Through the prism of the #Coronavirus leaders are devaluing human life

All days matter

Sometimes, you have to mine the rich seam of biblical stories to illustrate issues in our contemporary times. There is no better time to share an event in the ministry of Jesus Christ where he healed a woman who had been afflicted for 18 years on the Sabbath.

Having demonstrated compassion and mercy in the healing of the woman, the leader of the synagogue was livid with rage and indignation, completely oblivious of the amazing miracle, he remonstrated saying, “There are six days on which men ought to work; therefore come and be healed on them, and not on the Sabbath day.” Luke 13:14 (NKJV)

Obviously, the leader of the synagogue was keeping the law, the 4^th commandment of the 10 delivered to Moses in the wilderness on tablets of stone.

8 “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. 9 Six days you shall labour and do all your work, 10 but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord your God. In it you shall do no work: you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your male servant, nor your female servant, nor your cattle, nor your stranger who is within your gates. 11 For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it. Exodus 20:8-11 (NKJV)

No Sabbath for the pain

The leader of the synagogue did have a valid point, but there was another call to his humanity. I do remember clearly when I had cancer and the pain that was sometimes too otherworldly for description, the pain did not take a break on any day and not on our modern Sabbath of Sunday.

In fact, on one Sunday, the Fentanyl pain patch I wore on the skin of my belly had peeled off that I was in such pain until the effects of the newly applied patch kicked in, I laughed myself to delirium, my friend thinking I was having a psychotic event. I was relying on the endorphins released by laughter to assuage the pain.

Jesus responded, “Hypocrite! Does not each one of you on the Sabbath loose his ox or donkey from the stall, and lead it away to water it? 16 So ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has bound—think of it—for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath?” Luke 13:15-16 (NKJV)

By this, first Jesus was offering the primacy of works of necessity over everyday work. Leading a beast of burden to the water on the Sabbath was work but of necessity. Then, by comparison, he averred that healing on the Sabbath was a work of necessity as much is it was one of compassion for the woman that could not wait another day, even if she had been afflicted for 18 years.

Our humanity is paramount

This brings me to the handling of the Coronavirus pandemic in some countries, in the UK where the outrageous policy of pursuing herd immunity with regards to a virus for which there was no vaccine. The implication being the UK government was afraid for the cost and consequences to the economy if the country were locked down. They were ready to sacrifice the vulnerable, human beings to the capitalist machine.

It was in my view the most apathetic and dispassionate act of inhumanity a government was ready to visit upon its people just not to upset big business. Thankfully, reason prevailed, but it would be impossible to forgive the government for ever suggesting it and there can be no redemption for the thought process that allowed it. They had sided with the leader of the synagogue against the core element of our humanity to preserve and protect life.

Human beings over the economy

Over in America, Donald Trump is grappling with a situation over which he has little control. Just a month ago, he could boast of a record rising stock market and the best employment figures in US history. Today, the stock market is below the numbers when he took office on the 20^th of January 2017 and unemployment figures are rising. The interventions from the Federal Reserve and Treasury have not stanched the stock market decline, the sentiment is broadly negative.

It appears Donald Trump is ready to go against the advice of the medical experts and truncate the measures put in place to limit the spread of the Coronavirus, in order to give a fillip to the economy. The risk is the Coronavirus will cut a larger swathe through the country and they would be in a worse place than they are now. Much as the economy is important, human beings run these economies and the machinery it depends on, human beings must always come first. [BBC]

America loving people more than money

As if this was not bad enough, the Lieutenant Governor of Texas, Dan Patrick, 69, who will be 70 in April suggested that the older generation of the 70s were ready to sacrifice themselves and die for the sake of America going back to work, because the Coronavirus was destroying America, and what he meant was destroying America’s economy.

“You know, Tucker, no one reached out to me and said, ‘As a senior citizen, are you willing to take a chance on your survival in exchange for keeping the America that all America loves for your children and grandchildren?’ And if that’s the exchange, I’m all in.” said Dan Patrick [Guardian]

It is interesting that “keeping the America that all America loves” was not people, else it would have included the parents and grandparents of the children and grandchildren. It does also make one wonder if Americans would be more predisposed to selling off their parents and grandparents. It must be plumbing the dregs of our humanity to rate the advancement of the economy over generational ties and familial love.

Yet, the Lieutenant Governor would have us believe that the greater love might be better expressed in espousing the American way than having our parents and grandparents with us. Let Coronavirus take them away, for they are expendable. The economy is the god of happiness and fulfilment.

The Sabbath was made for man

I appreciate that there are many in power that have neither the emotional intelligence nor the human compassion to see the value of humanity in the face of adversity. Human beings become an inconvenience in the pursuit of riches and legalism. Like the leader of the synagogue, what mattered most was keeping the law, damn the infirm, they can suffer another day or even die than be given succour, mercy, consideration, and healing on the Sabbath.

To which Jesus responded in another place in the gospels after healing another on the Sabbath, “The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.” Mark 2:27 (NKJV)

For all the importance we want to place on the law and other activities, the human being and humanity comes first.

What is a life worth?

The question to those who think otherwise, you have to ask, “How much is a life worth?” Is it better to save life or to pursue our aims oblivious of the suffering? For the Good Samaritan saw value in the person of the helpless person who was robbed and left for dead by the wayside, just as a priest and another walked by. [The Parable of the Good Samaritan – Wikipedia]

The story that got told was of a plain Samaritan who happened to be kind, for it was his deed that saved a life, he went out of his way to act out of human kindness when he could have concentrated on the urgency of his own business. It is in recognition of his deeds that his story became that of the Good Samaritan. Human kindness is what creates the story of life that matters more than anything else.

This should be our thinking, those who are not able to put humanity first and do everything to save a life no matter the cost will be ready to sacrifice anyone including their children, parents, grandchildren, and grandparents to their other pursuits. Beware of these wolves, they are wickedness personified and evil beyond description.

Imagination is a seed to blogging

Just my imagination

“Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.” Said Stephen King the world-acclaimed novelist.

I cannot say I have read any Stephen King novel to completion; the horror genre will send my rather vivid imagination into overdrive. One night, listening to the stories read at bedtime on BBC Radio 4, I could not understand why the story took a turn for the scary, until the 15-minute abridged version was ended as an excerpt from Stephen King’s Pet Sematary.

Thankfully, I was in bed with Steven, else I would have been beside myself in fright. Whoever suggested that book for bedtime reading might have done it for a laugh, I was not impressed in the least.

The terror I saw

I have dreamt up enough to scare me out of my wits and out of my own imagination came two encounters with a huge red-breasted beastly apparition that no one else saw but convinced me I had seen the devil. This apart from the voice I heard in the middle of the night.

Blog - Childhood: Ghosts and ghouls of my past

It changed my life, I was just 10 and a witness to bizarre stories shared between my aunt and our houseboy, I took them away and developed them into my personal terror. I learnt what fear was and when I eventually ended up in boarding school, I had to be ejected because I was seeing things and reciting Psalm 23 possibly a thousand times a night, no one could sleep in my hostel until I was completely exhausted. Then. I had to be up at 5:30AM.

In the process, I was taken to seers, prophets, medicine men, bathed in forests, had incisions in unmentionable parts of my body with concoctions rubbed in, wore amulets, ate the incomprehensible and prayed more prayers to last an eternity. It probably would have been better to just take me to a child psychologist, but no one knew better.

I can blog from nothing

When it comes to blogging, I am probably still an amateur, the many times I have waited for inspiration for what I should write about, then, at other times, I have had the disciplined to begin to type away at my keyboard and the blog begins to take form and soon I have a story.

The second paragraph seeded the consequent paragraph of this blog, none of which were on my mind when I finished typing the first. As I read it back in my mind, I realised there is something to relate to horror, terror, and imagination. Then with other viewpoints to buttress the process of creating a narrative that becomes a blog. I have something I can publish.

Mothering Sunday, of Mothers and Baptism

Calling mother today

This Mothering Sunday was quite unusual, though it is commonly known as Mother’s Day, it is in fact supposed to be the Sunday when people visit their Mother church, usually, where you were baptised and it could be your local church. The extension to this is the opportunity to celebrate and honour one’s mother. [Mothering Sunday – Wikipedia]

These Coronavirus pandemic times have placed limitations on this celebration as the need for strict social distancing has closed places of worship and our mothers being more vulnerable members of society need to be protected from contracting the virus. It has meant keeping a distance from them. A friend posted visiting his mother where their social interaction happened in the front garden.

For me, I for the first time called my mother to wish her a wonderful Mother’s Day, I was taken aback at the sense of happiness, joy, and gratitude for calling her on this occasion. Then we talked about many other things as we do, between jest, banter, and seriousness. Obligatory prayers and advice, I felt good about it.

Memories of the Mother Church

Before I called, I dug up my Certificate of Baptism, I was baptised 45 years ago at the St Luke’s Anglican Church, Jos on the 31^st of March 1975. The Venerable E. A. Oyetade conducted the baptism and the witnesses, long forgotten now, but friends of my parents and members of the church then were Mrs. C. M. Obasoro, Alfred Olu Amanerimi who my mother said was from the Delta region of Nigeria, and Joseph Ajibade Kehinde.

My Certificate of Baptism with redactions.

Then, the church was in the Diocese of Northern Nigeria, until it was split off into the Anglican Diocese of Jos in 1980. This would be my mother church. It is however different from the church where I was confirmed some 6 years later at St Jude’s Anglican Church, Ijesha-Ijebu. [Anglican Diocese of Jos – Wikipedia]

I can only wonder about what has become of all these named people, whether the venerable rose up the church hierarchy to an archdeaconry or bishopric, I cannot seem to find any other information about him apart from what is on my certificate.

In the faith of my childhood

It is interesting that he wrote in my date of birth rather than my age as required by the column heading. The same can be said of the sponsors, they all have become part of my recorded history, faint memories in the minds of my parents of encounters in their son’s development of faith. People they trusted to stand as witnesses to my acceptance into the communion of the Anglican church.

Obviously, my acquaintance with other strands of Christian faith has led me to accept another baptism with full immersion in a river rather than the sprinkling of water at a font in the church building. To me, both are significant, I see the first like a baptism by John the Baptist and the second in Pentecostal circles as a baptism by the disciples of Jesus Christ, as Jesus himself did not baptise people, according to a narrative in the gospels. [BibleHub – John 4:2]

As I have written before, my wanderings in faith has led me back to the faith of my childhood in the Anglican Church. It is where I belong and find fulfilment.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Opinion: Supermarket chains are not just noticing empty shelves

Affected in some ways

I guess if I did answer a phone call any time soon, one question that would feature would be about how I am affected by the Coronavirus. Now, if someone from Yorubaland did call, I would get a greeting related to the event, the circumstance, the achievement, or my feelings.

But then, what is Coronavirus to me? It is quiet and I have made three phone calls with only the option to leave a voice mail. Whilst I am happy to sit at home alone for extended periods of time, I have decidedly pulled up the middle Venetian blind in my living room to let in natural light. This afternoon, the sun reflected off a windowpane across the road into my face, it must have been a glorious day.

The self-enforced self-isolation is fine if it is my decision, but when it is advised from an external situation, the satisfaction with being a hermit is challenged by a feeling of being imprisoned. I can handle it.

Everything is closed

There was one final notice I was expecting to see because my apartment complex which is a village of 6 apartment blocks has a games area, a gym, and a swimming pool. The leisure centre has been closed until further notice. It should not bother me because I have hardly visited the gym, but the thought that I can’t, makes it feel restricted.

Turning on my television, I am regaled with the news of empty shelves in supermarkets and the argumentum ad passions deployed regarding the elderly and NHS staff unable to get essentials from the shops. I do honestly sympathise with these people, but I am not surprised that people are stockpiling beyond what they need.

Government generated anxiety

The fact is people are concerned and they are afraid, the feeble assurances given by the government does not engender any confidence that essential goods would always be available. The communication strategy of the government has been muddled at best as they have flown kites about possible lockdowns or restrictions to movement, the natural reaction of the public would be to adversely react. It is, selfish and inconsiderate behaviour, not in any way unexpected.

The blame for this lies majorly with the messages of the leadership. If you cannot inspire confidence or persuade people of the greater good especially after the division that has dogged our society for the past few years no appeal to good nature would suddenly make the selfless out of the buffeted by uncertainty, worry and concern.

Blame supermarket lethargy

Supermarkets would just have to rejig their logistics to fulfil inventories in these trying times, supply chains would also have to become more agile and responsive to changing demands. The supermarkets cannot now say they are unaware that they are running out of bread, toilet paper, pasta, or hand sanitiser. They might not have been able to anticipate the run on goods, but they could have done more to address the shortages once it became obvious.

That in these highly automated logistics environments, they have not been able to scale up and adapt to changes in demand or adjust their supply chains suggests there are fundamental flaws in the system that the Coronavirus pandemic has exposed. Also, assurances from the supermarkets have to be met with commensurate action; stock the shelves.

Meanwhile, those who thrived on gaining political power with lies, proffering easy answers to complex questions have now been met with an intricate conundrum that hyperbole allows us to suggest has not been encountered before; the inept are now in government.

In my case, I would just go for a walk around the block and maybe sit in the gated village garden to meditate. This will pass.

Thought Picnic: How courtesy begets gratitude

Tough teachers in life

Having a sense of gratitude must always be one of the best expressions of our humanity. First, the humility to express it and acceptance from those to which it is directed can yield nothing but good. There are things I have taken for granted that were easily passé until adversity, infirmity, misfortune, disappointment, or regret gave me a wealth of experience I would have preferred to learn through easier means.

Yet, in life, they are all tough teachers, and the hope is whatever lesson is at the end of any experience is properly learnt and hopefully taught to others before they live through what you would rather not live through again.

Two amazing consultants

It must have been a kind of uncanny coincidence that earlier this evening, two consultants who have committed their expertise to my critical care tweeted within minutes of each other highlighting the work of their teams towards the Coronavirus pandemic.

The first, I met in September 2009 when I was diagnosed with a prognosis of 5 weeks if I was unable to respond positively to the regime of treatment that included gruelling chemotherapy that I took for 5 months. He was my consultant for a little over 3 years before I returned from The Netherlands to the UK.

The current, I met just about 3 years ago having been through a couple of consultants in London and then Manchester. When she introduced herself by letter, I did my research into her body of work and career in the UK and in South Africa, I was also able to glean such intimate detail about her personal life, all inadvertently online. Our first consultation left me probably more knowledgeable about her than she had readily studied from my notes.

Know your medical notes

In both cases, in fact, in all cases, I appreciate all the consultants that have been involved in the delivery of my care. I learnt that it was crucially important for me to know in detail everything about my condition, my treatments, areas of research, development and progress regarding my situation whilst being honest, forthright, and clear when talking about it with my consultants.

That did not come easily, my first consultant gave me that confidence because even as a professor of medicine, he took the time to explain the options for my treatment to me, printed out all the information I needed to know about the treatments, side effects and outcomes, listened to my concerns, actively taking them into consideration in the final decision process that I knew I had considerable influence in whatever direction my treatments would take.

The power of courtesy

My condition at the time of diagnosis was one of foolish negligence on my part, I was never judged nor condemned for it. It presented a rare opportunity for them to tackle a situation that medical science had satisfactorily caught up with and to students who were present at my consultations, it signified what a difference the knowledge and experience they eventually acquire to do in the future.

As a patient, I felt I had control because I was treated with respect, courtesy, and consideration. The freedom of expression and conversation between consultant and patient meant that we could easily discuss the medical issues as well as the broader life issues in a kind of holistic approach to patient well-being.

So, to my consultant in The Netherlands, I promised once the Coronavirus pandemic was over, I was going to visit him, which he acknowledged with a kind compliment. My current consultant, I will be seeing in a month for my biannual check-up. For myself, I have been blessed to have had these amazing people as my consultants and I will always be grateful for their professionalism, humanity, and kindness. Never be remiss in having a sense of gratitude.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester

Politicians polluting prospects

These Coronavirus pandemic times appear to invade every aspect of life and quite inconveniently for all. That it is fronted more by politicians that need to manage the message rather than experts who deal with facts does not make it any easier.

For instance, without any supporting data, Boris Johnson was suggesting this whole matter would be over in 12 weeks. I guess in the absence of any good news you throw something out there and leave everyone who really heard you scratching their heads in incredulity.

It does not engender confidence, it is as reckless as it is irresponsible, it is no time for soundbites from an inveterate japester. We want to send the virus packing, but it would take more than standing at a rostrum japing and genuflecting. [The Guardian]

Shut up, Donald

Over across the pond, Donald Trump stepped up to suggest Hydroxychloroquine was the panacea to the Coronavirus and the drugs was ready to be ramped up for prescriptive use. The FDA had not approved the drug as it was still being tested and was still being accessed for viability.

Various drug regimens are being deployed to this disease, many still unproven and inconclusive to determine what works and Donald Trump simply jumped the gun with the risk of forcing the system in a direction that could prove completely impulsive. [Daily Beast]

Those of us who used quinine compound drugs for the treatment of malaria in childhood experienced maddening side effects of severe itching of the palms of the hands and the soles of the feet. No one who experienced it drew any comfort from that knowledge especially when antihistamines did not reduce the itching.

Since sliced bread disappeared

I stepped out earlier to get some shopping, as the last time I was out, there was no sliced bread on the shelves, they are literally run out of eggs and all the toilet rolls were invisible. I am still at a loss as to why toilet rolls matter so much for the Coronavirus pandemic, I have not noticed acutely incessant diarrhoea as one of the major symptoms of contracting the virus. Then I don’t use hand sanitiser, I just use soap and water.

Today, at noon, sliced bread, toilet rolls and pasta were missing from the shelves, though I have enough food at home, it is worrisome that panic buying belies the lack of useful assurances, prevarication, and indecision from the government. The messages are mixed when pubs, restaurants and public places should be closed forthwith, and the government put in ameliorating steps to support businesses through these uncertain times.

Coronavirus streets

Leaving my local Sainsbury’s, I walked down to the low-budget Spar to see if I could get a loaf of sliced bread when I noticed to my left that the Grade II listed Refuge Assurance building that became the Palace Hotel and changed to The Principal Manchester, three years ago has now become the Kimpton Clock Tower Hotel. I have not noticed a building change names that many times in such a short while. [LiveAndLetsFly]

Obviously, there is some interest in the historic building within the hospitality industry and I suppose each new offer has been impossible to refuse. I am not holding my breath; I give it another couple of years, and it might be called the Changeling Hotel. [Historic England]

Further on, Starbucks was open but without seats and tables, having transitioned to a Grab-and-Go coffee shop. It looked quite eerie from outside. There were people on the streets, masks on many apparently from the Asian subcontinent, though long before this pandemic, many did plod our streets with masks. I did get my loaf of sliced bread from Spar and I made my way home. [Business Insider]

Opinion: Of our PM, cometh the hour, cometh no man

A good time to lead

I mused openly on Twitter about what a time it must be to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and the First Lord of the Treasury. To sit in office as the leader of the 6^th largest economy in the world whose waning global influence is deftly characterised by the will of the people in Brexit ensconced in a nostalgic past that never existed.

Boris Johnson won a landslide election on the mantra of ‘Get Brexit Done’ then promulgated laws to really get it done within a timeframe that would never shift at the pain of illegality. We left the EU for a transitional period until the end of the year on January the 31^st.

Now, all that Boris and his team had to do was wait out the rest of the year distracting us with either a Canada+ deal or and Australian deal, which in effect is a ‘no deal’ scenario, because Australia has no deal with the EU.

A joke too far

Boris Johnson wanted to be Prime Minister so bad, he gambled on a lot of things, a fantasist with no acquaintance to the truth through his journalistic career, his penchant for abuse passed off as inconsequential banter is well-documented that it needs no repeating here. It is probably not delusional to think that having once been the Mayor of London, higher office beckoned.

Theresa May, whose record as Prime Minister, history might be less forgiving for, plucked him out of looming obscurity and made him Foreign Secretary, it was a joke that went too far, but it paved the way to the resurrection of a leadership dilettante whose charisma is a mountain to the molehill of his scruples or principles.

His cup to drink from

If for a moment, he as the Lord before his Passion did have a Garden of Gethsemane moment, a clear recognition of what the responsibility of the Prime Minister held beyond winging it as a circus clown with bombast, bluster and buffoonery, he might have prayed or rather refused to drink of the cup. The intoxicating brew of Brexit became a mission of drunken desire which as it reached ferment found the sweetening of spoonsful of the Coronavirus.

Now, duty calls to rise to the occasion, like he (Jesus) who went to the cross knowing the suffering it entailed or his hero, Winston Churchill, who with honest oratory painted the big picture with all its gloom whilst leading a nation through the hardship of World War II to victory over Nazism, I fear, with the Coronavirus pandemic, the hour has come, but the man is absent.

If there be any redeeming feature of Boris Johnson apart from his ability to make babies, it would be a transfiguration before our eyes, I would however not expect any of the great Prime Ministers of the United Kingdom to waste their eternal repose coming up for a chat. He is Prime Minister, and I wish him well if hubris doesn’t get the better of him first.

But I can better let my sympathies be with those in harm’s way, our NHS legion of people of inestimable value, for whom necessary protection is still stockpiled somewhere rather than on them, wearing the kit to keep them safe.