Brutality to Aliens

Karl commented that he's recently seen the film 'District 9' and jokingly remarked: 'Is it true that South Africans were so awful to aliens?'.

So I got to thinking about South Africans and why 'District 9' was made. You'll probably know some of this, but I'm hoping to give an insider perspective.

Violence against foreigners from elsewhere in Africa has been with us for many years. It was believed (though why I can't say) that it would decrease after liberation (1994). Perhaps I could have told them something different, but that's in retrospect, and hindsight is a wonderful thing.

South Africa is sometimes called the 'Europe of Africa'. We have the strongest economy, the best infrastructure, a concentration of natural resources. Its no wonder that we attract a lot of immigrants and refugees from elsewhere in Africa.

At the moment, for instance, we have over three million refugees from Zimbabwe alone. At the same time, we've got 40% unemployment, and once these foreigners are here, they want to work. Not only do they want to work, they're also willing to do so for less than the locals. So who gets the jobs?

Its no wonder that African immigrants are seen as 'cuckoos in the nest'. The other side of the coin is that some of these immigrants are good businessmen. They open shops especially in the poorer areas. They're helpful, they make life easier for people - Somalians are particularly well-known as shop-owners. Because they're good businessmen, they offer better prices. They're well-liked, but there are jealousies involved.

All of this festered into an almighty explosion in 2008, when riots in various parts of the country cost 60 lives, shops were looted, buildings were burned and African immigrants went in fear.

Give people a 'reason' to riot and loot (especially the looting), make it appear 'justified and noble' and there's no shortage of folks who'll participate. A worker on this farm related that she had to restrain her children from joining in the 'fun' during 2008. This is a woman who has raised her children to respect others, a person whose values are unsurpassed. How many others couldn't resist the urge to grab some free goods from the Somalians while the grabbing was 'good' and everyone was doing it?

When the 2008 xenophobia riots happened, I was in Sweden on an international course. Its one of the times when it was really hard to be proud of being South African. My co-delegates grilled me about the violence as if I was the sort of person who actually approved of setting people alight to make a point. I'd like to assure you that most South Africans don't approve of this sort of thing (in case you were worried).

The long and the short of it was that it fizzled out and there hasn't been any big trouble since, but its touch-powder. The wrong event involving the wrong people could set it all off again.

It was against this historic background that 'District 9' was made. Apartheid history was involved too (segregation and suchlike). It was about xenophobia SA style, and for once it wasn't only based on the intolerance of the apartheid years - it highlighted the intolerance of post-liberation South Africa - the oppression inflicted by the previously oppressed.

I suppose that such resentments will always be with us in one form or another. Most countries don't love their immigrants, do they?

Today's pic: I suppose one could say that it was taken between a rock and a hard place.

More Self-indulgence

One of the books I bought this weekend (Pamo, hwfarber, Karl and the rest... its all your fault!) was a volume entitled 'How to draw'. Sounds good. I also got a sketch book and a number of pencils, only I didn't know about water-soluble graphite pencils yet. Darn! They sound like fun!

Sunday was nice and peaceful, and so I settled down to exercise one: 'Make a simple line drawing of a household object'. So I did that. It wasn't quite right, but you could at least see what it was. Then I had a go at exercise two: 'reduce a complex shape into simple geometric shapes' (Something like that, anyway).

When I got tired of drawing coffee cups, pepper-grinders and suchlike, I ventured onto something way out of my league. Of course, its all wrong, but it does look just a little bit like the person I tried to draw.

The eyes were skew so I extended an existing scar to give the skewness some sort of reason. I think this is very arty. Your picture doesn't work, so hack up your subject's face. Creative! Scary! Brutal! Perhaps I'm the next Van Gough (only with a penchant for mutilating others rather than myself)!

In response to 'Struggling Girl' I'm also posting this picture of myself with a BB gun and a gorgeous dog. Oooaw. Isn't he sweet? The bowl, in case you were worried, belongs to the cats!

Play time!

After spending most of my life being terribly serious and working awfully hard, I decided that it was time for my mid-life crisis. I took a bit of a run-up to it, but now I'm really enjoying it.

Thing is, I decided it was time to have some fun. Haven't done enough of that, have I? I'm also comfortable enough with myself not to be too worried about what other people might say about it. When I was a teenager, for instance, I'd have played with a yo-yo or a bottle of bubble mix, but only if I was sure no-one was watching.

So now I have a whole toy box and a collection of bubble blowing things, and a kite and three yo-yo's, and guns that shoot ping-pong balls and a collection of water pistols and... Its infectious too! If I invite people for a cookout, it invariably degenerates into water-pistol warfare. The thing I've noticed about that, is that the older people among my friends are by far the most enthusiastic water-fighters!

I've also started 'spoiling myself'. I was in the mood for a spoiling today, so I took a walk through the shops in town. I looked at clothes - not interested. Shoes - ditto. Make up - I own tons of the stuff and I hardly use it.

I ended up in a terrible, terrible shop. It was a bookshop. There were too many things I wanted. I felt like a proper consumer - you know - the one with unlimited wants and limited resources that economists always talk about. I think I've had my retail therapy for the month! Just as well I didn't even enter a computer or music shop - they're even worse!

Yes, its wonderful being middle-aged and irresponsible - well, not irresponsible as such - just not responsible for anything other than myself.

Today's pic: MM :) I labelled Gertie (my tummy) to make sure you'd notice.

Birth of a Rural Legend

Its not often that one is present at the birth of a rural (or urban) legend. I witnessed such a thing once, and I think you'll enjoy the tale:

Some years ago (quite a lot of them, really) I worked on a farm near the Atomic Energy Corporation in Pelindaba near Pretoria. Because of the plutonium enrichment and other stuff I don't know much about, they used to test the cow's milk on surrounding farms for signs of contamination. It was something we were all aware of. It was routine.

My second job was working as a barmaid at the local bush pub, and one of my favorite 'regulars' was a retired army Colonel called Danie.

I've never known anyone who could drink like he did and remain upright and lucid. He drove a rusted pickup with more cracks in the window than I've ever seen, and he used to spend most of the day propping up the bar and chatting to anyone and everyone.

One day, Danie was remarking on the price of Oxtail and Tongue and at some point, the other patrons started speculating that it'd be jolly profitable to breed cows with multiple heads and tails. Danie joked that irradiating a pregnant cow might produce a calf with three heads and four tails, and we all had a bit of a chuckle (after all, it wasn't all that funny) and went home.

It must have been at least three months later that a client at the pub, with the air of one who is making hair-raising and true revelations said in a low, shocked tone of voice: 'Have you heard about the mutant cows in this area? Its shocking! Nuclear radiation has made them mutate so that calves with three heads and four tails are produced!'

Danie laughed so hard that he nearly fell off his chair, and the legend of the many-headed, many-tailed cows remained alive for years thereafter, much to the amusement of those of us who had been present at its originating. We weren't even able to persuade the chap who'd repeated it to us that it wasn't true! In fact, I think he suspected a 'cover-up'!

Today's pic: one can almost imagine that something sensational is under discussion here. It needs a caption, doesn't it?

Help! The rich need flowers!

As horticulturist, manager, HR 'specialist', PR and general dogsbody, I often get to handle oddities on the farm. Yesterday, I was asked for help in replying to a request for a donation of goods from... wait for it.... a multi-million rand, five-star golfing estate.

It wasn't because they'd become involved in a community greening initiative or anything - just a matter of tarting up the parking-lot so that their wealthy, golf-playing, five-star-hotel clients could see some flowers when they climbed out of their BMW's.

Everyone at the office was so horrified by the sheer chutzpah of the request, that they didn't have a clue what to do about it. Of course we donate products (or money), but then its to non-profit organizations, clinics, underfunded schools and the like - certainly not to five star recreational estates! They're clients. They're supposed to pay. Everyone knew this. No-one could work out how to say it politely.

I wrote a masterpiece of courteous refusal, of course. What else? Their request is the equivalent of me going to the supermarket and asking for the donation of a loaf of bread. Perhaps I should try that someday, just to see how they handle it! Of course, I should be as well-dressed as possible - borrow some gold jewelery, look affluent - who knows? They might even accede!

People. Go figure.

Oh: and the cream of the jest is the little 'concession' that I made them. The plants they want are currently on a 20% off special, so I added the following:

However, we would like to be of assistance, and therefore have obtained permission to offer you a 10% discount should you acquire funding from XYZ estate for completion of the project.

Heh heh heh.

Today's pic. A flower that millionaires will beg for....

Inappropriate Laughter

Last night I nearly repeated the 'killing of computer keyboard' exercise I conducted with the coffee a month or so ago. Never, ever, ever play 'chicken invaders' with someone who might make you laugh when you've just taken a swig of some or other liquid!

I had just handed over the controls after accidentally shooting the first of the mutant alien egg-laying poultry belonging to my opponent. I apologized for this, remarking that the screen was 'no longer virgin'.

The game re-started in a shower of eggs as I took a deep draught from my cup and 'The way they lay, they can't be' was the response, at which point aforementioned swig of liquid was carried forth on an overwhelming and irresistible explosion of laughter. You know, I don't think I could have held that laugh in, my head would have exploded.

Fortunately the product was a spray so fine as to be almost atomized, and a timely shutting down, daubing with paper towels and other tender indications of concern seem to have done the trick (as you may have noticed, all the letters are still working).

Oh, and I also daubed my erstwhile opponent and apologized (after I'd comforted my laptop, of course) but I think perhaps I oughtn't have, since my inability to suppress laughter will doubtless make me a fair target for practical jokes in future. In fact, I was told so. Watch this space for accounts of the public beverage-spraying incidents that will follow...

I wonder if I can do it through my nose too? I'll surely find out!

Today's pic: something suitably splashy. Fresh too, since I'm feeling well for the first time in weeks.

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Load up the Rubber Bullets

I'm malignantly amused by a recent incident regarding a Health Workers' strike. Normally, these things make me very angry: patients don't receive proper care in what are often literally cases of life and death.

I do understand that nurses are underpaid, and I'm not sure how such negotiations should be conducted, but indirectly killing patients seems a bit extreme. The worst cases occur when access to hospitals is blocked by the striking workers. Those willing to help patients can't get into the hospital, and sick people are prevented from getting into the building where they might (or might not) get attended to.

After a fiasco in 2008 that cost the lives of some babies and elderly folk, the police adopted a new policy: strike all you like, but at least don't block access to 'essential services' (Such as are still available).

During a recent picket, access to a hospital was deliberately blocked, so the police tried to clear the crowd. I'm not sure of the ins and outs, but rubber bullets and teargas were fired because things were getting out of hand. It didn't clear the access, but some strikers were injured and... ta-duh... (A fanfare for the really stupid) they couldn't get into the hospital to get treatment. What a wheeze!

I said it was a malignant sort of amusement, didn't I?

Today's pic: A preying mantis. Famed for devouring its husbands. Seems malignant enough to suit the mood? I'll have a go at being nice when I feel better.