Fishing out my torch, I survey my new cell. It’s surprisingly big, with two large windows, and relatively clean. I set up my bed and mozzie net before collapsing, exhausted, after the marathon five-hour trip. I fall asleep, slightly reassured to be back in Mogadishu. Things may actually be moving in the right direction.
The Flash House
Friday, 13 November
I get the shock of my life the next morning when I go to the bathroom. I’ve only had a small shard of mirror to look at myself since we were taken, and I’m astonished at the face now staring back at me in the mirror.
I almost don’t recognise the pale, gaunt, hollow-eyed and bearded features. It’s a face that shows the strain of the last fifteen months.
It makes me realise just how much pain and anguish we have endured at the hands of these people. It’s not just my face that tells a thousand words, my body also bears the scars: my ribs are clearly visible and there’s not an ounce of fat on me after the starvation diet they’ve had us on.
Nicky
Nairobi
Friday, 13 November
This is it. The boys are flying out to pick them up. The air is alive with tension and tightly-held hope. It really is happening. We have to hurry Nur up to get to Wilson Airport so they can fly and stay overnight at Wadjir, a frontier town on the Kenyan border. For the hundredth time, we insist that we must get a POL from both Amanda and Nigel before there can be a trade.
I am really distressed when Jack and Sam leave. I’m very scared for them. Even though Sam has pulled me aside to tell me that this is his job and he is very good at it, and yes, it involves high risk, but essentially he gets off on that, I’d still feel completely responsible if something went wrong in the Dish. I know they have families and now having lived and worked with them, I’m attached to them, so I’m crying pretty hard when they leave. I feel emotionally drained, all the spiking of adrenaline is taking its toll. I Skype everyone at home to fill them in and would like to get rolling drunk but I’ll have to leave that till later. I need my wits about me.
Kellie
Newcastle
Saturday, 14 November
This is supposed to be the first exchange day. I’m catering for a wedding at a location without good phone reception, so I take two phones to check which one has better coverage.
The exchange is to take place at 8 p.m. Daylight Saving Time or 10 a.m. local Mog time. It is 7.30 p.m. here, just before dinner service. I check my phone and notice I have a message.
Why didn’t it go off? I received calls earlier that day so I can’t understand why it hasn’t rung this time. It’s the Manager, asking me to call him as soon as possible because there is a problem.
My heart jumps straight into my throat. A problem. Shit, what sort of problem, what’s going on now? I can hear the message but my phone will not connect, then I notice the wind has changed direction. I have no choice but to run to the top of the hill where I know I’ll get reception, but if I do that, dinner will be late and the bride will be waiting … Thankfully, my wonderful staff are used to these emergency phone calls by now and they do what needs to be done.
I phone the Manager; he’s very stressed and angry. He keeps saying, ‘You told me K4. Mr Jack now wants money to the airport, Abdul is very angry; we had a deal for K4, they have changed the deal, you are my client, you have lied to me.’
Oh my god, have I really stuffed this up? Or has the Manager misunderstood again? Is he on the take with Abdul? All these things are racing through my head as he yells at me over the phone, on the hill, under the stars on a beautiful balmy November evening. A bride’s perfect day is slowly becoming my worst nightmare.
I try not to panic. I call JC and explain the Manager’s carry-on and ask what he wants me to do. The call to Nairobi keeps breaking up, so I keep telling JC about the Manager calling me a liar and yelling at me about the pick-up change.
It seems JC smoothes things over with the Manager and gets everything back on track. In the end, the money is picked up in Nairobi by Jack and transferred to another money exchange and then carried into Mogodishu in backpacks. The money is so heavy it breaks one of the backpack straps.
Nigel
The Flash House
Saturday, 14 November
In the evening I’m caught by surprise. Abdullah walks in and tells me, ‘Quickly, we move in five minutes.’ We’ve never be moved so soon after arriving at a new house. Maybe the group has splintered and the boys and Captain Yahya have other plans for us. I can’t hear Ahmed, which confirms these suspicions. It’s not long before I’m pushed into the backseat of the car where Amanda is already waiting.
There seems to be great urgency to get moving. We roar out of the gates and start weaving through the streets. The boys all seem incredibly jumpy. Abdullah continually looks over his shoulder, making sure we are not being followed. We drive for no more than five minutes before pulling up outside a new compound. Captain Yahya races to open the gates, then they slam behind us.
Amanda and I are dragged from the car and marched into a ramshackle house. We’re marched into our respective rooms. We share an adjoining wall but it now feels as though the Atlantic Ocean separates us. I can’t even get a glimpse of her when I go to the toilet and I can’t hear anything coming from her room.
The place looks more like a rat hole than a house; it’s by far the nastiest little hovel they’ve concealed us in. White ant trails run halfway up the walls, there are cockroach carcasses everywhere and the floor is covered in dirt and crap. The heat from the roof makes the room stifling; it feels like I’m in a pressure cooker. I set up my bed behind the back of the door, trying to give myself privacy from the boys’ prying eyes, but they come in regularly during the night, shining their torches in my face.
The Rat Hole
Monday, 16 November
In the morning I get a better perspective of the shithole they have me in. The bathroom is just a hole in the floor to defecate in and worse still, the door doesn’t close properly. As I leave the bathroom, from the corner of my eye, I can see down the small hallway into Amanda’s room. It’s practically pitch-black and I know she will be doing it tough. The boys laze around in the verandah area, like a bunch of sloths, scratching themselves.
Late in the morning Captain Yahya comes in, handing me the phone. He’s joined by Abdullah, who plonks himself down right next to me, getting a good position to listen in on the conversation I’m about to have. Pressing the receiver to my ear I say, ‘Hello, Nigel speaking’, and I hear a voice say, ‘Hi, it’s Sam. Mate, just want you to know we’re here to get you.’
‘Okay’, I reply, dumbfounded, with no idea who I’m talking to, but it’s such a relief to hear his words. Finally some proof that things are nearing the end. He says, ‘We are trying to do the deal, but we need you and Amanda to talk with the people in charge there and push them to finish this.’ That’s impossible; they’re all grunts and the people that are running the show are elsewhere, is what I’m thinking but I say, ‘Okay I will try.’
Sam asks, ‘Are you okay? Is Amanda with you?’
‘Yeah, I’m okay. Amanda’s here but she is being held in another room.’ He asks to speak to her. I tell Abdullah this, and he grabs the phone from my hand before they both leave the room. Moments later I can vaguely hear Amanda becoming excited as she talks with Sam. I won’t allow myself the room for belief that we are getting out of here soon – I learned my lesson ten days earlier after talking to Nicky.
Fifteen minutes later Abdullah comes in with Joseph, wanting to know exactly what was said. They high-five each other and exclaim, ‘Alhamdulillah, it is finished’, grins spread across their faces. It’s a phrase I’m getting sick of hearing – every time they bandy it around things seem to turn to shit. I just want to be left alone. Later that afternoon, the sounds of war ripple through the air as motars fly then explode somewhere in the distance. It would only take one stray shell on the flimsy metal roof to cause disaster.
&nbs
p; For the next two days it’s as though time stands still, the heat and boredom all-consuming. What the fuck is going on and why is it taking so long runs on a loop through my head.
Nicky
Nairobi
Sunday, 15 November
We start the day by sending out feelers to everyone: Musla, Nur and Adan. It would appear that the Somali people are not early risers unless it’s to pray or eat, so Sam and Jack have a late start. They have no idea where Nur stayed or who he has been in contact with overnight. They suspect he’s had a big night on the khat. He meets them at the general’s house and they all head back to MIA. After considerable faffing around, the money is counted in front of everyone. The boys load it up and move it to a different hawala operator – Qaran – at the port office. Adan’s share has been left with the general to go through the Bakaal hawala so he can get his cut without the rest of the gang knowing.
According to the boys, the run through town was pretty crazy. At this point their presence in the Dish is quite obvious and they are starting to look and feel like easy targets for an ambush. Adan is notified of the deal and, in theory, Nige and Amanda should be getting dropped off at Dabka junction, which the boys have checked out the day before.
Then Adan and Nur have a massive argument where Adan demands the cash to be moved to Qaran hawala at Bakaara markets. Even though I suspect the boys secretly consider this option, the CMT vehemently opposes it. As far as I’m concerned, the chances of things turning to shit are far too high. We have too much to lose. If the cash gets taken, that’s it. And that’s before we even consider what could happen to the boys.
What Adan wants is to have the money and the hostages at the same time. Ain’t going to happen, buddy. The tension at the Tribe is at fever pitch. James keeps asking for updates but we’ve got no idea what is going on, as the Somali contingent is so wayward. Dick’s ringing me, Kel’s ringing me, Si’s ringing me. I don’t want to talk to anyone. It’s too hard to explain as everything is changing course every thirty minutes. I just want to vomit – my gut is in spasms with nerves.
By the afternoon, K4 Qaran wants to pull out. It appears that Abdul is stirring the pot – he isn’t happy with us using that operator, as it means he won’t get the commission. This just confirms for us how dodgy he is. The boys head back to the general’s residence overnight.
We all Skype Alto. And so begins a mammoth phone fest for Alto, talking to Musla, Adan and Nur. Musla wants this pushed along as quickly as possible. He’s had a busy day today, fighting – he makes that statement sound so banal, domestic even. He is meant to have heard from Adan and Nur during the day and is surprised that more hasn’t happened. He tells Alto that the gang members are young and ignorant and think if they put Nige and Amanda on the phone a cruise missile will strike them. Watched a few too many Rambo films, this lot. He will devote himself to it tomorrow. He says Adan is scared he will be killed when he gets the money. No great loss, I’m thinking. Given half a chance I’d like to wring his scrawny neck. You can just tell he’s a little weed.
Adan’s got the strops up big time when Alto speaks to him. He can’t get on with Nur. We guess he’s not happy that someone else is negotiating and he thinks he’s going to lose his sweetener. He also can’t let the gang know he has that extra deal going on so he’s leaving his belly pretty exposed. He wants to know who the white man hawala recipient is. We – the families – are to blame and we must fix this; we must get the manager of Qaran hawala to call him. There will be no POL till this happens. As if that’s going to happen, given it’s 7 p.m. on Sunday night.
Alto calls Nur, who is chewing khat. Great, a stoned negotiator. Pretty sure I know where the money for that came from. Everything is ‘no problem’. I’m starting to dislike this phrase almost as much as inshallah. He has had confirmation from the Qaran hawala that the money is there but denied this to Adan. Nur thinks as little of Adan as Adan thinks of him: ‘He’s an idiot and makes no sense.’ Hear, hear.
Musla then calls us, asking to speak to Alto. Whoa, boy, does he have some translating to do tonight! It’s coming in so thick and fast we’re having to make decisions on the overview that Alto gives us rather than waiting for the transcripts. Once again, Alto proves to be an absolute godsend because he is able to pick up the nuances of this cast of strange characters.
Musla tells Alto that he has spoken to both Nur and Adan. Adan wants a letter of guarantee to be faxed to Qaran hawala from Jack that he will not be prosecuted after the release of Nige and Amanda. This guy is an idiot. We agree and send off something to that effect in English, like they can read it!
Monday, 16 November
The boys go to pick up the money from the port Qaran hawala and back to the general’s to pick up Adan’s share, which has been kept separately. They then move to the SNSA main building, where they sit and wait. While all this dithering goes on, the general has confirmed that on delivery of Nigel and Amanda, the money will be escorted to the Bakaal hawala of the gang’s choice. This all has to be done by 2 p.m. as the general is then flying out of the country.
Fuck-all happens.
Nur can’t get onto Adan. I have a very bad feeling. Every second hawala in Mogadishu has counted the money. When they are reporting back to JC, all Sam can hear is me yelling to them is ‘Where is the money?’ and not in a Jerry Maguire way. I’m yelling, ‘Get on the fucking plane and fly out of there!’ I think Lorinda is shocked that I can suggest such a thing, but from our end it feels to me like we are courting disaster.
The pilot and co. call their bluff and load the money onto the plane. Sam immediately gets a POL. He gets to speak to both Amanda and Nigel; they sound pretty good, they’re in the same house but not together. We’re all having lunch together when Sam calls us and he speaks to me, Mum and Lorinda to pass on the messages from Nige and Amanda. We’re all crying at the table.
During the day we have been constantly texting Musla and Adan to move them along. Adan starts sending threatening messages and texts. We make good our previous threat that we’ll take US$90 000 of Adan’s share off the table. We pass this information on to both Musla and Nur.
The boys get moved to another spot in MIA as they (not to mention the cash) have been in one place for too long. They stay with the Force Commander and Major Saad.
Kellie
Newcastle
Sunday, 15 November
I cannot imagine what it’s like in Nairobi, sitting and waiting.
For them it’s day twelve of a week-long trip and day three of the exchange. Not receiving the up-to-date information from my CMT group is the hardest part. I have stopped my life for this and now I’ve got nothing.
Things are moving too fast over there for updates all the time – strategies and plans change direction faster than a bullet train.
Nothing can prepare me for the ‘No, not today’ reply that comes through via text message.
It’s too painful to talk to loved ones on the other side. I feel so deflated, I can’t cope with everyday chores. Tears just roll down my face, not sobbing or crying, but the tears just come and they don’t stop. They start stinging my face and then I feel them dripping off my chin and onto my clothes. My face becomes itchy and my nose is running, but I just can’t stop them from coming, and all I want to do is sleep but I can’t, I just keep waiting. Wating for a message of some sort that will let us know if it’s over or not.
Nicky
Nairobi
Tuesday 17 November
Adan has gone quiet; we don’t hear anything from him all day. We get a text from Musla, saying that Adan has threatened the Bakaal hawala and they will not deal with him.
There is a lot of messing around with the boys trying to get the deputy PM who is in Djibouti to guarantee the money is in the system. In the meantime, Adan has been into the Bakaal hawala three times, threatening them. He wants the cash released to him before the hostages.
We insist on the boys flying home without Amanda and Nigel.
; This creates a last-minute intervention by another MP. He claims there are elders trying to assist and offers to go and get them. They come back to MIA with more MP elders and one other guy, who the boys are almost certain is a member of the gang. He’s young and looks surly and doesn’t speak any English. He doesn’t appear to have the social skills or standing of others around him, so the ‘elder’ label doesn’t fit. This lot don’t want the money at MIA, they want it moved back to K4. Everything about this screams ambush – the boys have been getting intel that they’re going to get jumped. It’s now too late so they can’t fly out to Wadjir; they return to the Bancroft location to stay overnight.
Musla send us a text that evening saying we must get rid of Adan. If only.
Wednesday, 18 November
D-day for us. We all hope desperately that someone can pull a rabbit out of a hat, but deep down know that it will be a miracle.
For the first time ever, Jack and Sam actually have an early start. The deputy commander of the SNSA has Nur and the elder MPs at MIA but not the younger Somali who the boys think is a gang member. The MPs want to move the money to K4 Qaran, not get a receipt for it, and let the gang know they can release the hostages. This is getting more ridiculous by the minute so the decision is made to leave.
The Price of Life Page 37