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An Eventful Vacation

My long awaited annual vacation in South Africa finally drew close and I booked and paid for our holiday accommodation before I left Riyadh. The accommodation I booked, Pumula Cottage on the South Coast, looked good in the photograph on the internet and at R1500/day I was confident that I’d booked a great place for the family vacation to the coast.

Although it turned out that Michael couldn't get leave until the day after our booking started, and the owner/agent wasn't interested in giving us the one-day credit, our anticipation and excitement remained high. We set off in the early hours and when got to Hibberdene some eight hours later. My GPS led us to a really crappy house at the end of a dirt-road cul-de-sac where a motley collection of dogs was on hand to greet us. Once we had established that we were at the wrong place the dogs loudly  wished us bon voyage as we departed. Michael was obliged to reverse our vehicle and trailer along the dirt road as there was no place to turn, and the fact that there was a steep drop-off on one side and that the trailer was largely invisible below the back window of our vehicle made this a challenging operation.

In due course we arrived at Pumula Cottage, which turned out to be an old house in thesuburbs. We subsequently discovered that it had been standing empty for some months

Pumula Cottage

and clearly no one had been allocated to air the house from time to time. The whole place had a “mif” smell about it. Apparently the beds had also been made up several months ago as the bedding also smelt mif. After opening all doors and windows we sat out the back where we had a rather stunning sea view. The smell in the house was so bad that a cockroach came scuttling out of the window to join us outside in the fresh air.

View from Pumula Cottage

When we went to make coffee, we found that the dishes needed a rewash – whoever had washed the crockery and cutlery previously clearly didn't have their heart in it. We also avoided putting the washed dishes on the drying rack as it had mold growing on it. Reading the “visitors book” in the lounge was rather enlightening; all previous tenants (about 5 of them over the years, the most recent at the beginning of 2014) seemed to have enjoyed their stay. One mentioned that the washing-machine was very comfortable while for another, the pretty doilies made it all worthwhile. Comments that Margaux and I added to the book were somewhat less complimentary.

We decided against braai-ing at the “cottage” and instead went for supper at the local Spur in Port Shepstone. Our waiter was Toby, and on the evidence, he had only recently completed his training. We ordered drinks and waited.  And waited. Eventually I snagged another waiter who went to Toby’s aid and helped him get it all together. Sadly, Toby still hadn't got the hang of this serving thing and

Patiently waiting for the drinks to arrive

brought our main course before bringing our starters. After we explained the correct sequence to him he removed the main course and cheerfully brought our starters. When he returned the main course to our table it had in the meantime gone cold. By now I had the better part of a bottle of Graca inside of me and was quite able to take these ongoing developments in my stride.

We went home and went to bed, heads on the mif pillows, covered by a mif duvet and breathing the mif air.

In the morning we decided that there was no way we could spend the rest of the holiday here. We found that the resort where we had stayed last year had vacancies and

Chilling in pleasant surroundings

thatafternoon we were able to move in. We couldn't hire one chalet for the duration, but had to move to a second one the day before Christmas. However, just the fact of being in bright, modern and clean surroundings made this a minor matter. Unfortunately we had to hire the new accommodation for a day longer than we were able to stay as Michael had to return to work for month-end. In total we paid for three days accommodation that we were unable to use, but c'est la vie.

Meanwhile, I had contacted the agent for Pumula Cottage to tell her that we had vacated the premises and that a refund would be appreciated. She immediately arranged a meeting between herself, the owners and us at the cottage to discuss the issues. The owners turned out to be a very large farmer  with an extremely firm (intimidating?) handshake and his mousy but acerbic wife. She opined that we were being picky and just needed to keep the doors and windows open to clear the smell, while he felt that cockroaches and mold were only to be expected in the Kwa-Zulu heat and humidity. They conceded that the debris that had fallen into one of the baths (there was no shower) from the ceiling probably wasn't a good thing and that the roller blind that fell off the wall when we tried to close it didn't testify to the highest quality of workmanship.

She (the mousy wife) handed down her judgement, saying that if they were able to rent the premises out again immediately she would be prepared to refund us.  I courteously explained that my position was that I really wasn't really too fussed whether they were able to rent the premises out again or not, immediately or ever, either way I wanted my money back. Bearing in mind that the place had been standing empty for seven or eight months I really didn't rate their chances very highly of getting another tenant at short notice.

On that note we returned to our pleasant chalet.  We awoke the next morning to the news that some chalets had been burgled during the night. We were obviously next on the

Season of giving... and taking

burglars’ list as our patio window had been opened wide and a cowboy hat had been abandoned on our patio. It was our good luck that the baddies had been disturbed before they entered our chalet. The pickings would have been rich - all my technological toys were on the table and all the Christmas presents were on display.

Umzumbe beach

Overall the weather was good andChristmas day was great, despite the kids dragging us out of bed at 5am. On Boxing Day Margaux’s wound from her previous operation burst open and Michael took her off to hospital where she was admitted with a raging infection. The doctor said she would need an operation and that there was no way she could return to Johannesburg with us. This posed certain problems, namely, how to get Margaux home. I found an airline that flies from Margate to OR Tambo, with one ticket available on the 1^st January and one on 5^th January. The ad warned that not all of their aircraft had lavatories.

On the second last day Deangelo had his toenail ripped off when a nurse opened swing doors at the hospital while he was standing in from of them. Luckily she was a pediatric nurse and was able to sort him out very quickly. Keagan meantime seemed to have picked up a bug and spent a goodly portion of the day groaning quietly on the sofa. The weather for our last two days was dismal, but on a positive note Margaux was discharged from hospital and given the all-clear to travel home with us.

I probably won’t look back on this trip to the coast with too much nostalgia, but it certainly was an eventful ten days.

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PS: If you find yourself in need of an estate agency on the KZN South Coast, I would recommend Cheryl Mcinnes, the principle of CAM Properties. She is caring, professional and operates with integrity.  Contact her on  (039) 6952236 or cheryl@camproperties.co.za

Gail Anne Pegg

Gail Anne Pegg: 31 October 1943 – 31 July 2014

Much younger siblings

Gail was the elder of my two sisters. Her stormy relationship with our father was to affect all of her relationships with men and she spent the last years of her life living alone. Growing up, we used to fight incessantly but the roots of sibling love and respect were well established.

Gail always lived life on her own terms. If I were to dedicate a song to her memory it would be “I did it my way”. For many years she ran her own medical aid brokerage business from home and when the time came, she made the move to selling property. She was a respected agent and was held in high esteem by both her colleagues and her clients. She was the champion of the underdog and always spoke up fearlessly against injustice. Although never financially comfortable she regularly donated to charity and was always there to help the less fortunate. It was part of her humanity that she felt great empathy for others.

She was extremely technologically challenged. I have lost count of the number of times she would say “Won’t you have a look at my computer? It’s…”, “My internet isn’t working, what’s wrong?”, “I can’t record my soapies. Please have a look…”, “My TV picture is gone”, “Why does my phone…”. She never remembered passwords and whenever we needed one to fix something she would scratch through books and papers and drawers looking for a hint. I must confess that I often became irritated with her helpless phone calls, muttering under my breath the whole time I was assisting her with her latest electronic problem.

Saturday mornings

Saturday mornings were when we would spend time together. She always ensured that she had beers for me and we would sit on her little patio discussing life, politics, religion and relationships (and the neighbors). She was very proud of her tiny garden and was very offended by neighborhood cats pooing in her pot-plants. Her tiny rose bush was her special pride and she used to talk to it to encourage it to keep its occasional bloom until I had seen and smelt it. I used to tease her and tell her that it was the most depressed looking rose bush I had ever seen. She would also chase the pigeons away from the bird seed she put out because they were “too pushy and arrogant”.

Family and friends were the most important things in her life. She was fiercely loyal and didn't care if you were right or wrong; if you were one of “hers” you had her full and unconditional support. She was good at reading personalities and used her numbers to gain insights into people. Friends and colleagues alike would approach her to ask what sort of trends their numbers indicated and to get her take on their relationships. She always gave of her time and energy selflessly.

The alcove under the stairs where she had her computer was also where she honored all those who were significant in her life. Dozens of photos lined the walls there – important people in her life, milestones achieved (hers and others) and happy events remembered. Some photos went back many years and all had a story.

During her illness she was unfailingly positive. Although angry and irritated at her loss of mobility and independence she found the positive and the good in the difficult circumstances. She was happy to be able to see the inherent goodness and caring of the people around her. She was deeply moved by all the expressions of love from so many and she was gratified and a little amazed to see just how many people truly cared for her. I believe it made her passing easier to know that her life had positively affected so many other lives.

Our Saturday morning discussions included talking about death and I know she had absolutely no fear of death. She knew that the death of this body was a natural part of living and was not to be feared. She said that she wanted to be the first one to go so that she wouldn't have to deal with the grief of losing a loved one. She had a horror of becoming a “burden” and often said she would rather leave the planet than become a problem for her loved ones. She ceaselessly worked at understanding and bettering herself and achieving her own high levels of integrity and goodness. She often said that she would love to soar like an eagle, high above the earth. 

I believe that she is now doing that.

To Whack or Not to Whack?

I recently had a FB-type debate with a lady on the merits or otherwise of spanking in schools and at home. Of course this is one of those debates like gun-ownership, abortion and capital punishment that have no definitively right answers; nonetheless, these areas are fraught with experts eager to share their insights and opinions with the world at large. Personally, I enjoy debates. It gives me an opportunity to air my views and to hear and consider views that differ from my own. One of the benefits is that in presenting my view I need to re-evaluate my own stand and hence decide if it is still valid for me. Previously unconsidered aspects may shift my point of view.

In theory anyway, this is how it works; the give-and-take of ideas and the thoughtful and courteous consideration of your opponent’s views. In reality it often goes decidedly pear-shaped. An evangelising spirit can easily creep into the proceedings and there is a subtle shift from presenting one’s view to proselytising. When proselytising doesn’t work, the next stage is often name-calling and ridicule (ridicule, of course, says far more about the ridiculer than the one being ridiculed.) But I digress...

The nub of this lady’s argument is that some research indicates that spanking is experienced as traumatic by children (some may say that’s the whole point) and causes lasting damage to the psyche with an increased tendency to violence later on in life. Also, that spanking teaches children that violence is acceptable. The warning is also sounded of a likelihood to develop tendencies similar to those exhibited by the male protagonist in “Fifty Shades”.

One contributor to the debate sanguinely equated a swat on the backside to “lighting a child’s hair on fire” (sic). The lady with whom I was debating was apparently quite overcome by the depth of vision demonstrated by this analogy, while another contributor was apparently unable to discern a difference between disciplining a child and assaulting an annoying adult.

I always feel a little uneasy when interacting with people who see the world, and particularly humans,  in terms of black and white with no shades of grey (no reference to the book intended). These people seem to feel that it is reasonable to place huge segments (or even all) of humanity into neat packages and declare them homogenous. For example, saying that listening to classical music is beneficial for everyone or that all smokers are self-centred. This is taking Behaviourism to a dangerous extreme: in any human, applying stimulus “A” will result in response “B”. From this they extrapolate that applying hand ”A” to backside “B” damages psyche “C”. 

In my opinion, humans are a tad more complex than that.  My viewpoint is that maybe other factors need to be included in the equation. I do not intend to go into detail here of the entire debate (https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=615539718472668&set=a.615539685139338.152980.229009330459044&type=1&comment_id=95871323&ref=notif&notif_t=photo_reply&theater if you are really interested). The arguments I tried to raise included the need to prepare our offspring for the real world, teaching boundaries and respect  and other life skills, and especially that our actions have consequences. I also touched on emotional and mental violence (practiced by both adults and children) which is more insidious. And that it is the responsibility of the parent to teach these life skills, not the school-teacher.

Also, it seems to me that if we are on a mission to make our children’s lives as idyllic as possible, then the approach should be holistic. There is much peer-reviewed research that shows correlations between child obesity and adult obesity and disease and hence the need for a healthy diet. There is also tons of research that shows that children of parents who smoke are more likely to become smokers themselves. Tons of research exists that shows beyond doubt that some children are traumatized by witnessing their parents fighting. The effects if divorce are well documented. And of course, your favorite and mine... too much TV and Playstation and X-Box! I could cite many other examples, but I’m sure you get my drift. To latch onto one isolated aspect with a triumphant cry of “Schultz!! I have it!” is to have a rather one dimensional outlook.

Now it seems to me that many parents who condemn spanking are quite happy to justify other forms of abuse when their own “well-being” is on the line. We all know the sort of ingratiating guff that gets trotted out: “he won’t eat unless he has a big mac”, “cigarettes are my only vice”, “it’s her bitchiness that starts the fights – I can’t help it”, “I need a few drinks when I get home just to unwind and the TV keeps them out of my hair” and so and so on ad nauseum. 

So yes, ban spanking but take care of the other business too, including the stuff that may call for some personal involvement and sacrifice.  Don’t send your undisciplined little darlings to school and say “fix please”. And if the danger does indeed exist that a smack on the bum will be a lastingly unhappy experience for the child, perhaps we need to weigh up the pros and cons of that smack - just maybe more good than harm is done and the price paid for a lesson learned early in life can turn out to be a bargain later on. In any event, all actions have both positive and negative aspects. Whichever course of action you follow you can be sure that there will ALWAYS be a price tag.

I raised many of these points during the debate, but I didn’t really get the feeling that I was being heard. Or, indeed, even carefully read. My impression was that my opponent was so intent on kindly helping me to see the error of my ways that she dismissed these other issues as irrelevant distractions. She just allowed me the space so that she could fire her next salvo of URLs.

My outlook after this debate is largely unchanged and not just because of the debating style of my opponent. A point worth remembering is that while you are conditioning your charges (a la Skinner), you are also being conditioned. If you are rewarded by a good result from time-outs and positive reinforcement and such, you are pretty likely to repeat the technique and good for you! But sometimes, when all the “softer” options have failed, something more is needed to extinguish the anti-social behavior. Love isn’t just huggy and fuzzy... sometimes love is a stinging whack on the bum or a metaphorical kick up the backside.

To say that spanking is abusive and bad for all children is as silly as saying that all children will benefit from spanking. There is no “one-size-fits-all” with humans – we are wonderfully diverse and multi-faceted and we all respond to life in our own wonderfully unique way. To treat children as a homogenous mass all with the same needs, emotions, outlook, personality and responses is at best patronizing. 

Our society is built on the premise that those who refuse to behave in a socially acceptable manner will have to face consequences. It is a lesson learnt more easily in childhood than later in life.

Spam

Spam filters on email servers have greatly reduced the amount of spam landing in our inboxes. I used to be touched at the number of unknown but caring strangers who were deeply concerned about the dimensions and rigidity of my reproductive member and who offered me a sure-fire solution - for a financial consideration. I also still remember being reliable informed, with text and photographs, (photographs don’t lie, do they!!!?) that KFC had bred a chicken with no feathers or beak (they were still working on training them to roll in batter and hop into the hot oil.) And the AIDS infected syringes in coin return slots, used condoms in McDonalds play pens,  knockout chemicals on business cards, people waking up with their kidneys removed, deadly spiders under toilet seats, deadly toxins from car-seats, cooking an egg between two cell phones using their radiation, Mars appearing bigger than the full moon... and... and... and...

And then there are the heart-rending stories of missing/abused/kidnapped/lost/deformed/terminally ill children, complete with photographs (and photographs don’t lie, do they??). These often include a contact number or email and as far as I can tell, no too many people take the trouble to check these are valid contact details before hitting the "forward" button. Out of the 20 or 30 such emails I have received over the last year or so, exactly one (1) proved to be genuine, and that one I forwarded.

And then there are the “causes”; if you are the 10,000^th name on this list, please forward to stpeter@gullible.com. Again, nobody seems to take the trouble to verify that the nominated recipient even exists. I have yet to send a verifying email that didn’t bounce. But again, these mails get forwarded with manic abandon. And nobody seems to wonder how the hundreds of nearly identical lists (with only the bottom name to differentiate it from all the others) can possibly be collated or verified. Eish! For these people I suggest a visit to www.avaaz.org. 

You get mails that appear to have no purpose other than to spread fear. They will warn you about “new” criminal methods; like, "they" will overtake you and force you off the road, so be careful. Really? What will you do? Drive faster so that no one can overtake you? It’s like warning someone that an asteroid will be hitting the earth in the next few days. What the hell are you going to do about it???

And let’s not forget those nauseating ones that are full of syrupy platitudes, and if you are my friend you will send this back to me!! This is how I prove friendship? By dumping insincere crap into your inbox?? And wasting your expensive bandwidth?? If you were my friend you wouldn’t send me such swill in the first place. Rather send me a one-sentence mail that comes from your heart.

How about those that that advise that if you love Jesus you will forward “his” email? The fact that the mail usually contains nothing more than tired platitudes seems to be irrelevant. Even more mind-boggling is the implied assertion that Jesus is checking our mails and making sure that we are promoting his cause – and he will get you on judgment day if you only forward it to 6 people instead of 10! (I won’t even comment on the remarks/prayers directed to Jesus on the social networks.)

Although most people smile wryly when they receive this sort of rubbish, and maybe consider blacklisting the sender (Non-sequitur: I wonder if Malema would be offended if he was to be white listed??) before hitting the delete key, there are those who believe that it is quite likely that they will receive valid, important news via an anonymous chain email that the mainstream media have somehow missed.

While all of this can be mildly amusing, there is a darker side to spam. It is hate mail, where an individual, organisation or group is vilified with infamous lies - and these too are forwarded with nary a qualm or thought. 

High on this list is Islam. The gap left by the demise of communism is now filled by Islamophobia - all that fear has to go somewhere, doesn't it? Muslims will soon take over the world!!! Our cheer-leaders will have to wear burkhas and long robes! Old-testament intolerance will return!!

Or how about the email with a photo (photos don’t lie, do they) of a rather unfortunate looking individual who, it is claimed by the annonymous sender, is guilty of devil-worship, ritual murder, paedophilia, bestiality, terrorism, wife beating and smoking in public. Does it get forwarded? You betcha!

I guess what I’m saying is that if you get a mail that has absolutely astounding news that 702 don’t have yet, think!! If you get a photo of Obama worshipping in a mosque or a photo of 20 adult Arab gentlemen marrying 7 year old girls – think!! If you receive photos of four-winged mutant chickens bred by KFC, think! Failing that, check with www.snopes.com .   

There’s a reason that this gob-smacking news hasn’t appeared in the mainstream media! And really, what are the chances that really life-changing info will come your way via an anonymous viral email?

 On the plus side, I once met, and had a wonderful (if rather short-lived) relationship with, a lovely lady that I met as a result of a chain mail.