#histoty

[babyfoxcollectionthings]

[silver-san-arts]

On this day in 1989, the largest coup to hit the Philippines occurred. For seven days, the National Capital Region became a battlefield, as thousands of rebellious military personnel tried to take power.

Depicted is a member of CAPCOM during the clearing operation at Santa Mesa.

[scotianostra]

March 17th 1979 saw a collapse in the Penmanshiel Tunnel near Grantshouse  Berwickshire, in the Scottish Borders, two men tragically lost their lives.

Shortly before 3:45 a.m. on 17 March 1979, the duty Railway Works Inspector noticed some small pieces of rock flaking away from the tunnel wall, approximately 90 metres from the southern entrance,  He decided that it would be wise to shore up the affected piece of the tunnel and was making his way towards the site office to arrange this when he heard the sound of the tunnel collapsing behind him.

It is estimated that approximately 20 metres of the tunnel arch collapsed, with the resultant rock fall filling 30 metres of the tunnel from floor to roof and totally enveloping a dumper truck and a JCB, along with the two men operating them. Despite efforts to get to the men further falling rock prevented this.

The thirteen other people working inside the tunnel at the time of the collapse were able to escape successfully, but despite the efforts of rescuers (including a specialised mine rescue team) it was not possible to reach the two operators.

What must be more heart-breaking for the families of the two men, Gordon Turnbull and Peter Fowler is that it was deemed too dangerous to try and recover the bodies and the tunnel was sealed and abandoned their remains left buried where they perished. 

A report into the collapse could not reach a conclusion on the overall cause due to the abandonment. However, geotechnical investigations of the area surrounding the tunnel found evidence suggesting fracturing of rock overlaying the tunnel and, in particular, an anticlinal structure of shattered and sheared rock intersecting the line of the tunnel in close proximity to the area of the collapse.

The report accordingly concluded that the collapse was likely to be the result of degeneration of the fractured rock overlying the tunnel in the end it stated that as the conditions leading to the collapse could not reasonably be foreseen—there were no grounds for finding any individual responsible for the accident.

Despite the enquiry findings British Railways were fined £10,000  "having failed to ensure that persons in the tunnel were not exposed to the risk of personal injury by the collapse of part of the [tunnel] structure", they did not contest the case pleading guilty to the charges.

A  memorial stands directly over the point of the rock fall in tribute to Gordon and Peter, the 3-sided Obelisk bares a plaque dedicated to each of the men, and the 3rd side bares the cross, with the memorial constructed from rock that had fallen that night.

Afterwards the east coast rail line was diverted, a cutting was made, which also meant the A1 road nearby had to be diverted

[mentisflatus]

JOSE RIZAL for Philippine Mythopoeia Book 📖

[protoslacker]

Starting with the Indian Civilization Act of 1819, the US enacted laws and policies to establish and support Indian boarding schools across the country. For more than 150 years, Indigenous children were taken from their communities and forced into boarding schools that focused on assimilation.

Guardian staff and agencies in The Guardian. US to investigate ‘unspoken traumas’ of Native American boarding schools

Deb Haaland announces initiative to ‘uncover the truth’ of policies that forced Indigenous children to assimilate

[artbysvz]

When I was a kid  I used to think that Adults had all the answers and that they were all knowing benevolent beings that were there to guide the small people. I did not understand that Adults were just children half conscience to their actions and all that goes on within them no different to that of a child. They had just lived longer and knew more useless stuff. Adults were worse than children as they were subjectively vomiting their fears onto all those around them and claiming the wounded sheep for their ignorance. It was as if, looking back that they were lost and looking for something that wasn’t there.   In my personal understanding as a child. Adults were not subject to fear, segregation, evil thoughts of one another or little people no matter the colour or size. Adults to me I believed had done the work and as such were there to pass on the knowledge. They were beings of Gods light who did not possess anger, jealousy, hatred, sexual dis-ease, greed, selfishness and so on. For reasons I know not, I felt deep down in me that they were to be light/love givers. I found out very quickly despite my resistance to accept it that they were and are not such beings. And that If I was going to learn anything it would be I who would need to teach them. Not the other way round for they had lost sight of themselves and the love within them. I could never understand how an grown being could hurt a child. How a grown being could rape a child, how a grown being could subject a child to such cruelty as to put that child in an anguished internal flux of pain and suffering and misunderstanding and confusion. I could not understand how an elder who talked of God and Angels and right and wrong, of respect and place could over step all these within themselves and towards all those around them too. What did this mean? who were these elders because they were not the ones I knew. they were not the ones I had been with and also why was I here with them because they don’t seem to like me?  It took me may years to learn the truth of things because for me, my knowing that there was good and innocence in all kept being tested to the edge of my acceptance. To the edge of what I dared to accept. If I am a pure soul who knows of only love and that love is the key to the universe and that there is no other force in the world stronger. Then they cannot be bad and they must be good, Right? If though my own abuses and witnessing of abuse I remained within my centre knowing that we must not harm each other. then surly they will see this too? I knew then that I wanted to help them to see that love and healing was the only truth.  I remember one day in my pain and sorrow for the pain and torture I was facing I was crying. I think I was 10. I had been bullied at school for having a facial abnormality in my skin which I many years later found out is called Melanoma. My family were as always cold to me and my constant bulling at school. They would call me albino and kick me, tease me, hit me. I was different. I already had no self confidence because of the abuse at home. I was a walking target for other abused kids. This was very common in my time. While I sat on my bed I was crying but not out of sorry or out of self pity. I remember crying at the knowledge I held within me and what I knew and could see when I closed my eyes. I was aware of a light that was very much alive and more alive and powerful than anything in existence. I knew that I was a beacon of this light and that I was here to shine this light so intensely that it would heal many. I was acutely aware that I am love. I am the embodiment of Gods love and it doesn’t flow though me I was this love. that it resonated from my heart but all of me was this force of powerful healing love. I cried because I could feel it pulsating within me. I could see it when I closed my eyes. I remember thinking that I love God but I did not understand who Jesus was and why people called him the one true god. I could not understand how people could say that he was the all merciful saviour and all forgiving and yet he was the punisher who sent people to hell. What was this hell? what did hell mean? Was it a place? Why would God say he loves you and then send you there? To me this was a reflection of my parents as they too did the same. Who could I trust, who could I talk to because it was clear to me that in talking to anyone, you were punished. I was told that I was loved and yet I was constantly picked on and abused out of the 5 children. I was the only one. I was constantly told that I was not wanted and that there was something wrong with me. This to me was like this God, this Jesus who said he loved his children but send them to hell. To me I could not understand the limitation of love. I could not understand why there was a condition and what seemed to me to be a feeling of - If I feel like It I will love you and if I don’t then you are no good to me. So as a child I tried my hardest to keep out of the way . This wasn’t always easy when you were the subject of blame and all manner of things made up. I remember lying in my bed and listening to my mum talk to my step father about the events of the children for the day. I remember this would always terrify me because she would make stuff up. Fabricate the extremity of things only I had done in order that I got a good “handling ” the next day. And these “handlings” were in the name of God. They would involve anything from being taken by the arm and yanked like a rag doll from the room to the shower in the flat. With all my clothes on and thrown into the ice cold shower where I was to repent for the actions of my disgusting child ways. I remember I was 6 as my tiny sister was not long born. I feared showers insanely until I did my best to over come them at the age of 15. Still to this day I prefer a bath. After this shower incident I was made to stand on one leg and recount why I was being punished and explain why it was necessary to punish me so. Then I would also have to write out the lords prier or the Hale Mary 50 to 100 times. I remember thinking…. why can I not be loved like my sister.  Why am I recounting this to you? because I believe that it is important for us to stand in front of the pain of the past. All to often in life we get confused. Life has so much going on and is very demanding in all the directions that it pulls us in. We can make life very difficult for our selves in the affliction’s of the moments we find ourselves in. All to often we don’t just have one thing to manage or deal with but multiple things that become a tornado of mixed up situations and feelings. It is not until we put these things into perspective and order that we are able to correctly deal with them. And by doing so we prevent ourselves from harming those around us. We project 98% of the time onto each other from an inner level and we are for the most part unconscious from when or where these projections came. They are not you they are the wounded you defending yourself and reacting in an attempt to deny the situation unto your inner self and feelings our of fear. 

[elladastinkardiamou]

An Ode to Santorini's Silent Workers: The Donkeys and Mules that Built Greece's Paradise

There is no excuse for animal abuse, exploitation or cruelty. Let’s just state that up front, so there is no confusion about the fundamental principles of belief that we should all support in our societies worldwide.

There is, however, context and perspective, which require consideration when we pass judgement on the situations and activities of others. Assessing a situation based on our own personal beliefs, or even those of our peers and people with similar views to ours, is myopic at best and extremely dangerous at worst.

The current frenzy of articles about animal abuse, and in particular donkeys and mules on Santorini, is a classic example of a social media storm that is nearing “escape velocity” and has orbited the world virally within minutes… which is exactly what those that planned this campaign wanted to achieve.

Most such articles are ill-informed, and inaccurate at best — and are outrageously false at worst, contrived, disingenuous and written with almost zero regard to context or historical relevance.

They are mostly promotional vehicles for a number of often obscure groups whose name would never see the light of day if they didn’t attach it to a destination, an animal, an event, or a country that is of global interest, especially on social media.

They plan the taping of the so-called animal-abuse, and then feed it to various social media platforms. From there, the media hunger for populist content kicks in, and the feeding frenzy begins.

The following is not an attempt to excuse those who mistreat or abuse animals — any animals — but rather some background and context on how and why mules and donkeys have played such a pivotal role in the development of the Aegean island that the world has come to know as Santorini.

[zageekyunicorn]

A Servant’s Dream Ch 2 “Atemu Son of Mehmet”

 ​

Images are not mine but the story is mine.

It wasn't long when I saw someone coming; I stood up and saw none other than the pharaoh’s son walk up to me. I collapsed on my knees and greeted the heir to the throne. I stayed down until I felt a hand on my chin pulling me up until I faced the pharaoh’s son. “Please, you don’t have to do any of that with me,” he flashed a genuine smile that caused my face to burn red as the cinders in the fire. “It was that I am supposed to do; it is a sign of respect, my lord,” I said while looking at the marble floor. “I’m not pharaoh yet, so you can at least look at me,” he said but I told him that I cannot, and how could I! Again, I felt his hands touch my chin and pull my head up until my light brown eyes met his hazel ones, “See, that wasn’t too bad.” He smiled as I tried to look at something else instead of his beautiful eyes, “Tell me, what is your name?” “It is Mira… my lord,” I replied. The heir looked like he was pondering a bit before smiling widely, showing off his pearl white teeth, “I like the name.” He laughed before letting go of my chin. “I’m Atemu, son of Mehmet,” he said as I giggled softy. “What’s so funny?” He asked. Afraid that I might have offended him I quickly collapsed on my knees with my head on the cold floor apologizing for my actions. “You really need to stop doing this. Don’t make me order you to stop, I don’t like ordering people,” he said as he knelt down and helped me up as I stared confusingly at him, but before I could say something, I heard my name being called by my master. “Excuse me, my lord.” I bowed before running towards my master, afraid if he might beat me for being late or if he saw me talking with the pharaoh’s son. His son, he seemed different, but very handsome. The weird part is that he touched me and talked with me. That never happens with servants – maybe he didn’t know that I was one. “Yes, master,” I said trying to catch my breath from the long run. “We are leaving; carry my cloak and let’s go.” I walked hastily to grab his coat before it could touch the ground but suddenly I tripped and fell on my master, all in front of the pharaoh’s eyes. My eyes were wide as I prayed to Ra that he might go easy on me at least this once, but I was asking for too much apparently. He pushed me off before I had the chance to jump up; he walked up towards my body. “You low life little girl! You deserve to be tortured to death! Why I even have taken you I don’t know! No wonder your family died, they probably wanted to be far away from you and death was the only way. Now you’ll join them!” My master raised his fist to beat me as I didn't flinch or do anything except close my eyes as a tear escaped and made contact with the ground. I felt the first punch hard against my stomach which made me yelp in pain and spit out some of my saliva on the floor; but when the second punch was going to be blown I didn't feel it. I heard yells from a familiar voice before I noticed guards come and take my master away. My stomach hurt a lot but I was thankful that it only stopped there and not more; I felt my body being lifted before a voice asked if I was alright or not. “I’m okay…” I whispered trying not to cry from the pain. “Don’t worry Mira, that scum will never hurt you again.” I heard the pharaoh’s son speak before the darkness overpowered me.

Chapter 3: https://zageekyunicorn.tumblr.com/post/184615662511/a-servants-dream-ch-3-working-in-the-palace