An interesting... and neverending-noise

On Sunday evenings, the bells at St George's Cathedral in Cape Town city centre are rung. And run and rung and rung. Then they stop for about 5 minutes. And then some dickweed rings them again. And again and again.

I do not appreciate this stroke-inducing contribution to my Sunday evenings. I couldn't give two shits that St George's is there. I couldn't care less who or what people do in that cathedral. BUT WHY DO I HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT IT?!

There are a few issues here.

1) I do not want to hear them. It has bugger all to do with Christianity. It has to do with them being incredibly annoying, and being run for an extensive period of time. If they were rung for 3 minutes once, I could cope easier. But nooooooo, we need to hear a few sessions of annoyance.

2) It is a residential area. People live in the centre of Cape Town. Although it is not a late hour, would I be able to go and have myself a small rock concert in suburbia at 6pm on a Sunday night? May I interrupt your American Idol by ringing twenty giant fucking bells outside your house in Rondebosch or Fourways or Umhlanga, for three or four session of five minutes? The answer is no.

3) Noise pollution leads to other pollution. In this day and age of discussing the green impact of everything, this constant ear-sore makes me close the window to try and stem its attempt to make me cut off my own ears with a breadknife. This means that the airflow in the flat stops and I am required to use electricity to use a machine to create ventilation. Yes, Christians, YOU are making me stuff up the environment and are contributing to global warming.

3.1) I also have to take pain killers as that clanging gives me a headache - and you know that the manufacturing of pharmaceuticals is bad for the environment. So well done. Kill the world with your bells, why don't you?

3.2) That eardrum-heammoraging delinquency of tune stemming from the St George's towers also scares the birds away.

3.3) And, in an extreme situation, I might have to drive away from the building in order to retain what's left of my sanity, contributing to that fuck off big hole in the ozone layer.

4) Before anyone tells me that Christians are easy targets or whatever gunk is usually written under columns about religion, I would have the same issue with any other window-permeating geraas at that volume - religious or not - at 6pm on a Sunday. Whether it's Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Zionists, Sikhs, Hindus, Rastafarians or Helen Zille's bloody birthday party, I DO NOT CARE, and do not wish to know about it for that extended period of time.

How's about a compromise, St George's? Why don't you ring them for one session of three minutes? That way I know it will end (currently it's a complete lottery unless you know the schedule of the church) and can plan my evening around trying to escape it. Is that reasonable? I think so.

An interesting... Saturday

Really, I just had the kiffest day ever yesterday.

I was reviewing the Cape Royale on Friday night so myself and my boyfriend woke up in a swanky hotel room. The sun was shining and Cape Town was being beautiful, as it is when it is not foggy and you can actually see it.

I bounced down to the Promenade to kick off the day with some exercise. We headed back to the hotel to fill ourselves up with breakfast and, after a complimentary 20-minute mssage, we checked out and headed off to Fish Hoek to watch my sister play hockey.

It's a stunning drive through leafy Rondebosch, down the M3, up and over Ou Kaapse Weg, weaving among hills with the Atantic glittering ahead of us, separated from the green land by the white beaches of Noordhoek and Kommetjie...

Laden with wine, we watched her tear up and down the field while we drank wine and smoked and blew a vuvuzela in support of her team - the the amusement of some, and the chagrin of others. They got drilled, so we were forced to sit behind and "commiserate" afterwards... in the glorious African sunshine.

On our way back to the highway, we decided to stop and have a squiz at Muizenberg Beach as neither of us had been there before (I know... and I've been living here for like 8 months or something). And we just sat and spoke kak for a bit. But good kak.

A good conversationalist is hard to find.

And we sat there on a pretty empty Muizenberg beach, talking about the world, South Africa, relationships, family, and how it all fits together. We spoke about important things. unimportant things, clever things. We laughed at dumb, funny and silly things. For ages.

While we chit-chatted away, people passed us walking their dogs, children ran past squealing and throwing sand at each other. People, sea-wet up to their ankles, kicked up small amounts of sand as they moved their feet.

And then the sun started going down, so we brushed the sand off us and went home.

Pretty cool day, if you ask me.

An interesting... weekend in the Winelands

My boyfriend and I spent last weekend in the Winelands, sipping wine, eating good food and generally just being happy. Here are some pics.

It's just beautiful everywhere, isn't it? This is taken from Graham Beck.

This is the entrance to Moreson.

Ok I know there are clouds everywhere, but these ones were just so pretty.

How stunning is this? I nearly creamed myself with excitement when I saw it.

You should all go to the Winelands. It's fuckin stunning. You can get packages there for R999 at the moment with Kulula. Just putting it out there.

A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a group of dwarves who lived in a forest in a land far far away from any ash cloud. They kept themselves fiscally active by mining after nationalising them a few years earlier than this story. On the way to work every morning they would sing "hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we go" (to the tune of Dubula iBhunu) or Awulethe uMshini Wam'.

There they would happily take the gold out of the ground and sell it and give the excess proceeds to the people living in the forests (after all the mortgages, champagne funds, watch and CLK car payments had gone off).

One day as the miners were driving back home, Grumpy Shivambu spotted a shoe in the middle of the road so he stopped and looked around. And there, lying face down on the ground, sobbing her eyes out was the beautiful and well-known Princess Sonono Khoza of the Orlando Empire. Dopey Malema, who had stopped just behing Grumpy Floyd ran up to help and shouted "quickly, put her in my Jeep - it's that white one with no number plates. We can take her home and help her." Then Dopey Malema phoned the cops for a blue light escort home so they got there faster.

Upon arrival, it became apparent that Princess Khoza was pregnant. Then she gave birth to a boy which she called Happy Sindane. "Please", she begged of the dwarves, "Don't tell anyone I am here. My father, King Irvin of Orlando must not know I had this child out of wedlock." What Princess Sonono had not told them was the identity of the father of the baby.

It was the evil King JZ from the neighbouring kingdom of KwaZulu - the homeland of AmaZulu, the Golden Arrows and Maritzburg United. Sonono did not want her father ever knowing.

However, the (Sunday) Oracle got wind of the story and set about investigating. She dressed up ike Khanyi Mbau and headed for the forest. She found it easy to find the dwarves house as she followed the sounds of hoop-la at the chapmagne party. As she neared she saw one of the dwarves being thrown out, and someone shouted "BASTARD, TAKE THAT TENDENCY SOMEWHERE ELSE". The Oracle ran up to the ejected dwarf, and it was none other than Bashful Lehlogonolo Masoga who was so pissed off and told the Oracle everything.

The next day, the Orace told the kingdom and all hell broke loose, and there were tears and gnashing of teeth. King Irvin declared war against King JZ and the armies readied themselves singing "we will kill for Zuma" or "bring me my machine gun" or "dubula fokken anyone".

Behind the scenes, though, JZ knew how to win the war. He phoned King of the World, Sepp Fatter and asked if he could have the World Cup. If so he would allow him a nice blue-light convoy through the Kruger Park - twice. Fatter agreed immediately and all of a sardine, JZ controlled all the soccer in the world, weakening King Irvin's kingdom. "Boo-ya!" said King JZ as he had won the war easily.

Then, in a complicated deal, organised it so King Irvin got R500 million rand so they became friends again. And no one knows what the hell happened to Sonono because she hasn't been in the news since then.

An interesting... change has already come

I live in oddly the most racist city in South Africa, but also boasting some of the most chilled subjects when it comes to race integration. This utter anomaly that is Cape Town was on full display at Assembly just off Buitenkant Street last night. Freshlyground launched their new album there, so there were a lot of black folks in the place ("a lot" being relative - probably 80% white and 20% black - more than you see in the average Cape Town establishment). I only arrived afterwards when Freshlyground had gone and some odd, yet interesting, Eastern European dancy music was playing.

After about an hour, people began dribbling out and it got to a point where there were only about 60 of us left there - the averages were now probably around half black folks and half white folks.I was drinking so my maths may be off.

The DJ eventually got over his Eastern European obsession, and started pumping out some local tunes. And we danced to a few of them. Out of the blue, he started playing Vuli Ndlela by Brenda Fassie, and simultaneously, the dancefloor all became excitable. I shrieked like an excited schoolgirl because it is one of my favourite songs, and then I realised that my friend's new boyfriend was also amped that it had come on. It is not often I come across other white folks that know any Brenda Fassie songs, let alone are able to sing along with them phonetically (I know it's lame - I have fokol idea of what the song is about, but I know how the words sound, so I sing along).

Straight after Vuli Ndleda the DJ played Weekend Special (also Brenda Fassie) and the mood on the dancefloor carried on. Now, I have no co-ordination whatsoever, and it is just not a nice thing to look at when I begin throwing myself around during a song. I can't dance to save my goddam life, but what I lack in ability I make up for in effort and enthusiasm. And my enthusiasm was directed to some like organised dance movement thing by other people - we threw ourselves in and tried to copy (some more successfully than me) and all danced together.

Yup, the white folks and the black folks and the coloured folks and old folks and young folks and gay folks and breeder folks all danced together. If Nelson Mandela had seen it he would have orgasmed.

South African folks, dancing together, to classic South African music.

Really, this divisive shit we like to espouse all day gets over-ridden by what happens when we all get together with a few drinks and some tunes and just fucking chill.

Christ, I love living in this country.

If you go out looking for some happiness here, you'll find it. Easily.

An interesting... exploitation of men

I just read an excellent piece about Lolly Jackson and the hero he temporarily became in the news.

In this piece, the writer notes: That women in strip clubs, and naked in tatty newspapers, are objects to be ogled at, and worse, is a fact of life. If any of those women want to take part in those activities of their own free will, of course, it's up to them. I am sure that there are women stripping out there who do so happily and because they want to. But at the same time, I am certain that the strip clubs of our country are filled with many more vulnerable women who have no other option, or who can do nothing else.

We have seen this debate go on and on and on - does the stripping industry (if I can call it that) objectify and degrade women? Many groups think so - some fairly forcefully.

But I have always wondered why this care and emotional reaction does not extend to male strippers and rent boys etc. Why do feminists only care about the objectification of women, and not men? Generally, men, particularly white ones, aren't exploited as a group, but it would be folly to think that exceptions aren't there. Why are the feminists only bleating about the exploited women working in these crappy bars in possibly the most degrading job, in the most uncontrolled legal industry, of all time?

It makes me wonder - is it because there is solid reason that men who take their clothes off and shag people for a living aren't exploited, and do this all of their own free will? Or is it a case of protecting only those one can relate to, instead of human rights as a whole?

One might think of the ANC as very pro-black rights, and on paper, that's true. But let me tell you - as a homosexual, they protect my rights too. As hard as it may be to believe, they protect the language rights of Afrikaners as well - otherwise we wouldn't have it in any educational institutions. Martin Luther King championed a HUMAN rights movement, not a black rights one. Many civil rights organisations have a focus, but bang on about HUMAN and CIVIL rights, and mean it.

Compare that to an organisation like Afriforum, as S'Thembiso Msomi does in this excellent column. In it, he says "Afriforum has led a spirited campaign against ANC Youth League president Julius Malema's ill-considered decision to continue singing a struggle song that features the phrase "shoot the Boer".

"Its campaign, however, is severely undermined by the fact that the organisation hardly uttered a word of protest when it was revealed that a security company manager had played a racist song at a Sun City event late last year. In that song, former president Nelson Mandela is called the "k-word"."

There was also no word from Afriforum when a group on facebook was calling black folks "houtkop" and "k-----" on facebook, which hit the news a year or two ago. It is an example of a movement labelled "civil rights" but meaning "Afrikaner rights".

Why is it then, that human rights groups say that women are degraded when they dance around in skimpy or no clothing, but say nothing when men are doing the exact same thing? I can't see why an audience appreciating naked men rather than naked women would be any less leering or dirty or exploitive.

Or are we falling back onto the thought that men should protect themsevles while women need help? If that's what people think, then aren't feminists correctly going bollock them for picturing women as reccessive and needy and unable to help themselves?

Or is it a single focus womens' rights movement, under the guise of human rights?

Perhaps the male stripping industry isn't huge in South Africa, but there is certainly a huge market for it internationally. So it is not a case of it happening so rarely that it's negligible.

And human rights are not negligible for any one person, even on one occasion. That's the entire point of them.

Don't think I am pissing on feminists or the movement they have carried out. I am certainly not. But I think it is worth fighting the full human rights battle, not just one. Focus on women, absolutely. But don't forget that what happens to women often happens to men too. Maybe not as a group, but certainly as individuals. And attack the source of the problem which fuels both exploited peoples.

Disclaimer: I am a feminist at heart, I know feminists and I don't think they do bad work or anything. Look at what they have achieved throughout history in terms of equality for women. I applaud them. I am NOT sitting here hating on feminists.

Perspectives

On Friday my car got broken into. They smashed my passenger window in and hakked my iPod (which was hidden away) inside. I got into a bit of a strop about it and had a good whinge and was just pretty fucked off.

Saturday night come, while I was whinging in someone's ear about my car being broken into and the loss of one mere possession...

While this was going on my sister was on her way back to town from the burbs. She was going about 60kph and she swerved to miss a dog that ran across the road. The island between the roads is at about 60 degrees, and in no time at all she lost control ads her car went up it. She smashed into a lamp post, scraped the complete shit out of the underneath of the car, and then drove into a tree which finally stopped her - she thinks her foot got jammed onto the accelerator during this whole shebang. Every air bag in the car went off, the bumper came off, mirrors broken off. She hit the tree so hard that her rear-view mirror fell off the windscreen. Cops at the scene said it is virtually impossible to have her accident and not roll a car there.

Somehow, she's fine.

All she has is a busted knee and a mark where the seatbelt caught her.

But it just goes to show you that a broken window ain't really that big of a deal, innit?

Misinterpretation

There is a game I played a few times in the UK - I think it is called Scattegories but I could be wrong. It is pretty much like 30 Seconds except you only have to get the people on your team to say one word. However, the hard bit is that written on the card are 5 words you may not use. For example, if the clue was elephant, you might not be able to say animal, trunk, dumbo, mammal or pachyderm while trying to explain the clue.

One day we were playing it and one of the chaps was trying to explain "Newcastle", as in the city in the UK. He pointed to Neil, one of our group who was from Newcastle, and said "Neil Neil Neil" excitedly. Pretty simple, you'd think. But no.

Niel is gay.

So while the oke was going "Neil Neil Neil" as his Newcastle clue, we were roaring back "gay", "homo", "poof", "fudge packer", "pillow-biter", "Elton John", "the Queen", "queer"...

Poor Neil. He sat there like someone had slapped him while we pissed ourselves laughing when we heard what the actual answer was.

Sadly, our 30 seconds ran out. And we didn't get the point for it.

We suck at talking to each other

Last night I was sitting with two Yanks and two Brits chatting about South Africa. One of the things that came up was the process of getting married in Zulu culture, specifically, the practice of lobola. One of the Yanks (Called Yank 1 fro now on) worked with/knew a Zulu woman who was about to get married and had told her that cattle were being passed around (apoplogies, I don't know the ins and outs of the process) for the purpose of her being married to some oke who she had been in a relationship with for a long time.


Yank 1 - who is very pleasant and NOT AT ALL the type of typical Sarah Palin charicature you may fall back on - then said that when she had spoken to the wife-to-be, and while doing so, asked the prospective marryer how much she herself (Yank1) would be worth, and whether it would be more than a chicken. Cue laughter from the other people at the table. Yank 1 then mentioned that the Zulu woman hadn't taken what she said in jest.


My reply was that I could see the Zulu woman's point of view. Someone foreign, white American nogal, was taking the piss out of a very important ritual for Zulu people. Yank 1 certainly did NOT mean anything malicious by it, nor was she trying to make a point. It was just something she had said as a joke. The Zulu woman evidently didn't see it as such, and it showed.


Yank 1 couldn't quite understand this. In fairness, I don't think many people who aren't Zulu (or have similar rituals) would.


I also think that Yank 1 doesn't know what it is like to have been on the receiving end of prejudice. I think it is key. Being prejudiced against makes one defensive.


What may have been meant in jest, was received as some kind of light form of imperialism.
What was intended as a joke was taken as a patronising observation.
What was probably intended as something jovial, was taken as a slight.


Being gay gives me a tiny insight into what it is like being on the receiving end of preconceived ideas, and I have become incredibly defensive before when I percieve a comment to be a slight on me or my peoples - anything that could be interpreted as your way is good and mine is bad or stupid or lame or evil or whatever.


And this reaction is not confined to Zulus and gays. Try Christians, Muslims, farmers, Afrikaners, handicapped folks, people with AIDS, traditional leaders, coloured folks, Durbanites, Jews, French people, New Zealanders, anyone who has ever supported the Lions, Scottish and Welsh people... the list goes on.


(Pretty much everyone except white athiests. They're a weird exception.)


So do I think Yank1 was wrong? No. I am saying that as a white American, she may not know how she is being perceived when jokingly comparing the ancient (black - it is a notable point) process of lobola against being bought for a chicken. And perhaps if the Zulu woman had explained why she felt like she did about it, things would be clearer.


In fact, if everyone spent more time thinking AND explaining, we'd be in a healthier place.


It reinforces the notion I have that we suck at talking to each other. People are never going to understand unless you tell them things. If you just expect them to know things, you're living in La La Land.

#PromCricket Match Report

And so they gathered under the hot African sun with the expectation of great cricket as the #promcricket Test series commenced. The team sheet looked like this:
Arcanius
Lesterkk
Simonwillo
RoxyAlexDallas (known as Roxy from now on)
TOMolefe (aka DarkNativeBoy and Ozzibuko)
Niels Himself and family
Heather
Franczeska
Carl
Paul

Due to short numbers, MvelaseP was promoted from drinks guarder to player
(Just so you know, the above crowd is a good reflection of South African society, and represents a multitude of races, genders, sexual orientations and ages. We did in one attempt what Cricket South Africa has been trying to do for years).

The start of the fixture was delayed initially because only three of us were there, and there was a security incident when two policemen, for safety reasons, ordered a change of venue (actually, we were playing on some sort of ball-game free section of the Promenade and they made us move, which was rather annoying).

Once the match began to progress, controversy struck as Arcanius was deemed to have used an illegal bat, which was one of the reasons he plonked us all over the park during his first innings where he saw off the pace threat of TOMolefe, the wily spinners of Lesterkk and the, erm, original bowling style of Roxy. Slowly but surely, the pressure began to toll until him and his giant bat were finally out after he had torn the bowling apart in the initial part of his innings. This whole episode followed TOMolefe’s ripping pacers terminating Simonwillo’s opening knock.

Lesterkk was next to show off his abilities as he began by attacking the spin threat of Simonwillo and deposited a few big blows over the leg side field. However, the innings was not to last as a beautifully timed cover drive ended up in the sea, and, due to his own rule, was declared out by the umpires (everyone else who was there). As he didn’t fetch the ball, like the laws of the game state, and wimped out from reterving it from the icy jaws of the Atlantic, he will get bedonnered in the fines meeting, scheduled for sometime in the future.

Niels, on his eighth or ninth smoke-free day was energetically throwing himself round the field as Simonwillo athletically guarded the stumps taking two excellent reflex one-hand-one-bounce catches. The pair of them also spoke a whole heap of shit while the game was in progress. Niels was particularly verbose when Roxy was diving around the field like a hybrid Jonty-Rhodes-sprinbok

Heather’s innings was brief but entertaining as she nearly hit the ball, and then the competition became fierce as Franczeska had to face up to none other than Carl, his boyfriend. In the battle of the couple, Carl had the first laugh as his slender textbook bowling action ended Franczeska’s adventurous innings, but the favour was returned in the next over as Carl, looking set for a long innings, did not actually have one due to the unpredictable deliveries from Franczeska.

Mvelasep, the travelling reserve surprised all as he smashed the ball around the park in an innings that took the other players by surprise, and included a great shot over mid on, past the diving Niels.

A scheduled drinks break signalled the end of the days play as the players were sitting in the sun and having a few beers, and it was just lovely.

In the end the players all shook hands and said goodbye because by then they needed a nap (Well I did).

So hopefully we see YOU at the second season of #promcricket when, once again, we will entertain ourselves with the JP Duminy cricket set, and each other.

#Promcricket update

Ok folks,

I may have recruited two cricket bats which is good news. At worst, we will use @arcanius' and just drop it before running. Niels might bring one too.

Also, @lesterkk brings up a good point. If you hit the ball over the boardwalk, you are 6 and out and you go and fucken swim and fetch it.

New additions, we have Heather from 24.com, some kiddies joining, @byronrode, @almackay, @magicmike1313. If you still want to come THEN DO! I haven't invited anyone specifically - everyone who reads this can come.

WE WILL MEET ACROSS THE ROAD FROM THE WINCHESTER MANSIONS.

I am not dishing out my phone number, I am afraid. You just have to find me from 12.30 on the Promenade across from the Winchester Mansions.

Bring your A-game and booze. I am not bringing anything.

PS, if it rains we can just go to the pub across the road and get trollied.

#PromCricket

Hello folks.

As I suck at organising things, I only found my list of RSVPs for #promcricket today.

This is who I have who has RSVPed:

Confirmed:
1) @franczeska
2) @RoxyAlexDallas
3) @lesterkk
4) Kimmefruit (Letterdash)
5) @TOMolefe
6) @Mohebo
7) Mos Native (Letterdash)
8) Antoinette (forgot twitter name -sorry)
9) Niels Himself (Leterdash)
10) @franczeska's +1
11) @lesterkk's +1
12) @lesterkk's +another 1

Maybes:
- @dyled
- @BobMabena (or @Bob_Mabena I can't remember)
- @brendan_l
- Bernard (Letterdash)
- @arcainius

And the booze will be looked after by @Mvelase_P

REMINDER:
Garden cricket rules apply.
First ball to be bowled abetween 12.30 and 1.

REQUESTS:
Does anyone have cricket bats and/or tennis/slaz balls?

A heroine of mine

I don't care much for famous people, to be completely honest. I have very few role models that I don't know in some sense. I have always based my personal growth and inspiration on those I can access and be interactive with. In a blogging sense, I gravitate toward those I can learn from - you know who you are - some of whom I get to appreciate in person too. In a real life sense I spend time with some amazing writers with whom I work, some well-versed political folks, some people who just know a lot of stuff, some who have overcome difficult circumstances.

For me, these are my role models.

Except for one person who I admire from afar. Today I was quite surprised at how sad I felt when I read that Martina Navratilova was diagnosed with breast cancer. This fucking disease has infected thousands upon thousands of people, but it really struck me today just how it can smack anyone.

Image from sportige.com

Martina Navratilova has always been a hero of mine. In my view, while everyone wanks over Roger Federer, I think she is the greatest tennis player of all time. The battles she fought were fairly difficult - she crossed the Iron Curtain to go and live in the US, where she was deeply unpopular due to her original country, as well as her open homosexuality. And she was booed and booed and booed, but she destroyed opponents before her. Her record is incomparable in professional tennis.

She beat every bloody thing that came her way, even winning a French Open mixed doubles title at the age of 52.

She fought and she won, and she fought and she won. And now she has to fight through 6 weeks of radiation therapy. She's got to fight and win again.

Jesus.

I am sure she will come through it. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't really sad about it.

It seems that Martina Navratilova is my Elvis.

Promenade cricket

Calling all Capetonians!

I declare it that we require a little get-together before winter kicks in and our lives suck for a few months.

It is for this reason that I declare it neccesary to have a cricket match on the Sea Point Promenade with all who feel like joining.

Garden cricket rules will apply. This means:
- one-hand, one-bounce (to facilitate holding of beer can)
- tip and run (so we can get the really good people out)
- electric wickets, but only if we have a few people. If we sort out two teams and have enough players for two batters then this doesn't apply.
- we will be using TENNIS balls

This will be on the 17th of April at midday. The first delivery will be bowled sometime between 12.30pm and 13.00.

You NEED to RSVP so I can see how many people are keen. All we basically need is even numbers. Guys and girls are welcome, as are kids, I suppose.

RSVP here: simonwillo83@gmail.com -- email me by like the 14th of April.

AND COME AND JOIN US!

The hashtag on twitter will be #promcricket provided by @6000

By the way, beverages are encouraged. Bring your own drinks and food and stuff.

Spot the SA tourist

Back when I lived in Florence (Firenze, to those of us in the know) I used to often walk around the central part of the city because I found it so stunning. My favourite was to walk around il Duomo - the Cathedral - right in the centre of town and listen to the excited batches of tourists raving about the stunning building.

Image from Virtualtourist.

I walked past groups of Americans, loudly exclaiming their wonderment "OH MY GAWD - this is AMAZING!"

British tourists, noses in guidebooks would quietly rave "Goodness Geoffrey, I can't believe it is so beautiful. Look at the ornate detail".

As I rounded the building I walked past a group of three guys, one of whom happened to shout as I past. "Fuck bru, that thing's HUUUGE!"

Yep - we're easy to notice overseas.

Whingy white woman

I spent this morning at home affairs renewing my passport – a slow, yet easy-to-do process. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with my form and photos when I got there so I just asked someone and was pointed to the right place. As I was sitting in the queue to get my finger prints done a white woman with a snooty handbag and glitzy fake stone things on her sandals began bitching at the woman behind the till at the cashier line.

In that nasal accent, so prevalent in Sandton City (even though the setting of our story is in Cape Town) she screeched that she didn’t know which queue to stand in - she had obviously reached the front of the wrong one. Admittedly, there was no sign saying “cashier”, but the presence of a giant till was a bit of a giveaway, and all the other queues were marked things like “PASSPORT APPLICATIONS” and “ID APPLICATIONS” which I found self-explanatory. She obviously didn’t.

Instead of asking someone where to stand, or reading the simply-articulate signs, she decided to have a whinge at the home affairs staff, communicate her queue-frustration at anyone within hearing distance and refuse to solve her problem by asking someone where to stand. I looked around home affairs and not one other person was lost, confused or had lost the ability to ask a question along the lines of “where should I go?”.

This Chardonnay-swigging, Woollies-omnivore tart was INCENSED that the queues and arrows were not displayed in, on her terms, a satisfactory manner.

Home affairs sucks. It is a shitty horrible place to be. It is drab, dirty and depressing and a mission. No one wants to be there, particularly on a Saturday morning. And it is like that all the time. Eventually I got to the point where I wanted to ring her pearled (not in the fun way) neck to stop her squeaky rantings which, as she got more frantic, were at a perilous frequency that made the dogs in the Cape Town city bowl begin barking. In fact I think some of the windows in Barrack Street were in danger.

Sit and deal with it! AND SHUT UP!

An interesting... party alliance

I am sure you are all aware of events hapening in opposition politics in South Africa. Recently, the Democratic Alliance, United Democratic Movement, Independent Democrats and Congress of the People all had a chinwag and decided to put up a united front to the ANC. Honorouble in its intentions, but it is unclear what path they are going to take - parrticularly in light of conflicting philosophies.



However, if we can assume for the purposes of this post that the parties agreed on policy - considering Cope have none, that shouldn't be too hard for them - there are a few options for them. One is a solid working agreement against the ANC - but, really, is that any different to what is going on now?



Another is coalition politics - this was key in wrestling the city of Cape Town from ANC control and having Helen Zille take over as mayor, leading to huge success in the Western Cape in the 2009 elections, where the DA now rules.



However, there is a possibility that the four parties will unite into one alliance and play the part of one party. This is what many people seem to be excited about, but I think we should be weary. As much as people may swear for a political party, many South Africans vote against the ANC. And with over 65% of the electorate, nabbing at least 15 of the ANC's percentage points of that is key in making us a stronger democracy.



Here come the mass generalisations...



Should the parties unite, serious questions will be asked as to who will lead it. None of de Lille, Zille, Holomisa or Shilowa/Lekota will want to be the numbers 2-4 in the party. In fact, Cope have been arguing for the best part of 18 months as to who will lead them. I fear that if Helen Zille is the party's number 1, black votes will remain with the ANC and the united effort will look only very slightly different to how the DA looks now, and then where will Cope's 8% of the vote share go?



No matter what happens with this alliance, white people will continue to vote for it. There is no alternative to the DA for the majority of white voters, as the staunchly conservative and right-wing FF+ is in bed with the ANC - who many vote against. Helen Zille is enough of a brand that pale folks will continue to vote for whichever party she stands with. I still think that Cope is the hottest and most underused political hot property in the country right now, and I am excited about what they can do if they ever come up with a policy, differentiate themselves and choose a damn leader - parties need faces - and although I reckon Lekota would initially be my pick, it SHOULD be Mbhazima Shilowa who is far more marketable - and if this alliance becomes anything, he should head that too. Holimisa comes with a lot of baggage - he was top dog of a homeland and turfed out the ANC, and quite frankly, you hardly ever hear of his party - even in the Eastern Cape. I know Patricia de Lille is well-known in SA politics, and I like her, but I am not sure she is enough to boost this party enormously.And her and Holomisa only have 8 seats in Parliament combined... whereas the DA has 67 and Cope has 30.



Fact: This alliance will only ever be a success if it takes black votes from the ANC. But I have a sneaky feeling that Cope have the potential to do that on their own anyway, should they ever sort themsevles out. Their scope for growth in the short-term is huge, wheras the DA's outside the Western Cape is not - their next best performance in 2009 was in Gauteng where they achieved just over 22%.



So if this alliance is going to be a success, it needs Patricia's continual stance on poverty and anti-corruption, the DA's organisation and balls, the UDM's (insert whatever you can think of) and Cope's potential.

To Cope in South Africa

Twitter was alight this morning with debates about Cope and their attempted, yet very-predictably-doomed-to-failure, vote of no confidence in President Jacob Zuma yesterday.

Some said that the no confidence motion was a desperate attempt at PR for Cope. This I would agree with - and I don't think anything is wrong with a political party searching for PR and new reaports - that's the way politics, particularly opposition politics, works. The DA does it all the time.

However, the motion was too late. A month ago, the country was crucifying Jacob Zuma because of his affair with Irvin Khoza's daughter - that included senior and junior ANC members and MPs who were criticising him. A week later it came out that he had no declared his financial interests to parliament and he got more criticism. Vavi soon launched into the ANC and the ANCYL ordering lifestyle audits. The SACP began a (nother) spat with the ANCYL who in turn made it clear that they want Gwede Mantashe replaces as ANC Secretary General by Fikile Mbalula. This was when Cope dreamed up their PR stunt - in this midst of this chaos.

However, since then, JZ went to London where he was castigated by that pathetic attempt at a newspaper - the Daily Mail - and all of a sudden people began defending him. Yes, even WHITE people! Cope's no confidence motion laagered the ANC and united - albeit temporarily - the party when it was looking to possibly splinter naturally.

And so the no confidence motion didn't do so well - for more than one reason. (EDIT - I am not saying it would have worked. JZ would never have been sacked, but a "succesful" result for Cope would have been favourable press, and hopefully a few members of the ANC would have turned on their own party)

Cope's biggest problem is that they have so many holes in their party. No matter what Cope says - meaningful, accurate or just made up - anyone can retort with "You still hanker after Mbeki" or "We may have problems, but you don't even know who your leader is". Cope also have no apparent policies, other then the forceful message of non-racialism which has failed dismally as two prominent white politicians have stormed out (ok, admittedly one is prominent because he has represented almost every political party in SA, and the other because she was the first instance of gratuitous white window dressing) . I remember Lekota going on about how BEE should be aimed at currently disadvantaged, not historically disadvantaged people. Well that message has never been communicated properly.

Cope's other major issue is that no one knows who runs the party. Is it Lekota (who has vanished)? Shilowa (who makes more noise than anyone else)? Mluleki George (who asked the offending question in Parly that caused Diane Kohler-Barnard to use the term I emphasise when the Sharks play rugby)? Or Dandala (whose face is on the election ballot, but that's about all)?



Cope's issues can be solved by simple marketing and logic.

- Firstly, stop the infighting and choose a damn leader. Do that today.And then put their face on an election ballot and in newspapers and TV.

- Secondly, there is a niche (more like gaping chasm) for a non-racial alternative to the ANC and the DA. Find it.

- Thirdly, get rid of all the Mbeki baggage. All of it. Dump it now. Otherwise people will point at you and bring it up all the things he did badly forever. The ANC has enough brand power, and political clout, to deal with it. You do not. Stop being the "We lost in Polokwane" party.

- Make your own policies. In many people's minds you are nothing more than the ANC with a different name and a nasty temper-tantrum like demeanour. Start shouting about HOW you are different to them, not just that you are.

Should life be a musical?

Myself and @ramblerclive had an amusing conversation on facebook a few years ago. This is how it went:

Simon Willo see? life should be a musical. then everything ALWAYS has a happy ending :)

Clive Rambler except Carousel

Simon Willo oh so there's an exception or two...

Clive Rambler yep... you seen carousel... her husband kills himself in the end and then they all sing"You'll never Walk Alone"... Lovely stuff
Can you tell I'm still in my pit of depression?

Simon Willo hmmmm... and in Moulin Rouge Nicole Kidman dies too...
Ok so maybe musicals wasn't such a great theme...

Clive Rambler Yes.. she dies while he sings "Come What May"
And in Grease Sandy starts smoking at the end so she'll probably die too...

Simon Willo And in the Sound of Music they still have to leave their home and move to Switzerland which is a really expensive country and they have no income because Captain von Trapp lost his job and Maria doesn't exactly have much work experience. So they will be homeless...

Clive Rambler Exactly... so they'll probably die...
And Evita dies...

Yes, Simon... why can't life be a musical?

Simon Willo In Jesus Christ Superstar he was crucified!
OMG what have I done?

Clive Rambler yes... he died too... but apparently he came back to life ... like the girl in Rent... so maybe all is not lost...

Simon Willo ok so maybe musicals aren't a good analogy for life.
let me think up another tactic... that one failed miserably.

Clive Rambler It was fun!

Simon Willo just to point out... Christine and Raul still hooked up at the end of Phantom, so they were happy, and Joseph's whole family got to move to Egypt and eat as much as they wanted during the 7 years of famine... so they were happy too...

Clive Rambler Yah, but she hooked up with a dude witha deformed face and with the way he sings he's probably gay... and lets not forget that Joseph's family first starved and the dad thought Joseph was dead. So he was depressed and malnourished. Eating probably made him die sooner... and Joseph wore make-up after meeting the Egyptians. Fag.

Simon Willo so there is nothing wrong with a couple of homos... musicals were designed around us. Joseph looked much hotter with make-up btw... Joseph's family had a bad run but still had a happy ending. At least his dad died with a full tummy and was happy knowing his son was alive.

There is no way Phantom was gay. He would ...never have looked like that if he was. He would have turned to plastic surgery sooner and wouldn't wear black all the time.

Plane noisy juveniles

There is nothing that can make me angry like a noisy child can. Recently, my flight was delayed and I spent an extra four hours in the airport, took off at 00:45 and landed around 02:30am. Awesome huh?

Add a screeching juvenile sitting behind me. I nearly had a stroke.

I fail to understand parents who let their kid bawl and scream and perform when others are stuck in the situation with them. Like an aeroplane or a train. In fact, I was on my way home the other day, sharing a plane row with a woman bearing very loud spawn which blatantly ignored the bellows being voluptuously expressed by putting her iPod on and drowning her very own irritant out - for herself only. The rest of us had to endure her product for the rest of our journey.

I don't expect draconian control of the products of one's loins, nor do I think it is realistic for a child to be silent all the time (outside my Utopia). I also get that kids just get pissy sometimes, and they are noisy things. But do I have a right to get angry and/or irritable when children are kicking up a fuss and the parents are doing nothing about it? Yes, I think I do.

I do not, for one second, believe that parenting is an easy job that can be done with any kind of flippant attitude that I am displaying right now. And I am not typing the solutions or proffering any kind of non-parent-scribed patronising advice - particularly from a person that has never been in charge of anything more important that a glass bottle of gin, nor noisier than a television.

The point I am making is that I have a right to be irritated when someone else's child is making a noise, the decibels of which are greater than a constantly-regurgitating Maria Sharapova snort.

So how can we come to a happy medium? My suggestion that children, other than going to school, are left at home until age 16 would probably not suffice, and is as extreme as letting them all run wild, like an infestation of noisy and unconquerable ants.

Is a happy medium a quiet kid? Is it an iPod for non-parents? Is it perhaps to sit people travelling with children together on an aeroplane? Is it more patience on my behalf?

Lest I offend all parents, let me make it quite clear that when I point fingers, I point them at myself too. I get as annoyed by constantly barking dogs, my neighbour's angle grinder (I swear, it must be his hobby to carve things up) and the noise of the extractor fan in my kitchen. I am not standing here as a paragon of quietus virtue, condemning all of those who breed or make noise.

What I seek is an active solution to prevent me from hiding your kids' oxygen masks, should there be a sudden loss of cabin pressure.