" Not my problem, not my aircraft - if that's how they wanted to treat their only remaining asset, too bad, so sad."
Nice attitude Mach. I bet you took the money from them at the end of the month anyway.
Zanz. The story by Mach was a good one. I knew exactly how he felt when he wrote "if that's how they wanted to treat their only remaining asset, too bad, too sad." I think you have misunderstood what really went on during the days of Air Nauru. There were good things - there were bad things and the Nauruans in those days were quick to deport any expatriate that criticised their policies and their behaviour. I saw the quick deportation of so many excellent New Zealand and Australian school teachers who loved teaching the local children.
Some had been there for several years. If I recall, the teachers were on about $8000 AUD a year - free accommodation etc no tax. Then one fateful period after the President had been to India to stitch up a Phosphate agreement, he hired an Indian bureaucrat to be the Chief Secretary and Head of the Public Service on Nauru. Within a few months the sackings of loyal Australian and NZ teachers started. Often less than one week's notice to pack up and get out. Miraculously teachers from India arrived en-masse on Nauru to replace them. Also miraculously their wives suddenly produced teaching certificates, too. Soon there was disorder at the schools with Nauruan high school students protesting at the sacking of the expatriates who had been there for so many years.
It got nasty when students started throwing stones at their Indian teachers and a car got burnt up as well. One of the problems was the students could not understand the sometimes incomprehensible Indian accents and especially when it was alleged some of the wives teachers qualifications were faked. More from the Sub-Continent arrived to take appointments in the judiciary and Public Service administration and even the Civil Aviation department. The Chief Secretary was virtually King of the Castle. If the President said sack someone the CS did just that on his behalf because that was his job.
I well recall a NZ teacher that was deported. He packed up his personal effects and boxed them in wooden crates to be put on a 737 scheduled to go to AKL. Word went around the teacher had upset a local identity and so the cops smashed open the crates and left the belongings strewn over the tarmac. Eventually the then Australian commercial manager of Air Nauru arranged for the boxes to be put together and he quietly got them aboard another 737 for on-forwarding eventually to AKL. He was sacked for doing so. There are no shortage of similar stories of the old days. Hence I can readily understand Machiavelli and his shrug of the shoulders about the pigs.
One story I will never forget which perhaps typified the cavalier sackings of loyal expat employees. It is a factual event because I was involved in one small way. A NZ surveyor who had worked on the island for many years made an ill-advised remark in the bar of the Menen Hotel about the propensity of the then President to micro-manage the building design of local houses. At about that time the space station Skylab was orbiting the earth and no one knew where it was going to land as contact had been lost.
Talking to friends at the bar the disgruntled building surveyor said the best thing that could happen to Skylab was to fall on State House - the official residence of the President (Hammer De Roburt). The barman or someone talked and next day the surveyor was called to the Chief Secs office and sacked for (and get this for hilarity) "Wishing ill health upon the President by hoping Skylab would fall on his house."
And how do I know this? Because I was the pilot who flew he and his family a few days later on his way back to NZ. He was seated down the back of the 737 when he related his story to me. I decided then and there to elevate him to Business Class up front. A captain had that authority in those days. But all that was over 35 years ago. So here is a funny event to balance some of the less funny stories.
737 Nauru to Nandi and return. Centaurus PIC. One hour turn around at Nandi so the four air hosties visit Nandi passenger terminal to buy ice-creams for themselves and gifts for relatives back on Nauru. A drunk is seen staggering around the terminal and on their arrival back on the Air Nauru 737 a hostie tells me. There were a couple of other airliners including a QF 747 at Nandi so I hoped the drunk was not coming to our plane.
We get airborne and happily wing our way towards Nauru. Weather is good with a few CB with tops well below us. The hostie call ring sounds and it is the youngest hostie who says in a small voice that there is a gentleman down the back who would like to visit the flight deck. The OK is given and within seconds the cockpit door bursts open and a drunken "gentleman" appears looking like Godzilla in combat boots. He wavers then thrusting one hand forward to shake hands says "I am a personal friend of the President.'
Down the back many eyes are seen looking nervously through the cabin at this tall half pissed Osama Bin Laden look-alike minus head rags and beard, leaning into the cockpit with both his arms draped over the back of the pilots seats. Not a good look even though hijacking was unheard of in our part of the world. In fact, he was a delightful drunk with a keen sense of the ridiculous. But he made no effort to leave the cockpit after a few minutes and his breath was off too. Being a friend of the President gave him a certain status. In those days, if you crossed the President, however inadvertently, then your career with Air Nauru was likely in jeopardy. Cross one of his professed mates and same problem. So for the time being we were stuck with the President's mate. He could even be a local politician..
Then a brilliant thought. Ahead and below were towering Cumulus build-ups with tops around 20,000 feet. We were at 35,000 ft so well above the clouds. By dropping the radar tilt to minus five degrees we could see several big red blobs of moisture-laden clouds. I pointed to the radar and told the co-pilot there was danger ahead and to put on the seat belt signs. The co-pilot thought I was kidding until I jerked my thumb towards our visitor. The co-pilot got the message and faked murmurs of consternation at the radar screen.
"See the red blobs on the radar" I said to the visitor. "The red means dangerous turbulence ahead, so get back to your seat fast and strap in and only drink water for the rest of the trip." For someone half-cut he sure moved fast and the rest of the trip passed without further drama.
After the last of the passengers had disembarked at Nauru I called the junior hostie up to the cockpit and asked her why she had allowed the drunk to go to the cockpit when she knew the state he was in. "I didn't have much choice" she said. "He was my father"
