The Ballad of Tutū Jones

Ta te tamariki tana mahi wawahi tahā - Maori Proverb

(Note - This post was written about two months ago but as always got put on the back burner by the antics of Jamie-Lee Ross. Its a record of a conversation between me and my old friend. The words contained are checked for accuracy but in places I have paraphrased with permission)


I caught up with my old friend Tutū at at Arcadia bar in Christchurch on a rainy Friday night. We had not seen each other in the flesh since the late 90s but we had kept in touch since that time due the strong bonds we had built as students at university and soldiering together in the military.

Arcadia, is a bar cum retro video arcade on the edge of the rubble zone in the Christchurch CBD which I had taken to frequenting for its old school arcade games, pinball machines and rackuos 80s music that when combined with the cheap booze made for more than a few nostalgic nights.

Being early I grabbed a beer and headed for the pinball tables and was deeply engrossed in trying to get the Jackpot on Scared Stiff (with Elvira) when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a face from my past smiling at me.

"Ya bloody started without me" Tutū said before offering his hand and, as I took it, dragged me into a hug.

"I needed some practice or you will kick my arse like last time" I replied, referring to our last pinball "duel" in late 1999.

Tutū looked older but it was still the same face, same movements and same brick-shit-house frame as old with now more of a mellowed/weathered look and style about him as his expensive yet casual attaire implied.

But this post is not about two middle aged guys trying to recapture their past but instead about two middle aged guys talking about the future as this post is as much mines as it is Tutū's.

And if your wondering, no Tutū Jones is not his real name, he chose that name himself and I will leave readers to figure out why he might have chosen it but the rest of of his story (minus the names of any individuals or identifying details) is entirely true. 

Tutū and I met at university in the early 90s and hated each other from the moment we first met. He thought I was some smart mouthed Pakeha who thought he knew it all (and that assessment was true) while I thought he was an angry Maori with a chip on his shoulder (which he freely admits he was). 

We both were doing Pol Sci (although different years) and both wanted to change the world in our own way. It was a recipe for heated debates, racial tension and two young Kiwis of different yet similar backgrounds finding out that they had far more in common than they had different amid the backdrop of New Zealand in the 90s with its bitter economic reforms, pre internet culture and educational changes (read the end of free university education and the dreaded student loans).

Needless to say we did not socialize much after our first few clashes and a few months later the university year ended and our social groups went their different ways.

The next time I saw Tutū was three months later in a remote back valley on the West Coast of the South Island as he was getting of a RNZAF UH-1H Iroquois helicopter during practice drills for insertion by chopper during annual camp for Territorial soldiers. 

I was in the next "stick" to go up so I had no time to say anything even if the noise of the rotors had not made it impossible to hear anything but after dinner I wandered the camp till I found him with his section mates near a Unimog parked near the back of the camp and "re-introduced myself".

Somehow during those previous debates neither of us had identified ourselves as being in the military or that we both came from families with military backgrounds and it was this new fact and setting which allowed us to "reset" our relationship and talk again with the common ground of military experience (from barracks and parade ground to exercise and field) to fall back on.

So we talked that evening while wandering the twilight camp and found out we had a lot more in common that just wearing green for a living, we also shared a passion for the comic 2000AD and hanging out in video arcades as well as having both grown up under "hard" fathers who showed their love in their own special way.

It was the start of a great friendship, we would catch up at uni to skip lectures and play pinball, talk endlessly about Judge Dredd (who we both admired) and always NZ politics as both of us had somehow allowed our own fragile egos to miss the fact that our first meeting had been at a protest against the then National Government under Jim Bolger, which both of us despised.

We also crossed paths at times in the Army, sometimes in camp, sometimes in the field, where we would let each other know when we were around in our own special way and often my first knowledge that Tutū was in the area was one of his "playful" punches in the ribs: be it in the mess or on exercise.

And things stayed that way for the rest of the 90s unil I shipped out for Japan in early 2000.

The last time I saw him was at his flat in the then student slum of Brockworth Place where we talked about the Millennium Bug and if it was actually going to happen. He said no, I said yes, but looking back now I realize that I was just bored and wanting something to come along and shake up the world rather than actually thinking it was going to happen (9/11 came a long a year and a bit later and provided that).

In the years between then and now we kept in touch via email and we regaled each other with our various "adventures": me roaming Asia and him in the Middle East and later South Africa.

Because while I got out of the Army in 98 to concentrate on study Tutū stayed in and moved up the ranks before deciding to put his skills to use in Iraq after the US had invaded in 2003 where he found himself helping guard supply trucks moving from Basra to Baghdad after the US had "liberated" the country and an army of Private Military Contractors (PMCs) moved in.

The money was good but the work was monotonous as he and many other kiwi "grunts" who signed on were not of a high enough caliber (ie not ex or serving special forces) to have the glamours jobs like protecting VIPs but instead were used to protect the endless supply convoys that moved around the country keeping the big military bases stocked with food and ammo (and sometimes covert shipments of drugs).

In the end Tutū and another two people we both knew ended up serving in Iraq with PMCs. Suffice it to say it was not what they expected or what the media were portraying it as and all three reported first hand experiences of the rape of Iraq as the US effectively privatized the essential services like power and handed much of country over to large US corporations or other "connected" parties to run like their own personal fiefdoms.

Meanwhile this was still the early days of the insurgency when the danger level was just below that of an actual war but still high enough to make seeing dead bodies an almost daily reality. 

I have never pulled the trigger in anger but Tutū  says he did on more than one occasion and while he can never definitely say if he killed someone he believes he did.

"I had one dead in my sights and saw him fall" he said after a few beers "but we did not usually have the time to check as we had to didi mau* out of there before their friends showed up but you dont put rounds into someone like that and they live"

"It was terrifying, nerve racking shit being on those trucks**, sitting in that cab" he said "it often started with rocks being thrown and sometimes it was only just that through almost every town we passed but sometimes it was more". 

Its worth pointing out here that one of the key mistakes of the US in the wake of the invasion was in disbanding almost the entire Iraqi army. Putting out of work hundreds of thousands of trained soldiers in a country which was awash in weapons and ammo and where there was almost no other work to be had which, in effect, helped to create not only the post invasion insurgency that the US and other international troops fought but was also instrumental in helping create groups like ISIS by the fact that fighting was often the only thing they knew how to do (and had been trained to do) and they had nothing else to do.

But Tutū stuck it out for 12 months and when his boss offered him another 12 months working security on the convoys he took it despite our other two mates having decided that they had had enough no matter how much they were making (Tutū made in excess of 200K US taxfree in his first year) and having seen more than enough "action" decided to go work someplace else.

Roughly six months into Tutū's second tour something happened which made him decide that he had better things to do with his life, which are in Tutū's own words.

"We were going through this town, just some shit-hole place on the road to Baghdad and sometimes you get forced off the main road and have to do a detour".

"So we go round and we are going down these streets near a river or canal and its a lot narrower there, high walls round the houses and palm or date trees or whatever hanging over which close it in and make it more like a corridor than a street."

"Then the stones start up and its like, rocks and shit bouncing off the cab, the roof and sides and its sorta like rain after a while except that you can often see these things coming in, some small but others like bits of brick or whatever and they hit with a real thump or crack and, shit you really start to get nervous as this is perfect ambush territory and the noise and lack of vision means that you already have less info and options that you want."

"The driver of the truck I'm in, this this guy from the Midwest in the US, Kansas or something like that, just a truckie who was driving there and decided to come out here and make some good money driving the Basra/Baghdad route, was named Keith or something like that, big guy, liked his coffee, thats all I remember. I did not know him very well but we had worked on the same convoy before so we got along."

"So its this back street, this shitty narrow back street and I'm scanning as best I can, listening to the radio chatter from the convoy lead and hoping we are going to get through this quickly and back on the road. Things like this had happened before, and some of the other convoys had had hard times but for me it had only just been stones and locals running round with AKs and stuff, not really organised, just pissed off people really. You popped off rounds sometimes but just to drive them off, scare them, let them know you mean business if they get too close.

"And now the rocks are coming real hard and you get these flashes of the people throwing them, popping out of alleys or the sides of houses or on a roof or something and there is no time or way to return fire and I did not want to either unless we really had to because the instructions are not to stop or shoot unless shits getting real coz its better the keep the trucks moving than stop so we just keep on.

"Then there is this sound like a cracker biscut being snapped and part of the front windscreen cracks and the truck jerks to halt. It was drivers side so I figured Keith was just stopping for a second to check if it was still going to hold in place, as its a big mess of cracks but as I looked over I see he is slumped back in his seat and there is blood all over the place.

"So I'm saying, "Keith, you ok man?" and he is not moving or saying anything but I can now see he has been hit in the head, whatever it was it musta been a big caliber round as it was real messy at the back of his head and it was clear he was dead, really fucken dead,so I'm grabbing the radio and calling for help and one of the drivers from another truck comes up to help.

At the time I was not scared, it was training and adrenaline kicking in and we gotta get moving as the convoy lead is saying its not safe and so we gotta get outta town before we can do anything so its the three of us in that cab, me, the other driver and Keith. I'm trying to get a pulse but there is nothing and I just keep seeing how messy his head is and I know he's dead.

Tutū was not scared at the time but he got scared later and after that he decided that money or not it was time to move on, even when his boss offered him a bonus to stay the rest of the contract.

And the list of PMC and contractor deaths in Iraq is significant and many of them were in convoy ambushes or from IEDs.

"The things about soldiering for money" Tutū said as we settled on a couch near the back as the place filled up "is that the money is only good if your alive to spend it". "Sometimes I thought if I died my dad would get my payout and how that would help him, he's old and he is still trying to row that boat out even after his operation and I just want to make sure he is looked after but after that I was "fuck-it!, I'm looking after myself!""

Tutū left Iraq and came back to NZ for a few months before taking up a job in South Africa through contacts he had made with fellow PMCs in Iraq and he stayed there until his recent return to NZ.

His work in South Africa was for the one of the many private security companies which exist there to protect the people, mostly rich Afrikaans and Blacks, from the poor blacks and others who will try to rob, car-jack, rape or just home invade on an almost daily basis, any time, almost anywhere in the Rainbow Nation.

"Its barbed wire, guns and dogs. That's my job mate." Tutū said as we rolled into our fourth beer of the night. The cheesy 80s music was blaring loudly mixing into the roar of arcade games and pinball's while the dim lighting and the bright colors of the games gave everything a slightly neon glaze***. 

"You got these gated communities and those inside want to keep their stuff and everyone else outside wants that stuff, or just to kill, or rape you if your a woman, its really feral behavior and lotsa people got guns, lotsa people go armed everywhere, specially if your white."

In South Africa Tutū met a girl from Ireland, a nurse, and worked his way up the company food chain until he was number two for his region and making good money. By then he was living in a gated community himself with his newly wed wife and their baby daughter and acutely aware of how dangerous their existence actually was.

"I had a routine for leaving the house, no matter what time of day or for how long. You know how people go "keys, wallet, phone" before they go out the door". He said, setting up in that particular tone of voice  I knew from past experience was the punchline to a joke, "well in SA it is "Keys, wallet, phone, hand gun, vest and pepper spray" he laughed but it was a grim laugh and I could tell that he was able to joke about it now but it was probably not so funny when he was actually having to do it daily.

"And when the government decided to take land back from the white farmers without compensation and give it back to the blacks things just got too serious, that shits not going to end well despite what people say and I decided it was time to get back to NZ, see the Whānau and let my littlie see her granddad before he passes away." 

"I man they say its only going to be a bit and not just run everyone out but Zimbabwe is right across the border mate and they said the same things there as well. The government there [meaning SA] is corrupt as and its only interested in staying in power so they will do this and leave the mess for others, like me to keep outta sight." Tutū looked earnest as he said this and as we talked he made it clear that from where he had been in SA it was already a borderline situation and this was only going to push it over the edge.

"People here, on both sides don't know how bloody lucky there are to have the Treaty to keep things going forward" he said, looking at the front door and the crowd of 80s attired hipsters that had just come in. There was a DJ now spinning songs that sounded like they were off the Wedding Singer soundtrack and the dance-floor was filling up as the smoke machine kicked in. "Maori will rise up again and when they do its as one with Pakeha or its utu mate, pure bloody utu! No joke, we gotta do this as one people, all of us or its going to be like there" he said referring to South Africa, "and if its like there then its like there and money ain't going to buy you protection forever."

I was feeling like we were back in those early days when we first met except that it was not revolution he was expounding now but evolution. "I'm proud of the Maori in me but also the Scot as well, you know? But above that all I'm a Kiwi, a New Zealander and I wanna be that over having to define myself by race first. Family and where you come from is important but not when its going to start a war." he was earnestly looking at me and I nodded and let him continue.

"I look at that fucked up shit in South Africa and I just don't want that here but that's where a lotta Maori are going and I saw that in Iraq and SA, just pissed off people, so pissed off that the only option left was to turn to violence and when you are at that level anything can happen." Tutū was speaking as honestly as he always had but now with age and experience behind it, I had to admit it was a hard argument to refute.

Tutū is back in NZ now, living in the North Island and seeing what his options are. His experience in security makes him very employable in some places but not so much in Aotearoa and he is acutely aware that he has to do something with his life but his skill set is great for only one thing. 

We sank one final beer (my fifth, his sixth) as Arcadia wound down, the Friday night rush over and the lights were coming back on, and talked about our futures. My plans are what they have always been, vague and indistinct, but Tutū's got some ideas and the means to make them happen (his time in South Africa was extremely well paid overall) and we joked about those early days at Uni and our plans to change the world.

"Maybe I will go into politics" Tutū said only half jokingly "you wanna be my adviser?" 

I paused for a moment to see if he was really serious and for a second I was looking at the guy I first met over two decades ago at a student demonstration in Christchurch, deadly serious, 100% committed and with a plan to change the world.

Then things flicked back and I was facing a 40 something man who filled his clothes like he had been poured into them but still with the handsome features and winning smile that had made him popular with the ladies when we used to go out drinking and I knew that as much as he would like to stay in NZ and make his home here, he will probably be back overseas sooner or later doing the only things he really knows how to do.

"Sure, I can advise you" I said "and right now I am advising you that we better get the fuck outta here before you have to carry me out, like the old days. Lets get some food and air". Tutū took my advice and we exited into the chilly September night.


Postscript - Two months later as I get this ready to post Tutū is still in NZ and thinking about setting up his own security business in NZ or going to work for one of the local security companies. His wife has found work as a nurse and his daughter is going to a local school and enjoying spending time with her Granddad. He has no plans to go into politics, yet, but knowing him I would not put it past him. Kia Kaha mate, Kia kaha.

*-Army slang from the Vietnam war era which means to get out of there quickly.
**-While not the convoy Tutū was on this video may help readers get an idea of what the situation he was in was like.
***-Or maybe it was just the beer