Is Iran next? It’s no longer just the comics saying the US plan for disengagement from Iraq is to attack Iran. Former Marine and UNSCOM weapons inspector Scott Ritter told an audience on 18 February his President has approved orders for an aerial attack on fledgling-democracy Iran in June this year, according to a report from Washington.
Perhaps it’s not true. But the lies told by George II and Anthony Blair about Iraq make it sickeningly plausible. Is Iran next?
The rumour is worrying enough that Our World, Our Say (OWOS), the movement that led the demand for a public inquiry into our invasion of Iraq, is trying to raise £10,000 by 5pm today for newspaper ads demanding our government promises not to join an American attack on Iran, Syria or any other countries the neo-cons have noticed in the region.
George II recently denied the US plans to attack Iran. Here, from OWOS, is the full text.
And finally, this notion that the United States is getting ready to attack Iran is simply ridiculous. And having said that, all options are on the table. (Laughter) George W. Bush 22 Feb 2005
Artisans & industrialism Eric Gill argued that craft production methods suit craftsmen, who should not use industrial methods. Something similar goes for writing software without an industrial ‘methodology’.
However nearly complete the victory of mechanised industry may be, it can never obliterate the fact of human responsibility, & there will always be many who will choose to be masters of their own work & in their own workshops rather than masters of other men working under sub-human conditions, that is to say conditions which deny them intellectual responsibility.¶ There are, then, two worlds & these twain can never be one flesh. They are not complementary to one another; they are, in the liveliest sense of the words, mortal enemies. On the one hand is the world of mechanised industry claiming to be able to give happiness to men and all the delights of human life — provided we are content to have them in our spare time and do not demand such things in the work by which we earn our livings; a world regulated by the factory whistle and the mechanical time-keeper; a world wherein no man makes the whole of anything, wherein the product is standardised and the man simply a tool, a tooth on a wheel. On the other is the languishing but indestructible world of the small shopkeeper, the small workshop, the studio and the consulting room — a world in which the notion of spare time hardly exists, for the thing is hardly known and very little desired; a world wherein the work is the life & love accompanies it.
Eric Gill, An Essay on Typography, 1931
From: Patrick Lees
Sent: 01 March 2005 09:51
Subject: RE: Journeyman Craftsmen v Hack Carvers
Continuing the analogy: Eric Gill in his autobiography writes as follows.
What kind of lettering was good lettering, the right kind to be done, and what technique and social conditions were suitable for its production? I have explained at some length the line of thought provoked by three years in an architect’s office, and the revolt against the common architectural method of providing measured drawings of everything — even full-size drawings of carving. Obviously I did not become a lettercutter and monumental mason in order to become one of the hack carvers who follow architect’s ‘details’. My chief claim to support was that I could relieve the architect of the necessity of supplying drawings in connection with one craft at least. But such a claim depended upon my ability to give them something better than they could get otherwise.
Eric Gill, Autobiography, London, Jonathan Cape 1940
The analogy has strong foundations: the pioneer American psychologist William James, brother of Henry (himself no stranger to the elaborate metaphor) wrote as follows.
The mind, in short, works on the data it receives very much as a sculptor works on his block of stone. In a sense the statue stood there from eternity. But there were a thousand different ones beside it, and the sculptor alone is to thank for having extricated this from the rest. Just so the world of each of us, howsoever different our several views of it may be, all lay embedded in the primordial chaos of sensations, which gave the mere matter to the thought of all of us indifferently. We may, if we like, by our reasonings unwind things back to that black and jointless continuity of space and moving clouds of swarming atoms which science calls the only real world. But all the while the world we feel and live in will be that which our ancestors and we, by slowly cumulative strokes of choice, have extricated out of this, like sculptors, by simply rejecting certain portions of the given stuff. Other sculptors, other statues from the same stone! Other minds, other worlds from the same monotonous and inexpressive chaos! My world is but one in a million alike embedded, alike real to those who may abstract them. How different must be the worlds in the consciousness of ant, cuttle-fish or crab!
William James, The Principles of Psychology, London, MacMillan, 1890
Patrick F. Lees
Chair of the Department of Information Systems
Cavendish School of Computer Science
The University of Westminster
Su To Waterloo last night with Arthur Whitney & Janet Lustgarten, or what was left of them after an intensive week visiting their London customers. Ray & Wendy Cannon, Clara Inez Diaz and Caroline Mawer joined us for dinner before we went dancing at this month’s Istanbul Nights: the UK launch party for Su, the new Mercan Dede CD, a blend of Sufi and contemporary dance music. Promoters Sebastian & Aysegül of Doublemoon Records again made everyone welcome as we danced our socks off. In Turkish su means water: we drank lots of this.
Where are the antivirals? Simmering behind the passing news headlines is the biggest story of the new century. The next ’flu pandemic is well and truly due by now. WHO estimates of the probable death toll start at 7 million as a best case, with other estimates passing the 50 million mark. We should be stocking antivirals; we’re not.
Julia in Africa Another dispatch from the Dark Continent, where Julia Davies celebrated her fortieth birthday. Many happy ones, Julia … every year a triumph over entropy!
15th January
Majete National Park, Malawi
You cannot help but fall in love with Mozambique - but it is a love/hate relationship. We arrived in Quelimane and walked about half a mile to Mark and Zina's house and by the time we arrived we both felt as though we were going to pass out from the heat. We stood in their kitchen and I drank 6 glasses of water straight down. We later discovered that it was 44 degrees that day! Mark and Zina are very old friends of Pierre's. They are on a 2 year contract with Skill Share. Mark is an advisor for the fishing communities in the district of Zambezia and Zina looks after their 2 ½ year old son, Floyd. I immediately liked the whole family - which is great because we stayed with them for 7 ½ weeks in all! Floyd is very lively and a lot of fun but you really know he's there! He loved having 2 playmates to get up to stuff with and we were greeted by a big beaming smile when we got up every morning.
We stayed for 3 days in Quelimane before setting off on holiday to the beach. We explored a bit and discovered the charm and horror of the town (more of that later). It was lovely getting to know Mark, Zina and Floyd - we had a lot of fun together. The night before we were due to go off on holiday I got food poisoning and spent a very unpleasant night with my head in a bucket. We had to get up for the bus at 3 and at that point I could hardly stand, let alone get on a bus. Fortunately my body got the message that we had to leave and got rid of anything else that was stopping me getting on the bus very promptly!! So off we went on a 16 hour trip southwards through Mozambique. I felt absolutely dreadful and managed to sleep most of the day - which is quite a feat on a Mozambique bus! There is a lively point in the journey where you have to cross the Zambezi on a huge pontoon along with buses, lorries, cars, foot passengers, bicycles, goats and chickens…. (This whole trip we have followed the Zambezi from near its source in north-western Zambia to Livingstone and now to near it's estuary in Mozambique. The river at this point is absolutely vast, particularly at this time of year due to the rains). We also passed through the Beira corridor, which was one of the main war zones as it was a trade passage out of Mozambique. You see a lot of damaged and deserted buildings, although the villages have recovered any visible damage. The country is very political and we arrived in the run-up to the elections. Every day we would see big groups of people singing political songs through the streets. There seemed to be a huge amount of political activity, although in the end only 20% of the population voted. This seems strange because even tiny villages were very active, plastered in banners, posters and t-shirts of their Party everywhere.
We arrived in Vilanculos late that night. This is a small town down the coast opposite the Bazaruto Islands. It's a tropical paradise and it was a complete treat to stay there for 3 weeks. I already filled you in on the surroundings there in my 3rd letter - it was fantastic and we were able to have a good rest, reading, snoozing (to catch up from very short nights, swimming, sailing (we had a catamaran and a dow at our disposal), walking along the beach, wandering into town for errands, cooking great fish on the barbeque (or brie as it is called by the many South Africans and Zimbabweans that you meet in much of Africa), diving, watching movies, watching the stars and generally having a very relaxing time. My eczema completely cleared up with the salt water for the first time in 3 years! I also had a breakthrough in reading and have now read 2 ½ books - I have only read bits of books for the last 7 years, so this is a great achievement for me!
A couple of bad things happened whilst in Vilanculos; Firstly Pierre ended the relationship. I was not at all happy about this and it seemed utterly ridiculous since we get on so well, but I have since decided to not let it ruin my time out here and to get on with having a great time - that seems to be working, although it is mainly the reason why you didn't hear from me for a while. It knocked me off my feet and I just needed a bit of recovery time. Also Pierre got a fungal infection in his feet which got very infected (the problem with a tropical climate is that absolutely everything grows very prolifically; crops, flowers, trees, infections and diseases…). It got so bad that he went to a clinic and they told him it was Filaria (a worm) and gave him medication and foot baths. I was sure that it was a fungus but bowed to the knowledge of the doctor. The problem persisted, forcing Pierre to keep his feet up for 3 weeks until he went again to the doctor in Quelimane who announced that it was in fact a fungal infection and he needed foot baths and antibiotics to fix it! Anyway that treatment worked just fine and Pierre is now fit and well.
We stayed a couple of days longer than Mark, Zina and Floyd as we wanted to return to Quelimane via Beira. The cities in Mozambique all have an old Portuguese colonial influence in the architecture, which is often very charming (although decaying) and Beira is reputedly the finest example of this. It is also a Renamo town (the opposition) and the government has therefore not put any money in there for a long time - no road maintenance, no road drains, no refuse collection etc. As this is the rainy season this means that all the HUGE potholes get filled with water and it is absolutely filthy. However, in spite of all this there is a real charm to the place. We went to a restaurant that had remained in the 60's, deeply entrenched in colonialism - 7 men worked in an empty restaurant, the décor of which offended each style of 60's design by throwing it all together and leaving it to fade and crumble for 40 years. They all wore uniforms that were completely the wrong size for each of them and just looked so out of place. The service, as so often here, involves a lot of bowing and scraping- it doesn't matter how you behave, as a white person you always fit into the category that warrants that treatment and you can't get out of it. The slave mentality is very deeply ingrained. It's very sad. Anyway, the fish was fantastic in the restaurant. We spent a couple of pleasant days wandering around the city.
One place that really stays with us was the city prison. This is a compact 3 storey building in the centre of the city, surrounded only by a small wall. The prisoners are crammed together in tiny cells and there are only metal grill windows for air, in spite of intense heat. They hang on the windows calling out at you and as you walk past you are hit with the stench of vomit and faeces. It reminded me of descriptions of the old 17th century lunatic asylums. People are treated like animals (and they treat animals appallingly here).
In Africa it is wise to never go out after dark unless you take a taxi. We had kept to that rule and been very careful, both day and night, without any problems. In Beira we were staying near the central square, it was very busy and there were many people around at all times, so on the 2nd night we headed off to the restaurant and were mugged by 5 men at knife point. We should have known better and are no worse off for it, except that Pierre lost 50 euros and some personal items. The whole experience was over in a few moments and the 5 men walked off very casually, confident that no-one would come after them. It is a lawless society where the police have no power - or funding - to do anything. Off we went to the police station and you have never seen such a pathetic impoverished sight! They had a desk and a few pieces of paper and you could tell by their nonchalance that they were utterly powerless. We spent an hour and a half trying to get a written statement out of them for Pierre's insurance. They insisted that they could not do this but we eventually won through. Everyone has been quite amazed (myself included) at my ability to communicate in Portuguese! I just cobble together some bits of Spanish, Italian, French and Portuguese that I have picked up and manage to get myself understood when I need to!
Mozambique always brings a huge hassle value. They try to rip you off, more than anywhere else we have been, and they are a nation of hustlers… they cling to you as you walk down the street or do your shopping always wanting money. They see white skin and they just stick to you. When I was in the market in Vilanculos 5 men were following me around and when I reached the place I wanted to buy something they all fought over who's property I was, claiming their percentage of the final sale - which is simply added onto the price! It's pretty annoying since I know where I want to go and what I want to buy and certainly don't nee d their 'help'! Anyway, every cab ride or purchase of any kind involves a big argument. It's not like other African countries where you barter and agree on a price. There is always a big upset about it - even when you know that you are still paying way over the going rate.
Anyway, off we went at 4am the next morning on the long journey back to Quelimane, glad to be leaving Beira. The journey was another 12 hours and along the way I began to feel decidedly ill. I thought it was just the extreme heat and the trauma of the night before but I was shivery, with a storming headache and just could not keep my eyes open. I fell asleep in the chair when we arrived back in Quelimane in a comatose state. The next morning it was clear that I had a fever and stayed in bed. It became clear from my symptoms that I had malaria and we went to the hospital to get treatment. I was very ill for 4 days with the highest fever I have had in my life - it felt as if my brain was melting. Malaria is like the worst flu you could ever imagine, very high fever and a headache from hell - I don't recommend it. Anyway, the fever finally passed after a very bad night and I seemed to be better, although weak. I took it very gently for a few days but found that the weakness and headaches persisted. I had had a malaria test to check that I was clear so I thought it was the extreme heat that made me so lethargic, but finally on New Years Day Zina and I went back to the hospital. We sat in a queue for a long time and watched dying people being brought in. It was the saddest sight - and they probably had aids. There is still a big taboo on aids inspite of all the education that is attempted here. Most of the time people never admit to having aids (or simply die undiagnosed) but say they died of TB or some other aids related disease- this perpetuates the myth. 50% of people in these countries have aids - there is a huge impact on society - you see people withering away all the time.
23rd January 2005
Majete, Malawi
Anyway, the doctor said that I had been prescribed the wrong drugs to get rid if the Malaria and that I still had it, so a new round of drugs and I immediately started to feel better. However, I had wasted 3 weeks lethargically sitting flopped in a chair! Welcome to 2005!
Christmas was spent at Mark and Zina's. We spent the whole day cooking and had a huge feast for 16 people. New Year was also spent at their house with a smaller group of friends. We had fun. It's pretty weird spending Christmas is a boiling hot environment. Christmas trees and decos look very strange!
26th January 2005
Majete, Malawi
We were due to leave Mozambique on the 3rd of January but we decided to postpone the trip until we were properly recovered. So, on the 7th we set off back to Malawi. We were very sad to leave Mark, Zina and Floyd as it had been really fantastic staying with them. We created a cabaret on the last night, which was utterly hilarious. They had decided to take us to Mocuba on the first leg of our journey back to Blantyre and had planned a special detour to a beautiful lake. It was very sweet of them to do that but the parting was very, very sad. Pierre and I took a walk around Mocuba in the scorching heat and then wandered to a bar to get some food. It was another of those faded post colonial experiences. Mocuba, like Beira, is also a Renamo town and falling apart. There is a lot of evidence of the war there. We stayed in the same pensao and got up at 4am the next morning to get on the chappa. We were both dredding the ride due to our previous experience but we paid a bit more money to go in the cab, 2 of us sitting on one seat, which ended up being way more comfortable than the last time and the journey took 3 ½ hours rather than the 8 1/2 before! Much better. The first hour was still nuts because someone had forgotten his money so the driver threw everyone off on the side of the road, drove at 100km per hour to the mans' house and let him get his money! We drove off and waited for about half an hour on the side of the road (wondering what on earth was going on). Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the 20 people who we had dropped at the side of the road, chickens, bicycles, babies and all reappeared and off we went! We arrived back in Milange, Mozambique and were immediately mobbed by about 50 money changers and bicycle taxis. We were completely surrounded and struggling to get our luggage out of the chappa. I was passing bags to Pierre across the sea of people and hands were grabbing them. We struggled to free ourselves and our bags and 4 bicycles, everyone shouting to get our business. I stopped suddenly to count the bags and realised the Pierre's boots were missing. We stood there in the middle of the street, in the blazing sunshine, surrounded by 50 bicycles and people kicking up a real fuss about these boots. Part of it was real upset at having the boots stolen and part was the knowledge that if we made a loud enough fuss and caught enough attention then someone would know someone who took them….. Eventually Pierre declared very loudly that he would offer money in return for the boots, knowing that they would be sold for about 5 UK pounds on the market. A complete circus ensued and we went to the market police and then headed off to the regular police, followed by the crowd. Then suddenly someone appeared and said that he thought he had 'found' them - what a surprise. 'Give me money and I will give you the boots'. Pierre was about to hand over the money when I said 'No, you give us the boots and we will give you the money'. So, the man disappeared and came back with one boot. 'Now you give the money'… We agreed to lodge the money with a third party who would stay there with us (who we had met on our previous trip there) and eventually the 2nd boot appeared. The whole thing was such a farce! Off we set, followed still by the crowd of hustlers, and we got on the bicycle taxis to cross the no mans land and borders. The Mozambican police were bored so they decided to go through all our belongings in great detail - this too was a farce because it was incredibly half hearted. If I'd had drugs hidden they'd never have found them! So too the whole procedure at the Malawian border with a whole renegotiation by the bicycle taxis thrown in - demanding more money and forgetting the deal we had made. Anyway we crossed the border with not a single Metical left - which is what we had planned - and then the next round of mobbing began for the minibus to Blantyre. That sorted and our luggage squashed in the back with a miraculous feat of strength we set off along the beautiful road back to Blantyre.
We headed straight for Doogles, the backpackers lodge, and then off to town to do some much delayed e-mailing. My e-mail had not been working in Mozambique, (poor or faulty connections, computers going down, no connection at all) in spite of several attempts to send messages. I was getting rather frustrated and with a better connection in Malawi I discovered that my account had been locked! All very annoying. We tried again the next day - all to no avail. We waited in a café (run by an old Italian who told us his life story) drinking real Italian coffee until Jason and Astrid came to pick us up. Off we set for Majete Wildlife Game Reserve……..
31st January 2005
Majete, Malawi
Off we set to the Park from Blantyre. The journey was absolutely stunning, through fields and villages. The valley then drops steeply on the left of the road and we could see that every inch of the hills are cultivated; green, green, green with red soil and red brick huts. The winding road led us to the top of the escarpment that leads down a very steep, twisting road into the Shire Valley (pronounced Sheeree - typical Malawian pronunciation - everything seems to end in ee) and no, we are not living with hobbits….! Below us lay the wide, flat valley and on the other side, more mountains - that is the Park. It was incredibly beautiful and we were lucky to see it for the first time on a gorgeous, clear day. As we came into the valley we passed through a village and then travelled along a long, flat stretch of road to a very small town called Chikwawa. That is the closest 'town' to Majete. We turned off the nice tarmac road (ah, bliss) and headed down a gravel track for 19km to the Park (not so bliss). The scenery was amazing as we travelled with the river and mountains on our right [? left], fields and trees to our right. And finally, after and hour and a half we came to the Majete office. This is called Mathithi Camp. There are workshops, an office, storage containers and scout huts there. All the scouts live there with their families, so there is quite a little community. Then we headed off into the Park where our camp is situated. We travelled along 4km of rough road and there, in a beautiful clearing is the camp…. It consists of 4 fabulous safari 'tents' and a kitchen building. The staff houses are in another clearing about 100m away. They are also building a thatched building for eating and sitting - this should be finished in a month but in the meantime we eat in one of the 'tents'. The 'tents' almost cannot be called tents - they are raised rectangular structures on concrete platforms made of thick canvas and a double awning to protect from rain, with a wooden deck at the front with some wicker armchairs. The main room is about 3 1/2 metres wide by 7metres long. At the back is a bathroom (bigger than mine at home!) with a bath, power shower, sink and loo. Everything is properly plumbed and we even have a boiler for hot water. We were amazed!! The camp has been built to be sold off as a concession for a safari camp once the personnel houses have been completed. The joke is that it's been dubbed 'the Tiwali Luxury Camp'.
There are 3 people running Majete; Michiel (29), the Park Manager who is Dutch but brought up in Malawi and Zimbabwe; Jason (23), the Technical Co-ordinator who is Zimbabwean; and his girlfriend, Astrid (26) a Dutch woman who runs the office. There are 19 scouts who patrol the park, checking up on animals and catching poachers (very successfully); drivers, handy men, storekeepers, 20 labourers and many casual labourers who are employed as and when they are needed. The Park has been managed by African Parks for 2 years now and they are rebuilding stocks of animals, building roads, fences, and generally preparing for the days when they will be fully open to the public. People can visit at the moment but the stocks of animals need to build up more for tourism to really take off. They are hoping for a hundred elephants here this year! This takes a lot of preparation but they need the big grazers as everything grows so vehemently. This will also help with sighting the animals as they are very difficult to see in the long grass.
The Park is absolutely beautiful, set on the banks of the Shire River, with many smaller rivers running through the park into it. It has many aspects and changes from peaceful pastures to steep rocks and hills. We often all bundle into a safari vehicle at the weekends and head off for game drives. It's great. There are buffalo, 2 rhino, hyena, many types of antelope (Eland, Duiker, Nyala, Impala, Waterbuck, Reedbuck, Klipspringer, Bushbuck, Grysbok, Hartebeest, Kudu and Sable), zebra, bush pigs, warthogs, leopard, crocs, baboon, little monkeys and hippo. There are many, many birds of all shapes, sizes and colours, plus, of course, the true African selection of reptiles, spiders and bugs.
The view from the hut is gorgeous - trees and tall grasses. About 100 metres away is a water hole where animals come to drink. It is very peaceful and really in the middle of nowhere, right in the park. I say peaceful, although there is a tremendous amount of noise from all the wildlife at all times of day and night. Sitting in the tent we always hear a lot of scurrying from all the lizards and geckos and sometimes something that's a bit more of a surprise, like a big spider or one night we found a big toad in the bathroom, making a real racket! The birds make an almighty hulabaloo too and occasionally something bigger wakes us up in the night. However, the bigger animals tend to keep well away from people, since they are very shy, not like the animals in South Luangwa who are used to safari vehicles passing through at all times - these ones really are wild.
It's taken me a while to settle into my new habitat, particularly the walk to the dinner tent in the dark. There are paths cut in the grass but you never know what you might meet. There are green mambas and puff adders (along with many other things) around, so one doesn't go wandering into the long grass! You have to be pretty vigilant wherever you walk but as long as you are sensible, you are pretty safe. I frequently walk to the office along the 4km road and have to keep an eye out for buffalo and rhino. It's unlikely that I will meet any because they graze on the other side of the park, but they still wander over here from time to time and then the only course of action is to climb a tree! I have walked a few times alone and I have to admit that I'm a bit scared. I have checked out the trees and there are some that I could climb and some that I definitely could not…. Anyway, there may be a boomslang or a black mamba up there which could do me just as much damage as an angry buffalo!
It's funny to face fear like this - in England I have been afraid of many things but not often of real physical things - like a rhino! When I was in Israel I wasn't afraid of the leopards or flash floods, which were real physical dangers that I faced. Perhaps my foot incident has made me more cautious, or perhaps it's my age!
We rise at 6am and after a quick cup of tea we head off to the office, work for and hour or two and then head back to camp for breakfast. We are taken care of by Chiko, Ambrose and James. Chiko is cook and house boy (cleaner), Ambrose is the gardener and James washes and irons the clothes. I've never been so well taken care of in my life!! (except by my mum, of course!) They say I don't even need to make my bed - but I can't bring myself to not do that! There was Davis too, who was the cook, but after the last pay day he disappeared in the middle of the night! After a leisurely breakfast we head back to the office until 12.30 or 1 o'clock, head back for a leisurely lunch and then back to the office for the afternoon. Supper is early and we head back to the tent around 8pm. Pierre and I then play chess or backgammon or read. We tried to write letters on the computer but there are tiny bugs that climb through the mossie net and are really bothersome, it makes it too unpleasant - so that activity has been binned. The generator goes off at 8.30 or 9pm and we read until we fall asleep. I tend to sleep pretty soon after the generator stops unless we are gripped by a slow death of chess - so I get 9 hours of sleep and I LOVE it! I haven't slept so much in years and anyway, I figure that it's a luxury that is unlikely to continue when I return to England…..
There is not a lot of work on at the moment. It's the quietest time of year due to the rains and the heat. The hottest it's been since we've been here is an extremely humid 39 degrees. The most rain we had in a day was 91mm. Once we had 26mm in half an hour. The weather changes constantly, so you never know what will happen - even less predictable than England.
Astrid and Jason are going off shortly for a month to Ethiopia, to help set up a new African Parks project there. I am therefore being trained to run the office whilst Astrid is gone, including all the wages, accounts and shopping for the camp. I have been learning about Malawian tax - which is a completely crazy system but caters for people earning ridiculously small amounts of money. Some earn less than 1.50 pounds per month. A very good wage is about 20 pounds per month. (Malawian politics are a real mess and Malawians are becoming poorer).
Last week we did the wages - it was a good way to meet all the workers, by handing out their money. They had to sign for it and I was amazed how difficult it was for many of them to even write their name. Several could not even do that (schooling had to be paid for until recently and many people could not afford it. Now education has suddenly become free which has caused a huge schooling crisis - too many children and not enough teachers or classrooms, so actually, educational standards have dropped). We also handed out new company clothing - orange, green or blue overalls, gum boots and bright yellow Macintoshes. This was quite an hilarious affair as they all kept lying about their boot size because they saw that we had run out of size 8. They were afraid that they then wouldn't get any and so preferred to lie about their shoe size and have any pair of boots rather than risk not getting any, even though we had told them that there would be more next week. The next day, they all looked very pleased with their new outfits.
1st February 2005
This morning I got up early to start work at six and learn the month-end accounts. It all happened in the space of an hour, as with most of what I have been learning, so I'm just hoping everything has sunk in and I don't mess it up next month. It's not complicated but there are a million details to remember! It's a grey day and there is not much for me to do so I have decided to write again.
The jobs I have done so far (apart from learning the accounts) include; entering GPS (Global Positioning System) data into the computer. This is quite interesting because I get an idea of what all the scouts get up to in the field - tracking poachers or checking on animals, particularly the rhinos; I also enter a bunch of data into a mapping system for Michiel to track the patrols; I have collected 35 types of grass and many types of flowers. Sometimes Pierre and I drop off or pick up a bunch of workers or scouts from the park. We are also creating a newsletter and a notice board for the entrance gate. The other day all the scouts went off to collect their wages (they are employed by the government as part of a law enforcement team) so Pierre and I were put on gate duty. We sat in the safari vehicle in the pouring rain reading and stuff - it was fun!
Pierre gets some more interesting jobs than I do, managing the workers and overseeing their work. I find that there is some sexism here - things that woman 'can't' do, or it's not even considered that they could. I find it a bit frustrating but it's so ingrained in the Zimbabwean or African mind that I think it's not worth fighting against. So here I sit in the office instead, when I'd much rather be roaming around working with people.
When visitors come to Tiwali Camp, Pierre and I have to move out. Last week some friends of Michiel came and today the accountant from Holland comes, so we have to move out again. We have to pack up and move from our beautiful palace to the staff quarters. They consist of a line of red brick huts with a tin roof and concrete décor for the interiors. It's a bit like being in a prison cell. I think for the Africans they are pretty sophisticated accommodation but for us they are definitely not! They are very hot and there are many, many bugs. Oh well, we just have to swallow our European standards and our pride and move our stuff again. Tomorrow the Country Director for AP (African Parks) will come, so we have to stay in the staff quarters for 4 days. It's good for me!
Every day brings exciting little events. Last week I was working at the computer and the cleaner asked me, 'Madam, have you seen the scorpion?' No, I hadn't and there, a metre to the right of me, was a black scorpion, 3 inches long. They are not particularly dangerous but will make you feel pretty ill if they bite. Astrid said that I shouldn't worry because they move really slowly but when Michiel tried to catch it the little thing shot across the floor at high speed! We took it outside and I insisted on a photo of my first scorpion.
Yesterday when Pierre and I walked back to camp we found the tracks of 2 snakes - these were the first tracks I'd seen. We found a harmless house snake in the office a while back but otherwise I have seen nothing of snakes. As we walk back and forth we often see tracks and I am learning to know which footprints match up with which animals.
On our first Saturday here, we set off on a rhino tracking patrol with 2 scouts. They have to sight the rhinos to make sure that they are well. On the way, a huge spider (the body was the size of a golf ball) landed right in Pierre's lap (just like Miss Muffet). I've never seen him move so fast but the scouts laughed and said that it was not dangerous - only the ground spiders are….. Anyway, off we went on our rhino tracking. We followed a dry river bed where there were fresh tracks of one rhino called Olehile and also tracks from the day before. We walked for about an hour, seeing where he had gone and what he had been up to; grazing, playing, sleeping, eating branches. Finally we reached a spot where the scouts said he was very close. They asked if we knew what to do if we saw him? Climb a tree. OK, off we went into the bushes. I could smell him and the scouts were moving very cautiously - if an African is cautious like that, you know it's dangerous. One of them, Francis Chambo, turned to me and said, 'Madam, do you know how to climb a tree?' I assured him that if the rhino showed up, I would have no trouble climbing the nearest thing at high speed! We were also following the tracks of a lone, large, male buffalo - these can be very dangerous as they have usually been thrown out of the herd and can be very aggressive - however, the scouts didn't seem at all worried by those tracks! We wandered about in tall grass for a while and there didn't seem too many trees to climb at that point. We could smell the rhino and although there was no sign of him they said he was very close. He was either grazing or sleeping, neither of which were good moments to come across him suddenly in the grass. We also found that a herd of buffalo had passed through there so the ground was thoroughly trampled and we therefore lost the rhino tracks. Very exciting stuff - it certainly got our hearts racing! About a week ago we heard on the radio that some scouts had found the rhino - the scout from base conversing with them asked them to repeat the message because of interference. The scout in the field replied, 'sorry for that, I am climbing a tree because the rhino is just charging'. Any other nationality (except perhaps Indian) I am sure would have said I'll call you back later, but not the African scouts! They are extremely polite.
We have been a couple of times to visit a nearby national park. We drove 40km through a sugar cane plantation to get there. Lengwe is still managed by the government and suffers badly from extensive poaching. However, they still have more animals and shorter grass than Majete so we have been able to see some beautiful animals. The first time we went for lunch at a lodge in the park. While you eat you can watch animals wandering past - it's lovely. The second time we saw a big buffalo hiding in some water. We disturbed him and he limped out, showing us a bad wound on his foot from a snare - it was so sad. Later we went to the Sucoma Sports Club on the sugar plantation for dinner. This is a weird place with houses and golf course and club built in the 50's for the South African employees of the sugar plantation. All over Africa, but more particularly Malawi, it seems you find a particular breed of South African or Zimbabwean working here; pot bellied, ruddy faced, late 50's/60's, strangely and extremely British in their embedded manners, business men to the core with their bored, painted wives. It's quite strange because you see them everywhere. Pierre and I sat in amazement at the culture shock - it was like going back to the 70's. We all had a not very nice dinner there and drove back in the dark along the dirt roads. On the way I thought I was hallucinating at the sight of a camel in front of us, but actually it was real and had to fully kitted out security guards sitting on top of it! They are the perfect animal to use for the plantations because of their height. It was a funny sight!
I'll sign off now before this letter gets any longer……
Love and best wishes to all Julia xx
16th February 2005
Dear All
Firstly HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Secondly Happy Valentine’s to you all!
Here I sit in the Majete office. It is a cool 37 degrees today, beautiful blue skies and not too humid. I am sitting at Astrids’ desk as she has now headed off to Ethiopia to help start a new project there and will be gone for the next month. I am therefore now Acting Administrative Director for Majete and was unofficially instated on my birthday!
It’s nice to finally have something with a bit of responsibility but really there is still not so much to do. Next week will be a bit busier because I have to get all the wages done, but otherwise I manage the day to day finances, do some little admin bits, do the shopping in Blantyre, oversee the cook, clothes-washer and gardener (!) and sometimes help them out if they are a bit pressed.
I had a lovely birthday. I stayed at the camp in the morning to help Shiko out. I sat on the step outside the kitchen popping peas from their pods for several hours. It was very peaceful and a beautiful day. It was of course 40 degrees on my 40^th ! I then went into the office for a few bits and pieces and then went off to the local village to do some errands and take the scouts to do their shopping for a long patrol. I enjoyed that. In the evening we got dressed up (well, Pierre and I did) and he made a nice dinner with Shiko. We set up candles and his MP3 player in the dinner tent and had a lovely evening. There was no champagne unfortunately – the quality of alcohol is limited to some overpriced and fairly horrible South African wine. We found a bearable Cabernet Sauvignon which rather insults its ancestors but we had a jolly time anyway!
The weekend before, Pierre and I had been off to Blantyre for the weekend. We were both in desperate need of getting up to date with our e-mail and to get out of the relationship politics of the characters who work here for a while. Pierre also had some clandestine shopping to do for my birthday. We had intended to head off to Zomba but found that our time was a bit tight and so we planned a trip to the top of a nearby mountain set in a Nature Reserve. I was very pleased about this as I have wanted to climb a mountain again since I hurt my foot and back 2 ½ years ago. We set off for the Nature Reserve and the cab driver refused to follow our instructions, insisting on heading off somewhere else. An hour later, after several redirections we ended up where we had originally set out for, along the worst road imaginable! We decided to abandon the taxi and walk the 5km to the park entrance. As we approached we found a scout strategically placed there and he said he would accompany us to the ‘office’ to sign in. He said we needed a guide as some of the paths were not clear and, as it happened he was one of those too! Africa has an odd way of providing those moments….We found a jolly bunch of scouts in the office – they seemed to have absolutely nothing to do and were very pleased for a short flurry of activity.
Off we set up the mountain. The scout set an army-like pace as we headed vertically up the mountain. Boy did we get a work-out! The day was hot by UK standards but cool for over here, thank goodness. It was like climbing a very steep staircase for 21/2 hours at high speed. We both enjoyed the physical challenge although I was very careful – it was an added challenge for me and I could certainly feel my weak spots. Nevertheless my body held out (more through determination than anything else!) and we arrived at the top with the most incredible 360 panoramic view I have ever experienced. I felt very pleased with myself as I stood at the monument on top marked 1478m. Admittedly the base was already 800m but still, this was a big achievement for me after the journey of the last few years.
An added bonus to the expedition happened on the way up when we heard a poacher cutting down trees. The scout warned us that he would fire into the air to frighten the poacher off and cocked his AK47 to make a surprise ambush. The gun fired, causing the most incredible ricochet of sound off the rocks. The poacher yelped and ran off home as fast as he could. It was pretty exciting and the scout was very pleased with himself.
On the way down we visited a hyena hide (lookout cabin). To get there we had to cross a dry boulder strewn river, inhabited by hyraxes. They are strange little rabbit-like creatures that resembled puppets popping up and down behind the boulders. They were very amusing. Unfortunately it was just sunset and a little too early to see the hyena; beside we needed to get out of the park before nightfall. Our taxi was waiting to collect us and we headed off to the hotel satisfied and exhausted.
The incident with the poacher reminded me of another gun encounter we had had in Mozambique…. We were crossing the pontoon over the Zambezi in the sweltering heat on the return journey to Quelimane. I was coming down with Malaria on that day and had a fever too. The policeman on the far side was completely mismanaging the disembarkation and peoples’ tempers were getting a little frayed. A drunk man appeared out of nowhere and marched up to the policeman to pick a fight. After an argument they started fighting before some other men came to pull the drunkard away. He came back a couple of times for more and the policeman suddenly pulled his gun to the man’s head. This was a bit of a surprise event as the policeman could simply have cuffed him to a lorry to cool off. However, the policeman was a bit of a swaggerer with a cool pair of sunglasses and was determined to prove his power. The gun trick worked wonders and spread the crowd (myself included) with lightening speed. The other men came back and pulled the drunkard away as far as they could. It was obvious that the policeman had no real power at all as he did not seem to have the means to arrest the man.
I came down with a cold, of all things, which I had brought back from Blantyre, so was feeling pretty groggy last week. I stayed at the camp for a day or two and read the Da Vinci Code. That was fun! On my way back to the tent one day I caught sight of a snake about 1 1/2metres long. Fortunately it was heading in the opposite direction and I later found out that it is harmless. It was brown with a yellow stripe down either side – a stripe bellied sand snake. There are always new reptiles and bugs to look at and you do get used to sharing the house with them. However, when we were in Blantyre, we saw an enormous spider in a very large yellow web. He looked very vicious!
I now cycle back and forth to the office on Michiel’s bike. I enjoy that and the other day some Impala jumped out right in front of me and then some large waterbuck a few days later.
Pierre and I were working a bit late at the office 2 nights ago and we decided to walk back just before sunset. However, we didn’t time it too well and night came rather suddenly about half way back to the camp. In the dusk we realised what a disadvantage we were at with such poor night vision – it’s not a place to be wandering around in the dark! At one point we were being stalked by what seemed to be a pack of baboons, barking as we went along. Jason thought it was a jackal but we still think it was baboons. It seemed a pretty hostile place as we walked in the dark, trying to walk and talk loudly… – it was pretty freaky so we won’t be repeating that experience!
At night sometimes it becomes very eyrie. I’m not sure what it is that causes it - maybe the phase of the moon or the heat. The cows in the farm adjacent become restless as the hyenas prowl and the farmers start drumming to ward them off. Sometimes the bush babies make a lot of noise – they sound like babies being strangled – which can be rather disturbing when you’re in a deep sleep. There are also all kinds of inexplicable noises and scrapings that wake you up. I feel safe in the tent although the sounds make some interesting backdrops for my dreams!
Three weeks ago Jason and Astrid collected a bush pig from their friend in Lilongwe. Her mother died and she was brought up as a pet. However, she was becoming a bit unruly for their city garden so they decided the surroundings here would suit her better. She is a funny little thing who snuffles and snorts and digs and chomps her way through the day. She wakes us up just before our alarm goes off at six, snuffling around the tent in a very busy way. The other day Jason’s friends came over from the sugar plantation and Pig was very boisterous in grabbing food off their plates. She is no longer the timid cautious creature who arrived here. As we walk down the path to the tent she charges after us and as long as we catch her in time and speak to her she screeches to a halt behind you rather than charging you at full speed! Sometimes a growling sound can startle you from the bushes, more akin to a bear than a pig but then she snorts her way out and you breathe a sigh of relief.
Apart from all these strange goings-on, life continues peacefully here in the park.
Not so much to report
All love
Julia xx
Crimewatch Our government not only gave us a false reason for invading Iraq, it also pretended to have advice the invasion would be legal. Turns out this was hooey too, and apparently made up to placate people like the head of the army:
I spent a good deal of time recently in the Balkans making sure Milosevic was put behind bars. I have no intention of ending up in the next cell to him in the Hague. Gen. Sir Mike Jackson
The substance of the attorney general's advice, and the process by which it was partially published, simply do not stand up to scrutiny. […] The issue is all the more serious since the government motion passed by the House of Commons on March 18 2003, endorsing military action against Iraq, was expressly based on that advice. Sir Menzies Campbell
What was served up to parliament as the view of the attorney general turned out to be the view of two of the closest aides of the prime minister. Robin Cook
Although it claimed to have the support of its legal adviser, the government was so concerned by the dubiousness of the invasion it planned that it briefed a legal team to defend it from charges of war crimes. This should not go to waste. It only remains now to indict Anthony Blair in The Hague.
Hunter S. Thompson† aka Raoul Duke, died of gunshot wounds yesterday, apparently by his own hand. He wrote the counter-culture classic Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which appeared in two parts in Rolling Stone in 1974, then a broadsheet. My copies of the two issues with the Thompson story passed from hand to hand, ever more ragged, until the story finally came out as a book.
» Obituary in The Independent
Real, grimy and exiled
he eludes us
Marilyn Hacker / “The Navigators”, 1974
I hate to advocate weird chemicals, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone … but they’ve always worked for me. Hunter S. Thompson
The view from Olympus Some senior US official was quoted recently hoping the “situation in Iran” would be resolved without the use of military force. I believe Hitler expressed similar statesmanlike hopes about Austria and Czechoslovakia before invading them. Yielding to no one in largeness of view and generosity of mind, everyone here at 5jt.com hopes the situation in the present US Administration will be resolved without assassinations.
War on anxiety Presumably a War on Terror aims to reduce fear. So why are we not winning? The US Department of Fatherland Security could usefully study lessons learned in London.
The 1970s saw a sustained campaign of bombing here. The IRA did it to undermine the political process in Northern Ireland. But we knew what they wanted and, despite grumbling about what we did or did not owe the people of Northern Ireland, were disinclined to cede the point.
By way of refreshing contrast, the US authorities and media paint the destroyers of the Two Towers as inexplicably evil, and brim full of unreasoning hatred for Americans. No one seems to have noticed that like the IRA they have an agenda — in this case to undermine US support for the despotic regimes that man the Middle Eastern gas pumps. (Yes, since you ask, Iraq under Hussein would have been high on that list. Quite right: bit of an own goal, that.)
The effect of this is to increase terror. Bin Laden’s men seem more terrifying than terrorists. Terrorists want something you could give. Bin Laden’s scary monsters are represented as willing nothing but our annihilation.
I know we Brits have our famous upper lips to maintain, but the Dept of Fatherland Security might just take note that during the London bombing campaign, with bombs exploding now and again in central London, our authorities were urging calm and so on. No Minister of Fear yelling CODE ORANGE. Some might think that more likely to increase terror than reduce it? Just a thought.
Or — wait a minute — the US administration and British government couldn’t be deliberately frightening us — could they?
If they thought we were not frightened enough to surrender our freedoms promptly, would they be tempted to let an attack slip through? Or — did that already happen?
The war thing What is it with Americans and wars? War on Poverty, War on Drugs — how do we Europeans manage with just programmes?
The disadvantages of mere programmes are glaring. If a programme fails you consider ending it. Wars have far more momentum — or was inertia the word I wanted? Losing a war is more likely to increase spending than end it.
Wars also have a pleasingly absolute quality that exempts them from the perils of comparison with other initiatives. Faced with Don’t you know there’s a war on? we can gratefully relax and stop trying to compare costs and results — there’s a war on!
Perhaps we find ourselves inhibited by memories, still too fresh, of war where we live, or the imminent threat of it. No doubt when these wounds have healed we too will be able to subscribe — if not to a War on Terror, then perhaps to a War on Anxiety. Perhaps we might start modestly, with a War on Misplaced Apostrophes?
No war in Iraq A poster in our neighbourhood before Christmas urged us to stop the war in Iraq and bring our soldiers home. Is anyone else confused about this?
There was a war in Iraq. It started when an army from the US, the UK and the rest of our allies invaded the place. It ended shortly afterwards with the collapse of the civil power. Since then, as occupying powers, we have been responsible under the Geneva Convention for maintaining law, order and the electricity supply. Not a responsibility to walk away from — invade a country, destroy its government, then shake your head and walk away? No, there hasn’t been a war in Iraq for a while now.
So why in the US do the media and senior administration officials continue to refer to the “War in Iraq”?
Dogs of war Hats off to the Liberal Democrat party for choosing civil liberties as their platform for election. It really is the defining issue for our time — whether in our complacency we shall let the British and US governments roll back two centuries of liberal democracy.
The Twin Towers attack proves a real threat from terrorists. It was plausibly directed by bin Laden, sheltering in Afghanistan, and NATO was right to invoke Article 5 for the first time ever and invade that country.
But now the dogs of war are loose and crying havoc. There is ample evidence that George II, from the moment the towers fell, sought every opportunity to recruit the attack to his own agenda with Iraq and to an election that would validate his 2000 coup.
Since Afghanistan all proportion has gone. The Bush administration uses the Two Towers as an excuse to launch the most dangerous attack on democracy since World War II. Freedom is on the march! Yes: it is everywhere in retreat.
Americans used to be the staunchest champions of freedom. Two towers down and they’re running scared, willing to concede the most draconian directions of the Department of Fatherland Security. How little it took.
Tony Blair is not the brightest card in the pack. He had us invade Iraq on a false prospectus. The ‘Knave or Fool’ question has been settled by now. He was helping George.
This nuisance must now cease.
Vale Valentine A generation ago St Valentine’s Day was a harmless bit of fun for adolescents. I'm no fan of the sickly way it’s been ramped up into a festival of sentiment as couples strive to show that limerence (wonderful word that) still rages.
Nodimanco (as Machiavelli liked to start paragraphs), coupled or not, I hope you were wined, dined and bedded extravagantly last night.
Fan male Photojournalist Neville Elder stumbled across 5jt.com and writes
This site is great — but where’s the catch? I can’t believe there is no [ulterior motive]. It’s like peering into somebody’s kitchen during a dinner party. I’m doing some research on alcoholism and came across the phrase ‘l’ethylisme bourgeois’ in the text and spent several minutes gorging myself on your beautifully designed life. Hmmmm… but 3 wives? Vonnegut is wonderful, but Schadenfreude is better… More power to your pixel. I must send a jumping picture!! Neville ElderFor this he gets a linkback to www.nevilleelder.com, with 5jt.com’s compliments.
Not yer everage beverage To Bayswater last night and an impromptu dinner with Geoff & Beverley Blanning. Wine-writer Beverley has now started her own weblog, which I'll announce here when it's ready for public view. Expect taste and flair. Until then, hold your water.
All the pretty women Handan Erek sends a poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
All the pretty women thought
The poems I wrote on love
Were meant for them.
And I always felt badly
About having written them
Just for the hell of it.
Orhan Veli Kanik
An Old Woman’s Birthday Edwin Morgan has a new poem in the London Review of Books. Go on, you know you want that subscription.
That’s me ninety-four. If we are celebrating
I’ll take a large Drambuie, many thanks,
and then I’ll have a small one every evening
for the next six years. After that — something quick
and I’ll be off. A second century doesn’t entice.
When I was a girl, you thought you would live for ever.
Those endless summer twilights under the trees,
sauntering, talking, clutching a modest glass
of grampa’s punch diluted to suit young ladies —
diluted? it didn’t seem so! the crafty old man
loved to see us glowing, certainly not swaying
but just ever so slightly so, what do you say, high.
Life put all that away. I drove an ambulance
through shells, ruins, mines, cries, blood,
frightful, days of frightfulness who could forget?
It is not to be dwelt on; we do what we can.
If this is hell, and there is no other,
we are tempered, I was tempered — fires, fires —
I was a woman then, I was not broken.
No angel either; the man I married knew that!
Well, we had our times. What are quarrels for
but to make amends, get stronger. We did, we were.
He is gone now. I don’t have a budgie in a cage
but I am one, and if you want me to sing
it will take more than a cuttlebone and a mirror:
more than Drambuie: more than if there was ever
good news out of Iraq where my ambulance
would keep me day and night without sleep:
more than what I say here, sitting
waiting for my son to come and see me
perhaps with flowers, chocolate, a card,
oh I don’t know, he is late, he is ill,
he is old, I forget his heart is worse
than mine, but still, I know he’ll do his best.
You really want me to sing? Come on then,
you sing first, then a duet, I love a duet.
Edwin Morgan
Look good feel great To Mayfair with Caroline Mawer last night for the launch party of Jodie Deakin & Lisa Arthur’s new dating and life coaching business www.youlookgoodfeelgreat.com One thing we already know: those girls do know how to throw a party. Best of luck, you two, and thanks for a great evening.