Climate Shift: Have you met the Snowers? The secret, diligent fairy People of the Snow?…
Some years ago, in early October, I opened the front door on a hunch – and there she was, the fluffy, enchanting, first snowfall. And just in front of me, on the doorstep – lo and behold – there they were. The Snowers. The People of the Snow. I’d never met them before. Never seen them before. The Snowers…
This post is not a piece of fiction.
[Note of late: I realize I've used "ado" instead of "teen." "Ado" (plural "ados") is short, in French, for "adolescent," or "teenager." An "ado" is a "teen."]
No Snow, nicht Schnee, pas d'neige... Where on Earth has all of the snow gone? ...
The Climate! It’s warming! No, it’s cooling! It’s man-made! No, it’s not!
May I?…
In matter of “climate,” allow me for a moment to be a heretic. Or an agnostic. As for modern science and as for the present debate. At least for today. For this post.
“Climate” is a very vast concept, anyway.
Not that I’m indifferent to the whole question of “climate change” or “climate unchange.”
Simply I’m feeling some kind of growing unease toward the “debate.”
I see intelligent people getting slowly sucked in a debate on climate change, in a debate on “global warming” vs “global cooling” that is in great danger of becoming more and more like some kind of undebatable “global confusion.”
More and more often, the “debate” borders on fanaticism, with its cortège of useless persifflage. Bad signs of the times. I’m becoming circumspect. I don’t want to get sucked in the swirling vortex of “yes it’s not, you idiot!” or “yes it is, you idiot!”, whatever “it” would be, coud be, can, or can’t be. Or is. I try not to be sucked in, and I won’t completely succeed, I know it, and “completely succeeding” isn’t my purpose anyway. I always hear “sucks” when I hear “success.” Ts’like some kinda built-in crude semantic wink of wisdom, and I say “thanks” when wisdom lurks that way and winks.
I know I wont completely succeed. I’ll fail. Right now. Because I want to mention from the start that I’m not an Al Gore fan. To put it bluntly: I don’t trust him. By instinct. The guy has “profits,” “money,” “success,” “hoopla,” “establishment,” written all over his over-nourished body, smile and portfolio. That being said, having clearly failed at not being sucked in the debate, let’s enjoy the freedom, and let’s proceed further.
I’ve seen photos showing parts of Canada, or the US, and other parts of the world, where it snows – and apparently it’s not supposed to snow there – whether at this time of year, or at any other time, depending. That’s what I understand. And it’s also supposed to prove something. It could. But it certainly doesn’t prove the “it’s warming” part of the debate. I’m also convinced that it doesn’t disprove it either.
Because where I live, the whole place should be lavishly covered with snow since the beginning of October. And as to November 20 (today), nicht Schnee, no snow, pas d’neige! Temperature yesterday: mild. 13 C (55.4 F). It’s not cold, it’s not even winter. In the context of the debate, it’s also supposed to prove something. It could. But it certainly doesn’t prove the “it’s cooling” part of the debate. And I’m convinced it doesn’t disprove it either.
Let’s face it: “here,” as well as “over there,” are both located on the same Planet.
Climate seems to be shifting, though. Well, presently, it is shifting! Signs of a long-term tendency? Qui vivra verra.
And the People of the Snow? The Snowers? Les Neigeurs? Patience. We’re coming to them.
In any event, here I am, contributing (ahem) to the debate, writing this post.
Writing this post to tell the whole world that where I live, in the Laurentian Mountains, in Québec (actually, in the Haute Matawinie region, far from the touristic ghetto of the Tremblant region westward), as of today (November 20, 2009 – I started jotting down words for this post on November 17), I should have been shoveling snow in spades for more than a month and a half…
And I haven’t yet.
Not that I don’t want to.
Actually, I’m one of those strange people who are in love with winter, and like so many of them, I’m especially endeared to the first snowfall. It’s magical. It’s erotic. It’s astral. It’s Vivaldi. It’s sweetness and light.
I’m coming to the Snowers.
There’s something about “climate” that I’ve not heard or read about over the internet – I don’t pretend it’s absolutly absent, that’s impossible, I’m sure, but it’s certainly absent from the “mainstream-internet- serious-debate-about- climate.”
That “something” missing is related to the following.
And this is not fiction.
Some years ago, in early October (2001, or 2002), first days of October, in the evening, it was the first snowfall, I was excited, t’was like champaign in the air, I opened the front door on a hunch.
Yes, there she was, fluffy, fresh and refreshing, white, abundant, enchanting, the first snowfall sensually showering all over the village where I live.
But there was something else.
Just in front of me, on the doorstep – lo and behold – there they were. Who? The People of the Snow, pardi!
Never heard of them?
Grande Bardane (Great Burdock; Arctium Lappa). "Petite Bardane, Grande Bardane, Lesser Burdock, Great Burdock, Petite Ourse, Grande Ourse - Bur, Bar, Bear - Petit Bär, Grand Bär... Arctique... Arctium... Pôle Nord! Lappa!" Tiens, ça pourrait faire une sorte de comptine pour enfants, pour sages, pour enfants sages, pour sages enfants, pour sagefemmes, pour sageommes, pour tous ceux, pour toutes celles qui en ont vraiment ras-le-bol qu'on leur jamais dit que les plantes sauvages et les constellations d'étoiles se parlent... Grand Bär, Grande Ourse, Petit Bär, Petite Ourse... Le ciel est sur terre, la terre est au ciel... Arrêtez d'massacrer les plantes sauvages, les constellations aiment vraiment pas ça - et après ça on se plaint d'avoir perdu l'Nord. Grand Bär, Grande Ourse, Petit Bär, Petite Ourse. Liens d'ourses invisibles entre étoiles et plantes, entre ciel et terre. Puissantes et ténues antennes. Cordes sur Ciel.
1 – Premier univers parallèle.
Imaginez un plant de Bardane :-)
Prenez-le avec vos mains et posez-le devant vous sur la table.
Vous ne pouvez pas.
On ne peut pas le faire: l’imagination est une autre dimension que la dimension “physique” ou tri-dimensionnelle dans laquelle on vit à l’état de veille.
L’imagination est un univers contigu, oui. Mais autre.
C’est un univers parallèle.
Un univers parallèle avec lequel on est en contact depuis qu’on est au monde.
*
2 – Deuxième univers parallèle.
Pensez à ce que vous aimez le plus.
Pensez-y bien.
Vous allez éprouver une émotion.
On connait l’importance des émotions, des “moods”. Ça peut faire la différence entre échec et succès, entre avoir ou ne pas avoir un accident d’automobile ou de bicyclette, entre se couper ou pas se couper en découpant des légumes, etc.
Cette émotion, prenez-là et posez-la devant vous sur la table.
Regardez-là, déplacez-là vers la tasse de thé ou de café, poussez un peu dessus sur la table…
Vous ne pouvez pas.
Vous ne pouvez pas prendre cette émotion entre vos doigts et la poser sur le rebord de la fenêtre, ou au centre de la table, ou la photographier, ou lui faire prendre sa douche.
Les émotions appartiennent, elles aussi, à une autre dimension.
Une dimension autre avec laquelle on est en contact depuis qu’on est au monde.
Les choses de l’imagination, comme les choses émotives, ne relèvent pas de la tri-dimensionnalité dans laquelle on vit physiquement, à l’état de veille.
Elles ont leurs racines dans une autre dimension.
Ce sont des univers parallèle.
*
3 – Troisième univers parallèle.
Glissez votre doigt, ou votre joue, ou votre nez sur une surface (pas trop rugueuse!) en vous concentrant sur la sensation que vous éprouvez.
C’est fait.
On continue.
Prenez cette sensation et posez-la devant vous sur la table.
Là encore, on ne peut pas.
La sensation n’est pas tridimensionnelle, la sensation n’est pas, strictement parlant, physique, elle appartient, elle aussi, à une autre dimension, une dimension parallèle.
Les sensations ne sont pas physiques au sens où on l’entend ordinairement.
Pourtant, c’est cette sensorialité qui nous fait “toucher” les choses.
Les cinq sens participent au jeu.
Les cinq sens perçoivent ou éprouvent sensoriellement ce qui nous entoure, y compris notre corps. Ce qui pourrait vouloir dire que le corps physique, au fond, nous est inconnu (et constitue, à toutes fins pratiques, un univers parallèle à lui tout seul). Fouillez ça…
En fait, le corps “physique” nous est probablement infiniment plus inconnu que des univers parallèles comme l’imagination ou le royaume des émotions.
On connaît les sensations. Mais le corps physique, c’est quoi? Toute la connaissance du corps physique nous est donné à travers des sensations, des perceptions, qu’on ne peut manipuler comme des objets…
Les sensations, finalement, semblent bien plus voiler le “corps physique”, qu’elles ne nous le révèlent.
La sensation semble bien appartenir, elle aussi, à un univers parallèle.
*
Conclusion.
Essentiellement: beaucoup de choses qui semblent évidentes et aller de soi, ne sont pas évidentes et ne vont pas de soi.
On commence à vivre quand on s’en aperçoit.
*
Post-Scriptum.
Une forme peut-elle être à l’origine de toutes les formes?…
_______________________________________
© Copyright Loup Kibiloki – Électrodes – 2009
_______________________________________
[ Tags in-post: - - méditation - ]
Blogsurfer.us - Blog Catalog – Icerocket - Blogiche – Technorati -
Un ballon dans un cochon (poème absurde ou comptine ou chanson – mélodie inconnue).
Le Ticane m'a inspiré une (autre) comptine dadaïste... (Photo d'un Ticane prise avec un appareil babilémien. Pour avoir une idée de c'est quoi un Ticane, faites un clic avec la souris sur l'image. Pour ne pas avoir une idée de c'est quoi un Ticane, faites pas clic avec la souris sur l'image. Je vous avoue tout de suite que je sais pas encore tout sur les Ticanes. Oui, c'est hi-han d'pas savoir tout.)
Une bourrique
dans une barrique.
Un cochon
dans un ballon.
Un moustique
électronique
trouve une queue
en tirebouchon,
une queue d’âne
électronique,
du boudin
dans un ballon,
une barrique
bourrée de briques
pleines de vers
et de moustiques,
de questions
et de répliques,
qui grimacent
et qui mastiquent.
Une barrique
dans une bourrique.
Un ballon
dans un cochon.
"Et moi, là-dedans?..." "Mais voyons, Tortue, t'as déjà ta comptine..." (Cliquez sur elle, vous allez voir...)
_______________________________________
© Copyright Loup Kibiloki – Électrodes – 2009
_______________________________________
[ Tags in-post: - comptine dadaïste - Ticane - ]
Blogsurfer.us - Blog Catalog – Icerocket - Blogiche – Technorati -
Blaise Cendrars
Pâques à New York
*
Seigneur, c’est aujourd’hui le jour de votre Nom,
J’ai lu dans un vieux livre la geste de votre Passion,
Et votre angoisse et vos efforts et vos bonnes paroles
Qui pleurent dans le livre, doucement monotones.
Un moine d’un vieux temps me parle de votre mort.
Il traçait votre histoire avec des lettres d’or
Dans un missel, posé sur ses genoux.
Il travaillait pieusement en s’inspirant de Vous.
À l’abri de l’autel, assis dans sa robe blanche,
il travaillait lentement du lundi au dimanche.
Les heures s’arrêtaient au seuil de son retrait.
Lui, s’oubliait, penché sur votre portrait.
À vêpres, quand les cloches psalmodiaient dans la tour,
Le bon frère ne savait si c’était son amour
Ou si c’était le Vôtre, Seigneur, ou votre Père
Qui battait à grands coups les portes du monastère.
Je suis comme ce bon moine, ce soir, je suis inquiet.
Dans la chambre à côté, un être triste et muet
Censorship: Western leaders, like Obama, are still lecturing others (this time China).
President Obama: Don’t Lecture China on Censorship
Excerpts from Article by Dave Lindorff – The Public Record – Nov 16th, 2009 – and some comments by Loup Kibiloki.
Oh yes, you can censor - and you do. And it shows. And we know. And Chinese people know. And it's the same everywhere in the world with the power that be, they're addicted to it, including leaders in Canada, Uk, France, Germany, and so on - censorship is everywhere in the mass media, it's everywhere, including in US and in your mouth. Stop behaving as though you were not morally stark naked like all the others. It's becoming more and more useless. And terribly ridiculous. We see it.
[Yes, there is censorship in China. But what about North-America?]
Excerpt from Dave Lindorff’s article:
And yet America is hardly free of censorship. Heck, the president himself has gone to court to prevent the release of photographs of US troops torturing captives in Iraq, Afghanistan and at Guantanamo. Talk about censorship! But it goes way beyond just such crude, totalitarian style control over information.
Let’s just take the issue of depleted uranium weapons, over 1000 tons of which have been expended in the US invasion of Iraq, most of it in populated areas where millions remain exposed to the radioactive dust of the burned material. There is almost no reporting on this topic in the US media. The Pentagon has for years lied about and hidden the effects of this deadly substance, used in shells, bombs and bullets because of its unique ability to penetrate hard steel armor and concrete bunker walls.
It has refused to disclose where the weapons were fired, and has denied US troops the tests that would show if they have been contaminated. It has even resorted to having paid Pentagon hacks surreptitiously libel, slander and otherwise undermine those military sources and journalists who have tried to expose this scourge (this reporter has been the target of such disinformation attacks).
End of excerpt.
[ One should read the other excerpt that follows, from Lindorff's article, then read it again. It won't be a waste of time. I've been aware for years of what is described in that excerpt.]
Other excerpt from Lindorff’s article:
One thing I learned from living and working as a journalist and journalism teacher in China back in the 1990s is that the Chinese people, with their long experience of living in a totalitarian dictatorship in which all media are owned and tightly controlled by the state and the ruling Communist Party, are acutely aware that they are being lied to and that the truth is being hidden from them. Accordingly, they have learned to read between the lines, to pick up subtle hints in news articles which honest journalists have learned how to slip into their carefully controlled reports. They have also developed a sophisticated private system of person-to-person reporting called xiaodao xiaoxi or, literally, “back-alley news.”
Der Fisch (Le Poisson) – Nouvelle bizarre et fantastique de l’écrivain Jacques Renaud.
Fantasy Fish - Poisson Fantastique - de Elen Christof - Source et lien en cliquant sur l'image.
C’est une nouvelle étrange, certains pourraient même la considérer comme “prophétique” (elle date de 1984 – et le Mur de Berlin sera détruit 5 ans plus tard, en 1989).
C’est une nouvelle fantastique, humoristique, très “tongue-in-cheek” – et en même temps très symbolique. Une pièce d’anthologie, très certainement: “Le Poisson arriva de l’Est à cinq heures de l’après-midi vers la fin du mois d’octobre et se plaça en queue à la station souterraine de métro Friedrich-Strasse pour passer à Berlin-Ouest…”
Et tout ce qui va s’ensuivre…
Der Fisch (lien vers le texte original complet: cliquer ici), de l’écrivain québécois Jacques Renaud (auteur de Le Cassé), a été écrite à Berlin-Ouest, Martin Strasse, en 1984, cinq ans avant la destruction du Mur de Berlin.
L’histoire décrit comment Der Fisch (Le Poisson), le personnage principal de l’histoire, mit fin à l’existence du Mur de Berlin, convaincu que Berlin-Ouest était une piscine. Apparemment, Der Fisch avait raison.
Cette nouvelle au titre allemand – mais écrite en langue française – a été publiée pour la première fois au printemps 1987, en France, dans la revue Brèves, No 24/25, dans un “Spécial Québec” préparé et présenté par Serge Safran.
La même nouvelle a été reprise plus tard dans L ‘Espace du Diable de Jacques Renaud, en septembre 1989, un peu plus d’un mois avant la destruction du Mauer (Die “Mâouâ”) le 9 novembre 1989. L’Espace du Diable est épuisé.
(Lien vers le texte original complet de Der Fisch de Jacques Renaud; cliquer ici.)
_______________________________________
© Copyright Loup Kibiloki – Électrodes – 2009
_______________________________________
[ Tags in-post: La fin du mur de Berlin - La chute du mur de Berlin - fiction - réalité - poisson - ichtyophobe - Jacques Renaud - Le Poisson - Der Fisch - Berlin - Berlin-Ouest - Mur de Berlin - mort et renaissance - phoenix - auteur québécois - écrivain québécois - auteur de Le Cassé - une nouvelle des années 80 - ]
En passant, la liberté d’expression semble s’être écroulée avec le Mur… si elle existait vraiment avant… À vous d’en juger:
Excerpt:
“Prof. Pappe wrote an open letter to the mayor [of Munich], stating that “in the 1930s my father, a German Jew, was silenced in a similar manner [in Germany], and I am saddened to discover the same censorship in 2009 [in Germany].” “
Blogsurfer.us - Blog Catalog – Icerocket - Blogiche – Technorati -
Se pourrait-il que "nos" "démocraties" se dirigent, à leur tour, vers ça?...
La guillotine… Je méditais, comme ça, sur l’Histoire.
Et je me demandais.
Je me posais la question.
Nos élus sont-ils suffisamment doués de conscience ou de raison pour préférer plutôt la création et l’application, par exemple, d’une simple loi du rappel permettant, selon des modalités simples et facilement exécutables, de chasser des parlements, des législatures, des assemblées nationales, les représentants qui ne rendent pas compte, trahissent leur mandat, mentent systématiquement pendant les campagnes électorales et après, favorisent les privilégiés, jouent à la loto avec l’argent des populations, s’en mettent plein les poches, narguent les populations, conspirent pour détruire les acquis sociaux, sabotent le système d’éducation, sympathisent passivement ou activement avec des régimes génocidaires, etc.?
Le rituel du petit x: une sorte de rituel voudou paralysant, une sorte de pacte volontaire de soumission et d'impuissance... (Illustration: ce superbe nu est un autre des rares chefs-d'oeuvre d'art pictural de Loup Kibiloki. On observera la maîtrise extrêmement sophistiquée de la souris et du médium électronique (l'imbattable MsPaint), l'aise aérienne des courbes, ainsi que les infinies nuances subliminales de la palette de couleurs utilisée. Le modèle a insisté pour demeurer anonyme.)
Le jour du vote, tout se passe comme si nous tombions dans un piège.
Le piège de nous jeter à nous-mêmes un sort en traçant le petit “x” magique sur le bout de papier.
C’est comme un sort qu’on se jette et qui nous emprisonne dans une soumission hypnotique, paralysante, qui va durer plusieurs années.
Étrange pacte.
Le vote, tel que nous le pratiquons, évoque une sorte de pacte de soumission implicite conclu avec les forces qu’incarnent les maîtres de nos sociétés.
Comme si le tracé du petit “x” constituait un rituel. Un rituel dont la magie agit subliminalement avec une puissance renversante quand on s’y arrête.
Après le tracé du petit “x”, nous serons “liés”, “scellés” par le rituel, nous serons paralysés pendant des années.
Nous nous taierons ou nous chialerons et nous nous épuiserons à nous taire ou à chialer pendant des années. Mais jusqu’à la fin du mandat électoral, nous aurons laissé les menteurs qui nous dominent agir librement contre nos intérêts ou contre notre volonté exprimée.
La démocratie, nous l’aurons (apparemment) vécue pendant quelques secondes, sur un mode fantasmatique et illusoire, le temps de tracer le “x” rituel sur le bout de papier. Comme une croix de Saint-André sur laquelle on s’étend et à laquelle le rituel nous enchaîne et sur laquelle il nous torture et nous étouffe depuis tellement longtemps que nous ne le sentons plus.
Nous aurons vécu la démocratie sur un mode hallucinatoire, illusoire, comme ces gens qui se vantent d’être les citoyens libres de l’une des “grandes démocraties” occidentales (n’importe laquelle) et qui, pendant des heures, chaque jour, obéissent à l’injonction: “Toi, tais-toi, reste assis, et écoute.” C’est exactement ce que dit implicitement le téléviseur chaque fois qu’on l’ouvre, chaque fois qu’on le tournonne. La radio ne vaut guère mieux. C’était aussi ce que disaient implicitement le curé, jadis, ou l’archevêque, le cardinal, le prélat, quand ils montaient en chaire pour prononcer un sermon devant les fidèles: “Toi, tais-toi, reste assis, et écoute.” On n’arrête pas le progrès…
Astounding 2009 Nobel Prize for Literature genius Joan de Blow never wrote a book! She talks about Obama.
President Obama celebrating his Nobel Peace Prize. Source: click on illustration.
2009 Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded to astounding genius author Joan de Blow for all the books she never wrote.
Actually, she never wrote any.
She declared today in Oslo, Norway: “I see it as an incentive, maybe I should learn the alphabet…”
She says she spoke with 2009 Nobel Peace Prize who told her he felt the same about his own award. According to Ms. de Blow, US president mumbled: “Probably an incentive for something, don’t know what, now must go back home, must send more troops…” She added: “He really looked fuzzy, but really fuzzy this poor Irish guy O’Bama, maybe because he got just a piece, a nobel piece they call it, not the same complete one I got, kind of a downer for him, probably didn’t know what to make out of it, ts’like a car and no wheels, ts’like a cartridge and no gun, funny…” She giggled.
The wearing of The Nobel Prize Gold Medal for Literature by Joan de Blow. The smile and the six glittering tears of joy are included with the kit. The same kit was remitted to President Obama who already has a rich collection of similar large smiles as well as some very rare specimen of tears that he enjoys wearing sometimes, although in very rare occasions, like his predecessor. "They're cool," says Joan de Blow," speaking about the smile and the tears, and she says and repeats that often. "I don't have the choice," says Ms. de Blow with her large, strange, almost surrealistic literary smile, "I can't write that down," adding, with a deep emotion, after gulping lots of air with her large, almost pantagruelic mouth: "I'm oral."
Then speaking about all the praise she received for the extraordinary inexistent masterpieces she never produced, she said: “I’ve always felt rather aloof towards those things, you know, what they call “letters,” they make me squirk and sneeze, but I like medals, they’re ready-made, you don’t have to learn them, don’t have to earn them, they sell well… I think the committee understood that… They’re cool…”
Joan de Blow, who hates to walk and has always favored taking taxis and cabs, is going back home in Vancouver, Canada, for the Olympics: “I was told my gold medal was ready over there too… I find it really nice… I won’t even have to run the thing, the “marathon,” I was told – just go, get the medal… They’ll do the rest for me. They’re really kind. I’ll have to climb on the podium, though, but I was told I’d get a huge bonus for that, it’ll pay the lift…” For a moment, she had a dreamy eye, then she added: “It’s probably the same committee everywhere… Ts’like Gawd…” She looked really inspired. Joan de Blow is universally considered by her peers, said an official and literary critic who insisted to remain anonymous, as one of the most charismatic contemporary author of her kind.
- 30 -
That being said, what follows is neither satire nor fiction: “On the 8th of october, a day prior to the Nobel Committee’s decision, the US congress granted Obama a 680-billion-dollar defense authorization bill, which is slated to finance the process of military escalation…”
Neither this: “Within hours of the decision of the Norwegian Nobel committee, Obama met with the War Council, or should we call it the “Peace Council”. This meeting had been carefully scheduled to coincide with that of the Norwegian Nobel committee…”
Other excerpt from same article by Michel Chossudovsky:
Waging Total War against Planet Earth and Human Genes: nuclear radiation weapons and Uranium 238 (DU).
An array of depleted uranium missiles used on battlefields.
Since 1945, nuclear war has been raging against Planet Earth, against human genes, against the whole billion-year genetic heritage and wonder of this home-planet we love. It is obvious. Right in our face. The evidence is overwhelming. It has never stopped. It is still raging today. It is raging right now, while you read this. Working on this post made me realize it even more. It’s so clear. It’s never been so evident, so clear. And there is a good deal of chance that US and NATO are presently preparing the coup de grâce, this time with something much more massively lethal than depleted uranium: atomic bombs, be it “mini-nukes” or not, or other weapons, as destructive of genes or long-term health or survival as nuclear radiations can be (Dangerous Crossroads : US expands Asian NATO against China, Russia; that article, on present-day US and NATO geopolitical and military buildup against Asia, deserve to be read completely, keeping in mind that the US military adhere, at least since 2006, as stated by the end of the article I’ve just linked above, to the doctrine of “preemptive” nuclear first strike.)
[Note: This post was part of an other one - "Do you remember Chernobyl..." which was becoming way too long. This segment here was all about DU; it has been cut from the other post, rewritten, with many pertinent new links and pdf files added (see end of post), and published here as a new post.]
“Described as the Trojan Horse of nuclear war, depleted uranium is the weapon that keeps killing. The half-life of Uranium-238 [depleted uranium] is 4.5 billion years, the age of the earth. And, as Uranium-238 decays into daughter radioactive products, in four steps before turning into lead, it continues to release more radiation at each step. There is no way to turn it off, and there is no way to clean it up. It meets the US Government’s own definition of Weapons of Mass Destruction.” (Depleted Uranium: The Trojan Horse of Nuclear War, Leuren Moret, Geoscientist, The Journal of International Issues, July 2004.)
Children in the Punjab are increasingly born with birth defects. The phenomenon may well be due to depleted uranium carried over by wind currents from Afghanistan which is 330 miles from India's Punjab. (Photo: Money Sharma / EPA)
Children in the Punjab are increasingly born with birth defects, according to an article published on Thursday, August 27, 2009, on TruthOut. The phenomenon may well be due to contamination by depleted uranium (uranium 238) carried over by wind currents from Afghanistan. Wind currents, dust winds, can travel thousands of kilometers. We seem to forget that “over there” has always been everywhere, which includes “here” and anywhere.
Excerpt:
Afghan War’s Blowback for India’s Children? War Insanity seems to be blowing with the wind – Article by J. Sri Raman on TruthOut.
Children born with abnormally enlarged or small heads, disproportionately short arms and legs, cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, and other complications. Increasing instances of infertility among women. A spurt in cases of lung cancer and intestinal ulcer.
Punjab, a state in India bordering Pakistan, has reason to be concerned about this scary picture emerging from surveys recently carried out in some of its areas. Not only Punjab, however.
Punjab is in the North of India, bordering on Pakistan in the East, which is bordering on Afghanistan.
According to a section of the researchers particularly concerned with the cases of birth deformities, Punjab may be paying with the health of its people for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.
More precisely, depleted uranium reportedly used in wars in these countries may be the cause of the deformities and disorders on the rise in India’s northwestern state, according to a team based in the city of Faridkot.
Winds from Afghanistan may have carried to the state a large quantity of highly toxic uranium, which has contaminated water and increased uranium in bodies to dangerous levels. This apprehension was raised at least five months ago by the team of the Baba Farid Center for Special Children, a nongovernmental organization (NGO), where some of the affected kids have been undergoing treatment.
This map is from Leuren Moret's 2004 document: "Depleted Uranium: The Trojan Horse of Nuclear War." Link at the end of the post. The article dates back to 2003-2004; we are in October 2009. Observe that the right circle of DU contamination covers Indian Punjab, among other regions (re: Sri Raman's article). Leuren Moret and many others were right years ago. Moret's explanation of this map reads as follows: "Map of regions within a 1000 mile radius of Baghdad and Afghanistan which have been contaminated with depleted uranium since 1991. Depleted uranium dust will be repeatedly recycled throughout this dry region, and also carried around the world. According to Moret, more than ten times the amount of radiation released during the thermonuclear bomb atmospheric testing period has been released from depleted uranium since 1991.
In what would appear to be a scandalously successful cover-up, the question raised by the team has been kept away from major headlines in the Indian and international media, with New Delhi seeing no need even to take cognizance of it.
In a downplayed report, which the most prominent media did not consider deserving of better display, Dr. Pritpal Singh, in charge of the Faridkot clinic, said the number of affected children had risen “dramatically in the past six or seven years.” Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan was launched on October 7, 2001.
The use of DU weapons in the Iraq war, started on March 20, 2003, may also have contributed to the tragic drama in Punjab, according to the team. The radioactive uranium, released in such cases, gets mixed in soil, air and water within a large radius. Areas within 1,000 miles from the place where the uranium is released can get affected. Parts of Iraq close to Iran fall within that distance. Afghanistan is just over 330 miles away from India’s Punjab.
Evidently, children of Pakistan, which occupies this distance, have also been exposed to the same danger. So are their counterparts in areas [of] India adjoining Punjab.
[End of excerpt.]
RSS - Posts
Loup Kibiloki
