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Some things change how you look at the world.They just do.
And after such an occurrence happens, you can never see things in quite the same light again. For me, just such an occasion was the arrival of a New National Geographic magazine a few years ago. One sentence in particular from the article stopped me cold in my tracks.
The Janjaweed may toss your kids into vats of boiling water as they had done to children in another village, and the Sudanese Air Force may bomb your wretched fields as they had before, killing five of your family members.
I could not stop myself. I instantly thought of the utter helplessness of a small child, screaming uncontrollably as they hit the boiling water and I could not get this tragically poignant, and deeply disturbing image out of my mind. No matter how hard I tried. The vision was reminiscent of a horror film. Yet I knew this was not words or images of fantasy merely cast upon a silver screen. It is,tragically, all too real.
At this point I had never seen a need to Question the reporting of the magazine. I has vaguely aware that the conflict was ongoing, and historical in nature. But, for what ever reason, it had never really been clearly focused into my consciousness.That mental image changed that,and it changed me. And how I look at life. I soon learned to question many things that beforehand I took for granted.
As I read through the article, I had to find the answer, "what drives a man" to toss a child into boiling water. There were hints in the article, but that's all they were. Some things, I can only assume, can not be printed. (I had to know why !)
I went back to the section that first caught my eye. I found, what I thought were troubling phrasings, and out of place comments in that section, as well as other parts of the article.
Women have been singled out for maximum violence in Darfur.Mass rapes by the janjaweed are systematic and well documented. As part of a Sudanese campaign of ethnic cleansing, women have been burned alive, shot, bayoneted, and dumped down wells.
what follows, in my mind, does not fit well, or as it logically should.
These stories, too, would be recorded in their fields. Lying in the hut, I imagined flying low over the savannas of Darfur and reading the women’s lives inscribed in plots of millet, peanuts, and sorghum. (See that row of melons ending abruptly at midfield? A Fur grandmother dropped her seed bucket and ran at the sound of approaching hoof beats.)
Here, instead of further informing the reader (journalism) as to the (Who,What, where ,and why) of the murder,rape and ethnic cleanings, the writer slips quickly into quasi-surrealist, personal delusion.( a swift visual,as well as topical change) Agriculture ?that follows bayoneted women, some shot, some burned alive. (nice slide of hand)
I'm sure that the humans living in, or in many cases, dieing there.Wish as well, to be, as an airplane, flying over and high above the shattered pieces of a ever quickening and fading earthly existence. They however, are not capable of an escape.As you Paul Salopek, are capable of doing, when ever you wish to. They often times remain present, well past even death,as only the sun-bleached bones of human corpses, littering the once fertile and productive fields of their African ancestors.
In Towé the women were Zaghawasemi nomads. The laughing one was named Fatim Yousif Zaite. She wasn’t crazy.
No, not crazy, surviving an ongoing genocide. That may in fact put people off their stride. (at least where I'm from)
She was 40, with the burning, clairvoyant gaze of the starving, and a smile that transmitted the innocence of her heart.
or the gaze of a woman struggling to comprehend the actions of her fellow man, and the lack of humanity displayed. ( the thousand yard stare, is in common in soldiers, and mothers who have seen their children slughtered before their very eyes)
She brought me gourds of asida, a yellow lentil paste she could hardly afford to share. Once, while untied to eat, I grabbed both her dusty hands in mine. She sprang back in fear.But I only wanted to thank you, Fatim.
You will always be with me.The Janjaweed may toss your kids into vats of boiling water as they had done to children in another village, and the Sudanese Air Force may bomb your wretched fields as they had before, killing five of your family members. But for three days in Darfur you were my mother.
I would tell "truthfully", and with great candor, the story of these people, were it, My Mother."Dude"
But instead, we find a Pulitzer prize winner, projecting an agenda. As opposed to accurately reporting on the world's largest continuing genocide.(I do not claim knowledge of what his agenda is, I am only pointing out the clear presence of an agenda in the article.)
With a little investigation on my own. I find this an attempt to muddy the waters,to confuse the idle reader, who wont dig deeper, who has no background in the conflict, to base an independently arrived at opinion on.
The second part of my new found revulsion, of the modern practice known as reporting, occurred here in the Article.
I think it is here as well , where the scope of an agenda, starts to become clear.
Gaga refugee camp, Chad
My journey began among refugees in eastern Chad. This is where I met George Bush’s father.
As most any old progressive liberal will be more than willing to tell you, George Bush is a racist, Islamophobic, hate monger. Why on G * d's green earth would an African Muslim, name his child George Bush.I asked myself that very question as well.
Bush tyrannized his family’s small plot of sand.
Just as president Bush was known as the man who tyrannized America, the evil "little Bush" had tyrannized his family, who are victims of a genocide. You should hate the little two year old boy ?
I ask myself immediately, why is this harshly "descriptive" word used in this context. This little kid is a victim. Surely if there is a "entity" guilty off having "tyrannized" these poor, destitute humans, it would be the Janjaweed, or the "Islamic" government of the Sudan.Who is in control of the murderous militia . Not a Two year old child.
(victim and oppressor, it is so hard to tell them apart, in the modern day and age,isn't ?)
He threw his mother’s battered dishes to the ground, pulled on visitors’ noses, and scampered away giggling. He got away with this because he was an only son.
A two year old boy who is mischievous, at best, is used as nothing more than a prop here. He does not, seem to me (as described),to be a living child,who may survive long in this life. He is just (an object to be used) in a way for the very skilled writer, to divert the attention of your eye. Much in the manner of a skilled magician.
My brain is starting to whisper to me, something is just not right with this narrative. What is it ?
His elder sister, age four, despised him. Bush was fat-cheeked and two.
Is this a capitalist, two year old African child, Growing fat off the suffering of those he oppresses with great "tyranny" ?
How much time did this Pulitzer prize winner spend with this family in the refugee camp to gain the certain knowledge, or enough insight, to publish the definitive conclusion, that he is despised by his sister ?
If he is in fact "DESPISED" by a four year old sibling, why is it relevant to this atrocity being inflicted on this family, in a "war zone" ?
We first are introduced to a two year old African child in a refugee camp,and the words carefuly chosen and used to describe the child, are that he "tyrannized" people and was "despised" by some ?
lastly we get informed, that this little child in a refugee camp, is fat-cheeked. Can anyone else see a pattern developing.
Other than the name, can it be explained why a two year old child, who is in fact,most probably starving to death,is demonized in such a manner.
Should a starving child in an African refugee camp, be demonized by a white American Pulitzer prize winner. For any reason whatsoever, under the sun ?
He is a starving child in Africa for G*d's sake, with an unfortunate name, and nothing more substantial revealed, separating him from the other unfortunate starving children in the camp.
In the opening description of the Gaga refugee camp,or in the opening narrative presented if you will, an award winning "white" writer, is describing a "black" Child ( an innocent victim of a genocide), as Tyrannical, despised and fat cheeked. (is everybody, Ok, with that approach ?)
Is he attempting to develop any sympathy in the reader by introducing the two year old victim of a genocide in this manner ?
If he is not, what was was his agenda. I see this as a legitimate question.
“Boosh!” the refugees cooed. “Boosh-ka!” He was clearly a great camp favorite.
"George Bush" is a favorite in a Muslim refugee camp?
Why would the other refugees "like" this clearly, and earlier described, Evil little bastard.
a Pulitzer prize winning journalist, has just looked into the little African refugee child's soul, and found it wanting in humanity ?
Powerful writers can emotionally affect the reader. He just attempted this. Can you see it ? Do you care ?
This was in the Gaga settlement, where more than 7,000 Darfuris lived and died under UN canvas.“Only George Bush can stop the Arabs in our land,” said Bush’s papa, Ahmed Juma Abakar. He corralled the boy in his lap.
“When he grows up, he will help kill them.”
The only way that this man (poorly educated, as he may be),is perhaps capable of expressing his understanding of an end to this human tragedy.That he is personally, and presently suffering, is an end to the people, actively engaged in causing his suffering ( I personally can understand,if not agree,with the statement)
should this man of simple African roots,struggling to survive, be expected to hold a New York sophisticates, cosmopolitan opinion, on conflict resolution, in line with recorded United Nations norms, and protocols ?
The idea that the victim, must at all times show civilized restraint so as not to be judged morally equivalent with the perpetrator.Is in fact claiming people should help in the self- suicide, of the oppressed populous. ( a fundamental law of nature) " for each action, there is an equal and opposite reaction". Often forgotten in the modern commentary, is that it carries weight, in inner human relations as well as physics.
(adding this quote, is in my opinion an attempt at moral equivalence )suggesting that the people undergoing a genocide want to kill the people, committing the genocide ? in the same manner, as the ones committing the true, and real genocide.
Could this possibly be used to suggest the concept, that it is now morally acceptable if the reader, were to ,"Pretty Please" draw the conclusion, that there is no right, or wrong ?
No real killers, no well defined victim, only different shades of gray.
REALLY ?
see photos in article, and see if you can separate the victim from the killers,imagine that, it's not that hard if you try.
Multiple lines of identity were braided through Abakar. He was a coffee-colored African with a puff of white hair on his chin. He was a Masalit, a member of one of the African farming tribes driven out of Darfur at gunpoint by the janjaweed, the Arab nomads armed by the Arab-dominated government of Sudan. He detested Arabs. Yet he himself spoke Arabic. He also served sugary tea in shot glasses like an Arab, wore a white Arabic robe, and prayed five times a day toward Mecca. I, too, find this puzzling.
Here, I just cant take it any longer. "I, too, find this entire article puzzling."
So I take over, in a feeble attempt to show compassion and sympathy to the victims of this human tragedy and at the same time, tell the same story, using the words and descriptions of situations, used in the original article of a Pulitzer prize winner. I'm a roofer/ stone mason, and I add my own sources with links in support of my findings .
But I due wish to attempt to draw you into this world of "little George Bush", if only for a moment ,if you'll let me. To feel the people and events. I start here in the article with my rewrite. If you are stuck in Africa, with not enough food and others trying to kill you, who do you want to tell your story to the world. Me or a Pulitzer prize winner ? please read both accounts first, and be honest.
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Gaga refugee camp, Chad
This journey began on a road in Eastern Chad. Along the way I heard of a proud and resilient people. This is where I'm told I will meet George Bush's father. Soon upon entering the camp I'm pointed to a mischievous, and healthy looking boy I judged to be about two. As he scampered through the sand, cries of "Boosh" "Boosh" "Boosh-Ka" followed, as I did myself, he was clearly a great camp favorite. This is the Gaga settlement where 7000 men, woman and children live or die under a harsh African equatorial sun,shaded only by U.N. canvas.
Ahmed reached out, embracing his son, pulling him to his lap. He said 'Boosh George Bush" I, too, find this puzzling. He smiled, holding his son in his arms, offering what little security he could in an environment measured in days and weeks, and sometimes only in your ability to find food for you and your family to eat. Ahmed Juma Abkar is a man, I feel privileged,and lucky to meet. Ahmed is a dark skinned African "Muslim ' and a HUMAN BEING as well.
He is also a "Masalit"descended from one the original farming tribes who inhabited this part of Africa. Now being driven out of Darfur,their ancestral home lands,at gun point, by the Janjaweed'
Arab nomads armed by the Iranian influenced, Arab dominated, government of Sudan. In December 1991 Iranian President Rafsanjai paid an official visit to the Sudan. He agreed to pay 300 million dollars to China for weapons to be delivered, directly to the Sudan this was the price paid to allow a contingent of two thousand Iranian revolutionary guards entrance joining 6,000 'Qods force's members headquartered in the Shambat and Koravi regions.
Now in Darfur the violence is infamous, caused by the political-ideological retraining of the Arab Sundanese These two rivals, both Muslim had evolved a complex understanding of how to live together. But a ten pound machine, with eleven moving parts, has dropped the value of a human life to seven cents. The price of the bullets, that go in to the Kalashnikovs, only to emerge latter, slightly damp after passing through the body's of the freshly dead.
--Young men who once sang songs to their favorite cows now serenaded their guns "Your Kalashwill save your life \ without a Kalash your burnt trash"
But I saw no cows. The janjaweed in 1996 on the pretext of rebellion, came calling using aircraft and armored vehicles they managed to eradicate seven Masalit villages, taking 4,000 head of cattle as a prize in a single day.killing, raping and burning, all of the native Masalits, that they found along the way.
more from the article
"I asked when Arabs and Africans would be brothers again. Abakar looked at me with genuine incredulity. He then tuned his transistor radio to the BBC. The Israelis were bombing Lebanon. Allah-u akbar! the old Muslim tribesman said, cheering on the Israel Defense Forces. He raised George Bushs chubby little arms in triumph."
Ahmed seemed to hate the northern Arabs claiming 'only George Bush can save our land', his fondest wish was to have little "Boosh-ka" live long enough to 'kill but one Janjaweed'.
I asked Ahemed, when Arabs and Africans will again live as brothers. He said nothing only stared at me "as if I were a fool or simpleton" He then tuned his transistor radio to the BBC. the Israelis were bombing Lebanon . "Allah-u Akbar" The old Muslim tribesman said, cheering on the Israel Defense Forces. I sat, stunned, in silance.( contemplating the reasons behind the clear Israeli, Zionist support) After taking a few minutes to regain my composure. I asked Ahmed Juma, what caused this genocide ? He said we are now 'the other' and in their practice and understanding of Islam, they may kill, rape, and enslaved us, and in your understanding of Islam, I inquired.
He said they may not
Later after praying toward Mecca, as he did five times a day. He served sugary tea in shot glasses like a Arab. He said he liked the Jews.
they were the "ultimate other".
The Muslim men of this camp "might have" sat and wondered if Majid Kamal (you can't have a good genocide with out men like him) formerly of Hezbollah in the Be-kaa Vally, Lebanon who had trained many of the Janjaweed in Darfur, might have went back to visit, but it did not seem to matter to him. or the other Muslim men, he raised George Bush's thin little arms in triumph.
I worry for little 'Boosk-Ka,'when will the sand's of the Sahel call out for more blood, to feed the ground on one of the most enduring killing fields in human history.
An old genocide, reborn for a new century.
---"WAR IS NOT PEACE' ---'FREEDOM IS NOT SLAVERY"---- "IGNORANCE IS NOT STRENGTH "
