I NORMALLY WEAR A sensible pair of comfortable shoes when boarding flights, so I don’t have to unlace and lace them up again through security checks.

For once, I followed the lead of my young adults and used ‘Crocs’ – those rubber sandals – for my last trip out. The footwear stood out for me because at some point during flight UR713 I realised I needed to strap them up tightly in case … we were going to crash.

Up until that point, the thought was not real.

Going backwards, the morning we left Uganda I had randomly discovered the TV series ‘Nine Bodies In A Mexican Morgue‘ and watched the first episode.

On the flight itself, I caught up with another series – ‘The Last Frontier‘.

Both involved air crashes, so perhaps my mind was primed for bad thoughts.

On the flight itself, I stopped thirty minutes into the fourth episode of ‘The Last Frontier‘ and went to sleep – out of character, like the Crocs under the seat in front of me at the time.

I awoke to an awkward feeling and the word ‘premonition’ on my mind. A couple of minutes later, even as I was trying to work out why that word was on my mind, I had the sensation that the pilot was doing something different that I could not explain.

And after a while I realised we had started a rapid descent.

It wasn’t a free-fall drop like you see in movies and on TV, but we were pointed downwards and moving at such a speed that I had to sit up a bit more straight than before.

The cabin crew seemed to be going about their duties normally, which was easy since most passengers seemed to be asleep. 

Going about their duties normally, though, by shutting down the food service and avoiding eye contact. I had earlier opted out of dinner but asked one of them, Sharon Nakirya, to keep me a glass of juice – tropical juice.

At this point, I half-heartedly tried to catch her attention to ask her one question: “Is this normal?”

(I did not get to speak with her colleague, Linda Kamwine, till we met again on the rescue flight but she was just as hard working and eye-avoiding!)

Watching them at work, though, I knew the question was redundant.

And just as I realised that, the plane jolted suddenly and violently.

I have experienced turbulence before. This could have been a version but, again, that feeling at the back of my neck with the word ‘premonition’ from earlier was discomfitting.

The sharp jolt awoke more passengers, and by this time I was looking out the window and marvelling at how clearly I could make out building arrangements on the ground by their lights.

I could tell that the pilots – Capt.Tonny Tebajanga and his Co-Pilot Capt. Joshua Opio – were doing a lot to keep the plane steady even as they deliberately dropped height and then tried to regain it.

Never having done a single hour of flight lessons, I remained humble and tried to recall the emergency procedures while listening out for the command: “Brace! Brace! Brace!”

Thankfully, it never came.

But at one point, we were so close to the ground there was no mistaking the difference between housing estates and industrial ones as the plane swept down and back up again.

That’s when I strapped my Crocs on, and reached across the aisle to ensure I could reach my laptop bag easily in case we made it to the ground in sufficiently good health for follow-up (read continuance of life).

The pilot, Capt. Tonny Tebajanga, knew this was time to make an announcement, and calmly informed us we needed to turn back to Johannesburg as “the plane has suffered a…crack.”

In between prayers, I smiled, because I knew he had already turned back and was about to get there – WE WERE ABOUT TO GET THERE.

I suspected, on reflection, that Purser Shawkan (very appropriately linked to GRATITUDE) Kayongo had been keeping him posted as to the mood in the cabin.

They managed us well. 

Many passengers only woke up to how dramatic it all was when we had landed in a remote corner of the O.R. Tambo International airport, being received by lit-up fire engines.

The first persons to board the aircraft were fire fighters, who had a brief chat with the crew and then withdrew to secure the area before we were allowed to disembark.

Down the ramp, I got to speak with Capt. Tebajanga, as he looked up at the aircraft windscreen and gave thanks to God.

I did not know him from before, but our brief chat told me he was modest, God-fearing and very humble.

He has flown for just over fifteen years but is clearly a serious Ugandan. I have spoken with a few other pilots since then and they consistently marvel at his experience – it has not come to many of them.

The next morning I shuddered to think what would have happened if less serious people had been in control.

You all know what I mean; you ALL KNOW who I mean.

A pilot who takes his or her job of piloting a plane with seriousness saves lives.

A taxi driver who takes his or her job of driving a vehicle saves lives. 

We – YOU and I – need all the people in those jobs  around us to Be Serious.

But what about other professions? A plumber who takes his or her job being a plumber? An electrician? A journalist? A lawyer? 

It doesn’t matter – we need them all to Be Serious. We realise it even more starkly when we see the ground coming at us and need to strap on our Crocs just a little tighter, but we shouldn’t wait for that.

Let’s all be like Capt. Tonny Tebajanga of Uganda Airlines and his entire crew.

Let’s Be Serious and make Ugandans proud of things Ugandan.