Month: May 2017

Terror in Manchester

Shortly after 10.33 pm last night, just after the conclusion of American singer and pop idol Ariana Grande’s concert, a man in a suicide vest with a bomb strapped to it detonated an explosive device killing 22 people and injuring more than 50 people.  Most of the dead were children. They are known as “soft targets.”  Police are treating the incident as a terrorist attack.

We’ve seen this scenario often enough.  Remember the Bataclan in France?  On Friday 13, November 2015, three heavily armed men got out of a black Volkswagen Polo and entered the concert hall, three hours later, the carnage included 90 dead and many many critically injured among the victims.  In December 2016, a lorry driven by a Tunisian man drove into a crowded Berlin Christmas market killing 12 and leaving 48 injured.  Again, there was sorrow and anger at the senseless killing of so many and again, the country involved had to stand tall and not flinch at the slaughter of so many innocents.  German author, Anne Wizorek, said it best during her speech to the people gathered to pay their respects at the Brandenberg Gate in Berlin.  “We need radical solidarity.  We have to stand together and not be torn apart.  We cannot let the hate and the fear have a platform.”

So, here we are again, shocked beyond belief at the senseless and horrific killing of so many, including children.  It should have been a night of fun and unforgettable memories.  Instead, many will carry images of people strewn around like rag dolls and blood  and body parts splattered everywhere.  Furthermore, for the dead the memories have stopped for all eternity.

Evil has a name, it is called terror.  This kind of terror will happen over and over again and stopping it will be like looking for a “needle in a haystack.”  Even if they do find a way to stop it, knowing when and where the next attack will take place will be a guessing game.

That is the scary reality.

Loose Lips Sink Ships

An article about President Trump and his inability to keep “secrets.”

The 45th President is in hot water again and this just days after the controversial firing of FBI Director, James Comey. The president alleged that the firing was due to Comey “not doing a good job,” and instead of leaving it at that, he went on to tweet a thinly veiled threat suggesting that there was a taped recording of his conversation with Comey further adding, “James Comey better hope that there are no ‘tapes’ of our conversations before he starts leaking to the press.” That threw him into the eye of the hurricane where he has been ever since.

As if that wasn’t enough to throw his presidency into a downward spiral, the president was off and running to his next debacle. This one involves allegations that he divulged classified information to Russian diplomats in the Oval Office. The Washington Post reported that Trump revealed highly classified information on the Islamic State group during his meeting with Russia’s Foreign Minister, Sergei Lavrov and Russian Ambassador, Sergey Kialyak. Yes folks, ignorance is bliss and where the new President is concerned, it’s enough to “sink ships,” or his Presidency.

The latest morsel of “red meat” was just what the press needed to send them scrambling to get the best angle on the developing story as dreams of “impeachment” riddled through the minds of die-hard Trump haters. Not so fast people. There is such a thing as damage control and the White House has been doing just that sending in the “big guns” to take care of business. If Spicer’s “stare down the press” tactics hasn’t worked, well, maybe sending in National Security Advisor HR McMaster might just do the job. In his no-nonsense fashion, he denied that the President had revealed, “Intelligence sources or methods,” but reviewed, “a range of common threats to our two countries including threats to civil aviation.” Was that enough to calm the “storm” and bring it to a screeching halt? Guess again.

Trump’s questionable tweets and actions have put his Presidency in turmoil once again and not even all the President’s men and women can put it back together again. This latest drama is one of his own making and if he doesn’t stop shooting off tweets from the White House during the early morning hours instead of getting some sleep, this situation is only going to get worse. Perhaps, he should take a tip from the 44th President, Barack Obama, when the going gets tough, go golfing. There is no better way to let off some steam than by shooting a small ball into a round hole at the same time cussing under your breath about all the wrongs of the world that needs righting. A surefire way to keep the lid on an explosive situation and you come off looking like a winner.

One last thing, the office of the President deserves a modicum of decorum and spouting off “secrets” at the drop of a coin and shooting off tweets like a teenager is not the way to get it.

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Trumpenitus

A light-hearted look at the Trump Presidency.

To tell you the truth, I’ve got a love-hate relationship with the 45th President, Donald J. Trump.  I guess I’ve got more then that going, I’ve developed a symptom I would like to call Trumpenitus.  Read on to find out what it is.

I liked him well-enough at the beginning of his run for the White House.  He was funny and a breath of fresh air compared to the other stiff-necked candidates. I could see that it wasn’t going to be politics as usual with him.  There was something in the air, some may call it a bunch of “bull” but that slogan, “Make America Great Again,” had me singing his praises and it caught on like wild-fire with his supporters leaving the one other significant candidate, Hillary Clinton, free-falling and into nothingness.

Against all odds, he went on to win the Presidency leaving  Democrats in the dust asking, “What happened here?”  The 45th President was voted in and inaugurated with pomp and circumstance and I was still on the Trump bandwagon waving my flag and standing tall and with a big smile on my face.  I told a friend, “I think he’ll be good for the country.  Perhaps he’ll turn things around and “Make America Great Again.”  My friend an ardent but sour grapes Democrat was crushed and replied, “You must be out of your mind.”  Looking back I must have been or I simply had Trumpenitus, a gushing in my ear of all things Trump.  Yes, I was full of it or of something or rather.

It’s been a roller-coaster ride and only a little more than a 100 days into his Presidency when the alarm bells starting ringing.  First, it was the banning of Muslims from certain countries.  Let’s just say that was obvious since he had been hinting about it throughout his campaign.  It was nothing new but to actually put a ban into effect took gumption and a narrow-eyed focus.  My first reaction was, “How’s this going to work?”  I didn’t think it was fair and with the rise of hate crimes against Muslims in the country, I knew that it would only escalate the situation and cause more problems.  I told myself to take the wait and see approach.  Perhaps, he had a plan and maybe the ringing in my ears and head might come to a screeching halt.  I could only pray but I was still hanging onto that bandwagon, the Trump wagon that is.

No chance, it took off again when he okayed the strike against Syria with very little media hoopla.  Gone were the days of putting every move and strategic advantage out there so that the media could dissect every little detail and when the administration finally made a move, the enemy had packed up their assets and left town.  This was refreshing indeed, finally a Commander-in-Chief who was willing to show the world, “Who’s the boss?”  Good, the love-shine hadn’t worn off yet.

Oh wait, I spoke too soon.  Now, the tweets were coming in fast and furious and the digs at the media was causing more than a flurry.  They, the media, was waging war on the President except of course for Fox News. They were his darlings (talking about the moderators on Fox News)  and could do no wrong as far as he was concerned. Suddenly, North Korea was looming high and mighty and hissing at the fringes.  Tough talk from the President didn’t do much to soothe the situation or calm the chubby dictator and get him off his stool of arrogance.  Ok, here we go, I thought.  He’s going to get us in a war.  Trigger-happy? Perhaps.

Trumpenitus was in full swing by now.  Tax cuts, picking fights like a school yard bully, border wall disputes, deportation of illegal immigrants, repeal and replace Obamacare and repeal Michelle Obama’s healthy school lunch plans.  Did I miss anything?  Probably but who cares.  Just when I thought I had a grasp on one idea, he was off and running to another.  Oh Lord, I need something for the ringing….. He’s making my ears ring and my head spin at the same time!  What happens when you take on too much in a minimum amount of time?  Your guess is as good as mine.

In a nutshell, the 45th President, Donald J. Trump wants to do good for the country but I wonder if he’s on a fast-track to disaster because of the speed-cycle he’s chosen?  His chart-busting moves is making me sick.  I need a doctor fast!

The Killing of Alton Sterling

My heart cries today for a family who lost a loved one in such a horrible way and to make matters worse, it was announced yesterday that the two officers involved in the shooting will not face charges because of insufficient evidence and the “beyond a reasonable doubt” clause.  That was enough to set the officers free with no accountability  for the death of another black male.

The killing of Alton Sterling took place on July 5, 2016. The two officers confronted him in front of Triple S Food Mart in Baton Rouge, Lousiana, and what happened next was hard to watch.  The video shows a black man being pinned down by two white officers with one officer kneeling on his chest and the other on his thigh.  One of the officers had his gun drawn and was pointing it at the man on the ground.  If Alton Sterling was struggling, it’s only natural. Wouldn’t you, if you had someone pressing down on your chest?  The situation escalated when one of the officers was heard yelling, “He’s got a gun in his pocket!” Three gunshots were heard and seconds later, three more.  A life had been taken and Alton Sterling was dead with three shots to his chest and three to his back.  A nation mourns again for a man they didn’t know but they had seen this before.  This seems to be the sorry state of affairs in America, the overuse of force by law enforcement where black men are concerned and the no accountability factor afterwards.  It almost seems like law enforcement has some kind of immunity from being punished for the killings.  President Obama once released a statement  saying, “Americans should feel outraged at episodes of police brutality since they’re rooted in long-simmering racial discord.”  Are the shootings racially motivated?  You decide.

It is not just Americans who are outraged by the killings which seem to take place at regular intervals.  The world has a front row seat because of social media and all it takes to get it out there is a click of a button and the injustice is played out on the screen for all to see.  Some may say, “There is more to the video than what is shown.”  Perhaps, but what justification is there for shooting a man three times in his chest and then three times in his back?  His gun was not drawn, it was in his  pocket according to numerous eye-witnesses.  What if he had had a gun?  In a country that sees carrying a gun as a normal affair, why should this have caused any alarm?   Alton Sterling wasn’t pointing a gun at anyone when the officers arrived at the scene, it was tucked away in his pants pocket.  So, what justification did they have for the shooting?  We will never know because this fatal shooting will go down as the others did.  Protests on the streets in many different cities but to no avail, they can’t change the outcome which seems to have already been decided even before the announcement yesterday.  Police officers walk to a different drumbeat.  They can’t be prosecuted even if the evidence is staring you in the face.

So, it goes on and on.  More killings will take place, more outrage on the streets, anger and rage simmering within but nothing changes.  Let’s wait for the next shooting which will happen soon enough and maybe just maybe there is accountability for the taking of a life.

The only thing that is “beyond a reasonable doubt,” is the fact that Alton Sterling is dead.  He is dead and gone.  Nothing will bring him back.  Did he get justice?  What do you think?

 

 

Sleep, Where Art Thou?

Ever laid awake all night and wondered why sleep is evading you?  If you have, you’re not alone.  Say hello to your comrade-in-arms.  It started several months ago.  Out of the blue, my sleepless nights appeared wearing bells and since then I go to bed with good intentions but alas, “sleep” is nowhere to be found.

After months of feeling like a walking zombie, I started looking for natural remedies for my sleep problems.  I tried yoga and did everything that was asked of me short of turning myself into a pretzel and although yoga helped to keep me pliable like warm taffy, it didn’t help me as far as sleep was concerned.  Next on my list was a warm cup of milk.  Sprinkle some turmeric, stir it around to turn it into a golden delicious liquid and you’re good to go.  Lo and behold, a miracle happened the first time I tried this magic potion.  Half an hour later, I was sleeping like a baby and woke up feeling refreshed like a new-born with nowhere to go.  However, this solution was a one-trick pony.  The following night, this miracle sleep elixir had lost its shine and I was back to square one, looking pretty in my floral pyjamas but I couldn’t lure “sleep” into my bed.

A week later, a friend told me about guided sleep meditation videos on YouTube.  Ah yes, YouTube, the guru on all things wrong with this world.  I decided to give it a try.  I spruced myself up for sleep with YouTube splashed across my TV screen.  Let me tell you, the choices are plenty.  There are videos lasting just 15 minutes and guaranteed to put you to sleep but alas they hadn’t reckoned on me.  I am a tough cookie.  There are also videos that go on for about 1 1/2 hours but by the time I made it to 1/2 an hour, I threw off my blanket in irritation and switched it off.  I was wide-awake and it was a sleep pooper.

Finally, I read somewhere that deep breathing helps.  I decided to give this one a go.  What did I have to lose except that bug-eyed look from too little sleep.  I approached it cautiously.  I tried taking 5 deep breaths, each one slowly in through the nose and then out through the mouth.  The trick is to take your time breathing in and out.  After the fifth one, I felt myself relaxing.  Oops, something was definitely happening.  Next, I had to take five more breaths, this time breathe in through the nose, hold for five counts and release through the mouth.  After the third breath, hold and release, I could see my Prince of Sleep approaching slowly.  That night I slept like a well-fed baby.  I tried again the next night and again it sent me off to La La Land in no time at all.  Truthfully though, I have to add that it doesn’t work every night and some nights, it takes a little longer for sleep to appear but this method does work.  I followed this up with the dead man’s pose.  Taken from yoga, this has a propensity to totally relax you.  Here’s how it works.  Lay on your back on the floor or your bed, fully stretched out.  Let yourself go, first relaxing your feet, then your ankles and so on until you reach your head.  Work to let go of thoughts that enter your mind and reel it back in to your breathing.  Easier said then done but with practice, this is a sure fire way to catch some zzz’s.  So if you are like me, sleepless in Germany or wherever you’re at, give these two methods a go.

Sleep deprivation or rather not sleeping enough is a big problem.  It affects your health significantly.  Sleep disorders have been linked to other factors such as stress, relationship problems, medical health conditions just to mention a few.  What I do know is that if not treated, this condition can cause memory problems, can affect job performance and cause problems in your relationship.  Some of the solutions I have stated did not work for me but it might for you.  All I can say is give it a try, who knows it may just be the right remedy for you.

“Good night, sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Murder in the First?

It should have been murder in the first but the woman who committed the heinous crime of killing my mother with seven blows to her head walked off with a  4 1/2 years prison term with time already served taken into account.  It was a tap on the fingers for a brutal crime perpetuated on an elderly woman but criminals it seems walk to a different beat these days.  Gone are the days when they had almost no rights but those days are somewhat of a bygone era. These days they flaunt what they have done and the justice system panders to their rights.  This is my story or rather, this is her story.

It has been almost 15 years since her death. Some years the anniversary of her death goes by quietly without an onslaught on my memory but today it is a different story.   As another anniversary draws near, thoughts of her cross my mind and my mood reflects that of the rain-washed streets outside and the grey and dingy skies above.  A tear rolls down my face for the injustice she suffered not only at the hands of her perpetrator but the justice system as well. Even after all these years, it hurts.

She was a small woman but that didn’t stop her from giving  birth to eight children.  When I think of her, it is of a busy woman.  She was always in motion. Cooking, cleaning, patching up a wound or simply being a mother.  She didn’t have time to sit around and have a moment to herself.  Her days were filled with us and we weren’t an easy bunch.  I know because as a mother of one, I now realize just what a gigantic task she must have had of raising us.  I never heard her complain and if she did, it was done in silence. I remember she didn’t have time to coddle us either with love and her voice was tinged with harshness but we knew without a doubt that this woman loved us unconditionally.  She was a church-going woman, God was first in her life as it was with dad.  They brought us up as God-fearing children and our growing up years were spent at church most Sundays learning how to be good god-fearing children.  Somehow it worked.  She managed to raise  eight good and loving children but since there was no crystal ball to show us the future, we were unaware of the pain she would endure before she took her last breath.

It was a sunny day in May when I got the call.  The voice on the other end was raw and all I heard was, “Come home, it’s mum.”  I felt a chill run down my spine as I held on to the phone and gripped it tightly.  I hadn’t seen her in almost two years and our conversations had been far and few in between.  It was my brother on the other end and he didn’t tell me what had happened and I didn’t ask.  In retrospect, it seems strange now.  It was as if I knew without knowing that whatever had happened, it would tear me apart.

I managed to get a flight and flew home two days later.  I remember it was unbearably hot as I stepped off the plane.  I won’t say where home is because it is not important but what happened to her is.  We, my husband and I, took a taxi to the funeral parlor and as I walked in, my eyes were drawn to the flower drapped casket close to the altar. It looked small and forlorn if not for the flowers.  Roses, she would have loved them I thought, they were her favorite flowers.  However, I was disappointed.  I had wanted to see her face one last time and say my goodbyes and I felt anger towards my family for having a closed casket.  Why couldn’t they have waited?

The service droned on as hymns were sung.  I sat in the front pew and watched the casket as tears rolled down my face.  All I could see was this little woman giving me her favorite advice and how I had huffed with impatience.  “If you fall off a horse, don’t wait too long, dust off, pick yourself back up and get back on that horse.”  I screamed silently, “Say that again mummy, I’ll listen this time.”  Somehow I felt my shoulders straighten and I felt strength course through my body as I held my head up high, more for her then for myself.  I was her daughter and those words of hers have stood the test of time.

After the service, I walked outside into bright sunshine and learned the truth about her death.  She was found bludgeoned to death in her bedroom.  My sister-in-law found her in the dark blood-splattered room.  She had been dead for almost 8 hours according to the coroner’s report.  Her skull was crushed with a blunt object which later turned out to be her telephone.  She suffered broken fingers and bruises from trying to protect herself but this 67-year-old woman was no match against her 26-year-old assailant. The bedroom door was locked so if she had been alive at the time, there was no way she could have called for help because the assailant took the telephone with her as she left my mother bleeding profusely from her wounds, her life seeping away slowly.  The murderer then went into the bathroom and had a shower washing my mother’s blood off her.  In her words, “I was covered from head to toe with her blood.”  She then proceeded to dress herself in one of my mother’s outfits, took the money, the jewelery, the murder weapon and left locking the door behind her.  She took a taxi to a river close by and disposed of the murder weapon and later that day went to a pawnshop and pawned two gold chains for an undisclosed sum of money.

This demon was caught a week after my mother’s funeral.  I was back home in Germany when I got the news.  She was my mother’s maid, a woman who had come from a distant land and whom my mother had taken in as another daughter.  The newspapers splashed pictures of the assailant everywhere but I refused to see what she looked like and to this day I don’t know what she looks like.  I didn’t want to give her a face.  I wanted to kill her with my own bare hands!  These feelings of revenge shocked me.  I am a gentle person and didn’t believe in such thoughts or the death sentence but I found myself wanting just that.  She had to pay for what she had done.  I wanted to see her die!

I had my own demons to fight.  On that May morning, she didn’t just take my mother’s life but in doing so, she had set a chain of events in motion.  I can’t speak for my siblings but I found myself on a roller-coaster ride of emotions.  I would cry uncontrollably and when I went to bed, I would find myself facing off with her murderer.  It was as if I was blaming myself for her death.  Why wasn’t I there to protect her?  Those words would haunt me for years to come.  I found myself being afraid in underground park houses and afraid to let anyone in to the house.  I was suffering inside and no one could help me.  She had killed her so brutally but that was just the beginning of things to come.

The trial was a somber affair as trials go.  I refused to be there because I didn’t want to see her and besides I was sure she would get the death penalty, I was dead sure.  I was dead wrong.  A week into the trial, the verdict was handed out.  She walked with 4 1/2 years and hung her head in relief as the courtroom rumbled with disbelief.  I got the message and felt the pain shoot through me all over again.  All I could think was, “they killed her again.”  I tried appealing but to no avail.  It was a closed case and the message was clear, “We are sorry for your loss but the verdict is in.”  Why?  I don’t know and I will never know.

I mourned all over again.  I could have been wearing sackcloth and ashes for all I cared until one day, my four-year-old turned to me and said, “Don’t cry mummy, I know something terrible happened to grandma but she is in heaven now,” and he hugged me tightly and looked up at me with those big brown eyes of his.  He had only seen her once in his lifetime and I remember how she was taken with him.  She spoke to him in English and he spoke back in German and I made a mental note to teach him English so that they could communicate the next time.  Now, it was too late.  I looked at this dear little boy of mine and knew that my life must go on, she would have wanted that.  Afterall, she raised us to be strong individuals.

Three years after her death, I let her go.  There was nothing more I could do for her.  However, I won’t let her death go as just a case number.  She was more than that.  She had a name and it was Angela and she was a wife, a mother, a grandmother and a friend to many. She was a God-fearing person and didn’t deserve to die the way she did, alone in that dark room.  She died because she had shown kindness to a stranger. Some may say she had been too trusting, perhaps they are right.  She lived her life in a different world, in hers you help those in need and that was what she did when she took this woman in.  Whatever the case maybe, victims have rights too.  I think we forget that in our rush to protect perpetrators and forget those that lost their lives to them.  This has to change.

In my opinion, my mum didn’t get the justice she deserved and her murderer is out on the streets again, perhaps to kill again. Why not?  She paid very little for what she had done. A lesson learned?  I don’t think so.

Rest in peace mum.