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~ Free Thinker.

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Monthly Archives: May 2016

THE BEADY EYE ASKS YOU TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE LIST OF WHAT IS BAD ABOUT FACEBOOK.

30 Monday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Modern Day Communication., The Internet., The world to day., Unanswered Questions., Where's the Global Outrage.

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE ASKS YOU TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE LIST OF WHAT IS BAD ABOUT FACEBOOK.

Tags

Facebook, Facebook and Society., Google/Amazon/Facebook/Twitter

 

Yesterday day I was surprised by the interest in my post which asked:  Is Facebook destroying Relationships.

So while the subject is fresh in my head have you by any chance noticed yourself feeling less friendly toward Facebook lately?

If so, you’re not alone.Afficher l'image d'origine

Facebook knows practically everything about me.

Its facial-recognition software is so good, it recognizes me in photos.

The more Facebook feels like a big stage, the less inviting it becomes.

You’ve probably noticed how the “friends” who show up in your News Feed most often aren’t the ones whose lives you’re most interested in but simply the ones who have a lot to say.

Now that Facebook is an enormous, everyday part of our existence on this rocky sphere, I think we have to ask if its growth is making us happy or encouraging us to do things that make us, ultimately, not happy.

So let’s see if Facebook takes any notice of what is wrong by compiling a list to see if ultimately, Facebook doesn’t care what kind of content gets shared or who’s sharing it, as long as it’s able to capture an ever-larger share of its users’ attention minutes.

There’s no question that Facebook is changed our lives.

It has ingrained itself into the daily lives of digital-age users in a way that is affecting all of us. When Facebook was founded in 2004, it began with a seemingly innocuous mission: to connect friends. Some seven years and 800 million users later, the social network has taken over most aspects of our personal and professional lives, and is fast becoming the dominant communication platform of the future.

As with any new (or newly discovered) technology, the impact of the end product is largely in the hands of the user. We are, after all, only human — with all the joy and sadness, decency and ugliness that that entails.

But here are some of the things I dont like.

I am sure that sooner or later, each Facebook user has occasion to ask the same questions.

Which is not to say it’s all “likes” and “shares” and happy kid pics, wedding announcements? Thing of the past. Birth announcement?

Just as ordinary users once got the unpleasant sense that Facebook was becoming a venue for professionally produced corporate content.

I don’t like their timeline.

I don’t like that Facebook is fundamentally positive, with no dislike button.

I don’t like that it is becoming a major contributors to career anxiety for the Young.
I don’t like that it steer you toward certain online behaviors.
I don’t like that it is filling our heads with the Hypnotoad from Futurama.
I don’t like that it is creating a form of social television. Pitching itself as a parallel Web, based on relationships and sharing rather than content (the value is in the connections).
I don’t like that it is building immense value off all sorts of emotional and psychological inadequacies?
I don’t like that it is creating an online culture of competition and comparison. In a sense it is a kind of socially powered online game that is actually making us miserable.
I don’t like it reminding me that I am getting old. Nostalgia is part of life. But, with Facebook, getting nostalgic represents detailed updates on your mundane day are mind-numbing.
It is cramming more and more features onto your page. It is becoming ever clearer to the content makers how little Facebook cares about what any of them do. That’s what all this boils down to.
I don’t like the fact that it is attempting to monopolize your eyeballs and associated personal data to what it thinks you like.
That’s what Facebook will become tomorrow ANAlOG CRYSTAL Ball based on unverifiable data.Afficher l'image d'origine
Facebook is what people make of it.
Remember it can be hacked and that in a hundred years from now it will be full of dead people. 
ALL CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE LIST WELCOME. IF WE MANAGE TO GET A WELL SUPPORTED LIST; WE WILL SENT IT TO FACEBOOK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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THE BEADY EYE SAYS: FACEBOOK IS DESTROYING RELATIONSHIPS.

29 Sunday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Modern Day Communication., Technology, The Internet., The world to day., Where's the Global Outrage.

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Facebook, Google/Amazon/Facebook/Twitter, Social connections., Social Media

( A three to four-minute read)

I suppose before I write this post I need to declare I am a Facebook user. One of every 13 people on Earth is a Facebook user.

Among 18-to-34-year-olds, nearly half check Facebook minutes after waking up, and 28 percent do so before getting out of bed.

The idea that a Web site could deliver a more friendly, interconnected world is bogus.

When the telephone arrived, people stopped knocking on their neighbors’ doors.

Social media bring this process to a much wider set of relationships. Social connections—has been dramatic over the past 25 years.

Facebook, of course, puts the pursuit of happiness front and center in our digital life.

Social media—from Facebook to Twitter—have made us more densely networked than ever. Yet for all this connectivity, new research suggests that we have never been lonelier (or more narcissistic)—and that this loneliness is making us mentally and physically ill.

A considerable part of Facebook’s appeal stems from its miraculous fusion of distance with intimacy, or the illusion of distance with the illusion of intimacy.

The real danger with Facebook is not that it allows us to isolate ourselves, but that by mixing our appetite for isolation with our vanity, it threatens to alter the very nature of solitude.

We are beginning to design ourselves to suit digital models of us.

We look to technology for ways to be in relationships and protect ourselves from them at the same time.

The ties we form through the Internet are not, in the end, the ties that bind. But they are the ties that preoccupy.

We don’t want to intrude on each other, so instead we constantly intrude on each other, but not in ‘real time.

Facebook imprisons us in the business of self-presenting, and this, is the site’s crucial and fatally unacceptable downside.

Facebook creates loneliness.

The depth of one’s social network outside Facebook is what determines the depth of one’s social network within Facebook, not the other way around. Using social media doesn’t create new social networks; it just transfers established networks from one platform to another.

For the most part, Facebook doesn’t destroy friendships—but it doesn’t create them, either.

Our Internet connections are growing broader but shallower.

I think Facebook is primarily a platform for lonely skulking.

WHY?

Because Internet communication allows only ersatz intimacy.

Surrogates can never make up completely for the absence of the real thing.” The “real thing” being actual people, in the flesh.

One-click communication — the lazy click of a like. Passive consumption and broadcasting — correlates to feelings of disconnectedness.

We are living in an isolation that would have been unimaginable to our ancestors, and yet we have never been more accessible.

Over the past three decades, technology has delivered to us a world in which we need not be out of contact for a fraction of a moment.

In a world consumed by ever more novel modes of socializing, we have less and less actual society.

We live in an accelerating contradiction: the more connected we become, the lonelier we are.

We were promised a global village; instead we inhabit the drab cul-de-sacs and endless freeways of a vast suburb of information.

The effects of Facebook on a broader population, over time.

On whatever scale you care to judge Facebook—as a company, as a culture, as a country—it is vast beyond imagination.

Facebook is interfering with our real friendships, distancing us from each other, making us lonelier; and that social networking might be spreading the very isolation it seemed designed to conquer. Facebook encourages more contact with people outside of our household, at the expense of our family relationships.

In the face of this social disintegration, we have essentially hired an army of replacement confidants. We have outsourced the work of everyday caring.

Facebook capacity to redefine our very concepts of identity and personal fulfillment is much more worrisome than the data-mining and privacy practices that have aroused anxieties about the company.

We are left thinking about who we are all the time, without ever really thinking about who we are.

Facebook denies us a pleasure whose profundity.

We are underestimating: the chance to forget about ourselves for a while, the chance to disconnect.

Sending out a friend request, then waiting and clicking and waiting and clicking—a moment of superconnected loneliness preserved in amber. We have all been in that scene: transfixed by the glare of a screen, hungering for response.

It’s the quality, not the quantity of social interaction that counts. Social capital—the strength and value of interpersonal networks.

Loneliness is not a matter of external conditions; it is a psychological state.

The question of the future is this:

Is Facebook part of the separating or part of the congregating.

Does the Internet make people lonely, or are lonely people more attracted to the Internet?

Facebook is merely a tool, and like any tool, its effectiveness will depend on its user. If you use Facebook to increase face-to-face contact,it increases social capital. Casting technology as some vague, impersonal spirit of history forcing our actions is a weak excuse.

We make decisions about how we use our machines, not the other way around.

So here is some advice:

The beauty of Facebook, the source of its power, is that it enables us to be social while sparing us the embarrassing reality of society— Is it taking liberties by reminding your so called friends that your Birthday is arriving, by posting your memories, by passing your data to other servers.

A connection is not the same thing as a bond, and that instant and total connection is no salvation, no ticket to a happier, better world or a more liberated version of humanity.

The relentlessness is what is so new, so potentially transformative. 

Facebook never takes a break.

Instead of  sending a private Facebook message is the semi-public conversation, the kind of back-and-forth in which you half ignore the other people who may be listening in you should be using it as a signpost to what is wrong with the World.

Click the like button and Face book will log it. Make a comment and Facebook might take note.

 

 

 

 

 

 

have the lovely smoothness of a seemingly social machine. Everything’s so simple: status updates, pictures, your wall.

 

 

 

 

 

Today, the one common feature in American secular culture is its celebration of the self that breaks away from the constrictions of the family and the state, and, in its greatest expressions, from all limits entirely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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THE BEADY EYE SAYS: IF WE NOT CAREFUL DONALD TRUMP PRESIDENCY IS JUST A MARKED X AWAY.

28 Saturday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Politics., The USA., The world to day., Unanswered Questions., Uncategorized, Where's the Global Outrage.

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE SAYS: IF WE NOT CAREFUL DONALD TRUMP PRESIDENCY IS JUST A MARKED X AWAY.

Tags

Next USA President., The Future of Mankind

 

On January 20, 2017, if Trump is sworn in as the 45th president, he would suddenly gain control of the world’s most powerful military force.Afficher l'image d'origine

This is not just an American problem. Donald Trump is a threat to the entire planet.

It’s probably time to stop laughing. Trump is an authentic American and he represents the face of authentic America. It’s gone from funny to, wow, this is really scary. But nobody is losing too much sleep:

Such an event could not be happening at a better time. The world is still feeling the effects of the capitalist mainframe gone haywire. Trump has been ranked the sixth greatest threat to the global economy, putting him level with jihadi terrorism.

We, all of us, have underestimated Trump every step of the way.

The bottom line now regardless is that voters have a chance to elect Donald Trump in November. “That’s how Mussolini got in, that’s how Hitler got in.”

Money, Money, Money, it’s all about money.  He is apparently worth an estimated 8.7-10 billion dollars.

Sounds hard to believe doesn’t it?

A nation that elected its first black president just eight years ago will now rush to embrace a man who has offended Mexicans, Muslims and others. The possibility that Trump might actually win fills great swaths of the planet with dread – with the apparent and notable exception of Vladimir Putin’s Russia – with concerns over everything from trade to the nuclear trigger.

Donald Trump, the man who calls Mexicans rapists, promises to ban Muslims from entering the country, considers women little more than objects, refuses to reveal his tax returns, has never even heard of America’s nuclear deterrent, and calls for an end to the minimum wage, is doing so well that some already have him beating one of the best-known and more qualified politicians on Earth.

On top of his notorious pledge to ban Muslims, the candidate suggested that America would stop buying Saudi oil unless Riyadh provided troops to fight Isis he promised on Thursday to pull the United states out of the UN global climate accord. and to approve the Keystone XL oil pipeline from Canada. He received loud applause from the Oil Executives.

If it was not for the Constitution you would define America as a sick sick country and by historical definition the United States today is a tyranny where a swaggering billionaire is taking advantage of a “naive America”making an important contribution to anti-American sentiment around the world.

If another American president would invade Panama, would invade North Korea, would invade Vietnam, that would give China superpower status because America would weaken itself. During the election campaign, Trump has repeatedly bashed China.

If he does win he will be different surrounded by advisers telling him what to do.

First thing he should do is pull down the Statue of Liberty and erect a Selfie. Afficher l'image d'origineStatue of Liberty Inscription

 

And replace the Plaque with:     Gone to lunch.

It’s a huff choice. Afficher l'image d'origine

 

 

 

But you can rest assured you have seen nothing yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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THE BEADY EYE SAYS: SHAKESPEARE QUESTION “TO BE OR NOT TO BE” HAS COME BACK TO HAUNT ENGLAND.

26 Thursday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in England EU Referendum IN or Out., Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE SAYS: SHAKESPEARE QUESTION “TO BE OR NOT TO BE” HAS COME BACK TO HAUNT ENGLAND.

Tags

England EU Referendum IN or Out.

 

The main reason for Britain joining the EU was for the economic benefits, so obviously it shows that in the age of globalisation and increased competitiveness, Britain cannot act alone.

Perhaps IS BEST THAT we look at it from the EUROPEAN SIDE.

Why because there are two EUs in Britain.Afficher l'image d'origine

One is bashed in the Sun and the Daily Mail every day for ripping off Britain, sending over hordes of unwanted migrants, and forcing Brits to eat regulation square tomatoes.

The other is so deeply embedded in the UK’s legislation, business, trade, and foreign policy that most people do not notice it’s there.Afficher l'image d'origine

So what if any effect will there be on the EU if England votes to leave or stay.

The EU will lose some membership fees provide less for its members at a higher cost.

If Britain leaves it will be  easier for other countries to insist on their own special exceptions – for example, to the deficit and debt “requirements” established in the Maastricht Treaty – Brexit could pose serious problems for the EU’s future evolution.

Both Britain and the EU will It will a portion of their trading market which in turn, will weaken the Europe’s economic region.

The EU will save billions in EU subsidies to English farmers and lose some fishing rights.

The EU could counter one of England’s most controversial provisions to stay in ( Britain to withhold in-work benefits from EU migrants who have been there for less than four years) by increasing trading tariffs.

If it leaves or stays the EU will have to own up to its failures, damaging the political idea of the EU and disturbing the self-satisfied dust that has settled over Brussels.

Britain if it stays in does not want to be committed to further political integration into the European Union which potentially lead other countries to reassess their own membership.

If it leaves the EU could charge the English for European visas unless the UK accepts free movement of people. A British builder, or scholar, or artist, or businessman, does not need a special permit to live in Paris, Barcelona or Berlin.

Britain was one of the founders of the European Court of Human Rights in 1959. These rights were established by the European Convention on Human Rights, signed by Britain and much influenced by British jurists. An English withdrawal from the European Arrest Warrant could mean it takes longer to extradite suspects from other European countries.

Then there is Sterling; If it leaves it will become more volatile, trade flows may be diverted or delayed, and some investment in British trade-related industries would be put on hold.

And of course Sovereignty. It is not absolute, inside the union or outside it. Just look at Facebook transferring all your personal data to American Servers.

You if you have not noticed are living in world where Data is King.

One more thing worthy of note. Not Immigration, Not the NHS, Not the lack of housing, not the strain on Services, ENERGY.

IF THE VOTE IS FOR OUT: YOU CAN BE CERTAIN THAT THE EDF AND THE CHINESE SOVEREIGNTY FUNDS WILL ABANDON HINKLEY POINT AND ALL OTHER PROJECTS.

There would be no more complaints from Britain against member states if they feel their rights have been breached.

It could save funds by the cancellation of UK European Health Insurance Cards.

It Britain goes the EU will have to admit that its hard-and-fast ground rules in order for states to participate, — say, keeping below a maximum debt level in order to retain membership in the euro zone have being broken willy nilly. Its member states of today have pretty much broke every one of these rules.

Already, EU members – especially the euro zone countries – have been avoiding concrete action to resolve their interdependent economic, social, banking, debt, and currency crises.

If the vote is for out a future re-entry, if desirable, would be difficult to negotiate (perhaps especially given European leaders’ desire to deter other member states from following the UK’s example).

The choice comes down to : Do you want to be a hostage to the bloc’s failing fortunes? or wallowing in memories of faded pomp and circumstance.

The Question is: To be or not to be “European.”

You are right to say that the EU is not worth staying in without fundamental reform.

And reform cannot be achieved from without.

Will Britain leave the European Union?https://youtu.be/VDij4vbS5ng

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THE BEADY EYE ASKS: DID MAN CREATE GOD?

24 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Humanity., Life., The world to day., Unanswered Questions., Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE ASKS: DID MAN CREATE GOD?

Tags

Creation., God or no God., The Future of Mankind

The scientific attempt to explain religion has been around for over a century.

All seeing eye awesome wallpaper

They, however they are, say we are all made from the same star stuff.  Which is kind of hard to believe if you’re having your head cut off by ISIS.

I have always told my friends that I was created not born.

If you look back over history I am certainly not the first.

The principle of causation is fundamental to my claim.

So who or what created me?

If God was the beginning who began God?

I suppose that something which had no beginning has no need of a cause but on the other hand that something can begin without a cause is not only unreasonable, it is arguably inconceivable.

Consider, that if the greatest beginning of all—that of the universe—had no cause whatsoever! what would be the reason for it or us to exist.

So we left with the Big bang picture of the universe that started off very hot and cooled as it expanded is in agreement with all the observational evidence we have today.

Nevertheless it leaves a number of important questions unanswered …

Why is the universe so uniform on a large-scale?

Why does it look the same at all points of space and in all directions?

Did we create God to give it a cause or the other way around.

Scientists might never work out how life could arise by natural processes. Matter came into being without any cause; so they also have to believe that life itself popped into existence without an adequate cause.

This leave us to ponder whether the cause of the universe’s beginning must have been super-natural, i.e. non-material or spirit—a cause outside of space-matter-time. Such a cause would not be subject to the law of decay and so would not have a beginning. That is, the cause had to be eternal spirit. God created time itself.

Thus, He is not limited by anything in the universe, including the future, since God created time itself .“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” If we can believe this verse he did it in the dark as he created light after.

Today’s atheists, in a non-prophet organisation the origin of our universe is a vexing problem. The very state of the observable universe today presents serious problems for them, as it demands a Creator.

I have three questions for any atheists to answer:

“How did nature choose the specific laws which control the universe, as deduced from observation?”

“How did the universe start off with an initial state in such a high degree of homogeneity?” This is the initial condition required for the big bang to produce the currently observable universe.

“Why, after 13.8 billion years since the big bang, is not the universe in thermal equilibrium?” In fact, why is it so far from equilibrium?

They might point to Quantum Mechanics.

But Quantum mechanics never produces something out of nothing. Quantum fluctuation must presuppose that there was something to fluctuate.

The quantum vacuum is a type of something. It has properties. It has energy, it fluctuates, it can cause the expansion of the universe to accelerate, it obeys the (highly non-trivial) equations of quantum field theory.

Where, for starters, are the laws of quantum mechanics themselves supposed to have come from? So if you hang your theology on quantum cosmology for the creation of the universe, you would be sorely wrong as it is deficient and assumes time to exist, among other problems.

The electromagnetic arrow of time: information carried by light comes to us from the past and not the future. We remember the past and not the future.

Biology is defined by the presence of self-reproducing organisms. This reproduction process took millions of years to get us to where we are today so that nobody can really prove anything. We are said to have evolved from monkeys and apes … but we still have monkeys and apes. 

Modern man is a pretty new species, with modern humans being only 200,000 years old.  But religion is, at best, 6- to 10,000 years old (depends on where you get your source from)

So man lived for over 190,000 years and one day just got up and created a god.  Why?  What did man do for 190,000 years when there was no god? Where did the evolutionary change come from that made modern man such a genius?

Why would man, 6,000 years ago, decide that we need consistency in this life – that everybody needs to believe and think the same way? 

It’s not too long ago that we worshiped the Sun as a God.

STEPHEN HAWKING Says:

“Recent advances in cosmology suggest, the laws of gravity and quantum theory allow universes to appear spontaneously from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist.”

This is an abandoned theory, an old idea by people who wanted to rationalize things with their primitive knowledge.

It means that something is created out of nothing, which is impossible according to the law of conservation of mass.

Here is some of the scientific stuff which to be honest is somewhat beyond my pea brain.

The principle that matter can neither be created nor be destroyed, now part of the first law of thermodynamics.

“The Three Laws of Thermodynamics.”

The principle that matter can neither be created nor be destroyed, now part of the first Law of Conservation of Energy, states that energy cannot be created or destroyed in an isolated system.

    • The first law, also known as Law of Conservation of Energy, states that energy cannot be created or destroyed in an isolated system.
    • The second law of thermodynamics states that the entropy (iinevitable and steady deterioration of a system or society, a measure of the amount of disorder in a system.) of any isolated system always increases.
    • The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system approaches a constant value as the temperature approaches absolute zero.

Outside of the concept of time, there is also no concept of something beginning or even ending; in fact, the word “eternal” has no meaning as it suggests a linear progression into infinity, which is also another concept that does not exist within our temporal framework.

Man fumbles in dark trying to explain something completely beyond their ken and then curses and rejects it because they cannot understand it, but it does not change what it is.  How is it that so many intelligent people fall into this trap?

If one says that God must have a beginning, then they trap Him within His own creation and He is clearly outside of it.

It’s not science, it’s a choice, a belief system that allows man to believe he only has to answer to himself.

All religions are creations of man designed within their time and societies.

For me God is unconditional LOVE.

I can reach for excellence but perfection is God business.

 

 

 

 

 

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THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

22 Sunday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

(NOT TO BE CONTINUED)

Afficher l'image d'origine

Djibouti :

 Afficher l'image d'origine

What I Know:

 French.

 I book into the Hotel Relais.   Within the hour the power of the Dash has me driving out to the main gates of the docks to meet a customs official. Twenty minutes later armed with a seal, a sealing gun and stamped documents he hands me the keys to a forklift. “I will be back in a few hours, “he says pointing to a container, which happens to be on top of another container.Afficher l'image d'origineAfficher l'image d'origine

A heavy dollar shake handshake he leaves. In the middle of the night never having driven a forklift I was looking at prospects of lifting a container, not to mention loading it and wiring up Williwaw so she does not move during her forthcoming sea passage.

After a few ear-splitting practice run on a similar container that would have woken the dead I am backing away with ebbing confidence to deposit an enormous steel box with a resounding bang to arouse the whole of Djibouti’s French armed forces.

Not a living soul appears.

Opening the doors of the container I drive Williwaw to the entrance. She won’t fit in due to her roof rack. I deflate her tyres but she is still a fraction to high. The front of the rack where I stored my tool/spares/ jerry cans will have to be flattened. It takes a half an hour searching to locate the hacksaw. Four am the job is done, batteries unconnected, wired up, blocked, I close the doors on our faithful friend.

With dawn breaking there is no sign of my customs official I let myself out.   Walking back to town a pungent waft of cooking arouses my hunger. All a quiver I sit down to a large breakfast. Eight am I on a flight back to Addis the journey is over not quite.

On landing in Addis I am arrested. Apparently I have a single entry visa.

There is no interest as to why I have arrived from Djbouti or that I have a flight booked to the UK in a day’s time. I have no proof other than the export papers for Williwaw that I left Ethiopia. No passport stamp.

Six hours of haggling, explaining that I was due to leave in a day’s time. That I needed to pick up my belongings from Paulo address were all having no effect. Once more the might of the dollar has to come to the rescue > Flight 207 leaves on time with me on it.

At the start of this narrative I was asked why Africa. I suppose the answer is because it feels like the original Continent the Cradle of life.Afficher l'image d'origine

Would I do it again. Is the Pope a Catholic.

Donation News: To be honest I did not expect anything other than Zero. So I thank all those that took the time and interest to read the Journey as we are all on the same journey and we will all leave with zero. However I Fanny and Flo will leave with what money cannot buy an enriched life.

So lets us take some time out and consider:

 

The World gone wrong:

 

Looking back from the Moon human activities on earth do not show up.

By the Year 2030 there will be 50% more of us – 6 million a month.   Our headlong collision with Nature makes us number one enemy of the Earth.

The technology to wipe out civilization is getting cheaper while we turn back the evolutionary clock by pumping  8 billion tons of carbon into the atmosphere each year wipe out 50,000 species each year in collective denial.

Humanity will have to put aside the deep divisions it has maintained for thousands of years. Find a new spirit of human co-operation.  Stop spending trillions on arms and start spending it on the environmental crisis now facing our very existence.

There can be no trade-offs between economic development and the protection of the environment.

One-fifth of the world’s present day population live in the “rich world “consuming 86% of the world’s goods with over half the people on earth trying to live on 2$ a day and the absolute poor on a !$ making up !.! Billions.

Another word the Gross Domestic Product of the poorest 48 nations is less than the wealth of the world’s three riches people combined.

You don’t have to look far to see why we have terrorism. Poverty and Inequality spawns it.

Since Sept 11 2001 the USA has launched a war on terrorism making sure that poverty will remain on the bottom of the issue priority list.

 The bottom line.

Our Democracies seem unable to achieve any progress such as mitigating climate change, better managing ecosystems, creating a fair global trading system but we have the knowledge ,data, and technologies to do all of these things.

The question is not so much “How could we have learned so little in all these years? But “How could we have learned so much and done so little?

My advice is to stop supporting large world corporations that don’t show a corporate social responsibility, Use face book, twitter as tools to expose pressurize and praise till earth becomes a fair home for all its inhabitants human and otherwise.

HERE IS MY PLAN TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

A world aid tax:

All stock exchanges transactions worldwide, sovereign funds, lotteries, and the like should be brought into the United Nations and made sign a charter that would compel them to forsake a small percentage of their profits.

The funds generated by this tax would then be the cornerstone of a new World United Nations Investment Fund.

30% of the FUND TO BE FOR                                    GENUINE DISASTER AID.

These funds would change the United Nations Aid programme from being a helpless G2O begging organisation to an organisation with its own clout.

70% of the FUND TO BE FOR                                 WORLD INVESTMENT.

The Investment fund to be operated by independently appointed experts from the world business community. Each country represented in the United Nations to submit a candidate for election to its board:

All successful candidates being subject to re-election every five years:

THE FUND TO BE NAMED > THE UNITED NATIONS INVESTMENT FUND:

This fund would then to be placed on the world stock exchanges where it would benefit from the one virus that is consuming the world.

Greed:

By placing The Fund on the world stock exchange it would ensure the fund transparent. i.e. standing, on its own successes and failures.

All projects requiring funding to be submitted (other than genuine humanitarian aid) for approved by the board to establish their cost and viability.

The successful projects to be funded would then be placed in a yearly drawn on a ‘lotto’ base. This would cut out any interference from political corruption or pressure outside groups.  

The yearly Draw to be featured on an independent United Nations TV channel.

A dedicated United Nations Web site would monitor the projects > reporting on their progress and certify their completion while allowing all who are interested to follow the lucky projects progress.

I leave you with this thought –

The culture of growth for growths sake must be

brought to a halt before the gap between our distant past and the not so far

away future is unrepeatable. It is heart breaking what we are doing to our

world so open your eyes and look before it’s too late. THE Future belongs to

now.

BOB.

 

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THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK: CHAPTER TWENTY: SECTION TEN.

21 Saturday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Literature., Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK: CHAPTER TWENTY: SECTION TEN.

Tags

Best Travel unpublished book., Top readable travel book, Travel book that will inspire you to travel., Travel.

 

(CONTINUATION)

His welcome is warm and genuine and over dinner, we caught up on all his news and learn that he is to receive a visit in the morning in the form of some Vatican priests. They wish to look over his stewardship of Vatican Aid package.   Their pending visit has him in a state of high stress. “How can you explain to these Druids the problems I have here? “ Take for instance the other week I attempted to introduce three tribal chiefs to the joys of eating shell-fish” “ You would not believe the reactions when I put a lobster on the table” > Two of them jumped out the window while the other unsheathed his knife and attacked the lobster as if it was a monster.

While Paulo rolls his fifth joint a change of bedding is secured and the girls retire for the night.

We are late rising. Paulo Papal visitors are getting an ear full as we slip out on foot to give Dirae Dawa the once over.

Established in 1902 to service the rail link from Djibouti to Addis Ababa it was once the second largest populated town of Ethiopia. If you take its name phonically we did not have to explore for long to confirm that Dirae Dawa is indeed a Dour Dump.

Apart from the old part of town with its market, it is void of any charm. It’s no wonder Paulo smokes to escape its hot sticky dust-rasping climate and the sense of desolation it etches into everyday living > A godforsaken corner of Ethiopia.

We take a horse-drawn taxi called a Gari back to the shade of Paulo small garden. We find him in good form. Overall the Papal envoy was pleased with his work even if they are completely baffled when it came to understanding the cultures he was dealing with. “Take the Afar people of the Danokil desert which you are going to cross in the next few days. “ They like lopping off the testicles of intruders they don’t like.” Say, Paul.

We arrive at a government-run Hotel. Paulo’s man turns up looking rather sheepish. I don’t understand a word but it is more than obvious that the Vatican visit is being discussed and that the cover-up operation is being put into action. I am commandeered to drive in the morning to a village named Arabi thirty-five kilometres from the Somalia border. That settled I spend the next hour talking about my coming crossing of theAfficher l'image d'origine Afficher l'image d'origine

Apart from getting my goolies cut off by one of the fiercest people in the world. The good news or as the Afar call it the Dagu is that I won’t have to worry about the bureaucracy of getting out of Ethiopia.   Paulo, as usual, is full of information such as don’t tangle with the Ugugumo   > whoever they are. Never mind the dry sand, dry gravel beds, rocky lava flows, burning salt flats, and temperatures of up to 120º F – along with the odd carcase of camels tanks or goat.

I get him to marks out the route on my map. Follow the railway line to Āysha, and on to Ali SabiŽ, from there you cut inland to Wê’a, and then you are home and dry all the way to Djibouti. A mere three hundred and sixty kilometres without any hitches you should drive it in a day. Returning to his house I can’t help but think of the hitches > Punctures, overheating, fuel, water, not to mention Murphy’s law.

While the girls rest I take a run downtown with Paulo to search out one of his helpers. The short car ride after the Papal visit with Paulo is a running commentary a crash course in Ethiopian problems. “You know that when an Ethiopian say’s he would like to play with you he does not mean he or she wants to have sex with you.” All they want is to talk.” “ The problem is that when it comes to aid the Ethiopians are staggering between a good for nothing Western present and a collapsing African past.” “ It’s all to do with the unbridgeable traditions of other cultures.”

Next morning with the wind packing enough sand to scour windshields we set off for Arabi.   In the first few kilometres, all signs of human habitation are left behind. Fanny observing that any cultures that had camped out here, had long disappeared. It soon became self-evident why Paulo had invited us. There was no way his clapped out car could have handled the territorial punishment being handed out.

We bump along with him rattling on about the IMF, the World Bank, and Anthropologists. “You know that almost every project that the World Bank is involved in here 24% of them are failures.” “Why you might ask because they know nothing about the weather and how it affects the bonds of friendship.”

“ The only Aid schemes that work are those run by the people themselves.”

“To be successful you must by-pass the local politicians, the government, tribalism you have to knit into how the people tick otherwise they have no interest in making the Aid sustainable.” “Small is beautiful and young a blessing as they are not yet tarnished by corruption or dim-witted by chat.”

We arrive midday into what I can only describe from a distance as a version of an Ethiopian or Somalia Eskimo village. The obvious difference being that this one is set in searing heat without a hint of white or for that matter any colour other than burnt brown. The igloos are built from cooking oil cans. Like giant CD they glisten in the sun with such intensity that I am sure one could see them from space. As to what Paulo is doing or wants here is anyone’s guess and we are made none the wiser as he disappears with a few shady looking characters.

Williwaw, as usual, is attracting in no time some considerable attention.   What is quite apparent is that this place has a poisonous sense. Once a refugee camp it is now a Timbuktu on the Somalia border. Small arms carried by glazed eye men too dark to be Ethiopians are everywhere. The place imparted a sense smouldering danger.

With an ill of ease nagging feeling of being watched for an opportunity rather than out of curiosity, we are left to our own devices. Keeping Williwaw insight we take a wander over to a few women selling chat. They are less than welcoming. We are not of the tribe, the clan, the extended family, or a Fat cat buying Chat for his loyal subjects.

We are relieved when we eventually depart with a silent Paulo. No matter how I pressed him on the return journey as to what exactly he was doing he gave no definite answer just a load of dribble about how he needed to use his contacts.

Next morning we return to Addis after a long arduous day of motoring.

With a fitful night of sleep under our belts, I am waving Adios to the girls and heading downtown to make my own arrangements. Their journey has come to an end as the vapour trail disintegrates in the blue sky on another day.

I am expecting a long day of regulations which no one knows and which are made up on the spot. The shipping of Williwaw from Djibouti to the UK, my flights back to Addis from Djibouti and onwards home to the UK.

After all, I have heard and read about the difficulties of exiting Ethiopian to my surprise I have Williwaw booked on a ship, my return flight to Addis and departure flight to England all done and dusted before lunch.

I have allowed myself a day’s drive back to Dira Dawa – forty-eight hours to cross what is written by the National Geographic as ‘hard to imagine a more brutal landscape than Africa’s Danakil Desert’ > A day to see Williwaw off return flight to Addis a day’s rest in Paulo house before my departure from Africa in six days time.

I spend the rest of the day trading in Williwaw tyres for a new set of Perrelli’s and giving her a pre Desert check over > Oil Change, radiator, brake/clutch fluids, battery, fan belts, shock absorbers, wheel nuts, tyre, pressure, exhaust, in other words – the works.

At the crack of dawn, I set off knowing the road the long drive back to Dira Dawa.   Wonderful until I reach the Arba Gugu foothills when the sky’s once again open making a mockery of my preparations for a crossing of a desert with an average 47ºC.   Now there is a high likelihood by the time I arrive the Danakil will have returned to the red sea where it came from 10,000 years ago.

For the next few hours, I slip-slide my way along a very muddy road, avoiding miserable looking goats, and the odd donkey mounted by an Ethiopian with white tunics glued to their backs.

It’s hard to imagine that this country suffers from rainfall failures that result in millions dying from famine.

On arrival, there is no sign of Paulo.

Luckily in the morning, it is back to blue skies. Full fuel tanks, sun, and a high sense of adventure I set out for Djibouti. The rough rocky strewn road out of Dira Dawa disappears before the last building is out of my wing mirrors. The ground still has some drying to do after yesterday’s rain.

Following the railway line, the first obstacle is not what I expected to see > A river. Its sparkling brown muddy snaking waters give me an eerie feeling up my spine. There is no obvious crossing point and no signpost pointing up or down to a crossing. The only good thing is that it does not look too deep or wide.Afficher l'image d'origine

To my right, the railway crosses are on a high bank the water passing underneath through two large concrete pipes. I drive up river and on seeing tracks commit the deadly sin of not walking the crossing before driving in. I am no more than a two-car length into the water when I take a nosedive up to the bonnet > Williwaw konks out to a resounding Fuck, Fuck, and Fuck.

Who is going to believe this?   We have driven across the Sahara, the Namib, up Skeleton Coast, over the Caprivi Strip, around the Kalahari and here I am stuck in water on the verge of the Danakil.   This is just too Irish to be true. Out I get up to my waist, wade ashore and sit on a rock.   One thing is for certain there will be no help arriving.   The last person I had passed was well over an hour ago.   Walk back to town, which would take most of the day, was also a non-runner. Considering my ETA in Djibouti if I was to make the ship, there was nothing for it but to haul her out > Easier said than done with the nearest excuse for a tree some distance from the bank.

My only option is to winch her out. The first problem is that my hijack is bolted to the front bumper that now happens to be submerged in brown water.

One hour later with much cursing and the odd ducking, I have managed to undo it. Next problem is in securing a wincing point.   With no handy tree, and no rocks in a suitable pulling position to jam the high jack behind I have to hammer in my own purchase points for the jack.

Thank god for my rear split pin towing point and more importantly that my chain reached the shore. Click by click, meter by meter, moving and securing the jack for every meter I slowly haul her out. Four hours later the bonnet is open my shorts are dry and now all I need is for the engine to start. A spry of anti-damp a turn of the ignition key, a cough or two and Eureka the lion roars. For once I want to kiss her.

Repacked I head further up the river losing sight of it for a half a kilometre. I eventually arrive at what looks like from the tracks the main crossing place.

This time I wade in up to my waist and explore the footing. All seem well.   Reaching the opposite bank for a split moment I have my second Ethiopian Everest experience.   An adrenalin shot associated with conquering Everest.   Right in front of me is more water I am on a small Island or I am looking at another river. Cresting the bank I shit myself It turns out that the shock is more severe than the crossing. This water is shallow and its existence of the long strip of land can only be put down to yesterday’s rain that has taken a new split divide.

Midday > having spent most of the morning swimming I have not yet reached the outer parameters of the Danakil nor have I bumped into any Ugugumo so I still have my balls.

It’s now one thirty and I am back on track following the railway line.   The next landmark according to Paulo is an outcrop of rocks on a raised foothill that has a sign on it saying if you have a drop of water to spare pour it on the plant.   From here on it is down into the saltpan and then flat-out for Djibouti. To my surprise, an outcrop appears and there is a sign appealing for a drop of h2o.

The view is stunning sweeping away as far as the eye can see, clothed in hues of silver mixed with shades of browns, reds and yellows a vast silent empty landscape dances in the heat.

Djibouti lies Lat 11º: 35´N. Long 43º: 08´E. It is at this point I leave the rail line and become a microdot follow my compass. With windows wide open I disappear into the vastness.

The going is a lot slower than I had expected as my morning dip has put me way behind schedule. Thirty-odd kilometres it looks like I am not going to arrive in Djibouti before midnight.   Slowly the piste gets flatter and my speed picks up. With the driving requiring 100% concentration, I am pretty exhausted and hungry but there is no time to stop.

With a deafening explosion two Mirage Fighters out of the setting sun pass overhead turning into a blip on a radar screen. I am no longer a microdot the prospects of a reception committee are now more than likely. My late arrival combined with the added likely hood of having to deal with unwanted braid make it touch and go that Williwaw will be on the ship for her departure in the morning.

With the ground turning to hard flat salt Williwaw afterburners are full on > An UFO being tracked by heat-seeking missiles on collision with Djibouti. The last sixty kilometres penetrated by my spots lights go whizzing by I arriving miraculously undetected.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Donation News: Hopefully by the time I arrive in Djibouti some generous reader will have donated a few bob to the next trip.

Robert Dillon. Account no 62259189. Ulster Bank 33 College Green Dublin 2

Sorting Code 98-50-10.

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THE BEADY EYE ASKS: WHY WE SHOULD STILL BELIEVE IN CAPITALISM.

19 Thursday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE ASKS: WHY WE SHOULD STILL BELIEVE IN CAPITALISM.

We live in a world of brutal Capitalism, where money largely runs our lives in political systems of capitalism exploitation whether it be Chinese Communism, American Democracy, Singapore Tolerationism , Brazilian Corruption, Venezuelan Socialism Russian Pictorialism, North Korean Isolationism, money rules the roost.

Today our culture celebrates money and wealth as the benchmarks of success.

“The dominant class at the world level . . . has become the enemy of all humanity.”    Afficher l'image d'origine

Capitalist society is indelibly marked by structural violence, as the vast inequalities in wealth and access to which it gives rise lead small minorities to be overwhelmingly privileged, while large groups of others are prevented from meeting their basic needs.

In a recent post I stated that if we define the future as a time that looks different from the present, then most people aren’t expecting any future at all.

Why?

Because radical change cannot be advanced within the capitalist framework we have at the moment.

Poverty is deepening and the gap between rich and poor is growing.

About one in four Americans already lives in real poverty.

Capitalism’s periodic crises always increase poverty.

Even a cursory examination of the depth of human suffering perpetuated historically and contemporarily by the hegemony of capital should lead disinterested observers to agree that the catastrophic scale of violence for which this system is responsible can be considered nothing less than genocidal, however shocking such a conclusion might prove to be.

What is today is beyond comprehension is the puzzling consent granted to this system by large swathes of the world’s relatively privileged people – specifically, those residing in the imperial core of Europe and the United States in light of the ever-worsening climatic and environmental crises.

A serious commitment to end poverty and its costly social effects requires us to face that capitalism has always reproduced widespread poverty as the other side of profits for a relative few.

Here are a few horrendous supporting facts:

Obesity taking the place of hunger as a problem in modern capitalistic countries.

216,000 farmers committed suicide between 1997 and 2009, largely out of desperation over crushing debts they accumulated following the introduction of genetically-modified seed crops, as demanded by the transnational Agreement on Trade-Related Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS, 1994)

Merely consider the millions who succumb to AIDS on the African continent each year or the other millions who perish in the region annually due to lack of medical treatment for complications within pregnancy or conditions such as diarrhea and malaria, themselves catalyzed by pre-existing background malnutrition.

The capitalist pharmaceutical industry, which famously and “logically” invests an overwhelming percentage of its research and development funds in highly profitable schemes for lifestyle drugs directed at first-world consumers.

Societies subjected to the rule of capital since its historical emergence – and that particularly felt by the world’s presently impoverished social majorities – is, instead of being an aberration or distortion of market imperatives, central and inherent to the division of society along class lines and the enthronement of private property.

The ever-increasing annual death toll for which capital-induced climate destabilization is responsible will merely cause the overall number of 10 million annual preventable deaths to burgeon, leading ultimately perhaps to the deaths of “millions – or even billions,” in what may well develop into the extermination of humanity altogether.

Do we care? Not really.

Most people’s worldviews currently reflect the values of capital,” at least within more affluent northern societies, and that capitalism proceeds with its genocidal proclivities while enjoying “the apparent consent of a significant portion of the world’s population.”

We are well on the road whether through impending nuclear war, environmental collapse or a combination of these two to extermination.

We all missing the point.

Our economic problems go far beyond rich bankers, too big to fail financial institutions, hedge funds billionaires, off shore tax avoidance or any other particular outrage.

Market capitalism is broken. For the past decades, finance has turned away from its traditional role. Only a fraction of the money makes it into mainstream Business.

THE MAJORITY OF LENDING IS AGAINST EXISTING ASSETS. MAKING THE RICHER RICHER.

THERE IS NO SUCH THINK AS FREE MARKETS. THEY ARE STATE DRIVEN- DIRECT MARKETS.

We are in desperate need of a new and more inclusive style of Capitalism to enable long-term decisions.

As the Pope recently said; And I quote, ” idolatry of money and the dictatorship of an impersonal economy” in which ” man is reduced to one of his needs alone: consumption. ”

By engaging in mindless consumerism, thus perpetuating the vicious cycle.

The unintended consequences of consumption at all costs belief is now coming home to roost and manifesting itself in myriad ways.

For example;

Billions are now left insecure in their old age because tax code favours debt over equity.

Global debt levels hit $57 trillion distorting local economies.

Debt has become indispensable to maintaining any growth where 70% of output is consumer spending.

We seen Government pumping trillions in monetary stimulus into their economies in the form of Quantitative easing which enrich mainly the wealthiest 10% of their populations that own 80% OF ALL STOCK.

Big tech companies are underwriting corporate bonds.

This year US presidential Election has nothing to do with democracy. It is funded by hedge- fund barons.

Globalisation and technology advances are leading to job destruction.

Apple one of the most successful companies over the last fifty years has around $200 billion sitting in the bank yet it borrows billions because it cheaper to borrow than use their own cash and pay taxes. 

The system itself cannot be overthrown or dismantled we must use the existing structure of Capitalism against itself. 

There is no longer any prospect for the outright, peaceful replacement of capitalism even if it is showing signs of changing for the better. 

If prosperity is created by solving human problems, a key question for society is what kind of economic system will solve the most problems for the most people most quickly.  

There is also a growing awareness among businesses large and small that screwing over people and the environment is bad business in the long run.

As capitalism struggles with questions of social responsibility, corporations increasingly realize that they do not and cannot exist in isolation pursuing self interest.

We must take what is good in all systems and create a new Eco-socialism.

Instead of looking at GDP as an important metric, run a country as if it had a corporate balance sheet. This should include things like the value of everyone’s leisure time, the value of natural resources not yet used, and the overall health of the people

It is the world’s poor who so far have suffered the most from capitalism’s degradation of the climate, despite having contributed next to nothing to the perpetuation of this world-historical problem:

Inequality is something that isn’t addressed by capitalism.

So the question is:

In which system can we be more happy?

It is collective thinking and arrangements versus individualism.

I say neither. Capitalism is a dog-eat-dog system. What we have is crony capitalism,

The conventional economic theories we have relied upon for the past century have misled us about the workings of capitalism. Only by replacing our old theories with better and more modern ones will we build the deeper understanding necessary to improve our capitalist system.

We have the ability to turn away from products that we don’t like and go to businesses we support.

The possibility of the overthrow of capitalistic governments by armed force cannot be excluded. Yet, it is no longer inevitable, or even likely, that in the event of armed conflict all communist countries would be united against capitalistic countries. The likelihood of global nuclear devastation if war does break out, however, removes this eventuality from the realm of economic or political analysis.

It is not capitalism’s inability to produce national income that is responsible for these remnants of poverty.

It is rather sectoral, organizational, and distributional difficulties, which have not yet been overcome. Whether through impending nuclear war, environmental collapse or a combination of these two only time will tell.

(See previous post on one Solution to solve Inequality. A world Aid Commission)

All comments welcome. Like button clicks not welcome.

 

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THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK. CHAPTER TWENTY: SECTION NINE

17 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Literature.

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK. CHAPTER TWENTY: SECTION NINE

Tags

Best Travel unpublished book., Top readable travel book, Travel book that will inspire you to travel., Travel.

The last of tar road soon disappears and we can wait to leave behind the scorched terrain for the cooler air of the mountains. The going is slow and as always the Harer map dot turns out to be far further afield than we had thought.

Most of Ethiopian roads are metal roads, well constructed but highly puncture prone.   As we climb, the skies begin to turn and the first drops of rain explode on the road in small plumes of dust.   It’s not long before the dust turns into clinging mud and visibility all but disappears.

We eventually in darkness arrive in Hirna call it a day and check into Wegegan Hotel that has by now a larger river flowing past its entrance. At US3$ a room it is clean with a small bar and restaurant that produces an Ethiopian style omelet that rumbles in our stomachs for most of the night in time with the thunder.

Morning breaks clear and fresh making the valleys surrounding Hirna look like fresh oil painted landscapes. Breakfast is more of last night’s leathery omelets which we skip settling for some strong coffee and stale bread. While Fanny showers and dons her burnt face Florence and I go for a stroll.

In the market place we attract more than our fair share of attention. Walking back I ask Florence without looking over her shoulder to have a stab as to how many young kids are following us. “Fifty.” No. “One hundred.” > No. > “Two hundred.” No. She turns around to be confronted by almost a street full.

Wearing jumper’s one-hour later we are on our way. Peak after peak looms in the distance making our route a majestic drive if rather bumpy. Six hours on we arrive in Harer the spiritual focus of Ethiopian’s Muslim population. busy market

Overhead wires hang from lopsided wooden Gate to Old Hararelectrical or telephone poles. Pavements are marked out by a smooth trail over building debris, rubbish and open sewers. Behind every wrought iron gate lays a dog or two exhausted from the nights chorus of relentless barking.

The streets heave to the mass of walking figures that somehow or other to avoid being wiped out by the passing power of the Japanese auto industry. Mitsubishi, Toyota, Suzuki, Datson, Nissan with the odd large Merc with fluttering embassy pendants. Bleaches of exhaust fumes camouflage the wandering donkeys, sheep, grazing cattle. Hiach vans weave in and out of gaps too small to have wing mirrors. The whole lot is bouncing over or evading known potholes.

Beggars position themselves for the day’s alms. A naked man is lying asleep. Men in suits are walking with bunches of garden peas; Allah is singing the morning howl. A posh hotel security guard is awaiting a few cents from a departing guest. The local barber in a galvanised shed is picking his nose. Wedding dresses for hire are opening for business. Chat the local leaf is being munched by the ton to get out of the real world.

Unlike my friend Richard Burton the first European dressed as a Muslim to penetrate the walls of Harer in 1854 our entrances is totally ignored.We drive through the walls main gate, which is named after the town stopping at a bar in Feres Magala Square the centre. The first gulp of cold beer has hardly hit the back of my throat when we are surrounded by the hungry for a few dollars chat chewing Harer guides.   “I show you Rambo house, Haile Selasie house, Hareri house, the Hyena man.”

All attempts to explain that we have just arrived and are only interested in a cold beer have no effect.   Looking across the street I see a large poster Sylvester Stallone and much to our chat-chewing guides I announce what should I pay to see Rambo house while we can enjoy his large poster on the wall opposite with cold beer.

With the promise of gainful employment in the morning one of punting guides suggests the Tewodros Hotel. Describing it as not expensive, clean, even European, modern, it turns out to be a concrete three-story block that seems to act as the main communication tower. All Harer overhead wires emanate from or pass through its majestic height.

Up the concrete steps to floor one a room with a view and a balcony pleasantly surprises us with a clean room three decent beds and a black and white telly.

Right on time our guide arrives. He joins us over lunch introducing himself as Giorgis – Ethiopian George. He is bright and passes our test in commanding adequate English we can understand. The first task is to agree a day’s non-guilt Faranji guiding fees and then to explain we are not here to discover the Ark of the Covenant.   Last but not least we will dump him if he drags us to any shops where he is on a commission, however there is a bonus for a good days work –he gets the message.

It takes us another half an hour to battle our injera breakfast of fried eggs called inkolala tibs according to George who is by now tucking in to our great relief. Injera you know says George is made from tef, wheat like grain only found in Ethiopia. The tef dough is fermented for three days before it is cooked, producing a foamy rubbery sour tasting pancake bread, which is torn off to scoop whatever you are eating.

Three cups later of Buna (espresso coffee) and we are on our way.   First stop is the Chat market a stone throw over rubble from the hotel. According to George tons of the stuff is flown daily to Brixton market in London where it is sold as a vegetable.   Row after row of dealers sits in front of their mounds of what looks like branches of Bay leaves. Business is brisk with the going price for a bundle of small brighter green leaves at 3.50bir about the same as a bottle of beer.   The best stuff to be had according to George is from young shrubs. It’s all to do with getting the freshest leaves. Like a twittering bird he moves from one bundle to the next. It’s not long before I have a hand full. “Chew it into a pulpy mesh,” and hold it like me in you mouth in your cheeks “

The taste is bitter. “Any minute now, I am expecting my mouth and lips to go num and for my brain to follow.

Chat or as it is also called Gat, is a mild narcotic, a natural stimulant containing Cathione and Cathine one of which substances is used in the manufacture of Ecstasy pills. Most of the supplies don’t arrive in Ethiopian villages, towns till around 2pm. The amount of time it takes the growers to huff the stuff on the backs of woman, donkeys, for delivery to onwards pick up points.

Just as I deposit a large green gob to join the green hue of the surrounding rubble and well-worn pathways “It will take a few hours chewing before you enter blissful eternity”, say George. To the question why do so many Ethiopians chew Chat he replies, “If you lived here you would want to forget you daily routine and problems.” With bonus dulling eyes he also adds “It takes the pains of hunger away.”

We move on into the old quarters. A living museum of rectangular stone houses set in forty-eight hectares with three hundred and sixty-two lanes. The confusing webs of cobble alleys are more in keeping with a Moroccan sulk than an Ethiopian town.

We enter one of the houses. A world of hanging carpets, baskets, all walls decorated from top to bottom with dozen or so small alcoves in each wall displaying glittering crockery.

In front of us is a raised floor also richly carpeted on which a large lady is sitting smoking one of the many bubble pipes that are standing between suitable arranged sequent adorned cushions.   She has short fat arm with all fingers sporting gold rings that stop an avalanche of bangles escaping on to the floor. She beckons us to approach.

“This carpet shows the house has a daughter of marriageable age”, says George.

Before you could say Jack Robin Florence is sitting on the large lady’s knee sucking on the Hubble-bubble turning forty shades of green. A cherish sight. Resisting an offer of the coffee ceremony and numerous sale pitches in Gai and Sinan we move on.

Lining up his next play at earning some commission “Harer has its own language, and is one of the few cities that produced its own coinage. “ “The Marie Theresa Thaler coins are now made into earrings and other items of jewellery that are very beautiful,” says George. He has no explanation as to how a coin from the Austria Empire ended up as currency in Harar.

Back in the narrow alleyway our footsteps ring on the smooth stoned floor and vibrate up the walls announcing our approach to all living behind the solid wooded doors. “This is Haile Selasie house, where he lived when he was a boy” “You want to go in and see”. It costs 10 Bir per person to visit.” A sign on the wall of the house has no mention of the Emperors stay, but seems to indicate that it is some sort of herbal shop. We give the visit the skip and move to the next house Rambo’s house, which happens to be right next store.

This building from the outside looks dimly Oriental. Two stories it stands out like a wart against the surrounding structures because of its unusual architecture.

In a small booth with 10 Bir entrance notice a government looking official is fanning a book of tickets. “It’s worth having a look say George,” “From the top you can see out over the city “.   We walk into a courtyard. Facing us is a rather sad-looking building with a less had safe looking balcony. The stone steps up to the main entrance has a pillared covered porch which is totally out of character with the rest of the building gives the whole place a look as if it is a Hollywood setting for a horror movie.

Inside we cross a wooden floor that has lost its natural grain sheen to a staircase that once had grandeur. On the second floor the frescoed ceiling. (Which is supposes to be painted by the French poet Arthur Rimbaud who came to Harer as a merchant dealing in coffee and arms) is also in need of attention. Indeed the whole story of Rambo living in this house could be taken with a pinch of salt although he was friendly with Ras Makonnen Haile Selasie father who might have sub the Poet for the odd verse.

We spend the rest of the day browsing the many small shops eventually buying some reshaped Marie Theresa coins that have being made into a necklace. Later that night we ventured out to witness one of Harer strangest events. We were told that there is a tradition since the great Famine of the 19th century of feeding Harer Hyena. Apparently there is still one as nutty as a fruitcake that carries on this tradition outside the city walls.

Parking Williwaw just outside the Fallana gates we walk alongside the battered walls in the dark towards a high-pitched whistle emanating from an out crop of rock. We have seen many Hyenas during our travels so I am somewhat sceptical as to what we are going to witness.

A Hyena can kill a lion and pound for pound it is the strongest animal in the world. It is only second behind the crocodile in jaw crunching strength when it bites it crushes with 1000 + lbs. To get a comparison a pit bullterrier comes in at 250lbs and a Rothweiler 360lbs.   So you can imagine the thought of holding out a pork chop or a cow’s leg to an animal that could bite through your arm as if it was butter is far from attractive.

In the ever-increasing darkness we arrive beside a man who has a large bucket of Hyena goodies. We are motioned to sit but the standing position seems more prudent if a quick escape is required.

While the man emits an eerie high whistle that rebounds of the city walls into darkness the hushed ground slops away from us. It not long before a few set of green reflecting eyes are approaching. Gutless a first the first animal snatches a hunk of meat and disappears into the night. After a while the night air is full of supernatural Hyena calls. They are now coming within meters taking large bones held by the Hyena man. As time moves on he is getting more and more rakish with manner he is offering the bones. He put his arm around his neck holding a bone, another bone (not his) between his legs, and the piece de resistance one in his mouth.

The atmosphere is electric. He turns with a smile and beckons me to join him. Handing me a large bone I hold it out to dream for the rest of the night that my arm is being crushed in the vice grips of a Hyena.

It’s quite a sensation watching those eyes approaching. Your nose picks up a pungent strong smell floating on the air before there is flash of white teeth that sends a vibration up your arm, then a sharp braking noise that makes you wonder why you are feeling no pain.(Top TIP: It must be said that feeding Hyena has its down side they becoming less fearful of humans but if you get the chance it is an experience not to miss.)

Leaving Harer with two hands on the steering wheel we return to main drag to turn right for Dirae Dawa (Originally known as Addis Harer, New Harer).Afficher l'image d'origineThe road as always in Ethiopia has its striding crucified humans marching in either direction. (Ethiopians use their walking sticks to hang their arms from when walking long distances. They place the walking stick across the back of their necks holding it in position by looping their arms over it. When viewed by other they look like Christians captured by the Romans marching along the road to the coliseum. ) In some way their image captures for us the essence of Ethiopia which is an unforgiving land, immersed in Rituals of religion/traditions, grinding its way from one famine to the next into the modern world.

Afficher l'image d'origine    

Late afternoon we arrive in Dirae Dawa a shabby town with nothing much to show other than one main street with some modern buildings and a bridge over dry river. Like most cities it robs one of the splendour of its surroundings. Not until a warm mellowing of light indicated that the sun is setting do we find Paulo house. His home like most is up a non-named dirt road once more behind large gates. Like him the insides of the house is chaotic. A heavy smell of pot hangs in the air.

The road as always in Ethiopia has its striding crucified humans marching in either direction. (Ethiopians use their walking sticks to hang their arms from when walking long distances. They place the walking stick across the back of their necks holding it in position by looping their arms over it. When viewed by other they look like Christians captured by the Romans marching along the road to the coliseum. ) In some way their image captures for us the essence of Ethiopia which is an unforgiving land, immersed in Rituals of religion/traditions, grinding its way from one famine to the next into the modern world.

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THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK: CHAPTER TWENTY: SECTION EIGHT.

16 Monday May 2016

Posted by bobdillon33@gmail.com in Literature., Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on THE BEADY EYE’S UNPUBLISHED BOOK: CHAPTER TWENTY: SECTION EIGHT.

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Best Travel unpublished book., Top readable travel book, Travel book that will inspire you to travel., Travel.

 

(CONTINUATION)

We retire to the hotel for a long overdue beer with our heads swimming from images of church paintings, beatified saints, living grey bearded white turban druids either squatting or floating in and out of hidden cold chiselled cracks of light with small crosses, staff, muttering words from consecrated books. After dinner the girls call it a day I venturing out for an evening stroll take in the second half of a football match played on a rock hard pitch. I get invited to the local pub up in the village by Ato wearing green.

Yes you’re right: It turns out to be a stone roundhouse up a very stone steep pathway. Opening the door the stone floor is covered in a fine fresh scenting grass. There is no light and no sign of any other drinking regulars. My new-found friend Ato (Mr) Giday orders two specimen bottles of Tej (That’s the mead stuff made from honey) In his early forties he speaks faultless English. With a sweep of his hand he introduces me to a raised ledge where to my surprise are seated six or seven others. Introductions over a few ishee( Ok) later the unfathomable cultural divide is once again a barrier to any mean full communication. Mr Giday comes to my rescue.

The questions start flying. Where am I from? Ireland. Never heard of it. The grass is swept aside > A map. Ishee Ishee. What to I think of Ethiopia? Where have I been? What religion? Do I like the food?

They find it inconceivable that we have driven from South Africa. By specimen bottle two my round the conversation has turned to politics, the price of things in Addis, woman > Home from home. Bottle three Mr Giday promises to take us around the churches again in the morning. The toilet turns out to be Shita Biete and I am sailing three sheets to the wind.

An old codger is pocking me in the side with his walking stick. He seems to be offering his stick to me, but I am not sure. Five pucks later Mr Giday informs me that the stick is a present to whack the dogs on the way back to the hotel. I don’t quite remember leaving or where Mr Giday said his good nights but man was I thankful for the walking stick. In pitch dark I staggered back to the hotel creating enough noise to arouse very pair of four-legged ivories in hearing distance.

Surprisingly I awake relatively unscathed. Mr Giday is awaiting us in the dinning room. He breakfasts with us out lying the day ahead. Florence is not impressed with another round of the churches she being bribed with motherly know how.

A long day of detail explanations delivered with grace and genuine pleasure brings Lalibela into true perspective than any text could have done. Mr Giday back in the hotel refused to take any monitory payment for his services. However I insist that he should. He is setting up a private guide company to meet the demands of the expected tourists when the airport opens.

Before taking his leave he inform us that if we wish in the morning at 6am we could visit and witness a druid ceremony in Biete Golgolta an experience we should not miss.

We are all somewhat tired so the thought of getting up a 5.30am to see some whaling druids does not appeal to me. Fanny enthusiasms however surprise us so Mr Giday promises to collect her in the morning. The Hotel also has a group of Amhara woman performing a traditional dance, which according to Mr Giday we should not miss.Afficher l'image d'origine

Later than Fanny would have liked we sit watching one of the most unusual dance form in Africa. A group of five women stand riveted to the floor with the stillness of startled deer’s.   With fixed smiles their shoulders start to shudder in imitation of some sort of exotic mating dance undertaking by our feather friends. Not another muscle moves other than their shoulders, their breasts and necks. The breasts quiver like set jelly while their necks and heads mimic the elastic of any old golf ball unravelling to the rhythm of a rather loud band.

The contrast from rock-hewn churches built by angels too an erotic totally strange dance form makes for an uneasy night sleep.

We awake to find Fanny in a spiritual trance. Her experience has crossed her into another world. The modern world has being left behind. She describes a sensation of being in seventh heaven > A pure and magical event that we lazy good for nothings had missed.   In the cold of the new day she had gone with Mr Giday and stood for an hour transfixed by large drums, tambourines, low chanting priests, frankincense, myrrh all swirling and rumbling around stone walls and pillars. She unlike us had lived the calling of Lalibela. Before leaving we visit the market where low and behold she spots Jesus himself sitting under a brolly.

Fanny still in a haze of beatification we slowly make our way out of Lalibela.

We see our welcoming beggar making his way down from his rocky house to the roads edge. He has heard the noise of Williwaw and knows with our new-found Lalibela haloes he will be showered with gifts. Afficher l'image d'origineAfficher l'image d'origine

Our route back to Addis passed through Dese the capital of the Wolo province. A sprawling forever town it nearly connects to the next town. We cross the Awash River and start to climb up to Debre Birhan where it’s down hill all the way to Addis. Our six weeks circuit in one of the most beautiful countries of Africa comes to and end outside Paul’ House. He has gone to Dire Dawa leaving a message to join him we are thankful for small mercies.

Next morning I call on the bank to collect my US dollar transfer. After a long wait I am informed that it has not arrived. Fax my Irish bank. They confirm the transfer has being sent > Back to the bank. No we don’t have it > Fax. Reply received with tracer number, and acknowledgement of receipt by recipient bank. Back to bank armed with fax. Line up again in queue. One hour later. “No it’s not arrived.” Blow a fuse. Customer behind me, “You think that’s bad I am the ambassador for Sweden, we are waiting on a few million for the last two months.”

Demand to see the manager > another search > Yes it’s arrived > Problem.

They are without the authorisation of the minister of Finance not able to pay me out in US$.   They must pay me the equivalent in Birr. Then I must change the Birr back into dollars. Commission, exchange rates massive loss.

Get into a taxi. Arrive at the Minister of Finance offices > Up to floor four > Open door. Walk in on the Minister. “Have you ever being to Ireland?” Yes.

“Well then you might be aware of what happens when a Paddy looses his temper.”

Explain the problem. Return to bank with letter of Authorisation. Queue. One hour later. Bank won’t accept letter. Ring Minister. State car arrives. Manager red-faced. Queue another hour and half. Teller counts out the dollar bills once, then again and once more for good measure. I recheck count in front of teller.

Hand her a hundred-dollar bill. Change to Birr please (Ethiopian currency). She holds the note up to the light and declares the hundred dollars bill a forgery. I throw a wobbler and all the bills over the counter. Manger Confusion > A recount with each bill scanned by fluorescent light. Having arrived at 8 am I walk out of bank 6.30pm parched.

Very conscious of the wad tucked into front of my jeans I stop at bar. On leaving the bar I start walking towards Williwaw.   Coming straight at me and sticking out like a sore thumb is a dude I had seen lurking in the bank. Out of the corned of my eye his accomplice is standing in a narrow lane way. At three paces with fist closed I run on to him.   Smack > my knuckles sting. Floored his buddy does a runner. I arrive back to the house with four teeth imprints, a headache, and mammoth dislike of banks.

All the next days’ attempts to secure a passage across Eritrea fail. The alternative of circumnavigating Eritrea by way of Sudan is not on the cards so for all inattentive daydreaming purposes our adventure is all but at an end.

The logistics of arranging homeward passage commence. Fanny and Flo will fly back to the UK in week’s time. After the week I will drive the Jeep to Djibouti ship her home as all attempts to sell her have failed, returning to Addis and fly home. Not difficult.

We decide to spend the last few days with a visit to Awash national park and the Filwoha Hot springs along with a stop over in the walled city of Harer one of Ethiopia’s most interesting cities.   We will then go on up and visit our mad Sicilian friend Paoulo in Dire Dawa my set off point to cross the Denakil desert to Djibouti.

Awash park lies in dry acacia savannah land around 200km east of Addis Ababa on the road to Nazert. The road out of Addis has become almost familiar to us, as it is the main exit to eastern Ethiopia.   We have already driven it a few times but the landscape still takes our breath away. Dark lava flows stain the sides of the surrounding small volcanic hills while the northern Rift Valley walls shimmer in the heat as do numerous small lakes of the Aris and Bale highlands before the whole lot is swallow up by the Arba Gugu Mountains.

We follow the French built railway line that connects Addis to Djibouti Ethiopian’s only rail line. God only knows how people travel on this sweat box of a train. It staggers and shutters alongside us from one village to the next at walking pace. Yerer an extinct volcano on our left is envious of the smoke pumping from it engine funnel. We stop in Debre Zeyit a railway level crossing town surrounded by lakes with one lake almost in its center. A herd of long horn cattle with a swarm of goats with a liberal helping of dogs are blockading the rail line so we stop for a drink.

As always it’s not long before Williwaw attracts some faranji hysteria so we decide to give a walk around the lakes a miss.

A half hour later we have passed through Nazret (the Ethiopian for Nazareth) where one exams every donkey/horse-drawn cart for a woman and man called Mr and Mrs Jesus.

Another half an hour we arrive in Awash a mangy forgettable small town that clings to a railway station where long-tongued thirsty train passengers quench their thirst. Our journey leaves the road and enters the Kudu valley in search of the Filwoha Hot Springs. An hour later we bump our way across a small river towards a small bunch of Palm trees that surround ice blue water pool.

There is neither a soul to be seen nor any hint to confirm that this is the Filwoha Hot springs but in the searing heat of the day the water looks refreshing and inviting. Afficher l'image d'origine

Without any ado I strip off and plunge in. I can only describe it as the same experience a lobster must get when it is chucked into a pot of boiling water.

My momentum brings me across the pool where I emerge gasping and glowing red with two testicles that pain like hell. Florence the daughter is in stitches, but suddenly goes quite at the sight of two emerging Ethiopians pointing at my man hood. They are also in fits of gleeful laughter at sight a glowing Irish fool who had being looking all day at volcanoes, lava, and who had now dived headlong without dipping his toe in to test the temperature.

There shrieks of hysterics of course attracted the ever-invisible humanoids within hearing distance.  The next commotion comes from Williwaw where my beloved is treating a bloke with bigger knife who has attempted to snatch her handbag. Waving one of our machete she is shouting “You bastard mine is bigger that your.” With my pills stinging we make a hasty retreat all the way back till we arrive on the main drag late in the afternoon.

The entrance to Awash Park is marked by a battered sign and a small hut with an unmanned barrier. It’s difficult to believe that behind the barrier lay a 870 km park supporting 50 large animal species and over 400 bird species.

Our park campsite is up a nine-kilometer long track from the barrier. We see nothing on the way up arriving eventually as what is described in the Bible as a large waterfall carved out by the Awash River.  Afficher l'image d'origine

The Awash River lamely dribbles over a small waterfall as we prepare Pitch No 118 under huge figs and acacia threes our last and final Pitch of our African journey.

Our chosen site although beautiful soon shows itself to be unbearable with visiting insects and those nuance of all nuances our friend and enemy Blue balls him self the Vervet monkey. There is no choice but to move. Pitch No 119 is back up to a rocky outcrop on raised ground giving us a view out over the river and some cool evening breezes.

While Fanny starts preparing the evening meal I get on with now a very tried and tested routine of setting up our roof top tent, beds, nets, and all the other things necessary to make our camp site comfortable. We have not seen a soul since entering the park.

However while walking around Williwaw I get the feeling that I am being watched. During our whole time in Ethiopia we had not associate it with real African Wild life.   Now here I was face to face with a young lioness that is more than peeved to see me.   In a crouched tense posture sent the hairs on my neck tingling.   With my legs wanting to scamper my mind is telling me not to make any sudden movements. Pointing at the rock I slid back around Williwaw and tell the girls to get on the roof. There is no protest as we all clamber up the ladder.

It takes some time and a large campfire for the girls to relax. Dinner is eaten with a douse of reinsurance that we are perfectly safe. The next visitor is just as much a surprise. A game warden asking for our park entrance fee and insisting that we could not camp where we are.

After two camp pitching’s with highly sensitive balls combined with nearly becoming lion fodder, we or I should say I, am in no mood to move in the dark.   Our refusal turns our park ranger into an aggressive threatening animal, but he eventually leaves us in peace after being told in no certain terms to piss off

The girls hit the sack on the understanding that I stand watch until I hear them snoring. With the sound of the waterfall I sit with my back to Williwaw sipping a beer and sweeping the rocks now and then with our powerful torch.

Out of the darkness to my left a set of green eyes followed by two more sets announces the return of our lioness with two of her girl friends. All three sauntering pass me without showing the slightness interest in my presence.

Their eyes and silent gait nonetheless sends quivers of nerves up my spine until they disappear in the direction of the river. I retire up the ladder with backwards glances over my shoulder. Sleep comes fitful with tingling pills and gaping jaws.

Next morning early we break camp not to avoid a re visit from our lions but to avoid our less than pleasant game ranger.   Arriving back at the park gate entrance we find the barriers down and locked. The rusty chain gives Williwaw bull bars little trouble. We turning right and it‘s not long before we are climbing up the Arba Gugu foothills to our turn off to Harer.

(To be Continued)

Donation News. Still pathetic.

Robert Dillon: Account no 62259189. Ulster Bank 33 College Green Dublin 2.

Sorting Code: 98-50-10.

 

 

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