11.1 Gadu Badu

An open Land Rover braked to a halt in front of the magistrate’s house on Nares Road. Major W W Phyllis and Wing Commander John Knet, who was posted recently, stepped out of the vehicle.

They were received by Adaran and summoned to his office. This was a U-type building and the front room of the west wing accommodated his office. Adaran conducted all his meetings here. Floor level about a metre high and steps with stone balustrades lead to the doors on both wings. When he addressed the crowd, he would stand on top of the steps that lie to the length of the main hall. A flag post stood before the steps, lawn carpeted of white sand and no trees in the foreground.

Major W W Phyllis and RAF Air Station Commander Knet came to talk about growing concerns and under pressure from the central government they had no alternative but to call off workers from the islands.

Adaran advised, “You should not stop them or bend to the demands of the central government. People have shown disappointment. They protest in front of my office every day. Blood is boiling.”

At that moment, Shakir cycled up the main road and turned to Nares Road to find a parked vehicle. He pedalled fast to take the corner north and turn into Malim Lane. He left the bike by the mosque and crossed Iris Higun on foot into Amber Lane beside the playing field. A row of houses stood to his right.

Major Phyllis articulated, “My lord! It is time. Every wealthy merchant, all able leaders, they trust you. We have talked about this and I hear the voices of the people. They demand freedom. I guarantee that you will get British backing.”

Adaran nodded and probed, “What do you think, Commander?”

“I am sorry, sir,” Knet was a man of few words, “I came to tell you about our inferiority that we cannot take your folk to work at the base. It will help, sir, if you can come to terms with the central government. Your people will continue work with new increment.”

“See!” Adaran turned to the major.

“I am talking on behalf of Her Majesty’s Government,” said Major W W Phyllis and the commander refrained slightly, “You’ve picked our hands and promised us that you will form the alliance if it comes to this. You said you have everything planned, three southern atolls in unison and even an initial seating for a parliament allocated.

“In a democracy, you take vote and let the public decide. Addu people are dying for it.”

“I understand, Major,” griped Adaran, “but I am not going to do anything against the central government.”

“This is it, my lord, you must keep your promise. What can I do to change your mind and take that step to declare an independent state?”

Shakir entered a garden and hid behind the trees plugging his earphone. He listened to the conversation.

Adaran was saying, “Capital forces will come with arms. There is no guarantee how it is going to end. We are empty handed. We have very little chance to hold on calling it a United Suvadive Islands Republic. Besides, I fear for my family and myself. Will you promise me to give us that kind of protection?”

“Of course,” uttered the major.

“I’m asking very specifically for British asylum for me and my family in case things go wrong. Is that too much to ask?”

Major Phyllis responded, “If I get you protection granted by the British Government, will you immediately declare the independent state?”

“I will,” said Adaran.

“Write me a letter…a note.”

“What am I supposed to write?”

“You demand British asylum for you and your family and with this guarantee you commit to declare the United Suvadive.”

Adaran shook his head.

“I promise that I get you British asylum from Her Majesty’s Government. Go on, do it!”

Adaran picked his pen and a notepad. There was silence for a moment. He scribbled on paper and signed. He detached the page from the notepad, folded it, inserted into an envelope and handed to the major.

“Thank you,” acknowledged the major, “It won’t take long. You will hear from us.”

They came out and climbed the vehicle. Knet sat on the passenger seat and Sergeant Mark Stevens driving. Knet turned around and uttered, “Are you sure about that you can get him asylum? You make me nervous talking on behalf of the government in that way.”

“This is my duty,” replied Phyllis, “I am a field officer to watch birds. I will repeat my retirement once this is over.”

Shakir returned to his bike and cycled back to Etherevari to collect his motorbike. He rode to Maradu and stopped outside Koka. “I want to talk to you, Habib!”

Habib was lost in a game of chess, “Five minutes!”

“I’ll be at your place,” he kicked off.

A moment later, Habib arrived. Shakir told him about the officers’ call, “They talked about the new republic and he wrote a note.”

“Take me there!” Habib insisted.

“What?” Shakir eyed at this tall useless guy, “They have left already!”

“Take me there!”

“They are gone!”

“Take me there!”

Shakir carried him on the fairing seat up the Link Road to Nares Road in Hittadu.

He entered the magistrate’s office and climbed the steps to the west wing. He peered in through the door. It was empty. He entered and not a minute passed when he reappeared. “Take me to Etherevari,” Habib demanded.

At Etherevari, he entered Shakir’s room and produced a fresh page of a letter writing pad from his pocket. Spread it on the table. He also stole a carbon paper from Adaran’s table. He began to rub the ink on the piece of paper, “I stole the top page from his notepad. See if you can read this!”

Shakir glanced at a visible doodle that was made from nib scribbling. He was able to read.

“The Right Honourable Home Secretary. I, Adaran, 44-year-old public servant from Addu Atoll write in order to seek asylum from the United Kingdom for me and my family for I fear that we put our lives at risk of threats, detention and torture, in my pledge to form the United Suvadive Islands separate from the Maldive Islands. I undertake this task for the public of Addu Atoll who unanimously demand for their freedom. My promise to the Addu people to form the independent state will be reached and I stand committed to do so. If we are given protection and granted asylum in a Muslim country of your choice, my task would become favourably facilitated.”

Savari Shakir interpreted its context to Footloose Habib.

“Let’s go call Malikurva. Inform him,” decided Habib.