WINDSONG: April 2012

Friday, April 27, 2012

SAECULUM (A Novel: Part 32) – DILUCULUM III

SOL OCCAXUS (Sunset) Monday, 19 September, 2011
CREPUSCULUM (Evening Twilight)

I. Friday, 23 September, 2011
II. Thursday, 29 September, 2011
III. Thursday, 29 September, 2011
IV. Sunday, 16 October, 2011

VESPER (Evening Dusk)

I. Sunday, 23 October, 2011
II. Sunday, 30 October, 2011
III. Wednesday, 9 November, 2011
IV. Monday, 14 November, 2011
V. Monday, 14 November, 2011

CONCUBIUM (First Sleep – Coitus – Rest)

I. Thursday, 17 November 2011
II. Sunday, 20 November, 2011
III. Friday, 25 November, 2011
IV. Thursday, 1 December, 2011
V. Thursday, 1 December, 2011
VI. Thursday, 8 December, 2011
VII. Sunday, 11 December, 2011

INTEMPESTIUM (Midnight)

I. Sunday, 1 January, 2012
II. Thursday, 5 January, 2012
III. Saturday, 7 January, 2012
IV. Monday, 16 January, 2012
V. Sunday, 29 January, 2012
VI. Sunday, 29 January, 2012
VII. Friday, 3 February, 2012
VIII. Friday, 3 February, 2012

GALLICINIUM (Cock Crow)

I. Sunday, 12 February, 2012
II. Saturday, 18 February, 2012
III. Wednesday, 22 February, 2012

MATUTINUM (Dawn Goddess)

I. Monday, 27 February, 2012
II. Sunday, 4 March, 2012
III. Sunday, 4 March, 2012
IV. Friday, 9 March, 2012
V. Friday, 16 March, 2012
VI. Friday, 16 March, 2012
VII. Friday, 16 March, 2012
VIII. Friday, 16 March, 2012
IX. Wednesday, 21 March, 2012
X. Wednesday, 21 March, 2012
XI. Wednesday, 21 March, 2012
XII. Friday, 23 March, 2012
XIII. Friday, 23 March, 2012
XIV. Friday, 23 March, 2012

DILUCULUM (Dawn Twilight)

I. Monday, 16 April, 2012
II. Monday, 23 April, 2012
III. Friday,, 27 April, 2012
IV.
V.

SOLI ORTUS (Sunrise)

DILUCULUM

DAWN TWILIGHT

III

Very little was said between the two men as they drove along the sharply twisting road that took them across the valley and up to the smouldering wreck of Alexander’s villa. It was only when the last of those bends was safely negotiated that Michael Mara turned to his companion. He rubbed his jaw which was still was very sore and any movement or pothole in the road had made it worse. In addition a gold crown had worked its way loose and he could feel its wobble with a bruised and swollen tongue. “Why did you have to hit me so hard, Dave?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, Michael but I was afraid that you might hurt yourself. You were really freaking out!” the agent replied as he kept his eyes straight ahead, focused on the gates of Alexander’s villa. He stopped the car just in front of them. Two grim-looking and gun-carrying gendarme approached and Dave pressed the automatic switch to lower the driver’s window.

“Avetene identification, s’il vous plait!” the older of the two policemen barked as the younger man circled the jeep tapping against the glass with his gun.

“Merci, Monsieur. Attendez ici.” the senior gendarme instructed and then withdrew to inspect Dave’s credentials. He then spoke into his walkie-talkie and scowled as he returned to the car. “Basta!” he shouted at the younger man as he handed back Dave’s card. “Ouvre la porte!”

The iron gates swung back and Dave drove the jeep slowly up the gravel road. He parked behind one of the fire tenders and turned to look at Michael. “Michael. You don’t need to do this. By all accounts it’s not a pleasant sight.”

“Dave. I need to see what happened. I need to be sure,” Michael insisted.

“OK! Stay close to me. The gendarmes are being very sensitive about our presence here and our involvement in the gunfight. It has taken a lot of urgent diplomatic manoeuvring to calm their annoyance. The National Park officials and firemen are on the warpath. This is this worst time of the year for forest fires and they have an exploding house spraying its crap over the area. Do not answer any questions, Michael. Is that understood?”

“That’s easy. I won’t be able to talk . . . Thanks to you.”

“As I said . . . I’m sorry. Now let’s go!”

Michael Mara followed the agent out of the car and up the narrow driveway towards the villa. The ascent was steep and the gravel surface was seared by the rivers of brown-black water that flowed in torrents down the hill to meet them. Everywhere, like wriggling snakes, fire-hoses jerked and squirmed. Most of the fire fighters still wore breathing apparatus and as they approached one of them handed a pair of masks to Dave. “Do you get a peculiar smell?” Michael asked as he strapped on the mask.

“Napalm,” Dave said bluntly.

Michael followed him into a tent that had been hastily erected near the burnt out shell of Mallory’s jeep. As they passed he saw that there was still a figure slumped over the wheel of the jeep, half-covered by a plastic yellow sheet. In the tent about ten corpses were laid in a row on the ground. Most were hideously burnt, with features missing or congealed by the force of the explosion. Three or four were were charred beyond recognition. On the other hand Rod Mallory, the meerkat Sancho and even the athlete Zoë were all there, all very dead. He could recognise them still. Zoë’s body was in two parts and Sancho had lost an arm. Ironically, Hertzog’s body was almost pristine it its completeness; it had been protected in the trunk of the car. He carefully looked at the other bodies. Most of the women all had peculiar, and near identical, defects of their left ear lobes, like the type he’d first noticed on Zoë and the blonde Scandinavian at the bath-house in Granada. The women were otherwise anonymous in death, he thought as they left the tent accompanied by a gendarme captain. There had been no sign of either Alexander or Isabella’s body. Michael asked him about their possible whereabouts. The captain, with a blunt appraisal, replied that the areas of collapsed masonry around the villa had all been checked and there was no sign of any more bodies. “Evaporated, I suspect,” he added with a Gallic shrug of the shoulders.

Michael knew then, as he stared down the valley, that Isabella, like Caroline, was also probably dead and that nothing he could do would bring her back. He hurried back towards the jeep with Dave in close pursuit and tore off the mask to suck in great gulps of air. His stomach heaved and he began to puke. One of the gendarmes from the gate laughed as he walked past.

“Are you ok, Michael?” Dave asked.

“Yes. I didn’t see Alexander’s body. Where is he? Is it one of the charred ones?”

“I don’t know. We all saw him falling over when he was shot, but the area he was in was partially obscured from our cameras behind some trees. Only Mallory’s and the girl Zoë’s bodies were recovered from the balcony area.”

“You mean he got away!”

“I doubt it. I’d say one of those bodies is his.” Dave pointed back towards the tent where the row of blackened corpses lay. The firemen were removing the dead man from the jeep and a large portion of the leather seating remained stuck to the charred corpse’s back as it was peeled out. “Dental and DNA forensics will confirm.”

“I didn’t see Isabella’s body either, Dave. Do you think she got away?” Michael asked hopefully.

“I doubt it, Michael. She had just gone back into the villa when it started exploding,” the agent replied a little hesitantly.

“But, there is some hope?” Michael latched onto his hesitancy.

“Perhaps! If she did, Michael, she was one lucky dame and . . .we’ll have to track her down. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

There was a long silence as thoughts raced through Michael’s head. Suddenly he pulled away from Dave and began to walk back towards their car.

“What are you doing, Michael?”

“Let’s go, Dave. I must contact Caroline’s brother in England. Bring me back to the villa. I need to make the phone call in private. I have to make some arrangements.”

“Sure, Michael but we don’t have much time.”

“We?”

“Yeah. I’m coming with you to Mexico. For your own protection! General Arnold asked and I volunteered.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

As the jeep drove through the gates Michael spotted through the thinning smoke that the lammergeyer he had seen earlier now circled high above Alexander’s villa. He thought again of Alonzo’s story of the sacred fire and the Hekamaad horse sacrifice in the high valleys of Nuristan long ago.

Monday, April 23, 2012

SAECULUM (A Novel: Part 31) – DILUCULUM II

SOL OCCAXUS (Sunset) Monday, 19 September, 2011
CREPUSCULUM (Evening Twilight)

I. Friday, 23 September, 2011
II. Thursday, 29 September, 2011
III. Thursday, 29 September, 2011
IV. Sunday, 16 October, 2011

VESPER (Evening Dusk)

I. Sunday, 23 October, 2011
II. Sunday, 30 October, 2011
III. Wednesday, 9 November, 2011
IV. Monday, 14 November, 2011
V. Monday, 14 November, 2011

CONCUBIUM (First Sleep – Coitus – Rest)

INTEMPESTIUM (Midnight)

GALLICINIUM (Cock Crow)

I. Sunday, 12 February, 2012
II. Saturday, 18 February, 2012
III. Wednesday, 22 February, 2012

MATUTINUM (Dawn Goddess)

DILUCULUM (Dawn Twilight)

I. Monday, 16 April, 2012
II. Monday, 23 April, 2012
III.
IV.
V.

SOLI ORTUS (Sunrise)

DILUCULUM

DAWN TWILIGHT

Francisco Carrillo sat in the small pavilion, which was situated at the far end of the swimming pool. From there, high on the southern ridge of mountains, which enclosed the valley, he had an uninterrupted view of the twinkling night-lights of the city of Medelin far below. Plumes of soft smoke drifted into the night air from a large cigar that he held with hard fingers. Behind him small children giggled and squealed as they chased each other into and out of the jet spray of the lawn irrigation nozzles.

A white-suited dark-haired man approached. “Papa.”

“Yes, Domingo. What is it? I thought you were in the city tonight.”

The younger man pulled out a chair and sat down facing the older man. “I have some –”

“Have you no kiss for your father. Remember your manners!” Francisco scorned without looking at his son.

“I’m sorry, Papa. Of course.” The younger man flushed as he meekly leaned forward and kissed his father on both cheeks.

Francisco smiled, satisfied with the formality of obedience observed. “What is your news, Domingo? It must be important to drag you away from the casino whores.”

“It is!” Domingo looked up to see that nobody was listening. His children and his wife were on the veranda of the house and he waved over at them.

“Well, get on with it?” Francisco’s tone was intolerant, as if fully aware of the charade being played out behind his back.

“Fabio Ochoa is at this moment on his way to Miami to be handed over to the Americans.” Domingo Carrillo announced.

“Shit. It was expected. We are lucky though that many of his functions have been already assumed by Rod Mallory. The cartels will survive.”

Domingo Carrillo could not prevent a satisfied smile from creasing his face. He gave a loud snort before he addressed his father with a mixture of pity and smugness, “Papa. Your great amigo, Rod Mallory was killed in Corsica about ten hours ago.”

“What happened? How do you know?” The cigar fell to the floor as the older man’s eyes flared.

“Jorge Quintana, one of my men, was there. There was a gunfight and an explosion. They were surprised when about to attack the villa of the man called Alexander. Jorge managed to escape and contact me.”

“Surprised by whom, Domingo? Alexander’s security.”

“No. Americano. Probably CIA or the like.”

“What happened exactly, Domingo?”

The younger man paused for a moment as if trying to control his thoughts. When he spoke again his voice was cold and analytical. “That moron, Mallory, apparently decided on a frontal assault. There were two teams on the perimeter and one hidden in the car that had brought him, waiting for a signal. Jorge and his partner, in moving into position, unexpectedly encountered an American special-ops team observing the house. There was a gunfight and Jorge managed to escape. Alerted by the gunfire, the house security reacted and set off a sequence of events that resulted in the loss of five of our men as well as Mallory.”

“All dead.”

“Yes.”

“Shit. What is your assessment, Domingo?” The older man slumped in his chair. He suddenly looked defeated. Too much was going against them.

“The fact that an American special-ops unit was at the villa worries me.”

“Their presence in Corsica might have been a coincidence. They may have been targeting the other man . . . eh . . . Alexander.”

“Sure,” the younger man said dismissively. “They might have been watching Alexander, but we must also consider that they might have been expecting our teams. That would imply Mallory was being watched and that creates a problem for us. They will have known about the meeting in Miami.”

“There was nothing to suggest that. You were there, Domingo.”

“We cannot take that chance.”

“No.” Francisco hesitated. He put out his hand and rested it on his son’s arm. “You are right, Domingo. We’d better discuss our future plans. Arrange a time with Miguel Mendoza and the others for a meeting.”

“Yes, Papa.”

There was a long silence between them until Francisco Carrillo broke it. “They are drawing in around us. We must counteract.”

“Who? The Americans?”

“Yes. And their Mexican fox cubs.”

“What do you mean, Papa?”

“There are some specific problems that Rod Mallory and I were discussing, that you now need to be aware of, Domingo.”

“Go on.”

“Since the arrest in June of our contact in the Juarez cartel, the supply of potassium permanganate from that source has dried up. The Mexican president, Vicente Fox is doing all he can to suck as much milk from the big Americano tits as possible, by targeting Mexican cartels with Columbian connections. Our customers are beginning to complain about the lack of high quality oxidised cocaine. The specific targeting of the production and supply of potassium permanganate is hurting us.”

“Operation Purple.”

“Yes, and now the shipment-tracing activities of Operation Topaz are beginning to bite as well.”

“Topaz, Papa? I don’t understand.”

“In October of last year, the International Narcotics Control Board announced the targeting of the international trade in the chemical acetic anhydride which we use to purify our heroin. We need to start fighting back, otherwise we will be out of business.”

“What do you suggest, Papa.”

“Mallory and I had begun discussions about a detailed plan to use his international banking expertise to discredit Fox. Remove Fox and we remove a major obstacle. Now that Mallory’s gone we will need to think of another way.”

“Good riddance to the faggot.” Domingo spat out the words. “I never trusted him and tried to warn you. Now look where it has got us.”

“Don’t you ever question my . . .” An angry Francisco Carrillo shot out of his chair and hovered over his son as if about to strike. “You had nothing to do with warning the Americans about Mallory, did you Domingo?”

The younger man did not flinch and stared with cold, murderous eyes back up at his father. “No . . . of course not . . . but, I’m not unhappy about his death, if that’s what you want to know. We should never have given so much control to a gringo. That was a mistake, Papa.”

For a moment it seemed that the older man would actually hit his son but then, just as suddenly, Francisco wilted. The fight had gone from his eyes. He was tired. “You . . . You are right, Domingo. Mallory was a danger to us and my judgement was faulty. I will inform the cartel families that you will be taking over the operational decisions from now on.”

“Thank you, Papa. I will not betray your trust.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not! In the meantime, there is much to be done. You had best get started.”

“Good night, Papa.”

“Good night, Domingo.”

The two men parted without the formality of an embrace and the older man sank disconsolately back into his chair.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Rihla (Journey 28): Göbekli Tepe, Sanliurfa, Turkey: Gods or Governance?

Rihla (The Journey) – was the short title of a 14th Century (1355 CE) book written in Fez by the Islamic legal scholar Ibn Jazayy al-Kalbi of Granada who recorded and then transcribed the dictated travelogue of the Tangerian, Ibn Battuta. The book’s full title was A Gift to Those who Contemplate the Wonders of Cities and the Marvels of Travelling and somehow the title of Ibn Jazayy's book captures the ethos of many of the city and country journeys I have been lucky to take in past years.

This one is about Göbekli Tepe, Turkey.

The scientific descriptive language of prehistoric archaeology and geophysical chronology contains such an overlapping melee of terminology that, for me at least, it often creates far more confusion than any intended clarity. In simplistic terms I understand that the Late Pleistocene glaciation or Last Major Ice Age ended finally around 11,000 BCE and at its end Neanderthals and large megafauna became extinct and adaptive homo sapiens hunter-gatherers occupied the savannahs and ‘open’ woodland at the margins of the receding ‘cold climate’ forestation. This era in human terms, the Upper Paleolithic, was associated with the refinement and development of specific purpose stone tools, and the social organisation required for the pursuit of large animal prey on their annual migrations and for the foraging of fruit and wild plants.

The transformation of a ‘cold-climate’ afforested landscape in the southern Anatolian peninsula to an open savannah would have taken thousands of years and the developing society would have mirrored the Natufian culture of the Levant. Pottery, polity, philosophy, protectionism and protagonism would have evolved it what was called the Neolithic Revolution and with it a requirement for a formalised structure of dispute resolution; with the known and with the unknown.

Göbekli Tepe from the South East

Göbekli Tepe (Potbelly Hill) is an elevated mound sitting at the apex of a two-finger limestone outcrop that juts into a barren landscape about 15km to the north-east of the city of Sanliurfa (medieval Edessa) in southern Turkey close to the Syrian border. Since 1995 excavations of five, so-far, of sixteen ground radar detected circular pits have exposed an extraordinary ‘temple’ complex of carved stone pillars and polished limestone floors that pre-date the pyramids of Egypt by 6,000 years has revolutionised our understanding of Neolithic society.

Or has it? Was the complex built for the Gods or Governance?

Cisterns and Platforms on Polished Limestone Slab

to Right of Entrance of Göbekli Tepe

I travelled to Göbekli on April 7th to see for myself. A road takes you through farmland benefitting from a new irrigation scheme and the humidity caused by the damning of the nearby Euphrates to a small rough car-parking area mid-way up a low hill. The Turkish antiquities authorities have not yet designated Gobekli as a museum and there is no entrance fee. There is a small hut to the left of the site-entrance where the local Bedouin farmers and now guardians busied themselves killing a goat. To the right of the entrance is a smooth-polished limestone floor with two large carved cisterns at the northern end, two low rectangular hollowed-out platforms in the centre, and four carved-out circular post-holes at the corners. Assuming that this access point was always the entrance to the complex it strikes me that this area was used as a butchery, either sacrificial or celebratory, depending on one’s assumptions of activities on the site on a sunny day 13,000 years ago. It would have been roofed.

Carrying on up the site you quickly come on the excavated main pit where the excavators have constructed a horseshoe-shaped elevated wooden walkway that affords a wonderful view of the excavations. There are two main pillars of stone-carved limestone weighing an estimate 60-70 tons surrounded by a circle of smaller pillars, with stone seating between them and a stone-wall surround. On the pillars there are the most exquisite carvings of birds, wild boar, leopards, foxes, snakes, bison, and on the large pillars, the animal-skin belt and arms of an anthropomorphic figure. The fact that these delicate, accurate and vibrant carvings were created by artisans using only stone stools is breathtaking. All of the animals are those of open woodland-savannah and not of the mega fauna of an earlier age and some of the carvings have been covered by crude wooden boxes to prevent erosion by the elements.

Stone Carvings on Pillars at Göbekli Tepe

One peculiar aspect to the carvings is that on top of one pillar and also on the edge of one of the cisterns near the entrance to the site is a series of closely bunched cup-shaped carved out niches. If the cistern area is sacrificial then it might not be a leap of the imagination to suppose that the cup hollows served to wash and separate certain animal parts, which were then transferred to be placed as offerings to the top of the complex pillar. I would also suggest that the two central pillars (? Perhaps a representation of a man and a woman) had no role in the structural support of the roof but were the central deities as in Egyptian, Greek and Roman temples of much later years.

The most extraordinary aspect to Göbekli is that it exists at all. The fact that it does is due to a deliberate backfilling (not destruction) by the society that created them when they abandoned the site circa. 7,500 BCE. Radiocarbon dating of charcoal deposits on the polished limestone floor date the origins of the main complex to about 9,000 BCE, but the site is thought to have existed since about 11,000 BCE.

Two further pits around the main central one have been excavated as well as the beginnings of further work on the northern and western margins. Atop the mound is a single tree and two stone graves of the Byzantine era.

Mining Site of Gobekli Tepe Limestone Pillar

150m to South East of Complex

I walked out the limestone outcrop to the south-east to see where the huge pillars were mined. Beneath my feet an endless amount of carved flint tools and arrowheads. Looking back at the Tepe I wondered at the incredible stone-age industry and organisation required to construct the complex and realised that if lasted for at least 1500 years to be backfilled rather than destroyed then it must have been very good at whatever function it provided for the hunter-gatherer society it served.

But was it for the Gods or Governance?

This is a question that 11,000 years later we still ask about our institutions and their purpose. In Göbekli’s case there needs to be an urgent granting of UNESCO status and the construction of a formal museum and interpretative centre to cover the hill to protect its unique and critically important discoveries.