English wedding with international guests

Hardly surprising, the international component, since our beloved Juliette and Rory, as respectively aid project manager and one-time Guardian Middle East correspondent, lived together in places like Islamabad, Baghdad, Beirut and Jerusalem (guess which one we haven't visited). The wedding guests last Saturday came from various parts of the UK but also from Ireland, Belgium, France (I got an early flight from Bordeaux), Thailand, Sicily, Morocco, Cyprus, Jordan, Oman, Jerusalem, Istanbul, Kabul, Pakistan, Mali, Mogadishu, Washington, New York and Australia.

It all took place, after their first 17 glorious years together, in Julie's home village of Blewbury, Oxfordshire, where her wonderful mother still lives, and you don't get much more English than that. The above photo captures the spontaneous spirit of the day; mine below is simply there to show you more of the church between the showers.

Despite delicious kinks in the wedding service, the afternoon and evening travelled smoothly along expected lines, including a wedding banquet in a marquee on the home lawn and speeches from Rory, Julie (this, at least, is a recent departure - the lady does not remain silent) and Best Man. The dancing, too, was initiated by the bride and groom; we joined in the Arabic numbers. No-one there, I hope, would have been shocked to see two men dancing together the way we did, but I DID think that the table labels ('Lancelot and Guinevere', 'Tristan and Isolde', 'Layla and Majnun' - that's an Azeri couple) should at least have run to one like 'Hadrian and Antinous'. Well, we same-sex marrieds were in a small minority. Anyway, here's my conventional cake-cutting shot, and they are indeed a beautiful couple.

We wouldn't know our extraordinary friend Sophie, nor visited her mud hotel in Djenne, if we hadn't met Juliette first, nearly 25 years ago. Julie told us her 'goddaughter' (yes, really) needed cheering up in London and we took her to a lousy play about the Holocaust in the basement of our local pub. It was so bad we actually laughed a lot and bonded instantly.

We also wouldn't know Juliette if our passports hadn't been stolen while we spent a night in an airport hotel in Damascus before supposedly flying on to San'a (a city I guess we won't see now). After 10 hours in an airport holding-space, we were finally rescued by Peter Noon, British Consul, who took us to HQ where we saw a polaroid of then recently-released Terry Waite on the wall and got our temporary passports, after which they were duly stamped, and stamped again when we revised our travel plans and took a service taxi to Amman in Jordan and on to Petra before travelling back to Damascus (more visa shenanigans).

Before that, our extended stay in Syria, which I can't regret for any reason - we had intended to spend four days there on the way back - meant that we spent New Year's Eve and Day in Palmyra

and went to the crusader castle of Krac des Chevaliers on quite a different day than the one envisaged in our original plans. And there, in the pouring rain, I saw three figures emerge on another tower and serendipitously snapped them before a word had been exchanged.

These were Juliette (centre), Nick her travelling companion (right) - Rory was some years in the future for her then - and their guide (left). She shouted 'Are you English?' and 'Why are you carrying that music case?' (I was also wearing tweed, as we did on our travels in those days). Meeting them at the main gate, J thought she was 'a bit braying', but we bumped into each other again in Damascus, had supper together and the rest is history (even weirder is the fact that our dear friend Cally had told Nick, who was her landlord at the time, that he would probably meet us at Crac). Along with our Viennese friends Tommi and Martha, whom we met during a six-hour delay to our flight from Cairo to Asmara and with whom we subsequently travelled a bit around Eritrea, Juliette and hence Rory are the real abiding friends we've made from our travels. Very loving and loyal ones, too. Here's to their next decades together.

Aleppo heartbreak: a devoted doctor shames us

This article first appeared in September. I felt it was vital to put it up again in the thick of the hellish endgame with the so far encouraging news that Dr al Khatib is still alive and doing what he can, or was when he posted again on Change.org two days ago. And here's a link to The Huffington Post's helpful piece on how and where to give. For a shocking, nuanced report on the impossible dilemmas and compromises around the Aleppo nightmare, read Robert Fisk's article in The Independent online - just about the only thing I've read there recently to suggest that once fine broadsheet has anything left to offer. 

It should come as no surprise that an American politician, albeit one even dumber if possible than Trump, should yesterday have asked 'what's Aleppo'? The answer is, perhaps the most pressing catastrophe of many facing us at the moment. Dr Hamza al Khatib (pictured below) started up a Change.Org petition several weeks ago with a simple message: 'I am one of the very last doctors serving the remaining 300,000 citizens of eastern Aleppo. Atrocities are being committed every day. The Syrian regime and Russian aircraft are systematically targeting civilians and hospitals across the city. In the last week, I have written to both President Obama and Chancellor Merkel calling for their help'.  

I circulated the petition; some of my acquaintances wrote back to say, what on earth do you think Obama and Merkel can do? Setting aside the complexities of the issue, it seems to me absolutely essential that I post Dr al Khatib's latest message. Nothing has made me feel more desperate about the untenable situation, or clarified it so ruthlessly. Chlorine attacks? Still? I mourn for this city, so racy and wild when we visited in the 1990s. Those souks and monuments, all destroyed; but now we have to save as many civilians as possible. Thus our noble doctor:

September 08

Dear Friends,

I have been overwhelmed by your outpouring of support. It is heartening to see that so many people across the world have joined my call, and the call of my fellow physicians, to Obama and Merkel to do more to ensure the people of Aleppo are no longer subject to vicious bombings and brutal sieges.

But it is with a heavy heart that I now write to you, as a Syrian Government offensive, supported by Russian airstrikes, has left eastern Aleppo re-encircled and cut off from desperately needed medical and humanitarian aid.

It is hard to describe the anxiety of impending starvation. The knowledge that each meal will be smaller than the last, that each patient will have less anaesthesia than the one before him or her. It is like carrying a weight that grows heavier by the day, dragging you towards the ground.

This is the reality for the 300,000 civilians trapped in Eastern Aleppo - my family, friends and patients who now all face an uncertain fate. As we face a debilitating siege, relentless bombardment and now chemical weapons, our suffering is as much psychological as it is physical. As deadly as these chemical attacks are, their real impact is making our homes feel unlivable, as though even the air we breathe can take our lives from us.

Just this week government planes dropped canisters filled with chlorine, sending dozens to our hospitals, gasping for air. This is another in a series of chemical attacks by the Syrian government, who have shown no regard for Obama's 'red line' on the use of these internationally banned weapons. President Obama, too, seems insufficiently concerned about these violations.

As I rushed to treat the victims of this attack I was shocked to see children as young as 5 and 6 knowing how to hold the oxygen masks to their faces without the help of doctors or parents. What does it say when these attacks have become so routine that even children have learned to treat themselves amidst the chaos? What does it say about what this war is doing to our children when holding a gas mask to their faces comes as easy as holding a coloured pencil to paper? 

But I have made a pledge to remain by the people of this city and my commitment to that is unwavering, even in the face of relentless bombardment. Frustrated, angry and exhausted as I am, I have not lost hope. The heroic people of this city give me hope, as does the knowledge that across the world people like you are taking a stand for Aleppo. With your voice, you can assure that the people of this city do not suffer in silence. I'll be in touch with more updates from Aleppo as soon as I can, but in the meantime please share this campaign as widely as you can and help us let the world know what is happening to Aleppo.

Please sign the petition and tell everyone you know.

Update (23/9): after the targeted bombings of, inter alia, major aid convoys, Dr al Khatib has put up another post on change.org on the results of what Khofi Annan called 'new depths of depravity' from the Russians and the Syrian government.