The Price of Life

by Nigel Brennan

  ‘As you would be aware, we have made various efforts to convey to the kidnappers the offer of a family payment of US$250 000. On 12 January negotiators contacted the spokesman for the kidnappers to make the offer. The offer was rejected and the demand for US$2.5 million was reiterated. Third-party intermediaries have also relayed the offer to the kidnappers.’

  The letter continued, ‘While a decision to proceed with a fundraising campaign is entirely the family’s to make, I would reiterate that any publicity of the case would likely raise the kidnappers’ expectations that the full ransom demand will be met. Separately, I would also reiterate that the activities of third-party contractors have the potential to undercut or derail Australian and Canadian Government efforts.’

  The weird thing is that Ham didn’t mention fundraising in his email, but it is something that we had been discussing a lot with DFAT recently.

  Ham’s response is just as prompt; it’s become a game of email tag. I’m glad he’s running this.

  Re. your concerns about fundraising and the activities of third-party contractors, both points are noted; however, the family must consider all options and we’ll agree to disagree on some of your comments. After six-plus months it feels we have really made very little progress. Thanks and apologies for being a pain in the arse, but we have to do what we have to do.’

  That’s Ham: subtle as a sledgehammer.

  Wednesday, 4 March

  We have a big meeting in Canberra. This time it’s Mum, Dad, Ham and I. Once again we are off to see the AFP and DFAT, and after months of requesting it and in the last six weeks being downright belligerent, we finally have a meeting with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Stephen Smith.

  Our meeting with DFAT once again has a cast of thousands. We revisit old strategies and ask about the state of Somalia’s politics. The abbreviated answer to which is still ‘shit’, just varying depths of.

  There’s been a change of government and the Ethiopian troops have moved out, but neither action has significantly improved the situation. Al-Shabaab, the splinter group of the Union of Islamic Courts, is still throwing its weight around. There are still disaffected, disenfranchised youths who it would seem are willing to risk all for an idea of a heaven filled with virgins. The formation of the new government is encouraging to a point, but the situation is still fragile. It is a government in name only. There is a lot of militia fighting going on for control of the state.

  The new government is working out of Djibouti, a country to the north of Somalia. The new government is under constant attack, and as a result President Sharif Ahmed is struggling, and governance is difficult. Violence in Mogadishu has intensified as Al-Shabaab has targeted African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) forces. Twenty thousand people each month are fleeing the city. AMISOM’s role is protecting Mogadishu International Airport (MIA), and they are suffering heavy losses. Al-Shabaab’s objective is to institute Sharia law. Not all the population want this.

  The Australian government still sees value in engaging with the new government, we’re told. The president has spoken out about the kidnapping of Nigel and Amanda, but he’s not thought to have much influence in Mogadishu.

  DFAT discusses its TPI option, the coked-up warlord, which it views as our best hope. The source has his own militia and is in the process of trying to get the hostage takers to release Nigel and Amanda for costs. But at this point in time he is not in a position to access them as they are in an area outside his control.

  Once again we are told that bringing the issue to the attention of the media will be counterproductive. The HTs are frustrated with the lack of publicity the kidnapping is getting. Australia has a large Somali community and information gets back to the country.

  Abdi, we are told, has finally been debriefed in Nairobi, two months later – could the wheels have turned any slower? They could get nothing from him other than what was in his earlier media releases.

  We also spend some time with the AFP. They all agree that the lost-dog-poster strategy was flawed. In fact, they don’t argue any of its merits (if there were any).

  We tell them how unhappy we are with the no-talking strategy. The Australian government can understand our frustration, but the Canadians have absolute faith in this approach, and the two are united. They confirm there has been a POL from a TPI. It appears Amanda and Nigel are unwell but have received medicine. They have received books and writing material. They are getting two meals a day and are allowed to wash their clothes weekly.

  We are assured there are other strategies, if for some reason the current strategy doesn’t work out. How could it not? Everyone has such faith in it and the governments’ abilities to get Nige and Amanda home.

  In the car on our way to see the minister, we run over the document we spent days compiling, indicating what we think our fundraising options are. We’d forwarded this to the minister, as requested, so he could review it before our meeting. It’s a completely honest and open account of what we think we can achieve. We even ask DFAT if it has a preferred publicist.

  In the meeting it’s clear Stephen Smith has barely even looked at it. Under no circumstances can the government condone fundraising or put their name to anything. There’s nothing else. No support. No suggestions. Zip. One of Smith’s offsiders warns us we will be opening up a can of worms if we embroil ourselves with the media. The media will approach our family and intrude on our privacy and that of our children. (Ah, good one, go the guilty-parent play.) We need to bear in mind there may be critics of Nigel and of the family. It’s a veiled warning: do we want to end up like the Corbys? That can go both ways, I think. The AFP hasn’t exactly come up smelling of roses over either the Haneef or the Lapthorn case.

  We ask a hypothetical question: if we raise more than US$250K, will the government use it to facilitate the release of Amanda and Nigel? That is, will they help us move the cash if the kidnappers and another agency, such as Mick F’s, come to an agreed price over that amount? No matter how many ways or angles we go at it, we can’t get an answer.

  I watch Ham go in guns blazing and by the end of the meeting he’s muttering under his breath, ‘This was a fucking waste of time.’

  It is completely exhausting listening to this crap. Everyone talks in riddles. I’m glad Canberra is so climatically inhospitable; these people deserve punishment for being so bloody obtuse.

  Moore Park

  Tuesday, 17 March

  Lorinda has had a call from Amanda; the tone of the conversation is ominous: ‘You have to tell me how much money you have; there is a gun to my head.’ Lorinda tells her they are doing everything they can and to please trust her.

  Amanda says, ‘These people aren’t joking. They will kill me.’

  Amanda goes on to say that the gang is aware that the Canadians have less money than the Australians. She says that Mick is a problem, that he is making the HTs really angry and nervous.

  I quickly jot the notes down as Lorinda relays the conversation to me; it looks so innocuous on paper. Lots of ‘Amanda said’ and ‘Lorinda replied’. I know the call would have been harrowing.

  I’m on the phone in a nanosecond, trying to find out what’s going down. Have Ham and Mum sent in Mick F in without our knowledge? Mick hasn’t acted but he has established an in to the gang if we want it. But half the Brennan family think Mick is too inexperienced, and Amanda’s family believe their government’s line that this can be done with minimal amounts of money. So to date the family has made no effort to raise any.

  Mick is pushing for a deal whereby we hand over our money to get Nige released and he then does whatever’s necessary to get Amanda out. Ham and Mum like the idea. I think it’s too dangerous. I’ve just finished reading Brian Keenan’s book in which he had to make that decision as well, to leave John McCarthy behind. It makes me wonder when that would change: how long Nige would have to be held before he’d make a similar choice.

  Nigel

  The Couch House

  Thurs
day, 16 March

  I can hear Romeo across the hall talking to Amanda. My ears prick up but I can’t hear any detail. They seem to talk for hours. It’s been an ongoing theme of the last seven months that whenever the higher ranking guys come, they spend hours with Amanda and then give me five minutes of their time. There seems to be a lot of commotion in the hallway, with boys walking back and forth.

  Then the sickening feeling, like that of touching an electric fence, from hearing the sound of an impending conference call, the sound of birds and whistling blasts from the speakerphone as it’s walked down the hall and into Amanda’s room.

  Now completely alert and sitting up, I strain to hear the conversation and try to block out the background noise from the boys. The phone connects.

  ‘Mum, I need to speak to you, call me back,’ Amanda says. A short time later another phone call comes in.

  ‘Mum, we only have three minutes. Someone called Mick has told these guys he is only here for Nigel.’ There is a short break then surprise in Amanda’s voice, ‘They don’t want to speak to Mick.’

  ‘Mum, they don’t want to speak with Mick,’ she repeats. Silence, then Amanda’s voice again; she’s speaking to Romeo.

  ‘She says that Mick is working on his own; he is not working for the families.’ I’m confused as to who Mick is. I thought they were dealing with Mark in Nairobi.

  Again silence, then I hear Lorinda’s voice now on loudspeaker.

  ‘They should not speak to Mick or anyone working for Mick; he does not speak for our family or for the Brennans. They have to call the number that I have given you for Nairobi because they have all the money. Is Nigel okay? Are you together?’

  ‘We have been separated, but I know he is okay,’ Amanda replies, then silence. The phone call seems to be over as I can now hear Amanda talking to whoever is in the room with her, but I can’t work out what is being said.

  Frustration consumes me. Who the hell is Mick? And what’s he got to do with whatever is going on?

  Saturday, 21 March

  In the morning I’m confronted by Captain Yahya, Romeo and a few of the other boys. I’m handed the phone. I’m surprised to hear a strange man’s voice on the other end. He asks me to identify myself and explain my condition. I am no sooner finished than the phone is ripped from my grasp and they all walk out, leaving me more confused than ever.

  Nicky

  Moore Park

  Saturday, 21 March

  Lorinda gets a number of new messages on her mobile from Amanda: ‘If my life depends on Mick, then my life is over.’

  Lorinda is not allowed to answer the call and another message comes in from Amanda: ‘I need to speak to you. Call me back.’

  The AFP is pissed off beyond measure that we have done something behind their backs, which is not entirely true. They were well aware that we had entered into discussions with Mick. It appears that the RCMP has given DFAT an absolute bollocking as they feel the AFP has no control over the family, and, yeah, that would be correct.

  It’s ridiculous for the RCMP to think that they are not going to have to pay a ransom or costs or whatever the hell they want to call the handing over of money. I just don’t believe that anyone, even ‘a person of great influence’ is going to get Amanda and Nigel out for $30K. I can’t believe that, and therein lies the problem: we are no longer believers.

  Every other person who has been involved in a kidnap situation has said it’s all about the money and from what we can gather with the recent releases, the final amount is always a shitload more than thirty thou.

  Lorinda is livid. She rings Ham and absolutely shreds him. Amy watches him go grey as Lorinda verbally flails the flesh from his bones. How dare he endanger Amanda’s life? Ham doesn’t like Amanda but he doesn’t wish her harm. None of us was comfortable with Amanda when she came over to Australia a couple of years ago. She was the younger, shinier version for which Nige had traded in his wife, Janie. We were all pretty fond of the original model.

  Mum’s staying with Ham at the moment. She gets on the phone and gives it right back to Lorinda. What is she doing in order to get her daughter out, as it’s obvious the governments are failing. Lorinda might be satisfied that Amanda is alive but we’ve had no proof of life for Nigel since early September … It was a nightmare, Amy tells me later, like watching dogs fight in a ring, both of them prepared to tear out the other’s throat. Mum refuses to discuss anything more with ‘that woman’.

  Lorinda tells me the RCMP suggested she apologise, which she does graciously. I think they must have been well aware of how much is at stake.

  Saturday, 28 March

  We get an email from Lorinda and Jon. Both families are working on bridge building. I have been on the phone to her, voicing our disatisfaction about the lack of progess.

  Lorinda’s reply is very sincere but naive. She and Jon don’t seem to be asking their government any questions; they just believe they are going to look after things. They certainly don’t want to engage a private K&R company.

  Ham has almost reached fever pitch about getting someone else in and Mum isn’t far behind.

  I can’t see how we can reconcile these opposing stances on either side of the world.

  Nigel

  The Couch House

  Thursday, 26–Friday, 27 March

  I hear Ahmed in the house; eventually he comes to see me. The same smug smile is spread across his face as he asks me how I am, like I’m at some fucking holiday retreat.

  ‘Ahmed, the last time I saw you, you said that it was finished. Two weeks have passed.’

  He looks at me blankly. ‘Nairobi does not want to finish. They cause many problem. Now they say if you want, you can kill them.’ Hearing the word ‘kill’ isn’t pleasant. I wonder at any negotiator throwing around that sort of language.

  ‘Mick said this?’ I ask him.

  ‘No, we don’t speak with Mick any more. It is a woman in Nairobi. She offers US$250 000 and says if we don’t accept, we should just kill you. The people in Nairobi treat us like we are stupid, like boys. They think they can wear us down,’ he says, irritation in his voice.

  ‘Ahmed, please don’t kill us,’ I say. It’s hard not to sound like I’m begging.

  Sounding annoyed, he exclaims, ‘You are Muslim; we cannot kill you.’ But I can’t trust a word he says. I’m sick of the lies and bullshit, I don’t want to hear it any more and withdraw from the conversation. He eventually gets up, leaving me to ponder our fate.

  The next morning I wake up in a foul mood. Two weeks earlier believed we were on our way home: to have it ripped from my grasp completely screws with my head. I realise I have to let it go or risk falling in a big black hole. I have absolutely no control over circumstances outside the house and there is no point in wasting energy or time trying to change them.

  Things are made a little easier over the coming days. The boys have started coming into my room to sit on the couches while they read their religious books. This gives me a chance to talk with them. I will do anything to stem the mind-numbing boredom. I show them how to do one-armed push-ups, and laugh at them as they try to do the same.

  I challenge Young Yahya to an arm wrestle. Lying there on the tiles, our hands clasped tightly together, I convincingly beat him. He laughs before meeting my eyes.

  ‘Forebeer very strong, but I have AK47.’

  APRIL 2009

  Stuck in Groundhog Day

  Nigel

  The Couch House

  Sunday, 5 April

  The morning starts like any other. I have to say that I’m pretty happy with how I’ve managed to connect with the guys over the last week. The tension seems to have dissipated.

  Abdullah brings the food that morning. He informs me that Romeo is going to the market soon to get an exercise book I’d asked for. Well, that’s another win; it’s going to be a good day, I think. ‘Inshallah,’ I say to him.

  I’m lying like a lizard in the afternoon sun, reading a book, when Abdullah a
nd Mohammad barge through my door. Just the looks on their faces tell me things have gone to shit.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘No talking,’ Abdullah barks. At the same time Mohammad wags his finger and puts it to his lips. He then snaps his fingers and motions for me to sit on my mattress. Full of fear, I sit down, grabbing my shirt and pulling it on. They each walk to a window and close the wooden shutters. The darkness is instant and my eyes struggle to adjust. Abdullah walks over to me. Recoiling, I expect to be hit.

  ‘Pencil,’ he orders.

  I fumble around on the floor to find it, then I pass it to him. He snatches it from me, and they turn and leave. I sit there in the dark. The only light comes through the door and two small vented windows near the top of the ceiling. I can barely see my hand in front of my face.

  This must be Captain Yahya flexing his muscles. I can only guess that Romeo didn’t ask his permission about the book, and the old guy’s cracked the shits. Any ground I make they quickly rescind, just wanting to show me who’s boss. It’s certainly effective; with each fall it’s harder to pull myself up. The darkness almost swallows me and with it comes fear. I thought I was slightly better positioned than Amanda, but this just shows me that we are both in deep trouble.

  The intensity of the surveillance is once again ramped up and the concessions I’d won are stripped away. It’s a sombre dinner under the ever-fading torchlight, but as I try to sleep I hear rain falling on the roof. It’s been months since the last storm. The smell and the sound take me away. I remember peeling off my clothes and running around in a downpour as a child back on the farm, and the sound of rain on the tin soothes me to sleep.