By Donu Kogbara

WHEN I was a pupil at various Catholic convent schools in the UK, I encountered a small handful of nasty, twisted females who derived pleasure from launching physical and psychological attacks on their weaker juniors and contemporaries.

One particularly unpleasant character called Annette specialised in pushing little girls’ heads down toilet bowls and forcing them to swallow the bacteria-infested water. Another chronic bully – her name was Jane – was famed for mocking youngsters who lacked self-confidence or had visible problems like facial acne.

Societies tend to allow such awful people to triumph for too long. It usually takes a while for anyone to rebel against those who insist on inflicting misery.

I wasn’t afraid of the teenage tyrants who made life hell for so many of our schoolmates; and I frequently took them on and threatened to report them to the authorities for traumatising those who could not stand up to them.

But the unfortunate recipients of their malign attentions would beg me to keep quiet because they felt that there would be dire repercussions and were convinced that they would suffer even more if they dared to complain, either directly or via third parties. And I initially complied with the victims’ wishes…on the grounds that it is not appropriate to cry more than the bereaved.

But I eventually concluded that the powerless would never enjoy peace until someone ignored their fear of reprisals and boldly disarmed the sadists who were tormenting them; and I will never forget what the nun to whom I reported the bullies said to me after she had promised to take action against them:

“Those who go out of their way to torture others and throw their weight around are pathetic moral weaklings. REAL strength is the ability to become the best person you can possibly be – even under extremely difficult circumstances.”

I have recalled this thought-provoking and uncompromising statement at regular intervals throughout the 35 years since I heard it; and it has particularly preoccupied me since pro-democracy agitations engulfed the Arab world.

Colonel Gaddafi is the most famous of the Arab leaders who have recently been challenged by citizens who are hungry for change. And he’s a legend of sorts.

Gaddafi, a larger-than-life personality, has definitely done some positive things for Libya in the four decades in which he has been its leader. And let’s not forget that many Third Worlders have admired his refusal to kow-tow to the West.

Having said this, he has also thrown his weight around like the worst kind of psychopathic bully, both on his home turf and internationally. He has routinely tortured dissenters and thuggishly wreaked carnage on his own country in the past few months. He was also responsible for the Lockerbie airline bombing in the UK…and for the cold-blooded murder of Yvonne Fletcher, a British policewoman.

Gaddafi has spent a lifetime kidding himself that real strength lies in aggression and posturing. It does not seem to have ever occurred to him that a truly strong man would have adopted a different modus operandi while in office…and then graciously resigned when it became obvious that he had overstayed his welcome.

Ultimately, Gaddafi is a pathetic moral weakling who did not bother to be the best man he could be. And he will be remembered for destroying rather than building…and for winding up as a hunted fugitive instead of bowing out in style.

Kudos to the brave Libyans, Syrians, Tunisians, Egyptians and others who have finally summoned up the guts to say “enough is enough” and to risk and lose their lives to get rid of dictators. Nations do not belong to individuals or cabals. They belong to all of their citizens and I pray that the millions who are living in fear in every corner of the globe acquire the courage to fight against oppression.

 My empty nest

FOR years, various friends and relatives have been urging me to send Oliver, my son, away to a boarding school. They have told me that boys who are tied to their mothers’ apron strings until they are adults become too soft and spoiled.

They have told me that Oliver needs to learn how to become independent and needs to be toughened up. They have told me that it’s selfish to cling to him.

For years, I stubbornly resisted such advice because even though I was aware that Oliver would gain substantial benefits if his access to homely comforts and maternal pampering was limited, he is my only precious child. And we are so close, especially since his father and I separated when he was a toddler.

But when Oliver turned l6 in May, he told me that he was ready to fly the nest and cohabit with kids of his age. So I reluctantly agreed to send him away.

But I nearly chickened out at the last minute and nearly called the school to tell them that I’d changed my mind, that Oliver would no longer be joining them and that they could keep the fees if a refund wouldn’t be possible at the eleventh hour. But Oliver and my ex-husband persuaded me to stop carrying on like a wimp and let go. So I gritted my teeth and dropped my darling off.

I am absolutely bereft as I survey my empty nest! I went to a supermarket and started to weep like a fool when I saw some of Oliver’s favourite food items, which I will henceforth only need to buy during school holidays.

I daresay I’ll survive. Life is about transitions that are sometimes excruciatingly painful and we all have to come to terms with the fact that change is inevitable…and that children are not possessions we can keep under our roofs forever. But it’s not going to be easy to fill the huge hole in my heart.