Troublesome Musings Entry - July 2015

Coming Clean

“Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know,” Heather said. She smiled and curled up on the sofa, dressed in a casual sweatshirt and faded jeans. Heather exuded a coyness that I found attractive. She was not seductive or attractive, but her confidence won me over.

“What do you want to know?” I asked her. I sat at the other end of the sofa, a respectful distance between us. The remains of the home-cooked dinner sat on the coffee table. The dirty plates and flatware and crumpled napkins soiled by the tomato sauce. We had stayed in that night, feasting on my tested pasta recipe and a few glasses of red wine.

“Anything,” she said. “You’re a bit of a mystery, you know.” She smiled and it warmed me.

You’re right about that. And there was a reason for being opaque. The truth...few knew it and few would stand for it.

“Let me see, then,” I said. I bounced my hands off my thighs, looking at the opposite wall. The dying light of the autumnal evening filtered through the window. The room filled with shadow as the natural light faded. Heather sat curled up on her sofa, smiling, teasing her hair as she waited for my response.

She knew me as well as I would allow anyone to penetrate my shell. If I wanted to build trust and let go of my past life, I needed a good excuse to start. Heather provided as good an excuse as any my brain could conjure. I allowed myself to feel with her. Nothing complex or emotional. Simple feelings that I had suppressed for decades. Those feelings could kill a man in my profession, where distractions led to death.

Once upon a time...

I had plenty of stories to tell, but the one that came to my mind seemed appropriate. If this relationship was going to work, she had a right to know me. The proverbial good, bad and the ugly. And most of my life was the ugly bits. Propelled by nervous energy and the wine, I talked, spewing forth my tale.

“I was in West Africa, at the time. It was a guard job. I had been hired by a mining firm to watch over their diamond mine during a revolution. The sitting government was having a hard time battling the rebels. The company pulled out all the white people. But, they still wanted some semblance of control over the mine. So, there I was, with twelve other guys, training a local protection force.

“After a few months, the situation calmed down, so the bigwigs halved our group. The U.N. got involved and then the Brits showed up. But all that was down south, closer to the coast and the capital. Most of the heavy fighting continued in the west, away from us. But we were close enough to the northern and eastern borders that a lot of activity went on.

“It was an okay job, truth be told. We had a steady supply convoy and the locals were very willing to fall in line. We paid them. We allowed them to keep their families on the compound. They got protection and training from us. We ran regular patrols of the complex and compound and for the most part kept everyone at bay. We had a few scrapes, but nothing as terrifying as what was going down around the country. That was a brutal war, you know. You could guess which one, but they are all brutal. Tribal. Family. It gets personal.

“The remaining blokes figured out you could make a lot of extra money running the border. Drugs, diamonds, guns. That left me to keep the place running. But by then the war was winding down and the U.N. had started to deploy in the area.”

“You were in charge?” Heather asked.

I nodded and continued my tale.

“One of the locals I had was called Joseph. He was a good man. He had a family and he had been a soldier a long time ago. He was middle aged and mature. He followed orders and I made him my second in command. He was fair to all the blokes, and that helped. So when he came to speak to me, I listened. You can only trust them so much, but you have to in the end. You put your life in their hands, but you are always on guard. I always slept with my pistol ready and never let my rifle out of my sight. It’s just smart to be on watch all the time.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Heather said. “I understand.”

The street sounds filled the apartment. They provided a muted soundtrack as the autumnal evening grew darker inch by inch. I nodded at Heather and continued.

“One afternoon Joseph showed up at my hut. He came in and closed the door and I’ll never forget that look. He looked...something between angry and confused. He was about the same size as me, but he was solid muscle, I mean, very sinewy, ropey. You know? Veins popping everywhere, just a man who had worked his entire life and it showed. But he was smart and thoughtful. He could read and write and that helped. I liked Joseph. I liked him a great deal, if I am being honest.

“‘Boss,’ he said, ‘we need to talk’. And with that he started to tell me something. One of the men had gone to the refugee center that was a few clicks south of the compound. Probably looking for family or friends, or whatever. And this man, a guy called Ekobu, he was another good guy. Pretty trustworthy and solid. Anyway, Ekobu started sorting through the people. There must have been thousands and the aid organizations were struggling, overwhelmed. That meant you could wander around without checking in or an escort or anything. And Ekobu met up with some people he knew. And they told him a story. And he told that story to Joseph. And Joseph then told me that same story.”

“What?” Heather asked. She sat in rapt fascination as I told the tale, curling ever so tighter.

“I’ll tell you in a bit. But keep in mind, you’re dealing with a very simple people. Not that they are stupid, just that they believe everything they hear. It is a very oral culture, in that sense. Someone you know tells you something, you believe it. Whether it is about the weather or crops or bandits or magic, you just believe it to some extent. And I knew that. I had operated in that region before, and I know what it is like, generally. So when Joseph retold the story, I did not wave my hands and kick him out of my hut. I listened.

“‘Boss,’ Joseph said, ‘if it is true, we have to do something.’ And he was earnest. I mean, dead serious and he meant it. And this is my best man telling me this, so I have to weigh that. I can’t just dismiss it because it sounds so crazy. I tell Joseph that we’ll check it out and then if it is true, we’ll figure something out.

“Now, I am a hired gun, here. Just a professional contract soldier, right. I have no dog in the fight and I am only there to keep the locals from stealing the mine and compound blind. Which our guys do anyway. I’m just one man in a sea of turmoil and upheaval and I can’t do anything about it. Nor do I want to do anything about it. I don’t care about it, you see. When I took the flag off my shoulder, I gave up a certain sense of civic duty. And the job, the job is about completing the mission, getting the job done. Nothing more. Guys that make it personal or stand on their beliefs end up just as dead as the ones who do it for the money.”

“But if something is so horribly wrong, you would act, right?” Heather asked. “You did when I was there.” She smiled and it felt good. We had a history on the Dark Continent. I had worked security for an aid organization. Heather had been one of the doctors and she had witnessed my heroics in detail a few times. They were not at all heroic, but she had taken a liking to me that had lasted beyond the job.

I turned to face her and shrugged my shoulders. She shook her head in response. I continued the story.

“Joseph told me what Ekobu said to him. The local peacekeepers had made off with several children from the refugee camp. That a group of them had come in a week or so back and rounded up a bunch of the kids and made off with them. The rumor started that the blue hats were going to send the kids overseas to sell them into slavery. Or something like that. No one believed the peacekeepers were going to help the kids or do anything worthwhile. Because no one does that in rural Africa. Very few, anyway. Any foreigner or stranger is usually there to cause trouble and inflict harm. And that was what everyone believed. Hell, the rebels were a mix of locals and ex-pats and hired hands from the neighboring countries. All funded by blood diamonds. It was a crazy mix and the official forces were not much better.”

“But the United Nations is there to help,” Heather said. Her conviction almost trumped her naivety.

“Well,” I said. “Sometimes. Keep in mind a lot of the blue hats are just as poor and backwards as the people they are there to protect. They are not super soldiers like the Americans or Brits. They are as good as they are, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t, but go on,” Heather said.

“The refugee compound was a few clicks away. The main U.N. compound was north of there another few clicks. Joseph told me that there was a new U.N. compound about fifteen clicks west. It was just past the jungle and villages. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere. You could only get there by helo or driving up Route Three and then up a dirt track. You could walk there through the jungle, and it was doable, just a straight shot west.

“If the U.N. was stealing kids, then they wouldn’t be sending them to the main base. That's where all the aid people and journos were. That seemed pretty obvious. So I decided to check out the smaller camp first. I waited until dusk then headed out, making due west through the bush. It was a hell of a hike, but I only took a small pack and my weapon. The place was teeming with all sorts of people, and you never knew what you would run into. Best to be prepared for the worst.

“It took hours, all in the dark and through some thick bush. It was close to midnight when I made contact with the U.N. base. It was set up north to south, with four buildings. There had been a small exploration site there and the buildings were the leftovers. There were two small huts with just one room each at the top and bottom. These huts bracketed two longer barracks buildings, all one story. The barracks had four or five rooms, pretty big, enough for a platoon or so each. At the southern end was the vehicle park. Each end of the compound had a set of floodlights and generators, so it was bright and loud. There was about two hundred meters of open space between the jungle and the compound. It was bare and nothing to hide behind.

“I sat and observed for a few minutes, just taking it all in. I didn’t see a single guard or anyone moving about. I decided to check out the longer barracks buildings. It seemed likely the stolen kids, if there were any, would be in those buildings. I waited and then ran across the open ground as quick as I dared, ready for anything.

“I made it and settled in at the northernmost barracks building. I crept along the side, trying to peek into the windows, but the first two were covered. The third was not covered, but the inside room was dark. Same for the fourth and fifth. So nothing to see here. I crept south, heading towards the second building, close to the car park and floodlights.

“The first window was covered, but the second, well - it was open. I mean, not open, but I could see inside. A light was on, and I saw it.”
“Saw what?” Heather said after a moment of silence.

“I saw it.”

“Okay, but what? Come on. Don’t stop now,” Heather said, the slightest hint of irritation in her voice.

You asked for it.

“I saw two adult men and two small kids. One was a boy, maybe ten and the other was a girl, maybe a little older. And the men were abusing the kids. Sexually. They were molesting them. Having sex. The adult men were smiling and laughing and enjoying it. The kids were not. One of the men was a white guy and the other looked like an Arab or Middle Eastern.

“I watched for a couple of minutes and then moved on to the other windows. In the fourth window, I saw a room with the light on and filled with kids, boys and girls. I tried to count them, but the kids kept moving around. But there were at least twenty kids. You could hear some of the laughing and noise from the sex party, and the kids looked beaten. Depressed.”

“Oh, my,” Heather said. She covered her mouth in shock. She curled up even tighter. I looked at her with no emotion on my face. “That’s horrible.”

“I’ve been all over the world and I have done...lots of stuff. I am no angel, I never claimed to be and would never think of myself as any sort of guardian or protector. And seeing grown men having sex with kids is pretty horrific, but I was not bothered. It’s shameful and awful that I am like that, but there it is. I’ve seen child soldiers and killed them. I’ve seen eight year olds burn an old woman to a cinder because kids can be cruel. I’ve seen twelve year old boys hack at a man with rusty machetes. I’ve seen kids beaten and killed with little regard. It was not a good image, mind you, and it was simply inexcusable, but I have seen worse.”

“But, you just watched it,” Heather said. She was struggling with the story, that was clear. “It’s not right. It’s wrong.”

“Just so you understand, I was not angry that night. It was horrible, true. I was not boiling with rage or anger. I had a job and those kids had nothing to do with that job. I don’t get paid to have morals, you see. I am not an avenging angel to right the wrongs of the world. I get paid to do a job and no where in that job description did it say to rescue abused kids. I was glad that I had gone out alone. I was the only one who knew what had happened to the kids. I was prepared to leave the kids behind that night. I mean that.”

“That’s not right,” Heather said. Her anger rose as she processed my statements.

Welcome to the real world, dear Heather.

“Perhaps,” I said. “But, that is the truth. You can tell me to leave right now, but that doesn’t change how I felt or what I did that night.”
Heather looked at me, burning holes in me with her stare.

“I made my way back to the bush and watched the camp for a time. Eventually a group of four men came out of the barracks and headed to the vehicle park. They were laughing and having a good time and shaking hands. Three of them left and the fourth, dressed in a uniform, went back inside the barracks. Once the vehicle was out of sight, I headed back to my base. It took a good part of the night, but I made it.

“Once in the compound, I made my way to my hut. I didn't see anyone else, which was lucky. I was tired. I went right to sleep, to be honest, I said.

“How could you sleep?” Heather said, full of indignation and disgust.

“Sleep is important. But Joseph came by once he found out I was back. He knocked and I told him to go away and give me a couple of hours to sleep and then we’d talk. I knew I would have to talk to Joseph. And I did not relish lying to him, but no good could come of the truth.”

“What do you mean? No good?” Heather said. She gestured at me as she spoke. I had become the devil to her.

“What could I do? If I reported it to the officials, they would cover it up. Or if a journo found out and made a big story out of it. The locals would turn against the U.N. and the aid groups. Or the U.N. would pull out. All of which would be bad for the situation. Yes, those men deserved to be punished. Absolutely. But I was not going to punish them.

“Joseph came back after lunch. He sat down and I lied to him. I said I had been to the U.N. compound and had not seen any kids. He nodded and said he believed me. But, he told me, Ekobu had been telling everyone in the camp about the missing kids. And now some of the guys were scared that their kids were going to be taken from them. And dark rumors were starting to spread about the missing kids. Joseph said that something had to be done. Because sooner or later the men would simply take it into their own hands. That could get messy.

“I never wanted to tell Joseph the truth. No good could come of it. But I also understood that I had a crisis on my hands. It was just me there, the only white guy. And about sixty or so locals. All of them well-trained and well-armed should they want to start trouble. I had a little private army. They could raise hell in the refugee center or attack the U.N. compound. And they might have done it. After killing me.

“I took Joseph to the U.N. base that night. Luckily, there was no sex that night, but we confirmed the kids were there. Joseph was angry and ready to act then and there, and I knew it had been a mistake. But I also knew that the U.N. was pretty loose and eventually the rumors would get out. And then what, you know. A cover up and denials and whatever else and that would be it.

“Joseph was going to act, I knew that. But I wanted to control it. I wanted to do it the best way possible, to cause as little fuss as possible. But that was impossible. I knew that. I knew I would have to rescue the kids my way.”

“What way?” Heather said.

You’ll see, dear Heather.

“Joseph and I spent the next morning planning the escape. We pulled in Ekobu and another guy name Geoffrey. We hand-picked a small team and we made sure everything was prepared. We’d march through the jungle, surprise the peacekeepers, take the kids and leave. Short and sharp, we’d remedy the situation and be done with it and no one was the wiser. But only because I wanted to get out of there alive. Not because having sex with kids is wrong. Or because because people were abusing them. That happens. It does. I don’t want credit for something I don’t deserve. I went after those kids to save myself, period.”

“I don’t know,” Heather said, a bit despondent. “You still went. You still decided to tell him and to do something about it.” She started chewing her fingernails.

“I did,” I said. “But I am not the good guy here. Not even close.”

Heather looked away and I continued the story.

“We arranged for Geoffrey and a couple of men to drive a truck to the south of the U.N. base. Ekobu and I would secure the base and Joseph would escort the kids to Geoffrey’s truck. Then we’d drive the kids to another refugee center. I agreed to leave a few men there to keep an eye on them for a few days. In the meantime, we’d trek back through the jungle to our compound by morning. Nice and tidy.

“And it went down like that. We made it to the base and the truck was waiting and the kids got out. We took the peacekeepers by surprise and busted the kids out of there. Joseph and Geoffrey got the kids to safety and we kept an eye on them for a time. We diverted some of our supplies to keep them fed. I made sure there was security for the refugee center, which was run by a religious group. Not that it matters, but they were private and separate from the U.N. aid umbrella.”

Heather sat in the dim apartment, still curled up on the sofa. She stared at me, digesting the story as I sat silent.

“Who were they?” she asked.

“The peacekeepers?” I replied.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Pakistanis.”

“What happened to them?’ she asked in a muted tone. “And tell me the truth.”

The truth. What do they say about the truth?

“Okay. I guess you deserve that much,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said, offended by my answer.

“After the kids left, there was me and Ekobu and four other men. We had rounded up the peacekeepers and kept them under guard near the vehicle park. We had disabled the vehicles; slashed tires, pulled batteries, that sort of thing. We smashed their radios and broke the antennae. We had collected the guns and ammunition. We had surprised them when we stormed their barracks building. Most of them were asleep and the ones awake didn’t react.

“There were twelve of them. All sitting under the floodlight, most of them undressed or half dressed. Hands on their heads. Just waiting for something. I stayed out of their line of sight, since it would be pretty obvious who I was. I had painted my face and hands and it was night, but you couldn’t be too careful, right. Ekobu came up to me and asked me what to do with them.

“Unlike Joseph, Ekobu was not as eloquent or studied or mature. He was younger, for sure, and while he was a good soldier, he was also pretty wild. And I knew that. I knew that if I let the peacekeepers go, that Ekobu would come back the next night and attack them. And that would cause more problems.

“The answer was easy. There is always an easy answer. It might not be the best answer, but it was an easy answer. I told Ekobus to kill the peacekeepers and use the machete to do it. We all carried blades and I knew the men I had selected would be happy to chop up some child abductors. I knew that Ekobu would make sure those men suffered for what he thought they did to those kids. I told him to make it quick but to finish the job. I have always wondered what they would have done if they knew the entire story at that time.

“And he did. We did. I don’t excuse myself even though I didn’t touch a single blue hat. But I gave the order and I watched as my men swung and chopped and hacked those peacekeepers. I have seen and done worse and I have never been emotional about it. Killing is part of my job, you see. Ordering twelve men to death, some innocent, perhaps, is no big deal to me. But here, it was a necessity. It had to be done, and not because of justice for the abuse or anything that moral. I had to quench the bloodthirst of my men. Simple as that.”

“What happened?” Heather asked. She had uncurled and drawn her knees up, resting her chin on them as she stared at me.

“The killings were not immediately discovered, but when they were, the U.N. went bananas. They pulled back for a few weeks until the area was pacified. The aid organizations stayed put. The rumor went around that the brave blue hats had attacked by bandits hoping to find diamonds at the old mine site. Something like that. All of the dead peacekeepers were treated as heros. Given medals and a state funeral and such. The U.N. paid out money to the families. It was a big deal for a month or so and then life went on.”

“That’s not fair,” Heather said. “How could they honor those men? Why didn’t the truth get out?”

“It never is fair, you’re right about that. I don’t know what happened to those kids. I don’t know what happened to Joseph or Ekobu or anyone. I left and went to the next job.”

Heather gathered herself into a tight ball for a long moment. She stared at the floor just past the coffee table. The faint street noises filled the room as I sat in silence. It felt good, almost cathartic, to relieve myself of that story. Heather thought too much of me, and this would dampen her enthusiasm for sure. So much for true love.

And they lived happily ever after...

The End.