The Easy Day Was Yesterday (36 page)

The local policeman proved useful after all. He was able to speak to the MEF guys and arrange for a sit-down meeting at the Mendana Hotel that afternoon. We were due to go back to Australia the next day and needed to resolve this nonsense so we could come back in a few weeks and get back to the mine.

The hotel staff were aware of the situation and provided all the support they could. A table was prepared next to the bar in a quiet part of the restaurant. Four federal agents were discreetly positioned throughout the bar just in case the Mine Manager decided to use some of that great diplomacy again. The MEF guys arrived and got straight to the point. They wanted compensation for their efforts in protecting the mine. It was pointed out to them that, in fact, they had run away and this was why the mine had been overrun by the IFM. They would hear none of it and, despite the policeman trying to mediate, things got angry. Eventually, the MEF guys left with the comment, ‘if the money isn’t paid before you leave tomorrow, we will kill you all if you come back.’

That night, the hotel manager gave me a handful of keys for the empty rooms telling me he didn’t want to know where we were staying. I selected three rooms that offered good observation of one another and also easy escape routes. We entered these rooms after last light and didn’t use any lights. The next day we left Honiara without any further problems. A month later, we returned to another set of problems, although nothing like that near-death experience in front of the office.

The hospital was only a five-minute drive from the prison and I attracted a lot of stares. I suppose people didn’t normally see a white man in shackles in the back of an open police car. At the hospital we parked out the front and then walked to find my new cage. The cops had no idea where I was supposed to be, so they just led me all around the joint. I could see they were getting some enjoyment out of the attention and, by treating me badly, their status grew. It was humiliating being treated this way. I couldn’t walk as fast as the cops because I had lost the stamina, and I was supposed to be dying, so they pulled me along as if they were dragging a stubborn dog. Actually, I felt like a slave being dragged to a new plantation. My arms were now extended forward and I periodically stumbled as they yanked me along and forced me to catch up. They led me into one ward that had four beds on either side of the wall with women and kids occupying five of the beds. The cops pointed to a mattress suggesting this was where I’d be staying.

‘No,’ I said. I’d now had enough of these arrogant pricks. The mattress had old blood, vomit and shit stains on it and there was no way I was lying on that thing. Give me back my mattress at the cage. In fact, the original hessian on the wet cement would have been better than that filthy bloody thing.

‘What’s the problem, mister?’ the senior copper asked.

‘The problem is that I am not staying here.’

The cop gave me a ‘we’ll see about that look’ and I thought I was about to get a beating from these four pricks. Fuck it, I thought, do your best, you pricks, I’ve had enough of all this shit. I took a step back and got ready to defend myself and try to get a couple in with the shackles on when a doctor walked in and asked what the police were doing there. The cops said something in Hindi and the doctor yelled at them, also in Hindi, and I was dragged on another journey around the hospital. They seemed pretty pissed off with the crap they had got from the doctor and seemed intent on taking it out on my wrists by trying to pull the shackles straight through them.

Eventually we arrived at an office building with three guards standing out the front. They had been waiting for us and I was hauled into an office. Inside the office the police left me to the guards who told me to sit on the bed. There were two beds in the room; a bench ran along the length of one wall with a sink at one end and a fridge in the corner. So already it seemed I’d gone from the shithouse to the penthouse. I now had a hospital bed, actually two, which were off the ground, with a mattress that was about 50 millimetres thick — good times.

People paraded past the door to stare at me without shame. It was bizarre that people had no problem coming right up to my face to look at me as if I was an animal in a zoo. I just ignored it now, or sometimes I might say, ‘Have you lost something, mate?’

Sallie and Martin arrived to find me sitting on the bed still shackled. Sallie asked the guards to remove the manacles. I rubbed my wrists to get the blood flowing back into the pressured areas. It was bloody strange having Sallie and Martin just wandering around without being searched or having guards supervise everything we did. Sallie and Martin made a list of all the supplies that would make life more comfortable and then told me that Bala’s cook would be over later with some food. The guards didn’t really know what to make of Sallie and she also drew a lot of attention from the locals. The local women stared at her as the men did me. Sallie and Martin left with their list in hand and began their long journey back to Nepal. As they got into the vehicle, a crowd gathered to see what was going on, so Martin made an impromptu speech which no-one understood and then told everyone to give themselves a clap and they followed his lead with hearty clapping. It was funny — then they were gone.

I was supposed to be on death’s door, but I couldn’t live in this old hospital room with potentially unknown bugs and diseases attached to everything, so I started to clean. Everything in the room had a solid layer of dust settled on it that quickly became mud. Everything I thought I’d touch I cleaned with bleach. It took me about an hour and, at the end of that, the place was a little better.

I made my bed using the mattresses from both beds and my mat and sheet from the gaol. A fan was rigged up on the ceiling but had little impact on the horrendous humidity. I sat on my bed and felt grateful that people had helped me to get this room, but I was still a prisoner. I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. I decided to spend the night reading and doing Sudoku. At night I had a bucket bath and found I missed the old man’s help and company. I had been with him constantly for 17 days and he had helped me with everything I did. I wished he was here.

Back in my room I discovered they’d rigged the fan with the light bulb. If I turned off the light the fan turned off. So, just like the prison, I had to remove the light bulb and, just like prison, the guards freaked out. There was an urgent knock on the door. I now had the ability to lock the door from the inside which was novel for a prisoner. I unlocked the door and had to show the guards what I’d done. They accepted that I could sleep with the light off. It was a hot night and I missed my little fan, but the thicker mattress meant I slept better than I had for the previous 16 nights.

Wednesday 11 June

I was awake at about 4.00 am and read a little while waiting for the guards to kick on my door at 5.00 am. I had unbolted my side of the door, but the guards had locked the other side as well. But 5.00 am came and went, so I just lay there reading until about 7.00 am when the guards finally opened the door.

I walked to the end of the hallway near the doorway to the bathroom and had a bucket bath with freezing cold water, but it was good to wash the layer of sweat off. It was strange washing without the help of the old man and without the 300-strong audience watching.

Bala sent his cook with some breakfast. He brought some porridge, which wasn’t like our porridge and made with oats; it seemed to be made with another type of grain. It was bloody beautiful. He delivered it in a hot plastic container and motioned for me to scrape it onto my plate so he could take the container back to Bala.

Sallie and Martin arrived at about 10.00 am. I’d spent the previous hour looking out my window for their black Pajero. It was hilarious when they arrived. They had so much gear for my room that they looked like they’d been to Biratnagar’s version of Ikea. They had two thick foam mattresses, sheets that were really just lengths of white material purchased from a fabric shop, four pillows, towels and food — it was great and really made this ridiculous existence comfortable. Sallie had also bought me a replacement cell phone in Biratnagar. It was a classic phone and almost an antique, but I loved it. All the phone did was make phone calls and send text messages. There was no camera or internet connection and I really liked that. Plus, it was small which made it easy to hide. I was finally able to contact my daughter Sayge, and it was a dream to hear her voice. I’d sent her repeated text messages while in the gaol, but she had never replied. Obviously I thought I’d been forgotten, but it turned out that her mother had stopped paying her ever-increasing phone bills — not a bad idea, but crap timing.

Sallie stayed and helped me put the cell together while Martin went off to wheel and deal. There was still no word on where this supposed letter from the Minister was. Sallie called the High Commission staff in New Delhi and got a little hysterical in her attempt to get them to do something. She told them I wasn’t safe anywhere and I was getting sicker. I asked her to go a little easier as I didn’t want to be moved back to the gaol. But we had to try everything and anyone we knew. Sallie had left no stone unturned in order to get me released. I found out that the SAS Regiment in Perth was aware of my predicament and Sallie had already spoken to several colleagues who might have had contacts in India. She also had a dozen Australian journalists, entertainers and actors calling their contacts in the government every day. But for me, sitting in a cell at Araria hospital, it seemed as though nothing was happening. I needed pressure to come from all directions. I called a mate who had been my Squadron Commanding Officer a few years back and now held a highly regarded position with the government. He was in a meeting, but I told his secretary that I was in trouble and needed to talk to him as soon as possible. She put me through to the secretary at the meeting location, and my mate walked out of his meeting to talk to me. I thanked him then quickly explained my situation. He took notes, understood and said he’d start making calls the moment he’d finished the meeting.

Martin left at 4.00 pm and there was still no word about the Minister’s letter of release. By this time, Martin was talking to the High Commission guys two or three times a day.

Another good thing happened — Sallie was able to stay with me in this room. Bala had given approval for this to happen. What a great guy. But I was worried. This wasn’t quite a gaol, but it was still pretty bad. The other problem was that I couldn’t protect her in this place. Frankly, I couldn’t really protect myself, let alone her. I introduced Sallie to the bucket bath system. The water was too cold for her. She cried with despair. I felt so bad for her. What woman would do what she had done? What woman would go through what I had put her through? She was amazing.

In the cell we absolutely cooked. It was so damned hot and humid. I set up a mosquito net for Sallie and another for me. This certainly kept the mosquitoes out, but also kept the heat in. Damn, it was hot.

At 9.00 pm the guards frantically knocked and wanted to know about the light. Again, I sorted that out and we tried for sleep in this sauna. At midnight there was a loud thumping on the door followed by yelling for me to open up. When Sallie was ready, I opened the door to be confronted by six or seven men. They were yelling at me, so I thought they were police. Then they tried to take my photo and I heard the word journalist and Patna (the capital of Bihar). I tried to close the door, and one man tried to force his way into the cell. I could see the guard standing there with them and, when I caught his eye, I got no response. I managed to close the door and they eventually left. We were both a little shaken as I tried to work out what the hell had just happened. I knew this would cause problems in the morning.

Thursday 12 June

I woke at around 4.30 am and Sallie woke shortly after. It had cooled slightly so it was nice to lie on the bed. I settled into the very thick mattresses and remembered sleeping on a hessian bag in the prison only a few days ago.

We had a bucket bath at 7.00 am and Sallie called Rajeesh to alert him to the previous night’s events and, unbelievably, Rajeesh called Siddiqui (the SP) to lodge a formal complaint. I don’t know why he called the enemy, but he did and it caused a few problems. Sallie was also able to speak to Bala to alert him to the incident. Bala was very alarmed and rushed over. In the meantime, I had a visit from the prison clerk, Mr Omar. I mentioned the incident of the previous night and asked Mr Omar to ask the guard why he had let these people in. Mr Omar stood up and approached the now-shitting-himself guard. Mr Omar asked who the people were and why he allowed them entry. Clearly not satisfied with the answer or the speed with which it was delivered, he belted the guard on the head and launched into a tirade of abuse, ridiculing him before letting loose with another belt to the head. He then calmly returned to his seat and told me the people were local criminals and had paid the guard off. He asked that I not report the incident, as the guard was a poor man. I told him it was too late. People already knew.

Twenty minutes later, a policeman arrived and pounded on my door. He told me to get my woman out of the gaol. He said my photo was in the paper from last night and it was causing some problems. This was all clearly a lie as the offenders were not journalists and, even if they had been, they couldn’t have delivered the image in time. This confirmed my suspicion that Siddiqui was behind this mess and wanted to cause me more problems. God only knows why this mean prick had it in for me.

Bala came straight over. This guy is the Mayor and the most important guy in town, but the moment Sallie called he dropped everything to help — amazing. Unfortunately, Siddiqui had me on this one, so Bala suggested that Sallie just visit during the day. Sallie was upset, but I was relieved. I didn’t like to see her locked up with me; it was heart-breaking. I also couldn’t settle with her in my room. I was constantly worried that something would happen to her. So, I was happy to see her return to Biratnagar to the hotel for real food, a proper bed and a nice warm shower.