Jungle nights are mostly silent; eerily so. Nighttime predators use stealth to surprise their prey. Sound is their enemy. Nocturnal prey noisily foraging for food become fast food. Sound is also their enemy. Save for the few insects attracting a mate with what will be their final song, and the pitter-patter of falling rain, jungles are always silent.
On Thursday last week, several shots from an automatic rifle disrupted the nighttime silence. The force of their impact shattered both the windows they struck and the already fragile sense of security that had finally settled in the hearts and minds of the miners who traveled the jungle road each day on their way to work.
The men in the damaged vehicle had escaped injury. Even so, they were not about to attempt fate and remain where they were. The foot depressed the gas pedal with the urgency of survival. The fight or flight mechanism had made its decision and the body's autonomic response was already in motion. The shot-riddled vehicle lurched forward and accelerated to well over 100 kph on a road designed for a mere forty five.
Whether it be from structural damage, an uncontrolled burst of adrenaline in the driver, or simply from traveling too fast on a road not built for speed, control of the vehicle is lost. The vehicle plunges into a ditch, the gas tank begins to leak, and before the two men can escape, the car is engulfed in flames. The passengers are burned beyond recognition. A family, a community, and a company mourn.
Thus was the fate of two senior managers who died in the line of duty. Twenty year employees leaving behind family, friends, and a tenuous situation once thought under control. They will be missed.
I did not know them well, so I can only assume they would be honored by what followed. Three days of demonstrations, one thousand people strong, protested the security situation and demanded justice. Police captains and military colonels gave speeches condemning the acts and vowing to prevent further incidents. Several memorial ceremonies were held in their honor. There were renewed calls for vigilance with personal security.
Most importantly, life continued. Work continued. The company to which they devoted twenty years of service and, ultimately, their lives, continued. The perpetrators of fear had not won. Miners are a stronger breed than they had accounted for. Miners stare death in the face every day and then go home to their families and laugh.
These men gave their lives so that others could have one. They dedicated their careers to securing opportunity for the tens of thousands of men and women who earn a living extracting metal from the mountains. So we will continue to do what they worked hard every day to protect our opportunity to do.
We will mine.
On Thursday last week, several shots from an automatic rifle disrupted the nighttime silence. The force of their impact shattered both the windows they struck and the already fragile sense of security that had finally settled in the hearts and minds of the miners who traveled the jungle road each day on their way to work.
The men in the damaged vehicle had escaped injury. Even so, they were not about to attempt fate and remain where they were. The foot depressed the gas pedal with the urgency of survival. The fight or flight mechanism had made its decision and the body's autonomic response was already in motion. The shot-riddled vehicle lurched forward and accelerated to well over 100 kph on a road designed for a mere forty five.
Whether it be from structural damage, an uncontrolled burst of adrenaline in the driver, or simply from traveling too fast on a road not built for speed, control of the vehicle is lost. The vehicle plunges into a ditch, the gas tank begins to leak, and before the two men can escape, the car is engulfed in flames. The passengers are burned beyond recognition. A family, a community, and a company mourn.
Thus was the fate of two senior managers who died in the line of duty. Twenty year employees leaving behind family, friends, and a tenuous situation once thought under control. They will be missed.
I did not know them well, so I can only assume they would be honored by what followed. Three days of demonstrations, one thousand people strong, protested the security situation and demanded justice. Police captains and military colonels gave speeches condemning the acts and vowing to prevent further incidents. Several memorial ceremonies were held in their honor. There were renewed calls for vigilance with personal security.
Most importantly, life continued. Work continued. The company to which they devoted twenty years of service and, ultimately, their lives, continued. The perpetrators of fear had not won. Miners are a stronger breed than they had accounted for. Miners stare death in the face every day and then go home to their families and laugh.
These men gave their lives so that others could have one. They dedicated their careers to securing opportunity for the tens of thousands of men and women who earn a living extracting metal from the mountains. So we will continue to do what they worked hard every day to protect our opportunity to do.
We will mine.
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