Tag: line up

Hidden Connections

On By Allan GrantIn faith, life, travel11 Comments
MV Logos at night in Sydney, Australia Aug 24 – Sep 10, 1979

In a number of posts I relate stories from years worked in ‘line up’ for the ship MV Logos. The job involved various assignments around the world – see line up if you wish to know more about what representing the ship and preparing visits to ports involved.

My initial experience in this role was during May and June of 1979. This had been mainly on my own in the townships of Kota Kinabalu and Sandakan in Sabah, East Malaysia as well as the tiny nation of Brunei. Learning on the job. My next line up assignment was to be in Sydney, Australia – a big cosmopolitan city of 3 million. This would be different. Everything on a larger scale. Permissions and negotiations with many more officials as well as publicity to civic groups and about a thousand churches. I was to be teamed up with a mentor in the form of an experienced line up man Stan. 

Getting to Sydney was not so straightforward. I needed a visa for my 2-3 months stay. Logos was owned and operated by an international Christian charity so was also looking for the cheapest way to travel. To facilitate this I sailed with the Logos from Sandakan. We went across a beautiful Celebes Sea in lovely weather to the port of General Santos. This was on the island of Mindanao in the southern Philippines, an island sadly riven by conflict even to this day. After 2 days there I went by car to the regional capital Davao city and stayed a night at the guesthouse of a sister Christian organisation OMF. The next day I flew to the country’s capital, Manila. My host there was a Chinese Filippino and his large, extended family. They gave generously of their time and resources to help me. In the capital I could obtain a visa for Australia from its embassy and also get a crew discount for an air ticket to Brisbane. There were several fraught trips back and forth to the embassy and our shipping agent. I eventually got cleared with a visa and ticket 7pm the evening before my flight next morning at 8am. However due to a mistake made by the shipping agent when leaving ship in General Santos I was also in trouble with Philippine immigration. This meant I was escorted to Manila airport for my flight. 

To complicate matters further the crew discount obtained meant I would travel via Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea. This made for a very tight transit time to catch the ongoing Qantas flight. The flight from Manila was behind schedule and my possibly unrealistic transfer time was reduced further to what seemed impossible to achieve. I had all but given up of making the connection with the plane to Australia. In those days airports, aircraft and aircrew were not so bound by security and other regulations. Becoming aware of my plight the crews of the 2 planes involved took initiative. My plane landed in Port Moresby and I was bustled down the plane’s stairs to choose and grab my large suitcase from a trolley on the tarmac. I then rushed across with my luggage to the 747 waiting just for me and ready to taxi. It was a bit embarrassing lugging my stuff up the steps into the cabin. My short diary entry for the day puts it more graphically ‘I was thrown onto the 747’. Any shame at holding people up was dispelled by the ‘can do’ encouragement of the Aussie crew and my perceived good will of the passengers patiently waiting. I was only on the ground 15 minutes! No customs, no immigration and no transit through an airport terminal. I had made the connection by ‘walking’ from one plane to the next. Such would not happen in today’s world! 

My embarrassment with my fellow Qantas passengers was not over though. On arrival in Brisbane the airport officials learned my travel had originated in Manila. Apparently I was at risk of bringing in a horse borne disease. “Could I take my shoes and socks off to be fumigated?” So it was that a bare footed Scotsman arrived ‘down under’ – mingling in the arrivals queue with his more sophisticated fellow passengers. 

In Brisbane I spent four nights in 4 different homes. Again the recipient of freely given hospitality. From there it was on to Sydney where I settled down to work with the aforementioned Stan. We divided responsibilities and I was given the recruitment of volunteers, training programmes, publicity and on board and off shore meetings for when the ship was in port. He was from Liverpool and about 28 years older so there was a generation difference. Before serving on the Logos Stan already had a successful career as a chief electrician in the merchant navy. He had worked on some of the most famous luxury liners of the day including the QE2. Afterwards he had lived onshore for a time before sensing a call to serve with MV Logos in his fifties. He continued with Logos and her sister ship Doulos for many years, I think till his seventies. He became an elder brother to many young people serving with the ships. It had been a privilege to learn from Stan and we remained friends the rest of his life. 

Our Sydney hosts were a Scottish couple. They had previously lived on board Logos where John had been chief engineer. Selflessly he and his family put us up for several weeks, serving us in a multitude of ways. They lived in the suburb of Manly. By car it was quite a distance from the city where we had set up a temporary office in the premises of a seaman’s mission. It was located walking distance from the main ferry terminal. We therefore often commuted to the city by ferry – a much more pleasant and convenient way to travel. There was something very refreshing and relaxing about the trip which took about half an hour. Breathing in the fresh sea air. Drinking in the spectacular coastline views and iconic city landmarks such as the Sydney harbour bridge and opera house. A great way to get to the office and to de-stress at the end of the day.

A daylight view of berth

Perhaps being inspired by the Sydney city skyline and a good dose of the enthusiasm of youth I tried to be creative in my responsibilities. I recall getting a tour of Sydney Opera House with a view to hiring for a concert to be put on by the ship’s crew. Sometimes in line up we could get big discounts on facilities, occasionally even for free. The tactic was to relate that all crew and staff of Logos, including the captain, were unpaid volunteers. Our purpose in port was to serve the local community. On this occasion it didn’t work. Commercial interests prevailed and the going rate for the opera house was way beyond our budget. 

Another idea was prompted by the great berth location we had secured for our vessel. It was very near the Sydney harbour bridge. Many thousands of vehicles went over it every day. We obtained a mini airship type balloon with an advert inviting people to the ship. The whole contraption was tethered to the handrail of the bridge on Logos. The balloon then floated to be seen by commuters crossing the harbour bridge. It was a success. Alas as an advert it was too much of a success. The authorities said it was a distraction to drivers and could cause accidents. After a short lived existence it had to be taken down for safety reasons. Ah well, worth a try. 

What weaves these stories together? An older English gentleman mariner, an expatriate Scots engineer and his family and the Chinese Filipino family in Manila. Also the help of a large number of other unnamed hosts and organisations. My life intersected with these apparently disconnected people and groups. What united us was not our culture or age, our abilities or occupations. It was our common faith in Jesus and a desire to share His love for this broken yet beautiful world.

A Bigger Picture

On By Allan GrantIn faith, life, travel5 Comments
Dunes

Several of my blogs concern a role I once had which was commonly known as ‘line up’. Briefly the job involved making all manner of preparations (‘line up’) required for the floating bookship MV Logos to visit ports. The vessel was crewed by a diverse group of 140 volunteers from 25 nations. It was owned and operated by an international Christian organisation. Click this tag ‘line up’ if wish to read other blogs which concern this role. 

In the following story the main character is LUM (‘line up man’ ). 

LUM had had some previous experience lining up for the ship in a number of ports in various countries. He had now been asked to get involved in another country and port. It would mean a new culture, foods and people. An enriching learning experience to which he was looking forward to. That the country was in a state of emergency due to recent happenings did not seem to figure much in his thinking. In retrospect perhaps this should have been considered more.

Once he arrived in the country LUM was partly based in the capital city trying to secure government permissions for the ship to come. This included getting access for the general public to come onboard. However he still had to make fairly regular trips to the coastal city where the ship was due to visit. This involved some hours bus ride through the desert. Endless sand dunes piled like waves in the sea. Sunglasses were essential. Sometimes needing pain killers to ease headaches from the bright light. Usually there was one stop in the middle of nowhere in particular. Most passengers then piled out to follow the call to prayer. It was a dramatic scene to watch. People bowing down on their prayer mats in the desert. 

Just getting into the port authority area took half a day as various passes were required. Many dealings such as this seemed to take much time. As far as passes were concerned they also needed renewing every week. Slowly LUM awakened to the fact that most things could get done much quicker by ‘greasing the palm’ of whoever was in authority. This way of getting business done seemed to reach into every service required. There were also times when both officials and other contacts changed their minds. Sometimes people were very positive about the ship coming. On other occasions the same people were, at best, ambivalent. LUM was told that on a previous visit of the ship a number of officials were annoyed by not being ‘rewarded’ enough. Maybe this explained the fluid nature of some people’s views. Asking for written permission for things was not always straightforward. LUM recalls offending one official by pressing for more than verbal assurances. Did not LUM see that he (the official) was an honourable man? That his word could be trusted.

This period in LUM’S life was in the days long before mobile phones. You could spend half a day or whole evening trying to make an international phone call. First of all you had to visit the telephone exchange. Then fill in a form to book the number and destination country with the operator. Then wait, and wait, much like you might in a doctor’s surgery. Eventually the operator beckoned you to go into a booth. At last you would be put through. 

As with port entry the process of phoning might be speeded up if extra money was involved. For LUM it presented a moral dilemma. It seemed that for large parts of the economy people in jobs were paid very poorly. In order to make a living there was an expectation that a job would also be an opportunity to get tips. When does a tip become a bribe? 

LUM’s time in the country coincided with the annual fasting period of the majority religion. He felt awkward not abstaining from food or drink during the day when most of the population was doing so. There is something about eating that is a communal and shared activity. He felt very antisocial eating out in public when others were not able to eat. Once he recalls eating in a restaurant in the early evening. Everyone else was sitting at table with untouched glasses of water. All patiently waiting for the signal when the day’s fast would be over. For LUM it was not pleasant to have a roomful of hungry, perhaps resentful, eyes watching him eat. He concluded it would be better to avoid such embarrassments and eat at more suitable times. 

Due to security issues the contact LUM had with colleagues living long-term in the country was very limited. LUM felt quite isolated. Any engagement with others often meant surreptitiously visiting houses. Usually one by one entering and leaving at widely separated times. Done ostensibly so as not to arouse suspicion. LUM was not sure such precautions meant much. On one occasion a colleague living in the country pointed to an apparently crippled beggar. He was sitting on the ground across the road from the house they were meeting in. LUM’s colleague said the man was often there. At the end of the day he would leave and walk away. His lameness miraculously healed. LUM was told the ‘beggar’ was employed to watch their house and report on comings and goings. Probably any precautions taken pandered more to the need to feel careful. 

Maybe LUM had led a sheltered life but one unpleasant experience was the awareness of being followed. One occasion whilst out walking comes to his mind. It was chilling to look over his shoulder and keep seeing the same person behind him. To confirm he was being followed he took random turns through the streets. Yes it was same person some distance behind. Whether LUM was slow or fast or whichever way he turned LUM appeared to be shadowed. Strangely once LUM accepted he was being followed he put it out of his mind.

After a number of weeks preparations the ship was due to come. Due to other commitments LUM had to leave the country some days before the actual arrival. However all preparations seemed to be in order. Other line up people had come and they would be around for the ship’s visit. 

The ship duly arrived in the port and the gangway lowered in anticipation of being open to locals. Within just a few hours the shipping agent gave a distressing message. He said the vessel had to leave port immediately and anchor in international waters. Apparently there was a threat. What really was going on LUM has never come to understand. The door to stay was firmly closed. What was clear was that the ship had nowhere to go for weeks with a crew of 140 sitting many miles offshore.

For LUM personally it was also disconcerting that several of the foreigners he had contact with were deported shortly after. 

This crisis of a ship with nowhere to go opened an unforeseen opportunity. In a matter of days a colleague was able to get permission for the ship to visit another place. Somewhere that up till then had not been thought possible.

Many years later LUM reflects on this whole experience. He believes there is a bigger picture. Behind well intentioned plans that seem to come to nothing God is working out his purposes.

The Big Picture** by Elisabeth Grant

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8‬:‭28‬ ‭NIVUK‬‬

** elisabethgrantart.com

Strangers and Pilgrims – Coming Home

On By Allan GrantIn faith, life, travel11 Comments

For some weeks in 1979 I visited what was then Western Samoa in the South Pacific. An independent state it became known in 1997 simply as Samoa. Not to be confused with the American territory of American Samoa which lay to the south east! W. Samoa consists mainly of two inhabited islands in the midst of a vast ocean. I first visited on my own and was doing the job of ‘line up’, preparing for the visit of the ship MV Logos. See ‘line up’ tag links if interested to know more. Before going I had been given the name of one man that would introduce me to people who could help me with accommodation and contacts. Problem was that I only had the name and no address or phone number. This was before the days of mobile phones and social media so it wasn’t clear how I would find him. On arrival at the airport in the capital Apia I decided to take the airport bus which made a tour of the island’s hotels dropping people off. Money was very tight so was a bit anxious about taking a hotel but couldn’t think of any other plan. Anyhow got off at I think the last hotel on the route and went to reception to book a room for the night. While signing the visitors book whose name should I see but the one contact I was looking for. His room was next door to mine! What an answer to my prayers.

It was arranged for me to stay with an extended Samoan family. Their gracious hospitality was in accord with their culture and traditions. Three generations all slept on the floor in one room but I was given the privacy of my own room. At mealtimes I would eat first, watched by the father of the family. Then it was his turn to eat, followed by the boys. Then the mother and womenfolk. Finally, the poor girls ate whatever was left. I felt honoured but also the responsibility not to eat too much so as those following had enough to eat.

Western Samoa lies near the international date line. It is no mistake that this rather crooked line between north and south poles weaves its way through the most remote and sparsely populated areas of the earth. Mainly between remote islands and ocean. Imagine the chaos if the date line went through the heart of Greenwich, London instead. In 1979 W. Samoa was just to the east of the dateline** and was proud of its status of always having the last sunsets of any given day. Not to be outdone I noticed that the local newspaper in Tonga (west of dateline) had the strapline ‘where time begins‘.

Living and travelling near the dateline plays havoc with your diary. On one occasion I flew from Western Samoa to Tonga which was on the western side of the date line. Diary entry says I left Apia at 3:15pm on Sunday 28th October 1979 and arrived Tonga 4:50pm on Saturday the 27th. It was weird having 2 Sundays that week! About a month later I was on board the MV Logos. We set sail from Western Samoa on Sunday night at 11:10pm on the 25th November. Our destination was Fiji to the west of dateline. My diary has the words ‘NO MONDAY’ scribbled for the 26th November.

Such novel (to me, not to locals!) cultural and geographical experiences were of course exciting. However living for some months in such remote parts and often alone did leave me feeling vulnerable and lonely at times. One of W. Samoa’s most celebrated visitors of a bygone age was Robert Louis Stevenson. He was a Scot and a famous writer who spent his last days on Samoa. He was the author of much loved and world renown classics including ‘Treasure Island‘ and ‘Kidnapped‘. His writing never impressed me as a boy. It might have had something to do with his works being prescribed English reading for most Scottish school children at the time. My interest however was awakened during my stay in Samoa. Despite dying over 90 years previously I was intrigued that his memory was still revered by locals. Known in Samoan as ‘Tusitala’ (‘teller of tales’) he had been buried in Samoa.

So while there I resolved one day to visit his grave. It was reached by climbing Mt. Vaea. Stevenson had written an epitaph as a poem which was inscribed on his tomb. Reading the last few lines spoke to me profoundly. Poetry can give space to feelings in the journey of life you can’t describe, awakening longings you are scarcely aware of. 

Home is the sailor, home from the sea, 

and the hunter home from the hill. 

RL Stevenson

About a year after my visit to Samoa I flew back from the Far East to the UK. After 30 countries and over 3 years away my thoughts were much on coming home. Although I’d had many separate travels during these 3 years there was also a sense of having completed one long journey. When leaving the UK in Sept 1977 I had no idea how long my time away would be. Here are my notes then of the return trip back to UK…

The journey to the U.K. was interesting: From Bangkok I flew via Delhi, Bombay and Rome to arrive somewhat weary in Frankfurt, West Germany to discover the airline had lost all my baggage. Truly forsaking all was becoming a reality – thoughts of returning home after over 3 years away with a Bible and a few notes as sole possessions filled my mind. I spent a night at the Int’1 HQ for both MV DOULOS and LOGOS in Mosbach, West Germany. The next day saw me travel luggageless on to London via Paris. In the air approaching London I was awakened from slumbers by my name being called on the plane’s tannoy system — surprise luggage was on this plane: False alarm as it didn’t materialise on the airport’s conveyor belt. Eventually it came on another plane — it was all quite a test as in 3 years of travelling no such thing had happened. Nov’ 1980

These experiences evoked a variety of contradictory emotions. The following is a short poem I wrote during that homebound journey. Like Stevenson’s poem it helped give expression to my feelings at the time.

In Christ we are always coming home

As coming home is our hearts meeting the object of our treasure

For we who love Him what joy to know this daily experience

Of meeting the One who is the same yesterday, today and forever

At whose feet our hopes are never disappointed

However many ‘homecomings’ I have in this life the true calling is that ‘here we have no continuing city, but we seek the one to come’ (Hebrews 13 vs 14).

** At midnight on 29th Dec 2011 Samoa moved west of the dateline and missed out on 30 Dec in the process. It was said to help trade with Australia and New Zealand.

Let Not Your Heart Be Troubled

On By Allan GrantIn faith, life, travel8 Comments
Crowds visiting the on board book exhibition on MV Logos in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic – Jan 1987

In early 1987 Elisabeth and I were living on board the MV Logos. For both of us it had been our home previously before we got married. This latest period we had spent nearly 2 years travelling around the Caribbean, Central and North America and the north coast of South America. As I look at my diary of the time it was probably the most intensive time of our lives so far. Constant travelling and adjusting to many cultures it was also rewarding. My job involved coordinating onboard and onshore programmes as well as the advance preparations for future ports the ship would visit. It meant a mixture of being on board for some time and then travelling ahead of the ship to other countries and ports. Then return to the vessel, usually in another port from that I had left**. In the meantime Elisabeth’s job involved personnel responsibility for the women on board. 

Our cabin was tiny. Once when ship was in Puerto Rico we had a few days off shore in the home of an American couple. When asked how big our cabin was we said it was about the size of their walk in wardrobes. However it was our home. The 140+ crew of Logos were split up into different ‘families’ as a kind of smaller grouping to celebrate birthdays and other social occasions. They were led by a married couple and so we had a ‘family’ of about 10 singles of various nationalities. We would usually meet in our little cabin.

In our cabin with our ship ‘family’ on MV Logos (1985-87). Photo taken from cabin door.

My on board ‘place of work’ was also very small. Porthole-less, it had enough floor place for a swivel chair and a small desk. Entire office reachable from chair. I shared this space with the Chief Steward Mandy. The room was dominated and divided by the forward mast, almost like an unwanted guest. Mandy on the port side and I on the starboard. Being far forward on the ship the area was prone to pitching if there were rough seas. Elisabeth also had a little cupboard like space as an office underneath the main internal stairway.

Mandy and I, and mast, in our shared office

In January 1987 we were berthed in Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican Republic. I had visited several times previously organising the ship to visit. On one occasion Elisabeth and I were able to do so together and stayed at the home of an American missionary couple. They had a beautiful, tropical garden. The husband was a real romantic. Every day he picked a fresh hibiscus to put on the breakfast table. 

Anyhow back to life on board Logos. One evening in our cabin I stretched for something on a shelf and was literally floored by an intense chest pain. This was followed by difficulty breathing and moving. The ship medic didn’t know what it was but gave me pain killers. After a few days I was still in pain and very breathless. It was decided to admit me to a local private hospital where they told me I had pneumonia. There they put me on a drip for 2 days. However no one could say what was the problem. After hospital I was back on board but was told to rest. 

I was discouraged by my situation. All the more as no one seemed able to diagnose and thus treat me. Some were saying it was my heart, others my lungs.  An X-ray seemed to show that I might have pleurisy or pneumonia. One time lying in bed my gaze fixed on the small poster on our cabin wall. It was the words of Jesus to his followers…

“Let not your heart be troubled. You believe in God ; believe also in me.”  John 14:1 KJV

My pain or my fatigue did not disappear but at that moment I felt Jesus had spoken to me. In context he was speaking to those who were fearful of their future without him. Yet for me his words of comfort to a troubled heart had both an emotional and literal meaning. 

Over the subsequent weeks my pain slowly eased and gradually I got a bit stronger. I returned to my previous tasks and travel. However it was clear that to fully recover Elisabeth and I needed to take things at a slower pace onshore. Elisabeth was also experiencing frequent migraines.

And so it was that in March 1987 we said goodbye to shipmates in the lovely island of Aruba in the Netherlands Antilles. Friendships had been forged through living and working together. Leaving such a caring community was not easy.

As we flew back to an unknown and unplanned for future in the UK we received a double blessing. No extra charge for our 80kg of luggage as we shared our situation with the airline. These were possessions from our home of 2 years and not from some exotic 2 week Caribbean holiday. Then as we waited in the departure lounge our names were called to the flight desk. Thinking there was some problem we were asked…

“There had been a mistake and the plane was very fulł. Would we mind if we were put in first class?”

Think you know the answer to that. 

Back in the UK my condition remained for some months. I was checked out by two doctors and a cardiologist. They gave assurances that whatever I had had it was not pleurisy or pneumonia and could not detect any problem with my heart. Maybe it was some kind of physical reaction to stress. Some things both then and later in life do not get explanations. It’s at times like that I need reminding of Jesus’ words on our cabin wall many years ago. 

POSTSCRIPT Little did we know that March 1987 would be the last time we would see this vessel that had been our home on and off over a 10 year period. On the 4th of January 1988 the ship ran aground. She had struck a submerged Chilean rock in the Magellan Strait in the very south of South America. Miraculously no one was lost and all the crew were safely rescued by the Chilean navy***. Today she is a rusting hulk resting on the same rock, half in and half out of the water with our cabin home submerged. However I would rather remember Logos as a tool that was utilised. It took people to welcome and serve the 6.5 million who walked up the gangway in 108 countries over 17 years. God had used the simple faith of a bunch of largely young and inexperienced people to touch many lives. That story continues to this day with other ships.

MV Logos, as I remember her.

** In another post I recall a visit to Haiti ( Poignant, Hopeful, Maybe Even Joyful ) where I detail more of what this advance work involved in the region. Similar work in other parts of the world can be found by clicking the tag ‘line up’ on this site.

*** You can read an interesting article here by Kathy Knight who was on board when the ship ran aground