The Corruption Tango (Part 3 The Temptation of Black Gold)

Part 3 of The Corruption Tango (see previously)

III. The Temptation of Black Gold

Meanwhile, this century has seen a number of elections in Nigeria
Our West African brethren, branded poster child for chaos and disorder

And the conventional wisdom from, say, The Economist was hardly honorable
Sample headline: Nigeria's elections - Big men, big fraud and big trouble

Home of the hustle, the country is continually in the headlines
Tales of shenanigans galore and the entrenched climate of the 419

You'll read things like "rotten at the core", fodder for scoundrels
But doesn't that also describe the options backdating scandal?

Western media hardly covers the good news in the darkest continent
Would that they would apply the same scrutiny to shell games on their end

I actually think it's miraculous for such a large country to keep moving
And even take more than baby steps after decades of misrule and killing

Everyone wants things to move fast,
   corruption is surely a tax on the common man
But every complex ecosystem has parasites,
   that shouldn't be hard to understand

So there will always be the temptation of black gold
It's human nature, a golden target will never get old

Then there are stories like "Saudi prince received arms cash"
That focus on the recipient, the venal prince with the stash

And not on the British multinational arms company
That so happily disbursed those fistfuls of golden money

Observers are worried, how doth the little crocodile?
It seems as if many prefer to affect denial

There seems to be something rather structural at hand
For perverse incentives, seem to be part of the plan

It doesn't seem to matter that the shadow looms of the regulator
The threat of enforcement actions and severe sanctions hardly matter

High profile companies are unbothered
   by the specter of the compliance officer
Ignored, and written off, with a touch of sleaze
   and the workings of the human factor

Or, more formally, the temptations are an inherent part of the process
In this light, bribery is viewed as part of the cost of doing business

There are two sides to this social disease, it just goes to show
That it takes two to do the corruption tango

Black Gold, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note(spotify version)

• I am the black gold of the sun by Rotary Connection
• Black gold by Gene Harris and the Three Sounds
• Black gold by Flying Lotus
• Black gold by Esperanza Spalding
• I am the black gold of the sun by Nuyorican Soul
• Filthy McNasty by Horace Silver

See also: The Corruption Tango: A Playlist

The Corruption Tango

A dance in four movements.

1. A Touch of Sleaze
2. Cease and Desist
3. The Temptation of Black Gold
4. The World's Lawyer

I nominate this internal displacement for The Things Fall Apart series under the banner of Fallen Angels.

Next: Part 4 The World's Lawyer

File under: corruption, culture, observation, perception, humour, USA, rogues, oil, Black Gold, gremlins, parasites, interplay, capitalism, poetry, economics, regulation, Fallen Angels, Africa, Observers are worried, Things Fall Apart, toli

Writing log. Concept: July 7, 2005; March 10, 2021

The Corruption Tango (Part 2 Cease and Desist)

Part 2 of The Corruption Tango

II. Cease and Desist

I was piqued by a little commented-upon story the other day
Well it was a while ago, a little illustration of the games people play

It happened in the shadow of a tragedy you might have heard in the news
It concerned the dealings of a company that rhymes with Baker Hughes

Baker Hughes then being the world's third-largest oilfield services company
You'd no doubt hear its name in the same breath as other high flying somebodies

Like the more notorious Chevron, Exxon, or say Haliburton
Oil and gas services icons and so forth, etcetera, anon

The company's slogan they extol, I must say, is quite endearing:
Core values of integrity, teamwork, performance and learning

Indeed Baker Hughes completed 100 years of corporate history in 2007
It's a wonderful company, Texas-raised, Katrina relief, volunteer heaven

It couldn't have been good to be front and center in the New York Times
Luckily for them, a couple of fallen towers had changed the headlines

The following passage has to be one of my favourite illustrations
Of the corruption tango's reach, and enduring vexations

In an action that was filed on September 12, 2001,
And received little attention at the time, (imagine that?)
Baker Hughes agreed to a cease-and-desist order
Issued by the Securities and Exchange Commision, which said that
It had (repeatedly) violated the Corrupt Practices Act
By bribing an official in Indonesia.

That cease-and-desist order appeared to have had little impact
On the company's behavior, (they stayed on the wrong track)
The S.E.C. action filed Wednesday indicated
It said the payments in Kazakhstan and Angola
Went on from 1998 to 2003, while those to an agent
Involved in securing business in Russia
And Uzbekistan went on from 1998 to 2004, and payments in Indonesia
Went on from 2000 to 2003. Payments in Nigeria
Were made from 2001 to 2005, the S.E.C. said.

In 2003, the company initiated an investigation,
But, the S.E.C. said, it did not uncover some of the violations,
Which allowed them to continue. (End of digression)

Now we shouldn't tar the company with a broad brush for the sins of bad apples
As we surely know that there are rogue elements in the wild, at any level

We need to tread carefully with allegations of insider trading
The bezzle takes a plethora of forms, not least self dealing

It's a matter of concern that culture can undermine the sinews
Far be it to attack the company that rhymes with Baker Hughes

There is a serious commitment to governance, audit, ethics and the environment
I need not say more, there are vast quantities of material on their web site

And, of course, all companies are made out of people in reality
And there are only people behaving, and sometimes, behaving badly

Go back to the founders, Howard Hughes senior's name adds color to the dance
James Ellroy made American Tabloid pulp out of the sleaze of the son

Heck I know some of those characters, the company's storied alumni include Red Adair
Good old John Wayne depicted him in a great b-movie as a prized hellfighter

So distinguished is the composition of its board, it isn't funny
I guess it's plainly obvious that Big Oil attracts Big Money

Check the resumes: Big Banks, Big Real Estate, and Big Property
Curriculum vitae: Imperial Tobacco, Big Insurance, Big Industry

Big Politics, former U.S. Ambassadors to Israel, Syria, the Pentagon
Big Men, Generals and Comptrollers of the U.S. Army, Federal Credit Unions

Needless to say the lineup of shareholders and executives are storied
How then could they possibly be out of compliance with Sarbanes-Oxley?

With that kind of oversight, no one should ever question their integrity
I only mention the story to highlight the interplay, the weakness of humanity

The logic of capitalism: the perverse incentives for those in the know
It is no secret, after all, that it takes two to do the corruption tango

Cease and Desist: A Playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• Don't Be that Way by Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong
• Stop Shammin' by Big Daddy Kane
• I Don't Want To Do Wrong by Gladys Knight & the Pips
• Stop! Don't by Count Basie and Joe Williams
• I Don't Need This Trouble by Alice Russell
• Stop by J Dilla
• I Don't Go For That by Quincy Jones
• Stop Think it Over by Jimmy & Eddie
• Stop by Lizz Wright
• It Don't Work Like That by Bugz in the Attic
• You Can't Stop The Rain by Loose Ends
• Can't Stop A Man by Beres Hammond
• I Can't Go For That by Hall & Oates
• Can't Stop by After 7
• Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough by Michael Jackson
  I was tempted to use I Can't Help It instead but I think this message better fits the behavior and modus operandi of the company that rhymes with Baker Hughes and others in that vein.

See also: The Corruption Tango: A Playlist

The Corruption Tango

A dance in four movements.

1. A Touch of Sleaze
2. Cease and Desist
3. The Temptation of Black Gold
4. The World's Lawyer

I nominate this internal displacement for The Things Fall Apart series under the banner of Fallen Angels.

Next: Part 3 The Temptation of Black Gold

File under: corruption, culture, observation, perception, humour, USA, rogues, oil, Black Gold, gremlins, parasites, interplay, capitalism, poetry, economics, regulation, Fallen Angels, Africa, Observers are worried, Things Fall Apart, toli

Writing log: Concept: July 7, 2005; March 9, 2021

The Corruption Tango

A dance in four movements.

I. A Touch of Sleaze

I know, I know, an oil company bribing in Kazakhstan,
Angola, Indonesia, Nigeria, Russia and Uzbekistan?

Captain Obvious, who would have thought it? Why bother, very passé
Or, alternatively for the more world weary, isn't that so blasé?

It's the very definition of oil barons everywhere in the wild west
That's how robber barons and monopolists amass their treasure chests

So nineteenth century, so railroad tycoon, so captain of industry
So very Portuguese explorer, so very East India Company

And truth be told, it's really no big thing,
A bit of imperialism or monopolistic trading

To make a such a fetish out of a few bribing actions
In a world of rampant stock market manipulation

Where we celebrate ruthless and unscrupulous business practices
On a frequency and scale worthy of a swaggering industrialist

It's not like rubber farming in Liberia by way of the Dunlop family
It's not like a banana republic run by the United Fruit Company

It's a small thing, just a temporary lapse in ethics
That found ordinary Joes caught looting in a crisis

The post-facto rationalization of age old greed is termed mercantilism
Humbug, as Marx might have remarked, it's the thin veneer of capitalism

Fortune favors the bold, the lure of black gold makes brave men take chances
Well... yes and no. Bear with me if you will, as I invite you to a dance.

We aren't talking of eccentric moguls in wonky health
Using exploitative strategies to amass wealth

Profit making for those with an aversion to shame
Pure pricing power for winners of the great game

Rapacious, these highway bandits, to the third degree
The simple secret of their success is a touch of sleaze

There will be blood, if not exploitation, by these canny merchants
There's always a shortcut when you encounter Never Never Man

The preferred tactic of this nouveau aristocracy
Best exemplified by Rockefeller and Carnegie

Is to scrub reputations with overdue philanthropy
Extravagant gestures, museums and public libraries

Serenely unrepentant in his lifetime was the colossus named Rhodes
Even since, the legacy scrubbing has taken on colleges and scholarships

So manifest was his destiny - his confession of faith doth nakedly appall
That centuries later, the cries continue to ring out that Rhodes must Fall

The biographers can argue about his complicated legacy, of course
But unlike Alfred Nobel's example, there was no buyer's remorse

Fallen angels like him and King Leopold
   practiced the conqueror's catechism
What many forget is that, during their lifetimes,
   they faced the charge of racism

But these are merely the opening steps,
   as when the dancers gather for the show
The intimate legacies of men,
   it takes two to do the corruption tango

The Corruption Tango: A Playlist

A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version)

• Takes22tango by Dwele
  The funky shuffle and irresistible step, see Snoop vibe out to the groove.
• (It Takes) Two To Tango by Lester Young With Oscar Peterson
  A fun romp in the studio. "Take off your drawers ...", now there's a seduction
• It Takes Two by Marvin Gaye & Kim Weston
  Baby... to make a thing go right.
• Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock - It Takes Two
  You better think
• Think (About It) by Lyn Collins
  One of James Brown's great productions. Mama Feelgood herself, duly sampled by Rob Base and countless others.
• Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, Jr. and Bill Withers
  We can make it we try, you and I
• Two Of Us by Cameo
  Although this is more in the devotional mode, the lyrics are instructive

  You've got to help one another

• Think Twice by Erykah Badu (feat. Roy Hargrove)
  A lazy groove, easy living
• Sleaze by Abstrac'
  "A low down dirty excuse for a man"
• Hypocrites by Alpha Blondy
  I too am scared of hypocrites.
• Thinkin' One Thing and Doin' Another by Miles Davis
  On the Corner, he went for the electric funk.
• Tea For Two by Thelonious Monk
  Well the Criss-Cross album is full of contention. A real cooking session.
• Two-Part Contention by Dave Brubeck
  Continuing in the jazz mode, this is a solo piano piece
• Takes Two To Tango by Ray Charles and Betty Carter
  Two great vocal stylists enjoying their meeting. We know that Ray was one for the ladies, but there's no word on if he was able to corrupt her royal highness.
• Talkin' Out The Side Of Your Neck by Cameo
  Speaking with forked tongue
• Two Can Win Jay Dee
  An ironic title, he samples "only one can win". Dilla's donuts are bananas.
• Baby, You Oughta Think It Over by Bobby Womack
  Walk away with your head held high
• Dinner for Two by Michael Cooper
  The Cameo alumni goes mellow
• Who Do You Think You're Fooling (pt 1 & 2) by Symphonic Four
  Quintessential soul music, a divine lead falsetto and rugged background vocals, the boys are a chorus: "when your mind stinks, you forget your soul"
• Carriage For Two by Tricky
  In the background you hear Lady Day's lyrics: "God bless the child that's got his own". The album title is apposite: Angels With Dirty Faces
• Hypocrites by Bob Marley
  Dry land tourists feigning airs
• Tea For Two by Jacky Terrasson & Cassandra Wilson
  A delicate, nightly rendezvous

The Corruption Tango

A dance in four movements.

1. A Touch of Sleaze
2. Cease and Desist
3. The Temptation of Black Gold
4. The World's Lawyer

I nominate this internal displacement for The Things Fall Apart series under the banner of Fallen Angels.

Next: Part 2: Cease and Desist

File under: corruption, culture, observation, perception, humour, USA, rogues, oil, Black Gold, gremlins, parasites, interplay, capitalism, poetry, economics, regulation, Fallen Angels, Africa, Observers are worried, Things Fall Apart, toli

Writing log. Concept: July 7, 2005; March 8, 2021

The Mink Quadrant

I sometimes fancy myself a writer
Although I haven't strayed much into fiction
What with life giving me more than enough reality
Consider this then as some mindless speculation
Or, if you would rather, an alternate history

The natural reservoir of the novel covidious virus
Is the great unknown, a mystery, and much like the Ebola virus
Has been mooted as cynomolgus monkeys, civets or bats
The prime suspect is thought to be bats, the original sin I suppose,
But most genetic sequencing has pointed to an intermediate host
Pangolins at the Wuhan market were initially mooted as the latter
Elusive this host, the forensic sleuths still search for genetic markers
But what of the reverse ferret, I ask? Well, what do you think?
Or would your inner pet detective rather consider the mink?

This plague has attacked humans, cats, and even tigers
Zoos and circuses have been known to be affected
But minks were the first species reported to transmit back and forth
Everything was very hush hush at those Dutch and French farms
It was the same in Spain, and Wisconsin and Oregon gave cause for alarm
But the prime evil was the mass culling of millions in Denmark
The panic that sorry affair occasioned was quite stark
There was no way to sugarcoat this late turn,
The swift butchery in the land of concern
The Danish dilemma seemed to put us all on the brink
As the saying goes, where there is smoke, there are also minks

Epidemiologists and virologists mostly shrug at the mink
And its possible impact on viral transmission
Sure, we would do well to monitor the situation
But they have enough on their plate, wouldn't you think?
And who can blame them? Simply getting people to wear face masks
Social distancing when politicians aren't up to the task
Still, the Humane Society was immediately on the case, that is
"Fur farms can potentially act as reservoirs for coronaviruses
Incubating pathogens transmissible to humans and are inherently cruel"
They renewed their longstanding appeal to the golden rule

Pity the minks, farmed for their fur for human masters
Then, scapegoats, casually culled in a covidious disaster
Beasts of burden long before animal to human transmission
The irony is that their minders were facing the same situation
The previous Surgeon General and CDC director were missing in action
Full of wishful thinking, as if allergic to public health interventions
The mink farm workers shared the same fate as meat packers
They were ostensibly celebrated as essential workers
Yet most were forced to work under conditions fit for a superspreader
What a life, neglected like mink, and casually led to the slaughter
A metaphor perhaps about how we treat the least of us
All living things on the mink farms were thrown under the bus
As to the carnage in this era of unease, that symphony of deceit
Recall, if you will, that there can be no winners in the game of the rough beast

...

The thing these days is that I've started to appreciate what's actually important in life. In related news, Pandemic Eye Syndrome is a new disease affecting human beings that allows them to discern what is actually essential, and, like others afflicted with this new clear-eyed vision - a gift from a tiny clump of viral RNA from Planet SARS-CoV-2 in the Bat-Pangolin sector and the Mink Quadrant of the galaxy, I'd rather minimize daily annoyance.

— The Dishwasher Situation (June 2020)

The Mink Quadrant, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version)

• Mink, Schmink by Eartha Kitt
• Wrapped in Black Mink by Johnny Guitar Watson
• Fur by Endor
• Mink by Young Dre
• Fur Coat Blues by Jamestown Revival
• Mink by T-cophony
• Venus in Furs by Velvet Underground
• Mink by Ross Ainslie & Alie Hutton

This internal displacement is part of a series: In a covidious time.

File under: humour, satire, observation, culture, mink, agriculture, agribusiness, coronavirus, pandemic, publichealth, disease, distribution, biology, capitalism, covidious, Observers are worried, Buyer's Remorse, outrage, hatchet job, toli

Writing log. Concept: May 20, 2020; March 30, 2021

A Shadow's Burden

The soul's weight descends on the bearer in a blanket of worry
For something so insubstantial yet tethered to a foreign body,
There's a frightening power, a Newtonian attraction to its pull
The eclipse of the heart appears suddenly in the blink of a lifetime

Dark matters apply their weight handily on the human chest
The entire mass, the full pressure, a mountain of silhouettes
Fragments of grief, scarcity, and all manner of precarity
Step right on, send me your troubles care of the soul's sanctuary

As a boy I would run freely for hours and hide from my own shadow
Try as I could, God knows I tried, it was never out of my reach
As a parent, I've found that the toughest lesson I've had to teach
To my children, without a doubt, is that no one is promised tomorrow

A shadow's burden chases the notion of whimsy away
The upheaval leaves in its wake a patchwork of dismay
Heavy on the mind, the heart aches in search of a cure for the perceived defect
The body seeks solace, but only time can supply the blanket of neglect

A Shadow's Burden, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version)

• Mountain of When by Amel Larrieux
• Who's Gonna Take The Weight Kool & the Gang
• The Weight by Staples Singers
• Heavy On My Mind by Club Nouveau
• Hanging Heavy On My Mind by Doris Allen
• Beast of Burden by Donald Byrd
• The Weight by Aretha Franklin
• Step Right On by Young Disciples

See previously: The Laws of Grief and Rhythm of Loss

This internal displacement is part of a series: In a covidious time

File under: worry, life, concern, culture, observation, loss, perception, dread, grief, pressure, pressure, poetry, covidious, toli

Writing log: March 15, 2021

Naming Conventions

Prosecutor: Mr Witness, what did Reflection tell you about who shot Superman?

— To Make the Road Fearful

Transcript of the Special Court for Sierra Leone, the Trial of Charles Taylor
Witness: TF1-375 [On Former Oath], June 24, 2008

Your Honor, I would first like to caution the witness,
Before he starts to speak with typical military directness
And turns to the sheer horror of the moment and macabre grimness
That there is the matter of naming conventions that we must address

Could we start, if he pleases, with the death and desolation
Of Operation No Living Thing or Operation Spare No Soul?
Oh, I see my learned colleague would rather not go down that rabbit hole
I withdraw the question, let's consider instead Operation Stop Elections
Which introduced the alarming spectacle of random amputations
Institutionalized by his troops as shock and awe situations
I ask you, Mr Witness, what, in all this, was your considered position?

Uh-huh, but what of Operation No Monkey, or the obvious invitation
To marauding and looting embodied in Operation Pay Yourself?
Surely he'll admit the sordid manner in which he outdid himself?
Any observer would marvel at that affair's rather cynical precision

Okay, the witness is being argumentative, we are not getting anywhere,
We can stick to the well worn terrain of what he previously admitted
Just the other day in open court, freely, in his earlier testimony.
But let me ask, what does he think about the names of the wicked?

Where, in all this, was Jungle, Black Jesus, Savage, Crazy, Red Goat, Rocky and Rambo?
All right, I'll restate my question, I am asking here about R.U.F. Rambo
Your Honor, could you advise the witness not to opine on who was scarred and handsome
And please answer instead of commenting on which of the two Rambos was the most fearsome

No, your Honor, my intent is not to blame the witness and the footsoldiers,
It is rather to determine the chain of command, the soul controllers
I understand that you, Mister Witness, followed orders to the letter
But from whom? Was it Zigzag Marzah, Five Five or General Dry Pepper?

Was it Captain Blood, Leather Boot, or the wannabe footballer, Gullit?
Was it Dawn-Dawn, Waco-Waco, Butterfly, KGB, Zino, or Black Diamond
Were the Black Gaddafa involved, or the notorious Adama Cut Hand?
And where was The Devil, The Killer, Scare the Baby and Monkey Brown?

Or was it General 50, General 245, or the rather confusing General Dried Pepper?
I'm sure you, Mister Witness, on this point, can provide further and better particulars
I submit to you that the Black Guards and the West Side Boys were part of the plan
And yes, of course, we'll get to the aforementioned Reflection and Superman

Now you would have us believe that you were present when, I repeat,
Scare the Baby was discussing with Butterfly "somewhere in Ganta"
In Ganta mind you, where to take Superman and Red Goat for dinner

Are you seriously telling this Court that a piece of pizza in Ganta
Costs more than twenty five US dollars?
So it would cost more than the rent of one of your motorbikes
For a whole day just to eat a piece of pizza? Jesus Christ

Witness: In Monrovia, not in Ganta. Monrovia. Monrovia. Yes, in Monrovia.
And I can locate the areas to you, for you to make a background investigation.

There's no need to bring up General Butt Naked, this isn't a fishing expedition
If it please the Court, my purpose is not to summon a play by way of Ionesco
Of logicians, and the plight of those who dance the corruption tango
Of all the things, the blood and the sin, Mister Witness, that this trial has heard
It seems to me that you're taking us to the torrid zone, the land of concern
Now we're completely unmoored, and reaching for the theater of the absurd

Postscript

See previously: To Make the Road Fearful

The most harrowing bit of reading I've done, the transcripts of the Charles Taylor trial, prompted the scariest piece of writing I've ever published, To Make the Road Fearful. Indeed, after getting it out of my system, I couldn't write a single word for almost a year, I was simply spent.

Four years later, I received a short email from the Chief Prosecutor who was then back at the UN. My piece had been doing the rounds at the International Criminal Court and United Nations and was being well received. It seems my close reading wasn't for nought, that plumbing the depths served some purpose even beyond assuaging this reader's curiousity. I can't say enough how heartened I was by this head nod of appreciation. Still, I felt that I had no business ever tackling this subject matter. I still felt the taint of its dark matter.

Perhaps the global pause enforced by the pandemic has occasioned a soul refresh. With a little distance from that cautionary tale, I now believe I can start to mine that terrain again. Satire is tragedy plus time, a wise man once said, and the balm of time can elevate the heart of darkness into its rightful domain: the land of concern, the terrain of the absurd. Do let me know if this is an easier read than the earlier grief concoction.

Naming, a playlist

A soundtrack for this joint (spotify version)

• What's My Name by Prince
  What name suits the Geneva Conventions? The discontent of verbal atrocities.
• Name Taken by Massive Attack
  There you have it
• Bird Calls by Charles Mingus
  Uh Hum
• Call My Name by Prince
  Late at night
• What's Your Name by Leon Ware
  Pray tell?
• Call Me by Al Green
  Fodder for a Blanket of Soul
• Just Call My Name by Alyson Williams
  the perfect ballad
• Dexter Calling by Dexter Gordon
  His tone is impeccable and the entire album is essential, but Soul Sister, and Landslide especially, are my kind of thing
• You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon
  well why not?
• My Name Is by Eminem
  a concession to blue-eyed pop from Detroit's Elvis
• A Chamada (The Calling Celebrating Sarah Vaughn) by Dianne Reeves
  I celebrate Sassy daily
• My Name by Sean Paul
  Rugged ragga
• Don't Call Me Brother by The O'Jays
  'Nuff said. The breakdown rap section of this song is legendary, the betrayal and the backstabbing. A civil war narrative in the city of brotherly love.

This internal displacement is part of The Things Fall Apart Series under the banner of Doctor Simbo.

Previously

• Part I: Close Encounters
• Part II: To Make The Road Fearful
• Part III: Naming Conventions

Next in Part IV: Enter Doctor Simbo

File under: Sierra Leone, Liberia, Africa, war, language, law, trial, culture, observation, perception, humour, , memory, history, rogues, blood, violence, absurd, The Rough Beast, Things Fall Apart, toli

Writing log. Concept June 2008; Prose: April 2015; Poetry: March 28, 2021

Shock of the Familiar

It's uncanny when you first recognize a kindred spirit
When you find yourself in conversation with a long lost friend
Beholding that ineffable nous that immediately speaks to you
A substance and outlook that, you realize, tints your customary lens

For what is familiar to you, what you've long known as normalcy
Is not the same for others, rare are the cases of deep empathy
You wrote the tale of the lost stories in an attempt to find yourself
For it's not often that you recognize yourself on the book shelves

It's bracing to read them as they take you into their worlds, these writers
With their finely detailed narratives, it's the underlying story that matters
What with the shared love of limpid language and angular storytelling
We are children of Ananse, with words as music, lovers of social living

I have my tribe, masked in words, with whom I'm in episodic conversation
Members of my cohort who give me comfort with their singular discursions
Blood brothers and sisters, most of them badged as modern travelers
I don't need their likes or plaudits, their very presence is enough

Humorous anecdotes and elliptical notions thrown in for good measure
Unafraid to take our time and tell stories and let them take us where they may
There are distinctions for sure, I'm not one for some of their enthusiasms
Even when I disagree, I have a deep and specific connection with their artistic impulses

The long tail of community, kindred souls who risk and dare
We are normally dark matter, but clarifying with the stories we share
Each pushing our way towards the moment when you see your face in the mirror
But even with our undoubted self confidence, it can be the shock of the familiar

In a life of mixed metaphors: the middle passage and the torrid zone
I'd rather not face the challenge of humanity's curriculum alone
At once stranded mid-Atlantic, dislocation is our ultimate subject
A head nod to my fellow travelers engaging in the normalcy project

Evocative, a playlist

The Friends playlist would normally be my first port of call, but this note seems to require something a bit more angular and evocative. Taken mostly from Massive Attack and Portishead who frankly won the 90s and finishing with the incomparable Stevie Wonder taking flight. (spotify version)

• Teardrop by Massive Attack
• Roads by Portishead
• Hymn of the Big Wheel by Massive Attack
• Glory Box by Portishead
• Splitting the Atom by Massive Attack
• Strangers by Portishead
• Superwoman by Stevie Wonder

...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried

File under: communities, writing, Creative Process, aesthetic, culture, observation, perception, appreciation, Africa, literature, normalcy, poetry, serendipity, Observers are worried, Comfort Suite, diaspora, reading, toli

Writing log: March 25, 2021

Flavor of the Month

No one is indispensable
Your kind are a dime a dozen
Don't delude yourself on special standing
Don't fall for that kind of racket
True, your skills are specialized and you're now being feted
Your insights are recherché, studied as befits the media glare
With the acclaim, you seem to have gained an entrée, a seat at the table
But the real power brokers are at the high table, far from where you are seated

No one is indispensable
True, for now you're the flavor of the month
But, as the history of all creative endeavors has shown,
Originality, although prized, has a shockingly short shelf life
Humanity can amble along with the merely mediocre, or plain ordinary
Survival is the biological imperative, your talents are unnecessary
Excess sauce, a thrill for the moment, a temporary passion
Tastes are bound to change, albeit you may be the latest fashion

No one is indispensable
I know, it's sad. They're throwing fine labels at you:
Edgy, Emersonian, afrofuturist, avant garde
Such is the frisson of authenticity granted those bearing a ghetto card
Your time might have come, feel free to enjoy the spotlight of this phase
But steel yourself for when their gaze surely shifts in the coming days

No one is indispensable
I tell you, let me count the ways
My friend, trust me on this,
Get ready to be lavished with faint praise
An ode to this fleeting moment when you are labeled Number One
Ephemeral, disappointment is nothing new under the sun

Flavor of the Month, a playlist

A soundtrack for this cautionary tale. (spotify version)

• Drop a Dime by Charlie Hunter
  I like the version on the Gentlemen I Neglected to Inform You that You will Not be Getting Paid album and accompanying tour but any version of this groove will suffice
• High Fashion by The Family
  Here's hoping that Prince's vault will reveal more from the sessions for this band.
• Flavor Man by Public Enemy
  The album's title poses the existential question of the internally displaced: How you sell soul to a Soulless People who sold their soul? The greatest hype man in history, Flavor Flav.
• The Latest Fashion by Prince and The Time
  The live and original versions are light years from what was released, I hold on to them. Staying power was suspect with this tune.
• Hot Property by Jamiroquai
  A light fun jam to round things up. It sounds almost like disco which we know quickly became branded as a passing fancy.

...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried

File under: humour, culture, hatchet job, observation, perception, hype, hubris, identity, poetry, authenticity, shell game, Africa, immigration, Observers are worried, Buyer's Remorse, toli

Writing log: Concept March 2012; March 17, 2021

Season of Migration

Refugees all, we in Africa are no strangers to dislocation, in many ways it is our close friend.

— Bags and Stamps

Welcome, Dislocation, old friend, so nice to see you again Mister
Come on in, Struggle is over there, we were just fixing drinks
What will you have? Homeland was trying out the sangria earlier
How was it homie? Did it pass the test? Tell me, what do you think?

Really? Well we can't have you drinking something that's merely ordinary
Come, let's get you something more substantive, I have a special wine
Or are you thinking whisky at this hour? Tell me your bottom line
Shelter, back there yonder, got started on a vintage bottle already

Knowing him, when he gets to work on these things, you might be out of luck
That guy can hold his drink, he's probably making pilgrim's progress
What's this I'm hearing? Good god, the pandemic's got you all mixed up?
You've lost your sense of taste? And ginger beer is now your weakness?

Well I can accommodate you, my friend, I think - it takes all sorts
We have a Jamaican one around somewhere but, please, no buyer's remorse
Before you leave, let me serve you some palm wine, some akpeteshie
That legend, Redemption, thinks it's quite worthy of a speakeasy

You know the story behind that one, we got it when we were getting married
And scoping out caterers for the wedding banquet at the last minute
The Nigerian caterer gave it to us on the house, said we deserved it
We asked, "What about the liquor license?" And sighed, "Oh, it's no use.
It would really round out the menu, oh this is such a case of regret"
That guy, cracked his Yoruba smile, and replied, I'll never forget,
"These oyibo get so confused, we simply call it palm juice"

The tides picked you up again, fear not, you shall return to your land
Remember, the world is your port of call, everything is written in sand
Nostalgia said he'd show his face. That guy, he never answers his phone
He never makes our cooking sessions, he spends his time in the torrid zone

Immigrant, a playlist

A cocktail hour playlist for this holiday party (spotify version)

• Immigrant by Sade
  Coming from where he did
• Tides by Nitin Sawhney
  The conventional choice would be Immigrant from the same album, Beyond Skin, but I feel that the piano virtuosity better fits the mood of this season of migration.

...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried

File under: language, humour, satire, absurd, immigration, displacement, Africa, culture, observation, perception, Observers are worried, covidious, poetry, toli

Writing log: March 21, 2021

Ellipses

I first met my sister one Christmas Eve, I was about to reach my maturity
A long story, gaps, pain, and the ellipses that belie a longer history
Of such things are families made, what with the undercurrent of trauma
Still, that quarter century was tough to bridge between mother and daughter

We'd been talking over the months and now it was a family reunion
Feeling each other out, exchanging banalities, she was unassuming
The three of us in the Brent Cross flat, a typically cold English winter
Contra London's grey, we all wore the most godawful sweaters

We settled in with no wariness and just got on
Cool customers, we were nothing if not nonchalant
They stared at each other these proud African women
My aunt made it a fourth in our exiled quadrant

A meeting of minds, myself, aunt, sister, and mother
Exiled souls, from homelands and from each other
Four lonely Londoners now missing Nigeria and Ghana
Wondering how to write the script for tomorrow's chapter

The usual suspects came into play: respect, deference, shame, and matters of protocol
We found our way through the initial unease and established our new rituals
Not knowing what one should expect, our trajectories in life were not too dissimilar
Still it was disconcerting, in the moment, to experience the shock of the familiar

Crafting narratives, some of us for a living, we were all born storytellers
Truth and reconciliation, it was hard to tell who could top the other
We could each raise the stakes recounting close encounters
And mention the harrowing escapes that marked our identities
The stolen moments we now shared, the tale of the lost stories

We quickly forgot the hurt and settled into the comfort suites of teasing
Deflecting past slights with irony and dry humor, we practiced the art of easing
Still, the mannerisms were uncanny, genetics could not be denied
Fittingly, the first movie we watched together was Secrets and Lies

Elliptical, a playlist

The soundtrack to this grace note comes courtesy of Meshell NdgegeOcello, purveyor of liquid soul and elliptical funk grooves. (spotify version)

• Elliptical by Meshell NdgegeOcello
• Forgiveness and Love by Meshell NdgegeOcello
• Mary Magdalene by Meshell NdgegeOcello
• Oysters by Meshell NdgegeOcello

I nominate this brief note for The Things Fall Apart Series under the banner of Social Living. What paradise have we lost?

File under: family, history, personal, memory, exile, separation, culture, immigration, identity, Ghana, Nigeria, Africa, England, observation, perception, life, Things Fall Apart, Social Living, poetry, toli

Writing log: March 25, 2021

Restructuring Activities

The blue bags were the detail that lingered and that you first noticed
As the security guards escorted the unfortunate souls out of the building
The royal blue of our corporate logo, not quite Ikea blue or Big Blue
Lovely plastic bags filled with personal belongings, photos, wages due

The rumours had been spreading for weeks, it was hard to get any work done
We'd all started to worry about bank balances and the lack of emergency funds
The sword of the corporate Damocles loomed large over our heads
Water cooler conversation circled uneasily around the shape of dread

Some started polishing LinkedIn profiles and resumes
Replying to the recruiters' emails, the curriculum vitae
Truth be told, it could have been you that day, it was a roll of the dice
You'd been on the other side previously, the experience wasn't very nice

A day later, in Skype a number of avatars had "Presence unknown" as their status
Next to the grey offline dot, that naming designation was appropriately callous
The faces of the wounded members of your tribe forcibly ejected into the unknown
The rest of you counted your blessings and continued working in the torrid zone

The corporate communications were full of inspired euphemisms
Uneasy phrases that outlined the process behind these resource actions
The passive voice reigned supreme, in this agitation there were no actors
The dry prose never assigned clear responsibility, only fudge factors

The actions were ongoing, the separations were involuntary
This opacity about the recent events and their inevitability
It was all about "the changes that we've made", those were mandatory
"The decisions we've had to make", on the other hand, were necessary

Tough love was in our future, there could be no promises about tomorrow
Indeed we were to understand that management was tinged with sorrow
And the logistics were tricky, it takes weeks to layoff thousands
When you wanted to present a human face you had to make allowances

Give them a couple of weeks severance, and explain their options
The bottom line was, we had to put this behind us, it was time to move on
A wilful erasure of the cheeriness and all the previous certainties
The stage was set, we'd simply have to endure these restructuring activities

In the aftermath of this round of layoffs, I don't quite know what possessed me
To raise my hand, and indeed, my voice at the all hands meeting with my query
I simply asked the smiling executives if they could give us any guarantees
That those who had so grossly misallocated capital in stock buybacks
Had now adopted the right strategy to put The Company on the right track

There was a stunned silence at my impertinence, who knew?
"That's a very interesting question, you're not holding back, are you?
What was your name again?", he chuckled, that's all she wrote
Uh oh, you and your big mouth, I guess they were taking notes

In the event, the answer he gave was as expected:
"Piffle, paffle, wiffle, waffle"
Said with enough empathy to leave everyone baffled
In the land of concern, we wouldn't feel neglected

"Does that answer your question?"
"Indeed, thank you sir, I've learned a great lesson"
Woe is me, I should have kept my mouth shut
My future prospects had just received a haircut

Come to think of it, I never got a raise after that outburst
Luckily they weren't vindictive, they didn't do their worst
I've had years to recover, I make a good living, I can't say that I'm bitter
These days I keep my rather mild critiques of modern day shell games to Twitter

Restructuring Activities, a playlist

A soundtrack for this pink slip, I must admit I found it difficult to get beyond Gil Scott-Heron who captured this mournful moment with uncanny accuracy. Pieces of a man collected in blue bags. (spotify version)

• Pieces of a Man by Gil Scott-Heron
• Please Don't Make Me Cry by UB40
• C'est La Vie by Robbie Nevil
• In Between Jobs by Lynden David Hall
• I Go To Work by Kool Moe Dee

...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried

File under: work, life, culture, observation, perception, capitalism, office, job, culture, irony, waste, poetry, humour, USA, language, loss, The Rough Beast, Observers are worried, toli

Writing log. Concept: November 15 2018; March 25, 2021

The Dining Philosophers Problem

The dining philosophers problem is well known in computer science
Dealing with matters of access, it has analogues in our headlines
Humanity's curriculum involves many rituals and traditions
Perhaps, then, it's worth explaining the problem's formulation

The diners that are gathered here today are five in number
Imagine, if you will, your favorite group of philosophers
They are initially presented in a state of silence at the venue
Around a round table, hungry they are, for spaghetti is on the menu

The central conceit is that each philosopher must alternately think and eat
Implicit also is that they are vegetarians or vegans, for there is no meat
The rules of the social game adds the constraint of manners as the main course
That they can only dig into their spaghetti if they have both left and right forks

After a philosopher finishes eating, but before launching into thought,
They must put down both forks to make them available for others.
Forks, in this arrangement, can only be held by one philosopher at a time.
The problem's construction teaches that sharing is caring at mealtime

To add realism to the scenario, we can assume there is an unlimited supply of food
And that our philosophers can eat long past the point that would normally be good
With these core ingredients: philosophers, spaghetti, forks (but no knives)
The problem is meant to illustrate the challenges of living parallel lives

An utter conundrum, this problem when it was presented to me at university
That, while I could discern that it had applications in the study of concurrency,
The problem was going from this set of instructions to designing an architecture
Full disclosure, I damn near failed this course on algorithms and data structures

The enduring challenge, if you think about it, is how to avoid deadlock
The fear is of resource starvation such that the actors find themselves stuck
We want a world in which no philosopher will starve and continue forever
To eat and think deep thoughts; a metaphor, this immortal philosopher

Timing is everything in the choreography of actors
Finding a strategy to manage this human infrastructure
The fundamental issue at hand, the term of art, is mutual exclusion
A stark concept, therein lies the difficulty with the algorithm

The conventional solution involves a resource hierarchy
I found it quite unfair because it clearly lacks neutrality
But it can be proven to work, if one heeds the instructions and laws
It applies an ordering to the distribution of shared resources

Another strategy that has been advanced is arbitration
This one I tried out, as I'm a firm believer in conversation
Once you designate a mediator, and open yourself up to abide by their resolution,
As the song goes, it takes behavior to get along, diplomacy can be the solution

The philosophical issues are many with middlemen, think of Caesar's tax collectors
And of the oligarchs and monopolists who insert themselves as toll collectors
Who are the designers of these systems in humanity's curriculum?
Who gets to make the rules? And who pays soul insurance premiums?

Game theory can come into play, think of the prisoner's dilemma
The shortest path to success might be to seize resources - state capture
Write the ruler's rules, and steal power like a conqueror
Rehearse a coup drill following the lead of many a dictator

I found that the problem had all the makings of a cautionary fable
Earlier, you might recall, I held my fire at that philosopher's table
Where rage, and its contemporary uses, were the bone of contention
'Twas decidedly, I'd explained, a case of normalcy prohibition

I had been thinking about this modernity of parallel lives
Where some have the great privilege of their insatiable appetites
A state of the world in which no progress is possible
We would do well to study the Mosquito Principle

See previously:

• Normalcy Prohibition
• Masks of Civility
• The Traveling Salesman
• The Skeptic's Credo
• The Last Philosophers

The Dining Philosophers Problem, a playlist

A soundtrack for this treatise, bookended by the great divas (spotify version)

• Dinner with Gershwin by Brenda Russell
• Competition by New Edition
• Insatiable by Omar (ft. Natasha Watts)
• Sharing by Bugge Wesseltoft's New Conception of Jazz
• Dinner with Gershwin by Donna Summer
• Insatiable by Prince
• Share my World by Mary J. Blige
• No Competition by Eric B & Rakim
• Share Your Love With Me by Aretha Franklin

...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried

File under: humour, folktale, software, algorithms, philosophy, competition, design, best practices, culture, observation, perception, social, technology, Observers are worried, poetry, toli

Writing log: March 28, 2021

A Panoply of Mistakes

Inadequate protection proved to be the golden rule
Turning the sanctuary of care homes into mortuaries
Meatpacking plants became the scene of betting pools
On the fate of frontline workers fighting penury

Essential meant expendable, they were an afterthought
And, as for survival checks, they were fiercely fought
Furlough schemes be damned, quick, get back to work
Eat out to help out, dereliction of duty was their watchword

The contrast was stark, for some, street life, eviction, and bankruptcy
For others, all manner of assistance, they called in the cavalry
It's quite obvious who the winners were, for them no expense was ever spared
The clear conflicts of interest on their no-bid contracts were never declared

Easy words: "I am deeply sorry for every life that has been lost,
And of course," easy lies: "we truly did everything we could",
Badged with easy empathy: "it's hard to compute the sorrow
contained in" these "deaths, with many more likely to follow"

Easy insults: "I take full responsibility", even as I deceive
With easy deflection: "it would be almost impossible to believe"
That the country "has passed the grim milestone", so many lives lost
And of course, "I offer my deepest condolences" and these easy thoughts

After Mister Johnson, January 26 2021

Wrong, a playlist

A soundtrack of unforced errors (spotify version)

• Mr Wrong by Sade
• You're with the wrong one by Fried
• You Were Wrong by Burning Spear
• Right and Wrong Way by Keith Sweat

Given the choice, they chose the wrong way. History will judge them harshly despite their fervent efforts at reputation scrubbing.

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time

File under: failure, coronavirus, pandemic, hypocrisy, outrage, hatchet job, culture, observation, England, incompetence, politics, language, humour, shell game, gremlins, satire, Observers are worried, Buyer's Remorse, covidious, toli

Writing log: January 27, 2021