The tragedy of Alcafache

  

O PASSAR DO TEMPO (CRÓNICA) - PAULO REIS

In 1997, Macao became to small for me, at the time Editor of a Portuguese daily newspaper, "Gazeta Macaense" and for the last Portuguese Governor of Macao (also known, in the British Media of Hong Kong as "The Last Plunderer of Macao"). I had been honoured, since 1995, with the label of "Public Enemy Nº 1" of Army General Rocha Vieira.

After being jobless, a outcast and a pariah among the Portuguese community for two years, I decided to went back to Portugal, probably until December 1999, when Macao would be handed over to China and I was sure it would be safe for me to return, as the small territory would enjoy a more democratic and free way of life, mainly for journalists that dare to not follow the dictates of General Rocha Vieira – a man who just was not able to understand some simple and basic concepts, that existed in Europe since the the Storming of the Bastille, 14 July 1789 - not even with the help of a drawing. 

A good friend of mine, a female journalist also working in Macao, coined a funny phrase to define General Rocha Vieira peculiar way of ruling Macao: “Um regime de bota cardada e tropa na parada” [“A carded boot regime, where everybody should lined up like soldiers at the barracks parade”].

It was a difficult decision, to go back to Portugal. I was married for two years, had a one-and-half year old son, but in Macao I couldn't find work, not even at the local garbage collector company.

I went to Portugal on June 1997 and start to work at the daily “A Capital”. On June 7th, 1998, Ansumane Mané, Chief of Staff of the armed forces of Guiné-Bissau, was dismissed for allegedly smuggling arms to Casamance separatist rebels in Senegal. Next day, he started a military rebellion against the President, Nino Vieira and it was the beginning of a bloody civil war, with something very traditional among people of that country: cutting the head of dead enemies and keeping at home, on a special place, usually on a shelve in the living-room, as a war trophy

On May 7th 1999, Nina Vieira was deposed and Ansumane Mané became the strong-man of Guiné-Bissau. Two weeks after the rebellion started, I convinced the Editor of “A Capital”, Helena Sanches Osório, to send me there. That is a chronicle I will publish, soon. Until than, my career as a journalist was made on the political field, with the exception of the reporting, for 12 non-stop working hours, of the biggest train accident in Portugal (more than 50 persons killed, around 200 injured) at Alcafache, near Viseu.

I was working at “Radio Renascença”, as Editor of the 4'clock to midnight news shift. At 6h54, I was inside the cabin, ready to begin the 7'clock newscast (18/20 minutes) as “pivot”. After the “beep” of 7'clock, there was a “jingle” of 3 seconds, I opened the microphone and said the standard phrase (in Portuguese..): “Good evening, Radio Renascença, 7'clock news” and turned off the micro, while 2/3 “jingles”, advertisements, went on air. I switch on the micro and start to read the first phrase of the first story, when the journalist at my right side poked me strongly in the arm and pointed to the window, behind where was the sound technician.

I was sitting with my face to the wall, the window was on my left side, so I turned my head to look at it, while keeping the sheet of paper in front or my eyes, never stopped reading. Gave a very quick look ate the window and our colleague Inês Dentinho, jumping and very agitated, had a A/4 sheet paper against the window.

I had a quick look and read a few words, in a 10th of a second, without stopping reading the news. The words were: “Big train accident Alcafache Viseu + 30 dead”. Just made quickly switch, as soon as I finished the story I was reading, and gave the news of the train disaster, stressing that we will be following the accident, as soon we had more information.

When I get out of the news cabin, around 7h25, it was decided that I should go to Alcafache, 300 miles from Lisbon. 15 minutes after that, we received a phone call from the Prime-Minister's office. Mário Soares, several ministers (Health, Interior and so on) where leaving to Alcafache in 25 minutes and invited a journalist from each one of the 3 national radio networks to go with him.

We left Lisbon at 8h30 and arrived at the place of the accident, a train line 500 meters from the road, around 11h00. As I walked through a pine forest, I had a very strange sensation. It had summer shoes and felt the ground hot, 300 meters from the place. The two trains had a frontal collision, there was a big explosion and a fire, for more that one hour.

I followed the Prime-Minister and recorded his talk with the head of firemen services who gave him a detailed report. I looked to my watch and I realized I had 8/9 minutes to find a phone, call Lisbon and either record 1 or 2 minutes or go direct, live, on the midnight news – there was no mobile phones, in 1985. I saw several young man, in the road where the Prime-Minister's convoy of cars stopped, with their motorcycles, just looking at a distance, because the area was cordon-off by police. I talked to one of them and asked if he knew where I could find the nearest phone boot. 

There was one, 2 miles from there, in a 40-people tiny village. It was a private phone, at the local grocery store. I told him I was a journalist and asked him to drive me there in his motorcycle. 5 minutes after, we were knocking at the door of the home of the owner of the grocery store. He was already sleeping, but was very helpful. Two minutes before midnight, I was dialling the direct number for the news room.

After the midnight beep, the pivot transferred the news to me. I went on air, live and I was the first journalist to made a report from the place of the accident. I spend the rest of night and part of he morning - until 11'clock - on the local, going to the grocery shop 7/8 minutes before every hourly newscast (the owner gave me the key of the store, to use the phone during the night and went back to bed!).

At 1'clock, I had a big breaking story. I grilled the secretary for Transports, Murteira Nabo, to know what I was sure he already knew: why did the accident happened. After some insistence, he told me, off-the-record, because the official inquiry didn't even started, that they already knew it was human error. The train traffic controller of that area failed to alert the driver of the train coming from Porto to the Spanish frontier to stop at a station 20 miles from Alcafache and wait until other train, coming from the opposite direction, passed by.

Both trains were full of Portuguese immigrants most of them living in France, some going back after holidays in Portugal, other coming in to start it. Close to lunch time, I called my wife.

I told her that, obviously, I couldn't be in Lisbon at time for the lunch scheduled with her, my parents and my in-laws. It was September 12th, my 28th birthday.

I had left home on September 11th, early in the morning. The day was my usual routine: waked up around 7h30, gave bath to my son (my wife had left home already, also as usual, to go to her classes, on the university), I took the child to my mother's home, nearby, and went to Lisbon, to work. That day, came back home around 6'clock pm, September 12th - on time for dinner...