Rio Tinto blasts indigenous heritage site to smithereens....must be Sorry Day 2020

https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2020/may/26/rio-tinto-blasts-46000-year-old-aboriginal-site-to-expand-iron-ore-mine

And from First Dog on the Moon:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/may/27/a-sacred-site-showing-46000-years-of-continual-occupation-and-its-completely-legal-to-blow-it-up

Here in Australia yer canna make this stoof oop!

Take it away AB original! January 26

Lyrics

You can call it what you want
But it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing
Fuck that, homie
You can come and wave your flag
But it don't mean a thing to me
No, it just don't mean a thing
Fuck that, homie

You can call it what you want
But it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing
Fuck that, homie
You can come and wave your flag
But it don't mean a thing to me
No, it just don't mean a thing
Fuck that, homie

They said, "Hey Briggs, pick a date" (okay)
"You know, one we can celebrate" (for sure)
"Where we can come together
Talk about the weather, call that Australia Day"

I said, "How about March 8th?" (That's a good one)
And we can do it on your Nan's grave (got that, bitch?)
We can piss up, piss on her face
Get lit up and burn out like Mark Skaife

They screamin' "love it or leave it" (love it)
I got more reason to be here, if you could believe it
Won't salute a constitution or who's underneath it
Turn that flag to a noose, put a cease to your breathin'

I can't get in my whip, I get a ticket for that
I get a DWB, and that's a "Driving Whilst Black"
I turn the other cheek, I get a knife in my back
And I tell 'em it hurts, they say I overreact
So fuck that (fuck that)

You can call it what you want
But it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing
(Hey Briggs!) Fuck that, homie
You can come and wave your flag
But it don't mean a thing to me
No, it just don't mean a thing

I said celebrate the heretic anytime outside Jan 26 (anytime)
That's the date for them suckers doin' that sucker shit (that's true)
That's that land takin', flag wavin' attitude
Got this new Captain Cook dance to show you how to move (move it)

How you wanna raise a flag with a rifle
To make us want to celebrate anything but survival?
Nah, you watchin' telly for The Bachelor
But wouldn't read a book about a fuckload of massacres? (What?)

I remember all the blood and what carried us (I remember)
They remember 20 recipes for Lamingtons (yum)
Yeah, their ancestors got a boatride
Both mine saw them comin' until they both died

Fuck celebratin' days made of misery (fuck that)
White Oz still got the black history (that's true)
And that shirt will get you banned from the parliament
If you ain't havin' a conversation, well, then we startin' it

You can call it what you want
But it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing
Fuck that, homie
You can come and wave your flag
But it don't mean a thing to me
No, it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing

Nah, it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing
Nah, it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing
Nah, it just don't mean a thing
No, it just don't mean a thing
Nah, it just don't mean a
Motherfuckin' thing
No, it just don't mean a thing

Wave it, wave it, baby
Wave it, wave it (eat the flag)
Wave it, wave it mama
Wave that flaggy (wear the flag)
Wave it, wave it, baby (what you gonna do?)
Wave it, wave it (wave it, baby)
Wave it, wave it mama
Wave that flaggy

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Adam Briggs / Daniel Leo Sultan / Daniel Hendle Rankine

January 26 lyrics © Mushroom Music Pty. Ltd., Sony/atv Music Publishing Allegro (aust) Pty, Mushroom Music Pty Ltd, Blue Max Music Pty Ltd

Meanwhile:

As the rubble settles post federal election Australia 2019 and what the anarchists had to say

seems the anarchists decided...

(Published late as it sat in draft fer a long time, coming' ter terms with itself like)

Aye, I were looking forward ter Liberal voting folk turning oop ter work on first Monday morning after election. Revitalised. Gloating and thinking soomhow, they can do owt they like on less than 50% of vote. Got a mandate ter be greedy an' look after number one. An particularly I were looking oot for thems that believe the election outcome was a blow against Labor's pact with the unions. Conversations pop and down the red-land along the lines..."Well gaffer, after Saturday's results yer can take away me annual leave entitlement. Sick leave? Don't need it! Poot it terwoords yer obscene sack of profit - yer wurk hard man! Goaan then exploit oos, its joost the natural order of things. Yer deserve ter exploit me because Im daft as a brush, still believin' in the trickle down effect fairy! As fer that sooper stuff, putting in terwards me retirement. Me? Iam gonna work until I drop dead or if yer have ter retrench oos outta door like the would be grand. Gissus another opportunity ter start over working the tills at Woolies or cleaning the floors at sum big office downtown. Aye, its me own time I can wurk a few hours then be stood down fer a four hour break in the day and coom back fer another couple of hours graft. Nae bover! I'll graft like yew and save me pennies, give em ter the banks ter hold in interest free accounts ter save me own. After all the banks are doing it tough. Me? I'm no leaner. Aw right canny, yer spot on, Im not a boss! Gig economy put me blinkers and harness on an' let me go. So what if I have ter work twelve hours, boot you'll only pay me fer eight? How good is a job man! Aye and forget about all that work, health and safety malarky. Joost a pile of red tape getting in way of progress, have ter be agile. Its down to oos wurkers ter pay attention and not fall off things or have things drop on oos."An if I gets Sick, weell, its joost tight I should be on me own like. Me own fault for not takin' care of us-self.

Did they have that conversation? Did they hell, bollocks. It were all "We won!" We stuck it oop them unions." The winner gives oop nowt an the losers get further cuts ter their work and living conditions. An took the young, they gotta stand on their own feet and pay their way. Except me own, neo-lib young that is!

Aye, it were depressing. Most of all how it gutted a united progressive movement that believed there was a shift in thinking. Backed not by polls boot from asking folk ter list their concerns leading into election. It were an election for change that delivered a dysfunctional and inept government back into power to continue wrecking the social infrastructure, and stamping on a future that would be fair to all - marketing over substance, continued wealth fer the wealthy. The wurd tha stuck in the craw? Aspiration. Only the lifters are canny on that one. I aspire ter empty the tax payers till and give wads of cash ter folk who don't need it. Selective sports rorts. Aye the media had their part to play but mostly it were the inability of the progressive folk ter persuade folk that Bill Shorten was a future. Aye yon fatty Palmer chucked cash aboot, boot we did not bring folk along with us. The big bad unions trope (despite the worse union representation since the Industrial Revolution) worked its creaky spell. Labor can't manage money- and despite the evidence of colossal coalition government waste over the last six years - folk believed Morrison and co were the gnomes of Zurich. Steady hands on the tiller - despite the ship of state being missing. How many months in a leaky boat?

Climate change. What can I say. Morrison: Nowt ter see here? Oh, me in me cap pictured in drought stricken farmland. Nowt ter see. Pictures of the dried out Murray Darling. Aye nowt a bit of rain won't fix. Oh and by the way, the rights ter that rain 'WHEN' it falls belongs ter business. Yer will have ter pay to get a cup of it. Nae leaning mind! We''ll give one of our cronies sum public cash ter sell yer some hay bales. Think nothing of that. Boot it wurked.

The one man band ScoMo, man of the people, fer the people as long as yer don't interfere with religion. Pictures of him praying at Hillsong. Fook me and I thought this were a secular, inclusive country - not driven by because I go ter church and am seen woorshipping makes me righteous and a compassionate leader. Is this the future of politics? Elections. No substance. No accountability fer what you do. Spin fer sake of spin and half truths and outright lies accepted as fact because by the time yer ask the question, the caravan is long gone.

Aye, we had door knocked leading oop ter election. Folk didn't like our campaign. Didn't trust Bill Shorten boot believed the murdoch media, the big bad unions were gonna hold them captive ter improved wages an non-flexible work conditions - like permanent jobs. Growing a future. A fairer, more tolerant society. Labor can't be put in charge of grannies pension. And Morrison almost single-handily ran the neo-libs campaign. It worked. We lost and were gutted. Nowt mooch yer can say. Aye, it were reet depressing. Boot people spoke and voted fer government they wanted. Lets hope we learn from it and the damage over the next cycle is not so great, it gets tougher to have an alternative ter neo-lib capital and its acolytes.  

Thanks comrades! 

And in-between then and now, fires, floods and COVID- a recession.  People still think Morrison is the answer. The question though is "what is our future?" Already it is the most disadvantaged paying the price of recession. A bleak future for most, while the few continue to do well out of the wheels coming off the lucky country.

What did we learn? That you loose by not sitting on the fence. Big ideas lose folk. Snappy one liners, like spoonful of sugar, work. A future based on coal and development at the expense of the environment won. Our indigenous people, their place in our future, invisible on the hustings. Post election, the unions did not reflect on what had changed. That to grow we have to involve ourselves in the grass roots and not factions and infighting. Empower people who have little power to be involved in building a future that reflects them. Not to turn away from the big ideas but bring folk along with them. We all want a better future, its how we achieve this together for tha majority and not the few. A tough election to swallow. But a lesson none the less. The next day, the sun still rose, even if it were a bit harder ter appreciate the warmth it gave.

Old man grumbles a poem

Its nae foon

Getting’ awld

 

First

Ah dropped me 

Ice cream

On 

Che Guevara’s 

Heed

 

Then

Ah Peed

Doon tha side

Of me leg

 

Che’s heed

Were on

A tee shirt

The leg

S’ me own

 

Its bollocks

Getting awld

 

Oh, an thems

They

Ache

In the cold

The daughters of charity and wrestling with demons

Belgo Geordie undefined

Aah have been quiet as of late. 2020 - some year eh! Oh, ahm writing! Boot in me mid-sixties me past has come back her pay oos a visit. A decent woman in London, Angry Barnet, told oos aboot a report published by the Scottish Inquiry inta Child Abuse in care homes. Aye, it were in Scotland, a hundred miles from where me and both me older brothers were under care in Newcastle Upon Tyne. Boot same religious order in charge - the Daughter (or sisters) of Charity of St Vincent de Paul. The case study on Smyllum Park Orphanage (near Glasgow) were damning. Reading it were like a punch in the guts! Aye, there are folk who said they sailed thru sooch homes with nair a scratch on their paintwork boot for me, me bruthers, it were hell on earth and then soom!

Likewise, the many submissions on the likes of life in Smyllum Park. It made oos recall the ongoing cruelty of life oonder the care of these religious sisters. Their indifference ter the suffering of wee bairns and in soom cases, their enjoyment at teaching oos ter know our place in their world. By daily pooblic shaming, neglect and lectures aboot how we were so full of sin nae booger cared fer oos boot them! And thems were joost doing their duty - boot really, they had better things ter do - sooch as pray, take part in obscure religious practices. Run around like daft chooks afta pompous priests. Tellin' oos we were shite on the bottom of their sturdy shoes were joost part of their vocation. 

Troost in oos wee bairn...

Ah canna make sense of how three years of abuse has left such deep scars in all aspects of me life. Ten years of counselling in me thirties. Ah thought the ghosts were put ter bed and ah had moved on. Ah were not alcoholic, a droogie, nor voted tory. Ah never battered me partners, step children. Ah were not a great dad, boot aah were responsible. Ah cared the best ah could fer the two bairns in me life. One coot me dead after ah left her ma. She were already an adult. Her decision, her choice boot it were grievous. Ah had raised her over seventeen years. Ah deserved better. Her values and mine were close, we both loved books and valued thinking. Boot she tole oos ah were not her da! Tha blood shite has a lot her answer for!

The other daughter is as far from those values. Boot now in her late twenties, she shows me a loyalty ah barely deserve. Ah gave her support through her teenage years, boot it were tough love. Neither me nor her mam were going ter be doormats fer her to wipe her big feet on. She had her own ghosts we knew nowt about. When they came oot, over a year ago, she is soodenly lighter within her own skin. Aye, the damage caused by her carrying a secret for over ten years that were eating her alive. Having her mam hear her pain and not turn away (she did nowt wrong, as always a boy wrecking a young life without thought- made worse by it was incest within her extended family and her cousins and sum of his siblings turned on her). All those years she were in a lonely, dark place trying ter make sense of that an' her changing body and oonderstand who she were, was going ter become or wanted ter be. Not them. Not when the cost of belonging is ter be treated like yer got what yer deserved. Aye, she still gets bouts of depression through loneliness, barely talks her her many cousins, boot now she better oonderstands why and more importantly, reaches out when she has to, ter her mam and blubs, snots and talks. And she knows these feelings, will pass and they do.

Me brutha digging fer fossils-overseen by a paedophile

Then there is my older, surviving brother. This year, ah was the first person he told in detail the sexual and emotional abuse he went through. He told me he didn't thank me for 'making' him remember like. Aye we put it down in writing and made it a submission ter English inquiry. His recall? Like my recall, like the recall of survivors of Smyllum, St Mary's Tudhoe and St Vincent's Mill Hill. Summat that is close ter evil from thems daughters of charity. Soom may not have set oot ter do harm, boot their indifference to our suffering speaks loudly. It told me - there is no God as they defined - all seeing, compassionate - a protector of little children. Utter bollocks! And fer me that has niver changed. In response ter inquiry, the order said it were an aberration. No it were not! They were following the instructions of their order. Aye, where have we heard that afore in history. The fascist justification fer cold blooded cruelty. And worse, oos bairns they looked after 'so well' are joost money grubbing, compensation seeking, anti Catholic spongers. 

Aye, I wondered why "I" threw me life off the tracks, joost aboot descended inter madness in me teenage years, almost killed me self and then continued ter mess oop me relationships with women, me family and work. Ah moost have been thinking aboot how ter lodge that compensation claim with Vatican! And how ter live a rich life on their '20 pieces of tarnished silver' the choorch throws towards oos survivors of their neglect. Which only a tiny percentage of claimants live long enough ter get. Me brothers and me niver asked for nor received owt! Not quite true, we did ask fer summat! Information from Catholic Care. Ter be listened to by them stuffed penguins from choorch, thems tha told me ter me face, ah were nowt boot a liar! 

Back ter me brother. Like the daughter, he is now mooch lighter. He talks aboot stoof long buried. Not all of it bad. Some lighter moments are trickling through. Nae, it is me who has coom crashing down. Yer can tell from the above, there is lightening flashes of anger boot that sits atop of despair an exhaustion. The despair that counselling did not fix. That a fissure still goes down ter me core and when ah reflect on who ah am, who ah have become, ah struggle to like the person ah am. Let alone the child of four to seven who were abused in ways beyond reckoning. Yer can tell cos what ah know, it does not change oos! Ah try ter be kind ter memory and the wee bairn ah was. It's a struggle. Ah still woork, a responsible job. An naw at times, ah can barely do. Ah'm exhausted!

Read the Smyllum report and see if yer think bairns can live through that and not be damaged? What has shaken me is ah do not like who ah was then, the bairn ah were. Shame. Deep pockets of shame. Dark, biting bile, acidic - that are part of who ah am. Soon times ah can run, stay ahead or say ah don't care, boot ah sigh a lot. Anxiety tells oos ah'm nowt. How dare ah hold down a big job, be a good husband an think ah've done a good thing with me life. That is what ah owe the daughters of charity and the Catholic Church. That is what bubbles oop ter confront me through this. And in my last years of life, it is a fight not ter let it define who ah am. An being a fighter has exhausted me. Boot a fighter ah remain.

Ah thought writing would bring it into light. Boot lately ah have been reminded of Primo Levi who asked why he had survived (the holocaust) and at what cost? At whose expense? What did ah do that let me at least live a life. How did ah get ter the point where ah had almost insulated the past? 

If ah thought the experience had made me stronger, ah were wrong. Ah was strong, boot cracks were running through us that could never be fully fixed. Smyllum was summat that pulled the marrow out of me bones and it is taking time ter recover. Ah went swimming in the winter ocean. Let the icy water turn oos blue. Walking on beaches, in the national park. Just walking because that allows me ter think. Ah have a lot ter be grateful for. There are many folk who have had it much worse. Out there are so many survivors and ah pay them a shared debt of gratitude. For speaking oop and out against cruelty ter bairns, women, people of colour, the vulnerable with no voice. This time will pass. Ah will coom back ter meself, mabbe a bit more battered, feeling bruises. Ah tell meself, those ghosts of religious sisters and their cruelty will not and cannot define me. Boot in the silence of a Saturday afternoon in me living room in Sydney, ah hurt and grieve.

An' George Pell is flying back ter Rome today. Funny wurld! Probably her ask yon pope for his job back counting Vatican shekels. Since his release from prison he was living in religious house in Sydney, no doubt being waited on hand and foot by religious sisters. Drinking fine wine and eating oot with his mates at expensive Sydney eateries. Classy! Boot ther man who were too sick and frail in 2016 ter fly in from Rome fer a Royal Commission hearing inta sexual abuse in Australia - had no difficulty getting back on a flight ter Rome this week. Tsk. Foony awld wurld George! No sign of yer walking stick or frailties in yon media images. An' noo, snaps with yon pope! Wot a lad yer are! An, yon pope? Shame on the man!

Ah'm currently reading "The Case of George Pell - Reckoning With Child Sexual Abuse by Clergy" by Melissa Davey. Aye, noted George! The finest brief money can buy, an further examples of how ter use the legal system ter undermine and destroy anyone who dares ter take on choorch. An' in this case a powerful representative of that body. It is the brave man who stood tall in court, were credible and who said his encounter with Pell and his miserable choorch would not define him. Shame on the choorch and its lackeys does not even begin ter describe this encounter. The powerful and mighty trying ter crush an individual fer standing oop ter them. 

Yup, the verdict were set aside after yer did a bit of porridge. Boot the credibility of the witness against yer were not set aside. Legal technicalities got yer oot of clink man! Boot off yer fly, Rome calls bonny lad.

Like I have said previously, the evidence at the Royal Commission says all yer need ter know of Mr Pell's character. "I knew nowt, I supported a paedophile priest in court, boot I knew nowt. All these stories told ter me. Boot, I knew nowt. I were a powerful, on the rise heavy hitter, information were me currency fer clambering oop hierarchy. Boot I knew nowt about all this stoof. Yer have ter understand, it did not interest me. I were involved in getting me way ter top. Being the best conservative ah could be. More important things ter do. Had her fix the choorch back into 16th century. Put the hennies back in their cage! No time for those unfortunate children who alleged they were abused by clergy. Not my area. I were protected at meetings by my underlings etc etc...of course I feel sorry fer them. Damaged by trouble-makers, encouraged ter make oop stoof aboot ma beloved choorch...oh, gotta a job fer an old codger Francis - me awld marra?"

Lastly, what has helped me over this time, besides nature and Australia's motley collection of daft birdies, has been the support of me many friends and family. Me brother has been champion! Annoying boot champion. And Angry Barnet. Second ter none. Blogging like warrior queen. Political ter core and marra. She keeps tilting away at Daughters of Charity, giving light and oxygen ter stories of hurt, abuse and betrayal. Has joost blogged another piece on Daughters of Charity. All power ter yer quill lass! One of the best. Thank you all. And most of all me missus Mrs Belgo Geordie, keeping me focused - loving me fer who ah am. Knowing when ter tell oos ter pull me head in. Yer all what define me. 

Ah yer comin' oot soon pet? A'hm freezings me tits off here

"Are yer al-reet bairn?" "Aye, boot God, get yer act together like"

Go to www.childabuseinquiry.scot

Smyllum Park orphanage findings is under Case Study 1 on Daughters of Charity residential children's homes in Scotland. This led ter religious sisters and others being charged in a court of law.

"The Case of George Pell-Reckoning With Child sexual Abuse by Clergy" Melissa Davey. Journalist with Guradian Australia. Scribe. Published 2020. A forensic examination of the evidence in Pell's trials, and the trials themselves. Yer canna complain George, tha yer didn't get a fair hearing in this book. Yer still coom oot of it as not mooch of a human being.

The hairy eyebrowed narcissist - a short, shorn ballad

Scientists prove hairy eyebrows makes yer a narcissist

                    Who’d a thought eh!

                    Brezhnev, Healy and wor Frida

                    So tha’s why me wife

                    Holds me 'tween her knees,

                    More yewe than tup! 

                    An with her sheers

                    Trims me eyebrows.

                    Ter keep oos humble like !

 

                    I think I’ll just call by pond

                    And stare in watta

                    at me reflection

                    Staring back at oos…

 

                                                                                Sydney September 2020

Black Lives matter rally Sydney June 2020

Aah were not able ten make march yesterday, Saturday. Given I work with oldies. Aye, even awlder than me, it were not a risk aah can take. Boot this is an issue close ter my heart. Its time Australia finds peace with indigenous folk and listens ter stories and histories more than first fleet and a rag-bag of explorers claiming bits of sand as their own.

There were the predictable comments aboot 'white lives matter too!' The irony missed by folk saying this is that everyday government demonstrates this principle. As is said, if there were 400 unanswered white death's in custody - there would be outrage. Alan Jones's parrots would be screeching there nuts off ter be heard.

Me, aam pleased so many folk, and young folk took ter streets across the Red Land. That it were global. That we all need a wake oop call. Again, respect ter Raoul in centre of Sydney rally, the families as ever fighting the good fight and all they ask is justice. These placards were left ootside Central where the corrosive smell of pepper spray lingered on. Not necessary.

As for ScomoGladys crew. If yer were serious aboot wanting folk not ter march yer could have done summit aboot it. Implement the recommendations from the Royal Commissions inter Deaths in Custody. Take folk ter court who are negligent or criminal in their actions when exercising duty of care. Take yer finger off the button of using polis ter exercise social control. Give yourself a pay cut. Create meaningful jobs that rebuilds infrastructure (not boost roads and stadiums). Talk ter unions as if yer mean it. Listen ter the people and in particular? The first people of the land.

"Doesn't justice stand for all in white society?" Steel Pulse from Handsworth Revolution as beamed down through me ear phones this morning...

Blood is thicker than...dysfunctional families and blinded by the genes

Men...

Aye, I've had cause her think about this one. I had a falling oot with a marrer aboot family ties allus being more important than friendship. Blood yer know! Nowt folk shouldn't do fer family and a father for their bairns in particular. It came down ter me minding me own business and saying nowt about his bairns. Criticise his bairns and yer criticise him. Unconditional love versus tough love versus family over friendship. We were bound ter fall out on this one. And we did. And it is sad. I miss the friendship. Boot it got me thinking, which led ter picking oop me pencil and scratching stoof down on paper.

This marrer, in his sixties is not alone in this generation, the boomers, putting themself at risk fer the poor decisions and life choices made by their bairns. It may not be the majority boot enough ter make yer think where did we go wrong raising bairns who ter turn oot this way? We are talking aboot bairns that are now adults in their thirties and forties, boot who expect ageing parents ter continue ter support them as if they were still teenagers living at home. Im not talking aboot those who genuinely fall on hard times. Health, work, divorce. It's them that decide to do what they want ter do, and have no responsibility fer consequences and then show no appetite ter learn from their mistakes. A colleagues whose son bankrupted his parents by setting up a dodgy business and pulling plug knowing his parents, at the end of their working life, were going down with him. Didn't care and blamed his folks for not having more money ter draw on. Wanting his inheritance early like. They believed they should have done more ter support him! Me gob hit the floor on that one. I've watched as other colleagues give oop their retirement, mortgage their hooses ter support bairns making poor decisions. And then fall inter debt or have ter keep working when it falls apart and work while their health falls apart.

Chief

Then in me own family, at the start of the new year our chief (family patriarch - christian ter his core), asked Mrs Belgo ter forgive her niece fer stealing ten grand from oos eleven years ago. Aye, we said. When lass puts herself oot of front of our house with a mat over her head and explains why she did what she did and where the money went to (It's a Samoan thing). See, I believe folk should take responsibility fer their actions. If I stole ten grand I would be in court. Why should it be different rules joost because its yer bairns or family? Why should we forgive bad behaviour, when the person behaving badly doesn't change? Doesn't care? Another niece almost caused her da ter have a heart attack because she got pregnant, said she weren't, was, boot lied even as her belly swelled. When her da, as above christian ter core, family honour, shame etc, confronted her and her pregnant belly no floppy jumper could hide, she still lied! Claimed immaculate conception. Twelve years on, two grandchildren, she has been well and truly forgiven, boot, never, ever took any responsibility fer the grief and pain she caused her parents then. The irony were that this girl had stayed under our roof eighteen months before she became pregnant. Her da, the piller of his church, said she moost of got pregnant oonder our godless, communist roof. Mrs Belgo snorted she were not an elephant an it would be truly a miracle if yon pregnancy could run eighteen months. Moost be twins. The logic were lost on her stupid brother, who like most men look ter blame others fer faults of their bairns.

Forgiveness versus blindness. What is behind this belief that loyalty ter yer family and yer blood ties are more important than anything else in the world? That being a parent means sacrificing yer health and resources for bairns who squander such things and then don't respect you enough ter care for your well-being?  It got me thinking, as long before the friendship with me marrer developed, he had thrown at me that I would not oonderstand, as I didn't have bairns. He has three. Although I raised one step-bairn from age of four and another from 14. Boot they were not me blood! Therefore, what did I know?

Well, as it happens - a lot. Aye, I chose not ter have bairns, before I found I could not anyway. When I were 30, due ter a genetic condition doctor wanted ter test me sperm for fertility. The result were that there were so few live uns, they could talk ter each other by name. Chances of impregnating an egg? Zilch. Boot, it made no difference as I did not want bairns. It may have been different had I met Mrs Belgo twenty years earlier, boot we were different folk then, an' I were still trying ter deal with dysfunction - family dysfunction and including the utter shite talked aboot the importance of blood ties, genes and their place in a rational wurld. As spouted by me dad and me two brothers.

The effect of good step-parenting

My own parenting were not a success. I raised two step-bairns. They received all my support as they grew oop. One I raised fer 17 years. It were turbulent, boot they became an independent and confident adult. Intellectually far smarter than oos. When I left their mum, contact was eventually cut. The same argument, "yer were me step-dad, boot not blood". Fer me, it sounded like an easy way ter make a hard-choice. Their ma needed them more than they needed me in their life. Aye, folk said hang in there, they'll come around. Yer have ter keep giving support even when yer joost taken a kicking. Aye, fer a child boot not an adult. An adult should know when they have done wrong, if not, they may never know. And what then? I've always lived by judging a person by actions and not words. My actions were that for seventeen years I raised a child, not perfect, boot I made sure I was there for them and in their corner. I did the best I could. Their action were it did not amount ter enough to continue on. Not blood. Their own da, who were rarely there to give support, is still in their life and can do no wrong. Or is at least forgiven. Me? I don't count. Blood see.

The other princess

The second un has been in me life fer 14 years. They are not an easy bairn ter raise boot nearing the end of their twenties I see them starting ter make adult choices and decisions and standing on their own two feet. They expect nowt of oos as parents, except when the shite hits the fan, then yer provide enough support ter get her back on her feet and hope she learns. Its been a mix of tough love and second and third chances gone wrong. Boot for this bairn, she gets forgiveness each time there is a glimmer of insight inter her behaviour. For her, her male bloodline is a non-issue. Raised by her mum, then with me, she see her da for what he is - absent, uncaring and full of hot air. Their ma's line is where she sits more comfortably and ironically my brother, who she (the princess) wishes were her real da. He's not complicated, he doesn't lecture or confront her etc. Boot Samoans, in general, see family as those who raised you. In general.

Are they any less my bairns because they are not my blood. No. It were my sweat and toil that went inter parenting. I don't regret either being in my life or the one making her choice ter go her own way. The best thing I can give them as a parent is that they can stand on their own two feet, make mature decisions and where they fook-oop, take responsibility, deal with the consequences, learn and not make the same mistake again. Aye, I see bairns raised like that turning inta fine adults or at least their own person.

Flemish ter core

See, I grew oop fer a time with a father who lectured me endlessly about the importance of me family name, the Flemish genes - his genes. He were a lonely an' bitter man living in a foreign land (England). He was looked down on boot thought he were better than most of the English. After all, he liked ter claim he were descended from Vikings and look what they did ter the smug English! He didn't drink or gamble boot smoked like a chimney. He barely ate. He barely slept, had nightmares. He were not comfortable in his skin.

He had four children and a long dead wife. Three of the children were boys, so in his mind his seed, the future of his bloodline were safe. Boot only one boy procreated. This one also had four children and three were boys - boot none who have produced bairns and it is likely his or my dad's blood-line, leastwise the family name will die oot. Now a lot of folk believe in the laws of nature, aboot the strongest survive and all that shite. Me da was the strongest male I've ever encountered. Cruelly, coldly scientific, rationale, a communist and trade unionist ter boot. He believed in scientific destiny. He had the will-power of a steel hawser. He never took a step back when confronting injustice. He had a brain. Logic that sliced like a knife, wurds were his preferred weapons, boot his fists and feet were equally likely to win an argument, particularly when he was younger and when raising his headstrong sons. Aye, if yer stood oop ter him, or lost an argument, oot trotted the judgement "Yer no son of mine!" Families, eh! That he could be a communist, survived the nazis and still believe in the tripe of bloodlines made me blood run cold. Still does. The nazis were big on the importance of blood and heritage. Nationalism is all about this tripe. Im better than you because of where I am from. My family first, the rest of you can hang. It's why I think it is a dangerous crock of shite ter spout.

And ter be frank there were times when I were happy if it were ter be the case that I was not my father's son. Me oldest brother, the intellectual always said I was a Chinaman's (I was born with jaundice) or me ma had shagged the milkman as I was as thick as two short planks. Why he thought a milkman was likely ter be thick is another matter. Racial superiority? Thinking yer better than other folk. All bollocks. Not ter be me da's like, or related ter me elder brother was at times, not the insult they intended boot a bit of a gift. Part of not wanting ter have children were aboot not wanting ter be like me da. All the battering, the game-playing, the over-inflated importance and male-line family pride. His definition of what a man were. Not a sheep, boot a lone wolf dependent on no one. Aye, well I knew all aboot howling at the moon. It were a fierce time being raised by sooch a man and it took me a long time ter work oot what it was I learned from him. I was 14 when he died. I went wild. At 15, I left school and ended oop living on the other side of the world from England. I was a dick-head, possessive, a shite lover and bad at keeping intimate relationship. I also thought I was superior because of where I came from. Part of what saved me was having friends. See from the ages of four ter eleven, I didn't have friends. A combination of institutional care and that I was unlikeable, a mess. I lied, I stole, I cheated, I lived only ter survive and in a bad way, did, joost. When I look back, I don't like the person I was. But as an orphan, cut off from me siblings, I had ter learn ter stand on me own feet. These were hard lessons. Making and keeping friends were another lesson learned.

Its a family affair

As a communist, I know the stupidity behind this blood-line argument. Its why communism set oot ter breakdown the shackles of family, as well as religion, the other toxic force. It's not that family is not important. More important is facing it full on. See it fer what it is, warts and all. Instead of continuing a dysfunctional family, find ways ter repair the family connections. Dysfunction, as I see in my family, continues generation after generation. We, all four kids were scarred by it. Yer can't joos accept it because it's blood. If yer do, nowt changes. If yer treat yer kids with respect and they don't return it, hold them ter account. Otherwise how do they learn? How do they change? See joost because the sperm hits an egg don't make yer a natural parent. Yer have ter work at it. learn from yer mistakes. Improve. Learning from mistakes is ter know what they are and face oop ter them. Sometimes the decisions yer make as a parent, the actions yer take are hard. Tough love. Boot we shy away from them because it is hard to hold those we love most ter account. Boot not doing so means nowt changes. When yer die, they live on, what they learn they pass on ter their bairns. An' if it is the book of excuses, never my fault, never able ter admit wrong-doing, yer end oop with parents teaching their bairns these values. Yer not responsible pet! Joost carry on with tantrums and thinking yer better than anyone else.

Friends can help yer with this stoof. Ter make sense and give a bit of a sounding board. To let you hear what yer might not like. As long as it is done with love and respect.

I acknowledge some boomers were, generalising, overall crap parents. We came oot of being raised with blind obedience. We were not great on setting limits on our bairns. We wanted ter stop the battering which were good, boot setting limits and encouraging discipline - there I think we failed. We also had it good. Free education, housing, health access and jobs with career paths. From that we are, on the whole (except if yer are a woman, separated or raised bairns) we became resource rich, mortgage free, good superannuation, longevity with reasonable health. We also told our bairns they could have a better life than ours while taking away the society we had grown top in replacing it with user pays and creating a divisive two tiered of have and have not. It is no wonder some of our bairns think entitlement is a right and some feel ripped off and angry. Boot in me line of work, I see a lot of boomers doing all they can ter look after their parents as they age and die. Not so much their kids looking after them mind. Blood and family lines is funny stuff.

A man's best friend ..

And everyone's best friend

Me great, great nan blind and still kind

Darwinism has a lot ter answer for and the way folk interpret biology and the passing on of blood and family. Not ter mention christianity. See men believe it is their blood line that is passed on and continues the family line. Mitochondria, the vital powerhouse of our cells*, is what makes oos-oos. It is passed on through women by women. Only women, Not the male line. For all of me da's posturing and bragging, my family line is my ma's. Geordie, North of England, descendants of reavers (border folk with a bad reputation joostly earned), enough mariners ter salt me blood and add in a dose of Fenian, a lot of Scots, communists and socialists an yer have strong lineage that continues ter today. Sadly the political side died with the last generation of Tyneside workers. And a hopeless love of a football team that sometimes gets it together ken lift yer hopes of better times. Those are the values I have tried ter pass on to me step-bairns. Ter treat folk with respect, be honest, work and do things fer yer community and those who have less or have fallen on hard times. Every Saturday night me great gran used ter set a place at the table ter feed someone who was alone or not travelling well. She had twelve bairns herself and looked after other family members before their were a welfare state. She were a christian and a socialist and our matriarch. At least some of her kids and descendants (and I'd like ter think me) carried that on. Although in my case ah have nowt ter do with religion.

Fer all of me da's posturing only ma poor sister, childless, could have passed on his bloodline (or his mother's ter be precise). And he disposed ma sister claiming she were never his! She were not strong enough, had mental health issues, so he kicked her oot. Aye, boot what is passed on is the stoof like, she were a dead ringer fer him, as were all four of his bairns, we all have our da's looks. As fer his name? In Belgium it died oot, him being the only one ter have bairns in his family. Which were in decline before second war. His male grandchildren don't have bairns and are unlikely ter do so. His only granddaughter is joost 15.

Me sister

So what is passed on through the male line appears mostly irrelevant in the 'survival of the species'. Boot what men pass on through parenting, tellin' oos sons what it is ter be a man or leading through fists, ter show might is right. That frames bairns and their view of the world. Aye it took me a long time ter work oot the batterin' me da gave oos, he did when I were a bairn and couldn't fight back. Tha' it were one-sided. No matter what ma brothers said, these were fights I would never win, behind closed doors facing a psychopath.

Boot then, I allus acknowledge there were things he did pass on. He were a different man in his work, ootside the hoose. He were political ter the marrow. Allus questioning. Rarely taking a step back. When he finally got a chance at education, he shone. I acknowledge he never had a childhood, living under occupation, being a resistant from the age of 14. He had an equally violent, psychopathic father who died when me da was 13. See how dysfunction recycles? My older brother was the carbon copy of his dad but without children. I cut all contact with him in my twenties and never regretted it. Even when he killed hiself aged 62. I mourned boot did not regret not having him in my life. He were blood, boot bad blood. Aye, unless yer break the cycle, history repeats. Sometimes when bairns do the wrong thing, parenting is aboot standing oop ter them, telling them ter their face and letting them sort oot their shite. Give em help when its needed like when they are young, boot when it is earned after they become adults.

What this has made me reflect on is the damage cause by male pride. How this belief tha' blood is the be all, end all is joost superstition and ego. Aye, a female politician in Queensland attacked the premier because they have no children, like with Julia Gillard. As if the only important function in life is spawning bairns?  Somehow the myth is parenthood is sacrosanct. Parents holy and better than non-parents. Aye, ten years working as a counsellor told me that is a crock of shite. Dysfunctional families are because people don't see parenting as a skill yer have ter learn. That it involves mistakes boot it also means teaching yer bairns ter live a good life, respect others, respect the world and try ter make it a better place fer future generations. Instead we teach greed, narcissism and that yer don't have ter take responsibility fer what yer do and how yer behave. Yer folks will always catch yer no matter what the cost to them for doing so. And forgiveness? Not genuine, more time passed and the poor behaviour buried deep oonder carpet.

My life and having deeper friendships than family ties has taught me different values. I still think of friends I had that were closer than family. David Lamb, Joey Wall, Adam Dale, Pearce, Mike, Red Danny, Diane, Debbie, Anita, Moira, Knox when he were a friend, the two mad Irishmen, Tessa, and the irrepressible saxophone playing solo dad. Most faded back in time boot still important. Giving me lessons I have not forgotten. I thought what matters most is how decent folk are, can be. Tha folk who want ter make the wurld a better place fer all, not joost their kids, are the ones we should admire. Aye and though I love my surviving brother and my sad, ailing sister, and I adore one of my nephews, I would not sacrifice my wife for any one of them. My wife is my best and closest friend. She is my rock, my moral compass, my real family. I don't always like it, boot I listen to her. She tells me stoof ter me face. I moan and whinge boot most of the time she is right and I learn. Likewise, I am not scared ter tell her ter her face if I think something she is doing or has done is wrong or misguided. These are when they occur, hard conversations boot based on mutual respect. An' I stand back a healthy distance as she were taught ter box by her older brothers, once a champion, and she has a mean right cut.

Red Danny in his postman's coat

Mrs Belgo

One of the areas we regularly discuss is blood ties. She comes from a culture where family is all important. Where as an outsider I see the hypocrisy and sham that passes as family, kith and kin caring or looking out for each other. Where tradition and protocol are used to cover all sorts of selfish and greedy behaviour and where sometimes it works and you see what a functioning family can achieve when they act out of respect and true love for one another. (It is a culture that over-rates sentimental love that would put Hollywood ter shame). By being up-front to one another Mrs Belgo and I can talk aboot our differences without falling oot.
We give each other support when it gets rough sooch as when she was forced by her elder brothers ter take control of burying a particularly toxic family member. They didn't want ter get their chiefly hands mucky so little sister, the family brains, was put oot on a limb to steer through the extended family politics. Of course she would never be good enough! Her bloodline (she has a different da), puts her on the back foot and that since becoming a mature adult she has steadfastly refused ter play the family game (of thrones - a verbal version beloved ter this culture infused with doses of hypocritical christian cant). It is never easy on her.

pearce in london

The lovely Deborah

A banana with the irishman

So, ter say I don't oonderstand the role blood plays in humanity is disrespectful. I've been on the receiving end of the argument most of my life. At 64 I get it, boot I think it is crap used to cover poor behaviour, bad decision making and being a doormat ter bairns in particular, who think nowt of walking over other folk and particularly their parents. There is nothing sacred in children. The world is full of bairns. Many without parents or families. Most would not know if they are attached ter a blood-line or not. Like religion, the sacredness of family is a myth of its own making, yer have ter believe in fer it to continue. Durst it make the wurld a better place? No, more like the opposite. It wastes resource. It sacrifices our sense of who we are and what is important in life. I come back to, following it blindly does not make the world a better place and humans are running out of time. To keep holding onto something when it corrodes will only hasten our demise. Me I like the idea of all of oos being family being descended from mitochondrial Eve, from Africa 200,000 years ago.* If only I could dance...

Friends for ever

*Bill Bryson - The Body" (2019) This is a great read on science and our understanding of the human body and its functions (and limitations). It outlines women and their role in our genetic make-up and how we sell them short as unimportant. Time for a change. The stuff on mitochondria is in the chapter 'Into the Nether Regions' pages 283-284. It also has the great sentence "For most of recorded history we have known shockingly little about women and how they are put together." I concur Mr Bryson. Mrs Belgo Geordie is frequently a mystery that durst not diminish over time. And Mr Bryson talks aboot our descent from one source, oot of Africa.