Day of beauty, tears and death

Paul H. Williams, Gleaner Writer

A youth with a mystery illness, a woman who keeps cancer cells at bay by drinking soursop leaves and bark concoctions, and the impact of the closure of the Fern Gully road on craft vendors were the items on the St Ann assignment agenda on Wednesday, May 25. The interview with the youngster was heart-rending and teary. That with the cancer survivor was uplifting and full of hope. But, the events of the day took some very unexpected turns.

There were no vendors in sight at the entrances to the gully. On Breadnut Hill, to where the Fern Gully traffic is diverted, we chanced upon a 'reincarnation' of Nat King Cole, Donnavan Turnbull, who called himself 'Junior Cole', and who sang for The Gleaner news team, over a pile of naseberries he had for sale.

At a spot, along the Llandovery main road, which was being bushed, we saw an overturned pickup truck in a ditch. We joined the scores of onlookers, and watched the driver, who escaped unscathed, remove his belongings from the badly damaged vehicle. He told The Sunday Gleaner he felt fine, as he walked back to the main road with his bags.

On the way back to Kingston, it was a fairy wonderland that we found ourselves in, when we stopped by a seaside property called Hermosa Cove Villa Resort and Suites, to do some background check. The place, a juxtaposition of eclectic, classy, man-made structures with nature, is beyond compare. But, it was the double rainbow that rose from the sea and arched across the tower of the restaurant that looks like a medieval castle that made my heart stand still. I was enraptured, and wished to remain that way forever.

Unprepared

Yet, at the end of the tour, in the soft raindrops, I was totally unprepared for the sight that eclipsed everything that I had hitherto gawked over. It was a little hummingbird sitting on two eggs in a nest made of silk that it got from a huge cotton tree on the property. The nest was constructed on low palm fronds at the entrance to one of the villas. I left shortly after. This was too much of a dream.

Some minutes after 9 p.m., as we travelled along the Mandela Highway, we saw many parked vehicles, and people scurrying towards a spot, several chains away from Hydel Group of Schools. Upon reaching the spot, we saw a rear light of an overturned vehicle. I told the driver to stop. I jumped out with my camera. There was a white car partially submerged in a canal. I gasped. Onlookers stared, looking for any sign of movements; some shouted, asking what happened. Their voices were loaded with dread, and the air pregnant with anxiety.

The crowd grew. A haulage truck reversed and turned across the road, its rear facing the overturned car. The driver sprung out and grabbed his pulley chain. People gathered around the truck. The chain was attached to the car. After two failed attempts to pull it from the canal, the car finally emerged. Then, there were shouts as a man appeared from the murky waters. But, it turned out he had gone in in a rescue effort.

Vantage point

In my attempt to get some good shots, I stepped away from the road. Then, I felt something wet, and by the time I knew it, I too was in the canal waist-deep, and going farther down. I released my sandals, held on to my camera, and reached for the embankment. I felt grass. I held on tightly, and with all my might I heaved myself from the quagmire. People rushed towards me, asking if I was in the car. I shook my head, laughed, and moved towards it.

It was now surrounded by several people. I fought for a vantage point, and found one, only to see a man tugging something from the car. He backed away and pulled. Through the window came a listless figure of slim build. The body crumbled to the ground. More shouts, more gasps. With lights shining on him, you could see he was breathing slightly. "Him a breathe!", "Him nuh dead!" the relieved crowd shouted.

A JDF soldier and another man went down beside him and began to administer CPR. They blew and pumped, blew and pumped, as I clicked away. No response, but he still breathing slightly. Then, the looks on the faces of the men giving assistance told it all. They released him, and stood, saying there was no pulse. Onlookers were stunned.

Belatedly an ambulance appeared on the scene with blaring noises. I looked at the lifeless body for a while, then turned off the camera. After speaking with the driver of the haulage truck, 40-year-old Patrick Beale, and the man who attempted the underwater rescue, 46-year-old Glen Edwards, I walked away from the day of laughter, tears, beauty and death, barefooted and dripping.