The gospel of the widow's mite

There she was ready for ridicule

Taking a picture this afternoon of a woman conservatively dressed almost looking destitute made me wonder about the tendency to ridicule people.

Our deep-seated prejudices surface as expressions of curiosity revealing a visage of disdain that would almost draw approval from any passer-by.

She had a message which through programming, teaching and indoctrination – say faith – one may not ridicule – Jesus Saves – albeit in German; a message that has been about for over 2 millennia but which many fail to make relevant to themselves, their lives, their societies or their communities.

Looking at her, I did wonder how her presentation of the message would attract anyone on a day that attracted all the finery and celebration of gaiety and the debauched.

Not a time for asceticism

People were out in literally thread-bare clothes soaking in the sun and having a joyous time, definitely not a time to consider asceticism.

Then I remembered those Christian tracts that encouraged you into the embracing arms of Jesus Christ, well, I meant to say, terrified you horribly by making you the leading player of a sketch that had you burning in hell.

As you read the tract and break out in cold sweat with just enough strength to pray save me, you realise that you are dusting off the ashes from your singed eyebrows in an ashes to ashes act which had already been said of you in the presence of the devil from whom you have just run for dear life.

Rewards so different

In any case, the woman in her small way did not have the trappings of opulence nor the ostentation of jewellery that exemplifies modern day apostles in doing her part for the gospel.

No exhibitions of wealth untold that they would not be eligible for the streets of gold if many had their say in the final reckoning.

However, like Jesus said of the widow [Source - Lesson of the widow's mite - Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia] who had the least but gave it all as opposed to those who had a lot and only gave of what they have, the gospel’s methods of reward are far more advanced than the performance metrics any HR department can aspire to for objectivity.

The KPIs [Source - Key performance indicator - Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia] might just make her worthy of more because of her sincerity, dedication and purposefulness than stadium filling evangelists who have to do logistics before the gospel.

And so all I can say to the lady is keep up the work, it might well be good too.

Lingering smells of the caged life

Noah's Arc Cologne

Considering how this blog began to form in my mind earlier today, it is a pleasant surprise that I find myself in olfactory proximity to much zoological defecation.

I boarded the Zoo Express shuttle which had seats that would make traditional church pews feel like comfortable feather-bedded loungers as we tried to set the record for the longest possible time to complete a journey to the zoo in tortoise-drawn carriages. No wonder, I saw no tortoises at the zoo, they had all conked out, the poor things.

The main notice within the zoo declared the place Cologne's Noah's Arc, well, I did not see any animals going in two-by-two and it was well and truly beached. Much as one can be entertained with wildlife from Australia, Madagascar and nether lands, the jury is out on the complete work of conservation since the flood wiping out animals is the human race and their effect on earth, than anything else.

Truly inspired names

In two hours, I had just about seen that almost extinct and endangered orange-nosed, red-breasted, yellow-beaked, black-handed, blue-bottomed, pink-toed, green-eyed, fluffy-haired, three-fingered picinini and everything else.

Somehow, the politically-incorrect names we once used to describe fellow human-beings are now lavished liberally on animals in the zoo.

I am sure when Adam in Genesis had the task of naming animals he must have done a better job.

Now, I have nothing against zoos but one might have to don a gas mask next time one visits a zoo.

That was a day out in Cologne. In the end, when I saw a big stop sign barring people from going down a path, one surmised, great fiery dragons be there - it is a zoo after all.

Pictures of the visit are in the Cologne Zoo Set on Flickr, I did not tour the whole zoo, so no elephants, seals or penguins.

Travel waffle with sophisticated thievery

Got to get out of this place

Call it a restless spirit or some form of dementia. I cannot seem to spend more than four weekends in a stretch before I need to get out of the country.

Living in the Netherlands which by fortune of land recovery from the sea makes it 30% larger than it would have been means in 2 hours I could be in Antwerp (Belgium) or Düsseldorf (Germany), in 3 it is Brussels or Cologne and in 4 it is Hanover, Hamburg or Frankfurt in Germany or Paris in France and in 6 comfortable hours of travelling by train – I could be the Blue Angel in Berlin.

I would say, I love travelling by train and it is only comfortable if you are travelling in the right section of the train where the seats recline, you are served at your seat and a majority recognise the need for civility.

At least, if you were to complain about some attitude, you would not have the great unwashed screaming back at you for pointing out they are wrong.

Town confusion pay attention

One interesting thing about train travel in Europe is the announcements as you arrive at a station.

For example, once when we were approaching Antwerp (English), Anvers (French) or Antwerppen (Flemish/Dutch), the announcer indicated passengers to Ghent should change trains.

What I found striking about the announcement was the fact that if you missed your language and there are 4 languages for travellers through Belgium; you would be completely lost, because each language might just provide another name for the same place.

In the case of Ghent – which sounds like Gent in English with a G rather than a J sound; Gun with a silent N in French and Hent with a hard G sound like the CH from Loch in Dutch/Flemish – the foreigner has no chance of ending up at the proposed destination.

Also, you have Liege (French), Luik (Dutch/Flemish), Lüttich (German) and you begin to realise that place names are hard enough if you are not in England where Leicester Square is the Shibboleth – the Americans are always caught just as Greenwich (pronounced – Grennitch) or Southwark (Suddock) shows up the natives from the aliens.

Less perfume more culture

This time, it was Cologne (English), Köln (German) or Keulen (Dutch) and no, they do not sound the same either. Just as River Niger and the Republic of Niger do not sound the same as the first is English and the second is French.

So, I decided I would spend the weekend in Cologne and found that the joy of Internet bookings does not extend to train services in the Netherlands, Belgium or France if you are travelling within 5 days.

However, journeys over 101 kilometres within Germany offer the prospect of booking online and you get a PDF which you can print out as your tickets up to within 10 minutes of travel.

Makes you wonder why one cannot book within 5 days of travel and one can guess that the unions have thwarted that automation to keep postal workers occupied.

Internet booking should be a no-brainer; I have been booking trips in the Internet since 1995 when British Midland first started the service with http://www.IFlyBritishMidland.com.

The steal of the century

So, I got to the station and bought a ticket off the automatic ticket machines thinking I only had 20 minutes before the train. Alas, I was thinking 15:07 for the train which in fact ran at 14:07 and the next was at 17:07, so 2 hours or so to kill.

I make a beeline to the Left Luggage department which is a self-service facility of lockers which accept coins for activation.

Since many would not have the coinage to add to EUR 3.70 for the small lockers a note-to-coin exchanger does the job of converting 5, 10 and 20 Euro notes to just Euro or Eurocent coins which are 1 or 2 Euros and 50 Eurocents.

This is the steal of the century and it is so innocuous it is atrociously corrupt. You need at least a 2-Euro coin, a 1-Euro coin, a 50-Eurocent coin and then a 20-Eurocent coin to make up EUR 3.70 for the locker.

Utter, utter, thievery

The exchanger does not offer 20 Eurocents, the locker does not give change and the staff do not give change.

So, if you desperately need a locker and cannot get change for 50 Eurocents, you forfeit 30 Eurocents which goes to somebody’s pocket because the receipt you get says EUR 3.70 even though the system has swallowed 4 Euros.

If the collector counts the number of tickets issued and say up to 50% of locker users never get the exact change, it means 5% of the take from that day gets pocketed.

I would not be surprised with this scheme and scandalous abuse does not go high up in the service provider’s echelon.

It would have been easier to make it EUR 3.50 or EUR 4.00, but no free money would go to the station mafia.

I do remember complaining about this years ago when the locker price was in Guilders and the staff just shrugged – it is a nice little earner and the Dutch are good at making money. I just do not want to be fleeced in this way.

Memories I'ld rather forget

Thought back without flashbacks

I have been fortunate not to be plagued by flashbacks to harrowing and terrifying events. I am exceedingly thankful for that.

Was it when a parade of armed robbers who had already gained entry to our house in Nigeria some 18 years ago before asking us to open the door as a gesture of cooperation or when three happy Moroccans kicked me as a rag doll just over a year ago?

In both cases my life was at serious risk, though the first was in company of family and in the latter, I was alone.

The armed robbers carted away every valuable they could find, and when the sergeant asked the colonel to shoot us, he retorted that we have been very cooperative and so there was no need to do us harm.

I think it was 3 hours after that event that my legs literally gave under me, the sudden realisation that it could have been a lot worse.

However, when I got beaten up by those fellow African brothers in a well-lit street in Amsterdam, the moment I got up, I just said to myself – many do not get up from events like this, I have gotten up and I am fine, I would walk away from this and put it all down to experience.

The next day, I went back to the scene of the incident that I could not get the police interested in because I wanted to report it event at the Police Station outside the hospital where the only emergency first aid service in Central Amsterdam is (more to the East really) rather than the one closest to the scene of the crime.

Go figure! I needed treatment first, but do not do logic with the police, sometimes law enforcement is not about the common sense approach to issues but donkeys driven as monkeys who see, speak and hear all evil and give no good.

Drink fuelled violence

However, this represents the bane of our Western societies where people after a few drinks and fuelled on drugs can attack, injure if not kill fellow human-beings, unprovoked and unintended.

So, imagine what went through my mind when, suddenly in Cologne four Turkish guys pulled down another man and were kicking and punching him without restraint. Then a broken bottle and another; no flash-backs just plain horror as I watched tongue-tied.

Society ad community

The difference between Cologne and Amsterdam

+        Over 20 people saw the incident, in Cologne everyone within sight shouted and railed to upset the attackers, in Amsterdam, they were like voyeurs; the only noise I could hear was the one I was making from the blows I was receiving

+        At least 10 people went out of their way to separate the fighters and calm things down in Cologne, the ones in Amsterdam must have been thinking of the man who intervened a few months before and ended up dead

+        The police were there within 5 minutes of the event in Cologne all parties involved were arraigned. In Amsterdam, the police were uninterested, the boys have probably ganged up on another person just like they did me, for kicks

What really amazes me is just how anyone can really enjoy kicking another man ferociously and be ready to do such serious harm with a broken bottle and not even recoil at the thought. I probably live in another world – I prefer it there.

The contrasts between Cologne and Amsterdam might just reveal the changes in society and community, where in Amsterdam people might their own business so much so that things can happen unchallenged around them that they are inured to the evils and wrongs of others.

Some might call it tolerance, but I think it is utterly intolerable.