Logistic Routes and the Détente

Reading an interesting article on the alignment of USSE with Siad Barré’s regime in Somalia from 1969 onwards and it has some interesting tidbits having to do with military logistics and transport.  The article by Gary Payton is standard Cold War era analysis, but this bit was of interest to me:

Throughout the I960s, three major logistic routes existed for trans- porting weaponry from the industrial centres in the western U.S.S.R. to South-East Asia. By the first route, arms loaded in ports of the Black Sea transited the Suez Canal, travelled through the Strait of Bab el Mandeb, across the Indian Ocean, and finally arrived at the ports of Sihanoukville, Cambodia, or Haiphong. With the closure of the Suez Canal in June 1967, merchant vessels were forced to steam around the African continent before entering the waters of the Indian Ocean. On the second route, weapons departed from the Siberian port complex of Vladivostok and Nakhodka and were transported south through the China Sea to the awaiting Communist armies. Finally, Vietnam-bound war material travelled along the Trans-Siberian Railway and was routed across China’s Xinjang (Sinkiang) Province for entry into the North Vietnamese rail and road system. Thus, any actions taken by the United States or China to impede the arms flow, directly challenged the Soviet strategy of entrapping the U.S. in Vietnam and forcing China to take a more conciliatory approach towards Sino-Soviet relations. (p. 496).

What I find interesting about this is that Nixon’s visit to China and the Détente could have been as much about cutting off supply lines to Vietnam as it was about China’s role itself in Vietnam.

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Labour and Capital

From Walter Rodney’s wonderful How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, this passage on the making of infrastructures in Africa:

The combination of being oppressed, being exploited, and being disregarded is best illustrated by the pattern of the economic infrastructure of African colonies : notably, their roads and railways. These had a clear geographical distribution according to the extent to which particular regions needed to be opened up to import-export activities. Where exports were not available, roads and railways had no place. The only slight exception is that certain roads and railways were built to move troops and make conquest and oppression easier. Means of communication were not constructed in the colonial period so that Africans could visit their friends. More important still, they were not laid down to facilitate internal trade in African commodities. There were no roads connecting different colonies and different parts of the same colony in a manner that made sense with regard to Africa’s needs and development. All roads and railways led down to the sea. They were built to extract gold or manganese or coffee or cotton. They were built to make business possible for the timber companies, trading companies, and agricultural concession firms, and for white settlers. Any catering to African interests was purely coincidental. Yet in Africa, labor, rather than capital, took the lion’s share in getting things done. With the minimum investment of capital, the colonial powers could mobilize thousands upon thousands of workers . Salaries were paid to the police officers and officials, and labor came into existence because of the colonial laws, the threat of force, and the use of force. Take, for instance, the building of railways. In Europe and America, railway building required huge inputs of capital. Great wage bills were incurred during construction, and added bonus payments were made to workers to get the job done as quickly as possible. In most parts of Africa, the Europeans who wanted to see a railroad built offered lashes as the ordinary wage and more lashes for extra effort.

Reference was earlier made to the great cost in African life of the ( French ) Congo railroad from Brazzaville to Pointe-Noire. Most of the intolerable conditions arc explained by the non-availability of capital in the form of equipment. Therefore, sheer manpower had to take the place of earth-moving machinery, cranes, and so on. A comparable situation was provided by the construction of the Embakasi airport of Nairobi. Because it was built during the colonial era (starting in 1 953) and with United States loans, it is customary to credit the imperialists for its existence. But it would be much more accurate to say that the people of Kenya built it with their own hands under European supervision. Embakasi, which initially covered seven square miles and had four runways, was described as “the world’s first handmade international airport.” Mau Mau suspects numbering several thousand were to be found there “laboring under armed guard at a million-ton excavation job, filling in craters, laying a half million tons of stone with nothing but shovels, stone hammers and their bare hands.” (p. 209)

And after decolonisation:

The high proportion of the “development” funds went into the colonies in the form of loans for ports, railways , electric power plants, water works , engineering works.hops, warehouses , which were necessary for more efficient exploitation in the long run. In the short run, such construction works provided outlets for European steel, concrete, electrical machinery, and railroad rolling stock. One-fifth of FIDES funds were spent on prestigious public works in Dakar, which suited French industry and employed large numbers of expatriates. Even the schools built under FIDES funds were of unnecessary high cost per unit, because they had to be of the requisite standard to provide job outlets for white expatriates . Incidentally, loans were “tied” in such a way that the money had to be spent on buying materials manufactured in the relevant metropole. The “development” funds were raised on the European money market by the governments concerned, and in effect the national metropolitan governments were providing their own bankers and financiers with guaranteed profitable outlets for their capital. In 1 956, the French government started a scheme which was a blatant form of promoting their own private capitalists while paying lip service to African development and welfare. The scheme involved the creation of an institution called SDOM (Financial Societies for the Development of Overseas Territories ). SDOM was nothing but an association of private capitalists interested primarily in the oil of North Africa, and having large government subventions to achieve their goals.  (pp. 214-215)

 

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Malta-Dubai; 27 August 2016 – Day 18, Arrival

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@Jabal Ali at Dawn.JPG

 

 

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Malta-Dubai; 26 August 2016 – Day 17, Steaming towards Hormuz

26 August

09.25 (GMT +4)

Steaming towards Hormuz Straits

The only thing that lightened the monotony yesterday was the alarm at around 10 last night. And the ridiculous conversations between the Iranian ship’s captains on channel 16 (which is supposed to be reserved for emergencies).

 

22.00 (GMT +4)

The air outside is at last bearable. Just warm, not furnace hot. It was at some stage 41 degrees outside and the water temperature was 33 degrees!

The port-side horizon is red with light pollution and the lights of Ras al Khayma and Sharjah twinkle in the distance as we make our way towards the pilot station of Jabal Ali, where we are to be met at 23.00. I have stayed up as we are apparently going to steam through the harbour to the back of Jabal Ali (a different terminal than before) which is very exciting. The captain said something about a private berth, but I am not sure what that means.

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The Milky Way is glorious, once your eyes get used to the dark. The Indian Ocean was too grey and overcast and hazy for a nighttime perusal of the sky, and before that, I was too ensconced in my routines of going to sleep at 9 to actually think about going out there to look at the sky.

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Strange how much more jaded I am this time around. I have just looked at my notes from last year and Corte Real and I was so much more attentive to all the details. I suppose my writing time this trip was spent on love-emails and book proposals, so a slightly different experience.

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Malta-Dubai; 24-25 August 2016 – Day 15-16, The Indian Ocean

24 August

09.15 (GMT+4)

Steaming in the Indian Ocean

The “rough seas” promised by the weather bulletin appeared somewhere close to 21.00 last night. It really wasn’t all that rough in any case and the rolling was more like being in a hammock. Strangely the vibrations and the rolling bring on dreams and I dream of things so intensely.

It is southwest monsoon and there is a tropical depression to the east of us. The wind is blowing from our stern and the waves are 2-3 metres high. But the ship seems quite steady as it goes.

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18.55 (GMT+4)

One of the things that I have noticed on this trip is that the seafarers all have access to internet now on their phones. I think they pay something for this, but now, can have instantaneous contact via their mobile and laptops which is different than what I remember from Corte Real (where I think their emails were sent home once a day via a satellite link). I wonder if this access to mobile phone is why the Filipino crew seem not o do karaoke parties anymore.

25 August

11.15 (GMT +4)

Steaming past Masirah Islands towards Ras al-Hadd

Sunny outside and the sea still covered with white horses, but the ship not rolling as much as before. It is still hazy outside, but not grey and the visibility further than yesterday.

Utter monotony as we steam towards Ras al-Hadd, and Hormuz Strait (where we will arrive, I think, tomorrow at 7).

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Malta-Dubai; 23 August 2016 – Day 14, the Arabian Sea

23 August

10.46 (GMT+3)

Steaming through the southern Arabian Seas – somewhere between Aden and Mukalla

What a surprise this morning when the Filipino A/B, Alexander said to me “khasteh nabashid”. Turns out he was for two years between 2009 and 2011 working on a bulker belong to IRISLN – Islamic Republic of Iran Shipping Line. The bulker went between Bandar Abbas, Bushehr and Bandar Imam Khomeini in Iran and either India or China and carried ingredients of fertilisers, especially, sulphur apparently. Alexander seemed quite sweet and mentioned how he liked the Iranian food, the chapatti-like bread, the “yellow rice”, the kababs –and here he made the motion of shaping a kubideh around the skewer. He also mentioned that the seafarers on the ship ate pork during Ramadan, and the oiler told him about discos and drinking in Tehran. The ships were mothballed at port in 2011 when the sanctions hit and Alexander moved on from Iran. But he seemed quite affectionate and not particularly complaining – except about the heat and humidity in the Iranian ports.

As for us, we are steaming through an empty sea. No fish (although Alexander said he saw dolphins at 8 this morning), no ships, no land. Not too unlike the Mediterranean, except for the fact that there are even fewer distant ships on the AIS, although the Zim ship I saw going through the Canal, Zim Qingdao, seems to appear on the AIS, though at a long distance away from us. Looking at the map of Bab al-Mandab again, I was so struck by the imperial division of territory around the strait: with Britain controlling the Asian landmass at Aden/Yemen, while the French held onto Djibouti, a sliver of land carved out of the “natural” geography/polity that surrounds it and made into a new political entity with its own control of the sea-space adjacent to it.

This morning, Lysandro was telling me about how the medical exams for seafarers are getting harder and harder and how they are measure for blood sugar, blood pressure, weight, diabetes and all sorts of other things. He mentioned that four months before going home, he would begin a diet in which he would stop eating rice and bread and other carbs so that he could lose weight. I wonder if these medical exams are indeed getting harder, or it is that Lysandro is getting older and finds it more difficult to meet their demands. Of course this in itself is also a hardship – that you have to be so young to do this job and no amount of demand on the job cancels the need to keep fit while on board.

 

17.35 (GMT +3)

After a dry spell, I have now seen an EU warship (F803) with a helicopter onboard off the coast from Mukalla. The helicopter made a circle behind the ship and landed on the deck again less than a minute later. A strange performance.

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Then, a few miles further, both flying fish and dolphins playing the water. Of the latter there were so many. And a fishing boat moving –at 4 knots, a long way –40 nautical miles– from the shore. Like the guys last year, Danilo (the A/B) and Anthony (the third officer) were trying to scare me into thinking this was going to be a pirate attack. No such chance, although Anthony did say that last November, in the Red Sea, the ship he was on was approached by two skiffs at speed on both sides and that there were 9 people altogether on the skiffs. When they approached, everyone was called to the muster stations and all but the captain and the chief hid in the citadel. Thankfully, the weather was bad and the skiffs could not catch up with the large containership Anthony was on.

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Malta-Dubai; 22 August 2016 – Day 13, Bab-al-Mandab

22 August

10.49 Ship time (GMT +3)

Steaming towards Bab al-Mandab

The Red Sea is such a wondrous sea. Volcanic activities around the Zubayr Islands. So many reefs and shoals and atolls, such depth and such harsh jagged mountains on the edges, a gash through the earth, the seam of movement of the continents perhaps, magnetic anomalies, and a kind of harsh stark beauty.

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I visited the engine room today and was given a tour by the chief engineer himself. It is a kind of inferno down there, and in the oil purifying room, where the heavy engine oil and lube oil are heated to 135 degrees (diesel does not require heating), sweated away.

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The engine itself with its twelve cylinders and the engine shaft driving the propeller is a thing of awesome beauty, with that sound of beating heart again, and the massive exhaust pipes which are then used to heat water and who knows what. So much is purified: sewage, water, oil, fuel, lube oil, bilge and on and on. So much is moved, heated or cooled. There is a formidable efficiency in the way it all works – and with so few people. Most seem to be engaged in maintenance –regular or reparative.

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There is also a kind of quaint beauty to the maintenance room with its ordinary tool and ordinary scale. When one looks at the spare parts, enormous flanges and valves, massive pieces of machinery, oiled and hot, it is rather amazing.

 

19.15 (GMT +3)

Steaming away from Bab al-Mandab

We passed Bab al Mandab at around 18.30 and are now in security zone 2 and in the pirate area. The windows of the decks have been blacked out and a red security barrier has been erected around the poop deck which is the deck closest to water at about 10 metres.

The Red Sea topography is just amazing. All these conical little islands strewn everywhere, bursting forth from the seam of the continents in the sea. Islands on both sides and the strait is so narrow that you can see both sides despite the haze and the heat. Even I with my terrible eyesight can see both sides.

Passing through the strait, my phone has been handed over from Yemeni Saba to Djibouti networks. I am amazed that the former works and welcomes me in two languages. The latter is the most expensive, with phone calls at £2.50 per minute (£1 per minute more than elsewhere) and texts at double the usual price, at £1 per text. I wonder why Djibouti is so expensive.

At 16.00 this afternoon went to watch the ping pong tournament. The chief mate, dressed all in blue and looking like a pirate with a bandana won in the end against the boson. It was rather interesting that the Croatians rooted for their own when playing the Chinese or Filipinos, but when playing against other Croatians, it was deck versus engine room. The captain came to watch, as did a number of others. Danilo (whose cousin  apparently goes to SOAS) was called in to play and arrived with red puffy eyes and proceeded to lose. When I asked him just now whether he had been sleeping, he said no he always cries when he listens to sad music.

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Then at 17.30 we went off to the BBQ on D-Deck, which has a wrap-around outside wing. Massive oil-drums burning wood with pork, hotdogs, beef and chicken plus garlic bread and fried rice and melons and watermelon for dessert. No alcohol. What was lovely was the absence of separation between crew and officers, though obviously people of the same language were sitting together more often than not. But everyone was barbecuing their own meat and having a good chat. Turned out that the cook had worked as a waiter in Riyadh for a couple of years and in Qatar also; in the former at the Harvey Nichols’ restaurant, and the latter at Regis Hotel. He then became a messman on a CMA ship five years ago and eventually made it to chief cook. The party ended at 19.15 – what with the requirement to keep the ship dark. I now smell like smoke and sweat. It was 31 degrees outside and very humid as we go further south for a bit more. I think we are now only 10 degrees north of the equator. The captain said the ship may be rolling tomorrow… So something to anticipate as we steam fairly close to Yemen up towards the Gulf of Oman.

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