My last week in Colombo

The last six months have flown past. It seems like only yesterday I was experiencing my first Tuk tuk ride and gazing wide eyed at all the new and interesting things you see every time you land on a new shore. Now I don’t think twice as I roam around the city by foot or by tuk’ it has become home to me and I don’t feel like a tourist any more. Unfortunately though, having arrived at that comfortable point – it is time to pack up and return to my real home where winter still lives.

‘Zarges’ (My alloy trunk full of unaccompanied luggage) was packed last week and delivered to our logistics department where it waits for DHL to come and whisk it off back to NZ. It was a bit like saying goodbye to an old friend. When I arrived Zarges had beaten me here by a few days, but had taken over six weeks to fight its way through the red tape of landing unaccompanied before we were reunited. This time I have my fingers crossed that it will be waiting on my Dunedin doorstep by the time I arrive home. Yeah right!!!

I shouted cake this morning for my birthday. I only needed one this time, whereas three months ago two didn’t quite make it around everyone in the building – clearly we are ‘downsizing’.

My last week is all about doing final reports, closing my bank account, paying the bills, handing things over, farewell dinners, last minute souvenir shopping, goodbyes, stocking up with spices, and ‘unbolting the training wheels’ from my friend and colleague Harin who will take over as National Security Officer for IFRC.

Some of the things I will miss about Sri Lanka: The food – particularly the prawns, tuk tuks – with which I have a love hate relationship, taxi fares, the friends I have accumulated along the way, no swearing – I’ve hardly heard an angry word since I arrived, the positive working environment, friendly courteous people, eclectic architecture, and the food!

Some of the things I will not miss: Traffic, indiscriminate and incessant tooting of horns, busses, pollution, armed military presence, high security zones, politicians – I won’t go there!, bureaucracy, dog (and other) crap on pavements, motorcyclists on pavements, and breaking out in a sweat every time you blink!

Looking forward to: Reuniting with Jen, family, friends and pets, feeling the lawn between my toes – well maybe when the frosts stop!, traffic rules, preparing my garden for spring planting, dreaming up new mad schemes over a Whisky or two with my good mate Milton, fishing from our launch ‘Seagull’, settling down for a while before the next adventure, and the NZ launch of iPhone 4.

Not looking forward to: The struggle to lose the pounds I have gathered by enjoying too many prawns, the less positive aspects of my working environment (OK - work sucks!!), dog crap on pavements, taxi fares, and surly shop staff.

So now all that remains is to eat what little is left in the cupboards, and figure out how on earth I am going to cram everything into my suitcase!

Finally I must share with you a quote I came across the other day that I can identify with:

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside - Chardonnay in one hand, chocolate in the other - thoroughly used up, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming "WOO HOO, What a Ride"

~ author unknown ~

Not that I am particularly fond of either Chardonnay or chocolate – but you get the idea…..

Greybeard's usual day at the office

It is 6am and through the haze of sleep I vaguely hear a bell ringing in the distance calling local Muslims to prayer. Ding… ding then a pause of a few seconds, ding…ding, another pause then ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding. This is my daily signal to leap off the bed (it is too hot to sleep under even a sheet) and wander through for my morning shower. On the way I flick on the jug because I cannot function without my morning cup of tea, and soak some muesli (provided of course that my fridge hasn’t frozen my milk, and the mites haven’t breached the security of my muesli packet) I live on the eighth floor of a 6 year old apartment block that already looks 20 years old, but is reasonably comfortable with tile floor and the obligatory dark stained hardwood furniture common in these parts. 

Shower, dress, breakfast and a check of the cellphone for SMS messages that arrive frequently from various media and other sources to make sure that the world hasn’t ended overnight, then off to the lift and out into the heat, noise and traffic of the morning for my half hour stroll to work. “Good morning Sir” from the building caretaker and security guards at the door. Already at 7.30am it is in the mid to high 20s and humid, and traffic is building up along with the smog. The road along which I walk to work is quite busy and there is a constant tooting of horns (the Sri Lankan equivalent of indicators and road rules). Crossing the intersections can be challenging, but at this time just as school is starting most larger intersections have a policeman directing traffic as the traffic lights just can’t cope – and in any case they are often ignored. My walk takes often takes me past several lady street sweepers who, armed with their ‘witches brooms’ are busy sweeping the footpath clear of leaves, rubbish, and just like NZ - dog poo!

Every couple of minutes a tuk tuk buzzes past and I am either tooted at or “taxi?” is yelled at me by the driver – I have given up replying. If I wanted a taxi surely I would be standing on the side of the road waving at one! A little further on and I pass by the World’s first woman Prime Minister’s house, the late Mrs Bandaranaike, then I come to ‘The Lily Petal’, a little local café that sells me for the equivalent of 70c NZ two bread rolls filled with a sort of savoury omelette, tomato, lettuce and mayonnaise – my lunch. It has become so routine that the shop assistant sees me coming and has my rolls bagged up ready as I walk in the door without a word having been exchanged. I don’t have the heart to change my order now!

I am usually among the first to arrive at the office just before 8am, but thankfully my Sri Lankan colleague Harin, has often beaten me by an hour and has turned the a/c on. I spend the next half an hour or so trying to stop sweating before changing into a fresh shirt. Another cup of tea follows along with a chat to Harin to catch up on anything that has happened overnight. Harin is the National Security Officer and will take over my role when I return to the NZ winter at the end of July. We often spend time analysing current events – what does this decision by Government mean? What happens if this person becomes Minister of Housing? etc. The rest of the morning is spent reading and responding to the 30 or so emails that have arrived since the afternoon before, and reading media and other reports online. Sometimes there are meetings to attend. There are lots of meetings in Red Cross! Often a brief update of the security situation is all that is required. Probably half of these meetings are with people outside Red Cross – UN, other NGO’s, Embassy staff, and a range of other people who all become part of our local security network as we become part of theirs.

We (Harin or I) deliver security briefings to visiting delegates warning them about what to look out for and how to avoid becoming a victim while they are here. Sometimes there are incidents to inquire into or analyse. All security incidents (from traffic accidents, to breaches of regulations) have to be reported to the security unit, investigated, analysed, and recommendations made, and records kept. I also have a variety of reports to write and keep updated so I spend a lot of time in front of a computer.

Before I know it, two milky sweet cups of tea have been delivered (10am and 3pm) and it is time to gather my bits and pieces and wander off home reflecting on the day, dodging puddles, tuk tuks and busses, and chatting to the caretaker at the apartment before checking the mail and taking the lift back up to the eighth floor. The apartment by this time has reached the high 30’s so I collapse under a fan and rehydrate with a cold can as I stop sweating again.

A quick bite to eat – often simple fare as it is cheaper and easier to go to a hotel for a proper meal every few days than cook, check the emails, write a bit, maybe watch Discovery Channel for a bit and I am likely to be on my bed under the fan by 9pm – this being the coolest place in the apartment. Perhaps I will have veges tomorrow, maybe my milk won’t be frozen by the morning……Thus ends another day.

Greybeard's week in Bangkok

Saturday the 15th May 2010 was another hot and sticky day in Colombo. Jen and I had decided to walk to the shopping centre to pick up a few things in the morning and were totally unprepared for the phone call that came from Kuala Lumpur and turned the next week or so upside down for both of us.

Michael, the IFRCs Asia Pacific Zone Security Coordinator, had received a request for assistance from the Acting Head of Regional Delegation in Bangkok who was reporting a crisis that was starting to get out of control and become a threat to Federation staff there.

‘Red shirt’ protestors calling for the ousting of Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva had occupied and barricaded themselves into a block of central Bangkok and were engaged in a standoff with the authorities who up to recent days had taken a fairly lenient approach and simply closed off the block. Unfortunately this was a block that accommodated a lot of embassies which had to close, and had the skytrain and underground running through the middle of it which were also stopped. The protest had started to escalate and already some deaths had occurred. The whole shambles was starting to attract international media attention and some disorder was starting to spill out beyond the protest site with tyres and vehicles being set on fire and gunfire exchanges between the authority’s cordons and the protest site.

Michael had just returned from a short mission to Afghanistan and was preparing for another to Myanmar so was not keen to change flights and visas as it is extraordinarily difficult to obtain the required permission in the first place. “Would I be available to go in his stead?” he asked. Of course the obvious and correct answer was – “Yes” so he signed off to go and clear it with both of our bosses with a promise to let me know one way or the other by Sunday afternoon.

Sunday afternoon came and everyone who needed to had agreed that I should go as soon as possible to Bangkok for a week. Unfortunately ‘as soon as possible’ doesn’t take into account the need for a certain amount of bureaucratic process that allows our organisation to provide jobs for a goodly number of people! Gradually and with much articulated encouragement the ‘machine’ swung into action and I was able to get onto a flight which arrived in Bangkok on Tuesday morning. I had by this time been in regular contact with the ‘Critical Incident Management Team’ (CIMT) in Bangkok and had begun to study the background to the whole affair and get an appreciation of where we were at.

 

As I was driven in from the airport to the Federation office near Sukhumvit, I could see smoke rising from what was obviously the protest site. I was struck with the impression that the area was miniscule in relation to the rest of Bangkok and that as soon as you went a couple of hundred metres away from the checkpoints it was pretty much business as usual. “No, I don’t want a massage thank you.” “No, I don’t want to buy a Rolex thank you.”

 

I met with the team at the office and it quickly became apparent that although they were tired from being in a state of heightened awareness for some time, and were a little thin on the ground (HoRD and the Security Focal Point were both out of the country on leave) things had been managed very well, and the incident was in capable hands. While the team was grateful to see me arrive (I think) I had no wish to take over anything and we quickly formed a good working relationship where I was there for support, reassurance, encouragement, and to share the load. By then the 109 staff and dependants had been accounted for and if necessary relocated out of danger zones. Phase Orange had been declared and all but emergency travel banned, and the office, which was adjacent to and overlooking the protest area was closed. I was equipped with a laptop, cellphone, local cellphone, satellite phone, maps, lists and sufficient cheese crackers and beer to withstand a siege. This meant that I could work from anywhere, and was able to function from my hotel room nearby if necessary. The only flaw became evident the next day when the power and internet went off as someone set fire to a substation. The only tolerable place in the nearly 40 degree heat became the hotels rooftop pool so with its sky view at least the sat’ phone was working.

We settled into a routine for the week where we would attend a morning meeting with ICRC to share information from overnight and set the agenda for the day, then we would walk quietly back to the Federation office via the back streets and deal with any matters arising, check in with various people, update everyone and then finish the day with another ICRC meeting. Our morning walks between offices along Sukhumvit were a great gauge of the general feeling on the street (“No thank you, I don’t want a massage”) and enabled us to achieve a better balanced view of what was going on.

Wednesday morning was when Government forces moved in effectively and quickly with troops and armoured vehicles to disperse the Red Shirts. This was a day that saw widespread outbreaks of anger, violence, and arson in various parts of Bangkok as well as a curfew being imposed for the next week. This was also the day that (coinciding with our usual walk to the office) a clash took place at Asok on Sukhumvit near where the office and my hotel were. Thankfully we were some way off so that when we heard shots in the distance we were able to detour via side streets (“No, I really don’t want a massage thank you.”) and spend the rest of the day in another part of town.

Bizarre as it may seem, with all this going on, tourists were still wandering up and down Sukhumvit, and although the streets were relatively quiet I was able to have a good look around, sample some fantastic Thai street food, and get into tourist mode myself for a bit.

Now, several weeks on with things back to normal, at least outwardly, this crisis is reported to have cost 85 dead and 1402 injured.

Despite the circumstances of my visit, I found Bangkok and its people wonderfully vibrant and its food has to be sampled to be believed. This is a place high on my list to explore further in quieter times.

Greybeard goes to Fort

A colleague, in fact my boss in NZ was delighted that I was going to be based in Colombo for 6 months. Not, as it turns out because he wanted rid of me for a while (or so I choose to believe), but rather because a relative was posted here with the Navy during World War 2 and there was research to be done here to fill in some blanks in a book he is writing.

 

I had heard that there was a Maritime Museum in Colombo, but was having no joy finding it by asking any of my local contacts. Taking my usual fallback position in these things I made Google my friend and quickly learnt that the Colombo Maritime Museum did in fact exist but due to some graphical electronic interfacial error was not where Google Maps said it was. In reality it was housed in the only remaining example of Dutch architecture in Colombo in the form of the original Dutch prison here right in the middle of the Sri Lankan Navy’s High Security Zone near the waterfront in Fort (a suburb of Colombo and also originally a Dutch fort)

During my first week here I had an encounter with an officious armed matelot near here as I strolled blissfully ignorant along the waterfront with my camera over my shoulder. Seems this area has been ‘off limits’ now for years – accounting for why no one knew about the museum.

Naturally I was dubious about another visit having heeded my earlier warning and stayed away ever since but nevertheless I engaged a local tuk tuk driver and set off armed with rough directions to look for an old Dutch Prison along the waterfront. Making eloquent use of his several words of English he explained to me that we would go along the waterfront road and try our luck to see how far we got and that if we were stopped he would interpret for me at a cost yet to be confirmed.

Away we went and upon reaching the first checkpoint it quickly became apparent that the security forces were becoming more user friendly and less aggressive. After some smiling, pointing and nodding and much parley in Sinhalese we were able to proceed, but only on foot. The next emplacement was equipped with a very large machine gun which pointed at us through the concertina wire as we walked toward it along the road. I was feeling a little nervous as I was again carrying a camera. Fortunately the gunner was as happy as his colleagues and cheerfully waved us on to the next point a few metres further on and staffed this time by police. This cheerful crew pointed to a long low building in the distance which, as we got closer proved to be the elusive museum and indeed was housed in an old prison like building.

Arriving at a wide open vehicle sized entrance maybe 10 metres from the museum door we were prevented from entering by a policeman who pointed at the ‘Exit’ sign on his gate and an ‘Entry’ sign back the way we had come. Retracing our steps for 75 metres we entered via the entry gate and returned along the inside of the fence to the point we were a couple of minutes earlier and on into the museum.

The museum is quite small, entry is free, and there are few exhibits, but it is interesting and has been well put together. Unfortunately, even after explaining what I wanted I was flatly refused permission to take photographs. I was keen to record one exhibit, and felt like a spy as I hung around until no one was looking before quickly taking out my phone camera and firing off a quick snap before sneaking guiltily to the exit – where I was able to buy for just 300 Rupees (around $3) a comprehensive colour guide to the museum containing detailed photographs of every exhibit I had just seen, several postcards, and a book on the history of the port!

I wandered sheepishly back with the tuk tuk driver / guide wondering how much his services were going to cost, but again was pleasantly surprised when after dropping me across town he gladly accepted my starting offer of 500 rupees ($5) for his mornings work!