Jump On, Happy Now

How do! / 你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

I recall Mr Jones at Chapel Street Primary School making a simple poem. It was wordplay on my name John. Jump on, happy now. So simple. So memorable. Like other school events. When I was young, our class went to Mam Tor and the Blue John Cavern in Castleton, Derbyshire. I remember very little other than giggling at the name Blue John. The cavern is named after a semi-precious mineral Blue John. The 250 million years old was and is mined for the purposes of jewellery. The cavern sits beneath Mam Tor, a rather tall hill, a 517-metre (1696ft) peak of the world famous Peak District. I never picked up any fluorite (with bands of a purple-blue or yellowish colour) but I do recall the French name of bleu-jaune (blue-yellow). So, my name went from blue to yellow. In China blue movies are called yellow movies.

Our class had walked the 4.8km up (3 miles) from a car park, where our coach awaited. In misty wet conditions we returned, a little soggy. The views across the Edale Valley and Kinder Scout were wasted on us. It was completely shrouded by clouds. The Derwent Moors were less than visible. We even walked to another cave, Windy Knoll, but the entrance was covered by loose rubble. That was invisible to us too. Still we’d climbed up the peak that means ‘Mother Hill’. The brittle shale and so-called shivering mountain also left us shivering in the damp and cold too. As our teeth chattered a teaching assistant rambled on about Bronze Age and Iron Age forts. To kids in a field, drenched head to toe, he mustered zero enthusiasm. We all had ideas of using the caves (Speedwell Cavern, Peak Cavern A.K.A. ‘The Devil’s Arse’ and Treak Cliff Cavern) as a kind of natural umbrella.

So, that was my first time to see the name John in a strange place. Our primary school used to have three Johns. John O’Neill and John Doherty, with myself. Recently, I played football with John Burns and John Crompton. My surname is Acton. So, here in China, we had John A, B and C at Murray’s F.C. It isn’t an unusual name. John is Jewish, or was. It coms from a word meaning ‘Graced by Yahweh’ – a kind of Samarian God. Jack, Jackie, Johnny and Jonathan all come from the name John. Jackie Chan is a wannabe John. also comes from the name John but as a Manchester City striker, I can’t take responsibility for him, and nor should the name John. Johns can be equally good or bad. Everton, not the football team, but the name also comes from the name John. Being a very biblical name, John has been mutated and transpired into Celtic (Ianto), Germanic, Romance, European, Arabic (يُوحَنّا‎), Hungarian, Albanian (Xhoni), Slavic (Ján) and other forms. One of the most common names in English-speaking countries is sticking around hard and fast.

Yahweh is or was a storm-and-warrior deity which explains why I like the rain a fair bit. That and being Mancunian – it’s a kind of Stockholm syndrome. Here in China, as the Dongguan rain lashes down, I can write Yuēhàn (约翰) into my phone to produce a local version of my name that sounds more German than Chinese. My Korean student Kim could write my name as Yohan (요한) and my Japanese student Leon could write my name as Yohane (ヨハネ). Then there are countless feminine forms around the world such as Jone, Johanna, Ghjuvanna and Sinéad.

John is mentioned countless times throughout religion, with the Gospel of John, First through to Third Epistles of John and the Book of Revelation by a certain Saint John the Divine scribbling something down. There were no blog pages in his time. Apocalypses have remained popular in fiction and non-fiction ever since. Well, until the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic. Gospel of John was the third sequel to the Gospel of Matthew. Mark and Luke were the other members of the Gospel boyband. The Gospel of John has much prattling and something to do with the raising of Lazarus and contrasts Judaism. It’s probably where Christianity broke away, circa AD90-110. Three faith-raising sermon letters (epistles) of John followed much like the Fast & The Furious franchise.

“Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator. Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator. Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator. Wrote the book of the seven seals” – John the Revelator, Blind Willie Johnson

Many kings and queens have taken on the various forms of the name John through time, with prophet John the Baptist (died 30AD-ish), John the Apostle (one of a dozen). John the Evangelist (an author type), John of Patmos (the Revelator/the Divine), John the Presbyter (open to interpretation), another John (father of Saint Peter etc), John of Antioch (a chronicler which is a kind of news reporter of the time), umpteen Pope Johns (at least 21 of them), and several Saint Johns. There are Saint John churches and places as diverse as Cornwall (a parish village with the nearby St John’s Lake SSSI), Malacca in Malaysia, the capital city of Newfoundland and Labrador and even the Church of St John-at-Hackney. Wherever a boat could sail, and a missionary could set up a parish, that’s where the name has reached. If you don’t believe me, take a glance at the maps of Antigua and Barbuda, Barbados, Dominica and Grenada. Oh, and there are ambulances displaying the saintly name: St. John Ambulance. Mighty Mouse was even a St. John Publications comic character.

Nicknames involving Johns area round us too. My Dad had a friend who was nicknamed ‘John the Ghost’ because of his pale look and I think had a few near misses with death in hid life. John the Hunchback isn’t as famous Quasimodo. Being a General and Politician in Roman times on the flanks of the Eastern Roman Empire wasn’t quite as romantic as being the protagonist of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. John “the Savage” features in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. John “OO” Fleming is a trance D.J. and his music could be heard on a portable speaker sat atop your very own Johnboat (an aluminium hunter-fishing boat). My mate John Petrie shares the name of Arbroath F.C.’s striker extraordinaire – he scored a record 13 goals in a 36-0 win. That’s something to mull over as you listen to former Meat Loaf and Marilyn Manson guitarist John 5. There are countless Johns to plug: I mentioned John Rabe and John Nichols before.

Whether in a campaign, a B-side on a Kylie Minogue with Robbie Williams song, a Giant Cave of Gilbratar, the John’s Langur (Semnopithecus johnii), a famous New York pizzeria, archaic phones, or a show about Tourette’s syndrome, the name John can be used for good or bad. Fritz John made an ultrahyperbolic partial differential equation that carries the name John’s equation. It was pretty bad for my eyes to see it and understand very little of it. Not all Johns make sense. I know that I don’t.

“Be thine own palace, or the world’s thy jail.” – ― John Donne, The Poems of John Donne (Volume 1)

The name John is popular in many ways. Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 from the video game Halo wasn’t an ideal role model for me but he did accompany far too many adolescents through early development blasting the hell out of crazy religious Covenant alien radicals. Almost as great as sending a Dear John letter to tell your loved one that they are a former loved one and now you have a new loved one. Writer Philip Jerome Quinn Barry wasn’t a John but in 1927 the New Yorker published his play called, yes, you guessed right, John. That play was unsuccessful. Bad John. Lil’ Wayne (2011) and Desireless (1988) didn’t write their songs of the same name, based on P.J.Q. Barry’s failed play. They sold around 2 million and 313,000 respectively.

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” – John Milton, Paradise Lost.

Other odd uses of the name John can mean someone who uses a prostitute, slang for a toilet (cheers America!), tropical storms and hurricanes, and there are about 13,400,137 Johns in the U.S.A. at any one time. That’s about one in every 25 Americans. On the flipside, John the Ripper is a program used to test the strength of a password. In Morse code John looks like this: .——….-. (which may be useless in the digital age). John Lennon and John F. Kennedy didn’t get any Morse code message of their fate. John R. “Johnny” Cash is one of my favourite Johns, in terms of talented Johns. John Paul Henry Daniel Richard Grimes is not.

Bizarrely the names Eoin, Evan, Yohannes, Ifan, Ioane, Hermes, Siôn, Janes, and Núño have origins in the name John. Jhon is also a real name. I guess somebody couldn’t type or spell, and it stuck. John has grace the rich and famous with numerous kings, Elton John, the late huge-nosed Gottfried John, Dame Olivia Newton-John and (was it personal?) R&B singer William Edward “Little Willie” John having a certain name. That 24-bar blues song Leave My Kitten Alone is so underrated. The Beatles and Elvis Costello copied it at some state too.

“Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter” – John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems

The name John is classic. It is a natural and wholesome formal name, refined and well at home in history and equally strong for the present day. It can represent the boring aspects of name history and the simple yet serious mature look of a person. Whether the name represents an author or an actor in Downton Abbey, the name John could likewise be a Canadian prime minister or a character in DC comics. John can be legend or literature, musician or theologian. The name John was once consistently popular in one of its many forms. Now newer names and international culture are heavily influencing naming across the globe. The name John, however, will not fade away.

Johnny Marr is from Manchester and spent some of his years in Ardwick. He probably wasn’t far from another famous John in Manchester. All of the above writing could easily have been a huge and tedious introduction to Manchester’s famous John Dalton. Born in Cumberland at a place called Eaglesfield (by Cockermouth), John Dalton headed for Manchester. He would go on to be a hugely influential chemist, physicist, and meteorologist. He made huge contributions to atomic theory research, the study of colour blindness and dissenting educationalists from church-backed establishments. He was radical.

Buried under Ardwick’s playing fields (former cemetery), Dalton’s legacies are far more than a statue-bust in Manchester’s town hall. The John Dalton Building of Manchester Metropolitan University houses the Faculty of Science and Engineering. There’s a statue of John Dalton outside. John Dalton Street connects Deansgate and Albert Square in central Manchester. There’s a bleu plaque at 36 George Street, his former residence. Dalton published many pieces including work on the Law of Multiple Proportions, Dalton’s Law of Partial Pressures, Daltonism (also known as colour blindness). He earned his Royal Medal amongst many plaudits and lived to study and research. Nowadays his name lives on through such terms as Dalton (S.I. unit), Daltonism, and the Dalton Minimum. The latter was a period of low sunspot count, representing low solar activity, possibly much like the City of Manchester’s exposure to sun at the peak of winter, right?

“John Dalton’s records, carefully preserved for a century, were destroyed during the World War II bombing of Manchester. It is not only the living who are killed in war.” – Isaac Asimov, Writer & Biochemistry professor

Their gaff, their rules?

How do! / 你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

“If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.” – George Washington

Before I write any more, firstly, I need to clarify that I hate the idea of animals suffering. Actually, it forms one of the reasons why right now I do not have a pet. If I cannot be certain where I will live within twelve months, how can I look after a cat, dog or hamster? I’ve been lucky enough in my life to be raised around animals. My Dad and Mum gave me Pup, who was with me for about 17 years of my life as man’s best friend, a wonderful dog. There were cats along the way, Basil (think of a detective that was a rodent), Sparky and Tigger (original, right?). I had umpteen hamsters: Bright Eyes, Stripe, Gizmo and Gremlin to name but a few. Astrid, my sister, will tell you of her hamster Doris, and how she selected it on the basis that it bit her bigger brother (me) in the pet store. There were mice, bred and rehoused, with responsible intentions. I had fleeting dreams of being a vet – but for a huge dislike of blood. Then, it was time to study a BTEC National Diploma at North Trafford College and eventually study a BSc Behavioural Biology. Since then, my wildlife and animal passion has evolved into a pastime, set of interests and hobbies. The professional world was oversubscribed, underpaid and hard to escape clicks. It wasn’t for me. Instead I find myself softly influencing future generations and making people think twice.

“I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”- S.G. Tallentyre, The Friends of Voltaire.

Stumbling into education with transferable skills just meant I swapped elephant dung in the morning for a whole raft of new pooh. I’m in China, their gaff their rules. But I can talk freely about some topical issues. What is a wet market? Well, it’s just a marketplace that sells fish, meats, vegetables, and fruits. The produce is not dry (like fabric or electronics). The goods at wet markets are perishable. Not all wet markets slaughter animals or have a fishmongers. Across the Indian subcontinent (e.g. Thailand), China, Japan, Korea and the island countries northwest of Australia, wet markets can be found and are a common feature of daily life. Foods can be fresh, cheaper than supermarkets, and going to these markets themselves can be a huge part of your social life. It is tantamount to culture and traditions for many people. To close many wet markets may be seen as xenophobic and cause more problems. But, will these same wet markets yield the next outbreak?

Wang Mengyun’s video of a bat being eaten in Palau has become infamous. It is disgusting in my opinion. What adds further disgust is that RT and the Daily Mail, amongst many, posted this via news outlets and social media claiming it was from Wuhan. I was even sent it on the Chinese app Wechat. I’m not justifying or defending her, or any other fools eating weird crap. Data and images can easily fit any story, without, erm, actual information. Of course, if China is involved, then there’s always an element of menace and worry from a social point of view. What exactly are they up to over there?

The wet market here hasn’t reopened (and many will never reopen, as many are rumpured as marked for demolition, to be replaced by more sanitized versions) which is great. I’m actually excited for when it does because they have limited the list of edible species right down. You wouldn’t believe the list before. There was no list. It could have been likened to taking a walk in a zoo. Except, that zoo was closer to The Green Mile, and all the inmates were destined for the grimmest of chops. Owls, giant salamanders and frogs may not appear on the menu in Beijing, but across this large nation of China, there are huge differences in diets. Here in Guangdong, it is said that the Cantonese eat everything with four legs, excluding chairs and desks.

Afterall the list isn’t far off what is approved as meat in the U.K. The most exotic things are to be found all over Britain such as ostrich, deer, reindeer, alpaca etc. Sadly, the list still includes fur species: mink, foxes and raccoons. BUT activism and conservation are growing here. Thoughts are changing. Many influential and middle-class people really believe that bigger changes are coming. Conservation and animal welfare are some of the few things people can protest here. The WHO advised China to “sell safe food with better hygiene”. That seems to be triggering a huge revolution in hygiene. There’s revulsion at the rich who can afford palm civet soup, braised bear paws and deep-fried cobra. These rarities are not farmed or caught for everyone. There’s status and face to show off, and keeping up with the Joneses is on the menu. Rebecca Wong explains in her book about the illegal wildlife trade that things are far from simple.

The China Biodiversity Conservation and Green Development Foundation is pushing for an end to meats from wild sources. Many cities such as Shenzhen and several provinces are banning the sale of wild-sourced meats – yet China only has a temporary ban in place (and that excludes use for Traditional Chinese Medicines – T.C.M.). Is the ban effective? Well, The Daily Mail, managed to get images and a journalist into Guilin, Guangxi province and show dogs alongside cats, with T.C.M. posters showing bats. The W.H.O., the U.N.’s Convention on Biological Diversity, have called on China to do more.

China’s Wildlife Protection Law to permanently make catching and eating wildlife as a food into a criminal law will follow. The decision’s first real steps had been made on February 24th 2020. It is expected the list of 54 wild species bred on farms will be further reduced. Do people really need to eat hamsters and bird of prey? Do these horrific farms need abolishing? Does the farm license from The State Forestry and Grassland Administration conflict with their interest in wildlife protection? Places like Guangzhou and this province of Guangdong will need to seriously rearrange their eating habits. Chinese news sources, backed and owned by the state, have decried the practice of eating wildlife. One such piece, China Daily, went further than most with an English opinion piece by author Wu Yong. He correctly pointed to the Institute of Virology of the Chinese Academy of Sciences (home base: Wuhan) and their publications warning of the next big outbreak, following SARS in 2012. There are voices from within China banging a drum to the same beat: stop eating wildlife (50% of people surveyed in 2014 said wild animals should not be eaten). And should the laws come how vague will they be? How will provinces, cities and local areas enforce the laws? Who will steady the balance books of those who need the income?

“Without freedom of thought, there can be no such thing as wisdom – and no such thing as public liberty without freedom of speech.” – Benjamin Franklin

It is easy to say that wild animals carry viruses, and should they not be eaten by people, then there is little to no chance of these zoonotic viruses affecting human lives. If we do, then the viruses are with us. But, how many viruses start on farms from long-term domestic animals? Think Pandemic H1N1/09 virus and its outbreak from Mexico/U.S.A. in 2009 that killed about 151,700-575,400 people globally, according to the CDC. The problem is that for some their eyes are bigger than their bellies. They don’t want you and I, or others telling them what is right or wrong. For some status and entitlement is paramount. Why can a rich U.S. hunter go and shoot a lion in Africa, when a poor villager can’t catch pangolin in Vietnam to support their family? Will bans work? Will the trade go from loosely regulated to completely underground shady dealings? “Psst, wanna but a civet?” What is a civet anyway? I imagine many having seen a pangolin too. Look them both up. They’re wonderful little critters. Just don’t grill them!

“It is clear that not in one thing alone, but in many ways equality and freedom of speech are a good thing.” – Herodotus

China has endured food safety scandals, unusual additives being included in food, a distrust of food regulation, corruption and countless public health appeals and campaigns seeking to improve standards. If you live here long enough, you’ll know having diarrhea tablets to be most useful. Food poisoning happens and at public ad even private restaurants, finding hand soap can be a miracle. Everyone carries hand sanitiser and tissues, but few look forwards to visiting an outside toilet. To get to the modern regulation systems of the U.K. standards, the U.K. under the name of Great Britain and its Empire had many flaws and faults. Many want change but it will take time. Not every country is perfect, some wash their chicken in chlorine, don’t you America? Tradition and odd ingredients need talking about, at least. Without conversation and debate, how can we as people strike a balance between nature and need?

This pandemic is always going to throw up many questions. Should all wet markets adapt and abandon tradition in favour of hygiene and high standards? Yes, for the sake of humanity, surely! Should we be searching for the next big pandemic? Should we be vaccinating our pets and our zoo animals when the cure to COVID-19 arrives? Will the virus replicate and mutate in other domestic animals? Have we ignored the warnings (2017 and so on) for too long? Will wildlife poaching rise in the shadow of little eco-tourism? How many more lies will the internet spread about handwashing?

“We have to go see Bill Gates and a lot of different people that really understand what’s happening. We have to talk to them, maybe in certain areas, closing that Internet up in some way. Somebody will say, ‘Oh, freedom of speech, freedom of speech.’ These are foolish people. We have a lot of foolish people.” – Donald Trump, Twitter user.

Keep talking. It’s the only way to progress.

 

The cover image: chicken anus on a stick. From a Taiwanese takeaway store, in China.

 

The new norm.

How do! / 你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

The plague of the 21st century isn’t locusts or bubonic. Not at all. It is lies, rumourmongering and misinformation.

If I was to state that taking antihistamines for hay-fever will help your rheumatoid arthritis, I’d be right up there with Doctor P.O.T.U.S.A. Trump. I’m fairly certain, by his instinctive logic, a sticker plaster (band-aid) may heal a lost limb. Hydroxychloroquine is a mouthful to say, let alone take. Trump loves to say hydroxychloroquine. I think his instinct about the drug is overshadowed by his pride in the ability to say this long word. In my instinct, I think this psychopathic P.O.T.U.S.A. is enjoying every utterance of the drug’s name. “What have you to lose? Take it,” said the man claiming common sense wins him the right to issue medical advice. Trump tweeted about it, with 103,400 re-tweets and 386,900 likes, so at least nobody noticed him and won’t have to worry about the possible side effects list (four patients had liver damage and one patient severely worsened in Trump’s favoured French study – so from twenty, 25% had big problems).

The losses are probably higher than reportable. Doctors and nurses will have been approached about the miracle drug. Imagine all that lost time. Drug therapies are in their infancy because this new virus and the COVID-19 that it causes are only just being researched. As outbreaks go, it is a baby. Malaria and SARS CoV-2 are not that closely related. Twenty patients tested in France, in uncontrolled circumstances alongside another drug azithromycin, was inconclusive. Only a few patients shown a positive response. Like many other studies, things are in their infancy. But, remember, that as one drug becomes popular, its demand rises, and those who truly need it – battling malaria or for other uses may be short. And, what happens when the drug kills? Always use hydroxychloroquine responsibly.

There is a huge distrust of China globally.  The internet age revolution is finally being eclipsed by a very grey area of lies, untruths, and extreme bias. People like Jack Patrick Dorsey (Twitter CEO/co-founder) don’t ban far-rights and extremism of views. They believe in freedom of speech – at the supression of protecting everyone else from extreme views. Didn’t he and Twitter learn about World War 2? Because, should such a person do so, then populism, as needed by Trump (the P.O.T.U.S.A.) would have no secure place in our world. Fake temperature devices, faulty goods, corporate espionage, 5G battles, cybersecurity, and other such exposes are leaving China in a different light for many. Over here in China, I can see Chinese channels and media slamming the U.S., Taiwan (funded by the U.S.; and funding Hong Kong’s resistance?), Britain’s fragmented and gradually anti-Chinese stance. It’s a horrible place to be for an expat in China, knowing that one word wrong by one politician could ruin six years of working here.

Some guidance had been set by China on managing the virus, but has enough been done to understand how this drug and virus react together? The NHS now has several trusts giving trial to it. Everywhich way you look, there are many hoping to find the cure. We all look on and hope. Remember normality and a regular daily life? Wouldn’t it be nice to be there. I’m over here in China and yet I can’t see it. Not yet.

There is guidance knocking around W.H.O. on what to do, after relaxing lockdowns. The biggest point is that transmission should be controlled. China is definitely doing that! Even after quarantine, I have 14 days of temperature checks, swabs before I restart work (alongside all the staff and students), and a QR code showing a green tick to show that I am apparently clear of the dreaded buggy virus. Every supermarket and restaurant must check me, and all others on the way in. Any hint of too high a temperature and there is no admittance – and probably a report to the authorities.

Today, the Police and garden/village management took my details and gave me a form to fill in. On the other hand, today, I’d walked past a guy without a mask on, sneezing his cloud of nasal blobbery into the air. Oh, and a dozen others coughing out of masks. Even a twinge of my muscle or a slight hint of exhaustion and I worry. Anxiety is my bedfellow. Luckily China’s health system capacities are detecting, testing, isolating and treating as it suppresses this beastly vile virus. The essential places are being re-opened but by bit, yet cinemas stand empty, many shops and restaurants have gone for good and the country has severely controlled flights out of China: one airline, one country, once a week… so please don’t ask my summer plans and what I plan to do after this contract at this school. The only one thing I want to do, is see my loved ones, my family and my close friends – but I will not be coming home, endangering them now or later. It is time to stay home (or The Winchester), stay safe and save lives… and wait for this to all blow over. Or Chernobyl to burn and cause a global nuclear problem. Perhaps they’ll be a follow up series to HBO’s Chernobyl after all.

The virus outbreak has left many alone in their final hours but it has also gave many care in those moments too. It has left pets without homes and also gave many homes. Every exception, every aspect and every scenario seem to be at play now. Some are regional, some are national and some vary from culture to culture. Fear and humanity are battling. Art is out there in the shadows and beauty abounds, but the media and noise is loud. We mustn’t lose touch of who we are and what we are doing. What are you doing in the new norm? 

After quarantine.

How do! / 你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

 

After quarantine isn’t quite what I expected. I expected life to be much more difficult, but it isn’t. On arriving back to the garden compounds of my home apartment, I had my temperature checked, had a form filled in for me, and after maybe ten tense minutes, I was driven to my apartment door. Here I took the squeaky-clean lift up to my floor, opened the door, scanned a QR code and registered myself. That’s for the garden management, the local authority and the Police to know where I am. There was a form given to me, with 14 days on it, for my temperature but as I’d completed government-ran hotel quarantine and had a lovely certificate to show for it, I was exempted.

“If your smiling you’d better smile, for us all; If your laughing you’d better laugh, for us all; Well you better from now on; Yeah you better from now on” – For Us All, Levellers

Every day in quarantine, I thrashed my exercise out to several songs, one was For Us All, by the Levellers, alongside their track England My Home and many more! When the darkness drifted in and I felt myself so alone, I turned to music. I read the songs in my mind like fine books. I embraced the beats, the tempos and felt raw emotions like never ever before, perhaps enhanced by my temporary hermitage existence. The solitary confinement can’t be compared to that of a prisoner in a box of solitude, but for me, it was a personal struggle. I can be a loner of my own choosing, but this eremitic period of time has certainly convinced me that I will never be a true solitudinarian. More upbeat numbers of my childhood such as Sub Sub’s, Ain’t No Love (Ain’t No Use), and copious amounts of Black Grape (It’s your big day in the north, love…).

Outside, after a gentle jog (I felt knackered after doing less than 2km) and a brief wander to say hello ( and collect a medal from a colleague), I went to Kings Bar in Changping to enjoy pizza and a trio of beers (two IPAs and a stout from Master Gao brewery). I felt shattered and tired all night. It was good to be out, but emotionally it was a strain. I could see my colleague Gerry, wasn’t too fresh from quarantine too. There’s only so much conversation that you can have when you’ve both been stuck in a room for one, over 14 days. Luckily Kingston and Andy added to our nattering. The complimentary stout helped welcome us back – and was much, much appreciated.

“But it’s there to find if you have the mind; And you don’t live in fear of it…” – Men-an-Tol, The Levellers

Today, I went to a supermarket and a coffee shop. Temperature checks and all that were normal. The frequency of said checks in the supermarket was abnormal: four times. Yesterday, an old man spat towards me on the way to school. He shouted something towards me calling me American or something about America. Gerry had a car refuse to pick us up, and they messaged him with the word ‘poisonous’. It is fear and worry, no doubt, but it’ll go away, we all hope. This is not a time for hate and fear. That being said counterfeit testing kits and fake masks, scams, lies, pure hate, alleged W.H.O. bias, and xenophobia are fuelling a global atmosphere of hate and distrust. Fight I with love and support. The minority, the knobheads and the uneducated lowlife responses don’t represent us all – and increasingly many governments and politicians do not either. There’ll be a brighter day soon.

There is hope out there, amongst the gloom. UCI show us how the professional cyclists keep going; charities left, right and centre help those in need; research is making progress in finding a vaccine or helping to alleviate symptoms; footballers are throwing their money at the NHS too; and countless other goodwill moments. China is sending aid to many countries – sometimes to mixed responses. The Vatican had benefited, Pakistan too, Israel has, Spain (did but they were faulty), France also, similarly Greece and Italy likewise. Pick a region or country and you’ll find China has been helping, whether through government, enterprise or charitable donations. Many argue the W.H.O., U.N., U.S.A. and China working as one are key. Some argue that there isn’t enough input from one or the others; but Europe is increasingly receiving support from China. The U.S.A. appears to be extensively alienating itself. Canada and Mexico, its geographically closest neighbours aren’t exactly being encouraged. 3M were ordered not to export to Canada despite 3M receiving the bade components and materials. And, Mexico is always the brunt of a Trump border problem. Corona beer production in Mexico is on hold for other reasons.

Oh and my letter to Dongguan was published on the local Here! Dongguan magazine online channel. Right time to go eat a salad… homemade with sweet potato leaves and peanuts. Why not?

Visit Kathmandu 2020.

Sawasdeekhap / Namaste / Welcome!

I’m sat here, in Thailand, writing an chomping away on a bag of makok. These fruits come from the Spondias Dulcis flowering plant. They’re sour, and pickled ever so slightly. The tough flesh makes it feel like a beastly olive. I’ve had this fruit in curries before, and always wondered what it was. Now, I know, I like makok. Oh. That’s erm, awkward. I like to eat… No I can’t finish that. Makok is very… No, not there either. The sour pickled green ball is yummy. That’ll have to do. I bet it’d make a mean dip if the chunky seeds were removed. Just don’t name the dip.


 

Finally, I have got round to my time in Nepal this year. 2020 has been marked as Visit Nepal 2020, a concerted effort by the Nepal government to get overseas and overland visitors to bring their hard-earned money into the country – and experience ever-lasting moments that will tease visitors back time and time again.

The landscapes from valley to valley within Nepal can give you sensory overload. My experiences across two visits gave me a bombardment of sounds, sights, tastes and colours. The moment I left Nepal the first time, I wanted to return. This applied to the second time – and has since applied to this third time of visiting.

I touched down in Kathmandu, Nepal once more. This trek was to take in some of the Annapurna Circuit region. With prior knowledge of snowfall being heavy, I purchased some rusty looking blue crampons in the twisting narrow streets of Thamel. I’d enjoyed a great breakfast at the Northfield Café and a good night of sleep at the Northfield Hotel. I was excited and happy to be back in Nepal. My plan was simple. Go for a wander. No aims, no worries. Some passes and some mountains can’t always be seen. It is, what it is. Bumping into Srirang at The Café With No Name, he revealed his plan to trek the Annapurna Circuit with Livia, from Hungary. We’d all met last year trekking the Everest Base Camp route. I had no problems about joining them on the walk this time around. Srirang looked much leaner than last year. He must have been training hard in his native Mumbai city.

Armed with a great salad, and a wonderful pumpkin soup, I tucked into my Panini and enjoyed the feel of this wonderful backstreet café. A ginnel is the route to the small and atmospheric café. All the profits of The Café With No Name are sent to the charity Our Sansar – which benefits street children and brings them into education. Every great coffee or beer you have, benefits someone. That’s maybe why I decided to visit this place every lunchtime I had spend in Thamel, this time round. You can find it down a small alleyway. Look for a chalkboard when you face from the central supermarket looking in the direction of Purple Haze Bar. When you reach the bar, swing left and somewhere by Merry Hotel, you’ll find this treasure of a café. Expect to feel at home on the crate-made tables, and cosy furniture. There’re books to exchange and lots of things to make the eyes wander. The staff are great and so heartwarmingly friendly, it makes you want to live in Kathmandu. Perhaps the world’s dustiest city needs great retreats. This is one such wonder. Expect to feel a great musical vibe and return time and time again.

At Northfield café, that first morning, I sat with a beaming smile on my face. I enjoyed a good hearty breakfast, with the masala omelette filling my belly, alongside a strong coffee. The staff went to turn on the heater, but I was enjoying the cool air. Cold air sharpens the senses. It keeps your wits sharp. It helps me to focus. Heat makes me sleepy and sluggish. I sat watching people drift up and down the street outside. Few shops were open. Shutters sank and sagged to the ground like dull metallic cold blinds to the world beyond them. A few clear western people walked by. Some were spiritualists, hippies long off the bandwagon of Thamel’s once famous Freak Street, trekkers, climbers, cultural tourists and no doubt a few who reside in Nepal for work. There’d be some amongst them feeling enlightened, some caught in the ambience and many sponging up the vast cultures around them.

Looking at the headwear of those passing by, there were knitted ski hats, traditional and regional ethnic pieces, and an equally diverse array of jackets. Some combined with various pieces of formal office wear and others with striking multi-coloured knitted socks. Evidence of around 125 different people and 123 languages mingled with tourism and those from elsewhere. It all belonged perfectly. A tapestry of diversity in a wealth of colour. This intertwined nation coexists with such ease. Poverty and adversity sit only around the corner from the luxury cocktail bars and the bright lights of pocket-sized night clubs.

The tarmac road created less than two years ago, now looks swollen, crumbled and churned. Bits stand out here and there. A vintage Royal Enfield motorbike tackled potholes and narrowly missed  a static scout mannequin outside of a store proudly displaying Gurkha knives, the kukri. Khukuri World Store was a trove of gifts, memorabilia, and shiny things hoping to lure people inside. The scout model held out a Nepal flag, its beautiful triangles coated with the sun and moon, a combination of blue, red and white like no other flag. Next door to this knife and survival gear shop, a sprawl of 100% natural cashmere and yak wool piles spilled over two steps. The Friendly Pashmina Shop had so much stock, it was practically leant against the White Mountain Outdoors shop further along the row. Above which was a White Water Rafting Co., somewhere beneath layers of dust and soot. Dusty raincoats, sleeping bags and long puffy down jackets hung still, half admitting that they’ll never find a buyer anytime soon in that state. A ginnel (tiny pathway) into Nana Hotel looked uninviting between a sodden empty crates and Nepalaya Money Exchange. The shutters of Al Noor Gems revealed little indication of what treasures lay within. I guess even Indiana Jones would be put off by the rusting bulk of metal. The possibility of tetanus for the sake of some fool’s gold wouldn’t be a good gamble.

A hairdresser and the ATM cash machine tussled for space over a few cubic metres as the morning footfall started to increase. School children dressed in an array of uniforms drifted in small clusters or singularly up and down the road. A hooded man, slimmer than a twig, drifted amongst the crowd playing the sarangi (a string instrument) and trying to sell many of the same pieces from his sagging shoulder bag. Along the very same road, powerlines and cables draped the floor as workers fed neat replacements overhead, clearing years of cluttered dangerous cables. Trybal Handmade’s shop’s lights flickered in reply. A call for help and stable feeding. New life, please.

Inside the glass-window front of the restaurant and a little over the shoulder, a family sat enjoying their foods and drinks. The grandmother of the group made gratified noises as two younger women, perhaps in their forties, jostled food around their plates. Three young children ate quietly with great respect for their surroundings. They talked infrequently, warmly and softly, amongst themselves in what I believe was Urdu. I don’t know the language but I recognised one or two words. A smiling waitress with big beaming eyes came over to them and served them tea. The well-kept long hair spilled from her headscarf far beyond the rear of her waist. Her hand glittered with earthly coloured stones, natural and modest yet bold and fitting. The Northfield Café itself had warm earthly colours dominate the walls, and even a real tree trunk shot up through two floors and out of the roof offering a canopy of green amongst the buildings.

Effigies of door gods stand by the glass entrance doors. A piece of A4 paper is taped onto the inside of the door. It boasts of WARM DINING inside, without skimping on the use of capital letters. By now my omelette had vanished and a second cup of coffee had found its way into my hand. Three men joined the large respectful group. The conversation remained tender and calm. The younger children remained as attentive as I did to my coffee.

Two staircases within Northfield Café stretched upwards. Two lobbies spilled outwards giving an aura of space. The energy of the room had a seamless flow. My eyes strayed around the room enjoying the care and attention each member of staff gave to newly seated customers. Each patron matched the calm of the room. The staff both blended in and simultaneously made themselves available. Hidden servants of the spiritual rooms of Northfield Café. The very essence of the symbiosis within the walls. Just like the draw of Kathmandu, I was excited to be back in the Northfield Café once again.

Sticking to food, we visited Gilingche, a Tibetan restaurant, far too late in the day and ate far too much. I had to take a doggy bag home – and fed a dog. I’ve visited here a few times and always enjoyed it.

Following two days in Kathmandu and a few purchases, Srirang and I took a tiny taxi (enough room for knees by your ears), two bags and a squashed driver to the new bus station. Here we purchased our bus tickets to Pokhara. And with a ticket for 17:00 and being told it would take around 13 hours, we departed just after 15:00 and arrived less than 9 hours later. The bus had spent an hour loading with apples on an industrial estate within Kathmandu too. It stopped at the Dal Bhat Power restaurant, around half way – and the scenic route had weaved perilous mountains throughout the foothills of the Kathmandu valley and the lower Himalayan range all the way to the reasonably flat Pokhara area.


 

Visit Nepal 2020 has progressively barred visa on arrivals to many nations. China, as Covid-19 origin, copped for it first. Three missing Nepali guides and four Korean trekkers succumbed to a terrible avalanche that also saw hundreds of people rescued from the Annapurna Base Camp region. In 2014 alone, 40 people were killed on the Annapurna circuit in one sever snowstorm. Nature rules these ranges. Man (and woman) is a guest. On top of this Donald Trump and USA struck Iran’s top military brass with missiles, putting many under the impression that perhaps a global war would follow. Even days after I landed the tragic news of eight Indian tourists died in a room, probably from carbon monoxide poisoning. With a lack of flights, and mobility – or will to travel during a time of pandemic, Nepal’s tourism, imports and other support lines have shrunk. Hotels, trekking lodges, guides and other such avenues offered to overseas clients have receded faster than my hairline (in the last decade). The demand from these avenues to agriculture and industry will slim faster than a diet pill overdose. An already struggling country is facing yet more challenge. I witnessed Kathmandu on my return from Pokhara and the Annapurna regions. It was akin to that of a ghost town. Nothing much happening, but worry and fear. And on top of all this (and more), many have mocked the artistic interpretation of the yeti drawn up for the Visit Nepal 2020 campaign.

Rhino deaths, Nepal may struggle even further. Over half of the money, earned overseas by Nepali workers, comes from Qatar (think World Cup construction), the U.A.E., Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Bahrain. As the virus hits that region, Nepal has taken actions to keep its people safe and on Nepali soil. It was no surprise to see that Visit Nepal 2020 has been postponed until 2022. I hope to return for Visit Nepal 2022 – and maybe I’ll pop back in 2021, if time permits. But right now, humanity is battling. We must pull together.

But, first a cup of tea…

The Land of Make Believe

Sawasdeekhap / Namaste / Welcome!

There are videos and supposed news pieces all over the media. Us and them. Blame and hate.  No need for it. Time for togetherness and understanding. Some videos serve as propaganda for and against something or other. They are wide open to criticism and debate. How do we know the story is real or fake? They come on entertainment channels, news sources and social media. Believe half of what you see and nothing of what you hear. Don’t believe the truth.

For example, I am in a WeChat social media group called Dongguan Tube (deceptive as it isn’t round or a television channel). It has around 187 members. One member shared a video, shot facing the camera, wearing sunglasses, indoors. My first thought was that he wishes to remain anonymous. Then, I realized he used his DouYin (Tik Tik) account. That’s registered to a phone number and email address, and in turn to a national ID card for Chinese citizens or other. Then facial recognition sprang to mind. I watched his tirade, because right now, there are some interesting and some worrying self-narratives floating around the world. He claimed to be a victim of abuse by a customer from somewhere or other. To stress the point his language was careful, considerate and colourful. Now, was it true or not? I don’t know. I hope he wasn’t as distressed as he made out. There are bigger worries in life. On one hand you have a nationalistic believer in a great nation, as his right, having grown up under a strict ideology only recently influenced by the west. On the other hand, 186 people within the group could debate and argue their own opinions or views. None would be helpful. I use this as a loose example of the footage zipping around cyberspace.

There is hate everywhere. I’ve seen tinfoil takeaway boxes shaped into coffins. Many of us have seen Norwegians posting flags with stars shaped like a certain virus. Opinions, and art are okay, but how far do we go to upset people at a very sensitive time? Well it seems we go a little far, like almost all the way to the right. Hitler would probably like some of the stuff today if he had a Twitter account. I imagine Adolf would be as active on Facebook groups too, sharing some of the posts of the elected few from supposedly developed nations. That and possibly clicking on Youtube videos of dancing Germanic dog breeds.

Politicians and so called experts sling muck into an international emergency situation. Congratulations world, Covid-19 is officially a pandemic – alongside HIV which has been around for a long time on the pandemic list. Many argue that this new beastly virus isn’t the Spanish Flu that killed 50 to 100 million people over the course of three years. Most will agree that this has spread around the world almost with ease inside the space of a quarter of a year. Many fear it may be as bad as another round of the bubonic plague (still available in USA, I believe) and many argue it is just the seasonal flu. Smallpox was eradicated, measles is controlled in many countries, and tuberculosis ravages the developing world but is under great investigation. Research into every known disease and virus has been gradual and continuous since their initial understandings. Covid-19 is just a baby in a petri dish, compared with Hansen’s disease and malaria.

Meanwhile leader of China, President Xi was in Wuhan, as China battens down its hatches on imported virus cases. China reports that the cases have almost dropped away completely. Their methods to defeat the viral outbreak involved intense hand-cleaning propaganda, mobile apps, lockdowns and transport shut-downs. Quarantine in some places has lasted over 45 days. It hasn’t been perfect but it has been swift, aggressive and consumed gargantuan amounts of personal protective equipment. Some of which has been complex, psychological, and utterly heartbreaking – and totally preventable. China is no doubt battling the virus and making inroads into development of a cure – and looking at the cause, in terms of prevention. China, and any other nation battling the bug, will have no time for rumours of failed biological research as the cause – or a biological weapon dropped by a rogue nation. This isn’t time for fans of The Walking Dead or Mary Shelley’s The Last Man. Personally I prefer The Andromeda Strain, by Michael Crichton, over I am Legend (Richard Matheson’s novel was made into a Will Smith movie). Novels, like too many of the things shared in social media can be considered as fiction. It doesn’t help that the news shares lies.

Toxic newspaper and historical database of bullshit that has ruined communities and blamed innocent Liverpool fans for years, The Sun shared satellite images showing raised sulphur dioxide (SO2) levels claiming to be increased cremations (proven as wrong). The Express newspaper also did the same. Some places admit mistakes, and others just lie (5G, really?), or use sensational statistics (more deaths by snakes remember)  to blind people with mindless titles. Even Trump retweets manipulated media. He loves the word hoax so much, yet he was fooled by a hoax. A fitting yarn.

The worst thing for humanity would be a collapse of social systems, a mutation or a reoccurring wave after wave of this new virus. There could be drug resistance or sporadic outbreaks, like Zika virus and the Ebola epidemics. Superbugs are feared by the World Health Organisation (WHO) – the specialised agency of the United Nations set up to bring nations together and improve public health. The world’s economy is crashing but that will be little interest to those experiencing and battling to save lives. Money can wait. It has no use after life.

The current President of the USA (who maybe is hoping he doesn’t have the hoax virus) and many other so-called briefed experts are just like you and me. We’re all learning about this new disease and virus. The problem is there is too much white noise and too much panic. We can’t see the wood for the trees. And in once fire-ravaged Australia, then flooded, they’re panic buying toilet rolls. I should be okay, at present, I have a bum hose. Squirt. Squirt. Clean. However, I do worry, and I worry too much for family, friends and those I hold dear, because right now, we’re in an age when Presidents are unaccountable, and trigger fingers make it feel like the Wild West. There is dirt to be tossed, and someone always gets burned. Should we be more sociable or more selfish? Is it time to grab my football from the field and take it home making it game over for those playing? I think now, more than ever, let’s find a way to bring nations together and work away this mess, and then maybe afterwards look at the environment and other such global concerns. Or we could do a Trump and just look after number one. The choices are not always our own. Stay safe. Stay sane.

I’ll get off my soapbox – and at some stage write about my wonderful trekking experience around part of the Annapurna circuit from January to February.  Peace and love.

P.S. – Don’t buy The Sun

Happy New Year: MMXX

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste

MMXX is here. It sounds like a rapper. This year is a leap year. This all assumes that you and I follow the Gregorian calender – and the Common Era (CE: previously known as AD, year of the lord and all that). Other calenders and timelines are available.The Byzantine calendar is somewhere between the years 7528 and 7529. China’s calender is much more confusing. The years 己亥年 (Earth Pig) 4716 or 4656 to 庚子年 (Metal Rat) 4717 or 4657 with us. Ghostsbusters will return as a franchise, following the original two movies.

A new decade begins with hope (and fireworks, bushfires and other shameful carry ons from 2019). The Holocene calendar says 12020 but Unix time mentions the numbers 1577836800 – 1609459199. I’m going to keep 2020 in mind. It is far more simple. However, when I got to Nepal on the 18th of January, I will be landing in Kathmandu in the Nepali year of 2076 (according to Bikram Sambat’s calendar).

The U.K. is scheduled to leave the E.U. on the last day of this month. I will be relegated from a citizen of Europe to just a British person. It’s coming home was played at London’s slightly smoky firework displays (although the BBC coated over the smoke cloud) and this year will see England get knocked out at the UEFA Euro 2020 tournament staged across E.U. countries, and the U.K. Perhaps some Irish kids will open their 1996 time capsuleand pull out a copy of that song by The Lightning Seeds just in time for the football tournament. Or, it can also be used at Tokyo’s 2020 Olympics

This year NASA will aim to launch a mission to Mars to check out if it is habitable. Perhaps as the probe returns to Earth, it will find Earth is no longer habitable, as climate change and November’s Presidential Election may have swallowed up the last dregs of breathable air for humanity. However, Norway is paying Liberia to stop cutting down trees. A new hope?

As we enter the 2020s, keep in mind Morpheus from The Matrix said to Neo, “in the early 21st century mankind united in celebration when they created Artificial Intelligence”. Half-Life 2 is set around now, as was monster battling robot war movie Pacific Rim. Writer Ralph Peters penned that an alliance of Japan, South Africa, and the Arab Islamic Union, a confederation of militant Islamic states would be at war with the U.S.A. His novel, penned in 1991 was named The War in 2020. Snore-inducing dragon movie Reign of Fire also gave this year a dramatic post-apocalyptic science fantasy setting.  Terrahawks by Gerry Anderson and co, saw Earth defending itself. We should also beware the Knights of God, a fascist religious order with origins in 1987 television. But don’t worry too much Johnny Mnemonic is set next year. And in 2022, the gold from Fort Knox that Goldfinger said was useless, should be okay – the same year Geostorm is expected to hit. By 2029, the T-800 and a T-1000 will head back to kill either Sarah or John Connor, this giving a bodybuilder some work that will eventually lead him to be the 38th Governor of California. And finally, according to Data, the reunification of Ireland is achieved in 2024., Star Trek: The Next Generation (“The High Ground“). So, this decade isn’t all that bad!

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā

 

An impulsive and egotistical dictator?

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste

Is Boris Johnson closer to Churchill or that of Adolf Hitler?

One was an impulsive and egotistical dictator who would not allow anyone to stand against him. The other is Adolf Hitler. There are endless reasons (my own post) to oust Boris Johnson. I explained a few before. Now is as good time as any to carry on… let’s use the time-honoured bulletpoint format, because my time is limited – or I am lazy.

  • ATOS
  • 120,000 preventable deaths since 2010
  • Pensioners pushed into poverty – and unable to stay warm in winter.
  • A rise in children growing up in abject poverty conditions. Tax credits have been chopped.
  • Schools have had their budgets tightened.
  • Surge in hate crime.
  • NHS hospitals at breaking point – including a child sleeping on a hospital floor.
  • Flying on a private jet domestically despite a declared climate crisis.
  • Homelessness on the rise – and many are ex-forces or children!
  • A widening of an already large gulf allowing people onto the housing market. Just rent – or look for one of their 200,000 promised houses under construction, of which zero were built following their 2015 manifesto.
  • Forcing a customs border in the Irish Sea.Worker and consumer rights are being depleted.
  • What mental health care did this government boost? It has receded faster than my hair.
  • Postal voter? Not this time. Expat? Vote by proxy. Tax-paying EU citizen in the UK? Sorry, we can’t accept your vote.

Boris Johnson has been writing lies for year in the Telegraph. He has always feared a federal superstate in the E.U. This bastard lambasted single mothers. This absolute crook landed Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe, likely to be fully innocent in jail, in Iran, on spy charges. This fool has avoided question and answer sessions and cancelled on numerous appearances. He is selectively bending information and feeding the public disinformation and lies. He closed down parliament and is trying to impose new laws to ebb away our constitutional principle of parliamentary sovereignty. Isn’t that something that happened to a certain Weimar Republic in the 1930s?

Boris Johnson leads a party up against the wall with numerous accusations of Islamophobia. Is that what we really need right now? As Britain’s communities tussle and struggle against extremism and lack of opportunity, the vulnerable and lost souls of almost every religion will find someone with time to hate. The EHRC equalities watchdog have a job to do now. In fact his position of authority and his party tried to oust the Windrush generation. His party to intend to update the Human Rights Act – something that means exiting it, with just Belarus to accompany us outside that European club.

One of his own party members, and past Prime Minister John Major has unified with former Labour PM Tony Blair to sling Johnson out. As Johnson campaigns on ensuring Brexit goes ahead, he’s increasingly sounding more and more like someone possessed by the dark side in Star Wars. He blames Jeremy Corbyn and co for laughing at the public’s choice to vote a marginal referendum win in favour of an exit. Mussolini would be proud. He preaches to those who criticise Donald Trump for building a wall on the Mexican border. Yet, he is looking to divide the UK from Europe on a similar scale. The age old far of us and them is here and now.

Though, Boris Johnson, is the face amongst many MPs that are buffoonery on show, there is probably a very dark room with someone pulling strings. The enjoyable face of Boris bumbling and breaking all in his path is there to get the job done. Deep in the pits of the Conservative chambers and overlords will be where jeopardy and malice sit. That’s where the decisions to fire at will, or grind and slam people downwards, ever down, will come from. This would explain why keeping Johnson off air, saves him doing more damage – because as we have seen increasingly, a camera and a microphone allow Boris ample chance to ridicule himself. Banter he tries, lies and contradictions he shows. He pushes Brexit to be done. Game over. Move on. He can’t even justify any benefits of doing so, such is the lost cause that he promotes.

Boris Johnson and his Tory cronies even ripped off Dr Rosena Allin-Khan’s #ElectionActually video. I wouldn’t be surprised by anything that happens betwen now and the General Election on the 12th of December. It won’t be a happy Christmas for many…

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā

Pinochet, Mandela & Corbyn went into a bar…

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste

“At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi. At last we will have revenge.” Darth Maul – Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace

If you read newspapers such as The Sun, The Telegraph and The Daily Mail, you may have noticed a theme. Obviously, they serve the right wing of politics more than the left. In turn they influence mainstream media – and often they are backed by the BBC – a national service and institution rife with bias. It usually goes something like this: Jeremy Corbyn loves Hamas; Jeremy Corbyn hates Jews; Jeremy Corbyn likes the IRA; Jeremy Corbyn is friends with Hezbollah; Jeremy Corbyn ate my hamster. To many in the press and the established media, Jeremy Corbyn is a terrorist sympathiser. The same press may have spun a rhetoric of peace-loving Saudi Arabia with absolutely no mention of their use of British arms against civilians. News is replaced by opinion all too often. People read and watch it.

“People who dish out anti-Semitic poison need to understand: you do not do it in my name” – Jeremy Corbyn, BBC News, 4 August 2018

Terrorists usually have a reason for being nasty bastards. They’re often fighting for their ideals and their freedom. Sometimes they go overseas and inflict the worst of evils upon their chosen enemy. Often there is no clear black and white reasoning. The areas that those labelled as terrorists can be grey and unclear. Can a one-sided view be applied? Can we really just say that we oppose something or support something? What if one area overlaps the other? Che Guerava was okay, a little, right? Karl Marx was Jewish yet Corbyn likes him… how does that work?

The Conservative Party of today love slinging shit at Labour’s leader Jeremy Corbyn. They openly accept that General Pinochet and Margaret Thatcher was an acceptable friendship. They even rallied against his war crime convictions. A spot of Conservative whitewashing and overlooking of Nelson Mandela’s ANC because they were terrorists in the eyes of the Conservatives. Jeremy Corbyn and one-time Prime Minister Gordon Brown are known to have stood against apartheid. The Conservatives sent junior David Cameron (again a future Prime Minister) and others on a jolly piss-up to a fragmented South Africa. They offered nothing supportive and today they know little better. Perhaps they still wear their ‘Hang Nelson Mandela’ badges in private for old times’ sake?

If you oppose dropping bombs, suddenly you’re a terrorist sympathiser. Is talking with historically and aggressively anti-semitic organizations Hezbollah and Hamas so far-fetched? They must be engaged if any peace process or dispute can be brought to a conclusion. Obi-Wan Kenobe impersonator Jeremy Corbyn is against Britain’s nuclear deterrent Trident. That’s understandable if you prefer peace and love, over weaponry. Also, imagine the funding that would be made available for social and public services. Noodle munching Jeremy Corbyn may not be a warmongering wager of destruction, but he does seem to listen. He’s even entertained the idea that homeopathy needs more research. He acknowledges Cuba’s flaws – and those of Cuban President Fidel Castro, but he supports more international integration and commitment to global ties. And, Jeremy Corbyn is hit with libel, for no good reason, other than to tarnish his name – which the papers did give a later retraction. I mean, who actually watches the Queen’s speech these days, and who cares about if a leader of the opposition watches the speech?! One to watch, I guess.

“The death of Osama bin Laden was a tragedy.” – David Cameron, Conservative Party conference, 7/10/2015

The word terrorist has terror inside it for a reason. Terror invokes fear. Fear creates a fight or flight mechanism – and often the fight is in words or manipulation of words to influence people. The word terrorist is so strong that it makes us switch off. We only think of grim and horrid events. The September 11th attacks on New York and the Pentagon are some of the instant images. Such horror and fright as recent London Bridge attacks and pain. We no longer consider that one man’s terrorist may well be another man’s freedom fighter.

Manchester is no stranger to terrorism. The IRA detonated a bomb in June 1996, four years after a series of dangerous bombs. We received a refurbished shopping centre and it brought our city much closer together. The biggest bomb detonated in Great Britain since World War II ranked third in terms of economic loss. Thankfully nobody died. Around 212 people were injured physically and more psychologically. Russia played Germany at Old Trafford the next day. Manchester’s resilience was tested. Life went on. The IRA regretted causing injury. The day itself was horrible and fear gripped the city. Panic spread. As my family and I jumped on a train out of the city, a sparkling mushroom cloud hovered over the city. There was no wireless internet and mobile phones were few and far between. Car alarms rang through the shattered air and the sound of the blast still filled my head. We were all worried, not because of the bomb, but because we wanted to know where my Gran was. We’d been due to meet less than a mile from where the blast had happened. Thankfully Gran was at home safe and sound. In 1975 the Provisional IRA also bombed Lewis’s department store. The Troubles have passed their worst days, but these dangerous times could bring them back. Hate is growing. We must act against it.

On the 22nd of May 2017, I woke up to find news that Manchester had been attacked and many people were dead or injured. I cried. My head filled with dread. Little by little news emerged of the senseless and radical disgrace. More than 800 people faced hospital treatment. 22 innocent and beautiful lives were taken. They were all out at the Manchester Arena to enjoy music and arts, with Ariana Grande performing. From horror and shock, what followed was nothing short of pure love and care. Manchester found its heart torn open and agony its company, yet people from far and wide came forwards with love and support. Shelters, taxis, residents, hotels, temples and more opened their doors. The Muslim Council of Britain condemned the attacks. People listened and acted calmly on the whole. A five-fold increase in anti-Muslim hate crimes followed for a month but largely Manchester came together slowly and surely. Manchester – a City United.

“You cannot pursue peace by a cycle of violence” – Jeremy Corbyn, BBC News, 14 August 2018

“Freedom fighters do not need to terrorise a population into submission,” former U.S. President Ronald Reagan told the American people in a 1986 Radio Address to the Nation. In that same realm of thought, the media and news reporters don’t need to sling so much shit and accusations of terrorism sympathy about potential future leaders? Isn’t sitting down with the other side, or all concerned groups a way to understand? Don’t we need more dialogue to stop airstrikes on hospitals in far off lands? Didn’t we as a nation have Sir Winston Churchill speak bolding about fighting on beaches, in our streets and never ever giving up? Is guerrilla warfare justifiable and objective if you have a cause and belief? Or should you submit to those who walk over you? Should we question who is the real terrorist? Who defines them?

“Roof it again. Batten down. Dig in. Drink out of tin. Know the scullery cold, a latch, a door-bar, forged tongs and a grate.” – Lightenings, a poem by Seamus Heaney (read by Mr Mack to our secondary school class at Reddish Vale Technology College after the bombing in Manchester – to show that whilst some people can do bad things, the great things need more time in the eye of the people)

Language is a powerful thing – and with the power of language we must be accountable and responsible. There is no need for hurling manure in this day and age. It is cheap and populist. It is divisive and causes acrimony. If you’re going to represent the people, at least do it fairly. Using their language of fear is a terror in itself.

“No, not death: birth.” – The Satanic Verses – a  novel by Salman Rushdie.

So, is Jeremy Corbyn really the enemy? I won’t preach. I’ll let you think.

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā

Identify yourself.

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste

Identity is a simple enough word. Defined as the fact of being who or what a person or thing is. It can also be used as a different noun to mean a close similarity or affinity. There are mathematical definitions, but I’ll leave that for someone else, and somewhere else. The words origin has evolved since early Latin to Late Latin and fits well within present day English. 

Late 16th century (in the sense ‘quality of being identical’): from late Latin identitas, from Latin idem ‘same’.

Identity is something that we all engage throughout life. We identify as being X, Y, or Z. Whilst those who study and compile dictionaries identify themselves as lexicographers, some of us who just love words, are more like word friends. Samuel Johnson Jr. was America’s first noted Lexographer. The former school teacher was around at the same time as a certain British lexicographer Dr. Samuel Johnson, yet they were not related. They were both teachers who shared a passion for words and have greatly influenced the modern landscape that we use. Two different Johnsons, each with versions of dictionaries that have lasted long into our times, in their effects and contents.

Social media sweeps over the internet now. Some would believe it to be positive, others like a rash. Some tribes embrace one platform such as Twitter, whilst others are wondering if MySpace is still around. With that we’re seeing more and more identity displays. Social groups can link together – or stand alone. These electronic identities can be seen, from outside, as dangerous, thrilling, friendly and/or useful. Personality can hide behind a mask or it can jump around, stamp its feet and make a song and dance. An age of electronic expression is sweeping from primary school kids with little phone-watches to adults with seemingly and endless amount of broadband allocation. Some revel in the labels of their electronic identity, whilst others find it disparaging and caustic.

Much is made of identity, whether it is gender identity, social identity or employment identity. Social castes, social levels and classes – they’re all going to influence you, right? Do you relate to those around you in a psychological level that is instinctive or free-thinking? How does nature and the weather affect you? What did you learn and did someone else learn this the same way? Are you idiosyncratic? Does your identity serve you good purpose?

What is an identity? Well, look inwardly. How do you see yourself? How do others view your self-image? How do they view you? How do you feel about your individuality? Are you a leader or a follower? Do you feel comfortable tucked away in the shadows or prefer an open stage with an audience? What condition is your self-esteem in? Intact, flagging, failing or absent? And, how do you adapt? Does your identity evolve with new interests or stay fixed on a one-way road? Do you tend to run against the flow of traffic? Do your aspirations tie in greatly to your character? Is your head full of dreams? What do you believe? What do they tell you to believe? What do they say and how does it affect you? Take a look at your ethnicity and those who surround you. Do you feel comfortable? Do you belong? Where do you fit in? Don’t forget your past.

Take some time to self-reflect. It isn’t always easy. So, why do so many people judge others? Only when you are fully self-aware and fully self-conscious can you understand yourself, but that doesn’t mean your parameters are copied and pasted onto someone else. Map and define what things are inside your head each day. Does it follow a pattern? How tall do you stand today? How did you get so confident? Why do you shy away? Who best represents you? Do circumstances call for you to be different? Or, should you run away screaming with hordes of like-minded fear-filled faces? How would you best end these sentences?

I am…; I want…; I need…; I must…; I have…; I cannot…; I like…; I hate…; I love…

How do you explore? Is not knowing something or not knowing how something will be, a sign of weakness? Is showing emotion a sign of self-confidence and strength of demonstration to others? Pride: an achievement or triumph that you have earned or something to be modestly squirreled away as a lonesome memory? Ready for flight or stand up and fight? A touch of foreclosure or hide away and show little interest?

For me I collectively identify myself as a Manchester City fan, a diehard but not someone as devout as those who travel to every away game or cup game. Logistics and life have dealt me a hand that does not allow such things. I’d also like to travel more but I am no traveller. Far from it. I like exploring and have ambitions to see Madagascar, Iceland, the Faroe Islands, Indonesia and New Zealand. Other places are on my to do lists, but not so concretely. It is what it is. I’ve travelled and some will say I have seen many places, but I know many more people who work and travel, yet here I stand, static in Dongguan, China. I’d say that I am political and have principles, but my notions can often find themselves silenced. Values and ideologies can take a backseat when dealing with bigger powers. We must all be pragmatic and a realist when the optimist and pessimist aren’t around on our shoulders.

With Murray’s F.C. and other expat groups, I float in and out like a butterfly as and when I feel comfortable – often welcome yet not sought after. I can be an outsider even amongst fellow outsiders. I will always help, when possible, and like people to know that I am available for consultation or small get-togethers but that doesn’t mean I’ll shy away from every barbecue or team meal. I can switch between hiking groups and reading clubs with ease, if I wish. I don’t try to be someone that I am not, and I try not to be anyone but me. There’s a touch of drifter, searcher and guardian in there somewhere. When needed the resolver and the refuser can enter the room. I dislike social stigmas, yet I can understand if someone perceives me as different.

I know my writing persona is like those of usernames in silent online virtual reality rooms. We can all blend, chop and change in our e-masks. Over the years my blog has slipped between diarist, weather reporter, psychological councillor, cry of help to essayists. My views may detract or add to wider discussion. For me expression is an outlet. This tapping on the keyboards is a vent. It is both constructive and freeing. I feel confident enough to write things that may be uncomfortable for family members of friends – but less comfortable when it comes to that of my employer and place of residence. Still, I am not preaching or trying to cause upset. Yesterday’s views may even change to tomorrow. I believe the Welsh call it Malw Cachu (to talk shit).

If I don’t misrepresent myself, or obscure my identity to win your bank account, then frantically hitting the keys on this laptop will serve reasonable purpose. I do, however feel, that offline my personality is less exciting than the one I can identify with on here: words – they really are beautiful things. Words mean something. They are to the writer as paint is to an artist. They’re endless unwritten poems, thoughts and ideas. Mind, body and self can escape through words – or words can equally help my mind, body and self. How do you identify with this interaction?

This last weekend, I joined Huizhou Blues for a one-day tournament at Bromsgrove School in Mission Hills. We lost to a Media Team on penalties in the final of the 8-a-side football competition. I’d managed ten minutes of football in the first game, before being subbed off. We won that game. Later I came on in one game, assisting the all important sixth and seventh goals in a 7-0 win. For the final I played just over 25 minutes. I couldn’t sprint too much, but my troublesome calf muscle didn’t hate me for the effort. Playing on a smooth grass field did help. Great food was had during lunchtime at a Hong Kong restaurant next to Mission Hills Eco-Park – and tucked behind their western restaurant, The Patio. Catching the sun on the final day of November and being slightly red on the head was the only drawback. It reached around 25ºC that day with quite high UV levels.

This week in Dongguan, you’d look at people and think that it’d snow here soon. One of my class students has three layers of jackets over his shirt and sweater. Some teachers are wearing scarves. I’ve seen woolly gloves and mittens already. Today’s low is 10ºC (at night). The morning temperature sits around 13ºC and the high today will be 19ºC. Whilst the day is sunny, there is certainly a lot of wind around. Humidity is really at its lowest at this time of year. For me, I think it is the most comfortable time of year here with regards to the weather.

In the last seven days, I’ve eaten at Japanese and Korean style barbecues. The Korean style barbecue edges it for flavours and combinations of food. The Japanese barbecue that I ate at with Cian and Leon, certainly had good meats and the Kirin beer wasn’t too bad. It certainly helped when watching Man City at Newcastle Utd. There has been Dongbei food, Guilin rice noodles and Hunan foods. Sometimes I look at my diet and think that it cannot get any more diverse. The lunchtime selection of toasties that I’m making certainly add to that.

In the last week, we’ve held sports days at school, involving countless practices of a routine for the opening ceremony which the students expertly forgot. They didn’t get it wrong. They just carried on marching by the tables of the school leaders and foreign teachers – and completely ignored what they’d practiced. In a way, I was proud. A good mistake is made better when they all collectively realised and instantly laughed about it. This week’s P.E. classes will involve kite flying and frisbee throwing. No set routines.

I’ve considered some evening walking up the odd small mountain here but it seems all park gates close and are locked at 6pm. Those without gates are much further away shich makes returning late at night a tad difficult.

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā