Open Writing

Chapter 20
Captain Bandaranayake (continued)

Captain Bandaranayake obligingly provided us with radio hand
sets so that we could communicate with the ship from our base on
shore. Joseph, Khadra and three others agreed to stay on board the
Kofi Koranteng while Nimrod and I returned to camp with the rest of
the boys and our ‘guests.’

Those we selected from the Sri Lankan crew seemed content
enough with their new surroundings. Conditions on board their ship
were uncomfortable so their temporary stay on dry land was not
considered too onerous. On the contrary. They ate well and were
given the freedom of our camp. They spent most of their time
swimming (Sri Lankans do not seem well coordinated in this pursuit),
playing beach cricket with makeshift equipment, or lazing under
the shade of our palm grove. Nimrod considered it important to
make them understand the reason behind our commandeering of
their ship. Very early one morning we took them to see the leaking
oil drums which we had stored in an area we judged to be a reasonably
safe distance from camp. Bandaranayake was visibly shocked.

‘Are you telling me that all this stuff was washed ashore here?’

‘Of course,’ Nimrod advised. ‘And it keeps coming. You can
imagine our fear. All we want is to get rid of the containers so that
we can resume some kind of normal life. We’ve had to stop eating
fish, an otherwise essential part of our diet. We’ve forbidden our
kids to play in this area anymore. You know what they are like; always
exploring. Even places they are not supposed to be.’

‘You are lucky to have children,’ the captain replied, his expression
turning to sadness.

‘So you don’t have kids of your own?’ I asked, putting my foot
right in it.

‘Not now. They all died.’

‘What happened to them?’ piped up Sanya, in the way that youngsters
sometimes do, curiosity and thirst for information overcoming
any common sense or sensitivity.’

The captain seemed almost relieved to talk about it.

‘Five years ago, almost to the day, they perished in the tsunami
which struck Sri Lanka. My wife too. We had a home on the eastern
side of the island in Batticaloa. That is gone also. My family were all
swept away. Their bodies were never found.’

‘What’s a tsun ..... thingy?’ my daughter rushed on, without embarrassment.

‘It is a giant tidal wave which is usually caused by a seaquake under
the ocean floor. The wave can travel hundreds, even thousands
of miles, all the time building up momentum. Some say that a tsunami
can move at a hundred miles per hour, maybe more, and might
stand ten or twelve metres tall by the time it reaches land. The same
tsunami which was so catastrophic in Sri Lanka eventually hit Somalia
too, though I understand the damage to your coastal communities
was not nearly as devastating as in my home country,’ our guest explained.

‘You might not even have known it was a tsunami.’

‘What’s “devastating”?’ asked Sanya.

‘I think the captain has heard plenty of questions for one day,
Sanya,’ I intervened. ‘I’m sorry, captain.’

‘Ah. It’s okay. How were you to know. I have to look to the future
now. I’d like to remarry in fact. But spending my life at sea hardly
helps.’

‘Would you like to live with us in Kaambooni. We’ve got lots of
girls in Somalia.’

‘That’s enough, Sanya. Go and get ready for school.’

She gave me one of those looks and strutted off. She was growing
up fast. Where had all the time gone? As we all walked back to
camp Captain Bandaranayake said something which surprised us.

‘I hope you get your million euros.’

‘Do you think we will?’ I asked, uncertainly.

‘Why not. You won’t believe how much money has been handed
over to Somali pirates over the last few years. I confess I like your
idea of suggesting it is only a loan. Though maybe you made a mistake
in asking the EU to take the lead. Don’t you know how useless
they are? They couldn’t organize a piss up in a brewery, if you’ll excuse
my use of pub English, Miss Amina. They came to Sri Lanka in
2004, full of promises. I expect we’re still waiting for them to deliver!’

For a moment we each reflected on the state of the world, our
dependence on bloated bureaucracies to deal with its problems, and
knowledge that these never worked to anyone’s satisfaction.

‘Can I make a suggestion?’ the captain resumed.

‘Sure,’ said Nimrod.

‘It’s been a couple of days since you pirated my ship. You should
issue another press release reassuring the authorities that my crew
are safe. Come on. I’ll help you write it.’

That afternoon, we radioed the new message to Joseph. Once
transcribed, the crew of Kofi Koranteng sent it out.