Memoirs of a Worker

Bad Events in Bangi

Sometimes we are placed in situations and locations where we would rather not be. The timing and events in Bangi fall into these catagories.

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On my first trip to Africa to work on US Embassies, we traveled to Ndjamena Chad, Bangi Central African Republic and Khartoum Sudan. Bill was raised in Puerto Rico, Chimp was from Pittsburg, and Sang was born and raised in South Korea. He immigrated to the US when he was in his thirties, and became a citizen. He spoke very broken English and when he got excited he spoke very limited English mixed in with lots of Korean. I was from (and still reside in) Idaho.

Bangi was a tough place to be in when we were there. No government employees had been paid for several months, so they formed a nationwide strike to protest. The strikers also closed down most of the private businesses, including restaurants and hotels, so the public would honor the strike and show loyalty to the strikers.

Bill, Chimp, Sang and I flew into Bangi at dusk. The driver who picked us up told us about the strike. He drove us to a small hotel in the middle of downtown, but drove into the service entrance. He said it was for our safety. The clerk at the front desk said we could stay for one night but warned us not to bring any attention to ourselves.

Early the next morning the hotel owner rushed up the stairs and pounded on our doors and shouted, “Get out now while you’ve got a chance! Don’t worry about your bags, just get out and hurry!” Then he ran back downstairs.

The four of us appeared in the hall at the same time. We heard all kinds of shouting going on downstairs in the main lobby. As we ventured down the stairs we were greeted by a mob of about 200 men who filled the lobby and overflowed into the street. They were all armed with machetes and were shouting and yelling at the owner who was trying to calm them down.

The mob was so agitated that when they saw us and realized that the hotel had not honored the strike, they shouted all the louder. The hotel owner moved out in front of them and raised his arms up in the air trying to get their attention. Then someone swung a machete. The owner screamed and fell to the floor. When he hit the ground, he looked at us and simply said, “Run.”

The mob was crazed with rage, and dozens and dozens of maniacs started chopping on the poor man. We could do nothing but run, and run we did! We didn’t get far when a van pulled alongside of us and slammed on the brakes. A door opened and a US Marine shouted, “Get in.”

Apparently the hotel owner called the American Embassy and told them we were in danger and needed help. That was his second to the last act of valor. The last, was standing in front of the mob, acting as a buffer until we could get out of there.

The marine took us to a small, little hotel well off the beaten path and told us we’d be safe there for a couple of days until accommodations could be provided for us elsewhere.

Later that day some of the marines delivered our luggage to us. They told how the hotel lobby looked like a blood filled war zone, and they said there were just small pieces of what they thought were the remains of a dead man in the middle of the floor. I had never been exposed to such acts of barbarism before this trip. In Bangi, I witnessed mankind at his worst, but I also witnessed the greatest act of heroism a man can offer.

Because of the strike, the strikers had “convinced” the local electrical municipality to honor the strike and only give intermittent service. The second hotel we ended at, only had electricity for about two hours per day and it was disrupted at that. For dinner, that first night, the hotel manager also turned into the cook. He took our orders and told us that it would take some time since he would have to cook outside in the rear of the hotel.