Zuma Spear & SA Dankfees

Zuma Spear!

Wat dink jy daarvan?

Waarvan?

Ek praat natuurlik van die “Zuma Spear” wat nou heellaas verwyder is van die City Press webblad en die kunstenaar Brett Murray wat onder eed verklaar het “Ek wil graag sê dat ek ‘n trotse Suid-Afrikaner en voormalige ondersteuner van die ANC is. Ek is nie ‘n rassis nie”.

Wel Mnr. Murray, ek weet nie wat jy wou bereik nie, maar jy kan mos nie ons President so ontbloot nie?  Vir reklame kon dit nie wees nie, want ons as gewone mense sal nou net verder kan lees oor die “spear” en slegs wonder oor die werklike punt van al die belangstelling.

SA Dankfees 2012

Soos seker meeste Suid-Afrikaners, is daar gou na ons dapper aankoms in Engeland besef dat dié ‘n vreemde land met vreemde mense en nog vreemder gewoontes is.  Ons het onsself in Oos-Oos London bevind, smaak my vêr verby Pella se gat, waar daar meer uitlanders as Engelse woon. Van die nasies het ek nog nooit self gesien nie en ons het vining besef dat ons ‘n plan sal moet maak om tussen ons eie mense te kom, want so ‘n vreemde besigheid kan nie goed vir ‘n mens wees nie.

Vroeg een oggend op die trein hoor ons toe ons taal, saggies agter ‘n Metro gefluister en toe die koerantjie later sak, sien ons van ons dam se ganse - Ons staan mos uit! Daai oggend hoor ons toe van die Dankfees en die datum is koorsig neergeskryf.  Dit was gelukkig net ‘n paar weke weg en ons kon nie wag om te sien waaroor al die opwinding gaan nie, min het ons geweet wat se invloed dié dag op ons sou hê.

Daai Saterdagoggend met die aanry na die hekke is ons begroet met ‘n see van tente en vriendelike gesigte.  Daar was hordes mense en almal groet mekaar soos ou bekendes. Dit was soos ons bezaar op Vredenburg en ek het amper begin uitkyk vir Oom Bunny met sy dra-stem.  Maar dié bezaar was op ‘n baie groter skaal.  Ons musiek het gespeel en ons taal is gepraat en gou is daar nuwe vriende gemaak.  Saam is daar om die tafeltjies gesit en gesels en lekker geëet aan al die lekker kos, dit terwyl  braaivleis geure die lug vul. Ons was nou deel van ‘n SA gemeenskap, ‘n gesin vêr van die huis af en net die kennis daarvan, kon die donker maande maar laat kom, die treine met die stom vreemdes wat agter hul boeke skuil en al die reën.

Wel die Dankfees is nou amper hier en vanaf  8 – 10 Junie sal ons weer op die Hop Farm wees.  Dié jaar beloof om nog groter as tevore te wees.  Daar is ‘n buzzzz onder die mense, want nie net gaan daar groot kunstenaars wees nie, maar die weer lyk of dit ook gaan saamspeel.

Daar word weer vanaf die Vrydagaand tot die Sondag gekamp, wanneer die gemeenstes  as ‘n groep saamkom en onder begeleiding van die groep Profet, die fees sal afluit. Die Saterdag sal weer gevul wees met verskeie aktiwiteite vir die jongspan (sien webblad vir ‘n volledige lys), terwyl die ouers kans sal kry om te kuier en die koskaste te vul.

Jakob Deist en Pieter Dorfling sal deur die dag mense met hul musiek vermaak en in die aand is daar ‘n Dankfees vertoning waar Kurt Darren en Pieter Smith mens die kans sal gee om bietjie stof op te skop, tot laatnag.

So tussen ons, die kaartjies is reeds beskikbaar by http://www.sagemeente.com/, en myne is klaar bestel om die toue te vermy.

So kom en geniet huis op die Hop Farm. My drie hare staan al regop van al die opwinding, ek kan nie meer wag nie!

FLOAT LIKE A BUTTERFLY, STING LIKE A BEE

FLOAT LIKE A BUTTERFLY, STING LIKE A BEE

The words immortal of the great Mohammed Ali, or as some might know Cassius Clay. You might wonder why this phrase? Well let me tell you…

The other day, whilst on my daily dog stroll through the woods, a fellow walker made his way round the wild berry bush.  Red and flustered he approached me slapping at his neck.

“I was just attacked by a Wasp,” he said “Can you believe it?”

Well firstly I was surprised that the somewhat familiar-faced stranger, actually talked to me, something that has not happened since our paths first crossed almost three months ago.  My “Good mornings” met with a shy nod, eyes always drifting to the ground, sure not to make any contact. 

“Really,” I replied, as if this stranger’s first words would be a lie. I was explained in detail where the torture devoted pack hid and with a sheepish look, I was told that it was an unprovoked attack.

Off course!

Well, as a fellow human I was now left with one of the following responses:

1)       The Companion’s “Revenge” – This is the merciless inexorable laughter you will find when you just encountered extreme pain or found yourself in a very sticky situation, usually by someone dear to you.

2)      The Over-endearing reaction - This is to completely overreact to a minor incidence, exaggeration to the extreme.  Usually by clapping your hands in horror, pulling at your hair, followed by falling to the floor. I have even seen tears shed in some cases. This usually leaves the victim in more shock or hysterical at the wild inappropriate counteraction.

3)      The Demeaning reaction – This usually start with “That’s nothing, you should have seen …” with the “I” being very important.

These are just a few, but believe me there are many more.  I am sad to say that my reaction fell under the latter.  With his trauma evident in the inflamed bulge on his neck, I met his wild wide eyes with, “That’s nothing, the other day…

I told him about our wasp visitors every winter.  They obviously decided to nestle themselves close to our warm Boiler, leaving any maintenance during the Festive Season an impossible task.

It was a cold dark morning when I opened the bathroom window to let some heat out and cool air in.  At this stage I already forgot what I learned the previous year; our wasps were either drawn to the light from our bathroom window, or drawn to the heat from inside the house.  Maybe they were thirsty and knew that soon a bath will be filled with water and an easy target for early morning practice. 

That morning when I opened the window, the flying creature zipped in.  From the moment I saw him, my whole being reached for Divine help.  I knew that I would be an easy target; a sitting Duck (Hippo more) with no means to protect my exposed body. With my eyes focused on the pestilence I managed to quickly clean myself, my “Refresh button” pushed for the day ahead. I almost managed to pull a neck muscle as I followed his sting, set for menace.  From one corner to the next, transfixed I followed his hypnotic movement; his compound eyes on me, eagerly awaiting the perfect moment to afflict the perfect blow.

I braced myself for the worst when I shot up.  I reckoned with the element of surprise and speed, I would not only shock, but stun the creature. Executed to perfection, I thought as I pulled the warm towel towards me and as I hemmed myself in, I saw it and its atrocious plan. It came at me, fast and furious.  Its poisoned dripping sting, the last thing I saw before it struck me.  It was the perfect gladiatorial blow, right under my armpit, angled to my heart.  With shock and in excruciating pain I could feel the venom being released into my arteries, the blood giving way to the evil fluid.

With wild butterfly arms I slapped and swung, trying my best to kill the blasted thing, until I met it where it struck me.  Obvious happy to meet its maker, it forced the last drops into me.

I dropped the towel into the bath, hoping to drown if not suffocate it and as I saw myself in the mirror I knew, this day cannot end well.  I flopped myself on the bed and reached for my mobile. I left a voice message on my manager’s phone and explained that I might die of arterial hypertension or poison, if I don’t take it easy and see them the next day.  I took it easy for the rest of the day and decided never to open that window in winter again, you never know what might make its way inside.

So how do I get to the phrase?  Well even “As swift like a butterfly, I was stung by a bee”

                                                                                xxx

                                                                                                      Conrad A Brand, December 2011