The Biggest Fire
On June 7, 2017, I became one of many victims of the Great Knysna Fire, then the biggest in South Africa's history.
This helped forge me…
I fled away from the flames twice on June 7, 2017.
At the end, 8 dead, 1000 buildings and 16,000 hectares burnt, over R3bn in damage. That’s big in the small tourist town of Knysna which had approximately 80,000 citizens at the time. And that was lucky ‘cause if it had reached us at night, we’d have been doomed.
Still, it was enough to make international TV news, and forever change many of our lives.
3 of the 4 places I had lived in the town got burnt so it was a running joke that the politicians were after me. They were, and my fight against the cover-up became another reason why they wanted to imprison me into silence.
Consequently, I’m not going to speak about the corruption, but simply share my emotional thoughts that I sleeplessly wrote at 3am on the second day of what was to become a long month.
PEOPLE WITH FIRE
“Knysna, the prettiest town in South Africa, will awake this morning to a different world, one of loss and ash on tongues. It is certain that this will be known as the Great Fire or something else of great importance.
Last night, the old and young, wealthy retirees and the unemployed, found equality in survival and the sharing of stories. From Pezula to Karatara, from world renowned golf estates to farmlands, they gathered on Thesen Island. The shocked and brave became refugees in in the Turbine Boutique Hotel. Rules burnt like houses before them. Dogs barked in 5-star splendour whilst those with no money ate for free from the rich menu. Smokers would stand on the pool deck, watching a new fire grow from township to town.
Chris the Manager, kept getting calls. "I can't take 60 people, we're already full... there's people sleeping in the foyer and in the bar... yes, I know there's nowhere to go... I don't know where they'll sleep but I'll take 20." The exhausted would fall asleep everywhere from uprights in chairs to the floors of the conference room, or in the spa, and, if they were lucky, in crowded bedrooms.
For each exhausted dreamer there was an insomniac, defiant with coffee and wine and shared thoughts-
-my house is gone... mine too... no one told us, escaped with fire both sides of the road... yeah, me too... don't know how it happened but I left with only one shoe... I'm in slops... got my wife and the dog... got my laptop... yeah, me too...
It was late that the more general concern became, "What do we do tomorrow?" Diana the Receptionist said, "We're trying to cancel a tour group that was going to full the hotel." Chris shrugged in resignation, "There's nowhere to go, we're not going to let you down, you'll all stay here." A cynic said, "There's nothing left for tourists anyway."
Whilst staff worried if their loved ones were safe, they served those who had lost but were safe.
Whilst dogs peed in the wind outside, rain-splattered with nasty hope - cold and short and gone in minutes. Dog owners noticed many more cars in the parking lot; over a hundred of them, rear seats filled with badly packed belongings whilst front seats home to husbands and wives, retired mothers and daughters...
Humans died with their prayers whilst three schools screamed.
And the wind howled and howled...
Today, the survivors will find out who they really are. Some found out yesterday.
It is now a town for the lucky and unfortunate, the brave and the helped.
Love Knysna!”
LET IT RAIN
Our fire couldn’t make me cry yet I wetten when I watch documentaries about the disaster trials of other people across the world. Mostly for North Americans and and Australians for the simple fact that they’ve made many (and I’ve tried to watch them all).
There must be a psychological term for it but the next documentary is better than a shrink. The latest was ‘Fire Front’, the best, provoking me into posting this.
VISUAL EMOTION
The initial photos are by others, sent via whatsapp during our weeks of crisis. If anyone holds copyright, please contact me so I can remedy.
Our town, with only one main road and a gravel mountain pass, was quickly cut off from the world.
The fire originated approximately 30km inland and quickly reached where most of us lived around an estuary. A second fire began on the other side of town.
The first photo is on the main road near my rented home. The second smoke over the estuary, obscuring a suburb. The third is taken from the point of view of Plettenberg Bay, a town 30km up the coast i.e. our town is on the other side of those flames.
Most of our community with 26 houses was destroyed, and a toddler died on the adjacent property.
The first image below is of the cottage I stayed in.
With the forest burnt down, the second ironically offers a great view of Salt River arcing into the Knysna Estuary (to get to Council meetings, I used to walk across that whether it was ankle-deep mud or chest-high water).
I saw the burnt cars when visiting the backside of the opposite hill.
I’ve never escaped the past, and still miss my town, my greatest love.
What a nightmare! So sorry about the loss and trauma you and your neighbours experienced.
Last year so much of the province where I live was burned by wildfire, and our little region was somehow spared, so I can relate to the fear if not the actuality.
I hope we can collectively manage to restore our systems, and spare ourselves and each other of this kind of trauma.
These disasters seem to bring out the best and worst. Unfortunately way too much of the later. An incredible tragedy. I can only hope I could come through such an event as well as you seem to have.