There is so much anger…

February 5, 2017

If you switch on the TV these days. It’s like the evil eye. As there is so much anger, resentment and enmity in the hearts of so many because of Trumpism – understand this! Hate is pure. It is perhaps one of the most powerful forces in this world. Since man has never seen fit to study hate – it will always be a mystery. So when so one hates….trust me. They will hate you with all their heart.

My greatest fear is despite every effort by Trump to make America and her allies safe…all he has really done is galvanize the forces of evil against her.

Only the accomplished practitioners in the art of war can save us all.

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‘Many planters are very surprised that my yield has only been moderately been affected by El Niño. Of course I make it a point these days to pretend like everyone else that I too don’t have fruit – but eventually the truth always comes out.

In the kampung where superstition is a way of life – many prefer to believe this is a form of magic. Some come to my lands. They take a clump of earth with an air of expectancy in the hope that should they mix it with their own…their crops might grow as well.

But if you really want to know the real reason why El Niño didn’t so much as put a dent on my bottom line – a large part of it had to do with the litany of preparing and training.

Back in May 2015. The weather boffins in NOAA had begun discussing in their cloistered forums about the warming waters off the coast of Honduras. This is the first sign that presages the weather formation known as the phenomenon of El Niño. I listened mostly. Hardly ever posting as they all discussed the various possibilities.

Meanwhile I began to conduct secret surveys on my lands and even on my neighbors lands and began to diligently keep a log registering rainfall, wind direction and humidity – by July I started a series of earth works to divert water from the rivers. This was done secretly.

But…El Niño was a no show. I remembered feeling cheated and even slightly stupid for putting in so much effort for nought.

In January. Again the weather boffins has begun to speak about El Niño again – only this time, they prefixed it with the word monster…monster El Niño. It was hard to have faith in what they had to say by then. As since they got it so wrong the last time. It’s hard to take them seriously.

But since I’d diligently kept a historical weather tabula since 2015 – I could just about make out that what they had to say was not entirely nonsense.

That year I began to redouble my efforts at landscaping my lands further – some of what I did was so radical that you might even say I threw out the farmers almanac right out of the window and wrote my own farming guideline.

I remember that day when Mother Nature curled her fingers nails like razor sharp talons….that very day….I saw all in full technicolor and THX sound, it might have started and ended like any other day.

But that day was different from all other days.

Standing the edge of my lands with one foot on the fence post. I imagined even my dogs could all sense the silent approach of foreboding…the swiftlets flew in ever tighter circles. A sign of nervousness. Perhaps they too had registered a dramatic drop in the atmospheric pressure that spooked them. Animals I imagine can sense the impending arrival of evil far better than man ever can. I remembered standing there thru the night – even long after the afternoon light had waned and filled the inky darkness of the skies with the heaviness of waiting….just watching as terror curled like some restless serpent that had just awakened.

Mars was bronzed that night – cureleaned like a dull brass doorknob which could only mean the air at the upper reaches of the stratosphere was warmer than usual. The dipper wavered and blinked with so much loneliness. As if she too desire to belong to the rest of the other stars. Shimmering in the night heat. I stood there the whole night. Occasionally, I’d notice I’d lost track of time itself; even sleep it seemed had no dominion over me….I was simply watching for the signs, still having imaginary conversations with characters in my mind….even wondering whether perhaps I was like than mad sultan I once read about who marched out with war elephants and pike men with banners to declare war on the evil wind called the Harmattan…I remembered the owl had hooted mockingly at me that night as I sniggered to myself like some deranged mad man. But even then amid it all by the time my whisky flask was emptied. I had the feeling that even the owl was trying to tell me somewhere in my mind – farmer something evil comes this way.

True enough…the following day it all began.

In the thick of it all – it was really just a blur. I can’t exactly tell you what I did or didn’t do – there’s really too much to tell like how a lone sailor in a plastic boat tacks the capricious winds to ride one giant wave only for another to line up against his approach.

And once the storm is over – I don’t imagine I would ever remember how I even made it through by the slimmest of margins…or maybe she just got tired of me and spat me out like a pea that rolls right out of the melee…it’s hard to say when so many things comes at it from all directions

What’s important is I made it thru to the other side safely without even a single scratch to show for it.

Yes…it was a good fight. I imagine. I even rushed up her skirt a couple of times, when she wasn’t looking my way and was too preoccupied throwing pots and pans. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s really what a storm is all about.

I guess somewhere in all this there’s a lesson where we could perhaps say with that air of satisfying air of redemption – we live and learn! But maybe the real moral to this a blog entry is when you suddenly and unexpectedly feel cocooned in joy and feel so safe – never take it for granted

I am not like most of you who read this – no. I am not. For one I stretched too thin and the margins are just enough to keep my nose above the waterline….failure is not an option. Not for me at least. Perhaps that’s why I regard business as war!

Don’t ever take your joy or happiness for granted…be paranoid if possible. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed just on the account of that blasé attitude. We may not always be wise, and not very often kind when we expect tomorrow to unfold exactly like yesterday. And much can never be redeemed. Still life at even the razors edge has some possibility left. Perhaps all the preparations I did before wasn’t wasted after all – it was my way of fighting back to protect whatever little I have to call my own, that in the event sometimes something bad happens – you’ll be ready to give as good as you take…punch for punch…kick for kick.

Now all there’s left is a tired man – like some forlorn foot soldier standing on the top hill after last rent of a long and bitter drawn out battle – drawing on a cigarette with trembling hands, muddied, caked with blood….turning inwards and watching with his mind’s eye to see the very end of El Niño’s destructive wake….and perhaps reminiscing to himself with a deep sense of pride that at least…it was a good innings…a good fight…where fear has gone only I stand….only I.

I saw it all the before, during and after….I am the man of all seasons….listen to me carefully…listen…in peace prepare for war. In war prepare for peace.’

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