Selfish, Yes.

As I look out of this incredibly tiny window on this impressively cramped aeroplane (or is it airplane?), en route to Lanserisa, I am overwhelmed by the sheer number of people on the ground in Cape Town. All those thousands upon thousands of roofs, of cars, buses and streets. Gaining height as quickly as one does in a plane provides a surreal perspective on how vast the human spread is.

And what did I glean from this feeling of being overwhelmed? If there are so many of us; then surely there is enough energy, brain power, goodwill – and all that fuzzy stuff – to make things better down there on the ground? Cliché? So fucking what?

Then I let my brain wonder, which is not difficult to allow. And you know what I thought? What if I could get each one of those people on the ground to want to read my blog, to see my show, to pay me R5 – I’d be rich. Precisely! I just answered my own question... people are too damn selfish to stay with the thought of another for more than three minutes! Our energy is all about ourselves, our brain wants to be an “I” specialist. And goodwill, well that would be good if I can score from it. So the fuzzy stuff seems to be a dream...

Icky, isn’t it?

But, why then do we every now and again have these realisations, these ‘fuzzy’ thoughts, even if only at random moments – like taking off in an aeroplane? We, as humans, do have moments when we aren’t selfish and we think, ‘Gee, what can I do to make this place better?’ I think that it is because we do, essentially, want to do good, to make things right. However, it isn’t easy to be selfless and as humans are essentially lazy, we quickly go back to thinking about ourselves, because it’s so easy. Maybe it is because, just like any really challenging thing, there is effort involved. We procrastinate, and what better way than to spend time satisfying your personal needs, after all, they’re obvious.

And here is the next cliché: we should make the effort! The world needs to be less lazy. We need to try have the realisations more often; and then realise the realisation. Do something! Actually act on the fuzzy stuff.

So, when I get off this plane I am going to...  I hope that there is a coffee shop close to the exit to the airport, I am dying for a latte.

Sigh.

67 Minutes, Hate Speech and Tik

I did my 67 minutes. I wore my purple top proudly and shook my jam can for change to support The Chaeli Campaign. I was under the impression though that this should have made me feel good, you know, fulfilled. My impression was somewhat misguided.

"Madiba day! Any loose change in support of the Chaeli Campaign - children and disability," was my chant.

After about three minutes of canvassing at a robot here in the Southern Suburbs of Cape Town, a bitter old man said through his twisted mouth, out of his cigarette reeking car, "Mandela should have got the death sentence!" Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is what he said. I was so shocked that I didn't have time to respond before he lurched off, in his Mercedes Benz, through the red robot.

I believe I am a relatively resilient, and sometimes quick witted, person, but I started trembling - visibly. I wasn't sure if I was angry or scared. I stepped off to the side of the road, regained my composure and tried to laugh it off. I kept thinking 'he probably isn't a very happy man.'

I waited two or three robot changes and got back in there.

No sooner had I stepped back into it, when a bakkie, with two suspicious characters nearly rode me over. The passenger, stuck his hand out of the car, and there, in broad daylight was a light bulb smouldering with poisonous and vile smoke in his gruby little paw. "Take a hit from the dark side my bru!"

This was just too much for me, and it hadn't even been 20 minutes. I still had 47 minutes to go!

I hugged my tin sheepishly and started walking towards the Pick n Pay, I was sure that I'd be met with a more appreciative audience there. It was better. I mean there wasn't any anti Madiba rants or drug using pushers, but my goodness there were a lot of very unhappy and seriously unfriendly people.

At the end of my 67 minutes I must say I felt a little disheartened and kind of angry that I had thought this would have been an inspiring thing to do.

Back at the office I took some time to think about it all over a really strong coffee.

I am glad I did it. It wasn't easy, but doing the 'right thing'; 'the good thing'; something for somebody else, isn't always easy. But we do still need to do it. Perhaps if more people actually did it, even though it is difficult, this place would be a better place to live.
 

Agaat

A quick reflection on the reading of Marlene van Niekerk’s Agaat

I have just finished, all six hundred and ninety two pages of it. Was it worth it? Yes, yes I think it was. I may need some more time to really answer this. You see, I think that it is one of those books that you need to spend a fair bit of time pondering, especially as a white South African living in the Cape.

The story is narrated by Milla, a white Afrikaaner, who is on her death bed dying of a motor neuron disease. She tells a difficult story of a life on a farm in the Western Cape during the ‘dark days’. There is an abusive husband, an adopted child, a biological child, and a whole lot of internal struggle. But what makes this book interesting is not all this drama. Agaat is an exceptionally unfiltered look at race, and this makes the book a book to spend some time making your way through and then thinking about.

Toni Morrison, possibly one of the most brilliant authors of all time (in my opinion anyway), said of Agaat: ‘I was immediately mesmerized... Its beauty matches its depth and her achievement is as brilliant as it is haunting.’

South Africa is complex, we know this, but sometimes I think that we forget just how haunting our history is. We underestimate the psychological impact of what life was, of what living had to be, not more than one generation back.

Agaat was a rather intense reminder for me of how much healing still needs to happen for South Africa.

Being Sad, No!

So, those of you who know me, are probably not surprised to hear that I was diagnosed with clinical depression earlier this year. Yes, I just said that out loud.

You see, it doesn't really bother me, I mean to tell people. 'Why?', I hear you ask. The answer is simple really, I now know that I am not crazy and that the weight of sadness can be lightened. And that this diagnosis means things can change.

I never really had an opinion on depression as a mental illness, but now that I am going through therapy, taking the right medication, making the changes, and feeling like I am alive and able to do things - I know that it (depression) is fucking real and horribly debilitating.

People would, or should, probably think that I shouldn't have been a candidate for 'depro'. I mean; I have a great and deeply caring lover, a wonderful family and brilliant friends; I was studying and finances are not a huge problem. But, in the words of Jack White, I had 'the rich kid blues' in spite of all the good things in my life.

I was always dreaming, always setting goals and pushing forward, but it felt as if those dreams were useless, that the goals were unattainable and that someone or something was pushing backwards. I was sad, although I knew I should have been happy.

What convinced me to go and see someone about it after years of sadness, I don't really know. It might have been the sadness I was creating for my gorgeous wife, the inability to find a job, the excessive drinking or it might have been the awful and continuous thoughts of dying. Although, it probably was my mom's encouragement. Whatever it was, it was the best decision I have ever made.

I always thought that it was a cliche to wake up, see the sunlight in the trees and say 'damn that's gorgeous'. I don't care for being cliched anymore. The sunlight today is gorgeous.

I am so much better now, and the only real nightmare and fear I have is ever feeling that weight of sadness ever again! I am still at the beginning of my battle against this, but I know the enemy and that makes it so much easier.