COFFEE AND NUTS

I know that it took place in 1977! How do I know? Is it because my failing memory is still a bit reliable? Nope…! It is thanks to the internet…..simply because I searched for the associated words SEABOARD and UGANDA and I was directed to a copy of the Register Guard newspaper of Eugene (Oregon) dating back to April 30th 1977 reporting a union to management conflict between Robert NEFF who was ( I believe) VP Legal and the SWA Pilot’s union who wanted in these days to bar the company from operating 53 DC8 Flights between Entebbe ( Uganda) and Djibouti ( French Territories of the Affars and the Issas) to lift 3500 Tons of coffee beans produced in the country run in these days by a ruthless dictator by the name of Idi Amin DADA.

(The hottest airport on earth : Jibouti in the horn of Africa. My home during the operation in 1977)

In 1977, Coffee was already the second most traded commodity and was mainly traded through the New York Board of Trade, the Kansai Commodities Exchange in Osaka, the Singapore Commodities Exchange and Euronext in London. 1977 had been one of the three record years in term of pricing, due to a very high demand and a reduced offer. For business people, it was time to make money and a London firm specialized in trading coffee beans had put a charter offer to various cargo airlines. Seaboard World Airlines had won the bid and assigned two crews and a DC 8 to run this 45 days operation. The plan was simple. At least one flight a day, ferry leg from Djibouti Ambouli ((HDAM) to Entebbe (HUEN) with a return flight fully loaded to maximum take-off weight.

In these days, the history of DJIBOUTI under French rule was about to come to an end. Created in 1967 under the government of President Charles-de-Gaulle, formerly known as the French Coast of the Somalis ( French Somaliland) the area between Ethiopia, and Somali changed name to become the French Territory of the Affar and the Issa, two local tribes who could not get along. French presence in the Horn of Africa goes back to the first half of the 19th century. With temperatures sky rocketing to the high 40°C as early as spring, Djibouti is known to be the hottest spot on the earth. A derelict town, a small airport mainly used for flights to and from Paris, Madagascar and Addis-Ababa, Djibouti was not an easy place to be , a few months before it was due to become independent. Civil unrest was already taking place and the railroad linking Djibouti and the Ethiopian capital was regularly sabotaged by separatist movements.

Finding volunteers was probably not easy. European personnel, possibly closer to African culture was offered the possibility of taking the assignment. I Was the Frenchman going onto a French territory. I ended up leaving my apartment of 3, Villa Moderne, in Paris 14th district, kissing goodbye to my wife and I ended up in Djibouti while my German colleagues found their way to the infamous kingdom of the last “King of Scotland” (*) Charter mechanics would rotate during the operation, one in Djibouti, one in Entebbe.

Heading the flight program was Roy “Rocky” Borough, a seasoned captain, good to airplanes and human beings alike. The French Territory of the Afar and the Issas was French and French was the national language spoken, of course with various accents. The military forces used both the Djibouti harbour and air base for operation and this gave a feeling of security. The city of DJIBOUTI looked to me like just out of the Aladdin’s fairy tales excepted that there was no magic light to get help from, and my wishes never got granted easily by the genius with the lamp …!

I came in first to arrange for hotel accommodation ( HOTAC is one of the MOST important word to be remembered in the life and vocabulary of a wondering loadmaster) and then started one of the most difficult missions of my entire 43 years with the industry. Like most of the flight crews in the industry, our men were rather use to the standards of the Hilton chain, rather than those of an East African country on the verge of revolution.

( A "boutre", a local kind of a boat made of wood and used for centuries in the area)

Suddenly, I felt like famous French 19th century author Henry de Monfreid , navigator, explorer of the Horn of Africa, trader in skins and coffee, adventurer and overall smuggler …where would he have stayed to escape the colonial authorities ?

In 1977, the only two hotels available to the general public were the “Hotel Plein Ciel” used by Air France for crew resting their personnel and the Hotel de France, a half ruined building which had seen better days, was known for its large collection of spiders and cockroaches, its poor sense of hospitality, a place where no one would ever think of spending a night. We set up our headquarters there and the first thing I did was to call our head office in JFK.

The call finally came through : “This is Sylvain calling from French Somaliland …Please connect me to Offline Operation…” On the other end of the line came Franck Sturt a “ defector” living in the United States managing our charter programs. “Have you found a place to stay” he asked ? “No, it is not a place, it is a dump” came my answer…

The first night was spent in the heat. There was no air conditioning. Cockroaches were just on time, some of them big as a matchbox and pretty soon one could hear swearing and cursing on the floor where we had set up our office and lodging. Eating would be outside of the Hotel, not far from it. IN the centre of the town, a couple of restaurants operated by French citizen would serve decent food and above all decent beer, appreciated by both the French sailors and the French airmen. This place, a legend amongst legends was called “Le Palmier en Zinc” ! ( The Zinc Palm Tree, still there I Believed as it survived the independence of the country now called Republic of Djibouti). The Hotel de France was indeed a dump.

(Hotel de France in Djibouti : our first base there...)

(The "Palmier en Zinc "Zinc Palm Tree", a famous meeting place for expatriates before the independance)

(Twin Otter De Havilland flown by Air Djibouti. The pilots were French, it was still a "French Territory)

Our crews were certainly worth a better accommodation and I decided to go and explore the possibility of lodging at the Plein Ciel Hotel, along with the Air France crews…but in these days my talents at conducting human relationships or negotiating with people were certainly worse than they are today…I Walked in the Hotel in an arrogant fashion, flashing rolls of dollars, asking to rent a complete floor for five weeks…and got simply kicked out, a well-deserved humiliating lesson which taught me humility for ever. For now, it was Hotel de France or nothing…

Operation started…

With a maximum take-off weight of 355.000 lbs, our plane could carry 224 Cubic meters of cargo on each trip and about 41 tons of cargo …..In theory! But several factors impacted the operation: -The heat, precluding optimization of the weight of each ULD -The density of each pallet of coffee as we had airplane structural limits to keep in perspective: -The availability of the coffee loads in Entebbe, depending on the transportation of coffee from the plantation to the airport -The availability of personnel to “load and stack” coffee bags on airplane pallets, net them up, and load them in the airplane. Hot temperature affecting the take-off performance of airplanes, it was decided that flight schedule would try to stick to an optimistic planning calling for : ETD HDAM : 1500 GMT ETA HUEN : 1945 GMT ETD HUEN : 2200 GMT ETA HDAM : 0330 GMT Such a schedule would allow our crew members to have a decent rest in Djibouti, enough time for a stroll in the airport when in transit in Entebbe, and an optimized take-off weight out of Uganda in the middle of the night, while crocodiles and Idi Amin’s henchmen would be asleep.

(DC-3 Aiplane , same as the one flying "Kat" from Addis-Abbaba to Jibouti. Ethiopian crews wore white shirts and dark green pants)

(Mad-Air B 707 with French registration. The plane would refuel in Djibouti on its way to Madagascar)

Crews members had not been assigned to this operation, they had volunteered for it. Shortly before the operation came to life, a legal disputed had opposed SWA’s pilots to the company. The affair had been settled on the basis that flight crews would not be forced into accepting a temporary assignment. I had ended up with “ a wild bunch” eager to learn and see something different from the New Jersey landscape or the Californian beaches. It was an exciting operation second to none, as well as an ego booster for a young, still unseasoned, Frenchman working for a reputable US carrier.

Our handling agent , Air Djibouti, small French run operation flew local missions connecting various points of the TFAI . Young pilots building up flight hours on “Twin Otters”, they were a noisy troop but pleasant to spend time with. An office was found for me on the ramp side in the terminal. A few old pieces of furniture and a telephone, and that were it. What else did I need ? Pretty soon, my office was stacked with all kind of products supplied by the commissary office. Ranging from cigarettes to cases of beer, dry supplies, sweets and all kind of goodies, it was there for “ time off” .

(Station building of the Franco-Ethiopian railroad linking Djibouti to Addis-Ababa inaugurated on May 9th 1917)

(A SWA DC8 similar to the one used during the operation. I believe our tail number was N 639SW. The airplane was turned over to Saudia in June of 1977,right after our mission was over)

In 1977, smart phones did not exist…..nor mobile phones, and for communications, SWA was using the RSFTA network. Rather safe than sorry, the standard procedure was to have Uganda Airlines send a departure message after wheels were up in Entebbe, and to have the fight crew contact our head office in JFK Using the on board HF equipment via BERNA radio , a radio station operating from the BERNA area in Switzerland, with which we had a service contract. JFK would in turn confirm to Air Djibouti that the plane was on its way back to the Horn of Africa. African nights are something out of this world. Seeing so many stars over my head was somehow a frightful vision and at the same time gave me the most beautiful feeling of satisfaction. Nights were hot and my pleasure was to position myself not far from the runway, looking in the direction from which the airplane was due to arrive , and wait until I could see, still miles away, the landing lights illuminating the sky.

(The French Foreign Legion: some of them were based in Djibouti, all foreigners of course...)

Touchdown, gentle braking action combined with the reversers , and N 639 SW was parked and the cargo door open. Pallets were not stacked up very high : the cargo was too dense. Handlers would help offload pallets by transferring the coffee bags into trucks. It was a taxing activity and to this day, I remember seeing sweat simply dropping from their bodies. Dressed in a short, or for some in the local “ futa”, the equivalent to the Indonesian “Sarong”, these guys had it really hard and of course for each operation around our airplane, I would always have plenty of water and a few “Francs Djibout’” (*) to complement their meagre income.

(Approaching Kampala and Entebbe Airport)

Coffee bags would then be brought to Djibouti harbour and loaded on a cargo ship sailing towards Europe. While the commercial transactions were conducted by our charterer in London, the price of coffee would change up or down, and once the best possible price was reached by the coffee traders, the ship was routed to its final destination. This is how business was done, and why I was spending time in East Africa, in a small territory , dry as a bone, whose only production was salt, salt, and salt .

The Air France crews flying the Paris to Djibouti run had a 48 Hours crew rest. Enough time to catch a “ boutre” , the traditional Arab hand built wooden boat and be dropped for the day on the Island of Moucha , not far from Djibouti, to lay on the beach, drink French wine, and do a lot of other things which were better done in the seclusion of an Island where swimming in the nude was just the beginning of a pleasurable day of rest. Time off was scarce and swimming on the Djibouti coast was a dangerous experience: the national sport in these days was to throw empty beer bottles as far as possible so that they would explode when hitting the rocks. As a result, swimmers ended up with horrible foot cuts and would be directed to the closets first aid station manned in these days by the French Foreign Legion based there.

(Welcome to Entebbe ? Still not so sure...)

Legionnaires were a curious and interesting bunch of people. They came from every single part of the world, with every possible accent and were never hesitant to drink a 13th or 14th beer shortly after their breakfast was over.

The heat on armoured vehicles at the Legion Etrangère post was such that on several occasions, I was offered by former Wermacht “Panzerfunker” Willi Eichenbach, who had survived WWII, to cook my own eggs on the bonnet of a military vehicle using a spoon of cooking oil and breaking the eggs directly on the metal.

The Foreign Legion’s principal mission at that time was to separate the Affars from the Issas when civil unrest started by one or the other would take place, which was in fact a daily ordeal excepted during the early afternoon, when it was time for a pleasant nap between 1 and 4 pm .

Djibouti would then sleep …

(A young Affar girl in traditional gear)

(Girls of Djibouti: times have changed...)

Right after the airplane was offload, a great pleasure waited for me on a daily basis : the arrival in Djibouti airport of the “Khat Airplane”.

Khat is a plant classified by the World Health Organization as a drug. . It contains a monoamine alkaloid called cathinone, an amphetamine-like stimulant, which is said to cause excitement, loss of appetite and euphoria. It can also produce mild-to-moderate psychological dependence (less than tobacco or alcohol) and although not really addictive the plant has been targeted by anti-drug organizations such as the DEA. It is a controlled substance in some countries, such as Canada, or Germany but it is used and has been used in many African countries as a part of daily life and long cultural traditions. My Djiboutian handlers at the airport use to chew on that plant, like most of the workers of the harbour. It was a substitute for food which , beside fish, was not so much available . There was an important demand for Khat in the TFAI and the closest country producing that plant was Ethiopia.

As a result, every morning between six and seven , an old Ethiopian Airlines DC3 would land and park besides our DC8-63. The cargo door would open handlers would start offloading the Khat bulk loaded and spread over the aircraft floor, while the two pilots, dark green pants and spotless white short-sleeve shirts, would pass by me, smiling, on their way to the morning coffee at the terminal while their plane was being offloaded.(DC3 were retired from service at Ethiopian Airlines in 1987 !) The Hotel de France accommodation was giving me trouble. Crews became irritable as the heat was getting more and more difficult to cope with, so I decided to swallow my pride and tip-toed back at the Hotel Plein Ciel.

(Idi Amin Dada, a ruthless dictator, a narcissistic pervert)

Obviously, I did the right thing, used the right words, and probably showed some authenticity as I managed to get the rooms I needed, and be fully accepted by the French Couple running the hotel.

Hotel de France was now just an unpleasant memory. A new future was open to us at the Plein Ciel: swimming pool, French food and cool beer…just what was needed, and all of it a few meters away from the centre of Town Place Manlike, were the “Palmier en Zinc” restaurant was located.

Things were under control, we were halfway through our program when things changed in the most abrupt fashion. As usual, I showed up at the airport, ready to conduct the morning operation, and as usual I watched the landing light getting closer and closer until touch-down. The airplane parked, the engines shut down, and even before the crew stairs were brought to the airplane, the captain opened his window and said: “ Don’t bring the equipment; the plane is empty, no load ! There was no one at the airport in Entebbe” I quickly climbed on board to learn more. “We waited, waited and waited…no one came, no one was able to give us any kind of information, so we just fuelled up and go “ We returned to the hotel and decided to call the company…and waited for more information.

A strike may be ? or was it something else, something unexpected having to do with the specificities of Uganda under the rule of Field Marshal Idi Amin DADA , a ruthless dictator, surrounded by Nuts that he had appointed into key positions, most of them being totally illiterate …?

(Inside a cargo plane...)

“Field Marshal President for life Idi Amin Dada” was the third President of Uganda, ruling from 1971 to 1979. Amin joined the British colonial regiment, the King's African Rifles, in 1946, serving in Kenya and Uganda. Eventually, Amin held the rank of major general in the post-colonial Ugandan Army, and became its commander before seizing power in the military coup of January 1971, deposing Milton Obote. He later promoted himself to field marshal while he was the head of state.

Amin's rule was characterized by human rights abuses, political repression, ethnic persecution, extrajudicial killings, nepotism, corruption, and gross economic mismanagement. The number of people killed as a result of his regime is estimated by international observers and human rights groups to range from 100,000 to 500,000.

During his years in power, Amin shifted in allegiance from being a pro-Western ruler enjoying considerable Israeli support to being backed by Libya's Muammar Gaddafi, Zaire's Mobutu Sese Seko, the Soviet Union, and East Germany. In 1975, Amin became the chairman of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), a Pan-Africanist group designed to promote solidarity of the African states. During the 1977–1979 period, Uganda was a member of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights. In 1977, when Britain broke diplomatic relations with Uganda, Amin declared he had defeated the British and added "CBE", for "Conqueror of the British Empire", to his title. Radio Uganda then announced his entire title: "his Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Alhaji Dr. Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, CBE".

Dissent within Uganda and Amin's attempt to annex the Kagera province of Tanzania in 1978, led to the Uganda–Tanzania War and the demise of his eight-year regime, leading Amin to flee into exile to Libya and then Saudi Arabia, where he lived until his death on 16 August 2003.

In 1977 indeed, Uganda was plagued by corruption and whatever money was still available was privately used to quench the thirst for luxury of Idi Amin and his criminal accomplices The most famous example was the so-called "whiskey run" to Stansted Airport in Britain, where planeloads of Scotch whiskey, transistor radios, and luxury items were purchased for Amin to distribute among his officers and troops. An African proverb, it was said, summed up Amin's treatment of his army: "A dog with a bone in its mouth can't bite." It says it all, but could not explain why our plane had returned empty from Entebbe.

(Djibouti, a forgotten place in the Horn of Africa)

We did not fly for 48 Hours and enjoy the rest but all of us were worried without knowing exactly why.

Our German personnel assigned to the Uganda side of the operation had been thoroughly briefed on what to do and what not to do in a country run by Nuts. I could not see any of them having violated a law or committed a crime of any kind…Why couldn’t we get in touch with Detlev S. at his Lake Victoria Hotel ? Why couldn’t we get in touch with Uganda Airline, the flag carrier ? What the hell was going on ?

We got the answer through the company who had been in touch with the German Consulate in Entebbe. The Consul General and some of his security personnel in charge of protecting the Embassy , had done some investigation and traced our personnel back to a local jail.

No explanation were ever provided by Uganda so called Security Services and many scenario could in fact have triggered a chain of events leading to our staff in Uganda being thrown in jail. As in these days , the Federal Republic of Germany supported Uganda’s economy, it was not too difficult to obtain the liberation of our colleagues. But one question remained : should we and could we continue ?

Being jailed in Uganda, even for 48 Hours, had been a traumatic experience for the staff. Ethnic purge were in full swing across the country and whom ever did not belong to the same tribe as Idi belonged to, the Kakwas, had to be worried. Mass murders on political opponents and Christians alike were a daily reality.

And there was also the permanent presence around Idi the Nutcase of Major Bob Astles, in real life Robert Asketill, a British national, a “defector” well known to all and against whom some of us had been warned.

Was he a part of the story ? Had this affair any connection with the operation of Uganda Airline, for not having been chosen to carry this Coffee bean program ? Had he been “infected” by a local virus ?

Bob Astles was born in Ashford, Kent. He joined the British Indian Army as a teenager and then the Royal Engineers, reaching the rank of Lieutenant. Of his war service, he recalled: "I enjoyed being with other nationalities and their fights for world recognition during World War II. He was 21 when he left the United Kingdom for Africa.

In 1949, Astles was sent on special duties during the Bataka uprising in Buganda. His first job in Uganda was as a colonial officer with the Ministry of Works, then with £100 he set up Uganda Aviation Services Ltd, the first airline in Uganda to employ Africans. As Uganda's independence approached in 1962, Astles became involved with a number of political groups. One of these was led by Milton Obote, who led the country to independence. Astles worked in his government until the 1971 coup d'état, when he transferred his allegiance to Amin.

In December, suspicion fell on Astles because of his previous support for Obote. Amin sent him to Makindye Prison where he spent 17 weeks, often shackled and brutally interrogated. Astles later said, "Amin called me a 'rotten apple' on the radio, and nationalised my airline. It was ordinary Africans who helped me to survive. One guard was kicked to death for helping me.

In 1975, Astles joined Amin's service, becoming the head of the anti-corruption squad and advising the president on British affairs, while running a pineapple farm. He also presided over an aviation service that transported members of the government. Astles later said "I kept my eyes shut, I said nothing about what I saw, which is what they liked". What Astles did or did not do during Amin's reign is a matter of conjecture. Some considered him to be a malignant influence on the dictator; others thought he was a moderating presence. He came to be known as "Major" Bob (the title of Major was given to him by Amin) or "the White Rat".

(BA 188 , the French Air Base in Djibouti...we live there during the independence elections. Whisky was good. We had each a "Private, First Class" to attend to our needs)

Following the Uganda-Tanzania War which led to the demise of Amin's regime in 1979, Astles fled to Kenya, but was brought back to Uganda to face criminal charges. At the time Kenyan newspapers linked the charges to the death of Bruce Makenzie, one of Kenya's former ministers in an aircraft explosion, though it was suspected that the bomb was meant for Astles who had refused to fly on the aircraft. He was imprisoned for his alleged association with Amin's security apparatus, and was charged with everything from murder and corruption to theft. Though acquitted, he remained in Luzira Prison for six and a half years, returning to Britain after his release in 1985.

In 1958, he married Monica, who had come to Uganda with him from Kent. A year later, after they had divorced, Astles married an aristocratic member of the Buganda kingdom, Mary Senkatuka, and they later adopted two children.

Astles later lived in Wimbledon, London, and continued to deny the allegations for which he was imprisoned. After returning to Britain, he dedicated his life to campaigning against superpower interference in African political and economic affairs. He also contributed political commentaries to a number of publications associated with Africa. He died in December 2012 at the age of 88. The obituary in The Telegraph described him as "the most hated white man in postcolonial Africa.

The German team had guts ! We knew what they had witnessed while in jail, and we knew that it would be hard to forget. Decision to continue or stop was up to them and with classical German discipline and organization, the decision was made to continue and the DC8-63 got ready to fly again to finish its mission .

On the DJIBOUTI Side, things were also getting a bit difficult. The Franco-Ethiopian railroad was now the target of sabotage , Affars and Issas were regularly demonstrating in favour of the independence and the Foreign Legion, short of opening fire, had more and more difficulties in keeping people calm . The French government sped up independence negotiations following a UN decision taken in 1975 and the Loyada Crisis of 1976, when a school bus was taken hostage by separatists. The Plein Ciel Hotel nicely but firmly kicked us out as they needed the rooms for members of the French delegation on its way to conduct talks with Djibouti “future” authorities.

We had not place to stay and quite a few more flights to operate. Airmen of all kinds , regardless of nationality or creed, share an important quality: solidarity !

Being a French national, it was not too difficult for me to go and beg for accommodation at the French air base close to the airport. I was looking for soldier accommodation, they gave us VIP Bungalows, each with a dedicated 2nd class Private, free access to the officer’s mess, the commissary, the swimming pool ! This was the first and only time feeling that my tax money was really used correctly ! The last 17 flights were conducted without further incident, then came to time to get ready to fly home. It was time to says goodbye to The Horn of Africa, to the Palmier en Zinc, to the Air Force personnel…Colonel G. Had been very nice with us, so I arranged for a case of Single Malt to be dropped at his quarters along with a French expensing perfume for his wide AND His daughter who had been extremely kind to me.

A last look at my office at the airport, collecting and loading the left over goodies supplied by the Djibouti airport kitchen and commissary service, a quick shake hand with the Air Djibouti personnel, and we were ready to go.

I knew that the airplane was going to be transferred to another airline in a few days after we would reach Frankfurt, the end of the adventure. I went to the airport engineer shack, picked up a spray can of a dark brown, just like the colour of the coffee bean we had carried during 45 days, and started working on a nice aeronautical art piece on the fuselage of N 639 SW

When we finally reach Frankfurt after 10 Hours of flight including a fuel stop, passengers watching airplanes being parked could read on ours : FUCK YOU, IDI AMIN!

(*) Franc Djibout’ = Francs Djibouti : a Specific currency put in place by France in several former colonial territories . Franc Pacifique is used in French Polynesia and France CFA is used in various African Countries with former ties to France.