Alexander Solzhenitzyn, the Russian Nobel laureate and former prisoner of Stalin’s gulags, has died in Moscow aged 89. I can’t pretend to have read any of his books, but I have at least heard of them and I am aware of what a huge impact he made exposing the cruelty of the gulag system despite harassment from the KGB and then eventually twenty years in exile.

Sarkozy (keen to get on on the act) has called him “an heir to Dostoyevsky”. The letters on the BBC website all talk about how he changed people’s lives, what an inspiration he was and one even says that A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich showed him the power of literature to change the world. Solzhi, as he was known by friends in his adopted America, would probably agree. One amazing fact I read this morning is that in the gulag they were allowed neither pens nor paper, so he memorised everything and kept it in his head until he was free to write it all down.

I think every writer secretly dreams about changing the world, either with a huge scoop or with a great book. But maybe at slightly different levels and obviously linked to your circumstances. Were I living in Afghanistan, for example, I like to think I would write a book that would help the plight of women there. But as I’m not I am quite happy helping women in my world lose weight, discover matching underwear and feel better about themselves. Possibly not as ground-breaking or as important as Solzhi’s epic work, but it suits me.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

There are few things that make me as angry as the situation in Zimbabwe. I read this morning that 60 or so women and children have been removed from the opposition party headquarters for “hygiene reasons”. They were hiding there for fear of beatings, arrest or worse. Meanwhile Morgan Tsvangirai has taken refuge in the Dutch embassy following the announcement that he has pulled out of the election on the grounds that it will be a non-election.

He is right. Not only will it be a non-election, it will cause huge suffering, as we have seen already. Thousands of people have been beaten and harassed. More than 200,000 have lost their homes. Food aid has been snatched and distributed to supporters of Mugabe. A run-off would have amplified these problems and ended with more deaths and beatings. Mugabe will stop at nothing to keep his grip on power, to continue to destroy what was once one of the most prosperous and happy countries in Africa.

What amazes and angers me almost as much as Mugabe (and by the way, is total dictatorship the secret to not ageing? How young does he look? Or has he had a series of clones produced that he controls with a remote?) is the fact that no one seems willing or able to speak out against him. I suppose nothing the “imperialist west” does will make any difference, although maybe cancelling the upcoming cricket tour would annoy him. But his African neighbours ought to do something, especially South Africa. Why the silence? Do they really want a crippled Zimbabwe on their doorstep? Or are they too scared of being rounded up for hygiene reasons to speak out?

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

What the hell is Robert Mugabe doing at the World Food Summit in Rome? This man belongs in jail, not at some international convention. Added to which the irony could hardly be more poignant. He has sytematically starved his people for years. So while he dines in the Via Veneto, his people die of hunger. As one journalist put it, it’s rather like inviting Pol Pot to a human rights convention.

I know a journalise who went to Zim recently. He interviewed a woman who was beaten repeatedly in front of her two children so badly that the Daily Mail judged the pictures too gory to publish. Her crime? Voting for the opposition. I cannot bear to think about the suffering going on there now before the electoral run-off at the end of the month. And yet western leaders welcome this tyrant, this dictator, this despot in Rome. Why didn’t Berlusconi (who loves attention) refuse to give him a visa? Why doesn’t someone shoot him? Mugabe that is, not Berlusconi. He at least is only starving his people of decent television.

Closer to home there is also worrying news. Today Rupert goes in to hospital to have his knee operated on. It is a simple operation, but any operation is worrying. Although possibly not as worrying as his reaction to shaving said knee in preparation for keyhole surgery.

“I can see what you girls are on,” he said, looking rather pleased with the results. I have left him in the capable hands of a friend who will take him to hospital as I whiz up to Paris for my style guru event. If only the talk were about men I could announce the new shaved knee look. As it is, I will have to come up with something else.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Regular blog readers may remember that ever since I was a little girl I have lived with the idea that a large suitcase of cash would one day magically appear on my doorstep. Well, it has.

The night before last we had a friend over for dinner. He is a charming man, a proper bloke, as Rupert would say. He showed up with presents for the children and wine for us. He played chess with all three children (and let them win), entertained us with stories and told us that is we ever needed anything to come to him. “After all,” he reasoned, “you are bringing on the next generation.”

Then we started talking about what we were up to. I told him about Renew and how we had lots of press coming but were still short on punters. He asked me how much it will cost to run the first retreat. I told him. “Oh I’ll lend you that,” he said. Needless to say, my immediate reaction was to jump up from the dinner table and kiss him. Amazingly this didn’t put him off. Today we are having lunch to iron out the details but thanks to this particular suitcase, Renew Retreats is now very much a goer.

If there happen to be any world leaders reading can I just say one thing? Boycott the Olympics in China. That’s all you need to do. France (bless her) has made some noises in that direction but the rest is a deafening silence. As for Gordon Brown meeting the Dalai Lama, good, but why not do it in Downing Street and make it a state visit? No need to answer that, we all know why; cowardice and greed. Not two adjectives one would use to describe the people of Tibet.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

A teenage bride who came to Leeds for an arranged marriage has been beaten to death during a “prolonged and vicious attack” by her young husband over a three-week period, all with the collaboration of his relations who apparently took an instant dislike to her.

Sabia Rani, aged 19, from Pakistan, married Shazad Khan, aged 25 in January 2006. She suffered bruising to 90 per cent of her body, sustaining horrific injuries that would normally only be seen in victims of a car crash. Paramedics found her dead in her bathroom.

The family blamed “evil spirits, curses and black magic” for the horrendous injuries, but the truth is that Sabia’s broken ribs were caused by her husband stamping on them. He was convicted of her murder last year. The police are now prosecuting Sabia’s mother-in-law, sister-in-law and her husband for allowing the death of “a vulnerable adult” and perjury.

While I applaud the fact that the rest of the family is being prosecuted, I don’t think it is enough. If you have a dog who repeatedly attacks your children, you put him down. He is not willing or able to abide by the rules of your household so he is no longer welcome.

So it should be with people who are not willing or able to abide by the rules of our society. Personally I would put them down, but a more politically viable option would be to deport them. Unless we send a strong message to those living under these medieval beliefs and customs the “honour” killings and abuse of women will continue.

And before you start writing to me harping on about human rights, do you really believe that someone who does this kind of thing can be called human and therefore have any such rights?

In colonial India the British put an end to the ritual of Sati or Suttee, the burning of a newly-widowed woman on her husband’s funeral pyre.

The locals told Sir Charles Napier that it was their “custom” to burn widows.

“You say that it is your custom to burn widows. Very well. We also have a custom: when men burn a woman alive, we tie a rope around their necks and we hang them. Build your funeral pyre; beside it, my carpenters will build a gallows. You may follow your custom. And then we will follow ours,” he told them.

How many more young girls will die at the hands of their families before we have the courage to act against these “customs”?

(Read the Daily Mail article: ‘Family turned a blind eye’ as teenage bride was beaten to death by arranged husband)

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Has the world gone stark raving totally bloody bonkers? As I write, a rather nice lady in her fifties from Liverpool is languishing in a Khartoum jail. Her crime? Allowing her pupils to call the class teddy bear Mohammed.

Did A. A. Milne face such censorship when he came up with the, let’s face it, slightly dodgy name of Winnie the Pooh? Did the naming of Paddington cause even a ripple of scandal?

Gillian Gibbons yesterday escaped a flogging but was sentenced to 15 days in jail followed by immediate deportation. What punishment will they inflict on the poor bear I wonder?

Rupert has a bear that he was given at birth. For forty-five years this bear remained nameless. He is a rather special bear, able to cheer the children up in a crisis (he went with Leo to hospital the other day) and do acrobatics. Finally this morning my husband announced he is going to be named.

“I will call him Mohammed,” he said.

I’m not sure the name suits him that well but I’m prepared to go along with it. Mainly so that every time I look at him, I will remember that having the right to call a teddy bear whatever you like should be a right enjoyed by teddy bear owners the world over.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007

One of the most tragic and memorable moments of any Hardy novel is in Jude the Obscure. Jude’s son, Little Father Time as he is known, strangles his siblings and hangs himself, leaving a note saying “done because we are too menny” (sic). His reasoning is that Jude and Sue will be better off without the children and less poor.

Tragic as this is in a novel, you can’t imagine it happening in real life.

Today I read one of the most depressing news stories I have ever seen. An 11-year-old Filipino girl has hanged herself in despair over her family’s poverty.

“I wish for new shoes, a bag and jobs for my mother and father. My dad does not have a job and my mom just gets laundry jobs,” she wrote in a letter she put under her pilllow before she died. “I would like to finish my schooling and I would like very much to buy a new bike.”

Her family lives in poverty in a hillside shanty town, 600 miles south of Manila. Apparently little Mariannet could no longer bear to show up at school with no shoes and was also distraught at missing school when her parents couldn’t afford the fare to get her there. On those days she would just stay at home and do laundry with her mother.

A neighbour said of them: “The Amper family are always being discriminated against. They’re poor, the kids are dirty and the other kids don’t want to play with them. Because they’re very poor, they’ve been rejected by their neighbours.”

Any child dying like this is beyond horrific. But what really got to me was that this was clearly a very sensitive and intelligent young girl who was deprived of something she yearned for; an education. I’m not sure you can call education a human right, but it certainly should be a right for those who want it, and those who could benefit from it.

Perhaps Mariannet would have been the first member of the Amper family to make it out of the slums. She certainly felt the shame of living there strongly enough to want to escape, even to die.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007