Ahmedinejad-Bush coming to your television

Looking at a rather smart Iran

I can only wonder who is making brisk business selling seats for the debate of the Century, two presidents of states that are arch-enemies squaring up against each other to discuss world affairs.

Having now proved to all that precision weapons are not that smart enough to disarm a guerrilla movement through their proxy in Lebanon and commissioned a heavy water reactor plant for Uranium enrichment, Iran is playing a rather deft diplomatic hand that is leaving the United States rather flat-footed.

I can pointedly note that Condoleezza Rice has not been able to set foot in the Middle East having brought forth through the serious birth pangs of a New Middle East a baby that would spit out milk that comes from America.

In fact, it is now left to Kofi Annan and the UN to clean up the debacle of that inconclusive 34-day war.

Let us talk to the world together

So, as we await Iran’s response to proposals of hypocrisy that aim to preclude Iran from the enrichment of Uranium on suspicion of dual-use intentions that could lead to a nuclear bomb; Dr Ahmedinejad who only the day before in a released statement about a letter to Angela Merkel sent in July about the Holocaust being a debilitating hoax to hamstring Germany, has now challenged Mr George Bush to a live television debate.

This challenge would obviously be dismissed as expected by the White House as a diversion from global concerns about Iran’s nuclear weapons.

But then I ask whose concerns exactly? Apart from those of the privileged nuclear world whose main actors surround Iran on all sides with wars and unrest whilst sponsoring opportunities for insurrection within Iran.

I think both presidents do have something to say and it is time that those presidents met and thrashed things out rather that employing megaphone diplomacy and railroading the UN into precarious resolutions that bring more trouble into an already troubled world.

It is also poignant to note that Laura Bush took the podium in New Orleans at the first anniversary of Hurricane Katrina; Mr Bush’s ratings do not put him in any reckoning apart from accepting more faults and responsibility for the poor management of the Katrina aftermath.

New ideas needed

North Korea however is probably busy planning another sabre-rattling missile fly-past over Japan as they beat their chests over having nuclear weapons and getting away with it all, the whole concept of nuclear deterrence has failed and new ideas with safeguards that even-handedly address global issues for security, energy and military might need to be debated on an equality and partnership forum.

It is now not enough for some countries to hijack the debate to meet ulterior ends whilst purporting to act on behalf of the world, those arguments which have been played back a broken vinyl record no more excite the resonance of ground-breaking, inspired or worthwhile points – rather they all look like ways of getting at that axis-of-evil.

A high wooden horse

It is now time for America to climb down from their high horse and begin to do the anathema, address the causes of terrorism, address the problems in the Middle East from the occupied lands to the support of tyrannical regimes and worst of all, maybe it is time to talk to Osama bin Laden, because this mad war on terror is doing nothing for peace on earth and goodwill to all men.

On a final note, would this war on our liberties, freedoms and privacy masquerading as the war on terror have any bite if we all knew that Osama bin Laden were dead?

My contribution to the war on terror - suspicion

Getting on a first class coach

Suddenly, I have found that I am being subconsciously programmed into the mindset of the war on terror as subjective analysis and profiling upset my peace of mind as I travel from place to place.

On my return from Brussels, I had the unfortunate situation of not travelling light which meant I could not move between coaches that easily.

Unlike the German or French trains, the platforms for Belgian trains in the Netherlands or Belgium are not signposted to signify what part of the train has the first class carriages which are usually at one end, so one has to stand in the centre and then run either way as the train arrives to the right end.

I got on, reclined my seat and dozed off as I usually do when I get on any moving vehicle where I am not the driver.

Passengers from hell and beyond

When we got to Antwerp a group of people got on, probably eight in number all adult from middle-aged to probably pension age.

The older men had dulcet sounding tones to their conversation, the middle-aged ones were like claxons at full blast and the women were like banshees shrieking at a ghoulish congregation of fearsome festivities in a cemetery at some utterly forsaken place.

I prayed they had second class tickets, hoping the ticket conductor would move them on, but no, they had paid to be in company and be completely inconsiderate of other passengers.

Then one of their number started playing with phone tones at peak volume, at which point, I should have gotten up and shouted some abuse at them, but someone else beat me to it, it only helped the situation a little.

Crude profiling praying for action

Then all this disturbance was done in a foreign language I could not understand, it was probably Turkish or Turkic and then I suddenly had a kindred feeling with those who had two Asians thrown off a plane travelling from Malaga to Manchester and I just could not be objective about it.

If only we could get the conductor to throw these people off at the next minor train stop for not conforming to accepted first class passenger conduct and speaking a foreign language to the inconvenience of us all.

Unusual behaviour feeding suspicion

Then when going to church yesterday, some four Moroccans got on the metro and rather than sit down considering the carriage was half-empty they were walking up and down the length of the coach without any order to whatever they were doing.

That really made many of us uncomfortable, could they be planning something like a mugging on the train or some dastardly terrorist act?

Once again, I felt like calling the police to see into what they were up to and get them off the train.

What is acceptable anyway?

Why can’t people just board public transport with the modicum of decency to behave in a generally unsuspicious and civil manner?

My fear is that I am slowly getting assimilated into a mindset that suspects everything and gets weary of people if they look or act differently, the problem is I can easily fall into the category of someone who looks different, and in desperate situations would I also get betrayed on needless suspicion and by atrocious bigotry?

This war on terror does make everyone vulnerable in these uncertain and interesting times.

I take this opportunity

The nuisance of association

I have for years shunned gatherings of Nigerians for any kind of activity. The one I joined recently which pertains to my membership of the Nigerian chapter of students on my Masters course more or less ended up looking like subscribing to a SPAM generator and as if that was not bad enough, one email inadvertently sent to all included a squabble that was far from edifying to all concerned.

I was of the good mind of withdrawing from that chapter, however, the moderator prevailed on me to accommodate a few of those nuisances as part of what is Nigerian rather than protesting from a too Westernised perspective.

From buyer to guest

So, the proprietor of the African foodstuffs and goods store at the entrance to the Central Station Metro platforms in Amsterdam passed me an invitation to her 50^th birthday celebrations which I gladly accepted.

We continually have all this idle banter about all sorts of events and issues that leaves us all with belly laughs that could leave some in tears too. When she said she was looking youthful, I asked for the secret and if it was on sale; exceedingly nice lady.

Hail Mary or Bloody Mary

The Africa House was to be the venue of the event which would have started with a Roman Catholic Service at noon, but since I was already going to my church, it meant I missed having to mouth my Hail Mary’s which might lead to the Mother of God streaming tears down from the eyes of a statue somewhere on the premises – Our Lady of Africa House might leave some thinking the shrine was animist rather than Roman Catholic.

Anyway, as I got there, it was obvious that we had gathered for a big party, most of the women in traditional wear with skyscraper headgear and antennas pointing in all directions.

Scruffy dressers in esteemed company

Many of the men were in jackets or suits, but the sloppy dressers with all buttons done up really irritate the dormant snob in me, I still cannot believe any well brought up person would do up all the buttons on their suits or jackets.

If one were to quote Sir Hardy Amies – one time dressmaker for the Queen, one would say, “How scruffy you look today, dear boy”. I do remember him saying you could not trust a man who did up all his buttons; somehow, subconsciously one takes a dim view of such appearances, if their conversation could ever result in anything better than piffle.

The look the problem

On the woman, I could not help but notice the ones who probably in the Igbo tradition had been fattened for marriage that they had a rolling or maybe revolving gait visible from behind, if that was not arresting enough, some definite accentuated the gyration, it was so deliberate they would be needing a hip replacement not too soon.

The men approaching middle age who had their hair shorn all seemed to have these double folds of flesh at the back of their heads, in fact, I did remember my father has those folds, they were substantially muscular and felt like Achilles tendons only that they were at the back of the head.

It had me feeling the back of my head towards the neck for signs and the silent prayer that if it is avoidable, then I do not want that additional feature as part of my pose in a silhouette.

Ceremony or cacophony

There was a programme distributed and the MC arrived a bit late, but as things got going, 30 minutes of getting people to the high table must be a record, because it Nigeria, it takes a lot longer with speeches from everyone that is anyone.

Every introduction started with, “I take this opportunity to invite …” from chiefs to untitled proletariats, space was found to be occupied by the honoured and privileged.

The celebrant all dressed up beautifully and flamboyantly made an entrance; a group of ladies all bedecked in the same attire waving white handkerchiefs surrounded her signing songs and dancing.

Then later the children of the celebrant presented her with flowers to the music of Prince Nico Mbarga of Sweet Mother fame, then I noticed money being sprayed – flinging, throwing, flooding or pasting of currency – on the celebrant.

Dollars trump the Euro

Ah! The Euro does not lend itself to this kind of hedonistic aggrandisement that characterises Nigerian parties, European notaphily begins with the 5 Euro note, and so, it was dollars (one dollar notes) which by the time I left had been gathered to fill a decent sized bin bag.

This, apart from the brisk business of money changers that could fill you with Jesus rage, only that one cannot go upturning the high table.

Food and drinks flowed along with situations where certain favoured guests end up with unopened bottles of wine to take home and I did attain favoured status in company.

The Master Chatterbox

The MC however never really got to excite or control the crowd, be it for getting up for prayer, or getting people to respond to chants of Praise the Lord or Igbo Kwenu, but I definitely did give apploss (sic) when it was asked for.

I never got to meet the celebrant but I got her daughter to deliver my card and present after attending for 3 hours in what looked like it would go on late into the night. Interesting event and strange practices, I think I have become a lot less Nigerian than I thought I was.

The job just comes

Fortunate and grateful

In my career life, I have been so fortunate. In the last 12 years, I have hardly had a job where I have had to do all the footwork, rather, there has always been someone, some company, some contract in which I have worked that has lead to another opportunity somewhere else.

I realise, I am never so aggressive about looking for work even though in some cases one should be concerned about knowing when the next bank bloat would be.

But then, I learnt the most important lesson about work just when I went freelance contracting that each day you are appearing at work, you are writing your reference and laying out the paths to success or destruction of your career.

The evil men do

Two CVs came in prospecting for work from people who had worked in that company a few years before. The department manager was new and knew nothing about them so he sounded round other staff about these people.

The report was so bad, I cringed, one had spent all his time running another business rather than doing his work, the other was considered lazy and lackadaisical have done some unmentioned damage to the systems in their tenure.

Basically, this report made them unemployable, since the IT world is fluid, the dispersal of people means that this message would propagate eventual to other opportunities, to redeem themselves they have to be aware of this situation and begin to rebuild their reputations anew – what is almost impossible is rebuilding that with old contacts.

Certification is just the beginning

The lesson reinforced my views about character and professionalism at work, most especially when you are on a short-term contracts, my next job came about through two avenues; a contract that barely lasted 5 weeks and an agency I have worked for since the beginning of the year, it would probably lead on to other things.

I remember when there was a rush by people to attain vendor certifications to move from postal clerk jobs of £7.00/hour to the entry-level £20.00/hour contract jobs in IT Support. Many saw the MCSE and CNE as ends rather than means of developing new careers.

The contracts usually only lasted no more than 3 months before they moved on, having left jobs as fumblers, problem creators and unprofessionally aggressive people with eyes for the money only. By the time they had the first pay packet, they were in the car showroom looking for a show-off Lexus automobile.

I would want to believe that that generation of sorry and hapless contractors have either been eliminated from the market or they have learnt to make better use of their acquired certification to improve their knowledge and usefulness to industry.

Giving thanks

In the end, I believe my life is encompassed with favour and grace rather than sheer luck and good fortune, though in a secular world they all seem to matter.

What better thing could I have done with all these wonderful happenings than to go to church and give thanks for all the blessings that pour into my life everyday.

Making an ass of a South African policeman

Qualified to Minister?

Sometimes, one wonders what qualifications are required other than political affiliation and cronyism to become ministers of the realm in many governments.

The Nigerian Blog World is bursting with opinions about the suitability and qualifications of the current Finance Minister who understudied as a Minister of State in that Ministry a seemingly more capable person who had PhD in regional economics and development and was a vice-president at the World Bank.

Though it is said that the current Finance Minister is respected internationally, for a country like Nigeria with a huge oil economy undergoing extensive reforms, a BSc in Geography and Post Graduate Diploma in Management in some countries might just be sufficient for a middle-level position in Local Government.

In any case, she is now the Finance Minister and we can only expect that she would perform with excellence despite our general misgivings.

New treatments for HIV/AIDS

In South Africa, certain ministerial appointments and the antics of the ministerial personnel borders on the laughable as they make pronouncements that would have circus clowns look unfunny.

The Health Minister, Manto Tshabalala-Mismang is apparently medically trained culminating in a Masters in Public Health. There is no doubt that the side effects and toxicities of HIV/AIDS drugs are issues of concern.

However, to then use that issue to advocate the treatment of AIDS with lemon, beetroot and garlic without empirical medical or pharmacological research to support that basis makes this qualified doctor look like a quack.

Group-think AIDS malady

To compound issues, these bizarre statements were made at an international conference on the HIV/AIDS.

For a country like South Africa that has such a high number of infected citizens, the health minister has for 7 years been the worst possible person to appoint to address a situation that borders on a national crisis.

This is not helped by the fact that certain obtuse ideologues in leadership are viewing HIV/AIDS as a purely social issue instead of seeing the serious medical and public health perspective to the problem.

The clamour for her resignation if not her sacking cannot be loud enough; this woman has failed to grasp the context and brief of her ministerial portfolio, to say the least.

The making of a crime story

It is not strange to see policemen in Amsterdam in cars, on scooters, on bicycles, on roller-blade skates, on horses or strolling on foot; they get around the town just as everyone does and they do command a modicum of authority.

Returning to South Africa, which supposedly has one of the highest crime rates in the world, anyone in charge of dealing with crime should be adequately providing resources to the men on the ground to tackle serious crime whilst maintaining a façade of authority and respect.

In the case of South Africa, this might mean armed personnel, reinforced cars equipped with radios, photographic equipment and a few other paraphernalia that would allow effective arrests and quick despatch of cases.

So, one would think it valid when the police suggest they cannot get to crime scenes because they do not have cars – cars in themselves provide some sort of protection to the occupants as they race to crime scenes.

An ass of a policeman

The minister in charge (Minister of Safety and Security), Charles Nqakula offers a “better” suggestion; they should ride bicycles or donkeys to those crime scenes or get out of the police force. It might sound rhetorical or metaphorical, but I think he is deathly serious.

Bicycles, I can understand, but then how do you get the suspect back to the police station for charging and questioning as part of your investigation and prosecution process.

Now, there no way any policeman who mounts an ass is going to command the authority to take charge or exude the seriousness that entertains a crime scene; even if he had a gun, he would be a jumped up version of the milky-bar kid.

If the policeman had to chase after offenders, an ass or donkey is hardly the kind of runner for that sort of thing, they are more beasts of burden; you could probably lay dead men on the donkey but not criminals.

Arrest this stupidity

The minister with a past career in journalism is probably good at writing fantasy stories but serious crime affects lives, people, property and economies at large.

He should be addressing the core issue of ensuring that the police force is equipped to meet the challenges of a 21^st Century South African society.

Headline grabbing sound bites that pour scorn and ridicule on the people of South Africa would not do, in fact, it would appear that a background in law enforcement or the military would be better suited for this job.

Political appointments

It would appear there are some ministerial appointments of convenience in very sensitive positions where the said ministers become untouchables even though they are performing no beneficial ministerial function for their people.

What leaves one astounded is that many end up pontificating in such a way that their heads do not check what their mouths are saying, however, it is the chief executive, the head of government we should hold responsible for making appointments where possibly better qualified citizens are available to do a better job for their people.

The Finance Minister in Nigeria is yet to prove herself, but the tow South African ministers reviewed here have proved that we probably can get donkeys to do better jobs than they are doing.

It is time for the president to move the war on corruption to the next stage; a war on ministerial incompetence.

Made in America - just in your backyard

Well, apart from losing credibility amongst the Arabs, the crocodile tears posture of America in investigating Israel’s use of cluster bombs in Lebanon smacks of rank hypocrisy to say the least.

The embarrassment of finding unexploded bombs in Lebanon with the proudly emblazoned “Made in America” label is just one muddle that America would require superhuman diplomacy to dig itself out of.

If you give a child a loaded gun and expect sensible usage, you’ll be dead before you think of ways of getting it back – the big morale of the story.

Read on …

Alas! Pluto. Thou hast been diminished amongst thy peers

Holst the mystic

Lovers of classical music must have for years wondered who would write a movement to complete Gustav Holst’s The Planets for Pluto.

Gustav Holst wrote a movement for all planets, except the Earth, where he lived and by then Pluto had not been discovered, he then refused to write one for Pluto, even though Pluto was discovered in his lifetime.

However, if you note that the movement for Neptune is called The Mystic, one might just surmise that Holst had seen further into space and time to realise that Pluto would be demoted from a planet to a dwarf.

There would be recriminations for that dramatic change, but for now, we have a complete collection reflected by the Planets as envisaged by Gustav Holst.

The planet that most excites me is Jupiter, The Bringer of Jollity and the score for that patriotic song and Anglican hymn – I vow to thee, My country – it was so movingly performed at the wedding and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales.