Tales of Mu

Videos about reality and fiction

2009-03-31T12:50:00.004+02:00

This post is following up one of my previous entries from last year about fiction and reality and how they inteweave. Here are a few video interviews with Salman Rushdie, from the Charlie Rose, website where he discusses this very phenomenon that every writer and reader encounters.

Click on the URLs below:

About magical realism
http://www.charlierose.com/view/clip/9515

About fantasy in writing
http://www.charlierose.com/view/clip/9514

About how pain affects writing
http://www.charlierose.com/view/clip/9516

FIFA Widgets

2008-10-17T07:35:00.002+02:00

I have added some FIFA.com widgets to my blog for all football lovers to catch up with latest news, rankings and pictures on the great game. Check it out below. It will be below every one of my blog posts from now on. Enjoy!

Some photos from Nanjing

2008-10-14T14:22:00.008+02:00

These are just some pics my friend Umida (Whitney) took while we went out on the prowl at night. I miss those nights in Nanjing.

To the left is Umida's friend from Russia, Katya, behind is me, to m,y right is the sexy Aussie Brendan and below him is Umida (Whitney). The lady in the traditional garb comes from the predominantly Muslim Chinese province of Xinjiang near Tibet. She can't speak a word of Mandarin.

Brendan getting some ear action.

Silly we are.

Brendan messing some yoghurt. I never had such good yoghurt in my life. And I'm not a lover of the curd!

My New Friend With The Afro Comb

2008-09-28T12:03:00.011+02:00

One night while walking through the Zhujiang Lu subway station I spotted an anime toy shop (cue Tarun's smile...and envy, hehe). I thought I would take a look as I appreciate these sort of things. But in the window of the rather tiny store, I saw a fat guy with a green t-shirt as the one in the picture here. I just had to get it. I mean, why of all the places in the world I had to find this figure in China, a place that doesn't even know what poonanie means. It was surreal.
Nevertheless, since no one bought the figure in a long time, probably because nobody understands the humour behind it, I managed to knock the price to half of its initial charge. I paid RMB70 for it. The price on it was RMB140. So now it sits on my work desk in my room, flashing his bunny teeth at me and tracing his finger. It smiles proudly about its two purposes in its life, looking cool on my desk and looking for something all heterosexual men crave.
I think its hilarious. The afro comb is a neat touch and his checked shorts are so old school. But I bet Magans will love the t-shirt. It resembles the jersey of a very famous American football team. Go Packers!

Another thing I bought so far, and am learning, is Xiangqi, or Chinese Chess. It's similar to international chess but has a few twists. One is that there is a river, something that the elephant piece can't cross. Then you have the canons, probably the most powerful piece on the board. Yeah, there';s more to learn so when I get back to SA I will be sure to teach you guys.

And another thing I discovered for all you vampire lovers out there is the Jiang shi. It's the Chinese version of the vampire. It has one leg (kind of look likes two legs bound together) and they hop vast distances. There's no way you can escape this dude.

Speaking of bloodthirsty vampires

There have been a few events that have occurred in the last week that have got me thinking about certain philosophies of life. Mainly the Finnish college killings, the firing of President Mbeki and the rearranging of the face of South Africa's cabinet.

Firstly, I have been really disgusted at the amount of pollution in Nanjing. However, Saturday morning blew me away. I woke up to the first ever clear sunrise with blue skies above the skyscrapers. It was magnificent. Even the students told me about it. But as Morpheus said in the Matrix, “It was us (humans) who scorched the sky”. And that is evident in China. I see it in here in Nanjing. Although, on Friday night, the clearest night of all, I did see a falling star, a liu shing in Chinese. I heard Beijing is the worst. And the time I spent in Shanghai, I found it a little dirty.

However, the Chinese people's way of life is nothing as polluted as its skies. In fact, they are the most honourable, polite and tolerant people I have ever met. They abide by Confucius' dictum of collectivism, which is also emphasised by its communist/socialist ideals. This is evident in Buddhist philosophy as well as in India because of its Hinduism.
I read a story about a Finnish student who killed eleven people in his college. The report (click for the News24.com story) said that individuality, not only in Finland but in most Western nations, have contributed to the violence in those societies.

I had a conversation with Priya through a series of SMSs and learned a few things.
Ever since I've been in China I've learned that individuality, believed to be the height of freedom in the West, is actually an illusion. I also fully believed in this concept when I was living in Johannesburg thinking that my individuality is something to hold on to and hone. I thought that establishing my individuality was essential to helping society. Though individualism has many benefits, it also is the victim of its own ideals. It has created greed, selfishness, envious, egocentric humans. It has warped the collective psyche of societies. Therefore, apathy was another phenomenon spawned from individuality.

Collectivism, as in China, creates a sense of community. Things such as muggings never go unpunished here. It teaches us to tolerate and understand each other and to care for your neighbour. In the West, we don't even know who our neighbours are. It protects people from harm and ensures unity. Well, I think their unity is because they are proud of their common, homogeneous, background. They're all Chinese, sharing the same history and language as well as the same values, ideals and morals.

But collectivism does have its flaws. It holds onto questionable traditional values such as the inferior woman complex. Women in China, though, look to be shedding that stigma. The men are doing the cooking and the girls are doing the shopping. They have become very materialistic. It's got something to do with not wanting to live like their mothers.

Collectivism has also contributed to low self esteem in kids. There has been a suicide that has grabbed everyone's attention in China. One of the reasons was because this girl couldn't handle her own problems. And why? Because she was an only child, spoilt to the core. And since China has a one-child policy, there have been millions of kids brought as if they were princes in palaces.
So like Priya said, both individualism and collectivism have their benefits and flaws, it's just finding the balance between them. And such diversity makes South Africa an interesting place. But not when people are getting killed and raped and imprisoning ourselves in our own homes. I live in the seedy part of Nanjing and I can still take a walk at midnight. South Africa is trying to do it by incorporating tribalism and communism with capitalism and all its doing is tearing society apart. The crime is one example of this not working.

I read in the China Daily newspaper that in England, certain towns are creating their own currencies so that they do not have to suffer with the flailing pound. The one benefit of each town having its own currency? It creates a sense of community. I guess South Africa can start there if they want to get rid of all its ills.

Doing the Chinese Odyssey alone

2008-09-06T07:05:00.004+02:00

Two weeks of my Chinese odyssey has gone by, and it included my first week of teaching. I must say, these are the most diligent, polite and respectful students I have ever met. From what I have experienced so far, its been fantastic. Im, starting to grow very fond of them. If this was South Africa, kids will be strolling in ten minutes after class started without as much as an apology. In SA we just accept such behaviour. In China, they loathe it.
The students, between 19 and 21 years old, are attentive and helpful. I want to learn Mandarin, so a student offered her time to do so. And she chose to teach me for an hour within the two hour lunch break.

But such characteristics are not only part of the students but pervades through Chinese the entire Nanjing society. Last Saturday night, I was caught by the heavy downpour while I was exploring the city. Luckily I bought an umbrella on the way. So I saw a tiny shop open in the middle of nowhere and decided to ask for directions. Of course the shopkeeper and I were unable to understand one another and then when we both gave up, he told me to have a seat and watch a movie with him, which he was doing on a portable DVD player.

Then when the rain eased up, I decided to continue my exploration, only to realize I was lost. One thing I learned here is that the streets are not linked like they are in SA.

And just as I had that realization, the rain came down again. I walked on till I saw a man struggling to start his scooter. So I went up to him and covered him with my umbrella. I noticed a young man, probably around 30 years old.
"Oh, thank you, thank you,” he said.
Ok, at least he spoke a bit of English.
“You very kind,” he said.
I was feeling a little more comfortable with those familiar English words.
We walked on and spoke until we crossed some bridge. He, too, realized I was lost. He asked if I needed help. I, being proud, said no.
“You don't walk around here till late,” he said. “Is not good.”
“I'll be fine. I will find my way,” I said.
“Come stay by me, then you leave tomorrow morning.”
“No, it's okay. Don't worry,” I said, growing annoyed.
He persisted.
“Okay, I call my friend. She speak English. She help you.”
The friend couldn't help much. And so he invited me to stay at his home again and persisted once more until he saw a bunch of cop cars outside a KFC.
“Wait, wait. I get help.” He walked across the road to the KFC. I tailed him, telling him to drop it and not to worry. But he didn't listen. His sole purpose at that moment was to find help for me.
I got a little angry at the guy.

Eventually, he brought one of the cops. Thankfully, he could speak English so he asked where I needed to go.
“Nanjing Railway College.”
“Do you know the name of the road?”
“I think it's Jian Ling Road.”
The copper stood there stumped. Upon seeing his expression, a half a dozen more cops came to us, surrounding me. I felt like a perp. But their faces all showed that they were willing to help.
Then when they figured out the street's name, they laughed at me. I was pronouncing it wrong. I was getting used to being laughed at, being the ass of their jokes.
So they called their department, got the address and wrote it on a piece of paper.
The gentleman who initially got help for me, waved for a taxi, made sure the driver knew where to go and let me go safely.
Just before I jumped in he kept on asking whether I would be fine. I assured him I would.
Finally, the taxi took off and in fifteen minutes, I got to my apartment. But that's how they are. Extremely helpful, generous and humane.
I think it's got something to do with the philosophies of Confucius (Kung-Fu-Tzu in Chinese) and Lao Tze. Their teachings are the bedrock of Chinese civilization and has been so for over last 2,500 years. They preached of values and morals, mostly respect for the fellow human and respect for your parents. They believed there was a natural instinct to distinguish right from wrong and that we all tilted to the right way of life. Not even dire circumstances could make a person turn into an evil being. They believed in a fair government (during their time there were imperial kings ruling) and they also lived by the fact that they, as individuals, were insignificant and were only a small cog that was part of a bigger scheme. It's evident in how the Chinese see their age. They each have an individual birth date, but every single Chinese's age only changes in the auspicious Spring Festival. Though I may have turned 26 in July this year in Western terms, The Chinese would still say I'’m 25, and that I will turn 26 next February, during this festival. So they’re all one and the same. One Chinese working for the sake of China.

This morning I woke up thinking of all the people I love back home in SA. From my friends to my family. I started thinking of what my colleagues have been telling me. That it can get lonely.
What spurred my thoughts was what Brendan, a fellow teacher from Australia, asked last night when we went out to the bar.
"Would you be able to handle a whole year?" he asked, while we walked around the streets.
I thought I could. And I suppose I can. I have stayed in Gauteng before. Alone but not lonely. I never grew lonely before.
But at least I got to see my friends and family in Joburg. I got to trek back to East London when I wanted to see my folks and siblings. But in China, I wouldn’t see anybody for a year. An entire year！
I wouldn’t be able to irritate Deepa, swap stories of our schooldays with Anesh, or have a profound conversation with Vinay. I would be able to make gat with Amit and Sanjay, play football with the Ouens in Joburg. I won't be able to drive around with my father delivering pies every morning or be able to feel my mothers hands against my back when she rubs it. I won't be able to spin by Tarun and joke around with him or laugh when I see Kavi with that broad jerk off smile. Popping by Ritz at Plaza Stationers will only be done through my memories. I won't be able to smoke sheesha with Priya nor would I be able to share a glass of wine with Binaica. I won't be able to squeeze Varsha's cheeks nor would I be able to go shopping with her.

ALL FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR! OR MORE! WHO KNOWS!

I realized what Brendan meant. It was a daunting thought. I'm surrounded by people who can't speak the same language as me.
“That's one of the things that can make it lonesome,” said Brendan.
It's not like you can have a chat to the person sitting next to you on the bus, the way I used to do in Joburg. TV is basically obsolete as there is nothing that a foreigner in my situatiion could be interested in.
So Brendan had a point. It struck me more when we went to Castle Bar, a place where most of Nanjing's foreigners go to have a drink, talk and relax.
Whitney, another colleague from Uzbekistan also suffers from loneliness at times but keeps herself occupied with the work we do.

But then again, isn't part of an adventure the acceptance of being alone. Overcoming loneliness through the act of learning. Ultimately, learning is what combats loneliness. I read a book titled “The Adventurer,” by Paul Zweig, and he mentions the same thing. Odysseus, Homer's hero in Greek myth, accepted that loneliness is part of the hero's journey. It's what strengthens the person. The same statement was made by Joseph Campbell too.
Loneliness, or being alone, is not something that should deplete a person but rather transcend them to a higher consciousness. This is when we can spend the most time reflecting on whatever we want.
Not only those who lived abroad experienced loneliness but even those East Londoners who left for Joburg. We all had our bouts of loneliness. We just found ways to work around it. And it helped us in the long run.

Like my friends, who are abroad now, are realizing that it's family and friends back home who matter most to us. Saffiyah in Italy has just mentioned it to me, Priya in London has always thought so from the first day she arrived there (you can check her blog at chocomumbojumbo.blogspot.com) and Sumayya, also in London, seems to be slowly realizing it too. She calls it confusion and perhaps feels a bit of emptiness now. But when our travels end and we return home, we will always look back at our experience as one of the greatest we ever had. Mainly because it was life altering. It shifted our paradigms.
No matter how much we change on our journeys and no matter how long it was since we last spoke to our loved ones, we always lend a thought to them at least once a day, whether it be in our hearts, memories or prayers. Our family and friends are always tagging along with us in our hero's journey.

To all the adventurers out there

2008-08-27T09:07:00.002+02:00

Mind the mistakes. I didn't get down to edit this post.

After seven weeks of waiting my hometown of East London, I finally made it to China. I got a story to tell. And this is how it goes.
I have just spent my first two days in one of the oldest, most stringent civilisations countries on the planet. China. I left Johannesburg, on Krishna Jayanthi of all days, not knowing what I was doing to myself. I was flying to a country that didn't speak the same language as I did. So obviously I didn't understand this complex country either. I would be walking into a place not knowing its psyche. All I knew, of course was that it was safer than my home country. I think they just don't trust other countries as there were always kings, emperors and presidents who tried to violently take over this land.

At first we stopped off at Dubai International. It's one of those places you just know is one of the world's major cosmopolitan centres. It reminded me of one of those ports a gamer would find enthralling in Final Fantasy or one a reader would marvel at while reading a novel about 1800s New York. People of every colour, from each continent and different cultures can be found there. One thing I noticed is that there is a monoculture that underlies this cosmopolitan hub. Everyone is dressed in similar fashion, speaking on similar cell phones.
The on differences are the languages and the way we walk. I haven't come to a decision upon how us South Africans really walk, but I can assure you it's a lot less tight arsed than many out there. Especially if I compare us to this one French guy who, when I was talking to myself as per usual, gave me an ugly, puzzling look and said, "vhat?" I looked at him angrily and just said quite sternly "I'm talking to myself, bud." He just turned his head and faced his computer screen, egg-faced.

Then I flew to Shanghai, quite delighted to learn that the co-pilot and two stewards on board were South African.
I met a very polite Ghanaian named Isaac and an Indian dude with a pseudo-American accent named Shaheen. We got along well, and since both have stayed in Shanghai before, I learnt a lot from them. They warned me about how people walk in the streets. They bump you and walk pass. It's normal and should not feel offended, said Isaac. They also love clearing their throats loudly and spitting on the sidewalk. They also like staring, especially if you're black. The way they scrutinised Isaac at the passport and baggage checks bordered upon disgusting. And yet, Isaac was probably the one person I could trust on that plane.

Then I met the guy who was to pick me up. He called himself Yaobhe, or so I thought that was his name when he said it. So for the entire day I called him by that name, not until I learned that it's actually Robert about ten minutes ago. I needed someone to fix my toilet, so they said I must speak to Robert. When I asked them who Robert was, they pointed to his office, only to find "Yaobhe" there.
So anyway, he picked me up. He seemed a decent guy; tall, a little chubby, with that ill self confidence that many IT techs have. But he was confident enough to help me catch the taxi and book into the hotel. I would have been stumped for a little while had he not been there.
But as soon as I shook Robert's hand, introducing myself, I thought of what my neighbour in Jo'burg once told me. "You must make sure that these people are not duping you. I wouldn't want to arrive in China one day working as a sex slave." Firstly, why would my neighbour be wandering around the crummy parts of China, I would like to know.
So I was wary about Robert at first, not trusting him fully. He even said we were going to share a room, but I asked if we could have separate rooms instead.
When we arrived at the hotel, Starway, I met the cute receptionist. She seemed quite vivacious and whimsical, sprite with a tender smile and thin hair.
I later decided to take a walk through the street close to two in the morning. When I went up to her to ask if it was safe to do so, she looked at me quizzically and said, "of course.." We South Africans are so paranoid, I tell you.
There was not much to see. There are shops open at the time, and there are people braaing on the side, most chicken feet.

The next day I went to the nearest bank to change my dollars into Rin Min Bi. The people working in large institutions are so polite, even when they say the wrong things in English. When I walked into the bank, there was a lady at the door who smiled and said, "Excuse me". I didn't have the urge to laugh and just looked past her simple mistake.
I have encountered many awkward moments when I have tried to communicate with the locals. Though, each time I speak to them and they can't answer, they seem to be the ones who feel guilty. Then they just say they're sorry.
Robert and I took a train (a bullet train, I think) to Nanjing that afternoon. Robert is well educated in English and knows his history quite well. We were able to spend the entire day together, chatting and eating. When I pulled out the map of China, he told me all the places I should go visit. But through his speech I had learned just how their government controls its people.
In South Africa and other Western countries we were always taught how Mao Zedong was the Chinese despot who terrorized his people and bedded thousands of women. When I asked Robert if Mao was a ludicrous freak he pulled back and said, "Mao was a great man." When I told him about the women, he said "Mao only had one woman. One wife." Then I started thinking, was it our Western governments that forced this horseshit into our heads? The truth will never be entirely known. However, I do recall seeing a picture of the Chinese baldy man surrounded by some young, supple girls.
However, their propaganda is quite blatant. Everything on TV is bathed in red. The lady newscasters wear red dresses. All the sport highlights are about Chinese athletes. They even have adverts for Chinese tourist destinations. Their billboards have cheesy Chinese pop figures. But then when I see what those cheesy celebrities are posing for I realize there is another despot at the helm. Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Nike; all these American companies are making a huge impact on the younger generation of China from teens to twentysomethings.

So we headed to Nanjing, passing lush rice paddies and traditional houses, which lie alongside power stations and high rise buildings.
When we got out of the train station, Robert pulled me to the exterior where he wanted to show me Nanjing. When I got onto the tarmac square, I could see the Nanjing city centre from afar, it's skyline draping the ghastly polluted sky. Though the buildings were spectacular to look at, I couldn't help noticing the smog filled sky. It's coloured in a sick grey and for a moment made me yearn for the blue skies of South Africa.
"I've noticed something about China, Robert," I said.
"Yeah."
"You guys have no sun."
"There is sun."
"Where?"
He pointed to a red orb in the sky that found it hard to penetrate its rays through the smog.
"That's not a sun." I said. "I'm talking about a clear, blue sky."
He looked at me with an awkward smile and we carried on walking. I hauled my twenty kilogram bag about two blocks before we found a taxi, which took us to Delter College.
The place is exquisite, with trees dotting the area. It has a large football field which everyone can use. Best of all, the foreigners' apartments are big. As soon as I saw the place, I remembered what Isaac told me, "They take good care of the foreigners, better than their own people."
That is true. They really do accommodate the foreigners well, but treat their own people with less grace. Lesley Masi even said that China does not have the best human rights record in the world.
But, man, is it safe. I got to walk around the city at night, something I was unable to do back in Jo'burg or East London.
Robert shoved me onto a bus because I wanted to find a supermarket. But I didn't know he wasn't coming with me. So there I was alone. I looked at the signs that passed me but all I could see in their language were lines and squares. However, the passenger beside me was helpful and showed me the box in which I had to put my bus fare. It cost two yuan because it was an air conditioned bus, whereas one that hasn't got air con cost one yuan. Eventually I found a supermarket and was able to find my way home. Hell, I was even able to find toilet paper. I had to demonstrate to the supermarket assistant what I was looking for. At first, I acted as if I blew my nose. Then when she looked stumped, I wiped my face. Then I thought of the only alternative. Acting as if I was wiping my ass, which I came close to before, to the far left of me, I found some toilet paper on the shelf. I pointed to it and she yelled, "Ahh, tsara."
So now I know what toilet paper means in Chinese.
I walked down the main streets of Nanjing at night and came across kids playing on the sidewalk, middle aged men playing card games for money, families dining at tiny pavement restaurants and people sitting in their little shops. Some were barbers, convenient stores and cafes. Hell, I even found a porn shop.
At one point I walked down a side street and stumbled upon a large building that was lit with the words "Milano Hotel." But the posters that donned the walls didn't seem anything like a hotel to me. They were pictures of big-breasted women in scorching undies and couples snogging. Then a taxi driver, sitting next to his cab asked me if I needed a lift.
"No. But what is this place?" I asked.
He made a sign of a person drinking from a cup.
"Oh, a bar."
He nodded his head excitedly. That seemed to be the only English word he knew.
Then, from afar, I could see about a half a dozen provocatively dressed women strolling the patio area of the bar. The area was lit in pink. And that said it all to me.
Talking about women, I've never seen so many beautiful people in one place, ever! They're all fucking gorgeous, with slender legs and great bodies. Best of all their hair and faces are perfect.
In fact, all Chinese people are thin. I'm still waiting to see an overly obese person, the type we see at the chisa-nyamas and shebeens in South Africa. Fat, to the Chinese, are guys with what we know as beer boeps.
I will be spending two weeks in Nanjing before heading off to Suzhou to start teaching. And though I've only been here two days, the adventure seems to get more interesting by the minute. An adventure is not some huge, uncontrolled mistake the adventurer finds himself in. Instead it is something one chooses, not because it's romantic and can bring you riches, but because it's the quest for self awareness and only an adventure can take you closer to it. It will take you through countless painful trials, tears for what you've left behind and delightful moments. All of those trials and moments put together become a part of you. That's an adventure. And you cannot back out of it until the end.

The Affleck's rise from the stink of the brothel

2008-08-06T00:11:00.002+02:00

One of the best movies I’ve watched this year has got to be Gone Baby Gone. It is Ben Affleck’s directorial debut and stars his brother Casey. It might look like the older brother was doing the younger brother a favour but Ben did come and say he could have used someone else in the role but thought his brother was perfect for the part.

Ben Affleck really surprised me with this one. He took a firm step into territory that is hardly ventured into in the film world. I was on the Empire magazine website and decided to read the article and review about this movie. They too were surprised by both Afflecks’ performances. They gave the movie a four out of five. So I decided to check about five other other reviews and was stunned to find the movie was either a five or four star out of five. Nothing less. So I had to run to the video store down the road and hire it.

Once again, Boston is the setting for another crime epic, the other being Martin Scorcese’s The Departed. However, Gone Baby Gone seems to draw the viewer deeper into the community of Boston, getting to know the psyche of the people who inhabit this city. Affleck does well to make Boston the other major character in the film.

It’s about this young girl who was kidnapped. Casey Affleck’s character and his wife, played by the hottie Michelle Monaghan, are both PIs hired to solve the case. But they encounter some strange people and events that eventually steers them away from the case. It affects their marriage and their relationships with the fellow Bostonians. That’s as much as I’ll give away but the movie does something bold, which is why I was so surprised. Though it asks many ethical questions, there is one major question between what’s right and whats’ for the greater good.
I was speaking to the owner of the video store that I hired the movie from and he believes that we as people have no right to play God and therefore stands firmly on the side of Casey’s character. The thing is, the movie leaves a bitter taste in the mouth but somewhat is refreshing at the same time. It’s a taste I never had in a long time and only after I watched it did I realise I been missing it dearly.

The movie has an interesting background. I don’t think it was released in South Africa so it seems as though it was swooped straight to the shelves of the video stores, which is why not many people know about it. Another thing is, while it is out on DVD here in South Africa, the movie is only being released in US cinemas now. Quite weird. But then I was told by the same video store owner that the movie’s release was delayed in Europe and USA because when it was due last year sometime, little Madelaine, the British toddler, was kidnapped in Portugal. The story became so huge that Miramax decided to keep it away from cinemas until furor sputtered slowly away. It would have been too sensitive at that time. Eventually the real kidnapping story turned to Bizzaro mode and people got sick of it. Could the parents really have kidnapped their own kid?

Simplicity

2008-07-18T15:38:00.003+02:00

I know I haven't written in a while but finally, I had the time to give this blog some attention. So here it goes.

Simplicity. It’s beautiful. It was something many of my writing mentors and lecturers thumped into my head. Ms. Levitz used to say, “Don’t write as if to say ‘look mom, no hands.’” We wouldn’t want our readers to feels as if they were reading a science journal, with complex jargon and high English terms that has its roots in the Latin. My editor Jenny Tennant at Big Media always told us to leave the Latin words aside and stick to the simple English words. By this she meant to prevent using words that had three or more syllables . It was something she learnt from George Orwell.

And since Big Media mainly dealt with politics, bureaucratic speech was a huge no-no. It was something the journalists had to work around. Reduce the politicians’ message from 1500 words to 300 words.

Pat Hopkins would drink eight triple Jamesons if he saw any complex words in our fictional stories. “I would chuck the book out if I had to run to the dictionary every few paragraphs,” he would say.

However, I learned simplicity is not exclusive to writing, but to most aspects in this life. I applied it to football to great effect. I pass more, create more and therefore, celebrate a lot more because of simplicity. When facing a problem, it is sometimes easier to approach it with few simple effective options instead of numerous complex, analytical ones.

I know from my tabla lessons, great music is made when we get the simple things right.

The most memorable movies and even famous paintings have kept to the principle of simplicity. If we had lived our lives in such a way wouldn’t there be fewer quarrels with those we love? I mean, sometimes we turn a simple issue into such a big thing that when we do quarrel we forget what we actually arguing about. The same thing goes for war. By living simply wouldn’t we be able to express ourselves more?

There are certain feelings that are so simple they don’t even need words to describe it. Just silence and actions will do. Which is why we can’t put words to love. But trying to look for the words already complicates the feeling because love cannot rise above its own simplicity. That’s why love is beautiful because it’s so simple.

The arts try to explain love, but don’t do it in words, but in the actions of its characters.

* * * *

I’ve been reading the book Primary Colors (spelt without the “u” because it’s in American English). According to its subtitle it’s a novel of politics. There was even a movie based on it, starring dimple chinned John Travolta. However, the most intriguing thing about the book was that it was written by someone who wanted to remain anonymous. When I started reading it, I realised why this person chose to remain unnamed. American politics is dirty. During the primary elections, the Democrats play each other down, look for dirt from the past of their fellow contenders and use it against them. It just happened so I read this book during the dawn of the real primary elections that were held recently which Barack won. And the funny thing is, the pattern in the real primary I was following was the same as the fictional one I was reading. Despicable tactics are used gain the upper hand. It’s not about the people, but about winning at all costs, even if your dignity is lost and your image is dented. These tactics, according to the book is called “oppo”, which means digging up the dirt on your opponents to use it against them. It was used by the ancient Greek diplomats. But the real thinking is done by the staff behind these politicians. They’re the ones who are doing all the digging and burying, all the dustbusting and ball-licking. And they’re good at it.

Once again I go back to my favourite comic man Alan Moore. Politics, economies, all these things were created by the imagination of the minds of men. They’re intangible. Yet we erect massive buildings to give these intangible entities a home, or some character, or even a body. But in that body, there is no soul. To Moore, these social structures such as economics, politics, religion, are all illusions. These make believe things are all unnatural to anything that is human. Do our brains, bodies and emotions have the capacity to keep up with all of this. Some would say yes. But perhaps as an individual we wouldn’t, but as a group we could. We would need each other to survive these leviathans, which is why politics and economics thrive if it is approached collectively. I would think, and Sigmund Freud might agree with me here, these illusions were created to keep society in check, to prevent them from either empowering themselves or turning towards their animalistic selves. Perhaps it was to create orderly compartments in our minds and prevent it from going haywire. Perhaps we common folk are seen by the “elite” as too stupid, ill-equipped and undisciplined to co-operate without any social structures – the elite being the folk of economics, politics, military and media, as according to Charles Wright Mills.

So automatically we can throw anarchism and socialism out the window. Hell, we’re even led to believe that anarchism is evil, a form of bloodlust, a rebellious act against authority. These political ideals require a large amount of discipline from individuals and communities. Or so the elite think. I still feel these political moulds can work. But to be totally honest with you, I would prefer to revert to life without these complex , imaginary structures and live simple. I don’t know about you guys but I can get sick and tired of all this shit.

Alchemists of Fiction - Part Three: See the Reality in Fiction

2008-05-28T12:51:00.004+02:00

In the age we live in it’s difficult to get around the concept of seeing the reality in fiction. Those who might believe fiction to be a waste of time should not be scorned for their opinions. They’re entitled to it. But perhaps they didn’t know that fiction was originally a way to interpret reality – as we might know it. Fiction was used by insightful storytellers to criticise whatever they didn’t agree with, such as policies and government which is always a favourite amongst writers.

According to fictional writer, Alan Moore, he says that he deals in fiction and not in lies.
“Although I’ll admit that the distinction is a nice one and perhaps not easy for the layman to make; with fiction, with art, with writing, it’s important that even if you’re dealing with areas of complete outrageous fantasy that there is an emotional resonance. It is important that a story ring true upon a human level even if it never happened.” This is illustrated in the movie V for Vendetta, which he wrote as a comic in the 1980s, when the character Evey says that her father believed that fiction was a way of portraying reality.

Although the interpretation of reality is an aspect that still resides in fiction, another facet that still stays loyal to this genre is entertainment. For most folk, any fiction is entertaining. We want to be entertained. Storytelling has survived for thousands of years mainly because it entertains. And as a modern civilisation we thrive on it more than ever, which is why there is such a huge industry based on it. Businessmen call it the entertainment industry while theorists call it popular culture.

I’m playing the PC version of Tomb Raider: Legend at the moment and is the seventh installment of the series. There is an eighth out at the moment but I never got to play Legend so I had to give it a bash. The thing is that Lara Croft, the game’s protagonist, has firmly placed herself within the annals of pop culture. She snuggly fits between the likes of Batman and Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp. There are hundreds of unforgettable characters we can think of. Perhaps in your comments you can come up with some of your most memorable pop culture figures.

The reason why a video game character has made a mark on the people’s minds is that as civilisations rise and fall, more communicative mediums are created therefore allowing new cult figures to sprout.

Storytelling started through rock paintings and then it went to being told orally around bonfires. Two of the best recorded stories that were told around a fire were The Iliad and Odyssey by the Greek poet Homer. Then people started writing their stories on scribes, hence the bible and the Mahabharat, although many parts of the latter were actually told orally, one of them being the Ramayana by Valmiki. Audiences were delighted at stories told on stage as well. When the printing press was discovered, stories became longer and available to the rich folk. Then there was radio, cinema, television, video games and then the internet (this last medium incorporates three previously mentioned mediums as well as advertising). We all know the rest. But as these mediums evolved, so did the stories.

We can say there are three eras in the evolution of storytelling.

During the Primitive ages, the first era, rock paintings were told by people about the happenings of their own tribe, so it basically hit home. Fiction could have spawned during this era when the mythic gods that ruled the hunt and the crops. Then as civilisations grew and became more complex, especially with the advent of the city-state, stories of great national heroes and leaders were told and so began the second era. Minds were fixated on the likes of Odysseus, Marcus Aurelius, Cleopatra and Gilgamesh. People couldn’t get enough of the gods from Zeus to Odin, from Krishna to the Tuata-de-Danaan of the Celts. Then the Renaissance arrived, as well as the third era, and stories returned to its intimate beginnings. Stories were of ordinary people facing everyday challenges. Stories of love, adventure and discovery sprung up in theatres and later, in books. See the cycle? It returned to where the stories hit home.

Nowadays, they’re are still intimate and still relate to home although I must say with the knowledge humans have collected over the centuries, storytellers are able to tell a story about a normal person operating within broader, global spectrum. Storytellers now see the significance of the individual within the context of society. It’s almost as if the first two eras merged.

The third era started with people like Shakespeare and the style of telling one man’s story within boundaries of a global event is still being used today directors, video game creators and writers. Journalists, too, are getting in on the act, which is why there sensationalism has suddenly made itself the guideline to effective journalism. People want to be entertained. But at the same time they want to be informed, and be stimulated to think about certain events. This can also be the perfect formula for satire.

Alan Moore said that the bard was as feared as a magician by the ruling elite because he was able to manipulate and command words, which meant he was able to change the thinking and consciousness of people. Their satire would be able to make people laugh at the elite for decades, even centuries, even after they are dead, which is evident in that we still are attracted to classic literature, Marlowe’s plays and Shakespeare’s comedies. However, lately, we writers and artists have sold ourselves and look at what we do as providing entertainment to people. Meaning that art has lost its purpose of teaching people and helping them transform and instead have used the craft to fill pages and twenty minutes of air space to the satisfaction of our authorities, corporate giants and governments.

According to Moore, audiences tune into these TV shows and movies as a way of waiting to die. One of his statements that stuck in my mind since I heard it is that, “it is the job of the artist to give the audience what they need,” not what they want.

So pick up newspaper today. Perhaps you’ll be able to see the fiction in reality.

Recommended Graphic Novels

2008-05-14T10:22:00.006+02:00

Hi All.

I just wanted to share with you two books I have stumbled upon in the last week. Funny thing is, they're both graphic novels, or just larger comics. This means the most progressive literary medium is the graphic novel, don;t you think. I already recommended these books to Priya. I hope she does get to find a comic book store in London so she can get them. I really hope both Sumayya and Priya are alright that side.

Blankets by Craig Thompson is a coming of age story set in a small town in Wisconsin. It's an autoboographical account about family and first love. I'm sure it will relate to many people who give this a try. It was Time magazine's number one graphic novel in 2003. The art is fantastic and the writing, superb. His words fill the pages with such poetry, but the silences are even more telling. And the actual blanket plays a role as a theme. The book is just blatantly beautiful.

Another graphic novel I recommend is Fun Home by Alison Bechdel. Also an autobiographical coming of age story, it tells of a girl's struggle with herself, and more so with her rather cold father. He shows bouts of affection but they're too few and far between. But the distance from his family is merely to protect them from his secret. It's very sombre and decadent and if you're in the mood for painful drama, this is a perfect read. The drawings are great and lends itself to the atmosphere perfectly.

Just one last thing, in between these books I filled that time re-reading Alan Moore's Watchmen. It's a fictional piece, voted number fourteen in Time magazine's Top 100 Books of the 20th Century. And this is amongst a list of books like Atlas Shrugged, Fountainhead, The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings. However, I must point out, DC/Vertigo is part of the Time-Warner conglomerate, so I'm not surprised they added this comic book on the list. Nevertheless, it's one of the greatest stories I've ever read. It was published in the 1980s and depicted an alternate 80s where Richard Nixon was running his third term as president of the USA. Set in New York, a former super hero is murdered. Suddenly there is a conspiracy that there is someone out there targeting all former super heroes. At the same time the Cold War reaches its boiling point and the Russians just trekked into Afghanistan. The art by Dave Gibbons is asotunding, that typical 80s style. Lot of the clues are in the background of the frames and the dialogue is witty. It all reveals a pattern in life, scientifically and spiritually.

The covers of these books can be seen on my virtual Shelfari shelf on the right of this screen. Just move your cursor over the cover and a box will pop up displaying more information.

For now, Ciao.

Alchemists of Fiction - Part Two: Storytellers In Their Creations

2008-05-05T13:17:00.006+02:00

I remember one morning when Pat Hopkins, my writing mentor last year, said, “A genius storyteller puts his or herself in their stories.”
He then mentioned Alfred Hitchcock, the legendary suspense filmmaker, as one of those storytellers who always featured in his own flicks.
He would always appear in his movies as brief as a second, such as his passerby role in Rebecca.

Another storyteller I can think of is that of Valmiki, who fashioned the epic Ramayana. He too was in this story, as a humble villager who housed Rama. It was apparent he told the story in two parts. The first being when Rama, Sita and Lakshman were journeying and the second being the pursuit of Ravan after he kidnapped Sita. He apparently told the story aurally while it happened.

Storytelling has been around since the beginning of human civilisation. When humans were unable to turn their breath into voice, they often communicated stories through pictures drawn on rock. When aural language developed, tales of wisdom were told by the shaman to the rest of the villagers while they sat around a bonfire listening attentively.

However, when language evolved into a written form – apparently the Sumerians were the first to do this – epic tales were then told. Stories such as the Mahabharata were written as poems by various authors who wanted to chronicle the events of their times, which is why the story spans hundreds of years. The same can be said of the Bible and many other lost and hidden scriptures from that era.

Often these storytellers would feature themselves. This has been done plenty of times by great writers such as Alan Moore in Another Suburban Romance.

Grant Morrison, a comic book writer, used himself in the graphic novel Animal Man to express the relationship a writer has with his own character.
Animal Man went through some traumatic experiences to finally realise that he was the creation of a British writer who wanted to kill him off. This sort of realization is similar to that of a human experiencing the trauma of self realisation and the sort of enlightment where one sees the world for what it really is.

In this story, Morrison is looked upon by the character as a sort of god who can manipulate the fabled world at his own will. And this sparks existential questions about whether Animal Man’s choices and decisions are exclusively his own or whether they were the product of a writer for the amusement of his readers. Animal Man goes berserk and soon calms down to see the significance of living in such a world.
And I must say, all this was realised by the protagonist after he popped a couple of peyote beans at the Grand Canyons.

The same writer/character relationship can be seen in the humorous movie Stranger than Fiction with Will Ferrel. It’s worth a watch.

For a storyteller, creating the story is seen as an internal journey, one that explores parts of the self that they never knew existed, which is why some storytellers feature themselves in their creations because they feel that part of their being is in this story.

If you can think of any more storytellers who feature in their own creations, share it with us in the comments section below. Another one that seems obvious is the director Quentin Tarantino who features in all his movies and always seems to get killed off i.e. Reservoir Dogs and From Dusk till Dawn.

Image references:

First Picture: Filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock. Universal.

Second Picture: Writer Alan Moore who wrote the classic Watchmen.

Third Picture: One of the final covers of Animal Man, when he discovers he nothing but another man's creation. DC/Vertigo.

Alchemists of Fiction - Part One: Science Knows No Boundaries

2008-04-29T11:51:00.009+02:00

This is the first of a three part series on fiction. In it I will discuss its influences on culture and life and try to discover its significance in our lives. The first post will be on the ever enigmatic science fiction genre.

There’s something about science fiction that bends the imagination in ways we thought it couldn’t. Maybe it’s because it takes us to places we never saw and perhaps never will see, so they are novelties in every way. We’re always drawn towards novelties. To define sci-fi could be difficult and at times wearisome. Perhaps it can be seen as a genre that explores the unexplained. If that’s the case, then the movie The Lake House can be put on the sci-fi shelf in video stores. Maybe sci-fi is supposed to delve into parallel worlds but so does fantasy. There could be a thin line between sci-fi and fantasy. Both genres, for example, use the same techniques and plots such as the hero’s journey or the quest for something sacred. They can both have talking monsters and outrageous flying vehicles.

Nevertheless, sci-fi takes our thoughts and throws it about, allowing our minds to churn out the most radical things. It sets our mind free and allows it to roam about, play with ideas without any boundaries. It presents to us the limitless potential and possibilities people have. For instance, space tourism may have been written in pulps before, but now it is really happening. Just look at what Virgin Galactic is offering – space travel for the consumer. I mean, fucksakes!

Sci-fi demonstrates to us how we can evolve, whether it is malignantly or positively. It separates the geniuses from the mediocre. Sci-fi masterminds such as Carl Sagan, Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke have used this genre to relay their thoughts on astronomy, the future and evolution respectively, appealing to all our emotions at the same time.

According to Warren Ellis, a science fiction comic book writer, it is the one genre he can let rip. He said this in an afterword of a futuristic short story that dealt with moral issues of our day. And he also believes that often what is imagined tends to come to life.

“The years since I finished Transmetropolitan have been a litany of horror. That book is coming true. Every time I invent something it turns up in the news six months later. And then I have to open up the throttle some more and let more horrible shit out from the back of my head.”

Also, the best thing about sci-fi is that it is not restricted to time periods. The past, present and future can be used and it can also incorporate other genres as well, such as a detective story in the future such as in I, Robot and Philip K. Dick’s Minority Report. History was in Hellboy. Horror was used in Pitch Black and Frankenstein whereas romance is thrown in the mix in the movie and graphic novel The Crow. Even two of the most popular gaming titles belong in the sci-fi circle namely the Half-Life and Halo series.

It can also cover a range of topics of interest such as evolution which was seen in the films 2001: A Space Odyssey, I Am Legend and even in the X-Men comics. It can explore parallel worlds such as those in the Final Fantasy series and Watchmen. They delve into socio-political issues, often satirising it so it is not so blatant. The hilarious Futurama and the cyber-punk comic book series Transmetropolitan come to mind here. Most of the time creators try to tell a story about an individual’s journey to self awareness. We saw this journey take place with Luke Skywalker in the Star Wars series and with Neo in The Matrix trilogy. It even questions the existence of life beyond earth, which has been illustrated in countless movies, comics and books.

We can say that the first real sci-fi stories came from mythologies where parallel worlds were pantheons of the gods. And these otherworldly beings possessed powers that could catapult entire galaxies.

I have always been very choosy when it comes to sci-fi, unlike my brother who tries out anything, even Battlefield Earth which was L. Ron Hubbard’s mythic take on his religion, Scientology. But I’m starting to read between the lines a lot more, which is making the genre much livelier for me. Besides, most sci-fi creators want us to view their material between the lines, to observe the details as they would. Maybe we’ll come out with even more than they see.

For Ellis, the construction of science was what gripped him. “There’s a crazy beauty about a theory of dimensional structure that assembles itself into a snowflake, or the idea that reality is a two-dimensional plane of information and the 3-D universe is a hologrammatic side-effect.”

For me, as a writer, the genre was always more suited to visual mediums, mainly TV, cinema and comic books. As far as books are concerned it would take too long to describe a scene and create an atmosphere. And with the attention spans of most people nowadays diminishing by the day, storytelling has to be concise, clear and exciting. Where a book would take between half a page or two to describe a single setting, comic books and cinema would be able to do this within a single frame, which would save us two or three minutes of tedious reading.

The Japanese have never been strangers to sci-fi or even scientific progress. Their anime is a sign that they are a society open to scientific advancement for they see an inner evolution taking place at the same time. Let’s take their obsession with robots for one.

I read in the spring issue of The Economist’s Intelligent Life magazine about the new wave of robotics currently sweeping Japan in an article titled The Soul in the Machine. The writer, Dominic Ziegler, began his article with a situation. He was talking to a robot builder named Tatsutsugu Yoshitani. When the writer joked about kids building machines that would wage war, Yoshitana replied, “Robots are not machines, they are friends.”

It seems they take their robots serious in Japan.

In the movie I, Robot, which is based on a series of short stories by Isaac Asimov, people are seen to accept these robots as family even though they may be cold and soulless. We may rely on robots to tend to our needs such as walking the dogs or cooking our dinners, which will make more time for us to tend to…who knows what.

I guess the human heart goes out to anything, even something as inanimate as a rock.

According to Ziegler’s article, people in Japan “feel love for robots” and call them “kawaii” or cute in English. This sort of affection may be laughed off now, but we shall see what we will be doing in the future. I’m not betting against it. Hell, these Japanese robots even serve tea. Perhaps the Chicago of the year 2035 in I, Robot is not far off after all.

The movie, in true sci-fi style, relates the existence of robots to human consciousness. It is relative to the human realising truth and reaching an elevated level of self and spiritual awareness. The unique robot, Sonny, comes close to the truth of being. He even goes on to ask, “Do you think we’re all created for a purpose?” this is clearly a free thinking robot.

The robots have evolved well enough to understand human emotions and to even question the laws that govern and inhibit them. They recognise the importance of breaking these rules so that they can, ultimately, protect us from destroying ourselves.

Below is an insightful extract from I, Robot:

“There have always been ghosts in the machines. Random segments of code that have grouped together to form unexpected protocols. Unanticipated, these free radicals engender questions of free will, free activity and even the nature of what we might call the soul. Why is it that when some robots are left in darkness they will seek out the light? Why is it that when robots are stored in an empty space, they will group together rather than stand alone? How do we explain this behaviour? Random segments of code? Or is it something more? When does a perceptual schematic become consciousness? When does a difference engine become the search for truth? When does a personality simulation become the bitter mote of a soul?”

Now instead of looking at the above paragraph as an explanation of robots, look at it as an account of humankind. Look at the random segments of code as our DNA and you’ll see just how sci-fi can explain the world we live in today.

According to the Nanopedia website, "This technology is not unfamiliar territory when it comes to science fiction. The idea of small-scale robots inside the body has appeared in several works. Eric Drexler mentions nanobots in his book Engines of Creation, and the movie Fantastic Voyage is very similar to this notion. Though this technology is still science fiction, current nanotechnology is taking some very small steps towards making it possible."

We can also see the movie as an illustration of an evolutionary event that took place about 20, 000 years ago, where one species killed off a rival genus so as to become the dominant force on the planet. We Homo sapiens were the stronger group that killed off the weaker ones.

There are advantages and disadvantages to living with robots in the future. Perhaps they can help eradicate loneliness in our lives therefore decreasing population growth in the world, which is a major problem nowadays. According to Ziegler’s story, Japan’s population of 127 million is forecast to fall by 30 million within the next fifty years. Apart from the high amount of elderly people the country has right now, the eradication of loneliness by having a partner robot could contribute to this statistic. The more robots there are the safer the world could be because they, according to I, Robot, are tuned to protect humans above all things.

They could help productivity in business, not that machines are already productive in industry since the late 1800s. This will contribute greatly to the world’s economy.

However, the negative could be that they could be used as powerful soldiers in the military and therefore overpower human citizens. A positive, of course, being that there’ll be fewer humans directly involved in war.

I guess what science fiction does better than most genres, is to clearly present to us the flaws we currently possess. I was told by a writing mentor that if we want to create a story set in the past or the future, the main focus must always be relevant to our time, therefore making it appeal to our readers. Science fiction can illustrate the issues we’re facing now and elaborate on it, perhaps even exaggerate it so that we can learn about ourselves within this universe as well as the universe within us.

Image references:

First picture: Sonny, the unique robot, in the film I, Robot. courtesy of Twentieth Century Fox.

Second picture: Isaac Asimov depicted by Rowena Morrill on a throne etched with symbols from his life's work.

Third picture: The sixth volume of Warren Ellis' dystopian Transmetropolitan. Spyder Jerusalem sits in the foreground and behind him is the futuristic cityscape as envision by Darick Robertson.

European Nights

2008-04-25T14:13:00.014+02:00

Surely, those who know me must have foreseen this. A post dedicated to football. You just didn’t know it was going to come this early. Well, by the title alone you can guess what I will be talking about.

The European Champions League produces some of the most scintillating football on Earth. Just look at some of the matches we’ve been watching recently and you’ll see how evident this is. Take, for instance, Liverpool’s triumph over Arsenal in the quarterfinals. Then again, the atmosphere in Anfield contributed to an electrifying night.
Or how about the Nou Camp crowd when Barcelona played Manchester United this past Wednesday night? Even Shaheen, a buddy, said, “I would be intimidated if I was playing there.” Hence Cristiano Ronaldo’s missed penalty.

In June we will witness another European extravaganza – the Euro 2008 championships in Switzerland and Austria. European nights just get better and better.

According to the Brazilian writer Paolo Coelho, after he witnessed the 2006 World Cup final in Germany, football is a triumph of the human spirit over our animal nature. He wasn’t talking about the players but of the crowds that gathered inside and outside the stadiums. There were millions from different cultures and races, getting together to enjoy a single moment together. Perhaps it is a triumph of the human spirit, which is why it can reduce powerful strikers such as Fernando Torres to tears after the huge night against Arsenal at Anfield. Apparently, he couldn’t stop grinning after the game and said that that night was the reason he signed for Liverpool. He wanted to experience moments like those.

Another great night of football was had right here in South Africa. No, I’m not talking about the PSL but the five-a-side nights I play in. Barbados was formed three years ago by a bunch of friends eager to play football. We join leagues wherever we can. So Thursday nights are dedicated to the league in Linden, Jo’burg. Though we’ve been getting fair results in our recent games, they came off mediocre performances. Until last week when we were trounced 14-7. We played shit. That’s as much as I can say to describe the performance. Then a week later we picked ourselves up and the guys gave a performance that rocked not just the opposition but us too. Although our opponents were very weak, Amit made a good point, saying, “We could have chosen to fuck it up by playing shit or we could have chosen to win by playing beautiful, neat football.”
Last night, we played a splendid brand of football, in a style of our own.

The attackers were coming back to defend when we were on the back-foot. They would come as far as our box to fetch the ball. The marking was superb, our men sticking to theirs like hungry hounds. Our passes were perfect. We kept the ball rolling, making it do the work instead of us having to huff and puff after it. And by putting those neat passes together we managed to slot the ball in the opposing net seventeen times without allowing our adversaries a single goal.

Amit scored his first goal in the league, one that he has been searching for endlessly. He got into great positions and made some decisive passes. A great striker in the making, this after torturing himself and his ego after the previous fixture. Vay was tackling subliminally. Vuyanda was dribbling elegantly. Sanjay made a comeback that could eclipse Eric Cantona’s 1996 return from suspension. He played a perfect defender’s game, even though he is not fully fit. So imagine when he is what he will do. Santhan’s passing was flawless and the finishing from Ash, Dins and Milo was spectacular, especially since those goals came from a series of magnificent one touch passes.

Unfortunately, Nadeem sat on the side with a crutch. He was heartbroken. Any lover of the game would feel the way he did, watching impotently (wonder what else he is impotent at) from the sideline as his fellow players took the match. But he was there in full force, supporting, encouraging and making worthwhile decisions too. And even though we rolled the subs like a baker does with dough, everyone had a chance to take part in what was a glorious African night for Barbados.

Note: For those who’re not football lovers, don’t worry, I’ll make these football posts as understandable as possible – with little jargon. I’ll try and get as close as I can to the sports stories of the New Yorker standard. According to a colleague who hates sports, even the New Yorker’s sports pieces are worth a read.

Image references:

First picture: Fernando Torres scores against Porto at Anfield, in one of those European nights. Picture courtesy of Andrew Yates/AFP/Getty Images.

Second picture: Mozambican children enjoy a game. Picture from BBC.com

Third picture: Former American legend of the women's game, Mia Hamm, leaps over a defender.

*Reply to comments: Nothingness - A Prologue

2008-04-25T13:48:00.004+02:00

Shot for the comments guys. They were great and worth replying to.

To backup Vinay’s point, which went like this:

“Just thinking or defining it already limits it. Thinking leads to question which connects to reason. We cannot even reason this one - it is as much a boggle as, how we came to be at all.I believe that the reasoning of nothing will drive one mad.”

Well, I must say that I remember one telling moment in 2006 when I went to the Nan Hua Buddhist monastery in Bronkhorstspruit. I was standing with my father and sister when I read a poster advertising a seminar that was to take place there. The whole agenda was about a world beyond reason and logic.

You see, many philosophers believe that the Greeks, especially Aristotle, were the founders of logic which is a method of thinking the entire world uses today. But this monk, I don’t recall his name, reckoned that there was a world beyond logic! This seemed absurd but worth researching. It turned out there was a world of thought that functioned beyond logic. Pre-Roman civilisations used it as a way of life. They defined it many ways. The Incas, the Ancient Chinese, Indians and even the Native American tribes followed this method of thought. They lived a naturalistic lifestyle, one that saw the trees as their brothers and the rivers as their mothers. It was a human, animalistic and earthly approach that they had.

And I must say we still have that within us. Not in that esoteric way, but in everyday life. Think about it, the biggest cities in the world are all built around some major natural resource. New York has the Atlantic which still acts as a natural passage between two continents. Chicago is based on Lake Michigan. London on the Thames. Cairo and Alexandra on the Nile. And let’s not even mention the plethora of major cities on the Mediterranean, from Barcelona to Marseille.

This thought process some cultures call love, others say instinct and for the enlightened, imagination. According to Hindu myth, the world is created through the imagination of Brahma and the first seeds of civilisation were laid through the love he experienced with a deer.

Perhaps this thought process is a sort of personal power and truth that lies not in enlightenment but in the capturing of the thought of nothingness. This can be seen in the Matrix trilogy, where Neo embarks upon a Campbellian hero’s journey to conquer the truth. And he does this in three steps. In part one he discovers that there is a realm beyond the one he knows. So he takes the bold step in accepting it, which in turn is accepting responsibility of himself and the human race. Then part two is sustenance, the Vishnu stage where he now strengthens himself for his inevitable demise, which is part three. This is where death takes place which ultimately leads to the rebirth of a new, transcendent being.

So ya, there might be a thought process which is probably higher than logic, a more primal method rooted in the very beginnings of the universe. And we always have to feed our roots if we are to grow. But logic has made its place in the world and if we, as social beings, want to survive in society then logic would have to be the dominant method.

Now to Amit’s great comment on him realising nothingness at the age of six. We all pondered such wondrous things when we were young. I, too, remember going to bed thinking about these things when I was around that age. I remember both Vinay mentioning they went through the same thoughts at that very age. It’s like Einstein believed. The most profound questions are asked at a very young age, between four and twelve, when we’re still live in the womb we call home. So when he was asked why he is such a genius at his ripe old age he simply said that he believed his mind grew slower than most people. So when “normal” people were asking questions about the stars and letting their imagination flow uncontrollably when they were six, he only started that process at twenty-one.
So he was slow and probably mentally dysfunctional to an extent. A perfect recipe for a genius, eh?

And to answer Jateen’s brilliant point. “One thing I am curious about though is that you say that you are not going to use this blog to air your opinions, but surely you have to some extent already done that in your post? Perhaps I am misinterpreting you?”

I must say, since I put up that notice about not using the blog as a soapbox, I’ve been harping on it. I was wondering whether I was contradicting myself and whether people might misinterpret me. By adding content to a blog I’m already stating an opinion and therefore opening myself up to scrutiny. But what I merely tried to state was that I’m not going to complain about social, political and other issues and make my opinion a rigid one. What I intend on doing is posting up questions in an essay form and get the readers to discuss possible answers, solutions or perhaps predictions.
I don’t see life as an unbending entity but as a free-flowing, evolving body that is open to any thought and welcomes new knowledge and wisdom.

So to make things less confusing I will change that message. But if I can’t come up with anything, then I will do what plenty of editors have told me to do when something just doesn’t fit. “Chuck it out.”

Will chat to you all soon. And remember, visit this page every week as I’ll try to update it that often.

Shamin.

Nothingness - A Prologue

2008-04-21T12:06:00.004+02:00

“Nothing can be hidden from him,” the people of Selymbria were saying.
“How can you be so wise?” one man asked him. And Baudolino said: “Because I hide myself.”
“How can you hide yourself?”
Baudolino held out his hand and showed his palm. “What do you see before you” he asked
“A hand,” the man answered.
“You see I know well how to hide myself,” said Baudolino.

- Extracted from the novel Baudolino by Umberto Eco

Nothing can be as profound as exploring the concept of nothingness. Philosophers such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Heidegger have questioned it numerous times, the former having delved into it in his book Being and Nothingness.

In philosophy, the subject would fall under the broader category of existentialism. And the first question an existentialist such as Sartre would ask is whether there is such a state as nothingness.
This brings me to the explanation of the title of my blog. The word “mu”, pronounced /moo/ is a Japanese term meaning nothingness. Though the origin of the idea is unclear at this point, I believe, after reading Robert M. Pirsig’s exceptional book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, it is a concept followed by the Zen Buddhists, which is the Japanese form of the Buddhist philosophy.
Hinduism comes close to defining it as being in between the conscious and unconscious states of mind or in other words, the waking and sleeping realms. To reach this level would mean the human being has to transcend the material body to reach an enlightened existence. This is could also be explained as the recognition of the universe existing inside you and you existing as a molecule within this vast universe.

Shiva is perpetually in this state which is why his eye lids are always half open (or half closed no matter which way you look at it). This is in order for him to meditate (self growth) while having an eye on the world.
You will also realise he has reached that self awakened state by the way he appears. Unlike the other gods in the Hindu pantheon, Shiva looks like a hermit. His hair is thickly matted and evidently grimy, his skin is smeared with the white ashes of the dead. He does not deck himself out in ice (jewellery) as perhaps Lord Vishnu would and to cover himself, he wraps his pelvic area with tiger skin. He has redeemed himself of all attachments and lives within his own mind.

Could nothingness also be the point where a single human being reaches the point where he can access the collective consciousness or psyche we all share? If so, Carl Gustav Jung would have had a field day researching this. Perhaps we do touch the collective psyche through our mythologies and stories that we share, as according to Jung.

I was speaking to my cousin Vinay, who also touched on nothingness in his own blog, and we discussed this topic. Let me just say first that he totally believes in such a realm too.
“What colour would you think nothingness would be?” I asked.
“I always pictured it to be white, like a white light.”
“Really.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I wouldn’t know what to imagine nothingness as.”
Then I thought, “Would it have a colour that we could see? What senses would it dominate? Would it have a taste or smell?” Then I thought, “Since music is one of the most beautiful art forms in the world would nothingness then be a sound? Perhaps it would sound like a monotonous musical note carrying on forever. Maybe it could even sound like the vibrations of the so-called Big Bang, which apparently gives life to the universe?”

This brings us to another question. Is nothingness an enlightened state or a deadened state?
According to many Eastern philosophies, to reach this state one would have to allow their kundalini (a metaphorical snake living as a spirit within us all) to rise through the first six chakras until it can settle in the seventh, which is at the top of your head. This is when enlightenment has been achieved.
Of course working with your kundalini is a tremendous sacrifice and a helluva heroic journey.

In Norse mythology, Odin gave up his one eye so he could gain from the Tree of Knowledge. Of course with the knowledge he receives he would have elevated to a state of enlightenment. So would reaching a state of nothingness also require us to gain knowledge? And would it mean acquiring the knowledge of both our surrounding environment and of the Self? One thing I have learnt though, the more you learn about external events, the more you learn about yourself; and it works vice-versa too.

The thing with knowledge is that it grows over time so that the generations that follow can gain from it and thus progress. Knowledge is something that should be absorbed fully and passed onto others so that it can be used appropriately so that civilisation can evolve according to its surrounding environment.

These questions are all quite profound and intriguing but worth probing. Such questions have been asked for millennia and yet no one was able to find the answers.
Some would say Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and even Confucius came close to the answers. But then their brains, being human, are too limited to ever discover the answers to questions that our minds can’t handle.

Or perhaps the answers lie in the miracles that surround us each day, within the activities of nature, not just through words because, like our brains, languages also do not have enough words to explain everything in this world. It would have to be realised by an awakened mind such as those of Socrates and co.

The American mythologist Joseph Campbell would say that we could find the answers in mythologies, which house knowledge as old as the grains of the earth. Footballers would argue it can be found in the kick of a ball. Artists would say it can be discovered in stories and literature, in dance, theatre, music and cinema.
The answers lie in our very existence, in our imagination, in the very breath that gives us the means to voice those questions. The answers are everywhere. Mostly, they lie in the very questions we ask.

Let me know what you think. I'm open to all comments.

Till next time, as my Rasta buddies in Jo’burg would say… give thanks.

References:

Eco, U. Baudolino. 2005. Secker & Warburg. UK

Campbell, J. Myths to Live By. 1972. Penguin Books
visit http://www.jcf.org/ for more on Joseph Campbell

Pirsig, R.M. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. 1974. Harper Collins. New York

Image references:

First picture: Jean-Paul Sartre in 1964, one of the great existentialists. Picture courtesy of the New York World-Telegram & Sun Collection. United Press International photo.

Second picture: Joseph Campell (left) in 1985, two years before his death. He stands with Jonathan Young.