04.1 Bird Watcher

First meeting with the Commandant took place on the evening Major W W Phyllis arrived in Gan that was 18^th October 1957. It was a very wet day.

Commanding Officer of the RAF Gan Air Station, Wg Cdr Ieuan Hammond made a brief introduction, “Major W W Phyllis is post-ed here as Adviser on Maldivian Affairs to the RAF in Gan. Welcome to Gan! Let me say, as far as our forces are concerned, we have a few rules to keep our business separate from the natives. We don’t normally interact with them. We don’t buy stuff, we don’t make individual contracts, don’t share luxuries or drinks. We don’t give them fuel. We maintain western life-style within Gan and respect their indigenous way of life. We do not mix cultures. A church and a mosque are established in Gan. I believe that if we let them have western comfort, one day they might have to suffer without us in the backdrop.

“There are roughly 400 natives coming to work at the base. Often the government discourages them to work here and we stop them sometimes. They come on boats. The causeway between Feydu and Gan will remain as it is without a deck. All of the natives go back to their islands before six in the evening apart from those at the hospital. Some small Maldi boys would do a room service. Tipping is allowed though. Natives are very supportive and helpful to us. It is good to keep it this way.

“We offer some of the services. Medical treatments are passed without any charge. People come from far away atolls to receive treatment from our surgeon. I wonder of their basic lifestyle, lack of social infrastructure and an economy. They live poor but that is up for their government to improve the quality of life. We are only employing them.

“Unlike previous times, we are trying to provide some good recreational facilities to the servicemen based here. Do something to keep the body and mind occupied or else this is a hateful place for men without women. A radio station is on plan. A better post office, a cinema and a library, all that to come. Sports and pass times are introduced. NAAFI is there and hopefully resupplies don’t come late. Lot of development on schedule. A contingent of Pakistani workers is called to build an asphalt runway. We will rebuild the causeway when a permission is granted.

“Major! I am instructed by the Group Captain in Colombo to give you every possible assistance. How can I help?”

Major Phyllis responded, “Thank you, Commander. I would need an office space. I’m going to run a liaison office and working with the Government of Maldive Islands in every way to improve the conditions of the natives. I’d need help to organise preliminary meetings with the Atoll Chief, heads of the islands and key figures. I have to start surveys and census studies, look into the needs of the islanders. Resources will be channelled through the High Commission.”

“A liaison office!” uttered Wing Commander Hammond, “I pretty much doubt your idea.”

“You may find some programmes not too favourable to your cause. RAF operations and politics will keep their distance. A British urge to boost morale to win the support of the natives is too obvious at this point. British inti-midation…intervention…you may find these terms contrary. Entertainment, cinemas, jobs, clubs, British-aided schools and scouting…all planned to win their hearts and minds. Some scientific research or a team of filmmakers to shoot a documentary will be here soon. You can double the local employment and I’ll make sure that the government comply to them.

“Dependency in their ignorance with-out a fear for survival is the way forward to build their trust. Birds cannot survive without the environment. A flying fish is chased by the fish in the ocean and fish in the shoal.”

Hammond remained silent for a while, “Well, Major, you can use this house, Maranga, as your office. You have access to automaton. Well-equipped.”

“That’d be fine.”

“I’d like to ask for weekly reports.”

“You will get it. I need access to the old files since operations began in 1941.”

“That can be arranged. What else?”

“That’d be all for now.”

Rainclouds cleared and the sky turned blue by the morning. Wind carried on to rattle the wet leaves. White fairy terns lay eggs in the branches and find paradise on the shores while no land beyond lie three thousand miles nearby. Waves rolled in crashing on the sharp rocks that emerge from an outer reef, washing on the shore of white sands and hermit crabs. A sparkling sea sprawling with sharks and fishing boats sailing away.

Phyllis carried his binoculars and took a stroll around the island. Flat grassland and pockets of bushes on the horizon. A wall of palm trees to his right and at a good distance. Another bird approached from southeast to land on the airfield that lay one metre above sea level. A BOAC Britannia glided over his shoulder in an attempt to warn workers of its approach and touched down gracefully. Those aircrafts flew from the Himalayas to Antarc-tica and from the Mediterranean to Australia, touching down at Gan for refuelling.

Major passed the South Asian quarters up a path through the woods with more local huts and to the coast to turn north.

He arrived at the barracks where off-duty staff lay in their bunks inside the brown tents, penning letters to families and friends who existed somewhere in a faraway civili-sation and them virtually forgotten. Shirtless prisoners sweating in a boiling hell smacked in the brine and bitten by the bug in this harsh nature of a place they volunteered to go. Shave and shower at sundown in primitive thunder-boxes but they were still stuck in their beds nowhere to go. There were engineers, firemen, cooks, mechanics, operators and a thousand thoroughbred British men stripped to their underclothes. None had forgotten their loved ones and once back home, none could forget this either; the Gan of RAF – the Devil’s Island.

By the northwest end, there lies Feydu in close proximity, covered of wooded jungle. Sun and rain that made the vegetation stay green. Piers of a bridge emerged from water to the reach of the island two hundred metres away. Folks could wade in the lagoon to cross the channel. Flight Sergeant Harris supervised the locals and Pakistanis with beach cleaning.

Major Phyllis reached them and put his Divehi to test by uttering a few swear words. The locals cackled and prattled in a language that he could hardly grasp. Phyllis realised that he could not speak the Addu dialect but they understood him speaking the north and centric Divehi.

Afterwards, he climbed a marine craft, an LCM, with several servicemen heading to Hittadu where British forces were allowed to go. Some were wireless operators to the radio installations located in the south of Hittadu.