haveyoursay

Report From Sudan 5

Have now been in Sudan for two weeks and in Southern Darfur for just over a week. In all that time the temperature has never dropped below 80, either during the day, or so it seems, at night. Having worked and spent months in many countries of Africa, both north and south of the Equator, I have never before experienced the sort of consistent dry heat we have here at the moment.

The climate of this central area almost certainly influenced by the presence of the Sahara desert further to the north. However, yesterday morning everything changed for a while when the wind suddenly decided to blow really hard. Not the pleasant sort of breeze we experience in England but a very hot, almost blistering type of wind, which, combined with the sand and rubble covered streets created a dust storm, providing even more difficulties for people as they made their way around the town. Fine sand particles, together with all types of rubbish, including the highly coloured plastic bags of the cheap supermarket variety, rose up, swirling and dancing around the streets as if there were no tomorrow. Bits of debris flew everywhere, the sand being particularly harsh to bear as it tore into faces and eyes, getting into ones ears and up ones nostrils and generally making life a little less pleasant. As if it wasn’t quite difficult already. It is now that I am beginning to appreciate the traditional style of dress worn by many of the people of the hot and desert lands of the world. White light weight cotton cloth to reflect the heat, a loose covering style to allow air to circulate underneath and with headdresses to keep the sun off the head and to provide coverage for faces where necessary. Unsuitable for many modern occupations but highly practical and probably the only type of garment specially designed to cope with the ever constant grinding and soul destroying heat and the occasional dust storm. Walking in the wind along the streets, I had an appointment to keep which needed to be kept, my eyes soon felt very gritty and it was difficult to see at times as the dust, the dirt and the debris were charging about everywhere and seemed to be coming from all directions. But just as suddenly as it had started, all was calm again, and we were left with a changed scene as the various items of highly coloured rubbish gradually settled into their newly found positions.
At dusk, groups of women can be seen; returning from the fields, riding on donkeys laden with very large bunches of greenery. Fodder for the livestock I suppose. How they managed to climb aboard the donkeys and sit on top of the loads escapes me. Many carts are to be seen moving around the town, with scraggy brown horses pulling sometimes impossible looking loads. The owners I am sure appreciate the value of the livestock and try to look after them as best they can. But life is hard and particularly uncompromising in this region, unlike many others parts of the world. How lucky we are to be living in the English countryside with its ever-changing seasons.
Of the wildlife around Nyala I have only seen a few different species so far. Birds that look in every detail similar to small sparrows are everywhere, and pigeons, also looking remarkably like the English variety, are quite common. Small blackbird sized birds are in abundance, they have what can only be described as having dark fluorescent blue plumage with a very sharp looking beak and are seen rooting for insects on the trees. Occasionally a more exotic variety of small bird can be seen flitting amongst the few trees remaining in the streets. Amongst the buildings many birds can be seen looking for insects. They are not particularly flamboyant, having black heads, dark grey backs and almost white undersides. The shape and plume on the back of the head making them looking similar to the Common Jay in the UK. This morning I came across a group of Ibis, I think that’s what they are called. Largish black and white birds about one meter tall with stalk like legs and very long curved beaks. They were scavenging amongst the rubbish in the middle of the street oblivious to the small amount of traffic and pedestrians moving past. Those, and a few other non-descript varieties are all that are to be seen so far. Domestic animals such as dogs are few in the streets, while cats, as thin as rakes, stalk about the place looking for scraps. On seeing a stranger (a white man dressed in shirt and trousers) they shoot off as though frightened of meeting a fate worse that death. They, and all the other animals, have to compete with the herds of unattended cattle and goats, which also roam around the streets, eating every piece of vegetation they can find. Small lizards are everywhere, scurrying up or lying motionless on walls and roofs waiting for the odd fly to sail past. All manner of crawly insects abound, with large beetle like looking creatures, an inch or so across, quite harmless I have been told, wandering about the floors looking for goodies to eat. Of course the usual ant colonies are everywhere with their ever constant marching armies of thousands, moving remorselessly backward and forward in a steady stream from food supply to store across the floor, before finally disappearing from view in a hole in a wall or a tree, or just underground. Remarkably though, with the rainy season now over, there are relatively few flies and mosquitoes to be seen. Everyone still sleeps under mosquito nets however, and as I caught malaria a few years ago in South Sudan, am taking no chances myself.
Its 11pm and I have just heard my first mosquito of the day buzzing around, so will have to run for cover. TTFN.
Have a nice day.
J.

Report from Sudan 4

Apart from a short stretch of road near the airport, which is of a tarmac construction, probably from material left over when the airstrip was built, all roads in Nyala are just sandy, rock strewn tracks. The town itself, about 2 miles from the airstrip, is in a state of decay, both dusty and dirty.

It is laid out in the usual grid pattern and between the buildings the streets are wide, rocky and pot holed with very uneven surfaces. There are a few trees and bushes dotted here and there providing welcome shade but on the whole it is a town covered in rubbish of all kinds. In places an effort has been made to protect the remaining bushes from the herds of goats and cattle that roam freely around, walls or cages being built around the smaller trees. Many donkeys are to be seen, either pulling carts laden with materials of all types or driven around by small boys selling water from tanks mounted on the back. Three wheel motorcycle type taxis, carrying a maximum of two passengers in relative comfort, are everywhere and are used extensively by the local population, when they need to visit friends and relatives where it is to far to walk. There are few other vehicles, apart from those belonging to the UN and other aid agencies. Most of the lorries seen moving around the town are hired by the agencies to deliver food and other supplies to the refugee and displaced persons camps and to drought affected people in the region. I doubt if many of the residents possess personal transport, apart from maybe a bicycle or an old motorbike. There’s no driving Tommy to school round here. They just walk! Everywhere there is evidence of decay and destruction. Whoever invented plastic bags needs to come to Nyala to see the mess they make. Scattered everywhere, mixing with other general rubbish on the streets and mostly non-biodegradable.

There are few shops to be seen. Those that are open sell basic commodities, and Coca Cola! That’s everywhere. Eating out is not a pleasant experience. The tables are set up on the streets in the evening where the food, and the clientele, gets covered by dust created by passing traffic. A typical chicken and kebab meal for four costs the princely sum of about £4. For four people, not each! Of course, the quality and provenance of the food cannot be guaranteed! One thing which is definitely essential here is a cast iron stomach. There are no knives and forks in this society so food is eaten using pieces of bread as a scoop, held only in the right hand. Many of the local population eat outside, due I imagine, to it being too uncomfortable indoors. It is quite usual to walk in the evening, past groups of men dressed in splendid pure white robes and turbans, sitting in a circle on mats in the middle of the road. They are talking and discussing events of the day, whilst eating food, provided on large flat dishes by residents of nearby houses. Our diet is fairly basic as we generally have the same as the local population. Until the monthly supply of bottled water arrives from Khartoum when a few goodies are included. This morning, for instance I discovered a yoghurt carton unopened in the back of the fridge. It looked a bit swollen and was three weeks past the ‘sell by date’ of October 5th. On peeling back the top, it sort of exploded, spraying a small amount of the contents all over the place. However, the taste had been improved as there was a definite tang when I consumed the remainder! Chicken Eggs are quite a delicacy although such is the poor diet of the chickens that they always have thin white shells and it is almost impossible to distinguish the yolks from the whites. Meat, such as we know it, is practically non-existent. Any you do find is sure to be tough and very scraggy, and practically unchewable. All in all, Westerners survive here. Definitely not, a place to be living in for long.
Before leaving Sudan my travel schedule includes a visit to El Fasher in Northern and El Geneina in Western Dafur. However plans are being laid for a side excursion from here to Garsila. This I have been told, requires a two-day overland journey. Should be an interesting and informative trip. Security throughout the surrounding area, is paramount. Reports are sent back regularly by four-wheel drive vehicles, as they move around the various villages and camps. Daily meetings between agencies, and sometimes between agencies and peacekeepers, (where they exist) are considered normal practice whenever the situation warrants it. Nyala base is typical of other larger agencies where humanitarian work is taking place, all messages from Oxfam vehicles and fixed locations for instance, are received and logged by two local full time radio operators. The radio room itself is rarely, if ever left unattended, and even then arrangements are made for others to be in earshot for emergency calls. The safety and security of personnel override all other considerations.
It is now 11.30pm and the temperature outside is still in the high seventies, if not higher. I am in my bedroom, sitting on a cheap plastic chair, one of the stackable types, sold in the UK for use in the garden. It’s the only chair in the room and I dare not sit on the bed, as the mosquito net is busy preventing the flies and bugs from getting into bed with me when I retire! Apart from the bed and chair there are a couple of small tables and a fairly new wardrobe in one corner with a hat stand in the other. A portable floor fan provides local cooling. Lighting is by a fluorescent tube screwed to the wall above the table with a large three bladed fan occupying the centre of the ceiling. The floor is covered in warm quarry tiles, even late at night. Nothing else, no furnishings or other trappings of western life exist. All the wiring and electrical installations, if this was in the UK, would be considered extremely dangerous. In Sudan it is the norm and perfectly OK as long as you don’t touch anything! It will be a long time before 13amp plugs appear in this part of the world.
I have been sitting here for about an hour writing this piece. My backside, and bottom, feels decidedly damp even with the ceiling and floor fans going full blast. Plastic and bottoms, even with a piece of cloth separating them, don’t go well together in this climate. And we haven’t had a power cut this evening. YET! By my side are a the dregs of a large bottle of water and a bottle of coke together with half a packet of very dry Burtons digestive biscuits. The latter being the remains of my emergency food supply and now so dry that they are in danger of collapsing into component parts! The bottles of water and coke, straight from the fridge, having been consumed within the last hour or so, in a futile attempt to keep myself cool. Such is life in Nyala, principal town in South Darfur. Incidentally, in case you didn’t know, the country of Sudan covers an area larger than the whole of Western Europe.

Have a nice day.
J.

Report from Sudan 3

The temperature here in Nyala is rising fast. Not only in terms of heat, which has been consistently in the high eighties to low nineties during the day with a slight reduction at night, but also in terms of personal frustration at being unable to accomplish many of the tasks I had carefully planned beforehand in the UK and Khartoum. In the one week I have spent here so far, I am about as far forward as I would have been in half a day in the UK. And I am not alone, many of the expats here experience similar problems. Facilities are very basic; every item in terms of food, equipment or spare parts has to be airlifted, at great expense into the region. The most precious commodity here is undoubtedly fresh drinking water.

. At present we are relying entirely upon imported bottled water. Taking water from local sources can be seen as a drain (sorry about the pun) on the meagre amounts stored in the wells. In terms of water, nothing is ever wasted; even the toilet and washing facilities are designed so as to allow the water to be recycled. Where water is available, it is pumped from underground, providing the electricity supply has not been cut off again, and stored in tanks above the buildings. These containers sit in the full glare of the daytime sun getting ever hotter and hotter as time passes. There is no such thing as a cold shower. By evening the water temperature in the tanks has risen to such a degree that hot water flows out of the showerhead. Almost to hot to handle! Incidentally, if you do find a washbasin, the hot and cold taps are the same. They are usually connected together! And every one of us in Martley flushes gallons of good drinking water down the loo every day without giving it a thought.
From first light until dusk the temperature here is over bearing. Combined with dust everywhere it is not a favourable medium in which to work. Visiting the offices of some of the major players in Nyala, such as WFP, UNDP and UNHCR the air conditioning proves a welcome relief from the stifling heat. The temperature inside all stationary vehicles is so great that paper turns brown if left in full view of the sun all day! Consequently, air conditioning is a must when driving around.
The room I sleep in has a ceiling fan and a smaller floor standing fan. Both are operating continuously throughout the night and even with the floor fan directed towards the mosquito net covered bed, I am still not cool. With the electricity cut off, which it usually is anyway, I sweat like a pig.

As an idea of the circumstances in which we work in Darfur, I would count the following as typical. Part of my job entails installing, repairing and programming mobile HF radios for use in and around refugee and displaced persons camps. This method of communication being the only reliable and secure means available during an emergency situation. There are few telephones available here and where they exist are pretty unreliable. Sending e-mail for instance is like watching paint dry. Very, very slow with no guarantee of completion. Anyway, it’s very easy to knock out a telephone system, microwave, mobile or otherwise.
On this assignment the radios had been pre-fitted to the vehicles and were due to be checked over and reprogrammed with the correct networks, stations and frequencies and emergency calls. Programming can be done by hand, a laborious job taking a fair amount of time especially where the network is a large one. Everything had been prepared beforehand, the laptop computer was taken to the first vehicle and plugged in, programming then commenced. Two minutes later the computer crashed, overcome by the heat: before the job was even half finished. My only course of action was to remove computer to a cooler place. Result: Computer working fine, radio programming still not done! We now have to cover the windscreen of each vehicle sometime beforehand: it is even difficult to find some shade, so as to allow the cabin to cool sufficiently for the computer to operate without crashing. And the same procedure needs to be done over and over again until all radios have been programmed! Tomorrow I cause further chaos in the Oxfam Nyala camp as I attempt to program as many of the vehicles as possible in one go. Hopefully in the shade this time. It being a Friday and predominantly a Muslim society here, it’s the only opportunity I may have for an all out assault on the problem.

Regarding rebel activity it is sparse around the area at the moment although there is a need to be always be on your guard. For instance, someone planted a landmine, blowing up an aid vehicle just before I arrived killing both of the occupants. But that’s the only incident of note in the last couple weeks so it’s fairly quiet. After all, I could have struck an unlucky patch myself and been knocked off my bike as I delivered the Villager along the Worcester Road, just as easily.

PS. Must remember to eat food with my right hand!
Have a nice day.
J.

Report from Sudan 2

An entirely unprecedented event has occurred. My personal travel permits have arrived, complete with passport photographs stapled to the A4 documents printed entirely in Arabic. A language of which I have absolutely no knowledge. I know that everyone reads backwards from right to left! Even calendars are marked: sun, sat, fri, thurs, etc.

The authorities provide a completely separate document for each area you expect to visit. They all looked identical but I have been informed that photocopies may not be accepted. This depends a great deal upon the mood of the person, or persons, who ‘need to know’. Anyway, it seems that the application was approved in record time so maybe Tony’s visit did some good after all. Of course it may have been my exceedingly fine passport photographs, which spurred the authorities into action!
The journey to Nyala took nearly three hours at a speed of 350 miles an hour flying at a height of 20,000 feet. I suppose, having glanced at the map, from Khartoum to my destination we travelled around 1000 miles. Which, in terms of distance, is around half way across the country; such is the size of Sudan!
Domestic departures, as against International standards in Khartoum Airport, are a complete shambles. The check in area was the size of a postage stamp in which hundreds of people were all trying to get to one of the desks with loads of boxes, parcels, bags and other sundry items all at once. There are numerous airlines running internal flights in Sudan and from what I could see they were all operating at full capacity the morning I arranged to travel. After a lot of shoving and barging I managed to reach the check in counter with my 30kg or so of luggage to be informed that, before a ticket could be issued, I had to pay an airport tax. To a lady who sat some distance away, surrounded by loads of other passengers all of whom were also paying taxes. Eventually all requirements and formalities were completed, a boarding card was issued and the time came for the next stage of the journey.
The departure lounge was a similar size to the baggage hall except that many rows of metal chairs had been randomly set so as to cause the maximum damage to ones legs. In one corner a refreshment kiosk had been strategically placed, right next door to the ladies and gents loo! And that was it! Passengers were everywhere; I was even convinced that some had been there all night, by the look on their faces. It was now 9.30am and I started out at 6am. The airport being only about half an hours ride from my lodgings! The plane was scheduled to leave prompt at 8am. An announcement on the public address system every so often, by a lady with a very loud voice who held the microphone so close to her mouth that everything came out distorted, resulted in many people suddenly getting up and rushing around trying to force themselves out of the door to the runway. The first time it happened I thought we were in for a terrorist attack!
Eventually, I got quite adept at looking for the boarding cards of these herds, trying to decide whether this was my particular stampede. I spoke to one passenger later who told me that he had joined in three of these exoduses and been sent back each time, just because he was trying to catch the wrong flight! We are so used to announcements and television screens giving times and details of flights that when these are not available you have to rely more on gut instinct than anything else.
With plenty of time to ‘stand and stare’ I noticed a rather peculiar thing. At a guess I would say that over 80 per cent of the people waiting for a flight were Sudanese, about 15% were from other African races and the rest were from various other countries worldwide. With what looked like 5 Europeans although they could have been Americans. And there were probably 4 to 5 hundred people altogether in the hall. Though many people were reading papers, looking at boarding cards, etc, only six were wearing any type of spectacles and of those five, four were white skinned of European ancestry. I now wonder whether many here in the UK really need glasses and maybe people are wooed by the constant adverts reminding us that it is fashionable to wear them? Considering that many thousands of people suffer from eye diseases on the African continent and we were in a region noted for its dusty atmosphere, the lack of eye wear was surprising. Maybe they couldn’t see properly anyway, and just couldn’t afford to purchase glasses.
Eventually, the right time came and we boarded the plane. Which was preceded by the usual x-raying of hand luggage, followed by another physical search of all luggage and body. All this for just an internal flight!
The only unusual incident for me during the flight, was that refreshments were offered at all. Of the passengers, only a small handful took up the offer of food as most were Muslim and everyone fasts during Ramadan. Flying, as we did, fairly low down without the benefit of pressurised cabins, the ground for the whole of the flight was clearly visible. In all the three hours we were in the air, and for a thousand miles I saw nothing but desert. Not soft sandy desert of the Sahara, but a hard looking and parched land with only a few scrub like trees, widely spaced, dotted here and there. No people, no roads, no animals, no nothing. Plenty of evidence was to be seen of old watercourses, appearing as nothing but a depression in the sandy soil now that the rainy season is over. Occasionally the odd row of small trees appeared looking as though they could have once lined a stream. Only twice during the whole journey was any standing water to be seen, two small pools that occurred right towards the end of the flight. A thousand miles of nothing. Truly a desolate and uninviting terrain for mile, after mile, after mile. How lucky we are in the UK with our green countryside and ever changing seasons.
Nyala. October 17th 2004
John
P.S. It’s bloody hot and dusty here. Never dropping below 85, except in the middle of the night. The sweat rolls off just doing nothing!

JL.

Nursery Rhymes

Did you say this rhyme at your school?
Ip, dip, sky blue,
It is not you.
Or maybe this one?

There's a party on the hill
Would you like to come?
Bring your own bread and butter
And your own cream bun.

A local researcher is very interested in your childhood memories of games, rhymes and songs that were used in the playgrounds or streets in Herefordshire and Worcestershire. They would contribute to the first-ever detailed collection of the children's traditional games in the two counties.
You might remember playing games such as Queenie-O, Stuck in the Mud or May I Cross Your Golden River. Perhaps you chanted rhymes as you played ball against the wall or while skipping or clapping. Do you remember how you chose the person who was going to be 'on or 'he' or 'it' in the game?
John Turrell who is putting together material as part of his research at University College Worcester would welcome memories of any games or rhymes used in the counties of Herefordshire and Worcestershire .
He hopes to publish a book on the subject when his research is completed.
He can be contacted by post at:
Beechcroft Leys Lane, Bircher, Leominster. HR6 OAV
or by e-mail to: johnturrell@btconnect.com

Michelle
"Three o'clock is always too early or too late for anything you want to do"
(Jean-Paul Sartre)

Report From Sudan 1

Hopefully, this will be the first direct e-mailed report on my travels in Sudan. Here in Khartoum we have reasonably reliable but slow Internet facilities where connections can easily be made with friends and colleagues left behind. In a couple of days time it may be a different story as I am due to depart Khartoum tomorrow (Friday)for the Darfur area in the west of the country.

It might have been a disastrous start to my trip but for the excellent service provided by Anne and Dave Rogers. For my last few journeys abroad I have arranged to fly from Birmingham Airport. It being less hassle than getting to Heathrow or Gatwick, where most of the destinations I visit can be accessed directly. On a few occasions, Manston in Kent has been my departure point when a convenient transport plane has been available, going in my direction, and I have literally been the only passenger and ‘hitched a lift’. They don’t provide seatbelts on those types of aircraft. Your lucky to get a seat, let alone refreshments!

However, last Tuesday morning Dave Rogers took me to Birmingham airport at the ungodly hour of 04.15 in the morning. In plenty of time to catch a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, and onwards to Cairo and eventually Khartoum.
I checked in, went through passport control as normal and was sitting in the lounge when I realised that I had forgotten my wristwatch. I’m ‘not about’ normally at four in the morning. No bother, have spare watch in luggage! Then, horror struck; where was the security wallet containing my dollar float? A search in the hand luggage revealed all, Nothing! Here I was, sat in the departure lounge of a major airport, at the start of six weeks or so of an assignment. Flying to a country where ONLY cash is acceptable and credit cards are absolutely useless. And I only have about £20 on me! A call home on the mobile phone, at five o’clock in the morning, and the missing wallet, together with watch was found in the bedroom. Another call to Anne Rogers, reckon I woke her up as well, (sorry both), where I found that Dave had not yet returned to Martley. A quick turn round and back he came with the missing items. Brilliant! Reversing my steps, came back out of the departure lounge and collected the missing items off Dave on the forecourt of Birmingham Airport with 15 minutes to spare before departure time. Made it. Not quite by the skin of my teeth, but not very far from it!

The flight to Frankfurt was fine, now there was a five-hour wait for the connecting flight to Cairo, with another wait of one hour while the plane was refuelled and cleaned, and then on to Khartoum.
By the time we touched down it was late at night, the scheduled arrival time being 22.50pm.
Getting through customs was a relatively painless affair. I had previously been advised that it could be a nightmare as all bags are thoroughly searched, and any alcohol, or material with the slightest hint of a pornographic nature is absolutely not permitted. Only last week a colleague had a copy of ‘Hallo’ magazine confiscated as the customs inspector considered some of the pictures to be very risqué!

I now have to wait in Khartoum for a couple of days while travel permits are obtained. At present permission has only have granted to visit the capital and one or two other places such as Port Sudan. Travel outside these areas, especially areas of conflict, requires separate documents; with a different travel permit for each area visited. Having been forewarned of this, I brought out with me 18 passport sized photos! Most have already been used, in only the first couple of days! Incidentally, special permission, with appropriate and correctly stamped and dated documents are needed to take photographs. And never ever in certain locations.

It has always surprised me how I keep coming in contact with the same people over and over again, and in different countries. Already here in Khartoum I have met up with a few colleagues, whom I have not spoken to for many years. I don’t know why, but they always seem to recognise me before I do them, and they normally even recall the last time we worked together in similar situations. Once seen never forgotten, I suppose! This time, for instance, a water engineer by the name of Wingching (he was born in Hong Kong but lives in New Zealand) recognised me, the last time we met was in Goma during the refugee crisis. And that was some years ago now.
Altogether I suppose there are at least five humanitarian aid workers here in Khartoum who have ‘crossed my path’ before, when I was in Sudan, Uganda and Angola.

Everywhere there is dust, dust, dust. It is so bad that people are advised not to wear contact lenses. Anyone suffering respiratory problem are definitely advised to stay away. However, the city itself is bustling with people and vehicles or all types, including donkey carts and three wheel taxis. Traffic management is non existent; there are traffic cops around but non-effective, to the point that congestion become chaotic. I suppose, similar to any other major town in the world, although here only the main thoroughfares are covered in tarmac. All side streets are just sandy dirt tracks. To give you an idea, if the same conditions appertained in the UK, ALL roads around Martley would be unmetalled tracks, including most of the A and all B roads a short distance from Worcester. Where, even there in the city, all side roads would become just tracks, complete with rubbish dumped on the roadside. Roads compete with one another for the largest potholes requiring numerous deviations by vehicles as they navigate precariously around the city. Much, much, worse than our present Worcester City High Street! Have already seen numerous vehicles running around without number plates, even bodies missing and bits dropping off. M.O.T.?Never heard of it here! Accident insurance, don’t make me laugh. Many of the drivers have never seen a driving licence let alone had a lesson!

Yesterday, my first full day in Khartoum was spent in acclimatising to the heat and humidity, which is excessive, and in visiting various of the large UN funded organisations, such as WFP (World Food Program) where much useful information regarding the present situation in communications (my field) can be gleaned. In my particular case, it was time well spent, as one or two
satisfactory answers were provided (I hope) to the problems I expect to encounter during the next few weeks.

Have just been informed that I am flying tomorrow, an early morning flight to Nyala, (its on most decent world maps) where I expect to be busy for the next seven days or so before moving to the next location. Providing there is spare seat on the plane! And room for my luggage. And the plane can get off the ground. And the permits are correct, and, and, ETC.

Another thing that surprises me is the way all these towns, tend to spring off the tongue as though they were familiar places. Nyala, El Fasher and El Beneina. What! You’ve never heard of them? Where have you been?

Next bulletin, when and where I can in between tasks.

October 2004
John Layton
Have a nice day.
Keep taking the tablets!

Earth Stars

How many of you have seen the unusual fungus known as the Earth Star?
Here are some pictures taken by David Harrison in the parish, of this quite rare, very distinctive species.

Also some links to web sites which will tell you more about them. The last
link contains an animation of the earth star opening--you need to wait a few
minutes for all the picturs to load to your computer, (unless you have
broadband).

http://www.tiscali.co.uk/reference/encyclopaedia/wildlife/fungi_common_earth
-star.html
http://www.lincstrust.org.uk/species/fungi/earth_star.html
http://botit.botany.wisc.edu/toms_fungi/dec2003.html

Parish Link Costs

In spite of the marvellous work done by Dave Cropp and others in organizing parish link, at the times my daughter has to travel into Worcester, it costs us nearly £5 per day!! This, for a school going teenager. I know that it is possible to buy a day ticket, when travelling from Worcester, that allows you to roam all day to Birmingham and disticts for £4. Why so expensive in Martley and rural areas? I assume because several different bus companies service the routes and do not talk to each other, so no 'deals' are available. A bus pass for the term is not much cheaper. So, once again, people avoid using the buses and revert to their own vehicles which 'appear' to be cheaper in the short term. If I can help any youngsters with a lift now and then, call me 01886 888318 and we'll set up a club to help each other. No costs involved, just filling up empty spaces in the car. How about it?

Speeding Tractors

Can we do something about the speed the potato/apple (not sure which they) tractors and trailers travel thro our village - they are heavy vehicles, heavily laiden and when they speed thro Berrow Green in the evenings (last night Wednesday 29th Sept the last tractor I heard was after 11.00) they seam to shake the foundations of the house! I am sure they DO NOT keep the speed limit of 30 miles per hour - does anybody know who they work for ?
Judith