Back in Berlin

Well, this is quite sad news. I am back in Berlin, the adventure is over, reality and routine will have me back sooner than thought. The last days in Kyrgyzstan were great, the tour to remote Batken difficult but fruitful and the time in Bishkek a happy-sad farewell. New-won friends, an interesting and comfortable place to live - all that doesn't make it too easy to return to Europe, with its routines and completely different challenges.

What I am going to put up here in the near future is the following:

-> two articles that will appear on openDemocracy (one on Kyrgyzstan's political situation, one on China's West)
-> a report on what happened in Batken oblast
-> perhaps some concluding remarks

Was alles schiefgehen kann

Das gute alte Schreibheft hat auf meinen Reisen ohne Laptop gute Dienste verrichtet, obwohl ich oft meine eigene Handschrift gar nicht mehr erkennen kann. Hier der Bericht, den ich unmittelbar nach Ankunft in Batken verfasste (Mist, schon zuviel verraten). Ich bin mitunter wieder in Bischkek angelangt, nachdem ich auf dem Rückweg zum Glück einen Direktflug aus der 12,000 Einwohner zählenden Stadt bekommen habe. Es ist gut, wieder hier zu sein - nachdem mich der Trip wohl zu einer der entlegensten Ecken Asiens gebracht hat und unheimlich interessant war. Mehr dazu später - hier.

Autofahrten in Kirgisien gehören sicherlich zu den aufregendsten ihrer Art. Allein die Landschaft, die es allerorts zu bestaunen gilt, bietet genug Anreiz, das Land auf vier Rädern kennenzulernen. Probleme, meist ob des Alters der Vehikel her rührend, bleiben jedoch bei längeren Fahrten nicht aus. Dass jedoch auch alles schiefgehen kann, war mir wenigsten bis gestern erspart geblieben.

Von Osh sollte mich ein Taxi in das abgelegene Batken bringen, Hauptstadt des gleichnamigen Oblasts. Gleich zu Beginn offenbarte sich die Mutter aller Probleme: In der territorial durchwachsenen Region benötigen Ausländer ein usbekisches Visum, um in den Genuss der durchweg asphaltierten Straße nach Batken zu kommen. Zu zeiten der UdSSR waren die Teilrepubliken mit einem ganzheitlichen Infrastrukturnetz durchzogen. Grenzen innerhalb der Union spielten im Alltag der Menschen nur geringfügige Rollen. Verwandte in Usbekistan konnten von Kirgistan aus ohne Probleme besucht werden - der Grenzübertritt war de jure - und in der Realität bis auf pompös-sozialistische Willkommensmonumente unsichtbar.

Nach der Unabhängigkeit jedoch brach dieses weiche System zusammen. Alles, was bisher im Verbund organisiert worden war, lag nun in der Zuständigkeit einzelner, unabhängiger Staaten. Gerade zwischen Kirgistan und Usbekistan führten Unstimmigkeiten im Austausch von Wasser und Gas zu verhärteten Fronten. Teilweise wurde auch der visafreie Transitverkehr abgeschafft, was zu unsäglichen Problemen für normale Menschen auf beiden Seiten führte. Somit war meinem Taxifahrer die Strecke bekannt, die usbekisches Territorium umgeht: "No Uzbeki Visa" - und der Mann verdrehte schon die Augen.

Gut, wäre sein Auto im Rahmen gängiger Standards ausgerüstet und funktionabel gewesen, hätte die Strecke auch bei weitem nicht so problematisch sein müssen. Aber, und ich übertreibe nicht im geringsten, sein Auto war nicht mehr als ein Haufen Schrott. Ein Lada Nova, ca. 20 Jahre alt, ist an sich kein Grund zu übermäßiger Sorge. Als ich jedoch in Osh beim Anschieben helfen musste, dämmerte mir schon, dass dieser Trip kein Zuckerschlecken werden würde.

Problem 1: Der Anlasser
Lösbar. Wenn der Motor wieder mal zu heiß gelaufen war (meistens beim Bergauffahren), einfach mit dem letzten Rest kinetischer Energie wenden - den Berg zurück herunterrollen und am Fuße wieder den Gang einlegen. Problematischer nur bei ebener Strecke. In dem Fall erst warten, dann schieben.

Problem 2: Die Elektronik
Unlösbar. Sicherheitsbedenken hoch. Bei Einbruch der Dunkelheit setzten sich schon die nächsten Sorgenfalten auf die Stirn. Unser Licht glich eher dem Standlicht meines alten Simson-Rollers. Auf kirgisischen Straßen mit mehr Schlaglöchern als Asphaltbelag kann dies schnell ins Auge gehen. Entgegenkommende Fahrzeuge quittierten unseren Blindflug mit einem Gewitter an Lichthupen - was die Augen einem unbarmherzigen Wechsel von hell und dunkel aussetzte.

Problem 3: Die Reifen
Um Mitternacht forderte die Umleitungsstrecke ihren Tribut. Die Buckelpiste mit herausragenden Steinen und Schlaglöchern der Kategorie 'ernst' fraß sich langsam aber sicher in das schon poröse Profil unseres rechten Vorderreifens. Nach einem lauten Knall war das Unausweichliche dann passiert. Reifen geplatzt, Hoffnung dahin. Batken schien unerreichbar fern.

Die Sitze wurden also umgeklappt und das Auto zum Schlafplatz für diese Nacht, inmitten der Wildnis. Alle zehn Minuten röhrte ein Kamas-Laster an uns vorbei. Nicht nur Ausländer ohne usbekisches Visum benutzen diese Umleitung, sondern augenscheinlich auch Transportunternehmer ohne Lust auf die berühmt-berüchtigten usbekischen Grenzkontrollen.

Im Morgengrauen traute sich der Fahrer erstmals, einen Laster anzuhalten, um ihn nach Profilschutz zu fragen. Diesen kombinierte er mit dem geplatzten Reifen, einem unversehrten Schlauch (Gott weiß, wo er den her hatte) - und ab ging die Post (nach Anschieben) - weiter Richtung Batken. Im nächsten Marktflecken wurde es dann unausweichlich. Ein neuer Reifen musste her, koste es, was es wolle. 200 Som mehr als in Osh wollte der Verkäufer, und zähneknirschend stimmte der Taxifahrer zu. Den Reifen zogen wir jedoch erst auf, als der geflickte endgültig den Geist aufgab, ca. 50 Kilometer weiter. Dann endlich, 15 Stunden und magere 250 Kilometer von Osh entfernt, klingelt mein Telefon. Endlich, Batken ist erreicht. Isgesamt 15-mal Anschieben, zweimal Reifen wechseln und mehr als einmal Grenzsituationen durch mangelndes Licht - was ist das schon alles, wenn es überstanden ist.

Geplant waren sechs Stunden, aber gerade in Kirgistan ist Zeit ein Faktor, den man nicht unterschätzen sollte. Mein Anschlusstaxi war natürlich längst über alle Berge - dafür bin ich aber in guten Händen. Torsten, GTZ-Mitarbeiter, hat mich eingeladen, die Nacht in seinem Haus zu verbringen. Mit ihm werde ich morgen aufbrechen, ins Camp, wo ich dann mit 2 Tagen Verspätung eintreffen werde.

Wie ich mich schon auf den Weg zurück freue.

Schwartz - Return from Ramallah

15.8.04

I spent the weekend at Beit Seerya (which boasts the second largest mosque dome in Israel/Palestine, after the as-Sakhra, the Dome of the Rock) and Ramallah, a youthful city bursting with life. It was an enlightening whirlwind journey, confirming many things I've already thought, confirming things I've heard but didn't believe, and also showing me some other things.

I don't have any time to write a good entry on my trip right now. One of my bosses here in the village is drowning me in work. I'll say this much: on the morning of Saturday, the lorry I was riding passed through a "checkpoint." Two young Israelis leapt out from the bush (no barriers, no signs -- some "checkpoint"). Their heads were wrapped in a ludricous bee-catcher's outfit. They trained their guns on the driver. I'll never forget how the passengers in the lorry stiffened with fright, and I'll never forget the absolute terror in the eyes of the soldiers, who spoke to us in monosyllables.

Last year I got into an argument with a Palestinian when I was at SOAS. He kept going on about the "reality of the Occupation," the injustice toward the Palestinians. Recently before I left the US I got into an argument with a Jew. He kept going on about the "reality of the Situation," the injustice toward the Israelis. I'll tell you what the "reality" is: it's a nightmare of two nations terrified of each other.

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17.8.04
Update
1. I will be expanding this entry shortly.
2. My laptop is now capable of connecting to the Internet on its own, which streamlines things a bit.
3. I have gotten permission from the publicity office to go ahead with an article about the village for AlterNet.org.
4. Correction and reflection added to 11.8.04 entry, "Israel/Palestine: What America Was, Good and Bad. (By the way, that entry has received very positive feedback. Thanks everybody! As soon as I'm able, I'll make a "second edition" out of the copy of the entry currently posted on Thinking-East.net.)
5. Ben and I will, inshallah, begin an advertising blitz for Thinking-East.net within the next week.

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20.8.04
Huge amounts of labor being spent on two apartments here in the village. I'm trying to repair/paint the walls but the damned things keep crumbling and the paint keeps peeling and one of my bosses is not exactly kindhearted and wants my blood. Fun times! I'll try to get a photograph or two of the disaster onto the blog for a laugh's sake. Eventually I'll get to writing an entry about Ramallah and hopefully soon Ben and I can get going on our advertising blitz. Ya'allah!!

Check out this article of a BBC crew being held at gunpoint by the IDF this past weekend while I was in Ramallah.

Right before I left, militants associated with Moqtada as-Sadr in Najaf, Iraq, kidnapped a British reporter from the Daily Telegraph.

Shall Modernity kill itself by annhilating the flow of information?

Schwartz - Israel/Palestine: What America Was, Good and Bad
[Reflection & Update]

For the last few days I have been working with Voltaire, a Palestinian villager here at Neve Shalom/Wahat as-Salaam, former shepherd and now teacher at the village's elemenary school. We have been digging holes and posting signs along the side of the road that winds its way up to the village from the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway. It's good, hard work. I have to wake up by 6 AM every morning -- quite a feat for a spoiled modern American! -- and work for several hours on this project. Voltaire is excellent company, and true to his name, he is very philosophical (the philosopher was his grandfather's favorite, which was why Voltaire's father chose the name for him), reflective, calm, meditative, with a Socratic gaze as sharp as pickaxe.

By 10 AM, the unmerciful Middle Eastern sun finally begins to reach the peak of its Apollo-like journey to the throne of Allah in the center of the firmament. But before that happens, the earth is blanketed by the shadows of long white clouds, and a refreshing, electric breeze rolls down the valleys. At the top of one of the hills that leads to the village, I took a moment to look out across the land. To my left, the farms of a nearby kibbutz; to my right, more farm, and beyond that the wineries of the Latrun monastery; and behind me, the world's only cooperative Jewish/Arab village. All around me was the spirit of experimentation, of newness, of youth. I glanced at Voltaire, who stabbed at the earth with his tools, and I remembered that the farmland around me was once Palestinian villages, and the youthfulness of the State of Israel was once the ancientness of Syria-Palestine. I thought of last night: I was with the village's Palestinian workers, smoking the nargila, when word reached us that soldiers were in the village. Instantly the lights were shut off and I and one of the older workers snuck out to survey the scene as the others nervously peered through the doorway. The soldiers were only waiting for the bus to come get them, but their presence was enough to terrify my acquaintances. I found myself also thinking that were I in a Tel Aviv cafe, the presence of a Palestinian in a heavy jacket would be enough to sew terror in the hearts of those around me, as well. Back in the present, atop the hill, after the memories passed was when an idea hit me: today's Israel/Palestine is what America was, in the 19th Century.

[Click on "Continue Reading"]

The American Frontier was where the persecuted masses of Europe -- Scottish, Puritan and then Catholic English, Irish -- collided with the natives of an ancient continent, a land the newcomers claimed was "empty" and "undeveloped." This is Israel/Palestine, where another persecuted people of Europe -- the Ashkenazim -- have collided with a native population whose land was also declared "empty" and "undeveloped." As in the case of America, the newcomers seek to "modernize" the land -- huge rational agricultural projects, cities sprouting left and right -- while their opponents seek to "preserve" it or what hasn't yet been "cultivated/corrupted." As in the case of America, particular segments of the formerly persecuted Europeans rise to the top of the new regional socioeconomic ladder (New England Puritans and Southern Anglicans; Northern and Western European Ashkenazim) and send their former kinsmen (America's poor whites; the Eastern European Ashkenazim and the Sephardim) and new members of the underclass (Irish, Africans; Falashim and Lost Jews) to die suppressing the natives' insurrection. As in the case of America, the natives resort to a dubious mix of armed freedom-fighting and terrorism (i.e., Geronimo and Yassir Arafat), even millenialism (i.e., the Ghost Dance and HAMAS' desires to "drive Israel into the sea" to fulfill Qur'anic prophecy). Moreover, as in America, the natives are being relegated to a bantustan existence (the "sovereign nations" of the Amerindian Reservations; Clinton and Sharon's proposed "Palestinian State," a hodgepodge of territories lacking control of its own resources and airspace).* But also, as in America, there is a brave urge to experiment with new socioeconomic arrangements (i.e., the Oneidan Community, Nauvoo, Neve Shalom/Wahat as-Salaam, the kibbutzim), and a desire from all the peoples, newcomer and native, to be one with the land, to be rooted.

There are major exceptions to my comparisons. Very importantly, Isreal does not have slaves, and while it is true that the Palestinians, Sephardim and Falashim serve as cheap source of labor, Israel's economy is thoroughly dependent on American foreign aid and global Jewish donations. In other words, Isreal isn't getting a free ride to prosperity like America did (and for that matter, America didn't either; remember that little snaffu, the Civil War?) In point of fact, unlike the Amerindians, who were left to rot under the foot of American soldiers by the world and often their own kindred, the Palestinians receive monetary aid from the European Union and global Palestinian, Christian and Muslim donations. Also, the Jews are not "newcomers" in the strictest sense of the word, being that this territory was theirs 2000 years ago, though conquered from and often shared with non-Jews. Also, in Israel, all Jews serve in the military, unlike in America where only the poor served, though I've heard rumors that in the IDF, some Jews are more equal than other Jews.** The West Bank and Gaza are occupied, not annexed, as was the case with the Wild West, though there are those in Israel who are trying to make this otherwise. And while the Occupation is a martial endeavor to support a political and civilian expansion, as was the case of Manifest Destiny in America, in the West Bank, the Occupation is in a much physically tinier geographic space and is conducted with extremely powerful modern, deadlier and less accident prone weaponry (that is to say, many of the IDF's claims that so-and-so's death or the demolition of so-and-so's house were "accidental" are suspect on technological, not to mention professional, grounds). While America's weaponry in the Wild West was cutting-edge, that did not mean America could have won the Wild West easily if it just decided to; take for example Custard's Last Stand and the Red Cloud War. In the case of Israel (which, ironically, receives most of its cutting-edge weaponry from America), if the Jewish State decided to do so tomorrow, it could end the Intifada with a Viet Nam War-style carpet bombing of the West Bank. But this leads me to an important difference: in the 19th Century, the world, most non-native Americans, and many Amerindians themselves, turned a blind eye to the what was happening in the Wild West. However in Israel/Palestine, the world is paying attention. But how the world has done so is a much more complicated matter. As often as the world has tried to do right by the Jewish and the Arab peoples, it has done wrong by both peoples, it has exploited the conflict to its own ends -- just look at the obscurantism of the Republican Party of America and the Arab States! -- and it has increasingly allowed itself to be perverted by the distorted ideologies that are sprouting from the violence -- take a gander at all the polls indicating the increasing popularity of Christian Zionism, al-Qaeda globalized fascism and anti-American neo-Marxism.

But the most obvious and I believe most pertinent correlation between the American Frontier and today's Israel/Palestine is this: it is a tragic war for stolen but sacred land, loved by both peoples -- indeed, often lusted for and horded by each nation -- and it is an even more tragic civil war of a shared dream to find a place to call home, a dream that has been cleaved into two resentful, competing and almost irreconciable halves. This was the American Frontier... no wonder I can smell an electricity in the breeze...

*There is a bitter joke in the Gaza Strip: A rich man had a dog who was unhappy where they lived in America, so the rich man moved to India, but the dog was still unhappy. Then he moved to Korea, but the dog was still unhappy. So he moved again, to Egypt, and the dog was not as unhappy, but still discontent. Then he moved to Gaza City, and the dog was frollicking and joyful. The man asked, "Why are you so happy?" The dog replied, "Because here is the life for dogs!"

**But even this is a complicated matter. As in America then and now, Sephardim-Ashekanizm mix-marriages are increasingly common, though I do not know if it is primarily the East European Ashkenazim who are doing this or all the Ashkenazim. I've met at least one Yemeni-Romanian, and I've seen a few Eastern European-Sephardim running about.

Painting: Artist unknown; Engraver, Hunter and Co.; 1870
Photograph, Yassir Arafat: Photographer unknown
Photograph, Geronimo: A famous photograph, so I don't think I need to cite it. Besides, I haven't a clue who the photographer was anyway.

This entry will be reprinted in Thinking-East.Net... that is, as soon as my username and password become functional. Ollie!!

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Update I'm going to the village of Beit Syhra (not sure of the spelling), which is near Ramallah, this Friday and Saturday for an Arab wedding. I can't wait!

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18.8.04
Correction According to a source in the examinations division of the IDF (the office which determines who is given what assignments), my second endnote is highly innaccurate. In the Israeli military it is not true that "some Jews are more equal than other Jews." The fact that a high percentage of Israeli soldiers in combat right now are Sephardim is not due to intentional racism as it is due to institutional racism, a socioeconomic pattern knitted into the fabric of contemporary Israeli society. As with Blacks and Hispanics in the US, Sephardim often live in poor economic conditions. In the US, minorites enter the military -- a volunteer force -- in hopes of improving their socioeconomic position. In Israel, upon entrance into the military all conscripts are tested for various skills and aptitudes. Ashkenazim Jews, who have greater resources and thus better education, often score in ways that would make them more suitable for noncombative assignments, such as intelligence, etc. Sephardim Jews, however, tend not to receive good education, and so are less cultivated and thus more "suitable" for combat duty. So, while American minorities and Israeli minorites might start from very different points of origin, ironically they end up in the same place: in the line of fire.

My source made an interesting comment: "The problem isn't that the military is segregated. In fact, like in America, the military is a model of integration. All the money we spend on trying to better integrate the military could be better spent elsewhere. The problem is that we even have a military at all: what has happened historically to require such a huge army? Why are we at war with our neighbors?"

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Reflection Journalists don't usually need to footnotes because their profession is imbued with a natural authority. Thus, a journalist or would-be journalist must always be careful about what they report and how they report. Exactitude must be as important to the journalist as it is to the philosopher or scientist.

Schwartz - IDF

9.8.2004

"In Israel, all land belongs to the military"- Ruti, manager of the Neve Shalom/Wahat al-Salaam Guesthouse

I did some snooping around yesterday about the police and soldiers. The police who came to the pool were in fact on a routine patrol of poolsites throughout the Latrun region. That doesn't mean that if they came upon a Palestinian they wouldn't react; hence the reason our Palestinian crew disappeared for the afternoon. As Black Americans had to be wary of cops in the days of Jm Crow, the Palestinian workers from the West Bank of the village, the local kibbutzim and moshavim, and even the monastery, whether they be illegal or legal (licensed to work in Israel), must always be wary of law enforcement agents. Racism and legitimate fear of terrorism have led to much in the way of abuses by the police: detainments that stretch for days, even weeks, in sweaty prisons, and on-the-spot confiscations of possessions, including licenses, are, according to claims by Palestinians, unfortunate common occurences.

As to the presence of soldiers in the area, apparently the IDF (Israel Defense Forces) use Latrun regularly for "field excercises." I find this to be strange. For one thing, they are landing troops on private farmland (admittedly, the notion of "private" in Israel is a funny notion because so much of the land is directly owned by the state or indirectly through the JNF/KKL, the Jewish National Fund). Furthermore, why choose an area with such proximity to the Green Line (and such apparently high amounts of illicit border-crossing) to train army troops... unless it's not truly training? Nevertheless, there may not be ulterior motives. After all, Israel is a ridiculously tiny country, and especially thin at the waist, so one would be justified to ask, 'Where else would they train?' Incidentally, most of the Negev is military property, used to tests and excercises. However, most of the Middle East is not desert, and so a military force, especially one for an isolated country such as Israel, would naturally want to have some experience with more lively terrain.

I took photographs of the helicopters, but unfortunately my digital camera is lousy. The helicopters were no more than 200 feet away from me at one point, flying directly over the village's main office, but in the photographs they appear as though they were on the other side of the planet.

Update: I did some research this weekend on the Battle of Latrun and the Burma Road. Also, the village has information pertaining to the possible clearing of Arab villages from this region as late as 1958 and 1967.

In the extended entry is my original entry from yesterday.

In the future I will try to restrain myself from outbursts unbecoming of a (would-be) journalist. I am reminded of the idiot American journalist who has inadvertently sabotaged Ben's research into the Kashgar cattle markets. Journalism is a craft, an art, like football (soccer), not an American pigskin game where you can sloppily throw your weight around and still make a touchdown.

Original entry:
"8.8.2004 Soldiers have landed near village"
Police came to the village earlier today and black hawk helicopters are at this moment depositing soldiers on an olive farm down the hill from Neve Shalom. The village's Palestinian workers have gone into hiding. I don't know if the police and the soldiers are connected, but the Green Line is only a few kilometers away from the village and illegal Arab workers litter the region. The helicopters, from a nearby base, are also circling the village. The locals go about their business undisturbed, but this is a chilling reminder that I am now living in a warzone... I'll update this entry with more information as it comes to me.

Cattle Market Kashgar

Sat 07/08/04

Where to start when you're asked to write something about the local cattle market? Kashgar's fabled Sunday Market used to have one of the largest cattle sections in Central Asia. Two years ago, the authorities moved it outside of the city, to get of rid of herds of cattle in the centre of town. I thought to myself: Which place is better to find out about people's lives, their perceptions, dreams, etc.? openDemocracy has asked me to interview local traders, to see whether one can build an interesting story around it. Well, I have to admit that I don't bloody know a thing about cattle. Hopefully, this will change tomorrow. If you have any idea on what I could ask them, please don't hesitate to comment.

Sun 08/08/04

OK, that was it - after all, we're in China. It was difficult to get into contact with people. Somehow, Westerners with notepads and cameras seem to cause utter suspicion. Few people agreed to answer my questions, no one dared to give his or her name. Understandable maybe when taking into account what has happened some months ago. An American journalist (or rather idiot?) published an article where he gave real names of Uyghurs being critical of Beijing - and promptly, these poor souls got arrested and detained for long sentences. Luckily, I was able to talk to some people anyway - not focusing on politics, but rather on daily life. I hope that these few insights into normal life together with some pictures I took suffice for a nice little story?

Bishkek - Osh - Sary Mogol - Erkestam - Kashgar

Well, here I am - sitting in the hotel internet cafe, browsing through the pictures I made with my digital camera. It's been a while since I reported extensively here. But now, as I am alone and my friends on their way back to Bishkek, I will try to sum up the last week. It has been by far the most amazing one during my stay here in Central Asia. Let me begin with our transfer to Osh, which almost ended in a nightmare for me.

As I have already mentioned before, the Kyrgyz international airport Manas is packed with American transport jets. When we were asked to board our plane - a rusty Russian Yak 40, a stark gust came up, cutting my boarding pass off the ticket. Seeing this important sheet of paper fly away, the stewardess made an unmistakable sign that I shall run. Right towards the American base. What followed was an interesting scene. Everytime I seemed to have caught the pass, wind came up again and blew the paper farther away. After some 250 meters, I finally got hold of it, jumping on it, not letting it fly away again. This whole show caused a good deal of laughter among my friends and the other passengers, luckily, the Americans, whose zone I entered, weren't too amazed at all. The flight was unexpectedly smooth, despite the wind. The old plane, probably 35 years old, took some time to take off and incline, though I was impressed on how safe everything appeared. We Europeans are security fanatics, that's what I know now.

Having arrived in Osh, Hadji, a friend of a collegue from Bishkek, picked us up by car. His actual name is different, but everybody calls him so because he went on the Hadj some years ago. He is Uzbek, like more than sixty percent of Osh's population. During national delimitation, which I have also covered in this blog, the Uzbeks reacted with a chorus of outrage to the allocation of the city towards the newly formed Kara-Kyrgyz oblast. In 1991 the city was the scene of a tragic - but happily unrepeated - outburst of violence between the Kyrgyz and Uzbeks. More than 300 people died, evoking fear of further ethnic clashes in the heterogenous Ferghana-valley. Until now, this scenario did not prove true. Problems lie elsewhere. The economic situation the Uzbek side is much worse than in Osh, that's why the Uzbeks remain happily on the Kyrgyz side, where also the political scene is a bit more liberal than in authoritarian Uzbekistan.

We stayed overnight in Kenesh's apartment, from where we approached the fabled Osh-market the next day. Here, all ethnic groups of Central Asia come together and bargain over nearly everything that can be traded. Cheap Chinese products, all sorts of agricultural goods, cattle - all can be found here. The athmosphere was relaxed, as we came on a Tuesday. On Sunday, I was told, the scenery gets more crowded, with people from outside Osh coming to the city.

We equipped ourselves with plenty of food: bread, dried fruits, salami, and god knows what else. If I hadn't known we were planning to cross a 4000 meters pass, I would have guessed we'd go for the Everest. The taxi ride lasted about 5 hours and took us across two passes, where we got a first impression of the altitudes in this region. I couldn't concentrate too well and talked nonsense, to the amusement of my friends. When we entered the plains again, it was not too far to Sary-Mogol, our final destination. Based on some 2500m, nothing else than potatoes grows here; no trees, no bushes, nothing. In the background, 40 kilometers away, the Pamirs rose, with Pik Lenin (7,134m) shooting out.

Our host family warmly greeted us and with Kenesh's assistance, we could exchange some first basic information. The father, about 65 years old, was a veterinarian when he still worked. Having retired now, he reminded me a bit of my own grandfather, reading every single bit of the newspaper and generally being more interested in politics. Me and my three friends were staying in the winter house, a solid brick-building, built to resist outside temperatures of about minus 40 degrees in January or February. The diner was amazing, all sorts of milk products, lepyoshka-bread, tea (caj) plus a strong soup with traces of meat gave an impression of how unexpectedly rich a table can be decorated, even though many of these things had to be bought on the markets, brought to this remote spot from fertile Osh.

The next day, we started our tour. Heavy rain delayed our departure, but finally, around eight, the two Lada Nivas arrived to pick us up. They took us away from the Pamirs, to another mountain range, the Alaj. There, me and my three friends, Kenesh and two locals started to hike up the valley. Base-altitude was at about 2,500m; hence we had to climb up around 1,500m to the pass - quite a long way for us unexperienced hikers. We soon all became quite disillusioned: The locals found it easy to cross the torrent by jumping from stone to stone. All of us Berliners didn't manage it too easily, but fortunately, nothing else than wet shoes had to be bemoaned. Sebastian however got problems with his circulation, so he couldn't keep pace with the others, remaining at the end of the trek.

Soon we met the others with the horses and donkeys, so we could finally pack our stuff on the animals. The donkey that was carrying my stuff though seemed to have problems with the river, too. On one spot, he fell down sideways, dipping my backpack deep into the ice-cold water. 400 meters down from the pass, we had lunch in a hurry, as a storm was brewing. Finally, we reached the crossover between the two valleys - snow lay to our left and right. The altitude had taken its toll. Sebastian wasn't able to continue and luckily the horses couldn't either due to the terrain on the other side. The guides were afraid that they might stumble and fall down to the side. A horse is one of the most precious properties in rural areas, and hence they wouldn't risk it. So, Sebastian and Laura could turn back on the horsebacks. They arrived safely in the village at night.

We, the others, went on downhill. We reached the Jai-Loo (a herdsmen station) at 6 p.m. and started to erect our tents. The shoes were dried on the oven inside the yurt - and after a brief diner, we all fell asleep really quickly, knowing that the next day might require more strength again. We were right. The next day was insane. Although Elke and I (the others had left to Osh so they didn't have to go back again) rode up the pass on one donkey and one horse, the weather soon became the worst I have seen so far. First it was raining, right into our faces, without mercy. Ascending further up, the rain turned into snow, not less uncomfortable. Some hundred meters below pass-level, we ended up being in a proper thunderstorm. Lightnings stroke some meters away, scaring the sh** out of us. At this point, and seeing the scared faces of one of our guides, I would have liked to be somewhere else, away from this climatic nightmare. However, our most experienced guide, a cattle-trader, remained calm. Taking into account that he has walked to the Pamirs three times already (500 km), where he bought some dozen yaks, there could not have been any more reinsuring sign that we didn't have to be afraid. He has seen worse, he told us. And it was true. Short before reaching the pass, the sky cleared up and gave sight of the adjacent mountains, beautifully snow-capped. We had reached the top. On the other side of the pass, we could spot one lonely horse on the next plain: Our horse.

The rest of the day was ok, though the ride downhill on the horse was quite long and tiring. At 6 p.m. we had reached the plains again, to start our social trekking. Our guides had many relatives on our way back to the village. So, we stopped almost everywhere to have some caj, bread and other food. My digital camera proved to be an attraction, the women put on their best clothes for this photo-shooting. I will send back more than 30 pictures once I am back in Bishkek.

The next day led us to the Pik Lenin range, which we approached first with a Lada Niva, and then by horse again. The most spectacular thing were the river crossings on the horsebacks. I could not believe that horses could physically cross such a roaring torrent - but as seen in numerous Westerns, they can. The slippery stones though caused my horse to collapse sideways, resulting in wet shoes. Like a miracle, that was the only thing going wrong.

It was time to say goodbye to our hosts after this spectacular day. In a Lada Niva, we headed east to reach the border crossing Kyrgzystan-China the same day. We expected a town at the frontier, but we were disappointed, not to say shocked: The border post consisted of a huge parking lot for waiting Russian Kamas-trucks, transporting scrap-metal to China. The awaking giant cannot hold pace with iron-demand and needs to buy scrap from adjacent countries - to melt and further process it. So, the place bursted with a dubious athmosphere. Aggressive truck drivers, a shady 'hotel', a sketchy restaurant - rather not guaranteeing a safe and relaxing stay. In the middle of the night, we were woken up by an unpleasant knocking on our door - passport control. Luckily, the soldiers were not demanding us to bribe them - however, they insisted we should drink vodka with them.

We crossed the border the next day - and this time had to pay bribes, namely $50 due to some 'irregularities' with two of our passports. Anyway, we had arrived in China's wild west, Xinjiang. The largest province, with only around 20 million inhabitants, is inhabited by the local Central Asian people, the Uyghurs, and now, many many Han chinese. I'll cover this issue in a seperate article.
A taxi took us to Kashgar, the fabled Silk Road oasis. Here, we met up with Hasan, our local guide. With him, we had two amazing days in this strange city. He showed us the old Uyghur city centre and all the other sights of this place, and he took us to the Taklamakan desert, some 4 hours drive away. That's it, now you're informed. Tomorrow I'll visit the Sunday Market to interview some cattle-traders on their lives, dreams and - of course - their cattle.

This is - as you see - Mao Tse Tung. It is said to be one of the largest statues of him in China.

Schwartz - On a Voyage to an Untamed Land
[Update & Reflection]

"Put me on a ship that is sinking
on a voyage to an untamed land..."
-- from Don't Take Your Love Away by V.A.S.T.

1. My hoped for trip to Jerusalem may be postponed again due to my duties as a volunteer worker. Will see, will see...
2. Good news!!! I am getting quite chummy with some nice Palestinian workers here in the village -- enjoying many nights in the haze of a nargila. One of them has offered to take me into the West Bank. He used to take the village's volunteers there all the time, though he advises that there are areas I might not want to visit right now, for obvious reasons. Thus, I may be able to go to Ramallah, the current Palestinian capitol as soon as next weekend! (Both Israel and Palestine claim Jerusalem as their capitol. Specifically, "United Jerusalem," which includes all parts of the city, Israeli settlements and the Arab counties annexed to the municipality after the '67 war, is claimed by Israel, while East Jerusalem is claimed by Palestine. I'm not sure if Palestina also lays claim to the Old City, which was part of East Jerusalem when Jordan controlled that half of the city.)
3. Many congrats to Ben for his successful sojourn to and back from China!
4. Working on a new short story, to be entitled "Promised Lands." It's about a young man, named Joey Traveler, who leaps out of a window from one the Twin Towers (gruesome, I know) only to awaken in an alternate reality where the towers collapsed in 1993, and September 11th marked a bio-chemo-nuclear war between the US and its opponents. In this world he is called "Chameleon" (or as one character phrases it, "world-traveler, skin-jumper"), a chief of a tribe called the "Townmen," people who fled New York State's urban areas to the Adirondacks seeking a legendary "Promised Land." The Townmen are at war with those who live in the wilderness, called the "Greenmen," who are led by a mysterious figure called "Allat" or "the Goddess."

Since I'm on the topic of my stories, lately I've been asking myself, 'Shouldn't I be exploring the physical world rather than the imaginative world?' When I asked this question, I forgot the original ideal for which I even embarked on this journey: I call that ideal "the Theonaut," literally, "god-traveler," a new kind of explorer. You see, until we go to outer space or the deep oceans, all the great physical frontiers -- that is, those that would be open to me, a non-geneticist -- have been mapped and settled. There are no geographic Timbuktus for which to seek anymore. ...But there remain frontiers of the psyche: the imaginative, emotional and spiritual shades of the private self, which comprise the internal psyche, and the cultural, political and moral shades of the public self and the historical self of humanity, which comprise the external and universal psyches. I am here seeking to explorer and push outward all these frontiers: the internal through my craft as a writer of stories and reflections, and the external through my physical wanderings, studies, activism and, inshallah, as a journalist.

Sometimes the desires to explore internally and explore externally conflict, as they are conflicting right now. When inspiration strikes me for a story, essay or article, I find that I must write it immediately or greatly risk never writing -- but the same is true when I am inspired to go to a place. For instance, when I was in Philadelphia, bland city though it was, there was still much to do, see, experience, but I spent most of it locked in my college because I never acted on my impulses.

Ah well, at least these are the worries with which I am faced. I could be threatened with starvation, which I am not; I could be threatened with martial excess or suicide bombs... well, I am, actually. But fickle fortune has smiled on me so far to provide me with a life with enough time and resources to reflect.

Kashgar

After some amazing days in a remote spot in southern Kyrgyzstan, we four eventually made it to China. Just to inform the interested reader (and all parts of our families) - we're healthy, amazed, and absolutely curious about what's about to happen next.

Visit the site later, as we'll put up some more details.

--------

OK, nach einigen anstrengenden aber bezaubernden Tagen im abgelegenen Sueden Kirgistans haben wir es endlich nach China geschafft. Allen interessierten Lesern (und Teilen der Familien) zur Kenntnisnahme: Wir sind gesund, munter und neugierig, was die naechsten Tage so bringen werden.

Hoechstwahrscheinlich stehen hier morgen/uebermorgen mehr Details zur Reise, also - wiederkommen!

Schwartz - Birthright Israel Highlights & Photographs [Repost]

Some photographic highlights (and commentary) from my whirlwhind tour across Israel.

Originally published on July 28th, 2004, continued reporting of errors accessing my photographs have compelled me to relocate this entry to...

http://www.geocities.com/sword_of_nothing/Paarmann7_28_04.htm

If you cannot access the webpage by the provided link, highlight the URL and re-enter it into a new Internet Explorer window. If there are still errors downloading the photographs, please e-mail me, nyspaceman@writing.com or schwartz@thinking-east.net.

Schwartz - Update 8/1/04

1. Jerusalem trip got postponed because of a going-away party for a volunteer in the village and because of sudden artistict inspiration. I've written a new story, entitled "Pyretta Blaze." I'm very pleased with the results...
2. Still doing research for Latrun and village articles.
3. Planning a new trip to Jerusalem for this weekend.