The root of the problem is what I have identified as the ability of the human brain to place an overly large amount of faith in what can only be described as bullshit. You see I’ve come to the conclusion that as human beings we thrive on certainties that only become the gospel truth when repeated over and over again.

Now normally this wouldn’t be an insurmountable problem. Telling a child that both halves of an earthworm will grow into two separate worms that will go about their daily business harms no one (except possibly the earthworm). Telling an adult that the dogs that growl don’t bite is another kettle of fish entirely.

My personal experience is that my friends and acquaintances now know that when I spot a beetle on the window frame and say something along the lines of “that’s a green bellied toe biter which is capable of firing a deadly blast of cyonic acids from its posterior to deter predators” they most often simply don’t believe me.

The problem is that they don’t want to touch the beetle to prove me wrong because every now and then I actually know what I’m talking about. The fact that I once read a children’s guide to the flora and fauna of South Africa makes the knowledge I have just dangerous enough for all involved to be uncertain as to the correct action to take..

The real danger however, is that if you repeat facts to yourself enough times you may actually begin to buy into your own bullshit and this is when things can rapidly take a turn for the worse.

Take for instance the scream I heard not so long ago from one of the bathrooms in my home. Now those with young children will know that bathroom based screams are rarely, if ever good, so I at once leaped into pointless action to find out what the problem was.

The problem was in fact one of the largest and most terrifying spiders that I have ever seen sitting on a window ledge. If this spider had a CV it would have read “winner of the world’s most terrifying Arachnid competition 2009, 2010, not permitted to enter in 2011 to make things fairer for other terrifying Arachnids”.

The significant other is Arachnophobic so no help there. Taking stock of the situation a leant down to my young daughter and stated in a confident voice that this spider was a representative of the baboon spider family, that is well known to experts to be relatively shy and only uses the threat display of its massive fangs (see, you can spot them there if you look closely) to deter predators so that it can reach safety unharmed.

I don’t need to tell you the result of this misplaced confidence but I’m going to anyway. A swift poke at the spider with a long broom handle so enraged the beast, that it ran up the broom, and made a spirited attempt to bite my hand off. I threw the broom and the spider out of the window and beat a swift retreat to the wails of my daughter accusing me of harming one of Mother Nature’s creations.

Why I'd go anywhere near this thing I'll never know

The only conclusions that I can come to is that my brain is trying to kill me and that the voices in my head should be ignored at all costs. Oh, and I need to find people who actually know what they’re talking about. Also lesser insectivorous bats are not small cute harmless furry flying mammals only put on this Earth to control the insect population (A Beginners Guide To Mammals of sub Saharan Africa),  they also can give you a nasty nip and they carry rabies. Live and hopefully learn.

The reason is mosquitoes, and not for the reason that you might think. I’m having issues with mosquitoes and Darwin’s theory of natural selection, never let it be said that I let bedtime thought descend to the level of the mundane.

You see I simply can’t fathom how or why a living organism that should rely on stealth for its sustenance should make such an irritating noise. Surely if your purpose is to land undetected and fill your abdomen with tasty hemoglobin nature would by now have ensured that you do it with as little disturbance to the unwilling donor as possible. Having your victim thrash about as though in the throes of an epileptic fit would make the whole process not only complicated, but messy for all parties involved and potentially lethal for yourself.

A serious design flaw

By rights this approach should have consigned mosquitoes to the cupboard behind the door of evolution that’s labeled ‘must try harder’ by now.

Many of the good lords’ creations like rattlesnakes and mothers in law make an irritating noise but most of these make a racket for reasons that enhance their survival potential by driving off other organisms that could do them harm.

Other blood drinkers try to be as stealthy as possible, the Vampire Bat for instance lands some distance away from its intended victim and sort of shuffles up to it before sinking its teeth in for a midnight snack. Although light sleepers will never hit the snooze button again after seeing one of these beasties sidle up like an arthritic nightmare. So even this approach has the potential to reduce the pool of alert available human victims.

I think, on second thought, that I'd prefer the risk of Malaria

However, back to the pondering on planet sleepless.

I just don’t know why a mosquito makes this irritating sound. Having someone try to hit you with a pillow or a shoe night after night just doesn’t make sense as a survival enhancing mechanism.

Scientists have found ancient mosquitoes frozen in lumps of solidified tree resin (the oldest found so far was in a lump of 79 million year old Canadian amber, don’t ever say that visiting this blog doesn’t further your education) so they’ve been around for some time. They’ve fed off dinosaurs and caused Neanderthals sleepless nights so there must surely be a reason for that annoying whine. Some research has indicated that it attracts mates, I’ve certainly met women like that.

This theory does have some holes in it (mosquito, holes, you see what I did there), seeing as the male mosquito feeds on plant nectar, doesn’t usually stay up after eight PM and wouldn’t be seen dead in a strangers bedroom.

A mystery then, part of this rich and sometimes annoying tapestry of life provided courtesy of Mother Nature at her most pre menstrual.

I’ve strangled the parrot (read into that what you may), added vinegar to the goldfish bowl (my daughter is not happy), and settled down for the everlasting night that requires no duvet.

Tonight you see is the night of rapture, according to the ever busy apocalyptic pundits of doom in the United States.

Shortly I should be experiencing the first rumblings of worldwide pan continental earthquakes and the beastly herald of the end of days should appear in the night sky, heralding the awakening of the righteous dead who will then be whisked away to that everlasting samba party in the sky.

I’ve got a hideous dose of the flu so the claims that as one of the many Red Sea pedestrians that litter this blue globe I can expect no less than having my body join the millions that will simply litter the Earth without hope of salvation comes as somewhat of a relief.

I do have some questions for the experts who interpret the good lords’ plan for the planet.

Firstly what time are we actually talking about? If it’s six pm on the Atlantic seaboard then when can the teaming hoards of Africa expect to shuffle off this mortal coil? Methinks your PR machine needs a bit of oiling, after all there are quite a few of us who might appreciate a bit of a more exact heads up, even if that means that we know when we can expect to kiss our asses goodbye.

Secondly the recent Tsunami affecting the Far East would seem like a bit of a dry (excuse the pun) run for the end of days. Will our little yellow brethren be given some sort of credit toward the end of the world? Will only the really naughty survivors drop dead in the streets, would only nuclear workers be a little bit deceased? I mean they’ve gone through hell already, is it really necessary for them to have a further first hand experience of the underworld?

Doesn't seem so bad

Nothing to worry about

Holy shit!

What about the four horsemen? I see no mention of their imminent arrival? Have they been phased out in favour of the giant ants and zombie hordes?

A public service announcement

More information please, if its not forthcoming then I for one will be postponing my angst until the giant killer waves and earthquakes of the Mayan calendar are forthcoming. At least then I can ask the Japanese Embassy for advice on how to cope.

And I’ll be able to buy new goldfish for my daughter, they don’t mind inundations of any kind and it’ll be a relief from circling that damn castle for the little suckers. as for the parrot, today’s a great day to bid farewell to that demented beast.

Good riddance you keyboard eating shrieking crapping razor beaked lunatic

Nothing very amusing today, but I stumbled on some words by the father of modern physics that I thought might be worth at least a ‘hmmm’.

The man never portrayed himself as a great thinker. When asked why he didn’t carry a notebook around with him to record his groundbreaking thoughts he responded ‘why? I so very seldom have them.’ However I think that anyone who has even taken a passing interest in his life would agree that when he did have an idea it was something worth pondering.

This is nothing to do with the state of the universe, but rather how we all fit into that tapestry we call life. Well worth spending a couple of minutes reading it.

Without further extrapolation…

“How strange is the lot of us mortals! Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people — first of all for those upon whose smiles and well-being our own happiness is wholly dependent, and then for the many, unknown to us, to whose destinies we are bound by the ties of sympathy. A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving…

“I have never looked upon ease and happiness as ends in themselves — this critical basis I call the ideal of a pigsty. The ideals that have lighted my way, and time after time have given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Kindness, Beauty, and Truth. Without the sense of kinship with men of like mind, without the occupation with the objective world, the eternally unattainable in the field of art and scientific endeavors, life would have seemed empty to me. The trite objects of human efforts — possessions, outward success, luxury — have always seemed to me contemptible.

“My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always contrasted oddly with my pronounced lack of need for direct contact with other human beings and human communities. I am truly a ‘lone traveler’ and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my immediate family, with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties, I have never lost a sense of distance and a need for solitude…”

“My political ideal is democracy. Let every man be respected as an individual and no man idolized. It is an irony of fate that I myself have been the recipient of excessive admiration and reverence from my fellow-beings, through no fault, and no merit, of my own. The cause of this may well be the desire, unattainable for many, to understand the few ideas to which I have with my feeble powers attained through ceaseless struggle. I am quite aware that for any organization to reach its goals, one man must do the thinking and directing and generally bear the responsibility. But the led must not be coerced, they must be able to choose their leader. In my opinion, an autocratic system of coercion soon degenerates; force attracts men of low morality… The really valuable thing in the pageant of human life seems to me not the political state, but the creative, sentient individual, the personality; it alone creates the noble and the sublime, while the herd as such remains dull in thought and dull in feeling.

“This topic brings me to that worst outcrop of herd life, the military system, which I abhor… This plague-spot of civilization ought to be abolished with all possible speed. Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism — how passionately I hate them!

“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery — even if mixed with fear — that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man… I am satisfied with the mystery of life’s eternity and with a knowledge, a sense, of the marvelous structure of existence — as well as the humble attempt to understand even a tiny portion of the Reason that manifests itself in nature.”

Perhaps this opinion is warranted, when you have dynasties that have been in power for generations there is bound to be stagnation and its bedfellow, corruption.

The common people of Algeria, Egypt and Libya have laboured under the very real whip of leaders who seem to have lost sight (if ever they had any foresight at all) of the fact that history will not only judge them by their actions, but by their intentions.

These are men who have been in power by and large for decades. Their attempts to pull the wool over the eyes of the nternational community with sham democratic elections have fooled no one, including such power blocks as the Arab League.

And take your tent with you...

The question that must be asked of these so called confabs of popular regional opinion is why they have allowed dictators, and brutal ones at that to exist for so long?

The answer to anyone who is even a casual student of that regons’ culture, sociology and politics is simple. These are countries mired in the past; for all the oil wealth that has flowed into their coffers over the past century they are still stuck with royal houses or dictators who regard their peoples as mere vassels, to be lorded over and directed as they see fit.

It has become political and social anethema to look back on history and comment that until very recently these countries were not countries at all, merely loosely afiliated tribal groupings.

The discovery of oil has changed that completely.

For decades the populous of these countries has been satisfied with their lot, subsistance farming, later a service industry based on tourism and more recently massive infrastructural growth based on the seemingly unlimited oil revenues that flow into the government coffers (Egypt being the exception, but tourism and American foreign aid still underpinning a fragile economy).

Something has changed. In each of the countries undergoing what is in essence a civil revolt the power on social media, an increasingly educated and underemployed youth and a dissatisfaction with an anti Western agenda have led society to a tipping point.

The powers that be have reacted differently, in Egypt the President seems to the relenquished power without much bloodshed, in Libya it remains to be seen what the final death toll will be.

In these uncertain times one thing seems sure, the turmoil will spread. Dictators across the world should see the writing on the wall. As a citizen of Southern Africa I will make a prediction, the unrest will spread. It will trickle down through Africa, the Congo will split into factions based on tribal affiliations, Nigeria will split along religious lines and Kenya will follow.

The current de facto ruler of Zimbabwe, Robert Mugabe must now surely realise that the power of the people is on the cusp of rising against him, keep your eye on your TV screens for announcements of his stepping down. Unless he’s of Gaddafi’s ilk, in which case a bloodbath is in the offing.

Time's about up

The one issue which will surely be on everyone’s mind is what or whom fills the vacuum? Is it better the devil you know or is a country where arms are in the hands of the proletariat preferable?

I don’t know, but these are dangerous times people, stand together and hope for the best.

I always used to get a laugh out of these missives chuckling quietly to myself about the naivity of those who would fall for a patently transparent scam.

And then I got a phone call.

A publication would like me to edit their magazine which was to be published in South Africa, a new title about current African affairs called Montage Africa.

Interesting I thought, and not all that taxing seeing as already edit a couple of mags.

Long story short, I met with their representatives, drew up a heads of agreement and completed the task, in the process sorting out 96 pages of writing that could charitably be described as incomprehensible.

I was then asked to write a short cover story on the current American president and his relationship with Africa. I reluctantly agreed and (while on leave I might add) completed this assignement.

Was I paid for this work? Was I hell. Not a cent, not a dime, despite being reassured that the Nigerian publisher was on his way back to South Africa and all accounts would be settled.

Now I’m sure that Nigeria is full of fine upstanding citizens who conduct themselves with utter integrity and don’t have access to the ex finance minister’s bank account, however stereotypes tend to carry the argument when it comes to that country.

I’ve learned my lesson and in future will simply not deal with any so called business people from Nigeria.

The publication has still not appeared on South African shelves and I doubt it ever will.

However, for the sake of my own pride I’ve included the article below for those who have any interest, at least if they try to publish I can say that readers saw it here first.

If any Nigerians are insulted by what I’ve written, then tough, you get me my payment and I’ll be glad to write about your sterling qualities of honesty and integrity and your country’s undoubted contributions to global society. Until then you can kiss my ass.

For those of you interested the article I wrote follows:

DOES AFRICA DESERVE OBAMA?

As the cries of ‘Yes We Can’ began echoing across the United States of America many on the African continent began to hope that the Democratic hold on the White House would signal a new and even bolder engagement with African nations.

Although the terms of both George W. Bush and his predecessor, Bill Clinton had been characterised by a firm commitment to the African continent it was thought that Obama’s more liberal / social tendencies, and his ethnicity would mean a greater understanding of the challenges faced by countries and societies across Africa.

In fact prior to Obama’s election to the highest office in the United States, Witney Schneidman, an adviser on Africa to Mr Obama said that Africom, the US military command for Africa, should also realise its potential, in co-operation with other US agencies and regional partners, to promote peace, security, and stability on the continent. It was widely expected that Obama would be almost certain to build upon the Bush legacy on aid to the continent and HIV/Aids, as well as continue the Bush presidency’s strategy regarding African security issues.

Obama would be standing on the shoulders of at least one giant in terms of fostering positive change on the African continent.

Previous administrations had put Africa at the forefront of their foreign policy commitments.

Although George W. Bush was not the most popular President, at home or abroad, his record of commitment to the African continent was exemplary. Amongst other initiatives he led the American government in pumping $18Bn into the fight against HIV / Aids, much of it to be spent in Africa as well as backing the canceling of $34bn worth of crippling debt for 27 African states.

He was also not silent on Africa’s human rights record, condemning Sudan’s actions in Darfur as genocide. Nor was George W. Bush a wilting lily when it came to making the hard choices, when push came to shove he more than lived up to his reputation is a man who would back up his strong words with even stronger action. In Africa he demonstrated his disdain for the soft option when he backed Ethiopia’s invasion of Somalia to battle Islamists.

One could argue that actions like this speak more to an enlightened transcontinental self interest rather than any selfless motives on the part of a Republican government, however actions like launching an initiative that halved Malaria (Africa’s biggest killer) in 15 African countries tends to balance out opinions on the contribution of the Bush administration in Africa. When Bob Geldof, himself no right leaning conservative, admits that the Bush administration “saved millions of lives’ in Africa then you can rest assured that the united States under a Republican Bush administration reached out successfully to change the lives of entire nations on the African continent.

Prior to the tenure of George W. Bush, Bill Clinton served with less aplomb in terms of his relationship with Africa, a prime example being his lukewarm reaction to the genocide in Rwanda.

But how exactly will Barack Obama fit into the hot and cold, on again and off again love affair that the United States seems to have nurtured with the African continent?

Obama’s so called Kenyan roots have not had much of an influence on his attitude towards the mother continent. He has surrounded himself with a circle of advisors who, on the face of it seem more caught up in the business of appeasing old enemies and forging new (and some would say not very attractive) alliances.

A prime example would be Susan Rice, Obama’s choice as ambassador to the United Nations. Rice is a prime example of a Clinton era appointee who is see, at least in Rwanda as one of the many Clinton advisors who shied away from doing anything concrete to stop to genocide in that country.

For many in the Rwandan government, there exists a broad ambivalence about the Obama administration, an attitude that is wait and see rather than sit and hope. The attitude is centered on the team surrounding Obama, rather than on the man himself, who is still widely adored in Africa.

The question is, how long is this adoration going to last?

The answer may be beguilingly simple and consist of two terse words “not forever”. The citizens of African nations may be growing weary of their governments’ reliance on external donors to improve their lives. There is a growing feeling that the steady drip feeding of external aid into African economies may do more harm than good. The idea that this aid nurtures an unhealthy reliance on paternalistic largesse and consequent absence of motivation by governments to change their kleptocratic inclinations.

So what is the solution for Obama if he is to retain the goodwill of the African continent? The answer may be to emulate an unlikely role model, George W. Bush.

Because of Bush’s initiatives on trade and AIDS, Africa policy was one of the few relatively bright spots on his international relations report card. One Kigali-based Rwandan official cites a bilateral relationship that–perhaps surprisingly for an administration not seen as fond of dialogue–involved alot of listening. “The Bush administration treated us like partners, more than any other in the past,” she said. “They tended to listen more. It was refreshing.”

Perhaps that’s the key for the Obama administration, listening to what the nations of Africa need, rather than taking for granted the idea that aid should take the form of Dollars. Perhaps assisting nations with debt relief and security assurances would go further to solving many of the problems of what is still for many, the dark continent.

Security is one area where the United States has become more proactive in recent years. The threat of many African states becoming safe havens for international terror has spurred the behemoth of the American security apparatus into action. Today news wires shrill with indignant notices of extra judicial killings, drone strikes and unwarranted detention at the hands of shadowy figures with middle American accents.

The truth of the matter is that like it or not America is the world’s watchdog, and in order for it to be taken seriously by what it has traditionally called “the enemies of liberty” that dog has got to do more than growl menacingly, and Obama is slowly realising that biting is sometimes necessary, especially in a tough neighbourhood like Africa.

But African nations need to temper their expectations. Obama is a President with enormous domestic challenges to face. Aside from his failing policies on Medicare and his inability to stem a rising tide of unemployment he is also facing a senate that has responded to his rallying cry of “yes we can’ with a resounding “no you can’t, not while we have a house majority.’

The question that the African continent needs to be asking is whether the absence of an American foreign policy specifically geared towards propping up many of the dysfunctional governments that bedevil the continent is a blessing or a curse. There are many who strongly believe that Africa’s time to go it alone is now. The continent has a backbone made of precious minerals and ores and its people are capable of making the continent into the breadbasket of the world. Perhaps its time for Africa to divest itself of the artificial life support of international aid and take its rightful place in the community of nations as a net contributor, rather than a drain on global resources.

Whether or not the United States will be hamstrung by a lame duck President, or that Obama’s star is beginning to wane after shining brightly for only a brief moment has yet to be seen.

What is patently obvious is that this American Presidency will, at least for the moment, be inwardly focused and only when the United States sets its own house in order can Africa and indeed the wider global community expect to see a resurgent American foreign policy that will extend a helping hand to those in need from Cape to Cairo.

For now it’s a case of “physician heal thyself”

Perhaps it’s a mantra that Africa should be following as well.

But I’m not going to do that, it’s been done before, been done by people who are a lot more intelligent than me (although reading  Kinsey’s autobiography makes me wonder) and it’s quite simply futile.

Who you want to bonk and what the result is going to be is subject to so many different variables that scientists and sociology students are going to be exploring the subject for the foreseeable future. They’re probably going to be swopping spit in the shower and discussing government research grants for just as long.

I’ve just finished reading one of Jeremy Clarkson’s books (for those of you who are not fans of motoring, he’s the lead anchor of Top Gear, and do yourself a favour get one of the specials out, they’re great entertainment, try the Arctic Special).  The edition I just finished is a selection of his Sunday Times columns.

They made me think, everything you do is a reflection of your own personal taste, from the toothpaste you use to the shoes that you put on. A trip to the supermarket is an exhausting business, faced with a choice of cereal I’ll always defer to my seven year old daughter, that way I can’t be blamed and if pressed can point my wife in the direction of someone who is not intellectually equipped to defend themselves beyond pointing to the recommendations of cartoon characters.

I can simply hide in the loo with a good book.

But cars… We all need them to get from place to place, to get the groceries and take the dog to get dewormed.

It occurred to me that we all have dream cars. For some that means a car that would go from A to B as fast as possible, for some it means that unique expression of individuality, but what makes you fall in love with the very idea of a motor vehicle?

My significant other says that a Mercedes SLK would make her fall in love, make her wake up every morning and look forward to getting into the drivers seat. Fair enough I say, but this is a mass produced people mover, no matter what Merc wants you to think.

Put your foot down and it’ll go fast, no question. But love, I don’t think so. The same goes for most of the other German offerings. BMW, the same, any three series will have you in stitches. Readouts and handling will be brilliant, the M3 will have you thinking that your underwear neads to be changed.

Up the line S class Mercs and M class Beemers will deliver a flawless drive and excitement to boot, but would you walk out on a weekend and fall over the bonnet before you put the keyless ignition into action?

Great cars, Porsche, Lambo, even Ferrari in the 21st century deliver beauty and power, but for me you have to travel back in time to experience a love affair.

An E Class Jag came by me on the highway last week, sleek, shark like and outstandingly beautiful, personally I’d snuggle up to that nose any day of the week.

The newer Cobra replicas with the Jag running gear give me the shivers.

I pulled into a parking lot and parked next to a clasic Mini in concourse condition, apparently a terrible car to drive, but what a wonderful thing to look at, I felt like giving it a hug.

I saw a Merc SL 500 in a parking lot the other day, big, V12 version and I walked around it feeling as if I should lift a leg and pee on it, just to say that I’d been there.

I saw some poor soul driving a Morris Minor yesterday and I just wanted to stop my car and give them a hug for allowing the horrible thing an outing.

I even look at students taking their Beetles out for an airing and want to warn them not to exceed the speed limit (not that they could).

The point is, in these days when a Rolls Royce can be built on an Audi chassis and everything is beginning to look the same, we have to look back to find something that is loveable or perhaps even likeable.

Everything is beginning to look and feel like it’s made with the lowest common denominator in mind, and usually that’s cost. A couple of decades ago, passion was the driving force. It’s a time which I don’t think we’ll see again.

It was almost unexpected, and let me tell you now people where almost on their knees waiting for the rain.

And then, after a lot of sky gazing it finally happened, and if you read the following please don’t underestimate the effect that rain has after the long, dry Highveld winter…

A low growl in the South and an answer from the North came together slowly but certainly. And then a cataclysm of thunder and rain, washing away hard thoughts and doubts, bringing a softness of emotion that has been lacking for months.

This is the first time I think that I have heard anger in the wind. Perhaps it’s age but the first real storm seems to have a voice, and that voice is summer and in the first rains almost biblical.

It rips away the dust and dry air and stamps its authority on the Highveld.

Imagine a voice in the thunder, I heard it, and I bet you a lot of other Highveld people heard it as well, anyway I heard it in the thunder:

“Enough, you have kept these people under a yoke of dust and greyness, but this time is mine, be gone”

“Rejoice children, I am back and at least for this short while I will give you rain and thunder, I will make each evening sky light up and my voice will be heard in every home.”

“Many days will start with mist and fog, but this will soon clear and my son, the hot, hard sun will shine down on you and yours, the blue sky framing his beauty. Each evening I will calm him and set him to slumber with my lullaby of rain and a thunderous tale of age old love, which I have told him for ages, and if you listen carefully will do the same for you, for it is a cool and calming tale of sleep and care.

“I am the soul of Africa and you are my children, I have banished the cold and dust, I have sent my water to nourish you, this is my gift, feel your own hope spring into being once again in your hearts.”

They, and their families have been informed that the soonest they can expect rescue is Christmas of this year, if all goes well.

They are receiving aid through a narrow pipe. Water, clothing and food are being supplied to them on a regular basis.

According to news reports rescuers are sending clothes, medicine and games down the 700-metre borehole, which has the diameter of a grapefruit, to help keep the men physically and mentally fit.

Please take what I’m going to say in the spirit that it is intended, and it is intended in utmost seriousness.

These people are, in all probability going to be confined to a small space for many months.

What happens to their waste matter? I’m not taking the piss (sorry), but they are receiving food and water so where does the eventual result of eating and drinking go?

They’re in an enclosed space with no hope of help for months. I would assume that efficient waste disposal would be incredibly important for their continued emotional and physical wellbeing.

I make this enquiry in all seriousness, can anyone help me out with an answer?

My prayers go out to the miners and their families, seriously I cannot think of a more emotionally trying situation.

If you think that I’m being insensitive then sorry, I just would like to know more about how these men are coping with a situation that would drive most of us insane.

You’re an intelligent human being, witty, urbane, full of life, great fashion sense and an enquiring mind, your very presence here speaks volumes about your good taste.

But if you’re a member of the human race, and I assume you are because using a keyboard or a mouse requires an opposable thumb (if you’re a raccoon or a bush baby, welcome, I’m not speciast, every hit counts), then at some point of your life you’ve been faced by challenges.

These challenges can be faced in different ways, depression, an upbeat attitude, hiding in the closet, setting fire to the cat, but the point is that no matter how bad the situation is it’s not going away without some form of corrective action.

Any psychologist will tell you that many of the actions we take in dealing with stress or pain are just variations of avoidance, or ‘running away’.

What would happen to you if this avoidance behaviour just wasn’t an option, what would you do if you were faced with an eventuality that was just too terrible to contemplate? If your life was shattered beyond any hope of redemption?

What would happen if you quite literally couldn’t run away?

Well here’s the story of a man I would love to meet, someone who has the heart of a lion.

Peng Shuilin is 78cms high. He was born in Hunan Province, China.

78cms High, think about that. You would immediately conclude that he was a dwarf, a condition that brings with it challenges that many of us simply wouldn’t understand. But the reality is that Peng’s life is so far beyond the challenges of dwarfism, is so mind numbingly tragic that most people’s imagination cannot grasp what this man has had to overcome.

This is Peng Shuilin.

In 1995, in Shenzhen, a freight truck sliced his body in half. His lower body and legs were beyond repair. Surgeons sewed up his torso. Peng,  37, spent nearly two years in hospital in Shenzhen, Southern China, undergoing a series of operations to re-route nearly every major organ or system inside his body.

He kept exercising his arms, building up strength, washing his face and brushing his teeth.

He lived, he grabbed life by the throat and lived, not as a cripple, but as a man determined to squeeze every last drop of existence from his time on this planet.

Now Peng Shulin has astounded doctors by learning to walk again after a decade.

Considering Peng’s plight, doctors at the China Rehabilitation Research Centre in Beijing devised an ingenious way to allow him to walk on his own, creating a sophisticated egg cup-like casing to hold his body, with two bionic legs attached.

RGO is a recipicating gait orthosis, attached to a prosthetic socket bucket. There is a cable attached to both legs so when one goes forward, the other goes backwards.

Peng Shuilin has opened his own bargain supermarket, called the Half Man Half Price Store. The inspirational 37-year-old has become a businessman and is used as a role model for other amputees.

At just 2ft 7ins tall, he moves around in a wheelchair giving lectures on recovery from disability. His attitude is amazing, he doesn’t complain. He had good care, but his secret is cheerfulness. Nothing ever gets him down.

I would never belittle the suffering that many of us go through during the course of this great adventure that is life. All we can hope for is the courage to face our own individual challenges and keep our self respect intact. We owe it to each other to recognise bravery where it exists, and lend a helping hand when and where we see others begin to slide into that terrible and frightening landscape of despair that is fast becoming a reality of modern life.

Life is full of joy, sadness, beauty and love. Take great happiness in the rising of the sun, raise your hands to the sky at the coming of spring, welcome the passing of the seasons, wait for the rain, grow, learn.

Never give up.

(Thanks to Snopes)