Worth by Bharti Dhir

Author:Bharti Dhir [Bharti Dhir]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2020-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Escape

We were ordered to disembark, to stand in line on the hot tarmac and wait. Having never been on a plane before, I believed this must be part of the normal routine when it came to flying – just like it had been each time we took off, flew for a few minutes, then turned around and made the descent back into Entebbe. You think you’re free and safe, and then the procedure starts all over again as you’re forced to return, only to undergo yet more checks, more soldiers.

Eventually, we were ordered back onto the plane and, once again, the neat queue on the tarmac became a disorderly rush for seats in the aircraft cabin. With no seat allocation, it was mayhem – parents frantically calling and searching for their children and partners so they could sit together for the long flight. My Mum, panic-stricken, ended up losing my youngest sister, Mina. Mum had given Mina to Shankerdas to look after when we were waiting to get back on board with instructions to hold her hand and not let go. I was carrying Shiv and Anju was holding Mum’s hand.

In the desperate rush for seats, Shankerdas had had let go of Mina’s hand and we realized Mina was missing when Mum came to check on us once the melee had settled, just when the plane was about to take off again. Mum was beside herself – hysterical, even. The stewardess was shouting at her to take her seat, but my mum wouldn’t listen, frantically calling for Mina and asking Shankerdas where he’d left her and when he last saw her. Mum yelled at the crew that they couldn’t possibly set off as her daughter had been left behind.

But the airline staff were firm: ‘We’re leaving and we’re leaving now, with or without her.’

Mum eventually located Mina, who was sitting with strangers right at the back of the plane, completely oblivious to our fear that she’d been left behind. Mum marched her to her seat next to us, grasping her hand tightly. There would be no more disappearances – or so we thought.

We took off twice more, only to land once again. The second and third time, soldiers came aboard searching for a particular passenger, whom they arrested and marched off the plane. No one knew whether those passengers were to be imprisoned, tortured or shot. But whatever was destined to happen to them after being dragged off, it was too hard to contemplate right then, especially after what we’d been through when we’d first arrived at the airport when going through security. We’d been stopped and Mum was wearing her gold jewellery, having been told by the taxi driver on the way to Kampala not to stow it in the suitcases. Apparently, the soldiers would have killed us if they’d found it, believing we were trying to smuggle things out of the country, so Mum had been left with no option but to wear it.

One of the soldiers,

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