Cuba ……. 2007


Cuba….a historic, adventurous, vibrant, magical, nostalgic, brave, atmospheric island.

The historic revolution has left a socialist legacy of great free medical care and education as well as glimpses of a vibrant sensuous musical culture that I suspect could not have flourished under capitalism. Everyone might have been too busy.

The American embargo meant that a wide disparity in income levels has not been available to the Cuban people; in fact most people live mega modestly. But isn’t this equality part of what the Occupy movement is about?

A visual spin-off is that wonderful big fin 50’s cars roam the streets and ramshackle Grand architecture from the 1870’s to art deco abounds. In the country large old, open backed farm trucks act as buses and memories of the revolution resonate not just with the young people in their solidarity scarves but also in the numerous memorials, especially those to the five martyrs in American detention.

Embargos are relative though. Boatloads of one western luxury, a good Cuban cigar, seem to have no trouble evading customs.

How could ambivalence not pervade this island? Its very own revolutionary hero, the romantic and good Che, started his career in government reviewing appeals and firing squads for those convicted by the revolutionary tribunals as war criminals. The great Che  ruled over capital punishment!!

Other discordant ambiguities –  the USA has its dreaded Quantanamo Bay prison on the island, and we spent a few nights at a Cuban Resort which I have totally repressed. No locals of course; charter flights and chips.

But essentially it is politics, colour, nostalgia, time- warp, architecture, vitality….. a very large Afro Cuban woman oozing out of a short short skirt and a minimalist top with all the joy and confidence in the world; an impromptu jam session in the street that makes you think you have stumbled across the Buena Vista Social Club at home; a daiquiri on a steamy night with the sound of a saxophone in the distance.

Iconic Havana, the French settled Cienfuegos, world heritage Trinidad (although most of the country seems UNESCO heritage listed!), the musical and revolutionary Santiago de Cuba, Venales National Park.  Ah! I could do it all again and again.

The cars alone are woth the trip

  The cars alone are woth the trip

Havana.... music, street theatre, bars, fabulous buildings – many restored. Lucky Luciano and Meyer Lansky had a plan to turn this town into the sin centre of the world with but were suprised in 1959 when Casto turned up. Hemingway propped himself up in a bar then – the bronze life size replica is all that remains. This is claimed to be the bar where in the 30’s the mojito was born! Drinking was obviously a long term occupation for in the 20’s  a bartender there invented frozen daiquiris and made himself a fortune; the evidence is his great mausoleum in the fabulous cemetery.

Somehow it doesn’t seem touristy… just a way to earn a dollar!

The streets are charming

And so are the parks

 The buildings delight

Who can blame them?

Cienfuegos  founded by the French in 1819 is an elegant city of fine 19th century architecture which now has one of the many Cuban UNESCO World Heritage listings. In this coastal town the pre revolutionary lot were working with the mafia to convert a particularly ornate wedding cake palace into a casino. Now talented artists can be found among the many galleries in the colonnaded square.

Here’s the hotel that was planned to be the Mafia casino.. a speedboat ride from Miami!

                                                               Political sentiment on show –Free the Five

                                                                                           More street art

Trinidad    another World Heritage cobblestone pedestrian town where life of the locals seems to chug along in traditional ways with old people rocking away in their chairs close to doorways to watch the passing parade. Music pervades again. Bands play in the main square to crowds of locals as well as tourists.

 The cobblestone street

                                                             Will it last the distance?

Santiago de Cuba has almost 500,000 people mostly Afro-Cubans. The revolution was launched here with Castro appearing on a balcony in the main Square in 1959.  Music comes from doorways and jam sessions in the happen in the street. Bacardi started the rum business here and you can take a little trip to see the remnants of the sugar plantations with their grand residences and slave quarters.

 Music, music everywhere

And then there is Vinales Valley and the small town there

                                               Another memorial to the Five who need to be Freed!

 The young socialists

 A small country town

Leave a comment

Filed under Photography, Travel

Libya – memories updated and images……2006

A desert Berber of the Maghreb

Libya is in a horror zone; thousands dead, violence dominant, cities ruined, citizens terrified, chaos abounds. And still the tyrant has not gone.

It seems almost improper to talk of my brief visit there in the face of the current civil war and the deserted hospitals with bodies piled up. But perhaps my pictures will provoke a better idea of a real country for those who have seen nothing of it but clips of the fighting.

In 2006 I went on a study tour of Roman North Africa. It didn’t start well as my travelling companion was careless enough to be knocked over by a car in Sydney while I was in transit visiting Uganda. So I was left with a bunch of strangers who didn’t dance to the same drummer. Still, it was an adventure, a chance to see what had been a pariah state although now Gaddafi was sucking up to the west.

As we approached Libya’s western border from Tunisia, the road was lined for a few kilometres with men selling cans. I was told it was petrol. Smuggled out of Libya with its overabundance of cheap oil I can understand, but what were the cans full of on the other side of the road? More work for Dr. Google.

At the border we were held up for hours before being allowed to enter because someone on the bus was suspected of once having visited Israel. No-one owns up. That same bleak border now houses thousands of “guest workers” from further south in Africa sheltering in makeshift refugee camps escaping the civil war.

Tunisia had a French, Roman, Moslem, Berber overlay but Libya? I didn’t go into the vast Sahara desert inland but clung to the coast; still it was parched and overwhelmingly Arab, male and in retrospect, the air was heavy with what was probably the heel of oppression. The following snippets skim the surface mostly of the past.

The theatre at Sabratha

Counterpoint to the featureless highway and the first bleak town of poor provincial Libya, Sabratha had form ~ a Berber, Phoenician, Hellenistic and later Roman  settlement. Sometimes drifting off to sleep at night, I conjure up the still majesty of the theatre at Sabratha as the sun sets on its sandstone. Now a UNESCO World Heritage site, its three colonnaded stories tower behind the stage testimony in scale and beauty to the grandeur of great Roman architecture. The dying sun turns them rose.

Gaddafi dominated Green Square – the museum wall

Green Square is the civic centre of Tripoli. On one side is the Med a few scraggerly palms along the front, on another the Italinate arched gallerias; across from them is the fine museum and the doorway to the medina. Here in front is the platform where Gaddafi used to stand to harangue the people and review his Empire. The medina has the narrow alleys of Middle Eastern cities; tradesman shape bronze; antiques and gold are sold. I scored some fine coral and trading beads. But Tripoli never felt alive to me and now seeing the depth of the anger the people have, I understand.

A street in the medina

A street in the medina

Glamour must be somewhere

Antique shops

Antique shops

Always the gold merchants

Star fish on sale

Leptus Magna is east of Tripoli and perhaps the greatest intact Roman archeological intact site. Situated on the ruins of a 7th century BC settlement, it reached its peak under the Romans when it was their food bowl and probably the shipping of lions and other exotics to amuse them.  The extent of the ruins is extraordinary, the market with its weights and measures stone, the empale and theatre, the forum and the goths. I was overwhelmed by the Great Colonnaded Street, the remains of statues and mostly by sitting on the high wall separating the almost intact amphitheatre and the Hippodrome, gazing out to sea.

Arch of Septimius Severus at Leptus Magna

I was tweaked to realise that 2000 years ago the Romans had expensive holiday homes by the sea. The Villa Sireen is a grand isolated estate replete with fine mosaics and a private bathhouse that must have wowed the guests. I could see the fine ladies in draped robes and fine jewels sitting where I propped on the seawall contemplating life.

Mosaics at the Villa Sireen

Mosiacs at the Villa Sireen

We stayed in Misrata, the scene of recent particularly bloody battles and I remember cheerfully catching a taxi to a cyber cafe where young men earnestly sought the wider world. Then on to Sirte halfway between Tripoli and Benghazi in the area where Gaddafi came from and where his tribe is based. It was the modern centre of his administration (his Canberra?) where he had his famed Congress tent. I am glad the photos I had taken before his huge portrait there are too dark to reproduce, ditto me speaking at the lectern from where he lectured the world.

The famous tent where Gaddafi met the world

Inside the tent with Gaddafi?

Continue reading

2 Comments

Filed under Photography, Travel

Uganda – more an essay than a quick one ….2006 and 2007

Kampala

The dinasours out front of the local shopping centre in Kampala seem weirdly symbolic

Mention Uganda and most people’s spontaneous response used to be Idi Amin or Raid on Entebbe. These days it’s Forest Whittaker playing Idi Amin. Those horrors were 25 years ago. For the last two decades President Yoweri Museveni has been the Big Man ruling this country of 27.6.million, a patchwork tribal population.

Uganda’s current long-term war in the north is still playing out in stalled peace talks in southern Sudan. The foe is the guerilla Lord’s Resistance Army, a vicious and wacky lot who kidnap, terrorise and enlist children in the name of God. Each night, thousands of children march long distances to safe havens to avoid abduction.  1.8 million people are living in camps.

All this is a long way from Kampala – at least 8 hours by road. In this capital of 1.2 million, life is a series of visual contrasts as economic development rushes into the city.  The blue glass high rise of the social security building is fringed by streets where vendors loll on the pavement; a young boy stands patiently behind bathroom scales waiting for a rare customer; men in suits use phones at mobile kiosks.

Phone calls to make

Magazines for sale

 

 

 

 

 

 

And these are the magazines

A bold construction program is delivering hundreds of new hotel rooms for CHOGOM in November. The Aga Khan’s Serena hotel is up and running with its strange mix of Rajasthani/African/Islamic architecture. The homeless Karamajong children from the warrior tribe in the west have been rounded up off the streets as part of the tidying up process for the Heads of Government. Main roads are being repaired.

An abundance of prooduce

Women in the markets

Chickens for sale

and chillis

Markets everywhere in the third world are the heart of a city… beats a mall any day!

New oil exploration is another heralded bow to the economic fiddle while in parts of the country up to 60% of people still live in traditional huts without access to safe water or electricity. Though back in 1956 when Princess Elizabeth came to visit Murcheson Falls, she had all mod cons in a purpose built house. we were lucky enough to stay in the charming house and hear the hippos pass during the night.

And the Princess’ mod cons.

The house built for Princess Elizabeth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 7 hills of Kampala bear absolutely no resemblance to those of the Eternal City but they are as symbolic.  They demonstrate the various lifestyles and beliefs systems that shake along together in this city. A grand mosque gifted by the Saudis, a Catholic cathedral, a Hindu temple, the city centre, an enclave of prestige bungalows each with a verdant garden (and all guarded by armed security)  – each crowns a different slope.

Kampala is a city where differences seemingly live serendipitously together. And there is an Art Gallery.

Modern art with a gun.

A local sculpture

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The languid air, soporific in its humidity, weaves around traffic chaos and pollution spewing cars. Lush tropical vegetation, banana palms, frangipani, jacarandas, bougainvillea, flame trees, are punctuated with dry red dust rising from compacted footpaths and median strips.

Nature isn’t leaving the city centre without a fight

There are many rich and middle class people here both Ugandan and ex-pat, many of whom are part of the army of aid personnel. These enjoy the fringe benefits of any sophisticated city, from supermarkets and bars to a French patisserie and a Belgian butcher all set in the sawtooth streetscape of many developing cities. The affluent can even enjoy a nearby resort on the shores of Lake Victoria with horse riding and the largest swimming pool in East Africa.

But here’s another example of the impact of change, the lake has receded about 100 metres in the past two years following the construction of a damn at nearby Jinja, the fabled but now questioned, mouth of the Nile.

Outside this world of bars and pools, compare the life of the vast majority of Kampalans struggling to find a living income.  There is sadness in the eyes of one as he talks of a dead baby daughter killed by witchcraft and his long term employer who would give him no money to get a doctor. Another man’s eyes wash with emotion as he speaks of “the brothers” who are still suffering in the war -torn north. At a busy crossroads, a boy stands with his blind grandmother day after day, charity their only hope for survival. The slums of Kampala remain.

Yet these people, subdued by a history of horror, have a quiet dignity. The courteous greeting and genuine enquiry after family wellbeing slows one down to the core elements of life. This is a marked difference to the bustle of western cities. If nothing else the local innate style in the wearing of beautifully pressed, mostly second hand clothes, makes most westerners look dowdy.

Outside the bustle of town, the site where the kings of Buganda are buried boasts a large grassed hut. The Buganda, a Bantu people, are the largest tribe in Uganda with 16% of the population mostly settled around Kampala. Work is slowly proceeding on restoring grass roofs and re-matting boundaries in anticipation of CHOGOM when the Queen of England will visit the tombs of the kings of Buganda. She will not be allowed to pass the fence of spears however, unless she too is drawn into the mythical forests where the local dead kings now dwell.

The grass hut of the Bugandan kings

Work on the restoration is not going at a cracking pace with some suggestion that UNESCO funding has been siphoned off. The local paper is full of the current audit of central government departments where vast monies are unaccounted. A recent scandal fingered the Kampala City Council and every urban pothole is a reminder that corruption is a fact of business in many worlds.

These are boom times for some. In the café at the Sheraton, tables are occupied variously by 4 well-tailored Indians, a glamorous blond woman with a Clark Kent look-alike, a pair of elegant African women, and an intense group of English and Africans. A sign of the times is the laptops open and at work on every table.

Many more Australian tourists will find their way to Kampala as a middle aged group, one boasting the Tamworth County Music festival T shirt, advised me. The city is a jumping off ground for the truly intrepid who want to see the gorillas in the mist of the Mountains of the Moon, a day’s journey to the west of the capital at Biwindi Impenetrable National Park.

And cows on the road

Of course there are baboons

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you look closely, you can see the elephant

If you are a wildlife tourist, most of the big game was wiped out by vicious slaughter during the Amin regime but it is returning to Queen Victoria National Park and Murcheson Falls.

In the national parks the animal numbers are growing again

Churchill called Uganda the Pearl of Africa. More tourists would help buff its dulled lustre and provide welcome income for many. Don’t wait until the hordes come, get there early!

Leave a comment

Filed under Photography, Travel