Kings of The Alps
by Ruwantissa Abeyratne
No use weeping
our yesterdays and our dead do not return
You will always be cold now
Your lips white
your heart and hands frozen in time
Now in the morning beauty
I have nothing to look to
but the frozen rivers of my own mind
and your courage that frigid day
( March 31, 2015, Montreal , Sri Lanka Guardian) It was heartrending to watch the disaster site where Flight 9525 crashed in the French Alps. Images of so many lives – of talented children, youngsters and adults. Particularly poignant was CNN’s reference to those who died as Kings of the Alps. That they will always be, with their memories adorned by the wildflowers of the mountains and the water crystals that flow down in the crisp dawn of spring and weary incantations – of sadness and grief – of thoughts sunk in a quagmire of search for cause. How could it have happened? It is as though a thousand stars reached in flight suddenly burst into myriad fragments of innocent dreams. We search for a cause without feeling sorrow the same way we feel for a flower crushed before its time.
The loved ones left behind will wait no more for the return of their relatives; nor will they ever live the lives they lived before. But they all know that one evil monster does not the world make. So do the 9 million passengers who board aircraft each day for their journeys. By and large the pilots who land and take off the 100,000 flights each day around the world are decent, right thinking, responsible people. The Economist puts it aptly, quoting a passenger of a Germanwings flight the day after the fatal crash last week:
Yesterday morning at 8:40am, I got onto a Germanwings flight from Hamburg to Cologne with mixed feelings. But then the captain not only welcomed each passenger separately, he also made a short speech before take-off. Not from the cockpit, he was standing in the cabin.
He spoke about how the accident touched him and the whole crew. About how queasy the crew feels, but that everybody from the crew is voluntarily here. And about his family, and that the crew have a family, and that he is going to do everything to be with his family again tonight. It was completely silent. And then everybody applauded. I want to thank this pilot. He understood what everybody was thinking. And he managed to give me, at least, a good feeling for this flight.
Lives lost cannot be priced: at least not for relatives and loved ones of those who are taken away. But they are, in the aviation context. In the case of an accident investigation, the liability of the carrier and its servants, which is of primary concern in the instance of eliciting safety related information, is governed by either the Warsaw Convention of 1929 or the later Montreal Convention of 1999 which replaced the Warsaw Convention. Both treaties impose a presumption of liability on the carrier and the former treaty has a limitation of liability which can be lifted in the case of wilful misconduct of the carrier. The Montreal Convention, which has been ratified both by Spain and Germany – the two countries of departure and destination of flight 9525 – has a system of liability that is based on compensation of 113,100 Special Drawing Rights (SDRs) which is about US $ 170,000 . For proven damages in excess of 113,100 SDRs the carrier has the option of proving it had no fault in causing the 17 “accident” or that the 7 “accident” was the sole fault of some third party, in order to avoid payment of the proven damages in excess of 113,100 SDRs. The onus would be on Germanwings to prove that it was not at fault.
Insurance experts have stated that the airline has a reserve of US one billion dollars to pay claims arising out of this accident and that total payoffs may exceed $ 350 million.
Of what use is this money to those who lost their most precious reason to live? Others may say it is time for new life – to start with the freshness of hope and all the happiness that our hearts can take. But to the vulnerable people left behind with the task of carrying on with their lives after such unspeakable loss and grief, life becomes an illusion of gentle faces in cracking mirrors: their images clouded by too many tears. As the cold chill would reappear over the Alps we could only hope that the snow which would once again blanket the mountains would teach us to tread gently and safely into the future.
To those Kings of the Alps – may the doors of heaven open at the sound of your footsteps; may the laughter and joy of simple pleasures felt, follow you through your inevitable journey. May we grieve your loss by consoling ourselves that we have given you back to your maker who gave you to us. May we meet again on the horizon of eternity when our ship finally sails beyond every limit of our sight.
