DEDICATION: To my Brothers, global fraternity of wisdom, my Teachers, my Dear Mother, and my children from other fathers all over the world.
Trees and flowers planted round Chilembo Heights residence have each a name, and a story to tell. The Acacia Lisebo Maria tree is Dear Mother’s life metaphor. Her deep loyalty and commitment to her friends I have yet to fathom. She loves her enemies. Over time, she ever actively seeks to bring them closer to her, if not under her wings. Ever benevolent to the enemies and their offspring, if and when they die she will contribute to seeing to it that they are buried with dignity and honour. Amazing Grace.
Forced to close a protracted intense, mutually irreconcilable conflict on certain crucial matters of principle, the great royal prince, his highness doctor professor Mdadakumbakumba Kumdada threw in a verbal salvo, “Simon, I know who you are. I know where you come from. I know whom you talk to. I know about you more than you think you know yourself. I can finish you off anytime I want!”
Simon, “Believe me, Sir, I happen to know very well who I am, and where I come from. I am son of a poor immigrant labourer from Zambia. Well, in Norway, everybody knows everything about everybody who is a good, law-abiding citizen in the country. And, let me remind you, kind Sir, that you have threatened me on more than one occasion before”
Mdadakumbakumba Kumdada, “Young man, I don’t make empty threats. I am a man of action!”
Such was the line crossed. And, symbolically, I drew my sword. In another time, another space, I would have, without a blink, done the lightening fast Kill Bill Yakuza boardroom meeting slash on the man. I am Musashi disciple.
The side of the line on which I am, and I live; on which I Am That I Am on a daily basis, is bright and merry, and so full of love. On this side, I am a poet, I am a singer, I am a dancer; I am the buffoon. I am a freedom fighter, freedom maker, freedom protector and defender. I praise freedom everyday on this side. This is the side For All The girls I’ve Loved Before, all the girls I love; for all the girls I shall love tomorrow. I dream on this side, I create on this side. I thrive on this side of the line I live because it is the home and source of knowledge. Knowledge is power. Power is energy in motion. Energy is potential for work. Motion is movement. Movement is work. Work is change. Change is flexibility, adaptability. Adaptability is growth and development, which lead to progress. Progress translates into abundance, foundation for peace, it being the ultimate goal of life. If I Should Die Tonight, it shall be on this side. I have chosen I shall not die in the dark, in misery and pain. That is how I can be most ruthless, unkind, and unforgiving to any negative force that unfairly, and unjustifiably, crosses the line from the other side to destroy what I have, and know, of the good life of love and peace, rationality and philosophy.
On the other side of the line, where darkness, misery, and pain prevail is found the likes of Mr Mdadakumbakumba Kumdada. Myopic, hopelessly ignorant types to whom enlightenment cannot form even a fragment of their visions in the dark. Driven by perpetual greed and power drunkenness, their existence is all about control and domination of others. Using age-old human behaviour manipulation tools of religions and gods, as well as “our culture”, their chief aim and preoccupation are to bend people under the yokes of respect and honour. Because they do not know anything about themselves as unique individuals in universal energy creation manifestation, it being beyond their intellectual and spiritual comprehension faculties, the concept of personal integrity is far beyond their perceptive potential. These kinds of people are the greatest liars, the worst tricksters at any point in history. The reality is that it is the fear of the unknown, as conjured up by their own underdeveloped cognitive capabilities, which they project outwards to the world as they rule with fear, terror, murder and genocide against those who stand against them; all in the name of holy ghosts and gods, prophets, ancestral spirits, and the like. It is those Diasporants, like Mr Mdadakumbakumba Kumdada, fitting the description just given, who fail to establish new lives of success, happiness and peace in their respective Diaspora host lands, with particular reference to those of the opulent, industrialized, First World of the West, including Norway, where, all things remaining equal, light, knowledge, and human dignity are valued above much else.
In happier glory and glamour times gone by, yes the unforgettable Yuppie days of the 1980-90s, at the Baron Night Club in Oslo, over the biggest bottles of Moët & Chandon I had ever seen, the great royal prince, his highness doctor professor Mdadakumbakumba Kumdada, had given me a friendly warning, and a subtle threat, “Let me tell you something you don’t know about me. I have defied sure deaths several times before, after having been forced to dig my own grave on two or three occasions. You see, from my training in our secret tribal leadership training according to our culture, I am indifferent to death and life. If I am alive I am alive, if I am dead I am dead. But I kill; I do not get killed. If you try to kill me, I will kill you first. Old as I am, I can move at the speed of a Black Mamba snake if and when I have to, anytime. Don’t ever try me! Norway is a terrible country for us Black people to be. You won’t see it immediately, but racism here makes apartheid in South Africa seem like a child’s game. However, don’t worry, I will protect you. I will support you any time. But you must respect me. There is no other foreigner who can do for you what I can. I am a man of honour. I keep my word. That’s how we Royals are. All I want is respect, nothing more, or less. Cheers to a happy future together in Norway, my young, brilliant friend!”
We cheersed on and on through the night. Girls came and went; and came with us in the end. Even in my drunken stupor, with the girls doing things to me many men can only dream of, I couldn’t let go of the notion that respect is earned.
Respect is a two-way traffic, beginning and ending with the self, in a continuous self-referral loop. Awareness of self-respect is conditional upon knowing oneself for the human being one is, in a never-ending interactive and mutual interdependence relationship with other social beings. This, defining our roles, duties, responsibilities, and obligations to the wellbeing of, and service to others, for the furtherance of harmonious and peaceful co-existence in, and for, overall societal growth and development. Respect is about the values we stand for, and represent, both as individuals, and members of different human/ social collectives. Mutual respect among people of all sorts of varying backgrounds meeting in specific spaces and settings, as well as times, is attainable only when their divergent values are, or can be, compatible. Given the vast disparities of people, as conditioned by the divergent nature of origins, all-round growth and development in distinctive parts of the earth with variable natural conditions and natural phenomena occurrences, compatibility of human values does not often come on its own, it is worked at.
Learning, acquiring knowledge and understanding, including internalizing new ideas and views of the world as the Diaspora keeps on growing in thousands by the day in our times of huge, extremely brutal religious and sovereignty/ civil wars across the globe, are vital components of the key to mutual respect of variable people values in the world. It is the failure, I shall assert, to synthesize new uplifting, life-supporting paradigms from acquired, if at all, new knowledge which is the cause of lack of success for many a Diasporant the world over, thereby playing into the hands of the inhuman religious fundamentalists’ indiscriminate orgy of violence and necropower pursuits in jihadist-action-hotspots everywhere, for example. Xenophobic violence experienced in South Africa in recent times has not miraculously come, and does not feed, of itself. No one thrives, and humanity has little to gain from those who have chosen to live on the other side of the line in which darkness, misery, awe, jealousy, prejudice, malice, and pain reign. Enlightenment is the answer to “… Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds …”
Ignorance state of existence is a personal choice. You want to die and feel free in life beyond death, do so alone in your own world of myths and superstition. Racists in South Africa and elsewhere, take heed as well.
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
February 27, 2015
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,100 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 52 trips to carry that many people.
HOME AT LAST! Part 15
RACIST SCUMBAGS – WHITE SOUTH AFRICAN RACISTS ONLY THEMSELVES TO THANK
My 27 year old exile-born nephew doesn’t know, doesn’t care shit about apartheid. What he knows and cares all shit about is that he is a raw South African to the bone, and this South Africa is his land through and through. If it says anybody anything, he is a proud son of a proud Sotho-Zulu man who in his life did take a bullet or two as an active MK veteran fighting for the freedom of our land in our time. In 2076, my nephew will be 89 years old. To his great-grandchildren and their progeny, apartheid will be but a fragment of history you go into GugulazaTI+ (TrillionInfinityPlus, as Google South Africa will be called then) to find out what it was.
A little over 10 years ago I am on a Welkom-Durban road trip with him, my nephew. While looking for an address in Bethlehem, we stop a White boy about his age. “Hey, ya,” my nephew calls out confidently, “do you know where such and such address is?” Looking at me, the White boy replies politely, and points, “Over there, Sir!”
“Dankie, broer!” says my nephew with a broad smile. “Cheers, guys!” the White boy happily waves good-bye as he cycles away. I (have) never said anything of the dialogue to my nephew. But I briefly got overcame by emotion, and thought quietly, “Wow, how times have changed!”
In 2076, I’ll be 116 years old; probably long dead and gone like apartheid. I hope I shall be remembered for better things than those crimes to humanity apartheid committed against my generation of the people of South Africa.
In 2076, the last of the surviving of the 1976 Soweto uprising generation will be 100 years old. Going by realities of today, by 2096, the entire Soweto 1976 generation will all have transcended this earth. Welcome to the birth of the real New South Africa, pulsating with the colours of the rainbow in the hearts and minds of the people for real. I envisage a 20-year-old South African youth of 2096 as a supra liberated, supra intelligent, mix-masala of human races in one. Tribes? What’s that? In 2096, South Africa is the real and living cradle of brotherhood of man. What A Wonderful World home at last. Racism is dead. 102 years after it was unconstitutionalized in the motherland.
In 2060, a million new South African children shall be born. In 2076, these children shall rise to start a process of merciless brutal ridding of the land of the last vestiges of thick-headed, ever visionless, racist South African Whites. Much in the same fashion as the like-minded insular Islamic Fundamentalist Jihadists with their extremely naïve and unrealistic ambition of world domination, South African White racists are fighting an anti-Black South African war they can never, and they will never win. South Africa will never revert to White Supremacist Apartheid rule. Never. This will be confirmed in 2096 when South African White racists will all have been wiped off the face of the earth. The isolation, exclusion, and at worst, elimination of this scum of people will be like never known in human history before. And for this, South African White racists will only have themselves to thank.
For goodness’ sake, South Africa belongs to all who live in it, to the extent that certain conditions are fulfilled, as stipulated by the law of the land, in accordance with promulgations of the national constitution.
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
February 06, 2015
HOME AT LAST! Part 12 CITIZEN OF THE WORLD? MY FOOT!
SPECIAL NOTE: Link takes us to an article written by a frustrated young lady in Oslo, Norway, who feels she has no place to call home anywhere. Although my writing below may sound harsh, it is not personal. I am writing on the subject in general terms at her inspiration, from my, of course, highly subjective point of view. Believe me, I feel her pain, anger, and sorrow. I am a citizen of the world is another one of those idealistic statements of which poetry and literature are inspired. I am a citizen of the world as an emotional statement reeks of arrogance, ignorance, naiveté, self-centredness, patronization, and imperialistic tendencies. You don’t go calling yourself citizen of the world simply because you don’t feel at home in your country of birth, and/ or your host country if you are an exile in the Diaspora. It’s not up to you to declare yourself a world citizen, as if the world owes you any favours, to begin with. We belong to the world, and not the world to us. You were born to the world. When you die, the world will still be here. Should the world perish, you’ll have no space in the universe, at least not in the way you know yourself today. What you want to do is, when you die, whichever way that happens, you leave this world a better place than you found it at birth. Therefore, it is the world’s prerogative only to declare you its citizen, and that not just because you are not happy with the conditions of your existence anywhere; but because you have done, you do, some kind of deed/ -s beneficial to humanity. There is no free ride to world citizenship. It is not a human right to be I am a citizen of the world just because, from your privileged position somewhere in the 1st World, you can bad-punk-style spit down upon your own, pack your rucksack, and travel the world abusing your economic, or pussy power among the less fortunate of the world because “life is so cheap out there. And, it’s ever so giving to be among poor people. They have nothing, never know where their next meal will come from. And yet they are ever so happy, hospitable, generous, and kind” Jeeezzuz, you don’t do service to humanity through enjoying living high in poverty-ridden slums and villages in the 3rd World like you were some cheap royalty member. Do something to permanently alleviate, or eliminate poverty, then, you might just qualify for the I am a citizen of the world stamp of approval. In the Diaspora, owing to the common phenomenon of paranoia towards strangers, life can be full of scepticism, lack of trust, isolation, exclusion, and, at worst, hate, as well as discrimination with all that entails. That’s just the way it is. It is not the duty and responsibility of the world to show and prove to the Diaspora that you are a normal, decent human being on the look out for things everyone else wants and needs. It is your own duty and responsibility to work to show that you deserve the love, respect, recognition, appreciation, admiration, support, and protection you so much crave for. Naturally. If you cannot get these in your home base, it cannot be easy for the world to give you, all for nothing. The world may want to make you its citizen if you take it on with the life-supporting and uplifting values and deeds you will have nurtured in/ from your home base, first and foremost. When you are a citizen of the world, you don’t go out in the world looking for love and recognition; you go out in the world to give and promote these qualities, demanding, claiming nothing in return. Just do it. You are greater than you realize. In spontaneous appreciation, then, the world will declare you its genuine citizen. But that does not mean that you necessarily have free access to all corners of the world; that does not mean that the entire world will see you in the same light. You will never be able to come banging on, and slamming any first door in the world and say, “Hello, I’m home!” It doesn’t quite work that way. Be smart, therefore. Define your world according to what values you stand for, and live accordingly. It all begins and ends with you. The moment you turn your back on your own land of birth, fleeing from injustices and oppression, as well as other gross Human Rights abuses, the bonds between your own people and yourself will never be the same again. You may be fighting a common course, but you go away, and they stay behind. You will mutually miss one another painfully. Growing up further apart with time, everyone inevitably changes. Things that held the fragile bonds together fall apart. The only thing that remains constant is common heritage. As time goes, years apart turning into decades, everyone grows up each in their unique directions. History takes different meanings to everyone. No one is ever the same again. So, after so many decades, you come back home, the land of your birth. Everybody knows, has heard of, your name, but nobody knows you anymore. Actually, nobody cares. You are not one of them, stranger in your own land. YOU have changed so much: You look different, you walk different, you talk different talk, you smell different, you eat different, you dress different, you think different, you don’t belong here, stranger. Who are you, really? What are you doing here? What do you want? Nobody wants to touch you, nobody wants to be near you; you are so very special these days. Nobody can, nobody wants to, relate to you. You thought paranoia and uncalled for hostilities were bad out there in the Diaspora, but when you experience them in the land of your birth, the land whose freedom you fought for, you know you are thoroughly crushed. Who am I, really? You ask. Where do I belong, really? You ask. Okay, I don’t feel wanted in the Diaspora, I don’t feel welcome back in the land of my birth. But what the heck, they can all go to hell, I am a citizen of the world; my home is the world now! You reason. Alas, it’s not that simple. The real world is hard by default. It’s beautiful at the core, though. You just have to know how to get there. Acknowledged, and aspirant, citizens of the world the world over don’t spend and waste time whining about how unfair life is towards them. Citizens of the world proper take the world by the horns and deal with it in science laboratories, as well as libraries of the world in an endless strive to find answers to ever challenging questions of how to make this a better world to live for all, at all levels of human endeavour. I am a citizen of the world isn’t simply a state of mind, a question of attitude. It’s about how huge personal sacrifices you make for causes meant to promote human and life integrity through struggles for, for example, freedom, which (may) have global implications and impact. Many a freedom fighter of the world has had prisons, torture chambers, and, at worst, death, as their laboratories and libraries in seeking to give meanings to the value of human dignity in freedom, justice, and abundance for all in the world. When their work is done, or still continuing, and the global significance of that is established, the world has a way of showing acknowledgement, respect, and encouragement to keep doing what you do. The latter is done through various awards of variable significances and magnitudes across the world, both at the institutional and private levels. You become I am a citizen of the world by first and foremost winning the hearts of citizens of your home base. Be a source of inspiration and hope locally first. Promote, and be a living proof of love, freedom, peace, faith, and creativity. Everyone, the world, loves a good story, anytime. If your story, the story of the good things you do for humanity, transcends your borders, and precedes you, then you are not too far from living the I am a citizen of the world reality, much to the extent that the entire free world becomes curious of, and is ever so keen to meet you in person, or even merely symbols of your good deeds, because you may not be physically enough for the world. Thus, you may become a globetrotter, a Super Star in whom, in whose works, the world can find meaningful answers to some of the most pertinent questions in/ of life. I am a citizen of the world is a function of action in relation to how, and what, you contribute to the betterment of the human condition, given your talents, knowledge and skills, tastes and preferences, wherever you are in the world, in service to humanity. I am a citizen of the world is also about “Ask not what the world can do for you, but what you can do for the world”. Humility. So, President Chilembo, what are you in this regard, then? Ahh, who? ME? Ohh, ja, ahh…, I am an Ethnic Norwegian citizen of the world with Zambian roots from South Africa! ;-) Simon Chilembo Riebeeckstad Welkom South Africa Tel.: +27 717 454 115 December 15, 2014