https://www.heraldgoa.in/Cafe/%E2%80%98So-Quick-The-Deep-Sea-Did-Swallow-Them-All%E2%80%99/197583
Last month, I received an unusual email from Mervyn Maciel, my long-time correspondent (although we have still not met in person). “I don’t know if you are aware that I lost five members of my family when the ship they were returning to East Africa from Goa was torpedoed by the Japanese in November 1942,” wrote the sprightly UK-based 93-year-old, “my father, step-mother and three very young siblings perished. And while there were many survivors, amongst those who lost their lives on this ill-fated ship included young Goan brides on their way to Mombasa, and several other Indian families. Mine, I gather, was the only entire family that was lost.” Maciel pointed me to an article published in *The Eastern Eye*, a publication for and about British Indians, which mentioned the launch of a new website: www.tilawa1942.com. This account by Emile Solanki contained many fascinating details of this almost entirely overlooked incident: “On November 20th, 1942 at 17:00, the British-built ship left Mumbai for South Africa. There were 222 crew members, with 732 passengers, 9 lifeboats, and over 6,000 tons of cargo, including 60 tons of silver bullion. Its route was from Mumbai to South Africa via the Seychelles, Mombasa, and Maputo, ending in Durban. Passengers were mainly Indian nationals.” Here, we must zoom out to understand the geopolitical scenario. World War II was ablaze on multiple fronts. In that same month in 1942, the Americans were surging to victory at Guadalcanal, and (mostly) British troops began their invasion of what had been French North Africa. On November 11, the second battle of El Alamein ended in decisive Allied victory, and two days later General Montgomery seized Tobruk. On November 19, the day before Mervyn Maciel’s family shipped out from Bombay, British troops used gliders to fly into Telemark in Norway to try and sabotage a chemical plant, but failed with 41 casualties, and on November 21, defying all reason, Hitler forbade his severely depleted 6th Army from retreating from Stalingrad. War historians tend to remember November 23 for two important shifts in the balance of power: the Soviet Red Army’s Operation Uranus succeeded in full, with the hapless Germans fully encircled at Stalingrad, and the strategically vital port city of Dakar in what was French West Africa shifted to Allied control. Most accounts also record the German submarine U-172 ambushing and sinking the British merchant ship SS Benlomond off the coast of Brazil (from which wreckage the second steward Poon Lim famously survived 133 days adrift before being rescued).” What has been generally not been remembered is detailed by Solanki: “in the early hours of the morning, 930 miles northeast of the Seychelles, Tilawa was attacked by the Japanese Imperial Army. The I-29 B-1 Submarine, twice torpedoed Tilawa. After the first torpedo attack, the first officer transmitted SOS messages. Unfortunately, little could be done, and once the second torpedo hit the ship sank quickly. For the next 2 days, all aboard would fight for their lives and see their fellow passengers and loved ones drown to death. Eventually, a rescue mission led by a Royal Navy Cruiser HMS Birmingham and S.S. Carthage ensured 682 people were rescued. A total of 280 lives were lost. Those rescued were taken back to Mumbai by November 27th 1942.” Solanki, whose great-grandfather Nichhabhai Chibabhai Solanki drowned in the attack, writes, rather poignantly, that “it is unknown why S.S. Tilawa was sunk in the Indian Ocean. Did the Japanese Imperial Army know there was bullion on the ship, or, did they see the ship as a military threat? Where were HMS Birmingham and S.S. Carthage when Tilawa was attacked? Did the British, Indian, or Japanese Governments hold any classified information, including any communication between these vessels during the attack? It is believed S.S. Tilawa was the only passenger cargo liner attacked in the Indian Ocean during the war. Few know of the incident, yet many families suffered.” Why are some losses remembered and memorialized, while others ignored almost entirely? The short answer, of course, is racism: most of those who died (and all those who kept the torch of memory alive) are of Indian origin. But there’s also the question of post-colonial nationalisms, and the inherently in-between “African Asians” whose life histories tend to fall outside the tendentious, blinkered narratives of nativism. In this regard, Mervyn Maciel’s family and their ilk pose profound conundrums to contemporary simplifiers. Should their deaths be “acknowledged as part of India’s war efforts”, as Alex Gemmel, the British High Commissioner, argued at a memorial last month? Or does that medal belong on the opposite set of chests, because that same deadly Japanese submarine went on to transport Subhas Chandra Bose safely from Madagascar to Tokyo? Here, it’s interesting to note the Tilawa has unexpectedly come back into the news for more than one reason. As reported in *The Times* last month, “the ship’s whereabouts remained a mystery until Ross Hyett, 69, a champion racing driver, set up the London-based Argentum Exploration to locate shipwrecks lying at depths that had previously precluded salvage. The SS Tilawa was found in December 2014 and recovery work began in January 2017. The silver bars, estimated to be worth about £32 million, were shipped to Southampton and declared to the Receiver of Wreck, which oversees salvage law, and are still kept in its secure warehouse.” Much drama ensued, as the “South African government then claimed it had “sovereign” rights over the silver, which meant it was entitled to the bars without having to pay any salvage to Hyett. [But] Lord Justice Popplewell yesterday dismissed the South African government’s claim at the High Court in London, and ruled that the silver was a normal commercial cargo subject to the rules on salvage. The judge said the government had probably “forgotten” about the silver. He added: “The mere passage of time between cargo becoming derelict and the commencement of salvage services does not affect whether it is a recognised subject of salvage. It makes no difference whether it was salved within hours of becoming wreck or after 75 years.” Lots of hubbub about the silver bullion, but nothing much about all the lives that were lost. And so, what has not been salved or salvaged, at least to any level of satisfaction, is the golden heart of my dear friend, Mervyn. Although he went on to have a distinguished career in the Kenya Civil Service - see the excellent memoirs *Bwana Karani* (1985) and *From Mtoto to Mzee* (2014) at www.britishempire.co.uk – he never ceased pushing to memorialize the Tilawa, which finally only happened this year, an unconscionable 80 years after the tragedy occurred. In his initial email to me on this topic last month, he wrote that “memories of the loss of my entire family and many others still haunt me” and shared an anguished poem written by him in 1944, when he was just 15. An excerpt: *He smilingly said,*“*I’ll come back soon” / But we knew not death would call so soon / So sudden God’s summons / So quick the deep sea did swallow them all / O Destiny, No time to say farewell, no time to say ‘wait’ / Death’s cold gatekeeper had opened the gate / And now that he’s gone, we can murmur not / But trust in God for that’s our lot*.