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)

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.’

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.

Sikhanyiso Ndlovu is new Zim media minister

Zimbabwe President Robert Mugabe has elevated educationist Dr Sikhanyiso Duke Ndlovu to the post of Information Minister, filling the post left vacant by the death of Tichaona Jokonya last year in a reshuffle that has seen the retention of the old guard with critics dismissing it as mere window-dressing in a country wallowing in its worst economic crisis ever.

The last reshuffle was after the March 2005 parliamentary election and Mugabe usually rewards loyalists with cabinet posts.

Sikhanyiso, as he is affectionately called by fawning scribes from the state media and described as one of Mugabe's most adhering loyalists, was surprise choice ahead of Webster Shamu who was heavily tipped to land the post.

Shamu, a former broadcaster and known for his abrasive approach, is Minister of State for Policy Implementation.

The United States educated Dr Ndlovu, born on 4 May 1937, one time PF Zapu cadre and formerly the Deputy Minister of Higher and Tertiary Education is the Zanu PF deputy national the commissar and non-constituency member of parliament.

Ndlovu has his work out for him in shoring ailing state media enterprises following revelations that the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Holdings (ZBH) and New ZIANA were teetering on the verge of collapse while suffering from debilitating interference from powerful Information and Publicity Permanent Secretary George Charamba.

Charamba, a Mugabe favourite, is said to have been responsible for stalling the appointments of Lydia Mavengere and Ishmael Kadungure to the posts of Director of Radio and Television, respectively in the newly restructured ZBH. The posts have been re-advertised.

A serious dearth of funding and massive staff haemorrhage has seen frequent breakdowns and shoddy programming become the order of the day.

The government has attempted to stem the rot by gazetting new radio and television license fees that hwere frozen last week in Dr Ndlovu's first move as minister.

A radio licence would have cost Z$50,000 while those of a television and car radios Z$150,000 and $200,000 respectively, up from Z$600 for a television.

The average Zimbabwean earns an average Z$20,000 a month in a country where the Poverty Datum Line is nearly Z$524.000.

Dr Ndlovu’s background in the media is somewhat sketchy save to say that he is popular among a section of journalists who saw it fit to make him patron of the Bulawayo Press Club.

His area of expertise is distance education and runs a number of colleges under the banner of the Zimbabwe Distance Education Colleges.

An affable character that is not given to the whims of being in a cabinet position, he is sometimes is victim to bouts of naivety like linking positive media coverage to his propensity to plying journalists with alcohol.

Sikhanyiso is likely to tread softly in an area that is replete with political landmines, most of which are residual of the era of the much reviled former minister Jonathan Moyo, chief among them, the draconian Access to Information and Protection of Privacy Act (AIPPA).

Analysts say that by appointing Ndlovu, Mugabe was placing an obedient gate-keeper with the real power to make decisions that matter lying decidedly elsewhere as opposed to throwing a cat among the pigeons.

While media watchers might ordinarily expect the new minister to bridge the yawning divide between government and the independent media, Ndlovu’s softly- softly disposition disqualifies him as the right man for the job.

It is worth noting that former minister Jokonya had started to make positive moves in that direction before his death in a Harare hotel last year, however, some are less confident in that regard with Sikhanyiso Ndlovu at the helm.

It is felt that lacks the spine to carry this mission through in the face of overwhelming political pressure from ruling party big wigs intent on clipping the wings of an ever inquisitive independent media.

Zimbabwe’s private media have been reeling under a rash oppressive legislation, lawsuits, intimidation and outright attacks.

Government’s ambivalence in creating an enabling environment for the media has been seen in former Acting Information Minister Paul Mangwana who while challenging journalists to speed up the formation of a self-regulatory council, defended AIPPA saying it was necessary to ensure order in the media industry.

Mangwana and Parliamentary Portfolio Committee on Transport and Communication chairman, Leo Mugabe, went on to pour cold water on the still-born self-regulatory Media Council of Zimbabwe (MCZ) implying that it would not be allowed to see the light of day if it excluded certain items they disagreed with such as an instrument of punishing errant journalists.

There is also suspicion within government circles that that the MCZ is an attempt by civic society to displace the state-supported Media and Information Council headed by acerbic former media lecturer Dr Tafataona Mahoso.

Dr Ndlovu might feel hard done by his critics’ dismissal of his capabilities of biting the bullet, but evidence on the ground point to an individual more associated with comical gaffes than being a serious politician.

The independent press in Zimbabwe has been quoted as saying that Mugabe, possibly making his last cabinet changes before he leaves office in 2010, expects that his last team of ministers will save whatever survives of his chequered legacy which now leaves him looking like one of the worst leaders to have emerged from post-colonial Africa.

Why Injiva could not last another day

If you are a family man in Zimbabwe, who is law abiding and is not into shady deals, you have had it.

There is practically no way you can tell me that things are fine for you at this time of year, particularly ‘this’ time of the year.

Personally, I am seriously considering putting my family under judicial management.

Then I don’t have to worry about all the monies that I owe people. Or better still, I could ask that my family and I be turned into state property.

The only problem with the former would be that I would have to wait until the next budget to be funded. Now that is a very long time to wait for a stipend.

At any rate, unless you are a gold-panner (know as Makorokoza) or a diamond dealer who has escaped the jaws of Operation Chikorokoza Chapera or some form of corrupt activity…you should be on your knees praying for a miracle.

Things are tough, mshana. But some get by through divine intervention alone. Take the guy who earns Z$20,000 (revalued as opposed to devalued) and is supposed to pay school fees worth Z$80,000, not to mention shelling Z$40,000 for transport.

That leaves absolutely nothing for rent, food and beer!

Even injiva, as migrant workers from South Africa are known here, felt the heat. They beat a hasty retreat towards Beitbridge the moment they discovered that their rand wasn’t worth jack. Those who had planned to stay a couple of weeks more were spotted pawning their cell-phones on Boxing Day just to enough fuel to reach the border, heyi wena!

‘Mara kuyabheda apha ekhaya fethu!’ they were heard cursing under their breath.

What they failed to do, arrogant as they usually are, was to ask those of us with experience on survival tactics, such as pushing your car half way to town from Pumula to save fuel.

We would have told them about ‘cruising’ (with the engine switched off) from ‘D’ Square to Happy Valley, as long as the ‘robots’ are green or amber or unless that police road block cum toll gate at the Nguboyenja fly-over isn’t there for some inexplicable reason.

They also made the mistake of driving around with a car bearing GP number plates.

Unless you robbed a bank in Nelspruit, that is a red flag for the traffic police.

My advice was for them to park it out of sight and borrow a ‘better-than-walking’ from the neighbour.

He would be so glad because it would be the first time in years that the jalopy had a full tank of fuel.

Better still, they should have melted into the crowds by using what we plebeians use for transportation…good old kombi, Bra!

We might be risking our lives on a daily basis but what other choice do we have? Walking?

Ungabi ngucleva when riding a ‘commuter’ asking uwhindi (tout) such silly questions like whether he got a receipt at that road block.

Hell hath no fury like a tout scorned! He is likely to eject you with the words, “Hamba wena uyebabuza ukuthi yindaba!” (Go and ask them yourself!) Such is the life of survivors, to mind your business when others are doing theirs. No matter how elicit.

What about the queues? Not the ones at the bank, nor the ones for bread at the supermarket. I mean the queues at every school in the country.

Parents are begging headmasters to give them enough time to rush off to Marange or Bocha (where there is an outbreak of the precious stone) so that they can raise money for the fees.

There is practically no way a salaried person can afford those fees, never, unless the head is a distant relative or a drinking buddy, khohlwa sibali.

And this thing about rising prices each time we turn our backs. Greed is one thing but what is happening nowadays defies definition. I think its time those handcuffs did their job on some unscrupulous individuals once again. Just ask the managers from that bread company though it seems to have worked well for them. Hours after being sprung from the cells did the legal price of bread quadruple. It definitely sets a bad precedent for crafty capitalists.

I hope we are not going to see some managers volunteering to be arrested for illegal price hiking so as to coax a higher figure from the authorities. Funny things really do happen sometimes.

Quote of the Week: “Help a man when he is in trouble and he will remember you when he is in trouble again.” Unknown

What it means:

Injiva or Imtshifana. Zimbabweans who have gone to South Africa through various ways and means are come back to show off their being well off. Usually loud, pompous and arrogant.

Gold Panners. (Makorokoza) have wreaked hovoc on the environment answering the call of greed by digging anywhere they think gold is at.

Currency revaluation. What happened to Zimbabwe's currency by striking off the last three zeros to allow suffreing citizens to carry decent loads of cash made near useless by quadruple digit inflation.

Operation Chikorokoza Chapera (Lit: Gold Panning is finished) A police dragnet that attmpts to arrest the widespread destruction at its perpetrators

‘Mara kuyabheda apha ekhaya fethu!’ "Its tough at home for sure"

GP number plates. The licence plates found on vehicles from Gauteng Province (Joburg) as called 'Gangster's Paradise' with good reason

'Ungabi ngucleva' Don't be clever and a half.

Marange or Bocha These are places in the Eastern Highlands of Zimbabwe where a diamond rush of sorts is in progress, making instant millionaires out of once dirt poor peasants.

Khohlwa, sibali! Forget it

Goodbye 2006, so much for 2007

I know that I have not kept my word by refreshing this blog. So what? I have no regrets at all. Its my blog so stuff it if you care. So much for the tantrum. The fact is, I have been under a continuous state of shock for the last two months (since the last entry.) If you live in Zimbabwe, then stress is the by word. We're living it full time.

Eat this...the guys who misrule this country were busy slapping each other on the back when the Minister of Finance said that the country will not sink because, and I quote,"Our people are very resilient." Reminds me of the "Ramba Wankashinga" (Remain steadfast) jinggle which has the motley bunch of prancing dirt poor peasants celebrating the fact that they now had the land. Now I get it. Its not about politics, neither is it the economy, stupid, nor 'illegal sanctions.' As long as the people remain resilient, things will remain the way they are, or worse still, get worse!

In the last two months we have seen inflation breach the 1500% mark and I can bet you that predictions by economic commentator John Robertson, that it will hit 2000% by December 2006, have come to pass. Its unilateralism everywhere. The bakers have raised the price of the loaf at the same time throwing quality out of the window. You leave the supermarkert with a loaf, and get home with a bag full of crumbs! Honest! To add to the drama, the government decided to reign in these 'errant and unscrupulous businessmen' by throwing them in the slammer. Only to agree later to a price almost twice what the bakers were arrested for! Wkat cheek!

Fuel prices continue to rise. At the last count it was Z$2900 per litre. This is against the elusive government subsidised one of a deceptive Z$350. I am yet to find it at the garages. Which is why commuter omnibus operators have (you guessed right) unilaterally hiked fares by 100%! All this is happening when the average salary of a university lecturer can afford him 100 loaves of bread.

Sanctions? My foot! Someone is failing to manage things, pure and simple.