Thelma
By
Vincent McKalin
Thelma
Copyright 2011 by Vincent McKalin
License Notes
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Thelma
I heard this story is true. Kenneth's son, Rohan, told it to me a few years ago. I do not know how many people will believe it. I do not.
It happened over five decades ago in Kingston, Jamaica. It started with the deadly Kendal crash, so we will start our story there as well.
Kendal crash, to date, is the worst rail disaster in Jamaica's history, and was the second worst in the world when it happened. More than two hundred persons lost their lives, and another seven hundred were injured.
It began on the morning of Sunday, September 1, 1957. About fifteen hundred members of a local Church boarded a train, consisted of two engines and twelve coaches, at the Kingston Railway Station for an all day excursion to Montego Bay. About one hundred known criminals and hooligans accompanied them.
The followers of Christ must have been glad to have the hooligans on board the train. Maybe, in their opinions, the hooligans had made a step in the right direction. Therefore, the Christians did not order the hooligans off the train. Jesus would have acted the very same way, the leaders thought. He would have loved the sinners, but hated the sins. If Jesus could have done this, then they could also. Therefore, I believe, the followers of Christ permitted the hooligans to travel and mingle with them.
With the unsaved on board, from another perspective, there would be persons to minister to; there were souls to win for Christ.
Yeah, the hooligans and the petite criminals were welcome to stay. They were humans, as were the Christians, only with, maybe, disturbed minds, and the Lord could make them whole.
'He came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance', as stated in the Bible, and this lot needed to repent and start a new life, with Christ as their savior.
The hooligans, though, probably had other ideas. Who knows, maybe, apart from their rowdy behavior, they committed acts true to their nature along the way. I bet that they had.
I cannot confirm this, however.
The ride to Montego Bay was freed of any major incidents, as far as is known. However, it would be different on the return journey.
About 11:30 p.m. on the train's return leg, tragedy struck. As the train neared Kendal, a small town in the parish of Manchester, the journey ended abruptly.
About that time, a young sister, with beauty that would rival Halle Berry's, and neatly dressed in the latest and more expensive fashions, rose from her seat to go and use the train's facilities. The train was rocking ferociously, because of the speed at which it was traveling, so, as she stood, she had to hold on to the rail and rail support, above and beside her seat. She was afraid to let go, or to move any farther. She was afraid that if she steps off, she would have lost her balance, even though those persons who were standing would have prevented her from falling.
My God, she thought, why was the driver driving so recklessly? He was driving as if he had a deadline to meet.
He had, of course.
He had one with his maker.
Still, she could not stay there all night, not under the present circumstance. She had to relieve her bladder before she had an accident, and at the rate at which she was being shaken up, an accident was imminent. She prayed for her bladder not to give way on her. Lord knows, she could not stand such an embarrassment.
May the soul of that wretched driver rot in Hell.
She looked towards the facilities. They were not visible, as a mass of sweaty, rocking bodies blocked the passageway. She, however, knew that the facilities were about a half of the length of the coach away, as her seat was located about half way from either end of the coach.
She stared at the bodies, rocking to and from, with contempt. In order for her to reach the facilities, she would have to make her way past... Jesus, past would not be that bad; she would have to make her way through those sweaty, dirty bodies. She would have to brush against them. Jesus Christ, if she did that, she would risk exposing herself to their body waste. It was inevitable under the circumstances, though. She hoped that none of them was suffering from any contagious diseases, Hepatitis B for instance.
She prayed for protection.
She felt a cramp and knew that she had to move, and fast.
She had two choices, however. She could make her way through the crowd, disregarding the sweat and body odor, or to remain where she was and have an accident. She chose the former.
Just before she moved off, her friend who shared seat with her said to her, "Be careful Thelma, dear. Be very careful."
"Don't worry, Sister Juliet. I'll be perfectly alright," she responded, as she hurried off.
She could not be more incorrect.
She stumbled along, bouncing from one swaying body to another. At this time, the cramp in her lower abdomen was almost unbearable. She threw her decency aside then, and began pushing her way through, sweaty bodies or not.
Finally, she reached the facilities. Unsteadily, she reached out to open the door. Just then, there was a sudden jerk, followed by a loud and long screech, as the brakes attached themselves to the wheels, which in turn tightened themselves against the rails in order to stop the train. The passengers, both seated and standing, lunged forward at the sudden application of the brakes. There were shouts and screams as the passengers realized that something must have gone wrong.
There was a domino effect for those standing, and they clattered to the floor, piling on to one another. Thelma found herself beneath the same sweaty, sticky, stinking bodies that she scorned.
If there had not been a disruption, then Thelma's fellow excursionists would have also scorned her, as they would have noticed that her bladder had released its waste, in the process, wetting a few of them.
Now, the passengers began bouncing around, bumping into chairs, handrails support, one another, as the train catapulted along on a trackless course. Seconds later, the train plummeted over a precipice.
There was a sudden dip, which threw the passengers forward. It threw the passengers with such force that their body weight either dislodged or broke some of the handrail supports when the passengers crashed into them. Some of the passengers collided with one another. The collisions knocked some of them out, cold. The plunge threw some of the passengers from the train, some to their deaths and the others to serious injuries.
Two of the hooligans were flung through an opened doorway. One was fortunate, he landed on grass, although he suffered a broken arm, a broken shoulder blade and myriads of cuts and bruises as he rolled down the slope.
The other man was not that lucky. He fell, head first, onto a rock, bashing the back of his head in, cracking that part of his skull into a thousand pieces and turning his brain into a pulp with scores of bone fragments embedded inside it.
You could say that he was luckier than the other man was, as he almost did not feel any pain. His body bounced off the rock like a football bouncing off a goal post. He was dead before he hit dirt. As what was left of him rolled down the slope, the damaged part of his head broke away, leaving the back of his head opened. He rolled along, leaving his smashed brain, mixed with bone fragments, scattered along the path.
Thelma, who was close to one of the exits, was unlucky, and, sadly, would not be among the survivors. The second hooligan grabbed her as he pitched towards the opened doorway, seeking support. He pulled her along with him.
She landed on tough soil, on both feet, snapping one of her tibias in the process. The pain spread through her whole body as she toppled over and rolled down the slope like an out of controlled car.
She crashed into a tree near to the bottom of the ravine. God, it felt as if the contact with the tre
e had smashed her rib cage. She did not have any problem breathing, however. She took a deep breath. There was no discomfort. That meant she had not fractured her ribcage at all. She was thankful.
Now, that left her right leg, which felt as if the train itself had fallen on to it.
She reached down to rub her injured leg, attempting to lessen the pain. She almost fainted when she felt the injured part of her leg, and felt the bone protruding through her shin. Christ, it was worse than she thought.
She, suddenly, felt dizzy. She felt her eyes closing, and forced to keep them open. She had to remain conscious. Help would be arriving soon, she knew. She doubted whether the rescuers would find her where she was if she was unconscious. No, she would have to stay awake, no matter what.
She was thankful, though. She was safe. Her leg was broken, but God had thrown her to safety, and she was grateful.
She was only safe for a few seconds, however, as the engine that was at the back of the train followed a different course than the rest of the train, and rolled in her direction.
She heard and saw it coming, and realized immediately that she was wrong. She was far from being safe. She did not have to be told; she knew that she would be dead, crushed like minced beef.
Thelma's last thought was of her mother, who had to miss the trip because she was suffering from influenza.
Thelma was able to make one wish before the locomotive snuffed out her life like a balloon. She wished to see her mother one more time. Sadly, the powers that be did not grant her wish to her.
Some of the coaches fell on to others, crushing them along with their passengers. Fragments of human bodies were mixed with fragments of the wooden coaches and twisted metals from other parts of the train. Some survivors had to walk and or crawl on the dead bodies and or severed body parts of their fellow excursionists. Some of the bodies that they were forced to trample belonged to their own family members, relatives and friends.
Maybe God had chastised the Christians for the rowdy behavior of the hooligans.
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