FROM THE BOILING PAN INTO THE FIRE...

This month (of June) the respected broadcaster and writer Darcus Howe, impressed me with a short piece regarding teenage murders in his London’s The Voice, column (“Vex in the City”).
Giving an example of his recent holiday in the Caribbean he broadens the subject by citing youth killings in Trinidad, Barbados and Jamaica. As he returns to the UK headlines scream the same chilling problem(29 murderers so far in 6 months). YOUTH MURDERS ARE A GLOBAL PROBLEM, he reminds us.
“The Caribbean, Latin America and Africa have produced a mass of young men who have taken to killing each other like ducks to water…They are casualties of an increasingly globalised world that offers them nothing but a disconnection from values of the generation that preceded them.”
In other words values that we of past generations learnt (and still, luckily upheld) are out of reach with this feuding, green generation. Of course throughout history young men have had fights. But this is different. Children are scared. Parents are worried...in the old days there was honour, kids used fists; you defeat me, i accept; today it is about cemeteries. No winners.
Bad vibes. Full stop.

But what are the values that Darcus Howe is talking about?
Humility, respect, good manners; which youngsters learn via respective parents, religion, school and community education.
Today the young see (and have) more possibilities, opportunities and information yet lack stability (broken families); broken politics and role models some who are themselves, broken celebrities. Celebrities with ragged egos, drug addict entertainers, arrogant entertainers some so stupid that they happily pass their rubbish to these eager hero worshipping youngsters.
Remember the young fella with a hood, hanging pants and a sulk playing his loud music on his mobile phone in the bus which irritates you but you (impontently) cannot do anything? Not because you are scared of him (a baby) but of the law, the consequences of, lack of citizen's power, common sense...
One such "hanging pants" confessed to me. When he listens to rap music it (sometimes) makes him feel like ripping someone’s head off. In other words: Inspired Aggression. Negative Energy. Some of today's Pop Music has become substitute to that essential basic education. For good manners, good behaviour, etiquette, respect.
And hence.
You stare at me, I stab you.
You give me bad looks, I stab you and END your life.
You step on my foot, I KILL you.
That is one story.

The other is Aserma Dawitt.
A promising 15 year old school girl from Eritrea, in East Africa, killed in London beginning of June. Arsema was living with her mother and two siblings, having fled the fires of war in her homeland to find solace, peace, education and a possible future in Europe, but met her death in a lift of her flat(pictured above). Arsema was a remarkable student who went to church, devotedly. Ironically, it was in the same church that she met her 21 year old, killer who became obsessed with her.
The mother of the deceased criticised the police for not protecting her victim after informing them of the threats.
There are thousands stories to tell.
Loads.

THIS WEEKEND'S PROFILE...

THE MESMERISING BLUES OF STILL JREMING
Check out this wonderful Blues Musician.
Yes, Blues...
But... hold on.
Some of us may still equate Blues to old fashioned, slow, boring, mambo jumbo. Forgetting it is the bedrock, speaking melodically, (just like African drums are parents of world rhythms) of all modern, pop music.
Music, is however, a matter of taste so, without appearing to push something you dont like down your throat; may i add quickly...
I like the simplistic, straightfoward, peaceful but intense, well crafted music and guitar of Mr. Jean-Rene who says he is also an organic chemist.
This guy's stuff speaks more volumes than the rubbish we see promoted by huge record companies: scowling, snarling, finger pointing bad vibes; so called singers with no subsistence.
OK. I have also snarled at someone's art.
There is freedom of speech and self expression.
However, am concerned by the social results. A 27 year old guy was telling me the other day how he used to love gangsta rap a few years back. " I would listen to some of these chaps and immediately feel like fighting or ripping someone's teeth out."
Honestly?
"Oh yes. Thats why i have stopped listening. I have become more choosy."
It is amazing how music is subtly, contributing to the disrespect on our streets today. Check out yobs playing their loud stuff openly on their mobiles. You have to bear and "take" it ; like it or not. Freedom.
Come to London.
Tales of someone being stabbed for staring at scowling yobs has become "normal" news in the media.
A forty something colleague was saying how he was told to F-K OFF! ...simply for looking, accidentally, at yobs being rowdy at a public place.
"I mean, I wasn't even staring, my face seemed to be in their line, visually, I didn't will my eyes to look... i was just facing their way as i walked ... i was, abused menacingly and told to F-K OFF three times!"

We cannot even stare at one another?
This is not even about ear damage.
These individual's ears are going to be in a mess in later years. They should speak to legendary WHO musician Peter Townsend or ex President Bill Clinton. The two are standing testimonials to loud music and misusing senses in your youth.
That's why this Blues Man is my Weekend's profile. A vibe of the times.
A healthy vibe. A crucial vibe...needed to heal our morally puking societies.

Thank you friend for sending me the clip.
Happy Sundays.

Indifference to Ongoing Women World Cup In Beijing…

Another appropriate word is nonchalant.
As though it is not happening.
I always overhear women saying “I hate football”, “It is a men’s game!” or “I can’t stand those bands of blokes singing ugly songs, drinking beer, shouting and fighting.”
Fair enough. Football (soccer, in the USA), can be rough and recently some dreadful skirmishes were recorded at London’s King’s Cross station where 150 violent fans from the Arsenal –Tottenham match (the previous weekend) left a 38 year old man hospitalised. Daniel King, sports columnist with Mail on Sunday wrote “sorry to mention it but violence is back” in football. Such stories of course will continue to put women who dislike Pele’s beautiful game, off it.
This is, nevertheless, for me, the exception rather than the rule.

I have been to many football matches in various parts of the world (including Latin America and Europe) where soccer attendance consisted of many happy chanting families and children. It can be a special outing where you can really express yourself verbally. It is also a national cultural event whereby identity is the motive.
On Wednesday (tomorrow) the ongoing women’s world cup in Beijing China enters it’s semi-finals. I have been watching some of the matches and they have been excellent, magical. The standard of playing has been amazing, especially if you observe top class players from Norway, Germany, USA, Brazil and England. The model of playing contrary to those who think this is girlie football ( and I was one of them too) is as good as any man’s game. You cannot deny that Brazil’s mesmerising players Marta and Formiga and England’s Kelly Smith and captain Faye White are great entertainers and fantastic dribblers. The only thing that I found appalling was goalkeeping. So many goals conceded proved it to be the weakest link. Think of the Eleven goals netted against the Argentinean side by Germany during the early matches. Or Ghana being trounced by Australia, New Zealand by Brazil. Many goals, some of them pathetic at the keeper’s kitchen.
But that can be rectified as years go on. Otherwise, I thought the level of the game ( and I was watching one match with a lady who likes football, who agreed too) is really blossoming and the technique of goal control, team work, short and long passes, finishing touches, the goals; absolutely thrilling. Superb.
But what beats me, and this is the intention of this blog entry, is this. Why aren’t women bothered by the World Cup contest? Many times I have been puzzled by the lukewarm response, the surprise when I mentioned it.
“Did you see Marta last night?”
Who is Marta?
They don’t know Brazil’s top goal scorer (female FIFA's world best player)who has been dubbed Pele In A Skirt, or England’s Kelly Smith, the female Zinedine Zidane.
“You heard how Germany trounced Argentina eleven goals?”
What, where, which, when?
“You don’t know there is a Women’s World Cup going on in China?”
Shrug. Sigh. Pout. I don’t like football.
And then there is the media. Female columnists are not even mentioning the games. They are not commenting on the wonderful expertise and skills and beauty of their fellow female sports-ladies; they are not reacting. And the mainstream media itself is merely giving very little tiny brief reports of the matches. I am shocked by the lack of pictures, the absence of headlines. BBC television shows highlights of some of these matches in the dead of the night, usually midnight. Which is understandable because of the time zone difference ….(It was the same with the African Winners Cup in 2006)…However, if someone likes something they can video tape and watch it the next day.
Beats me.
And Then.
Why call football (soccer) a man’s game? Why football in particular? Why are all other sports (not excluding violent boxing), athletics, tennis and so on equally shared? What is the problem here? Yes. Many governments and countries have not put much in female soccer but that shouldn’t be the excuse if there are female football geniuses and stars and the games are entertaining and as good as any other championship ones. Kelly Smith herself said in an interview that when she was younger she used to be discouraged from playing by both females and males. Perhaps that is part of the answer.
And.
When we hear equal rights and emancipation what does it mean exactly?

Unpleasant Experiences…

Maybe I should title this The Theme of Ruthlessness; but, that is too one sided. Experiences are there to remind us.
Unpleasant incidents are teachers. Judges. Saints. Jugglers.
They come and go. They shall always B there.
So I pleaded. He said NO!
I ridiculed him. He didn’t FLINCH!


I turned to my friend the camera and snapped hoping to remember the occasion. Posterity.
He said calmly : “ I will take yours, too.”
That got me thinking of a rock, a cliff, a wall which you puSH and end up hurting your own SHoulders.
Slippery eel.

I could only wallow in self pity and philosophy: “What comes around goes around…”
Ever spat to the sea?
Spit to the ocean and your tiny, tiny speck is nothing to the gargantuan distance of waters, it is consumed. Sucked by a larger family of liquids.
“I am just doing my job,” He muttered, going away, leaving, carrying my anger, venom, frustration…
He smacked me with a packing ticket, 80 pounds (160 Dollars) in total, REDUCTION OF 50% IF PAID WITHIN 14 DAYS…

It was like this.
Sunny Tuesday afternoon, September 18th, 2007. I am in Clissold Park jogging and exercising, the sun is shining; it is still very green; early Autumn.
I parked, paid £2 for an hour.
Finished and sweaty, I was about to drive off when I saw this crow pouncing on a pigeon. A rare scene. No sooner was I about to snap, than the crow had a change of mind ( or so, assuming )…I was left with a pigeon and some purple flowers.
Then I turned to see the man in uniform sticking a ticket fine on my vehicle.
“Hey!”
I am running now. Desperation. I was just by the corner. Please.
“Even if it is ONE minute, you still get it, mate…”
He was busy scribbling.
We are living in the era of clicking buttons. Starts from simple things- like text messages, ending relationships via emails; downloading the good and the bad, to buttons that are switched to shock, awe and bomb. Done. Nuclear age. Done. Terrorism.

Around us curious onlookers watched, a bloke shook his head in sympathetic, bewildered, exasperation as the parking attendant scooped out his camera and started snapping the car and me. I read a sentence on the Penalty Charge sheet that screamed on the machine’s windshield:
“Photography may be used for evidence purposes…”
(In case a driver refuses to pay. But I wasn’t refusing. I was merely requesting consideration; circumstantial conditions…)
He won.
I got the fine. Ruthlessness won.
They get quotas, it is not just about right or wrong, a passing Lady reminded.
“You may publish me in your Book…put me in your Website. " The Man declared strolling away.
Wrong Words, Tough Guy.
B L O G.