Just I and Myself

The house that Karl built

2011-08-15T08:20:00.000+02:00

THIS IS THE HOUSE THAT KARL BUILT

I met Karl 35 years ago. Hubby's youngest brother. Party animal and speed freak. Husband and soon to be father. Cordon Blue chef and top of his class in flower arranging. A man I found hard to understand and even harder to bond with. Then again, at that time I was not much more than a teenager and not tuned in at all to look deeper than skin deep.

Then, about 15 years ago, while my family was going through a very traumatic time, Karl came to visit and I immediately realised that this was no longer the party animal and speed freak he used to be. Here was a man I could understand and bond with. Suddenly I had a brother-in-law that felt like family. There was a depth to him that I could not find in any of my other siblings-in-law. This was no longer the rebel of 15 years earlier.

Now, my father believed that every man should at least once in his lifetime, build a house. It is an outdated idea in modern times, but in my father's time it meant that by building a house for his family, the man provides for his family. A house was not just a construction of bricks and mortar. It was a haven of safety to run to from the threats of a dangerous world. It was a warm hearth to return to when the icy winds of life threatened to freeze the very soul out of you. A place to go for nourishment when life itself threatened to starve the heart. It was a man's way of providing all that his family needed.

This morning I am sitting in the house that Karl built. The bricks and mortar construction, that is. A beautiful place set in a beautiful garden in beautiful surroundings. However, not the house, not the garden, nor the surrounding are as beautiful as the man that my party animal, speed freak, brother-in-law had become over the years... the wonderful husband, the wonderful father and the wonderful friend.

This afternoon we will say our final farewells to him at his funeral service. Am I sad? Of course I am sad that he will never again give me Clivia plants for my birthday, or challenge me to a day of walking, walking, walking, and more walking around the Albert and Victoria Waterfront, yet I also find a measure of joy in his passing, for what changed the party animal and speed freak of 35 year ago into the man I came to love, admire and respect over the past 15 years, was his close relationship with our Lord, and I know that this morning he is in the presence of the Source of Eternal Life... receiving his rewards for building that house for his family and friends to return to and shelter in.

Roadtrip - Across the Nyl

2011-08-11T07:35:00.003+02:00

I never intended this blog to be a sad place and maybe that is the true reason why I have so seldomly posted during this year.

The year so far has been a very sad and difficult year for us. It started with Hubby being seriously ill and it took him months to recover and fact of the matter is that he will not regain his health completely. Then my sister's youngest son had a massive stroke. He survived the stroke but will never be able to resume his normal life. Just last month, my eldest brother's wife passed away very suddenly at the age of 71. At work, during this time, we have also lost four people that I have worked with for the past 20 odd years and a friend that worked with me a couple of years ago, lost her only child in a car crash. It just never seem to stop! The newest blow came yesterday morning when Hubby's youngest brother passed away after cancer was diagnosed just two months ago.

However, to survive the blows that life delivers so harshly, I have learned through the years to look for and concentrate on the positive in any situation, so I will do the same in our current situation.

We were planning on going down to the Cape in September to visit all the family so on hearing the sad news yesterday, we decided to take the trip now so that we can attend Kallies's funeral. This decision now leaves me sitting at my friend's house in Pretoria on the way down to Cape Town. Due to Hubby's health we will travel down to the Cape in four stages and I plan to keep you updated on this road trip as we go along.

We left Naboomspruit at 14:00 yesterday and I do not have much to tell you about that part of the trip. I will just show you one photo taken along the way. About thirty kilometers out of Naboom, this is the view you get just before crossing the Nylsvlei Floodplain. This is Kranskop. A beacon to all who travel the N1 highway through Limpopo.

(Left Click to enlarge)

It is a lone standing hill about 30 kilometers South of Naboomspruit. It is alongside the Nylsvlei floodplain and legend has it that when the Voortrekkers saw it for the first time, the Nylsvlei was flooded and they believed it to be one of the pyramids alongside the Nile River. On the left hand side of the photo the typical reed-like grass that you find all along the floodplain can clearly be seen.

Although the actual reason for our trip down to the Cape is a sad one, I cannot help being very excited about it. I love road trips and I am going to visit my favourite part of the country (not counting the Bushveldt). I am looking forward to the mountains, the forests and the sea... not to mention all the dear wonderful people we will be visiting... all the more dear to me as this year, so far, has taught me that life is very fragile and there are no guarantees that there will be a "until next time".

PS: Went out with our dear friends Steve and Rina last night to a Dross restaurant and had one of the best steaks I have ever had. What would life be without the Steves and Rinas to lift our spirits?

A little eagle called Liza

2011-08-03T06:11:00.001+02:00

The 5^th day of July 1977 dawned as just another ordinary day in the life of a young wife and soon to be mother. With two weeks left to the arrival of her firstborn, and with a string of visitors behind her, this al too human kind of human decided this at last the perfect time to spring clean her house and get everything shipshape for the arrival of her baby.

Now those who have walked this path before will know: Babies cannot read and therefore pay no attention to calendars or dates. At twenty minutes past nine that very night, a tiny bit of humanity rushed into this world to change her mother’s life forever. This very human kind of new mother was suddenly confronted with the knowledge that her life and heart (not to mention her belongings, but that came a bit later) would never belong to herself again.

The tiny bit of humanity soon became a little person called Liza and quickly made it clear that she would never be ordinary (maybe the red hair had something to do with it). Although a very friendly baby, I quickly realised that Liza had an unusually serious side to her that would develop into an unusually independent, strong and determined character.

The story of the eagle that was hatched in the chicken’s nest and spent the first few weeks of his life with the chickens are known to most. He never felt quite comfortable and at home with the cute, fluffy, yellow little chicks and often felt left out until one day he looked up and saw an eagle soar above. On trying to spread his wings and fly, like the eagle overhead, he discovered that he was indeed an eagle and was never meant to peck around in the dirt here below like the cute, fluffy, yellow chicks around him. He took off and never looked back.

Liza is the human eagle of that story. Although fully involved in school life and whatever it had to offer, she always stood out as an individual. Not given to giving in to peer-pressure of any kind, she was never really accepted into the giggling circles of girls with only the vision of marriage and family in their future. She never became one of the cute, fluffy, yellow little chicks. She was always the baby eagle just waiting for her opportunity to soar.

After school, she found herself in situations where she did not feel comfortable, yet she never allowed it to clip her wings. She simply kept on exercising those wings until she found the upward current that would help her to ride the currents and soar the skies. Once she found that current, she for ever left behind the cute, fluffy, yellow little chicks scratching around in the dirt.

Today wings of another kind will carry her off to Switzerland where she has recently been appointed in a post that will place her that one step closer to her dream. I know that she has asked her sister how “Mommy” really feels about her leaving to live so far away and here I want to tell her how “Mommy” feels.

Ouma Breggie (another one that could have soared if only she had the opportunity) taught “Mommy” that children did not owe their parents anything; however, they owed everything that their parents did for them, to their children. So “Mommy” feels that you should take the little strength that you have inherited from your parents (the eagles, not the chickens), add your own and soar to the highest heights that you are capable off. In the spirit, “Mommy” will be right up there with her beautiful eagle, riding the currents of pride and joy; in body, she will be right here at home, waiting to catch you, should you decide to land for a rest.

(Truth is, I want to catch you, clip your wings and lock you up in a cage and never let you go, but that would be selfish, now wouldn’t it?)

Dear Anders Behring Breivik,

2011-07-28T09:21:00.003+02:00

Dear Anders Behring Breivik,

Actually that is completely wrong for I cannot find it in myself to call you "dear". I can call you many other things, but definitely not "dear".

You call yourself a Christian; I call you Evil. What you have done was certainly not Christ inspired. It makes me incredibly sad when people use the name of the One whom I worship, to justify their deeds in service of the one they worship, who is in fact the total antithesis of the Christ I follow.

This world already has such a warped idea of what a Christian is, that I have stopped calling myself a Christian. I much rather call myself a Christ follower, for that is what my relationship with Christ means. He is my role model, my guide, my comfort, in fact my reason for being on this earth.

Through the years I have come to realise that being a Christ follower has nothing to do with religion; it is a 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, way of life. It is a way of life where the follower strives to be Jesus’s representative here on earth; doing what He would have done, speaking how He would have spoken and subjecting all thought processes to His guidance.

Please don’t get me wrong, as a Christ follower I am everything but perfect. I make mistakes. I act and say and think and feel like every other human. The difference is that I know that I am not perfect and only has the right to call Him Master because of His grace… a grace that passes all understanding… and when I make mistakes, I have the wonderful option to confess it to Him (and those who I have harmed through the mistake) and ask for forgiveness and He will forgive me.

However, what you have done cannot simply be called a mistake. What you have done can only be called an act of evil under the direct inspiration of Satan. So please do not call yourself a Christian, it just adds to the misguided idea that the world has of Christianity and is an insult to the Christ who gave his life on a cross to set me free from the bondage of your master.

Rather realise who you were serving when you decided to go on your murderous rampage and just maybe then you will be able to turn from him and ask Jesus for His forgiveness, because it is His nature to forgive whoever comes to Him in honesty and truth.

Teatime is for the Birds

2011-06-28T18:29:00.000+02:00

We are experiencing one of the coldest spells in years here in the Bushveldt. We have sub-zero degree temperatures at night and the early mornings and evenings are freezingly cold. Now I know that for many of my Blogger friends, these temperatures are quite mild for winter, but for us here in the Bushveldt of South Africa, it is very unusual.

Humans can cope with this, as we dress according to the weather, but animals and birds, although well protected by their fur and feathers, cannot add that extra scarve or jacket when it gets unusually cold.

The extremely cold weather also affects their food supply. It seems that worms and insects stay “indoors” and of course, it being winter, seeds, berries and other vegetation that normally forms part of their daily diet, are in short supply and they have to find food elsewhere.

These birds quickly learned that my spot among the drains (see this post ) at work, is one of the most pleasant places to be on a cold winters morning. I am not sure what breed they are, as I am not a birder at all, but I do appreciate them coming to share the warms sun in my little corner.

Mr Bird happily grooming himself in the warm sun.

They are there every morning and at teatime (somewhere around 10 o'clock, work permitting) they become quite raucous. This is when Johannes Mojela, a co-worker, comes out and feeds them breadcrumbs. It is so amusing to watch them. They compete for the biggest crumbs and quite often two become so involved in their argument over a crumb, that they completely miss a third one who gets away with the crumb.

Ah!... teatime at last.

Mr Oliver Bird: "Please Sir,....."

"Mine is bigger than yours"

Thanks for the company - and the food - but we have to leave now.

22 June 2011

2011-06-22T13:36:00.000+02:00

Last year I showed you here how the sun rising over the Bushveldt, seen through a bus window, looked.

This is how it looked this year.

Near darkness and bare trees from the bus stop at 06h30.

The sun just showing its head over the township just outside town at 06h45.

Brother Sun peeping at us through the bush at 06h50.

A happy day! Now I can start looking forward to summer skies and thunderstorms!

Winter Rain the Bushveldt

2011-06-08T09:51:00.000+02:00

Rain comes to the Bushveldt in the summer...

well it is supposed to, but this year the Bushveldt is experiencing rain in June,

the middle of winter.

I woke up this morning to the roll of thunder and on going outside,

I was greeted by a dramatic display of lighting in the clouds to the North.

The Weather Bureau is forecasting rain, very cold weather and even snow

for the next couple of days over most of the country.

How fortunate that the weekend will comes smack in the middle of this and I can sleep in.

I am not a winter person at all.

Oh no, give me the sun and the warmth any day.

By the time I left for work, the rain was gone and on the way to work I managed to grab the sun breaking through.

Not an award winning photo, but I could not resist this one

of the sun through the clouds and farm gate on the way to work.

"Bulletjie" Rugby

2011-06-05T09:15:00.001+02:00

In my country we have a religion that just about every white person, and lately more and more black persons, follow. It is called Rugby. Now in the Christian religion we have Sunday School and in the Northern Provinces we now have Sunday School for Rugby also... it is called Bulletjie Rugby (Rugby for little Bulls). Now whether you are a Rugby fan or not (like me) Bulletjie Rugby is cute!

All the basic Rugby rules apply and although the boys (and coaches) are very serious about their game, it is in fact just a big load of fun. No actual score is kept and the referees are not very strict. However, watching the parents, especially the mothers, get extremely excited and their reaction when their son scores a try, can be likened to the reaction of most South Africans when the Springboks score a winning try in the World Cup Series.

My son is the coach for one of the teams at a school in Potgietersrus (Mokopane) and yesterday we all piled into the car and went off to watch the last tournament of the season. Altogether 880 boys between the ages of 4 and 8 years of age took part and it was great fun being part of this event.

Team talk before the game.

Not a chance that he will be stopped.

On the way to the goal posts....

...and he scores!

Click on the photos to enlarge.

The World in a Screenshot.

2011-05-31T19:10:00.001+02:00

For the first time in many, many months, I took a look at my cluster map today, and were shocked out of my cute little socks! I averaged more visits per month since I put my blog on hold, than I did while writing! Should I read a message in that?

This is a snip shot of my cluster map.

It seems that I receive visitors from all over the planet, even from places where I did not know places existed. Little dots in the middle of the ocean and on islands that I have never heard of. Then there are those exotic names that just have to be investigated further. Of course this results in me spending many megs (short for megabytes of internet usage) on travelling the world on Google Earth.

Antigua and Barbuda
Guyana
Belize
Aruba
Belarus
Republic of Moldova
Brunei Darussalam, and
Montenegro
Wonderful, mysterious places!

Then there are those places that only a couple of years ago, we would not have had any access to.

Bosnia and Herzegovina
Russia
Croatia
Serbia
Ukraine
Estonia, and
Lithuania

Pure poetry to my ears.

Of course there are my good friends here at home,
in the United States,
in the United Kingdom
in Europe, and
in Canada without whom my blog would not be worth the signal used to send it.

What I cannot fathom though, is the regular visits my blog receives from Norway and Iceland. Both such fascinating places. Whoever over there could possibly be interested in the senseless rantings and ravings of a middle aged human over here in the Bushveldt? If you read this, please, please, pretty please, leave a comment and release me from the suspense.

My biggest blog surprise however, did not come from my cluster map. A couple of days ago, one of my favourite people at work walked into my office and asked if I would please print the photos from my Moorddrift and Makapansgat post for him. "How do you know about my blog?" I asked flabbergasted. His daughter was busy with an assignment for school and on doing a Google search, they landed on my blog. "How did you know it was my blog?" I asked. They recognised my photo. What a surprise. Here I am believing that it was just I and myself who knew about my bloggie! Now I have a follower from my hometown, and I am pleased as punch!

THEN AND NOW (or maybe just the rantings of a confused fifty-something-year-old)

2011-05-30T13:11:00.000+02:00

As a child and young person, I often observed my parents, teachers and other adults around me and wished that I, like them, had all the answers to all the questions. Whenever I had a question, I was sure to find an answer from one of them. They knew so clearly what was good and what was bad; what was right and what was wrong; what was accepted and what was not, etc, etc, etc.

Then as I grew up, married and had children of my own, I started suspecting that they never truly had all the answers. Now, I was the parent, the teacher and the other adult around the children and young persons and they looked up to me to answer their never ending string of questions… and yes, you’ve guessed it, I did not always have the answer, but somehow I always managed to give them some answer.

Now, as a fifty-something person, I know, with undeniable certainty, that I do not have all the answers, because you see, suddenly the questions have changed. The good has become bad, the right has become wrong and the acceptable has become unacceptable. Let me explain. (Maybe this only has relevance if you live in good old ZA, but somehow I think it is more widespread.)

Then, it was good to belong to a church and attend meetings regularly. Now, if you do that, your intelligence is questioned, as you believe in fairy tales. God is put on a par with Father Christmas and the tooth fairy.

Then, you fell in love, got married and started a family. Now, you start a family, maybe get married and usually end up in the divorce courts (that is if you went to the trouble of getting married at all).

Then, to be elected as a member of parliament, the politician had to have a degree and many years of experience in his selected field and politics. Now all you need is Grade 5, a number of years in a revolutionary organisation and preferably a few years in prison.

Then, you worked hard, putting in extra time and effort, in a bid to be noticed and advanced in your career. Now you arrive at work, stay for at least two hours and let the union, Affirmative Action and BEE (Black Economic Empowerment) do the rest.

Then, you worked your ass off in Grade 11 and 12 to obtain marks that would ensure you a place at university. Now, you pass with whatever marks, mob the university of your choice on registration day, without a single cent in your pocket, and demand entry… and obtain entry, no matter that three years later you are still repeating courses from your first year.

So I can go on and on and on, but I will not bore you any further with the culture of mediocrity that has become part of everyday life in my country. I merely wish to explain how I have become this completely confused fifty-something-year-old who no longer has any answer to any question that needs an answer.

PS: Actually, my state of confusion is confirmed by the fact that I posted the above dribble as my first post in so many months. I know I should be posting about much more important and relevant subjects and with any luck the cloud of confusion aroung my head and life will lift soon and I will write a post that makes sense.

SO LONG... for now!

2011-01-23T09:58:00.001+02:00

There is a time to come,
and a time to go,
but now is the time
to say so long.

I will still visit all my favourite blogs and leave comments when I have one to leave, but I will not be posting at all for a while... how long "a while" will be, only time will tell.

See you on your blogs,
Regards,
A very Human Anne.

Hazardous! Not for sensitive women!

2011-01-05T09:24:00.000+02:00

Paging through my photo files I came upon this and found it so amusing that I want to share it with you all. I have no idea where I got it from or who to thank for the use of it, so if I step on somebody's copyright toes, please forgive me.

What? 3 January 2011!

2011-01-03T10:47:00.000+02:00

The title of my post says it all. I feel as if I have been on a roller-coaster ride since Friday, 24 December 2010 and it has just come to a stop for the first time. Now I must just sit still for a moment or two, to give my "insides" a chance to settle down.

First of all, before I tell about the ride, I hope that you have all had a very blessed Christmas and that during 2011 the good will outweigh the bad by tons. Thank you all for being my Blogland friends during the past year and I promise to try very hard to post more often this year. It is just that reading your posts is so much more fun than writing my own posts.

I am so happy and relieved that this particular roller-coaster ride is over that I do not want to dwell on it any more than I have to. Suffice to say that it included Hubbie's very irregular heartbeat of 138, hospitalisation for Hubby for intensive treatment for a very serious infection, visitors (house guests) 24/7 since 23 December, a visit home for Hubby over the weekend (he is not mobile and must be nursed around the clock), a geyser that flooded the ceiling, no water in the taps and just to add insult to injury, I swallowed a honey bee that stung me in my throat (luckily there was no time to have a reaction and apart from a very bad case of "tonsilitis" I survived in one piece). We were also blessed(?) with temperatures in the high 30's and low 40's (celcius) which did not help at all.

So yes, I guess I can quite honestly say that I had a very busy festive season and now I cannot wait to return to work tomorrow - for the air conditioning and the rest!

PS: Somehow cloning does not seem such a bad idea at present - I could do with two of me.

Double Trouble?

2010-11-13T16:26:00.000+02:00

Just outside my stoep, in between Hubby's workshop and our neighbour's house,

grows a creeper with beautiful big green leaves and vibrant orangy-red flowers.

I have always likes it (even though I do not even know what it is called).

Then I noticed something at the top of it

- something that did not make sense immediately and of course,

being the Nosy Parker I am, I had to investigate.

Out came the ladder (the rickety old one)

and up I went. The surprise I found at the top was well worth the effort.

Double Trouble? No, double joy.

Lest we Forget

2010-11-11T13:20:00.000+02:00

I have no idea who wrote this, but it liked it so much that i want to share it with you all.

WHY WEAR A POPPY?

Please wear a poppy," the lady said

And held one forth, but I shook my head.

Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,

And her face was old and lined with care;

But beneath the scars the years had made

There remained a smile that refused to fade.

A boy came whistling down the street,

Bouncing along on care-free feet.

His smile was full of joy and fun,

"Lady," said he, "may I have one?"

When she's pinned it on he turned to say,

"Why do we wear a poppy today?"

The lady smiled in her wistful way

And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,

And the poppy there is the symbol for

The gallant men who died in war.

And because they did, you and I are free —

That's why we wear a poppy, you see.

"I had a boy about your size,

With golden hair and big blue eyes.

He loved to play and jump and shout,

Free as a bird he would race about.

As the years went by he learned and grew

and became a man — as you will, too.

"He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,

But he'd seemed with us such a little while

When war broke out and he went away.

I still remember his face that day

When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye,

I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry.

"But the war went on and he had to stay,

And all I could do was wait and pray.

His letters told of the awful fight,

(I can see it still in my dreams at night),

With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,

And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.

"Till at last, at last, the war was won —

And that's why we wear a poppy son."

The small boy turned as if to go,

Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.

That sure did sound like an awful fight,

But your son — did he come back all right?"

A tear rolled down each faded cheek;

She shook her head, but didn't speak.

I slunk away in a sort of shame,

And if you were me you'd have done the same;

For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed,

Thought our freedom was bought — and thousands paid!

And so when we see a poppy worn,

Let us reflect on the burden borne,

By those who gave their very all

When asked to answer their country's call

That we at home in peace might live.

Then wear a poppy! Remember — and give!

Sick Leave

2010-11-10T07:02:00.000+02:00

I woke up with a pain somewhere in my tummy that drove me to the smallest throne room with exceptional haste. While sitting on the throne, I am wondering what is going on! This is not at all like the stomach I live with every day.

On the way back to bed I glance at the clock and see that it is three o'clock in the morning. "Good", I think to myself, "enough time before the alarm goes off to go back to sleep". Famous last ~~words~~ thoughts!

By wake up time I have not shut a single eye again. It has been up and down the passage to spend more time on the throne. By now it is obvious that something has upset my stomach to the degree where it has decided that it has had enough.

The predicament I find myself in now, is that I really do not feel ill enough to stay away from work, yet going to work means at least 30 minutes on a bus through the bush with no toilet facilities on the way... unless you consider a bush along the road as toilet facilities. So what to do? Go to work and risk a very embarassing visit to a bush along the way with 59 other people looking on, or staying at home and probably feeling guilty for the rest of the day because I am not really that ill? Decision made: I'll face the guilt.

Am I wasting my sick leave and my employer's time and money, or am I justified in staying home? My employment conditions allow for 2 days sick leave without a medical certificate and I know of people who regularly misuse this condition. Their argument is that it is "leave" owing to them. Is it? When is a person too ill to go to work?

Let me know your thoughts on this one. It should be interesting to see how people's views on sick leave differ, or concur.

HOPE

2010-11-04T05:20:00.000+02:00

Sometimes I think that the sky is a canvas,

and God is the painter.

If I had to name this one.

it would be "HOPE".

Hello again!

2010-10-23T08:10:00.000+02:00

Spring has sprung in the South African Bushveldt! This old wild fig tree where I wait for the bus in the mornings turned from this....

into this....

of course it happened leaf by leaf,

but that is part of nature's magic.

I know I have been absent from blogging for quite a while and I have no valid reasons, no valid excuses! I have simply been lazy. If any of you had scrapped me from your blog lists, I would not blame you, and for those who didn't: I admire your patience. It has been weeks since my last blog and I apologise.

My daughter has convinced me to read the Twilight series and I guess that is part of the reason why I have not been visiting you all regularly. I am a bit of a book addict but I am also very much a realist and stories about vampires and werewolves do not attract me at all, yet once I gave in to the pressure from her (hinting and nagging and begging) and read the first one, I could not stop. What an amazing imagination Stephenie Meyer has, not to mention her obvious talent for writing easy-to-read stories. She has certainly changed my perception of both vampires and werewolfes.... eh, sorry... shape-shifters (for the Jacob fans)... and I believe she has lifted Harry Potter from his little throne (Thank goodness!) I can now quite understand the Twilight craze that is sweeping the world. So if any of you has not read the books, give it a try.

So yes, I am hoping that with Bella, Edward and Jacob now safely behind me, I will be blogging more regularly again. Oops... I forgot... that is if my laptop stops playing up, but I think it will take a hard drive format and re-installing all software before that will happen. So please people, hold thumbs that I do not kill it in the process...

I remember....

2010-09-11T09:09:00.000+02:00

I remember well......

...the absolute horror of the evil that resides in man.

How can anyone ever forget...

...the destruction that man can bring about?

I was at work when my husband phoned me and told me to switch on the television. A plane had flown into the WTC. At that stage we thought it was a horrible accident, but of course, when the second plane hit the second tower, we knew... I remember sitting in front of the television not wanting to see or believe what I was seeing, yet unable to tear myself away from the tragedy that was being played out some 13,000 kilometers away. It could have been on my own doorstep.

Today my thoughts are once again with those who have lost loved ones in this tragedy

and also with those who have lost loved ones in its aftermath

and I can only pray that man will learn from this experience.

I want to leave this poem by a little boy who seemed to have more wisdom

than all the leaders of the world.

It is my prayer that it will find a place in your hearts.

A NEW HOPE

BY MATTIE STEPANEK

I need a hope.a new hope.

A hope that reaches for the stars, and

That does not end in violence or war.

A hope that make peace on our earth, and

That does not create evil in the world.

A hope that finds cures for all diseases, and

That does not make people hurt,

In their bodies, in their hearts

Or most of all, in their spirits.

I need a hope.a new hope,

A hope that inspires me to live, and

To make all these things happen,

So that the whole world can have

A new hope, too.

Dear Mr President - Yours faithfully, BB

2010-08-29T08:53:00.000+02:00

BB, a talented fellow blogger on Wordpress wrote this very clever poem, touching on many of the current issues in my country. The major ones being the senseless slaughter of Rhinos for their horns and the public service strike. A number of patients have died due to medical personnel striking and in education the situation has become so serious that many schools have closed down in many areas. Enough of me now, I will let BB tell the story, she does it so much better than I could ever hope to.

Dear Mr President,

My Reason For This Sad Lament

Is Yet Another Incident

Of Cruel And Murderous Intent

While Blood Of Victims Innocent

Drowns Rainbow Hopes In Crimson Taint

And Leaves Our Nation Impotent

To Be The Best This Continent

Proudly Chose To Represent:

“Ma’ Africa’s Supreme Descent”.

~ ~ ~

But Still Mr President

Though I Aim To Remain Confident

Regrettably I’m Hesitant

When It’s Pitifully Evident

That Too Often An Inhabitant

Learns To Be Disobedient

Blames Someone Else Incompetent

Or Deems It Quite Convenient

To Prove That Being Deficient

Is Rationale Sufficient -

To Steal Or Rape Or To Torment

Without A Morsel Of Repent

When Striking For A Dividend

When Healing Hands Turn Militant

When Teaching’s Main Ingredient

Is : ‘How To Shame Your Government’

When Dread Transmits A Deathening Scent

And Neither Beast Nor Man Can Vent

Their Fear That Life In This Fine Land

Is Worth Less Than A Hard-Earned Rand

Now SOMEONE Has To Comprehend

That ‘Freedom’ Is A Free Event

That Life For Each Is Heaven-Sent

And Death Is Merely Life’s Contempt

That Seemingly Staying Tolerant

Does Not Wash Blood Off Your Own Hand

~ ~ ~

Will You Be The First, Mr President?

To Make An End To This Sad Impend

For Death Kept Unvoiced Silent

Is Death Endured Twice Violent

To read more of her talented and clever writing, you can visit her over here on Wordpress. The photos are also hers.

You are in Africa!

2010-08-27T21:45:00.000+02:00

Coming in for landing at O.R. Tambo International Airport, you can easily be forgiven for believing that you are landing in any developed, First World country anywhere in the world. The vast industrial and residential developments stretching in every direction for miles on end,

the world-class road system

and the newly built Gautrain rail system contribute to this perception.

This perception will be strengthened when you walk into the arrivals hall of the airport and even more so when you leave the airport, whether by motor vehicle or train, and travel to one of the many hotels or guest houses in and around Johannesburg....

....And of course, your perceptions are quite correct. Johannesburg is, and has for many years been a truly cosmopolitan, First World city; so have Cape Town, Durban, Port Elizabeth and many other cities in South Africa. Yet, it would serve you well to remember that you are still in Africa, the Dark Continent, as it has been known over the ages. The Dark Continent, not because of the colour of the skin of her indigenous people, as some people believe, but because of the mysticism of her many cultures.

Meeting one of our many black politicians, academics, businessmen or whatever,

you can also be forgiven for believing that you are dealing with a person from any First World, developed country anywhere in the world, with modern day principles and believes, yet again, do not forget, you are in Africa, dealing with an African. He might live in a multi-million rand house in any of the many upper class residential areas around the country,

but his "home" will still be in some rural village in one of the tribal kingdoms or chiefdoms.

On Friday night he will, still dressed for the boardroom, get into his very expensive and luxurious motorcar, or board a plane, and head for home somewhere in rural South Africa. Once home, he will become again who he really is:

a proud member of one of the many African tribes, reverting back to all the tribal traditions and customs that have been part of his life since birth.

Allow me to introduce you to our President, Dr Jacob Zuma.

As President of South Africa, he spends his workday in the company of Kings and Queens, Heads of State, politicians and other people of note from all around the globe, yet when it comes to his personal life, he becomes what he truly is, a Zulu. When he married his fifth wife in January 2010, he did it in true Zulu tradition and style.

PS: I rest my case!

Moorddrift and Makapansgat

2010-08-23T18:48:00.000+02:00

Every time I visit my son in Mokopane (Potgietersrus), I travel past the dead stump of an old camel thorn tree and a small monument. This site is about 40 kilometres North of Mookgophong (Naboomspruit), situated just where the water of the Nylsvlei floodplain drains off into the Mokgalakwena River on its way to the Limpopo River much further North.

Only once have I actually stopped to look at the monument but every time I pass it, my thoughts wander to the events that started here over one and a half centuries ago.

In 1854, Hermanus Potgieter, one of the Voortrekker leaders, and his people made their laager (camp) here on the banks of the river. They had left the Cape Colony, more than a thousand kilometres to the South, when they could no longer tolerate the oppression of British rule and the violence of being forced to share land with the warring Xhosa people with whom they had nothing in common. After a year of trekking over arid land, grassy plains, many rivers and through the bush, they stopped here, maybe hoping that they have found a place to put down their roots in this beautiful and fertile land at the foot of the Waterberg Mountains.

On the other hand, Makapan, the Ndebele chief of the area, saw these strangers invading his domain and decided that they must be driven away. Makapan and his warriors attacked the laager of Hermanus and his people, as well as two other laagers nearby, and killed every man, woman and child. History has it that the babies and small children in the laager were killed by dashing their heads against the camel thorn trees and that Hermanus Potgieter himself was flayed alive. Twenty Eight trekkers were killed and the site became known as Moorddrift (Murder Ford).

Moorddrift Monument - Legend has it that this is the stump of one of two Camelthorn trees that was used to kill the six children in the laager.

(Photo by Peter A. Levey)

Other Voortrekkers on their way North came upon the carnage left by Makapan and his men. After burying their fellow trekkers, they banded together and rode against Makapan to avenge the killings. Makapan and his followers fled before them up a valley to the Northeast of what is today Mokopane, and took refuge in a gigantic cavern to escape the wrath of the avengers. This cavern was fronted by a rocky precipice and there was no way that the trekkers could get to Makapan and his people.

The beautiful Makapan's Valley where the cavern was located.

(Photo by A.B. Esterhuysen)

The trekkers then blockaded the entrance to the cavern over a period of 29 days and by the time they stormed the cavern, very few warriors were strong enough to resist the avenging trekkers. It is estimated that more than two thousand of Makapan's people died in that cavern from hunger and thirst. The skeletons and bones remained in the cave for many years and it is told that the local witchdoctors made good use of this easy source of human bones to brew strong muti (medicine)! Eventually the skeletons and bones were removed and the cavern was officially named Historic Cave, but it is still spoken of by its popular name, Makapansgat (Makapan's Cave). Some of the skulls even ended up in the Royal College of Surgeons' Museum in London.

The Moordrif monument is accessible to anybody who cares to stop along the road and visit it, but Makapansgat is not open to casual visitors and for a very good reason. In 1936 it was proclaimed a national monument, not only because of Makapan and the trekkers, but mostly because of its importance as an archaeological and paleontological site. Evidence has been found that this cave, and others in Makapan's Valley, had been inhabited for over three million years; that is from Ape-Man to Iron Age Man to Modern Man. Many skulls, fossils and artefacts of both human, animal and plant origin have been found and retrieved, and many more remain, waiting to be retrieved and investigated.

Of course, the history of Hermanus Potgieter and Makapan is very relevant and well known today, yet I cannot help but wonder what other dramas played out in this cave over the ages. After all, three million years is a long, long time.

Fait Accompli!

2010-08-22T19:39:00.001+02:00

Hubby retired in 1997, but being the person he is, there was no way that he could just settle down to a quiet and relaxing hobby. During his 13 years of retirement, he has
-bred exotic ducks
-farmed with chickens in our back yard
-owned a bycicle repair shop
-collected aquarium fish
-bred Khoi
-bred exotic birds
-worked as caretaker at the church
-worked in a TV installation and repair shop.
In between all of this, he has enclosed our front porch, and opened it up again,
he has enclosed our backyard to use it as a garage,
enclosed the carport to use as a living room (my Stoep),
Made gardens and unmade them again,
built a camping trailer and took it apart again,
....and so I can go on, and on, and on....
and I can hear some of you saying: I wish I had such an industrious Hubby"...
and all I can say is: "Be careful what you wish for".

Believe me when I say that it is not easy to live a life where you never know what you will find happening at your home when you arrive home from work. I have often felt like turning around on the doorstep and running until I can find a place of normalcy. Remember, I am seldomly consulted before the time but am always expected to be pleasantly surprised and amazed at what he has accomplished... However, I still love him dearly and he must get up to something really outragious before I can find it in myself to criticise his endeavours.

A couple of weeks ago, he phoned me at work and mentioned that he can swap our old Nissan bakkie (truck) for a caravan (trailer). (I need to mention here that he bought this bakkie because he always wanted a bakkie, but being his impulsive self, he never ensured that he could get it registered and he found out eventually that he could not, so it has been standing here gathering dust for the past two years). I was kind of busy at the time but do remember that I said it might be a good idea, thinking that we would discuss it when I got home. Surprise, surprise! When I arrived home, the deal was done. Gone was the bakkie and in its place stood the caravan - licences and registered - fait accompli!

It is an old model Impala Caravan but in beautiful condition. Seeing the advantages of having an extra room for when the hordes descend on us over long weekends and holidays, I was quite excited about it, until Hubby announced that he was planning to try it out on a road trip to Port Elizabeth (1.200 kilomtres away) in September! Now don't get me wrong, I would love to go on a road trip to PE (and quite a number of other places even further away), but we drive a 1300cc Toyota Tazz and I very much doubted whether it is a good idea to use the Tazz as a towing vehicle.

But, of course, Hubby being Hubby, insisted on us trying it out and off we went to Mokopane, just 50 kilometres away, for a weekend. We loved camping out (never mind that it was just outside my son's front garden gate yet smack in the middle of the bush in the caravan, but fortunately Hubby at last had to admit that the Tazz is a bit small for a towing vehicle. So now, what to do?

The very next week Hubby went bakkie hunting and came up with this very nice 1600cc Nissan NP200 bakkie. (Does it look familiar Joan?)

We have been talking about getting a new car for a while now as Hubby finds it increasingly difficult to get into and out of the very low seats of the Tazz and what's more, it suits our pockets.

So now, if it weren't for the monthly vehicle installments, I could retire also and we could travel the country as I have always dreamed of doing... Oh well! At least Hubby is happy with a new bakkie at last!

A Church for Africa - ZCC

2010-08-21T08:00:00.000+02:00

Sixteen months ago, I published this post about the yearly pilgrimage of the members of the ZCC to Moria City over the Easter Weekend. Since then I have received many comments on it, some as late as this morning. This just proves to me how serious the members of the ZCC is about their church and religion and it just makes me more curious about the essence of this particular church, or two churches as some of the comments insisted. However, for the sake of brevety I will speak of the ZCC

For years I have wondered about the people walkin around with a star or bird badge pinned to their shirts. I have realised for a very long time that these people can be trusted and relied on. I have also come to know them as a very peaceful people. This always made me wonder just what the doctrine of their church is. My questions about their church and believes have always been met with stoic vagueness, which of course, made me just more curious.

Recently I have met a person who has been a ZCC member all his life and he is not afraid to talk about his religion. I am learning more and more everyday and am beginning to understand why this is called and "African Church". Embedded in their believes and practices are the age old African believes and traditions. I now understand why they feel so much more comfortable with this church than with any other denomination. I now realise that if I were black, I would have been a ZCC member also.

What makes me sad though is the fact that the black people of our country had to start their own church to find their niche in the Christian community. If only the missionaries who came out to Africa had done what they were supposed to do, that is, spread the Gospel of the love and grace of Christ, this would not have been necessary. What they did though, was convert the people of Africa not only to Christianity, but they also tried to convert them to the European social order and way of life.

Once an African was converted to Christianity, the very first thing they did was give him a "Christian" name. Why? What was wrong with his African name in the first place? Then they dressed him up in European clothing and put him to work! Now I do not know about the rest of you out there, but I would not have been very happy with being told that my name, my dress and my traditions were not good enough.

I guess what I want to say with this post is that although I cannot agree with all their practices, just as I cannot agree with everything that most denominations practice, I do understand and appreciate their way of doing things. As long as salvation through The Cross is preached and the Holy Spirit is allowed to do His work, how can I judge whether they are God's people or not. After all, who amongst us knows just how high, deep or wide the Grace of God truly is.

So to my ZCC brothers and sisters in Christ: "Kghotsong! and may He make His face shine upon you."

A Mum.

2010-08-09T21:26:00.000+02:00

I recently came across this little story and I so much enjoyed it that I want to share it with everybody who has ever been a mother. A woman was asked some question in order to complete one or another official form and the following is her story.

The lady with the pen in her hand was very poised..... obviously a career woman.

‘What is your occupation?’ she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out.

‘I’m a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations.’ The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

‘Might I ask,’ said the clerk with new interest, ‘just what you do in your field?’

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply;

‘I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn’t)
in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out).
I’m working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.’

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk’s voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants — ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.

I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than ‘just another Mum.’

Motherhood! What a glorious career! Especially when there’s a title on the door.

Now I wonder if that makes me, as a grandmother, a ‘Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations’ and would a great grandmother be an ‘Executive Senior Research Associates?’

I think so!!!..... and I also think it would make aunts 'Associate Research Assistants.’

Just Nuisance

2010-07-27T19:55:00.002+02:00

I love books and I love dogs, so I was very happy when I found this little book at a street sale a couple of years ago. This is the first book ever to be published about one of my favourite legends, "an Able Seaman who Leads a Dog's Life".

Way back in 1939, Mr Chaney of Mowbray in Cape Town became the owner of an eleven month old Great Dane puppy who would go on to become a legend in his own right. This young pup, being of a very friendly nature, caused so much inconvenience with his wagging tail in the home of his previous owner, that he earned himself the name of Nuisance.

Even on their first night together, Mr Chaney realised that Nuisance was no ordinary dog. He showed nuisance around his house and in the kitchen he pushed down on the handle of the refrigerator door, opening it, and told Nuisance that if he could do the same, he could have the two pounds of mutton inside. The next morning the mutton was gone.

Shortly after Nuisance moved into the Chaney household, the household was moved to Simon's Town where Mr Chaney was put in charge of the United Services Institute. Here Nuisance found a new group of friends and soon he accompanied them everywhere, even on the train to and from Cape Town. He saw it as his personal duty to ensure that no sailor was left behind when the last train back to Simon's Town, left Cape Town station.

Of course the powers that were the then South African Railways were not happy with this huge dog travelling on their trains. The SAR personnel would often put him off the train (two or three would have to join forces to achieve this), but he would just get onto the next train that comes by. It is told that once, directly after he was put off and the train started moving to leave the station, a sailor opened a window and Nuisance, like a bullet, sailed through it back onto the train. After much complaining and many defeats suffered by SAR employees when trying to keep Nuisance off the trains, there was a threat that he would be put down if found on SAR property again.

There was no way that Mr Chaney could curb his dog's inbred wanderlust and he decided to sell Nuisance and give the money to the Speed the Planes Fund. However, by now Nuisance was known and loved by not only thousands of sailors, but also by the public of Simon's Town and Cape Town alike. His worth as a mascot and companion was well established and at the last minute, the Admiralty stepped in and Nuisance was enlisted into the Royal Navy and he became an Able Seaman quartered at Froggy Pond, 5 miles outside Simon's Town.

Thus he became Just Nuisance and his date of birth was oficially declared to be 1 April 1937. According to his enlistment papers, he was bred by a Mr Bosman of Rondebosch, Cape Town. He was brought up to the trade of a bone crusher and his religious denomination was given as "scrounger". He volunteered on 6 June 1939 and commenced his duties on 25 August of the same year. Now Able Seaman Just Nuisance could travel for free, as an enlisted man, on any of the suburban trains in and around Cape Town.

Like any other enlisted sailor, he received rations as well as a bed to call his own. Nuisance did not, like any other ordinary dog, curl up to sleep, he slept streched out, with his head on his pillow. On occassion, a visiting sailor would get into his bed when he was out late, only to be ousted without ceremony when Nuisance returned.

After a not so long, but illustrious carreer, Nusaince were discharged from the Navy on 1 January 1944. Great Danes never live to a great age and after being involved in a motorcar accident, he suffered with thrombosis. Eventually, when paralysis started setting in, it was decided that he would be put to sleep. So on 1 April 1944, on his seventh birthday, he was taken to the Simon's Town Naval Hospital where the Naval Surgeon put him to sleep.

On the following morning, at 11:30, to the sound of a gun salute and a lone bugler, Just Nuisance, wrapped in a canvas bag and covered with a white Royal Ensign, was laid to rest at Klaver Camp on top of Red Hill. He was buried with full military honours and a simple granite gravestone marked his grave.

Today, if you visit Simon's Town, you can view a statue of Nuisance on Jubilee Square and should you visit the Naval Museum, you will find a special display about him, as well as a slide show about this not-an-ordinary-dog.

Of course one post could never tell the whole story of Nuisance. If you wish to read more about him, you are invited to pay his memory a visit over here.

The Louvre of the Bushveld

2010-07-15T12:40:00.000+02:00

I know, I know! I am probably the only soul on this planet who have any interest in the early morning skies over the Springbokvlakte and Nylsvlei, but please humour me and share in my joy in the work of art that The Creator created for me again this morning.

In the Bushveldt, the clouds do not have silver linings, they are framed in pure gold.

(It is times like these that I wish I was a photographer with photographic equipment,

instead of Just I and Myself with a camera.)

Eat to Live, or Live to Eat?

2010-07-10T10:32:00.000+02:00

Living in South Africa, you cannot help being aware of the difference in eating habits amongst different cultures. Neither can you help being aware of the difference between the "Haves" and the Have Nots". This morning I visited one of my regular Blogs on Blogspot and came across a very interesting post. The photos and information is from the book Hungry Planet: What the World Eats by Peter Menzel and Faith D'Aluisio.

I will let the photos speak for themselves.

USA - $341 per week for 4 people (processed)

Germany - $500 per week for 4 people (liquid)

Mexico - @189 per week for 5 people (Fresh and Coke'ish)

Chad - $1.23 per week for 6 people (???)

Makes you think, hey?

In the Bush

2010-07-07T13:29:00.002+02:00

The street address of my workplace is: "In The Bush!" The office block where I work is surrounded by 4,000 hectares of Nature Reserve. When you look out of the window of any office, what you see is bush, veldt and far off horizons... not so with my office. When I look out my window, this is what I see.

DRAINS!

This means that I have to, every now and then, go outside to just remind myself of the beauty surrounding me. Yesterday I did this, and this is the picture that greeted me (while standing in amongst all the drains).

Typical winter lawns, ~~another drain,~~ "Karee" trees, and dry Bushveldt in the background. This picture, with the blue sky as backdrop and washed in glorius sunlight, reminded me why I love my pinpoint on Planet Earth. I could not resist this photo of the sun through the green leaves against the blue sky.

We are in midwinter, but the Bushveldt never gives up. Grow, it will grow, as this tiny bit of new life on an old branch proves.

On the way back inside, I had to pass the hated drains again.

Hey wait! What is that? Those little yellow spots next to the hated drain?

Growing right there at the edge of the hated drain... beautiful.

Moral of the story? In the Bushveldt, even drains produce beauty!

Questions

2010-07-04T07:41:00.000+02:00

Why could I not be the person other people think I am?
Why could I not be as happy as most people think I am?
Why could I not be as strong as some people think I am?
Why could I not be as wise as certain people think I am?

Why must I know myself as intimately as I do?
Why must I feel as sad as I do?
Why must I hurt as I do?
Why must I fear as I do?

Are there other people out there who ask the same questions?
Are there other people out there who laugh while their hearts break?
Are there other people out there who lead when all they want is to follow?
Are there other people out there who are what other people want them to be?

(Just a bunch of random questions on a Sunday morning while wondering about life.)

In the Shadow of the Most High

2010-06-26T12:09:00.001+02:00

I do not often blog about my faith but as most of you know, I am a committed Christian and just sometimes things happen that I simply cannot keep quiet about. So for those who have a problem with my faith and my love for my Saviour, you can stop reading right now, for this story is about the faithfulness of God and the courage of two of His children.

Maryam Rostampour and Marzieh Amirizadeh.

These two beautiful young women are Iranian Christians. On 5 March 2009, their apartments were searched by Iranian security officers, their Bibles were confiscated, as well as other items and they were arrested. Their arrests were followed by interrogations and sleep deprivation. I cannot even imagine what interrogation of Christians by Islamic security forces must be like.

Subequently they were sent to the notorius Evin Prison in Tehran where they spent much time in solitary confinement and both became very ill, never receiving decent medical attention. In October 2009 they appeared before a Revolutionary Court. The anti-state charges against them were dropped and their case was transferred to a General Court for the charges of "Propogation of Christianity" and "Apostasy".

In November 2009, they were released on bail due to pressure from various international groups and communities and sometime in May this year, they were both acquitted on all charges. On their release their comment was: "We are frail human beings with many weaknesses. The honour and glory go to God who has kept and used us, although we don’t know why He has chosen us. All the glory goes to Him."

This is their story in a nutshell and you could ask what is so special about their story, surely this kind of thing happens to Christians everyday in may countries all over the world. Yet it is a story that shook me to my core. Look at these girls. They are young and beautiful. They should be out in the world having fun as millions of other young people are doing. Yet they ended up in a feared Islamic prison for their faith.

I cannot help wondering how I would have reacted. I live in a country where religious freedom is embedded in our Constituion. I can attend a dozen or more religious gathering every day of the week without even thinking of being pursecuted, by anyone. In fact, I take religious freedom completely for granted... a given... a right. Yet these girls had to practice their faith always in the shadow of persecution. They knew that they could be arrested and prosecuted for following the Christian faith and yet they did just that. They followed their Saviour. They spread His loving grace on a daily basis and even when arrested, they refused, before the Revolutionary Court, to recant their faith.

To me these to girls are an inspiration. To me it is obvious that they live in the shadow of the Most High. I want to thank and praise God because He is so true to His Word for He speaks through the psalmist in Psalm 91 and promises:

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High

shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress:

my God; in him will I trust.

Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler,

and from the noisome pestilence.

He shall cover thee with his feathers,

and under his wings shalt thou trust:

his truth shall be thy shield and buckler."

A Bushveldt Sunrise from a Bus

2010-06-22T19:42:00.000+02:00

Sitting on the bus, traveling to work yesterday morning, I could not resist taking some photos of the sun climbing out from behind the Bushveldt horizon, hopefully to warm the day to a liveable temperature. We have had unusually cold weather over the past week or so as the condensation on the windows shows.

I am no photographer and my camera is not a photographers camera either. Yet I thought I would post these photos anyway, firstly to show you all how the sun rose over the Bushveldt on the shortest day of the year and also how very cold the shortest day of the year started for us.

This photo was taken at about 06H50.

A few minutes later...

...and again a few minutes later.

The profile in the photo belongs to a Sergeant Major who works with me and he looks very stern and serious, does'nt he? Actually, ~~once he wakes up properly~~ he is a very pleasant, humorous and naughty guy and I want to thank him for allowing me to publish him so blatantly.

I for one, am very happy that 21 June has come and gone. Now I can start looking forward to getting up in daylight again and seeing skies like this.

Roll on Summer....

Robert D. Anger

2010-06-20T22:06:00.002+02:00

"The sower laid you
Down in gentle ground
Your sower was the tree

You were bound to be
a weightlifter, yes a weightlifter
to take up the weight that set all free

You were bound to be a tree
to be made into a cross
to carry Jesus Christ, for me."

A simple little poem, written on a scrap of paper, for a Sunday school competition. I have kept it for more than 15 years and will keep it for more than 15 years longer. It is special to me. It brought me my first awareness of a special quality in a special 12 year old boy. It taught me that there was much more to this 12 year old boy, than what I ever imagined.

This 12 year old boy has grown up and is today a husband and father or two children. A seven year old daughter and a 4 month old son. When I look at him now, I marvel at the man he has become and wonder when it happened. It feels like just last week that he fitted in under my chin for a hug and now I fit in under his arm.

When he was 5 years old, he had a dream of becoming a policeman. A friend gave him a shirt with "police badges" on it and for the following weeks he wore it every second day. On the other days it was in the wash. Now he is that policeman working in a rural part of our country and loving it.

He has another dream, and that is to one day be a writer. It is not a dream he often talks about but I know it is there. At present he is still to busy growing and learning and experiencing, to sit down and work at it, but I believe that one day he will. In the mean time, he has started a blog and I am sometimes surprised at what he writes. I am surprised at the insight he shows in some of his posts. I especially enjoy the ones about his work and the people he comes into contact with.

He realised his first dream and I do believe that he will one day realise his second dream also. If you wish, you can read more about Robert D. Anger, or Bobby Danger to his friends, here and if you do, please encourage him to write more often.

Nature's Surprise and JD's Reaction

2010-06-17T13:57:00.001+02:00

South Africans, and visitors to our country, has come to expect warm, sunny winter days. Daytime temperatures usually reach into the high teens (degrees in celsius) and minus degree temperatures are only experienced during the nights and also only in certain regions of the country.

Soccer fans from all over the world came to South Africa with only the minimum winter clothes in their luggage, prepared to enjoy the famous mild South African winter. Many came with the idea of camping around the country to see and enjoy as much as possible, as economically as possible.

Yet one should never take nature for granted as our present winter weather proves. The past week has been one of the coldest in many, many years. This is what locals and soccer fans alike, woke up to in the Western Cape, Eastern Cape and Southern Cape the past three days.

A very unusual De Doorns farm schene.

(Leon Potgieter)

Jonkershoek area is usually a camper's paradise, even in winter.

(Mark Wilmot)

Is it jus my imagination or can you also see the cold

in the Hottentots-Holland Mountain area?

(Hailey Anne Melton)

Even JD has turned bear on us and decided to go into hibernation until the weather returns to normal.

He found this warm spot in the house and on trying to get him to move,

all I got from him was this very sleepy look and a very dismissive mieow...

before returning to his favoured position.

Maybe he just knows how to handle this winter,

and we don't.

LADUMA... again!

2010-06-11T18:03:00.000+02:00

Bafana Bafana celebrating the very first goal of the 2010 SWC...

and it was scored BY THEM!

The end result of the match was one goal each. Mexico is placed 17th in the world and Bafana is placed 83rd, but that did not stop them!

GO BOYS GO! LADU-U-U-U-MA!

LADUMA... at last!

2010-06-11T16:50:00.001+02:00

The opening ceremony of the SWC 2010 is over and just a few photos to share some of the excitement of the event with you.

It speaks for itself.

Energy and...

colour.

The African Dung Beetle was there...

in more than one guise.

South Africa welcomes the world home to the cradle of mankind,

Africa!

Need we ask who she supports?

...or him?

Diski and Vuvuzelas

2010-06-09T18:48:00.000+02:00

The first ever FIFA Soccer World Cup on African soil, starts this weekend and today, at noon, people all over South Africa came out in support of our team, Bafana Bafana. Bafana is the SeTswana word for a boy and by repeating the word, it translates it into "The Boys".

A street in Sandton, Gauteng, South Africa today at noon.

(Photo by Chris Botha)

Now I must admit that I have never been a Soccer enthusiast! Then again, I have never been an Any Sport enthusiast, but I must admit: Bafana Bafana has captured my attention and imagination over the last couple of weeks with 12 wins in a row! WOW! I am so proud of them, and that, coupled with the general atmosphere of Soccer excitement in the country at present, has at last also fired my own exitement over SWC 2010.

Work came to a halt and everybody poured out into the streets...

(Photo by Charl Scheepers)

Not to be outdone by the people in the cities, we here in the Bushveldt, created our own Diski and Vuvuzela moments today. The vuvuzela of course, is the twelfth player in the Bafana Bafana team (as introduced to you here) and the Diski is a dance especialy choreographed (by the people for the people) in support of Bafana Bafana. Here are a few photos to show how we do it here in the Bushveld.

A Bushveldt vuvuzela

The Diski done the Bushveldt way

I was truly a day of sun, fun and Bafana Bafana support.

A Human thing to do.

2010-06-05T21:02:00.000+02:00

Us humans in general, and this Human in particular, all too often ask the question "WHY?" and there are some "WHY?" questions that simply do not have answers.. Here are a few examples:

Why is it that doctors call what they do 'practice'?

Why isn't there mouse-flavoured cat food?

Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?

If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport the 'terminal'?

Why did Human try to drown her laptop with a cup of tea?... and with Rooibos Tea at that!

Of course there are two answers to the last question. Answer No 1 is: "The devil made me do it" and we all know that answer would be just an easy opt out and thus not acceptable. Answer No 2 is simply one word: "Stupidity!" and that one is (painful as it is) the correct one.

Yes fellow citizens of Blogland. It is official! After preaching to all and sundry the old, old, sermon about the sins of liquids on and/or over laptops, I went and did it... spilled tea all over my laptop... no excuses, just plain stupidity!

Almost two weeks later, I am back on the air (as they say in the classics) thanks to the sturdiness of my dear little Dell. It only needed a couple of days to dry out and it is as good as new... well, almost. The left hand "Ctrl" and "Shift" keys refuse to do what they are supposed to do, but apart from that, it has survived and I am back in the land of the Bloggers.

When I spilled the tea (and listen carefully now, it can happen to anyone), I immediately turned it upside down, pulled out the pluggie and took out the battery. I then left it in the upside down position overnight, but when I tried starting it the next morning, nothing happened. I arranged for Liz (my very patient with her aging parent daughter, who just happened to be travelling through Naboomspruit that day) to pick it up on her way back to Johannesburg and take it in for a quote.

When I told people who know about these things, of my little accident, figures of between three and four thousand rands to have it repaired, were bandied about. Well, my blood pressure went through the roof and my heart dropped into my shoes on hearing these impossible predictions. I phoned Hubby and he immediately contacted our insurance as even I (stupidity and all) realised that the wonderful Dell Warranty will not cover this kind of damage. He came back a little later with the news that we are only covered for R2,000 for breakages... not nearly enough to save my Dell's life!

Liz could not take it in to Dell immediately and it had to wait until Friday, thus, four days. On Friday morning, before she took it in for the quote (the quote alone would have cost me R250), clever girl that I raised her to be, she switched it on just to see what would happen... and IT BOOTED NORMALLY!

Obviously it only needed to dry out properly and both my heart and blood pressure is back where they belong... and I am back in Blogland.

A Special Weekend

2010-05-16T11:23:00.002+02:00

Joshua

I do not usually post photos of either my family or myself but this once, I found that words could not paint these pictures. The weekend o f 2 May was special. It was Joshua's blessing ceremony and afterwards we all gathered at his Grandpa and Grandma's house for a true Bushveldt braai. Here are some photo's to tell the story.

With Mom and Dad

With Granny and Great Granny

At home and content on Granpa's lap.

With Oupa and Ouma.

The next two photos were not taken on this occasion but I love them and wanted to include them.

Now you know where I get my "looks" from.

Dad and boy sharing a "peaceful moment"

Now the second reason why this weekend was special. A special person came to visit. No names, but I was so happy to see her hitting it off my my family also.

The most precious things in this life: Family and Friends!

SLEEP

2010-05-13T20:24:00.002+02:00

Anticipating the pleasure to come, I slide my cold and tired body down into the welcoming warm cacoon of soft, silky sheets enveloping my weary limbs. With voluptuous pleasure, I stretch my limbs to their fullest extent and a sigh escapes from deep within....

On my back, muscles stretched comfortably, with only the silky sheets separating my body and the downy softness of the duvet, I feel the warmth spreading over my skin and penetrating deep into my tires muscles... relaxing and restoring.

Heavy eyelids block out the images of the world and the images of my inner soul slowly appear as my thoughts drift off into the freedom of randomness. My breathing slows and my body turns on its side and curls up, snuggling deeper into the comforting warmth, without any conscious effort on my part. A nurturing nothingness descends over me as I voluntary give up the activity of day to the total absence of sound and movement that is sleep.

More years than I care to remember ago, I learned a part of the poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Tayler Coleridge, and the one verse that stayed with me through all the years, is this one:

"Oh sleep, it is a gentle thing,
beloved from pole to pole,
to Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
that slid into my soul."
(It could have been written specifically for me.)

I love sleep. Everything about it. The drifting off and escaping from everyday stresses. The floating on nothingness of sleep itself. The freedom of my subconscious to entertain me on wonderful dramas compiled from bits and pieces of my day... (not that I often remember any of these dreams in the mornings.) I even like the slow dawning of consciousness when waking up out of a deep, restful sleep... that moment of realising I have been granted another day... realising I feel new energy flowing through my being. Wonderful!

As a small girl I used to love thunderstorms. I was never afraid of the lightning. On such nights I would lay curled up in my warm and safe bed, watching the flickering patterns of the lightning through my rain-lashed window... loosing myself in the roll off the thunder over the sky and veldt... and I would experience the same feelings of security, comfort and well-being that I still encounter today when I lay in my bed with sleep slowly sliding into my soul.

RESPECT

2010-05-10T21:27:00.001+02:00

Ralph Waldo Emerson was a poet, philosopher and essayist in the 19th century in America. I have never completely agreed with his teachings, yet one of his statements have stuck in my mind ever since I first read it. It says:  “Men are respectable only as they respect” . This is not a well-known quote, yet I find it to be one of the most profound quotes I have ever learned.
I have always believed that the most solid cornerstone of any relationship is respect. A relationship built on respect is not easily shaken. I would even go as far as to say that respect is more important in marriage than love. It is true that marriage starts out based on love, but what makes it last, long past the sell by date of the sweaty palms and weak knees, is the respect for one another, built up over a period of time.

In the military, where I work, respect is crucial.  One of the very first things that is drummed into new recruits, is to respect their seniors . In fact, they are taught that even if they cannot respect the person in the uniform, they still have to respect the uniform. Unfortunately far too many of the persons in the uniform depends solely on the uniform earning them respect and does nothing to earn it themselves. This is not at all the kind of respect I am referring to. This kind of respect is demanded and invariably, this respect is soon replaced by contempt..

True respect is never demanded, it is always earned. It is also not something that happens in a day or two. It comes with time and it grows stronger with time.  It does not mean that the other person must be perfect, it only means that the other person must have certain qualities that you can believe in and trust upon. For the other person to have such qualities, he must firstly have respect for himself.

It is easy to respect someone with self-respect. A person who respects himself will act with integrity. He will not behave in any manner to embarass himself, or discredit himself, or in a manner not true to himself... and and I have found that such persons usually are very modest, no matter their material or social standing.

It is important to know that having respect for a person, does not always mean that you agree with what he says, what he does or even what he thinks. Respect simply means that you accept him as an equal human being with admirable qualities and you treat him as such, even when you differ from him. Let me explain.

In our country we have different ethnic groups and even more cultures. The manner in which marriages and funerals (two major events in all the cultures) are conducted, varies greatly from one group to the next. When I am invited to an Indian wedding, I conform to the conventions of the Indian culture and when I attend an African funeral, I conform to the traditions followed during an African funeral. Both the Indian wedding and the African funeral differs completely from my own European culture, but because I recognise the right of both the Indian and African community to their traditions and cultures, I respect them.

I opine that respect is essential to keeping this world civilised. Without respect, there would be no longer any reason to consider the next man or his life. Just stop for a moment and think: Where would that leave us?

It saddens and frightens me to see how respect is slowly (and maybe not so slowly) vanishing in this technological age. Looking at social pages like Facebook on the internet, or Mixit on cellphones, I wonder where respect has gone. The anonymity of the persons on the other side of the satelite signal seems to nulify the necessity for respect or even good manners.

Is technology maybe the beginning of the end for respect? After all, it is mostly the young people of today, thus the leaders of tomorrow, who spends hours socialising anonymously over satelite signals.

7 Wonders of the World

2010-04-18T21:14:00.000+02:00

Just a quicky, borrowed from someone else, before I go to bed.

Enjoy your week!

Mighty Men Conference

2010-04-17T20:25:00.001+02:00

This is a photo of 200 000 men worshipping and praising God and listening to Angus Buchan during the 2009 Mighty Men Conference on the farm Shalom, outside Greytown in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa.

In 1978 Angus Buchan, had to sell his farm in Zambia due to political unrest. He sold his farm for whatever he could get for it and moved down to South Africa. He bought a farm in KwaZulu-Natal, outside the little town named Greytown, and because of the ridiculously low price he received for his Zambian farm, he could not afford to build a house for his pregnant wife and three children. They lived in a caravan for several months.

Angus, of Scottish descent and fiery character, often clashed with his Zulu farmworkers, especially with Simeon Benghu, his foreman. However, all this changed when he accepted Jesus as his Saviour and decided to to trust God for everything. Today, Simeon and Angus are brother in Christ and closer than any natural brothers could be. His story can be read in the book "Faith like Potatoes" (also made into a movie), or over here for a short biography. Miracle upon miracle occurred in his life and he decided to start telling people about the wonderful change that Jesus made in his life and the rest is history. Today he is a well-known evangelist in, and beyond the borders of South Africa.

In 2004, he held the first Mighty Men Conference on his farm Shalom. Over the years this conference has grown bigger every year and for the last three years, the farms of neighbours were also involved in housing and catering for those attending the conference.

This meant that none of the farmers involved, could plant crops. This year, will see the last MMC on Shalom and neighbouring farms. From next year on, the conference will be held in different locations in all the provinces, firstly to make it more accesable for more men and secondly, to give the farmers in his neighbourhood a chance to grow their crops again.

As I sit here, typing this post, in excess of 250 000 men are gathered on Shalom for the last time. Last year, Hubby and our son, attended the conference and here are a few photos of their experience.

The roads were rough,

and ablutions crude,

yet they came from near and far

to celebrate and share...

he brightness and warmth of God's love and grace.

PS: Isn't our God amazing. I wonder if Angus, back in 1987, could even imagine what God had planned for him.

Time slips by unnoticed... continued

2010-04-16T19:32:00.001+02:00

Yes, something has changed. The flowers in the wheelbarrow is gone. Proof that Summer 2009/2010 is over. It feels like just last week when I showed you here how the busy bees were pollenating the Lychee blossoms.

Now the Lychees have come and gone and so has Summer.

These beautiful orange blossoms on my one and only orange tree, turned into these little oranges...

and produced these unusual but delicious oranges.

Fun times were had with family and friends during sunny days...

and warm evenings.

The Bushveldt blessed us with much rain...

and beautiful, lush scenery.

Now it is over until the cycle will start all over next Spring.

Yet, this simple but beautiful little scene still meets my eye every time I look up from my laptop

and gaze out my backdoor.

Not even Autumn or Winter gets the Bushveldt down.

PS: You can read more about our winters here.

...and time slips by unnoticed.

2010-04-14T19:49:00.001+02:00

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying:

And this same flower that smiles today

To-morrow will be dying

(Robert Herrick)

On my way to work this morning,

I realised that something has changed.

See it?

Helloo... anybody there?

2010-04-10T12:42:00.001+02:00

Just wondering if you are all still out there! I am here, but only just -lol. I feel as if I've spent the past two weeks of my live on a rollercoaster

Up, up, up

and then

d-o-o-o-wn

and

u-u-up

followed by a

loop-the-loop...

but at last the ride is over and it is weekend. WOW!

Let us start with the NEW BOSS. Talk about ADHD!... and he has exercised it for 45 years so he is an expert at it... and although he leaves me exhausted at the end of every day, I love it! I have always enjoyed a challenge and for the first time in many years, I am once again challenged every day, just to keep up with him.

Up till now we have always had a white Officer Commanding but our new OC is a black man with many years experience and suddenly our people cannot cry "racism" whenever they are not happy with the OC's decisions or actions and the difference is already showing after only two weeks. I know it is early days yet, but I am hoping that he will continue in the way he started... and please do not get the wrong impression, he is very strict in such an easy, amiable way that people do not seem to mind. Now I just have to find the energy to keep up with my new ADHD boss.

Then there is the political chaos going on in our country at present. On the one hand you have the very angry rightwing AWB supporters who are ready to take up arms against the black man in support of their leader who was murdered last Saturday and on the other hand you have the very revolutionary leftwing ANCYL supporters who are ready to take up arms against the white man in support of their leader who is currently on a mission to break down all the good that has been achieved towards nation building over the past 15 years. The really scary bit in this situation is the fact that the government does not seem willing to take action against either of the two groups to defuse the situation.

Somebody should tell these two what Ghandi said: An eye for an eye makes everybody blind".

The URTI that I had last weekend turned into full-blown Bronchitis and thank goodness for antibiotics and cough syrup! At last I can breathe again and after much practice my cough is much better. In short, I am at last on my way to health again.

Joshua is now two months old, is 61cm tall and has almost doubled his birth weight. What a delight he is. Spending time playing with, and loving him, balances out all the bad of the past two weeks. Isn't he just a perfect Angel?

I think I will spend part of my weekend just snoozing... maybe then I will have the strength and energy to face my ADHD kid at work on Monday!

The end of a not so perfect weekend.

2010-04-05T21:24:00.000+02:00

Easter weekend has come an gone once more. Celebrating this major Christian festival is always special. For me it is a time to look inward and renew my commitment to the Christ who gave His all, for me who owed it all.

Unfortunately, this weekend also brings tragedy every year. Every year hundreds die on our roads and many more are injured. This year our Deputy Minister of Health was one of the victims, but that was not the major shock of the weekend. On Saturday, Eugene Terre'blanche, the leader of the AWB, an Afrikaner far-right resistance movement, was murdered by two blacks (21 and 15 years old respectively) on his farm outside Ventersdorp. This could have severe consequences for our country. Feelings amongst Afrikaners are running hot after Julius Malema, the leader of the ANC Youth League has started singing struggle songs containing the words "kill the farmer" whenever he appears on public platforms. Keep in mind that approximately 1 800 people have been killed in farm attacks since 1994 in our country and the Government refuses to take any action to stop the killings or Malema singing his songs. This murder could not have come at a worse time.

On the home front, my weekend was not perfect either. I woke up on Thursday morning with a sore throat and by Friday morning it had developed into fulblown URTI. The kids were home, meaning my household grew from 2 people to 7 who slept over and to 12 during the daytime. I usually love this. I love having them together and around me, but this year I was feeling like a washed out dishcloth most of the time and just could not cope with all the "life" around me. By yesterday afternoon, when the last left, I was as happy to see them go as I was to see them arrive. Maybe we should do the whole Easter Weekend thing over once the cold has gone... or maybe not!

One of the highlights, or maybe the hightlight of the weekend was having two grandchildren with me for the first time.

It was the first time that Rozel (7years) met her brand new brother Joshua (7 weeks) and she will be spending the rest of the week with him. They are both beautiful and I have to agree with whoever said that grandchildren is God's reward to us for not killing our own children (lol).

"IT IS FINISHED"

2010-04-02T06:32:00.000+02:00

There's a line that is drawn through the ages

On that line stands an old rugged cross

On that cross, a battle is raging

To gain a man's soul or it's loss

On one side, march the forces of evil

All the demons, all the devils of hell

On the other, the angels of glory

And they meet on Golgotha's hill

The earth shakes with the force of the conflict

And the sun refuses to shine

For there hangs God's son, in the balance

And then through the darkness he cries

It is finished, the battle is over

It is finished, there'll be no more war

It is finished, the end of the conflict

It is finished and Jesus is Lord

Yet in my heart, the battle was still raging

Not all prisoners of war had come home

These were battlefields of my own making

I didn't know that the war had been won

Oh, but then I heard the king of the ages

Had fought all the battles for me

And that victory was mine for the claiming

And now praise his name, I am free!

(Bill and Gloria)

My prayer for each of you who reads this, is to realise that the battle is won and the victory is yours to claim so that you can also say:

PRAISE HIS NAME, I AM FREE!

Happy Easter

All good things......

2010-03-28T20:17:00.000+02:00

All good things come to those who wait.. or so the saying goes. Well I have been waiting, and guessing, and waiting, and guessing, for 8 months now, but at last, tomorrow the wait will be over and I will know.

At the end of July last year, our Officer Commanding retired without a new one being appointed. Originally the date for a new appointment was set for October, but it was moved to December and then we were promised before the end of January and at last, at the end of March, the powers that be, appointed somebody.

Who the somebody is, is also a big secret (only three people on our unit knows, but even that is a secret) so I am expecting a huge surprise...

So, after closing the last chapter 8 months ago, I can start writing the new one tomorrow. I just hope that the saying is true and that all the waiting brings something really GOOD.

WOW! An Award for me?

2010-03-23T19:24:00.000+02:00

Janis from Just Breath Janis suprised my socks clean off my feet with this very sweet award.

THANK YOU JANIS... YOU'VE MADE MY WEEK!

I have to tell 10 things about me and I am not sure I have even ten things to tell, but to honour the compliment that Janis paid me, here goes:

1. I am a white,

2. Afrikaans speaking,

3. Christian,

4. South African,

5. wife of one husband,

6. mother of three children,

7. grandmother of two grandchildren,

8. secretary to zero boss (at present),

9. very grateful,

10. mediocre blogger.

There you have me in a nutshell.

Now for the really fun part. I have to pass this award on to 10 other bloggers, so once again, here goes!

1. Sandy at Aging Disgracefully for her delightful outlook on life.

2. Argent at Delusions of Adequacy especially for giving us Harold on the Brightside.

3. Carmen at Carmen's Chronicles for her lovely poetry and travel tales.

4. Arley at The Everyday Life of a Mother, Teacher and Wife for being such a sweet Superwoman mother to my Blogland grandchildren)

5. Jo at Majority of Two for being the delighful lady I would love to be.

6. Desi at Being Desi for being my young breath of fresh air.

7. Gaelyn at Geogypsy for showing me the wonders of the Grand Canyon.

8. Justin at Viewtiful Justin for just being Justin.

9. Leilani at Naialani for keeping my dreams of one day visiting an excotic island alive.

10. Joan at SA Photographs for being a wonderful photographer and brand new friend (I hope).

Oh dear, ten awards to give away is not nearly enough!

Father of a Nation?

2010-03-21T20:03:00.000+02:00

It is often percieved that President of a nation is the father of that nation, but I do wish that our President would not take it so literally for it seems as if he is attempting to father his own nation.
Polygamy has always been acceptable in the Zulu culture. As I understand it, this is a practice that stems from ages ago when a man needed to have many wives and children to look after him, his home, his cattle and his fields. It was practical and good. However, I cannot avoid wondering whether it is still practical and good in the twenty first century... especially when it is practiced by the President of a country where poverty, unemployment and HIV/AIDS is of the highest in the world and where the taxpayer have to foot his bills.

The happy bride and groom at their wedding

Monday, 04 January 2010 was a very important day for our President, Mr Jacob Gedleyihlekisa Zuma. This was his wedding day… his fifth wedding day! Not unusual you might say, after all, Elizabeth Taylor was married eight times... yes, but only to one husband at a time. Our Mr Zuma is currently married to three wives, divorced from one, the widower of one, is engaged to two more women and has two girlfriends who are known to the media. He is the father of at least It is certain that he is the father of 15 children, however it is strongly suspected that the total could be as high as 20 and who knows what might surface in future.

Mr Zuma married his first wife, Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma in 1972. They had four children together, namely Gugulethu (1984), Msholozi (1985), Thuli (1988) and Thuthukile (1990). They were divorced in 1998.

In 1973 he married Gertrude Sizakele Khumalo and no children were born from this marriage. Five children were born from his marriage to Kate Mantho in 1976: Saady (1980), twins Duduzile and Duduzane (1982), Phumzile (1988) and Vusi in 1993. Kate committed suicide in 2000.

After the birth of their two children, Thandisiwe in 2002, and Sinqobile in 2006, Mr Zuma married Nompumelelo Ntuli in 2008. In 2007, Thobeka Madiba gave birth to their baby in 2007 and he married her on 4 January 2010.

However, the story does not end here. He is also engaged to Gloria Bongi Ngema, and their child, Sinqumo was born in 2006. It has also been reported previously that he paid 10 cattle as lobola for Swazi Princess Sebentile Dlamini in 2002.

Then we get to the girlfriends. There are two that he publicly recognise, Minah Shongwe, mother of his son Edward and the mother of his youngest child, Sonono Khoza... and I sincerely hope that none of the rumours about Jabulile, Bridget and another set of twins (allegedly also fathered by him) are true.

In this country, the women, children and romantic escapades of our President has become a source of embarrassment and satire, not only amongst the opposition but also amongst his supporters. It has recently been revealed in Parliament that the State spends more than R15,000.000 per year in support of his wives and their activities. In a country where people are dying due to poverty, R15 million is a lot of money.

When you look at the President's lifestyle, one cannot help but doubt his sense of responsibility towards his country and her people. I will probably be blamed for looking at his situation from a white, western and racist point of view, but so be it. If something does not make sense, it just does not make sense, and this situation certainly makes no sense.

WHY GOD CREATED CHILDREN

2010-03-19T05:36:00.000+02:00

Just a quicky to cheer up your day!

To those of us who have children in our lives, whether they are our own, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, or students, here is something to make you chuckle.

Whenever your children are out of control, you can take comfort from the thought that even God's omnipotence did not extend to His own children.

After creating heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve... and the first thing he said was

"DON'T! "

"Don't what? " Adam replied.

"Don't eat the forbidden fruit." God said.

"Forbidden fruit? We have forbidden fruit? Hey Eve..we have forbidden fruit! "

"No Way! "

"Yes way! "

"Do NOT eat the fruit! " said God.

"Why ? "

"Because I am your Father and I said so! " God replied, wondering why He hadn't stopped creation after making the elephants.

A few minutes later, God saw His children having an apple break and He was ticked!

"Didn't I tell you not to eat the fruit? " God asked.

"Uh huh," Adam replied, digging his big toe into the dirt.

"Then why did you? " asked the Father.

"I don't know," said Eve, peeking out from behind her bangs.

"She started it! " Adam said.

"Did not! "

"Did too! "

"DID NOT! "

Having had it with the two of them, God's punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own.

Thus the pattern was set and it has never changed.

BUT THERE IS REASSURANCE IN THE STORY!

If you have persistently and lovingly tried to give children wisdom and they haven't taken it, don't be hard on yourself. If God had trouble raising children, what makes you think it would be a piece of cake for you?

THINGS TO THINK ABOUT!

1. You spend the first two years of their life teaching them to walk and talk. Then you spend the next sixteen telling them to sit down and shut up.

2. Grandchildren are God's reward for not killing your own children.

3. Mothers of teens now know why some animals eat their young.

4. Children seldom misquote you. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said.

5. The main purpose of holding children's parties is to remind yourself that there are children more awful than your own.

6. We childproofed our homes, but they are still getting in.

ADVICE FOR THE DAY:

IF YOU ! HAVE A LOT OF TENSION

AND YOU GET A HEADACHE,

DO WHAT IT SAYS

ON THE ASPIRIN BOTTLE:

"TAKE TWO ASPIRIN"

AND "KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN"!!!!!

World Cup 2010 Vuvuzela Style

2010-03-18T15:14:00.001+02:00

When the world turns up on our shores for the 2010 World Cup, there will be many more things to experience and enjoy than just soccer. South Africa is a country of beautiful natural scenery, amazing wildlife, wonderful holiday destinations, a rich diversity of cultures and languages, entertainement for all tastes, friendly citizens and

THE VUVUZELA!

(Photo borrowed from http://www.boogieblast.co.za/vuvuzela.htm#beadedvuvu)

On this same site you will learn that the vuvuzela have many purposes, such as

Cricket bat.

Hearing Aid.

Petrol funnel.
Water sprayer. (force trumpet side down into water)
Drinking funnel. Nuff said.
4G mobile communication
Walking stick,
Light saber. (Just insert a torch) as seen on Starwars….
and/or
Jousting Stick (simply insert one into another.)

However, the true purpose of it is to encourage your soccer team. Just blow on it (easier said than done) and not only your team, but everybody in a radius of at least a kilometre, will know that you are there to support them!

Not all vuvuzelas are as beautifully decorated as the beaded one above, but they all make the same

ear-splitting,

god-awful

cacophonous

noise imaginable. It was requested that vuvuzelas be banned from the World Cup matches but the request was denied and I am glad it was because the vuvuzela is the one thing that will make World Cup 2010 a truly African event.

Granted, some overseas visitors might not like the Africa they will experience through the vuvuzela, but at least it will be more real than the quixotic picture that they have of life in Africa. As we say here in Africa: "Africa is not for cissies" and I am sure that after one match, with 20,000 vuvuzelas blowing in their ears, they will know why we say that.

A very clever young man over here, drew up the following funny, but also practical, set of rules.

1. Never blow a vuvuzela in an enclosed space. A properly blown vuvuzela has the same effect on the ears as a car bomb exploding next to you. While the noise adds to the primal energy vital to football stadiums everywhere, blowing a vuvuzela in a bus, car, your office, your home, a restaurant, the hospital waiting room and the local pub is not nice for everyone else. Remember, the sound comes out of the end that is pointing away from you, but which is aimed at everyone else. So while your ears may not ache in protest at your strident display of patriotism, everyone else’s will.

2. Blowing a vuvuzela requires a lot of effort. Given the nature of the instrument – wind – quite a lot of sputum accumulates in it after a particularly exciting match; worth bearing in mind if you are:

a. Going to lend your vuvuzela to someone else;

b. Borrowing someone else’s vuvuzela;

c. Planning to perform an emergency tracheotomy.

3. Point 3 follows on closely from Point 2. Unlike Antonio Stradivari’s violin, which should only be used as a violin, the vuvuzela doubles as a drinking funnel – Stradivari must be kicking himself for that oversight. Given Point 2, it is wise to rinse out your vuvuzela before putting it to use in this capacity. Furthermore, as a courtesy to other people, please wash out your vuvuzela before you take it to the next game. Sitting next to someone who not only makes the noise of an inebriated yak, but also smells like one is not anyone’s idea of a good day out.

4. Much like a Stradivari, the vuvuzela is a musical instrument and not a traditional weapon. When tempers fray during a football game, remember; blow the vuvuzela and let the security marshals resolve the fracas.

5. You are not a drum majorette, and even if you are, the vuvuzela is a not a baton.

6. While vuvuzelas will be a dime-a-dozen during the 2010 FIFA World Cup™, do not throw yours in a fit of pique. The unfortunate on who your vuvu lands is unlikely to take kindly to a clout on the head and may well ignore Point 4. Having now provided him/her with a weapon, you could struggle to explain the finer points of care for musical instruments while he/she vents his/her displeasure at being brained by yours. .

7. The atmosphere is a vast open space filled with 78% nitrogen and 21% oxygen, neither of which objects to the sound of your frantic blowing. The Earth is also vast, but in and around football stadiums during the World Cup the Earth is likely to be populated with football fans who may object to having their carefully coiffed hair being blown back by your enthusiasm. In short; blow up, not down.

8. A minimum of 90 minutes of football can be tiring at the best of times, but when coupled with the lung-busting efforts of playing your vuvu, it can be downright exhausting. However, no matter how tired you are and how inviting the shoulder of the person in front of you looks, never, I repeat, never give in to the temptation to rest your vuvuzela on some unsuspecting’s shoulder and then blow vigorously. The sensation doesn’t demand a repeat performance and genuinely feels like someone is trying to hammer a large aubergine into your ear hole.

Let's hope all the vuvuzela blowers, read and abide by these rules.

Afrikaans in Crisis?

2010-03-07T21:05:00.000+02:00

"As ek droom dan droom ek in my taal,

en as ek saans

voor ek gaan slaap

met my God praat,

dan praat ek in my taal."

Chris Chameleon, one of my favourite Afrikaans singers, sings this in one of his songs and freely translated it reads: "When I dream, I dream in my own language, and when I speak to my God at night, before I go to sleep, I speak in my own language". This is also true of me.

Afrikaans is my mother tongue. It is the language I think in, I dream in, I pray in. I get excited and angry in Afrikaans... and I mourn in Afrikaans. No matter how much I enjoy other languages, Afrikaans is the language I return to always, when in need of comfort or security.

Over the last couple of years, according to the prophets of doom, Afrikaans as a language has been in crisis. They make this claim on the basis that Afrikaans is no longer one of only two official languages, but one of eleven. I do not agree with them. To me Afrikaans is not in crisis... indeed, it is growing like never before.

One of the areas where it had phenomenal growth is in music. Kurt Darren, probably the biggest Afrikaans music seller at present, own a game farm about 15 kilometres from my home. On 19 February this year, he turned 40, and decided to have a music festival on this farm to celebrate this milestone birthday. Fifteen thousand tickets were made available and it was promised that there will also be tickets available for sale at the gate.

Fifteen thousand people attending a festival, roughly 200 kilometres from the city, in the middle of beyond, out in the bush, for only a few hours? No way! If they get 10 000 they would be lucky... or so everybody thought!

When the town started filling up on the morning of Saturday, 20 February, it was not unusual. After all, Naboomspruit is a popular weekend escape for the people from Gauteng and with the Kurt Darren birthday party happening in the afternoon and evening, nobody thought it strange.

We arrived at the venue at about three o'clock and this is the scene that greeted us.

A huge stage with screens and already many people relaxing and having fun. (Further back from the stage there was another huge screen.) This was 4 hours before the actual show started. By the start of the show, the entire area was filled with happy people and there was still a 10 kilometre queue of cars waiting to gain entrance!

The expected crowd of 15 000 people in the end grew to a crown of 25+ thousand people. The really amazing thing about this was the attitude of this huge crown. Strangers became instant friends to joke with, jump with, shout with and dance with... all united in their love of Afrikaans music.

So you decide for yourself. Is Afrikaans in crisis? Personally I think NOT!

Even though the quality of the photo is very poor, I could not resist!

Theuns Jordaan, Bok van Blerk and Kurt Darren.

Meeting Eye to Eye

2010-03-05T21:56:00.000+02:00

In Blogland we meet many people. We come to know much about them and their lives. We become quite fond of some of them and we enjoy them tremendously. Yet, I have come to realise that we do not know them, we only know about them, and we are not fond of them, we become fond of an image of them... and I would love to actually get to know them personally... to look them in the eye and hear their voices because then I could call them friends.

So, when I read that Gaelyn from http://geogypsy.blogspot.com/ is coming to South Africa I was very excited. At last it would be possible to meet this very interesting person who spends her life as a park ranger at the Grand Canyon and posts the most delightful photo's of her environment. Despite my aversion to driving distances, traffic and the city in general, I decided that it would be worth all of that to meet her and a lunch date was set up compliments of Joan from http://saphotographs.blogspot.com/.

On Wednesday morning I was up bright and early, much too excited to sleep in even though I did not have to go to work. Out came my best pair of jeans and a light, bright shirt... even some foundation, mascara and lipstick... and I was dressed and ready to roll hours early. Just as well, because it gave me time to drive the 160 km to Pretoria in a relaxed mood and pick up a new shirt for hubby and a birthday gift for Jo-Anne before it was time for lunch.

(I must admit, not being a very social human bean, I was a bit anxious about meeting three new people all at once. I guess the introvert in me was hammering on the door of the closet to get out...)

Joan was picking Gaelyn up from the airport and they arrived at the Spur Steak Ranch in the Kolonade Shopping Centre just at the same time as I arrived - perfect timing. My very first impression of Gaelyn on meeting her was: "You are so little!" ... after all she did go for all those long, long hikes all over America, carting a packpack along for days on end... and the second was: What a lovely smile she has.

Joan was my second surprise for the day. I have known about her blog for some time from her comments on Geogypsy, but I have never really been a follower. Such a warm and interesting person and I have been missing out on her blog all this time... it is now rectified. Did I mention that she is a tour guide in the Kruger National Park... she was the first female ever to be appointed! Anything you want to know about bugs? Speak to her, she knows them all (chuckle).

Soon Eleanor, from http://thatchwick.blogspot.com/ arrived. Another blogger that I have know about for some time, but have never followed. She lives in the most adorable thatchroofed house and that is where her blog gets it's name from. Here are the four of us getting to know one another a little bit. (Smile for the birdie!)

Left to right: Eleanor, Anne, Joan and Gaelyn

We visited for about two hours and it was much too short, but alas, Eleanor had to return to work, I had to drive back to Naboom and Gaelyn and Joan had South Africa waiting to be explored.

It was such a pleasure meeting you ladies and Gaelyn, I hope that our country and your visit will be everything you dreamed about and more.

PS: I was right! Meeting these three ladies was well worth it!

Team Hoyt

2010-03-01T13:37:00.000+02:00

There is a saying that God knows who to give handicapped children to. I believe this to be true. I am blessed with five healthy and intelligent offspring: three children and two grandchildren (well Joshua is only 19 days old but his grandmother can already see the superior intelligence in his eyes - lol) and I honestly do not know how, or even if, I would have coped with a handicapped child. I can only admire those parents with physically or mentally challenged children who continue cherishing and nurturing them year after year.

Such are the parents of Rick Hoyt. Rick was born on 10 January 1962 to Dick and Judy Hoyt. Rick suffered severe brain injuries during his birth that left him with cerebral palsy and unable to speak. The doctors advised his parents to have him institutionalised when he was 9 months old, but they refused to send their son away. They soon realised that there was nothing wrong with his intellect an his mother started teaching him the alphabet.

At the age of 12, Rick learned to use a special computer to communicate, by using movements from his head. His first "spoken" words on the computer were "Go Bruins!" and his parents realised that he loves sports. When he asked his father to help him to take part in a 5 mile run to raise funds for a young, injured sportsman, his father agreed and so started "Team Hoyt".

Dick and Rick compete together in marathons and triathlons. When they started, Dick was already 40 years old and 33 years later, they are still going. for the marathons and the running leg in the triathlons, Dick pushes Rick in a specially built wheelchair. When cycling, Dick uses a specially built bicycle and for swimming Dick pulls Rick in an inflatable boat, behind him.

Rick also attended Boston University after completing his school carreer and earned a college degree in special education. Dick suffered a heart attack in 2003 but recovered and is back in Team Hoyt.

I could not possibly pen down all the achievements of this father and son in one post. Their story is told on various sites, but the best one I could find was here. It is truly an inspiration to read about the sheer love and dedication of these parents to their child and his own determination to achieve the most he can. Please visit their site and read about them - you will not be sorry.

Blogger Exercises

2010-02-17T12:46:00.000+02:00

This was published on http://meermin.wordpress.com/ this morning and it was too good to not pass on. Hope you enjoy!

Have happy Wednesday!

A Sacred Moment

2010-02-10T11:05:00.004+02:00

I held him in my arms in wonder, and looked at himin awe. Son of my son, This miracle of perfect new life... He opened his mystical baby eyes and looked into my own with profound innocence and trust and a silent covenant of abiding love and loyalty was formed. A sacred moment.

He was born at 14h17 on Tuesday, 9 February 2010

with a birth weight of 3,6 kg.

"Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

A Cheat Post

2010-02-08T11:04:00.000+02:00

No time yet to write a proper post so allow me to cheat once again. This is a slightly cynical view of South Africa, yet very amusing.You know you are South African when…

1. You produce a R100 note instead of your driver’s licence when stopped by a traffic officer
2. You can do your monthly shopping on the pavement
3. You have to hire a security guard whenever you park your car
4. You can count the national soccer team's scores with no fingers
5. To get free electricity you have to pay a connection fee of R750
6. Hijacking cars is a profession
7. Defecating in a garden can win you R1-million
8. You can pay your tuition fees by holding up a sign at a traffic light
9. The petrol in your tank may be worth more than your car
10. More people vote in a local reality TV show than in a local election
11. People have the most wonderful names: Christmas, Goodwill, Pretty, Wednesday, Blessing, Brilliant, Gift, Precious, Innocence, Samsung and Airtime.
12. “Now now” can mean anything from a minute to a month!
13. You continue to wait after a traffic light has turned to green to make way for taxis travelling in the opposite direction.
14. Travelling at 120 km/h you’re the slowest vehicle on the highway
15. You’re genuinely and pleasantly surprised whenever you find your car parked where you left it.
16. A bullet train is being introduced but we can’t fix potholes
17. The last time you visited the coast you paid more in speeding fines and toll fees than you did for the entire holiday
18. You paint your cars registration on the roof
19. Half your mail is guaranteed to reach its destination
20. You have to take your own linen with you if you are admitted to a government hospital
21. You dial a toll free number and nobody answers
22. You have to prove that you don’t need a loan to get one
23. Prisoners go on strike.
24. You don’t stop at a red traffic light, in case somebody hijacks your car.
25. You consider it a good month if you only get mugged once.
26. Rwandan refugees start leaving the country because the crime rate is too high.
27. When 2 Afrikaans TV programs are separated by a Xhosa announcement of the following Afrikaans program, and a Pedi ad.
28. The employees DANCE in front of the building to show how unhappy they are.
29. The SABC advertises and shows highlights of the program you just finished viewing.
30. You get cold easily. Anything below 16 degrees Celsius is Arctic weather.
31. You call a bathing suit a “swimming costume”.
32. You stop at robots, not traffic lights.
33. You know what Rooibos Tea is, even if you’ve never had any.
34. You can sing your national anthem in four languages, and you have no idea what it means in any of them.
35. You know someone who knows someone who has met Nelson Mandela.
36. You go to “braais” (barbecues) regularly, where you eat boerewors (long meaty sausage-type thing) and swim, sometimes simultaneously.
37. You have a gear lock for your car.
38. You’ve never seen snow in real life.
39. You know that there’s nothing to do in the Free State.
40. You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other South Africans because you know its true.

If any of the above does not make sense, please ask and I will be happy to explain. I think some of them are universal but many of them are definitely unique to our country.

Source

My Life at the Moment

2010-02-03T22:05:00.000+02:00

Life is good
Life is hectic
Life is expectation
Life is exciting

Last year in March I wrote a post (here) about this special person in my life and once again she has given me reason to post about her. I am very proud of her as she has once again proven that she is a survivor par exellance. She heard yesterday that she passed her Events Management course.  This in spite of her being dislexic, her doing the course in English (her second language), her doing it through correspondence with no student councillor ever being available and her doing a theology course at the same time.  She has once again proven that she can survive anything life throws her way. Well done Girl!

Hubby turns 66 on Saturday and our very good friends (of 20 years) is coming to visit for the weekend. We have not seen them for ages and are very happy to have them for the weekend.  We are having a little get-together to celebrate the birthday boy on Saturday night and all the preparations must be made without upsetting the normal daily doings. On Saturday morning we have a Gideons function that must be arranged and attended. The books of our Body Corporate must be prepared for the auditor and the registration for my new maid must be done at the Department of Labour. With all this happening this week, it is a busy, busy, busy week.

My long-awaited, brand new grandchild must make his entrance into ~~his grandma's arms~~ this world any day now. He already weighs 3,5 kgs and his mother wholeheartedly agrees with me that it is time. We are all holding thumbs for a special present for his grandpa on Saturday (lol).

Gaelyn, from geogypsy is arriving in SA on 3 March and if all goes well and according to plan, I will meet her while she is here.  This is so exciting as I love her blog and I am really looking forward to getting to know her face to face.

So there you have it. My life at present, in a nutshell. So if I am somewhat absent from Blogland over the next couple of days (as if I blog daily) please understand. Sooner or later (probably later) I will have time again to sit down and write a proper post... promise.

Ever wondered if men remember anniversaries?

2010-02-02T08:32:00.000+02:00

Someone sent me this one this morning and I thought I'd share it.

A woman awakes during the night to find that her husband was not in their bed. She puts on her dressing gown and goes downstairs to look for him.

She finds him sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee in front of him. He appears to be in deep thought, just staring at the wall.

She watches as he wipes a tear from his eye and takes a sip of his coffee.

What's the matter, dear?' she whispers as she steps into the room, 'Why are you down here at this time of night?'

The husband looks up from his coffee, 'I am just remembering when we first met 20 years ago and started dating. You were only 16. Do you remember back then?' he says solemnly.

The wife is touched to tears thinking that her husband is so caring, so sensitive.

'Yes, I do.' she replies.

The husband pauses. The words were not coming easily.

'Do you remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car?'

'Yes, I remember!' said the wife, lowering herself into a chair beside him.

The husband continues: ''Do you remember when he shoved the shotgun in my face and said, 'Either you marry my daughter, or I will send you to jail for 20 years?''

'I remember that too.' she replies softly.

He starts sobbing and in between sobs he gets out:

'I would have been released today.'

Lets talk... please!

2010-02-01T12:27:00.001+02:00

About 2 months ago, I started an Afrikaans blog on Blogger, but then moved it to Wordpress as that seemed to be more popular amongst fellow Afrikaans bloggers.

I immediately noticed the different attitude and habits of the bloggers in this Afrikaans environment. Suddenly I was getting the "strangest" comments on my posts. People actually disagreed with me on certain issues. Comments became discussions. Following comments on posts often became more interesting and entertaining than the original blog. There is a vibrancy amongst the Afrikaans bloggers that I never experienced on my English blog. I was quite taken aback in the beginning, but I soon came to enjoy these lively discussions and arguments that ensued after every blog. Admittedly, there are not so many comments on my posts yet, but discussions on the more established blogs sometimes last for days.

On Just I and Myself I am used to much more reserved comments. Everybody is so polite and invariably agree with whatever view I post. Compliments galore... and I am grateful for every one of them.

Yet I would not mind if people would disagree with me every now and again. I live in a small town with a very conservative lifestyle and basically a very narrow outlook on life, and I know that there are other people out there with other lifestyles and cultures and outlooks and visions and I have a longing to interact with them to learn from them. However, if everybody agrees with me all the time, I will never be challenged to think wider than my little pinpoint on earth.

Surely a person's intelectual and emotional growth starts at birth and only stops with death. This kind of growth can only sprout if it receives enough nutrition in the form of healthy debate. If we only communicate or interact with those who agree with us and thinks like us, we will never be challenged to consider other possibilities and will become stagnant in our growth.

For myself, I want to be exposed to other ideas. I want to know how people differ from me. I want people to be honest if they disagree with my opinion. I want to test new ideas against other people's ideas. You might just know something that could change or enrich my perception or understanding of a matter, situation or incident.

This however does not mean that I want to fight or become angry with people, no, not at all. What I want is to learn from other people's experiences and their more advanced knowledge. So come on guys, if you think that what I wrote is nonsence, tell me. If you have any additional ideas on what I wrote, tell me. If you have a similar story, tell me. If you disagree, tell me. Lets talk about it and learn from one another, and enjoy one another's differences and eccentricities.

FIFA 2010 World Cup on my Doorstep in Cape Town

2010-01-30T21:08:00.001+02:00

As promised, here is the second World Cup Stadium. The Cape Town Stadium is the most beautiful of the stadiums for the 2010 World Cup as far as I am concerned but then again, I am bias as I also believe that Cape Town is the most beautiful city in the world.

More years back than I care to remember, I spent many weekends in one of the blocks of flats (apartments) in the background of this photo of the old Green Point Stadium. At the time, this was home to one of the two major professional soccer teams based in Cape Town. In fact it is so long ago, I cannot remember which one...

In 2007 this stadium was demolished and in a short 33 months, at a cost of R4,4-billion (approximately US$600-million) the new Cape Town Stadium arose. On 14 December 2009, Cape Town Executive Mayor, Alderman Dan Plato, received the keys to the stadium officially confirming the opening of Cape Town Stadium.

Cape Town Stadium is beautifully situated on the Green Point Common between the Atlantic Ocean and Signal Hill with Table Mountain and Devil's Peak as a backdrop. It has a seating capacity of 68 000 spectators and has noise-reducing cladding. The rainwater from the roof will be collected into ponds in the 60 hectare urban park surrounding it.

The very popular Victoria & Alfred Waterfront is quite near it and I could not resist this night photo of the stadium towering over this tourist attraction.

PS: Thank you so much to all the wonderful photographers for their wonderful photographs. I have no idea who you are and I hope you will forgive me for using your work in this blog.

Recognition at last!

2010-01-24T19:26:00.000+02:00

Things are really looking up at work. The bosses decided that us general dogsbodies deserve to get our own toilet and I am so excited, I just had to post a photo.

Received this in an E-Mail from a friend and thought I'd pass it along to see who else identifies with what it says.

Over a Thousand Hills... Lambs to the Slaughter?

2010-01-22T11:00:00.002+02:00

Little Jeanne d'Arc Umubyeyi lived happily with her parents, brother and little sister. Her mother was a teacher and her father a Professor and they lived in a comfortable house with a beautiful tiled roof. She happily fought with her little sister and teased her brother. She visited her grandmother over school holidays and lived her life like any other little girl of eight, anywhere in the world... carefree and secure!

Then came that horrible day in April 1994, when her life was irrevocably changed forever. In a few short days, every thing, and every one who made up her world, were taken from her... simply because she was a Tutsi and the Hutus hated them.

Jeanne lost her whole family. She watched her mother being tortured to death, she saw her brother being hacked to death, she heard how her father was driven along for days while his capturers humiliated him and she never again heard from, or what happened to her little sister. She was left alone in a hostile world.

I have recently read the book "Over a Thousand Hills I Walk with You" by Hanna Jansen. It is Jeanne's story penned down by her adoptive mother. It is an excellent, but very disturbing book. However, I thing it should be read by as many people as possible because in essence it is a book about Africa... and about the people of Africa.

One thing that I do not understand is the fact that the Tutsis did nothing to defend themselves. I am not talking about the rebels that were already involved in the fighting, I am specifically speaking about the normal citizen who were staring death in the face and yet, did not lift a finger to defend himself. I am sure that some of the victims were killed by bullets, yet the description in the book mainly involves, hoes, machetes and beatings. Did the Tutsis not have these things? They gathered in large numbers on more than one occassion, yet at no time in the book is there any indication that they planned a defence. I do not understand this, as surely it is a basic human trait to defend yourself. Why did they not... or is it just not mentioned in this particular book?

Evita Bezuidenhout - Phenomenal Woman

2010-01-19T10:29:00.000+02:00

Recently I wrote a post about Princess Grace of Monaco and I feel honour bound to balance it with a post about our own royalty. Now as you know, SA is a Democracy so we do not have a royal family but the closest we will ever get to it, is a phenomenal woman, Evita Bezuidenhout, or Tannie Evita as she is affectionately known over here. She is loved by many, and hated by many, but nobody can deny or ignore her. She has lived a rich and rewarding life and played a major role in the recent history of our country.

Tannie Evita was born as Evangelie Poggenpoel on 28 September 1935 in the little Orange Free State town of Bethlehem. In the 1950's she became almost famous as an actress for her roles in such Afrikaans epic movies as Meisie van my Drome (Girl of my Dreams) and Duiwelsvallei (Devil's Valley).

She married Dr J.J. de V. Bezuidenhout (affectionately known as Oom Hasie), the Member of Parliament for Laagerfontein, in 1958 and three children, De Kock, Izan and Billie-Jeanne were born from this union. Of course, as Oom Hasie's wife, Evita met and became involved with many politicians, even Prime Ministers, Presidents and other various Cabinet Ministers. Eventually, she completely overshadowed Oom Hasie in his political career and was appointed as SA Ambassador to the Independent Black homeland, Republic of Bapetikosweti.

For many years, Evita has been the conscience of the Afrikaner, whether he likes or admits it, or not. She took this nation through all the changes since the 70's and is currently assisting the present government to keep its feet firmly planted on Mother Earth. Such is her influence that they relied on her to help to educate the "masses" on the intricasies of voting in National Elections.

At present, Evita is an Ambassador without Portfolio and living at Evita se Perron (railway station) in the little town of Darling in the Western Cape. She is the grandmother of Billie-Jeanne and Leroy Makoeloeli's three children. Her son Izan is an active member of the AWB (radical rightwing movement) and De Kock is a member of the Gay Liberation Movement. Oom Fasie is retired and working on his memoirs.

Evita is known and loved as a truly phenomenal woman, not only in her own country, but worldwide. She was awarded the Living Legacy 2000 Award in San Diego by the Woman's International Centre for "Her contribution to the place of women in the last century". Both Mother Theresa and Hilary Clinton are past honourees of this award and while they received it for their own uniqueness, Tannie Evita received it for the laughter and positive energy that her presence evokes.

Perhaps the most remarkable fact about Evita Bezuidenhout is that she is not a real person. She is the brainchild of South African playwright and satirist, Pieter Dirk Uys. If you remove the wig, the eyelashes and the lipstick, you will see the resemblance!

I will allow Pieter Dirk (himself a phenomenal person) to tell you about Evita in his own words:

"Toward the end of the 1970's, I was writing a weekly column for the Sunday Express in Johannesburg. It was during the time of the Information Scandal, which led to the eventual fall of John Vorster and the rise of PW Botha. The land was abuzz with rumours of embezzlements, thefts, even murder - but because of the ever-increasing paranoia about press control and censorship, it was not possible to write about these things.

So I created a character in my column out of whose mouth these rumours / facts dripped like warm honey. She was the wife of a Nationalist NW, someone on the fringes of power but elbow-deep in the catering, so she knew all the ins and outs. For 3 years she appeared about once a month, informing the nation of the stench under the cloak of respectability and no-one stopped her (me). Someone even gave her a name: "The Evita of Pretoria".

When I started my one-man show "Adapt or Dye" in April 1982, I gave this creature a physical reality - eyelashes, high heels and handbag - and she has never looked back! Right from the start "Tannie Evita" stepped out of the chorus line and took off into folklore, leaving behind the many other characters I did in my shows.

The public wanted more of her all the time, so I created more around her - her husband Hasie and her three children. I played them all on stage in "Farce about Uys" and on film in "Skating on thin Uys".

The absurdity of the homeland system cried out for attention and so she became its most famous ambassador. Even during 2 years when I stopped performing her - fearing she would swamp me with her forcefulness - the public didn't notice. Mrs Evita Bezuidenhout was alive and living among them, in spite of me!

I introduced her to audiences in Australia, the United Kingdom, Canada, Holland, Germany and Scandinavia. She became as confident on foreign soil as she was in her own backyard. People wrote to her, promising to support her in her legal efforts to control that "third-rate satirist Pieter-Dirk Uys" who was so cruelly making fun of her.

Politicians wrote too. Minister Pik Botha faxed her, Archbishop Desmond Tutu kissed her on the cheek and danced the toyi-toyi with her in his garden. Designers designed for her. I dieted because of her.

Originally the idea for a biography on Evita centred around a few recipes and funny pictures, but once five years of research into the fascinating detail of South African politics had passed, I realised that Evita's biography was not just the story of a woman, or the story of a nation. It was, in many cases, the story of our lives."

I have read this biography, A PART HATE A PART LOVE , and it is one of the most entertaining books I have ever read. What amazed me the most was that this was the biography of a person who does not exist, yet her story, apart fromt he satire, could be the story of a real woman. If you can get hold of it, read it, it is well worth it!

Her Serene Highness Princess Grace - A name that says it all!

2010-01-13T19:31:00.001+02:00

I have always been intrigued by royalty. Their lives, their personalities, their reputations, their looks, their... well actually, about everything about them. I have not always agreed with the world at large about the qualities of certain royals, and I have never had the urge to elevate any royal to near-sainthood, but they still fascinate me.

One of my favourites was, and still is the late Princess Grace of Monaco. Apart from the fairytale love story that surrounded her courtship and subsequest marriage to Prince Rainier of Monaco, Grace Kelly holds a very special place in my admiration. She was everything a princess should be. Beautiful and graceful.

Young Grace Kelly - the actress

Grace Kelly - the bride

Grace Kelly - the mother

Grace Kelly - the princess

Grace Kelly - the beautiful

At the funeral of Princess Grace, James Stewart said: "You know, I just love Grace Kelly. Not because she was a princess, not because she was an acrss, not because he was my friend, but because she was just about the nicest lady I ever met."

Ain't they beautiful... and so delicious!

2010-01-09T21:00:00.001+02:00

A while ago I posted some photos of the bees pollenating the litches (lychees) on our tree. (http://justiandmyself.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-i-left-my-house-this-morning-on-my.html) Now it is about three months later and they are ready to eat. Delicious, and so pretty!

Litchees are not indigenous to South Africa. It originally came from the southern provinces in China, but is now cultivated as far afield as The USA and South Africa. It is very high in Vitamin C and carries more heart-healthy polyphenols than grapes.

Good to look at, delicious to eat and healthy on top of it!

Lina Medina - Unbelieveable

2010-01-06T20:24:00.001+02:00

I was surfing the net for information about a specific subject for a post when I came across this story and although I am not easily shocked, I could not believe what I was reading, so I immediately decided to rather do a post on this. First I confirmed that it was not an urban legend as originally it was thought to be a hoax, but the case has been well documented and confirmed by medical evidence.

Little Lina lived with her father, mother and eight siblings in Antacancha, 450 kilometres east of Lima, the capital of Peru. The shamans in the village became concerned about her belly getting bigger and bigger and asked her father, Tiburcio's permission to perform an exorcism to get rid of "the snake under her belly". Permission was granted and the ritual was performed. However this did not have the desired effect and her parents started believing that she was gravely ill with a tumor growing in her stomach.

They then travelled the 70 kilometres to the town of Pisco to Dr Gerardo Lozada who took charge of Lina's preliminary tests. He immediately noticed the size of her stomach and also thought that it might be a tumor. However, after evaluating her clinical tests many times and with the scientific thoroughness required by the circumstances, he declared Lina to be 8 months pregnant. He immediately informed the police who in turn immediately arrested her father, as the prime suspect of having sired the baby. He was soon released though as no there was no evidence against him. One of Lina's siblings, a mentally disabled, 9 year old, brother was then suspected of fathering the baby but this also could not be proven.

Lina Medina (5 years old and 8 months pregnant)

Dr Lozada admitted the pregnant girl to a clinic in Lima and sent someone to Antacancha to investigate the situation and circumstances there. He came back with the information that family members confirmed that even before Lina was 4 years old, her breasts had already started developing, she had pubic hair and she had started menstruating.

There was nothing to be done at such a late stage in the pregnancy but to prepare for the imminent birth of the baby. On 14 May 1939, fittingly on Mother's Day, Lina's 2,7 kg, 48 cm tall, baby was born by cesarean section. Dr Busalleu was the surgeon and Dr Colretta the anaesthesiologist. The baby boy was named Gerardo after Dr Lozada.

The news of this unprecedented medical event spread like wildfire and it even minimised the relevance of preparations for World War II for a couple of days. Lina and her baby stayed in the maternity clinic for a period of 11 months during which time she learned to read and write. The story has it that her family refused all offers of using the girl and her baby for financial gain, but was willing to sign an agreement with the Seltzer Compamy to study the case. However, Oscar Benavides, president of Peru at the time, enacted a law on the tutelage of Lina and her son under the promise of a grant for life for both. They never received on penny of this grant.

Lina's parents brought little Gerardo up as Lina's brother but when he was 10 years old, he learned the truth about his birth. Unfortunately he died at the age of 40 from a bone marrow disease. (It had no connection with his unusual gestation or birth).

As a young adult, she worked as a secretary for Dr Lozada, who saw to her being educated and who also helped her to put Gerardo through high school.
At the age of 33, Lina married Raul Jurado and spent her married life in "Chicago Chico", a very poor suburb of Lima. In 1972 she gave birth to another son. During the 80's her house was demolished to make way for a highway and she did not receive any compensation whatsoever.

After almost 70 years it is still a mistery as to who fathered Gerardo. Lina and her husband still lives in poverty and it was reported in the "El Pais" journal that she has only one ambition: to obtain compensation from her government for the house they demolished.

Most of the information used in this post was found at the blog of Iron Queen and at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lina_Medina.

(Quoted from Wikipedia: "Extreme precocious puberty in children 5 or under is very uncommon; pregnancy and delivery by a child this young remains extremely rare. Extreme precocious puberty is treated to suppress fertility, preserve growth potential, and reduce the social consequences of full sexual development in childhood.)

Back to Work

2010-01-04T19:16:00.000+02:00

Much to tired to blog tonight. First day back at work after 2 weeks of leave.

I must really start buying Lotto (SA's National Lottery) tickets so that I can become a millionaire very quickly and stay home. Just think of it: I can sit and blog, and game and surf all day long... (sigh).

Then again, if I have a couple of million in the bank, why stay put? I can clutch my laptop under my arm, jump on a plane and visit Canada, America, England, Hawai and all those wonderful places I read about everyday. I will, of course, pop in and say hello to each and everyone of my blogland friends... with arms full of presents!

Chocolate for some (Okay, it will have to be lots and lots of chocolate), coffee for others, red wine for a few, definitely a housemaid and babysitter for one specifically. Oh wouldn't it be lovely?

Okay, okay, I know I am rambling, so goodnight everybody, I'm off to my bath with a book and then to bed... that is after I have washed the dishes... and put the washing in the machine... and fed the cat... and given Hubby his cup of tea...

FIFA 2010 World Cup on my Doorstep

2010-01-02T20:56:00.001+02:00

At 21 minutes past noon, on 15 May 2004, excitement exploded in South Africa when FIFA President Joseph S. Blatter, during a live television broadcast, opened a white envelope, and announced South Africa to be the proud host country for the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Having already successfully hoster the IRB Rugby World Cup in 1995, the 1996 CAF Africa Cup of Nations, the IAAF Athletics World Cupin 1998, the 1999 All Africa Games and the ICC Cricket World Cup in 2003, South Africa was ready to take on a much bigger challenge, the 2010 FIFA Soccer World Cup.

Now we are only 159 days away from the start of the tournament and I believe we are as ready for it as any country anywhere in the world could be at this stage. Over the past couple of years many projects have been undertaken to prepare South Africa to be ready on 11 June 2010 when the World Cup tournament kicks off. Ten stadiums have been prepared; some upgraded and some new ones built. The roads have been upgraded to handle the traffic load that the increase in tourism will bring. The Gautrain Project has been launched and the first stage will be completed in time for transporting visitors from Oliver Tambo International Airport to Sandton in Johannesburg. The airports have been enlarged and modernised to handle air traffic and passengers and even the mini bus taxi fleet has been improved by government initiative.

I hope to keep my blogger friends updated on what happens during these last 159 days before the opening ceremony at Soccer City in Johannesburg. Both the opening ceremony and the final match will be played at this stadium and therefore it is the first of the stadium that I want to introduce to you.

The design of Soccer City was inspired by a calabash, an African pot made from a gourd and used for storage and carrying water. The stadium is located just South West of Johannesburg and close to the soccer crazy township of SOWETO where approximately 40% of the population of Johannesburg lives. This stadium was previously known as the FNB Stadium with a seating capacity of 80,00 but after the multi-million Rand upgrade, it is now known as Soccer City and will seat almost 95,000 spectators.

Although many South Africans, especially in one specific cultural group who seems to go through life completely blind to the bigger picture, are extremely negative about this event, I personally think it is the best thing that has come to South Africa since the release of Nelson Mandela from prison. Whether it will bring financial prosperity to this country or whether it spells financial doom, I believe the true profits of this event will be the opportunity to show the world just what South Africa is about: A ~~so-called~~ Third World country with both feet firmly planted in the First World!

Just in Time

2009-12-31T07:52:00.001+02:00

2009 was good to me in the sense that it lasted just long enough to give me time to publish 100 posts in one calendar year. Now I know, for most of you, 100 posts in a year is not much but to me, whose middle name should have been procrastination, this is really an achievement.

I wanted to make this a very special post and the best way for me to make it special is to tell all my friends in blogland how special you have made blogging for me.

If you look at my very first post, you will realise that I started blogging because I felt a need to do something for myself and originally I intended to write down childhood memories. These initial intentions changed very quickly to an addiction to blogging. With this I certainly do not mean only writing posts, but mostly reading your posts and commenting on them.

A Majority of Two was the first blog that I became a follower of and to this day, Jo is still one of my favourite Blogger friends. Argent gave me a glimpse of what talent is and introduced me to Harold, my favourite weekly demon. Arley inspired me to be more productive and gave me"grandchildren" in Blogland. Sandy lifted my spirits daily with her positive outlook on life not to mention her generous spirit and special talent for finding bargain treasures. Phillip took me on many wonderful tours of one of Britians grand old houses, not to mention his fascinating personal history and Leilani takes me swimming with the dolphins and turtles in the clear waters of Hawai on a regular basis. Justin, well is Justin, a delight who give me a glimpse into his viewtiful life and JD teaches me what can be if and when you let God in. You guys have become very real to me. I do not think of you as people who live in my computer, I think of you as people living in my head and in my heart.

These are the people that I have known since life in Blogland began for me. There are many more who came later, but if I mention all of you here, I will still sit here at midnight trying to finish off my 100th post and then I fill miss my deadline.

You all have regularly transported me from my stoep and my boring little life to places and people and happenings that I otherwise never would have experienced and for that I cannot thank you enough. The most important thing here is: "I love you all and I appreciate the influence you have had on my life over the past 100 posts. I do hope you will still be with me for my 200th post, for I will certainly still be following all of you. Thank you for sharing in my life and allowing me to share in yours. My life is so much the richer for it!"

And Oh Yes! I hope you all will experience only peace, joy and prosperity in the year to come. May all your dreams come true and may all your prayers be answered. You are all special to me.