Now let’s see the biggest winner and biggest loser after the historic American elections. In my opinion the biggest winner is Kamila Harris and the biggest loser is Boris and The U.K. at large. Kamala is enroute to become not only the first female president of the USA but also the second black president. She is likely to take over from Biden if he retires or win the elections in 2032.The President Elect and Kamala have nothing against the UK but they will never forget Boris’ outrageous comments made about Barrack after he took out a sculpture of Winston Churchill in the Oval Office. They were deplorable, he remarked that Obama’s actions was a “symbol of the part-Kenyan president’s ancestral dislike of the British empire”.
Biden’s will seek first to work with Europe & NATO as well as rejoining the Paris accord. That said Britain will be at the end of the line and there is now seldom chances of securing a free Trade Deal with their biggest ally. The Bien-Harris presidency is more likely to be two terms hence two terms of tense relationship with the UK. Unless there is a change of government in the UK. If people had voted for Joe Swinson things would have been different but she was humiliated by losing the elections as well as her parliamentary seat. Joe wanted to cancel Brexit. It’s now water under the bridge and meanwhile I hope Boris and Biden can work together collaboratively since they both believe in Nato and the Climate Accord.
Russia proclaims to have eventually found the vaccine for the Covid-19. The vaccine supposedly boost the immune system for a period of two years. Russia has likened their successes to the Soviet launch of the world’s first satellite in 1957. Hence the vaccine is called Sputnik V. Competition for prestige between Capitalist & Communist continues & happens to bring the best of each other. If you ask me it doesn’t matter who wins the race to find the vaccine as long as the world is made safe again. Like Deng Xiaoping said it doesn’t matter wether the cat is black or white as long as it catches mice. Man like Fidel Castro would have been very proud. Actually Castro had good intentions apart from totalitarianism-adherence to early Marxism, he was against developed nations plundering the resources of poor nations particularly against USA big Cooperations plundering the resources of Cuba. When ever a disaster occurred anywhere in the world Cuba was among the first to deploy top trained nurses and doctors. Personally I had the opportunity to be taught in high school in Zimbabwe by some very talented teachers trained in Cuba. Fidel didn’t want nothing in return for his help. Unlike China a rogue communist nation who seeks to plunder the resources of the developing nations, disguised capitalism.
Everything seems to be back to the norm However keep the social distancing & follow the precautionary measures
Who is winning during the unabated pandemic? Also what have we learnt from the pestilence? The devil is winning right and many have succumbed to various fears. Fear happens to be the most effective weapon used by the devil. The devil uses fear to thwart our hope and limit our successes. The demise of hope consequently affects our faith. Certainty is one of the fundamental needs in our lives and without it man wanders and wavers. When one’s mind wanders it gives the devil a perfect opportunity for the devil to strike and colonise it. Just like a flock of sheep the sheep which wanders from the flock is an easy target for the ravenous wolves.
The devil lives in the minds of those who fear him. For instance this pandemic has particularly instilled the fear of poverty, ill health, the fear of old age & death. The greatest weapon being poverty which discourages people from thinking and makes them easy targets. ill health also discourages people from thinking. Diseases are arguably effective weapons of the devil. Wars, pandemics, epidemics Natural disasters and phenomenons alike instills fear in human minds.
The antidote to fear is to have a peace of mind and unwavering faith as well as mental fortitude coupled with a sound independent thought. If fear replaces courage and hope it is more contagious and deleterious than the Covid-19 virus. For many only the discovery of a vaccine can restore their certainty. Until then urnwavering faith is the fundamental principle to overcome the virus.
⁃ Forgiveness is a fundamental virtue in life. When you forgive it gives you a platform to start anew. When you forgive you draw a line and tell yourself that from now on ain’t no going back and letting go of the past disturbing events. However it is inevitable that you will be reminded of the past. It is an adage that you can’t change the past but can change the future. For progressive people, dwelling on the past is a waste of time and time is a limited resource, between stimulus and response you will always choose to bury the hatchet.
⁃ The widely known epitome of forgiveness is Jesus Christ for he forgave all the sinners including those who crucified him. He said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).
⁃ Since I was birthed in Southern Africa I would be remiss if I didn’t look at political examples of two man in particular namely Nelson Mandela and Robert Mugabe, both man were freedom fighters as well as first black Presidents for their countries- South Africa & Zimbabwe respectively. The man were seen as terrorist by the white settlers, and some whites around the world at large were programmed to fear them. Magret Thatcher the then Prime Minister of Great Britain disliked Mandela.
⁃ Before independence in 1980 Zimbabwe was called Rhodesia and on 18 April 1980 on his inauguration Mugabe declared that: “If you were my enemy now you can’t avoid the love that binds me to you and you to me”. I think this would have been a breath of fresh air to all the white people who listened to his words. It was a moment of great relief and jubilation. For a few though it was a moment of worry and dubitation. In my days I new Mugabe as a childless man but he was married to his first wife Sally until her untimely death in 1992. The word on the street was he had been castrated by Ian Douglas Smith while serving a 10 year prison sentence. His only child with Sally was said to have died in Ghana, he had succumbed to Cerebral malaria. Given what I thought he went through, he was a hail fellow with Christ like love for forgiving the man who had emasculated him. Four years later he got married again to his young secretary who miraculously gave birth in the eyes of many. Some speculated that he wasn’t emasculated but went under the knife while in prison- as a life saving measure a bit of his manhood was chopped off not castrated. He still had the bitterness within him which was revealed in 2000 by the seizure of white owned farms after the white farmers showed an increasing support for the opposition party. Also his bitterness was exasperated by the disagreement with the British government. In a reverse fortune one of the richest countries in Africa became one of the poorest before he was forcibly removed from power in 2017. Mugabe forgave and went back on his word. Mandela once said Zimbabwe was a star in Africa and then the sun came out, the sun being South Africa after becoming a democratic country in 1994.
⁃ In stark contrast Nelson Mandela forgave the people who had imprisoned him for 27 years. Before he came to power in 1993 he was awarded a joint Nobel Peace Prize in 1993, for his work with the then incumbent President of South Africa, Frederik Willem de Klerk, towards a peaceful termination of the apartheid regime. He embraced his enemies with unfeigned love. He even asked them to help him run the country which was inconceivable. He had nothing but courtesy and charm wether dealing with the former colonial masters or the black folk. He even allowed a whites only town called Orania in South Africa to continue to exists, were the spirit of apartheid is conserved. The town was established in 1991 when he was still in prison. In the process he won the hearts of many across the globe. He went on to serve one term as the President and handed over a well run robust economy. Some commentators say he did what was necessary at the time but a total freedom for the Black people wasn’t achieved. Mugabe argued that Mandela had become too much of a Saint at the expense of the black South Africans.
⁃ After both man passed away, due to Mandela’s long suffering and Christ like forgiveness he was labelled a giant of peace until his death in 2013. Yet Mugabe died as a nonentity in many’s eyes. So going forwards following Mandela’s path is a wiser decision. The path may have beclouded the majority left behind but that can be easily addressed by tarmacking it and make sure everyone has a clear vision going forwards. People across the World often forget that to build a sustainable future social equity is a key aspect. Going forwards there should be no discrimination based on gender, race and creed whatsoever. We can’t dwell in the past but it takes both parties to work collaboratively to build the future from an equal footing. Parents stop programming your children to embrace racism. I know it’s hard to erase racism like the mother language particularly in adults, you might learn a different language and speak it eloquently but you will never forget your first language. However choose not to use it.
Some may say Trump is seeking to gain support from people of different faiths- the Democrats will certainly see it that way. On Friday he declared that churches and other places of worship should reopen and regarded them as essential. To some he has a point because if other businesses including liquor stores have been deemed essential why not churches and religious gatherings alike. He explained that the leaders will have to make the final judgements paying closer attention to the precautionary measures. However some faith leaders including Rev. Jesse Jackson called for churches to remain closed. In other words man like Jesse don’t regard churches and places of worship as essential. Prolly politically they are reluctant to endorse Trump’s policies. Anyhow there is a risk of members getting too excited and overlooking the measures with the notion that the Lord will be the amour against any weapon or diseases. Thus far it has been proved that pandemics are beyond the power of any mortal man, faith and Devine healing. Faiths right now are alluding to the fact that it’s God’s will and it shall come to pass. It’s yet another chapter in the book of life. Where are those who claim to heal the sick on television for all to see? They are cautious and rather agreeing that it’s God’s will. The other thing he did which was right is to call upon all religious leaders from different faiths not only Christians. However some people are speculating that he was reluctant to call upon mosques to reopen. Since American constitution is a secular document it does claim any particular religion or creed as the nation’s symbolic faith, though it’s citizens are predominantly Christians. From my opinion faith is the key component rather than religion. They have been very powerful religious leaders from different faiths whose profundity and impact is remarkable. Think of Ghandi- he brought the British Empire to its knees by the power of faith yet he was a simple man in nappies feeding off from his followers. Mohammed love him or hate him his influence was profound yet he had small means being born poor in Arabia. He was loved and he is still loved. Companions were willing to lose life and limbs to protect him, for instance during the battle of Uhud where one of his companions took a barrage of arrows in his back shielding the Prophet. However his religion is now marred by fanatics who believe that killing is virtue. According to Napoleon Hill, the power of faith, love and sex emotions is unmatched and if used well can achieve things beyond comprehension. Unfeigned faith can overcome anything and can make dreams come true.
On the 3rd of June 2019 I took a train from Leeds Train Station at 09:16 and arrived at Kings Cross Station in London around 12. Kings Cross is next to the Eurostar services at St Pancras. The Eurostar train was due to set off at 16:31 and I needed to crossover at least two hours before my train was scheduled to leave. In the train I accidentally ran over a teddy bear which belonged to a little boy following his mother holding her hand and dragging the teddy with the other. The boy was upset and his facial expression terrified me. He was like the creepy kid, Damien from the Omen. The son of the Devil. The kid’s mien or appearance was intimidating. “You are mean, you killed him now he wants your heart” said the boy with the strangest look on his face. The mother interjected, “I will buy you another, Roland, it was an accident now pick him up and let’s go”. The boy could speak English very well but the mother sounded French.
At 19:47 the train arrived at Gare du Norde and it was still as bright as the day. Vigilant as always I dashed to check-in at my hotel which happens to be within the vicinity of Gare du Norde (train station). Since the sun was still out when I got to the hotel. I could have gone out but I decided to have a moment of peace after unpacking my travelling bag. I haven’t forgotten anything, I thought and I gave myself thumbs up. I had downloaded my train tickets as well as the tennis tickets into my electronic wallet on my mobile phone. Also I had not forgotten to pack my wheelchair battery charger.
After I finished unpacking and after using the bathroom to freshen up, I noticed that my battery charger plug was squashed. I couldn’t fathom how that had happened because I always had my bag on my lap throughout the journey. May be I ran over it after I unpacked it, I thought. However I couldn’t recall my chair going over an obstacle.
I was beating my brains, restless I was, trying to find a solution to my predicament. Man that would be a travesty if I go back home prematurely, I thought. Worse more the hotel staff were not proactive in trying to help to address my dilemma. All I needed to know at least, was the directions to the nearest electronic shop. However it was my problem not their problem. My battery was only one bar down out of 5 and I presume that one bar has a 5 miles range. That being said I knew I had enough to sustain my travels for three days before the problem became more critical. What if I order a new battery charger from France, I thought. Thereafter I searched for an Alber Adventure charger on my phone internet. Disappointedly I couldn’t see any battery chargers being sold separately, the only option was to buy the whole dan battery. The company is called All-Batteries based in Lyon, France which presented me with yet another conundrum, what if the battery don’t get delivered in time? I thought. When I have ordered something in the past I always chose the option for a faster delivery- normally a one day delivery service is provided when the orders are placed before a certain time. Worryingly, neither this option was provided nor the estimated time of delivery. For all I knew it could have been delivered when I’m back at home.
The worrisome thoughts were ruining my plans for my holidays. However, I decided to carry on with my holidays using my wheelchair sparingly trying to make my remaining four bars last.
The following morning I decided to go to Gare de I’Est which is about 8 minutes walk from my hotel. Since this was my third time to Paris I was familiar with the route having used it before to go to Roland Garros. I took the immediate left from my hotel and rolled down the busy sidewalk towards Gare de I’Est. Paris is always a busy city at all times, no wonder it’s one of the most visited cities in the world. According to Lonely Planet in 2017 it was ranked as number 3 most visited city with 17.4 million visitors a year. There was throngs of people some in groups and some as lone travellers, many were pulling luggage simultaneously some were merely carrying back packs, exhibiting itinerant characteristics. Due to the sheer volume of the pedestrians they didn’t all fit on the pavements therefore some people were walking alongside the road edges. My path was paved with a procession of people, mainly tourists and a modicum of locals. As I approached Gare de I’Est the streets were slightly becoming less congested, to my relief.
Gare de I’Est
Similar to Gare du Nord, Gare de I’Est is also an international train terminus, with trains to Germany as well as local destinations. From my previous visits to Paris, this is where I boarded bus number 32 which goes all the way to Roland Garros (the tennis grounds), approximately an hour’s drive by bus. It was still early hours, there was even less activity around the corner when I turned left, the Chinese restaurant was still shut and there was hardly any activity in the adjacent Burger King. Across the road to the far left the bus was waiting, filling up slowly. After I got onto the bus it set off a few minutes later.
When I am abroad I prefer using public transport because it’s like a priceless tour. When the bus got to the Effel Tower, almost half way to my destination, it was announced that the bus will be terminating there. The passengers were informed to wait for the next bus number 32 which was going all the way to my destination. Now this would have been cool for me to tour around the Effel Tower without worries but the thought of conserving my battery was still lingering in my mind. In spite of this, I decided to cross the road and mingle with other throngs of tourists. Alas, getting there seemed circuitous and far, I had to go up a further, approximately 50 meters to get to the traffic lights to cross the road and come down a similar distance to get to the Effel Tower. Having not seen this side of the tower before it was worthwhile to see it. At tourist hot spots people tend to trust complete strangers to take a photo of them using their phones or cameras. “Excuse me … can you take a family photo of us please” a lady tourists asked one of the vendors. After he snapped a photo of them I asked him to take me one posing like I was touching the tip of the Tower. To my relief he handed me back my camera. “What if he refuses to give me back my camera” I thought to myself before I asked him to take a photo of me.
Afterwards I made the circuitous route to get back to the bus stop. The distance from Porte de Auteuil (where the bus terminates), to the tennis stadium is about 7 minutes. Thankfully Roland Garros offers free accessible rides to the wheelchair users as well as the physically challenged.
At Roland Garros I was really trying hard not to waste my battery charge nevertheless, some trips were unavoidable. I was glad to get back to my hotel having used only one bar. Therefore I had 3 bars left enough to go back home if my battery issue wasn’t resolved. I had 4 days of tennis left, yet one trip to tennis required at least one bar of battery. On one hand, part of me wanted to prematurely return to the U.K. or simply stay put in the hotel room to save my battery, on the other hand I wanted to carry on with my plans with the hope that my battery would be delivered in time. That said I continued to go to the tennis games.
On Wednesday i made the same trip and better yet, the bus got me there Straightaway without any changes. When the bus arrived at Porte de Auteuil it was raining. Right at the terminus was a French Open Tennis Stall (Le Boutique) selling tennis accessories. “Do you know if there will be any play today?” I asked with great concern. Disappointedly I was told that the order of play for that day had been cancelled. So I wasted my battery for nothing, I thought. Without further dilly dallying I waited for my bus to go back. This gave me the opportunity to go back to my hotel during the business hours.
The penultimate stop to Gare de I’Est is a Parisian neighbourhood called Château d’Eau which is predominantly a black African neighbourhood. Though I saw a few hotels around that area including the Ibis Hotel which I considered booking in 2016, there was less tourists activity. I for one I hardly saw any tourists. I wondered why?. However its a very vibrant neighbourhood often with touts and street vendors.
In the area cheap restaurants are commonplace mostly selling African cuisines with menus on their windows showing enticing colourful roasted chicken. The area is also characterised by cheap convenient stores, some Cinemas and theatres with the latter attracting cool, hip youths.
When i got back to the hotel I started using my crutches to save my wheelchair battery for crucial trips to go outside my room. The following day on Thursday I made a similar trip to Roland Garros. Where every step I took was circumspective and cautious. Though my battery was on 3 bars, I didn’t want it to go down to 2 bars and start panicking- preoccupied by the thought that my chair could suddenly stop at any time in the middle of Paris.
After tennis I made my usual trip and when I got off the bus at Gare de I’Est I thought of withdrawing some Euros from a cash machine with the anticipation that my battery would be delivered on Friday, so I could get around more. As I approached the cash machine there was hardly any soul about. With the chilling atmosphere, it felt like I was a cowboy on a horse riding into a notorious wild west town infested with robbers. Maybe people avoid this cash machine for a reason, am I being watched? I thought to myself. The place gave me the creeps however it was around the corner from a seemingly busy Burger King, so with a benefit of doubt I went on to withdraw 300€.
Thereafter I went to seat in a Chinese restaurant across the road and adjacent to Burger King. The food was dirt cheap having said that I was tempted to get something to eat as well as something to drink. After eating I didn’t want to leave before using the toilet lest I wet my pants or worse so I was in the restaurant for a considerable amount of time.
Finally I went to the toilet and I left the restaurant after about 45 minutes. It was around 8pm but the sun was still shining coupled with bustling pavements. However immediately after I came out of the restaurant there was a bit less people outside. Therefore I upped my speed weaving through people who were in front of me. Guess who I passed, it was Roland the creepy kid holding his mom’s hand and holding the same teddy with the other hand. He was also wearing wearing the same t-shirt he was wearing when I first saw him. When I was passing them I said hi to him and he said “I hate you”. I continued to head to my hotel. As I was nearing my hotel I could see throngs of people, some moving and some simply idling by the shopfronts.
One of the off-licences had given me free water a day before because it wasn’t accessible for me to edge closer to the card machine. Having said that I was in a familiar territory and within the vicinity of the hotel I was staying at. “Excusez moi” I repeatedly said as I was weaving through the crowds. In the moment and before I knew it I had lightly bumped into someone, not serious I thought. Woe the guy was miffed. Jumping up and down exhibiting as much pain and annoyance as he could he uttered a tirade of aggressive words in French. Even I who neither speaks nor comprehend the language very well, got the context of what he was saying from the bits I picked up. “je ne me (I assumed it means, I don’t) … handicapé (this was straight forward, handicapped)… baise toi (from my previous visits I knew this was swearing)”. Putting this together he must have said, “I don’t care if you are a disabled person, I will f**k you up” I thought. The guy who was standing in front of me was seemingly calming him down. I presume he said “just leave it mate, he is a disabled person”. Again I only understood the word handicapé. When the guy I had supposedly bumped into, seemed to have calmed down I said to him “pardon” meaning sorry in French. As I was trying to move off, to my annoyance the guy who had just been calming down his friend put his foot in front of my pathway deliberately. Maybe this whole thing was a set up, I thought. “Excusez moi, je veux passer” I said, meaning excuse me I want to pass. At this point I was trying to speak french as much as possible trying to make them think I was from France or that I had connections there. However he remained put whilst his friend I thought he was calming, opened the bag fastened to my chair and started cherry picking the Euro notes from my bag. I wanted to scream and call for help but I couldn’t find my voice when I needed it most, it felt like my tongue was bound. Fear and fretfulness of equal measure had dumfounded me. My deepest fear was being assaulted and I was hesitant to speed up and run over the guy in front lest I aggrevate the assailants. As the wise man wants said it’s not the snake bite that hurts us it’s chasing after it that drives the poison to the heart. If I had tried to run over one of them or tried to resist they could have left me badly hurt. Looking into their eyes I certainly felt that I was in the presents of ruthless opportunistic thugs with no remorse and hatred running through their veins like lava. When he had grabbed the notes the boy ran like a thief he was, hoping and skipping across the road he disappeared into the crowds on the other side of the road. The boy who was standing in my pathway saw that his friend was done robbing me blind, with his searching and crafty eyes he saw a phone peeping out of my jean pocket. Breathing heavily as if his lungs were labouring redying to take off. He pulled the phone out of the pocket and ran as fast as he could following his mate. Along the way he kind of stumbled into a woman with a push chair but regained his balance and got away. It all happened so fast, despite the bustling streets, no one came to my rescue. Roland and his mom must have passed by too when I was getting ganked. Anyhow Roland would have enjoyed the moment or could have fuelled the fire if given a chance. Remember he wanted me to loose my heart remember. What happened to Paris, the city of romance, I thought.
To my immense relief, they didn’t snatch my camera because I had the strap tied to my chair and the camera itself was hidden between my legs upside down, all they could see was the tripod attached to it. Broken in mind, spirit and body I pulled myself by my bootstraps and continued to go to my hotel which was just around the corner. Physically untouched but feeling victimised and sorrowful I walked into the foyer of the hotel. “What’s wrong” the receptionist asked. Before I answered, “Excusez moi Monsieur, Voulez-vous de l’aide…?” A homely black dude who was following me interjected as he was standing by the entrance of the hotel, on one hand he was holding a plastic bag and on the other hand he was clutching a long baguette with his armpit. I retorted “je ne parle pas français”, breaking my neck trying to picture his face. Again I was making the most of the little French I know. After the mugging I couldn’t trust nobody, I was in a foreign land where I didn’t know who to trust. The thought of being victimised again was cataclysmic. My body language showed him that I wasn’t interested in what he was saying. Though he asked me if I needed any help, I told him that I can’t speak French. What if he wants a piece of me, I thought. I wasn’t rude at all, the rapacious ruffians had made me feel like a free pizza on the streets of Paris. The homely fella eventually left, good riddance I thought.
Then I turned my attention to the Hotel receptionist, “I have just been mugged in broad day light”, I said incredulously. “I forgot to warn you, the area is not as safe as before Mr Max, you need to be careful” said the receptionist with a French accent.
I knew Paris was getting bad especially after the notable mugging of Kim Kadarshian in 2016. Some people could say she asked for it after flaunting her 3,5 million euro ring on Instagram. Few days later her luxurious apartment in the affluent area of Medeline was rummaged by a group of thugs putting on police gear, who got away with 12 million dollars worth of jewellery.
That said anything can happen in Paris even the roving and uncanny eyes of Monalisa couldn’t stop a thief from snatching her from the Louvre.
However it never dawned on me that one day I would also fall victim to the Parisian thugs, worse more I was victimised by my own kind. How could they target a disabled guy, I wondered.
I waited a while at the reception thinking that the receptionist would call the police however and annoyingly he didn’t seem to be in a rush to call the police. “I will call the police for you in the morning” he said as he was helping other customers. “Why not today bro” I retorted showing increasing frustration. Then to my further annoyance and incredulity I was told that the police stations had closed. “I thought police stations in Paris open 24/7, throughout day and night including weekends”, I remarked with a crestfallen voice.
All my tickets including the travel and tennis ones were saved on my phone electronically. Having said that it felt like I had lost not only my phone but also my wallet. I was restless trying to figure out how I was going to recover my tickets. Boom! It hit me I could access all my tickets in my hotmail account. Therefore I used the hotel computer to access my emails so that I could download my tickets coupled with printing them before going up to my room to retire at last. When I got to my room I turned on the Tv hoping to check the time and to my dismay I couldn’t see it. Very strange I thought. It was right there when I felt the agony of loosing my phone like I had lost part of me. All of a sudden I had no concept of time. Looking out through my hotel window, facing Gare Du Nord was my only hope, at least to discern between night and day. Other than that there was nothing much to read. I have never been to prison but it felt like that. In prisons they do have wardens to wake them up though, whereas the hotel I was staying at didn’t offer such a service.
That said I relied on my internal body clock, normally I do wake up around 06:00 when I’m away from home and I hoped I would do such that. The following morning I woke up to what looked like the early hours of the day, to my great relief. After my morning preparations I dashed to the reception to ask for the directions to the police station.
Woe was me, remember I was using my chair sparingly but I had to unavoidably run an errand to the police station. I crossed my fingers that it wouldn’t be far away however as I was going there it was increasingly and annoyingly further than I thought. When I finally got there still on three bars I was relieved. The opportunistic thugs had rattled my cage and made me paranoid so on my way I was constantly looking over my shoulder to check if anyone was following me. Eventually I reached my destination but the place didn’t look like a police station whatsoever and the entrance to access the building was out of sight. The place looked more like a back street garage, to my assurance a police van drove out of the place. “Excusez- moi, where is the police station” I asked expecting him to point out the entrance to me. He didn’t respond to me instead he parked his van on the side of the road, afterwards he beckoned me to follow him swiftly. At the back I saw a police man smoking standing by what seemed like the entrance, beside the stairs there was a platform lift. While he was putting out his cigarette dabbing it on the rail of the lift, “pas de caméras autorisées” exclaimed he. Meaning no cameras allowed. I was wearing the camera on my neck and I was really looking forward to take some photos to use on my blog. Also to show unassailable evidence to the doubting Thomases. Therefore I never took any photos within the vicinity of the police station. After about 30 minutes I was done dealing with the French police. It was difficult to communicate for neither the police on duty nor me could understand each other well. That said it was a struggle to understand each other, going to lengths at times to try and put points across. Eventually I used the one word sentences coupled with a lot of emphasis using gestures, I found this helpful particularly in Taiwan, Hong Kong and Portugal.
I was given some documents which briefly reported the robbery incident. However it was the proof that I needed. “Merci beaucoup“, I said to the police officer as I was preparing to leave. Merci beaucoup means thank you very much, I suppose I had to show my appreciation for his patience to try and understand my story. Thereafter he called another officer and summoned him to escort me out of the building. Disappointedly the platform lift outside didn’t work. I was insistently pressing the down-button to no avail. Alarmingly I was supposed to go to Roland Garros to watch tennis starting at 12:00. I had no watch on me but according to the clock in the police station the time was 09:30 when I left. The journey from Gare Du Nord to the tennis usually takes one hour. However I wasn’t going to take the usual route lest I get victimised again by the same folk. Having said that I didn’t know how long it would take using an alternative route. My mind was also preoccupied by the battery dilema. This was all getting too much for me. To my great relief, the elevator issue was swiftly sorted. One of the policeman coincidentally happened to be a technician. I have so much respect and great admiration for the police but all that had warned after the mugging in Paris. Thanks to the policeman who came to my rescue and restored my admiration for the Parisian police. In the elevator I was holding my breath lest it stalls again. When it hit the floor I again breathed a heavy sigh of great relief. Again I exclaimed merci beaucoup to express my appreciation. Thereafter I was ready to leave la poste de police, the police station. I turned right onto a now busier residential area with restaurants on the ground floor already with a significant number of customers seated outside. It must have been the lovely weather. After crossing over a road I then turned left, at that moment I saw two people coming towards me. One was wearing a beige tight fitting suit like a jacket potato or like his second skin the other was simply wearing a blue trousers and a white shirt albeit looking very smart. As these gentle man drew closer I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing, their faces looked familiar resembling the guys who had mugged me. It can’t be I told myself since the gentlemen looked respectable far from the street wise dressed dudes that ruffled me up. I was fantastically terrified. As I was preparing for the worst, the gentlemen passed by in harmony. At the same time I also passed by disguising my suspicion. Suddenly an amazing feeling of relief swept over me. Maybe it’s not the same people, maybe I’m now schizophrenic, I thought. Of course the other action to take would have been to turnaround and report to the police what I had just witnessed but since I wasn’t certain I decided to continue going ahead.
When I arrived at the Hotel the time was 09:50. Stéphanie was the one at the reception doing her morning shift. “How did it go” she asked. “It all went fine and they gave me some documents that will help me to make a claim from my travel insurance company” I retorted. She had been told what had happed to me and she speculated that I got targeted because of pthe designer clothes that I wear.
Loud and Extravagant
To some extent, I guess she had a point, didn’t she. However on the night of the mugging I was simply wearing a Lacoste light jacket and a pair of old jeans . I wasn’t as loud and extravagant as the expression of freedom by the Americans or dripping with bling as they say. I know I have always had a passion for elegance and fine dressing not bling-bling. Particularly now that I’m disabled I always make sure that I’m on point at all times. On a couple of occasions I have gone out to town dressed homely. The first time a young lady gave me a pound like I was a street beggar, I tried to give her back the money and to explain my position and that I had just been at Leeds City Council that morning for my internship. Alas, she wasn’t having none of it and told me to keep it as I was need. What a setback, she made me feel like a charity case yet I found her attractive and would have asked her out given a chance. On another occasion some lads offered to buy me dinner when I turned down the offer they insisted on giving me some cash. Charity which turned into an argument that I knew I will never win against seemingly drunk folk. I ended up taking their money, 10 pounds it was. Since these two incidents I like to dress well to make a point lest people see me as a charity case
After asking for the alternative travel route to get to Roland Garros. I took bus number 43/26 to Gare St Lazarre and connected to bus number 32.
On Thursday coming back from Roland Garros I took bus number 52 from porte d’Auteuil. I got into the bus and parked my wheelchair facing the rest of the passengers. As it was around 18:00 pm most of the passengers were going home from work. As usual people in public transport tend to speak to one another. I started talking to a woman who was seating adjacent to me. We were conversing in English when one French guy started insulting me. Persecuting me for being British. “You zzz English are z’idiots, you think you better… Go back to your country”, said he with a French accent. When I looked up to see who was insulting me, I noticed that it was a black dude looking like he was under the influence of some sort. This guy surely is not coming from work I thought to myself. The lady seated adjacent to me advised me to ignore him. I ignored him as advised however he continued his unabated rancorous attacks. He deplored Brexit and he hated the fact that the British once defeated Napoleon. The guy was annoyingly rude and his vitriolic rigmarole was repulsive. His acrimony was beyond bad banter and frivolity. He was acting like a brainwashed fella forgetting that his skin was black like mine. It wasn’t my first time to be jeered and smeared at by a fellow African brother in France. My sister as well once told me that she was treated like dirt by certain black French women when she went there for her holidays. From this perspective I don’t get the beef between black French & black British particularly of African descent. it’s like a fight over who had a better colonial master. Similarly the then President of Mozambique Samora Machel claimed that some people ignorantly laugh at his country because they were colonised by a poor European nation, Portugal. It’s like the Scramble For Africa by European nations in the Colonial Era has ironically turned into a Scramble For Superior Colonial Master by the Africans. Which supports the South African politician Julius Malema’s claim that the colonisers made Africans or other races in general hate each other. However I have also met some cool and easy going black French people.
Somewhere in the Paris labyrinth the bus stopped and to my great relief the patriot got off the bus. He was out of the bus but his devilish eyes, full of hate and resentment were still focusing on me as the bus moved off. At that moment in time I was compelled to give the guy the ‘up yours’ gesture. It seemed more fitting because from my understanding the gesture is said to have its origins from the time the English were victorious over the French in ‘The Hundred Years War’ with their highly technical longbows at the time. The V hand shape of the archers lining up their arrows became a battle gesture. As a double entendre, I acknowledged peace, the ‘V’ was used by the World War II allied forces. It was outrageously strange that the French dude was blathering about something which happened centuries ago. A history wonk.
The bus continued and I dropped off at Gare Du Norde, a 3 minutes walk away from the hotel I was staying at.
This did not only offer me a quick escape to a safe haven but also allowed me to save my battery. Nevertheless as soon as I got to the hotel, alarmingly my wheelchair battery went from three bars to two bars. This wasn’t good at all henceforth I was like slack-lining. I couldn’t risk using my chair any longer lest I run out of charge. It was better to reserve the two bars for the return journey even though I had three days of tennis left.
When I woke up the following morning on Friday I decided to call the reception to check wether the battery had been delivered. Without it I had made a conscious decision to ditch my holiday plans and reserve the remaining battery charge for the return journey. I was due to return home on Sunday afternoon after the men’s final game. Therefore I needed more battery for two more trips to Roland Garros. Particularly the gentlemen’s semi final on Friday and the gentlemen’s final on Sunday.
To my great delight I was told that my battery had been delivered. My delight though was soon dissolved after the concierge brought the battery to my room. To my horror the battery wasn’t compatible with my wheelchair. My joy abruptly turned into pain. It was a trip characterised by a morass of mishaps and misfortunes. Finding a way to solve the battery issue was still enigmatic.
I decided to take a nap. Sometimes focusing on the problem at hand doesn’t free up our minds to allow a ‘eureka moment’ or to allow the mind to come up with new bright ideas. After sleeping for about 30 minutes I felt relieved and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Straightaway from my bed i went to pick up the squashed plug and erected the plug’s prongs so that the outlet could grip them firmly. At first it didn’t work but I tried and tried again and eventually it worked, ‘eureka moment’. What if this is a temporary fix? I thought. I was even hesitant to take out the plug before charging the battery to it’s full capacity or for a considerable amount of time. To fully charge the battery takes about 5 hours but I couldn’t afford to wait for that long. With a renewed spirit I was itching to go and watch tennis and maybe explore more of Paris without limits.
The Influence of American Films
At 12 noon I left my hotel after arranging to return the futile battery which was delivered that morning. After about one hour I arrived at Roland Garros in time for the first semi-final tennis match. At the check-in point I was all smiles, “Sir you look a lot happy today” said the steward with an American accent. “Yeah I’m it’s all sorted” I retorted. I knew the Steward from Wednesday, she had escorted me to the stadium and I must have told her that I wasn’t able to charge my chair. Though she was French, the girl could speak good English with an American accent. I asked her if she had spent some time in America. To my incredulity she insisted that she had only visited America once and for a short stay. I farther asked her how she could manage to speak English so eloquently. “Oh thank you, I learnt English from watching American films and I watch a lot of films but I’m not great like British girls” said she modestly. The influence of the American TV around the Globe is quite remarkable. From my travels I have also met people who acknowledged that they had learnt how to speak English from watching American films.
After the second match of tennis I went around Roland Garros to see the invigorated quarter which has now become more environmentally friendly. The revamped and renamed court, Simmon- Mathieu was completed in March 2019 readying for the 2019 grand slam tournament starting in May. Even the main court which had hosted the semi-finals was likewise invigorated and was looking contemporary far from the tired looking amphitheatre like the historic Colosseum in Rome.
Coming from Simmon- Mathieu court I went to an area with lush greenery, I was inquisitive to see what was around there. The area is less frequented but I saw a guy who was holding what looked like a phone, he had a baguette, a glass of red wine and the ambience had a lingering aroma of weed. I had never seen anyone smoking weed before in France. Maybe it was for medicinal purposes, in 2013 I remember reading about France legalising medicine containing cannabis derivative. I’m sure he was breaking the law by smoking it. Macron, the President of France is against people smoking cannabis. The guy was friendly because he offered me a piece of his baguette. Maybe the offering is for me to keep my mouth shut, I thought. It was non of my business and snitches get stitches in the words of Ice Cube.
After seeing the revamped quarter I headed to my hotel. Rather than going straight to the hotel I enjoyed going around Paris in the late hours sight seeing and scouting for good vibes as well as looking for some good food. I ended up buying myself a duck confit, tender and delicious it was. I was also offered a small plate of sliced baguette. The French truly love their bread, I thought. Every time I dine in a French restaurant I have been offered a baguette as an appetiser. Seating on a table not far from me was a French dude presumably on a date dipping his piece of baguette in black coffee after slathering it with Jam and butter, gross I thought. Never will I do such a thing in the sight of my girlfriend I continued to ponder. However it seems to be the norm in France. Worse more he was picking the baguette straight from a table, no plate whatsoever. The French love their baguettes no wonder the boulangeries, bakeries are ubiquitous in France even at Roland Garros there were stalls flogging baguettes. From French kids to Stewards they be staffing chocolates in them to make them tasty. I also saw another person eating a baguette with cheese at my hotel. Having said that they seem to eat it with everything.
They should make the baguette the emblem of France like the maple leaf is for Canada. If you remember after the mugging the guy who followed me to my hotel was carrying one under his presumably sweaty armpit instead of carrying it in its special bag. This might sound strange but yes baguettes do have their own special bags owing to their cumbersome size and shape which makes them problematic to transport. I used to wonder what the tenuous narrow bags were for. Now I know from the day someone asked me if I wanted some at Roland Garros in 2016. “En voulez-vous” he said.
Finally A Brother Is Getting Lucky
On Saturday, though I didn’t have the ticket to watch the Ladies’ Final Match I had a grounds pass. The previous day at the revamped court, Simmon- Mathieu, I learnt that anyone with a grounds pass could access it. That said I had the opportunity to see the legends match taking place at the same time as the women’s final match. As enjoyable and fun as it was, i was looking forward to go back to my hotel and explore more of Paris as well as going to my favourite place to hang out. St Christopher’s Inn is a vibrant place, downstairs they have cheap hostels popular with young English speaking backpackers and tennis fans. I also like the food and the company better yet I acquainted with the manager, Barry O’Neil in 2016 and he is now more like a friend. Despite the psychedelic night shenanigans which happened to me in 2017 I wanted to show up and share my mugging story to spread awareness amongst the backpackers. However backpackers are less susceptible to mugging because they tend to go around in Wolfe packs. The hotel I was staying at is only a 3 minutes walk around the corner therefore from my previous visits to Paris I have made friendship in the inn. After I shared my story with the people Barry the manager was appalled, for a second I thought he would suggest bypassing the police and taking matters in our own hands. I wanted the thugs to be punished for what they did and for my ordeal. I had no phone and the inn was less busier than usual, a recipe for boredom. Thankfully a very beautiful young mixed race lady minced her way to me and asked me if I needed any help. Before answering her and before she introduced herself to me she asked me if I wanted to move to the less noisy part of the inn. “I will be too lonely there” I retorted. “Let’s go I will seat with you” she said. Finally a brother is getting lucky, I thought to myself. At the new table I learnt that she was called Maïssa. She was not only a beautiful young lady but also very talented. After listening to some samples of the music projects she was working on, I was mesmerised. She had the beautiful symmetrical face like Katie Perry and a voice like Amy Winehouse. Her voice, mellow and mellifluous flowed into my heart. My heart rejoiced and leaped forgetting all my problems. A true diva in the making. If her music was in English she would have been as big as Little Mix I tell you. When she finally announces herself on the Global stage I promise to sell my story.
On Sunday morning I woke up and packed my bags preparing to return home. I was so grateful that I had managed to get through to Sunday despite all the shenanigans that I went through. However my vacation wasn’t over yet. I still had a ticket to watch the gentlemen’s final. I made my journey now using the alternative route. I got there around 12 ish, when the women double’s final was in play first, before the gentlemen’s final around 3ish. Regrettably I wasn’t going to see much of the men’s final because my return train was due at 17:13 from Gare Du Norde train station and due to arrive in London, St Pancreas station at 18:32. To allow enough time to check-in for my train I needed to be at the station one hour before boarding. For that I needed to start making my way back to the check in for my train. Therefore straightaway after the women’s doubles final I went to porte d’Auteuil and took bus number 52 back to my hotel. By the time I got to the hotel, time was far spent, it was already 16:00 yet I needed to be at train station at that time. However I still had 13 minutes before my check-in time was overdue. After I collected my bag at the reception as rapidly as I could I made my way to the station. In the station I took a lift to the next floor for the the Eurostar check- in. When I immediately came out of the lift I saw someone wearing a Ralph Laurent woolly hat which looked exactly like mine. Which reminded me of my hat, I wasn’t wearing it but I had brought it with me on my holidays to conceal my disheveled big Afro. As a result that prompted me to check for mine before I checked-in for my train. I couldn’t find it. I must have forgotten it in one if the drawers, I thought. It was a very nice hat. It was a limited addition which prompted me to go back to the hotel to check it.
Unfortunately I was told that the cleaners had not handed it at the reception. “Well if you find it please post it to my home address” I said hurriedly on my way out. “Ok sir” he answered nodding his head while starring down at the paperwork on his desk. I rushed back to the train check-in. To my great relief there was still a considerable number of passengers waiting to go through on the standard premier queue and there was non at all the business premier queue. That said I straightway checked-in which allowed me to have a moment to catch my breath and to watch the tennis final in the lounge. Though the lounge had no screens showing the tennis match there were some tennis fans streaming the match on their lap top.
This time around I was happy to make my way home safe and sound. Despite the devastating mugging in Paris I embarked on further trips. However I learnt from the incident, it was a warning. As I said before with my faith I have guts over fear. In other words faith begets valour. Also I thrive on facing challenges otherwise my expeditions would have been monotonous and futile like a prisoner breaking big rocks into small rocks all day long.
First off I would like to express my utmost gratitude to the #NHS, all health workers around the world on a wider note. The same goes out to all the key workers charged with various tasks which directly or indirectly affects our well being. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for our amazing NHS. Like most of the critical Covid-19 patients I was put on a ventilator, gradually I managed to recover and now I’m making the most of life after head injury. Likewise NHS, health workers at large, they are playing a vital role to save lives during this pandemic. Let’s not kid ourselves thinking that everything will be back to the way things used to be when this cataclysmic pandemic is all over. More often than not critically ill patients do recover but they will be scarred emotionally, physically or mentally. In a similar vein the world will never completely recover in our life time. However the survivors can seek to pave the way for the next generation. To you the reader thank you so much. If you enjoyed reading this, how about I flog my book and give the proceedings to support the NHS? Lastly I would like to thank all those who will continue to work so that the future generations can bequeath a better and a progressive world.
⁃ Since I started to use my crutches and to exercise more, like a seismograph which detects earthquakes, I think my body can detect stressful events happening around the world. I endure incessant muscle aches similar to those short-lived ones felt by many after an occasional work out. Also when I’m standing up I feel a sharp pain like someone is sticking a needle in my left lumber region. If the experiences were consistent with the Covid-19 symptoms I be preparing to meet my maker. Every breath I took felt like it’s my last, believe me I have been there before and I don’t wanna visit him any time soon. Unfortunately you, me and everyone else will eventually pay him a visit.
⁃ Since December 2019 my body was troubled and I couldn’t exercise as normal. Coincidentally that’s when the Covid-19 outbreak was reported in Wuhan, China.
⁃ Now I’m feeling a bit better and refreshingly I was able to do some exercises including walking. However I wouldn’t say I’m now 100% I still got the lingering pain in my muscles. Worryingly Covid-19 patience are said to ephemerally get better before experiencing the worst. Also I ask myself that, if I get better does it mean the world will be healed? I always been a fit lad, everyday waking up at 5 and exercising till 7 but I’m currently enduring unprecedented and unrelenting body aches.
⁃ No empirical study has substantiated my claims therefore it’s simply anecdotal. Also neither am I trying to sound prophetic nor am I a sorcerer. However it should be noted that other studies have shown a positive correlation between stressful events and life phenomenon like gender ratio at birth. Gender ratio is the ratio between the number of males and females in a society. Also known as the sex ratio.
⁃ The relationship between stressful events and the sex ratio of babies might seem implausible, but the pattern is actually well established. Terrorist incidents such as 9/11 and the 2005 London bombings saw a similar shift in the gender balance, which skewed towards girls over boys for a few months afterwards.
⁃ As a consequence Retnakaran wondered if the American elections would have the same sort of effect on the sex ratio.” Retnakaran and his colleague Chang Ye patiently waited for babies to be born so they’d have data to analyse. They looked at all births in Ontario before Trump’s election (April 2010 to October 2016); just afterwards (November 2016 to February 2017); and later on (March 2017 to October 2017). They noted a significant number of girls birthed in comparison to boys
⁃ “Before Trump’s election, for every girl born in liberal-leaning regions of Ontario, 1.0605 boys were born, but between March 2017 and July 2017 this figure dropped to 1.0217 boys per girl”.
⁃ If this is true the world shall witness a surge of girls birthed 9-12 months from now. A baby boom of Corona Girls to officially announce the domination of the Metrical Empire. Since 1960 women have enjoyed a gradual ascendency to the top. The more democratic world has seen an unprecedented number of females leading their nations. For that I foresee 2050 with more women occupying more influential positions than man. Women’s dominance will be as significant as the dominance of men was in the Industrial Era, many women will become leaders in various areas including religion. Prophetesses will be the order of the day. Around 2070 the most powerful person in the world shall be a woman. However men will remain vital for the sustenance of the human race and certain blue collar industries.
This offers a little hope for African countries for there is a strong often lethal brew called Kachasu aka Lutuku. The beverage is commonly illegally brewed in DRC Congo, Zimbabwe, Malawi and Zambia. The university of Zambia (UNZA) found out that the brew contains 20-30 % alcohol. However many would argue that the alcohol content is more than that. Besides the UNZA results other studies concluded that the beverage contains as high as 70% alcohol. Rather than labelling it as a an illegal drinking beverage this this could utilised as a panacea and save lives.
Disclaimer: I’m not a doctor, virologist or a chemist therefore refrain from any experiments whatsoever after reading my words. – The fact of the matter is hydrogen peroxide can kill Coronavirus within a minute. While it’s poisonous to consume a higher dosage of it, swallowing small amounts of it (3% ) is usually not dangerous (National Capital Poison Centre). That said the medicine think tanks around the globe would have tried all sorts of experiments to find out if it’s a viable cure of Covid-19. Soon or later they will find a break through to stop it. The problem is it’s highly contagious and very stubborn- can survive in temperatures below 56 degrees Celsius. Some studies found out that coronaviruses, including Sars and Mers can survive on metal, glass and plastic for as long as nine days, unless they are properly disinfected. However some can survive for longer- about 28 days in low temperatures (Gray, 2020). It can also be transmitted in faecal (feces) matter. Scary that given that most surfaces are by and large covered faecal matter, most folk don’t wash their hands after visiting the bathroom particularly for number two. A recent study tested touch screens on 8 different McDonald’s locations, two in Birmingham and six in London. The study found fecal bacteria on every one of them, enough to put people in Hospital (UK Metro, 2020). In this digital world of touch screens the transmission of the virus is prevalent. The supermarkets could still spread the virus unless unless certain measures are imposed such as all shopkeeper must wear protective gear and shopper should maintain a certain distance apart.