Aberfan Remembered

aberfan

I heard the news of the Aberfan disaster from a young Spanish doctor.  He had tears in his eyes

Fifty years on, I don’t remember what he said. It didn’t matter much. He knew me slightly, enough to remember that I came from Wales. We were both working at a hospital in uptown Manhattan.

It was a time before good cheap international communications. News drifted in of the horrors over the next few days. I was born a few miles down the valley from Aberfan.

Before, it was an unremarkable little community. You needed a reason for visiting or remembering it.. That all changed as a giant mud-flow swept down to engulf a little school.

Years later I remember Aberfan afresh. A Mexican student, this time studying in Manchester for a business degree, came up to his tutors in some distress. He also had tears in his eyes.  Susan and I in puzzlement thought that he was talking about moths.

We eventually understood. He meant mud. There had been another mud slide.  This time in Mexico.

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