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earth.
When the blast rocks the quarry, it sends shock waves several
meters away. Loose stones tumble down hills and raise more
dust as men rush in a panic into the cave. There is pandemonium
everywhere.
“Arre, get some water, hurry!”
“Has anybody called the ambulance Somebody call the
ambulance!”
“God, what peril is this! Surely He is testing us!”
“How many are inside”
“Don’t know. Here’s the water! Don’t go in there just like
that! Here, cover your mouth. And watch your step!”
“This is the fourth blast in eleven months! But that tyrant
will still insist on making men work here! May God rot his ancestral
tree!”
“Arre, has anybody taken a head count yet”
“Here come the paramedics, thank goodness!”
“Quickly! Let’s hope some of those poor buggers are alive.”
“You! Go with these doctors. Doctor, don’t breathe too
deeply, okay There may be a lot of gas still in there.”
Hours pass. Families are huddled in terror outside.
Makeshift stretchers from hastily gathered rags are laid out on
the ground. Helpers are standing by at the ready. Small children
run around yelling and playing, unaware that there is something
wrong. The news of the mishap has reached the ears of the media
and a few camera crews with their ubiquitous large microphones
are gathered around like flies attracted to carcass. Now and again,
important looking well-heeled men and women mutter into their
lapels in grave and hushed tones. Some meters away, a scrawny
kid with a bleeding lip peeps out with a mixture of fascination
and horror from behind an old tree. There is not much activity.
Everyone seems to be watching, waiting.
Eventually the men emerge. With broken steps and sagging
shoulders, the black layer on their faces struggling to cover
the pale fear underneath, they carry limp bodies slung over like
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