the miracle of satelite communication
Sunday January 11th, 2004
locke > traceroute 81.255.24.153
traceroute to 81.255.24.153 (81.255.24.153), 64 hops max, 40 byte packets
1 dyson.cliq.org (131.161.246.1) 0.538 ms 0.538 ms 0.463 ms
2 ge-0-1-1-40.pa.via.net (157.22.13.131) 2.625 ms 2.628 ms 2.651 ms
3 f17.ba01.b003123-1.sfo01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.28.41) 3.336 ms 2.720 ms 3.214 ms
4 g1-0.core02.sfo01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.6.5) 3.661 ms 3.477 ms 3.458 ms
5 p15-0.core01.sfo01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.4.69) 3.462 ms 3.500 ms 3.316 ms
6 p14-0.core01.ord01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.4.186) 49.213 ms 49.291 ms 49.475 ms
7 p6-0.pr01.ord03.atlas.psi.net (154.54.2.238) 50.519 ms 49.218 ms 49.304 ms
8 Ge3-1.CHICR2.Chicago.opentransit.net (193.251.250.57) 49.356 ms 49.178 ms 50.65 ms
9 P4-0.CHICR1.Chicago.opentransit.net (193.251.243.213) 49.561 ms 49.326 ms 49.449 ms
10 P9-0.NYKCR2.New-york.opentransit.net (193.251.242.249) 84.206 ms 84.530 ms 83.873 ms
11 P11-0.NYKCR3.New-york.opentransit.net (193.251.242.210) 83.707 ms 84.681 ms 83.829 ms
12 P4-0.PASCR1.Pastourelle.opentransit.net (193.251.241.133) 158.822 ms 158.882 ms 158.730 ms
13 pos6-0.ntsta202.Paris.francetelecom.net (193.251.126.157) 159.55 ms 159.694 ms 159.342 ms
14 pos14-0.ntaub201.Aubervilliers.francetelecom.net (193.252.161.30) 159.446 ms 159.127 ms 159.197 ms
15 pos9-0.nrpoi101.Poitiers.francetelecom.net (193.251.126.169) 166.178 ms 167.138 ms 166.123 ms
16 pos9-0.nctou301.Toulouse.francetelecom.net (193.252.100.85) 167.603 ms 167.217 ms 168.64 ms
17 POS-1-0.TLSG1.Toulouse.raei.francetelecom.net (194.51.162.94) 172.82 ms 171.940 ms 172.301 ms
18 ATM-1-0-0.511.TLS11.Toulouse.transitip.raei.francetelecom.net (81.52.11.186) 167.470 ms 167.944 ms 167.686 ms
19 81.54.148.58 (81.54.148.58) 181.854 ms 181.65 ms 180.388 ms
20 193.252.234.196 (193.252.234.196) 177.609 ms 182.327 ms 195.756 ms
21 193.252.234.201 (193.252.234.201) 183.541 ms 182.712 ms 184.319 ms
this is what it takes for my packets to go from Lomié to Locke. How cool is that.
because I still love you all... man.
these are things. Photos of things.
Friday January 9th, 2004
I seem to be having some trouble with the Lomie.net set up. Locke has been all aces in getting to the bottom of the problem. Lomié will be online for real soon… well, at leat it will have email. I have had several people come up to me and want to know when they can start looking for husbands and wives (white ones preferably) on the internet. At first I tried to explain the limitations of the system that is going to be set up here.. but I soon gave that up. Now the answer is… you can’t do that from here.
Thursday January 8th, 2004
There is a baka con artist here.. that I believe I have talked about before, who tried to sell me honey this evening. Justin. So.. most Baka are very shy, totally nice, and don’t mix with the Bantu. Justin is… well, he carves wooden objects, hangs around town drinking palm wine, and is pretty much a con artist. He ripped George off. I have given him nothing, and plan on giving him nothing. He is a bit confused by me, but undaunted. Last night George and Jen were working and talking about CIAD politics, which are fucking brutal. I was working on my computer, chatting. A knock on the door. My favorite Baka, Justin… with another Baka, who was very shy. Justin wanted to sell us some honey. Now the thing is, I really like honey and have wanted some pure jungle honey… especially the kind harvested by Baka. They climb straight up the trees using vines and such… Tarzan style, people hand up burning sticks afterwards, and they wave the smoking sticks around the hive, reach into the hole in the tree, pulling out honeycomb… getting stung. Down below, people are making baskets out of leaves to hold the goodies. They come down, and leave as fast as possible (bees, apparently, are like sharks, and can smell the honey from far away, and come after it). So, this is what I want some of… but Justin came at a bad time, is the wrong person, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. When I told him I was working, and that he should leave because we weren’t interested… he got mad, insulted me, and then walked into the house to talk to Jen and George (who were oblivious to the goings on). I got mad, got up (I am easily more than twice his size), and chased him out. One step further, and I would have kicked some pygmy ass. I only like to fight people who are much smaller than me…
Oh, and speaking of people I want to hit, Alex came back triumphant. Motor, freon, and other assorted fridge repair parts and gas for the stove.. Someone told me afterwards, this was the most responsible thing he has ever done in his life. I think that Charly even threatened him bigtime before he left to get the stuff. Now it is a matter of seeing whether or not Izzy is a bit of a fraud as well. He so hypes his ability to fix everything, that I have my doubts, but I really want to give him the chance to solve this for me if he can.
because I love you all.. man.
these are people. Photos of folks
Wednesday January 7th, 2004
Charly got a new car. There are roughly a dozen vehicles in town, not including the logging trucks, busses (read.. vans), and those just passing through. Now Charly has one. It is purple. It is a toyota. It has tinted windows, and low slung suspension. It has furry seats. It is a pimpin’ vehicle. It will last about a month here before breaking down. I think he blew the speakers getting it down here. Seriously. Charly has a slick urban aesthetic, but lives in Lomié. I suggested that he raise the suspension, but I was told that would hurt the car in the long run. I thought… hmm. Long run. That is optimistic. Half of the people think: wow. GECEC must be doing well, Charly got a car… I’m going to put my money there. The other half think: wow. Charly got a car… I’m not putting my money in GECEC, he’s stealing it all to pay for a car. I think: selling bootleg whiskey, gas, and illegal cable is profitable.
We had an innaugural toast at a bar.. at the other end of town… you know, not to mix with the hoi polloi, and to have an excuse to drive. It is, of course, less than 150ft away…but we all drove anyway. Pulled a table outside, so we could drink and admire the fine automobile, which has been named.. um.. something in zime that means little girl. We drank, and toasted, and the driver had to drink soda.. much to his chagrin. Oh, did I forget to tell you that Charly doesn’t drive? Oh sure, he has a license, and he did drive someone else’s car back from the new years bash drunk beyond comprehension (I’m too drunk to walk, that is why I have to drive), but he bought the license straight up and drove the other car…well, about 150 feet. See, Lomié isn’t that big. It takes almost as long to turn the car around on the main road as it does to drive from one end to another…but people here make people in LA seem like hiking fanatics. I wonder where he will get parts when it starts to break down.
Tuesday January 6th, 2004
I am sending Alex to get fridge parts so that Izzy can fix it. They both really want to, and I really want the fridge to be working. So, I give Alex money, warn him, and send him off. After he gets on the bus, someone tells me that Alex has never had this much responsibility given to him before. Great. Well, if he fucks it up, I have enough to go to Charly, and get his endorsement of my evicting Alex.
when misery becomes normal.. is it tragedy?
Monday January 5th, 2004
CIAD politics are getting bad. CIAD, for those of you who need a refresher, is where Jen and George work. The newest update is that the current directrice Sorel, has decided not to come back to work after the holidays. The office is locked, and no one has the keys. The pisteurs from the Gorilla project have not been paid in.. well, a long time. No one can do anything. She might be in Yaoundé doing politics with George (not VSO George, but the head of the board of directors.. a powerful native son of Lomié). Who knows, but clearly, being here is a priority.. which is interesting since all of the funding may fall through as they have apparenlty, not lived up to the requirements from the donors. Sigh. Self destruction seems to be a great skill here abouts.
Saturday January 3rd, 2004
Surprise. Alex is back. Apparently he wasn’t really welcome at the funeral.. and even more.. It happened a day late, so he didn’t need to rush out there as he had isnsisted. They made him sleep on the ground, and generally ignored him. He isn’t drunk though.. so that is a plus. He did find out more about what happened to his sister though, and it is pretty horrible. She was hemoraging vaginally, or uterinely (is that a word?) for a few days before Christmas, but her uncle (where she was living in A’mong M’bang) didn’t want to take time away from the Christmas masses and other religious events to take her to the hospital, so they waited until after Christmas. When they finally took her, it was too late, and she apparently had a massive bleeding session, and died less than a half hour of getting to the hospital. My thoughts? One of three things probably happened. One, the least likely in my very unprofessional opinion, is that she had some biological malfunction upon reaching puberty. Two, she had an abortion that was badly done, and bled to death. Three, she was raped, and had been damaged in the process, and then bled to death… or any combination of the three. Not pretty thoughts, but hard to ignore. The tragic thing is that Alex attributed it to some family curse, and left it at that. I didn’t chose to bring up my thoughts on the subject as I don’t feel it is my place, or that it would help in any way… but damn.
Thursday January 1st, 2004
I got out of last night’s heavy drinking binge because they told me the wrong place. I mean, I knew exactly where it was, when I realised that it wasn’t where they told me it was, but still. I had my out. I had a nice dinner with George and Jen, walked to the salle de fetes, saw no one, and snuck home. Lame, but as I passed the SNV building (where it was) I saw Alex there (who was wearing a scarf in honor of his dead sister), taking with Izadore, and both were visiblly drunk from 60ft. I got home, and fell asleep.
Alex came by today. Charly promised him money to get to the village where his sister was going to be burried (because he missed the truck that was heading down)… but Charly was asleep. Would I give him money. The answer was.. not until he had talked to Charly. He went off looking for Charly. Charly, who had been drinking VEERRYYY heavily the night before (and Charly is not a drinker, so it must have been something to behold), could not be woken up. I agreed to give Alex money, but only on the condition that he understand that is was Charly’s money, and that I was helping Charly and not him. I feel like an asshole, but I am tired of being the Bank of Ben for Alex… and besides, he has been drunk for well over a week straight, and wouldn’t have missed the free ride down if he hadn’t been fucked up. So, we negotiated a price, I gave him money to get change, with instructions to go to the store and buy cookies and eggs. The store is less than 50 feet away. He came back with cookies and cigarettes. I don’t know how he managed to fuck it up in less than 50 ft…but he did. He took the money –forgot about the cigarettes, and left. The good news is that he is going to be gone for a week.. or at least, that is the plan. I don’t think he can finish anything he starts, so I expect him back sooner.
Oh, did I mention that when I expressed my sympathy, he immediately grabbed on to that as an opportunity to see if he could use my camera to film the event.. when I said no, how about the still camera, no? How about the DAT recorder? Still no. He would be getting great footage he promised. Nice to know that his sister’s death can come in handy. So what is worse… say no, or him asking?
Wednesday December 31st, 2003.
Well, today I spent most of my time figuring out how to get out of having to go to the new years eve party. See, most people here, or at least many, have been drunk for almost a week straight. Tonight, there needs to be a party that puts the end-cap on the holiday season. That party is being held, and hosted by the local elite. It is a big event, and I have been solomnly invited by a few people as a great honor.. then it is followed by a description of heavy drinking. This is something that I would love to see, but I really don’t want to drink… and actually, I don’t want be there, I just want to see it. Were I but a fly on the wall. Alas, I have to get my –getting out of something I don’t want to do- skills honed. If I can’t think of anything I may have to go. I am having a quiet dinner chez George early in the evening.
Tuesday December 30st, 2003
Lomie,net is now extant. Much thanks to Gwinn (for registering the domain…you did didn’t you?). Tomas, and mostly Locke’s efforts (thank you very much Locke), Lomie.net is alive. Now I can start to build on it. It is going to a while before I figure out what will work for people here, but a the very least, the Gorilla Habituation project site will go up soon. I am still having trouble with mail. I’m going to have to work on that.
Monday December 29th, 2003
Alex’s sister died today.. or yesterday. She died of what sounds a bit like hemoragic fever, or at least massive hemoraging. This is his actual sister, 13, same mother, same father. He is shocked and sad, which I can understand. She is the only full sibling he has.. although, he hasn’t lived with her for years, and I’m not sure how often he even saw her. The funeral is Thursday because no one is going to interfere with the holidays.
Sunday December 28th, 2003
Have I written about our Peace Corps volunteer down the road? I think he joined the Peace Corps and shipped over with some very distinct notions of going to show these people the right way to do things. I think he was under the impression that no one had properly explained the situation to the locals, and once they understood the situation things would straighten right out. I think he is far braver than I. He speaks little french, and has never left the US before. He is also my age, or a bit older, so this isn’t a starry eyed youth. He is working, part time in health, and part time for the John’s Hopkins project. Carey is the first white person to live in N’goyla. Carey has yet to take his shoes off and have his feet touch African soil. Carey asks lots and lots of questions, because he thinks there is ‘an answer’ to Africa. Carey would be shocked and saddened to find out that I eat bushmeat. We had a long discussion about the finer points of Star Trek. Carey, for lack of a better term, and I say this with affection, is a queen. He is Carey the Jungle Queen, and I think he would find that funny. Carey is the progeny of a southern, deeply religious (well, the american version of religious) and conservative familly. He has a strong and distinct personality, that I’m sure that helped him survive growing up. He has many of the same traits as conservative religious folks I’ve met (fixed view of the world, moral absolutism, etc) except his are on the liberal side. I’ve actually never really met someone who followed a liberal agenda the same way that the conservatives follow theirs. Well, he is either going to change, or leave. Both of those worldviews are equally anacronistic, simplistic, and useless here. I’m not sure if I am doing him justice. I like Carey, but that might be because I like people with strong personalities. I mean, that he even came is testemony to his spirit, that he is throwing himself into this full on is brave… and a bit suicidal. Anyway, Carey stopped by again today, and has been by a few times. I haven’t really wanted to talk about him much, as homosexuality is a very big taboo here, and I’m not sure what Peace Corps policy; and I don’t want to get him in trouble, even by accident.
Saturday December 27th, 2003
Saturday December 27th, 2003
Today was my first funeral. It wasn’t a real funeral. I was a remembrance ceremony, so I still haven’t seen a deuil… the ashes on the face kind of funeral. The patriarch of Brigittes family (I work with her) died last year, and there was a ceremony with lots of speeches, and a very catholic mass. To be perfectly honest, it was kind of boring. The best thing about it was some footage I got of kids singing, and the few minutes of women preparing the food... Other than that…whew organized religion is boring. Oh, I did get to spend some quality time with some of the Camerounian elite. That wasn’t very interesting either. Don’t get me wrong, everyone was very nice, the food was good, and the conversation interesting at times… but it was a bunch of people who are hellbent on having what I am walking away from. So, basically, it was polite conversation. The only part that got intersting is when I asked them why they keep looking to outsiders to build their country? I used the specific example of geovic… why did it have to be an american company doing this. Couldn’t some Camerounian hire the specialists needed to run this? There was vociferous agreement from a few, and a notable lack of comment from some of the most –everything european is great- folks. I realised that for some here, dropping the europe card is like quoting Shakespeare. It is a weapon of elitism… not that Shakespeare isn’t great (just like Europe), but it is certainly a tool for intimidation.
Oh, and Alex, who got a lecture from me the night before on working the funeral with me, didn’t show up in the morning as I has requested. So I took off without him… and we passed him on the way… much to his surprise.. and even more so when he waived and expected to be picked up, I told the person driving to just keep going. Not surprisingly, he found a way to get to the village where the funeral was (oh, did I forget to mention that? It wasn’t in Lomié, it was in a village about 15km away). He wanted to help, and I told him, when he shows up when I need the help, then he can help, he wasn’t going to help when it was convenient to him. Oh, and he has been pretty much drunk for 4 days straight now.
Friday December 26th, 2003
Today was a lost day. Apparently something I ate didn’t agree with me. Maybe my body is so unused to alcohol that rebelled. Maybe the combination of travel, visitors, and lack of sleep finally cought up with me. I went back to sleep after my guests left. I slept for a few hours, threw up for a bit, and went back to sleep. Tomorrow I have to go film a funeral for Brigitte (who works at the gecec). I hope I feel better… although after puking a bit, I feel much better.
-
These are some photos from the Gorilla trip..
photos from the Gorilla Habituation project: Karagua Photos from the jungle
Thursday December 25th, 2003
Everyone is drunk. Going on two days straight. We get a lot of visitors. Most asking for money, some just wishing us well. The days activities consist mostly of preparing food, getting water, and sitting around. David, a random american who is in town waiting for his friend before they go on a pirogue trip of their own.. although much more ambitions than our two day forray... stops by. We have a great, and extended chat. He is a writer… or aspiring. I have no idea.. but he is smart, and likes talking about abstract and large ideas. This is my christmas present.. a totally pretentious discussion with someone who comes from the same context as I do.. and doesn’t have a simplistic view of right and wrong. Anne is making gin and tonics. I drink and talk for a few hours with David. We cover politics (at the macro level), society, human existance, art, history… every pretentious utterly useless topic there is. It was like scratching an itch. By the time I kick him out, and return to paying attention to my other guests, it is almost dinner time. George is invited as well. We have a 5 course meal. It is fantastic. Two bottles of wine, one, actually good, the other descent. Salad with goat cheese to start. A squash soup with bacon on top. Porcupine curry. Vegitables with melted cheese on top, Fried bananas with melted chocolate on top for desert. They all go to bed early, as their bus leaves at 4am in the morning. I stayed up to put together a short video, that I burned to CD for them as a memento of their jungle trek… I worked until 2am on it… and got up at 4 to see them off.
Here we go again. I am back and relatively caught up. So we are all off to the races again.
Tuesday December 23rd, 2003
I get up at about 5:30, as do we all, since the village chief puts on the radio to listen to the news. It is very strange hearing about the performance of futures markets while in Karagua. After a breakfast of bread and tea… the containers of which we leave behind as a present, we head out. It starts off very well. A beautiful toucan sighting, and a monkey sighting within the first 30 minutes… and this before we even head into the jungle. We turn into the jungle. Wow. So, Kungulu, the other village involved with the habituating of gorillas, raided their forest. Karagua, on the other hand, is unmolested. Absolute magic. So first of all, when you leave the road, and cut into the jungle, the temperature drops a good 10-15 degrees, and the dampness mounts.. or is more noticable. The second thing that happens.. is I start to sweat. Profusely. I am a bit strange, but it is one of the things that I really like about trecking in the forest. I am totally soaked within 20 minutes. We continue hiking, and I continue taking pictures. I am starting to get a better handle on how to take pictures of the forest. It is still far to dense, and chaotic for my eyes, let alone a camera. We hike for what feels like hours, but is probably an hour or so… regularly seeing tracks and trails of gorillas. Then.. after some particularly fun stream crossings, the trackers are on to fresh tracks. One of the trackers is Baka, and the other Bantu. Both nice, and pretty quiet. The lead tracker is Baka. Older, or at least the forest has aged him. And tall for a pygmy… somewhere around 5 feet tall. We go tromping around and find the nest…apparently from the night before. The trackers ask us to wait for a bit, not mentioning the obvious, that a large group of white people will only hinder their search for signs of Gorillas. So, let me note again.. these are not the Rwandan, or Ugandan mountain gorillas. These are western lowlands gorillas, and they move fast. They aren’t habituated, and don’t sit still for tourists. The trackers come back to get us, and away we go… cross country. Well, country is a bit misleading. Through the dense jungle, not on a path, but heading through the thickest parts. Thorny vines, savage ants, mud, banches… sharpened sticks shooting from carefully placed traps.. OK, no sharpened sticks.. but it certainly felt like it. It was not easy keeping up with the Baka guide, who is half my size, born and raised in the jungle… and me with my camera, backpack and big ass… oh, and all of this has to be quiet. Sneaky quiet so that we don’t scare the gorillas away. An hour of this later, bleeding from a few cuts and gashes, we seem to be getting close. The air itself is different. The other animals seem like they are also holding their breath. We can hear them. Soft noises. We stop as the trackers try to get closer, and pinpoint their exact location. I prepare my weapon of choice (my video camera… which is better than my still camera). The trackers come back. The whole group is their, but the male has separated to the side a bit.. and he is our goal. The thing is, the group would be easier to see, but if we go after them without him seeing us, or being comfortable with us their… that leads to trouble.. and a few weeks ago the new head of the SNV in Cameroon came with his family, and ran scared when the male screamed at them (they didn’t even see him.. just heard him, pissed their pants, and left. Apparently, the yell is that scary). At this point, the trackers pick up speed, I follow but the others are having a bit of trouble keeping up. I ask the Bantu guide if he would carry my backpack, which he did. This freed me up immensely. I was now able to keep up with the Baka guide.. albiet he was much quieter. We are at the base of a hill, and turn to the left. The Baka stops. I stop. We listen. I hear the adult male almost breathing… but really, I just feel his presence. We continue along the side of the hill without climbing. The gorilla heads off. We see some fresh prints, and follow. At this point it is less about the Baka guiding, and more about the two of us tracking the gorilla down together… as the last two sets of prints I found before he did. I was also able to tell how fast the gorilla was going because of where the weight was being distributed in the print. I made my observations, and the Baka agreed. We continue to head a bit down and around the hill. The Baka stops again. Suddenly this time. My camera has been on for the past few minutes just in case. I hear the gorilla again. The Baka points. I don’t see anything. Damn jungle chaos is still to much for me. Then, I see it. A large dark shadow moving through the undergrowth. Maybe I have it on video, maybe I don’t. It doesn’t matter. He is off. We follow, but it is pretty clear that our game of cat and mouse is over. I don’t feel him anymore, and the prints are harder to find. The most amazing thing to me is how something so big can move so quickly through such dense forest hardly making a sound. We stop for a bit, and the others catch up. We continue looking for a bit, and realize that we have pretty much circled about half way around the hill. We rest and chat a bit. Apparently, the group has a pregnant female, and that slows them down a bit. The dominant male probably led us around the side of the hill while the others went in the other direction, because they were gone. Smart these gorillas. We discuss whether or not to continue after them today, but decide against it, as we are all carrying our bags, and we have been plowing through jungle for a few hours now. We find the trail again, and head to camp.
At the camp, the other two trackers are hanging out… having carried the food and other supplies with them in the dugout canous. We make lunch (rice and veggies), and set up our tents, and clean up a bit in the stream near camp. I am tired. It was only 4 or 5 hours of treking, but damn, half of it was in a constant crouching position, with constant acrobatics to avoid the thorns where possible. I also was getting a bit of grief for having taken off with the baka…which I can understand. The afternoon is over before we know it. Night falls very quickly in the jungle, and by 6 it is dark out. Not dusk, dark. We make dinner (rice with fish and veggies) and chat with each other and the guides. We talk CIAD politics, pay, and other stuff. Everyone is pretty psyched, it was a good day… and for the others, this was their first trip into the jungle. Even Mariacah enjoyed herself immensely. I mean, if this doesn’t effect you, nothing will. We are all asleep by 9.
check out
http://www.ciad.lomie.net
the quickie site for the gorilla habituation project...
as a replacement for more diary updates.
-hey, at least I'm throwing something up here, and not just leaving it blank.
for the new entries, can I make a general request? I need computers. Gwinn is coming to visit me in a month, and I am hoping that I can find 3 old laptops that she can take with her. Windows, Mac... its all good. I am currently trying to get some paperwork from the government that will allow me to bring them in without having to pay bribes, and it looks like it will work...so now, the only thing missing is.. well, laptops. If you have an old beat up laptop, or even an old, non-beat up laptop.. I will happily take them. If you were looking for a reason to buy a new one, maybe this will push you over the edge...
ok. back to writing more about life in the heart of the congo basin.
thanks.
I'm back from bamenda with a few good stories.. but they will have to wait until I get to catch up on my writing. I also have lots of pictures, and a few videos as well... although itts going to take me a few days, as I am being swamped by requests for work.