My long-ago cousin took off like a hare in the lush grassland of Bhar-El- Gazel. There was a man-eating lion in the ‘hood, and cuz was not about to become somebody’s dinner. He leapt and caught a branch of an olam tree and quickly reached the highest fork created by fractal geometry in nature. The lion circled the tree and made tentative attempts to climb but gave up and sauntered off.
Cousin Lawiyeolore, a tall lanky lad, was safe—safe enough to climb down.
“Huh!” he sighed. He rubbed his stomach—he was hungry. He picked up the fallen olam fruits. Then, an anyeri scrambled into the nearby shrub. He got a stick and beat the shrub and the anyeri darted out, and he chased it and killed it. He soon made fire, and roasted the delicacy. Next, he would go on the prowl to ravish some nubile “gazelles” whose pointed breasts pulsated with desire. In time Lawiyeolore would go on to sire many juniors and princes who knew how to feed themselves and be safe to reproduce more.
Meanwhile, cousin Lagoro, Lawiyeolore’s brother, was a weakling who perished in the vagaries of the random incidents of the grasslands. He never had a chance to propagate his kind. So, the ones with safety consciousness became the successful and dominant for generations after generations to my day.
Along the way, as communication ability developed, cousin Lawiyeolore banded or allied with Lacwinyecol and others. Lacwinyecol was very dark-skinned and stocky. His band came from across the river. Cuz soon learned that, while Lacwinyecol was not good and tracking game, he was crafty as sin—long before sin was invented!
Each time Lawiyeolore killed an anyeri, Lacwinyecol would sound the lion alarm. This would send cuz running and leaving his kill for Lacwinyecol to grab and run in the opposite direction. So now, each time cuz saw Lacwinyecol, his heart would go racing. Protection against danger generated the feeling of fear, which was to later generate other kinds of feelings. Deception (and/or conning) was also discovered.
Safety was the DNA’s way of protection to live another day and procreate and replicate itself. When fear (and its various permutations) came in as a localized feeling and showed itself when not warranted, the bands were in for trouble. Unfortunately, to this day we still employ these feelings in a world which is less dangerous. That is why we are in awe at the exploits of the suicide bombers. What ever happened to safety and fear with these people? The answer is: Mind Assassins.
Young Muslims have been inoculated against fear by a meme of the promise of virgins in the after-life. How much better for spreading one’s genes and blowing up your worst enemies at the same time! Sign me on! It seems counter intuitive, but the DNA was conned!
And so, we are eleven years into the 21st century, and the idea of individual freedom has supposedly reached the ears of millions across the globe. Why are there fiends who still sit with their boots on the head of millions, and live in luxury while the majority of the populace scrounges? What up? Safety and Fear. We know that when fear is overcome, things happen. What happened to Marie Antoinette and her beau? The French chopped their heads. Museveni, no matter what one thinks of him, discarded fear and the losers in his exploits are wailing to this day.
The millions of slaves the world over have to reach critical masses in their locations for the idea of individual freedom that transcends safety and fear. Only then can they use their numerical advantage to change the status quo. Hunger is probably a critical trigger, not press freedom, nor elections nor any of the higher stuff.
Showing posts with label Social Commentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Social Commentary. Show all posts
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Friday, July 2, 2010
Cultures, Rituals and All that Jazz
They demonstrated. They were angry. In answer to a reporter’s question, one dude spitted:
“It is about our culture. Museveni violated the pillar of our culture—the Kabakaship.”
One would hope that, beyond the flaming emotion, there was a genuine and salient understanding of the importance of culture to a people. It was an outrage that, in a sense, many non-Baganda were empathetic, with the tacit understanding that it was an assault (besides the murders) on the core of a people’s essence. Odo me goyo nyeki bigoyi bene. (The cane for beating your co-wife will likely be used against you. So, don’t rejoice at the pain of the other woman).
We are all born into some group or another. We had no choice about it—it was a crapshoot, a lottery draw of nature. The group defines us, gives us a basic formative view of the world from which we set our sails to navigate the often treacherous terrain. The group is also supposed to protect us from forces within and without.
Whether be it family, clan, or tribe, the group is a function of social evolution that took thousands of years to build its characteristics. And, like all evolutionary processes, an ingredient for survival has been competition resulting in wars, trade, espionage, exploitation, domination, slavery, alliances, strategic cooperation, deception, humiliation, abuse, etc.
In this milieu of competition the outcome for a group generally hinges on the strength of its culture—the way of life, clear understanding of its place in the universe, and availability and use of resources. So, when you take away a man’s culture you “set about distorting [his] version of reality, figuratively and literally destroying his trust in the world and his confidence in himself.” (Lung & Prowant, ’02).
Besides superior firepower, or arrow-power, or rungu-power, accomplished mind-slayers know that the key to winning is through the mind-gates of eyes, ears, the nostrils, the mouth, the urethra and the anus. Through these orifices they adroitly undermine a culture and literally destroy a people, leaving them quarrelling among themselves, distrusting one another, resorting to self-abuses of all kinds—basically becoming dysfunctional.
For example, this can be done by the use of symbols that cause our minds to involuntarily form thoughts and images, symbols that trigger responses within us whether we want our minds to or not. Why is that? Symbols bypass the critical and logical conscious part our minds and talk directly to the nonjudgmental subconscious levels of our minds. (Lung & Prowant, ’02). The slayer then can insert anything he wants at will.
Any culture worth its salt has rituals: for marriage, coming-of-age, settling quarrels and mistakes, forgiving, groveling for favors and appeasing the gods, etc. A good mind slayer will put a different mind filter that junks your rituals and reconstructs your mindset, often resulting in a dysfunctional confusion. Is there any wonder that we find ourselves spinning our wheels in a journey to nowhere?
Take the example of the ritual of coming-of-age which was supposed to instill a sense of such qualities as honor, identity, group coercion and solidarity, responsibility and all the good stuff. It has been subtly replaced by western education, Christianity and Islam. The latter two being, in reality, just merely other peoples’ mechanistic mind inferences to experiences with existential phenomena. (Boyer, ’01). If this replacement was good for us, overall, what are the results?
“It is about our culture. Museveni violated the pillar of our culture—the Kabakaship.”
One would hope that, beyond the flaming emotion, there was a genuine and salient understanding of the importance of culture to a people. It was an outrage that, in a sense, many non-Baganda were empathetic, with the tacit understanding that it was an assault (besides the murders) on the core of a people’s essence. Odo me goyo nyeki bigoyi bene. (The cane for beating your co-wife will likely be used against you. So, don’t rejoice at the pain of the other woman).
We are all born into some group or another. We had no choice about it—it was a crapshoot, a lottery draw of nature. The group defines us, gives us a basic formative view of the world from which we set our sails to navigate the often treacherous terrain. The group is also supposed to protect us from forces within and without.
Whether be it family, clan, or tribe, the group is a function of social evolution that took thousands of years to build its characteristics. And, like all evolutionary processes, an ingredient for survival has been competition resulting in wars, trade, espionage, exploitation, domination, slavery, alliances, strategic cooperation, deception, humiliation, abuse, etc.
In this milieu of competition the outcome for a group generally hinges on the strength of its culture—the way of life, clear understanding of its place in the universe, and availability and use of resources. So, when you take away a man’s culture you “set about distorting [his] version of reality, figuratively and literally destroying his trust in the world and his confidence in himself.” (Lung & Prowant, ’02).
Besides superior firepower, or arrow-power, or rungu-power, accomplished mind-slayers know that the key to winning is through the mind-gates of eyes, ears, the nostrils, the mouth, the urethra and the anus. Through these orifices they adroitly undermine a culture and literally destroy a people, leaving them quarrelling among themselves, distrusting one another, resorting to self-abuses of all kinds—basically becoming dysfunctional.
For example, this can be done by the use of symbols that cause our minds to involuntarily form thoughts and images, symbols that trigger responses within us whether we want our minds to or not. Why is that? Symbols bypass the critical and logical conscious part our minds and talk directly to the nonjudgmental subconscious levels of our minds. (Lung & Prowant, ’02). The slayer then can insert anything he wants at will.
Any culture worth its salt has rituals: for marriage, coming-of-age, settling quarrels and mistakes, forgiving, groveling for favors and appeasing the gods, etc. A good mind slayer will put a different mind filter that junks your rituals and reconstructs your mindset, often resulting in a dysfunctional confusion. Is there any wonder that we find ourselves spinning our wheels in a journey to nowhere?
Take the example of the ritual of coming-of-age which was supposed to instill a sense of such qualities as honor, identity, group coercion and solidarity, responsibility and all the good stuff. It has been subtly replaced by western education, Christianity and Islam. The latter two being, in reality, just merely other peoples’ mechanistic mind inferences to experiences with existential phenomena. (Boyer, ’01). If this replacement was good for us, overall, what are the results?
Friday, February 26, 2010
From Order to Chaos
You might have studied the book, Lord of the Flies, in high school. The namesake film will get you quite engrossed.
*When people come together, can they necessarily build a community?
*What are necessary to build a community?
*What break up a community into chaos?
*Look at how myths and belief get created in ignorance
*When a little one tentatively says “the beast is us,” no one comprehends the essence
*Look at the key players as they play their roles. You might see yourself or someone you know in: Ralph, Jack, Piggy, Roger, Simon, Sam&Eric.
Since the big bang, the cycle of the universe has been from order to chaos in nature and in our mundane activities. One is born in natural order, and one dies in natural chaos. You clean your desk but, sooner or later, there is chaos. To live skillfully is to be mindful of the phenomenon and manage it and/or go with the flow without being bewildered.
The “civilized” British school children, stranded on an island, without adult experiential supervision, deteriorated predictably from order, when Ralph became chief to the eventual end, when he was hunted like an animal in chaos. Look at many organizations, communities, countries, etc. and you see the same pattern to the letter.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Let It Go!
*What is past is over. It cannot be changed. We will inevitably receive the results of our past intentions and actions. Our freedom lies in how we respond to these results. Our response creates new karma, new patterns that will eventually bear fruit. By creating a healthier future we can redeem the past.
--Jack Kornfield
------------
A tumor had developed, so one of her wombs was cut out. The doctor said she could still “see the moon.” But as fate would have it, the whole system shut down prematurely—no moon, no nothing. How could it be? Did the doctor cut all her wombs? What man would want her now—a hag unable to bear fruits. That was not in the script. The pain, only a woman could understand, was so excruciating. She walked about like a zombie. The sight of pregnant women sent chills through her spine.
That was suffering added to pain. Sometimes pain hits like a tone of brick out of the blues. How we deal with it is another matter. Pain can be a given—coming from the vagaries of the human condition that, at times, seems to have no rhythm and rhyme on the surface.
Who has not been betrayed? Wicked calumnies have been floated about us at one time or another. At one time or another we lost this or that which was very dear to us. Do we cling to the pains of these events and play it over and over again like a broken record, while plotting revenge, lawsuits, suicide, or plain old feeling hopeless? That is undulterated suffering.
The problem with suffering is that it has mental and other physical consequences. When we nurture the pain—that is, suffer—we send all kinds of electrical signals and secrete chemicals that debilitate our well-being.
So, what to do? Just let go! But from experience, we know it is not that easy, let alone forgive and forget. How then do we do it? That is the million-dollar question. It is in the mind and its many states. Good luck in your quest. Sometimes one needs an expert for help. And, last but no least: time is of the essence.
---------------
Soko’s Classic Movie Pick: The Page Turner: Melanie schemed and got her revenge. But at what cost? The movie only gives a glimpse on the destruction of her nemesis. What about her? We are not told.
--Jack Kornfield
------------
A tumor had developed, so one of her wombs was cut out. The doctor said she could still “see the moon.” But as fate would have it, the whole system shut down prematurely—no moon, no nothing. How could it be? Did the doctor cut all her wombs? What man would want her now—a hag unable to bear fruits. That was not in the script. The pain, only a woman could understand, was so excruciating. She walked about like a zombie. The sight of pregnant women sent chills through her spine.
That was suffering added to pain. Sometimes pain hits like a tone of brick out of the blues. How we deal with it is another matter. Pain can be a given—coming from the vagaries of the human condition that, at times, seems to have no rhythm and rhyme on the surface.
Who has not been betrayed? Wicked calumnies have been floated about us at one time or another. At one time or another we lost this or that which was very dear to us. Do we cling to the pains of these events and play it over and over again like a broken record, while plotting revenge, lawsuits, suicide, or plain old feeling hopeless? That is undulterated suffering.
The problem with suffering is that it has mental and other physical consequences. When we nurture the pain—that is, suffer—we send all kinds of electrical signals and secrete chemicals that debilitate our well-being.
So, what to do? Just let go! But from experience, we know it is not that easy, let alone forgive and forget. How then do we do it? That is the million-dollar question. It is in the mind and its many states. Good luck in your quest. Sometimes one needs an expert for help. And, last but no least: time is of the essence.
---------------
Soko’s Classic Movie Pick: The Page Turner: Melanie schemed and got her revenge. But at what cost? The movie only gives a glimpse on the destruction of her nemesis. What about her? We are not told.
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Silent Mystery
A man thanks God that he was spared in an accident in which many were killed. An athlete makes a sign of the cross before lining up for a race in which she comes fifth at the other end. A flood washes out a village killing hundreds. Villagers, with their worldly goods on their heads, march hundreds of miles to escape warring warloads. The people of Haiti are asking: Why us? Then a deranged American christian televangelist says the Hatians have had a pack with the devil. Nothing needs commenting on the equally ignorant, crude and inelegant comment by Russ Limbaugh.
In all these, God, that we have been told is kind, loving, omnipotence and omniscience, is silent. In all these, he, she or it is a mystery—hidden and inaccessible. Yet others claim they communicate with him, her or it. At times he/she/it asks the “knights of the roundtable” to wage wars and kill others who have different takes and approaches.
Meanwhile we observe around us and see births, growths, declines, deaths. Seasons come, seasons go; nations rise, nations decline; mortals are lifted and brought down; some have smiles and peace that never fade; some have gloom and frowns that never go away. Do these give clues about reality? In all these he, she, it is silent. Yet there are some who are presumptous enough to claim they hear him, her or it. Are they for real or are they selling us a bill of goods (especially when they are so dogmatic about it)?
All along, the perpetual metaphysical questions persist: Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going? Having not explored these questions we flounder, bewildered by natural and man-made disasters, cruelty, greed, rejections, deprivations and similar ills. And when fortune comes in our favor, we cling to it and appropriate it as coming from our own prowess. Our heads swell until unseen forces sneak up on us. The fortunes are gone, and we flounder, bewildered.
Soko's Classic Movie Pick: Four Minutes. A reviting German movie that will keep you glued to the screen.
In all these, God, that we have been told is kind, loving, omnipotence and omniscience, is silent. In all these, he, she or it is a mystery—hidden and inaccessible. Yet others claim they communicate with him, her or it. At times he/she/it asks the “knights of the roundtable” to wage wars and kill others who have different takes and approaches.
Meanwhile we observe around us and see births, growths, declines, deaths. Seasons come, seasons go; nations rise, nations decline; mortals are lifted and brought down; some have smiles and peace that never fade; some have gloom and frowns that never go away. Do these give clues about reality? In all these he, she, it is silent. Yet there are some who are presumptous enough to claim they hear him, her or it. Are they for real or are they selling us a bill of goods (especially when they are so dogmatic about it)?
All along, the perpetual metaphysical questions persist: Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going? Having not explored these questions we flounder, bewildered by natural and man-made disasters, cruelty, greed, rejections, deprivations and similar ills. And when fortune comes in our favor, we cling to it and appropriate it as coming from our own prowess. Our heads swell until unseen forces sneak up on us. The fortunes are gone, and we flounder, bewildered.
Soko's Classic Movie Pick: Four Minutes. A reviting German movie that will keep you glued to the screen.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
What is the Pomposity and Posturing All About?
I would ask the church men in their androgynous dresses and weird caps to tell me where their Jesus directly condemned homosexuality. Personally, I don’t understand how or why somebody is a queer. But then there are so many things in this world that I don’t understand. Do I have to walk on my head because these things are real to somebody?
At the bottom of the hullabaloo about homosexuality is the arrogant notion that man is the center of the universe against all logic. Not long ago the Christian Church insisted on the geocentric concept of the universe, and would hang anybody who disagreed. Thus Copernicus couldn’t publish his contrarian view until after his death for fear of being persecuted. It is now a scientific fact that the earth revolves around the sun, and not vice versa. So, if you still doubt evolution, then you are all wet.
In the complex evolution to consciousness man has been saddle with a myriads of challenges—the good and the bad. The genitals and their attendant emotional attractions were meant to perpetuate procreation. Thanks to the coded information in the genome that passes those instincts from one generation to the next. What if the random sequencing process of the four-bit nucleotides doesn’t go according to plan? Might it not be the reason why Johnny is attracted to Tommy, instead of to Mary? Why would it be of my concern when the two consenting adults fancy one another and do their thing in the privacy of their bedroom? I don’t question what the Bishop does to his wife. Moreover, the Bishops of my childhood world never sacked with anybody—at least officially!
Of all things evil—greed, obsession with power, uncontrolled anger, or distorted sense of self—,
homosexuality doesn’t come close to the destruction of society. The tale of Sodom is just some Jewish folklore. I would rather see the virile heterosexual MPs. and Bishops working on meaningful laws to curb life presidency or punish CHOGM cheats who sap the nation of its energy rather than wasting time on banalities.
At the bottom of the hullabaloo about homosexuality is the arrogant notion that man is the center of the universe against all logic. Not long ago the Christian Church insisted on the geocentric concept of the universe, and would hang anybody who disagreed. Thus Copernicus couldn’t publish his contrarian view until after his death for fear of being persecuted. It is now a scientific fact that the earth revolves around the sun, and not vice versa. So, if you still doubt evolution, then you are all wet.
In the complex evolution to consciousness man has been saddle with a myriads of challenges—the good and the bad. The genitals and their attendant emotional attractions were meant to perpetuate procreation. Thanks to the coded information in the genome that passes those instincts from one generation to the next. What if the random sequencing process of the four-bit nucleotides doesn’t go according to plan? Might it not be the reason why Johnny is attracted to Tommy, instead of to Mary? Why would it be of my concern when the two consenting adults fancy one another and do their thing in the privacy of their bedroom? I don’t question what the Bishop does to his wife. Moreover, the Bishops of my childhood world never sacked with anybody—at least officially!
Of all things evil—greed, obsession with power, uncontrolled anger, or distorted sense of self—,
homosexuality doesn’t come close to the destruction of society. The tale of Sodom is just some Jewish folklore. I would rather see the virile heterosexual MPs. and Bishops working on meaningful laws to curb life presidency or punish CHOGM cheats who sap the nation of its energy rather than wasting time on banalities.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Are Christians Cannibals?
Joshua (a.k.a. Jesus), the man, was a rebel against the Jewish establishment. He ridiculed the high and mighty Pharisees, with their haughty legalistic showmanship. His core message was about Love, which, supposedly, is the message of most major religions of the world. He was, however, one of the few teachers who recognized the mental component to liberate the masses: that what is important is what goes on in the mind—the outward show of animal sacrifices and piety is a dog without the right mindset.
Like many great men, Joshua was seemingly full of contradictions. Why the anger in cursing up a fig tree or beating up traders in the temple? We will never know why he was reluctant to help the Greek woman who had a daughter possessed by a demon just because the woman was non-Jewish. Then, his most enigmatic act was at the Last Supper when he blessed bread and wine and offered it to his disciples as his body and blood. The offering of animals and humans to the gods was nothing new as long as human conjured ways to communicate with the mysterious universe.
Ostensibly, he was going to be the “sacrificial lamb” for the sake of a world gone astray. When the missionaries, backed by the might of gun powder, snuff and trinkets, brought this message to the Afrikan shores, the idea of human sacrifice wouldn’t have been anathema to some Afrikan societies. What would have been problematical to some would have been the eating of human flesh and drinking of human blood, albeit symbolically. To achieve this the missionaries and their backers of force first had to debase the Afrikan and his practices, which were equally symbolic attempts to reach the Unknown.
The Afrikan practices, in their noble motivations, are generally attempts to work on the mind so as to reconcile, thank or ask—effectively, no less different from what Joshua preached. It boggles my mind when a highly western-trained Afrikan shuns certain Afrikan practices just because he is “saved.” In a piece in a local weekly, the elders recognized that the Afrikan had a problem after many years abroad where he sought refuge because of his participation and failures that resulted in many deaths and sufferings. He was asked to do certain things, but he refused claiming his allegiance only to Jesus. The question I ask is: if the said Afrikan labels our practices as the works of heathens, should we label him a cannibal for his eating the body and drinking the blood of a Jew?
Like many great men, Joshua was seemingly full of contradictions. Why the anger in cursing up a fig tree or beating up traders in the temple? We will never know why he was reluctant to help the Greek woman who had a daughter possessed by a demon just because the woman was non-Jewish. Then, his most enigmatic act was at the Last Supper when he blessed bread and wine and offered it to his disciples as his body and blood. The offering of animals and humans to the gods was nothing new as long as human conjured ways to communicate with the mysterious universe.
Ostensibly, he was going to be the “sacrificial lamb” for the sake of a world gone astray. When the missionaries, backed by the might of gun powder, snuff and trinkets, brought this message to the Afrikan shores, the idea of human sacrifice wouldn’t have been anathema to some Afrikan societies. What would have been problematical to some would have been the eating of human flesh and drinking of human blood, albeit symbolically. To achieve this the missionaries and their backers of force first had to debase the Afrikan and his practices, which were equally symbolic attempts to reach the Unknown.
The Afrikan practices, in their noble motivations, are generally attempts to work on the mind so as to reconcile, thank or ask—effectively, no less different from what Joshua preached. It boggles my mind when a highly western-trained Afrikan shuns certain Afrikan practices just because he is “saved.” In a piece in a local weekly, the elders recognized that the Afrikan had a problem after many years abroad where he sought refuge because of his participation and failures that resulted in many deaths and sufferings. He was asked to do certain things, but he refused claiming his allegiance only to Jesus. The question I ask is: if the said Afrikan labels our practices as the works of heathens, should we label him a cannibal for his eating the body and drinking the blood of a Jew?
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Comeback That Never Was
We plan, God decides, so the saying goes. And the man kicked the bucket—never to be heard from again in this earthly realm—no concerts—no comeback.
I was introduced to the Jackson 5, hence Michael Jackson, by my urbanite, relatively sophisticated first serious girlfriend. Me, I was a village hick come to town! I had, of course, read about the slave trade and the Negroes of America, but never really connected to them emotionally. The Jackson 5 and Mohammed Ali were the primary connecting channels. My girl friend had a Jackson tape, and I played it over and over on my analog recorder-player.
Come the eighties, when I could see more clearly, the excitement about the man had waned just as he was hitting the mega stardom. Why? There was something that did not jive right about the man for me. Jackson lacked what Prince (as in The-Artist-Formerly-Known-as-Prince) had—raw unabashed manhood. That effeminate voice and the way he carried himself just wasn’t for me. The self-hate, projected in nearly fifty surgeries to Europeanize the contours of his face, spoiled it all.
Now, like a dream, he is no more except in our memories. What lessons can we, still around here, learn? The Grand Reaper can come at anytime. Now is the only time we have. So, we have to do our utmost best at whatever floats our boat—tuning our Adungu, not too tight, not too lose so that the music brings joy to all and sundry. There are rarely second chances. Hopefully, in the process, we will find the ultimate reality thereby spending the rest of our time beyond mere quest for power, wealth and fame.
I overheard a couple of elderly African-Americans at a neighborhood concert: It was time for him to go and rest.
I was introduced to the Jackson 5, hence Michael Jackson, by my urbanite, relatively sophisticated first serious girlfriend. Me, I was a village hick come to town! I had, of course, read about the slave trade and the Negroes of America, but never really connected to them emotionally. The Jackson 5 and Mohammed Ali were the primary connecting channels. My girl friend had a Jackson tape, and I played it over and over on my analog recorder-player.
Come the eighties, when I could see more clearly, the excitement about the man had waned just as he was hitting the mega stardom. Why? There was something that did not jive right about the man for me. Jackson lacked what Prince (as in The-Artist-Formerly-Known-as-Prince) had—raw unabashed manhood. That effeminate voice and the way he carried himself just wasn’t for me. The self-hate, projected in nearly fifty surgeries to Europeanize the contours of his face, spoiled it all.
Now, like a dream, he is no more except in our memories. What lessons can we, still around here, learn? The Grand Reaper can come at anytime. Now is the only time we have. So, we have to do our utmost best at whatever floats our boat—tuning our Adungu, not too tight, not too lose so that the music brings joy to all and sundry. There are rarely second chances. Hopefully, in the process, we will find the ultimate reality thereby spending the rest of our time beyond mere quest for power, wealth and fame.
I overheard a couple of elderly African-Americans at a neighborhood concert: It was time for him to go and rest.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Integrity
Amin would have probably asked: Who is this man, called Integrity?! If he is a real man, I want to challenge him to a boxing match!
Integrity is one of those words that are rare in the Uganda common lexicon. It is about personal wholeness, consistency, authenticity, and commitment to values and principles in all daily interactions and activities. (Koslow 1999).
In His bargain with Abraham, God promised that He would not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if He could find 10 good people. In a similar vein, can one find 10 people in Uganda with integrity? Hardly. However, in the political realm people like Bidandi Ssali, Amanya Mushega and Besigye can be counted as authentic and capable of correcting the tortured legacy of the nation. One would wish that the first two could have more fire in their bellies. On the other hand, the man heading the NRM has no integrity at all. Many of the rest of us would also as easily compromise our integrity for short-term gains as he has done on many occassions. This is because we have a deluded sense of “self” as we look for happiness in all the wrong objective realities.
Here are some tidbits on Integrity by Koslow.
1. Always keep your word. If a change in circumstances means that keeping your word would be life threatening or otherwise devastating, renegotiate with the intent of maintaining integrity
2. Integrity requires consistency between your public statements and your private thoughts
3. Highly effective people never blame circumstances for their lack of results. Instead, they accept responsibility and recommit to the actions necessary to produce intended results.
Integrity is one of those words that are rare in the Uganda common lexicon. It is about personal wholeness, consistency, authenticity, and commitment to values and principles in all daily interactions and activities. (Koslow 1999).
In His bargain with Abraham, God promised that He would not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if He could find 10 good people. In a similar vein, can one find 10 people in Uganda with integrity? Hardly. However, in the political realm people like Bidandi Ssali, Amanya Mushega and Besigye can be counted as authentic and capable of correcting the tortured legacy of the nation. One would wish that the first two could have more fire in their bellies. On the other hand, the man heading the NRM has no integrity at all. Many of the rest of us would also as easily compromise our integrity for short-term gains as he has done on many occassions. This is because we have a deluded sense of “self” as we look for happiness in all the wrong objective realities.
Here are some tidbits on Integrity by Koslow.
1. Always keep your word. If a change in circumstances means that keeping your word would be life threatening or otherwise devastating, renegotiate with the intent of maintaining integrity
2. Integrity requires consistency between your public statements and your private thoughts
3. Highly effective people never blame circumstances for their lack of results. Instead, they accept responsibility and recommit to the actions necessary to produce intended results.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Who Can Judge Good from Bad?
In a Taoist story, a farmer's horse once ran off into foreign lands. The neighbors all said it was terrible, but the farmer shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not." Later, the horse returned with a foreign horse of fine breed. The neighbors all said it was wonderful, but the farmer shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not." The horse mated, and the farmer became a wealthy horse trader. One day his only son was riding and fell and broke his hip. The neighbors all said how horrible, but the man shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not." Next year, foreigners invaded. All able-bodied young men were drafted. Almost all died in battle. The army had taken all the man's horses, but his son, because of the broken hip, was spared.
The moral: you never know. The other day a good friend of mine asked whether I thought a certain African dictator was grooming his wife to succeed him. She wanted a definite answer, and didn't like my wishy-washy one. You never know; the universe has its own laws. In the chaos theory and complex theory the results of interactions between A & B is dependent on the environment C, plus factors D, E & F.
The moral: you never know. The other day a good friend of mine asked whether I thought a certain African dictator was grooming his wife to succeed him. She wanted a definite answer, and didn't like my wishy-washy one. You never know; the universe has its own laws. In the chaos theory and complex theory the results of interactions between A & B is dependent on the environment C, plus factors D, E & F.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Isn't It Ironic?
The world is very strange. Take the case of American blacks. I cannot even imagine the kinds of sufferings their slave ancestors went through. One aspect of these sufferings was the fact that the master would take the women and have them for pleasure and/or the production of more slave heads in the plantation. Thus came the category of lighter skin blacks. Here is the irony: soon these lighter skin blacks became of “higher quality”—they had “better” skin tone and “better” hair. To this day the lighter skin tone and flowing hair are at a premium in the black community. Those that did not have had to use skin corroding soap and hot comb. Thanks to some chemistry wizard who has concocted chemicals that take the kinkiness out of black heads. It is a multi-billion industry that is supported by even village women in the remotest jungles of Africa. Poor Africans have but to latch on.
What else is strange? The swashbuckling guerilla top dog marched into Kampala in 1986. One of his proclamation was that Africa’s problem was leaders who stay in power for too long. A predecessor, who did not last long in the caretaker seat once commented that the presidential chair was very sweet. Our guerilla top dog certainly agrees with that as he “forgot” his earlier statement and has clung on to power like a tick on one of his cows. He still wants more after twenty plus years and counting. Isn’t it ironic?
Africans were colonized and abused. We could not wait and were euphoric for Independence. Then we got new masters in black skin. Now we can’t wait to get out of the continent and go to the lands of the master colonists. We lie, starve and undergo all kinds of humiliation to get to the “promised land.” Isn’t that ironic?
In America it used to be that if you much as looked at a white woman, you might be hanged on the next tree. Now some of my brothers specialize exclusively on white women. Our uncle, Hussein Obama got on the bandwagon and produced for us a dynamic president. Isn’t that positively ironic?
What else is strange? The swashbuckling guerilla top dog marched into Kampala in 1986. One of his proclamation was that Africa’s problem was leaders who stay in power for too long. A predecessor, who did not last long in the caretaker seat once commented that the presidential chair was very sweet. Our guerilla top dog certainly agrees with that as he “forgot” his earlier statement and has clung on to power like a tick on one of his cows. He still wants more after twenty plus years and counting. Isn’t it ironic?
Africans were colonized and abused. We could not wait and were euphoric for Independence. Then we got new masters in black skin. Now we can’t wait to get out of the continent and go to the lands of the master colonists. We lie, starve and undergo all kinds of humiliation to get to the “promised land.” Isn’t that ironic?
In America it used to be that if you much as looked at a white woman, you might be hanged on the next tree. Now some of my brothers specialize exclusively on white women. Our uncle, Hussein Obama got on the bandwagon and produced for us a dynamic president. Isn’t that positively ironic?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The Monkey Mind
Ever heard of the “monkey mind”? That is how some people describe the seemingly uncontrollable activities of the wondering mind. Like a monkey, constantly jumping from one tree branch to another, the untamed mind jumps about from one thought to another—now it is thousands of miles in London, next it is thinking about Odiya who did me wrong years ago, then it is to the future when life will be milk and honey with a knight with shining armor and on a white horse—hither and thither it wanders.
The other day, instead of biting the morsel of food I was taking to my mouth, I bit the fork and chipped my tooth! The reason: my mind was miles away from eating. Many accidents have occurred because the mind was not with the activities at hand. Besides accidents, the danger to the monkey mind is that it can cause us a lot of miseries. This has nothing to do with the “mind” that can comprehend such arcane concepts as quantization in digitizing analog communications signals, brain elasticity, or fractal geometry. The monkey mind is an equal opportunity phenomenon that afflicts the high and mighty as well as those who eat grass to subsist—unless, of course, one tames it.
All who know agree that a pristine mind is one that dwells in the now. The now and the here is the only earthly reality. The past, a series of the now, is long gone and is reflected in the present circumstances. The future is illusive but can be influenced, to a large extent, by the now.
So, when a snake-oil salesman comes and tells you: “ keep your health and do not die because the future Uganda is a jewel, not unlike Britain or even better,” beware. Just role your eyes and wonder about the state of his mind. If you live in the now in a certain way and hope for a different future, you are either stupid, ignorant or insane. Mismanagement of resources will not change even if Acoliland begins gushing oil in the billions of gallons. Those who are “eating” will continue their gluttonous eating at the expense of the multitudes. A dog will always go back to its vomit.
The other day, instead of biting the morsel of food I was taking to my mouth, I bit the fork and chipped my tooth! The reason: my mind was miles away from eating. Many accidents have occurred because the mind was not with the activities at hand. Besides accidents, the danger to the monkey mind is that it can cause us a lot of miseries. This has nothing to do with the “mind” that can comprehend such arcane concepts as quantization in digitizing analog communications signals, brain elasticity, or fractal geometry. The monkey mind is an equal opportunity phenomenon that afflicts the high and mighty as well as those who eat grass to subsist—unless, of course, one tames it.
All who know agree that a pristine mind is one that dwells in the now. The now and the here is the only earthly reality. The past, a series of the now, is long gone and is reflected in the present circumstances. The future is illusive but can be influenced, to a large extent, by the now.
So, when a snake-oil salesman comes and tells you: “ keep your health and do not die because the future Uganda is a jewel, not unlike Britain or even better,” beware. Just role your eyes and wonder about the state of his mind. If you live in the now in a certain way and hope for a different future, you are either stupid, ignorant or insane. Mismanagement of resources will not change even if Acoliland begins gushing oil in the billions of gallons. Those who are “eating” will continue their gluttonous eating at the expense of the multitudes. A dog will always go back to its vomit.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Love Archetypes
Carl Jung coined the archetype concept. Here are six as potrayed by Dr Allan Hunter.
Ugandans know of one dude who put his rival in jail and concocted rape charges against him. The object of love was power. The dude continues to play the Orphan in his obsession with Lady Power. Only God knows how it will end.
The Buddhists say that such acts will keep one coming back in samsara, the realm of suffering humans. Or worse, you might come back an animal, hell being or hungry spirit. Let us not joke with the Karma thing--it is real!
- The Innocent
- The Orphan
- The Pilgrim
- The Warrior-Lover
- The Monarch
- The Magician
Ugandans know of one dude who put his rival in jail and concocted rape charges against him. The object of love was power. The dude continues to play the Orphan in his obsession with Lady Power. Only God knows how it will end.
The Buddhists say that such acts will keep one coming back in samsara, the realm of suffering humans. Or worse, you might come back an animal, hell being or hungry spirit. Let us not joke with the Karma thing--it is real!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
2009, the Year of Smiles
Life is in fact very simple if we understand how the forces of causes and effects work. In a nutshell; we are the causes—through our minds—of the effects of events, conditions and circumstances that we face. The present reality of our situation is a manifestation of past thoughts. Change the thoughts, and you change the reality. Once you discover the secret, you can smile all the way to the bank. So, make 2009 a year of smiles as you create your reality through your mind.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Living Not to Survive
When going to school and doing odd jobs to pay the bills, two work-related incidents stand out.
The first was a night job that, at first, I could go to at any time as long as I got it done. It was a perfect job that I could schedule my homework around. Soon, however, the boss changed his mind. Now, I had to call him when I arrived and when I completed the job. There was no problem with the quality of my work—it was just an attempt to control the numbers of hours he paid me. I was disturbed, to say the least. I had to survive. But the thought of merely surviving wasn’t tenable with my personality—I quit with no promise of the next job. Surprisingly, when I came across him one day, he offered to give me a good reference for my next gig, which I got soon after.
Another incident was at one discount grocery store chain. One way of keeping costs down was hiring part-timers with no benefits. At training the personnel manager instilled the evils of unionization. One middle-aged fellow male employee falsely reasoned in our conversations that, since he got the job himself, why would he pay a union to represent him? Funny enough, he lost the job before three months. One woman stayed for only a week and quit to sue the store chain for illegal hours and the right to associate. She was awarded an undisclosed amount, and the rest of us got nice chunks of checks in the settlement.
You see where I am going with this. Living merely to survive is unnatural. Besides hindering your ability to manifest your true spirit, you soon pay for it. Look around in the office how people suffocate under the fear of not surviving. Most learn small and timid ways to survive thereby robbing themselves of creative and bold fulfilling lives.
This fear of not surviving is what robs Uganda Parliament of its manhood. Museveni has cracked the balls of the men into eunuchs and cowed the women into submission to do his biddings for an absolute monarch. Look at the country, as a result.
Somebody said: “Living boldly and well is not derived from linear logic [of playing safe]; it is a truism experienced by befriending death.” I will add that only then will you open up to creativity in meeting the challenge of the day like a man—or woman for that matter.
The first was a night job that, at first, I could go to at any time as long as I got it done. It was a perfect job that I could schedule my homework around. Soon, however, the boss changed his mind. Now, I had to call him when I arrived and when I completed the job. There was no problem with the quality of my work—it was just an attempt to control the numbers of hours he paid me. I was disturbed, to say the least. I had to survive. But the thought of merely surviving wasn’t tenable with my personality—I quit with no promise of the next job. Surprisingly, when I came across him one day, he offered to give me a good reference for my next gig, which I got soon after.
Another incident was at one discount grocery store chain. One way of keeping costs down was hiring part-timers with no benefits. At training the personnel manager instilled the evils of unionization. One middle-aged fellow male employee falsely reasoned in our conversations that, since he got the job himself, why would he pay a union to represent him? Funny enough, he lost the job before three months. One woman stayed for only a week and quit to sue the store chain for illegal hours and the right to associate. She was awarded an undisclosed amount, and the rest of us got nice chunks of checks in the settlement.
You see where I am going with this. Living merely to survive is unnatural. Besides hindering your ability to manifest your true spirit, you soon pay for it. Look around in the office how people suffocate under the fear of not surviving. Most learn small and timid ways to survive thereby robbing themselves of creative and bold fulfilling lives.
This fear of not surviving is what robs Uganda Parliament of its manhood. Museveni has cracked the balls of the men into eunuchs and cowed the women into submission to do his biddings for an absolute monarch. Look at the country, as a result.
Somebody said: “Living boldly and well is not derived from linear logic [of playing safe]; it is a truism experienced by befriending death.” I will add that only then will you open up to creativity in meeting the challenge of the day like a man—or woman for that matter.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Can the Lion Co-exist with the Sheep?
Can the lion co-exist with the sheep in peace and harmony? Not as long as there exists in the human realm the FAG factors of Toxic Motivators--Fear, Anger and Greed. The FAGs transmute into jealousy, hatred, revenge and superstition creating amalgam brews whose stenches prevent human progress, individually and/or collectively. We find ourselves spinning our wheels, roaming the desolate desert and never reaching the Promised Land. Replace the FAGs with positive Desire, Faith, Love and Hope, and a whole new vista of abundance and light ensues to the individual and/or to the collective. Isn't that what it is all about?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
A Point of View on Child Sacrifice
Business is a tough affair akin to war. In fact some business schools offer war games in their strategies and tactics classes. If you ever ran even a roasted-groundnut stall, you would know what I mean.
Today the groundnuts are burned, and yet your esteemed customers expect you to be at that corner with the kind of quality products that bring hoards of office workers at break time to your door. The next day your supplier didn’t deliver and, again, your customers expect you to be there otherwise you begin seeing fewer and fewer of the regulars that you crack jokes with. Ad infinitum—you get knocked down, kicked below the belt, or even, literally, spat on by customers. All the while people are thinking you are a success, when you are roiling inside as your cash is tied up and soon URA might shut you down for late payment.
It is tough running a business. It requires mental toughness and a Jujitsu agility to succeed. Yet some people seemingly do it effortlessly, having discovered the Midas touch. Many seek exotic aids to acquire that rare quality. This is where child sacrifice meets business.
Holding a decapitated head and severed genitals would make most of us retch and quake with horror. However, when the Kajubis of Uganda take the decapitated heads and genitals and do with it what the witch doctor prescribes, they achieve the mental edge, hence the Midas touch in business. From then on they fear nothing—nothing fazes them. Note Mr. Kajubi is relaxed and smiling—even with hand calves on. Now he is armed with the daring and quantum thinking that brings great rewards in war, business and, even winning the hearts of goddesses. Did somebody not proclaimed in his thesis paper at the University of Dar-Es-Salaam that the path to power is to hold the severed head of an enemy?
It is sick. All this could be achieved with techniques other than the horrors of war or macabre rituals.
Today the groundnuts are burned, and yet your esteemed customers expect you to be at that corner with the kind of quality products that bring hoards of office workers at break time to your door. The next day your supplier didn’t deliver and, again, your customers expect you to be there otherwise you begin seeing fewer and fewer of the regulars that you crack jokes with. Ad infinitum—you get knocked down, kicked below the belt, or even, literally, spat on by customers. All the while people are thinking you are a success, when you are roiling inside as your cash is tied up and soon URA might shut you down for late payment.
It is tough running a business. It requires mental toughness and a Jujitsu agility to succeed. Yet some people seemingly do it effortlessly, having discovered the Midas touch. Many seek exotic aids to acquire that rare quality. This is where child sacrifice meets business.
Holding a decapitated head and severed genitals would make most of us retch and quake with horror. However, when the Kajubis of Uganda take the decapitated heads and genitals and do with it what the witch doctor prescribes, they achieve the mental edge, hence the Midas touch in business. From then on they fear nothing—nothing fazes them. Note Mr. Kajubi is relaxed and smiling—even with hand calves on. Now he is armed with the daring and quantum thinking that brings great rewards in war, business and, even winning the hearts of goddesses. Did somebody not proclaimed in his thesis paper at the University of Dar-Es-Salaam that the path to power is to hold the severed head of an enemy?
It is sick. All this could be achieved with techniques other than the horrors of war or macabre rituals.
Monday, November 24, 2008
It is the Mind, Stupid
Ex-president Clinton, once said he would focus on the economy like a laser beam, because “It is the economy, stupid.” I say, Afrikans have to focus on the state of their minds, stupid. It is from where they were/are manipulated by kings, chiefs, missionaries, colonials, prime ministers, presidents, Arab slave traders, and what have you.
Whatever your reason is for visiting here a few times it is because you convinced yourself that I have one or two nuggets of ideas, or that I am real—not a fake, or maybe interestingly stupid to warrant another visit. It is all in your mind.
Take the Christian religion; it says you should eat the body of Christ and drink his blood. If we had any sense, why didn’t we tell the missionaries that we were not cannibals to eat somebody and drink his blood? Of course, by then they had already convinced our minds they knew better, and we should just obediently follow.
37 times in the Bible Joshua, (aka Jesus) says he is a man—the son of man, just like the rest of us. The only difference from the average Joe was that he had an exceptional use of his mind to connect to the Truth—the Truth that is the universal all-goodness.
So, all these preachers living large on your money do so because you have surrendered your mind to them to enter your pocket. The really successful leaders of all sorts do so because they have learned to use their minds at an elevated frequency that connects to the ordinary Joe, or scares opponents, or both.
We often hear the refrain: You can be what you want to be. I will add: You can be what you have convinced your mind you want to be.
Whatever your reason is for visiting here a few times it is because you convinced yourself that I have one or two nuggets of ideas, or that I am real—not a fake, or maybe interestingly stupid to warrant another visit. It is all in your mind.
Take the Christian religion; it says you should eat the body of Christ and drink his blood. If we had any sense, why didn’t we tell the missionaries that we were not cannibals to eat somebody and drink his blood? Of course, by then they had already convinced our minds they knew better, and we should just obediently follow.
37 times in the Bible Joshua, (aka Jesus) says he is a man—the son of man, just like the rest of us. The only difference from the average Joe was that he had an exceptional use of his mind to connect to the Truth—the Truth that is the universal all-goodness.
So, all these preachers living large on your money do so because you have surrendered your mind to them to enter your pocket. The really successful leaders of all sorts do so because they have learned to use their minds at an elevated frequency that connects to the ordinary Joe, or scares opponents, or both.
We often hear the refrain: You can be what you want to be. I will add: You can be what you have convinced your mind you want to be.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
When a Drunk "Lieutenant" Bob Hit a Drunk Munyankole
This story would be comical if it weren’t serious. It is a true story that involved some people I know.
My friend called me up telling me about her brother having hit a pedestrian and was now in police custody. She said that the previous night her brother, the dark horse of the family and a good-for-nothing unemployed young man, took her car without authorization and went out on the town. On his drunken way back he hit another young man. He bundled the victim up, shoved him into the car, and took him to the police station accusing him of having hit his windshield with a large object. At the police station he (my friend’s brother) said he was a lieutenant from Makindye. An alert police officer, however, sensed something was not right. So, he called up Makindye telling them that he had a named “officer” in an accident. Makindye did not know of an officer called Bob for purpose of this story. The police officer then traced up the car to my friend and called her up. This is when hell broke loose for Lieutenant Bob. He was soon bundled up and put in police custody, and the hit victim released.
My friend is a hardcore survivor in the dog-eat-dog Uganda. By the time we got to the station she had already come to some tentative terms—Uganda style— with the police. She tagged me along because money was going to be involved, and she calculated I would be an asset.
The police station was a ramshackle affair in one of the populated outskirts of Kampala. We sat under a tree. Soon a police officer came and greeted us, and said he was expecting the victim soon. Since he was not in uniform I assumed he was a detective. He sounded intelligent, and I wondered why he would resort to such a shady deal.
In about thirty minutes the victim arrived. He looked forlorn and a far cry from many of the people from his part of the country who dominate the news. The police officer pressured him to accept a certain amount of dough which, after about an hour of haggling, he finally accepted. He signed a prepared document, effectively forfeiting any future claims of damage, got his money and left.
Matters were not complete yet. The handler of the case, besides the officer we were dealing with, supposedly needed something for his efforts. Once everyone was taken care of, my friend’s brother emerged from the station. I did not even hear him say “thank you” to his sister.
There is a line from a notorious white headmaster that was handed to us from seniors: Uganda is corrupt from top to bottom. The headmaster reigned in the 60s, and some of those making major decisions in Uganda now were his students. Did they learn anything? And what example are they giving to the police officer who earns pittance? He eateth where he worketh--a saying I heard from someone. Buturo is just wasting space and time since he has no power to rein in his errand colleagues who set bad examples.
My friend called me up telling me about her brother having hit a pedestrian and was now in police custody. She said that the previous night her brother, the dark horse of the family and a good-for-nothing unemployed young man, took her car without authorization and went out on the town. On his drunken way back he hit another young man. He bundled the victim up, shoved him into the car, and took him to the police station accusing him of having hit his windshield with a large object. At the police station he (my friend’s brother) said he was a lieutenant from Makindye. An alert police officer, however, sensed something was not right. So, he called up Makindye telling them that he had a named “officer” in an accident. Makindye did not know of an officer called Bob for purpose of this story. The police officer then traced up the car to my friend and called her up. This is when hell broke loose for Lieutenant Bob. He was soon bundled up and put in police custody, and the hit victim released.
My friend is a hardcore survivor in the dog-eat-dog Uganda. By the time we got to the station she had already come to some tentative terms—Uganda style— with the police. She tagged me along because money was going to be involved, and she calculated I would be an asset.
The police station was a ramshackle affair in one of the populated outskirts of Kampala. We sat under a tree. Soon a police officer came and greeted us, and said he was expecting the victim soon. Since he was not in uniform I assumed he was a detective. He sounded intelligent, and I wondered why he would resort to such a shady deal.
In about thirty minutes the victim arrived. He looked forlorn and a far cry from many of the people from his part of the country who dominate the news. The police officer pressured him to accept a certain amount of dough which, after about an hour of haggling, he finally accepted. He signed a prepared document, effectively forfeiting any future claims of damage, got his money and left.
Matters were not complete yet. The handler of the case, besides the officer we were dealing with, supposedly needed something for his efforts. Once everyone was taken care of, my friend’s brother emerged from the station. I did not even hear him say “thank you” to his sister.
There is a line from a notorious white headmaster that was handed to us from seniors: Uganda is corrupt from top to bottom. The headmaster reigned in the 60s, and some of those making major decisions in Uganda now were his students. Did they learn anything? And what example are they giving to the police officer who earns pittance? He eateth where he worketh--a saying I heard from someone. Buturo is just wasting space and time since he has no power to rein in his errand colleagues who set bad examples.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Does Tribe Matter?
At the dawn of Uganda’s Independence a suave electrifying Prime Minister from the North wedded a Southerner. Was it a love bite? Was it political? Or was it both? Nevertheless, soon the educated, the soldiers, the prison warders and the policemen hailing from the North followed in the prime minister’s—later the president’s—footsteps.
Today the products of those marriages have come of age, and some of them are playing front-row seats in the country’s conversations.
First, let us jump across the pond to the US of A where the product of a brief union between an African tribesman and a European tribeswoman has suddenly become a world’s superstar. His mixed-tribe background, coupled with a keen intellect, helped him build a successful coalition to win an election, uplift the spirits of his nation and the world. As he jokingly referred to himself as a mutt, can our local mongrels equally bring together the North-South divide to work towards a common goal? Put another way; are these mutts the answer to the vexing downsides of tribe/race? Or is the Obama phenomenon just a coincidental random occurrence leaving us still with the question: does tribe matter?
Tribe should matter in culture as it adds to the tapestry of music, language, beauty and other qualities that makes the world richer. Imagine a world where most Acoli have become mongrels having had Bagisu or Banyarwanda mothers who have not encouraged the finer art of Larakaraka dance. The world would be cheated of a vibrant seductive music and dance that has pulsated the hearts of many of our fellow homo sapiens.
To say that tribe should not matter is to say that family, community or nation should not matter. The problems that arise from tribe are the same problems that are emblematic of conflicts between families, communities and nations—greed, hate, bad faith, chauvinism—just plain evil. And so, while pretenders speak of and use laws against what they call sectarianism, they stack key positions of government with their own tribe. A good faith effort would have been to recognize tribal tendencies—even from revolutionary liberators—and work towards practical solutions.
Well packaged, this Acoli Lukeme music and dance could contribute to World Peace through aerobic exercise from Beijing to San Francisco!
Today the products of those marriages have come of age, and some of them are playing front-row seats in the country’s conversations.
First, let us jump across the pond to the US of A where the product of a brief union between an African tribesman and a European tribeswoman has suddenly become a world’s superstar. His mixed-tribe background, coupled with a keen intellect, helped him build a successful coalition to win an election, uplift the spirits of his nation and the world. As he jokingly referred to himself as a mutt, can our local mongrels equally bring together the North-South divide to work towards a common goal? Put another way; are these mutts the answer to the vexing downsides of tribe/race? Or is the Obama phenomenon just a coincidental random occurrence leaving us still with the question: does tribe matter?
Tribe should matter in culture as it adds to the tapestry of music, language, beauty and other qualities that makes the world richer. Imagine a world where most Acoli have become mongrels having had Bagisu or Banyarwanda mothers who have not encouraged the finer art of Larakaraka dance. The world would be cheated of a vibrant seductive music and dance that has pulsated the hearts of many of our fellow homo sapiens.
To say that tribe should not matter is to say that family, community or nation should not matter. The problems that arise from tribe are the same problems that are emblematic of conflicts between families, communities and nations—greed, hate, bad faith, chauvinism—just plain evil. And so, while pretenders speak of and use laws against what they call sectarianism, they stack key positions of government with their own tribe. A good faith effort would have been to recognize tribal tendencies—even from revolutionary liberators—and work towards practical solutions.
Well packaged, this Acoli Lukeme music and dance could contribute to World Peace through aerobic exercise from Beijing to San Francisco!
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