start cybersenior.3.3 ==================================================== ************ * THE * CYBERSENIOR * REVIEW ************ =================================================== VOLUME 3 NUMBER 3 JULY 1996 ==================================================== The CyberSenior Review is a project of the Internet Elders List, an active world-wide Internet Mailing List for seniors. The Review is written, edited and published by members of the Elders for interested netizens worldwide. Contributions from non-Elders are welcome. Please query one of the editors first. Contents copyrighted 1996 by the Internet Elders List and by the authors. All rights reserved by the authors. Quoting is permitted with attribution. The editorial board of The CyberSenior Review: Elaine Dabbs edabbs@ucc.su.oz.au Pat Davidson patd@chatback.demon.co.uk James Hursey jwhursey@cd.columbus.oh.us ====================================================== CONTENTS, Volume 3, Number 3, July 1996 EDITORIAL by Pat Davidson THE VALLEY OF THE CROW by Jim Olson Indians, rebellions and carefree summers. Jim reminisces about the Minnesota valley where he spent his childhood. ETHIOPIA by Quentin F. Schenk Quentin, who lived there for some years, gives us an interesting and enlightening analysis of the recent history of this troubled African nation. HISTORY THROUGH MAORI PLACE NAMES by Horace Basham Omanawanui, Kaingamaturi, Puke-aruha Pa. Horace tells us the romantic stories of Maori place names. GRAND CHILD a poem by James Hursey Jim ponders the different emotional experience of a grandchild and the birth of one's own children. ============================================================== EDITORIAL by Pat Davidson It is summer here in the UK, with flowers everywhere, striped green lawns and Pimms on the terrace! As I write, Wimbledon tennis fortnight is taking place, and we still have a Brit playing in the fourth round of the Men's Singles. Mind you, by the time you receive this, he could have been knocked out! At least we'll have had one moment of glory. The longest day has passed, and we're now beginning the long slow march towards winter, while our southern cousins look forward to their summer. In this issue, we look at the lands and people of the past; the Sioux and Ojibwe of the Valley of the Crow, the Amhara, Gallena and Nilotic of Ethiopia, and the Maori of New Zealand. It is right that we should look back, and realise that though these peoples lived far different lives from those we lead today, they too were human beings with their hardships and problems, yet survived them, not as individuals, but as a race. They found their strength in their lands. When, however, they had their lands taken from them by superior forces, sometimes by people of their own race, they were left weak and destitute. We too need our "land", the place of our childhood, even though it might not be in a country house but in a town apartment; we need the "roots" from which we can grow in experience and wisdom, to become the mature adults that we are. Nowadays, we have a better appreciation of the territorial rights of the indigenous peoples of the Americas and Australasia. As Quentin shows us in his article on Ethiopia, however, it is not enough to provide aid for those who are weak and destitute. We need to encourage them to use their lands and resources wisely, and to ensure the population does not grow, by limiting the number of births. How can we do this? Better heads than mine have not yet found a solution to the problem. We ALL look to the future of the family through our children and grandchildren. Jim Hursey in his poem "Grand Child," epitomises our delight in them. I look back to my own "land" for understanding, to Scotland. In Victorian times, there were large families, with no birth control; many infants, and indeed their mothers, died in childbirth. Today, most families are small, with one or two children, infant and maternal mortality almost non-existent. Perhaps education for the women and a better standard of living is the way forward in Ethiopia. All we can do is wait and hope; as Quentin says, the alternative is too horrible to contemplate. =============================================================== THE VALLEY OF THE CROW by Jim Olson There is, I believe, a connection between the essence of our lives and the places we have lived, a kind of bond with a location and its history. Most of us have roamed about somewhat during our lifetime, but there is for each of us some key territory, perhaps a land of our beginnings, a place where we achieved or lost some part of ourselves. It returns to memory most strongly as we survey the past in an effort not just to remember but to seek answers to questions about our identity, questions about our source, what drives us, our destiny. For me that land is the Crow River Valley in west central Minnesota where I was born and spent my childhood and early adolescence and where I felt connected not just to my immigrant ancestors who lived in and around the town but to the races of people and the elements of nature that had touched the land before me and left their traces for me to ponder. The Mdewakanton Dakota (Sioux) people, who lived there briefly and contested the land with the Ojibwe driven south and east by still other tribes, called it the Valley of the Crow. But I recall most vividly the Red Tail Hawks that soared over the area, the fall flocks of migrating Blackbirds stretching almost from horizon to horizon, the skitting salamanders that raced along and through the puddles near the prairie pot holes, and the slithering inhabitants of a cemetery just north of us that we christened "Snake Heaven." As a boy my main connection with the earlier tribal occupants of the valley was through retracing their steps on the Indian trail along the river bluff, one of the few elevated spots in this generally flat and fertile valley. A short stretch of the trail had escaped temporarily the development of homes along the the pond formed by an early dam and feed mill. It passed a very small cave in the bluff that had traces of having been used as a shelter, but in our imaginations was as large and mysterious as the cave where Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher played out their adventure with mystery, fear, and discovery. The trail ended upstream by a burial mound left by an early race of mound builders in the area. The cave and the mound have long since been destroyed by a housing development and the only physical acknowledgment of the earlier inhabitants of the valley is a bronze statue in a town park by the dam, and I think there is some talk now of removing it. It is a statue of Chief Little Crow, who was ironically the leader of the so-called Sioux Uprising that threatened the town in 1863 and resulted in the massacre of many nearby immigrant farmers and non-combatant Indians. The statue was part of a WPA artists project in 1936, the product of the adolescent imagination of a young artist I knew who was several years my senior and with whom I shared an art teacher, but not an artistic talent. He won a contest to design a statue appropriate to the river site of the new park. A restored water wheel at the site of a glorious mill fire that lit up the sky all of the way up to our farm represented the pioneer days and his statue the tribal peoples of the area. The town treasured its youth and extolled those who appeared precocious. To the town we were all like the mythic youth of Garrison Keilor's nearby Lake Woebegone, all "above average." But not necessarily to our parents. The artist's father once told my uncle, "That damn kid aint going to amount to anything. He's late getting up to catch the bus and comes home from school too late to do the chores. All he does is day dream and scribble." Later he was quite proud of his son. I don't know what my uncle said. I daydreamed, too, but did make it back for chores although my uncle milked four cows in the time it took me to do one. I can remember the sounds, the slow erratic sounds of milk jets hitting my tin pail vs. the steady quick rhythm of the streams of milk filling his. Mine would stop sometimes and I would talk to the cat, "Here kitty, you want some. Open your mouth." A white moustache appeared on the cat's face and a long tongue came out to lick it off. The artist later went on to become a prominent wildlife painter in Minnesota and abandoned sculpture. One can perhaps sense why by noting the lack of proportion and awkward pose of Little Crow as he peers up the valley in a wooden, cigar-store-Indian stance. At the time I shared the artist's enthusiasms and heroic concept of Little Crow and greatly admired the statue. He did do one more statue as he replaced Little Crow with a new much improved version many years later and donated it to the city. I hardly ever passed it as I walked from town to our small farm just north of town without stopping to refresh myself at the nearby drinking fountain and peer up the river as he did, wishing, as the plaque read, for "Peace for all peoples of the Valley of the Crow," a quote from one of his many speeches made as he negotiated treaties with the Great White Father whom he also told, "I come to speak like a man and not a child." The message of peace was a relevant message in 1937. My father had not many years before fought in the Great War, and many of the town's young men were, by 1940, when we moved from the town, volunteering for service in preparation for an impending war that was eventually to involve me. Little Crow's war started when a band of young, undisciplined braves, incensed by failure of the government to honor a treaty and assist the tribe through a difficult winter, attacked a nearby farm family and killed most of them. Little Crow spoke for peace and reconciliation in a speech that lasted most of the night, and failing in that, became one of the principal and most persistent leaders of the war. The war was ineptly fought on both sides and dragged on to the inevitable end with the defeat of the insurgents. The Sioux were removed from the state, those who fought on the side of the militia as well as those who fought against; and a mass hanging of war prisoners, again some friends along with the foes, at New Ulm, Minnesota, brought an end to the episode. Little Crow who had fled into Canada returned in a vain attempt to get support and renew the war. He was shot in the back by a local farmer who discovered Little Crow and his son picking berries just north of town. It was early in July and the body was taken to town and paraded down the main street on the 4th, decapitated, and the torso sent to the state historical society where I viewed the bones in 1938 in a dark basement exhibit while on a field trip for honor students. Being an honor student was a distinction I seldom held, my penchant for questioning authority often stronger than my ambition for academic honor. But on this occasion I had achieved it partly with an essay about Little Crow's diplomatic skills and desire for peace. If the statue by the river had been turned left slightly it would have faced up the Main street toward the town square where a plaque on a large boulder marked the spot of one of Little Crow's main frustrations as a warrior. It was here that the settlers, along with some tribal members who had sided with them, built a stockade and thwarted a brief attack from a band led by Little Crow early in the war. I recall the tea in the library on the square where the honor students were recognized. I also recall the time when I met a girl there, the Becky of my imagination, and our walking hand in hand by the stockade site, past the ghosts of settlers and Indians who fought and died there. But mostly I remember one last day of school in the spring when Little Crow looked out at a group of us boys who celebrated our freedom with a quick swim to the diving raft on the mill pond. We slipped off our shorts, mounted the raft and ran naked across to the other side, waved at the statue and dove into the cold water, swam back to retrieve our wet underwear, swam ashore, put on our school trousers and shirts, and walked dripping, shivering, homeward. It seemed to me at the time that his upraised arm was not to shade his eyes as he searched for peace in the Valley of the Crow as my essay had indicated, but a return of my salute, a gesture from one independent spirit to another. My gesture of independence resulted in a nasty head cold that I soon recovered from, that hot, barefoot summer of 1938. ============================================================= ETHIOPIA by Quentin F. Schenk In all my travels throughout the South Pacific, Europe, South America, and Africa, Ethiopia is the most fascinating place I have ever seen. It is about the size of California, has a population of about 50,000,000, lies just above the equator, has altitudes from below sea level to over 10,000 feet, with a climate ranging from an average of 70F to over 100 degrees. Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia, where I lived for three years, has a population of over 1 million. Our home was at an altitude of 8700 feet. My office at the National University was at 9200 feet. The altitude posed a problem for many foreign visitors and workers who previously lived at lower altitudes. Over half who came to Addis Ababa to live had to leave because of their inability to adapt to the altitude. Ethiopia is composed of three major ethnic groups: the Amhara, the Gallena, and the Nilotic. There are 22 major language groups in the nation. Over the years this has posed a major obstacle toward melding Ethiopia into a single society and political entity. Over his protracted reign, Haile Selassie made progress in the direction of true unification, mainly through education, but he was only modestly successful. The Amhara are the highland people, and have been the historic rulers of Ethiopia, but always tenuously. The recent war with Eritrea is rooted in the long-standing cultural and ethnic differences among Ethiopia's ethnic groupings. The Amhara wanted to unite all of Ethiopia under its rule and impose its culture and political system on others. Its greatest failure in this regard is the recent secession of Eritrea after a bitter civil war that lasted from the middle l960's to 1990. The Amhara speak a Semitic language and do not consider themselves Africans, but identify themselves with Egyptians, Israelis, and Arabs. They are Coptic Christians, having been converted to Christianity by Egyptian missionaries about 400 A.D. Their patron Saint is St. Mark, who brought Christianity to Egypt even before St. Paul's missionary efforts that are chronicled in the New Testament. They are fierce warriors, and this coupled with their highland inaccessibility enabled them to escape European colonization that was the tragic fate of most of the rest of Africa. The Gallena occupy the southeastern quarter of Ethiopia, and are similar in culture and language to the rest of East Africa. They are primarily Muslim. Haile Selassie was most successful in integrating the Gallena into the Ethiopian nation mainly by coopting the Gallena elite into prominent positions into his political and economic system. The Nilotic live in the remote interior of southwestern Ethiopia and are the most "primitive" of the Ethiopian groupings. They have no written language. They are pagans, and have little concept of what we define as modern civilization. Haile Selassie shrewdly used European and American missionaries to "Ethiopianize" the Nilotic. He permitted missionaries in Ethiopia, but only with the understanding that they would not work with the Amhara or Gallena, but confine their efforts to converting the Nilotic. He monitored their efforts carefully to see that they did not teach the "pagans" anything antithetical to his goal to create a unified Ethiopian nation. He was so shrewd in this tactic that I do not think many missionary groups realized how he co-opted them to his own nationalistic ends. Ethiopia is divided into provinces, each with a governor. Up until the time of Emperor Menelik's reign (Haile Selassie's predecessor) the governors were princes of quasi independent duchies. There were numerous wars over the years to establish dominance, and gradually the prince of Shoa province, in which Addis Ababa is located, became the lead prince and eventually was able to declare himself emperor. Emperor Menelik, one of the great rulers of Ethiopia, consolidated the various duchies into the provinces that today comprise Ethiopia. There was no hereditary nor constitutional means of succession, so when an emperor died the nation was plunged into chaos and often war until a successor could by fair means or foul be chosen. After Emperor Menelik died, it took Haile Selassie almost twenty years to win the succession. He immediately set out to appoint his own governors to bring the provinces under his control, and was quite successful at this effort. It was during Emperor Menelik's reign that European nations completed the colonization of Africa. Not to be left behind, Italy set out to grab her own piece of Africa, and chose Ethiopia. Italy acquired a foothold in Eritrea in extreme northern Ethiopia, and planned to conquer the rest of Ethiopia from there. However, in 1898, at the battle of Adowa, Italy was soundly defeated by the Ethiopian warriors, who were outnumbered and outgunned, but well organized by Emperor Menelik and fiercely determined not to go the way of the rest of Africa. This single victory assured Ethiopia's reputation as the "jewel" of Africa, and made Italy the laughingstock of the European powers. Years later Mussolini attempted to avenge this humiliation by occupying Ethiopia, but succeeded mainly in raising the stature of Emperor Haile Selassie. His speech at the League of Nations made him world famous as a courageous, lonely figure standing against the immoral exploitation of his country by a greedy European power. Haile Selassie spent his exile in England. He used his persuasive powers to convince Britain that Ethiopia must be liberated at all costs, so in 1939, very early in World War II, Britain invaded Ethiopia and drove the Italians out. After World War II Haile Selassie decided that the only future for his nation was to open it up to the outside world. He gave amnesty and full citizenship to the Italians who had settled in Ethiopia during the brief occupation, for they were skilled artisans that the nation needed to "modernize". He invited foreign investment to develop coffee production, mining, and manufacture. He encouraged foreign aid, primarily in health care and education. A number of nations responded, notably Sweden, Yugoslavia, and the United States. Sweden concentrated on primary and secondary education, Yugoslavia governmental planning and development, the United states on higher education and health services. As the cold war intensified, the United States, in conjunction with Israel, furnished resources and manpower to develop the military and internal security forces of the nation. Ethiopia gradually found itself becoming a client state of the United States, which the United States felt was necessary since at the time Somalia and Egypt were client states of the Soviet Union. The development of a modern nation state was a formidable task. One of the requisites is a shared scientific language. At first the Ethiopians attempted to modernize Amharic, which Haile Selassie declared to be the official language of Ethiopia, but this proved impossible. So they chose English as the modern language. Therefore, when students entered school they were first taught Amharic upon the Emperor's insistence so they could learn the official culture. Then about the sixth year they switched to English so they could participate in the modern world. English was used exclusively at the National University, and students had to be proficient in English to matriculate. Given the difficulties encountered, language teaching was surprisingly successful, much to the credit of the Swedes. Tito of Yugoslavia and Haile Selassie became fast friends during World War II for they were the "little guys" fighting the Axis powers against terrible odds. After the War Tito developed a modified communism which included central planning spanning five year periods. Haile Selassie embraced this approach, and had his government expend much effort to develop these plans. They looked wonderful on paper, but the task was enormous and the resources scarce. The lack of infrastructure precluded the realization of much what was projected, even though infrastructure development was the primary goal of the planning effort. The United States poured major resources into the National University through AID and the Ford Foundation. During the post war years of the Emperor's reign the Ford Foundation was an important arm of American foreign policy in Ethiopia, both in terms of resources furnished and determination of results. One of the major efforts was to develop a university modeled completely on the American pattern, so the National University became the only university in Africa to develop along these lines. All other institutions of higher learning in Africa patterned themselves along either the British or the French model. Since Ethiopia was an American client state it was important that the educated elite accept American ways, and no more effective way existed than to make it easy for Ethiopian students to make a smooth transition from undergraduate education in Ethiopia to graduate education in the United States. The United States poured substantial resources into military development to counteract the potential threat of Egypt and Somalia, then client states of the Soviet Union. Israel, at the behest of the United States, strengthened the internal security forces of Ethiopia. Seeing this, the Soviet Union armed Eritrea which was particularly restive under the Emperor's control and wanted to become independent. In the late l960's hostilities broke out between Ethiopia and Eritrea, with Eritrea being supplied with arms by the Soviet Union and Ethiopia by the United States. The United States also led the effort to introduce western medical practices into Ethiopia, building clinics and hospitals, educating medical personnel, and encouraging religious groups to send their medical personnel. As in the rest of Africa much of the effort was concentrated in lowering the infant mortality rate. Because of the extremely high rate of infant mortality the birth rate was at the physical maximum, approximately twenty children per adult female. Since the mortality rate was roughly equal to the birth rate the population was close to equilibrium, with a slight growth over the years. The upset of this balance without careful consideration of the consequences could be calamitous. I will deal briefly with the unintended consequences of this and other changes later in the article. Because of the inherent difficulties of succession in Ethiopia, Haile Selassie could not guarantee a successor. He tried several strategies. He tried to retire, but did not like what he saw happening so did not retire. One of his sons tried a coup which failed. So the aging Emperor kept on until an American trained colonel, Haile Mariam, overthrew him in a bloody coup. At this time the political scene shifted, with Egypt and Somalia pulling away from Soviet control. Haile Mariam saw himself as a dictator in the Russian mold, so the influence of the United States waned. Ethiopia became a client state of the Soviet Union, and Egypt and Somalia came under the influence of the United States. Haile Mariam was an Amhara, so could not tolerate an upstart province such as Eritrea trying to break away. He intensified his effort to defeat Eritrea, which eventually resulted in Haile Mariam's defeat and overthrow and independence for Eritrea. Ethiopia presently is experimenting with a decentralized, somewhat democratic political system, the outcome of which is too early to discern. I am pessimistic of Africa's ability to prosper in the long run simply because it is difficult if not impossible to predict and control the consequences of change. I will give one telling example - the unintended consequences of the introduction of western medicine. All change comes encased in the cultural and social characteristics of the change agent. The effort of the United States and European countries to lessen infant mortality without lowering the birth rate resulted in a population explosion in Ethiopia which preceded the famines that have beleaguered the nation. This is also the case with the rest of Africa - an uncontrollable population explosion. It is not that life expectancy is greatly extended but that more infants live to suffer malnutrition and disease, and increase the ratio of young to older members of the population. Unless the world finds some way to control explosive population growth, the unrest which I witnessed among the young in Ethiopia and which is evident in the rest of Africa as well as other parts of the globe spells trouble for the twenty first century. Continued population growth may eventually result in the disappearance of the human species altogether from the planet. ========================================================== HISTORY THROUGH MAORI PLACE NAMES by Horace Basham Since living in the Waitakere City district of the Auckland region, I have followed my interest in local history. There is much to learn from the plethora of Maori place names that abound in this region. Take for instance Opanuku. Opanuku is the name of the road on which I live. The Opanuku stream flows down the valley at the bottom of this road. The story of Opanuku takes us back to pre-European times and tells of an incident of local importance. Opanuku means "the place of Panuku." Panuku was a chief of a tribe living in the Waitakere range at Te Henga (Bethell's Beach). Legend has it that Nihotupu, a Turehu (or those seen by the Maori as the first inhabitants of New Zealand) invaded Panuku's plantation at Te Henga stealing gourds and Panuku's wife, Parakura. Parakura not being a willing party to this enterprise pulled white feathers from her cloak leaving a trail that Panuku would follow. When Panuku came upon the encampment of Nihotupu an unholy battle took place resulting in the deaths of Nihotupu and his followers. It was at that site of battle that the nearby stream was named for Panuku, and another stream and the hill nearby was named after Panuku's wife, Parekura. This area has been inhabited by the Maoris for more than a 1000 years, as shown in the many archaelogical sites found throughout the Waitakeres, in Pa and food storage pits. One such site near my place of residence is called Puke-aruha Pa (or the hill of the braken fern root) and is to be found on a high ridge overlooking the valley. The remains of the Pa and the food storage pits are evident today. Much of the site was demolished by bulldozing in 1975. Braken roots were a staple of the Maori diet in lean times. The tribes did not live permanently at one site, moving around to where food was to be found. Areas were burnt off and left so the braken would grow. Then they would return later to dig up the roots. The Opanuku Valley is now called Henderson Valley, after a prominent sawmiller merchant of that district who arrived from Dundee Scotland in 1845. The stream is still the Opanuku, until it reaches Henderson township and runs into the Henderson Creek. The most famous ancestor of the whole of West Auckland was the Turehu chief Tiniwa, who gave the ranges and the West their name. After the Turehu came Panuku's people, the Maruiwi, who arrived in the Kahuitara canoe in Taranaki. The legendary explorer Kupe also left many important place names on the west coast between the Manukua and Hokianga. Maori Tradition has it the earliest inhabitants of the Waitakere Ranges were the fairy folk -- the Turehu, who dwelt in the forested hills and only ventured out at night or in the fog or mist to fish and search for food. It is in these tales that many of the place names of the Waitakeres are mentioned and explained. The following story gave Kaingamaturi, or Maramaturu as it is called today, its name: A local youth became enamoured of a chieftainess of a Waikato tribe who used to come to Huia for the fishing season. To while away the evening hours they used to play games of skill. These games, which began in a competitive spirit, soon developed into mutual feelings of love. But the time came when the tribe returned to the Waikato. Next season, when the tribe returned, the feelings of love were as strong as ever. But in the meantime the chieftainess had been betrothed to an older but influential warrior chief. At first sight, the two hearts beat with joy, and realising that their love had survived the intervening absence, they sought a way to ensure they would not be parted again. Behind a high waterfall up the valley was a deep cave. The youth, knowing of this, stocked the cave with supplies and bedding where they would hide until the hue and cry would end. After a long interval the pair, knowing the Waikato tribe would have left, emerged from the cave. They found, because of the thundering noise of the waterfall, they had become deaf and had difficulty conversing with other people. From this incident the stream was named Kaingamaturi, the home of the deaf lovers. But it is now named Karamatura -- I know not why. Omanawanui Peak was named by this incident: Several centuries ago two lovers were forbidden by their parents to continue their love affair. They decided that, rather than be parted, they would die together by jumping from a high cliff on the seaward side of the peak of this name near Whatipu. The man was killed outright, but the maiden was critically injured and lay for two days before she was discovered. Her injuries proved fatal, however, and in memory of this tragedy, the peak was named Omanawanui, the place of long suffering. There are many romantic place names in Maori country and all of them tell a story. This has been just a few of them. =========================================================== GRAND CHILD by James Hursey How I remember my own children's birth. So giddy, truly, was I on that day That, indeed, my feet hardly touched the earth, And I felt that I would simply float away. In those days fathers waited down the hall, So I wasn't in the room when they were born, But I cannot forget when I first saw Them squalling in the nursery that morn. Twins, of course, one so wrinkled, ugly red That I thought surely something wasn't right; But they were fine, both screaming in their bed, Indignant being brought into the light. After visiting their mom I danced away, Accosting perfect strangers on the street: "Twins," I said, "O two perfect girls. Hooray!" The ground, I'm sure, never touched my feet. Truly, it was an intoxicating Time, the birth of one's first, in my case two, And now, after thirty years of waiting, The elder twin has dropped the other shoe. I'd just about lost hope until that day (I tried to tell myself I did not care); It was a new experience, in a way, Seeing my little namesake lying there. It's different, somehow, when a grandchild's born: This time it's a quieter elation. While our own are conceived in joy, then formed, A grandchild is true procreation. Some grand eternal cycle's consummate And we, as grandpas, know that we've fulfilled Our urgent task as species' advocate, Upon which the generations build. Ordinarily, it's said, they're much more fun, Since you can hand them back to be attended; I think the pleasure is a deeper one: It's not a child, but, now, a descendant. Pleasure without responsibility, We sometimes say, even as we anoint The child into our loving life, but surely Responsibility is not the point; Nor is the joy that the little one Gives us growing up; the real pleasure Is knowing, as we age, he'll carry on: Therein, I think, lies grandpa's greatest treasure. Nature provides us with the impetus To reproduce, but life's not true complete Until our own child has provided us A happy grandchild playing at our feet. ====================================================== end cybersenior.3.3