Old tree

 

This valley is not well known at all - access is through a narrow ravine, and the valley is full of old abandoned houses. On top of one of the hills is a whole abandoned village. Will post some pics of that later.

Dubai

 

This was taken on the beach right next to the Burj al Arab - in the this neighbourhood of million dollar homes there are still little pockets of old Arab homes left over. They are fast disappearing though. The land is so valuable that change is inevitable

Sunset on the creek

 

Arabian bees

 

This is the strangest looking beehive I've ever seen, very unlike the African beehives I grew up with. We have three hives like this in the garden. And the bees are not aggressive at all....

11 November - Remembrance Day -

Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant

Do they remember?

"Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence."

Henry Wordsworth Longfellow

Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

How not to get shot

A mate of mine does bomb disposal in Lebanon. We served in the same unit in South Africa many years ago. He wrote this recently. I thought it made sense...

The following is intended to serve as a useful guide to various activists, protesters, migrants and other completely non-violent folk who happen to be packing knives, guns, rocks and crowbars. You will encounter soldiers, border patrol officers and various law enforcement and military personnel-- this is how not to get shot by them.

First of all it's important to remember that if you attack an armed man in a uniform, he will very probably shoot you. Even given the most restrictive Rules of Engagement in the world which forbid him from opening fire unless he is outnumbered 600 to 1, there is a nuclear war in progress and only when he has been given specific authorization by the UN to use deadly force-- there will still come a time when he will open fire on you. This will occur when he feels that he or his comrades are in danger. At this point there will be bullets headed your way, and no matter what you learned at your Madrassa or in Protest Studies at Evergreen State High University, you are not bulletproof. Really, you're not.

The good news is that there is a very easy way not to get shot. It starts with you not attacking the nice men in uniform. That means not trying to disembowel them with your peaceful knife and not throwing rocks at their head. Because while you might think that legal activism includes attempted murder, the nice men in uniform think that attempted murder should result in sudden death. And when that happens you will realize that fanatical passion for your poorly thought out cause and a medieval weapon are no match for trained men who have guns and are comfortable using them.

Thinking of you

The autumn leaves are falling like rain.

Although my neighbors are all barbarians

and you, you are a thousand miles away;

there are always two cups at my table.

Abandoned

Just down river from where we're working there are two ships close to each other. This one didn't listen and was sunk. The other one hit a mine, and is lying on it's side.

Skipping stones

I still kick the round ones to the compound and back, but since we sculpted the beach with these I've re-aquainted myself with the joys of skipping rocks. Childish I know, but I'm at the shore at dawn when the water is like glass and there are a million flat stones just waiting there for me. How can a man resist? My childhood record of 8 skips has now improved to 13...... and my men reckon I really need a break right now.

Southern Cross

If you grew up south of the equator, you’d recognise this. And you’d know where to look to find it. It’s the first thing my Dad taught me about the stars – and it made an impression on me all those years ago.

All those years of living in the bush, sitting around the campfire in the middle of nowhere, I always knew – if I followed the Southern Cross, I’d get home. I may have to walk for months, but I’d get home.

I’m on the wrong side of the equator now, and the sky is foreign to me. But every evening before I go to bed, I go outside. And I look to the south..

Global vagrants

I am but one among a vast army of bold adventurers who have chosen between a life of certainty on firm soil, and a life of surprise on shifting sands. We are the troubadours, seafarers, merchants and explorers of our age. We are vagrants and vagabonds. We have no houses: the world is our home. And wherever we go, we envision. We instruct. We construct. We forge alliances across continents and oceans. We beat the drum to the great march of progress - Kuberkat

Life in the Garden of Eden

The Shamal is blowing, turning the whole world into sepia and covering your life in layers of fine dust.

The elections have resulted in a toal security lockdown. Movements in and around Iraq are virtually impossible. And of course the main contractor forgot to renew their contract with the security company so technically we don't have security to protect us.

And one of the "thick as two planks" excavator operators drowned his piece of equipment in the Euphrates. Took two days of $150,000 a day time to get it out. Needless to say thick-as-two-planks is on his way back home already.

This is the border between Iraq and Kuwait.

Dusty days

We had a dust storm yesterday, the wind was whipping up what seemed like pebbles and sandblasting everything. The wind died down overnight, but all the fine dust hasn't settled.Woke up this morning with a fine layer of dust all over my face. What's left is a murky brown fog of dust that gets in everywhere. Took this pic this morning from one of the barges

I wonder what happened to the corner office with the pretty secretary and the thick carpets and the golf on Wednesday afternoons and the mansion on top of the hill overlooking the ocean??

Iraq, pizza, and elections

I finally received my MNFI card from the American Army yesterday after numerous bouts of form filling, retina eye scans and security interviews. The card enables me to move freely in and out of Iraq, and also within the country. So if you thought Iraq was an independent country - nope it's not. It's controlled by the US Army.

The card has other uses too. Important ones. It lets me buy pizza at Camp Bucca. At one stage the camp housed 28,000 prisoners. They have no more prisoners and the camp is being broken down, but at least the Pizza Hut is open. The food in our compound is good, but once in a while junk food is necessary.

Election fever is building up in Iraq. Camp Bucca and North Port in Umm Qasr was mortared, and a bit more worrying, an arms cache was found in the Iraqi Navy area where we work. Not sure if democracy is ready for the Middle East yet.

The pic isn't mine

Pebbles

The compound is just over a kilometre from the workplace, and although I have an old LandRover I can use, I usually walk to get some exercise during the day. It adds up to 6 or 8km by suppertime.

The dirt road turns to snot when it rains, so they've dumped a load of river gravel on it to manage the issue. To keep myself occupied I choose a pebble in the road and then kick it ahead of me as I walk. Sometimes it goes in an unexpected direction, and then I get another pebble and off I go again.

The last pebble I had lasted almost a week. I'd kick it to work, them kick it back to the compound at lunchtime. The same in the afternoon. But the fucking thing bounced strangely this morning and I lost it. I was getting quite attached to it.

This is my new pebble. I'm calling it Fred and we'll see just how long Fred will last...

Garden of Eden

One of the few advantages of starting work at six in the morning is that you get to see the sunrise.

You want the definition of bleak and desolate? Come see this place. Yes I know the garden of Eden is just up the river, but either they set their benchmark very low, or things get very different upstream of Basra. But at sunrise it all changes. For a brief moment every day, I actually like the place.

Taken on the way to work from the little Iraqi tugboat.

Prague

Prague has become a city where British lager louts go for their stag parties and find a pub with bangers and mash and why the fuck do you want to travel to a beautiful exotic place and then go and eat somewhere so you feel like you're at home?

Prague has a brothel. Yes, I know, it has a lot of brothels - to cater for all the stag parties. This one is different. It's very upmarket. And it's free. It's called Big Sister. You go there, pick a girl (or three) and have the night of your life. And they're happy if you brought your partner/wife/girlfriend along...

The catch? They have cameras in every room. And your activities get streamed live over the internet.....

Would I do it? Well, if I ignore the fact that spousoid would bobbitt me.....
The internet part of it wouldn't bother me at all...

Would you?

Portrait Photography

I'm an introvert, so I tend to shy away from people - which is probably why I never really tried portrait photography. One of my favourite portrait photographers is Andrzej Dragan. My portraits don't look anything like his.

Iraq

I would under normal circumstances never pose for pics of myself holding a gun - it's a bit like telling everyone at the Embassy dinner your favourite musician is Kevin Bloody Wilson. But you can't work in Iraq and not do it - after all, when you go to Prague you will take a pic of yourself on Charles bridge...

There is another sadder side to the pic - this is a war zone. And you never know when you need to use one. So for the first time in 25 years, some practice was in order.

Me on the left.