Sweet Simcha

Ben Golani

Bombs, Terror and Sweet Simcha By Binjamin Golani

March 28, 2025

It’s hard to believe that I wrote this over a year ago and yet here we are again. The difference is that this time it’s the missiles exploding that keeps us awake.

And Simcha, still wanting to play and make everything good.

It’s two fifteen in the morning and the low roar of the F15s flying overhead on their constant patrols wakens me once again. Even with the gentle hum of the window fan we use for “white noise” the deep throated vibration disturbs my slumber and my body tenses from the stress of “is this just another sortie, or is this the real thing?”

The airplane banks overhead and begins its wide turn that takes it over the Hermon Mountain Range, across the Jordan valley and then down the Lebanese border back into central Israel across the Kinneret or Sea of Galilee.

Ever since October’s Black Sabbath, just over six months ago, aerial patrols and strikes into Syria and Lebanon have become a fact of life and a constant physical reminder to those of us in the Golan Heights that we are indeed at war. The noise should be reassuring and logically is, most of the time. During the daylight hours we look upward to see the aircraft as they fly overhead. It’s somewhat difficult spotting the planes as they fly so high and so fast. You have to judge elevation by the noise intensity and then look ahead of where the sound appears to be. Sometimes you are lucky and get a glimpse of an F15, F16 or F35. Other times you are fooled because an aircraft may have made a tight turn and is going back towards the sound.

But, as I said earlier, reassuring as it should be, I find the sound after six months beginning to wear on my war weary mind. This is the eleventh major conflict I have been involved in and it is the longest and most conflicted one.

A few days ago my PTSD damaged mind finally gave into the sound and I broke down in tears from the stress. As I sat in our yard with my head in my hands weeping, my long-haired German Shepherd Simcha, (joy in Hebrew), came and gently laid her massive shaggy head in my lap. She looked up at me with her big doleful eyes and gently licked me. I broke into a torrent of tears and slowly the tension began to subside. Whatever dark recess of my mind that had allowed the ghosts of the past to emerge, slowly closed their doors and the demons receded.

I’m sure many of us in Israel have felt this overwhelming sorrow of late but not all of us have a Simcha to help us through it. Sensing my change in mood it was now her turn for some attention. It was payback time and this two year old bundle of love wanted some serious playtime in return for her affection.

The days rolled on until one morning the news we had expected but dreaded arrived. Iran, the state sponsor of global terror, had finally decided to launch an attack on Israel. We were warned that a massive missile attack had been launched and that we were situated between 1 1⁄2 to two hours before the onslaught depending on which type of projectile was launched. Take your pick; UAVs, ballistic and cruise missiles–so while we waited our erstwhile cousins in Lebanon were upping their quota of Quassam and Katyusha short range rockets.

My eyes caught the view across the valley of the Yarden or River Jordan, which was as always beautiful. Below the massive mound of Mount Canaan the lights of Rosh Pina and Hazor Hagalil twinkled in the night-time darkness whilst the crown of the mountain was lit from the lights of Birya. Hazor which is where the prophet Joshua, the protege of Moses fought his final battle after entering the land some 3500 years ago after the years of exile in Egypt then the saga of the Exodus. This area was about to witness yet another onslaught against the children of Yisrael.

The lights continued to twinkle reassuringly and there was an unusual quiet to the night as if the whole countryside was holding its breath in anticipation. Either the airplanes had gone back to base to rearm and fuel or they were heading eastwards through Syria to meet the coming onslaught.

The attack itself was not entirely unexpected as saber rattling had been going on for days, if not weeks. What did surprise me though was a rush of messages from friends in Britain and even the USA asking if all was well and ensuring us that we were in their thoughts and prayers.

Since I had spent most of the night awake from my adrenaline waiting for whatever would befall us, there was nothing much to do but wait. So as any good Brit would do in a crisis, I went to  make myself a cup of tea and settle down while I waited.

At 1:45 a.m. the home front alarm on my phone started blaring out warnings of attack after attack and this now came faster than I could read them. So far, the majority of the strikes were in the south in the empty expanses of the Negev desert. Suddenly my eye caught the glow of a red orb slowly rising into the sky in the direction of Tiberius, the ancient Roman and biblical city on the Kinneret. I knew at that moment that it had started. The orb rises into the sky reminiscent of happier days long ago when people would sit and watch Roman Candles throw their orbs into the night sky on July Fourth or Bonfire Night to the delight of the children. This time though the purpose was far more deadly as a sudden bright flash indicated. At least one missile would not now reach its target thanks to the amazing Iron Dome system of air defense that has saved so many lives since its first deployment in 2011. Countless thousands of rockets have been fired into Israel since 2007 when Hamas took control of the Gaza strip and Hezbollah the Iranian proxy in Lebanon and since then  jointly fire frequent and indiscriminate rockets into Israel. The financial cost of stopping these rockets is outrageous and yet without the Iron Dome it is only a guess to calculate the cost in lost human lives. 

The sound of explosions began to echo up and down the valley and the loud boom of an exploding rocket knocked out by our defenses. The Iron Dome is able to track and compute the speed, direction and probable landing point of the incoming missiles so only fires at those that it deems are likely to hit populated areas. Even so the cost of each missile is around 60,000 dollars–Millions of dollars that could have been spent on schools, hospitals or used for scientific exploration to the benefit of mankind have been used instead to knock rockets out of the sky launched by ultra religious fanatical muslims.

Surprisingly the attack was over very quickly and the initial reports started to come in. The only reported injury was a young Bedouin girl who had sustained shrapnel injuries and some buildings which were hit on an airbase. Truly a miracle was being witnessed this night but to what extent we still did not know.

The night returned to its solemnity, the aircraft had returned to base and no more explosions were to be heard in the valley. I took one last look out of the window, amazed that so little damage or injury had been caused, then finally headed off to the comfort of my bed for a couple of hours of sleep.

Suddenly I was awakened by the shrill air raid siren rising and falling and warning us we had 30 seconds to get to our safe room. This time we were the target, we had slept in our clothes knowing that this possibility might happen so we grabbed an emergency bag and of course Simcha, who thought this was just a fun game.  We headed for our alcove beneath the stairs. This time the sound of the Iron Dome interceptions were much louder, like a clap of thunder directly over our heads, but much more ominous as we understood the danger that the shrapnel from these rockets could cause. Again after what seemed a very short time it was over, and the sudden silence reminded me of tales my Grandfather had told me about how after an artillery barrage in WW1 the sudden silence was almost as oppressive as the noise of the bombardment itself. All hell for 15 minutes then silence like the grave as your ears returned to normal. Later that morning we found out that a rocket, probably a Katushkya, had indeed landed in our town. Without taking any of the credit away from the members of the IDF and IAF who had all done an amazing job that night the real credit has to go to the Almighty without whom our country would lay a smoking patch of land with untold casualties.

The rocket that had landed in the town had impacted about two meters from a concrete and rock wall topped by an iron fence into the only patch of soft dirt in the vicinity. The rock wall directed the blast away from the houses across the street and threw small clods of dirt and small stones some two blocks away. There were several fruit trees on the piece of ground and it was easy to see how the roots of the trees also helped to contain the blast and direct it away from the houses some ten to fifteen meters away. All around the point of impact there were multi story dwellings that could easily have been hit and destroyed. Had the rocket landed on the other side of the brick wall it would have buried itself into a cobblestone road made with three kilo bricks. Each one of those bricks could have become missiles themselves and the damage they would have caused is not hard to imagine. However, the only damage and it was slight, was to a nearby car, the railing on top of the wall and several solar panels damaged by clods of dirt thrown into the air by the impact. 

ince that night, it has been confirmed that some three hundred projectiles were fired at Israel on that occasion. The vast majority were either shot down by the armed forces of Israel and the Iron Dome and possibly some of our so-called allies, while others were allowed to fall into open areas.

Thanks to the Creator only one major injury occurred that night and we pray that she recovers to full health speedily.

All in all the attack was a complete and miserable failure as far as Iran is concerned. With the largest missile attack in history being launched against us, our defenses stood up to the test and humiliated the aggressor.

In the ensuing days the aircraft have resumed their patrols and attacks on targets inside Lebanon, but the noise of their passage still grates on my nerves.

Even though I know the commitment of our brave soldiers and pilots, their skill, dedication and commitment continually amaze me but above all I give thanks to the Eternal for his mercy and guidance.

I am also grateful to my wife, Ariella and dear friends for their encouragement and support. Lastly, my sweet puppy Simcha, I know it’s time to play–Again!

Gaza and Sudan

By Ben Golani

A Study On Genocide and Starvation

Thirty plus years ago I sat on the beach at Luanda, the capital of Angola and wrote the poem “Oh Africa”. (Link at end of article)

I had spent a good many years living in various conflict countries on that continent and had seen first hand the fall of empires and the return of lands to the indigenous peoples.

Harare, once the beautiful capital of Rhodesia, well run and well maintained, had in twelve short years become a country that was rife with corruption and lacking in most basic amenities. Short of electricity with the infrastructure collapsing anyone who could get out. Others not so lucky stayed and took their chances, often leading to their demise,brutal murder and rape on isolated farms throughout the country.

RSA; then still a modern country well run and still thriving even during the transition period but soon to go down the same road as Rhodesia.

Uganda “The Pearl Of Africa”, decimated and ruined by the monstrous dictator Amin who was overthrown and cast into exile in 1979, thirteen years before. Kampala, the capital, still had the malibu storks walking across the lawns of the Nile Hotel seeking the rotting bodies of Amin’s victims. Also corrupt and with potholes in the streets that could hold a bus. At the time I was there Kampala also boasted one of the highest AIDS populations (it was called comically “slim”) with some 75% of the male population infected.

Entebbe airport where the “old terminal” of Raid on Entebbe fame still bore the pockmarks from the assault that led to the release of the Israeli hostages in 1976. Now a modern international airport but wracked by corruption.

“Do you have a visa? Sorry, that’s not the right one. 50 US dollars for me and 50 for my boss and I can get you the right one”!

The list goes on and on but that is for another day.

The Author “Gone Native” Dressed in traditional Turkana warrior dress NW Kenya.

The Conflict In Sudan
We had flown to Angola to assist with the relocation of refugees. A peace treaty was signed and hopes were high that the Civil war which had lasted since 1975 was finally coming to an end. As it happened the conflict continued until 2002, another 10 years down the road from when I was there. The hope was that refugees could be brought back from surrounding countries and stability could at last be found.

We had been operating out of a dirt airstrip in north west Kenya in a small Turkhanna village that was little more than a collection of grass huts with a few tin shacks for the more wealthy!

Our camp, with armed guards from the UN, was surrounded by a barbed wire fence and the tents we slept in were far more “modern” than the primitive living quarters of our neighbors. It was common to see all sorts of wildlife around the camp drawn no doubt by the smells and trash that we produced.

We were flying Lockheed L382 Hercules aircraft with a payload in excess of 36,000 pounds.

Daily we would deliver by airdrop some five airplane loads into Southern Sudan, now The Democratic Republic Of South Sudan. The airdrops were well organized, precise and subjected the people of Sudan to far more aid than could be driven into the area. The drop zone was marked with a giant X and it was very unusual not to get a bullseye when dropping. Our crews were made up of a lot of pilots from the Vietnam war era who were experts at low flying airdrops. Unlike the several countries who attempted to airdrop into Azz (Gaza). The ineptitude of the crews dropping their so-called “humanitarian aid” is absolutely mind boggling! But that again is another story.

So why do I begin my tale with this story?

There have been three civil wars and numerous coups in Sudan since its independence in 1956.

In the civil war or The Anyanya Rebellion, from 1955 to 1972, some over 500,000 to 1 million people, of whom only one in five was considered an armed combatant, were killed while hundreds of thousands more were forced to leave their homes.

More than one million people were estimated to have been displaced.

The Author somewhere over Africa

The second Sudanese Civil War lasted from 1983 to 2005.

In the late 1980s, the Second Sudanese Civil War uprooted around 20,000 South Sudanese boys alone. They walked thousands of miles through Ethiopia to the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya. Some estimates claim that nearly half of the refugees died along the way due to starvation, dehydration and disease. Once in Kenya, the South Sudanese refugees were accepted into various foreign countries, roughly 4,000 of whom came to the United States. These 4,000 young men pursued higher education and eventually became scholars and authors in their own rights. In 2004, James Disco and Susan Clark created the graphic novel “Echoes of the Lost Boys”, which tells the story of four South Sudanese young men as they integrate into American society.(1)

I actually met with some of the “Lost Boys” whilst participating in the airdrop program.

During the war the Sudanese Armed Forces revived the use of enslavement as a weapon against the south, and particularly Christian prisoners of war, on the basis that Islamic law purportedly allowed it.

Muraheleen, armed Baggara herders, were enlisted as militia by the Sudanese government as a low cost part of its counterinsurgency war against the rebel Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army (SPLM/A), which was identified with the Dinka tribe of southern Sudan.These militias often destroyed Christian villages, executed all their males and then took the women and children as slaves.The first slave raid on the Dinka took place in February 1986. Two thousand women and children were taken. In a second raid, in February 1987, one thousand women and children were taken. Once the raiders acquired enough booty they would distribute the captives between themselves and their families. The raids continued every year after.

Dinka girls kept in northern Sudanese households were used as sex slaves. Some of them were sold in Libya. Western visitors noted that at slave markets, five or even more slaves could be bought for one rifle. Near the peak of the civil war in 1989, female black slaves were sold for 90 dollars at the slave markets. Several years later, the price of an average female black slave had dropped to $15. Many Western organisations traveled to Sudan with funds to purchase and emancipate these enslaved captives. (2)

The second Sudanese civil war from 1983 to 2005 killed an estimated two million people, with widespread documentation of famine and atrocities. (3)

The Darfur genocide of 2003 to 2005 left some 300,000 dead and some almost 3 million people displaced. The number of young women sold into slavery I cannot even find a figure for.

I have no idea where they found these numbers but I CAN tell you that people were dropping like flies, the rivers were clogged with bodies and the crocodiles literally had a feast day.

I remember once in one of the refugee camps, and these were REAL refugees, a father walking into the camp carrying the corpse of his dead child. He had carried the corpse for three days and of course it was in an advanced state of putrefaction. The father begged us to take him to see the western doctor because he truly believed that the child could be brought back from the dead!
Tragedies of this sort were commonplace.

Understanding the wars in Sudan is a complicated process going back many hundreds of years.

In a nutshell and very basically the northern part of Sudan is dominantly Muslim and regard themselves as arabs. The southern part of the country identify as black African Christians whilst the west of the country, Darfur, is a mixture of tribes and cultures that go back to pre colonial times.

Southern Sudan has oil – go figure – and it is also very fertile, whilst the north is situated next to the Sahara desert and has a relatively narrow strip of fertile land along the edge of the River Nile. Darfur in the west is an arid and mostly dry area with little or no agriculture or other means of sustaining itself.

As with all the other colonial countries Britain did a great job of carving up the Sudan into a manageable country to their benefit instead of making three countries based on religious, ethnicity, tribal and cultural boundaries.

All in all since 1956 in reality an unknown amount of people have been butchered,raped, displaced and sold as slaves and some 2 million people are estimated to have died. I find that figure rather low.

Famine alone has killed an estimated 522,000 children, while the overall death toll of the war, including fatalities from violence, starvation, and disease, is even higher; thousands more remain missing or have been killed in targeted massacres, primarily attributed to the RSF and allied militias. At least 61,000 people have died in Khartoum State alone, of which 26,000 were a direct result of the violence. As of 5 February 2025, over 8.8 million were internally displaced and more than 3.5 million others had fled the country as refugees. In August 2024, the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) Famine Review Committee (FRC) confirmed famine conditions in parts of North Darfur. (4)

Southern Sudan is a country of some almost 16 million people with a land area of just over 644,000 square kilometers.

Northern Sudan has a population of around 51 1/2 million people with a land area of almost two million square kilometers.

Sudan, before splitting into North and South, was the largest country on the African continent and the area of Khartoum State, the capital State is 22,142 square kilometres now compare that to the size of Israel which is 21,937 km² with a total (Jew, Arab and Christian) population of some 10 million.

It is almost impossible to get anywhere near an accurate number for civilian deaths in Azza as it is well known and documented that the so called Gaza health ministry juggles figures to suit itself and that a large number of the so called civilian casualties were in fact Hamas terrorists. But even so, let’s take Al Jazeers figure and say that some 50,000 people have died. That includes ALL people, combatants and civilians alike! If you want to be reasonable lets say half the people killed were combatants that’s around 25,000.

So in the past year alone 61,000 died in Sudan of which 26,000 were a direct result of violence and the other 35,000 died from preventable sickness and starvation.
Those 61,000 people did not cross into sovereign territory and murder 1200 innocent people. They did not teach their children in their kindergartens to kill and maim Jews, mainly because they do not have any schools anymore and even if they did they are so malnourished they would not be able to attend. They did not fire rockets indiscriminately from schools and hospitals into a civilian population. They did not send fire kites to decimate and destroy over 4 million acres of farm crops. They were not given a land to call their own in 2005 as the so called palestinians were. They did not spend millions upon millions of dollars donated by the European union and its woke partners in Canada, Australia and elsewhere on building a tunnel system that even after a year and a half of searching has not yet been fully uncovered. And yet where is the outcry? Where is the disgust at a war that has been going on for almost 70 years – as long as I have been alive! I can promise you that if the people of Southern Sudan and Darfur were put into “refugee” camps like the fakestianians live in they would think they were in paradise. Just like in Syria, the government of Sudan was not against using chemical weapons on their own peoples.

The Sudanese civil wars have resulted in a staggering number of deaths. Estimates for the two major civil wars (1955-1972 and 1983-2005) combined range from 2 to 3 million fatalities, with a significant portion attributable to famine and disease. The current conflict, which began in 2023, is estimated to have resulted in over 150,000 deaths.

I hear the cry from the disgustingly but obviously pro Arab UN saying 14,000 babies would die in Gaza from starvation in a 48 hour period. Then the so-called under secretary general said that that was not what he meant!

Just like so called entertainers and shoe companies that make blatant lying statements the claim was retracted the next day. Great. Make a statement that the whole world sees and the woke idiots believe then say it was not what was meant. One of the oldest and best ways to get advertisements in the book.

Sadly since Bob Geldof started Band Aid back in the 1980s the vast majority of so called entertainers and politicians have jumped on the palestinian free advertisement bandwagon instead of putting their efforts into actually doing something about world famine.

Billions upon billions of dollars are poured into Gaza in a never ending stream of “humanitarian” aid and yet Israel is accused of “starving” the people there. If aid is not resumed then there will be children dying in the streets, goes the cry. Where were the cries about the Warsaw ghetto? Where were the cries about the concentration camps? Where were the cries when Boko Harem murdered, raped and beheaded Christians because they were Christians?

The list is endless.

Billions upon billions are spent on more and more efficient ways of killing people with more and more complex weaponry and yet we still cannot put an end to the tyranny in Yemen and Iran and other dictatorships around the world.

Again the list goes on and on.

Gaza is a problem because the Arab population made a problem for themselves and the majority of Gazans would vote Hamas back into power today. (5)

They celebrate death as we celebrate life and because we choose life we are condemned by the world.

Did that father carrying his dead baby all those years ago really believe that there was hope for his child, that the great doctors of the west could save his child? If he did then what are we doing spending so much time and money on weapons of war instead of instruments of peace.

The Sudanese did not want a war. They were forced into it and it continues now 30 years after I wrote my poem. Why? Because nobody cares about Sudan or the Sudanese people. They don’t wear a classy keffiyah and it’s not hip. There are no so called entertainers or sports people crying out for them and the governments wont get any votes by bringing the issues to the table. Sudan does not pump millions upon millions of dollars into western universities to promote their left wing agenda and because the country is so poor and backwards Soros, Gates et al have no interest in it other than to promote their GMO foods and vaccines to be tested on a people that do not (sic) matter anyway.

61,000 dead in one province in Sudan last year alone. 50,000 supposedly dead in Gaza in a war that is supported by the very people who claim that they are being victimized but who actually started the war in the first place and who are being given aid by the very people that they hate and want destroyed.

In 2024, the EU mobilized €260 million (almost 296 million dollars US) for the humanitarian response in Sudan and in neighboring countries. This included €147 (just over 167 million dollars US) million for the response inside Northern Sudan (6) for a population of more than 50 million people.

Gaza on the other hand. In 2024, the European Union has allocated €237 million (almost 270 million dollars US) in humanitarian funding channeled via international NGOs, the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies and UN agencies. (7) This for a population of 2.1 million.

In other words from the European Union each Sudanese person received $3.34 each in 2024 , compared with each person in Gaza receiving $128.57 that is more than 38 times more!

I have talked about just one country in Africa. I could write about other countries as well but is there any point?

“Oh Africa oh Africa how long must there remain, all the pointless suffering and all the needless pain.”

Here is my LINK to my poem: Oh Africa.

(1) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Sudanese_Civil_War#Child_soldiers

(2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Sudanese_Civil_War#Revival_of_slavery

(3) https://www.cfr.org/global-conflict-tracker/conflict/power-struggle-sudan#:~:text=The%20second%20Sudanese%20civil%20war,the%20Republic%20of%20South%20Sudan.

(4) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sudanese_civil_war_(2023%E2%80%93present)#:~:te

5) If only two candidates were in the competition for the presidency, Mahmoud Abbas of Fatah and Khalid Mishal of Hamas, turnout would drop to 47%. In this case, among the actual voters Mishal stands at 68% and Abbas at 25%. Seven months ago, only 24% among the actual voters chose Abbas and 74% chose Hamas’s candidate.
https://www.pcpsr.org/en/node/997#:~:text=If%20only%20two,chose%20Hamas%E2%80%99s%20candidate.

(6) https://civil-protection-humanitarian-aid.ec.europa.eu/where/africa/sudan_en

(7) https://civil-protection-humanitarian-aid.ec.europa.eu/news-stories/stories/eu-humanitarian-efforts-gaza-lifeline-amidst-destruction_en#:~:text=In%202024%2C%20the%20European%20Union,ground%20at%20great%20personal%20risk.

xt=alone%20has%20killed,%5B38%5D

(5)If only two candidates were in the competition for the presidency, Mahmoud Abbas of Fatah and Khalid Mishal of Hamas, turnout would drop to 47%. In this case, among the actual voters Mishal stands at 68% and Abbas at 25%. Seven months ago, only 24% among the actual voters chose Abbas and 74% chose Hamas’s candidate.

https://www.pcpsr.org/en/node/997#:~:text=If%20only%20two,chose%20Hamas%E2%80%99s%20candidate.

(6) https://civil-protection-humanitarian-aid.ec.europa.eu/where/africa/sudan_en

(7)https://civil-protection-humanitarian-aid.ec.europa.eu/news-stories/stories/eu-humanitarian-efforts-gaza-lifeline-amidst-destruction_en#:~:text=In%202024%2C%20the%20European%20Union,ground%20at%20great%20personal%20risk.View draft history

The Myth of From Time Immemorial

It always surprise’s me that people think of Israel as the “new kid on the block”.
They assume that the Arab “nation’s” have been around since the dinosaurs and yet this is so far from the truth.
After the break up of the Ottoman Empire the middle east and north Africa was split between Britain and France and except for Egypt, Iraq and Saudi Arabia none of the so called Arab countries existed. They were all byproducts of the descent of empire’s. Even Saudi Arabia was only a mostly band of Bedouin clan’s until aft WWII.
Here are the dates that the modern arab nations became nation states after being granted independence from France and Britain after the end of WWI and the fall of the ottoman empire which ruled those lands for around 500 years!
With astonished gratitude to wiki for supplying the dates.

Israel                 May 14 1948
Syria                   April 17 1946
Lebanon            November 22 1943 French troops completed withdrawal Aug 31 1946
Jordan               May 25 1946
Iraq                      Oct 3 1932
Saudi Arabia    Sept 23 1932
Kuwait                 June 19 1961
Bahrain                Aug 15 1971
Qatar                   Sept 3 1971
UAE                      Dec 2 1971
Dubai                   Dec 2 1971
Oman/Musqat 1951
Yemen                1967 Britain still had troops in Aden when I joined the air force in 1971!
Egypt                  Feb 28 1922
Libya                    Dec 24 1951

As you can see eight out of fourteen of the so called arab nations are not as old as Israel.
The majority of them were either emirates or run by local Sultans and sheiks under the auspices of the Turkish Ottoman empire.
Libya was Italian and the people are north African.
In reality Egyptians are not arabs, they are Egyptians.
Iraqis are not arabs they are Persian
Lebanese are a mixture of ethnicity but they are certainly not arabs.
Arabs come from Arabia _ a distinct and different ethnicity and culture. Yes they have intermingled and mixed with the various other cultures but like the Libyans, Iraqis and Egyptians they are a distinctly different race.

Traveling Man

Traveling Man  

I have seen the Great White Nile from its source down to the sea
I have swum in the Zambezi Neath the bridge of liberty
I have crossed the mighty Congo, seen the Hippos in their pools
Floated down the Amazon, seen piranha in their schools.
I have fished the Mississippi seen the Orinoco flow
But of all these mighty rivers there is only one I know,
Will bring me back once again to the place that I call home
The sweet Missouri river is the one I love to roam.

I have crossed the Serengeti heard the lion roar at night
Seen the Kalahari and the Bushmen hunt and fight
I have lived in the Sahara with its sand and dust and flies
And wondered in the outback seen the Southern Cross at night
But across these mighty tundra’s I will never roam again
For I would rather see Missouri with its gentle rolling plains
Of cotton, corn and sweet gum trees glistening in the rain
And that sweet Missouri homestead which causes me much pain
When it’s time for me to leave it and hit the road again

I have climbed the giant Andes seen the Condor soar on high
And driven up the Drakensburg heard Hyenas hue and cry
I have wondered in the Alpine vales picked Edelweiss touched with dew
And now I wish I had the chance to pick one just for you
But for all these mighty mountains I’d rather be at home
And stroll about the Ozarks with their sweetly smelling loam
For in all my worldly travels, I have never been
To a land quite like Missouri with its majestic scenes.

I have travelled our great nation from sea to shining sea
Crossed the Golden Gate and seen the Maid of Liberty
I have ridden all the highways and byways far and near
But of all these winding ribbons there’s only one that I hold dear
66 I’ve travelled from Chicago to LA
But 44s the one that brings me closer every day
To that sweet Missouri homestead and the place I want to lay,
Back home in Missouri is the place I want to stay.

And when they lay me down to rest after  my time is done
They will say although of English birth to Mo he was a son
He came and saw and wondered at a beauty so serene
And that in all his worldly travels he had never seen
A land quite like Missouri and the places  that he loved
He died a happy rolling stone blessed by God above              

Happy Journey

Happy Journey  

6 20 1992 Lae Papua Nui Guinea
Inspired by the passing of my friend’s father

His time is almost over and his course through life now run
He must make his preparations now Happy Journey has begun
He will gather prize possessions – two pigs his wife and son
Then return to his Wantok village to wait for death to come

He gathers all the clansmen from the village where he stayed
Thanks them for their hospitality and makes sure that he’s paid
For his lodgings and protection in this place so far from home
Then asks them for their blessings on the journey he must roam.

Though his life is almost ended he fears not death at all
For his father and his ancestors are waiting in the pall
To guide his spirit onward to the Altogeta place
And to make his journey one of beauty and of grace.

At his Wantok village he is welcomed by his kin
His body is then purified to wash away his sins
He checks all burial arrangements and then inspects his grave
Makes sure the wake is ready then with a final wave.
He enters the village Long Haus where old spirits come to pass
Advice onto the village through the elders and high class
He calls his family to him to say his last farewells
Then bids them leave him on his own, with the Bishu man to dwell

He must not be interrupted with their sadness and their tears
Though the spirits gather closer yet still he has no fears
He hears his father calling him as he did when he was young
His heart gives up, he breathes his last – Happy Journey has begun.

They leave him in the Long Haus for a night and then a day
They kill his pig to honor him and give him wealth upon his way
They eat the meat and drink the beer and sing the happy songs
To help his spirit travel onward to where it now belongs

The man who will now bury him does not come from his clan
For the sadness of his kinsmen would spoil his happy plan
Then his spirit would not journey but would always have to dwell
In the place where all sad spirits go and that place would be hell.

And so his neighbor buries him the second pig is his to claim
For his efforts with the digging and relieving them from the pain
For making sure the passing with dignity was done
And for helping Happy Journey now that it has begun.

Little Ballerina

Little Ballerina     27 12 1991

Written for my beautiful daughter Deborah

Little Ballerina up there on the stage
You have a grace and beauty that far exceeds your age
In your Tutu and your makeup, with your talent and precision
Little Ballerina dancing to the music’s rhythm

Little Ballerina on the day that you were born
I took you in my arms while you were still so warm
From the heat that generated inside your mother’s womb
Little Ballerina please don’t grow up to soon

Little Ballerina I watched you start to grow
I watched you as you learnt to walk, when you first stood on your toes
I listened to your sweet voice as you whispered your first words
Little Ballerina you were seen and often heard!

Little Ballerina until the day I die
I will look at your sweet innocence and I will wonder why
How something of such beauty could ever come my way
Little Ballerina dance for me on that day.

Little Ballerina dancing to the music’s rhythm
I hope someday you will understand all the pleasure you have given
To your father and your mother, to your family and friends
Little Ballerina – please dance for me again
(I love you Debs)

Mosquito

Mosquito 30 12 1991
After yet another bout!!!

An anopheles mosquito came and bit me in the night
She passed on her malaria and now I have a fight
To get rid of the falciparum before I go insane
Oh Anopheles Mosquito please don’t bite me again!

Beach Boy

Beach Boy

26 12 1991 on the beach Luanda Angola.
We used to hire the Beach Boys to watch our things while we went swimming and this about a little boy Domingo who had nothing in the world to call his own

Beach Boy – living on the sand
With no name or family, no one to lend a hand
You saw your parents murdered for trying to make a stand
Against the evil regime that has swept across your land.

Beach Boy – living all alone
A cardboard box and sacking is what you call your home
You never had a pillow or a bed to call your own
And you never had a blanket to keep the cold from out your bones.

Beach Boy – you survive on only what you steal
Or beg from other people – to me it seems unreal
That you carry on regardless of the hardship and the pain
And you always have a smile when you hear me call your name.

Beach Boy – growing up will be so hard for you
You will get no formal education; you will never go to school
You will never know the pleasure of your mother’s gentle touch
Or hear your father’s praises as he watches you grow up.

Beach Boy – can you see what the future holds?
For you and others like you as you join the adult fold
Will your life be filled with happiness or only deep despair?
And if I return to that beach someday will I still find you there?

Beach Boy – with your crooked cross eyed smile
I look at you – then wonder for a while
Do you understand what’s happening, do you even really care?
About the world beyond the beach
Beach Boy don’t despair.

Oh Africa

Oh Africa
Inspired by the works of Bob Geldof and Nelson Mandela

Christmas Day Luanda Angola 1992

Oh Africa Oh Africa how long must there remain
All the pointless suffering and all the needless pain

I came to make my fortune in this far flung foreign land
I found instead a suffering that had got out of hand
I found brother fighting brother
I found famine and disease
I found mothers with their children begging food on bended knees

I recall Angola with all its civil strife
And I recall that nations bleeding from the gun and from the knife
I recall the young men home from war with their shattered limbs and minds
And I wonder will it ever stop or go on for all time.

They told me there was peace there now
They told me it had stopped
That all men would be free to choose – it does not take a lot
But I still see young men fighting that crazy bloody war
And I wonder will I ever see their guns thrown on the floor

Brothers walking arm in arm
Sisters hand in hand
We must help to bring the peace back to this ravished blood soaked land.

I recall the Sudan all the heat and sand and flies
I recall the people starving there – I watched them as they died!
And I recall a young man who came to do his thing
I well recall his efforts to relieve their suffering
But time it has moved on now
And I cannot fathom why
Whenever I’m in Sudan I still see people die
From hunger and starvation
Why can’t we make a plan?
To put an end to all the famine
We have to make a stand
We have to tell the people of the world they must unite
To help the little children to escape from their sad plight.

I recall South Africa and I recall with shame
The injustice of apartied and the fight to clear the name
Of one man who had dared to tell the world about the fight
Against the world’s most unjust system
That set the black against the white
They put him in a prison cell for twenty years and five
And with all his tortuous suffering it’s a wonder he’s alive
To tell of that cruel system that cannot now survive.
White men embrace black men
The time is now at hand
To end all of the injustice
We have to make a stand
If it means a change of culture why can’t we make a plan?
To live our lives in harmony in this most beautiful of lands

I recall Uganda, Ethiopia and Zaire
And I recall the evil men who did the damage here
Mengistu, Amin Mobutu
It fills my soul with pain
To think that we did not even try to stop their mindless games.
How many times must children die in abject poverty?
How many people die alone in the great monstrosities?
Where one man rules a nation and rapes the people’s minds
Then stands them up against a wall _ oh God we must be blind
To allow the dictators time to make their evil plans
To carry on the terror
It’s now time to make a stand.
Brothers, Sisters, Mothers, Sons, Fathers and Daughters black or white
To remove this cancer from the world we must begin to fight
We must all stand together
We must try to work it out
Or another man will take their place of this I have no doubt
We must remove the shackles that have tied the people’s souls
We must offer them the freedom to seek out their own goals
We must open up the food stores – throw away the gun and knife
And open up our hearts and minds to build them a better life

If we don’t act now it will be too late and another generation
Will grow up with the hopelessness of this one’s degradation.

Oh Africa you seductive whore how long must there remain
All the pointless suffering and all the needless pain

It’s time for me to leave you now, all the things that I have seen
Will leave a mark upon my life, all the places that I’ve been
Oh Africa, Oh Africa, you always will remain
Inside my soul, inside my mind
Nothing will be the same
I don’t know if I’ll return, I don’t know if I now want to
But I know the things I’ve seen and done will always lead me onto
The fight to free the people of this sun soaked golden land
The fight to end the misery – I now has a plan
The fight to end the squalor, the pain and the starvation
The fight to join the people of this great unity of nations.

Where I have been and what have I seen of this wide world…