THE SANDSTORM
Life on a
tanker proved to be very hard, more so than I had imagined. Despite this, I
gritted my teeth and decided to persevere. I didn’t have that many options
anyway.
We arrived in
Saudi Arabia and anchored waiting in queue for an order from the port authority
allowing us to tie at the platform and load our cargo.
The days were
passing, and we received no message. Those were hard times because there was a
financial crisis and therefore difficulties in closing deals for the
transportation of petrol. So, out of necessity, we waited for almost a whole
month.
During this
stressful wait and a few days before receiving a message from the company that
it had secured a charter, I was standing with the handyman on the ship’s deck.
It was a summer day, hazy due to the hot air coming off the sea mixing with the
vapours created by the scorching sun evaporating the water, and we were looking
at the yellow sand stretching beyond the shore at a distance of approximately
half a kilometre from us. The endless sand covered the country of Saudi Arabia,
creating a lifeless scenery with no vegetation.
The desert of
Arabia is a dry area but every now and then, and quite rarely, it is beaten by
gale force winds and heavy rain. It is a vast uncultivated area with a lot of
sunshine and permanently parched soil, inhabited by tanned, dark-skinned
people.
Despite all
this, in its endless desolation, in certain locations there are small oases,
that is to say, places with greenery, mainly palm trees, and water wells. In
the old days, these were stations for the merchants’ caravans crossing the
desert transporting wares from one city to the other and from one country to
the other. They were places of rest, replenishment and shelter from monsoons
and sandstorms. The winds blowing over the desert are quite strong and very
often create whirlwinds that change the terrain of the desert forming wavy
valleys and tall sand dunes, sometimes huge and artfully sculpted, like works
of art.
These were my
thoughts as I stood under the shade of the stern gazing at the great expanse of
the desert shore. We were about half a kilometre away and the hazy atmosphere
created a shimmer that formed strange and savage shapes floating over the
ground.
My mind had
recalled bad thoughts. As we know, when something sinister comes to our
attention, our mind races to equally sinister thoughts. Subconsciously and for
no reason, just by looking at the shimmering air creating all sorts of
incorporeal shapes, my mind took me to evil yellow images of hell and
apocalypse.
Knowing that
malevolent and strange monsters come from the sea and the sand, I suddenly saw,
or thought I saw, the beast of the apocalypse taking shape in the scorching
haze and leaping from the sand into the air, filling the sky with its huge
body. And immediately I brought to mind the words of John the Evangelist “then
I saw a beast with ten horns and seven heads rising out of the sand and sea…”.
And, as I watched, the huge shadows of the sand transformed and changed shape,
becoming a beast with horns and many heads.
Suddenly, the
beast turned its head towards us, and with a mighty whirl flipped its whole
body, and attacked us.
It was a
whirlwind, a desert storm, and in fractions of a second, from one moment to the
next, we were cloaked in yellow sand with shards of sand mercilessly beating us
and scratching our faces before we even managed to seek refuge inside the ship.
With our eyes
bleary from the sand we entered the safety of the ship and stood at the port
hole watching the rabid wind forcefully carrying the heavy sand that beat the
bulkheads and whistled eerily, deafening and scaring us. It was a phenomenon I
had never seen before but had read about it in books. I had never imagined what
an uncontainable force and fury sand could be when swept by the wind. It
savagely beat the thick panels of the ship making a terrible noise that pierced
our ears and made our eardrums hurt, frightened our hearts and caused us to
panic.
With our
senses numbed by the stress of watching the magnificent show, I watched this
natural phenomenon in all its glory. Hoping that nature’s fury would quickly
die down and the strong wind would abate so that the beast of the desert passes
us by, I watched dumbfounded and without being sure within myself whether I had
fear or admiration for the majestic phenomenon taking place before my eyes.
And the beast
left, just as it had appeared. Suddenly. It disappeared into the horizon,
leaving behind a total silence, without the slightest of sounds. As if time had
stopped and stalled life itself. The deck was covered in sand. Whole mounds had
gathered in the ship’s remotest crevices. I noticed that the panels of the ship
had changed colour. The force of the wind carrying the sand was such that it
stripped the paint and revealed the thick undercoat in many parts of the ship.
“The sailors will have a lot of work in the coming days”, I thought.
At the bow I
saw the metal door of the bridge open and the second officer climbing down the
steps. I knew he was going to call the boatswain and order him to clean the
sand and dust off the ship. At the same time, I saw the stern deck door opening
and the boatswain coming out to meet the second officer, sure, as he knew his
job well, that the latter would be looking for him.
I also headed towards the engine room because
I too knew my job well. I knew that any minute now the telephone in the engine
room would ring and we would receive an order from the bridge to commence the
sanitary, that being the pump that sent seawater to the deck where the sailors,
using hoses, would wash the whole ship of the dust and sand.
NAGASAKI OF THE SAMURAI
A little
before the twentieth century, a group of Samurai warriors wiped out a whole
family, butchering them with their famous swords. This was a crime that needed
to be punished in order to restore justice. The administrative authorities
however recognized that the Samourai were executing orders issued by their
master so, instead of convicting them and bringing them shame, they allowed
them to carry out hara-kiri and die honourably in accordance with their
standards, as honourable warriors, since the laws of the Samurai dictated that
they obey their masters blindly, without question nor resistance.
This was an
incident that shows the Japanese way of life before World War II when many
things changed, and the Japanese started to lead a way of life closer to
western standards.
Nagasaki is a
Japanese city known through history as the city of the Shogun and the Samurai.
Shoguns were
the senior military leaders and masters of the Samurai during the middle ages
and the Samurai were armies of the great Feudal Lords with a mission to guard
their property. Their culture was founded on the quintessence of a warrior of
great ability and high level of training. Their main dogma was honour defiance
of death, they fought bravely for their master and preferred an honourable
death than the shame of being defeated. The tradition of hara-kiri, a
ritualistic way of suicide as the only permitted way out in case of defeat or
dishonour, emanated from this defiance of death.
As a people,
Japanese culture differed from that of the Europeans. Generally, their way of
life and behaviour was very different. The noblemen belonging to a higher
social class used the masses as tools to serve their needs.
During the
centuries, this way of life remained the same with the only changes being those
in who possessed the power. The traditions and beliefs were not changed. Even
the architectural building principles remained, to a great extent, unchanged,
the main changes being just in decorative details, while during the passing of
the various dynasties, they were subjected to just small influences from
extrinsic factors. Their architecture basically adhered to its own elements and
managed not to be influenced by European architecture.
Nagasaki is
built on a long and narrow cove that forming a natural harbour. We were
relieved when we entered the harbour and prayed to thank St. Nicholas who
helped us to safely navigate the wild Indian ocean. Voyages on this ocean were
very difficult at times, due to the monsoons blowing in alternating directions
and creating different surface currents and large waves.
We had endured
a long voyage that caused us hardship as the sea was rough and with winds high
up on the beaufort scale making sailing difficult. The waves swept over the
ship for the duration of the voyage and the sailors on the bridge as well as
the engineers in the engine room put up a big battle. We were tossed about more
than other times because the waves and currents were against us. We were forced
to sail slightly parallel to the weather to reduce our risk, and that resulted
in our voyage lasting longer.
Following the
long voyage, we returned to the Persian Gulf. After remaining anchored waiting
for the company to secure a charter, we sailed for Japan.
We loaded our
cargo at Ras Tanura, one of the main energy sources of the modern world. They
named petrol the “black gold” and they were right, as it’s uses are unlimited
since ancient times, before it was even discovered.
A long time
ago, petrol leaked on the surface of the land, and in japan and elsewhere, it
was used as naphtha and bitumen. When natural gas leaked, it was used by high
priests and sorcerers as a force sent by the Gods.
Nowadays,
after the World War, access to petrol was easy as huge reserves were discovered
mainly in the Middle East, and it was transported to various countries with
tankers.
Our cargo
holds were loaded with tens of thousands of tons of mazut destined for the
needs of the ancient city of Nagasaki, a modern city that during the last
years, had developed into a large industrial centre.
We entered the
safe harbour and tied at the dock. The sailors of the ship and the port workers
worked like bees and in just a short time, the engine room pumps were ready to
begin pumping the valuable liquid cargo on shore. It was a little after noon. I
had finished my shift and had eight hours to kill until the next one, and for
sure, I was going to use these hours to tour the new country I was visiting,
the land of the rising sun.
Japan is an
East Asian country. It is comprised of four large islands, Kyushu, where
Nagasaki was built, Honshu, Shikoku and Hokkaido, as well as around seven
thousand other islands sprinkled over the Japanese Archipelago. I was eager to
experience the Japanese culture and the behaviour of the local population. At
the time karate films starring Bruce Lee as well as adventures of the
invincible Samurai battling with their swords against the rifles and machine
guns of westerners were very much very much in vogue.
I wanted to
walk around the shops with the famous Seiko watches and the cheap, superior
technology electronics. I wanted to taste sushi and get to know Geishas and
their story. Sushi is a traditional food based on vinegary rice combined with
seafood and sauces with exquisite flavours. Geishas were educated women with
special training in the arts of dance, music, singing and poetry and used to
serve in the large feudal courts of the middle ages.
Nagasaki has a
history starting thousands of years ago. During the middle ages the city had
become a centre of European influence and became known as the second city after
Hiroshima that was hit during World War II by an atomic bomb. It was totally
annihilated as if hit by a gigantic meteorite. It was a total catastrophe
caused by splitting the atom in an attempt by man to replicate the might of
God. Everything turned into fire and people burned and melted like candles.
Corpses were strewn everywhere and the dying, like mummies without eyes,
staggered before succumbing to death. Hiroshima and Nagasaki, in just seconds,
ceased to exist and were reduced to dead, smoking, hollow cities. Shapeless
piles of rubble were reduced to their molecular composition and covered the areas
where once stood the buildings that formed the cities.
….And after
this total destruction, people rebuilt their city. They gave it a new look,
modern and European. High skyscrapers and sprawling building complexes were
built from scratch and the fast development of high-end electronic industries
made the city rich and prosperous. People worked at a fast pace, like ants in a
state of complete discipline. Everything was orderly and programmed.
I expected to
come across different things, similar to the things I read in books when I was
a boy. I expected to recognize the culture and ancient history of the powerful
feudal lords and emperors protected by vast armies of Shoguns and Samurai. I
expected to meet women in kimonos and men in modern clothes piled into buses
going to work. But I met nothing remotely reminiscent of those things.
Everything was in absolute order and wealth was evident everywhere. Shops with
expensive jewelry and electronic goods that had not even been imported yet in
other countries, well-dressed people in expensive suits walking without staring
curiously at us because we were different, and streets full of only locally
manufactured cars. It was a rich and developed city, more so than other cities
of modern Europe.
AN ICY CHRISTMAS AT SEA
Even in
winter, the sea is beautiful. When the gentle splash becomes a roar that
frightens all your tranquil senses, even this fear has a beauty. When the sea gets
rough and shows her anger, when the blue water turns white and murky, when
ships and shores vanish under the sea’s currents and mighty drag, when waves
rise into the air and dissipate moisture filling the atmosphere with salt one
can taste and smell, one realises the grandeur held and hidden by the sea, how
strong she really is.
Many times,
the issue is how one looks upon the sea. A wild sea in a cove, waves crashing
angrily on the shore or savagely eating away at the coast, or, even from afar,
looking at her from the top of a hill, enjoying the whole view in all its
glory, without, however, having all one’s senses experience her true dimension
since the sea’s roar cannot be heard nor can her great strength be felt when
violently stirring the waters.
I have felt
and I have faced her might in the middle of the sea, in angry and rough waters,
when travelling in seafaring ships across dangerous oceans from one country to
the other, far away, at the ends of the Earth. We faced extreme cold, snow and
ice that froze the drinking water in the ship’s tanks. We travelled in sub-zero
temperatures that cooled the exterior sides of the boilers in the engine room
which we touched with pleasure in order to warm ourselves. On long voyages we
had never done before, in places where the sea froze over, and the waves
remained suspended like solidified liquid sculptures.
I remember it
being Christmas on one of these long and endless voyages. The wind was icy and
the fog covering the sea was lethal.
On board,
sailors and engineers were thinking of our loved ones at home and with frozen
hands we would light a cigarette in the hope that the smoke would warm our
innards and our cold hearts. We walked on the stairs and in the corridors in an
attempt to get warm. The wind was so cold it burned like fire and the extreme
cold penetrated the hermetically sealed metal doors and froze our bodies’
extremities, causing frostbite.
I wondered; is
there really a Hell, or did God create it upon this Earth? Is it possible that
fiery Hell be worse than the merciless weather that burns us with such frost?
I shook my
head thinking this to myself while huddled next to the boiler to get warm. Next
to me, the old stoker, Gasfikis, said that never in his long sailing career did
he ever come across such freezing weather. He said that he never before
celebrated Christmas in such unbearable cold.
The sailors in
the dining room were feeling even colder and ecstatically watched the portholes
freezing over while, outside, the wind howled, appearing to have taken solid
form as it froze the sea vapours in midair.
Festivities,
and particularly religious celebrations at sea and away from loved ones bring
upon us a feeling of sadness. The loneliness and nostalgia of Christmas saddens
sailors and their thoughts are with the people they love, and they are immersed
in dark thoughts, reminiscing about wonderful festive family gatherings at
home. It makes no difference how well they have come to terms with the
loneliness of isolation, away from their people, especially at Christmas their
thoughts are inundated by memories of adored voices from past Christmases and
their nostalgia increases.
And so,
Christmas day passes, and so do all other festive days on seafaring ships
travelling for days with just sea in the horizon, in every direction. Those who
decide to follow this profession, know how lonely isolation can be.
However,
during this voyage, our sad thoughts of home were compounded by the cold
weather that froze us to the bone and numbed our bodies, the large waves that
shook the ship, and the freezing wind that frosted our breath and caused us
pain from the intolerable cold.
This was
weather that neither I nor the other sailors on that ship had come across
before on the seas we had travelled. It was freezing conditions before
Christmas with a wind so cold it burned like fire, and the extreme frost went
right through us causing us immense pain.
