K’Naan and the price of getting merry

Muslims Jews and Christians war, no one’s left to praise the Lord (k’Naan)

One of my bestest friends phoned last Wednesday to invite me to a gig. Guy called K’Naan, Somalian, rap meets genuine melody, without the cheese of Nelly and other Western excuses for entertainment.

Of course, we had to stand through several warm-up acts. Which in hindsight could never be more than lukewarm against the heat of K’Naan. I’m sure that in a few years time these warm-up acts will be best-selling artists I tell my Godchildren I saw in person. But at the time they were rather generic.

K’Naan was fascinating.

At this point I would like to bring in his personal history, but my internet connection is intermittent at best, and K’Naan’s site – which I am told in good faith provides several recipes for superior weed – is a blank page with a message telling me the connection has timed out.

Thus I refer to his lyrics, which speak for themselves.

At one point he asks his audience: “Are you hardcore, really hardcore?” and then says that growing up in Somalia was the grittiest ghetto there is. What I loved about that song was his attack of 50 cent and other “hardcore” rappers. What I didn’t love was the competitive edge. He has a point, but I’m sure a kid his age from Rwanda would have similar, if not more relevant, claims to growing up in the worst ghetto there is.

Africa is a huge continent. I wandered into a shop selling ‘African’ food in Peckham on Tuesday and asked for mealie pap, only to be answered with blank stares. Speak Swahili to a Namibian or Zulu to a Nigerian, offer Mopane worms to a Senegalese or ask the Djibouti football team for their World Cup credentials and there is no understanding. Africa is apparently a poverty-striken continent; tell that to the millionaires living in JoBurg. The entire continent is a warzone; discuss that idea with those finally enjoying peace. There are many similarities, but far more differences between countries across Africa. The similarities appear to be more tragic than the differences, and yet the differences have a capitalist edge that render them ultimately more tragic than the similarities.

Somalia has issues and K’Naan has done bloody well for himself. He has some very pertinent and compassionate points to make. He also has a beautiful singing voice when he reverts from his eloquent rapping. A great night.

Bloody expensive though. And my friend’s boyfriend arrived later in a foul mood. Several costly beers later and he cheered up slightly. All in all a night that was measure by the quality of the entertainment and the quantity of the till receipts. Worth it, in my opinion.

films and an attempt at a top ten

Watching Jerry Maguire again.

I rarely watch films more than once and if I do, there’s something special that draws me to it. When Harry Met Sally, Pulp Fiction, The Birdcage, Gigi, Ghostbusters, Singing in the Rain, Lock Stock and 2 Smoking Barrels, The Fisher King and Beauty and the Beast, they are the ones I will watch wherever, whenever if I have the chance. I hope the list gets a little longer soon, there aren’t any films in that list from the 21^st century.

Charismatic as Tom Cruise is, what I love about this film is the relationship between Marcy and Rod Tidwell (and Renee Zellweger doing both geeky and vulnerable). “My whole life is this family and it cannot function without him,” she weeps into the phone. She is mouthy and passionate and he is self-obsessed and cocky. It’s a film and therefore difficult to associate with real life – especially when everyone has such great teeth – but they love each other and they work as a couple. The significance of Maguire’s relationship with Dorothy is only relevant against the backdrop of theirs. It’s easy to be sidetracked by the “cute kid in glasses” (prizes for the tv connection) but he is the reason for their relationship, they are the paradigm.

The film also has sport in it. Unfortunately it’s American, but having tried to rewrite it as an English classic involving a spin bowler and an Oxbridge sports agent I realise Crowe got it right.

Reading the list again I’m glad Lock Stock is in it, I might otherwise have been tempted to include Notting Hill. Good as a lot of English films are, my top ten has mainly American exports. Number 10 is actually Amelie and not Jerry Maguire, but as soon the words “top ten” have tapped through the keyboard I’m plagued by more and more films that deserve note. Like Rob in High Fidelity, I find it difficult to decide on a list when it feels like it matters.

Read Persuasion last weekend. I love Jane Austen. She waxes lyrical in this one and it doesn’t surprise me to discover it was her last novel. I find 2 Timothy as moving. I read it as Paul’s last letter to Timothy (once you’ve removed the less Pauline sections!) and have found myself in tears. I may have been menstruating at the time, but it still takes a bit of sentimental cheese to get the tear glands going. If you haven’t read Persuasion I recommend it hugely, especially if you’re over one and twenty. If you’re a man then you’re a potential husband for many many years yet so it might serve you better to learn the rules of American football, write a screenplay and make women across the globe swoon.

work and the power of prayer

Already my second week is over. The job is great. Not that I’ve said that out loud, there’s still the nagging fear I could lose it at any time, which is odd since I’ve never had a warning, let alone been sacked.

It is so good to have a real job again! I get to think and write and communicate and ponder and fiddle with all the Office programs I can legitimately use.

However, it is a daunting prospect. For what are probably all the wrong reasons. It is a Christian organisation and the HR department are very into the power of prayer. I am a liberal christian, which means I have an open mind in so many ways and generally defer to the Lord when I’m feeling judgemental. But I get embarrassed and righteously prudish when people spout blessings and prayers in the comfortable and easy way that most people discuss last night’s tv.

So finding out that not only was my position prayed over (and the fact I found it by pure accident is portent in itself) but that I was the only one interviewed on faith is pretty scary. I feel like Jonah on a pleasure cruise to Ninevah… I want to turn the boat around and go anywhere but. Life is that much easier when it feels like your own stupid accident and your attempts to make it ‘worthy’.

The paradox: do you believe that God has a definite plan for you and therefore focus on him to the extent that you rely on him and find a confidence rooted not in ‘self’ but in Christ? Or do you continue as you are with the hope/fear that God has a plan for you and focus on doing the best you can, taking the credit if you fail and thanking God if you succeed?

Perhaps not technically a paradox.

I may always lean towards the latter. I told a therapist (it was free) that I didn’t want to gain self-confidence because I didn’t deserve to feel that way about myself. Boo fucking hoo. If I spent as much time practising the guitar as I did feeling sorry for myself I’d be the single white female Jimi Hendrix right now.

I am, at the moment excited and pleased about my job. I hope it lasts and I hope to God that the prayers did hit their mark. All I know is I’m going to work as hard as I can. That will be my attempted testament to the power of prayer.

moving on

I command you - be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1 v.9)

I have a new job. It's all very exciting and very very nerve-wracking. It has been a few months since I've had a job that was difficult and was genuinely interesting, which should make this a good thing. Except that I've screwed up before and I'm scared I'll screw up again.

One of my best mates has a downstairs toilet in which her Mum had put up laminated quotations and poems. I would find myself absorbed in reading the walls and the ceiling, then get embarrassed and feel I had to explain away my long absense. Like those squirmish moments in Bridget Jones without the adorable looks and ultimate happy ending. So it was from a young age that I knew the piece of wisdom:

Work like you don't need the money;
dance like no one is watching;
sing like no one is listening;
love like you've never been hurt;
and live life every day as if it were your last.

The last one is a bullshit piece of existentialist self-obsession. Living as if every day were your last would make the objective of each action yourself, your own impact upon the world and perhaps your own standing with God. One of the bravest things to do in the world - with that one life you have - is to give back and help people, without worrying that it has a large enough impact that your involvement is what people remember. There have been a thousand Mother Theresas without publicity gurus making them international icons. Which is not, incidentally, what I think Mother Theresa did want, useful as it was for finding funds and other support.

The first one is great - if you have a safe and warm somewhere to sleep, and enough food to ensure you don't die of starvation. Once these needs are met, then working like you don't need the money has a whole new meaning.

Dancing like no one is watching? Never had a problem with that one. Actually I dance like someone is always watching. It is a performance. I also walk like someone is watching. When I'm feeling lonely or self-conscious on a public street, I strut like I'm on a catwalk. It has the power to make me feel positively self-conscious. My esteem is no higher, but it looks as if it is. Similarly with the singing. If you sing as if you're not sure you should be, then people will also believe you shouldn't be. Sing with confidence and charisma, and even if it is the most appalling racket in the world, the performance will make it more than it could be.

Loving, now that's a difficult one. I have never really been hurt, not really. My first real relationship, he dumped me after 4 weeks and never had a reason. He sat for 2 hours because his friend told him he should talk to me about why and he could not come up with a reason. I got angry and said:
"Four weeks? I've had constipation for longer. And it was a hell of a lot more enjoyable when it was over."
The tears made it less sassy and cool than it could have been.
However, it did hurt. For some reason I am acutely aware of how much it could/will hurt when I have my heart truly broken. I don't understand why someone would want to stay with me, and so I don't want to risk going out with anyone because they will leave me and it will hurt.

This new job, I'm scared I will screw up again and so I'm scared to start it. Because I don't want to screw up again, last time was horrible enough. But I have to start it and I have to move on, however scary it may seem. As a very dear friend, and one of the holiest people I know, said tonight,
"God is your anchor and will be with you wherever you go. He will test you and He will continue you to test you, but He will always be with you."
Ah, the ineffable God, whose nature is so alien as to be cruel, in human terms!
It's true though.

So with logic, theology and the overwhelming desire to earn a decent wage moving me forward, how am I going to find motivation to fall in love? Is God with me on that journey too, in which case I fully expect to be tested in that area too. I'm frightened, because the way things are going at the moment, I may find myself in a mindset that would welcome a relationship. And that is the scariest challenge of all for me: beyond a new job, an empty dance floor, an open mike and even the prospect of death (because then you're not alive to nurse a broken heart), I am afraid to get my heart broken.

shining a light

The lampstand will be placed outside the inner curtain of the Most Holy Place in the Tabernacle. Aaron and his sons will keep the lamps burning in the Lord's presence day and night. This is a permanent law for the people of Israel, and it must be kept by future generations. (Exodus 27:21)

There was a baptism during this morning's service. When the vicar lit the Paschal candle he took a few minutes out to explain its significance: "It reminds us that we should not hide our light, because things that are done in darkness are usually not good." Sadly he didn't explain what he meant by "our light", but his comment about things done in darkness struck a chord. In the hours since, I have tried to think of things done under the cover of darkness that aren't ethically shady, with great difficulty.

Availibilty of light may not be the problem today that it was up until relatively recent centuries. Such breakthroughs as night-vision goggles and heat-sensors mean that less can be hidden, if you know where to look. We can have 24/7 lives because when the sun goes down, the lights come on. Although how beneficial this is to society as a whole is debatable. However, darkness does not have to be visual. Things that are hidden can include actions taken under the cover of excuses, or someone else's blame. They are things said and later denied. They are thoughts unexpressed, but which continue in the mind.

If we take the vicar's words at their most simple and conclude that everything done with the intention of it being hidden is wrong, the verse about not hiding a light under a bushel has an interesting flip-side. The light that is being hidden is not right precisely because it is being hidden. In hiding your light under a bushel, you have rendered that light less than what it should be. Like a candle locked into a bell-jar, the oxygen is consumed and the flame dies.

However, everything done in the light is not necessarily good. In fact, its flaws and shortcomings are more apparent than ever in the glare of publicity. But I don't believe that God wants us to shine our light to the world because it acts as a beacon of good. There is often an evangelical bent to the language of shining light, that we shine so that others will see and ultimately believe. I would argue that a community of people all being terribly and luminescently 'good' is more off-putting than welcoming. How many Christians begin their journey of faith hoping that they will either become good or learn how to be good and get lost along the way because they can't reconcile faith and deeds? Similarly, everything done in the light is not necessarily spoken into a microphone and shared on a daily basis with an audience of hundreds. It is living a faith that tries not to suppress facets of personality, social worry and cruel temptations under a bushel from God himself.

So if we are to shine our light for God to see, the reaction and opinion of the world becomes less significant. I heard a story about a family with huge financial problems, whose car had broken down and they had no means to fix it. Someone in their church donated them a car. It was left outside their house one morning, with no indication of who it was from. This gesture was more admirable because it was done under the cover of darkness. The light shone brighter and more clearly from its source - God's grace - because it wasn't embodied in the middle man.

Therefore whatever is done, whether in the open or in hiding, must have at its heart the knowledge that God wants to be a part of it. "Shining our light" is not about doing things openly, it is about being open with God and from that vantage point, shining with His grace.

Consider for a moment the lamp kept burning outside the Holy of Holies. It was (is) entirely symbolic and has that wonderful ambiguity of religious sacrament which invites analogy, metaphor and any manner of interpretation. It is kept burning, the responsibility is given not just to one man, but to his family and descendents. This light does not just shine, it has to shine. People tend it and keep it burning, and it is kept burning within the sight of God.

It is our responsibility to keep our lights shining. God may be the source of that light, and he may be present as it burns - and invariably flickers - but He is not the one that keeps it burning. We should not hide our light because how else would people know to remind us that it needs tending, how else can we remind ourselves? We should not hide our light because it will suffocate without the space to breathe. We should not hide our light because together we can shine brighter and more beautiful than we can alone.