I used to fly helicopters for the Navy. Now I work at U.S. embassies to build our mutual security cooperation/defense relationships. I'm also reading a novel from every country in Africa (33 so far). I'm in the process of moving these over to a dedicated website: www.beyondachebe.com.
Most of my non-africa book reviews are now over at www.kruzoo.blogspot.com
"But being right, even morally right, isn't everything. It is also important to be competent, to be consistent, and to be knowledgeable. It's important for your soldiers and diplomats to speak the language of the people you want to influence. It's important to understand the ethnic and tribal divisions of the place you hope to assist." -Anne Applebaum
In celebration of Cameroon's Independence Day (20 May 1972) my poet of the week is Mbella Sonne Dipoko. I have provided a slew of links that can give you more background on his very interesting and colorful life. I think that the poem that I have featured below aptly captures the spirit of the man whose life spanned the breadth of the human experience: poet, writer, chieftain, mayor, rebel and thinker.
NOTE: When I feature these poems I am not cutting and pasting them from anywhere since most of them aren't readily available on the web. Instead I am retyping (transcribing) them from a book of poetry. Initially this was tedious, but I have found that I enjoy it now. Typing out the words, the stanzas, the periods, the capital letters, the commas, illuminates the poet's intent and state of mind for me.
*From what I can tell, Dipoko wrote this poem in English. I intend to translate it into French at a later date.
A Poem of Villeneuve St. Georges
(for M-C)
I am tempted to think of you
Now that I have grown old
And date my sadness
To the madness of your love.
All those flowers you hung
On my gate
All those flowers the wind blew
On the snow!
Why must I remember them now
And recall you calling me
Like a screech-owl
While I watched you
Through the window-pane
And the moon was over the Seine
And Africa was far away
And you were calling
And then crying
In the snow of exile
And the neighbor’s dog barking as if bored
By the excesses of your tenderness?
When I came down for you
And opened the gate
Cursing the cold of your hand
You always went and stood
Under the poplars of the river Yerres
At the bottom of the garden
Silently watching its Seine-bound waters;
And the moon might take to the clouds
Casting a vast shadow
That sometimes seemed to reach our hearts.
And then following me upstairs
You stopped a while on the balcony
As high as which the vines of the garden grew
With those grapes which had survived
The end of the summer
You picked a few grapes
Which we ate
I remember their taste
Which was that of our kisses.
And then in the room
You in such a hurry to undress
And you always brought
A white and a black candle which you lit.
Their flames were the same colour
Of the fire glowing in the grate
And you were no longer white
You were brown
By the light of the fires of love
At midnight
Years ago.
Dipoko was born in 1936 at Mungo, Cameroon. He left Cameroon for Paris in 1960 and lived there for about 25 years (I think); he died in Tiko, Cameroon in 2009 . He published two novels: A Few Nights and Days and Because of Women. He also published a book of his poetry entitled Black and White in Love. From what I have been able to research, he was also a controversial figure in his service as a mayor in Cameroon (in Tiko) under the CPDM after previously denouncing authoritarianism.
I read a lot over the holidays so I am still catching up with my summaries of all my December reading. Reading Is About the Lines That Leap Off the Pages Much of what you read in the Times you read without giving a thought to who the author is. I couldn't make that mistake after reading this year-end gem by Dwight Garner, literary critic extraordinaire. In it he deftly leaps through about twenty different book recommendations, lifting delicious quotes from each of them. The Christmas Revolution Smart, well-written article on just how revolutionary Jesus was. "He saw the inestimable worth of human life, regardless of social status, wealth and worldly achievements, intelligence or national origin. So should we." ISIS’ War on Christmas
Interesting and thoughtful article on how Salafists think about Christmas theologically. The author also draws parallels between Islamists' "origin' state and that of the far right en France.
MARITIME ‘REPO MEN’: A LAST RESORT FOR STOLEN SHIPS Wow, fascinating report on the gritty underbelly of maritime repossessors. This has to get made into a movie. What’s Your Favorite Poem? A round table of authors discuss their favorite poems--what's not to like! How I Escaped Vietnam Incredible untold story of the flood of children that escaped Vietnam in the midst of escalating violence and mayhem. In Chile, Where Pablo Neruda Lived and Loved Beautiful writing about the homes of Neruda in Chile. Essential reading for any Pablophile. The Deported I feel like it's all too easy for both sides of the immigration debate to make sweeping statements one way or the other. Articles like these should hopefully give one pause to consider the actual human lives behind whatever the policies enacted are. Why the Post Office Makes America Great Having lived overseas for more than two years in a third-world country I appreciate the author's sentiment. As Americans we take things like being able to send a letter that arrives where it is supposed to for granted.
Since 2010, I've written a birthday post for the Marine Corps each year (except for 2013 right after we first moved to Madagascar--sorry Chesty). Last weekend, I had the honor to be invited as the guest speaker at our US Embassy Marine Corps Ball. It was a great honor to share the stage and spotlight with the Marine Security Guard team that protects us every day in Antananarivo. I've included the speech I gave below.
From Fonte Hill to Capitol Hill: Lou Wilson, Tide Laundry Detergent and Why I Ended Up in the Navy
Just hours
after their attack on Pearl Harbor, the Japanese captured the island of Guam.But by the summer of 1944, the Japanese were
on their heels as the U.S. Pacific fleet battled toward their homeland.To counter this, the Japanese emperor heavily
reinforced key islands to create a defensive barrier in the Pacific.Guam was one of these islands.There were over 18,000 seasoned Japanese
soldiers on the island, with the majority fortifying the towering highland of
Fonte Hill—an outpost directly overlooking the beach on which the 3rd
Marine Division would land.On the
morning of 21 July, the Marines began their assault, suffering heavy losses as
enemy artillery and mortars battered the beach head.With high powered telescopes the commanding
Japanese general peered down at the individual faces of marines as they were
mowed down.
Despite
this, after a day of fighting, the marines had secured the beach head.For the next three days the marines fought
their way inland through rice paddies and sloping foothills toward Fonte Hill
where the Japanese headquarters rested.On 25 July, the exhausted and battered Marines of two companies received
the order to attack Fonte Hill.
For the next
six hours, the marines battled their way to near the top of the massive prominence.Unfortunately the last third of the hill was
up across nearly vertical terrain. Japanese general Takashinaconcentrated all of his forces to beat back
the two marine companies.As the sun
began to set, he redoubled his efforts to
dislodge the one company still hanging tough…the group of leathernecks led by one
CAPTAIN Lou Wilson.
--
As the son
of a career Marine I grew up on Marine bases around the globe and I had a
poster on one of my walls of GENERAL
Lou Wilson.Because marine corps BRATS,
as we were called, didn’t just have posters of prima donna sports heros growing
up—we had posters of real heros—men like Lou Wilson.We lived on streets named after heroes like
Bobo, Puller, Daly and Pendleton.With
all of this indoctrination—I mean espirit de corps, you might be asking
yourself why I am standing up here as a Naval officer.After all, not only was my father a marine,
but so was an uncle of mine, a cousin, and so was one of my grandfathers AND one
of my grandmothers.I mean, what went
wrong???One word easily captures what
went wrong—a beautiful little vacation spot called Quantico.
The summer
before my senior year at the Naval Academy, I signed up for the six week long
“Leatherneck” course.A fully immersive
experience, Leatherneck is designed to give participants a taste—a very strong
taste it turns out—of what it would be like to go through the six MONTH long
Basic School course completed by all marine officers.I remember the 2nd LT in charge
giving me several hundreds rounds of blank ammo as my squad embarked on one of
our first patrols.Channeling Rambo, I reveled in expending every
last bullet at the imagined enemies lurking in the forests.
BUT, what I
didn’t realize till afterwards was that following each patrol we would be spending
several HOURS cleaning our weapons before we could retire for the evening.Cleaning your weapons is a lengthy process
that involves disassembling the gun, and then painstakingly cleaning it with a
combination of oils, brushes and clothes.It turns out cleaning weapons was NOT my forte.I was routinely one of the last midshipmen
dismissed as the officer in charge always seemed to find a ‘filthy’ amount of
dirt lurking in my rifle.That was until
I figured out that I could soak all the weapon’s parts in Tide Laundry
detergent, rinse them off and be done in about twenty minutes.The 2nd LT, however, was none too
pleased when he discovered that I was using this “shortcut”—a shortcut that also
shorten’s the weapon’s service life.Needless to say, I didn’t ‘retire’ for the evening until late the night of the LT's discovery.
But, the very next patrol we went on (and every one after that for
the next five weeks), I gave all of my ammo to my elated buddies and just made
shooting sounds the whole time…thereby conserving the cleanliness of my
weapon.And then there was just the
general misery of lying and crawling in the dirt all day following by daily
‘humps’ of 15 miles with a 50 pound pack in humid 100 degree weather…all while
pretending to be “motivated, motivated motivated sir”.But
what really clinched it for me, were the blood-sucking ticks that seems to
implant themselves on every crook and crevice of the human body.The only way to combat these ticks, was by
performing rather invasive nightly body checks…one each other…every night.Needless to say, I got to know my fellow
squadmates better than I ever wanted.Later
in my career, I came across this quote by a Navy admiral: "The
Army and the Navy are run like traditional military services. The Air Force is
run like a corporation. But the Marine Corps is a religion."After six weeks at the Marine Corps Mecca, I
had a newfound respect for the Corps and couldn’t have agreed more with the
admiral.
---
This year we
celebrate the Marine Corps 240th birthday—and we also celebrate 240
years of the Marine Corps here in Africa.240 years ago, President Jefferson needed a force to strike back against
the Barbary pirates terrorizing US shipping in the Mediterranean and the Marine
Corps was created—a force that would battle the north African criminals for the
next two decades…all the way to the ‘shores of tripoli’.That same year when US diplomats visited the
French Royal court, it was a platoon of marines that protected them during the
journey.This State Department –Marine
Corps relationship wouldn’t be formalized, though, until the end of World War
II when a 60 marine detachment was sent to smoldering bombed-out London to
protect our embassy there.Three years
later, in 1948 the Marine Security Guard program began with an initial
deployment of 83 marines across the globe.
Since 1948,
the Marine Security Guards have exhibited a track record of competence,
professionalism and bravery.
An episode
that captures the very spirit and nature of their work and the Marine Corps in
general occurred in 1991 in another beautiful little vacation spot
called…Mogadishu.Not many people may
recall the details of Operation Eastern Exit since the events were eclipsed by
the Desert Storm invasion which occurred on the same day.The basic details were that civil war had
reached the Somali capital much more quickly than anyone in the embassy had
anticipated.Anarchy reigned supreme
with gangs looting and killing in the streets—and escalating violent battles
between President Barre’s troops and the Somali rebels.Barrages of artillery shells exploded,
destroying neighborhoods and businesses. Heavy machine gun fire began ripping
into the walls of the embassy compound .The PAS officer at the time recalled that 'We couldn't save ourselves.
Either we were going to get blown away or somebody was going to save us.'At one point armed looters swarmed the
embassy gates demanding that they be opened.Again, this same PAS officer remembers her terror at they screamed their
demands but then recalls that the looters happened to look up at the roof of
the embassy where Marines were perched with giant rifles trained down on the
Somalis.She then heard them shout
‘Igaralli ahow’…which roughly translates to ‘sorry, our bad, we didn’t mean
it.’
Despite this
show of force, the city descended further into chaos and the Ambassador knew
that they needed to get out.On the 2nd
of January he made the request for a NEO.What transpired over the next
three days was one of the most smoothly executed non-combatant evacuation
operations in history.At 245AM on January 4th, two massive Marine
CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopters lifted off the deck of the USS Guam Amphibious
Assault Ship.They would refuel twice in
air over the next 4 hours and 460 miles.Just after 6 AM the two helos landed on the embassy compound. As the
American community huddled inside the compound many were unsure if they were
going to make it out alive but then they heard the familiar chop of approaching
helicopters and as the twin helicopters landed inside the compound the DCM commented
afterwards, "as soon as I saw the word ‘US Marines’ emblazoned on the tails of the
helicopters, I knew we would be ok."
“I knew we
would be ok”.
An hour later they first wave of 60
evacuees took off amidst scattered gunfire. That same morning, the Embassy
released a report on the deteriorating situation that described the corpses
littered outside the embassy walls, and the embassy building itself taking a
direct hit from an RPG.
Later the next night, the USS Guam
was close enough for five Marine CH-46 helos to fly to the embassy under the
cover of night and evac the remaining civilians. In
the end, over 250 americans and foreign nationals (including the entire Soviet
embassy) were rescued in less than 24 hours by the Navy-Marine Corps team.
-----
Back on
Fonte Hill in Guam, Capt Wilson and his men had been fighting since midnight
through the darkened, rainy muddy hillside.US naval ships would fire white illumination shells to light up the sky
over the Japanese front lines.Somehow,
he led his 200 men in repulsing 7 successive waves of attacks from the enemy
battalions of thousands throughout the night—much of it hand to hand combat. During this withering gunfire Wilson was shot
three times in the shoulders and knee.At
one point, he spied one of his marines lying wounded 50 yards in front of him,
unable to move.
He sprinted
into the open amidst blistering gunfire and pulled the helpless marine back to
safety As the sun started to peak over
the horizon, Wilson’s men conducted an inventory of their ammunition…it was
almost gone.
Capt. Wilson
directed his men to fix bayonets. (pause) Because
when the going gets tough, that’s what Marines do—they fix bayonets. (pause)
Wilson and
his men prepared themselves for a final battle against impossible odds.And then a miracle, they heard the rumble and
creaks of the tanks that they’d requested some four hours earlier lumbering
into sight.The enemy immediately shifted
their attacks on the tanks.
Capt Wilson used
this distraction to lead a group of 17 marines to attack the headquarters on
the hilltop.As they fought their way to
the top, marine after marine was struck down by machine gun fire and mortar
shrapnel.But they pressed on returning
fire.By the time they captured the hill
top, only 4 of the 17 had survived and 350 enemy troops lay dead. When Capt
Wilson returned to the United States after the war, President Truman awarded
him the medal of honor for his bravery in the face of overwhelming odds.Nearly
50 years later, he would be awarded the Guam Medal of Valor on 21 July—today
celebrated as Guam’s Liberation day.
Wilson would
go on to become the Commandant of the Marine Corps and would rescue the Corps
from a dark period of discipline problems, rampant drug use, obesity and low
morale and recruitment following the Vietnam War.Wilson’s command presence as Commandant was a
thing of legend--the Secretary of Defense at the time liked to tell a story
about an old gunnery sergeant who lost 13 pounds just by keeping a picture of
the Commandant in his refrigerator.
General
Wilson is known as the father of the modern marine corps and importantly fought
on Capitol Hill to become the first Marine Commandant to serve as a full member
of the Joint Chiefs—an incredible accomplishment for a service that other
components once argued for the abolition of.He shaped the Marine Corps into
the service we know today—an expeditionary and ready force with integrated firepower
on land, air and sea—quite simply, the best fighting force on the planet.
---
Now, I’ve
spent much of this speech extolling the virtues of the Marine Corps and one
marine in particular but the people I would most like to honor tonight are the
heroes among us.These are the brave men
and women—the marines--that have pledged to protect us each and every day here
in Tana.They have deployed all around the globe in
service to our nation—from Afghanistan to Okinawa to India to Berlin to Peru to
Thailand to Mexico City.
And I would
like to close this speech tonight by acknowledging and thanking these heroes
among us—the members of Marine Security Guard Antananarivo:Sgt Kight from Ozark, Missouri, Staff
Sergeant Guittierrez from Miami, Sgt Hattabaugh (had ah baw) from Dudley, Massachusetts, Corporal Bates from Alberquerque
New Mexico, Sgt. Leoni and Sgt Arcia from Naples, Florida, Sgt. Frey from
Euless, Texas, and Cpl Castillo from the Phillipines.
Now, as you can see tonight, Marines take their balls (pause) seriously, so seriously in fact
that the official “Marine Officer’s Guide” has a special section dedicated to
Marine Corps Balls. In that section it
states this: There is only one ironclad rule for the birthday ball: Make it a
good one.
So I’d like
to read former Commandant of the Marine Corps Lou Wilson’s own Marine Corps
ball speech from 1978 in its entirety.Instead
of a traditional speech, he penned a short poem and entitled it LOVE.
“The wonderful love of a beautiful maid,
The love of a staunch true man,
The love of a baby, unafraid,
Have existed since time began.
But the greatest of loves, The quintessence of loves.
even greater than that of a mother,
Is the tender, passionate, infinite love,
of one drunken Marine for another.
"Semper Fidelis”
NOTES: I provide a quasi-bibliography here. I use the term 'quasi' because I didn't write this speech like I would a paper for publication. My focus for this speech was on telling a specific story/narrative--NOT on getting all the rewording and properly citing everything (so large historical sections I just cut and pasted, condensed and reworded a little as needed). I started out with a vague notion that I wanted to talk about General Lou Wilson and the Marine Security Guard program--so that's where I began my research--and down the black hole I went. So if you are a history nerd, my apologies for any inaccuracies--my intent was not a precise retelling but a conveyance of a feeling. Hope you enjoyed.
UPDATE: I brought back this tip with me stateside for some of those sporty short flights on regionals in the western US.
The first in a series of post offering professional tips for Foreign Area Officers. As a FAO you will likely find yourself doing a fair share of travel on small, regional, aged, dated aircraft of questionable safety and sanitary standards--especially if you cover more than one country such as the case for me.
When there is so much that you CAN'T control--its important to control the things you can. Below is my ode to that most essential of travel aids: VAPORUB.
ODE TO VAPO RUB
As I board the crowded dated plane
i'm oppressed by the stale stank air
stagnant and seeping hot.
a cold bead of sweat
peels
down my side
As the last passengers are
crammed and shoved inside
I am slapped with such
a stankfunkystink
that I nearly gag
heart racing panic descends
as I am assaulted
my every effort consumes me
to not wrench my disgusted face
in the direction...directions?!
of this ancient sour stench
Surely I hope
surely you are with me
my confidant my savior
ahh yes, yes
you rest silently in my pocket
the smooth small curves of your cylinder body
always at the ready
Quickly I uncap you
my fingers dive in and swing
from your eucalyptus branches
heavens
I plunge your menthol rub the
into my nostrils to
and soaring
goes my countenance
as I am enveloped in your
analgesic caress
that blocks out and protects me
from the vile olfactory siege
laid up on me.
I close my eyes and smile
safely ensconced in your
mentholated eucalyptol
arms.
I came across this book doing a google search on Comoran poetry--a topic that I haven't looked into much before. My previous research had only been into Malagasy poets and among them I have only covered the incomparable romantic poet Rabearivelo:
in a few weeks expect some highlighted Comoran poems. 
