Ch (8a) Malicious Intent

Names have been substituted.
They...?

.. in sickness and in health.. good times and bad..until we die?
Or end up in jail ?

For years l have waited in vain for a letter or a card from them ..  but none came.
I wrote frequently and phoned when i could very rarely.

There was no response.

I contacted a number of mutual friends who gave me small bits of news of home and the young boy.

Various very special and concerned friends went to visit my two closest at thier little house  in order to determine what could be the problem.
Why there was no response to my letters.. calls.. or messages.

Every visitor was regarded with malevolent hostility no matter how white were the flags they bore.

News returning to me remained guarded and scant.
As if .. all those that made any approach to the lone mother .. were met with something too sad .. too shameful or too awful for them to relay to me the true extent of the situation.

Everybody we know .. and all who have followed this case and its misfortunes.. and my error.. are aware of the shame and ignominy that those two had to endure all these years because of my situation.

I am ever traumatised.. devastated at thier suffering and great loss.
Everything i owned... i signed over to them and assured them that there would be ranks of friends of mine who would line up to lend a hand ..or  extend with some  compassionate support .

But from them there was no response.. only a venomous spewing of hatred and blame toward me and my family.

Isolated and cloistered.. they became aloof ..and all contact with me was deliberately cut off.
My many carers stood back aghast!

Still we remained patient as we clearly all sympathised with the fact that they were enduring such awful shame and humiliation as they attended thier daily lives at work and school and round the town.
We had to respect thier choice of isolation and privacy.

A great silence descended over the whole episode as they hoped that time would wash away the truth of the past.. my indiscretions and the reams of gossip that followed them everywhere.
But the silence made it all much worse.
Everyone knew... and those that would normally have been disinterested.. picked up on all the hidden details..most of which were incorrect or deliciously skewed.

After years of further anxious waiting and patient care.. i dared to phone never quite knowing what i would say.
I did it.. and it wasnt so bad.. but only because i did not dare breach any of the more pressing issues i really wanted to resolve.
Again i did it and penetrated a little further every time.... but never nearly as much as i so desperately yearned to learn of.
This time i really needed to find out why it was i had no responses from him.
Whether it was really him that was angry and mute.. or whether it was  her stopping any and all forms of my communications.
The details of this conversatiom are briefly covered below..

Of course times are hard and understandably money is short and that was her primary concern and any funds i can summon further i should attempt to divert to her.

Then i told her i was not yet in any position to make any firm commitments.. but that there would be a residual payment coming to her..as soon as i could manage it.

This was vague and non committal .. but my situation is the same.

Then i said that i wanted contact with him now... soon....
This weekend.

I asked for his mobile number and email address.

Both were declined.

I then asked her to allow me to phone him at school and for her to lift the sanctioned contact there.

She declined all of this.

I asked then whether she had given him all the letters i had written.None have been given to him.
I then asked her to give me some "positive press "  with him so that he would be more inclined to contact me himself.

She declined saying he was angry with me... and the professional opinion of the psychiatrist had insisted that there be no contact.

It was here i smelt a rat.. and realised that it was not him and his anger doing this.
It was her....

I responded saying it was clear that it was she ..that was causing this negative non communication.
I told her this  to her face and again she reiterated that it was by order of the professional psychiatrist.

I said that psychiatrist had never met me nor has any idea of my character or the circumstances... and i would love to get hold of her.

I could see where this was all going and declined  more emphatically her further requests for me to pay her money for my son.

She said he has suffered eight years of extreme humiliation and suggested that i had no idea of this.

I said that I suffered every day the utmost shame and embarrassment.

I mentioned that there were now hundreds of  caring and sympathetic people who know of all this... and that every day  my cruel separation from him... is  a great sadness for them as it is clearly an agony for me.

I told her of all the times i had explained to everyone how much l was aware that she and the boy had suffered.. how much she had achieved as a lone mother... and how hard things were for her now.

I mentioned that many people i know...are aware of all this.. and share this sadness with me.

I mentioned then that it would be in the boys interest to contact me because his welfare could benefit from my  future financial situation.. should he decide to make the call.

She replied angrily saying i was using a blackmail tactic.

I said i was not going a single week further without contact and not a cent would be forthcoming unless there is a two way street.

She said she cant force him to contact me.. i said all she needed to do was to give me a bit of "positive press" and he would quickly come to his senses.

She declined saying she cant force him to do anything against  his will and that he was angry with me for fucking up his life and causing him to miss so many opportunities.

.These sounded to me like her own words ? 

By now it was clear to her... that I knew it was her that was doing this... and I said to her,  that every facebook request of mine that he has deleted.. has been like a stab to my heart and his finger in my eye.

I said that there were hundreds of our friends all behind me waiting for him to wake up and make contact with me and that there would not be a vestige of shame to bear.. only care.

She said no one had offered her the slightest bit of help thru the whole ordeal except my mom to a limited degree.
My mom often begged me to get her to visit and to collect cash and gifts.. but she declined.. siting too busy and not keen on begging herself.

I made it clear that there were hundreds of dear caring friends  standing in the wings,  ready to help, but were too horrified at the way she had spurned.. rejected and betrayed me as i lay so helplessly out of contact in a distant jail.

Many who would have pulled together in many different ways .. had this acrimony not been present.

The shame and embarrassment was only magnified by her  disproportionate betrayal and malicious treatment of me.

I asked then.. how much longer she expected me to continue being cut off so entirely.. and that there was no chance of my feeding funding into this angry one way street.

Once again she said this was blackmail.. and I said absolutely not.

I said to her.. i loved her.. i always will.. and that I loved him very much and only want the best for them both and said I was the one most tired of all the begging now.

I said i planned to let my brother buy a rentable property for me and that if all went well .. she would collect the rent from that.

I let her know i would never return to south africa but that i would have airtickets available for them when i regain my balance in the U.K. 

I said my brother Hamish.. was now my closest trusted family and that he will administer the business of finances.

Should  he die.. then the proceeds would cede to my nephews who express more love and care and interest in me than her or my angry son. 

I said i was fully aware that everything I give to her will go to his benefit .

So.. by now she was well on the back foot and threatening to put the phone down but i think good sense may have prevailed.

I said again that I had waited patiently for eight years.. and I   wanted to know how much longer she was going to keep me isolated from him.

I said i am not waiting indefinitely and this malitiod torment had to stop.

I also mentioned that I am publishing all this far and wide as I have been doing.. and that isolating the boy is not going to reduce the shame and embarrasssment which shrouds this whole debacle.

Everyone knows whats happened  and its all the worse for gossip and rumours when nobody says anything or knows the facts.

I mentioned then to her... that nothing i could do will change what happened .. and I have repeated my apologies..sorrow and regrets for my aknowledged indiscretions.
I would continue to do this publicly and will remain open and accountable.

How long am i to remain isolated from him?

How long is he going to remain angry and cut off from my love and associated benefits ?

Give him all my letters now!!

Tell him to mail me.

I said many friends had tried talking to him.. and she mentioned all the previous visitors bearing paltry gifts.

I said I would request more folks to come in and try.. but she said not to bother..the boy is too upset and angry and wont listen.

I said to her.." its all been you.". "Its all up to you"

Now we all know whats going on

We all knew

But now we are sure

We were right

Ch (16) divorce; Exed in Posterity

Lonely Road

Still fire

Still we grow

Still i love her and care

Still .. she will never know

Still im gently sad with soft regret

Still i hope she may review her ire

Still i will be patient all the years

Still hopelessly jailed but free

Still getting stronger

Still progressing

Still just me

Now

Voyage of John Bell by Bonzo

In winter, the northern gales thunder across the peninsula, and rain cascades on the mountains, to feed the Silvermine River at their feet.
And strangely this ice cold amber torrent is typical of the mountain rivers of the Western Cape, for it leaches the organic salts from rock and mountain root providing the sweetest, purest nectar, all to waste in profligate fashion in the wintry sea off the Indian Ocean at Clovelly.
Summer draws to its lusty zenith at Christmas time. The Silvermine River becomes a stream of little consequence forming a clear, dark lagoon between the sea and the railway track, where it is nurchered until the Northerly winds return to our parched shores, and provide relief from the heat.
And this is where John Bell spent his Christmas, alone, but content.
Earlier that year he had relinquished his job at the (plessey) factory where he labored to connect a myriad of small wires and soldered spots on the telephone exchanges and electronic gadgets which his company manufactured under the strictest security conditions.
A quiet, gentle man of 35 years, his shy smile was easily drawn by anyone who took the trouble to greet him.
John was a dreamer. Not for him the cares and hassles of commerce and industry. His weekly wage provided him with his meagre requirements leaving enough to nourish his dream.
The only son of his mother, who lived in East London, John had no other relative.
The Silvermine River lagoon at Clovelly forms one of the sweetest stretches of Sandy Beach in the world,  through the Fish Hoek Valley.
The "Cape Doctor", the South East trade wind is a frequent visitor to this shore in summer, providing relief from the brassy sun, and a trial to the older inhabitants.
No smog at Clovelly to pollute this little haven, separated from the Atlantic Coast by six miles of sand and scrub.

Here was the framework of his future, the bones of his dreams. John Bell dropped out of his work which taxed his nimble fingers but not his mind. Here, his little craft took shape.
Two small fiberglass hulls strapped together by a trellis of timber and resinned fiberglass to form a catamaran. For good measure, the cabin was a small dinghy, nine foot long, attached like an egg to two rashes of bacon. But snug it was!

On the Silvermine lagoon, he fashioned his sleeping quarters shrouded with a cocoon of plastic, flimsy but weathertight, cramped but snug, for a man who craved (welcomed) a spartan existence.

No bed for John, a board was his choice. No epicurean he, a vegetarian.

This is where the boys first met him during their summer vacation.
Already they had exhausted their holiday spirit, and were curiously eager to return to their desks.
He spoke with them, and his lack of material needs struck those chords which little boys always have, and much older boys never really forget.
Where was he going? Where the wind took him. Would it take long? He didn't know but hoped so.

The constable churned his way through the soft sand, well polished boots  aslither.
"Complaints have been received" and "squatters may not stay more than two months". He had his orders, the fuzz had,... Craft and John must be gone by midnight.
Wanly John assured the young constable that he had only spent one month living on his craft. For four months prior to that, he had stayed with Mr and Mrs Hyland at Kalk Bay around the corner.

MIDNIGHT!
Gareth, Tammy, Grant, and Koo, were aghast at the tyranny of society. The craft had a flimsy mast, no sail or rudder.
Gareth was late home that night. He caught hell in fact! His soft eyed mother even allowed his Dad to lash him verbally unchecked.
They didn't understand, you see.

At a quarter to midnight, Gareth's concern and admiration for this gentle man had given the lad the courage to call at the Police Station and appeal for a deferment.
"Sure son", said the comfortable policeman in the lamplit Charge office. "But you see, that beach and lagoon are reserved for our Coloured people, their family and friends" ." It is only fair that we should not allow white people to squat on their place". "You know how we Whites like to stand up for our rights". "He'll have to move. Oh we feel sorry for him too, but go he must, and soon. We have warned him before, you know".

Early next morning, grunting, shoving and sweating, the cumbersome contraption was muscled through the sand down the beach to the high water mark. Thanks greatly to a nice coloured family whose Dad was such a friendly guy.
It took a long time though, and their legs and arms ached from the effort.

The wind whipped the sand about too, and it stuck to the eyes and mouth as if drawn by a magnet. Sun burned too!
Where do we go from high water mark with the wind blowing the wrong way? They asked. "We wait for the tide to come in", said John.

"He's such a nice chap, Dad," said Gareth. "He's not poor either though he does look a bit, well, You know he hasn't got a house and nice clothes to wear, and I suppose it's quite difficult to keep yourself looking tidy living on the beach. He's got plenty of money though and showed us a thick wad of notes".
"No sir, he's alright is John, and he's so decent. Why, you know he won't use a motor for his boat because he says it pollutes the ocean and kills plankton.
And he's jolly unhappy too. He says that if they break up his boat he will lay his head on the railway line. He says they must break up his home after all his work."
" He has a little bottle that he grows yeast in to make his bread. And a tape player with two speakers.. It must have cost a lot. Tapes and music, all classical you know. We Do like him. We really Understand him."

" But listen lad, there's no ways that craft is going anywhere except to be bashed up by the waves and washed-up against the rocks right there in the Clovelly corner. I really can't bear to watch it happen.
I'm old and know that dreams are for children, and he's a man...
Well, what about a sail? He's going to get one."

I saw the wreckage the next morning.. I glimpsed that frail dejected figure gathering his remaining few sodden possessions and placing them on the beach above the tide.
Later that day, the council lorry and fifteen laborers hefted the whole shooting match back across the railway track.
Very important they were.
Don't know where they dumped it all? But John had gone.

"Oh, he's a nice chap", Mr Hyland told Gareth. "No he hasn't come here yet. We'd be glad to have him back. My wife is ill and she misses him. Getting old you know." You know, he asked me to take all of the furniture out of his room so that he could sleep on the floor. He hung a length of seine net from the ceiling and made himself a sort of little hut of brown paper. Said it was sort of like sleeping in a cave. He should have been a hermit. He had a little gas cooker that he used to make his coffee".
"No, he was no trouble at all. And he loved his classical music, it seemed to make him so happy".
"Yes, I'll let you know when he pitches up". "You don't suppose he's drowned, Gareth?"
A soft smile from one who had completely identified with his older friend.

"Nooo, Dad, not John".
"He would like people to think that. Then they won't hassle him. But no, he won't have drowned".
"You see, I know a lot about him. Not only the good things. You know he smoked pot. Not much, but I think they put him in jail for it once?"
"No Dad, he has been out to sea on a  raft before and had to be rescued".
"He gave me his tape deck and his precious tapes. They had been splashed by waves and he said he wanted me to have them before they got too damaged".

Well.... The lads are all back at school now. Gareth is at boarding school so we won't see him for a couple of weeks. Mr Hyland phoned to speak to him today.

The sea was calm and the wind had died. Very gentle it was when John Bell's body was found just below the high tide mark.

Ch (7) Back End Of 2015

As the weeks slip on by...

I  continue to keep my spirits up by maintaining contact with a few stalwart friends on email and whatsapp.

Its such a great relief to have a waiting message and when conditions permit I will respond as best i can, often taking many hours over a single email reply.

Often just chatting away using voice clips or even video.

Since my most attentive carer.. my old mom has left for a place of peace.. I too am far more relaxed and content to wait for the next significant event in our adventure.

.Its christmas 2015 and I have been fairly muted in my internet  escapades...because I have seen how impotent embassy have been,  even when its clear they are aware of the channels that are open to them to contest my continued incarceration  diplomatically.

Even as there have been significant advances made in the mutual return and exchange  of prisoners as  extraditions by request between judiciaries at top level.

I dont fall into this category as i am not a wanted criminal.. but merely a UK citizen, arrested and convicted under dubious circumstances.I no longer issue a stream of indignant questions and appeals to all manner of knowledgeable and influencial friends...

Appeals for thier advice.. or for them to query or to make appeals for attention to the legal irregularities...or at least for thier approaches for clemency on my behalf.
I am patient and measured..

I am using this time to reassess and disseminate all we have discovered ...evenly.. bit by bit and consistently.

 I recently came across a few notes I had made long ago in 2009.. after my first few months of incarceration.

Questions I had prepared to pose to the next visiting consular representative.

They were sympathetic i think.. but it was so hard for me to communicate with anyone outside.. and even they were at pains to get messages to me.

I wrote as follows;

I am living in a ghost world.. almost surreal it is so awful..

My army training was worse than this though... but even then..I was able to recieve and write letters and phone. But not here..

Im lost in this trap.. quickly forgotten it seems.. muzzled.. helpless.. ashamed because I cant rebuff.. explain or aknowledge my actions.Subdued by this hostile and unforgiving.. punishing environment.

That 1) 
On the day of my arrest l was interrogated under duress alone without legal council.

2) I was arrested alone and in broad daylight as i carried out normal logistical tasking for my empoyers.

3) There were no impartial witnesses and no evidences were presented in court... and embassy were present to see this.

4) No airport or border police witnessed this alledged activity.

The goods loaded onto my vehicle were loaded by kuwaitis in jahra far from any border or air terminals.

5) There was no video or taped evidences....no blood tests or my finger prints on any of the said contraband.

6)  No adequate opportunity to brief with a lawyer.. my appointed lawyer here at the prison.No lawyer briefing before my appeal court hearing.

7). My first court hearing took less than six minutes and my appeal court also had no evidences or witnesses present.. nor was i able to testify at any time nor were any of the proceedings translated for me.

8) I have been so well behaved and have consistently set a good example wherever i may be.

Saving water.. picking up litter.. replacing used equipment...keeping my room and bedspace clean and neat... scrubbing out toilets and showering areas and clean neatly ironed clothes.

9) I have participated in workshops as electrician and servicing technician.

10) I have participated in school where i have learnt to read and write in arabic .

11) I have attended religious and language studies where I have learnt the local.customs and traditional courtesies.

12)  I have been a well behaved model prisoner as confirmed by the senior prison managers who mentioned this to embassy on every occasion.

13) There are a few kuwaiti witnesses who know of the irregular legal processes leading up to my arrest and conviction.
They are prepared to corroberate these details independently and discretely later.
These names are on file with me.

There are a number of inmates in here , who have approached me at various times with details of my deliberate entrapment by the Kuwait C.I.D.
The purpose of illegal entrapment was so the CID police could build  a more substantial case against me to justify the political leverage they required for prisoner plea bargains.

These individuals declined to give me thier names or any further information for obvious reasons of personal safety.

As Time Goes By

Well..its been seven long years and three months and time again for all the same old Christmas Carols.

I practice a good few of them on my lonely clarinet almost daily.. usually after my thick steel cell door is slammed shut every night round nine pm.
Sometimes though.. the music doesnt find its way to my fingers and my energy is low and my soul as flat.
Everyone has days like these , and many have more reason than me to be deflated.

I too have had so many things all so much worse than what I endure here every day .. so actually I am not complaining or making out to be all hard done by.

No.. not here.. not now... not  ever.
Ive been in touch with so many friends.. and have never a dull moment on this small illegal device.
There is always something of interest going on or someone to talk to.

Kuwait and U.K. have now signed extradition agreements regarding the exchange of prisoners from either side, for offences to be tried at home.
So clearly my case excludes me from this particular judicial cooperation because I am not wanted in the U.K. for any crimes committed there or large amounts of stolen money.

However.. the process of negotiation has been underway for a long time now and the news article this weekend is the third step in a number of stages that have been published over the last few years.
So what it was I really needed to explain today was that even as so many caring friends have  attempted so hard to unearth the facts and to highlight the legal discrepancies and the dubious circumstances surrounding my arrest all those years back.

They were brave.. tenacious and became ever more aware of the devious concealments that had so effectively held me fast under yet  another overloaded and misinformed apathetic judiciary.

My caring friends showering me with encouragement and positive feedback where all I had expected was derision and rolling eyes at my muted pleas for review.
Muted because.. this account on my behalf cannot be made by me.. or be instigated or requested by me.

In order for it to be as genuine and honest as possible  it had to come from those closest to me and those that had cared enough to read through the maze of information and scattered details that I have taken so very long to assemble.
There were a number of glowing testimonials submitted by my closest friends, for which I will be ever grateful and sincerely humbled .. but they were statements that I could not personally request.
Someone else had to do this and compile it all coherently for presentation to the relevent authorities.

All this was done,  and a whole  lot more as I waited awkwardly in the wings watching the accolades and affection from far and wide, come flooding in to form the backbone of the approach for clemency.

Ch (18) My Place

This is my place.. l will post what ever I like.
No one cares for this or what I say.

I have come to realise this after years of observations.
I can laugh and cry and joke and sigh and no one will ever know.
This is my secret pad.. where only those I love or those that care  may chance to read this far.
All too many of my nearest and dearest are themselves so tied up in thier own lifes trials that these sad musings bear no meaning or result in any positive outcome.
Im happy..
Safe
Its you I care about..
I  really do.. because I have time now.. and I give it to you
Only you...  who has read so far
And care.
Thank you..xx

Ch (1) The Basic Events....

I started working at Inchcape Shipping Services trading as KMMC in Kuwait in September  2003 as an operations maintenance manager...and as  a civil eng tech with  military expertise.

My tasks included,  amongst many others,  the supply of men machines and materials to coalition forces stationed all the way from Mosul in the North ,  down through many cities across the face of lraq  to Basrah in the extreme South.

Initially  in  2003, l drove everywhere in company vehicles alone carrying my own weapons  but as matters deteriorated.. our movements came to be strictly under escort by military units at all times. 

I have photos of all these activities on disc back home.

Insurance requirements became  very strict and meant that we had to travel inside military tanks and armoured vehicles.. and on extreme occasions when travelling in our own company vehicles ..only within strict scheduled and protected convoys.. and then in the latter stages from 2005/6 only by heavy armour or by helicopter to various locations away from the basrah airport operations centre where we were based.
It was scary and very dangerous as a helicopter  was shot down over the city 2007 killing crew and a journalist and  similar accidents occurred quite frequently.

We naturally cut down our movements to the bare minimum  and I flew to Kuwait to collect personnel and cash about once a month.. or maybe every six weeks.

As l mention.. the security situation deteriorated early 2006 and a number of my collegues opted out of the scary war ..left the operational area..  and l fell into a more senior position and became the most senior field operations manager over the entire project. 

Port operations at Umm Qassar separated from my control but l still flew in from time to time by helicopter and dropped off large quantities of cash for the execution of shipping services as they required.

All my flights were on military aircraft.. authorised by British ministry of defence (MOD) and as my activities were all operational .. my travel authorisations were military vetted by British Military Attache at the Embassy in Kuwait.

I required no passport and carried only a laminated UK. MOD military authorisation registered with the Kuwait Ministry of Interior.

Copies of all these authorisations are on file at  Inchcape  Shipping Services in Kuwait.

My name was listed on the passenger manifest for that flight on that night of 17th Sept 2008.

As a supplier  of labour ..materials and machines to a number of different subcontractors... l sourced all our requirements and spoke with many local suppliers in lraq.

I was a networker and knew everybody..  and everyone knew me after five full years in theatre.

Inchcape supplied transport for cement delivered to Basra from Kuwait.. for use on construction projects for the UK MOD.

We arranged with military for the refuelling and return of the trucks within military convoys back to Kuwait.

One day,  for reasons l do not know.. politics intervened in our operations because someone somewhere in the Kuwait supply chain... had been left out.

Noses were out of joint and  Kuwait authorities blocked the passage of 18 fully loaded cement trucks forbidding further of export of kuwait cement to lraq...

The main contractors were forced to make urgent alternative arrangements to locate Iraqi produced cement from a factory in Nasriya. 

I had an arrangement with the main lraqi building contractor working for the same primary client as Inchcape. 
My company had till now,  been supplying all the cement from Kuwait... to him for use  on the MOD contracts within the military enclave at Basrah airport.

Inchcape and the Iraqi Contractor, together,  supplied goods and services to the main contractor building four very large.. rocket proof mess halls and a hospital.

A lower grade lraqi cement was inconsistent , and failed in strength tests, and so it became imperative that the batches bought from Iraq were very carefully monitored ...and for every batch,  there were samples sent to Kuwait for specialist laboratory testing.

This had to be done quickly  and  efficiently and road transport was too inconsistent and unwieldy.

My team was able to palletise every batch sample and to get it onto consistent and reliable military air  cargo... and we provided this service to the lraqi contractors who paid lnchcape cash.

That is the cash i carried with me that day in my briefcase along with all the billing details.

A consignment of test samples was supposed to be ready for shipment by the 20th  September.. but I was going on leave on 17th.

The lraqi contractors were clearly annoyed with me for leaving to go on leave before l had supervised the labeling and packaging and shipping of the samples. 

But the cement had not even left the factory in Nasriya yet and l was quite sure my collegues were competent enough to do the job in my absence.

So I left and flew out midnight of the  17thsept2008.  

I flew out on a hercules troop plane with UK embassy staff travelling home from Baghdad,  along with many soldiers.. as I carried only my body armour helmet and briefcase with paperwork and the cement money.

I arrived at the Kuwait military airport and went through all the high security checks before leaving with the embassy staff in the black embassy suv.

After l had arrived back at the little hotel which Inchape chose to use.. l took the company vehicle to get to my office where I was to go over all the paperwork and finances for the next few weeks.

As l drove to my office.. the lraqi contractors phoned me from their location on site in Basrah airport in lraq.

They asked me why l had not waited till 20th sept to facilitate the test samples to get to Kuwait. 

I explained that my team would be doing the task and they could phone me anytime if there was any problem. They were clearly very annoyed.

I dont remember his name but  then the lraqi construction manager phoned me as l drove,  asking me to collect some equipment of his, which had come down from lraq the previous week by truck.

I dont know the details and only got myself into much more trouble by  guessing.

I was running late.. it was Thursday and my bosses at the office were expecting me along with a heap of gifts I had managed to get hold of some weeks previously.

So l was a bit annoyed by the request to detour so far out of my way.. but l carried with me cash they had already paid to lnchcape for services provided and services still to supply.

So l was strictly obliged to do their every bidding and to keep our relations on track for the promise of much future business.

There was no question.. l had no option.. and so l sped out to collect all they had waiting for me in the pickup truck l drove.

As mentioned previously in blogspot.. l drove straight to the fuelstation where they directed me.. and then loaded the articles.. and left immediately to the location they told me to go to,  near my hotel.

There was nothing illegal or suspicious and l trusted them all completely.  
I had worked with them for months before,  loading and unloading cement in the batching yard and had eaten lunch with them a couple of times.

When l arrived, the whole CID  drug squad were lying in wait for me there ,  as they had arranged with the cement dealers and lraqi contractors  back in Basrah.

They made the whole thing look like it was l that was "the big drug supplier",  who had just driven from lraq in my pickup with a load of beer .. hashish inside a spare tyre and a whole pile of cash.

Nothing could have been further from the truth,  and there l was,  the biggest gullible fool trying to please everyone.

The rest is all written in my blog.

This all happened afternoon 18th Sept 2008.. and I was booked to fly home to my family in CapeTown the  following day.

They took all the cash.. threw all my documentation out into the carpark and interrogated me alone for three days until finally in the end..
someone phoned lnchcape and the embassy.

The whole thing had been meticulously planned and it is so awfully simple to see now in hindsight.