The Beginning of the End...

"Men never commit evil so fully and joyfully as when they do it for religious convictions." 

- Blaise Pascal

And so whilst most of us in Britain waited anxiously in our annual homage for the appearance of the sun, it seems a burning of another kind was being hatched in the minds of some restless London youths.

With millions of adults sat at their desks at work and equal numbers of children doing same in schools across the country, a dastardly and unprecedented act of barbarity was being perpetrated right in the front of anyone who had the stomach to watch.

A young man, hacked and chopped until he gave up the ghost, all because he wore a t-shirt that denoted he was a soldier in the British Army. An attack so unreal and frenzied, several witnesses have confirmed that they thought they were witnessing a film, rather than a morbid decapitation.

Incredibly, one of the assailants who is clearly carrying brass testicles, went on to pose for various photographs at the scene, promising 'hell on earth' for anyone who supports the army's activities in Muslim countries. With bloodied hands and still bearing his instruments of death, he brazenly attempts to justify the broad daylight butchery of an innocent man.

So far gone is the homegrown terrorism in the Britain today that a person can slaughter another human being, throw the dead body in the middle of a busy road and then have the effrontery to wait for the police. As if this was not bad enough, they then attempt to charge the police officers on arrival, which as we all know now led to their being shot and incapacitated. Some say the officers should have shot to kill....you wouldn't find me mourning for them if that had happened!

On a personal note, I hear one of the assailants may actually be Nigerian...I cannot begin to tell you how much revulsion boils in the pits of my stomach when I hear this. My request is that the police tell us his current location, so we can go and 'visit' him. He definitely wouldn't be in any pain by the time a few Nigerians pop in. Waste of space!!!

It seems quite clear to me that there are watershed moments in history where people cross the line of decency and redefine who we all are...I think it has just happened. Terror has come home. SMH.


May the poor man's soul rest in peace and may his family have the strength to bear such a horrible loss.

In Preparation for OscarMania....

Anyone who has any doubts on how much sway the media holds over our lives, should cast their mind back to the last time they discussed, remembered or mourned the tragic passing of Reeva Steenkamp. Been quite a while for most of us, right?

Well, that's all about to change fleetingly for the month of June 2013.

In the next few weeks or so, Oscar Pistorius will return to court to face charges on the killing of his then girlfriend and as with anything which is bound to attract intense media attention, it will automatically drill a space in our minds and hold us sufficiently captive from start to finish.

Old boils will itch to be lanced and uncomfortable truths(and untruths) will surface, to add to the already potent brew of uneasiness. Women groups are clearly in rehearsals waiting to unleash their disdain for their fallen hero, whilst supporters of the tainted Olympian are sharpening their defense tools to ensure the other side do not win the PR war (imperative in any media-saturated event).

The poor families involved will have to listen to excruciating details about their loved ones, but in the same vein, aspire to observing all manner of decorum. South Africa as an entity, will have to watch as it's dirty laundry is washed  for global dissection and knowing the SA people like I do, they will come out fighting on all formats of media attempting to preserve some national pride.

June and Barry Steenkamp, Reeva’s parents, at their home in Port Elizabeth, South Africa.

For those who are not in the know as per the horrific murder statistics in that part of the world, I believe they are all about to be educated on the numbers and most importantly, the variant shades of how those figures affect different demographics in the country. For instance, I found out through reading a Vanity Fair article that "intimate femicide" is the country's leading cause of violent death among women....wow!

The more you hear about the situation in the Cape, the more you realise how similar it is to America in the 60's. The racial division, the sporadic use of firearms, the machismo, the rampant crime and the all-round sense of danger.

Could it all be real though or is it all being pumped up to paint a picture of an environment where fear for one's life, is a feeling hanging permanently in the air? I only ask because I know tons of people who seem to want to spend their summers in that part of the world. Of course it will be nice to hear from the horses' mouths and know how the locals perceive the state of their nation, although judging by Oscar's and his father, Henke's accounts, the situation (from their perspective anyway) is not too far from the picture I paint in the previous paragraph.

But in truth, all the above is a red herring. There is a murder charge to be faced because a vibrant young woman's life has been violently truncated. Furthermore, the person in the dock is probably only second to Mandela, as the best known South African of all time. The nature of the murder, the fame of the accused and the loss of the victim, are all events which have created insane forces of nature which are now bound to collide in a Johannesburg courtroom.

The cavalry is already rolling into town,as Hilton Botha, the initial investigating detective who was one of the first on the scene that fateful night, is bursting at the seams for his day in court. Evidently irritated by his demotion from the case, but buoyed on by the fact he will be subpoenaed to give evidence at the trial, he is letting anyone who cares to ask him what side of the fence he sits.

The resulting debris will be seen from faraway distance and the noise, unbelievably deafening. In the end, the dust will clear and the din will fade....what will be left behind though, will be tragic in nature....no matter what side of the fence you sit.

Everybody loses.

Fergie - A Beautiful Retirement

Life does indeed have a way of playing tricks on you...

I remember back in 1990, the month of January to be specific, the joy that was abundant among us Liverpool fans, as it appeared Manchester United's experiment of bringing Alex Ferguson to our rivals across the Pennines, had failed woefully.They were already the laughing stock of the game as far as we were concerned, so another nail in their coffin would have conveniently pushed them over the precipice.

Three trophyless years and the appearance of 'Go Fergie' placards earlier in the season, had to our overjoyed minds meant the Mancs will have to go back to the drawing board. United had to go to Notts Forest in the third round of the FA Cup and judging by Brian Clough and his team's imperious form at the time, we had all got out our obituary pens and the compositions had begun in earnest.

So, you can imagine our intense irritation, when some young upstart by the name of Mark Robbins, went on to nick a 1-0 victory to save the hide of the 'Glasgow Chewing Gum Machine'! To further rub salt in the wound, they then went on to win a replay in that year's FA Cup and give Fergie his first English trophy.

Saviour: Mark Robins celebrates his famous
goal at Nottingham Forest

Over the summer, the Liverpool fans bantered with 'The Rags' and hoped their 'lucky' trophy would be the last for a while, but it slowly began to dawn on us as the season opened, that perhaps we had underestimated the man who used to be Number 9 at Glasgow Rangers.

His youth academy was obviously the project that had taken his eyes off the erstwhile available laurels and like the man who saved his money whilst others frittered theirs, Fergie began to slowly dominate the domestic scene, culminating in the 1992 Premiership title. It was not a beautiful picture for us, but the manner of the success was mersmerising and truth be told, there was a romantic slant which was not lost on the Liverpool demographic. After all, we were football fans....first and foremost.

For those football sucklings who may feel the Liverpool/ Man United rivalry is not real, I refer you to Fergie's post-match comments, after United won the European Cup for the third time. If you cannot be bothered to research the verbatim, let me give you a hint; it had something to do with Liverpool having won the cup five times and how he planned to overhaul that record.

For those of us who sat through the bizarre happenings in that Istanbul stadium back in 2005, the irony was not lost on us at all....any success we experienced was judged against only one club and it was refreshing to see Fergie, the general of 'that club' doing same.

So today, as the announcement came through the airwaves, that same demographic is secretly breathing a huge sigh of relief and hoping we can claim back our position as the club with the most domestic titles. Yes, there are some in that number, who will refuse to show any delight in this retirement, but trust me, the pubs in Liverpool will do a roaring trade this weekend (one half celebrating the departure and the other half downing their sorrows, as their manager is snatched by the big boys...Lol)

In summation, I leave the inimitable Jose Mourinho, who in 2011 after Fergie captured his 47th trophy, said the following:

"It's hard to see any manager following in his footsteps. to stay at one club for so long is incredible in itself. To win as much as he has won will never be repeated...to make matters worse, I see no evidence he is even contemplating retiring at this stage. I think he lives for football. I am not sure what he will do without it."

Frankly Jose, I don't care what he does without football, I am just bloody glad he is gone!

The Undying Stamina of Justice...

"Our sins, like our shadows when day is in its glory, scarce appear; toward evening, how great and monstrous they are!"

- Sir John Suckling (10 February 1609 – 1 June 1642) English poet.

And so as another 'so-called' legend falls to the persistence of their victims and investigative forensics of the UK police force, it appears what we are currently witnessing is the proverbial tip of the sexual abuse iceberg.

Celebrated individuals, who unsatisfied with the lauding that greeted their every word and move, somehow decided to connive with the devil and his emissaries, to smear the innocent  landscape of youth with their tyranny of spiteful wickedness.

You often hear and take it for a cliche when people say; you can fool some of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all the people all of the time. The truth is, a wiser and more profound statement has never been made. To see these perverts being plucked off the tree of eminence and patronage, to which they had long clung on to, is a thing of joy. Albeit, one would have wished the circumstances had not been so extremely unpleasant.

Listening to the lawyer of the now disgraced veteran BBC broadcaster, Stuart Hall, surmise his client's current situation, it dawned on me that the river of slew created by these guys, had indeed washed over all and sundry, innocent or not. The lawyer's words were bang on:

"He (Hall) is not a man easily moved to self-pity but he is only too aware that his disgrace is complete."

To think all of this; from Jimmy Savile to Hall, and many more to come out very soon, all trace back to acts committed whilst in the employment of the BBC and other positions of privilege, is nothing short of unbelievable. Yes, in case you are wondering (for those who might be reading this outside these shores), the same BBC which remains the flag bearer for everything good about being British.

The same BBC that trumpets the values of  this isle on every media format available to man. The same BBC which is now caught in an evil web of cover-ups and possible blindsiding of the very people who propped the corporation with their licence fee. That BBC...what an almighty fall from grace.

As their house of cards begin to fall, we the bystanders, have no choice but to watch open-mouth and disgusted to the pits of our stomachs. We know it will spread to other "trusted" bodies. Groups who are meant to protect and serve, but have conspired to turn predatory. Because we know this is just the beginning.....and we can't wait for the disgrace of this evil network of individuals to be truly complete.

Most importantly, for them and their ilk to remember, Justice, though slow sometimes....never tires....never forgets. One day, some heroes will break through the fear barrier and save us all.

To help people fighting child abuse please visit helpspreadthis.org

The Scaremonger's Paradise....

I am an eternal optimist....nothing really breaks my resolve.

Well, nothing except death, that is. Somehow I haven't been able to work that one out. The truncation of breathing and bodily functions, resulting in the complete shutdown of nature's most beautiful and complicated machines. It's a huge conundrum for my somewhat simple mind.

I don't know about you, but I have the greatest difficulty with the 'senseless' strain of this conundrum.

You know I mean, right? The type of death invoked by some loony who has lost all inspiration and has somehow managed to convince themselves the only way to impact the world around them, is to end as many lives as possible. On goes the guns, a suitcase full of bullets and hey presto!

It smacks of a special brand of selfishness, so narcissistic that the perpetrator has made a judgement call and decided they occupy a more important space and by right, a more significant purpose than the victims they  cut down. It's a sad state of affairs and the randomness with which it occurs, can only mean one thing......sooner or later, it will affect us all.

As our cities from continent to continent, become more known for the dastardly acts of the Grim Reaper's disciples, than the beautiful sights and people they hold, it appears even the most romantic of us can begin to see the finish line. Humanity has somehow short-circuited itself into a spiral of hopelessness and indeed, the falcon has started to lose its hearing and the falconer, his sight.

It may not occur to those of us who inhabit the more politically stable countries, but terrorism in all its guises, has taken over the world. The incident that is currently causing us so much revulsion in Boston, is a snippet of what the Iraqis and Afghanis experience on a daily basis! We are all caught in the eye of a most unpredictable storm and worryingly, a lot of us on this side of the world, don't seem aware of the sheer scale of the pervading destruction across the globe.

Personally, I have always believed that the moment we stepped into the abyss, was when people were getting blown up in their place of worship. Anyone who can detonate a device in a church or mosque, would not flinch when it comes to decimating a finish line in a sporting event.

In today's poor excuse for society, you work to get some funds for your holiday and alas, the method of transportation is a perpetual target for the off-key army. They spend copious hours plotting how to blow up your plane, helicopter, bus or train and if by chance, you do manage to evade the venom of their hubris, they track us down to our schools, universities, colleges, parks, bars, hotels and basically, anywhere you plan to have fun.

Age, creed, race, class are no longer determinants in how the end comes. Sooner or later, the United Nations will have to introduce the terrorism factor into their algorithms, as their boffins get together to calculate the latest indices of global life expectancy.

As it stands, a sudden movement or noise in any form of travel is already a cause for grave alarm. We are already being forced to live a life directed by the unhinged and an existence structured by psychopaths. It's the crazies who run the world now.....we are just living in it. Worst still, they look just like you and me, making them even harder to track down.

It's their time now and their weapon, fear, has become a global currency traded with impunity and shocking effectiveness.

But I am a keen student of history and my bookshelf is full of literature that tells me these things come around in phases. Change, I am told reliably, is the only constant and like I said at the beginning, I am an optimist.

Our time will come....

Margaret Thatcher and the Division of Memories

"It looks like one of the best birthdays I have ever had. There's no sympathy from me for what she did to our community. She destroyed our community, our villages and our people. For the union this could not come soon enough and I'm pleased that I have outlived her. "It's a great day for all the miners, I imagine we will have a counter demonstration when they have her funeral."

- David Hopper, general secretary of the Durham Miners' Association, who turned 70 a day after Margaret Thatcher's death.

A few months ago, I came across a piece written by Ngozi Chimamanda Adichie, entitled "We Remember Differently". It was a sobering, beautifully delivered, well-balanced article, which to my mind brought some maturity to what was an increasingly puerile debate, on the back of Chinua Achebe's book, "There was a Country". In his book, Achebe had placed sole blame on Obafemi Awolowo, the then Nigerian Finance Minister and number two man, for the Igbo's starvation during the Civil War and went on to forward a theory that he did so, to grab political power and advance his own people, the Yorubas. He damned Awolowo with his own words:

"All is fair in War and starvation is a weapon of War...."

In the midst of the furore that greeted the great man's book, Adichie successfully addressed not only the reasoning behind the lifelong antipathy Igbos now held for Awolowo, but went on to also explain some of the ethnic pictures which Nigerians had painted based on their version of historical memories. For me, her towering moment in the article was when she reminded some, of how the 1966 coup was viewed by some Nigerians as an Igbo vanguard to eliminate leaders of the Northern and Western regions, whilst sparing the Eastern premier. In conclusion, she hoped we would allow our different memories to sit side by side, rather than attack each other for holding disparate views.

Fast-forward to the demise of Margaret Thatcher and the euphoric reaction in some quarters to the passing of the woman most are calling the greatest British peace-time Prime Minister. To dispute Thatcher's greatness would of course be futile, as the history books will always remember her as the individual whose bloody-mindedness and purpose of cause, literally pulled the United Kingdom back from the precipice. Anyone who witnessed the civil collapse of the 70's and the resulting litter, industrial malfunction and dead bodies lying everywhere, would attest to the need for such a leader.

Of course, the very same qualities which ensured the country was straightened up from its bended-knee position, also meant the appointed culprit of the time, the trade unions (especially the mining industry), had to be broken for any progress to be made. In the quest for that dragon-slaying, Thatcher relentlessly pursued and destroyed the unions with a hardness that had not been previously seen in a British PM. Inevitably, the societies which were inextricably linked to those unions, still bear the scars of that bloody war.....yes, make no mistakes, everything Thatcher did, she did like a warrior. 

And I am almost certain she also believed all is fair in War...

Some people, especially those who live abroad may be unaware of the tsunami of jubilation that has greeted Thatcher's demise. There are people actually working franctically to organise parties to celebrate her death, whilst the mainstream gathers to honour her with a more dignified exit. To qualify further for the avoidance of doubt, the celebrations are not to celebrate her life, but to celebrate the fact she has finally died! 

The pit closures she effected did ruin those mining communities and I guess unless you live in those areas, one may not be qualified to comment, but I must saying seeing placards saying; 'The Bitch is Dead,' may have just been a bit too tasteless for my liking. 

Such anticipated hatred is probably behind the Thatcher family's request to not have a state funeral. It would be undignifyingly sad if such an iconic figure were interred surrounded by protest.

                           

On the other side of town, where Thatcher is revered, the story is unsurprisingly different. Her supporters, mostly from the south of the country, want her to have a full state funeral. Her popularity amongst this demographic is nothing short of immeasurable and they will be the people who inevitably line the streets to pay respect on her final journey. To call this group of people disciples may appear hyperbolic, but one can only ask observers to wait until the ceremonies begin to adjudge for themselves. 

As for the military tributes, they will definitely be full honours, but then only the very bitter would deny her that....her Falklands war adventures have more or less secured her position.

So how do I remember Margaret Thatcher?

Firstly, I think her greatest trick was to pass away whilst a Conservative PM was in Number 10. Aside from this, I remember her like a strong, old-fashioned Nigerian mother. An individual so concrete in their beliefs, the possibility of any wobble was a distant thought. I remember her the same way I remember my childhood neighbour who when her children became errant, would declare: "you either obey my rules or move out of my house" and actually meant it, as one of those kids was to find to their chagrin.

At the time, the woman's confidence, sure and unshaken, appeared unreasonable and wicked to some (especially moi), but a few days afterwards, the prodigal daughter returned home, tail between legs. It was an outcome the mother unwaveringly believed will occur...it was a warrior's decision, delivered with a warrior's instinct! This was the Thatcher instinct - a self-belief which had few fans, but 8 times out of 10, turned out to be correct.

Ironically, when one looked at a picture of Margaret Thatcher's cabinet, it was this lone woman in the centre of pompous public schoolboys, whose only exposure to female authority was probably when they were growing up at home. The manner in which she controlled, titillated, cajoled and ultimately put them all in their place, and the way in which they feebly reacted, but ultimately put her to the sword, would be my overall abiding memory of the most divisive British Prime Minister of all time.

Adieu Maggie....even in death, I am certain you would have wanted all these stories to be side by side, but then I cannot help but have this niggling suspicion you would not have really cared how your detractors remembered you. 

The Audacity of Hunger

Let's face it.....if history has taught us anything, it is that demagogues - though hard to shift - can be pushed over the precipice with a collective will. A will borne from such a special place, that it is always seismic and historical when achieved.

As millions across the globe yank at the chains shackling them, it appears the resultant noise has somewhat left us all befuddled and perhaps disorientated. Let us then for the benefit of this post, focus on Africa and ask ourselves how the injustices from the Cape to the Nile, go on unchecked. Worse still, when we begin to get aroused by the so-called 'springs' from the North, it inevitably transpires we have exerted our nerve endings in futility.

As attested to in the post-tsunami environments from whence the likes of Mubarak and Gaddafi, have been swept away with euphoric relish, the underlying conditions of instability, corruption and insecurity, still persist.   The poor are still poor, whilst the rich have never been richer. The cats at the top table all bear a disturbing resemblance to Kim Jong Un and the dogs waiting for the scraps at the bottom, are a mirror image of the poor canines rescued from an abusive breeder.

The question of course is this: how long can this go on?

The Undeniable Power of the Collective 

Forever, if you ask me.

I say this because there is no concrete evidence the trodden masses, especially in Africa, want any change. It appears pestilence and famishment have inexplicably become the opium of the masses. Somehow, people have been ravaged and kept down for so long, the ground is beginning to feel comfortable and more reassuring than a promised place at the middle table. I may be wrong, but it appears Africans have contracted that dreaded disease of not believing in a better future....a perfect scenario for its ruling elite.

My only note of warning for those who currently fly above the weather and appear impervious to the realities on ground is this: a few decades ago, Ghana (the current political poster boy of Africa) had an uprising, where the incoming leader went back almost two decades and rounded up every leader that had overseen the country's malaise. They were all summarily executed....the incoming leader was Jerry Rawlings (for the uninitiated).

At the time, he uttered these iconic words:

"I don't know any law and I don't understand economics, but I know it when my stomach is empty."

To take one's country back, one has to be prepared to do what hasn't been done before and in all the African states, a united opposition is the only way forward. The continent desperately requires patriots, who will do anything to protect the continent's pride and place, not diplomatic bitches who have become weak from repetitive bending of the knees!

The ruling elite is not infallible, but it is buoyed by our failure to unite, as it continuously applies the tried and tested ammunition of 'Divide and Rule,' passed down by you know who.

It is time though that people let them hear the violent rumblings of those empty stomachs.