roland russoli updates from west africa 2008

Email Roland in Nouakchott, Mauritania (located in northwest Africa on the Sahara Desert) Also read: Roland's West Africa Blogs from 2007 Roland's Mongolia Blogs: 2007 | 2006 (Part 1) | 2006 (Part 2) July 4, 2008 "THEY SAY YOU HAVE A MONSTER  HERE THEY SAY YOUR LANDS ARE CURSED I AM BEOWULF AND I AM HERE TO KILL YOUR MONSTER" We love our heroes.   They inspire us......they give our lives meaning....they give us hope and strength to carry on when life gets difficult. Heroes seldom lead lives that we would ever want to lead, their lives are filled with fear, loneliness, despair, and often guilt. It is because they endure, that we set them apart and make them our examples to follow. Upon returning from Iraq the first time, Andrew related stories about firefights, the rush of adrenalin, and bloody visions that seemed to be caught in slow motion. And all of that from a boy who in childhood athletics never seemed to have an aggressive bone in his body. After he came back from the first tour of duty his manner was quieter, he was a little more isolated, much within himself and then he returned to Iraq for yet another tour At this point in time 4,092 of our troops have been killed in Iraq and when compared to the battles and wars throughout history it is not a significant number. What gives such a number significance are the names and faces and memories attached to that number. Andrew David Russoli was killed at Nasser Wa Salem, Iraq on October 20, 2005. He had received a Purple Heart for battle injuries on his first tour, he was deaf in one ear from being too near an explosion, and part of his other ear was blown off the week before his death by yet another explosion. He chose not to complain about any of this, which could have taken him from the front line, because he wanted to stay with his comrades in arms, a decision which kept him in harms way and ultimately took him to his death. The loss of a child forces a parent to enter a gauntlet of emotions. For me it included at least a year of physical pain in either the heart or the stomach, followed by sobbing nightmares and headaches and anxiety attacks that make you run for pharmaceutical relief whenever they occur. I am not certain how Sarah was able to deal with it all but, often her own tears flowed together with mine. Now months from the third anniversary of his death, the headaches and nightmares have ceased and I am left with the realization that there is a sadness in my heart that will never go away but, life does go on from here and death is not the end. The lesson of the little, abandoned, Mongolian orphans becomes even clearer................there is indeed life in every breath, and a deep breath is sometimes all that is required to receive it. There is not always meaning or purpose connected to the death of a loved one. In Mongolia President Bush told us that "this generation will bring peace to the Middle East." It is certainly a statement that has a noble sound but, it does not make me feel better about Andrew's death.Too many of our treasured children have been lost to this desert war against a people who will fight forever, for that is their nature. In listening and talking to Muslims in their world during this past year, I am under the impression that there will never be such a thing as winning or losing in this war, only more pain, and more loss of life until finally someone will have the sense to say ......enough...........stop. There is no glory here, protecting the freedom of America is not an issue and frankly as time goes on I wonder what the exact issue really is all about. It is always the politicians who make the rules and it is always our young, courageous soldiers who will pay the ultimate price. Andrew's intention upon getting out of the Marines was to become a fireman and "do something to save lives" for he had seen enough of killing and death. He had friends at a fire station in the town of Oak Ridge, in fact it was these firemen who, when Andrew was killed, honored him by imprinting his name on their helmets. In honor of Andrew, we are setting up a scholarship fund to aid those firemen and their families in pursuit of higher education. The first scholarship of twenty-five hundred dollars will be awardedin 2010, we hope you, and your friends will join us in contributing to this memorial. We send our heroes to kill the monsters that threaten us, and when our heroes fall they should not be forgotten and their legacy should be kept alive in the good that we can continue to do. Sarah and I will be returning to Greensboro on July 4th. Most of you have been with us on this three year odyssey that took us from the Steppes of Mongolia to the Sahara Desert and we appreciate the support and love that you gave so generously. We are grateful for your presence in our lives.   "Death closes all: but something ere the end, some work of noble note, may yet be done, not unbecoming men that strove with gods."  Tennyson Strength and Honor Roland July 2, 2008 When I think about our year in West Africa many mental images come to mind. On the positive side, the journeys to the ancient desert cities ( Chingetti, Leguilla, Oudane ) were very interesting. To walk down streets that were constructed in 1066 and still remain unchanged and for the most part unrepaired is a unique experience. Going to St. Louis , Senegal was delightful. The trip to Morocco, the 2000 year old Roman ruins of Voluvolis,the Berber merchants of Fez, the snake handlers of Marrakesh, Ricks Cafe in Casablanca and that incredible train system all screaming Old World ambiance were all unforgettable. The fact that two of my students offered me a plot of land ( one of them in exchange for a ten point increase in a final exam ) so that I could build a house and live next to them. The six foot five, Soninke ( tribe from the Senegal River area ) student Sunari, who provided me with several chants; in some mystical language to ward off evil beasts including " the Jen " ( where geni's come from both good and evil , " I Dream of Jeannie " was obviously a good one ). These chants were for the big hairy ones with the fangs that several of the students encountered. My friend Mohamed Ali, the lawyer ( or as he first introduced himself lawman) who was one of the kindest men I ever met, who constantly encouraged me to open my own teaching service so that I could further help him reach his goal of becoming an English professor. Well it hasn't been all a bowl of cherries or dates or couscous as they say. The Ministry of Finance where I held classes for six months, from day one never fixed the stopped up public toilet which continued to be used by the thirty or more people who floated in and out of there every day. A fact which explained the incredible number of flies that tormented us daily not to mention the smell which brought tears to my eyes. During this last month of June temperatures hovered around 114° F and the air conditioner was broken all month. At least once a day a technician would come in flip the breaker switch , vigorously press the remote button, shrug his shoulders then leave. My all time favourite rant was the fact that even if people did live in houses with toilets some still preferred to " go " in the street, a practise that keeps (especially side streets where our house was located ) with a thick ammonia smell constantly in the air. The real " piece de resistance " was every night at around 2 AM the dogs outside of our house would start barking and barking and barking until the donkeys who reside on two sides or our house start braying ( donkey talk for screaming ) after which the dogs who up until this point were only barking would start howling . This would usually go on for about one hour; always in the middle of the night, every night. The reason for the commotion is unclear I know it gets lonely in the desert but I try not to think about the alternatives. Two days ago I ate some bad dates and for 48 hours I enjoyed cramps, fever and dysentery...................................................West Africa the gift that keeps on giving. On July 4th at around 6PM it will be most definitely Independance Day for we should be touching down on NC soil. The last of the packers have just left and we are coming home. HOO...............................YA Roland   June 14, 2008 "THEY SAY YOU HAVE A MONSTER HERE THEY SAY YOUR LANDS ARE CURSED I AM BEOWULF AND I AM HERE TO KILL YOUR MONSTER" We love our heroes.  They inspire us......they give our lives meaning....they give us hope and strength to carry on when life gets difficult. Heroes seldom lead lives that we would ever want to lead, their lives are filled with fear, loneliness, despair, and often guilt. It is because they endure, that we set them apart and make them our examples to follow. Upon returning from Iraq the first time, Andrew related stories about firefights, the rush of adrenalin, and bloody visions that seemed to be caught in slow motion. And all of that from a boy who in childhood athletics never seemed to have an aggressive bone in his body. After he came back from the first tour of duty his manner was quieter, he was a little more isolated, much within himself and then he returned to Iraq for yet another tour At this point in time 4,092 of our troops have been killed in Iraq and when compared to the battles and wars throughout history it is not a significant number. What gives such a number significance are the names and faces and memories attached to that number. Andrew David Russoli was killed at Nasser Wa Salem, Iraq on October 20, 2005. He had received a Purple Heart for battle injuries on his first tour, he was deaf in one ear from being too near an explosion, and part of his other ear was blown off the week before his death by yet another explosion. He chose not to complain about any of this, which could have taken him from the front line, because he wanted to stay with his comrades in arms, a decision which kept him in harms way and ultimately took him to his death. The loss of a child forces a parent to enter a gauntlet of emotions. For me it included at least a year of physical pain in either the heart or the stomach, followed by sobbing nightmares and headaches and anxiety attacks that make you run for pharmaceutical relief whenever they occur. I am not certain how Sarah was able to deal with it all but, often her own tears flowed together with mine. Now months from the third anniversary of his death, the headaches and nightmares have ceased and I am left with the realization that there is a sadness in my heart that will never go away but, life does go on from here and death is not the end. The lesson of the little, abandoned, Mongolian orphans becomes even clearer................there is indeed life in every breath, and a deep breath is sometimes all that is required to receive it. There is not always meaning or purpose connected to the death of a loved one. In Mongolia President Bush told us that "this generation will bring peace to the Middle East." It is certainly a statement that has a noble sound but, it does not make me feel better about Andrew's death.Too many of our treasured children have been lost to this desert war against a people who will fight forever, for that is their nature. In listening and talking to Muslims in their world during this past year, I am under the impression that there will never be such a thing as winning or losing in this war, only more pain, and more loss of life until finally someone will have the sense to say ......enough...........stop. There is no glory here, protecting the freedom of America is not an issue and frankly as time goes on I wonder what the exact issue really is all about. It is always the politicians who make the rules and it is always our young, courageous soldiers who will pay the ultimate price. Andrew's intention upon getting out of the Marines was to become a fireman and "do something to save lives" for he had seen enough of killing and death. He had friends at a fire station in the town of Oak Ridge, in fact it was these firemen who, when Andrew was killed, honored him by imprinting his name on their helmets. In honor of Andrew, we are setting up a scholarship fund to aid those firemen and their families in pursuit of higher education. The first scholarship of twenty-five hundred dollars will be awarded in 2010, we hope you, and your friends will join us in contributing to this memorial. We send our heroes to kill the monsters that threaten us, and when our heroes fall they should not be forgotten and their legacy should be kept alive in the good that we can continue to do. Sarah and I will be returning to Greensboro on July 4th. Most of you have been with us on this three year odyssey that took us from the Steppes of Mongolia to the Sahara Desert and we appreciate the support and love that you gave so generously. We are grateful for your presence in our lives.  "Death closes all:  but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, not unbecoming men that strove with gods."    Tennyson Strength and Honor Roland May 26, 2008 Selflessness Heroism Duty Courage They were the best of us... always remember them Memorial Day 2008 Strength and Honor Roland April 9, 2008 If you travel two hours north from Nouakchott and then make a sharp left and then travel 20 miles across the desert (providing someone has a GPS) you come to a camp on the beach. I went fishing, but only managed to loose too lure. Then I tried some pepperoni for bait and even that didn't work. Obviously there are no Italian fish in West Africa. Several others caught fish and we had a big fish fry on the beach we contributed some Triskets and cheese, I should have just eaten the pepperoni. What a waste. I have now fished on three continents and have still not landed the big one or the small one for that matter. The place where you fish from was about 100 yards from the beach and was only accessible during low tide. It was like walking on the surface of the moon. The fish that were caught, most of them with a spear gun, were quite tasty,and the beach, surf and sand gave it a certain ambiance. Yesterday the big news was a shootout. The terrorists, who killed the four French tourists escaped from the jail (nice job Barney). The police discovered their hiding place and surrounded it. When the shooting stopped there was one dead terrorist, one dead policeman, one wounded terrorist, and eight wounded policemen. There is one of the terrorists still at large.The moral of the story is when you go to arrest terrorists make sure you take guns with you the first time you knock on the door. Watch your backs, there is still more of this stuff in the U.S. than here; Take care, Roland March 15, 2008 When you leave Noakchott by plane you are always surprised when the flight attendant walks down the aisle and sprays an entire can of insecticide over all of the passengers. They spray above your head so it usually takes a few minutes until you can catch your breath and get over the feeling that you have just been gassed. The flight to Casablanca (just Casa to the locals) is yet another night flight at 2:45AM. The flight was uneventful until we got into Moroccan air space where some incredible turbulence sent many a hand up in the air and the cries to Allah were in stereo. Casa is a big city, probably not the cleanest, but unique never the less. the bars according to Lonely Planet are only frequented at night by men and local prostitutes, as women tourists are unwelcome in the " just drinking " places. At night it is a rough place and several fights and disturbances took place in the street under our hotel window (usually after midnight). There are many outdoor cafes to drink tea and the local men line the tables sleazily looking at the passersby. We visited the Mosque of Hassan V, which is the 3rd largest in the Muslim world and was built at a cost of one half billion dollars. Inside and outside it is covered with mosaics, marble and carvings of all kinds. The building holds twenty thousand men and five thousand women worshippers inside with space for another eighty thousand outside. The women have a special enclosed balcony upstairs in which to pray, and Sarah noted that it took less women to get the job done. Of course we ate at Rick's Cafe which is now owned by a women and is very upscale from the original movie version. It did have excellent food, I tried the cheeseburgers and fries( classy as always) one day and the stingray (tastes like crab not chicken) the next. We wondered through the old section (the medina) using a compass, so as to not walk in circles through the narrow interconnected streets. After two days, Lee Anne joined us and after one more lunch at Rick's we were off to the train station. Trains in Morocco are easy and cheap and very accessible. We travelled to the cities of Meknes, Volubilis (2,000 year old Roman ruins), Fes, and Marrakesh. The colors, carvings and mosaics of these places are stunning with fountains on side streets that are elaborate mosaics and hundreds of years old, but still being used by the locals. From the horse stables of the king, that once housed 12,000 horses with 12,000 saddles and tack to the underground prisons (dark damp and very Count of Monte Cristo), where four thousand Berbers (Morocco's original inhabitants) were starved to death chained to the walls by their Arab captors, to the beautiful olive and orange groves which line the rolling hills of this beautiful green country, it is all breathtaking. The weather here is cooler than where we live and the atmosphere of places like the main plaza of Marrakesh with it's snake handlers, whirling dancers, and henna hand tattoo artists, seem to carry an air of the 1001 Arabian Nights. Oddly enough (and I really don't know why ) I was often called Ali Babba by the merchants. We walked into a Berber rug store and after Sarah and Lee Anne showed them we had credit cards by buying two wall hangings, they invited us for the traditional tea. Berber rug merchants are legendary for selling rugs to tourists and I was not going to be moved by them. They started ( while we waited for the tea ) by showing each style and stitching of at least eight Berber rugs of course all made by single mothers with no husbands and starving children. Me: I don't need a rug. They: But Ali Babba the children are all sick and need medicine. Me: I am sorry about the children but I don't need a rug. They : Which style do you like best? ( I stupidly point to one after being asked five times cost is 10,500 Dirhans) Me: But I don't need a rug. They : Ali Babba I will give you the best price 8,500 Dirhans Me: I don't need a rug. They: My mothers glass eye needs to be replaced and I don't have the money pleaseeeeeeee. Me: I'm sorry about your mother's eye but I don't need a rug. (We are now joined by three other guys that are flipping different colors of rugs in the style I liked, like pancakes on a grill) They: How about this one, that one , this one, that one, this one Me: I really don't need a rug (He puts his arm around me) They: OK OK you are part Berber Ali Babba, for you my brother 6,500 Dirhans Me: No I said I don't need a rug. They: Ok my children will only eat one meal a day and I will have to sell my house, for you my brother 5,000 Dirhans Me: No They: Name your price my brother. (In a moment of complete insanity (this discussion took at least thirty minutes) I hear myself say Me: 4,500 Dirhans ($600.00) They: Oh Ali Babba I cannot do this I will loose money, I will be fired. (I get up and am walking to the door saying I don't need a rug anyway) They: OK OK ( and the rug has been rolled, wrapped and stitched into a plastic carrier before I can blink my eyes) I go to pay the cashier and he tells me there is a 4 % tax and a 5% charge for the credit card I say "no keep the rug", and they take off both charges and drive us to our hotel. The three of us are completely exhausted and dazed but we leave the store with two wall hangings and a 5 X 8 Berber rug that has about three different kinds of stitches and that you can use on either side called a "show off rug" (it really is quite beautiful) A word to the wise, if you happen upon a Berber rug merchant and he offers you a traditional cup of tea, hold on to your wallet, run in the opposite direction and don't look back. Congratulations to Gwen's Marine son Ryan, back from Iraq safe and sound, he has been in all of our prayers. And congratulations also to Roland Jr. who has happily completed his second week back doing social work and helping others who have lost their way. You go boy, I am proud of you. Strength and Honor, Roland February 3, 2008 Sometimes, I feel like I am in a Peter Seller's, Inspector Clouseau movie with these incredible French accents that surround me. It's 11:45PM ( the only time airplanes leave Nouakchott ) and I am standing in front of our, one little ticket counter with about fifty Mauritanians standing around me ( all smoking ). Ticket Agent : Des es naut de nummbeer on dis plane. Me: I didn't make up the number that is what is on my e -ticket  Ticket Agent : Des es nout an Air Franzz nummber. Me: Thats all I have could you check with someone ? He goes to check Ticket Agent : Ahhhhhhhhh Yesssssss Wellllcome to Air Franzzz. Finally, sitting  in the spacious twelve inch economy asle seat, I am joined by a young couple, she sits aside of me, both are French. She runs her fingers through the length of her hair, then again, then again, again and again and then once again. She then puts her hair up with a barette, then takes it out, then puts it in, then out, then in, then out, then in . Then its time for her contact lens preparation and cleaning and this is another ten minutes of fiddleing with elbows and movement . I am ready to scream when she finally settles down, but not before taking out the barette one last time and giving her hair about one hundred strokes with a brush.  OK ....she is settled, this is the midnight flight, so the lights all go down and everyone tries to get comfey. The flight attendant gives us a little kit with socks, eye mask, and tooth brush. My fight companion ( all this in a twelve inch center seat) takes off her shoes and puts on the socks and gets ready for an evening nap. She puts on the eyemask and then in this Zorro like state somehow pulls her knees under her like she is sitting in a comfortable cushioned arm chair at home, but the seat in very narrow, so her sharp pointy knees extend over into the next passenger ( guess who ?) with a good three inches of knee.............. but she is now quiet, and sleeping and I am finally thankful for small blessings. The Charles De Gaulle Paris airport is only five hours away, viva la France. The flight attendant who only speaks only french ,comes up to me and says something like " desiree vous dinner ? " And without skipping a frog beat I said "oui, je voudrais le poisson, un verre de vin blanc, et formage Francais, et pain. So I figured I either ordered the fish,a glass of white wine, french cheese and bread or I said something really nasty about his sister, I am never completely certain.   Two nights ago shots were fired into the Isreali Embassy and according to the New York times five people were wounded. This place is turning into the wild west but the wrong people seem to have all the guns.   Sarah is on her way to Nema this week, to check on her volunteers. Nema is close to the Mali border, which is the area that the Australian Embassy tells it's citizens not to go near, things always seem to be a little more threatening near Mali,with kidnappings and robbers and the like.   I enjoyed the beautiful lights of Paris before we landed it was just before dawn, in another twelve or so hours I will enjoy the lights of Greensboro ...............yes my friends, it's time for a mental health break and I am up for it  Just a little rest at the " fortress of solitude ",shake the sand out of my shoes and then I will be ready for another year in the desert. May your week also be filled with McDonalds, Starbucks,and sandwiches from Loch Stock and Bagel. Stay Well, Roland January 14, 2008 When I was twenty years old I was stationed at Ft Riley, Kansas with the First Infantry Division. It was a dull place to be and we did not yet know that one year later ,we would all be in Vietnam and things would get much more exciting but, not in a good way. When we had some money, which was usually at the beginning of the month, we would go into Manhattan, Kansas the closest town, for a steak and a " near beer ". We went to one place in particular that had flank steaks and mashed potatoes and we always joked with the waitress, whose name was Frieda. Now Freida was probably in her forties with thick " milk-bottle "eyeglasses and a heavy German accent. Being twenty years old and relatively mindless, we joked with her using the incredibly limited knowledge of the world stored in our twenty year old minds. So upon entering and exiting the restaurant, we always gave her an enthusiastic "Heil Hitler" with a salute because we thought she would think it funny. She always laughed with us until one day, she was waiting on us and her sleeve came up above her wrist and I saw the numbered tattoo. I felt as though I was going to throw up as I realised what our little joke must have done to her. The other soldier who was with me was born in Germany and when I brought the tattoo to his attention, he asked her, in German, what had happened. She told  him that her entire family had been sent to Dachau where all perished except her. Since that day, I have never joked about such things again to anyone, and to hear such a joke makes my stomach turn. You can to try imagine what people are feeling, including the degree of their pain ,but you can only understand the reality of that association, when it comes knocking at your door.  Here in Mauritania, I have been teaching two classes of ten adults in each class. My students know that I lost a son in the Iraq war and even with this knowledge it seems their beliefs often overshadow their humanity. One day I asked " what is your favourite holiday " one answered "9/11", I mentioned President Bush's name and one of the students said he wanted to kill him, another argued that all the Jews should be taken out of Palestine and sent to the US, because Palestine belongs to the Arabs, another told me how great Osama Bin Laden was and asked me if I thought the same , I told him I didn't think he was so great, another nineteen year old has a picture of Saddam Hussein on his cell phone, apparently his hero and several others joked about belonging to the " Muslim Brothers " , which is the grandfather organization of Al Quaeda. There are many Muslims here who say that the terrorists are bad and that they do not give an accurate impression of the Muslim faith, many are sweet, kind, and helpful, but then there are the others. On Christmas Eve, a family of four French tourists were murdered by terrorists as they picnicked on the side of the road, about two hours from Nouakchott. Two days later four Mauritanian soldiers were murdered by terrorists at a border outpost. Yesterday there were two anti-terrorist rallies given by the opposition party of the government and Americans were warned to keep a low profile. Muslims pray five times a day and five times a day they wash their faces, hands, and feet then face Mecca, kneel on the ground and pray. Muslims are among the most devoted practitioners of religion that I have ever seen and although there is a major difference between the terrorists and the anti-terrorists, make no mistake, they are one nation and as a nation they do not want any foreign government telling them what to do and they make that  very clear. The general impression that they have of us is given to them by our TV news media. During a recent two day period, nine American soldiers were killed in Iraq, yet on CNN and Fox the four stories that aired continuously here in Mauritania were the US primaries, the pregnant Marine who was murdered, OJ's re-arrest, and the parole violation of Ms Lefavre. It seems the coverage of our political contest we must endure, including what they eat for breakfast and the price of their homes; the pregnant Marine, although a sad case did not require a camera trained on a plot of ground for two days ,in hopes of a glimpse of human remains; OJ ? who really cares about OJ ? ; and the story of Ms Lefavre concerned itself more with pictures of her straddled atop a motorcycle in a bikini with the words SEX OFFENDER flashing underneath her picture, so that it was really difficult to determine what exactly that story was trying to say but it caught your attention. The nine soldiers only received a byline across the bottom of the screen, as have the deaths of so many who have lost their lives in this war. War deaths are not sensational enough to boost the ratings of a  reality starved audience. I think the image that we offer the world is quite different than the image that we have of ourselves or at least I would hope so. It seems the Muslims see us as a rich and spoiled nation up to our neck in the superficial and sensational. When the man said that 9/11 was his favourite holiday I got directly in front of his face and said " I am an American and that was an insensitive thing to say ". He never apologised, but the next day he gave me a Mauritanian key chain and offered me a ride home. We can only understand each other when we take responsibility for own actions and words and begin to see each other as fellow human beings. When I saw the numbers tattooed on Frieda's wrist I was able  to see her as a real person, with feelings and hurts and sensitivities and I think that is the first step of understanding between two people as well as between two nations. With the Muslims, this will be a long and difficult road to travel, but we must try if we are to survive together. Keep the Faith, Roland January 2, 2008     These were taken by the Polish couple who were hitchhiking across Africa if you can imagine such a thing especially with the latest problems with AlQuada in Mauritania and they sent these to us. We are still munching on dates we purchased on the trip  they seem to last forever:

College Park Baptist Church 1601 Walker Avenue, Greensboro, NC 27403 cpbcgbo@bellsouth.net 336.273.1779