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Digital Donkeys and Tangled Webs

Paradise was getting tough. By the mid-nineties I was beginning to think that I had made a huge mistake with my life by choosing the Rock as permanent home. My livelihood as a carefree Jack-of-all, was being jeopardized by the influx of a younger, stronger and cheaper work force.

Err-David I need my garden pruned, my wall white-washed or my light bulb changed, dwindled. What's more the new immigrants justifiably enjoyed a sympathy factor, having been newly freed from a poor Northern dictatorial communist state.

It encouraged me to become a little more responsible about life, and I upgraded my activities to include holding house keys. But managing peoples homes adds complication to 'the simple life' I had chosen, and I began to wonder whether I was destined to spend half the rest of my life sitting around waiting for the electrician/plumber/carpenter to show.

I loved my island life, but with rampant inflation, the days of social intercourse on a shoe-string were vanishing. One needed funds to participate in port front joviality on a regular basis. Which meant that one fell out of the loop, and lost further leads in making ends meet. Catch 22... a pickle.

The alternative, leaving, was too daunting to contemplate, and I began to wonder if perhaps escaping the rat-race was an inevitable rat-trap. After a dozen years of not having driven, the thought of facing traffic and adhering to a nine-to-five corporate schedule was terrifying.

Having spent most of my adult life 'marooned' on Hydra, I was ill equipped for life in the city even if there was gainful employment to be found. What after all, were the chances of a thirty-eight year old bloke who had spent the last dozen years chasing donkeys and dreams around an island, obtaining a sincere position in the 'real' world?

Fully armed naval fleets had been converging in aggressive manner at the 'accidental' hoisting of a Turkish flag on a small barren Greek Rock in the Aegean, and national pride was at stake. The article was published, but my peaceful overtures were not well received by many of the locals, and I was taken to task over my lack of appreciation for historical boundaries.

I was genuinely surprised that my suggestion of peaceful dialog being preferable to two NATO allies attempting to annihilate each other over a chunk of granite that couldn't support a rabbit, could attracted such a negative, almost hostile response. My appetite for re-entering the responsible world of journalism was abated, and I was no closer to finding a new career. Clearly my skin still wasn't thick enough.

There was another very important factor that influenced my impasse and planted seeds of doubt about my being able to remain full time on the Rock.

Bachelorhood was loosing its shine, and the chances of meeting Mrs. Right were looking slim from a solitary bunker (the room I rented). Nobody eligible stayed on the island much longer than a sabbatical, and  fearful regiments of protective clan generally dissuaded one from courting local girls.  Some would call it a premature mid life crises, but to me it was a conspiracy, a quandary.

Then I 'discovered' the Internet whilst visiting friends in Stockholm during the summer of 96', and a vision of its potential on the island was almost instant. The answer to my dreams and my dilemma. My excitement at this technology was probably highlighted by the fact that it appeared to me out of the blue. I had no pre-launch inkling, so being introduced to the web was a profound experience. Sending an e-mail for a fraction of a stamp, the stuff of science fiction.

By the end of that year I had opened a little Internet café and launched a community website. This new invention had me in awe for months. I'd once waited nearly five years for a phone on the island, so the contrast in technology was doubly exaggerated from my perspective.

But as folk around the world joined the World Wide Web I soon found myself back in Err-David territory. Not that I minded, but I was still convinced that we had designed the Internet for more than just chit-chat about the weather, or if so-and-so was on the island.

This feeling nagged more the longer I squabbled on an old analog line in a new digital world. Frustration at the lack of technical support on the island, and new things called viruses wreaked havoc with the Hydranet office and website. Having a shop was seriously responsible stuff.

The Greek Times 16^th February 1996.
Opinion page.
David Fagan

Is the national debt worth sacrificing for Imia?

During the Falklands conflict, Britain and Argentina were described as two bald men fighting over a comb.

No doubt international ridicule will liken Greece and Turkey to two blind men squabbling over a magnifying glass, in the current dispute over the obscure barren rock called Imia,

For surely it would require a magnifying glass for even the sighted to find it on a map.

Both countries can ill afford a conflict over a wind swept little rock which doesn’t have any strategic or mineral importance.  The only apparent reason is wounded national pride in an age old tradition of sabre rattling.

Indeed if two mature members of NATO were not overruled by their mutual allies, armed confrontation might well have occurred already.

To dig up the hatchet over Imia, an island that couldn’t support a family of hares, never mind flocks of sheep, would be a tragedy of epic proportions for both sides.

The financial cost in terms of tourism, is something that would cripple Greece’s already ailing holiday trade.  Lost revenue would run into billions of drachma, without even contemplating the expense in life and materials if the two Mediterranean powers were to cross swords.

Who could have foreseen that Kosta Simitis’ first major hurdle would be over a journalist in a helicopter carrying a flag.  Hardly an invasion by Turkish marines, and yet within hours Washington and Brussels had to intervene in order to prevent an escalation in mobilization.

How dangerously frail is our peace if the ugly head of fervent nationalism can threaten it over a piece of material hoisted in so inconsequential a place.

What we see is zealotry on both sides quoting old dates and agreements, without foresight.  One statement from a respected businessman summed it up by saying that Turkey could open a hotel on the island, and therefore in principle, should that happen, who knows what they thought they were entitled to demand next.

All very correct in theory, but no entrepreneur would realistically even consider such an expensive venture, upon this beachless rock which has two names.  Errors have been made but politicians should step back and take a deep breath before making rash inflammatory statements.

Greece should look to the more serious and immediate problem of dealing with national debt.  Turning some minor poltergeist in the ghost of some monstrous spectre present, diverts attention from home grown difficulties, and solves absolutely nothing in Greece’s interest.

One afternoon I was at home in my bunker watching President Bill Clinton being grilled on CNN for fiddling with a thong on the Oval desk. On a whim I wrote a letter on the subject to Time magazine and saved it to floppy on an old laptop to take down and send from the office the following day.

I sent the sentiment off to Time with barely a thought, and having received an automated thank you and usual blurb that a human reader would eventually get around to it, I dismissed the submission from mind.

It was an enthusiastic e-mail about the concept that enabled me to wangle my way to Tucson Arizona to see respected astronomer Prof Tom Gehrels about the idea. He confirmed the pauperly state of this science. The long and short is that whilst some folk saw merit in the concept, when I wanted to pass the idea on, none had the inclination take it up. Starting the proposed scheme required commitment, responsibility, and time they didn't have.

I was already suffering from a case of the 'what-ifs' in my past and didn't want to add another. I knew I had to try and put the idea into practice or I'd go to my grave with a capitol WHAT-IF stencilled on my forehead. But that's different story or perhaps the point of this one!

After three years as 'Digital-Dave', the Internet revealed another dimension of itself to me. Apart from its ability to link to the mass media and contact famous astronomers, it could also be a tool that generates the most personal of emotions. Correspondence with an old acquaintance cemented over the Internet some weeks before she came out on holiday, which culminated in a new dimension being added to my life. What's more she possessed extra ordinary computer driving skills - Enter Kelsey, my industrious now wife, who moved with her daughter Harriet to Hydra a couple of days before the millennium. I had become a guardian - something that required responsible behaviour at all hours.

Then the idea about researching asteroids took a twist I didn't foresee. An instant negative reaction when the subject was mentioned second time round. Instead of generating further interest in the topic, I faced closed doors and blank expressions. (Not by the scientific community who are grateful for any assistance).

I suppose too that many suspected I was no longer playing with a full bag of marbles, and it took tenacity, even domestically, to get the project launched.

I was prepared for a little ridicule, but I wasn't expecting such instant turn-offs. I had optimistically hoped that by lightening the subject, giving it less gloomy analogies and being an upbeat site with a difference, people might soften.

But I was a little over optimistic in my estimation of changing attitudes, and debate accumulated epic proportions. For instance, The God question. I had blundered ahead focusing purely on the scientific side of the equation, and not considered a spiritual dimension.

Wasn't Fair and therefore I, going against Gods will? Armageddon after all, is in the teachings, and who were we to be dabbling with the Almighty's Judgment day. A curved ball which took me by surprise because I am not anti-religious, quite the contrary.

It required a responsible answer.

I countered with a comparison to tsunamis. That not so long ago they too were deemed to be weapons of God's wrath; but these days we don't think of a subterranean warning system as interference with God's will. Explaining that the society merely pointed out what science has documented. Asteroids are un-spiritual hunks of rock that exist everywhere, along with planets, suns, moons, comets and that perhaps it is time we started thinking of them as just that, natural phenomena.

If the Great Creator is responsible for everything, including our ability to do science, then how can it be against his wish if we can develop technology to solve problems wherever they arise? I would also add that no website society or organization could do anything to alter the will of God anyway, as an impact event could happen tomorrow. Simple pragmatic facts that help un-cloud the issue.

I had hoped that once the society was able to prove the system was secure and worked, i.e. show that the funds raised actually did go to the scientist and this wasn't just another cyber scam, it would acquire momentum of its own.

It was never my intention to make a career out of hazardous asteroids, who after all wants to spend the rest of his days being dubbed the Doomsday Man. Life is far more interesting here on Earth; so I made my contribution and got on with life treating the society as an administrative hobby only.

I then turned, with much prodding from the wife, to writing a book about life in the donkey lane. A fairly responsible chore it turned out, and not simple. Also I thought as a completely different entity, it being a down to earth book not associated to controversial areas of astronomical science, that such a publication would re-introduce casual conversation.

It was favourably reviewed in its first appearance in the press and Kelsey then built a website to support the book. But here is the kicker, it was our website promoting the book, linked from my wife's community website, which brought Mike Bushell, familiar sports presenter for the BBC to my inbox.

It was e-mail, which built a rapport that developed into Hydra being exclusively filmed to represent rural Greece in a documentary for the BBC World's opening coverage of the 2004 Athens Games. It was my meeting Mike and asking his opinion about an off-the-wall e-mail I was thinking of submitting to Click Online, and his affirmative reply which prompted hitting the send button.

One doesn't really expect to be reviewed out the millions of sites submitted, and I put it from mind. Forgotten in fact until I got an e-mail from a mate in Germany months later saying he was impressed with what the BBC had to say about the website.

And it's that review which has led me to writing these words explaining why I seem to ruminate on two totally different subjects. But I don't really, its still all about living on the Rock. Saving the donkeys is my choice of charity, an aspect after all, which attracted favourable review by Click Online in the first place.

A responsible society launched and based in Hydra.

For all my efforts in keeping the Rock and Space Rocks apart, it finally dawned on me, writing is writing, whether about donkeys or doomsday, in the end they are just words and the business of sharing them. For without words we cease!

(Fair has since added cartoons and a free 'service and equipment' section)