The Marches, Rory Stewart

This is a strange book.  At one time sloppy, and at another quite interesting.  Overall I am still not sure about it or what he got from his journey.  I read his book 'The places in between,' concerning his walk across Afghanistan, and I liked it.  This one, split into three parts, is different.

The book begins with Rory talking about his father.  When I first opened it I found it rather too much, the relationship at home was one I thought ought to remain at home.  As his father was 50 when he was born it meant he was well into his 30s and refers throughout the book to his 'daddy.'  Had my father lived that long, and I called him 'daddy' at that age he may well have been wondering about me.  He also never called me 'darling,' a term used for the females in the family.  It would have sounded odd when used of a son.  Now I know other people use such terms in this way, but it left me feeling somewhat queasy.  So, I dumped the book for some time until I was forced to see if it was as bad as I feared.  

The early part takes us on a walk along Hadrian's Wall, or what is left of it, time and the archaeologists have had their way upon it.  Father being in his 80s he tends to drive on to a meeting place where the two will join together to discuss what has been found.  Rory walks along the wall discussing the present state of its being, adding as much history as he can discover.  He then relates this to his own army experience and as a government employee in south Iraq, along with his fathers army and government work in Malaya and Hong Kong.    

Then we realise that neither were true Scots.  The father was born and bred in Scotland but once the war came his army experiences and later British government work 'for the Empire,' left a deep mark upon him.  Both have spent time working for 'The Queen,' both spent time abroad, rather that in Scotland, neither have much experience of 'the man in the street,'(a phrase banned by some) or daily life for most Scots.  This leaves the fathers' insistence on playing the Scot at all times leaving questions. He only offers visitors Scots food and whisky, made a big thing of Scots highland dancing, (Something demanded by the Black Watch when an officer), and wore the kilt or Scots apparel but really did not know who or what he was to his dying days in his 90s.  Something I reckon many Scots serving the Empire also felt.  Rory himself, living in Cumbria and for a time their member for parliament, shares similar lack of awareness of who and what he is.  This is a growing undercurrent throughout this book.

Rory walks along the wall, then in the second part wanders across what he calls the Middleland, the space between the wall and the Scottish border.   He talks to one and all, attempting to understand if they are Scot or English, and do they understand their history.  It seems to me the incomers to the area, and it is a somewhat bleak area, understand the history better than the locals, though the locals, few and far between, always appear disinterested, possibly because of Rory?

The third walk takes Rory from the borders up to Crieff where his fathers home lay.  

Along all the journey we have interesting historical details, comparing the present to the past, the changes to the land caused by agriculture or Monks, by military or weather, farmers or governments.  We learn that borders people in Scotland speak Scots, but apparently do not recognise the border as we do.  Those in England remain English.  Those living on the borders, where families spread across two sides, are often confused as to what they are.  

I think Rory is trying to work out if he is British or Scots, and finding no answer.  Living in Cumbria, where they are English, even though the border is just up the road, emphasises that he is English.  I think this is the problem for many of the 'Edinburgh and border' types who vote Conservative.  They wish to be Scots but have been educated as English, and their money is over the border.

All the while Rory continues to write and phone his 'daddy,' and discuss his findings.  He is keen to understand his fathers opinions, though these reflect those of an active man who worked for the Secret Service, often in dangerous places on behalf of 'the queen.'  His experience, compared to Roman soldiers on the Wall, his understanding of his son and shared experiences, are interesting, though at times I again consider much of what was written ought to have remained within the family. It is notable that his mother is rarely mentioned.   

I read through the book, and would recommend it anyone interested in the borders and walking in the rain.  Rory writes well and many good facts and questions to ponder come from the walk.  It's worth a read.

 

"The Places in Between" by Rory Stewart

 

This is a very interesting book.

Rory Stewart, a diplomat, a man who has planted thousands of trees, spent time as a Governor in Iraq, a man who has walked over almost all Asian nations, decided, having lived in Afghanistan for three years to walk across northern Afghanistan in winter!  This book describes his travels and is well worth a read.

His ability to speak local languages, or at least part so some, opened doors in the way a non speaker could not make progress.  His understanding of Islam and how the villagers lives, especially as he was walking during 2002 just after the end of the Taliba war, enabled him to live overnight under locals hospitality.     

Accompanied until around the halfway mark, and against his will, by a couple of security men, whose real role he often wondered about, especially as they brought their sick friend along, he trecked across the northern trail in increasingly cold weather.  By half way through the snow was lying thick and never let up until he reached kabul.  

Rory followed the route taken some 500 years before by the Moghul Emperor Barbur from Herat to Kabul as he headed towards invading India. He too travelled in winter, though he had a large retinue following him.  His work is quoted throughout the book.

Afghanistan society is divided among many tribes, all following a form of Islam though age old culture is the real influence here.  Indeed, in some places Rory discovered few if any could read, and as the Koran is written in Arabic which few spoke, this was a handicap.  Nnetheless all prayed at the right time, many were anxious about Rory and whether he was Islamic (he lied quite a few times to remain alive) and only those who had gone into Kabul, Pakistan or Iran had a view on something of the outside world.  Only one tribe, much harmed as all others were by the wars, whether with Russians, Taliban or one another, with blood feuds going back into eons, only one tribe allowed women freedom to speak and join debates.

At Chagcharan Rory loses the remain companion, the two others had failed long before, and he was at last free to walk, as he had always intended, alone to Kabul.  Here however he met the British Army as a large airbase had been established here.  The cockney voices intrigued him after not hearing English from the villagers, especially as they all considered him, quite rightly, mad!  

They however, did feed him and his new dog Barbur, which he had been sold somewhat unwillingly, on his travels.  Barbur is a Mastiff, used to protect the people and sheep and cattle, when they actually had them, or as fighting dogs.  Badly treated by the locals, as they had little consideration for their animals, or those they had left after the fighting, and Barbur was very timid when Rory raised his stick, all walkers require them, to fend of packs of dogs that attacked them on the road.  Years of abuse not easily forgotten.

In spite of those who favoured the Taliban hindering the journey Rory reaches Kabul and his friends there.  His dog, which he had sent on ahead before he entered the last tribal area, they would not have allowed the dog to survive, enjoyed Kabul.  Here the friends fed him meat, on the journey little food was found, mostly dry bread, and the life of Riley was now available to the dog.  Sadly, he was given a sheeps bone, something he was unused to eating, and shreds of bone entered and rupruted his stomach and he died.  

Rory Stewarts prose enables us to walk with him through deep snow, very unfriendly areas, passing through high mountain passes blocked by snow that sensible people would avoid, and receive somewhat grudging hospitality from poverty stricken villagers who had little hope or expectation of a better life.  For eons Afghanistan, and Pakistan, have nursed mountain people into their own culture.  The idea of imposing western democracy upon this is laughable, but far too many tried.  This book reveals the heart of the country, the villagers outside the cities, the one who support much of the Talibans ideas, partly because this ensured some peace, partly because they are their people.  The west had no chance to improve the lot of many as wished, because they were dealing with people but not their culture.  That culture will not change easily, especially today with the Taliban once again in charge. 

Interesting to me was how this reflected the book of Judges, and the tribal society of early Israel.  The people followed generally one Law, were mostly an agricultural village society, fought more with one another than those outside, had their local leaders rather than national, and were open to all sort of outside influences, but wished to remain themselves at all times.  

We could learn much about the world and real life from this book.  I recommend it.