THE only debris here, thankfully, is in the trees: dozens of children’s model rockets that flew too high or too low caught the wind in just the wrong way and wound up harmlessly festooning a few otherwise bare oaks on the campus of the U.S. Space Camp in Huntsville, Alabama.
Eighteen students from Dwight School, New York were finishing up the week they had been dreaming of for two years: six days of handson experience with G-forces and zero gravity, with payloads and spacewalks, with rocketry and astronomy, all leading to a grueling six-hour ‘mission’ that still flew by faster than any day back at school.
Here, in the shadow of old Saturn rockets and a fullsize mockup of a shuttle, and just outside the fence of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) complex that designs and builds propulsion systems, it is an article of faith that men and women will continue blasting free of Earth’s atmosphere.
Omar Bayramoglu, 10, said he would see to that.
“I’m going to be the first Muslim to go into space one day,” he said, with the born self-assurance of at least a fighter pilot, if not an astronaut.
(He could become at least the first American Muslim.
A Saudi prince flew aboard the Space Shuttle Discovery in 1985.)
He had wanted to for as long as he could remember and for the oldest of reasons: “At nighttime, you look out and wonder,” he said, craning his head up at the overcast sky.
“And then the thrill and the excitement – the G-forces -and everything!”
Campers were as sheltered from the earthly world as astronauts in a space station.
Their tubular metal ‘habitat’ of cramped dormitory rooms had no windows, no televisions.
A camp official who brought in a stack of newspapers early in the week got a tonguelashing from his colleagues.
But, truth be told, these students showed the same inattention as the general public.
Before Saturday, none remembered – and few had even heard in the first place – that the Space Shuttle Columbia was in space.
On February 1, 2003, during its re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere after completing a 16-day mission, the shuttle disintegrated, leading to the tragic loss of all seven astronauts on board.
“Everyone lost interest,” said Simon Nunez, 10. Joel Alba, 11, said that the disaster was so shocking because no one expected it to happen.
“They’ve been doing it so long, it’s almost like a routine – they go up, and they always come back safe,” he said.
“I thought they corrected their mistakes from the Space Shuttle Challenger, but I guess we still have some work to do.”
The Space Camp programme, which has a financial affiliation with Goldman Sachs Group – changed its motto on Thursday to “The Mission Continues.”
About the only difference between this week’s session and any other’s was the steady stream of TV vans and reporters looking for a local angle, for a telegenic reaction closer to home than Texas, where much of the debris from the Columbia was found.
Marquis Campbell, an exceptionally well-spoken 12-yearold, obliged, getting himself on TV and in the newspapers. (“Could you send me a copy?” he asked his latest interviewer.)
The camp borrowed much from NASA, including its euphemisms.
During the six-hour mission on Thursday, counselor Laurel Robbin introduced a series of anomalies – otherwise known as unexpected system failures.
The students had to work together to overcome any mishaps.
My daughter Bella, 12, a mission controller, felt helpless at first.
“I’m on Earth, they’re in space, I saw them, they saw me, but we couldn’t contact each other,” she said.
“They could’ve died, because I couldn’t get in contact.”
But aside from Omar and Simon, few of the students wanted to work in the space programme, though all said it must go on.
Bella said it was between NASA and becoming a banker.
“I’m good at math,” she said, getting no objections from her mother.
Danielle Bell, 12, said she was too claustrophobic.
“I’d like to help them go to Mars, but I’m not that big on going into space,” she said.
“I couldn’t even do scuba, because I can’t have that mask on my face.”
She said the lack of free time at camp made her feel just as anxious.
“We only have 30 minutes at night to call home, take a shower and write in our journals, which we’re supposed to do every day,” she said.
“That’s why you smell like that,” said my son Hayek, 10, halfjokingly, who promptly got the smack he deserved.
Marquis, for one, wanted to work for NASA but had no interest in going into space.
“Nooooooo,” he said, waving his hands for emphasis.
“I’m just not a space person.
Not that I’m scared or anything. Uh-huh.
“Not really.
I would go, but I really feel my duty’s down here,” he said.
“I would like to be a psychologist and work for NASA.
Astronauts have to have the right mental state.
It’s just that I like to help people.”
How would he help an astronaut get over fears? “I’d just say,
‘Think of it like flying in an airplane,’” Marquis said.
“You might be afraid, but you have to do it.
And it’s like one in a million chances that you get in an accident.”
Real danger, accidents, risk and fear seem very far away from here, of course, far enough for high school freshmen to make sophomoric jokes.
When someone else’s model rocket came apart a few hundred feet up, falling to the ground without its parachute, Hayek shouted – in a stage whisper that his friends could hear but the counselors couldn’t – “They died!”
Then, he found four ants inside his rocket but knew he had assembled it poorly. Guiltily, he showed the ants to Laurel.
“No live cargo, Hayek,” she said, shaking them free.
The parachutes on two or three did not deploy.
Half a dozen wound up in the trees.
All in all, a failure rate was not exactly worthy of the big leagues just yet.
Graduation came at last, and everyone got a certificate, pins, a T-shirt and other loot.
Omar appeared well on his way to becoming the country’s first Muslim in space.
He alone won the camp’s Right Stuff medal for all-around excellence.
Speechless, he took a bow instead.
With that, he and his fellow campers scooted out of their blue jumpsuits, grabbed their bags and said their goodbyes.
Earthbound for now, they are New York-bound once more.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune.
