It was a lovely day in eastern Zaire, one of the most beautiful places on earth. I had been back in Zaire just seven weeks, working as nurse-coordinator for the American Refugee Committee, in Mugunga Camp for Rwandan refugees near Goma. A co-worker and I had driven out of town to spend a few hours in the countryside before starting a Sunday afternoon of work in our medical supply storeroom in Goma. I remember passing Kibumba Camp where I had worked six months previously and thinking about the remarkable changes that had taken place in the camp since the refugees arrived in July 1994. Suddenly, the world went black and I recall only a voice in the darkness asking my blood type—nothing more, until about four days later. I slowly awakened and hurt so very badly. I saw white tiles on the ceiling and realized I was in a bed. I had to be in a hospital, but did not know where. Voices were speaking Swahili, which I know only a little, and English, which is my language. I realized I must be in Nairobi Hospital, but how? Why? What was wrong? Why did I hurt so much? I looked around—plastic tubes were going in and out of my body almost everywhere. I couldn't speak—my jaws were wired shut—couldn't hear well, and my vision was blurred. I tried to look around, but couldn't move. Worst of all, when I looked down the bed, something was dreadfully wrong. There was no rise in the bedcovers where my feet should have been.

Little by little, I was able to think clearly and come to understand what had happened. I had become one of the 30,000 who are maimed or die as a result of landmine blasts each year. Like most of the other victims, it happened without warning, while I was going about the most innocent of activities—not endangering anyone, not posing a threat to any military personnel. There was no way to defend myself, no chance to get out of the way, and I will never know why that landmine was put in a hole in the road that was traveled daily by Zairians, refugees, aid workers and others. A random act of terrorism by an unknown person for a reason that will never be known.

Later, friends and co-workers filled me in on the events after the blast destroyed our truck and threw it 30 feet off the road. David Lillie, my co-worker who was driving, was dazed, but had only minor injuries. Realizing I was seriously hurt, he tried to call for help on his hand-held radio set but got no response. Fortunately, a Red Cross nurse happened along within minutes and gave first-aid treatment and directed some passerby to remove me from the wreckage. She took me to the International Federation of the Red Cross hospital in Kibumba Camp where surgeons amputated what was left of my legs below the knees and performed other emergency surgery to save my life.

The Medical Director of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Claire Bourgeois, organized blood donations and arranged for the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR) forces to bring a helicopter from Kigali to move me to Goma Airport where I was picked up by Flying Doctor Service from Kenya and flown to Nairobi. I realized that it was only because I was a foreign aid worker that I was sent to Nairobi immediately for further medical care. If I had been a refugee or one of the local residents, I would have remained at the local hospital. The extensive medical treatment that I needed was not available locally.

When I arrived at the Nairobi Hospital casualty room, I was so near death the doctors did not expect to admit me to the hospital. Fortunately, with excellent medical care, many prayers and my own tough constitution, I did survive and was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. It was three and a half weeks before I was able to transfer to a hospital in my own country and reunite with my family at home. During those painful weeks, I was not allowed a mirror to look at the terrible damage that had been done to my face, nor was I allowed to sit or even turn myself in bed as my back was broken in three places. But, worst of all, I required a ventilator to help me breathe when my lungs failed to function because of shock. Thinking about those weeks can still give me nightmares.

I have had many months of physical rehabilitation, a number of surgeries and can now walk again for short distances with two prosthetic legs and a cane. Like other landmine survivors, I will never be completely free from pain and will have difficulty managing even the ordinary daily routines of life. In some ways, I am luckier than other landmine survivors. I am a citizen of a country which has excellent medical resources and I will be provided for sufficiently to have a reasonable standard of living. Landmine survivors in many countries do not fare so well. Their disabilities will doom them to a life of the worst poverty imaginable. Unless action is taken now, the number of victims will continue to increase. There are well over 100 million mines already in the ground and more being planted each day.

The impact of mines on the people in many countries will profoundly affect the health resources and economics of those countries for years to come. Land that is desperately needed for agriculture is uninhabitable because of mines. In countries such as Cambodia, the health care needs of landmine victims far surpasses the ability of the country to finance this care. Adequate rehabilitation can take years and can be very expensive.

Not only must landmines be eliminated and banned from further use, but assistance for rehabilitation of survivors must be provided. How is a child without arms or legs to survive and become a productive adult in a country where resources for even basic health care are so limited that rehabilitation is impossible? How does a woman without arms or legs care for her family? How does a young man who has been blinded find work to support himself or a family?

Any country that continues to manufacture, distribute or use landmines must be held accountable. Mines are weapons of genocide and terrorism. Mines "protect" no one and there is no reasonable defense for the continued use of mines. Statistics showing that women and children are the principal victims of mines cannot be refuted. Mines are the number one public health problem in many countries and can easily infect other countries. The mine that nearly took my life may have been bought in a nearby marketplace where it could have been easily purchased for as little as $2.00. For $2.00, nearly half a million dollars worth of damage was done and innocent lives were nearly taken. This should not happen.

Efforts to ban landmines must be supported. Additionally, significant pressure must be put on any country failing to agree to a total ban on mines. But most important, assistance must be provided to the present and future survivors of mines. The innocent men, women and children who will suffer so much must have the assistance they need to live their lives with dignity and hope.

About the Author:

Marianne Holtz is an American nurse who worked in Somalia, Southern Sudan, Rwanda and Zaire. Her vehicle struck a land mine while she was working for the American Refugee Committee as a nurse-coordinator for a hospital project in Mugunga Camp. She suffered loss of both legs below the knees and other injuries. Ms. Holtz currently writes and speaks on the problems of landmines and is a volunteer with the Landmine Survivors Network.