THE END OF AN ERA, AND THE START OF A LITANY OF ERRORS.
“Et tu, Brute!” – Julius Caesar (Act III, Scene I). William Shakespeare.
Have the guns fallen Silent? Only time will tell.
It is in the Greek Epic Iliad by Homer where we learn about the concept of hubris, we are told of Achilles treatment of the vanquished Hector’s corpse. Achilles had killed Hector in revenge. Not only did he kill him, but he stripped Hector’s corpse and dragged it around behind his chariot, threading leather thongs through Hector’s ankles. Although the Greek forces were appalled by his treatment of this other hero’s corpse, he was unrelenting. Priam, king of Troy, had to come and kneel at Achilles’ feet and offer him Hector’s weight in gold before he could convince him to give up the body. Once the body was gone, Achilles had time to ponder the fact that it was prophesied his own death would come soon after Hector’s. And indeed it was to follow at the hands of Paris!. What I saw yesterday being visited upon the son of Sirte, Gadhafi, the man with the vaulting ambition of having a United Africa, but a religiously divided Nigeria, the man with an eccentric sense of grandeur, the self-declared King of Kings was despicable and horrendous; he was a dictator a fact I acknowledge, but he was human first. He was captured alive, killed and his lifeless body stripped to the waist and dragged in the streets as a trophy. Even retributive justice does not go this far. By dint of these acts, they committed the crime of hubris. I had assumed that the NTC was committed to the upholding of the most basic tenet of human rights, the right to life, it turns out I had expected too much. The NTC has suspended the rules of engagement in pursuit of its ends. The difference between the NTC and common semi-naked ragtag bandits like Al Shabab is non-existent. They are birds of a feather. With Gadhafi’s death, Libya appears to stand on the cusp of a new era, but its turmoil may not be over.
The mercurial and maverick Brother Leader Colonel Gadhafi was not a person I held inhigh esteem. He favoured, facilitated and aided terrorism. He was not the exemplification of a noble person, but the inverse. He visited terrorism in Kenya in 1982 Norfolk Hotel Bombings in Nairobi. He supported the buffoon Iddi Amin Dada the butcher of Uganda, He supported insurgency in Somalia for a long time, His friend Blaise Compaore dismembered and buried in an unmarked grave one of the most brilliant and visionary leaders Africa has ever had, President Thomas Sankara of Burkina Faso, he supported Liberian warlords Charles Taylor and Prince Johnson who butchered President Samuel Doe of Liberia, he provided support for the Lockerbie bombings and bombers amongst a litany of evildoings. But we should always remember that he never acted alone, his dominion was not centered on him and his family. He ruled with the aid of loyal sycophants and these are the new boys in town. But we shouldn’t be blind to the fact that he may as well have learnt all this barbarism from Belgium and Mobutu Seseseko based on how they treated one of Africa’s valiant sons, Patrice Emergy Lumumba, he was shot and killed, buried for days, exhumed and dismembered for daring to stand up against the mighty Belgium and the empire of the United States of America. They even took his teeth as souvenirs. To date, his family and we Africans in general still cry for the elusive justice. Of course we shouldn’t forget what the Boers in apartheid South Africa did to Steve Biko, a young man full of patriotism, valor, fidelity, and ability.
How Gadhafi lived, and his deeds, I would sum it as despicable. However, how he was killed or rather executed, macabre and beastly. It definitely was a step out of the bounds of modesty. Which begs the question, what is driving the revolution in Libya? Was it a shared hate for Gaddafi or other sinister motives. We have been treated to harrowing tales of indiscriminate torture, depravity and summary executions carried out by the NTC forces against the Touaregs and the Sub Saharan African people on the pretext of them being dogs of war acting at the behest of Gadhafi. Their honour and integrity has been abused. No substantiative proof to link them to mercenary activities has yet been adduced, but their families will have to live with the fact that they died because of their ethnicity. They lost their lives, liberty and property not because they posed a threat to the “revolutionaries”, they lost is all merely for the gratification of the latter. The International Criminal Court appears mum about these atrocities despite the widespread concise reporting of the same both in print and electronic media. The kith and kin of those innocents are looking for someone to redress the wrongs meted on their relatives, but their cries have not been heard. To those asinine killers, their conscience (if just in case they have any) will haunt them and surely for as long as the sky is above the seas, they should be sure their sins will find them out. The demon of bloodletting they have roused will turn and rend them. It will not be long before we see them bathing in their own blood. The world had high hopes for a new Libya, full of liberty as the common heritage of everyone within its borders, but on fuller reflection, it seems what it got was old wine in new wineskins.
And now that the common foe is out, will the center in the NTC hold? Which political, economic, social and religious doctrines and edicts does the NTC advocate? What agenda or vision does it hold? The oil contracts are apt to be signed, the oil revenue will start flowing in and the real test will thus begin. Let us wait and see whether the rights of the Libyans will not be subjugated to the oil companies and other Western business. NTC was initially premised on the promise of securing freedom for all Libyans, but from the look of things, it is vindictive in every vein. Holding of free, fair and all-inclusive elections will go a long way in showing the world that it is a clean break from the past. The NTC has indicated that Muslim law will be the grundnorm of the Libyan Republic which means that the schism that has always existed between the Muslim majority and the non-Muslim minority will be further. The high thoughts that the insolent NTC leadership has assumed will prove to be their Achilles hill, NTC is not supreme, there’s a higher power outside Africa and The Arab world. It should not be lost to anybody that the convoy Gadhafi tried to flee in was hit by NATO airstrikes and stopped in their tracks, carried out by French warplanes as confirmed by France’s Defense Minister Gerard Longuet before the revolutionary fighters moved in for the kill on Gadhafi. The NTC should know that the higher power demands the towing of the line failure to which they will literally bite the bullet. The NTC fraternity should familiarize itself with the chains of bondage and prepare its own limbs to wear them. They have promised Libya and the world heaven on earth in the absence of the tyrant, but they should know that the winter of discontent is beckoning. Failure to deliver on the promises will be their nemesis. The battle for Libya has been won, but the war for Libya has just begun.
With Gadhafi off the scene, we will now expect trenchant concerted rather than unilateral action to be taken against the regimes in Bahrain, Syria, Yemen, Senegal, Angola, Equatorial Guinea, Burkina Faso, The Gambia, Sudan and Uganda to an extent to show the snide skeptics’ that indeed, it is not and has never been all about the Libyan oil but protection of the people. My desire is that the required changes can be effected without the shedding of blood.
Wind Beneath My Wings.
“For sensible men I prepare only three kraters: one for health (which they drink first), the second for love and pleasure, and the third for sleep. After the third one is drained, wise men go home. The fourth krater is not mine any more – it belongs to bad behaviour; the fifth is for shouting; the sixth is for rudeness and insults; the seventh is for fights; the eighth is for breaking the furniture; the ninth is for depression; the tenth is for madness and unconsciousness”.
Semele or Dionysus circa 375 BC.
T’s exactly a year after the event.
The day was Wednesday, 6th October, 2010. I felt the day with a certain morbid sense of déjà vu. The sun rose and set as it was expected. I thought that it would be another ordinary day. But whereas all others who do not live in the skies saw a setting sun, mine eyes beheld a rising sun, signaling the start of another day in a day. I had toyed with the idea of going to school, to go or not to go, in the long run, the not to thoughts carried the day. And seeing that my dancing days were at their prime, the next question was; Destination where? However, as good luck would have it, there was live music going down in one of my favourite joints in the CBD. Little did I know that by this choice, I was courting the jaws of death albeit unknowingly and the consequence of my decision would have a great bearing on my future life or put simply, a significant and cathartic turning point in my life was unfolding. It was a day to open a new chapter about my political, rhetorical, and ideological perceptions.
I met some friends in town but decided against drinking in the CBD. I therefore headed for one of my local joints, Sevens, the ambience was frolic and the music right. I had a conversation with a slew of regular members as I enjoyed my drink who had a precocious passion and eloquence on the topic of free thought for some hours; I remember that I thoroughly enjoyed myself before relocating to ODM. In ODM, I remember I met several friends who I discoursed with, one kitsch patron who I had not seen before was flaunting his supposed education and intellectual vanity refusing to pay his bill on the pretext that he had already paid. I must admit that I had had one too many and was tipsy when I left the pub, but this was not a carte blanche for anybody to restrict my movement for as long as I was not in breach of any law. I had all the rights to stand my ground in theory, but in essence, I was physically weak from the effects of the drinks and intoxicated kiasi tu but I would not say I had Dutch courage, I was still level headed.
The events of the transition from 6th to 7th October left an indelible scar in my life and a cicatrix on my head serving as a poignant reminder of the events of that day, but above that, they made me rethink my course of life and my love affaire with beer. As my head which was the vocal point of the attack was in the winepress of the diabolical hand-dogs, hot blood rushed down my neck, bathing my body, my single most prayer was that God saves me from the grip of death because I felt that this was not the right time and place to die at. To date, I still believe that it was a close shave and for that I give grace Adieu.
I recall that after I regained consciousness, I bumped into cops who knew me. They advised me to go and report the incident to the police station. When I got to the station, apparently some big shot had been carjacked along Riara Road and thus the police at the report desk were on the big shot’s case, I lost some good time before my statement could be taken but I should say that the cops were very civil. From the police station, I headed to my tint. I had to look for ways of removing the window pane before I could gain access to the house. Once in the house, I went to sleep seemingly oblivious of the effect of the wound on my head, even the First Aid training that I had undertaken some years back where I learnt about concussion and its causes had taken a leave of absence.
When I finally made it to the hospital some eleven hours after the attack, the doctor who attended to me was not sure on whether to proceed with the stitching of the wound due to the lapse of time, there was the risk of infection. However, after consulting with her peers, it was decided that the pros of stitching outweighed the cons.
I have to accept that I have never been a conspicuous consumer as I have never, and I still not been able to have the requisite money to spare or flaunt as is expected of a person who merely ekes a living. My upbringing meant that I had to choose my values from an early age, and life’s experiences were my teacher in many ways. However, I had over the years developed a symbiotic relationship with beer at the right temperature accompanied by music ( ile inaitwa muziki kwa big spika ). Beer drinking served as an avenue for me to unwind and meet people after a looong days’ hussle. Whether it was at Simmers listening to Le Marshal Bikassy Bijos, or at Sippers listening to Wakurugenzi, Octagon or Sevens, it was in these meetings where I got the chance to listen to armchair politicians’ debate about Kenyan and world vaunted politicians policies in contrast with their lofty rhetoric. I definitely enjoyed the maieutic discourses. However, we usually avoided ontological arguments.
It is in beer drinking that I have met people with a promptitude of world historical events and dates and a profusion of examples of world realpolitik figures and administrations over the cause of world history. It was in these symposiums that I would hear of “civil liberties”, heard it asserted that rights are not derived from human institutions, but from nature and God. Thus, government does not exist to please monarchs, but to promote the good of the entire society”, “extraordinary renditions”,“regime change”, “ the cave allegory and the television”, “filibuster”, “corporatocracy” an eon before the Arab Spring. I considered these beer meetings as a way of opening up my world view and perspective.
It was thus that I merely did not frequent conviviums for frothy liquids and music or other things, but also for exposition and socialisation. Beer was not for me meant for affirming to me the close connection between my own state of mind, inner peace and my happiness, neither was it a stress reliever or a panacea to my life’s little problems and struggles, it was a social thing. It was and it is still a place where one gets to learn from those who have been there. I know that when a person either willingly or otherwise acts under the influence of alcohol, he/she becomes in some instances oblivious to the impact of his/her deeds and words upon others. I have seen, read and heard of heartrending stories of lives which have been wretched by alcoholism and it has never been lost to me that a line should always be drawn between what is moderate and acceptable drinking and drinking till the cops come to remind you that it is not 1759 but past Mututho time.
It may not be a clean break as such, but I have tried training my mind to the mental acumen which accepts those things which are inevitable and not try to wish them away through pinting. I have become more structurally humanistic psychologically. I have changed a little my work ethics espousing the liberal ideology that life is just about work and getting results, it more than that and it ought to be lived and enjoyed. The youthful indiscretion that I once had has now been replaced by a focused but simple life of weighed choices. I have trained my mind to transform negative energies to positive outlook and achievement of inner peace without resorting to alcohol. Nowadays I don’t consider life as random, but programmed, to be had while it is still there. While blood was gushing from head, I pictured my epicedium being read, to friends and foes alike, about how I had lived my life fully, according to them. October, 6th 2010 taught me a truism, that the most important decisions in my life are not the things that I do, but the things I decide not to do. With hindsight, I shouldn’t have been pub crawling that night.
In the denouement of my note, as I proceed on this path, I’m reminded of some words from a movie I watched in 2008 “The Great Debaters“, where Melvin B. Tolson says “I am here to help you to find, take back, and keep your righteous mind.”…the righteousness bit, not sure! …but I’m definitely keeping my mind.
UHURUMWINYI 