The Price of Life

by Nigel Brennan

  Moore Park Beach 2008 – the Christmas from hell. Back row, left to right: Simon, Jacinta, Izzy Nicky, Kellie, Stirling, Matt, Amy, Hamilton. Front row, left to right: Gigi, Atticus, Monty, Mac, Oscar. Missing: Callaghan, he was playing on the computer. Oh, and of course Nigel.

  Enjoying dinner at Gas town, Vancouver. All of us except Aunty Alison would make up the Crisis Management Team, working with John Chase. Clockwise from left: Kellie, Lorinda, Jon, Amanda’s best friend, Kelly, Aunty Alison and Nicky.

  Kellie and Nicky in Vancouver.

  Geoff and Heather in Nairobi. Visiting tourist attractions was the only way to make the time pass while waiting for Nige and Amanda to be released.

  The money shot. On seeing this photo Kel exclaimed, ‘Is that it?’ This money was counted by hand three times, just to make sure it was all there.

  Amanda, Nigel and the extraction team, getting the hell out of Mogadishu.

  Freedom! The smile says it all. Nigel on the plane to Nairobi.

  Fifteen months of hair growth, gone. Nigel in hospital in Nairobi.

  Joking around with a member of the extraction team at the Aga Khan University Hospital a day after being released.

  Nigel and Amanda back in Nairobi with Nicky, John Chase, Lorinda and Kelly.

  Nigel and Amanda enjoying time together out of captivity at the Canadian High Commissioner’s residence in Nairobi.

  Reunited. Matt and Nigel embrace at Sydney Airport.

  Kellie, Dick Smith, Nicky and Nigel. This was the day Nigel first met Dick to thank him for his help.

  Nigel and James Hardcastle, Nigel’s best mate, catching up post Somalia and emptying a few cold beers at Moore Park.

  ABOVE: Christmas, 2009. NIGEL : ‘Out of a horrific experience have come many good things. I am more compassionate towards others, and infinitely more patient. I have a greater understanding of myself and the world around me. I have been given a second chance at life and I don’t intend to waste it.’

  EPILOGUE

  The Money Launderer

  Newcastle

  2011

  People ask me two things now that this ‘Nigel episode’ is over. The first and most obvious is how much it cost, and the second is how I am now.

  The answer I give to the first question is, in monetary terms it cost approximately AUS$1.3 million to get Nige and Amanda out. Its impossible to put a cost on the emotional toll on our families.

  The answer to the second is that I am so pleased it’s over: it was one of the most stressful, demanding and anxiety-inducing experiences of my life. It was also the most gratifying thing I have ever done.

  When Nigel returned, I gave him a card. In it, I told him that this experience had changed my life as much as it had changed his.

  I have always admired those who take on foster kids, or volunteer to care for or spend time with people less fortunate than themselves. But I always felt as if I was much too selfish to do anything like that – spending time away from my family and my business was something I could just never do. So I gave Nigel a card to say thank you, not just an everyday sort of thank you but a big one: thank you for changing my life.

  What I learned about myself is that I am capable of putting every single thing in my life to one side to focus on something, or someone, other than myself. I put my life on hold – including my husband, my children, my job, my friends – for my brother-in-law.

  This experience has made me a better wife, mother, daughter, daughter-in-law and sister. It has also made me a better friend. I learned that whatever the world dishes out to you, a little bit of positive thought and energy goes a hell of a long way. I have learned to enjoy the ‘now,’ to smell the coffee in the mornings, to relish lazy mornings in bed with my children.

  I have learned to appreciate the little things around me. It doesn’t matter if your house is the biggest, or your car is the most expensive, or your clothes aren’t this season’s – none of this matters. What matters are the people in your life. The biggest lesson of all is that it is greater to give than to receive, and to give someone something and expect nothing in return, just to give, for its own sake, is the greatest thing of all.

  I am a much better person this side of Nigel’s kidnapping; I am proud of the person I have become and I am so thankful for that, and I am so happy and grateful for my lot in life.

  As for the rest of the tight five (Matt, the kids and I), we are rock solid. Stirling started school this year and Matt could not resist the call of the land any longer. He is back working on a farm, where he is as happy as a pig in mud. After his shoulder injury, he is back getting his hands dirty, working with cattle and tractors again. Gigi and Cal started a new school last year. They have really settled in and are doing brilliantly. They have made some wonderful friends and the trauma of Nigel’s kidnapping seems somewhere off in the distance. The business is booming and going from strength to strength. This year we are incorporating an event-planning, decorating and management arm of the business.

  We hope to set up a foundation that helps others who find themselves in situations like ours. It’s something all of us feel passionately about. We want to inspire others about the power of the human spirit and the goodness that lives within us all.

  The hostage

  Moore Park

  2011

  Words cannot describe what it felt like to land in Australia – euphoric just doesn’t cut it. My overwhelming happiness at being back with my family, though, was tinged with sadness. I could now see firsthand the pain that my selfishness and ambition had caused them. Their struggle for my freedom had taken a great toll, physically and mentally. Mum and Dad had aged, marriages had been strained, and family relationships were pushed to the edge.

  In terms of the financial pressure, I will always be indebted to my family, friends and the other generous donors – even in the future after I’ve paid back their money. Something that plays on my conscience is the knowledge that the ransom which paid for my life may well be used in the killing of innocent people. It is something I will struggle with for the rest of my days.

  Having been sensory deprived for such a long period, I took some time to adjust to life back home. My paranoia and feelings of over-vigilance took a while to get in check. I didn’t want people to handle me with kid gloves – being treated normally, including the gentle ribbing I’d come to expect from my family, helped with the transition. I put this resilience down to my rural upbringing, my years at boarding school, and being the youngest of four siblings: I learned how to deal with piss-taking from a very early age. I also think that this is part of the Australian psyche; we see through adversity with our black humour.

  Like with any defining life experience, your perspective changes. Every single one of us will face some sort of trauma or adversity in our lives; it’s how we use that experience which is the making of us. Some people implode while others blossom. In my case, it has given me great strength and also revealed a few of my weaknesses. It has made me grow up and given me an infinitely more positive outlook. I hope in the future I will be able to put others’ needs in front of my own, as so many people did for me.

  Amanda and I keep in contact. Although it was a shared experience, we had very different journeys: she suffered far greater than I did because of the simple fact of her gender. I am so thankful that she was there with me; without her support, friendship and love I wouldn’t have been able to get through the ordeal and be the person I am today. There have been times of strain between us as we have both had to come to terms with the decisions our families made. We have gone in different directions since our release, but she will always be an important part of my life, and I cherish her friendship.

  I have begun working as a consultant, training journalists in managing hostile environments, hoping that my experience will save them from a similar fate to mine. And I hope to do some work in crisis management with K&R companies too. I’ve started public speaking, imparting my story and explaining the importance of family,
friends and community – it’s a simple message but without these, you really have nothing. I’m also planning to photograph Somali refugees living in Australia with the idea of touring an exhibition around the country, to expose their stories of pain and suffering – after all, that was my original intention when I travelled to Somalia. The three of us would like to set up a foundation that assists other Australians who find themselves in dire circumstances both overseas and here at home – we’d like others to benefit from what we learned the hard way.

  I lost fifteen months of my life, and I’m unwilling to lose any more by dwelling on the past. Out of a horrific experience have come many good things: I am more compassionate towards others, infinitely more patient, and I have a greater understanding of the world around me. I have been given a second chance at life and I don’t intend to waste it.

  The negotiator

  Moore Park

  2011

  Once Nige was safely ensconced in the Aga Khan, after he’d been fed, checked over, and his Nige-beard-ladin had been shaved off, he asked if he could watch a DVD of The Castle. I knew then he was going to be okay.

  I also knew I was going to miss JC and the boys, but that the job was done and it was time to disband our little group. Mum was there, and it was her role to be with Nige. I was feeling incredibly guilty that I’d missed Jacinta’s birthday during the first unsuccessful rescue attempt. It was time to go home.

  For a little while after I got back, I felt aimless, and for a little while longer pretty pissed off about my situation. That situation being, living in a tiny two-bedroom box away from the beach with not enough cash flow to maintain farm equipment, which was hampering the growth of crops. I hit the streets to get a part-time job while we were putting this book together. Meanwhile, Si got back into the horti/agriculture side of things full time.

  Many people seem surprised at the ‘sacrifices’ we made for our sibling. This was, and still would be, a no-brainer; I would do it for any of my brothers. I’m well aware how fortunate I am to have as brothers some of the finest men around. I would have chosen them as friends had we not been born into the same family. I hope this alleviates any guilt that Nige may still feel.

  I hope my children will share equally close bonds as adults. Once, I complained to someone how unfair it was that Jacinta, who was sleeping metres from the computer, had to hear so many calls to Adan. The reply was, ‘Yes, but look at what else she got from it: she saw your strength. She saw her mum take on the bad guys and win. Not many kids get to see the true mettle of their parent like that. That kid will be able to do anything because she’s seen how it’s done.’ My friend was right, I think: that resolve does strengthen people. Even though my kids bicker, like all siblings do, I like to think this experience will have taught them the value of our family and indeed all those dear to us. And that it is worth fighting for.

  A number of years ago, while we were living in middle-class suburbia, one of my kids asked whether we were rich. I explained to them that while they didn’t get their every demand and whim met, we lived a comfortable life. We had jobs, food, shelter, cars, a trampoline. We were well-off by a lot of standards. I went on to tell them that Australia on the whole was very wealthy when compared to many developing countries, where as well as not having homes or food, let alone toys, kids didn’t have access to doctors, and didn’t go to school, especially if they were girls. In fact, I said, some were so poor their families had to sell them. After taking an enormous financial step backwards and struggling to keep afloat, if I use this as a yard stick, I realise one or two things. We have Nige back home and alive, and for lots of people the outcome isn’t so fortunate. So, if wealth is relative, then we are indeed rich. You simply cannot put a price on the life of a loved one.

  It took months for DFAT and the AFP to debrief us, and to this day, I have no idea what the outcomes of that debriefing were or if any policies have been changed. We have never been told. I’m not surprised or even that disappointed by this. It is what it is. Our government had parameters they couldn’t and wouldn’t operate outside. I just wish they had told us about them sooner. I sincerely hope that all changes before another Australian is kidnapped, which is sadly only a matter of time. To that end I am very keen, with Nige and Kell, to set up a foundation to assist Australians (and their families) who find themselves in similar situations to ours.

  I’ve gone back to university. It’s very disturbing having my kids show me how to transpose and calculate equations when it all looks like a foreign language to me. Ultimately, I’d like to study something in the field of social inequality. I’ve always wanted to do some sort of aid work, but Si and I decided to postpone this while the kids were little (after all, there is nowhere better to grow up than Australia). Having a solid background in horticulture might put me in good stead for some work with an overseas NGO sometime in the future. However, I think I might draw the line at Somalia.

  I am an average Joe, who through sheer bloody-mindedness made something amazing happen, and I’d love to use my experience to help others. The whole kidnap experience made me realise that we’re all capable of more than we think. But the next important thing I learned is that ultimately, love is mightier than any bureaucracy.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are so many people we must acknowledge, it’s hard to know where to begin.

  We are immensely grateful to Bob Brown, and Dick and Pip Smith, whose benevolence still overwhelms us to this day. The kindness, generosity and compassion shown by these three throughout the ordeal were beyond words. We cannot thank them enough.

  Some wonderful people made Nigel’s rescue possible, but none more than the team at AKE, the Crisis Management Team, Alto and the flyboy. Again, words cannot express our gratitude.

  Thanks to all in the Brennan family, Aunty Alison, Naomi and Deb, Virginia and Jeff, Helen and Bert and cousins and the Jackel clan. Their support and love sustained us throughout this gargantuan task.

  To all those who donated money, to those who gave support, guidance and legal advice, and to everyone who called just to tell us we were in their thoughts, we are eternally grateful to each and every one of you.

  We thank all those who stealthily organised the fundraisers along with Ham and Amy, Kate, Bin and Tom, and to all those who donated at the Croppa fundraiser. At the Brisbane fundraiser Carl, Hellfire and Jane were fantastic, but there were so many more. Thank you to the Withers family for organising their own fundraiser in Sydney. Thanks to all the Moore Park crew who organised the Bundy fundraiser (and sacrificed their livers there), along with all those who bought Nigel’s photo prints. Special thanks go to Jacinta and her friends, who waitressed for the grand fee of a T-shirt each.

  We’d like to thank Bryce Courtenay for his guidance and encouragement. He said it would be ‘the hardest fucking thing’ we would do in our lives and he was absolutely on the money.

  Thanks to Robert Sessions and the team at Penguin books for their enthusiasm for this story and their faith in our ability to tell it. We’re especially grateful to our publisher Andrea McNamara and editor Bridget Maidment, for their patience. It has been an honour and a pleasure to work with you.

  Nicky

  Thanks to my immediate family – Simon and our children, Jacinta, Monty and Atticus – who survived the fifteen months of my self-exile more than admirably. In return for my absence, they provided me with love and support.

  To the outer circle of my family – my parents and my other brothers, Matthew and Hamilton – and my sisters-in-law, who I am only too delighted to claim as blood. And so it ripples out to family members further afield.

  Every girl needs a best friend living around the corner. Ange loves our children as if they were her own, and she has helped us in every possible way. Ange, Dennis, Ken and Alice, along with the rest of the Rocky mob, have seen all my flaws and love me anyway.

  John and Erin, times of crisis create the strongest of ties; your friendship means the world to me. Will and Jack,
you may not like it but you will always be my first port of call in an emergency, and for the odd piss-take.

  Thanks to all my school friends who rang or turned up just as I was at my lowest ebb. Thanks to Kev and Ross and many of the AFP negotiators, some who have made it into the book and some who haven’t. While there are people like you in the force, I still have faith. Also thanks to our wide array of friends at Moore Park, who all watched over us and kept tabs on our wellbeing.

  And finally to Nige, who dragged me down a road I would never have otherwise taken. It’s good to have you home.

  Kellie

  The full list of people I could thank would take up pages, but I would like to make special mention of my family: my mum, dad, brother and sister-in-law, and, of course, my husband. The emotional support you gave me was incredible and helped me get through every day of this ordeal.

  Nigel

  The words ‘thank you’ cannot adequately convey my gratitude to those involved in my safe return home.

  I know there was a cast of thousands who worked tirelessly behind the scenes for the fifteen months I was away. Many more have supported my recovery and the writing of this book since I’ve been home.

  Thank you to my beautiful extended family and friends. Words will never express the love and admiration I have for what each of you has done. Your stubbornness and determination are the reasons I am here today. Thank you for grounding and supporting me since my return.

  Thank you to Jo Dougherty and Maria Burnett for the endless hours spent debriefing and transcribing my story, for reading parts of the manuscript, and for their ongoing support and friendship.