The Foreign Service Journal, October 2008

D r. Eric Eustace Williams, the Caribbean state of Trinidad and Tobago’s first prime minister, was an outstanding politi- cian, historian, teacher and philoso- pher. He was also a complex person with deeply ambivalent, some would even say hostile, feelings toward the U.S. The 69-year-old leader’s sudden death in office, on March 29, 1981, took virtually everyone by surprise, because it was not preceded by indi- cations of ill health. As the State Department desk offi- cer for Trinidad, following three years in Embassy Port of Spain, I was as startled as anyone. An even bigger jolt awaited me, however, when I returned to the office from lunch early the next day — it was a “Flash” telegram from the embassy. It seems that Prime Minister Williams had directed that his remains be cremated. But the country had no crematory facility, and cremation Hin- du-style, on a pyre along the banks of a local stream as members of Trini- dad’s large ethnic Indian community did, was not feasible for political and cultural reasons. The government sought U.S. assistance in obtaining a “portable crematorium,” which had to be in Trinidad by the end of that week, preferably via the regular Friday Pan American Boeing 747 cargo flight from Miami to Port of Spain’s Piarco Airport. The equipment needed to be gas-fired. In fulfilling my task, I was not to reveal the identity of the deceased nor the country to which the crematory would be shipped. Where to begin? After the Defense Department peo- ple who handle burials explained that the military did not do cremations, I called a local undertaker for advice. The polite, helpful Joseph Gaw- ler’s Sons representative responded kindly that it usually was easier to take the body to the crematorium than the other way around. Unfortunately, not an option in this case, I replied. The firm’s cremations expert ex- plained that crematories were large and heavy pieces of equipment and did not exist in portable versions. But some were smaller than others, he averred, and it might just be possible to find a model that would fit into a Boeing 747. He gave me contact information for several manufactur- ers and wished me luck. One company was near Orlando, Fla. It took some time to convince its incredulous representative that I was serious about obtaining a crematori- um to be sent urgently to an unnamed Caribbean country for the cremation of an anonymous dignitary. It turned out that his firm had a rel- atively small gas unit that had just come off the production line, had been “test fired” and was ready for shipment to a customer in Michigan. The dimensions were such that it could just squeeze through the load- ing door of a Boeing 747 cargo plane, and it could be diverted if I could ensure that it would be paid for promptly. I was ready for that one and gave him a name and phone number at the New York offices of Trintoc, a state-owned Trinidad oil company. Subsequent phone calls established that a deal was concluded. Mission accomplished, I thought; but not quite the end of the story. In September 1987, while serv- ing in Sofia, I happened to strike up a conversation with a congressional delegation’s military escort. The Air Force colonel asked casually where I had served and perked up when I mentioned Trinidad. He had been employed in the early 1980s in New York by British West Indian Airways, Trinidad’s national carrier, he said. Did he know anything about the air shipment of a crematory from Miami to Port of Spain? I asked. Did he ever! The colonel had been sent to Miami by the Trinidadians to ensure that the crematory was shipped safely and on time. In fact, the truck from the factory had reached Miami Airport two hours late, and he had done everything in his power to get Pan Am to delay the flight. Loading the equipment safely onto the plane had been challenging, but the aircraft eventually took off with its precious cargo, he recounted. How startling to meet by chance six years later, in Sofia, and share the details of an unusual diplomatic mission in which we’d both — un- known to each other — played lead- ing roles. n Jonathan Rickert is a retired Senior Foreign Service officer, whose 35- year career culminated in tours as DCM to Sofia and then Bucharest, and as director for the Office of North Central European Affairs. 88 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / O C T O B E R 2 0 0 8 R EFLECTIONS Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes B Y J ONATHAN R ICKERT