Charity?

The 67 minutes of Mandela Charity thing came and gone without much of a ripple in our routine.
Most of the people I know give much more than 67 minutes of their time to helping other in need either on a daily or on an hourly basis.

One of my friends gives 120 minutes of her time every hour of the day to helping someone in need.
She has a daughter with leukemia.

She is now faced with perhaps leaving her place of residence, because the owner needs it for her own family.

It seems that, in my environment, the people who mostly need to be reminded to give time to charity are those who receive it.

Some people become like helpless sponges and just take.

They have the attitude that the world owes them.

It does not matter how badly you are off, a smile or a good word cost nothing.

I remember some years ago, when our Pick and Pay decided to donate the day old bread to the squatter community.
Sometimes the transport would let them down and the bread become moldy.

The people appeared on television accusing the chain store for regarding them as pigs.

In that case it would have been better if the store chucked the bread. They would not have received the bad publicity the got instead of a “Thank you”

People often slap the hand that feeds them. They always want more and more.

They will only become satisfied when they get in a situation where they become givers and not just takers.

I don’t think the time to start giving is when you have excess. There are lots of things that you can give that do not cost money.
We should all be givers. Of wat praat ek alles

The hungry man

Dear Mr. President,

The man, who delivered free newspapers to my letterbox, asked me for bread when he saw me collect the post.

He was sitting on the opposite side of the road sorting the papers. He called the bread by a different name, and I had to ask him to explain what he was asking for.

My first reaction was to feel annoyed, because we see so much food being thrown away by people, pretending to be hungry, to play on our emotions to get money for booze instead. Professional liars.

Then I remember that it has been some weeks since I saw food being thrown away.
Perhaps people are really starving.
The man’s face flashed in front of my eyes.
His skin was darker than that of our local native population. He looked thin and sickly. His eyes were hollow.

My husband just left and I was alone at home. How do I know he was not going to pull a knife out and stab me when I hand him the bread?

I turned my back to him and closed the door so I could feel safe.

Perhaps I am a sucker, I thought. Let it not be recorded in my book of life , when I one day stand in front of the pearly gates, and the gatekeeper refuses me entrance because I turned a hungry man away when I had plenty to give.

I went to the kitchen and spread some marg and apricot jam onto a slice of bread and grabbed a bottle of water and took it to him to still my conscience - or balance my heavenly books … whatever.

I could have given him much more, but I still was not convinced that he was honest.

O, I wish I lived in a country where we can trust people again.
I am at heart a Samaritan but here in South Africa it as called “a sucker”!

Original post from : (http://grannypolitics.iblog.co.za)

Dear Mr. President,

Dear Mr. President, (Original post from http://grannypolitics.iblog.co.za/)
It is still a freezing cold winter morning outside.

It is early still. The time that people leave their homes to go to work.
A woman walks past my window. She looks like someone’s mother.
Her skin is drawn and her young face is wrinkled like that of a woman twenty years her senior.
She is thin. Her legs are bare and her bare feet are inside thin damp shoes. A thin sarong (for a skirt) covers the lower half of her body. A worn, thin, long sleeved faded sweater covers her upper half.
Under her arm she clutches a bag that met its last owner.
She walks as brisk as she can because it keeps her body warm so she can not feel the cold …….
So she can not feel her tummy aching for food. So she can not remember sending her children off to school without something to eat or drink this morning.
Her eyes scan the houses for one that looks friendly. One that may give her a job this morning.

The vision of getting some money to buy soup bones, maze, bread and beans to prepare a meal for her family tonight keeps her going. She can see her children filling their tummies and laugh a joke …… and dream about a better tomorrow. The one president Zuma promised.

She disappeared down the road. I reach out for my cup of tea and wonder what I would put on my toast this morning, honey or marmalade.

Somewhere far away, our country’s leaders are recovering from indigestion brought about from the rich breakfast they just indulged in. They have a full schedule. Many important decisions to make. There are the issues of the mines, the strikers, the economy and the upcoming summit. Yes, there are lots to deal with before lunch.

See how many days until
We reach our goal to MAKE POVERTY HISTORY by 2015

(http://sites.google.com/site/unityinafrica/)

Of wat praat ek alles

Bin People

The bin people - Cape Town suburb.10-06-2009

The activity at the garbage bins is a social indicator for a region.

No activity would mean that the poverty needs of a community are being met.

Today is bin-day. (Wednesdays is the day that we all one wheel our wheelie-bins outside onto our driveways in readiness for the garbage disposal truck.)
They have a golden rule: "whatever is not inside the bin will not be collected" So food, clothing or newspapers must be put inside the bin for the poorest of the poor to collect before the truck arrives.
It is a weekly ritual in our neighborhood.
The lucky organized bin-scavengers come in groups of two or more and neatly pack their shopping trolleys. They stack the trolley neatly and tightly to fit as much recyclable into it as they can. Their dedication to the job is the same as with any other job. This is their living.
Then you have the newcomers. They are not organized yet. The lucky ones carry rug sacks but the very new, Zimbabweans and other newcomers to the area, just have plastic shopping bags. Most of them are looking for food.
There is another brand of the rug sack brigade that has a criminal intent. They look for documents and ID papers.

I heard the shopping trolleys being pushed down the road very early. Were they the early-birds who wanted to catch the best recyclables? --- Or was it the house breakers making for the taxi rank to get to the buyers early?

Both sound the same
They both use shopping trolleys. (Theft of a shopping trolley in South Africa is regarded as a human right.) Stolen shopping trolleys are paid for by the consumer.

I have noticed more bin-scavengers with rug-sacks and very few trolleys this last month.
I have seen more people scratching the bins for food, but today it is very quiet in our street.
Yesterday I saw a woman sweeping the street. It was unusual, because there was not much rubbish in the gutters.

Last week there were a few people looking for newspapers and the box of newspapers I put into my bin was quickly snapped up.
.
I have not seen the glass collectors for a while.
I placed a box full of newspapers on top of my bin this morning, but no-one was interested.
I also put two cracked fish tanks next to the bin for the glass collectors, but it did not draw any interest.

Are the workers at the municipal offices waiting for community work opportunities?
Is the government succeeding in providing work?

The bin people and those hopefuls at the corners of the streets will be the measurement of how well the government fulfills its promise.


Of wat praat ek alles

Narrowing the gap or leveling the playing field

Are we narrowing the gap between rich and poor or leveling the playing field to dirt level.


We had to change our M-net decoder, so we decided to have breakfast at a nearby well-known chain-restaurant.

The restaurant was packed, which meant that the food was as good as it has been for decades.
We chose this particular restaurant because they make nice coffee. We also like the breakfasts they serve at a very affordable price.

The waitress took our order and brought our very hot coffee. The cups were also hot, and I wondered if they heated it up in a microwave. It was very nice, but not “second cup” nice. It was just too hot. You do not get a choice of hot or cold milk, just Xxxxx coffee. Nice Xxxxx coffee, but. I mentioned the microwave suspicion to my husband and he said “What do you expect from a Xxxxx restaurant?”


Next the waitress threw the cutlery, partially wrapped in the serviette, onto the table. No place mat or side plate, we are expected to eat from the snotty-kids-fingers' table. I picked up the knife and fork and, using the serviette, I started polishing the invisible snot from the cutlery. Then I placed my cutlery on top of the serviette. My husband watched my antics and said: “What do you expect from a Xxxxx?”

The breakfast came and it looked very tasty. I ordered, the smallest breakfast of bacon, and soft egg and toast. My husband ordered a man-sized one with his egg well done.

I waited for the side plate, butter and jam, and hoped the place mat would arrive late, but none came. When I said “Is this it?” My husband said: “What do you expect from a Xxxxx?”

We asked for marmalade and butter. It arrived with no side plate and butter-knife.
I looked at the narrow pointed steak knife I used for my breakfast. It was full of egg, so I used the second serviette that came with the butter to wipe the egg from the knife.
I was staring at it and thought it would have been so much easier to use a butter knife.
My husband looked at me and before I opened my mouth to say something, he said:
“What do you expect from a XXXXX?”

Eventually, my husband got up and asked for a butter knife. Another waitress took one from the tray and handed it to our waitress to pass it on to him. The other waitress was not going to serve someone from another table.

I looked at the snotty finger table and wished for a side plate. I said: “I don’t suppose they will bring a side plate?”
He answered: “What do you expect from a XXXXX?”

My dinner plate was a bright egg yellow so I discarded the idea to butter my toast on it.
I considered tipping the butter and jam out onto the table and using that saucer, but decided it was too small. I then spread the second serviette on the table and used it as a side plate.
As I looked up at my husband, he opened his mouth and started to say: “W ...” And I said: “Don’t say it again.”
“I do expect a side plate, butter knife, place mat and butter and jam with my toast.
Whether I pay R17 or R170 for my breakfast, that is what I expect in a sit-down restaurant. I want Spur quality service - even at a Xxxxx!”

“Is this an example of narrowing the gap or just treating everyone like pigs?” I thought.
When the waitress brought the bill I noticed for the first time how sad she looked. She looked as if she was going to burst out in tears any moment. I tried to cheer her up by saying how nice the food was, but she ignored us.

I said to my husband he must give her a nice big tip to cheer her up. We left - never to return again.

One can be so quick to judge, but we never know what is happening in the lives of those we meet in passing.

Of what praat ek alles.

16-04-2009

Parasitic behavior of doctors and medical aid schemes

The heading of the newspaper article reads: "Plan to replace doctors' ethical tariff comes under fire"

It was proposed that as from April patients sign a document agreeing that they are prepared to pay a doctor more than the medical aid is prepared to charge. This means that people struggling for money will have to suffer their illness and possibly die, or go into dept.

It may also mean that we may have to join another medical aid fund to pay the amount the doctors do not cover. Already I have to pay my doctor fifty rand upfront every time I visit her even if it is only for ten minutes to write out a script, she would then claim from the medical aid scheme what they are prepared to pay for the treatment.

I am a sixty year old woman, and my medical aid covers me for pregnancies, prostate cancer, miscarriages, and a host of other problems I do not need coverage for at this stage of my life.
If medical aids cover individuals according to heir needs, perhaps patients have the necessary coverage for their health requirements.

Paying into a medical aid scheme should mean peace of mind when one is ill. At this rate it is more viable for the majority of people to just put that money into a bank savings account for the purpose to use it only for medical expenses. If the employers will agree to pay their portion into such a bank account also, it would be a better option for most people. Then they can just join an emergency hospital and accident scheme for peace of mind.

Medical aid schemes should look at what they pay their executives and see if the money drain does not lie there. How much does the executive earn compared to the doctor? Who works the hardest? What does the patient deserve? Both the medical aid schemes and the doctor should serve the patient. Currently they both function like parasites sucking the patients' emotional and financial health.

It is time that companies learn to create a balance between the payment of executive staff, the profits the company incurs and the service they provide.

Are we eating Africa?

It is a scorcher today, here in Cape Town.

When I suggested to my husband that the least the conservationists in the area could do was to put monitors on duty to keep people and dogs away from the Oystercatchers, that are in their breeding season, here on our beaches. His reply was: "Wat jy waar gaan kry? "(*1) He said that the conservationists are spread too thinly and the other workers would not work over the weekends.

Perhaps we should be grateful that this is Blaauwberg and not Zimbabwe.

In Zimbabwe those little Oystercatcher eggies and chicks would have looked very inviting on the breakfast frying pan, especially if the Oystercatcher was lying next to it. People would kill for such a feast. When one's own life is endangered by starvation; Who cares about the life of a bird?

Could you imaging what would happen if the resource mismanagement strategies from Zimbabwe has a domino effect in other African nations?

If the Armageddon and a global meltdown is not upon us, could you imagine a "heaven on earth" in first world countries with the balancing factor of "hell on earth" in Africa?

Could "Die geween en die kners van tande(*2)" that the Bible predicts, run concurrently with the "Heaven on earth" which is also mentioned in the same scripture?

If we eat, tread on, and build on everything that makes Africa unique, is it possible that Africa will in the, not so distant, future, become a cesspool of disease, crime and dust with no clean water or food?

Already the symbol of the "African lion" and "the wildlife paradise in Africa" is being replaced by the image of dying babies suckling from empty breasts with flies looking for a bit of moisture in their eyes and on their dry, cracking lips.

All African leaders should study what is happening in Zimbabwe and what was the turning point for this prosperous country, and then make sure it does not happen on their own turf.

One cannot blame the first world and past inhumanities any more. We need to look at recent history and blame ourselves. The first world countries poured multi-billions into Africa and created quite a number of billionaires, but how much of that money filtered down to the people it was intended for?

The African leaders have never been so rich and the people never so poor.

Even during the days of slavery, most people had food on the table and many more ate very well.

Translation: Afrikaans to English.

*¹(Wat jy waar kry? - where would they come from?)

*²(Geween en kners van tande - Weeping and grinding of the teeth)

Most people in South Africa are bilingual and mix expressions from two or three languages in one sentence. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new South African language. A rainbow nation lingo.

Rotten apples no food for a nation Sunday

2008 October 19

My eyes caught the television screen. The sound was off so I noticed the imagery rather than listen to the words behind the film.

I watch the wedding preparations of a wealthy African couple. The glamour and glitz is something like from a fairy tail. It must have cost millions.

I do not know who got married, on this day, and I do not want to know.

A message came clear to me. Here is an African couple that can spend the amount of money, in a few hours, which could have been housing and feeding a whole township of homeless for more than a month. There must be rot in the apple of African society if the gap between rich and poor is so great.

Does the money that is being poured into Africa, to make poverty history, reaching the poor, or making them even poorer.

Does BEE empower the unemployed, or just creating a different, even bigger group of unemployed?

If I were that couple, whoever they are, I would not be proud of spending that much money, even for the biggest day of my life. One can go overboard if one considers the suffering of other.

Then again, if I turned the sound of the television set on, I may have felt different. However - the argument stands.