I am an atheist. Why?

* I refuse to tell a child he is inherently evil and a sinner;
* I refuse to discriminate unfairly against anyone because the Bible tells me to;
* I refuse to view women as second grade citizens because the Bible tells me to;
* I refuse to believe that I must accept my lot in life because it was planned that way by God;
* I refuse to stoop so low as to ask for godly assistance when I haven't done my duty;
* I refuse to believe God is love when everything around me indicates the contrary;
* I refuse to participate in a practice of eating someone's body and drinking his blood;
* I refuse to believe that suffering before death is a justifiable condition on religious grounds;
* I refuse to believe in a second coming when the dead will get out of graves and fly to heaven;
* I refuse to believe in a god that Epicurus analysed as follows:

“Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?”
       

That Damned Spear!

I'm no artist and I never took Art Appreciation or History of Art or any of those subjects at varsity. However, my mother was an artist and I therefore grew up with the smell of oil paint around me, although I cannot even draw a stick man.

When I first saw the "painting," I was shocked and horrified. It is revolting, awful and not something I want to look at as a "work of art." My first instinct was to view it as a work reflecting utter disdain of the subject - the president of my beloved country. It constituted a smear on our nation - as if the artist were trying to show South Africa the third finger, as if we are the laughing stock of the world. In a strange way I felt as if the artist was actually mocking me - a subject and citizen of this country. It hurt me.

The more I tried to get my brain around it, the more I tried to rationalize the clear meaning the work seemed to convey, the more I felt that the painting was an inappropriate manner of expressing its message.

Then I realized that the picture actually expressed what I have been trying to rationalize away in my mind: the fact that I, and many other older ANC supporters, I imagine, are indeed in shock about the manner in which a once ethically and morally sound organization has deteriorated into the corrupt circus we see today.

The work jolted me into questioning whether it really did not have a point - the point that the ANC made a grave mistake in making a man like Zuma our president. As shocking and embarrassing as the picture is, so shocking and embarrassing have the unbelievable inaction and actions of Zuma been.

Were it not for the explosive confrontation of the picture, I would not have had to confront, head-on, the unpleasant reality of the current ANC mentality and the course it seems to be plotting for South Africa's future (Zuma for a second term). How far has it strayed from the principles and ethical standards the stalwarts of the past valued, fought and died for ...

So - I hate the picture. It remains disgusting, nauseating and forever, it seems, etched in my brain.

However, it made me confront deep concerns lurking in the back of my mind which I simply used to gloss over or rationalize away because of the loyalty all ANC supporters - especially the older ones among us - carry in their hearts for the organization.

I am indeed very confused and miserable at this point.

As a nation we need something to lift us out of these doldrums ... now.

More than ever before we need to LEAD SA now and not try to score any further points out of this most  unfortunate blotch on our developing democracy.

Restraint must be the key word.

If your African Grey flies away ...

I have a four year old baby - my African Grey parrot, Oscar.

Whilst driving home from Cape Town after an absence of two days, we received a telephone call from our neighbour and friend, Eddie, who had taken care of our animals (4 dogs and Oscar) in our absence. He said Oscar had flown away.

Of course I went into an uncontrollable panic. It had been raining non-stop for two days and Oscar would be out there in the cold and wet - let alone a potential prey for cats and dogs.

The minute we arrived home in the early afternoon I went out, in the rain, still wearing my work attire, to search for him. 

I knew that a bird would fly to the nearest high object.  I walked around outside calling his name and as I approached a very tall blue gum tree down our street, I heard him talking, whistling and calling. There he was - high up in the tree - huddled up close to the trunk.

All the neighbours had gathered and Oscar's name was being called from all sides. Several kids tried to climb up, but the branches were too far apart to reach Oscar. He kept on flying to the next branch and then to the next tree nearby. I tried to climb one of the trees he was on too, thinking he would meet me halfway. No way - he simply sat where he was.

My husband then phoned a parrot specialist in Cape Town. He recommended that we take out his cage and place it nearby where Oscar could see it from the tree. He also assured us that the parrot would come down to his cage when he became hungry. He said we need not worry - a bird would not succumb to wet and cold. (My brain would not agree as they are tropical birds). He said Oscar was enjoying and contemplating his new found freedom out in nature where he was always meant to be in the first place. We did that and we could see that he noticed the cage and could hear his bells ringing when we shook them. But he still would not come down.

After about four hours, when the had sun set, I could not see him anymore and he still had not come down, I had to leave to go home. I was heart broken and soaking wet from the rain and the tears. I did not think he could survive the cold and wet night and not having had food for at least a day.

I never slept and kept going to the window to call. When morning came, I was dead on two feet.

I had to go to work and sadly gave his cage, still out in the street, a sad final glance.

Great was my joy when I arrived home that afternoon and my husband said Oscar was in his cage in the lounge!

That morning, my husband had returned to the tree and kept on calling for Oscar to come down. All of a sudden he flew from the tree in a huge circle and landed on our neighbour's balcony where my husband fetched him. He obviously could not recognize our house from outside, but flew to the vicinity of where his cage was.

He was wet through, smelt like a farmyard and looked emaciated - but none the worse for wear.I smothered him with kisses and food and after a few hours he looked his old self.

JUST REMEMBER THIS:

A bird flies to the nearest high point. Look for him in the trees and keep calling him. He will respond so you at least know his location;

Put his cage nearby and make noises he would recognize, like ringing the bells in his cage;

Don't try to climb the tree - you will just chase him to the next;

Remember he is a bird and will not just die from cold or rain;

He will come down when he gets hungry - possibly only three days later.

Please tell all African Grey owners you know about this.

BLOCK ATHEISTS?

I might be entirely mistaken ...

I was extremely pleased and flattered when one or two quite well-known and highly educated persons became my followers on Twitter. I was particularly pleased because they are people I greatly admire and respect - persons I started following immediately when I started off on Twitter not so long ago.

It is to be expected (I certainly do) that persons of that caliber would be tolerant and even critical of others' views which do not entirely correspond with their own and that with their academic backgrounds, they would evaluate and consider such views, if not simply ignore them if they chose to do so, and at least co-exist with fellow tweeters who hold those views.

I receive tweets from people who are clearly racist, gay, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, vegetarian, foreign, poor, rich, conservative, liberal, ANC, FFP, DA and of a whole host of other persuasions and characteristics. I often agree with their statements and very often do not. The purpose of utilizing social media is after all, and certainly is for me, to share and hear the views of others out there, to evaluate them and to react if deemed appropriate.

The very reason I follow people is in the hope of learning from them, sharing with them and possibly being influenced and tested by their views. I thought that highly educated and influential people would have the objective of sharing their views on Twitter exactly so that, inter alia, others might learn from them and be influenced by them.

Great was my astonishment when I discovered that at least two of those tweeters I so greatly admire, have blocked me.

Why, I do not know. I am NOT rude, racist, homophobic or foul-mouthed. I don't attack people, but sometimes attack issues. The only possible reason I could think of is that I am open about being an atheist. I have retweeted some tweets emanating from a conference held in Melbourne and have mentioned in my bio that I am an atheist. I am convinced that that is the reason. But I might be wrong ...

Nevertheless, I am saddened that people of the caliber of the two I have mentioned have chosen to block me. I am no longer able to read their wise and oftentimes profound tweets and blogs and articles. They no longer have an opportunity of sharing their wisdom with a follower and the others that follow her in turn.

And that in modern day South Africa, where freedom of speech and freedom of belief are enshrined in our Constitution ...

I sincerely hope I am mistaken ...

That's township love for you ...!

I am a so-called whitey in a so-called coloured township / village and, wow ... do I love it here.

I hate cooking and my neighbours know this. They also know that I sometimes have no time to cook (apart from hating it in the first place.) They also know that I have been away and have a lot of work to catch up on.

Knock knock on my door this morning. There stood my darling neighbour with a covered plate in her hands. "Ek wiet Ant' Madeleine is te biesig om te kook. Ek het lekka curry gemaak en gedog ek bring 'n bietjie vir Ant' Madeleine ..."

Lovely West Coast Lamb Curry with Potatoes!

I had indeed not bothered about food much over this week-end and had grabbed a roll with cold meat or a piece of toast when I felt hungry and had a moment to extract myself from the seat in front of the computer.

This plate of curry was like manna from heaven.

Caring and sharing is what township life is all about ... AND I LOVE IT!

Now that I am sixty ...

I am sixty and I have just realized that every stage in life prepares you for the next. In my case, the next stage must inevitably be clocking out. After all, people my age are classified as "elderly."

That explains why I find myself so unhappy about everything I see and hear every day: Zuma's issues; Malema's  problems; the plight of the poor that hits me straight in the face when I walk out of my door; the financial crisis we will all face pretty soon with the costs of everything escalating; the killings we hear about every day; the orangutangs and the rhinos; all the international political crises and my total inability to make any difference to it all in a significant way.

I often wish I could have lived in a happier world and, perhaps, at this age, a preponderance on problems rather than a focus on the more positive things, is what prepares us all to leave this world willingly when the time does come.

I hate hypocrites. I hate myself ...

I hate hypocrites, but cannot reconcile that fact with the simple logic that I must therefore hate myself. I am just confused ...

I cannot hurt a bee or a fly. I'd rather shoo it outside than simply kill it. That action of killing anything, I abhor. Yet, I have an automatic spray in my kitchen that does the job.

I simply adore the little white new born lambs I see on a farm I pass close by on my way to the supermarket to buy braai chops. I hate myself in that moment when I see them there - being fed up nicely so that I can enjoy them a few weeks later...

I speak sternly to my son when he tells of his next hunting trip and remind him that I did not bring him up like that. Yet I am the first one to sneak into his garage to see whether the biltong has dried yet so that I can sink my eye-teeth into a nice "rugstring."

I HATE myself for this and have made a resolution ...

TOMORROW I WILL STOP EATING ANY MEAT. I will stick to that resolution and repeat it hour by hour in my mind.

Yep, I will do that ...

To those who did not march yesterday...

I have been criticized for supporting participation in the protest march this week.

Do we not understand that economic protest action is quite legitimate, that it in fact reflects, very profoundly, that we are living in a democracy now and have rights we never dreamed of exercising years ago?

If we believe in something strongly enough, we should have the guts to go out and make a public statement about it.

People were fearful of participating because too often they see absolute indiscipline and criminal behaviour by participants in "strike" action. More usually those types of incidents occur during strike action related to specific wage negotiations as opposed to economic protest action which does not relate to a particular company or industry. Economic protest action is typically about issues which impact our lives as South Africans in a more general way. As a rule, those protests are peaceful and without incident.

At the very least, every South African will be affected by the e-tolling issue - more especially, when it inevitably is rolled out across the country as it probably will be. When it pushes up the cost of everything which needs to be transported, everyone will be affected. Had the citizens of every town and city participated in marches, it would have sent an extremely powerful message to government. Instead, only a few of the those who traditionally do not participate in "strikes" took to the streets to demonstrate their objections.  Make no mistake - a powerful point was made yesterday by the thousands who participated, but the number of protesters should have been in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions.

Many did not want to be associated with the outcry against labour brokers and alleged they did not participate because of that - a lame excuse. It was clearly well understood that certain people were supporting one or the other of the issues in question, if only judging by the posters they were waving about.

Come on South Africans! Exercise your right to protest peacefully and enjoy the feeling of brotherhood and solidarity as you march shoulder to shoulder with your compatriots towards a common goal.

(Someone should organize protest action relating to the rhino situation now ...)

Shebeens? Please leave them alone!

I get so mad when I read about shebeens and renewed attempts to shut down illegal ones

I live in a disadvantaged area. We have several shebeens here. I don't know whether they are licenced or not, but I do not care. There are thousands of businesses in townships, villages and suburbia which are not registered either. I seldom, if ever, read reports that little clothing manufacturers, engineering shops, hairdressers and many other business types which operate from garages and homes in towns are going to be blitzed or forced to register for tax and in accordance with other legislation. It's always the shebeens that make the headlines.

Now, let me put the record straight. I do not drink, do not run a shebeen and have no need for one. However, I know what I see happen around me.

The majority of people in our community does not have cars or any independent means of transport. The closest other little village is about five kilometers far and the nearest town about seventeen. The nearest hotel requires walking across a very busy main road with cars whizzing by. People cannot simply get into a car and go for a drink at a nice pub or hotel. Therefore, a shebeen within safe walking distance is the only other option.

I'd rather my husband drink around the corner and walk home safely without having to cross any busy road, than get into a car, drive several kilometers to the nearest drinking hole and possibly get caught or have an accident under the influence.

The majority of homes here are too tiny for groups of men to meet and socialize. The shebeen is therefore a meeting place for the men and they have an opportunity to interact with one another which they would not otherwise have. This valuable social function, a pub in town, filled with anonymous men from different areas, cannot fulfill.

The shebeens here charge less for a quart of beer than a conventional pub or hotel - that, according to my husband. I have bought a pack of cigarettes there and paid only R 1.00 more than I would have paid at Checkers or the grocery shop nearby. Bearing in mind the cost of fuel, I believe I am getting a bargain.

I understand the issue of licencing, but our shebeen owners are not rich at all. They cannot afford the licences and associated requirements.They run their little shebeens as a social service and not as a huge profit making venture. Our community is not complaining.

As far as I am concerned, the authorities and police have much more important work to do than to check up on shebeens no one is complaining about. If a community is unhappy about a shebeen because of noise or any other undesirable element related to its existence, action should be taken.

But until then, PLEASE LEAVE THEM ALONE!

Steenberg's Cove vs Suburbia - A sense of "community."

Steenberg's Cove is a tiny fishing village in St Helena Bay, on the West Coast. It has no more than 2500 to 3000 inhabitants and is probably what Paternoster once was and sadly no longer is.

What is different about living here as opposed to suburbia, where we once tried to "live?"

A SENSE OF COMMUNITY.

What does that mean for us?

• As you walk down the street most people know you;
• As you walk down the street, most people greet you by name;
• When you don't come home, your neighbour will enquire as to your whereabouts;
• Someone is always watching the children as they play in the street or on the beach;
• Someone knows when you are happy or sad;
• Someone cares when you are hungry or ill;
• Someone shows affection and appreciation by dropping off something - freshly fried fish cakes, a kreef stew, a fresh snoek or simply popping in for tea;
• Someone will close your back door if you forgot to do so before you left;
• Someone will care for your dogs while you are away;
• Someone will lend you something you have run out of;
• Someone will ask you for help if he knows you can; 
• You answer each other's questions and discuss problems;
• You immediately recognize a stranger in the area;
• Children play in the street in large happy groups where the older ones look after the younger ones - houses are too small to have children play inside with friends;
• Houses are close together so you chat to your neighbour over the backdoor;
• "Problem" families are assisted by neighbours - without question and free of charge;
• Houses have no burglar bars or alarms, except maybe a dog or two;
• There is virtually no crime. If you leave your shoes or shirt on the beach, it will still be there in the morning;
• People do not "hide" their less fortunate family members from the Joneses or members of a "club;"
• People do not banish their elders to old-aged homes, but respect and care for them;
• People are immaculately clean in their humble homes and on their own persons;
• People's love and caring are not only devoted to those in the immediate family, but to all members of the community.

I feel so fortunate.

JOIN THAT TOLL FEE STRIKE!

From my armchair, I was quite amused to hear a number of people enquire as to whether COSATU is still going to strike about the toll fees in Gauteng.

The enquiries came from people who are highly unlikely to be members of any COSATU affiliated trade union. However, now that their pockets are going to be affected dramatically by the R 550 frequent users will have to pay, it appears to me they want to hide behind mighty mother COSATU'S skirts, hoping that a strike would be called (which they will clearly not join), but which, in their heart of hearts they would actually love to join, if oly to express their profound anger.

My advice, for what it's worth, to COSATU, would be to use this issue as a means of acquiring more members. Appeal to those non-unionists to join a trade union and to join the strike. Point out to them that they can NOT be fired for participating, because COSATU will ensure that the strike (or protest march) will be a legal one. Challenge them to put their money and energy where their mouths are and for once, to show Government that South Africans - across all that which divides them - are united in so far as the scrapping of toll fees are concerned.

To all those loud voices opposing the toll fees - JOIN THE STRIKE ON 7 March or stop complaining.

Township dogs

I came from suburbia and worried how my property- and leash bound dogs would adapt to a different lifestyle. My worry was based on ignorance.

Our house (and most of the homes around us) have no perimeter walls. Homes are at most five to ten meters apart. Each house probably has a dog or two - ours has four.The vast majority of dogs in this area are well cared for. In one or two isolated cases there are dogs kept on long chains, probably because they are vicious or serve to appear vicious.

Every dog has an invisible perimeter around his property and no other dog would ever dare to cross that perimeter. The little Dachsy from next door makes sure he walks all around the edge of that invisible perimeter around our house when he passes on his way to somewhere.

The beach belongs to all the dogs, but few go there without their owners. They largely remain within their (invisible) property boundary.When they do go to the beach (never on a leash) and encounter another dog, they simply sniff each other and go on their way. Not once have our dogs or any of the other local dogs had a fight. They have their own rules of engagement.

On occasion we encounter people who come to our beach with a dog on a leash. That dog then strains to meet our dogs. The owner tenses up in anticipation of a fight and the growling starts. A dog on a leash is a sure recipe for disaster in our area.

I feel so sorry for dogs from suburbia - locked up behind high walls and fences, confined to yards where they encounter the same smells day in and and day out - year in and year out. Of course it is necessary given suburban constraints.

In townships, dogs are not stressed. It is the exception that an incident, such as made headlines last year, happens. I am convinced that something attracted those dogs onto that property. There are very many children in our village who play in the streets and on the beach all day. They aren't afraid of dogs and the dogs never harm them.

You might say that one potential incident would be one too many. I say that I bet there are more dog biting incidents in suburbia with dogs confined to their yards and leashes, than in townships such as ours.

Our border collie trying to herd seals!

The two bouviers enjoying the beach and sea

I accept the generations' old wisdom of our community which dictates that dogs roam free and without constraints. It works here and has done for the two years I have lived here as well as over the hundreds of years our villagers' ancestors have lived here before us.

Second phase of reconciliation needed.

There is in reality probably only a "them" and "us" for very few South African families.

Fact is, that before apartheid and racial classification by law, large numbers of mixed communities and mixed unions existed.

When the classification commenced, many people had to be reclassified and separated from brother and sister. As time passed, family bonds were, in some cases, purposely severed and forgotten. Many of us must therefore have family members that we never knew existed. Many of us might still have an old aunt or uncle, or cousin that we have never met.

It is time that a second phase of reconciliation commences in this country - a phase where we demonstrate that we really have overcome racism instead of simply our mere "say-so."

It should start in our own backyards with research into our roots - roots about which many grandparents and parents were deadly silent during our growing up years. Research can yield surprising results.

Then we should have the moral fibre and the guts to reunite with those deprived of our love and kinship due to the horror of racial classification in the apartheid era.

Helen's Botox!

I need Botox badly! I earn enough to pay the R 2 000 it would cost to fix my frown line between my eyes, but probably not enough to do my whole forehead which costs R 30 000 or thereabouts, I am told. However, I simply would not and could not do it. My conscience would not allow it.

Helen clearly has enough money of her own to afford all the widely publicized beauty treatments she enjoys. I have no problem with someone spending hard earned money however they wish, BUT if you are a public figure who seeks to portray an image of profound caring about child-headed households, the plight of the unemployed and the economically disadvantaged and you ensure that you are seen and photographed in situations reflecting that very deep concern, I fail to see how you can go to sleep having planned to spend however many thousands on a beauty treatment, whilst a few kilometers away someone is starving due to no fault of their own.

It is easy to wake up and run off to the beautician when you don't have to open your curtains and see a starving child trudge off to school. It is easy to spend thousands on luxuries when you don't have a neighbour who can't earn his living for the day because his fingers have been cut to the bone by fishing gut and you were asked to bandage the wounds.

But you'll feel much prettier when you look in the mirror knowing that you spent that R 2000 on your fellow man in need, rather than on ironing out a wrinkle or two.

Many will say that Helen is a public figure and must keep up appearances. She probably does contribute to the plight of many financially - I don't know. But, the price of the Botox session of today could have been better spent than on such a publicized self-indulgent splurge.

I think a wrinkle or two off set by a track record of selfless personal sacrifice will win many more votes.

Helen, I always thought that you put your money where your mouth is - now I know that you do.