January 24, 1995 |
In the street below, vendors hawked incense, guavas and sugar-cane juice while a Hindu priest intoned mantras to Lal Sain, a water god. On the top floor of a dirty-yellow, two-story house the doctors and nurses were ready for the next patient. The gynecological table with its steel stirrups had been covered with a worn but clean green sheet. The room reeked of disinfectant. If all went well, the surgery, performed 10 times a day on average, would take five minutes.
November 27, 1994 |
It is a morning like many mornings at the Hole of the Snake cafe, with the scent of cardamom-flavored coffee, the gurgling of water pipes and the stench of the butchers' trade in the air. Work-weary men, their white galabiyas dappled down the front with blood, sip and gossip and nod off surrounded by the bedlam of Cairo's second-largest slaughterhouse. The alarming knives of their trade, the size of fat swords, glint in holsters slung across the backs of their chairs. At a shop next door, a burly man with trunk-sized arms rhythmically whacks at the bones and entrails of what perhaps recently was a cow, with explosive results.
January 3, 1995 |
EUROPE Hope Flickers in Bosnia: While 1994 began with a few glimmers of hope for the Balkans, they quickly proved illusory and, month after month, the war that has taken at least 200,000 lives continued its deadly trampling of peoples, principles and alliances. When an artillery shell smashed into a crowded public market in Sarajevo on Feb. 5, killing 68 people, it spurred an outraged world into action.