I was five years old and going off to nursery school - very grudgingly if I recall.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Where were you, and what were you doing in 1978?
A little nostalgia and Friday silliness...
I was five years old and going off to nursery school - very grudgingly if I recall.
I was five years old and going off to nursery school - very grudgingly if I recall.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
A dimly lit future with sharp obstacles
"My interest is in the future because I am going to spend the rest of my life there." Charles F Kettering
I came across this quote yesterday while going through some old boxes along with this one, "Fear not for the future, weep not for the past." by Percy Bysshe Shelly. Both struck a cord with me. I found them going through some boxes filled with musky old trinkets from my varsity days. It brought back memories of toga parties, getting drunk on a single can of cider and many sleepless nights. I remember desperately trying to etch out an identity for myself, to try to fit in and to find a cause to fight for. I remember watching Nelson Mandela speak in an overcrowded student hall crammed with almost two thousand students on a sweltering Durban day.
Thinking back now, I feel extremely privileged to be living through one of the greatest political transformations of our country’s history. Having just begun university just prior to Nelson Mandela being released from prison I remember it as an exciting time. The air charged with the prospect of change, apprehension, fear, uncertainty but mostly positivity and a general sense that finally we would be moving forward as a country.
One of my most vivid memories of my first year at university (pre-post-apartheid) was of my Dad driving me to school every morning on his way to work. The endless traffic and the long winding roads through lush overgrown stretches land. As I lapped in the scenery of giant jacaranda's, coral trees and the rising morning sun, the discussion was almost always exactly the same. There was a particular 5km stretch of road that surrounded the university grounds that raised the same heated comments every, single, day.
“This land use to be ours you know?” my Dad says pointing vigorously out the window. “They didn’t even pay us for the land!” he complained.
“Yes I know Dad” I say sympathetically.
”They just made us move!”
“Yes Dad, I know..” sighing
“ They didn’t even develop the land!” more sighing. ”Are your listening..?"
“Yes Dad...” more long sighs
“We use to live right over there! Between those two trees!” he says pointing to giant palm trees on the hill.
”I know Dad...” I say wondering exactly how it was possible that my father did not suffer from high blood pressure. Not at all surprised that my mother did.
And so it was the same almost every morning. The saddest thing was that the land was never used and remained vacant futher compounding the injury. Many were never paid for the land and if they were it was considerably lower than the market value. Save for three religious building and a crematorium, every home in Cator Manor was destroyed and thousands of families displaced. Hundreds of hard earned properties lost.
Today many years later, I watch as my father grapples with the social changes and mindsets of the new South Africa. He tries hard but some of the pain is still too deeply entrenched and I have come to realise may never be dispelled in his lifetime.
Our new democracy has afforded us many liberties but like my father many struggle with old wounds. Some attempts to heal old wounds have resulted in the infliction of new ones. Many have to reconcile themselves to that fact that they will never be any retribution or justice for past wrongs. That some wounds may never heal in this lifetime but perhaps in the generations to come. It is all very sad and frustrating.
I find myself wondering what sort of future we can look forward to in South Africa over the next 10 years? On a good day the horizon looks dimly lit and route there is littered with the sharpest of obstacles. Despite this I have to believe that our future is a good one or where does that leave me? I have to believe that we live in a good age.
Everything is possible.
I came across this quote yesterday while going through some old boxes along with this one, "Fear not for the future, weep not for the past." by Percy Bysshe Shelly. Both struck a cord with me. I found them going through some boxes filled with musky old trinkets from my varsity days. It brought back memories of toga parties, getting drunk on a single can of cider and many sleepless nights. I remember desperately trying to etch out an identity for myself, to try to fit in and to find a cause to fight for. I remember watching Nelson Mandela speak in an overcrowded student hall crammed with almost two thousand students on a sweltering Durban day.
Thinking back now, I feel extremely privileged to be living through one of the greatest political transformations of our country’s history. Having just begun university just prior to Nelson Mandela being released from prison I remember it as an exciting time. The air charged with the prospect of change, apprehension, fear, uncertainty but mostly positivity and a general sense that finally we would be moving forward as a country.
One of my most vivid memories of my first year at university (pre-post-apartheid) was of my Dad driving me to school every morning on his way to work. The endless traffic and the long winding roads through lush overgrown stretches land. As I lapped in the scenery of giant jacaranda's, coral trees and the rising morning sun, the discussion was almost always exactly the same. There was a particular 5km stretch of road that surrounded the university grounds that raised the same heated comments every, single, day.
“This land use to be ours you know?” my Dad says pointing vigorously out the window. “They didn’t even pay us for the land!” he complained.
“Yes I know Dad” I say sympathetically.
”They just made us move!”
“Yes Dad, I know..” sighing
“ They didn’t even develop the land!” more sighing. ”Are your listening..?"
“Yes Dad...” more long sighs
“We use to live right over there! Between those two trees!” he says pointing to giant palm trees on the hill.
”I know Dad...” I say wondering exactly how it was possible that my father did not suffer from high blood pressure. Not at all surprised that my mother did.
And so it was the same almost every morning. The saddest thing was that the land was never used and remained vacant futher compounding the injury. Many were never paid for the land and if they were it was considerably lower than the market value. Save for three religious building and a crematorium, every home in Cator Manor was destroyed and thousands of families displaced. Hundreds of hard earned properties lost.
Today many years later, I watch as my father grapples with the social changes and mindsets of the new South Africa. He tries hard but some of the pain is still too deeply entrenched and I have come to realise may never be dispelled in his lifetime.
Our new democracy has afforded us many liberties but like my father many struggle with old wounds. Some attempts to heal old wounds have resulted in the infliction of new ones. Many have to reconcile themselves to that fact that they will never be any retribution or justice for past wrongs. That some wounds may never heal in this lifetime but perhaps in the generations to come. It is all very sad and frustrating.
I find myself wondering what sort of future we can look forward to in South Africa over the next 10 years? On a good day the horizon looks dimly lit and route there is littered with the sharpest of obstacles. Despite this I have to believe that our future is a good one or where does that leave me? I have to believe that we live in a good age.
Everything is possible.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Dodgy Doctors
On Sunday I found myself reading the Sunday Times or the Sunday Tabloid as I like to call it. The Sunday Times is usually riddled with half investigated stories with gaping factual holes and blatant lies. I was mortified when I read this article however. Judging by the many names listed , this has to be true or the defamation law suits would be frightening.
Dodgy doctors: The G-string and other scandalous exploits
Here is the full list of doctors and their exploits.
Of particular interest to me was a neurologist, Dr J Reid who among many other things:
Dodgy doctors: The G-string and other scandalous exploits
Here is the full list of doctors and their exploits.
Of particular interest to me was a neurologist, Dr J Reid who among many other things:
- had a patient walk in a straight line in nothing but a g-string
- performed internal pelvic exams which falls outside his scope as a neurologist
- performed sexual and or intimate acts on his patients.
Sicko's!
What is this world coming to?
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Infinite 8
Frankly Wrankles issued a 'Power of 8’ challenge which Ramon and I have taken on, so here goes something. My best friend R is obsessed with numerology, so much so that she has even written computer programmes to perform the calcultions. Simply punch in your date of birth and presto! - everything you need to know about yourself. Personally I would like to believe that I am a bit more complicated than a few digits.
Numerologists apparently consider the number 8 to be a very auspicious number, reinforced by many cultural myths over the centuries. Numerogically I am all about ‘8’ it would appear. I’m born on 24th August 1972.
3x8= 24
2x4=8
August is the 8th month of the year
born in ‘72
72 = 7+2= 9
9 x 8 = 72
1972 = 1+9+7+2 = 19
9-1=8
By the way, I have tagged 16 (2x8) people to date and for some strange reason my computer password always has to have 8 letters. It is in exactly 8 weeks from today that I will be in Thailand and would have hopefully met Ramon. Numerogically, I am supposed to be generally well balanced and positive?! Hmm?
Lying on it's side the number 8 is transformed into the mathematic infinity symbol. The definition of infinity states that: if you started walking towards a goal on an infinite horizon and you lived to be 1000 years old, you would be no closer to getting to that horizon than you were when you started 1000 years earlier. Depressing isn't it?
I have come to realise that I have to reconcile that certain things in our life that will always stay beyond my reach. No matter how hard I try and despite feeling it almost within my grasp, it will always elude me. I am no closer to it than when I started.
It is interesting how my desire for some goals consume me, drive me like the infinite repetitive action of a preprogrammed machine, without an off switch. Most of the time, I am not even aware that I do it. This action I have come to realise, does not propel me forward as a person. It is more a case of running on the spot. Stagnant and achieving no personal growth. I need to take lots of deep breaths and let some things go. Forever.
Other deeply personal insights into myself. When confronted with that whole is your figure “apple or pear shaped” question, I have often thought mine resembles more of a figure of 8. A clearly defined wide top and bottom and slightly thinner middle. I just wish it was a sightly leaner Arial Narrow kinda 8 rather than a Swis721 BlkEx BT kinda wide assed 8.
8 words I love the sound of:
- scrumptious
- squish
- luscious
- plush
- tenderness
- chocolate
- delicious
- provocative
8 words I dislike the sound of:
- divulge
- confounded
- carob
- placate
- blob
- plethora
- throb
- fat
8 of my favourite comfort foods
- cereal and yogurt
- tea and biscuits
- strawberries dipped in honey
- dark chocolate (cherry liqueur ones)
- cheese and preserves
- Windhoek Lager and Lays crisps
- vanilla incream cone dipped in chocolate
- fries with lots of salt, vinegar and tomato sauce (it has to be a really bad day)
8 of my favourite things.
- Being out in the wild unspoilt areas of the world brings me enormous inner peace.
- Trying new things for me is a bit like opening presents. I love trying new experiences, foods, books, places etc. I am a marketers dream.
- Cooking. There’s something about sharing with and feeding people, nourishing them. It is a spirutual experience.
- Shopping for presents is one of my most favourite things to do. Guilt free and theraputic I tell you. Its one of my most favourite things and one day I am going to make a profession out of it.
- Driving. I love driving, doesn’t matter where or what I am going. May be a control issue but I enjoy it too much to think about it. May also have something to do with the fact that I love travelling and machines that get you from A to B.
- Making a difference in this world is important to me. It one of the reasons I chose my career and I have the ability to changes the lives of people everyday – not just physically or environmentally. It is very rewarding.
- Blogging - though I wish I had more time to indulge.
- Sex – ditto
Off the eight tee, Joe sliced his shot deep into a wooded ravine. He took his eight iron and clambered down the embankment in search of his lost ball. After many long minutes of hacking at the underbrush, he spotted something glistening in the leaves. As he drew nearer, he discovered that it was an eight iron in hands of a skeleton!
Joe immediately called out to his friend, "Jack, I've got trouble down here!"
"What's the matter?" Jack asked from the edge of the ravine.
"Bring me my wedge," Joe shouted. "You can't get out of here with an eight iron!"
And finally, my wish for every week: I wish for and eight day week with a three day weekend. The lyrics to Eight Days a Week by the Beatles. Is it just me or was life a lot simpler in the 60s?
Ooh I need your love babe,
Guess you know it’s true.
Hope you need my love babe,
Just like I need you.
Hold me, love me, hold me, love me.
Ain’t got nothin’but love babe,
Eight days a week...
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