Mbeki’s siding with the Butcher of Khartoum is painful and incomprehensible. That the African Union must be maintained as a viable organization should never necessitate a choice between what is just and legal, against what’s politically expedient. The African Union should be an instrument of justice for all people of the African continent. What we have seen over the years is complete disregard of human rights in Africa, as dictator after dictator have ridden roughshod over their countrymen while others stand by the sidelines, with wide bemused grins.

Sadness weighs heavily on my heart as I look at many of these African rogues. It is even more painful and disappointing when one considers Mbeki who came onto the African stage with so much promise, so much hope for the poor of the continent. I judge Mbeki on a different scale, than, let’s say, Arap Moi, the former Kenyan dictator, because Mbeki’s of a purer pedigree and his tutorship was clean and democratic. He after all had Mandela’s blessings.

Sadly, Mbeki’s problem is not an uncommon one; it happens time and again when mere mortals try to fill the shoes of gods. After Mandela stepped down, many wondered if Mbeki had the character, intelligence and judgment to stand half as tall, half as upright as Mandela. Ten years have proved that Mbeki is a leader with feet of clay; a man of impaired judgment - one whose missteps include allowing himself to be hood winked by the likes of Khadafy.

The country he inherited could have been so much that it’s not now. His neighbors to the north had so much potential that has been leached by the tides of time, raw ambition and hunger for power; and pathologic hesitation on Mbeki’s part.

How, one wonders, could Mbeki be so blind as not to appreciate the horrors of AIDs among his own people? What illogical genius could have convinced him that Uganda’s success against HIV/AIDS with their ABC strategy was an aberration, and the dying South Africans were fiction? Knowing that Mbeki was sacrificing his own brothers and sisters to some inexplicable delusion, we waited, as HIV/AIDS continued to claim more South African lives. Mbeki could have saved them; he opted not to.

Mbeki could have saved Zimbabwe’s millions from the mad ambition of Robert Mugabe. He must have known that white farmers and the land they farmed, were used as pawns in Mugabe’s diabolical political gambit — a way to win votes and to remain in power — no matter that Zimbabwe’s economy was washed down the Zambezi. Youth must distinguish itself by forcefully restraining megalomaniacal old men.

By opting to do nothing, 3 million Zimbabweans are now in exile in South Africa, where hundreds were slaughtered by his own citizens out of fear that their livelihood was jeopardized by the immigrants. Prosperity needs champions; progress and human well-being need their own soldiers and committed advocates.

The disparity between South Africa’s haves and have nots continues to be pronounced. There has been no restitution for those dispossessed by Apartheid. Mbeki has ignored lessons he should have learned from Zimbabwe and Kenya, that: land reform should be tackled head-on; in the open and as judiciously as possible. The danger is land distribution is used by politicians to reward their cronies or to win votes. Even as Mbeki vacates the presidency, South Africa finds itself on a perilous perch. Every attempt should be made to defuse the likely explosion of the landless against the landed in South Africa.

Mbeki’s support of Al Bashir is but one failing among many; it was at first puzzling. It shouldn’t have. Mbeki is one of those black Africans, who watched the torture and killing in Africa from the sidelines; more concerned with the war the ANC was waging against the apartheid regime, than on the Arab murder and genocide against blacks in the Sudan. He is not much different from many sub-Saharan black leaders who think of Arab leaders as benevolent and benign; Arabs who reward them by delivering presents to their palaces in their impoverished countries.

Pius Kamau: Mbeki and the Butcher of Khartoum.

SOMALIA, ruined by civil war and foreign invasion, is considered the worst example of a collapsed country, according to an annual index of failed states produced by Foreign Policy magazine and the Fund for Peace, a research organisation. The top four spots on the index are all occupied by African countries, with last year’s leader, Sudan, falling a place. Africa is also heavily represented in the top 20, a list made up of enduring basket cases. Each country is given a score for a dozen political, military, social and economic indicators; the more unstable a country, the higher its total score. Zimbabwe has gained a place since last year and, given the current turmoil, could see its prospects worsen again.

Is it a moustache, do you think? I’m not sure. Ask many professed Africa experts about Robert Mugabe’s moustache, and about half of them will say, ‘He hasn’t got a moustache, are you thinking of Daniel arap Moi?’ It’s a tiny thing, nestling in the dimple of his upper lip. It can’t be a birthmark, because he didn’t have it when he was younger. I reckon he grew it in the late 1980s, when he decided to give dictatorial tyranny a proper crack. A dictator needs facial hair. The full Stalin can’t be pleasant in a tropical climate, and the Hitler, that’s just derivative. Nobody wants to be just another Saddam, and the African gentleman may often struggle with the full Fidel. Bob needed something new.

Britain has lost an empire and found a role: to faff on about pirates and biofuels (The Spectator)

Until recently, the concept of private life was basic to civilisation. Its value could be measured by the thoroughness with which totalitarian states and religions always did their best to stamp it out. But now we have to face the possibility that the latest stage of civilisation might also be trying to stamp it out.

Clive James - Someone’s watching you

In view of your failure to elect a competent President and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.

Her Sovereign Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy), as from Monday next

John Cleese’s “Letter to America” « Things Are Looking Up…

Benazir Bhutto was a courageous, secular and liberal woman. But sadness at the demise of this courageous fighter should not mask the fact that as a pro-Western feudal leader who did little for the poor, she was as much a central part of Pakistan’s problems as the solution to them.

South Africa presently has no opposition party that has any chance of meaningful power. Perhaps in time, the best option would be a split in the ruling African National Congress, but then the fear of violence and bloodshed will surely increase.

The ANC is now well and truly ensconced, with widespread corruption and syphoning of funds through all levels of power. Its clear that to rake in the bucks, you have to be a member of the ANC. And the problem of course is that it takes a powerful opposition to keep the ruling party on the straight and narrow. So while you are riding the gravy train what chances are there that you will join the opposition or split away.

Not until the abuse of power becomes absolutely clear to an educated majority of the voters.

Education is the key here, it may take a generation of educated South Africans before it becomes clear that the ANC should not be in power forever. While i am sure there are plenty of high minded moral ANC members - if i was a corrupt official I wouldn’t be that interested in improving the standards of education any time soon, nor would i be interested in expanding a diverse media through a free press, or supplying new media channels (say the Internet) to all points of this large country.

Some new photos from South Africa - Dorp means small town in the middle of nowhere (or in this case the Free State).

Of course nothing could be further from the truth. There is nothing less approachable than naked french girls on a Martinique beach, attired in little more than red nail polish. But Americans at the time were not accustomed to being around real live naked girls unless they were about to get laid. My boss promptly checked into the hotel and spent the next few days fruitlessly strutting his stuff.

French television and billboard advertising will often use female breasts in a variety of formats, right in front of the poor impressionable kids during prime time television. No-one bats an eyelid, or pays much attention for that matter, including the kids.

I remember watching the BBC’s Newsnight a few years ago when Benazir Bhutto, the rather pretty Muslim ex prime minister of Pakistan was being interviewed about some serious political and religious matters. I forget what they were. During a long - perhaps 20 minute debate, her head scarf was slowly slipping backwards off her head. Was she permitted to appear in public without a head scarf? I didn’t know. Nor did she realize that her scarf was slipping off. The tension was incredible, was it going to slip off? A few times it was tugged back into position, but finally her head and hair were uncovered.

It was very sexy show. I can understand that some might find this level of titillation unacceptable, but had she appeared without her head scarf, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, and might have paid attention to the arguments she was doubtless expressing with great skill.

The tea plant, Camellia sinensis, comes in many forms—black, green, oolong. What makes Camellia so healthful is its polyphenols, antioxidants that protect against cell damage and help prevent diseases like age-related decline, cancer and heart disease. But herbal teas like chamomile don’t have the same benefits. That is, all except one. The South African “rooibos,” meaning red bush in Afrikaans, has the benefits of Camellia without the caffeine.

Psychology Today: Tea from the African Bush

I have been addicted to Rooibos tea for several years now - excellent brew for the evening - but beware, it may not have caffeine, but it gives a little lift - not unlike the other Indian and Chinese herbs of the variety Camellia sinensis.

The problem with the word GOD, or GAAD in American Baptist (GAWD in London), is that no one can define what they mean by GOD - it could be almost anything, from a bearded man in the sky, to a general term for the sum total of everything. And if the answer is GOD - what is the question?

There is no point rattling on about a term if there is no clearly defined definition. I have a feeling that if you manage to define the term you will be half way to forming a new religion - and before long you will have more money than god (who is always broke).

Should you be able to define Gaad , you will also probably discover all his hidden names, and he will appear before you and split your head asunder. Though I doubt you can find any of His names, as God uses a different vocabulary to the average mortal - when was the last time you used the word “asunder” (or “smite”)?

But using “God” as a search term is always rewarding, you get the occasional theological discussion, a lot of cussing/swearing, a fair smattering of politics (too much GW Bush perhaps), the latest news on just about every war on the planet, and a not inconsiderable amount of Eric Clapton and various guitar legends. Not a half bad search term for a broad view of the general zeitgeist of the day. Economical to type, mostly entertaining and informative, even a little mysterious.

Please design and build me a house. I am not quite sure of what I need, so you should use your discretion. My house should have somewhere between two and forty-five bedrooms. Just make sure the plans are such that the bedrooms can be easily added or deleted. When you bring the blueprints to me, I will make the final decision of what I want. Also, bring me the cost breakdown for each configuration so that I can arbitrarily pick one.

Keep in mind that the house I ultimately choose must cost less than the one I am currently living in. Make sure, however, that you correct all the deficiencies that exist in my current house (the floor of my kitchen vibrates when I walk across it, and the walls don’t have nearly enough insulation in them).

Hello Media Brisbane Website Design Blog | Queensland

My Favorite from the 70’s - The Sex Beatles.

The Dilbert Blog: Funny Band Names

Fundamentalist Christian right "para church" ministries with apocalyptic theological views have penetrated the United States military in a pattern, we’ll shortly be demonstrating, that goes from the Pentagon on down to the base level, in which evangelical organizations, under the Campus Crusade for Christ, teach Biblical literalism and "Rapture" theology. These ministries have been invited onto US military basic training facilities to run "religious education" programs and evangelize recruits.

Daily Kos: Pervasive Pattern Of Fundamentalist Influence In Military

I continue to see news people wishing upon stars for some salvation from the change bearing down on them: fairy godmothers who will swoop in from government or foundations or rich families to provide magic money that lets them continue to do business as they have. Consider this Columbia Journalism Review piece wishing for government support of news and this New York Times report setting up the Poynter-Institute-owned St. Petersburg Times as an ideal.

One of the most insidious pressures on tech-savvy people these days is the seemingly constant pressure to provide quick, top-quality computer and web support — to our families.

But it’s a responsibility that can quickly grow to wreak havoc on our schedules. You soon find yourself barraged with calls, making house calls, and squeezing in last-minute requests. It’s like the freelancer’s worst nightmare client, except a) you’re not being paid, b) you can’t ask them to take their business elsewhere, and c) you’re expected to offer a lifetime guarantee.

The first from Salon:

the U.S. State Department denounced Ahmadinejad as himself little more than a terrorist. Critics have also cited his statements about the Holocaust or his hopes that the Israeli state will collapse. He has been depicted as a Hitler figure intent on killing Israeli Jews, even though he is not commander in chief of the Iranian armed forces, has never invaded any other country, denies he is an anti-Semite, has never called for any Israeli civilians to be killed, and allows Iran’s 20,000 Jews to have representation in Parliament.

Iran’s Ahmadinejad, public enemy No. 1? | Salon.com

The second from Dilbert Blog:

Ahmadinejad also called the holocaust a "myth." Fuck him! A myth is something a society uses to frame their understanding of their world, and act accordingly. It’s not as if the world created a whole new country because of holocaust guilt and gives it a free pass no matter what it does. That’s Iranian crazy talk. Ahmadinejad can blow me.

A Feeling I’m Being Had

Here, however (for what it is worth) is the definitive verdict of thermodynamics: water is not a fuel. It never has been one, and it never will be one. Water does not burn. Water is already burnt — it is spent fuel. It is exhaust.

news @ nature.com - Burning water and other myths - We will never stem the idea that water can act as a fuel, says Philip Ball.

Last nights Newsnight on BBC2 painted a disturbing picture of life in Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe - check the link above for an outline and link to the video.

What is even more disturbing to me - with cholera epidemic just around the corner, people starving, and a life expectancy in the middle thirties for most people - is the continued complicity of the South African government and all that this implies - they are not about to condemn a brutal dictator because of the colour of his skin.

Its hard to imagine that conditions are any better for most people than during apartheid regimes of the past. The new rulers of southern Africa don’t seem to have read George Orwell’s Animal Farm - far from it, they seem to relish the prospect of grabbing power for themselves and screwing the people into the earth. There is going to be no revolution while people are busy starving. Meanwhile as the rulers in South Africa look over their shoulders in paradoxical envy, South Africa itself is flooded with poor Zimbabweans surviving as best they can in gangs that rob loot and rape.

Someone once suggested to me, that if the rest of the world threw up a fence around Africa - no one outside of Africa would give a damn. Apart from some resources - its hard to argue with this viewpoint. Is Africa going to be a mess forever? Is it all the fault of the colonial past - if so why isn’t East Asia in the same mess?

Jim Morrison’s 1966 ecological message - still great after all these years:

What have they done to the Earth,
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn,
And tied her with fences and dragged her down.

So when the music’s over,
Turn out the lights.

A must see - if you have broadband and a spare hour and a half .

Further contemplation of the map reveals a “Zone Touristic” along the eastern beaches of Djerba. Not a good sign, but having decided on a whim that Tunisia sounded like an exotic destination for a family vacation, logistics demanded that we locate near the sea. I found an excellent looking “residence” outside of the zone touristic but within walking distance of the sea - so i booked a week and we flew down “en familie”.

See the Map

The best hope i have for Djerba, is that they find oil on the island and some aggressive nation, near far or local, decides to invade, and in the process levels the “Zone Touristic”.

The idea i believe is to fly down tourists by the bucket load, then pack them on the baking beach while providing an “all inclusive” holiday. Each hotel had its own 100 meters of beach front, patrolled by security in case an inhabitant of a nearby “all inclusive” should decide to partake of a finer vintage of inclusivity. Security was tight, but we had been given rights to one of the nearby hotels facilities by our “residence”. Even so, without the tell tale bead bracelet, whistles were blown in our direction any time we strayed outside the 3 meters of wet sand or wandered towards a pool.

I have as much desire to spend my day next to 100’s of oiled up tourists, as i have to spend my days riding the London Underground. So leaving this beach was not a problem. If you want to find the most expensive hotel in the zone, and spend a few days within its confines - i do believe you could have an enjoyable weekend - assuming it is the middle of winter in the northern hemisphere and you have serious vitamin D deficiency. But its not my gig.

The zone touristic stretches along the sea front for 10’s of kilometres. Some hotels were smart and exotic and no development was over 2 stories high. But outside of the actual hotels are vacant lots - best way i can describe them - filled with rubble and garbage. It seems like some older building projects (or perhaps an ancient civilisation) has been bulldozed to the side to make way for the latest development, then left to fester in any open space available. On one side of the coast road are the “all inclusive” hotels, inter-spaced with vacant lots of rubble and garbage, on the other side of the road are cheap Disney World type fast food restaurants selling limp chips and flyblown salad Tunisian (with the inevitable topping of canned tuna), crappy boutiques filled with belly dancer Halloween costumes and hookahs and all the tat that the misguided locals seem to think tourists would be delighted to accumulate.

As you move inland things improve, the buildings thin out and some evidence of palms and olive groves can be found. There are smaller vacant lots of rubble and garbage and some smart looking villas among the sandy roads. Everything is separated by empty lots or half buildings and rubble. I don’t know if Djerba went through a boom period and things have now slowed down, or perhaps they only build at night or in winter, but i never saw any evidence of serious construction, no sign of workers toiling in the 36 degree heat - and who can blame them, but how did all these half finished buildings get there.

Given my lack of enthusiasm for the “Zone Touristic”, I am happy to report that our rooms at “Residence Amphora Menzel” were excellent - half a mile back from the chaos of the main road and the ZONE. An imaginatively decorated 2 storied 2 bedroom 2 bathroom 3 balcony “residence” with a kitchenette. Cooled by 3 air con units and surrounding a courtyard festooned with cushions and carpets. Merek the owner and our guide, gave a resoundingly warm welcome, catered to our every whim, gave excellent advise as to what to see and avoid, provided a hire car delivered to the door, and was general good guy and friend. A worldly doctor in Paris he developed these 6 residences in 2001 which he then furnished with taste. He paid relentless attention to detail, and was available at all hours. Merek chatted and fed us mint tea on the carpets in the courtyard and he quickly spotted my lack of enthusiasm for all inclusive beach bumming and suggested a two day drive into the interior in search of authenticity and oasis.

Our drive across the island at 7:30 in the morning, painted the island in a more favourable light than our excursions of the previous day in our hire car. Things get better towards the centre and south of Djerba, more olive groves, but all set in a flat uninteresting landscape. And any time you get close to tourist spots of the slightest interest, the bartering with the insistent locals gets tiresome. You expect to be pestered in the north African Souc’s, you have to develop your skills with humour and patients, and don’t let the first guy to come along latch onto you or you are stuck with him for the duration. “Hey remember me from the hotel” was a common introductory phrase.

We caught the ferry to the mainland and found ourselves on the continent of Africa, drove north along the chaotic main road to Tunis and at Gabes, turned left towards Kebili and Tozeur. Driving through the towns is always interesting, scooters and pedestrians cross the road without a look in any directions- right into your path. After a while i wondered if it was not a ploy to be hit by a hire car and extort money.

This was a harsh land, a trickle of water the only reason for any town to develop, and as we headed west it got hotter. Excursions in the middle of day went only a few feet from our air-conditioned tourist mobile. As the day progressed people were harder to spot, anybody with any sense was in the shade somewhere. Then we went through Kebili and a series of “Palmiers” and oasis and found ourselves on a salt desert with only gleaming crystals for miles in either direction. Car failure here would have been interesting, if not life threatening. When we stopped on the edge of the salt desert the temperature must have been well over 40 degrees in blasting baking wind. Having a pee felt like doing the place a favour.

Crossing the “Chott el Jerid” successfully we saw a line of palms rising slowly from the gleam, floating like a mirage above the heat, and turned south towards Tozeur, following the dusty villages who support the few palm oasis on the edge of the salt pan.

Tozeur is another tourist destination, and horror of horrors, has a “Zone Touristic”, with all the appeal of all the “Zone Touristic” that we had so far encountered. Air conditioned Gaudy hotels with Alibaba codpieces, speckled with dust blown fast food monstrosities. But the “Palmier” here is a big deal, dates farmed from homes behind elaborate gates with irrigation systems plumbed into the fabric of the soil. We had hoped to find a meal on the edge of the oasis and enjoy a light lunch, but after driving through the palm groves for long enough, we finally happened upon the “Little Prince”. What a dump, designed it appeared to accommodate coach loads of tourists in a semi air-conditioned light less dungeon.

Is the notion of what tourists actually might want, so far removed from the Tunisian mind that they plonk them in the first space they can air condition. How difficult would it be to create an elevated and shady retreat overlooking the palms of the oasis. Make it out of palm trunks and leaves, surely easier than the brick and cement buildings that were always evident in their half completeness.

Stocked up on cokes and headed north to Tamerza!

And then it got interesting again crossing the near desert, with a line of mountains visible in the distance and “beware of the camels crossing” signs next to the road. On the left we thought we could see signs of water, but it became apparent that these were actually heat mirages.

At the foothills we followed a series of oasis up to Tamerza and checked into the “Tamerza Palace”. Overlooking the ruined old town of Tamerza that had been washed away when it rained for a half an hour back in 1969, it was a truly spectacular location. Perched on the side of the hill; a four star hotel with cool swimming pool, comfortable rooms and good food. We freshened up, then took an early evening walk in the palms oasis before heading over to Mides for the sunset. We found a delightfully sad old guide who claimed to be one of the original inhabitants before the old town of Mides had also washed away. He missed the old days he said and showed us the ruins where he was born and brought up. Now they had to build brick buildings, the palm groves couldn’t support the village, and things just weren’t the same. 2 dinar for a bottle of cold water seemed reasonable.

I leaned out dangerously over the precipice and took a shaky shot over the canyon made famous by star wars movies, our guide stood next to me like a mountain goat while my family wailed at my stupidity - i had all the passports and money.

We were one of only 4 parties dinning at the Tamerza Palace that night - real bear and wine with the meal. A location not to be missed, and my North African skills were improving - we managed to haggle the price of our suite down by 100 Dinar.

The next day we drove back through Douz and Matmata. In Douz we found hundreds of camels sitting beside the sand dunes of the Sahara, all saddled up and waiting, it appeared, for coach loads of tourists to take an hour excursion into the desert. In Matmata we found the troglodyte dwelling holes of former the inhabitants - another tourist trap. Between the two towns we actually ran across a line of camels crossing the road. The “camel crossing” road signs were not a tourist ruse.

Between Matmata and Metameur we had the most beautiful and authentic drive of return journey. The town of Toujane appeared unspoilt, real Tunisians sat outside the houses keeping cool. We had finally found a Town that had not been driven to gaudiness by the relentless march of the Tour operators.

When we finally returned to the 36 degree heat of Djerba and the Amphora Menzel, it felt cool, chilly even - and it felt good to be out of the rain.

Good music i believe does the same thing. Our musical tastes are expanded when a common sound takes a new twist. We also seem to like music that conjures up the past, even the recent past. A good tune is almost never interesting on the first listen, and a crappy tune we digest and get bored by after only a few plays.

cover of the punk band “Dead Kennedys” single “holiday in cambodia“

Music also seems to be innate, we all like some of it. Even the dumbest understand music. Not everybody likes abstract art, yet music is totally abstract. Music seems to beat the time of our lives -starting with our mothers heartbeat. As we get older some music we have listened to in our past makes a short cut to memories in our brains, much as a smell from our childhood can take you right back to buried memories.

I wonder if rock and roll will survive the internal combustion engine? The rise of rock and roll could be linked to adolescent access to dads car in an affluent America of the 50’s. “Driving” power cords on a Stratocaster sound similar to an engine (just play “Born to be wild” by Steppenwolf or L.A Woman by the Doors ). If you are driving in the USA, there is good driving music and there is crap driving music- non of it can be played on an acoustic guitar.

When the oil runs out, and assuming we can still light up our ipods, will hard driving rock music still be popular? Bach could never understand modern music, but maybe after a year or so on a road trip across the USA in a car with a big V8- he might understand why.

So when the oil runs out will we all get into new age humming. And after the last memories of the car have died off, will our descendants wonder what the hell we were listening to.

Oh, and just in case you think i have dropped a rod - I also think one of the first punk songs was the batman theme song from the 60’s TV show. Just have another listen to “You’ve got my Number” by the undertones.

Geek thrills are pretty sad.