latenight bemused musings on war, evacuation, and the gossip of volunteers

coming to asmara is a bit of a joke. not only because i can't help feeling pretentiously comical as i sip on macchiatos and nibble on pastries in some trendy cafe or other, frequent italian cinemas presenting european film festivals, and visit art shows alongside sunny courtyards lined by palm trees. you can't help but think asmarino vsos live in a parallel eritrean universe. and you may feel the urge to haughtily scorn them for their cushy existence. all the while sipping on a macchiato yourself. and having a good laugh all the same.

that's not to say life is a cushy joke of a bubble for all asmarinos. for real asmarinos, that is, eritrean asmarinos, i would say it's certainly not a cushy joke of a bubble. it's a life of an almost orwellian and omniprescient "national service," of constant fear of the state's instruments of force, a life that is always being monitored, permitted, denied, reduced to a series of papers of permission and rejection, of the certainty of de facto imprisonment and the added possibility of de jure imprisonment, all set against the backdrop of constant threat of war, and the hope against hope of a better life, of escape, or of "the peace to come," a refrain you hear often, we are waiting for the peace to come.

coming to asmara is also a joke because you hear the gossip of the asmarino vsos. having nothing to do but sip on macchiatos and nibble on pastries, they turn to gossiping for entertainment. when i'm in agordat, i don't hear about anything, i'm even more cut off from gossip and information in a country that is already so, and that's including the population's awareness of their country's own everyday affairs. maybe that's not exactly a good thing, to be more cut off. but after coming to asmara multiple times over the course of a year, and hearing the same warnings and gossip and alarm bells sounding every time, i'm tempted to dismiss it all as just that, gossip. one thing's certain, in eritrea, no one knows anything, except maybe the government, until it's happened. until it's hindsight. and even then you might not know. sure, people will speculate, talk, word will get around, conflicting theories will arise, war will start after the rainy season, no no, before the rainy season, but in the end no one knows anything. maybe this isn't too different from the situation in many or all countries. but it seems a bit more pronounced here.

so this time around, i heard the familiar things. war is imminent, we are going to be evacuated, ethiopia is building settlements in badame (eritrean territory, as recognized by the findings of the boundary commision following the algiers peace accord, that ethiopia refuses to recognize as such). the badame claim was made in the state-run and only periodical in eritrea, the eritrea profile, and may well be true. i don't know. perhaps i'd have to get my ass down to badame to find out. i'm not planning on it. what is certain is that asmara residents who live near the airport have been hearing mig fighter jets flying overhead for several days. and this at a time when there is no petrol. certainly the migs have petrol. the 24km wide temporary security zone (TSZ) that separates eritrea and ethiopia is all on eritrea's side of the border, as opposed to split down the middle, and from what i've heard, ethiopian troops have been well inside the TSZ, meaning eritrean territory, for a long time. the 'situation' has been at an impasse, with ethiopia refusing to recognize the "binding" findings of the boundary commision, and the UN, remaining its useless, justless, big-power dominated self, rather than compelling ethiopia to abide by its own accords, is telling eritrea to dialogue and redefining the border as "disputed."

at least that's the opinion on the eritrean street.

meanwhile volunteers continue talking of imminent war and evacuation, just as they have done for the past 2 years, thus far their prophecy remaining unfulfilled, fortunately for the people of eritrea and ethiopia. (on a side note, i hate it when volunteers speak of the pros and cons of war from the perspective of their own white lives. "yeah, wouldn't it be great to go back home, but it would get old fast." or some such statement where the lives of the people most affected by war, eritreans and ethiopeans, are unmentioned and implicitly disposable.)

not to be too harsh on the volunteers...of course they will calculate the personal into the geopolitical, but do they have to do it in such a crass way? a way that mirrors the disdain with which western powers, particularly america, treat the lives of ordinary people throughout the (third) world? but that's a whole other 73 entries.

yesterday, as we were sipping macchiatos and discussing the state of our always small worlds, the question arised, exactly what will we do in case of evacuation? but the question pertained to valid logistical concerns. there is no petrol. except for the migs flying around scaring people. and since the migs have the petrol, vso has been turning to its contingency diesel to keep operations up and running as usual. but the contingency diesel is supposed to be used for our evacuation, in case the need arises. so...following a linear line of thought, if all the talk turns to reality and there is war, exactly what will we do? die, was my masochistically fun answer. eventually, added as an afterthought, to lend some philosophical cred to the masochism.

war. evacuation. it's all talk to me now. sure, talk to be wary about. but talk all the same. and talk that's not new. it's been going on for over 2 years. and what can you do? live in fear, get out, or get on (with it). i'm getting on. (if i can find a bus.)

floating

[blues from a buffered up email]

in the six weeks since i last read an email i thought i had aged at least 2 years. but after reading the 33 emails (thank you) waiting in my inbox i still feel sad lonely wistful and oh-so-far-away-from-the-world as i chronically did last year after long-awaited internet rendezvous. maybe i'm not as wise as i thought. or maybe sadness is there for the ages. [note: this is not meant to discourage any incubating emails.]

a cyber beginning which belies my previous unsad 6 weeks. which i will tell in summary and in reverse. because i walk backwards these days. and with my eyes closed when forwards.

there's still a petrol shortage here. maybe it went away and came back, i don't know (haven't left town), but it's as strong as ever now. this meant finding a ride into asmara (to attend a vso maths teachers' conference) was a challenge. after hours of walking and waiting, walking and waiting, and taking shelter beneath a shack on the side of the road waiting for a kind driver to give me a lift, i was ready to call it a day and go back home. but shortly thereafter my knight in shining armor drove up in a brand new toyota landcruiser. it was definitely the best catch i've had in eritrea, no riding in the back of a truck amongst a herd of goats ducking tree branches this time around. no no, i rode in style today, sleeping, waking for lunch (paid for by the driver no less), and feeling absurdly pleasant and pleased as we rode up the mountains, cool highlands' breeze blowing in my face.

the last 6 weeks were dominated by ramadan, which was beautiful. i almost felt "one with the people," or something cheesy like that. but maybe it wasn't all cheesy and in my mind: a couple of days ago, while having a drink with a student, a white man walked up to me and asked, "are you eritrean?" and i think he was actually being sincere. maybe the heat had gotten to his head and damaged his perceptions and general orientation.

fasting in 45C temperatures while teaching crowded classrooms full of 80+ rowdy students was slightly uncomfortable at times. on the bright side, i pissed blood (knowingly) only twice. as for unknowingly, i didn't keep track. i also got sick on eid as i stuffed my unpracticed stomach with entirely too much food. but that was part of the masochistic fun that i've come to love so dearly.

admittedly, when i first returned to agordat (in the beginning of october), i considered running away. vaguely. i hadn't yet learned to love the masochistic fun so dearly. but i didn't run. i'm still here. sweating, breathing, living, teaching, loving, learning and generally feeling quite content. at being folded away, far away, forgotten and forgetting. i feel like i'm "riding the waves." this way and that way. i feel like i'm floating.