“Leave Now”: The Divine Prompt That Saved 148 Lives Just Before Indonesia’s Deadliest Earthquake
Sometimes, the line between survival and catastrophe is just a matter of seconds—and, for one Indonesian pilot, perhaps a whisper from the divine.
On September 28, 2018, Captain Ricosetta Mafella was preparing for a routine takeoff from Palu, a coastal city in central Indonesia.
The Batik Air pilot had just landed moments earlier, delayed nine minutes due to turbulent winds. But as he and his crew turned the plane around for its next flight, something shifted—not in the weather, but in his spirit.
“I heard a voice—clear, urgent,” Mafella later told the Christian Broadcasting Network. “‘Get out of here. Depart early.’ I knew I had to move.”
He didn’t hesitate. Urging his flight crew to expedite pre-departure checks and pushing ground staff to pick up the pace, Mafella broke from the usual rhythm of commercial aviation. By 5:52 p.m., three minutes ahead of schedule, his aircraft—carrying 148 passengers and crew—was accelerating down the runway.
Exactly six minutes later, the earth began to roar.
A massive 7.5-magnitude earthquake struck the region at 6:02 p.m., its epicenter just 80 kilometers north of Palu. The quake unleashed towering waves, triggered devastating landslides, and ultimately claimed more than 4,000 lives in what would become one of the deadliest natural disasters in Indonesia’s history.
In an emotional Instagram post following the event, Mafella reflected, “There was a strange unease during takeoff. I didn’t know why at the time, but I thank God for the voice that told me to go. Had we delayed even 30 seconds, we might not have made it.”
For Mafella, the experience left no room for doubt.
“I don’t need signs or miracles to believe,” he said. “I lived it. God is real, and I owe Him everything.”
Yet his remarkable escape was not a solo act.
Inside the air traffic control tower, 21-year-old Anthonius Gunawan Agung stayed at his post as tremors began to shake the building. While others evacuated, Agung remained calm—focused on one last task.
“Batik 6321, you are clear for takeoff,” he radioed to Mafella’s cockpit, just before the ground beneath him gave way.
Tragically, Agung’s courage cost him his life. With the tower crumbling and no safe route down, he jumped from the structure. He survived the fall but died from his injuries before medics could reach him.
In an interview with the BBC, Mafella later revealed the haunting message Agung’s colleagues sent him via WhatsApp.
“They told me they begged him to run. But he replied, ‘Wait. Batik is still here.’”
Conclusion: A Voice, A Choice, A Sacrifice
Captain Ricosetta Mafella’s experience stands as a powerful story of faith, instinct, and split-second obedience—an extraordinary decision made in the narrow space between normalcy and devastation. Whether seen as divine intervention or uncanny intuition, his early departure spared 148 souls from potential disaster.
Yet equally moving is the quiet bravery of Anthonius Gunawan Agung, the young controller who made sure that plane left safely—knowing full well he might not escape.
Together, their stories are forever linked: one man who listened to a voice from above, and another who became a guardian on the ground. In a moment when everything could have been lost, they became symbols of courage, conviction, and extraordinary sacrifice in the face of the unimaginable.