Generosity and Forgiveness

Recently a furore erupted about a lady named Mayowa in Nigeria. Having announced that she had cancer, a justgiving page was set up, collections were instigated and managed, and great amounts of money were raised to further treatment and care.

And then, having reached the magic milestone of her collection target, a social media blogger determined that the whole collection was a scam. Mayowa was not sick, the world had been duped, and well-meaning citizens the world over were incensed that somebody would go to such lengths to enrich themselves.

But this story has a bitter-sweet ending. Mayowa was sick, dreadfully so. The collection was a valid attempt by her family to save the life of a loved one. Sadly, she died not too long after.

This back story is shared because, recently, another incident happened. It's not something that will play out in the media circus of social media. But good men and women have been hurt because of the actions of one person.

In analysing these happenings, I have concluded as follows:

One must do due diligence the best one knows how when ascertaining whether a good deed will actually lead to a positive outcome. We acknowledge that a good result may not always be the saving of a life.

However, in giving, as in love, one is liable to get hurt. We must be open to the possibility of experiencing pain in order that we may reap the reward of being true to the hope of love and a better world. The art of the giver is to avoid allowing the misdirection and dissembling of another less noble character to derail one from a pre-determined course of greatness, whether through acts of generosity, service, great invention, or the simple act of being a selfless friend.

The epitaph on ones headstone will never read "Here lies the body of 'X', thwarted by the misdeeds of 'Y'" The final testimony will be in terms of what we did, irrespective of the failings of those around us. So, in giving, give cheerfully. Know that sometimes we will get it wrong in giving, as in love. People will fail us, as we are wont to fail others. But one must perfect the art, because giving in love is all we have.

The Issue of Colour

There was a time I didn't like being black. Perhaps it had something to do with the incessant bullying I encountered on a daily basis. Or maybe it was a product of not knowing enough black history. But I definitely thought being black was detrimental to my existence. I distinctly recall discussing the issue of being black with a Ghanaian school mate way before the days of multiple TV channels and mobile phones. It was simple - I hated being black, I would NEVER have a black girlfriend (heaven forbid), and I really wished I were white. I mean, the whites seemed to be blessed and highly favoured amongst all men. But I am thankful that the experiences of bygone days have made me proud, strong and confident in my blackness.

Instead, I am now having to cry for the potential loss of freedom in the childhood of our offspring. I'm constrained to wail that we are backtracking on progress. When a black child has to tell his mother he wishes he were white, it sadly reminds me of my childhood. But this happened in the present. A child is sad that she's prevented from being "mother" in some playground revelry because of the colour of her skin - not in the 1970s, but in 2016. When statisticians tell us that black children are most likely to grow up with absentee fathers, how is it that our law enforcement is responsible for numerous orphans and widows? The education of children should include the freedom to express oneself and play with abandon. We want to tell our children that the police uniform is a beacon of safety. The flashing lights of the "blues and twos" should allay all fear of the here and now. Alas, our children are watching the news and asking whether the police will kill them too. It's even more worrying that this is now a cross-border phenomenon. America has sneezed - the world is catching the flu.

How is it that, in the 21st Century, being black is such a negative thing? How did Alton Sterling end up dead on the floor whilst being restrained by two law enforcement officers? How did Philando Castile, a man reaching for the credentials asked of him by the police, end up dead in his car whilst his fiancée and child were left to watch the sudden and violent demise of their most loved family member? Somebody needs to explain the "death in police custody" stats. Over 1500 people have been killed by police in the last two years. Of those deaths, 30% have been black people. Yet the black population of the WHOLE of America is only 13%. More importantly, it's becoming frightening how many blacks killed by police were either in retreat or restrained at the time of death.

I'm sad for America. Heartbroken for the parents, siblings and offspring of each and every black person who has been so savagely halted in the throes of achieving their dreams - no matter how big or small. My heart wails for every one of the hopefully well-meaning police officers who were killed in Dallas in a desperate cry for justice. In truth, it's terrible news all round for America. But here's the thing: If you boil water or heat gas in a confined space, with no escape for the resultant building pressure, something eventually has to give. Two black men gunned down, from defenceless positions, in the same number of days. No less than four law enforcement personnel involved in a senseless and avoidable loss of life. I don't, in any way, condone or support the catastrophic violence that followed in Dallas. However, this was a powder keg just waiting to ignite. Sadly, violence begets violence when the wheels of justice cease to turn. As POTUS said, these are not isolated incidents.

I'm reminded of past proponents of equality, champions of a life less volatile. Malcolm X warned us of the days where the media would vilify the oppressed and praise the oppressor. And yet his rallying cry was for wholesale truth and justice.

This can not, and must not, be the sadness that we sleep on each day. We cannot allow this to be the legacy of the generations coming behind us. The world expects better of America. Americans demand better. It saddens me that this is the daily narrative in the "Land of the Free".

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"I mourn the loss of thousands of previous lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that". - Martin Luther King, Jr.

...Blinkers in Politics

I am feeling aggrieved. Social media is a world away from the days of writing a letter. Back then (it kind of shows my age when I utter those two words) knowing what somebody else was thinking meant you either had to sit down and listen to them face to face or read the latest letter they had sent to you or a member of your friend / family circle.

The world of "microwave" communication changed all that. We know what people are thinking almost as quickly as the thought has entered their head - normally because they publish it.

I grew up in a time when I was the only black kid in my first school and only one of two in my second school. It meant that, for the first ten years of my schooling life, I was running a gauntlet of racist and ignorant kids who wanted nothing more than to humiliate me or cause me pain - simply for the colour of my skin. These were the days of the National Front, Skin Heads and the DM-wearing punks who looked down on anybody who wasn't white. But over time we managed to sideline these pedlars of vitriolic rhetoric and accept that diversity was the way to progress.

Skip a few decades and it seems we are reverting to some very dark times. Our kids are not yet being beaten up on a daily basis. But they are pelted with xenophobic slogans. Their authenticity in the world is questioned, purely because of the colour of their skin or the origin of their parents or grandparents. We won't even talk of the institutional issues that face people of colour. So today I am saddened to have received this notification regarding the political campaign of a decent chap who I spent some time in school with:

"Not an American? I want people born and raised in the USA. I WANT THEIR PARENTS TO
BE Americans. Sorfy. You don't get my vote just cause your black".

You'll have to excuse the grammar - it appears that some US-born people don't have the ability to punctuate properly.

But here's the thing. There are very few people, born in the USA, who are not immigrants. Many of them can trace their heritage across continents. Immigrants built a large portion of the infrastructure that Americans proudly call their own. These same immigrants gladly and selflessly stand up for the rights of all, irrespective of ethnicity, age, sexual or religious orientation, or any other marker one might want to mention.

When you choose to vote based on the colour of ones skin rather than the value of ones politics, you are the loser. When you question a person based on the level of melanin in their body rather than their ability to draw people closer together, you are the dividing force in the political arena. If you can't see beyond where somebody was born, to the value of their input in your community, the lives of you and all those you hold dear will be less enriched. If you are spewing hate via social media, whilst pretending to be nice to the diverse population of service providers in your life, you are the problem. And it is partially the fault of you, and people like you, that the world is low in the currency of human kindness.

I salute the courage of the person who is Yomi Faparusi. I respect his courage to continue in the face of hate and ignorance. I applaud his resolve to face prejudice head on in his bid to support the American Dream. And I stand, if only in principle, with every immigrant who has chosen to make a home in a new country. Blinkered politics has no place here. To paraphrase Martin Luther King, Jr., there is more depth to character than skin colour.

Manners and the EU

If you were to ask anybody what characteristics the British are known for, it's likely that people would mention our stiff upper lip, our love of tea, an obsession with the weather, and how polite we tend to be when in the company of others. Generally, I have a tendency to agree. After all, I'm British and I have love-hate relationship with our weather. I'm partial to tea - whether it be the old-fashioned Tetley's or PG Tips, or the more modern herbal variety. And it's likely that you'll see me letting others get on the bus first, especially if they were at the stop before me.

What I do not agree with, is heckling. It's uncharacteristically impolite to shout others down. I come from that school of thought that suggests that everybody has an opinion, irrespective of how right or wrong that opinion may appear in my eyes.

I was both shocked and appalled with the manner of Nigel Farage's recent conduct at the European Parliament. It wasn't enough that he has shown himself to be aligned with the Far Right of the British political agenda. He was totally uncouth in his deliberations. It is undignified in the extreme to cast aspersions on a whole sitting parliament, simply because some of the members may not have had the same experience as himself. Each member has a certain amount of worth, irrespective of whether they were elected by the wider EU population. They were sent by their associated countries to represent their interests at the highest level within Europe. The biggest concern is that the British thought Mr. Farage was a good fit for us.

Like many, over 16 million others, I am not happy that we voted to leave the EU. However, one of the biggest benefits seems to be that we will not have to worry about the over £150K that is being claimed by a man who exhibits very little in the way of ettiquette.

The EU Referendum

Yesterday morning breakfast was served by the kitchen staff. 52% of the restaurant thought it was great. The rest thought the meal was at various stages along the spectrum of horrible to disgusting. And then there were those who complained but didn't take part in either the preparation or eating of the meal.

So, over the course of the next six months, let's see whether the chefs are able to serve up a better meal. In the meantime, let us fully embrace what's on offer. Otherwise, it may be time to "leave the restaurant or get out of the kitchen".

For me, BREXIT was a demolition of the values I believe in. And yet I respect the fact that divergent views are the makeup of our independence and democratic DNA. What I find hard to stomach is the levels of vitriol and xenophobic nonsense that the LEAVE campaign generated. Immigration will be an issue, long after the political dust has settled and Brussels have decided on the cost of our divorce.

REMAIN lost this argument on the backs the electorate in the 50+ age category. Alas it's the beautiful ones yet born, and those who have yet to make their mark on the nation, that will carry the burden of the decisions made by UK PLC.

Ferguson - Beyond the hurt and the pain

Last night it was confirmed that the policeman who shot  Michael Brown would not be indicted.

This has been deemed a travesty of justice and a gross dereliction of duty by the vast majority of St. Louis residents. It's especially true of the Afro-American community.

I am immensely proud of the Brown family in these trying times. They seek justice for the crime of murder they believe has been visited upon them. But they ask Afro-Americans to make a difference. And I'm happy to see that President Obama stands beside them in asking for a calm and reasoned response to the Grand Jury's findings.

But we must stop and think. In the wake of the announcement our brothers and sisters went on the rampage. We confronted the police. We damaged property. We looted, set fire, launched missiles. To what end?

Yes - we vented our anger and frustration. But we also gave life to the lie that black people are troublemakers. We've fuelled the fire that allows some strains of our society to affirm that Afro-Americans are violent thieves, looters and plunderers of wealth we have no claim to, stirrers of the embers of racial dichotomy.

We have not stood firm and acted like our proud ancestors - they raised their hearts and voices against the drawn guns and raised batons of the repressionist institution of law and race enforcement. We have allowed our immediate pain to vent in a counter-intuitive manner. We have raised the hand of violence to declare our hatred of the same.

Hear my sincere heart. This violence will solve nothing. Let's go back to our homes and think long and hard about what we want. Let's educate our kids, raise them right and teach them the basics of respect for life and love for all. Let's talk to our youth and help them to express themselves in a positive light so the nation takes notice. And let's train ourselves too. When we can speak up rather than "tool up" we are stronger. When our voices are heard and the gunshots are silenced - we are stronger.

When we can do this we can effect the change to our legal system, law enforcement and the way we are seen as part of this great nation.

Ferguson - Stand strong. St Louis - Stand up and stand firm. Missouri - Look beyond. America - Re-evaluate and stop the violence.

Unidentified Item in the Bagging Area

Last night I treated myself to a pre-birthday outing at a small, off the beaten track, location in London's Angel. 

The Old Red Lion, the venue for my escapade, is situated above a pub of the same monicker. As pubs go, it's a great place but I'm more interested in what's up the short flight of stairs. So I'm pleasantly surprised at the small but homely box that greets me as I walk through the door. 

@ORLTheatre is quaint and cosy. No giant swing back chairs and cup holders here. Instead guests are welcomed by church-style pews with comfy cushions and soft background music. As we wait for the action to start there's a sense of expecting a few friends to pop in and chill out for the evening. Such a great change from the normal "let's get on with it" approach.

#UI_BaggingArea is not your average theatre piece. Opening with a gynaecological exam of 50-year-old Victoria, we are taken through a comic, sometimes heartbreaking, tour de force of menopause, anger, separation, boredom and a desire for something greater from life. 

The "counselling" scene reminds us that sometimes seeking help from others is not always the answer because the helper also needs help. And the anger shown in the supermarket reminds us that everybody has problems - even if we can only see our impending demise.

To be honest, there is plenty of food for thought here. A word is enough for the wise as the play talks to us about chasing all the things that will not give us fulfilment or anchor our relationships.

The play deals with the decimation of our self worth in a relationship due to a drought in communication, the reality of advanced years and the fear of being (and dying) alone.

From the author, @sarahsimmonds1, we have a thoughtful and humorous insight into the world of menopause and sickness, fear and hope, anger and the determination to change the narrative. It's a brilliant piece by a skilled writer who is just beginning to scratch the surface of a talent that should take the creative arts by storm.