The Price of Life

by Nigel Brennan

  Nur is shocked that we have insisted that the boys come home. He travels back to Nairobi with them and behaves like an absolute prat. They’re arguing about money – what else?

  When they hit the ground in Wilson, Nur goes off in a huff. This may be a problem, as we don’t know what his role is or who takes over at the Mogadishu end.

  The boys arrive back at the Tribe and we are all pretty despondent. I feel drained and looking around everyone else is the same. We’ve all had a bit of a cry – we’ve all got puffy faces. In sheer desperation I get totally smashed. I drag Jack, Sam and JC kicking and screaming with me.

  ‘I know it feels like a setback but you did the right thing. The general told the boys that if they got out of the Dish unharmed and with the cash it would be a successful mission,’ JC says. I’d assumed things were getting unsafe the longer they were there, but it was alarming to find how close they had come to endangering themselves. As sad as we were about calling them back, we made the right choice.

  We now have a good relationship with General Hassan, and the boys think that working with the general is the way to get them out. I like the sound of this. It’s someone with a bit of responsibility on the ground with some input. I head off to bed knowing I will be nursing a hangover the next day but at least I’ll be in the mood to feel bad.

  Thursday, 19 November

  We discover that the ransom amount has gone up to US$600K. That was put on the boys when all the MPs arrived. It’s okay, because we’ve told Adan that money has been taken out of his amount as he took too long. What he doesn’t know is that it’s going to the kidnappers.

  Nur also calls us, saying he’s under a lot of pressure from the generals to get this sorted. And Adan is now out of the picture. Well, he’s still putting his two bobs’ worth in, ringing us and sending nasty text messages that we don’t answer. Nur wants to know if we’re still interested in finishing this. As if we weren’t. So he confirms with the elders that we want to continue.

  All in all it’s a very sad day. We’re worn down. ‘Miserable’ doesn’t do the job at all.

  Friday, 20 November

  We need to go home. We have to get this sorted. I have a family at home in Australia and I just can’t stay here any longer.

  James calls me – he wants to meet and discuss a few things. That gives me a nasty knot in my stomach. I feel like the ham in the sandwich and I know this is not going to be a fun conversation. But before I catch up with James, there’s a meeting with Nur to get through.

  I’m guessing Nur’s going to be pretty stroppy. Lorinda and I tell him we must leave, we can’t stay here waiting forever.

  ‘No, no, you cannot go,’ Nur says. He tells us that he has done this before, that he’s also working on the French case, which is very difficult. He tells us that they had the money taken twice before the first French man was released. Thank god we got Sam and Jack out. Looks shoot across the table everywhere. The thought of being this close and having to go home to Australia empty handed – no money and no Nigel – brings the sting of bile to my throat.

  Nur says Adan is no longer in the picture. ‘He is running scared for his own life,’ he says, grinning broadly. I find the smile ingratiating. His teeth are rotten at the back.

  So Nur wants to go with Jack to take the money in a diplomatic pouch to Mogadishu on a commercial airline, where they will meet the MPs and elders. They will then set out to the K4 Qaran, where the money will be counted and held but it will not actually go through the system. I don’t know why; I assume that way it won’t incur extra charges and fewer people will know it’s in-country.

  This idea is a little off to me, like most money dealings in Somalia. Nigel and Amanda would be brought to K4 and Jack would take them back to the airport under protection of the general’s forces. I’m thinking, this is madness. How are we going to get the diplomatic bag through the airport? Nur seems to think it will not be checked because it’s a diplomatic bag. I think there’s no way that it won’t be checked.

  I’m incredibly apprehensive about the money being confiscated as it’s leaving Kenya. You can’t move vast sums of money on your person in and out of Australia and I find it impossible to believe it’s not the same here.

  Back at the Tribe, the talk with James is every bit as awkward as I envisioned. We have pretty much run over our allocated budget for being here. He also slightly admonishes me for not heeding his advice that perhaps we have flown over to Nairobi too early in the proceedings – he’d indicated that it often takes a while to get released after the initial settlement price. The whole do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do advice from the government really shits me. I wish they would just leave me alone so we can get this done. Things have gotten pretty tense between the Australian government and AKE. James is asking me for a run-down as to what is happening.

  Hey, James, I don’t provide the intel, I’m just a negotiator.

  As it turns out, my wish is about to be granted. James and the vast majority of AFP and defence personnel are moving out. Dad also wants to go home, he’s finding it too difficult. He hates being in a foreign country and he’s missing everyone, the grandkids especially.

  Mum doesn’t want to fly home only to have to come back again when Nige is released – she decides to go stay with friends in the UK. The government has confirmed that they will not pay for a return flight for either Mum or Dad.

  The Tribe is going to cost a fortune if we stay on, so we start to make enquiries as to where else we can stay. I’d love to book into a backpackers but alas, not enough privacy for calls and negotiations. It’s a tricky one because the government wants us out as it’s so expensive, and it’s personally costing us a fortune because we’re paying to have the boys and JC here. But while we are here the Australian government can keep tabs on us.

  Saturday, 21 November

  Mum and Dad both head off. It’s pretty flat and saddening for me. The homesickness is overwhelming. While it’s been hard managing their expectations, it’s a lot harder to explain what happens if things go wrong and they’re not around to see the process.

  We meet with Nur again, and – surprise, surprise – he’s having some difficulty organising the diplomatic bag. He suggests that we might be able to get a government letter from Canada or Australia. He suggests Australia is more likely.

  I can’t believe how calm JC is about it. It doesn’t faze him that it’s all so fluid and I don’t know how he manages to sift through all the bullshit so well.

  Nur suggest that perhaps we fly the money back in with Sam and Jack. Then his phone rings and Nur has a fifteen-minute phone call in Somali, which he then translates for us. He has just spoken to General Noor who has just been summonsed to an emergency meeting at the US Embassy tomorrow, and he may be joined by General Hassan on his way back from Rome. There will now be a delay going into the Dish.

  Nur is really enjoying treating us to this bit of information, like we are his minions. He’s pretty full of himself – I just hope he can get the job done. I have to admit there is a little naysayer sitting on my shoulder suggesting that he’s not up to the task. This is heightened by the fact that he tells us that he doesn’t want to complete the exchange without General Noor or Hassan being present.

  Nur also helps us send what I think of as a suck text to Musla thanking him for his assistance, for what its worth. According to Nur, Musla has put up US$60K to pay for looking after Nigel and Amanda and it’s gone on for long enough. He wants his money back.

  Later on that evening Nur calls and says that the MPs still want to go ahead with the exchange tomorrow and he and the general want to wait until the general is in country.

  He wants us to send a letter to the MPs saying that we are having difficulty flying the money out of Kenya on an Africa express flight, which is the reason for the delay.

  We send texts to that effect to all the numbers he has given us.

  Sunday, 22 November

  The day starts with threatening texts from Adan. He a
lso rings but we don’t answer his calls. He is pissed off. He now knows that he’s been cut out of the deal and that everyone knows he had his own side deal going on.

  Nur insists that Adan has no influence on those who are holding and guarding Nigel and Amanda. He’s on the run, in hiding.

  General Noor is in Nairobi till Wednesday morning, arriving in the Dish at 9 a.m. He suggests we set up the exchange for Wednesday or Thursday. Inshallah.

  No! Not inshallah! I’ m close to rage over this bloody fix-all excuse. Nur pats my hand benevolently.

  All of us jump on him and verbally wrestle with him to make it Wednesday. Everything shuts at midday on Thursdays, and Friday is prayer day so nothing will get done.

  JC decides to butter up Nur by inviting him and General Noor to lunch on Tuesday.

  When Nur drops into the Tribe later, he tells us that the MPs keep ringing him, wanting him to hurry the exchange. Well, hello, it’s not us holding things up. Nur suggests that the money go into Qaran hawala here in Nairobi, and be receipted to General Noor or perhaps himself in Mogadishu.

  He calls later that night to say that he and General Noor would love to come to lunch on Tuesday.

  Kellie

  Newcastle

  Monday 23 November

  I’ve been on auto pilot, just getting on with daily life. I work at the shop, I pick up kids, I cook, and I pick up Geoff from the airport. He has come home and is staying with us. He looks old and ashen and he’s trying to hold back tears when he sees me in the concourse lounge at the airport. It’s heartbreaking to see a once strong, fit man look so broken. Heather has gone to stay with friends in the UK, so she can go back quickly when Nige gets out.

  Geoff mopes around our house, trying to act like he is okay. We are all acting. No one is okay, we’re all walking around in a daze. We all had our hopes pinned on Nigel being out by now.

  Nic calls to tell me they are going in again. We decide that we’re not going to tell any family members what’s going on, in case this goes pear-shaped again.

  Nic and I made the executive decision to task John Chase, and some family members held it against us when things went bad. It’s just a symptom of the pressure we’re all under, but the backlash is getting to us.

  Nicky

  Nairobi

  Monday 23-Tuesday 24 November

  It’s Jacinta’s fourteenth birthday and I’m half a world away. I’m eternally grateful that our friends and Si organise a party for her.

  My world over here is a mess of calls and meetings and plans constantly changing. Everyone we’re dealing with seems to have their own agenda while ours is quite simple. We just want to get Nigel and Amanda out. And we’re so close.

  Nur calls from Mombassa and says that the MPs want the money to go through yet another different hawala. JC suggests we stick with the cash going in country with Jack and Sam. Unbeknown to Nur, one of the reasons for this is that we’ve been trying to insure the money against theft. The guys themselves are covered by the company if they’re taken, but if the money is stolen, that’s it for us. The ridiculous thing is that insurance companies won’t recognise the hawala system, but they think it’s okay to have two guys lugging backpacks of cash through Mogadishu. There’s a considerable cost involved, needless to say.

  JC decides Nur needs to go back into the Dish with the boys on Friday to meet up with the generals flight. Nur tells JC that if the money goes through his preferred hawala today, then Nigel and Amanda can be brought to the MIA when the Daallo Airlines flight gets in in the morning.

  JC has to take the cash into Eastling. We’ve been warned not to go there – half of displaced Somalia lives there. There is huge animosity about the Somali refugees from the local population. JC says that the place is more like a war zone than a slum. There are potholes that you could lose a car in and it’s filthy.

  JC wants to get in and out quickly, so of course the money-counter breaks and the cash has to be counted by hand. All of the Dish must know that the cash is going in, but JC has to contact the MPs to let them know, officially. It’s quite a farce.

  The money is being sent for Nur to be the pick-up recipient.

  Nur scams another US$8K for ‘security’. He has us over a barrel, and so we agree that he will get it when he meets the boys in the Dish. He also hits us up for Kenyan shillings for cab fares.

  The boys and the pilot leave for Wadjir a second time. I’m just as scared for them and try, unsuccessfully, not to cry. There’s even more emotion involved this time – we’ve all felt the pain of an unsuccessful retrieval and we know that there’s the possibility of it happening again. But if they’re not successful this time, we can’t stay here and keep trying over and over. I admonish myself for the negative thinking but I can’t help it.

  Adan has gone to ground. Maybe it’s a case of ‘ding dong, the witch is dead’. I gleefully hope so. As soon as we dare to mention this, right on cue he starts texting and he’s got all the right information about the hawala. We ring Nur to try to work out how the leak can be so massive. We find out that the gang has been informed that the money is coming and that one of the members must be in contact with Adan. All of us are apprehensive about him having this knowledge. I mean, we have shafted him and he is no longer getting his money so I’m pretty sure he would be up for some nasty sabotage. He keeps ringing into the night.

  Wednesday, 25 November

  Mum is flying back from the UK tonight. It feels a bit premature but she wants to be here when Nigel gets into Kenya, and she’s can only mark time in the UK for so long. We all hit the area in front of JC’s room and wait for the calls to come in from the boys.

  The boys let us know they have met up with General Sharif. He doesn’t appear to be as powerful as Mohammed Sheikh Hassan or General Noor but they’re going to work with what they’ve got. The rest of the MPs arrive at 10 a.m. and then Nur finally gets in on the Daallo flight, which is late.

  The day drags on. We’re all tense, waiting for the reports that come back from the boys every thirty minutes. They sound increasingly frustrated. I have no idea where the money is. Is it safe? I’m starting to nag them, I know. I’m knitting to try to keep my hands occupied so I don’t tap a hole through my sternum.

  The boys ring and tell us they are getting stonewalled. Everyone over there stops to pray and eat and bugger-all else gets done. At the end of the day, Nur finally arrives alone, looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. There is great farce about how the gang and the hawala are staggering the release of funds over a couple of days to ensure that everyone who is owed money gets their share.

  This is infuriating – I’m enraged. ‘It’s got nothing to do with us who pays whom after the deal is done!’ I’m screaming this at the boys. I also want to know where the fuck the money is. ‘Whoa, calm down,’ Sam says. ‘I’ve got the receipt so no one else can collect it.’ He must be well over hearing my whinging, bitching, nagging voice down a tinny telephone line – I’m well over it myself. Nothing more happens so the boys pack up and head back to Bancroft camp at the airport.

  We’ve all moved downstairs to where the Canadian consular staff are waiting. All of us feel flat. We’ve been invited to the Australian Embassy for dinner. I want to discuss what’s going on with the plane bill as the pilot normally gets paid before he goes. Lorinda doesn’t want to go to dinner; she wants nothing to do with them. JC has to debrief with the boys, so I suck it up and head off to the embassy.

  I plan on having a few as I want to be as hung-over as possible so it can’t hurt any worse when Mum gets in. Within half an hour of meet-and-greet – I’ve not even finished my first drink – JC calls.

  ‘We got them.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’ve got them. We have Nigel and Amanda.’

  ‘Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod.’ I stumble, arms held out in front of me. I can’t breathe, I’m sucking in great mouthfuls of air. I’m crying hard, so hard I can’t speak.

  ‘They’ve got them,’
I squeak, pushing the words out. Everyone folds around me, hugging me.

  JC’s still on the line.

  ‘Okay, there are a few hurdles. The boys aren’t with them. Lorinda has spoken to Amanda. Get back here and you can call Nigel.’

  ‘What what do you mean, the boys aren’t with them? Where are they’?

  ‘Just get back here and we can go through it all.’

  I can’t get in the car fast enough. A woman from the embassy passes me great handfuls of hot barbecued food in alfoil to take with me.

  JC goes over what has happened. They are holed up for the night at the Sahafi Hotel. I am swinging between exultation that they are out and gut-twisting fear that some other group could storm the hotel and take them, especially now that the news has hit the wire. My phone has gone nuts with people ringing to see if it’s true – it’s on morning news back home in Oz.

  I finally get to speak to Nige at the hotel and tell him to keep quiet, and then I realise I’ve scared him by telling him he’s not really safe. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Then I try to calm him down.

  I hope he gets some sleep tonight but I bet he won’t. Jack and Sam are hopeful of getting them to the airport at first light but the Somalis are not known for their early starts.

  We crack open ridiculously expensive champagne to celebrate. The first bottle is on JC. I quash the fear that we are pre-empting the celebrations. We scoff down the alfoiled food.

  Nigel

  The Rat Hole

  Wednesday, 25 November

  Wednesday starts like any normal day in captivity. After a restless night’s sleep, I spend the day like most of these days, perusing my drawings, memorising my diary and reading passages of the Qur’an and the books. The heat, exhaustion and darkness leave me little option other than to sleep as part of my daily routine. The only thing I take any joy from is the two cups of tea I receive every day.