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2024.05.10 20:04 Vukobasa An observer in the Near East: MONTENEGRO (1907)
ΜΟΝΤΕΝEGRO submitted by Vukobasa to Crnogorstvo [link] [comments] CHAPTER I THE CITY IN THE SKY Why I went to the Balkans―The road to Montenegro―Cettinje and its petroleum tins―About the blood-feud―England and Montenegro―Warned not to attempt to go to Albania―My guide a marked man-The story of Tef―A woman's fickleness, and its sequel. CHAPTER II AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS The Palace at Cettinje―A cigarette with the Prince―The policy of Montenegro―A confidential chat―His Royal Highness's admiration for England―His views upon Macedonia―He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania. but I persuade him to help me―His Highness's kindness―Souvenirs. ** CHAPTER I THE CITY IN THE SKY Why I went to the Balkans— The road to Montenegro — Cettinje and its petroleum tins — About the blood-feud — England and Montenegro — Warned not to attempt to go to Albania — My guide a marked man — The story of Tef — A woman's fickleness, and its sequel. I ENTERED the Balkans by the back door. The luxuries of the Orient Express had no attraction for me. I wanted to see the Balkans as they really are, those great, wild, mountainous countries, so full of race hatreds, of political bickerings, of fierce blood-feuds, of feverish propa- gandas those nations with their interesting monarchs and their many mysteries. The "Orient" runs direct from Paris to the Balkan capitals, it is true, but if one goes to study a people the capital is not the only place in which to discover the truth. One must go into the country, move among the peasantry, hear their grievances and investigate their wrongs. Therefore I decided to enter the East by Montenegro, and also visit the wild and little-known regions of Northern Albania. The comfortable voyage by the Austrian-Lloyd mail steamer Graf Wurmbrand from Trieste down the Adriatic, touching at Pola, the Austrian naval station, Lussinpiccolo, Zara- famed for its maraschino-Sebenico, Spalato, and Gravosa to Cattaro, has been already described by many writers. Suffice it to say that it is perhaps one of the most picturesque of pleasure-trips in the world, for every moment one has a fresh panorama of mountain and blue sea, of green, fertile islands with subtropical vegetation, and tiny white villages nestling at the sea's edge, as the steamer threads her way through the narrow and often difficult channels. At times the wild scenery, especially in the Bocche di Cattaro, reminds the traveller of the Norwegian fiords, and at others the coast is an almost exact reproduction of the French Riviera. The object of my journey was, however, not in order to write a mere description of men and places. There have been other travellers in the Balkans who have related their story, therefore my mission was to make careful inquiry into the present unsettled state of affairs, try and discover the grievances of both sides, and endeavour to obtain from the rulers and statesmen of the various nations their aspirations for the future. This I succeeded in doing, for the various monarchs of the Balkans graciously gave me audience; and from their Ministers, from the middle classes, and from the peasants, I was enabled at last to form some conclusion as to the real situation-political, economical, social, and financial. The writer who attempts to place the various Balkan questions impartially and clearly before the public will at once find himself utterly confused, and wallowing wildly in a morass of misstatement and misrepresentation. The Balkans are torn by race hatreds, party strife, and the intrigues of the Powers. The Turk hates the Bulgar, the Serb hates the Austrian, the Roumanian hates the Greek, the Albanian hates the Montenegrin, the Bosnian hates the Turk, while the Macedonian hates everybody all round. What is told to one authoritatively one hour, is flatly contradicted the next; therefore it is not in the least surprising that in the European Press there have been so many misstatements about the various Balkan questions, the real truth being so very difficult to obtain. I have, however, endeavoured to obtain it, and at risk of being injudicious, to place before the reader the facts as they are, without any political bias, or any seeking to gloss over the many glaring defects of administration of which I have myself been witness. To describe the beauties of the Bocche di Cattaro, that series of winding channels where the high grey mountains rise sheer from the water, would be only to traverse old ground. Suffice it to say that I landed at Cattaro on a bright, sunny noon, and found upon the quay a tall, lean mountaineer who had been sent to meet me. To the traveller fresh from the West the Montenegrin costume of both women and men is very attractive, but a few days in the Balkans soon accustoms the eye to a perfect phantasmagoria of colour and of costume. Pero was my driver's name, and I noticed that around his waist was a revolver belt, but minus the weapon. I inquired where it was, and with a grin he informed me that Cattaro, being in Dalmatia, the Austrians would not allow Montenegrins to bring arms into their country; so they were compelled to leave them on the other side of the frontier, ten kilometres distant. My bags packed upon the three-horse travelling carriage and secured with many strings, and Pero equipped with a plentiful stock of cigarettes, he mounted upon the box, whipped up his long-tailed ponies, and we started on our eight-hour ascent of that great wall of mountain that hides Montenegro from the sea. As we ascended through the little village of Skaljari we entered upon a magnificent road, said to be one of the greatest engineering feats of modern times, and steadily ascended, until at the striped black-and-yellow Austrian boundary post we crossed the frontier, and were in the "Land of the Black Mountain"-Montenegro. Across the road, at an acute angle, a row of paving-stones marks the frontier, and soon after- wards we found ourselves in the wildest and most desolate mountain region. At a lonely roadside hut Pero obtained his big, serviceable-looking revolver, and I, of course, wore mine in my belt; for in Montenegro or Albania arms make the man. A man unarmed is looked upon as an effeminate coward. Indeed, by order of Prince Nicholas every Monte- negrin must wear the national dress, both men and women, and every man must carry his revolver when out of doors. Four hours from Cattaro we were in a lonely mountain fastness, a wild, desolate, treeless region of huge limestone rocks of peculiar volcanic formation, which gave them the appearance of a boiling sea. The views over the Adriatic as we turned back were so superb that, despite photographing being strictly forbidden on account of the fortresses in the vicinity, I could not resist the temptation to take one or two surreptitiously. On, through a bleak, uninhabited country, we at last reached the guard-house of Kerstac, and then half an hour later found ourselves upon a plateau where, in the centre, stood the small clean village of Nyegush, the ancestral home of the reigning family, and the scene of most of the Montenegrin wars of independence. Here we halted for half an hour at the post-house, and before we left, the big, lumbering post-diligence, with its armed guard, came up behind us. Before we moved off again it had grown dark, the moon shone, and for four hours longer we alternately climbed and descended through that wild region of silence and desolation, until at last we saw, deep below, the lights of Cettinje, the little capital, and an hour later brought us to the unpre- tending "Grand" Hotel. Hardly had I entered my room when there came a loud knock at my door, and a tall, scarlet-coated Montenegrin warrior, armed to the teeth, entered and saluted. For a moment I looked up at him aghast, but the mystery was solved when, next second, he handed me with great ceremony a telegram from a dear friend in England wishing me God- speed. I had taken him to be, at least, one of the Prince's bodyguard, and he was only a plain telegraph messenger! This was but one of many surprises in store for me in Montenegro. Next morning I went out to look round the clean little capital, when, on passing the Prince's palace, I saw a number of soldiers drawn up, and as I went by, the band suddenly struck up the British National Anthem! I raised my hat, halted, and stood puzzled. Surely they were not honouring me! Another moment, however, and I recognised the reason. In a carriage, accompanied by the Grand Marechal of the Court, there drove up my friend Mr. Charles des Graz, the newly-appointed British Chargé d'Affaires to Montenegro, who was about to present his creden- tials to His Royal Highness the Prince. Montenegro is perhaps the most interesting country in all the Balkans. Cettinje, a small, clean town of broad streets and one-storeyed, whitewashed houses, is a little city in the sky, lying as it does in a cup-shaped depression at the summit of a high, bare mountain. Its long, straight, main street reminds one very much of a small country town in England, if it were not that everyone is, by law, compelled to wear the national dress, and every man has in his belt his big, long- barrelled revolver, without which he must never go out of doors. The men, sturdy mountaineers, are of fine physique- handsome fellows, all of them. Their dress consists of dark blue baggy trousers, white woollen gaiters, raw-hide shoes, a scarlet jacket heavily braided with gold, and a small round cap, with black silk around the edge and the crown of the same colour as the jacket, bearing the Prince's initials in Servian letters, "H.I." The women, who are particularly good-looking, wear dark skirts, beautifully hand-embroidered blouses, and a kind of long coat, with open sleeves of soft, dove-grey cloth. Forbidden to wear European hats, they are compelled to adopt an exactly similar cap to the men, except that the crown is embroidered instead of bearing the royal initials. Nowhere have I seen such glorification of the male as in Montenegro. To the men, born fighters as they are, work is undignified; therefore the women toil while the opposite sex look on. I saw women employed in building operations and performing work which, in other countries, is left to day- labourers. Cettinje is quaint in the extreme. The only houses of foreigners are the various Legations, and the only foreigners are diplomats with their wives and families. The first thing that strikes the stranger is the number of petroleum tins. Opposite the hotel I saw a great ring of empty tins, numbering some hundreds, ranged around a fountain. A few women were squatting gossiping, and an armed policeman lounged against the water-source. On inquiry, I found that there was a water famine, and the tins had been placed there at dawn to await the moment when the authorities thought fit to allow the people to get their daily supply. The women had gone away to work, and would return later. The Monte- negrins a short time ago constructed a reservoir, but there was a crack in it, so the water ran away. Hence the famine. The petroleum tin is never out of sight for a single moment in Cettinje. At any hour, and in any street, you see women and children carrying them. They are used for everything, from milk-pails to flower-pots. In Cettinje one comes for the first time up against the dark-faced, scowling Albanian in his tightly fitting trousers of white wool striped with black, his dirty white fez, and the swagger of superiority in his gait. He is well armed, and for a good reason. The Montenegrin hates the Albanian, because of the constant border feuds over at Podgoritza, where blood is constantly spilt, and where I have seen a Montenegrin in the market squatting over a basket of apples with a loaded rifle. That morning I was chatting to a man in Montenegrin dress, of whom I had bought some excellent cigarettes, manufactured by the Montenegro Tobacco Monopoly-an Italian syndicate, by the way and happened to mention that I was on my way to Albania. "Ah, gospodin!" he exclaimed, holding up both his hands, and glancing at the revolver in my belt. "Take my advice. Don't go into Albania or Macedonia. You are not safe there from one moment to the other. For half a word they'll shoot you dead as easily as they drink a glass of wine. No man's life is worth a moment's purchase there. I'm Albanian myself from Kroja-and I know." This was scarcely reassuring. I looked about me on every hand as I strolled through Cettinje. All was so quiet, so orderly, so very peaceful there, even though the big, burly mountaineers in the gold-laced jackets eyed me with askance as I passed. Not without some trepidation I took a number of photographs, for I had heard that, like the Turk, the Monte- negrin was averse to having his counterfeit presentment put upon paper. Nevertheless, the first feeling of insecurity having passed, I very soon found myself quite at home in Cettinje, and in the midst of very good and kind friends. A good many foreigners come up from Cattaro to pry about Cettinje for a day or two, buy picture-postcards and antique arms, sneer at the honest Montenegrin, and return into Dalmatia. Towards such, the Montenegrin is not par- ticularly polite. But those who go to Cettinje to seriously and thoroughly study the people and their future will find a great deal of genuine and charming hospitality. My first day in Cettinje was lonely. Afterwards, until I left, I was always with friends and officials, who took the greatest trouble to answer my questions and explain matters. Montenegro is entirely unlike any other country in the world. Its air of antiquity is particularly pleasing, while on every hand the beneficent rule of Prince Nicholas is apparent. Every man in Montenegro swears by his Prince, whom he almost worships. They call him their "father," and if His Royal Highness raised the standard of war to- morrow, every man would rise and fight to the death. The Prince is accessible to all his people-more so to them, indeed, than to the diplomats. Sometimes, early in the morning, he will sit in an arm-chair on the steps leading to the entrance of his palace, and there hear the complaints or petitions of his people. In this patriarchal way he often ministers justice. Last year he granted Montenegro a Constitution, and there is now a Skupshtina similar to that of Servia; but the people have not yet quite understood that in future they must go to the Ministers, and not to their Prince. They will see him, and nobody else. In no country is loyalty and patriotism so strong as in Montenegro. The army is well trained, and the whole country being one huge natural fortress, a foreign enemy would experience enormous difficulty in gaining entrance. In Cettinje, even a constant traveller like myself meets with continual surprises. One day, while walking at the rear of the Bigliardo, or old palace-so called because when built the first billiard table was introduced-I heard the sound of clanking chains behind me. At first I took no notice, but as it continued with regular rhythm I glanced behind, when, to my amaze- ment, I saw a convict in leg-fetters with difficulty taking his afternoon stroll beneath the trees! There were several others on the grass plot before the prison, idling in the shadow or gossiping with their friends, who had come to keep them company! Inquiriesshowed that most of these prisoners were murderers, not for robbery but for vendetta. In Montenegro the blood- feud is constant, and life is held very cheap. It invariably commences by jealousy, and is of everyday occurrence. Two lovers quarrel, and one is shot. Then the blood-feud commences, and unlike in Italy or other Southern countries, the vendetta is not only upon the murderer, but upon his next-of-kin. Therefore, if the assassin escapes into Servia, Bosnia, or Turkey, as he so often does, the brother of the dead man takes up the feud and kills the assassin's brother without parley when next he meets him. I myself saw a man shot dead one night in Ryeka, at the head of the Lake of Scutari, and the murderer walked coolly away undeterred. It was the blood-feud, and no one took much notice. "S'bogom!" (God be with you!) It is the expression you hear on every hand in the Balkans. In the streets the peasants touch their round caps in salute and exclaim, "S'bogom!" When you leave for a journey and when you return, when you rise and when you go to rest; even if you go for a short walk-it is the same. Life is so uncertain in those wild regions that the protection of the Almighty is invoked upon you always, and your revolver is ever ready in your belt. In Cettinje I had a faithful guide and servant, a black-eyed, somewhat sinister-looking Albanian, named Palok. He travelled with me through Montenegro and Albania, and was most faithful and devoted. Besides Albanian and Serb he spoke a little Italian, and possessed a keen sense of humour. One day, while we were travelling through the wild, bare mountain, a perfect wilderness of huge boulders without a single tree or even blade of grass, we halted for our midday meal, and while eating he told me of a great friend of his who had recently been killed at Spuz for vendetta, and he added, fondling the butt of his revolver, "I too, gospodin, shall die before long." I looked at him in surprise. His usually humorous face had changed. It was dark and thoughtful, and his black eyes were fixed upon me. "Is there a blood-feud upon you, then?" I asked, in surprise. "Yes," he replied briefly; and though I endeavoured to persuade him to tell the story, it was not until the following day that with some reluctance he explained. "A year ago my brother Tef, away in Scutari, fell in love with a beautiful girl. He had a rival-a young Albanian, a coppersmith in the bazaar. They quarrelled, but the girl-ah! she was very beautiful-preferred Tef. Where- upon the rival one night took his rifle and laid in wait for my brother in the main street of Scutari. Early in the evening he left the house of the girl's father, and as he passed the fellow shot poor Tef dead." And he paused as his brow knit deeply, and his teeth were set tightly. "Well?" I asked. "Well, gospodin. What would you have done had your own brother died a dog's death? I took a rifle, and within a week the murderer was in his grave. I shot him through the heart and then I left Scutari." "And you are safe here, in Montenegro ?" "Safe! Oh dear, no," he answered. "One day-it may be to-day-the fellow's brother will kill me. He must kill me. It is Fate-why worry about it? It does one no good." And the marked man, the man doomed to die at a moment when he least expects it, rolled a cigarette and lit it with perfect resignment. "And are you not afraid to go with me back to Scutari?" I asked, amazed at his fearlessness. "Afraid, gospodin!" he exclaimed, looking at me in reproach as his hand instinctively wandered to his weapon. "Afraid! No Albanian is afraid of the blood-feud. I have killed the murderer, and his brother must kill me. It is our law." And the doomed man smiled gravely. "And the girl?" I asked. "Ah! They are all the same," he answered, with a quick shrug of the shoulders. "A month ago she married a tobacco- seller a man old enough to be her father. Poor Tef! If he could but know!" "And the blood-feud still continues?" "Of course-until I am dead." Then Palok smoked on in silence, entirely resigned to the fate that awaits him. He knows that one day, as he walks along the road, the sharp crack of a hidden rifle will sound, and he will fall to earth, another victim of a woman's fickleness. S'bogom! God be with you! CHAPTER II AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS The Palace at Cettinje-A cigarette with the Prince-The policy of Monte- negro-A confidential chat-His Royal Highness's admiration for England-His views upon Macedonia-He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania, but I persuade him to help me-His Highness's kindness -Souvenirs. HIS Royal Highness the Prince will be pleased to grant you private audience at four o'clock this after- noon, gospodin." The tall, burly aide-de-camp in the little round cap, high boots, pale blue overcoat, and pistols in his belt, saluted, and we shook hands. It was then three o'clock, and I was just about to go out to visit Madame Constantinovitch, the mother of Princess Mirko. So I had to return at once to my room and dress for the audience. The kings and princes of the Balkans have a habit of summoning one at a moment's notice, and paying visits at unearthly hours. Here, in Cettinje, in the heart of these wild, desolate fast- nesses, one seems so far removed from European influence, yet how great a part has this rocky, impregnable country, with its fierce soldier-inhabitants, played in the politics of Eastern Europe, and how great a part it is still destined to play in the near future! The fact that everybody is armed gives the stranger an uncanny feeling. The man who brings one's coffee wears a perfect arsenal of weapons in his sash, and one quickly acquires the habit of carrying a revolver one's self. Indeed, if you are wise, you will carry a good serviceable weapon from the moment you enter the Balkans to the moment you quit them. But if you approach the Albanian frontier, you will be at once warned not to fire without just cause. A few shots is sufficient to alarm the whole neighbourhood for many miles, and on hearing the alarm every man seizes his rifle and flies to the rendezvous, fully equipped and eager for the fight with those Albanian border tribes, of whom I afterwards had the good fortune to be the guest. I had already had a long chat with Prince Danilo, the Crown Prince of Montenegro, whom I found a very smart and highly educated man, fully alive to the political difficulties of the neighbouring states and the necessity of Montenegro preserving her independence. He held very strong views upon the terrible state of affairs in Macedonia, and gave me many interesting details about his own country. Having met him, and also his younger brother, Prince Mirko, I was particularly anxious to make the acquaintance of their father, Prince Nicholas, the ruler of the sturdy, warlike dwellers of the "Land of the Black Mountain "-the principal and most striking figure in this remarkable country, where peace and war walk ever hand-in-hand. Since 1860, when his uncle, Prince Danilo, was assassinated, he has ruled justly, if somewhat sternly, and has succeeded in raising his nation from a state of semi-civilisation to the high place it now occupies in the Eastern world. In 1888 he gave the country a Civil and Criminal Code, and last year he granted a Constitution. Indeed, he has done all in his power to induce his warriors to follow the arts of peace without forgetting those of war. At the hour appointed, the royal aide-de-camp called in a carriage and drove me to the Palace, a long, dark brown building of somewhat plain exterior, as befits the home of a fighting race, where I was received in the great hall by half a dozen bowing servants in scarlet and gold. Here I was met by the chamberlain, who conducted me up the grand staircase and into the great audience-chamber, with its many fine paintings and highly polished floor. Then, after a moment, the Prince-a brilliant figure-entered, shook me by the hand, and welcomed me to Montenegro. These formalities ended, His Royal Highness said in Italian, "Come, let us go into yonder room. We shall be able to talk there more comfortably." And he led me into a smaller chamber, where he gave me a seat at the table where he sat. The afternoon was gloomy, and dusk was creeping on, therefore upon the table a great antique silver candelabra had been set, and by its light I was enabled to obtain a good view of the ruler of Crnagora, the "Land of the Black Mountain." Of magnificent physique, tall, muscular, with hair slightly grey, he bore his sixty-five years lightly. Attired in the splendid national costume of scarlet, blue, and gold, with high boots, he wore a single decoration at his throat, the Cross of Danilo, of which Order he is Master. Upon his hand- some, well-cut features the candles shed a soft light, causing the gold upon his dress to glitter, and I noticed, as I asked him questions, how his dark, keen eyes shot quick, inquiring glances of alertness. After the first few minutes of regal formality His Highness's manner entirely changed. Putting ceremony aside, he pro- duced his cigarette case of crocodile skin, with the royal crown and cipher in gold in the corner-offered me a Montenegrin cigarette, took one himself, lit mine with his own hand, and then we fell to chatting. In the delightful hour and a half we smoked together I asked the prince-poet many questions, and learnt many things. He explained several difficult points in Balkan politics, which to me, an Englishman, had always been puzzling. We spoke in Italian of Macedonia and of a certain well-known foreign diplomat in London who was our mutual friend, the Prince giving me a very kind message to deliver to him. Presently I referred to the splendid result of his rule, and related to him a little incident which had occurred to me in Nyegush a few days before, as showing how deeply he was beloved by his nation. A smile crossed his fine open countenance as he replied simply, "I have done my best for my people-my very best; and I shall do so as long as God gives me life. I am happy to believe that my people appreciate my efforts." "And now, Monseigneur," I asked, "will you tell me what is the present position of Montenegro?" "The present position is peace," was his prompt answer. "I have granted a Constitution, and the first meeting of the new Skupshtina has been held successfully. Though the Albanian question is always with us, I am thankful to say we are on the most excellent terms with Turkey, while towards Russia we are pursuing our traditional policy. For the Emperor Francis Josef of Austria I have nothing but the most profound admiration, and I owe very much to him." "And towards England, Monseigneur ?" "England has been, as you know, Montenegro's very best friend," replied the Prince. "I, personally, have the greatest respect and admiration for your great country. We Montenegrins always remember that it was Mr. Gladstone who gave us the strip of seaboard on the Adriatic with Dulcigno. He was our greatest friend, and his memory is respected by admirer by every man in Montenegro. Of Tennyson, too, I am a great I am very fond of his poems." "You are a poet yourself, Monseigneur," I remarked, remembering that more than one poetical drama from his pen had been successfully produced on the stage. His Royal Highness smiled, and puffed slowly at his cigarette. "I have written one or two little things, it is true; but nothing of late." "I wonder if I dare ask your Royal Highness to write a few lines for me as a souvenir of my visit?" I asked, not without some trepidation. "Ah!-well-I won't promise," he laughed. "All depends whether I'm in the mood for it." "But you will try, won't you? And the Prince nodded assent. Then we spoke of Servia and of recent events there; but he was not inclined to discuss the question, and naturally so, when it is remembered that his daughter was the late wife of King Peter. Returning to the burning question of Macedonia, I saw that he was well informed of all that was transpiring around lakes Presba and Ochrida and down in Serres. "It is a monstrous state of affairs," he declared. "Something must be done at once, for as soon as spring comes again the massacres will increase." "But there are outrages, tortures, and massacres every day," I remarked. "Ah yes," he sighed, "I know. Most terrible details have reached me lately. But you are going to Macedonia yourself, and you will see with your own eyes." "And what, in your opinion, would be the best settlement of the question?" I inquired. "There is but one way, namely, for the Powers to call a conference and place Macedonia under a governor - general, who must be a European prince. The reforms would then be carried out, and the Greek bands expelled from the country. How long will Europe tolerate the present frightful state of affairs?" "The fact is, Monseigneur, that we, in England, are very ignorant of the true state of things, or even of the facts of the Macedonian question," I said. "Ah, there you are quite correct. If your English public knew what was really happening-how an innocent Christian population is being slaughtered and exterminated because of international rivalry-they would cry shame upon those responsible for this wholesale murder and outrage. But" -he smiled-" I almost forget myself. My position as a ruler forbids me to talk politics, you know!" And we laughed together. "So you are going to Servia, Bulgaria, Roumania, and to Constantinople-eh?" he remarked a little later, when we had lit fresh cigarettes. "In Bulgaria, and also in Roumania, you will see many things that will interest you. The Bul- garians are very strongly armed, and so are the Roumanians." "Her Majesty the Queen of Roumania has also promised me audience," I said. "When you see her, will you please present to Her Majesty my most cordial respects. She is so very charming." "I want, Monseigneur, to visit Northern Albania, leaving Montenegro by Ryeka and Scutari. Would that be the best route, do you think?" "What!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Do you actually contemplate visiting the tribes up in the Accursed Mountains?" "Certainly. Why not?" "Well, my advice is, don't think of going there. If you do, you will never return. You'll be shot at sight, like a dog. You have no idea what those uncivilised tribes are like. The whole country is utterly lawless." "So I understand. But I've also heard that the Albanian possesses a deep sense of honour. And I thought that I might possibly obtain permission from one or other of the chiefs." The Prince was silent for a moment. Then, looking at me across the table, said- "Do not go. It is far too great a risk." His advice was the same that my, friends in London had given me; the same that I had received there, in the market-place of Cettinje. But I was determined, and pressed His Royal Highness to assist me, at last receiving his promise of help. By his kind permission, the Albanian named Palok acted as my guide, and what eventually happened to me in that wild region will be seen in the following pages. "Well," exclaimed the Prince at last, "if you go up there, it must be at your own risk. I've warned you of the danger. No one has been up there for many years. It has been at- tempted, of course, but travellers have either been held to ransom, and the Turks have been compelled to pay for their release, or else they have simply been shot by the first Albanian meeting them. The country beyond Scutari is the most unsafe in the whole Balkan Peninsula." I replied that I intended to make the attempt. "Well, then, I wish you buon viaggio," he laughed. "May every good luck attend you, and as we say in Montenegro - S'bogom! (God be with you!) When you return for I suppose you will pass this way down to the sea-come and see me, and tell me all about the Skreli and Kastrati country -for of course I am highly interested. They are always at war with our people on the frontier." "I will let your Royal Highness know the moment I am back in Cettinje," I promised. Then rising, he gripped my hand warmly, saying- "Then I will help you if I can. Be careful of yourself, for I shall be anxious about you. Again, S'bogom!" And the Prince accompanied me to the head of the grand staircase, where I made my obeisance, turned and descended through the rows of armed and bowing servants ranged in the hall, charmed by His Royal Highness's graciousness towards me and by the pleasant chat I had enjoyed. When, after my journey through Northern Albania, I one afternoon re-entered that audience-chamber, and he came forward with outstretched hand to greet me, he exclaimed- "Well, well! I am so glad to see you back safe and sound. You look a little thinner in the face a little travel-worn- eh? Life in the Albanian mountains is not like your life in London or Paris, is it? But never mind as long as you are safe," he laughed, placing his hand kindly upon my shoulder. "Come along to this room. It is more cosy," and he led me to the smaller apartment, his own private cabinet. For nearly two hours I sat relating to him what occurred on my journey, and describing the wild country which had, until then, been practically a sealed book. Even though Cettinje is so near, hardly anything was known of the Skreli, the Hoti, the Klementi, or the Kastrati tribes, save that they were brigandish bands who constantly raided the Montenegrin frontier. The Prince listened to me with great attention, and put many questions to me as we smoked together. Then rising, he took from a drawer in his great writing- table a small scarlet box, and as he opened it he bestowed upon me a compliment undeserved, for he said - "There are few men who would have risked what you have done. Therefore I wish to invest you with our Order of Danilo, as a mark of my appreciation and esteem." And he displayed to me the beautiful dark blue and white enamelled cross of the Order, the same that he was wearing at his throat, surmounted by the royal crown and suspended upon the white ribbon edged with cerise. After he had invested me with the Order, saying many kind things to me, which I really don't think I deserved, he added- "The chef du chancellerie will send you the diploma in due course, and I trust, when you petition your own gracious Sovereign King Edward, that His Majesty will allow you to wear this insignia." I thanked His Royal Highness, gripped his hand, and a few minutes later passed through the line of bowing servants out of the Palace. And that same evening I received from His Royal Highness the signed photograph which appears in these pages. Before I left Cettinje I received the following expressive lines, written especially for me by a Montenegrin poet who is a great personage, but whose name he would not permit me to give. They are in Servian as follows, and I have placed their English translation below :- S' veledušnog Albiona Pružiše se dvije ruke Crnoj Gori da pomogu U junačke njene muke S' vrućom rječu na ustima Gladston diže Crnogorce A Tenison za najprve U svijet ih broi borce Na glas svoih Velikana Britanski se narod trže Da pomože da zaštiti Crnu Goru iz najbrže Posla svoje bojne ladje Sto na tečnost gospostvuju Veledušno da zaštite Domovinu milu Moju O fala ti po sto puta Blagorodni lyudi Soju Dok je svjeta dok je greda Nad Ulcinjem koje stoju Hraniće ti blagodarnost Ova šaka sokolova Koima si u pomoci Stiga putem od valova. The literal translation in English is as follows:- From the great-souled Albion, Two arms were stretched To help Montenegro In her heroic sufferings. With fiery word on his lips Gladstone lifts up Montenegrins, Whilst Tennyson declared them The very first fighters in the world. On the call of their great men, British people rose up In quickest manner, to help And to protect Montenegro. They despatched their war-ships, Which rule over the seas, Generously to protect My Fatherland so dear to me. Oh! thanks to thee, hundredfold thanks, Noble race of men. As long as the world lasts, As long as the mountains above Dulcigno stand, Will remain grateful to thee, This handful of falcons, To whose help thou didst come By the road of the waves. - An Observer in the Near East - William Le Queux. Publisher, E. Nash, 1907. \** https://preview.redd.it/jg36zlvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=eacb8abc6368963f81177eefecbd44642c09cd97 https://preview.redd.it/7lh8gmvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=225f2bc1649240bfe5c57e72dfdaf93f28938bb7 https://preview.redd.it/2lvn8hwu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6677bcd6e7d76a5f229b5ea7e61c9f0a5596ea47 https://preview.redd.it/pgqltmvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e4acf257abe5f0223c62635ecd9ac2a4f5e9614e https://preview.redd.it/xktn0ovu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=14d6087bbc6b3028c40e6e978674d470e23fab35 https://preview.redd.it/4zps2mvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=51e5049c7cbbc1fc455754e40e04c9b2c9a124e0 https://preview.redd.it/9qr2xrwu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=48f98198cad524a0157100b60325e72d6b2f1770 https://preview.redd.it/ywzpenvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7118b6072a634d6ccce1b96eaab6bebbf987e194 https://preview.redd.it/9h2y0mvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=966897fbdcca422eee9ff410852bcd8cbe89d1ae https://preview.redd.it/07po9ovu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f8a078de6ef8ffc1808160270e46329f3a097d21 https://preview.redd.it/n89tenvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ea8a9fee167bb25b07ec3137bd235d600cb9dbe4 https://preview.redd.it/vv7knswu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=aa295c8644a75b5f5a5050bf0795875f9925c3b5 https://preview.redd.it/q1jxpnvu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8d7431b419b1f5c1a33dba099465285fc5ed5297 https://preview.redd.it/w44qbfwu1nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e18314ac2a333efe0b2d9301f7fba3c6d40b12f4 https://preview.redd.it/mclcb6tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=90e4b7fedc3b3d63ee33c7c2cbd1b990a60203f3 https://preview.redd.it/qf6829tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=97e01c85545926178ccddbaee3ef4d96f2052201 https://preview.redd.it/5rqaz5tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b90176f3da386c7875f33301b02806cbfd8ec2c1 https://preview.redd.it/702o47tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7f3fe6bbf9e492105e72f1a551d902ec74218d03 https://preview.redd.it/bloxg8ug2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0b3d48034feb0a9f8f192e91df103a0308991c8b https://preview.redd.it/a2jhb8tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bb9a7fbfbce7700a06aa50574a786668dd321727 https://preview.redd.it/jgiqu6tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ec2b5af58c8e25428d0c39550ed54d71e6c9188c https://preview.redd.it/ud3kc5tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=73dd2e0d96ef1cae5d9d934234db8f886b543e83 https://preview.redd.it/59uib9tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9b319597ac2f654c036eddec48c29e9ad539bebb https://preview.redd.it/8ahdu6tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=1ccad4eec7cb2a6ec943633f09df5e4c6368e21a https://preview.redd.it/iat3u8ug2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=dd80620268744a4d40a5d90aa291c5c56a5f64a9 https://preview.redd.it/ix1wp7tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0167cb5340b66f879442cdee00459649a31d8400 https://preview.redd.it/6p3tr6tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ff95f8f74a7a65050a8abd518f321a186425ff92 https://preview.redd.it/iqvfy6tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b0216c5b990fc3f44ac5b266cd3838b2830b295b https://preview.redd.it/d94is8tg2nzc1.jpg?width=465&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=74c14118e9431762a63800f3f25ed864ea637e52 |
2024.05.08 10:37 Ok_Interaction2231 Was I (19F) wrong by addressing boyfriend’s (19M) past relationship in this way?
2024.05.07 17:09 deistic-nutcase Sufism: A Proponent of Offensive Jihad
I'm posting this because Sufis are often a neglected sect in Islam, and are not give as much attention as such. Its important to understand that even Sufis believe in offensive Jihad, and that they are not pacifists. submitted by deistic-nutcase to exmuslim [link] [comments] QAŞĪDAH BURDAH CHAPTER 8: JIHĀDImām Abū Ábdullāh Muĥammad ibn Saýīd al-Būşīrī al-Shādhilī [608-696 AH / 1213-1295 CE] devoted the eighth chapter of his poem to the Jihād of RasūlAllāh ﷺ. This makes clear that the true Sufis did not reject Jihād and were not pacifists. He writes (original Arabic Text below, this is a translation): “The news of his being sent alarmed the hearts of the foes, Just like a roar causing heedless sheep to startle and flee. He kept courageously facing them at each battlefield, Till they were butchered by spears like meat in a butchery. They longed to flee so much that they watched the parts carried off By buzzards and vultures in a state of near jealousy. The nights would pass with them unaware the number of them, Except the nights of the Sacred Months of tranquility. As if religion had been a guest arrived at their yard, With every nobleman craving meat of the enemy. It brought an ocean of troops on gracefully-floating steeds, Advancing waves made of heroes, surging successively. Each in response to the call of God, in hope of reward, Attacking armed to uproot and shatter idolatry. Until the Faith of Islam, with them among it, became— Once having been foreign—now a unified family.. Protected forever from them by the best father and Best husband, so not an orphan or a widow is she. They are the mountains, so ask about them their battle-foe, At every battle, the things from them that he used to see. And ask Hunayn, question Badr, and even ask Uhud, too— Events of death for them, worse than plague in catastrophe. Returning white blades now turned to crimson after they reached The fighters with flowing hair of black from the enemy.Inscribing with spears of Lettering, their pens didn’t leave A body line with undotted i, and crossed every t.. With sharpened weapons they had a mark to set them apart; A rose is set by its mark apart from a thorny tree. The victory winds convey to you the sweet news of them; So flowers in bloom you’d reckon every soldier to be They were in horseback like firmly-rooted plants up on hills— From grit so solid, not girth of saddle held solidly. The enemies’ hearts were fluttering in fear of their force, Unable to tell a lamb apart from brave cavalry.. Whoever is aided by the Messenger of Allah, If lions meet him inside their woods, they bow silently. You will not see any saint that isn’t victorious Through him, nor any opponent not destroyed utterly. He put his nation to dwell inside the fort of his faith; Like lion dwelling inside the forest with progeny. How often the words of God refuted the quarrelsome About him! How often proof defeated the enemy! Enlightenment in the one unread is wonder enough, In Age of Darkness; and good upbringing in orphancy.” https://preview.redd.it/6zr8psgnr0zc1.png?width=372&format=png&auto=webp&s=7dc91cede94355f53217df61f5b2c565196c6033 https://preview.redd.it/n4w1cmgor0zc1.png?width=373&format=png&auto=webp&s=0dcc7aee6ad4cc183612230a8fa3778478d4a3fe https://preview.redd.it/buduxl1pr0zc1.png?width=373&format=png&auto=webp&s=d7d047707245610c0dfd7cbf0e37d5f25206f195 https://preview.redd.it/fu6oyejpr0zc1.png?width=371&format=png&auto=webp&s=7266a3e164e79824dab87fabb41356e58963c044 A maghribī manuscript of dalā'il al-khayrāt, authored by the moroccan sufi saint imām jazūlī [d. 870 ah / 1465 ce]In the section in which the names of Muhammad are recorded, some among them are:
https://preview.redd.it/qtnihlxyr0zc1.png?width=768&format=png&auto=webp&s=dbb29660a25aaef6a0dc9d43d180d9a47a947530 In part 7, commonly recited on Sundays: He undertook the burden of the message, saved creation from ignorance, carried out jihād against the people of kufr and misguidance, called to your tawhīd, and endured hardships in guiding your slaves.https://preview.redd.it/h520rr34s0zc1.png?width=653&format=png&auto=webp&s=e67e555abee8a2a61815aab79e57ad48f1f926ca Also in part 7, he is described as:
And that he: Made the path clear, counselled creation, made islām known, broke the idols, manifested judgments, forbade the harām, and spread blessingsAscetics such as Ibrahim ibn Adham (d. 778) and Abdullah ibn al-Mubarak (d. 797) “provided the principal models for depicting Sufis as bold mujahids,” according to Harry Neale, who authored a book on early Sufi warrior saints. https://preview.redd.it/01135mpgs0zc1.png?width=376&format=png&auto=webp&s=d5bb968b4a37a3c0df20aa65ccbc2071ec269378 I found a very peaceful and tolerant quote from a Sufí scholar: “Presented with the choice of giving water to a thirsty infidel or to a dog, a believer should make the offering to the dog.” - Ahmad Raza Khan (Sunni Sufi scholar & founder of Barelvi Movement) ~ p 146, Partisans of Allah: Jihad in South Asia by Ayesha Jalal https://preview.redd.it/dg76kx5qs0zc1.png?width=380&format=png&auto=webp&s=593e96a506691fba9b7d35ba6e6088928a90cb08 https://preview.redd.it/mm61y7wqs0zc1.png?width=332&format=png&auto=webp&s=f6f0a672d90760f8b91172dddcbfa424ccd16dba |
2024.05.06 17:51 YezenIRL (Spoilers Extended) The second dance of the dragons is about god and divorce
Well of course the two outlying ones, the things going on north at the wall, and Daenerys Targaryen on the other continent with her dragons, are of course the ice and fire of the title, a song of ice and fire. The central stuff, the stuff that's happening in the middle in King's Landing, is much more based on historical events, historical fiction, it's loosely drawn from the war of the roses and some of the other conflicts around the hundred years war, although of course with a fantasy twist.Yet the way the story has developed, the ice is coming before the fire. Once the Long Night comes, Dany can no longer be perceived as a threat because the Others pose a common enemy. This is why I believe the story will show us a split timeline.
One of the dynamics I started with there was the sense of people being so consumed by their petty struggles for power within King's Landing that they're blind to the much greater threats happening far away on the periphery of their kingdoms. And of course you can see that all through history...
~ GRRM
"People say I was influenced by Robert Ford’s poem, and of course I was, I mean... Fire is love, fire is passion, fire is sexual ardor and all of these things. Ice is betrayal, ice is revenge, ice is… you know, that kind of cold inhumanity and all that stuff is being played out in the books." ~ GRRMLike in the poem, the threat of the Others is about hatred. The Others are the revenge of the Children of the Forest. Also like the poem, the threat of dragons will be about love and desire. Dragons are a manifestation of Dany's desire to liberate and conquer, but also her quest for love and belonging.
"Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire." ~ Jon II, ADWDThe kingdom is saved from ice and then it must be saved from fire. From love, desire, and dragons.
Tyrion considered saying something, then thought better. It seemed to him that the prophecy that drove the red priests had room for just one hero. A second Targaryen would only serve to confuse them. ~ Tyrion VIII, ADWDPeople often speculate that Aegon will steal Dany's thunder in Westeros and drive her to jealousy and madness, but currently Aegon is the one who is insecure about being less accomplished. For people in Essos, Daenerys Targaryen is the messiah, but Aegon is just a boy.
"No." The eunuch's voice seemed deeper. "He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them." ~ Epilogue, ADWDI know that the dynamic I'm putting forward here isn't new, but this doesn't work in the middle of the Long Night, nor does it make sense after. A dragonless Aegon Targaryen cannot prove his legitimacy, nor survive the Others, nor call himself protector of the realm.
To thwart him White Harbor must have Ned's son … and the direwolf. The wolf will prove the boy is who we say he is, should the Dreadfort attempt to deny him. ~ Davos IV, ADWDBut in another timeline where he brings a (green) dragon, Aegon will have the proof he needs to pull off a Targaryen restoration.
You are liberators! You have freed the people of King's Landing from the grip of a tyrant. But the war is not over. We will not lay down our spears until we have liberated all the people of the world. From Winterfell to Dorne, from Lannisport to Qarth, from the Summer Isles to the Jade Sea! Men, women, and children have suffered too long beneath the wheel. Will you break the wheel with me?I understand that D&D treat Dany's ending without much nuance, aiming to paint her in the most fascist light possible. And I understand that for many, this scene is simply a reflection of D&D's fear of women and brown people (I'm Palestinian, I get it). However, I think it's cope to argue D&D pulled this out of nowhere. A global jihad to liberate the world is very much setup in the books.
~Shownerys Targaryen
"Benerro has sent forth the word from Volantis. Her coming is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. From smoke and salt was she born to make the world anew. She is Azor Ahai returned … and her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end … death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn …" ~ Tyrion VI, ADWDThe Red Temple are gearing up for a holy war across Essos. After Dany helps them topple slavery and take control of Volantis, the Red Priests will seek to take control of the neighboring Free Cities. Dany doesn't need to become a R'hllor fundamentalist to allow this (and she won't), she simply needs to accept it as part of the anti-slavery crusade. After all...
Tyrion pondered all he knew of Volantis, oldest and proudest of the Nine Free Cities. Something was awry here. Even with half a nose, he could smell it. "It's said there are five slaves for every free man in Volantis. Why would the triarchs assist a queen who smashed the slave trade?" He pointed at Illyrio. "For that matter, why would you? Slavery may be forbidden by the laws of Pentos, yet you have a finger in that trade as well, and maybe a whole hand. And yet you conspire for the dragon queen, and not against her. Why? What do you hope to gain from Queen Daenerys?" ~ Tyrion III, ADWDWhile Aegon proceeds to conquer Westeros by appealing to the ruling class, Dany's forces will carry out an anti-slavery crusade across the Free Cities. This crusade will not only abolish slavery, but will topple the ruling class and spread R'hllor, threatening both the aristocracy and the church, who fear the same in Westeros. Aegon might demand that she stop, but he'd have no power in Essos, where people are loyal to the black dragon, not the green.
Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died." ~ Arianne I, TWOWWhen the dance is done, Dany will be victorious. But the collateral damage will be catastrophic, with countless civilian casualties as well as the death of Rhaegal. The quest will have turned her into the villain of the story she was raised on. The tragedy of the mother of dragons is that she becomes the usurper and kills her own child.
The second Dance of Dragons does not have to mean Dany's invasion. George stopped himself short and said he shouldn't say anymore. ~ SSMI think he said that because it doesn't. Daenerys will come to Westeros, but we're not getting two consecutive Targaryen invasions, because why on earth would we need that?
The whispers became a swirling song. . . . three fires must you light . . . one for life and one for death and one to love ~ Daenerys IV, ACOKThe second fire is not King's Landing. It's in Volantis. The fire for death will be Dany burning the Old Blood behind their Black Walls. The show depicts this as the burning of the khals, which is followed by people worshiping her as the messiah (also adapted from Volantis). In addition to being proclaimed Azor Ahai in Volantis, Daenerys will also take up the mantle of the Stallion Who Mounts the World in Vaes Dothrak. This is a clear historical parallel to Genghis Khan, who's ambition to conquer the world was also justified as being the will of god. Just like the show, the books are building up to a situation where all of Dany's loyalists are from Essos, her destiny is perceived as being divinely ordained, and her downfall prevents a crusade to "remake the world."
That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened. ~ Daenerys III, ASOSIn the Long Night, the Daenerys story will be close to fantasy. She'll come to Westeros as a messiah, and characters will perceive her as a light in the darkness that gives humanity a fighting chance. She doesn't need to bring her army for this, she just needs to use her fire to empower the people of the Seven Kingdoms to fight for their own lives.
"When I went to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones to beg the Pureborn for your life, I said that you were no more than a child," Xaro went on, "but Egon Emeros the Exquisite rose and said, 'She is a foolish child, mad and heedless and too dangerous to live.' When your dragons were small they were a wonder. Grown, they are death and devastation, a flaming sword above the world." He wiped away the tears. "I should have slain you in Qarth." ~ Daenerys III, ADWDIn the second timeline, the Daenerys story will be political. She'll come to Westeros as a "messiah", and characters will perceive her as a destroyer of worlds. A tyrant queen bringing foreign savages to topple their way of life. For Dany the challenge will be political, not military. It will revolve around dealing with a nobility that refuse to bend to her will.
"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land." (...)Whether Dany's landing is greatness or madness actually is in the hands of some god, and that god is the storyteller. Whether that storyteller is Bran or Sam or George, or even you the reader, the point is to reconcile the duality. Great figures like Daenerys Targaryen are heroes to some and villains to others, and ultimately they are defined by the story we choose to tell about them.
"So I am a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying, ser?" ~ Daenerys VI, ASOS
2024.05.06 17:36 CommercialHot3209 He left again. So I blocked him on every platform.
2024.05.06 16:28 Heavy_Introduction15 I wrote my second poem
2024.05.04 04:36 mannie_101_ Some fair deals on Amazon to consider...
2024.05.02 17:51 FloofySkuntank Total Drama Not-Stars ep.7
For the first time there was a tied vote so I had to take ideas from both Proofracer AND ca_stellary: Last time on Total Drama Not-Stars! The two teams went head to head against their own fears. submitted by FloofySkuntank to TDEliminationTierList [link] [comments] Beardo’s fear WAS public speaking, but having spent time opening up to Harold he was able to pull through! Giving a point to the Falcons! (This is the one thing I changed for comedic value. Sorry in advance.) Tyler had his rematch with the chickens… who proceeded to walk in and pet one with ease. In a confessional Tyler admits that being stuck in a boat full of chickens was such traumatizing experience that facing a single chicken was nothing to him now. (Basically intense exposure therapy.) Rodney’s fear was being unable to see women for the rest of the day. Rodney treated this easy challenge like it was the end of the world and… actually failed. Because he saw Bridgette in the woods. Wow. Dakota also failed her fear, which was to carry a barrel of toxic waste and risk being infected again. She flat out DENIED to do this, leaving the score as one to one. Next up was Katie and Sadie who had moved past their fear of bad hair cuts too… out of… fashion clothes… sigh. Regardless it was the first time in the competition the two were able to talk since they’re on separate teams. By encouraging one another they pulled through and earned a point for their teams. Also there was Sammy who admired the bond both girls had. Sadie introduced Katie and Sammy, increasing the Sammy friend count even more. Things were going well till it was time for Amy and Sammy’s fears… being chained to one another for a full day. Unable to cause sabotages with Sammy chained to her, and unwilling to risk not getting a point for her team, Amy had to be on her “best” behavior, of course this didn’t stop her from ridiculing Sammy the whole time. Regardless of the flurry of insults, Sammy held strong, with the growing confidence thanks to her new friends she jabbed back! Earning both girls a point for their teams at the end of the day. Back at the mess hall Dawn tries to face her fear of hurting an animal by having to eat meat. Her morales, however, are too strong and she misses out on a point. Harold is ambushed by three ninjas and… actually honed his skills! Taking out all three ninja much to the shock of everyone. Brick faced his fear of the dark, and with encouragement from Dawn he was able to pull through, this touching moment was soiled when Dawn then cheered on B who had to recite a poem in front of his team. B FINALLY broke his silence and spoke, earning him a point for finishing the poem. B hugs Dawn to show his thanks and for the first time Brick feels jealousy while Dawn’s team only feels annoyance. Bridgette has a much better time being alone in the woods, only coming across wild animals and a wild Rodney, and while Rodney failed his challenge, Bridgette spends her remaining time with Rodney to keep calm, shifting his attraction to Bridgette. (Poor Sammy.) Back at camp Chris reminds Bridgette that the challenge was to be in the woods ALONE, disqualifying her from earning a point. Eva is forced into wearing the most girly clothes, you think this would have been a set back, but Eva proved she’s as tough as ever and sucked it up. Giving her team another point. Noah’s fear is revealed to be eel’s, he’s tasked with touching one. Noah admits he hates eels after being shocked by one as a kid at the beach, he also hates them because they’re gross, slimy, conniving, and dangerous like some people he knows. He can’t bring himself to touch the eel, failing to get a point for his team. Trent is tasked with defeating the mime WITHOUT running away this time. Ella and Katie cheer him on, Katie admits to Ella that she likes Trent and doesn’t feel like he notices her, she wanted to ask Ella for advice because she’s getting along with Trent. Ella for the first time in her life tells a lie, not wanting to admit to Katie that she likes Trent too, she tells Katie not to worry and that there are other Prince Charming out there, and that she gets along with Trent because of their shared love of music, hiding her affections. They watch as Trent takes a swing at the mime only for his fist to hit the box the mime trapped itself in. All three are stunned by this witchcraft and Trent justifiably forfeits. Ella is the final person to go, her fear is losing her voice, forcing her to be quiet for the rest of the day. While she doesn’t like this she is able to accomplish this and earn a point for the lizards. (Obviously this challenge would happen after her talk with Katie.) Despite both teams having three failures each, it is the Falcons who win due to having an extra player! Sending Lizards to elimination once more. Marshmallows went to Tyler, B, Ella, Katie, Amy, and Trent. While Bridgette may of fumbled her challenge at least she actually attempted hers! Giving Bridgette the final marshmallow and sending Dakota packing. It’s revealed B used his newfound ability to talk to sway Katie, Ella, and Trent in booting Dakota. It’s time for the remaining campers to face Boney Island! They’ll take their canoes, paddle to the island, carry their canoes to the other end of the island, and build a rescue fire before traveling back to the starting line for immunity. Who wins, who loses, what horrors will they face on the island? Thats for YOU to decide! |
2024.04.30 20:23 PrideUnhappy3278 A quick poem
2024.04.28 16:26 GreyWalken POEM: Best Buddy Darlings
2024.04.26 21:16 LittleSayori_6 Analysing "Your Reality"
2024.04.23 17:15 gingfreecsisbad No contact and this morning my dad sent me a whole poem about choosing to be bitter
2024.04.19 04:02 heyjoyhouse #1Love
In a world of wonder, where colors collide, I speak with a rhyme, like Dr. Seuss, with pride. I don't care about race, not one little bit, Or the gender you go by, not even a whit. submitted by heyjoyhouse to u/heyjoyhouse [link] [comments] I love everyone, with a heart full and true, No matter the race, I'll accept and value you. Whether you're tall or short, or black or white, In my eyes, you're a star shining so bright. No matter the gender, you choose to embrace, Be it male, female, or any other space, I'll stand by your side, with love in my heart, For acceptance and understanding, that's my art. And as for love, the grandest of emotions, It knows no bounds, no restrictions, no notions. Whether it's man and man, or woman and woman, Love is love, and it's a beautiful human phenomenon. So let's celebrate diversity, far and wide, With open arms, and love as our guide. For in this world, we're all part of a whole, And together, we'll create a harmonious soul. In the spirit of Dr. Seuss, let's spread the call, To love one another, and embrace one and all. For in the end, it's love that will prevail, And together, we'll create a world beyond the pale. ✍️Yours Truly, Forever and Always, Joy Anne House I've always loved Dr. Seuss. I grew up reading and absorbing his books. I thought a poem inspired by the way he writes would be a great way to show you all the way I think. 1Love |
2024.04.18 23:12 Regulus_D SHIDO MUNAN : Lowkey zen for barkeeps
2024.04.16 23:27 SpeakingAsColorsDo Poetry for GRC to get started with Gridcoin!
2024.04.06 04:11 katpoker666 [OT] Fun Trope Friday, Writing with Tropes: Wise Beyond Their Years & Adventure!