17/7/97

A bridge Down Under

    "They looked like damned souls trying to escape from Hell."
    Joanna London was there. She was at the summit of the adjacent bridge, on the way in to the stadium, when she heard that ominous sound. "A crackling,  like wood splintering. My son and I turned around, then we looked at each other and said no, this isn't happening. This can't happen.
    "Then the bridge started to give and everyone on it stopped. People tried to get their footing, and grabbed at each other and at the rail, and then it collapsed.
    "They were opposite us, at a distance of the width of a one-way street. We watched, and couldn't believe it. No, no, it can't be...
    "Just minutes before, the atmosphere was incredible. People were walking along the paths of Hayarkon Park toward the stadium. People from all over the world -- and everybody was Jewish!
    "The atmosphere was so happy. I never felt anything like it. Everyone was singing, laughing, joking. There were people from other countries who'd learned to cuss in Hebrew and they were cussing each other, it was hilarious. It was like being in a Jewish heaven for a few minutes.
    "We then went up on the permanent bridge. The one they'd built for the athletes was beautiful -- blue and white with flags all over. We got to the summit, and the Australians were just going over. It was completely covered in people. I said to my son, 'look at this, we get the crappy bridge, they get the good stuff.' Then we heard it."
    Joanna, 41, of Ashdod, had left her younger son Ronen at home -- he's a Maccabiah gymnast -- attending the opening ceremonies with Sean and his friend Andra Levi, both 17.
    "It was one of the few times I've ever seen so many people feeling so happy," Sean recalled the next morning. "They were singing and laughing when we heard the crack. It was like from a comic book, a big yellow KRAKK!!, you know what I mean? I remember thinking, oh, no, there's no way this bridge is going to fall. It only happens in the movies. And then it happened."
    Joanna finds it hard to believe, hard to forget. "We ran down to help people get out of the water. I stood on the banks; my son went in, and we started pulling people out. Then the soldiers and police and ambulances started coming.
    "People were totally hysterical, they couldn't remember their names, they didn't know what to do, they were screaming, and there was nobody there to take care of them. All the efforts were for the injured."
    Rumors fed the panic. Four dead, six missing. Israeli dead. Terrorism. Sean himself feared that he'd started a dreadful rumor.
    "There was a man walking around aimlessly, on the verge of tears. We offered to help him," Joanna recalled. Sean thinks his name was Phil Sacks; he was looking for his wife Betty and a relative, Jill Diamond.
     Eventually, Sean said, he found a coordinator, "he looked a bit like Dustin Hoffman. He had started a list of people who'd gone to hospital. He said he had seen both Betty and Jill. So I passed on the word that they were OK. People hugged each other, and hugged me."
    But then he found out that no one had actually seen Betty. Sean was horrified. "Mom, what have I done, what if she's not OK?"
    "Then, on the way home, we heard on the news a broadcast of a woman's phone call home to Australia, and they told her they were watching it all on TV, and they said, 'Oh, we can see you on the bridge -- and right behind you is Betty.' Only then did we know she was OK."
    "The person who died was almost at my feet," Joanna recalled with a shudder. "When they pulled him out I didn't realize he was already dead. I pulled someone over and said he needs help, he needs help.
    "At 2:30 in the morning, it suddenly sank in that he was the last to be evacuated. If somebody's in such bad condition, he'd be the first person they get into an ambulance -- if he's still alive."
    The sights and sounds were unforgettable -- even the smell. "Everyone smelled of rotten fish," Joanna remembered. They were covered in mud or silt, and their hair was dirty."
    Sean turned the memories over in his mind.
    "A lot of women were sobbing, crying their eyes out. One woman was out of control, down on the river bank, her hands scrunched up in front of her chest, and she was screaming 'I'm not moving until I see them, I'm not moving until I see them.'
    "It was getting darker, harder to see. The Australians were going wild because they didn't know where everyone was. They were scared witless for the junior athletes; no one could seem to locate them.
    "A man who looked shell-shocked said he had to 'stick around to see if they pull any of my friends out of the river.' 
    "The man who died, I saw his eyes rolling around, he was barely seeing people, he was trying to move his hands.
    "An older woman, maybe 50 or 60, was wailing 'I think I broke my toe, I think I broke my toe.' Then she started wailing: 'I think I broke my toe, I think I broke my shoulder.' She had no idea what was happening. She didn't even realize she had a massive cut on her forehead, maybe a concussion.
    "There was so much confusion, even bus drivers forgot where the parking lot was. Soldiers looked lost.
    "People were still being pulled out of the river when the fireworks went off."
    "We could hear Hatikva," said Joanna, "and we said in disbelief, they're not going to go on with the show! We saw fireworks, balloons, a laser show. But everyone stuck in that area was saying that it's better that way.
     "I think it was handled beautifully. Although it's horrible to think of people singing and dancing while others are hurt and dying, it's still the best thing that could have been done, and I admire the way it was handled."
    Sean felt embarrassed to be an Israeli. "I was walking around apologizing to people. I felt personally responsible because it was negligence. I don't know how I could live with myself if I'd built that matchbox bridge.
    "The most offensive thing I saw were the [news cameramen], they were disgusting. A curly-haired burly fellow insisted on being let in while rescuers were desperately trying to pull people to safety.
    "A bit later, a woman, not knowing if her husband was alive or dead, found him. She ran to him and they burst into tears, hugging each other, and all the Australians gathered around, back-patting, and suddenly this other photographer pushed past me and went into the middle of them and shoved the camera up into their faces. One of the Australians said to him, 'You! Fuck off!' And the photographer actually laughed in his face. I asked him to leave them alone and he said to me 'who are you, you want me to slap you across the face, you little pisher?'
    "The photographers, all of them Israelis, were actually laughing at what had happened, making jokes about the bridge. People asked them if they have no shame."
    Sean's friend Andra, an Ashdod model who immigrated from Romania 10 years ago, was supposed to be part of the show, leading the American team into the stadium.
    "It was a big disappointment for the 45 models, because we were preparing since 9 a.m., getting our makeup and hair done; we were on our feet the whole day. It should have been very exciting for us.
    "But we didn't want to go on stage, we didn't think it was right. There was a horrible argument among the managers about who should perform: I think they were thinking about their money.
    "Some people behaved strangely. People were trying to keep their morale up by laughing and telling jokes; I started crying and some woman came to me and said 'oh, no, don't cry, your makeup will run.' Like I cared!"
    Joanna, too, cared about more than runny mascara. "It was an incredible Zionist atmosphere, of Jews from all over the world coming together for something in common -- happiness, and not sorrow, for once. The whole thing, in one second's time, went from elation to disbelief to total despair."
    During the sad trek back to their car, Sean looked up at the blase sky. For a moment, he contemplated the nature of things, then spoke his thought: "How dare the moon rise after something like that."