Author: manqindi

Post imperial wind drift. Swazi, British, Zimbabwe-Rhodesian, Irish, New Zealand citizen and resident, now in Queensland, Australia. 10th generation African of mainly European descent. Catholic upbringing, more free thinker now. BA and Law background. Altar boy, wages clerk, uncle, prefect, student, court clerk, prosecutor, magistrate, convoy escort, pensioner, HR Practitioner, husband, stepfather, father, bull terrier lover, telephone interviewer, Call Centre manager, HR manager, grandfather, author (amateur)

To my granddaughter, at 5 days

In my day and my Daddy’s day, grown-up was 18, when most people finished school, got a driving licence and ordered a beer in a bar. You won’t need a driver’s licence, my beloved, as the cars that are still around won’t need drivers, they’ll drive themselves far better than we could ever do. Try to give beer a miss.

My grandfather used horses to get around. He never owned a car or a telephone.

He was a soldier and rode into battle on his horse, with a sabre and a rifle.

I hope that I will be able to read you stories, but I suspect that books will also have largely disappeared. I know your Dad has already started reading to you.

Sharing anything with anyone is always a good thing, because even if it is a bad experience you will be able to share the pain and if it is a happy one you will be able to double your joy!

It is very important that you take time to talk to other people and do things together. Try to eat one meal a day with your family – no distractions, just talk to each other.

You will probably be a vegetarian, although you will eat stuff that looks and tastes like meat – we have a braai tradition. But real meat will be too expensive so we will cook vegieSteak and goggaPrawns on the barbie…

If you are lucky, your family will have its own vertical TerraFarm next to your house, which will produce most of your food. Maybe one of your first tasks will be feeding the chickens and collecting the eggs.

We had a fine rooster called Mziki when I was young. He was very fierce and crowed the loudest of all roosters in town. I hope you are able to keep a rooster so you can wake up when it crows in the morning.

I hope you will love growing things as well.

When I was a boy, this world was still being explored. New societies were still being discovered in deep jungles. You will be able to work on Mars and explore outer space. Remember to call home. Parents never stop worrying about their children. Perhaps you could rather send an avatar so you won’t miss dinner and your Mum won’t fret.

Do your best, be brave, be humble, help others.

Sing

Smile

Dance

The end of the world is invisible

We spent a day at Hervey Bay

Not a breath of wind;

A grey day,

With hints of pink and a smudge of blue.

In a gap between trees

I saw the sea.

Unending steel grey,

Going away, not stopping for an horizon.

There must be a rim, which keeps it all in.

Justice fails

“It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer“, known as Blackstone’s ratio.

“Avoid legal punishments as far as possible, and if there are any doubts in the case then use them, for it is better for a judge to err towards leniency than towards punishment” is a statement attributed to Muhammad.

These are fundamental precepts in the administration of justice.

But the systems in practice fail terribly:

On the one hand, most crimes are undetected and unreported. Because of the above precepts an extremely low percentage, possibly less than 5% of reported crimes result in prosecution.

Where is the justice for victims?

On the other hand, many people are apprehended by the justice system, processed, imprisoned and almost invariably degraded, dehumanised and criminalised by that experience.

This article was prompted by a TED video presentation by Robin Steinberg on the injustice of the bail system in the US.

The statistics presented were horrifying: on any day in the US, 75% of people charged cannot afford the bail set.

There are over 400, 000 people in custody awaiting trial, unable to pay bail.

We are talking of one of the wealthiest countries in the world, where bail is rarely refused. Imagine what it must be like in less sophisticated societies!

If you can’t pay bail, you likely can’t afford a lawyer, are unemployed and struggling to feed your family.
If you are employed you will likely be fired and your family evicted from your home. In jail there is a high risk of assault and rape.
You are exposed to hardened criminals and gangs who enforce their demands. You have limited contact with your loved ones.

Jail is an ugly and terrifying place to be.

The bail project is an organisation which pays the bail of those who are unable to do so.

96% of people sponsored in this way, return to face trial
Over 50% of these cases are dismissed
Less than 2% of those charged receive jail sentences.

Of those that remain in custody, 90% plead guilty, many just to get out of jail.

The criminal justice system is a cruel failure where most crimes are undetected and many innocents plead guilty to avoid prolonged incarceration.

What are the options?

Probably some subordination of individual rights to community interest as universal surveillance becomes the norm..

Can you see that getting through existing Parliaments in western democracies?

That is a topic for another day.

A living will is a dying wish

“The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die and you to live. Which of these two is better, only God knows.”

-Socrates

Such clarity of mind and absence of fear, when faced with imminent death, is remarkable and unusual. His last words were a reminder to Crito to pay a debt for him.

I am not dying, nor do I intend to do so for a number of years yet. However, I suspect when that Spectre is nigh, that I might not be possessed of the coolth and clarity of Socrates. So I will tell you now about how I would not like my dying to occur.

My intention is to inform my kith and kin and doctors to avoid the involvement of lawyers, who insist on making simple statements complex in order to guarantee certainty … and fees, no doubt.

In accordance with our will, my estate and all my possessions are to become my wife’s property and in the event of her death, before or after me, will be divided equally amongst our five children.

A simple concept was developed in Florida, USA to encapsulate the how I want to die / don’t want to die situation, called the Five Wishes, which met the approval of even Mother Theresa :

My wife is the person I want to make care decisions for me when I can’t. If she can’t, then I wish one or two of my children to do so.
I do not wish to receive Medical Treatment that will prolong my life, unless I would be able to enjoy a good quality of life thereafter. Don’t keep me alive as a vegetable, don’t resuscitate me unless I could go swimming unaided and sing songs thereafter.
I like the idea of pain relief and maintaining dignity, even if it might not be good for continued breathing.
I do not wish to be a burden on my family, especially if /when I become demented. Place me in care and only come to see me if I will recognise you.
- There is a Catch 22 here which you will need to resolve: the cost of care will come from our estate, which may diminish your inheritance. Let your own quality of life be the guiding principle.
I would like a memorial gathering where people can offer prayers, tell stories, laugh and cry.
- Above all I would like to hear the singing from wherever I may be;
- I wouldn’t mind a wake – in any event, I would like people to have a bit of a hooley
- I would like my ashes to be the growth medium for an umVovovo tree (huilende boerboon / tree fuschia).

That’s where that thought went…

My granddaughter asked me to come and play; I replied that I was writing, to which she inquired: Why do you write?

To paint pictures with words … Really?

No, but I usually avoid the answer as I suspect it has something to do with a struggle to confront irrelevance or worse, insignificance.

I like the idea of creating something for others to see. Why does one seek recognition? Is it Pride: a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements … consciousness of one’s own dignity …?

Wikipedia sets my anxious Catholic-bred mind at rest. Pride can be positive – a humble and content sense of attachment… a product of praise, independent self-reflection, and a fulfilled feeling of belonging. Or it can be an irrationally corrupt sense of one’s personal value, status or accomplishments … synonymous with hubris.

Hubris is the terrible sin which saw Lucifer cast out of Heaven and transformed to become Satan. It is essentially placing one’s self above others, which as Satan experienced, attracts God’s great wrath.

Strong individuals who drive themselves on to achieve their goals often start to overemphasize the worth of their own wisdom and fail to seek out or consider the counsel of others. Their thinking takes on a circular nature:

I have achieved because I am wise therefore I need only to follow my own advice…

This lack of regard for others inevitably leads to isolation, avoidance by others and great internal conflict which, when faced with failure often manifests in uncontrolled outbursts and increased isolation.

The cure for hubris? A mirror could be used to provide perspective; or perhaps a challenge to seek ways to show gratitude frequently. A re-ordering of values and objectives would help – but who would be able to beard the lion in his den?

According to Greek legend and as Lucifer discovered, unchecked hubris leads to Nemesis.

I find that I am a great avoider, maybe we all are. Avoidance defers scrutiny and if neatly accomplished, may attract regard for the adroitness of the manoeuvre, distracting attention from the reason therefor.

Of course, in the strict light of day, there is no escape: avoidance is more likely a want of courage, which is unacceptable… (how does one avoid that?)

That’s what happens when one indulges in idle thinking!

Bollemakiesie

The young can make us young again too.

As is our habit we braaied at the weekend, well on Easter Monday. It was our usual family gathering with dear friends and some visiting rellies from across the ocean.

Somehow there was a slightly more festive spirit than the norm which seemed to make the beer and fizz go down easier.

We were a somewhat eclectic crowd with some in their sixties, fifties, forties, thirties, three dogs and a four year old sprite.

Normally a fairly shy child, on this day, she was filled with the energy of a March hare and the command of a Ringmaster. While we chatted and kept up the level of our liquids in the early stages, she inspected the toys and her dolls house, engaging the dogs in a number of role plays. A bit later, I noticed the dogs had gone missing. I found them in the dolls’ house, waiting patiently to resume the game.

However, the young queen bee had moved on and was engaging the adults, commanding their participation in a number of exercises and role plays, including catch-the-grasshopper and a tea party.

Her timing was impeccable and her enthusiasm and commands were charmingly irresistible. The new activity at Playschool was yoga so all were instructed to participate in yoga exercises. Peer pressure enforced participation, which should have been more wisely considered in some cases.

Head over heels (bollemakiesies in Afrikaans) were the exercise for men and all surrendered their dignity to roll around on the grass in pairs. The last pair included a grandfather who was proud to have been in his primary school gymnastics team and remembered well his star turn of a somersault over a wooden horse…

His bollemakiesie was very well executed, symmetrical and straight. However, the total effect was spoilt by the unfamiliar pressures on reasonably airtight gaskets. The resultant lapse of the system was quite a blast.

A nervous glance sideways revealed that it had not gone undetected.. two people were crying and the dogs were trying to run away…

Growing old does not prevent infection by the rashness of youth, it merely impairs the ability to maintain dignity and integrity while under its spell.

My granddaughter is quite a lot older and wiser now.

Away with the fairies until April Fools’ Day

Sorry … no muse today: flat battery

Swift Justice

Ping!! – I checked the message on my wristphone.

It was from the Department of Justice: You have been identified as the perpetrator of an offence against the reputation of the State. Report to the Cleveland Magistrate at 10h00 today, failing which your digital access will be suspended.

In 2058, there is no alternative: the System always knows where you are; if your access is suspended, you will not be able to use transport systems, transact cryptocoin or even call anyone; every public building will bar your entry. You can’t even run into the forest as your embedded microchip will broadcast your location.

What have I done? I was pretty sure it related to an old 2012 article I had quoted from in my most recent sillysocksonfriday blog, on the consequences of the welfare state. The article cited increased costs, making labour markets too inflexible, with unintended moral consequences reducing the will to work and any sense of self-responsibility. It suggested that comprehensive social programs diminished informal caring relations and social networks, fostering social isolation and self-centredness.

The State is very sensitive to criticism and this is its way of suppressing dissent.

So I called my virtual solicitor, updated him and requested a barrister’s presence at my online meeting with the Magistrate. I advised that I believed it would be the same issue relating to civil liberties as my previous case. As this was not my first such clash with the State for criticism of their smothering welfare policies, they were again trying to silence me, despite the overthrow of my last conviction by the Global Appeal Court.

The universal Justice system was amazingly efficient and in this modern digital age, an issue could be decided and if necessary, appeal to national and global levels could be concluded within 3 days!

Of course, all evidence was immediately available to the Magistracy (nicknamed RexRegina) as were all laws, precedents and customs. There was still a need for representation as local knowledge was essential to ensure that the State was consistent in its prosecution of the laws.

That was its weak point – some State Security information analyst equated criticism with sedition: the District Prosecutor had to react to all complaints and often issued a summons to try to pressure a plea out of accused parties which enabled a settlement. If RexRegina threw the charge out, his/her butt was covered (or so he/she thought!) I believe it’s time for this function to be digitised too!

It is remarkable that the main attributes of a courtroom lawyer no longer required a quick mind and a smooth turn of phrase; digital magistrates are unmoved thereby.

The most common complaint and effective defence was victimisation. This had been so since the emancipation of women, demise of apartheid, legalisation of homosexuality and the #metoo outcry of the minorities in the late 1900’s and early 2000’s. The sensationalism and emotionalism provoked by the media had led to major distortions of value systems and virtual lynch mobs. The System reaction had been the required verification of media reports by blockchain and the institution of the digital Justice system.

At 10h00, I and my barrister reported online in the virtual Courtroom in hologram. The virtual Magistrate ascertained that we could proceed immediately, heard my not guilty plea, found there was no offence committed and re-iterated that criticism was part of the freedom of expression.

The District Prosecutor was ordered to review his system to ensure that it contained details of my previous appeal case.

I was awarded costs and ₿1000 compensation for malicious prosecution, which I donated to the Home Farming University.

To celebrate the endurance of the principle of freedom of expression, I ordered a tuk-tuk drone to fetch me from home to take me to lunch at the Lighthouse Restaurant. As a centenarian pensioner, one can’t afford a Jagjet! My virtual barrister joined me at no extra cost but of course did not dine…

If you are right … I am wrong (or vice versa)

The origin of this thought was my ongoing despair when I consider religions.

What finally shook me out of the tree is the fundamental rule of most religions: If you do not believe, you will be denied Heaven. You have got to pay your dues to be able to get the benefits. Sorry for you if you haven’t actually heard about Him/Her or just think that there may be better explanations out there

You may be thinking that is a bit tough for pygmies, headhunters and Amazon Indians? I shouldn’t worry because humans are amazingly adaptable and flexible: they make their own gods, who make their own rules which will let you into Heaven by another door. The Dalai Lama had it right.

But the gods are jealous and they protect their interests by excluding non-believers, some more radically than others.

I yearn to believe, because that would make the world easier to understand, accept and depart from – knowing there is a happy landing on the other side. But I am sceptical: I believe that man has manipulated the yearning for God and produced evidence that his version is right, so I must do what he says.

Way back in time, people realised that they could hunt and defend themselves better and more easily find mates if they worked and lived together. If the strongest man kept on taking all the meat for himself, others would leave seeking safer and more co-operative groups.

So he gave some of the kill to others; if somebody took too much or too soon, they got whacked. The old and weak drank from rivers first to ascertain if there were crocodiles, women carried the food and walked behind, children could be seen but not heard… rules were born.

With rules came priests… they became the recorders of the rules, distinguished between right/good and wrong/evil and in due course became the explainers of the origin of the rules, the guardians of the Light.

The easiest explanation was that God made the rules, but he was invisible and only spoke to his priests. The forte of the strong was brawn not brain, so warrior kings believed the priests…who anointed kings as gods…

In due course, the magic of rituals and symbols was developed, by the priests, who jealously guarded their access to God.

So we saw the Crusades and the rise of Islam and the Inquisition and the Reformation and pogroms and all the terrible rituals and punishments that we were led to believe were sanctified by God.

This continued for millennia, until priests became too greedy. Learning uncovered the sources and mysteries of faith, which allowed the freedom of choice, in turn allowing the common man to accept or reject or even offer a better explanation. And so religions proliferated as the advantages of power over the minds of people became apparent and commercially viable. Christianity alone has seen an increase in denominations from 1600 in 1910 to 43,000 in 2012.

Too many are saying: listen to me, my interpretation is better than yours; my Bible is better than your Koran or her Baghavad Gita. If you do not then you are wrong and I may not love you.

What that means to me is that religion causes division, not unity. I fear the magical powers of pastors ordained by their own gods or their own vanity or cupidity.

I fear that religion becomes more divisive despite the many good works performed in its name by the billions of believers.

However, for your peace of mind: China has made re-incarnation without government permission illegal.