Archive for March, 2007

Fredalo (or Watergate)

Monday, March 19th, 2007

Returning late from dinner with family friends last night, Babyfather turned the radio on to find out the England cricket scores. Radio 5 live had been taken over with a live phone-in to discuss the ‘disgraceful’ behaviour of vice-captain Freddie Flintoff when he went out on the piss with a group of 5 other members of the England world cup squad. One woman phoned in and said that he clearly has an alcohol problem for which he should be punished, and when questioned on this, said that he had let us all down with his antics.

 Freddie – likes a pint.

Firstly. I can’t be the only person to think that what happened was quite funny, can I?

Secondly, if he does (which I strongly believe not to be the case) have a drink problem then he should receive sympathy and support, and offered treatment, not censure. The comments on the show I heard and on online news sites this morning are horrid – treating alcoholism as a choice and a disgrace rather than a devastating illness which wrecks lives.

Thirdly. Since when did the nation’s sportsmen owe us something? Since when did they become accountable for a nation’s distress when they don’t perform to the best standard? I can assure the bizarrely misguided caller who I heard last night that Flintoff wants England to win the world cup a whole lot more than mere spectators, even fans so dedicated that they spend their lives and their money travelling round the world with the Barmy Army. As far as I am aware, my tax dollar does not fund the England cricket team, and much as I love to watch them and hope that they win, I don’t think it’s my right to have an Ashes/World Cup winning cricket team.

Fourthly. Since when did sportsmen become the pillars of morality which they seem to be expected to be now? A sample of comments on the Evening Standard’s website This is London read “Flintoff is a chav. The moment he appeared with a short sleeved T- shirt & tattoo’s in Australia it was clear he was unfit to lead England at cricket. So it has proved, he should be warned, shape up or ship out, drunken louts not required.” “All we hear about nowadays is sportsmen behaving badly. Before playing for your country was about pride but its all about the ‘celebrity’ side of it now. These sportsmen are role models to youngsters and should act responsibly not like drunken teenagers.”

Nonsense. All they want is to play cricket. They didn’t ask to be role models, and it is not their fault if the tabloid press use non-stories like these to illustrate their own thundering, (and hypocritical) morality. And anyway, what’s wrong with going out and getting drunk? Flintoff is 29 and world famous. Nasser Hussein may point to a drink problem in the team, but after the few months he’s had, wouldn’t anyone want a bit of a bender?

Finally. Cast your minds back to September 2005. We’d just won the ashes (I was there, at the Oval), and the lads had gone on a three day bender which included a grand parade on an open top bus, nights without sleep, interviews with the press which were barely coherent, and a visit to Downing Street where Freddie wasn’t the only one who admitted to being worse for wear. The players were offered tea and water, and after a quiet word the Prime Ministerial fridge was raided, and they were given beer and wine instead. Harmy was pictured with a beer on the children’s climbing frame. All the papers carried pictures of the victory parades, and glowing stories of their drunken antics. Here’s a report at the time, which starts with a snippet from a Vaughan interview

“Then, with a sly smile, he added: “It’s been a long night. We’ve celebrated in true English fashion.” One look at the players, smartly dressed but bleary-eyed after a late, late night, and still glugging down beer or flutes of champagne, told you that much was true.” Not that anyone cared. Two months ago, cricket was languishing in a peloton of sports behind football, now it’s sexy and cool. As Christine Simon from the Isle of Wight put it: “I don’t follow cricket usually, but this makes you feel proud to be British, it’s what the country needs. The atmosphere is marvellous.”

So what do we gather from this? That it’s ok to have a drink problem when the country is celebrating a win with you? That when you’ve won the Ashes you can take a break from the tabloid-imposed role model duties? Or just that the papers will make a story out of anything, and if Fletcher had had a quiet word, past captains hadn’t got on their sanctimonious high horse, and the media had accepted it was just a bit of fun, most of us wouldn’t have cared a toss about it, beyond it being a mildly amusing story?

The same old story

Monday, March 12th, 2007

We spent a lazy Sunday with the Babyfather’s parents, at a lovely Hampshire pub. On the way back, we popped into Blockbusters to pick up a DVD (Little Miss Sunshine) to round off a lovely weekend. The last thing I expected was bad news, but a message left by Busy while I was out of range, and picked up on our return to the house, tore a discordant hole through the evening. A rally in Zimbabwe (masquerading as a prayer meeting) had been disbanded by police. One activist had been shot dead by police. Along with roughly 110 people, the leaders of the opposition party on both sides of the recent split were arrested.

But, most upsettingly for me, Busy and Blonde’s uncle, Mike Davies, chairperson of the Combined Harare Residents’ Association, was arrested with them. Mike is also a close friend of my parents, and I phoned my mum but they had no more news than what we already knew: lawyers were being denied access, and Professor Arthur Mutambara (the leader of the side of the opposition party which split from Morgan Tsvangirai’s last year) was missing. Missing is not a good thing to be in a Zimbabwean prison.

We have trickles of news coming through today, but more annoyingly, floods of rumours too. Many of these masquerade as news, and if you type in Zimbabwe on the Google news site as I write, you will likely still see a story which says that Mike and two others he was arrested with had been transferred to the Goromonzi torture centre. This is a relic of colonial days which, along with the intelligence body the CIO which used it then and now, Mugabe retained in his government, in what would be an amusing Orwellian parody if it wasn’t so bloody awful. High profile detainees there have included Philip Chiyangwa (cousin to Mugabe, and supposed ring-leader of an espionage ring passing Zimbabwe’s secrets to the South African government), and Ray Choto and Mark Chavunduka, journalists at the Zimbabwe Standard arrested in 1999 and tortured by the army. It’s not a good place to be, but we soon hear that Mike isn’t there, but in the relative safety of Highlands police station – in the leafy Northern Suburbs most popular among the remaining middle class white Zimbabwean. Which cells in which police station matter in these circumstances – some are definitely worse than others. As my younger brother – who, in his time as a young idealist political activist in Zimbabwe, spent time in most of them, good and bad, around Harare – will tell you, some of them are notorious for bed bugs, some for lice, some for cockroaches. Catching TB is a huge risk, and the standards of cleanliness vary from one to another, although none of them are clean. And those are just the comfort issues. If they want to torture you, you’re more likely to go to certain stations or camps.

Not knowing for sure is a really hard thing to cope with, and for that more than anything I sympathise with all of Mike’s family, at home and over here. We’ve had emails through from his family back home to say they now know he is definitely at Highlands, and one from my mum to say it looks like a bail hearing is set for tonight. So at least they should get to see him. If that is, in fact, true. I’ve lost count of the times in the past I’ve had phone calls to say my mum, stepdad, or brother have been arrested back home for various supposed transgressions against the regime, but I thought we’d stopped having to worry about this sort of thing. Until contact is made, it doesn’t matter that the sensible 99% of you knows that all will be well, that the police know the world’s eyes are on them and will be too scared to perpetrate severe acts of violence, that the people arrested are savvy and resourceful, you can’t help thinking that they are suffering with the 1% of your brain too worried to be sensible.

In the meantime, Mugabe announced today his intention to stand in the next elections, meaning if he wins (and how can we believe different given recent elections) he will be 90 when the next term of office runs out, and his dictatorship will have lasted 34 years. In the meantime, the man shot dead leaves behind a widow and three children of school age. In the meantime, Morgan Tsvangirai, president of one side of the split MDC has been seen with severe swellings, and with injuries limiting his vision and preventing speech. He has apparently passed out several times. Having ascertained that Mike is at Highlands Police Station, we are left wondering where are those who were supposed to be with him at Goromonzi: Nelson Chamisa, the Member of Parliament for Kuwadzana, and Elton Mangoma the MDC deputy treasurer. Mutambara’s whereabouts are still unknown, and Lovemore Madhuku, National Constitutional Assembly (NCA) Chairman was rushed to hospital with a broken arm and other serious injuries early in the morning. A human rights lawyer trying to see his clients, at one of the police stations to which they were believed to have been taken, was assaulted, and denied access to them.

And last night, in the streets of Highfields, the high density suburb where the rally was due to take place, police continued to clash with ordinary citizens, assaulting members of the public who, in the absence of anything better, armed themselves with stones to fight off an attack by water cannons, tear gas and guns.