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๐—จ๐—š๐—”๐—ก๐——๐—” ๐—ž๐—œ๐—Ÿ๐—Ÿ๐—ฆ ๐—Ÿ๐—š๐—•๐—ง๐—ค+ ๐—ฃ๐—˜๐—ข๐—ฃ๐—Ÿ๐—˜

๐—˜๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ถ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐—น๐—น๐˜† ๐—œ๐—ฟ๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ถ๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ฎ๐—น ๐—•๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ผ๐˜๐—ฟ๐˜†

Uganda has recently legalized extreme persecution of LGBTQ+ people. People of non-heterosexual dispositions now make love with state sanctioned murder threat looming over their heads. The Ugandan state seeks to eradicate LGBTQ+ people from the face of the earth. This is a flagrant, futile, outdated, time and resources wasting exercise rooted in ignorance in the face of the most enlightened time in the history of humanity, the 21st Century. Pathetic.

Enlightened, liberated, forward-looking, resourceful, valuable people of the world know that sexuality isnโ€™t a matter of choice but an inherent state of being. As but an extension of the infinite totality of being human in its as infinite expressive forms, sexuality is exuded and played out from the core of a personโ€™s essence as encoded in the personโ€™s unique genetic makeup.

Sexuality is permanent. Sexuality is not acquired. Sexuality is not a disease; it cannot be cured, neither medically nor magically, nor by any other outlandish method. If God made man in her own image, God is then the queenpin of sexuality. Use of Godโ€™s prayers to ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ต homosexuals is tantamount to asking God to annihilate herself. Herein lies invalidation of the existence of an omnibenevolent, all-loving God. Amen!

Sexuality is not an attitude; it is not a lifestyle. Sexuality is what it is: it is it โ€“ a constant. It is the unidirectional, one-track express train towards the orgasmic peak experience that, in a perfect world, those in love aspire to achieve as a consummation of their oneness in love in all the possible constellations of love matchings humans are capable of as to their diverse intrinsic sexual orientations. 

Every personโ€™s unique genetic makeup is in turn an extrapolation of the human genome. The human genome is the unalterable existential thread that binds humanity together in its diversity of physical and physiological attributes. Thatโ€™s how you can love who you love; and, where applicable, you can reproduce with whom you will, regardless of race, status, colour, or creed.

Donโ€™t come to me with the ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ, ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏโ€™๐˜ต ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜จ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ด crap talk. Of course, these animals are of incompatible breeds. They arenโ€™t genetically wired to be sexually stimulative of one another, to begin with.

Depending on the ever-abundant factors affecting the lives of the sources and quality of human reproductive material, i.e., sperms and eggs, the outcome from fertilization to birth (assuming a problem-free pregnancy, and survival of the birthing agony), a child, can be anything of manifestations of being human. For example, the child can, amongst a myriad of other possibilities, be 

  1. Wholesome and healthy
  2. ๐˜๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ญ, and/ sickly. I.e., have physical, and physiological incongruities reflected in all kinds and extents of physical handicaps and mental or cognitive incapacities, if not inadequacies  
  3. Distinctly male or female as to the construction of relevant reproductive organs; hormonally steered
  4. ๐˜”๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ. I.e., intersex  
  5. Reproductive or barren upon attainment of sexual reproduction maturity age
  6. Sexually active or celibate   
  7. Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, and much more in the human sexuality expression spectrum.     

It ought to be a no-brainer that LGBTQ+ people are human just like everyone else. They have the right to live; just like everyone else. They have feelings; just like everyone else.

From an ethico-moral standpoint, show me an immoral LGBTQ+ person, Iโ€™ll show many more amoral heterosexuals. By the numbers, heterosexuals are by far responsible for the worst human-to-human and human-to-nature atrocities ever.

Iโ€™m convinced that the world would be a better place for all were people of the world allowed to love mutually consensually who they love of their psychosocial maturity equals. That means that, bearing high the flag of ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ-๐˜ช๐˜ด-๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ, ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ-๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ-๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ-๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ, you donโ€™t go around sexually abusing children. You donโ€™t go around taking sexual advantage of the weak and vulnerable. You donโ€™t go around defiling animals.

AVAAZ E-MAIL: UGANDAN LGBTQ+ LAMENT

On June 4, 2023, I received an e-mail from the global campaign network, Avaaz. This was on behalf of an anonymized Ugandan LGBTQ+ rights activist asking for moral and financial support. Iโ€™ll print the e-mail in full:

ALERT: BRUTAL ANTI-GAY LAW SIGNED — FINAL CALL TO HELP!

WARNING: This email has descriptions of sexual violence that may be upsetting.

Dear Avaaz members,

I write from Uganda, where a vicious ‘anti-gay’ law was just signed into existence — and gay people are being hunted like animals. 

Days ago, neighbours castrated a transgender person with a kitchen knife. We couldn’t go to the police as we’d be arrested — and had to search for a friendly doctor, as most wouldn’t help us.

We’re being fired from work, rejected by family, evicted, beaten, rapedโ€ฆ and worse.

I’m appealing for your support. Please.

This could be our last call for help. Under this new law, everything we do, including sending this email and raising funds, will soon become illegal. But right now, before the law is implemented, there’s still a narrow window when LGBTQ+ groups can receive support — and your donation could help save lives.

You’d fund safe houses where people can hide, along with emergency medical care, legal support, and trauma counselling. We urgently need more safe houses, as we constantly have to run when angry mobs arrive.

We’re being flooded with frantic calls for help, but without more funds we can only help a tiny fraction of people. I’m heartbroken, and don’t know where else to turn.

And it’s all because of who and how we love. In the face of unimaginable cruelty and violence, please stand up for our right to Love. Donate what you can now:

I’LL DONATE KR30
I’LL DONATE KR50
I’LL DONATE KR90
I’LL DONATE KR180
I’LL DONATE KR360
OTHER AMOUNT

The new law effectively makes it impossible to exist as an LGBTQ+ person in Uganda.

I could get a life sentence for kissing my partner, and be executed for repeated homosexual ‘offences’. Renting to gay people is now illegal — and I could serve 20 years in jail just for sending this email.

They call us “ungodly” filth, but we aren’t the ones inflicting unimaginable cruelty on already vulnerable people. I know girls who’ve been raped by family members to ‘cure’ their ‘lesbian disease’.

That’s why safe houses are so critically important– providing a place of sanctuary in a country burning with hatred. With your help, we could:

  • Fund dozens of new safe houses and emergency shelters across the country;
  • Provide emergency health care and legal support for those who’ve been arrested — and meals for people in jail; 
  • Help fund the development of a new legal case to challenge the law in court; and
  • Power emergency response campaigns, like this one, to defend communities facing discrimination, assault, and war around the world. 

Every penny raised will support LGBTQ+ people in Uganda, and power Avaaz’s emergency response work around the world. By donating, you wonโ€™t just be helping in Uganda — youโ€™ll be ensuring this crucial capacity is maintained for others like me, facing unimaginable terror.

Gay, straight, lesbian, transgender — we all just want to live and love in peace. I don’t know when that day will come, but it is not today, and our fight for love must go on. Wherever you are in the world, please stand with us. Donate what you can now.

I’ve been part of the Avaaz community for years. I’ve seen the difference it makes when we come together fast for those in need. Now it’s my community being attacked — me and my people need this movement’s help.

With hope and the deepest of gratitude,

****** and the whole team at Avaaz

Note: As the anti-gay law has just been signed, the consequences for an email like this could be deadly — in many ways, they already are. For that reason, names have been removed and photos are anonymous.

PS. This might be your first donation to our movement ever. But what a first donation! Did you know that Avaaz relies entirely on small donations from members like you? That’s why we’re fully independent, nimble and effective. Join the over 1 million people who’ve donated to make Avaaz a real force for good in the world.
END

๐——๐—ข๐—˜๐—ฆ ๐—”๐—ก๐—ง๐—œ-๐—Ÿ๐—š๐—•๐—ง๐—ค+ ๐—›๐—”๐—ฉ๐—˜ ๐—”๐—ก๐—ฌ ๐—˜๐—–๐—ข๐—ก๐—ข๐— ๐—œ๐—– ๐—ฅ๐—”๐—ง๐—œ๐—ข๐—ก๐—”๐—Ÿ๐—˜?

Now, I ask a rhetorical but serious question with profound socio-economic analysis implications:

Can Uganda, or any other tyrannical anti-LGBTQ+ country, for that matter, provide statistics showing any value-added number to the countryโ€™s annual GDP accruing from the persecution of LGBTQ+ people in all its extents?

Well, in Norway, for example, one of the countryโ€™s most important conglomerates is Orkla. โ€œOrkla ASA is a Norwegian conglomerate operating in the Nordic region, Eastern Europe, Asia and the US. At present, Orkla operates in the branded consumer goods, aluminium solutions and financial investment sectors. Orkla ASA is listed on the Oslo Stock Exchange and its head office is in Oslo, Norway. As of 31 December 2021, Orkla had 21,423 employees. The Group’s turnover in 2021 totalled NOK 50.4 billion,โ€ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orkla_ASA 

Orklaโ€™s Majority Shareholder is Stein Erik Hagen, 66 years old. As at June 25, 2023, heโ€™s worth US$2.1 billion, making him the 1468th wealthiest man in the world; number 6 in Norway as at February 24, 2023. Stein Erik Hagen is gay. Culturally sophisticated, he is a renowned international art collector, and philanthropist.     

Norwayโ€™s GDP in 2021 was US$482.17 billion. Population number stood at 5.4 million then. Thatโ€™s against Ugandaโ€™s population of 45.8 million people, and GDP of only US$40.5 billion in the same time period.

Norwayโ€™s highest standard of living in the world is powered by people in all walks of life, including, in all national production, service, and leadership strata. Norwegian LGBTQ+ people are/ have been, amongst others, Government Ministers, Bishops of the Church of Norway, and many more in the commanding hights of the economy. Much as it is a generational global trend, the Norwegian arts and culture industries are teeming with LGBTQ+ people. I have yet to see Norway come even anywhere near to going under. In the meantime, the country just keeps on growing on and on as a world economic and geopolitics force.

The biggest brands in the global fashion, design, and cosmetics industries are a trove of some of the biggest creative talents in the world, some of the most influential of whom are LGBTQ+ people living with pride. Their enterprises are global economic giants to reckon with; creating hundreds of thousands of jobs across the world, and paying billions of dollars of value-added GDP revenues in various countries.  One of the greatest flesh and bone human brains to ever walk on our planet earth is Leonardo Da Vinci. His phenomenal interdisciplinary work in the sciences, mathematics, art, and philosophy permeates all aspects of our modern life. The man was gay.

So, Uganda and your fellow tyrannical anti-LGBTQ+ countries in the world, what are your value-added numbers to your respective countriesโ€™ annual GDPs accruing from the persecution of LGBTQ+ people in all its extents?

It is globally demonstrable that persecution of LGBTQ+ people deprives society of vital workforce resources across the board. LGBTQ+ persecution is clearly counterintuitive to equitable national economic growth; which is even more glaring in poor countries like Uganda.

The like-minded oil-rich, religio-conservative Gulf states have managed to harness their ultra-wealth to overrun all local and international resistance and critic against their atrocious anti-LGBTQ+ practices. However, these societies could attain even higher standards of living and more credible and durable geopolitics influence had they allowed their citizens to unleash their full human potential, free to mutually love who they love of their contemporaries.  

And in Ukraine, the countryโ€™s LGBTQ+ people are together with their fellow in-action citizens fighting side-by-side against Putinโ€™s imperialistic invasion of their country. Because they, indeed, are people like any heterosexual, LGBTQ+s are also capable of killing other beings. Violence and murder arenโ€™t the prerogative of mad heterosexuals with potentially dubious sexualhabits camouflaged in their irrational hatred for LGBTQ+โ€™s. Like in all Human Rights struggles, when push comes to shove and the oppressed finally pick up weapons of war and fight back, the latter wins. Wake up, bigots, and smell the coffee!

On June 16, 2023, Presidents Cyril Ramaphosa and Hakainde Hichilema, of South Africa and Zambia respectively, led an African peace mission to Ukraine and Russia. Iโ€™ll leave discussion of the merits or demerits of this trip for another time.

Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni chickened out at the last minute because of the escalation of Putinโ€™s attacks on Kiev. Putin even launched another attack on Kiev whilst the African delegation was in town, defiantly breaching and giving a blatant โ€™๐˜ง โ€™ to International Relations protocols.

The aggressor was simply making a point that he could have the ๐˜ด๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด African delegation sent back to their respective countries in body bags, if he wanted to. The Africans recovered from the shock, talked with Zelensky, and went on to check on Putin the following day, anyway; wagging their little tails like poodles. Progressive South Africans look at Ramaphosa with dismay. Thatโ€™s Mzansi for you fo sho; myopic, parochial, outdated-communistsโ€™ bootlickers.

Real men persevere even in the most ominous of circumstances. Real men may be as gay as those fighting in the Ukraine army against the Russian invasion. A warrior is a warrior regardless of who of sexual maturity equal and sexual orientation they love.

Real men and women know that once they become a head of state, death comes with the territory; they automatically assume tyrannical or constitutional prerogatives to terminate or redeem life, according to prevailing circumstances. They also embrace the reality that they can under variable circumstances get killed on the job on any day.

How much of a ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ  is LGBTQ+ loathing Museveni, who got scared โ€˜sโ€™less out of thechances of getting caught up and dying in the Putin-made killing fields in Ukraine, I wonder? With no guts to face up to his national sovereignty leadership equals, he goes after soft targets, the LGBTQ+ community of Uganda. Coward. Loser.     

South Africa legalized same sex marriage in 2006. Although there are still unofficial, yet potent obstacles here and there, the LGBTQ+ community thrives in the country. LGBTQ+ personalities feature prominently in all spheres of South African econo-socio-politico life. And their influence grows by the day. After 9 (oโ€™clock, pm), hetero-married South African gay men exit their closets for their true loves outside.

Despite its governance challenges, South Africa remains a haven for Africans running away from their dysfunctional, war-torn anti-LGBTQ+ countries, including Uganda itself. South Africa remains an African economic powerhouse providing sustainable entrepreneurial opportunities for African immigrants from the latter countries, Afro-xenophobia violence issues notwithstanding. 

Whatโ€™s funny about Uganda in this context is that I first came across the words ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜น๐˜ถ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜บ and ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜น๐˜ถ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ฎ in an article in Drum Magazine in 1972/3. Fifty years ago, in Welkom, my hometown in South Africa!

If I recall, the article was about how Ugandan men would meet up at local Sunday afternoon football matches in their villages. Some men would, then, pair up and disappear into the nearby bushes to engage in ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜น๐˜ถ๐˜ข๐˜ญ activities, the article reported. It was a given that many a girl would go down with their boyfriends as well. Of course. ย 

At age 12/13 then, this thing about homosexuality and homosexualism confused me a bit. I then ventured to ask an older friend to explain for me. Buti-Gabriel was in โ€˜JCโ€™/ Grade 10 at that time; he sure would know these things, I reasoned. He told me that homosexualism is when men sleep together like we sleep with our women.  

โ€œThey do it slightly different, but thatโ€™s basically it: having sex together man-to-man,โ€ Buti-Gabriel said. He further reminded me that we already knew how lonely men living in the then โ€˜Men Onlyโ€™ hostels in Welkomโ€™s gold mines had sex with one another in the absence of women. Aha, oh, yes, of course!

These womanless men came from the entire Southern African hinterland, as well as remote-lying, extremely poverty-stricken parts of South Africa. The guy said this in as matter-of-factly, and as ever cool as he was as a person and older brother that I had grown to be very fond of. Iโ€™ve had a laid-back attitude towards homosexualism since then.

A life-long ๐˜ โ€™๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ, Buti-Gabriel taught me how to be a gentleman to girls, and subsequently to women in my grown-up age. We remained great friends until he died in 2016. I miss him dearly. MHSRIEP!

Prior to the intriguing homosexuality and homosexualism mystery in Uganda as Iโ€™ve related above, there had already been an especially edifying association imprinted in my mind about the country. One of the earliest hymns that I recall singing at my childhood school between 1965-69, St. Rose (Catholic) Primary School, Peka, Lesotho, was about the Martyrs of Uganda: ๐˜ˆ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข ๐˜œ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข / โ€œLetโ€™s Praise Ugandansโ€.

Brutal Idi Aminโ€™s entry on the Ugandan presidential scene, 1971 to 1979, shook the heavenly picture I had held in my head for the country of the great martyrs. I recalled the latter, forty-five of them, being held in the highest reverence in the Lesotho-South African Catholic Church community that I knew then.   

Yoweri Museveni has been in power since 1986. He has taken the Ugandan murderous persecution plague to the next level.        

As regards Zambia, the LGBTQ+ plus struggle is still hard, yes. However, Iโ€™ll make a sweeping statement and postulate that woke, Zambian middle-class youth growing up and grooving in the Lusaka party scene in the late 1970s to the late 1980s (I havenโ€™t lived in Lusaka since 1988) will attest to the existence of a flourishing gay subculture in the city and the environs at that time. I canโ€™t imagine it having been any different in the Copperbelt urban centres such as Kitwe and Ndola.

I also canโ€™t imagine the Zambian gay scene as having diminished with the years. We had public secret gays as schoolmates and teachers, as relatives, including work colleagues.

I had just recently graduated from the University of Zambia in 1986 when, in one of my then business hustles in Lusaka, I got to strike a South Africa-Zambia commercial goods import deal with a super wealthy, fine-looking gentleman who, I thought, could probably leave an Afro-American movie star kissing his shoe heels. I got highly rewarded for the deal upon its closure.

After a business meeting that went late into the night one day, this man, we call him Mr Dukes, invited me for a snack and drink at his home in one of Lusakaโ€™s finest neighbourhoods. His house so overwhelmed me with its beauty and raw manifestation of opulence that my immediate reaction was to make the comment, โ€œAll the hottest girls of Lusaka would be in trouble if I had a house like this one, Mr Dukes!โ€
He curtly replied, โ€œHot girls are the least of my troubles, Mr Chilembo!โ€

Serving efficiently prepared bacon-and-cheese sandwiches and tea, he stated, โ€œI live alone here. I donโ€™t need women in my life.โ€
We ate in silence. Outside of business talks, I wouldnโ€™t know how to start any meaningful personal conversations with Mr Dukes after that incident.

Nearly three decades would go before a mutual acquaintance would reveal to me that Mr Dukes was gay, and that he had had a harem of young men that he sexually exploited at will. Inviting me to his house may have been a trap, but, sadly for the man, my mind was on the things Iโ€™d do with girls in his awesome house. Besides, he admired me for my Karate prowess and the local rock stardom I had already begun to enjoy in Lusaka. He really couldnโ€™t impose himself on me. I learned that Mr Dukes died in yet another one of those gruesome road traffic accidents involving huge, luxury cars driven at high speeds on Zambian pothole-laden roads twenty years ago.    

My feeling is that Zambia will soon legalize Gay Rights protection in the country. The country is on a path to economic recovery at a relatively better pace by far as compared to, say, Zimbabwe, where gays are โ€œworse than dogs and pigsโ€, according to projecting Robert Mugabe, the late and former dictatorial president.  

The point I want to make about South Africa (land of my birth) and Zambia (my fatherland) vis-ร -vis the LGBTQ+ condition is that tolerance liberates positive energy in society. Tolerance inspires and sustains creativity. Tolerance unleashes productive empowerment across the board in society. This is a crucial element of overall national development and growth. The case of Norway as Iโ€™ve outlined above is a perfect example of how this works. And, Norway is but one of the LGBTQ+ tolerant countries with the highest standards of living in the world.

The fear that the LGBTQ+s want to take over the world is unwarranted. Unlike religion, no one is converted to LGBTQ+ existence. You are either gay, lesbian, bisexual, etc., or not. If conditions become such that more and more LGBTQ+ people come out as time goes on, what the heck? Thatโ€™s the way of the world.      

LGBTQ+ people of Uganda and the world, stand up and fight for your rights. You are not alone. We all suffer together. Freedom doesnโ€™t come cheap. Absolutely ALL Africans ought to know this fact.

So, LGBTQ+ contradicts African cultural values? In what way is murder an African cultural values defence mechanism, then? Well, with effective brutality untold, Arab and, subsequently European invaders, applied relentless murder as a tool for imperial-colonialism imposition and sustenance. African has been left generationally culturally and cognitively raped and screwed.

Killing oneโ€™s own people for them exercising expressions of an emotion as fundamental of being human as can be, love, does not make post-colonial Africa any better than the primitive former imperial-colonial masters.

As the human genome carrying entities, Africans are essentially not different from any other people on earth. In varying degrees according to location on the planet, and exposures to multitudes of natural and artificial variants that enable humanity to adapt or die in given situations, Africans face the same existential challenges and joys as anybody else. Therefore, the spectrum of sexual orientations manifestations amongst Europeans or Asians is not in any way divergent from that found amongst Africans or people of any other racial classification, the latter being a curse to humanity.

Therefore, insisting upon the narrative that LGBTQ+ism is un-African is as banal as it is downright lacking in cognitive development maturity. Unadulterated stupidity oblivious to the ever-growing abundance of contemporary human knowledge database. Human love sentiment is truth constant in time and space; much as is the human need for liberty, equality, and solidarity. That underpinning the universal concept of Human Rights.  

Whereas the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was drafted without any African representation, the universality of Human Rights principles validity cannot exclude Africa. The assumption being that Africans are part of humanity. Much of Africa still under the Euro colonial yoke in 1948, no African country had the requisite political national sovereignty to be considered as worthy of participation in the process then. Independent Africa would eventually come out with its AFRCAN CHARTER ON HUMAN AND PEOPLES RIGHTS in subsequent years; adopted in 1981, and ratified in 1986.

๐—จ๐—ก๐—œ๐—ฉ๐—˜๐—ฅ๐—ฆ๐—”๐—Ÿ ๐——๐—˜๐—–๐—Ÿ๐—”๐—ฅ๐—”๐—ง๐—œ๐—ข๐—ก ๐—ข๐—™ ๐—›๐—จ๐— ๐—”๐—ก ๐—ฅ๐—œ๐—š๐—›๐—ง๐—ฆ

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) is a milestone document in the history of human rights. Drafted by representatives with different legal and cultural backgrounds from all regions of the world, the Declaration was proclaimed by the United Nations General Assembly in Paris on 10 December 1948 (General Assembly resolution 217 A) as a common standard of achievements for all peoples and all nations. It sets out, for the first time, fundamental human rights to be universally protected and it has been translated into over 500 languages. The UDHR is widely recognized as having inspired, and paved the way for, the adoption of more than seventy human rights treaties, applied today on a permanent basis at global and regional levels (all containing references to it in their preambles). 

ARTICLE 1 of the UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS reads as follows:

All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.

ARTICLE 19 of AFRCAN CHARTER ON HUMAN AND PEOPLES RIGHTS agrees by saying, โ€œAll peoples shall be equal; they shall enjoy the same respect and shall have the same rights. Nothing shall justify the domination of a people by another.โ€

ARTICLE 3 of the UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS says:

Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.

ARTICLE 20 of AFRCAN CHARTER ON HUMAN AND PEOPLES RIGHTS agrees. It says, โ€œAll peoples shall have the right to existence. They shall have the unquestionable and inalienable right to self-determination. They shall freely determine their political status and shall pursue their economic and social development according to the policy they have freely chosen.โ€

ARTICLE 5 of THE UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS SAYS:

No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.

ARTICLE 24 of AFRCAN CHARTER ON HUMAN AND PEOPLES RIGHTS adds that โ€œAll peoples shall have the right to a general satisfactory environment favourable to their development.โ€ 

ARTICLE 6

Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law.

ARTICLE 7

All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination.

ARTICLE 9

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile.

ARTICLE 12

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.

ARTICLE 19

Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.

ARTICLE 27

  1. Everyone has the right freely to participate in the cultural life of the community, to enjoy the arts and to share in scientific advancement and its benefits.

๐—ข๐—ฆ๐—Ÿ๐—ข ๐—ฃ๐—ฅ๐—œ๐——๐—˜ ๐—ฃ๐—”๐—ฅ๐—”๐——๐—˜ 2023

Osloโ€™s PRIDE PARADE 2023 was held on Saturday, July 01. It was a massive, happy, incident-free event attended by a record 90 000+ people; a rare event putting the beauty and love of Osloโ€™s human diversity in world display without fear or favour. Norwayโ€™s national television transmitted the event live. The huge turnout was defiant of the possible terror attack threat similar to that carried out outside the London Pub in central Oslo, June 25, 2022.

Itโ€™s Monday, July 03, 2023 as I write this section of the essay. Iโ€™ll bet my last penny that the USA risks yet another day of shooting massacres across the nation on July the 4th than Norway shall any day soon endure satanic fires for being pro-LGBTQ+s right to exist happy and free in the country.

On Monday night, June 07, 2010, I reluctantly agreed to join a diverse group of some friends of mine for a beer at the London Pub, Oslo. I have never been into partying on weekdays, a fact my close friends know well. However, on this one night, my friends applied all the tools of the charm to get me to come along with them. We had to celebrate the final exams success of Greg, a younger, super talented jazz singer from Cape Town, South Africa. Ok.

All went well at the pub until I noticed that time was fast approaching midnight. I really had to go. A long working day was awaiting me ahead.
โ€œOh, no, no, no, please, Simon, just wait another few minutes and we shall all leave this place together as a group and then go our separate ways home,โ€ cried Beya.
โ€œArgh, man, ok! You guys are impossible!โ€ yours truly.

In the ensuing laughter amidst group amicable comments/ inside jokes like, โ€œBlack Jew Simon just thinks money, money, money. He doesnโ€™t have a social life!โ€, the DJ suddenly plays full blast Stevie Wonderโ€™s iconic Happy Birthday song. Before I knew it, I had been yanked onto the dance floor, and this group of between 20-30 men were singing along and dancing all around me. These men were all gay. That was the most wonderful surprise and kick-off moment for the subsequent series of parties marking my 50th birthday, which fell on June 08, 2010. A truly moving experience that I cherish to this day.

After the dance, a Champagne bottle was popped. For a moment I found myself sitting alone, as if my friends had made a quick dash and left me without any good-byes. Argh, just as well, I thought. I was set to go away, anyway. Suddenly, an unfamiliar, exuberantly perfumed, finely attired, beautiful young man sits next to me on the right, and makes as if to want to snuggle with me. As I turn to look at him, he looks me deep in the eyes and says, โ€œBut, Simon, you ARE hetero, arenโ€™t you?โ€
โ€œYes, I am,โ€ yours truly.

The disappointment wave emanating from the boy was palpable. As he apologetically and cautiously pulled away from me, a surge of paternal care cut through me, and the flirt in me woke up. So, I reached out, gently grabbed his hands, and pecked his left cheek, saying, โ€œYes, I am heterosexual, but I love you for that!โ€

In Norwegian, โ€œ๐˜‹๐˜ถ, ๐˜š๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ, ๐˜ฅ๐˜ถ ๐˜Œ๐˜™ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ, ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต?โ€
โ€œ๐˜‘๐˜ฐ, ๐˜ซ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ. ๐˜”๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ซ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ด๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต!โ€ yours truly/ โ€œโ€ฆ But I love you all the same!โ€

After my words and moves, I have never seen anybody waltzing away from me onto a dance floor in as glamorous and as joyful mood as that young man. Numerous eyes were on him. I hoped heโ€™d find someone to love him then. That made me happy. I rose and quietly left the pub with the thought that, had that situation involved a girl, and I was in the mood, Iโ€™d have gotten laid that night.

The terror attack tragedy outside the London Pub last year upset me at least as much as it did anybody else. Oslo gay groove house London Pub is a viable business entity. Public records show that it was registered in 2007. Itโ€™s 2022 revenue was NOK 35 million, over twice as much as the previous year. During the said financial year, there were twenty-six employees. With outsourcing of security and other auxiliary services, thereโ€™ll be even more people earning a living working here.

The gay joint, London Pub is 50-50 owned by two gentlemen, Avni Fetisi and Selassie Desta G E G. I have reason to believe that the latter is of Ethiopian origin. And, last time I checked, Ethiopia was an African country. Just saying. Whilst living in South Africa as a child sometime in the late 1960s, my father once reminded a๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜บ overbearing White car salesman that โ€œMy money is NOT black!โ€

Money knows no gender, no sexuality, no skin colour. Money just loves good business. If money makers are fair, theyโ€™ll pay their workers well regardless of non-professional considerations such as gender, sexuality, race, and all. Hopefully.

Violence against LGBTQ+ people and institutions will never succeed in ridding the world of people who love outside the narrow heterosexual stream. Launching surprise attacks on unarmed, peaceful people is a sign of sheer cowardice; idiocy supreme.

Real men fight men of their own sizes in real, bloody battles. At any one time, there are scores of wars played out in the world for trigger happy fools to go and play their silly, fake-manhood games. Prigozjin and his Wagner Group has room for soldiers of fortune he can use to feed the Putin-created meat grinder in Ukraine, for ๐˜™๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ฏ & ๐˜Š๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฑ๐˜ด on South African oligarchโ€™ State Capture braai coal flames. Check out Sudan too, if not the perennial DRC bloodbath.

It boggles my mind that a so-called man can run away from genocidal conditions in his country of origin – Iran, Pakistan, and others; find protection in Norway. Thrive. Grow up into a big and supposedly strong man. Is, or gets unhappy about the liberal, globally uplifting Norwegian way of life. Then decides to play the devilโ€™s executor role and kill innocent people in/ of Norway; shooting them as if they were dummy targets in a shooting range.

There is no courage in fleeing from the fight for liberty in the land of your birth. There is no honour in killing your innocent, new landsmen only seeking to love who they love in the free world.

From the point of view of harnessing and growing a productive manpower resources base vis-ร -vis attainment of sustainable national developmental goals, there can be no bright economic future for Uganda in its use of state resources to persecute the LGBTQ+ community in the country.

As Uganda is not alone in this counter-progress tendency in Africa, I really do not see the continent coming out of the Africa Screwed. Africa Raped quagmire I mention in one of my earlier talks.

Africaโ€™s future is doomed. All for leaders caught up in the ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ด syndrome. The techno-socio-economic future of the world is shaped by forward-looking, problem-solving leaders. These apply contemporary tools available and relevant today, addressing needs for a successful push into the future of ever so rapidly changing and growing understanding of the workings of nature.

As I use the expression, the ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ด syndrome refers to the inclination towards reliance on knowledge that may have prevailed once upon a time when society was high and mighty during, say, the Stone Age. Useless.

When progressive countries of the world are investing heavily inArtificial Intelligence (AI) Research and Development (R&D), Uganda is applying scarce resources in the hunt for Whoโ€™s sleeping with who? At the same time Dead Aid keeps flowing into the country. Morbid.  

๐—œ๐—ก ๐—–๐—ข๐—ก๐—–๐—Ÿ๐—จ๐—ฆ๐—œ๐—ข๐—ก

Iโ€™ll happily engage with anybody that reaches out on this topic. Do write your comments below. But I am not in any way interested in any crap talk about God and religion. ๐˜‘๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ป๐˜ป๐˜ถ๐˜ป๐˜ป๐˜ป, God is the most divisive, most lethal of manโ€™s responsibility escapism creations. Religion is a weapon of death in the name of God. Religious texts are murder prescriptions.

Neither am I interested in “๐˜๐˜ต’๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜ค๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ” reasoning. The moment I hear expressions like, โ€œ๐˜ˆ๐˜ง๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ค๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜น๐˜ถ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜บ!โ€ I see insular, static cultures oblivious to, or dismissive of local or global societal paradigm shifts with time. These insular, static cultures inhibit growth of curious, innovative minds. The latter being capable of, and ever willing to explore new frontiers of knowledge in efforts to find solutions to existential challenges facing society on all fronts.

Spearheaded by the ruling elites, parochial, conservative African cultures kill liberated human beingsโ€™ creative potential. Myths intended to create perpetual fear and uncertainty in peopleโ€™s lives are applied as effective oppressive tools, much like the holy scriptures in organized religions.

Bring me science of consistent, universally applicable, infinitely testable principles that effectively contribute to mankindโ€™s efforts in the never-ending pursuit of bettering the quality of life for all on earth. I have no time for Conspiracy Theories bs-talk. Show me numbers. Thatโ€™s all that interests me in this topic here.

This here is my voice. The voice of an independent, free spirit with no fear for the unknown, or peddlers of untruths and negative endeavours to the detriment of society. I speak for myself, reflecting the workings of my one-man intellectual and creative powerhouse.

I represent no particular interest groups anywhere. Neither do I speak on behalf of any special influential individual. I neither receive nor solicit any monies from any individual or groups, as a motivation to be their mouthpiece or speak favourably about them. Nobody owns me. No one owns my brains. I owe nobody no favours.

My take on the LGBTQ+ rights violations in Uganda and elsewhere is founded on universal Human Rights tenets. I neither hate nor disrespect the people of Uganda. My reaction is against appalling, out-of-tune-with-the-times, power abusive, oppressive, leadership. If the latter is fronted by Yoweri Museveni in Uganda, the heat shall be on him by default; it comes with the territory. Iโ€™ll lash out at any regressive national leader, be they Zuma, Mugabe, Putin, Trump, or whoever.

Purely from a Human Rights standpoint, I feel very, very strongly about the LGBTQ+ right to exist case. If I could have just one cause to fight for in my life, this would be it. As a matter of a deep-felt principle, persecution of LGBTQ+ people the world over touches the core of my injustices-against-humanity sensitivities in a profound way. This is a struggle for freedom. Any struggle for freedom is my struggle.  

My pro-LGBTQ+ right to life is humanist, and is as solid as a rock. Those of my so-called relatives, friends, and other social relations across the board wishing to cancel me for my views on the LGBTQ+ question and other ludicrously controversial issues such as a womanโ€™s rightto access abortion as she deems fit according to her life circumstances, may do so now. The time has come for hypocrites and cowards to stay clear. Good riddance.

It is okay to have differences of opinions on anything. In fact, it is absolutely natural that people all over the world will have certain commonly shared instinctually broadly and/ or narrowly defined proclivities according to their respective individual neuroendocrine systemsโ€™ wirings. The latter being a function of both inheritance and infinite, known, and unknown immediate and distant environmental factors of short or lasting terms.

But it is not okay to hate. It is not okay to, by all means possible, actively work to exterminate people labelled as ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต and ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด by those individuals or collectives wielding societal power. 

For as long as I can breathe, Iโ€™ll speak and write for justice and fairness. Iโ€™ll stand for the weak and vulnerable. Amongst other motivations, I do this for our children for them to not be afraid of the future, no matter how weird and unconventional they might be viewed to be, and treated as adults. I have this vision that, given the superior knowledge and courage we impart in our children today, theirs will be a better world for all tomorrow.

The MAGA movement bans and burns books, curtails liberatory education for enlightenment provision for American children today. I shudder to think about how primitive the future world would be would MAGA ever dominate fully the American society. That would also spell hell on earth for American LGBTQ+s. And mine will be one of the loudest resistance voices. You ainโ€™t heard nothing yet. The biggest global freedom storms are yet to come. To the oppressed, the persecuted of the world: ๐–ณ๐–ง๐–ค ๐–ฅ๐–ด๐–ณ๐–ด๐–ฑ๐–ค ๐–จ๐–ฒ ๐–ก๐–ฑ๐–จ๐–ฆ๐–ง๐–ณ. Believe me.    

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
July 03, 2023    



๐–๐‡๐€๐“ ๐ˆ๐’ ๐€๐‘๐“?

๐€๐Œ๐ˆ๐ƒ๐’๐“ ๐๐„๐€๐”๐“๐ˆ๐…๐”๐‹ ๐“๐‡๐ˆ๐๐†๐’

DISCLAIMER

I do not have any academic nor professional training in art. My articulation of what art is a function of my laymanโ€™s instinctual appreciation of things beautiful against the ugly; both in the figurative and abstract manifestations as my senses perceive it in any given situation and space, at any given time. All I know is how to think and write, and write and think. Art is what I feel. If I feel it, I can think it. If I think it, I can write it. Writing is my art, my artistic expression. Writing is what I do; all attributable to my academic training.   

WORKPLACE OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS

People do from time to time visit museums of all kinds for all kinds of recreational, educational, and research reasons. I work at Norwayโ€™s Nasjonalmuseet. The institution has proved to be an awesome literary creativeโ€™s wet dream for me as an author and poet. I get at least one goosebumps moment each day I am at work. Tens of thousands of works of art are on display throughout the eighty-nine exhibition spaces at the museum. In all their widely variable expressive forms, these artworks move me in a way that ever fills me with love and joy like I have never experienced before. Working here is a privilege I am much grateful for.

At different points in about all the exhibition spaces in the museum, there are rest stations comprising benches upon extensions of which are placed, amongst other items, wooden playing cards. The cards have various quizzes and games for the guests to have a go at as they sit and rest. I, together with Ole, a fine but ever condescending colleague young enough to be my grandson, happened to have been engaged in a discussion about various aspects of the museum when we approached one such station. Ole then unexpectedly reached out and randomly pulled out a card from the bench extension. It turned out to be a quiz card with the question: โ€˜What is Art?โ€™; creating a gotcha moment that I saw Ole revelling in.

Talking about Oleโ€™s gotcha moment, this was yet another one of those moments in which a person of European extraction comes to me with the pre-conditioned notion that Black people are not cultivated enough to appreciate the finer aspects of European culture. Anyhow, my immediate response, in this case, was, โ€œArt is the capturing of an experiential moment in time and space in order to, perhaps, tell a story about that experience in the future. This capture can be in any form or medium according to the proclivities and talents of the artist.โ€
Ole, โ€œI hear you. But you will have to elaborate more on all that you have just said!โ€ ย 
Seeing as we had to attend to each of our respective duties at work then, I replied, โ€œI shall write an essay for you, then. Deal?โ€
โ€œDeal!โ€

My definition of art shall be both conceptual and functional. Conceptually, I know art when I perceive it. I do not have to be told. I do not have to be instructed. I know art when my senses register it. Regardless of the representational form, the sentimental response that I get from experiencing any manifestation of art that I consider as beautiful is a constant. Conversely, an unattractive, unpleasant artistic form as I experience it emotionally affects me in the same way relevant to it irrespective of the form or the representational style.

Whenever I read a storybook (or even write one) that I enjoy, my breathing rate slows down, and the total bodily relaxation I get gives me a wonderful warm feeling all over; I get goosebumps, and my palms get warmer and moist. This kind of feeling brings me immense joy. The dreamy state it gets me into sends me into a fantasy world of all things possible. If I had been, for one reason or another, going through hard times, this state brings hope home; it fills me with a sweet sense of freedom. In this state, I am invincible. This is my subjective domain for defining what beautiful art is for me as my perceptive senses โ€“ eyes, ears, skin, tongue, nose, intuition โ€“ register it, feed my hormonal system (feel-good hormones), and the latter instructing my nervous system to induce my being to act accordingly. Pure joy.

Whilst recognizing it for what it is, art that is repugnant to me is exactly that. If it makes me cringe, if it casts a shadow of pessimism over me, if it fills me with negative thoughts and associations, if it gives me a cold sweat, then it is bad art for me. There are times when I can see beauty in bad, ugly art, though. I think about the hands, or some other body parts, that created the work. Every hand shall tell its story according to its ownerโ€™s neuro-hormonal wiring and physical capabilities. One manโ€™s apparent gory art may be anotherโ€™s depiction of heaven. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Functionally, art is a conveyor of messages, a storyteller; a courier of generational narratives in humanityโ€™s dances with nature and itself over time. Art can be an instrument of change. Art can repair the once broken. Art can inspire hope, faith, trust, and love. To the extent that art is a personal expression, art may speak for its creator. Art creators have the potential to make or break society. Ask God, manโ€™s most divisive, master-of-carnage creation. God may have created man instead, her most complex work of art. The outcome is not any better.

Art is identity. Identity may be deception obscured in art. From the outset, art may be true by intent and purpose. But when human perception and interpretation of reality are as polychotomous as there are so many people on earth, art shall be true or fallacious as to the perceptive state and cognitive capacity of the observer. Therein lies the mystique, the intrigue of art. Who am I? I am a man in love with art.

Art is some powerful stuff. Art is a human creative potential deserving to be handled with tender, loving care. At its best, art is an instrument of peace; art has the potential to stimulate reflection on the human condition. We rise, we fall; art captures all that. Art is beauty. Without beauty, life is not worth living.

Beauty moves humanity forward and higher on the scale of qualitative and quantitative improvements in life. It is not for nothing that nations of the world, interest organizations of all sorts and sizes, wealthy individuals, and many others invest heavily in the promotion, conservation, preservation, and storage of some of our most impactful artworks over the epochs into the future. Art immortalizes human experience.

Introducing our beloved Rock & Roll Norwegian Royal Family. Long live The King!

SIMON CHILEMBO  
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +92525032
April 07, 2023

RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!

Order, read, and be inspired by my latest and 9th book, 2nd poetry volume, MACHONA GRIT: Onslaught on Hate

๐€๐…๐‘๐ˆ๐‚๐€ ๐’๐‚๐‘๐„๐–๐„๐ƒ. ๐€๐…๐‘๐ˆ๐‚๐€ ๐‘๐€๐๐„๐ƒ.

๐—ก๐—ข ๐—›๐—ข๐— ๐—˜ ๐—™๐—ข๐—ฅ ๐—•๐—ฅ๐—œ๐—š๐—›๐—ง ๐— ๐—˜๐—ก

๐€๐‹๐Ž๐๐„ ๐ˆ๐ ๐๐Ž๐‘๐–๐€๐˜, ๐’๐‡๐€๐‹๐‹ ๐ˆ ๐‘๐„๐“๐”๐‘๐ ๐“๐Ž ๐€๐…๐‘๐ˆ๐‚๐€ ๐Ž๐‘ ๐๐Ž๐“ ๐”๐๐Ž๐ ๐Œ๐˜ ๐ˆ๐Œ๐๐„๐๐ƒ๐ˆ๐๐† ๐‘๐„๐“๐ˆ๐‘๐„๐Œ๐„๐๐“ ๐ˆ๐ ๐Ÿ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ•?

Question asked by confidants, cynics, and the disdainful alike. To the extent that the current existential reality of the world, and that of myself as an individual remain unimproved, Iโ€™ll stay in Norway. I couldnโ€™t live in Africa. Suffering from chronic post-colonialism Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Africa is a place just too messed up for me. Iโ€™ve lost all hope for the future of Africa as a progressive, equal geopolitics partner.

Acknowledging the presence of exceptional individual African minds; also, the potential of imparting good citizenry awareness to children and youth, my hope is not really totally lost. Addressing the attendant transgenerational trauma with a view to healing it is a long parallel process.

Were I to be a national political leader in Africa, Iโ€™d become a tyrant overnight as Iโ€™d be brutal against the corrupt, incompetent, and insolent ignoramuses. I rather prefer working at the grass-roots.  

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
09 September, 2022

๐—จ๐—ฆ๐—ฆ๐—ฅ ๐—ข๐—ฅ ๐—ช๐—›๐—˜๐—ฅ๐—˜? โ€“ ๐—จ๐—ž๐—ฅ๐—”๐—œ๐—ก๐—˜ ๐—ช๐—”๐—ฅ ๐Ÿฎ๐Ÿฌ๐Ÿฎ๐Ÿฎ

๐—˜๐˜…๐—ถ๐—น๐—ฒ ๐—˜๐—ฑ๐˜‚๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ถ๐—ผ๐—ป ๐—ข๐—ฝ๐˜๐—ถ๐—ผ๐—ป๐˜€: ๐—ฌ๐—ผ๐˜‚๐˜๐—ต ๐—ค๐˜‚๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐˜†

During my stay in Lusaka, Zambia, 1975-88, some of my most memorable social interactions involved meeting older and veteran, mostly male South African freedom fighters. These were ANC members. Then in their mid-thirties and above, some of them had travelled the world. They would have been in pursuit of various goals, which included:

  • Mobilization of international support for the South African liberation struggle efforts
  • Military training
  • Education

About all the veterans exhibited the abhorrent traits of arrogance, tribalism, bullying, cantankerousness, outright stupidity, and violence endemic of South African kassie/ township life. Hard partying involving huge consumptions of alcohol and drugs and all that it entails were an integral part of the deal. Needless to say. Shebeen culture carried with into exile. Not that Zambians were any less of party animals.

These veterans were people of all sorts, with all sorts of familial backgrounds. They, or we, as individuals or as special-interests sub-groups were motivated and threaded together by the collective higher dream of the attainment of the liberation of South Africa from Apartheid oppression.

Much as they loved to party by default, the majority of these people took their liberation struggle work very, very seriously. They were highly knowledgeable in the various fields of Social and Natural Sciences, including Mathematics. Some had had guerrilla operations experiences within South Africa in the 1960s; also, Mozambique and Zimbabwe in conjunction with fellow freedom fighters in those countries. Others had participated in major international wars, such as the Vietnam war, and in Latin America. These were hard people.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2016

There were three distinct individuals with whom I shared intense mutual dislike for one another. Each in their own ways reminded me of some older guys and grown-up men that were generally not nice people back in my kassie, Thabong, Welkom. These horrible guys hated especially the ever vocal and visible little boys like myself then. It didnโ€™t help my situation being son of an envied foreign man from Zambia. I had already been in Zambia for several years when I heard that, on separate occasions, five of the horrible guys got stabbed to death by younger boys on the streets. Good riddance. For the obnoxious people these men were, their souls deserve neither rest nor peace wherever they may be in after-deathland.

Regarding the three older exiles that didnโ€™t like me very much in Lusaka, I imagine that a mortal confrontation would have ensued at some point had we been in South Africa then. The likely murdered wouldnโ€™t have been me.

Zambiaโ€™s relatively laid-back culture had a way of dampening our wild South African township streaks. Otherwise, I got along fine with everyone; particularly those that found me โ€œinteresting to talk big struggle issues toโ€; their words, not mine.

My favourite was Comrade Mjaykes. He was Commander for a unit of younger, recently arrived immediate post-1976 Soweto student uprising exiles. Overriding objective here was to debrief the traumatized youth with various available and relevant medical and therapeutic methods. Intense and continuous conscientization political education was an unavoidable part of the package. And this was the fun part for me. Much of my fundamental geopolitics principles understanding was founded here.

Contrary to many a senior veteran, on the outset, Comrade Mjaykes was an unassuming personality. But he was one the most highly trained and educated around, both militarily and academically. He trained a lot, often alone late at night. He was very fit. And he read a lot too. Of his few personal possessions other than his books, he treasured a satellite radio that he had bought on one of his travels abroad. Commanding English, French, German, Russian, Spanish, and Swahili languages, the super veteran used the radio to listen to current affairs programs from all corners of the world. He was a well-informed man.

Being an exemplary leader with superior oratory skills, Comrade Mjaykes was a complete warrior in my eyes. An enduring source of inspiration that I last saw in 1981. Sadly, he was one of the earliest victims of the scourge of HIV/AIDS pandemic that began to ravage southern Africa and the rest of the world from the 1980s onwards. Comrade Mjaykes died in the newly liberated Rainbow Nation, South Africa, in December, 1994. No doubt, his soul is resting in eternal power. I canโ€™t help but often wonder as to what he would have thought of the South Africa of today.

Acknowledging my Karate prowess already in 1977/ 78, Comrade Mjaykes said to me one day, โ€œMuch as I know youโ€™d make a much better soldier than all these young comrades here, Iโ€™d rather you went to school first. You have the kind of brains there is a shortage of in our political leadership structures, see? We should be able to organize for you a scholarship for studies abroad. Iโ€™ll talk to your parents about this.โ€

            โ€œThat would be nice, thank you! You know, my fatherโ€™s biggest wish for my two siblings and I is that we could go and study overseas. But thatโ€™ll remain a pipedream because he could never afford the costs of an overseas education for us. Life is really hard for our family in Lusaka, as you know well.โ€

โ€œYes, I know! Your father is a good man. He deserves all the help we can afford him in that regard.โ€

            โ€œThank you, Comrade! My parents would be extremely happy and grateful if mzabalazo/ the liberation movement can help.โ€

โ€œIt should work out for sure. But, unfortunately, currently available scholarships for full education up to university level are from Yuseserese/ the USSR (The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics). However, no, I donโ€™t want you to go there even if you could leave tomorrow. My analysis of you and how you think tell me that you obviously are not Yuseserese material.โ€

            โ€œWhy? Howโ€™s that? All I want is to be a doctor. A doctor is a doctor, no? There are Russian doctors at the UTH/ University Teaching Hospital, right?โ€

โ€œCorrect, a doctor is a doctor to the extent that he or she thinks only within the context of being a doctor and nothing else beyond.โ€

            โ€œI donโ€™t understand!โ€

โ€œLet me explain, Sae: you see, being a doctor, or any other modern, academically attained profession for that matter, is but just one of the multitudes of tools available for us to apply in the overall growth and development of society. Youโ€™ll, of course, recall that growth refers to the actual physical expansionary attributes of society; infrastructure, for example. Whereas development refers to the total conceptual and practical work that goes towards visualizing and realizing measurable qualitative and quantitative transformation of society.โ€

            โ€œYes, growth or lack thereof is a function of ideas and tools constituting a societyโ€™s developmental visions as espoused by the incumbent national leadership.โ€

โ€œAbsolutely, Sae. Do remember that the developmental visions are promulgated in national development plans over specific time periods. Your brilliant explanation is further proof that sending you to Yuseserese will be a waste of what I see as one of the most promising of future leadership brains in our soon to be liberated South Africa. You must go to the West. Most of our smart ANC leaders in exile send their children to the West, anyway. Thereโ€™s a good reason for that.โ€ 

In arguing his case, Comrade Mjaykes repeated a summary of standard rhetorical statements I had heard numerous times before:

  • The Soviet Union is a Socialist state.
  • Socialism is a transition state. Socialism puts together all the building blocks leading to Communism attainment.
  • Socialism shall build a strong state designed to enhance optimal economic growth and protection of society and all that guarantees perpetuity of the imminent march to Communism.
  • Communism is the highest state of existential wellbeing attainable for society. Under Communism, classes are non-existent; all are equal with equal access to all resources necessary and available for a life of non-ending abundance for all.
  • The state machinery, i.e. bureaucracy, has the function of managing efficacy of Communism towards the full satisfaction of societal needs. Under Communism, given certain specific skills according to different levels of societal engineering and resources production and distribution administration, all are at the service of society first and foremost and last.
  • Communism has no room for individualism, the basis for societal stratification, or classes creation. When Christianity and other religions talk about heaven, thatโ€™s another language for the perfect Communist state, actually. Only that Communism has no overbearing figures of God as portrayed in religious belief systems.

โ€œThat is the rosy picture of Communism, Sae. The reality is different. Just like the concept of heaven for the religious, Communism is utopian. The march to Communism starts and ends in the already dysfunctional Socialism, really.โ€

            โ€œBut I thought that attainment of the Communist state was more realistic because it was based on the dialectical material world for material human beings without mythical angels and gods in even more farfetched heavens above somewhere in the distant sky.โ€

โ€œCommunism attainment would be more realistic had it not been for Socialismโ€™s killing of the human spirit, Sae.โ€

            โ€œYou are losing me now, Comrade Mjaykes!โ€

โ€œI know that no one here has ever mentioned that last statement to you. I deliberately chose to prematurely take your political education to the next level now. Thatโ€™s only because I really want the best for you and the future liberated, non-Communist South Africa.โ€

            โ€œIf I may say so, you are beginning to sound like a sellout, Comrade Mjaykes. Arenโ€™t you risking condemnation by others should they hear you talking like this to me nowโ€

โ€œNo, my views in this regard are already known to even the highest levels of our command structures. My devotion to the struggle is known; I having been tested on many, many occasions over the years. But because we, the ANC, arenโ€™t hard-core Socialists yet, thereโ€™ still much room allowed to hold principled divergent opinions in the on-going discourse of how to establish a unique, workable developmental model for the future South Africa.โ€

            โ€œI see!โ€

โ€œAnd that is the point, Sae; behind the apparent success of Socialism in the USSR, North Korea, Cuba, and China, to name the most prominent, there are millions of robotized people whose senses of individuality have been broken to the core. Indeed, people may be provided with the best education in the natural and social sciences, producing top doctors, engineers, economists, and many more vocations. But thatโ€™s often as far as it goes.
Thatโ€™s because, through various political indoctrination methods, backed by extremely brutal national security forces trained to think and act as robotically themselves, the ruling elite ensure that the people cease to think independently and critically over existential questions.โ€

โ€œBut Iโ€™ve thus far been made to believe that people in Russia and all these socialist places live happily ever after. Moreover, Russiaโ€™s support of ours and othersโ€™ anti-imperialist struggles were for that the world must unite against capitalismโ€™s exploitative socio-economic relations subjecting us to lasting poverty and subjugation.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s a myth, Sae. The truth is that us South Africans we are just too free-spirited, too wild to tame for Socialism. It goes without saying that Communism isnโ€™t even worth talking about. Our allied South African Communist Party is a good platform for training in polemics and rhetoric more than anything else. Weโ€™ll discuss higher level Capitalism issues another time.โ€

โ€œI must say that this new side of Socialism has shocked me, Comrade Mjaykes.โ€

โ€œYou see, Socialism works for, and constructs linear thinkers; people who cannot think outside the box. People who think only in straight lines and right-angles in fixed operational spaces. Perhaps that may be one of the reasons Russians are superior chess players! I donโ€™t know.โ€

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2021

Itโ€™s at about this time that my interest in chess waned. I dreaded the idea of my brains turning square! Indeed, many a South African liberation struggle veteran is a formidable chess player. If they ruled todayโ€™ South Africa as exceptionally as they mastered chess, the country would probably be in a better place. But political leadership is an infinitely open field presupposing capacity for paradigm specific, or beyond as necessary, multifaceted thinking in problem solving and application of solutions derived thereby.

โ€œYou have on many occasions demonstrated that you are a more independent and well-rounded thinker than your contemporaries here, Sae. I know that thatโ€™s why some of the older comrades here donโ€™t favour you much. They simply hate your guts. Highly educated as they are also, these guys donโ€™t take it kindly when they are pushed out of their intellectual comfort zones, especially by a young comrade like you. They are Soviet educated.
โ€œIโ€™d hate to see you stagnate or degenerate intellectually as you get older. Thatโ€™s why you canโ€™t go to Yuseserese for studies, Sae, you see? One or two young comrades of your calibre have died out there before. Some have had mental breakdowns. It would break my heart to see that happen to you. Although the truth is suppressed in our organization, racism is also rife in the USSR. Encountering racism out there is tantamount to jumping out of the South African Apartheid pan into the Soviet racism fire, if you ask me.โ€

At own private initiative elsewhere, the first scholarship chance I got for an overseas higher education was to Social Democratic capitalist Norway in 1988. I got stuck here. Primarily out of idealism and for love. No regrets. Norway is the richest country in the world. All things considered, life is as good as can be in Norway. Of course, never perfect, never fully satisfactory for everyone, but Norway does deliver for its people.

And the country is a leading Foreign Aid nation. Norwegian Finance Ministers have for years been megastars amongst their global colleagues. No Communism here. The few ardent Norwegian communists around are but fringe individuals or insignificant groupings with inconsequential social change impact, if any at all.

I write books now. I am what they call norsk forfatter. โ€˜Forfatter Simon Chilemboโ€™ sounds ever so cool!  I write without fear or favour, freely following my creative fantasies to wherever they take me. I live happily ever after in an effectively non-Communist state. If Comrade Mjaykes could see me now! All gratitude due.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2017

USSR-Socialist trained South African national leaders across the board fail to get the Rainbow Nation out of the mess theyโ€™ve plunged it in after the fall of Apartheid in 1994. In big geopolitics questions, the USSR yoke is sitting comfortably on South Africaโ€™s neck. Mzansi drowning with a sinking ship that is post-USSR Russia fo sho.

The USSR fall with the Berlin Wall in 1989 give rise to Russia. In essence, Russia is the ghost of the former USSR. Ghosts are no touch of reality. It’s therefore not surprising that, identical to South Africa contra Apartheid’s subsequent collapse five years later, Russia never could rise from the post Berlin Wall shambles. Oligarchs ruthlessly plundered the Russian state coffers, taking corruption to the next level.

Post-1994 South Africa created its own egregious oligarchic class through the State Capture phenomenon. This has shown many a Comrade from humble beginnings becoming millionaires to billionaires overnight. They have acutely incapacitated the South African stateโ€™s ability to optimally deliver the promise of a better life for all in a united, non-racial, non-sexist and democratic republic. The post-1994 South African oligarchic class has given the formally Apartheid state’s corruption colour. The former is living in the past. They have lost sight of the reality that Russia is not the USSR. Dismembering of the USSR is permanent.

In 2022, Russia invades Ukraine with chess moves mentality. Some things never change. It has turned out that Ukraine is not a chess board for Russia to play on as it wishes. Things have changed here. Parochial USSR legacy oblivious to this fact. Just for starters, young men of my age in the late 1970s are dying, falling like sacrificial chess pawns. The rest is a tragic war on a straight line trajectory ending potentially with a nuclear war catastrophe.

World in panic makes noise. USSR legacy ears are plugged. USSR marble eyes see imperial rebirth victory where the odds for survival are impossible to turn around. Meanwhile, Norway gives shelter and protection to Ukraine children and women running away from the ravages of Russiaโ€™s war on their country. No better place to be. Communism allergic. Progressive society as close to heavenly terrestrial opulence as can be.

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
April 23, 2022

PS
The pandemic is still in our midst. Fears and factual untruths havenโ€™t abated. In my 7th book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories, I highlight fallacies red lights and how to identify them. Order the book, read, and be inspired by my philosophical exposition on the matter. It might save yours and your loved ones’ lives.

DISCLAIMER: I neither offer nor suggest any cures or remedies. I promote fearless, independent thought and inclination towards pursuing science-based knowledge in times of, indeed, frightening, life-threatening phenomena in the world.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2020

RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!

๐‹๐”๐๐€๐‘ ๐‚๐‘๐˜๐’๐“๐€๐‹ ๐๐€๐‹๐‹: ๐”๐Š๐‘๐€๐ˆ๐๐„ ๐–๐€๐‘ ๐Ÿ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ

๐“๐ข๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐๐จ๐ข๐ง๐ญ

Looking at
The crystal ball
That was
The full moon
Last night
In the month of April
Revelation is that
If itโ€™s a multiple of
The number six
Year 2022 is
Year of the Beast

On the impending third month
One full moon ahead
Of hot-nutted menโ€™s
Refuse-to-stop war games
Orgies of destruction
Murder and pillage
In Ukraine
The last of
People dying
Dominoes-falling-style
Shall cause
The axis of
Diplomacy
Imperialism
Irrationality
Resistance
Sacrifice
And
Pushed boundaries exhaustion
Tension point
To collapse

Snapping
The blackmail:
๐˜Š๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ท๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆโ€™๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ
The ransom:
๐˜ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต
๐˜๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ด๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ
๐˜ ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต
๐˜™๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ
๐˜ž๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ
๐˜๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ

Nuclear war
Brought to life
For one last time
Duration of which
Weโ€™ll never see
Humanity obliterating itself
From the face of the earth
In an instant

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2021

From the heart of Europe
Stupendous Big Bangs
Excavating the earth
Higher magnitude
Hiroshima-Nagasaki like
Mushroom clouds
Thunder-rolled
Into outer space

Black holes in the universe
Giving our once
Earthly bodies particles
Sanctuary
Reducing us further to
Sub-atomic particles

Heaven to some
Hell to some
Which wonโ€™t really matter
Anyhow

Total humanity decimation
Return inconceivable
Reincarnation ideas pulverized
When weโ€™ll have
Already lived all
There was of both
Heaven and hell
In all forms
In our
Pre-apocalypse earth now
Abound with
Godly crap talks and acts
Everywhere
Wrapped up in
Satanic verses in
Proclaimed holy books
Fools donโ€™t even know
How to read
Upside down
Downside up
๐˜š๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜งรฆ๐˜ฏ

Hear my possible last
Melancholy song now
Those of you
Hooked on legacies
Show them now
Share them now
Enjoy them now

For Godโ€™ sake
We all gonna perish
Shit ainโ€™t gonna mean no shit
In post-nuclear war
Apocalyptic world
Bloody โ€™ell

It is what it is
Worst of humanity
Playing out its ultimate idiocy
To the very end
Obnoxious

Woe betide
Tyrants of the world
Whilst we last
Let us breathe
๐„๐๐ƒ
ยฉSimon Chilembo 17/04-2022

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
April 20, 2022

PS
The pandemic is still in our midst. Fears and factual untruths havenโ€™t abated. In my 7th book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories, I highlight fallacies red lights and how to identify them. Order the book, read, and be inspired by my philosophical exposition on the matter. It might save yours and your loved oneโ€™s lives.
DISCLAIMER: I neither offer nor suggest any cures or remedies. I promote fearless, independent thought and inclination towards pursuing science-based knowledge in times of, indeed, frightening, life-threatening phenomena in the world.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2020

RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!

๐†๐ˆ๐•๐„ ๐Œ๐„ ๐“๐ˆ๐Œ๐„

๐๐ฅ๐š๐œ๐ค ๐„๐ฑ๐œ๐ž๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐ง๐œ๐ž ๐‘๐ž๐ฌ๐ข๐ฅ๐ข๐ž๐ง๐œ๐ž

Please
Give me time
Walking a straight course
Is not
A given for me

Given are
Obstacles
From the first step to the last
Iโ€™ve got sores
Under my feet
I walk
Spiked metal
Carpeted roads
In my time

Iโ€™ve danced through
Landmines in my time
Bombs clapping sounds
In my ears
Donโ€™t stop

Scars on my body
Donโ€™t heal
I eel through
I scale
Razor wire fences
To get anywhere

My muscles are wasted
Iโ€™ve walked through fire
Itโ€™s a wonder
I can move at all

My eardrums hurt
Itโ€™s a wonder
I can hear
Birds sing
My will is intangible
It cannot be isolated
Cannot be broken
I move as I will
I get there
The elements
Give me no easy task
To set my roots in the soil

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022

Hostility
Above and below
The ground is
A given for me

I must fight
All the time
I must fight
Absolutely
For everything
To reach the top of
The mountains
I climb
As a given
To sustain my life
Even just to serve

From a mountain top
When Iโ€™d rather
Rock and roll
Down to home base
In satisfaction
Iโ€™m ever thrust over the edge
To tumble โ€™n roll
Over โ€™n over
In pain

Hitting home base
Body twisted
A bone or two broken
Iโ€™m taken
Back in time
Back in space
More obstacles
To overcome
Another mountain climb
To the top
Where keys to
My well of joy lie waiting

If love
Blanketed the earth
Iโ€™d reach for you
My joy
Every step I take

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2021

Give me time
I cannot breathe at your pace
I carry
Weight of the world
Laden with hate
On my shoulders

I fight bigots
Hating me
For colour of my skin
They demean me
They seek to dehumanize me
Every step I take

They twist my words
Slander me
Project myths that
Colour of my skin
Facades evil in man
I get enemies for free

They muddy my paths
Spill oil over roads I walk
I slide and fall
I get up
Burn the midnight oil
Keep moving on
One step at a time
Against the clockโ€™s
Sixty tick-tock seconds steps a minute
Sixty tick-tock minutes steps an hour
My steps have time tick-tocks
Of their own
As a given
In my precarious existence

Bigots
They seek
To break my spirits
Every step I take
I am indomitable
My spirit terrifies them

They shoot me
I die
They created Jesusโ€™
Resurrection story
To cover their
Confoundment over
My resilience

Give me time
Youโ€™ll see in time
That I really am human too
Everything they can do
I can do better
As a given
I must work
Ten times as hard
Anytime
In my time

There are times
The agony inside
Is unbearable
My head
Wants to explode
At not only
The bigotsโ€™ cruelty
But their horrendous
Outright stupidity

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2021

When reason doesnโ€™t work
When prayer doesnโ€™t work
Because their God is made
In the image of them bigotsโ€™
Collective derangement
I have to stop and cry
From time to time
Please give me time
For my tears to dry

Starting from below zero
With zero privilege
Against these meanest odds
Iโ€™ll rule the world
It ainโ€™t for nothing
Iโ€™m the oldest
Human being on earth

They created Adam
To sideline me
Doesnโ€™t work
Iโ€™m here
As a given
On the eve of
My victory

Itโ€™s beyond hatersโ€™ imagination
But
I shall blanket
The world with love
As a given
Some day soon
Nothing can stop me
Itโ€™s only a matter of time
Brace yourself
My love
๐˜ˆ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช
This Black donโ€™t bend
๐˜ˆ๐˜ช๐˜น๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ป๐˜ฆ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช
This Black donโ€™t crack
๐„๐๐ƒ
ยฉSimon Chilembo 06/04-2022

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
April 13, 2022

PS
The pandemic is still in our midst. Fears and factual untruths haven’t abated. In my 7th book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories, I highlight fallacies red lights and how to identify them. Order the book, read, and be inspired by my philosophical exposition on the matter. It might save yours and your loved one’s lives.
DISCLAIMER: I neither offer nor suggest any cures or remedies. I promote fearless, independent thought and inclination towards pursuing science-based knowledge in times of, indeed, frightening, life-threatening phenomena in the world.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2020

RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!

๐’๐„๐‹๐„๐‚๐“๐ˆ๐•๐„ ๐๐‹๐„๐„๐ƒ๐ˆ๐๐†

๐‘๐š๐œ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ง ๐–๐š๐ซ: ๐“๐ก๐ž ๐”๐ค๐ซ๐š๐ข๐ง๐ž ๐‚๐š๐ฌ๐ž ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐€๐ฆ๐ž๐ซ๐ข๐œ๐š

Abused people
Adaptive people
Admirable people
Adventurous people
Alert people
Amazing people
Ambitious people

Ancient people
Appreciated people
Assertive people
Athletic people
Attractive people
Awesome people

Beautiful people
Blessed people
Blue eyes people
Boisterous people
Bravado people
Brave people
Brazen people
Bright people
Brilliant people

Capitalist people
Change people
Cheated people
Chosen people
Civilized people
Classy people
Clean people
Close to home people
Combative people
Competitive people
Confused people
Conscious people

Conservative people
Considerate people
Co-operative people
Creative people
Credible people
๐˜Š๐˜ณรจ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ข ๐˜ค๐˜ณรจ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ people
Critical people
Cultured people
Curious people

Daring people
Decent people
Demanding people
Democracy people
Deprived people
Deserving people
Desperate people
Determined people
Dignified people
Dominant people

Educated people
Emotive people
English speaking people
Entitled people
Eurasian people
European people
Exemplary people
Exhausted people

Faith people
Family people
Fertile people
First World people
Fleeing people
Flexible people
Free people
Freezing people
Frustrated people

Gifted people
Graceful people
Gracious people
Grateful people

Hard-working people
Hardy people
Heroic people
High tech people
Higher people
Hilarious people
Historic people
Hopeful people
Hungry people

Imperial people
Incredible people
Independent people
Industrious people
Information age people
Informed people
Innovative people
Intelligent people
Intuitive people
Leading people
Liberal people
Liberated people
Liberty people
Life-loving people
Like you and me people
Literate people
Live next-door people
Loveable people
Loyal people
Methodical people
Middle class people
Modern people
Money people
Moving people

Non-Communist people
Non-Marxist people
Non-Socialist people
Normal people

Open people
Oppressed people
Optimistic people
Our people

Palatable people
Party people
Passionate people
Patient people
Powerful people
Productive people
Prolific people
Proud people

Realistic people
Rebellious people
Refugee people
Related people
Religious people
Resilient people
Resourceful people
Responsible people
Revolution people
Robbed people
Robust people

Sacrificial people
Same people
Savvy people
Sensitive people
Separated people
Skilled people
Slavic people
Smart people
Sophisticated people
Sovereign people

Special people
Spirited people
Splendid people
Split up people
Strong people
Strong-willed people
Suffering people
Superb people
Supportive people
Survivor people
Sweet people

Talented people
Tenacious people
Terrific people
Terrified people
Thinking people
Traumatized people
Trendy people

Ukraine people
United people
Upper class people
Urbane people
Visible people
Wanderer people
Warrior people
Wealthy people
Well-off people
Well-read people
Wise people
Wonderful people
Worn out people
White people

Africans
Afro people
Arabs
Asians
Bitches
Black people
Buddhists
Christians
Coloured people
Hindus
Jews
Junkies
Latinos
LGBTQS
Muslims
People of colour
Sikhs
Weirdos

Again
Asking for a friend
Who is better
Who is worse

Who is who
To judge

My friend wants to know
Some more
Should the fascists
Have it their way
Whatโ€™ll happen to
American women
American children
American weak and vulnerable
When the second civil war
Has set
America burning
Whites scrambling for supremacy
Blacks insisting that
Their lives matter
In the inferno

Onlookers denigrating
From behind the southern border wall
America on fire
Burn motherfucker
Burn
Fat lady ainโ€™t gonna sing
Anytime soon

Who whines
๐˜•๐˜บ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ-๐˜ฏ๐˜บ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ now
As in
๐˜”๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ˆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ข ๐˜Ž๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ˆ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ
๐˜‹๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ด๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ๐˜บ ๐˜‘๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ
๐˜’๐˜ฉ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ข-๐˜ฌ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ข
๐˜•๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ-๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ ๐˜—๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ
๐˜๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต
๐˜™๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ฉ๐˜บ๐˜ข-๐˜ณ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ฉ๐˜บ๐˜ข๐˜ข๐˜ขโ€ฆ

Keep God out of this
Itโ€™s about us
๐„๐๐ƒ
ยฉSimon Chilembo 07/03-2022

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
March 09, 2022


๐‡๐Ž๐“-๐๐”๐“๐“๐„๐ƒ ๐Œ๐„๐ ๐€๐†๐€๐ˆ๐๐’๐“ ๐“๐‡๐„ ๐–๐Ž๐‘๐‹๐ƒ

๐†๐จ๐ ๐Ž๐ง ๐‡๐จ๐ฅ๐ข๐๐š๐ฒ

Where is God
When we need him most
One last time
By the look of things

Out-numbered one-to-five
When people work nine-to-five
For salt โ€™n water on the table
One man against the world
Gives no damn about numbers
People are just meat

Fire power pulling his nuts
Below his desk
Is all he cares about
Reminiscent of a man
With brains between the legs
Fucking AIDS of the world
Indiscriminate
Unabashed
He comes
He dies
AIDS lives on
Grows in numbers non-stop
Until humanity is all gone
From this space in the universe

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2021

The one manโ€™s nuts throbbing
Between the legs
He fires his power
His missiles come and come

If numbers count
Itโ€™s not about
Nine-to-five work people
Meat
Perishing
But the one manโ€™s need for survivors
To come lick his nuts
For black gold droplets here
Gold dust there
Bling hither and thither
Over enlarged territorial acreages
That God long shunned

Two thousand years
Of between-the-legs-hot-nutted men
Have worn God out
Heโ€™s away on holiday
In a place beyond heaven and hell
Countless light years away
These mad men
Having long made planet earth
A place called hell anyway

God doesnโ€™t want
To be here
When between-the-legs-hot-nutted men
Bury themselves
In the illusion that
Theyโ€™ll screw the world
Fire missiles
Come and come
And nine-to-five humanity
Meat
Shall die alone
When
Just as between-the-legs-hot-nutted other men
Fire back
Come and come straight on
With five-to-one leverage
Retaliatory aggression

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2020

No stalemate
No second chances this time
When weโ€™re all gonna go
Dead
Done with hell
Done with heaven
Brains
Splattered
On crumbling walls
On tumbling mountains
Fantasy obliterated
Imagination dissipated
End of the world
Done and dusted

This here defies
All that is God
By any standard

One-point-two megatons
Nuclear bomb
Is universally equal
In the world of man
Men hot-nutted or not
Just saying

This here
Men power mongering on steroids
Playing death games
Canโ€™t be Godโ€™s idea of
Being oneโ€™s brotherโ€™s keeper
Nor love thy neighbour gestures

When weโ€™re all
Dead and gone
Disease doesnโ€™t matter anymore
Mine is bigger than yours is no longer a matter

When our bodies are all
Dead and gone
God wonโ€™t have temples any more
When weโ€™re all
Dead and gone
Godโ€™s greatest creationโ€™ll be
History to no one

Godโ€™s eyes
See in the dark
Where numbers can be anything for man
Foresight long showed God that
The carnage of
One man against the worldโ€™s war
Shall smash his eyes
Blind him for life

Pray and pray and pray
And pray again
And pray, pray, pray
Useless
God is deaf
Beyond manโ€™s reach
We are on our own
Now
๐„๐๐ƒ
ยฉSimon Chilembo 22/02-2022

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
February 23, 2022

BOOKS

To Ban or Not to Burn

At eight-to-nine-years of age, 1968-69, I was too young to see the implications of not attending school for two years. My Grade 1 year at St. Rose Primary School, Peka, Lesotho, was a long one. It lasted from age four-and-half, 1965, to six-and-half years old, 1967. I, at instant notice and under dramatic circumstances, had to leave Lesotho in the earlier part of 1969. There was no time to acquire school reports and formalized school transfer documents to enable me to continue with schooling in South Africa. Not that I knew anything about such documents at that time, though. In any case, my expectation had been that Iโ€™d return to my school in Lesotho once the situation had become normal and safe again.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

Towards the end of 1969, I had already begun to discern the bigger social dynamics around me. That applied to both in my home and with regard to the extended family relations, as well as the wider society to the extent that a nine-year-old child can make sense of their world. It hit me like a bomb, therefore, when my parents unexpectedly made it clear to me that schooling in Lesotho was over for my younger brother, Thabo, and I. Weโ€™d resume studies in my motherโ€™s hometown, Thaba Nchu, 210km to the south of my hometown, Welkom. We had been to the former to celebrate Christmas 1969 with my uncle Mosesโ€™ new and young family.

The anger and frustration I felt towards my parents at that time hurt me so much that it felt like I had river stones in my stomach. This feeling of profound disappointment and helplessness would last the entire two years that Thabo and I stayed in Thaba Nchu. That Iโ€™d have a bad relationship with my uncle Mosesโ€™ wife didnโ€™t help matters much. I became a bundle of mental and physical tension. Otherwise a generally happy-go-lucky child up to that point, I became unruly in my uncleโ€™s home.

Understanding Thabo and Iโ€™s plight regarding education access given our background, Mr Justice Mmekwa facilitated Thabo and Iโ€™s resumption of schooling in Thaba Nchu. Eldest son of my uncleโ€™s landlady, โ€˜Masang, he was a respected primary school Principal in a neighbouring town called Tweespruit.  Without this kind manโ€™s help, it would have been extremely difficult to find any school places for us in then Apartheid South Africa. As an independent, non-racial state, Lesotho represented values contrary to those of then anti-Black progress racist Apartheid South Africa.

I remain eternally grateful to Principal Justice Mmekwa for his assistance, support, and inspiration. He was a man of class; ever well-groomed. A fine family man exuding charisma that few of my adult male role models of the time had. Other than the traditional Barolong Chief, and Mr Ngophe the trader in the neighbourhood, the Principal was the only man with a car. The latterโ€™s black Mercedes Benz power machine made my fatherโ€™s then blue Opel Rekord car look like a toy beside the former. No doubt, the man is one of those lasting I wanna be like that when I grow up references in my life. I had already begun to be aware of my predisposition towards being there for the weak and vulnerable in times of need. Principal Mmekwaโ€™s gesture enhanced that attribute in me.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

A fixed image of Principal Mmekwa in my head is that of him majestically stepping out of his car each time he arrived home from work; a rolled newspaper clutched under his left armpit, with a book in the hand. On the right hand he would be carrying the most beautiful leather briefcase Iโ€™ve ever seen. In tweed outfits (never a suit), a Stetson on his head, and a smoking pipe jutting from his mouth, he was a sight to behold. His โ€œDumelang, bana! Hello, children!โ€ baritone voice resonates in my head to this day. His eyes were the suns.

In January, 1970, Thabo and I were well-received by the Principal of the then newly-opened Namanyane Primary School in Selosesha Township. The Principal, whose name Iโ€™ve forgotten, was another affable man. It was advantageous that it turned out that he was homeboy with my mother and uncle Moses from their village, Paradys, about 30km from Thaba Nchu town.

Thabo and Iโ€™s respective class teachers and others were really nice to us. That made the two years at the school very enjoyable for me indeed. Whilst at school, I could forget about the unpleasant atmosphere at home with my aunt. I had already experienced the joy of choral music singing in Lesotho. However, I got the first ever taste of inter-school choral singing competitions at the new school. In my head, it is as if there was singing every day of school during the years 1970-71. The sounds of rehearsals voices of different categories of singing according to age and song vocalization skills still buzz in my head in my moments of meditative inner silence.

I got the first taste of formal competition victory when my choir, the Junior Choir, won the regional schools choral music competition in 1970. The category song was called Mmino wa Pino/ Singing of a Song. It spoke about the universal appeal of music; how it, music, defied all the prevalent artificial discriminatory practices in society. My eyes began to open to Apartheid in a critical way at about this time. My life would never be the same again.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

It is also at this time that I began to consciously think about the big questions of life around hate, love, peace, and all other tendencies reflecting inequities around me. Inspired by the Apollo 11 moon landing in the previous year, I recall one day wondering if it were possible to relocate to another place far, far away from all the evils of mankind on earth.

At the same time, I discovered that whereas I was in Grade 3 that year, 1970, several of my agemates were two to four classes ahead of me. In no time I had figured it out that the situation was due to the fact that I had lost the two school years of 1968-69. The difference would probably had not been that much had I progressed normally from Grade 1 in 1965, I reckoned.

If I ever had a sore moment at Namanyane Primary School in Thaba Nchu, it was the illumination of how much schooling time I had previously foregone due to circumstances beyond my control. The school Principal, my class teacher and some of their colleagues also found it hard to understand how I could have academically stayed that far behind my contemporaries. This enhanced my new sense of bewilderment here. I was actually a brilliant pupil. And, ideas of what I wanted to be when grown up were already crystallizing in my head. I began to wonder some more about whether there didnโ€™t exist another place far, far away where I could get educated quickly to be a doctor without having to bother about the other kids that I felt had had an unfair lead over me. Visions of living in other worlds preoccupied my mind from then on.

Thinking about the moon was not exciting because I had already learned that normal human life was impossible out there. But the moon remained a major point of reference until in my class we began to read stories and answer questions from books. We began to read and write down our answers to the questions set in the books. This was a major leap from verbally answering questions from texts our teacher would have read to us.

I donโ€™t recall any of the stories the teacher ever read to us. But I know that listening to them induced in me a feeling of flying away like a bird during the reading sรฉances. This gave me a special inner peace that detached me from my frustrations with my derailed academic progress. In this state of mind, negative forces around me ceased to matter. The challenge, though, was that the reading sessions were ever so short. Nevertheless, that made me to ever want to look forward to going to school the following day. Truly happy memories.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

We may have read more stories when the time came for us to read our recommended class text book on our own. Thatโ€™s because the first two stories I remember, and got to make a lasting impression on me, were somewhere in the middle of the book. Both in appropriate condensed forms, the first story was about a man whose tragic life led him to unknowingly kill his father, and end up marrying and having four children with his own mother. The second story was about two men in an intense competition to reach the South Pole one before the other.   

My class teacher made it clear that the first story was not for real. It was created a long, long, long time ago by a writer and thinker from an overseas land called Greece. Although it was a story too difficult to discuss thoroughly then, she told us that its idea was that sometimes we cannot escape what destiny had in store for us. It was therefore important to aspire to be as descent a human being as possible, despite the troubles of our world. She went on to say that we were going to read even more books as we grew older and progressed with our education.

โ€œBooks are a safe store of knowledge about who we are; just like banks keep our money safe,โ€ she concluded.

As regards the second story, it was from reality, the teacher enlightened us. The story highlighted the importance of determination towards the achievement of our goals as we grew older. She said that books that tell real life stories teach us about what it takes to attain certain goals. The books help us to learn not to make the same mistakes that the writers shall highlight in their stories.

โ€œReal life story books teach us how to be human in ways we should easily relate to, even if we could never replicate events of the stories as they are narrated in the books,โ€ the teacher said. She went on to say that it was the aim of acting in the bioscope and theatre stages to seek to bring book stories close to life as much as possible. Some of us would be actors when grown up, maybe?

Two years later, Iโ€™d see for the first time a professional theatrical performance: Sikhalo, by the legendary South African playwright, Gibson Kente. This play brought home to me a clearer picture of the Black condition under Apartheid South Africa. I got a better understanding of the monster. The monster had to die, even if many of my people had to die in the process. We could cry and laugh away our troubles through the arts. Education was a crucial weapon in our struggle for freedom. If education was found in books, then Iโ€™d  read and read them all.   

It was one thing to hear the teacherโ€™s philosophical discourse on the stories and the value of books. From reading and understanding the essence of the stories, what happened with me was that my mind for the first time in my life saw the existence of other worlds on earth. I could, perhaps, escape to these new places for my peace of mind. The more I read, the more the world, life, made sense to me, for better and for worse. The more I wanted to explore human nature in order that I might better understand myself and my purpose in life.

The interesting coincidence is that I have now been living in Norway, the land of Roald Amundsen, one of the two South Pole explorers mentioned above, for nearly thirty-four years. Greece was my first encounter with Europe in 1985. Talk about fate!

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

I came to Norway via Zambia, my fatherland. Landing in Zambia in March, 1975, would turn out to be a thirteen yearsโ€™ enduring be careful what you ask for moment. Zambia took me down, took me up, tossed me mid-air in stormy weathers, took me up and up to finally thrust me even farther away to new lands in my pursuit of a suitable place for my peace of mind. Thanks to Zambia, upon my landing in Oslo in August, 1988, I was a mean physical fighting machine, a polished rising international intellectual powerhouse with, of course, a taste for the finer things in life. Zambia gave me tough lessons in how to be a man of the world. Such that, no, landing and eventually living in Norway has never been a culture shock trip for me.

The two years prior to my parents relocating the family to Zambia, 1972-74, presented me with a trove of pubertal-early-teens growing up thrills: consolidation of my sense of identity, winning respect from my peers, earning own cash, rock-and-roll with girls, street survival mentoring from older friends of both sexes, travelling, sport, and much more. At school I was a star by default. The vision of my being a doctor when grown up was becoming more and more real. That as talk about beginning to look for potential bursary/ scholarship sources for me had begun. I got inspired to want to read more and more intensely so as to maintain my top-of-the-class status at school.

Reading then involved a great deal of cramming, especially during examination seasons in June and November/ December every year. For homework assignments, I could in one sitting lasting perhaps an hour, read and memorize all the recommended texts for the day in all the subjects: English, Afrikaans, Maths, History/ Social Studies, General Science, and Bible Studies. That was the most natural thing for me to do at the time. However, it used to baffle me when some of my classmates used to complain about how difficult it was for them to either find time or concentration to read at home. I didnโ€™t know how I could help them; neither was I keen to, really, because competition for academic excellence was very stiff. Only the very best of the best got access to the extremely scarce bursaries/ scholarships provided by various private business entities and rich individuals.

Extra-curricular reading during this time mainly comprised newspapers, various weekly and monthly entertainment magazines and comics. Bible stories of Moses, Samson, Kings David and Solomon captured my imagination in a huge way. So, I read the Bible a lot. Some of the best literature-induced mental travels Iโ€™ve ever had have been during this time. Reflections over the adventures of the mentioned figures have lastingly influenced my view of life.

Moses opened my eyes to the sense of devotion. Samsonโ€™s warrior heart ceases never to give me goose bumps; his wife, Delilahโ€™s betrayal of him may just be one of the reasons Iโ€™ve yet to get hitched. I donโ€™t know. King David and his sonโ€™s lust issues gave me a special perspective about power and sex. And, then, King Solomonโ€™s proverbs in praise of his women paved the way for the lessons of love that Iโ€™d later read about in greater depth in The Perfumed Garden. I learned from the latter book that if I wanted to maximally enjoy physical intimacy with a woman, I must handle her with utmost tenderness, just like when I consume my favourite juicy fruit. This book broadened the mystery of misogyny and violence against women. Beats me.

After over three months on the rails and road, we arrived in Lusaka a tired family unit. The journey had been hard on us on many fronts. Our joy at having finally arrived home turned into acute disillusionment within a matter of days. Longstanding conflicts in my fatherโ€™s family made it difficult for us to bond. Subsequently, at different times and under different circumstances, my parents, my two surviving younger siblings and I would leave Zambia. The youngest sibling, Dintletse, died and was buried in Lusaka in 1983. I came to Norway, whilst the others returned to South Africa.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

Starting with my uncle, Mr OB Chilemboโ€™s private library at home, arrival in Zambia was an introduction to a world of books like I had never seen before. In the home library, I could mentally fly away from bitterness bordering on hate in my family situation then: Iโ€™d find myself following murder investigations in the USA, falling in love with English women in London, fighting in World Wars 1 and 2, investigating human nature as a psychologist, defending criminals in courts all over the world, singing and dancing Jazz on Broadway, playing World Cup football, getting lost in the Sahara, robbing banks in Paris and Rome, escaping from Russian labour camps in Siberia, pretending to be dead in Mao Tse Tungโ€™s Chinaโ€™s rice paddies, hiking across Australia, and much more.

The comfort I derived from reading books was like no other. I donโ€™t quite exactly remember what specific books and other publications I read especially throughout the rest of 1975, when I didnโ€™t attend school. But I know for sure that much of the reading helped me make sense of my reality. That way I could, indeed, find some peace in my inner world.

I found the reading culture in Zambia amazing both in magnitude and diversity. Even Radio Zambia had an African Literature reading hour most working day afternoons, if I recall. Zambians had no culture of displaying their book collections on shelves in living rooms. Iโ€™ve met numerous foreigners who had concluded that Zambians were not well-read for not having showy bookshelves in their houses. Quite the contrary.

Well-off Zambians like my uncle had private libraries, as Iโ€™ve already alluded to above. Otherwise, people valued their book collections so much that they kept them in their bedrooms, or such other private spaces. Others concealed the books in locked, opaque cupboards in their living spaces. Upon entering my uncleโ€™ spacious living and dining area, including a bar, there was almost never a book to see.

Uncle OB has on more than one occasion spoken in awe about how vast a collection of exclusive books two of his contemporaries had in their private libraries. Only selected individuals could enter here. If you didnโ€™t ask, or you didnโ€™t get caught up in a heated debate necessitating available literary referencing, youโ€™d not likely see your Zambian hostโ€™s book collection. Erudite or not, Zambians can be formidable debaters, if not orators, thriving on the pedantic.     

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

With time, some of my paternal cousins of my age took me to the Lusaka City Library. I donโ€™t recall ever reading or borrowing a book from there. But the picture of me walking around and around the library gazing at the books in amazement for what felt like hours on end, day after day, never leaves my mind. I had never seen that many and huge book walls anywhere.

The following year, 1976, I started schooling in Grade 7 at Lusakaโ€™s Olympia Primary School. That a mobile clinic came to the school for pupilsโ€™ periodic medical check-ups and the like wasnโ€™t such a big deal. But the first day a mobile library came over, I was positively shocked beyond words. It soon dawned upon me that, with such ample access to books, it was no wonder that Zambian Black people were not only doctors and nurses, they were pilots, train drivers, army commanders, and all sorts of things Black people of South Africa were not.

Iโ€™d eventually be member of both the British Council and American libraries in Lusaka. From the former, a book on running made the biggest impression on me. Such that when my Karate teacher and life mentor, Professor Stephen Chan, OBE, suggested that we, the then senior-most students at the University of Zambia Karate Club in 1983, take part in the maiden Lusaka Marathon run that year, I had long been mentally ready for it.

From the American library, the one book that made the biggest impression on me was on the freedom of speech concept. I recall its stand that whereas freedom of speech was indeed a fundamental human right, it was important to remember that there are moral and legal constraints as to how far we could say what we will on any subject, to anybody. Freedom of speech is not an entitlement to be malicious to others. In connection with the freedom of speech ideas, the book also touched the subject of truth telling. It argued that truth must be told always, but not necessarily at any cost. If currently telling the truth could cause more harm than good, then it may not be a bad idea to withhold it until conditions are more favourable, if ever.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

And then in 1982-86, the University of Zambia Library became my books haven. Many of us students and the academic staff did our research here. This institution consolidated the intellectual foundation upon which this my new writing career stands.

During the years preceding university studies commencement, I used to have much informal political education talks with a selection of some older South African freedom fighter veterans based in Lusaka in those days.

One of the veterans, Comrade Lerumo, once said to me, โ€œSy, when you analyse any issue, you must always look at it from both opposing sides. When you read in your research, read books, or any other relevant form of written presentation, articulated from opposing perspectives. Do the same when you listen to world news on the radio; listen to everybody, whether you agree with them or not. Thatโ€™s how we become intellectual powerhouses, able to solve problems effectively as they arise because we know how everybody thinks.โ€

Comrade Lerumo went on to say, โ€œThe sad situation is that surprisingly many of our leaders in exile donโ€™t read. If they do read at all, itโ€™ll be a book on Marxism here, Che Guevara there, and Chairman Moa there and there. Theyโ€™ll recite a stanza or two of a Shakespeare and think that they are smart. Tragic!โ€

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2020
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

The UNZA Library provided me with all the books I ever needed for a successful university  studies career. These days I have access to major world libraries in the palms of my hand, at the tips of my fingers. In principle, no one can hide from me a once formally published book. No one can absolutely hinder me from publishing a book, formally or otherwise.

From the outset I write with good intentions. I write with a pure heart, my imperfections notwithstanding. Because Iโ€™m non-cantankerous by propensity, I consciously choose to write non-offensive, uplifting books; upholding principles of freedom of speech and truth telling with responsibility. At the same time, I do not expect that my writings shall be appreciated by all. Iโ€™m not a popularity contests writer. I write as a free spirit without fear or favour, simply practicing what book reading has taught me over the years. Itโ€™s a privilege to have the opportunity to contribute to the growth of humanityโ€™s reading material data base.

Writing books has liberated my soul. The worlds I create with my books instil in me a sense of peace and love beyond words. Each publication of any writing of mine is an attempt to portray the workings of the peace and love that I feel. Although it is for the observer to judge my deeds, inside of me I feel Iโ€™ve become a better person breathing and walking as an author.  Books have outright saved my life. In more ways than one. Plain and simple.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

If we want this our world to be a better place for all, it’s symptomatic of intellectual bankruptcy to ban books that tell and expose truths about transgressions we have historically, and continue to commit over one another. That depending on the balances of power according to race, political orientation, and other artificial human discriminatory categories and practices.                     

Good or bad, truthful or malicious, once a book is written and published, itโ€™ll stand the test of time in numerous formats. Thatโ€™s why we have, amongst others, national libraries and archives. Power is in writing another book to counter or falsify a book that proliferates undesirable messages. Better yet, power is in writing another book to take already existing progressive literature to ever higher levels.

Banning of books prejudicially classified by powers that be is tantamount to running away from the truth, running away from the self. Banning of books is denialism of the existence of oneโ€™s deeds tracks in history. Banning of books fakes presentation of the present as if the present begins and ends in itself. Living the present on fake presuppositions is sure a promise of a future of ignorance and non-sustainable existential premises. As it is, it is evident that a current exercise of banning of books enshrining enlightenment and wisdom is a consequence of forces of ignorance and destruction having had the upper hand in the past, distant and near.

Truth frightens the guilty. Cowards fear for life confrontations of truths about themselves. They shall ban and burn books, they shall incarcerate and murder writers, but cowards in the form of fascists shall never ever succeed in erasing the urge for truth search and expression that is at the core of being human.

In the 21st Century of unprecedented potential for making planet earth a place called heaven for all, USA (The Ununited States of America), the most powerful nation on earth, is in an orgy of banning books. As if the Coronavirus pandemic and the January 6 insurrection werenโ€™t bad enough. Amongst others, these books lay bare the truths about one of the essential elements of the foundations upon which the economic might of the USA stands: the trans-Atlantic slave trade. This endeavour inhumanely uprooted African people to go and work in slavery the initially cotton-based American agro-industry.

Classified as inferior humans, American-enslaved Africans lived and worked under the most appalling, dehumanizing conditions. Modern day USA racism against people of African descent and others stems from the earliest days of European settlement and subsequent colonization of the north American continent. Truth as plain and undeniable as can be.

Slavery in the USA formally ended in 1865. In the Euro-USA context, though, racism as a social construct continues to seek to perpetuate artificial racial inequalities that have been developed to sustain oppression of Black and other People of Colour. This phenomenon is experienced in other parts of the world also (The Middle East, China, Eurasia), notably Australia, South Africa, and other areas of the world where Euro colonialism has had a lasting imprint. The idea being to infinitely suppress the oppressed so as to maintain them in perpetual subservience. That way forcing them, the People of Colour, to continue selling themselves cheaply for the benefit of the superior White race. Baloney, of course.

Through research and critical analysis of historical facts, books are written in order that knowledge about the truth about where the USA comes from, and what values make and break it can be disseminated as wide and durably as possible. In here is included books countering anti-Semitic literature and the anti-Jewish sentiment as a whole, both in the USA, Europe, and globally.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2022
Author/ Storyteller/ Poet/ Publisher/ Warrior/ Machona Son

Banning and burning of books is knowledge dissemination delayed and denied. I shudder to think about the future of America when literacy rates are as low as they are today. All explicable in historical terms, of course. When some of the leading books banning proponents are Ivy League universities graduates, it may be arguable that many a student enter these institutions with but half-baked academic maturity. No wonder the country is in such a socio-politico mess spearheaded by educated fools. Unversed American children raised by conspiracy theories pregnant America can only but keep the fires of American Nightmare burning in all perpetuity. Trash begets trash. In that case, they can ban me with pleasure for my broken Dream of America.

In Africa, an educated fool emerged from anti-liberation struggle imprisonment once. He had seven university degrees to his name. Obtained from studies behind prison walls with limited access to relevant research literature, the degrees could only have been half-baked. The man brought his country to its knees. He is dead now. His country is on stumps; amputation wounds chronically infected. No school books in the country. Teachers are running away before they lose their knees. Future of intellectually bankrupt America as dire as that of country balancing on stumps that wonโ€™t heal. ย ย ย ย ย ย ย 

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
February 05, 2022

SEBOPUA

CREATURE โ€“ The Thing

In my mother tongue, Sesotho, the verb โ€˜to mouldโ€™ (with clay) is ho bopa (ka letsopa). By extension, ho bopa describes โ€˜to formโ€™, or โ€˜to createโ€™ a tangible, inanimate object out of clay or any other similar malleable material. The objects made may be of functional, ornamental, or both values. They may also be aesthetically attractive or repulsive. And they may either be destructive or life-supporting, either by design or accident, or by intentional application. For purposes of this presentation, we shall work with the concept of ho bopa in terms of creation. In this case, creation producing a dysfunctional output, a thing, with a potential for destruction of the self and/ or its environment.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2021

Etymologically expanding ho bopa leads us to, amongst others, the adjective sebopua. The latter approximately translates as โ€˜a product of creationโ€™ โ€“ a thing, an object the existence of which is acknowledged simply because it exists as a result of creationโ€™s infinite creative potential. Creation gets it right most times; it screws up badly sometimes.

Sebopua is thus used to describe people of various degrees of physical handicaps and intellectual disabilities; often from birth. It may be due to birthing complications, illness, inherent neurological or genetic aberrations, and many more. The expression sebopua is often applied derogatively. It may also be used in exasperation as a manifestation of grief against a condition of hopelessness, extreme suffering for the afflicted, and the next of kin as well; including national social welfare authorities, where applicable.  

On the one extreme thereโ€™ll be a wholly physically disabled person of any age; drawing much sympathy from others: harmless, poor, unfortunate product of Godโ€™s creation.

On the other extreme, thereโ€™ll be a borderline, apparently normal person. But they will have all kinds of eccentricities. These render the sebopua incapable of functioning within socially conventional boundaries of human interactions. Much so in adulthood, people in this category tend to live in parallel universes contra mainstream social wisdom concerning how society is organized; from the smallest family units to the larger national entities.

Sebopua people break all the rules, either purposely or because โ€˜it is what it isโ€™. They donโ€™t know anything else but their unique ways of looking at the world. They cannot understand that others can think or act differently from them in given situations. They simply donโ€™t know how to empathize: itโ€™s their way or no way at all. Civility is a concept unknown here.

Some of human historyโ€™s greatest thinkers in all human endeavour the works of whom society benefits from even today can easily be drawn from the eccentrics above. These often tend not to be too much of a burden to society. It is those that are inclined to destruction that are a curse to humanity. Some of the most perilous leaders in human history have emerged from the latter category of sebopua, a freak of creation.  

The thing about sebopua is that they are just a thing. They are devoid of coherent feelings and thoughts expression. Sebopua tend to be one-way-traffic communication machines. Their language skills can often leave much to be desired. Talking to one could as well be as good as talking to a clay molded human figure.  

Sebopua are indifferent to the elements; they know no pain. The only form of pleasure that matters for sebopua is their staying alive at the expense of their perceived and real enemies, not understanding how anybody can be so stupid compared to their, sebopuaโ€™s superior intelligence. Sebopua brutality can be horrendous. Woe to the spineless that fall for sebopuaโ€™s deceptive charisma. Woe to non-stayer enemies of sebopua.

ยฉSimon Chilembo 2020

Another thing about sebopua is that an eccentric sebopua is a sebopua. The condition knows no colour. It knows no race. The only difference is the relative extent of power exercised and access to weapons of destruction according to their location on planet earth. This here debunks racism as an ideology that claims and pushes ideas that some races are inferior to others. In a perfect world of the free, people group in cliques not always out of racial identities solidarity. Both for the good and the bad, people are drawn to and bond with one another out of shared mental constructs; shared world views.

Thereโ€™s sebopua in a cul-de-sac in America today. The walls are closing in. I wonder what theyโ€™re going to do when they canโ€™t breathe anymore. In England, another one bites the dust. The world must now learn to stop political experiments with dibopua (sebopua plural form) if we have learned anything from the Coronavirus (Covid-19) pandemic.

In the old days, dibopua used to be hidden away. Or worse. Democracy is a wonderful thing in our times: everyone has the right to live. Whatever the cost. However, thereโ€™s a tipping point to everything in life. May the fair and just prevail in all holes and surfaces of the planet. May light reign supreme. Ultimately.     

SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
January 13, 2022

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