It is snowing.
A downy grey sky of feather fall.
Heavy in my viscera, memory:
She, rowing opposite me, across
the London skyline.
Upon soft water, swans.
How happy, how loved. How
could it be
that I erased the slim lines of hope from the page?
Choosing instead
the blankness.
The blankness.
The snow erases the worn lines of the world.
A Kurdish Turk has been accused of murduring his daughter in a so called ‘honour killing’.
Honour killing is a misnomer.
It is better named a shame killing. Or just murder.
There is no honour in killing your daughter because she was raped, or because she loves someone not acceptable to your plans.
There is nothing but shame. Ugly, stupid, shame.
There are many examples of horrific honour killings, one more below:
On October 27, Turkish press reported that 15-year-old Naile Erdas from the southeastern city of Van was killed by her family when she gave birth to a child conceived during a rape. The girl, who hid her pregnancy, reportedly begged doctors at a state hospital where she gave birth not to return her to her family, fearing that she would be killed in accordance with the local tradition demanding her family’s honor be cleansed. Doctors informed state authorities, but the prosecutor nevertheless handed the young woman over to her family, which, as Naile feared, killed her. At year’s end, Naile’s uncles and father were under arrest for making the decision to kill her, while her brother, the suspected killer, remained at large. Source: US Department of state 2006 report
It seems to me that shame and religion go hand in hand, much like the Muslim men who wander the streets of (for instance) Tanzania or Saudi Arabia, holding each other’s hands, but to whom it is forbidden to even shake hands with a woman.
In the Qu’uran, a women is plainly stated as being only half the value of a man. In law as well as in mental aptitude.
In Judaism and hence Christianity, shame is brought upon poor innocent Adam through his spare rib partner, Eve, and her beguilement by a bad, wise, snake.
Woman are basically bad and they bring shame about for men.
In Islam women are asked (in stricter regimes some would say forced) to don the Hijab and to cover themselves and their ‘ornaments’. In Wahhabist Islam (the form of Islam most prevalent, possibly due to the fact that it is the harsh form Saudi Arabia practices, promotes and exports using her vast material resources) Women must cover up, essentially because if they don’t, men can’t be held accountable for the shameful things they will do.
This topsy-turvy logic is evinced in the abhorrent way Sharia law is sometimes enacted:
Some people defend their mediaeval beliefs by saying that the old texts give them a moral structure to adhere to, but I think to anyone who cares about what is ethical, or humane, these texts are predominantly unsacred products of their barbaric times – often used to excuse terrible acts and ideas.
Honour killing is just one such terrible act.
A shameful and unacceptable practice, dishonourable in the extreme.
I was suprised upon viewing Newham Council’s website that they had chosen to promote ‘Black history month’ with an image of many notable black icons…and Gandhi.
Apparently:
‘Newham’s libraries are holding a series of free events throughout October to celebrate Black History Month.
Highlights include…an exhibition on the life of Gandhi which is touring Stratford Library, East Ham Library and The Gate, Forest Gate throughout October.’
Gandi is an interesting choice for Black History Month. Most obviously because he was not black.
But perhaps more pertinently because in his time in South Africa he appeared to be actively racist with regard to black people. He used the term ‘kaffir’ to refer to them and directed his efforts solely at the plight of the Indians there. He is quoted as saying, for instance:
“Ours is on continual struggle against a degradation sought to be inflicted upon us by the Europeans, who desire to degrade us to the level of the raw Kaffir whose occupation is hunting, and whose sole ambition is to collect a certain number of cattle to buy a wife with and, then, pass his life of indolence and nakedness.”
Of course, Gandhi was a great freedom fighter and an heroic practitioner of non-violent protest.
He also absolutely refuted any divinity attributed to him and refused to be called Mahatma. He acknowledged that he was just a man, and he was very honest about his flaws – in his autobiography he reflected that in his youth he was flawed, he beat his wife for instance.
It is other people who have attributed to him a saintliness and perfection that simply is unrealistic. He has become symbolic rather than real and as such the facts of history have been obscured.
The overtly racist caste system of the Hindu faith, where (to simplify) the blacker you are the more lowly you are (the untouchables) and the whiter you are the more divine (Brahmins) was bravely defied by Gandhi, who went on hunger strike to demand its abolition. But Gandhi’s contemporary B.R. Ambedkar points out that the truth is more complicated than this in his book ‘what congress and Ghandi have done to the untouchables’, here Gandhi is quoted as supporting the caste system in 1921, then proposing subtle changes to it, in 1925.
Others, such as Mark Linley show that Gandhi’s ideas developed over time and that he came to see the need to destroy the caste system through intermarriage.
My opinion is that Gandhi was a noble and brave man who did much good. That in his youth and life he was imperfect is no suprise and should not detract from his inspiring actions. But I think there is more value in knowing about him in his entirety rather than reducing him to a saintly charicature. He was a human being, human beings are complex, it is foolish and trite to blind yourself for the sake of simplicity or facility. History is more than just black and white.
Gandhi was a great man, who unified Muslim and Hindu India through his non-violent efforts. I think he was more great for his own acknowledgement of his flaws, which was part of his practising of Ahimsa (do no harm). That level of honesty is more brave than the clumsy beatification of well meaning ignorance.
Asa Kusa, Mornington Crescent, is my favourite Japanese restaurant in London.
Maybe it is the pokey nature of the interior layout, the shabby decor, the service which is often inattentive. Or maybe it is just the excellent, delicious, food.
Whatever it is, I like it.
Anyway, if you ever go there, I recommend the deep fried oysters and…well…everything else.
Sushi is seemingly healthy, although I’ve been told it damages your liver. (Further reading suggests that this seems to be a problem relevant specifically to South East Asia)
Boo hoo.
Sushi is great.
Except when it is DESTROYING THE WORLD like a big fishy Godzilla. Make sure your Sushi is sustainable.
Bluefin tuna is particularly eco-unfriendly, and swanky Sushi chain Nobu is being boycotted by fish and Earth lovers alike because of its bluefin desecrating menu.
Ideas to make the world a better place, part one in an irregular series.
Terrorists aim to create a climate of fear and insecurity, this is their modus operandi. But the way they do so is, frankly, not on. There tends to be a lot of death and malice involved.
So, why not channel this negative energy into some more positive form?
They could get jobs at the London dungeon – or we could all chip in and create a new attraction ‘the terror experience’, and the Taliban, the Saudi terror cells behind 911 and the real IRA (amongst others, we would have to have an equality policy that did not discriminate against types of terrorist) could all, in a controlled and fun way, frighten us with their hi-jinks. Popping balloons in the dark and taking us ‘hostage’, or blowing up buses and what not in a Universal studios sort of a way.
Then at the end they could hand out leaflets with money saving vouchers for the gift shop and a short description of what their beef is.
I am sat in a cafe watching the spiral galaxy of milk cool into being in the black night coffee before me.
I imagine a ballerina in a music box, sparkling, swirling; a segue into a memory faded in the sun and rain.
When it has settled, the liquid in the cup takes on a donkeyish colour, dun and homely.
I taste bittersweetness with a silent tongue.
And I take my time.
I am passing time.
Time.
How much do you get?
Fewer than a 1000 months.
I am wasting time.
It is as if I am stood knee deep in a shallow sea, basking in the calm warmth, waving to the shore when the memory of love hits me like a surging wave, risen up behind me to crash down with all the might the hurtling planet can summon.
I am submerged. Sucked down into the light-flecked depths, drawn into the swirling dark. Gasping in shock, my lungs fill with salted black sorrow. I ache. For the air, the light. For her. Sustaining, buoyant, love.
How much I loved her. I had never known the power of love. That is could sweep you out to sea; convey you beyond reason; beyond safety out into the expanses of the ocean.
Fear. Is what drowns you. To escape the clutch of the deadly current, you must be calm, you must follow the whims of its turning, swim with it, take your time. To struggle is to tire, to drown.
Love and fear are opposites. They fight. I wish that I had let love win. I wish I had let the current take me. Instead, I fought against it. Drowned.
I lost her. I discarded her. I drowned our love.
Now, I am cursed, like the sea, to repeat the same motions, to rest my aching head on the shore for a moment, then to be drawn back into the morass. The ever shifting morass.
The UCKG is the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God.
You know what, they probably do some good. They pop up in poor communities and offer salvation to some of those most in need.
So what if they require you to give 10 per cent of your income to them as a ‘tithe’?
“Tithes are central to the UCKG’s doctrines. It is expected that each member give 10 per cent of his total pre-tax income to the church. This means 10 per cent of all income: not just salary, but child benefit, pension, student grants, loans, interest, everything. Even people on the dole are expected to give up 10 per cent”
Okay, so you are poor and can ill afford to give some ropey organisation your money, but look at all the great things that happen when you do:
Bank errors are sorted, promotions obtained, jobs offered – all by the miracle of God!
So what if it is run by a Brazilian Tycoon, Edir Macedo, who was briefly jailed for fraud.
So what if the murderers of Victoria Climbie attended the Church and pastors there claimed she was ‘possessed’:
“The eight-year-old attended the UCKG with her aunt on several occasions.
One pastor from the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God (UCKG), in north London, said the eight-year old was “possessed” and ran down the aisle during a service, screaming: “Prayer doesn’t help”. Carl Manning told the Old Bailey that Kouao had coached ‘Anna’ (Victoria was her given name, but her killers called her Anna) to make the run.
Another pastor, Alvero Lima, admitted he thought the child was “possessed” and offered to drive the Devil out at one of the UCKG’s weekly Friday “deliverance” services, at which the church offers strong prayer to “destroy witchcraft, devil possession, bad luck, bad dreams and spiritual problems”.”
Source: BBC, Independent
So what. I’m sure they do some good.
Mr Topper is a chain of London hairdressers. They offer cheap haircuts. What’s wrong with that? Nothing! It’s a good thing. I am all for it, especially in today’s Credit Crunched Broken Britain of hoodies and alcopops.
The only thing I take issue with is their logo, which irritates me more than is proportional.
They have chosen as their emblem a Frog.
Frogs don’t have hair!
Not only that, not only does the Frog not have any hair.
But he’s wearing a hat!
What sort of message does that send?
Why have they chosen as their ambassador a hairless frog who wears a hat?
I need to take a relaxing walk.
