Tuesday 31 May 2022
May 31st, June 1st 1972: New Delhi
Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN 978-0993210716
NOTE: Some of the pics that were not taken by me may be some time after 1972
There was a Spanish guy there, in Mr Jains hostel. He spoke English. He told Al about an 'Ashram' called Prem Nagar, in the foothills in the town of Haridwar on the Ganges, the Holy River, where they accommodated people free of charge. Then he told Al about the symptoms of Infectious Hepatitis, a yellowing of the whites of the eyes and the finger nails, how urine would look dark yellow to red, and stools would look pale. Al thought it was strange to be told that.
Then Al went to the courtyard and found Miriam sat drinking fizzy orange. Not having slept a lot the previous night, it wasn't long before Al said goodnight and was asleep.
The following morning, June 1st, when Al awoke, Miriam had already left but she had left her bags so she would be back! Al had a light breakfast from the food and mangos he was still carrying and headed off to find the American Express office to check for money and then the Post Office to check for mail. He was pleased to find ten pounds waiting from Australian Paul and at the Post Office a letter from Paul and his wife.
With that he went back to his dorm and received bad news.
Miriam had made contact with her friends and they were planning to leave Delhi to drive to Nepal the next day. She invited Al to join them.
Al told Miriam that he had so little money and wanted to wait for more, but when he had more he would maybe travel to Kathmandu and leave a message for her at the Poste Restante, hopefully meet up again.
Connaught Circus and the immediate area was quite built-up, with roads off the roundabout in many directions. There was an incredible amount of traffic. It was a busy commercial area and the streets had large buildings, offices, shops and street stalls, some selling strange-looking concoctions of coloured pastes spread onto leaves and sprinkled with Betel nuts. Apparently the vile-looking leaves had to be chewed and spat out, and gave an exhilarating effect. Al could see the stains red around the mouths of some of the men and he could see where it had been spat out on the pavements.
The number of three-wheeler rickshaws was incredible, and any without passengers always seeking work, slowing as they drove past, offering lifts. There were also larger rickshaws carrying eight or more passengers and many over-crowded buses. Just off the big roundabout was the Indian Coffee House, in Mohan Singh Place. Nearby was an indoor market where Al found a many Sikhs selling their wares, one with cheap vegetable triangular pasties called samosas. Al visited that indoor market many times for samosas or dahl and chapatti and fruit-flavoured lassi drink lunches. That was where Al sold his camera, a week or so later.
The walk between Connaught and the hostel was of just about ten minutes but passed an incredibly smelly public toilet to be avoided at all costs. Al learned that water was only available through mains taps for part of the day, so the toilet was seldom cleaned.
This was India and the contrast between rich and poor was striking.
Many
of the men wore white Indian Pyjamas, some just rags, whilst others
wore western suit and tie. There were many westerners and
Japanese-looking people, many in jeans and shirts, others India-style
clothes and others dressed more richly.
Photos found on-line.
Monday 30 May 2022
The Scarecrow Dies
The Scarecrow Dies
by Alun Buffry
A storm outside,
Where fear abides,
The thunder claps,
The lightning zaps
The scarecrows in the fields.
Inside is calm,
Peaceful and warm,
It feels of love,
Soft Light above,
The scarecrows finally yield.
Throughout ones life,
We all feel strife,
Darkness and confusion,
Amidst the world’s illusion
With which we daily deal.
But please don’t cry,
One day we’ll die,
Life is for here and now,
The scarecrows will all bow,
As life is but a wheel.
The scarecrows are the sinners.
The lovers are the winners.
As hatred outside dies,
And peace inside will fly,
And gratitude we’ll feel.
Norwich, 2021.
May 30 1972: The Journey to New Delhi with Miriam
Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN 978-0993210716
The following day Al was up early and went for breakfast and bought some bread and fruit and water for the journey. He was now really hoping that there would be some money waiting for him at American Express in Delhi.
Al felt that he had been a burden on Keith, and Keith had not been too happy about it. He didn't want to end up being a burden on Miriam. He had thoughts of picking up money and going to Nepal with her.
Mid-afternoon, Al had said cheerio to Keith as Keith headed off towards to railway station. He met up with Miriam near the dining hall and soon Sher appeared with an older man, his father, the mango dealer. They called for a three wheeler motor rickshaw with seats for three and waved goodbye to Sher.
Father took Al and Miriam across town, where they tasted yellow mangoes, then across town again to taste green ones, and then back across town to try red ones. Each time he gave them a few in a bag, so now they had about ten of them. But they were all delicious.
Then he took them to the outskirts of town to what looked like a truckers' stop. He took them to a small building and introduced them to all old man with a long white beard.
It was some sort of religious groups. There were many old-looking books and pamphlets, including one in English. Al read it – it was some sort of Ashram, a shelter for practices of Yoga and read that the Universe was made by an all-powerful God called ParaBrahman. He realised that the old man was some sort of priest, teacher or Guru – he was very pleasant, constantly smiling – he had a symbol painted on his forehead.
The old teacher chap told Al and Miriam that he had arranged for them to go to Delhi but the truck was not leaving until midnight. He invited them to dinner and soon another delicious vegetarian meal with Nan bread arrived, followed by the Lassi drink flavoured with mangoes!
It was late into the evening before the truck was ready to leave, and Al did not know or care how long it would take to reach Delhi. He had a bag of food, lots of mangos, enough water for a couple of days, and Miriam to keep him company.
When they reached the truck they discovered it was laden high with large rope-tied bundles – they were shown to climb up and found enough space for them to comfortably sit or lay down, in front of the bundles. They set off into the night.
Of course, there was not a lot to see at night but they did pass some lit areas, maybe small towns or villages. They chatted on, shared some joints using hash that Miriam had, and felt good. When it got too cold, they huddled together under Al's sleeping bag.
But suddenly after a few hours the truck halted abruptly and some of the bundles shifted so there was a danger of them toppling down on top of the duo. The truck carried on and every now and then the bundles shifted again. Their space was restricted and Al began to worry for their safety.
He began to try to bang on the roof of the cab to try to get their driver's attention but to no avail. So he thought to try to climb up so that he could dangle something down in front of the cab window so the driver would stop. He used a dress that Miriam took out of her bag.
After a while the truck stopped. The driver got out and Al motioned to him that the bundles were about to topple down. Climbing up, the driver tried pushing up the bundles with Al's help, but they hardly moved. They tried repositioning the ropes. In the end they had made little progress so the driver jumped down and straight away they were on the move again.
Al was still worried about the bundles but the advantage was that Miriam huddled up closer.
So on they travelled until daylight and on into the day, which got hot very quickly.
They made two stops and the driver bought them Chai (sweet milky spicy tea). Each time they tried tightening the ropes.
At the third stop, Miriam bought a hot meal for Al and for the driver. It was now late afternoon.
As they were about to climb up to their space on the back of the truck, the driver handed Al a small black lump of what Al now knew to be opium, motioning for him to eat it. Al broke it into two small pieces and he and Miriam ate one each.
It was a few hours later after the opium had induced a sort of slowed-down dreamy state, that, now dark again, the truck was passing through lit-up areas. They were on the outskirts of Delhi and soon the truck pulled up at a large roundabout that Al later learned was called Connaught Circus. They climbed down and the driver motioned across the busy road and made a gesture meaning sleep.
So Al and Miriam tried to cross the road – the effects of the opium did not help. The traffic seemed to be speeding past, trucks, coaches, three-wheeler motorised rickshaws, cars and even donkey-pulled carts. It was taking ages. The traffic seemed non-stop. There was a great honking of horns.
Well, they did eventually get across the road and headed off in the direction that the truck driver had pointed, soon to find a street with several guest houses on. They selected the second one that they were passing. It had dormitories, some for boys and some for girls, no mixed rooms. The dorms were set around a small courtyard with tables and chairs and a water pump. Inside the dorm that Al was shown to there were six beds, and it looked like three were taken, so he chose one saying hello to his fellow travellers and sat down. One of the other lads started speaking to Al in English: he was German and told Al that he was on his way back to Germany after travelling around India for six months dressed like a Sadhu, in robes with just a begging bowl and chillum. Al knew that Sadhu's were supposed to relinquish all their possessions and their homes and families, worshipped a god called Shiva and smoked lots of chillums.
There was a Spanish guy there. He spoke English. He told Al about an 'Ashram' called Prem Nagar, in the foothills in the town of Haridwar on the Ganges, the Holy River, where they accommodated people free of charge. Then he told Al about the symptoms of Infectious Hepatitis, a yellowing of the whites of the eyes and the finger nails, how urine would look dark yellow to red, and stools would look pale. Al thought it was strange to be told that.
Then Al went to the courtyard and found Miriam sat drinking fizzy orange. Not having slept a lot the previous night, it wasn't long before Al said goodnight and was asleep.
Sunday 29 May 2022
May 29 1972: Amritsar and the Golden Temple: Miriam and Mangos
Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN 978-0993210716
The following morning, Al decided to visit the Golden Temple. It was already very hot, approaching a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Keith was not feeling so well so decided to stay in the room and sleep.
As Al approached one of the Temple entrances, he spotted Miriam. They greeted each other with a quick and discreet hug and walked together towards the entrance. It was free to go inside.
They had to take their sandals off and wash their feet in a small pool of water.. Then they had to cover their heads – scarves were provided for free: there had been street hawkers outside trying to sell scarves but Al did not buy – at that stage he did not know that he had to wear a head covering.
Al took me off his head and put me into his shoulder bag. By this time I had built up such a level of telepathic contact with Al that I was still able to see what he saw:
Inside the complex, Al saw an incredible marble and golden building set out in the middle of an artificial lake joined by a walkway to the surrounding wide marble pavement and beyond that, white buildings. There were individual and small groups of Sikhs walking around the complex.
The upper part of this ornate rectangular marble structure was covered in gold.
As soon as Al's feet touched the marble pavement he regretted it. Now about 100 degrees, the marble was almost unbearably hot. There was little shade, little relief. He headed for the water in the lake, sat on the edge and put his feet into the cooling water – Miriam did the same.
Within minutes they were approached by a Sikh wearing a bright orange djellabah’s over white trousers and an orange turban.
“Mister and Madam, I am sorry, but please take feet out of holy water.”
Al and Miriam immediately removed their feet from the water, the Sikh said thank you and walked off.
Al said “I thought people bathed in this, I thought it was supposed to purify, like the Ganges.”
“Maybe we should just jump in and immerse ourselves,” said Miriam.
“Could do,” laughed Al, “It's so bloody hot my feet are burning. Oops I forgot, not supposed to swear either!”
The two of them stayed for a couple of hours, just chatting quietly and feeling the good feeling. They went back to their separate rooms.
That evening, Al decided to go to find the room where the food was provided, Keith saying that he would join him later.
The large dining room was packed with hundreds of people. Miriam was in the massive hall and sat with a bearded young man. As Al approached, Miriam motioned to him to go and sit with them. She had kept two places for him and Keith. Everyone was sitting on cushions on the floor with cloths laid out in front. Some people were already eating.
Al said hello. He learned that the man, called Sher, was in fact a Sikh who was living as a student in Germany but his home was in India, in Amritsar. Sher told Al that although here he wore a turban over his long hair, when in Germany he took off the turban and let his hair lose like Al's, saying that he seemed to get better treatment there as a hippy rather than a Sikh.
It wasn't long before food arrived. That evening they ate dahl, rice, chapatti and yoghurt with sweet Indian sweets and cool water. All lovely vegetarian food.
Miriam said “I've got us a lift to Delhi if you want to come.”
“Yes, I'm into that,” said Al.
“Sher's father is a mango merchant and tomorrow he will take us to taste his mangoes and then take us to a man that will get us a lift on a truck through the night.”
“That's far out,” said Al. “I wonder how long that will take, it's about two hundred and fifty miles, I think. Keith's going to try to sneak on a train without paying but I don't fancy that. I was wondering about hitching a lift.”
Miriam told Al that after she had left Herat, she went direct to Kabul and stayed there two weeks. She must have been there for a least some of the days that Al and Keith had been. She said she had been to Chicken Street and Sigis and had even played her guitar and sang there. But she had stayed on the outskirts. Then she had met up with some Canadian friends who had been driving overland from Europe in a Land Rover. Miriam had travelled with them across the Khyber Pass and down to Lahore. They were staying in a city close to Lahore, and when the border was open and they completed the formalities and repairs to their vehicle, they would drive through to Delhi and then up to Kathmandu in Nepal. Miriam was to meet them in Delhi and go with them to Nepal.
Al and Miriam left Sher having agreed that his father would meet them in that same place the next afternoon; they strolled around the streets for an hour or so, chatting. Al told Miriam the story of getting the boiled eggs in Kabul and she laughed for a long time.
Saturday 28 May 2022
Leading Clowns
LEADING CLOWNS
by Alun Buffry, June 2020
You may well think our leaders clowns,
For sure they let the people down.
It matters not where you come from,
If your name's Boris, Jacob or Dom.
Unless you're in the Upper Class,
Workers will stay upon their ass.
It matters more where they went to school.
Eaton and Oxford were so cool.
They had a grand old party time,
That's why they pull the Party line.
They laugh and tell us what to do,
Won't listen to the likes of You.
We vote and think our votes will count,
Lead us to what we think we want,
We praise them for the little they give,
They hide away the way they live.
And when they want to fight a war,
They ask all all to give some more.
They sail their yachts and ride their horses,
They play with their balls on their golf courses.
They drink their champers and fine wines,
They eat their gourmet meals so fine,
Put chemicals in our food and water,
Send our soldiers out for slaughter.
Yet deep inside we’re all the same,
It matters not your family name,
For when we reach the end of life,
It’s them that will suffer the grief and strife.
For then they’ll see themselves were bad,
For then it’s them in loneliness that will feel sad,
It’s them that did us all that bad,
For them that last breath will be so sad.
For one thing to them I’d like to teach,
That in this life we each need peace.
It’s not in glory, wealth or fame.
It’s only in our Soul’s true name.
https://www.buffry.org.uk/poetry.htm
Jubilee For the Super-rich
I am very much against this country spending hundreds of millions of pounds celebrating a date - that is the Jubliee costs - whilst many tens of thousands (if not more) of our people are struggling with the cost of living, food and energy bills - The Queen herself remains one of the wealthiest women in the world. If people want to celebrate, fine, but who actually asked us sif it is ok for us to pay so much out of the inevitable taxes.
Friday 27 May 2022
May 28 1972: Arriving in Amritsar with Keith, Miriam and Hellmut
Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN 978-0993210716
It was May 28 1972.
At the temple, they were met by a friendly Sikh in a turban, who showed them to the shared room, “Boys and girls separate,” he said. “You must smoke only outside the rooms. You are very welcome here and please come to big dining room for food, it is given by us to travellers. Maybe tomorrow if you want, go to see Temple?”
Inside the room were four beds. It did not look like any were being used.
Keith read from his guide book:
“Amritsar is a city in north-western part in India. It is the spiritual centre for the Sikh religion and the administrative headquarters of the Amritsar district in the state of Punjab.
“It is home to the Harmandir Sahib commonly known as the Golden Temple, the spiritual and cultural centre for the Sikh religion.
“The main commercial activities include tourism, carpets and fabrics, farm produce, handicrafts, service trades, and light engineering. The city is known for its rich cuisine and culture, and for the tragic incident of Jallianwala Bagh massacre in 1919 under British Rule.
“Amritsar is one of the largest cities of the Punjab state in India.
“The city lies on the main Grand Trunk Road from Delhi to Amritsar connecting to Lahore in Pakistan.
“For transportation within Amritsar city, rickshaws, motorised rickshaws, taxis and buses are easily available. It is better to hire cycle rickshaw in Amritsar than hiring taxi or motor rickshaw as cycle-rickshaw pullers are comparatively sober and honest.
“The Gurdwara is surrounded by a large lake or holy tank, known as the Sarovar, which consists of Amrit, holy water or immortal nectar and is fed by the Ravi River.
“Inside the Gurdwara complex there are many shrines to past Sikh Gurus, saints and martyrs. “There are three holy trees, each signifying a historical event or Sikh saint. Inside the Gurdwara there are many memorial plaques that commemorate past Sikh historical events, saints, martyrs and includes commemorative inscriptions of all the Sikh soldiers who died fighting in the World Wars.
“In keeping with the rule observed at all Sikh Gurdwaras worldwide, the Harmandir Sahib is open to all persons regardless of their religion, colour, creed, or sex. The only restrictions on the Harmandir Sahib's visitors concern their behaviour when entering and while visiting:
“Maintaining the purity of the sacred space and of one's body while in it.
“Upon entering the premises, removing one's shoes (leaving them off for the duration of one's visit) and washing one's feet in the small pool of water provided;
“Not drinking alcohol, eating meat, or smoking cigarettes or other drugs while in the shrine.
“Dressing appropriately: Wearing a head covering is a sign of respect. The Gurdwara provides head scarves for visitors who have not brought a suitable covering;
“Not wearing shoes.
“The Harimandir Sahib runs one of the largest free kitchens in the world, serving 100,000 people on average daily. The meal consists of flat bread called chapatti and lentil soup called Dahl."
“I reckon we'll check that out tomorrow, man,” said Keith. “We have to work out ways to get to New Delhi. I's nearly three hundred miles – I am thinking about jumping a train.”
“Yes, what does it say about Sikhism?” said Al.
Keith read aloud again:
“Sikhs is a monotheistic,panentheistic religion founded during the fifteenth century in the Punjab region of the Indian subcontinent by Guru Nanak and developed through the teachings of ten successive Sikh Gurus, the eleventh and last Guru being the holy scripture Guru Granth Sahib: a collection of the Sikh Gurus' writings as well as poets of other religions, that was first compiled by the fifth Sikh Guru. It is the fifth-largest organized religion in the world, with approximately thirty million adherents. Punjab, India, is the only state in the world with a majority Sikh population.
“Adherents of Sikhism are known as Sikhs which means students or disciples.
“The central teaching in Sikhism is the belief in the concept of the oneness of God. Sikhism considers spiritual life and secular life to be intertwined. Guru Nanak, the first Sikh Guru established the system of the Langar or communal kitchen) in order to demonstrate the need to share and have equality between all people. Sikhs also believe that all religious traditions are equally valid and capable of enlightening their followers. In addition to sharing with others Guru Nanak inspired people to earn an honest living without exploitation and also the need for remembrance of the divine name. Guru Nanak described living an active, creative, and practical life of truthfulness, fidelity, self-control and purity as being higher than a purely contemplative life. Guru Hargobind, the sixth Sikh Guru, established the political/temporal and spiritual realms to be mutually coexistent.
“There is one primary source of scripture for the Sikhs: the Guru Granth Sahib. The Guru Granth Sahib may be referred to as the The First Volume—and the two terms are often used synonymously.
“Observant Sikhs adhere to long-standing practices and traditions to strengthen and express their faith. The daily recitation from memory of specific passages from the Guru Granth Sahib, especially the Japu, literally chant, hymns is recommended immediately after rising and bathing. Family customs include both reading passages from the scripture and attending the gurdwara, meaning the doorway to God; sometimes transliterated as gurudwara. There are many gurdwaras prominently constructed and maintained across India, as well as in almost every nation where Sikhs reside. Gurdwaras are open to all, regardless of religion, background, caste, or race.
“Meditation is unfruitful without service and action. Sikhs are taught that selfless service and charitable work enables the devotee to kill the ego. Service in Sikhism takes three forms: "Tan"—physical service; Man—mental service such as studying to help others; and Dhan—material service. Guru Nanak stressed that a Sikh should balance work, worship, and charity, and should defend the rights of all human beings. They are encouraged to have an optimistic, resilient, view of life. Sikh teachings also stress the concept of sharing through the distribution of free food at Sikh gurdwaras giving charitable donations, and working for the good of the community and others.
“Sikhism regards Justice and Restorative Justice and divine justice as trumping any subjective codes of moral order. It is one of the duties of the Khalsa to fight oppression of any kind.
“Guru Nanak's teachings are founded not on a final destination of heaven or hell but on a spiritual union with the Akal which results in salvation or Jivanmukta, the liberation of a devotee in the current life before the liberation in the afterlife.
"Guru Gobind Singh makes it clear that human birth is obtained with great fortune, therefore one needs to be able to make the most of this life.
"In Sikhism, karma is modified by the concept of God's grace. Guru Nanak states The body takes birth because of karma, but salvation is attained through grace. To get closer to God: Sikhs avoid the evils of Maya, keep the everlasting truth in mind, practice Shabad Kirtan, meditate on Naam, and serve humanity. Sikhs believe that being in the company of the Satsang or Sadh Sangat is one of the key ways to achieve liberation from the cycles of reincarnation.”
Thursday 26 May 2022
Taken From Time For Cannabis The Prison Years 1991 to 1995 ISBN 978-0993210761: INTRODUCTION
Taken From Time For Cannabis The Prison Years 1991 to 1995 ISBN 978-0993210761
INTRODUCTION
This book is not meant to be humorous, although a certain amount of humour is unavoidable, partly because of the nonsense and inconsistencies that I came up against during my time served, and partly because sometimes it hurts so much that one has to either laugh or cry. I fully intend to criticise the prison and the court systems, but not, I hope, unnecessarily, and, I also hope, positively.
This is not meant as a horror story, a fiction, or an analytical work, although I will admit in advance to colouring and flavouring events, changing names, and interspersing actual events with thoughts of the occasion. This is to increase the readability of what might otherwise be a very 'flat' book, considering the flatness of the system.
I consider myself very fortunate, even in this experience, as I have previously travelled to many different countries, and witnessed the different languages and customs therein, which I feel has enabled me to adopt a more detached and somewhat enlightened attitude to the strangeness which I constantly experienced.
Many inmates are either the well learned ‘old lags’ who have been in and out of the system for years, or else are younger and more naive. I was also fortunate to have already received an education, thus being able to further it using the institution's facilities and classes, able to write and read easily, unlike many of my comrades, and thus help the time pass easily and productively.
I was also fortunate enough, for want of a better phrase although it may sound as selfish as it is, to have first arrived at a prison along with some acquaintances, and to recognise a few faces already there who I could turn to for help with day to day life.
Once again I sympathise greatly with the young, scared and lonely convict or detainee.
Although it is only natural that I feel some anger and resentment against the way I have sometimes been treated, in particular by the courts, this emotion has never overwhelmed me.
I see so many things wrong with the world that Mankind has created, not least the way in which selfish and greedy individuals have polluted our beautiful planet and continue to do so, perhaps to the point of no return and the devastation of possibly all life. I fail to see how the Governments on this world, who often seem to me to be evil, can allow the future to develop in this way, ruining the chances of happiness and health for their descendants.
In the sixties I grew up under the constant threat of nuclear devastation imposed by individuals so many miles away, whose identities would never be known to most of us. But this being bad enough, at least there was a chance of survival.
As the sixties have become the nineties there are so many problems in this world, any one of which will destroy us as individuals or as a race, including Aids, acid rain, radiation poisoning, the 'Greenhouse Effect', the ozone depletion, the pollution of the air, sea and land, space junk, chemical additives in our food and water, and on and on and on. Add to this unemployment and the violence shown on TV, in video’s and in the press, to the point of saturation and ‘normality’, and it is less surprising what is happening on our streets.
It has been said that by the age of twelve the average American child has witnessed several thousand murders on the screen, and doubtless a similar figure is true for British children. In the East they say life is cheap, and death is all around, and certainly it seems that in many countries where overpopulation has become such an everyday burden, there are constantly civil wars or violent freedom fighters whom the various governments call terrorists. But do the governments and industrial bosses realise the terror which they daily cause us in our lives, through their greed? Is it surprising there is so much violence and crime in the country? Advertising is a strange practice to apply to people who are unable to afford the goods or services advertised, and although increasing sales amongst the select few, causes nothing but unsatisfied desire amongst everyone else.
Consider this story. It concerns a village deep in the heart of the Egyptian desert near Libya. I forget the name, but that is unimportant.
This small oasis settlement had been there for hundreds if not thousands of years, the locals content to grow what they could, and keep their livestock. In years past they may even have profited from accommodating the occasional traveller. They were certainly unlikely to attract any tourists, unless some big archaeological discovery was ever made. Being short of power, having no electricity and little means of producing it, they were unlikely to attract much big industry. The locals remained poor people, but never starved. They were basically content, having what they needed and most of what they wanted. This is the point: they had most of what they wanted, or rather most of what they knew about that they could want. Of course they may have wanted a better doctor, a panacea, a magic carpet, but these were merely dreams. One day however, one of the locals had to traverse the desert to Cairo, for personal reasons. Suddenly, instead of being surrounded by friends and sands, he found himself in a huge city, some fifteen million souls, tall buildings, thousands of cars, buses, trucks, bicycles, people in all style of dress, restaurants, businesses and even more foreigners than the population of his home village.
What did he see? Advertising.
Somehow he managed to get hold of a television, battery operated, and having been shown how to work it, he took it home with him. Fortunately, or maybe not so, they could pick up signals in the village and they were able to watch films, news and documentaries about a country and a world they never new existed. The children and young men were, of course, able to watch too. And what did they see? Advertising Young mini-skirted girls drinking cola, cowboys with their special cigarettes, the blond bombshell in the tight jeans, the fast car and the gorgeous lady who went with it, watches, stereos, holidays, household appliances and magical gadgets, and so on.
So, what happened to their simple needs and desires? They multiplied out of all proportion. They wanted all these things too, but of course they had no money so they could only dream on in frustration. Until one day three or four young men themselves set off to Cairo, where the streets were paved with gold and one could make enough money to buy some of the well and ‘successfully’ advertised wares. Unfortunately when they got there they found not thousands but millions of people in the same position, unemployment ridiculously high, the city impersonal and apparently uncaring, and their chances of even getting enough food for tomorrow rapidly dwindling. But not everybody was poor. Some people had cars, wore expensive watches and clothes, and drank cola, and presumably had many more modern goods to make their lives apparently easier and happier. So what did our young and impressionable brothers do? They stole. They broke into a house and took what they could. Unfortunately these men were nothing of the professional burglar, knew nothing of finger prints and forensics, and were soon caught. The result? Four more inmates in the hell hole of Cairo prison. Once again the advertising agents had done their job well, convincing the people that they needed the junk they had to sell!
Of course the situation in Britain is not as extreme, but nevertheless it is surely obvious that if one successfully creates an intense desire for something, in the minds of often uneducated and impressionable people, in a time of unemployment when their cash is hard come by, at the same time blasting them with crime on the TV, something somewhere is going to give. A percentage of them, being unable to earn an honest buck, will hit the streets, either taking what they want through robbery and theft, or dealing in drugs or stolen property, prostitution, or any of the many other ways of getting a ‘few readies’.
This is why the prisons are so full. Add to that the people who drink and drive, maybe take drugs steal to get money for their next hit to lift them out of their boredom and fears, everybody taxed beyond what they can afford, and the prison population begins to overflow. Having stated that as my beliefs as to why so much crime occurs, I now have to say that this was only a very minor cause of my conviction.
I will not in this book, attempt to discuss my personal level of guilt or innocence, but I would like to stress the view I had of my offences at the time. The charges against me were concerned with cannabis, a so-called drug. I had consumed it for a number of years, and met untold people in nearly every country I ever visited, smoked with young and old, people new to it and those who had smoked very heavily for very many years, for social, recreational and also ‘spiritual’ purposes,
I did not and do not understand why it remains illegal! In its pure natural forms it certainly seems to have done me no harm, or anyone I have met. No matter how much one consumes there is no danger for a reasonably balanced person. It has been said that the fatal dose is two kilos, dropped on the head from a great height! There is no heavy withdrawal, no side effects. The real problems are that it is often cut with possibly damaging impurities, ranging from sawdust to barbiturates, solvents to boot polish and even cow shit, by the less than scrupulous illegal suppliers; that it is normally mixed with the legal and deadly poisonous tobacco; and that it remains illegal and therefore in the control of the underworld. The so-called controlled drugs are controlled not by the Government, who should concern themselves with the lack of purity of consumables, but by crooks.
Added to this are the many acclaimed medical benefits of cannabis to sufferers of ailments such as multiple sclerosis, glaucoma, asthma and arthritis, its pain-killing properties, and relaxing properties, and the uses of the plant or hemp, for the non-polluting manufacture of paper, linen, rope, all the old maps, Bibles, sails, ropes etc were made from hemp. Its use as a food supply (seeds crushed to make gruel are highly nutritious) for humans and animals, and its use as a clean, renewable (two crops a year) and highly efficacious fuel, cannabis is probably the most versatile God-given substance on earth! Of course, it makes some people apparently lazier, but not all, and many of these become more creative even if only privately.
There is a vast amount of music and art forms produced under the effect of cannabis. About 5% of the population admit to having used it regularly, and in private a great many barristers and other professional men. In private a great many individuals agree that it should be legalised, but are, like the majority of people living under Nazi control who witnessed the inhumane treatment of the Jews, too afraid for their own careers, and freedom, to speak out. The anti-legalisation lobby seems to be left, nowadays, with the completely unfounded statement that it ‘leads to other drugs’. True, 95% of hard drug users confess, when asked in a weighted question, that their first illegal substance was cannabis. But only 5% at most, of cannabis users ever take hard drugs. It is rather like using the argument that 99% of convicted armed robbers admit to owning water pistols as children, to bring about the prohibition of possession and sale of water pistols!
Meanwhile, whilst those in authority and positions of respect usually remain silent, and the various campaigns for legalisation are left in the hands of often unemployed and outcast folk who have little or no experience of organisation, thousands of users and dealers remain in prisons, and millions risk their health by consuming street ‘crap’. Let’s face it, even with the risk of incarceration, people still use it and will continue to use it, and continue to line the pockets of crooks, so it is really time that some government opened its own eyes, legalised it, took control of quality, gained revenue through taxation, and saved the time of police, courts and prisons.
So, having said that, why was it suddenly made illegal in the 1920's? Some political reasons? Strange how the banning of cannabis and hemp suddenly created a vacuum in the supply of ropes and fabrics, shortly before the industrial giants put nylon on the market, and the huge petrochemical companies marketed their synthetics and polluting alternatives. I sometimes wonder if there was a connection.
I am not trying to excuse breaking the law. The law is the law, right or wrong, and the country cannot survive without laws. Judge Pickles, himself an advocate for the legalisation of all drugs, was correct when he said that people should not be allowed to pick and choose which laws to keep and which laws to break, that sort of freedom would be disastrous. Neither should such offenders be given leniency. In prisons there are many who would legalise all sorts of unpleasant things which they have been incarcerated for.
Yet it is true, in the case of the suffragettes and also the homosexuals, who sought to change the law by breaking it, that it can eventually lead to publicity and success. I would, however, stress that very many people with similar experiences to me, never had any intention of hurting anyone, and mostly have never broken any other laws. Their preference for cannabis over alcohol and sedatives, has, nonetheless, resulted in their doors being kicked in, humiliating strip and personal searches, hours of solitude in filthy police cells and extended interviews often interspersed with secret threats and insults, confiscation of assets, collapse of businesses or careers, long periods in prison equivalent to sentences for armed robbery and often greater than for rape offences, and general alienation from their families, friends and society in general.
Why? All because they wanted to get high! Cannabis is used in prisons probably more than on the outside. The staff, I have been told more than once by members of that elite group, tend to turn a blind eye: it keeps the inmates quiet.
So, back to this book, like I say it is not the place to discuss guilt or innocence.
Although I can hardly avoid ‘having a dig at the system’ and those who perpetuate it, that is not my purpose. Rather I want to present the prisons through my eyes, the eyes of an educated and travelled, non-criminally minded, and, as those who know me will agree, harmless forty year old male from Wales.
I felt that by helping to organise contacts and introductions between suppliers and customers, I was helping people by enabling them to get a clean supply, by keeping them away from alcohol, hard drugs, and the dreadful tranquillisers and sedatives, benefited people.
Educated as a scientist at university, I was taught to examine the facts for myself, and not to blindly accept everything I was told.
This is all I ask of you the reader, to consider the evidence with an open mind; those who accept orders and laws without question are the true fascists.
The book is divided into four sections: the first will cover the nightmare of remand in custody. The three prisons which I entered were category B, a maximum security, and a low security C category. I was on wings separated from the so-called vulnerable prisoners, as we call them, ‘nonces’, guilty of horrendous crimes which should not ever be even imagined.
Amongst the prisoners with whom I lived the hatred of the nonces was universal.
As for the others it seems that the longer the sentences the more respect the inmates had for each other. A man two or more years into a ten or twenty year sentence has an entirely different attitude towards his surroundings than a short-timers who is only ‘passing through’.
The main problems for the long-timers are the poor living conditions, being isolated from family and friends, and institutionalisation. Frustration and helplessness, anger at the treatment of self and others, an authoritative hypocrisy, are what causes violence amongst these men. This book is an attempt to portray what I saw and felt at the time.
Wednesday 25 May 2022
1989: Going to Miami to see Prem Rawat
Taken From The Autobiography of a Head ISBN 978-1838440107
In 1989, I managed to get a good deal on flight and hotel in Miami, for a three day festival with my teachers, Maharaji.
I went with another premie, Beryl and a few days later her partner Mark joined us. We stayed in the Thunderbird hotel. They would not take cash and it was lucky that I had a credit card.
The Thunderbird was said to have the best Chinese restaurant in Miami. The food was very food. They served it at much lower prices in the hotel restaurants for guests only.
Most of the restaurants in Miami prided themselves in serving so much food that diners were able to take some home in a ‘doggy bag.
One day in the hotel lobby, Beryl and I were standing waiting for Mark and Beryl started coughing. I heard a voice, that I recognised, saying “That’s a nasty cough.”
I turned around and indeed who I though it was. It was the actor and stand-up comedian George Burns. Younger people may not know who he was. He was famous for standing on stage, smoking a cigar, well into his nineties. He also played God in films such as ‘Oh God’, a popular 1977 film. He had been to the Chinese restaurant and, sure enough, was holding a doggy bag.
George Burns RIP
We saw brown pelicans flying past from our hotel balcony.
Miami was so humid that when I went outside or got out of the air-conditioned bus, my spectacles steamed up as if I was walking into a bathroom.
Mark
with myself and Beryl Jackson RIP
The Thuderbird Hotel
One day I decided to get something to eat for dinner outside the hotel. There was a diner across the road, so I went there. I had turkey drumstick and chips. There was masses and almost as soon as I started to eat, I just lost my appetite. I apologised to the waitress. She said she would wrap in up so I could take it away. I said that was no good as I was I a hotel. She brought a bag a bread rolls, saying I had to walk out with something or they’d get a bad name.
I crossed the road and went to the Thunderbird. Outside there were police cars. As I entered the foyer, somebody said “There he is!”
I thought ‘whatever have I done?’
The cop asked where I had been. I told him. He said that reception staff saw me leave the hotel but I did not get into a taxi, I just walked. When they went outside to look for me, I had disappeared. He said that it was not safe to walk about in the evening; people could shoot me from a car! I should have taken a taxi. It was a dual carriageway and two miles either way before one could turn round, so going to that restaurant by taxi would have been a round trip of eight miles!
The event with Maharaji was wonderful. It was so uplifting. I felt safe in Miami, walked around part of the city, went to the beach for a fireworks display. All the girls serving in cafes and bars were beautiful but clearly over obsessed by their hair. Everyone seemed to me to be very friendly.
I went to the science museum. There I saw the outfits worn by astronauts. It was remarkably thin, consisting of a few layers of plastic, silver foil and hemp!
There was an exhibition called ‘Walk on Mars’. For a price one could enter a room, walk up some steps, cross and platform and down some other steps. Set into the platform was a small glass case containing, supposedly, a small piece of a meteorite believed to have originated on Mars. I was given a certificate to say that I had walked on Mars!
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