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| Contents |
Issue No. 297 -- 26 July 2004 |
Editor's Message
Quote/s of the Week
Ad Hoc Article/s of the Week
Bits and Bobs
The Legal Beagle
Help Desk
Where are they now?
Club and Other News
Humour
Recipes
Sports News
Credits and Contact Info
Subscribing and Unsubscribing
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Update on the Telkom saga... and thanks for the ‘suggestions’ to help fix the problem!
We have now been informed that we will only get our ADSL line transferred at the end of September. At least it is September 2004! Meanwhile we have to pay for a service we cannot access.
Ah well... my other favourite topic of conversation is the weather – and it seems to be warming up already!
Regarding the water skiing... we didn’t get the boat back from the repairers in time to go – it is promised for this week. For anyone who is interested, we hope to be water skiing this coming Sunday now – Captain Ken checked the temperature in our pool here in Bryanston... one degree colder than the water in the dam!!
These from me...
Use what talent you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best. - Henry Van Dyke
Success is getting what you want; happiness is wanting what you get. - Dale Carnegie
There is only one small letter between the words CAN and CAN'T...and that one letter will TOTALLY change your destiny. - Doug Firebaugh
Send in any quotes you love... that have some special meaning for you... and I will use at least one every week. Usual address! saw@thos.co.za
| Ad Hoc Article/s of the Week |
TOP |
Whaling - Crisis Point
This from the NSPCA
Please let there be no turning backwards.
The International Whaling Commission (IWT) meets in Sorrento, Italy today. It is well-known that there has been bitter division between nations opposed to any resumption of commercial whaling and countries like Japan, Norway and Iceland who back moves to resume whaling on a commercial scale.
The South African Press Association (SAPA) and Agence France Presse (AFP) report that a confidential document has been leaked: - a document circulated to IWC commissioners by its Chairman, Hendrik Fischer of Denmark. The document indicates that a proposal will be made by Fischer to end the 18-year moratorium on whale hunting. SAPA and AFP claim that the document refers to “safe catch limits” and a phased resumption of whaling that could be in place by 2006.
“The SPCA opposes the killing of whales.”
(National Council of SPCAs Statement of Policy)
The current moratorium on hunting / killing whales has been in place since 1986 but it has been ignored by Norway. Japan and Iceland’s whaling fleets have been allowed annual quotas of some species for “scientific” purposes.
The NSPCA is hopeful that the South African Commissioner will vote as has been indicated to the NSPCA in the past that he would – opposing any move towards the resumption of commercial whaling.
The Good News – SA’s social security net widens to poor schools
This from Guy Lundy guy@centric.co.za
The South African government has taken another step towards alleviating poverty while working towards economic growth by announcing a plan to eliminate compulsory school fees for poor schools by 2005.
The new Minister of Education, Naledi Pandor, who took over from Kader Asmal after the April elections, made the announcement at the Education Stakeholders’ Forum in Kwa-Zulu Natal. Pandor said, “If we (the government) can guarantee a basic level of funding there should be no reason for a school that serves a poor community to collect fees.” There are still many schools in South Africa that have not yet risen above their position during apartheid of having inadequate facilities; in some cases even no proper buildings.
Recognising the role of education in developing the economy and alleviating poverty, she said “Dealing with poverty and its effects on the ability of pupils to exercise their rights to basic education is our fundamental challenge.” Education stakeholders such as the South African Democratic Teachers Union have expressed approval of the minister’s statement, saying that it was a step in the right direction.
The plan is another step to support poor school children, along with the successful R800-million National School Nutrition Programme, which provides free food to five million children in 17,000 schools who would otherwise go through the day trying to learn on an empty stomach.
In an attempt to address the worst problems of poverty in South Africa, the state already injects over R2.5-billion per month into the budgets of poor households through social security grants, providing support to over 7 million people. The social grants are aimed at supporting the elderly and disabled people, poor families with children and households caring for children, and veterans.
Annual expenditure on grants increased 3.5 times between 1994 and 2003, from R10-billion to R34.8-billion. The number of people receiving grants increased from 2.6 million to 7 million. To speed up delivery on grants, cut down on corruption and centralise the burden of administration, the South African Social Security Agency will be up and running by April 2005.
In his 2004 State of the Nation address, President Thabo Mbeki promised that the government would continue to provide a social security net and facilities such as free basic water and electricity in order to alleviate poverty. He pointed out, however, that this cannot go on forever, as the country must develop past the point where a large proportion of society is dependent on the state for grants. Therefore economic development plans are being aimed at achieving aggressive growth targets.
For more interesting and exciting news about developments in South Africa, subscribe to the International Marketing Council's regular BrandSA newsletter by visiting www.imc.org.za/goodstuff.htm or www.imc.org.za/subscribe.asp. You can also visit the South African gateway website at www.southafrica.info.
New Web site from Wayne Visser
Hi Maureen,
Thanks for your good work with SAW. I just wanted to let you know that I have just launched my website and have included a section on my book with Guy Lundy, as well as associated articles I have written:
http://www.waynevisser.com/rtb_intro.htm
If you find it useful, feel free to post it.
Regards
Wayne Visser
wayne@waynevisser.com
http://www.waynevisser.com
Mind Massage – Wallowing In Mindfulness
Will you forgive me for an unusually personal Friday Mind Massage?
This week, I'm taking a look at how paying attention can bring heartache--and why that's not a bad thing.
Does mindfulness hurt? Sometimes. Come share my pain...
{ouch!},
Maya ;-)
We just put our sixteen-year-old daughter on a plane to Brazil. She's going to stay for a year-long Rotary Exchange. We sent our oldest daughter off to Chile for a year, so we aren't completely green about letting go. Still, I cried all the way home from the airport. Her departure was more momentous than simply leaving for a year. Her two younger sisters returned two days ago from five weeks in Japan, and as the oldest is off to college in Nova Scotia in a month, we had exactly 48 hours remaining as an intact family.
We spent it being--what else?--mindful. We tried to drink in every moment. The six of us were so immersed in memories, laughter, sadness, appreciation, joy and the sense of endings and beginnings that we are completely exhausted.
Instead of racing around accumulating a bunch of this-is-the-last-time memories, we settled into hanging out at home. Mundane tasks were opportunities to be hyperaware of our interactions, our complex and comfortable relationships, and our excitement about all that lies ahead. Despite our efforts to remember that "last" doesn't have to mean "sad", we slipped into tears when we least expected it--right after laughing ourselves silly.
Wallowing in the present moment doesn't mean sidestepping heartache. In fact, heartache itself is something well worth wallowing in. With all the estrogen in our household, we're not shy about expressing ourselves or sharing emotions. We know we're sad, and sharing it brings us that much closer.
I don't subscribe to the theory that there is a higher calling in detaching oneself from the turmoil of life. "I, Robot" may be a summer blockbuster movie, but it's a lousy personal credo. I embrace the ups and downs of being a householder with a family, and find tremendous joy in paying attention to the richness of life.
That richness is far from over for our family, but we'll be sharing it a bit more virtually for the next few years. Next summer, our oldest is likely to be in Africa while #2 returns from Brazil and #3 takes off for her own currently undetermined destination. Our future family rendezvous are likely to take place in locales that are logistically logical. We won't be attached to gathering at home.
Instead, we'll remain attached to each other and our idea of continual discovery. We know our connections will grow even stronger and we will remember these two days of mindful moments strung together like twinkling lights.
It's not easy to wallow in mindfulness, but it's a surefire way to laugh until you cry.
There are worse ways to spend 48 hours.
A Mindful Drive Home From Work
This week's favorite summertime mindful moment is from Denise in Cincinnati, Ohio, USA. Denise inspires us to become mindful during our drive home:
"I put the windows down, turn off the radio. I take the time to look around and see the world as beautiful as it is. I'm not on a rural beautiful road, I'm on a highway, but even it is beautiful. I see the clouds, the tips of trees, birds and even busy traffic. I hear the breeze and feel the sun. I take a moment to see the people rushing around in their lives and I imagine what is on their minds. A car cuts in front of me, I empathize that they must have somewhere important to be - maybe a sick child at home. I am in no hurry, I'll get to where I need to be in due time. Life is very clear, although busy and not perfect - it is wonderful just as it is. I am able to put all my stresses into perspective - work is work, problems come and they go, but it is my work and I enjoy it. My family goes through its ups and downs, but even that is wonderful - it is part of MY life. Rather than looking at pieces of my life, I see it as a whole and I like what I see."
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Maya Talisman Frost is a mind masseuse. Her work has inspired thinkers in over 80 countries. This article appeared in the Friday Mind Massage, a free weekly ezine serving up a satisfying blend of clarity, comfort and comic relief. To subscribe, visit http://www.massageyourmind.com.
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©Copyright 2004, Maya Talisman Frost
52 Best Stories – Do We Fight or Do We Listen?
Good Morning Maureen,
Three men on a train. One a belligerent drunk and the other two faced with a decision. Although the facts are different, the decision is common to each of us. When faced with a problem, do we fight or do we listen?
With Kind Regards, Sandy
The train clanked and rattled through the suburbs of Tokyo on a drowsy spring afternoon. Our car was comparatively empty - a few housewives with their kids in tow, some old folks going shopping. I gazed absently at the drab houses and dusty hedgerows.
At one station the doors opened, and suddenly the afternoon quiet was shattered by a man bellowing violent, incomprehensible curses. The man staggered into our car. He wore laborer's clothing, and he was big, drunk, and dirty. Screaming, he swung at a woman holding a baby. The blow sent her spinning into the laps of an elderly couple. It was a miracle that she was unharmed.
Terrified, the couple jumped up and scrambled toward the other end of the car. The laborer aimed a kick at the retreating back of the old woman but missed as she scuttled to safety. This so enraged the drunk that he grabbed the metal pole in the center of the car and tried to wrench it out of its stanchion. I could see that on of his hands was cut and bleeding. The train lurched ahead, the passengers frozen with fear. I stood up.
I was young then, some 20 years ago, and in pretty good shape. I'd been putting in a solid eight hours of aikido training nearly every day for the past three years. I like to throw and grapple. I thought I was tough. Trouble was, my martial skill was untested in actual combat. As students of aikido, we were not allowed to fight.
"Aikido," my teacher had said again and again, "is the art of reconciliation. Whoever has the mind to fight has broken his connection with the universe. If you try to dominate people, you are already defeated. We study how to resolve conflict, not how to start it."
I listened to his words. I tried hard. I even went so far as to cross the street to avoid the chimpira, the pinball punks who lounged around the train stations. My forbearance exalted me. I felt both tough and holy. In my heart, however, I wanted an absolutely legitimate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty.
This is it! I said to myself, getting to my feet. People are in danger and if I don't do something fast, they will probably get hurt. Seeing me stand up, the drunk recognized a chance to focus his rage.
"Aha!" He roared. "A foreigner! You need a lesson in Japanese manners!"
I held on lightly to the commuter strap overhead and gave him a slow look of disgust and dismissal. I planned to take this turkey apart, but he had to make the first move. I wanted him mad, so I pursed my lips and blew him an insolent kiss.
"All right! He hollered. "You're gonna get a lesson." He gathered himself for a rush at me.
A split second before he could move, someone shouted "Hey!" It was earsplitting. I remember the strangely joyous, lilting quality of it - as though you and a friend had been searching diligently for something, and he suddenly stumbled upon it.
"Hey!" I wheeled to my left; the drunk spun to his right. We both stared down at a little old Japanese man. He must have been well into his seventies, this tiny gentleman, sitting there immaculate in his kimono. He took no notice of me, but beamed delightedly at the laborer, as though he had a most important, most welcome secret to share.
"C'mere," the old man said in an easy vernacular, beckoning to the drunk. "C'mere and talk with me."
He waved his hand lightly. The big man followed, as if on a string. He planted his feet belligerently in front of the old gentleman, and roared above the clacking wheels,
"Why the hell should I talk to you?"
The drunk now had his back to me. If his elbow moved so much as a millimeter, I'd drop him in his socks. The old man continued to beam at the laborer.
"What'cha been drinkin'?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.
"I been drinkin' sake," the laborer bellowed back, "and it's none of your business!" Flecks of spittle spattered the old man.
"Ok, that's wonderful," the old man said, "absolutely wonderful! You see, I love sake too. Every night, me and my wife (she's 76, you know), we warm up a little bottle of sake and take it out into the garden, and we sit on an old wooden bench. We watch the sun go down, and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing."
He looked up at the laborer, eyes twinkling. As he struggled to follow the old man's conversation, the drunk's face began to soften. His fists slowly unclenched.
"Yeah," he said. "I love persimmons, too." His voice trailed off.
"Yes," said the old man, smiling, "and I'm sure you have a wonderful wife."
"No," replied the laborer. "My wife died." Very gently, swaying with the motion of the train, the big man began to sob. "I don't got no wife, I don't got no home, I don't got no job. I am so ashamed of myself." Tears rolled down his cheeks; a spasm of despair rippled through his body.
Now it was my turn. Standing there in well-scrubbed youthful innocence, my make-this-world-safe-for- democracy righteousness, I suddenly felt dirtier than he was. Then the train arrived at my stop. As the doors opened, I heard the old man cluck sympathetically.
"My, my," he said, "that is a difficult predicament, indeed. Sit down here and tell me about it."
I turned my head for one last look. The laborer was sprawled on the seat, his head in the old man's lap. The old man was softly stroking the filthy, matted hair.
As the train pulled away, I sat down on a bench. What I had wanted to do with muscle had been accomplished with kind words. I had just seen aikido tried in combat, and the essence of it was love. I would have to practice the art with an entirely different spirit. It would be a long time before I could speak about the resolution of conflict.
~ by Terry Dobson from his book "The Teachings of Terry Dobson" who spent 10 years as an early student, disciple and teaching assistant to Morehei Ueshiba, the founder of Aikido, and then returned to the States to refine a system of conflict resolution ~
http://www.52best.com/tokyo.asp
One Man’s Australia
Glen will be back soon.
Northern Lighties
Nothing received from Charles this week.
Ramblings Of A Francophobe
I have recently been a little negligent in living up to the title of this column, but last week I was reminded of why I can claim to be a
'Francophobe'.
Last week I went to my son's school to pay his fees for the next year. A simple enough transaction, you'd think, and one unlikely to give cause for complaint. It was a scorching hot day and I parked and walked up to the steep hill to the access gate for the campus, to find it locked for 'security reasons'. Fair enough, particularly in view of the terrible Leigh Matthews kidnapping in Johannesburg, I am glad that they take care to protect our children. As it happens, the children are on holiday so there were none, but that's only a minor detail. I've long since giving up
trying to see any logic in anything the French do. So I walked round to the other side of the building to find both sets of gates wide open - presumably also for 'security reasons'. A little bit like only screening half the passengers on an aircraft for security.
When the woman in the office had finished her 5 minute moan about the heat, after I greeted her, I handed her the invoice for the fees, took out my wallet, and placed my credit card on the counter. This produced 'Ah ca alors', for which there is really no translation but I would say that the nearest equivalent in English would be 'oh shit'. As it quite clearly stated on the account that it was payable by credit card, as indeed most things are in France, I'd assumed that this would be acceptable. The gist of what followed was that I would 'have to go come back in an hour's time, and on enquiring why was told that she didn't know how to use the
credit card machine (is this rocket science?) and the woman who did was out. Needless to say there was no apology for any inconvenience to myself, rather I was made to feel, as is usual in France when you are a mere customer, that the whole thing was my fault, firstly for having been born, and secondly, for disturbing this good lady. Don't overlook that the problem here arose from a deficiency in their organisation, not from any fault of my own. I might have been a little more sympathetic if she'd told me the machine was broken.
As it would have been inconvenient to return an hour later, I decided it was incumbent on them to find a solution, so I told her I couldn't. Then she said I'd have to pay by cheque or cash. Not 'please' or 'could you', but 'you must'. I don't carry a cheque book, as I am not used to using cheques as a means of payment other than for paying bills by mail, given the fact that it most countries cheques are not readily accepted, although in France they are, as issuance of a 'rubber' cheque is regarded very seriously, an example other countries could follow. I thought I'd add that in to let you know that I do once in a while have something positive to say
about France. I was then advised to 'go to the bank and get the cash', ignoring the fact that the nearest bank was some distance away and that the amount concerned, about 4500 Euros, was way above the daily cash withdrawal limit. She also told me that if I didn't pay within a week the amount would be surcharged for late payment.
So we now have stalemate, she steadfastly, unapologetically and
obnoxiously refusing my valid means of payment, and me refusing to budge. I called the college director and made clear my objections, adding that normally in France, organisations are more than happy to accept your money, it's once they have your money in their greedy hands that the problems start. In the end, it was left to me to find a solution, which was that I would leave my credit card details for them to process later when the rocket scientist who knew to use the machine came back. Not a very secure arrangement but workable. I was left wondering why customer is always wrong in France and why it is always left to the customer to suggest a solution rather than the initiative coming from the other party.
In fairness, I have to say that many years ago I experienced a similar situation at a restaurant in Rondebosch, being told that I 'must pay in cash' after presenting my credit card and having it rudely thrown back at me in front of other customers, simply because their credit card equipment was out of order. The waitress threatened to call the police because I would not settle the bill by other means, despite my offering to pay by cheque (not acceptable to her) or to leave my business card (my office was opposite) and return the next day to pay. We simply sat back, ordered Irish
coffees, and waited for the police to arrive.
On Saturday I went to a large electronic store where I would have spent in the region of 500 Euros if the two 'assistants' on the counter I required had not been grouped together whispering what were clearly personal confidences to each other. They saw me, looked up, and looked away, several times. Perhaps it is significant in French that the word 'assister' does not mean to assist, as in help , but 'to be present'. I was finally able to hijack another 'assistant' who was unable to give me the information I wanted. I asked him to check, he asked another person, who shrugged her shoulders, clearly not knowing or caring either, at which he turned back to me with a grin of satisfaction and said, 'I told you so'. When I asked him to go and find out from someone who knew, he replied, "How many more people do you want me to ask?" My 500 Euros is still in my pocket and I shall make my purchases next week in the UK.
This what passes for 'service' in many shops and businesses in France, and these are not isolated incidents. Daily life is an uphill struggle when one has to deal with the locals. I survive by doing so as little as possible.
Tot siens
Changing Lanes – Travel 2004
The Garden Route - 2004
With the flat, endless nothingness, though still stunningly beautiful in its desolation, of the interior behind us, we made our way up the Outeniqua Pass towards the Garden Route, and the coast. The winding, steep road led us through the depths of the mountains, which loomed dauntingly overhead, and cut off the suns' light and heat. We stopped off at a rest-stop cum view point to walk to a waterfall and admire the views of the surrounding range. The waterfall must pulse with savage power during the rains, but catching it in the winter as we did, it seemed a little over-rated by the eager attendant who manned the small information centre at its base. As we continued to climb Mark grew more uncomfortable with the closeness of the road to the cliff edges, and when we drove into the low-lying cloud, asked where the fog light was. Just as I had wondered what the additional switch on the light console was in my car when I first arrived, now he was trying to find it! Of course, given the weather in Africa, fog lights are really not cost-effective to install, given that they would only be used about once a year!
Once we emerged from the cloak of cloud at the bottom of the pass, we hit scenery that could easily have been anywhere in England or Europe. Rolling hills of green that gently undulated between trickling streams and crystal clear rivers. The air was moist and cool - we could have driven through the Stargate into another world! Whilst the road followed the coast, we couldn't see it, as the vegetation and trees were thick, and we noticed a funghal, moist, mossy smell that pervaded the wetter areas. Being natural forest area, right down to the sandy dunes, which is what most of England would revert to if left uncultivated, it was more familiar to Mark. To me it simply couldn't be Africa. Not the Africa I knew, at any rate.
After the long drives, and early starts, we took this stop to relax, and as we stayed in the less commercial town of Wildernis, we had a restful stay. With the beach only five minutes walk away, we capitalised on the locals being absent due to it being winter, and spent the day on the warm, clean sands of what was our own private beach. The fast moving tide kept a build up of seaweed and debris off the sand, and we played in the sand recapturing our lost youth all day. One thing I noticed when I arrived in England and saw a few of the beaches there was that they weren't all sand. I had thought all beaches by default had to be sandy, but I soon learnt that shingles, pebbles and small boulders were by no means alien on seafronts across the country!
We ventured along the Garden Route, which is geared up to cater for the outdoor adventurer, offering activities from rafting and canoeing to paragliding and fly-fishing. With numerous inland lakes, and tidal pools, watersports was the name of the game. We took a ferry ride at Knysna to the Heads, which are land outcrops protecting the lagoon from the sea. Belying its treachery, it appeared a calm and non-threatening stretch of water, and after an exquisite seafood meal at a waterfront pub, we tried our first (and last!) oysters, before heading back. It seems to me that in Africa you are closer to the elements, and nature, and hence have a greater respect for them than you do in England. There, the towns are entirely self-sustaining, and there is no need to venture beyond them for entertainment. With so much development, we have lost the connection to the simple things that help to put life in perspective. I know that looking out at rolling waves, listening to them crash against the shore, I am more in tune and at peace with myself than when I am surrounded by houses, shops and roads. But there are some people who feel the other way around I suppose!
It is called the Garden Route, I believe, because it must have reminded the European visitors of their home. Ordinarily, green and lush gardens would only be seen in Zimbabwe as a result of much water and careful attention from a green-fingered miracle worker! It is one of the things I noticed within an hour of landing in England - everywhere was green! And my first thought was, "Gee, I wonder how many gardeners were needed to do all this!"
Our last stop along the Garden Route was in Mossel Bay - one of those seaside towns that borders on the unremarkable. More open and distinctly more seaside-like which was the case the further along the coast towards Cape Town we travelled. It raison d'etre was that it was the site of the first European landing by Bartholemew Dias in eighteen something or other. A replica of his small caravel was recently made in Portugal and sailed along the identical route to Mossel Bay, where is is now the main attraction in the towns museum. You'll understand if I don't compare it to the similarly dry-docked Victory at Portsmouth …
And leaving the Garden Route behind us, we headed on along the coast-hugging road, into the sunset and our final destination, Cape Town, stopping innumerable times to admire the breathtaking views, and breathe the refreshing sea air.
DollarMakers
Nothing received from Robin this week.
Boetjie Worldwide
Walking…
First of all a big thank you to the many people who wrote in to respond to my last column; it’s heartening to discover how many of you actually read my rambling natters, and also that it means something to some of you!
This fortnightly chat was never intended to be autobiographical, and I hope it has not gradually become so, because at best I am trying to share a very ordinary person’s life’s special moments with you in the hope that it will make you take a closer look at your own and so get more out of it. Ambitious? Yes, and perhaps a bit pedantic, too, I wouldn’t be surprised, but remember that 24 years of teaching leaves deep tracks in a person’s life! In my teaching days I always tried very hard to be a real teacher, not just an instructor or instrument for transferring knowledge. It was more important for me that my pupils left school being able to think for themselves, being aware of life’s intricacies and complexities, than it was for them to attain good marks. Of course good marks are important, but being able to live as fully and intelligently as possible is even more so. So, when I dish up events or impressions from my pretty ordinary life (and, let’s face it, I am a pretty ordinary chap all in all!), it is with the hope that you will read past the persona and find a little bit of value in them for your own life…
As far back as I can remember I have been spending much of my time walking, mostly alone. As a child it meant taking long strolls into the veld, enjoying nature and the solitude that one finds far from towns and villages. I suppose the fact that I was seven years old before my brother was born also contributed to these times I had alone. As I grew older these lone rambles became more and more important, to the extent that, during my final school examinations, I used to get up early and take a walk up the mountainside above Villiersdorp. It gave me time to find peace, to “centre myself” and to prepare myself for the day’s exam papers.
Even after school, while I was doing my basic military training in the Army Gymnasium in Heidelberg in the old Transvaal, I used to spend my Sundays taking long hikes into the veld. At university in Stellenbosch I often left my car at my rooming house and rather walked to and between lectures. Once again Sundays were for long rambles in and around that wonderful town. Now, here in Melbourne, I am again spending a great deal of time walking while taking my weekly photographs for my Cam website. In the process I have come to know the city, towns, villages and the bush around rural Victoria fairly well.
The point is, though, that one needs to be comfortable with one’s own company if one is going to spend so much time alone. For me walking is synonymous with thinking, and I know that that is why I like walking! Because of my work as grounds supervisor at a large private school here, I spend a good hour and a half per day on the hoof. That’s a great deal of time for undisturbed thinking...
There was a time not so long ago when I was in really dire straits. I had just arrived back in the Cape after my all too brief stay in Japan, had no work and finding work seemed an ever more remote possibility as the days passed. I was lucky that I could still afford a very modest room in that “guest house” I wrote about at the time, the one I called “The House at the End of the Road”, but I was living far below the breadline out of caution, as I had no idea how long I was going to be able to survive. From my place in the Strand to Somerset Mall was a good four kilometres. Very soon I realised that hanging about in or near my room was going to drive me crazy, so I got into the habit of walking to the Mall every day to go and have my two cups of coffee and to be amongst “normal” people, as I was surrounded by those near or at the end of their tether back in the Strand. I have always been a café cat, and this was my link to my past when I still had a family, a home, a car and work...
So I would spend a good two hours daily, in all kinds of weather, walking between the Strand and Somerset Mall. This was my time for trying to think up a strategy for survival, for making plans for the immediate future, but also for trying to keep my sanity. I admit that I often dreaded being recognised by friends, ex-pupils or their parents, because I felt ashamed of the position I was in. But, in retrospect, these walks were invaluable. Not that I managed to solve any of my problems! I did, however, manage to keep myself from falling into a pit of despair and all that entailed… How can one walk on the long, open beach on shimmering white sand, smell the sea and feel the wind in one’s hair and not be lifted? Being as close as I have always been to nature, this was my daily communion with God, with the very essence of life.
This continued for three months! Then I met a man who was to become a friend and with whom I ended up working. K. saved my life in a very real sense, not only because he gave me work and a renewed sense of hope, but because working with him encouraged me to fight a bit harder, as a result of which, when the time came, I felt whole enough to be able to face the challenge of translocating to yet another new country, where I would be with the woman I ended up marrying.
It would be lying, were I to claim that in those days of walking I never felt lonely. I did, frequently, and especially after the brief burst of intense happiness preceding this time, it was difficult not to feel lonely. But for me walking has always been a way to turn loneliness into solitude. The former is a nerve-breaker, the latter a healer of the soul. I suppose much of my life has been spent balancing between the two, and I feel richer for that struggle.
One of my favourite songs is George Moustaki’s Avec ma Solitude, a haunting song. There is so much loneliness in the world, there are so many lonely people trying to heal themselves from heartbreak, disappointments, distress of many kinds and sorrow; I wish for each of them that they could find the still, golden core of solitude in times alone, for that is where we can find the strength we need. Loneliness debilitates us, but finding solitude means that we can be alone and still happy.
We live surrounded by people most the day. Colleagues, friends, family, strangers, fellow commuters all impinge on our lives to a lesser or greater degree. I am believe very firmly in the value of time alone; time we spend with just ourselves, quality time with our selves, in other words. We can do this without robbing others of our time with them; we have to do this, because that is when we are supposed to reconnect with all that is good inside ourselves. One cannot be a good friend, parent or partner if one cannot be a good friend to oneself. Solitude is where we constantly need to renew this friendship with ourselves.
As you know by now, walking is my quality time with my self. Driving alone is a fair second choice, but there are too many distractions, that is why I prefer walking, even in the city, because we all know how utterly alone one can be in the middle of a crowd. (And, while I am writing this, a spam e-mail arrives with the quotation, “Better to be alone than in bad company”! I rest my case!)
So, my dear reader, see this as a reminder to make some time for yourself. Go for a walk or, if you are the energetic sort, a jog or a run. But give yourself time alone, please. Every minute you take to be with yourself and in surroundings that are easy on the soul makes the other minutes you are with people more meaningful. Take it from one who knows!
Mooiloop
Ray
raytheron at iprimus.com.au
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This from Marlene Smith
Dear Maureen
This is to notify that Dr Michelle Trumpelmann (MBChB FRNZCGP), General Practitioner will be consulting at:
HealthZone
Millenium Centre
17 Antares Place
Mairangi Bay
Ph 477-2090
as from 15 July 2004.
Kindest regards
Marlene
USA
Booking & Event reminders for Just Jinger concert featuring an opening performance by "Sacred Desire" and an art gallery opening!
The Just Jinger concert with the included Portuguese dinner buffet is on Saturday the 7th August 2004 from 8 PM midnight. I have been getting a LOT of calls, so here are the details again. Also those that have already sent in your checks, you will be getting confirmation & details in the next few days. Only 44 spaces left, book today!
The dinner concert features amazing music from this talented Platinum chart selling band as well as an authentic Portuguese dinner buffet...... BONUS Talented SA musicians Anneke Lemmer and Zelda Nera of the group “Sacred Desire” have been added to the evening’s music as the opening band.
Cost is $30 per person and includes BOTH dinner and the concert. Beer & wine are available for purchase.
We will not hold spaces without pre-payment.
Details are found at the Braai-Connection web site at www.braai-connection.org
No credit cards please send a check in details are on web site.
Location: Portugalia Restaurant in Ocean Beach. (Directions will be sent upon receipt of your check.)
This event is open to anyone, not only SA folks kids 16 and over are welcome. Feel free to invite all your friends.
With so few seats left, act now if you want to join us for this fun event.
Derek Selbo
PS: A reminder to those in San Diego and surrounding areas you are INVITED to a Gallery opening this Saturday the 24th July from 4 - 7 PM. Come view some amazing African inspired gift and home décor items and enjoy free food and drink. For details & directions contact “Scatterlings of Africa” at 858 -643 1142.
If you were wondering why I haven't used a joke you sent in; some of the jokes I receive are just not suitable for general publication. So send me suitable jokes and I will publish them and acknowledge their origin.
No suitable jokes received this week.
Black Bean And Cashew Chilli
2 tb Olive oil
1 small onion, diced coarse
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeno, seeded and diced
1 Anaheim chile, seeded and diced
3 Roma tomatoes, cut into eighths
1 15 oz can black beans (or prepare from dried)
¼ cup cashews (preferably unsalted)
¼ cup frozen corn (or tinned)
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
½ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp cayenne pepper
¼ tsp red pepper flakes
½ can beer (something with flavor)
Saute the onions and garlic in olive oil over a medium-low heat until the onions turn translucent. Add the jalapeno and anaheim chiles and saute a few more minutes. Add the beans with the liquid, tomatoes, cashews, spices, and beer, and bring to a low boil. Keep it boiling, stirring frequently, until most of the liquid has evaoprated (about 30-40 minutes). About 10 minutes before it is ready, add the corn.
Serve with rice and warm tortillas and a side dish of nonfat (dairy-free)yogurt.
Matfield fit - but unwanted by Jake
The mystery surrounding Springbok Victor Matfield has been cleared up: Jake White doesn't want him.
The lineout lock, rated by some as the best in the country if not the world, was sent home from the Springbok rugby tour two weeks ago with an alleged injury. This was diagnosed as no more serious than a bump and he was cleared to play for the Blue Bulls at the weekend.
http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=6&click_id=4&art_id=vn20040726104343502C639163
Sharks must wake up
The Sharks must rediscover their zest if they hope to be in semi-final contention when the Currie Cup season has run its course in October.
They were uninspiring in going down 16-17 at the weekend against Free State and have a lot of work to do before they next face Western Province.
http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=6&click_id=18&art_id=vn20040726120538589C601047
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