Monday, March 17, 2014

Lecture gone live: fighting a fire

3-17-14

Christine Rushton, Murrow Backpack Journalist

A  flame left from a fire Monday in Zacapa, Guatemala.   Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Crouching in smoldering ash, I felt sweat pour down my face. Smoke rose around my lens as the army soldier to my right pointed at my feet. The soles of my tennis shoes had started to melt.
Monday started when I branched off from the HIM crews and tagged along with Spokane Fire Chief Bruce Holloway. He travels to Guatemala with his wife to train local volunteer firefighters and military crews for the worst.
Taking notes in my fold-down school chair, I expected to spend the day following Bruce’s lectures at the station in Zacapa. But an emergency call summoned the fire crew, and the lesson went live.
The team prepares the fire hose.    Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 
A field in the downtown region had caught fire and the 95-degree heat and wind fed the burn. Bruce said the Guatemalan people burn trash, and often a spark will jump to the dry fields.
With only two donated fire engines and a few ambulances to serve 65 communities, the team of volunteers and visiting Guatemalan army members piled on with shovels and machetes. Scarred by the flames that had nearly finished smoldering, the field where crops once stood now lay dead.
Bruce commanded the team to dig trenches and snuff out lingering flames. In the brush, he stopped to tell me about the power of changing winds.  
Guatemalan army soldiers beat down smoldering flames.    Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 
One Guatemalan soldier digs trenches in the field.    Christine Rushton | Murrow College
When firefighters in Arizona died last year, Bruce said the winds had shifted in a thunderstorm 180-degrees. The crew did not have time to escape.
Always fight the fire from back to front, he said.
But Bruce hangs on to what firefighters call “gallows humor;” they joke about the flames that steal the oxygen of life.
“We are careful around other people, but it’s the only way to keep our sanity,” he said.
The volunteer crews survive on fundraising and donations. The people face fires due mostly to people burning trash in uncontrolled settings.
Juan Alvarez, a volunteer at the Zacapa station, said the city once provided 2,500 quetzals a month, but hasn’t since September 2013.
A woman firefighter douses a stump.     Christine Rushton | Murrow College
After two hours fighting, the team reduced the threat to steam. Despite a thick layer of soot and sweat coating each soldier’s skin, smiles stretched across faces.
My legs had cuts. My freckles had disappeared underneath black debris. But my camera had filled with photos proving the determination of a dedicated team.
Never doubt the heart of a volunteer on the front lines.
Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 

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