The Other Woman

“Miss, your flight will land within the next minutes.” The BBC had organised a chartered flight to San Francisco as no planes were flying in or out. I looked through our research from London. Thousands of people were dead, thousands more were homeless and thousands more were still to be found.
“I would brace yourself,” Simon, a cameraman the BBC had paired me with mumbled to himself. He must have seen the horror on my face. Picture after picture of crumbled building, or dead body covered in concrete dust, or family member looking for a loved one. “It can get quite difficult.”
“Is there some way…” I trailed off.
“We could help. I wish there was.” Simon had been to every natural disaster in the past decade and I could see that they had taken their toll on him.
As the plane landed, I could see the flattened ground. What once were skyscrapers was flat.
“We don't have any kind of health and safety assessment to cover helping out.” Simon mumbled. Regretful of all those times he could have done something.
“I don't care.” I looked out of the window at the crowds gathering around police cars and ambulances. “I just want to help.”

……
“Here we are” Harry waved out of the window of the 4x4 at the gathering school children. “There are so many people I have to introduce you to” He was like a child at nursery, excited to introduce you to all of his friends. We opened our doors and jumped down from our seats. “This is prince Seeiso.” I held out my hand but was greeted with a welcoming hug.
“We weren't expecting you to come” He was excited. Harry put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me into his side. I was introduced down the line to every single nurse, youth worker and matron from the Thuso Children's Centre.
“I’ve been wanting to visit for years! I can’t really believe that I’m here!”
“We have so many people to show you off to!” Prince Seeiso took my arm and led me towards a set of buildings. “In here, we have our weekly meetings with herdboys about HIV and risks and things like that.” The walls were covered in posters about safe sex.
Piece by piece, room by room I was introduced to everything that Sentabale did; from housing orphans to HIV tests.
“We’re in the process of building a memorial garden.” One of the nurses led me to an area of garden that had been turned over and was full of young trees. “And here we have our mural; everyone who visits will place their handprint onto the wall until it makes a picture.” She explained. I could see it coming to life; the green handprints starting to make wild grass and leaves and trees while grey handprints made elephants and yellow made lions and giraffes. “Would you like to add your handprint?” She asked me.
“I would be honoured.”
“You could put it next to mine.” A small voice said next to me. A young girl had followed me around all morning and hadn’t said a word until then.
“Of course! Why don’t you show me where your’s is?” She pointed to what was slowly becoming the giraffe’s neck. I picked her up so she could point out her tiny handprint. “Is this one yours?” I asked pointing to the tiny yellow handprint with the name Tumi written next to it. “Is your name Tumi?” I asked. She giggled and hid her face in her hands.
….
“As you can see behind me,” I carried on my live report, “the area that once was the financial district is now no more. The area to my right is flat all the way to the north beach. The authorities are now saying that at least one hundred and fifty thousand people have died with many many more still missing. This has now been recorded as the most devastating earthquake to hit the United States in all time. As I mentioned, there are many many more yet to be found and now that we have the all clear from the authorities, the search for those that are missing can start. And now that emergency electricity and telephone lines are in place, those living in the area can be contacted. The number for the San Francisco Earthquake helpline is on your screens now.” Behind me, I could hear a baby crying. The shrill cry pierced through the silence. Being here was hard enough.
“Thank you for that. Rebecca, live in San Francisco.” I was out. I had no obligations. At any other time I would be quite excited to have time off in San Francisco, but I felt like I was watching it all through someone else. I don’t know why I volunteered to go. Maybe I was angry at Hillary for glorifying Clarissa. Maybe I was bored. Whatever it was, I wished I wasn’t there. I was helpless - totally helpless. I wasn’t a paramedic or fireman. I couldn’t move heavy rubble or fix broken arms. I couldn’t bring people back from the dead. I stood in the middle of the devastation; the ground was covered in thick, grey concrete dust.
“What are we going to do now?” Simon, a cameraman who was accompanying me, looked around.
“Do you think we could help in some way?” I looked around. I could see, a short walk away, a cordon with a crowd stood behind a police line. One woman was inconsolable.
“My baby! My baby is in there!” My heart was breaking. I couldn’t move. I was stuck to the spot. I could hear a crying baby. I could hear a crying mother. What could I do?
“I don’t think we should.” Tim, a journalist from another organisation, said. “We’re better off leaving it to the professionals.” He packed up his camera, and headed off towards the crowd. Still, the crying went on.
“I can’t just stand here!” I pulled my microphone off and headed towards the source of the crying.
“Ma’am!” I heard a police officer shout at me. I walked again towards the crying baby. “Ma’am, that’s not safe!” He shouted again. I didn’t care. I had to do something.
“That’s not safe Rebecca!” Simon shouted again. Tim, who had walked away was now running towards me, camera in hand.
“Turn that camera off Tim.” I shouted. This was obviously going to be a bad idea and I would prefer it not to be documented. Was I bold or stupid? One last deep breath and I was there, stood at the ground next to the largest pile of rubble I had ever seen. And the source of the crying. Something inside me twigged. I had to do something.
“Ma'am do not step any closer.” The police officer was getting pissed off. I didn't need to get any closer. The baby was just under this rubble and if I tried, I could maybe save it. I moved one chunk of concrete out of the way to find yet more concrete.
“Ma'am I advise you not to do that.” The police officer was striding towards me.
“Rebecca listen to the man. Don't be a hero.” Simon shouted from where I left him. I ignored them. A few more chunks of rubble were moved until there, wrapped in a blanket, grey with dust, was a baby. I reached for the baby who reached its arms out to me. In almost slow motion, I scooped the baby up and held it to me. I heard a scream from the crowd who had advanced a few yards closer than before.
“That's my baby” The woman screamed. I turned to see her run out of the crowd towards me, tears streaming out of her eyes. I Walked closer to her. The baby had, in all the commotion had stopped crying and looked around with wide eyes. The woman stopped just in front of me, speechless. “You saved my daughter” It was question of disbelief. I just nodded, my eyes filled with tears. I held the baby girl out to her. She scooped her up right away and covered her in kisses. “I don't know what to say!”
“You don't have to say anything.” She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts.
“Ma'am” The police officer who had wanted to stop me, interrupted us. “There is an ambulance just over here.” He directed the woman, who held her baby tight, to an ambulance.
“What did you do that for” Simon joined me. I shrugged.
“I just wanted to help.”