Political wastage.

For weeks on end as the South African public has taken to the streets for whatever reason, we have been inundated with the not very becoming portraits of our political party leaders smiling or scowling down at us from lamp posts and trees. When one thinks about it surely we do not have to see their faces every fifty meters or so, in my mind once per kilometre would have been very ample.
It has been interesting driving down quiet and seldom used country roads and seeing stuck to the barbed wire fences of our time all these faces that keep promising us peace, health, education and work. Admittedly the signboards have probably fed numerous goats that have happened to pass by and so have, in a small way, at least helped to assuage the hunger in the animal population.
I do however wonder at how many trees were chopped down to produce all this, in the end paper wastage? How many tons of paper and cardboard were produced for the rather massive and I wonder how futile attempts to persuade one to put ones crosses on two other pieces of paper that after being accounted for will also become some part of this massive political wastage.
In a world where responsible leaders are trying to influence their public towards a greener planet is it the right thing to do to destroy forests and create, after the election process, massive mountains of political paper wastage.
Personally I think not and so I will keep the subject "current in my affairs" until perhaps one day someone will manage to come up with a suitable alternative and I will be able to place a mental tick on an imagined piece of paper in my mind.

International differences

Each nationality seems to have it's own high and low points and when wishing for what I would really like to be I have to look at the world pool of what I like and dislike to help make up my mind as to how I could be drastically improved upon.
So here goes, I think a West Indian should have chosen my name, have you ever heard a West Indians name that did not sing? Then I would want to speak English with an Italian accent, very creamy, dreamy. My height would have to be of a Maasai warrior - tall and straight backed. The African black woman's ability to stand and walk properly in very high stiletto heals, another definite must.
An even English mixture of Oscar Wilde and William Shakespeare's ways with words and then the added ability of putting said words to the music of the great European composers, Handel and Beethoven in particular.
The attitude of so many North Americans that they are indeed the chosen ones, and perhaps they may well be! The unfreckled porcelain skin of a Scandinavian teenager, the piercing eyes of a Russian Cossack horseback dancer, the French style of fashion. The nomadic ways of a Bedouin tribesman, the tiny feet of a Chinese woman.
The mental precision of a Swiss watch, and the strength of a Canadian lumberjack. An Amazonians link to nature and the spirit world.
Hair, any colour but red, from anywhere. Passion from all the great poets that ever were.
An Irishman's laugh, the wisdom of an ancient Greek and an international attitude to just be me!!!

Is our own Titanic sinking?

On this day in 1912 the unsinkable Titanic sank rather quickly to the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. There were very few who survived to continue on with their lives, such an ordeal must have left heavy imprints of frightening memories of bright beginnings that had somehow, against all odds, gone horribly wrong.
Are we, the so often forever hopefuls about our own bright future here in South Africa sailing on our own Titanic of political greediness and upheaval? We have only to look to the north to realise that the African continent is not a very safe fleet to be sailing with, many a ship has floundered on the rash and unkept promises of some democratically elected tyrant who immediately seems to become another despotic ruler to lead their followers on an (often bloody) path of destruction and chaos while they put on their sad and woeful faces to the rest of the world and with both hands together and outstretched beg for aid for their sick and starving populations mainly because they have themselves depleted the countries coffers by shunting out the lands wealth into their private Swiss Bank accounts.
Why do the African people keep voting for leaders who have already proven themselves to be dishonest and uncaring?
Here in South Africa, if we are not very careful, next week on Wednesday 22 we might be boarding our own sinking ship and soon many of us who had started the journey with happy smiling faces will be looking back at distant horizons of dreams of peace in our time and may well be wishing that we had placed our cross somewhere else on the election paper.
We need to think very carefully about who and what we are voting for, else it might be that our own written crosses are perhaps the very hardest we will ever have to bare.

Barack Obama a goal scored for the world

At last, and perhaps as usual, America has decided to, I hope, lead the world back into something they started when they voted J F Kennedy into the White House. They have elected a young, healthy and good looking President to take over the worn reigns of outdated presidential ware that seems to have been hanging on the special offer shelves for the past four decades and as we all know, not every bargain is a bargain.
Why does the world keep giving power to worn out and often not very healthy elderly men when there are so many fresh faces waiting in the sidelines to step forward and bring changes? The older we get the shorter our aspect of the future is so if we elect someone in their late sixties or early seventies then their future outlook is probably ten, twenty, maybe even thirty years ahead in their allotted time span of life.
In most countries the presidential seat is only for short periods, four to five years and perhaps a second term if one is lucky. The world needs the Barack Obama's to be stepping forward in the cyberspace age and looking ahead not till their own lives have ended but to the future centuries of human endeavours.
History and science have shown us that what was good for our forefathers is not necessarily good for us now. Old folk tend to look back at the past and dwell on it, where as the younger ones are living in the times and look towards the future as they strive to make their marks on the world.
May other countries follow this, I hope, trend and may we see a lot of elected leaders stepping forward into their places with keyboards at the ready instead of sandwiches in their briefcases.

Hot Cross Buns and Easter Tide memories.

Looking back to childhood days and the memories that are still so vivid in mind and imagination Good Friday always seems very much at the forefront of those that are worth holding onto. The whole family would be woken up early and there would usually be kippers for breakfast and somehow the strong fishy smell of those kippers was always completely over-awed with the delightful aroma of Mothers Hot Cross buns, and as she kneaded away at the dough the Christian scents of cinnamon and mixed spices would permeate the air and a quiet peace would throw a blanket over the house as if bestowing a blessing on us all.
Breakfast over then off to church the family would go for the "Stations of the Cross" service. It was long and so the children, when we were small, did not stay for its completion but were allowed to walk home when we were tired of standing. This always seemed unfair as after standing for at least two hours we still had about a fifteen minute walk home.
My parents always seemed to return home from church with friends who had been invited to join us for an afternoon tea of freshly baked Hot Cross buns which were smothered with thick farm butter which melted and dripped over onto our plates. As we hungrily gobbled our way through the buns my Father would play Handel's "Messiah", talking was not needed, we were safe and content and knew who we were.
On Good Fridays fish pie was always on the menu for supper and as we sat around the dining table and the conversation allowed itself to be led wherever we chose there was always that feeling of belonging, of being a part of, of just being there, of eternity, of the goodness of all and of being surrounded by love.
When I was growing up my childhood seemed to be very normal to me, yet when I look back now I realise how fortunate I was to have so many wonderful memories to recall at special times of the year.
Happy Easter to all.