April 19, 2013, by Temo Bardzimashvili, EurasiaNet
A sledgehammer swooshes down and crushes old concrete, revealing rusty reinforcement bars. One more swing and the bar loosens enough to remove it from what once used to be part of a factory wall.
Scrap metal is the messy business that earned Georgia $260 million worth of export revenues in 2012; the country’s second-largest export after used cars. But, for many Georgians, desperate to find jobs in an economy with unofficial double-digit unemployment rates, it is simply a way to survive.
Each morning, seven days a week, cars loaded down with a variety of metals creep through neighborhoods in the Georgian capital, Tbilisi; the drivers using loudspeakers to summon residents to donate their old refrigerators, heaters or ovens. READ……
By Robyn Dixon, Los Angeles Times, April 23, 2013
Homemade twig pens stand like off-duty soldiers in a jar on Boubacar Sadeck’s worktable. The morning sun steals into a room stuffed with a jumble of papers, ink bottles and stretched animal hides. He sits thoughtfully before a blank sheet of paper, with several old manuscripts — the color of dark tea and covered with Arabic script — open at his side.
Occasionally a breeze wafts in and playfully flicks one of the old brown pages to the floor.
Copying the words of ancient scholars in elegant Arabic calligraphy makes Sadeck feel close to heaven.
“My weakness, my love, is calligraphy,” said the scribe, who fled Timbuktu, famed for its collection of centuries-old manuscripts, when Islamist militias invaded last year. “If I go a day without writing, I feel as if something is missing or strange. When I sit down with my paper and my pen, I feel wonderful. I feel at ease.”
Copying and recopying old manuscripts is an ancient Timbuktu calling. In the 15th century, there were hundreds of scribes; the job was one of the most highly paid and prestigious occupations in the city, then an intellectual center and trade hub. READ……..