Pharaonic Pirates



Well, good afternoon, Pharaoh Ramses. You know, you really remind me of someone. Or not so much someone, as a whole nation of someones.

Due to both the Legendary Car and the Fabled Bakkie sitting immobile in the driveway – both of them with starter motor problems, what is it with Sun-and-Moon-in-Virgo anyway? –  I got to stay home and watch Captain Phillips this afternoon.

It was an interesting watch, with a stunning reversal of roles running through it all.

It’s hard not to feel empathy for the Somalians, whose coastline has been laid waste by the West and the East, and whose primary means of earning a living has been thoroughly toxified. I think that, in their shoes, I’d be out pirating ships, too.

But who are these tall,lean, gaunt-featured men speaking in a language which sounds like a cross between a Bantu tongue and Arabic? It was like watching a whole host of Pharaoh Ramses’ relatives laying siege to hulking supertankers from tiny little skiffs. Truly bizarre – the might of Pharaonic Egypt reduced to the scale of very angry, vicious little ants.

The fortunes and cycles of the world of humans is fascinating. And truly, rather sad, too.


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