A “good” time to be hi-jacked?

Timewatch last Friday was all about the hi-jacking I was involved in when I was ten.

It made fascinating viewing. And yes, it did bring the memories back. It’s a pretty weird thing to happen to you when you’re ten. Luckily for me, I had two of my sisters with me and my copy of “My Family and Other Animals”, so I spent most of the time reading. So “thank you, Gerald Durrell”, for keeping me occupied during a rather trying couple of days.

The things I remember which didn’t get into the programme are the scary bit at the beginning when we realised that the plane had been taken over and all the children immediately wanted to go to the loo! I don’t recall ever feeling frightened after the plane landed at Dawson’s Field.

I remember peering out of the plane window at the press when they came out to look at us. We had had very little food or water at that point and there they all were with their sandwiches and whatever. It was the presence of tomatoes that really struck me. I’d have really appreciated being given a tomato at that point. I can remember not wanting to climb down the ladder to get onto the ground because it was long and very steeply angled and there were men crowded around the bottom who would look up my dress.

I remember seeing the explosives in the cockpit and seeing the guerrillas all walking around with their guns. I can remember seeing the Jordanian Army’s tank in the distance and knowing that it would not be a good thing if they came any closer.

I can remember gathering around the radio to listen to the news and my sisters and I getting the hijackers to sign the propaganda information that they gave us to read. When we got back, all these signatures were given to the “intelligence services” for them to examine. We did eventually get them back.

I can also remember feeling rather cross about the grown-ups patronisingly speaking for us and saying “Of course, the children didn’t understand what was happening or how much danger they were in.”

Even today, I think that they were missing the point. It’s not that I didn’t understand. I knew perfectly well that there was a chance that I might die. It’s just that as a child, you live so much more in the present. What happens tomorrow isn’t really of that much concern (unless it’s having to go back to boarding school or do a French test).

I did contact a few friends to tell them about the programme. A number were astonished that I’d never mentioned it before. It may seem odd at first, but when you think about it, how do you raise the subject in casual conversation?

“What were you doing yesterday, Susan?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about the time we were hijacked . . . “

I’ve always felt that it’s a bit of a conversation stopper.

Besides, when we finally started back at school, the other children didn’t want to hear about it. I remember one of my school friends telling me that people had been saying “Oh, we’ll never hear the end of it from the Abletts when they get back. . . . ” So we shut up and got on with our lives.

In the years since it has happened, I have watched the news of other hijackings and followed the fate of those involved and felt rather fortunate that we got hijacked when we did. . . . .