Call of the Wild. Graeme Membrey
on landmine misuse, or more specifically, booby trap usage as described above. This was not always as easy as it sounds and at times was downright Bolshi as some individuals and groups seemed to want to use and manipulate these perceptions. They did so in order to either gain greater funding for their particular cause or further pressure the new Russian Government, now that the Soviet State had collapsed. Yet, I was also responsible for the major presentations we had to give to confirmed and potential donors and the interested media. All this, of course, came on top of my missions into Afghanistan that were about to increase in their duration and frequency.
ooOoo
In my first months at ATC we were located in an old large house in the western area of Peshawar and every room was turned into an office, as was fairly normal for NGOs at the time. It was still 1991 and although it doesn’t seem so long ago to me, in reality it is getting close to 30 years ago now. The building we had was very run down and smelly, and Kefayatullah initially seemed to be a strange guy, though always polite and friendly to me. It took me some time to get to know him, but we developed a very close bond over the coming months. We really came to respect each other and enjoy each other’s company.
I did not have an office at first and so I was assigned to, and took over, what was probably the lounge room when this was a house, even though this was also being used by people waiting for Kefayatullah, or for some other purposes. I seconded the back corner of the ‘lounge’ and had it fitted with a desk, computer, chair, pin board and a filing cabinet. It became a real office, though in an unreal location. I remember not long after this, and not long before we moved to better accommodation, it was the month of Ramadan when there are restrictions on eating and drinking during the daylight hours. To overcome this, I got a large roll of red ribbon and pinned it to the floor in a wide arc around my ‘office space’. Then, on the pin board behind me I fastened a large sign saying ‘Ramadan Free Zone’. I wouldn’t and couldn’t do that these days, though at that time in Peshawar and among all those hardened Muslim fighters who were now deminers, I always got a laugh and it was a well-accepted joke. Better still, I was able to drink tea all day long whilst everyone else was fasting.
In early March 1991, ATC was required to submit the annual report for their demining operations of 1990. It was actually due in January, but as I didn’t arrive in country until about mid-January, ATC just let it slip and now the headquarters were demanding the report. I found out shortly later that this was a hugely important document that was to be read by all the donors and a wide variety of diplomats and other senior persons from many parts of the world, and it was now two months overdue. The donors were typically UN Member States, or governments, and these funds enabled the UN Operation Salam, and therefore the demining program and ATC, to continue to function.
To be honest, the first I actually heard of the lateness of the ATC annual report was on a Tuesday morning at the regular OCHA meeting, when I was asked by the program manager, in no uncertain terms, “Where is the ATC Annual Report? It is late!” Casually, I said I had no idea but I would find out, thinking this was probably a very minor issue of the document being lost in the paperwork and all I’d have to do, would be to re-send it. However, I very soon found out nothing had been done, except for the collection of basic data. By late that afternoon, after confirming the urgency of the document, I set to work on developing a complete annual report, for a period when I was not even present, based on reams and reams of varied data and poorly written mission reports. Further, the annual report had to be finalised, signed by Kefayatullah, and delivered in Islamabad by Thursday for transmission to New York by Friday morning. That was in just two days’ time! Talk about ‘Mission Impossible’.
Luckily, in those early 1990s days, the ‘word processor’ was available, but it was not anywhere near as efficient or easy to use as the steadfast laptop, desktop computer or iPad of today. This was a giant machine attached to a really loud, but very slow and cumbersome printer, precariously well-known for failure. I had minimal experience in these machines given that until very recently, all Australian Army units still employed a number of civilian ladies to type major documents. Access to, and use of, word processors were not that common in early 1991.
With Kefayatullah’s great support and total reliance on me, we started to have the reports translated and I bogged into the English versions and a host of other documents to start to prepare the report. That night I stayed at the office until about 2 am gathering and collating the facts and relevant photos that I thought we could use to present this information in a factual but readable manner. The next morning, I was in the office at about 6.30 am and my eyes burned from the lack of sleep.
ATC seemed to think that I was the best and perhaps only person able to do this report and so they all left me to my own devices, though I did get assistance and support from the administrative officer (Wali Sahib) and of course Kefayatullah.
By the Wednesday afternoon, I had collected what I needed and was ready to start writing. I hopped on board the enormous word processor machine and started to type. But, the ‘delete’ button sometimes didn’t delete, the ‘left and right’ buttons failed often and the ‘cut and paste’ function typically left me with a portion removed but nothing pasted, or every word lost. I was pulling my hair out and redoing large sections of the document sometimes two or three times. I can remember walking back into my house just after 2.30 am that second day too.
Thursday morning was my third and final day to get this report finished, signed and sent to Islamabad. Again I crawled out of bed very early and was in the office at the dreaded machine at about 6.30 am. I swore, belted and cursed, and printed dozens and dozens of draft versions of the document throughout the day. But finally, and to my great relief, late that afternoon it was finished. I had checked and re-checked the spelling, the formatting and the style and was happy to have this version sent to Islamabad and New York. Kefayatullah was ecstatic and hugged me warmly. He looked through the report and a huge smile came to his face and again he hugged me. With his signature and mine, the administrative staff who had been told not to leave the office, made forty copies of the report, bound them and then, on Thursday evening, the completed annual report of 1990 was on its way to Islamabad via an ATC driver. We had done it, well, to be honest, I had done it and I feel quite proud to have done so.
By late on Friday morning, the senior management of Operation Salam at the OCHA headquarters in Islamabad, had read the report and all were very impressed. ATC was given a great response from it.
ooOoo
But this was a short and fleeting episode of the support required for ATC in those days. Another requirement was for me to manage the delivery of presentations to the international community. This was often done by grand presentations when disabled Afghans would be presented, speeches made and demonstrations given. In the first of these presentations, we planned to make it more theatre performance than formal presentation. I had the tents set up so that about 50 visitors were to be seated under cover and we ensured cooling fans were placed appropriately. We also ensured that the stage area was not too high or too low, and that the drinks and snacks were ready to be put out, but would not interfere with any presenters. I planned to use some of our actual deminers as well as noise and equipment on stage to help deliver our underlying message to all: Afghans needed to return home but couldn’t because of the threat of landmines; ATC was the primary force to right this wrong situation. So, we got seven, big, tough-looking deminers and staged their entry into the main tent.
As part of our plan, after all the visitors were seated and the initial speakers had finished, we would announce we were to now have a short speech from one of the deminers. In fact, as he walked through the seated group to the front, a loud bang would be heard, frightening visitors and having our deminer act as if he had trodden on a mine. I would then talk the crowd through the activity as three deminers were to come along the walkway. They had to appear to be demining the ground in an effort to rescue our ‘injured’ deminer. They would find another two buried landmines (we had buried earlier, obviously without explosives) before clearing around the injured deminer, lifting him and taking him to the rear. It was here that our medical team would rush in and simulate treating him, before moving him off. All sounded great and we actually rehearsed this simulation several times until the acting and the timing was just about right.
On the day of the presentation,