Kapuscinksi

Just finished reading a book about the insane and corrupt rule and downfall of Haile Selassie...

some very funny quotes...

Page 98, The Emperor, Ryszard Kapuściński...

Z.S.-K.:

A year after the Gojam uprising - which by showing the furious and unrelenting face of the people stirred the Palace and threw a fright into the dignitaries (And not only them: we servants also started getting the creeps) -= a singular misfortunate happened to me: my son Hailau, a university student in those depressing years, began to think. That's right, he began to think, and I must explain to you, my friend, that in those days thinking was a painful inconvenience and a troubling deformity. His Unexcelled Majesty, in his incessant care for the good and comfort of his subjects, never spared any efforts to protect them from this inconvenience and deformity. Why should they waste the time that ought to be devoted to the cause of development, why should they disturb their internal peace and stuff their heads with all sorts of disloyal ideas? Nothing decent or comforting could result if someone decided to think restlessly and provocatively or mingle with those who were thinking. And yet my harebrained son committed exactly that indiscretion. My wife was the first to notice it. Her maternal instinct told her that dark clouds were gathering over our home, and she said to me one day, "Hailu must have striated to think. You can see that he's sad." That's how it was then. THose who surveyed the Empire and pondered their surroundings walked sadly and lost in thought, their eyes full of troubled pensiveness, as if they had a presentiment of something vague and unspeakable. Most often one saw such faces among students, who, let me add, were causing His Majesty a lot of grief. It truly amazes me that the police never caught the scent, the connection between thinking and mood. Had the made that discovery in time they could easily have neutralized these thinkers, who y their snorting and malicious reluctance to show satisfaction brought so many troubles and afflictions on His Venerable Majesty's head.

The Emperor, however, showing more perspicacity that his police, understood that sadness can drive on to thinking, disappointment, waffling, and shuffling, and so he ordered distractions, merriment, festivities, and masquerades for the whole Empire. His Noble Majesty himself had the Palace illuminated, threw banquets for the poor, and incited people to gaiety. When they had guzzled and gamboled, they gave praise to their King. This went on for years, and the distractions so filled people's head, so corked them up, that they could talk of nothing but having fun. Our feet are bare, but we're debonair, hey ho! Only the thinkers, who saw everything getting gray, shrunken, mud-splashed, and moldy, skipped the jokes and the merriment. They became a nuisance. The unthinking ones were wiser; they didn't let themselves get taken in, and when the students started holding rallies and talking, the nonthinkers stuffed their ears and made themselves scarce. What's the use of knowing, then it's better not to know? Why do it the hard way, when it can be easy? Why talk, if you're better of keeping you mouth shut? Why get mixed up in the affairs of the Empire, when there's so much to do closer to home, when there's shopping to be done?

Well, my friend, seeing what a dangerous course my son was sailing, I tried to dissuade him, to encourage him to participate in amusements, to send him on excursions. I would even have preferred that he devote himself to nightlife rather than to those damned demonstrations and conspiracies. Just imagine my pain, my distress: the father in the Palace, the son in the anti-Palace. In the streets I'm protected by the police from my own son, who demonstrates and throws rocks. I told him over and over again, "Why don't you give up thinking? It doesn't get you anywhere. fRoget it. fool around instead. Look at other people, those who listen to the wise - how cheerfully they walk around, laugh. No clouds on their foreheads. They devote themselves to the good life, and if they worry about anything it's about how to fill their pockets, and to such concerns and solicitations His Majesty is always kindly inclined, always thinking of how to make things smooth and cozy." "And how," asks Hailu, "can there by a contradiction between a person who thinks and wise person If person doesn't think, he's a fool." "Not at all," I saw. "Wise he still is - it's just that he has directed his thoughts to a safe, sheltered place, and not between rumbling, crushing millstones." But it was too late. Hailu was already living in a different world, by then the university, located not far from the Palace, had turned itself into a real anti-Palace where only the brave set foot, and the space between the court and the university increasingly resembled a battlefield on which the fate of the Empire was being decided.

Page 97

His August Majesty chided the bureaucrats for failing to understand a simple principle: the principle of the second bag. Because the people never revolt just because they have to carry a heavy load, or because of exploitation. They don't know life without exploitation, they don't even know that such a life exists. How can they desire what they cannot imagine? The people will revolt only when, in a single movement, someone tries to throw a second burden, a second heavy bag, onto their backs. The peasant will fall face down into the mud - and then spring up and grab an ax. He'll grab an ax, my gracious sir, not because he simply can't sustain this new burden - he could carry it - he will rise because he feels that, in throwing the second burden onto his back suddenly and stealthily, you have tried to cheat him, you have treated him like an unthinking animal, you have trampled what remains of his already strangled dignity, taken him for an idiot who doesn't see, feel or understand. A man doesn't seize an ax in defense of his wallet, but in defense of his dignity, and that dear sir, is why His Majesty scolded the clerks. For their own convenience and vanity, instead of adding the burden bit by bit, in little bags, they tried to heave a whole big sack on at once.

Lost at Sea

Eid holiday celebrates the day when the truly merciful old-testament god let his loyal servant Abraham off the hook by explaining that he didn't really want him to murder his son, and he could kill a sheep instead.

Its explained in a great sketch by Mitchell and Webb...

On the eve of Eid, machetes and live wriggling sheep are on sale at every traffic light crossroads in Khartoum.

We headed to the coast for the long weekend.

Sudan Airways, apart from being blacklisted for safety, is known here as "Inshala Airways" meaning "God Willing" for its lack of punctuality. True to form, when we arrived at the airport at 10am we were told to come back at 5pm. In the end the flight was delayed almost 9 hours. The flight itself was fine, the aircraft was an Airbus 330 that seems to be recently acquired or borrowed from the Comoros Islands. We checked into our pretty basic beach hut (£50/night) at about midnight.

The wind howled all night. The next morning, against my better judgement, hypnotised by the promise of a great dive site, we set out into open sea in a small boat, and it was very choppy.

First dive was too short and not so good, except for a small school of big barracudas and a napoleon. Surface break of 20minutes between dives, enough time for seasickness to win as the boat fuel tank was knocked over by the waves. Fortunately we didn't loose any fuel, but lost the breakfast overboard. Second dive was great. A current swept us effortlessly along the beautiful coral top of an 800metre wall. No hammerhead sharks. We surface after an hour to find no boat in sight. Despite towing a marker buoy the boat hadn't followed us, maybe some communication problem as the guide didn't speak Arabic. We had to scramble onto the reef to escape the current; we were thrown around by the waves breaking over the top; then swam to the lighthouse heading for safety; we made it without major injuries to ourselves, just some coral scratches, and glad of our long 5mm wetsuits as our guide wearing only shorts got badly scratched and bruised, Eventually the boat saw us and met us at the lighthouse. After half an hour with the navy who look after the place, and avoiding the dodgy guy who was drooling over Norma in her body-hugging wetsuit, we were back in the boat for the return trip. It took an eternity until we saw land again. I was so sick I almost cried when I finally felt terra firma beneath my feet.

The wind got stronger the next day, so we didn't dive again.

The 'resort', a collection of sheds, on an outcrop of rock, isn't bad really. Its nice to be out in the middle of nowhere, with so much space around, the sea, the open skies, no traffic, no city, and distant hills in the haze of the horizon.

We had a good time, as several friends arrived. Firstly some guys who drove from Khartoum via the pyramids; looked like a good trip. Interesting conversations...I learned the alternative history of the breakup of Yugoslavia (fascinating read here that points the finger at external influences against a growing and successful socialist state during the cold war). The next day, our friends from the elections team arrived from Port Sudan, also on holiday, looking for a break by the sea.

We spent one night in Port Sudan, which turns out to be a rather nice looking town. The streets are wide, with pavements unlike most of Khartoum, and trees. The air is clean and the light is extra bright. One prominent feature is a shiney new container port - a giant machine that lifts and stacks containers very precisely as though they were light as lego bricks.

Flight back to Khartoum was ok, delayed or rather 'rescheduled' by only 4 hours, and reassuringly it was the same newish Airbus. Fortunately we were helped by the Station Manager of the airline, as we didn't have our e-ticket printout, and he even managed to get us on an earlier flight that should have been full.

Open space - view towards the hills.

The £50 sheds...getting away from it all...

everyone waded out to the island...risking the sting rays and lion fish and goodness knows what else...

"looks like we gut ourselves a reader"

...Sir Bill Hicks

...never alone with a mobile phone...

Chill Wind And Football

"Mostly sunny and delightful" is the weather forecast for Khartoum.

Two days ago there was a strong wind, that almost whipped up into a sandstorm, and lasted for about 24 hours. It blew away the warmth. Now we can expect 17C to 34C. The change feels dramatic. Its actually chilly at night, we don't need the ceiling fan, and we need to cover with a sheet to stay warm in bed. Already I miss the heat. Before, everything I touched felt warm - the doorhandle, my shirt from the closet, the floor - now they feel cool.

At the weekend...Saturday - we made our first excursion outside of Khartoum to our friend's farm. A secret location hidden in a labyrinth of barely used tracks. Barbecue under a mango tree (not laden with fruit). Good to be outside of the city for a few hours. On Friday - we had lunch with some great people - from the Spanish Embassy and new UNV recruits. Then dinner with more friends, to celebrate 3 years working in Khartoum. An unusually sociable weekend, with new friends from Spain, USA, Sudan, Cuba, Lebanon, South Africa, France, Italy. Meeting so many people from all around the world is one of the big pluses in our Khartoum Chapter.

Above the noise and aircraft, donkeys collecting metal and plastic for recycling, sellers shouting their wares - the car horns are tooting excitedly. Tomorrow the eyes of the world will be looking at a football pitch here in Ombdurman, as Egypt plays against arch rivals Algeria. Here everyone is waving the the Algerian flag, from cars, from tuk tuks, walking in the street. Lets hope there aren't riots.

Tuti Island

In Sudan, Saturday is Sunday.

As the museum was closed, the icy chilled aircon taxi dropped us to thaw in the 40C+ sunshine near the bridge to Tuti Island.

We first went into the super modern El Fateh Hotel, otherwise known as the Gadafi's Egg - for its shape and owner or vice-versa. At the top of the tall building is a cafe, where you can have expensive coffee while enjoying the views of Khartoum and the Nile just below. un?Fortunately it was also closed, so we just had the free views without the coffee.

Our Bradt guidebook says you reach Tuti Island by ferry boat. Not any more. There's a big new empty bridge with just enough traffic to erode the peace of the village. There are some things

that are lost with progress. With so many places polluted by traffic, having 'no access' can be a precious commodity. There are at least four villages in Switzerland whose sell this as luxory, with cars excluded mere humans can enjoy the roads to themselves (unless they get run over by silent electric cars). Anyway... that's progress... on the mainland river bank they are building more Eggs and dubious Dubai towers.

Tuti Island that lies in the middle of the Nile, where the two branches of the river meet.

It was quite a nice rural walk. Shady lanes through trees and small fields. Seriously the shade is a delicious respite from the sun, another precious commodity. Canals of flowing water pumped up from the Nile. No traffic noise, until we got to the north tip, our objective, to the point where the Blue Nile and While Nile meet. They are both brown. At that point you hear the rumble of traffic from the busy bridge that joins Omdurman to Khartoum 2.

[I miss being able to go for a walk. I tried to walk in our neighbourhood here, but quickly got worn out with the heat and the traffic noise. No pavement. No shady lane. No river Wye.]

Despite the intermittent shade we were soon facing dehydration, and exhaustion from the heat, as we headed back south, towards the Egg on the horizon. Friendly voices called to us as we walked past... a tree under which several people are quietly resting, some sleeping, some joking, big clay pots of drinking water, and a young lady with a beautiful smile making hot drinks. I discovered that I don't know how to pronounce coffee in Arabic, all attempts failed, resorting to English immediately understood. But this was Greek style coffee with a twist of spice: cardamom, cinnamon and pepper. Served in a glass, difficult to hold without scalding fingers. Delicious drink. Restful place. The sound of drums and chant drifting across the river, possibly from the Sufis. That pause under the tree, everything just right, a magical quality. We were recharged and ready to face the heat again. On the way we saw mangos for sale, just SP1 each, two big bunches of rocket (that is really good here) and we bought tomatoes, also cheaper than usual, and the guy was so pleased he gave us extra stuff for free: a handful of green chilis, some spring onions, and something else we didn't recognise.

So, I'm glad the museum was closed last Saturday.

Red Sea Blues

Now back in Khartoum. The Red Sea seems a million miles away.

Beautiful deep Blue hue I haven't seen before, sometimes reminiscent of the Aegean.

We did ten dives last week. I could happily dive every day, but that will only happen if we live near a reef.

The coral reef around Marsa Alam, is apparently similar to reef further north in Hurgada and even up to Sharm El Sheik, but with less divers, has good coral, intact, quite a lot of fish, though the warm water means less fish and bleached coral. Apparently also Sudan has similar reef wildlife but suffers from bombing -- the unbelievably stupid fishing technique that uses bombs to kill ALL the fish so they float dead to the surface and are easy to collect, but it wipes out the whole fish population including babies and all species and it destroys the reef; it is extremely short-sighted; this also happens in Indonesia where they use bombs and also poisons to kill the fish.

The first few dives saw us regaining the skills after a break of a

few months without diving. Then we got into the flow of it, as it becomes more effortless, flying quietly in the three dimensional submarine world. We even did a swim-through through a maze of semi-closed tunnels that was exciting, and got over my phobia of entering and enclosed space; but it was crazy almost head-to-toe at speed, group of 7 or 8 divers, careful not to kick the walls with fins, or knock the roof with the tank, then later, outside the tunnel around big rock cnayons, 'saving' our dive instructor who pretended to panic then as the dive finished we all had to pile into the small dinghy, a pile of bodies and equipment, in a race to the leave the marine park before closing time, 3pm, or face a €3000 fine and imprisonment for the captain; we were 1 minute late and the coastguard was onto us, but they let us off.

We snorkelled with dolphins. Two brief encounters. Our captain sighted them, we intercepted them, jumped into the water, snorkelled above them, as they fly at speed, about eleven of them. I'm dubious about the ethics of this intrusion on the dolphins at one of their favourite places, but I guess it is only brief, and the humans are only there for a few hours each day.

We're now certified Rescue Divers. New skills: to recognise signs of problems before they happen and identify stress before it turns into panic, to help yourself or other divers to the surface and out of the water, practised surfacing without air, and engaging to help a panicking diver without jeopardising your own safety. All good fun and worthwhile.

At the embassy in Cairo we met a guy who cycled there from Sweden, was continuing through Sudan, aiming for Cape Town. I am humbled. It seems very brave to cycle the desert roads, through extreme heat, but he wasn't worried about that, but about the bureaucracy of visas and permits, and he's read that in Ethiopia people can be quite hostile and throw stones at cyclists, and worried about camping in Kenya with its reputation for violent robbery. Hopefully we'll see him here in Khartoum.

Whirling Dervishes, Camels, Aliens

This is the first cloudy sky since I've been here.

On Friday we saw the Sufis. They have a party, technically its not a a party, its a ritual worship frenzy, with drumming and dancing, every Friday for 45minutes before evening prayer, and apparently it then continues after prayer until 10pm.

Sufism is manifest here as a deviant branch of Islam. Focus is on mysticism and a direct communion an

d experience of the divine. I've heard that Islam arrived in this part of the world via the Sufis, peacefully, rather than via the sword as happened elsewhere, and that here the Sufis are quite well respected and hold positions of power.

The Friday ritual is a lot of fun. There are smiles all round. A free-for-all of dancing and chanting and whooping and waving hands and sticks in the air and encouraging each-other to dance and chant with more vigour. There is a definite party atmosphere.

The Sufis wear bright green, with various other bright colours, as opposed to the uniform white of Orthodox Islam.

There was one old man in particular, who looked like a Saddhu from India, with his long grey beard and long hair. There was one guy that looked like many a government minister or something, seemed to have a clique around him, and wasn't wearing the green garb. There were several people with huge smiles and with a slightly crazy excited look in their eyes.

We only stayed until prayer time, as we had to get back to see our friends. Next time we will stay and see how the ritual progresses.

The Sufi ritual is in Omdurman. Khartoum is divided into segments by the three lines of the river: Khartoum, Khartoum 2, Omdurman.

Our taxi took us to the outskirts of Omdurman, to an area called Libyan Market or something like that, and beyond. We were looking for the camel market. I realised it was going to be a sad affair, as the camels are sold for their meat. We found them, and other animals, under makeshift shade on desert ground. Donkeys carry huge cannisters of water for t

he other animals. It is the first time I saw baby camels. Cute of course, and very stubborn like their parents. We took some photos, and then later we hassled for money for the photos (SDP10 they wanted!). We felt like aliens arriving there on the distant outskirts, on the fringe of the desert, just to look at the camels, not even to buy one.

After the Sufi ritual the taxi weaved its way back to the other reality, on the other side of the river, to the far other side of town, Riyadh, land of the rich where we pretend to live. In the Chinese supermarket we found tofu! Good quality, nutty taste, and cheap. We've eaten tofu every day since.

At our friend's flat, on a projector, we watched 'District 9', the sci-fi movie about Aliens in Johannesberg, which is entertaining but rather cheesy; Swiss cheesy, with all its logical holes, vague plot designed around action scenes, but good if you suspend analysis. After watching so many Werner Herzog films, almost everything else seems rather vacuous.

Not as funny as the Southpark Gooeybacks episode, where people from the future travel back in time looking for a job, they save a little money, put it in the bank, where it gains interest for a thousand years for the benefit of their family back home.

The UN has hundreds of cars parked that nobody uses. Norma's team have to share one car between three people. Who gets the car for the weekend?...that is negotiated by the hour. So we had the car on Saturday morning, then a colleague needed it in the afternoon, then we had it again in the night. We had time to go to change some money - there's one shop that gives a better rate - to buy another 50litres of drinking water - and to buy some veggies from a shop not too far away. We weren't confident we would actually find the proper market on our own, and anyway this shop turned out to have even some prices lower than at the market. There are good tomatoes here (SDP7/kilo). Nice apples (SDP1/each). But we are missing the rocket -- at the market they sell big bunches of spicey rocket thats really good.

In the evening we went to O-Zone. A local billionaire bought a traffic island and turned it into the latest chic cafe experience. Circular garden, with grass -- thats the only grass I've seen here, everywhere else is dust -- surrounded by a sprinkler system spraying a fine mist. The clientelle, mostly groups of young rich girls, site underneath the mist spray, presumably getting quite wet judging by the puddles on the floor. This is a new concept for me, a restaura

nt where you can have a shower while sitting at your table. We picked a dry table.

I've got a cold; again; I had one in Cairo also; this one is worse; I blame it partly on the aircon on Friday night. A blocked nose could ruin our diving plans next week. I tried diving with a blocked nose in Malysia, it was extremely painful, something ruptured in my sinus, and my mask filled with blood. Reverse block, where you cannot surface because of pressure block in the sinuses or ears, is a nightmare.

Four more days in the Khartoum then we're off to the sea.

Norma on the phone...

Some impressive horns...

Photo of Sufi ritual...

Photo of Omdurman Libya neighbourhood...

My First Habuk

Last night the wind whipped up into a sand storm - known as a Habuk.

It was a small one... and at night... so I didn't see the full impact... I've seen daytime photos of a impressive mountainous wall of red dust...and I hear that visibility drops to zero.

And it rained! (albeit briefly)

Afterwards the smell of rain drops on hot ground, and some puddles. This morning everything is dry again of course and it looks extra dusty.

As usual, I can hear chirping of birds, maybe starlings, from the flat, and occasionally a squeal of an eagle or some other large bird of prey. I woke with the thunder of a jet engine. The airport is closed between 8am and 3pm, so lots of flights land or take off before dawn.

Its very hot this morning.

This is the end of my second week here.