Maybe the end of the road…?

It was a joyous event! The communication, administration and facilities were excellent.

Last night, herself and myself pledged our troths to Australia. Happily and gratefully! We sang the anthem with gusto – it is a cut above the average God save dirges and visions of eagles and flags.

There were 166 new citizens originating from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe.

We both wore Swazi ligcebesha to signify our roots.

Good friends and the daughter of other friends also completed the political genuflection with us.

In order to reassure us in this hitherto foreign land, we were welcomed no less than five times. The MC doing so twice. Of course he was a pollie, as was the acting Mayor, acting on behalf of the Minister of Home Affairs, who also welcomed us.

Auntie Someone, an elder on one of the the three Aboriginal councils corresponding to the clans in the Quandamooka area, kindly explained th origin of the welcome practice. It originated with border control warriors thousands of years ago, welcoming strangers at their clans’ boundaries. I suppose quite a lot like our BorderControl Force.

It was a mild indoctrination session, underlining the importance of immigration which is probably the second hottest political potato in the world today. (The most important being energy).

We got over that and pledged our troths to this grand country quite happily, singing the anthem with joy! Afterwards we each received a little tree to plant in our new country, which is a grand gesture

Certainly, it was the best such ceremeony that I have undergone. I say this with a slight hint of cynicism, as I have some experience in this field.

As a child of the colonial empires born in the 1950’s, I have been wafted by the winds of change and obliged to acknowledge a number of polities.

I was born in Swaziland, a British Protectorate in Southern Africa, now the Kingdom of Eswatini.

My parents were Southern African born British citizens, both in states that no longer exist: Dad in the Cape Colony and a year later Mum in the Union of South Africa – both states now in the Republic of South Africa.

Notwithstanding my registration as a British citizen, I was also a Swazi citizen by birth and travelled on a Swaziland passport. Some years after the granting of independence, King Sobhuza discarded the Westminster constitution inherited from the British and commenced rule as a King in Council.

In an overtly political attempt to eradicate a political upstart, the King ruled that only second generation born Swazis were entitled to citizenship. Consequently, my attempt to renew my Swazi passport was rejected – I was only first generation born.

The Brits chased me away, despite my parentage and registration as a citizen as a child: The right to British citzenship was extinguished by the Swaziland instrument of Independence – a nasty sidestep clearly aimed at limiting claimants to British ‘protection’. The perfidy of Albion!

So in 1980 I was stateless, stuck in war torn Zimbabwe Rhodesia. When I asked, they gave me a passport without any need to apply for citizenship. It was either that or a UN Displaced Person’s Passport – soon to become quite common.

Luckily, my grandmother found my Irish grandfather’s baptism certificate and I applied for Irish citizenship and a passport, which I still have.

No ceremony, just fill in a form, send photos and certificates and a fee.

I am still an Irish citzen. “Go raibh maith agaibh”

Having left Zimbabwe, (which was Rhodesia, then Zimbabwe-Rhodesia), I lived in the Republic of South Africa for 14 years as a temporary, then permanent resident. I was not suffciently in favour of that government to choose to become a citizen, despite the right to do so through my parents.

In 1986 things were burning in South Africa so we got the forms to emigrate to Australia. 40 years ago!

This was postponed by the arrival of one then two more babies…

We tried again in 1996 finding that we had insufficient immigration points to enter Australia but enough for New Zealand. We intended to move to Australia from there.

We arrived in New Zealand in 1998 and became citizens in 2001. That was a good ceremony in a church hall, some te reo Maori waiata, serious and solemn – no tree to plant.

But Australia didn’t support university student loans and we had 4 children …. so we stayed in Aotearoa.

By 2013 most of our children were in Australia or elsewhere overseas, so we made the jump, happily. New Zealand was good to us, but just a bit too far out of town…

Now all our children are here, we have 7 grandchildren and a solid happy home.

I am also still a New Zealand citizen

My last 2 children should soon become Australian citizens and then I will rest.

The right of residence has become the most important thing in the world – to have that in a solid and safe economy and society is a gift that must be nurtured and protected.

From Brit to Swazi to Irish and Kiwi and Ozzie.

No more – Australia is the end of my road.

I am also fond of Guiness.

Prison Freedom

In my daily Tik Tok plunge on Facebook, I saw a clip about the prison system in Denmark, which sparked some thoughts.

Denmark tries to make prisons as close to ‘normal’ as possible. Prisoners have comfortable cells, work and get paid! and do their own shopping and cook for themselves! They get weekends off after serving half their sentences

I have visited prisons in Africa and New Zealand and love prison movies. The Shawshank Redemption, Cool Hand Luke and The Great Escape are among my top movies of all time. All prisons I have visited were hard places, with barbed wire, stone walls and strict discipline.

By and large it is probably fair to say that most prison systems fail when it comes to rehabilitation.

Astoundingly, it seems that the most humane, softest prison systems have the lowest re-offending rates.

Another kick in the guts for we believers in western civilisation is that the bigger the western ‘civilised’ country, the worse the rehabilitation, with a recidivist rate of 70% in the US. Coincidentally, the US also has the highest imprisonment rate in the world. It should be the best at prisons – it’s got the most material to work with heh! heh!

Statistics for Arab, African and Asian countries are scant. Anectdotally their prison systems are extremely hard and many do not survive to re-offend, if they actually survive arrest. For an account of African prison experience, read Beating Chains by Rusty Labuschagne.

Don’t get imprisoned in Africa.

In Russia, at least 50% of inmates have previous prison sentences. Prisoners in both countries are released to fight in penal battalions in the Ukraine war.

Shades of 19th Century practice, when significant proportions of armies and navies were criminals!

Coming back to Denmark and its soft system – its recidivist rate is about 20%

My brother, Mpunzane, was a policeman in colonial Swaziland. In his isolated rural post of Nomahasha, he received a report that a prisoner had failed to report at morning roll call so possibly, had absconded.

Apparently, prisoners were ‘allowed to escape‘ after evening roll call but had to return by morning. Mpunzane was about to call out the District, when he was reassured by the Prison Officer -he had released all the prisoners to search for the man!

They all returned by 10 a.m. with the missing man who had drunk too much at a beer drink and passed out on the way home. Consequently, no-one woke him in time to break back into the prison before roll call.

So Kristofferson got it wrong: there is something left to lose if you lose freedom.

It seems paradoxical: the main purpose of prison is to deter crime, yet the better we treat prisoners, the better citizens they become!

The punishment of loss of liberty is sufficient – there is no need to make life very uncomfortable.

Our views of right and wrong change….

Winter fruit

The late summer stonefruit are now declining in quality and increasing in price. There have been no mangoes for a long time..

I bought some naartjies and oranges today – they are likely to be my fruit staples for some months. I think farmers are going to battle with diminished and expensive fuel…

Damn! I didn’t want to go along that ugly road!

From 6 a.m. until 5 p.m. there is a shrieking hullabaloo of rainbow lorikeets in the big Golden Penda tree next door. They get drunk on the nectar from the bright yellow flowers then spend the day shrieking at each about how good life is!

5 p.m. must be Nature’s closing time as the noise ceases like it has been switched off! Until then it is a rowdy, unrestrained party. You may be unlucky enought to be pee’d upon as they fly shreiking from tree to tree.

They fly straight at you and only veer away at the last moment!

I love them! So quintessentialy Australian.

They are not alone: they have a midday siesta and that is the time that the noisy friar demonstrates his unusual squawking, creaking call which is so unmusical it makes one grin! Every now and then the resident noisy miner flock think they see a snake and they set up an enormous racket!

In early mornings there is also the maniacal cackle of the kookaburras and the crow choir practice, conducted succesively in all four corners of their patch.

When herself worked night shift she used to rush out and clash cymbals at the crows, who still generally avoid Bahr Palace.

Do other countries have birds that are actually called ‘noisy’? I know there are howler monkeys elsewhere…

Life goes on … just ignore the news and keep your head down and all the stuff over there will disappear….

It’s a hard life!

Well …. it was at first...!

Now ….

I live in my own house in Australia. I have a wife, have enough to live on and save and no debts. My children and grandchildren all live in Australia, most within an hour’s drive.

We celebrate occasions and braai together frequently.

I am 73 years old and despite creaks and groans, not chronically ill.

In the past year I have consulted a doctor, cardiologist, and a nuclear radiologist. I have also seen a podiatrist, dentist, and a chiropractor. In addition, I have seen a phlebotomist and a physiotherapist. I visited some of these professionals more than once. All at no cost or subsidised fees.

My doctor at my last medical check-up said: If I had these results I would be dancing every day!

As a pensioner I receive subsidies for electricity and rates from the State. Any public transport costs 50 cents a trip.

In the event of an accident, I will be fetched by an ambulance and treated in hospital at no cost. Most operations and hospital visits are free for me.

If I need a carer in the future, the State will cover most of the costs. Alternatively, they will subsidise costs of a care home.

They may even send someone to mow the lawn.

You will note the absence of a mental health professional in the list. That is because I am wise and sane. I can remember nearly everything! But that service is subsidised too, if required!

I am profoundly grateful for my good fortune. We are truly blessed!

I am haunted by my heritage, which remains an ache but know that we did the right thing.

But there are snakes, spiders and jellyfish and slimy politicians here …. I tell you: it’s a hard life!

Stay Alive

Whatever happens, stay alive.

Don’t die before you’re dead.

Don’t lose yourself, don’t lose hope, don’t loose direction. Stay alive, with yourself, with every cell of your body, with every fiber of your skin.

Stay alive, learn, study, think, read, build, invent, create, speak, write, dream, design.

Stay alive, stay alive inside you, stay alive also outside, fill yourself with colors of the world, fill yourself with peace, fill yourself with hope.

Stay alive with joy.

There is only one thing you should not waste in life,

and that’s life itself…

~ Virginia Woolf

Kindness

It needed a crash to shake me out of my lethargy.

Being inclined to indolence I have a routine, which I follow with minor deviations depending largely on weather and people. I am not a spontaneously social being so take the wider track to avoid chatters.

Today it was wet, as was yesterday and many days before. Walking Lulu, I took a loop to avoid a lady and her two sprightly Staffies.

As I got to the slippery downslope to the road, I saw a friendly feller from up the road …. and my right foot slipped, smooth and fast!

My left knee (with the 35year old carbon fibre ligament) bent under me and I crashed onto my left foot). Oomph and eina!

I am not as slim as I used to be, so I think the earth shuddered. I lay gasping like a stranded whale. Lulu was still attached but soon lost interest. The friendly feller hustled over and inquired. A muscular jogger stopped and enquired. They lifted me up (ooh! I feel a song coming on..). A man in a big RAM truck stopped and enquired.

I felt loved and soo grateful. Every person who saw me enquired and lifted my body and spirit. They ensured I was alright before they left.

It is so good to know spontaneous kindness and care beat in everyman’s chest. I am reassured about the goodness of man.

I was careless, I know the place is slippery and always take care, except when I don’t! Gratitude is a healing warmth.

I am a better man today than I was yesterday.

Glimpses of my life

These are the 40 glimpses of moments, experiences which resonate whenever I think of them.

My Lenten undertaking was to make something everyday, so I re-created and shared these memories.

Easter is my time for reflection and thanksgiving; it is a time of reverence and rejoicing for many.

Let us all pray for peace.

Day 1:                  Pavarotti’s astounding faith in love:…vincero, vincerooo!

Day 2:                  Torchlight showing rainwater running into a fresh lion print

Day 3:                  Electric green flashes as lorikeets shriek by

Day 4:                  Flowers bending under bees knees

Day 5:                  Michelangelo’s statue of David in Florence – artistic perfection!

Day 6:                  Tickalocks! All locked up!

Day 7:                  A wild elephant’s eye from 6 feet away ..!

Day 8:                 Peroop! peroop…! – bee eaters calling high in the sky

Day 9:                 A leaping tiger fish spitting my spoon back at me on Lake Kariba

Day 10:               The view from Table Mountain

Day 11:               The aerial ropeway at Havelock Mine

Day 12:               La Pietà di Michelangelo in St Peter’s Basilica

Day 13: The scent of Mum’s roses

Day 14:              Benny Wessels rubbing his bum in the frost after being caned!

Day 15:              A Mocambique Cobra standing hood-spread 6 inches from my feet…

Day 16:              Drifting down the Zambezi River watching crocs and avoiding hippos

Day 17:              The lone piper sounding a lament at the edge of the Mtsoli valley, Havelock Mine

Day 18:              Ozymandias

Day 19:              Family and friends under the flowering jacaranda at our wedding.

Day 20:              The blare of the trombone and poom-poom of the tuba blown by Swazi warriors on the march

Day 21:              Grilled piri piri prawns a la Portugues

Day 22:              Notre Dame cathedral

Day 23:              A headless puffadder trying to strike the hand holding its tail.

Day 24:              A whiter shade of pale

Day 25:              Daddy laughing at something he read – tears streaming from his eyes.

Day 26:              Pie jesu

Day 27:              A cold glass of beer on a hot afternoon

Day 28:              The Duomo in Florence. Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore 

Day 29:              The Concorde

Day 30:              Candy floss

Day 31:              Roadside Cosmos 

Day 32:              The scent of bread from bakery ovens

Day 33:              “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas

Day 34:              Gustav Klimt’s painting: Judith and the head of Holofernes   

Day 35:              Blue swallows flitting past on a high mountain vlei

Day 36:              The  glint in the eye of an impish bull terrier

Day 37:              Samba pa ti – Carlos Santana

Day 38:              The amabutfo singing  Siya ncaba ka nkofula  on Swaziland Independence day, echoing from the Mdzimba Mountains

Day 39:              Ox Tail stew

Day 40:              Last Post sounding from the Police camp in the evening – Mbabane  in the 1950’s

Unalloyed joy!

Pure happiness.

It is fleeting, visceral, almost breath-taking.

I recently received good news about an almost inevitable family tragedy.

It had been haunting us for five years; frustrating us with futility, powerlessness and rage. And it wasn’t even me who was the target of impending doom.

Worse, it was one of my children and his family.

Faced by an impenetrable wall of bureaucracy, they were forced to spend over ten thousand dollars on legal advice. The threat of an unknown outcome hung over them for over 5 years.

If their appeal failed, they would have to leave their home, dogs, and cats. They would also leave their parents, siblings, friends, and careers over the last 10 years …

I ranted and blogged. I wrote to Ministers and Members of Parliament. I studied the law. I practised my address to the Appeal Tribunal weekly.

He came around last night and said “we haven’t had a beer for a while”. (It was about 10 days after all).

Then he said have a look at your email. I sensed that this was it and felt cold. It was from the Administrative Review Tribunal.

Like an automaton, I opened and read…

The Tribunal sets aside the decision under review…

Ohh Yessss!

He was so cool and calm. I was amazed. Then I realised he was still stunned. That is another emotion to add to the list.

I looked at my Blessed Michael the Archangel candle, given to me by my daughter, who had now been blessed.

My Daddy gave him to me as my guardian angel to protect me against nightmares and chase away the demons under my bed with his fiery sword…

I may still have some doubts about his Patron, but Michael gave me courage which I sent to all my children.

So I give thanks and praise.

What ever happened to Fay Wray?

Unbelievably, King Kong fell in love with her! I pictured those great white teeth chomping down that satin draped frame. But no she had him in the palm of her hand while sitting in the palm of his hand…. this is getting silly!

For those of you, (if any), who were wondering whatever happened to me, I went fishing on Fraser Island (Kgari, my arse*). I’ll have you know that despite all odds: the weather wiped out 2 days fishing, I caught three times as many fish as I had the year before… (in fact, three). I also caught the biggest (and only) bream.

Our gang caught close to 30 fish on the one good fishing day. Glorious weather, golden beaches, azure sea, sublime conditions and compliant fish. Almost excellent… in every Paradise (that’s what Kgari means), there lurks danger.

At the end of the day, when we were cleaning our fish, scaling, gutting and filleting them, we were beset by a pack of wild dingoes! It was now dark and we were operating by torch light, so they were coming in close, undeterred by my secret Afrikaans curse: Voertsek! Only when I girded my loins and lunged at them did they retreat, all of two metres…

I volunteered to keep them at bay while we completed our task and made ready to retreat. The dingoes prowled around or lay on the sand, only about 20 metres away, ominously silent, their eyes gleaming green in the night ….

We escaped unscathed to live another day and celebrate our successes, leaving the dingoes to dig up our fish carcasses, diligently buried between high and low water lines.

Actually there were only two dingoes, who were quite polite, although while we were fishing, one did jump into the back of our Prado, three times. Fortunately it did not find our vital supplies of beer and droe wors.

Hej!

As some of you may recall, I ride a bike in the early morning … sometimes I fall off, but not for a while, touch wood.

I make a point of smiling at and greeting everyone I pass by. Surprisingly quite a few are miserable buggers who just scowl. I also make a point of greeting their dogs, which usually makes them smile … the owners too.

Just to introduce some early morning variation, I greet them in different languages. That seems to work quite well – I mostly get a heads-up and smile these days.

So ….

Hola Konnichiwa

Jambo Hallo Ciao

Namaste

Bonjour Marhaba Dumela Shalom

Bula Sabaidee Ni-hao

Zdravo  Olá Sawubona

Salam Xin-chao Yassas Zdravstvuyte Moni Bok Ahoj Bula

Tere Aloha Sveiki Mhoro Kia-Ora Namaste Salut Talofa

Sawubona