Thought Picnic: Identity Formed by Timing

Returning After War

Way back in my late teens, I had a friend, or someone I thought was a friend. We were agemates, and something interesting and significant caught my attention. It seemed that those who returned from the UK at the end of the Nigerian Civil War integrated better, taking up the growing opportunities in a recovering country, than those who did so almost a decade later.

Between those who returned well under the age of ten and those in their early teens, there was a generational difference in adaptation, a sense of being caught adrift. Staying in the UK for longer proved less beneficial to their sense of belonging or identity; though they had better English accents, they were unsettled, and sometimes having a less prosperous time of it.

A Shared Beginning

For some context, the people I write about and I were all born in the UK in the 1960s. I returned to Nigeria well under the age of ten, having barely been exposed to inner city mechanics and situations; they returned in their teens, late in the 1970s. What separated us, then, was not origin but timing. We were cut from the same cloth, yet a few years of divergence would shape us differently.

My observations are, of course, anecdotal rather than academic. Even so, I think the age-of-return hypothesis is significant, and I have alluded to it in other blogs. It is the quiet variable running beneath everything I am about to describe.

An AI-generated infographic on the blog content. (Click to enlarge.)

What They Brought

What they brought into the fray was a sense of fun. They were the best chess players and had figured out how to solve the Rubik's cube, though they were not better Scrabble players. The Nigerian educational system was a challenge, amongst the other things that left them yearning to return to the UK, if only they had the opportunity.

They were a restless lot, and of the many, there were two who, on reflection, had been exposed to the race and deprivation politics and the discrimination of the 1970s into the 1980s. They carried the scars of inner-city influences, influences that would not have engendered the most positive sense of self and status, even in Nigeria.

They were suspicious before they were trusting, questioning more than listening, ready to respond with violence on a dare without first putting things in perspective. That people envied their exposure, without understanding how they were the personification of a social construct beyond their control, one that amounted to a material deficit, could make for an interesting study.

An Identity Formed at Home

Here is where the timing mattered most. My blackness was always simply part of me, and that was settled in Nigeria, quietly and without apology, long before it was ever questioned. I grew up where blackness needed no explanation and carried no burden; it was simply the ground I stood on. There was nothing to defend, because nothing had been challenged.

So, when I returned to the UK, and the racist abuse came, as it did, it met an identity that was already whole. The abuse did not shape how I saw myself; it had arrived too late for that. I could regard it as a reflection of the abuser rather than a depiction of myself, precisely because the depiction had been drawn elsewhere, at home, on my own terms.

The teenage returnees, I suspect, had that sequence reversed. Their sense of racial self was worked out amid the hostility, not before it, and so the hostility got inside, where mine never could.

A Sudden Slap

This friend of mine gave me a stinging slap after a dare, a playful situation that suddenly turned strange. It taught me a few things. I would not rise to a dare that I had no intention of acting on in the first place. I do not care if I am called a chicken; they are the hardiest and most abused of animals, and they probably possess the greatest survival instinct and resilience in the animal kingdom.

As a consequence, I have no fear of missing out. I am usually told that I do not know what I am missing, to which I would respond that I cannot miss what I do not know. A slap is a momentary event with no follow-on; the embarrassment quickly fades into irrelevance. My temperament is not conditioned for violence. I am comfortable letting things slide, because what defines me is character, not machismo. Class is always understated, never dramatic.

On Character and Circumstance

I think environments and societal settings can influence character as much as mould it, though to varying extents. I cannot speak to the sociological truth of that. Yet I am left wondering whether my own equanimity was truly character, or simply the good fortune of a gentler formative environment, a self settled before it was ever tested.

Perhaps that is the paradox worth sitting with. The returnees had the richer exposure by one measure, the metropolitan UK, the accents, the chess and the Rubik's cube, yet the more unsettled outcome by another. I had the lesser exposure, yet the steadier sense of who I was. Sometimes, it seems, less can be more.

A Gemini Notebook AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: The Many Mirrors of Criticism

The Mirror and Its Drip

Criticism is a mirror, but not all mirrors are polished the same way. The polishing might bring clarity, or the mode of polishing might scratch the surface and distort what we see. When we look in the mirror, we hope to see the best reflection of ourselves rather than a caricature that makes us recoil.

Dripping criticism is subtle and persistent. It is the raised eyebrow, the “interesting choice” comment, the slow leak of disapproval that erodes confidence over time. A manager who says, every week, “We'll need to tighten this up eventually,” without clarity or support, creates doubt rather than direction.

I dare say this almost always comes from familiar settings: the parent who has constantly said something that becomes ingrained in memory, a habit formed with the intent to change yet one that does the opposite, creating tension, resistance, and resentment.

Left unchecked, those early and well-meant words settle into the inner critic we carry into adulthood, a voice that goes on speaking in a parent's cadence long after the parent has fallen silent.

Burning on Contact

Caustic criticism burns on contact. It is sharp, often clever, and sometimes public. “Did you even read the brief?” may get a laugh from bystanders, but it scars the recipient. Its power lies in humiliation, not improvement.

Its purpose is to reduce a person to insignificance; it highlights inadequacy in order to expose weakness. The person on the receiving end is likely to shrink, wishing the ground would open so they might fall into the crevasse. It is wholly unkind, the bailiwick of the sociopath.

Tearing Down

Destructive criticism tears down without offering a path forward. “This whole plan is a mess” ends the conversation instead of advancing it. It may be emotionally satisfying to the critic, but it leaves both the work and the worker diminished.

This goes beyond cynicism; it is the need to complain without helping or offering solutions. It sees the problem clearly yet fails to realise that identification is not resolution. There is a close cousin here in withering criticism, the scornful, contemptuous remark designed to make a person wilt on the spot.

It borrows the sting of the caustic and the finality of the destructive, which is perhaps why it is so hard to place: it wounds like the one and forecloses like the other.

Care and Clarity

Constructive criticism, by contrast, is anchored in care and clarity. It names the issue and points towards growth. “The introduction is strong. The argument would be clearer if you added evidence in paragraph two” respects both the person and the goal. It assumes capability.

This brings the best of helpfulness to the fore: empathy, guidance, and emotional intelligence, which engender growth and productivity. It takes a wholly different mindset. Yet every sort of criticism, given with the right intentions, can become constructive; it depends on motivation, desire, and drive.

Gentler Forms and Love

There are gentler forms too. Reflective criticism asks questions rather than making declarations. “What outcome were you hoping for here?” invites ownership.

Self-criticism, when healthy, refines craft and character; when excessive, it becomes an internalised drip. Cultural criticism challenges norms and systems rather than individuals, asking whether the rules themselves deserve revision.

Ultimately, criticism reveals as much about the giver as the receiver. The best criticism carries three traits: specificity, proportionality, and goodwill. Without goodwill, it corrodes. With goodwill, even hard truths can build something stronger than what existed before.

Its reach is wider than the work in hand, for over time criticism shapes confidence and character, bolsters or erodes self-esteem, tips us towards obstinacy or leaves us open to persuasion, and quietly colours the way we see the world; but that is a thread for another day.

Beyond goodwill, perhaps the real driver of the best kind of criticism is love: a deep love, concerned to bring about the kind of change in others that we wish for ourselves. The root of that is self-love, from whence springs the ability to love and to be loved in return.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: On the journey without alternative

Knowing yourself

You find there are times of self-appraisal and self-assessment that leads to a deconstruction of who you are to its fundamental and unencumbered state, where all you have to see is your sheer humanity in all its vulnerabilities, no ego lurking and imposing. It is like viewing yourself just before you step in the shower, warts and all without any embellishment.

In the workshop of thought, reminisce, and meditation that resides in the factory of my cranium, scarcely would I invite any to visit even if they have adorned the highest industry-standard protections to shield themselves from harm, it is a fiery and industrious space, as much as it can be calm and resourceful.

Being known

As to what kind of person I am, much of which can be exposed in conversations with those who know me very well and maybe too well to be comfortable with, I might have struck them as both strange and sometimes unserious and irreverently playful. I am not sure I need to apologise for what they already know and can vouch for in terms of what and who they believe I am.

When I set a course and I do not want to shift or deviate, I probably do not want to be distracted from what I have decided to do. Essentially, I am not a Plan B kind of person, my temperament is not suited to straddling and accommodating many options in a whack-a-mole game of chance in the hope that I hit something or something works. The future might not be sure, and neither should it be the theatre of a gamble even if choices give a dabble.

I see

There is a fight in my conscience, the need to follow my deepest premonitions and probably premonition is the wrong word because sometimes, in the midst of the storm comes a calm, a word of encouragement and assurance, the kind that tells you that first you are not alone and then there is a path where there seems to be absolutely no way.

They call that a breakthrough, it is usually not a plan, just life becoming the time when you think and say to others, I really wonder how that happened.

Beyond the wish is the heart’s desire, the pictures that have been drawn and redrawn in the recesses of that factory that you are only a hair’s breadth from seeing those things that were not as though they were in materiality and experience. All things are possible and that is just it.

Thought Picnic: I keep keeping on

Where we are and have been

Sometimes, I have to ask myself, what the image of success is in my own life and when looking around me. In the things I have done before, I have been quite successful, so the concept is not an alien one, there are so many references to suggest that favour and good fortune have been present in many areas of personal endeavour.

Then I think of times when it appears things are not essentially working in my favour and my attitude towards such situations. Generally, my outlook is positive, and the way I present is usually upbeat, yet all appearances could sometimes mask inner turmoil, the struggle to assert oneself, along with an apparent failing in confidence.

The mission is to believe always

At this point, I need to believe in myself and recognise those who believe in me, these things do happen and on speaking to one of my senior managers recently, he assured me that it happens to the best of us, we just need to keep believing in ourselves, despite the unfavourable, unfortunate, or frustrating prevailing circumstances.

To press a point about certain ideas I have, the ghost of a mentor was resurrected for me to reconsider certain aims, it just so happened that I also had a contrary retort from the same mentor when I was at crossroads, some 12 years ago. Nothing is entirely sacred or sacrosanct despite the respect accorded our mutual mentor.

I keep keeping on

Indeed, I want it all to go away, even a crazy thought or two has tried to reach into my mind that I have refused to entertain. I try not to dwell on aspects where it seems I have failed myself, lost my discipline and yield to distractions that convey me to harmful conduct. I do wonder if I have prayed hard enough or done everything I need to do, many of those things I probably do not at all want to do if I had any other option.

I count the many blessings that keep me telling amazing stories and the reality that there are phases in life, some long and others short, some with obvious cause and others not quite so obvious, altogether impactful in forming character, resilience, purpose, and direction. I may be down, but I will never be out until there is no breath, heartbeat, or hope to keep me going. That is a promise here and from on high.

There are things to do and places to go! [Bible Gateway - Romans 8:14 (The Message)]

#PartyGate: Of the conceited kakistocrat of 10 Downing Street

He is impervious to contrition

It has come as no surprise, at least not to me that Prime Minister Boris Johnson has indicated that he has no intention of resigning after the submission of the #PartyGate report, in fact, after having escaped the necessity of The Queen demanding his resignation after he lied to her majesty on the illegal prorogation of 2019, it was obvious that he has no character, dignity, integrity, embarrassment, sense of responsibility, or shame that could lead to his relinquishing office except by the loss of an election. [BBC News: Sue Gray report: Drunken No 10 party culture in lockdown laid bare]

What is disturbing is the realisation that the United Kingdom is in the unconscionable grip of a kakistocracy never seen in the performance of government ever. A man who has had an undistinguished record of being unable to acquaint himself with the truth that he would lie with such ease and no pang of conscience, who is ready to abandon international treaties that he himself negotiated and signed because of the inconvenience that has exposed his double-dealing and perfidy is not on a journey to become a better man.

Here is one who does not believe he should be held accountable for anything; he constantly gets away with impunity even as his acolytes have joined in his way of doing things to preserve the perverse. Apparently, we met with Conservative MPs and said he was sorry, just like the boy who cried wolf and they believe him. Boris Johnson in his arrogance and conceit is incapable of contrition, but more fool them, as they know who he is and now choose to vouch for his honesty and sincerity.

An unprincipled lot

When friends suggested his brush with a possible COVID death might moderate his outlook and behaviour, I knew Boris Johnson had no redeeming quality that could help him reflect on infirmity or adversity to see a reform of his character, he is utterly rotten to the core. Sadly, his party has become the freemasonry of the unprincipled that would coalesce rather than rid themselves of this pox on our democracy.

If truth and justice cannot be the lodestar of our government and democracy, you can only wonder what these people would allow to happen, if they ever think there is any need to have any sense or purpose. The handful of Tory MPs that have any semblance of integrity are too few to move the needle.

Self-interest rather than national interest is the guidance for most of them and some would be let out like rabid dogs on our televisions to defend the indefensible perfidiously that Beelzebub the father of lies would find himself an amateur to their parselmouths.

Somehow, we are just left with no other choice than to watch and hope that they would exhaust themselves and go the way of oblivion with history judging them as the worst that has ever come to power, the bookend of Queen Elizabeth's amazing reign besmirched by an intolerable government.

Child Sexual Abuse: Felicia Ogbuja is justly going to jail

They abused their ward

I was first outraged when I read a tweet that appeared to conflate two separate though intrinsically related issues regarding child sexual abuse, safeguarding, duty of care, the obstruction of an investigation that could have led to justice and in the middle of it all the resulting death of a 13-year-old schoolgirl, Miss Ochanya Ogbanje. [Premium Times: Ochanya: State court acquits husband of raping minor, federal court convicts wife of negligence]

Felicia Ochiga-Ogbuja was the aunt(-in-law) of the deceased, and her alleged child-abusing husband, Andrew Ogbuja; a lecturer at the Benue State Polytechnic, her alleged child-abusing son, Victor Ogbuja; who is currently a fugitive from justice, are maternal relations of the deceased, meaning the former was her uncle and the latter was her first cousin, mentioned also is Winifred Ogbuja, another first cousin of the deceased. Ochanya Ogbanje had left the village to live with relations of her mother to be cared for and supported in her education by this family.

They terrorised their ward

Whilst the chronology of events is not clearly established, it would appear that Winifred had informed her mother Felicia of the ongoing sexual abuse of Ochanya by both Andrew and Victor which Felicia failed to stop and had apparently threatened to eject the schoolgirl from her house if she told anyone of the sexual abuse.

The terrified schoolgirl left with no protection from assault by her supposedly responsible guardians endured further abuse from the pair of males in the house until the time that she was seriously harmed presenting urinary and faecal incontinence with a diagnosis of Vesicovaginal fistula (VVF) attributed to serial sexual rape allegedly perpetrated by both men, for which Ochanya was hospitalised for two months until her untimely death.

They let him go

It leaves one baffled given the medical history of Ochanya that the Medical Centre in Makurdi would ineptly conclude that Ochanya died of natural causes and the Police Forensic Laboratory reached another conclusion that she died of diseases that were related to sexual abuse.

It is unfortunate that Justice Augustine Ityonyiman of the Benue State High Court decided to err on the side of caution, questioning the preponderance of evidence, including video evidence of the deceased narrating her ordeal, even as the prosecution bungled the criminal case that he acquitted Andrew Ogbuja of raping and causing the death of Ochanya Ogbanje.

They got her here

At the Federal High Court in Makurdi, Felicia Ogbuja, the aunt faced another charge of negligence leading to the rape and the death of Miss Ochanya Ogbanje, brought by The National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP) before Justice Mobolaji Olajuwon.

The case was made that Felicia had knowledge of the fact that Ochanya was being sexually abused by her husband and her son, after first being informed by her daughter Winifred and then went on to threaten Ochanya with eviction if the girl mentioned her ordeal to anyone, after which she impeded and obstructed NAPTIP from gathering information from her daughter after the cause of Ochanya’s ailment was determined when admitted in the hospital.

Her omission to perform

As a consequence, Felicia neither challenged nor controverted the presented evidence, she was left culpable and if not an accessory to child sexual rape that consequently resulted in the death of a ward under the care of her family. Hence, she was found guilty as charged contrary to Section 314 of the Criminal Code Act in Nigeria.

When the cause of death is an omission to observe or perform a duty, the period is reckoned inclusive of the day on which the omission ceased.

When the cause of death is in part an unlawful act, and in part an omission to observe or perform a duty, the period is reckoned inclusive of the day on which the last unlawful act was done or the day on which the omission ceased, whichever is the later. https://jurist.ng/criminal_code_act/sec-314

The subsections shown above, indicate the death of Miss Ochanya Ogbanje was caused in part by the unlawful act of sexual assault allegedly perpetrated by both her uncle and her cousin, for which no one has yet been held duly accountable. Her death was also caused in part by the omission to observe when informed by her daughter that her ward was being abused by both her husband and her son and her decision not to perform a duty of care and protection on her ward once Felicia came into the knowledge of the child sexual abuse.

Negligence is a crime

Knowing she had another girl in the home, her own daughter, one would have expected her to offer a modicum of motherly protection to the girl living in her family home, to whom she might not have been a blood relation, but had a pertinent relationship with the responsibility and authority to do something, but she exacerbated the harm, for which there had to be consequence and NAPTIP should be commended for pursuing the case to a conclusion, viewing the victim as trafficked for sexual purposes, since the responsible adults did not intervene.

Child sexual abuse is too much a taboo subject in Nigeria, too many of us bear scars of child sexual abuse not pursued to fully prosecute perpetrators and obtain justice for the victims. Sadly, responsible adults in the environment where it occurs, rather than address the matter would opt for a cover-up giving license to predators to continue their abuse of minors.

Whilst this case of Ochanya Ogbanje might seem a miscarriage of justice as the alleged perpetrators have not been held accountable for sexual abuse and her consequent death, the other adult who turned a blind eye to the abuse and allowed it to continue with the victim so totally terrified of the threat of eviction means we cannot be bystanders in the knowledge of child sexual abuse, regardless of who is involved, and in this case, it was her husband and her son that she tried to protect from being held accountable of their criminality, and in doing so, she committed a crime of negligence to her duty of care leading to the death of a child in her care.

What good conduct?

I am so annoyed that people came to testify to the good conduct of Felicia Ogbuja, for what good conduct is there when you know a child is being sexually abused under your roof and you threaten the child rather than challenge your husband and your son? What leniency should be afforded to someone who prevented investigators from ascertaining the truth of the ordeal of Ochanya as first indicated to her by her own daughter before she moved to silence Ochanya?

That the witnesses would testify that Felicia Ogbuja had no record of previous convictions is beyond the pale, for child endangerment should never be mitigated on no previous offences, it is the ultimate duty of responsibility in which she totally failed, resulting in death, under her care. Does she have to be given another opportunity to let a child be abused by her husband and her son?

We need to dispense with the fallacy of Christianity as a mitigating factor of good conduct, much less, the membership of church societies says nothing about integrity, honour, responsibility, or character. Felicia Ogbuja was by all terms just as manifestly evil to Ochanya Ogbanje as her husband and her son, the judge saw through that and determined a custodial sentence was the least she could do.

Some justice for Ochanya

The judge did right in sentencing her to five months imprisonment without the option of a fine, if it is appealed, I would hope any other court would give more consideration to the victim, for her negligence resulted in the death of an innocent child. I do not care for the ornate marble grave that adorns the place of her internment. Ochanya Ogbanje as a child should have reasonably expected the care and the protection of the Ogbujas, but they preyed on her and wasted her with the violation of her person, her personhood, her body, her dignity, her childhood, and her life; for that, there can be no mitigation, it is unforgivable.

If Andrew Ogbuja cannot be retried, he should never be allowed to work with minors as a precautionary safeguarding measure, because he is a sexual predator as witnessed by his daughter.

Whenever Victor Ogbuja is apprehended, I hope he faces the full wrath of the law with no leniency. To Winifred Ogbuja who might just be the only redeeming feature of this family, I hope you find a bigger voice to prevent injustice when witnessed, regardless of who is involved.

There is no doubt that your father, your mother, and your brother set the worst examples anyone could view in a family unit. May good fortune find you, for you did what you could to save Ochanya Ogbanje, even if it was not enough.

Please, be at ease with me

Fear not what you see

Do I ever rebuke,
Even as though a duke,
Or my words abrade,
And inflict like in a raid,
Seek I constant apology,
To be beheld like an effigy,
My lips spew criticism,
With all its cynicism,
Has one given no praise,
Just not to follow a craze,
Too difficult to impress,
Leaving some in distress,
Seen as quite impossible,
That I am unapproachable,
Many are my faults,
As deemed the assault,
A god I seek not to be,
Fear not what you see.

Not acting on what is remembered of them

We see only the good

Through affinity and familiarity, we acquire the kind of subjectivity that blinds us to certain characteristics of personality and integrity. The people we seem to know by whom we have determined they can do no wrong, we hoist them on plinths of adoration, unimpeachable and perfect despite their flaws being evident to others.

The searing truth of the character of our somewhat familiars escapes scrutiny and challenge, we are left totally unpersuaded of the truth and maybe that is necessary for the kind of relationships we need to maintain for the respect or the mystique the person presents to our opinions and adulation of them.

Speak the truth always

Yet, I am of the rare disposition of not speaking ill of the dead whilst not supporting false encomiums and epitaphs that suggest a life lived differently from the knowledge we have of such persons. The needful must be done, to bury the dead. However, to praise them beyond their lived human expression is to at once attend to falsehood and do them an injustice.

The evil men do remains the evil they have done, just as the good they have done is the good for which they should be lauded and appreciated.

Do well with all

In the many stories I have heard of people who have heretofore seemed worthy of praise because their deeds are concealed in the secrecy of acts that others remember them for, I have been astounded.

All I can say is that for all that they might have done wrong, we should find it in our better selves not to act as they have done to us and so become like them, but to rise to a standard for which we might be found good, faultless, and exemplary.

The sands of time will always archive the record and in the way we have been made to feel, by those who have contemned us, if we cannot forget, we can attempt to forgive.

Thought Picnic: The futility in trying to rearrange me

Keep it in perspective

Let me consider the anticipation and excitement greeting some situation that has been considered the whole year but been hamstrung by the heavy pall of the pandemic along with the nationalistic restrictions imposed taking little cognisance of the fact that we need a globally concerted and integrated effort to arrest the hold of the Coronavirus.

Along the way, nerves are getting frazzled even as the default posture is to avoid any agitation as much as possible, from near and afar, as you channel issues that should best be resolved in the propinquity of the participants and principals rather than then seeking external counsel and intervention to no better end than to blindside you into taking sides.

Minimalist to my strength

It is a constant refrain, if not a battle to not get involved if possible and to be as minimally light-touch as possible. To have an effect rather than directly affect calls on insight and wisdom, maybe it is just self-preservation, it is all part of keeping one’s sanity in the midst of much turmoil.

Blog - Thought Picnic: I am best at my own speed

To some, I can be so easily upset when it is not so much the singular events but the compounding of different things, dissatisfaction, angst, anxiety, cravings, temptations, desires, the unfulfilled, the unexpected, little mistakes, annoyances, obstinacy and stubbornness against predicted outcomes, the irksome things are myriad and caught in the web of one’s existence that it might if allowed snuff out any pleasure.

Just as I am, is fine

It takes a different kind of awareness to not be drawn into the little and inconsequential that might result in inadvertent consequences begetting ruefulness and regret. What I choose to ignore sometimes is just for my safety and not out of slight, I cherish my peace of mind, my own company, and quite importantly, my own space. That I have to explain this can be frustrating and infuriating.

Anyway, I do what I have to do and along with hoping that the prayer of serenity is fulfilled in every circumstance, I am faced with, to know what I can change, what I cannot change and the wisdom to know the difference.

Then, for as long as I can remember, too many have wanted to change me into what they think I should be rather than accepting that my uniqueness and individuality has their own expression that could be allowed to flourish for them to see me as the best I could ever be, along with my humanity, my flaws, my weaknesses and my somewhat incomprehensible tics.

Thought Picnic: Learning to ignore the silly things

Where opportunity is not taken

Having license should not equate to being licentious, but that is a maxim too difficult for the practical demands of others, a painful realisation that becomes a situation you live with because of the way things just are.

Spousal levity exhausting allowances without consideration of circumstances that can but are not exploited out of commitment, yet you are damned either way. In a world where trust is a premium and suspicion is cheaper than a bargain, baskets and shopping trolleys are filled with that latter.

Where there are freedoms along with opportunities to act whilst exercising restraint, and this is rarely rewarded by those who are without such freedoms or are never visited by the apparent temptations they not only think others are prone to but surmise others will willingly yield to.

Equanimity and hope

A selfish envious gene would suggest they, given the opportunity might well not endure the need for discipline. In any case, you take it all in the knowledge there is more in it than the immediate. The quest for the perfect is usually taking the good, the bad, and the ugly, with the patience and ability to adapt, to concede, to compliment, and to make the best of what you've got.

There is scope for redemption, pitiable as some reactions might be, time and growth might come to the rescue to give assurance, build confidence, engender maturity, secure stability, and that immutability of standing that nothing can readily displace you. In fact, that is the story of life as it is of relationships. Selah!

Character in Amsterdam

Absent from presence

Amsterdam, and what comes to mind is the Red-Light District and coffee shops, to the initiated, the former refers to legalised sex trade and the latter to easy access marijuana. There is a likelihood that people would visit Amsterdam to observe and experience that part of the city which is hardly the full story of a city of culture, architecture, music, and amazing diversity.

Fundamentally, Amsterdam residents do not spend their lives in sex shops or getting stoned, there is more to life than that and I lived in Amsterdam for almost 13 years. Now, I appreciate that when I first moved to Amsterdam, many of my colleagues did get carried away with the fun at the expense of their purpose for being there, once the novelty wore out, many had exhausted the goodwill of their sojourn.

Some of us knowing what was available chose not to be amenable to the vicissitudes of lasciviousness, regularly invited we did not participate even if we had the freedom and latitude to indulge with reckless abandon.

Damned either way?

We must however separate the place from the person, that a person visits a place should not mean the person defaults to the reputation of the place in its notoriety. People have discipline, character, and purpose, in the midst of great temptation, people do have the resolve to resist and not succumb just because the opportunity and possibility presents.

In the same vein, there is a need to know the difference between the person and the place by reputation. Knowing the person and trusting what the person will do especially unsupervised is to ascribe a modicum of integrity on the person. The person might be given to mischief and yet be quite honourable and full of consideration for others. Then by reputation, Amsterdam can be a crazy place; damned if you do, more damned if you don’t.

And they see the fruit of the Holy Spirit in Donald Trump

It just beggars belief

That I find myself writing this just after the blog I posted yesterday just points to how scary the situation is. A conversation I had yesterday revealed to me the how the Pentecostal and Evangelical strains of the Christian denominations have bought into what is essential the cult of Donald Trump.

Blog - How God laughs at the thought of being a voter

As apparently God’s chosen one and I have heard that from many religious people I hold in quite high regard, he can do no wrong, he protects the church, espouses deeply conservative values packing the US Supreme Court with conservative judges, responds to a radical Zionist agenda especially with the moving of the US Embassy to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv.

A man apart wronged by all

Donald Trump is the wronged man assailed from all ends and denied legitimacy through the term of his presidency, the whole idea of Joe Biden traipsing the corridors of power as the President-elect is not only anathema, Donald Trump not conceding even though none of what he has suggested was electoral fraud has been proven where it matters, in court.

It was conspiracy theory upon conspiracy theory reinforcing a pack of improbable suppositions that they have become an article of faith, a standard to which they have nailed their flags and which they will not be persuaded.

Every example for a saint

To add insult to injury, someone suggested we have been blind not to notice the fruit of the Holy Spirit in Donald Trump. You have got to be kidding me. Yes, he is apparently the embodiment and personification of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, in expression, in character, and in example, a good Christian man. [Wikipedia: The Fruit of the Holy Spirit]

I need to put a call to my spiritual, mental, physical, and paranormal optician for a new eye test, for whoever is seeing this is indeed seeing things. Yet, I must curb my scepticism, because Donald Trump might well be a different man, why he does not show it, escapes me.

Thought Picnic: Can we pass the test of character and virtue at a chance encounter?

An irrevocable damage was done

I feel no sense of justice because very little can be righted that was manifestly wrong, if not evil. There have been life-changing consequences for which all the parties involved have become the story of our times.

Blog - Thought Picnic: Black Lives Should Matter Always

His name was George Floyd, he was 46, he was black, he had family, he did not resist arrest according to the storekeeper that called the police, he was already subdued and handcuffed, yet, Derek Chauvin, the policeman who knelt on his neck until he expired just lost his job, leaving us seething with rage that such a blatant public murder has not already had the perpetrators and conspirators charged.

Mayor Frey of Minneapolis said, “Being Black in America should not be a death sentence.” But we are still handwringing, genuflecting and outraged, a man is dead and there is no Lazarus moment to be expected, George Floyd is gone forever after a chance encounter of hardly 10 minutes with law enforcement.

Having humility when humbled

In New York’s Garden of Eden, the Central Park, Amy Cooper who called the cops on Christian Cooper because he had the audacity to ask her to respect the rules and put her dog on a leash has now lost her job. Her Oscar-winning theatrics of feigning being attacked by an African American what seen for what it was, white privilege deployed to maximum effect to compel a situation where Christian Cooper could have lost his life, if an irrational mob of policemen had attended the scene.

Another chance encounter of hardly 10 minutes again brought to an end many things for Amy Cooper, the loss of her dog companion, the loss of her high profile job at Franklin Templeton, and the loss of many other significant things to do with her person, her status, her standing and probably her relationships.

The unpredictability of chance encounters

It is scary how chance encounters can change a life or bring about the loss of life. The many unscripted, inadvertent, and unintended situations that bring us before strangers of whom we know nothing but in the unfortunate majesty of time, moment and place can in short order our carefully ordered lives.

Nothing prepares us for the outcomes, but we must be prepared in character, in virtue, in humanity, and in consideration to do no harm, bring no hurt, attend to heal, flee from a threat, assess the situation in the mind and heart of the other to treat our momentary neighbour with respect and courtesy just as we would like to be treated.

Blog - Couscous from a Bicycle

Blog - Bottling Anger

If only the police in Minneapolis had given just that little consideration to the humanity of George Floyd, he would still be alive, the four policemen would still have their jobs, the community would be at peace and life will go on as usual. Maybe not the best, but better than the situation right now.

Amy Cooper was in a public place violating the rule to keep her dog on a leash. She was informed by a stranger to follow the rules. She could have apologised, put her dog on a leash and walked away. She did not have to stand her ground or prove a point. The simple recognition in humility of her being in the wrong and the act of contrition of doing the right thing would have saved her from the heap of global opprobrium.

Having the presence of a sense of responsibility

She was however deficient in capacity just like the four policemen of the temperament, wherewithal, and facility to deal with random strangers in chance encounters, knowing you that you have opportunity, power, and privilege that could be abused, whilst have a mind of understanding the responsibility that comes with it is redolent of a strong character ready to exercise the characteristics of emotional intelligence and the consideration of others.

The absence of a sense of responsibility will eventually catch you out and it is rarely in familiar settings, but in these chance encounters where some hand of fate tests your mettle, your humanity, your reasonableness, and your ability to handle unexpected situations without losing your head.

A brutally objective test

The test is usually brutal and the life lessons when that test is failed can to so consequential that Karma is running a far second to when retribution and punishment have breasted the tape on your behalf and in your name. You cannot pass a test that requires the study in preparedness on every topic in the syllabus of character and virtue, because it adaptively examines your weakest points.

If anything, our greatest prayer should be that in whatever random situation we find ourselves in chance encounters with strangers, that we are not found wanting and the experience would enrich the lives of all concerned.

What would be the aftermath the Amy Cooper or George Floyd situation, I cannot tell. For George Floyd, may his soul rest in peace and some justice be found for his brutal and untimely death at the hands of law enforcement. For Amy Cooper, I wrote a ditty, she will live if she wants to and she has the opportunity to change her life for the better. Whether she has the capacity to weather the storm depends on what wholesome relationships she has cultivated before now.

Oh dear, it's Amy Cooper,
She did wrong to Christian Cooper,
Now her embarrassing blooper,
Is dog shit without a scooper,
She thought white was really super,
Called the cops on him like a trooper,
Now lost her job, what a whooper,
Please, don't be like Amy Cooper.

Thought Picnic: Of character building moments

As I walk

Building character is an evolutionary activity that is under constant review, assessment, reflection and adjustment. At least, that is how I think about it.

One episode this morning caused me to reflect on some of my attitudes to certain situations. It had snowed in Reading and as the pavements had not been gritted, one had to be careful as one walked from the hotel to the railway station.

As I walk briskly, albeit, with a walking cane, I am careful and usually do not expect to have to manoeuvre run more able-bodied people on the street. I would tend to walk close to buildings as well as follow the crowd.

Don’t talk back

I turned the corner and almost walked into someone coming up against me, I made my excuses and he walked around me. The next person simply ignored what had happened in front of him and made to stand in my way when I swung my cane directing him to walk to the right of me as there was no space to the left of me.

He followed my guidance, but as he passed me, he said, “Don’t use your stick at me.”, I then looked back at him as said, “You’re being an idiot.” As the words came out of my mouth, I was both agitated and deflated. I regretted it.

The situation made me reflect on why I had to answer back because there was no reason to. Once he had followed my directions, whatever way he felt about it should have been left to him as I had achieved my goal of, standing my ground and keeping my lane.

Tackle and leave

I felt diminished by the unnecessary outburst and promised myself to do better. I have on many occasions set in motion an act with the aim of attaining a goal and left at that. Engagement beyond having instigated my action simply develops into unhealthy interactions one can do without.

It reminded me of one instance where travelling in the 1^st Class compartment of an international train, I could neither relax nor nap because a child was completely implacable and an unruly disturbance. I got up and loudly addressed the parent to see to their ward then sat down.

For 5 minutes the father abused and railed, cursed and vituperated vitriol to the point of exhaustion. I ignored him. By that time, the child was quiet, we all could relax and the journey ended peacefully. From the little intervention, I had achieved what everyone wanted, peace and quiet. I don't dislike kids, but where parents are not embarrassed enough for their kid's behaviour to be seen to do something about it. They do have to be called out.

Achieve the prize

My not engaging the father at all meant the situation did not escalate or degenerate into a breach of the peace. Yes, I took brickbats for it, it was completely worth it.

I can be a better man even if people cannot be reasonable or considerate when they encounter me. I do not have to revel in the uncouth just to impact them. Silence is golden and worth its weight in gold. That is the building of character, only engage when your aim is about to be defeated, else, leave, your aim achieved and your dignity intact.

Thought Picnic: Conveyors of character

Show yourself

Frequent travel brings you in contact to different people from all walks of life that without probing and conversation, it is impossible if you are not clairvoyant to determine where they are from, what they do and why they are travelling.

Yet, I think there is one place where expression and impression are so profoundly displayed. It is not in sometimes drunken boarding of flights, garrulous or intemperate behaviour or even the basic social graces.

At baggage reclaim

The best observation point is the conveyor belt at baggage reclaim, it is as much as the revelation of character as any. The ones who gather at the entry point of baggage when the conveyor belt is switched on. As if their baggage would run away from them.

The parents with kids that are out of control, who clamber over the belts before they start and attempt to drag off luggage well beyond their physical capabilities. This, despite the sign that the conveyor belt is not a playground. If one were to read more into the situation of unruly kids in a public place, you can only wonder what happens at home.

Just as the conveyor belt starts, watch the ones who literally ignore you, if not shove you aside to get at their luggage without a word about their uncouth behaviour. Or the ones who get their luggage and don’t immediately move out of the way for others.

And your character

The conveyor belt is in motion, the luggage moves around and comes back again except if by happenstance it gets picked up by another passenger, though that rarely happens. Wherever you stand, it would eventually get to where you’re standing. If you have to pull off more than one and are not fast enough to get to it, it would come around again, it would not end up in a black hole, never to be seen again.

At least, one would think in the West, there is more safety for person and luggage, not to have to stress oneself at the conveyor belt. I can never understand the rush to retrieve your luggage if you’re being picked up until you've made it out to the arrivals halls, you really have not yet arrived. You might well be detained at immigration.

Is revealed

What the conveyor belt scenario reveals of character can be deep and interesting, from the disorganised to the untrusting, from the impatient to the harried, from the rude to the uncultured, from the nasty to the atrocious. Amongst these, you can still find gems of humanity, patient, helpful, friendly, courteous, disciplined, informative and just nice.

Being a frequent traveller does bring you in contact with a broad stratum of society, some members, you’ll rather not meet anywhere again.

Opinion: Why Donald Trump is no worthy example

What in a leader, I seek

With great difficulty but resignation to the reality, I have come to accept that Donald Trump is the President of the United States of America. However, my respect for the office of a head of state may not necessarily translate to the respect for the occupier of that office.

When I see a leader, I want to be inspired, I want to be encouraged, I want to be challenged to see a greater and better side of humanity exemplified in the words, the acts and the activities of people who lead. Now, Donald Trump is successful and wealthy, he has clout and access to places I probably would never visit, but an achievement is no sign or embodiment of character or virtue.

I look up to people for what I can learn of their humanity, their compassion, their empathy and their ability to relate in sincerity to others, taking due consideration of others even to their own disadvantage because they see a greater purpose than themselves.

Not this man

I am afraid that Donald Trump does not embody virtue, character, goodness, favour or attribute that persuades me of example or conduct that deserves followership even though many do believe in his agenda.

One of the greatest exchanges in the interaction between people is respect, respect for the person, respect for their views, respect for their space, respect for who they are regardless of position or achievement.

I see people who have worked for Donald Trump from Sally Yates, James Comey and Reince Priebus who were unceremoniously sacked and vilified in their sacking. A complete lack of courtesy and reflection in calling Sally Yates unpatriotic because she respected the law rather than the person. James Comey was on official duty thousands of miles away when you saw on television that he had been sacked and Reince Priebus who probably learnt via a Tweet today that he had been replaced. [Apparently, Reince Priebus resigned privately yesterday.]

Recently, Donald Trump has taken to undermining and attacking his Attorney General, Senator Jeff Sessions, who happens to be the very first major politician to back his bid for the White House and has remained staunchly loyal to the President. He publicly stated that he was disappointed with his Attorney General.

The measure of a man

My view of Donald Trump is summarised in this quote from J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter The Goblet of Fire, “If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” [GoodReads]

That is the measure of the man that Donald Trump is, a man unable to inspire and between his ego and himself, he conspires to exhibit the worst in manners, comportment or courtesy. That a man is rich and successful does not automatically confer class and decorum on the person. He, by terms, is caught in the personification of a Shakespearean insult, “Highly fed and lowly taught.” That in itself is almost a glowing compliment of Donald Trump.

Don’t stomach it

Personally, I think any person should know when to walk away from discourtesy, disrespect, humiliation, belittlement or indifference. It takes a great sense of self and self-esteem to walk away in the face of possible loss of status, means and opportunity, but if proximity to power saps you of free agency, independence and initiative, you have to decide whether it is worth keeping up appearances or giving respite to your sanity.

In my over 30-year career, I have worked with and for a broad spectrum of people, some amazing and others absolutely rotten. When I have had to walk, I have walked rather than suffer in silence. It is a tribute to my upbringing that I have been able to have the courage of my convictions even I am not always right, that is for my own conscience to deal with.

Revile bad example

My main concern with Donald Trump is how his behaviour sets no good examples and it can easily inspire the gullible, the malleable, the easily led and the mob to similar conduct. That bothers me more than anything else, when people are not respectful, when they are not considerate, when reasonableness gives way to the unreasonable and when being disagreeable is the default stance of communication, it does not augur well for the impressionable or anyone else, it brings an uncomfortable coarseness into our relationships.

We need to rescue ourselves from this crassness before it becomes second nature. I pray it never becomes common place. Maybe parents would start turning off the television in order not to subject their wards to the characteristics of the likes of Donald Trump. It can only be necessary for a better humanity.

Quite eccentric and borderline crazy

Traits on the strange

There is a trait I can find so useful and at the same time quite debilitating, beyond seeing, I have a tendency to observe to the point of obsession, my senses are somewhat attuned to a low-spectrum autistic level that I could combine pedantry with facetiousness without thinking of how burdensomely boring or silly it might appear to others.

On the other side of this, I might see things in a particular way, either rightly or wrongly and fail to persuaded of another perspective, which sometimes means I will rather keep my counsel than give an opinion. The worst part of this trait is when I am quick to react to things I should have been slow at deciding on and slow to react to things I should have been quicker to react to.

I embrace this all as part of my humanity, the successes and the regrets whilst trying as much as I can to improve myself.

Noticing the errors in notices

On my visit to Yorkshire two weekends ago, we stopped over in Leeds before spending the night in York, I saw things I could not ignore. I have a penchant for reading notices, plaques, signs, instructions and much else.

Not that I read to find fault, but where there is fault and you will find a lot of that on my blogs because I rarely proofread my drafts before posting and only get to correct errors in grammar and construction much later, but where I find fault, as I was saying, I cannot seem to ignore them.

In the Leeds Corn Exchange, I found the toilets in the basement just as my bladder was indicating it needed emptying. Having done the business and washing my hands, I was drying my hands when I looked up and saw the notice that seemed to start off well. [Wikipedia]

The Oxford comma and after that it all went downhill from there, normally hyphenated words missing the hyphen, American spelling, phonetical spelling, personalisation and number agreement errors. Three sentences on a notice and these many problems?

Assemble on Assembly Street

The Leeds Corn Exchange is a magnificent Victoria building, we were quite taken by the ornate design of the ceiling and obviously, for modern times there are health and safety regulations to adhere to. [LCE Website]

On the landing of the upper floor, having been through some of the shops, not too far from the vintage camera store, there was a Fire Action notice which anyone should take seriously in the event of a fire. Somehow, this notice looked funny and almost like a joke because the assembly point if we were to evacuate the building was Assembly Street.

On first reading, one would really have thought they got it wrong, however, there really is an Assembly Street in Leeds and don’t mess about if you are caught in an emergency just because the designated assembly point looks unusually funny or strange. I also hate to report that stranger things and crimes have happened on that street too. A woman was raped there in June. [Yorkshire Evening Post]

Teasing shower nipples

Now, onto one of the more bizarre traits I have. The bathroom of our not-so-well-appointed room at the Royal York Hotel had what you might call a rainfall showerhead.

A stationary ceiling fixture that apparently rains on you with controls on the wall for flow rate and temperature. However, this also had rubber teats extending from the metal surface that was supposed to distribute the rain shower evenly.

Yet, as with many shower heads with rubber teats, I cannot help but look at the flow and in that identify which teats are not working or distributing water out of alignment with the general flow because of blockages, usually limescale.

Then I pinch those shower head teats which seems to free them of blockages until all the teats were working. I somehow cannot stand the sight of the water flowing out of the teat out of alignment without doing something to fix it.

You can call that finicky or pernickety, but I end up with a good rain shower and it also shows that no matter who well things seem to be cleaned up, some things are just not up the standard expected. In this case, the showerhead, and to someone with my kind of fixation, well …