It still seems so fragile - especially when you think of the diplomacy and logistics involved in organising and deploying an International Force of 15 000
assorted armed peace-keepers (if that is not a contradiction).
But it is *now* 38 hours and 10 minutes since the Ceasefire came into effect.
Everything is so quiet now. Instead of sirens, explosions, gunfire and aircraft overhead, we are at last hearing birdsong during the day and crickets chirping at night. They are unexpectedly loud. Perhaps because we have missed them. Perhaps because we just stop and listen now.
People are returning to their homes (or what is left of them) and soldiers are returning to their bases (although most are not yet actually demobilised)
The radio is playing regular music and news bulletins are shorter and noticeably absent are lists of names or times and locations of funerals.
Sadly however we are starting to see the extent of the environmental damage: dead fish and oil pollution on the coast and thousands of acres of forest reduced to ash. This is Mediterranean mixed forest - from tiny wild-flowers to caper bushes and olives; along with oaks, pines and the increasingly mythical cedars. And all the associated wildlife: mice,porcupines,mongoose,foxes and jackals ; and so many kinds of birds resident, visitors and and migrants. Estimated recovery time - 60 years. I will never see it and my children will be over 75 years old by then. Assuming we don't do any more damage.
The most poignant story was from a Forest Ranger, standing almost ankle deep in the grey ash. He drew the tv reporter's attention to the numerous jackal prints on the dead ground. I started to smile, thinking of animals returning to nests and holes and all manner of homes. But then the Ranger explained that far from being a pack of jackals these tracks were the aimless meanderings of a lone individual searching out once-familiar places in its now burnt-out territory.And you could see it so clearly - a line of tracks as it walked along , then a muddle of prints as it shifted from foot to foot presumably sniffing and poking to discover what had happened to whatever it had expected to see at that particular spot. Then a continuation of the walking tracks to another muddle of prints...
Can we imagine its confusion and distress? Now multiply that for every bird, animal and person in the region.
If we could imagine *that* surely we would not have done it.
38 hours 40 minutes and counting



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