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Tag Archives: myth
Nine Toes' Penny
The day Nine Toes disappeared in the Kalahari remains shrouded in mystery. Gertruida says there has to be a logical explanation, but Servaas – in an uncharacteristic pensive way – reckons one should never dabble with superstition or magic. Vetfaan dismisses the whole episode as a myth while Boggel only smiles and reminds them that the Kalahari is a great keeper of secrets.
Nine Toes, the Bushman, used to visit Rolbos occasionally. Way back then, he'd saunter in to Boggel's Place with a casual smile and a cheerful greeting. He did this when he had something to sell: sometimes a few strings of beads, at others something more significant like an old coin or a rusted pocket knife. He'd explain these finds by telling them about the abandoned wagons of the old Dorslandtrekkers – the Afrikaners that that tried to escape British rule by trekking to Angola through the merciless desert which killed so many of them.
"There are wagons out there, Mister Boggel, just like the people left them. Eish! Many of them are almost worn away by the wind and the sun by now, but some things remain – if you knew where to dig in the sand. In the rusted tins and leather sacks, one may find strange things." And with that, he'd hold out a handful of Kruger Pounds or maybe a ring or a necklace.
Nine Toes was rather aptly named. Many years ago a surprise meeting with a cobra – in the dead of the night – resulted in the snake being decapitated and a young Bushman contemplating his rapidly swelling big toe. He knew what would happen once the poison spread and did the only thing he could. When Vetfaan once said he didn't believe a word of that story, Nine Toes produced the evidence the next time he visited Rolbos. The shrivelled up, dried-out toe silenced his critic completely.
Servaas had tried – many times – to find out where Nine Toes' wagons were, but the man shook his head.
"Mister Servaas, leave those wagons to rest where they are. They supply me with a means to survive and they deserve to be undisturbed. There are graves there, too. Six of them. Long ago they had wooden crosses with names but now only the rocks on them tell you where they are. Four small ones, two big ones. And the spirits? They are there, too. They talk to me. They don't want to be disturbed."
Now that, of course, drew a sharp rebuke from Oudoom; but Nine Toes remained unfazed. He wasn't talking about ghosts, he said, but spirits. There was a difference, he maintained.
"A ghost has a body, a face, a voice. When a ghost touches you, his fingers burn like ice. But a spirit…no body. No voice. A spirit can move right through you and you'll never know. But take time, Mister Servaas, to sit down and talk with a spirit, and you'll get an answer; not in words, but here." He tapped the side of his head. "Spirits are soft, mostly kind and always ready to listen."
Servaas scoffed, which only made Nine Toes shrug. An ignorant, sceptic old man could not be blamed for not believing him, after all. Oudoom remarked that that was the problem with the world those days: people believed in the most absurd things. No, Nine Toes countered, that was wrong.
"We must welcome the spirits, Mister Oudoom. They share this world with us. Sometimes they go away – I don't know where – but then they return again. I've heard you people talking about angels – it's the same thing, I think. Only, the spirits I know of don't have wings and they don't shine. They are. That's all. Like the wind, they don't move with feet. But just like you can feel the wind, I can feel the spirits. Eyes can't see them, no, only your heart."
Gertruida reckoned that one must not dismiss such arguments. Africa is a continent of superstition and myth – which may overlap remarkably with reality. "It's a state of mind," she said, "a way of thinking. We are, truth be told, the result of our upbringing. You grow up in a Christian home, so you never question the ideology. The same thing applies to all religions and certain philosophies: they get so ingrained in your mind that you never take time to dissect what – exactly – you believe in." She smiled at that point and made a dismissive gesture. "Live and let live, I say. If Nine Toes believes in spirits, let him be. We're not going to change it."
But Nine Toes wasn't finished. "Sometimes we house those spirits. They stay here." He thumped his chest. "Other times, they live in animals. Snakes house bad spirits. Strong spirits prefer lions. My father is an elephant."
That was one bridge too far. The group at the bar fell silent and stared at the ceiling. Arguing with Nine Toes would have been an exercise in futility – agreeing with him, equally unthinkable.
Then, yesterday morning, a strange thing happened. During the night, Vrede barked so much that Boggel had to get up. He checked his bedroom, the house, the street outside…nothing.
But that morning, a copper coin– obviously old – was found on Boggel's veranda. Boggel picked it up and placed it on the counter. Gertruida came in a while later and gasped.
"Where on earth did you find this, Boggel?"
"Oh, on the doorstep. Somebody must have dropped it."
"No way, Boggel! This is an 1853 penny with the bust of young Queen Victoria. Very rare. Nobody carries such coins about in their pockets! It's a collector's item."
As Boggel turned the coin over, Vrede started barking again outside. Vetfaan came in and asked what was bothering the dog.
"Dunno. He's been acting strangely since midnight. Bark, bark, bark all the time."
"Well, he's outside now, hair on his neck all erect, barking at the ground."
Gertruida got up suddenly and walked out. Then she called them all over.
"Look, a print." She pointed at the track in the sandy sidewalk. Vrede was standing a yard away, obviously annoyed at the spoor.Eyes fixed on the track, there was no mistaking what was irritating the town's dog.
"Mmm…interesting." Vetfaan bent down to have a better look. "It's a brown hyena. Been a long time since last I saw one in the area."
And so the group went back to the bar to have a cold one and chat about the strange coin Boggel had found.
Which is a pity.
Had they looked at the spoor a little more closely, they would have noticed a missing toe. And then, when the months went by and their favourite Bushman never showed up again, they would have understood.
This entry was posted in Kalahari, Life, religion, short story, South Africa, Uncategorized and tagged Africa, myth, superstition, WPLongform on September 20, 2016 by Amos van der Merwe.
The Big Herd Syndrome
"I thought England would choose to remain in the European Union," Servaas says as hy sips his beer. It's been a quiet morning in Boggel's Place; Vetfaan is tinkering with the tractor's engine again and Gertruida must still return from Upington, where she went to get more wool. The blanket she's crocheting is coming on nicely indeed; it's going to be another long, cold winter.
"Ag, I don't know, Servaas. Whether they're in or out doesn't bother me. But you know the English – they're a proud nation. Or at least…they were. There was a time they ruled the world and now they're just a small island. Who cares?"
"Money cares, that's what. The City of London is an economic hub, Boggel. They pull a lot of strings and expect a lot of people to jump when they do. This isn't good news for the financial world – and we're not going to escape the effects of this vote."
They fall silent as the lorry from Kalahari Vervoer stops in front of Sammy's Shop. When Gertruida gets out on the passenger side, Servaas brightens.
"She's bummed a lift back! Vetfaan will be pleased; he was supposed to fetch her tomorrow. And…I'd love to hear what her opinion is."
Within minutes, Gertruida has to listen to a barrage of questions.
"Okay, okay, you guys. Let me tell you a story. "
Once upon a time – long ago – Zebra had a bright idea.
"Look, we are always scared of Lion and Leopard. Why, as soon as I lower my head to eat some grass, I have to look up again to check out the vicinity. And when I want to drink water, I can only manage the tiniest mouthful before I have to do the same.
"Now you, Giraffe and Kudu, you have the same problem. So do you, Springbuck and Klipspringer. Even big, strong, Buffalo suffers the same fate.The threat, my friends, is universal – we all are in danger of being the main dish on the supper table of our enemies every day.
"Now, here's what I suggest: let's group together and become one big, happy herd. Some could be on the lookout while the others eat and drink in peace. We'll share feeding, drinking and lookout duties amongst us rather than having to do it all by ourselves. Huh? What do you say?"
The other animals thought about Zebra's suggestion and couldn't decide.
"Well, then we'll vote on this.That's the only way we'd know whether it's a good idea or not." Little Duiker, the most agile of them all, didn't like such long meetings. There were places to go, things to do.
The animals voted. Yes, the majority said, it's better if they herd together.
Zebra's plan worked well for a while. The animals shared lookout duties and they felt safe. Then, something strange happened. Due to a drought in the Baboon Territory, the baboons started looking for a better place to live. When they heard about the Big Herd, they headed that way in big numbers.
"We want what you have," Baboon told Zebra. "It's only fair. We are all animals, aren't we? Go on, share your good fortune with us."
"But you're not an antelope, Mister Baboon. You guys don't eat like us; you dig up the soil to get to scorpions and things that live underground. We only eat bits of grass here and there, allowing the veld to recover again. But…once you're finished eating, the veld won't be the same until after it rains once more.
"No, Mister Baboon, I'm sorry but we can't allow you here."
"Gee, how selfish!" Gentle Eland shook his head. "How can you be like that? Poor Baboon has nowhere to go; you can't refuse to give him some shelter and food? No, I think Baboon deserves some compassion. He should stay."
Now, by that time, the herd had become extremely large. Antelopes of all shapes and sizes grazed alongside each other and the news of Baboon's plight soon became a topic of serious discussion. Most of the animals seemed to be in favour of allowing Baboon to stay, but Zebra put his hoof down.
"Then I'll leave. I'll take my chances. You guys want Baboon to stay? Why, go ahead and be my guest. I shall find my own piece of veld to graze. Goodbye and good riddance!"
The other animals thought Zebra was being stupid and welcomed Baboon with bright smiles.
"Shame, we feel sorry for you," they told Baboon. "Come, we've gathered some berries for you."
Now, it didn't take too long for them to realise that Zebra was right. Baboon's destructive way of feeding soon had the veld bare of grass. Worse, Baboon even started telling them that the veld was his, and they had no right to tell him where to feed. When the animals grumbled about this, Baboon threatened to fill up the watering hole with stones.
"He'll never do that," Kudu said. "Did we not help when he was starving? No, he's just bluffing."
But Baboon wasn't bluffing. When the animals went for a drink the next day, they found a great heap of stones where the water once was. The Big Herd was disappointed, angry and disillusioned all at once.
"It's your fault," Kudu told Eland.
"But…I thought Buffalo was supposed to guard the hole?"
"No, it was Klipspringer's turn…or was it Duiker?"
The herd had become too big. While Zebra was there, he kept an orderly roster of guard duties; but when he left, nobody stepped up to do that. In the ensuing argument, Kudu butted Eland with his giant horns. Eland stomped on Klipspringer. And Duiker, the most agile of them all, simply ran off to search for Zebra.
"You see, the idea of a communal unity seemed like a great idea in the beginning. But the animals ignored one important aspect: they were all different. They ate different sorts of plants. Every specie had it's own habits. And they all liked the company of their own type. Antelopes come in different sizes, shapes and colours. Zebra has stripes for camouflage, Kudu has horns to fight with and Buffalo is big and strong. Herding them together was a mistake – while they felt safer, they had to give up who and what they were.
"Then, when Baboon showed up, he not only ruined their peaceful co-existence, he also made them aware of their differences.
"A big herd, Servaas, can't last forever. At some point they have to split up to retain their identities and ways of life. Today you'll find small herds scattered here and there, because that is the way to deal with outside threats. A smaller herd needs less water and grass, escapes danger with greater ease and can travel farther with less problems.
"It is true for animals. It is true for the UK. It will be true for the European Union…and eventually, after the veld has been destroyed, for South Africa."
This entry was posted in Life, short story, Uncategorized and tagged brexit, EU, legend, myth, UK on June 24, 2016 by Amos van der Merwe.
The Scorpion that didn't die.
The latest rumours (or are they more than that?) have so upset Vetfaan that he took to the dunes again. He does this from time to time; to create distance between himself and the dark reality of South Africa, to clear his mind….and to seek encouragement from his old friend, !Kung. Truth be told, !Kung has the strangest way of putting things into a new perspective, despite the fact that he never reads a paper, still believes that there are small people trapped inside the TV (he just might be right on that score!) and has never heard our president speak. This last attribute also could be seen as a point in his favour.Or maybe he's just fortunate..
Vetfaan finds the wizened old man waiting patiently in the shade of the camelthorn tree near the big red dune. Vetfaan is never sure whether !Kung always stays in the vicinity or only comes when he knows Vetfaan's visit is imminent. When he asked him about it once, !Kung simply smiled and told Vetfaan that there are many things he'd never understand and therefore wouldn't believe. "The problem with Outside People is they ask too many questions," !Kung said quietly, and left it at that. Outside People, in !Kung's language, is anybody that lives beyond the shifting dunes of the Kalahari.
After their customary greeting, lighting the fire and sharing the comfortable silence between them, Vetfaan gets up, fetches the Kudu liver he had brought along and roasts it on the glowing embers.
"You are much troubled," Kung says eventually, running his small hand over the white stubbles of his remaining hair.
How do you explain the chaos in the country to somebody who has never even voted? Doesn't read, cannot write and is unable to understand the term 'corruption'? Who can simply not understand that senior officials are involved in criminal activities; smuggling everything from cigarettes to rhino horn, raping the treasury and consider lying as part of their job descriptions? !Kung has never even heard of ambassadors, nor of the 'doctor' we have in Japan or the embarrassment of our emissary in the United States.
"There are hyenas in the country, !Kung. They are eating our people." Vetfaan stares into the flames, knowing this is enough. !Kung will hear all the things he hasn't said.
The old man nods. "The drought has come."
Vetfaan waits. He knows there is more. !Kung gets up to fetch the calabash of honey beer, which he offers to Vetfaan before drinking himself.
"When the grass is this high," he lifts his hand above his head, "there is enough for the oryx and the kudu and the hare. Some eat of the trees, some of the grass. When there is plenty, everybody is fat. But sometimes there are too many of the one, more than the other. And then the trees can't make leaves fast enough and the bigger animals will start feeding on the grass the hare needs to eat. Hare will not be happy.
"'Now look here, Kudu and Oryx, you are eating my grass,'" Hare will say. "'You have to stop.'"
"'But we can't, can you not see? We have bigger bodies than you – we need the grass. Anyway, we are much stronger, so go away.'"
"But, Mister Vetfaan, Hare doesn't want to. Where can he go? The drought is everywhere, remember? Also, this is his home, his place. And so Hare sits down to think about how the bigger animals are trying to cheat him out of his food."
!Kung falls silent again, gathering his thoughts. Why can Vetfaan not work it out himself? It is so simple…
"Hare then does what he does best. He starts digging a hole. A big one. And he gets Baboon to cover it with branches and twigs. And he puts some nice, green grass on the other side of the hole and then he sits down to wait."
!Kung gets up, stretches, and starts scooping out a hollow in the sand. At his age, his hips tend to be painful at night. To get a good night's sleep, he must prepare his bed carefully.
"And…" Vetfaan arches an eyebrow. "What happened?"
!Kung looks up, surprised at Vetfaan's question.
"What must happen, Mister Vetfaan. That's what."
They sit in silence for a while before turning in. Overhead the stars glitter against the cold black of the sky. Vetfaan identifies Sagittarius, the mythical archer, with his arrow aimed at Scorpius's heart. The arrow, however, never gets to be released, will never hit its mark. The real victor, Vetfaan realises, is the scorpion.
Yes, he thinks before drifting off to sleep. !Kung is one hundred percent right.
"…. see a bad moon rising.
I see trouble on the way…"
This entry was posted in politics, short story, Uncategorized and tagged corruption, myth, politics, postaday, WPLongform on March 4, 2016 by Amos van der Merwe.
The Ant-heap Hater
Boggel's Place has been eerily silent for the last week or two. After some welcome showers, the veld is green once more. Vetfaan and Kleinpiet have had to tend to their farms, leaving Gertruida (with a stack of National Geographics) and Boggel (polishing and repolishing the glasses) alone in the small bar. Oudoom is in Upington for a church meeting.
"Anything interesting?" Boggel glances hopefully towards Gertruida, who puts down the magazine.
"Always. I learn so much from these books. Look at the beautiful photographs of ant-hills." She holds up the glossy page.
"That's huge!" Boggel squints. He'll have to see that optician in Upington sometime. "But such a lot of ants must have done a lot of damage? Must have upset a framer by destroying a lot of veld."
Gertruida rolls her eyes. "Don't be so negative, Boggel. You sound like the politicians who try to talk away the wave of xenophobia. Ants, I'll have you know, are vitally important to our survival. Yes, they make a living by working hard, but the are essential for the spread of seeds. They till the land, remove dead animals and plants, clean up debris. Ants are the most numerous species in the world and have survived everything Mother Nature has thrown at them. They are Nature's best recyclers; a veritable example to us all."
"How can you compare ant-hills with xenophobia, Gertruida? It doesn't make sense?"
There once lived a man who hated ants.
"Look at them! Always scurrying this way and that, never resting. They eat my crops and destroy my stores. This ground is mine, I shall not have it colonised by foreigners. I shall have to kill them all."
His wife put down the bucket she was carrying.
"Oh, my husband! Always complaining and complaining. All you do is to watch those ants – from dawn to dusk, all day long. How many times have I asked you to dig a furrow from the river so we can have water near the house? And why is the roof still leaking? And look at the house: it's barely big enough for the two of us, but you refuse to build on a room for the children." She sighed. If only her husband would do something!
The man got angry and stormed out of the house. Taking a shovel, he started destroying the ant-hill next to the humble hut they lived in. The ants had no right to eat his meagre crop! He dug all day to try to demolish all the ant's tunnels.
That night he sat down to his small bowl of porridge, hoping his wife would have calmed down. No such luck.
"There is a huge patch of ground next to the river. Why haven't you tilled that? Why didn't you plant enough corn there to see us through the winter? Why…"
He interrupted her rudely, telling her to shut up. He was the man, he'd make the decisions. And anyway, who was she to tell him how to farm? She didn't know anything…
The man set out the next day to attack more and more ant-heaps. He forgot about his patch of corn, which withered away under the sun. Winter came. When at last springtime arrived, the man and his wife had starved to death.
Outside their small hut, the ants had resumed building their nest.
"That man was stupid, Gertruida. He should have cultivated his land properly and left the ants to do their job."
"Ja, Boggel. Removing ant-heaps wasn't the answer. Ants will survive, no matter what. The man didn't."
Gertruida stares out of the window as silence settles in Boggel's Place once more. People could learn a lot from ants, she thinks. They get on with the job of living, while people are constantly blaming others for their hardship. It's as if some people have a default setting that forces them to expect others to solve their problems – while they are content to simply complain and object to the success anybody else might have achieved.
"We've become a nation of ant-haters," Boggel says as he stacks the glasses back onto their shelf. "We simply cannot cope with competition because we're too lazy to work harder."
Gertruida doesn't even look up from her reading. They've discussed the issue many times before and there doesn't seem to be a solution. Once a nation has slipped down the slope of unproductivity, it'll take a miracle to reverse the trend.
"I see they're going to teach Mandarin in our schools now." Boggel looks at the front page of yesterday's newspaper.. "Even teach it to the police…"
"Ja, I saw that. The real ants are coming, Boggel. If we don't – or won't – cultivate the land next to the river, we'll pay the price…"
This entry was posted in politics, rainbow nation, short stories and tagged legend, myth, xenophobia on April 30, 2015 by Amos van der Merwe.
Who Painted the Moon Black?
"There once was a very tall man." Gertruida sits back, making up the story as she tells it. "Very tall. Taller than anybody else on earth. He was a soft-spoken man who cared for his family very much."
Servaas nods to egg her on. He wants to hear another fable, a myth, a legend – anything – to make him forget the way things are in the country.
"He was a good hunter and an even better farmer. His family ate well every day. But…like his family, he was afraid of the dark. In those days, the nights were black with only a few stars to light up the sky. His family, because of their fear, collected firewood every day so that the flames could drive the darkness away once the sun had set. This made the tall man very happy."
By now, everybody in Rolbos is listening with rapt attention. Gertruida's fables aren't stories to ignore; they all have a moral hidden somewhere.
"But one day he tracked an Eland and he ventured too far away from his home to return to the family's fire. The sun set. It became dark. And the man was afraid once more.
"Getting up carefully, he stretched a hand into the darkness and to his surprise he touched something. Up there, in the black of the sky, he felt an object nobody had ever seen before. It was the moon. The man sat down and thought about his discovery. If only he could make the moon bright, he'd never have to fear the night again.
"He went home the next day and told everybody what he had found, but nobody believed him. They laughed and told him he must have dreamt it, nothing can exist in such blackness. No, they said, only a few stars could live in the dark, and they weren't things to touch, anyway. Did everybody not know that those pinpricks of light were holes in the blanket that covers the sky at night? They laughed at the tall man and he felt much ashamed.
"Still, he knew there was something up there, something only he could touch. But how was he going to make the people stop laughing at him? He had to make a plan, so he went down to the river to think. He asked the water to go up there and roar like a waterfall – so the people might hear the object. The water refused, mumbling that water runs down, never up.. Then he asked the crows to fly up at night to nest on the object so they can squawk there, but they didn't want to. They had to stay on earth to scavenge from Man, they said.
"And so he asked jackall to howl on the moon, lion to roar on the moon, hyena to laugh on the moon. They all refused. Eventually the man realised he would not be able to make the people hear the moon – he had to show it to them…but how?
"That's when the fireflies came to him to tell him they'd go. They could fly, they said, and make light. If many of them gathered on the tall man's moon, people would be able to see not only the moon, but also through the darkness of the night.
"The man was delighted. The next evening he gathered everybody around him and watched as the fireflies all gathered on the moon to give them light. The people were amazed and now treated the tall man with respect. They even made him their leader.
"The sun welcomed the moon in the sky and befriended the new source of light. They were very happy.
"But the tall man became old and told the people to elect a new leader – he wanted to rest, he said. So a new leader was chosen and the tall man lived out his days in peace. Once his soul left his body to join those that went before, the people soon forgot about him. Such is the nature of man, after all. Good people are much easier to forget than bad ones."
Oudoom holds up a hand, interrupting Gertruida's story. "That's true, you know? History books are filled with the stories of bad men – when last did you read about something nice and uplifting in the past? It's there, of course, but there are more Mussolini's than Mother Teresa's."
Gertruida flashes a wintry smile in Oudoom's direction – she hates interjections. "Anyway, the new leader was jealous of the tall man's accomplishment and wondered what he could do to impress people. After much thought, he decided to make the moon black again. If his predecessor gave the people light at night, he'd give them darkness. Surely they'd respect him for that? So he went down to the river to fetch long reeds, to which he fastened some grass. He piled mud on this long brush and waited for night-time. Then he painted the moon black again. The fireflies died and night became dark once more.
"The sun saw what had happened and grieved for his friend the tall man had created. It therefore refused to draw back the night's blanket from then on, leaving the earth in darkness.
"The people became afraid again and cried out, but the darkness remained."
Gertruida falls silent and asks Boggel for a beer.
"That's it? That's the story?" Servaas shakes his head; surely that can't be the end?
"Well, that's as far as the story goes, Servaas. Until another tall man comes along, the land will remain dark. So far, it hasn't happened."
Oudoom nods slowly. He grasped the moral. "So, we'll just have to wait, Gertruida?"
"Yes Oudoom. It'll remain dark until another Mandela comes along."
This entry was posted in History, short stories and tagged Africa, history, legend, Mandela, myth, xenophobia on April 23, 2015 by Amos van der Merwe.
The Bird that would be King
"Fire," Gertruida said, "is a natural phenomenon. Ever since the first thunderclouds gathered in the sky or the first volcano erupted, flames have been at work on dry grass and old wood. Fire isn't there just to make light and cook food – nature needs fires to clear land, to help seeds germinate and then allow new growth to take over."
"That may be true, but the fire in Cape Town destroyed much more than a few old trees. Houses, resorts, forests and the mountainside will need a lot of time and money to recover. People have been left without homes. Animals were burnt to death. I can't see the bright side this time, Gertruida, I just can't." True to her nature, Precilla dabs a tear.
"Nature – like Life – works in endless circles, Precilla. The forest of today is so often the burnt landscape of tomorrow. Beauty yields to age just like summer must bow to winter. Once we understand that, we know that the devastation we now see, will return to be the fairest Cape of all in the near future."
"Does it always work that way? Even with people?'
Gertruida sighed. This question, she knows, leads to the one exception of the rule. "Not always. You see, Nature will recover from fires and floods and droughts – simply because Nature accepts the cycles of fortune it is subject to. In contrast, we are prone to overstate our importance, which may very well lead to permanent damage. Let me tell you an old African myth, Precilla. . Maybe it'll help you understand…"
Once upon a time – long, long ago – the earth belonged to the birds. Not only were they the only ones who knew the secret of navigation and seasons, they also could fly high to look for fountains and rivers, forests to live in and safe places to nest. Over the years they became more and more numerous as they occupied the most fertile pieces of the land.
One bird, in particular, outstripped the others in wisdom. It was a huge animal with beautiful plumage – the envy of all the other flying species.
"I shall rule over the land," he said as he surveyed the vast continent, "for I am bigger and more beautiful than the rest of my family. And," he added smugly, "I am so much cleverer than they."
So this bird – his name I shall tell you in a moment – set about proclaiming his kingship. "I am of royal blood," he cried, "and all the animals will pay homage to me. It is my right!"
While it was true that this bird could fly higher and remain in the air much longer than everybody else, the other birds accepted his claim and then addressed him as their king. For a while this brought great satisfaction to the self-proclaimed monarch and he bore himself in a manner befitting his new rank. He was gracious and kind and took a keen interest in all those under his proverbial wing.
Then, one day, the big king-bird soared high on the winds and looked down at the small animals grazing on the plains below.
"Is it right," he mused, "that all the feathered animals proclaim me as their king, and yet those with hooves and paws ignore me? They are surely too small to oppose my rightful claim."
So the big bird soared down to land next to a tortoise."I am now your king. You shall respect me as such."
And the tortoise, slow and small like he was, drew back into his shell to contemplate this.
Next, the bird approached a jackal, repeating his claim.
And the jackal, as clever as he was, slipped into a burrow under a rock to think about it.
Then the bird found a porcupine and informed him that he had to bow down before the new royalty.
And the porcupine rustled his quills and withdrew to analyze the situation.
Finally, the bird landed next to a lion. Before the bird could finish his proclamation, the lion smote it heavily with his huge paw, cursing the bird for being so forward.
"As the king of all the animals, I will not allow such foolish talk. You, who have inflated your importance to the point where you are deceiving not only others, but also yourself….you will henceforth not return to land. You will soar over the oceans, vainly searching for peace and rarely put your feet on solid ground again. Sailors will stare at you in fear, as you will be the symbol of misfortune and bad luck. A king you shall never be, only a servant of the winds."
The lion turned to go, but the badly injured bird pleaded for mercy.
"Please, Lion, do not leave me like this. I am but a poor bird and your curse will make me poorer still. Have you no mercy?'
And the lion turned to look at the bedraggled imposter and felt sorry for him. "I am, indeed, merciful. I shall grant you one wish."
The bird didn't hesitate.
"Give me something – anything – to help me?"
Lion thought about this and finally agreed. "I shall give you the sharpest eyes of all – so that you may gaze upon the land while you are flying over the oceans. You shall see the land and the rocks and the rivers. You shall observe the animals grazing and playing and hunting. But you, banished over the ocean, shall only see and only observe, for you have laid claim to what isn't yours and tried to rule over what you have no right to. Your eyes, Bird, will be your punishment and your reward, which will be as one."
And so the Albatross gathered his feathers and limped away. After he regained his strength, be flew to the ocean, where he resigned himself to his fate.
"That's such a sad story, Gertruida. But…why tell it now?"
Gertruida smiled as she rolled her eyes.
"Don't you see? It's the story of South Africa. It is also the story of most countries. The rulers of today will one day – if they live long enough – wonder why they didn't go about their tasks with more compassion and kindness. They'll look back and see what they have lost.
"Sadly, it isn't only the politicians and the rulers who suffer this lot. It happens to common people – like us – as well. And the source of this hardship, Precilla, is greed. It's the ego. It's the demand to be more important than we are."
Precilla thought about it for a long time. Then: "The fire in the Cape has come. Now it is gone. And nature will recover?"
Gertruida nodded.
"But people who succumb to greed and ego will lose what they craved for? Rulers and subjects alike?"
"Yes, Precilla. The proud and unbowed necks of too many, will wear the albatross of their folly in the end. It's in every newspaper, every day – radicals, extremists, fundamentalists – once you proclaim that you have not only all the answers, but the only one, the winds over the vast ocean awaits you."
"The Cape is lucky, then. It'll recover."
"Yes, Precilla. That's the message. Nature can complete it's cycles. Humans don't."
This entry was posted in Life, myth, politics, short stories and tagged ANC, cape, extremism, fire, ISIS, legend, myth, politics on March 6, 2015 by Amos van der Merwe.
The Crows Are Here.
"Crows," Gertruida said as they listened to the squawking outside, "are most intelligent. They can manufacture and use tools, but they prefer living in areas where they can feed on refuse and garbage and food they didn't have to work for. Most of them gang together in groups and scavenge for a living."
"I don't like crows," Precilla wrinkles her nose. "On Kleinpiet's farm they have taken to catching tortoises. They spy a small one, and they'll grab it with their claws and lift it high above the ground. Then they'll look for a suitable rock and dash it to death – and then feed on the corpse. They always target the weak and defenceless. Quite disgusting. Maybe that's why the collective term for these birds is a murder of crows…"
"Ah yes…and there's a story the Bushmen tell," Gertruida rejoins, "about the way crows are the messengers of disaster – especially to the unjust and the proud…"
Long ago, after !Kaggen caused mankind to step from the tree, there was peace on earth. There were no conflicts, no war, no bloodshed. As mankind multiplied, they spread out over the land so that every family had enough space to hunt freely. After the first rain of summer, the families would get together to tell the others what had happened during the last year.
Oh, these gatherings were joyous affairs, with lots of eating, dancing and talking. Such was the excitement, that they sang a new song every year – a song dedicated to their happiness and love for each other, for life and for nature.
One year, the Biggest Family sang their own song:
We have multiplied, we are blessed We are wonderful, we are the best.
The Other Families listened to the song, and an Old One stood up and said it wasn't the way they did things. Nobody is better than anybody else, for did !Kaggen not create them all equal? Why would the Biggest Family want to be better than the rest? It's not done, he said, sitting down sadly.
But lo! The Biggest Family then became exceedingly angry and beset themselves onto the others, The fight was short and bloody. When the sun set that day, only a few of the Smaller Families were left. They had fled from the wrath of the Biggest Family, hiding high up in the mountains. There they gathered once more, but not with either joy or excitement. Now their meeting was one of fear – even loathing – for they had seen what the Biggest Family had done to their kin.
Some of the younger men suggested an ambush while others wanted to attack them at night – but the Old One held up a hand and said they were too weak to attempt such a folly.
"No," he said, "that won't do. We must not do something we'd be ashamed of. Look, we know there are too many of them. And, my children, killing your enemies will only result in more killings. Does the tree not put out many shoots once lightning has struck it down? We, my children, must wait."
The Young Ones respected the Old One's words, but still couldn't refrain from asking him what they must wait for.
"The crows, my children. We'll wait for the crows."
And the Young Ones became much frightened, for they thought the crows were the spirits of the dead – they weren't like the other birds at all. A trembling young voice asked again, and was answered by the Old One.
"Mankind is as the sand of the desert. The wind blows it here, the wind blows it there. But…the wind can not blow the sand away, no matter how hard it tries. See the dunes out there? It's sand. It's the same sand I saw when I was young. It doesn't go away."
The Young Ones listened patiently. It would have been rude to interrupt.
"We are a people, as are the others. All people form a dune, that the wind blows this way and the wind blows that way. But no matter how hard the wind blows, the dune will still be here tomorrow and the days after that.
"And, my children, our actions are as the sand of the desert as well. Like us, our actions gather, become more, and create dunes around us. The wind may blow it here, the wind may blow it there, but the dunes will be here tomorrow and the days after that."
The Young Ones finally understood the wise words. A done deed cannot be undone. It is added to the dunes forming around us and can never be blown away, no matter how hard the wind tries to do so,
"And the crows, Old One?" A small boy at the back wanted to know more.
"Ah, the crows. Some believe them to be the spirits of those departed. But no, my children. Those black birds are more than that – they are shamed beings, but also messengers, prophets, scavengers of the future. Let me tell you about crows…"
When the world gathered her horizons around her and the wind was born, the wild animals were given tasks. Lion was to be king, dove was a peacemaker and oryx the judge. There were animals which dug the earth, which cleaned the veld and which kept the rivers clean. But crow? He was lazy and not fond of work. He flew away when the tasks were given and hid in the night.This, the other animals said,was wrong. Crow was then given a black coat and sent away in shame.
Now, the crow couldn't return to the other animals. It became angry and began hunting the weak and the vulnerable. It had become a scavenger of left-overs.
"But why would the crows want to go to the Biggest Family?"
"The dunes of the actions of that family contains much shame," the Old One said. "The crows would feed on that. The Bigger Family will think the crows have come to eat away their shame and wrongs, and then – relieved of that burden – they will do even bigger wrongs. The crows will eat and eat and the wrongs will become more and more. The wind will blow the dunes this way, the wind will blow the dunes that way – but they'll just keep on growing and becoming bigger."
"And then, Old One?"
"The dunes will become too big to remain where they are. The sand will start trickling down their slopes. The bad the Bigger Family had done, will run down the slope and cover them, suffocating them in their own wrongdoing."
And the leftover families listened to the Old One and waited for the crows.
"That's a crazy story, Gertruida. Crows and sand dunes and wind…? These old stories are fun to listen to, but sadly – their meanings have been lost in time,"
"Not so, Vetfaan." Gertruida wags a knowing finger in the air. "The government is of the opinion that their actions are condoned by the masses on the dunes around them. They are feeding the crows, my friend…"
For those who can't follow the Afrikaans words:
I know an age-old song
about life's joys and woes;
about shipwrecks long forgotten
to the cellars of the sea.
The words are lost forever
but still, the tune remains —
like a vaguely recalled image
from a very old folk tale.
Visions, dreams, and names,
have been scattered by the wind
and where all the words went
only a child could see.
Nomads, with no direction;
Seekers that won't find…
In the end, we are all just
children of the wind.
This entry was posted in History, short stories, smalltown short stories, South Africa and tagged justice, legend, life, myth, pride, writing 201 on February 19, 2015 by Amos van der Merwe.
The Legend of the Woman Caught in Between
"That's a strange photo, Gertruida." Vetfaan has been peeking over Gertruida's shoulder while she paged through one of her old photo albums.
"I took this in a remote spot in Zambia, Vetfaan, after the locals told me about The Woman Caught in Between. The picture, like the legend, is most appropriate."
There once was a woman who lived in a war torn land. Everybody – it seemed – was angry at everybody else, all the time. Towns fought against towns, districts took each other on in bloody battles and there was no peace in any of the provinces. Families were torn apart. Friendships ended in bloodshed.
One day, after the funeral of yet another of her sons, the woman sat crying alone under a big Acacia tree.
"Why," she asked the thorny tree, "do we have to keep on fighting? Surely we should be happy – there's enough room for everybody and the land could supply more than enough to eat and drink – provided there is peace. But no! Because we're battling each other all the time, there are no men to cultivate the land or look after the cattle. Now we're dying – if not from battle, then from hunger."
The Acacia tree – used to being scorned because of its ugliness and thorns – listened quietly, understanding every word she said.
"You have to move," it said.
"What, move to another country? Where? Are you crazy?" The woman was angry now. "This is the country of my fathers, and their fathers before them. I belong here. My children belong here."
"No, not your country. Your mind." The Acacia tree tried to look aggrieved, but only managed to grow a few more thorns.
"What?" The woman didn't understand.
"You have to move your mind, woman. Think new thoughts. Stop contemplating the wars of the past and start considering a time of peace and cooperation. It's when you stop fighting the wrongs of yesterday – and start building with the rights of tomorrow – that your tears will dry up and the lands will groan under the burden of the harvest."
"Oh." The woman didn't know what to say about the strange idea. But…could the Acacia be right?
She spent a sleepless night before returning to the tree the next day.
"I'm going to do it," she announced. "Think differently. Move my mind."
The Acacia was happy and sprouted a few blooms. "Remember, woman, that you have to move everybody's minds. This is no small task, I can tell you. Look at me: I'd like to get rid of my thorns, but my family refuses. So here I am, stuck with thorns for eternity."
The woman hugged the tree, despite the thorns. "It must be hard to live with such a history."
"It is. But you go ahead and try. Maybe you can get rid of your thorns."
And the woman tried. She spoke to warriors and mothers, to kings and children. And to her surprise, they all agreed: this was a brilliant idea.
When the day came for everybody to move their minds, the woman offered to go first. "I'll show you how. After all the hardships and sorrow of such a long time, I'll take the first step to liberate us all."
And the woman tried. She closed her eyes and made herself deaf to the sound of clashing swords. She shouldn't have done that. If she had realised that there were still swords dripping with blood, she might have survived. Still, she imagined a peaceful country filled with happy faces.
While she was busy moving her mind, a the fighting soldiers paused for a while. What? This woman wanted peace? How outrageous! No more war would mean they would actually have to work for a living? Exchange their swords and spears for shovels and ploughs? Work from dawn to dusk to provide food? No! That's not the way to go at all! Yes, some do die on the battlefield, but then you simply take what used to be theirs. That is so much better than working under the hot sun all day!
And so – for a minute or two, the woman got her wish. The fighting stopped. The soldiers turned on her and grabbed her before she could finish moving her mind. The shock of it all stopped the woman, hovering halfway between war and peace.
The fighting continued.
The swords remained red.
And the woman was kept in Between forever.
"That's a horrible story, Gertruida! So sad. Fortunately it's just a story…"
"No, Vetfaan. Not a story. Not a legend. It's the story of Africa in general…and South Africa in particular. We're sitting next to the Tree of History – actually, the Tree of Knowledge – and we don't understand a word it is telling us.
"We are, my friend, stuck in Between, doomed to remain there as a reminder of an impossible dream…"
This entry was posted in History, short stories, South Africa and tagged Africa, legend, myth on January 23, 2015 by Amos van der Merwe.
Adam's Calendar…again?
"Those guys are crazy." Tipping the glass upside down, Vetfaan signals for another beer. "To imply that South Africa has it's own Stonehenge is romantic and all that, but surely it's outrageous to suggest that some aliens visited us to start our gold-mining tradition?"
He's been browsing through Adam's Calendar: Discovering the oldest man-made structure on Earth – 75,000 ago by Johan Heine and Michael Tellinger, a book Gertruida donated to the church bazaar. It tells the story of a series of ruins in Mpumalanga in which the authors describe their ideas of an ancient civilisation in that area.
Ale's Stones
"Oh, people just love such ideas." As usual, Gertruida has to show off her vast knowledge. "Look, there are megaliths all over the world. Most of these structures are badly eroded, for sure, but they retain a certain aura of mystery.
"How do you explain Stonehenge, or Easter Island's Moai, or Ale's Stones in Sweden? It is only natural that some will want to explain these as relics from a distant past as signs of a lost civilisation. There is a catch, however: why are these structures spread out all over the world? South America, England, Malta – you name virtually any country – even Russia – and you'll find something there that science struggles to explain. So, because we don't believe Neanderthals were capable of more intelligent thoughts than our parliamentarians, we grab at the next best thing: aliens."
"Well, Genesis does say something about heavenly creatures who visited the daughters of man." Servaas has never been able to explain Genesis 6, especially the 'giants of men' that were born afterwards. "Maybe it were those big fellows who stacked up stones everywhere."
"And then the Flood came and wiped them out? After travelling a zillion miles across the universe, they drowned?" Shaking his head, Boggel serves another round. "I agree with Vetfaan about some explanations needing to be explained. Circles within circles, that type of thing. However much we delve into the legends of old, we still won't understand what a pyramid means, or how it was built. Theories? Yes, there are many of them. But can we duplicate those phenomena by building similar structures with no computers and not even a sliding rule?"
Credit: extraterrestrialcontact.com/
"Still, they say the Adam's Calendar was used to predict solstices and equinoxes and plan for seasons. The other strange thing is that this so-called calendar is on the same longitudinal axis as the Giant Pyramids and Zimbabwe's Ruins. And…" Vetfaan taps a calloused finger on the counter top, "they found a footprint."
"Ag, Vetfaan! The fact that you only found out about these things now, doesn't mean it's new news. Mr Tellinger has been going on for ages about the strange finds, the gold mines, and extraordinary devices these 'aliens' were supposed to have used. According to him, they used river water and electrons to generate the energy to mine gold. There's even a geneticist who supported the idea that this is where the ancient humans were genetically adapted to become superior beings.
"But, as intriguing as these theories might be, they remain mere stories, suggestions, attempts to explain the inexplicable. The question is: why? Why bother with such things if you know very well you can't really prove what you're saying? Or do these ideas contain a certain fascination, some form of entertainment, that makes us forget the real issues of the day – like when you're watching Carl Sagan's Contact? " Gertruida sits back in her chair, apparently exhausted by her long speech.
"Okay, I get it." You can count on Kleinpiet to muddle up a scientific discussion. He counts the points off on the outstretched fingers of his left hand. "First, you say primitive man erected massive buildings?" He gets a nod. "Then you maintain that these structures endured through the ages?" Another nod. "And that today, we cannot make head or tail of these things because we simply cannot explain why they were erected?" Yet another nod. "Nor do we have the faintest clue as to their function or use?" Nod, again. "And some allege that strange beings inhabited these places – possibly with the aim of digging for gold?"
A strange little smile – or is it a grimace – curls Kleinpiet's lips upward when the group at the bar utters a prolonged and exasperated "Y-e-e-es? So what?"
Adam's Calendar
"Them, my friends, Adam's Calendar isn't unique or strange. We've just witnessed a similar structure being erected in modern times. It's got all the characteristics: primitive man, no known function, inexplicable… It does have a protective wall around it and contains buildings that apparently are dwellings for a lot of people. It symbolises the solstice of the sun in the life of a single man, and now awaits the winter to come. I'll bet it even stands on the same axis as the pyramids, the Great Zimbabwe Ruins and Adam's Calendar – just draw that line farther south. And I predict that in a few years, that place will be as neglected as any site where you find archeologists poking around."
Nkandla. Credit: timeslive.co.za
They all get it immediately, of course.
"The only difference, Kleinpiet, is that with Adam's Calendar we're trying to explain the past." Getruida pats Kleinpiet on the shoulder. She's quite impressed with his analogy. "But with Nkandla, we already know what the future holds…."
This entry was posted in History, short stories, smalltown short stories, South Africa and tagged adam's calendar, Africa, ancient history, legend, mpumalanga, myth, nkandla on November 20, 2014 by Amos van der Merwe.
Credit: Wikipedia
"Why do we always have to talk about Greek and Roman history?"
Vetfaan's question makes them all look up. Surely they haven't just talked about Greece and Italy? But then they see the glint in the burly farmer's eye and realise he's up to something.
"Ye-e-es? What's on your mind, Vetfaan?"
"I just think that we have some perfectly good myths in South Africa, that's all. Instead of jabbering on about how wonderful the ancient Mediterranean peoples were, how about talking about our own stories? At least we can relate to them much better than these foreign tales."
"You mean like the story of the hawk and the chickens?"
It is said that, a long time ago, Hawk and the Chicken family were great friends. Because Hawk could fly, it was he who visited the flightless family every so often. They'd sit down and talk all day long, swapping stories and news. As for Mrs Hen, she welcomed these visits because Hawk never failed to bring toys as presents for the little ones. This went on for a long, long time.
Then, one day, Hawk arrived for a visit, but he had forgotten to bring along any toys. Saddened by his oversight, he produced the key to his house for the little ones to play with. Clucking happily, the chickens scooted off to the ash heap. where they played catch with the shiny key. But, like little chickens are, they soon tired of the game and found something else to play with.
When the sun was about to set, Hawk thanked Hen and Cock, and prepared to leave.
"Where is my key?" Hawk called the little chicks and glared at them.
Oh! The little ones took fright and ran over to the rubbish dump, where they searched for the key. Hawk waited and waited. When it became clear that his key was lost, he became very angry.
"My food is locked in my house!" His eyes blazed with fury. "What am I supposed to eat tonight? Get my key."
But look as they might, the chickens couldn't find the key.
Then, Hawk flew high into the air, swooped down again, and caught one of the little chickens.
"I shall return tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, for my key. You had better find it, Chickens, or I shall be forced to feed on all your children."
And so it came about that Hawk will forever patrol the skies to prey on his erstwhile friends.
And the Chicken family?
At dawn every day, Cock is up first, shouting: 'Get the ke-e-ey! Get the ke-e-ey.' And for the rest of the day the whole family will scratch, scratch in the ground and on the ash heap, hoping to find Hawk's key at last.
"Is that a real myth, or did you make up that story, Gertruida?"
For once, Gertruida seems uncertain. "I read a book, many years ago. It was a collection of Southern African stories, compiled and translated by A C Jordan. Fascinating stuff, I have to admit. But is was some time ago, so I may have changed the story a bit."
"But what does it mean, Gertruida? Sure, it tells the story of why hawks hunt chickens, why the cock crows so early in the morning, and why chickens scratch around so much…but surely there is a deeper meaning? African tales are famous for what they don't tell; even our oral historians specialise in that."
"You're so right. In Africa you have to be careful not just to listen to the words – you have to fill in the gaps yourself. Stories, speeches, statements – almost any communication, especially when delivered from a public platform – these all contain messages inside the message. Maybe it is true for politicians everywhere, but in Africa we have the masters of the art. Our politicians come from a tradition of storytelling, it isn't something they have to learn. We don't need spin-doctors like the Americans do – our politicians are DIY-spinners themselves – and experts at it."
"But still, " Servaas bunches the bushy brows together, "there must be a moral to the story?"
"It's the key, Servaas. The key." Gertruida takes a thoughtful sip of beer before continuing. "A hawk comes along and gives the chickens a shiny thing to play with. The chickens are overjoyed. Then the chickens mess things up and the hawk starts feeding on them." She pauses, sees that Servaas still doesn't get it, and sighs. It's so obvious!
"Look at what's happening in Africa, my friend. Russia wants to 'help' us by building nuclear power stations. China 'assists' many African countries by building roads and bridges and dams and schools. American aid ensures the survival of several governments – and the European Union supports a number of environmental and social programs. Do you think they do this because they have an obligation to render help to impoverished countries? Or are these efforts merely the key to gaining access to the raw materials Africa is blessed with? There's an old rule about investing: you want to get more out of it than you put into it. It's so simple…
"And don't think the story only applies to politics, either. Most relationships contain an element of this give-and-take attitude. That's why so many friendships get shipwrecked and why the divorce lawyers drive around in flashy cars. Too many individuals turn out to be hawks with shiny keys…it's so sad.
"I think the old Xhosa storytellers were wonderfully creative in telling their bits of folklore. They contained great wisdom and some serious warnings. If only we could learn from that and fill in the gaps, we'd be so much better off."
Vetfaan shakes his head. "So…Gertruida? Did the little chickens find the key?"
"Oh Vetfaan! Sometimes I wonder if you are capable of intelligent thought! It's a story, for goodness sakes!" Then, eyeing him critically, she smiles wryly. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"
"Fill in the gap, Gertruida, fill in the gap…."
This entry was posted in short stories, South Africa and tagged Africa, myth on October 2, 2014 by Amos van der Merwe.


text:
answeredquestions.html?tablingMemberPrinted.=Stephen%20Twigg&_page=0&answeringDeptId=16&_properties=answer.isMinisterialCorrection,hansardHeading,answer.questionFirstAnswered,tablingMemberPrinted
Stephen Twigg
Israel: Palestinians
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, whether his Department will be represented at the Bahrain Middle East conference on 25 and 26 June 2019.
Liverpool, West Derby

The UK will be represented at the economic workshop in Bahrain by the Exchequer Secretary to the Treasury Robert Jenrick MP.

Biography information for Stephen Twigg
Libya: Undocumented Migrants
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, what support the conflict, stability and security fund has provided to tackle irregular migration through Libya.

The British Government has supported a range of activities designed to tackle irregular migration in Libya through the Conflict, Stability and Security Fund (CSSF). Currently the CSSF supports the National Crime Agency-led Organised Immigration Crime Taskforce which, in the last 12 months, has supported the development of a Libyan-owned serious organised crime strategy, sharing best practice with the Libya Attorney-General's Office, and building niche law enforcement capabilities with trusted Libyan partners to tackle modern slavery and organised immigration crime threats. In addition, the CSSF is supporting the deployment of staff to the Operational Headquarters of EUNAVFOR Med Operation SOPHIA, the EU mission disrupting migrant smuggling and trafficking in the Mediterranean.

Sudan: Immigration Controls
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, what discussions has he had with his European counterparts on the EU's role in supporting border security and migration control in Sudan since December 2018.

The UK is part of a longstanding European Union - East African partnership on managing migration, combatting organised immigration crime and addressing the devastating effects of trafficking in the Horn and North Africa. Discussions occur through mechanisms including the Khartoum Process, of which the UK is a member of the Steering Committee. The last senior officials meeting of the Khartoum Process took place in Nairobi on 8-9 May 2018. British officials in Sudan frequently engage with EU counterparts on a variety of issues, including migration control and border security. Part of EU-African joint efforts to tackle organised immigration crime in the Horn of Africa is delivered through the 'Regional Operations Centre Khartoum' (ROCK), to which the UK has contributed funding for a specialist expert in the past. However, due to recent events in Sudan, EU funded work on the ROCK is suspended. British officials in London, the region and Brussels are in frequent contact with EU partners to ensure all work in Sudan reflects the current situation, in line with our human rights priorities.

To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, whether an Overseas Security and Justice Assessment has been undertaken for any of his Department's activity that supports the Libyan Coastguard or any other Libyan actors engaging in countering irregular migration.

All required Overseas Security and Justice Assistance (OSJA) processes have been completed. An OSJA was undertaken in 2016-2017 for historic Conflict, Stability and Security Fund support to an Assisted Voluntary Returns project and, in April 2017, to cover the UK funding contribution for EUNAVFOR MED Operation Sophia Libyan Coastguard and Navy training task.

Yemen: Diplomatic Service
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, whether he has made an assessment of the viability of re-establishing a diplomatic presence in (a) Sana'a and (b) Hodeidah in Yemen.

The security situation in Yemen means that we are unable to re-establish a diplomatic presence in Yemen. We will continue to keep this under review.

Cities of London and Westminster
Biography information for Mark Field
Yemen: Military Intervention
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, if he will make it his policy to support an independent investigation into the airstrike on two schools in Sana'a, Yemen on 7 April 2019.

We are deeply concerned at reports of an explosion at a warehouse near two schools in Sa'wan. British officials have raised this incident with Saudi officials, who have denied publicly that an airstrike took place, and British officials are urgently seeking information from all credible sources. We endorse the statement of the Special Envoy of the UN Secretary General of 9 April and continue to call on all parties to the conflict in Yemen to exercise restraint, comply fully with international humanitarian law and implement the Stockholm Agreement without delay in order to improve the humanitarian situation in Yemen.

To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, if he will make an assessment of whether the airstrike on two schools in Sana'a, Yemen on 7 April 2019 was a legitimate military operation in line with international humanitarian law.
Burma: Islam
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, what steps he is taking to tackle incidences of hate speech directed against Muslim minorities in Myanmar.

The UK continues to be deeply concerned by the incidences of hate speech in Myanmar. Our Ambassador discussed the impact of social media on intercommunal relations and the necessity of interfaith dialogues in his meeting with the Minister for Religious Affairs on 9 August. Our Embassy continues to work with local partners in Myanmar to tackle this issue.

The British Government continues to raise Myanmar at the UN Human Rights Council. We played a leading role, working with EU partners and the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation, and secured a UN Human Rights Council Resolution on 27 September that sets out the steps the Government of Myanmar should take to address the spread of discrimination and prejudice and to combat the incitement to hatred against the Rohingya Muslims and other minorities, by publicly condemning such acts and enacting necessary anti-hate speech laws.

We further secured a UN Human Rights Resolution in March which called upon the Government of Myanmar to step up action to combat incitement to violence and hate speech.

Trinidad and Tobago: Refugees
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, what representations he has made to the Government of Trinidad and Tobago on the treatment of Venezuelan refugees in that country.

The Government remains concerned by the humanitarian emergency in Venezuela and the consequent migration of millions of Venezuelan people. Minister for the Commonwealth and UN, Lord Ahmad of Wimbledon, discussed this issue with the Trinidad and Tobago Minister of National Security in January 2019. Our High Commissioner has also raised on several occasions the need for a process to register incoming Venezuelans with the Government of Trinidad and Tobago. The Trinidad and Tobago government announced in April 2019 that it will review its migration policy and legislation and produce an amnesty plan.

Rakhine State Advisory Commission
To ask the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, what recent assessment he has made of the progress on implementing the Rakhine Advisory Commission's recommendations; and what steps he is taking to support those recommendations.

The British Government welcomed the report of the Rakhine Advisory Commission and its recommendations. We note that the civilian government in Myanmar has accepted the recommendations contained within the report and we continue to push for full implementation. We recognise that the government has started work on responding to some of the recommendations, but there is still significant progress that needs to be made. We continue to offer assistance to the Myanmar Government to address the long term issues in Rakhine and deliver for all communities.

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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


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text:
package org.apache.camel.spring.config.scan.component;

import org.apache.camel.Exchange;
import org.apache.camel.Processor;
import org.springframework.stereotype.Component;

@Component
public class MyProcessor implements Processor {

    @Override
    public void process(Exchange exchange) throws Exception {
        exchange.getIn().setBody("foo");
    }

}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


The North Korean Foreign Ministry released a statement Friday threatening to restart the development of the country's nuclear arsenal should the U.S. refuse to lift sanctions. The threat comes during an uneasy period between Washington and Pyongyang, as the U.S. has insisted the economic pressures will remain until the North Korean nuclear development program has been effectively dismantled.
The statement says that North Korea is prepared to resume the country's "pyongjin" policy of advancing nuclear development simultaneous to economic growth if the U.S. fails to shift its approach and continues to act "arrogantly." The U.S. has remained adamant that sanctions will remain in place until the program is disassembled. However, Kim's regime has ordered for a piecemeal approach, in which sanctions are gradually lifted as the denuclearization process is underway. This is the closest the North has come to revamping its nuclear program since Kim motioned a new national policy in April, which signaled a shift in the country's focus away from nuclear advancement and towards improving the economy.
South Korea has also expressed discontent with the U.S's failure to lift sanctions on the peninsula, as the South envisions economic cooperation in the region and movement between borders.
During an interview on Fox News, U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo stated that he plans to meet with his North Korean counterpart next week to discuss the impasse. "A lot of work remains, but I'm confident that we will keep the economic pressure in place until such time as Chairman Kim fulfills the commitment he made to President Trump back in June in Singapore," Pompeo said. Earlier the same week he appeared on "The Laura Ingraham Show" where he discussed the possibility of another summit between Trump and Kim Jong Un, which would facilitate "a substantial breakthrough in taking down the nuclear threat from North Korea."
However, according to the Foreign Ministry's statement Friday, North Korea finds the U.S. approach laughable. "The U.S. thinks that its oft-repeated 'sanctions and pressure' leads to 'denuclearization.' We cannot help laughing at such a foolish idea," it reads. The statement goes on to express the country's view that while sanctions remain intact, there will be no room for improvement in the U.S. and North Korea's relationship. "Improvement of relations and sanctions is incompatible."


Once you have SAM Broadcaster installed and running select "Encoders" from the Window menu to begin.
Click the plus sign (+) to add a new encoder.
From the select plugin window choose "MP3 (LAME_ENC)" and then click ok.
In the Converter tab, select a 'Bit Rate' of 96kbps (Your Second Streaming stream will support connections of up to 192Kbps, however, whether your ISP connection can maintain this will depend on the number of applications using your internet connection, cable/wifi quality, how many hops your providers' network takes to reach the backbone of the Internet, contention ratios etc. We recommend you start at 96Kbps as a baseline, the quality of audio at this rate is near CD and will provide a great listening experience for most listeners. It can take some trial and error to find the best connection speed to use, even with a fairly poor connection you should be able to sustain a minimum of 48Kbps). Set 'Mode' to Stereo and leave the 'Sampling rate' set to Auto.
Under the Server Details tab, select ShoutCast in the 'Server Type' area then move to the SHOUTcast section below and select "v1", then enter you server IP address in 'Server IP', your port number in 'Server Port' and enter your password (user password not your admin password) in the 'Password' field. Under the 'Station Details'section you can name your stream, select a genre and add a url if appropriate. Your Second Streaming stream is provided in private mode for use in Second Life and does not connect to the SHOUTcast directory so 'List on public station listing' should be deselected, 'Enable title streaming' should be checked. Your setup is now complete and you are ready to broadcast. OK the encoder configuration.
You are now returned to the Encoders window, with the encoder entry you just created highlighted click the "play" button to begin your broadcast, when you are finished broadcasting, return to the encoders window and click the "stop" button to close the connection to your stream.


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Now reading: What Is A Mid Century Modern Sofa?
What Is A Mid Century Modern Sofa?
Mid-century modern is actually a term that was coined way after the period in which it refers. It is often the case with most design movements and eras. The label that now refers widely to certain furniture and even developments soon caught on. Not only is the term "Mid-century modern" used to refer to furniture, it is also used to refer to urban planning, architecture and even graphic design that was famous in the mid-1930s and 1960s.
The mid-century modern style is quite easy to spot. You can be able to identify it by its characteristic curves, clean lines and some easy geometrical shapes. It also happens to make use of materials like glass, metal and plastic. Mid-century modern furniture and design also happens to have a general space age feel. Probably what the future would look like back in the 1950s. You know, those peaceful colonies on the moon and using sleep pods? These are some of the characteristics of mid-century modern furniture.
Origins of the Mid-century Modern
The deep rooted origins of this distinctive style are deeply associated with one Swiss architect Le Corbusier and German Walter Gropius who also led the Bauhaus School.
With Mid-century design, the philosophy was relatively simple and straightforward. The practical use of the object or building was what inspired the design. All other unnecessary designs were thrown to the wind. Hence the phrase, "Form follows function." As opposed to being held up by the past, the designs were driven by the future and were dedicated to staying true to the materials that were used in their making. That meant that the materials would not be hidden or covered up. If a chair was made from a material like steel, it was evident and easy to spot the steel. As a result, items like buildings had a lot of flat surfaces and right angles and had a simple and stark look to them.
Scandinavia and the United States are the homes to what is now referred to as the Mid-century modern. This Modernist movement had great reach and influence worldwide back then and still do to date.
The Danish Modern
In the 1920s, there was a rise in furniture that brought together functionality and the Bauhaus modernist principles. The same Furniture around the same time also encompassed the elegance of the classic Scandinavian chair and cabinet making. The person responsible for this was Danish designer Kaare Klint. His designs and chairs were not only affordable but they were practical and could be produced in large numbers and added some homely warmth to the home by adding the beauty that only traditional furniture could offer.
In the next two decades, there were quite a number of designers that closely followed what Klint had done. They used the same principles as Klint as well as general design. This latter came to be known as Danish Modern. Among the most notable designers of this type was Finn Juhl. He was famous for creating a softer side to the hard right-angles that came with modernism. A good example of his unique works is portrayed in the pelican chair which he made in 1939. It showed traits of his work among them the organic forms and natural shapes.
Before Juhl's designs caught on in America in the 1940s, they were described by critics using an unsavory collection of words. One described the pelican chairs at the time as a "tired walrus" and another said it's "aesthetics in the worst possible sense of the word. However, they later became the pedestal on which mid-century modern style really took off.
America and Mid-century Modern
Eero Saarinen and Charles Eames once won a competition dubbed "Organic Design in Home Furnishings" that was held in 1940 by the New York Museum of Modern Art. At the time, the pair was not known. However, later on, they would go on to become the most important designers of the 20th century.
As with their predecessors, the two designers opted for simplicity, functionality, sleek lines and materials that were more modern. But, while they did share a lot with previous designers, the two did bring something new to the table: elegance that could be mass produced and fit well with an aspiration home in America. Time magazine at one time nominated a 1946 Eames molded plywood chair as the "design of the century" which was a true depiction of their ethos and spelled comfort and elegance. The design would later on be heavily copied but not much was done to improve the original design.
The molded plywood chair was a work of Eames and his wife Ray who also happened to be a very gifted designer. They created the chair for Herman Miller Company. Together with other companies like Knoll, the company was able to bring these designs that were considered modernists to the mass market. From the 1940s all the way to the 60s, these companies were responsible for making stunning chairs available to the masses. Most of those chairs are still produced to date and are quite common in TV adverts, restaurants, upmarket hotels and even offices.
During this breathtaking time for Design in the US, there were also other designers like George Nelson. He is better known for the Marshmallow sofa which he also designed for the Herman Miller Company. Other designers like Arne Jacobsen who created the egg and swan chair were the bark and bone which Eames and Saarinen thrived upon. Arne was also the key link that brought the Danish and American design world to a full circle.
What a Sofa from the Mid-century era looks like
In the 1980s, mid-century sofas and the style at large began making a resurgence. This was attributed to the light shone on the designs by a book by Cara Greenberg. However, the mid-modern look had to wait until the 90s to go full throttle. Some of the pieces that were original now sit in museums or are traded at staggering prices.
While the museum ready pieces of the 1950s were quite the history makers, sofas made in the current day and age tend to be comfier and practical. However, it can be clearly seen that the 1950s curvaceous and aesthetic appeal are very much relevant like in the case of the Zappelin sofa and even the Margot.
The works of Arne Jacobsen with the Swan and Egg chairs are also still very much alive and replicated in the retro-chic Peggy arm chair with the same curves and organic shapes.
Back then, designers believed that their boomerang shaped coffee tables and biomorphic chairs were actually a practical creation of the future. In a way, their beliefs were actually correct. While we do not live in moon colonies, we do make use of replicas and the same designs and amazing furniture that were put forth. Only that we now think of them as retro objects.
The Six Best Mid-Century Modern Sofa Designers
Finn Juhl – other than being the father of Danish Modern movement, he is also the one who is credited with having introduced the softer, geometric and organic forms style that bred the pelican chair.
Ray and Charles Eames – This American husband and wife duo is responsible for a number of classics most of which have since been mass produced. The molded plywood chair and the Eames lounge chair and the ottoman are just a few of their creations.
George Nelson – His most iconic work was the Marshmallow sofa. Just like the other greats like the Eames, he also made his creation for the Herman Miller Company.
Florence Knoll – Not only was this a great mind but also a Finnish-American architect that used her Knoll brand to mass produce some of the best classics. She also designed some of her own furniture.
Eero Saarinen – He is better known for his Tulip chair creation and the womb armchair. In conjunction with Eames, this Finnish-American designer and architect spear-headed the creation of the American modern style.
Arne Jacobsen – While there are those that are credited with bring modernism to America, Arne took it back to Denmark and used it to produce some breath-taking chairs. The Swan and Egg chairs are testament to this as well as the lesser known Ant.
Written by Danny Sattar
Mid Century Modern design
The Bedroom: Where Mental Health Meets Physical


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Comment Home Opinion
ALASTAIR CAMPBELL: Downing Street Christmas Party row puts democracy in peril
By Alastair Campbell
December 8 2021, 3.17pm Updated: December 9 2021, 10.11am
Boris Johnson leaves Downing Street for the Commons, where he was quizzed on the Christmas party held last December while Covid-19 restrictions were in place. Photo by Tayfun Salci/ZUMA Press Wire/Shutterstock.
A few days ago, as the Number 10 Christmas Party appeared to be fading from the political debate, I read and reviewed a book called Sad Little Men.
Written by Richard Beard, the sub-title explained the theme: "Private Schools and the Ruin of England".
As Boris Johnson struggles to contain the fall-out over a Downing Street party that is fast becoming as damaging and as totemic as his former advisor Dominic Cummings' trip to Barnard Castle, I had another flick through the book this morning.
It helps understand how he got into this mess, and why he is finding it so hard to get out of it.
Johnson went to Eton, and Beard, who went to Radley, argues that these "top" schools teach their students that they are superior beings.
They are bred never to say "I don't know," nor to admit to being wrong.
They are taught the power of insult.
And they are taught that if you get into a scrape, more important than what you did wrong, is how you get out of the tight spot you're in.
This breeds the view that laws and rules are for others.
"For people like us," writes Beard, "law was negotiable."
Boris Johnson believes he can survive anything – including this Christmas party row
He says of Johnson: "He flaunted shamelessly what the rest of us tried to conceal: he was chaotic, unformed, cruel, slapdash, essentially frivolous.
"When he messed up he was just a boy, with his boyishly ruffled hair, and expected to be excused. An expert dissembler, he discovered the best place to hide was in plain sight."
All this is worth bearing in mind as you watch Johnson lurch from one mis-step to the next.
He thinks he is cleverer than the people out to get him.
Boris Johnson leaves Downing Street on Wednesday on his way to Prime Minister's Questions. Photo: Tayfun Salci/ZUMA Press Wire/Shutterstock.
He has survived so many scrapes, at school and university, in journalism, in his private life, in his public life, that he thinks there is no scrape he cannot survive.
Truth is an optional extra. If you deny something often enough, it will go away.
A problem is always someone else's fault, a success always his.
These are his character traits. He cannot change them.
A government defined by its leader's rotten character
Not since Margaret Thatcher has a government been so defined by the character of its leader.
But there is a big difference.
For all that one could disagree with her political and policy positions, it was impossible not to recognise that Thatcher was someone of strong character, rooted in a clear set of values.
Because Johnson lacks the clear set of values, his character is closer to rotten than strong.
EXCLUSIVE: Video obtained by ITV News shows Downing Street staff joking about a Christmas party on 18th December last year.
No 10 has spent the past week denying any rules were broken. This new evidence calls that into question. pic.twitter.com/nKYK0tG0dQ
— Paul Brand (@PaulBrandITV) December 7, 2021
As Cummings said of him, he lies so effortlessly and so often that he no longer knows the difference between truth and untruth.
But once truth is debased as a currency of democratic debate, democracy itself is in peril.
That is why this story, and his repeated lying and dissembling about it, is about a lot more than Westminster tittle tattle.
It goes to the heart of who and what we have as our government.
'The law was broken inside Number 10'
Am I allowed to quote Mrs Thatcher here?
"The first duty of government is to uphold the law," she said.
"If it tries to bob and weave and duck around that duty when it's inconvenient, if government does that, then so will the governed, and then nothing is safe – not home, not liberty, not life itself."
The law was broken inside Number 10.
Johnson's instinct was to deny, lie, obfuscate, throw out distractions, wait for it to blow over.
It's all of a piece with his defending, not sacking, ministers found to have broken the ministerial code. When Priti Patel broke it, she stayed and the man who found her guilty left.
It's all of a piece with declaring war on judges, trying to get ministers above the law, weakening the Electoral Commission, undermining Parliament, undermining the BBC, making it harder to vote and harder to protest, packing public bodies with donors and cronies, tolerating and encouraging corruption in Covid contracting…
If this was happening in the Balkans, Asia or Africa, the same Tory MPs who vote through all of the above would call it out as evidence of a rogue state not worthy of our support.
Johnson has failed, and so have his backers
This is about so much more than a Christmas Party. It is about whether we still believe in basic standards governing public life.
The real purpose of stuff like this is to remind judges who is boss, to try and secure a more compliant judiciary. https://t.co/2qT1iYNZeo
— Jo Maugham (@JolyonMaugham) December 6, 2021
We don't need a review or an inquiry to establish what they should be. We have them already, as a result of John Major's government's response to sleaze in the mid-90s, most of which seems relatively innocent set against the crimes and misdemeanours of this lot.
The Nolan Principles. Honesty. Openness. Objectivity. Selflessness. Integrity. Accountability. Leadership.
Johnson fails on every single one of them, every single day.
And every day that Tory MPs continue to back him, they too play their own role in the debasing of public life.
The long-term consequences are incalculable and dire.
Alastair Campbell was Tony Blair's official spokesperson and Downing Street director of communications. He is now a writer, communicator, consultant, strategist and mental health campaigner.
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Prime Minister Boris Johnson


While we usually keep photos to our Instagram or Facebook pages, this was too cool not to share. A fan named Homyeon Kang drew (almost) the entire "Angel" MV on Illustrator in order. The drawings include everyone featured in the video, from the dancers to the family shown at the end. Check out all of his work here.


VOORHEES, N.J. — Martin Biron had more children (two) than career playoff wins (none) only three weeks ago.
Biron and his wife, Ann Marie, had a baby girl two weeks ago and the proud pop has barely had time to enjoy her. That's because the playoff rookie starter has been strong enough in the net that he's made the Flyers hopeful of cradling a different bundle of joy — the Stanley Cup.
Biron was sensational in Philadelphia's 4-2 victory over Montreal in Game 2 with 34 saves, and evened the series at 1-1. Biron's best stop might have come on a nifty glove save that denied Tomas Plekanec late in the second period on a breakaway attempt.
He posted a shutout for his first playoff victory in Game 2 of the first-round series victory against Washington. Then he had 39 saves in Philadelphia's Game 7 overtime victory against the Capitals that ended his winless mark this season (0-for-5) in the second of back-to-back games.
"There's eight teams competing for the Stanley Cup, so why not us?" Biron said. "It's the same thing for me. There are two goalies playing. Why shouldn't I be the guy to win the game?"
Biron hasn't been perfect — the Flyers wasted a two-goal lead in each of their Game 1 losses this postseason.