No one really thinks about the way goods arrive on supermarket shelves. We simply walk into a store, buy toothpaste or a tin of tuna, and even feel slightly irritated when our favourite cereal is out of stock.
Rarely do we think that 99.3 per cent of all goods in the UAE arrive by sea, delivered by container ships to the world’s second largest bunker anchorage: the Port of Fujairah. At any given time, there are hundreds of ships anchored up to 30km offshore, crewed by seafarers from as far as Indonesia, Russia or Sri Lanka. These many thousands of sailors live aboard their vessels, isolated from the outside world and unable to come ashore for many months due to the expense.
Inevitably, being marooned out at sea leads to unimaginable boredom and loneliness, but thanks to the visits of the Flying Angel, a 27m purpose-built vessel owned by maritime charity Mission To Seafarers, stranded sailors have some form of contact with the outside world. Along with a shop selling creature comforts, there’s an on-board library, DVDs, internet and satellite telephones so seafarers can call their loved ones.
The visits help to break the daily monotony of life at sea, and Anglican priest, the Rev Stephen Miller, is usually on hand to offer much-needed counselling. It can be difficult to imagine the utter isolation of a seafaring life but, with only the open, lonely horizon for perspective and the eerie sound of water lapping at the sides of the ship, it’s not surprising the term ‘going round the bend’ has its roots in nautical lingo.
Depression among these seafarers is all too common, says Angel representative Alexi Trenouth. ‘In February, one seafarer killed himself,’ she recalls. ‘He was promised shore leave but he couldn’t leave the ship because there wasn’t a replacement. Father Stephen had to go on the boat and bless it because the other seafarers didn’t want to go near that area.’ It’s a distressing story, and it’s not the only one. Often, says Angel bosun Michael Joseph, seafarers will discover a pair of flip-flops on the deck – and one crewmate missing.
So, the Flying Angel is an invaluable source of normality to keep shipmates’ spirits high. This is evident as we pull up alongside the first ship for the day. Seafarers scramble across and crowd inside the shop, queuing to buy everything from cigarettes and memory sticks to aftershave and even small, rather kitsch-looking statues of the Burj al Arab. ‘These sell like hot cakes,’ laughs Alexi. ‘It’s the closest these seafarers are going to get to feeling as though they’ve actually been to shore.’
A volunteer pulls out a bag of second-hand clothes, which prove to be a hit. After rummaging through the bag, one young seafarer pulls out a checkered shirt, holds it against his chest, and looks shyly around at his crew for approval. His name is Rajesh, and he’s a 32-year-old newlywed from Kerala.
He’s been on board for four months, and says he’s missing India and his new bride terribly. But then he flashes a bright smile and tells us he only has another two months to go before shore leave. Other seafarers, like Burmese captain Myat Soe, have children at home, too. ‘I really miss my family,’ he says. ‘It can be very hard to be away this long.’
Interestingly, some are fairly tech-savvy and buy USB memory sticks to download emails and photographs of their family. Others even have televisions. When we pull up alongside a weathered old tug guarding a barge filled with quarry materials, the crew invites us on board and into their common area, where a large television is screening a sports match. ‘Do you ever argue over which channel to watch?’ I ask jokingly, and Indonesian chief officer Sukartono roars with laughter. ‘No, we’re all friends here,’ he says, throwing his arm around the shoulders of a Filipino crewmate.
Eagerly guiding us around their ‘home’ we’re shown tiny cabins fitted with bunk beds below deck, and the galley (kitchen), where a grinning Indonesian chef named Mellone, proudly shows off some chicken he’s cooked for his crew.
This tug might have fairly decent living quarters, but Alexi says other ships belong to countries with less humane maritime laws. It’s anyone’s guess just how many seafarers could be crammed into one tiny, overcrowded cabin.
The Flying Angel is the only vessel of its kind in the world, and the enormous task of visiting so many ships can seem overwhelming, but even the smallest donation can help ease the burden and make a difference. After all, if it weren’t for these seafarers, you wouldn’t have your favourite cereal. Just think about that.
www.angelappeal.com; 050 456 1130; enquiries@angelappeal.com.
