Life Day
by Liv Leigh
On 28 November 25 years ago, on the vibrant Camps Bay beachfront, bustling with people enjoying the start of the summer holidays, a pipe bomb was detonated in the middle of the afternoon, ripping through the St Elmo’s Pizzeria and its busy patio. Forty-eight people, including children, were injured, their lives changed in an instant.
I am one of those people.
I had just turned 16 and it was my first shift at my new job, just a few blocks from my home.
I have no recollection of the explosion, but I’m told that the first responders, who had landed their helicopter on the beach minutes after the blast, saved my life there and then. I was quickly airlifted to Milnerton Mediclinic, where there was a brand-new trauma unit.
The bombers had packed their device with nails and shards of metal, aiming to cause as much injury as possible. It was certainly effective, and the damage to my body was catastrophic. Without going into too much detail, my right leg was blown off below the knee, my left leg sustained so much damage that I almost lost it too, and I was burnt over most of my body. I would probably have been blinded but must have instinctively thrown my hands up to protect my eyes, sacrificing the full use of my left hand in exchange for sight.
The doctors, nurses and all the extraordinary medical personnel at Milnerton Mediclinic saved my life again, multiple times, in the following weeks. Without that care and the endless support of my family and friends, I surely would not be here, but there are others – strangers – whose support I’m eternally grateful for.
In response to this terrible act of violence, I received an outpouring of encouragement and support in the form of beautiful letters, cards and gifts from people who barely knew me or didn’t know me at all. Perhaps some of you are even reading this right now. To those people who took the time to send kindness to a stranger in need, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You imbued those cards with some kind of magic and I’ve kept them in my possession to this day. Know that you made a difference and I try to keep that magic in mind as I live my life.
In the months and years that followed, my wounds healed but the consequences of my injuries remained. I was confronted with a new life and a new reality that is ever-changing. I got my first prosthetic leg, learnt to walk again and found out that I’d need a new prosthesis every few years.
I used to be a sprinter and it was really hard to accept that my legs were too damaged to run again, even with the appropriate prostheses. I had been a musician since childhood, and my somewhat useless left hand robbed me of the ability to play piano or clarinet like I used to, so I picked up a guitar and played it for years, until nerve damage removed that option. Now I play hand drums. The repercussions of the bombing have resounded through all facets and times of my life, and I’ve tried to respond to each loss by adapting and finding a new opportunity, a new normal.
Now, remember those nails I talked about? The ones that were packed into the bomb? Well, the amazing medical staff at Milnerton Mediclinic debrided my wounds for weeks, removing all the nails that they could find.
Except for one.
They didn’t know about it, and neither did I. I just felt my hip aching a bit at times. About 16 years later, though, my hip began hurting terribly and a black mark appeared on my skin. I was going for an X-ray for a different injury and I asked the tech if they could possibly snap a scan of my hip too. I’ll never forget the look on their face when they came back into the room and stammered, “Th… there’s a nail in there!”
There was much debate about how to get it out, but ultimately I went to my family doctor, who poked at it for a bit and popped it out with a scalpel and a cheer of surprise from me! Once I had that gnarled, blackened piece of metal in my hands, you’d think that I might have felt revulsion or relief, but I felt a strange fondness. This violent little embodiment of hate was placed into a tool of destruction intended to cause grievous harm but, instead, I’d held it there, curved against my hipbone, and taken it on 16 years of adventures. It had come with me across the world, gone to university with me, been with me when I married, divorced and married again, seen heartbreak and exuberance, and so much joy. It had come along with me as I lived! It felt like a symbol of how we can claim the damage in our lives, accept it, live with it, even embrace it, and take it along with us as we grow.
Twenty-five years after the bombing, I live in America, in California. I work as a bio-medical designer and a YouTuber and writer focused on electric vehicles. Though I’m a world away from that life-changing day in Camps Bay, I deal with its impact daily. The reality of living with permanent injuries is a constant struggle, but I’m deeply grateful for every single moment of these 25 years that I almost didn’t have the opportunity to live.
Every year I celebrate 28 November as my Life Day. The Day that I Survived. Some years I have an elaborate celebration, other years it’s small, but I always take the opportunity to reflect, rejoice and be thankful. Sometimes, by an oddly perfect turn of fate, my Life Day occurs on the same day that Americans celebrate Thanksgiving, a day of gratitude. This year is one of those times.
Since that day in 1999, I’ve witnessed the people around me go through their own life-altering traumas. Unfortunately, I’m sure that many of you reading this have probably experienced this too. You have a Life Day of your own and I hope you’re able to claim it, commemorate it and celebrate!
I am so fortunate to have had the kindness of so many people in my time of need. Some, during those years of senseless bombings throughout the Cape, were not so fortunate, and I pay homage to them. I think of them, and of the strangers who sent me letters, friends who I’ve lost touch with, and everyone who shared this life event with me. I hope that every single one of you reading this is thriving, healthy and happy, and that you have a full, wonderful life.
And if, somehow, you happen to be a person who has violence in their heart, or perhaps you’re even one of the people involved with the bomb that almost killed me, I truly hope you have found a better way to live.
Thank you for reading this and celebrating my Life Day with me.
-Liv
