Uncategorized · Africa · Novel · Ebook · Amazonkindle · Goodreads · Fantasy · Political thriller

Crowns of Amara out now!!!

Crowns of Amara, written by author A. H. Septimius, is an unflinching account of power, love and dynastic rivalry set in the ancient world. The opulent and treacherous world of the Shazarian court is brought elegantly to life by talented young writer A. H. Septimius. An emotive page-turner, gripping political drama, and sweeping fantasy; Crowns of Amara is the sword-and-sorcery tale of the year.

A gripping tale set in a mythological Africa, which masterfully challenges the Eurocentric paradigm in contemporary literature and announces itself as a modern masterpiece. Critics acclaim it as an ‘Eastern’ answer to modern fictional scholarship, for the first time capturing the essence of ancient Africa with a captivating writing style. In the era of Black Lives Matter, ‘oscarssowhite’ and heightened racial tension across the globe Crowns of Amara provides critics with the broad perspective required in such times.

A groundbreaking tale of despotic empires, political chicanery and passionate love set for the first time in a mythological land representing Africa. Not since Lord of the Rings has so comprehensive and convincing a world been created by an author. Beneath political manoeuvring, dynastic rivalry, marauding hordes, divine oracles, and swashbuckling soldiers is a subtle story of love and family in the midst of a land approaching its death throes. Elegantly written, by a writer steeped in historical knowledge, Crowns of Amara is an exceptionally written political thriller, which is the first of its kind.

Crowns of Amara is an emotive tale which attempts to bring to life the grandeur that was ancient Africa. In an age when the splendour of Africa is but a distant memory, this historical fiction intends to remind the world, particularly Africa itself, that the land was once the seat of reason, justice and glory.

A. H. Septimius

art · Conservatives · Fate · Political thriller · politics · Theresa May · Tories · Tyranny · Uncategorized

Political loyalty, personal ambition, and persuasive rhetoric.

A famous leader once said ‘our principle is that the party commands the gun, and the gun must never command the party.’ The party members of Western Europe no longer bear arms, they do, however, have weapons available to them which if wielded correctly are just as lethal. One weapon in particular, the weapon of choice for many, has become the contemporary gun.the-death-of-julius-caesar-vincenzo-camuccini The modern gun can kill instantly, but also has the ability to murder slowly, and in full view of millions as the normal gun could not. As with the old gun any fool can wield it, but the contemporary gun can be used to far greater effect in the hands of the faint-hearted. The new gun, as the old, can be used to pressure government into reform, bring about a political death, conquer lands, topple governments, and bring about revolution. The media, with its boundless reach, endless usage, and deathly potential, has now become the contemporary gun.

Yet, the principle that the weapon must not be wielded in the direction of the party does not apply for the modern media gun. Though it was once did, and held political scandal in relative check, it is a principle which has been forgotten in contemporary society. The loss of such principles may excite the journalist, providing him with material to write exciting stories and sell an increasing number of newspapers.  It may provide those within the political bubble with exciting gossip they can exchange in city bars, or tweet about with eager fingers. It may even provide the people with further evidence of a privileged class so immersed in their own affluent word they are unsuitable for office; a time-honoured remedy for revolution.

Yet, the fact that it erodes, once treasured, codes of conduct for men entrusted with national governance surely takes precedence over that which is gained. When those who occupy the highest offices in the land act with redundant morality, not only do they endanger the prestige of the body they serve, there is also a danger that such behaviour will permeate throughout society. Matters little how uncomfortable it makes us, in an age filled with talk of equality, it is those who occupy positions of prominence who influence the millions who do not; tout court.

Political parties play a paternal role in the life of a politician, giving the junior a home in which to learn, grow, and reach their full potential. So, let us consider the political party a family then, which provides an environment conducive to political maturity, and Parliament as a home in which a safe environment is provided by strong families. matricide When seniority is achieved, under the auspices of the parental party, reward is often offered in the form of greater responsibility within the family. The promoted display their gratitude to the party by ensuring its continued strength, political relevance, and electoral success, not via matricide. Loyalty, to the family which gave you life, is also expected. Not the unquestioning servility which produces tyrannies, but the true loyalty which seeks to enrich the family, and thus the nation, with every action taken.

These obligations, like that for all progeny, do not end when one leaves the family home. Familial bonds bound all members to the family for life. As the strength of the family gives life to the new, so the old are obliged not to kill the family but to ensure its continued life so a new generation may benefit as they once did. As before one’s self comes the party, and it is the family which should command the gun, never the gun commanding the family; particularly not when the loaded gun rests in the hands of the immoral. The tale of Icarus should be headed by those who attempt to soar to heights alone in the defiance of the party. The use of wings, like the gun, if not used under the auspices of the family can bring ruin upon both wielder and household.

Icarus

 

So, onto a gentleman I will address only as the Wallpaper Chancellor, for he is so loathsome to name him would only add lustre to his nefarious star. After being removed from the front bench, he then left the back benches to work as editor of a daily newspaper. First, before the Wallpaper Chancellor’s subsequent behaviour is discussed, one must consider the act of leaving a political party.

There was a time when to be a member of a political party, particularly one of the big two, was considered one of the highest honour’s attainable in life. The men who held rank remained always aware that they occupied offices of great reverence, in nations of great importance, and conducted themselves accordingly. To be Chancellor of the Exchequer, or in the Foreign Office, indeed even Prime Minister was to reach the zenith not a step on the way to a lucrative editorship where one could lambast their family in a fit of infantile spite.

‘You know how to gain a victory,’ the great, African terror of Rome, Hannibal was once told by General Maharbal, ‘but not how to use one’. The ancient general would have marvelled at the resourcefulness of the wily conservative, for surely none can use defeat with such abominable guile as the Wallpaper Chancellor. The people of Great Britain should, in fact, rejoice for had he been able to use victory, as he has defeat, for a longer period of time the British Isles would be in graver danger than she already finds herself in (See 2010-16 and 2016-? For further consequences).

So disenchanted with life, without the family, was Benjamin Disraeli, later Lord Beaconsfield, that he pronounced ‘I am dead; dead, but in the Elysian Fields’. Not a hint of melancholy on the part of our Tory subject however. The Wallpaper Chancellor is so far from deceased, as to make a mockery of the political death. Sits he, ink pot and quill at hand, wicked smile fixed upon his face, hatred abound in his heart, each dip into the pot of war taken with the intention to wield the gun with deathly precision.

saint

To leave the service of your party, and thus your country, to purse commercial or personal interests is not the act of one with unwavering loyalty to the land, and family, which gave you life. Yet, such a trend is indicative of the direction in which society travels. The notion of duty, with it’s all pervading requirements, is now little more than an afterthought. The only duty extant is to personal gain. That may have become acceptable for the many, from those who govern the country it can never be accepted. That those who bear the title Right Honourable are so visibly bereft of honour is a political paradox with ruinous consequences.

Of course, men are not expected to tow the party line to the death-bed. Yet, too often do we see children of the family wielding the gun with the intention of harming the party. Always veiled as friendly fire, with the intention of restoring the family to former glories, seldom is there gunfire without subsequent death. Former family leaders Tony Blair and John Major have both, in recent times, wielded the media gun in an attempt to alter the direction of the family.  Nicky Morgan and Chuka Umuna, both removed from front bench positions, continue to wield the gun with as much moral redundancy as can be expected from such a pair. Clearly, the welfare of the family only matters if one has a prominent position within.

The party, which as a mother, provides sustenance, safety, security, opportunity, and indeed life to junior members is increasingly threatened by its selfish offspring.

virgin MaryMany allow ambition to guide their actions, placing personal aspiration before anything else. If ambitions are achieved by wielding the gun, oh the better. Yet, the damage caused to the party by the descent in propriety is irreparable. Matters little to the ambitious however, who like Nero would play a harp while all around him burns, secure in the knowledge they will rule over the ashes. However, an ashen Rome, like betrayed mother, may well look upon her self-absorbed sons and daughters to ask ‘and will thou leave me thus, that hath loved thee so long?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Africa · politics · Revolution · Tyranny

Tyranny, servility, and Africa.

 

&NCS_modified=20140605145222&MaxW=640&imageVersion=default&AR-140609417The phrase ‘strong man’ is often associated with African tyrants who rule over a cowed populous. 2017 has seen the fall of Yahya Jammeh, President of Gambia for twenty-one years. Facing the threat of military action, he was forced from government after losing an election, accepting the result, then days later deciding the election result did not suit him after all. Jammeh concluded a settlement of $50 million would suffice and duly plundered his country before sailing into affluent exile. Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo, described as a ‘brutal African dictator’, at seventy-five years old continues to rule Equatorial Guinea. Despite 76.8% of the population living in poverty, the president’s son was recently relieved of $71 million worth of assets by the US government in a trail which threatens to further expose corruption. José Eduardo dos Santos, president of Angola, a despot who stays ever close to the shadows, has ruled for thirty-eight years. His reign, despite praise received for economic endeavours, is shrouded with human rights abuses, cronyism, and bribing political figures with state resources.

Omar Hassan Ahmad al-Bashir, seventy-three years old, has ruled war-torn Sudan for twenty-seven years in which the indigenous populous has seen freedom eroded. Pursed by the International Criminal Court on charges of genocide, seemingly a continental pastime, al-Bashir has presided over an ethnic war in Darfur which has seen millions displaced, hundreds of thousands murdered, thousands tortured, and hundreds killed by chemicals weapons. Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, seventy-three-year-old President of Uganda, has for thirty-one years ensured the suppression of political opposition, democratic freedoms, freedom of speech, human rights, and civil liberties. One of many activists to be imprisoned, academic Stella Nyanzi, was jailed earlier this year for referring to the president as ‘empty brained.’ Jacob Zuma, though neither as long a serving president nor indeed a strong man (the ANC have ruled since independence however), deserves a place upon the list of tyrannical ignominy. For during his tenure South Africa has diminished not only in the eyes of the world but in those of its own citizens who reside in a land with rising levels of poverty, inequality, hunger, political disillusionment, and political corruption. Students protest upon the streets, political opposition are thrown from parliament, the president uses state money to build a lavish compound, and all the while on average the heirs to the inheritance of Mandela coeur de lion live on $1.90 a day.

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Little wonder then, that in Zimbabwe Robert Mugabe, at the grand age of ninety-three, embarks upon a ‘speaking tour’ of the country as he seeks re-election to the presidency.

For in Africa, like nowhere else, the old and tyrannical are given a stage upon which to perform. And perform they do, more often than not, with ghastly incompetence, extempore genocide, and unabashed cronyism.

Like no other Mugabe seems to embody all that is wrong with contemporary Africa. The tyrant celebrates his birthday as if a Caesar with national celebrations, opulent surroundings, servile ministers offering repulsive genuflection, and harmonious children shanghaied into singing in festivities which reportedly cost $2 million.

mugabe

Yet, if Mugabe is a Caesar and Grace a Livia, where exactly is the grandeur that was Rome? Tis certainly not to be found in Zimbabwe! It’s as if the tyrant forgets he rules not a great power, with a sprawling empire, as a mighty Caesar, but governs a small poverty-stricken nation, with a poverty count ratio of 72%[1], as a petty despot. The recent flood that swept through Zimbabwe saw 246 people killed, thousands displaced, and hundreds ‘marooned’ according to the government. Mugabe’s government was forced to plead for $100 from charitable bodies and governments to ease the crisis, a humbling request for a tyrant who prides himself on being the scourge of intervening western (white) governments. Yet, this is a man who takes no pride in presiding over a country which has well feed, well educated, and well protected (black) citizens. For this is not a matter of colour, nor race, tyranny and poor governance transcend such boundaries; thus, it is the men themselves which must be scrutinized.

Nor is it just men. The tyrant’s wife, Grace Mugabe, has shown herself to be a woman of little grace indeed, and an unworthy heir to noble Sally. Referred to a ‘mother’ by Zanu-PF members, her place at the centre of power is such that she is being touted to next adorn the inconsequential crown. Yet, seldom are wives bound to tyrants without acquiring a whiff of despotism; and ‘mother’s’ tyrannical scent has begun to acquire the stench of permanency. After presiding over such scandalous decrease in living standards, she asks ‘why should I not become president?’ Clearly this is a woman who, like her despotic husband, is losing her mental faculties. A government minister was hauled before the courts of law facing the charge of a ‘criminal insult’, for daring to refer to Grace as a ‘fool.’ Renowned for her lavish shopping sprees, reportedly spending $75,000 in a Parisian spree which lasted only hours. This, lest we forget, is a politician of a country with 4.1 million ‘food-insecure’ people in the lean season,[2] 63% of citizens living beneath the poverty line,[3] 27% of children with stunted growth,[4] and with numerous western global organisations providing support for starving citizens. An estimated 1.4 million people living with aids, including an estimated 77,000 children.[5]

mug

 

The mantra seems to be, the people starve, ‘let them eat cake.’ The last tyrant’s wife associated with such sentiments faced a grizzly fate. One wonders if the people have the same in store for Grace and Robert as they did for Marie and Louis XVI.

 

Augustine once damningly remarked that there had been, after all, slaves in ancient Rome which lived in better conditions than the toiling working classes of industrial Britain. I write with equal apathy that there were slaves in ancient Rome, subjects in Victorian Britain, and collaborators in colonial Rhodesia who lived in better conditions than the working poor of free Zimbabwe. What makes the reigns of African strong-men so repulsive is that the memory of nefarious colonial rule still lingers in the memory, and the dawn of independence was imbued with the hope of freedom. How wrong the people were!

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White tyrants have been exchanged for black despots, European cruelty for African perfidy, plundering colonial governments for corrupt national assemblies, villainous white masters for psychotic black henchmen, the stinging masters whip for the enforcers deadly gun, and nefarious European conferences for the posturing African Union. The people remain in bondage; hunger and pestilence still stalk the land, government continues to embezzle, and hired men still murder the innocent.

Yet, Africa is free.

Everything has changed, and nothing has altered. Oh, what a fate.

 

[1] (The World Bank , 2017)

[2] (World Food Program , 2017)

[3] (World Food Program , 2017)

[4] (World Food Program , 2017)

[5] (UN Aids , 2017)

Uncategorized · Political thriller · politics · Conservatives · Tories · Theresa May · Fate · art · Titian

Mayism, Toryism, and the Moirae.

The late Robert Asprey once wrote that ‘many persons go to the grave with unrecognised abilities, having either failed to find opportunity or recognise it when it came.’ His words raise an interesting point about those who both find and recognise opportunity, yet are still unable to capitalise upon it; are they beyond redemption?

Titian, Venus with a Mirror, detail, 1555,

I use this article not to analyse the fall of Mrs May, for already those who are better placed zealously engage in such documentation, but to comment upon the nature of life and how that which seems almost inevitable can in a moment become impossible. For what is spun by Clotho, allotted by Lachesis, and confirmed by Atropos, can never be undone; matters little what the polls say.

That which begun with a twenty percent lead in the polls ended with a reduction of a parliamentary majority. Thus, the well-used knives of Tory backbench butchers and the equally savage daggers of the right-wing media have long been unsheathed and the wielders bay for the blood of another august leader.

Yet, If Theresa had resisted the winds of change and emerged with a majority which matched what the early polls were predicting would we not be talking about the age of May? Of a unified Tory party bound to a ‘bloody difficult’ feminine leader? Of the daringly egalitarian nature Mayism? Of the realignment of the British right? Of the seizure of the working classes by an adroit strategist? Of the resurrection of the indomitable Iron Lady? And the restitution of that kind of Tory rule which acquired such an air of permanency under Baroness Thatcher? Instead her majority was wiped away, alongside it her authority and indeed her destiny.

morai8

So, is she to be condemned for dithering, wavering, and finally imploding when the crown hovered above her brow? Or was her campaign simply a colossally personal prism of human insecurity, obstinacy, and limitations? Which, surely, can be forgiven as but human characteristics we all share.How many of us dwelt happily upon the certainty of our impending success, only to be given a harsh reminder by the Fates of our fallibility? Who has not made premature plans with the proceeds of a job they had yet been offered? Only to be disappointed with a rejection email. Which one among us has not planned for a lifetime with a partner, often staking our futures upon them, whose name now causes revolted memories to re-emerge?  Has any, save the extremely fortunate and idly young, not been moved on from a job they wished to keep? Who doesn’t have regrets about those missed opportunities, late applications, unspoken words, unmade calls, or uninspired performances which cost us that which we desired?

Surely then, Mrs May is not alone.

Lest we forget, amidst the furore which engulfs this country when a great figure threatens to topple. Once, Britain looked as if she would be shaped by the vicarish county girl, who loathed the bourgeois schemers of the Notting Hill set (rightly so), cared for the millions of working class families (questionably so), and governed with a calming authority (briefly so). Yet, in the euphoria of left-wing mania it is clear to all that well lain plans, are but opportunities, and as Asprey surmises it is only those who seize opportune moments which we remember as great. Yet, it is right to remember also that though those who do not grasp the moment of reckoning are often as talented as those who go on to achieve acclaim. There are graveyards, occupied by men and women, and streets full of those walking towards them, with undoubted ability who failed to achieve the accolades their natural talent warranted.

Titian, Tarquin And Lucretia,If this is fate, the fate of us all, why then the intense pleasure taken in viewing pain in others we ourselves have (often daily) felt? For surely, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos allow none to escape their silken labyrinth and it is a fate which awaits us all in some form. ‘Tis a question not to be answered, rather reflected upon, by a society which so euphorically revel in the fall of Mrs May. Yet, not by loathsome Tory schemers who jostle eagerly for the throne, daggers in hand, smiles upon faces, treacherous intent fixed in hearts. Faint splatters of blood still remain in Westminster’s hallowed walls from the Caesarean death given to Baroness Thatcher, Mrs May should prepare herself with haste for a similar execution. For there is little doubt that the gentle words written here will do little to soften hard Tory hearts. The only questions which remains is who shall wield the deathly sword? And wear the crown hereafter?

Succession aside, this writer must own to sympathy with one who like himself, and us all, was unable to fulfil a dream which was clearly dear to her.