The devastating loss of a good buddy in Kuta
The devastating loss of a good buddy in Kuta
John Aglionby, Guardian News Service, Bali
When the first call came through last Saturday night about an
explosion in Bali I was in a swimming pool with 11 friends
celebrating one of their birthdays. The pool emptied immediately
and we all grabbed our mobile phones, calling friends on the
tourist island to get information.
Nine or 10 hours and no sleep later I'd landed in Bali and
went straight to the morgue at Sanglah hospital. The assault on
all the senses as I walked through the door made me literally
stop in my tracks. Every available space in the four stiflingly
hot rooms was covered in bodies, many burnt beyond recognition,
most wrapped in bodybags and sometimes stacked on top of each
other.
While heading to a second hospital the tragedy took on a whole
new dimension. My phone had been ringing almost non-stop and one
call was from Claire Hatton, a good friend who used to live in
Indonesia and is now based in Singapore with her husband Chris.
"Sorry, Claire, I can't talk now, I'll call you later," I said
and hung up. She rang back immediately. "No John, this is
serious. Chris was in Bali and is missing. He was there for the
rugby tournament."
This time my mind really did go blank. He couldn't be dead,
not Chris. He and I had been eating curry off banana leaves in
Singapore only a couple of weeks ago. "I'll look for him," I
said. "I'll do whatever I can. Call me at any time." This had now
become personal. I did not suddenly become angrier - I guess I
was too exhausted, dazed and confused for that. I just wanted to
do all I could to help Claire.
I got a lucky break when I returned to the morgue and found a
Balinese journalist, Iloh, who said she would call me if she
heard anything about Chris.
Later that night, Iloh rang and said some bodies had already
been identified, including some Brits. "Are any of them called
Chris Redman?" I asked. "No," she replied. "But wait a minute,
there's a Singaporean of that name on the list. He was identified
by his Singaporean Cricket Club ID card."
I took a deep breath and called Claire. I'd never told anyone
a loved one had died and had no idea how to break the news. I
tried to offer what words of comfort I could but I knew I was
being inadequate although, having lost my father to cancer in
June, I too was coming to terms with loss.
She said she would fly to Bali the next day. I went back to my
keyboard, struggling to concentrate. Despite the avalanche of
news, I took time off to see Claire after she arrived. She was
glad she heard Chris had died from me, rather than some anonymous
consular official.
Leaving her was probably the worst point of the week for me. I
felt extremely guilty about just getting up and going back to
work. It was as if I callously didn't care about her and Chris
and was only interested in the story. I had breakfast with Claire
the following day, and we talked about how to handle the press.
This placed me in a real dilemma as Claire and Chris were a great
story - she had been the British Airways manager for Indonesia
during the Jakarta riots in 1998 and ensured 2,500 people got out
safely - that I knew the media would lap up. But we were both
media-savvy enough to realize word would eventually get out and
as she wanted the story covered accurately we decided to do an
interview. I promised I would only file it once she started
getting hounded and editors in London, who have been extremely
supportive throughout, did not argue.
Less than eight hours later, Claire called and said Chris's
boss was already getting calls about him, and her. My next
challenge was how to write the story. Last year I had written an
obituary of a journalist friend who was killed in Afghanistan and
so I thought about what I did then.
The first two paragraphs took 20 minutes but once they were
done it was OK and it proved to be a very cathartic process, just
as writing this article is; it gave a sense of closure and I
hoped it would do so for others.
Since then I have had to move on and it has helped being
incredibly busy. But, surrounded by so many hundreds of grieving
relatives, it is impossible not to think of Chris several times
every hour. Time is undoubtedly a great healer but the "why's"
and the "who's" will last for years.