Its a little strange to think that after 5 marriage proposals I remain single and unmarried. Because I am. Single and unmarried, that is. Not strange. Well... maybe that too.
I recently ended a relationship, and although there is a large part of me that is sitting curled up in a corner sniveling to myself, there is also a small part of me that is indignant that I have once again ended an engagement and... wait for it... have no ring to show for it!
At the end of the day, what is a good breakup without a little fight about belongings? It gives you something to focus on, really. I mean, you haven't broken up for no reason. Usually its a culmination of all the little arguments, and 'discussions' and tiffs that you have had, but when breaking up its nice to have something new to fight about. And what better than who gets to keep the ring? I mean, THAT argument can keep you full of anger and and in denial about your grief for years.
Alas, so far I have been robbed of that luxury. Five times. By now I should really have a collection of them. To be fair, the first one was a 17 year old boy who thought that because I was the first girl that liked him he should marry me, so the ring would probably have come from a Christmas cracker. That being said, number two was only 20, but he had already designed the house we were going to live in. Still no ring. He proposed to all his girlfiends though, so I imagine that had he bought a ring for all of us he would be eternally broke. I am sure he thought that a house designed 'just' for me was proof enough of commitment. He proposed to a friend of mine a year or two later, and as far as I know he showed her the plans for the house as well. She got a ring though.
Proposal #3 was a little offhand really. I said yes to this one though, and we had planned to announce it to family and friends after we finished studying. We had a future planned and it involved traveling and he said, "well yes, I think we had better get married, it will make traveling and visas easier." Aren't you just swooning with the romance? No ring, because that would be the same as announcing it...
Proposal #4 was just before I left on travels of my own. I think the reason I didnt get a ring with this one was that I was leaving the country. Letting that R20k investment out of your sight is quite silly, really. Why spend all that money if she stands a chance of being swept off her feet by some half clad Adonis-like Greek on a white sandy beach somewhere? Good thing really, because I didnt make it back to the area for 4 years.
Proposal #5... well. I really should have had a ring for this one. The plan was to get one once I actually arrived in the country (I am still in South Africa and he is across the pond) but since the continental divide proved as large as always expected, I am single and ring-less. We cant even fight about who gets the frying pans, or who the house warming gift was really for, because neither of us is going to send it across the pond anyway. Handing back the others belongings isn't quite the same when its delivered by postman by necessity, rather than as an indication of vitriole and an unwillingness to deign to be in the others presence.
I am kinda curios to know if there will be a Proposal #6. And if there will be a ring. Let this be a warning to all future prospects... I want a ring. And if you break up with me after I accept it... I am keeping it. Thanks.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Safari Bliss
I will be the first to admit that as a South African I am just a little snobby about this whole idea of 'safaris'. Technically, 'safari' is just a Swahili word for journey. In Kenya one will often say, "Oh I cant wait, I am going safari this weekend" and when asked where to, one would reply "oh to the beach, soak up some sun", for example. For the rest of the world it has come to mean khaki coloured clothing and long hours sitting in the back of a game viewer truck driving past massive quantities of lions and leopards all ready to wow you with their ability to kill, and waiting to pose for your photograph.
The reality is quite different, really. Animals are hard to spot, the rainy season means long grass and low visibility and the dry season is generally at a time of year when people dont like to travel. Going to a game reserve and having high expectations of seeing leopard is somewhat like going fishing and expecting to see a shark. Just because you cant see them doesn't mean they aren't there, they are just hard to spot.
For me, game viewing was always about driving up for the weekend (or long holiday) and spending days with beer in a cooler, driving at super low speeds chilling out in the bush with friends or family, and stopping when you felt like it. I always laughed a little at the tourists piled into their guided trucks stopping to view the abundant impala, and stuck with a schedule not their own.
No more! I have been converted! My company is a tour operator and one of the occasional perks is going to a lodge or on a tour on 'business' to do a site inspection. Which is what a friend and I did this last week. Oh wow, the place was wonderful. Rustic but awesome, we stayed in tree houses! The game drives were not as terrible as I imagined, but rather gave us a wonderful insight into what was going on around us, with guides that keep you informed.
The treehouses were so cool, with separate but private bathrooms on ground level, open air. Showering naked in the bush with monkeys sitting on the branches above you watching with fascination is a rare experience! The first morning we woke up and got out of bed to head down the stairs, only to blearily open my eyes to discover that our little hideaway was surrounded by buffalo! Luckily when we started talking loudly they headed away and I was able to make my way down the stairs, maul free.
That day we spent almost 8 hours in the open top trucks, and had the most phenomenal luck. A leopard actually just sauntered up to our car! So rare that despite the many reserves I have been to in several countries I have never seen one! And it just wandered up to us to say hi.
One of the highlights of the trip was a game walk. After days of telling you how important it is not to let a hand dangle out of the truck, or step out of the vehicle at any time that isn't prearranged by your guide, they then get you out of the car and walk you off into the bush. Although warned that we were unlikely to see any big game, you cant help but see an elephant in every rock and a hungry lion behind every tree. The idea of the walk, however, is to take in the little stuff, pick up rocks and scare the scorpions, learn about tracks and the animals in the area. The joy of walking through bush that has never been tamed and is home to so much life is just phenomenal.
The reality is quite different, really. Animals are hard to spot, the rainy season means long grass and low visibility and the dry season is generally at a time of year when people dont like to travel. Going to a game reserve and having high expectations of seeing leopard is somewhat like going fishing and expecting to see a shark. Just because you cant see them doesn't mean they aren't there, they are just hard to spot.
For me, game viewing was always about driving up for the weekend (or long holiday) and spending days with beer in a cooler, driving at super low speeds chilling out in the bush with friends or family, and stopping when you felt like it. I always laughed a little at the tourists piled into their guided trucks stopping to view the abundant impala, and stuck with a schedule not their own.
No more! I have been converted! My company is a tour operator and one of the occasional perks is going to a lodge or on a tour on 'business' to do a site inspection. Which is what a friend and I did this last week. Oh wow, the place was wonderful. Rustic but awesome, we stayed in tree houses! The game drives were not as terrible as I imagined, but rather gave us a wonderful insight into what was going on around us, with guides that keep you informed.
The treehouses were so cool, with separate but private bathrooms on ground level, open air. Showering naked in the bush with monkeys sitting on the branches above you watching with fascination is a rare experience! The first morning we woke up and got out of bed to head down the stairs, only to blearily open my eyes to discover that our little hideaway was surrounded by buffalo! Luckily when we started talking loudly they headed away and I was able to make my way down the stairs, maul free.
That day we spent almost 8 hours in the open top trucks, and had the most phenomenal luck. A leopard actually just sauntered up to our car! So rare that despite the many reserves I have been to in several countries I have never seen one! And it just wandered up to us to say hi.
One of the highlights of the trip was a game walk. After days of telling you how important it is not to let a hand dangle out of the truck, or step out of the vehicle at any time that isn't prearranged by your guide, they then get you out of the car and walk you off into the bush. Although warned that we were unlikely to see any big game, you cant help but see an elephant in every rock and a hungry lion behind every tree. The idea of the walk, however, is to take in the little stuff, pick up rocks and scare the scorpions, learn about tracks and the animals in the area. The joy of walking through bush that has never been tamed and is home to so much life is just phenomenal.
Lest I gush and suddenly make myself out to have gone soft, I shall end it there. Needless to say, coming home was a little sad, but this country makes me proud to be African. Below are some highlights from my trip. Till next time...
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
I apologise for Vuvuzelas
I know my wanderings have taken me many a place, and many a city, but my home town is Cape Town, South Africa. When I left the country in 2004 I never thought I would return to stay. I imagined all sorts of places I would live my life, but none of them included moving back to Cape Town.
However, life being life, and mine in particular having a tendency to spit me out at random locations around the world, I ended up back in the Mother City. The idea was for my long distance relationship to stop being long distance, and for him to move here to this gorgeous city to live with me.
However, South Africa being what it is, and him being the mountain man and small town boy he is, jobs are tough, pay is bad and cities are still noisy.
So..he's back in CO, USA and we are back to limbo.
Isnt it funny though, how often our view of our country can be so dramatically altered by one event? Ok, so here I speak not of the mundane or the average, or of a small passing comment that shifts the universe as a butterfly fluttering its wings in a canyon. The Soccer World Cup is hardly inconspicuous. But it is just one event. And this one event has irrevocably shifted how I see my country.
I admit freely that I was one of the people who saw with dreading heart the unveiling of the decision to host the event here. Along with many of my countrymen, and a large portion of the world, I had images of strikes and transport problems, undeveloped infrastructure, unfinished stadiums. Crime, not so much, but only because unlike the propoganda of the international media I know the violence is generally limited to areas where the people who live there have few other options. Would you walk through the ghetto in your city late at night carrying a camera? Unfortunately, our ghettos are bigger than most countries, so the statistics are scarier.
The way the people of South Africa have risen to the challenge has amazed, delighted and impressed me. The response of visitors and the awe I have seen in their eyes as they walk round my beautiful city, stare at the cultural peculiarities of my countrymen and gape at the mountain range in the middle of our CBD has caused me many a moment of smug pride that I get to live here and they dont.
When it comes to 'feeling it', I have to say that few countries have quite thrown themselves in the way we have. First, we came up with a 'sound', that although it has probably deafened half of South Africa, and will forever outdo the most annoying sound in the world, will forever bring to mind thousands of drunk football supporters straining to outdo the person next them.
Maybe it helps that our flag has so many ridiculous colours? I think the simple fact that we stand out in the crowd by default is helpful to our cause.
All in all, crime rates dropped (even the crooks were watching the games) and our spirit was maintained, most South Africans supporting one team or another after we inevitably didnt make the quarters. Never to be left out, one could even see the occasional tearful South African sobbing into their Netherlands scarf at the final, and watching with grief as our new-found foreign friends flew back to their home countries.
I dont know how to express the patriotic welling of emotion I feel when I see how well we have done. The pure love for the people here that have warmly welcomed the world and blown them away with beauty, culture and variety. We have a long way to go, but dear God, we have come so far.
I have only one apology and that is for the ongoing prevalence of the vuvuzela. Admit it though, I bet you only hate them so much because you cant blow one yourself...
However, life being life, and mine in particular having a tendency to spit me out at random locations around the world, I ended up back in the Mother City. The idea was for my long distance relationship to stop being long distance, and for him to move here to this gorgeous city to live with me.
So..he's back in CO, USA and we are back to limbo.
Isnt it funny though, how often our view of our country can be so dramatically altered by one event? Ok, so here I speak not of the mundane or the average, or of a small passing comment that shifts the universe as a butterfly fluttering its wings in a canyon. The Soccer World Cup is hardly inconspicuous. But it is just one event. And this one event has irrevocably shifted how I see my country.
I admit freely that I was one of the people who saw with dreading heart the unveiling of the decision to host the event here. Along with many of my countrymen, and a large portion of the world, I had images of strikes and transport problems, undeveloped infrastructure, unfinished stadiums. Crime, not so much, but only because unlike the propoganda of the international media I know the violence is generally limited to areas where the people who live there have few other options. Would you walk through the ghetto in your city late at night carrying a camera? Unfortunately, our ghettos are bigger than most countries, so the statistics are scarier.
The way the people of South Africa have risen to the challenge has amazed, delighted and impressed me. The response of visitors and the awe I have seen in their eyes as they walk round my beautiful city, stare at the cultural peculiarities of my countrymen and gape at the mountain range in the middle of our CBD has caused me many a moment of smug pride that I get to live here and they dont.
When it comes to 'feeling it', I have to say that few countries have quite thrown themselves in the way we have. First, we came up with a 'sound', that although it has probably deafened half of South Africa, and will forever outdo the most annoying sound in the world, will forever bring to mind thousands of drunk football supporters straining to outdo the person next them.
Maybe it helps that our flag has so many ridiculous colours? I think the simple fact that we stand out in the crowd by default is helpful to our cause.
All in all, crime rates dropped (even the crooks were watching the games) and our spirit was maintained, most South Africans supporting one team or another after we inevitably didnt make the quarters. Never to be left out, one could even see the occasional tearful South African sobbing into their Netherlands scarf at the final, and watching with grief as our new-found foreign friends flew back to their home countries.
I dont know how to express the patriotic welling of emotion I feel when I see how well we have done. The pure love for the people here that have warmly welcomed the world and blown them away with beauty, culture and variety. We have a long way to go, but dear God, we have come so far.
I have only one apology and that is for the ongoing prevalence of the vuvuzela. Admit it though, I bet you only hate them so much because you cant blow one yourself...
Thursday, May 13, 2010
N.D.A
If you didn’t know, NDA stands for Non-Disclosure Agreement. And mine has come to an end. This warrants a huge big sigh of relief, not so much because I was burning to tell people, but more because I just don’t like having a piece of paper tell me what I can and can’t say.
On the other hand, I can now talk about a truly wonderful meeting I had in Sudan before the end of my employment with that truly awful security company (I never wrote a post specifically about the company but read through July 2008). In fact, it’s the very meeting that spelled out the end of my employment there. Could I talk about it at the time? Ah… no. NDA. Was my boss willing to cite my refusal to be immoral as a reason for firing me? Hell no! So I got a list of absolute bulls**t instead.
For those of you that aren’t aware of the terms of the peace agreement in Sudan, one of the provisos was that the SPLA (Sudanese Peoples Liberation Army, formerly the rebel party- now in power of South Sudan) would receive formal training and become the military arm of the new government, rather than an untrained rowdy homicidal mass. To me this sounds a lot like training a bunch of rebels to kill better, but hey. Who am I to speak, it seems to be working.
With this is mind, one of the services that our security company was offering was Officer and Intelligence Training, which is a large part of why I was running around to VIP’s and being nice. On a fairly boring and uneventful day one of our contacts came to the office and told us that a colleague was interested in training for a large group of soldiers. Excellent! However, the boss was back in England at the time and he asked me to meet with them on his behalf. So I did.
I was invited to one of the nicer ‘hotels’ and I met with a very large and quite frightening man in the main cafeteria. He and his 3 HUGE ‘collegues’ invited me to their room (and when I say ‘invited’ I use the term to mean squashed in on four sides by huge men and spirited away from the public areas in haste). I think it’s quite understandable that I was a little nervous. When we got to the room, the main guy and two men escorted me inside, and the fourth stood guard outside the door. What struck me first about these men is that they looked Arab. In South Sudan the people are mostly African and in North Sudan they are mostly Arabic. It’s not often that the cultural lines mix for the same reason that seldom do you see Palestinian people in Jerusalem. Its considered unwise. I chose not to say anything about it because I needed my fingers for writing, and instead made it quite clear that I was just taking notes on requirements and structure of the training on my boss’s behalf and for the purpose of quoting. They were scarily excited to be meeting with me.
So, we began with the usual. How many people, what level of training are you interested in, do you need any basic equipment (radios, computer training, etc) and little by little I became very suspicious. Firstly they wanted training for 2000 people. Then they needed all equipment and weapons (which I chose not to point out was illegal for us to supply- thought I would leave that one to the boss) and then they started going on about basic training. Now all SPLA have had basic training…. So who the hell were these guys? I thought the best way to ask was to pose a question about uniform. Which colours will the uniforms have to be in? He laughed outrageously and said, “well, anything so long as we can tell the difference between us and the SPLA when we fight them!”
Ahem. *cough*
I was meeting with rebels from Darfur.
Yup, go right ahead and let that sink in for a moment.
Done? Good. Lets move on then. At this point I started trying to wrap up the meeting as quickly as possible. “Is there anything else you can think of right now that you would like me to hand on to my boss? “ He thinks for a second and then he says, “I think what we really need is some support from the UN. That would really get the world on our side. Please can you arrange for us to meet with them?” My jaw dropped and I was speechless for just a moment. As I regained my voice and prepared to speak he said, “oh, and we would really like to get some support from Tony Blair. I know we can’t meet with him, the man is busy, but could you arrange a phone call with him? That would be great.”
I took a sip of water, thanked him so much for coming to meet with me and said that I would pass on all the information to my boss, and he would be in touch soon. I then almost ran from the room, found the nearest bar with lots of people that I knew and downed a few whiskeys.
When my boss returned a week or so later I handed over all the information to him and prepared to have a good laugh and then a serious discussion of how we were going to tell these guys to bugger off without being killed. Instead his face was thoughtful. “Well, if we did the training in Chad then technically we wouldn’t be contravening the laws…”
I told him in no uncertain terms was not I going to be involved in an endevour that would put peace at risk for a country that had enjoyed peace for only 4 years in 40. I was fired the next day.
As far as I know, the man is currently in Chad, but I have no knowledge of his dealing, business or position there. I do wonder if he ever got that call with Tony Blair?
On the other hand, I can now talk about a truly wonderful meeting I had in Sudan before the end of my employment with that truly awful security company (I never wrote a post specifically about the company but read through July 2008). In fact, it’s the very meeting that spelled out the end of my employment there. Could I talk about it at the time? Ah… no. NDA. Was my boss willing to cite my refusal to be immoral as a reason for firing me? Hell no! So I got a list of absolute bulls**t instead.
For those of you that aren’t aware of the terms of the peace agreement in Sudan, one of the provisos was that the SPLA (Sudanese Peoples Liberation Army, formerly the rebel party- now in power of South Sudan) would receive formal training and become the military arm of the new government, rather than an untrained rowdy homicidal mass. To me this sounds a lot like training a bunch of rebels to kill better, but hey. Who am I to speak, it seems to be working.
With this is mind, one of the services that our security company was offering was Officer and Intelligence Training, which is a large part of why I was running around to VIP’s and being nice. On a fairly boring and uneventful day one of our contacts came to the office and told us that a colleague was interested in training for a large group of soldiers. Excellent! However, the boss was back in England at the time and he asked me to meet with them on his behalf. So I did.
I was invited to one of the nicer ‘hotels’ and I met with a very large and quite frightening man in the main cafeteria. He and his 3 HUGE ‘collegues’ invited me to their room (and when I say ‘invited’ I use the term to mean squashed in on four sides by huge men and spirited away from the public areas in haste). I think it’s quite understandable that I was a little nervous. When we got to the room, the main guy and two men escorted me inside, and the fourth stood guard outside the door. What struck me first about these men is that they looked Arab. In South Sudan the people are mostly African and in North Sudan they are mostly Arabic. It’s not often that the cultural lines mix for the same reason that seldom do you see Palestinian people in Jerusalem. Its considered unwise. I chose not to say anything about it because I needed my fingers for writing, and instead made it quite clear that I was just taking notes on requirements and structure of the training on my boss’s behalf and for the purpose of quoting. They were scarily excited to be meeting with me.
So, we began with the usual. How many people, what level of training are you interested in, do you need any basic equipment (radios, computer training, etc) and little by little I became very suspicious. Firstly they wanted training for 2000 people. Then they needed all equipment and weapons (which I chose not to point out was illegal for us to supply- thought I would leave that one to the boss) and then they started going on about basic training. Now all SPLA have had basic training…. So who the hell were these guys? I thought the best way to ask was to pose a question about uniform. Which colours will the uniforms have to be in? He laughed outrageously and said, “well, anything so long as we can tell the difference between us and the SPLA when we fight them!”
Ahem. *cough*
I was meeting with rebels from Darfur.
Yup, go right ahead and let that sink in for a moment.
Done? Good. Lets move on then. At this point I started trying to wrap up the meeting as quickly as possible. “Is there anything else you can think of right now that you would like me to hand on to my boss? “ He thinks for a second and then he says, “I think what we really need is some support from the UN. That would really get the world on our side. Please can you arrange for us to meet with them?” My jaw dropped and I was speechless for just a moment. As I regained my voice and prepared to speak he said, “oh, and we would really like to get some support from Tony Blair. I know we can’t meet with him, the man is busy, but could you arrange a phone call with him? That would be great.”
I took a sip of water, thanked him so much for coming to meet with me and said that I would pass on all the information to my boss, and he would be in touch soon. I then almost ran from the room, found the nearest bar with lots of people that I knew and downed a few whiskeys.
When my boss returned a week or so later I handed over all the information to him and prepared to have a good laugh and then a serious discussion of how we were going to tell these guys to bugger off without being killed. Instead his face was thoughtful. “Well, if we did the training in Chad then technically we wouldn’t be contravening the laws…”
I told him in no uncertain terms was not I going to be involved in an endevour that would put peace at risk for a country that had enjoyed peace for only 4 years in 40. I was fired the next day.
As far as I know, the man is currently in Chad, but I have no knowledge of his dealing, business or position there. I do wonder if he ever got that call with Tony Blair?
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