Calgary, July 2022
“It is a small world,” they say, and they are right. The chance meeting with my friend Ríša, whom I didn’t see for more than 30 years, confirmed it. It happened at the University of Calgary’s cafeteria while I was having lunch. I saw a man who looked familiar, and he must have felt my gaze because he turned round, looked at me and shouted: “Ivo!” At the same time, I shouted: “Ríša!” He rushed to my table asking: “What are you doing here?”
“I work here. What about you?”
“The same. I teach geology.”
“I teach computer science.”
I couldn’t believe it. After thirty years, at the opposite side of the globe, we meet again.
“When did we see each other the last time?” he asked.
“I think it was in July 1968 at the Prague Flying Club airstrip. I was flying gliders and you finished you helicopter pilot licence.”
The first time I saw Ríša was in 1961 at the Prague Flying Club, where we met to start our glider training. At that time, we were both at the first year of university. Ríša studied geology and I did physics. But Ríša was also a keen flyer, more so than I. He was at the airstrip every weekend, while I had another time-consuming hobby, rock climbing. Therefore, Ríša progressed much faster than I, and was given the opportunity to learn to fly helicopters. It was the beginning of the Vietnam war, helicopters played a key role, Soviet military command took notice and encouraged the helicopter pilots training. Then, in August 1968 came the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, I have emigrated to England and lost contact with Ríša.
“We must get together to tell our life stories. How about dinner at my place?” I suggested.
“Sure. Just me or should I also bring my wife?”
“Of course you bring your wife. She can talk to my wife when the women get tired of us.”
Therefore, at the given evening, Ríša appeared at my door with an attractive black woman.
“My wife Kamali,” he introduced her.
I introduced my wife; we had drinks and after some small talk Ríša told us his life story.
“Few days after the invasion I went to Austria. It was easy. Everybody was leaving, and somebody gave me a lift. I ended up in the Austrian refugee camp and started to plan my future. With a degree in geology and with a helicopter pilot licence, I was looking for a country where I could use my qualifications. Oil industry needs geologists, Canada has oil, and Calgary is the centre of the Canadian oilpatch. So, it wasn’t too difficult to decide where I want to go. Canadian government was very generous, they helped immigrants with initial accommodations, with language training and they assisted me in moving to Calgary.
The beginning of 1970s was a great time for the oil industry,” continued Ríša. “In 1973 OPEC placed an oil embargo against the nations that had supported Israel during the Yom Kippur War. The price of a barrel of oil jumped from $3 to $15, oil industry was booming and there was plenty of jobs for geologists. Calgary became a boom town, moneys seemed to be growing on trees. At that time, I was working as an exploration geologist for Husky Energy, a large multinational oil company. My job involved a lot of traveling and accessing remote sites by helicopters, and that made me nostalgic for my old flying days. I wanted to continue flying, and with my salary I could afford it.”
“I remember that. In 1973 we moved to Ottawa, and it was the time of the energy crises,” I interrupted. “But by moving to Canada I got three times the salary I was making in England. That allowed me to continue with flying. But you wanted more than just a recreational flying, correct?”
“You are right. I upgraded my Czech licence to the Canadian commercial helicopter pilot licence and then, with about 300 flight hours, became a helicopter instructor. Instructing was a great way to build flight time, but oilpatch was more lucrative, so I didn’t dedicate too much time to aviation. But nothing last forever, and oil boom turned into oil bust. By the early 1980s, too rapid expansion and a world-wide economic recession hit the oil industry hard. The price of a barrel of oil dropped from $37 in 1981 to $14 in 1986, there were massive layoffs, and I lost my job."
“I remember that too,” I interrupted again. People were selling houses for $1, just to get rid of the mortgage. At that time, we already lived in Calgary, but fortunately I wasn’t in the oilpatch. I was teaching at the collage and then at the university.”
"But it wasn’t all bad," continued Ríša. "Now I had all the time I needed to take helicopter flying seriously. I got a type rating for a bigger helicopter and then, with 1000 hours of flight time, I applied for a job with Canadian Helicopters Ltd, a large helicopter services provider. They invited me for an interview, went carefully through my logbooks, arranged for a check ride, and signed me as a contract pilot. They gave me some small jobs like ferrying helicopters and doing scenic flights, and I was also instructing for the old flying school, but then came an opportunity to become a real helicopter pilot. In early 1980s there was a widespread famine in Ethiopia resulting in a huge international humanitarian aid effort. That required helicopter pilots for distributing the food to the remote parts of the country. Canadian Helicopters posted the job opportunities, I applied, was accepted, and in 1985 went to Ethiopia. To see an impoverished, famine-stricken country for a first time was a shock. We were accommodated in Addis Ababa, the capital of the country, and were operating from the old Lideta airport. That’s where I met my wife. At that time there was still some airline traffic there, and she worked in the ticket office. She had a great selection of men available to her, and I still wonder why she had chosen me.”
“You were Canadian, and single, darling,” answered Kamali. “The possibility to leave the hellhole of Addis Ababa was very tempting.”
“Was that all? Nothing more than that?”
“There was something more. You didn’t display the pilot’s ego the other men did. But the escape from Ethiopia played a big part.”
“And you certainly succeeded. I stayed in Ethiopia for one year and it was the first time I was in a long-term relationship with a woman. My previous love affairs never came to anything. With my irregular lifestyle there was never enough time to develop them into something serious. But after one year with Kamali we were married, she had a passport, Canadian visa, and we were both ready to leave Addis Ababa. I had enough of that place.”
Ríša was quiet for a while and then continued. “We returned to Canada in 1986, and I applied for my old job in Husky Energy, but the oil industry was still in a bad shape. I continued flying for Canadian Helicopters and instructing for the flying school, but by the end of 1980s things improved. The demand for geologists increased, Husky Energy rehired me and I cancelled my Canadian Helicopters contracts. I was happy to be back in the oilpatch.
I worked for Husky Energy for ten years. The company was nice to me, they paid for some geology courses to upgrade my qualification and that’s how I became familiar with the University of Calgary. I liked the academic environment, applied for a teaching position, and started to work for U of C in September 2001. I still do part time instructing for the flying school and occasional forest fires flying, but no more big contracts. It’s nice to be able to sleep in my own bed, beside my own wife.”
The dinner was over, we had coffee, and Ríša and I switched to Czech language. The women continued talking in English, undoubtedly complaining about their husbands. We promised to keep in touch, to go for a trip or something like that, and I wonder if it will ever happen.