Saving “Civilian” Andre! : Nuzhat Shahzadi

It was like any other morning. Calm. I could see the ocean –-sunlight trapped on tip of the waves. The salty-sea breeze was warm. I drove to the office. The ocean ran parallel with me.

Road and Ocean running parallel

 . . I anticipated a busy day ahead. Besides battling with the regular, and unexpected-unavoidable-exceptional surprises, I also needed to follow up with the Public Works Ministry on a personal-survival matter. There was a scarcity of fresh-water in Tarawa. I bought a tank of water from Public Works. They promised to transport it to my home––fill up my water storage tanks. This was my supply for washing, bathing, cleaning. For drinking and cooking I used bottled water imported from Fiji.

Water in Kiribati was expensive. The locals mostly depended on rain water-harvesting, and well- water which smelt, was slightly dirt-colored. The water level was shallow and got polluted due to human activities. However, they also bought water when rain water became scarce.

Public Works had only 1 water tanker to meet the high demand. Eta Metai, the secretary was a friend. He assured me I would get my water before the day ended.

“Nuzhat, no petrol in the island,” Akoia, our operations assistant breezed into my office, declared matter-of-fact.

“What happened?” Aah, another challenge!

“Ship is delayed,” she shrugged. “Don’t worry. My sister owns a petrol station. She will hold diesel, petrol for the office car, and yours and mine.” The country depended on two ships that carried necessary (survival) stuff from Suva and Australia every month.

I suspended all movements. Our driver took my car to the petrol pump. I allowed staff to join petrol-lines––only a handful pumps operated on the island. Though I didn’t directly supervise the UN Women and UNDP colleagues, they sought my permission to line up for petrol.

I couldn’t get through to Public Works––phones weren’t working. Akoia volunteered to keep trying.

I tried to work––snail-speed internet connectivity was frustrating. Khim, wife of Andre (WHO), came to see me. We were friends. She grew vegetables, bananas and generously shared them with me. Kiribati was/is the Sahara of edible greens.

Andre and his team were on an official mission to an outer-island. The plane supposed to go back to pick them had technical problems and was grounded indefinitely. Andre was stuck in a faraway tiny island with bare minimum facilities––no health services in case of an emergency . . . He wasn’t carrying enough personal items or medications . . . I assured Khim that I would bring him back, soonest, no matter what.

I began exploring options. The Communications Minister, Hon. Pinto, and the Secretary of Health, Dr Teao, were good friends. We worked closely. Hon. Pinto’s IT company provided us internet support. They had access to our main IT system (not sure how this was allowed––luckily, they were exceptionally honest folks!!). I called both men. They assured me their full support.

The next step was to establish contacts with Andre on the SAT phone, and Lars, UNDSS in Suva. I hopped from one spot to another for the signal without any luck. I took breaks, kept trying. After hours I got through both––Andre and Lars. My entire morning was spent which meant late night in the office to catch up with the pending work. Our internet was friendlier at night as I was the only one using it.

At noon, Dr Teao’s office informed that in the next hours a rerouted special flight was going to the outer island where Andre was trapped to airlift a pregnant woman with complications (Hear! Hear US government and States). Medical service is free in Kiribati.

I got back to Lars.

“No, he can’t fly in that plane. No security clearance,” Lars announced.

Air Kiribati was a two-plane fleet–– Canada DHC twin Otter and Canada DHC-8 Dash-8, each aircraft over 20 years old, 15-20 seaters. Tarawa airport didn’t have the capacity to land planes after dark.

“What are you talking about?” my patience caved. “If he misses this flight, he may be stuck for weeks . . . Lars, better get Andre’s security clearance––he’s boarding that plane. I’m bringing Andre back today.” It’s a UNDSS-mystery why one plane was cleared for UN staff and the other wasn’t.

Air Kiribati Flight to Outer Islands

As the Area Security Coordinator, I approved Andre’s travel. Lars didn’t mess me up. All our communication was verbal . . .

Outer Island (Abemama) Airport area

I was still in the office when Andre landed in Tarawa. His house was next to our office.

“Thank you!” He hugged me. He is a Swiss––not big on hugging.

Later, I called mom (got through!).

“You’re working late?” She had a photographic memory––remembered the time difference, challenging phone connectivity. My tears started falling.

“Love you, amma!” she couldn’t detect the choke in my voice. We got disconnected.

For weeks at any opportunity, Andre would declare (with pride):

“See here? This woman rescued me from the outer island despite UN bureaucracy . . . ” And then he would narrate the entire saga of our joint-rescue-adventure.

. . . Caught inside the wealth of fascinating despairs, I kept hoping . . . continued working . . .

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