A presentiment realised by Roger Knight
The worst moments in life are heralded by small observations. Andy Weir
There can be moments in our lives when we develop a sixth sense, or have a vague inkling that our world is about to fall apart.
It can be hard to put one’s finger precisely on the cause of the foreboding, but often in retrospect it becomes all too apparent. We all paradoxically have 20/20 vision in hindsight, becoming generals after the battle, which is mostly lost.
Back in 1990 I had established a recruitment and training business in Brisbane. All was proceeding to plan, but the core business was recruiting medical professionals to Saudi Arabia, which I did not want to rely on long-term.
We had just made our first domestic placement, a particularly satisfying one, because my training partner had prepared the candidate well for her interview. It was a promising start to expanding the business into the lucrative medical consumables market.
But, with only eight months into operation, Sadam Hussein invaded Kuwait and, as a direct consequence of that, my life and livelihood became upended.
Approved candidates were dropping like flies, and those that were still prepared to travel couldn’t.
The fledgling company was now in serious strife, and to make matters worse, I unwittingly became a Channel 9 news item, when their news crew burst uninvited into the office. Under the glare of the lights, I was asked why I was sending Australians into a war zone.
Although I was able to easily deflect this accusation, after all candidates were hardly being press-ganged into going, the publicity was damaging.
As a means of keeping the business financially afloat, I put myself forward for a manpower manager position at a hospital in Jeddah. A few weeks later, once my visa was issued, I was on my way.
Despite potentially flying into danger, my wife seemed quite unconcerned at the time, and as we parted at Brisbane airport, I acquired the unsettling sense that she seemed almost pleased to see me go, despite the risks involved.
On the flight to Singapore was a pharmacist who was returning from leave. When we arrived, we ended up sharing a hotel room for several nights, as the Saudia flight to Jeddah was awaiting military clearance to fly.
By now, part of me already wished that the flight to Jeddah wouldn’t get clearance and I could simply return to my life back in Brisbane. But deep down, I knew that the Rubicon was about to be crossed and my life was about to be irrevocably changed.
So it was during that wait that I developed the sinking realisation of a watershed moment that was moving the tectonic plates of my life beneath my feet in Singapore, with a concomitant flattening of mood and outlook.
Such was the extent of this flattening that my travelling companion, who chose to only wear her lingerie in the room, completely failed to capture my attention or interest.
Once flight clearance had been obtained, we were subjected to a thorough security check. Many of the passengers were carrying several gas masks in their carry-on luggage, a stark reminder that I was flying into a war zone.
But no matter, I was already resigned to my fate, as though like Icarus I was done for anyway and was just hurtling towards the sea.
On arrival into Jeddah, my precious lifeline to the outside world, my shortwave radio, was confiscated. It was a discouraging start, as there was limited news available about the course of the Gulf War.
A few weeks later, though, the war ended, along with my marriage of ten years, and the dreaded presentiment was eventually realised. My worst fears were confirmed. Those tectonic plates had indeed shifted without any overt warning, and the soul-searching and anguish as to why was just beginning.
RAK 5/23
