SOME years ago, in a major American city, I had firsthand experience in a residential fire. The high-rise apartment building where my husband of the time and I were living, was set ablaze one morning. Young and carefree, we had been out late with friends the night before. I was terribly annoyed when the doorbell began buzzing at 5 a.m. In a slightly brainless state of mind, I went to shout through the intercom at whichever stupid individual was disturbing my beauty rest. My terse snarling of “Who is it?” was met with the information that there was a fire in progress. Hearing such news, I took the only imaginable course of action and went straight back to bed.
A short while later, right in the middle of a good dream, the intercom started buzzing incessantly again. Once more I dragged myself out of bed to answer it. Luckily, I finally grasped the concept that our building was burning down and we should leave. While pulling on my clothes, I woke my husband and a few minutes later we were out in the street, huddled with neighbors we never knew we had. The weather was subzero and while I had been calm enough to don full-dress including a parka, my husband was wearing just a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. The Red Cross quickly came to his rescue with hot coffee and a blanket.
Three years passed and we returned to the Kingdom to start a family. We took up residence in Yanbu Industrial City on Saudi Arabia’s West Coast. The Royal Commission at Yanbu is a definite fantasy land as far as fire safety goes. Every structure in the city has adequate numbers of smoke alarms and working fire extinguishers. The city’s firefighters are well trained and supplied with good equipment. A system of hydrants throughout the Royal Commission means that water tankers are generally not required at fires. Marked roads and numbered buildings ensure that firefighters can quickly find any blaze.
I was uninformed about how lucky I was when it came to fire safety until we moved to the Eastern Region. During their introductory visits the first thing my neighbors told me was that if a fire started in my home I should try to put it out myself before I called the Civil Defense. I thought this was insane as it went against all the fire safety rules I had ever been taught. The neighbors just laughed at me and explained that because there were no street signs or house numbers it was extremely difficult for the Civil Defense to find any location quickly. They usually got to a fire by following the smoke rising from the building. If the blaze were not out of control before the firefighters were called, it would be by the time they arrived. Taking these comments seriously, I bought a fire extinguisher and learned how to use it as a matter of self-preservation.
Things are a bit better now in the Eastern Province. Many of the streets and houses are marked. They haven’t gotten to my district yet but I hope I’ll have an address sometime soon so I could call up the Civil Defense with accurate information in the event of a disaster. But it might not help much. Unfortunately, in my area parking spaces are at a premium. At night cars are parked on both sides of the streets. This makes the roads so narrow, that if a fire broke out in the early morning hours here the Civil Defense probably wouldn’t be able to reach it.
Three weeks ago I had to go out and get the details about a fire burning out of control on King Abdul Aziz Street. It was a blistering hot summer day and the blaze was consuming the Al-Khodari Complex, an office building in Alkhobar’s business district. Many employees working in the building had carried computer equipment, files and document boxes with them down the fire escape as they abandoned their offices. Just imagine putting a computer’s CPU weighing 5 kilograms under each arm and running down a metal staircase outdoors from the tenth floor with people pushing and panicking behind you. It was a frightening experience for these men and only their extreme dedication to their jobs and their fear of having to do them without essential data gave them the strength to accomplish such physically challenging feats.
While the guys were doing the 50-meter sprint down the fire escape, attracted by the smoke, a huge crowd was forming in front of the building. Thousands of people came out for some excitement. Perhaps because there is a lack of public entertainment here in the Kingdom, fires are a major attraction. People drove all the way from Dammam to get a glimpse of the “Towering Inferno.” I want to emphasize that the spectators encompassed a cross-section of the population. At one point there were even Saudi families having picnics on the median strip off to the side of the burning building.
In addition to watching the fire, every spectator had an opinion about what the Civil Defense should be doing to snuff out the flames. The bottom line was that whatever the firefighters were doing to control the blaze wasn’t working. That was apparent because the flames crept higher and higher. It wasn’t the fault of the Civil Defense personnel that the fire wasn’t handled well. The firefighters lacked everything needed to deal with such a situation — except courage.
Most of the Eastern Province’s fire fighting equipment was purchased in the late 1970s and 1980s and for a variety of reasons it hasn’t been maintained properly. Decades ago there were few high-rise buildings. Now there are many. To fight high-rise fires everything from high-pressure equipment to adequate personal safety gear is required. Firefighters must be constantly trained and retrained in the proper use of such equipment, and from the first report of a high-rise fire they must be deployed rapidly and in force. The physical fitness of the Civil Defense personnel is also an issue. It is impossible to heave large extinguishers and tens of meters of hose without upper body strength and stamina. A program of nutritional advice and fitness training could be immediately implemented for all firefighters at very little cost.
Al-Khodari Complex burned for the entire afternoon and on into Thursday night. The crowds dissipated in the evening hours but those of us who remained were spellbound by the glorious destructive power of the monster in our midst. Huge flames sent bursts of red brilliance into the inky darkness. Exploding windows rained bright blue shards on the pavement below. The watchers gasped as parts of the facade crackled off the building and slid away. Eventually, Saudi Aramco’s hoses extinguished the flames and only gritty smoke remained.
Now the building is ringed with security guards and no one wants to speak of the destruction that shouldn’t have been. According to one firefighter at the scene, unless adequate numbers of personnel and equipment are deployed within the first 30 minutes of a high-rise blaze the damage incurred will be extensive, especially if the fire is on the upper floors. In addition, the responsibility for the control of a high-rise fire rests not only with the Civil Defense, but also with the building’s administration. Fire systems such as automatic sprinklers can cost millions of riyals to install but they can also save millions. If sprinklers aren’t in use then smoke detectors, fire extinguishers, fire blankets and a safety plan are even more vital. Building maintenance staff can often smother fires immediately using the right fire extinguishers if they have been trained in their use. It takes less than an hour to teach people basic fire control techniques.
In the Al-Khodari fire no lives were lost but how long will we continue to trust dumb luck to save us? The laws of probability indicate that if there are no changes made in the methods we use to manage high-rise fires a tragic outcome is certain. Believe me, crying is the least efficient way to put out a fire.