Memoir Kathmandu Blues:MY VILLAGE DREAMS (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
Once upon a time there was a kingdom in the Himalayas called Nepal. People in the outside world also called it the Land of the Sherpas, the Land of Yetis and Yaks, the Land of the famous Gurkhas and the Land of the highest mountains in the world. It was ruled by a Gorkha king named Prithvi Narayan Shah, who in 1768 brought the different kingdoms together through his conquests. The rise of the House of Gorkhas (Shah dynasty) has endured since 238 years till November 21,2006.
In 1974, I happened to be a part of a scenario known as the ‘Back to the Village Campaign.’ It was a strange sight in the mountain kingdom of Nepal, which was a forbidden land twenty-four years ago. University professors, lecturers, bank managers, His Majesty’s section officers and other cadres, who normally barked at peons or paleys in the offices of His Majesty’s Government to bring them tea and snacks from the nearby tea-shops, were digging with shovels, lifting stones, plastering up the stone blocks with cement. The place was a remote locality of the Balambu village panchayat. And the motley crowd of workers were urbanised white-collar job-holders and citizens of Nepal, working shoulder to shoulder with their rural brothers under the ‘Go to the Village National Campaign’.
The national campaign had a branch office at Balambu, which was located 18-kilometres from Kathmandu along the Kathmandu-Thankot road. In 1975, with a view to enable one to acquire first-hand knowledge regarding the progress made by the government and semi-government workers in the development tasks of the village panchayats in the suburbs of Kathmandu Valley, a couple of journalists from the pro-government media: The Rising Nepal, Gorkhapatra and Radio Nepal were invited to take part in a surprise whirlwind tour of these areas. The ten panchayats where the Go to the Village National Campaign was being implemented in the valley were: Naikab-Nayabhanjyang, Purano Bhanjyang, Saritartha, Machhegaon, Mahadevsthan, Thankot, Dahachowk - Chowketar and Ward-Bhanjyang.
The Go to the Village Campaign was the brainchild of King Mahendra, the father of King Gyanendra Shah, and was launched in the Nepalese month of Pousch 1, 2024 (Nepalese calender). The National Campaign was intended to mobilise the masses, taking into consideration the fact that Nepal was predominantly an agriculture-based country. A country where the village forms the most important unit. And every village had its five elders who so-to-say ran the village.
It was believed in the palace circles, and in the panchayat government, that if there was to be an awakening at all in the country, it had to come from the rural masses of Nepal, and a so-called tentative ten-point programme was implemented in the villages of the kingdom, in which His Majesty’s civil servants, students and workers from the urban areas were deputed to go to the villages and help ‘to strengthen and popularise the sentiment of nationalism and national unity’. Nepal’s masses were to be acquainted with the Panchayat Democracy, and thereby develop and further strengthen it.
The panchas at the grassroot-level were required to stick to the principles of the non-aligned foreign policy that the country had adopted, a far sighted policy of the ruling Shah dynasty to maintain their power. As long as you were non-aligned, you could rule a kingdom as you pleased, and there were no allies who’d look over the shoulder and protest when human and other rights were misused. The Kingdom of Nepal had always been a special case as far as geo-politics were concerned. India had a patronising attitude towards Nepal because it was the only Hindu Kingdom, and India’s Hindus and Buddhists flocked to Kathmandu’s holy temples like Pashupati and Swayambhu. After all the Goddess Sita from the Ramayana came from the Nepalese town of Janakpur. Moreover, Gautama Buddha was a prince from Lumbini, another place of pilgrimage for the Buddhists and Hindus. Thanks to the assistance of Japan’s Zen and Shinto Buddhists, Lumbini is an attractive place now.
A campaign was to be started against corruption, injustice, oppression and bungling of works that were of national reverence. The campaign was to make the village population active and conscious. Efforts were to be made to render assistance for the successful implementation of the existing land-reforms, civil code, social reforms and development works which had a national bearing. The idea of cooperatives was to be expanded and propagated. The people were to be made aware of the importance of the forests and wildlife, and were to be encouraged to plant tree-saplings. Since agriculture was the mainstay of the country, agricultural output was to be given greater priority. Cottage industries were to be encouraged and extended in keeping with the blueprint of the national campaign.
All this was the gist of the Go to the Village National Campaign, which a Nepalese linguist named Tara Nath Sharma once dubbed as ‘an echo of Mao Zedong’s repressive measure of closing down the universities and sending teachers, intellectuals and writers to villages for mandatory manual labour during the Chinese Cultural Revolution.’
Showcase villages were taken as examples and the development under the Panchayat government shown to the media. Prior to the implementation of the National Campaign, modern medical facilities were unheard of in a village like Satungal and the local population had to resort to the shamans of the village, who would practice their ‘strange, archaic, unscientific, mysterious and useless occult art on the simple taboo-ridden villagers (sic).’ The exorcists and shamans didn’t demand money for their services, but the villagers paid them in kind, by sacrificing their best roosters, goats and other animals.
Things slowly changed and a dispensary was set up by the local unit of the Campaign, and the doctors started coming on a three-day rotation to the village and treated the patients. Sample medicines were distributed ‘whenever possible’ (most of the time it wasn’t possible), and the dispensary trained volunteers from the ten panchayats of the area as health assistants. Some of the diseases that were (and still are) common tend to be: ascariasis, hepatitis, colitis, amoebiasis and malnutrition in general. The villagers talked about the family-planning programme, which was also active in the hamlet and the rural population of the village had been vaccinated.
At Chowkitar village, a farmer showed the patch where he was growing pear, plum and peach from the seeds provided by the Campaign and which had been distributed by the local panchayat office. I had the impression that simple Nepalese villagers didn’t know that the seeds that were distributed by their respective panchayats could be used by them, and they’d be free to make a profit out of the produce. Nobody had told them anything about it. There was an unspoken loathing on the part of the villagers, when it came to interactions with the government officials. Many farmers seemed to have the notion that the products obtained through the use of government seeds would be confiscated.
That the villagers were fully aware of the importance of the forests was amply evident in the higher reaches of the villages, for the mountains were dotted with saplings of Pinus roxburghii. The saplings were, of course, provided by the Department of Forestry, and the planting was done exclusively by the Campaign workers. The farmers were too apprehensive about the consequences of bureaucratic involvement. Soil erosion, which has been a prime factor for the lessening of yield in the remote areas of Nepal, can be checked to a considerable extent through the much-publicised tree-planting ventures. The Nepalese farmers were shown films of the royal family King Birendra, Queen Aishwarya, Crown Prince Dipendra, and the other two princes Gyanendra and Dhirendra planting saplings in different regions of Nepal to the accompaniment of the ironical song ‘Nepal ko dhana, hariyo bana’ (Nepal’s wealth is its forests).
If, for instance, there was a conflict regarding land-ownership- rights in the Eastern part of Nepal, as in the case of my college-friend Karki, the petition had to be filed in front of the Narayanhiti Royal Palace as a last instance of justice on earth. Even though Mr. Karki was educated in a college in Kathmandu, and could read and write in Nepali and English, he was obliged to have a petition filed, and written, by an official petition-writer, whose duty was to write a letter in longhand with sentences that were standard examples in circumlocution and archaic, courtly, subservient manners of expression. Having paid the writer for his trouble and artistry, one had to leave the matter to the Gods, and wait and pray that it be heard somewhere in the chambers of the spacious, modern Narayanhiti palace. For Vishnu, who is also called Budanilkantha in Nepal, reposes on his bed of serpents in the primeval waters, couldn’t be bothered with such earthly matters. Vishnu’s preserving and restoring power has, in the past, been manifested to the world in a variety of forms through his incarnations.
During a visit to Lalitput I met Tschering Lama, a lean, bespectacled, restaurant-owner, who’d bought a plot of land smack on the shore of the beautiful Phewa Lake in Pokhara (Central Nepal). He was extremely proud of his new acquisition. Sometime later, when he actually wanted to build a house on his patch of virgin Nepalese earth, he came to know that the land definitely hadn’t belonged to the man he’d bought it from, and that his purchase document wasn’t worth a rupee. The land was the property of the Royal Family, and as such, not for sale to the commoners.
Mr. Lama was awfully disappointed, frustrated and depressed, because his life-savings had gone in this bargain. He’d had plans to build a lodge for the foreign tourists and also cater to their gastronomic delights. And there he was, a broken man with a glum expression on his face. He did have his smart attitude though, and that’s one trait I really admire among the Nepalese from the mountains. They keep a stiff upper lip.
You can see this smartness even under desperate situations amongst the hill-tribes and the Gurkha war-veterans from Flanders to the Falklands. The Nepalese are indeed a stoic, proud and sympathetic people, and a visitor to Nepal notices it, and learns to cherish it after a journey in the teeming cities, crowded trains and blazing plains of the Indian subcontinent. If you’ve had the pleasure of travelling around in India with its maddening crowds, a visit to Nepal can be so exhilarating. Due to the tourism trade, the tourist or traveller might be pestered by curio-sellers and money-changers in Kathmandu’s famous Freak Street (Jochhey Tole, as the Newars call it) and at the bazaars in Thamel. But the people in the countryside are grateful if, and when, they have visitors. These visitors were, before the tourists came en masse, travellers, ascetic holy men (sadhus), monks and pilgrims, or trading Thakalis and Tibetans with mule and yak caravans, and it was normal for the travellers to be questioned about their heritage, caste, birthplace and so forth.
A Nepalese invariably asks, ‘tapaiko jat kay ho?’ Which caste do you belong to? This is because the caste-system and tribe-clans are well-established in Nepal, and every Nepalese name also bears evidence to his or her caste or tribe. For instance: Birendra Bahadur Karki. The first name is this case is Birendra, and then comes ‘Bahadur’, which means ‘courageous’ because all Nepalese males would like their sons to be brave and courageous. And finally ‘Karki’, which denotes that the person belongs to the sub-caste of the Chettris, the second highest order in the Nepalese Hindu hierarchy.
The life of a Hindu, from birth till his remains are turned to ashes, is saturated with religion. Everything he or she does, even eating and drinking, is connected with a religious ceremony. Whereas India has thrown away the shackles of colonialism, as well as the privilege of hundreds of Rajas and Maharajas, because it is a secular state in accordance to its constitution, Nepal still remains Hindu, perhaps due to the fact that its doors were closed to the outside world, and foreign influence kept at bay. But in this Himalayan enclave which has been conserved by dynasties of Shah kings and Ranas who usurped the throne, there are also other ethnic Nepalese who practice other religions, like Buddhism, Animism, Islam etc. India has solved the problems of underprivileged tribes and castes by giving them the status of ‘scheduled’ and has created scholarships from the school-level to the University level.
The reason why the Maobadis under Pushpa Kamal Dahal, alias Comrade Prachandra,became stronger in West Nepal (Rukum, Rolpa, Jajarkot und Salyan) was because of Nepal’s general poverty, corruption, nepotism and lack of perspective. Only a small section of the Nepalese population benefited from the schools, colleges und universities and the blessing of Nepal-aid from foreign countries and mountain-tourism. The Maobadis are fighting now for the banishment of monarchy and removal of the feudal structures in the society.
In Nepal it was always difficult for a poor dalit (lower caste) or someone from the hill-tribes to set foot in Kathmandu, and give them a good education. It is a sad fact that only the rich can send their children to the best English schools in Kathmandu, Darjeeling, Kalimpong or Gorakhpur. The rest of the Nepalese parents sent their children to the government-run schools, where the standard of education was miserable. Nevertheless, thousands of Nepalese students pass their School Leaving Certificate exams and go to colleges and universities, with an English handicap.
In the Hindu society of Nepal, the King has always been the patriarch, who swears to his descent from ancient Vedic heroes who were worshipped by the people. A Newsweek interview with the former King Birendra Shah also didn’t help to throw new light into this ancient tradition, for His Majesty coughed up a diplomatic reply and that was it. The Bada Raj Guru, a Brahmin, was the first State Minister in ancient times, though the Nepalese Raj Guru has still retained his power, because in this Hindu set-up every governmental or stately decision is associated with a religious ceremony. For instance when the King of Nepal leaves his Narayanhiti Palace and visits his own country or other countries, the court astrologer is consulted to choose an auspicious day. The King is for the Hindus, not only the protector and preserver of ancient Hindu culture, but is also a manifestation of tradition and development in the Hindu world.
In September 1995, I was astonished how far the winds of democracy had swayed into Kathmandu valley. In Kathmandu Valley there are three former kingdoms: Kathmandu, Bhaktapur (Bhadgaon) and Patan (Lalitpur). At the Rato Bangala, an elite school in Patan smack in the middle of the Sri Durbar, run by a dear family I personally know, I had the privilege of taking part at a school theatre and there were parents and guests from Kathmandu’s upper society. A literary natak (play) in Nepali was staged, in which the protagonists played the role of the people of Kirtipur during the times of Prithivi Narayan Shah. The entire play was from the viewpoint of the besieged and cheated Kirtipurians, and not from the angle of the attacking and marauding Gorkha king in 1768.
I found it rather innovative and courageous on the part of Patan’s man-of-letters Mr. Kamal Mani Dixit, in comparison to the pre-democracy days when everything was controlled, and lips feared to speak about human rights and democracy. The people of Kirtipur had put up a brilliant fight in those days, but were defeated, and the males of this brave kingdom, located on a hillock near the Tribhuvan University, had to pay a terrible price. The Shah king ordered the lips and ears of the Kirtipurians to be cut. Only the traditional wind-instrument players retained their lips and ears. It was a bloody affair with a huge pile of lips and ears. The barbaric treatment meted out to the Kirtipurians spread like wildfire in the other parts of Kathmandu Valley and soon Patan, Bhaktapur and Kathmandu fell.
If you are planning to go to Nepal soon, do visit the brave town of Kirtipur, near Kathmandu. The triple-roofed Bagh Bhairab temple walls in Kirtipur are still decorated with swords and shields of the Kirtipurian troops defeated by Prithivi Narayan Shah’s victorious Gorkha army. There is also an image of Vishnu astride the Garuda. Underneath you’ll see the elephant-headed God Ganesh and Kumar. The Nepalese king is also revered as an incarnation of the Hindu God Vishnu. I don’t want to sound like Borat, but blood sacrifices are made on two auspicious days: Tuesday and Saturday mornings. Another place in Kathmandu valley where such blood-sacrifices are made is in the temple of the Southern-Kali, where the Nepalese cook their lunch and have a feast after the temple visit.
I had a chance to meet King Birendra at the reception in La Redoute (Bonn) and had a small talk with such niceties as ‘How long are you in Germany? When are you returning?’ At the Graf Zeppelin Hotel in Stuttgart and Echterdingen airport, where I had the opportunity of handing Queen Ayeshwarya, who was a fellow poet despite her cruel role during the democracy revolution in 1990, a bouquet of flowers which I’d brought along from Freiburg im Breisgau. The late Madame Busak, the Stuttgarter Royal Nepalese honorary consul, was also there, in addition to Herrn Späth, the then Minister-Präsident of Baden-Württemberg. The Nepalese anthem never sounded more nostalgic then, and the traditionally quaint, triangular Hindu Nepalese flags fluttered in Stuttgart’s windy airport as the Bundesgrenzschutz played the Nepalese and German anthems.
In the meantime, Nepal’s multi-party government and the Maobadis have signed a peace accord and declared a formal end to a ten-year war of terror that killed more than 13,000 Nepalese. The agreement paves the way for the Maoists to give up their weapons and be confined to UN-monitored camps. An assembly will draft a new constitution and decide the future of the King Gyanendra Shah’s dynasty as the monarch of Nepal.
One thing is definite: the Maoists and the other communists don’t want the 200 year old monarchy anymore. What is encouraging, and curious, is that they have vowed to honor the outcome, even if the assembly decides to maintain a ceremonial monarch, stripped of his powers. A new wind blows in the Himalayas. Will the Maobadis give up all their arms like the Khampas (Tibetan freedom fighters from Eastern Tibet who’d come to Langtang) did in 1974, after they were confronted by the Royal Gurkhas? With a little bit of monitoring from the UN and Swiss officers, it might be possible to fill up a few containers, but will all the Maobadis surrender their arms? We can only hope and trust them to do so.
What will happen to the angry, restless, mobilised Maobadi fighters and child soldiers? Will they go back to their schools, if not destroyed, or for treatment in case they are traumatised? Will there be social programs for those who suffered under the atrocities of the government troops and the Maobadis? There’s a lot to be done in this country under the shadow of the Himalayas. Will it be a back to the village dream, after the triumphal march of the Maobadis into Kathmandu, heads and hands smeared with red vermilion powder and automatic guns in their hands? Or will the new government use the manpower resources by mobilising and subliming their youthful energies, towards the development of new jobs and a new economy?
Copyright © 2007 Satis Shroff, Freiburg
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About the Author: Satis Shroff is a writer and poet based in Freiburg (poems, fiction, non-fiction) who also writes on ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes. He has studied Zoology and Botany in Nepal, Medicine and Social Science in Germany and Creative Writing in Freiburg and Manchester. He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize.
Writing experience: Satis Shroff contributes regularly articles and stories to www.Americanchronicle.com with its 21 affiliated US newspapers. He has written two language books on the Nepali language for DSE (Deutsche Stiftung für Entwicklungsdienst) & Horlemannverlag, and an anthology of poems (www.Lulu.com). He has written three feature articles in the Munich-based Nelles Verlag’s ‘Nepal’ on the Himalayan Kingdom’s Gurkhas, sacred mountains and Nepalese symbols and on Hinduism in ‘Nepal: Myths & Realities (Book Faith India) and his poem ‘Mental Molotovs’ was published in epd-Entwicklungsdienst (Frankfurt). He has written many articles in The Rising Nepal, The Christian Science Monitor, the Independent, the Fryburger, Swatantra Biswa (USIS publication, Himal Asia, 3Journal Freiburg, top ten rated poems in www.nepalforum.com (I dream, Oleron, an Unforgettable Isle, A Flight to the Himalayas, Which Witch in Germany?, Fatal Decision, Santa Fe, Nirmala, Between Terror and Ecstasy, The Broken Poet, Himalaya: Menschen und Mythen, A Gurkha Mother, Kathmandu is Nepal, My Nepal, Quo vadis?). Articles, book-reviews and poems in, www.isj.com, www.inso.org., www.nepalikhabar.com. Please also search www.google & www.yahoo under: Satis Shroff.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Love Songs On a Misty Morning (Satis Shroff)
Love Songs On a Misty Morning (Satis Shroff)
Do You Remember?
On a misty morning at Pokhara,
We sat in a dugout canoe
With our college friends.
The misty veil slowly disappeared.
Mirrored on the torquoise waters
Of the lake Phewa
Were the virgin white peaks
Crowned by Machhapuchare,
The fish-tailed one.
Placid, serene, majestic,
A moment of magic.
Do you remember?
The love songs I sang from our canoe,
Strumming on my guitar
Were meant for you.
For you alone.
Even the Himalayan birds
Stopped chirping
To eavesdrop at our wondrous melodies,
Like at a Rodighar.
Our friends sang in chorus:
Nepalese folk-songs,
Bollywood and English lyrics
On that misty morning.
Songs sung in chorus
To share our feelings
Of the beauty of Nature
And human attachments.
Breaking the tranquillity
Of the misty morning in the Lake Phewa.
A motley symphony in the morning.
The elderly Phewa-fisher smiled,
As he rowed the long canoe.
A knowing smile,
For he too had sung love lyrics
When he was young.
A frugal life in the Annapurna hills,
Trying hard to make ends meet.
He had his life behind him,
We had ours before us.
Life was cruel,
But love was everywhere.
Do You Remember?
On a misty morning at Pokhara,
We sat in a dugout canoe
With our college friends.
The misty veil slowly disappeared.
Mirrored on the torquoise waters
Of the lake Phewa
Were the virgin white peaks
Crowned by Machhapuchare,
The fish-tailed one.
Placid, serene, majestic,
A moment of magic.
Do you remember?
The love songs I sang from our canoe,
Strumming on my guitar
Were meant for you.
For you alone.
Even the Himalayan birds
Stopped chirping
To eavesdrop at our wondrous melodies,
Like at a Rodighar.
Our friends sang in chorus:
Nepalese folk-songs,
Bollywood and English lyrics
On that misty morning.
Songs sung in chorus
To share our feelings
Of the beauty of Nature
And human attachments.
Breaking the tranquillity
Of the misty morning in the Lake Phewa.
A motley symphony in the morning.
The elderly Phewa-fisher smiled,
As he rowed the long canoe.
A knowing smile,
For he too had sung love lyrics
When he was young.
A frugal life in the Annapurna hills,
Trying hard to make ends meet.
He had his life behind him,
We had ours before us.
Life was cruel,
But love was everywhere.
Monday, November 26, 2007
The Japanese Garden, East Bloc Kid Goes West (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
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The Japanese Garden (Satis Shroff)
Nine Hauptschule kids in their teens,
Sit on benches in the Japanese Garden,
Near the placid, torquoise lake.
The homework is done sloppily.
Who cares?
The boys are bursting with hormones,
As they tease the only blonde from Siberia.
A fat guy named Heino likes the blonde,
But she doesn’t fancy him.
Annäherung, Vermeidung:
A conflict develops.
The teacher tells him in no uncertain terms:
“Lass Sie bitte in Ruhe!”
But Heino with the MP3 doesn’t care
And carries on:
Grasping her breasts,
Caressing her groin.
She puts up a fight to no avail.
Heino is stronger, impertinent,
And full of street rhetoric.
Meanwhile, the other teenies
Are climbing, kicking the Japanese pavilion,
Spitting, cursing shouting
At all and sundry in German.
The grey-haired gardener in charge comes,
Tells the boys to behave
And goes.
Boredom in the afternoon.
The boys don’t want to play soccer,
Handball or basketball.
Sitting around, criticising, irritating each other,
Is cool.
Creative workshops: music, songs, essays, own movies?
Nothing interests them.
Killing time together,
Cursing at each other,
Getting a kick provoking passersby,
This is the Hauptschule in Germany today.
The clever kids go to the Gymnasium,
After the fourth class.
The trouble-makers, aggressive alpha-wolves
And clowns remain in the Hauptschule.
An ironical name for a school,
For Haupt means the ‘main’
Comprising the lower class of the society:
Kids of foreigners, ethnic Germans from the east Bloc,
Who hope to make it somehow,
As apprentices for hair salons, car repair garages,
Kebab shops, Italian restaurants, Balkan kitchens,
Roofers and masons.
The Japanese Garden, a present from Matsuyama
To the people of Freiburg,
With truncated shrubs and rounded trees.
A waterfall and quiet niches,
A place for contemplation and solitude.
For the Hauptschule kids,
A place to get together,
Be loud, grunt, fight with fists, shove, scratch,
Slap, spit everywhere,
And play the gangsta.
“At night they throw empty alcohol bottles
Where ever they like,” says an elderly lady
From the neighbourhood.
Wonder how the kids are in Matsuyama?
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Missgeburt and Sonderschule (Satis Shroff)
“Halt’s Maul, Du Missgeburt!”
Says one to the other.
‘Halt dein Mund, Du Jude!
Ich hasse Juden, Mann!’ barks an obese Hauptschuler.
The others play football in the classroom.
The teacher says emphatically,
‘It’s forbidden to play soccer here!’
They reply in chorus:
‘It doesn’t disturb anybody.’
A grey-blonde teacher barges into the room and says:
‘Leben Sie hier noch?’ to his colleague.
Are you still alive?
Boris has an appointment with the police.
They nabbed him stealing a car.
Nicky quips to Suleika:
‘Du hast einen fetten Arsch!
Gebärfreudige Hintern.’
Albin runs helter skelter,
Settles down on a table,
Chewing gum between his yellow teeth,
Doesn’t like authority.
Hans, Fritz and Bruno do their extra homework,
Meted out as a punishment by the English teacher.
Vitaly throws scissors in the classroom,
Which land with a thud on the cork wall.
Heino is doing his best to disturb the group,
With his loud MP3 music.
‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Du Hurensohn!’ he says,
To a fellow classmate.
A Kosovo-kid who’s hyperactive,
Steals and fights at school.
The Germans send him to a Sonderschule.
His father’s proud for ‘sonder’ means ‘special.’
His son is attending an elite school, he thinks,
Only to realise later,
It was a school for difficult children.
A dead-end.
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East Bloc Kid Goes West (Satis Shroff)
A pair of heavy scissors fly
In a dark Hauptschule classroom,
Thrown by an Aussiedler school-kid,
Near Freiburg’s Japanese Garden.
The scissors can slash your face,
Or mine.
You can be maimed for life,
Like Scarface,
If the sharp ends
Bury in your eyes,
Or mine.
Let there be light.
Vitaly, a boy from the former east Bloc
Comes to the West,
In search of ancestors and heritage.
What he gets is rejection but freedom.
Freedom to do as he pleases,
With pleasant negative sanctions.
‘Even in jail they have TV,’ he says with a laugh.
He grows up in a ghetto,
And his anger burns.
Anger at his ageing parents,
Who forced him to come to the West,
But who are themselves lost in this new world
Of democratic, liberal values,
Luxurious and electronic consumer delights,
Where everyone cares for himself or herself,
Where the old structures of the society
They clung to in the east Bloc days
Don’t exist.
A brave new world,
A Schlaraffenland,
Where economy and commerce flourishes,
Where the individual’s view is important,
To himself,
To herself
And to others.
The East Bloc boy learns
To assert himself in the West,
Not with solid arguments and rhetoric
But with his two fists.
He fancies cars and their contents,
Breaks open the windows,
Takes all he wants.
Brushes with the police
At an early age.
English, Latin and French at school,
Irritates him,
He prefers to play the clown:
To dance on the table,
Make suggestive moves with his groin,
High on designer drugs,
High all the time.
Opens the classroom door,
Sees a girl from the seventh grade,
And yells at her:
‘Nach der Schule fick ich Dich.’
‘Screw you after school.’
His behaviour brings laughter
But he turns off the girls he admires.
He grins and insults his peers.
Rejected by youngsters,
Admonished by grown-ups.
He watches the society.
Chic clothes, streamlined cars, plastic money,
But he forgets that there’s personal performance
Behind these worldly riches.
‘The rich German drives his BMW
With his head in the air.
What does he care?
What does he care?’ thinks Vitaly.
A pair of scissors fly
In a dark classroom.
His pent-up emotions,
Let loose in a German Hauptschool,
Near the Japanese Garden.
His classmate from Croatia
Throws chairs at the another.
‘Aus Spass’ he says.
Just for fun.
He shouts at the Putzfrau,
Who cleans the classrooms:
‘Sie Geistesgestörte!’
You mad woman.
‚My French-cap is XXX’ he sings
And jerks his pelvis at her.
Is the school-system to blame?
Is western culture, tradition
Social, liberal values and norms to blame?
Are his parents who speak a conserved Deutsch to blame?
Is his Russian mother-tongue
And his great Russian soul to blame?
Nobody answers his questions,
Nobody cares,
Out in the West.
“Verdammt, I want to be heard!” screams Vitaly.
The people shake their heads,
Mutter, ‘Ein Spinner!’
And walk away.
A pair of sharp, long scissors
Fly in a dark classroom.
The scissors can slash your face,
Or mine.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Through Nepalese Eyes (Satis Shroff)
‘Through Nepalese Eyes’ is about the journey of a young Nepalese woman to Germany to meet her brother, who lives with his German wife and daughter in an allemanic town named Freiburg. It is a travelogue written by a sensitive, modern British public-school educated man. He describes the two worlds: Asia and Europe and the people he meets. There is a touch of sadness when his sister returns to her home in the foothills of the Himalayas.
(205 Seiten) Paperback: €12.00 Download: €6.25
It cries to be written because there are seldom books written by Nepalese writers about themselves. It’s always the casual foreign traveller, trekker or climber who writes about the people in the developing and least-developed countries of the so-called Third World.
The likely readers are the increasing male and female tourists, trekkers, climbers from the whole world who make their way to the Himalayas, each seeking something indefinable, perhaps peace, tranquillity, spiritual experience or a much-needed monologue with oneself in the heights of the Himalayas. The book is aimed at all Nepalophile and South Asian readers irrespective of their origin, and seeks to contribute towards understanding the Nepalese psyche, the world that the Nepalese live in, and the fact that it has to catch up with the rest of the world in terms of modernisation and innovations from the western world, amid the thoughts and beliefs, cultures and religions of the Himalayan world.
The book is divided according to the iterinary of the protagonist’s travels, her sojourn in Freiburg (Germany) and her excursions to Switzerland (Basle and Grindelwald) and France (Alsace and Paris-Versailles) and ends with the chapter ‘Return to the Himalayas’. It deals with the ‘Begegnungen’ or encounters with friendly Germans, the circle of her brother’s friends and the intercultural and inter-religious questions that she is confronted with during these conversations and the encouraging intercultural work being performed by Germans and foreigners specifically in Freiburg and Germany in general in creating a multicultural society, where a foreigner doesn’t have to fear deportation, persecution and xenophobia.
As my friend Satish Shroff requested me to write some introductory words to this book, I decided to start a very unusual way, by congratulating the author for the theme chosen: life, people, mentalities in East and West, with all inherent similarities (alas! few enough) and differences (quite a number). How right the late Rudyard Kipling was when expressing the essence of this subject: “East is East and West is West: Never the twins shall meet”! But by describing the two worlds as twins, he also hints at existing and possibly developing similarities.
Today’s world and way of life shortens the physical and mental distances, tending towards globalisation. Let us hope that one day, the only remaining differences will be of the geographic, artistic and cultural kind. Because there are elements which are common to both worlds and, therefore, they bring them together. Human nature, with all its emotions, love, sympathy, sorrow, hatred and a multitude of other feelings, is the same and the common element of both Eastern and Western people. The writer successfully brings out these points, clearly delineating each character.
This work is a window wherefrom one can peep to the East from the West and vice-versa. One can make out the geographical distributions, the cultural distinctions and the historic development of East and West separately. But if someone ponders on it, he finds the same basic human sentiments and values that hold mankind together since times immemorial.
Personally, I think that this and other works of this kind will prove instrumental in creating a good understanding between the two worlds, by describing the respective natures, cultures, traditions, art, social life and thus contributing towards a better knowledge and appreciation of each other, which will hopefully result into creating a new, more human world for the whole mankind sharing the same earth and sky. This world should be like a great family, and we, its members, should be constantly striving for maintaining its unity.
So, my friend Satish, as you see, I consider you one of the architects of this new world, this ideal, this Shangri-La of the whole mankind. In spite of many private and global setbacks, I am sure we are approaching it, with little steps, it is true, but we are coming nearer with every smile, with each gesture of tolerance and understanding between the two still different worlds.
I congratulate you, my dear friend, on your efforts to close the gap. May everyone read your book with open eyes, mind and heart.
Bonn, the 26th of May 2007
(Dr. Novel K. Rai)
Former Nepalese Ambassador to Germany
What others have said about the author: „Die Schilderungen von Satis Shroff in ‘Through Nepalese Eyes’ sind faszinierend und geben uns die Möglichkeit, unsere Welt mit neuen Augen zu sehen.“ (Alice Grünfelder von Unionsverlag / Limmat Verlag, Zürich).
Since 1974 I have been living on and off in Nepal, writing articles and publishing books about Nepal-- this beautiful Himalayan country. Even before I knew Satis Shroff personally (later) I was deeply impressed by his articles, which helped me very much to deepen my knowledge about Nepal.Satis Shroff is one of the very few Nepalese writers being able to compare ecology, development and modernisation in the ‘Third’ and ‘First’ World. He is doing this with great enthusiasm, competence and intelligence, showing his great concern for the development of his own country. (Ludmilla Tüting, journalist and publisher, Berlin).
Due to his very pleasant personality and in-depth experience in both South Asian, as well as Western workstyles and living, Satis Shroff brings with him a cultural sensitivity that is refined. His writings have always reflected the positive attributes of optimism, tolerance, and a need to explain and to describe without looking down on either his subject or his reader. (Kanak Mani Dixit, Himal Southasia, Kathmandu)
Satis Shroff writes with intelligence, wit and grace. (Bruce Dobler, Associate Fulbright Professor in Creative Writing MFA, University of Iowa).
(205 Seiten) Paperback: €12.00 Download: €6.25
It cries to be written because there are seldom books written by Nepalese writers about themselves. It’s always the casual foreign traveller, trekker or climber who writes about the people in the developing and least-developed countries of the so-called Third World.
The likely readers are the increasing male and female tourists, trekkers, climbers from the whole world who make their way to the Himalayas, each seeking something indefinable, perhaps peace, tranquillity, spiritual experience or a much-needed monologue with oneself in the heights of the Himalayas. The book is aimed at all Nepalophile and South Asian readers irrespective of their origin, and seeks to contribute towards understanding the Nepalese psyche, the world that the Nepalese live in, and the fact that it has to catch up with the rest of the world in terms of modernisation and innovations from the western world, amid the thoughts and beliefs, cultures and religions of the Himalayan world.
The book is divided according to the iterinary of the protagonist’s travels, her sojourn in Freiburg (Germany) and her excursions to Switzerland (Basle and Grindelwald) and France (Alsace and Paris-Versailles) and ends with the chapter ‘Return to the Himalayas’. It deals with the ‘Begegnungen’ or encounters with friendly Germans, the circle of her brother’s friends and the intercultural and inter-religious questions that she is confronted with during these conversations and the encouraging intercultural work being performed by Germans and foreigners specifically in Freiburg and Germany in general in creating a multicultural society, where a foreigner doesn’t have to fear deportation, persecution and xenophobia.
As my friend Satish Shroff requested me to write some introductory words to this book, I decided to start a very unusual way, by congratulating the author for the theme chosen: life, people, mentalities in East and West, with all inherent similarities (alas! few enough) and differences (quite a number). How right the late Rudyard Kipling was when expressing the essence of this subject: “East is East and West is West: Never the twins shall meet”! But by describing the two worlds as twins, he also hints at existing and possibly developing similarities.
Today’s world and way of life shortens the physical and mental distances, tending towards globalisation. Let us hope that one day, the only remaining differences will be of the geographic, artistic and cultural kind. Because there are elements which are common to both worlds and, therefore, they bring them together. Human nature, with all its emotions, love, sympathy, sorrow, hatred and a multitude of other feelings, is the same and the common element of both Eastern and Western people. The writer successfully brings out these points, clearly delineating each character.
This work is a window wherefrom one can peep to the East from the West and vice-versa. One can make out the geographical distributions, the cultural distinctions and the historic development of East and West separately. But if someone ponders on it, he finds the same basic human sentiments and values that hold mankind together since times immemorial.
Personally, I think that this and other works of this kind will prove instrumental in creating a good understanding between the two worlds, by describing the respective natures, cultures, traditions, art, social life and thus contributing towards a better knowledge and appreciation of each other, which will hopefully result into creating a new, more human world for the whole mankind sharing the same earth and sky. This world should be like a great family, and we, its members, should be constantly striving for maintaining its unity.
So, my friend Satish, as you see, I consider you one of the architects of this new world, this ideal, this Shangri-La of the whole mankind. In spite of many private and global setbacks, I am sure we are approaching it, with little steps, it is true, but we are coming nearer with every smile, with each gesture of tolerance and understanding between the two still different worlds.
I congratulate you, my dear friend, on your efforts to close the gap. May everyone read your book with open eyes, mind and heart.
Bonn, the 26th of May 2007
(Dr. Novel K. Rai)
Former Nepalese Ambassador to Germany
What others have said about the author: „Die Schilderungen von Satis Shroff in ‘Through Nepalese Eyes’ sind faszinierend und geben uns die Möglichkeit, unsere Welt mit neuen Augen zu sehen.“ (Alice Grünfelder von Unionsverlag / Limmat Verlag, Zürich).
Since 1974 I have been living on and off in Nepal, writing articles and publishing books about Nepal-- this beautiful Himalayan country. Even before I knew Satis Shroff personally (later) I was deeply impressed by his articles, which helped me very much to deepen my knowledge about Nepal.Satis Shroff is one of the very few Nepalese writers being able to compare ecology, development and modernisation in the ‘Third’ and ‘First’ World. He is doing this with great enthusiasm, competence and intelligence, showing his great concern for the development of his own country. (Ludmilla Tüting, journalist and publisher, Berlin).
Due to his very pleasant personality and in-depth experience in both South Asian, as well as Western workstyles and living, Satis Shroff brings with him a cultural sensitivity that is refined. His writings have always reflected the positive attributes of optimism, tolerance, and a need to explain and to describe without looking down on either his subject or his reader. (Kanak Mani Dixit, Himal Southasia, Kathmandu)
Satis Shroff writes with intelligence, wit and grace. (Bruce Dobler, Associate Fulbright Professor in Creative Writing MFA, University of Iowa).
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Living With Aids in Germany (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
(c) Pencil drawing satisshroff 2007
LIVING WITH AIDS IN GERMANY (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
"It's the 1st of November (Allerheiligen) and I ask myself: why do you give the dying company? In all those years I haven't visited a single grave. I can't let go of my clients before they die. I just can't bear to do it after a certain amount of deaths through Aids." This was what the guy at the local aids assistant center in Freiburg said to yours truly when I paid him a call.
How does a person afflicted with Aids feel and what does he think about himself, his family, the society and what sort of help does he get in Germany? These were the questions that I posed to HIV-positive people living in a kind of commune run by the local Aids-Hilfe in Freiburg (Southern Germany). The Aids-Hilfe is a pan-German institute which helps HIV-infected people.
The clients were in the age group 26 to 46 and some of them were drug-addicts in the past, some were chronic alcoholics, and most of them were from the middle and under-class Germany society with bi-, homo- and heterosexuals tendencies.
Even though it´s possible to protect oneself from contracting the HIV- infection, Aids still marches on. We know that it´s a disease with an unusual latent period and that the full clinical Aids leads to death. And yet we point our finger towards the minorities of the society: homosexual and bisexual men, fixers and prostitutes. In the media there´s a tendency to individualise the risks of HIV-infection, and such a stance doesn´t promote a collective coping behaviour. The infected and the aids-afflicted are still stigmatised and discriminated.
A closer look reveals that every one of us could contract HIV-infection and it has psycho-social connotations. Only a massive campaign in which parents, teachers, lecturers, medical doctors, social workers and trade-unions work together can achieve some degree of success. This campaign should be launched at school and college levels, in the tourism industry and other industrial and administrative sectors, in order to eliminate the half-knowledge and angst, and to motivate self- responsibility, and to avoid the risk of getting infected.
Take Stefan W. 46 for instance, a blond male nurse. Stefan had undergone the Aids-test in 1985 and found out that he was HIV positive. He said, "I was scared then, because I´d read an article about Aids in "Der Spiegel". After that I decided to do an Aids-test, because I couldn´t bear this fear and indecision. And when I came to know the positive result, I felt miserable and alone in this world."
I asked him whether his family had supported him.
I had problems with my parents who didn´t show any sympathy towards my homosexuality. I even lost two brothers, because they couldn't live with my Aids-problem. I was really stigmatised.
How did you come to the Aids-Hilfe and what did you expect?
For a while I had to take care of myself. It was in 1988 that I contacted the Aids-Hilfe. My aim was to get to know other HIV-infected people and to see what they offered in terms of aid. I met a nice female social- worker, who helped me a lot by telling me about dying and death. We talked about what I was to expect when I develop Aids fully, how I could relax and how to behave with my sexual partner. It was here that I received real social -support. I feel good today and I can talk about my HIV- infection openly. I don´t have to hide myself anymore. The aids-help organisation gave me a full-time job and I give advice to others. Some clients want to have a HIV-infected person as a counsellor, because they feel more accepted this way.
Did the Aids-help give you a new insight?
I know today how to react to the signals from my body. One has to create or find an environment where one can relax. I try to avoid people who don't support me. When you have Aids, you have to go from one extreme to another. I always advise others that it pays to live".
I met Wolfgang K., 26, a bar-keeper and waiter. He said he knew that he was bisexual since the age of 15. He thinks that he infected himself through a man. He admitted having had one-night stands with different men. He also said he had a junkie-phase and had done needle-sharing a lot of times.
Wolfgang says, "I came to know that I was HIV-positive on December 13,1994. I was in Freiburg at that time and went to the Aids-Hilfe and managed to get a place in this commune. I still have contact with my mother. She lives with another man. Since it was shortly before Christmas, I felt obliged to tell her before Christmas. My mother was in despair and very concerned and understood my situation. She supports me morally as usual, but I know that it´s difficult for her. She maintains her calm outwardly, but she trembles inside. I know it.
What did you expect from the Aids-Hilfe and what did they do for you?
Wolfgang said, "I expected information and personal help from them and I got it, but a bitter taste remains nevertheless. The commune isn't ideal for me. In the sport- group a lot of people wear masks and pretend to be happy and cheerful. I like riding my bike and go to swim and am relaxed. I´m a Bhagwan-disciple and practice my meditations twice a day. Ever since I started doing my meditations, I haven´t even caught the common cold.
Do you find everything negative here?
When I get the blues - when I´m depressed - there´s always someone in the house with whom I can talk. For me, the commune is an emergency landing pad. I want to study something else that´s why it´s cheaper for me. If I live here two years I´m entitled to a social apartment in Freiburg. As a HIV-infected person, I can´t carry on my sexual activities. I want to cure myself through my meditation and self-hypnosis. I have a T-helper cell count of 875, which is much better than anyone´s here.
How much rent do you pay here and how many euros do you have to live on?
The rent here is exorbitant. We have to pay 120 euros per person. Then we have to pay 15 euros for the electricity and 100 euros for the advisers. That makes 235 euros without the telephone. We get money from diverse sources: the joblessness-assistance, apartment-aid, food- and social -allowances. I live with only 150 euros a month.
Did the Aids-Hilfe help you to win a new perspective?
Through the Aids-Hilfe I´ve become positive-thinker. My basic fear of Aids has vanished. I find it good that we have personal contacts here and that they take us to seminars for further-training on Aids, so that we can understand and cope with the disease better.
Franz P., 38, is a salesman, heterosexual and came to know that he had Aids a decade ago.
I asked him," How did your family react? Did they support you?"
Franz: "My mother cried buckets of tears when she learnt that I was infected. My wife, who was then pregnant, ignored it till she got the child. Both mother and child were HIV-negative, by the way. After the birth we used contraceptives when we had sexual intercourse.
You said that you live alone now. Was your disease the reason for the separation from your spouse?
Franz: "Actually my drug-problem was the main reason. I had angst and that´s why I started taking drugs again. My wife´s father died of cancer and my wife didn´t want our son to be confronted with my Aids-problem. We lived in a small village in the Black Forest and I tried to live a normal, social life. In summer 1991 I had an infection of the lungs and came to Freiburg. In autumn 1992, I was invited to a brunch at the Aids-Hilfe and met the social worker and the others and was happy to get an apartment.
How do you find your daily life in the commune?
The social worker handles the financial and other bureaucratic aspects and we have brunch thrice a week, during which we talk about ourselves. We don´t have a structured life here. Everyone does things and is responsible only to himself. Our rooms are private and everyone has to knock on the door and when someone says "No!", it means no, without reasons. There´s a pecking-order not only in the society outside but also here. On the top of our hierarchy we have the haemophilics, then the gays and at the bottom the junkies. The heteros lie between the haemophilics and the gays. I find that one is accepted when one says one's HIV-infection was due to constant changes of female partners, than when one says it was caused by an infected-needle.
What did you expect from the Aids-Hilfe and what did you get?
I wanted to have information about Aids and contacts with other HIV-infected people and naturally psycho-social support. The social-worker accompanied me to the hospital, through the jungle of red-tape and helped me in daily life. We are allowed to live in the commune till we are physically and mentally fit and can take care of ourselves and our lives. It can also happen that some of us die here. The death-rate is 15 %.
I find that the Aids-Hilfe does predominantly preventive work. There had been a lot of in-fighting in the organisation, but now it´s all quiet. The social-workers have high ideals but there's also a commercial aspect to it. I'm looking for another apartment and want to go on living.
What would you advise other people in terms of preventive measures like safer-sex, being faithful to each other, no sex or social expectations?
It sounds good but I find people should be open to themselves and to the others. When they are infected they shouldn't practice a double moral. They shouldn´t try to ignore the matter. The infected should let themselves be guided by their inner feelings. I think the infection destabilises one´s self-consciousness. In the commune I've stabilised my psyche, and this is ignored by modern medicine. I live here with people from different social structures and milieu, and we have one thing in common: the HIV-infection. It's possible to live out one's ego, because there´s no community-life. It's every man for himself and the social-worker for us all.
Bruno K.,27 is a mason and was a drug-addict since the age of 13. He'd taken soft drugs and worked at a construction- site and carried cement-sacks on his back, was tired after the work and needed stronger stuff that hash and alcohol. He got Valeron-N from a doctor (10 bottles at once), because the doctor "was too lazy to look up the Red-List. He can't cope with with the society and can't live legally. But he's glad that he has a substitution-identity card now. He was and searched by the police six times a day, because he was well-known as a junkie. He left his parents' home at the age of 15.
How did your mother react when she came to know that you were HIV-positive?
Bruno: "That can't be true!" was how my mother reacted. She didn't reject me because of the infection but because of my long, unkempt hair. She said that she´d refuse to see me as long as I had my long hair. She circulates in high-society. I find such people false and hypocritical.
When and where did you know that you were infected?
I came to know that I had the HIV-infection when I was in jail. I and my girl-friend wanted to contract Aids wilfully, and we left our injections and needles where we´d used them.
What drugs do you take?
I take Methadon, Flanitrazepan and Testosteron, because I've become very lethargic due to the substitution therapy. I can sleep sixteen hours a day. When I´m so tired through the substitution-therapy, I find it difficult to get in contact with women. He points his index-finger at his big TV-set and says," In that box they show Aids-ads in every channel and the people have become tolerant due to the TV-spots.
What do you think of therapy?
I haven't done a therapy. It's all useless. The judges give you a jail-sentence instead of a therapy these days. I was in the drug-scene previously and have made my experience with 3.6 grams of heroin. I oscillated between life and death. I realised that I wasn't ready to die. Now I have nothing to do with drugs. I smoke hash now and then.
Are you trying to reintegrate yourself socially, and trying to get a clear picture about your own situation?
I hate nothing more than this society. I believe in God, but I hate the church. I was born in the wrong century. I wait and contemplate that there are at least 100 ways of killing myself. But I'm alive. As soon as the Aids-symptoms get bad and I can't take care of my own interests, I'll take the necessary measures and end my life.
Did you get good tips from the Aids-Hilfe?
I didn´t get any advice from them. I got good and useful advice from the social-worker. When it comes to a quarrel, the social-worker always has the last word. I have a generation- conflict with the social-worker, because I love wearing old, torn jeans with slits, and she sounds like my mother. My long hair and torn-jeans are a form of protest against the mainstream.
What plans do you have for the future?
I'm satisfied as long as I can live, can move about and decide for myself. I can be blind through Aids. In that case I'd prefer suicide (Freitod). I can't bear the artificial, insincere compassion and sympathy of the others when I have pain, and when I can't fight back. I'd rather shoot myself before that happens. Despite all that I find life worth living and we can only bring changes as long as we live. The chance that a wonder-drug will be discovered is slim. I have no angst as far as death is concerned. It's the pain that I'm scared of, and the fear that I might be helpless...
Eberhard N.,36, is an electro-specialist heterosexual from Stuttgart. He knew he had the HIV eight years, and he lives in Freiburg since half a year and was nine months at the Aids-Hospice in Oberhammersbach.
Do you know how you infected yourself?
I had a girl-friend named Petra and she was also HIV-positive. She didn´t care less. I was behind bars for 18 months because the police caught me with drugs. I´m a dry alcoholic. At that time, I didn't have anything to drink. A junkie friend offered us heroin and we used the same needle. The bloke was positive and gave us his needle.
How did your family react?
They shoved me off. In 1993 I landed in the Hospice and my family visited me there. I telephone my mother every week. She wanted to visit me in December 1994 and now it's August 1995, and she hasn't showed up as yet. I have liver-cirrosis and it would mean my death if I'd drink.
How did you come to Freiburg from Stuttgart? Who helped you?
I'm a well-known alcoholic in Stuttgart. I got in touch with the Aids-Hilfe through the Hospice. I got an apartment and received help from Freiburg. On Christmas I even received a financial shot from a girls' school. I bought a stereo-set with the money, because I can't live without music.I like Neil Young.
Do you take medicines? What are your future plans?
I take only Hepaloges N ( a plant-based liver-remedy). I find that a healthy psyche is the best medicine against disease. One ought to keep one's hands away from medicines. I live for now and today. What´s the use of making great plans? How do I know what it's going to be like in a year? I live intensively though. My thoughts are good. I smoke a joint or a pipe now and then. I don't drink. I haven't given up as yet. One should keep on fighting. One can die fast---in a matter of days. When I was at the Hospice, I thought I was lost. I'm a Pink Floyd fan too and went all the way to Strassbourg (France) to attend the concert on the 9th of September 1994. One has to gave a goal. I want to live here, because after two years I can get a new apartment. And I want to have a girl-friend...
"There's a lot of stress involved in working with Aids-patients because one is confronted with difficult situations. You have to make quick decisions and ask yourself later: was it necessary or not ", says the guy of the Aids-Hilfe Freiburg. It´s a life- and work-situation. The social workers have to give hope to the infected clients and then see with their own eyes how they deteriorate physically and mentally. How does a social worker react to the deaths?
He shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands up and said, "It's the 1st of November (Allerheiligen) and I ask myself: why do you give the dying company? In all those years I haven't visited a single grave. I can't let go of my clients before they die. I just can't bear to do it after a certain amount of deaths through Aids..."
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Two Books by Satis Shroff (Lulu.com)
Katmandu, Katmandu
von Satis Shroff
Satis Shroff’s anthology is about a poet caught between upheavals in two countries, Nepal and Germany, where maoists and skin-heads are trying to undermine democratic values, religious and cultural life. Satis Shroff writes political poetry, in German and English, about the war in Nepal (My Nepal, Quo vadis?), the sad fate of the Nepalese people (My Nightmare, Only Sagarmatha Knows), the emergence of neo-fascism in Germany (Mental Molotovs, The Last Tram to Littenweiler) and love (The Broken Poet, Without Words, About You), women’s woes (Nirmala, Bombay Brothel).
His bicultural perspective makes his poems rich, full of awe and at the same time heartbreakingly sad. In writing ‘home,’ he not only returns to his country of origin time and again, he also carries the fate of his people to readers in the West, and his task of writing is a very important one in political and social terms. His true gift is to invent Nepalese metaphors and make them accessible to the West through his poetry.
(187 Seiten) Paperback: €13.84 Download: €6.25
What others have said about Satis Shroff's writngs:
It's always a pleasure to read Satis Shroff's fine, well-written artistic work. I admire his strength and ability. So with that said just write on, poet. ( in WritersDen.com)
The manner in which Satis Shroff writes takes the reader right along with him. Extremely vivid and just enough and the irony of the music. Beautiful prosaic thought and astounding writing.
'Your muscles flex, the nerves flatter, the heart gallops,
As you feel how puny you are,
Among all those incessant and powerful waves.'
Satis Shroff's writing is refined – pure undistilled. (Susan Marie, www.Gather.com).
Reviewed by Albert Hagenaars in WritersDen.com 8/17/2007 Fascinerend! Ik voel veel verwantschap met deze thematiek. Ik wil deze pagina's blijven volgen! Tot de volgende keer dus...
Reviewed by Heide Poudel in WritersDen.com 6/4/2007 Brilliant, I enjoyed your poems throughly. I can hear the underlying German and Nepali thoughts within your English language. The strictness of the German form mixed with the vividness of your Nepalese mother tongue. An interesting mix. Nonetheless we need more authors bringing stories of Nepal to the West. Nepal is a jewel on the Earths surface, her majesty and charm should be protected, and yet exposed with dignity through words. You do your country justice and I find your bicultural understanding so unique and a marvel to read.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Through Nepalese Eyes By Satis Shroff
‘Through Nepalese Eyes’ is about the journey of a young Nepalese woman to Germany to meet her brother, who lives with his German wife and daughter in an allemanic town named Freiburg. It is a travelogue written by a sensitive, modern British public-school educated man. He describes the two worlds: Asia and Europe and the people he meets. There is a touch of sadness when his sister returns to her home in the foothills of the Himalayas.
(205 pages) Paperback: €12.00 Download: €6.25 Language: English
von Satis Shroff
Satis Shroff’s anthology is about a poet caught between upheavals in two countries, Nepal and Germany, where maoists and skin-heads are trying to undermine democratic values, religious and cultural life. Satis Shroff writes political poetry, in German and English, about the war in Nepal (My Nepal, Quo vadis?), the sad fate of the Nepalese people (My Nightmare, Only Sagarmatha Knows), the emergence of neo-fascism in Germany (Mental Molotovs, The Last Tram to Littenweiler) and love (The Broken Poet, Without Words, About You), women’s woes (Nirmala, Bombay Brothel).
His bicultural perspective makes his poems rich, full of awe and at the same time heartbreakingly sad. In writing ‘home,’ he not only returns to his country of origin time and again, he also carries the fate of his people to readers in the West, and his task of writing is a very important one in political and social terms. His true gift is to invent Nepalese metaphors and make them accessible to the West through his poetry.
(187 Seiten) Paperback: €13.84 Download: €6.25
What others have said about Satis Shroff's writngs:
It's always a pleasure to read Satis Shroff's fine, well-written artistic work. I admire his strength and ability. So with that said just write on, poet. ( in WritersDen.com)
The manner in which Satis Shroff writes takes the reader right along with him. Extremely vivid and just enough and the irony of the music. Beautiful prosaic thought and astounding writing.
'Your muscles flex, the nerves flatter, the heart gallops,
As you feel how puny you are,
Among all those incessant and powerful waves.'
Satis Shroff's writing is refined – pure undistilled. (Susan Marie, www.Gather.com).
Reviewed by Albert Hagenaars in WritersDen.com 8/17/2007 Fascinerend! Ik voel veel verwantschap met deze thematiek. Ik wil deze pagina's blijven volgen! Tot de volgende keer dus...
Reviewed by Heide Poudel in WritersDen.com 6/4/2007 Brilliant, I enjoyed your poems throughly. I can hear the underlying German and Nepali thoughts within your English language. The strictness of the German form mixed with the vividness of your Nepalese mother tongue. An interesting mix. Nonetheless we need more authors bringing stories of Nepal to the West. Nepal is a jewel on the Earths surface, her majesty and charm should be protected, and yet exposed with dignity through words. You do your country justice and I find your bicultural understanding so unique and a marvel to read.
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Through Nepalese Eyes By Satis Shroff
‘Through Nepalese Eyes’ is about the journey of a young Nepalese woman to Germany to meet her brother, who lives with his German wife and daughter in an allemanic town named Freiburg. It is a travelogue written by a sensitive, modern British public-school educated man. He describes the two worlds: Asia and Europe and the people he meets. There is a touch of sadness when his sister returns to her home in the foothills of the Himalayas.
(205 pages) Paperback: €12.00 Download: €6.25 Language: English
Monday, October 8, 2007
Fellowship for Journalists (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
Dear Blog-readers,
I case you're a Blogging-journalst and are interested in getting a Fellowship you can apply at Saja.org. The fellowship is open to any projects about South Asia or the diaspora. You don't have to be South Asian to participate!
Questions to Prof. Sandeep Junnarkar, SAJA Awards Chair:
sandeep@journalism.cuny.edu
From SAJA, the South Asian Journalists Association, www.saja.org
SAJA Reporting Fellowships--$20,000 toward in-depth projects
http://saja.org/resources/srf/srf_2007.htm
As part of its mission to encourage in-depth coverage of South Asia and
the South Asian Diaspora, SAJA & SAJA Group Inc are pleased to announce a
call for submissions for its third Annual SAJA Reporting Fellowships
(SRF). Open to freelancers and staff journalists in any medium, the
fellowships are meant to encourage in-depth reporting projects by
providing grants to cover a portion of reporting expenses.
A total of upto $20,000 may be given out annually, divided among projects or a
single project at SAJA's discretion. Each fellowship award is typically between
$3,000-$7,000.
These Fellowships, which were launched in 2005 to ensure follow-up
reportage about the 2004 tsunami and its victims, were initially funded by
SAJA members, corporate donors and friends of SAJA. This year, SRF
received a major financial boost thanks to the support of the Mahadeva
Family Foundation, which will make an annual contribution of $20,000.
"The support of Kumar Mahadeva and Simi Ahuja, who have been part of the SAJA
community for more than a decade, is critical to SAJA's core mission of
improving the coverage of South Asia through the SAJA Reporting Fellowships and
similar programs," said Deepti Hajela, the group's president and an Associated
Press newswoman. "This is going to have a major impact on the kind of stories
that the Fellows do and how Americans learn about what's going on in South Asia
and the diaspora today."
The deadline for SRF proposals is Wednesday, Oct. 31, 2007.
More info at:
http://saja.org/resources/srf/srf_2007.htm
Questions to Prof. Sandeep Junnarkar, SAJA Awards Chair:
sandeep@journalism.cuny.edu
- Your friends at SAJA
[This is just an example of the kinds of activities that SAJA does. You
can support us by becoming a member - just $10 a year for students, $20
for journalists, $40 for everyone else. Lifetime membership is $250
for journalists, $400 for others. Sign up now:
http://www.saja.org/membership.html
Or you can make a donation of any amount:
http://www.ersvp.com/reply/event14375
SAJA Group, Inc. is a non-profit charitable organization (EIN: 55-0844632)
and is registered with the State of New York Charities Bureau
(Registration Number 20-70-28). Please send any funding questions to
saja@columbia.edu
-----------------------------------------------
Well that was it. Wishing you success in your applications. Don#t be disheartened if you don't get it this time. Try next year.
Regards,
Satis
I case you're a Blogging-journalst and are interested in getting a Fellowship you can apply at Saja.org. The fellowship is open to any projects about South Asia or the diaspora. You don't have to be South Asian to participate!
Questions to Prof. Sandeep Junnarkar, SAJA Awards Chair:
sandeep@journalism.cuny.edu
From SAJA, the South Asian Journalists Association, www.saja.org
SAJA Reporting Fellowships--$20,000 toward in-depth projects
http://saja.org/resources/srf/srf_2007.htm
As part of its mission to encourage in-depth coverage of South Asia and
the South Asian Diaspora, SAJA & SAJA Group Inc are pleased to announce a
call for submissions for its third Annual SAJA Reporting Fellowships
(SRF). Open to freelancers and staff journalists in any medium, the
fellowships are meant to encourage in-depth reporting projects by
providing grants to cover a portion of reporting expenses.
A total of upto $20,000 may be given out annually, divided among projects or a
single project at SAJA's discretion. Each fellowship award is typically between
$3,000-$7,000.
These Fellowships, which were launched in 2005 to ensure follow-up
reportage about the 2004 tsunami and its victims, were initially funded by
SAJA members, corporate donors and friends of SAJA. This year, SRF
received a major financial boost thanks to the support of the Mahadeva
Family Foundation, which will make an annual contribution of $20,000.
"The support of Kumar Mahadeva and Simi Ahuja, who have been part of the SAJA
community for more than a decade, is critical to SAJA's core mission of
improving the coverage of South Asia through the SAJA Reporting Fellowships and
similar programs," said Deepti Hajela, the group's president and an Associated
Press newswoman. "This is going to have a major impact on the kind of stories
that the Fellows do and how Americans learn about what's going on in South Asia
and the diaspora today."
The deadline for SRF proposals is Wednesday, Oct. 31, 2007.
More info at:
http://saja.org/resources/srf/srf_2007.htm
Questions to Prof. Sandeep Junnarkar, SAJA Awards Chair:
sandeep@journalism.cuny.edu
- Your friends at SAJA
[This is just an example of the kinds of activities that SAJA does. You
can support us by becoming a member - just $10 a year for students, $20
for journalists, $40 for everyone else. Lifetime membership is $250
for journalists, $400 for others. Sign up now:
http://www.saja.org/membership.html
Or you can make a donation of any amount:
http://www.ersvp.com/reply/event14375
SAJA Group, Inc. is a non-profit charitable organization (EIN: 55-0844632)
and is registered with the State of New York Charities Bureau
(Registration Number 20-70-28). Please send any funding questions to
saja@columbia.edu
-----------------------------------------------
Well that was it. Wishing you success in your applications. Don#t be disheartened if you don't get it this time. Try next year.
Regards,
Satis
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Aerospace:
CROSSING THE SKY TO THE FUTURE (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
If Boeing wants to establish itself and sell more jets in Europe and sell more of their products, it would be advised to use ecological compatible ideas in the manufacture of aerospace technology. It is a fact that the Airbus industry buys a lot of landing-gears, engines, electronics, parts for interiors from the USA. But there are handicaps too. The long distance to the USA from Europe is a problem for development engineers, and it is more convenient to work with fellow Europeans from the European Union to produce products and develop common strategies. In the case of Costenaro and Dolder we have an Italo-Dutch team working in Germany with German precision workers, or Fachleaute, as we say in Germany.
Samuel Piatti and Erik van den Dolder are partners of General Aerospace based in Eschbach, south-west Germany.
Costenaro gathered his experience working with a US company in Verese (Italy) as a sales manager. The private owner of the American company founded a new company. Mr.Piatti, who wears thin glasses with greying hair on the sides of his proud Roman head and drives a black BMW said, 'I was offered the opportunity to sell American aeronautical products. 'However, there was a litigation between the two companies, and as a result one of them decided to sell back to the other.'
The US holding offered Piatti to go and work in Germany's Bad Bellingen as a sales marketing executive for the whole of Europe, for they wanted to develop the aircraft market in Europe. He said, 'They asked me to help them expand into the European aviation market.'
Erik van den Dolder, a blond with a receeding forehead likes to attend the Airbus-meetings in his Harley Davidson, and speaks English and German with a soft Dutch accent, said that he was working with Samuel in the same US firm and both were unhappy about the US products because they were old, not innovative, despite the fact that there was a big European market out there, waiting to be conquered.
The attitude of the US firm seemed to be: what's good for the USA is also good for Europe. Which isn't at all. Europe is more technically advanced, seeks customised solutions, makes sophisticated products for their passengers and searches for new ideas. Says Costenaro, 'As an example, when you go to Boeing, they always sell the same products. In Europe the people ask for environment-friendly aircraft. In the US chemical industry they still use steel that is coated with cadmium, which is known to be hazardous to the environment.'
In this context Boing would be perhaps well-advised to seek environment-friendly solutions like its concurrence in Europe.
Take the Airbus A 380 with its four engines, with two elevators on board, is for instance, a new, sophisticated product. Boing also came up with its Dreamliner which has two engines. In the meantime, Airbus has developed another aircraft, which is a smaller Airbus-version to compete with Boeing's dreamliner. The competition goes on.
The Italo-Dutch duo took over where the US-aeronautical firm ceased to develop its markets with new ideas. General Aerospace wants to „cross the line to the future“ and has been delivering parts to: Pilatus (Switzerland), Airbus, Diamond (Canada) and its strength is in commercial aviation, space and defence. Armed with a quality approval from Airbus called EN9100, they produce the landing gear, electro hydraulic activator (EHA), landing 'shimmy dampers', Browning M2-M3 gun recoil buffers, FN-Herstal minimi gun recoil buffers, aluminium chrome-plated hand-railings for use in executive aircraft, electro-chronic windows, activaros for lavatory lids and seats, VIP bathrooms for private jets, hinges and dampers for overhead compartments for the convenience of air-travellers.
I asked Samuel Piatti what the strong points of General Aerospace were, and he replied, 'We create customised products. We have environmental conscious manufacturing processes and products and we provide fast development with quality. We also have lighter products with lower emission, which help to reduce air pollution.'
Eric van den Dolder had been working for fifteen years with the former Fokker Space, now Dutch Space. Dolder said, 'Fokker had very good products but they went bankrupt in 1990. In June 2000 I got a new job with a US company 'cos I was looking for a new challenge in commercial manufacturing. I just wasn't satisfied with the US-firm and founded a new one with Samual.'
'Now I have the most exciting job. I know what I'll do in the morning but I don't know what I'll do in the afternoon,' he said with a laugh. His partner Samuel added, ' Eric is an engineer with a lot of technical fantasy and I'm glad he likes to put technology into new products.'
Eric visits his family in Amsterdam once a month and said laconically: 'When you leave your roots, you'll know who your friends are, because only good friends visit you.'
Just two friends had visited him in Eschbach, South-West Germany, even though the Black Forest is so lovely.
I asked Samuel a last question regarding the buraucracy in Italy and Germany and he said: 'I find German buraucracy rather progressive, but you have to give more information about your business plans, growth rate of your firm and your previous background. The financial support from the German bank was good but you have to impress them with your arguments and credentials and manufacturing know-how. In Italy it's more on a personal and family business whereas and in Germany it's on a fair basis.'
Friday, October 5, 2007
On Doctor Faustus and Mephistopheles (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
(Christopher Marlowe in Faust (1564-1593)
On Doctor Faustus and Mephistopheles (Satis Shroff)
Dr. Johann Faust, the man who sold his soul to the Devil. A mythical figure? Certainly not. I went to the pretty town of Staufen via Bad Krözingen from Freiburg. From the distance you can see the ruins of a castle looming above the vineyards on a hill. In the town below is a Gasthaus called Zum Löwen (To the Lion). The tavern has a fresco on the wall by Prof. Fritz Geiges on the front wall depicting the Devil-- Mephistopheles—in the process of breaking the neck of a broken down Dr. Faustus. Below the fresco is a wonderful calligraphic scripture with the words:
In anno 1539 in Leuen-to-Staufen Dr Faustus, an astounding nigromantic, died miserably as a legend says, at the hands of the highest Devil named Mephistopheles, whom he called his brother-in-law as long as he lived, after the Pact which ended after 24 years, who broke his neck and sent his poor, eternally damned soul to Hell.
The only evidence regarding the death of Faust in Staufen can be found in two texts of the Zimmerschen Chronicle published in 1565. One source cites the end of the magician 'in the herrschaft Staufen im Preisgew.' The other source mentions ' in or far from Staufen, the town in Breigew.' 'Preisgew' and 'Breigew' relate to the district Breisgau. There is a lack of other substantial evidence.
Nevertheless, the local tradition and belief has it that it knows exactly where Faust's journey which began in the realm of knowledge and ended with his sojourn in Hell. The last moments of Doctor Faust's journey to Hell began in the tavern called To-the-Lion, on the third floor, in room number 5.You can spend a night in this room and be inspired to write a play or a sonnet on the Life of Doctor Faustus or perhaps a modern-day Faust who lives in a metropolis like NY, London or Berlin
Three houses away in the Late Gothic town hall of Staufen you can find the foot-prints of the Devil on one of the uppermost stairs. The Devil had come in the guise of a human to pick up Faust, and left the town of Staufen with an enormous leap.
You stars that reigned at my nativity
whose influence hath allotted death and hell
Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist,
Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud.
Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593)
There's another story (German: Sage) which was published by Constantin Geres in the magazine 'Schauinsland' in 1882. It connects the Faust-story with the Johannites:
It was late in the afternoon in the year 1541 when a farmer and his son were walking along the country road from Krözingen to Staufen. Suddenly, the weather changed for the worse and a gigantic bird with black wings flew over them. The appearance of the errie big bird scared them so much that they ran to a cross along the roadside and prayed till the scary bird flew away.
Thereafter, they set upon their journey to Staufen, where the farmer had to do some business at the tavern called The Lion. As they entered the tavern, they saw a doctor and another stranger. The stranger made a fool out of the farmer farmer and said that he'd been scared of a big black bird and had run in angst to a roadside cross and mumbled prayers to God.
The farmer found the words of the stranger extraordinary, for he and his son were the only ones who'd seen the big bird in the country road. And he knew that this stranger had flown over them in the form of the big black bird.
Shortly, the Doctor who was none other than the famous Faust, was taken by the Devil from room no. 5 of the tavern Zum Löwen.
In Christopher Marlowe's 'Doctor Faustus' Faust says:
Ugly hell, gape not! Come not Lucifer!
I'll burn my books!
Goethe's Faust was published in two parts in 1808 and 1832. Faust Part I is a dedicatory ode and laments the passage of time, the passing away of friends and shows Goethe's dedication to his work. There are countless interpretations of Faust and the play symbolically embraces the irony of human life, commenting on human, social and political phenomena. He also praises the fundamental human virtue of endeavour, striving and endless creative activity found among poets, writers, artists.
It was at Schiller's instigation that Goethe began in 1797 to work again at Faust II. Whereas Faust I contains Knittelverse, blank verse, hymnic passages and strophic songs, Faust II has various rhyming measures, ottava rima, terza rima and trimeters.
However, the best known early literary version of the Faust legend came from the Frankfurter printer Johann Spieß. In this popular German volksbuch (people's book) Doctor Faust dabbles from theology to sorcery, makes a pact with the Devil for a period of twenty-four years. He lives extravagantly and riotously. Ans when his time is up he's carried off to Hell. Dr. Faustus is active at the University of Wittenberg in the Volksbuch story. It is a book of stern moral intention, with a raised index-finger, and a dreadful warning to others who might undergo alliances with Satan. The Spieß'sches Faustbuch is the source of Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus (1589). Goethe on the other hand was obsessed by the subject of Faustus, almost his entire life. He enjoyed the puppet play called 'Puppenspiel von Dr. Faust' when he was a kid and also read the Faust Volksbuch.
Faust's Damnation (Fausts Verdammnis) an opera by Hector Berlioz is being stanged on October 20, 2007 at the Freiburger Theatre (Grosses Haus) and it is an attempt to use music to illustrate the complexities of Faust's soul. Ach, even if Faust's love and life were a fiasco, and he was damned to Hell, what survives is the work, the art and music.
There are English versions of the Faust legend by A.G.Latham (1902-5), Bayard Taylor (1908), L.MacNeice (1951) and Barker Fairley (1970) which deserve deserve mention, but I must admit I was chuckling with laughter, and I had tears in my eyes, when I read Rober Nye's Faust, told by a certain Kit Wagner, Faust's disciple. It was like reading P.G. Wodehouse in the days of alchemy and sorcery.
Here, yours truly would like to quote Faust as a motto for us all who're caught in life's vicissitudes like the famous Georgio Strehler did, when he acted in Goethe's Faust I and II at the Piccolo Teatro with a thousand voices and 12,000 verses in the year 1989:
„Ich fühle Mut, mich in die Welt zu wagen, mich in die Welt zu wagen,
Der Erde Weh, der Erde Glück zu tragen,
Mit Stürmen mich herumzuschlagen
Und in des Schiffbruchs Knirschen
nicht zu zagen.“
Friday, September 21, 2007
Buddhism in Nepal (Satis Shroff)
Der Buddhismus war ursprünglich eine philosophische Reformbewegung, eine von vielen, die aus der Krise der vedisch-brahmanischen Religion im 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. resultierten. Der historische Buddha wurde um 563 v. Chr. in Lumbini, im Süden des heutigen Nepal, nahe der Stadt Kapilavastu, als Prinz Siddhartha geboren. Nach seinem Familiennamen Shakya wurde er später auch Buddha Shakyamuni genannt.Die Mutter Maya war eine Prinzessin aus dem Geschlecht der Koliya von Devadaha. Ihre Schwester Mahapajapati übernahm die Pflege des Kindes, da Maya eine Woche nach der Geburt starb.
Im Mahayana Buddhismus tragen auch göttliche Wesen, die sich nie in menschlichen Leibern verkörpern, den Namen Buddha. Sie werden als Transzendente Buddhas bezeichnet, früher war der Ausdruck Dhyani-Buddhas üblich. Sie stellen die geistigen Mächte dar, die die Welt regieren, Vairocana in der Mitte, Aksobhya im Osten, Ratnasambhava im Süden, Amitabha im Westen, Amogasiddhi im Norden. In Nepal zieren die Bilder dieser fünf Buddhas den Türsturz jedes buddhistischen Hauses.
Im Alter von neunundzwanzig Jahren verließ der Buddha eines Nachts heimlich seine Familie und den elterlichen Fürstenhof und zog sieben Jahre als Wanderasket umher. Unter dem Bodhi-Baum (Pappelfeigenbaum) in Bodh Gaya erlangte er die Erleuchtung, die Einsicht in das Wesen des Daseins und seiner Überwindung. Später erhielt er zahlreiche Ehrentitel, vor allem Shakyamuni (der Weise der Shakyas), Jina (Sieger) und Tathagata (der Vollendete, wörtlich der ‚So-Gegangene‘.
Der Buddhismus sucht nach der letzten Ursache von Sünde und Leid und entdeckt, daß es kein Selbst oder Ich gibt. Der Buddha verkündete keine neue Religion, im Gegenteil, seine Lehre vertrat eine atheistische Weltauffassung.
Die Vorzeichen eines Lebensweges: Buddhas Lehre ist nichts mehr als die Vorzeichnung eines Lebensweges. Über andere Fragen wie Gott, Seele und die Welt. Auskunft zu geben, erklärte er für nutzlos. Seine Ansichten darüber lassen sich aber aus seiner Lehre erkennen. Sie fußt auf Samkhya-Gedanken. Der Buddha bekennt sich zu einem vollständigen Atheismus und Akosmismus, d.h. er leugnet jedes substantielle Sein, Gott, Seele und die Welt. Es gibt nur ein Werden und Vergehen ohne wirkliche Grundlage in einem anfang- und endlosen Kreislauf, dem Sansara.
Die Welt, der Gott und der Mensch sind eine Summe von physischen und psychischen Erscheinungen in ständigem Fluß, wobei die vorhergehende die nachfolgende bestimmt. Jedes Wesen gleicht einer Flamme, die scheinbar eine Substanz, in Wirklichkeit aber ein stetig voranschreitender Verbrennungsprozeß ist. In der Summe der Erscheinungen (Körperlichkeit, Empfindungen, Vorstellungen, Gestaltungen, Bewußtsein) die ein Mensch nennt, bewirkt das Karma des abgeschlossenen Lebens die Art des neuen Daseins, das ein tierisches, menschliches oder göttliches sein kann. Diese ruhelose Aufeinanderfolge ist das große Leid der Welt, das Aufhören des Kreislaufs ist die Ruhe des Nirvana1.
Die "vier edlen Wahrheiten:"Den Weg zum Nirvana will der Buddha, so wie er ihn selbst gegangen ist, auch seinen Jüngern lehren. Es ist ein Mittelweg zwischen dem Weg der weltlichen Menschen und dem Weg der sich kasteienden Asketen. So verkündet er, zum ersten Male in der Benares-Predigt, die "vier edlen Wahrheiten2". Es sind die folgenden:
1) Die Wahrheit vom Leid: Alles Dasein ist Leiden3.
2) Die Wahrheit von der Entstehung des Leidens: Aus der Unwissenheit als letztem Grund entstehen die Lebensäußerungen, als verhängnisvollste der Durst, d.h. das Haften am Dasein.
3) Die Wahrheit von der Aufhebung des Leidens: Das Aufhören der Lebensäußerungen, namentlich des Durstes, führt zum Ziel.
4) Die Wahrheit vom Weg der Aufhebung des Leidens: Auf dem edlen achtteiligen Pfad führt der Weg zur Erlösung: Rechte Einsicht, rechtes Wollen, rechtes Wort, rechte Tat, rechtes Leben, rechtes Streben, rechtes Gedenken, rechtes Sichversenken.
Unter den Lebensregeln finden sich Anleitungen zum sittlichen Handeln, die auf dem Wege voranhelfen; so wird vor allem das Wohlwollen empfohlen. Da aber auch Freude und Liebe und alle guten Handlungen Karma hinterlassen und zu einem neuen Dasein zwingen, sind sie auf den höheren Stufen zu meiden. Der Weise verharrt in völlig seelischer Untätigkeit. Der Weg Buddhas bedeutet ein Selbsterlösung ohne göttliche Hilfe, ohne selbstlose Menschenliebe, ohne Tugendübung. Nur die wenigen, die sich zur völligen Weltflucht entschließen, können diesen Weg gehen.
Der ursprüngliche Buddhismus ist deshalb wesentlich ein Mönchsreligion. Genaue Vorschriften, die zum Teil von Buddha herrühen mögen, regeln das Leben der Mönche und der Mönchsgemeinde (Sanga).
Die Heilswege und ihr Ziel: Der Buddhismus wurde durch innere Spaltungen geschwächt. Mit dem ersten nachchristlichen Jahrhundert begann in Nordindien eine Umwandlung, wodurch sich der Buddhismus klar in zwei Religionen spaltet: das Hinayana (Kleine Fahrzeug), das nur die wenigen Mönche zum Nirvana zu führen verspricht, und das Mahayana (Große Fahrzeug), das allen Menschen einen leichten Weg der Erlösung zeigen will. Die Entwicklung vollzieht sich unter dem Einfluß der alten Volksreligion und des Bhaktigedankens. Das Mahayana nähert sich der brahmanischen Religion und erleichterte die Aufsaugung durch dieselbe. Ein wichtiger Weg des Mahayana ist aber der des Vertrauens auf den Buddha und seine Lehre. Das Vertrauen (shraddha) auf den Buddha und seine Lehre fordert die ganze Person. So kann es von Tugenden und Selbstzucht begleitet, zur Erlösung führen. Das Erlösungsziel ist das Nirvana. Es wird in der Buddhaschaft erreicht, in der Erkenntnis des Illusionscharakters (Maya) des Sansara.
Im Mahayana ist es das Einswerden mit dem Absoluten, das einen andauernden Glückszustand mit sich bringt. Dies ist das Jenseits, und dieses Jenseits ist das Ziel aller derer, die im großen Fahrzeug zur Erlösung streben. Zum Jenseits des Nirvana führen alle "Fahrzeuge" im Buddhismus, zu einer Erlösung, über deren Beschaffenheit kein Wort möglich ist. Mit der Erlösung aber hat die Lehre ihr Ende.
Der freiwillige Verzicht auf Erlösung:
Die Bodhisattvas: In der neuen religiösen Richtung tritt Buddha als milder Gott vor uns. Man erhebt ihn zu einem einzigartigen göttlichen Wesen, dem Urbuddha, von dem ungezählte Ausstrahlungen erfolgen. Das sind die Dhyanabuddhas in der oberen Welt, sodann die Bodhisattvas, die Vollendeten, die auf das Nirvana verzichten, um den Menschen zu helfen, endlich die irdischen Buddhas, deren letzter Sakyamuni war. Der Grund hiervon ist das "Große Mitleid", das alle Bodhisattvas für die Wesen empfinden und das sie zur Tätigkeit für die Wesen treibt. Sie versuchen, die Leiden der Sansara auf sich zu ziehen, und umgekehrt ist es ihnen möglich, das durch ihre Verdienste gesammelte Karma auf andere zu übertragen. So sind die Bodhisattvas deutlicher Ausdruck für die Möglichkeit der Fremderlösung.
Der große Dhyanabuddha im gegenwärtigen Zeitalter ist Amitabha, der im Paradies des Westens thronende allbarmherzige Erlösergott, der alle, die ihn anrufen, selig macht. Der mächtige Bodhisattva der Gegenwart ist Avalokiteshvara4, der in seiner Hilfsbereitschaft auch vor Sünde und Höllenqual nicht zurückschreckt. Dazu finden die hinduistischen Götter Aufnahme in den Buddhismus.
Erzwungene Kastensystem in Nepal: Unter König Jayastathi Malla (1382-1395) wurden die Buddhisten unter Berufung auf die von Sankaracharya durchgeführten Maßnahmen, in ein rigoroses, neu geschaffenes Kastensystem eingegliedert. Außerdem wurde die Verwaltung und Jurisdiktion gestrafft. Man unterstellte, daß die unverheirateten Mönche ursprünglich aus der Bahun- (Brahmanen) oder Chettri- (Kshatriya) Kaste gekommen waren und nachdem sie gezwungen worden waren zur Heirat und Fortzupflanzung, sollten sie diesen Kasten weiter angehören. Zuunterst in dem hinduistischen Kastengefüge in Nepal stehen die unberührbaren Kasten, unter anderem die Kami (Schmiede), die Sarki (Schuster) und die Damai, die zwei Beschäftigungen ausüben: Sie sind Schneider und Musikanten. Die frühe Geschichte Nepals läßt Stämme, aber keine rigorose Kastenordnung erkennen.
Die Erlösung als das Ende des Strebens: Im Buddhismus redet man nicht nur von Wissen, das die Kausalität des Entstehens hebt sondern auch vom Nichtwissen, das die Bildung karmagestaltender Triebkräfte nach sich zieht. Die Triebkräfte sind die Urheber allen Strebens; da sie vom Nichtwissen freigesetzt wurden, bilden sie ein Bewußtsein aus, das sich dann im Einzelnen niederläßt. So kommt eine Individualität zustande, die nicht mehr ein leeres Bewußtsein trägt, sondern ein durch Eindrücke, Empfindungen, Bedürfnisse, Gier bzw. Streben angefülltes Organ.
Als Folge des Strebens tritt mit dem Lebenshang das karmische werden. Es realisiert sich als Wiedergeburt, und damit als Wiedereintritt in den Sansara, ins Dasein, ins Leid5. Das Streben ist das, was den Sansara bewegt und die Erlösung verhindert. Das Erlösungsstreben findet man auch im Hinduismus; hier wird das Streben selbst als Ursache des Leides erkannt. Das Streben nach guten Taten bewirkt eine bessere Wiedergeburt, nicht aber die Erlösung. Und Streben muß sich immer auf die Illusion des Ich richten, also auf das Nichtwissen. Läßt man diese Illusion als Wissender fallen, so erscheint die gesamte Welt des Samsara als eine Illusion. Im Durchschauen dieser Illusion (Maya) besteht die Erlösung, die in der völligen Aufgabe allen Strebens und der vollkommenen Ruhe des Geistes erreicht wird. Mit dem Verlöschen allen Strebens ist das Samsara überwunden.
Der Tod im Buddhismus: In den Himalayaregionen Nepals, wo die Bevölkerung überwiegend buddhistisch sind, findet man Manisteine und Chortens. Die Toten werden begraben und Chortens (Pukangs) als Denkmäler errichtet. Wenn ein Lama stirbt, dann muß ein anderer Lama das Feuerholz bei der Verbrennungszeremonie anzünden. Im Gegensatz zu dem hinduistischen Todesritual darf der Sohn des Verstorbenen die Todesreste seiner Eltern nicht anzünden.
Einer der wichtigsten Texte des tibetischen Buddhismus ist das Totenbuch "Bardo Thodol"6. Trotz seines Namens und der Tatsache, daß dieses Buch am Bett der Sterbenden von den Mönchen vorgelesen wird, ist es ein Buch des Lebens. Bardo heißt "Zwischenraum" (‘bar’ bedeutet zwischen, und ‘do’ heißt Insel ). Es ist nicht nur das Intervall des nachtodlichen Schwebezustandes, sondern vielmehr der Schwebezustand in der Situation des Lebens. Die Bardo-Erfahrung ist Teil unserer grundlegenden psychologischen Struktur. Dieses Buch erhält nicht nur eine Botschaft für jene, die bald sterben oder bereits gestorben sind, sondern auch eine Botschaft für jene, die bereits geboren sind.
Geburt und Tod widerfahren jedermann andauernd, genau in diesem Augenblick. Es besteht ein Konflikt zwischen dem Körper und dem Bewußtsein, und es gibt die dauernde Erfahrung von Tod und Geburt. Die Buddhisten in Nepal betrachten den Tod nicht als besonders unangenehme oder schwierige Situation. Der sterbende Mensch hat Anteil an seiner eigenen Festigkeit. Wenn man gefaßt ist, dann wird die Person im Bardo-Zustand automatisch davon angezogen. Mit anderen Worten: man sollte den sterbenden Menschen eine sehr geistes-gegenwärtige Situation präsentieren. Man sollte auf ihn eingehen, sich füreinander gegenseitig öffnen und das Zusammentreffen von zwei Seelen entwickeln.
Die Botschaft des Totenbuches ist folgende: Die Verwirrungen des Lebens werden durch die dualistische Sicht des Menschen verursacht. Indem er das Bardo Thodol aufmerksam liest oder hört, wird der Mensch befreit und in einem nicht-dualistischen Zustand versetzt, in dem sich die Verwirrungen in Weisheit umwandeln.
Im Mahayana Buddhismus gibt es die Lehre eines höchsten Gottes bzw. eines Ur-Prinzips, des Adi Buddha. Aus diesem entspringen die fünf Dhyani Buddhas, die als Verkörperung der fünf ursprünglichen Elemente, aus denen der Kosmos besteht, angesehen wurden. In der Regel werden die einzelnen Gottheiten mit der Miniaturfigur ihres jeweiligen Dhyani Buddha, aus dem sie emanierten, im Kopfschmuck gezeigt. Dabei werden die Bodhisattvas als Söhne der jeweiligen Dhyani Buddhas mit ihrem Buddha-Shaktis angesehen.
Obwohl die Erlösungswege von Hinduismus und Buddhismus verschieden sind, so gleichen sich die zwei Religionen in der Annahme des Sansara, die die Einmaligkeit des Lebens auf der Erde ablehnt und einen Kreislauf von Wiederbeburten setzt. Die ausgleichende Gerechtigkeit vollzieht sich selbst in der Qualität der Wiedergeburten. Im Christentum wird mit der Überzeugung der Einzigkeit des menschlichen Lebens auch die eines personalen, allmächtigen Gottes verbunden.
Während es für den Hindu keine einzige, fest umrissene, alleinseligmachende Wahrheit gibt, ist die Zuflucht zur Lehre für den Buddhisten unerlässlich.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
LONDON WHEN IT DRIZZLES (Satis Shroff)
We took the underground from the Embankment (green route) to White Chapel in London's East End, previously a Cockney area, now turned Bengali. London's East End looked dark, dilapidated, gloomy, and there were hundreds of Asian shops and restaurants in the side streets.
In one such Bengali restaurant hung a pair of enlarged photographs of a team of wrestlers from West Pakistan in decent European clothes. The few Asian customers were reading Urdu newspapers and discussing the role fo the US troops in Iraq.. Some seemed to be for, and some against it, as I could gather from snippets of conversation in Urdu. On the whole they looked like a shabby, unhappy, frustrated, miserable and rootless lot. The flair and smartness that you see among the established West End Asians in London's tube or taxis was totally missing. It was like a ghetto and the people didn’t seem integrated with their white fellow-citizens, and it reminded me of the Turks in Mannheim and Berlin’s Kreuzberg.
They created the impression that they still clung to their countries of origin and felt neglected and rejected by mainstream-England. Even though the East End looked gloomy and sad, like the slums of Calcutta under the Howrah Bridge, there were nevertheless simple-minded Asians living there, eking out an existence with a British address, despite the poverty and hopelessness, as anywhere in their own distant homelands. After all they regarded it as a sort of privilege to be in ‘Lundun,’ as people from the Indian Subcontinent are wont to do.
At the White Chapel Underground entrance, a huddled, pitiable soul was lying on the filthy floor. An Asian, probably a Tamil from India or Sri Lanka judging from his ethnic features, was controlling the tickets from a kiosk, oblivious of the tragic human heap. Perhaps he'd seen too many such helpless creatures in his own country in his lifetime to bother about a white social case. The British government had its social and street workers, and Rowling of Harry Potter fame was one of 'em once upon a time, and there were so-called friendly Bobbies everywhere, probably more in the West than in the East End of London. The East End: that was the Bronx. And outside, a white helicopter was bringing in the British casualties from Irak to London Hospital's rooftop landing-pad.
After a long time in Germany, it was interesting to discover the heavy South Asian character of East End. The Bengali sari shops and mannequins, the smell of puris, chapatis, sambosas and the appetising smell of masalas overwhelming you, as you walked along the narrow, dimly lit streets. It was like revisiting India. It was like being in Calcutta or in Mumbai's Sion, Koliwada.
I felt a bit weary and lethargic for it had been a long day, doing the sights of London. I talked with Claudia about the East End because she'd already been to Bombay twice and also to Canada, Australia and a good many cities in Europe.
"I wouldn't walk these streets alone,"she said with a serious face. "It looks so dark and foreboding. I get the creeps."
I had to ask myself whether the Asians from the British Commonwealth were just as insecure, unhappy, frustrated and without much rights as the foreigners in other European Commonwealth countries, perhaps due to their origins and complexions, and not their acquired British passports.
We had a rendezvous at Madame Tussaud's at the Marylebone Road with the famous and the infamous. There were criminals and heroes to be seen in wax. The entire British Commonwealth leaders were represented: Africans to the right, Indira, Jinnah and Mahatma Gandhi to the left, and Chancellor Kohl and other European dignitaries in the middle of the room. The British Royal Family was almost real, though Lady Diana was a disappointment. But Princess Sarah, Timothy Dalton (007), Grace Jones were admirably done. The wax figures did thrill, shock and amuse you, especially the Chamber of Horrors in the basement. Next door, the London Planetarium had daily star shows every 40 minutes.
The next morning we went to Westminster from Paddington Station with the underground. A one-way ticket costs 80 pence for adults. It had become cold and misty by the time We reached West Minster Abbey, the scene of coronations of Kings and Queens of England since 1066 and 'nearly as many deaths', royal weddings and countless state occasions. Princess Fergie and Prince Andrew were married here. It is also the final resting place of countless monarchs, statesmen, poets and heroes. The Abbey, however, doesn't seem to receive money from the state, but the collections and donations must be substantial judging from the opulence and grandeur of the Abbey.
At the Westminster Abbey, England's dead statesmen and heroes were glorified, for you could see written and sculptured evidence. Right near the entrance gate were the buried remains of a dead unknown soldier from a long forgotten war. England's Standard and other regimental flags hung in one corner of the Abbey, near the entrance in a fenced-in room.
I couldn't help thinking about the Hanuman Dhoka in Kathmandu, which had also been the scene of King Birendra's coronation in 1974, and the courtyard is a place of animal sacrifice during the Dasain festival in Nepal. The Royal Gurkhas behead a great number of Asiatic buffaloes and goats at an official ritual ceremony. And during the Kot massacre in 1846 Junga Bahadur Rana, the man who created the Rana dynasty in Nepal, and called himself the Maharaja of Nepal, eliminated the Nepalese aristocracy and paved the way for the overtake of power in the Himalayan Kingdom. The Shah dynasty was almost supposedly wiped out by Prince Dipendra, the crown prince. And now the Maoists and the Congress party have cut off the King Gyanendra’s power, who and his family had survived the massacre for they were conspicuously absent on that fateful day at the Narayanhiti Palace.
Was there even a single memorial for the Gurkhas who were sent to countless wars against Tibet, India, Burma, Vietnam, Congo, Malaysia, Borneo, Pakistan, China and the Falklands? I hadn't seen any in Nepal or in India. There's only a Gurkha Museum at Winchester, co-located with several other British regimental museums registered under a United Kingdom Charity No.272426 to commemorate and record the services of the Gurkhas since 1815.
Alone in the two World Wars Nepal sent 200,000 Gurkha soldiers to fight for England's glory and 45,000 died in France, Gallipoli, Suez and Mesopotamia in addition to Burma, Singapore, Italy and North Africa. The Ministry of Defence (MoD) never seems to be tired to insist that the Gurkhas are an integral part of the British Army, but when it comes to human rights, pay-scales and stay-permits for Gurkhas, the MoD uses another yardstick. The excuse is that Britain’s Gurkhas are paid a pension so that they are obliged to live in Nepal. According to MoD and the Home Ministry, a Gurkha has no attachment to the British Isles. I have the impression that the Gurkhas are being treated like the asylum-seekers, and are only tolerated as long they fight for Britain’s glory, but as soon as they reach a certain age, they are obliged to return to Nepal, and not stay in Britain, the country of their choice. The British government and the National Health Service does not want old Gurkhas when they become gerontological cases, for that would cost the government and the tax-payer more money.
The Gurkhas and their children are denied a British education, and are thus not allowed to be integrated through better qualifications in the British society. The asylum-seekers who come from Britain’s former colonies are given equal rights when their papers are recognised by the Home Ministry. The Gurkhas are recognised and know for their reputation and have been publicly praised by British Generals and Royals, but when it comes to money matters and human rights, others members of the Commonwealth are more equal than the Gurkhas. It’s a sad story, which has happened again and again for the last two centuries, for that’s how long the Gurkhas have sworn their allegiance to Britian and the Queen, from the times of Queen Victoria till Queen Elisabeth II. If I were a British citizen, I’d feel very much ashamed of the treatment meted out towards the Gurkhas by the various British governments and Monarchs. The Gurkha-problem has been too long tolerated and ignored in the past.
Suddenly the ether crackled and a bearded priest beckoned the Abbey visitors to stay where we were, be silent and pray with him for the dead, injured and anxious souls and relatives and ended with: "Our Father who art in Heaven..." A touching gesture, and a prayer that had been with me since my Kindergarten and school days. The bombings in Iraq was very much with them in their thoughts, if not in the media, which preferred to show a clean, remote, sterile war. A war without its horrors and sufferings. It was a case of tampered sterility and censorship. This was the first gesture in public in London, otherwise life seemed to be going on, as though everything was normal. Business as usual.
I remember our female London guide saying: "In London we don't take all these terrorist actions seriously. The IRA has been active also in the past, and we've learnt to live with it and ignore it."What a courageous attitude I thought, the British stiff-upper lip, and never to be disheartened when the odds are against you. Perhaps that's a lesson the Gurkhas have learned from the British, and naturally, never to complain since 200 years. To do or die and theirs (Gurkhas) is not to reason why.
Just before we reached the Buckingham Palace, we saw the scarlet uniformed Horse Guards going past and managed to take some photographs. At the Buckingham Palace we saw the Foot Guards in their grey overcoats marching hither and thither like robots. I thought about my English professor named Bruce Dobler from the University of Iowa, who had described a Gurkha armed with his short automatic gun and a razor sharp curved khukri. The professor had said that his blood had chilled when he looked at the Gurkha. He said, ‘I wouldn’t have liked to meet the fellow in a dark alley. We cracked jokes about the regular English Royal Guard with those tall, woolly hats and took photographs with them, but had respect for the Gurkha. He looked sinister and made one scared.’
At another occasion in Freiburg where I was invited to hold a Nepal transparency show, there happened to be a pair of music-students from Argentina and we were awfully curious to know Nepal and its Gurkhas because of the Falkland War in 1982. In this war the British had sent their elite troops: the First Battalion of the Duke of Edinburgh’s Own Gurkha Rifles and the Scots Guards and Welsch Guards, all under the command of Brigadier M.J.A. Wilson. The Argentinian press had compared the British Gurkhas as a cross between dwarfs and mountain goats and the Argentinian soldiers were apprehensive about the Gurkhas and were full of misconceptions. I had to clear the misconceptions about the Gurkhas and the Nepalese in the course of the evening.
It started drizzling and we didn't feel like waiting for the Changing of the Guards in the rain, so we made for the small Guards Museum. I had hoped to see the Gurkhas at least on postcards. Nothing of the sort. So we went to the nearby underground station and made for Harrods for it was nearing tea-time.
On the way, I thought how delightful it was: London when it drizzled (and not sizzled). Harrods in the Brompton Road lived up to its name of being the world's most famous and prestigious department store, for fashions, furniture, home-wares. The gastronomic section was well-stocked with all the food you could imagine. How could you resist doing a bit of shopping to suit your purse?
After that we went past the Duck Island, an island teeming with ducks, swans, quails, squirrels and pigeons. A member of a Swedish trio, who were walking ahead of them, approached a squirrel with a stick. The small squirrel was wary at first, lay low and then thrust forward. The Viking was alarmed and dropped his stick, and his two colleagues burst into laughter.
I thought we should brush up their our knowledge of geography and decided to take a boat to Greenwich. The boat was rather empty, except for a Muslim family, that you could tell from the jewellery and salwar kameez of the women and their dark, silken complexions.
There was a cold wind, but we felt we had to brave it by sitting on the deck and watch the muddy waters of the Thames. The old dilapidated warfs were a contrast to the flashy and chic West End, but were interspersed with modern buildings with expensive looking apartments, with the blessing of Margret Thatcher during her hey-days.
The sun didn't shine. The houses or what remained of them on both banks of the Thames evoked a depressing, chilly atmosphere. There were water-buses and ferries plying alongside. We were greeted in Greenwich pier by the burnt remains of the 'Cutty Sark', a sailing clipper built in 1860. There was a teacher and a parent instructing a bunch of small school-kids to draw the 'Cutty Sark' on bits of paper and the lady explained to her charges , "Cutty Sark was a witch and she's depicted in front of the ship." One had to imagine it.
‘Some witch’ said Claudia.
I exclaimed sheepishly ‘Some boobs!’
I remembered the poem "Tam O' Shanter" by Robert Burns from her schooldays in the Himalayas, which means 'short shirt', in which the name Cutty Sark features. The poem has a moral for people who drink and ride home late. She'd found the poem rather amusing and down to earth in comparison to Byron, Goldsmith and Wordsworth. It had made them laugh, because the local Nepalese people were fond of that high percentage alcoholic raksi. You could vividly imagine old Tam, drunk as he was, riding like the wind with the devil behind him, and his wife reprimanding him.
The walk from the pier to Greenwich Observatory was pleasant due to the green surroundings, despite the fact that it was raining. It was a short sharp climb. Greenwich Observatory was founded in 1695 and the zero meridian passes through it. GMT is the official time in the British Isles and the basis for International Time Zone System. And each time zone is 15 degrees or an hour across. Flamstead's Observatory dated back to 1675. There was a 5 foot Mural Quadrant by Adam Sharp built about 1710 on display. Flamsted (of star-catalogue fame) used his mural arc to find the zenith distance and time of transit over the meridian of the star called Gamma vergnis in 1698. Bradley's zenith sector dating 1727 was mentioned along with huge collinating telescopes.
It was interesting to learn that Edmond Halley (1656-1742) the Second Astronomer Royal (1720-1742) was appointed to succeed John Flamstead in 1720. There was a transit-clock by William Hardy of London (1811) which tells sideral time (time by the stars).
Claudia and I took photographs with our legs apart over the Greenwich Meridian, as all visitors are wont to do, before it got too dark, and decided to walk through the tunnel that runs below the Thames. It was a strange feeling and rather exciting,to think that you had the Thames flowing above you.
Claudia asked with a concerned expression on her face: "What 'll we do when the water from the Thames starts pouring in?"
A ghastly thought that made us walk faster. There were very few commuters walking past hurriedly. A local bloke, probably a Cockney, with a bicycle walked by. He had a flat-tyre, but his spirit was high for he was humming a tune.
At the other end of the tunnel We saw a notice which read: Docklands Light Railway opened by HM Queen, 30 July 1987. The train reminded me of the Transit-affair from Gattwick to the Airport Terminal. We read another poster: Island Gardens:modern train to keep London clean.
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