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A nap thwarted
By Meghan, web editor. 10 March. I volunteered for the
4:00 to 8:00am radio room watch, hoping to have the opportunity
to organize my virtual clutter of digital photos. Was I
crazy? In retrospect, I believe so - we had sustained an
action against the logship Meltemi for two days,
and I, like my friends on the ship, was exhausted.
But no matter - I say this only to set the stage for the
rest of this dismal day.
An uneventful watch; it was Sunday, and we did not expect
the police to appear until Monday at the earliest. So in
the morning after the 7:30 wake-up, the crew set about raising
the new forest sails. After some initial grumblings over
the rigging, the sails flew up to the tops of the masts,
bright and colorful things that will help tell the world
about the plight of ancient forests. I oohed, I aahed, and
then I ran out of breath. Time for a nap. It was 10:00,
so I crawled down to my cabin for some shut-eye. Oh bliss,
I thought. A 45-minute power nap, then I'd get back to the
website...
But so snuggled and lump-like was I in my sleeping bag,
my cabin-mates were not alerted to my presence. In walked
Nikki, just out of the shower, and Lesley, close behind.
The talking started.
'Gumf aba wasssah snaw', I moaned from my bed. Nikki, skillful
interpreter, apologised profusely. Lesley didn't quite get
it and continued to talk.
Okay, nap thwarted. I hopped out of bed and crawled to
the radio room to work on the website.
An inflatable had just left the ship to get some images
of the sails. I updated web pages, corrected earlier mistakes
and made new ones, drank about a gallon of tea (one teaspoon
sugar and a splash of soy milk, in case you're ever inclined
to bring me a cup) and ate continuously to keep myself awake.
The film came back, I updated the website to show off our
beautiful new sails, and it was 1:00.
Okay, quick crew meeting, then a POWER NAP. One hour this
time. My brain salivates just thinking about it. My situation
was becoming dire. I felt like a truck tire that had exploded
and was now in the middle of the highway, being run over
again and again and again. You get my point.
1:55. I'm in my cabin. Lesley, bless her heart, has put
a sign on the door that reads 'ASLEEP.' All I have to do
is close the door and I'll be in la la land. I feel myself
slipping off...
!!! MEGHAN WAKE UP THE POLICE ARE HERE - WAKE UP WAKE UP
THE POLICE ARE HERE GET DRESSED, SORRY 'BOUT THAT !!!
It's Nikki. It's about 2:05. Nap thwarted.
I fall out of bed (top bunk, drat). I can't keep my eyes
open. I know if I just hang in there, the adrenaline will
kick in. I do, and it does. I dress and go to deck.
The deck is a vision of organised mayhem. Everyone has
a role and everyone is working like mad to get the boats
in the water before the police arrive and the pilot boards
the Meltemi. We're pumping air, grabbing radios, working
the tag lines, getting the boats off, smooth, very smooth.
And now Haussy's boat - holy, uh, cow, that's me.
I hop in with Nikki, Haussy at the helm, and we're off.
We're zipping over to the Meltemi, but can barely see it
past the police. There must be 30 or 40 of them - riot gear
and all. We can see them jumping the activists in our inflatables.
They're taking over our boats.
But we're still free. Haussy gets right next to the Meltemi
and scopes out the situation. It looks like a gathering
of Mexican jumping beans - or in this case Spanish jumping
beings. Police are flying through the air - sometimes into
the water, sometimes into our inflatables. I see black-suited
bodies everywhere.
We look for a pilot ladder on the Meltemi. It looks as
though there's a pilot joining the Meltemi from a police
boat. That's a bad sign - that means the Meltemi will be
able to enter the harbour. What can we do? Then there's
a call on the radio. We need to go over to Helen's boat,
which is dead ahead near the Meltemi.
Haussy maneuvers us over. Helen's inflatable has been taken
over by a policeman, and she and Kenneth are trapped. Helen
signals us not to come too close; they look as though they're
okay.
Then it hits me - not an idea, a foot. Kenneth's foot,
to be precise. He has just jumped from his captive boat
into ours, straight into Nikki's lap, whacking me in the
process (it's okay Kenneth, you're the bomb). No harm done.
As I recover from the shock to my noggin, I see Helen making
a valiant leap into the water. Just as a Greenpeace inflatable
comes over to pick her up, a policeman (now where did he
come from?) flies through the air and lands in the boat
that is picking up Helen. As Helen hoists herself aboard,
so does the policeman. It's musical chairs with boats -
absolute madness.
But we're still free, so far. We hail the bridge and are
told to come back to the ship. As we arrive at the Warrior,
Captain Pete is telling the police that the action is over
- we will stop. He is working to calm down the situation.
This is a peaceful protest, and Cap'n Pete ensures that
it stays that way.
Haussy pulls alongside the Warrior and we attach our lines
to the mothership. But a policeboat keeps trying to grab
us, even though we are explaining that we're not about to
go anywhere using Haussy's creative sign language. No Espanol.
We think we're okay. Then, oh drat, here they come. Police
are flying through the air again, this time into our boat.
One is on top of Nikki, I have managed to scoot out of the
way. Tag, we're it.
The next couple of hours are a blur - I'm sleep-deprived,
but am sitting down with warm sun beating on my face. Okay.
Somehow we're transferred to the police boat where our fellow
activists are already sitting. My shipmates are all relaxed
- they know how to handle themselves in these situations
and have won over the policemen by being calm and peaceful,
as usual. The situation isn't too bad, though we're all
discouraged about losing the Meltemi.
We spend a good hour or two in the police boat, eleven
of us. I have no idea where we're going - and I'm not sure
the police do, either. At one point we meet up with a bunch
of other boats - it takes me a minute to process ('nap nap
nap' reverberating in my head), and then I realise those
boats are our Greenpeace inflatables! And they're being
driven by police who are clearly having the time of their
lives... Eiy.
The situation becomes even more amusing when we finally
head into port. People are standing along the pier, clapping
and cheering as the boats arrive. But they can't really
see us sitting low in the police boat - they see the Greenpeace
inflatables coming in, driven by rather gleeful looking
police who clearly enjoy the attention. Eiy again.
But now we're along the docks, the inflatables are all
near each other, and we're trying to communicate with our
police escorts in Spanish. 'Paella' I say, giving them what
I hope is a winsome smile. (I have long thought I should
learn Spanish, being presently limited to a key but limited
vocabulary: paella, cervesa, si and gracias.)
Fortunately Helen is a bit more fluent. She interprets
a communication from one of the officers: "They're
going to let us go back to the Rainbow Warrior in about
ten minutes with our boats." We're astonished, but
it's true. "Friends," says one of the policemen.
Then, "Next time, please learn a little Spanish."
Fair enough.
It feels like days later, but it's only 4:30 in the afternoon,
and we're on our way back to the mothership. As this point,
I have to give up - we have three activists still aboard
the Meltemi, all dying, I'm sure, to provide updates for
the website. I have photos to upload, press releases to
read, updates to write, and a shower to enjoy.
Nap thwarted.
Meghan
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