Chocolate Warblings

A while ago I promised you a hot chocolate recipe – and so far, although I’ve drunk mugs of the stuff myself, I’ve failed to deliver...

Addicted to chocolate...

Now while I realise its summer for many of you (yes, including those in grey, damp England…), here’s Absolute Vanilla’s Hot Chocolate …

1 very heaped teaspoon of good quality cocoa
10 – 20 g of dark chocolate - I use Lindt 70% - broken into tiny pieces (the amount you use is entirely dependent on how indulgent you feel)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tiny pinch of sea salt (there is something about salt that enriches the chocolatiness of chocolate…)
1 mug of milk, rice milk or lactose free milk (I don’t recommend soya milk!)
Sugar to taste, it’s up to you how rich and sweet you like your hot choc.

Put everything into a small pot, whisk well and heat on a medium to high heat for about 5 ½ minutes – but do not allow to boil. Give another good whisk and pour into your favourite mug. Sit down and slurp away.
If you wanted to get fancy, you could add a dash of cinnamon or even a tiny pinch of chili, or alternately a dollop of cream or some marshmallows.

Meanwhile, I once more unashamedly acknowledge being a lousy blogger – but the energies, as you well know, are all directed elsewhere at present. The rewrite is complete and has had its first edit – I’m in the throes of working on the synopsis. I’ve also rewritten the prologue and first chapter of the other manuscript and at the moment, I have a short story that is insistent on spewing itself out. It happens like this. I get hijacked by words. And I’m thinking that I should perhaps start submitting one or two shorts somewhere.

In other news – bear with me, I’m playing catch up here, I had a text/sms from Angela. She is unemployed and the friend (who runs the employment agency for "disadvantaged" people) who had said she would help to find Angela a job, hasn’t done so. The friend and I are “no speak” at present, after I phoned up to find out how things were going and was roundly reprimanded for “interfering”. Hmm, well my view is this: when you raise people’s expectations you take on a load of responsibility. You can’t then turn around and say, “I never made any promises”. You just can’t play with people’s lives like that. Angela, loathe though she is to do so, may well have to go back to the dreadful Pecksniff for work. If any of you have any bright suggestions as to how one might help her in these dire recessionary times – and when xenophobia is raising its stinking head again, then I’d love to hear from you. We’ve offered to buy her and the baby a ticket back to Zimbabwe, because things are starting to improve there, but she doesn’t want to go.

And then talking of things recessionary and dire – I spotted this in today’s press – and it does nothing to fill me with any degree of hope or joy about South Africa's future. The pot, I fear, is simmering and it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.

Furious Scribbling... Angela and Bo

Click to enlarge and see the detail...

Scribble, scribble, scribble, tap-tap, tappity-tappity, tap.

Yes, things are a little goal directed around here at the moment, but the good news is that the writing is going blisteringly well.

See, here’s the thing, towards the end of last year, I bit the bullet, trashed my piggy bank and sent my YA paranormal manuscript (MS) to a well-known writing agency in London to get an in-depth manuscript review. They came back with 18 pages of what didn’t work. Aaaargh! It was gutting, especially since so many of my writing and critique partners had said they really liked the story pretty much as it was. It took me a while to get over the filleting and to get my head around what the agency was saying without getting into a lather about it. I took their advice and just let the report and MS be until I felt ready to start working on the MS again. And now I am ready and boy how ready.

I’ve started the rewrite from scratch – in other words, although I have the original draft at my side, the writing has all begun again – which means that amongst other things, I’ve so far cut out more than half of what I originally had and I’m sure much more will go.

I think this is one of the most difficult things for writers, especially new writers – taking a hatchet to your work. It’s far easier just to tweak and twiddle than be really aggressive about it. Of course, those who know all say “don’t be afraid to take a knife to your work” but it’s easier said than done, after all, these words, the story they produce are your babies. Hours and months of writing went into creating them and now here you go shredding them.

The upside though is that what I now have is vastly improved – the story is tighter, the pacing is better, the whole thing more dynamic. My main character’s voice has changed, she’s become less introspective and thereby I do less “telling” and a lot more “showing” which keeps the story more vivid.

So the upshot is that while I was in a complete state about the writing agency’s report when I first received it, I can now see, despite my mutterings at the time, how spot on it actually was.

I should add, I’ve also had a fine time doing mountains of research, which I’ve just loved.



In other news – an update on Angela.

Her interview with my friend Tania – whose Dreamworker website is now up – went really well and they were delighted with each other. Angela worked her last day for me this past Wednesday and once she’s had her baby and is ready to work again, Tania will help her find a job that takes her well away from the clutches of “Mistress Pecksniff”. On that score, both Angela and I have the sneaky suspicion that Pecksniff’s business is in dire trouble. For one, staff members are leaving in droves as reality hits home. For another, clients are also leaving. In addition, Pecksniff has been unable to pay her staff, and has had to get her mother, who started and runs the Johannesburg branch, to come to CT to bail her out – including paying the staff. Perhaps it’s a case of what goes around comes around.

As someone once said to me, all you need is a tiny light to chase away the darkness.



And as for all things guinea fowl… Ms Bo is thriving and growing and has reached the stage where she’s looking decidedly vulturine – she’s lost her face and neck feathers, she’s growing her comb and wattles and her face is starting to turn blue. She’s still undersized but that’s just the way she is – she’ll probably never be as big as a normal guinea fowl, but she should get to at least three-quarter size. We’re still hoping that when she’s big enough not to be at too much risk from the local predators that we’ll be able to release her into the care of the Ba-Kaaka Nostra who visit her daily.

Ba-kaaka Nostra, on patrol...

Right, now back to the rewrite!

Angela's Story - an update

You may remember the last post I wrote about Angela and her employer, Pecksniff… And you may like to know what has transpired since then. The simple answer is not a lot – assuming one is only talking about the authorities. On the flip side, there’s been some great progress.

Following on the last post about Angela, I contacted the South African Domestic Services and Allied Workers Union (SADSAWU) and spoke the secretary general, Myrtle Witbooi. It seemed she was well aware of Pecksniff’s operation and several others like it, which were considerably worse. One “maid service” operation, the worst example, lured refugees and women from rural areas and kept them in a single garage – some twenty women with one toilet to share between them. They were paid a pittance – if they were lucky. Three years ago, one young woman was found dead and the company was forced to close. At the time, Myrtle contacted a local television programme (Carte Blanche) to do an exposé of these exploitative companies. The producers, however, despite interviewing Myrtle, never came back to her. In the meantime, the “maid service company” has re-opened - and is operating without a license.

Several other companies have also come to the Union’s attention – many of whom pay below the minimum wage having lured refugees and women from rural areas with promises of a “better life”.

As I understand it the problem lies with the Department of Labour, which although it requires these “maid services” operations to be registered and to maintain a list of employees, evidently requires them to do little else and certainly appears not to regulate this “industry” in any way. This means that many of these “companies” fly under the radar and get away with treating their staff abysmally. However, this is not just a South African problem, it’s rife across the world, as a google search will show you. While the Union does what it can it is totally under-resourced and also hamstrung by the fact that many of the workers will not come forward to complain or give evidence against employers.

This is tragically understandable. The labour market is huge, made up of millions of local people and millions of refugees. The market it serves, on the other hand, is very small. Thus most people put up and shut up because a couple of dollars a day is worth more than no income at all. The grim truth is that the weak and oppressed are always exploited. But at least there are organizations and people out there trying to do something about it.

Myrtle Witbooi told me that she had a meeting lined up with the Minister of Labour to discuss these very issues and I referred her to my blog post with its list of concerns about Pecksniff – having given her Pecksniff’s real name and details. I have, however, heard nothing further from her – and don’t expect to.

In wanting to help in some way, many of you were kind enough to write to the International Labour Organisation – and you will no doubt have had a similar letter to the one I received saying there was nothing they could do to help and suggesting that I contact the local union representative – despite my having told them I’d already done that. I do sometimes wonder if people actually read the full content of their emails…

I also contacted the Black Sash, a local NGO (non profit/non govermental organization) that deals with social, labour and human rights issues. They have remained blissfully silent. Admittedly, this sort of thing may not be their jurisdiction, but you’d think that given an old school pal is one of the directors she may have pointed me in the right direction…

And herein lies the rub: I learned long ago that if you want to get something done, don’t rely on authority figures and institutions. There is too much politics and too much bureaucracy – and more than a small bit of self interest. It is far more effective to make whatever difference you can, by yourself. You don’t change the world in a grand brushstroke – you change the world by being the best you can in your own small corner. As Ghandi said, “you must be the change you want to see in the world”.

So, whilst nothing has happened at the grand brushstroke level things have been happening in my own backyard.

In a rather ironic twist, Pecksniff, despite having fired D and I as clients, has allowed Angela to continue working here – which has made it easier for us to help her. For one thing, working directly for us her salary (for one day of the week) has increased substantially – to the extent that she is now able to send sufficient money to Zimbabwe to get her daughter a private tutor (given that the education system in Zim has crumbled entirely). Secondly, once her maternity leave is over, Angela will not be going back to work for Pecksniff.

I have a friend, T, who is in the throes of starting a small NGO, called Dreamworker (“working for the unemployed”), which assists job seekers in finding employment. On Wednesday, having written a letter of recommendation for her, I will be taking Angela for an interview with T. In the meantime, I’m teaching Angela the meaning of empowerment and self worth – helping her to understand the value of what she does and that she deserves to be treated well - but that unless she stands up for herself, people will take advantage of her wherever they can. T, in turn, will explain to Angela her rights in terms of the Labour Relations Act. T will then line up a series of interviews for Angela and Angela will be able to choose who she works for. And if the first new job doesn’t work out, T will find her another job. If Angela has a good experience with Dreamworker, she will be able to refer her friends there. Hopefully, Angela’s own experiences will be a light for others.

We start with one, in our own backyard…

It’s ironic that Dreamworker does something not dissimilar from Pecksniff, only it doesn’t charge for its services– it’s all done because T wants to make a difference and to make the world a better place by helping people empower themselves. She started in her own neighbourhood and now she’s spreading her angel’s wings over more of Cape Town.

In due course, I hope to write an article for the local media with T on the “life stories” of those she’s helped. I hope Angela’s story will be one of those.


ADDENDUM: It may interest you to know that last month Pecksniff paid Angela and other employees less than half a month's salary. When Angela protested, she was given another few hundred rand but still didn't receive her full salary. When she protested again, Pecksniff arranged to pay her full salary, but insisted that Angela didn't tell other employees... It has struck both Angela and me that Pecksniff's operation may well be on the skids. Staff, sick and tired of the way they are treated, are leaving, and even customers, who are coming to learn more about Pecksniff and how she does business, are walking away. Unfortunately, Pecksniff is but one of many.

An awful lot of stuff in one post

See, this is what happens when I get tardy - I end up having to post a mountain of stuff in one go.

So... today we are doing: awards, a meme/wordgame-thingy and what you could do to help Angela.

Let's start with Angela's problem with the exploitative job situation. I am already on the trail of several courses of action, which I'll tell you about another time. But for those who have expressed a wish to help in some way, the best thing you could possibly do for now is to write to the International Labour Organization.

You might say something like this: "I am aware that while much has been done to uplift the lot of workers in South Africa, one group remains underrepresented and prejudiced - and that is domestic workers. It has come to my attention that there are several companies in South Africa which openly exploit domestic workers by using their labour to provide char or "maid services". In doing so many of them pay below the minimum wage and none pay a decent living wage. Some delay payments to their staff, others make unwarranted salary deductions. A few cause workers to live in appalling conditions. Most threaten their staff. This untenable situation will regrettably continue until such time as the South African Department of Labour changes the policies which regulate the so-called "labour broker" services offered by these domestic services agencies. At present these agencies are only required to procure a license and provide a list of the employees in their service. This lack of regulation means that domestic workers, many of them refugees or people from rural areas who are in desperate need of employment, are preyed upon while the owners and managers of the agencies ride roughshod over the South African Labour Relations Act. I would appreciate it if you would be kind enough to investigate this matter and bring pressure to bear upon the South African Department of Labour so that situation might be changed for the benefit of all domestic and allied workers."

You can send your email to: ilo@ilo.org

If you do choose to take this action, let me know so that I can in turn advise the trade union which whom I've been in contact. You will find my email address on my profile page, or let me know in the comments.

And moving on.

It's been a bit like the Oscars around here recently and I've been blessed with two awards.

From the wonderfully creative Tessa at An Aerial Armadillo and also from word weaver extraordinaire Val at Monkeys on the Roof comes the Lus en el alma Premio award (Light in the Soul). Thank you so much, Tessa and Val! The award goes to all those who have light in their souls. That's a tough call because of course all of you have light in your souls. If you didn't, you'd be dead! The soul after all, is pure light. (Well that's my take and I'm sticking to it.) Now I know many of you have already received this award and so I need to find some new people on whom to bestow this - if somehow you're not on the list below and have not yet received this award - please consider it yours! (The one thing I truly hate about these awards is having to single out people - it strikes me as being totally unreasonable!)

Light in the Soul

Debi Alper
Janey at Wittering On
Saaleha at Afrocentric Muslimah
Storm at A Beautiful Girl Inside
Canterbury Soul
Vesper at Chick with a Quill
Aerin at In Search of Giants
Lettuce at Lettuce-Eating
Princess Haiku
Wanderlust Scarlett
Gaye at Gaudiumdegaea
Bart at Daze of our Lives
Lane at Lane's Write
Renee at Graulhet Bonjour
Baino at Baino's Banter
Gail at Gail at the Farm
Rambler at Virtual Ramblings
Steph at The Biopsy Report

The second award comes from Mouse over at Mouse Medicine and is for Superior Scribblers. You notice that I seem to be paying no attention to how many people these awards should go to... Ja, well, no fine, as we say here... As if I ever gave a fig about rules. Again, I know many of you have already received this award and if you're getting it twice I think you can safely assume that you're a superior Superior Scribbler!


Tessa at An Aerial Armadillo
Val at Monkeys on the Roof
Karen at Border Town Notes
Angela at Letters from Usedom
Lori at Lori Times Five
Sue Guiney
FireByrd at Bird on Fire
Red at Red Dirt Mule
Vesper at Chick with a Quill
Oh and everyone else!

And finally, a meme-word-game thingy from Val. Pant, whew, puff, gasp. I need a cuppa tea, I don't know about you. Yeah, well, we'll just call this a marathon blog post, shall we - teach me to get all slack. Though frankly, I don't know what any of you did to deserve this monster post...

I have to choose ten words beginning with L that are important to me. Val had the letter R, Firebyrd from whom she took over the game had the letter B. If you want to play, let me know in the comments and I will assign you a letter. Okay, last leg of blog post. Wheeze, gasp, puff, pant... And in no particular order...

LOVE - without it we are nothing, it is the very energy from which we spring, in which we exist and to which we return. Let me share something: "Love is all that exists. Love is the universal communication. It is the energy that has created the universe and is keeping it going." (from Emmanuel's Book compiled by Pat Rodegast).

LAUGHTER - it makes the world go round. Laugh and the world laughs with you. I love larfing, laffin', laughing and I love to make others laugh. It is a wonderfully healing tonic and they say that a laugh a day may keep a heart attack at bay. Right, all together now - LAUGH - ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaa!

LIGHT - it brightens our world. Like love, light is part of the essence of who we are, that from which we spring and to which we return. Moreover, light creates rainbows - and can you think of anything as beautiful as a rainbow? Lenses, lasers, mirrors, colour, reflections and solar power are all dependent on light. Without light we would not exist.

LENSES - this is the photographer speaking... I am completely potty about my big 300mm lens. It allows me to take really close up shots without necessarily getting trampled by an elephant or bitten by a puffadder. Lenses enable me to take the kind of photos I want to create and from behind the lens of a camera I am able to see an entirely different world - a world in which the beauty of this thing we call life, is brought into sharp and focused magnificence.

LETTUCE - okay, so this may sound a little odd but I love lettuce and I particularly love lettuce sprinkled with a little sea salt and dribbled with walnut oil. Yummeeeeeee! Moreover, lettuce contains lactucarium, a chemical which aids sleep. Who needs sleeping pills when there's lettuce!

LITERATURE - where would we be without it. It reflects the world we live in, it shapes our thinking. I love reading and I love writing. I tend not, despite a degree in English literature, to think of it as "literature" but as stories. And as Terry Pratchett puts it so beautifully in Witches Abroad - "People think that stories are shaped by people. In fact, it's the other way around."

LULLABIES - they are so magnificently soothing. As a child I used to love the pink poodle music box which lay on my grandmother's bed and when wound up, played Brahms' lullaby. Even today, when I'm feeling really stressed and can't sleep, I hum this little tune to myself.

LILLIES - I love lillies, there is something so evocative and mysterious about them. They can be pure simplicity, they can be magnificent, flamboyant beauty. My favourite flowers are St Joseph's and Stargazer Lillies.

LEOPARDS - when I went to the Kruger National Park last year, all I wanted to see was a spotty lying in a tree - I think they are the most beautiful creatures. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. I've had two close encounters with leopards out in the bush - in one instance I had one sitting politely behind me in a bush while I lounged on a river bank - I say politely because it wanted to get to the water and I was in its way but it just waited until my husband, who'd spotted it, came and rushed me away, saying, "Just don't look back!" In the other instance, I startled a spotty who growled most ferociously and sent me hurtling down the hill into a field of wild pigs!

LAZING - I'm all for lazing, especially on a tropical beach while hot and cold running waiters bring me iced mango juice. In fact, talking of lazing, after this very lengthy post, I think I'm going to do some of that!

And I'm very sorry but I have to add one more... LINDT - dark chocolate - mostly because I have just discovered "A touch of sea salt". Finally, I have met the chocolate of my dreams, the chocolate I want to marry. Thank you, LINDT!

Human Exploitation - Angela's Story Continues

Apologies for my absence – I’ve been foiled by a lack of internet access, here’s hoping things are back to normal now.

Some of you, who’ve been blogging with me for a while will remember Angela, the young Zimbabwean asylum seeker, who chars for me once a week. For those who don’t know, Angela and her husband came to South Africa about two years ago, after the market she worked in was blitzed by Mugabe’s henchmen and all people who were not Mugabe supporters were threatened with their lives. Angela and her husband are amongst millions of others who have, over the past few years, fled to South Africa. Most of her family are still in Zimbabwe, including her young daughter whom she has not seen since she left home. Angela is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, gentle, caring and with a delightful sense of humour. During the violent xenophobia in May last year when South Africans turned on foreigners, we took Angela and her husband in for over a month until it was safe for them to return to the township where they rent a room from a local woman. But as Angela would tell you, the xenophobia hasn’t gone away, it’s just not as obvious as it was. Every day of her life is lived in some degree of fear and always with a more than reasonable degree of uncertainty.

Enter the next element of Angela’s story and the subject of this post, and I would ask you to bear with me but this is something which must be told.

Angela is employed by a domestic agency which is run by a woman whom I’ll call Pecksniff - after a character in Charles Dickens’ Martin Chuzzlewit.

Pecksniff insists she runs a kind and caring operation in which all her employees are well looked after. In a recent letter sent to all clients, justifying a price increase, she stated:

“And our wages will be increasing again – as they need to do, to make sure that our staff can make ends meet… remember that all our char team ladies are employed on a full time basis – earning decent salaries, transport money, UIF etc. We pride ourselves on making sure that everything is done correctly. So yes, there may be other “agencies” out there who charge less – but do they train, treat and pay their staff properly? We do.”

However, in the two years that I’ve used Pecksniff’s services, I’ve had several charwomen tell me that she’s not very nice to work for. It has also been apparent that they get no training. These women seem to only continue in Pecksniff's employment because their circumstances are dire. And now that Angela has worked here for over a year, I’ve been able to glean a greater insight into the modus operandi of Mistress Pecksniff.

For a start, when we took in Angela and her husband during the xenophobic violence, Pecksniff was livid. She informed Angela that she couldn’t stay with us. I phoned her and explained that Angela’s life was in danger and as a basic act of humanity the least I could do was offer her sanctuary. I said to Pecksniff that I hoped if I ever found myself in Angela’s situation that Pecksniff might be willing to offer me refuge… She said she took my point but she still didn’t like it as it undermined her position as employer.

Six months ago, Angela fell pregnant. I asked if she would be paid maternity benefit. She said Pecksniff had said no. I asked if Pecksniff was contributing to UIF (unemployment insurance fund) on Angela’s behalf (legally all employers and employees earning below a certain amount must contribute to UIF). Angela wasn’t sure. If Pecksniff and Angela contribute to UIF then she is able to register for a maternity benefit from the state. Do bear in mind Pecksniff’s words in her letter pertaining to price increases.

In the last few weeks things have unraveled fast and Angela has been increasingly unhappy.

• It turns out that Pecksniff threatens her staff with firing – this is illegal under the South African Labour Relations Act – both the threats and firing staff without due - and lengthy - process. (South African workers are particularly well protected under the Act.)

• Pecksniff appears to pay some women more than others and for no apparent reason.

• A month ago, violent taxi strikes prevented people, including Angela, from getting to work.

• A week later, Angela was asked to work on a Saturday (overtime) and was then told she wasn’t being paid as her money (time and a half) was being deducted for the day (normal working day) she didn’t come to work because of the taxi strike.

• Last Wednesday, without following due procedure, Pecksniff deducted money from Angela’s paltry wages because the trains weren’t on time and Angela arrived at the office ten minutes late. (Bear in mind that South African rail transport doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to Swissrail…)

• It transpired that not only were wages deducted (illegal) but Angela was also given a “written warning” but without Pecksniff following due legal process which meant Angela was given no opportunity to represent or defend herself or apply for paralegal assistance.

• On top of all that I’ve discovered that of the daily rate that I am charged by Pecksniff, Angela earns approximately 32% of that – an amount which is equivalent to the basic minimum wage, irrespective of the number of hours or days she works (so much for “decent wages”). Where I pay a daily rate and the number of days varies from month to month, Angela is paid a flat monthly rate of R1500. That’s approximately £107 or $144 per month. Now, please go and read Pecksniff’s words again pertaining to price hikes.

• Moreover, I found that Pecksniff was not contributing to UIF for Angela – though she had done so in one month and had not refunded the monies to Angela.

• It seems Angela only sometimes receives salary statements. Legally she should receive them monthly.

• As regards the UIF, with no contributions to UIF, Angela will be unable to claim maternity benefit. But…

• she said that Pecksniff was now thinking of paying her a maternity benefit, BUT she’d give Angela the money when Angela returned to work after maternity leave. In other words, for three months Angela will have no income. It also means that if she wants the money, she will have to return to work for Pecksniff - something she really doesn’t want to do.

• And finally, Pecksniff apparently told Angela she had to take her annual leave along with her maternity leave.

To date we’ve felt unable to do anything, because without seeing Angela’s contract with Pecksniff we aren’t in possession of the facts. And the problem is Angela doesn’t have a copy of her contract and is too afraid to ask Pecksniff for a copy, fearing that she will be fired (which is illegal).

It all got a bit much and D decided to phone Pecksniff. It was better he did it since I would have been like an overheated bull in a china shop. He was polite and deferential and asked to understand what it was that Angela had been told to sign with regard to wages being deducted for arriving at work late (courtesy of SA Rail). He asked why she was given a written warning and if due process had been followed (it hadn’t). Pecksniff went off the deep end, screaming that she was unwilling to have the conversation. D persisted calmly. Pecksniff insisted she was not obliged to contribute to UIF for foreign nationals (so why did her letter justifying price hikes say that she does?). D asked if Pecksniff would be paying Angela a maternity benefit. Pecksniff said she was “thinking about it”. D thanked her for her time and her assistance and that was that.

We told Angela if Pecksniff tried to make her life difficult as a result of our call, then she should let us know. We know from past experience that Pecksniff gives staff who speak to clients about their concerns a very hard time. But this time Pecksniff took a different approach. I had mail from Pecksniff the following morning along with her bill, saying in view of her conversation with D she could no longer offer us a domestic service.

Now, you have to wonder… is that the action of a woman with nothing to hide? Is that the action of a concerned employer responding to a concerned client? In taking this action it strikes me that Pecksniff reveals her guilt. She also believes, no doubt, that she has “got rid” of us and that in doing so, she has removed Angela’s champions.

Well, as it is always said: there is more than one way to skin a cat… This, ladies and gentlemen, is not the end of it. Suffice it to say Angela has not lost her champions. She has suffered and endured enough hardship - and enough is enough.


ADDENDUM 03 Feb 2009: I found this article, which proves that Pecksniff's operation is not an isolated case and that in fact many of the other domestic service agencies apply far worse policies and practices than Pecksniff's. It is interesting to note too that the South African Domestic Services and Workers' Union is well aware of the problem. Unfortunately the problem appears to be compounded by workers being too afraid to stand up for their rights - much in the same way that Angela is.

The week that is

We’ve had a couple of worrying days – Ms Bo has been looking very peaky. I’m putting it down to too many bugs – the trouble is she has an insatiable appetite for bugs and grubs and if it doesn’t move, she’s not terribly interested in eating it. Yesterday we put her on a largely bug free diet (she got a few plump wood lice and that was it – aside from the usual grain and seed). Interestingly, this morning she is looking better but I’m still not convinced she’s “over” whatever has been ailing her – and frankly, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Fly, if you’re reading this, help, please! (Fly is the very nice fellow from the International Guinea Fowl Association.) D is convinced it’s either a “childhood illness” or a growth spurt. But who’s to know, certainly not us, complete novices in the this guinea rearing business. Frankly, I don’t think it helps that the wind is howling – and Bo doesn’t like the wind – I think it brings back bad memories from the night her whole flock were wiped out.

On which note, the fire is still raging on the other side of the bay – fanned by the strong winds. It’s partially under control but hectares of indigenous bush of have been destroyed and several homes have been razed.




For those of you who have been reading this blog for a while, you may remember my posts about Angela, the Zimbabwean lady who works for me once a week. As you may know, cholera has broken out in Zimbabwe (and is spilling over into surrounding countries, including South Africa). It’s purported that the reported figures of illness and death are being grossly underplayed by the Zim government. The latest news report references 756 deaths and more than 15 000 infections. A Zimbabwean aid agency said on the news this morning that the infrastructure in Zim is no longer on its knees but is lying flat on its face. Hospitals are standing empty, doctors and nurses aren’t working because they’re not being paid (neither are teachers). Last week the soldiers ran riot when they couldn’t draw their salaries – though the generals are, of course, still living it up. I’ve been concerned for Angela because most of her family is still in Zim. I asked her this morning when she came to work how things are going. She says her sister in Harare has been complaining of stomach pains for the past week and yesterday was much worse. The doubly worrying thing for Angela is that her young daughter lives with her sister. Her brother who is out in the rural areas says the water coming out of the taps is green – they are reduced to drawing water from a borehole – though who’s to know whether that is contaminated or not. The situation is beyond ridiculous and absurdly, instead of calling for Mugabe’s resignation, South Africa and neighbouring countries are still looking to broker a power sharing deal – which will still leave Mugabe in charge. It’s nothing short of rank insanity. You can read more about it here.

I think one of the worrying things that stems from this outbreak of cholera is the potential for a resurgence of the xenophobia we saw in South Africa in May this year. Then, local people went on the rampage against “foreigners” who were accused of stealing “jobs”. Now there is a grave danger that locals may once more go against “foreigners” for bringing disease into the country. Angela said that she couldn’t get to work yesterday because there was so much violence in the area where she lives. Once again she is afraid that she and her husband will be targeted because they are Zimbabwean. I think the thing one needs to bear in mind in this situation is that the xenophobia hasn’t “gone”. It has just been brought into check from the madness that flared up in May. The reality is that it is still there, simmering and playing itself out in backstreets where no one really bothers about it. The reality of being a “foreigner” in South Africa from somewhere else in Africa is a harsh one indeed.

If there was ever a time for world pressure to be brought on Zimbabwe’s government, now’s that time – in fact, it’s long, long overdue. Mugabe needs to go, Zimbabwe needs to be restored to the vision all its people once held for it, it needs to become the green and pleasant land that it once was, that it has the potential to be again. One wonders how much more suffering ordinary Zimbabweans will have to endure before the world actually steps in and says “enough!”. One wonders if ordinary Zimbabweans can indeed endure any more.

Calling the Angels

Spare a prayer...

It is, quite frankly, too hard for me to write today what I was planning on writing about. I have had a weekend bombarded with the reality of violent xenophobia and there is just so much I can take. Our media are full of it, and, given that I've provided Angela and her husband with refuge, my life is now full of it too. The ignorant barbarism of it all is almost beyond me and I find it tearing at my energy.

If you are interested, and want to know me, let me know in the comments and I'll post about it later in the week. For now though, I'd rather share with you some fun, lighthearted images snapped a week ago in Franschhoek - a village about an hour from Cape Town, famed for its wonderful restaurants, fine vineyards, quirky shops and wonderful scenery.

Across the tracks and golden vineyards...

These whimsical beauties come from Pret a Pot... - a wonderful spot tucked away at a railway siding.

Russet bird - not rusted bird

Within your heart...

Mermaids ponder and plan...

Garden warrior...

We need the angels right now...

Drakenstein Autumn

Hello Xenophobia, my old friend, you raise your ugly head again...

I was pondering what to write about today when Angela arrived.
“Did you see the news last night?” she asked me.
I hadn’t.
“They’re killing Zimbabweans and Malawians – beating them – three people have died.”
“Who?” I asked, “who’s killing them – where?”
“Zulus – in Alexandra.”
Alexandra is a shanty town in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. An estimated 350 000 people live in “Alex”. They occupy 8500 formal houses, 34 000 shacks, 3 hostel complexes, 2 500 flats and numerous old factories and buildings. In the past few days xenophobic violence has flared across the community as local people have lashed out foreigners – Malawians, Zimbabweans, Congolese, Rwandans… Claiming the foreigners take their jobs and their homes. The foreigners, terrified for their lives, have fled to police stations where they are barely getting any food. Some, in fact, have had no food for a few days.
“They say that we must go back to Zimbabwe,” said Angela, “But we can’t, Mugabe is killing us there. Everyday he is killing people. I’m frightened. What if the Xhosas here start doing the same thing here in the Cape. Where will we go? We can’t go back. And if we stay here, South African black people will kill us. I’m worried.”
Worried is an understatement.
“What about Mozambique?” I asked.
“Yes, they are good people in Mozambique, but there are no jobs. You just sell things in the market. I don’t know what we will do.”
And so we face another grim reality of Angela’s daily existence. And that reality is xenophobia - rampant xenophobia which spills and spreads like an oil slick from the north to the south of South Africa. And the interesting thing is this: While, by and large, most white South Africans have accepted the nearly 5 million refugees from various parts of Africa, most black South Africans have not. They view these foreigners as troublemakers who “steal” their homes and their jobs. Ironically, the refugees have aided the South African economy hugely, doing whatever jobs come their way – while many locals would prefer to see largesse simply handed to them on a plate. So, yes, local people may be right in saying the foreigners are stealing their jobs – but only because they can – because many locals are simply not willing to work in the same way. It’s a tragic sort of irony.
“I pray every day to God,” said Angela, “I pray that he will make them not hate us and hurt us. I don’t understand it,” she said, “We are all Africans together.”
And therein lies the greatest irony. Not only are we all Africans together on this benighted continent, but we are all humans together, not just in Africa but in the whole world. And look at us, look at how we bicker and fight. I often wonder what an ET looking at this planet must think.
The simple reality is this, one man feels he is threatened and he attacks the man who lives next door. You see it the world over. You just have to look at the rise of nationalism across Europe. You hear the same arguments in the UK – “these foreigners are taking our jobs, we must have tougher immigration control”. And so it goes. It's a strange phenomenon for a global "village" isn't it, the villagers hating and fighting with one another.
But while most of us sit in our safe houses, with food on the tables, in Zimbabwe – and countless other places - people are starving and living in fear of their lives.
And as the global economic crisis plays itself out the people who are worst hit are the poorest. Local people are rising up at this moment against refugees because food prices have soared as a result of purported global food shortages – but you just have to look at the considerable food waste in the West to really question the reality of that position.
“I can’t go back to Zim,” Angela said as she pushed the iron back and forth over a shirt, “We will die. I know we will die. If Mugabe doesn’t kill us, we will starve to death. But I am frightened to stay here. I don’t know what we will do.”
And I have no answers. I don’t know what to say to her. All I can do is pass on the phenomenal goodwill that so many of you sent her via this blog last week. And when I do so, her eyes soften and she says, “Thank you, thank you, there are good people in the world.”

For more on the Alexandra violence and the plight of African foreigners in South Africa, you can take a look here here, here and here

Angela's Story

It is probably a place so far removed from your consciousness as to be but a distant memory in the foggy enormity of space. The name may be familiar but the place not. After all, those things and places by which we’re not directly affected are places and things for which we seldom spare much thought– unless the media constantly pummels us with them – and even then, they remain “somewhere out there”.

So if I say “Zimbabwe” to you, I wonder what you think. Some place in Africa? Another African country with a despotic dictator as its leader? A country with ravaging inflation of over 260 000%? A place where unemployment, violence and intimidation are a daily part of life? A place where food and other shortages are commonplace? Maybe, if you follow the news, you’re even aware that Zimbabwe had elections several weeks ago where the leading party was finally overthrown by the opposition, but have refused to go quietly.

Zimbabwe lies on South Africa’s northern border. I’ve never been there but I’m told it is a beautiful place. Its people are warm and friendly, hard-working, optimistic and outgoing. The standard of education is high. The land is richly fertile. It is a country that has always sat quietly in my consciousness. I’ve had friends and colleagues from Zimbabwe. I studied with Zimbabweans – back then most had left the country not confident of its future. How right they were.

Today Zimbabwe is in turmoil, in agonizing death throes as its economy collapses and its people suffer unspeakable horrors. Amnesty International said in a recent report that on the genocide scale, Zimbabwe sits at Level 7. Level 8 is the point after it has all happened. Yet does the world realise or recognize this?

For me, the Zimbabwean crisis has suddenly come so much closer to home. It has done so because I met Angela.

Angela works for me. She’s a refugee from Zimbabwe who is sent once a week by a domestic agency to clean and iron. Angela’s roots, her very being, are tied to Zimbabwe, and all she wants to do is go home. But it’s not safe.

Angela used to make clothes and sell them in a market – until Robert Mugabe had the market burnt down because the people who worked there did not support him or his ruling party. Those who oppose Mugabe have much to fear, and so, Angela and her husband, like two million others, left Zimbabwe and came to South Africa to seek work and safety. She doesn’t like it here because many South Africans, predominantly Xhosa people, don’t like foreigners. They view them as a threat; see them as taking their jobs. And this is partially true; Zimbabweans (and Malawians, Congolese, Rwandans etc) like to work and they work hard and well because they want to improve their lives. But while Angela lives here, her little daughter is still in Zimbabwe, with her Angela’s mother. Or so we hope.

You see, last week Angela came to work and told me that she was desperately worried. Her daughter had not appeared at school the previous day. Her mother’s phone had gone unanswered for days.

“They live,” she told me, her eyes dark with fear and sorrow, “in a rural area. That’s where Mugabe is killing anyone who opposes him. It’s okay in the cities and towns, but in the rural areas, he kills.”

This may sound overly dramatic but let me give you yesterday’s excerpt from a South African newspaper, the Mail & Guardian:

Thousands of people have been beaten, thousands more driven from their homes and about 20 murdered, according to the opposition, in an army-led campaign of violence focused on rural areas where the opposition performed well.

And all this because Mugabe lost the elections held nearly six weeks ago – and Mugabe and his generals refuse to accept this loss. They have, after all, been in power for 28 years. They have plundered Zimbabwe of its value (and sold out what is left to the Chinese). They have set themselves up in palatial homes, drive Hummers, Bentleys and Benz’s. Their wives shop in Paris. They’ve shipped considerable funds offshore. And all this while the economy has crumbled, people have died of AIDS and farmers have had their land taken from them in other campaigns of violence and terror. Eight out of every ten Zimbabweans is without work. For those who do work, they inevitably have to pay, yes, pay, for the privilege of having a job*. Almost every Zimbabwean, Shona and Ndebele alike, lives in uncertainty and fear, because like Slobodan Milosovich, Mugabe’s reign of terror affects all his people (given his efforts to make it a cultural conflict failed). And of course, in the way of all self-justifying dictators, Mugabe and his cronies insist that all these outcomes are a direct result of British colonialism and interference.

And this is the thing; despite it all, Zimbabweans live for the day when it will all be better - and Angela smiles. She doesn’t know if her child and her parents are dead or alive. But she lives in hope. She is beautiful, she is strong, she is extraordinarily courageous. And on top of all the uncertainty with which she lives, here in South Africa she has to face outrageous xenophobia and is taken complete advantage of by the company who employs her. That, however, is another story and right now I’m too angry to tell it.

There is plenty of information on Zimbabwe on the web and in recent press reports. Zimbabweans themselves, willing to take the risk, have their own websites describing the reality. My pal Baino also wrote an excellent post on the topic a week ago – I’d urge you to read it. The world is thankfully, and finally, outraged. But what, I wonder, will it do about Zimbabwe? What, I wonder, is to be done?

* In one instance a report told of a man who worked at a supermarket, whose wife had to go out and beg with the children, so she could give him the money to actually get to work because his meagre salary couldn’t afford it. But, he said, he’d sooner have a job than not, as one day when things came right, that job would be a wonderful asset to him.


Postscript: I'm happy to be able to tell you that Angela's daughter and parents are safe. They had gone to the nearest town for safety's sake but have now returned to their village. We can but hope that they will continue to be safe. I think one of the hardest things for Angela is that she's not seen her daughter for nearly two years.