The Price of Life

by Nigel Brennan

  In our morning CMT I explain all this, only to be told that Lorinda already has someone taking care of them. I’m sure my gasp is audible; so are Nic’s and Jon Lindhout’s. There is something going on over there in Canada that I am totally unaware of. For the last week in our CMT meetings I have been talking about doing all of this for both sides, not just us, but now Lorinda tells me she already has someone handling the PR. What the hell is going on?

  Nic and I Skype after our CMT and ask ‘what the?’; she is as confused as I am. Jon Lindhout then Skypes and explains to us that he had no idea that Lorinda had asked someone else to do their PR; like us, he thought we were doing this together. He is very concerned that Lorinda is making decisions without consulting him. After Jon hangs up, Nic and I discuss this – it’s what we suspected but were a little afraid to say. It feels like Canada is working only for Amanda, whereas our side are rock solid on working as a team.

  What a clever family I have – they all decide that KGA is the way to go. I phone Brian immediately and tell him we would love them to look after us. I arrange another meeting with them to plan how the next few months might play out. We need to discuss the media, Nigel’s return and his future. This looks like the start of a beautiful relationship with a fantastic group of people.

  Even though Dick Smith has agreed to meet the shortfall, I totally agree with his suggestion that we continue to fundraise. I have shifted in my hesitation about asking people for money, I no longer have any issue with it. I need money to get Nigel out, and people can simply say no. I figure there is no harm in asking.

  Wednesday 13-Thursday, 14 October

  Now that the family has access to enough money, we face the problem of how to get it into Somalia. This is the million-dollar question. There are a number of options but we have to decide which is (a) the safest, and (b) the one least likely to land me in jail.

  The CMT has already discussed the hawala banking system as our preferred method of transfer, but now we have to look at it in much more detail. JC has mentioned that this method is widely used throughout African countries and has been used successfully in the past to move ransom money.

  I look up ‘Dahabshiil’ on the internet and discover there are some local branches around Sydney.

  International money transfer of large amounts is a major bell ringer to all governments, including our own, especially since September 11. No bank will enter into discussions about the money transfers, as we need the government’s permission to shift that amount of cash. We’ve been told not to ask the minister for permission because the act we are about to commit is illegal and carries a hefty jail sentence.

  I become a signatory on Heather and Geoff’s account as they will both be in Nairobi when the money needs to be moved, so I will be the only member of the CMT left to do it.

  The next part is to Google Earth the Dahabshiil branches to find out which one has a back lane where we can park while we move the cash. This might sound crazy but there is no way I am carrying a rucksack of hundreds of thousands of dollars through the streets of any suburb, let alone one I know nothing about.

  One branch looks promising. It is in a building that looks like a mall; it has staff parking out the back and you can enter the building from the front or the rear. I do a drive-by to check out the location and the back entrance, and it’s clear this branch ticks all the boxes. I phone JC to let him know, and now all I need to do is persuade the manager to get on board.

  I’ve done all of this work – days’ worth of organising and planning – and the blokes in the London AKE office have organised a driver and security detail (‘knuckle draggers’ as we affectionately call them) to look after me while I do the transfer, but if the Dahabshiil manager says no, it’ll be back to square one, and I’m not sure where that is any more.

  JC gives me strict instructions that under no circumstances am I to tell the Dahabshiil manager what we’re doing. My cover story is that we’re purchasing some goods in Somalia and that my client has requested payment by Dahabshiil. The silver-tongued devil is going to have to give me a little direction on this; it’s a story I know no one is going to believe. I mean, who buys goods in Somalia worth US$800 000 just because?

  I phone the Manager to make an appointment. I tell him I need a large sum of money moved to Somalia and ask if he is able to help me. He tells me that he is, so we arrange to meet the next day at 11 a.m.

  On Thursday I drive out west for the second time. Every single woman on the street is wearing a hijab; all the men are sitting outside the coffee shops smoking and playing some sort of game – I’m not sure if it’s cards. When I step out of the car, I am the only Caucasian person in the main street. All eyes fall on me.

  I am wearing long pants and a long-sleeved top, and it is hot. I leave the comfort of the car’s air-conditioning and head into stifling heat; there’s a strong smell in the air of cooking spices and body odour.

  I walk into the Dahabshiil office; it’s a tiny room with a huge map of Somalia on the wall, and there’s a high counter with bars on it.

  The room is long and narrow, and behind the counter are two gentlemen. One is the Manager.

  We shake hands and he escorts me out of the building and onto the street. We walk a little way, making small talk until we reach a coffee shop. He leads me inside, all the way to the very back corner where no one can hear or see us. He nods to the girl on the front counter and she takes our coffee order.

  The Manager sits opposite me. He is incredibly handsome with the most amazing skin. It is such a beautiful colour, smooth and blemish free. His eyes are like pieces of black coal, you can’t tell where the pupil and the iris meet, they appear one. The whites of his eyes are a rich cream colour with a smattering of bloodshot. Those amazing eyes are boring into me. He sits upright with his arms folded; he isn’t tall and slender as I imagined him to be, nor is he bulky. He is average, yet he cuts a very imposing figure sitting opposite me, waiting for my explanation as to why I want to move nearly US$800 000 through his agency. It turns out he thought I’d said ‘one hundred thousand dollars’ when I asked about moving ‘hundreds of thousands of dollars’.

  His English is broken but I can comprehend everything he says. He asks me to explain very clearly what I want so he can understand. I start with the spiel JC has given me, going on about buying something in Somalia and needing to use Dahabshiil. He asks me what I am purchasing that costs that much money.

  I keep telling him we want something very special and that only he can help me. He starts shaking his head and tells me that I need to be honest with him otherwise our meeting will be cut short – he thinks I am wasting his time.

  Oh crap, he isn’t going to allow this to happen; I have to tell him the truth. I don’t know this man but all my hopes are pinned on him helping our family get Nige back.

  Tears start stinging my eyes. I don’t want to cry but every time I tell someone our story for the first time, I feel the tears well up.

  I come clean and tell him the truth: that Nigel Brennan, my brother-in-law, was kidnapped in Somalia and I am paying the ransom money to get him out.

  He sits there in shock, and then his eyes start to water. He apologises for the actions of his countrymen, and tells me how Australia has been so good to him and his family. He asks me if Nige is the one taken with the Canadian girl.

  I confirm this and tell him a little more than I probably should, especially how much I need his help to move the money. He has only just met me and I could land him in a lot of trouble.

  The Manager finally nods and says he will help me.

  I have to stop myself from jumping over the table to hug him. At last we’re really making some progress – we have the money and now we have a way of getting the money to Somalia.

  We sit there for quite a while, talking about what Nige and Amanda were doing in Somalia. He is really saddened that this is happening to us.

  The rules of Dahabshiil are very clear: no money must be moved for illegal a
ctivities, and guess what? Kidnap and ransom payments are illegal. The Manager is bound by the rules of his bank unless he gets permission from the head of his organisation.

  No more than AUS$10 000 can be moved at any one time out of the country without it being flagged. Once it is flagged, it must be explained what the money is for, and if we want to move money to a country like Somalia, it is stated by law that we must have the approval of the foreign affairs minister.

  I convince the Manager that the government isn’t going to stop him; his business isn’t going to be investigated and he isn’t going to be prosecuted. He has to trust me that this will all be okay, without any piece of legal documentation to confirm this.

  We say our goodbyes and I tell him I will be in touch with further details once the deal is ready to go ahead, which will be in a few days.

  Adrenaline is surging through my body; I feel light and floaty. I phone JC immediately with the news that the Dahabshiil is a goer. He is ecstatic – it means that we can let the hostage takers know that we can move the money.

  Oh, we are getting so close, I can feel it, but I need to keep a level head as this has happened too many times before. You get excited then smack, disappointment. I just have to stay positive.

  Nicky

  Moore Park

  Monday, 18 October

  Alto and I talk to Adan, and it seems the heat is on. He has dropped the add-on amount by US$100K, making the current demand US$748K. Adan is definitely under pressure to settle. I tell him we are still selling things and I can report back on Wednesday. Meanwhile JC lets us know how Sam is panning out. He has found a charter plane and pilot. Who, as it turns out, is an old SAS guy and they kind of know each other. He’s got heaps of back-up plans for random landing spots. I’m not feeling entirely comforted by that option as Australia’s last kidnap victim was taken captive on an airfield back in ’96.

  There are a couple of Dahabshiil problems. JC has been talking to someone pretty high up at the UK Dahabshiil. They have been, as is the case with most hawala operators, under serious pressure since the Bush administration, and, as with almost everything Islamic, under constant scrutiny. They have to report all transactions, especially those over $10K. Their only duty is to report but authorities can take action if they so wish.

  This is not such a big deal for us, as we are okay with the movement of the money being traceable. Dahabshiil can’t verify who the money goes to; it’s released to whoever the agreed recipient is. They don’t know what that cash is going to be used for in the future. If something goes wrong, the Dahabshiil office gets frozen. Dahabshiil UK said if it were them doing the transaction they would like written authorisation saying that they will not be prosecuted for the transaction.

  A precedent has been set: in the past the US has closed down a hawala transaction when money was moved in a piracy case. After the deal was done the government froze the company’s assets and the company worldwide went down. I can understand them being so leery about wanting to assist us if that’s a possible outcome.

  If worst comes to worst, Sam the madman has said he will do the bagful-of-money run. This is almost prophetic.

  Wednesday, 21 October

  When I next call Adan, he sounds like he has been asleep or more probably chewing khat. He sounds a bit upset when I give him the new offer of US$460K. He says he won’t accept it and that he told us we had a deal if we could pay an extra US$200K to the bad guys. Both Lorinda and I state to him we don’t have that much; we can try to raise it but it will take more time.

  The weird thing is, he doesn’t sound mad with us, just upset. It’s dawning on him he’s not going to get the extra money for himself. Lorinda says to him, ‘Well, Adan, what happens if the gang puts Amanda on the phone and wants to know the full amount? I’m not going to lie to her.’ He gets really worked up and the line goes dead. Did he just hang up on us?

  We leave it for a couple of days till we call him again but the conversation is pretty much the same. Just some vague threats that he has been approached by others in Nairobi and Zimbabwe and he may start discussions with them, or he may resign altogether. Then where would we be without him?

  We hold off for another couple of days to see what pressure the gang will put on him.

  The Australian government wants to have a chat to JC before they release Nigel’s passport. The Canadian consular staff will do the same thing a couple of days later. Ever the smoothie, JC makes all the right noises. He thanks James and expresses how grateful he is on the families’ behalf for the government’s assistance, for facilitating aircraft, medical assistance, customs and immigration. Like I said, he’s smooth.

  The outcome is that Nige’s documentation is being released.

  James rings me shortly after and offers more assistance. After Nigel and Amanda are released from hospital they can be set up in a wing at the Tribe Hotel. If Lorinda and Jon have no accommodation provided for them, as long as they tick it off with the Australian government, they would accommodate them as well. There is no longer a set deadline for when Nige will be brought home; it will depend on his health.

  It is pretty piss-poor form that Jon and Lorinda still haven’t heard from DFAIT. So I make an official request of James, asking him to contact his Canadian counterpart to establish what consular support they would be providing to Amanda and her family. Humphrey would be proud of me.

  Two days later Lorinda and Jon inform us that the Canadian government will match the Australian support. They specify they want their own Canadian psychologist and actually trump the Australians by snagging meals for the family.

  Friday, 30 October

  We have an agreed offer! US$680K. It’s finally happened. We’ve come to expect the inevitable and encounter another hiccup. Sure enough, we don’t have all the funds together. We ring Dick and ask him to cover us till we can pay him back, when Bob and Alison’s and the rest of our fundraising money comes in. No questions; it’s in the bank by midday the next day.

  JC wants this done. His ninety days are up, he jokes. We are going to ring Adan every day till we have the transaction and exchange sorted and we get them out.

  Nigel

  The Bush House

  Late October

  Several days after Amanda’s call I receive a message from her. She starts off by asking for my forgiveness and explaining that she was forced to say what she did. It’s hard for me to swallow, but I realise she is only human and is living in constant fear. I can’t continue to hold this against her. Forgiveness is far easier to grant than to grasp onto the hatred and bitterness that I felt from days earlier. She goes on to explain that Romeo has caused her a lot of pain. I’m not really sure what she means by this.

  As always, I make myself read the message twice before erasing the evidence, taking great care in case someone walks. Then begins the whole process of sending my reply, which takes days to organise.

  I spend the next few days putting my message together for Amanda, starting by telling her that I forgive her. I truly mean it. Ahmed is again with us. It’s not just his cologne that gives him away these days but his unforgettable ring tone. I’m feeling marginally better after the last few days, and he makes me wait until early afternoon before gracing me with his presence. As it’s the last day of the month I’m desperate for him to give me some good news; with Christmas just around the corner my thoughts are heavily slanted towards my family.

  He gets directly down to business, singling Lorinda out as the problem as to why negotiations continue to stall. ‘I think she is a Jew, she is trying to cheat us out of money,’ he explains sternly.

  I try to reason with him. ‘Ahmed, she is Christian. I know because Amina tells me this, just like Amina is Christian before she becomes Muslim.’

  He expresses his disapproval saying, ‘No, she is Jew. She behaves like a Jew, she tries to keep her money, she offers one amount but now she tries to reduce, this is like Jew.’ I can’t help think that all religions are the same, blaming others fo
r their own shortcomings.

  I’m conscious of the fact that Adan could have cleared up this rigmarole months ago but has chosen to allow the group to believe otherwise. Instead of Adan taking the blame, it’s squarely directed at Lorinda, and by proxy Amanda has borne the brunt of their frustration. It’s useless even trying to argue the point. Ahmed is so pigheaded he leaves me no option but to shrug my shoulders and exclaim, ‘I don’t know; I’ve never met her.’

  I know the only reason he is with us is to give Captain Yahya a break, allowing him to go back to see his family; it’s become routine every four or five weeks. Ahmed continues to ramble on, airing his grievances that they are being treated like idiots, and I can’t help but think that the truth hurts.

  NOVEMBER 2009

  Sometimes you just have to take a chance

  Nigel

  The Bush House

  Early November

  Ahmed is back in the mix, the only real benefit of his return being the dramatic improvement in the quality of the food. The bland repetitiveness of bread and meat is quickly replaced with what seems like a smorgasbord of smell, taste, colour and texture. I can’t believe my eyes when a plate of salad is slid across the floor to me. It seems like months since I last saw a green vegetable – my body is craving vitamins and minerals, and the remnants of fever from days earlier still plagues me. I can’t think about how much more my body can take if this drags on into another year. I’m sure that my liver and kidney function will start to shut down.

  I ask Romeo for my Qur’an, desperate after a week to hear from Amanda. My stomach knots up as I make out what she is telling me: ‘They are planning to sell us to Al-Shabaab.’