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theculturedmarxist · 3 years

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Below is the story of my day touring Tema with Prince Philip, in this chapter from my book “The Catholic Orangemen of Togo”. You may be surprised to read that I rather liked him.

The African Queen

One morning I was sitting in the lounge at Devonshire House, with its fitted wool carpets and chintz sofas. I was drinking the tea that our steward, Nasser, had brought me. I heard movement in a corner of the room, and thought it must be Nasser cleaning there. But looking round, I saw nobody. Puzzled, I got up and walked towards that corner. Rounding a settee, I nearly stood upon a thin, green snake. About four feet long and just the thickness of your thumb, it was a bright, almost lime green colour. There was not much wedge shape to its head, which rather tapered from its neck. Its tongue was flickering toward me, perhaps a foot away, its head raised only slightly off the floor. I took a step backwards. In response it too retreated, at surprising speed, and zipped up the inside of the curtains.

I stood stock still and yelled “Nasser! Nasser!” This brought Nasser hurrying into the living room with Gloria, the cook. “Nasser, there’s a snake in the curtains!” Nasser and Gloria screamed, threw their arms in the air, and ran together into the kitchen and out the back door of the house. This was not altogether helpful.

I remained where I was to keep an eye on the snake, not wanting it to be lurking inside the house unseen. After a while the front door opened and somebody, presumably Nasser, threw in Nasser’s scruffy little dog. The dog was normally banned from the house, and celebrated this unexpected turn of events by immediately urinating against the hall table. Then the dog too ran into the kitchen and out of the back door.

Abandoning my watch, I went out and recruited the reluctant gardeners and gate guards. They armed themselves with long sticks and came in and beat the curtains until the snake fell onto the floor. As it sped for cover under a sofa, Samuel the youngest gardener got in a solid blow, and soon everyone was joining in, raining down blows on the twitching snake. They carried its disjointed body out on the end of a stick, and burnt it on a bonfire.

Everyone identified it as a green mamba. I was sceptical. Green mambas are among the world’s deadliest snakes, and I imagined them to look beefy like cobras, not whip thin and small headed like this. But a search on the agonisingly slow internet showed that indeed it did look very like a green mamba.

The important question arose of how it had entered the house. With air conditioning, the doors and windows were usually shut. Nasser seemed to have solved the mystery when he remarked that a dead one had been found last year inside an air conditioner. The unit had stopped working, and when they came to fix it they found a snake jammed in the mechanism. That seemed the answer; it had appeared just under a conditioner, and it seemed likely the slim snake had entered via the vent pipe, avoiding the fan as it crawled through the unit.

This was very worrying. If anti-venom was available (and we held a variety in the High Commission) an adult would probably survive a green mamba bite. But it would almost certainly be fatal to Emily, and possibly to Jamie.

A week or so later, I was constructing Emily’s climbing frame, which had arrived from the UK. A rambling contraption of rungs, slides, platforms and trampolines, it required the bolting together of scores of chrome tubes. I was making good progress on it and, as I lifted one walkway side into position above my head, a mamba slid out of the end of the tube, down my arm, round my belly and down my leg. It did this in no great hurry; it probably took four seconds, but felt like four minutes.

There was one terrible moment when it tried an exploratory nuzzle of its head into the waistband of my trousers, but luckily it decided to proceed down the outside to the ground. It then zig zagged across the lawn to nestle in the exposed tops of the roots of a great avocado tree. Again the mob arrived and beat it to death with sticks. I persuaded them to keep the body this time, and decided that definite action was needed.

I called in a pest control expert. I was advised to try the “Snake Doctor”. I was a bit sceptical, equating “Snake Doctor” with “Witch Doctor”, but when he arrived I discovered that this charming chubby Ghanaian really did have a PhD in Pest Control from the University of Reading. As Fiona had an MSc in Crop Protection from the same Department, they got on like a house on fire and it was difficult to get them away from cups of tea to the business in hand.

He confirmed that the dead snake really was a green mamba. We obviously had a colony. They lived in trees, and he advised us to clear an area of wasteland beyond the boundaries of our house, and build a high boundary wall of rough brick at the back, rather than the existing iron palings. He also suggested we cut down an avenue of some 16 huge mature trees along the drive. I was very sad, but followed this sensible advice. That removed the mamba problem from Devonshire House. But I continued to attract mambas on my travels around Ghana.

The second half of that first year in Ghana was to be almost entirely taken up with preparations for the State Visit of the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh in November 1999. A huge amount of work goes into organising such a visit; every move is staged and choreographed, designed for media effect. You need to know in advance just where everybody is going to be, who will move where when, and what they will say. You need to place and organise the media to best advantage. You need to stick within very strict rules as to what the Queen will or will not do. Most difficult of all, you have to agree all this with the host government.

I had been through it all quite recently, having paid a major part in the organisation of the State Visit to Poland in 1996. That had gone very well. The Poles regarded it as an important symbol that communism had been definitively finished. It was visually stunning, and at a time when the Royal Family was dogged with hostile media coverage, it had been their first unmixed positive coverage in the UK for ages. I had handled the media angles, and my stock stood very high in the Palace.

I am a republican personally; I was just doing my job. The Palace staff knew I was a republican, not least because I had turned down the offer of being made a Lieutenant of the Royal Victorian Order (LVO) after the Warsaw visit. I had earlier turned down the offer to be an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) after the first Gulf war.

Rawlings was delighted that the Queen was coming. He craved respectability and acceptance in the international community, which had been hard to come by after his violent beginnings. But he had turned his Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC) into a political party, the National Democratic Congress (NDC), and had fought elections in 1992 and 1996 against the opposition New Patriotic Party, which had an unbroken tradition running back to Nkrumah’s opponent J B Danquah and his colleague Kofi Busia. There were widespread allegations of vote-rigging, violence and intimidation, and certainly in 1992 the nation was still too cowed to engage in much open debate.

Even by 1999, social life was still inhibited by the fact that nobody except those close to the Rawlings would do anything that might be construed as an ostentatious display of life, while Rawlings had sustained and inflated the personality cult of Nkrumah still further (he is known as Osagyefo, “the conqueror”.) Open discussion of the disasters Nkrumah brought upon Ghana was almost impossible. It is still difficult for many Ghanaians today, after decades of brainwashing. As Rawlings had gradually liberalised society, the increasing freedom of the media, particularly the FM radio station, was giving a great boost to democracy. But there was still much prudent self-censorship. The media was particularly reticent about investigating governmental corruption.

The NDC government was massively corrupt. There was one gratuitous example which especially annoyed me. A company called International Generics, registered in Southampton, had got loans totalling over £30 million from the Royal Bank of Scotland to construct two hotels, La Palm and Coco Palm. One was on the beach next to the Labadi Beach Hotel, the other on Fourth Circular Road in Cantonments, on the site of the former Star Hotel. The loan repayments were guaranteed by the Export Credit Guarantee Department, at the time a British government agency designed to insure UK exporters against loss. In effect the British taxpayer was underwriting the export, and if the loan defaulted the British taxpayer would pay.

In fact, this is what happened, and the file crossed my desk because the British people were now paying out on defaulted payments to the Royal Bank of Scotland. So I went to look at the two hotels. I found La Palm Hotel was some cleared land, some concrete foundations, and one eight room chalet without a roof. Coco Palm hotel didn’t exist at all. In a corner of the plot, four houses had been built by International Generics. As the housing market in Accra was very strong, these had been pre-sold, so none of the loan had gone into them.

I was astonished. The papers clearly showed that all £31.5 million had been fully disbursed by the Royal Bank of Scotland, against progress and completion certificates on the construction. But in truth there was virtually no construction. How could this have happened?

The Chief Executive of International Generics was an Israeli named Leon Tamman. He was a close friend to, and a front for, Mrs Rawlings. Tamman also had an architect’s firm, which had been signing off completion certificates for the non-existent work on the hotel. Almost all of the £30 million was simply stolen by Tamman and Mrs Rawlings.

The Royal Bank of Scotland had plainly failed in due diligence, having paid out on completion of two buildings, one not started and one only just started. But the Royal Bank of Scotland really couldn’t give a toss, because the repayments and interest were guaranteed by the British taxpayer. Indeed I seemed to be the only one who did care.

The Rawlings had put some of their share of this looted money towards payments on their beautiful home in Dublin. I wrote reports on all this back to London, and specifically urged the Serious Fraud Office to prosecute Tamman and Mrs Rawlings. I received the reply that there was no “appetite” in London for this.

Eventually La Palm did get built, but with over $60 million of new money taken this time from SSNIT, the Ghanaian taxpayers social security and pension fund. Coco Palm never did get built, but Tamman continued to develop it as a housing estate, using another company vehicle. Tamman has since died. The loans were definitively written off by the British government as part of Gordon Brown’s HIPC debt relief initiative.

That is but one example of a single scam, but it gives an insight into the way the country was looted. The unusual feature on this one was that the clever Mr Tamman found a way to cheat the British taxpayer, via Ghana. I still find it galling that the Royal Bank of Scotland also still got their profit, again from the British taxpayer.

So while the State Visit was intended as a reward to Jerry Rawlings for his conversion to democracy and capitalism, I had no illusions about Rawlings’ Ghana. I was determined that we should use the Queen’s visit to help ensure that Rawlings did indeed leave power in January 2001. According to the constitution, his second and final four year term as elected President expired then (if you politely ignored his previous decade as a military dictator). We should get the Queen to point him towards the exit.

Buckingham palace sent a team on an initial reconnaissance visit. It was led by an old friend of mine, Tim Hitchens, Assistant Private Secretary to the Queen, who had joined the FCO when I did. We identified the key features of the programme, which should centre around an address to Parliament. A walkabout might be difficult; Clinton had been almost crushed in Accra by an over-friendly crowd in a situation which got out of control. A school visit to highlight DFID’s work would provide the “meet the people” photo op, otherwise a drive past for the larger crowds. Key questions were identified as whether the Queen should visit Kumasi to meet Ghana’s most important traditional ruler, the Asantehene, and how she should meet the leader of the opposition, John Kufuor. Rawlings was likely to be opposed to both.

The recce visit went very well, and I held a reception for the team before they flew back to London. Several Ghanaian ministers came, and it ended in a very relaxed evening. Tim Hitchens commented that it was the first time he had ever heard Queen and Supertramp at an official function before. It turned out that we had very similar musical tastes.

Planning then took place at quite high intensity for several months. There were regular meetings with the Ghanaian government team tasked to organise the visit, headed by head of their diplomatic service Anand Cato, now Ghanaian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom. We then had to visit together all the proposed venues, and walk through the proposed routes, order of events, seating plans etc.

From the very first meeting between the two sides, held in a committee room at the International Conference Centre, it soon became obvious that we had a real problem with Ian Mackley. The High Commissioner had been very high-handed and abrupt with the visiting team from Buckingham Palace, so much so that Tim Hitchens had asked me what was wrong. I said it was just his manner. But there was more to it than that.

In the planning meetings, the set-up did not help the atmosphere. There were two lines of desks, facing each other. The British sat on one side and the Ghanaians on the other, facing each other across a wide divide. The whole dynamic was one of confrontation.

I have sat through some toe-curling meetings before, but that first joint State visit planning meeting in Accra was the worst. It started in friendly enough fashion, with greetings on each side. Then Anand Cato suggested we start with a quick run-through of the programme, from start to finish. “OK, now will the Queen be arriving by British Airways or by private jet?” asked Anand. “She will be on one of the VC10s of the Royal Flight” said Ian. “Right, that’s better. The plane can pull up to the stand closest to the VIP lounge. We will have the convoy of vehicles ready on the tarmac. The stairs will be put to the door, and then the chief of protocol will go up the stairs to escort the Queen and her party down the stairs, where there will be a small reception party…” “No, hang on there” interjected Ian Mackley, “I will go up the stairs before the chief of protocol.” “Well, it is customary for the Ambassador or High Commissioner to be in the receiving line at the bottom of the aircraft steps.” “Well, I can tell you for sure that the first person the Queen will want to see when she arrives in the country will be her High Commissioner.” “Well, I suppose you can accompany the chief up the steps if you wish…” “And my wife.” “Pardon?” “My wife Sarah. She must accompany me up the steps to meet the Queen.” “Look, it really isn’t practical to have that many people going on to an already crowded plane where people are preparing to get off…” “I am sorry, but I must insist that Sarah accompanies me up the stairs and on to the plane.” “But couldn’t she wait at the bottom of the steps?” “Absolutely not. How could she stand there without me?” “OK, well can we then mark down the question of greeting on the plane as an unresolved issue for the next meeting?” “Alright, but our side insists that my wife…” “Yes, quite. Now at the bottom of the steps Her Majesty will be greeted by the delegated minister, and presented with flowers by children.” “Please make sure we are consulted on the choice of children.” “If you wish. There will be national anthems, but I suggest no formal inspection of the Guard of Honour? Then traditional priests will briefly make ritual oblations, pouring spirits on the ground. The Queen will briefly enter the VIP lounge to take a drink.” “That’s a waste of time. Let’s get them straight into the convoy and off.” “But High Commissioner, we have to welcome a visitor with a drink. It is an essential part of our tradition. It will only be very brief.” “You can do what you like, but she’s not entering the VIP lounge. Waste of time.” “Let’s mark that down as another issue to be resolved. Now then, first journey…”

The meeting went on for hours and hours, becoming increasingly ill tempered. When we eventually got to the plans for the State Banquet, it all went spectacularly pear-shaped as it had been threatening to do. “Now we propose a top table of eight. There will be the President and Mrs Rawlings, Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh, The Vice President and Mrs Mills, and Mr and Mrs Robin Cook.” Ian positively went purple. You could see a vein throbbing at the top left of his forehead. He spoke as though short of breath. “That is not acceptable. Sarah and I must be at the top table”. “With respect High Commissioner, there are a great many Ghanaians who will feel they should be at the top table. As we are in Ghana, we feel we are being hospitable in offering equal numbers of British and Ghanaians at the top table. But we also think the best plan is to keep the top table small and exclusive.” “By all means keep it small,” said Ian, “but as High Commissioner I must be on it.” “So what do you suggest?” asked Anand. “Robin Cook” said Ian “He doesn’t need to be on the top table.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Neither could Anand. “I don’t think you are being serious, High Commissioner” he said. “I am entirely serious” said Ian. “I outrank Robin Cook. I am the personal representative of a Head of State. Robin Cook only represents the government.”

I decided the man had taken leave of his senses. I wondered at what stage can you declare your commanding officer mad and take over, like on The Cain Mutiny? Anand was obviously thinking much the same. “Perhaps I might suggest you seek instruction from headquarters on that one?” he asked. “Anyway, can we note that down as another outstanding item, and move on to…” I don’t know whether Ian secretly realised he had overstepped the mark, but he didn’t come to another planning meeting after that, leaving them to me and the very competent Second Secretary Mike Nithavrianakis.

The most difficult question of all was that of meeting the opposition. Eventually we got the agreement of Buckingham Palace and the FCO to say that, if the Queen were prevented from meeting the opposition, she wouldn’t come. But still the most we could get from Rawlings was that the leader of the opposition could be included in a reception for several hundred people at the International Conference Centre.

I had by now made good personal friends with several Ghanaian politicians. Among those who I could have a social drink with any time were, on the government side John Mahama, Minister of Information and Moses Asaga, Deputy Finance Minister, and on the opposition side John Kufuor, leader of the opposition, his colleagues Hackman Owusu-Agyemang, Shadow Foreign Minister, and Nana Akuffo-Addo, Shadow Attorney General.

In the International Conference Centre the precise route the Queen would take around the crowd was very carefully planned, so I was able to brief John Kufuor exactly where to stand to meet her, and brief the Queen to be sure to stop and chat with him. As he was the tallest man in the crowd, this was all not too difficult.

Once the Queen arrived and the visit started, everything happened in a three day blur of intense activity. Vast crowds turned out, and the Palace staff soon calmed down as they realised that the Queen could expect an uncomplicated and old fashioned reverence from the teeming crowds who were turning out to see “Our Mama”.

The durbar of chiefs in front of Parliament House was a riot of colour and noise. One by one the great chiefs came past, carried on their palanquins, preceded by their entourage, drummers banging away ferociously and the chiefs, laden down with gold necklaces and bangles, struggled to perform their energetic seated dances. Many of the hefty dancing women wore the cloth that had been created for the occasion, with a picture of the Queen jiggling about on one large breast in partnership with Jerry Rawlings jiving on the other, the same pairing being also displayed on the buttocks.

After the last of the chiefs went through, the tens of thousands of spectators started to mill everywhere and we had to race for the Royal convoy to get out through the crowds. Robin Cook had stopped to give an ad hoc interview to an extremely pretty South African television reporter. Mike Nithavrianakis tried to hurry him along but got a fierce glare for his pains. Eventually everyone was in their cars but Cook; the Ghanaian outriders were itching to start as the crowds ahead and around got ever denser.

But where was Cook? We delayed, with the Queen sitting in her car for two or three minutes, but still there was no sign of the Secretary of State or his staff getting into their vehicle. Eventually the outriders swept off; the crowds closed in behind and we had abandoned our dilettante Foreign Secretary. Having lost the protection of the convoy and being caught up in the crowds and traffic, it took him an hour to catch up.

Cook was an enigma. I had already experienced his famous lack of both punctuality and consideration when kept waiting to see him over the Sandline Affair. His behaviour now seemed to combine an attractive contempt for protocol with a goat-like tendency – would he have fallen behind to give a very bland interview to a male South African reporter? He was also breaking the tradition that the Foreign Secretary does not make media comments when accompanying the Queen.

When we returned to the Labadi Beach Hotel, there was to be further evidence of Cook’s view that the World revolved around him. He was interviewing FCO staff for the position of his new Private Secretary. Astonishingly, he had decided that it would best suit his itinerary to hold these interviews in Accra rather than London. One candidate, Ros Marsden, had an extremely busy job as Head of United Nations Department. Yet she had to give up three days work to fly to be interviewed in Accra, when her office was just round the corner from his in London. Other candidates from posts around the World had difficult journeys to complete to get to Accra at all. I thought this rather outrageous of Cook, and was surprised nobody else seemed much concerned.

The port town of Tema, linked to Accra by fifteen miles of motorway and fast becoming part of a single extensive metropolis, sits firmly on the Greenwich Meridian. As far as land goes, Tema is the centre of the Earth, being the closest dry spot to the junction of the Equator and the Greenwich Meridian. You can travel South from Tema over 6,000 miles across sea until you hit the Antarctic.

There was in 1999 a particular vogue for linking the Greenwich Meridian with the Millennium. This was because of the role of the meridian in determining not just longitude but time. Of course, the two are inextricably linked with time initially used to calculate longitude. That is why Greenwich hosted both the Naval Academy and the Royal Observatory.

The fascination with all this had several manifestations. There was a BBC documentary travelogue down the Greenwich meridian. There was a best-selling book about the invention of naval chronometers, Longitude by Dava Sobel, which I read and was as interesting as a book about making clocks can be. There were a number of aid projects down the meridian, including by War Child and Comic Relief. Tema and Greenwich became twin towns. And there was the visit of the Duke of Edinburgh to Tema.

I think this was the idea of my very good friend John Carmichael, who was involved in charity work on several of the meridian projects. It was thought particularly appropriate as one of the Duke of Edinburgh’s titles is Earl of Greenwich – though the man has so many titles you could come up with some connection to pretty well anywhere. We could make it a new game, like six degrees of separation. Connect your home town to the Duke of Edinburgh.

Anyway, Tim Hitchens had warned me that the Duke was very much averse to just looking at things without any useful purpose. As we stood looking at the strip of brass laid in a churchyard which marks the line of the meridian, he turned to me and said: “A line in the ground, eh? Very nice.”

But we moved on to see a computer centre that had been set up by a charity to give local people experience of IT and the internet (providing both electricity and phone lines were working, which thank goodness they were today) and the Duke visibly cheered up. He was much happier talking to the instructors and students, and then when we went on to a primary school that had received books from DFID he was positively beaming. The genuinely warm reception everywhere, with happy gaggles of people of all ages cheerfully waving their little plastic union jacks, would have charmed anybody.

We returned to Accra via the coast road and I was able to point out the work of the Ghanaian coffin makers, with coffins shaped and painted as tractors, beer bottles, guitars, desks, cars and even a packet of condoms. The Prince laughed heartily, and we arrived at the Parliament building in high good spirits. There he was first shown to a committee room where he was introduced to senior MPs of all parties. “How many Members of Parliament do you have?” he asked. “Two hundred” came the answer. “That’s about the right number,” opined the Prince, “We have six hundred and fifty MPs, and most of them are a complete bloody waste of time.”

The irony was that there was no British journalist present to hear this, as they had all thought a meeting between Prince Philip and Ghanaian parliamentarians would be too boring. There were Ghanaian reporters present, but the exchange didn’t particularly interest them. So a front page tabloid remark, with which the accompanying photo could have made a paparazzi a lot of money, went completely unreported.

On a State Visit, the media cannot each be at every occasion, as security controls mean they have to be pre-positioned rather than milling about while the event goes ahead. So by agreement, those reporters and photographers accredited to the visit share or pool their photos and copy. At each event there is a stand, or pool. Some events may have more than one pool to give different angles. Each journalist can probably make five or six pools in the course of the visit, leapfrogging ahead of the royal progress. But everyone gets access to material from all the pools. The FCO lays on the transport to keep things under control. Organising the pool positions ahead of the event with the host country, and then herding and policing the often pushy media in them, is a major organisational task. Mike Nithavrianakis had carried it off with style and only the occasional failure of humour. But he had found no takers for Prince Philip in parliament, which proved to be fortunate for us.

I should say that I found Prince Philip entirely pleasant while spending most of this day with him. I am against the monarchy, but it was not created by the Queen or Prince Philip. Just as Colonel Isaac of the RUF was a victim of the circumstances into which he was born, so are they. Had I been born into a life of great privilege, I would probably have turned out a much more horrible person than they are.

Prince Philip then joined the Queen in the parliamentary chamber. Her address to parliament was to be the focal point of the visit. I had contributed to the drafting of her speech, and put a lot of work into it. The speech was only six minutes long (she never speaks longer than that, except at the State Opening of Parliament. Her staff made plain that six minutes was an absolute maximum.) It contained much of the usual guff about the history of our nations and the importance of a new future based upon partnership. But then she addressed Rawlings directly, praising his achievements in bringing Ghana on to the path of democracy and economic stability. The government benches in parliament provided an undercurrent of parliamentary “hear hears”.

But there was to be a sting in the tale: “Next, year, Mr President,” the Queen intoned, “You will step down after two terms in office in accordance with your constitution.” The opposition benches went wild. The Queen went on to wish for peaceful elections and further progress, but it was drowned out by the cries of “hear hear” and swishing of order papers from the benches, and loud cheers from the public gallery. There were mooted cries of “No” from the government side of the chamber.

I had drafted that phrase, and it had a much greater effect than I possibly hoped for, although I did mean it to drive home the message exactly as it was taken.

For a moment the Queen stopped. She looked in bewilderment and concern at the hullabaloo all around her. The Queen has no experience of speaking to anything other than a hushed, respectful silence. But, apart from some grim faces on the government benches, it was a joyful hullabaloo and she ploughed on the short distance to the end of her speech.

Once we got back to the Labadi Beach Hotel, Robin Cook was completely furious. He stormed into the makeshift Private Office, set up in two hotel rooms. “It’s a disaster. Who the Hell drafted that?” “Err, I did, Secretary of State” I said. “Is that you, Mr Murray! I might have guessed! Who the Hell approved it.” “You did.” “I most certainly did not!” “Yes you did, Secretary of State. You agreed the final draft last night.”

His Private Secretary had to dig out the copy of the draft he had signed off. He calmed down a little, and was placated further when the Queen’s robust press secretary, Geoff Crawford, said that he took the view that it was a good thing for the Queen to be seen to be standing up for democracy. It could only look good in the UK press. He proved to be right.

The State Banquet was a rather dull affair. Ian Mackley’s great battle to be on the top table proved rather nugatory as, in very Ghanaian fashion, nobody stayed in their seat very long and people were wandering all over the shop. There were a large number of empty seats as, faced with an invitation to dinner at 7.30pm, many Ghanaians followed their customary practice and wandered along an hour or so late, only to find they would not be admitted. This caused a huge amount of angst and aggravation, from which those of us inside were fortunately sheltered.

Mrs Rawlings had chosen a well known Accra nightclub owner named Chester to be the compère for the occasion. His bar is a relaxed spot in a small courtyard that features good jazz and highlife music, and prostitutes dressed as Tina Turner. It was a second home for the officers of the British Military Advisory and Training Team (BMATT).

Chester himself was friendly and amusing, but amusing in a Julian Clary meets Kenneth Williams meets Liberace sort of way. Chester says he is not gay, (regrettably homosexuality is illegal in Ghana) but his presentation is undeniably ultra camp. It is hard to think of a weirder choice to chair a state banquet, but Chester was a particular pet of Mrs Rawlings.

Chester was stood on the platform next to the Queen, gushing about how honoured he was. His speech was actually very witty, but the delivery was – well, Chester. I turned to Prince Philip and remarked: “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two Queens together before.” To give credit to Chester, I gather he has been telling the story ever since.

High camp was to be a theme of that evening.

Fiona and I accompanied the Royal party back to the Labadi Beach Hotel to say goodnight, after which Fiona returned home to Devonshire House while I remained for a debriefing on the day and review of the plans for tomorrow. By the time we had finished all that it was still only 11pm and I retired to the bar of the Labadi Beach with the Royal Household. The senior staff – Tim and Geoff – withdrew as is the custom, to allow the butlers, footmen, hairdressers and others to let off steam.

The party appeared, to a man, to be gay. Not just gay but outrageously camp. The Labadi Beach, with its fans whirring under polished dark wood ceilings, its panelled bar, displays of orchids, attentive uniformed staff and glossy grand piano – has the aura of a bygone colonial age, like something from Kenya’s Happy Valley in the 1930s. You expect to see Noel Coward emerge in his smoking jacket and sit down at the piano, smoking through a mother of pearl cigarette holder. It is exactly the right setting for a gay romp, and that is exactly what developed after a few of the Labadi Beach’s wonderful tropical cocktails.

We had taken the entire hotel for the Royal party, except that we had allowed the British Airways crew to stay there as always. Now three of their cabin stewards, with two Royal footmen and the Queen’s hairdresser, were grouped around the grand singing Cabaret with even more gusto than Liza. Other staff were smooching at the bar. All this had developed within half an hour in a really magical and celebratory atmosphere that seemed to spring from nothing. I was seated on a comfortable sofa, and across from me in an armchair was the one member of the Household who seemed out of place. The Duke of Edinburgh’s valet looked to be in his sixties, a grizzled old NCO with tufts of hair either side of a bald pate, a boxer’s nose and tattoos on his arms. He was smoking roll-ups.

He was a nice old boy and we had been struggling to hold a conversation about Ghana over the din, when two blokes chasing each other ran up to the settee on which I was sitting. One, pretending to be caught, draped himself over the end and said: “You’ve caught me, you beast!” I turned back to the old warrior and asked: “Don’t you find all this a bit strange sometimes?�� He lent forward and put his hand on my bare knee below my kilt: “Listen, ducks. I was in the Navy for thirty years.”

So I made my excuses and left, as the News of the World journalists used to put it. I think he was probably joking, but there are some things that are too weird even for me, and the lower reaches of the Royal household are one of them. I have heard it suggested that such posts have been filled by gays for centuries, just as harems were staffed by eunuchs, to avoid the danger of a Queen being impregnated. Recently I have been most amused by news items regarding the death of the Queen Mother’s long-standing footman, who the newsreaders have been informing us was fondly known as “Backstairs Billy”. They manage to say this without giving the slightest hint that they know it is a double entendre.

The incident in parliament had made the Rawlings government even more annoyed about the proposed handshake in the International Conference Centre reception between the Queen and John Kufuor. My own relationship with Ian Mackley had also deteriorated still further as a result of the Royal Visit. I had the advantage that I already knew from previous jobs the palace officials and Robin Cook’s officials, and of course Robin Cook himself, not to mention the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh. All in all, I suspect that Ian felt that I was getting well above myself.

As the party formed up to walk around the reception in the International Conference Centre, Ian came up to me and grabbed my arm rather fiercely. “You, just stay with the Queen’s bodyguards” he said. I did not mind at all, and attached myself to another Ian, the head of the Queen’s close protection team. I already knew Ian also. Ian set off towards the hall and started ensuring a path was clear for the Queen, I alongside him as ordered. Suddenly I heard Sarah Mackley positively squeal from somewhere behind me: “My God, he’s ahead of the Queen! Now Craig’s ahead of the Queen.” If I could hear it, at least forty other people could. I managed to make myself as invisible as possible, and still to accomplish the introduction to John Kufuor. The government newspaper the Daily Graphic was to claim indignantly that I had introduced John Kufuor as “The next President of Ghana.” Had I done so, I would have been in the event correct in my prediction, but in fact I introduced him as “The opposition Presidential candidate”.

As always, the Queen’s last engagement on the State Visit was to say farewell to all the staff who had helped. She gives out gifts, and confers membership of the Royal Victorian Order on those deemed to merit it. Only once in the Queen’s long reign had she ever been on a state visit and not created our Ambassador or High Commissioner a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order – that is to say, knighted him. Ian and Sarah were to become Sir Ian and Lady Sarah. This seemed to me to mean the world to them.

The day before, Tim Hitchens had turned to me as we were travelling in the car: “Craig, I take it your views on honours have not changed.” “No, Tim, I still don’t want any.” “Good, you see that makes it a bit easier, actually. You see, the thing is, we’re trying to cut down a bit on giving out routine honours. The government wants a more meritocratic honours system. We need to start somewhere. So, in short, Ian Mackley is not going to get his K.” I was stunned. Tim continued: “And as well, you see, it hasn’t exactly escaped our attention that he has … issues with the Ghanaians, and some of his attitudes didn’t exactly help the visit. Anyway, if you were to want your CVO, then that would be more difficult. Ian Mackley is going to have one of those. So that will be alright.”

No, it won’t be alright, I thought. You’ll kill the poor old bastard. For God’s sake, everyone will know.

I wondered when the decision had been taken. The kneeling stool and the ceremonial sword had definitely been unloaded from the plane and taken to the hotel: that was one of the things I had checked off. When had that decision been reached?

We were lined up in reverse order of seniority to go in and see the Queen and Prince Philip. I queued behind the Defence Attaché, with Ian and Sarah just behind me. She was entering as well – nobody else’s wife was – because she was expecting to become Lady Mackley. Tim was going to tell them quickly after I had entered, while they would be alone still waiting to go in.

You may not believe me, but I felt completely gutted for them. It was the very fact they were so status obsessed that made it so cruel. I was thinking about what Tim was saying to them and how they would react. It seemed terribly cruel that they had not been warned until the very moment before they were due to meet the Queen. I was so worried for them that I really had less than half my mind on exchanging pleasantries with the Queen, who was very pleasant, as always.

If you refused honours, as I always did, you got compensated by getting a slightly better present. In Warsaw I was given a silver Armada dish, which is useful for keeping your Armada in. In Accra I was given a small piece of furniture made with exquisite craftsmanship by Viscount Linley. Shelving my doubts about the patronage aspect of that (should the Queen be purchasing with public money official gifts made by her cousin?) I staggered out holding rather a large red box, leaving through the opposite side of the room to that I had entered. Outside the door I joined the happy throng of people clutching their presents and minor medals. Mike Nithavrianakis and Brian Cope were Ian Mackley’s friends, and they were waiting eagerly for him. “Here’s Craig” said Mike, “Now it’s only Sir Ian and Lady Sarah!” “No, it’s not, Mike”, I said, “He’s not getting a K” “What! You’re kidding!” It had suddenly fallen very silent. “Ian’s not getting a K, he’s only getting a CVO.” “Oh, that’s terrible.” We waited now in silence. Very quickly the door opened again, and the Mackleys came out, Ian with a frozen grin, Sarah a hysterical one beneath the white large-brimmed hat that suddenly looked so ridiculous. There was a smattering of applause, and Sarah fell to hugging everyone, even me. We all congratulated Ian on his CVO, and nobody ever mentioned that there had been any possibility of a knighthood, then or ever.

Personally I don’t understand why anyone accepts honours when there is so much more cachet in refusing them.

#prince phillip #prince phillip death #prince phillip is dead #craig murray #ghana

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 5 years

Text

Edinburgh To Boston - Chapter 10 - Getting To Know You

Good evening all,

I’m back with Chapter 10. I tried something different here and I hope you all like it. There are some words I used that I got from Google Translate, I hope they are correct. The story also includes references to middle eastern culture. I also hope these are correct. I did my due diligence and researched the culture as best as I could. If there are errors, I do apologize.

We are nearing the end of this story. I am wondering if after I finish it should I continue with a Part II? Would you all be interested in continuing to read about these two or should I move on to something else? Your opinion matters to me.

Any thoughts or comments you have about the story, please let me know. Constructive, respectful criticism is welcome.

I need to thank @curlsgetdemgurls for putting up with me, encouraging me, and being the best beta around.

So without further ado, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 10

Getting To Know You

SPLAT!!!

Something struck Jamie squarely in the center of his back. He had a suspicion of what hit him and who did it. Turning around he found Claire standing several feet behind him with the most angelic look on her face and her hands behind her back.

“What are ye doin’ there a nighean?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously. She had the appearance of pure innocence.

“Oh, Jamie! I saw it happen. Those little buggers. It was a drive-by snowballing. They ran off that way.” she pointed with her chin toward the street.

Against his better judgment, he turned to gaze in the direction that the supposed miscreants had fled.

SMACK!!!

Another snowball struck Jamie just below his hairline. The snow had yet to freeze and remained soft and powdery. The cold missile exploded sending a shower of fine-grained flakes across his neck tightly gripping his warm skin with icy fingers.

“Ifrinn! Now, Claire! I…” Jamie grumbled, wiping off his forehead, fingers cold.

THUMP!!!

Hurling her third projectile, it impacted successfully at his mid-center.

“OOF! I’ll get ye for this, ye wee minx. See if I dinna,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He meant to get his revenge.

“Catch me if you can!” Claire squealed as she turned to run as fast as the snow-covered walk permitted.

She was no match for Jamie’s long stride and powerful leg muscles.

“Got ye, ye wee besom. Now, tell me what I should do with ye?” He caught up his Sassenach wrapped his arms around her, gripped her in a tight embrace, lifting her up.

“Anything you want to,” she smirked.

Claire dropped her head down and gently kissed him on the tip of the nose. Her eyes shining bright with mischief.

“I can think of any number of things I’d like to do to ye, but none of them can be done in a public place.”

She lowered her head kissing him tenderly on his wide sweet mouth. Her lips parted, tongue sweeping across his, seeking entry. Granted. Their kiss deepened. The world, the cold, the snow all melted away.

“For the love of Mike! Get a room will ya?! This is a public park.” A voice barked out from some distance away.

The lovers broke apart, each looking at the other giggling.

“We have one!” they called back in unison to the anonymous voice.

“Then go there and use it, for Pete’s sake.” There was no malice to the voice rather it sounded amused and happy for the couple.

“Aye, I think we will. Thank ye for the advice.”

*************

The lovers continued their slow-paced walk. Hands linked, fingers intertwined, they stole shy glances at each other. She found his crooked smile charming. He thought her smile sweetly radiant, warming him to the backbone. The walkway was narrow causing them to frequently brush against each other or they wanted to believe.

They talked about everything and nothing, truly getting to know each other. Even though they had worked together for the past year, they knew precious little about each other.

“Have I ever told ye about my family, Sassenach?”

“No, not really,” Claire shook her head.

Jamie, a born storyteller, told her about his family and childhood at Lallybroch.

“My Mam, she seemed to favor me for some reason.” He added quickly, “No’ that she dinna love Willie and Jenny, but she would always look at me, smile and tell me that I was special that I was born to do something important. She said she kent it the day I was born. She would look at me and say, “Jamie lad, I want ye tae study hard, harder than ye want tae or think ye need tae. Someday ye will do something that will affect a lot of people. Ye need tae be ready.'’ I always thought all Mams said such things to their bairns. I dinna ken what I was supposed to do, but I studied hard just as she asked.”

“Now my brother Willie, I idolized him. He could do no wrong as far as I was concerned,” Jamie said with a wistful look on his face, his eyes glistening. “Lord, I was a true pest! I followed him everywhere he went, never chased me away. I mimicked everything he did or tried to. He was to be the next Laird, no’ me,” he said with some guilt in his voice. “He woulda been the better choice for it.”

“Why so?”

“He loved the land, the farm. No’ that I don’t, mind ye, but he woulda stayed at Lallybroch. No’ like me. I kent I had something else to do.”

He went on to tell her about playing with Ian his best friend and his sister Jenny. Bossy one she is and a true meddler. Jenny took over the household when Mam died. He told her tales of going fishing in a burn, sword fights with sticks, climbing trees, and a broken arm from falling out of a tree.

“Did I tell ye about the time Ian and I set the barn on fire? Accidental like, ye ken?” He looked rather sheepish in the telling. “Weel, it happened just after I turned fifteen.”

“Did ye get it,” I asked anxiously as I grabbed Ian by the arm pulling him into the barn.

“Aye, I did.” Ian looked around making sure that they were alone. He looked nervous.

“We’re alone here ye numpty. Where is it?”

He pulled out a fairly crumpled handkerchief from his jeans pocket. The unwrapped bundle revealed a cigarette, somewhat bent, but intact. A half empty book of matches was withdrawn from his other pocket.

Standing there the two boys looked at the cigarette with great reverence. It was the symbol of their burgeoning manhood. They thought of emulating cool Hollywood icons, Steve McQueen, James Dean, Paul Newman, or Marlon Brando with a cigarette hanging from their lips.

“What if we get caught, Jamie? Our Das will kill us.” Second thoughts raced through Ian’s mind wanting to forget the whole idea.

“Nah, we’re safe here. They’re in the fields and willna be back for a few hours,” he grinned. “Ye watched yer faither smokin’ one. So, how do we do it?”

Sighing, he acquiesced to the plan. “He does something like this.” Ian placed the cigarette in his mouth, letting it dangle trying to look ‘cool’. Instead, he looked like a bird with a worm drooping from its beak. He struck the match and the smell of sulfur floated about the barn. The flame ignited the end turning the tip red and glowing. He took a tentative inhale causing the paper to blacken. The fragrant scent of burning tobacco lifted and borne upon the air current. He choked, coughed, and his eyes began to water. His wame twisted and turned with the collywobbles.

“‘Tis good,” he exclaimed lying, not wanting to look unmanly.

“Ye try.”

Jamie dubiously scrutinized his friend/brother. “Ye dinna look so good.” He took the cigarette afraid to look the coward, took a deep inhale, held his breath, eyes bulging wide, and expelled the blue-grey smoke in one giant cough. He continued to cough, sputter, gag, and felt the bile rise to his throat.

“I dinna ken why anyone would wanna tae do this! It tastes nasty, burns my throat and makes me wanna puke.”

At that moment, the laddies heard the return of their fathers from the fields.

They looked at each other with abject horror on their faces, knowing they would soon be caught.

“Damn it, Jamie. I thought ye said they would be gone for a while.” Ian grabbed the cigarette threw it down trying to stomp on it but did not see where it had dropped.

“He told me they would be gone for about an hour or two! They must have finished early.”

They ran to the barn door just in time to see their fathers cresting the hill.

“Did ye put it out?”

“I dinna ken. I think so. It got buried in the hay.”

“Jamie, lad where are ye? Have ye finished yer chores?” Brian Fraser called out in his deep rumbling voice.

“Och, Brian, ye ken they’re probably off on some mischief.” Auld John chuckled. “Ye ken what they’re...what’s that smell? Like something’s burning.” He raised his long straight nose in the air and began to sniff. His eyes drifted toward the barn. “FIRE!!!!”

All the heads swiveled toward the barn. It was on fire.

“Christ,” Jamie exclaimed looking at the back of the barn where they had just been. “Ian get water, I’ll get the horses out. NOW.”

Ian nodded his head and ran hell-for-leather to find the hose to drag it into the barn.

The horses were stamping, snorting, large heads tossing in agitation, eyes wide rolling wildly in their sockets while trying to break free from their stalls.

Donas, the massive ill-tempered black, gnashed his teeth.

“Sin, na biodh eagal ort a-nis. Tha mi an seo.”

Jamie took his shirt off threw it over the head of the black leading him out of the stall. He ran back leading the other two horses to safety.

Ian had returned with the hose dousing the fire putting it out.

Their fathers had arrived breathless from running to find everything under control.

“Care tae explain this?!”

Squaring his shoulders, standing to his full height and taking a deep breath (while commending his soul to God), Jamie told the truth taking the full blame. “I talked Ian into taking one of his Da’s cigarettes. The blame for everything should rest on me. I’m sorry Da.”

“Ye canna take the whole blame. I had a part in this also. ‘Tis my fault as much as his. I’m sorry too Da.”

Jamie stood with his hands clasped in front of him awaiting judgment and punishment to be pronounced. Likewise, Ian stood straight, hands at his side, ready to hear his sentence like a convict before a judge.

“Bairn, get ye tae the rail. Brian’s hands went to unbuckle his belt.

“Both of ye.” Auld John said in a tone that would brook no argument.

“No. Sir.”

“Defiant too, I see. Whatever has gotten into that thick skull of yers, son? Are ye testing me?” Brian asked his face red with fury.

“No, sir. I am no’ testing ye. I just think that I should be punished as a man, no’ as a boy. I have admitted my wrongdoing, seen the error of it, and willing tae take my punishment as a man would, sir.”

“Oh, ye think ye are a man now? Would a man be as careless and start such a fire, hmm? I think no’. Over tae the fence and let’s get on with it.”

“No, Da. Ye need tae punish me as a man, no’ as a boy.”

The two fathers walked away from the boys to confer with each other.

“Man!” Brian snorted sarcastically. “I’ll gie ye a chance tae prove yer a man. As a man, ye should choose yer own punishment. But, I warn ye, if it is not serious enough ye will be over that fence faster than a thought going between a lad and a lass.”

This was an unexpected turn of events.

Jamie and Ian also went to consult with each other and came back with a plan.

Jamie cleared his throat then began, “We have caused considerable damage tae the barn, so we thought we could repair whatever was destroyed in the fire on our free-time after school and weekends. We’ll clean out the old storage shed tae make room for the horses tae stay until the barn is repaired and we’ll take care of the horses, feeding, watering, grooming them, and mucking out the shed. In addition to our regular chores.”

“Ye ken that means ye have to give up yer after-school activities and sports.”

“Aye, Da we ken. We want tae prove we are responsible for our actions and make amends. We’ll explain to coach why we canna participate.”

The two young men stood patiently awaiting the acceptance or rejection of their proposed punishment.

Their fathers looked at each other and smiled.

“Get ye gone, lad. Tell your sister that four men are hungry for their supper.”

Jamie turned to look at his Sassenach after telling her this tale.

"Strange, the things you remember. The people, the places, the moments in time burned into your heart forever, while others fade into the mist. I've always known I would live a life different from other men. When I was a lad, I saw no path to take in front of me. I simply took a step and then another. Moving ever forward, ever onward. Rushing towards someplace, I kent not where. Then one day, I turned around and looked back. I realized that each step I'd taken was a choice. To go left, to go right, to go forward, or maybe no’ go at all. Every day, every man has to make a choice between right and wrong, between love and hate, and even between life and death. And the sum of those choices becomes your life. The day I realized that I became a man.”

There was a faraway look on his sweet face, seeing memories of a time long gone.

“My Da was a strict man, but fair. That day I saw him bend and it made me mindful of what it meant to be a man. A man is one who cares for his family, his community, his friends, his land. He takes responsibility for his actions every day of his life. From that day, I kent I wanted to be just like him. I took things more serious like after that day.”

Jamie paused in telling his story drawing Claire to him gathering the strength to continue from her nearness.

“It...It was after my parents and Willie deaths that I decided to become a doctor. I thought I should do something to help other people, ye ken. Since my heart was broken, I thought I would become a heart surgeon so I could fix other people’s broken hearts and give them a second chance. Does this make sense tae ye, Claire?”

“Perfect sense.”

His hands went to her waist, pulling her even closer to him anchoring himself to her. He rested his chin on the top of her wooly cap. “Do ye think me becoming a doctor and helping people is what my Mam meant about doing something important that would affect a lot of people?”

“I don’t know if she knew you would become a doctor, Jamie but you help so many people because you are. That is something important. The one thing that I do know is she would be so proud of you.”

“Thank ye, Sassenach, for listening.” He clasped her close to him feeling her love permeate out into him warming him to the bone.

He kissed her tenderly on the lips then gave her a little push back looking into her warm amber eyes.

“Enough about me. What about ye, my Sassenach, what was it like growin’ up for ye?”

Claire reciprocated in kind. Telling him of her Travels with Lamb. She laughed saying she always thought that maybe it should be the title of a book. Besides Lamb, there was Firouz, a manservant in her uncle’s employ. Far from being just a steward, Firouz became a beloved second uncle.

Her uncle undertook her education with Claire studying by lamplight each night. On her own, she learned enough of the local language and customs which allowed her to play with the village children. She also learned how to do many things not normally suited for a young lady of gentle birth, digging latrines, hauling water, building campfires, cataloging artifacts, and generally helping her uncle with his excavations.

The trio traveled the world together. India, Egypt, Peru, Mexico were by far the most frequented archeological sites. There once was a summer spent in Paris, while Lamb helped organize an exhibition at the Louvre.

“When I first went with my uncle I was five years old. Poor Firouz, he more or less became my nanny. I spent all my time with him whilst my uncle worked in the field.”

“Come little one! We must hurry to the market before the Aljaddat buy everything. If we do not get there soon, whatever is left will not even be fit for the dogs.”

The child’s legs were no match for the long graceful strides of the man. So, she simply gave up and sat down in the dirt road in her pretty pink dress, white pinafore, white ankle socks with lace trim, and black mary jane shoes. The dust and sand blew around her, covering her in a fine layer of dirt. Her face was gritty, and her curly hair a magnet for grim. The road traffic, braying donkeys and bleating goats, people on foot, children running amongst the animals and pedestrians, passed around her without so much as a glance. No one paid attention to the strange forlorn little girl sitting on the ground.

The man continued to talk believing that the child remained at his side. He stopped when she did not answer him and froze. He looked around and she was gone. Where did she go? Firouz, fearing the worst, began to run quickly retracing his steps only to find her sitting waif-like in the road. He ran to her picked her up cradling her to him. He ran his hands over her, checking her for any obvious sign of injury. Thank Allah, she was sound.

“What were you doing, child? Why were you sitting there?”

“I couldn’t walk that fast.” She looked up at his face speaking in a tiny tremulous voice, “I thought you left me too.” Claire buried her face into the crook of his neck, sobbing.

‘You are a foolish man, Firouz’, he berated himself. ‘She is so small, how could she keep up with you? And after everything that has happened to her? You must be more careful.’ He felt guilty for almost losing the Professor’s niece. But he was a bachelor in the service of a bachelor. What did he know of children, especially a little girl?

“Do not cry Aziz, I will never leave you.” He wiped her face with the sleeve of his tunic. “Let us go to the market, I will carry you.”

“My name is Claire, not Az...Azz”

“Aziz, little one. To me you are Aziz.”

“What does that mean, Aziz?”

“It means beloved.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled.

“Come, let us go, before there is nothing left, only food not even fit for the dogs.”

Claire, snuggled against him and gave a little giggle.

Five Years Later -

“Come onnnn, Uncle Firouz, what is taking you so loooong?” Claire now age ten, ran ahead of her Uncle. She was indistinguishable from the other street urchins, dressed in loose white gallabya decorated with colorful embroidery and a floppy hat on her head. The sun had kissed her once porcelain skin turning it a warm golden brown. Her hair glowed with strands of gold, copper, and auburn scattering amid her dark brown curls. The child was thriving and happy, Firouz thought and was pleased. Although, there were moments when he could still see terrible sadness in those remarkable topaz eyes.

Claire ran back to her Uncle grabbed his hand pulling him toward the market. “Uncle Firouz if we don’t hurry then the Aljaddat will buy the best and ...”

“We will get what is not fit even for the dogs,” he said with a laugh. “You do pay attention, Aziz.”

Claire’s shining eyes looked up at him with affection, “Yes, Uncle I do.”

Claire ran amongst the stalls picking, choosing, and bargaining just as her Uncle had taught her. It amused him to watch her haggle, hands on her hips, pretending that the quality of the merchandise was poor and negotiating for a better price. She was an amazing child this child of his heart.

After purchasing what they needed, they walked to a cafe where her guardian would sit and take coffee with a friend.

“You have done well Aziz and earned a treat.” He reached into a pocket gave her some coins. “Go and buy yourself something. But do not be long, we must get back to the camp.” He touched her cheek tenderly, “Now shoo.”

To Claire, the bazaar was a magical place. The sights, the sounds, the smells that wafted around her enticed her to come nearer much as a moth dangerously circled close to a flame. All the tents, shops, and stalls were decorated with colorful pennants and banners, blue, red, yellow, green, offsetting the drab desert colors of neverending orange-yellow sand and dreary beige landscapes. Flags swayed gently in the breeze beckoning her forward like a finger curling in temptation. Many of the shopkeepers knew her by name and called to her hawking their wares.

She didn’t know what to do with her few coins. Should she buy herself a treat of some candy or a sweet bun? Perhaps she should save it as Lamb’s birthday was near and she wanted to get him a little present.

She wandered the maze of the marketplace, looking at this and that but finding nothing she wanted. Suddenly a gust of wind rose up around her carrying a spicy, herbal smell on the air that she had never noticed before. The aroma pulled at her with an almost mystical proportion weaving around her transporting her to it. She followed the fragrance to a tent where a woman was busy grinding something. She shyly crept forward watching the woman work.

“Do you wish to watch, child?”

Claire nodded. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making medicines.”

“Why?”

“Because some people come to me for help when they are sick.”

“But there are doctors and hospitals for that.”

“Some people prefer the old ways, the more natural ways, and sometimes people cannot afford to go to doctors or hospitals. So, they come to me.”

Inching closer, she peered into the bowl. She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar odor.

“These are coriander seeds.”

“What’s it for?”

“It can be used for many things. Like relieving pain and stiffness in joints, headaches, stomach aches, like when you eat too many sweets!” The woman tickled Claire’s belly and laughed broadly showing a number of missing teeth.

“Would you like to try?”

Her head nodded vigorously.

Pulling up a stool for Claire to kneel on, she began to show her how to grind and crush with a mortar and pestle. They laughed at some of the seeds escaping over the rim of the bowl.

The sound of grinding and scraping filled the little enclosure. The healer showed her novice different herbs and spices explaining what each was used for and how to make tisanes and ointments with each.

A great shadow darkened the entrance, “What are you doing with my niece, witch?” said a deep male voice brusquely.

“I am not a witch!!” the woman spurted out angrily. “It is always the same. Women who have knowledge of healing are condemned as witches.”

Claire looked from her Uncle to her new friend in complete confusion. “Uncle, she was only showing…”

“Enough, Aziz, we must be going. It is getting late.” Firouz spoke more sharply than he had intended.

“Yes, young one, it is late. You must go back with your Uncle.”

“Will I see you again?”

The woman looked at Firouz who scowled fiercely at her. “No, child, I will be gone by the morning.” Carefully, so as not to be seen, she slipped a small pouch into Claire’s hand and whispered, “Something to remember me by. Do not show it to anyone. It will help you when you heal.”

Claire gave a little nod, slipped it into a pocket murmuring thank you.

“We are leaving Aziz. Come.” Firouz took her small hand in his large one guiding her out of the shelter.

“Why were you so upset, Uncle? She was just teaching me her ways of healing. It was interesting.”

“Aziz, women like her are often looked upon as witches. The villagers might think of you in the same way if they see you with her. It could only bring trouble for you if they do. I only want to protect you, my precious girl,” he said with a sad smile.

That night Claire spoke with her Uncle Lamb about what had happened. He thought it all stuff and nonsense as he did not share the villagers’ superstitions.

“Claire, the most important thing you need to learn, even though we do not share their beliefs, it is to respect them.”

“Even if their beliefs are wrong, Uncle?”

“Even if they are wrong. You must remember, my heart, that these people have never been more than a day’s ride away from where they were born. They live in small villages, and among the oases. They don’t know anything else other than the superstitions and beliefs that have been passed down over the centuries. It is hard to blame them as they don’t know any better or different.

“But shouldn’t we tell them it’s wrong?”

Lamb considered for a moment what to say, “My precious girl, you have a kind heart, this I know and you would like to help people, but changing long-held beliefs takes a very, very long time to take place. It can happen, but not as quickly as you or I would like. Have faith that someday it will come about.”

“That was the lady’s name...Iman. She told me it means to be faithful.”

He pulled his niece onto his lap, cuddling her close to his heart. “I love you my Claire, you are my heart’s own child.” He kissed the top of her curly head.

Lamb sat in quiet contemplation before speaking again.

“Firouz, I think we should encourage Claire’s interest in healing. What do you say?”

“As you wish, Professor.”

“There is one proviso, my dear girl, and that is if Firouz or I think you should not go to visit one of these healers, you will obey our instructions.” Lamb raised an inquiring eyebrow to her.

“I’ll listen to you and Uncle Firouz. I promise. Thank you, Uncles.” Claire snuggled into Lamb’s chest, feeling safe and loved.

“As we traveled to different countries, I spent time with the local healer, herbalists, shaman, or curanderos learning how they healed the sick and what herbs they used. I think that Iman set me on my path to becoming a healer, a doctor that afternoon.”

“I have one question for ye Sassenach, what was in the pouch?”

“Ah, well there was dried mint and thyme leaves, coriander seeds, and a small uncut, unpolished sapphire. Sapphires help to channel healing energy from one person to another. Very essential for any healer to have, wouldn’t you say. I kept the pouch in memory of Iman, my first medical teacher. The herbs are all dust now, but the sapphire is still there.”

“Yer a verra fine doctor, Sassenach. Iman would be proud.”

Claire kept her arms wrapped around her Scot, holding him close, resting her head on his chest.

“Thank you, Jamie, for always being there for me.” Standing on her toes she reached up and tenderly kiss him. She relaxed into his embrace feeling loved and cared for.

They stood holding each other within the sanctuary of their cocoon enjoying the warm feelings from sharing parts of their life story with each other.

Their heads rose listening to the stramash slowly headed their way. A voice carried on the swell of the air currents. It sounded like a woman scolding someone, scolding, a child. The voice sounded familiar. It carried a certain lilt to it. Scottish.

“Rabbie, ye wee gomeral! Dinna stick yer brother’s head in the snow, aye. He canna breathe in there.”

The figures drew closer, a man and a woman, an elderly couple. Accompanying them were two children, two boys and rambunctious ones at that. Always one with a good eye for detail, Jamie was certain he had met the couple before. The man had a jaunty set to his cap, a commanding height, and the spectacles were placed on the tip of his nose. The woman also was tall, but not as tall as the man, grey hair, and had a certain fullness of figure, grandmother-like.

“Sassenach, ‘tis Harry and Maizie from the plane. I dinna think we would ever see them again,” he said a wide smile playing across his sweet mouth.

Jamie raised his arm waving it furiously loudly calling out, “mo charaid.”

***********

Oh, Jamie! I saw it happen. Those little buggers. It was a drive-by snowballing. They ran off that way. -- I adapted this from the movie Mrs. Doubtfire and the drive-by fruiting. RIP Robin Williams

Sin, na biodh eagal ort a-nis. Tha mi an seo -- Hush, don’t be afraid. I am here now.

Aljaddat -- Grandmothers

Aziz -- Beloved

Gallabya -- is a traditional Egyptian garment native to the Nile Valley.

Iman -- to be faithful

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 10 #getting to know you #outlander fic #my writing #growing up #cigarette #fire #egypt #healer #Harry and Maizie return #bet you didn't see that coming #curlsgetdemgurls #julesbeauchamp #we are almost at the end #Here Goes Nothing

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treatmentpros-blog · 4 years

Video

Contact

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sztupy · 5 years

Text

Vehetnének példát Budapesttől!

#rant #post #own

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pestscontroledinburgh-blog · 5 years

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Pests Control Edinburgh is an Edinburgh based Pest Control Company, looking after domestic and commercial customers throughout Edinburgh 24/7!

Pests Control Edinburgh is an Edinburgh based Pest Control Company. We look after both commercial and domestic customers throughout Edinburgh, dealing with a wide range of pest control issues. Our team work around the clock 24/7 with a superfast call out service. Our services include rodent control, ant removal, bee and wasp removal, bird proofing, solar panel proofing, bedbug eradication and more. Contact us today for a FREE No-Obligation Quote.

Pests Control Edinburgh https://www.pestscontroledinburgh.co.uk/ 0131 285 8666 The Melting Pot, 5 Rose Street, Edinburgh, EH2 2PR United Kingdom

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mikeo56 · 5 years

Link

Monsanto is strongly disputing the assessment, which was published online on March 20 (Lancet Oncol. 2015, DOI: 10.1016/s1470-2045(15)70134-8).

- Chief lying bastard Phillip Miller for Monsanto never departing far from Monsanto’s constant tactic of deceit, lies that:

“We don’t know how IARC could reach a conclusion that is such a dramatic departure from the conclusion reached by all regulatory agencies around the globe,” says Philip Miller, vice president of global regulatory affairs at Monsanto.

Dramatic Conclusion: Where is Glyphosate Banned?

The following countries have issued outright bans on glyphosate, imposed restrictions or have issued statements of intention to ban or restrict glyphosate-based herbicides, including Roundup, over health concerns and the ongoing Roundup cancer litigation:

Argentina: In 2015, more than 30,000 health care professionals advocated for a glyphosate ban following the International Agency for Research on Cancer’s (IARC) report on glyphosate, which concluded the chemical is probably carcinogenic to humans. More than 400 towns and cities in Argentina have passed measures restricting glyphosate use.

Australia: Numerous municipalities and school districts throughout the country are currently testing alternative herbicides in an effort to curtail or eliminate glyphosate use. Many use steam technology for weed control on streets and in other public areas.

Belgium: Banned the individual use of glyphosate. In 2017, Belgium voted against relicensing glyphosate in the EU. The country was also one of six EU member states to sign a letter to the EU Commission calling for “an exit plan for glyphosate…” The city of Brussels banned the use of glyphosate within its territory as part of its “zero pesticides” policy.

Bermuda: Outlawed private and commercial sale of all glyphosate-based herbicides. In 2017, the government relaxed its ban on glyphosate, allowing the Department of Environment and Natural Resources to import restricted concentrations of glyphosate for managing roadside weed overgrowth.

Brazil: In August of 2018, a federal judge in Brasilia ruled that new products containing glyphosate could not be registered in the country. Existing regulations concerning glyphosate were also suspended, pending a reevaluation of toxicological data by Anvisa, the country’s health agency.

In September of 2018, a Brazilian court overturned the federal judge’s ruling. September marks Brazil’s first month of soybean planting. The country is the largest exporter of soybeans in the world, and as such, has become heavily reliant on agrochemicals. Anvisa issued a statement following the court’s decision to overturn the ruling, saying it will take necessary legal and technical steps in response. Further, Brazil’s Solicitor General’s office has said it is preparing an appeal to the court decision with support from the Agriculture Ministry.

Brazil’s health agency concluded a re-evaluation of glyphosate in February of 2019. Based on the agency’s findings, a blanket ban on glyphosate in Brazil is unlikely.

Canada: Eight out of the 10 provinces in Canada have some form of restriction on the use of non-essential cosmetic pesticides, including glyphosate. Vancouver has banned the public and private use of glyphosate, aside from the treatment of invasive weeds.

Colombia: In 2015, Colombia outlawed the use of glyphosate to destroy illegal plantations of coca, the raw ingredient for cocaine, out of concern that glyphosate causes cancer. In March of 2019, President Ivan Duque asked for the judicial ban on aerial glyphosate spraying to be lifted.

Czech Republic: Agriculture Minister Miroslav Toman said the country will limit glyphosate use starting in 2019. Specifically, the Czech Republic will ban glyphosate as a weedkiller and drying agent.

Denmark: The Danish Working Environment Authority declared glyphosate to be carcinogenic and has recommended a change to less toxic chemicals. Aalborg, one of the largest cities in Denmark, issued a private-use glyphosate ban in September of 2017. In July of 2018, the Danish government implemented new rules banning the use of glyphosate on all post-emergent crops to avoid residues on foods.

El Salvador: In 2013, the country adopted a law banning glyphosate over links to deadly kidney disease. However, by 2016, the legislation appeared to stall.

France: In November of 2017, President Emmanuel Macron announced that France would issue an outright ban on glyphosate within the next three years. Macron later backtracked, saying a blanket ban within the time frame would not be possible. Instead, France is committed to banning glyphosate for 85% of use. French authorities banned the sale, distribution, and use of Roundup 360 in early 2019.

Germany: According to Environment Minister Svenja Schulze, Germany plans to update its conditions for pesticide approval and will seek an end date for glyphosate use. Certain retail stores in Germany have also pulled glyphosate-based herbicides like Roundup from shelves.

Greece: Greece was one of nine EU countries to vote against relicensing glyphosate in November of 2017. The country was also one of six EU member states to sign a 2018 letter to the European Commission calling for “an exit plan for glyphosate…” According to the Greek Minister of Agricultural Development Evangelos Apostolou, “[i]t is our duty to push in the direction of risk management, in the interests of consumers, producers, and the environment.” In March of 2018, the Greek government approved a five-year license for Monsanto’s Roundup against the wishes of Greek environmentalists.

India: In October of 2018, the government of Punjab banned the sale of glyphosate in the state. “All pesticide manufacturers, marketers and dealers in the State shall not sell glyphosate formulations-concentrations with immediate effect. The licensing authorities have been asked to take necessary steps for removal of entries for glyphosate from the licenses issued by them,” said State Agriculture Secretary K.S. Pannu. In February of 2019, the Indian state of Kerala issued a ban on the sale, distribution and use of glyphosate.

Italy: Italy’s Ministry of Health placed a number of restrictions on glyphosate use. Italian legislators have also raised concerns about glyphosate safety, and have come out against relicensing the herbicide in the European Union. In 2016, the Italian government banned the use of glyphosate as a pre-harvest treatment and placed restrictions on glyphosate use in areas frequented by the public. In November of 2017, Italy was one of seven EU nations to vote against relicensing glyphosate.

Luxembourg: One of Luxembourg’s largest supermarket chains removed glyphosate from its shelves following the release of the IARC glyphosate report. Luxembourg was one of nine EU countries to vote against relicensing glyphosate in November of 2017, and in early 2018, the country signed a letter to the EU Commission calling for “an exit plan for glyphosate…“

Malta: Malta began the process of instituting countrywide ban of glyphosate. However, Environment Minister José Herrera backtracked in January of 2017, saying the country would continue to oppose glyphosate in discussions but would fall in line with the European Union and wait for further studies. In November of 2017, Malta was one of nine EU countries to vote against relicensing glyphosate. The country also signed a letter to the EU Commission in 2018 calling for “an exit plan for glyphosate…“

Netherlands: Banned all non-commercial use of glyphosate.

New Zealand: The cities of Auckland and Christchurch passed resolutions to reduce the usage of chemicals for weed and pest control in public places. The Physicians and Scientists for Global Responsibility, a New Zealand charitable trust, called for a glyphosate ban in 2015.

Portugal: Prohibits the use of glyphosate in all public spaces. The president of the Portuguese Medical Association has also called for a worldwide ban of glyphosate.

Scotland: Aberdeen cut back its use of herbicides and Edinburgh’s City Council voted to phase out glyphosate. In November of 2017, five of Scotland’s six EU parliamentarians voted in favor of a motion that would phase out glyphosate by 2022.

Slovenia: Slovenia was one of six EU member states to sign a 2018 letter to the European Commission citing “concerns” about the risks associated with glyphosate. The letter called upon the Commission to introduce “an exit plan for glyphosate…”

Spain: According to Kistiñe Garcia of the Spanish NGO, Ecologistas en Acción, Barcelona, Madrid, Zaragoza and the region of Extremuda have decided to ban glyphosate. The regions of La Rioja (major Spanish wine region) and Aragon have also approved motions against endocrine disrupting chemicals, which includes glyphosate.

Sri Lanka: Sri Lanka was the first country to issue a nationwide ban on glyphosate. However, in 2018, the government decided to lift the ban due to crop losses and overgrowing weeds.

Sweden: Raised concerns about glyphosate safety and has pushed against relicensing the herbicide in the EU. In 2017, the Swedish Chemicals Agency (SCA) announced it was planning to tighten rules on private use of plant protection products. Under the plan, private users would only be allowed to use products containing “low-risk substances.” According to the SCA, glyphosate is an example of an active substance not expected to be included among low-risk substances, meaning in due time, private consumers may not be permitted to use herbicides containing glyphosate.

Switzerland: Concerned about public wellbeing, the Swiss supermarket chains Migros and Coop removed glyphosate-based products from their shelves due to health risks. In 2017, the Green party put forth a plan to ban glyphosate in Switzerland. The proposed plan was rejected by the Federal Council, Switzerland’s executive.

United Kingdom: Following the landmark $289 million Monsanto Roundup verdict on Aug. 10, 2018, Homebase, one of the UK’s largest DIY retailers, announced that it would review the sale of Roundup and Ranger Pro. A number of townships, including Brighton, Frensham, Hammersmith & Fulham, Bristol, Glastonbury, Frome, North Somerset, Trafford, Lewes and Wadebridge have also voted to institute restrictions on pesticides and herbicides, including glyphosate.

The London Borough of Croydon announced at the end of 2018 that it will stop using glyphosate for grounds maintenance.

In March of 2019, Derry City in Northern Ireland issued an order to cease using glyphosate.

Vietnam: Following the jury verdict in Hardeman v. Monsanto Co., Vietnam announced that it would ban glyphosate imports. According to Hoang Trung, Director of the Plant Protection Department under the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development.

U.S. Cities to Restrict or Ban Glyphosate

Arizona

Tucson, Arizona – Created an organics-first policy for controlling weeds on city property.

California

Arcata, California – Initiated a pesticide reduction plan that urges pesticides to only be used as a last resort.

Belvedere, California – Passed municipal ordinance initiating Integrated Pest Management program that restricts toxic pesticide use and urges pesticide use as last resort.

Benicia, California – City decided to go glyphosate-free following the verdict in Johnson v. Monsanto Co.

Berkeley, California – Implemented pest management program to minimize or eliminate the use of pesticides.

Burbank, California – City Council members voted to discontinue the use of Roundup in city parks for one year, and Burbank Unified School District will no longer use the herbicide due to cancer concerns.

Carlsbad, California – The City Council voted unanimously to adopt a policy that makes organic pesticides the preferred method for killing weeds. “Asked to choose between aesthetics and public health…I’m going to choose public health every time,” said Councilwoman Cori Schumacher.

Corte Madera, California – Passed ordinance calling for Integrated Pest Management (IPM) program restricting highly toxic pesticides, while also urging for pesticide use to be a last resort.

Davis, California – Passed ordinance implementing Integrated Pest Management (IPM) program designed to reduce the use of pesticides. Some city parks do not allow the use of glyphosate.

Encinitas, California – Banned the use of Roundup and other glyphosate-based weed killers in city parks.

Fairfax, California – Passed municipal ordinance restricting use of toxic pesticides on public property in favor of alternative methods.

Fresno, California – After hearing from concerned parents and employees, Fresno Unified School District is investigating the use of alternative herbicides that do not contain glyphosate, citing health risks.

Irvine, California – City Council passed resolution to cease spraying Roundup and other chemicals on public parks, streets and playgrounds.

Laguna Hills, California – Passed a resolution to test an organics-only pesticide program on two parks.

Lodi, California –The city decided to ban the use of Roundup within 25 feet of playgrounds.

Long Beach, California – Citing the landmark $289 million verdict in Johnson v. Monsanto Co., Long Beach Parks & Recreation Director Gerardo Mouet announced an immediate halt on the spraying of Roundup in Long Beach Parks.

Los Angeles County, California – The Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors issued a moratorium on glyphosate-based herbicides, including Roundup weed killer.

Malibu, California – The city may implement an Earth Friendly Management Policy (EFMP) to avoid the use of pesticides and other chemicals.

Marin County, California – The county stopped using glyphosate, the active ingredient in Monsanto’s Roundup weed killer, on all county-maintained parks, landscaping, playgrounds, walkways and parking areas.

Mill Valley, California – Passed ordinance initiating Integrated Pest Management program that restricts toxic pesticide use and urges pesticide use as last resort.Gly

Napa, California – A policy announced in March of 2019 banned glyphosate use on city property, completing a phase-out campaign that started three years ago.

Novato, California – Following the $289 million Monsanto verdict, Novato Mayor Josh Fryday said the city will no longer use Roundup weed killer.

Oakland, California – Passed ordinance initiating Integrated Pest Management program that restricts toxic pesticide use and promotes pesticide use as last resort. On Sept. 1, 2018, the city formally halted the use of Roundup. Alameda County is reviewing its chemical spraying practices.

Palo Alto, California – Pest management program calls for Integrated Pest Management that restricts pesticide use in favor of less harmful methods.

Petaluma, California – City officials are considering a ban on glyphosate for use in public parks.

Richmond, California – Issued an ordinance to ban the use of glyphosate for all weed abatement activities conducted by the city.

San Anselmo, California – Passed city resolution promoting an Integrated Pest Management program restricting the use of toxic pesticides. The program only allows pesticide use as a last resort.

San Francisco, California – Restricts the use of toxic pesticides on public property in favor of alternative, organic methods.

San Juan Capistrano, California – Implemented an organics-first policy to control weeds in city parks and open spaces.

San Lorenzo Valley, California – The San Lorenzo Valley Water District voted 4-1 for a permanent ban of glyphosate pesticide use by the district.

Santa Rosa, California – Banned the use of Roundup at city parks.

Sonoma, California – The Sonoma City Council voted to ban the use of glyphosate in all city parks.

Thousand Oaks, California – City instituted a ban on glyphosate use on public golf courses.

Woodland, California – Woodland Joint Unified School District suspended the use of Roundup on school campuses.

Colorado

Boulder, Colorado – Banned Roundup for use on city parks.

Durango, Colorado – Instituted an Organically Managed Lands program to minimize the use of synthetic fertilizers and pesticides.

Connecticut

Middletown, Connecticut – Passed ordinance banning toxic pesticides and herbicides on municipally-owned fields, parks and other property.

A growing number of Connecticut towns, including Branford, Cheshire, Granby, Essex, Greenwich, Manchester, Oxford, Plainville, Roxbury, Watertown, and Woodbridge have adopted bans or restrictions on glyphosate use. The state also has Public Act 09-56 to eliminate the use pesticides in K-8 schools.

Florida

The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission ceased using aquatic herbicides, glyphosate chief among them, anywhere in state waters, while the agency gathers public input.

Miami, Florida – Announced a city-wide ban on glyphosate-based herbicides in February of 2019.

Miami Beach, Florida – Passed a resolution banning the use of glyphosate weed killers for landscaping and maintenance work on city-owned property.

North Miami, Florida – City Council approved a plan calling for the gradual reduction of pesticide use on city property and a study on alternative pesticides.

Stuart, Florida – City commissioners voted to ban glyphosate, calling for an integrated pest control plan that reduces the use of glyphosate with the ultimate goal of eliminating chemicals.

Hawaii

In February of 2018, a series of bills moved ahead in the legislature that would regulate pesticides, including Roundup weed killer.

Illinois

Chicago, Illinois – The city stopped spraying glyphosate in public spaces.

Evanston, Illinois – Evanston decided to go pesticide-free in 2010. Glyphosate is banned from use on city property, parks and schools.

Franklin Park, Illinois – Passed resolution promoting an Integrated Pest Management (IPM) policy that restricts highly toxic pesticides and urges for pesticides to be considered as a last resort.

Naperville, Illinois – Created the Sustainable Parks Initiative, which uses organic products and sustainable practices for weed control.

Urbana, Illinois – Adopted the Midwest Grows Green natural lawn care initiative to eliminate synthetic lawn pesticides on city parks.

Iowa

Dubuque, Iowa – City instituted a ban on glyphosate use in public parks.

Story County, Iowa – Eliminated the use of chemical pesticides in six of its mowed turf areas.

Kansas

Lawrence, Kansas – Implemented Integrated Pest Management (IPM) program designed to reduce pesticide use.

Wichita, Kansas – Initiated pilot program that limits or eliminates pesticide use.

Maine

Dozens of cities and townships in Maine have adopted local ordinances restricting or banning pesticides and herbicides.

Portland, Maine – Banned synthetic pesticides in March of 2019. Private property owners may only use organic treatments on lawns and gardens. No pesticides may be used within 75 feet of a water body or wetland.

South Portland, Maine – Passed a pesticide plan that discourages property owners from using certain pesticides and herbicides.

Maryland

Greenbelt, Maryland – Adopted Sustainable Land Care policy for public lands calling for limited use of pesticides.

Hyattsville, Maryland – Passed ordinance prohibiting the use of toxic pesticides on public property in favor of alternative, organic methods

Montgomery County, Maryland – County Council voted to ban the use of cosmetic pesticides on private lawns. In December 2018, Montgomery County Parks announced that it would discontinue the use of glyphosate in parks.

Takoma Park, Maryland – Placed restriction on cosmetic pesticides for lawn care on public and private property.

Massachusetts

Chatham, Massachusetts – Passed an order banning glyphosate use in parks, athletic fields, mulch beds and walkways.

Eastham, Massachusetts – Local ordinance requires town employees to receive a permit for use of registered pesticides and prohibits the use of highly-toxic pesticides.

Marblehead, Massachusetts – Created Organic Pest Management program to phase out pesticides and herbicides.

Warwick, Massachusetts – A measure to ban Monsanto’s Roundup passed at a Special Town Meeting. The ban does not allow people to spray glyphosate on any land within the town.

Wellesley, Massachusetts – Wellesley banned all pesticides in 2011. Glyphosate is restricted from being sprayed on athletic fields and any city-owned property. The chemical can be used in limited emergency weed control situations.

Minnesota

Minneapolis, Minnesota – Commissioners of the Minneapolis Parks and Recreation Board decided to eliminate all glyphosate-based products from being used in neighborhood parks. In October of 2018, the Park Board’s Operations & Environment Committee voted to extend the glyphosate ban to the entire Minneapolis park system.

Rochester, Minnesota – The Parks & Recreation Department initiated a pesticide-free pilot project for city parks.

Nevada

Reno, Nevada – The city initiated a pesticide-free pilot program.

New Hampshire

Dover, New Hampshire – Passed resolution calling for Organic Land Management. The city utilizes the least toxic compounds only when necessary.

Portsmouth, New Hampshire – Passed resolution eliminating the use of toxic pesticides on public property in favor of alternative, organic methods.

New Mexico

Taos County, New Mexico – Taos County Commissioners are considering the possibility of banning all pesticides, including glyphosate.

New Jersey

New Jersey has State and local ordinances encouraging Integrated Pest Management programs to eliminate or drastically reduce the use of pesticides. At least 15 city school districts and over a dozen other parks and recreation departments in the state have enacted IPM programs.

New York

In January of 2019, New York State Senator Brad Hoylman (27th District) sponsored a bill in the New York State Senate that would prohibit the sale and distribution of products containing glyphosate. Updates on the legislation can be found here.

New York Park Recreation Department has measures to eliminate or reduce pesticide and herbicide use in areas under its control.

New Paltz, New York – The use of toxic pesticides and herbicides by city employees or by private contractors is forbidden on all city-owned lands.

Rockland County, New York – Created a Non-Toxic Pesticide program, mandating the use of natural, non-toxic, or as a last resort with prior approval, the least toxic pesticide use.

Westchester County, New York – Enacted a law for pesticide-free parks.

North Carolina

Carrboro, North Carolina – The city of Carrboro has restricted glyphosate use since 1999. Under the terms of the ban, glyphosate cannot be sprayed in public parks, schools and town buildings or properties. The city will only allow glyphosate to be sprayed under limited circumstances.

Ohio

Cuyahoga County, Ohio – Local ordinance prohibits the use of pesticides on county-owned land and established the adoption of an Integrated Pest Management program for county-owned properties.

South Euclid, Ohio – Passed ordinance prohibiting toxic pesticides on public grounds in favor of alternative, organic pest control methods unless permitted by an Environmental Review Board.

Oregon

Portland, Oregon – Since 1988, Portland has restricted the use of Roundup to emergency use only. Glyphosate is banned on all city-owned property.

Texas

Austin, Texas – City Council voted to prohibit the spraying of glyphosate on city lands.

Vermont

Multiple bills containing restrictions or bans on glyphosate have been introduced in the legislature.

Representative Mari Cordes introduced H. 301, which would ban the sale, use or application of the herbicide glyphosate.

Representative Annmarie Christensen introduced H. 328, an act relating to the use of glyphosate herbicide.

Virginia

Charlottesville, Virginia – Restricts the use of glyphosate on any city-owned parks, schools, or buildings. Glyphosate can only be sprayed under limited circumstances.

Washington

King County, Washington – Passed municipal ordinance initiating an Integrative Pest Management (IPM) program to determine if and how pesticides should be used.

Olympia, Washington – City passed a resolution to encourage the implementation of an Integrative Pest Management (IPM) program for non-chemical pest control.

Thurston County, Washington –Passed municipal ordinance to restrict the use of toxic pesticides on public property.

Monsanto now owned by Bayer is hiring a few good lying murderous bastards.

#glyphospahte #monsanto #bayer #cancer

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