“President”: Dirty Rotten Scoundrels in Zimbabwe Exposed in Magnificent Documentary

Dirty rotten scoundrels exist in politics just about everywhere. The United States just put one on the backburner for the time being. He tried to steal the Presidency of the United States but the military was not swayed by his fantasies of an election steal.

Matters in the 2018 election in Zimbabwe were clearer cut rife with fraud, corruption, beatings, rapes, sodomies and assassination attempts.

Robert Mugabe who we know in his declining years as a ranting and deluded tyrant was deposed in a coup by his Vice President E.P. Mnangagwa (EPM) in 2017. EPM had been in Mugabe’s cabinet and acted as advisor to Mugabe for many years so one knows immediately the cloth he is cut from. EPM announces elections for 2018 as acting President and promises they will be fair, honest and credible. Comforting words from a Mugabe hack. Like a rabid dog he turned on his handler.

EPM is running for President against Morgan Tsvangirai of the MDC Alliance who dies before the election and is succeeded by 40-year lawyer and activist Nelson Chamisa a victim of beatings and an assassination attempt or two. Such is the Mugabe tradition!

The fair, free and credible election is off the rails early on by EPM’s Zimbabwe Electoral Commission (ZEC) which is headed by a ZANU appointed justice. ZEC refuses opposing political parties a say in ballot design.

Meanwhile Chamisa is attracting thousands to his rallies. They stretch as far as the eye can see. There is hope in their eyes hoping to tear up the Mugabe and his toadies’ yoke of corruption and intimidation.

EPM’s ZANU rallies are sparse with “supporters” being trucked in from the countryside. And a day before the election Chamisa receives yet another death threat.

Any surprise Chamisa loses the vote for President? The voting tallies are quite obviously rigged helped of course by beatings, rapes and intimidation by soldiers and police supported by many afidavits. The fraud is badly managed so the election results are mathematically established to be a fix. Demonstrations erupt and live bullets are fired at demonstrators in Harare killing six. EPM sidesteps questions about who ordered live ammunition to be used. A Chamisa press conference is busted up by the army and some of his supporters carted away by police. The electoral results proceed to court for a decision and all the judges are ZANU appointed. EPM is declared the winner and installed in a grand inauguration ceremony.

If I called the results of this election as soon as Mugabe’s interim successor and toady, EPM, was appointed as President I am sure Chamisa predicted the same result but he went through the motions to show the citizens of Zimbabwe and the world the iron grip of ZANU on Zimbabwe.

I might use the terms tragic and depressing to describe this documentary but I will use “predictable” instead. Zimbabweans felt a spark of hope and joy which was crushed by a Mugabe henchman. It is only hoped that this taste of freedom remains on their palate.

Think of the film as Mr. Reformer vs. a dirty rotten bastard.

This is close to two hours but the story flies by and speaking of flying you are going to be a fly on the wall without a narrator to guide you. It is raw drama and beautifully edited into a magnificent documentary. In person showings at Ted Rogers Hot Docs Theatre in Toronto on February 23 and 24 and streaming online to devices in Canada.

Directed by Camilla Nielsson.

You can see the trailer here https://hotdocs.ca/whats-on/films/president#President

RKS Film rating 95/100.

“Travels to a Different Time” : 10August1972: Belfast, Ardrossan, Edinburgh and Unusual Security Issues in Belfast: Missed Bloody Friday by Three Weeks

So here I am a 16-year-old having breakfast at the Royal Belfast Hotel. I am sure I must look like some ratty orphaned child as I eat from silverware. Oliver Twist looking for Fagan! I love that they bring toast in a silver rack covered by a napkin to keep it warm. The staff I must say have treated me like some strange creature from a friendly planet. Can I say Irish hospitality? If they knew I was Protestant what would have happened?  I went to the post office to mail some postcards and soldiers were surrounding it. I was frisked by a British soldier who missed the stiletto in my back pocket. All this security to mail a letter? What has happened to Northern Ireland? Hatred can live anywhere but how long can people stand it? I have had enough of it.

I was happy to leave Northern Ireland and I went to the docks to catch a ferry to Ardrossan in Scotland. I wanted to leave my knapsack in storage but again security concerns say I could not do that. I walked around the port and had a pint of milk and some cookies for lunch. 5 hours on the sea and arrived at Ardrossan at 9:30 and decided to hitch to Edinburgh, I was picked up by a student and invited to stay at a house occupied by her fellow students.

11August1972; Edinburgh

I found a great room for £1.75 with breakfast. I had some herring, milk, bread and a sweet bun for breakfast on my way to find the room. I found a laundromat and washed all my clothes. Tomorrow I will visit Edinburgh Castle.

16August1972: Edinburgh and New York; Just Get Me Home Please!

I am sitting in the Port Authority in New York just back from Edinburgh. A 3 hour wait for the bus to Montreal. I could have stayed a couple of weeks more but from all this hitchhiking and from an awful trip to Northern Ireland I feel exhausted, dirty and disgusted after my trip to the “developed world”. It has been rainy, chilly, damp and more or less unchallenging as we all speak English in England, Scotland and Ireland. I miss the unknown as I experienced in Greece and Yugoslavia. I suppose my next adventure will be to Eastern Europe as I hear from a traveller or two it is almost untouched by capitalist country tourists. My type of place! In the meantime I missed several days of diary entries. I had my 17th birthday in Scotland 4 days ago but can’t remember what I did. Just get me home please.

Some say people experience unpleasant things in life for a reason. Why have I seen such turmoil and even a death in Northern Ireland? It has taught me a lesson of how politics and religion can be a deadly combination when fuelled by desperation and hatred. On the boat over to Scotland I chatted with an Irish bloke who said on July 21, 1972 19 bombs exploded in Belfast killing 19 and injuring hundreds. Lucky me for missing that by three weeks. I suddenly realized I could have been injured or killed on Bloody Friday

RKS Wine: North Coast California Dough Cabernet Sauvignon: How a State Monopoly for Liquor Distribution Mocks Us

You may have seen wine “on sale” at your LCBO. Sale most often means a whopping and quite frankly insulting $1.00 or $2.00 discount. Wow! Shiver me timbers! Then the roof gets blown off “a la State Monopoly” with manager discounts that can be as high as 30%. Beyond 30% seems a place no liquor monopoly dare tread. This Dough was one of those manager discounts. These discounts are because the wine is not selling out fast enough so new stock can be put on the shelves. Sometimes it is a couple of cases or a couple of bottles. And it is store based. It is not a matter of poor quality as I see many poor-quality wines being sold at the Liquor Control Board of Ontario without any discount.

Dough originally was on the shelves at $27.95 but with the “deep” a la State Monopoly discount it was $19.40.

On the nose somewhat of a typical California marker for Cabernet Sauvignon that being blueberry. There is also some blackberry and black cherry with a bit of smoke. The tannins are moderate and provide a good grip. We taste some blueberry on the palate. Strangely there is a bit of blue in the colour of this red wine. Is it reality or do I have a chunk of blueberry pie on my mind? The wine has a medium finish to it. Unfortunately it lacks both complexity and charm. I think it is best suited to food and let’s get American and have it with a chunk of beef.

This wine might suit a nice piece of beef

I wouldn’t pay $27.95 for this wine. The markdown does not reveal a hidden treasure at least this time.

(Dough Cabernet Sauvignon 2019, California North Coast, Dough Wines, Oakville California $19.40, LCBO # 20802, 750 mL, 14.9%, Robert K. Stephen A Little Birdie Told Me So Rating 86/100).

Dylan’s Passage of the Day: Meditation and Non-Doing

“Meditation is synonymous with the practice of non-doing. We aren’t practicing to make things perfect or to do things perfectly. Rather we practice to grasp and realize (make real for ourselves) the facts that things are already perfect, perfectly what they are. This has everything to do with holding the present moment in its fullness without imposing anything extra on it, perceiving its purity and the freshness of its potential to give rise to the next moment. Then knowing what it is, seeing as clearly as possible, and conscious of not knowing more than we actually do, we act, make a move, take a stand, take a chance.”

Jon Kabat-Zinn “Wherever you Go There You Are” Hachette Books

“Travels to a Different Time” :9August1972: Thoughts on Dublin: Bloody Remains of Blown Up Terrorist, Rubber Bullets and Screaming Mob: Welcome to Northern Ireland

In a way I am regretting my coin toss in Paris that sent me northward. What has it revealed? Awful accommodations, hair lice, great breakfasts, great beer, fish and chips in newspaper and more or less friendly people. But the air and the smells are different than southern Europe. Dublin is a cold city in its soul. As soon as I stepped into the city I was accosted by a drunk cursing me with the foulest language because I didn’t give him money for drink. The Irish seem miserable and I wonder because of all this rain!

Well on my way to Belfast I picked up a memory I will never ever forget. I am in a car approaching the border with Northern Ireland in a town called Newry. We hear a big explosion and a flash ahead. My God it’s a blown-up body, at least what was left of it. I felt like puking. Then a mass of screaming people running away from the explosion with British soldiers firing rubber bullets into the crowd and few dropping to the ground. Welcome to Northern Ireland. A far throw away from sunny beaches and hot weather. And I may have written about the failure of communism in Yugoslavia and East Germany is this Northern Ireland anything but a political failure. I have been a gift of a horrible memory by Her Majesty’s Royal Forces and some Northern Ireland terrorist organization. This memory will never die. You won’t see it as part of any tourist ads.

My driver friend said what are you going to answer if someone asks you what religion you are. I responded by thinking of something neutral and that was I was Jewish. Bad idea he said. Both sides will kill you if you say that. He advised me to say that I was Canadian and stick to that. What a shit pit Northern Ireland is. He also said if you stick to “your side of the battle zone” you should be safe but there is always the possibility of being in the wrong place at the wrong time particularly for bomb explosions. Speaking of the explosion I heard on the news that the bomb blast was caused by a terrorist with a bomb hidden under his coat. It detonated prematurely. After Newry I walked for miles and past a British base. Nearly collapsing from exhaustion I get a lift into Belfast. There are bombed out buildings and heavily armed British soldiers. I asked one of them where I could find a reasonably priced hotel but he told me they have all been blown up except for a few. So I check into the Royal Belfast Hotel and get taken up to a room by a bellhop who apologized and said he had to check my knapsack for bombs. Belfast indeed looks like a war zone combined with a touch of Industrial Revolution. I stayed close to a hotel which I am told is in neutral territory. I went to a simple steakhouse and had a huge meal for $1.75. I came home and had the luxury of a hot bath. Exhausted I crawl into bed and fall to sleep with memories of a blown-up body on the roadside and screams. There is a demonstration outside my hotel room. How can you ever forget a day like this? I suppose as a tourist all is not fun and games. What is more important years from now. Seeing dismal political failures or spearfishing on an Adriatic beach? I am beginning to think if there is some greater power planning my trip but for what reason I am not sure. As that hippie on a boat in Greece said it is important to live life in the moment. The bombing scene I lived in the moment. Should I forget it or live with it because it may hold some meaning I am not aware of?

Dylan’s Passage of The Day:  Shut Up the Voices in Your Head and Try Just To Breathe and Concentrate on Your Breath: Sounds Easy But it May Take Months To Be Able To Do It!

“To use your breathing to nurture mindfulness, just tune into the feeling of it….the feeling of the breath coming into your body and the feeling of the breath leaving your body. That’s all. Just feeling the breath. Breathing and knowing that you you’re breathing. That does not mean deep breathing or forcing your breathing or trying to feel something special or whether you’re doing it right. It doesn’t mean thinking about you breathing either. It’s just a bare bones awareness of your breath moving in and out.”

Jon Kabat-Zinn “Wherever You Go There You Are” hachette Books

“Travels to a Different Time” : 7August1972: Newhaven to London: London to Holyhead

Steve and Mike had hardboiled eggs which we ate for breakfast as well as a pint (of milk). We spent the morning walking the cliffs of Newhaven and looking at the pillboxes facing the ocean. I hitched to London which took me three hours. My last lift was with a lawyer named Jim who apologized he could not entertain me as he was busy. He did say if you get into trouble give him a call at the number on his card. Do I look like a person who gets into trouble? I did find a room for £1.25 that included breakfast but strangely I am sharing a room with a stranger. And there is an awful funky smell. Paris was enough of a big city for me plus everyone here speaks English. Hardly exciting. I have to get out of here tomorrow.

8August1972: London and Holyhead: Wasted Day and Fish and Chips in Newspaper and a Pint

Had an English breakfast of sausages, eggs and toast. My type of breakfast. Then over to Euston Station for a train to Holyhead and then a boat to Dublin. What a waste of time with a 7 hour wait for a train! The scenery through Wales was spectacular and after a long search found a nice room with none of that London funky stink. The room was £1.75. I had a great walk on the waterfront and had fish and chips that was wrapped in a newspaper. Strange custom they have here. Stopped in for a pint at a pub at £.13. Came home and washed some socks. Tomorrow Dublin. So tired.

“Travels to a Different Time” : 6August1972: Paris, Dieppe and Newhaven: Right into a Pub after Arriving in England: Driving Too Fast With a Man With a Toothache

Up early knowing a long day of travel. Do I head south through France to Spain or head north to England and Scotland home of my ancestors? I did a coin toss and fate has determined north I go. I took the Paris Metro as far north as I could and that left 180 kilometres to go. I had a 4 kilometre walk to get to the highway and sticking out my thumb goodness knows where this adventure will take me. My first ride was with a guy in a green car and he left me off in a small farming village. There was a bakery and small grocery store so lunch was half a loaf of bread, sardines, vanilla cake and water. The next lift was with a guy who drove like a maniac as he had a bad toothache and was in a rush to get to his dentist. Next lift was with a father and son and the last one was a young guy on his way to Dieppe and he was nice enough to take me to the waterfront. I bought a ticket on the ferry to Newhaven across the English Channel but had some time to walk along the beach quite amazed by the old crumbling German pillboxes. I reached Newhaven at 10 p.m. and Customs did not even look at my passport. I met a couple of young blokes Mike and Steve and my goodness at an English pub for a couple of pints of really good British beer. This pub was the cozy sort of one you see in movies with men in white wool sweaters puffing on pipes. Strange being in Europe and hearing English spoken. Well Steve and Mike said I could stay in their tent for the night so we wended our way home and crashed out.

“Travels to A Different Time” : 5August1972: Last Day in Paris and the Bugs in My Bed? Rats Nibbling at My Toes

It is my last full day in Paris and I am heading North to England tomorrow. I must have walked 10 miles today and managed to see the Mona Lisa at the Louvre with only two people looking at it with me. Then to the Eiffel Tower swarming with tourists the bane of my existence. I am a tourist but no Bermuda shorts and some “See Paris” tourist guide for me. For lunch bread, a tin of mackerel and some orange cake. But I forgot to get the key for the mackerel tin so I had to bash it open. Went to the cafeteria I was at yesterday and had a dinner of macaroni, rice, a banana and milk for $1.25. My head is itchy and after scratching it a few lice dropped out! Had a very hot shower and combed my hair and got those filthy buggers out. I have lived lean and cheap in Greece and Yugoslavia but Paris is different. Will I have rats nibbling on my toes tonight?