gauze covering on the wound. It was starting to sink in how lucky we all were.
We set up camp on the side of the road and waited. After a long an aircraft arrived and circled us. We all waved madly, as did all the friendly Miseleni Villagers. It flew around us approximately three or four times and then headed back to Nairobi.
After four hours of waiting, I heard a vehicle approaching and decided to beg a lift. I ran out into the road and the driver stopped. He was a friendly man call Musyoki and he had no passengers. His vehicle was a pickup with a weatherproof cover on the back and a passenger seat.
I asked him if he was heading for Nairobi and could he give us all a lift. He agreed and so I put one passenger in the front and the rest of us climbed into the back. I asked him to take us to the nearest police post as I needed to let the authorities know so that the aircraft could be guarded for the Kenya Civil Aviation Authority to inspect, and hopefully determine what had caused our engine fire.
The nearest police post was Ol Donyo Sabuk. It was very small with just a constable manning the desk. I told him that I had come to report an accident. He looked at me querulously as my right cheek had started to swell and my right hand knuckles were raw. I guess I must have looked as if I had been in a fist fight. When we crashed one of the radios had popped out the avionics stack and hit me on the cheek, and my right hand on the throttle had been forced violently forward.
The constable asked me about my vehicle and I explained it was an aeroplane. The policeman said that he had received a message via VHF that we had all been killed. He added that a police Land Rover had been despatched to the crash with body bags, but it had overturned and two of its passengers had been killed.
At any rate he was very happy to see that we were alive. We made short work of a statement and continued our journey back to Wilson Airport, with Musyoki as our Captain.
We had got airborne that morning from Wilson at 0530Z (0830 local). When we walked back through the doors of Air Kenya it was 1630 local. A long day for all of us.
The Operations staff, Valerie Ellis and Lynnette, couldn’t believe that we were real. “You must be ghosts. They told us you were all dead,” they said.
They were really happy to see us and organised a first-class payment to Musyoki, the van driver, for his fantastic help.
One of our other pilots, Paul de Voest was in the Pilots Room and came out the moment he heard us. I got the biggest and best hug ever from him.
Paul organised us much needed sustenance and provided calmness. He took care of the passengers. He tasked Val Ellis to ask them for Statements, which they were happy to give. Tea, coffee and sandwiches, whatever was needed, was laid on. The passengers were naturally also keen to get back to their family and friends.
When I was ready to explain what had happened, Paul sat me down and wrote my CAA report out for me. All I had to do was sign it. But this took time – and a toll on my nerves.