I haven't been able to get his screams out of my head. I haven't been able to get the image of his body sinking below the surface of the water out of my dreams. I haven't been able to rid my heart of the immense guilt I feel at not doing anything about it. Five days ago, I saw a young man drown. I was one of those pathetically "helpless onlookers" you hear about in the news: the ones where you question how they could have just watched as life slipped away. The ones I used to question and condemn. And now I'm one of them.
I've replayed the scene over and over again. Actually, that is a lie. It replays all on its own. I've been trying desperately to forget it. But it won't let me. The rock pier was at least twenty feet above the water, supported by jagged boulders. The spray of the vicious waves reached even higher into the air, tickling the faces of passersby like my family and me. It was a beautiful day, sunny and mild with a salty breeze. There was laughter all around us. But with one haunting scream, the laughter ended.
The Atlantic ocean off the coast of Rabat is known for its churning waves and tempestuous water. Though beautiful, it is dangerous, often deceptively so. At first, I thought the scream I heard was playful. One of jest. I'd never heard anything like it. The mouth from which it came was fully above water, and when two young men came running by, I thought it might have been some sort of strange joke. But their response to his scream was totally different. Their response was chillingly serious and panicked, and as they made their way down the rocks, I came to the full realization that the boy in the water was drowning.
I was a lifeguard for three summers in high school. That was 20 years ago, and though I made several saves, I was never a deep water guard. I was never a lifeguard at an open body of water as violent as the Atlantic. I keep telling myself had the two other boys not already gone after him, I would have. I will never know for sure, and that haunts me as well. But they did go after him. They reached him quickly, his head still above water, and a third young man joined them in their rescue.
Everyone on the pier was relieved. The waves were knocking them back and forth, but with three strong men, we were at peace with the rescue. I calmed my breathing and began to rehearse the CPR process in my head, knowing I would be able to help if needed... then everything changed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the waves attack and two heads go under the water. The boy with the light hair who had gone to save the other was now being pulled under. They were struggling below the surface, and the initial two rescuers frantically attempted to pull them up. But only one emerged.
All of us could see the boy lowering deeper and deeper into the ocean. I yelled, "He's right there!" But he was already being ripped away by the angry arms of the Atlantic. The light haired boy tore his head from side to side and dove under the water over and over... all in vain. He was gone. I'd done nothing. I watched him die.
I looked to my husband who was holding the hands of my two young children, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking the same thing. The horror and disbelief was carved into his expression. Chaos erupted and tears stung my eyes. I couldn't keep them from falling. We stayed just in case, and both my husband and I were ready to perform CPR if they could only pull him up... but they never found him. We left as they continued to circle aimlessly in boats and kayaks, but the ocean had claimed him for her own, and my heart continues to pound with sadness. We answered our children's questions as best as we could, but what could we say to erase the trauma of all they'd seen.
I don't know who he was. I don't know if anyone did. He was a nameless victim, but I will never forget him. I pray for the three boys who did everything they could to save his life. They were so brave, so selfless, and so determined to bring him safely to the rocky shore. They could not compete with the rabid waves or the monster of the churning water below. I couldn't have either. But that knowledge does little to temper my guilt and shame. That knowledge does not silence the screams or the image of death. I pray, with all of my heart, that time will.
