a bànyàszbéka segge alatt...

...as the Hungarian saying goes. "At the bottom of a coalmine, with a frog's arse above you". Nothing could describe my situation better.

The Long, Long Goodbye

The surgeons, after a series of stomachoscopies and computer tomographies, attempted the removal of the gall bladder ( micro-invasive style), but switched to a mere laparoscopy after a close look at the inoperable tumorous condition of the liver and gall bladder tissues.
And I, as everybody, assumed my mom to be immortal.

It all started after a beautiful weekend in Bremen with Ulli, my former wife - we're divorced since 1991, but still hold close contact... It was a first attempt to the "senior citizen" scene, a "Greek evening" in a Greek restaurant run by Iranians, with a cute mixture of Kazantsakis, Theodorakis, Retsina and vacation pictures presented by a small publishing house and other interested parties, including a teacher of Greek (my Ex attends his lessons, hence the connection). Nobody under 60 except the Greek teacher's boyfriend. The event's level was surprisingly high, with a Theodorakis acquaintance reciting poems, unusual live takes of the artist himself... and the strange spell of the country of the most human gods ever got us all.
Didn't sleep too well that night - we had gone a long way by bicycle, and I'm a little off-training. So when I returned to my Harburg home, I had a little nap, and overslept until 10 p.m. When I gunned my comp then, I found my sister's eMail. Mom is at hospital, looks like her gall bladder will be removed, and would I join her and her husband early next morning on their way down to Central Germany where mom lives? Of course I did.

Mom - Lotte, as we call her now, was all yellow as a result of a blocked gall duct. The stately and powerful figure in my memory (dating from the late 50s)had shrunk to a little old, frail and ill-looking woman. Whenever I saw her in the past 15 years I experienced that ever increasing bias of imagination and reality as she grew visibly older and smaller. But never as small as this. Anyway, everybody was oozing optimism, the operation will be tomorrow or so, easy thing, micro-invasive. I had my gall bladder removed five years ago, and, look, practically no scars.
I stayed in Lotte's house, with my younger sister and her husband, my Hamburg sister returned home the same evening. No operation on Monday, stomachoscopy on Tuesday, with no decisive results, CT on Thursday, with no decisive results. Another weekend goes by. We're all contemplating worst case scenarios without talking about them. But mostly we're concentrating on surgical or anesthetical risks. We're at the hospital every day, with Lotte getting less yellow all the time. Optimism. Monday there's another stomachoscopy, and the decision to remove the gall bladder on Tuesday. Lotte was a little weak after the operation, but it was clear that they had undertaken the less risky micro-invasive op. Great relief, and SMS in all directions...
Next day brother in law Peter, one of the medics in the family, with flawless accuracy, reported the results of the operation that didn't take place: inoperable cancer, and an insecure timeline ranging from six weeks to maybe years, depending on next week's histology results.
We went to Lotte and told her - she had overheard some remarks about "histology results" and suspected something like that. Very, very cool, calm and collected, Lotte. And just a little too fast in declaring that she'd had a good life of 88 years anyway, with four children and five grandchildren. And we were all nodding for pedagogic reasons and biting away our tears and our untimely grief.
She was released from hospital last Thursday - weak on arrival, lulled by hospital infantilisation, she went to bed, but after a while visibly composed herself, started inspecting her flowers, and ended up on the balcony as long as the sun permitted to stay there... I left in the evening, had to.

And now I'm here, trying to cope with a loss of security. Life will never be the same.

Bill's Farewell

Just read the news, David Carradine (73) was found dead at his room at the Hotel on Wireless Road, near Sukhumvit entertainment area in central Bangkok, Thailand. First reports were he took his own life.

An article in today's Bangkok Post indicates he overdid auto-erotic asphyxiation. I googled the term and was astonished to learn it really works... And - maybe important for his widow - insurance companies regard such deaths as accidental, not suicide.

As usual in C.'s bio, the good, the bad and the ugly seem to mix in generous portions. He, a vaguely Asian looking Caucasian, was the front Kung Fu Fighting figure for a US public that was "not yet ready for an Asian leading actor" in the 1970s ("Kung Fu"), acted with world-class directors M.Scorcese ("Boxcar Bertha"), I. Bergman ("The Serpent's Egg"), and, unforgettably, Q. Taranino ("Kill Bill" Vol 1 + 2). I loved his appearance in H. Ashby's "Bound for Glory". But, as he acted in 200 something movies, he did a lot of visual trash as well ("Lone Wulf McQuade")...
But I'll always remember him as a tough, controlled guy, a Western adaption of Oriental wisdom and martial arts. Ah, those five final steps in "Kill Bill 2".

Beaufort Five

From my flat I'm overlooking the ancient Jewish Cemetery. It's more of a park these days, nazi government removed both the Hebrew language tombstones and the registers in the 1930s so it's not sure where which tomb is situated. Some decidedly Christian tombstones remained, but most of the time one walks over unmarked graves. And people seem to appreciate this - nobody plays soccer on the lanes. A big population of rabbits triumphantly survives the feeble attempts of the local dog population to decimate them. Cunning little fellows, wide-eyed and superior. And then one stumbles over that little badge upon a rock, " Meyer Herschel, 1898 - 1927". Requiescas in pace, brother.
Right now the rhododendron bushes - some of them almost a century old - are in full bloom. Those delicate colors... and at the center of many a bush there is an abandoned grave, cast-iron railing , headstone and all. Reminds me of "Dornröschen", the sleeping beauty by the Grimm brothers. Strange, the mind likes to compare death with sleep, tries to wave the finality of death away - so many religions take advantage of our problem with the ultimate.

I love living up here in the moderate North of Germany - it's because we have all these different kinds of winds from breeze to raging

Felix Valloton "Blossoming Fields", 1912

storm. In Central Germany - where I grew up - the rare storms are catastrophes. The landscape, the plants, the houses aren't designed for them, so every strong wind seems to be a hurricane, with cars lop sizing, trees falling and roof tiles flying. Not so up here. The fostered, sane trees of the cemetery gently bow to the gusts, with all their leaves shrieking in delight. Now and then the appartment block seems to shudder under the passionate caress of the winds. And the air is like nothing else. It does not smell maritime - the North Sea is 50 miles away - but incredibly fresh and clean. All the dust, the pollens and other allergic stuff is blown away. A Histamine wind.

Due to a banking problem I had to pay this month's rent in cash to my landlord's account. He lives in the region around Hamburg that we call "fat man's belly". In the German fiscal system one's place of residence raises the taxes. Many who are a bit better off earn their wages in Hamburg and pay their taxes to what used to be small dreamy villages in the vicinity. These days these communities are a lot better off (per capita) than the cities. It shows - they look almost Swiss, with roads you could eat from, and more off-road incapable SUV than cars... Anyway, I had to visit a branch of his regional bank which is not allowed to entertain an office in Hamburg. So I boarded a bus and drove to the closest city border. And landed amidst Lower Saxony at its best. Green lanes, obscure cattle sporting thick brown fur, bison-like, horses, and sheep... and a small storm (Beaufort 5) cleaning and brushing all the landscape - beautiful. Decided to walk all the way back, which, as usual, turned out to be a two and a half hours affair due to poor navigation on my part. Loved every minute of it.

Oedipal Taliban

My relation to Pakistan is a long and complex one. As a lawyer, I specialized (amongst other fields) in political asylum cases of people from India and Pakistan (and West Africa, but that is another story), so I had to acquire a solid knowledge of the subcontinent's history and problems... I was fascinated by both the cultural diversity and timeless continuity of India and its younger Muslim brothers, Pakistan & Bangladesh. So it was only natural, when I looked for wider horizons in the mid-eighties, to go there and have a closer look.
So, after quite a few adventures (including a brutally effective mugging) in India, I landed in Lahore, Pakistan on a hot August night in 1985, in possession of exactly 55 USD, with no return ticket (hence wearing an impeccable three-part business suit- it worked). Stayed in the YMCA for a week, then, with all my money spent on telegrams to Germany, I moved to sleep in a municipal park close to a night market. Where all the other do-no-goods lived. Strange enough I was accepted by that dropout community- if you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. Those few weeks are amidst the most intense, most interesting moments of my life. Later I walked and hitched to Islamabad to get a return ticket at the German Embassy - another story.
A few impressions from that time - men hugging each other and walking along holding hands, a brutal illegal homosexual scene, the total absence of the female element in daily life, hence the frequent cockfights, the social mechanism of family and clan preventing those cockfights from exceeding the verbal stage (two men facing each other, screaming at the top of their lungs, both held in place and controlled by their peers), the sudden conversion of an educated conversationalist into a sobbing wannabe rapist - an unveiled Christian woman had entered the tea stall where we were sitting, and the incredible friendliness and dignity of common Pakistan street construction workers who shared their breakfast with me as I was walking to Islamabad. The timelessness of the rural regions.
Just to make clear why I'm interested in what happens there.

Got the news this morning that (suspected) Taliban fighters raided a building of the Pakistan military secret service ISI in Lahore. Seems four gunmen opened fire with semi-automatic weapons and finally blew up a car bomb that wrecked their target and adjacent buildings. Victim numbers vary from 27 to 40 dead and 100 to 250 wounded. The usual "reliable sources" connect the assault to the Pakistan Army's progress in the Swat valley where Taliban forces are under heavy pressure and about to lose Mingora. This is the second assault in Lahore this year after a failed attempt to kill or abduct the Sri Lankan Cricket team in March which resulted in six dead and several wounded.

The 2009 Sri Lankan Cricket Team merely consisted of infidel Buddhists, so it was a prime target for the Taliban. Let's not forget the Qu'ran differentiates strictly between
- muslims who are full-bodied citizens (if male and not slaves),
- "religions of the book"- Jews and Christians, who are allowed to live and keep their faith, but are ghettoized and strictly second class and have to pay 10% tax (Djizya)or leave the country.
- all the rest, be they Hindu, Buddhist, Animist ( the "kafir") have the choice to convert to Islam or die. They may not leave the country and can be enslaved. Under Taliban rule in Afghanistan , Hindus had to wear yellow patches to mark them, and a yellow banner over their house.

There is a new quality in this last assault: It killed muslims only, and was directed against the IRS, the Pakistan joint forces intelligence agency.
Irony of history.
The Taliban were founded by the IRS (and funded by the US) as an infiltration element in the ongoing conflicts with India (Cashmere) and post-Soviet occupation Afghanistan. The Red Army had left the country in 1989, leaving the country in constant civil war, as local warlords competed for power. It is remarkable how often Islamic countries with no national identity go the Somali way... Well, the Taliban changed this and established an almost nationwide rule of an ultra-conservative "old men's Islam". Have a look at the list of "Taliban Don'ts" and don't giggle (flying a kite is "un-islamic")- offenders faced severe punishment, often death penalty.
Follows 9/11, the decision to bomb Bin Laden instead of buying him. Which was a realistic option then - Bin Laden, who devides the world in Dar al-Harb and Dar al-Islam, a distinction alien to Qu'ran or Hadith, was a heretic to the "Deobandis school" Taliban. He'd not have been the first to be delivered to the enemy for a ransom. All in all he was closer to the oppositional "Northern Alliance", the side which the "Coalition forces" chose as their beachhead in Afghanistan... History is an ironic bitch. Wish I could laugh.

Next thing was that the Afghan self defense mechanism against any occupation clicked, which, over the years, increased the influence of the Taliban. Looks like they are still the only nationwide religiously camouflaged political force, and attempting to organize resistance. They got support by warlords who wanted the good old Somali days back, and there were still close ties to Pakistan's border provinces, tribal and gov't ruled areas alike. Now with the new Afpak policy of the ISAF and the unwilling but still effective progress of the Pakistan Army in the Swat Valley, the Taliban feel betrayed by their foster-fathers and "retaliate". The classical Freudian patricide situation. We'll see who teaches whom a lesson...

Birds & Tigers

Sunday, bloody sunday...
I live on the fifth floor of a house overlooking a small park on top of one of the terminal moraines that southern Hamburg was built on. It's not flat like the rest of the city. Hamburg is a green city - when you approach Fuhlsbuettel Airport by plane in summer, you have difficulties to see the city at all. It's not like London or Paris where you fly over endless roof lines. We love our parks and gardens, and there are lots of them.
The vicinity of the park implies a great variety of song birds. There are four cats that live in my and the adjacent houses, well-fed and healthy creatures. The supple rests of their meals are subject to constant guerrilla warfare. The songbirds and occasional pigeons lost very early, they don't play any role. The ongoing battle is between blackbirds, madges and crows. Blackbirds tend to come alone, snatch a snack and fly away. Madges come in multiples of two - four or six usually, secure the perimeter, and fight over the rest of the cat's food. Crows come in pairs, chase everybody else away, and feast together.
Seagulls don't touch the food, but scare everybody else away. Seems they're content to have air supremacy...And they're the loudest birds I know.

The Tamil Tigers, I read, admitted that V. Prabhakaran is indeed dead. It is strange how such an unscrupulous person, a murderer with blood up to the elbows, can appear as light-radiating hero in the propaganda of the Tamil diaspora here in Europe... Many still believe he's not dead.
And the legends go on: Bloggers compared V.P. to the "5th Imam", a Shiite messian figure that does not die and will bring final justice to the world. Well, well - that's a queer title for someone who expelled 75,000 muslims from LTTE-territory in 1990..."Ethnic cleansing" it was called. They were allowed to take their clothes and 50 SRLRupees (less than half a USD) each. Their houses were looted and often torn down.
To tell the whole story, "supreme leader" Prabhakaran apologized twelve years later and asked everybody to return. Which about 1,500 muslims did, of the 75,000 expelled...a clear sign of the absence of trust.

Soccer Saturday

Saturday... last day of German Soccer major league, and the rare situation that still three clubs can win championship - VfL Wolfsburg, VfB Stuttgart and the notorious FC Bayern München. All three are playing today, but none directly against each other. Interesting maths... Anyway, it's not my kind of pie (as long as Munich looses, but that's another story).
I prefer team handball, which is much faster, rougher, scores lots more goals and involves a less narcistic type of team player. A counter in handball is a matter of split seconds, with everybody attacking, in football it's a few tiny people sprinting over an endless plain. Anyway, will be an interesting afternoon On the Balcony, with everybody in sight yelling and suffering.
...
And Wolfsburg made it! (after a glorious 5:1 victory over Werder Bremen, ouch!) Wolfsburg - which is a no-name town that grew around Volkswagen Works after WW2 - will be more or less helter/skelter...Whenever a German club defeats the multi-million giant down there in Munich, everybody except the hardcore Bayern fans is sympathetic. David & Goliath, kind of.
Other news of the day - German Constitution got 60 yrs today, and our President was re-elected as planned. Business as usual - and time for a dram at the local smokers' club.

After the club I returned to the onLine Canard scene - still trying to figure out what kind of aircraft I've seen yesterday. Had the feeling that the cockpit looked somewhat more edgy than the clear oval of the Gyroflug Speed Canard...


Finally found a few pictures of the COZY MkIV, a derivative of Burt Rutan's Long-EZ, and that looks a lot more like what I saw...

Strong Tobacco

Went to the local Asia Shop to get my IndoMie noodles "Chicken Tikka taste". Last time I mentioned I had smoked Vietnamese "thuoc lao"once. Now today one of the personell - Nguyen - had a "dieu cai" bamboo water pipe ready, and I had to try. Of course everybody was watching, smoking "tuoc lao" is a very macho thing in Vietnam. Managed to hold my breath for a while, all dizzy from the incredibly nicotinous mixture. Then I caughed for a while, and the guys giggled for a while. Went home with a piece of bamboo and a little bag. Will have to practice before I take the next draw in public... And my Vietnamese is lousy.

When the pipe was finished - it's an easy to assemble construction - I felt like hearing a little bitter-sweet 70/80 Kinks music. So I checked uTube and chose "It's Living on a Thin Line". To find that this beautiful cynic ballad about the vanity of all leaders and powers is being used by Stupid White Men from the UK and US to lament the loss of "Rule Britannia"! Can't these people listen to a text? Nothing - well, almost nothing - but white power, hate speech, and stupid anti Islamic Mexican immigration stuff. These people sit at the bottom of the crater that their exploding fraud bank schemes produced, and hold Islamic infiltration and Mexican illegals responsible for their situation! Many followers of a certain M. Savage, ph.D. who, as I found out, is "persona non grata" in Great Britain. Not that he intends to leave the US... At first sight I thought he was a kind of Radio Clown for a hillbillie listenership, but apparently he's looked upon as a skillful political commentator. Some people seem to think that freedom of speech gives them (and only them) the right to call everybody else a faggot, and shut up. I made an ironic commentary (WRONG!), and was called a treehugger (whatever that may be?), a faggot, and a retard. As these people fall into the category of the "authoritarian personality disorder", all I had to do was pull military rank. I even got an excuse!

Of all people on earth, the Canadians did it! Yahoo News : the first conviction of a Rwandan war criminal is about to happen sometime in September. After 15 years, at least. Guy responsible for organizing the mass murder of Tutsi and moderate Hutu faces life imprisonment. Remember: that was the Fastest Genocide in history: 800,000 victims, hacked to pieces and bludgeoned to death in a few months, with UN troops watching wide eyed with their hands cuffed behind their backs - "no interference, Mr. Spock, only self-defence!" But finally, finally...well, ONE was found guilty.

Tiger Ragnarök

So... this is Web 2.0.
As I understand it, I can give an account of what happens to me, moves me, attracts and disturbs me, right?

Hmm. Friday, May 22nd, 2009
Looked out of my window today and saw a formation of two tiny strange flying objects, too slow and far too noisy to be the usual suspects or UFOs. It could well have been Gyroflug Speed Canard sports flyers...

A strange construction with a roughly egg-shaped rump , canards at the front of it, and slightly arrow-shaped wings. Propeller at the back of it. I read this construction can't stall... Where's my digicam when I need it?

While researching the planes, I came across Burt Rutan and space ship one - it really exists! And I thought Niven, Pournelle and Flynn made it all up in their sci-fi book "Fallen Angels"! So it was kinda flying objects day until noon.
Later I find a lot of photos of - seemingly - the deceased V. Prabhakaran, head of the inglorious Tamil Tigers. Strange to see that charismatic terrorist dead. He liked to have the image of an indefeatable Hindu hero. Wonder what he'll be reborn as... Later found the interpol - International Police Organisation - warrant. Well, he reached his position as pro tem dictator of parts of Sri Lanka by murdering rivals who were less charismatic, less murderous, less terrorist. Now that he's dead, there's a chance that reasonable people step forward to represent Tamil interests. I do not underestimate the difficulty of balancing Tamil, Singhalese, Muslim and Burgher interests on Sri Lanka. There was a horrible heritage in 1949, but a lot less bloodshed than on the rest of the Indian subcontinent. There had been a British Colonial Policy of "divide et impera", and some S-L Government measures bordered open discrimination. But compared to the Pakistan/Indian catastrophe... with hundreds of millions of displaced people, and hundreds of thousands dead...
Reuniting the people will be very, very hard, that's for sure. But I understand there were not too many problems in the Batticola and Trincomalee Tamil populated regions in the last two years after the East rejoined Sri Lanka...