03-10 (2003). Article Title: What's That on the Runway.

AuthorAuthor: Markus Zimmer

Utah Bar Journal

Volume 3.

03-10 (2003).

Article Title: What's That on the Runway

March, 2003Article Title: What's That on the RunwayAuthor: Markus ZimmerArticle Type:ArticleDarkness was falling over the sprawling Rwandan capital of Kigali as Sabena Flight 465 descended through 10,000 feet. The flight from Brussels had been just over eight hours. Added to connecting flights from Salt Lake City to Atlanta and Atlanta to Brussels, I'd been flying for nearly 20 hours, not including layovers of several hours at each stop. Aside from its duration, the flight had been uneventful. Having spent time in the Balkans, I recognized some of the geography as we flew southeast of Europe and over Croatia's beautiful Dalmatian coastline. Leaving the Balkans and Greece with its islands nestled in the dark blue Aegean Sea, the plane traversed the Mediterranean, then crossed over Egypt. I was awestruck by the vastness of the African Continent and the stark contrast between the lush, fertile valley of the Nile and the lifeless expanse of northern Sudan's sun-baked desert extending far into the distance.When the pilot announced in his staccato Flemish accent - he must have had an Italian mother - that the tower in Kigali had cleared our flight for landing, I shook off the grogginess, breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to look out the window as we made our approach. The airport in Kigali sits on a flat rise, slightly above the surrounding city perched on a series of gently rolling hills. The flashing signal lights marking the landing area slowly became visible as we gradually lost altitude on the approach. Kigali's city lights cast a quiet yellow glow over the darkening landscape. Because Rwanda ranks among the world's poorest countries, access to municipal power is available only in the largest towns and cities. At night, the more impoverished African cities give witness to their status by the sporadic manner in which they are illuminated, random patches of flickering light here and there with modest levels of traffic, even at rush hour, casting beams of light through the darkness. The encroaching night was calm and clear, and the plane held steady as we descended through the last thousand feet, heading for what appeared would be a smooth landing.Without warning, the aircraft's engines roared back to full throttle and the plane suddenly shot back up, veering into a wide curve away from the airport as the lights of the terminal building swept by. A minute later the captain announced that our landing had been aborted because the runway was not clear. I looked around at the other travelers, several of whom wore expressions of fear. After a broad sweep that took us beyond the perimeter of light, the pilot eased the jet around and back toward the airport. Again, he announced we'd been cleared to land. Several minutes passed before the rows of lights outlining the runway appeared, first as a gentle blur that slowly defined itself as the plane approached. Some three hundred yards from touchdown, the plane shuddered again as the captain accelerated upward and off to the left, causing some passengers to gasp and others to cry...

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