Steve Michel's Journal of
Lateral Modernism********************** Vol. IX No.2 Feb. 2008
Kenya Nobel Winner Urges Tribal Elders to Back Peace
By Joseph Sudah January 31, 2008 Reuters
Kenyan Nobel Peace laureate Wangari Maathai on Wednesday urged tribal elders to help stop a spiral of ethnic killing in the east African nation following last month's disputed presidential poll.
President Mwai Kibaki's re-election on December 27 sparked an unprecedented wave of violence, marked by bloody clashes between members of his Kikuyu ethnic group and the Luos, Luhyas and Kalenjins seen as supporting his challenger Raila Odinga.
"I appeal to the elders of the various communities to reach out to others and appeal to the youth to stop the cycle of violence and vengeance," Maathai, a veteran of the civil rights movement in Kenya, told reporters.
The turmoil, in which around 850 have been killed, may have been triggered by the disputed vote but has since taken on a momentum of its own, exposing the bitter ethnic animosities beneath Kenya's politics as rival tribes seek out revenge.
Maathai -- an internationally lauded environmentalist who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004 -- met elders from the Kikuyu community on Wednesday and plans to hold talks with representatives of other ethnic groups in the coming days.
...read more..
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fiction dept.:
Soil Mechanics: PART 4
by Steve Michel
"Science is knowledge and method. It is what one does with it that matters" Timo corrected him quoting one of Lector's Gray lecture on ethics.
"With what use to you now?" The old coot chuckled. "Science's fine and good but it's faith that gets you through a hard day." He then laughed with mouth so as to catch rain if it fell. To that, Timo had no answer.
The sky was beginning to darken with sunset when the cart slowly climbed the hill. Purple and orange hues tinted the swooping curves of masonry accretions and cardinal spires of the monastery.
Some brothers were gathered in a roda circle at the gates. Tim could hear them uproariously engaged in some rhetorical exercise as the cart approached the monastery's framed timber gate. Timo dreaded the thought of their mockery. By now he thought the lot of them must have heard some rumor as to his misfortune at the village. Closer, Timo could hear their heated discussion about the merits of the Magistrate over the Lector's Council Dictates on succession grasslands. A discussion that changed, as Timo trod through their gauntlet of stares and murmurs, to the merits of letting neophytes out even for the most trivial of errands. They laughed with the confidence of youth unhindered by doubt. Across, stationed at the porte-cochere was the intact wheeler.
Fuming, Timo hopped from the cart and crossed the deserted courtyard. Lectures were over and he was late for second refection. Brother Jay's basso voice boomed through his head like rolling thunder. "Timo!" Timo's mind reeled from the brunt of the projection. His eyes squinted at the effort of projecting a response to no avail "To Lector Crow's office at once!" Came the summons.
The climb up the south tower's spiral stairs and the walk to the Lector's digs was more arduous. Timo had never been to this part of the monastery. Here the floors were covered with a fortune of polished wood instead of clay tiles; biolumen sconces supplemented the skylight pipes lighting the way with a strange glow. Carbon anigré clad doors to unknown chambers stared back anonymously fronting murmurs of conversations in the whir of roof vents. He wondered about the summons. A 'prentice at the Lector's office was unheard of. Brother Jay should have handled the matter himself or so he thought. Timo sensed he was being scapegoated. 'What about the Cargias? They had a hand in this.' He walked with a heavy step. The corridor seemed an endless tunnel until the door of the Lector's office loomed before him. The door creaked open before he could so much as knock or enter.
"Sit down Timo." said the Lector at his granite slab desk. Of the Lectors, he was the strictest. His black face was wrinkled like a map with his thick white eyebrows furrowed under his baldhead. Timo had never seen him up close. He looked tired and thin in his robes. He ignored Timo as the latter sat on the hard wooden chair that faced the desk squarely. He noticed Brother Jay sitting near a window on a leather divan flipping through a registry report. It was Brother Jay who spoke first: "The Cargias spent considerable time looking for you before wisely returning back to the center to tell the good Lector of your desertion."
Lector Crow spoke then "You were expected to carry out a simple errand then return. Instead you had run off for crass diversions." His jaw muscles worked visibly. Timo in a way felt Brother Jay was also in some trouble. The Cargias absence in these proceedings was a jarring note."
"That's is not how it was..." Timo began.
"Silence!" The Lector turned in his chair to Timo. "This center was founded in a wasteland that bloomed on arduous discipline and work. This center is built on principles of trust with the community. We can't have you young fools running amok embarrassing this institution. Now you mean to tell me how it was?" His eyes drilled into Timo's. "You were entrusted with a simple duty and you squandered it." The room's air felt palpable in the silence as the Lector paused momentarily. It was as though he listened to some edict only he could hear. "Five days of junior fieldwork for you; one for each of your senses to reflect upon your transgressions." He swiveled his chair to look out the tall narrow windows that overlooked the green hills. At the center, Lector's word was final.
Brother Jay stood up pacing the high ceiling room to the shelves that lined the wall. "Your thesis is due soon, so make good what time you have." Timo understood then; he noticed how down beaten looked Brother Jay. Anything he said would be of no avail if Brother Jay himself could not get the Lector's ear. Timo sensed Brother Jay's authority had also diminished. Discipline was everything at the center....to be continued next month
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