Qued Zarga (Tunisia)

March 11th 2009

“This is a very special day”, and breathing it into words seems like an understatement to say the very least. Today my sister Patricia and I concluded a journey that began many years ago, as far back as a little boy without memories of his own, the final leg of this journey began this morning in Tunis as I drove the rental car out through the crowded streets to the outskirts of bedlam, getting lost a few times along the way. It seemed like the only way I could find my way was by chance, and it actually took longer to get out of the city than it took to get the rest of the way to Qued Zarga.

The new highway west from Tunis to Qued Zarga was amazing, 110 KLMS and all alone all the way, a toll road the equivalent of a dollar twenty five Canadian. The highway actually ended at Qued Zarga and it was possible to see the cemetery from the exit toll booth. It was beautiful to see it from a distance positioned on the northeast bank of the river, which was misty blue against the clear sky.

Getting closer and closer had a sedating effect after all the pondering that had been done over the years, not a bit like the hot sweltering desert I had imagined. What a welcome surprise to find lush rolling countryside all around, mostly olive trees row on row and some orange trees. It comforted me in a pleasant way to think that perhaps my dad’s last days on earth were spent in such a picturesque place, maybe even enjoying some fresh oranges now and then? It was nowhere near the gloomy end I had conjured up in my mind and it made me feel much better. And I must say that it was nice to learn that Qued Zarga meant “River Blue”…

As I drove the short distance though the olive grove from the main road, the sun was bright and the cloudless sky was unanimous. The light skipped across the still surface of Qued Zarga and onto the distant gravestones as I maneuvered the car over the rough sandy road to the cemetery gate.

As far as I could see there was only the two of us accept for a few farmers shading themselves under a tree nearby. Pat and I were very quiet on entering the site, the same way you would enter a church. We found ourselves whispering to each other as we very lightly walked around, it was like we were in a dream and we were both in it together. Even now as I write about it back in Tunis I’m still there in the dream…

We stayed in the heat of the sun, burned slightly from the early exposure to the UV rays, wandering like lost souls all around the site. I strolled up and down the rows and then up along the old tractor road through the olive grove, looking back to the cemetery for a different angle and photo for later. I will be looking at them over and over so I thought I’d better take as many as I could. I know that other folk are not going to want to see it from every angle but I knew that I would, so I clicked away. Both Pat and I had our private moments with dad where personal thoughts were shared with him, forever knowing where dad is now. Here, in this very special place where he’s been resting for over fifty years, on the sandy and green hillside sloping gently down to the River Blue.

I will always remember the fisherman in his flat bottom boat gently drifting through my view, the two shy dogs keeping a watchful eye on our movements. The young farm workers still resting under an olive tree in the heat of the day. The brilliant sunshine cast over us like a shroud and the donkey on the crest of the hill that couldn’t care less…

When the time came to go the transition was not easy, it had taken us so long to make this journey and now we had to go already, for me this is when the real sadness hit the air, and I guess I haven’t left, not all of me anyway. A big piece of me stayed behind as we drove away seemingly as slowly as possible, stopping at different points to take another look back. A piece of my father left with me also and I can feel a presence with me now that I never felt before, I suppose this could be what they call closure but in a strange way it felt more like a beginning, maybe it’s both. Anyway I think I understand what it all means now and I’m content with it. I love you dad, now I know where you are, and at last we have been together…

I also put a small bottle of whiskey on his gravestone which I later poured on the ground over him, and I brought back twenty colourful pebbles from on top of dad’s grave so I can look at them and feel closer if I get further away again…

Postscript: My daughter Kelly asked me to put some daisies by his grave and I did that for her. She also asked me to thank him for her life, I did that too.

Posted By: John Ellis

I Will Not Forget

Sgt. George S. Ellis. Royal Engineers (A True Scot)

This old worn out photograph, it’s all I have to remember my father; it’s all I ever had in fact. He was killed in action in North Africa just six weeks after I was born, we never met. This photograph was my father, I had nothing else.

The man in uniform was a mystery to me for the most part; my mother was always reluctant to talk about him because it brought tears to her eyes and a tremble to her lips. She stayed true to him throughout her life and never remarried and I think her sacrifice was far greater; her loss must have been staggering to live out her life without him.

The uniform was all the suite of cloths my father had, he was photographed in them, he was married in them, he went off to war in them, and he was killed and buried in them somewhere in Tunisia, a long way from the warmth of his home fire, a long way from his family and Country, and a long way from the affections of his loving wife and children.

I think about him all the time but especially around this time of year, November 11th, and on this morning I make my way to the local Cenotaph to observe Remembrance Day. I share this moment with countless others, most I’ve never seen before, but we all endure our grief together in silence. In this moment we are all one family, remembering our loved ones with the deepest regret and sorrow, and no matter whether we are from this country or foreign, we join in this special moment as one.

I used to think it was all a huge mix-up and that my dad was still alive somewhere in the world trying to get home, and that one day he would just appear. Lately this thought has changed to “what if he were still alive today, what would he be like”? I watch the older veterans, few and fewer each passing year as they march proudly past, wishing one of them could be him.

It’s always with mixed feelings and sadness I consider the ultimate sacrifice of my father, and it’s the same for all other solders lost, or should I say hero’s lost? I will not forget…

By: John S. Ellis
http://www.musicborders.com/



(The following video clip was taken in Victoria BC, Canada during the Remembrance Day celebrations, 2007) ...

Remembrance Day 2007

TofinoBus

The new Pacific Sands paint job: Just a quick word to let you all know that I'm working up in Port Alberni for Tofino Bus Lines. It's almost a year since I started working here, I was just supposed to help out for a couple of months until they hired some local drivers but as you can see I'm still here. As I was last year I will be taking a few months to rest up this winter, probably from the end of November until the end of January 2008.


The video clip below was taken last November on the Pacific Rim Highway. As you may have heard the rains came and they kept coming all month without a break. Still the sights are breathtakingly beautiful, and as you can see the water never stops. The overhanging rocks squeeze out every last drop creating some astonishing waterfalls and the rivers and creeks were to their max. I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of adding some appropriate music to help everything along...

The Tofino Run



To see more videos like this click on link. http://youtube.com/profile?user=johnsellis

A November To Remember

Blizzards, blowing snow, floods, heavy rains, fog, trees falling down, power outages, treacherous driving conditions, even a little bit of sunshine thrown in for good luck. Yes it was definitely a November to remember but the winter of 1996 is still fresh in my mind and I can still remember the depth of it, the only thing showing of my car was the tip of the aerial and I had to crawl through snow up to my stomach to get to it. Bear, our dog, a very very big dog was buried accept for his great ears sticking up like radar antennas as he struggled through it.

I'm looking outside my flat right now and it's beautiful from inside the glass, yesterday the temperature was down to minus eight through the night and that's very cold for Victoria. No this one doesn't make or break any records and in a few days it will all be behind us, the winter of 96 is the one to beat in this century and the last, hopefully it won’t be this year.

Posted November 30th 2006
www.musicborders.com

On The Buses

As a lot of you know I've been busy this summer driving for Royal Blue Line here in Victoria BC, driving Double Decker buses with the open top. If you want to find me that's where I'll be until the end of September, why don't you come for a ride on the city tour, it's a one and a half hour tour of the city plus some surprises thrown in.

I'll be getting back to the music this Fall and through the winter months, if you have a project that wants dealing with now would be a good time to let me know so we can schedule some time in the studio.

Talk to you soon.

Publishe by MusicBorders.com

Bald Eagle Birth (Hornby Island British Columbia)

Bald Eagles are long-established as a symbol of freedom in many places around the world, where this majestic bird has made its way onto flags and crests throughout history, I’ve said “if I were ever to be re-incarnated I would like to come back as a Bald Eagle”.

When I see them soaring high from my window here in Victoria or anywhere on the Island, I always stop to look, and I always feel like I’m being treated to a special moment, a moment that demands great respect. If there are other people present they to, always stop, to pay homage to this noble bird, no doubt we are all having the same wonderful experience…

Now you can watch the live birth of two Bald Eagle Chicks in their nest on Hornby Island, where a local resident has placed a webcam right above them. Enjoy...

Posted By: John Ellis

Published by: Music Borders
www.musicborders.com

Hotel Rendezvous (Slippery Night Creams)

One bare bulb lit the main entrance of the dilapidated building, which needed a fresh coat of paint, the crumpled paper in my hand coincided with the name above on the plastic awning; "Hotel Rendezvous". I had found the wrinkled notepad in my pocket earlier as I was happily going about my day. But here, a gray foggy tinge loomed in the atmosphere, rather like the opening scenes to an offensive horror picture or a bad dream, but curiosity has been liable for sullying countless happy days...

Once inside I found myself in a dark dimly lit corridor, bare plaster, cracked walls and an unloved smell about the place. I had a menacing feeling of being watched and followed, which turned out not so far from the truth. First one person appeared then another, I could feel them just behind me and it was making me very nervous, hurrying along they kept up, and as I approached apartment 114 one of them dodged in front of me quickly knocking on the door. My heart was racing and I could feel my pulse right through my clothing as the door slowly opened. I stepped back out of sight and the two people pushed thought the doorway, I wondered why there was so much interest in visiting my wife's room, I looked again at the name on that piece of crumpled paper, I had read it correctly. Lydia, room 114.

Not really understanding what was going on I suddenly sensed that I was not expected to be there; the feeling of jealousy building up in the pit of my stomach forewarned me of my natural impulse, and I was frozen in the spot. Only a few seconds had passed but now I was frantic and pushing my way into the hotel room, only to find two older looking men laying on single beds and my wife struggling to explain. Well, as you can imagine I felt the sudden compulsion to thump and kick, and not listening to the desperate pleas of innocence coming from my significant other I left my angry mark on the festivities and stormed out.

I was very surprise to find the police waiting for me as I ran from the building, almost as if it was all predestined, the next thing I knew I was standing before a judge. I could clearly hear the magistrate from where he sat, on his priceless leather seat, a stoutly well fed fellow full of the best intentions and not fully appreciative of my bloody outburst in the hotel room, and also disregarding my rage of passion as a defense. After a thoughtful look and clearing his bacon lined throat coughed up his decision. "There are no good reasons for acting like you did", he said, "and although you claim to have been caught up the passion of the moment, caused by your wife's infidelities, it is nevertheless an inappropriate measure". It was all a candid eye opener for me, a real awakening from my nightmare. Six months in the lock-up is what I had to show for my rampage, me, I'm the guilty one, and it's up to me to pay the debt to society.

Today I'm cleaning the latrines and to look at me you would only see contempt on my face, up to my neck in crap leaves me to count unlikely blessings. A comforting visit from my estranged wife gives me hope; her beautiful smile fills me with confidence. Further visits produce total forgiveness and the touch of her hand reduces the rest of my time to the bare minimum.

The next thing I know, I'm on my way to see my loving wife, still reeking of time spent and cloths to bear out the wholesome services performed during my incarceration. Not a pretty sight but with a squint of one eye I feel more like I'm back from the war, a hero maybe. However, the closer I got the dirtier I felt and as I arrived at the Convention Centre I became more and more alienated from my resolve. Catching site of myself in the glass didn't help matters either and it was obvious to me that I was still an outsider in my wife's world, here she's meeting with her equals, the dress code was somewhere between tiara's and midnight mass, not the place for the likes of me I thought. Uncomfortable as I was the excitement of surprising my wife was far too overwhelming to resist, and after confirming her room number with the front desk I continued through the lobby and into the elevator.

Surprisingly I ran into an old friend and his family, they were so glad to see me, I even got a nice hug from their children. "Its great see you", they said. "We haven't seen you for ages", I was more focused on my devoted wife being so close, I could only think of the tender reunion waiting for me upstairs as I left them behind in the elevator. It seemed like forever as I walked along the corridors, running into more people I knew and getting more directions to my wife's room. Time seemed to slow the closer I got, making me more anxious and aware of myself. The hero returns in rags I thought to myself, and it became a struggle to walk. She wasn't in her room when I got there so my search persisted, again running into everyone else I knew but not Lydia, where was she?

Ted seemed to appear out of nowhere, "hey, how-ya-doin", he said with a nervous chant. Where's Lydia? I asked him, I'm having a hell of a time finding her. Well Ted was never one for pulling punches, I've seen her with Duncan the last couple of days, "Duncan" I said, are we talking about the same Duncan? I joked, "yes we are" he said has he glanced nerviously at the ceiling.

I don"t remember the following series of events that well, but I do recall my heart pounding, a quickened step, clenched fists, tight lips forming every curse word ever known, frantic searching in dark spaces, Duncan's frightened face as I closed in, Lydia's fruitless cries of innocence as I finally caught up with them. What can I say, it was a real nightmare; my life was no longer worth living and I no longer cared, the horror of a reoccurring theme became overwhelming to the point of rage, I just lost it. It was time to do the honorable thing again, and defending my wife's virtue was becoming second nature to me, of course I would forgive her but her secret admirer, my old friend Duncan would have to pay the going rate for his sins. I tightened my fists...

I suddenly awoke in a panic, sweat dripping down my neck and the bed sheet wrapped around me like a straight-jacket, the bedroom blurred through my startled eyes. As I looked around I slowly realized it was really only a dream, a very bad dream but only a dream. Lydia lay sleeping peacefully beside me, her face reflecting an innocence reserved just for angels. The fluffy down quilt pulled right up to her pink shiny nose, curlers in her hair, no make-up, what a treasure she was. Just then she knowingly rolled over to face the other way and I thought how appropriate, now I get to look at the backside. It's funny really because I felt I had to apologies to her for doubting her love, it was just a dream, my dream but I felt terrible for it. I stood up and went around to her side of the bed, but there wasn't much of her face showing between the sheets, so I decided to fluff them up. I always like it when she takes the quilt and top sheet and wafts them, filling them with the cool morning air; it feels so fresh and extravagant when she does it so I thought I would do the same for her. I noticed a little curl in her lips as she slept and mistaking it for some sort of acknowledgment I decided to give her a little kiss and a squeeze, it uncurled her lips to the upside down variety. Rejected again, this time with me in awake mode, just great, after my nightmarish trivial pursuit I get cast off like an unwanted old boot.

I stood back and looked at her and I though to myself, go back to your dreams my treasure, you deserve my old friend Duncan, nobody ever liked him anyway so you're welcome to him. I hope he loves you, especially with your curlers and your slippery night creams...

Written by: John Ellis
Published by: Music Borders
www.musicborders.com