Q: When you met Fela what was he like?
A: Ohhhhhhh! Fela was something else when I first met him. Outwardly, he looked like a nice, clean boy. A perfect square. But inside he was a ruffian, man. And I knew it. Many of my friends, they always tell me: “That crazy boy! What are you doing with that boy? Why don’t you leave him alone?” But this guy, I’ve finished prospecting him a long time ago. This guy, you can feel him the way he does things. You knew that this guy was not a young guy. I told many guys, “This boy, he’s a ruffian. He doesn’t even know how to
talk to people. You just wait. We’ll see what this guy can do.” And it was true. Even my family didn’t like Fela and didn’t want me associating with him.
Q: So how did you both hook up in London?
A: Well, after finishing my secondary school in Ijebu- Ode in 1956, I began working as a clerk in the High Court of Lagos. I loved law. I wanted to be a lawyer, man. It was with that in mind that I made my parents send me to England in 1958, where one of my sisters was living. I was then twenty-three years old. Can you imagine that, man? Going to England? At that time, that was like going to Heaven for Nigerians! Hoo- hooooooooo! Fela had left to England about two months ahead of me. So we had agreed beforehand on the hook-up. He’d gone to study music. Actually, I wrote Fela to tell him I was coming, but he didn’t know where I was going to be in England. I went to London. At the beginning I enrolled myself at one of the Inns of Court, Gray’s Inn. I was going to read law. ... And, of course, Fela came round to my house one day.
Q: You mean he just dropped by?
A: Yeh ... just like that! I was sitting down in my house in ... what was this place? It’s a very popular place in
Shepherds Bush, you know. But I’ve forgotten the name of that street. Anyway, my sister took me there. She had been in England for some time. So she took me down to this place to go and stay there. And then one night I was sitting down there, talking to this West Indian guy who was my roommate. And I hear somebody knocking. “Who is that?” And in comes Fela. I say to myself, “This boy is looking for me again? I’m in trouble!” [Laughter.] And from that night I took my few bags and everything and left with him. I went to his place. He was staying in Brisley Gardens, in White City. I didn’t come back to my house again.
We started sharing the room together. I was paying half. He was paying half. He was going to Trinity College of Music and I was going to North-Western Polytechnic at that time.
Q: What were you studying?
A: I told you I wanted to do law at the beginning, but I couldn’t get in. I didn’t make it. You see, I’m not so bright. [Laughter.] When me and Fela started living together we used to go out in town a lot, you know. One day I told him: “Man, we can form a band. We can form a band on our own, man. Why not?” Fela said, “Yeah, we can form a band. Let’s go and do something.” And we went into a shop. We started
hiring – you know, hire-purchase – some of the instruments. I got drums. Fela got trumpet, I think. He had enough bread to buy it. Besides, that was his instrument then and not the saxophone like now.
Q: Who was giving him bread at that time?
A: His mama, man! But I didn’t have bread to buy shit, man. If I had told the folks at home that I was going to buy drums, they’d say, “What???? That’s not what we sent him there for!”
Q: So who was supporting you?
A: My family. He-he-he-hey! Even at the beginning they were doing their ass over when I started doing music, man. They were fucking mad. “We’re not going to send you any more money,” my parents wrote me. They stopped my allowance. Man, I couldn’t understand how people could hate such a beautiful thing as music, and look down on it. I said, “Never mind. I love to play music. Finish.” So me and Fela formed this group called the Koola Lobitos. We started out playing for Nigerian students who were studying in England. You know, all the dances in the halls and that sort of stuff.
Q: Why that name: Koola Lobitos?
A: I don’t know why that name. Fela gave it that name. I wanted something different. Anyway, he had his way
and we formed Koola Lobitos with some West Indian guys. I played guitar and Fela played trumpet. We used to play highlife, Fela’s compositions, and some other numbers like “I am the O-by-a-wo-wh-y”, and things like that. It caught on. So we were playing with this group till about ‘61, or ‘62.
Q: In London?
A: Yeah, in London. It came to be our thing that at the weekend we get money to spend in our pockets. We used to have gigs, in places where we’d play for students on Fridays, Saturdays. We were always having money with us, Fela and myself. Wole Buckner, who’s now a high-ranking officer in the Nigerian Navy, was there with us. He was playing piano with the group. But he wasn’t deeply in it. You know what I mean? It was the two of us, Fela and myself, who actually started Koola Lobitos.
Q: How many were you?
A: We were about a nine-, ten-piece band.
Q: You used to play for mainly West Indian and African audiences?
A: Yeah, but we started going more and more into all the jazz clubs, like. ... The Marquee, the JCC, Birdland and ... what’s the name of that club in Gower Street? A very, very popular jazz club? Anyway, we played there.
Q: What type of person was Fela then?
A: He was very quiet, although he was very speedy, you know. He was speeding all the time. He was a cool guy, nice to work with. And he loved to play, man!
Q: Did he drink a lot?
A: Fela? Drink? He used to drink cider at that time; that’s all he’d drink. [Laughter.] He never got drunk off anything but cider, man. [Roaring laughter.] Whenever we went to parties he would start dancing. He would fill up on cider first. Then he would start challenging the others to dance. Girls, you know ... Nigerian girls, they loved us because we were straight. We didn’t fool with anybody. We weren’t the kind of family type who wanted to get married and settle down. We were just doing our own thing. Chasing women? [Laughter.] Fela was very green at that time. Well, not green in the sense that he didn’t know. ... Well, you know what I mean? He was afraid to fuck, man. [Roaring laughter.]
Q: He didn’t smoke?
A: Not even cigarettes. Let alone grass, even for fucking. He was afraid to fuck! We had to take his prick by hand, hold it and put it in the cunt for him. I swear! Well, for example, I tell Fela, “Fuck this woman. This girl will leave if you don’t fuck her.” Fela would answer, “Ohhhhh, she go get pregnant-o!” And I’d have to persuade him. Guys like Richard Buckner – that’s Wole Buckner’s senior brother – didn’t know how to go after women. So they would hang around us. When we’d get women they’d come around and take the girls away from us. All that was Fela’s fault. But we didn’t care because we were very popular.
Q: That’s incredible.
A: Man, it’s me, J.K. telling you! ... We used to go around town. We were almost every night in the West End. Oh, man, when you would see me in London then. ... For two years, you could never see me without tie or three-piece suit. I became like a gigolo. Gold rings everywhere. You know. ... But, shit, Fela was a square, man! A nice guy, really beautiful guy. But as square as they come!
Q: Your sister must have been happy to know you were in good company, uh?
A: Shit, no! They were all against it. While I was in
England my sisters, my parents kept up their shit: “What are you doing with this guy? Are you crazy? What are you doing with Fela?” I said, “Just leave me alone. I know he’s my friend. He’s my close friend.”
Q: Then, your family’s opposition had a contrary effect?
A: Definitely so! How could I drop Fela just because my family didn’t dig him? I dug him, man. We used to sleep together, eat together, sleep on the same bed, you know, things like that. I could never abandon a feeling like that, a friend like that. You know what I mean? If it’s a male friend, like a school friend, say, then we meet at school or we meet outside. That’s a different thing. But we were living together, you know. Telling each other secrets and everything, you know. Right from the time when we were away from our country. So it brought that close love between us because we were not in Nigeria.
Skeleton Homeostasis Enzyme Muscle Excretion Discrimination Boycott Advantage Patient Nervous
Overcome Destiny Freedom Restaurant Protest Participate Nonviolent Excretory-System Circulation
Please come now, I think I'm falling
I'm holding on to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder (thunder)
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it, let me say, let me say
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
Maybe six feet ain't so far down
I'm looking down now that it's over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere
Somewhere in His grace
I cried out, "Heaven, save me" (save me)
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it, let me say, let me say
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
Maybe six feet ain't so far down
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
Maybe six feet ain't so far down
I'm so far down
Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there's something left for me
So please come stay with me
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me
For you and me, for you and me
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking (thinking)
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
Maybe six feet ain't so far down
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
Maybe six feet ain't so far down
Please come now, I think I'm falling
I'm holding on to all I think is safe
Criteria of Ethics:Ethics refers to the principle that guides behaviour and decision making based on what is considered morally right or wrong. The criteria for ethics typically include the following aspects:
Autonomy: Respect for individuals' rights to make their own decisions.
Beneficence: The obligation to do good and act in ways that benefits others, promoting well being and reducing harm.
Fairness in treating people equally and distributing opportunity without spreading discrimination and bias.
Moral courage is the ability to stand up for what is right, even in the face of adversity or personal risk.
Focuses on the character and virtues of the individuals making the decision, such as honesty, kindness, courage etc.
Sustainability: Ensuring that actions and decisions do not compromise the ability of future generations to meet their needs.
There are so many criteria of ethics. This criteria helps guide ethical decision making in various contexts and social policies.
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Daenerys and her army of Unsullied reach Yunkai, to find the city guarded by a huge force including two sellsword companies. She knows that open battle will cost her many lives, even though her commanders feel she will win easily. Daenerys tells her men to invite the two sellsword Captains, as well as the Yunkish leader. The first to arrive are the three Captains of the Stormcrows, who spurn her offer to join her, although she notices Daario Naharis smile at her as they leave. The Captain of the Second Sons also laughs at her offer, but does accept a wagonload of wine to bring to his men. The master slaver brings Daenerys chests full of gold hoping she will leave Yunkai alone, but she sends him off with his gold and a warning that she will attack in three days time.
After he leaves, Daenerys tells her commanders that they will attack that night, since none of Yunkai’s defenders will be expecting it. Soon after, Daario returns with the heads of the other two Stormcrow Captains, and swears the service of his company. Jorah warns her not to trust the Tyroshi, yet she commands the battle to commence as planned. During the fight, she asks Arstan to tell her more of her brother Rhaegar. Whitebeard explains that the Prince was always melancholy, and a sense of doom hung over him. "He was born in grief, and that shadow hung over him all his days." Daenerys knows that it was the shadow of Summerhall that Arstan was referring to. Word arrives that her army won the battle easily during the night, with the help of the Stormcrows, and all the Second Sons too drunk to fight. Daenerys commands her men to spare any who threw down their swords, and promised to free any slaves. Once again, Daenerys’ army swells to even greater size. Daenerys rides on her white mare past all the newly freed people who call out to her as "Mother!"
Jon is with the Magnar’s men nearing a village alongside a lake. He realizes that he must somehow escape and reach Castle Black before the raiders do, in order to warn them. The Thenns captured an old man camped in one of the ruined houses, and Styr commands Jon to kill the man. Jon balks, but Ygritte slits the man’s throat with her dagger. As Styr begins to command his men in the Old Tongue, a crash of thunder sounds, and suddenly a direwolf is attacking the Thenns. Jon mistakes the wolf for Ghost or Grey Wind for a moment, wondering if Robb returned to the North, but he never realizes that it is Summer. The direwolf slaughters several wildlings, and in the confusion, Jon mounts the old man’s horse and begins to flee. He is hit with an arrow in the calf, believing the shot was fired by Ygritte. Jon gets away, forcing the horse to gallop for hours without rest, heading for Castle Black.
Bran and the others reach a small, deserted village on a lake. There is a holdfast tower on an island in the middle of the lake, and Bran tells them that Good Queen Alysanne once stayed there. Brandon's Gift is a strip of land south of the Wall to a distance of 25 leagues which was once given to the Night's Watch to support them. The New Gift, given to the Watch by Queen Alysanne and her husband King Jaehaerys I, doubled that distance. Bran tells them there is a secret walkway just beneath the lake’s surface that will allow them to reach the tower.
They stay in the tower that night during a terrible thunderstorm, and Bran tells them that all the gates through the Wall were sealed when each of the castles had to be abandoned, leaving only three gates open at each of the manned castles. When Hodor starts to scream in fear of the thunder, Bran reaches out to him the way he does to Summer, and calms the big man. Jojen spots men on the shore in the village, and Bran enters Summer to investigate.
Zindagi ka safar bohot ajeeb hota hai; kabhi hansi hoti hai, toh kabhi aansu. Har mod par ek naya imtihaan hota hai—aur insaan har dafa kuch seekhta hai. Kuch log samajhte hain ke zindagi asaan hai, lekin asal mein har qadam pe soch samajh kar chalna padta hai. Aksar daikhne mein aata hai ke jo log sabr aur himmat se kaam lete hain, wahi kamyaabi hasil karte hain. Is liye zaroori hai ke hum kabhi hausla na haaren, kyun ke har raat ke baad subah zaroor aati hai, chahe andhera kitna bhi gehra kyun na ho!
Aaj kal zindagi bohat masroof ho gayi hai. Har kisi ke paas apne kaamon ka itna bojh hai ke dost aur ghar walon ke liye waqt nikalna mushkil ho gaya hai. Phir bhi, jab kabhi thoda waqt milta hai, to main apne ghar walon ke sath zarur baithta hoon. Hum sab mil kar chai peete hain aur halat-e-haziraat par guftagu karte hain. Yeh chhote chhote lamhe hi zindagi ki asli khushi hote hain.
Aaj ka din bohat khoobsurat tha. Subha subha, main apne dost ke sath park gaya tha. Wahan humne thodi der tak walk ki aur phir coffee peene chale gaye. Mausam bhi bohat acha tha, halka sa thanda aur thoda sa dhup tha. Humne waqt guzara, purani baatein ki aur kuch naye plans banaye. Aise din hamesha yaadgar hote hain.
(i) It is declared that the area covered by the central dome of the three domed
structure, i.e., the disputed structure being the deity of Bhagwan Ram Janamsthan
and place of birth of Lord Rama as per faith and belief of the Hindus, belong to
plaintiffs (Suit-5) and shall not be obstructed or interfered in any manner by the
defendants. This area is shown by letters AA BB CC DD is Appendix 7 to this
judgment.
The United States Air Force will be a trusted and reliable joint partner with our sister services known for integrity in all activities, including supporting the joint mission first and foremost. We will provide compelling airpower capabilities for employment by the combatant commanders. We will excel as stewards of all Air Force resources in service to the American people, while providing precise and reliable Global Vigilance, Reach, and Power for the nation.
After three years of waiting, my mother and father really wanted a baby. But it wasn’t me they wanted. No, man! No! They wanted any fucking baby.
You know, the meek, quiet type. Well-mannered. Yes-Sir this. Yes-Sir that. They didn’t want a motherfucker like me, man! Well, here I am now. I came. In spite of them. In spite of everything. I was born twice, man!
The first time I was born was in 1935. What I experienced twice I have no recollection of. Nothing! Zero! That’s one of our limitations, man, not knowing where we come from. Anyway, when I was born my father wanted to imitate his own father. They were both Protestant reverends. So to make some white man happy, my father asked this German missionary to ... name me. Can you imagine that, man? A white man naming an African child! In Africa, man, where names are taken so seriously. There’s even a special “naming ceremony” each time a child is born. Without that, it’s said that a child can’t really enter the world of the living. And just to make some white missionary happy, my own father. ... Oh, no, man! Nooooooh!
You know what that motherfucker named me? Hildegart! Yes, man. Hildegart! Ooooooooh, man! That’s how much I wasn’t wanted. Me, who was supposed to come and talk about Blackism and Africanism, the plight of my people. Me, who was to try and do something to change that! Oh, man. I felt that name like a wound. My father had rejected me. And my mother too. The one whose very womb had born me. Here I was, tied hand and foot, being handed over to the executioner!
Bear the name of conquerors? Or reject this first arrival in the world? The orishas they heard me. And they spared me. Two weeks after my first birth, my
soul left my body for the world of spirits. What can I say? I wasn’t Hildegart! Shit, man! It wasn’t for white man to give me name. So it’s because of a name that I’ve already known death. Maybe that’s why a name is a matter of life or death, more for me than anybody else. What can I say about parents who wanted this motherfucking compromise? It’s only recently I’ve begun asking myself questions about them, their past. You see, till now I’ve been so busy with the whole African problem I rarely ever looked at my own ancestors because the other thing was more important. But things are beginning to fall into place.
Both on my mother’s and father’s side, my ancestors came from Ilesha in Yorubaland. My father was the Right Reverend Israel Oludotun Ransome-Kuti. His middle name, Oludotun, means “The Great Being Is Always Right”. I think my father was convinced that he, too, was always right. In any case, that’s the impression he made. Oh, he could be so hard with his children! There was Dolu,1 my sister, the eldest of all; then Koye,2 then me; and lastly, my younger brother Beko.3 The only person who could call my father by his nickname – “Daudu” (The Good Teacher) – was my mother. We had to call him Sir. Yeh! That’s how it was! That’s what they call respect, man!
I don’t know much about my father’s maternal side except that they all came from Ilesha. But on his paternal side, I know quite a lot about my grandfather, Reverend Canon J.J. Ransome-Kuti. He was the one who was a missionary in Abeokuta. He died young, at sixty-something. My grandfather became a legend. He was one of the big pioneers of the Yoruba Christian Church. He was a musician and composed religious hymns. The man was so talented. The missionaries fully exploited his talent too. They took him to England to do some recordings in London. One of those who took him there was named Ransome. You follow me, man? They took him around London and had him record something like twenty-five records – 78rpms – with the label EMI. That was in 1925.
At the time, his songs were so popular in Nigeria. Religious songs, you know. But very Africanized. Even now his tunes are used for folksongs and things like that. Ah, Canon J.J., he was some man! He was so Christian that the traditionalists in Abeokuta almost killed him. Man, even after a hundred years of Christian penetration in Yorubaland, the people continued to resist. They were against the missionaries. So you know what had to happen to as fervent a
missionary as my grandfather. One day, he was attacked. They had wanted to kill him, but he didn’t die. They just left him there, thinking he was dead. But he was not dead. My grandfather was motherfucking strong, man!
Now, where was I in the story? Oh, yes. After leaving England, the missionaries then took my grandfather to Jerusalem. You know what for? So he could kiss the ground where Christ had walked. Imagine that! Now when they showed him Jesus Christ’s tomb, he was so devout he jumped in and wanted to go to sleep right there. But that’s not all, man! Once he got back to Nigeria, the missionary named Ransome thought he would honour my grandfather by giving him the name Ransome. So they put Ransome between his name to make it Ransome-Kuti. That’s how my family got the name Ransome, man!
My grandfather, though, wasn’t even born into a Christian family. His father – that’s my great-grandfather whose name I haven’t yet found out – was an authentic traditionalist who resisted to his very last breath the spread of Christianity in Yorubaland. But in spite of that, he was unable to keep his own son out of the hands of the missionaries, man. Remember that then, around 1800, the only schools where you could learn to read and write were missionary schools. These oyinbo schools didn’t mean shit to my great-grandfather: “The white man gives out his medicine at the same time as his poison.” I can almost hear him cry out, man, the day when his wife announced that his own son would be going from then on to one of those schools! “The white man is only here to steal our sheer butter!” My grandfather would never forget those words, however Christian he became afterwards. And they were handed down from father to son and only got to me when I was already big.
On my mother’s side, things are still a bit unclear. I know though that on her father’s side I am a descendant of a slave. You know that till around the middle of the nineteenth century the slave trade across the Atlantic was still going on, making ravages everywhere in Yorubaland and also among the Ibos, Calabaris and other peoples who lived along the coasts and in the interior – what’s called Nigeria today. Again this fucking matter of a name, man! Nigeria! Who ever heard of such a name before 1906? No joke, man. It was the wife of a colonial governor who pulled it out of her head or out of a hat. I swear! In any case, my mother’s father was a freed slave. He was captured as a small boy in Ilesha – probably seven or eight years old at the time – and was taken as a slave to Sierra Leone. The British decided to give this freedom thing just in time to keep my mother’s father from being shipped off to the plantations of the West Indies or
the south of the United States. That was in 1834.*
Once free, many of the slaves in Sierra Leone who still remembered their country of birth wanted to return. My grandfather was one of those. He was among the Egba from Yorubaland who left Sierra Leone around 1838 – on foot – to return home. I think it must have taken them years of walking before they got to Lagos. Two thousand kilometres on foot! Imagine that! My grandfather walked ... and walked ... and walked, man. The funny part of the story is that just as he was getting near to Ilesha, about one hundred and fifty kilometres away, my grandfather got tired. So he stopped and settled in Abeokuta and stayed there.
You see, my grandfather was just a child when he was captured. He grew up in slavery. He didn’t know his ancestors. He didn’t even know his real African name. He had to accept Christianity. That’s how he acquired Thomas. That’s the name the missionaries of Sierra Leone imposed on him. Becoming in turn one of those staunch Christians himself, he ended up building a church. He had only one wife whose name was Adejonwo, which means “We Are All Looking Up To The Crown”. Today I interpret the word “crown” as meaning tradition. For, in spite of her conversion to Christianity, my maternal grandmother continued worshipping Oshùn, the goddess of rivers and ravines. She was a descendant of that family which worships Oshùn. That was the kind of woman who gave birth, in 1900, to my mother Funmilayo* Thomas. Imagine that, man, today I could have been named Fela Ransome-Thomas!
I’m sorry for the trouble you’re going through.
Give me a moment to read your request, and I'll reply shortly.
I can see how this can be frustrating.
I’ll do everything I can to make things right.
I understand how disappointing it can be when something like this happens.
I’m sorry for the trouble you’re going through.
I can see how this can be frustrating.
I’ll do everything I can to make things right.
I understand how disappointing it can be when something like this happens.
I understand it must be frustrating.
I’ll do my best to resolve this.
Let’s see what we can do to fix this.
I know waiting isn’t fun.
I appreciate your patience
It’s been a pleasure helping you. Good day, and take care
I’m glad I could assist you today
glad to see you back! Let’s see what I can do for you today
Chief Master Sergeant David A. Flosi
Chief Master Sergeant John F. Bentivegna
Chief Master Sergeant Matthew R.D. King
The World Trade Center (WTC) was a 16-acre commercial complex in lower Manhattan that contained seven buildings, a large plaza, and an underground shopping mall that connected six of the buildings. The centerpieces of the complex were the Twin Towers. On September 11, 2001, the entire complex was destroyed in a terrorist attack that has come to be referred to as “9/11.”
