Kenyan Community Initiative Support: Fighting Malaria

Kenyan Community Initiative Support: Fighting Malaria

Highways, freeways, motorways and byways

Sunday afternoon, not much to do except sit and chatter about all and everything in our world, and as the conversation ebbed and flowed we began to discuss the state of the highways, motorway, freeways and roads in general in Gauteng.
It seems no matter which highway one drives on these day there are road works going full swing somewhere along the way. The most obvious of these being the Danie Joubert Freeway in the Centurion area and the Western Bypass in Johannesburg.
No matter what time of the day or night it is there are always lanes closed along these routes and so as traffic builds up and then spreads out there is no way of knowing what time one will reach ones destination.
I am so happy that I do not have to do the morning and evening road rumba any more, living in a small village does, for me at least, have many advantages. How does one calculate at what time they should leave for work these days, how does one arrange to fetch children at a certain time, and how does one plan for anything when there is always the worry at the back of the mind as to whether the final destination will be reached in time?
How is it that our illustrious forefathers, who built these roads in the first place, had so little planning and forecasting abilities? Did they not envisage even the minutest growth in the motor vehicle population of the Gauteng area? Even back in those good old days surely figures should have been checked and plans made for expansions should, in the far distant future of probably about five years, things begin to change and traffic get heavier? Obviously, what is obvious to us was not so obvious to the minds that were, even when these motorways were built ordinary folk like you and I were wondering how long they would cope. Now suddenly South Africa springs into action as the Football World Cup will be held here in 2010, so we rush around like made things trying to expand where there is not much space for expansion.
The public being their usual placid selves accept that perhaps they should leave an hour earlier for work and as the stagnant and stationary traffic bellows out exhaust fumes we all sit gaily in our vehicles chatting on cell phones, listening to the radio, counting the porta loos along the roadworks and swearing blindly at any other road user who happens to annoy us.
We all know that what they are inconveniencing us with at present will not be enough by the end of 2010 and so I have to ask my fellow road users, "After 2010 then what?"
If you know the answer please let me know.
One final question, in the end who do we blame, the apartheid era, the post apartheid era, both the above or just the idiots who in the first place did not have the insight to start the job properly so that as and when the need arose things could have been done without so much fuss.

A world washed clean the Johannesburg/Mpumalanga road

Last week Friday I set out with a friend to travel to Nelspruit (a city that I thought was a small town). It is about a four hour drive from Johannesburg on a long and meandering road where the scenery changes from the flatish lands of Gauteng to the rather mountainous hills and dales of Mpumalanga.
As we drove along I could not help thinking that I had never before seen the vegetation that lush and green anywhere, or at any time, in Southern Africa. There were waterfalls glistening in the sunshine as they made their precarious way down steep hillsides and into the rivers below. A lot of the roadside trees were in full bloom and their colours stood out for miles as if they were bright beacons of hope casting out joy to all and sundry passing by. The air was fresh and clean with not a sign of city smog to keep it hanging heavily from the skies.


We saw birds floating on sunbeams and heard their happy cries as they celebrated the richness of the gifts of nature. This world had really been washed clean and one could almost feel the negativity in ones own being dissipate into nothingness as we wound our way past pine forests and fruit farms, gently grazing cattle and sheep and countryside alive with insects all singing as they warmed themselves up in the mid-morning sun. As the day heated up it became more humid yet the air remained light and so we continued our journey in comfort.
Nelspruit came into view, long straight streets criss-crossing each other in an attempt to bring all into the hub of the city centre. The flamboyant trees with their majestic bright orangey/red flowers reminded me of childhood days when I had scrambled up the enormous specimen that stood guard over the driveway at my parents home, happy days and happy memories.
We had a wonderful weekend and met delightful folk, yet come Monday morning were both glad to know that we were returning to our own homes. We left Nelspruit at about eight-thirty and decided we would amble our way back to the fast moving world of Gauteng. The drive was cool and as we gazed out at the passing countryside I was glad to notice that the Gods had placed a protective and gentle mantle over the hills and valleys, a soft promise that wherever we are there is always a sign that so to are They.

Dancing Politicians

Why I ask, is it that politicians always seem to be moving around, almost dancing, whenever they are rallying around to practice the art of trumpery on their loyal and unsuspecting followers?
With feet stamping and arms gesticulating they declare to all around them, and the world at large, what sincere, humble and honest folk they really are. They are only there to voice the opinions of the masses, and they do totally understand the position of those who are unemployed and will certainly do their utmost to bring the country out of whatever bad situation it seems to be in at the moment.
I wonder do they stand in front of a full length mirror to practice facial expressions and body movements to ensure that they will keep the audience enthralled with their wise words and promised forecasts?
As they gaily go tub-thumping from one side to another with voices filled with exaggerations of what they will do for the country and of pie crust promises that anyone with any form of brain matter would easily see through and never believe.
Do they watch replays of the opposition to see if their dance moves are better than their own, or do they pay vast, but very worth it, amounts of money to have a choreographer design the entire show?
Would we not perhaps get a better leader and parliament if elections in South Africa were done on the same basis as "Strictly come Dancing"? For one they would probably get a better viewing audience and then all the participants would each have an equal turn to show their spins and pirouettes to the spellbound spectators. There would be weekly voting and the competitor who got the least votes would of course have to leave the show immediately. There could be no chance of one participant helping or supporting another, each would have to stand or dance on their own.
I am sure more dances could be added to the agenda to ensure that all possible moves and cantatas were displayed and heard from all angles.
For once the common man in the street might get a more truthful picture of what he was letting himself in for and therefore think very carefully before he made his cross on any voting form.
Politicians are all for power and glory, it is such a pity that they only want them for themselves!

The Gravy Train

Surely it is time that the South African Gravy Train was put out to pasture or whatever it is that we do to Gravy Trains when they have travelled the length and breadth of the entire country for so long. I wonder how long the life span has been on the wheels of this very overused and over crowded form of transport. As it has chugged along the tracks of South Africa how many coaches have had to be added to hold all the gravy that has been diligently collected by the passengers.
I also wonder has the driver ever been instructed to stop at some lowly and isolated village to share a bit with the locals, I doubt it very much.
It is time for the voters to derail the train, share out the massive bounty with the poor and put the train on display, with wheels firmly locked so that at last our illustrious politicians will actually have to work for their wages and perhaps with a bit of luck work for us as well.

Sour grapes, stale doughnuts and bad service.

What is it about supermarkets these days that you cannot get a fresh doughnut any day of the week. What makes it more annoying is when you politely ask the staff member who is serving you if they are :- 1) freshly made today?
2) have they been made on the premises?
To both questions you get a huge smile and the usual yes Ma'am, to make double sure you repeat both questions in English and then Afrikaans to ensure that they have really understood what you mean, once again the smile and the yes Ma'am. You then ask for 2, and ever so slowly the cake box is made up and even more slowly the price tag is printed and used to seal the box. Upon receipt of today's and made on the premises very fresh doughnuts you rip open the box and do the touch test- lightly prod one of the doughnuts with you finger - nothing moves at all, they have either muddled up the flour with cement or they are very, very stale doughnuts. Either way you are not willing to break teeth on them or cause a divorce by feeding you man what is totally inedible, remember he married you for your excellent cooking and baking abilities.
You then politely hand the box back to the smiling and now confused face and say that perhaps you won't be purchasing doughnuts today. You get glared at, mumbled at and then the body retreats rather quickly in case you are going to ask for the Manager, but that elusive creature is seldom found in South African supermarkets these days.
Never mind though doughnuts are a bit fattening and fruit is healthier so off you toddle to the fresh produce section only to find a poor selection of previously frozen and now half thawed fruit that you would be embarrassed to serve to the birds that visit you for their daily lunch.
With basket half empty and mind wondering about what you can produce for afternoon tea you stand patiently in a queue waiting your turn. Once at the till, and to save the planet, you hand the packer your plastic packet that you paid good money for only last month.
What happens then is tragic, she gaily picks up the heaviest item that you have purchased and rams it into the bag so hard that the bottom tears and your bag is now nothing but another bit of refuse. Are the supermarkets paying their staff bonus's to break customers bags, it must increase their sales when their staff rip and tear the customers property. Here I must add If I have only paid 20 something cents for a plastic bag it does not matter the bag is my property and the shop staff have no right to break it. I think the supermarkets should be made to replace plastic bags belonging to customers if their staff have so blatantly or carelessly broken them.
Finally I get home hot and bothered because my shopping experience has been anything but good. I make some scones, and plan apple crumble for pudding (with homemade custard obviously), bring out the cups and serve tea. Hubby is happy and I am happy, my own baking as usual is fresh, light and fabulous.
I must add however there is a taste of sour grapes in my mouth as just once in a blue moon I would like to purchase some form of supermarket fresh food that really is fresh.

There's something about Africa.

Sometimes I only need to see something like this to make living in Africa something very special.