For 45,000 EU staff, back-dated to 2009.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-11828837
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Rachel
We watched the documentary 'Rachel' a couple of nights ago, about the young American Peace Activist who was killed in Gaza.
She volunteered to be part of a group called 'ISM': the International Solidarity Movement'. This group focuses on areas of the world where injustice is occurring and tries to stop it by using peaceful means of non-cooperation. They were present in Gaza when the wall was being constructed on the 'border' and the land on the Gazan side of the wall was being razed by two bulldozers and one tank. The activists stood in front of the homes that were being demolished, holding up banners and speaking through megaphones, asking the drivers of these vehicles to stop doing what they were doing.
At one stage the driver of one of the bulldozers opened his window, and clearly frustrated shouted "Go away, this is not your war. This is my war". Due to modern technology we now have the ability to have these sorts of exchanges on video and a lot of photographic evidence of what is happening. 100s of Gazan homes were demolished to prove the 'no man's land' between the wall and the town. The activists often stayed, slept and ate in these homes with the local people, which gave the latter a tiny sense that the world cared a little.
All to no avail, however, as the homes were crushed, along with established farmland, water tanks on rooves were systematically shot, and many died from random shootings into the houses. I think most people have heard of the outcome of this documentary: Rachel died under one of the bulldozers, as she tried to stop it. The documentary interviewed her friends, the Gazan locals and the Israeli Defence Force (IDF).
For me the most poignant moment in the film was when one of her friends, who obviously cared for Rachel, said the saddest thing was that this film had been made because an American died: it would not have been made if, and when a Palestinian died.
She volunteered to be part of a group called 'ISM': the International Solidarity Movement'. This group focuses on areas of the world where injustice is occurring and tries to stop it by using peaceful means of non-cooperation. They were present in Gaza when the wall was being constructed on the 'border' and the land on the Gazan side of the wall was being razed by two bulldozers and one tank. The activists stood in front of the homes that were being demolished, holding up banners and speaking through megaphones, asking the drivers of these vehicles to stop doing what they were doing.
At one stage the driver of one of the bulldozers opened his window, and clearly frustrated shouted "Go away, this is not your war. This is my war". Due to modern technology we now have the ability to have these sorts of exchanges on video and a lot of photographic evidence of what is happening. 100s of Gazan homes were demolished to prove the 'no man's land' between the wall and the town. The activists often stayed, slept and ate in these homes with the local people, which gave the latter a tiny sense that the world cared a little.
All to no avail, however, as the homes were crushed, along with established farmland, water tanks on rooves were systematically shot, and many died from random shootings into the houses. I think most people have heard of the outcome of this documentary: Rachel died under one of the bulldozers, as she tried to stop it. The documentary interviewed her friends, the Gazan locals and the Israeli Defence Force (IDF).
For me the most poignant moment in the film was when one of her friends, who obviously cared for Rachel, said the saddest thing was that this film had been made because an American died: it would not have been made if, and when a Palestinian died.
It's War!
There are eight women living in a flat provided by Project Hope. There is an age-range of between 20-60. There are the usual communal problems of washing-up, emptying the bins, making noises, leaving lights on, etc.
How depressing that eight grown people who are here to focus on very difficult and emotionally charged issues cannot even manage to live together for a few brief months without tensions rising and disputes.
But then again, I think this is the nub of the problem: individualism and ego versus community and sharing. Big or small, it starts in the same way, with little issues which are not nipped in the bud by rationality and maturity.
How depressing that eight grown people who are here to focus on very difficult and emotionally charged issues cannot even manage to live together for a few brief months without tensions rising and disputes.
But then again, I think this is the nub of the problem: individualism and ego versus community and sharing. Big or small, it starts in the same way, with little issues which are not nipped in the bud by rationality and maturity.
North Korea
Let's get the truth clear here: South Korea were carrying out military exercises using live arms into disputed territorial waters. The 'line' which has been drawn by South Korea is not accepted by North Korea, and South Korea were firing missiles onto this 'line' in the sea.
I think most countries would see this as provocation, and North Korea fired back, into the disputed waters. South Korea fired back into North Korean territory, i.e. land, and North Korea retaliated by firing back. The USA has now sent a warship to the area, which of course raises the political tensions even higher.
http://tv.globalresearch.ca/2010/11/south-korea-admits-firing-shells-north-korea
I think most countries would see this as provocation, and North Korea fired back, into the disputed waters. South Korea fired back into North Korean territory, i.e. land, and North Korea retaliated by firing back. The USA has now sent a warship to the area, which of course raises the political tensions even higher.
http://tv.globalresearch.ca/2010/11/south-korea-admits-firing-shells-north-korea
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monsanto
An interesting up-date including some revealing PDF files...
http://www.grist.org/article/2009-12-15-seed-behemoth-monsanto-stumbles-into-antitrust-trouble/
http://www.grist.org/article/2009-12-15-seed-behemoth-monsanto-stumbles-into-antitrust-trouble/
John Pilger
One of the most respected investigative journalists in the profession, here is an hour-long video about Palestine, by John Pilger:
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=746557429802139093#
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=746557429802139093#
Monday, November 22, 2010
Project Hope, Palestine
Well the Eid holidays are finally over, and it's back to work on a Sunday morning at Project Hope. We usually have a meeting first thing, to discuss the timetables, organisation and structure of the week, followed by any questions arising. I'm very impressed with the professionalism and dedication of the Office staff, who are never too busy to give us a smile and a kind word.
There are about 8-10 English teachers here at the moment, with some of them doubling up as Spanish teachers, Art teachers and Music teachers, depending on individual specialities. We work all over Nablus, and sometimes outside: for example we work in two of the three Refugee Camps just on the outskirts of the city, at the local Orphanage, at at least two Women's Centres, at the Project Hope office itself, and some of us take trips to other towns outside of Nablus to give lessons - for example I go to Tulkarm, which is 30 minutes away by local service taxi.
I've been 'interviewing' the various volunteers, both local and international, and have really enjoyed talking to everyone, one-to-one, and asking a set of ten rather banal questions, but getting some very interesting answers. I'll probably compile a summary of these interviews later on, but for the moment the heartening thing for me is to hear other people who are either idealists, Utopians or revolutionaries, most with a fervent desire to try to solve the injustices and inequalities that we see all around us. It is refreshing to be able to sit on a balcony and talk with like-minded people about their backgrounds, their philosophies and their hopes for the future.
The Director of Project Hope keeps us stimulated too, with talks, films and debates on the issue, and I'm often reminded of one of John Pilger's books 'Palestine is still the issue'. One of the French volunteers I interviewed said she thought that this is the issue everybody needs to solve, and if we can solve this, we can solve any conflict.
Last night we were shown a film entitled 'Anya's Children' about a Jewish woman who started out supporting the expansion of Israel, and then was horrified by how history was turning out, and eventually built a Theatre in the small town of Jenin, north of here in the West Bank. It was built in the middle of the refugee camp, and all the locals helped. Her son, a filmmaker, filmed all of it, starting from the construction, when his elderly mother was already diagnosed with terminal cancer. She was obviously a formidable woman, even in old age, but what came through in the film was the humanity of all people involved: the Jewish lady and her son, who spoke Arabic, the locals in the camp, and the children.
Then the political situation worsened, and the camp was invaded by Israeli tanks, and this was all captured on film, from 'behind enemy lines' as it were. I do not know the reason for the invasion, and I'm trying very hard in my posts to just tell things as they are on the ground, trying to stay as objective as possible. The tanks came into the camp, however, and destroyed 300 homes, and many locals were killed, including some of the children who had attended the Theatre. As the film spanned 7 years, there was footage of them as kids, then their funerals. The film did not end on an up-beat note.
After the film, most of the volunteers got together for a tea, and talked about it. We all felt rather deflated, and ineffectual, and we have only seen a film, let alone been around when fighting was taking place. Nablus here has been under siege several times, and some of our local volunteers have seen terrible violence and death. We were wondering how we would feel if it happened to us: indeed, one of the most poignant responses I had from a local when I asked him what message he wanted to send to the world was "put yourself in our shoes".
Anyway today was another day of teaching, and I went out to one of the Refugee camps for the first time, as an 'Assistant' to Dan, our resident Art graduate. It wasn't what I was expecting at all, less like a military grid-style camp, but more like an impoverished village, with narrow streets and shops, schools, community centres, etc. We went to a large UN school in the camp, and Dan gave an Art class whilst I sat with some of the girls and helped them. It was a wonderful experience, and the girls were very friendly, the teachers too.
All of us International volunteers are deeply touched by the respect and gratitude we receive from local people, and we are humbled by it. Their generosity is incredible, and the kids smiles and laughter are wonderful. Today I was walking past a car, and the driver leant out and said 'Welcome to Palestine', and there is a tailor's shop near the school, where all of the tailors look up every time I pass and shout 'Good Morning!'
I had a lesson with my 17-year old student today, who was tired as school had started up again after the holidays. He told me he was getting very good grades at school, but that he hated it! He said he wants to travel...
Finally this evening there was a trilingual talk given in the French Cultural Centre: a French lady, who is writing a research paper, spoke in paragraphs which were simultaneously translated into Arabic and English by the School Director and one of the French teachers here who speaks fluent English. The subject was again very interesting, on the phenomenon of walls being constructed all over the world, trying to explore the political, economic and psychological reasons for this. It was stimulating, especially the questions session at the end, as quite a few local people had attended. As one of my interviewees said, to live here is to be political, and certainly you couldn't do what so many people do in the West: order another caffe latte and pretend everything is OK!
There are about 8-10 English teachers here at the moment, with some of them doubling up as Spanish teachers, Art teachers and Music teachers, depending on individual specialities. We work all over Nablus, and sometimes outside: for example we work in two of the three Refugee Camps just on the outskirts of the city, at the local Orphanage, at at least two Women's Centres, at the Project Hope office itself, and some of us take trips to other towns outside of Nablus to give lessons - for example I go to Tulkarm, which is 30 minutes away by local service taxi.
I've been 'interviewing' the various volunteers, both local and international, and have really enjoyed talking to everyone, one-to-one, and asking a set of ten rather banal questions, but getting some very interesting answers. I'll probably compile a summary of these interviews later on, but for the moment the heartening thing for me is to hear other people who are either idealists, Utopians or revolutionaries, most with a fervent desire to try to solve the injustices and inequalities that we see all around us. It is refreshing to be able to sit on a balcony and talk with like-minded people about their backgrounds, their philosophies and their hopes for the future.
The Director of Project Hope keeps us stimulated too, with talks, films and debates on the issue, and I'm often reminded of one of John Pilger's books 'Palestine is still the issue'. One of the French volunteers I interviewed said she thought that this is the issue everybody needs to solve, and if we can solve this, we can solve any conflict.
Last night we were shown a film entitled 'Anya's Children' about a Jewish woman who started out supporting the expansion of Israel, and then was horrified by how history was turning out, and eventually built a Theatre in the small town of Jenin, north of here in the West Bank. It was built in the middle of the refugee camp, and all the locals helped. Her son, a filmmaker, filmed all of it, starting from the construction, when his elderly mother was already diagnosed with terminal cancer. She was obviously a formidable woman, even in old age, but what came through in the film was the humanity of all people involved: the Jewish lady and her son, who spoke Arabic, the locals in the camp, and the children.
Then the political situation worsened, and the camp was invaded by Israeli tanks, and this was all captured on film, from 'behind enemy lines' as it were. I do not know the reason for the invasion, and I'm trying very hard in my posts to just tell things as they are on the ground, trying to stay as objective as possible. The tanks came into the camp, however, and destroyed 300 homes, and many locals were killed, including some of the children who had attended the Theatre. As the film spanned 7 years, there was footage of them as kids, then their funerals. The film did not end on an up-beat note.
After the film, most of the volunteers got together for a tea, and talked about it. We all felt rather deflated, and ineffectual, and we have only seen a film, let alone been around when fighting was taking place. Nablus here has been under siege several times, and some of our local volunteers have seen terrible violence and death. We were wondering how we would feel if it happened to us: indeed, one of the most poignant responses I had from a local when I asked him what message he wanted to send to the world was "put yourself in our shoes".
Anyway today was another day of teaching, and I went out to one of the Refugee camps for the first time, as an 'Assistant' to Dan, our resident Art graduate. It wasn't what I was expecting at all, less like a military grid-style camp, but more like an impoverished village, with narrow streets and shops, schools, community centres, etc. We went to a large UN school in the camp, and Dan gave an Art class whilst I sat with some of the girls and helped them. It was a wonderful experience, and the girls were very friendly, the teachers too.
All of us International volunteers are deeply touched by the respect and gratitude we receive from local people, and we are humbled by it. Their generosity is incredible, and the kids smiles and laughter are wonderful. Today I was walking past a car, and the driver leant out and said 'Welcome to Palestine', and there is a tailor's shop near the school, where all of the tailors look up every time I pass and shout 'Good Morning!'
I had a lesson with my 17-year old student today, who was tired as school had started up again after the holidays. He told me he was getting very good grades at school, but that he hated it! He said he wants to travel...
Finally this evening there was a trilingual talk given in the French Cultural Centre: a French lady, who is writing a research paper, spoke in paragraphs which were simultaneously translated into Arabic and English by the School Director and one of the French teachers here who speaks fluent English. The subject was again very interesting, on the phenomenon of walls being constructed all over the world, trying to explore the political, economic and psychological reasons for this. It was stimulating, especially the questions session at the end, as quite a few local people had attended. As one of my interviewees said, to live here is to be political, and certainly you couldn't do what so many people do in the West: order another caffe latte and pretend everything is OK!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Ignore this Topic at your peril...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUzu-4IS4zM&feature=player_embedded#!
Although I've been banging on about this for over a decade, it's now going mainstream.
http://petrole.blog.lemonde.fr/2010/11/18/peak-oil-why-the-pentagon-is-pessimistic-exclusive/
...even the US Military are worried about it. Incidentally, Matt Simmons (author of the book mentioned) was highly critical of the BP spill in the Gulf of Mexico, and died suddenly of a heart attack earlier this year.
Also, did you know that the CEO of BP sold over half of his BP stock before the disaster? And Goldman Sachs also got rid of huge amounts of their BP shares, before the event that is now killing all the life in the Gulf? I'll dig out the references if you like, but it's all there on the internet.
Now, where are the keys to my Hummer??
Although I've been banging on about this for over a decade, it's now going mainstream.
http://petrole.blog.lemonde.fr/2010/11/18/peak-oil-why-the-pentagon-is-pessimistic-exclusive/
...even the US Military are worried about it. Incidentally, Matt Simmons (author of the book mentioned) was highly critical of the BP spill in the Gulf of Mexico, and died suddenly of a heart attack earlier this year.
Also, did you know that the CEO of BP sold over half of his BP stock before the disaster? And Goldman Sachs also got rid of huge amounts of their BP shares, before the event that is now killing all the life in the Gulf? I'll dig out the references if you like, but it's all there on the internet.
Now, where are the keys to my Hummer??
Friday, November 19, 2010
Columbia
Good Morning Columbia!!
...and thanks for reading...
14 countries and counting - please share :)
...and thanks for reading...
14 countries and counting - please share :)
Jericho
Yesterday I went to Jericho - what a great title for a book! But no, it was just a day-trip out from Nablus. I went to the local service-taxi station, and was pointed towards the correct minibus. What a great idea this shared transport is: they wait until the bus is full (7+ people) and then set off for the destination. If we had these in London or Paris, a lot of congestion could be avoided.
Anyway, I've always loved the hustle and bustle of stations and airports, and have spent many an idle hour, during my back-packing years, just watching the people come and go. Yesterday was no exception, as the Jericho bus did not fill up quickly, as opposed to the Ramallah bus, which leaves pretty frequently. So we waited. I was given pride of place in the front passenger seat, and this afforded wonderful views. After 40 minutes we were off, heading first south, then after the check-point, turning east.
I had one of those WOW! moments, as we weaved our way up and around and over some of the hills here, to come out onto the edge of an escarpment: and the whole Jordan Valley lay before us, as far as the eye could see, with a backdrop of mountains. There was a haze, pollution or dust it's difficult to tell, but the panorama was breath-taking. In the foreground, soft treeless hills, scoured by ravines from the rains and looking like elephant hide, then there was the valley itself, criss-crossed with Bedouin paths and roads, and partially filled with huge polytunnels.
In truth this is what I came here for, not for the Biblical references. I had been annoying everyone with my tracabilite questions, about the origins of the food to be found in the Nablus market, to be told many times that it came from the Jordan Valley. So I came to see for myself, and it's true: hectare after hectare of green, irrigated produce, much of it covered by either brown chain-link cloth (to prevent scorching?) or thin plastic, with some of the produce out in the open, but in neat lines. This was the first food I had seen growing, apart from the ubiquitous olive trees, since I arrived, and I was fascinated.
Peppers, aubergines, courgettes, tomatoes, parsley, mint, sweetcorn, vines, dates...Finally I had seen where the local food came from, and the limited food-mile calculation was impressive. As we whizzed past the 'farms', it was difficult to see too much, but I did spot the signs on the entrances in Hebrew, so I gather they were Israeli-run operations. This is surprising, as my book tells me that the Jordan Valley was given back to Palestine as part of the Peace Accords.
But no Palestinian would put up a sign written in Hebrew, so I had to believe what my eyes were telling me. I wanted so much to ask questions but a) I don't speak Arabic and b) it wouldn't be wise to ask too many questions. Our minibus was stopped at an impromptu check-point, where lazy soldiers with automatic weapons slung over their shoulders, asked us for our papers in the midday heat.
It was the first time I had been addressed directly, and the only question was 'where are you from?'. He seemed satisfied with my reply 'England', and I was not asked to produce my passport, even though I had remembered to bring it with me this time. My fellow passengers, all locals, were not so lucky and had to produce papers and answer questions, and some numbers were read into a mobile-phone. After five minutes we were allowed on our way, but the resentment was palpable.
Finally after one hour we arrived in Jericho! The guide-book had warned me it was small, so I was not surprised that in half an hour I had seen the centre. I had the best falafel sandwich yet of this whole trip: fresh flat-bread, falafel, salad, fried aubergine, chips, gherkin and tahini sauce. For 60p. I went back an hour later and got a second one!
I decided not to walk the few kilometres to the local religious sites as it was very hot, and maybe I'll come back another time. In fact I was here 30 years ago, when I crossed the border from Amman where I was visiting a friend who worked at the British Embassy, but I can remember nothing about that trip. I did see a sign, however, for the Allenby Bridge, where the border is.
I did make an effort to go an see the 2000-yr old Sycamore tree, which has huge historic significance. Strangely, it is now inside the grounds of a massive new building, with fences all around and very well-maintained gardens (grass-wow!!). It was still being built, but resembled the White House in its imposing facade, and although smaller was no less impressive. Who, I asked myself, is investing a lot of money building this beautiful edifice, when all around the other buildings are old, crumbling, dusty, collapsed, derelict?
The answer was provided by two very friendly locals, who were sitting on a make-shift bench opposite the site, watching the hard work and drinking orange-juice. I was offered a welcome drink just as I passed by - they are very hospitable to strangers - and I asked the question. Despite the local's poor grasp of English, and my complete lack of Arabic, we got there in the end, and can you guess which country it is?
Russia!
Anyway, I've always loved the hustle and bustle of stations and airports, and have spent many an idle hour, during my back-packing years, just watching the people come and go. Yesterday was no exception, as the Jericho bus did not fill up quickly, as opposed to the Ramallah bus, which leaves pretty frequently. So we waited. I was given pride of place in the front passenger seat, and this afforded wonderful views. After 40 minutes we were off, heading first south, then after the check-point, turning east.
I had one of those WOW! moments, as we weaved our way up and around and over some of the hills here, to come out onto the edge of an escarpment: and the whole Jordan Valley lay before us, as far as the eye could see, with a backdrop of mountains. There was a haze, pollution or dust it's difficult to tell, but the panorama was breath-taking. In the foreground, soft treeless hills, scoured by ravines from the rains and looking like elephant hide, then there was the valley itself, criss-crossed with Bedouin paths and roads, and partially filled with huge polytunnels.
In truth this is what I came here for, not for the Biblical references. I had been annoying everyone with my tracabilite questions, about the origins of the food to be found in the Nablus market, to be told many times that it came from the Jordan Valley. So I came to see for myself, and it's true: hectare after hectare of green, irrigated produce, much of it covered by either brown chain-link cloth (to prevent scorching?) or thin plastic, with some of the produce out in the open, but in neat lines. This was the first food I had seen growing, apart from the ubiquitous olive trees, since I arrived, and I was fascinated.
Peppers, aubergines, courgettes, tomatoes, parsley, mint, sweetcorn, vines, dates...Finally I had seen where the local food came from, and the limited food-mile calculation was impressive. As we whizzed past the 'farms', it was difficult to see too much, but I did spot the signs on the entrances in Hebrew, so I gather they were Israeli-run operations. This is surprising, as my book tells me that the Jordan Valley was given back to Palestine as part of the Peace Accords.
But no Palestinian would put up a sign written in Hebrew, so I had to believe what my eyes were telling me. I wanted so much to ask questions but a) I don't speak Arabic and b) it wouldn't be wise to ask too many questions. Our minibus was stopped at an impromptu check-point, where lazy soldiers with automatic weapons slung over their shoulders, asked us for our papers in the midday heat.
It was the first time I had been addressed directly, and the only question was 'where are you from?'. He seemed satisfied with my reply 'England', and I was not asked to produce my passport, even though I had remembered to bring it with me this time. My fellow passengers, all locals, were not so lucky and had to produce papers and answer questions, and some numbers were read into a mobile-phone. After five minutes we were allowed on our way, but the resentment was palpable.
Finally after one hour we arrived in Jericho! The guide-book had warned me it was small, so I was not surprised that in half an hour I had seen the centre. I had the best falafel sandwich yet of this whole trip: fresh flat-bread, falafel, salad, fried aubergine, chips, gherkin and tahini sauce. For 60p. I went back an hour later and got a second one!
I decided not to walk the few kilometres to the local religious sites as it was very hot, and maybe I'll come back another time. In fact I was here 30 years ago, when I crossed the border from Amman where I was visiting a friend who worked at the British Embassy, but I can remember nothing about that trip. I did see a sign, however, for the Allenby Bridge, where the border is.
I did make an effort to go an see the 2000-yr old Sycamore tree, which has huge historic significance. Strangely, it is now inside the grounds of a massive new building, with fences all around and very well-maintained gardens (grass-wow!!). It was still being built, but resembled the White House in its imposing facade, and although smaller was no less impressive. Who, I asked myself, is investing a lot of money building this beautiful edifice, when all around the other buildings are old, crumbling, dusty, collapsed, derelict?
The answer was provided by two very friendly locals, who were sitting on a make-shift bench opposite the site, watching the hard work and drinking orange-juice. I was offered a welcome drink just as I passed by - they are very hospitable to strangers - and I asked the question. Despite the local's poor grasp of English, and my complete lack of Arabic, we got there in the end, and can you guess which country it is?
Russia!
I've seen them!
No, nothing Holy or Divine...but the jets that fly overhead. I was looking too low. Yesterday I spotted what I thought was a white paper bag, way up high, floating around on the thermals. But after a while I realised that I was watching a jet, turning and circling in the sky, way above us here.
It was the noise that made me look up, and I doubt many other people have the time or inclination to keep scouring the skies for the origin of this noise. Maybe it's because I live in a very quiet and peaceful place, that I don't accept the constant noise of aeroplanes? I don't know, but I then traced its movements in the sky, only to see a second one join the first, turning, tipping, circling.
These were most probably Israeli jets carrying out training missions, and they are different from the black jets which also fly over, lower, often causing that sonic boom I mentioned. The nearest commercial airport is Tel Aviv, I have no idea where the nearest military base is. Anyway I can hear the sound of the engines arriving slowly in one ear, then it fills my head and the space in the Nablus valley, and then trails off out of the other ear, dying away slowly, to be replaced some half an hour later by another.
It was the noise that made me look up, and I doubt many other people have the time or inclination to keep scouring the skies for the origin of this noise. Maybe it's because I live in a very quiet and peaceful place, that I don't accept the constant noise of aeroplanes? I don't know, but I then traced its movements in the sky, only to see a second one join the first, turning, tipping, circling.
These were most probably Israeli jets carrying out training missions, and they are different from the black jets which also fly over, lower, often causing that sonic boom I mentioned. The nearest commercial airport is Tel Aviv, I have no idea where the nearest military base is. Anyway I can hear the sound of the engines arriving slowly in one ear, then it fills my head and the space in the Nablus valley, and then trails off out of the other ear, dying away slowly, to be replaced some half an hour later by another.
Nablus, Palestine 19.11.10
There are a couple of hours every morning when the city is calm: Nablus, like Paris, is not a place that gets up early. The sun is already up by the time I venture out on to the balcony, with my freshly-brewed local coffee (boil water in pot, add fresh coffee, return to heat three times until cooked, pour off top slowly, leaving coffee at bottom of pot).
Next door there is a closed-up house. This is a pity, as it is a lovely house, well-kept and grand. In the garden there are mature fruit trees: grapefruit, orange, satsuma, jasmin, lemon and another orange, in that order. Since I have been here, just over two weeks now, I have watched the oranges get slowly more orange, then turn darker orange, and now, one by one, drop to the earth.
There is no-one there to pick them up, and the walls are too high for children to climb in: in any case, I don't think they would, this being an urban population. So the fruit is left to rot - even the birds don't eat citrus fruit.
What a metaphore this is for the situation here: growing slowly, ripening, maturing, dropping and rotting, through neglect. Someone ought to do something, waste is a terrible thing.
Next door there is a closed-up house. This is a pity, as it is a lovely house, well-kept and grand. In the garden there are mature fruit trees: grapefruit, orange, satsuma, jasmin, lemon and another orange, in that order. Since I have been here, just over two weeks now, I have watched the oranges get slowly more orange, then turn darker orange, and now, one by one, drop to the earth.
There is no-one there to pick them up, and the walls are too high for children to climb in: in any case, I don't think they would, this being an urban population. So the fruit is left to rot - even the birds don't eat citrus fruit.
What a metaphore this is for the situation here: growing slowly, ripening, maturing, dropping and rotting, through neglect. Someone ought to do something, waste is a terrible thing.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Crash JP Morgan, Buy Silver!
Want to get your revenge on those hedge-fund hyenas? Max has started a campaign where Joe Bloggs can safe-guard his wealth whilst getting even with the banks, as JP Morgan are short-selling silver, which means they are telling the markets they can produce the goods at a certain price when they don't even own it! The silver market is 100 times over-sold, so you'd better hurry and get some silver coins!
http://maxkeiser.com/
...or gold if you can afford it!
http://maxkeiser.com/
...or gold if you can afford it!
What the Future Holds
http://www.zerohedge.com/article/chris-martenson-and-james-howard-kunstler-explain-how-world-going-get-rounder-and-bigger-aga
I don't actually like this bloke much, but he talks some sense in this interview. Note the bit about getting 20 acres and a mule!
I don't actually like this bloke much, but he talks some sense in this interview. Note the bit about getting 20 acres and a mule!
Gold (2)
Apparently, there is $54,000 of cash in circulation for every physical ounce of gold. The share price is at $1350 per ounce. So, what do you think this means if we go back to the gold standard?
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