Weekly Photo Challenge: Inside

Why pose outside when you can pose inside and pretend to be outside?

Here’s a great illustration of Orientalism:  a European model imagined as an Arab.  Exotic oasis with odalisque.  Orientalist photography and painting were born from European colonisation of Middle and Far Eastern countries.  Artists and photographers at the end of the 19th century and up to the Second World War years produced paintings and postcards depicting exaggeratedly different and exotic females both in and out of the studio.  Outside the studio, photographers captured images of women who were mostly covered.  In the staged setting of a studio, women were mostly uncovered, and it’s these photographs that express a Western male’s fantasies of penetrating the harem, in a scene which could be created with actual North African women or, as here, with a European model posing as an odalisque (a female slave or concubine).  The images say more about the colonial perspective than about Arabs:  the men were seen as enviable sheikhs with many wives and concubines and the women were often painted as belly dancers whose sole occupation was to entertain and satisfy men.  We, the Western viewers of these images, both men and women, were convinced, by the contrast, that we were civilised.  Except, this is an image my father obtained in colonised Egypt while fighting in a six-year-long war between civilised countries.

Odalisque – Orientalist photography, 1930s/40s

Ailsa's travel photo challenge: Tradition

Ailsa’s travel photo challenge:  Ailsa proposes the theme of Tradition this week.  Her post is multicoloured – take a look:  http://wheresmybackpack.com/2012/07/20/travel-theme-tradition/

My post has only two colours:  black and white. The photo is entitled ‘Water cows’ (water buffalo) and comes from my father’s war album of photos taken in the Middle East.  This one is in Egypt, where the water buffalo is the most important domestic animal.

If farmers traditionally transport their cows on foot along a certain route, then an expanding city will just have to accommodate them.

Water cows (buffalo), Egypt, 1941/42

Weekly photo challenge: Dreaming

The weekly photo challenge instruction is “Share a photo that makes you dream”.  When I look at news footage of Syria these days, I wonder if it will ever again look like it does in this photo from 1942.  Let’s dream it can be this peaceful some day.  Soon.

The 2/15th battalion of the Australian Imperial Forces, which my father was a part of, went to Syria in January 1942 for several months of frontier garrison duty.  I have several photos of the region from his album, but the Biblical tone of this one makes it the best.  Click it to see the detail.

Syria 1942

366 unusual things: days 189-193

7th July – Researching the El Gala’a Bridge in Cairo for a ‘Night’ photo challenge, I discovered it opened for feluccas by pivoting the central part around to perpendicular, making two passageways for the boats.
The first photo below is my father’s (that is, it was in his album but possibly not taken by him) which seems to have been shot from an identical position as the ‘Night’ photo.  Following this are two photos (undated but taken during WWII) in the National Library of Australia collection, by war photographer Frank Hurley, of the bridge opened for felucca traffic.  When closed, the bridge seems to have been only for pedestrians in those days.  I searched for recent images of the El Gala’a Bridge and found that it now carries heavy vehicular traffic, and during last year’s revolution was jam-packed with Egyptians heading for Tahrir Square.

“English Bridge”, Cairo (El Gala’a Bridge), 1942

Hurley, Frank, 1885-1962. Feluccas on the Nile at Cairo [with city, viewed from above] [picture] : [Cairo, Egypt, World War II]

Hurley, Frank, 1885-1962. Feluccas passing through the English Bridge, Cairo [Kobri Al Galaa or Evacuation Bridge] [picture] : [Cairo, Egypt, World War II]

8th July – Bought a green leather bag which was half-price ‘because of the colour’.

9th July – Spent hours searching the Internet for an image matching my camel bridge photo.  Finally found a postcard from the early 20th century showing the same bridge.  The Internet is an amazing resource!

10th July – Tried to get out of a 3-hour free carpark.  Put the ticket in the machine and it shot out and landed in a puddle where 6 other tickets were being rained on.  Mine was the driest, so I picked it up and put it back in.  It shot out again.  I hit the red ‘Help’ button and a muffled voice announced the free parking had been reduced to 2 hours.  The boom was generously raised anyway.

11th July – Learned that Joni Mitchell’s song ‘Both sides now’ was written as a poem.  It’s great read aloud.

Weekly photo challenge: Movement

Movement:  each of the three creatures here is raising a foot to move forward.

My father captioned this photo “Camel Bridge”.  I’ve done some research and found it is a footbridge over a boat passageway through a dam wall on the Nile.  It’s known in English as the Great Delta Barrage.  In Arabic (from Google Maps) it’s Alkanater Kheireya.  The wooden bridge was lowered for foot traffic, and when boats needed to pass through, it was folded up against the building wall.

Camel bridge, Egypt, 1941/42

Ailsa's travel photo challenge: Parks

Ailsa proposes Parks this week.  See her great park story here:  http://wheresmybackpack.com/2012/06/22/travel-theme-parks/

Here’s mine:

In the heart of Alexandria in Egypt, there is a green square running down to the esplanade along the sea.  It’s called the Midan Orabi or Orabi Square, or Place Mohamed Ali.  At the end of the square is a neo-classical monument donated by the Italian community in 1938 and originally dedicated to Khedive Ismail (‘Khedive’ is a title, like Viceroy).  He had studied in Paris and held diplomatic missions in Europe before his appointment as viceroy of Egypt from 1863 – 1879 under the Ottoman suzerainty.  He incurred massive foreign debt, borrowing from European financiers, and this mismanagement led to British intervention and the occupation of Egypt in 1882.  If this hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have this photo.

My father had this picture in his album of photos taken in 1941/42 when he was there as an Australian defending the British Empire.

Khedive Ismail being remembered for not much more than his hateful administration and the introduction of colonialism, the monument facing the Mediterranean sea, or more specifically, facing Europe, was recycled in 1966 into a monument to an ‘Unknown Naval Soldier’.

Modern photos show Orabi Square still with tall palm trees though at ground level it is now quite cluttered and busy, not neat and open as it was in the 1940s when the area was known as Place Mohamed Ali, or the French Gardens, and it looked like this:

French Gardens and Monument to Khedive Ismail, Alexandria, Egypt, 1940s

Friendship

FRIENDSHIP

Perhaps you, my blog readers, could help me understand something about this poem that my father wrote:  As you get towards the end you’ll see a line about a ‘flare’;  what do you think was happening?  Read the whole poem and let me know if you can enlighten me.

Sixty-nine refers to Hill 69 near Gaza, Palestine, where my father’s battalion was recovering after having defended Tobruk in Libya;  at Hill 69 they did further training as well as garrison and border protection.

The photo shows the first verse in his handwriting but I’ve transcribed all the verses, which you’ll see below the image.  I was inspired by the ‘Friendship’ theme of this week’s WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge to add this poem, which, you’ll find, is about friendship in war.

The poem is signed with my father’s initials, R.E.B.  I ask that it not be copied without my permission and without credit to him.

Red Kane of 69

“Something’s brewing,” said Red to his mate,
As they gazed along the line,
“It don’t get quiet for nothing,
Not here, at Sixty-nine.”
He thought of a time, two months ago,
He got a similar hunch,
And Jerrie came over in “Spitfires”,
And wiped out most of his bunch.

The “TRICK” was as old as the bloody hills,
The one they pulled that night.
In a couple of patched-up Spitfires,
They made that bloody flight;
All eyes looked in their direction,
The shout went up, “All’s Well”,
In came the bloody Spitfires,
Turning loose All Hell.

“I’ll square that deal, cobbers,” he said,
Damned near fit to howl,
“Even if it cost me me bloody life,”
“By bloody fair means or fowl;”
For he was a Dinkum Aussie,
Big and strong as a lion,
And he was a natural marksman too,
Red Kane, of Sixty-nine.

And now as he gazed across the sand,
Something to him was clear,
There was Jerry movement on tonight,
And to him came a great idea;
And so he spoke in whispers,
As he conversed with his mate,
Tonight they’d square a deal,
Regardless of their fate.

The Jerries moved with caution,
More cautious still, was Kane,
He wondered how his mate was,
If things panned out the same;
Complete in every detail now,
He lay face down, in prayer,
For five in every hundred yards,
He’d set and laid a flare.

That night, his mates were avenged,
Paid back, more than two-fold,
Paid by the help of his very own life,
For he now lay stiff and cold;
He’s gone to the great Beyond now,
A place of Perfect Design,
And greater love hath no man,
Than Red Kane of Sixty-nine.

Ronald E. Bruce, 1941
© Patricia Worth, 2012

Weekly photo challenge: Friendship

I have several photos taken in Egypt of soldiers smiling together with their arms around each other, close mates in a time of war, establishing friendships unlike any they had back home.  This photo is interesting for its depiction of friends but also because of the background the photographer captured.  They seem to be standing on top of a building showing off Heliopolis, developed in 1905 as a model suburb of Cairo by Baron Empain, a Belgian industrialist.  One of the buildings he ordered his architects to design was the Roman Catholic Church (behind and to the left) known as the Basilica of the Virgin Mary, or l’Église Notre Dame d’Héliopolis, built in the heart of the new suburb in 1910.  It’s a small copy of Hagia Sofia in Istanbul.  When the baron died in 1929 he was buried in the crypt.

The mosque in the photo (behind and to the right) is described in the photo album as the ‘wailing mosque’.  It does not appear in any present day web photo search, nor on Google maps.  Many buildings have been demolished or altered during the last century, particularly during the 1970s, and this must have been one of them.

My father gave this photo the caption “S. Chambers”, though I don’t know which of them it is.

S. Chambers and friends, with the domes of the Roman Catholic Basilica and the suburb of Heliopolis, Cairo, in the background, 1941