Duty and Shame

Barack Obama's Inauguration speech really affected me on a personal level yesterday. I listened alone in a Boardroom, in the gathering dark above Hanover Square as he spoke of the duty of individuals to contribute to a globally networked community. He said "our patchwork heritage is a strength" and "let's not compromise our ideals in our need for safety".

It felt like he was speaking to me personally. I'm always most deeply affected by the idea that individual efforts can combine to affect the world and the community at large. I was reminded of Nelson Mandela's Inauguration day, and how much has passed since then. I realise that I've never seen myself as a citizen of any one nation, but rather a citizen of the world first, and then as a child of Africa, and now as a part of a European community.

"This too shall pass"*, and even this -

- that my parents are suffering so much and no matter what I do, I have no power to help them,

- that my relationship with my partner is a difficult one, and I don't know how and when and if we will survive as a couple,

- that my university studies have become more of a chore than a challenge, as I'm forced to study history from a post-imperialist apologist perspective that I despise,

- that the way I speak to people continues to excoriate and come back to haunt me,

- that I've only been given two days to reconnect with my sister and her sons; not enough, never enough, and I just have to accept it.

But then sometimes at my lowest ebb, I can laugh - at myself, as I weaved my way home last night, tipsy after 3 glasses of wine and a merry old time with Rosemarie, calling Gerald to have a good old sob on the phone - and thank heavens for my friends. My friends who are, after all, the family of my choice. I may not be there for them all, all of the time, but they're with me always and that's the one good thing that I needed to remember.

Good luck, President Barack Hossain Obama; hang on to your friends because I think you're going to need them! :)


* Abraham Lincoln, from a old Hebrew saying

Don't Panic*

I stripped rather nervously.

As instructed, I crawled naked into the machine. Eye patches stuck over my eyelids, I reached out blindly for the button and pressed "Start".

For a moment, everything was still. I held my breath and waited. And then, like a space age rocket machine, a loud and pleasant "Bing Bong" rang out around me, and all the lights in the machine came on. Through my blindfold, I could faintly make out bright purples and reds; a loud humming noise and faint, ominous cracking noises in the background. I couldn't help a nervous giggle. God help me, I thought, they must all think I'm nuts.

I waited. I began to feel a heavy warmth spreading over my body, over my skin, creeping into every nook, every curve of my limbs. A glowing heat tickled between my toes, lit up my face, gleamed on my shoulders. Slowly, slowly I began to relax and allow the heat to seep through all my aching muscles, still plagued with vague doubts and wondering if anyone had ever been caught in an explosion and killed in one of these infernal machines.

"What happens if I fall asleep? What do I do if I overheat and shrivel? What if someone .... "

"Bing Bong" said the machine pleasantly and shut down.

I sat up, peeled off my eye stickers and stared in the mirror. Yes, definitely more tanned.

Funny thing, though. I feel like I've just taken a trip in Zaphod Beeblebrox's Free Lunch Drive*, and returned as a piece of roast pork crackling.

* with thanks to Douglas Adams