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في بلاد الرافدين: جنة عدن
يسردُ المؤلّف في هذا الكتاب تفاصيل من الحملة البريطانية أثناء الحرب العالمية الأولى على جنوب العراق من وجهة نظره بوصفه ضابطاً في الفيلق الطبيّ البريطانيّ، إذ يعرض بأسلوب أدبي سلس وجميل ومؤثّر تفاصيل يومياته أثناء تشييد المستشفى الميداني جنوبي العراق، وأعماله اليومية، ومتابعته للحالات المرضيّة. ويحللُ في فصول الكتاب بعمقٍ كبير ومدهش معاناة الجنود من الحر والشمس الحارقة والمرض، مع تحليلات عميقة عن واقع الحياة المعيوشة آنذاك وإشارات مختلفة عن أحوال السكان المحليين وحالة الفقر والعوز التي يعانونها، مما اضطر بعضهم إلى أعمال النهب والسلب. وقد عزّز الكتاب بمجموعة جميلة من الرسوم، التي أنجزها المؤلف بنفسه.يمثل الكتاب رحلة ممتعة للتعرف على أحوال البلاد وسكانها في ت
132 pages
First published April 30, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
October 15, 2021
This is an interesting account of the service of the 32nd Field Hospital of the 10th Irish Division in Mesopotamia, present day Iraq, during World War I. 'Martin Swayne' is the pen name of Maurice Nicoll, a Scottish neurologist and psychologist who had also served with the Royal Army Medical Corps at Gallipoli. Although focusing pretty tightly on the medical work, military administration, travel, daily routines, weather, sleeping arrangements, food, discomforts, and recreation of the troops, there are occasional insightful vignettes about the country, as well.
Through the clinging mist the life of the little hamlet gradually became visible. A café revealed itself, a collection of wooden settles in a small square, and beyond a big dark doorway. A fat Arab in yellow appeared and gazed at us. Then an old wizened fellow, a haji from his green turban showing he had seen Mecca, came up and they conversed. Green Turban was plainly lamenting. He pointed to our ship, to the telegraph-office, to a squad of Gurkhas marching past wearing their ration baskets as hats, and threw up his hands. The fat café proprietor shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the bazaar. His argument was plain. Business was good and he was content with the changes. Green Turban drew his robes closer round him, shook his head and went off, a sad, gaunt figure on whose face was stamped that expression which is common all the world over when new wine and old bottles make contact. As he passed up the bank a barge load of howitzers, their yellow muzzles gazing skywards, churned its way up stream.
Nicoll was already a friend and colleague of Carl Jung before his military service and he went on to become a student and friend of mystics George Gurdjieff and P.D. Ouspensky, then a teacher and scholar of their work.
Through the clinging mist the life of the little hamlet gradually became visible. A café revealed itself, a collection of wooden settles in a small square, and beyond a big dark doorway. A fat Arab in yellow appeared and gazed at us. Then an old wizened fellow, a haji from his green turban showing he had seen Mecca, came up and they conversed. Green Turban was plainly lamenting. He pointed to our ship, to the telegraph-office, to a squad of Gurkhas marching past wearing their ration baskets as hats, and threw up his hands. The fat café proprietor shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the bazaar. His argument was plain. Business was good and he was content with the changes. Green Turban drew his robes closer round him, shook his head and went off, a sad, gaunt figure on whose face was stamped that expression which is common all the world over when new wine and old bottles make contact. As he passed up the bank a barge load of howitzers, their yellow muzzles gazing skywards, churned its way up stream.
Nicoll was already a friend and colleague of Carl Jung before his military service and he went on to become a student and friend of mystics George Gurdjieff and P.D. Ouspensky, then a teacher and scholar of their work.
November 6, 2022
The history repeat itself in mesopotamia!
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews