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malay to bidayuh

malay to Bidayuh

Last Update: 2014-09-29
Subject: General
Usage Frequency: 1
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Reference: Anonymous

belasah in english

beatings in Bahasa Inggeris

Last Update: 2014-09-26
Subject: General
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:
Reference: Anonymous

English example sentences

collaborative

Last Update: 2014-09-28
Subject: General
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:
Reference: Anonymous

Malaysian University English Test

Malaysian University English Test

Last Update: 2014-10-01
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:
Reference: Wikipedia

kamus english melayu - english Cina

generation

Last Update: 2014-09-22
Subject: General
Usage Frequency: 1
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Reference: Anonymous

malaysia language translation to english

Coding with GameMaker Language. In This Chapter. ▶ Looking at coding examples from the breakout tutorial. ▶ Using GameMaker Language code. ▶ Coding keyboard controls. ▶ Looking at example code for collisions. ▶ Coding score displays. ▶ Creating an introductory Room and a closing Room. A n extremely powerful feature of GameMaker: Studio is the ability to code using GameMaker Language (GML). GameMaker makes it easy for you to add custom code to your game through the Execute Code Action found on the Control tab of the Object Properties window. To get you acquainted with GML, this chapter uses coding examples from the in-software tutorial, Coding Tutorial, which shows how to create a breakout- style game using GML. Through the example code, you work with Objects that represent a player-controlled bat, a bouncing ball, and a number of other Objects that you can use in your own games. This chapter isn’t a one-stop shop for learning GML or coding a breakout- style game. Instead, it’s an introduction with examples on using GML and coding examples. This chapter also describes how to create introductory and closing screens by setting up more than one Room. I introduce the concept of saving and dis- playing the current high score. These features are one that you can then add to your own games.

Last Update: 2014-09-07
Subject: General
Usage Frequency: 1
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Reference: Anonymous

google translate malay untuk kayan

google translate malay to kayan

Last Update: 2014-09-27
Subject: Music
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:
Reference: Anonymous

fanfic kai malay diberi nilai m

fanfic kai malay rated m

Last Update: 2014-09-25
Subject: General
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:
Reference: Anonymous

in Malay (goggle) is called what

goggle

Last Update: 2014-09-29
Subject: General
Usage Frequency: 1
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Reference: Anonymous

‘Doctor Samantha Roberts,’ I say, answering the phone. ‘Sam? It’s Peter Mendel. Happy new year!’ ‘Hello Peter. Happy new year to you too. Are we all set?’ ‘Yes. Just confirming that Bebe and I will arrive at Heathrow airport tomorrow at 20.30 from Frankfurt. We fly to Lagos in Nigeria, with an overnight stop. Then onto Kinshasa in the Congo, then onto Goma in Rwanda, where Thomas Ndebale will meet us. He will be our guide and fly us to Ruhengeri.’ ‘It sounds exciting Peter. Everything’s packed. Who is Bebe?’ She asked. ‘Brunhild Braun. Prefers to be known by her initials. Hence Bebe. She’s from Hamburg.’ He said as if it was an apology for something. ‘She will be the photographer.’ ‘I was in touch with the Foreign Office yesterday Peter, they are advising people not to travel to Rwanda or Congo - Kinshasa because of the rebel uprisings. What are you hearing?’ ‘We will be ok in the national park, Sam. The rebels have no reason to be there, and we will have an armed guard. Anyway, I’ve got a lot to get sorted, so I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow, ok?’ ‘Fine. Peter. See you tomorrow.’ I said, putting the phone down. I was juggling two hats. I was a lecturer in zoology at Salford University and a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation Inspector. UNESCO pay towards my salary at Salford, so the university didn’t actually mind me going on trips. This one was to last for two months from 5th January to 5th March. Part of it would be in the rainy season. A gamble which UNESCO felt worthwhile. We were going to study mountain gorillas, and check records from the various national parks. Peter, a 42 year old, Austrian, would be leading the expedition. Peter and I had a past. He was my lover from my first expedition with UNESCO. We split up three years ago. I wanted more than sex on a trip. He didn’t. I suppose Bebe would share his bed on this trip. Peter couldn’t go long without having sex. I could cope. I’ve got Will now. Will and I share a flat, and have done so for two years. Dear Diary. Thursday 2nd January 2003. My last day at Salford. Went to dinner with Will. I shall miss him. Peter rang with flight details. Said goodbye to university for the next 2 months. Friday 3rd January 2003. Heathrow Airport, London, England. Arrived in good time for once to meet Peter off the Frankfurt flight. Peter was his usual self. He looked good. Fit and lean. I met Bebe. She was tall, muscular, and pretty. I could have fancied her myself, but instead, I took an instant dislike to her. Her body language said she was already making a play for Peter. She constantly spoke to him in German, when we had agreed beforehand that all conversation would be in English, the adopted language of the United Nations. We spent the hour waiting for our flight in the restaurant. Bebe sat next to Peter, and watched him the whole time. Hanging on to his every word. This was her first trip with UNESCO, having just joined them. This was my second trip to Africa. Peter was a veteran. Bebe had the latest gear. Some her own, but most of it belonging to UNESCO. She would be taking video and still photographs. Peter and I would be inspectors, and both having a love of gorillas, we would both be doing something we loved, dearly. Dear Diary Friday 3rd January 2003. Met Bebe. Didn’t like her. She fancies Peter, but I found, I still do too. Writing this on the plane. She is sitting next to Peter, pretending to be asleep, with her head on his shoulder. I am sitting in the row behind, watching the film, The Land That Time Forgot. Saturday 4th January 2003. Lagos, Nigeria. After a tiring flight, where Bebe and Peter seem to be getting along just fine, we go to the Lagos Hilton, where we have three rooms booked. We agree to meet in an hour in the restaurant. Bebe and Peter are late. They walk in arm in arm. Didn’t take him or her long did it? She’s packed a summer dress. Peter and I are in our bush ’uniform’ of Khaki shirt and trousers. I’ve even got on my walking boots, new this year, to help break them in. ‘Hello Sam.’ she says. Sam? I never said she could call me that. ’Peter and I thought we would go into the disco after dinner. Do you mind?’ Asking me in such a way that said I wasn’t invited. ‘Why should I mind, Bebe?’ ‘We just thought that you might have liked to come, and we….’ ‘Would prefer to go on your own? Of course. No I don’t want to go anyway. Have a good time.’ Dear Diary Saturday 4th January 2003. Bebe and Peter dumped me to go clubbing. Went to bed. Too hot to sleep. Heard them come back at 03.00. They both went into his room. Sunday 5th January 2003. Ruhengeri, Rwanda. We arrive at Ruhengeri, having changed planes at Goma. Thomas Ndebale is there to meet us. I’ve met him before. He doesn’t look well. He says he is ok. We load all our gear into the plane. I’ve got one rucksack with a change of clothes in it. Bebe’s camera gear takes up most the plane. ‘Peter? How are we going to shift all this gear?’ I ask. ‘Don’t know. When we get to Virunga we will have to store some of it.’ ‘Peter.’ Bebe says. ‘I need all this. Can’t we hire some porters?’ she says, putting her hand on his arm and leaving it there. ‘We’ll see.’ he says. I notice she has on a belt with a large BB on the buckle. ‘Can I go in the front, Peter. So I can take some photo’s?’ she says. ‘I don’t mind. If it’s alright with Sam, you can.’ ‘Sam? Can I?’ ‘I don’t mind.’ I say. We climb into the four seater plane. Thomas and Bebe in front. Peter and I are in the back. There is equipment packed everywhere. The plane struggles to take off, and only just clears the end of the runway. We turn south west and start to climb. We head for Virunga National Park. We fly for about two hours, and are now over a partly hilly wooded area. It has got very windy and we get buffeted around. The equipment stacked behind us, starts to tip over. Peter climbs over the seats and tries to restack it. I turn to help. Suddenly the plane nose dives. Bebe shouts something in German. Neither Peter nor I have our seat belts on. Peter falls past me. I turn to face the front. Thomas has collapsed over the controls. Bebe has reached across to grab the joystick. Peter pulls Thomas back and Bebe has the stick, but is positioned in the wrong seat. The whole conversation is in German. I only understand the odd words. Bebe has pulled the plane out of the dive. We have to put down. We can’t move Thomas. I feel for a pulse, but there is none. Peter spots a clearing, and shouts to Bebe. She lines the plane up, and comes into land. The plane touches down with a most enormous thump, and as I look out the window, I see a wheel fly off past us. The plane lurches back into the air. Bebe tries to land again. She doesn’t know about the wheel. I shout to warn her. She tells me to shut up. The plane touches down and digs in and spins around. The wing digs into the earth, and the tip breaks off. The plane skids into a large flat rock in the clearing and takes off, sideways. I think we are all screaming. We are now going backwards. Trees are crashing into us as the plane spins, and then nosedives into the ground. Peter had hold of Thomas and as the plane is spinning, cannons into the back of his head. Peter’s face splits open. As the plane slows to a standstill, it collapses around us. Jagged metal appears everywhere. The plane has stopped. Somehow, at some point, I had managed to do up my seatbelt. I think I’ve dislocated my left shoulder. Peter looks in a bad way. Besides his face, a tree branch is sticking into his stomach. I don’t know how far. The pilots seat has crushed his legs. Bebe has leg wounds, but they look superficial. I am medical officer on this trip. I struggle to undo my belt. Bebe turns around to speak to Peter. She screams when she sees him. ‘Bebe? Bebe? Are you hurt?’ I ask. ‘I can smell aviation fuel. Come on, we’ve got to get out.’ ‘I’ve hurt my legs, a bit, but not badly.’ She says. There is no need to open the door. It has gone in the crash. ‘I need you to put my shoulder back in. It’s dislocated.’ I say. ‘Get out of the plane, Bebe!’ ‘What about Peter?’ she says. ‘Lets make sure we are able to get out first.’ She climbs out. I look at her legs. There seems to be no injuries and she seems to be able to walk ok. She helps me out. ’Have you ever put back a dislocation?’ I ask. ‘No,’ ‘Well. Just hold my arm. I’ll twist it. When I shout, ‘push‘. Push as hard as you can. Ok?’ ‘I think so.’ ‘Good.’ I twist my arm, then adjust my shoulder. I shout ’push’ and she pushes. There is a loud click and an almighty pain shoots from my shoulder down to my hand. It has gone back in place. Immediately I climb back into the plane. I look at Peter. His feet and face are smashed. The branch has entered his stomach. I feel behind him and am horrified to feel the branch coming out through his back. There is really nothing I can do for him. I inject him with as much morphine as I dare. He will probably die before night fall. I double check Thomas for a pulse. He is already dead. I try the radio. Not a peep. ’Mayday, Mayday. This is …..’ I don’t know our call sign. Worse I don’t know where we are. Bebe has sat down on the rock we hit when we were landing. I go up to her. She has a look on her face which seems to say that the accident is really inconvenient to her. ‘Bebe. There’s nothing we can do for Peter. He will die soon. We need to get help.’ To our right was a mountain. I figured if one of us climbed it we may be able to get a signal on the mobile phone. I had already tried it and got nothing. Bebe seemed out of it. I would have to go. ‘You look after Peter. Give him anything he needs. Get the medical kit out the plane. I’ll take the flare gun, in case I see help. ‘Ok. Will he be alright?’ She is obviously concussed. I leave her sitting on the rock and give her a drink. ‘See you soon.’ Chapter Two. Beyond Help. I set off walking up a track. When I look up I can see a ridge. If I can climb that, I could access both sides to see if I can get a signal. I start to climb. I have climbed around a kilometre. Still no signal. Suddenly there is a gun shot from the area of the plane. Help has arrived. They have fired the gun to tell me they are there and to return to the plane. Relieved I start to climb down. Half an hour later I am not far from the plane. I am on a ridge above it. I can just make it out. There are four or five men in the clearing near the plane. Should I shout? I look closer. Two men are unloading the plane. Three men are with Bebe on the rock. Why are two of them holding her down? She has no trousers on. The third, a white man must be a doctor looking at her wounds. No! He hasn’t any trousers on either. He is lying on top of her. God, he is raping her! I must help her. What can I do? I only have one flare. It might take one of them out. That would leave four to do the same to me. Bebe is beyond my help. I watch helplessly while they take it in turns with her. The white man who was wearing tatty trousers tries on hers. They are too big, but ok when he does the belt up. The belt with BB on it. Another man, undresses her and tries on her shirt. She is shouting. One of them picks up a rag and presses it into her mouth. Each has had their turn with her and they return to looting the plane, leaving Bebe lying on the rock, stunned. Bebe’s photographic cases are open. They are helping themselves. She sees an opportunity to run and sets off down the clearing towards where I am. The white man wearing her trousers, picks up a high powered rifle and carefully takes aim. They must either be rebels or poachers. He fires. A naked Bebe is running about one hundred metres away. The shot hits her in her back. Her chest explodes as blood and flesh is blasted away. She runs for a few more paces, then drops to the floor. I doubt she can be alive. I watched transfixed from my vantage point up in the rocks. The man who fired the gun walked up to Bebe. He looks at her, lying face down, in a pool of blood. He rolls her over with his foot and takes aim again, blasting her face off. A retort echoed around the valley. He suddenly looked up, towards to where I am sitting. I stayed still. I didn’t think he could possibly see me. He went back to the plane. I doubt they would torch it. The smoke would probably be seen. I looked at my watch. I start to plan my escape. At the moment I had the clothes I was wearing. A shirt, shorts, socks and boots. I also had my little backpack containing basic medical supplies, creams and plasters, pen, notebook and my diary. My rucksack was still in the plane. The only other thing I had was my watch. It was 16.28. They departed at 17.17 and I waited a further hour before deciding to go back to plane and get what I could. I walked up to Bebe. You could see the bloodstained earth through the gaping hole in her chest. The right side of her face was scattered over a wide area. Insects had already moved in. I couldn’t move her. If they came back they would know if someone had been here, if she was moved. I left her and moved nearer the plane. The flare gun at the ready. I walked past the rag that had been stuffed in her mouth, that she had pulled out when she ran off. It was her knickers. Other items were scattered on the ground. If they were rebels, they may have booby trapped the plane. I thought they were probably poachers. They wore no uniforms. I checked as best I could. I could see nothing unusual so I climbed in. Thomas had had his throat cut. Peter had been shot in the chest. He was dead and was no longer in pain. I kissed my finger and put it to his bloodstained lips. ‘Goodbye, Peter.’ I cried as I said it. ’Rest in peace. Bebe‘s with you.’ I looked for anything I could find of use. All the medical equipment was gone, including the planes emergency kit. The emergency beacon was smashed, and inoperative. I wondered if anyone would even know where we were. I couldn’t find any maps at all, but I found a compass under Peter’s seat. My rucksack was missing. They would come back if they worked out they had different sizes of clothes, but they probably would have just put them on. I tried not to imagine someone running around Rwanda wearing the lacy Marks and Spencer knickers I brought in case I got together with Peter again. My fleece was missing. I found a jumper on the ground outside the plane, with sleeves cut off at the elbows. Cast off by one of the men. It stunk, but I took it. I found a torn survival blanket. I remember Peter would have some matches in his pocket, so I went back to him and took them. I had to get out of here fast. I was in fear they might come back. I decided to spend the night on the ridge that I watched Bebe’s last few minutes from. I climbed back to the ridge. I had a little food, and some water. Dear Diary Sunday 5th January 2003 Plane crashed killing Thomas. Poachers killed Peter and Bebe. They did so awful things to her before killing her. They have looted everything. Besides the clothes I stand up in, I have very limited supplies, a compass, a torn survival blanket, some food and water, half a box of matches and my trusty diary. Monday 6th January 2003. Virunga National Park. I spend a freezing cold night. I hear a noise, down by the plane. It is 06.11. I peer over the edge. The men are back. I recognise the one with Bebe’s belt and trousers. They are searching the plane again. One is pointing up towards the mountain. I spent the night with my feet in a parachute bag which I took to carry everything in. My feet stayed warm. I wanted to get another to adapt into some sort of sleeping bag, but I had better get moving. I work out the plane crashed south west of Ruhengeri, and I am south west of the plane. If that is the case, I could be on the side of Mount Karisimbi, a volcano 4500 metres high. I had to put on the nastily smelling jumper last night to keep warm. Its smell reminds me of pee but I keep it on. I climb down the other side of the ridge, keeping my eyes and ears open. My shoulder has stiffened during the night. The ligaments are certainly damaged. I carry the pack on my other shoulder. I am hungry and thirsty. I find a track. The branches are low, meaning it probably is not man made. I know there are leopard and wild boar in the area. The wild boar could take your leg off just running past. If the leopard is hungry, I could be on the breakfast menu. I think of nice things. Will. My parents. Even Salford University. Each time though, Bebe runs through my thoughts. Naked with blood and guts spewing out of her chest wound. This time she is shouting my name. I can’t get the thought out of my mind. As the day goes on, it is me running naked with blood and guts spewing out a wound in my chest. I start thinking how it must feel. Do you die straight away? Once I heard a shout, and ducked quickly into some bushes, where I waited. It could have been a chimpanzee, which means I am a lot further west than I thought. I may even be in Congo - Kinshasa, where they have pygmy chimpanzees. I hear nothing more. I am in denser woodland now. If it wasn’t so hot and sticky, I would think I may be in an English wood. My senses are deserting me. I find a clear pool and strip off and wash in it. It is deep, and I can’t touch the bottom. I know they have crocodiles in Rwanda, but I think they were more to the east in Kagera National Park. I panic and swim to the edge and get out quickly. I dry myself off with my shirt. I dress and look for somewhere to camp away from the water. I already have a couple of mosquito bites. While I am walking, I feel some discomfort in my knickers. I have to stop, and take a look. I’m horrified to see a leech about two inches long attached to my privates. It can only have got there, while in the water. It has already attached itself at both ends. I have to risk a match. I undress from the waist down, and in the shelter of some trees, strike the match, and put it against the leech. It recoils in pain and drops off. I also singe some pubic hairs and burn my left leg. I daub antiseptic cream on my wounds. There are two round areas devoid of flesh. I place a tissue there to mop up the blood. Dear Diary Monday 6th January 2003. Lost in Virunga National Park. Moved

‘Doctor Samantha Roberts,’ I say, answering the phone. ‘Sam? It’s Peter Mendel. Happy new year!’ ‘Hello Peter. Happy new year to you too. Are we all set?’ ‘Yes. Just confirming that Bebe and I will arrive at Heathrow airport tomorrow at 20.30 from Frankfurt. We fly to Lagos in Nigeria, with an overnight stop. Then onto Kinshasa in the Congo, then onto Goma in Rwanda, where Thomas Ndebale will meet us. He will be our guide and fly us to Ruhengeri.’ ‘It sounds exciting Peter. Everything’s packed. Who is Bebe?’ She asked. ‘Brunhild Braun. Prefers to be known by her initials. Hence Bebe. She’s from Hamburg.’ He said as if it was an apology for something. ‘She will be the photographer.’ ‘I was in touch with the Foreign Office yesterday Peter, they are advising people not to travel to Rwanda or Congo - Kinshasa because of the rebel uprisings. What are you hearing?’ ‘We will be ok in the national park, Sam. The rebels have no reason to be there, and we will have an armed guard. Anyway, I’ve got a lot to get sorted, so I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow, ok?’ ‘Fine. Peter. See you tomorrow.’ I said, putting the phone down. I was juggling two hats. I was a lecturer in zoology at Salford University and a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation Inspector. UNESCO pay towards my salary at Salford, so the university didn’t actually mind me going on trips. This one was to last for two months from 5th January to 5th March. Part of it would be in the rainy season. A gamble which UNESCO felt worthwhile. We were going to study mountain gorillas, and check records from the various national parks. Peter, a 42 year old, Austrian, would be leading the expedition. Peter and I had a past. He was my lover from my first expedition with UNESCO. We split up three years ago. I wanted more than sex on a trip. He didn’t. I suppose Bebe would share his bed on this trip. Peter couldn’t go long without having sex. I could cope. I’ve got Will now. Will and I share a flat, and have done so for two years. Dear Diary. Thursday 2nd January 2003. My last day at Salford. Went to dinner with Will. I shall miss him. Peter rang with flight details. Said goodbye to university for the next 2 months. Friday 3rd January 2003. Heathrow Airport, London, England. Arrived in good time for once to meet Peter off the Frankfurt flight. Peter was his usual self. He looked good. Fit and lean. I met Bebe. She was tall, muscular, and pretty. I could have fancied her myself, but instead, I took an instant dislike to her. Her body language said she was already making a play for Peter. She constantly spoke to him in German, when we had agreed beforehand that all conversation would be in English, the adopted language of the United Nations. We spent the hour waiting for our flight in the restaurant. Bebe sat next to Peter, and watched him the whole time. Hanging on to his every word. This was her first trip with UNESCO, having just joined them. This was my second trip to Africa. Peter was a veteran. Bebe had the latest gear. Some her own, but most of it belonging to UNESCO. She would be taking video and still photographs. Peter and I would be inspectors, and both having a love of gorillas, we would both be doing something we loved, dearly. Dear Diary Friday 3rd January 2003. Met Bebe. Didn’t like her. She fancies Peter, but I found, I still do too. Writing this on the plane. She is sitting next to Peter, pretending to be asleep, with her head on his shoulder. I am sitting in the row behind, watching the film, The Land That Time Forgot. Saturday 4th January 2003. Lagos, Nigeria. After a tiring flight, where Bebe and Peter seem to be getting along just fine, we go to the Lagos Hilton, where we have three rooms booked. We agree to meet in an hour in the restaurant. Bebe and Peter are late. They walk in arm in arm. Didn’t take him or her long did it? She’s packed a summer dress. Peter and I are in our bush ’uniform’ of Khaki shirt and trousers. I’ve even got on my walking boots, new this year, to help break them in. ‘Hello Sam.’ she says. Sam? I never said she could call me that. ’Peter and I thought we would go into the disco after dinner. Do you mind?’ Asking me in such a way that said I wasn’t invited. ‘Why should I mind, Bebe?’ ‘We just thought that you might have liked to come, and we….’ ‘Would prefer to go on your own? Of course. No I don’t want to go anyway. Have a good time.’ Dear Diary Saturday 4th January 2003. Bebe and Peter dumped me to go clubbing. Went to bed. Too hot to sleep. Heard them come back at 03.00. They both went into his room. Sunday 5th January 2003. Ruhengeri, Rwanda. We arrive at Ruhengeri, having changed planes at Goma. Thomas Ndebale is there to meet us. I’ve met him before. He doesn’t look well. He says he is ok. We load all our gear into the plane. I’ve got one rucksack with a change of clothes in it. Bebe’s camera gear takes up most the plane. ‘Peter? How are we going to shift all this gear?’ I ask. ‘Don’t know. When we get to Virunga we will have to store some of it.’ ‘Peter.’ Bebe says. ‘I need all this. Can’t we hire some porters?’ she says, putting her hand on his arm and leaving it there. ‘We’ll see.’ he says. I notice she has on a belt with a large BB on the buckle. ‘Can I go in the front, Peter. So I can take some photo’s?’ she says. ‘I don’t mind. If it’s alright with Sam, you can.’ ‘Sam? Can I?’ ‘I don’t mind.’ I say. We climb into the four seater plane. Thomas and Bebe in front. Peter and I are in the back. There is equipment packed everywhere. The plane struggles to take off, and only just clears the end of the runway. We turn south west and start to climb. We head for Virunga National Park. We fly for about two hours, and are now over a partly hilly wooded area. It has got very windy and we get buffeted around. The equipment stacked behind us, starts to tip over. Peter climbs over the seats and tries to restack it. I turn to help. Suddenly the plane nose dives. Bebe shouts something in German. Neither Peter nor I have our seat belts on. Peter falls past me. I turn to face the front. Thomas has collapsed over the controls. Bebe has reached across to grab the joystick. Peter pulls Thomas back and Bebe has the stick, but is positioned in the wrong seat. The whole conversation is in German. I only understand the odd words. Bebe has pulled the plane out of the dive. We have to put down. We can’t move Thomas. I feel for a pulse, but there is none. Peter spots a clearing, and shouts to Bebe. She lines the plane up, and comes into land. The plane touches down with a most enormous thump, and as I look out the window, I see a wheel fly off past us. The plane lurches back into the air. Bebe tries to land again. She doesn’t know about the wheel. I shout to warn her. She tells me to shut up. The plane touches down and digs in and spins around. The wing digs into the earth, and the tip breaks off. The plane skids into a large flat rock in the clearing and takes off, sideways. I think we are all screaming. We are now going backwards. Trees are crashing into us as the plane spins, and then nosedives into the ground. Peter had hold of Thomas and as the plane is spinning, cannons into the back of his head. Peter’s face splits open. As the plane slows to a standstill, it collapses around us. Jagged metal appears everywhere. The plane has stopped. Somehow, at some point, I had managed to do up my seatbelt. I think I’ve dislocated my left shoulder. Peter looks in a bad way. Besides his face, a tree branch is sticking into his stomach. I don’t know how far. The pilots seat has crushed his legs. Bebe has leg wounds, but they look superficial. I am medical officer on this trip. I struggle to undo my belt. Bebe turns around to speak to Peter. She screams when she sees him. ‘Bebe? Bebe? Are you hurt?’ I ask. ‘I can smell aviation fuel. Come on, we’ve got to get out.’ ‘I’ve hurt my legs, a bit, but not badly.’ She says. There is no need to open the door. It has gone in the crash. ‘I need you to put my shoulder back in. It’s dislocated.’ I say. ‘Get out of the plane, Bebe!’ ‘What about Peter?’ she says. ‘Lets make sure we are able to get out first.’ She climbs out. I look at her legs. There seems to be no injuries and she seems to be able to walk ok. She helps me out. ’Have you ever put back a dislocation?’ I ask. ‘No,’ ‘Well. Just hold my arm. I’ll twist it. When I shout, ‘push‘. Push as hard as you can. Ok?’ ‘I think so.’ ‘Good.’ I twist my arm, then adjust my shoulder. I shout ’push’ and she pushes. There is a loud click and an almighty pain shoots from my shoulder down to my hand. It has gone back in place. Immediately I climb back into the plane. I look at Peter. His feet and face are smashed. The branch has entered his stomach. I feel behind him and am horrified to feel the branch coming out through his back. There is really nothing I can do for him. I inject him with as much morphine as I dare. He will probably die before night fall. I double check Thomas for a pulse. He is already dead. I try the radio. Not a peep. ’Mayday, Mayday. This is …..’ I don’t know our call sign. Worse I don’t know where we are. Bebe has sat down on the rock we hit when we were landing. I go up to her. She has a look on her face which seems to say that the accident is really inconvenient to her. ‘Bebe. There’s nothing we can do for Peter. He will die soon. We need to get help.’ To our right was a mountain. I figured if one of us climbed it we may be able to get a signal on the mobile phone. I had already tried it and got nothing. Bebe seemed out of it. I would have to go. ‘You look after Peter. Give him anything he needs. Get the medical kit out the plane. I’ll take the flare gun, in case I see help. ‘Ok. Will he be alright?’ She is obviously concussed. I leave her sitting on the rock and give her a drink. ‘See you soon.’ Chapter Two. Beyond Help. I set off walking up a track. When I look up I can see a ridge. If I can climb that, I could access both sides to see if I can get a signal. I start to climb. I have climbed around a kilometre. Still no signal. Suddenly there is a gun shot from the area of the plane. Help has arrived. They have fired the gun to tell me they are there and to return to the plane. Relieved I start to climb down. Half an hour later I am not far from the plane. I am on a ridge above it. I can just make it out. There are four or five men in the clearing near the plane. Should I shout? I look closer. Two men are unloading the plane. Three men are with Bebe on the rock. Why are two of them holding her down? She has no trousers on. The third, a white man must be a doctor looking at her wounds. No! He hasn’t any trousers on either. He is lying on top of her. God, he is raping her! I must help her. What can I do? I only have one flare. It might take one of them out. That would leave four to do the same to me. Bebe is beyond my help. I watch helplessly while they take it in turns with her. The white man who was wearing tatty trousers tries on hers. They are too big, but ok when he does the belt up. The belt with BB on it. Another man, undresses her and tries on her shirt. She is shouting. One of them picks up a rag and presses it into her mouth. Each has had their turn with her and they return to looting the plane, leaving Bebe lying on the rock, stunned. Bebe’s photographic cases are open. They are helping themselves. She sees an opportunity to run and sets off down the clearing towards where I am. The white man wearing her trousers, picks up a high powered rifle and carefully takes aim. They must either be rebels or poachers. He fires. A naked Bebe is running about one hundred metres away. The shot hits her in her back. Her chest explodes as blood and flesh is blasted away. She runs for a few more paces, then drops to the floor. I doubt she can be alive. I watched transfixed from my vantage point up in the rocks. The man who fired the gun walked up to Bebe. He looks at her, lying face down, in a pool of blood. He rolls her over with his foot and takes aim again, blasting her face off. A retort echoed around the valley. He suddenly looked up, towards to where I am sitting. I stayed still. I didn’t think he could possibly see me. He went back to the plane. I doubt they would torch it. The smoke would probably be seen. I looked at my watch. I start to plan my escape. At the moment I had the clothes I was wearing. A shirt, shorts, socks and boots. I also had my little backpack containing basic medical supplies, creams and plasters, pen, notebook and my diary. My rucksack was still in the plane. The only other thing I had was my watch. It was 16.28. They departed at 17.17 and I waited a further hour before deciding to go back to plane and get what I could. I walked up to Bebe. You could see the bloodstained earth through the gaping hole in her chest. The right side of her face was scattered over a wide area. Insects had already moved in. I couldn’t move her. If they came back they would know if someone had been here, if she was moved. I left her and moved nearer the plane. The flare gun at the ready. I walked past the rag that had been stuffed in her mouth, that she had pulled out when she ran off. It was her knickers. Other items were scattered on the ground. If they were rebels, they may have booby trapped the plane. I thought they were probably poachers. They wore no uniforms. I checked as best I could. I could see nothing unusual so I climbed in. Thomas had had his throat cut. Peter had been shot in the chest. He was dead and was no longer in pain. I kissed my finger and put it to his bloodstained lips. ‘Goodbye, Peter.’ I cried as I said it. ’Rest in peace. Bebe‘s with you.’ I looked for anything I could find of use. All the medical equipment was gone, including the planes emergency kit. The emergency beacon was smashed, and inoperative. I wondered if anyone would even know where we were. I couldn’t find any maps at all, but I found a compass under Peter’s seat. My rucksack was missing. They would come back if they worked out they had different sizes of clothes, but they probably would have just put them on. I tried not to imagine someone running around Rwanda wearing the lacy Marks and Spencer knickers I brought in case I got together with Peter again. My fleece was missing. I found a jumper on the ground outside the plane, with sleeves cut off at the elbows. Cast off by one of the men. It stunk, but I took it. I found a torn survival blanket. I remember Peter would have some matches in his pocket, so I went back to him and took them. I had to get out of here fast. I was in fear they might come back. I decided to spend the night on the ridge that I watched Bebe’s last few minutes from. I climbed back to the ridge. I had a little food, and some water. Dear Diary Sunday 5th January 2003 Plane crashed killing Thomas. Poachers killed Peter and Bebe. They did so awful things to her before killing her. They have looted everything. Besides the clothes I stand up in, I have very limited supplies, a compass, a torn survival blanket, some food and water, half a box of matches and my trusty diary. Monday 6th January 2003. Virunga National Park. I spend a freezing cold night. I hear a noise, down by the plane. It is 06.11. I peer over the edge. The men are back. I recognise the one with Bebe’s belt and trousers. They are searching the plane again. One is pointing up towards the mountain. I spent the night with my feet in a parachute bag which I took to carry everything in. My feet stayed warm. I wanted to get another to adapt into some sort of sleeping bag, but I had better get moving. I work out the plane crashed south west of Ruhengeri, and I am south west of the plane. If that is the case, I could be on the side of Mount Karisimbi, a volcano 4500 metres high. I had to put on the nastily smelling jumper last night to keep warm. Its smell reminds me of pee but I keep it on. I climb down the other side of the ridge, keeping my eyes and ears open. My shoulder has stiffened during the night. The ligaments are certainly damaged. I carry the pack on my other shoulder. I am hungry and thirsty. I find a track. The branches are low, meaning it probably is not man made. I know there are leopard and wild boar in the area. The wild boar could take your leg off just running past. If the leopard is hungry, I could be on the breakfast menu. I think of nice things. Will. My parents. Even Salford University. Each time though, Bebe runs through my thoughts. Naked with blood and guts spewing out of her chest wound. This time she is shouting my name. I can’t get the thought out of my mind. As the day goes on, it is me running naked with blood and guts spewing out a wound in my chest. I start thinking how it must feel. Do you die straight away? Once I heard a shout, and ducked quickly into some bushes, where I waited. It could have been a chimpanzee, which means I am a lot further west than I thought. I may even be in Congo - Kinshasa, where they have pygmy chimpanzees. I hear nothing more. I am in denser woodland now. If it wasn’t so hot and sticky, I would think I may be in an English wood. My senses are deserting me. I find a clear pool and strip off and wash in it. It is deep, and I can’t touch the bottom. I know they have crocodiles in Rwanda, but I think they were more to the east in Kagera National Park. I panic and swim to the edge and get out quickly. I dry myself off with my shirt. I dress and look for somewhere to camp away from the water. I already have a couple of mosquito bites. While I am walking, I feel some discomfort in my knickers. I have to stop, and take a look. I’m horrified to see a leech about two inches long attached to my privates. It can only have got there, while in the water. It has already attached itself at both ends. I have to risk a match. I undress from the waist down, and in the shelter of some trees, strike the match, and put it against the leech. It recoils in pain and drops off. I also singe some pubic hairs and burn my left leg. I daub antiseptic cream on my wounds. There are two round areas devoid of flesh. I place a tissue there to mop up the blood. Dear Diary Monday 6th January 2003. Lost in Virunga National Park. Moved

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Butiran belanjawan karangan pmr english inggeris

Activities - Training in Jakarta Training Design - Observation trip in Japan (invited) - Investigations on the situation of utilization of satellite information in the ASEAN member states - Development of plans to use satellite information in disaster management operations Training participants - Staff of disaster management authorities of the ASEAN member states: 2 persons / cours - Staff of AHA Centre: about 2 persons / course - Participants in the training in Jakarta from the ASEAN member states: 2 persons / trip - Staff of AHA Centre: 2 persons / trip

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