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| Contents |
Issue No. 299 -- 9 August 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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Is spring here already? One would think so from the temperatures we have experienced here in the Johannesburg area this past week. Shorts and t-shirts were the order of the day (not for work!!) and the long weekend (yesterday we celebrated Women’s Day) was perfect for relaxing outside.
.JPG) And yes we did get the boat to the dam!! Because of the fact that it was a new trailer and the first time since we got the boat back from the repairers and and and... we took our time getting to Hartbeesppoort. Then we took our time getting the boat into the water.
All went well as the pics will show!.JPG)
.JPG) This is a pic of the clubhouse at K'Shane...
By the time we were on the water it was a bit late for serious water skiing... lots of boats out and wakes making it choppy. We had a good drive around the dam and then took Flatwater through the ski course to set times. .JPG) Suddenly the boats disappeared, the wind dropped and Captain Ken decided he wanted to try a quick ski. Yours truly drove the boat and he had a successful ski – even though the wind got up and I could hardly drive in a straight line by the time he finished his ski!
So no I didn’t ski but we are planning on another trip this coming weekend and this time we know how to launch the boat so it will be much quicker.
I have changed my e-mail address for SAW. Due to spam it is changing from saw @ thos.co.za to editor @ saw.co.za with immediate effect.
One more thing... Captain Ken and I leave for the US at the beginning of September. I am staying on in England for a slightly extended visit with my dear daughter Deborah... great fun... and lots of shopping!!!
What this means is there will be no SAWmail for the month of September. I will give you all a reminder each week so by the time I go you will all be sick of hearing about the trip I am sure!!
This really is the last thing! We have partnered with the Coming Home Campaign and the Company for Immigration to bring you handy hints and tips and information should you be thinking about returning home to our glorious country. Check out this new addition in the Ad Hoc section.
These from Naseera Mitha naseera@inhep.com
Hello,
I hope you find these quotes on silence favourable for your newsletter.
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. - Martin Luther King Jr
‘Tis better to be silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt. - Abraham Lincoln
The cruelest lies are often told in silence. - Robert Louis Stevenson
Send in any quotes you love... that have some special meaning for you... and I will use at least one every week. New address! editor@saw.co.za
| Ad Hoc Article/s of the Week |
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Coming Home
Welcome to our new section! Each week we will feature a question and answer sent in to the Company for Immigration. We hope these will help answer any questions you might have regarding any part of the coming home process. If you would like to send in your own question, please feel very free to do so.
We will also be featuring a great amount of information on the SAW Website (www.saw.co.za) under the Coming Home section. You can also find out info by visiting our newly relaunched site, South Africa Online (www.southafrica.co.za) and checking out the Coming to SA section.
Here is a bit more info...
Whenever and wherever South Africans meet, the surest way to start a lively discussion, is to ask someone for an opinion about emigration from or remigration back to South Africa. In 2002 we (i.e. the non-profit immigration service, Company for Immigration, and the trade-union, Solidarity) realized that the return of South African expats had become a fact and that their inputs are essential for the growth and development of the country. We are neither interested in a debate about the reasons why people leave or come back, nor about the merit of their decisions. We prefer to provide a practical service instead:
offering advice and assistance to prospective remigrants;
addressing the problems which cause people to emigrate; and informing people about the pros and cons of emigration, to help them make an informed decision before leaving.
Interested? Want to receive our monthly newsletter by email? Have questions or suggestions? If so, please visit our mirror sites www.comehome.co.za or www.komhuistoe.co.za and leave your details on the visitor's page, or contact us at admin@cfi.org.za. We are looking forward to hearing from you!
Alana & Annatjie
COME HOME CAMPAIGN
Dear Come Home Campaign
Is your advice available to the public in general, or to certain people only?
Peter, London, UK"
Dear Peter
Thank you for your interesting question. We advise any prospective remigrants (returning South Africans) as well as any other interested individuals and organisations. We prefer to give personalised replies to questions, rather than to provide people with generalised advice. We have found that the people who contact us have very diverse backgrounds, interests and problems, and therefore "custom made" replies serve the purpose much better than a booklet with general information. Besides, it is much more satisfying to correspond with a "real person" at the other end, than a faceless organisation. We will keep the details of people who contact us confidential, unless we are specifically requested not to do so. Please send us your questions - we hope to be able to help!
With kind regards
Alana & Annatjie
COME HOME CAMPAIGN
Company for Immigration / Maatskappy vir Immigrasie
P.O. Box 1283, Pretoria, 0001, South Africa
T: 0027-12-3231428
F: 0027-12-3239587
admin@cfi.org.za
British Airways to transport our wild-caught elephants
This from the NSPCA
Contact Christine Kuch On 011-907-3590 Or 082 485 1433
Seven wild elephants removed from a game reserve in the Lompopo province are scheduled to leave South Africa on a British Airways cargo flight. The NSPCA, a statutory body which enforces over 90% of the animal welfare legislation in South Africa is outraged and deeply concerned.
The comment of “Spokesman for British Airways Stephen Forbes” in THE CITIZEN newspaper of 05 August 2004 that the safety of the elephants is their top priority.
They miss the point. Where are their principles and ethical standards? It is more than the physical well-being of animals. It is about moving with the times, the changing of attitudes and seeing the wider picture – and moving globally against the exploitation of wildlife.
Other airlines have taken ethical stands in terms of policy when it comes to transporting animals: - some will not transport wild-caught animals, others will not transport animals destined for laboratories and one European airline made a statement that it would limit the transportation of animals to pets and horses. For ethical reasons.
The NSPCA has tried in vain to obtain official comment from British Airways on its policy on transporting wild-caught animals and on this particular shipment. Calls to the Johannesburg office are referred to Stephen Forbes of Meropa Communications in Cape Town who was reported to be in a meeting. British Airways in London also referred the NSPCA’s Press Officer, Christine Kuch, to Mr Forbes of Meropa Communications in Cape Town. On being told that he was unavailable, BA Press Officer in the UK, Cathy West, took the NSPCA’s telephone number and undertook to call back with the official BA policy.
The NSPCA opposes the capture of animals in the wild for life-long captivity.
The NSPCA strongly opposes this current trade in wild-caught animals.
It is alleged that the wild-caught elephants may be destined for “zoos” in China where conditions have been reported to the NSPCA as appalling. Visuals of elephants at such “zoos” are available upon request.
The Good News
Guy and his good news will be back next week.
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.
Grab your purple hat!
This from Des Cowie descowie@lineone.net
Hi Maureen another email sent to me which you may like to share. Going to out to order my purple hat today................
Des
(Editor’s note: we have published this before but I am publishing it again in honour of Women’s Day)
If I had my life to live over by Erma Bombeck
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in torage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner." There would have been more "I love you's." More "I'm sorry's."
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it, live it, and never give it back. Stop sweating the small stuff.
Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what.
Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.
Let's think about what God HAS blessed us with. And what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally. I hope you all have a blessed day.
Beautiful Women's Month
Age 3: She looks at herself and sees a Queen.
Age 8: She looks at herself and sees Cinderella.
Age 15: She looks at herself and sees an Ugly Sister (Mum I can't go to school looking like this!)
Age 20: She looks at herself and sees "too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly"- but decides she's going out anyway.
Age 30: She looks at herself and sees "too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly" - but decides she doesn't have time to fix it, so she's going out anyway.
Age 40: She looks at herself and sees "clean" and goes out anyway.
Age 50: She looks at herself and sees "I am" and goes wherever she wants to go.
Age 60: She looks at herself and reminds herself of all the people who can't even see themselves in the mirror anymore. Goes out and conquers the world.
Age 70: She looks at herself &sees wisdom, laughter and ability, goes out and enjoys life.
Age 80: Doesn't bother to look. Just puts on a purple hat and goes out to have fun with the world.
African Dispatch – Part Two
27 July 2004
A distant relative recently sent me a picture of Grandpa and his brother and sisters that must have been taken shortly before Keith was killed—the only photo of Keith which I have ever seen. But even on this picture, he was the only one that was blurred completely out of focus. I therefore still don't really know what he looked like. Almost as if even then, it was decided that soon his life would be blotted out, the way one would cut out or attempt to erase the figure of someone from your photo album. It seems sad, and there still seems to be a kind of sad, melancholy spirit in the Riemland, even though I doubt that anybody remembers Keith anymore today.
Riemland, of course, means "Land of thongs." It was named thus by the early settlers who, when they arrived, were astonished to see the landscape teeming with herds of millions of game as far as the eye could see. The Riemland had deep, heavy clay soils which are very rich and fertile and yielded thousands of acres of lush green grazing in summer. To this gentle paradise, animals would be drawn each summer, their numbers so vast that it defied the attempts of any man who tried to count them. The herds consisted of hundreds of thousands of animals, which together, numbered in the millions. For a hundred miles or more, the rolling hills would be one mass of bellowing, snorting and frolicking animals until the cool nights of autumn would begin to send most of the migratory animals on their way down the long migration routes. By these routes, created by the feet of billions of animals over the ages, they would stream each autumn, towards the lowveld with its warm nights and sweet winter grazing.
For the old pioneers, the Riemland provided the wealth that they needed in order to build homes, establish farms, and raise their families. Black wildebeest provided the best hides for the leaders on their whips. White rhino provided fat and thick hides for shambucks, the sceptre of discipline across all of Africa. Ostriches provided crates of feathers which could be sold for gold and which would eventually adorn the hats and shoulders of gentle ladies from London and Paris, through Europe and all the way to Moscow and St. Petersburg. And then there would be the vast herds of buffalo, eland, hartebeest, springbuck, blesbuck, zebra and many others, that would provide meat and biltong, leather, horns and bone that could be used or bartered or sold. Since nearly everything that was connected with the building in Southern Africa ended up having to be transported by ox-waggon, the pioneers used a lot of rawhide thongs. Before the age of nylon straps and plastic shrink-wrap, thongs were used to tie shoes, to tie oxen and horses to the yokes that held them to wagons, traps and buggies, and to tie roof rafters together, or bind just about everything else you can think of. That is where the Riemland got its name. From the millions of animals which have been absent from the land for a hundred years and more.
Grandpa told me sometimes how they as kids used to amuse themselves in the Riemland. Growing up on the great plains meant that nearly every boy who could walk, was also an expert horseman. Before the age of movies and girls who wore less fabric than that which went into making the dress of a settler child's doll, kids had to think of less-complicated, but equally exciting ways to amuse themselves. Grandpa and his cousins sometimes used to like to catch little baby blesbuck in the spring. It is astonishing how fast and how far even newly-born blesbuck calves can run, but Grandpa said if you chased them for long enough on a good horse, you could eventually catch up to some of them. Then they would make a noose with the leaders of their whips, draw up alongside a running baby blesbuck, and gently slip the noose across the little critter's head as they flew across the earth at breakneck speed. A careful lift, and the panting little animal would be in the saddle, where they would stroke it and play with it for a little while before lowering it again so it could join its mama and the rest of the herd.
In the growing season, heavy rains often turned the black pot clay of the Riemland into a terrible sucking quagmire. Invariably guinea fowl and francolin would descend upon the newly ploughed fields just as the summer crop was germinating, and this was when Grandpa and his cousins would come to collect for the pot. At the first sight of horses the guineas would usually fly up and settle several hundred yards further on, cursing the disturbance with the sound of a hundred stones being shaken in an empty tin can. But if the weather had been bad for a day or two and the eating had been good, their feathers would be wet and their bodies would be heavy. The guineas would fly up for a span or three more, and then decide that it was best to just run. And that would give the horses opportunity to catch up. Not very long and the guineas would start collecting little miniature boots of sticky pot clay—boots which would soon become so heavy that they'd be unable to run any further. Flopping down to where they'd stick in the bud like feather pom-poms, they'd be snatched up and bagged so that Great-grandma could pluck their plump little carcasses and turn them into guinea fowl pie or other delectable settler's cuisine.
The same method, more-or-less was used across the Riemland and the eastern highveld to catch the last of the ostriches which were still roaming wild back then. They used to simply run them down on horses, before grabbing their necks, pulling back like yanking a handbrake on a car, and flipping a back across the heads of the birds. A bag across the head would turn any ostrich into a dumb six foot novelty which could be plucked or sent to the happy ostrich fields without the waste of a bullet. Times were hard, and bullets were expensive. The pioneer kids had to improvise wherever they could.
I went to visit the old family farm between Heilbron and Lindley, two years ago or so. A distant great cousin was still living in the old homestead, but I was surprised to see that the lintels were still black from the fire of more than a century ago. Great Grandpa Hobbs was the son of an emigrant who came to South Africa in 1820 from the green town of Wiltshire in the south of England. Even though they were, according to family legend, of Welsh stock, the Hobbses had come to consider themselves South Africans who did not feel themselves burdened with ties to the mother country anymore. They were an English-speaking family, but the neighbourhood consisted of regular Boers and their sympathies were distinctly republican. Most of Great-grandpa's brothers didn't want to choose sides when war broke out between the Free State and Great Brittain in the spring of 1899, so they left to go and sit out the war in Port Elizabeth. Great-grandpa didn't want to leave the farm, however, so he joined his friends in the republican army and became just one of many English-speaking Free Staters who were prepared to fight Queen Victoria's soldiers for the freedom of their country. Unfortunately nobody could have foreseen the dramatic events that would follow.
In the old graveyard on the old family farm, Burnettsland, there lies a grave which had the family wondering for years and years. Its inscription read:
"In loving memory of Mary Jane Hobbs born Dec 8, 1877, killed by the British, July 19 1900.
A light has from our household gone
A voice we loved is still
A place is vacant in our home
That never can be filled."
The story of Mary Jane was whispered about, but over time, it seemed that the facts had been forgotten to the point where nobody seemed to know what really happened to her anymore. It took me some time to find out what really happened, and when I did, it proved to be one of those interesting little stories which still abounds in the old Riemland, but which are soon becoming lost in the harsh electric light of a modern world.
May Jane Hobbs was my great-grandpa Frank's younger sister. 23 three years old at the time, she was ill in bed when the Boer and the British armies ran into one another on the old family farm. The Boers took position on a hill behind the homestead, while the British lined up their artillery guns on the opposite crest. Within minutes the whole valley was filling with smoke and shaking from side to side as artillery shells came screaming across the valley, and Mauser fire raked the hillsides on the other side. Eventually believing that the enemy might have taken refuge in the old Hobbs homestead, the British may have shifted their fire towards the house that had become trapped in the deadly cross-fire. Either way, it wasn't long before one of the British shells hit the house and burst through the thick, solid sandstone walls like an arrow through a watermelon. Mary Jane, who was too sick to leave her bed was mortally wounded as the bomb exploded and sent rock fragments and white-hot shredded steel slicing through the room in all directions.
With her beloved daughter badly wounded and bleeding profusely, Mary Jane's mother and her daughter-in-law grabbed a broom, tied a white pillowcase to it, and ran up the hill towards the British side in search of help. They eventually managed to find a British medical officer and angrily explained that since a British bomb had struck the innocent Mary Jane, he was obliged to come to her aid. The medical officer, however, probably had very little inclination to ride down the hill into the crossfire, and even when he eventually did, he rode so slowly that Mary Jane's mother had to threaten to strike him with the broom if he didn't hurry up.
Unfortunately they arrived too late, and Mary Jane could not be saved. It seems that her family never forgave the British army for her death. On Burnettsland, a stone will tell for as long as granite stone has words to tell, of how a British bomb had killed one of its own daughters somewhere in the grey mists of time.
As for great-grandpa Frank, he was caught by Boer pickets several times, on account of his British accent and his typical British appearance. And every time he was held as a spy and had to explain himself at length, before his captors would have their suspicions relieved to the point that they were willing to let him go. Eventually he had no other recourse but to shave his snow-white moustache off so that he wouldn't look so much like a typical Englishman. The old house at Burnettsland was eventually burnt down by passing British soldiers, since Lord Kitchener had ordered the entire land to be made uninhabitable, and not even the homes of British subjects would be spared. He house was rebuilt again after the war, but as I observed, the fire-streaks around the doors and windows remain etched into the ancient sandstone to this very day. In the war, great-grandpa and his family, like thousands of others, lost everything they had, except for a few jars of jam and family objects which they had buried beneath a hedge before the outbreak of war.
The story of Mary Jane didn't end there, though. Many years later, the current owner, who until recently still lived in the original old house, decided to remove one of the hedges in the garden. As he dug, he found to his amazement, a completely intact, but unexploded shell of a big 12-pounder 4.7 inch British naval gun. The naval guns had a curious history. When the British army found that the Boers had bigger and more artillery with a far longer range than their own, they began mounting the artillery guns of battleships upon carriages, which were normally intended to be used against torpedo boats. These they used to answer the heavy Boer Creusots who could reach them at a distance of up to 11 kilometres. The problem was that there would often be percussion shells, but no shrapnel ammunition for these monster-sized guns. That meant that instead of exploding in the air and showering the landscape with shrapnel, the bombs could only explode on impact if they hit something hard. They were really intended to pierce through the steel hulls of ships, or the stone walls of coastal forsts. In wet, soft earth, the bombs often buried themselves deeply and failed to explode at all. It was one of these unexploded bombs that old Van van Staden had found in his yard. Big, rusted, but still as lethal as the day it was manufactured.
Van promptly phoned the army and then the police, but neither of the two parties wanted to come anywhere near the old war relic, so he decided to just pick it up and go dump the bomb on top of the tin roof of one of his outbuildings where nobody could tamper with it. In those days the bombs were filled with an old-fashioned percussion explosive called lyddite, which would remain viable for generations, if properly protected. It was therefore probably still a most dangerous object that could have blown up half a bus if it had to have been dropped very hard. Deposited on the roof of his outbuilding, Van forgot about it for a long time until one day he came home to find his wife dragging the bomb hobbly-knobbly across the yard with a rope, like a big dog on a leash. When he asked her in horror what in the world she thought she was doing, Clemé answered that she didn't want the thing on her yard and was planning to drag it away into some distant bushes in order that the offending object wouldn't bother her any longer! The real humour of the story lay in knowing what a frail and delicate little woman Clemé was. The perfect English lady, passionately fond of flowers and gardening, though already small with great age, like a little bird with huge, bug-like spectacles. After the initial fright had passed, Van took the bomb and threw it down a borehole, where in all probability it must lie to this day—almost the size of a regular newborn baby.
He told me that later on he thought about it and felt sorry that he'd dropped the bomb into the borehole. "I thought it should have concreted it into Mary Jane's grave," to which he added with a wink, "It would have been a fitting symbol, don't you think?"
The last adventure that came out of the Anglo-Boer war during 1899-1902 was when a passing British column once came to look for men that might have been hiding out on the farms. Great-grandpa Frank's eldest brother, Edward, was home at the time, and since he had seen the column approaching, he had gone to hide in a hole in the dam wall further down the valley. When the soldiers asked his oldest son where their daddy was, he told them that his father was gone. But hearing this, two of the little ones piped up wisely: "Oh no, that's not true. Daddy is hiding in a hole in the dam wall!" Fortunately the soldiers thought that it was just another tall kiddy-story, and merely laughed about it. And so another family lived through what would eventually become a terrible and bitter war which left the Riemland almost as bare and desolate as it had been when the pioneers found it, more than half a century before.
Today the Riemland seems strangely empty. You will drive past several farms in order to find one that is still inhabited permanently. The old house of Burnettsland is sad and lonely. Clemé managed to hold on to a shrinking garden full of English flowers until she and Van had to move away to an old age home and abandon the yard to the weeds and the shrivelling hedges that probably predate the Boer War. My old uncle Kenneth still farms next-door and gradually buys up as much of the vacating land as he can. Of the old-timers who once used to fill the church in town, there are now seven left. "The youngsters all move away," uncle Kenneth told me. "And the old ones die off. You know how it is?" I do indeed.
The sun is gone now and as I look out the window of my office, Johannesburg lies dark and still. It is time to go home now. As I drive the twenty minutes, however, I know my mind will go stumbling down the dimly-lit passage of time, groping for the feint images of a world as it must have been before our two-legged kind came to settle upon this fine land. Somehow I seem to go there a lot, these days. My grandma of 87 tells me that as one grows older, you tend to visit the past more often. And then you come to a point where you realize that you like the past more than you like the present, and that the future really doesn't matter as much as you once thought it did. Well, we'll see. Some days it seems as if I'm there already.
Herman
Mind Massage
Nothing received this week from Maya.
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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 – Six Dollars to Spend
The author of last week's story was listed as "unknown" but is now known. The correct title is "My Exercise Diary" brilliantly penned by W. Bruce Cameron who is a well known writer and has a syndicated humor column carried in newspapers world wide. His website is http://www.wbrucecameron.com and is well worth the visit.
Two places just came open for our 52Best trip to Greece November 3rd. Five days in Athens and five days cruising the Aegean for only $2,495.00 including air fare, hotel, cruise, and most meals. A great deal with great folks going. Email or call me at 972-702-0000.
With Kind Regards, Sandy
Our eight year-old granddaughter, Mary Kathryn, was excited as she bounded through the door with her report card for the past nine weeks in her hand. She could hardly wait to show her granddaddy all the A's that report card contained. To her that meant $1.00 for each A that he had promised to give her.
Sure enough with a grateful heart for the excellent grades he saw before him, granddaddy reached in his billfold and counted out $6.00 for six A's. With a bounce in her step and joy on her face, Mary Kathryn hurried to her room with the money. This was hers to spend as she chose!
I prayed she would spend it wisely but delighted in watching her little mind spin trying to decide how to use it. A couple of days later Mary Kathryn asked me to take her to the Dollar Store. She said,
"Grandma, I want to spend four of my six dollars to replace the items in our treat box at school. That will leave $2.00 for me."
Well, that pleased this grandma very much so I made arrangements to take her as soon as possible. Picking out just four things at the Dollar Store wasn't all that easy. She loved everything. She would put some items in our basket and then change her mind. She rearranged everything in that basket several times. Finally she had it narrowed down to six items. Exactly the amount of money her granddaddy had given her.
"Help me choose four things grandma," Mary Kathryn pleaded.
I wanted the decision to be hers. I decided to not rush her and to give her all the time she needed. It was a perplexing place for an eight year-old to be. There were six treats she really wanted to share with the other children at school. But, she only had $4.00 to spend if she kept $2.00 for herself. She already had those two items picked out and put on the other side of the basket.
Silently, I said a short prayer for her. Suddenly, her eyes lit up! I knew she had decided what she was going to do. My sweet Mary Kathryn who has a heart of gold and is such a giver said,
"I know, Grandma, I will just use all of my $6.00 to give to the treat box at school."
My heart melted right there in that Dollar Store. All the while I thought she was struggling in her mind trying to come up with the right amount of toys for her dollars, Mary Kathryn was using her heart to solve the problem. She would give it all. Immediately, God reminded me that he says in his Word "Give and it shall be given unto you." That was the answer.
This Grandma makes that Biblical principal so complicated sometimes. And, yet, it seemed so simple to this young child who has been taught that God will take care of her needs. Lord, may her heart always be so generous and may she always believe that you do as you promise in your Word. Give unto Mary Kathryn as she so graciously shared with her friends!
"Give and it shall be given unto you." Luke 6:38
http://www.52best.com/six.asp
One Man’s Australia
Seeing is disbelieving
On Wednesday 4th August we saw a news clip of President Bush signing the US/Australia Free Trade Agreement into law. It had rattled through the Congress in quick time to meet his schedule for the election campaign. He called the accord "a milestone in the history of our alliance."
In a ceremony in the White House Rose Garden, Mr Bush repeatedly paid tribute to Prime Minister John Howard, saying that his "superb leadership has helped ensure that the friendship between our two peoples remains strong."
This was news to Australians. The lead media story of the day was that the Australian Senate had announced that it would reject the Free Trade Agreement as it stood and insisted on amendments being made. No enabling legislation - no Free Trade Agreement.
The Free Trade Agreement was to be the payback to John Howard for taking Australia into Iraq so this caused an uproar in Government. The Health Minister, Tony Abbott, John Howard's chief headkicker/kneecapper/toecutter and bovver boy extraordinaire trumpeted that it demonstrated the Labor Party's virulent anti-American feelings.
In fact Labor had shown considerable political shrewdness in not opposing the Free Trade Agreement in the House of Representatives where Government numbers would have rammed it through regardless. Instead they chose to hold their fire until the legislation came up in the Senate - where it would get a thorough democratic review.
This is because Australians are canny voters who vote in different ways for the House of Representatives and for the Senate.
In the Senate they traditionally give control to neither major party but give the balance of power to the minor parties and the independents collectively. This ensures that it functions as intended as a House of Review rather than as a rubber stamp or as a roadblock.
Americans were assured that the Free Trade Agreement is good for America. That raised suspicions here that it must be bad for Australia.
Labor chose to fight on a limited front. They undertook to agree to pass the legislation provided that amendments that they insisted on were incorporated.
One amendment has rolled a hand grenade into John Howard's Cabinet room.
Pharmaceuticals.
Australians shudder when they see the prices that Americans are forced to pay for prescription pharmaceuticals. They average out at around five times the Australian retail costs.
This is achieved by having a central negotiating office that calls tenders, on a competitive basis, for pharmaceuticals defined by technical specification. The winning tenderer is awarded a contract for the entire national supply of a drug at a fixed price for a specified length of time, after which the process begins again.
With new drugs the order can go only to the pharmaceutical company that holds the patents. Once the patents expire generics that meet the specifications are accepted.
There is a second tier to the system. It is called the Safety Net. Once a person has spent $600 on prescription pharmaceuticals in a calendar year the health care system picks up 80% of the cost for the rest of that year.
Once at this stage an Australian is paying around 4% of the price paid by an American for the same prescription drug.
I am well aware of the cost structure as I have type 2 diabetes which is managed by medication. While I do not notice the cost in Australia I certainly would in America.
Labor has made the hand grenade into a nuclear weapon by electing to take on the American pharmaceutical companies, not by amending the Free Trade Agreement, but by amending Australian law on evergreening.
This is not a dissertation on evergreening so I suggest that anyone interested look up "evergreening" on Google.
They reported to be about to propose to amend Australian law to enforce two draconian penalties in proven cases of evergreening:
" Fines equal to the profits made on a drug - backdated to when the evergreening application was lodged.
" The re-imbursement of the entire difference in cost between the evergreened drug and the cheapest tendered alternative - backdated to when the evergreening application was lodged.
But Labor has not yet tabled its proposed amendments which are still being drafted by independent lawyers.
There is an episode of Yes, Prime Minister, the classic TV series about politics, in which PM Jim Hacker ticks off his head bureaucrat, Sir Humphrey Appleby, over the tardiness of advice coming to him.
Here's a taste:
Hacker: "You are the Cabinet Secretary. You must insist that we get papers circulated earlier."
Sir Humphrey: "Alas, there are grave problems about circulating papers before they are written."
John Howard's government, it appears, can do what Jim Hacker's could not. It can not only circulate materials not yet written, but have them legally analysed and rejected as well.
The only conclusion one can draw, following Thursday's Parliamentary debate about the threat presented to the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme by the trade deal with the US, is that the departments of Prime Minister and Cabinet, Foreign Affairs, Health, Industry and Attorney-General employ large numbers of people who are both lawyers and clairvoyants.
Australians were not aware of this elite corps of legal parapsychologists until question three in the House of Reps.
That was when, with considerable flourish, Howard produced what were purported to be legal opinions from all those departments, all concluding there was no way, none at all, absolutely for sure, that the Opposition's proposed amendment to protect the scheme from being rorted by big drug companies would work.
What makes his gambit extraordinary is that no one outside the Labor Party has seen what Labor is proposing.
To suggest that any lawyer could give a firm view on the basis of no document whatsoever is, one would have to say, to make an heroic assumption. All the more so because the lawyers were apparently working off a brief similar to that from which the various government members were, which misrepresented even the limited information the Opposition has provided.
The Foreign Minister, Alexander Downer, pushed the issue furthest, claiming that Labor's plan was that "all patent claim applications [not just those on pharmaceuticals] that are rejected get fined".
It was such patent rubbish (pardon the pun) that the Opposition benches could not even get outraged. Instead, they chortled merrily while organising a sweep on exactly when Howard would abandon his resistance and buckle on the amendment.
Their leader, Mark Latham, told the Parliament the Government had taken up so many of Labor's policy ideas he was thinking of taking out his own patent on the "Ladder of Opportunity".
John Howard is over a barrel. He knows that to be seen to be the champion of the big American pharmaceutical companies is a good way to lose the coming election.
By now, doubtless, resident Bush has been informed that his Sheriff of the Western Pacific is in trouble with the Free Trade Agreement. What he proposes to do about it is anybody's guess.
Northern Lighties
Another public holiday on Monday.
Canadians seem to have been quite thoughtful in providing the odd day off over the summer months.
Almost as if they have bad winters here or something? Mind you, considering the winters, I am surprised that there are fewer holidays in the winter months than during summer.
Much as I applaud the need to frolic in the sun tra la, the need to have a bit of time off to regroup during the long dark days of winter is probably more important than lying in the sun, with a cold beer in one hand and a boerie roll in the other.
OK. That was a stupid comment.
Anyway this Monday we have a civic holiday. While it is acknowledged across Ontario as a holiday it is in fact a Municipal Holiday and isn’t designated by Provincial legislation as a statutory holiday. No doubt why all the retail stores stay open and all the Government departments close!
So officially it is known as the August Civic Holiday and is always the first Monday of the month.
I am not quite sure whether it is unofficially known as Simcoe day or not throughout the Province but I do know that it is designated Simcoe Day in Toronto. There has also been a concerted effort to get the whole Province to recognize the Holiday as Simcoe Day but unfortunately as a Municipal Holiday that would mean having to go against the wishes of a few local Municipalities. Including Ottawa incidentally who quite recently have seen fit to make this holiday into Colonel By Day. And I do mean recently. This was passed only in 1996. Which, considering that Lieutenant Colonel John By was the person who designed the Rideau Canal and had the town of Bytown named after him seems rather a long time to take notice of his actions.
Bytown by the way being the original name of Ottawa!!
There is a joke in there somewhere but I will keep it until the memories of the last election have softened.
Of course since Toronto first mooted the idea of a public holiday way back in 1869 the fact that it took Ottawa a further hundred years to make a decision as well is merely indicative of the way the Canadian Beaurocracy works. Mind you Toronto did designate it as a “day of recreation” which may explain Ottawa’s hesitation in acting on anything that smacks of pleasure!
Oddly enough in 1871 when a Bank Holiday was established in Britain Sir John Lubbock stated “Toronto in Canada had found an august holiday advisable and satisfactory”
Which then led to Toronto in 1875 setting the first Monday in August as a civic holiday.
Talk about going around in self-congratulatory circles.
This seemed to keep everyone happy for the next century or so. Until 1968 when the Toronto City Council officially called the Holiday “Simcoe Day”
Which led to a spate of local municipalities naming local dignitaries to the honour.
In 1980 Burlington called it Joseph Brant Day. Brant was a Mohawk Chief who was involved in treaty negotiations with the British. He was also known for his loyalty to Britain as well mind you. For those of you who live in the Burlington /Hamilton region this may clear up the belief that this day is named after a hospital!
In 1982 Brantford acted in true Canadian fashion and voted to name the holiday “Founders Day”. Then they named a “Heritage Committee” and every year the “Heritage Committee” submits a report to the city council with a name or an organization that will be recognised on the day.
Not to be outdone in 1983 Oshawa decided to recognize the holiday as McLaughlin Day. Yet another Colonel oddly enough but this ones claim to fame was that he had bought General Motors to Oshawa and thereby provided massive employment for the locals. Still does actually.
You will notice that most of these sudden decisions to name the holiday after someone only appear to have sprung to life lately. 1998 Sarnia named it after Alexander MacKenzie the second Canadian Prime Minister and the year after that Cobourg proclaimed the day as “James Cockburn Day. Cockburn being the Father of Confederation and the local representative in the Canadian Legislative assembly way back in the 1860’s.
It is worth noting that neither of them was a Colonel. As far as I can see anyway.
Anyway there have been some strong attempts to get the provincial authorities to make it Simcoe Day across the province.
So who was John Graves Simcoe?
Lord Simcoe was the first Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada being appointed to that position on September 12th 1791.
Mind you he did only arrive in Kingston in 1792. Which may explain why the first Government of Upper Canada only met on September 1792. An attitude that apparently lasts to this day!
More importantly he established the town of York later making it the capital of the Province.
The town of York, which later became Toronto.
What I found quite interesting was that Simcoe was responsible for the construction of Yonge Street, Kingston Road and Dundas Street. Yonge Street for those of you that don’t know is reputedly the longest street in the world. Not that either of the others is short by any stretch of the imagination.
Simcoe resigned as Lieutenant Governor in 1798 after returning to Britain. Given the short period in office he seems to have achieved quite a lot. There is a report that he was responsible for the abolition of Slavery as well. Actually it did state “the limitation and eventual abolition of slavery by 1810” so I am presuming that he merely set the wheels in motion.
Bu the most fascinating information I came across was the snippet that reported that while fighting in the American Revolution Simcoe very nearly changed the course of North American history.
During the battle of Brandywine when the Americans were fleeing Simcoe gave an order to his men not to shoot the Americans in the back. One of those fleeing Americans was George Washington, who, we all know, later became the first President of the Untied States.
So he now gets a Holiday, a Lake and a County named after him. And every year at this time copious quantities of beer are drunk all over Ontario and most of the people have no idea who they are drinking too. Or why!
That includes the other Provinces who also have a holiday thanks to Toronto’s original decision. Which may explain why Quebec and Newfoundland don’t have a holiday but seems puzzling as to why the Yukon doesn’t.
Ah well. I will be out on Lake Ontario manning a Rescue Boat for the Coast guard. Which is one of the better ways to enjoy a day off from the retail drudgery that even Colonel Simcoe probably didn’t imagine when he decide to start on Dundas Street.
The same Dundas Street that my Big Box Wally Market is situated along.
Way out in Burlington.
Ramblings Of A Francophobe
Mike will be back soon.
Changing Lanes – Travel 2004
Cape Town–2004
The keywords for our holiday to South Africa have to be recharging the batteries. Not until you leave behind all familiarity and day-to-day drudgery, and find a place that allows you to put things into perspective, do you realise how much you needed to relax. By the time we arrived in Gordon’s Bay, which was to be our base to explore the Cape, we had properly wound down, and all thoughts of evil distractions, like work and bills, had been adequately neutralised. Choosing to stay away from the bustle and rush of the city, we found ourselves in a remote, idyllic spot with a superb view across False Bay, looking straight at Table Mountain. Arriving in the evening, we were in time for one of the other jewels that makes me breathe deeply and yearn for home – an African sunset. The sky was the colour of liquid gold and fiery magma, gilding the few clouds with the purest colours, and as the burning sphere slid down behind Table Mountain, the sky turned a myriad of shades of red, maroon, burgundy, the likes of which no one would believe possible.
Table Mountain is the centrepiece of Cape Town. Looming auspiciously above the busy streets, it provides a stark contrast against the high risers, shopping malls and boats bobbing in the harbour nestled at its base. One thing that hit me was how well camouflaged the man-made structures were, unlike some tourist spots both in UK and across Europe. Though I would have situated the cable car at the top just below its present position, to allow the mountain to maintain its characteristic flat top, it blended in well. The cable car itself climbed the height to the top with ease, and its rotating floor avoided any prime window real estate hogging. Once on the mountain, the walks marked out on the rocky outcrops made for an exhilarating trek to some stunning views and scary drops. The twisting trails which the brave hiked up seemed miniscule against the sheer scale of the mountain. Affording a 360 degree view of the surrounding mountains and the coast, it is a must to visit.
Next on the itinerary was navigating the stunning scenery drives, winding up and down among the mountains rising up from the white foam breakers and the golden sands of the beaches and coastline below. Viewpoints allowed numerous enviable vistas, and my camera worked overtime to keep up! Driving to Cape Town from Hermanus, we stopped off at Boulders Beach to watch the little African Penguins go about their daily lives, protecting their adorably fluffy young, climbing the nearby rocks and dancing among the waves and surf. Being such ungainly creatures on land, they showed off their skills in the clear blue waters, living the enviable life of the unconcerned!
Feeling the need to at least experience the often-mentioned treasures of the troves in the V&A Waterfront, we braved the big city and explored the shops. Tourist traps though they were, the originality and array of goods and curios on sale were impressive! A true Aladdins’ Cave for the born shopper!
Being winter, we were saved the stress of long queues and heaving hordes. We took advantage of this off-season phenomenon to go over to Robben Island. Accompanied in the most part by faithful pilgrims from the new Rainbow Nation, we boarded the ferry and braved the choppy waters for the 30 minute ride to the Island. Once there we were ably taken care of by a passionate guide who regaled us with the colourful and shocking stories of island life. Whilst it made sense for our tour to be made from the confines of a coach, it would have been interesting to explore the island and it’s features on our own. At the main prison building, we were handed over to one of the ex-prisoner guides, who told us exactly how life was in the jail, the pervading hopes and continued faith of him and his fellow prisoners, and the agonisingly slow but ultimately triumphant struggle to freedom, both for the inmates and the country. The atmosphere was one of sombre, respectful reflection, and can be compared to the air of visitors visiting a concentration camp in Europe.
The last thing we were able to do in Cape Town was to venture out to Cape Point. Entering the National Park covering the peninsula, we were treated to yet another floral and fauna type, the distinct lack of trees and the fynbos shrubbery thickly covering the landscape. A chance stop at a coastal viewpoint rewarded us with our one and only brief sighting of whale. Our eyes were peeled for the telltale blowing as we trekked up to the old lighthouse at Cape Point, but sadly we saw no more. The wind literally took our breath away, and made the simple task of standing straight an effort! Driving down to the rocky shores of the Point, we fully appreciated the sheer power of the sea as it drove relentlessly into the jagged rocks, showering us with surf as it caught the high-speed winds.
Cape Town and its surrounds was truly breathtaking, and provided a different, yet uniquely memorable additional appreciation of the variation of Africa’s landscapes.
Having covered the whole country in terms of its topography and sights, my favourite spot would have to be the Kruger, with its harsh yet raw beauty, and its rich concentration of some of the most impressive and awe-inspiring wildlife in the world.
DollarMakers
The Power of Synergy
Have you ever learned something in a casual conversation that changed you life, saved you a lot of time and trouble or made you a lot of money? I have. Have you ever made a difference to someone else’s life by allowing them to share some of your resources, at no cost to you?
I heard of a family who raised funds through their extended family and friends to create a once-in-a-lifetime holiday for a family member who had experienced a lot of stress. By dividing the costs of the holiday, they were easily able to afford it. The project worked so well that they created a system to provide one exciting holiday every six months that could be won by lucky draw or by a vote. The excess funds were put into a trust account for future use, so nothing was wasted. The system was democratic and run in a businesslike fashion.
Year ago, I lived in Durban, South Africa. Next door to my office was the only restaurant/coffee shop that was open 24/7. Everybody knew that this coffee shop would always be open and that they were assured of good food and service. It did very well indeed and I asked the owner how he managed to maintain the long hours and high quality. He told me that there were actually two businesses operating out of the same promises. Two owners split the overheads and costs and each had his own staff, POS, accounting system, menu, storage, cold room and freezer facilities. They would hand over duties seamlessly at 06h00 and 18h00 and the customers never saw the change over. As a result of working together, their market penetration was maximized by differentiating themselves from their competition and their costs were cut dramatically, thereby increasing profits.
Joint Ventures and Strategic Alliances are not only for business. I once knew of a religious community in East London where they shared as many resources as possible, including lawn mowers (they weren’t Amish!), grocery-buying trips, car pooling, investment clubs, daycare and other systems that kept costs low, saved time, leveraged existing resources and created freedom, security and support.
Together, we can do more. As my friend, Marnus, told me, “I don’t need to buy an airplane to get to New York; I just rent a seat on someone else’s airplane.” Unity is strength. Through co-operation we can work smarter instead of harder. In our modern society we like to be independent, like the Lone Ranger. So we end up spending a lot more money and time than is necessary. And, when we fall off our horse, there’s nobody to help you back up again. If we work together and share information, resources and skills, the sky’s the limit. For example, the average boat owner in Vancouver uses his boat for 30 days out of the year. The rest of the time it lies in its moorage, gathering barnacles. That unused resource could become a cash cow and add value to a lot of people. Cynicism, fear, pessimism and bad experiences tend to isolate us from sharing opportunities. “Once bitten, twice shy”, is a very real barrier to the benefits of Joint Ventures. But when you find a “No cost, no risk” way to do something, why not take advantage of it? Let’s think outside of the box about how we can link up with people who have a common purpose and common values. Let’s see how we can use the power of synergy and unity to reach unprecedented heights of accomplishment. It costs nothing to ask. You would be amazed at how generous and open many people really are. Zig Ziglar said, “You can get anything you want out of life, if you’re prepared to help enough other people to get what they want”. Teamwork makes the dream work, when you team up with Eagles.
See how you can benefit from Joint Ventures, even if you don’t have a business! Go to http://robin.jvexperts.com
Robin J. Elliott robin@dollarmakers.com Robin J. Elliott is included in the International Who's Who of Entrepreneurs in 2002.
www.DollarMakers.com
Boetjie Worldwide
Ray will be back soon.
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USA – San Diego
Dear Maureen
The Just Jinger dinner concert is SOLD OUT, however we have added a standing room only for an additional 20 people with entry to the venue at 9 PM. The cost for this is $20 per person. If you were planning on coming and have not yet sent your payment in, please contact me first to determine if seating is available. This is a catered sit down dinner and concert and so we are limited to the available seating.
Upcoming Baja Trip!
A fun, overnight luxury bus trip to the tranquil town of Ensenada is being planned for late September or early October. You will not need to drive or worry about a thing - just have fun and relax! Hotel, luxury coach transport, tolls etc are all taken care of.
This trip will be limited to the number of people that the bus can accommodate around 50. Ensenada is a quaint Meditterranean style seaport town on the Baja Peninsula in Mexico, just over a 2 hour drive from the San Diego border. Its warm Mediterranean climate & friendly atmosphere makes it a wonderful destination for both relaxation and fun. It can be as peaceful or as hectic as you want. The nightlife is varied and can be quite entertaining. Papas and Beer and Hussong's are 2 of the unique nightspots that will have you dancing the night away and laughing at the amazing antics of the waiters. Time permitting; we will travel to the “La Buffadora Blowhole”. This is actually a cave in a seawall with an opening at its top section. Depending on tides, you can watch water being blown as high as 90 feet up into the air from the blowhole. Quite a sight! The local Fish Market is a great place for a very fresh catch of the day meal as well as to sightsee. Food in Ensenada is “real” Mexican style and very inexpensive. So are drinks.
Please let me know NOW if you would be interested in joining us. Once I have an idea of the number of people interested, I will set an exact date and time for the trip. For those folks on the mailer that do not live near San Diego, I plan on bringing some exciting events to FL, AZ and NV in the near future or feel free to join us here in California for one of the weekend trips if you are in driving distance. Have your friends contact us at braai_connection@yahoo.com so they can also be notified about events.
Regards
Derek Selbo
www.braai-connection.org
The Odd Porpoise
From: Dave Duncan duncandh@goldenrocknet.com
NB. Use your best New York cab driver's accent to read this
A research group captured an odd porpoise--it had feet. After it had been photographed and measured, the poor thing was prepared for release. Asked one of the researchers, "Wouldn't it be a kindness if our ship's doctor amputated the feet so it would be like other porpoises?" "Not on your life," exclaimed the doctor. "That would be defeeting the porpoise."
This coming week I am treating my youngest son to one of his favourite meals... cheese fondue. I found a good deal on Swiss cheese at my local Pick n Pay so I bought enough for a fondue.
Here is my basic recipe which Emmett drools over!
1 bottle dry white wine (cheap is fine here)
5 or 6 peeled cloves of garlic not minced (to taste)
1 kg (2 pounds) Emmenthaler cheese grated
Fresh nutmeg to taste (about a ¼ teaspoon)
1 – 2 Tablespoons cornflour
Grate the cheese.
Heat about half the bottle of wine in a heavy pan. Add the cloves of garlic and stir a bit.
Add the cheese a handful at a time and stir with a wooden spoon over medium to low heat. Keep adding the cheese until it is all used up. The mixture will look weird. You will have a big lump of melted cheese and the wine. Not to worry!
Keep stirring or get someone to stir for you while you mix up the cornflour with some of the remaining wine. Add the wine to the dry cornflour a little at a time to avoid lumps. Remove the melted cheese from the heat and stir in the cornflour mix. Return to the heat and keep stirring in a figure eight pattern. Let the mix come to a low boil – and watch out for splashes. If you keep stirring quite fast suddenly it will all come together and turn into a thick sauce all smooth! If it is too thick add a bit more wine (preferably warmed up a bit).
Keep the heat on low and find your fondue pot. Light the burner and get it going evenly before transferring the sauce to the pot. Keep stirring while you sit at the table and spear chunks of French bread and veggies (baby tomatoes, baby carrots, button mushrooms, baby sweet corn, blanched cauliflower florets, blanched broccoli florets etc.) and enjoy with lots of good wine. If you like the garlic, spear that and eat it – otherwise just enjoy the taste from the sauce.
Sangakkara ton puts Sri Lanka on top
Colombo - Kumar Sangakkara scored his sixth Test hundred as Sri Lanka posted 303 for three on the first day of the second Test against South Africa on Wednesday.
Sangakkara, playing as a specialist batsman in the series, was 157 not out after sharing in important partnerships with Sanath Jayasuriya (43) and Mahela Jayawardene.
http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=6&click_id=4&art_id=qw1092228842446B216
Big Joe's return a boost for the Springboks
Joe van Niekerk has been given a double role in Saturday's rugby Test against the All Blacks: a defensive fetcher and an attacking runner.
If the one seems to contradict the other, coach Jake White has an explanation: "Joe might just give us that added dimension by running off De Wet Barry in the middle of the field, while also giving us the speed to cover out wide."
http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=6&click_id=2200&art_id=vn20040811105919680C980183
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