Sunday, July 18, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Nomusa WILL run the Comrades
I have to be the crucial support system that she requires, even if I die dong it. I haven't done any serious exercise since I was substituted by my social soccer team Amavevane for scoring an own goal some three years ago. I am scared that if I resume my soccer career, I might be declared the leading own goal scorer.
Anyway, I have to start doing something in the direction of training. The problem is how to start. HELP!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, January 09, 2009
This is the beginning of the rest of my life
The last time I posted anything was at the beginning of 2008, or was it the end of 2007? Anyway, all I can say is that 2008 was a wasted year in many ways than one. It was the worst year in many Zimbabweans' lives. I write this because I am taking a painful yet necessary decision to leave the country of my birth for a foreign land.
My boys and I will pack a few items and the clothes on our backs to leave for peaceful Botswana where my wife has found a job. The reason we are not taking anything with us is that this is an opportunity to start a new life. We don't want to take the bitter memories with us, we just want to turn our backs on a nighmare we thought would never end.
Anyone, let alone children should not be exposed to the type of existence we were forced to endure. We can point fingers at the corrupt, selfish and vicious establishment, but the ultimate decision remains with us. we got the government that we deserved because through the years, the struggle that we tried to illuminate was being stiffled by a spetacular yet debilitating show of apathy and abject fear that has brought such a wonderful country to its knees.
Being away will give me time to reflect and resume those pastimes that remain so close to my heart. Writing and teaching will help me to regain the sanity that I almost lost. I will use my experiences in Zimbabwe to motivate others, to preach the gospel of tolerance, peserverence and the respect for human dignity, to say to those who are yet to see that this is not a path they wuld like to take.
To those who remain, my prayers are with you because for you to have survived this far is sure indication that God has you under the wings of his angels. Things will definately get better...
My boys and I will pack a few items and the clothes on our backs to leave for peaceful Botswana where my wife has found a job. The reason we are not taking anything with us is that this is an opportunity to start a new life. We don't want to take the bitter memories with us, we just want to turn our backs on a nighmare we thought would never end.
Anyone, let alone children should not be exposed to the type of existence we were forced to endure. We can point fingers at the corrupt, selfish and vicious establishment, but the ultimate decision remains with us. we got the government that we deserved because through the years, the struggle that we tried to illuminate was being stiffled by a spetacular yet debilitating show of apathy and abject fear that has brought such a wonderful country to its knees.
Being away will give me time to reflect and resume those pastimes that remain so close to my heart. Writing and teaching will help me to regain the sanity that I almost lost. I will use my experiences in Zimbabwe to motivate others, to preach the gospel of tolerance, peserverence and the respect for human dignity, to say to those who are yet to see that this is not a path they wuld like to take.
To those who remain, my prayers are with you because for you to have survived this far is sure indication that God has you under the wings of his angels. Things will definately get better...
Thursday, December 20, 2007
If this does not blow your mind, then...
The Rise of The Phoenix: An Evolving Global Humanity
Bruce H. Lipton, PhD © 2007
This artcle is featured in Mystic Pop’s Nov/Dec issue: Mystic Pop
It is obvious, even to the most Prozaced-out individual, that today’s global crises impacting the environment, health, economics and social stability are threatening the survival of human civilization. Suddenly, the old cartoon of some bearded weirdo carrying a placard reading, “The World is Ending!” doesn’t seem that funny. Media and government continuously focus our attention on the darkness of impending crises, however, recent advances in physics and biology offer a significantly different and amazingly hopeful alternative for these very same symptoms.
New scientific insights suggest the evolution of human civilization resembles the recurring fate of the Phoenix, a sacred firebird revered in ancient Egyptian mythology. At the end of its lifecycle the Phoenix builds a nest of cinnamon twigs that it then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes. From the ashes arises a new and greater Phoenix.
A renaissance in scientific awareness is rewriting our fundamental perceptions about life and evolution. Weaving together the elements of the new physics (quantum mechanics), the new biology (epigenetics) and the new math (fractal geometry) reveal that today’s crises are not signifying an end to civilization, rather they are portents of an astounding new beginning, the emergence of a new Phoenix—global humanity.
The character of all cultures is based upon a set of fundamental beliefs referred to as the basal paradigm. Significant changes in societal beliefs inevitably lead to a disintegration of the prevailing culture and the emergence of a new one. Western Civilization evolved through a sequence of such cultural upheavals; transitioning from animism (aboriginal cultures such as Native Americans), to polytheism (e.g., Egyptians, Romans and Greeks), to monotheism (Judeo-Christian and Islamic cultures) and to the current culture of scientific materialism (based upon the “truths” of Modern Science). Each civilization is defined by its own unique basal paradigm.
Currently civilization is poised for another cultural upheaval. Recent revisions in science are profoundly revising four flawed “truths” upon which our culture is built. I refer to these old beliefs as the Four Myth-Perceptions of the Apocalypse, misperceptions that are contributing to the demise of our civilization.
Myth-Perception 1 – Biology is controlled by matter-based Newtonian mechanics [Revision- Biology is controlled by invisible Quantum mechanical forces]
Myth-Perception 2 – Genes control life [Revision- The new science of epigenetics reveals that environment controls genes]
Myth-Perception 3 – “Survival of the fittest” drives evolution [Revision- Cooperation drives evolution]
Myth-Perception 4 – Evolution is a Random Process [Revision- Organisms evolve to conform to environment]
When these fundamentally new scientific insights replace our currently limiting cultural myths, the ashes of our current civilization will give rise to a more magnificent version of the human Phoenix. The following brief discussion focuses upon new scientific insights that dispel the myth of genes, the limiting belief that genes control biology.
Recently, results of the Human Genome Project have shattered one of Science’s fundamental core beliefs, the concept of genetic determinism. We have been led to believe that our genes determine the character of our lives, yet new research surprisingly reveals that it is the character of our lives that controls our genes. Rather than being victims of our heredity, we are actually masters of our genome.
The new science of epigenetics illuminates how our mind (perceptions, attitudes and emotions) shapes biology and behavior. Throughout infancy, our primary perceptions of life were programmed with cultural beliefs. Since perceptions shape behavior and gene activity, cultural beliefs become biology. For example, are we violent because we are genetically disposed to being violent? Or, are we violent because we believe we are genetically disposed to being violent? The new science reveals either cause could be right.
Cell biology is important because the human body is actually a community of upwards to fifty trillion cells. The physical and behavioral traits of cells are derived from over 150,000 different protein building blocks whose structures are programmed in our genes. One of biology’s most hallowed beliefs, codified as the Central Dogma, stipulates that information in biology flows in only one direction: from DNA to RNA to protein. Consequently, the Central Dogma provides for the notion of genetic determinism, the belief that genes “control” the character of life. Textbooks and mass media are still informing the public that genes control their lives, regardless of the fact that most biologists are now aware that this simplified assumption is not valid.
Between the 1970’s and 80’s, as a tenured faculty member of the University of Wisconsin’s School of Medicine, I was dutifully programming the Central Dogma into the malleable minds of my medical students. However, my university work was primarily concerned with research on muscular dystrophy employing cultures of cloned stem cells. Cloned cells are created by inoculating a single stem cell into a culture dish and allowing it to divide many times, producing thousands of genetically identical cells.
To my surprise, I found that by changing some of the components in my tissue culture dishes or by changing the composition of the incubator’s atmospheric gases, I could profoundly alter the fate of my cultured cells. For example, I would split my stem cell culture into three tissue culture dishes, each exposed to different environmental condition. In one dish the cells formed muscle, in another they formed bone and the remaining dish the cells formed fat (adipose). Since my culture were seeded with genetically identical stem cells, it was clear that the differentiated fate of the cell was under the control of the culture environment and NOT the genes.
My peers considered my studies “heretical” since they challenged the Dogma of gene control. Heresies, dogmas…my first realization that modern science was somewhat of a religion! These studies, demonstrating that cells were not “controlled” by genes, emphasized the power of nurture over nature in influencing our lives.
Though research has established that genes don’t control life, textbooks and mass media still refer to the gene-containing nucleus as the cell’s brain, fostering the outdated belief that genes control biology. Twenty years ago, I had recognized that the nucleus was not the brain, it was functionally equivalent to the cell’s gonads, strictly involved with cell reproduction. Additionally, experiments in which the cell’s nucleus is removed, showed that cells can live and express complex behaviors for two or more months without having any genes.
Spurred on by challenges from disbelieving peers, I refocused my research to identify the mechanisms by which environmental information controlled behavior and genetics. Eventually my quest revealed the cell’s “skin” (the cell membrane) was responsible for reading and responding to environmental conditions. “Switches” in the membrane were comprised of protein receptors, the cell’s equivalents of eyes, ears and nose, that read environmental signals, and protein effectors that activated cell functions or the reading of genes. Membrane “switches” enable cells to dynamically adapt their genes and behavior to conform to environmental demands.
Membrane “switches” are molecular units of perception used in regulating the cell’s biology. The membrane, more accurately, the “mem-Brain,” represents the cell’s equivalent of a brain. Understanding membrane structure and function would be key to understanding the nature of life. In 1985, I was reviewing the molecular architecture and behavior of the cell membrane as an environmental information processor. In outline form, I jotted down a series of descriptive phrases using terms I’d hadn’t used before. I sat back and reviewed what I had just written: “The cell membrane is a liquid crystal, semiconductor with gates and channels.”
As a cellular biologist, I’d never used these particular phrases, yet they sounded very familiar. Where had I heard them? On the corner of my desk, I noticed my first computer, a smiley-faced Macintosh, and next to it a book I had been reading entitled Understanding Your Microprocessor. On page three in the book’s Introduction, was the definition of a computer chip, “…a crystal semiconductor with gates and channels.”
I froze. The next sequence of thoughts happened probably in milliseconds—but to me, it seemed like hours. First I thought, “What a coincidence…the cell membrane and a computer chip share the same definition!” Then a few more hour-long milliseconds lapsed and it hit me, “This was not a simple coincidence! The molecular architecture and behavior of a computer chip is essentially identical to a cell membrane!” The membrane is not analogous to a chip; the membrane is homologous to a chip. Meaning, the membrane is not “like a chip,” the membrane IS a chip.
The cell membrane is a carbon-based, molecular equivalent of a silicon-based computer chip. Every cell is a programmable chip, with a hard drive (the nucleus) containing software (genes). As with conventional silicon based computers, cellular data is entered via a keyboard—comprised of thousands of different membrane protein receptors keyed to different environmental signals. Ambient environmental signals are converted into cell behavior by the membrane’s effector proteins.
Around ten years ago, the new science of epigenetics evolved to describe the molecular mechanisms by which environmental signals dynamically control the activity of genes. Most importantly, epigenetic mechanisms can generate over 30,000 different protein variations from each gene blueprint. In contrast to the belief that genes are hardwired programs, epigenetics reveal that gene programs are rewriteable enabling cells to adapt to dynamic environments.
Epigenetic science demonstrates that the cell’s nucleus is a read-write hard disk, wherein gene software is programmed by the membrane’s response to environmental perceptions.
Since cells respond to environment al cues, why are we not human “clones” since we are exposed to the same environment? The answer, no two people are biologically the same; your body would reject a tissue or organ graft from anyone else by recognizing the foreign cells as not being self. Likewise, your cells would be rejected by any other recipient for the same reason.
Where is an individual’s identity to be found? The cells in each body have a unique set of membrane proteins on their outer surface. Medicine identifies a subset of the these receptors as self-receptors, literally, “receivers of self.” When self-receptors are removed from a cell it becomes a generic cell, transplantable into anyone without being rejected. Transferring one person’s set of self-receptors on to another’s cell would also transfer “ownership” of that cell.
Where does our identity come from? Apparently, it is a unique “signal” from the field read by our self-receptors. Importantly, this communication is a two-way street; signals are not just coming into the cells, since our experiential awareness is sent back out to the field and changes the source! The invisible moving forces described by quantum biophysics that activate the self-receptors are the same invisible moving forces acknowledged as spirit.
Interestingly, the signals defining self are still in the environment even if the cells die and are not here to read them. Even more interesting, a new child could come into being displaying an “old” set of self-receptors—the “old” soul would be back on air…reincarnation!
For a guy who didn’t believe in spirituality, understanding the nature of the membrane rocked my world It was a transformational moment for me to discover that I am NOT a biochemical robot, but a spiritually controlled community of programmable cells who is now collaborating with other cell “communities” to create the new human Phoenix.
For more information on this and other topics, visit: www.brucelipton.com
Author reserves first rights
Bruce H. Lipton, Ph.D., bestselling author of The Biology of Belief, is a cellular biologist and former Associate Professor at the University of Wisconsin’s School of Medicine.† His pioneering research on cloned stem cells at Wisconsin presaged the revolutionary field of epigenetics, the new science of how environment and perception control genes. His later research at Stanford University’s School of Medicine revealed the nature of the biochemical pathways that bridge the mind-body duality. His book, The Biology of Belief: Unleashing the Power of Consciousness Matter and Miracles, an LA Times Bestseller won Best Science Book of the Year by USA Book News in 2006.† He has been a guest speaker on numerous radio and television programs, and a sought after keynote presenter for national organizations. (www.brucelipton.com)
Bruce H. Lipton, PhD © 2007
This artcle is featured in Mystic Pop’s Nov/Dec issue: Mystic Pop
It is obvious, even to the most Prozaced-out individual, that today’s global crises impacting the environment, health, economics and social stability are threatening the survival of human civilization. Suddenly, the old cartoon of some bearded weirdo carrying a placard reading, “The World is Ending!” doesn’t seem that funny. Media and government continuously focus our attention on the darkness of impending crises, however, recent advances in physics and biology offer a significantly different and amazingly hopeful alternative for these very same symptoms.
New scientific insights suggest the evolution of human civilization resembles the recurring fate of the Phoenix, a sacred firebird revered in ancient Egyptian mythology. At the end of its lifecycle the Phoenix builds a nest of cinnamon twigs that it then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes. From the ashes arises a new and greater Phoenix.
A renaissance in scientific awareness is rewriting our fundamental perceptions about life and evolution. Weaving together the elements of the new physics (quantum mechanics), the new biology (epigenetics) and the new math (fractal geometry) reveal that today’s crises are not signifying an end to civilization, rather they are portents of an astounding new beginning, the emergence of a new Phoenix—global humanity.
The character of all cultures is based upon a set of fundamental beliefs referred to as the basal paradigm. Significant changes in societal beliefs inevitably lead to a disintegration of the prevailing culture and the emergence of a new one. Western Civilization evolved through a sequence of such cultural upheavals; transitioning from animism (aboriginal cultures such as Native Americans), to polytheism (e.g., Egyptians, Romans and Greeks), to monotheism (Judeo-Christian and Islamic cultures) and to the current culture of scientific materialism (based upon the “truths” of Modern Science). Each civilization is defined by its own unique basal paradigm.
Currently civilization is poised for another cultural upheaval. Recent revisions in science are profoundly revising four flawed “truths” upon which our culture is built. I refer to these old beliefs as the Four Myth-Perceptions of the Apocalypse, misperceptions that are contributing to the demise of our civilization.
Myth-Perception 1 – Biology is controlled by matter-based Newtonian mechanics [Revision- Biology is controlled by invisible Quantum mechanical forces]
Myth-Perception 2 – Genes control life [Revision- The new science of epigenetics reveals that environment controls genes]
Myth-Perception 3 – “Survival of the fittest” drives evolution [Revision- Cooperation drives evolution]
Myth-Perception 4 – Evolution is a Random Process [Revision- Organisms evolve to conform to environment]
When these fundamentally new scientific insights replace our currently limiting cultural myths, the ashes of our current civilization will give rise to a more magnificent version of the human Phoenix. The following brief discussion focuses upon new scientific insights that dispel the myth of genes, the limiting belief that genes control biology.
Recently, results of the Human Genome Project have shattered one of Science’s fundamental core beliefs, the concept of genetic determinism. We have been led to believe that our genes determine the character of our lives, yet new research surprisingly reveals that it is the character of our lives that controls our genes. Rather than being victims of our heredity, we are actually masters of our genome.
The new science of epigenetics illuminates how our mind (perceptions, attitudes and emotions) shapes biology and behavior. Throughout infancy, our primary perceptions of life were programmed with cultural beliefs. Since perceptions shape behavior and gene activity, cultural beliefs become biology. For example, are we violent because we are genetically disposed to being violent? Or, are we violent because we believe we are genetically disposed to being violent? The new science reveals either cause could be right.
Cell biology is important because the human body is actually a community of upwards to fifty trillion cells. The physical and behavioral traits of cells are derived from over 150,000 different protein building blocks whose structures are programmed in our genes. One of biology’s most hallowed beliefs, codified as the Central Dogma, stipulates that information in biology flows in only one direction: from DNA to RNA to protein. Consequently, the Central Dogma provides for the notion of genetic determinism, the belief that genes “control” the character of life. Textbooks and mass media are still informing the public that genes control their lives, regardless of the fact that most biologists are now aware that this simplified assumption is not valid.
Between the 1970’s and 80’s, as a tenured faculty member of the University of Wisconsin’s School of Medicine, I was dutifully programming the Central Dogma into the malleable minds of my medical students. However, my university work was primarily concerned with research on muscular dystrophy employing cultures of cloned stem cells. Cloned cells are created by inoculating a single stem cell into a culture dish and allowing it to divide many times, producing thousands of genetically identical cells.
To my surprise, I found that by changing some of the components in my tissue culture dishes or by changing the composition of the incubator’s atmospheric gases, I could profoundly alter the fate of my cultured cells. For example, I would split my stem cell culture into three tissue culture dishes, each exposed to different environmental condition. In one dish the cells formed muscle, in another they formed bone and the remaining dish the cells formed fat (adipose). Since my culture were seeded with genetically identical stem cells, it was clear that the differentiated fate of the cell was under the control of the culture environment and NOT the genes.
My peers considered my studies “heretical” since they challenged the Dogma of gene control. Heresies, dogmas…my first realization that modern science was somewhat of a religion! These studies, demonstrating that cells were not “controlled” by genes, emphasized the power of nurture over nature in influencing our lives.
Though research has established that genes don’t control life, textbooks and mass media still refer to the gene-containing nucleus as the cell’s brain, fostering the outdated belief that genes control biology. Twenty years ago, I had recognized that the nucleus was not the brain, it was functionally equivalent to the cell’s gonads, strictly involved with cell reproduction. Additionally, experiments in which the cell’s nucleus is removed, showed that cells can live and express complex behaviors for two or more months without having any genes.
Spurred on by challenges from disbelieving peers, I refocused my research to identify the mechanisms by which environmental information controlled behavior and genetics. Eventually my quest revealed the cell’s “skin” (the cell membrane) was responsible for reading and responding to environmental conditions. “Switches” in the membrane were comprised of protein receptors, the cell’s equivalents of eyes, ears and nose, that read environmental signals, and protein effectors that activated cell functions or the reading of genes. Membrane “switches” enable cells to dynamically adapt their genes and behavior to conform to environmental demands.
Membrane “switches” are molecular units of perception used in regulating the cell’s biology. The membrane, more accurately, the “mem-Brain,” represents the cell’s equivalent of a brain. Understanding membrane structure and function would be key to understanding the nature of life. In 1985, I was reviewing the molecular architecture and behavior of the cell membrane as an environmental information processor. In outline form, I jotted down a series of descriptive phrases using terms I’d hadn’t used before. I sat back and reviewed what I had just written: “The cell membrane is a liquid crystal, semiconductor with gates and channels.”
As a cellular biologist, I’d never used these particular phrases, yet they sounded very familiar. Where had I heard them? On the corner of my desk, I noticed my first computer, a smiley-faced Macintosh, and next to it a book I had been reading entitled Understanding Your Microprocessor. On page three in the book’s Introduction, was the definition of a computer chip, “…a crystal semiconductor with gates and channels.”
I froze. The next sequence of thoughts happened probably in milliseconds—but to me, it seemed like hours. First I thought, “What a coincidence…the cell membrane and a computer chip share the same definition!” Then a few more hour-long milliseconds lapsed and it hit me, “This was not a simple coincidence! The molecular architecture and behavior of a computer chip is essentially identical to a cell membrane!” The membrane is not analogous to a chip; the membrane is homologous to a chip. Meaning, the membrane is not “like a chip,” the membrane IS a chip.
The cell membrane is a carbon-based, molecular equivalent of a silicon-based computer chip. Every cell is a programmable chip, with a hard drive (the nucleus) containing software (genes). As with conventional silicon based computers, cellular data is entered via a keyboard—comprised of thousands of different membrane protein receptors keyed to different environmental signals. Ambient environmental signals are converted into cell behavior by the membrane’s effector proteins.
Around ten years ago, the new science of epigenetics evolved to describe the molecular mechanisms by which environmental signals dynamically control the activity of genes. Most importantly, epigenetic mechanisms can generate over 30,000 different protein variations from each gene blueprint. In contrast to the belief that genes are hardwired programs, epigenetics reveal that gene programs are rewriteable enabling cells to adapt to dynamic environments.
Epigenetic science demonstrates that the cell’s nucleus is a read-write hard disk, wherein gene software is programmed by the membrane’s response to environmental perceptions.
Since cells respond to environment al cues, why are we not human “clones” since we are exposed to the same environment? The answer, no two people are biologically the same; your body would reject a tissue or organ graft from anyone else by recognizing the foreign cells as not being self. Likewise, your cells would be rejected by any other recipient for the same reason.
Where is an individual’s identity to be found? The cells in each body have a unique set of membrane proteins on their outer surface. Medicine identifies a subset of the these receptors as self-receptors, literally, “receivers of self.” When self-receptors are removed from a cell it becomes a generic cell, transplantable into anyone without being rejected. Transferring one person’s set of self-receptors on to another’s cell would also transfer “ownership” of that cell.
Where does our identity come from? Apparently, it is a unique “signal” from the field read by our self-receptors. Importantly, this communication is a two-way street; signals are not just coming into the cells, since our experiential awareness is sent back out to the field and changes the source! The invisible moving forces described by quantum biophysics that activate the self-receptors are the same invisible moving forces acknowledged as spirit.
Interestingly, the signals defining self are still in the environment even if the cells die and are not here to read them. Even more interesting, a new child could come into being displaying an “old” set of self-receptors—the “old” soul would be back on air…reincarnation!
For a guy who didn’t believe in spirituality, understanding the nature of the membrane rocked my world It was a transformational moment for me to discover that I am NOT a biochemical robot, but a spiritually controlled community of programmable cells who is now collaborating with other cell “communities” to create the new human Phoenix.
For more information on this and other topics, visit: www.brucelipton.com
Author reserves first rights
Bruce H. Lipton, Ph.D., bestselling author of The Biology of Belief, is a cellular biologist and former Associate Professor at the University of Wisconsin’s School of Medicine.† His pioneering research on cloned stem cells at Wisconsin presaged the revolutionary field of epigenetics, the new science of how environment and perception control genes. His later research at Stanford University’s School of Medicine revealed the nature of the biochemical pathways that bridge the mind-body duality. His book, The Biology of Belief: Unleashing the Power of Consciousness Matter and Miracles, an LA Times Bestseller won Best Science Book of the Year by USA Book News in 2006.† He has been a guest speaker on numerous radio and television programs, and a sought after keynote presenter for national organizations. (www.brucelipton.com)
Friday, November 16, 2007
Hard times never kill
Those of you who know what a ‘Ndebele’ bicycle looks like will identify with this. It is a statement in art and finesse, a bike that is elaborately decorated and endowed with some of the creature comforts found in a car, such as a radio, rear view mirrors and a horn among other things such as the mandatory ‘itshoba’ (made from the tail of some poor creature) and a plethora of reflective disks and other paraphernalia. Only a photograph of this contraption would do justice to ant fitting description.
One such work of art belonged to Siziba of Manxeleni who used to work for a clothing company in Donnington Industrial Sites. Every morning on his way to work, he would jump on his machine, a 3 speed Humber, and race the ZUPCO buses to work. It was such a spectacle, with Siziba, a Dobbs hat firmly perched on his head riding as if there was no tomorrow to the cat whistles of passengers and pedestrians alike.
Once every three months, Siziba would make the Great Trek to Manxeleni about 40 kilometres away using, you guessed it, his bike. I am sure that the bicycle was his prized possession, more like a car to him and the community there must have been equally proud. You see, those were the days when all we blacks could afford in terms of transportation was a bicycle.
What caught my attention then was a sign that he fixed to the mudguard of his ‘mtshina.’ It read, ‘Hard times never kill.’ I am not sure whether he understood the meaning of those words, but I can tell you this, I never realised the currency of that expression until now. In present day Zimbabwe we might have hit rocked bottom and started to dig, yet somehow we survive. Hard times never kill, now I know.
Environmental disaster
Water, now that is a very scarce resource in Bulawayo nowadays. There is no need for us to overemphasise its importance in our day to day lives. We require water for drinking, cooking, doing the laundry and of course, bathing. However, due to the shortage, people have decided to forgo one or the other of the important functions.
Some of us have stopped bathing. Now this suspension of a very hygienic activity is presenting a lot of problems in terms of socialisation. Let me go back into history to fix my bearings. When we were at boarding school all those years ago when dinosaurs used to roam the earth, bathing was optional particularly during winter.
It was the rule rather that the exception that people would be followed by an incredible pong, the combination of sweaty armpits, smelly socks and other unmentionable parts of the human anatomy. We used to wear it (the smell) like a flag. Imagine having to teach a collection of all the tropical odours one can imagine. And for some reason we always forgot to open the windows!
Admittedly, some of the pupils would reek worse than a skunk in heat. The stench would assault the nasal orifice with wave upon wave of a cacophony of smells, particularly from the socks, that one was convinced their feet were actually breathing! Fittingly, we labelled such a smell ‘umsindo’ (noise). The socks would eventually harden like concrete to the extent that if you were to take them off and place them on the desk, they would stand on their own accord.
Fast-forward a couple of a hundred years and we are in a waterless Bulawayo, faced with a potentially devastating noxious pollution of Bhopalic proportions (after the Bhopal Disaster). It’s an environmental disaster in the making so critical that it should be added to the Tokyo Protocol on toxic emissions that would sure threaten the ozone layer.
If you think I am dreaming, then ride in a kombi (commuter omnibus). I had such an experience the other day when someone between here and there, a nicely dressed gentleman got into the vehicle and immediately everyone was gasping for fresh air. We tried cracking the windows open but it was in vain. The offending party, for his part, saw nothing wrong with the discomfort of which he was clearly the source.
Finally, a lady, summoned all her courage and pointed this fact to the gentleman, to which he calmly replied: “Madam, when you broke wind I did not say a thing, but because I have had water for five whole days, which in itself is a violation of my human rights, you complain!”
That shut her and the rest of us up for the rest of the tortuous journey.
Tales from Queuetopia
The governments announced that it will start to crack down on professional ‘queuers’ whom it blamed for the proliferation of the black market in scarce grocery items. Well. We managed to interview some of these economic saboteurs and they were happy to share their experience with us seeing that queues (Q's) are now a way of life. Here are survival tips about queuing:
1. Be friendly. Greet the person at the end of the Q. Resist the urge to immediately ask what the Q is for. Catch your breath first. Then say, "So bathi itshukela yangakhona izabuya sikhathi bani?" (So, when are they saying that the sugar will be delivered?) This is called fishing. They will look at you and give you two answers to your one question. "Le yi-Q yesinkwa. Kuthiwa ngo 10 o'clock". Then you decide whether to stay in the queue for bread or maybe you do not have the three hours to wait.
2. Do not drink a lot of water before joining a Q. You will lose your place when you leave temporarily to empty your blotted bladder. Often chaos reigns when you try to reclaim your position and the Q has to be reordered usually with brute force by Omantshingelane (Security Guards). I suggest you eat a few bananas (these are abundant at $20 000 each) instead. That way there is no urge to 'go' for either number 1 or number 2.
3. Never discuss politics. This is a 'No, No!’ The people in the Q are strangers and you dare not divulge which side of the political divide you belong. Talk in general terms about 'Uhulumende wethu' and never, never name names for any reason. Talk about the coming rains, the harsh winter, etc. If you have nothing to say, just shut up. Five hours is a long time to wait so I suggest practising silence at home.
4. Beware of toxic emissions (bad breath) from the guy behind you. Toothpaste and expensive mouthwashes are not on the 'essentials’ list. They are low priority when it comes to fending for a hungry family. People no longer use toothpaste when they brush their teeth or rinse out their mouths! The guy in front is not such a threat. Make sure that your head is angled sideways and down so as not to be in the line of fire of any of the halitosis.
5. If you'd rather not talk, clutch your jaw to indicate a tooth ache or sore gums or mouth sores or sore throat!
6. If the person in front of you is a lady, it is good for your health to leave a discreet gap between the two of you. And do not get too animated in your conversation with her. Her husband might not be the least jealous person in the world. Show respect and, depending on her age, address her as "ambuya". If not one of several things could happen:-
a. She will look at you accusingly and speak loud enough for all to hear that you are rubbing your whatchamacallit against her behind. That could be a death sentence with any angry Zimbo crowd.
b. The husband could be a few places behind you in the queue and would not be too happy to see you borrowing some warmth from his wife.
c. Before you know it, you will be walking away from the place with your 2 kg sugar plus a ‘small house.’ Some of our sisters can get really desperate if you know what I mean.
7. No need to push and shove. This will not reduce the waiting time. You will only manage to annoy the person in front of you and create chaos.
8. If you are a student, carry a voluminous literature text book. This is OK as it also discourages people from starting pointless conversations with you. Tell them, "Ngenzu JC Form 4 lonyaka ende angilasikhathi sokudlalisa futhi." (I am sitting for my exams this year and I don’t have time to waste.)
9. Always approach the queue from the rear, not midways or front or else all those bored individuals will suddenly find in you a moving object upon which to exercise their optic nerves.
10. Walk away briskly and with purpose once you get what you queued for or else you might become the latest statistic in the police file marked, ‘Muggings.’
One such work of art belonged to Siziba of Manxeleni who used to work for a clothing company in Donnington Industrial Sites. Every morning on his way to work, he would jump on his machine, a 3 speed Humber, and race the ZUPCO buses to work. It was such a spectacle, with Siziba, a Dobbs hat firmly perched on his head riding as if there was no tomorrow to the cat whistles of passengers and pedestrians alike.
Once every three months, Siziba would make the Great Trek to Manxeleni about 40 kilometres away using, you guessed it, his bike. I am sure that the bicycle was his prized possession, more like a car to him and the community there must have been equally proud. You see, those were the days when all we blacks could afford in terms of transportation was a bicycle.
What caught my attention then was a sign that he fixed to the mudguard of his ‘mtshina.’ It read, ‘Hard times never kill.’ I am not sure whether he understood the meaning of those words, but I can tell you this, I never realised the currency of that expression until now. In present day Zimbabwe we might have hit rocked bottom and started to dig, yet somehow we survive. Hard times never kill, now I know.
Environmental disaster
Water, now that is a very scarce resource in Bulawayo nowadays. There is no need for us to overemphasise its importance in our day to day lives. We require water for drinking, cooking, doing the laundry and of course, bathing. However, due to the shortage, people have decided to forgo one or the other of the important functions.
Some of us have stopped bathing. Now this suspension of a very hygienic activity is presenting a lot of problems in terms of socialisation. Let me go back into history to fix my bearings. When we were at boarding school all those years ago when dinosaurs used to roam the earth, bathing was optional particularly during winter.
It was the rule rather that the exception that people would be followed by an incredible pong, the combination of sweaty armpits, smelly socks and other unmentionable parts of the human anatomy. We used to wear it (the smell) like a flag. Imagine having to teach a collection of all the tropical odours one can imagine. And for some reason we always forgot to open the windows!
Admittedly, some of the pupils would reek worse than a skunk in heat. The stench would assault the nasal orifice with wave upon wave of a cacophony of smells, particularly from the socks, that one was convinced their feet were actually breathing! Fittingly, we labelled such a smell ‘umsindo’ (noise). The socks would eventually harden like concrete to the extent that if you were to take them off and place them on the desk, they would stand on their own accord.
Fast-forward a couple of a hundred years and we are in a waterless Bulawayo, faced with a potentially devastating noxious pollution of Bhopalic proportions (after the Bhopal Disaster). It’s an environmental disaster in the making so critical that it should be added to the Tokyo Protocol on toxic emissions that would sure threaten the ozone layer.
If you think I am dreaming, then ride in a kombi (commuter omnibus). I had such an experience the other day when someone between here and there, a nicely dressed gentleman got into the vehicle and immediately everyone was gasping for fresh air. We tried cracking the windows open but it was in vain. The offending party, for his part, saw nothing wrong with the discomfort of which he was clearly the source.
Finally, a lady, summoned all her courage and pointed this fact to the gentleman, to which he calmly replied: “Madam, when you broke wind I did not say a thing, but because I have had water for five whole days, which in itself is a violation of my human rights, you complain!”
That shut her and the rest of us up for the rest of the tortuous journey.
Tales from Queuetopia
The governments announced that it will start to crack down on professional ‘queuers’ whom it blamed for the proliferation of the black market in scarce grocery items. Well. We managed to interview some of these economic saboteurs and they were happy to share their experience with us seeing that queues (Q's) are now a way of life. Here are survival tips about queuing:
1. Be friendly. Greet the person at the end of the Q. Resist the urge to immediately ask what the Q is for. Catch your breath first. Then say, "So bathi itshukela yangakhona izabuya sikhathi bani?" (So, when are they saying that the sugar will be delivered?) This is called fishing. They will look at you and give you two answers to your one question. "Le yi-Q yesinkwa. Kuthiwa ngo 10 o'clock". Then you decide whether to stay in the queue for bread or maybe you do not have the three hours to wait.
2. Do not drink a lot of water before joining a Q. You will lose your place when you leave temporarily to empty your blotted bladder. Often chaos reigns when you try to reclaim your position and the Q has to be reordered usually with brute force by Omantshingelane (Security Guards). I suggest you eat a few bananas (these are abundant at $20 000 each) instead. That way there is no urge to 'go' for either number 1 or number 2.
3. Never discuss politics. This is a 'No, No!’ The people in the Q are strangers and you dare not divulge which side of the political divide you belong. Talk in general terms about 'Uhulumende wethu' and never, never name names for any reason. Talk about the coming rains, the harsh winter, etc. If you have nothing to say, just shut up. Five hours is a long time to wait so I suggest practising silence at home.
4. Beware of toxic emissions (bad breath) from the guy behind you. Toothpaste and expensive mouthwashes are not on the 'essentials’ list. They are low priority when it comes to fending for a hungry family. People no longer use toothpaste when they brush their teeth or rinse out their mouths! The guy in front is not such a threat. Make sure that your head is angled sideways and down so as not to be in the line of fire of any of the halitosis.
5. If you'd rather not talk, clutch your jaw to indicate a tooth ache or sore gums or mouth sores or sore throat!
6. If the person in front of you is a lady, it is good for your health to leave a discreet gap between the two of you. And do not get too animated in your conversation with her. Her husband might not be the least jealous person in the world. Show respect and, depending on her age, address her as "ambuya". If not one of several things could happen:-
a. She will look at you accusingly and speak loud enough for all to hear that you are rubbing your whatchamacallit against her behind. That could be a death sentence with any angry Zimbo crowd.
b. The husband could be a few places behind you in the queue and would not be too happy to see you borrowing some warmth from his wife.
c. Before you know it, you will be walking away from the place with your 2 kg sugar plus a ‘small house.’ Some of our sisters can get really desperate if you know what I mean.
7. No need to push and shove. This will not reduce the waiting time. You will only manage to annoy the person in front of you and create chaos.
8. If you are a student, carry a voluminous literature text book. This is OK as it also discourages people from starting pointless conversations with you. Tell them, "Ngenzu JC Form 4 lonyaka ende angilasikhathi sokudlalisa futhi." (I am sitting for my exams this year and I don’t have time to waste.)
9. Always approach the queue from the rear, not midways or front or else all those bored individuals will suddenly find in you a moving object upon which to exercise their optic nerves.
10. Walk away briskly and with purpose once you get what you queued for or else you might become the latest statistic in the police file marked, ‘Muggings.’
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Who woke up the Rabbit?
The question has been posed more than once as to why this column is called ‘Breaking the Wind.’ That it sounds a bit ‘anal’ as one reader put it bluntly, I would be the first to admit that indeed it does. We all know what to ‘break wind’ is about, don’t we? For those with a nervous disposition, breaking wind is the rapid evacuation of gases from the lower intestine under extreme pressure.
It so happened that one sunny afternoon I was standing at a street corner with a friend. We had just had amawoso (braai/barberque) with the usual ‘salad’ of onions, tomatoes and cucumber, koMpofu in Luveve 5. Suddenly, a revolting smell wafted around us. I turned to him and asked, "Did you just let out some, eh, very bad wind just now?" To which he bluntly responded, "Of course I did, you don't think I smell like this all the time do you?"
I was stunned. The norm is that someone who is accused of ‘waking up the rabbit’ as we say in SiNdebele vehemently denies having done so. Then it dawned on me that breaking wind can happen to any one at any time and there is no cause for embarrassment. So the term ‘Breaking Wind’ came up. The editor merely refined it to ‘Breaking the Wind’, that is, the act of expelling a lot of hot air through this column.
For your own information, Jim Dawson actually wrote a book, "Who Cut the Cheese, A Cultural History of the Fart." Imagine, someone sitting down to write all 200 pages about shooting gas? The world and its crazy inhabitants never cease to amaze. The term ‘to cut the cheese’, we are told, originated when someone sliced into a new wheel of cheese, but the most likely a brick of Limburger cheese, which stinks terribly despite it being fresh. We have more colourful terms describing it though.
The average adult, writes a serious Dawson, breaks wind between 6 - 20 times a day. I can tell you that the average male breaks wind a lot more if you ask me. It’s a combination of gases like nitrogen, carbon dioxide, oxygen, methane and hydrogen sulfide. Which explains why the ozone layer is disappearing so fast.
The mind boggles when you imagine how all this data was collected. Did people actually volunteer for a study with samples being analysed in a lab? What a challenging vocation sniffing out the facts on flatulence must be. What about the qualification, a degree in Fartology perhaps?
Talking of sniffing, have you ever noticed how the smell is inversely proportional to the noise? The silent ones are deadly enough to be classified under BWMD – Biological Weapons of Mass Destruction. These are known in some circles as SBDs – Silent But Deadlies. The loud ones are usually just a lot of hot air!
And ever notice that when you are tempted to let a silent one slip it usually breaks the sound barrier and how embarrassing that can be when the Miss Zimbabwe of your dreams is in the vicinity? Never trust the nether end for discipline at such critical moments.
It reminds one of an incident that occurred to this colleague of mine. After having bravely prevented ‘you know what’ from making a loud and humiliating exit in a bus for what seemed like hours, he arrived to what he thought was an empty house. He then eagerly unlocked the door and let it rip with a thunderous roar. Obviously relieved, he turned round to face his shocked in-laws who were by now gasping for breath!
As far as bodily functions go, farting is as common as sneezing, yawning, coughing and peeing. It often happens simultaneously with these. How many times do people either sneeze and pfoof or cough and pfoof or pee and pfoof at the same time?
When that happens you just want to disappear into the bowels of the earth. It is my contention that the status of breaking wind should be elevated so that you don't have to feel like that. Since I don't see that happening in the short term, may I offer some gilt-edged advice on how to save face should you happen to accidentally let off, pop off, cut the cheese, fluff, pfoof, and wake up the rabbit or whatever euphemism you use to describe it.
You can look around as if trying to figure out who the rotten it was who had sugar beans and hot peppers for dinner. It could be anyone including the guy in an expensive Armani suit for breaking wind breaks all social bounderies.
Or you could brazen it out; acting as if it never happened even though it's still ricocheting around the room defying Graham’s Law of diffusion.
How about shocking everyone by laughing and saying, "Hell wasn't that a ripper, my mum would be proud." I am sure one or two will get the joke though I doubt it if your mother would.
When you accidentally let it loose inside the bed, fluff the sheets to disperse the smell. If find your partner fluffing the sheets tonight, beat a hasty retreat, at least until the pong has dissipated.
For those SBDs, move quickly into the next aisle of the supermarket or library leaving a trail of pollution in your wake. They are likely to lay the blame on something and not someone.
In a lift, get out on the next floor leaving the other lift dwellers to suffer. Dogs make very useful accessories. 'Danger, suka lapha nja! (Get the F out of here, filthy dog)' If animals aren't close at hand, babies are also great scapegoats where you can lovingly 'Oh Themba did you poo in your nappy again?' knowing fully well that Little Themba cannot point you out in a parade.
Beware. Sometimes displacing the blame can backfire as it did to a very rich and respected woman. She held a tea party for her wealthy and influential friends and ate more cucumber sandwiches than was good for her. During one of those deadly silences that happen in even the best of parties, a colossal breaking of wind came from the hostess's direction. Never one to be easily embarrassed she quickly said to her butler, "James stop that immediately!" The butler turned slowly and replied in his most superior voice, "Certainly madam, which way did it go?"
So when the editor asked me for a title for this column I was well and truly stumped. My previous columns have had their fair share of stupid titles. So it should not surprise you at all if I told you that my first column was aptly named - don’t laugh - ‘When the cow dung hits the fan.’ It promptly led to my being shipped to Siberia, but that’s another story.
If anyone tells you that they don't release any gases, they are either lying or they're aliens from Mars or else you better get the hell out of there for they are about to explode.
A word of caution: do not attempt to ignite a fart, its highly flammable! By the way, it’s the hydrogen sulphide that produces the deadly funk, so watch out!
Note: This article appeared in the New.Zimbabwe.com column Breaking the Wind which appears every Friday on www.newzimbabwe.com by the same writer.
It so happened that one sunny afternoon I was standing at a street corner with a friend. We had just had amawoso (braai/barberque) with the usual ‘salad’ of onions, tomatoes and cucumber, koMpofu in Luveve 5. Suddenly, a revolting smell wafted around us. I turned to him and asked, "Did you just let out some, eh, very bad wind just now?" To which he bluntly responded, "Of course I did, you don't think I smell like this all the time do you?"
I was stunned. The norm is that someone who is accused of ‘waking up the rabbit’ as we say in SiNdebele vehemently denies having done so. Then it dawned on me that breaking wind can happen to any one at any time and there is no cause for embarrassment. So the term ‘Breaking Wind’ came up. The editor merely refined it to ‘Breaking the Wind’, that is, the act of expelling a lot of hot air through this column.
For your own information, Jim Dawson actually wrote a book, "Who Cut the Cheese, A Cultural History of the Fart." Imagine, someone sitting down to write all 200 pages about shooting gas? The world and its crazy inhabitants never cease to amaze. The term ‘to cut the cheese’, we are told, originated when someone sliced into a new wheel of cheese, but the most likely a brick of Limburger cheese, which stinks terribly despite it being fresh. We have more colourful terms describing it though.
The average adult, writes a serious Dawson, breaks wind between 6 - 20 times a day. I can tell you that the average male breaks wind a lot more if you ask me. It’s a combination of gases like nitrogen, carbon dioxide, oxygen, methane and hydrogen sulfide. Which explains why the ozone layer is disappearing so fast.
The mind boggles when you imagine how all this data was collected. Did people actually volunteer for a study with samples being analysed in a lab? What a challenging vocation sniffing out the facts on flatulence must be. What about the qualification, a degree in Fartology perhaps?
Talking of sniffing, have you ever noticed how the smell is inversely proportional to the noise? The silent ones are deadly enough to be classified under BWMD – Biological Weapons of Mass Destruction. These are known in some circles as SBDs – Silent But Deadlies. The loud ones are usually just a lot of hot air!
And ever notice that when you are tempted to let a silent one slip it usually breaks the sound barrier and how embarrassing that can be when the Miss Zimbabwe of your dreams is in the vicinity? Never trust the nether end for discipline at such critical moments.
It reminds one of an incident that occurred to this colleague of mine. After having bravely prevented ‘you know what’ from making a loud and humiliating exit in a bus for what seemed like hours, he arrived to what he thought was an empty house. He then eagerly unlocked the door and let it rip with a thunderous roar. Obviously relieved, he turned round to face his shocked in-laws who were by now gasping for breath!
As far as bodily functions go, farting is as common as sneezing, yawning, coughing and peeing. It often happens simultaneously with these. How many times do people either sneeze and pfoof or cough and pfoof or pee and pfoof at the same time?
When that happens you just want to disappear into the bowels of the earth. It is my contention that the status of breaking wind should be elevated so that you don't have to feel like that. Since I don't see that happening in the short term, may I offer some gilt-edged advice on how to save face should you happen to accidentally let off, pop off, cut the cheese, fluff, pfoof, and wake up the rabbit or whatever euphemism you use to describe it.
You can look around as if trying to figure out who the rotten it was who had sugar beans and hot peppers for dinner. It could be anyone including the guy in an expensive Armani suit for breaking wind breaks all social bounderies.
Or you could brazen it out; acting as if it never happened even though it's still ricocheting around the room defying Graham’s Law of diffusion.
How about shocking everyone by laughing and saying, "Hell wasn't that a ripper, my mum would be proud." I am sure one or two will get the joke though I doubt it if your mother would.
When you accidentally let it loose inside the bed, fluff the sheets to disperse the smell. If find your partner fluffing the sheets tonight, beat a hasty retreat, at least until the pong has dissipated.
For those SBDs, move quickly into the next aisle of the supermarket or library leaving a trail of pollution in your wake. They are likely to lay the blame on something and not someone.
In a lift, get out on the next floor leaving the other lift dwellers to suffer. Dogs make very useful accessories. 'Danger, suka lapha nja! (Get the F out of here, filthy dog)' If animals aren't close at hand, babies are also great scapegoats where you can lovingly 'Oh Themba did you poo in your nappy again?' knowing fully well that Little Themba cannot point you out in a parade.
Beware. Sometimes displacing the blame can backfire as it did to a very rich and respected woman. She held a tea party for her wealthy and influential friends and ate more cucumber sandwiches than was good for her. During one of those deadly silences that happen in even the best of parties, a colossal breaking of wind came from the hostess's direction. Never one to be easily embarrassed she quickly said to her butler, "James stop that immediately!" The butler turned slowly and replied in his most superior voice, "Certainly madam, which way did it go?"
So when the editor asked me for a title for this column I was well and truly stumped. My previous columns have had their fair share of stupid titles. So it should not surprise you at all if I told you that my first column was aptly named - don’t laugh - ‘When the cow dung hits the fan.’ It promptly led to my being shipped to Siberia, but that’s another story.
If anyone tells you that they don't release any gases, they are either lying or they're aliens from Mars or else you better get the hell out of there for they are about to explode.
A word of caution: do not attempt to ignite a fart, its highly flammable! By the way, it’s the hydrogen sulphide that produces the deadly funk, so watch out!
Note: This article appeared in the New.Zimbabwe.com column Breaking the Wind which appears every Friday on www.newzimbabwe.com by the same writer.
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