Rumble: Cyp in Aweil

From one of Cyprien's Emails:

"I landed in Aweil (South Sudan) in the afternoon of the 20th of April (13:00). The landing strip is located in the middle of the village, joining the two sides. When there is no aircraft, the landing strip is a soccer field where kids play football while watching their cows. It is also where trucks from Kisangani and Kampala offload their cargo, filling the strip with cycling villagers and smaller trucks crossing.
Before landing the pilot flies at very low altitude to chase away any living creature on the strip. Once this warning is given, and the "airport" is vacated, the pilot then comes back to land.

This deep in the bush, people are poor, sometimes slow. Goods (generally imported from Uganda and northern DRC) are expensive.

It was hard to find casual labour to help me build the concrete base for the office satellite communications dish, the Vsat. At a running cost of 629 USD per month for voice and data, the Vsat enables us to cut down the communications costs dramatically, so I had to get this dish up and running. And I only had one day to do it. The challenge was to find casual laborers to help me build the concrete base. I could do the rest by myself.

After hiring a dozen of them who resigned only minutes after they have taken the job, I am introduced to these Darfur refugees who accepted my terms and conditions: working through the night until the concrete base is done, loading the gravel, the bricks, the iron rods and transporting them to the site. They took the job.

We worked from 14:30 and completed the work the next day at 03:00 AM. In the morning at 08:30 we started the work again, plastering the bricks. This is when I took this picture. This daily labour, this man, is a refugee from Darfur. He has little or nothing. Not even a home. Lives in a camp. He worked through the night. And still, he smiled. It was comforting to see this smile.

When they were paid their honoraria, they looked at me like someone who gave them a grant or a present. And yet, the salary was their right. They were thankful, and yet they did ME a favour!

I left wishing I could be more of help to them another day. But this is what I enjoy about working in this part of the world. In all of my actions, I get the chance to see its immediate impact on the people, on the beneficiaries. I will never regret having chosen to work here. Here I get what a big salary or a promotion can not give me: The sense of feeling to be of help to a human being."

Cyprien
Camp Juba/Southern Sudan

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Rumble: Cyp in Bor

Often I read comments about the UN (or NGOs for that matter) delivering aid, picturing 'us' driving in posh cars, living in posh villas, earning skyhigh wages working in nice airconditioned offices. I think this is a bit of a blindfolded way to look at things...

The 'UN' is not ONE big thing... First of all split off the policital arm, the peace keeping arm, and the administrative arm (mostly coordinated out of New York), from the humanitarian arm. I work for the humanitarian arm.

While there are many areas where I wished the UN (as a whole), could downscale and cut down on the fat, there is far less fat in the humanitarian arm. Within the humanitarian arm of the UN, there are many different organisations. We're one of the largest, and one of the slimmest - I am proud to say..

And when people generalize the criticism and put 'all UN organisations' in one garbage can, I invite them to look at these pictures. These are our international staff living quarters in Bor, South Sudan. A tent. The bed takes up half of the space. No closets or cupboards. In the evening, one needs to go with a stick through the clothes and stuff stacked on the ground, to make sure there are no scorpions, snakes and other venim hiding in between. It gets hot. REAL hot in South Sudan. And humid. A fan is a luxury. AC is out of the question.

When you need to go to the toilet (well, 'toilet' is a rather generous word - see some of the future posts), at night, you need to put on all your clothes otherwise the moskitoes "will pick you up and drag you away". And use your flashlight to ensure you don't step on anything that will bite or sting you.

Note that nothing drags from the bed onto the floor (moskitoe net, bed linnen). This is to avoid anything crawling into your bed... Practice learns.

The only luxury one has, is the telephone and data (Internet) connectivity. This is where our friend Cyprien and his ICT crew come in. They extended the wireless LAN and voice network from the office into the living compound, so staff can at least 'do something' when back in their tents. Even if it is just "work from my tent".

Here is Cyp in front of his tent in Bor, South Sudan.

Pictures courtesy of Cyprien Hiniolwa, Enrico Pausilli, Ulrik Pedersen. All in South Sudan

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Rumble: Cyp in Niger

Another picture sent by Cyp. This one is from Agadez in Niger. It is a solar powered satellite communications system, providing voice (telephone) and data (Internet) in the middle of nowhere. Cyp installed it as part of a project mitigating chronic hunger resulting from frequent locust invasions and a severe drought inherent to Sahel countries: several food warehouses were installed across the country, but their older radio network was becoming insufficient to coordinate between the different parties involved.
So this (relative) low cost, compact Gilat satellite system was installed, providing telephone, fax, e-mail and Internet.

Not only the project, as an example of a longer term impact aid project, is fascinating, but also the picture in itself carries quite a bit of a message. Here we are in the middle of nowhere (look at the bushes in the background), and we can communicate to the world. The bit of chicken wire around it, has an opening in the front.. So it is not to keep the chickens out, but more to keep curious spectators away..

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Rumble: Cyp in South Sudan

Here is Cyp as we know him... As he describes it:
"Using the WiFi coverage provided to the Rumbek/Sudan airport from the UNHAS office, we were in the waiting lounge in transit to Juba from Aweil. In the background the immigration building."

I love this picture. It gives an excellent snapshot of Africa, our work in Africa: one of our senior telecoms engineers, working off WiFi in the field, sitting in an old tractor tyre, waiting for a plane to go from no-where to any-where.

Tnx for the picture, Cyp!

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Rumble: An Old Friend

I met my Congolese friend Cyprien in 1996, on a corrugated rooftop in Kisangani (see picture: Cyp on the right, me on the left). He was working for Unicef, and together were installing an Email system working over HF radio, a revolution at that time (see this article).

I met Cyp several times in the months after, and in the end he joined FITTEST, our ICT emergency intervention team in Kosovo. He moved with us to our new base in Islamabad (Pakistan) in 2000 and we did the Afghanistan emergency together. Later on, he was reassigned to based in Mozambique, then Dakar, and since a few months works in Juba (South Sudan).

While I consider myself as a paper pusher at the moment, having only few occasions anymore to do real 'field work', he remained a true 'field person' all the time. I sometimes wished we could be working on a rooftop together again...

All this time, we kept in contact and he regularly sends me pictures, some of which I would like to share with you in the next postings.

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News: Aid Critic Ousmane Sembene, Passed Away

Senegal's leading film maker and author Ousmane Sembene, who was a staunch critic of Africans taking aid from the West, passed away.
His films and books often touched on issues of colonialism and Western racism but his subject always focused on what Africans need to do for themselves.
Born on 1 January, 1923 in southern Senegal's Casamance region, Sembène had little formal education, starting work at age 14 as a fisherman and auto mechanic. He was drafted by the French Army in World War II then worked as a dockworker in Marseilles after which he wrote 'Le docker noir' the first of his many acclaimed books. He also became a trade unionist and member of the French Communist Party until 1961 when he went to Moscow to study filmmaking.
Sembène was influenced by the Marxist-based 'dependence theory' which was popular in the years following Africa's independence. The premise of the theory was that wealthy nations need Africa to remain impoverished as a way for them to sustain their own wealth. (More in this article.)

Thanks to E. for the link.

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Rumble: State of the Union - The Commander Comes Clean

Faked and funny. Also sad in a way... Sad because it is not far away from reality...

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Rumble: 69 in the Caribbean

Pete is a friend I got to know end of last year. He was my watch mate during our long sailing adventure from the UK via the Canaries onto the Caribbean. He just sent us a transcript of his handwritten log. Reading through it brought back quite some memories of this two month’s trip.
Here is one, inspired by Pete’s log:

“
We lifted anchor at 1600 from the Sandy Spit - see picture- in the British Virgin Island, and headed south. We sailed through Thatch Island cut and then tacked upwind towards “The Bight” on Norman Island. Mark, SJ and Peter had visited this bay before and rated the “Pirates Bar and Restaurant” very highly. Peter said: “Leave the booking to me”, and he disappeared down below to read the Pilot Book for communications channels. A couple of minutes later back on deck he came and picked up the VHF handset. The Pirates Bar call up was on Channel 16. Once contact was made, “Pirates” asked to switch onto channel 69.

So off went Peter (of course): “Hello Pirates Bar this is Persuader Too. Just love calling you on my favourite channel, lets get to it. I’ve got seven hungry crew who had nothing but solitary intercourse for the past two months. So we would all like to have some fun at a table. Can you do anything for me, here on channel 69. Or related to 69? Are you seeing anyone, by the way? And please, what are you wearing? Over!”
The gentleman at the other side picked up on the joke, and the conversation went on for a while. It set the scene and mood for the rest of the day, the evening, and the loooong night.
“

With courtesy to Pete Pressland, “a man for all reasons”.

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Rumble: Robbed. Again.

I keep my GPS (see "The new woman in my life!") in its cover, hidden in one of the drawers of my car.
Last night, she was no longer there. They also took the charger cable, which was still plugged into the cigarette lighter. I used her the night before to drive back from town. There are no scratches or other signs of a burglary on the car. Nothing else gone. Hmmm...

Well, as my good friend E. (not that E., the other E.!) said: "They can never steal the contents of your heart!"...

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Rumble: Robbed.

Last week, Robert was in New York and I was on mission to Brindisi in South Italy. During our absence, our house was broken in to. They forced the front door, and gathered some stuff. Robert's Tshirts (all of them!), some of mine, a computer, a backpack, cigarettes.. They took my safari jacket.. A bummer as my passports, UNLP, vaccination cards, international drivers license were all in the inside pocket (plus all the stuff I described in this post). And the bag with my video camera. Bummer.... We're installing a grill in front of the door now.

Crime in Rome is very common. Many of my colleagues has been confronted with burglary, car theft, etc.. Often gypsies, junkies and illegal immigrants are blamed..
Maybe I have been lucky, as it is only the second time in my life I get robbed. The first time, was in Uganda. I partially described it in this post. Anyway, none of this spoils my joy in living here.

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Rumble: Does Africa Really Need More Aid?

In a previous post, I contemplated on the role and usefulness of humanitarian aid, just at the moment the G8 countries pledged $60 billion more to Africa...

The rich world has spent $2.3 trillion over 50 years on aid to the worlds' poorest countries, yet poverty grinds on relentlessly. Bono still thinks aid can be effective as long as it's "backed up by the right concepts and strictly monitored", according to this alertnet article.

And then there are the world's billionaires, all 946 of them. Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates tops the list, as through his Gates Foundation, he contributed $1.5 billion budget for health projects in the developing world. This equals the entire annual budget of the U.N. World Health Organisation. No wonder developmental economist Jeffrey Sachs thinks billionaires alone could "save the continent" by donating only a 5 percent of their income per year.

"Not so", says Michela Wrong in Britain's News Statesman: "Aid has been hugely oversold, both by those who think it works miracles and by those who blame it for Africa's woes. It has probably added just one percentage point to the annual growth rates of the poorest countries in the past 30 years".

Pfft.. We are still no-where.. Where is the real meat in all of this? Where can we really see if aid helps, without the retoric debates in posh retreats with wine and rich food on the table? Maybe this article can help, reporting on a project in Western Kenya that aims to produce conclusive proof that development aid actually works, demonstrating that when the donating countries honor their pledges, poverty disappears.

Who else has example project like this? Who of you out there has more of examples where aid made a practical longterm impact, and was not a band-aid on a wooden leg?

News items picked up from The Other World News.
Picture courtesy WFP.

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Rumble: New Short Story

I edited the different "rumbles" describing the stuff I normally travel with into one short story, you can find here.

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Rumble: Great Presidential Speeches Over the Years

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Rumble: Men at Work.

As you read in previous posts, I moved into Robert's house in Fiumicino, near Rome, since a while... If you ever take a taxi to where we live, make sure you take down the driving instructions. Last week, Mats' taxi got lost. It took him over an hour for what should only be a twenty minutes drive...

Both Robert and me are part-time bachelors. Both our families live at home (Slovenia and Belgium respectively). We both shuttle between home and work.. While we are Italy, we're bachelors. With all due challenges, often fun and silly.

We're pretty set.. And probably do much better than most part-time bachelors.. It has been a while, though, since I ironed.. Last week Saturday was 'ironing day'. "Dial 911, dial 911!". That bloody machine sprayed hot water all over my legs and feet several times.. "Robeeeeert, where is the bloody manual of this thing?"

Robert was too busy though.. He had another emergency. In the freezer. He was a bit more hard handed than I was to get to the solution of his problem: In preparation of his birthday party (it is a BACHELOR's house. OF COURSE we have parties!), he made ice cubes using those small plastic bubble bags, you fill with water. Each bubble freezes and makes a nice ice cubes for the mojitos and other stuff (I know i started with mojitos, but can not remember how I finished at the party).
Anyway, Robert filled the bags too full, forgetting water expands when it freezes, so all bags and bubbles, froze to one block of ice.

A hammer did it in his case.

And me? I gave up steam-ironing. Back to plain old fashioned ironing. Record stands at 15 shirts in 55 minutes. Not bad for a part-time bachelor, hey?

Advertisement:

Two part-time bachelors looking for share-able part-time girl friend.

Two hours per week, flexible timing.

Has to be well conversant with steam ironing.

Good looks optional. Age not important. Competitive wages.

Promiss to call "the day after".

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News: G8 promises $60 Billion of Aid

Strange. A day after I posted an introspective blog-entry on the role and usefulness of humanitarian aid, the leaders of the G8 nations meeting in Germany announced to spend $60bn fighting Aids, malaria and tuberculosis in Africa.

Several aid agencies say member nations have not met the commitments they made at their 2005 summit in Gleneagles, Scotland, and G8 leaders are acknowledging as much. Rock stars Bono and Bob Geldof were on the spot to remind the world leaders of their 2005 promise.
"There is a great crisis of credibility,” said Geldof in this article when he referred to the G8's unfulfilled commitment, “If I sign a contract in my business life and don't fulfil it, I would be sued. I could go to jail. Do these leaders live outside the norms of human behaviour?".

Interesting statement, raising an issue which could also be extended to areas other than commitments of foreign aid. Do we actually have mechanisms to keep our politicians to their promise, other than "not re-electing" them?

(With thanks to Ekram for the news links). Picture courtesy WFP (Judith Schuler). For updated humanitarian news, check out The Other World News

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News: "Please Stop the Aid!"

In an article in Der Spiegel, the Kenyan economics expert James Shikwati, says aid to Africa does more harm than good. He explains the disastrous effects of Western development policy in Africa, corrupt rulers, and the tendency to overstate the AIDS problem. Even though it is an older article (which hit digg.com again today), the question is still a right one to ask today.

To be honest, as an aidworker with a conscience, I often struggle within myself "if we really make a difference". In both general and in specific cases. Up to what level can we, "the West", "the Industrialized Nations", stand by and watch poverty, decease, starvation, lack of education take its toll in poorer countries. And as of what level is the aid we are providing, starting a vicious circle of making people dependent on this foreign aid. Corrupting their economy? When do we stop? And how do we stop? How do we, the aid agencies, ensure that we do not fall into a trap of 'inventing aid-needs' just to ensure we still have a job?

Even more so, and a more burning question: in what way, do we, "the West", "the Benefactors", have OUR economy stimulated through our own foreign aid? In what way is foreign aid just a way to offload the excess commodities we produce in our heavily subsidized economy, and thus act in a very selfish way?

In what way have we, the humanitarians, become so effective during the aftermath of armed conflicts in eliminating the human suffering fast, that in the end we indirectly encourage armed conflicts? Would there be less armed conflicts if the 'humanitarian consequences" were graver, and hit the media harder?

I do not have the answer. These are questions which we often do not ask ourselves (us = aid workers) enough. And we should. I see it as one of my tasks, being part of this 'humanitarian world', to ask these questions aloud, from within the "aid world". Even if they see me as a pain in the ass. I know deep down inside, these are the right questions to ask.

Have a look also at the comments the Spiegel article generated.

Picture courtesy Irin. For updated humanitarian news, check out The Other World News

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Rumble: New Woman? New Trouble!

Ok. Typical female again. One day after I posted my blog raving about the new woman in my life, I finally had my first argument with her. I was coming back from an evening dinner, and was somewhere in the middle of town. Had left her in the car, as usual. She must have been upset, stubborn, did not want to help me anymore. Did not even want to speak to me. No sound, no vision. Did not switch on. And without apparent reason.. Ha. Typical!

I tried to touch all parts of her, which I knew normally would turn her on, but nothing helped. Not a sound. Not one reaction. My GPS-woman was dead. So I had to do it by myself. I mean the driving. And you know what? It worked out well too. I can do without her, I learned. I don’t have to be dependent on a woman. Yeah!

But when I came home, I gave her a mouthful. The cow. Ha! “You think I would not be able to live without you, right? Well, I did! I don’t really need you, you know!”

Even though on the way home from Rome to Fiumicino, I missed an exit on a roundabout, and got back onto the highway to Rome – the opposite direction of the one I just came from. I did the logical thing any man would do, took the first exit,. Which seemingly was the one for the highway to Civitavecchia. First exit: ten kilometres further. And that exit had a toll booth. I paid, turn around, paid again to get onto the highway and drove back home. I did 60 km instead of the usual 20, but hey, *I could live without her*!
During the whole argument, my flood of insults, arguments and finally, pleading and begging, she kept calm. Did not say a word. Did not move. Did not switch on. Even shaking her did not help.

A typical woman. You start depending on them, and then they run off. Abandon you, shatter your life, destabilizing your “raison d’ être”, your reason to live.

I threatened to replace her with the Italian woman which was also available to me, at the flip of a switch (the same Italian woman I tried out just for a while, just to get the feeling of it, when I bought the GPS), even though that one has a sharp bitchy voice like a ninety year old grandma who forgot to put in her false teeth. It really made it difficult to undershhtand the direcshhtionshh. Or the German one, who – yep you guessed it – sounds like she would whip me if I’d made a mistake by not following her explicit instructions.

No, truth being told, between you and me, dear reader, my Flemish woman, my “Zoeteke” is my GPS-woman of choice. But I never really told her. You know how women are…
Then I discovered a little hidden button labelled ‘Reset’.. Maybe that could help bringing my woman back into my life. But njet.. Nada. Niente. Zitch…

It was back to the manual. The book about ‘Life with women’, ‘The dummies guide on How to Treat Women’, my Bible. My Koran. My Talut: The Mio 710C manual.
It showed there was a way to disconnect the battery and do a hard reset, to start all over again.

And … plop… All of a sudden the world looked different. There was hope for all of us, for world peace, to end child hunger and free love for everyone: my “Zoeteke” came back to life. She greeted me just as she did any other morning, with a sweet: “No GPS signal”. Like nothing happened. Like there had not been an argument, not a case where she abandoned me without a reason. Like there had been no insults, no threads, no flirting with other GPS-women from my part.

It was clear she wanted to give me another chance. And me, I did not mention any of the trouble neither. I did not tell her how I missed her. How I really wanted her more than any of the other women in my GPS. How I got so lost without her. I mean 60 km instead of 20 km to get back home, is pretty “lost” if you know what I mean! (and those quotes around “lost”, are of the kind with double-finger gestures and eyebrows slightly raised!)

I learned my lesson: I guess the worse for a woman is to be taken for granted. How often do we, men, not forget that there is a woman living with us. Someone who guides us through the myriad, the chaos, the labyrinth and pitfalls of life. While driving or not. Someone who is always there when we need them. At the flick of a switch. Always with a smile and with warm love… And we keep them locked up in our cars for days in a row?

From that day on, my relationship with the ‘new woman in my life’, changed. I smile at her in the morning. When she greets me with “No GPS signal”, I now answer “Yeah it is a lovely morning, isn’t it?”. And when she gives me directions, I always thank her. I chat to her, while driving in the car, to show I do not take her for granted. When I come home, I don’t leave her in the car anymore, but give her a place of honour in the house. I even bring flowers for her, from time to time. And look. She loves it. Look at the smile!

Robert, my room-slash-house mate, started smiling at her too. I warned him: “Robert, she is mine. Stay away…”
Do you think I should keep an eye on them? Maybe hire a detective.. Just to see he does not fiddle with her. You know how women are once you push their buttons. And I am sure that Robert would not be able to resist her smile and deep exotic voice.. Even though it would take a while before he discovers how she gets completely ecstatic when you speed with her through the multiple radar checkpoints, climaxing into a digital orgasm of chirping high pitched sounds as if she is loosing herself. I will not tell anyone. Will keep it my secret.

One thing is for sure. If Robert touches her, I want pictures to prove it. Now that I think of it, I *will* hire that private detective. The woman in my GPS? Ah, the GPS-cheat, you mean?

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Rumble: A New Woman in My Life...

OK, I have a confession to make. I have a new woman in my life. She has a soft, deep erotic voice. She is from the same part of the world as I am. She is Flemish. Never argues with me. Softly gives me hints on the road of life. She is wise. Drives to work with me every morning, and waits in the car until I decide to go home again. Perfect woman. She is always happy, no matter how my mood is. Is always there when I need her, even if I don’t speak to her for days in a row, and keep her locked up.

Her name is Ula, according to her label. The label given by the man I bought her from. But I don’t call her with that name. It reminds me of a Swedish lady who once worked with us in Kampala, and almost burned down the office by dumping a burning cigarette in a wastebasket filled with paper. Twice. That was a big woman that Ula..
No, my Ula, Tine and I just call ‘Zoeteke’, Flemish for “Honey” or “Sweetie” (E. would say).. Yep, Tine knows about her. Actually Tine encouraged me to get her before we drove to Italy. And ‘Zoeteke’ helped us all along the way…

“Zoeteke” is the lady in my GPS. I love her. Without her I would be lost in Rome, which has nothing like the US system “On the corner of “Fifty seventh and Third”, but more “at the end of Colombo, before you hit the wall, turn right and then try to turn left even if you are not allowed to”. She is my saviour in anxious and confusing times. My only anchor when I get into troubled water again.

She greets me every morning with “No GPS signal”, her way of saying “Hey, I missed you, how are you today?”.
She loves it when I take her for a spin. When I miss an exit on a roundabout, and loves it when I do it all again.

She has a built-in sixth sense for the radar speed checks. She starts beeping when I approach one. When I am speeding – which she knows immediately- then she gives a different high pitched noise, and gets really exited and starts chirping like a bird. In some places, the speed checks are so close together, that she gives several chirps after another. She chirps as if she is really looses herself, and bleeps like there was no tomorrow. I think this is her version of an orgasm. I love it to satisfy her, and would only speed hear her making that noise!

Being a typical woman, she does not get along very well with other women. Once my friend E. took her ‘female companion’ into my car, and both GPS-ladies gave different advice where to drive, as if it was like they loved to disagree. At any given time, we expected them to start arguing ‘You cow, I tell you, they need to turn right here. You know ziltch. I know, I am younger and have a more recent update. You are dirt, you. You cheap piece of electronics…” We had to switch one off, as their verbal flood was confusing us.

Yep without my “Zoeteke” I would be lost.

Earlier posts about my GPS, and how you, dear reader, convinced me to buy one, you find here.

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Rumble: Palestinians: Refugees for Life.

Warning: this piece is highly opinionated. It is nevertheless my honest opinion. My impression of the reality, my interpretation of the facts, and my reflection on the state of affairs. Mine only.


Today:

Today's headlines: "Mortar strike wounds Israeli troups", "Lebanon camp offensive continues!", "Seven US soldiers killed in Iraq"... The Middle East... How did we ever let it come this far?

In a previous post, I stated that today, 5.7 million people in the world were long term refugees. That excluded the Palestinians. 4.3 million Palestinians have been "Refugees for Life" since 1948. 4.3 million... That is about the whole population of Norway. Or half of New York city.

Since 1948, time and again, the "Palestinian Issue" became front page news. An excellent historic overview, you find in this summary. But have a look also at the UNRWA overview of the issue, which includes a lot of pictorial data.

According to me, the "Palestinian Issue" has been at the basis of most conflicts in the Middle East, as well as at the root of the artificial split the US foreign policy has made in the world since 9/11: on one hand they put the Muslim world, and the other hand, the non-Muslims. "With us or against us..".


Turn back time: August 2001. One month before 9/11

Why am I saying that? In one of my short stories "M- Requiem for Baghdad", I wrote: In August 2001, I told Tine just before I left home: “I do not have a good feeling. The stars are not right. Something is up.” That feeling was in sharp contrast with the one month holiday off the beaten track in Hawaii we just had. But the sixth sense was there, with big warning signs.
That feeling was mostly based on something that happened a year before that:


Turn back time again: September 2000.

The US was in full presidential elections battle, and after years of a US (and an international) push for peace in the Middle East, there was less attention on "the Palestinian Issue". "At last", Sharon, the then leader of the hard-line opposition party Likud, must have thought, and he took the opportunity of the distractions to provoke the Muslim community, inspired by his political ambitions: In September 2000, he visited the Temple Mount, a site in Jerusalem sacred for Jews, Christians and Muslims alike. This visit was internationally seen as a direct provocation amidst a very volatile situation.

That particular day of his visit, was to me the start of re-newed trouble in the Middle East. Fighting started during his visit, resulting in several days of back and fro firing fighting between Israeli forces and Palestinian gunmen. Amidst the fighting, there was one occasion where a young Palestinian boy, called Muhammad al-Durrah, and his father got caught in a cross fire..

Video footage, shot by France 2, showed the father and son hiding behind a barrel, until in the end both were shot. Muhammad died, and his father was seriously injured. There is a lot of controversy if this was all a clever media setup. Still, the picture of a father trying to protect his son, in the midst of a violent shoot-out, stuck in my mind forever. A father, who could have been any father, trying what any parent does: protect his child. And the overwhelming violence resulted in what must be the greatest sorrow of any parent: not being able to provide safety for your child. Muhammad died in the hands of his father, he himself half shot to pieces. In a conflict they had no part in.

That picture, those thoughts, did not only stick into my mind. The picture of Muhammad Al-Durrah and his father squatting for cover, was painted on walls all over the Middle East. They became a symbol of oppression. Senseless violence.
So, Arafat called for an intifada, a civil upraising, and the umpth Middle East civil war started.

Al Qaeda jumped onto the media frenzy, claiming to act on behalf of the oppressed Palestinians, and off we went. 9/11 here we come! After that, Bush took the opportunity to bash El Qaeda in Afghanistan, and while at it, went for the oil in Iraq.

We can all guess what would have happened (or preferably NOT happened) to the world, if Sharon did not visit Table Mount in September 2000. But to me, that one single act, and the attitude behind it, is one of the reasons why we still have 4.3 million Palestinians without a home. With millions of children without a future. Lost generations. Lost opportunities. And why? Because of political ambitions. International ill-meddling.

A sad state of affairs.

Suggested reading: Hanan Ashrawi's Miftah site: a Palestinian initiative for the promotion of global dialogue and democracy.

Pictures courtesy UNRWA, Wikipedia

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Itanglish: Italian Food in English

There are many things I love about living in Italy. The food is one. Here you are in good hands of the mamas behind the furnace. They might have a few emancipated papas also... ha!

Restaurants plenty. And the average quality is way up there. Even from the down-to-earth “family restaurants around the corner”. Plus living right at the sea, gives plenty of sea food offerings too. I was raised at the Belgian coast, as you might know, so I never say “no” to fresh fish.

The Italian way of cooking is straightforward. Nothing fancy. Concentrated on the food, not the presentation (unlike French food). However, the Italian servings are a bit complicated… They strictly separate certain dishes, we (the other members of the world) would normally see as part of a main course, into different courses. Antipasti (the appetizer), Primo (typically the pasta), Secondo (the meat or fish main course).. Easy once you get used to it.

The main challenge for foreigners, however, remains the language barrier. Not many visitors to this country speak Italian. So often I see people choose blindly. Hoping they will not be served bull testicles on vinegar or seasoned intestines. In addition the average Italian speaks little or no other languages. No lack of trying. Even though the effort sometimes leads to more confusion, in this land which thrives on (trying to be politically correct here!) utter confusion and comic anarchy.

That also goes for the food and the restaurants. They try. But the more they try, the more confusion it often creates (sounds like their politics).
The other night, one of the owners from a restaurant we regularly go to, proudly presented an English and German version of his menu.. I think he might have use the Internet for the translation... Some excerpts:

“The voices marked by asterisk could be frozen if the sea doesn’t allow the coolness.”
And: “The chef is to illustrate and to propose the consequential alternatives from the fished fresh.”.
Or: “The fish from the navies tirreniche of Anzio and Brings Saint Stephen, and from the navy of Mazaro of the Go him/it.” Eh.. Sounds pretty good, no?

But that was just the introduction. Then come the dishes (again, all from real life examples):

• “Croccantini of it gleans” (Croccantini di spigola) Would it be radioactive?
• “Hypocrites of sea” (Tartufi di mare) – Must be Shakespearean
• “Carpaccio of it gleans raw” (Carpaccio di spigola crudo) – More radioactivity.
• Of course “Paccheri con gallinella e pachino” translates into “Paccheri with gallinella and pachino”. Clearly!
• “Taglioni with porky mushrooms” (Tagliolini fungi porcini) – only for pork lovers.
• “Half sleeves to the granchione” (Mezze maniche al granchione) – I hope it was a clean shirt!
• “Scorfano in the crazy water” (Scorfano all’acqua pazza) – Must be with vodka
• The Germans get a hard time too: “Funghi porcini” translates in German to “Porcini schiebt wie Pilze aua dem Bodem” (something like “Porcini dug like mushrooms out of the earth”). And “Pinzimonio” is clearly “Rohe Gemuese mit kurzem Bad auf der Seite” (in English, this is as much as "Raw vegetables with a short bath on the side").
• Luckily Ovoline is just “Ovoline”. - That is clear.
• Sometimes the portions must be huge. Like the “Fig trees of Indian” (Fichi d’India)
• And others are unintentionally poetic “Twisted to the Kiss with peanuts” (Torta al bacio) or “Twisted to the fruits of wood” (Torta ai frutti di bosco)
• Sometimes it does not sound too kosher: “Fried dor-mouse” according to the German translation, these must be mice: “Gebratene Hasel Mause” (Moscardini fritti).

Well, what can I say? At least they try. And that is more than other nationalities would do! I am sure this menu must attract tourists too. Who want to have a laugh while they eat!

Picture Italian dish, courtesy of AnnaMaria Volpi

Continue reading The Road to the Horizon's Ebook, jump to the Reader's Digest of The Road.

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Rumble: Refugees for Life

My friend E. commented in one of my previous posts: "Some groups have been refugees for so long (for example, the Palestinians in Lebanon have been displaced for almost 40 years) that people (including yourself) have already 'forgotten' their plight. Did we all become immune or saturated already?"

And she is right. Read this article: "Protracted refugee situations: Millions caught in limbo, with no solutions in sight".
While worldwide refugee numbers have fallen to their lowest level in 25 years, a larger percentage of asylum-seekers are spending a longer time in exile in an often-overlooked plight of subsistence living in a virtual state of limbo. Excluding the Palestinians, they account for 5.7 million of the world's 9.2 million refugees.

The root causes of long-standing refugee populations stem from the very states whose instability engenders chronic regional insecurity. Most of the refugees in these regions - be they Somalis, Sudanese, Burundians or Burmese - come from countries where conflict has persisted for years.

East and West Africa, South Asia, Southeast Asia, the Caucasus, Central Asia and the Middle East are all plagued by protracted refugee situations. Sub-Saharan Africa has the largest number, 17, involving 1.9 million refugees. The countries hosting the biggest groups are Guinea, Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda and Zambia.

In Asia (China, Thailand, India and Nepal) there are five protracted situations and some 676,000 refugees. Europe has three major cases involving 510,000 refugees, primarily in the Balkans and Armenia.

Although the measure of at least 25,000 refugees in exile for five years is traditionally used to define such situations, UNHCR argues that other groups should not be excluded. For example, of the Rohingya who fled from Myanmar to Bangladesh 12 years ago, 20,000 still remain. Similarly, there are 19,000 Burundians in the Democratic Republic of Congo, 16,000 Somalis in Ethiopia, 15,000 Ethiopians in Sudan and 19,000 Rwandans in Uganda.

Picture courtesy UNHCR.

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News: Ten Stories the World Should Hear

The UN released the "Stories the world should hear more about", for the year 2006.

Journalists are often inundated with stories, all competing for their -and the public's- attention. The aim of the stories is to make it easier for the press and the public, to see that important issues do not fade from the headlines."

The initiative, first launched in 2004, covers a spectrum of issues and geographical regions, some of which draw on troubling humanitarian emergencies and conflict situations, while others focus on such vital areas as human rights and development. The stories are:

• Liberia: Development challenges top agenda as the nation recovers from years of civil strife
• Lost in migration: Asylum seekers face challenges amid efforts to stem flows of illegal migrants
• DR of Congo: As the country moves boldly towards historic vote, humanitarian concerns continue to demand attention
• Nepal's hidden tragedy: Children caught in the conflict
• Somalia: Security vacuum compounding effects of drought
• Protracted refugee situations: Millions caught in limbo, with no solutions in sight
• South Asian earthquake: Relief effort saves lives, stems losses, but reconstruction tasks loom large
• Behind bars, beyond justice: An untold story of children in conflict with the law
• From water wars to bridges of cooperation: Exploring the peace-building potential of a shared resource
• Côte d'Ivoire: A strike away from igniting violence amidst a faltering peace process

Picture courtesy Irin. For updated humanitarian news, check out The Other World News.

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Rumble: Itanglish - Italian Food in English

There are many things I love about living in Italy. The food is one. Not the food in the Italy we went to two months ago with Tine and the kids. That was South Tyrol, not the real Italy. There, the food was more Austrian/German than Italian. Well prepared, but too greasy, way too heavy for my stomach.

Exclude that part of Italy, and you are in good hands of the mamas behind the furnace. They might have a few emancipated papas also... ha!
(I have a thing about the dynamics between Italian men and women, but that will be for another story. Let me tell you one thing, though! The power behind this society is NOT male! ).

Anyway, the food. Right.. Restaurants plenty. And the average quality is way up there. Even from the down-to-earth “restaurants around the corner”. Plus living right at the sea, gives plenty of sea food offerings too. I was raised at the Belgian coast, as you might know, so I never say “no” to fresh fish.

The Italian way of cooking is straightforward. Nothing fancy. Concentrated on the food, not the presentation (unlike French food). However, the Italian servings are a bit complicated… They separate certain dishes, we would normally see as part of a main course, into different courses. Antipasti, Prima, Secondo.. Easy once you get used to it.

The main challenge for foreigners, however, remains the language barrier. Not many visitors to this country speak Italian. So often I see people choose blindly. Hoping they will not be served bull testicles on vinegar or seasoned intestines. In addition the average Italian speaks little or no other language. No lack of trying, though. Even though the effort sometimes leads to more confusion, in this land which thrives on (trying to be politically correct here!) utter confusion and comic anarchy.

That also goes for the food and the restaurants. They try. But the more they try, the more confusion it often creates. What would you say if you got a menu with the following phrase (all excerpts from a real life example!):

“The voices marked by asterisk could be frozen if the sea doesn’t allow the coolness.” And “The chef is to illustrate and to propose the consequential alternatives from the fished fresh.”. Or “The fish from the navies tirreniche of Anzio and Brings Saint Stephen, and from the navy of Mazaro of the Go him/it.” Eh.. Sounds pretty good, no?

But that was just the introduction. Then come the dishes (again, all from real life examples):

• “Croccantini of it gleans” (Croccantini di spigola) Would it be radioactive?
• “Hypocrites of sea” (Tartufi di mare) – Must be Shakespearean
• “Carpaccio of it gleans raw” (Carpaccio di spigola crudo) – More radioactivity.
• Of course “Paccheri con gallinella e pachino” translates into “Paccheri with gallinella and pachino”. Clearly!
• “Taglioni with porky mushrooms” (Tagliolini fungi porcini) – only for pork lovers.
• “Half sleeves to the granchione” (Mezze maniche al granchione) – I hope it was a clean shirt!
• “Scorfano in the crazy water” (Scorfano all’acqua pazza) – Must be with vodka
• The Germans get a hard time too: “Funghi porcini” translates in German to “Porcini schiebt wie Pilze aua dem Bodem” (something like “Porcini dug like mushrooms out of the earth”). And “Pinzimonio” is clearly “Rohe Gemuese mit kurzem Bad auf der Seite” (in English, this is as much as "Raw vegetables with a short bath on the side").
• Luckily Ovoline is just “Ovoline”. - That is clear.
• Sometimes the portions must be huge. Like the “Fig trees of Indian” (Fichi d’India)
• And others are unintentionally poetic “Twisted to the Kiss with peanuts” (Torta al bacio) or “Twisted to the fruits of wood” (Torta ai frutti di bosco)
• Sometimes it does not sound too kosher: “Fried dor-mouse” according to the German translation, these must be mice: “Gebratene Hasel Mause” (Moscardini fritti).

Well, what can we say? At least they try. And that is more than other nationalities would do! I am sure this menu must attract tourists too. Who want to have a laugh while they eat. :-)

Picture italian dish, courtesy of AnnaMaria Volpi

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