The Helicopter Story
From the Memoirs of Rav Moshe Fhima
Today’s story takes place in Belarus, and obviously, we are going to have to change the names of the people and the places. Or maybe it is better if I just leave them out altogether. In the last story I talked about how people have learned to deal with the rather crushing bureaucracy here in Belarus and about how good they had become in getting around rules to get what they need. Today’s story is an illustration of how good the administrative side was at finding ways to catch to the people they are interested in.
This story takes place in February 2001. We were in business. The school was up and running and we were in the middle of our first year of operation with the school. As I mentioned in a previous story, we had had a somewhat difficult time with the local authorities attaining the documents we needed and such. But in addition to those trials, we also ran up against a sometimes odd set of regulations that were making our job of re-installing the elements of the Jewish way of life to our charges more difficult.
One such regulation was that there was a law that we were not allowed to make circumcisions here in Belarus. But you know we had all of these kids coming to us from various cities, and since many of them had not been circumcised we rented a place that was deep in the forest where we could perform these rights.
Well, at the time, along with the doctors we found who would do the circumcisions, we also had four guests at that time, potential sponsors from the United States, and they came out with us to be with us and to participate in the bris. The four Americans were impressed by the lengths we were willing to go to but thought it odd that we would have to go to so much trouble. In retrospect though, I see now that a conversation I had with one of these businessmen during the ritual was rather prophetic. He had asked me if all of this cloak and dagger running around was really necessary. “Are the KGB still active in Belarus?” I told him that I was sure that we had our listeners but in general, so far Baruch Hashem, we have not been handled too poorly.” And of course, these were also prophetic words as we would find out all too soon.
The next day, we had planned an excursion for these guys to go and have a look at Belarus. However, being “big businessmen”, they had decided that they wanted to do this touring by helicopter. Now, as you can imagine, with Belarus and its bureaucracy being the way that it is, how interesting gaining access to a helicopter had been and it had taken the better part of two weeks just to get all of the permissions necessary to even get a helicopter. But eventually with perseverance, we got the final document from the Ministry of Aviation and with it we gained the local KGB’s permission to fly.
The planned rout was as follows: Pinsk…… to Baranovichi, from Baranovichi to Mir, Mir to Valozhin, Radin, down to Volcovits and arriving back to Pinsk…… in the evening. All in all a nice day of flying and sight seeing, if not for the cold weather and not and wind from the helicopter.
All began well enough. The flight from Pinsk to Baranovichi was pleasant and so was the leg over to Mir. However, when we were heading for our landing in Mir, we heard some rather agitated voices coming to us over our radio telling us not to move because “they” were coming. And all of a sudden the helicopter was surrounded by various army and police officers.
“Who are you to be flying around the country as if you owned the place?” We opened our papers showing them that all was in order, and explained that we were only tourists having a look around. But they just shook their heads and told us that they would have to find out what to do with us. This wan an entirely unusual situation and they would get to the bottom of it.
Their looking for what to do next took most of four hours and when they still had not come up with any real reason for harassing us, we finally convinced them they we were serious about wanting to get on with our flight (and that we had no intensions of paying them a penny for holding us). However, this was February which meant that the days were short and therefore the only place left that we could get to before darkness set in was to Radin. So that was what we decided to do.
And again the scenery was nice and the flight was interesting, and especially so when we noticed that they were shooting up flares at us in Radin.
“What’s going on?” We asked the pilot nervously.
“Everybody knows what this means. It means we have to land immediately.”
“You’ve got to be joking…” He wasn’t. And this time, as soon as we were on the ground we saw that the tactical squad, complete with Kalashnikov machine guns were was coming at us from five different directions at once and immediately surrounded the helicopter. They at first started in screaming at us to identify the head of the group. Our four American tourists were out of their minds with fear and did not even understand the questions they were being asked. I raised my hand to say that I was the one in charge and a handcuff was closed around the wrist.
“Listen, what is this all about?” This was asked as we were being rushed forcefully toward an official looking building.
“We are arresting you for spying on the Republic of Belarus.”
“You are arresting us for spying?”
“We know you are a spy because you flew over several military bases.”
“Listen, I am not a pilot, I’m a Rabbi! I am only a traveler here. What do you think you are doing?”
“Are you the one who booked the tour?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is your fault.”
“What is my fault?” At the moment, nothing more was said.
I was rushed into a cell in which you could neither stand nor sit. After an hour we found out that they had no interest in my American guests and they were all let go. After a few minutes of talk, my guests came to me and mentioned that though they were very sorry for all that had happened, they really needed to be on their plane the next day back to the states and so they felt that they really ought be going. So I got one of the guards to agree to let me use my phone and I called and arranged for them a car.
After the phone call we said our goodbyes and that was the last I heard from them for the next three days until they were back in America. Several hours later the interrogation started.
At first was a series of questions about my business in Belarus, about the school, about the helicopter, etc. And the high point was when this “intelligence officer” held up by cell phone as proof of my being in disguise.
“And what is this then?” I don’t know why he would think that having a cell phone automatically meant that I was a spy and I was about to tell him this when G-d gave me a better answer. By the way, this was one of the old style phones that looked like a little suitcase that had just started operating at the time in Belarus.
“All right,” I said, “you’ve got me red-handed. Setting up a Jewish school in Belarus was all just a complicated ruse that would eventually allow me the chance to get up in the air with a helicopter. But let me tell you that you’ve got big trouble coming because that phone is actually connected to an electronic chip I’ve got stuck up here in my right forearm. This chip is hardwired straight to my brain and if I push the button right here below my elbow, the British embassy will know exactly where I am. And, if I do not check in within 24 hours, they will track me by satellite. And if they find out where I am, well, you know that’s it.”
Now, I really can’t imagine that they would believe this ridiculous story but in any case, this answer got them all to thinking and I could see that everyone became rather nervous. And for sure they were now out of whatever original plan they had for me. However, it did not get me released.
Every hour or so they would come to me with a protocol and ask me to sign it. The paper stated that I admitted I was a British spy and that I understood how this was against the laws of the Republic of Belarus.
“Ok,” I said to them, “I realize that I am only in Belarus six months but I am not a kid. I am certainly not scared of you, there is no way I am going to sign any of these crazy documents and if the truth be told I have always wanted to be in a Russian jail and so thank you for the chance.”
They were obviously not expecting this for an answer either.
Well they feed you in jail, but the meal I got was this ghoulish bowl of kasha, and there was no possible way it could have been even edible much less kosher, so I told them they could keep it for themselves. After 13 hours or so my brain was getting a little wavy from all of the not standing and not sitting and so I asked them for a chess set telling them I was a great chess player. So I guess they thought that this would keep me busy so they sent some of their lousy players over and I beat all of them.
As the 22 hour’s mark was approaching, I was beginning to suspect that the thought of the forearm chip and the British embassy was starting to weigh on their minds or perhaps they were just getting to the end of the twenty-four hour track that they had me on (no, they don’t tell you anything), and one of them approached me and told me that if I was to give them a thousand dollars, they would let me go free. I just laughed at him.
Sorry friend, there will be no thousand-dollar deal: I am here to see the jail and I am not going to pay you a nickel. In fact, you should pay me the thousand dollars.”
They didn’t smile at all. “And what is more, I know you, I know your tactics: If I was to offer you any money, you would just turn around and say I tried to bribe you because I really was a British spy. No, I am sorry I am just going to sit here until there is a court case. And besides,” I looked at my watch, “it will be only a few hours until the British embassy in here and then… well, I can’t say any more.”
After 24 hours they had begun to come in with a protocol every 15 minutes or so. Only now they were starting to grasp a bit at straws asking if there was anything that could be done, any deal that could be made to end this standoff.
“Not a cent.”
“Ok, maybe $500…”
“Not a cent.”
“A hundred?”
Finally at the 27 hour mark they came in and told me that I was being released. “By the way,” the head man asked, “when are the British coming?” I guess they had noticed the time.
“Well what do you expect? Do you think they can make the distance from London to Radin, Belarus in only three hours?”
Anyway, I was free. From there I took a car down to Volkovits and took a room in the first hotel I found, just to get some sleep before I headed back home. I got my room, headed upstairs, washed my face and lay down on the bed. And I had not closed my eyes more than ten minutes before there was a knock on the door.
“Open the door, it is the KGB.”
“Oh, you have got to be joking” I opened the door and they came in.
“Alright, we now know that you ARE in fact a British spy.”
“What on earth are you talking about? I was just freed an hour or so ago.”
“No you weren’t. It is now in all the newspapers and television news and they have caught a British spy. And your name is the same as his and you are British, so come a long for questioning.”
So, after another couple of hours of questions, left right and center, I suppose they realized that they had in no way caught any kind of a foreign spy. So I of course asked them to just let me go already.
However, they simply couldn’t let things go like this. They told me the decision was that I was officially under their supervision but they were now going to transfer me to Pinsk ….. So, what can you say? At least the police gave me a free ride back home. In Pinsk …. I was delivered to the head police officer who took away my passport and told me I was not allowed to leave Pinsk town for three months, until such time as we get your case cleared up.
Obviously feeling more than a little assaulted I decided to call the British embassy (through the phone, not my elbow) and, being the British embassy, after they had gotten over their fit of laughter, they advised me that I knew where I was and that I should be grateful that nothing had happened. End of phone call.
And so that is the story. And being a believer in learning from my experiences, this was also the last time I thought to go helicoptering in Belarus.
And so this is the end of the story except for one thing: Remembering that I still owed money to the helicopter company, I called two weeks later and was told that the helicopter had only been released a week ago and that the same pilot who had flown with us had just crashed with it near Baranovichi. And so no, if I was interested in doing some more flying, I would have to go elsewhere because at the moment the company was on vacation because at the moment, they had hadn’t either their helicopter or the pilot to fly it.