The Thing

It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, (protecting its sanity), covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But, it is never gone.
Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

When a man falls in love he undertakes a huge risk of embarrassment, heartache, and regrets. The reasons for these are as numerous and as diverse as the reasons for falling in love. The man becomes subject to conventions of love, traditions and rites of love relationships. These include the expectations to be in-charge, to reciprocate emotions put forth by the object of his love, to assume the role of “the protector,” to name but a few. Essentially, the man becomes a slave of routine and procedural expectations of falling in love. Love itself becomes the risk, but the man endures in hope of an expected reward, the reward of a love mate. The promise of enduring friendship, comfort, and company precedes and overcast the risk. To him, love becomes both a fortress and an abyss.
I guess you may have expected volumes of data to support my claims in the preceding paragraph. Well, you are in for the greatest disappointment yet. I am going to make more preposterous assumptions about love because there have not been scientific rationalizations for love, as yet. True, some people have attempted to explain the process of falling in love using psychoanalytical approaches, albeit with little success. For example, a psychoanalyst will tell you that love is an investment in, and the ability to be loved by another without experiencing this love as a subjective threat. Often, psychoanalysis will cite The Thing, a concept whose introduction to the field is largely attributed to Sigmund Freud. The Thing is described as the unconscious articulation of desire. Of course, the Thing is just an abstract concept that has acquired common usage in psychoanalysis. It cannot provide a rational justification for falling in love.
Having anchored my argument on the fact that love is not a quantifiable idea, I will proceed to make my presumptions. You see, today I saw a man cry. His forlorn eyebrows hang pitiably as his soggy eyes drained tears that congealed just before they dropped off his chin. His lips twitched and shook. His nostrils occasionally let out a thin, clear liquid that hang briefly at the tip of his upper lip, and then shot promptly up his nose as he sniffed pathetically. I watched silently as he sat looking down at his food, visibly feeling nauseated and sick. I sat opposite the man, unsure whether to ask him, “is everything alright, my man?” I watched him as he fought back his tears in an attempt to hide his shame in crying in front of another man – me. I felt ashamed at my decision to put my tray at his table. I wanted to switch seats. I couldn’t bear to see his teary eyes, his smudged cheeks, and his weary countenance.
Then, I looked at his two companions at the table. They were giggling. They smiled from side to side, as if mocking the miserable man whose condition only worsened with every clatter of their chuckles. His companions were female.
As soon as I set my tray down, one of the two girls rose from the table and offered to take the man aside, presumably for some comforting. It turned out that the man was indeed comforted because moments later, he came back to the table, eyes dabbed and nostrils cleaned out – at least partially. The only tell-tale signs of his hitherto mopping were his bloodshot eyes and his forced smile which come out more like a lip fissure than a smile. When the man was being cooed down, I asked his other female companion why the man was in his sorry state. She said something that insinuated that the man was a victim of a recent break up. I didn’t ask much after that but I knew that he must have succumbed to the wiles of love. To me he was the proof I needed to assume that love is a risk that once undertaken puts the parties involved on a precipitous path to regret.
Of course, after relating the story of the man who sat across from me at the dinner table with such apathy, I must appear indifferent and isolated from the emotion of love. On the contrary, I have oftentimes believed that I am in love, undertaking the same risk from which I vainly attempt to distance myself. I admit that I have felt the stir of the Thing within me, pushing me toward the slippery slope of “what on Earth was I thinking?” In any case, the Thing has insidiously been deleting my inhibitions to love. At first, I would look, inquire, and perhaps shrug the idea of love tugging at my collar. Now, I don’t need to inquire. I can’t help but entertain the idea of falling in love after looking. My stimulus has been reinforced and perfected to immediately trigger the Thing. When a man falls in love he assumes a role typical of a male lion. Animal behaviorists have attempted to explain why the lion behaves the way he does in a pride. For instance, the male lion maintains authority over his territory by expelling all other males (if they are not collaborators), and by expunging all unrelated male cubs. Consequently, the lion becomes a wary creature, looking out for any intruding males that could possibly dethrone him. He lives in constant fear of attack, of coup d’états, of sudden death by invasion.
The lifestyle of the man in love is closely fashioned after the behavior of the lion. When a man falls in love he becomes “the protector.” Unconsciously, the man becomes wary of other men who may appear to encroach on his object of love. He develops feelings that have been described as jealousy. The Word Tutor dictionary defines the adjective jealous as “suspicious or fearful of being displaced by a rival.” To complete the simile, the man in love also becomes a target of sudden death namely by the appearance a new, superior man. The man in love is a victim of a vicious circle of love and hatred, of trust and betrayal, of truth and lies. The man in love is hanging precariously on the edge of a weathered precipice.
I am a man in love. The sword of Damocles hangs on a derelict thread over my head.

I Have an Enemy

It stares at me all the time. I can see it fixated ferociously at me. It bares its fangs. Its jaws are seething with bewildered thirst for blood. My enemy is before me, and I am crippled with dread. Despair has overcome my spirit.
My enemy is with me all the time. I have lived with my enemy all my life, yet, its presence is constantly renewed. I know it is waiting out there in the shadows. It moves furtively. It creeps behind me with its deadly arms crouching over my trembling frightened body. My enemy is not menacingly huge, but it is a monster. It is wily. It is sly. It is ferocious and it is deadly. I know it will kill me – someday. Right now, though, I know it is still stalking me, giving me time to work up my fear. I am getting nervous and scared. My fear of my enemy mounts every minute.
The name of my enemy is not definitive. Also, it has lived for a very long time. It was there when I was born, and it will be here after it devours me. Tic. Tic. Tic.
My enemy is wise and very knowledgeable. It has been in many battles. It has won all. It fought with the Great Alexander, and defeated him in a single strike. My enemy even fought with the infant that wasn’t born. My enemy is huge! Tac. Tac. Tac.
In my own room, my enemy has over taken me. It is in my mind, and it is out of my mind. My hand is clasped. My enemy has chained my wrist and my sometimes it slips in my shirt pocket, with my heart just beneath it. I can feel its restless arms probing my skin as it slips into my pants’ back pocket. I can feel my enemy eating away my life each minute. Tic. Tac. Tic.
My enemy is the clock. It is the Grandfather clock. It is the city clock. It is my wrist watch. It is my alarm clock. You know what, call it what you like. My enemy is the time.
Every time I look up from my desk it is always staring hungrily back at me. I can feel its killer intent. I can see its fiery eyes, its hands incessantly waving its pointed claws in hypnotic circular motions.
Its growl is annoying and unnerving. The growl is not loud. It is not soft. Other people say it is rhythmic. Others, melodic. But I say there is nothing more boring to listen to than a periodic tic-a-tac. Especially, when you know that the source of the ticking nuisance is your enemy.
I have been asking myself how I became the victim in this vicious struggle for survival in a war that is determined. And I know I will lose.
My struggle began as soon as my mother conceived me. I could swear I knew my life’s battle had began the moment I became aware of things. But my desperation was swift, too. Realizing that my enemy was enormous I shrank back with fear and intimidation. I recoiled and coiled my tail between my hind limbs. My enemy is menacing. I am afraid. I am scared.
I have heard people say that my enemy is running out. What craziness! No, it is utter naivety! Ignorance, I’d say. My enemy grows bigger every day. And I am getting tinier. I am losing my confidence. My enemy is too big.

The Birth of a Nation

For a very long time I have admired conquests and successful occupation campaigns such as assimilation and absorptions. In a conquest, the invading party triumphs over their vulnerable victims, grabbing all of the latter’s resources and governance. Conversely, assimilation and absorptions are subtle. In this case, the offending party targets the ideas and beliefs of the defenseless victims, introducing, or in some cases imposing new cultures and customs on the colonies. Absorptions and assimilation are passive but effective means of control because oftentimes, the colonized person is made to feel weak, not by subjugation, but by deception. The victim of deception is made to believe that the decrepit conditions they find themselves in is a result of their own errors, misjudgments or decisions. Once ensnared, the victim is rendered defenseless and dependent on the conqueror for comfort, without which the victim would never be hopeful. Usually, the mechanisms of absorptions are delicately engineered so that they appear innocuous and advantageous in order to veil the hideous truth of its devastation.

In the German-Russian War, the Russians, heavily outperformed both in terms of artillery and troops in Stalingrad used deception and strategic propaganda to intimidate their German adversaries and encourage their limited warriors. Granted, the war was long-drawn and brutal, resulting in cataclysmic destruction and loss of life but the troops held on. Their patriotic devotion to the war is admirable but it wouldn’t be wishful to think that coercion was used to induce them to persist in the fighting. Such is the power of persuasion and deceptions.

Sometime ago, I read a book titled “The F.O.J. Syndrome in America: Brainwashing of Americans” by Ratibor Jurjevich. In the book, Mr. Jurjevich argues that Americans have been always under special mind control by an elusive group of elites who design American economic and political policy. Unaware and unquestioning the hoi polloi have always lived by these policies silently and humbly weathering any discomfort it may mete out. Ordinarily, people protest when they find out that they are exploited or manipulated. Worse, when one finds out that restrictions have been placed on one’s choices, rebellion is often the instinctive response. For example, when I was younger, I would argue against anything I thought came with strings attached, especially if it were something my parents asked. I am certain that many teens have experienced the same at some time in their adolescent years.

I believe that the power of persuasion transcends generations and boundaries, if I may be as bold as to imagine it. I have observed that in the history of mankind, people with the ability to persuade, or exert their influence by way of disseminating ideas to others have always risen to the top of their game. For example, the greatest revolutionaries in history have been excellent orators. Recently, president Obama was hailed as one of the intelligent speech makers. With only a message encoded in three monosyllabic words, he planted the greatest American dream, yet, that there was hope in times of crisis. He foresaw what many would have, but his ability to articulate his vision into verbal ideas elevated him to higher platform than most of us. Personally, I admire his skill and talent.

However, I do not intent to make this entry an appraisal of the man who has perhaps had most people drooling to shake his hand. Rather, I wish to contemplate how the power of persuasion could be used to conquer the world. I am assuming, of course, that the limitations of difference in opinion resulting in expressive conflict. I am assuming that people are willing to listen to each other, and that they do not feel threatened to abandon their prior beliefs or adopt new ones.

Say, I convince my girlfriend (by deception or by fluent logic) that I will provide for her fully if ever we got to live together, I may get her to believe that I am willing to marry her. However, if I played m cards right, I may just get away with staying with her, making her unable to neither sever her ties with me nor completely come into my life. Of course, my girlfriend wouldn’t be so clueless as to fail to understand that I were messing with her mind, but lucky for her, I do not have a girl for which I have planned this selfishness.

Convincing my girlfriend has nothing to do with conquering the world. I am just contemplating that it would be a similar situation, except no as easily simplified as exploiting one vulnerable lady. I would want to point out at this time that exploiting a clueless man would be just as easy. The world, however, is different. To conquer the world, it would mean rising to the very top of the intelligence ladder – way top – ahead of all other intellectuals that have risen over myriad others.

There have been arguments that the true leaders hide behind the mask of the front guy. I read in Jurjevich’s book of such claims. But Jurjevich supports his arguments with well thought logic and fact. In some cases, his appeal to the pathos is sensational: in others, he implores the readers to seek justifications in their sense of ethics. Last night, I watched “The Obama Deception,” a documentary by Alex Jones with an incendiary theme – that behind the mask of the US presidency are puppeteers manipulating political as well as economic policy. Unlike Jurjevich, Jones claims that the real masters of US policies is a group called the Bilderberg Group. My problem, however, is not who is in charge, it is how they got in charge. My best guess is that they are extremely intelligent and persuasive.

In religious circles, it is easy to identify who is in control and why. The all knowing, omnipotent Almighty is in control because He is far more intelligent than any other being in the universe. His influence transcends space, time, and dimensions. He is just too powerful. And He held captive the minds of many, not by subjugation but by inspiration – a special definition for the mechanism of persuasion involved in religion.

But as Jurjevich and Jones point out, control is of populations is possible: heck! if it can be imagined it can be done. It is also a fact that control is attainable through the successful implantation of ideas in people.

Virtual Reality: Now You See Me, Now You Don’t!

My friends and I were having lunch at the Freshmen Dining Hall, calmly enjoying casual talk and occasional intelligent back-and-forth conversations, when I abruptly asked to share my views on the topic at hand. I say, “abruptly,” because my thoughts had wandered off from the table argument to the mysterious world of blank-mindedness. The topic of conversation was the apparently stable and sustained economic growth in Botswana. Ordinarily, economic issues aren’t subjects I would stick my nose in until I had had time to tweak and poke into for some insight. However, I must have shown signs of intense interest in the subject because no sooner had my eyes risen from the plate of pasta in front of me than one of my friends across from me looked at me curiously and asked: “Why do you think Botswana has had sustained economic growth and political stability unlike her neighboring countries such as the Congo?”

The originator of the question had apparently taken a course about Central and South African Countries and was probably looking for a second opinion on whatever the reason was, but in my haste to portray myself as well read and informed, I said that perhaps negative media influence in the Country was minimal. I had intended to expand my point to show that negative publicity has been known to scare investors from a country, resulting in poor growth; but, my friend, obviously surprised that my point appeared vague, did not waste time in killing my argument on the spot.  My friend went on to explain why Botswana should be the model for the ideal African country – minimal political scandals, multi-partism at independence, proper utilization of economic resources, etc. My efforts to defend my point of view bore little results and I had to concede that I didn’t know a lot about factors that influence politics, especially in Botswana. Ultimately, I contended that even if negative influence of the media, especially Western media, did not do much to influence growth of a country, negative publicity certainly changed reality. I was thinking about the several instances when the media had picked up trivial scandals and blown them out of proportion, resulting in the instability of the forex market.

Naturally, equipped with knowledge from  the course on Economic Policy in Botswana, my friend would find my argument weak and unsuitable. I guess if I had said that the growth record is explained by the economic policies which Botswana has pursued – growth-promoting policies, then my argument would have at least had a solid background. Or, perhaps if only I had said that there was no single explanation for Botswana’s splendid performance… But, I did not. I chose to pursue a weak thread. I played a weak hand in the game of wits. I was not only proud, but I was foolish. I failed to assess the situation and I failed to recognize my disadvantage of limited exposure to issues in Botswana.

Such discussions inevitably find their way to the dinner table despite efforts by Yalies to engage in gossip and casual talk. There is usually the misguided idea that African students are aware of everything that is related to Africa. Sometimes, African students are expected to conform to the stereotype, whether be it fact or myth. It is not unusual that African students themselves have adopted the same approach to African issues and expect their colleagues to be knowledgeable about events in the continent. Of course, that would be the ideal scenario, conforming to the old adage: “know thyself first,” but often the reality is regrettably disappointing.

The ideal is a virtual reality. It is a fantasy. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in the ideal world, live the ideal life, and lead the ideal lifestyle. I have friends that have wished they experienced the ideal life or met their ideal sweethearts. I also know of some who have tried to create the ideal. For example, with the ideal physique in mind, some of my friends hit the gym everyday for at least two hours for intense sessions of aerobic exercises and weight-lifting. Personally, I have pursued the ideal healthy eating. I would like to think that I have found it, but I would be kidding myself. Oftentimes, I have found myself ingesting substances I wouldn’t say were healthy.

My ideal lifestyle is something I created. I closed my eyes, imagined it, thought it into existence, and perfected it in my mind. I haven’t experienced it, yet I feel I have achieved it. It doesn’t exist, but it is real. I cannot touch it, yet I feel it. It is virtual reality.

I presume that many would say that living a virtual reality happens only in animations and simulations but how much of our lifestyles has been affected by virtual reality? Asked to comment about an animated series by his name, The Adventures of Jackie Chan, Chinese actor Jackie Chan said that ever since he was a child, he had always loved cartoons. He felt that if he were a cartoon character he would do much more than he actually was capable of in his human form. Virtual reality pushes us to the point where we want to by the virtual character we have created in our minds. Warnings on some of the TV programs drive this point closer home by their conveniently scripted “DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME” message. Still, I agree with Mr. Chan that if there were ways to live as the virtual character that I imagined, I’d give it a try – and probably like it. In fact, being animated doesn’t only grant you super-hero status, but it gets your car the best insurance deals!

There are other ways of enjoying the perks of virtual reality. For example, by playing video games, one can easily gain access to classified government information, by a super-agent, a savior, a war-lord, etc. However, it must be noted here that all this benefits are accrued only in the virtual world. One can earn virtual cash, be a virtual billionaire, or be a mass murderer without the threat of indictment. After all, all that is done in the virtual world is unreal. The only risk associated with virtual reality gaming is the unlikely possibility that players become hypnotized to reenact the virtual game in the real world. The impunity of the virtual world is seldom looked kindly on in the real world.

There are a few occasions I have found myself angry at my virtual reality. Sometimes, the real world contributes too much in the virtual world and I wind up creating an ideal filled with the obstacles of the real world. Of course, these obstacles could easily be avoided by deletion, but forgetting that I am in the virtual world, I try to solve my way out of this obstacles. Often, obstacles in the virtual world are caricatures of real obstacles, and the exaggeration makes it even harder to solve the issues of the virtual world. I have, on occasions, found myself at the threshold of insanity, only to preserve my sanity at the eleventh hour by deleting the virtual obstacles and recreating my ideal.

There are some virtual scenarios that get you thinking a lot about the real world. I am new in the world of on-line gaming but I have observed interesting patterns in the settings of virtual games on-line. Often, games are ordered in levels, with more rewards promised for clearing levels and progressing through the games. The concept of reward-punishment works well to motivate players to devote their attention to their games, effectively drowning the players in the virtual reality. The other thing I have noticed is that most virtual games are inspired by actual real world scenarios. However, there are some that are completely imagined or overly exaggerated. Still, others are inspired by a stigma or stereotype. When playing these games, players often find themselves either concurring or in conflict with the reality they are served – which explains why some games are favorites while others aren’t. This example reinforces the idea that the ideal is not an all-agreeable perfect universe. However, it is possible to engineer the virtual world so that it becomes the ultimate fantasy for everyone, but to accomplish such a feat would mean investing in investigations into likes and dislikes of every person.

I like the virtual reality because the real worl is unforgiving and unyielding. I can manipulate the virtual world, but I have never been able to change reality. I have tried to conform to reality at the expense of bliss accorded by the nonchalance of the virtual world, but I can never really get the reality to bend according to my will. The best I can ever hope to get is enjoy the real world, accept its ups and downs, and learn to take it without much complaints. It is sad that reality is immutable. It is more depressing that there have never been successful attempts to change reality. Perhaps, just perhaps, this is the reason my argument that Western media has changed the reality in Third World nations such as those in Africa was nothing more than gibberish in front of my informed friends at the lunch table.

There, I said it, Duh!

There are some things that you just cannot take for granted, although every time we sit back and think about we often ignore them – speaking, for example. Of course, there are those that will attempt to argue that people with speech impediment are least likely to agree with my point of view. Nonetheless, I will persist with my argument that people oftentimes take speech, or the ability to speak, too much for granted. I, too, have at times sat back and thought that I may have been very careless with my words – wasted them, so to speak. I have often reflected on certain conversations I’ve had only to find that it might have been better for me to listen instead. I know that it is almost impossible to notice that you’re wasting your valuable speaking abilities, especially if you want to express yourself to an audience that you think hardly understand you. Then, you are bound to overuse words, perhaps recycle them within short intervals of each other, or repeatedly say one thing for a very long time.

There is another way to waste your speech: saying something completely out of context. This can take may take forms such as carelessly taking a tone that is disrespectful of the audience or inappropriate choice of vocabulary. Sometimes it may take the form of complete idiocy, where a speaker inadvertently conjoins senseless words in an effort to appear enlightened. Personally, I have encountered these incidents of carelessness in speech but I wouldn’t say I haven’t been careless myself.

Today at dinner I was enjoying my meal quietly as I have accustomed myself, when I was jolted from my serene inactivity by an interesting comment spoken quite audibly for me to hear at the adjacent table. I must add here that I am calculatedly absolving myself of eavesdropping because I wouldn’t want to gossip. Well, coming back to the comment in question, it went like this: “Don’t make me laugh anymore. If you continue to make me laugh, I will come!”

Now, that comment wouldn’t have made much impact had I not looked up to see the speaker. There he was: a gentleman of early twenties – typical college student – ecstatically clapping his hands as his friends grinned from cheek to cheek at the clever comment he had just made. It was only after I invested a few more seconds to get the gist of their joke that I gathered that it was sexual. It might have been innocuous to the casual listener, but I admit I have a pendant for dwelling on things that hijack my attention. I spent a few minutes ruminating on the comment stated above, before I drifted off into thinking about how speech has evolved so conveniently to allow us to mask embarrassing situations…

I finished my dinner without any further excitement after that. I went back to my business and studies, and soon forgot about the dinner incident. But somehow my thinking got me wondering how much people really take speech for granted. I wasn’t offended by their dinner-table vulgarity, but it certainly wasn’t the best place to desecrate the solemnity of sex. Then again, what is sex but youthful fun for boorish Yalies?

My deliberation on speech took me back in time to my early days when I was still developing my language skills. I have often sat back and reflected on the splendor of the English language, although I must state from the onset that I am no language critic. The English language is rich: its idioms, proverbs, expressions… One of the things that captivate me about the language is the endless lexicon of phrases that are up in the air. Take for instance the phrase: “if you take this road, it will take you… downtown, perhaps?” Now, I’d really love contend about whether it’s I who is taking the road, or it’s the road that is doing the taking, but my complacency forbids me from indulging in a chicken-and-egg discussion. Nonetheless, my admiration for the English language can be traced back about two decades ago when I first learned the alphabet. Granted, I have limited recollection of my memory about then but I can remember my fascination at the unfamiliar symbols of the English alphabet, skillfully scripted in bold below feint drawings of animals whose names begin with corresponding letter of the English alphabet. Thus, under C would be a drawing of a Cat or a Cow. Notice here, that, because of existing rules of the language saying that the picture was under the letter C is more natural than saying the picture was above the letter C. I know I am splitting hairs here, but I guess my point is that my fascination about the English language is profound.

I learned the English alphabet at the age when my curiosity was growing exponentially every day. I was inquisitive of almost everyone and everything in my house: my dad, my mum, myself, my little kid sister, my cat, chicken… everything! It was also an age when I actually paid attention to all rumors and stories I heard from my mother, especially in the mornings when I woke up, and in the evenings before I was tucked in bed for the night.

One of the stories that never failed to remind me of the importance of facial care was one about babies that fed on donkey’s mammary glands in their sleep. Often, the tell-tale signs for anyone who had been suckled by a donkey were the white side-burn streaks of dried saliva stains on the cheeks. The etiology of the story was, and still is credited to the gross nature of the stains, nauseating stains whose infamy was well illustrated by the donkey-suckling story. Of course, the tale itself was never sufficient to convince anyone to hit the bath in the morning, but its efficiency to induce face-washing was unparalleled. I guess my attention to speech has its roots in this incident.

Thoughts on Wars and Ideas

“To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.” – Barack Obama
It has been over a year now since I watched the movie, “V for Vendetta,” a Warner Bros. production directed by James McTeigue. It was an amazing movie that kept my eyes glued to the screen as I drank the plot and lost myself in the magical world of film. The plot revolves around an anarchist called V, who sets out to fight the totalitarian government in a future-retro Britain. The movie necessarily begins with a narration by a woman’s voice, a woman who falls in love with both V and his idea. V for Vendetta became memorable to me for this reason: that it explored the theme of war on ideas or principles. This theme had been explored in Joseph Conrad’s novel, “The Secret Agent” (1906), where an anarchist sympathizer explodes a major central building in Greenwich, London. Both V for Vendetta and The Secret Agent emphasize the concept of the immortality of war; especially, war against ideas or personal beliefs and principles. There can never be a more divisive factor than our own beliefs. History is wrought with examples of conflict induced by the lack of willingness to surrender one’s belief. Many people agree that the conflict between the US (and allies) and the Al-Qaeda is a confrontation of ideas. The Al-Qaeda attacks the Western philosophy whereas the West defends its commitment to democracy and justice. Seldom is the war on Al-Qaeda thought of as being instigated by the West, which would effectively shatter the notion of justice. But of course! The two are unequally matched strategically; thus, the party that controls most communication channels will try to disseminate a favorable outlook to the world. All this is an effort to win more sympathizers for one’s cause. The US has succeeded in portraying her cause as just, hence the war on terror. Ultimately, the war on Al-Qaeda is a war on a concept of terror, injustice and inhumanity. When the US went to war with Japan in the 1940s, the same principle was in play. The Japanese saw the methodology of war used by American soldiers then as ruthless. Whereas Japanese soldiers, motivated by their deep sense of duty, flew their planes into American camps and tanks, their opponents specialized in a “disengaged” conflict: air strikes. American pilots torched the Japanese from the air, maneuvered their planes back to camp and left a trail of destruction behind. The Japanese understood war on a more personal level: the sacrifice of every soldier was valued. In fact, it is recorded that before embarking on a suicide mission, Japanese soldiers devoted substantial amount of time meditating about death and obtaining some revelation or epiphany. To them, the American soldiers were like bullies, with profound disregard for the human lives. Although the American generals at the time might have wondered how stupid it was to intentionally crash oneself to death, their understanding of the conflict was remarkably different. To them, “death before dishonor” did not invoke suicidal strategies. The US-Japan conflict of 1945 is a candid example of a psychological division founded on differences of ideas. War, of course is a difficult subject to understand. Although it is perhaps the oldest form of human civilization, it is yet to be completely mastered. Even the greatest of minds have done little to limit wars or conflict. In fact, geniuses and great orators have always been at the center of major conflicts – Adolf Hitler, Robert J. Oppenheimer – to mention a few. However, it is clear that beneath all conflict is the inability to recant one’s ideals. People often enjoy debate, but when arguments fail to prevail over an opponent’s point of view, the unwillingness to compromise spurs division. Thereafter, persuasion becomes imposition of will. A weak mind will eventually comply with the stronger party, albeit begrudgingly. However, should there be some leverage on either sides, arguments could deteriorate into nucleated stand-offs and perhaps expressions of aggressions. The joining of external parties (often alliances) exacerbates the tensions and eventually the situation explodes into full scale confrontations. Given time, the conflicts grow and demand more resources. Warlords begin looking for more supplies and soldiers. Alliances become bigger and difficult to manage. Soldiers start to perish because of neglect as the warring organizations become large and hierarchies become established. The organizations expand their objectives for war into businesses and profits. Funding wars become a booming enterprise, as more finances are allocated to defense departments. Resources are allocated to search for new reasons and justifications for the conflicts: economic territories, democracy, faith… anything goes. Eventually, more effort is spent trying to prolong the war under the pretense of trying to win it, than is spent to end it. As the war itself is based on an uncompromised stand-off, trying to win it is an illusion. Instead, a truce would be a more suitable option. Today, war is a way of life. It is an economic activity. War reminds us that we are alive and that we need to struggle another day. War has not only become necessary to survive, but to stay ahead in a world that seems to favor the quick witted and the strong. Of course, the condemnation on war and other forms of human conflict is still very strong-willed and is justified. The world would be much better without conflicts, but it is just too difficult to wipe conflict, especially since most economies are supported by the war effort. Many technologies are inspired by conflicts. Science is devoted to developing stronger defenses against human and other invasions. Hence, it is most likely that wars and conflicts will continue to last for as long as there is the desire to win. However, the future of conflicts is more perilous than it is at present. With new technologies in weaponry, cataclysmic scenarios are more likely in the future than they are in the present. For example, weapons of mass destruction are capable of decimating large populations at once. Unless there is the desire to end wars, the future of war – and indeed, the oldest form of civilization – is hanging precariously on a thin thread, a thread that could snap at the slightest disturbance. An obdurate persistence of one idea over another is enough trigger to set the stage for long-term chaos. It is extremely difficult to check the progress of such conflicts, especially when one party demands that the other party denounce its ideals.

The End of the World!

No Life Ahead!

My first reaction to a headline such as the one I have chosen for this post would be “Oh, really? Has it happened after all?” See, the message of the end of the world has been trivialized to the extent that it no longer poses an immediate threat to life. It no longer elicits the excitement and anxiety that it did, perhaps when it was mentioned to the early converts in Antioch. Even perhaps closer to home, the events preceding the Great Disappointment in 1844 exemplify the anxiety that grips a population as rumors of the end of the world percolate the ranks of the general public. But these widely circulated rumors might just be the reason there are fewer organized groups of people nervous about the end of the world. [More…]
The 1844 Millerites were convinced that the end of the world would surely come in the month of October of 1844. In fact, one Adventist at the time, Samuel S. Snow, had calculated an exact date for the D-day. They waited, waited some more, then a little more. The Messiah didn’t show up, and the sun continued to rise and set as usual. The world proved stronger than their faith. Many were greatly disappointed.
Of course, before 1844 astrologers and astronomers had their views about the world and had began to foresee the end of the world. An astrologer and occultist, Nostradamus (16th Century AD) predicted the end of the world would come in the 21st century. In fact, speculative scientists have recently pinpointed the exact date prophesied by Nostradamus: December 21st, 2012. A more delayed end of earth prediction places the date on April 13, 2029, when a near miss encounter between the Earth and asteroid 99942 Apophis is expected to trigger some apocalyptic event. Consistent with natural laws of action and reaction, dooms day scientists have proposed scenarios for the end of the world.
Early this year, the History Channel ran a miniseries collectively known as Armageddon Week, in which the end of the world scenarios were discussed at length vis-a-vis past and present end-of-the-world prophesies. The discussions were very intriguing, and though highly speculative, reminded me that once again organized societies are actively springing into action to preach the message of the end of the world. Only this time, religion has receded to a lesser stage than science.
I do not deny the possibility that the world might come to some end some day, but my religion certainly doesn’t teach me that the world is going to experience a gruesome demise. I know from my reading of the Holy Bible that God is going to cleanse the world of sin, much like the way a miner cleanses a mineral of its ore – using fire (Revelation 20, 21). Also, I know that there will be survivors even in the face of the prophesied conflagration that will dissolve the heavens and the earth. It is a very hopeful picture.
But the end of the world scenarios proposed by present-day scientists is very disquieting. One picture portrays a super volcano (Yellowstone) erupting, decimating the entire US Population and creating a cascade of destruction and desolation on the planet. Surviving this scenario is entirely upto chance, but the threat is safely removed from the near future.
There are other scenarios that are closer to home than others. War has been identified as a major cause of mass murder and destruction. Until now, conflicts have been waged largely by use of artillery. However, on occasions weapons engineered to kill by indiscriminate infection of fatal ailments have proved successful in breaking the spirit of the enemy. For example, in the World War I, small pox was accountable for more deaths than the war itself. Granted, small pox is now a containable problem, but science has advanced to such levels as to allow artificial modification of microorganisms to increase resistance to drugs and vaccines. Other microorganisms naturally have the ability to transform within short periods of time, making development of vaccines a very taunting process. An unchecked release of such microorganisms to the public has not only the potential to decimate entire populations, but also the ability to shut down entire civilizations. As horrifying as it sounds, this scenario does not support the idea of the end of the world. Unless, of course, we think that the end of human life is the end of the world – which is a gross fallacy.
Even the worst possible scenario that proposes that the earth might get sucked into a black hole is not foolproof. First, black holes are poorly understood, except that they are insatiable voids somewhere in space, hungry for anything that responds to gravity. Eight years ago, NASA made a discovery very much like any other. Date: April 18, 2000; Event: Observation of XTE J1118+480; Identity: Black Hole. However, this black hole was different. Apparently, having devoured its immediate resources, it had ventured away to look for greener pastures. It had numerous choices, really, but it chose to head for Earth. Chance? Or perhaps it tossed a coin?
Nevertheless, the black hole has started its 6000 years light years long distance journey to Earth. When it reaches the Earth’s atmosphere (assuming we’ll be around to see it) some scientists have drawn a possible scenario for us to preview its dramatic entry and subsequent end of the world. Our bodies will begin to stretch upwards (I am guessing longer necks than those of giraffes), and a home run baseball will no longer fall on some lucky rascal’s lap, for it will forever be lifted towards the bottomless pit. Soon afterward we’d start flying – continuously upward. The earth would have to be the last to be sucked into the black hole. And then we magically disappear!
Now, that is what you’d call packed and ready to go.
But, where will we have gone? No one knows. Is a black hole a basket of sorts? All I know is that it is currently described technically as a singularity.
But if in my limited knowledge of physics and astronomy I can be allowed to speculate, I’d say we’d be safely tucked in the singularity as chocolates in a box. Well, not quite in the ordered fashion of a regular cubical box, but packed, nonetheless. Also, we’d try to move but we’d be pulled toward the center of the black hole so that movement is restricted. As the black hole continues to consume more planets, asteroids, oceans and other things in its path, we’d be drenched, squashed, ground and pressed against all sorts of things. It’d not be surprising to share the same space with an elephant and not be able to cry out for help because the immense gravity inside the black hole would permanently cause the lower jaw to hang. However, as my assumptions are not inspired by facts, this situation may not exist.
Anyways, I do not believe that the end of the world is neigh. I know that at some point extinctions may occur, but that would only cull a species off the face of the earth. The idea of the end of Earth itself is quite far fetched.

Notes:
1. I do not intend to discredit any scientific observations and discoveries made by NASA and/or other scientific communities about extra terrestrial and celestial threats to life on earth.
2. One website has dedicated its space to the description of apocalyptic events that are either imminent or expected to occur in future generations. Please visit http [:/] /www.nasca.org.uk/index.html for these explanations.
3. The Holy Bible is open for varied interpretations but I believe there is only one truth!

I’m Ranting, LOL!

LOL! This abbreviation has become a common punctuation at the end of text messages, emails, chat texts, and even in conversational sentences. Personally, I find its usage uncomfortable because it implies the act of laughing out loudly (LOL), which I think is crazy if one is alone. More precisely, the usage of the ?word? in phone text messages, email, chat and other personalized communication channels, except during conversations is outright insane because in these circumstances users are generally withdrawn from influence of a second or third party. In fact, in my entire conscious life, I have not seen a person laugh out loudly at a phone or computer. Of course, I do not deny the possibility that these actions are done in the safe confines of one?s private room. But even in these places laughing out loudly to yourself may only be justified by an unchecked, carefree attitude commonly adopted in one’s “own space.” Otherwise, it is rather peculiar to break into hysterical laughter when alone.

Reflections: Part 3

2009 will be rolling by in a few minutes. Of course, I know that some people in the East have already seen how different 2009 is from 2008. But, I also know that as the clock strikes 12 midnight tonight, many things will change in my life. First, I will have to learn to acquaint myself with writing the date with the ’09 at the end instead of the previously addictive ’08. In any case, my life will turn a new page of history. I know I am getting older. [More…] However before I welcome the New Year, there are a few things that have happened in the last year that I want to reminisce about. There were certain things that went really great, some really bad, but overall it was good. There was that trip to South Korea in the Summer. Oh, that was inspirational and eye-opening. I got to see what life means to people from a culture not so different from my own, but very new to me. Down there, life isn’t as laid back as is in Kenya, but it isn’t quite as fast as is in the States. I have discussed at length my encounters in Seoul in my entries titled “Going to Seoul.” Then, of course, there was the Spring semester – totally a let down – during which I spent a disproportionate time studying and flushed my GPA down the drain. My efforts at a comeback in the Fall were spirited but a tad lacking. I only managed to rescue a half point. Of course, the half point was enough to give me a respectable GPA on my transcript. I guess all is good. But the most memorable event for me this past year has to be my quest for a honest lifestyle. Now, don’t go imagining that I have lived a pure life, or a saintly faithful lifestyle – NO. I just wanted to live true to myself for at least one year. Everything I have done I have contemplated and asked myself if I agreed with it. In most cases, I lived up to this resolve, but sometimes a lie stubbornly escaped my lips. Of course, during those times, I’d try to make up an excuse for it by reminding myself that I was human. Being honest and open to myself meant checking and rechecking my speech reserves for the appropriate words to say to people so that I could not betray myself. I spoke only when spoken to. I spoke only when I was sure I had something to say. I can’t say it was easy, but in retrospect being honest with myself was largely rewarding. There were downsides, too. For example, there were times I spluttered whatever was on my mind at inappropriate times. I recall times when, in front of elegant girls I had mentioned some adjectives that I found later were considered obnoxious, especially if a gentleman said to a lady. Well, I honestly thought exactly the way I felt at the time. I must reiterate here that I was being honest only to myself. However, I realized that such commitment percolated out into my studies as well. See, there are those times you find a problem so dumbfounding that there seems to be no way around it. At these times, you scratch your hair (or head), chew on the end of your pencil (or eraser), and break a few pens until a stimulus triggers a memory circuit. At other times, there is just no clue and leaving the problem unanswered, you turn another page, where you run into similar difficult problems. Usually, I’d scratch a little, but because I was being honest with myself, I decided I was skipping any difficult question since I felt I didn’t understand. I assure you, that was a bad idea. Being honest with myself meant expressing my raw feelings expressly without discrimination. I’d look at a nicely dressed lady and think, “Now, is she pretty or is it the make up?” Of course, if she was sexy enough, I’d agree that she was pretty; otherwise, she invested a decent amount of time in front of the mirror in the morning. The reverse was also true: the ugly ones received similar analysis. In any case, living honestly with myself wasn’t easy. It was also costly: I bought myself whatever I wanted regardless of price; I went to my classes only as I felt like going; I slept whenever I felt. I think I stretched my resolve too far. Therefore this coming New Year, 2009, I want to live only for the big picture. I want to believe that eventually all things will work out, and that the little details don’t really matter. Of course, I know I will have to be extremely careful so that I do not become indulgent.

Reflections: Part 2

I haven’t been this disappointed in myself since – go figure. I guess I want to say that today, I felt let down by my own endeavor to improve myself. I am talking about my feelings after my Fall ?08 semester at Yale. Yalies come in all types and sizes. There are those that are small, some big. There are witty and the wacky. Then, there are the geniuses and the non-geniuses. I belong to the latter group. [More…] In order to make up for my non-genius, I inevitably have to input that extra effort in everything I do. However, I invariably always wind up falling short of passing the threshold that separates the genius from the non-genius. I do not complain, though, because I have often believed that belonging in the genius group is nothing but a name tag. So I content myself with shifting between the equilibrium between the over achiever and the excellent. This past week has been one of the most trying ones for me in matters of personal improvement in my pursuit for knowledge. This week was officially the exam week at Yale, the week of final examinations for the Fall semester. Naturally, reading and reviewing was in order but in my conceitedness I chose to squander the little time I had during the reading week before my four final examinations surfing the World Wide Web. I wasn’t looking for flies caught in the web – no – I was trying to calm myself. I was so anxious that I could not contain myself. Everything I had learned this semester seemed to seep out of my conscious mind. Probing the subconscious proved futile as well, since I could not find the necessary clues and stimuli. I am not too sure that my predicament was shared by many other Yalies, because every time I talked to my friends at dinner, their non-verbal reactions betrayed their surprise, which they had painstakingly tried to hide behind their quaint words. Every time I looked up at their eyes, I saw bewilderment and shock at my obvious terrified look. Many a time I wanted to smash my plate in their wily faces and ask them politely to visit the proprietor of Hades. But I had neither the will nor the strength to do so. Therefore, shutting myself out of the rest of the table conversation, I went back to knocking at the gates of my subconscious to salvage any memory of my semester?s work. I would walk out of the dining hall, my head bent, hands in my pockets, and barely lifting my feet off the ground. My first exam on Monday was nothing short of dispiriting. I had spent about one week preparing, albeit with anxiety, for this paper in hopes that if my first exam went well, things would likely look up for the rest of the week. Needless to say, my expectations were dashed immediately after I looked at the first problem on the first page of the thirteen page exam. Painfully I turned every page of the exam paper trying to find something that looked remotely familiar with what I had reviewed before the exam. I found nothing except ominous punctuation marks at the end of each question ? the question marks. It took a few minutes of praying and a few deep breaths to bring me close to identifying the key concepts being asked in the exam. Even now, I have no clue what I wrote, but I remember having filled the pages with as much memorized content as I could access at the time. It occurred to me after my first exam that I should perhaps change my study methods. Instead of allocating time to entertainment and study breaks – a very common practice at Yale – I chose to input as much data as I could into my mind, without taking breaks. Of course, I allowed myself to take restroom breaks and meal breaks. But, even so, these were limited in time and attention. I pondered over my exams every second, stopping only to swallow my food. I never thought it’d be possible for me to skip sleep, but when morning came the next day, I knew the meaning of working under pressure of deadlines. The amount of information I had ingested in that limited amount of time, in the hiatus between my first and second exam, was enough information to deliver more than twenty, one-hour lectures. I thought I was ready for my next exam. I was wrong. My body could not take such beating at once, especially after enjoying a lucrative semester of extended sleeping hours and eating. Having not slept a wink, and having taken to caffeine (out of my religious commitment to avoid any stimulants), I was on the verge of collapsing by the time the exam was handed out. Nothing new was on the exam. At least, everything asked about in the paper was similar to something I had memorized on the previous day. Now things started to look up. However, there was one little setback: my eyes were giving out. I knew that if I extended my blinking time, even a second longer than usual, it?d be a one way ticket to slumber land. Then, I could not close my eyes to pray; I looked at the ceiling, almost shut my eyes at the expansive whiteness, and asked God for His infinite wisdom. The exam ended without qualm. I went back to my room and immediately fell into deep sleep. I awoke more than twelve hours later. I was covered in sweat and breathing hard. I did not have a nightmare, but I think my body was consumed with exhaustion. I was starved and thirsty. Dinner time was long past and I do not think there are any food-places open at 1 AM in New Haven. I went downstairs to get myself a sip of water off the fountain in the library, and came back to my room feeling confused and lost. I sat on my desk staring at my lap top for a long time before hunger pangs brought me back from the surreal. I had two more exams to worry about. I particularly worried about one of the two. I had no clue how to study for it. There hadn?t been any mid-term exams for the course. The professor hadn?t released any previous forms of the final exam. I had only a sketchy understanding of the content of the course, and a foggy sense of the format the final exam. Unlike my previous efforts to study for the exams, I took a leisurely approach towards my last two exams. I skimmed over my notes, lecture slides and wherever I found an interesting piece of information, I’d recite it to myself. [It is important to mention herein that I usually study at my favorite study place, my room. Filled with paper and other disorganized stuff, my room has become part of my existence, much like an extension of my body. Once I am inside my room, everything seems to emanate from me and attach me to my room’s atmosphere. I feel connected to the shelves, the drawers, the desk, the floor…]. Taking time to pace around my room for brief moments, and grabbing scraps of paper here and there, I took notes and made sketches as I studied. I did anything and everything that my mind came up with; I studied at whim. I let go of all inhibitions and spent my pre-exam hours blithely. Surprisingly, I seemed to have absorbed a lot of useful information using the carefree study method because in my next exam, I actually understood the questions. Although I cannot say with 100% certainty that I answered all questions accurately, I am positive that my answers were all in the ball park of expected responses. I was calm and composed when I took the exam, and a friend I met prior to taking the exam commented that the expression on my face was not that of a person facing an exam in a course thought by many at Yale to be difficult. However, after the exam I still worried about my last. I have spent more time thinking about this last exam than I have thinking about my other exams. Usually I loathe thinking, especially about things in the future because I believe that things work out in the end. In Gary Goldman?s movie, Next, Chris says: “It’s a joke, but it’s true. The future changes every time you look at it. Because you looked at it. Cause once you see it, you’re different. And that changes everything else” (http [:/] /www.imsdb.com/scripts/Next.html). I agree. If you spend a lot of time looking into the future, thinking about it, making plans for it, you deprive it of excitement. You change everything that’s in store for you. I do not want that to happen to me. Therefore, I was concerned when I found myself thinking a lot of my last exam. I guess it could not be helped, though, because if I didn?t, I?d probably not have anxiously prepared for it. Thinking back, I think it is the only exam for which I used all techniques of revision and study. I crammed. I memorized. I did a lot of reading. I went to review sessions. I talked to friends about it? Yesterday, I read more than 700 pages of course packet articles in a span of eight hours – all for the sake of one exam. I have never been as worried as I was this week since I took my grade school matriculation exams. But when the exams came, I felt relieved that I had good understanding of the material. I am not saying, however, that my responses to some of the questions were not without errors. For example, for those that are familiar with the molecular wars of the 1950s and the 1960s, Evolutionary Biologists T. Dobzhansky and E. O Wilson have nothing in common with Zhankovsky. After the exam I felt thrilled that it was over. I felt relieved that I no longer have to undergo the hell that is reading week at Yale. It was a feeling of ecstasy that is shared by all Yalies after they are through with their final exams. The prospect of going home to one’s parents for Christmas, the New Year, and other holiday season fun become more real after final exams are over than during reading week. The days after final exams are days of celebration, pomp and partying. Friends call other friends over for farewell dinners, sherry and gossip. Other friends invite others to their dormitories for movies and music. Some – those with tight travel plans – hurriedly and haphazardly pack their backpacks amidst excitement and expectations of better days during the recess. My excitement, however, was inspired by a feeling of victory. I felt successful that after all my pain and toil, I had at last found the time to lay back and enjoy a quietude only afforded by the loneliness of a wintry New Haven. So, at noon today I was strutting and whistling my way into the dining hall for lunch wearing a bright smile, which had become rare in the last two weeks. I guess my joy was too apparent because my College Master’s secretary commented that she’d never seen a happier Terry than she saw today. I replied with more smiling. After lunch, I went back to my room, and having settled down, I felt hollow and bored. I had accomplished a great deal and earned myself a well deserved break, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all vanity. After all, the ordeal is sure to begin again in January. It has happened in the past, and it certainly isn’t going to stop now that I am a junior in college. Why did I feel excited? Why did I feel victorious?