Red Cross Blogs

Indiana Claire and the priceless Afghan artifacts

By Claire Durham
June 5, 2009 at 8:23 pm

So there I was the other day, a teeny bit bored and so just for fun I decided to Google my name. I mean come on, we’ve all done it right? No? Just me then! Or maybe I’m the only one willing to admit it. Anyway there is a lot of dull stuff out there and an alarmingly high number postings from people with my moniker, I’m not the fencing champion or the newly wed by the way!

And then I saw something that made my heart beat a little faster and caused a flurry of excitement in my stomach. My name linked to the words “exclusive photographs” and “National Geographic”. I clicked on the link and there under the headline ‘Rare artifacts return to Afghanistan’ was the photograph I had taken whilst standing on the snow covered tarmac of Kabul international airport on a gloriously sunny morning back in February.

The plane ride to get to Kabul had taken around 30 hours but the whole repatriation journey had taken much longer. Back in November the head of International Humanitarian Law (IHL) had come to the logistics team to ask for our help. The British government was asking for help from the British Red Cross to return priceless artefacts back to Afghanistan. I agreed that we could do this although I had no idea at the time that I would be lucky enough to accompany the items on their epic journey home.

War-torn Afghanistan has suffered from a spate of lootings of precious and historical items that have then been smuggled abroad. In this case, UK Customs had spotted the stolen items when they arrived at Heathrow and confiscated them. From there they were moved to the British Museum where archaeologists examined and catalogued these historic items some of which were more than 3,000 years old. Finally the items were carefully loaded into protective wooden packing crates in preparation for the flight home. And that’s where my part in the story begins.

Now it might seem a strange thing for us to get involved in. It raised many questions and the odd eyebrow from my nearest and dearest when I mentioned it. When you think about what we do this doesn’t automatically spring to mind. However the British Red Cross has a special role as an auxiliary to the Government in humanitarian matters and International Humanitarian law (IHL) whilst maintaining our independence. IHL includes protecting the culture of people unlucky enough to be caught up in war. So actually it makes perfect sense for us to get involved.

You might be surprised to learn that hiring a whole aircraft to fly directly from one airport to another is relatively easy. You do need a shed load of cash though so don’t try this if you are not feeling very flush. However this was quite a small shipment, (around 4000kg) so it would have been like hiring a coach when a scooter would be more than adequate. So instead space needed to be found on other scheduled flights, none of which fly directly, so changing planes at least once was the reality. It was important to bear in mind that the goods were unique, irreplaceable and fragile (no pressure there then!) and as highly desirable items, security was a big priority. You also would not believe the immense number of public holidays there are around the world, all of which seemed to deliberately scupper my plans!

Finally a route plan of London-Manchester-Dubai-Kabul was agreed, with dates that worked for everyone involved. Having no choice but to kick off on Friday 13th and wrestling all superstitious fears to the back of my mind, I pulled up outside a warehouse in west London. Having signed on the dotted line, the 22 bright orange wooden crates containing more than 1,500 historically important stone and marble antiquities became my full responsibility. With the crates loaded onto a truck, I swung into the driving seat of the Land Rover and the two vehicle convoy set off into the morning rush hour traffic en route for Manchester. A few hours later I watched the crates being unloaded, x-rayed for security purposes and safely stored in the cargo warehouse. I then headed off to the guesthouse to check my emails for any last minute changes to the schedule and to get all of the documents ready.

On Sunday morning, after a delicious cooked breakfast, I headed back to the airport to watch the crates being loaded onto a jumbo jet that would take us to Dubai. This was a cargo aircraft so the area that would normally contain seats had been stripped out to make another hold. The only passenger seats still left were the six in the ‘bubble’ behind the cockpit, the area where the first class passengers normally sit! I scrambled up the ladder to the cabin, first class ticket in hand (yes it did say that and yes I still have it as a souvenir) and set about claiming the best seat.

Captain Tim, the man in charge of getting us there, gave a comprehensive safety briefing. Although he refrained from actually donning what looked like a large nappy but what turned out to be the security harness I would need to wear if I needed to evacuate the plane through the hatch in the cockpit roof! He also demoed the galley kitchen. We had to cook our own meals because there’s no cabin crew on cargo aircrafts, understandably. Finally I discovered the bedrooms at the back of the cabin and that’s where I spent most of the flight, not because I’m lazy mind but in preparation for the early morning arrival into Dubai.

Bleary eyed but satisfyingly full (I’d really got into the swing of choosing and cooking my own airline meals) I cleared immigration and I rocked up to the cargo warehouse. The biggest challenge ahead of me that day was securing an airside pass that would allow me to watch the second plane being loaded. Despite a flurry of emails and phone calls I had failed to get the necessary approvals for the pass before my arrival. Not one to give up easily and figuring that a face-to-face request is much harder to refuse I set about the task. A mere 15 hours later, all of which were spent in a rigid plastic chair at the airport, the elusive pass materialised. Triumphant and a bit numb in my lower extremities I hailed a cab and headed to the hotel for a nap and a much needed shower.

By 1am I was back at the now very familiar airport and standing on the tarmac beside the hulking great Russian plane that was taking us to Kabul. My main aim was to make sure that the crates were loaded last and in the least precarious manner so as to protect them. Sadly this plan was in direct opposition to the loadmaster’s who was trying to load as much cargo as was humanly possible onto said plane. I was not helping in this by refusing to allow him to use my big, heavy crates as the foundations for the rest of the load. I don’t speak Russian but through the angry gesticulation and dark looks thrown my way, I was reading him loud and clear. Seven short hours later my crates were the final items loaded and the backdoors were shut ready for take off.

This time there was no first class travel, in fact there wasn’t really a seat as such. A small foldable plastic chair was offered to me but instead I opted to sit on the floor next to the navigator so that I could take full advantage of the panoramic views from the glass nose cone. Over the sands of Dubai, across Iran and Pakistan and then the ring of mountains that surrounds Kabul loomed into sight. After a surprisingly smooth landing, the door was flung open and I hopped down the ladder and on to the snow covered tarmac.

Despite the snow, the sky was bright blue and the sun was beating down. This was my first time in Afghanistan and the scenery was breathtakingly beautiful. Having offloaded the crates I was met by an entourage from the British Embassy and the National Museum. This group included Mr Masoudi the museum director who warmly shook me by the hand and welcomed me to Afghanistan. Handing over the documentation and ownership of the precious cargo to Mr Masoudi, I breathed a sigh of relief that everything had gone as planned.

Tired but happy I watched as the trucks rolled out of the airport compound, sunlight glinting off the orange crates, on the final few miles of their truly epic journey home. I felt proud and privileged to play my tiny part in a massive operation that had involved countless people working determinedly to make this happen. A plaque at the museum’s entrance reads: “A nation stays alive when its culture stays alive.” I think that sums it up nicely.

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Tags: Afghanistan, antiquities, artifacts, British Museum, Dubai, history, International, international law, Kabul, museum

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This entry was posted on Friday, June 5th, 2009 at 8:23 pm and is filed under Emergencies. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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