Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid Of Gustav

OFTEN THE MOST significant stories are ignored in the world press; and there certainly was one on Monday from Jerusalem.
Even for someone, who had been based in the Israeli capital, I believed the “hidden” meaning of U.S. Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice’s recent visit as just another courtesy call to the Middle East.
However, I have had to backtrack from my lethargic attitude because what she indicated could dramatically change the course of world history.
I know that could be misconstrued as just being overly dramatic, but Rice’s sole purpose for being in Israel was to get a document signed by the end of the year, which would divide Jerusalem and offer the Palestinians a state as well as a huge stake in Israel’s capital city. In addition, the Jews’ most hated enemies would not only control a portion of Jerusalem, but have a major foothold in the West Bank and Gaza Strip.
It would appear the United States at the insistence of its president George W. Bush are determined to follow this course of action before either Barack Obama or John McCain assumes the presidency.
In addition to a portion of Jerusalem being given away, the Palestinians are known to covet the Temple Mount area, which happens to be Judaism’s “holiest site.”
While there have been strong denials from Israeli prime minister Ehud Olmert’s office, there seems to be handwriting on the wall that it will happen and soon.
While the world press was following the Obama ascension to the Democratic throne in Denver, the Jerusalem blockbuster was largely ignored. It came to the forefront on the World Net Daily website, which I had worked for as Middle East bureau chief (1997-2000) and based in Jerusalem.
It might have been downplayed by even me, except for the haunting words, written by veteran Washington newsman Bill Koenig. He had earlier outlined at least eight major ‘Acts of God’ that coincided with the timing of U.S. pressure on Israel to give up The Land (Israel).
In his book, ‘Eye to Eye – Facing the Consequences of Dividing Israel’ – Koenig wrote about those eight “acts.” In brief, they are:
October 30, 1991: President George Bush opens the Madrid Conference with an initiative for a Middle East peace plan involving Israel’s land. On the same day, an extremely rare storm forms off the coast of Nova Scotia. It was tagged “The Perfect Storm,” which became a book and later a movie. Along the New England coast, there were 100-foot waves, causing heavy damage to the elder Bush’s home in Kennebunkport, Maine.
August 23, 1992 – The Madrid Conference moves to Washington, D.C. On the same day, Hurricane Andrew causes $30 billion in damages and leaves 180,000 homeless in Florida.
January 16, 1994 – President Clinton and Syria’s Hafez el-Assas meet in Geneva about Israel giving up the Golan Heights. Less than 24 hours later, the powerful Northridge earthquake rocked southern California.
March 1 to April 1997 – Palestinian Authority Chairman Arafat tours the U.S while Clinton rebukes Israel for not giving up her land for peace. Powerful tornadoes rip the central U.S. When Arafat leaves, the storms stop.
January 21, 1998 – Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu meets with Clinton and is coldly received. Shortly afterwards that day, the Monica Lewinsky scandal breaks.
September 27-28, 1998 – Then Secretary of State Albright was working on a final agreement in which Israel would give up 13 per cent of the West Bank. As Clinton, Arafat and Netanyahu met to finalize the land deal, Hurricane Georges battered the Gulf Coast. Later, Arafat spoke at the U.N. about declaring an independent Palestinian state by May 1999.
October 15-22, 1998 – As Arafat and Netanyahu meet in Maryland, there is massive flooding in Texas. Clinton declares a section of Texas a major disaster area.
May 3, 1999 – This is the same day in Israel that Arafat was scheduled to declare a Palestinian state with Jerusalem as the capital. It was postponed until December 1999 at Clinton’s request. That same day, the most powerful storm system ever to hit the U.S. swept through Oklahoma and Kansas. Winds were clocked at 316 mph.
The Biblical connection apparently continued to Monday, August 22, 2005 when the last Jewish settlement in Gaza was evacuated – wrapping up Israel’s historic pullout from the coastal strip after settlers held a farewell march behind Torah scrolls and a massive menorah, then boarded armoured buses and left.
Ariel Sharon, then the vibrant Israeli prime minister now comatose, and Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas spoke by phone and expressed their comitment to peace – the first conversation between the two since the pullout started.
Then according to my notes, the next day, August 23, the day after the Gaza evacuation, the Bahamas issued a tropical storm warning for some of the islands and by Wednesday, August 24 at 11 a.m. it became Tropical Storm Katrina and at 5 p.m. Thursday, August 25, it had become a hurricane and smacked into southeast Florida.
Then it changed directions, lashing at the Gulf Coast and its bevy of oil rigs and into New Orleans. And the rest is a continuing nightmare.
So three years later, on August 25, it was learned that Rice and U.S. president Bush were planning to split Jerusalem between the Jews and their bitter enemies and today Gustav looms like the shadow of death over the U.S. Gulf Coast and the seemingly plagued city of New Orleans.

Scary storm clouds gather around the world

IT STARTED as a slow news day and then before the clock had struck noon Tuesday, all it all changed.
Let’s back track just a moment:
7 a.m.: “Do we have any bologna in the house?” I yelled to The Missus. “Yes, why do you ask?” she replied. “Because there’s a great long list of recalled products from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency on the Net,” I answered.
Of course, we were both aware of the recent deaths and illness caused by “listeria monocytogenes,” but had no idea of the enormity of the problem.
“Let me see that,” she said, looking down the list which included well-known meat brands including Bittners, Schneiders, Burns, Country Morning, Hickory Farms, Maple Leaf, Overlander, Parma, Safeway, Shopsys, Western Family, etc., etc. It was a who’s who in the “meat department” and it was five pages long.
The Missus wasn’t impressed. I could tell by the determination in her voice that we wouldn’t be serving meat on the table anytime soon.
8 a.m.: That’s when I read about the death of Dave Freeman at age 47 on the Los Angeles Times website. For those, who might not know the name, Freeman was a hero of mine; although we’d never met. He died on Aug. 17 after falling and hitting his head in his Venice, California home.
The advertising genius had co-authored “100 Things To Do Before You Die” with Neil Teplica, who told the Times the title meant, “you should live every day like it would be your last, and there’s not that many people who do that.”
Among the favourite things to do in the strange travel guide, Freeman and Teplica listed the Academy Awards ceremony, the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, the National Hollerin’ Contest in North Carolina and Australia’s Nude Night Surfing contest.
Although I consider myself an adventurer, Freeman really took it to the outer limits.
9 a.m.: While the chatterboxes on Fox were giving me an inside look at the Democratic convention in Denver, the websites were clogged with reports concerning a possible assassination attempt. Apparently it would have targeted Barack Obama during his acceptance speech Thursday night. The police rounded up four culprits.
The sinister story ground to a halt when police said there was “insufficient evidence” to charge the “drug addicts.”
10:30 a.m.: There was fright registered in the voice of the FOX weatherperson. It was concerning a hurricane called Gustav, which was churning through Haiti at about 90 mph. So what? That’s when Janice Dean said that it had almost clear sailing through the Gulf and could evidently turn into a Category 5 by the weekend.
The startling thought of a Cat 5 was almost unthinkable. After all, a lesser storm called Fay had ripped Florida time and again in the past couple of weeks. Gustav, by all early reports could equal one of most devastating blasts of this or any generation called Katrina.
Of course, as a wire story reported Haitians were used to such blasts. In 2004, some 3,000 people in the Haitian city of Gonaives were killed.
Would it reach such Biblical proportions as Katrina did in September 2005? In looking back to those days, a cold sweat broke out once again as I “saw” re-runs of TV images from New Orleans and the SuperDome “hell-hole” and all the stranded humanity which tried to stay afloat along the U.S. Gulf Coast..
And I also recall Geraldo Rivera sobbing from inside and outside that wretched Convention Centre. “Let them walk out of here, let them walk the hell out of here. Walk to some other town. Walk some place where you can help ‘em … These people in the same clothes, where do you think they go to the bathroom? They don’t wash their hands, they don’t wash their faces, these babies. What the hell?”
While the U.S. politicians patted each other on the back in Denver, Gustav roared towards its destination. Then overseas, one major headline read: Russia Threatens Military Response To U.S. Missiles.
12 Noon: Just a slow news day? I don’t think so.

Those Unfriendly Megastores vs. The Company Store

I KNEW I COMMITTED the cardinal sin as soon as I had said hello to an unfamiliar face in one of those blockbuster grocery stores on Saturday.
How dare you, Corbett? Are you insane? Talking to a complete stranger and expecting a civil answer? Where do you think you are?
That was the troubling thought during the past 48 hours; that I’d actually gone shopping with The Missus on Saturday afternoon instead of being hunkered down at the Ol’ Homestead and watching the Beijing Olympics and obeying the rules of No Talking To Strangers.
Actually, I had forgotten to pick up The Megastore List of Do’s and Don’t before shopping including remembering the strict no passing zones and always silently mumbling words your mother would wash your mouth out with soap in days gone past.
However, I can’t be exoepted to remember all the Megastore regulations; after all I don’t get into the Big City that often.
But there was a time it was different. Let me tell you about the Company Store from long, long ago:
There was this bell. Tinkle. Tinkle. It always rung when you opened the door to The Store.There were other stores (lower case s) amd outlets (lower case o's) in Bass River, Nova Scotia. Whatcha think we were, hicks?
There was the Coop, Rutherford's, just past Aunt Myrtle's telephone exchange. Then, Old Man Keirstead's place, which I frequented often in hopes of getting a glimpse at his magnificent daughter, Charlotte, who never glanced my way.
And then there was Canning's dual-purposed ice cream parlour and barber shop, where in the back room they had this hydraulic chair which tilted back and forth. And a plethora of sweet-smelling aromas in tall bottles just for men. Lilac-rose.
Some day I wanted to go in that back room and sit in that barber's chair, the one that tilted back and forth, and have Mr. Canning lather up my face, and take that long straight razor and scrape that massive accumulation of peach fuzz off.
And then wrap a steaming hot towel over my face and let me then soak up the odour of lilac-rose, generously splashed on my cheekbones.
While there were assorted places, there was only one Store. That's with a capital S. There was no need to identify it as the Dominion Chair Company Store.
Everybody knew that. It loomed at the end of the Bass River bridge, a two-storey elongated gray barn of a building, with six small windows on the second level and these bay windows on the front.
On one end there was a gas pump of the leaded variety and imperial gallons and at the other end, a makeshift parking lot.
It sat underneath a cliff, where in deep winter, parents always had standing orders for their kids never to go cardboarding (a makeshift version of modern-day tobogganing, only using discarded boxes, flattened out and used by either one or two or three or four daredevils), for fear their little darlings would come off the crest of the hill, across the makeshift parking lot onto Highway 2, barely being missed by the Acadian bus going from Parrsboro to Truro and clipping the side of the post office and landing in that swirling, mighty trickle known as Bass River.
The Store had this musty smell and an ominous foreboding of hidden treasures.
There was a candy counter shielded by curved glass at the front, filled with round sweet nuggets of ecstasy.
And there was this friendly clerk, by the name of Russell, who had this bulbous nose, which even W.C. Fields would envy.
Someone told me he had this long hair in his normal-sized nose and after pulling it out, his proboscis became grotesque.
I questioned that analysis. Maybe, Russell Creelman was a silent boozer on the side. After all, he was United, you know.
My mother told me later he died from pulling that hair out of his nose. I repented.
There was hardware in the back of The Store. Great galvanized bath tubs and pipes and nails and along one side were great rolls of curtain and dress materials, managed over by a woman named Grace, who wasn't amazing.
And then there was The Office. That was at the end, through a door, next to the makeshift parking lot where Mr. James S. Creelman and his cronies made the decision affecting the life of every one in Bass River.
In one corner, was a bank vault and I knew that all the money in the entire world was locked in that vault. At least $1,000.
You could also get your ticket out of town in there. It said right on the outside of The Store that they were the official agent for Acadian Bus Lines.
Deep within the bowels of my files, I have found a picture of a defiant three-year old, Willard and Annona Corbett's little boy, Kerwood, tricycling towards the Bass River Bridge, caught by an unknown cameraperson. He'd just left The Store, where he had charged a 90-cent package of tea.
It was Kerwood's first venture away from his road and he thought that it was time to explore the world.
My parents weren't impressed.
My Dad immediately went to The Store and paid my bill.
I'm told I went to bed without my supper.
But I never again went to The Store without my parents.
However, I’d trade all the Megastores in the universe for just one last visit to The Store and being able to open the door and hear that bell. Tinkle. Tinkle.
(OK Corbett is a former editor-columnist with the Edmonton Sun and one of the originals of the Toronto Sun. He can be reached at editorcorbett@gmail.com).

BCHL Vipers certainly have look of stability

MARK FERNER must be breathing easier these days. There is the promising air of stability written all over this year’s edition of the Vernon Vipers.
Even though the first few days of any training camp always brings knots to one’s stomach, there should be less reason to gulp down huge quantities of Alka-Seltzer, for the solid BCHL club has learned a great deal under Ferner’s leadership.
Despite early apprehension in the season just passed, the Vipers staved off criticism and made excellent lineup changes during the 60-game schedule and eventually stormed into the league final, losing in the sixth game to the Nanaimo Clippers.
After former Vipers’ GM Troy Mick decided to move on to a real-estate organization in Mexico; head coach Mark Holick leaving to run the WHL’s Kootenay Ice and Vipers’ associate coach Bernie Pimm joining Kal Tire’s management team, club owner Dr. Duncan Wray was confronted with a monstrous headache.
But as usual, Dr. Wray selected the right man in Ferner, one who lives by the code of “honesty, integrity and character,” which really is a rarity in these days of hyper-egos.
In a September 2007 column, Ferner told me that he hadn’t expected to join the Vipers. After being fired by a former teammate and then GM-head coach Dean Clark of the WHL’s Kamloops Blazers, Ferner had planned to “drop out” of hockey and pursue a small venture in connection with his wife Jody’s interior design business.
Then fate stepped in.
While Ferner was watching his son, Mackenzie, in a minor-league game, he had a chance to talk with Mick, who had been with the Blazers during the 2002-03 season. It was then the personable Mick told him of his real-estate plans.
Ferner was actually bent on staying out of coaching, but that was until another meeting with Mick and Dr. Wray.
“(Duncan) emphasized my own code of honesty, integrity and character during our meetings and that’s what convinced me in joining the Vipers,” said Ferner last September.
While assistant general manager and radio play-by-play broadcaster Todd Miller noted that at least 60 would be attending training camp, which opened Tuesday afternoon, a solid nucleus from last season also would be on hand.
Most notable among the missing was prolific goal scorer and leader, Hunter Bishop, who has moved on to Ohio State. However, his two linemates, Kellen and Connor Jones, will be back once again.
The popularity and skill of the Jones’ twins was sensational last season as the pair brought the Vipers’ fans to their feet time and time again.
Other returnees include goalie Andrew Hammond, along with defencemen Kevin Kraus, Kyle Bigos, Cody Ikkala, Justin Palazzo and Steve Tresierra while up front will be Braden Pimm, Chris Crowell, John Digness, Rob Short, Trent Dorais, Dallas Goodrunning and Brock Palasty.
Those moving on from last year’s contingent besides Bishop include Justin Thomas, Scott Zurevinski, Isaac Smeltzer, Greg Beller and Ryan Kakoske. Lucas Gore, who combined with Hammond in the Vernon nets last season, will be attending the WHL Chilliwack training camp.
In addition, forward Brett Switzer and defenceman Adam Thompson from the Calgary Buffaloes along with Steven Weinstein from LA are expected to be standouts during the Vernon camp.
THAT’S ICE: Ferner and assistant coach Jason Williamson will be sorting out the right combination in the next fortnight. The first BCHL game will be against the Salmon Arm Silverbacks at Wesbild Centre on Friday, Sept. 5. The following night, the two sides battle again in Salmon Arm.

Another Year Of Living Dangerously

THAT SAYING “war is hell” may be trite for some; but to the likes of photojournalists Alexander Klimchuk and Grigol Chikhladze it became a definite reality. Both lost their lives this past Sunday as the Russian ‘bear’ savaged the miniscule forces of Georgia in a furious march involving the disputed region of South Ossetia.
While thousands of innocent people have been slaughtered and lands destroyed, Klimchuk and Chikhladze also became victims for they were just doing their jobs in covering the conflict. Of course, the real reason for Russia with its 90,000 troops (800 tanks and 360 combat aircraft) compared with Georgia’s 18,000 troops (128 tanks, 9 combat aircraft) venturing from Moscow could be that precious commodity -- OIL.
Before getting back to the two journalists, it would be best to explain that one of the world’s most strategic oil pipelines runs from the Caspian Sea to the Mediterranean; and it passes through Azerbaijan and Georgia to Turkey.
A key newspaper report claims that it is “the only pipeline between Asia and Europe that doesn’t pass through Russia or Iran.”
U.S. President Bush interrupted his Beijing scenario with harsh words about the Russian intrusion this week. They were definitely directed at his one-time pal, Putin, who has started to show his true militaristic colours.
And there’s the report, and I’ll quote from Arutz Sheva news wire that “Israel decided to stop its support for Georgia after Moscow made it clear to Jerusalem and Washington that Russia would respond to continued aid for Georgia by selling advanced anti-aircraft systems to Syria and Iran.”
And into this muddled mess of death and misery, there are reports of hundreds of Israeli military experts currently in Georgia.
However, this column was intended to outline the dangers of being a journalist in such a “war zone.”
Klimchuk was on assignment for the Russian news agency Itar Tass while Chikhladze was with Russian Newsweek.
The Committee to Protect Journalists – an independent, nonprofit organization dedicated to defending freedom worldwide – reported on its website that 15 journalists had been killed in 2008 prior to the Russia-Georgia “war.” It was also noted that 130 journalists and 50 media workers have been killed since March 2003 in Iraq.
Meanwhile, in a column in March 2007, the Associated Press quoted Rodney Pinder of the International News Safety Institute (INSI), based in Brussels, Belgium that “13 journalists have died in Russia since (Vladimir) Putin came to power, and there hasn’t been a conviction.”
However, the deaths of Klimchuk and Chikhladze were killed by South Ossetian militia after traveling from Georgia.
In addition, two reporters – Winston Featherly and Temutri Kiguradze of the English-language The Messenger – were hurt and hospitalized in North Ossetia in the same attack in which Klimchuk and Chikhladze died. In addition there were reports that at least eight injuries to media members on the weekend.
In emphasizing that being a journalist is indeed a dangerous occasion, the following are the 15 journalists, according to CPJ, who had lost their lives this year:
Afghanistan: 1. Carsten Thomassen, Dagblader, Jan. 15, Kabul.
Bolivia: 1. Carlos Quispe Quispe, Radio Municipal, March 29, Pucarani.
Cambodia: 1. Khen Sambo, Moneaseka Khmer, July 11, Phnom Penh.
India: 1. Ashok Sodhi, Daily Excelsior, May 11, Samba.
Iraq: 5. Alaa Abdul-Karim al-Fartoosi, Al Forat, Jan. 29, Balad, Saleheddin province; Shihab al-Tamimi, Iraqi Journalists Syndicate, Feb. 27, Baghdad; Sarwa Abdul-Wahab, freelance, Murasalon, May 4, Mosul; Soran Mama Hama, Livin, July 21, Kirkuk.
Israel-Gaza: 1. Fadel Shana, Reuters, April 16, Gaza Strip.
Pakistan: 3. Chrshti Mujahid, Akbar-e-Jehan, Feb. 9, Quetta; Siraj Uddin, The Nation, Feb. 29, Mingora.
Somalia: 2. Hassan Kafi Hared, Somali National News Agency, Jan. 28, Kismayo; Nasteh Dahir Farah, freelance,June 7, Kismayo.
THAT’S WHAT SHE PREDICTED: Bulgarian prophetess Vanga, who died in 1996 at the age of 84, apparently predicted the collapse of the World Trade Twin Towers because of “steel birds”; the Chernobyl disaster; Boris Yeltsin’s election win, and also, that Russia would one day “dominate” the world.

Superstitions Surround Beijing Olympics

IT DIDN'T surprise me when the Chinese selected the Beijing Olympics to start at 8 p.m. on the eighth day of the eighth month. After all, eight has long been considered a lucky number.
For that reason, Chinese couples by the score were wed on that day just as the Games began with a spectacular light show as the world watched the proceedings from the Bird’s Nest stadium.
However, there were others in the millions which had a premonition that disasters were waiting in the wings. There have been numerous stories that the five cartoon characters spelling out “Beijing Welcomes You” really could have placed an omen on the Chinese entering the modern era.
In those reports, the five mascots of a panda, a Tibetan antelope, a flame, a fish and a swallow were somehow connected with a massive earthquake, a train collision, floods, the Tibetan uprising and even dire economic news.
And while the Games opening, seemingly, went off without a hitch, on first day of competition there were reports that two of the Games’ VIP visitors – Russia’s Putin and America’s Bush – were decidedly on opposite sides of the fence as Russia attacked U.S.-backed Georgia over the disputed region of South Ossetia. It could eventually escalate into a major confrontation between the two powers.
Then there was the savage murder of a Beijing visitor – Todd Bachman – and serious injuries to his wife, Barbara, at the Drum Tower and the suicide of their attacker. Bachman was the father of a former Olympian and the father-in-law of the U.S. Olympic volleyball coach Hugh McCutcheon.
So while superstition, curses, jinxes and sayings surrounding good and bad luck may edge towards the ridiculous, we’ve all been caught up in its wake.
How often have you crossed your fingers? What does it all mean? When I looked it up I found that making “the sign of the Christian faith with our fingers, evil spirits would be prevented from destroying our chances of good fortune.”
Then there are such common-place sayings as “Knock on wood,” and the explanation was the belief that good spirits lived in trees and with the knock those spirits were alerted to protect us from misfortune.
Some other “good-luck traits” included sleeping facing south; avoiding cracks in the sidewalk (Step in a crack, break your mother’s back); see a penny, pick it up; all day long you will have good luck.
Then there were “bad luck” omens such as Friday the 13th; walking under a ladder; black cats and spilling salt. Others in that category encompass seeing an owl during daylight; breaking a mirror means seven years of bad luck and, of course, it’s extremely unlucky to open an umbrella inside a house.
While superstitions and the like spreads into every area of our lives, whether we admit them or not, those that push the limit most often involve sports figures, which use such words as “daily rituals.”
If a pitcher in baseball is on a hot streak he might not shave for a fortnight. After all he doesn’t want to tempt fate. Is that bad fate or good fate?
One of the great “superstition” stories involved outfielder Kevin Rhomberg, who had a two-year career with the Cleveland Indians in the 1980s..
Larry Stone once wrote in the Seattle Times that Rhomberg was the Rajah of Rituals and also the Sultan of Spells. His passion and legacy was his “need to touch back someone who had just touched him.”
An example of his “fetish” was when he and Dan Rohn were playing winter ball in Venezuela. Rohn apparently touched Rhomberg and then proceeded to hid from him for hours.
Stone then related the ending of that story: “Rohn eventually returned to his hotel, thinking he had outfoxed Rhomberg. But at 3 in the morning, there was a knock at his door. A sleepy Rohn stumbled out of bed to open it.” Then Rohn added the kicker: “It was Rhomberg. He touched me and then ran away.” Now that’s perseverance.
Besides “touching” passion, Stone also related stories about Canada’s own Larry Walker, who considered the number “3” sacred; the great Wade Boggs of the Boston Red Sox, who had a definite routine in reaching the dugout after batting practice and then there was reliever Turk Wendell, who chewed four pieces of black licorice, spit it out after each inning and then brushed his teeth in the dugout.
Of course, there are other sporting traditions, also known as “rituals” from the good luck charm of tossing an octopus onto to the ice at the Joe. It must have worked for the Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup earlier this year. Then there was Tiger Woods wearing a red shirt ALWAYS on a Sunday. Of course, red symbolizes good luck in Thailand, where Woods’ mother, Kutilda, was born, according to Forbes’ Tom Van Riper.
While there might not be any scientific facts connecting superstitions and omens relating to the Beijing Olympics, some have now seen any numbers reaching 8 as “unlucky.” Some online experts said the worst snowstorm struck on 25/01. That totals 8. Then the Tibetan riots were 14/03 and the earthquake occurred on 12/05. All adding up to 8 and the Games began on 08. 08. 08.

From Joy To Despair For Ethiopian Jews

SOME DAYS a columnist’s work would appear easy. After all the two major stories the other morning concerned an earthquake hours before the opening of the Beijing Olympics. And then there was Eduardo churning towards Texas and Louisiana.
Both appeared to be suitable material to expound on.
However, that was before reading a small item in the Jerusalem Post: “The era of large-scale Ethiopian aliyah is over, the Jewish Agency for Israel said.”
It went on to explain that the last official airlift of Ethiopian Jews would land at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion airport, and complete 30 years and some 120,000 people’s arduous journey from the utter despair of that African country. Then there was further hope, for the story indicated that about 1,400, which had been left behind, could possibly be “rescued” in the near future.
It appeared to be a miracle as Operation Moses and the subsequent Operation Solomon during the 1980s and 1990s and even in early 2000s had brought hope to those in desperate need.
These ancient people, known by the somewhat derogatory term, Falashas, had practised their Jewish heritage while enduring the wretched conditions in northern parts of Ethiopia and suffered through the temporary camps in The Sudan where murders, rapes, diseases, robberies and hunger were common occurrence.
As I’ve written on a number of occasions, the plight of the Ethiopian Jews had become almost a personal “mission” since 1990 when I had the privilege of meeting with a group of them when they celebrated Sigd, the Ethiopian Jews’ day of prayer to return to their homeland, Israel, and the freeing of the Jews from Babylonian captivity. It’s a celebration unlike any other in Ethiopian or Jewish history.
Although I had traveled throughout Ethiopia that year, it wasn’t until the last day in that nation that I finally met these forgotten peoples.
With my friend and business partner, the late Lyle Harron, we had explored the remote country, which was being battered by a civil war, however, we were almost ready to give up our search for the Ethiopian Jews.

CORBETT'S DIARY: Thursday, Nov. 15, 1990, ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia:
"As we drove through the weaving traffic, we reached the Asmera road, which seemed to be blocked off and Sherry Yano (with CPAR -- Canadian Physicians for Aid and Relief) was told by one of the few traffic cops I'd seen in Addis, that the road was off-limits because of a celebration at the Israeli embassy.
So parking the land cruiser, we started walking along the road, filled with people going to and fro with many children in their Sunday best, along with women with great umbrellas and long, white dresses, and finely-robed men.
Everyone had a wide smile on their faces and there was an unexplainable glow.
Even the youngsters were different."I kept my vidcam recording this scene, and while the kids were curious, they allowed the three of us to be part of their celebration walk.
On the side of the hill, guarded by what I knew to be an Israeli agent, the white-robed throng poured through the gates from the embassy, well hidden in the trees."Their lilting voices lifted into heaven.
I felt a part of these radiant people.
Lyle and I were introduced to Andy, a tall, twentysomething man from just outside Washington, D.C., who was with the North American Conference on Ethiopian Jewry with their headquarters in New York City).
Then Andy No-Name asked me to sit down on a pile of leaves and we would talk, without the vidcam rolling.
He explained the hardships of the Ethiopian Jews from the war-torn areas of Gondar and Lake Tana, but there were survivors and they all wanted to go to Israel and they had, in small numbers.
Then it was a good thing I was sitting down, for when I asked how many Falasha Jews were in this one place in Addis, he replied:
About 22,000. There are between one and two thousand still remaining in Gondar.
Did he say 22,000? I had heard him correctly and no doubt within a couple of months' time, all the Falasha Jews -- Beta Israel -- in Ethiopia would be all in one place, ready to go home to Israel."

As I re-read those exhilarating words from the past, I decided to check on whether the Falashas had reached Israel Tuesday morning. Suddenly, any joy vanished.
Only 65 Ethiopian Falashmura families had actually reached Ben Gurion, according to one Jerusalem website, and thousands are still “housed” in transit camps because the Israeli government had decided to put a halt to the aliyah.
And still they wait, these forgotten people, who have suffered thousands of years of neglect and despair.