I feel the rush of wind throughout my veins, sending ripples to the tips of my fingers and toes. All my skin is shivering. But it's not the warm breeze swaying the maroon planters outside the glass so lazily that's doing it. And it's not the swaying afternoon trees by the curb. And it's not the lulling air conditioning inside, circulating the atmosphere constantly, artificially, which is doing this to me either.
Instead, I shake from the silent screams I know are still emanating from desert-covered village wells that now serves as burial grounds for so many of Sudan's non-Arab Darfurians -- where the water supply is now poisoned. I hear the wide sweeping gusts of sand along the Sahara. So far, so foreign, to these pretty cars cruising slowly through the intersections and past traffic lights. The closest we might come to hearing echoes of a similar scene is the now-laughable epic electronic dance number they still play at the club by Darude called "Sandstorm". And we might be able to comprehend a prairie whirlwind. But nothing could really capture the sorrow of the 400,000 that died in only four years in the Darfur region, or the half-century of civil war and rebel conflicts that we have had a hand in perpetuating. But listen well and you might just hear the aftershock. Eyes wide open. Tears well. Muscles spasm.
Because just knowing is such a struggle for some reason out here. It's so hard to find people who give a shit. So fucking hard to tap into what's really going on. And sometimes the only way is through the back channels. And it's strange how liberating it can feel to uncover the truth behind disaster and tragedy. Finally piercing the thick wall of bullshit our protectors and authorities set up for us is like reaching the surface again after an agonizing struggle with volatile waves on an ocean has kept you under and totally disoriented. Savour that first breath. Drink it in son. For it might be awhile until you get another.
"The discovery of oil in Africa can be a blessing or a curse, as is the case in southern Sudan. Against all odds and predictions, the Sudanese regime, backed by Chinese, Malaysian, and Canadian oil companies -- was able to forcibly clear out the populations of huge swathes of south-central Sudan in order to secure the way for the oil companies to begin exploiting the oil. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed or displaced by these vicious scorched earth campaigns -- in which everything is burned including crops, villages, and houses -- in the oil fields and the manipulation of relief flights was an effective complement to government air strikes and ground assaults."
The Sudanese government recruited Janjaweed from the poorest reaches of Sudan's north. Khartoum "released criminals from jail, recruited fighters from neighboring countries, and gave cash handouts of around $100 to anyone who would take up arms against Darfur's non-Arab tribes. The government provided the Janjaweed with new rifles and heavy weapons, and some of them even got uniforms."
"Beyond indifference and the ghosts of Somalia, responding to Darfur has an additional obstacle. Sudanese government officials, who were close to Osama bin Laden when he lived in that country from 1991 until 1996, are now cooperating with American counterterrorism authorities. The regime in Khartoum rightly concluded that if they provided nuggets of information about al-Qaeda suspects and detainees to the Americans, the value of this information would outweigh outrage over their state-supported genocide. In other words, when U.S. counterterrorism objectives meet up with anti-genocide objectives, Sudanese officials had a hunch that counterterrorism would win every time. These officials have been right in their calculations so far. As of this writing, near the end of 2006, the United States had done little to seriously confront the Sudanese regime over its policies."
--From Not On Our Watch by Don Cheadle and John Prendergast
I have just so many questions I want and need but can't really ask of that kid who says he's an ex-Janjaweed from Sudan. I don't know how much to believe, but he can't be lying about everything. Why would he? And I mean, I work with him, but I'm not really sure how I would go about asking. But just seeing him. Hearing the stories about cutting off the enemy and pounding out slaughter. About the thrill of having an army of your fellow rebels outfitted with American firearms (note: the U.S. is not allowed to sell Sudan weapons). Feeling where the bullet went into his chest was a shock. It was like his ribcage bent inwards. Just watching the transition, his own recovery and switch into materialistic North American society -- the finesse and silence -- says quite a lot on its own though. Girls love the dude.
But when you were shot in the chest in a foreign war and had two of your brothers fucking die there -- I can't imagine how hard it would be to try to fit in to a world where the hugest damn issue the kids out here are in emotional turmoil over is: whether it's a big deal or not that they kissed another girl and liked it.
One day we'll be sultans again, oh glorious Fur who have suffered so much.
Now go watch Leonardo DiCaprio in Blood Diamond to get a sense of modern African conflict, the influence of Western consumers and the culture of child warriors.
Or read more about an Alberta company's oil work in Sudan.
One of the hottest tunes of the season, they play this song at least twice each night at the club: Kate Perry "I Kissed a Girl"
(Or just in case that one craps out on us again, here's another vid cut with Degrassi the Next Generation clips -- almost more relevant since there are actually chicks kissing in it instead of the official music video which just teases the consumer, seeking controversy but not too much controversy, eyes squarely on your pocketbook... yumm)
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