My little racist brother

I am driving in my car past a location - township.

I see 10 little black children sitting next to the road huddled around a box.

My immediate thoughts are: will they kill the puppies in the box after severely abusing them or will they use the kittens they caught to knit a life blanket after which they will slowly club them to death like innocent baby seals.

I drive on and hate my thoughts. Why do I think this?

But it probably true - again - Why do I think this?

I pull over and turn around.

I will go back and say hello while having a look in the box.

20 Rand - 1 euro - will set these puppies free.

Imagine my instagram post: A selfie with a box full of puppies

with the caption: 

These guys saved by the bell #IamABell #Lucky #PuppiesOfInstagram #IamAHero #AllBecauseOfMyRacistThinking

My last # wouldn't make the cut. 

If I saw a group of white children play with a box in a middle class area my thought would have been: great to see a group of young future engineers and doctors experiment with this box. #kidsAreCute #DamnThisPartOfTownIsGorgeous

I went back.

I had a chat with these kids. They were playing with an empty box. #losersOfInstagram #Me

I don't like my little racist brother living inside my head. I will try to stop feeding him. If in doubt I shall chose to engage with people.  

#NoPostOnInstagram

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Culture shock

I am a passport holding European. I live in Africa. I love Africa.

I see myself as a pale African. I belong here. In a continent of conflict - in a continent of love - in a continent of life

But once in a while I go back to my 'mother'land. I visit the poor bastards who believe vitamin D starvation is natural, who believe that three days sun in a row is a great summer, who believe white people can dance...

I have never been so angry. I fumed for days. I needed to be calmed down. I wanted to punch some lovely people in the head. - I didn't

I met European entitlement.

Entitlement is a word I have always associated with Africa. Mainly in a context of middle class people telling me how unreasonable the poor are for wanting running water, housing, free schooling, education, hospitals...

I often choose to agree. I have become more capitalist than socialist by living in Africa. It keeps me sane. It justifies my life in a context of massive poverty. - I worked for it, so should they.

In Europe, I met unemployed people who have yearly holiday from looking for work.

You hear this right. People who are doing nothing take holiday from doing nothing to do ---- NOTHING!!!

And this is ok - I guess

But the people in the system expect this.

The expectations are sky high. And with this people can only be disappointed.

In Africa we celebrate the small 'normalities'. In Europe we lament the small 'defects'.

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Cannabis Honey

When I was a youth worker, I was often confronted by older people with complaints about my young people.

I always disagreed. Young people are awesome. They have dreams. They believe they can change the world. They often do.

Older people however, have always freaked me out. They seem too smooth. Smooth is never good. Unless you are a life insurance salesman... which is also not good. So never!

I finally have proof of my ever present suspicion towards the elderly.

I was invited to do a talk at a local walking club about Beekeeping in South Africa. They were a lovely bunch of people. The average age was rather high.  Here I can add that my grey hair blended in nicely.

After I finished my presentation, people showed their real colours. 10% of the 'congregation' asked me about CANNABIS HONEY. (10% was 4 people)

Can it be made? Yes - excited smile

Does it have 'Healing' powers? Not sure - a look of disgust with my no knowledge

Do I have it? No - disappointing eyes

Where can I get it? ... - a look of craving and desperation

One older gent asked me if I would put beehives in a cannabis field to pollinate the flowers and produce cannabis honey?

He assured me it wasn't for himself but a friend of his.

When I told him I can put my hives anywhere he asked for my phone number.

Old people are the new problem. The youth is fine. Leave them alone.

Rather worry about those smooth elderly...

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The curse of private education and medical health

I have private medical aid. My children go to a government school which is not free.

I live a good life. I live a comfortable life.

I am mid 30ies so my life resolves around planning my future, starting new projects, sustaining old ones, raising the two most wonderful kids... I live a busy life.

The busyness of life makes me disconnect with the struggles of the people around me. As a white middle class pale African, I realize that my life is very good compared to the world average. My life is also great compared to the South African average.

Our government is pretty useless. Our president is corrupt and seems to only care about enriching himself and those who help him in this endeavour. He has embezzled money and has no regard for the constitution of our country. Many of our basic government institutions are failing.

I have noticed that I don't really engage in the fight for better governing as I have found ways to make my life comfortable by just throwing a few extra Bucks (read - Many Rands) on the table. I can live the life of a king in a country of poor.

I think this is the curse of being middle class. We have power to change our country. Politicians are more likely to listen to a group of business men and woman than to another riot in the locations. My compromise in paying extra for services I already pay for in rates and taxes gives our politicians another chance to get away with ignoring the problems we have.

We should not have to pay for medical aid, education, private security... If the government did their job all should be serviced with the taxes and rates we pay.

Zuma, it's time to go!

I will not stand by and see you run this country straight into hell.

But before I engage, let me first jump in my comfy car to take my overly cared miniature schnauzer for a walk on a beautiful beach to forget all the crap around me...

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Cancer

I am slightly 'beneuk' - read overly scared - of getting cancer.

When I found out that I had three new brown spots on my back I got seriously worried. I tried to make light of it, but my mind kept thinking the worst.

My mind is my most powerful muscle. Unfortunately it's not been trained very well.

I started thinking about a world without me. I started planning my estate. My mind started projecting all my unfulfilled dreams on the sky canvas around me. All this for three 5mm spots on my back.

My mom is a doctor so I got her to have a look at my back over skype. Note to self: Computer camera's are not the most accurate broadcasters of details.

She concluded that her conclusion was inconclusive.

She told me I should go and find a second opinion and that - by the way - many skin cancers are not easily treatable. Why did she have to add that last bit.

All this happened on a public holiday so the doctors locally are closed. I nearly went to emergency. Imagine this: people with shot wounds, car accidents, kidney failures and me with my three brown spots.

However in my mind this was quickly becoming an emergency.

The following day I got up and made an appointment with the doctor. The doctor was conclusive in telling me that the spots are signs of getting older. Like I need spots to tell me that. He convinced me that seeing a doctor was the right thing.

But he would that's how he gets paid.

So I'll live to fight another day.

Oh and the three spots got burned off. Serves them just right little scary bastards.

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Your naughty child

It happens to some of us. We will deny it in public, but we know deep down that it's true.

You have the naughtiest child in the class. You made it. You put it in the class. And now you have to carry the consequences of those foolish acts.

You'd expect people to understand your hardship. You want people to show you some mercy. They surely know it's not your fault. You are wrong. People like to judge. They will not let you off the hook lightly. Their accusing glances will haunt you wherever your paths cross.

Here is a guide for parents who unlike me have the naughtiest child of the class.

Firstly, brand your school run car in your oppositions brand. People will start hating the opposition. Suddenly your child might turn in a money spinner. And we all know that money makes us happy!

Secondly, whenever the school organises an event, send 'new' people to the happenings. Granddad to the school sleepover, mom to the parent evening, granny to the musical, dad to the sports day and aunty to the yearly tidily winks circus. You will keep people guessing who 'that' child belongs to.

Thirdly, delete yourself off the nowadays compulsive class whatsapp group. Class whatsapp groups are the gangrene of our society. For all the practical sharing there are ten dismissive and divisive comments.

To make this invaluable post even more invaluable: delete yourself of most maybe all whatsapp groups. Whatsapp groups are evil, useless and complete time wasters.

If you feel these three golden tips do not change your naughty child problem enough. You can put it up for adoption. There are many desperate couples out there who can easily be tricked in having your kid. Desperate people don't see the truth, they live in denial.

There you go. Another problem solved in your life.

No need to thank me.

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A story of two Countries

I am busy exploring a new business venture.

The basic idea is to ship raw materials from Europe to Africa for processing. There after, for the processed product to be exported again. It should be a simple process or so I thought this would be.

As the raw product is agricultural, I have to deal with the Department of Agriculture.

I wanted to do this project in South Africa. This is home. This has however shown to be very challenging.

I have made numerous calls to different people who have all proven to be extremely unhelpful.

The answers I got have ranged from:  "Eish, I don't know" to "I truly could not care about what you do". The indifference to a potentially good job creating project has stunned me.

But then why would well paid officials care about creating jobs and opportunities?

So I gave up on South Africa and decided to try our neighbouring Namibia. I made one phone call which got me the number of the Government Department Director.

He was in a meeting with a minister so I was asked to send an email. I feared another African reply (read No reply) but to my surprise he replied within 1 hour of receiving my mail. I was shocked - I am still in shock.

So I shall keep exploring opportunities on the continent I fell in love with, but I will no longer be restrained by a slow and frustrating bureaucratic system.

Goodbye South Africa - Hello Africa

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Soul Travelling

Darkness surrounds - it captures

Hope feels years away

The lesson not to give up has to be relearned

Every day Every moment

Pain is the only constant

Yet the soul keeps travelling on a road knowing that one ray of change will light it all

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Blueberry trial in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. Part 3

Year One Evaluation:

Currently, the plants are 18 months old. This is a short evaluation on their growth. I removed all their fruit.

Sharpblue: Healthy growth, developed a nice spread of branches.

Dixi: The majority of the plants died, there is hardly any growth with the surviving plants, the worst performer by far. I have very little hope that they will come right.

Powder Blue: I thought Powder Blue and Misty would be great varieties, but they have not performed well. There has been very little growth and both have lost a few plants. These two are my biggest disappointments.

Misty: See Powder blue

Centurion: Has performed better than expected. I wasn't sure about getting Centurion full stop, but they are my third best performer. Their growth has been slow but steady. They are delicate beautiful little plants with olive shaped light green leaves.

Brightwell: Just beating Sharpblue for the price of variety of the year. They have grown well and are healthy. The tallest one grew from 10cm to exactly 60cm tall. there has been very little spreading of the branches. Tall and straight has been their motto.

Chandler: I rescued my chandlers from an abusive home. They have struggled to get going. The majority died. I don't see them being great performers in the future, but time will tell. My remaining chandlers are also looking sick.

Without taking the fruit into consideration, I would bet on a Sharpblue, Brightwell and Centurion orchard, but the real test will be next spring to see what the fruiting per variety will look like.

  

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Letting go

I let my first member of staff go.

I fired him.

It feels terrible. It feels really wrong.

This is not why one pours his or her life in a startup. I want to create job. I want to see people thrive and reach their potential.

But with G this didn't work out.

I hired G in December. His family back ground is complicated. His dad was murdered. His family are very poor. Life is hard.

Since he started working he has missed work on so many occasions I had to do something as it was affecting the morale of my staff.

I think he has a drugs or/and alcohol problem. I organised a place in rehab for him. The councillors of the rehab told me that I cannot change him. He needs to make the first step by acknowledging his addiction.

Against my labours consultants advice I asked G if he had an addiction. I asked if I could help.

He turned me down. He turned help down, an opportunity to start again.

I wonder where he will end up. He is a good man. As struggling man, but aren't we all struggling in some way.

Be blessed G. Travel the journey of life well. May you find freedom. 

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