Anger is an Energy Diamonds & Demons — Knowing Negatives Happen

Use it, Abuse it but never, never lose it

When one is young, life happens. We are light. We are free. We are positive. Then life happens, the bills roll in and we lose meaning as the purpose of paying those bills takes precedence.

If we are not careful, we become heavy and jaded; regularly a bit negative, without keeping the energy of anger to make a positive difference; it becomes negative, creating friction and antipathy. We all know a boss who stomped around barking and saying

– I have to do everything myself, I just cannot get the right people now!

For those of you following Premier League football, this is how Jose Mourinho became, very negative, counter-productive; his anger was no longer used to create positive energy; just justifications for his not staying in-touch with the realities of managing teams, tasks and people in general.

The Angry Young Men of the 1950s were seeking to take forward middle class angst (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/7633432/Alan-Sillitoe-Who-are-you-calling-angry.html) to create more energy post World War II, social development was happening; we were making tremendous gains on social equity after so many gave their lives to create the better World they believed they had fought for.

The ‘anger is an energy’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb7Li2Vs24Y) written by John Lydon (Johnny Rotten of Sex Pistols fame or infamy) and performed by Public Image Limited, PiL, articulated the frustrations a generation later as the disenfranchised expressed opposition to the greed is acceptablemovement of the 1980s. We do not seem to have answered these frustrations and the inequities and inequalities have grown all the more apparent and important in how we develop the Anthropocene Age.

I opted out of the business world in 1990 to use the skills and knowledge I had to revive my own motivations (and use some of my anger energy to good effect). IN 1994, my fourth job in humanitarian work had me in Huambo, Angola 1994, as Jonas Savimbi’s men and women were fighting the government of the time. Savimbi’s UNITA had some missiles but nothing to counter the government’s high flying Mig jets soaring in on bombing missions to reinforce the utter destruction of the country. Huambo and its airport regularly bombed; but not much more could be done to destroy this city; it was devastated as far as buildings and infrastructure were concerned. Utter destruction reinforced by the embargoes entailing there was no fuel for trucks or cooking. The smell of chips usually meant a vehicle was running on a mixture of diesel and USAID donated cooking oil.

We all have energy and must continually seek to use this energy to make life happen positively. Very difficult in such a setting where children could tell the difference between the noise of an Antonov bringing tonnes of relief food or the high altitude Mig about to cause percussion waves as bombs dropped in and around the city. No targeting, just wanton disruption to spirits.

I arrived and went on a food distribution; I was, after less than a year doing this sort of thing, ‘an expert’. I did know something as I listened to good people with knowledge and experience. Now I passed on what I could and continue to learn some more about the anthropological points regarding these areas being prime targets for European slavers in years gone past. Now people eked out a livelihood keeping body and mind together, trusting in the Catholic Church to look after their souls.

On the distributions I had a Savimbi man as a minder, a gentleman who spoke English far better than I spoke Portuguese (or any indigenous language although I started to pick verb stems and nouns as I listened to the patter of conversation among people waiting for food distributions). We spent time together in the cab of an old Volvo truck listening to the gears grind and the engine knock as she struggled with age and bad roads. Conversations were interesting and we got to respect each other’s job roles when caught in seemingly calamitous situations. Subjects ranged, the time the lorry’s transmission oil was stolen as we distributed food; hydrocarbons of greater value than carbohydrates?

The gentleman asked me

– Have you seen the demons?

– I have my demons but only when I drink and certainly not seen any drink in Huambo — my attempt to lighten what I thought was going to be a proselytising conversation.

- No Crook, the demons. Demons.

I was not catching his accent and my face showed my anguish at not paying more attention in the Portuguese lessons so I could take forward this conversation.

- You have heard the low flying aircraft at night?

- Yes — I replied.

- These fly in from Zambia to collect the demons and sell them on the black market. It is how we pay for some of our justified war against the oppressors.

Aaah, now I caught the accent.

- The diamonds, us English shape the word differently

- Yes yes! The demons, diamonds! Do you want to buy and be a rich man Crook?

- I have no money and would rather do my job to earn my money — I politely said to head off where we were going.

- You do not trust me? I can make you rich.

- Yes I trust you, but diamonds are a girl’s best friend and I think they should go to where they will be appreciated.

He saw in my face I was old enough not to get myself caught up in this. Nodded and we moved on.

Fortunately I had learned to know to face my demons with due respect. I learned never to look the gift horse in the mouth, especially when the horse was a rebel organisation looking to score points. I doubt I would be typing these words now if I had gone the easy path and attempted to ‘get rich’.

A few days later I sat in an old school classroom listening to one of the most terrifying people I have ever met. Listening and watching. He burned anger. He drilled holes in people in the room with his righteous indignation at the injustices of his people’s situation. He was the epitome a demon, of the Angry Man who had power; the power of life and death, in his hands. The energy he projected was tremendous. If there was a role model for the devil personified, this has to be my man. His energy was negative warning after warning came forth as he cared little for people’s lives it seemed. Real energy; all negative. His eyes burned intensely, like lasers drilling into your very soul. I looked around and realised he had a few people in the room in his hands, their destiny in his anger. People looking at their shoes and wondering if there would be shoe polish to shine shoes the way their own conscience no longer reflected a good image.

Anger and power. But not channelled to good effect. I was glad to have my own righteous anger as a shield to protect against this onslaught.

Before I left Huambo shortly after as Burundi descended into a ethnic cleansing nightmare, I received a wedding invitation signed off by Jonas Savimbi himself. Interesting.

The minder I had went on to serve in Angola’s foreign affairs when Savimbi went and peace, of sorts, came. What happened to the other gentleman? I do not know; probably still fighting his demons and no longer able to live off the ill-gotten gains of diamonds.

Anger needs to be used, channelled focused and made to work. It is an energy we can use throughout our lives. We can make it flow so when young it drives us to achieve — anger within ourselves to do more, to work harder, to work smarter. Anger as an energy. When older, instead of being a grumpy old bastard, channel the anger with a curving spine into getting out on cold and wet days and do something to straighten your spine, look the World square on and not just be another whinging old grumpy bastard.

Forget ‘ Just Do It’

The real motto is Use it, Abuse it but never, never lose it. Anger is an energy.