Colin Freeman was born in Edinburgh in 1969 and has spent most of his working life as a journalist. He started his career on the Grimsby Evening Telegraph, before moving to the London Evening Standard and eventually trying his luck as a freelance correspondent in Baghdad after the fall of Saddam Hussein. From 200616, he was chief foreign correspondent of The Sunday Telegraph. He is the author of two previous books: Kidnapped, Life as a Somali Pirate Hostage, and The Curse of the Al-Dulaimi Hotel and other half-truths from Baghdad. He lives in London with his family.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
John Steed: ex-British military attach to Kenya and counter-piracy advisor to the United Nations. Leads the mission to free the Albedo, the Prantalay 12 and the Naham 3
Aman Kumar: nineteen-year-old Indian sailor on his maiden voyage aboard the Albedo
Captain Jawaid Khan: the Albedos Pakistani captain
Shahriar Aliabadi: the Albedos Iranian bosun
Omid Khosrojerdi: the boss of Majestic Enrich Shipping and owner of the Albedo. Based in Malaysia
Shahnaz Khan: Captain Jawaid Khans wife
Mishal and Nareman Jawaid: Captain Jawaid Khans daughters
Leslie Edwards: an expert hostage negotiator who works alongside John Steed
Richard Neylon and James Gosling: London lawyers specialising in piracy cases, who work alongside John Steed
Ali Jabeen: translator and negotiator for the pirate gang that hijacks the Albedo
Ali Inke: chief guard for the pirate gang that hijacks the Albedo
xiv Awale: pirate negotiator who acts as go-between during talks between John Steed and the Albedo pirates
Rajoo Rajbhar: the other Indian sailor aboard the Albedo, later executed
Arro: female pirate, khat dealer and later investor in the Albedo hijacking
Omar Sheikh Ali: contact of John Steeds in Galkayo
Channarong Navara: the captain of the Prantalay 12
Arnel Balbero: Filipino sailor on the Naham 3
Said Osman: a Somali intermediary who helps Edwards in talks with pirates holding the Naham 3
Not their real names.
Not his real name.
18 April 2010: the Prantalay12 is hijacked
26 Nov 2010: the Albedo is hijacked
26 Mar 2012: the Naham 3 is hijacked
Any journalist seeking to find a publisher these days is usually asked: What makes you uniquely qualified to write this book? Its a question most writers hate, as in truth, few of us have a monopoly on competence in any particular field. For this book, though, I do for once have a fairly good answer. I was once kidnapped by Somali pirates myself, so I have some idea of what its like.
In 2008, while reporting on the piracy crisis for The Sunday Telegraph in northern Somalia, I was abducted along with my photographer colleague and held prisoner in a remote mountain cave. We lived off goat meat, rice and Rothman cigarettes, and passed the time with a chess set made from cigarette foil. Several times, our captors threatened to kill us, and at one point, they had a gunfight in the cave with a rival clan.
Thankfully, we were released unharmed just six weeks later, but as an exercise in field research for this particular book, it was a reasonable primer. In the years afterwards, it also meant I became The Sunday Telegraphs unofficial piracy correspondent, keeping a close eye on the mayhem off Somalias coastline. It was during that time that I noticed that while most ships were being ransomed out, three seemed to be languishing indefinitely. The rescue of the sailors on those ships the Albedo, the Prantalay 12 and the Naham 3 is the subject of this book.
Much of this book is based on interviews with the sailors themselves, some of whom would not have talked to me xix had I not been through a similar experience. Let me stress, though, that in their company, I felt like small fry. Six weeks in captivity, after all, is a blink of an eye compared to the years of incarceration that they endured. My captors never physically harmed me, whereas they suffered regular beatings and torture, as well as seeing many of their companions die. Nor, for most of that awful time, did they have any reason to think it would ever end. Some have suffered lasting trauma. Given what they went through, I am surprised its not more.
In return for their speaking to me, Ive aimed to tell their story as best I can, although I wouldnt claim it to be perfect. This isnt a case of false writerly modesty. In retelling a trauma lasting four years or more, many of the sailors found dates and times hard to remember clearly, and sometimes events themselves. At times, accounts from one sailor tallied only vaguely with those from another.
Most of the sailors also spoke through interpreters which, no matter how good the translation, often impacts how vividly they tell their stories. Sadly, thats also one of the reasons why these particular sailors were ignored by the world in the first place. When it comes to attracting international media attention, being non-Western and non-English speaking is still a major handicap.
Sailors and fishermen are also generally robust individuals, not overly given to soul-baring or introspection. Often, when I asked how they coped in the darkest of times, their answer was that they prayed hard, thought of their families, and told themselves to tough it out. For some, that seemed literally all they had to say on the subject at least to me anyway. What I have tried to do, though, is convey at least the basics of their ordeals which, in most cases, is quite horrifying enough.
xxi Gathering the story from the viewpoint of their rescuers was rather easier. John Steed, together with negotiator Leslie Edwards and lawyers Richard Neylon and James Gosling, were all generous to me with their time, although once again, the precise details of a mission that ended up lasting more than three years had occasionally blurred. As a result of his own brush with death at the outset of his mission more of which later Steed finds his memory sometimes lets him down. Fortunately, he has emails and files which act as a back-up.
I also imposed limits of my own in writing this book. Some of the accounts of torture and mistreatment I have left out, as to relay them all would have felt both gratuitous and repetitive. Readers may also notice that I recount the hijacking and cruelty that took place on the Albedo in more detail than on the other two ships. Again, this is not to underplay what went on the Prantalay 12 and Naham 3, but simply to avoid repetition. In amid the horrors, there are also acts of extraordinary courage and decency by the Britons and Somalis involved in the rescue effort, and by the sailors too. I like to think that this is a story about humanity at its best, not just its worst.