Wild wild reef
Karla Heusner
November 6, 2005
She smiled at me from the screen, a striking
blonde, all American Beauty, sitting on the
sand under a coconut tree, an older man and
woman next to her with bits and pieces of her
own face, her smile, her eyes, her hair; a
younger version of herself, but male, on the
far end. Her parents and her brother. They had
come to visit this promising young woman, a
medical student from Indiana, while she was
here working at a southern clinic.
I did not know anything about her until the day
I went to work and learned four scuba divers
were missing. Even then, we were told initially
it was four men. It was not until I was asked
to respond to an email from her brother, that I
found who she was. Still I had no name to work
with, for although his language was calm, in
his fear and urgency, compounded by being
thousands of miles away with no word, he forgot
to include her name in the correspondence. He
was writing as one soul searching for another,
calling out across the darkness of the digital
sea, hoping, just hoping someone would hear him
and somehow she would be the one to type back a
message. Instead, it was me.
His family's hopes, and mine, were raised when
the divers were sighted in the water, on the
last BDF flyover of the day, just moments
before they would have returned to base,
reluctantly leaving the lost ones to spend
their third night in the salty, watery dark.
They had been found! Thank God. They were being
flown to a hospital. I went to sleep relieved
and pleased that this time, unlike so many
other times in this business, there was a happy
ending. That they all would go home to their
loving families, shaken and scared, but whole.
The Belizean authorities and the talk shows,
would deal with the dive operator later.
I cannot imagine their grief when, in the midst
of the euphoria at the rescue, they were told
"We are sorry, but Abby did not make it." Their
anguish was astronomical compared to my stunned
reaction when I read the words of the email
they somehow managed to find the strength to
send me the next morning.
And then, the true revelation of what kind of
people these people are, came in the next line:
"We can only pray for the recovery of the
others." As they were cast adrift and cut off
forever, irretrievably, from their own precious
darling, they sent prayers for her companions.
Buoyed by these thoughts I am sure, but
grieving too, the others did recover physically
enough to be discharged from the hospital and
leave Belize. Abby was discharged from the
morgue; she too flew home.
There will be arguments that because the four
of them left the boat of their own free will
when it was experiencing engine trouble, that
perhaps the owner and operator is not to blame.
But I suspect that if he'd had a radio, a
better anchor, even a charged cell phone to try
and get help, they would have not lost
confidence in their captain and tried to swim
to the caye still in sight, especially after he
informed them "Next stop Jamaica." .
I suspect many of us who consider ourselves
strong swimmers might have made the same
decision, especially after the frustration of
seeing such incompetence and resignation to
"fate." They might have made it too, if the sea
had not been so rough due to hurricane Wilma's
proximity , and the urging by the Port
Authority to stay in safe harbor. If the dive
shop cannot be prosecuted, perhaps the Port
should look into legislation making it not just
foolhardy, but an offense to take passengers
out when such warnings are up. If a captain
wants to risk his own life, that is one thing,
but to jeopardize others and the industry.
Many of us, particularly those in the tourism
industry are probably gratified to see the
shop's license revoked and the recommendation
of a lifetime ban for the two men who ran the
trip. We all know that while it will not bring
Abigail Brinkman back, at least these two
people will not be able to take anyone out
again, without serious reprisals.
But at the same time, those who feel there is
no thrill without risk--whether operator or
visitor--need to be reigned in. Just because
someone in a group of travelers thinks weather
warnings or local rules and regulations are not
meant for him and not about to ruin his holiday
this does not mean the local vendor should be
accommodating. No matter how much the tourist
is willing to pay. For as we have seen, the
costs to someone in that group may be far more
than anyone bargained for. The ultimate
responsibility must lie with those who own the
business.
The sloppy maintenance, the cavalier style, and
the "we jus di hustle" attitude extends beyond
the tourism industry. Belizeans all over this
country, who ride some of our buses, some of
our water taxis, and take some of our tours,
are seen as nothing more than sources of
income. Not people at all. We are just paying
passengers to the unscrupulous. Again, the tone
is set by the owners, who, some might argue
take their cue from national leaders. But that
is another column, for another time..
How often do we Belizeans find ourselves in
risky situations because the people we trust to
get us from one place to another do not take
care of their equipment, drive too fast and
recklessly or do not have enough safety gear or
communication equipment?
Life is cheap in Belize, way too cheap. We must
make it far, far more costly to play with
people's lives. All our lives. I am sorry I
never met Abby. I understand she loved Belize.
Perhaps she loved it enough to consider coming
back to practice medicine here. But we will
never know how many lives she might have
touched. All we know she lost hers somewhere
between Silk Caye and Glovers Reef. And she
won't be coming back . That is unacceptable. Or
it should be...
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