Wednesday, December 25, 2024

Some of us just go one god further

 

If this story concerns you, call LIFELINE on 13 11 14

 

 

Accordion to a recent study, seven out of ten people don't notice when a word in a sentence is replaced by a musical instrument. Never mind! This is not an important post anyway; just a short note that I won't be going to this year's Community Christmas Carols in the local hall.

Christmas is all about an unskilled Middle Eastern man and his pregnant partner seeking refuge and shelter. It even made headlines at the time.

I've been an atheist long before I could spell the word. At age fourteen, when others attended confirmation in their Sunday-best, I sat through a Freethinkers' function in the local cinema, much to my parents' shame.

Of course, you don't have to be Richard Dawkins to realise that we are all atheists about most of the gods that humanity has ever believed in.

Some of us just go one god further.

 

Monday, December 23, 2024

"How I love a white Christmas"

 

 

At this time of year, whether you're listening to the radio in Darwin, Hobart, Bullamakanka, or indeed in Nelligen or in Fairfield, chances are you'll be hearing Bing Crosby sing the unforgettable lyrics, "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas".

While many people associate Christmas with snow in their yearning for a simpler time, I never want to see that white sh*t again. Right now it's a hot 34 degrees outside (that's with a C behind it, Des; here we no longer give an F when it comes to temperature) which is just perfect for me.

The only time you may hear me utter the words "How I love a white Christmas" would be if I wanted to remember the first six digits of π
(the number of letters in each word gives the digits of Pi, 3.14159 )

 

Friday, December 13, 2024

The Sheltering Desert

 

It was the first year of the Second World War. The German armies had occupied Holland and were already breaking through the first defences of the Maginot Line. Windhoek was in a swirl of war propaganda, and enthusiasm, fear and anxiety coloured every discussion. Even a scientist could hardly hope to keep his head in that hysterical atmosphere. But my friend Hermann Korn and I had already decided that this was not our war. We had seen it coming for a long time, and in fact that was the reason why we had left Europe in the first place. We wanted no hand or part in the mass suicide of civilized peoples.

But now it looked as though the war was about to catch up with us; more and more Germans were disappearing behind the barbed wire of internment camps. Any day the same fate could overtake us. It was a dread thought for two men used, in their scientific work, to the desert expanses and the freedom of the endless rolling plains, and we were determined to maintain our personal neutrality and to defend our independence to the best of our ability. One evening, sitting on the stone steps of our house, we reviewed the situation and wondered if there was anything we could do about it. And then suddenly we remembered what we had once said half in joke: 'If war comes we'll spend it in the desert!'" Extract from "The Sheltering Desert" by Henno Martin

 

Read it online at www.archive.org

 

"The Sheltering Desert" (original German title "Wenn es Krieg gibt, gehen wir in die Wüste") is the story of two German geologists in South-West Africa (today's Namibia) at the start of World War Two: Henno Martin, Hermann Korn, and their dog Otto. They didn't want to be part of the madness that engulfed Europe and fled into the Namib Desert instead.

The book tells the tale of how they survived out there for two and a half years. How they learned to hunt and find water, to build shelter and make tools. It's also filled with astute observations about the human psyche, and what it means to be "primitive." In one passage, Martin writes, "It was about this time that we noticed a change in the subject of our dreams. Animals began to play an increasing part in them and the distinction between human beings and animals became blurred."

It's a calming read that has stuck with me ever since I lived and worked in the then still South-West Africa in 1968/69. Henno Martin and Hermann Korn were two men who chose their own path and whilst the world tore itself to pieces, they conquered life both physically, mentally and, most importantly, peacefully. Their book, "The Sheltering Desert", is a fitting legacy to them from which we can all learn a thing or two.

Thursday, December 12, 2024

Shingles in Shangri-La

 

 

After moving from place to place and country to country for twenty years, I really haven't much to show for: a pile of old passports full of colourful stamps and visas, a few photos from a time before selfie sticks, and this charming little volume of "Lost Horizon" by James Hilton.

My first stay at a Shangri-La hotel was in Singapore in 1975, a mere four years after it had first opened its doors. There, and in subsequent stays in the Shangri-La in Hong Kong and Paris, I was always greeted by the same book on the bedside table, with its flyleaf inscribed by the concierge:

 

"This captivating story you are about to read was written in 1933 by an English novelist who wrote of an idyllic settlement high in the mountains of Tibet.

Today, even amongst those who have never heard of Lost Horizon, the words 'Shangri-La' stand as a synonym for paradise.

In 1971, a deluxe hotel was founded in the thriving city of Singapore in Southeast Asia. In choosing the name Shangri-La, there was a desire to set a standard, to create an identity that would eventually produce a group of hotels unique in the world.

As the group expanded, it has sought to retain all the ideals of its mythical namesake. Serenity, harmony and natural beauty, all characteristics of the Shangri-La group. This enchanting book will give you a glimpse of this world. A world once imagined, a dream that has become a reality.

We hope you enjoy it."

 

A cut above the usual Gideon Bible which you find in more down-market hostelries, don't you think? The shingles pains are kicking in again but I hate to take too many paracetamols. Instead, I shall distract my mind by going to bed and listen to this LUX RADIO dramatisation of "Lost Horizon".

 

 

I copied it onto a tiny USB-stick which I can plug into my bedside radio. You can do the same: simply click on ytmp3.la, insert the YouTube URL

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKAgwTtSLRc&t=361s

click on "Convert", and then copy the mp3 file onto a USB-stick. As the concierge inscribed on the flyleaf all those years ago, "I hope you enjoy it."

 


 

P.S. I even have some of my shirts still wrapped up in Shangri-La laundry bags, and never worn since. How's that for a souvenir from long ago?

 



 

The House of Saud

 

Yours truly in his apartment in Jeddah in Saudi Arabia, reading "The House of Saud"

 

The last time I read "The House of Saud" was in my apartment in Jeddah in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. That was in 1983 and so, having long forgotten what I read then, I pulled the book back off the shelf today and started reading it again.

It's a brilliant, well researched, and valuable historical record about the founding of the Kingdom of Saud, [Saudi Arabia], with detailed accounts of its early dealings with the USA, Britain, what now is Turkey, and other Arab nations, and how it grew from a small desert tribe, into a powerful and obscenely wealthy Islamic state. The authors also give readers insight into the Shiite disturbances that began in the 1970s culminating in the seizure of the Grand Mosque, and the bloodshed that followed.

As it says in the book's blurb, "At Riyadh, in 1902 the Desert Raider Ibn Saud [Abdul Aziz] tossed the head of the town governor from a parapet down to his followers below ... thus was the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia founded. Two-thirds of the size of India, it holds a quarter of the world’s oil and has six times more overseas assets than the USA. A land of desert unchanged for centuries, with wealth and power to make the world tremble ... the domain of the House of Saud."

 

Read it online at www.archive.org

 

Originally born of isolated Bedouin tribes of the desert, the House of Saud attaches great importance to the purity of the bloodline. Marriages between first cousins, or equivalent relations, are preferred, or else carefully selected partners of equal status and purity in another tribe ... To quote from the book:

"As Islam permits each man to keep four wives at any one time, and as divorce is made easy for males under Koranic law, so that the magic number of four can be multiplied many times over in one man’s life, this custom begot not only large numbers of children by a single father, but also an immense ramification of family and tribal inter-relationships through several generations. Nephews married aunts, uncles were wedded to nieces and their children married each other to form a close-knit and, to the outsider, impenetrable mesh."

At the time of writing, the authors estimate that with about 500 princes descending from Abdul Aziz, together with wives, daughters and collateral branches of the family, 'the House of Saud cannot number less than 20,000 people.' The number of Abdul Aziz' wives has never been officially computed but official records show that he fathered 45 sons from 22 different women. In addition there were at least as many daughters from an even wider range of women, including no doubt some unacknowledged mothers among the various concubines and slave girls, not to forget 'wives of the night' whom it was customary [and still is] for Arabian men to enjoy whenever the opportunity arose. All they had to do was to 'marry' the woman or girl for as many hours as they desired, then divorce her by saying 'I divorce you'. Today, many women and girls are kidnapped from Yemen, and other surrounding Arab nations, for the purposes of this euphemism for a 'one night stand'.

In Islamic countries, the Koran and its inherent sharia law, or path to follow, supplies a total and explicit moral code but in Saudi Arabia it is even more than that. It remains there, the only recognised and enforceable code of law, so that the country is held in a '1300-year-old corset of town and desert morality that is deemed to be universally and eternally applicable.' This desert morality is upheld and brutally enforced by Wahhabism:

"In the middle of the eighteenth century, in what now must be regarded as the most fateful meeting of minds in Arabia since the time of Muhammad, Sheikh Muhammad bin Saud, ruler of Diriya, and great, great grandson of Mani, the first identifiable Saudi ancestor, gave shelter to an itinerant preacher of Nejd, named Sheikh Muhammad bin Abdul Wahhab. The preacher was a Muslim 'revivalist' and the world of Islam by then was much in need of rejuvenation and reform ... Abdul Wahhab was a true zealot, come to cleanse the 'stinking stables of Arabia' once more with the Word of God. But the Word of God proved insufficient for the task. Like the Prophet, Abdul Wahhab needed a sword as well – and to his eternal joy, he found one in Muhammad bin Saud and his family ... Although Muhammad bin Saud was only one of the numerous quarrelling Nejdi sheikhs at the time, little more important than the rest, he evidently grasped that a man who had a message would give him an edge over all his rivals, enabling him to unite Bedouin and townsfolk in a new jihad to extend his personal dominion ...

... Accordingly, in 1744 Muhammad bin Saud married off his son, Abdul Aziz, to a daughter of the preacher and thus sealed a compact between the two families that has been continued unbroken by their descendants ever since ... Contemporary Saudi Arabia, for all its money and the new corruption and idolatry that wealth has encouraged, remains in theory and to a surprising extent in practice, a Wahhabist state, officially dedicated to the preservation of pure Islam as propounded by Muhammad bin Abdul Wahhab."

The book takes the story of the House of Saud and of Saudi Arabia only up to 1979 and Juhaiman bin Muhammed Utaibi's crazed attempt to seize the shrine at Mecca but it remains relevant.

The authors - one of whom, David Holden, was murdered execution-style in Cairo, Egypt, in 1977, click here - seemed to think that the 'regime' had little chance of long-term survival, yet here we are, forty-five years later, with the House of Saud still an arbiter, if not the arbiter, of much of Middle Eastern politics.

And here I am, forty years later, still amazed at how I survived those lonely years in the world's largest sandbox, and still reading about it.

 


 

ABC iview is showing right now "The Kingdom: The World's Most Powerful Prince" - click here.

 

Monday, December 9, 2024

My first Australian Christmas

 

 

Do you still remember what you received for Christmas in 1965? I do! A pair of what were then quite popular elastic clip-on braces which, in my particular case, had been ingeniously strapped length-wise over a wooden ruler. I did use the ruler for a while but never once wore the braces.

The reason I remember it so well is because I had arrived only some four months earlier and this was my first Christmas in Australia. Even while still in Germany I had already spent half-a-dozen Christmases away from my parents' dysfunctional homes - plural, because they divorced when I was six and I had alternated between them until I left altogether when only 14 - and for me there was nothing sentimental about Christmas, but perhaps my new boss at the bank must've thought so because he instructed one of the married employees to invite me for Christmas dinner at their home.

This particular chap was a rather rotund invidual who cycled to work and sometimes forgot to take off his bicycle clips and always wore a pair of those shirt sleeve garters and, yes, a pair of elastic clip-on braces. Even to me, who took in everything new unreservedly, he seemed to be a figure of fun and the least inspiring person I'd met in those first few months, and I would have politely declined his invitation had my English been up to it.

I don't remember much else except that they were a childless couple, she as skinny as he was fat, and that their house was full with his in-laws, his wife's parents and sisters and brothers, who had come down from Roma in Queensland. Much of what went on passed me by, partly because of my natural shyness and partly because of my lack of English, until I received that pair of elastic clip-on braces, never worn but always remembered.

 

Sunday, December 8, 2024

‘At least he built the Autobahn’

 

 

Many post-war Germans remember this phrase from their conversations with parents and grandparents pointing to how the Nazi regime could receive such widespread support.

Perhaps Trump's mercifully only four more years will go down as the time when all this "LGBTQIA-inclusive" language was put back into the rubbish bin of history and we can all breathe a sigh of relief and say, "At least he brought back the proper pronouns".

 

Saturday, December 7, 2024

Eine frühzeitige Weihnachtsgeschichte

 


Lies das Buch hier

 

Manchmal weiß man so gar nicht mehr, wo man hingehört im Leben. So wie Betty, die vor den Feiertagen Bilanz zieht: "Es war, als hätte ich zu leben vergessen." Wie ein riesiges Plüschschwein namens Erika dem Leben wieder einen - wenn auch verborgenen - Sinn gibt, davon erzählt Elke Heidenreich in einer ihrer schönsten Geschichten.

 

 

Und keiner kann den melancholisch-versöhnlichen Ton besser ins Bild setzen als Michael Sowa, dessen Erika so anschmiegsam und eigenwillig ist, das man sie sofort lieb gewinnt!

 

Friday, December 6, 2024

The true meaning of Christmas

 

 

One of the main reasons we have the custom of giving and receiving presents at Christmas, is to remind us of the presents given to Jesus by the three Wise Men: Frankincense, Gold and Myrrh.

I think frankincense and myrrh are slightly out of fashion, and my budget doesn't run to gold, so what to give as a Christmas present to those from whom I expect yet more useless gifts this Christmas?

How many times have you encountered the "Batteries not included" message on the packaging of a battery-powered appliance which you received but couldn't use until you had bought some batteries?

It's pretty annoying, isn't it? So this year I have decided to turn this message on its head and just give them the batteries.

Merry Christmas from the Wise Man at Nelligen.

 

Thursday, December 5, 2024

"Shingles on my roof, shingles on my body"

 


Tom Neale sitting on his bed on Suwarrov Island,
looking not the least bit worried about shingles

 

Despite having suffered from it for over three weeks, I keep forgetting what it's called without the help of my little home-made mnemonic "Shingles on my roof, shingles on my body". Am I suffering from an early onset of dementia as well?

(Yes, I know, they're called tiles, really, but "Tiles on my roof ..." only rhymes with something I haven't got - yet. If I did, I would have trouble sitting down, whereas my shingles only give me trouble lying down.)

To distract myself from all this misery, I've read Tom Neale's "An Island to Oneself" again - and so can you by clicking here. On re-reading it online, I noticed that it has quite a few typos in it which are not of my own making as I copied the text of the book from somewhere else on the internet.

I simply couldn't be bothered fixing them as I'm suffering too much from ... ahem, "Shingles on my roof ..."

 

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

I hope the canoe is included in the sale

 

 

Almost three years ago, a very good friend - perhaps the only good friend with whom I had experienced an almost instant meeting of the minds, and with whom I had endless discussions about books, politics, philosophy, world affairs, in fact, just about anything because he knew something about everything - finally reached the end of his 87-year-long life - click here.

For several years already, he had been heading towards the end - no, not life itself, but something else: the end of any likelihood of change in his life - and in our discussions he had allowed himself long moments in which he had paused to ask the question: what else have I done wrong?

Almost three years later, the property that he had kept in such immaculate shape for fifty years, despite a persistent urge to do something else and see more of the world while there was still time, is now for sale - see here.

 

293-295 Old Nelligen Road, Nelligen, NSW 2536

 

The property will be auctioned this coming Saturday. Whatever the price, it will never pay for all the hard work over a long lifetime that my friend put in to make "Sproxtons" what it is today. I hope the canoe is included in the sale. I gave it to him many years ago in exchange for one of the many favours he did for me. It was far too small a present to such a good friend.

 

P.S. Update on 7/12/24: The auction is cancelled, presumably through lack of interest, and it's now for sale through other "Expressions of Interest".

P.P.S. Update on 11/12/24: By all means, express your interest, but only if you're interested to pay $3,000,000 to $3,300,000 (Adam Porteous's pre-auction price guide had been between $2,800,000 and $3,000.000).

 

Sunday, December 1, 2024

The only person who is with us our entire life is ourselves

 

 

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. This video clip will!