Synchronicity - life in the balance

Some days, you just get your socks blown right off. When it happens on a dark day, so much the better. Because that’s just synchronicity and universal grace at work.

I woke up this morning in a thorough state of gloom, stressed out and despairing. The current socio-political climate in South Africa is enough to drive anyone to drink and/or distraction.

The murder, purportedly over a wage dispute, of Afrikaner rightwing extremist leader, Eugene Terre’blanche has created a pivotal and dangerous moment in modern South African history. Murder is bad and common enough in South Africa, especially farm murders (it is estimated that between 1000 and 3000 white farmers have been killed since the ANC came to power), but the situation is inflamed by the constant singing of an anti-apartheid struggle song, which includes the lyrics “kill the boer”, by the leader of the ANC Youth League, Julius Malema. ("Boer" is the Afrikaans word for "farmer", but is also used as a derogatory term for any white person.) It’s not like this benighted country needs people stirring up racial disharmony and animosity and picking on ethnic minorities – there’s quite enough of that as it is (remember the xenophobia I wrote about a couple of years ago). While a court order banned Malema from singing the song, citing it as “hate speech”, it didn’t stop him, and moreover, the ANC sided with him when they vowed to fight the ban. As you can imagine, racial tensions are running high and it would seem like all the good work done in the very early years of democracy by real leaders like Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu are being rapidly undone – and by the ANC itself. I was going to write a lengthy post on the subject, but instead let me refer you to the press release from the South African Institute of Race Relations – a liberal and respected think tank – which pretty much sums it up.
(Thank goodness the ANC have today told Malema to stop singing the song - though whether he listens will be another matter.)

Now let me give you the flip side. Having been out, I came home to find a receipt from the post office and duly trotted off to collect my parcel.

Oh what joy! What generosity of spirit! And it couldn’t have happened on a more apt day.

You will recall that a few posts ago I blogged about artist Sara-J, whose work is just so rich, so vivid and, despite the humour, so profound. Since I commissioned my gorgeous painting from her, Sara-J has had several sales.

My totally delicious Sara-J oil painting

She’s wanting to leave the Netherlands and move to France where she’s found herself the perfect studio. But she’s needed to raise additional funds after one of her principal backers let her down. Because I love her work and because I wanted to help, I decided, despite the mutterings of my piggy bank, to buy two small prints.

Craig's Lillies

Summer Lillies

Nice, aren’t they!?

But imagine my delight and surprise when I opened the parcel and discovered not just the two etchings I’d ordered, but three more – a proof of “St Joseph’s”, 1/75 (i.e. a first print) of “St Joseph’s 2” and, joy of joys a wonderfully colourful etching of “Nasturtiums” which I’d considered buying but in the interests of the grizzling piggy bank had refrained from doing.

St Josephs

St Josephs 2

Nasturtiums

I am blown away by Sara-J’s generosity and kindness – and the pictures and her thoughtfulness could not have come on a better day!

Here is someone who not only creates the most stunning art, but who also has a big and wonderful heart. She said, in the note she sent with the pictures, that she wanted to thank me for doing a blog post about her work and for the advice I’d sent her, courtesy of the wonderful Tessa Edwards of Aerial Armadillo, about online galleries where she might promote her work. For me, helping Sara-J was pure pleasure, and her art, which already adorns my walls, was thanks enough, so I am, on one of the rare occasions in my life, left speechless.

All I can say is, “Sara-J – thank you! You are very special and totally wonderful!”

For those of you reading this, do me a favour, and please take another look at Sara-J’s website if you’ve not already done so – and consider buying yourself a little treat! You won’t regret it!

Chocolate Warblings

A while ago I promised you a hot chocolate recipe – and so far, although I’ve drunk mugs of the stuff myself, I’ve failed to deliver...

Addicted to chocolate...

Now while I realise its summer for many of you (yes, including those in grey, damp England…), here’s Absolute Vanilla’s Hot Chocolate …

1 very heaped teaspoon of good quality cocoa
10 – 20 g of dark chocolate - I use Lindt 70% - broken into tiny pieces (the amount you use is entirely dependent on how indulgent you feel)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tiny pinch of sea salt (there is something about salt that enriches the chocolatiness of chocolate…)
1 mug of milk, rice milk or lactose free milk (I don’t recommend soya milk!)
Sugar to taste, it’s up to you how rich and sweet you like your hot choc.

Put everything into a small pot, whisk well and heat on a medium to high heat for about 5 ½ minutes – but do not allow to boil. Give another good whisk and pour into your favourite mug. Sit down and slurp away.
If you wanted to get fancy, you could add a dash of cinnamon or even a tiny pinch of chili, or alternately a dollop of cream or some marshmallows.

Meanwhile, I once more unashamedly acknowledge being a lousy blogger – but the energies, as you well know, are all directed elsewhere at present. The rewrite is complete and has had its first edit – I’m in the throes of working on the synopsis. I’ve also rewritten the prologue and first chapter of the other manuscript and at the moment, I have a short story that is insistent on spewing itself out. It happens like this. I get hijacked by words. And I’m thinking that I should perhaps start submitting one or two shorts somewhere.

In other news – bear with me, I’m playing catch up here, I had a text/sms from Angela. She is unemployed and the friend (who runs the employment agency for "disadvantaged" people) who had said she would help to find Angela a job, hasn’t done so. The friend and I are “no speak” at present, after I phoned up to find out how things were going and was roundly reprimanded for “interfering”. Hmm, well my view is this: when you raise people’s expectations you take on a load of responsibility. You can’t then turn around and say, “I never made any promises”. You just can’t play with people’s lives like that. Angela, loathe though she is to do so, may well have to go back to the dreadful Pecksniff for work. If any of you have any bright suggestions as to how one might help her in these dire recessionary times – and when xenophobia is raising its stinking head again, then I’d love to hear from you. We’ve offered to buy her and the baby a ticket back to Zimbabwe, because things are starting to improve there, but she doesn’t want to go.

And then talking of things recessionary and dire – I spotted this in today’s press – and it does nothing to fill me with any degree of hope or joy about South Africa's future. The pot, I fear, is simmering and it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.

Spring has sprung, but chaos abounds

The brightness of an orange gazania

Although the mountains around the city still have their layer of snowy icing covering their peaks, today the sky is clear and cloudless, a pristine blue. The sun is shining and the first coucal of the season has been warbling since dawn. The robin is sounding particularly chirpy this morning and even the boubou has been issuing a chirrupy mating call. The guinea fowl are at it all over the garden, much chasing which lasts until he finally catches her, hops on and it's all over in a second. Seems hardly worth all the running, doesn't it!

Guineas at the pond

All around there is the sense of things waking and stretching into life. The trees are already sporting new lime green leaves and the rock rose has suddenly burst into a profusion of pink flowers.

Thank goodness, it's been a long, cold and wet winter with an uncharacteristic amount of snow.

Sunlight on Hibiscus

Meanwhile the rest of the world seems to be falling into disarray. I read that the UK might now be expecting a depression rather than a recession. The US seems to be in a state of both financial and political turbulence. Here, government appears to be falling apart. Thabo Mbeki has been asked to resign following on "political conspiracy" in attempting to bring Jacob Zuma to trial on corruption charges. Although widely reported that said charges have been dropped, they haven't, but the process used against him was declared unlawful - the allegations of corruption stil stand. Meanwhile, it seems we're about to find ourselves leaderless while major divides within in the ANC (long overdue, frankly) are really shaking things up.

Sitting here with plans to move the UK early next year, we're suddenly wondering what to do. Face economic turmoil there, or stay and deal with political and economic turmoil here (not to mention the incessant crime and violence and affirmative action). Ho hum, eh?

Yes, well perhaps it is just best to focus on spring afterall.

West Coast daisies

Hello Xenophobia, my old friend, you raise your ugly head again...

I was pondering what to write about today when Angela arrived.
“Did you see the news last night?” she asked me.
I hadn’t.
“They’re killing Zimbabweans and Malawians – beating them – three people have died.”
“Who?” I asked, “who’s killing them – where?”
“Zulus – in Alexandra.”
Alexandra is a shanty town in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. An estimated 350 000 people live in “Alex”. They occupy 8500 formal houses, 34 000 shacks, 3 hostel complexes, 2 500 flats and numerous old factories and buildings. In the past few days xenophobic violence has flared across the community as local people have lashed out foreigners – Malawians, Zimbabweans, Congolese, Rwandans… Claiming the foreigners take their jobs and their homes. The foreigners, terrified for their lives, have fled to police stations where they are barely getting any food. Some, in fact, have had no food for a few days.
“They say that we must go back to Zimbabwe,” said Angela, “But we can’t, Mugabe is killing us there. Everyday he is killing people. I’m frightened. What if the Xhosas here start doing the same thing here in the Cape. Where will we go? We can’t go back. And if we stay here, South African black people will kill us. I’m worried.”
Worried is an understatement.
“What about Mozambique?” I asked.
“Yes, they are good people in Mozambique, but there are no jobs. You just sell things in the market. I don’t know what we will do.”
And so we face another grim reality of Angela’s daily existence. And that reality is xenophobia - rampant xenophobia which spills and spreads like an oil slick from the north to the south of South Africa. And the interesting thing is this: While, by and large, most white South Africans have accepted the nearly 5 million refugees from various parts of Africa, most black South Africans have not. They view these foreigners as troublemakers who “steal” their homes and their jobs. Ironically, the refugees have aided the South African economy hugely, doing whatever jobs come their way – while many locals would prefer to see largesse simply handed to them on a plate. So, yes, local people may be right in saying the foreigners are stealing their jobs – but only because they can – because many locals are simply not willing to work in the same way. It’s a tragic sort of irony.
“I pray every day to God,” said Angela, “I pray that he will make them not hate us and hurt us. I don’t understand it,” she said, “We are all Africans together.”
And therein lies the greatest irony. Not only are we all Africans together on this benighted continent, but we are all humans together, not just in Africa but in the whole world. And look at us, look at how we bicker and fight. I often wonder what an ET looking at this planet must think.
The simple reality is this, one man feels he is threatened and he attacks the man who lives next door. You see it the world over. You just have to look at the rise of nationalism across Europe. You hear the same arguments in the UK – “these foreigners are taking our jobs, we must have tougher immigration control”. And so it goes. It's a strange phenomenon for a global "village" isn't it, the villagers hating and fighting with one another.
But while most of us sit in our safe houses, with food on the tables, in Zimbabwe – and countless other places - people are starving and living in fear of their lives.
And as the global economic crisis plays itself out the people who are worst hit are the poorest. Local people are rising up at this moment against refugees because food prices have soared as a result of purported global food shortages – but you just have to look at the considerable food waste in the West to really question the reality of that position.
“I can’t go back to Zim,” Angela said as she pushed the iron back and forth over a shirt, “We will die. I know we will die. If Mugabe doesn’t kill us, we will starve to death. But I am frightened to stay here. I don’t know what we will do.”
And I have no answers. I don’t know what to say to her. All I can do is pass on the phenomenal goodwill that so many of you sent her via this blog last week. And when I do so, her eyes soften and she says, “Thank you, thank you, there are good people in the world.”

For more on the Alexandra violence and the plight of African foreigners in South Africa, you can take a look here here, here and here

At the Organic and Fresh Produce Market...

... under the Elephant's Eye...

And continuing Phoctober, of course.

Note the mountain pretending to be an elephant - see it's beady eye - known locally as the Elephant's Eye cave.

It's a tough life in Africa... chilling in the midday sun...

Waterblommetjies - water hyacinths, from which we make Malay inspired stews (called bredies - see recipe) and soups.

As fresh as it gets...

Dr Boomslang (meaning Dr Treesnake) does his thing in the garden...
Want to know more about boomslangs?

A riot of colour...

Freshly baked breads, croissants, and pastries from Crocodeli...

It's not just about food... we're an arty and crafty lot too...

Recycle, recycle and watch out for those baboons who are ever-aware of an easy handout - and hence become highly problematical and ultimately aggressive.
But they were here before us.

And when you need to wash away the dust and the morning's activities, there's nothing that will blow the top of you head off quite like a cup of "moer koffie" - a traditional country coffee brew - you won't ever be the same again and even the girls will have hair on their chests...
"Moer" means to, well... beat up very badly...

Dried meats - biltong is similar to jerky but flavoured with coriander (a Malay influence), droë wors (pronounced "droo-ah vorce") is similar but made from sausages. Beef and game meats are used. Want a recipe?
South Africans thrive on "biltong, braaivleis ( i.e. bbq's - the word translates as "barbequed meat"), sunny skies and sport...

Which brings me to...

A keen rugby supporter! Who by this morning will not only be a happy man but will undoubtedly be sporting the mother of all hangovers. Why? Because...

WE WON THE RUGBY WORLD CUP!!!
YEAH! HOORAY! VIVA! GO THE BOKKE!

Huge congratulations to the Springbok team, the coach and the management staff!
The Web Ellis Trophy has come home again!

Here's hoping this happy event will act as something of a unifying force in what remains a divided and troubled land. May the power of a team become the power of a nation.

A jubilant Springbok rugby team with their president

Photo courtesy of the South African Sunday Times