Tuesday, 11 December 2012

The Cappuccino Revolution coming near you!!

We will look back on this century when coloureds in South Africa always finds themselves in the middle. During apartheid we were there between black and white and so we remain now in the new government. Always a nation in the middle, like a penny polony between bread. Our main factory is in Cape Town where we do enjoy a little rule of the land. But no more. The world is changing in our favour. The years of too white to be black and too black to be white is soon behind us. Soon we will play golf and listen to hip hop from our pimped golf carts while drinking Rose.

Its all math you see. We will have brothers and sisters spreading in huge numbers all over the world. I compare this to the spread of GMO (Genetically Modified Organisms) When you have a farm of natural corn growing next to a farm with GMO corn there is a natural germination that mixes and engulfs the natural corn wiping it out. So is the spread of coloured people. With time we will mix, produce and reign. I will conscientize my Cappuccino son to this revelation. He has the best of both worlds and can be proud of it. As more interracial couples have families so every time the world becomes more coloured. I predict that in 100 years coloureds will be the majority population in the USA, with small pockets of black and white folks living like the Amish in the South West. To such an extent our coloured government will drop food packages on their farms and leaflets promising we mean peace.

Now is the time to start a new movement of Cappuccino babies. A movement that will place a cappuccino at the head of every first world government. We already took the USA - thanks Barrack - South America is already ours thanks to our olive skinned cousins. The middle East is ours already except those brothers are slightly more difficult to control because, cause right now their women cant even control the men as the sisters are not even allowed to drive yet. We have to leave Asia to our Indian cousins to spread the coloured babies and promote the movement there. And for China......I don't really know with who they stand. Will have to infiltrate and send in the storm troopers to campaign there. Maybe our IT gurus can spread the propaganda by infiltrating their heavily restricted Internet.
Russia is my only big worry at the moment. Those buddies will be very difficult to infiltrate, thank goodness for their drinking problems because it will be in the pubs that we start our campaign. We should work on a vodka that makes you colour blind therefore facilitating our invasion. They are very paranoid still so we will need more than a dirty dozen for this mission. Russia will be the final frontier but the rest of the world will be ours by then!

For now we will fight for Cappuccino rights in every country and instill a sense of pride for having the moves of a black hip hop mogul with the refined diet of a lily white tennis player. We will start by issuing millions of stickers and post cards to be posted in all cities creating a Cappuccino Lets Take the Night Campaign. This will prove that now we are the 25% but soon will will be 75% so watch out and pay respect now. We will start an online campaign and have Denzel Washington star in a short Youtube video which will take the world by storm. We will have the people write to governments and senators demanding our right to rule purely because of the majority we represent in all countries.

The measure of our success is simple. We will be the rainbow nation in all countries across the world. We will be the most adored and favoured. Both for our compassion for the other two races we come from and for the need never to sun tan. The future will see us convert all salad bars and fried chicken stands with gatsby and bunny chow restaurants. This will truly mean we have arrived!!

The Cappuccino revolutions success will also depend on Trevor Noah to be our minister of propaganda. His subterfuge would promote our beautiful skin colour while maintaining an aggressive breeding program.  Well you get the picture.

In 120 years our future leaders will discover this blog and hail me as the Hagel, Nietzsche, Chamberlain & Gobineau of this new Flower Power Reich. Now go take a chill pill this was not about you or your people. This is a mind opener to what will really happen to our world. Its the GMO effect, just think about it!!!

Saturday, 17 November 2012

Inappropriate Conversation

Its time to talk shit!! Why would you go through life with the blinkers on only because your society has deemed things inappropriate?

Can you live with yourself if you have never had the nerve to ask your wife how she cleans her bum after utilizing the toilet? Well....... We all know this is risky territory but what do you have to loose? Get over yourself and be blunt. I always wondered whether my freshy fresh ritual was unique to me or if others shared my process.

Its like a standup comedian said, why do they double or triple ply toilet paper when we all fold it anyway? We do, don't we? Well its because we want to ensure we are resourceful with every ply and the more you can fold the more you save. Its taking a shit One on One. I don't even know where to start with my train of thought so just wish me luck. Iam sure there are a few of you who secretly and ashamedly sniff the air for that sweet and sour toilet smell after use. I can relate to you because there is something alluring about a smell so odorous and foul. You tell yourself the smell is natural and its your own personal bodily products that have produced this guilty pleasure. Oh stop pulling your face, like your shit don't smell? I suppose you shit ice cream then? (this line perfect for sturvy girls) Its the same as being guilty of sniffing Tippex or petrol only now its in the comfort of your favourite room in the house.

For years I had trouble sleeping worried that the toilet paper was not correctly on the holder. Its my fundamental and constitutional right have have the paper roll out from under the roll and not over top. Why family do not take me serious when I discuss this with them, frustrate me to no end......31,32,33,34,35........ My OCD compels me, my OCD compels me.
Have you ever taken time wondering how many ways there are to wipe or freshy fresh yourself. You could stand up or stay seated. The only bitch about sitting down is when your TP gets wet from the toilet water especially if the toilet itself is low. So by some miracle you have to slide your hand under yourself and wipe while not touching the murky waters below. Why has no one brought this dilemma up before? Are you just too shy to ask? Shame.

Then again is it normal for you to look at the paper every time you wipe. Its only logical, so you can intelligently predict when to cease with the action at hand. This means you have to wipe shit on a paper and bring it up to your face so you can peek at it. Ya I know.......we all do it, but is it actually necessary. Why I voluntarily want to look at my shit is something even my shrink cannot explain. But am I alone or will you admit to it?

Talking about dilemmas! When I was small but big enough to go to the toilet on my own I experienced the emergency of my life. I screamed out loud for my mother and she came running. She kicked down the toilet door and to her horror found a large piece of shit on the floor right next to the toilet. I could just see a cartoon bubble next to her head saying "How the fuck did this happen?"
As you know my mother needs no bubble or filter so everyone in the house heard her. Its important to put this in perspective, there I was with as scared look on my face under my little afro and a turd on the floor. lol.

You see I realized that I didn't like the cold ceramic seat against my legs. So in my brilliance I decided to pull a crouching tiger, hidden dragon. I would crouch on the toilet with my feet on the ceramic seat balancing while I aimed for the wishing well below. This has worked well for me for a while until one unfortunate day when my timing disappointed me. So there I was doing the old number two when I turned to right to grab the TP on the wall and I misjudged my finish and let one drop as my ass was turned over the bowl on the opposite end. Its all physics and gravity and was not my fault at all. Now literally shit like this only happens to me. Yes Iam a couple of poops short of a sewer but would not change that experience for the world.

PS: World Toilet Day is observed annually on 19 November. This international day of action aims to break the taboo around toilets and draw attention to the global sanitation challenge.

Saturday, 10 November 2012

A beautiful funeral

Strange but we ask it all the time. "How was the funeral?" ........"Oh it was so beautiful! says the other. Does that allow us to like and disapprove? I suppose if they did not serve food it would be a bad funeral. Well thats how I would rate it.

I once attended a funeral where there were 12 clergy sat up on stage. We arrived at about 9am and the service ended at 1pm. I like the guy but brother please, a man was starving. Knowing this guy he probably thought this is my last chance to entertain you so drag it on. Thank goodness for all the singing as it lightened the mood and muffled the noises from my stomach.

I remember seeing some aunty in the coffin and as everyone knows I still dont have a filter on my mouth. After looking at her I said she looked just like a witch. Iam sure my age & naivety protected me from death ray glares if in fact others heard me. I didnt actually know her and I was just telling the truth, which I have learnt in my later years can be very problematic.

Family trip around the Peninsula - Camps Bay
Thinking back to my ouma's funeral I always remember how heavy her coffin was. She had this huge aluminum casket which had a purple colour changing finish. I always thought she went out in style, if there is ever such a thing. Considering my dear ouma was a small woman I must say she had a Cadillac of a coffin. I think it was so big that us pall bearers were squeezed against the pews as we went down the aisle trying to lift this heavy coffin. I always have fond memories of ouma and wish I was mature enough to pick her brain about life. I would of definately asked her how her life was growing up and what are her favourite lessons learnt.

So I just realized how cheery this post is going to be, but for some reason I had to say something about planning for death and living your life with no regrets. Since my dads death 5 years ago I have been on a mission to be prepared for the worse. I went on a manic mission telling my family to make wills and last rights. I must say the blank stares and complete disregard they had for my suggestions were defeating. Ya I know you dont want to deal with this shit but if you dont then your family will be. So I lawyered up and bought every type of insurance there is......well almost. I downloaded wills from the internet and started a collection. Now that baby is here we will be updating our wills regularly. So what Iam saying is, just be prepared. Tell your family exactly how you feel. Learn to forgive and forget. Dont carry old shit around with you. Make a list of all the kak things you did to people and actually apologize. The harmony this will do is like soul food for your karma.

Since the hectic Cape Town party days I have reached across the ocean to mend my infractions. I apologized for the inconsiderate and imbecilic transgressions to people close to me. If not directly, I brought it up cleverly in conversation but never the less had my moment. If you feel that I have not addressed a wrong against you by apologizing, then Iam truly sorry because it probably wasn't big enough to warrant an apology and you must just be a big drama queen. Enough said.  

Family trip around the Peninsula - Chapmans Peak Drive

Indisputably the hardest thing to do in life must be to bury your child or mother. If you ever thought life was great and would always be the same, wait till you loose your mother. You are immediately forced into adulthood with an ugly huge push. "Iam the old responsible person in the family now!"

Only, at my moms funeral will the priest get lost on his way to the most famous landmark in the city. We finally get hold of him and he says to proceed with the other clergy. Ofcourse we told the other clergy they did not need to come to the grave so there we stand with a full procession and coffin ready in the hearse and no priest for the internment. I then hear someone comment "she's not ready to be buried yet" So just like her to delay her own funeral. What a laugh. She always had to have the last word and done very admirably. Going to miss my wonderful mom. I can hear her say "time to put on your big boy pants now"

Your homework for today would be to text someone you love and take them for lunch. Tell them you read my blog and remind them bluntly they are going to die and you just wanted to tell them how appreciated they are. Ask them how they want to be buried, where their will is and who's looking after the kids. Yes folks, its time to be talk honestly about the worst conversation topic on earth. "but how do I do this?" Its easy. Just be blunt!! Your maturity should be driving you to get this done. You will be forever grateful for my advice. I promise.

Saturday, 29 September 2012

Old Torpie

You know you have reached a pinnacle in your life when you consider buying the latest, sleakest and sharpest Mini van there is. Listen......Iam not kidding. How the mighty have fallen.

Of course the wife won't mind spending $30000 on a van in which you cannot pick up any women. The baby seat itself is the greatest deterrent of them all. Havent heard of anyone pulling up to Walmart looking for some MILF action with a mini van. Then again.......

The amazing Honda Odyssey

Suppose the next quick sand of aging would be wearing hand knitted booties and comfy cotton slacks - Oh shit Iam wearing that already. Dont judge, those damn booties are so snug and of course I dont wear them when people visit, they are perfectly fine. Funny how age creeps up on you. One day you raving your hiney off in the club until 10am and waking up on the floor of the bank's ATM room, the next you buying a mini van. Times are changing and if you dont you'll be the 52 year old timer still trying to hit the night clubs in the vain attempt to regain the youth you once possessed.

Dont misunderstand! I come from a long line of party animals. My mom usually stays out later than I do when visiting SA. One night I took the wife out partying at the Gala for old times sake. We got home at a reasonable 2am or 3am. We chilled for a while then fell asleep only to be woken at 4am by mom coming home making a huge racket and cooking up steaks. You gotta be a loser when your mom mocks you for getting home before her. Oh, how times have changed.

So driving around in a mini van with a few babies might not be such a bad thing. I remember when we used to use other peoples babies to pick up chicks. Women seem to love a man with a baby. You couldn't ask for a better ice breaker.

So to regain my lost soul I will buy my dream Mercedes Benz convertible..............with the wifes permission of course!!!!

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Love is.......

A casual conversation became animated when recalling our childhood crushes. How serious we took every element of our youthful experience. One girl said she wished she could go back in time and tell herself that her entire schooling experience is bullshit and has no relevance in life.

Back to me...............So there I was a handsome 7 year old in grade 2. A hopeless romantic in his prime. Aspiring to be the hero by getting a beautiful girl on his side to parade around during lunch break at school. They say a boer maak a plan maar Gham maak magic. And so I set a plan in motion.

I was in love. She captivated my heart with her luscious locks and endless lips. She had the swagger that knocked off your grey school socks. Her smile was so intense in wrinkled my tie and creased my shirt. You get the point. She had to be mine and I would use my lunch money to pay off the other vultures to stay away from her. It was time she knew who her future ex husband was. I would do it the manly way. I could slip her a note with my intentions of courtship and await her approval. It will be graceful and elegant. So at home I took out my best crayons and ensured they were super sharp and in pristine condition. I ripped out a page and began to write those Epic words. "I love you!"

To the point with no ambiguity. Now I had to conceal the note before going to school. I couldn't put it in my case as my mother could see or friends at school would find it. What would James Bond do? Yes, he would hide it in his shoe. There I went with my offer of love tucked nicely in my shoe. So off I went in my tiny grey shorts with a little white shirt. Our tie was black and grey horizontal stripes. My grey socks were pulled up over the knees. Thats how we rolled back in the day. You see, in South Africa we wear uniforms to school which is less stressful and cheaper in retrospect.

I would take it out at break time and allow fate to take over. Of course even the smoothest secret agent has unforeseen misses. At school we completed one teaching session and break time I slipped in the toilets and hid around the corner away from prying eyes. I got the note out of my shoe and gave it one more look. Oh shit. The heat of my feet slightly melted the crayon leaving it a little smudged but thankfully still legible. Too late now, the end was near, no turning back.

So break ended and we back in class. I needed someone to pass the message to my love who was sitting 3 seats in front of me. I needed an unassuming person who would not open the note and make a big drama and intentionally derail my mission. Finally after some reconnaissance I found what in spy circles we call a "dum duiker", I called her over and told her straight up to give this note to the girl 3 seats in front of me and not to open it on her life. She agreed and off she went.

I wish I could convey in all seriousness how life changing this was for me. I am finally declaring and giving into my infatuation. You might think me dramatic but a 7 year old has feelings too damn it!! Who are you to judge?? Thats all Iam saying. Even with such youth the moment was genuine and sincere. Opinions might change as you grow but that moment will always be true.  

So sitting in my tiny desk all nervous and anxious. I watched with hopeful anticipation in slow motion as the note is given to the girl of my dreams. How I would parade and brag with her on my side. I dont think there will be anything in life that would make me more happy. So she finally takes the note and slow unravels the message. My heart stops and I become sweaty. I watch her read the note.

Then ............she..............raises...........the ........note............and ..............tears it up into little pieces :(
Why?... is the question I have been asking for years. Did I write my name on the note? I cant remember. Did the messenger say my name? I dont know. I do know I was shattered. All I know is that I was never the same again. It was a story deserving of an entire Oprah show. Gutted is an understatement, but gutted I was. 


Wednesday, 15 August 2012

Good Ol Times

Iam actually excited that Boyz 2 Men is having a show in Winnipeg. Too bad no one here has a clue who they are!

Let me put you in the picture quickly - its 1994 at 4:30am and my crew is out on a party mission. We are 7 guys in 3 cars. None of the cars could drive over 80kph without disintegrating or rocking like a dingy in a hurricane. If I remember it was a red Mazda 323, white Ford escort & canary yellow Fiat 128. With a few bottles of Klipdrift Brandy and a 5 liter white wine bag we were styling like Cindy Crawford on a runway. Just so happens I had a thousand pictures of Cindy all over my walls and ceiling. Let me let you fantasies don't get better than her!! She was the one and only, Claudia had nothing on you.


Yes we were all wasted because designated drivers are fictional shit that's only seen in American movies. Beside driving with all windows down - at least the ones that worked - the trick is to leave all your empty beer and brandy bottles on the floor so that every time you take a corner their rattling would wake  you up and keep you alert. Yet we could never understand why some mornings we woke up in our driveway no idea hoe we got there - seems the bottles did not work everytime??

Getting back to 4:30am we on our way to the beach. It took ages because the cars split up at a traffic circle with each on taking a different exit. Once we lost sight of each other we were in shit. Remember there were no cell phones and cant contact the other cars. Normally we would call each others houses and leave messages with the mothers until someone called home to check for messages. Ya......a real smoke signal process......but we were children of the 80's and thats how we rolled. Our main entertainment on the drive was called an I-Sing because Ipods were not invented yet. And when you drunk you only wanna sing easy songs you can remember and make you cry! So Boyz 2 Men was the perfect ticket. This is where Karaoke really started. Their songs gave us great times and unforgettable brotherly bonding........but sorry guys you loose out to Cindy........thank Cindy for all the special moments.......I will never forget you. Damn this was suppose to be about B2M! Talk about easily distracted.

Sunday, 29 July 2012

Iam telling you stereotypes do not exist its all in the mind. Or so I thought. So there I was. First time in Mexico. And No I was not scared. Seen Mexico in the movies a thousand times. Got some Jeeps and missioned to find a cave to dive in. We hit some dirt roads and drove into the bush/forest away from the city. So there on the lonely road in the middle of no where we find the cave enterance. So a Mexican dude loitering on the road approaches and first thing out his mouth is "Hey Amigo" I almost had a fucken heart attack. My time has finally come. Everytime I heard "Hey Amigo" in the movies some cowboy turned around a the poor dude got shot up and never saw it coming. I was sure he was gonna pull a piece on me. Maybe he drank too much tequila and thought he was in a cowboy movie. Then my buddy told me to chill because Amigo means friend. Ya I know, Idiot.  
Cave Diving, Playa Del Carmen

Talking about movies, dont  you always see Mexicans with ponchos and sombreros? So every where you turn these are being sold. Why on earth would you wear this shit when the temperature is always 35C with 100% humidity. I sweat so much in Cozumel I drip wet spots where ever I walk. If my wife ever lost me, all she had to do was follow the wet puddles to catch up with me. Can you imagine wearing this thick and itchy poncho over your already sweaty clothing.  And dont get me started on the famous Mexican blankets. They last thing I want while melting in the sun is to buy a blanket. But peer pressure is a bitch and my blanky has been with me for years.

                                                              My bodyguards, Cozumel

Made some really great Mexican friends on my travels. Down to earth, fun loving and with a zest for life. They are all cool and collected until they hear you bragging how much you love hot, hot, spicy food. This really brings out the worst in them. So of course no one can eat hotter food than a Mexican so now they all wanna challenge me to eating the hottest sauces and food. So every dinner is like a Survivor challenge with a mush up of hot sauces from around the world. Everyone trying to out do the next one. Tip of the day: always put your toilet paper in the fridge before one of these dinners. Thats all I,am saying. So to David and Jonathon. Bring it On!!

Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Whose your Daddy?

How quickly the world has changed. Not the other day was I cruising the world as Daddy to a team of hard working party animals who could do 8 months with no day off in a blink of an eye. Every week they worked more that 70 hours and boy did they know how to release stress. Yes alcohol is amazing medication, hence the need for a Daddy.

One year on and we expecting a baby of our own. And now I look forward to being called Daddy for real. We due in a couple of months while excitement competes with anxiety. We are prepping for lifestyle change and entering a new dimension.

Friday, 29 June 2012

Only a few paychecks away........

Greener on the other side...

 The University of Cape Town has a charity fundraiser where they will wash cars in the main road past the university. All the students in old clothes getting wet with squeezies cleaning cars and just having fun. Generous drivers giving money for charity especially to all the cute female students in wet tops. So this is the background to my story.

So I find myself on vacation in Canada and visiting my sister in law in Montreal. Really beautiful city with great people. Vacation is awesome and the food even better. My only peeve was moving around the city by bus, train and walking even though I just rented a car. I was told a car is too inconvenient with traffic and limited parking. What?? Iam not sure why this pissed me off to no extent but it did. This just threw me off my guard because firstly I spent almost a thousand dollars on car rental and secondly in SA you work hard and save well so that you never have to use public transport ever.

So we find ourselves driving into downtown and I see all these white kids trying to wash cars at the traffic lights - they must be from the university also collecting money for charity. Wow, how small the world is as they do the same thing the Cape Town. Then wifey pointed out that they definitely not students collecting for charity. So I told her what we do at home. She quickly put me in the loop as these white kids were homeless kids with squeezies trying to get money for their drug habit. Wait slow down. I cant think that fast. Good looking white kids standing on street corners begging for money?? You must be taking the piss. I felt I was in a Just For Laughs video, until they came over to my window. Oh damn. Whats going on here I thought?

Two years later driving home in Winnipeg from shopping I see more white kids begging for money on the corner. Ya I know, I will get over it some day, but right now Iam still shaking my head. I always need to do a double take as here the homeless are so well dressed with expensive looking hiking backpacks. Decent jackets, nice t-shirts and clean shoes not like at home in SA. Seeing hundreds of people begging in SA is just part of the landscape. You recognize them instantly, you know their stories and can guess what they will try to sell you. But over here in such an advanced society and financially structured lifestyle no one should be begging. For a white person to be begging in Canada means that you have missed a huge fucking sign the size of a Mountain saying "Success this way ->" I guess shit does happen to everyone no matter what colour, but dont ask me to be understanding. Okay, okay, I guess we all a few paychecks away from joining them on the street. So true I know!!

Sunday, 24 June 2012


Okay. So where do I start with this one. The cooking situation in SA was simple. Every Sunday was a big lunch tradition. We would make a huge lunch with at least one roasted chicken, roast potatoes, rice, veg, a pot of hot mutton curry, roast leg of lamb and fried fish. We were only 3 persons in the house but always expecting visitors with bottles of whiskey to come by. The blessing with all the left over food is that most of it is placed straight into the fridge so no one cooks Monday to Wednesday. This is a really easy equation allowing for instant food that only needs heat.

Roast leg of lamb

What a tradition to continue right? Oh no. Not in Canada. Here meals are slightly different. When cooking is done here there is absolutely no food left any where. What? How so George? Well.....let me tell ya what it is. If you 4 at dinner. You will only cook 4 of everything perfectly so there is no left overs. So once you finish that 1 piece of chicken on your plate you shit out of luck. If you anything like me you would be placing covert reconnaissance on those empty pots of food hoping there's a forgot piece of chicken that accidentally slipped through the portion control. You know its a long shot but your stomach is saying "what the fok dude?" So getting near the pots is easy. Just start picking up the plates and offer to wash up the dishes which gets you in a perfect position near the stove to take one good look in the pots for more food. And once again its a FAIL.

Anycase.....now in my own home I cant leave any food in the fridge for more than one day then into the bin it goes. Throwing away food like this is out of control and too much pressure of an African. In SA I have left food in the fridge for months and was always perfectly fine after reheat. I cant be cooking everyday so I make extra to heat up later. No. Dont ask me to make one piece at a time. Iam cooking the whole cow and warming the left overs tomorrow, because nothing is more logical or satisfying.
Not me by the way.


I work in hospitality and clued in with temperatures ripe for Ecoli growth but that only effects people in First world countries and not to a hard living South Africans like myself. Never in my life heard about anyone getting sick from eating a steak which fell on the floor or from that last piece of chocolate that fell out your hand. Normal germs have no chance against my consistency, especially since I was brought up eating delicacies like cows feet, sheep intestine, fish heads, giblets, tongue and all sorts of livers. Oh damn now you know where I come from. At least I never tried fried chicken feet, but one day I will.

So to my beautiful loving wife. If you throw out any of my perfectly good left overs that is less than 3 weeks old we gonna have problems :)

Monday, 18 June 2012

To an amazing woman

This dedication will be a departure from the usually upbeat posts as I do believe life itself should be balanced and not too sheltered. I have always been pro South African and the eternal optimist. I have always argued against ignorance by promoting our achievements and celebrating the heros of our time. I have consistently promoted South Africa by painting a positive and scenic picture for those I have met on my travels taking away the perception of mud huts and animals roaming free. Some people just needed a change of perception as in their defense their expectation is conceived from information and primitive visuals which are found on National Geographic and these heart breaking charity ads on TV.

 I have bragged about the good life my family has and how we have prospered enough to be able to travel the world. I tried to separate the good from the bad and how one is able to have a consistently normal life in a country with such diverse extremes.  I have therefore always despised Saffers who left for greener pastures and who have become keyboard haters of our new democracy, especially knowing that Mandela was essentially caught and imprisoned because he refused to leave the country when many of the other leaders have left to study in foreign universities and fight the struggle from outside SA. I somehow had an overwhelming need to reeducate folks by planting seeds of hope for a country that has such a poor and scary reputation.

This week my enduring compassion for SA has been violent shaken to the core. I was informed that my beloved aunty who was the patriarch of our family had died this week. She was 73 years old but always took so great care of herself. She was never sick and had an extremely active life. I really assumed she was 50 something. After my grand father passed she took over all the family businesses which included liqueur stores, night clubs, bars, a hotel and butcheries. I worked for her for a few years and loved the business. She was always the most conservative in the family which made us rely on her guidance so much more.

Then the devastating news that she was actually murdered. She was murdered by her gardener in the most violent way. Such a beautiful person was taken away in such a horrible way is just unfathomable, especially with me on the other side of the world. I could not reconcile that she could be involved in anything so vulgar. She led the life of a saint, was church going and extremely generous. None of my SA vacations could be complete without my visit to her and spending sometime in her house. If it was not for the pictures in the newspapers of her body being removed from her home I could imagine that this never happened. Our family has never experienced such a level of crime before and has been relatively unhindered by the level of violence in our country. To say that she did not deserve such an end is the biggest understatement that was ever made. She was not a risk taker and was extremely family orientated and her grand kids were the joy of her life. Even as a business woman I remember we would drive home on different routes from the various businesses just to ensure her routine was not noticeable by would be robbers. She was homely and just enjoyed spending time with her family.

I now realize that all my optimism surrounding SA all hinged on the fact that our family was born on the privileged side of life and that we were never really exposed to the high volume of crime which was reported on a daily basis. Did I then fool myself into a false sense of security. Of course not. I knew where we were living and was particularly aware of our security issues. I suppose I did have a feeling that being a statistic belonged to other people who we read about in newspapers and not our good family. Iam now given a rude awakening with such a personal sacrifice that Iam questioning whether I should reconsider my positive outlook. How can I not? I now feel a blatant need to kill that mother fucker who dared to lay hands on such a loving aunty. So now I understand what many South Africans are feeling in the wake of violent crime. Its an extremely hopeless experience. Especially when you hear that the police detectives were delayed as their precinct had 16 other murders that same day. And this is on a Monday! In Canada I live in the most violent city in the country with 36 murders a year but in one Cape Town precinct they have 16 murders in one day. I wonder how many precincts are in Cape Town, then again I prefer not to know or Ill be further discouraged with hopelessness.

For now I will remember my aunty for all the great moments and the wonderful life she lived. Maybe her spirit will guide me on how to deal with her loss and what message I should carry forward with me. Aunty I will remember you for your smile and that special place you hold in our heart.

With all our love
George, Marie & Sipho

Thursday, 7 June 2012

Fancy Third Worlders......

South Africans know how to live the high life in a Third World country.We have standards that First World countries have dropped years ago and yet I have not reconciled why we still have them now knowing how far behind the rest of the world we are trailing in all aspects of society.

Case Study 1: SA supermarkets must have packers to pack your groceries!  No self respecting supermarket in SA would deny packers for its customers. Its taboo and unconstitutional. Even in Finland (the best country in the world to live in) you have to pack your own groceries. The cashier pushes your groceries one side and for you to pack while she helps the next customer. Of course I am the only one in Finland still standing at the cashier wondering who is going to delicately pack my groceries and getting all pissed off with this shady customer service until once again my wife saves the supermarket employees from Armageddon and shows me everyone else is packing their own groceries. You know I never went back there but I had to relax my stubbornness as I realized I could not shop anywhere in Turku without packing the groceries myself. 

Case Study 2: If any petrol station in SA asked customers to put in their own petrol we will never go back there & they be bankrupt in a month. Who the hell is going to wash the windows, top up the oil and fill up the cars water? Voetsek don't even come try. This is completely unacceptable to ask us to give up such a comfort & privilege, while in the the US & Canada they been pumping petrol themselves for years. Yes even when its snowing and your fingers are numb. Can you imagine getting out into -25C snowing weather to put gas in the car then having to go inside to pay for it......Ya I know......its a joke! Our SA society is about 85 years away from trusting locals to firstly find they gas tank and secondly to not drive off without paying. No forget 85 lets make it 150 years, hopefully long enough till when the world runs out of gas, cause trusting our people is as good an idea as water proof tea bags!!

 Case Study 3: Nights out in SA is not that much different than the First World but for one exception. In the First World you could buy a round of drinks for your group and you will die of thirst if you wait for them to buy a round for you. Instead each person would go alone to the bar, buy their own drink and come back to the conversation. Not a care in the world you just bought them a round of R540 / $66. Talk about awkward. I experienced the same thing in Cape Town with two Dutch acquaintances. Dont they get it? I buy for all then you buy for all and everyone is happy. I might be African but I know how to party and have no respect for money, so why are these priviledged people so hard up? This has been happening to me in Finland, US, UK, and Canada. I dont seem to have learnt my lesson as I continue to spread the cheer. Problem is that I have too much to only spend on myself, I would loose my mind and over indulge - image Van der Merwe in a whore house with a credit card. Yep thats me. This is usually not a pretty sight but thoroughly entertaining. I love being the life of the party and getting everyone liquered up but if you not going to return the favour then Iam not partying with your broke self anymore.Now get out your welfare check and buy me a drink.

Try the Canadian drink Caesar below if you have not already!


Monday, 21 May 2012

The day I contracted the Ebola Virus

Flying to Canada for our second wedding we were on flight 4 of 11 flights. After 22 hours of non stop flying my bum was numb & I needed fresh air. What makes it extra long is I cant drink alcohol due to my special condition - verbal diarrhea. Just a few drinks and I have a desperate need to talk and entertain everyone with my wisdom. The last time I drank on a plane I flew at night - I spoke the head off both people sitting next to me who made like they were sleeping to get me to shut up. After a million more drinks I knew where the flight attendants hid at the back of the plane .......so thats a good 45 minutes of talking kak till they start avoiding me and ran away one by one. Then I sink down to stalking people at the toilets like a psycho at 3am. They have to go and thats when the alcohol says......Hey! you wasted and these people find you interesting.......hahahah. After a while I remember there's a crew kitchen in the middle of the plane so while everyone is sleeping I get to entertain and annoy those flight attendants. .......and just before I started the first on flight karaoke session with the easily accessible intercom..... I was given the evil eye to go back to my seat. Ya....right!...such player haters. So this time I flew sober for everyone's sake.

Well we land and on our way home I start throwing up along the road. I caught a bug and the nausea and vomiting continued for 3 days. Being the tough African........ I took a GrandPa & sucked it up for 3 days. Unfortunately wife & her father caught the GI and had to go to hospital at 5am on day 3. We told the doctor I had it first and we just flew in. Then he heard the infamous word. AFRICA. Yes we came from Africa!! That's all it took. The doctor started getting nervous and paranoid. The next day the hospital was on lock down. No one could enter without face masks and special permission. I couldn't believe it. Some ignorant people always blow shit outta proportion. Now they think I brought the Ebola virus in the country cause all they know about Africa is mud huts, mosquitoes, Ebola Virus & Aids - Now I am worried about being deported but our wedding is in 2 days. This is too much stress for an African. Cant we ever get a break!!

This is where I am from, beautiful Cape Town. Its more beautiful than Miami & 15 times cheaper than London. No Malaria or Ebola. I can understand you watch too much National Geographic and your expectation is negative but don't worry I am here to give you perspective.

My wife and father in law were not allowed to leave but during my visit we escaped the hospital without consent and continued arranging the wedding. Not sure how close we came to wearing surgical masks at the wedding but not even the Ebola Virus could stop our special day!

Sunday, 13 May 2012

When in Rome......

When in Rome...... When in Rome my foot!!

 Ya we will pose with you and thank you for taking the picture but you don't get to tell me how much to tip you. 5.00 Euro a person. Is jy van jou kop af? (are you mad?) I saw them rip off a family of six for 30.00 Euro. I don't care that you have a sword, I am from SA, Ill wrap that shit around your neck like a scarf. Step back and take this Eur 1.00 as a gift. Don't worry wifey I'll handle this, no need to be worried. I feel at home with all these knives pulled out around me. Remember Iam from Athlone and do kickboxing. And if they call the cops Ill just speak Afrikaans till they all give up and just walk away.

Trevi Fountain, Rome, Italy     http://www.trevifountain.net/

Trevi Fountain, Rome, Italy      http://www.trevifountain.net/
So the only big money I am spending here is that 2 pennies you have to throw over each shoulder into the fountain so I can come back and take more pictures.These fake fairy gladiators were making a killing through being forceful and intimidating. These tourists didn't stand a chance, and it was pissing me off to no extent. I hate bullies cause the nice people are the ones coming off 2nd best. Ofcourse I gave them shit! I love standing up for others but didn't have time on this occasion to be the hero for everyone else. I had this beautiful city to explore with my wife.

Sunday, 6 May 2012

Romance in the Tuscan Valley

Romance!!! My wife's favourite word! I had to step up & make a plan. So when travelling in the Mediterranean, I booked a trip to the Romantic Tuscan Valley in Italy, for a beautiful scenic drive to a mansion once belonging to the Bonaparte Family for a special olive oil tasting and lunch. We explored old rustic towns along the way and took in one of the most amazing sceneries in the world. We were introduced to the art of making olive oil and were treated to a pure Italian lunch.To go above and beyond on the special day I proved my romantic side by getting into an olive tree and picking her olives myself. What a guy hey!!

Tuscany, Italy    www.discovertuscany.com/
I told her that this place was romanticized by thousands of love stories & movies through the years but this is the only time a man risked his life picking olives for his wife. This is where she was suppose to declare her undying love and appreciation to her adoring husband. Alas......she was not impressed and started giving me a lecture about romance and what I did wrong!! What?.....that's what I thought right?


Guess I will have to Google romance and try again. Have I really raised the bar so high I cant match it myself. Or has all these wonderful romantic movies created a such an expectation that our partners feel disappointed with our menial and modest attempts at romance. I could pull a romantic rabbit out my ass too if I had the budget of a Hollywood studio. Maybe I am making excuses but its not for a lack of trying.

Monday, 30 April 2012

Ho Ho Ho.......(Iam not talking to you ma'am)

Only I can make a drama out of a Xmas party........... The day started on a high. We spent thousands of dollars on toys, food & entertainment. We were going to one of the poorest countries in the world to spoil school kids for Xmas. We pulled up with the largest cruise ship in the world to a small island called Haiti. There amongst the palm trees, white sands and crystal clear ocean 5 meters away we started decorating for our party.

Chefs, face painters, entertainers & Santas little helpers were all in place and hyped up. As we were on a Caribbean beach I decided it was time for a Black Father Christmas all dressed up in floral shirt shorts and a Santa's hat. That was the plan initially and then fate stepped in. So Collette had bought a Santa suit before I decided to be Island Santa. As we were still setting up I humored them by agreeing to put the suit on for a picture only. You must understand.....its 38C with 100% humidity. Meaning that 5 mins outside and the sweat is running down your ass like Niagara. Although we were in shorts it was like walking on the beach wrapped in a wool blanket.

So quickly I jumped into this red woolen potato sack of a Santa suit for a quick pic. I had it on for 5 seconds and felt like a hotdog insulated in a foil blanket. The immense heat made my hands swell up and the sweat in my eyes blinded me instantly. Take the damn picture was all my lungs could shout. Just as I began removing my the suit............who pulls up?......but the bus with all the kids......Nooooooo!!!....... Now they all seen me and going crazy in the bus. I would not dare take the suit off now. They don't care that this long sleeved, long pants and hat is drenching sweat out of me like the water off a shaking wet dog.

As the kids were still on the bus, I gave in and had to take a chance. This was too much for me. To hell with the kids, my sanity was involved and I started taking off the suit...........only to get the Look from the wife........You know that look that just beats the shit out of you for even thinking something bad........I was weak, the force was not with me. I put the hat back on and forced a smile. So I finally experienced how a pig would sweat in a sweat lodge. Adding insult to injury I was given a crash course in French and kept on mixing up the Xmas greeting while handing out gifts. Noel joeelle....something......... By this time the suit was like cling wrap, I could only see a blur through my sweaty eyes & the gift were slipping out of my hands. Then as the older kids came they started making requests for gifts & only soccer balls. If my French was any good I tell them to "shut up and take this". After about a 240 kids I got up pushing and knocking past the kids in the ice cream line to get me some, apologizing along the way. It was the next best thing to jumping into that crystal water.

Am I proud of myself? Damn right! All the kids were given gifts by a Santa who spoke back to front french, We sang songs with them, filled their little bellies, painted their faces and most importantly I lost 6 kgs.

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Colour blind beauty

Growing up I always knew we were one of the best countries in the world. I always believed we were the smartest in Africa and more modern than most countries. There was nothing more sobering for me than to leave home for the First World.

One of the biggest notables was the amount of multiracial couples of all nationalities that I have met. I knew this was possible at home and seen it on TV a few times - thank you Piet Kornhof/Alan Boesak - but the reality of it all really proved how naive I was. This amalgamation and acceptance of different cultures and races also further entwined families of different nationalities. Why are we South Africans still clinging on to our parents racism and stereotypes?  Have First World countries for the most part really overcome this petty racism? I think so as they are decades ahead but still far from eliminating them.

There are some interesting statistics and stereotypes regarding which demographic and gender prefers which but these lead to misconceptions which are poorly understood by the ignorant. We have to admit that the highest matched statistic is between the darker skinned men and the lighter skinned women. The compatibility between these two are really quite incomprehensible but one that is growing with huge popularity. Sometimes I wonder why this is?

Case Study: Black man comes from a R&B/soul and white female usually from BSB/NKOTB. Hhmmm? He eats spicy hot fried foods while she does pasta and salad. On opposite sides of the kitchen. He never once rode a BMX with a helmet while she would not dare to go on two wheels without the mandatory head protection. Its the law! He would jump the line to get ahead and she would wait her turn. He will tell someone to "fuck off" at the drop of a hat while she would say "sorry" and move out of the way. Its just decorum. He would drive 17 years without a licence with a bar in the boot while she would call the cops on him. lol... He would run madly across the street while she would politely proceed to the cross walk until the light allows pedestrian crossing.

Why this match is so beautiful I will never know. It could be the exciting clash of cultures or a balancing of personalities. I know it works and can only say.........."I Love you babe!" Thank you for showing me the recklessness of my ways and blessing me with some patience and the knowledge that I do not need to shout and swear at people in public. Without you I would just be another hot headed South African.

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Oh Lord help me!

Headline: Capetonian runs over pedestrians in Canada!! Lets back step here a little. At school they taught us about traffic lights and pedestrian crossings. Iam sure they were forced to but in reality no one in SA follow these rules. If you crossed the road on a green pedestrian light you will be killed by a thousand taxis running over you like a herd of buffalo running from lions. People in SA think pedestrian crossings are actually bar-codes that police helicopters scan for road names during chases.  More people were knocked over at pedestrian crossings than the rush at an Edgars Red Hanger Sale. They are clueless, especially with with rule that traffic lights don't work after midnight. We only have these pedestrian lights in SA so the rest of the world can think we civilized but its just for show - like your useless plastic car bumper.


Now in Canada - these folks don't play. Pedestrians own the streets and have right of way. I really don't have the discipline or patience to survive here. At home a green light means go. Here it means wait until all the pedestrians are safely across the street while you swear and curse with a fake smile. When I was told I could turn right even on a red light, I thought I was in a Schuster Gag, waiting for Leon to jump out and say "jy is mos befok in jou kop' (you must be bloody mad) You not allowed to turn into any road if people want to cross. Yes ......you have to wait at the intersection like a second class citizen while the privileged class strolls across on their own time. AAarrrhhg

I can only take it one day at a time and hopefully no pedestrians will jump in front of my car!!