This past week has felt like a lifetime. The night of the crash a few of us were celebrating the birthday of his daughter in the city. It was a lovely, small event with my parents and Ian’s wife.
Everything seems to have been on full-speed from there on, whizzing by in a blur. The news that Ian had been in an accident and was in ICU. Meeting with the neurosurgeon who told us Ian had bleeding throughout the brain and spinal damage; ongoing meetings with the brain surgeon, family members flying down, daily visits to the hospital, everyone trying to stay strong and hopeful, yet underneath the absolute terror of not knowing the outcome; a spinal operation; broken sleep; nightmares, trying to remain calm only to have it interrupted by my heart wildly racing; the poignancy of Ian’s loved ones, his parents, wife and children, being supportive to each other while coping with their own heart break; my internal turmoil reflected back at me in their faces, dark circles under shell-shocked eyes filled with grief.
The underlying rage that this didn’t need to happen.
I’ve read the guarantees made over the years and more recently. From urban mobility MEC Isaac Mbuloelo Sileku, City of Cape Town traffic spokesperson Maxine Bezuidenhout, police spokesperson Capt FC van Wyk, and ward councillor Higham.
Maybe you feel you have done plenty and are doing all you can, but please optimise the resources in your power to reduce the accidents on Kloof Nek Road. These accidents affect the lives of the victims, their families and friends, onlookers and the first responders in life-changing ways.
Please don’t let this happen again.
OPINION | 'Please don’t let this happen again': plea after cement truck carnage leaves brother in coma
The truck slammed into multiple vehicles on Kloof Nek Road in Cape Town
“Thankfully, to date, there have been no fatalities.”
These words repeat themselves in my brain as I stand next to my brother Ian, in a coma in ICU, looking at what “no fatalities” looks like. There is nothing thankful about it.
The words are those of ward councillor Francine Higham, printed in the Cape Times. The article quotes Higham's response to the incident on September 26 when an out-of-control cement truck smashed into 17 vehicles before coming to a stop.
My brother was in one of those vehicles.
When I found that Higham's words had been shared by other mainstream media and social media platforms, I was shocked. All the elements of a media mitigation campaign were there:
I didn’t feel reassured and I felt frustrated by the dismissive nature of the “no fatalities” comment. I decided to do some digging.
I discovered that on the day of the incident footage of the crash had gone viral. A Google of “cement truck on Kloof” will take you to the truck barrelling down the steep incline of Kloof Nek Road at unimaginable speed, smashing into the red car my brother was in, its trajectory powering through several more vehicles, before hitting a wall.
It's beyond brutal and any viewing should come with a warning — and by now the clip has been shared to every social media platform.
Reading through comments, I discovered similar accidents have been happening for a long time, with the public calling for action “before more people get killed and injured”.
Earlier crashes were reported from 30 years ago. The most widely reported article online was a crash involving former Miss South Africa Cindy Nell-Roberts when an out of control 24-wheel truck plunged down busy Kloof Nek Road in 2023, smashing into cars before overturning next to a block of flats.
When the crash involving my brother took place a week ago, our closest family and I decided not to post anything on social media as we were reeling from shock and trying to process this devastating tragedy. However, after a discussion, we have decided we want to add a personal side to what is out there. To highlight that the crash isn’t just a number or a viral video or content for jokes. That the impact on the victims and their families has been catastrophic.
We appeal to local government bodies and those who can make a difference to implement the changes that have been promised for decades and that are crucially needed to save lives.
My brother Ian is the most compassionate, kind and philanthropic person I know. Spending his life trying to help others and creating a business that seeks to uplift and support those in need. He has worked to build the Ubuntu Wellness Centre, to train and develop skills for dozens of people. Ian always put others before himself.
Now I'm looking at someone I've loved my whole life lying in a coma.
This is what “no fatalities” looks like.
Ian's right eye is blue and swollen shut, stitches across his eyebrow, a slash on his head. Cuts and stitches on his hand, with countless tubes coming out of countless machines, all essential to keep him alive. He needs tubes to keep him breathing, tubes in his mouth to keep him fed, tubes going into his veins and all of this monitored by the constant beeping of many machines.
None of this fills me with the ice-cold dread as much as the sheer, relentless unresponsiveness. Ian, a man who is filled with such abundant life, just lying here. I am convincing myself he can hear me, feel my presence, but over and above that, I know nothing. All we know is time will tell. It’s that unknown driving those that love him to despair.
This past week has felt like a lifetime. The night of the crash a few of us were celebrating the birthday of his daughter in the city. It was a lovely, small event with my parents and Ian’s wife.
Everything seems to have been on full-speed from there on, whizzing by in a blur. The news that Ian had been in an accident and was in ICU. Meeting with the neurosurgeon who told us Ian had bleeding throughout the brain and spinal damage; ongoing meetings with the brain surgeon, family members flying down, daily visits to the hospital, everyone trying to stay strong and hopeful, yet underneath the absolute terror of not knowing the outcome; a spinal operation; broken sleep; nightmares, trying to remain calm only to have it interrupted by my heart wildly racing; the poignancy of Ian’s loved ones, his parents, wife and children, being supportive to each other while coping with their own heart break; my internal turmoil reflected back at me in their faces, dark circles under shell-shocked eyes filled with grief.
The underlying rage that this didn’t need to happen.
I’ve read the guarantees made over the years and more recently. From urban mobility MEC Isaac Mbuloelo Sileku, City of Cape Town traffic spokesperson Maxine Bezuidenhout, police spokesperson Capt FC van Wyk, and ward councillor Higham.
Maybe you feel you have done plenty and are doing all you can, but please optimise the resources in your power to reduce the accidents on Kloof Nek Road. These accidents affect the lives of the victims, their families and friends, onlookers and the first responders in life-changing ways.
Please don’t let this happen again.
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