Joe Lowry, Communications manager, Europe Zone, in Kolontar, western Hungary
A scarlet swathe slashes through the tiny village of Kolontar. The local inhabitants stand stunned, staring from the roadside at the ruins of their homes. Military teams have cleaned up the worst of the toxic mud, but all round, the cloying crimson is encrusted on walls, doors, cars, fields and roads.
Four people are reported dead, nine missing and more than 100 injured, after a reservoir of residue from an aluminium plant burst on Tuesday, 5 October, releasing a flood of toxic red mud in Kolontar and five other villages. The government declared a state of emergency in three regions.
Roland Grubert, disaster manager with Hungarian Red Cross reached the scene of the disaster at 17:00 on Monday, just hours after the wall of mud poured from the nearby alumina factory, travelling the two kilometres in just 30 minutes.
“When we got here the mud was two metres high,” he says, sweeping his arm over the panorama of destruction. Roland’s team of 50 staff and volunteers quickly set to work, erecting searchlights and going house to house to look for survivors or those in need of rescue. At the same time, relief teams brought beds, blankets, food and water to the hundreds of displaced people.
Geza Faci joined Hungarian Red Cross as a new disaster manager on Monday. Within hours he too was deployed to the deepening emergency. “It was quite a start for me, sleeping in a church after my first day at work”.
With the emergency phase ending, and most people sheltering with relatives, Hungarian Red Cross plans turn to the recovery stage. Other aid organizations have arrived, and coordination is paramount. A needs assessment has already started, and the National Society has begun a nationwide fundraising campaign.
It will be some comfort to families like the Takecs, whose cherished home became uninhabitable in five awful minutes. While the rest of the family was at work, 19-year-old Norbert was surprised to see the electricity cut out.
“I opened the door and in poured a wall of mud,” the shocked teenager says. “I climbed up on the roof but dropped my phone into the mud so had to shout for help. No one came, and when it seemed safe I jumped down, and injured my ankle.”
His father takes us through the forest to look across the broken bridge, the blood-red river, at the family home. Close to tears, Istven, a 49-year-old mechanic, says “We’ll never go back. Everything is ruined. My life’s work has been taken away in five minutes.”