Posts Tagged ‘stories’

My life has been a kind of a roller-coaster of events, a mixture of highs and lows, times of excitement and lulls of nothingness. I have struggled with despair and at other times have felt the kind of happiness that only a truly content man could feel. I’ve known love as well as hate, have risen to the top and have also felt the pain of being at the bottom. Sometimes I feel as though my whole life has been one constant battle and always will be and that any moments of peace that I experience are just lulls in that battle letting me catch my breathe before the next fight begins. Recently I have been pulling my way through a huge life changing experience, something that has a profound affect on my life and all of those involved and that has led to some hard decisions being made and also the self realisation of the kind of man that I am and in all reality will always be. I have had to open my eyes to a lot of things and also take stock of my past, my actions and the routes that have led to to this place that I now find that I am in. My life has been turned upside down and I have felt chinks in my armours starting to appear allowing things that I had pushed to the back of my mind to start seeping out and I have no real idea of how I am supposed to deal with this. So with that in mind I have decided to start writing again as a way of acknowledging certain events that I think maybe define me as a person and may give you and idea of what drives me, who I am and why I am the man that I am. I have no actual idea if you even read this anymore or even if you really care, but that is by and by as this is not for you – it is for me. What will follow will be a series of events in no particular order that have affected me in one way or another throughout my years, some good and some not. It will be an apology, an explanation, a story, a pouring out of my heart, a confession, a ride and most of all a look into my life that not many get to see.

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Spending as long as I have in this country serving alongside it’s local nationals there is one thing that I have come to learn about them and that is that they love a good story.

Here are a couple of my favourites:

The Invisible Man

One of our interpreters once told us about his uncle that had the amazing ability of being able to turn himself invisible at will. This wasn’t just some cheap party trick used to entertain kids or some un-proven claim – it was an amazing and un-explainable feat that no doctor, scientist or even religious scholar would be able to explain. It was a superhuman power, the next step in our species evolution, that all of the family had witnessed including our interpreter. Intrigued by his claims and more than a little excited at the prospect of our very own X-Files story un-folding before us we made some brews, pulled up some chairs and encouraged our man to tell us everything about this now almost God like person to us that we had never met.

He explained that whenever the whole family gets together for some event and the festivities start to slow down a bit or the meetings start to drag that they  can rely on his uncle to perk everyone up with a display of his powers. Apparently the man will sit everyone in a room on some rows of chairs facing towards the end of the room where there is a closed door that leads to his sleeping quarters. Once everyone is settled down in their seats the music starts to play and the magic begins. The uncle performs a series of dance moves that are essential to him being able to get his mind onto the correct level of enlightenment that will allow him to fade into nothing. The excitement and tension in the room grows at the thought of what is about to happen – it doesn’t matter how many times that they have seen this miracle they will always be amazed by it and feel like they did the first time that they saw it. As the music begins to fade and his intricate dance moves come to an end the crowd holds it breathe in anticipation of what they know is about to happen. With a clap of his hands and a smile at the audience the uncle twirls his way through the door to his sleeping quarters and shuts the door behind him. They all sit there in silence waiting for it. All of a sudden they hear his voice from behind the closed door and he tells them that he has done it again, that he is invisible and that no-one can see him. The crowd goes wild, cheering and clapping as once again they realise that they have been present for a modern day miracle.

Our interpreter, part of the young breed of men and women that will hopefully be integral in leading this country forward when we finally pull out, finishes his story with a slight fanatical look over his face and sheen of sweat on his forehead. After a moments silence where we all sit there and contemplate the amazing story that we have just been told and the privilege that we should all be feeling at being allowed to know about it our section commander speaks to the story teller. He asks if our man genuinely believes that his uncle turns invisible behind that closed door and suggests that maybe this is some kind of party trick – and not the best one at that. The terp smiles and says that he is often asked this after telling this story especially by Westerners. What is so hard to believe about it? His uncle is a respected man in the community and has no reason to lie. He turns himself invisible behind a closed door because the finale process of making himself disappear would be too much for their minds to handle if they saw it. Our commander asks then why once his uncle is invisible does he not come out of the room so that they can all see that he is not there? Our man sighs and looking at our commander talks slowly and patiently as if talking to a child and says that this is because of the same reason that we do not see him turn invisible. Should he come out of his room and talk to us our minds would not be able to cope with hearing his voice but not being able to see him. He stays in his room to protect us until he become whole again.

We all finish our brews, put our chairs back and carry on with our previous task of getting ready for a patrol – all thoughts of super hero’s gone from our minds.

 

It’s a Wind Problem

Breaking wind. We all do it. You, me, everyone. Even those  that say they don’t do it. It’s natural thing for our bodies to do and we shouldn’t be embarrassed by it – we should embrace it and it’s humorous powers. Toilet humour (excuse the pun) has it’s merits and a well timed fart at the most inappropriate of times has caused huge amounts of laughs throughout time. And it was a well timed breaking of wind moment by one of my men that led to the next story and bit of insight into the culture of the people of this country.

At the end of a rather long and arduous patrol one of our interpreters approached myself and another commander to ask for a private chat with the two of us. It turned out that during the patrol, where the terp spends most of his time stuck in the back of a vehicle, he had come under repeated gas attack from one of the soldiers stuck in the back of the wagon with him who was suffering from a slight wind problem. Time and time again throughout the journey his sense of smell had been exposed to some of the worst smells known to man which had caused him some distress and a lot of offence to say the least and now he wanted to make a complaint and also to explain to us why he was so offended by the actions of this man.

The action of breaking wind in this country is not just offensive but it is almost sinful. It is accepted that people do break wind but it is something that must be done discreetly and far away from anyone else and is never talked about or done in jest. The worst things imaginable can and have happened to people who have made the unfortunate mistake of letting one slip in the presence of other people. When asked to elaborate in that claim he went on to explain about the recorded (no-one can verify where this is recorded) case of the son and father who both suffered because of one moment of craziness where one of them forgot themselves for a minute and accidently let a silent but deadly one slip. It happened in a village in the south of the country some years back during a shura that was taking place. Apparently toward the end of the proceedings the young son of the man, without thinking, let slip a small explosion of gas that he has been trying to hold in for the most of the meeting. The uproar that was caused from the resulting smell is the kind of thing that has been known to start wars and destroy communities. A second shura was called for the next day where the offence would be discussed and a suitable punishment decided upon. The father in his shame and embarrassment at what his young son had done sat himself down on the ground and immediately turned to stone adding fuel to the already burning feeling of anger that was rolling through the village. The boy was in trouble now. Not only had he shamed himself and his father in front of everyone but his father had turned to stone from that very same shame. There was no need for a second shura now and the son was banished from the village on the spot and told never to return. To give you an idea of how deep the fear of trapped gas goes over here the boy apparently returned to the village some year later, knowing that the Elders that banished him would of passed on by now and hoping that all would be forgiven and he would be allowed back into the community. He was met at the boundary of the village and stones were thrown at him until he left again and until his dying days he will be left to wander the desert by himself with the knowledge that his one little slip of wind caused this. If only he could of held on for a little bit longer.

With the story finished the other commander apologised as he broke wind and left the tent to go and talk to the lads about cultural awareness and the dangers of dropping one in the presence of locals which left me to sit there and contemplate what lessons could be learnt from this tale.

And that’s it in regards to the stories. There are many more and at some point I will write about them for you to read.