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Years ago, backpacking in Cambodia I read a battered old copy of the Killing Fields (the book version of the film).
When I finished it I passed it on to a friend, eventually it went all around all our little group.
Later we all admitted to shedding tears while reading it. It is the single most moving novel I have ever read.
From then on in – every beer sunk under Cambodian skies was accompanied with a toast to the book’s hero Dith Pran.
Years later when my parents visited me in Vietnam on their way to Cambodia I made sure that they too had a copy.
I have just read of Dith Pran’s death aged 65 in New York. Considering his life story, the fact that he reached such an age is incredible in itself.
It’s not often I feel genuinely saddened at the death of someone I never met. But Dith and his strength and loyalty to his friend Sydney Schanberg really touched me. He inspired me and I am sure many thousands of others too.
Cheers Dith.
From an article in today’s Guardian discussing predictions for 2008.
Another solid basis for futurological speculation is to follow the flow of people. Paul Saffo, a respected California-based forecaster, argues that the next few years will see the beginnings of a “reverse knowledge migration” in which, as well as bright and well-educated workers coming from the developing world to the west, people will start to move in the opposite direction.
This new global class of “cyber-gypsies”, says Saffo, will not only include American and European Asians returning “home”, but also highly educated, non-Asian Americans and Europeans going off to make their fortunes in places such as China.
The trend, he argues, will soon move from a source of sociological curiosity to a source of alarm for governments and businesses. Companies, universities and thinktanks in Europe and America, he warns, who often smugly assumed that they would be a magnet for the world’s talent, are going to discover that this is no longer the case.
Predictions for 2008? Ha. It’s already happening, maan. I’ve been meeting these people for the past three years.
Asians returning home, seen them. Europeans and Americans looking for new horizons, uh huh.
Much more than this. Try these: Brits, Australians and Americans shamed by their countries’ actions in Iraq (the shame drain). Individuals who no longer want to be part of the bullying first world, people who are fed up with just how complicated it is to live in the west and just how horrifically expensive it is too. Those of us who recognise the waste, on every level, of living in a developed country.
When you can plug in your computer anywhere, is it not increasingly likely that we’ll choose to be online somewhere cheaper, more colourful, and where our high streets aren’t just an identikit jumble of Starbucks and McDonald’s?
All this shock horror crap about migrants into the UK. Hey, we’re all migrants now.
I have been enjoying using www.lovefilm.com.
For the uninitiated you sign up. You list all the films you ever wanted to see. You pays your money and you slowly work your way through the movies.
They send you the DVD. You watch it. Return it to its envelope and then drop it in a post box. Then they send you the next one.
Simple.
So anyway, I have been watching all the movies I’d always meant to.
I recently watched Kes. As part of the ourwoman’s introduction to Tyneside we also rented Get Carter. We head to Dublin for a short break soon so I have added The Van. It’s been fun.
On the list also was Carla’s Song. A story of a Nicaraguan refugee who finds herself in Scotland before returning to her homeland to face her demons (pic above).
I had been meaning to watch it for years. Directed by Ken Loach. Filmed in my old Nica stamping ground. Starring Robert Carlyle. What’s not to like?
It’s a film split into two. Starting in Scotland and finishing in Nicaragua. The Glasgow bit was good. Then the Nica bit started up…
We laughed straight off – the first thing we heard when they touched down was “Managua, Managua, Managua,” the cry of the bus conductors heading to the capital. We’d take the bus from Granada every couple of weeks to luxuriate in the air con of the cinema.
Then the main characters settle into their hotel room. Just as Carlyle was remarking how nice it was nice, the lights went out. That happened to us a lot too.
While suffering the Newcastle November cold, the warmth of Nicaragua looked so inviting. Later, when the action switched to Esteli we recognised the town centre murals. Sandino, whose image cropped up every few minutes, seemed like an old friend.
We enjoyed it tremendously. It also prompted us to ask: “What the hell happened to us there?”
In some ways, I am still at a loss as to why our time there didn’t work. In all honesty I am a little ashamed. Sure we were somewhat isolated and under employed but the wonder of the place should have been enough to keep us interested. Shouldn’t it?
Either way we started thinking up the little things we missed. The kids of Calle Arsenal, Tona Beer, mojitos at “the Spanish place”, going up Volcan Mombacho, swimming in Laguna de Apoyo, Eskimo ice creams. Café Freezes in EuroCafe, the Nica-fayre at that buffet place just off the market square. Then there’s gallo pinto, ceviche, picos, rojita, Flora De Cana, breakfasts at Ed’s or Kathy’s.
Anyway, I’d recommend Carla’s Song, and Nicaragua to anyone. We enjoyed them both. Certainly we should have enjoyed the latter much more than we did.
But on a Friday evening with temperatures dropping to zero outside, curled up on the sofa it was a beautiful piece of escapism that jogged some very welcome memories.
Sign up to www.lovefilm.com here and, shamefully, I get a kickback.
