Descent: a downwards movement, bad for a fragile object falling or a fragile person tripping. A good thing if you descend from an airless mountaintop or from worthy ancestors. It’s especially useful if you need an inexpensive system of water delivery, for even in the desert there’s the free pressure of gravity. The photo here is taken in a desert during World War Two, one of the many photos my father brought back from the Middle East. It’s captioned simply “Gravity Tank”, taken in North Africa, probably Egypt, in about 1941.
When the Australian government, among others, announced this week they’re sending troops off to Iraq to fight (if only in the skies for now), I thought Here we go again. As I rode past this bin today, the sign “General Waste” reminded me of the futility of war. It might seem an obscure connection, but when you see the page from my father’s anthology of war poetry compiled in about 1942, you’ll think what I thought. First, the bin:
Second, a poem entitled “General Waste”, originally written in World War One by Reverend Geoffrey Studdert Kennedy, who volunteered as a British chaplain to the army on the western front. He was also known as Woodbine Willie for the Woodbines he smoked and handed out to the wounded and dying. But he had a threefold reputation, for he was also a great anti-war poet.
In Dad’s poetry book, I’ve often read “General Waste” and felt the hollowness of war. Studdert Kennedy wrote it in about 1917, but his poems were recalled by soldiers fighting again in World War Two. Dad has called it “General Waste”, though searches online suggest it was called simply “Waste”. There are a few spelling errors in his script, so I’ve transcribed it:
Waste of muscle, waste of brain,
Waste of patience, waste of pain.
Waste of manhood, waste of health,
Waste of beauty, waste of wealth.
Waste of blood, waste of tears,
Waste of youth’s most precious years.
Waste of ways the saints have trod,
Waste of Glory, Waste of God.
War!
“Waste” by Rev. Studdert Kennedy, c1917 (“General Waste” in my father’s script)
Ailsa wrote a story about a slim steep-sided trail on her way to Mount St Helens, and asks us to post photos of other things that reach to the skies.
I like this photo of a pyramid emerging from the desert sands. See the rooftop at the sandline? It looks tiny but is probably the normal size for normal humans. Unlike pyramids.
Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, Valley of the Kings, Egypt, c1941
Hidden behind tall cliffs on the west bank of the Nile is the Valley of the Kings, Biban el-Muluk, in Luxor.
And trying to hide in the rock face of the limestone cliff is the temple of Queen Hatshepsut, known as Djeser Djeseru (Holy of Holies or Sacred of Sacreds), which is the main building of the mortuary temple complex at Deir el-Bahri. Hatshepsut ruled from 1473-1458 BC, one of the few women to rule as Pharaoh.
Excavations at the complex began in the 1890s and continued until 1936. There seems to have been some archaeological work in progress when this photo was taken during WWII. New photos available online (for example here), compared with the one above reveal some reconstruction since the 1940s.
The temple complex is a symmetrical structure, 30 metres tall and the length of about two and a half football fields. On the lower terraces there were gardens; fossilised remains of trees have been found lining the walkway to the temple, fragrant incense trees which Queen Hatshepsut had brought back from Punt (south-east of Egypt, possibly present-day Somalia). About 100 colossal statues of her as a sphinx guarded the entrance, and more massive statues of the queen wearing male clothing and a false beard adorned the temple.
The black and white photo above comes from my father’s WWII photo album.
The colour photo below is of statues of Hatshepsut in the Hatshepsut Room in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Large Kneeling Statue of Hatshepsut Egypt, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
Ailsa came across a few strange hidden things in her travels and posted photos of them on her blog, then asked us to find some things hiding in other parts of the world. Ailsa comes up with fantastic prompts for photos and blogging, and I really appreciate the ideas. Check out her post!
Think ‘big’. Now think ‘Egypt’. Perhaps you’re having visions of big protests in the streets, and as I’ve just heard five minutes ago on the evening news: ‘Another day of rage and bloodshed’.
Perhaps you’re thinking of other big Egyptian things: pyramids, massive pharaonic statues, or the sphinx. But here’s something else that’s big in Egypt: the citadel in Cairo, a 12th-century fortification against the Crusaders, and the mosque on its summit built centuries later by Muhammad Ali between 1824 and 1848.
In 1801, Muhammad Ali was appointed by the Ottoman Sultan in Constantinople to be governor in Egypt. But he had bigger plans.
In 1805 he began eliminating the Mamluks, his main competition, a warrior group who for centuries had worked for the Ottoman Empire and the Sultan. In 1811, Muhammad Ali invited the Mamluk leaders to a ceremony in his palace in the citadel, and as they were leaving he had them massacred. In the following days large numbers of Mamluks were killed in the city. Years later, in 1824, he razed the Mamluk buildings in the citadel and in 1830 began building his mosque in the style of the Ottomans in Turkey. The building, with its one main cupola, four smaller and four half-cupolas, resembles the Turkish Blue Mosque. On his death in 1849 Muhammad Ali was buried under it.
Next to it in this photo is one of the Mamluk mosques that remained in the citadel, the Mosque of Mahmud Pasha built in 1567 in the Mamluk architectural tradition, with a pencil-shaped minaret characteristic of Ottoman mosques.
Muhammad Ali Mosque and Mosque of Mahmud Pasha on the Citadel, Cairo
The painting below by David Roberts in 1839 shows the citadel before Muhammad Ali’s mosque was built; it looks quite different from the photo, but the title on the painting tells us it’s the same place:
Image: medinaarts.com
Even the painting evokes something big! We can see the grandeur of the citadel viewed from above a parapet and also a sense of the size of the structures when compared with the Arab groups dotted in the foreground.
But return to the photo and take a moment to look at the street scene. Peace. It will come again.
Please have a look at Ailsa’s blog post because it was her BIG idea!
My father was born 93 years ago today, so I knew I had to post some photos from his album. I found these two in his collection of images from Heliopolis, Cairo in 1941/42. They show the racecourse built as part of the plan for the model suburb of Heliopolis, designed by the Belgian industrialist, Baron Empain. The baron had the idea of raising a garden city in the desert, to be a place of luxury and leisure for mostly European visitors and residents. Heliopolis is now a part of greater Cairo. Empain began his development of Heliopolis in 1905 and continued to build it over the next couple of decades. The racecourse was built in 1910.
A colour image of the building shows its deteriorated state in 2011, though it has since become Merryland, an area of shops, cafés and gardens. However, the colour photo also shows how beautiful the detail of the architecture was.
Racecourse, track side, Heliopolis, Cairo, c1941Services Club, formally the Royal Pavilion at the Racecourse, Heliopolis, Cairo, c1941
Check out the beautiful photos of architecture on Ailsa’s blog pages.
I almost posted a photo of a big player on the German side of WWII as a response to the prompt ‘foreshadow’. But I’ve decided not to give him space.
I found the picture amongst my father’s photos, but there were others which, for the opponents of this grim man, undoutedly foreshadowed possible defeat. These two bombers would have had me worried if I were on the losing side (or possibly even if I were on the winning side and standing in the wrong place).
Under this one, the caption reads ‘Flying Fortress’, an American bomber.
Flying Fortress, Middle East, c1942
The second is captioned simply ‘Bomber’. I assume it’s British, judging by the insignia on the wings and fuselage. Without knowing what the colours of the insignia are, I can take a guess that they are, from the centre out, red, white and blue, British colours:
If you’re living in Cairo at present, you’re probably feeling nostalgic for a quieter city with fewer people in the streets. Here’s a photo to prove that your city was once more peaceful, well, at least outside this hospital. And there was a world war going on!
With a theme like ‘Nostalgic’ I just had to return to my father’s war album. I often think I’ve blogged about his best photos, but when I dig around it long enough I can still find a photo to match a challenge, especially this week when Cairo is undergoing yet more trouble and millions of people are in the streets. It’s the ideal time to post a photo taken in Cairo in about 1941. My father wrote “9th BGH Heliopolis” under it, that is, the 9th British General Hospital in the suburb of Heliopolis, Cairo.
Postscript: Thanks to Ahmad Omar (see his comment below) I now know that this was originally the Heliopolis Palace Hotel, opened in 1910, which became a hospital in both WWI and WWII and since the 1980s has been one of the Presidential Palaces where presidential offices are located.
9th British General Hospital, Heliopolis, Cairo, c1941 (formerly Heliopolis Palace Hotel)
I have this photo which is entirely suitable for Ailsa’s challenge this week. She asks us to open the floodgates and let the creativity flow. Well, this photo is not a product of my creativity but of my treasure-hunting. I found it in my father’s WWII album, where it’s entitled ‘Weir in Nile’. The water is certainly flowing!
Often when I want to identify a location in one of these old photos, I can search the web for similar photos, which usually is a sure way of finding details about my image. This time, however, I’ve been unsuccessful. I’ve researched the dams,weirs and barrages on the Nile River in Egypt, Sudan and Ethiopia and not found any image that resembles mine. It’s possible that this dam has been rebuilt since the 1940s and now looks completely different. Click twice to enlarge the image.
If anyone out there is an expert on old Nile dams, and if you know what this one was called, please tell me. I’ll be very grateful!
Henry Holden decided to get an Italian prisoner-of-war after he had seen several at work on Esmond’s farm.
The Enthusiastic Prisoner, E. O. Schlunke
*****
Another short story by Schlunke, the author of The Irling which I wrote about a couple of days ago. This line, beginning with a very Australian name, Henry Holden, caught my attention particularly when I saw it was about an Italian P.O.W. It triggered thoughts of some photos from my father’s war album of Italians taken prisoner by Australian soldiers. Many of the P.O.W.s were shipped to Australia and placed in camps, and their services were offered to local farmers who greatly benefited from the Italians’ excellent knowledge of food production. There is a photo (above) of a stream of Italians heading towards their captor’s camp. There’s also this image of a suave bunch posing for the camera:
