This Madeleine McCann thing

Disarray and confusion

I am sickened to the bone as the pendulum of events in Portimao, Portugal swings violently like that of a clock amidst the stormiest seas, if I was on a boat, I would be retching with vomit, my intestines gelatinised and ready to be expectorated.

No fervent prayer has been so silently uttered as the one that desires that the turn of events be a complete farce rather than reality.

Now, I really do not know what to think whilst I want to keep faith that Madeleine McCann was abducted on the 3^rd of May whilst her parents were out eating though checking on the kids every 30 or so minutes.

Evidently, everyone who has been touched by the little girl’s disappearance would want this case resolved, we need some sort of closure and conclusion as to what really happened and what would eventually happen.

Fearful parental conspiracy

I am still beside myself in confusion as to how the parents as accused by the Portuguese police could have accidentally killed their daughter, hid her body, gone on this extraneous cover-up charade then 25 days later taken the body in a hired car to dispose of somewhere in Portugal.

The accidental death must have been too grotesque to countenance if they have had to go through such an elaborate worldwide campaign including an audience with the Pope surreptitiously for absolution.

If there be any truth, even one iota, my faith in humanity and humankind would be seriously compromised and we would have moved up another notch in the cynicism that would make us even more inured to occurrences as this.

There are competing interests in this matter, the parents either sincerely want to find Madeleine if she indeed was abducted or they are a conniving, criminal, devious couple trying to conceal a gross misdeed, we need a Poirot, Colombo and Miss Marple to fish out the clues ever so desperately.

A police policed

The police are under the most intense scrutiny from a global audience who want to know what has been done to resolve this case conclusively. Each country like Portugal have their ways of crime resolution which works well within the confines of the country, but when exposed to external review some methods and processes would have to be adapted accordingly, the Portuguese lawmakers should be thinking up a few reforms.

One cannot say that the Portuguese police have acquitted themselves with any distinction on this case, the handling of the crime scene, the chain of custody of evidence, the management of information and the silence that feeds more speculation sometimes makes it appear they have lost the plot from the onset.

Their reputation is at stake if they have any left and every redeeming measure is at play to close this case including the plea-bargain they offered to Kate McCann to confess to killing her daughter accidentally and receive 2 years incarceration.

This would evidently put the case away though the matter of where the body was disposed of would be the next issue. It would be the height of sacrilegious irresponsibility for the parents to have killed their child and then bury the body in some non-descript foreign place, I cannot join the dots on this matter yet.

The parents however might vicariously offer themselves to any sanction for leaving their children unsupervised, but if Madeleine was abducted, they cannot yield to this convenient sacrifice.

Convenient in that the police have to do nothing more but the parents would have snuffed out any hope of seeing Madeleine again, if she is still alive.

Bad news resorts

Then the resorts in Portugal that offer family-friendly holidays have a stigma that has tourists thinking twice about taking their families there is an abductor is on the prowl. This event is seriously bad news and bad business such that everything would be done to make it go away.

No holiday resort, country or people would like to be tarred with the sobriquet of Kid-napper country and so the boos and jeers when they arrived at the police station because the wrong kind of spotlight on their region is definitely going to affected livelihoods adversely, resorts want publicity that highlights safety, security and comfort, this event does the complete opposite.

Wherefore?

Was Madeleine abducted and by whom?

Was Madeleine killed by her parents?

Is Madeleine still alive if she was abducted?

Do the police have any clues at all?

Questions are many and answers are few.

Announcing the non-event Rugby World Cup

Popular support for games

The Cricket World Cup 2007 in the Caribbean would be fondly remembered for the death of Bob Wolmer, the coach of Pakistan as the country was on the verge of being tossed out of the competition in the group stages.

Currently the US Open is hitting the news waves as the dominance of Roger Federer is so complete that his dropping a game is major sport copy, the excitement in tennis is really now amongst the women.

The World Cup and Olympic games has everyone in a complete frenzy, we enjoyed Germany 2006 and Athens 2004, even I went to France 1998 to watch Nigeria v. Bulgaria who we thrashed 1 – 0, well, thrashing is a strong world.

Apparently, the Rugby World Cup starts in France today and it is about to become a non-event such that in desperation to garner headlines the Rugby ruling body decided to limit the number of pictures that could be posted on the websites of news and photo agencies.

The agencies then decided to boycott pre-competition events of the day before the games, now we all know that the Rugby World Cup is on and hopefully, this impasse would be resolved. We can expect England to relinquish the trophy early for all sorts of reasons, we do not have a record of successfully defending titles.

Meanwhile, I need to check out my back catalogue of Miss Marple, Poirot and Murder, She Wrote – there is more excitement in detective drama than scrums and mud.

The unacceptable cult of death

Celebrating pre-teen death is abominable

I cannot abide it anymore, what were children doing in a church afternoon yesterday when they should have been in school going about building a life on sound education?

It is becoming the norm and I fervently pray it is not; we have begun to celebrate lives of children, children cut down on the crest of puberty by seemingly other children who have moved on from water pistols and video games to real guns.

It is both an anomaly and abomination that we have a society where the killing of children has not created the utmost outrage that every right thinking person should find it untenable that this unspeakable evil finds place amongst us.

I am most affected by this in that if I did follow the parallel universe of parenthood, many of these kids would have my kids as older siblings; you do not have to be a parent to empathise because the death of those younger than ourselves exposes a vulnerability that we all possess, the possibility of death by unintended means.

A developing cult of death

It is a further damnation of our society that such crimes take place and no one can come forward with information to rid our societies of the cancer that is becoming violently malignant.

Instead, we find succour in tributes paid to the dead, the celebration of lives cut short unnaturally, flowers laid at pathways, fields, doors and gateways, candles lit to burn up in hours and soppy lullabies that give us the pretence and ill-comfort that all would be well.

It is becoming an accepted rite of demise, the cult of death awash with emotions difficult to articulate, we now spontaneously clap for the dead as we desperately try to eke out minuscule joy from such palpable sadness.

Is there value in life?

I cannot find stronger words to castigate the societal comfort that allows parents to bury their children who have come upon death by what is essentially a social malaise that politicians are completely hapless in addressing, the police are lacking intuition in getting a resolution and the streets are paralysed with irrational fear when they should be performing their honourable and civic duties of reporting what they have witnessed.

How is it that the value of life is so deprecated to that of shoot-em-up games only that this time the person shot does not get up and walk away?

How is it that the murder of a fellow human-being does not excite the most self-hating revulsion and guilt in the perpetrators?

Speak up or be damned

In the end, I have a word for those who having witnessed these heinous allow the perpetrators to walk free to commit even more heinous crimes.

The likelihood is these perpetrators were bullies in school halls and playgrounds, but no one told on them because they did not want to “snitch” and become outcasts amongst their peers. There is no honour amongst thieves, there is no dignity in condoning injustices, there is no pride in the silence that allows impunity to thrive and there is no respect for life if unwarranted cruelty is unreported.

These selfsame perpetrators continually get away with bullying, first with their brutishness and as they mature they take on other tools to menace others, baseball bats, knives and contemporaneously guns, they have probably put others in hospital and boasted about their menace to other despicable low-lives.

Whilst the law may not be able to prove the culpability or the reluctant conspiracy of the witnesses who have willingly given their tongues to the gross evil of silence, there must be a conscience in all of us at work that should and must link us with further crimes committed by these evil people – children they might be – because when the seedlings of malevolence were budding as bullying and menace we did not do our parts by intimating the authorities then.

Speak NOW!

Even now, all is not lost in getting information out to a counsellor, the police, a community leader, your parents, trusted friends or even the police, no matter how long ago, it is our duty to speak up and rid our streets of villains that blacken our paths with the blood of the innocent, most especially, if you have been a victim of bodily harm from any of these rotten people.

I think we should have enough of flowers being placed at memorials when they should be presented as bouquets of affection to loved ones, I do not want to switch my television on to witness another group of pre-teens burying their friend who was gunned down on the street and yet, the killer is still at large. It beggars belief that what is becoming of our society.

Speaking as the Book

One final supplication would be that the killers of Rhys Jones would not find peace, succour or refuge, but like Cain, the first recorded murderer, they shall be fugitives in life and vagabonds all their days; their lives would be marked with sadness deeper than that which they have caused till the blood of the innocent child is fully avenged.

Believe it or not, the blood of the innocent still cries out from the ground against those who have unjustly shed blood and those who have allowed this to happen also have blood on their hands.

The Carteristas of Gran Canaria

Paying over the odds

It could be quite rough if the first new Spanish word you learn on the night of your arrival is “Carterista” as my friend in a vulnerable situation was lightened of a wallet but thankfully with just change and the hotel card.

However, having visited a number of shops in Playa del Ingles and Las Palmas one begins to wonder if they not all like those machines in amusement arcades that give you the impression you are in for a big win only for you to realise later on that all the odds are loaded against you to part with your money and end up with absolute crap.

I had already paid over the odds for some goods I needed and when the shopkeeper could not convince me to buy stuff I did not need he passed me on to a fellow shopkeeper who ran a leather goods shop.

My rotten brother

Now, this is summer, temperatures running at 35 Celsius or higher and I am supposed to be shopping for leather jacket – I think not and I did say, I did not need one.

By the time I had tried on the first jacket which did not fit but the seller felt was right, we had established he was Algerian and I Nigerian, so from then on, it was the familiar My Brother this, My Brother that, as we tried one ill-fitting jacket after another, some with buttons almost falling off – Why am I in this shop?

So the schpeel (Spiel as corrected by a commenter - Thanks!) went on about it being the best Mallorcan leather, the highest quality and so on, really, do I have “mugu” written all over my face?

At one time, I said, I would rather I had my friend around to see if it all really fits me, to which he retorts, they are doing 50% discounts today – that really had my antenna up, I am up against a wily confidence trickster and I better beware.

So, we finally found one that was barely comfortable, but I wanted to leave and my way was barred as I tried to escape his clutches for a jacket that now was to cost 1,900 Euros, then 50% slashed off to cost 950 Euros, none of which I was going to buy, then he suggested 300 Euros and I walked away as he cursed me in German to my hearing.

I was only a brother for as long as I was ready to be conned out of money, the moment his machinations lost their potency, I was a pariah – that really pissed me off, but it was evident that all they did was rip tourists off for as much as they can get away with.

Watch what they do

So, in Las Palmas today we had to get an extra rechargeable battery for our camera and before he had the battery out he was already saying the battery was better than mine, well the packet does say 4,800 mAh, but the battery was 750 mAH and mine was 1,200 mAh, for crying out loud, I did Electrical/Electronic Engineering but I do not have to walk away with a safety helmet.

He then got out a battery that was the 4,800 mAh and I got both that and a charger that was well beyond my requirements whilst suitable for my battery and paid.

Meanwhile, my friend was thinking of getting a watch and we decided on one which was taken to the counter for the manual to be united with the watch before packaging, I also picked up a watch and soon afterwards the manual for my watch was found and a big show was made of finding my manual, however, they could not locate my friend´s and suddenly one manual was about to be packaged for the watch, but I determined to check and it was the wrong manual.

I was incensed, how could I have just done business with you and then you try to use the confidence trick of showing you got my manual to pretend you got the right one for the other watch?

They really did not have that manual that my friend had to get another watch for which they did have a manual.

I would not go into any Gran Canarias shop for anything that is not essential or properly labelled more so, one wonders which is worse – the stealthy carteras (pick pockets) or the ones who run businesses as dishonest, unprincipled and shameless shopkeepers on the make.

Tourist beware!

Who are the Yoruba?

Dinner with new friends

I have questions, many questions and wonder where this would lead to. On the day of our arrival, there was a couple on the table beside ours who appeared very friendly that we had a few pleasant exchanges.

Then, the second night at dinner we were invited to a themed evening featuring Brazilian cuisine and we all obliged at which point I asked if we could share a table and they found that quite agreeable.

We met up just at the appointed time after I had a slight bathroom mishap which had just under 1 centimetre squared of skin scraped off my scalp in the process of balding my head.

Blood but no guts, a bit of alcohol and I was close to cresting a banshee octave, well, not really, but it was quite a burning sensation and then it clotted and I was fine.

Dancing with anthropology

So, both professors, one in anthropology and the other with a speciality in dance and interpretation covering classical, contemporary and Spanish dance. However, the most important part of this was the Cuban heritage which had obvious affiliation to the great dance diva Alicia Alonso.

The incredible linkage between dance and anthropology comes down to a more intriguing history of the Cubans and the dominance of Yoruba types and traditions which apparently are more advanced in Cuba than in Salvador de Bahia in Brazil. However, a good deal of Yoruba culture is expressed in dance and music, but there is a whole area of academic study of crucial importance we native Yorubas need to explore.

These two men were quite versed in Yoruba history and mythology and more so exposed certain aspects of my ignorance of the culture of my forebears because of the way re-education and Western religious diktat have subsumed what essentially is our identity.

The dominance of the Yoruba

It would appear whilst lots of slaves were taken from the Slave Coast which was once the name of Southern Nigeria, that was not the only place where slaves were acquired, but when they arrived in the lands of bondage, the Yoruba culture and norms became the dominant expression for most slaves where in Cuba it was the least adulterated as opposed to the amalgam in Salvador de Bahia because of the suppression of cultures and traditions of the slaves in Brazil and the American South.

The Yoruba dialect spoken in Cuba is known as Lukumi which derives of Oluku mi, which finds equivalent meaning from the Ijebu dialect of Yoruba meaning “My friend” – See Church of the Lukumi.

The Yoruba identity

Now, there is no way we can talk of the Greek civilisation without strong allusions to their mythology, similarly, it would appear the whole essence of the Yoruba beyond just the language is expressed in our mythologies which feature more strongly in the Yoruba Diaspora which descends from the slaves than in the indigenous tribes back home, this is commonly known as Santeria (Cuba), Oyotunji (USA) or Candomblé (Brazil).

The Yoruba are essentially a very religious if not very spiritual people but the unrelenting encroachment of a brand of Christianity and modernism that subsumes our core identity into a non-descript amalgam of Judeo-Western interpretations which leaves us with just the language but no representative tradition and compellingly vibrant history is worrisome.

All probably is not lost because simplistically we do use Olorun (Ruler of heaven) or Olodumare in synonymy with the Supreme God, but we need to relate more of our understanding of our culture to our adopted religions, we cannot become a listless people or all that defines us would be lost.

Giving up ours for others?

Now, I am not saying Christianity is to blame for this, but if our culture by certain Christian or other religious teachings is supposedly inherently evil because the underpinning mythologies relate to gods called orishas what have we left of our customs after we leave the church, the mosque or some religious place of worship?

I am no expert in these matters, but I worry about these generalisations - the American brand of Christianity that promotes materialism, the African brand that expands on this materialism with an enemy round every corner and the European brand which is too liberal for the comfort of many.

It is time to go back to the things that make us a people who have a history that predates when slave traders came to take our ancestors away to lands so far away but after hundreds of years, that self-same ideal of what is Yoruba has survived the onslaught of slavery, racism, modernisation and religion.

I think the core of what is Yoruba is worth fighting for regardless of any other foreign religious beliefs we might have acquired.

Akin is away

Working like a dog

Gosh! I have been working like a dog, all hours of the day and especially the witching hours to get things done before I go off on holiday.

A holiday that has been postponed for 6 weeks because my dear partner would not imitate me in one specific respect, one does not run for the train, else in this case, a trip and crack – leg in plaster for 4 weeks – thankfully, at a time the planning was still tentative.

I threatened to book a trekking holiday to see the spectacle of a hobbling tourist but relented.

At the same time, I had postponed the commencement of my thesis to allow for my holiday only to now find myself looking for an internet café in Playa del Ingles to do submissions, my recommencement having started on Tuesday.

So, my last working day came and I was still in the office at 8:30PM, took a cab home only to find that my partner had packed the whole Summer collection, like I was about to chaperone Donatella Versace in a remake of the Airport (TV series) 63 suitcases bar one at Heathrow Airport – lighten that load – we dumped 6Kg of stuff to stay in limit.

Comfort ye by payments

OK! We were traveling Comfort Class, whatever that means – extra 5Kg baggage, 8cm leg room, then, I found I was traveling a souped-up EasyJet service, we were paying for cabin service on a flight that would last 4:30 hours and the joys of noisy babies to help one relax and sleep off the whole flight. Arkefly they call themselves – never again after this holiday – but I suppose package holidays with charter flights do have their surprises.

Then, we were picked up at the airport and we had a tour of all 4/5-star hotels and apartments in Playa del Ingles before we arrived at our hotel last and just ready for dinner.

I decided on half-board accommodation with all the trimmings, the thought of looking for restaurant for 17 nights did not appeal to me and the Riu Palace Hotels brand does dish out luxurious cuisine in themed restaurants apart from the fact that company has the stomach of a child, it whines for food to my utter distraction.

We took our seats at the restaurant and checked-in afterwards, I was a bit disappointed because I thought I had an apartment-type room, but it was OK, not very large but well decorated and a balcony to boot.

Beside the seaside

I did not request a sea-side view because I felt I would get a Fawlty Towers room with the quip, the sea is just over the dunes, so I thought our orientation was towards the town though I could not see a prominent feature at that time of the night.

Later on, I found that the hotel was patently for holiday-makers, poor Internet service, no newspapers delivered to the door, I really should learn to take a holiday properly, imagine, I travelled with my laptop, well, because, I do need to make some critical submissions for my thesis.

Anyway, I woke up in the morning and looked out on the balcony, I saw the sea, yes, I saw the sea and my holiday had just begun.

Strangely, no one reads newspapers at the breakfast table, I need to, “chill-out” as they say in street parlance, I should stop counting the days left and do what I came to do – I have worked really hard, I should play doubly hard.

Ole!

Police in toilet misconduct

Foot tap importuning

Once again a lewd conduct situation is about to hound a Republican Senator out of office. The press is running amok with Puritanical sanctimony as analysis and commentary drags out for our recollection every other lewd conduct scandal that has sent many an unassuming politician to a retirement in ignominy.

The new career of self-rehabilitation may never end till the day they draw their last breath and that is very sad.

In America, these situations are even beneath contempt when the police are engaged in what they like to call a sting when really they are agents provocateurs, people who incite to create a criminal situation they have not been able to objectively investigate and resolve.

Apparently, the senator entered a cubicle and tapped his foot in what suppose was the sign to engage in conduct unbecoming, no doubt, the policeman being a consenting party would have responded to the point that a level of risky trust was developed before the police identified himself. I would not go into the analysis of who tapped first, the police were there to catch foot-tappers by incitement or reciprocation.

Solving moral crimes

People in moments of weakness or lewd adventure who are importuned or tempted to yield to the flesh by the law pretending to be a consensual party to some prospective sexual liaison does make one wonder what policing has become.

It is the same tactic that was used to nab George Michael who whilst cruising in a cottage was importuned by a pretty policeman, or as they would have us read, an undercover agent.

Indeed, these activities can be a nuisance in public areas, they are also as it were consensual and victimless, the use of crimes to qualify this activity is to moralise with hypocritically.

I am not sure engaging the police to be pimps or baits in lewd conduct is the best use of tax payers money much as the moralising of the situation gives us the false comfort of ridding our public places of “crimes”, not of the ones that fill us with fear and indignation but the ones that make us feel extremely “holier than thou”.