'Never happier to see the back of a plane'

When President Cyril Ramaphosa announced that he and six other heads of state would undertake a historic peace mission to Ukraine and Russia, little did I know what a harrowing journey it would be.

Initially, we were told we would depart on May 28, but the trip was postponed at the last minute because of clashing schedules of the heads of state.

The departure date was moved to June 12, then the next day. The plan was for Ramaphosa to meet Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelensky on Thursday and then Russia’s President Vladimir Putin on Friday.

The media contingent would be hitching a ride with the Presidential Protection Services (PPS) team who were sponsoring the flight because “none of the private charter companies want to fly into Russia for fear of being targeted due to sanctions against Russia”.

We were going to fly to Warsaw, Poland, where we would stay overnight and then on to Rzeszow, in the south, to drop off those taking the 15-hour train trip to Kyiv. Those of us covering the Russian leg would fly to St Petersburg, or take the train.

As the travel arrangements kept changing, the Presidency kept apologising.

Some of us who arrived at the Waterkloof Airforce Base on Monday wondered if the trip was still going ahead. As we waited to be briefed at the base that evening, we watched on TV as the presidential motorcade arrived in Geneva, Switzerland.

We were told to return at 10am on Tuesday.

Eventually, at 10pm on Wednesday, staff began stamping our passports and we were told to drop our luggage in the hanger.

“S**t, I'm going to a warzone,” I thought, watching soldiers and police weighing and loading our luggage. Some of the cargo was in sealed brown boxes. A colleague was caught recording a video inside the hangar. She was tapped on the shoulder and asked to delete it.

We returned from the hanger where we were told we would fly to OR Tambo International Airport for fuel, then begin the 11-hour flight to Poland. We were flying with some members of the elite police unit, they said, adding we should neither speak to nor photograph them.

We boarded and excitedly picked our seats, eventually taking off at about 1.30am.

I was dozing when we encountered our first problem. Monitoring the flight plan on my screen, I noticed the plane veering off course as we entered Italian airspace. It appeared we were flying back home, then in circles several times, finally resuming course.

SAA pilot Mpho Mamashela announced our plane had been “flagged” over the Mediterranean and had to obtain clearance to fly in Italian airspace.

We watched helplessly as the Presidency tweeted videos of Ramaphosa in Rzeszow on the train with his African counterparts and demanded answers, which never came

We were thrilled when we landed at Warsaw’s Chopin Airport at about 1.30pm, eager for the onward journey.

I noticed the plane did not park on the apron next to the terminal building, but further down the runway. We were asked to remain seated.

It was then we received word that Ramaphosa had also landed at Chopin Airport, leaving us angry and confused because this had not been communicated. We were then told that Polish reporters were outside, taking pictures of our aircraft.

After frantically trying to catch up on the news and file stories about Ramaphosa's working visit to Poland, we asked the Presidency why they had not briefed us and why the office was tweeting embargoed information about the trip.

Then we waited. And waited. And waited.

We watched helplessly as the Presidency tweeted videos of Ramaphosa in Rzeszow on the train with his African counterparts. We demanded answers, which never came.

The Presidency was mum on why we couldn't disembark; we nibbled leftover snacks.

A distressed Rhoode unleashed an astonishing tirade, saying the Polish government was 'racist' in refusing to allow us to disembark, that his female colleague had been strip-searched, that they demanded original permits and not copies, and were trying to 'sabotage Ramaphosa's peace mission'

The pilot announced he was leaving some crew on board so he could get his 10-hour minimum break required by aviation regulations.

As the crew opened the doors at the back of the plane to let in air, we gathered to watch the sunset. We reminisced about previous trips and how different they had been. Some even missed load-shedding. Others wanted to be home for Father's Day. I feared I would miss my traditional wedding. We all felt a sense of foreboding.

After the sunset, we realised we weren't going anywhere and settled down to sleep. We slept, woke up, and slept again.

Meanwhile, PPS head Maj-Gen Wally Rhoode had been pacing up and down. At midnight we found out why.

In a departure from the rules, one of the senior police officers came to the back of the plane and told us to bring our cameras because he wanted to show us something.

As we stepped outside, a distressed Rhoode unleashed an astonishing tirade, saying the Polish government was “racist” in refusing to allow us to disembark, that his female colleague had been strip-searched, that they demanded original permits and not copies, and were trying to “sabotage Ramaphosa's peace mission”.

He also said the Polish wanted to remove any arms.

After we filed our stories to our publications, packages from Burger King arrived as we had run out of food. At least the Polish airports company agreed to clean the plane and provide sanitation services.

We had been in transit for more than 24 hours. To cheer us up, the police played us South African bangers such as 'Sista Bettina' and the Afrikaans hit 'Mamma Toe'

As the drama unfolded, we heard about air strikes in Kyiv. The thought of not returning crossed my mind. I thought about my wedding. My daughter. My dreams. My life.

I woke desperate to brush my teeth and take a shower.

The pilot returned to tell us he was waiting for clearance to leave for Rzeszow and we would soon be taking off.

We had been in transit for more than 24 hours. To cheer us up, the police played us South African bangers such as Sista Bettina and the Afrikaans hit Mamma Toe.

After we received clearance to leave, a black vehicle with tinted windows sped up and out came men in suits. I got the feeling that we were going nowhere.

Three hours later, it was announced that the ministers were going to meet back home to discuss the impasse and we would be booked into hotels in Warsaw.

After that, we were to told to pack up and wait for a bus.

As we exited the plane, we saw our negotiator having a go at the Polish authorities. Later we heard that they wanted to open the crates to see what weapons we were carrying and what we had on board.

It felt like a hostage situation. Some officers and reporters became impatient and walked along the runway, only to be threatened with arrest.

As we boarded the bus, I looked back and I've never been happier to see the back of a plane.