24 March 2010

Bibliography: books on Ethiopia

Guide and Maps

Bocale, Massimo e Piera Barchetti: "Etiopia", (Firenze: Polaris, 2008). Libro informativo ma pesante da portare in viaggio.

Travelogues


History and Culture


From inside the country

Kapuszinski, R. : "The Emperor", (London: Penguin Books, 1983). The grim endgame of Haile Selassie. The Ethiopan Emperor's decline and fall.

09 March 2010

Partire, tornare o ...viaggiare? Ali e radici della mia vita fino ad ora.

Vivo a Bruxelles. Perché? Ne parlavo con il mio amico Marco De Andreis, che ci ha vissuto anche lui fino a qualche anno fa. Forse me ne andrò un giorno, ma non sarà, credo proprio, per tornare a Roma come ha fatto lui. Come Marco, anche io detesto Roma quando ci sto. A differenza di lui però, la continuo a detestare anche quando non ci sto.

Quando ci vado mi spazientisco per mille ragioni, e non vedo l'ora di ripartire. Il momento più bello delle mie visite è la corsa in taxi o trenino verso l'aeroporto. Allora mi rilasso, e penso che anche questa volta l'ho sfangata. Bruxelles, si capisce, non ha neanche un centesimo dei tesori d'arte di Roma, e neanche il sole, e neanche i prodotti freschi al mercato a prezzi bassi, e neanche il mare caldo d'estate a pochi chilometri di distanza d'estate, e neanche le montagne per sciare a pochi chilometri di distanza d'inverno e neanche la pajata, l'amatriciana e la coda alla vaccinara.  

E allora? Perché preferirla? Perché Bruxelles è più ordinata, vivibile, culturalmente attivissima, a dimensione d'uomo, e soprattutto cosmopolita quanto Roma è provinciale.

Insomma sono destinato a restare un emigrante per sempre? E perché no?

Ho passato dieci anni negli USA, cominciando con quattro alla School of Foreign Service della Georgetown University dove ho conseguito con la lode una laurea in relazioni internazionali (studiando politica, strategia, economia, diritto internazionali, allora in Italia non esistevano università che se ne occupassero).

Durante quel periodo passai anche alcuni mesi in Polonia, quando c'era il comunismo, e li racconto in questo libro.

A quel punto mi sono convinto che quanto avevo appreso negli States sarebbe stato utile al mio paese (vero) e quindi apprezzato dai miei compatrioti (non sequitur). In Italia, sul piano professionale, ero oggetto di invidia e non di stima e tanto meno di ammirazione.

Andai all'università di Roma per farmi riconoscere il titolo di studio, ma con la mia laurea un arcigno professore della facoltà di Scienze Politiche mi disse che poteva iscrivermi al terzo anno. Cominciamo bene, mi dissi, ma non mollai.

Tornai in USA e dopo sei anni al M.I.T., completai un corso di Dottorato di Ricerca (Ph.D.) in studi strategici (anche questi, allora, non c'erano da noi). Nel frattempo avevo lavorato - cosa che gli studenti universitari in America fanno sempre, anche se non ne hanno bisogno - prima con mansioni più semplici e poi via via come assistente, ricercatore ed infine insegnante.

A 26 anni di età tenevo al M.I.T. il primo corso universitario tutto mio sulla proliferazione nucleare, con nome, cognome e stipendio miei. Mi invitavano a conferenze in tutta America,  pubblicavo i miei primi articoli (con il mio nome e cognome, mai e poi mai un professore si sarebbe sognato di metterci il suo). Già prima di finire il dottorato ero, per così dire, entrato nel giro, e da solo, senza conoscenze, parentele o amicizie con chicchessìa.

Decisi comunque di riprovare in Italia. Non presso l'università pubblica, dove non avevo alcuna speranza di entrare nelle roccaforti del baronato, ma in una fondazione privata. Insistendo molto riuscii ad  intrufolarmi per la porta di servizio nel principale istituto internazionalistico italiano, l'istituto Affari Internazionali, dove imperava ed impera ancora (2010) un'oligarchia ferrea ivi installatasi alla fine degli anni sessanta (sì, sessanta!). Apprezzavano il mio lavoro e mi pagavano benino, ma ero sempre il ragazzo di bottega da tenere, appunto, in bottega, e non il giovane collega da lanciare in pista.

Cercai appigli anche presso altri centri di studio, che però in Italia erano di due tipi: alcuni legati a personalità singole, solitamente geriatriche, anzi direi da museo di storia naturale. Una volta presso una fondazione politica romana intestata a Ugo La Malfa, un dirigente ultra settantenne, ex ministro, mi disse che stava alla loro generazione prendere le decisioni importanti, non ai quarantenni idealisti che pretendono di cambiare il mondo. Non potevo credere alle mie orecchie, ma ci dovevo credere.

Mi veniva da pensare che in realtà il mondo negli ultimi decenni lo hanno cambiato i trentenni se non i venticiquenni: Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Tim Berners-Lee, Jeff Bezos negli anni ottanta e novanta e Jim Wales, Larry Page, Sergey Brin, Mark Zuckerberg e loro simili più recentemente. Avrei dovuto dirlo al vecchietto ex ministro, ma mi trattenni.

Altri centri studi erano invece legati a filo doppio ai partiti politici, con una loro linea ben precisa di politica estera. Né dai fossili né dagli apparatchiki ebbi mai la possibilità di pubblicare. Qualche volta andai in televisione come “esperto”, ma solo perché avevo un amico alla RAI, non perché qualcuno apprezzasse quello che avevo da dire.

Provai anche presso una prestigiosa università privata di Roma, la LUISS, ma un altro ultra settantenne che teneva corsi nelle mie materie mi offrì un contratto di insegnamento che mi pare si chiamasse "integrativo": in pratica il professore di ruolo decideva il curriculum, faceva un paio di lezioni, restava titolare del corso e prendeva quasi tutti i soldi, mentre io avrei dovuto fare tutto il resto: lezioni, esami, colloqui con gli studenti ecc.

Dovunque ero considerato il “junior”, il ragazzino di bottega. Dopo un po' di anni di questa deprimente trafila ero pronto a ripartire.

Feci un concorso di medio livello per il segretariato internazionale della NATO, lo vinsi e mi trasferii a Bruxelles. Ci passai oltre sette anni e ne fui gratificato, professionalmente ed economicamente, anche se il lavoro col tempo diventava ripetitivo. Poi siccome allora i contratti dei funzionari erano tutti a tempo determinato dopo due rinnovi mi rimisi a cercare. Provai a restare alla NATO. Per superare la routine feci vari concorsi per posti un centimetro più alti di quello che avevo, ma siccome a quel livello la cosa diventava politica, ed io dietro di me avevo un non-paese che non mi sosteneva, non ci riuscii. Mi disturbava vedermi passare davanti stranieri meno capaci di me solo perché i loro governi, i loro ministeri, si davano da fare per sostenerli ed i miei no.

Ebbi comunque varie offerte di lavoro, soprattutto nel settore privato (da tedeschi, americani, perfino indiani, ma mai da italiani) che mi hanno continuato a trattenere qui a Bruxelles. Che non sarà un capolavoro architettonico o urbanistico, ma ci si sposta abbastanza facilmente, si parcheggia ovunque e le macchine si fermano al semaforo rosso e alle strisce pedonali, che puoi attraversare ad occhi chiusi... 

E poi è una città che si trasforma, vive. Molte brutture degli anni sessanta stanno sparendo per dar spazio a moderni palazzi di indubbio gusto e funzionalità. Come del resto vivono e cambiano le grandi città: Parigi, Londra, Berlino, non Roma.

Morale: ho fatto male a lasciare gli States? Professionalmente sì, di sicuro. I miei compagni di università del M.I.T., anche europei, che sono rimasti là, magari diventando cittadini americani, sono professori, amministratori delegati, ambasciatori, direttori di istituti. Ci tornerei? Non credo, non mi piacciono le minestre riscaldate. E poi da “junior” che ero, in quattro e quattr'otto ormai sono diventato un “senior”, anzi di più, insomma troppo vecchio per ricominciare una carriera. Non so come ma non ho mai avuto l'età giusta! 

Non ho figli, che io sappia, ma se ne avessi gli consiglierei di guardarsi bene intorno tous azimouts prima di decidere alcunché. Di imparare svariate lingue straniere. In Italia siamo un disastro con le lingue e la cosa ci danneggia enormemente. E poi di non fermarsi mai troppo tempo nello stesso posto, né geografico né professionale. Di essere curiosi ed avere il coraggio di rischiare ma senza fare i Don Quixote della situazione e meno che mai i Sancho Panza.

Restare per sempre a Bruxelles dunque? Forse, anche se dopo quindici anni si è esaurito un po' l'effetto novità, la curiosità. Ma allora dove? Potendo scegliere, andrei in Asia, in una cultura diversa, ricca, nuova e per questo stimolante, in un paese che si stia costruendo un futuro, possibilmente democratico, e che non viva del fatto che i problemi non si risolvono “si pperò noi c'avemo er Colosseo”. Se avessi uno straccio di spunto, una opportunità lavorativa, una partner, lo farei subito. Tanto la pasta c' 'a pummarola 'n coppa, grazie alla globalizzazione, si trova dovunque. E forse lo farò comunque, anche senza lo spunto. Per invecchiare lì?

Non necessariamente, e qui vengo alle considerazioni finali: si parla tanto di identità, di radici, ma io non sento veramente di averne: sono italiano, ma mi sento anche molto americano, un po' scandinavo, un po' mitteleuropeo. E c'è tanto mondo da godersi nei così pochi anni che ci stiamo. Penso che potrei diventare anche molto indiano o cinese col tempo. In fondo il futuro è in Asia orientale, che piaccia o no.

Per poi magari andare a morire su qualche isola tropicale - tanto oggi c'è internet e di Robison Crusoe non ce ne sono più, e si può fare quasi tutto quasi dappertutto. E meno male.

Più che radici, preferisco avere ali.

21 February 2010

Taipei: National Palace Museum, 101, Longshan temple

National Palace Museum
My morning is entirely devoted to the National Palace Museum. I was here eight years ago but I am just as excited today. The best museum for Chinese art in the world. The story is well known. Chiang kai-shek took about 20,000 trunks wirth of art from the imperial collection of the forbidden city when he had to leave Beijing during the civil war. All that stuff traveled around China, but when Chiang saw that he was losing to mao, he had his staff pack "only" about 7,000 trunks of the best items and shipped it over to Taiwan. This treasure is still a major bone of contention with Beijing, though in recent years there have been cooperation programs with museums in the mainland.

This is la crème de la crème of Chinese art, collected by emperors as far back as the Tang dynasty. Chiang had a nuclear bomb proof vault buil in a mountain next to Taipei and then, next to the mountain, this museum. The world is lucky that the stuff is here, or it would probably have been dstroyed during the cultural revolution in China. Today, only about one percent of the items are on display, and the Museum's staff rotates it ever so many months. Incredibly refined, pottery, ceramics, calligraphy, jewellery, jade, bronze...

I can see myself coming back here many, many times...

Leaving the Museum I head to the XXI symbol of pride of Taiwan, Taipei 101. When it was completed in 2004 it was the tallest building in the world, and it remained that until last month, when Burj Khalifa opened in Dubai. Taipei 101 is a controversial project. My friend S., who openly sympathizes for the independentist school of thought in Taiwan, says it was not really necessary and it was motly a trick by the Nationalists to impress an increasingly disillusioned electorate.

Taipei 101


Moving fast in 101 elevator
Be that as it may, it is still impressive. Inside, there is a slurpy food center in the basement. Then several floors of shopping mall, and what a shopping mall! Luxur brands from all over the world and a pleasant yet awe inspiring carousel of escalators, lifts, lights, and immense empty spaces that provide a welcoming and warm atmosphere.

At the top, it is cold and windy today. Not the best day to enjoy the landscape. I don't spend much time there, but again I must admit to being impressed: this time by the elevator, the fastest (at this time) in the world, going up and down at 17 meters per second without the slightest discomfort for the user. Well, may I should say the traveler, since it's over half a kilometer up from ground level!
Inside 101


An impressive 730 tons tuned mass damper is installed near the top to absorb shocks caused by wind or earthquakes.

tuned mass damper in 101
In the evening I went to the Longshan temple, where I spent some time looking at the faithful perform Buddhist ceremonies and giving offerings. It is a mystic atmosphere, welcoming and somewhat magic. Free CDs with Buddhist music ara available.
Longshan temple


20 February 2010

Taipei, Taiwan: Shilin night market

After eight years, I am back in Taiwan. Taipei fascinates me, a small capital city of a fiercely proud nation that wants to be a country. It is in fact a country, except the politics of the world don't allow it to call itself so.

I fly in from Hong Kong and check in my hotel in Da 'an. It's sort of late for a proper tour of the city so I opt to go to Shilin night market and have dinner on the go, and watch people.

It's a lively scene, the food available is beyond description, you can sit down at any of the countless stalls and have anything prepared for your as you wait. Actually, as you watch, it is done right there in front of your eyes.





Lots of games of skill around, people have fun, quietly, between a bite and a drink. I wish I had a month to come back every night and taste all of this tempting food!

There is people of all ages. Families with children playing around, adolescents on a date, older people savoring the atmosphere. A bustling yet serene night market.

18 February 2010

A few days eating around in Hong Kong



I have spent a few days in Hong Kong, and I am so impressed. This is a fantastic city, so full of life, energy, fun and culture. And amazing food, cheap and tasty! I have eaten all kinds of stuff, some that not even J. could quite explain what it was... I tried hard but could not find anything, I mean ANYTHING, I did not like. The one plate that stuck most in my memory was pig's lungs in almonds' soup. OK a bit unusual, not even J. ate the lungs, she was happy with just the soup, but I found it all quite well matched. Which was followed by pork liver. WOW!

Often J. and I would eat at street stalls, delicious and cheap food served in paper bags, so cheap and so tasty I had to really make an effort to stop.

For food shopping, there are countless markets of all kinds. I found the "wet markets" especially interesting. They are called so because fish is so fresh... it is fact sold alive! Instead of dead fish on ice or shrinkwraps you buy fish here that is still swimming in styrofoam boxes. One day J. bought an octopus, which was still alive when we took it home for cooking. I was slightly shocked to see her cutting it up as it was moving around the kitchen table, but it was definitely fresh!

We even found a specialty shop with Italian produce, you can get real mozzarella di bufala flown in from Italy daily. I could buy some pancetta and Roman pecorino cheese, and was proud to make some authentic amatriciana at J.'s home for all the family! OK OK for purists: I did not find the mandatory guanciale, but maybe I did not look well enough!

Touring Hong Kong is fun in the traditional two-storied trams, that apparently were now bought by Veolia, a French company which however has pledged to keep the traditional trams running. However, for longer distances, and to cross over to Kowloon, the metro system is fast and superefficient. Taxis are convenient and cheap too.

15 February 2010

Arrival in Hong Kong for Chinese New Year's celebrations

It's my first time back in Hong Kong after 14 years. Last time I landed in the old airport, an experience I will never forget! This time I am welcomed by the new airport, an architectural and logistical masterpiece that is voted best airport in the world over and over again... This, also, is a great experience!

13 February 2010

Film Review: War Photographer, by Christian Frei, *****

Synopsis
An Oscar nominee for best documentary, 'War Photographer' was directed by Swiss filmmaker Christian Frei, who followed Nachtwey, who for many is the greatest war photographer of his generation, to Kosovo, Palestine and Indonesia.

We see the photographer in combat zones and pockets of horrific poverty, approaching his subjects slowly, with a hand raised in peace. After 20 years of covering war, poverty and famine Nachtwey still sees his work as an antidote to war and his photographs as a graphic 'negotiation for peace.'

Review
Christian Frei is never in want of original ideas for his films. Here he mounts mini movie cameras on Hachtwey's photo cameras and shows us the world's tragedies as Jim himself saw them. From war theaters in Bosnia, Kosovo, Palestine, Somalia (hence the title) to poverty and gruesome mines in Indonesia, Jim has seen it all. His goal: to make people around the world aware of the horrors of war so as to build up forces to prevent this tragedy from happening again. A bit idealistic perhaps, but he puts immensely powerful images behind this goal.

Jim took all black and white pictures, and some scenes of this documentary are shot back home in NY and show Jim working with his assistants in the darkroom (this is predigital) to make perfect prints of his negatives.




You might want to buy his superlative photography book on the wars of the 1990s. It is a big, heavy and expensive book but worth every cent you pay for it.




11 January 2010

14. - 11 JAN: Addis Ababa and departure, end of the trip

Last day in Ethiopia for this trip. We spend it around the city in the company of R. and S., two Ethiopian ladies we met at a restaurant last night. First stop is at a music shop, where I can buy some CDs of Ethiopian music. The area is by the "mercato", the Italian built covered market. All around an odd mix of old and new. Some donkey-pulled carts roll down the street next to modern cars and traditional spices are sold next to Coke. Out little music shop displays a rich variety of CDs.

When I ask about "traditional" Ethiopian music the lady at the counter looks bewildered. "We don't have so much, no one listens to that stuff any more." I suppose it would be like a foreigner going to a music shop in Rome and asking about CDs of "O Sole Mio"; he would probably get the same answer. Instead, she proposes a few disks of contemporary Ethiopian hits. Rather rock and rollish, with a touch of techno. Anyway, this is Ethiopian music today, so I buy a few CDs to take home!

More shopping at a bookstand. Again I can find some old colonial publications in Italian, I am struck by a meticulously detailed issue of a Rivista Economica in which the Fascist administration was proposing to reorganize the Ethiopian economy to face the League of Nations' sanctions!

Pit stop at a mango juice stand. Two ladies press the fresh drink, which we all enjoy, only to be a bit disappointed when the older one presents us with a bill for the drinks and... for the pictures we have taken! We don't pay and she is seriously disappointed. I mean, come on! I would have understood this kind of request in a tourist trap fake village by the entrance of a Kenyan national park, but not in a bustling city that prides itself (and if fact IS) a major continental capital.

Later we drive up the Mount Entoto, perhaps the best vantage point to view the city. In the huge park the highly significant Church of Mariam is worth a visit. Rose and Selam stop to pray by the little shrine at the bottom of the steps which lead into the Church itself. As we drive back into town on a newly paved road, an old lady walks briskly downhill with a huge pile of what looks like dried bamboo on her shoulder.

It's time to go to the airport, the trip is over. One last mishap, but not a major problem. It is impossible to change back our leftover Birr after security control, and therefore the only thing left is to spend them at the duty-fre shops. Nice picture books on Africa are fortunately available...

10 January 2010

Book Review: The Emperor, by Ryszard Kapuszinski, *****

Synopsis

After the deposition of Haile Selassie in 1974, which ended the ancient rule of the Abyssinian monarchy, Ryszard Kapuscinski travelled to Ethiopia and sought out surviving courtiers to tell their stories. Here, their eloquent and ironic voices depict the lavish, corrupt world they had known - from the rituals, hierarchies and intrigues at court to the vagaries of a ruler who maintained absolute power over his impoverished people. They describe his inexorable downfall as the Ethiopian military approach, strange omens appear in the sky and courtiers vanish, until only the Emperor and his valet remain in the deserted palace, awaiting their fate. Dramatic and mesmerising, The Emperor is one of the great works of reportage and a haunting epitaph on the last moments of a dying regime.


13. - 10 JAN: Bahir Dar to Addis Ababa

As we hit the road soutward toward the capital a large funeral procession of several hundred people in white robes cut across the highway. Most of the people are barefoot, and they all walk briskly in the cool morning sun, and their candid attire contrasts starkly with the black asphalt.

Many other people, as usual, walk along the side of the brand new highway. An "East African Bamboo Project" stand proudly displays, well, bamboo poles for sale, and a wide choice of mosquito brushes.

At 10:30 we stop at a gas station for some coffee. Good, strong, dense Italian coffee made with real Italian espresso machines. Coffee is a good connection between our two countries, they have the coffee and we brought in the machines, though the traditional coffee ceremony, as we have experienced it several times during this trip, is not to be missed.


Sharing injera and raw meat with our driver at a road side eatery
Lunch is at a roadside eatery/butcher shop/bar/gas station. The butcher, in a blood-stained white coat, is busy cutting up some beef into thin strips of meat. He and one of is assistants use special knives with a rounded blade that looks like a huge fishing hook. As usual, I eat with the driver and get a nice ingera with raw beef, all accompanied by a cool bottle of never to be missed Coca Cola.

A few kilometers down the road we cross the Nile again, this time on foot. We walk over a bridge built by the Italians, next to which in 2008 the Japanese built another one, more modern looking but definitely less charming, which is used by our bus. There is no traffic at all today on either bridge. A lone baboon plays on top of the ridge as we drive away.

Italian and Japanese bridges on the Nile
Shortly afterwards we meet some farmers having a tea break while they are gathering hay, and the are very kind to invite us over for a drink. About a dozen men labor away while a lady walks around with a full pot handing over cupfuls of tea.

One last stop before reaching the capital is at Debre Libanos, an ancient monastery where a wedding is taking place in one of the churches. Lots of friends and relatives in white and red dresses, rythmic music and a conservative, almost stiff posture on the part of the newlyweds.

This is not a happy site in the memory of Italy's presence in Ethiopia. Here Graziani exterminated over 200 monks when he suspected they had connived with those who had attempted on his life.