Saturday, December 26, 2009

Land Rights For Jewish Israelis In Israel


On the issue of land rights and rights to land, there is a big problem in Israel today with a building freeze happening in the Shomron region which is traditionally called Judia and Sumeria. This is biblically Jewish land and the rights to the land go back 1,000's of years.
The Shomron region is a thriving Jewish area and there are many Israelis who have made their homes in the region, building up the land after many centuries of neglect. The Shomron region is called by the UN terms like the 'Occupied Territories' or the 'West Bank'. Very interesting terminology in use here.
Yes,  the region is being occupied by its rightful owners once again. And should that be a problem? Well unfortunately it is for the UN which appears to have a strong Arab Nationalist lobby and now freeze has been placed on building in the area. Absurd really and let me tell you why.
Just imagine you have a house that you have squatters living there. You own the house, but were not able to claim it for many years. And when you finally returned, you realised that you could not just turf these people out. It would be inhumane,  even cruel. So you 'repurchase' the house room by room (even though it is your house) and you give these people time to move out into other houses, but also you need a place to live with your families which are growing, so you decide to build onto the house to accommodate them. Anyway the squatters now want to stake a claim to your house by saying that they have lived there ex number of years and it is 'technically their house'. Even though they don't really look after the parts of the house that they are living in and do little to develop it.
Some of the squatters have gotten downright offensive and destructive. They don't want to live side by side with the original owners of the house, even though the original owners have bent over backwards to accommodate them. These squatters now want to claim the whole house and destroy the original owners and therefore they have gone to an outside body to try and to delegitimise the original owners'claim to the house.
This body then puts pressure on the original owners to stop them building, but does not stop the squatters from building.
When any of the original owners try to protest they are not heard or they are put in prison on trumped up charges because some of the squatters have friends in high places.
The whole irony about the building freeze is that the Israeli Government is working against its own people and state. Where is this going to stop? What is a building freeze going to achieve? Something is not right here or rather something is very very wrong.
Here on one hand,  is a vibrant national movement and they are building homes, towns, farms and communities. They create places where family and learning and peace are paramount. On the other hand,  we have a people who throw temper tantrums and persist in destruction, send suicide bombers into peaceful communities to kill innocents, follow a cult of ugly violence and firing of rifles into the air and they are listened to and because of that, the former communities have to stop their building.
Where is the justice in that?? What is happening here in the world???

Thursday, September 3, 2009



Saturday, May 16, 2009

Why does this make me sad?

For one thing, the father has limited intelligence and questionable morals, if he thinks that this is the way to initiate his son into the intricacies of male - female relationships. It is poetic justice that it was a police officer that he picked out for his son.
How is this kid going to get a proper handle on the relationship perspective with such a father? What the son is learning is that all a woman is good for is a poke and you pay her for it. Sex becomes a commercial transaction, not an act of love between two adults in a legally binding and mutually respectful relationship.
SAD, sad world, ain't it?

LONDON (Reuters) - A man who tried to hire a prostitute to take his 14-year-old son's virginity as a present was spared jail by a court on Friday.

The Polish national took the boy out in his car and allowed him to pick out the prostitute, who was standing at the side of the road in the red-light district of Nottingham.

But the 42-year-old father was arrested because the teenager had chosen an undercover police officer, Nottingham Crown Court heard.

The man, who cannot be named for legal reasons, was handed a 10-month prison sentence, suspended for a year, after he admitted a charge of trying to solicit a woman to have sex with a child, the Press Association reported.

The court heard that the father, who came to Britain eight years ago, was arrested last July during an undercover operation by the city's vice squad.

Prosecutor Adrian Harris said the man and his son had approached the undercover officer whose code name was Sarah and beckoned her over .

He asked "Sarah" how much it would cost for her to have sex with his son and they agreed on a 20 pound fee. However, when the car pulled over, the man was arrested by plainclothes police officers.

"The boy said that they had driven past the girl and his dad pointed to her and said 'will she do?'" Harris said.

"He said 'yes' and they had turned round. He said his dad did this because he was still a virgin and he was taking care of that for him."

Judge Jonathan Teare said he would spare the father jail because of his excellent character and that he believed he did not mean any harm to his son.

"You have a duty of care to your son and that is to look after his moral welfare, not as you might think to break him in to the ways of sex through a prostitute," he said.

The court was told the boy would continue to live with his father.

SAD sad world, isn't it?

Thursday, January 22, 2009

I feel really isolated in this blog space

There have been no visitors or comments on my blog which is rather strange and eerie.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Web of Love

Handfuls of rose petals fluttered down to rest on the moist soil at the side of the grave, pink and yellow tokens of affection from the few friends gathered there. Her family were long gone. She had no children. The only other people audience to her last journey were two grave diggers, sleeves rolled up, arms resting on their shovels, waiting for the event to be over so they could recommence their proper employ.

Alan was bent forward over the gaping wound in the earth where the highly polished coffin rested with his dear wife Eva safely ensconced. His lips moved wetly in silent conversation. We watched his gaunt hands shaking as he plucked handfuls of her favourite flower petals and scattered them over the gleaming perfection of the last piece of furniture she would ever own. It seemed a pity that the ornate brass handles would soon be rusting beneath the ground. Alan had spared no expense to ensure her comfort before and after her passing. She was always wont to gracefully acknowledge his efforts. The coffin interior was richly padded with silk and white velvet. Her body eroded by bone cancer had been painfully thin, a skeleton being whose eyes burned intensely fierce with a life now snuffed by her maker. We do not choose the manner of our passing, we endure.

I was her friend for twenty five years. My mother had been her closest friend for the previous twenty years. We grew close after cancer claimed my mother. I was eighteen. My mother’s youngest daughter, I was floundering in grief which pulled us together and bound us in reminisces of times past. My two elder sisters had husbands; one had two children and the other had a flourishing career that took up the time. They tucked her neatly away in a compartment labelled ‘parent passed on, sad, but it happens’ and went on with their lives. I drowned in an inconsolable ocean of grieving, that left me waking in the middle of the night my pillow wet with tears. I paced the floor of my room and the length of my flat in the early hours of the morning for months, nursing a cup of camomile tea sweetened with honey. Sipping to soothe my anxious spirit, I would collapse with dramatic gestures rubbing my forehead, grabbing handfuls of my hair and pulling on it. Tears would trickle down my cheeks and I would give way to an aching sadness that was both self pitying and destructive. I went from a healthy seventy kilos to fifty five kilos in two months. I am 185 centimetres tall.

I cried that my mother would never see me married. Actually nobody did. I am not married to this day. Relationships yes, but they all lacked something that might have made me want to spend the rest of my life with them. They had neither my father’s sturdy reliable nature nor his good looks nor did they have the devotion of Eva’s husband Alan. These were the two men whose desirable character traits I aspired to find in my potential soul mates. I cried that I could never tell her about the wonderful things that my husband would do for me.

I cried that she would never see my children. I cried that she would never play with my babies, bounce them on her knees and coo over them. I cried for the confidences that we would never exchange over tea and scones while the children played outside on toys she would buy especially for them when they came to visit. I still do not have children. Instead of looking for a man to console me and to marry me – I cried alone at the kitchen table, in the shower, sitting in the lounge room staring blankly at the TV. I would go out and cry alone in coffee shops or in cinemas or on park benches. Eva saved me from myself.

She came to my flat one night about 9.30. Rather late considering she was in her fifties and I was a young girl of nearly 19. I nearly did not open the door. It was only her voice calling out.

‘Louise, Louise, it’s me. Eva. Open up please!’ The urgency in her voice persuaded me to open the door. She was as elegant and ethereal as always. Her dark hair swept back and neatly coiffured into French roll. She was precise in her appraisal of my state. Taking a quick look at my emancipated frame and red puffy face she made some rapid decisions for both of us.

‘Get some things together. You are coming to stay with Alan and I.’ Dumfounded I stared at her stupidly.

‘Why?’ I asked her. She looked at me as if I had asked one of the stupidest questions in the history of humankind.

‘I need you. That’s why.’ She replied tartly and brushed past me. ‘You won’t need much. Dressing gown, tooth brush, undies, some cosmetics and a change of clothes. We’ll get the rest of your things tomorrow. Come on now.’ She was impatient to get underway. She later told me she had had a dream about my mother two nights in a row . In the dream my mother who was much younger was handing her a beautiful baby girl. In both dreams she had woken up in a cold sweat after she had received the baby and accidently dropped her. That was why she had come to check up on me.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

A long time in between posts

but I am slowly navigating the world of Blogging and am trying to move in circles where I can get paid to blog on a daily basis.
I am thinking to start an Education Blog and a Anti Bully Blog.