Mark 11:28-33
“By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you authority to do this?” Jesus replied, “I will ask you one question. Answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things. John’s baptism—was it from heaven, or from men? Tell me!” They discussed it among themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t you believe him?’ But if we say, ‘From men’…” (They feared the people, for everyone held that John really was a prophet.) So they answered Jesus, “We don’t know.” Jesus said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”

For a man who was going to be betrayed, the kind of things Jesus did at the end seemed insane. Entering on a donkey and getting praise from the lips of common folk certainly did not sit well with those in authority there. Adding insult to injury was when Jesus entered the temple courts and threw all the sellers out and overturned the tables of the money changers. These were people who managed to work their way into the temple courts through befriending the Pharisees and they charged exorbitant rates for sacrifices and money changing because they had exclusive dominion in that place and worshippers had no choice but to buy from them. Worse than all of this was that Jesus sat and taught the people who came into the temple courts about what God wanted for their lives and this shook the very foundation of the faith at that time.

It is clear from the passage above that Jesus was not going to be ‘Shooed’ away and if these temple priests wanted him out, they would have to come up with something more than accusations. The only option they had then was to make falsified charges and take his life which was certainly what Jesus came for. He came to die for sinners and to give us hope of eternity with him through his resurrection. Are you willing to put your trust in Jesus who fought the world to clarify the truth to save us? Are you willing to stand up against the powers of this world and evil to proclaim his name above every other name? Lets not be caught sleeping when he come again. Lets rise us and share the gospel with the lost sheep and help them find their shepherd, Jesus Christ.

In His Loving Service,
Vineet

Fields of Harvest

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donkey’s song for you and me text©2009, Raj Arumugam; pictures:wikipedia

hee-haw, hee-haw

haw haw haw he

hee-haw, hee-haw

he, he, he, haw;

haw, haw, haw, haw

he he he he haw

hee-haw, hee-haw,

he, e, e, ‘ee-‘aw

oh, once  in ancient times

I roamed free

like all wild creatures

but you ensnared me;

and you made a donkey of me

and made of me a beast of burden

and the butt of your jokes

and you thought that’s so clever of you

but I’ve got news for you,

you witless humans:

if you haven’t noticed already

you’re just too clever for your own good -

and that’s not very clever, is it?

hee-haw, hee-haw

haw haw haw he

hee-haw, hee-haw

he, he, he, haw;

haw, haw, haw, haw

he he he he haw

hee-haw, hee-haw,

he, e, e, ‘ee-‘aw

you see what’ you’ve done

to our world;

me,  simple donkey,

all I need are some  grass and weeds

but you, you’ve  eaten every corner of the earth

and all you’ll leave your progeny

is a barren, poisoned earth!

and I see the air’s stinking

and the water’s killing the fish

and you made creatures disappear

and now you fight each other for food:

hey, you human donkeys –

there’s  irony in that,

you might have deduced that

if you had listened to your poetry teachers!

hee-haw, hee-haw

haw haw haw he

hee-haw, hee-haw

he, he, he, haw;

haw, haw, haw, haw

he he he he haw

hee-haw, hee-haw,

he, e, e, ‘ee-‘aw

and so

may an asteroid  or comet

hit the planet hard

and may you all choke in billows of stellar clouds;

and may you all perish in that

and that not for your own good

but for the good of the planet

that will bounce back long after

you all choke and drop dead like

birds in the air you pollute…

hee-haw, hee-haw

haw haw haw he

hee-haw, hee-haw

he, he, he, haw;

haw, haw, haw, haw

he he he he haw

hee-haw, hee-haw,

he, e, e, ‘ee-‘aw

and I see also

you still fight and kill one another

over your silly world religions

and your juvenile beliefs and blind faiths

and so may you continue

and holily fight one another

until you are all wholly dead

and so may each kill the other

and may you all

in one explosion

move on to the next world

and discover

that your only reality is hell

and the only True God is Donkey

and may Donkey God

show you all your donkey ears

and kick you all in your butts

and with infinite teeth

bite you into insanity

for the whole of eternity

forever and ever

hee-haw, hee-haw

haw haw haw he

hee-haw, hee-haw

he, he, he, haw;

haw, haw, haw, haw

he he he he haw

hee-haw, hee-haw,

he, e, e, ‘ee-‘aw

The horses have an enclosed shelter in their field where they can get out of the rain and bad weather. However, they seem to get restless on long, rainy days, and end up standing outside, sometimes getting very wet indeed. I noticed that Canadian Tire carries an open do-it-yourself sort of pavilion that I thought might be a solution. The horses would be able to stand outside, as it were, but still be under the protection of a roof without feeling enclosed. It seemed worth a try, so RailGuy was enlisted to set it up.

His activity soon attracted a curious onlooker.

Louis considered the operation from every angle…

and then offered his advice.

The two girls, Mousie and Czarina watched from a distance…

preferring to wait until the final structure was in place to pass judgment.

Then they casually moseyed on over to check it out.

Their verdict? They approve. They seem to agree it is a good spot to enjoy an meal outdoors, and can eat their hay while staying dry on rainy days.

This story, I heard for the first time, when doing my post graduation at the medical college. Recently, it came to mind again when, I saw an officer in my unit misbehaving with a civilian and virtually throwing him out of his office by verbal rebuke. Here it goes:-

There was a potter in the village. He had a Donkey. The potter used to bring raw materials for his use on the back of this donkey. The potter, while bringing clay, wood etc from jungle, used to bring these in heavy loads so as to reduce the number of trips. But while going to sell his product he used to take pots and other earthen wares in small numbers, so that they remain safe, but increasing the number of trips to the market in effect. In both the conditions, the donkey used to suffer – either it had to carry the huge load or used to get beaten up, if not careful in carrying finished goods to the market. The donkey was very annoyed by the treatment it used to get at the hands of the master.

Then, there came the Deewali time. The potter decided to make statuettes of Gods like Ganesh and Laxmi. After making beautiful statuettes, he wanted to sell these at the market. The statuettes had really come out very beautifully. Every body, who saw the statuettes on the way, bowed to the Gods. Some even exclaimed about how beautiful it was. The Donkey, at the change of its fortunes but oblivious of its load and ignorant of the reason, thought people were praising his beauty and bowing to him! In the market statuettes sold at a premium and the potter made a good profit.

The Donkey was happy at the change he saw in the attitudes of people while going to the market and was flabbergasted. “May be, I am looking exceptionally appealing today”, came to its mind. Returning from market, while he came across a man, he stopped on the way, looked up, and expected the man to bow to him. That did not happen. The donkey swore at the ‘Idiot’ and then moved ahead. Slightly ahead on the way, another man came across. But, what is this? This man also did not bow to the donkey; neither did he say anything in its praise. The donkey was now furious seeing the neglect. It started to make sounds of protest, “… Hey Aeee, … Hey Aeee, … Hey Aeee!” This unexpected loud burst of cry made the potter very angry, he took out his stick and gave the donkey a good thrashing to remember for whole of its life.

This story is significant in the context of all those who have to deal directly with the public, specially the Civil Servants, who actually are ‘Servants’ and their job is to serve the public rather having the wrong notion of ruling over them by virtue of their posts. They must remember that if people bow to them, it may not necessarily be because of their innate capabilities but because of the chair they are holding. This chair is going to be removed from underneath in any case, like – after retirement or in some cases after suspension, and they should not make their situation like the donkey. It is incumbent upon them not to behave like the donkey – expecting everything naturally!

This fella would be the ultimate pack animal — able to carry things both on his back AND in his pouch!

Donkaroo

Yes, that’s correct.

I headed to the county election board today to change my political affiliation from Republican to Democrat. Drove six miles, in fact, to reach it. Arrived at the Election Board at 3:40 pm.

The hours posted on the door were Mon – Fri: 8 am  – 3 pm

What??  EIGHT TO THREE? THREE???

It looks like I’ll be a registered Republican until next week. So, Michael Steele, you have a few more days to convince me not to switch. And it better be good. Because I can see right through you. I would actually like to register as an Independent…but I want to be able to vote in local elections.

A few more days….

Just a few more………

THREE O’CLOCK???

Teacher: What is the full form of maths?
Student: Mentally affected teachers harassing students

Teacher: How old is ur father.
Sunny: As old as I am.
Teacher: How is it possible?
Sunny: He became father only after I was born. (1st Rank)

Teacher: There is a frog, Ship is sinking, potatoes cost Rs3/kg…Then, what is my age?
Student: 32 yrs.
Teacher: How do you know?
Student: Well, my sister is 16 yrs old and she is half mad.

I run in the rain, through the heath, down a private road, to the park. The donkeys wave. Two owls peer out. You have a toy airplane in your hand and make it sweep through the air. You lift it up to show the others, making it fly over their heads. Look! you say. Magic. I speak to you and your three little brothers who sit on their bikes, in height order, and stare at me as I jog pass. You tell me to look for the deer. My day takes on a new shape, loses some of its thorniness.

What do you do when a stranger walks into your house on a Saturday morning, unannounced at 8 am asking for a beer?

Our otherwise calm weekend was shattered….someone I barely recognized just strolled into my sitting room – it took me a moment to recognize him as a friends boyfriend.

It was not much after 9 am – he walked into, just like that , as if invited, and asked us for a beer.

For a moment Peter and I were stunned. We just stared at him. Peter for one had never even met the guy -a tall Indian dude.

I realized from the pong that this chap, lets call him Charlie, was quite drunk. I asked Peter to get him some Ribena and began wondering how we’d get rid of him. We don’t know him well enough to feel comfortable with him being around us on an otherwise intimate Saturday morning, but I know him enough to feel it was a bit too rude to simply say “F- OFF you aren’t invited”.

Dressed rather oddly for a Saturday morning it became clear that this was a Friday night turned Saturday morning. I made a comment that it had been a long night and he revealed that he’d been in a car accident, rolled his car 3 times and had walked over to us. Luckily he wasn’t hurt we all agreed.

I felt as if the pieces were falling into place …but what a perfect con.

The next ten minutes he’s bragging that he’s a trained rally driver, and that he’s a magnificent driver and at age 42 had never rolled a car, that he was in a state of complete shock, as if the car had somehow turned against him. The bashed car was at the garage – he said he’d sent a cheque of half a million to pay for the damages “no big deal he says” – does this retard think we are impressed with talk of cheques of half a million shillings? The only thought going through my head was “What an ass” how do I get rid of him?

“Does your girlfriend know?” I ask “I don’t know” he says, “my three phones were broken” (three phones my ass). “I’ll call her” I offer,

“No, don’t” he replies.

I go to make coffee detouring to my office to send her a text.

“Not sure if u r aware Charlie is here says he had an accident is traumatized, says I shouldn’t call u”

I turn on the kettle and Peter emerges “he says he broke Annes arm”

“WHAT? “

“He broke her arm”

“How? In the accident?

“No, says he got angry and threw something at her”

Now I’m totally confused and very very mad, no FURIOUS.

I call her – it’s true she’s at a local clinic. Shell shocked, she’s asking if he’s being a pain what can she do to get him out of our hair. I tell her I’m coming for her.

*?*! (deleted expletive) beats up his girl and comes over to my house for sympathy. What the *^$%?

I ask him to leave, he puts on that stupid British school boy attitude “I understand” and stands up and wobbles about. I leave Peter to get him completely out with instructions to lock all doors of the house.

We  leave, the @^% is somewhere wondering around the garden, instructions to staff – get rid of him.

Peter and I rushed off to help Anne who is at a clinic waiting in line. She is complete shock. She tells us that  he had crashed his car at about 4 am on his way to her house. He says it rolled 3 times and that the roll bar saved him and his seatbelt. She sounds thankful that he’s safe… what a poor guy traumatized and all. “The  %$#@^&&%%$#  has broken her arm” my head screams!

He told us that he was playing with the steering wheel when the car lost control. I can’t even bring myself to do a Duh! He told her that after the accident a crowd gathered at the scene and someone called a tow truck. He gets the crumpled vehicle towed to her house at 5.30 am. Calls her, she opens up and is sympathetic to his accident, but he drinks some more (he was already completely drunk) then gets angry accuses her for causing the accident (because she didn’t go out with him the night before – THANK GOD

She says he goes into a wild rage, starts breaking things and throwing things around including a full jar of Tahini that hit her on the elbow causing quite some considerable damage. I look at it – her elbow is totally deformed with the swelling, it’s turning blue.

The clinician refers her to a major hospital for an x-ray and we agree to take her immediately. As we were driving she gets a phone call from her house keeper. She listens silently then tells us that the *^&%  has come back and has broken all the windows.

The she breaks down into a pool of tears. We stop the car and I advise her to go straight to the police.

She agrees and we ask the police to arrest him – we know he’s still around, very drunk and is on foot somewhere. He’s easy to spot. Two police officers move off on foot to “catch him”  …can’t be tough, tall skinny Asian guy in an totally African neighbourhood.

They keep calling saying they can’t find him and keep asking for descriptions – this is silly, we know he’s around – there’s only one road  – he’s on it somewhere. A lady drives up to the police station – she tells us she gave a tall Asian a lift to a bar across the way, and that immediately after she dropped him two police ask her for a lift  – they tell her that they are looking for a tall Asian. She said she took them to the bar – at the entrance someone said the Asian got on a boda boda motorbike and left. They head off in the direction the boda boda went in.

We leave the police station furious that he  has escaped but as we drive past the bar I look over only to see the ASS sitting at the very bar– he can see us.  *&%^&^%$#$#$!

We go straight to the two foot patrol men and point them at the guy – they arrest him. We proceed to hospital. It’s now lunch time.

By 5 we’re done with X-rays and are driving back home. She’s agreed to stay with us  – her house is a mess anyway.  At 6 the police want to know what to do with the fellow. Follow your procedures we say – he’s beaten her up and destroyed property. Put him in.

They say they are going to lock him in at the main station. Good.

By 8 pm and we’re at her house evaluating the damage and getting a night bag. Broken bed, broken bulbs, broken lights and a broken door. White gloss paint poured over the newly finished house. She’s in tears again. The place is a mess.

His parents call and beg Anne not to press charges, to get him out of the cell. They admit he’s done wrong but he’ll be molested, attacked, injured even killed in the cell.  She’s torn.

We ask her what she wants to do  - it’s clear. She’s a wreck, her arm is blue and three times the diameter but she doesn’t want him raped or hurt in a cell. She says he’s remorseful (My *&^%!)  I know she’ll never forgive herself, and he’ll never let her forgive herself if he has to sleep in a cell.

So we have to head back to the police station – the Officer in charge is not available. The Duty Officer does not have authority to let someone out. Well we tried, its good enough for me, let him rot in the cell.

But no, someone suggests we ask the Officer in charge of the Division – the guy is in and wants to see us. What happened next could easily be made in a movie. Kenyan policemen are thugs.

I know that spouse abuse is common in Kenya but that does not make the victims pains any less. The police responsible are doing their jobs but they could hold back the laughter and fun they are getting out of this particular situation. They speak in Swahili and poke fun knowing Anne does not understand – but their expressions reveal the fun they are making. They say they don’t understand, the guy has injured her, destroyed her property and why? Because he rolled his car and was frustrated.
“But what did YOU do to make him hit you” the OCPD asks.

She is being asked to admit that she is the reason he got mad, that she triggered something, that it’s all her fault. If its not her fault the officer says then he could come back and hurt you again tonight.

“If it’s just frustration and drink ” he reasons “Why didn’t he go home and wreck his own house – why drive across town at 5 am to break your houses?” the police man asks

It’s a Good *&^* ing question.

Part of me wants to yell at the stupid cop but what good would that do in this situation – we are all his victims now. I feel like a prey stuck in a spiders web. The spider torturing each one of us in turn. It’s taking forever, we have no  idea where his line of questioning is going.

But after an hour of the police logic I knew what I’d do,  let the fucker rot in the cell for the night. He could deal with his plight tomorrow – and his damn parents who claim to love him should come rescue him. Asking his victim to rescue him is obscene and totally retarded.

But I also knew that Anne wouldn’t sleep tonight if he was in a cell. She’d worry and feel extreme guilt. She’d probably punish herself somehow. The police man notices that she has mercy, he can see that she worries about him and asks why. He asks “Why didn’t he worry about you when he started attacking her and destroying her new home?”.

She knows the answer, but logic seems to be on vacation.

They bring the &^%$ out of the cell and haul him in front of us. His attitude alone made me want to instruct the police officer to throw him in with the worst offenders for the entire weekend.

Normally a strong, beautiful, lovely, loving, happy and elegant woman is reduced to a quivering puddle of tears. She can’t escape.

But Charlie, he is enjoying this scene. He has a smirk on his face, he’s actually smiling, enjoying the pain he’s brought to her, the annoyance to us and the police station.  He is feeling loved that someone cares enough to make such an issue out of him. What a ^*&&%$!!!

We get back into the car to leave and I try to talk to her about it, I just don’t get it. The guy is a complete and utter Ass. She says she knows he’s controlling, dangerous  even, he drinks too much (sorry but that’s not an excuse). She tells me she worries that he’ll come and wreck my house if she stays with me. I tell her he cannot. I remind her he hasn’t wrecked anyones house but hers, he hasn’t hurt anyone else but her. He does it because she lets him.

I give her time for that to sink in – he does it because she lets him.

She can’t see it. She says he’s sorry and remorseful – “yeah” I think “just like Kagwai  who says he’s sorry for gauging out his wifes eyes”. She was blinded for life.  He did seven years for, Anne can’t even imagine this Ass doing one night in a cell!

Logic is truly on vacation.

She, ’s a puddle of tears and I feel angry – double angry. Angry because she isn’t angry at the injustice, angry that she’s letting this *%&$  manipulate her. Angry that she’s making excuses for him. Angry that she can’t see – no matter what, she can’t see what I do.

I tell her my own bitter spouse abuse story. Walking out was tough but it was a walk to freedom. And, I’ve never looked back. Everytime I see my &*(*^%  and his wife I feel so grateful it’s not me.

I decided that being alone, lonely, unloved and all that came with it was far far better than in an abusive relationship.

I’m also angry because after all that, we bailed the Fucking Bastard out.  After putting him in, we bailed him out. Retards.  It cost us Khs 10,000/- and an entire day of my life. He doesn’t deserve it. He probably won’t show up for court either.

She left this morning. I know she’s gone to clean up the broken glass, to remove the paint, fix the windows, anything to avoid dealing with what she needs to do to save herself.

I know I have no right but I asked her anyway, if she could imagine writing him off completely, never seeing him again.

She said she could not.

It’s a day later and I feel certain that she will drop the charges, continue seeing him in a fatal attempt to mend his broken being. He isn’t like this every day… he’s a troubled man, a spoilt boy with no boundaries…. she is convinced that he needs her. He’ll apologise, cry genuine tears, even see a councelor and shower her with gifts, take her to great places. He’ll probably even propose to her.

But he’s still the same &*(*^ . I dread what he’ll do to her next time. She knows that we will be there to pick up the pieces, …she’s too nice to do anything that will hurt him. It’s as if she’s trapped – she just can’t let go of him. He has infected her.

But maybe she can escape, she can if he lets go….

I’m not hoping, but just saying….maybe the roll cage won’t hold next time.

Post note:

Charlie and Anne are real people but these are not their real names. Over a 12 hour period I discovered what it takes to effect an arrest in Kenya for spouse abuse – its not easy and you need stoic friends to help you through. Spouse abuse happens every day but most cases never get reported because it’s a fucking drama at the police station and male policemen tend to ‘understand’ male urges. They encourage victims to ‘make up’ and withdraw cases. Victims of spouse abuse need to be strong. Know your rights, make a statement, get the P3 form, take photos of the damage and injuries, and put the Fuckers away for a long long time.  Oh, and turn off your phone so that his parents can’t reach you. The incident happened yesterday and as you can probably tell, I’m still fuming.  And, I know that men are also abused – either way it’s wrong. Get out of toxic relationships fast.

Pin the tail on the jackass

Yesterday the Regents of the University of California voted unanimously to raise undergraduate fees 32%, effective immediately (NOTE: the lone vote in opposition was cast by the token “student regent”, hence EPR still considers the vote unanimous).  I repeat, 32%…effective immediately.  While El Pollo Rico could carry on ad infinitum as to why this was a tragically flawed and myopic decision, EPR will limit himself at the present moment to the following comments and save further analysis for a later time and place, preferably with incriminating photos of the Regents engaging in some sort of deviant porn.  Then again, who wants to see a Regent naked?  THAT would be deviant. 

So what really gets EPR’s huevos in a supertight nudo is that by voting to increase student fees (i.e., place the burden of poor fiscal management on the students), the Regents have demonstrated they are entirely lacking in the sort of courage and imagination that is required to responsibly solve serious problems.  Rather than being heroic, innovative, and in a word “leaders”, they have chosen the most cowardly solution they could possible find: shift responsibility for their  failure of leadership to those who depend on that leadership for guidance and protection.  The Regents’ job and the job of California politicians isn’t to resolve budget crises, it is  (1) to AVERT them, and (2) to protect the fragile academic and economic interests of students while they study and train to become revenue generating members of the economy.  You don’t compound the failure of Job 1 by proceeding to abandon Job 2…!

If you don’t think the decision is morally and ethically bankrupt, imagine your reaction if your landlord increased your rent 32% mid-lease.  First, many tenants would be de facto  evicted.  Second, it would be a violation of the lease.  Third, rent control in many neighborhoods caps dooshbaggery like this at 10%…why? …because it is good public policy!  What EPR is trying to say is that under this model, the Regents are essentially criminally corrupt slumlords.  By jacking fees, they are de facto expelling low income students.  They have violated the reasonable expectation that fees will remain stable throughout the school year and have pissed on the basic tenets of public policy that dictate a steady change in fees (if any) to keep costs in line with fluctuating economic indicators such as inflation and the cost of living index.

[Have I bored you yet? Maybe. Is the landlord-tenant deal a sexy analogy?  No.  But other than the students getting totally fucked, this has nothing to do with sex, so stay with me.]

Dr. ...Yudof?

But someone  is doing something  right…   right?  Well, yes …and no.  In times of great crisis, there is nothing like a charismatic, innovative, and inspirational gesture to settle people’s growing anxiety.  It is how great leaders show their true mettle – they dig deep and provide both strategic and emotional leadership.  So no surprise that chief punk, UC President Mark Yudof, today sent out an email to all students announcing Project You Can.  Pursuant to the stated goals of Project You Can, the university will be raising ONE BILLION dollars in private funds to help students pay the costs of higher education.  Thank you Dr. Evil.  An awesome idea… if you’d done that BEFORE boosting fees 32%…!

And don’t act like this was some unforeseeable catastrophe.  By Yudof’s own account, “State per-student support has shrunk by half in the last 20 years.”  Really.  And it’s just now occurring to you and the other Regent punks to seek alternative funding.  For twenty years, the UC has been letting the goons at the Department of Corrections and other union muscle and bureaucratic turds steal its share of the pie, watching the financial support for its most precious resource – the students – shrink like Costanzas nards when he got out of the pool… but now…NOW it dawns on you to look for some loose change under the couch cushions?  That is some true vision Costa… er… Yudof.  True vision.  You and Costanza might have more in common than you think.

Article about donkeys and some other animals.

Article about donkeys and some other animals.

Disgrace. One of our viewers sent us this video and felt they need to put this man on serious blast. We dont condone animal abuse and this right here is sad. This is how “Grant” is reporting it “One of Armenia’s Riches man has two lions . and what he does is throws in a donkey into the cage for the lions can kill it as they watch for entertainment . But the donkey turns around and almost kills the lion and they got scared that the lion was gonna die so they shot the donkey”This video was shot at what is alleged to be the private zoo of oligarch MP Gagik Tsarukian. Better known to most Armenians by his nickname, Dodi Gago, Tsarukian is believed to be Armenia’s wealthiest citizen . The former world arm-wrestling champion is also head of the second largest political party in the Armenian National Assembly as well as the President of the Armenian National Olympic Committee. Is This is what money does to people? This is sick and horrible

Lately, I’ve been feelin kinda like writers do when they experience writers block. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s because I’m  just not feelin creative, but today I kinda feel like I’m pullin’ this outta my ass.

A new study into Mayan calendar, writing and mythology has revealed that most of us could be turning into asses by the end of 2012 i.e. within three years from today, in fact the process is believed to have already started according to the latest research. The study warns that the human race will be replaced by donkeys (also known as asses) and the existing donkeys will rule over the neo-donkeys.

“Yes, there will be doomsday, but only for the human race. The earth will survive and so will the flora and fauna, sans the humanity. An army of asses will rise from its ashes and enslave the human race. They will also genetically modify us to transform us into substandard asses while the existing asses will rule over us.” Prof. Carlos Santana, who deciphered the new prophecy, informed.

New study has revealed that prehistoric Mayan Kings used to ride donkeys and it was considered to be a mark of respect in those times. In fact the kingdom’s army used to have large fleets of donkeys and wars were fought valiantly with donkeys braying on both the sides. Around the year 1900 BC, a renegade Mayan Knight is supposed to have ridden a horse and defeated the then King in a battle after challenging him publicly. The Knight became the next King and he ordered a mass execution of all the royal donkeys.

“All the asses in the army were beheaded and their bodies were burnt and dumped into a large well in the modern day Belize. This horrified all the other asses and since then the asses have been in a state of shock. The modern day asses are still mourning that massacre and that’s why they are largely silent and tolerant to human excesses. But they are all full of hope and belief that one day that massacred army of asses will rise from the ashes and take revenge.” Prof. Carlos disclosed the startling facts.

According to Prof. Carlos, the army of asses will rejuvenate the existing asses and these slothful looking creatures will be filled with unmatched alacrity and intellect. Then, these asses, under the leadership of the reborn asses, will march to subjugate the human beings. In fact Prof. Carlos believes that a few overexcited asses are already jumping the gun and are attacking human beings in different parts of the world.

Such attacks by asses on human beings are expected to grow rapidly in the coming months. Human beings would debate and plan how to tackle donkey kickbacks, but by then the dead army of asses would have been resurrected, followed by the doomsday. These chilling details of the new found prophecy effectively makes each ass in our neighborhood a potential future oppressor of the human race. So should we kill all the asses?

“No! That would be even more tragic. Each ass that we would kill will be joining the army of the dead asses and this way we would end up dealing with a much powerful army. Instead of killing asses, we should be undertaking more research to find out what kind of strength the army of the dead asses could have. We should prepare for the inevitable battle. I volunteer for the research and I hope the governments around the world would help me with grants.” Prof. Carlos asked for help to save humanity.

The research is already creating strong ripples across the world with various Hollywood producers queuing up to make a movie on the grand battle between asses and human beings. Produces claim that these big budgeted movies would also help in further research and would help the humanity fight the asses. Leading author Dan Brown too is supposed to be mulling over the possibility of writing a book over this possible ass attack.

News channels in India too alerted its viewer about the possible revenge of the asses causing widespread hate attack against asses in various parts of the country. Government has appealed for restraint and has asked people not to act like asses. Home Minister P Chidambaram has assured the citizens that Prime Minister Manmohan Singh would be soon talking about this acute ass problem with US President Barack Obama.

LNF*

• Elephants are the only animals that can’t jump.

• Americans on the average eat 18 acres of pizza every day.

• On average people fear spiders more than they do death.

• Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.

• The liquid inside young coconuts can be used as substitute for blood plasma.

• Dentists have recommended that a toothbrush be kept at least 6 feet away from a toilet to avoid airborne particles resulting from the flush.

• American car horns beep in the tone of F.

• Donkeys kill more people annually than plane crashes.

• Barbie’s full name is Barbara Millicent Roberts.

• On average, 100 people choke to death on ball-point pens every year.

• 7% of Americans will eat McDonalds today.

• All porcupines float in water.

• In Muncie, Indiana, it is illegal to carry fishing tackle in a cemetery.

LNFs on This Day:

1865 – Samuel L. Clemens published “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” under the pen name “Mark Twain” in the New York “Saturday Press.”

1928 – The first successful sound-synchronized animated cartoon premiered in New York. It was Walt Disney’s “Steamboat Willie,” starring Mickey Mouse.

1978 – In Jonestown, Guyana, Reverend Jim Jones persuaded his followers to commit suicide by drinking a death potion. Some people were shot to death. 914 cult members were left dead including over 200 children.

1987 – U2 opened for itself by pretending to be a country-rock group called The Dalton Brothers during a concert in Los Angeles

1994 – Cab Calloway died at the age of 86.

*Why LNF? Why Plain White Shirt? Read Rorschach’s Ribs and all will be understood.

THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION
There are people resemling one another, at least seven according to sources.
If some such people, of different ages, are arranged in a row, we will be tempted to believe that they are related to each other.
The casual similarity of the outline of east coast of America and the west coast of Africa, was enough to jump to the conclusion that, one broke away from the other, as if these are ice blocks!
There is the Kennedy rock hill, which looks like the profile of the ex President of the USA, when viewed from a particular point.
A scientific theory must be subjected to the same hair splitting analysis, as is customary in a criminal case. A single evidence against the prosecution theory will, if the evidence is admitted in the court, enable the culprit to get away with it.
SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
If survival is the aim of evolution, plancktons, grass and cockroaches are better evolved than mammals, many species of wich have been totally wiped off from the earth. Man is extremely vulnerable.
If the resmblance in behavior is studied, asian elephants are much more similar to us, than the chimpanzee. It was in the news that a female elephant, of a circus company, was eloped by a wild elephant. Savitry, the circus elephant, returned after some months in the forest, carrying a baby in its woumb! Did they love each other as cildren, before Savitry was caught by men? Otherwise why did its lover pick her for mating?
 My father used to tell us about an elephant which could write 51 letters of Malayalam in sand, using a stick.

 Man is envious. Other creatures exploit species, different from their own. Man exploits his own brothers, making them slaves either directly or by giving wages.
Today, he is making a large number of nulear power plants, without a thought about future generations, who will curse us, after we have left the scene.
All through history he has done only one thing kill ) to the pwer of billion billion !

Sweet Emy

This is our sweet donkey, Emy. She is the most gentle loving animal I have ever had. Rescued her from an auction barn knowing she was old, but our eyes met and I knew I had to give her a really good life. It is amazing how lovely these animals can be. They are very social and love to be around people. She really has been a gift…

This is a documentary of Luis Soriano, a teacher in the small town of La Gloria, Colombia. It shows his strong belief of providing acces to the children of Columbia’s rural communities on the back of his donkeys.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

I woke up with a tremendous urge to get my poem, “Cushion and Cardboard” to the Governor General. I thought about delivering it directly at Kings House and I also thought about delivering it via the Pastor but I had to get to Mount Zion first (see below).  

Office of the Children’s Advocate

I spoke to Courtney Berry, Investigating Officer at the Office of the Children’s Advocate on Friday (November 13, 2009). He was referred to me by Dr. Sensitivity who happens to know the Children’s Advocate very very well. I sent Mr. Berry a copy of the letter I sent to the Child Development Agency and directed him to my blog posts.    

The Health Centre

I now have the contact names for a nurse and a doctor at the nearest clinic to Jerusalem. Dr. Sensitivity gave me the link on Friday. So, with a little more help the boys can see a doctor. Right?   

Introducing Aunt Resilience and the Sabbath Lesson

Aunt Resilience is visiting Jamaica from the United States. She is here for a church sister’s funeral. I just love Aunt Resilience; I love her because she is almost ninety, strong as a lion and appreciates her history. Aunt Resilience is a nurse like I am and a teacher, sewing “Seeds of Insight” to those who are smart enough to pay attention.

Aunt Resilience asked her nephew if He could come down to Stone River (not the real name of the community) on Sabbath. After discussing the request with His wife, the decision was made. God through the Universe had set aside Saturday, November 14th as a special day. Of course I was happy to go along to meet again with the country people and smell the sweet scents of God in all His glory.

“Hustle di Money”

Next door to the Burger King in May Pen was a Captain’s Bakery; we stopped to purchase some snacks. Low and behold! There in the show case of Captain’s I saw some flat buns with these words written in red food coloring on their glazed tops:

Hustle di Money

“Hustle di Money” (this bun was in the centre of the tray).

“Fluffy to di wurl” (this was the largest bun).

“Not nice” (the words on this bun were easily noticed…much clearer than the rest.)

I smiled to myself as I saw how the Captain (or the baker) was using the messages of the streets to market his product. I asked permission from the women selling in the bakery to take a photograph. They agreed.

From May Pen we journeyed on up into Stone River, a community in the constituency of Mr. Pearnel Charles (the man who is known for his half black – half white hairdo which splits his head into two imperfect sides, separating his right head from his left).

“The road does not look familiar at all,” I remarked to my husband.

“Sure, it looks very different ’cause the roads are bad.”

We drove through the unfamiliar roads, my husband hurrying to get to church…we were already late. I noticed two old bridges and as we drove over them, I prayed that they would not collapse with us. I wondered if they would be strong enough to withstand another Hurricane.

“YOU ARE ENTERING STONE RIVER” said the friendly street sign. 

We arrived safely at the square and I immediately remembered the times I had visited before. The Guango Tree was still standing but I did not notice it. The car swerved to the left and in a few minutes we pulled into the church yard and parked. The sermon was already in “full swing.”

The Sermon

“…God’s people should not be altering between two opinions…be sure your anchor holds and grips the solid rock…these people draw unto me with their lips but their hearts are far from me…

…I have shoes on my feet, food on the table, lovely wife and a home…all of these I have yet I am indebted to Jesus Christ…

Whatever it is that is determined by God, no man can change. God said don’t go, but he chose to go…the angel of the Lord withstand him in the way…

On the matter of unequally yoked, the First Elder paused to tell another story, “I know of a sister who married to a man for fifteen years and everything seemed to be going well but after fifteen years the marriage broke up. Even if it took fifteen years, it came to pass…”

I listened to the First Elder preached with his not-so-good English, his perfect message and his loud voice into the Jamaican microphone; I closed my eyes and asked God:

“But a wonda if dis man a drop wud fi mi sah? I hope not “cause I could teach him a ting or two ’bout unequally yolked – I could teach him The Truth about unequally yolked.”     

I decided to pay attention to the sermon and rest my case on the matter of unequally yoked.

The First Elder continued to preach: “The donkey fell down and worship…and even then the man was worshiping in ignorance…God knows how to get your attention…Balaam struck the — these three times you have hit me…these times you have worked me…if I had a sword, I would…any where you ask me to go I carry you…and now that I see something that you don’t see…you want to destroy me.’ After the donkey talk, the man’s eyes were open and he saw…”

Crescendo

CHURCH “if you could see what I see – brethren we should not lack vision. We have everything to empower us to go on. I am with you to keep you. We have the Holy Spirit to show us the way…and if as a church we have such a powerful force…we cannot stay ‘wishy-washy’…”

A church sister who was sitting two benches up and across the far left from me could not stand her ground any longer, she yelled, “HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!

“We must have that hope that burns within our hearts…” yelled the First Elder.

“AMEN! AMEN!” shouted the sister.

“…Lord, Plant my feet on higher ground…”

The sister got up from her seat and “turn her roll,” clap a few times and shouted again, “HALLELUJAH! YES! AMEN!

“Just over in the promise land…some of us get weary…some of us get tired…there we must enter, never more to roam…we must live a Godly and sober life in this present world…

And God’s anger was kindled because he went…some of us have been too presumptuous…we need to change our ways…God said go with the men…Balaam went with the princes of Balak…we would have save ourselves the trouble we are now in if we listened the first time…and we are so presumptuous that we ask God to bless!”

Again I wondered if the preacher was talking to me ’cause I know the “runnings.” 

As he lowered his voice and settled the congregation he said his final words, “The word that God putteth in thy mouth that he shall speak. For too long as a church we know what God requires of us…There is no lack of knowledge but we fail to surrender…”

Boy, the First Elder “chaw fire” up at Stone River yesterday before he called on the pastor to close the service. The pastor was a young man, well dressed in his deep forest green suit, beige shirt visible only at the collar, deep voice with perfect English and handsome to the bone.

Later Aunt Resilience and I spoke about the “underling” and I asked myself, “Who is the underling? Is it the First Elder or is it the Pastor?”

The Pastor’s wife was also young and bright. She came over to greet us and provided comfort. 

Ras and Son

After church we ate lunch provided by the brethren. Some of us sat on wooden benches under the Guinnep tree, some on the graves in the church yard, some on specially donated chairs and others sat in the vestry. I noticed a Rasta Man too who later told me, “I am a member of the church.” He saw that my husband was taking lots of photographs so he asked for one. I prompted my husband to take the Ras’ photo; it was a wonderful sight, just admiring the Rasventist with his young son.      

Mount Zion

There are many Mount Zions in Jamaica but none as significant as the one up there on top of Stone River. We have been to Stone River many times but never to Mount Zion where it all started. Aunt Resilience changed that yesterday…the Universe through her took me up to Mount Zion. We left the church and drove up to the hill top. On our journey we noticed the narrow road, old buildings, men, women and children. We noticed a go-cart repair yard on the side of the road and the scene moved the grieving daughter to say, “Oh, Jamaicans are so innovative.”       

 

We approached Mount Zion Baptist Church on the hill called Diamond. That was the church where they all worshiped as children. It served as a church and a school in those days. His grandmother is resting on the other side of the road. I thought about her and my grandmother as they sleep on Mount Zion’s hill; one in Clarendon and the other in Hanover. Aunt Resilience and the rest of the party walked around the Baptist church yard and admired the old building. It was still standing tall but was battered and dry; though the grass was cut, there was little evidence of a vibrant life. The old belfry was barely standing and the steps that led up to the church door was hastily daubed with commercially made red oak dye, an indication of the mood that now exists in many of these traditional churches. There was a tiny house adjacent to Mount Zion Baptist. I learned that the “high coloured” minister lived there in those days; it was only two rooms and stood on one wooden stilt and many supporting concrete-stone legs.

Mount Zion Baptist Church

Churches like Mount Zion Baptist were always built with very high ceilings and solid stone walls on the hills…the best hills of Jamaica. I am noticing now that the Adventist churches are built generally out of modest material and situated in the valleys where the people live. People do not have to walk up to the hills for church anymore; the hills with their churches have now moved down to the people.

And so it is with Dancehall…the music have moved down to the valleys to live among the people. That’s why the preacher shouts just like the dancehall artiste because the voice has to be loud enough to spread across the valley and rise up into the hills. 

“If walls could talk,” the voice said.

Everybody sick

Miss Pollie lives on Mount Zion.  She is hard of hearing in her eight decade of life but she remembers everyone. She reminded me of Miss Marry from Georgia Road (where my roots can be found). What a woman fi chat! 

She spoke about Dick, Tom and Harry; ol’ time days and modern days; young wife and ol’ wife. Miss Pollie chat with her mouth and her big round eyes. She chat till she looked like she was tired and then left us with these words, ”Everybody sick…sickness everywhere.”

Curry Pus

On our way down the hill we stopped by the 1954 church to say our last goodbyes. “Curry Pus” was still there walking unsteadily on her crooked cane. She had tumors all over her visible skin; tumors that twisted her nose and tumors that bent her fingers. Her feet were carefully covered but not enough to hide the swelling which forced the shape of her tough slippers. 

“Come out a di church yard Curry Puss,” a young man yelled from underneath the Guinnep tree.

“You rass yu, nuh mek mi tell yu ’bout yu rass,” I heard her say with her sick and needy voice.

Curry Puss obeyed the young man and left the church yard. I did not notice if she was fed but I suspected that she was.

Back to Antonio in Kingston

We descended the hill from Stone Hill SDA and noticed the Guango Tree. It was still standing tall in the middle of the square. I mused, “This country square is not as old as mine in Cascade; not at all.”

We drove back to Kingston in silence. I was thinking about family life with all its complexities and I was thinking about Antonio. My young son was sleeping uncomfortably on the back seat of the car, a space that he had outgrown. I thought about Antonio again and Miss Puncie. The last time I spoke to them was on Thursday. Antonio called me from Miss Puncie’s phone to tell me thanks for the blankets. He asked me to return the call. When I did, I heard a recording of the song, “Mercy Said No” playing like a testimony on Miss Puncie’s cell phone.

“I just want to say thank, Thank You.”  

Tamian was right. Antonio is sincere.