There’s Too Much Salt In My Tea.

It’s been a really, really rough few weeks. And as I type this I can imagine a few eye rolls, because given the greater issues that millions of people face in our country every day, this may all seem relatively trivial, but like anything, when stuff starts to add up and compound, it can all feel like a little bit too much.

If someone had to make you a cup of tea, and sneak one small grain of salt into it, you would drink the tea and think it was lovely. The next day, should that person add 2 grains of salt, you probably still wouldn’t notice a difference. But slowly, if the amount of salt added to your tea increased, then very soon your tea would be soured and undrinkable.

My teacup has too much salt.

About a month ago my husband went through some really ugly stuff with work. And that’s pretty much all I can say. But it was enough to really put a dampener on our spirits and set a rather sad foundation for the situation. At that same time, we had to rush him to hospital where he needed an emergency appendectomy. The surgery went fine and he’s recovered well from his 1/3 C section (which I like to remind him of daily). A week after that though, we had some exciting news – our long-awaited house renovations were finally starting. Much excitement as windows got knocked away and ground got broken. But less than 12 hours after, we were woken at 3 am to the sounds of intruders in or on our roof. It’s funny, nothing happened and no one got in our home (apart from half a security guard who fell through the ceiling when on the hunt for these criminals) but I felt terribly afraid. Suddenly a break-in was more than just a threat to Barry and me, it was a threat to our two-year-son who lay in bed with me while strange mean ran along our roof, asking what the noise was.

Violated, but unharmed, life went on, until 3 days later when we arrived home to find out that our electricity had been accidentally cut off. On the coldest day of the year. This was 5 days ago and we have still not been reconnected. Again, thousands of people in or country live without electricity every single day, but it has just been one little blow, one small grain of sand, after the other, and I am exhausted. This also means we have lost all power to our beams, alarm system, gate and fridge. We are bathing over pots of water and lying wide-awake listening for more feet on the roof and more sounds in the garden. The alarm is trickle charging on the generator for a few hours every night and dies early hours of every morning. We have a ritual of a midnight trek to the garden – I stand waving a solar powered jar looking for baddies while Barry pours Valpre bottles of petrol into the generator. He then lies in the lounge listening for sounds while I attempt another 2 hours of sleep. There has been only one night since Monday where a siren hasn’t triggered, where we haven’t had a security guard knocking on our window and where we haven’t lain awake for hours on end wondering if tonight is the night someone actually gets in to the house.

I am sick and tired of it. I am tired of being a good person and paying my bills and living responsibly only to have incompetent government and municipal institutions carry on with their inefficient ways. There is no accountability. I’m tired of spending our hard earned renovation money on CCTV and electric fencing upgrades and UPS systems instead of taps and tiles and paint. I’m tired of wondering how I am every going to explain this to my son. I’m tired of arriving home to a black hole in my suburb, not knowing what lies in or around. I am tired of everything always being a fight. I am so tired of salty tea.

And I know, when the power does eventually get restored and life returns to ‘normal’ that this will be forgotten, and life will carry on, but for now? I’m angry and cross. Not just for me but for our whole country – a country who is subject to archaic, sulky and incompetent processes and governance.

 

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I am a racist.(A stolen story)

This is not my article, it was written by a South African woman ‘The Frida Factor’ but I read it and found it so thought-provoking, relevant and important, that I had to share it with the readers of my blog. The original article is posted here Would love to hear your feedback.

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A South African artist called Brett Murray has been causing a huge stir since his painting of South Africa’s president titled The Spear was put up in  a local gallery. The ANC have worked themselves up into a total frothy about the painting and their biggest issue with it – It’s racist. ???????

Disrespectful, maybe. Rude, maybe. But racist???

That little word that has become the political whip with which the ANC work the masses up into angry mobs and riots anytime something happens that they don’t like. And it’s becoming really really tiring.

In South Africa, the word racist has lost it’s original meaning and now only get’s used to describe a white person doing something a black person doesn’t like. You never hear it used in any other context. You can’t say to a black CEO that he is racist because he won’t hire white people, no – he’s just making sure that only blacks get hired because of BEE. You can’t call a university racist because they won’t accept an application from a white student with straight A’s for 8 subjects – instead taking on a black student who barely passed matric. Nope, they’re not racist, they’re just correcting the wrongs of the past. But god forbid you do hire the white person or you do admit the white student, you’ll be branded racist by the government quicker that you can say “colour shouldn’t be the issue here” because how dare you choose a white person over a black person in a democratic South Africa.

Most of the time when you are a white person and you call your fellow countrymen to be held accountable for their unacceptable words and actions such as corruption, nepotism, fraud, theft, you’ll be branded a racist.

Today, I shouted at a taxi driver who pushed in-front of me nearly driving me into the curb with no regard for the fact that I have a child in the car – I must be a racist, because only racists care about road safety it would seem.

I complained to the manager of my bank because the woman handling my account is so incompetent and hasn’t responded to one email or message I’ve left her for over 2 months!  Nevermind that my account is about to be shut down because of FICA. I must be a racist then because only racists expect service from a bank and stupidly think an organisation is going to actually do the job they promise to do in all their marketing material.

The other day my husband confronted a woman outside a shopping centre after she carelessly threw her fast food packet on the floor less than 10cm from a dustbin. Her response – “you’re just a racist”. Yes, you’re absolutely right, because only racists care about keeping their city clean and litter free.

I fired a lady who worked for me once because I caught her rummaging through one of my cupboards and she had taken my passport and other belongings which I found in her bag. Her only response – “you’re a racist”. Yes, yes I am. Because only racists think that stealing is a criminal offense and is done by people with no morals or conscience.

I swear being a white person in this country can be very bloody exasperating at times. The ANC has brainwashed the masses with this little word – racist – to the point that it’s actually completely lost its meaning and now get’s used totally out of context. Most days I just let it pass and I don’t go into effect of it. But today is not one of those days. Today I’m angry and today I’m sick and tired of it.

I’m not shouting at you because you’re black, I’m shouting because you’re a maniac on the roads who is a danger to society.

I’m not complaining to your manager because you’re black. I’m complaining because you’re an incompetent moron who is incapable of doing her job properly.

I’m not firing you because you’re black. I’m firing you because you’re a thief.

I’m not confronting you because your black, I’m shouting at you because you’re a messy pig who expects other people to clean up your mess.

Please get over yourselves and move out the way of the remarkably amazing black people who DO take total responsibility and who actually want this country to work for ALL the people who live in it.

If being a racist in this country means that I will stand up for my rights, fight for what is fair and true and hold everyone around me accountable for their words and actions, then I am a racist through and through. If being a racist means that I believe in freedom of speech and expression and that everyone’s point of view is relevant, no matter what colour, age or sex, then I will proudly announce to all who can hear that I am a racist. If being a racist means that I believe we should all be treated with the same rules and consequences and that no-one, especially not the President, is above the law and exempt from criminal prosecution when that law has been broken, then print me a t-shirt saying “I am a racist” and I will wear it in the streets. If being a racist means that I will not stand idly by while the few, corrupt pigs in the ANC rape this country for everything they can get with no regard for the poor and the homeless and the uneducated, then I’ll get I’m a racist tattooed on my back.

Mr Zuma and the ANC – you need to get a different vocabulary. Instead of shouting at someone like Brett Murray about a painting being offensive, maybe you should be asking yourselves why he painted it in the first place. Instead of wanting to take Zapiro to court every time he depicts the president & his shower head in one of his cartoons, why don’t you stop to realise that there is truth in everything he draws and that your angry responses are really due to the fact that he keeps hitting a nerve that’s a little too close to home.

Maybe, Mr Zuma, it’s time to take a long, hard look in the mirror. If you were honest with yourself  you’d see that people actually have very little respect for you because you have lied and cheated your way through your Presidency. You have been involved with more seedy, corrupt criminals than Horatio Cane and you have abused funds for personal gain. You have raped, lied, stolen, protected evil men and weezled your way out of prosecution and you wonder why people continue to take the piss out of you in the media and treat you with utter contempt. Even the great Oliver Tambo’s daughter doesn’t think much of you based on what she had to say about the painiting: “He should inspire the reverence he craves. This portrait is what he inspired”

You Mr Zuma and your ANC are a bunch of CANTS!

CAN’T let go of the past
CAN’T operate in your life without breaking the rules
CAN’T find your integrity with a map and a flashlight and a tour guide (unless you pay them off).
CAN’T treat women with any kind of respect
CAN’T obey the laws of this country
CAN’T stop operating from a place of revenge and hate for what’s happened in the past
CAN’T find a way forward with no agenda or payoff
CAN’T stop putting family members in government positions for which they are not qualified
CAN’T stop the out of control corruption that is rife throughout every government department
CAN’T stop getting involved in shady, underhanded deals
CAN’T seem to get the education right in this country
CAN’T say goodbye of Affirmative Action and BEE which is ruining businesses across this land

But what do I know?

I’m just a white girl talking about a black man.

I must be a racist

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