DA for women power.

Lindi  should be given as high a position in the DA as possible.   Africa needs female role models for all women in South Africa and the world.    With a white, colored and black femle on the helm, the DA will prove that she is trying to colour the rainbow nation.

The problem is that men do not like to serve under a “*pantoffel regering.”     Remember what a fantastic leader Maggi Thatcher was; even the working class liked her,  but the toffee nose Brits could not tolerate her strength so they got rid of her and the Tories starting sliding down the hill ever since.   We do not want that to happen to the DA so just make sure that you balance your top posts out between male and female positions.  

Anyway with three ladies in the driving seat, you can vote each other in.     Just make sure the female votes will outweigh the male votes, every the time, unless there is one jealous bitch in the hen-hock. 

Men like to feel they are in charge, even if they are clearly out numbered.    Perhaps you can throw a gay into your leadership-position-pot, give it a few stirs and put him in charge of a position as the “Minister for Animal welfare”.    You will then appeal to all animal lovers also, not to mention the group of people with a different sexual orientation.

We, animal lovers are fed up about seeing how humans behave like animals and animal representation is grouped with  “mining and global warming”.

 The above suggestions will put a big feather in the DA cap.

I think there are a few Saudi’s that will want to lash you all for being “*te voor op die wa” but then they have not wangled voting rights for them to inflate the opposition numbers yet.

Of wat praat ek alles.

*pantoffel regering -  Slipper government.   (In this case referring to women laying down the law)
“*te voor op die wa” - Too much at the front of the wagon.

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