Unhappy Landing of Flight 150

The strangest things happen to air liners in Africa. A BOAC flight into Nairobi once touched down by mistake in the game park just outside of town.

Last month Ibo passengers on West African Airways' London-to-Lagos jet were hauled off the plane and machine-gunned in the northern Nigerian way station of Kano. Pan American's New York-to-Nairobi Flight 150 lived up to the tradition. Last week a simple refueling halt enroute grew into an international incident.

At the Liberian capital of Monrovia, Flight 150 took on a party of dapper, dark-suited Guineans -- Foreign Minister Louis Beavogui, three aides and 15 "students" bound for a conference of African foreign ministers in Ethiopia. Apparently they were not aware that an interim stop would put them down briefly at Accra, capital of Ghana. Otherwise, they might have traveled another route. After all, since last February, when Kwame Nkrumah was ousted by a military coup and took refuge in Guinea, the two nations have been the bitterest of enemies.

Awesome Recognition. After Flight 150 put down at Accra airport, the first hint of trouble came as a squad of Ghanaian security police, checking passports and looking for prospective political prisoners, strode up the aisle. With an awesome shriek, the West African enemies recognized one another. Some of the Guineans fastened their seat belts and howled with indignation; the Ghanaians unbuckled them in short order and trotted them off to prison, declaring that the Guinea delegation would be held as hostages until Guinea's President Sekou Toure repatriated "100 Ghanaians held against their will in Guinea."

Toure responded in the only way he could. The plane belonged to Pan Am, and Pan Am was, after all, a U.S. airline; so he placed both the Pan Am agent in Conakry and U.S. Ambassador Robinson Mcllvaine under house arrest.

Peace Missions. Toure's action triggered a major diplomatic response. Down from A.O.U. headquarters in Addis Ababa flew a "peace mission" eager to resolve the crisis. In from the United Nations clattered a message from Secretary-General U Thant, condemning both sides and expressing "distress." Washington issued a "strong protest" to Guinea and dropped subtle hints that it might suspend its $70 million in foreign aid unless Ambassador Mcllvaine was released. Even Nigeria's military ruler, Lieut. Colonel Yakubu Gowon, was moved to send the commander of his ten-ship navy to Accra for explanations.

Finally, Sekou Toure reluctantly released Ambassador Mcllvaine and offered to pay the air fare from Conakry to Accra of any Ghanaian who wanted to be repatriated. Toure knew well enough that few would take the offer: most of the Ghanaians in Conakry are members of Nkrumah's personal entourage who, in Accra, would face jail, a trial, and perhaps a firing squad. At week's end, Ghana's strongman, Lieut. General Joseph Ankrah flew off--via a Ghana Airways jet--to Addis Ababa to talk the whole thing over. After huddling with Emperor Haile Selassie, Liberia's President Tubman and Egypt's Nasser, Ankrah relented. To Accra went a message: turn the imprisoned Guineans loose.

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