Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music

Overheard in the playground at the school where I work: “why do they call it Good Friday?” “Because on that Friday people give you chocolate Easter eggs, which is a good thing”.

Children’s imagination, uh? It makes it hard to believe that we live in a Christian country after all.

Until now I have actively avoided the subject of Christianity as raised by the British Prime Minister David Cameron recently, because religion is one of those topics about which some people can get quite worked up. But as a committed atheist who has begun to call himself “humanist” more than “atheist” in the last few years, I found it hard to resist the temptation.

I agree in principle with Mr Cameron that Britain is a Christian country, but mainly from a historical and cultural perspective. Christianity shaped most of this nation’s institutions, from the monarchy to the laws that still govern society today. Like in other European countries where Christianity was the dominant religion (I’m thinking of Germany, for instance), it also had an impact on the arts, both visual and performing. However, away from this scenario, I am more in agreement with the former archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Williams, who said the UK had “entered a post-Christian era”. All you have to do is look at how active participation in the church has declined. Belief, as a concept, has widened up its meaning and it is no longer the province of the deeply pious but also of those who wear our humanism on our sleeves.


Has Christianity in the UK been read its last rites?

More clarification is needed on the term “humanism”. It might be self-explanatory – after all we are all humans – but in today’s world this philosophy has acquired a new dimension. Humanism’s main aim is to promote the well-being of all human beings. We believe (and in this we have claimed back the word “believe” from the realm of religion) that the pursuit of individual rights and freedoms for the benefit of the collective is one of the most important moral goals in society. Our main identity marker is human above all. This allows us to treat everyone else equally regardless of their gender, sexual orientation, skin colour, (dis)ability or... religious affiliation.

In my case, humanism also allows me to doubt. Atheism is too rigid. When I have called myself atheist in the past I realise that I have done it in relation to a God I don’t believe in and to whom I don’t have to refer. When it comes to humanism I can leave the God question aside and approach the subject more openly. Part of this is based on my upbringing in Cuba.

It has often been said that socialist states (usually called “communist” in the west, but let us not go there today) were secular in nature and against religion at its core. That statement is half-right. Cuba, the former Soviet Union and the rest of the socialist bloc did their utmost to stop the Church’s influence on the population, whether it was the Russian Orthodox Church in the old USSR or the Catholic Church in Cuba. But in doing so, socialist states created their own religion with its own doctrines and liturgy. That is why many people born and raised in socialist and ex-socialist nations cannot claim total and absolute atheism. There was always belief, but instead of God and his Son, we worshipped our maximum leaders. Ensconced away in the background there was also the lurking presence of religion, as in old-fashioned religion. Only late in life did I come to understand how much my late grandma’s strong Catholic faith and Afro-Cuban beliefs had affected me. Do I believe in a supreme being? No, but I also remember Santa Bárbara when it rains, guv (don’t worry, that’s a Cuban reference).

This brings me back to the UK. Some of the people to whom I have spoken about religion call themselves atheists or agnostic. But this is, to me, more like a western variation of atheism, one in which they (atheists and agnostics) position themselves against the notion of religion without leaving any space for doubt and questioning. The irony is that that is how science works, with doubt questioning at the forefront. To me this doubt and questioning means that I can look at the human brain in a different way, as an organ capable of triggering off mental processes which might at times defy logic.

There are some side effects – unintended or not – of bringing attention to the UK as a Christian country. One of them is to establish an “other”. The more you say that Great Britain is a Christian nation and use this as an identity marker the more you start to look at other religions and their practitioners as aliens, or “others”. And we know what happens to aliens. They get blasted by Ripley.

One last reflection. It is ironic that it was the Prime Minister who said that the UK should be “more confident about our status as a Christian country” when it has been his government the one that has behaved the most un-Christian-like. Through a series of punitive measures the coalition has created a time-bomb that could detonate any minute. We saw a snippet in the riots that swept through England in the summer of 2011 and then again in October 2012 when thousands of people marched in protest of the savage budget cuts which Cameron and co. had introduced. Early Christians sold their possessions and distributed them to all men and women according to their need. Cameron's government has made poor people poorer whilst bowing to the super-rich. Not very Christian-like, methinks.

To sum up, between the Prime Minister’s faux Christianity and the child in the playground commenting on the meaning behind Good Friday, I know which version I would adopt as my definition of Great Britain as a Christian country, even if the child were to be accused of blasphemy. After all, we all love chocolate, don’t we?



© 2014

Photo by the blog author

Next Post: “Urban Diary”, to be published on Wednesday 14^th May at 11:59pm (GMT)

Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music... Ad Infinitum

I am writing this post a day after Christmas just before one of the usual Boxing Day football fixtures. The turkey has been eaten and its remains put away in the fridge. What to do with them? There are only so many sandwiches I can make using my new pickle (a Christmas present, with the rather self-explanatory name the Green Fire, whose ingredients include Green Kenyan chillies and mint). Besides, I’m a bone man; I leave the white meat to my wife and kids. I usually go for thighs and legs. That’s why there’s a gigantic carcass looking at me from inside the fridge. Waiting to be, either disposed of, or experimented upon.

I choose the latter. Every Christmas I find myself in the same dilemma. What to do with the leftovers? I belong to the “never chuck away food” brigade. But what happens when the turkey you’ve bought is so big that it could very well pin you down to the ground and execute a half-nelson on you?

Red kidney beans soup. I just found half a packet stashed away which I’d completely forgotten about. My plan is to slice some onions, mash up some garlic, heat them up on a large pan, add paprika, salt, pepper, a couple of bay leaves, coriander, cumin, mixed herbs and oregano. Let this combo sizzle on the pan before you drop a tablespoonful of red wine vinegar in and let the smell hit you. Add some tomato puree and after a couple of minutes mix in the beans. I usually stir them and let them get acquainted with the spices. Match-making, if you like, at Christmas time. In the meantime I boil some water to get my vegetable stock ready. Once the stock is in, I ramp up the fire until the water is boiling. I let it boil nicely for a couple of minutes and then I bring the fire down to the minimum, number 1 in our case. I keep the pan going for three hours, stirring the beans every now and then and tasting them to see if they are soft enough.

For vegetarians what I tend to do is replace the turkey or any other kind of meat (in Cuba I would be using pork, beef and lamb if available) for sweet potatoes, carrots, celery and potatoes. Next time I am planning to add corn to the mix.

My personal twist for those who like their soups thick and rich is simple: the oven. Half an hour before the three hours are up, I switch the oven on to 200°. Still steaming hot, I place the pan inside the oven and leave it there for thirty or forty minutes. The liquid thickens and the result is a filling dish that will keep your hunger away on these dark winter nights.

The music to go with this recipe ought to be equally rich. That’s why my first offering tonight is a band I first heard recently as a result of an article in Songlines magazine. Lady Maisary is a new folk trio with two albums to their names and powerful vocals as the clip below shows. They are also expert musicians with a craftsmanship that belies their ages. Enjoy.



My second musical offering tonight is a bluesy melody by a band that was more often than not labelled prog-rock. Yet, those of us who are acquainted with Jethro Tull’s back catalogue know that Beggar’s Farm, the track below, was the Tull’s way of saying that this was the music they wanted to make in 1968 when their debut album was released. And the name of that record? This Was. Amazing.



Rokia Traoré is one of those singers who bring passion to any performance. That’s the same approach I have to cooking (and eating!). That’s why she is the third artist I would like to present to you tonight. Zen’s groove stays with the listener long after it finishes. Magnifico!



Lenacay is the offspring of two members of the now defunct hip hop flamenco band, Ojos de Brujo. The energy and experimentation are still there and that’s why I am closing this post with them tonight. If this musical number had a smell it would be the same smell that will be wafting out of my kitchen in a little while. Happy eating!




Next Post: “Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music”, to be published on Sunday 19^th January at 10am (GMT)

Road Songs (Allegro)

Open the front of a car and show me its insides and I will be legging it before you can say 'valve'. There is nothing more daunting and scary than that labyrinth of cables, pistons and plugs. Just before my third attempt to pass my driving test my instructor and I had a little run-through the various car parts I would be questioned on by my examiner. I am sorry to disappoint you my dear fellow bloggers, readers and posters, but I failed really badly.

Luckily I managed to scrape through on this subject in the actual test and was flunked twice in a row on my poor driving rather than on knowing when I needed to check the car oil.

And yet, this whole maze of tiny, medium and gigantic parts fascinates me no end. It is amazing to me how the combination of all these different components work together to move your car forwards or backwards, accelerate or slow down.

Sometimes music works in the same way. Certain combinations defy logic and go beyond our understanding.

Take my first example. On the one hand hand you have not only Nigeria's social conscience, but Africa's singing warrior. A thorn on the side of the corrupt government that ruled that West African nation for many years, Fela Kuti became a musical icon to many people around the world. His songs had difficult and complex arrangements and were heavy on the use of trombones, saxophones and trumpets. On the other hand you have 'l'enfant terrible' of prog-rock, Mr Ian Anderson, he of English band Jethro Tull, whose complicated and poetic lyrics delighted those of us who came to them via other groups from the same era: Yes, Emerson, Lake & Palmer and Genesis. The result is an intrinsic, comprehensive and mind-blowing collaboration between these two musicians which resembles the inner world of a car. Masterful.

My second offer is a mélange of blues, country and rock, and just like pistons and valves working together inside a vehicle, these various rhythms have a nice, funky beat going on that makes want to get up on my feet and dance with total abandon. I discovered The Audreys via Radio Paradise, the online radio station that should be a blueprint for wanna-be radio stations everywhere. Groovy.

Number three song this weeks brings what is normally called a chanteuse. She is a cross between a busker (which she has done after eloping to Europe following the success of ther debut album, strange way to celebrate, ain't it?), a jazz singer and troubadour. Madeleine Peyroux is not your traditional singer and her voice smacks of a throaty, powerful engine revving up nicely as all the different components conjure up their magic to make the car move. Smoky.

Finally this song is living proof that music is cyclical. Salsa is rooted mainly in son, a hybrid between African rhythms and their Spanish counterparts. And as the following track shows Orchestra Baobab took it back where it came from and transformed it into an African song with Latin undertones. Compelling.

And this is all for this week. In the meantime I am still trying to work out what to do when going on a long journey. What's the requirement my tyres must meet before I set off again?

Copyright 2008