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 ...