A Life Half Lived Page 2

  “Why don’t you want to work in Australia?” asked Rufus. “Because Rufus, at the end of the day, I have inherent faith that the Australian people get it right.”

  Rufus agreed that Australia was lucky but did say, “Remember, there are also talented people there who will try and destroy that.”

  Maritime Law: A Boatload of Russians and a Suitcase of Cash By mid-1995 I’d finished my Masters Degree and had organised to work with the law firm Watson Farley Williams. Watson Farley Williams acted for CIT, a capital investment company based in New York. CIT was owed multimillions of dollars by Adriatic Tankers, and under the terms of the mortgage agreement could take possession of the vessels that Adriatic owned. The problem was that Adriatic Tankers owed a lot of money to a lot of people. Since maritime vessels have their own legal personality, they can be arrested, and this is what happened with Adriatic’s ships – many were under arrest in ports all around the world.

  In order to arrest a ship, a person owed a debt by that ship would go to a local court to seek payment of that debt. The court would order that the ship be ‘arrested’ and not leave port until the debt is paid. Port authorities would be obliged to prevent the vessel from leaving port. Once a ship is arrested, anyone owed money would register their claim. The arrest cannot be lifted until all debts are settled. Where a corporation owns multiple ships, it’s usual for that organisation to set up individual ship-owning companies to try and protect the ships with no debt from other in-debt vessels.

  Watson Farley Williams was looking for different Adriatic Tankers arrested around the world to have CIT’s debt recognised as part of the local court proceedings. In most cases CIT was the largest creditor and would try and negotiate an assignment of other people’s debts for a reduced payment, then go to court with the combination of all debts requesting a court order for the ship’s ownership to transfer from Adriatic Tankers to CIT. CIT would then on-sell the vessel. Early on, CIT had determined that the vessel Rokko San was a ‘scrapper’, meaning that it would be sold for scrap metal. In order to transfer ownership in this way, someone has to fly to whichever jurisdiction the vessel is in and do deals with everyone who is owed money by the vessel, which often would include the ship’s agent, the local chandler, port authorities and the crew.

  The MV Rokko San was a 300-metre, 150,000 deadweight tonne bulk ore carrier with twenty-five crew on board that had been stuck in Varna, Bulgaria for two years. Watson Farley Williams sent me to Varna to find out if it was possible to do deals with the various creditors. I ascertained that the shipyard had a claim for US$150,000, the agent for about US$20,000, the Bulgarian Register of Shipping for about US$43,000, Navigation Maritime Bulgare for about US$16,000, and the crew for more than US$600,000, rising at a daily rate of about US$1,000. I also met with all the creditors to determine the level of settlements that were achievable with all, except for the crew.

  The crew were effectively prisoners on board the vessel, for if they left the ship they would lose their claim, but every day that they stayed on the ship their claim grew larger. In the two years they had been on board many had suffered tragedy in their families back home but had been unable to return there. They were demanding 100 per cent of their back pay. Part of my role was to negotiate the minimum possible because, after all, CIT was not the bad boy in this. After tough negotiations the crew agreed to accept 70 per cent of their claim but with two very interesting conditions. One was that they wanted to be paid in cash in Bulgaria, and the other was that they wanted to meet the client, a guy named Bob DiMarsico.

  In the mid-1990s there simply wasn’t half a million US dollars in cash in Bulgaria to pay the crew. The crew pointed out that as they all came from Vladivostok, and hadn’t been back there for two years, they had no idea which banks still existed, so a bank transfer was out of the question. There was also no chance that any sane person would be going to be walking around Bulgaria with 70 per cent of $600,000 stuffed into a suitcase. The solution was to fly half the crew to an intermediary port where they would be paid in cash, and then return to Bulgaria to pick up the remaining crew. The crew were rightly very suspicious and also aware that once they left the vessel they would lose their claim. By doing it in two halves the crew knew that at least half of them would get their pay as the second half would be insurance back on the vessel. But for the second half of the crew to get paid once they left the ship, they needed to trust me and trust the client, hence their demand to meet Bob. They also asked for US$1,000 each in cash before they would leave the vessel. I returned to London and telephoned Bob, the client.

  “G’day Bob. The crew will settle for 70 per cent.”

  “Great job, you’ve done well.”

  “There are two conditions.” A worried DiMarsico asked what they would

  be. “They want $1,000 cash each upfront.”

  “No problem”, he said.

  “And they want to meet you.”

  I explained to Bob that this was a deal-breaker and that we would have to

  go back to Bulgaria together. But we had another problem. Which intermediary port could we use between Varna, Bulgaria and Vladivostok in Russia, where we could pay two lots of approximately US$300,000 in cash, and where the Russians would be accepted with expired passports?

  As it turned out, Gatwick airport in London was the easiest intermediary port, but it took some organising! Bob DiMarsico flew to London and then we flew together with $28,000 cash in a suitcase to Varna, Bulgaria via Sofia; the first leg with British Airways and the second with Antonov. In retrospect, while on board we were at the mercy of the Russian crew. If they or even a few of them had decided to become violent, we were in trouble. The picture of Bob with a black suitcase balanced on his knees handing out wads of cash still brings a smile to my face. It was no small feat getting the first half of the crew to disembark and follow us to England, and Bob put this down to my ability ‘at the Blarney’ as he calls it. But this was only the first part of the journey.

  The plan was to take half the crew to Gatwick airport and pay them their due. Bob would fly back to New York; I would fly back to Varna and pick up the second half of the crew. Part of the British Airways business is called Special Services. It usually deals with rock stars and the like so when told of my challenge in needing to pay two lots of $300,000 to 25 Russians with expired passports, they said they could quite cheerfully assist, as long as the money was organised with Thomas Cook. We had to trust them.

  We reversed the route from Varna to Sofia and headed towards Gatwick. As the plane touched down at the airport we were surprised when the plane stopped before reaching the gate and an announcement was made, “Could Mr MacLeod make himself known to the airline staff?”

  A set of stairs was pulled to the side of the plane and on came two machine-gun armed policemen saying, “Mr MacLeod please come with us.” The police escorted me across the tarmac, out through customs and into Thomas Cook on the land side of the airport. Thomas Cook had pre-packaged the first half of the $300,000 into the individual bundles for the crew and insisted on a count. After we were satisfied that the cash count was correct, the money was placed inside a metal suitcase, attached to my wrist with a handcuff, and I was escorted back through the air-side of the airport.

  As we walked through the metal detectors they squealed like scalded children. Everyone froze in the departure lounge and stood agape as we passed by with the metal suitcase handcuffed to my wrist, two machinegun-armed escorts, making our way to the British Airways first-class lounge. British Airways had gently told the first-class passengers that they would have to share with business class. The entire lounge was turned over to the Russians, including free food and drinks. Clearly British Airways staff had some sympathy for the plight of the crew.

  Bob re-counted and handed out cash to the first group of Russians who were then trans-shipped home for the first time in two years. I returned to Varna and the entire exercise was repeated before we got the rest of the crew home. Justice was done for
the crew.

  The Problems of Finding Work in Aid When I arrived in the UK in 1994 I started my search for aid work while completing my master’s degree and working for the law firm. My initial focus was on UNHCR. At that time, the UN was going bankrupt, partly due to the refusal of the US to pay their dues, and partly because of an ‘outbreak of peace’. The UN had increased operations in a number of countries such as ‘Operation Restore Hope’ in Somalia, dealing with the Rwandan crisis and peacekeepers in Bosnia. All of these operations were now in relatively stable periods, yet the UN had given permanent roles to people dealing with these countries and couldn’t downscale those permanent postings. The organisation therefore was cutting staff by 10 per cent across the board

  – with job losses falling mainly on non-permanent employees, but also severely restricting new employment. The result was that the UN was overstaffed.

  Compounding my problem of finding employment within the UN was their system of quotas. The UN and its associated agencies hire people on a geographical quota basis as well as on ability, and it had an oversupply of Australians. As a general rule, for any job that is advertised in the United Nations, female candidates from the developing world are considered first. If a suitable candidate cannot be found then they look for male candidates from the developing world. Following that, female candidates from the developed world are considered, and only if no one is found in the previous three categories does the organisation look at males from the developed world. The worst thing to be if you wish to get a job in the United Nations is a white Anglo-Saxon male.

  Australia’s Ambassador to the UN informed me that he would love to help me get into Aid, but as he hadn’t been able to help an Australian female lawyer with 10 years’ experience with the UN General Assembly who had the direct backing of the Australian government to find work, then he saw little hope for my chances. It was disillusioning. After 12 months of hammering on doors, meeting people and asking for jobs, the same message kept coming back: “There isn’t anything here! When we do start looking again you’ll need to have had some Africa experience.”

  Recruiting organisations wanted people with experience – Oxfam and other agencies wanted people with African experience – but how do you get experience? It was a classic example of ‘catch 22’. Many people would like to be aid workers. Yet it is a surprisingly difficult world to access and many who find the system too hard to break into simply give up. In desperation I went into small aid organisations in London and said, “I’ll do anything! I‘ll dig ditches or drive trucks – I need experience!”

  Finally, I was given some really good advice: “If we wanted to hire ditch diggers or truck drivers then we would hire local staff,” an aid worker told me. “You cost us US$100,000 in training, accommodation, transport and insurance, not to mention your salary, before you even arrive in the country. You need to understand what your professional skill is and sell that professional skill. Being motivated is not enough.”

  And that was when I met Thomas Riess.

  My Lucky Break I was sent to Amsterdam from the London law firm in the early part of 1996 to attend a shipping law conference. As I cast my eyes down the attendance lists my eyes settled on one name: Thomas Riess, deputy head of the transport division of the International Committee of the Red Cross. Taking my chance, I introduced myself to him.

  “What are you doing here, Thomas, we’re all lawyers and insurance companies screwing money from each other, but you are the ICRC?” I said.

  “We are the biggest shippers in the world of cargo to war zones and we have a problem with a Bill of Lading,” said Thomas. A Bill of Lading is the legal contractual document involving cargo and ships. This was right in my area of speciality.

  “Let me take a look,” I ventured. With the help of others in the firm we rewrote the ICRC Bill of Lading overnight and gave it to Thomas the next day.

  “How much?” he asked.

  I told him it was free, and gave him my CV. Thomas asked me what I wanted to do with the ICRC, to which I suggested that if he had anything in his division I’d take it.

  “No,” he replied. “As a lawyer you want something like inspection of POW camps and dissemination of the Geneva Conventions in war zones. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Coincidentally at that precise moment in Belgrade, the Dissemination Delegate, Pierre Townsend, the person who had responsibility for International Humanitarian Law and relations with the armed forces for the ICRC office, quit. It was good timing for me. The day after my chance meeting with him, Thomas returned to Geneva. He went into a meeting held by the dissemination division just as they were asking where they would find another English-speaking lawyer who understood the law, the military and was ready immediately to replace the delegate who quit in Belgrade. Thomas called to ask if I would be interested. Was I interested? At last, my dream was beginning to materialise.

  Thomas sent my CV to the dissemination people at the ICRC who sent it to the recruitment section who wrote informing me that they could do nothing as I was not a Swiss citizen. In those days the ICRC hired few nonSwiss. The ICRC was founded by a Swiss, based in Switzerland and firmly believed that only Swiss could be neutral. The recruitment section did say that perhaps I could be ‘loaned’ to them by a National Red Cross Society and that I should speak to them. I rang Thomas for an explanation. This was the official line, he said, but we could try some unofficial stuff. He put me in contact with Vivian Mattay of the recruitment section at the ICRC. Vivian said that she would send my CV to the British Red Cross (BRC), expressing an interest on my behalf; and then hopefully BRC selection would be a formality. It wasn’t.

  The theory went like this: I would first have to be pre-selected by the BRC, then do a selection day with them and if accepted be placed on the list of approved delegates. Every two weeks or so the ICRC would send a list of positions that they need filling, leaving National Red Cross Societies to nominate the people that they think are acceptable. Once I was on the approved list I could advise Vivian, who would then ask, innocently, “What about Andrew MacLeod?” If the BRC then said, “Well, he may be okay,” I would have to go to Geneva for a formal ICRC interview. If accepted by them then the file would return to the BRC for funding approval. The Desk Officer responsible for the geographical area that the ICRC wanted filling would then decide if he could afford the funds to have me do that job. It was overly complex, bureaucratic and entirely normal for the aid world.

  So much reliance was placed on events and people beyond my influence. There was an awful lot of “if this, then that” had to be got through. So many things could go wrong, but I had to play my role and hope. With Vivian’s pushing there came an invitation for a BRC selection day in early July 1996. Vivian intimated that the ICRC had a position that they needed filling urgently. After a week’s wait, the BRC let me know that I had succeeded at step one, subject to them receiving urgent references. I told Vivian who then called the BRC “out of the blue” to see how things were going. The BRC then called me back with the “surprising news” that the ICRC wanted to see me the next Wednesday. Could I make it? they asked.

  Of course I could. Nervous, excited and scared, I was getting closer to my goal. The day with the ICRC went well with relatively simple questions about the application of International Humanitarian Law and the relationship with the military, the first time my military experience became clearly relevant. We also spoke of my military training and legal background. The head of dissemination finished the day saying that he wanted to send me to Yugoslavia to fill the position that Thomas had advised me about.

  Yugoslavia is a country in which the operational language is English. In most other countries it is French. The ability to speak French is usually compulsory to work with the ICRC, but as Yugoslavia was a non-francophone mission, no one remembered to ask whether I could speak French.

  There was still another hurdle, though. Funding. I returned to England and waited another week. Vivian unofficially called to say that the
ICRC was serious about the position, and would ask the BRC if they would pay for my posting.

  I called my voicemail to check the messages. My knees buckled and I sank to the floor. I became oblivious to all around me as it seemed finally to be happening. Yes, my selection was successful and the British Red Cross would approve my posting should the ICRC have one! There was no absolute certainty, however, as it was all subject to a successful completion of a basic training course. Another hurdle.

  The basic training course was held with the Austrian Red Cross. With a little bit of good fortune, that which I’d strived for and set my mind to seven and a half years earlier was about to come true. It had taken a lot of planning and persistence, and a tactful sense of when to push or sit back and hope. I’d fought so hard and for so long to get a role with one of these organisations, and hoped not to be disappointed.

   2.

  Understanding Yugoslavia

  Like many war zones, Yugoslavia is deeply misunderstood by people in the West. Opinions formed on the basis of 30-second sound bites are rarely well informed. Few people take the time to learn the history and try and understand why it is that others engage in something as horrific as war. The Berlin Wall dividing Germany came down in 1989 and many of us remember the spread of cheer across the world as the Cold War ended. Good cheer was short lived. The ‘New World Order’ was tested in August 1990 by Saddam Hussein when he invaded Kuwait. Russian president Gorbachev faced a coup in August 1991, and somehow a war had started in Europe, in Yugoslavia, by August 1992.