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You guys have repeatedly called SYD “boy boy,” even though he has never displayed any tendency that suggests such. Yet, I have not seen a display of “boy boy” politics worse than what Engr. Kale Kawu is currently exhibiting. Sa’adat, it is good to know that you are cosmopolitan....

11,904 views • 16 days ago •via X (Twitter)

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Wayne Rooney claims playing for Man United is MUCH harder than playing for Arsenal or Chelsea. “Man United, and I can't stress this enough, is a different club to other clubs. So when you, the names you just mentioned there, Lewis Hall, Ollie Watkins, for instance, whoever, I don't know them personally. When you're recruiting for Man United, the level of detail to go into that recruitment, which I don't think has been there over the last 10 years, I don't think it's been good enough. Alex Ferguson was a master at doing it. He'd do it himself.” And to be able to play for Man United is so much more difficult than it is to be able to play for a Chelsea or Arsenal, 100%. Liverpool probably is the closest to Man United with the history of the football club. But to play for Man United, to deal with everything else, the football is a small part of it. Whether you like it or not, it is a small part of it. To deal with everything else which goes on at the football club, with the media, the scrutiny on being a Man United player.” “So you have to get that recruitment right. I don't know whether Lewis Hall is good enough. You don't know whether Lewis-Skelly is good enough. You don't know if Ollie Watkins is mentally strong enough to deal with that. So you have to go into players' backgrounds. You have to go into where they're from, what's the upbringing, and is he strong enough to deal with this pressure?” “So there's so much detail which goes into it. That's why I think previously, with players Man United have brought in, some of them have crumbled. Some of them have not been able to deal with that.”

HK

78,266 views • 24 days ago

THIS MUST STOP. I have spent decades in uniform defending a Zimbabwe I believed in. I have watched governments rise and I have watched them rot. I have held my tongue when discretion demanded it. I am holding it no longer. What is being done to my comrade, retired Air Marshal Henry Muchena, is a disgrace that strikes at the very soul of this republic. For days now, State security officers have pursued him and his wife wherever they go. Visual evidence of this surveillance has been released to the media. A retired senior military officer a man who served this nation with honour is being hounded like a common criminal, together with his wife, for the simple act of expressing a political opinion. Let us be clear about what happened. Air Marshal Muchena, together with a group of Retired Generals and former senior civil servants, met with President Emmerson Mnangagwa to express our principled opposition to Constitutional Amendment Bill No. 3 the so-called CAB3. We went in good faith. We spoke as men who have served this State, who have bled for it, who have built the very institutions now being turned against us. The President abruptly ended that meeting with the words: "Whoever wins, let them win." We took those words for what they were a dismissal, not of us as individuals, but of the constitutional order we fought to establish. What we did not anticipate was that the State security machinery we helped create would be deployed to harass and intimidate a retired Air Marshal and his family for daring to disagree. This is not governance. This is political persecution dressed in the uniform of State security. The irony is almost too painful to articulate. As a young boy, Henry Muchena went to war to help liberate this country. He returned home and helped build the military establishment that is now being used to hound him and his wife. He fought to free Zimbabwe, only to find himself being persecuted by the very State he helped create. If a whole General can be hunted like this surveilled, followed, intimidated in his own country what of an ordinary citizen? What of the teacher in Murewa, the vendor in Mbare, the student in Mutare who dares to raise a voice? Disagreeing with a constitutional amendment is not a crime. It is the essence of democratic citizenship. CAB3 seeks to extend presidential terms, abolish direct elections, and dismantle the safeguards our Constitution painstakingly built to prevent exactly the kind of executive overreach we are now witnessing. The Constitution's Section 328 was designed as a poison pill against self-serving amendments a protection the framers knew would one day be tested by men who confuse the State with themselves. The use of State security institutions to silence opposition voices is an abuse of power that no soldier of conscience can watch in silence. We did not liberate this country so that its security apparatus could become a private enforcement unit for political intimidation. We did not build an army, an air force, and an intelligence service so they could be turned on retired comrades and their wives for holding an opinion. To the young officers in our security services today, I say this you swore an oath to the Constitution, not to a man. You serve the Republic of Zimbabwe, not a political faction. When you are ordered to surveil a retired general who fought for your freedom to wear that uniform, you are being asked to betray the very purpose of your service. Think carefully about the orders you follow. History has a long memory, and so do the people of Zimbabwe. To President Mnangagwa, I say this Whoever wins, let them win is not a constitutional principle. It is not a governing philosophy. It is the language of a man who has forgotten that power in a republic is borrowed, not owned. Retired Lieutenant General Winston Sigauke Mapuranga. War Veteran.

Retired Lt General Winston Sigauke Mapuranga

59,463 views • 14 days ago

I've become a missionary with one message. Every time I meet a young person, the same words: have children, get married, build a family. I did not decide on this calling. It overtook me. And it overtook me for a single reason. I had no idea. I genuinely did not understand how much joy, how much meaning, how much sheer beauty pours out of a child until I was holding one of my own and felt the floor of my life drop into something deeper than I knew was there. I grew up white, affluent, secular, comfortable, and insulated. That world does not put babies in front of you. None of my friends were starting families. Out of my whole circle, almost no one has a big one. We were not formed by the presence of children. We were formed by their absence, by the strange quiet of homes built for two careers and no cradle. And a person believes what his world shows him. So we believed. What we believed was a lie. It is a lie with an author, and that the author is the enemy of joy himself. It is the gospel of the world, and its commandment is wait. Wait until you are older. Wait until the career is built and the savings are stacked and the twenties are properly spent. Enjoy your freedom. You are not ready. It does not arrive sounding like temptation. It arrives sounding like wisdom, like prudence, like the responsible thing, and that is exactly why it works. The most effective lies are the ones that wear the face of virtue. And the maddening thing is that it collapses from every angle at once. It is not rooted in biology, because the body is made for this work precisely in the years we are told to postpone it. The flesh keeps a calendar the culture pretends not to see. And it is not rooted in theology either. You will not find this deferral anywhere in the Christian imagination, in any of the fathers, in any of the scriptures. So choose whatever lens you like. Take the cold secular measure or the ancient sacred one. By either light the counsel is rotten. It is bad for the body and bad for the soul and bad for the society downstream of both. This is why I have come to see it as one of the central tragedies of my generation. Every age carries its own wound. The Great Depression was a depression of bread, a scarcity in the world of matter, hunger you could measure. Ours is a depression of a different order. It is a famine of the spirit in the middle of abundance. We have more than any people who ever lived and we are starving in a way our ancestors would not recognize, because the thing we are refusing cannot be bought and cannot be banked. The ones most made to give and receive this love are quietly declining it. They are walking away from the one inheritance that actually compounds, and the cruelest part is that they do not feel the loss as loss. You cannot grieve what you were taught not to want. That is the deepest cut of it. The lie does not only steal the thing. It steals the capacity to know the thing was stolen. A man can spend his whole life on the far side of a door he never knew was a door, mistaking the wall for the edge of the world. Because this beauty is not ordinary beauty. It is not the pleasure of a good meal or a clear morning. It is participation in something that comes down from above, the same generative love that spoke everything out of nothing and called it good. To make a person, to be undone and remade by loving that person more than your own life, is to be drawn for a moment inside the very act that holds the cosmos together. A child does not merely add to your life. A child reorders the soul. It teaches you what you are by asking everything of you, and you discover, kneeling there exhausted at three in the morning, that you had a capacity for self gift you never suspected, a depth in yourself you had no other way to reach. In the Gospel of John, on the last night, Jesus prays, these things I have spoken to you that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. And I have come to understand why family is the road into that fullness, why it is not one path among many but the one most fitted to the shape of the promise. Consider who is praying. Christ does not come to us as a lone figure dropped out of the sky. He comes out of a family older than the world, the eternal communion of Father and Son, the love between them so total and so alive that theologians dared to call it a third person. Before there was anything, there was a family. The deepest fact about reality is not a force or a law or a void. It is a household. It is begetting and being begotten, giving and receiving, a Father who is only a Father because there is a Son. So when Jesus speaks of joy made complete, he is not pointing away from family toward something higher. He is pointing toward the very thing he came from, the life he has known from eternity and came to share. His joy is the joy of belonging utterly to a Father and pouring himself out for those he loves. When you marry, when you bring a child into the world, when you wear yourself down in the small unseen labors of a home, you are not stepping outside that divine life. You are stepping into a small image of it. Your family is a created echo of an uncreated one. The love you give your child rhymes with the love the Father has for the Son. The exhaustion, the tenderness, the way a parent would tear the sky open to protect a sleeping infant, all of it is the heavens pressed faintly into flesh, the eternal household leaving its fingerprint on yours. That is why the joy is not merely added to family but completed in it. We were made in the image of a God who is, at his very root, relation and gift and generation. To found a family is to do the most Godlike thing a creature can do, to participate from below in the begetting that God does from all eternity. Your home becomes a window. Through it, dimly and imperfectly, you glimpse the country you came from and are going to. And now a word for the young people reading this, the ones who do not yet have children. I want to tell you what it is like from where I stand. When I am out somewhere, a restaurant, anywhere, and a large family comes through the door, the noise and the chaos and the small bodies of them, something happens in me on two levels at once. The first is joy. A pure gladness at the sight, the way you feel watching something good and alive. But underneath it, almost in the same instant, a sadness reaches up and takes hold of my heart. Because I know now, at my age, after my own years of waiting, that I will never have that. I will never know the particular fruit of a family that large, the fullness of that table, the weight of all those lives gathered under one roof. The door to it has quietly closed, and I felt it close. And I am telling you plainly, because I love you and have no reason to lie to you: you will feel this too. You will. The day will come when you see what you passed up, and you will recognize the ache for what it is, and it will be too late to answer it. So please, learn from a man who got it wrong. Let my regret be worth something by becoming your wisdom. Do not wait yourself into a grief you cannot undo. Choose now, while the door is open, so that you may step into a joy that does not end.

Kirk Rollins

78,104 views • 3 months ago

Bilbo Baggins: When a Life Is Stretched to Its Limit There is a line spoken by Bilbo Baggins in The Lord of the Rings that has stayed with me: “I’m old, Gandalf. I know I don’t look it, but I’m beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter that has been scraped over too much bread.” At first, this might sound like nothing more than the complaint of someone who has lived too long. But what caught my attention was not that Bilbo says he is old. It is the way he describes that feeling: “I feel thin.” He does not say that he is in pain. He says that he is being stretched. And from there, I began to see this line as an image of a being carrying a burden greater than the scope of an ordinary life. This is my personal interpretation. Tolkien does not directly present a concept of “capacity” or “the elasticity of a life” in the way I am using those ideas here. I am simply taking Bilbo’s own image of “butter and bread” and using it to look more deeply into the feeling he is describing. Too Much Bread and Too Little Butter If I had to imagine that feeling through another image, I would think of a balloon. When it is in its natural state, it has a certain shape. As the pressure increases, it begins to stretch. It has not burst. But it is no longer in its original state. And I think Bilbo is much the same. He has possessed the Ring for sixty years. Yet what is remarkable is that, after all that time, Bilbo is still Bilbo. He still loves the Shire, loves Bag End, cares about Frodo, writes books, smokes, and talks with Gandalf. The Ring has affected him, but it has not completely taken over who he is. That is why I do not think Bilbo’s endurance should simply be understood as: “He was so strong that the Ring could not affect him.” Quite the opposite. The words “I feel thin, sort of stretched...” show that he has already begun to feel that pressure from within. And this is where the image of “butter and bread” becomes especially interesting. The piece of bread does not necessarily have to be understood as the Ring itself. In the way I see it, it is something broader. It is the entire scope of what Bilbo is carrying: the passing years, his unusual existence, the pressure of the Ring, and everything that comes with it. The butter, meanwhile, is Bilbo himself. A finite being with finite capacity. A little butter is enough for a reasonably sized piece of bread. But when it has to be spread across a piece of bread that is too large, it has to become thinner. And that is what I feel in Bilbo. It is not that he suddenly becomes weak. It is that the same being is having to stretch itself to accommodate a burden that has grown beyond the boundaries of an ordinary life. “Stretched” Does Not Mean Destroyed This is the part I find most important. Bilbo is still alive. He is still himself. He still has things he loves and still has the ability to experience the world around him. But something has appeared within him that perhaps was not there before: He feels that he is being stretched too thin. So, being “stretched” does not mean that Bilbo has been destroyed. It shows that he is still enduring, but that his endurance has begun to leave a mark. Being able to endure does not mean being unaffected. A person can endure something for a very long time and still become tired. Someone can continue living almost normally while inwardly feeling that they are being stretched too thin. Bilbo is in precisely that state. And perhaps that is why his next words feel so natural: “I need a holiday, a very long holiday...” I like the way Bilbo says this. He does not try to prove that he can endure more. He simply realizes that he needs to leave. To me, this is a remarkable form of awareness. Bilbo does not wait until he has completely lost himself before recognizing the problem. He realizes that he is being stretched. And from that realization, he wants to step away from the circumstances creating that pressure. Recognizing Your Limit Is Also a Form of Strength If we continue with the image of the balloon, Bilbo has enough elasticity to withstand that pressure for decades. But that elasticity is not infinite. The more it is stretched, the farther it moves from its original state. And what catches my attention most is that Bilbo is still aware enough to recognize this. From this perspective, I see Bilbo’s decision to leave in a different way. He does not leave because he has failed. He leaves because he has recognized his limit. To me, this is much more meaningful than simply saying that Bilbo is “strong” because he was able to possess the Ring for so long. A being can be remarkably resilient and still have limits. And being able to recognize those limits is not weakness. It is awareness. Bilbo does not say: “I can endure more.” He says, in a very different way: “I need a holiday.” Perhaps that simplicity is exactly what makes the line so thought-provoking. He does not need to prove how strong he is. He only needs to be honest about what he is feeling. Why Is the Image of the “Butter” So Sad? That is also why I find Bilbo’s image of the butter so sad. Bilbo is still there. He has not disappeared. He has not been destroyed. But he feels as though he has been spread too thin. The image does not describe a moment of collapse. It describes a process. The burden creates pressure. The pressure forces Bilbo to adapt. That prolonged adaptation makes him feel increasingly stretched. And eventually, he realizes that he cannot continue that way forever. That is what makes the words “I feel thin” so important. “Thin” is not a declaration of weakness. It is a sign that a being has been pulled away from its natural state for too long. And recognizing that opens a choice for Bilbo: To leave. It makes me see Bilbo differently: “Bilbo is not a being that cannot be stretched; he is a being that has endured pressure for a very long time, yet remained aware enough to recognize that his capacity to stretch is not infinite.” And perhaps that is what I like most about this line. Strength is not always about enduring more. Sometimes, strength is knowing that you have endured enough.

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15,237 views • 26 days ago