Potholes on the Road to Peace

The Tanzanian government under President Julius Nyerere, with no help from western nations, kicked Idi Amin out of Uganda. Amin was a thorn in the side to Britain, a loose cannon. At the time, Tanzania was one of the world’s poorest nations and the cost of the operation was a setback to the nation’s growth. I had no idea of this until my mate Emanuel told me about the enduring cost to the nation.

Idi Amin is probably best remembered for booting out most of the South Asian people who had drifted into Uganda over the years. Most of them were Indian. They had ninety days to get out and 27 200 ended up in the UK, 6000 in Canada, 4500 went to India and some 2500 to Kenya. It seems the world was more accommodating to refugees in those days, although it has to be said that the British Commonwealth tended to look after its own! 

Amin’s rule was typical for guys of his ilk. Human rights abuses, ethnic persecution, extrajudicial killings, corruption, nepotism, political repression and gross economic mismanagement. When the Tanzanian army were close to catching him he fled to Libya, (good old Gadhafi, now there’s a fella for you) and he lived out his days in Saudi Arabia. Presumably the Saudi government weren’t too concerned that as many as half a million met an early demise at the hands of Amin! They gave him humanitarian sanctuary yet are happy enough to stone women for adultery and lop heads off!

Among my childhood pastimes, playing cowboys and Indians with my mates was a favourite. Nobody wanted to be an Indian, because they ended up dead – how inglorious! We had no idea what Native Americans were, because nobody told us. It seemed a natural thing to shoot them! That’s what sanitised history does for you! In the movies the Native Americans were called ‘savages’, a title that we, the misinformed, happily accepted. But hang on, who were the savages? Our hero, William Cody, otherwise known as Buffalo Bill, had the job of exterminating the bison, otherwise known as buffalo – yes, exterminating! He was working for wealthy New Yorkers and the US Army with the plan to starve the indigenous inhabitants, Native Americans, into submission forcing them onto reservations!

So back to Tanzania, I witnessed the beginning of the Rwandan genocide trials and the difficulties that were faced establishing the terms of reference and finding judiciary prepared to do the adjudicating. Some were threatened, some lawyers were murdered and the length of the trials meant that the people involved could not see the trials to conclusion because it would tie up their lives for too long.

Atrocities and genocide are nothing new, going on since man first noticed his neighbour was different and if you look at history, it is inappropriate for any of us to point the finger at another because several fingers are pointed right back to our own ancestors! After seeing the difficulties and expense of the Rwandan trials, which is a huge factor.  So who pays to bring modern offenders to account? Prime example: what’s going to happen when the Syrian crisis ends? Atrocities have abounded in that particular conflict and it is a fair guess that Bashar al-Assad will not want it to end because when it does, he will face some accountability, perhaps by his own people. But then there are his underlings who carried orders or those who acted without sanction, what happens to them? How many of them did inhuman acts without their boss’ authority? What about al-Assad’s cohort Vladimir, he’s not lily white either, but who will knock on his door to arrest him? Are innocent civilians killed by erroneous drone strikes atrocities or collateral damage? Who judges?

Part of the resolution of any conflict, is figuring out what triggered it and who gave the relevant order to start proceedings? Example: The Holocaust. Historically, the Jewish reputation for making money has made them a target, not so much because of religion but because of envy. So what the charismatic Hitler did was stir public sentiment against Jews, which became populist. To mount his war, Hitler did not need to attack Jews, but because he had the power and it was a popular move it was opportunistic at the time. He recruited a bunch of deranged perverts, and sadists, including the odd drug-befuddled to do the job. Just how it was carried out is history, but if Hitler had not committed suicide, what would have happened to him? Then again, what punishment would have been good enough? Revenge may be sweet but we all die only once and a simple death somehow does not equate to the horrific torture and deaths of millions.

No question, the world would be a better place if there was no Boko Haram, no Isis, no Palestine/Israel conflict, no Russian intrusion into Ukraine, no China vs Taiwan or Tibet, no North Korean sabre-rattling, no Syrian war, no other civil wars, no starvation. All these crises have leaders who don’t understand the basic principles of harmony, negotiation or conflict resolution. They all want to be perceived as strong leaders with a certain amount of mongrel, because they’re all scared that they will be usurped by some other moron with even more mongrel. So often, live by the sword, die by the sword plays out. 

It is wrong to suppose all conflict is religion-based. Boko Haram, Isis, Taliban and others are certainly religious bigots. But look at the rag-tag lot, who would want to be like them? Are they filled with happiness? Do the find life fulfilling? Do any of them ever smile? No they are hate-based and it is hatred that is their overriding cause. Example: Why does North Korea hate the USA? Of course it is ongoing resentment from the Korean War and all those bombs! Instead of allowing time to heal the past, it is in the best interests of Kim Jong Un and the regime to cause those wounds to fester because the last thing he wants is change, the regime is sitting pretty at the expense of the people! 

Peace is elusive, difficult to forge and maybe mankind has evolved with too many aggression genes. Was Darwin right? Survival of the fittest might well mean blitzing the opposition, after all the world’s natural resources are already stretched. Hang on! Surely we can be better than that! The possibilities of life within peace are worth striving for. But doesn’t that come by spreading wealth? Money isn’t necessarily the silver bullet, but equity just might be.

In Yemen, a child dies of starvation every ten minutes. The principle antagonist is Saudi Arabia. Britain, has taken advantage of the situation by selling weapons and ammunition to the Saudi government! Has been doing so for a long time, reaping millions in the process! Yes, if Britain doesn’t provide the firearms and ammo, some other country will. But remember those old western movies where the baddie sold firearms to the Indians?  It’s the same thing. Key word: morality.

A personal philosophy: Every action causes a reaction. A little example: If a leader complains about the media taking the piss, of course the media will continue to take the piss. If the said leader stopped targeting the media (acting responsibly would do no harm either), how would the media react? Yep, nothing to report. ‘Turning the other cheek’ was a metaphor for this very thing. Exception: Should North Korea manage to fire a nuclear warhead at the USA, USA’s early warning would fire up, and likely they would destroy it, but if the device did get through, the retaliation would be devastating for both countries. No winners! No sense!

Any solutions to what’s going on? Unlikely. Egos, accumulation of wealth, and a craving for power are potholes on the road to peace. Too many issues, no consensus.     

Life's Lessons

Back in the day, at school or Sunday school picnics, Christmas parades or any mass gatherings where there were children, the highlight of the day was the lolly-scramble. Other countries may well have similar events, using sweets, candy or pipi. These were well-meaning affairs were adults, Father Christmas or even a helicopter tossed out sweets for the kids to madly dash after to scoff or to collect as many as they could. Of course these days the practice is banned because of resource consent – don’t you know, a kid could have an eye damaged, or the grass may be contaminated with dog poo and of course, sugar is a rotter of teeth! Compliance issues you see!

If you look at it critically, those lolly-scramble were a mirror real life, which showed that while the organisers and ‘throwers’ were well-meaning, there is no real democracy. In retrospect the ideal would have been to have the kids line up to dole out to each kid and equal share – do away with competition.

At the school picnic, the lollies are tossed onto the field by the headmaster and the kids scrambled!

Little Wendy held back, she didn’t want to rush in! She wore glasses with sticking plaster over on lens to correct a ‘lazy eye’. She had learned her lesson. Earlier in the year when she was getting used to her glasses, they slipped off her nose and Trevor stomped on them! Well, nevertheless, the headmaster ruled it a fair enough accident, but Dad scolded at her for not being careful enough and for having no regard for expense!

Malcolm was the tubby boy of the school and he rushed in, shovelling as many lollies into his mouth as he could. But he had struck a couple of really chewy ones and stood there oblivious of the chaos around him. He stood in the one place, cheeks full of lollies, concentrating on his chewing, chewing, chewing because his mouth was full and he had difficulty in breathing! He would be choosier next time and find some softer ones.

Tim, most called him ‘Timmy’ because he was small and timid. He too stood back watching, but on the edge of the crowd, a little frightened about the chaos that was ensuing. His father, who was becoming more and more frustrated at Tim’s, quiet nature, called to him to get stuck in or he would miss out. Tim didn’t hear, the next thing he felt the huge push that was his father, propelling him into the throng. He fell face down and spent the rest of the time on his knees.

Selina, the school’s tomboy (she hated her name and tried to make everyone call her ‘Lina’) didn’t really like sweet things, but she sure wasn’t going to let the boys push her out of the way! She was fast and filled her pockets, and once they were full, she began distributing them among kids who looked like they had missed out. Tim was one of the recipients and he smiled his thanks. Lina just gave him a curt nod.

Gordon, there was always something about Gordon. He was quick around the field, being choosy about which lollies he picked up. He particularly liked the wrapped toffees. Soon his pockets were full and the rest he stuffed down his shirt. Gordon’s intention as usual was to hide the lollies somewhere in his room and when nobody had any left, her would bring one at a time out and spend time savouring in front of whoever was nearby, making them envious, he liked that!

Trevor was the tough boy of the school. Of course when he bent down to collect his lollies, most of the kids kept well out of his way! But toughies always have their henchmen, he had three and they stayed close to him all the time, feeding off his charisma. As usual, after the event, Trevor inspected his henchmen’s collection, taking from them the choicest for himself, leaving them the rag-tag leftovers.

Judith and Ruth might as well have been twins, but they were inseparable friends. Both wore plaits and were Wednesday Addams lookalikes down to the black sweater and white blouse. They had planned this since they knew there was to be a lolly-scramble. Bags were not allowed but they had bags secured under their skirts that could be filled from their pockets. They picked up anything and everything with the plan to sort them into lots so that at a later time they could profit be selling them to sugar-dependent kids.

Oscar was the sly one of the school. He had his lackeys too, these two he had caught cheating about their homework so he had threatened to report them. That was ages ago but the pair were still in his ‘employ’ mostly doing as they were told.  No way was Oscar going to be seen demeaning himself by collecting lollies when his men were going to do it for him! He just stood there looking for the areas where the lollies were the most plentiful and by a wave of the arm, directed his men there. He allowed his men to keep ten percent!

The rest were the run-of-the-mill kid-on-the-block, trying to collect on a random basis as much as they could, with no intention to be fair. Some more eager than others. Of course they had to keep out of the way of Trevor’s henchmen and Oscar’s lackeys. If they found themselves in the way, boy or girl they were elbowed away!

Did anyone learn from this? No, the headmaster puffed his chest at being seen as generous, although it was the school committee that raised the funds. He thought the distribution was even and fair. Neither kids nor parents noticed the agendas of the greedy, sly, or shrewd, and none cared about the less-confident. The lolly-scramble was deemed a success, of course it was!

RA The Life Changer

Plans were well in hand for Henry and Mags to return to Africa when Henry took crook! It was found that he had a hole in his liver was caused by an amoebic abscess and after about a cupful of gunk had been drained off, expensive imported drugs cleaned him up.

A bit over a year later, another opportunity presented itself and again preparations to leave were well in hand. Mags’ shoulders became sore, and later her wrists, which she presumed were caused by working to tidy the garden and house for the tenant who was to look after the property. Despite Henry’s massaging with liniment, the pain did not pass, so off she went to see a locum doctor who prescribed painkillers. She wasn’t ever keen taking pills, so visited a physio who’s massaging did no better than Henry’s but he suggested she should have a blood test. Both of them had blood tests in preparation for the new assignment so his advice was ignored.

Henry was focused on his new assignment so Mags did not want to put a damper on things but she found that at the airport in Johannesburg she couldn’t lift her suitcase. Adrenalin took over as the pair settled back into Makumira and reacquainting with old friends. There was some sadness too because of those lost during the past two years. But soon it was obvious to Henry that his massaging and the liniment, which was fast running out, was doing no good at all. Not knowing what was wrong and the fact the Mag’s condition was in a steady decline, was spiritually draining and the cause was elusive. Almost daily he wrote. ‘Mags not that good, managed to get her to take Lucozade before her pills!’

Field Rep Fausta, who was a long-time local, suggested going to her doctor who ran a Clinic on the West side of town, so later in the week, Henry took Mags to see him. The doctor was pleasant and helpful and recommended a blood test, saying he wanted to check her ESR because that would tell if she had gout or rheumatoid arthritis. Fortunately the doctor had worked for some time in the UK and had seen the symptoms before. The blood test showed her ESR was very high, so she was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. His prescribed treatment was paracetamol ‘whenever there was pain’ and a weekly injection of penicillin. Penicillin powder injected into her bum cheek! They were painful because the powder did not flow and sometimes blocked the needle! Her pain remained constant and the penicillin did no good at all! Later it was shown that this was inappropriate treatment but Henry and Mags went with it as there was little alternative at the time. Mags lost her appetite so had no energy and Henry took over the cooking and household tasks. Mostly she could only manage a bite or two, she lost mobility, humour and was in a sorry state, dominated by pain.

To some extent the African doctors could be forgiven for their lack of knowledge on treatments, because the disease affects people in either Northern or Southern latitudes, so they would come across it rarely, or never. But after a time and no improvement, Henry and Mags decided to try the small hospital up Haile Selassie Road, it was truly upmarket compared to the previous one. The young woman doctor was thorough and prescribed aspirin and steroids, which had an effect on the pain but the steroids caused Mags to balloon, and she didn’t return to her to her old self. The doctors then tried different rates of aspirin, which is anti-inflammatory but not strongly so, and they took her off the steroids. Just about every joint, usually several at once, even rib cartilage, had a turn at swelling and the pain drove Mags to her bed! After one particularly terrible night, Henry carried her down the stairs, because she could not walk! At the hospital a wheel chair took her to the ward where intravenous diclofenic had her walking again after an hour or so but Henry decided it was time to return home. Insurance covered the cost of business class fares on Singapore Airlines, pity they couldn’t enjoy it!

They were unable to go home exactly because their house was rented out, so they stayed with Mags’ sister. Their GP referred her to a rheumatologist in Timaru and that first injection cost $90! After Tanzanian prices the cost seemed high, but the pair were more focused on pain reduction than worrying about the cost! That one injection made a huge difference! A treatment programme based on methotrexate was begun with improvement up and down, but mainly up. Henry was sort of in limbo with not much to do now that Mags was in a safe place and on track. He stayed for two months to be sure of the recovery, then returned to Tanzania. After four months convalescing, her condition had settled enough to be confident to join Henry. Still she needed some cortisone injections and her appetite did not fully return but she was steadily recuperating. The main drug methotrexate, she called, ‘A miracle.’  Her rheumatologist? He was, ‘The miracle-worker!’

Frankly Mags could not wait to return home at the end of Henry’s contract and within the hospital system she was put under the care of her miracle rheumatologist who made refinements to her dosage and attended to her flare-ups. Sometimes RA goes into remission, but not so for Mags, sometime the flare-ups were severe when she needed another injection. But researchers continue to improve or formulate new drugs.  Her miracle-worker was always looking for her best treatment, and he tested he regularly her. With most of her joints still sore, she qualified for the expensive self-injection, Enbrel, which has worked wonders. Still there are ‘tide out’ days and pain with stiffness, probably due to damage caused in the early stages. But overall, she is in good condition!

Thank goodness for the miracle-worker and for modern medicine! In their home district, they knew of a local farmer who had the disease and he was always poorly, in great pain despite gold injections. He tried all sorts of treatments, all worked out to be unsatisfactory. There is no cure, but the drugs can keep the symptoms largely at bay and quality of life is much better.

Contracting rheumatoid arthritis was a game changer but luckily for Mags it is not game over!