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thanidiel · 4 months

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A Visit to Skaven

“What is this, Sai?” came out in a tight voice, her want to laugh only barely suppressed as the, at the time, young woman’s hand brushed over the strangely inefficient clothesline: tied to a second stake no less than five inches away from where the first line had already anchored around another post.

It was the sort of nonsensical, mundane, detail that a hundred people could walk by without a thought paid. Which then made it perfectly ‘Sayidra’, who always functioned even now it seems at a mundanely nonsensical level. Perhaps, terrifyingly, moreso now that she is completely non beholden to anyone, or any sort of communal responsibility.

And quite like the Redguard herself, so much so as to suddenly make this moment timeless, she responded by jutting her chin high in the air - not as though she had taken some offense to the remark and thus needed to draw herself up and fill her chest with air. But, rather, she simply did not see anything wrong with her innovation.

So, she jut up her chin and the Redguard proclaimed firmly, “The rope was too short.”

There was never much room to ‘debate’ Sayidra on these things; she used to chop down potatoes and yuca into logs because it was the most straightforward way to process the vegetable. And when the Tumnosh twins, exasperated, had dropped themselves to the floor and gone to show her how their hearthwife and sisters would scrape off the skin with a spoon than to discard so much food for scrap, she had harrumphed and said she was to wash the dishes after the tubers. So how could she procure her own spoon?

Verita had wondered vaguely in the back of her mind as she journeyed here, on if Sayidra had modified her uncompromising order of operations at all now that she was buying her own food, with her own coin.

Right now, the odds did not look good.

“You have rope lying all around, why not just swap it?” This was a foregone sort of exchange without much hope to its name. But there was a charm to this routine, regardless. It made her think to when her legs felt so foal-like, and her hair felt so frizzy, and her mind so flustered.

“It was already tied.” Ergo, she resolved the immediate problem at the time. If the rope is too short, simply add another stick. To her older comrade, there was often no preplanning or perfect item for the task. It was only the items in front of her eye that progressed her to the next step. This sort of conversation often wisped by her ears between Sayidra and the others of the Dunehound.

And in a way, that ambient sort of hardheadness and desire to think only on moving forward, made her friendship, the consideration Sayidra had always paid to her on virtue of nothing else than Verita’s breathing life, a deeply intimate and unforgettable affair.

“Fair enough,” conceded. Though as she bent to finally acknowledge the pup that had been trundling after her heels since she arrived, with flattened hands that pat and rubbed along the flanks of its body, the Imperial found she could not help but to add further, “...aren’t you worried about cluttering up the yard?”

“Ongo sen tukta?” questioned back as Sayidra had moved at this point across the stone walkway towards the door. “This is my home,” reverted back to Cyrodilic after that peppering that their crew was once so fond of. “I hope to entertain no one except you and perhaps my brother’s family from here on out.”

“Not Hakeesh or Sahiri?” Most of everyone got along. But if anyone else could call themselves a friend of the older woman, it was those two. There were many a night in those days where everyone would filter out of the galley with their dinners in hand, and Sayidra would creep and slow until the last souls had turned their backs. She would settle somewhere in that scant space and solitary Hakeesh, too, of Skaven would be heard. And it was an even more known, common, sight for the Alfiq to grow bored of her inventorying and make her way to Sayidra to chatter, and chatter, and chatter, while the Redguard worked as steadily as ever.

That made her friend laugh while she, herself, had eventually risen from the ground and made her way towards the aroma of rich meat roasting in spices now freed by the wide-open door. “Hakeesh has grandchildren to harry him in his kitchen now, and I don’t think Sahiri can bring herself to travel without the Dunehound.”

“Remember when that zhazza in Wayrest tried to pick her up?”

“...yes,” and though the other woman had not nearly the same humor as Verita, for once her smile opened in a broad display of those coffee-stained teeth, “His goat-shriek still warms this heart of mine.”

These sorts of moments always came soaring on pretty little wings, free and fluttering with its momentum, “Bogrum was fucking enraged even when we all got back.” But, of course, when the weight caught up to it - that fragile thing could never have held up. “...I was so glad Jhareem and Erissalie were there,” continued on with a sudden quietness that changed the words entirely to I miss them, do you miss them?

And that sobered the other as she wrested free mutton from the coals, and scraped off flatbread stuck to the inside of the oven. Which, as suddenly as Verita had lost her loud voice, suddenly made her feel very selfish, and very oafish. A tight and braided twist of feeling through feeling within her gut, and she wanted to be very small then. So she meekly found the table, sat down, and clasped her hands together.

Of course Sayidra misses them too. How could she not miss a lover and a friend? If anything, she probably longs for this man that will never make and share a home with her, will never grey and grow fat with her, will never be here with her, every day. She didn’t need it rubbed into her face by someone else that will never know that same grief.

It made her simply feel worse, and yet more loved than ever, that the Redguard was now brushing her hand through hair much looser than the multitudes of thin, wiry, coils of her own after the meal had been placed down in front of the Imperial.

“Eat, child,” moved right on, stepped right on, continued right on in that so-timeless way of Sayidra’s. Grief, was also a matter of moving forward for the Redguard. No time to dawdle and cry, no purpose to be found within. The motherly run of callused fingers, with fine sand and ash pocketed within the lines of dark skin and pink palms, brought her back just briefly to a time less wondrous. Though mostly that hand just dug up another conflicted lurch of frustration, then self-criticism.

She wanted the older woman to talk. Talk, in this context, being a broad and shapeless idea that held the conveniently transformative weight of an emotional tornado. Which meant that she actually wanted her to cry, which actually meant that she wanted more comfort, or actually she wanted to be frankly coddled, which all actually stood for I WANT YOU TO GRIEVE LIKE ME. Or rather, actually, for her. Please, grieve for her, too, Sayidra.

She wished that the world would stop and grieve for the days she still spent feeling just as top heavy as a tree about to snap in twain. That cursed weight of deep loss, of so many moving forces of her life all redirected in a shiver of fate, bearing down on her neck to where that, if nothing else, showed the distinctive identities of body and soul.

For how is it that her body could have mustered a breath at all, when everything else had sagged so sadly as to waste away?

“...I wanted to show you and Jhareem this for years, whipped garlic. It was always too troublesome before,” muttered on as Sayidra spooned into a squat vessel and generously dolloped several mouthfuls of the spread atop tender goat’s meat. And in the Redguard’s way, that meant I see you. I’m sad too. Come with me.

That was where things went inward again, the silent whispers of I’m stupid. How could I be so stupid? How else could she ever respond to a loved one’s concession? Pop, pop, pop-- there her thoughts sizzled in that lick of shame. You’re so selfish, when did you get so selfish? Mistakes simply loved to burn themselves out at the front of her belly.

Just be graceful, the churn of her guts told her.

So she tried a smile, there. It was tentative, and fake, and almost nervous to be here, but it was heartening too in its own way. The resolution to have made herself just smile, also came with the creaking momentum of wheels slowly starting to move again, and slough off the sticky muck that had snared it.

“Remember,” begins again. Quiet and almost rasping as she found her voice again, “When Erissalie first came, and she lost her mind at Hakeesh for serving garlic to the Khajiit?” That added a sprouting touch of sincerity to her smile; their dear friend was so foolishly outspoken with the way she let her heart lead so readily.

Her pack was still slung on her back, so she had freed it with a slump towards her hip that brought it gently thudding onto the seat next her. And then because the very sight of the plate afore her was too tempting, she saw about pinching off some of the flatbread and using it to pocket the delicate meat afore her. She’d meant to procure her usual offering to the Redguard— when did Sayidra’s skin start to thin and line like that? It shouldn’t have been long ago, but yet— but her own hunger always liked to tumble over itself all of a sudden. Inattentive until the compulsion ached ravenously through her belly and pushed up behind her ribs regardless of anything else rumbling in her blood.

So then it became another pinch, and another, and then all pretense to an already rude affair vanished entirely as the pinches soon changed to torn sections, flaked meat and garlic smeared like debris across a ship’s bow. She would have been more careful if this had occurred before someone less familiar (thankfully she, like most women, simply grew more elegant of hand as she aged from here). But Verita didn’t need to, so she ate just as she needed, chin tucked and eyes only occasionally tracking her taller comrade.

“She questioned me some months after that on if it hurt,” exchanged. Bluntly, exasperatedly, that sort of distaste rolling around her frank and heavy mouth that you reserve only for friends. That hurt again, like the faucet had to gush one more time even though the pipe was already closed up. Mostly because her lightness was already this wobbling little bird righting itself from the ground, and continuing the conversation felt like as if the young Imperial had righted the plumbing only to get called back and asked if she added any clay, if she examined the weakness proper, could she account for how long that would handle? Sometimes she felt stupid for other reasons than solely her tenderness. She started to feel stupid then because she was so quick to convince herself that she already fluttered up from the prior falter. Because she wanted to convince herself and like how those of only twenty-five summers do, she tried to convince herself in that moment with a chipper and false retelling of her feelings. A lie that was so dull it only lasted less than ten seconds.

Shame hissed in another lurching boil of her gut. If the last bout were like little licks tickling her skin, this felt like she was being held right over the flame. And before it’d leave her in peace to cook in it, it’d rip all the water out of her and make her curl up in this gristly little band of displeasing meat if shame had things its way.

Just be graceful. Just be graceful. Just be graceful. You can’t change that they’re dead. It doesn’t help. Just be graceful. Please just be graceful. You can be graceful, old girl. She doesn’t need this from you.

This part of this old story was going to be a scrabble. The tears were frogging up below her chin and she needed to fuss and putter in any sort of way she could, before they could push any higher. Thinking was slowing down her escape.

Stop thinking. Just be graceful.

Generic response (as earnest as her squished little sense of befuddlement was at this time): “...if what hurt?” questioned. Appetite evaporated away at this point, not as insulated from the fire like the rest of her; her hands still playing at this aimless act of repetitively swishing soaked bread and meat to remake the diagram of garlicky lines on her plate.

Proudly, her friend replied with absolutely no cushioning or fanfare to the coming impact,

“Me and Jhareem.”

That sent the fragile little thing of her heart shrieking and aflutter, shooed away from where it had landed with its wobbly and flapping wings. Mixed up as it was, laughter bubbled out as much as her diaphragm began to spasm and hiccup with the surge of tears springing fat, wet, and dark, down shaking cheeks.

“—S-Sai, that’s so gross—”

I don’t want to be graceful.

#Verita #writing

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ivoiremelody · 2 months

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CASTRO MOI

Il est tellement difficile de trouver des éléments visules sur Bony Castro, Eugene Kpenegogou ou Tina Dakouri que lorsqu'on en trouve par le fruit du hasard , on ne peut que remercier le bon dieu. Et ce malgré l'état de la bande. En 2022, je suis tombé, durant mes recherches, sur une cassette UMATIC d'une émission du grand Zihiri Bony Castro qui datait de l'année 1981. En toute curiosite, je me suis empressé d'effectuer la numérateur de ce bijou. A ma grande surprise, les premières minutes de l'émission était pratiquement illisible. La bande avait été sérieusement corrompu par le temps.

3 ans après, avoir laisser la cassette se reposer, j'ai voulu encore une fois tenter le coup. Et Bingo ! Le repos fut réparateur. Voici les images des premières minutes qui apparaissait et devenait de plus en plus claire,,,,

Je dédie ces premiers minutes à l'un des plus grands artisan de notre culture Faustin Sahiri à qui j'avais donné la primeur de cet élément. Il s'agit du seul élément visuel sur Bony Castro

ON CONTINUE LES RECHERCHES

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kbanews · 5 months

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Relawan Brebes Adakan Konsolidasi Pemenangan AMIN di Tingkat Kecamatan dan Desa

JAKARTA | KBA – Untuk memperkuat usaha pemenangan pasangan calon presiden (capres) nomor urut 1 Anies Baswedan-Muhaimin Iskandar, Sabtu kemarin, Dewan Pimpinan Daerah (DPD) Sekretariat Kolaborasi Indonesia (SKI) menghadiri konsolidasi koordiator desa (Kordes) SKI se-Kecamatan Larangan Brebes yang dilaksanakan di rumah Ketua Dewan Pimpinan Cabang (DPC) SKI Kecamatan H. Sahiri di Desa…

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bantennewscoid-blog · 9 months

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Pemkab Serang Antisipasi Kenaikan Harga Ayam dan Telur

KAB. SERANG – Pemerintah Kabupaten (Serang) meminta para OPD terkait untuk berupaya menjaga kestabilan harga ayam, telur serta bahan pokok lainnya agar tetap aman dari inflasi. Sekda Kabupaten Serang Tubagus Entus Mahmud Sahiri mengatakan, menjaga stabilitas harga pasca hari raya Idul Adha perlu dilakukan. Meski saat ini inflasi di Kabupaten Serang masih tergolong di bawah angka inflasi…

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#Harga Telur Kabupaten Serang

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softanimalgoose · 1 year

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Writing Meme

Rules: Pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere in the middle, pick a chunk of lines, and share it! Then tag ten people, if you’d like.

I was tagged by @khashanakalashtar (<>) who is in none of my fandoms.

I tag @pfdiva, @lotsadeer, drat I’ve forgotten everyone else’s handles... consider yourself tagged!

From There is No Luck, There is The Force:

“Thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, smiling a little wider as he recognizes the tea. “You always take such good care of me.”

“I try,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan looks up at him sharply, smile beginning to fade. Cody usually says ‘My duty’.

“I suppose it’s not your duty anymore, is it?” Obi-Wan says.

“No,” Cody says. “I do it because I want to.”

From Two Many Horses:

Sophie goes in. Eliot lowers one careful level of shielding and watches the affect in his office shift. Foss is getting offended, right, proper, and as intended. When Nate walks out, dragging Sophie behind him, Eliot pushes off the wall and heads back in.

Foss nods at him and makes this tiny, false, frustrated smile. Eliot has to chuckle.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’ve just seen that look before. That’s a Bob Gibson special.”

From Feel What You Feel:

“I recognize the problems because I have them,” Master Windu says wryly, “I can’t teach the basics of lightsaber form, because I’ve gotten so good at synthesizing and improvising that I don’t consciously have a handle on what the basics are any more. Master Yoda has that problem with dealing with grief.”

“He’s too good at doing it to teach it?”

“Exactly,” Master Windu says, “He forgets to start at the beginning.”

From Things Seshmir Is No Longer Allowed To Do In The Warehouse

The following document is a fair copy of the original, which was scorched, torn, and stained, and was retrieved from the warehouse that Tessa Blackmoor, her girlfriend Ai Abushi, and several other associated criminals live in after the place burned down. It is presented without comment for the edification of the officers of the law who are pursuing these dangerous miscreants.

From There's Not That Much of a Difference Between a Theologian and a Private Eye

Corra looks at the bug, and at Seshmir, and asks Orron for some more napkins. Seshmir pointedly prestidigitates himself clean, and then does the same to the table. Orron snickers.

"I don't think Sahiri meant for you to eat that," Tessa says.

"Jenkins doesn't eat, though," Seshmir says. "Except pain and suffering." Tessa rolls her eyes.

From Rustle of Leaves

AuDy got into the bank with a money transfer. A money transfer going to, of all places, Jackson. Now what would AuDy want in Jackson? In a -- Mako does a little more research -- a Jacksonian fleshhouse.

What would a disembodied mesh intelligence want with a place that sells bodies.

“Oh, come on, AuDy!” Mako says. “There’s gotta be a better way to do this than that.” But then again, depersonal cloning is illegal pretty much everywhere. For good reason, of course, because basically everything you can do with a depersonal clone is a Bad Thing, but it does limit AuDy’s options.

From I’ll Miss More Than Your Beer

“Of course,” Seshmir says, turning to face him. “But I thought you probably wouldn’t want someone to pick up your armor and use it for something bad, and Michael didn’t want to be messing around with any magical artifacts.”

“He asked you to bring these?” Orran gestures to the bag at Seshmir’s feet.

“You left the door unlocked,” Seshmir says. He shrugs. “I’m sure the temple of Mordan has some way of dealing with armor that isn’t needed anymore.”

From This New Thing

“You like them so much you fell over?” Fero sits Samol down again, leaning him up against the tree, brushing the back of his hand against Ordenna in the process. It’s still a strange feeling, even after all these years. His dirt drags onto the stars, and it’s like the opposite of getting a splinter, somehow. Ferrets make little mud nests in the corners of the stars, and it’s Heiron, there where it shouldn’t be.

“That newest one, the ferret — that scarf-caterpillar — it touched the stars and came back down. It left me, and it came back home.” It’s beyond words, and Heiron’s stretching out beyond mortal timescales with the strangeness of it.

From The Heterodyne Boys and The Glass Dirigible

“Remember the plan!” Klaus called.

“Right, brother!” Barry yelled. “No kissing.”

“Aww, really?” Bill tried the hang-dog look that worked so well on business owners who were about to double charge the Heterodyne.

“No kissing,” Klaus and Barry yelled back as one.

From Iatrok

“An iatrok isn’t a doctor, though. It’s a person who has decided that they are devoted to ensuring the health of the people within their reach, whether that is their profession or not.” Cass sighs heavily, fogging their mask. Of all the moments for a human to understand something Apostolosian…

“Also there’s some gender things,” Sixheart says, “But I don’t know how those work.”

“It’s not gender,” Cass says. “If gender were like eidolosnei it would make sense.”

Sixheart snorts. “Fair enough. So. Why does an iatrok want to know ‘just the basics’ of robotic repair and maintenance?”

#tag meme #my writing #leverage #star wars #f@tt #CounterWEIGHT #girl genius #heiron

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realitajayasaktigroup · 1 year

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Dirbinmas Polda Banten Hadiri Kegiatan Pemberian Hadiah Lomba Kampung Bersih dan Aman

RELASIPUBLIK.OR.ID, SERANG || Direktur Pembinaan Masyarakat (Dirbinmas) Polda Banten Kombes Pol Sofwan Hermanto hadiri kegiatan pemberian hadiah Lomba Kampung Bersih dan Aman (LKBA) tingkat Kabupaten Serang tahun 2022 yang dilaksanakan di Radar Banten Arena pada Rabu (07/12). Hadir dalam kegiatan ini Bupati Serang Hj. Ratu Tatu Chasanah, Sekda Kabupaten Serang Drs. Tubagus Entus Mahmud Sahiri,…

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#Dirbinmas Polda Banten #Lomba Kampung Bersih dan Aman

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kiras-platz-im-koffer · 2 years

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12.09.2022, Kuala Tahan (Taman Negara)

Hallo meine liebe Kira,

der Zugang zum Nationalpark ist das Dorf Kuala Tahan, wo wir auch unser Hostel hatten. Um in den Nationalpark zu gelangen, muss man dann bloß noch einmal den Fluss überqueren, was man fix in kleinen länglichen Booten macht.

Die Hütten des Dorfes sind sehr einfach aus Holz und Blech auf Stelzen gebaut. Überall laufen Hühner, Unmengen von Katzen und Kaninchen rum. Wie wahrscheinlich überall in Asien sind auch hier in Malaysia vollbepackte Roller sehr präsent. Das Klima ist sehr tropisch feucht, manchmal drückend warm, manchmal kühl nach dem Regen. Die Wolken hängen immer tief in den Baumkronen.

Auch unser Hostel bietet uns nur eher einfache Verhältnisse. Die Dusche ist kalt mit kaum Wasser, es gibt nur eine Steckdose und unsere Wäsche haben wir per Hand gewaschen. Unser Zimmer hatte nicht mal einen Bodenbelag, bloß nackten Beton 😃 An der Rezeption hat uns ein netter, alter Mann in traditioneller weiter und bunter Kleidung empfangen. Er hatte vorne nur noch zwei Schneidezähne 😅 Direkt nebenan befindet sich eine Moschee, von der aus mehrmals täglich der muslimische Gebetsruf durch das Dorf erklingt.

Das ist bisher wohl unsere Unterkunft mit dem wenigsten Komfort. Doch es ist irgendwie auch sehr erdend. Man lernt sein Trinkwasser aus dem Wasserhahn und seine Dusche von zuhause wieder sehr zu schätzen 😄

Für unseren ersten Tag sind wir die Trekkingstrecke auf den "Berg" Bukit Teresek gelaufen. Dort haben wir auf dem Weg eine Gruppe süßer Affen getroffen. Sie kamen einfach aus den Bäumen hervorgekrochen. Wir haben uns auf den Boden gesetzt und ihnen einfach nur beim klettern und essen zugeschaut. Im Nationalpark sind sie Menschen gewöhnt. Deshalb hatten sie keine Scheu und haben sich teilweise direkt zu uns gesetzt.

Am nächsten Tag konnten wir tiefer in den Dschungel hineinlaufen, weil wir unseren Guide Sahiri dabei hatten. Ich war aber noch recht geschafft vom Vortag und der tropischen Luftfeuchte und Hitze. Sahiris Geschichten über die Tiger und Blutegel im Nationalpark gleich zu Beginn machten meine Laune nicht besser.

Sahiri ist in Kuala Tahan aufgewachsen. Sein Vater gehörte zum Wildlife Department. Von ihm lernte er viel über den malaysischen Dschungel. Er erzählte, wie er hier als Moslem groß geworden ist. Wenn sein Vater jagen gegangen ist, brachte er manchmal Stachelschweinnadeln mit, die er dem ältesten Geschwisterkind schenkte. Die benutzten die Nadeln als Lesezeichen für ihren Koran. Die Nadel ist ein Zeichen für einen höheren Status, Verantwortung und Reife. Da man den Koran jeden Tag mit sich rumträgt, muss man sehr vorsichtig mit der spitzen Nadel sein, die dort drin steckt, hat er erklärt. Er hat uns auch Ratan gezeigt, was bei uns für Möbel genutzt wird. Er sagt, bei ihnen wird das ganz normal zum auspeitschen benutzt, wenn Kinder nicht hören wollen oder von der Regierung als Strafe für Drogenhändler und ähnliches. Ok 😅

Durch seinen Vater im Wildlife Department ist Sahiri auch früh mit Urvölkern aus dem Dschungel in Kontakt gekommen. Im Nationalpark Taman Negara lebt bis heute der Stamm der Bateq. Er erzählte von seiner ersten Begegnung mit ihnen als Fünfjähriger. Eine Familie kam aus den Büschen, ohne Kleidung, zum Wildlife Department, um Tauschhandel mit ihnen zu betreiben. Sie brachten Dschungelmedizin und wollten dafür Reis, Tabak, Kleidung oder Waffen wie eine Machete haben. Er zeigte uns auch mit welchen Bäumen und Pflanzen sie ihre Häuser, Utensilien und Waffen bauen und wo sie das Gift für die Giftpfeile hernehmen. Weil die Bateq die Trauer um einen sterbenden Menschen so unerträglich finden, lassen sie diesen tatsächlich einfach zurück. Das bedeutet, sobald sie sehen, dass jemand im Sterben liegt, verlassen sie ihr "Dorf" und bauen woanders neue Hütten. Den Leichnam bringen sie anschließend hoch in die Baumkronen, wo er schwer zu erreichen ist. Jeder Stamm hat ein Oberhaupt bzw. Sprecher, über den alle Kommunikation läuft. Dessen Ehefrau ist Sprecherin für die Bedürfnisse der Frauen und begleitet Frauen, während der Geburt eines neuen Kindes. Sahiri sagt, dass einige dieser Ureinwohner sich mittlerweile der Modernisierung geöffnet haben, friedlich mit den Dorfmenschen koexistieren und in Kontakt sind. Beispielsweise durch Tauschhandel oder Arbeit als Tourguide oder Bootsfahrer. Manche dieser Kinder gehen sogar im Dorf zur Schule. Doch sie sind trotzdem sehr verbunden mit ihrer Kultur. Wenn sie z.B. Urlaub machen, fahren sie zurück in den Dschungel, weil sie Sehnsucht nach dem Jagen, etc. haben. Das betrifft in etwa 30 % der Ureinwohner des Nationalparks, was 14 Familien unfasst. Die anderen 70 % leben zurückgezogen als Nomaden im Dschungel und lehnen die Modernisierung komplett ab.

Tatsächlich brachte uns Sahiri anschließend nach unserem Dschungeltrip ins Orang Asli Village, wo ein paar Familien der Bateq aktuell wohnen. Sie haben sich bereit erklärt Touristen zu empfangen. Das machen sie anscheinend sehr häufig. Thomas und ich hatten beim Buchen eigentlich verstanden, dass uns die Trekkingtour bloß an verlassenen Hütten vorbeiführen würde. Wir lehnen so eine Art von Tourismus sonst eigentlich komplett ab. Deshalb habe ich mich im Dorf auch sehr unwohl und fehl am Platz gefühlt. Ich wollte die Menschen nicht zu sehr anschauen, nicht groß rumgelaufen und habe keine Fotos gemacht. Andere Touristen waren da sehr viel ungehemmter. Sie liefen überall herum, schauten in die Hütten, redeten mit den Kindern, machten von allem Fotos. Wir waren mehrere Touristengruppen, bestimmt 20 - 30 Leute. Die Bateq hatten für die Touristen schon ein kleines Programm vorbereitet. Ein Junge legte uns einen Korb mit verschiedenen Utensilien hin und ein Mann führte uns vor, wie sie damit Feuer machen oder mit Giftpfeilen durch ein Bambusrohr schießen. Wir durften es auch mal versuchen.

Die Hütten sind vollständig aus Baum- und Pflanzenmaterialien gebaut. Die Stelzen und das tragende Gerüst aus Stämmen und Ästen, die Verbindungen gebunden aus Ratan, die umhüllende Fassade aus Baumrinde und die Dachabdeckung aus getrockneten großen Blättern. Die Einwohner sind sehr schüchtern. Sie tragen normale Kleidung, die sie wohl von den Dorfbewohnern bekommen haben. Trotzdem unterscheiden sie sich interessanterweise äußerlich stark von der asiatischen Bevölkerung. Ihre Haut ist viel dunkler, ihr Gesicht nicht so flach und sie haben meist einen Afro oder sehr lockige Haare.

Ich meine, ich kenne diese Menschen nicht und finde manche sehr ursprüngliche Traditionen auch häufig sehr kritisch. Aber nur zu sehen und von Sahiri zu hören, wie einfach sie dort leben, wie sie sich nur auf sich selbst konzentrieren und genügsam nur so viel nehmen, wie sie brauchen, wie respektvoll sie mit ihrer Umwelt und der Natur umgehen. Da habe ich, als ich ihnen gegenüberstand, Scham verspürt. Für die Umweltverschmutzung und den Klimawandel, für den Kolonialismus, für Menschen die ihr Maul nicht vollbekommen, für die Menschen wie Putin die Kriege führen, für Touristen, die diese Menschen als nichts mehr als eine Attraktion sehen. Einfach Scham dafür zu diesen "modernen" Menschen zu gehören, die so viel Leid durch so viel Dummheit anrichten. Eigentlich habe ich diese Menschen nur zu gern getroffen. Nur hätte ich das lieber in einem anderen Kontext getan. Mehr auf Augenhöhe, weniger wie Tiere im Zoo.

Das eigentliche Ziel der Tour war aber der kleine Teras Wasserfall. Dort haben wir eine Pause gemacht und sind etwas baden gegangen. Den Rückweg sind wir mit einem kleinen Kanu über den Fluss durch die Stromschnellen gedüst.

Am Ende des Tages war die Erfahrung im Nationalpark recht durchwachsen. Es kommt mir auch hier alles sehr durchkommerzialisiert vor. Noch vor der Ankunft in Kuala Tahan kamen wir an einer Art Checkpoint vorbei, wo wir für die Nutzung von Kameras Geld bezahlen und einige Zettel unterschreiben mussten und es wurde sofort begonnen uns Touren und ähnliches aufzuschwatzen. Auch der Besuch bei den Bateq hatte einen bitteren Beigeschmack. Sahiri sagt zwar, dass die Einwohner sich dazu entschieden haben, die Touristen zu empfangen. Aber ich bin mir nicht sicher, wie viel die Regierung da nachgeholfen und welche Auswirkungen es tatsächlich auf sie hat.

Viel Liebe aus Taman Negara, Kuala Tahan 🐒

Céline 😚

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whiteknightxmadhatter · 4 years

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लगातार हो रही असफलताओ से निराश नही होना चाहिए क्योक़ि कभी-कभी गुच्छे की आखिरी चाबी भी ताला खोल देती है

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chandtarasblog · 4 years

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میں ہوش میں تھا تو اس پے مر گیا کیسے

#mehdi hassan #gazal #sahiri #shair #urdu #urdu literature #pakistan #litrature #folk #folk music #pakistani folk #faiz ahmed faiz #اردو #شعری #shayri #poetry #urdu poetry

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epidaleacalamita · 2 years

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“When Sahiris forsook faith and law to become the Saint-Heretic, she cast aside her own Starspear, and in its stead took up a broad-bladed executioner’s sword, an unadorned instrument of simple violence. Perhaps it was a reflection of her own transformation from one of the Empire’s celebrated Warsaints into the instrument of its destruction.”

#decided to try drawing osmething smaller than my desktop backgrounds #also had been in a mood to draw lizarb murdernun lately #was cool until i had to draw the background and then i nearly died #but i guess having to actually confront my inability is crucial to actually overcoming it. or something #adventures in image production

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crayolakoda · 7 years

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they saved the world once you know

#ocs #pathfinder #sketch #from left to right #liem tammet #juliet regal #relius willowheart #enthryl ashenblade #sahiri #duma #crayolakoda #oc

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radarbanten · 2 years

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Istri ASN Tanyakan Tukin, Begini Penjelasan Pemkab Serang

RADARBANTEN.CO.ID – Sekretaris Daerah (Sekda) Pemkab Serang Tubagus Entus Mahmud Sahiri mengaku mendapatkan banyak keluhan dari Aparatur Sipil Negara (ASN) terkait pencairan tunjangan perbaikan penghasilan (TPP) atau tunjangan kinerja (Tukin). Bahkan, Entus juga mengaku mendapatkan keluhan dari para istri ASN. Keluhan tersebut disampaikan istrinya selaku ketua Dharma Wanita Persatuan (DWP)…

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subtletyislost · 6 years

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23 26 32 37 50

23. What is a random fact about your OC?

Scion: one time they were kidnapped, less than three days later, the kidnappers returned them, claiming they had “”found”’ Scion and that Scion had bitten one of them so hard on the arm that he needed stitches (the latter part was completely true)

Xiá: Ahsi (Xiá’s species) only have 4 digits on each hand. Their numerical system is base 8. Xiá’s age in base-10 numbers is 23 years or 94 cycles (4 cycles per year, she’s 23.5 years). In base 8, that translates to 27 years or 136 cycles)

26. Who is the most important person in their life? Why? Who is the least important to them (that still has an impact and why?)

Scion: the most important person in their life is Xiá, because she’d go to the ends of the universe and back for them. Scion doesn’t have contact with their family, and aside from various people they know either from work or from school, (before meeting the rest of the crew) Xiá is the only person that Scion talks to that doesn’t want to throw them to the pirates or sell them as a pet. Plus like, Xiá thinks their beautiful, and tho Scion believes this means Xiá might be partly blind, they think that is the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever said about them and they don’t want to lose that. Least important to them is their boss with the Galactic Research Foundation, mostly because they believe they have no reason to care for the man who sees them as nothing more than the reports they send in.

Xiá: Scion and Florisia (her mother) are both the most important people in Xiá’s life. Scion because she’s in love with them and because Scion’s the only human Xiá’s ever met who wasn’t either scared to death of her because of who her mom is, or a jerk because of her mild manner and race. Her mother because Florisia raised Xiá alone after all of Xiá’s siblings either died or were killed by predators (bonus fact: the Ahsi are not the apex predator on their planet, this may be part of why they were so keen to leave it and return to their mother-goddess Ci, goddess of space). The least important person in Xiá’s life is Sahiri, the person one step down from Florisia on the command chain of the Galactic Security Forces. Xiá doesn’t care about them because she doesn’t need to care about them. At best, she knows them as “old babysitter”.

32. If they could have one thing in the world, what would it be?

Scion: they want more than anything, even more than their main driving force in the plot, they want people to stop thinking it’s weird that they’ve collected and repaired so many “ancient” gaming devices when AR and VR, and HR (holographic reality, the next step up from VR, think the holosuite on Star Trek) exist in such a great and unique state (plus there’s so many video games they can play from the “modern age” (current day for the story) that are just as nice, or better, than old games.

Xiá: for people to stop referring to Scion as her pet human

37. What’s something that your character does, that other people don’t normally do?

Scion: depends on what you mean by “other”. They’re autistic and that’s a whole salad worth of traits and quirks they do that allistic people don’t normally do. But! the main thing they do that other people in their time-period don’t normally do is restore old tech.

Xiá: shapeshift

50. If your character was presented with imminent and unavoidable death/fatality, how would they react? Would they try to avoid death anyways? Would they try to make their last days count?

Scion: would try to avoid death anyways while still making their last days count. Turning the “quest” to avoid death into some kind of fun adventure.

Xia: would make her last days count, probably solve some big ancient mystery while she still has time and then spend the rest of her time in Scion’s arms, cuddling.

#scion in space #ask game #my writing #my stories #shut up amaranth #Anonymous

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