Turf Wars - elections, war and rugby

 We've woken to several news items on the morning of Sunday 15 October, 2023. Firstly, our beautiful country and home, Aotearoa, is blue, politically, which is kind of ironic, blue being the black power gang colour and the National party being so anti-gangs. It was kind of like a gang stand off last night, in a way, all these patched up fullahs, from their respective red and blue gangs, in their fancy suits, shouting threats at each other, trying to take over one another's turf. A turf that has never belonged to them in the first place. Tangatawhenua!

The next scary news item is that Iran is warning Israel to back off, "before it's too late". Whatever the hell do they mean? I think we know what the Iranians mean, and it's not good. More fighting over turf.  Two gangs or nations, tribes, families, patched up, shouting and shooting at each other, only this time it's real bullets and not just idle threats. They don't wear leather jackets and their bodies aren't covered in menacing tattoos. They're not in fancy $3000 suits either. They're in full combat gear, helmets, boots and artillery. These two rival countries will spill blood and take over the land that, once again, was never theirs to begin with but a gift to share "amongst the peoples".

In the US, they have gangs of every kind, all sorts of anti something or rather, with people waving flags  and wearing t-shirts, driving around with bumper stickers on their cars proclaiming, "make america great again". I have to question the validity of this statement, (and please don't be offended, my beautiful American friends) but when was it great? A nation bathed in the blood of it's indigenous peoples until finally even the "settlers" turned on each other. Turf wars again. Patched up anti-heros, out for the kill; while declaring freedom and "taking back their land", that was never theirs to begin with either.  The Woodie Guthrie anthem from the 1940's, "This Land is your land, this land is my land", is still poignant and relevant today. 

I think it's bloody sad, the lessons that mankind has not learnt over thousands and thousands of year.  Now I know that I have taken lots of liberties and skimmed over all the intricacies of histories, etc. 

My point I am wanting to make is that from time immemorial, man has chucked on the uniform and colours of his tribe/army/gang, locked and loaded his weaponry, headed off to war to save his patch of dirt and fight for his countries freedom. What he is really doing is stealing another man's land and freedom, often killing him in the process and taking all he has. Kill, steal destroy. Not the best motto is it. Scrums and skirmishes over land and ownership.

 I'm not sure God's original plan was to have his children killing each other over a few acres. Surely the big wide world that God had created was expansive enough for everyone so that they could share all the precious bounty God had laid out for them. 

Ah ah... no way. There is not enough dirt on God's green earth to satisfy the greedy hearts of men.

Which brings me to my final turf war analogy - the Rugby. On Sunday morning I watched one of the best gang rumbles in ages. The Irish donned their Shamrock green armour, the All blacks their black and silver armour, then they ran out onto the battlefield to wage war over a small ball, a golden ticket of sorts, that would be the decider of who would qualifiy for the semi-final play-offs and hopefully lead them onto the final game for the auspicious, the grand and mighty, World Cup of Rugby. All hail the boys in shorts who warred for a full 80 minutes. The outcome being the winners waving their silver ferned black flags of victory.

If only all turf wars were so easily fought and won.

Wouldn't it be nice seeing the boys from both sides of a battle, head down to the pub together afterwards, have a few beers, sing a few songs, kiss some pretty girls and all go home.

Wouldn't it be nice if war was a simple as a game of rugger on a Sunday morning in France...oh, wouldn't it be nice?