You may have missed this news item, or thought no more about it. Recently, twelve inmates at the Petit-Verger prison in a coastal village near Port Louis, Mauritius, were caught trying to escape. The plot was foiled by an alert prison guard and his dog. Among the twelve was an Indian—Sunil Kumar Nandeshwar, probably now in solitary confinement for having dared to make the attempt.
Does the name ring a bell? No? To me, it does. He is none other than the Master of the ship M.V.Wakashio—the huge bulk carrier that ran aground close to the southeast coast of Mauritius on July 25, 2020. Now, for more than a year, Capt. Nandeshwar is being treated as a common criminal, languishing among murderers, rapists and thieves in a Mauritian jail, thousands of miles from home, for suspected negligence of his professional duties. I cannot help but feel for him. It is not only the end of his professional career; God knows when he will be able to see his family again, let alone provide for them.
The ship spilled an estimated 1,000 tonnes of fuel oil into the pristine waters of a coral lagoon, despite salvage efforts and trying to pump out the fuel oil remaining in her tanks into barges. The waves of the Indian Ocean broke her in two about three weeks after the grounding. Her front section was towed away and sunk, and wreck-removal efforts for her rear section (stern) began in February this year. But extended periods of poor weather have hampered this effort, and till date the stern section remains at the site, firm on the rocks.
This pollution of the island’s marine environment has been called by some scientists as the worst environmental disaster ever in Mauritius. Though, by all accounts, all surface oil has now been removed from Mauritius waters, and the coastline restored, someone has to pay for this damage, no? Tourism plays a major role in the economy of Mauritius and is centred on scenic beaches, water sports and aquatic animals likely to be endangered by the oil spill. Thousands of protesters assembled last year in the capital Port Louis, calling for the Prime Minister to step down. This incident was declared a National Emergency, and made headlines worldwide.
What better bargaining chip for the Mauritius government in a maritime accident like this than to nab the crew on board, in order to make the ship-owner accountable? Especially when the Japanese owner is hiding under a Panamanian Flag of Convenience?
Capt. Nandeshwar and his second-in-command Chief Officer Tilakaratna Subodha, a Srilankan national, who was on navigational watch at the time of the incident, were arrested shortly thereafter, and in August 2020 were charged with ‘endangering safe navigation’. They have been detained in prison since their arrest without bail. Capt. Nandeshwar recently tested positive for Covid-19, and was transferred to Petit-Verger Prison for quarantine, from where he made that bid to escape. One can only imagine the state of mind he was in to have even thought of colluding with criminals to try and escape from prison in a foreign land. What about his mental and physical health now?
Not just the two officers—Mauritius' law enforcement authorities are also preventing the rest of the vessel's crew from leaving the country. Even those who have not been charged are not being permitted to return home, perhaps in an effort to have them present to testify at a trial that is yet to commence. Some of them had already been on board the Wakashio for more than 12 months due to the crew change crisis caused by the pandemic. Now they’ve been away from their families for over two years. Nandeshwar himself had already completed 8 months on board at the time of the incident.
What caused the accident is still not clear. According to investigators who conducted interviews with the crew members, the crew had been celebrating the birthday of a fellow shipmate at the time of the grounding. In order to get a cell phone connection to be able to call home, the homesick crew had diverted the ship too close to shore while passing the island of Mauritius. However, local police said looking for a phone signal would not have required sailing so close to land. Plus, the ship's vessel operator, Mitsui OSK Lines, stated that their fleet had access to free and unlimited internet! All conflicting reports. Speculation is rife as to what really happened, while an official Investigation Report is awaited. But it is safe to say that there were grave mistakes made by the ship’s crew—at least those on navigational watch at that time—for the ship to come this close to shore and run aground. But does that make them criminals to be thrown into prison without bail?
This blog is not about why or how this incident took place. It is about the criminalization of seafarers, a growing trend.
While I am in no way defending the mistakes made that allowed this disaster to happen, let us look at some other facts. It turns out that the Wakashio had only 20 crew members on board. Just 20 seamen to maintain and operate a huge 13 year old vessel 300m long and 50m wide, too large to pass through the Suez or Panama Canals. The rules are clear about this—for a vessel of that size and age, the crew size should have been 24. The logic for that rule is simple—as ships get older, the maintenance workload starts to increase and more hands are required. (Imagine the increasing maintenance required on your vehicle if it is now 13 years old from the time you bought it brand new.)
A ship is required to have a Safe Manning Certificate on board. This would have specified that a crew of 24 would be needed for a 13 year old ‘Capesize’ Bulk Carrier, like the Wakashio. The only way to travel in breach of this Safe Manning Certificate, is to get a Certificate of Emergency Exemption. Without this exemption, the ship would be unable to leave port. So the only way for the Wakashio to have been allowed to leave the port of Singapore (her last port of call) would have been to get an ‘Emergency Exemption’ granted by the ship’s inspectors. Which begs the question why it was considered okay by the inspectors, presumably belonging to a reputable Classification Society, to have allowed the Wakashio to travel with 17% fewer crew for an indefinitely long voyage? How long had the Wakashio been allowed to operate with almost 1 in 5 crew short?
By ‘indefinitely long voyage’ I mean just that. That (final) voyage of the Wakashio was going to be longer than circumventing the entire planet! The Wakashio had been en route from China to Brazil to pick up a cargo of heavy iron ore and bring it back to the steel mills of Japan and China. This is a journey of at least 15,000 miles one way, making it a 30,000 mile round trip (without any crew change given Covid-19 restrictions). It is a journey that takes between 40 and 45 days to complete each way. (For comparison with the Wakashio’s 30,000 mile round trip, the circumference of the Earth is less than 25,000 miles.) The Japan-Brazil round trip was as long as it gets in terms of ship voyages. The sense of isolation on such a voyage can be overwhelming, and its effect on a seaman’s mental health.
To make matters worse, three of the 20 skeleton crew on board were on extended contracts when the vessel grounded off Mauritius on July 25. Two of whom had been on board for over 12 months. This would have put the ship-owner and those responsible for crewing the vessel in breach of several international labour and ship manning regulations.
Seamen are not given the respect and empathy they deserve. Their mental health in these Covid times is at the tipping point. Total isolation from the rest of the world. Shore leave, where they can feel firm ground under their feet and remind themselves what trees, traffic and other people look like, is non-existent. Long spells of duty, where they know one single mistake could prove costly, stresses them out. Relaxing with a quiet beer in the Recreation Room after their watch with a colleague from the other department is no longer possible, as most companies have banned alcohol on board their fleet of ships. A seafarer’s life is fast approaching that prevailing in a monastery. Earlier, money was a motivation, but with stagnant wages that too has diminished. Many shipping companies still do not provide internet on board, though it costs a fraction of their other operating expenses. Today internet is a part of everyone’s life, almost a fundamental right. Why should the seafarer be deprived of that for months at a stretch? Not just to connect with family, but with the world at large? Spare a thought for them.
Seamen are now just psychological ticking time bombs ready to go off at the slightest additional pressure. No wonder mistakes are made. Serious mistakes involving life and property. On top of that, they are being treated like criminals the world over—at par with murderers, thieves and rapists—for shipping incidents. Dark days lie ahead.
Beetashok Chatterjee is the author of ‘Driftwood’, a collection of stories about Life at Sea and ‘The People Tree’, another collection of stories about ordinary people with extraordinary experiences. A retired merchant ship’s captain by profession, this old sea dog lives in New Delhi with his memories of living more than 40 years on the waves.
His books are available on Amazon. Click here.
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