The dimming festival of lights

This is my favourite time of the year. I remember when I was little; all the kids were so excited about buying fireworks so that they were adequately prepared to celebrate Diwali. We’d light a few fireworks like the little Tom Thumbs in the days leading up to Diwali but we’d make sure we saved some for the big day.

Diwali is popularly known as the festival of lights. It commemorates the return of Lord Rama from a 14 year exile where he killed a demon king. On that moonless night, the people of Ayodhya lit clay lamps throughout the city to help Lord Rama find his way home. There isn’t much evidence to state whether fireworks were burnt during this time but over the years the use of fireworks during Diwali has become synonymous with celebrating the triumph of good over evil. Today, Diwali is still celebrated with a beautiful array of clay lamps decorated in and around every Hindu home and a magical fireworks display lights up the sky at night.

Growing up in an Indian area, everyone loved fireworks whether they were Hindu or not. Even the Christian and Muslim kids would buy fireworks and their parents would let them indulge in the neighbourhood’s Diwali festivities.

On Diwali everyone had their turn to light up the night whether they lit fireworks outside their own houses or with neighbours. If you didn’t have money to buy your own fireworks, your neighbours would welcome you into their celebrations. For the years when I was unable to celebrate, taking in the sights and sounds of the revelry while sitting at home was good enough for me.

There were hardly any dogs in my neighbourhood – just two; both braved the loud sounds and never seemed scared. Their owners were the loudest bunch too. I realise now that these two dogs were possibly the exception. Dogs can hear five times more acutely than humans and are thus more scared of the loud bangs. Some dog owners give their dogs calming drugs or sedatives and keep them in a safe, quiet and well lit room before going off to lighting their own fireworks.

In the days leading up to the Diwali, the SPCA has been campaigning to create awareness of the effects fireworks have on pets. The timing of one such poster was not well received by the president of the SA Hindu Maha Sabha. The poster contains a picture of a scared puppy and a tagline that says, “Your box of tricks…is our worst nightmare. Are fireworks necessary?” Many animals become scared of the sudden flashes of lights. Some fireworks, like the Indian King, serve no purpose other than to be ridiculously loud bangs. It’s deafening for most humans. The poor animals run away terrified of the noises and sometimes become disoriented or, even worse, end up lost or injured. Loud noises can also cause aggressive behaviour in animals. It is for these reason that I fully understand the SPCA’s concerns during this time of the year.

On the other hand, I also understand the SA Hindu Maha Sabha’s concerns around the SPCA poster. Being a minority, it’s easy to feel misunderstood. And when told that their age-old tradition of lighting fireworks can only occur in designated areas and not at home, it’s understandable that many feel like their religion is under attack. With much consideration for all parties affected, Diwali can still be celebrated for everyone to enjoy. All we need is some compromise and tolerance from everyone.

In Indian populated areas, like the one I grew up in, most residents are Hindu, don’t have pets and light their fireworks without complaints from their neighbours. It’s easy to enjoy Diwali when everyone around you is celebrating too.

There are Indian suburbs where most residents own pets. There are naturally fewer individuals who would want to light fireworks. For the minority who do want to celebrate with a bang, it seems only fair to limit their use of fireworks or to use them in designated areas in order to spare the animals from harm.

It’s important for Hindus to be considerate of their neighbours in suburbs where they are the minority It isn’t fair for one Hindu household to be loudly celebrating whilst disturbing the other households on their street. Loud fireworks don’t have their place there. To be considerate towards their neighbours, many Hindus living in the Northern suburbs of Johannesburg trek to Lenasia to celebrate Diwali.

Although, it is tradition to burn fireworks up to a week before Diwali, Hindus should really consider whether there is a need for it. There is an immense amount of harm that can be caused to animals by lighting up every day and it is selfish to expect pet owners to sedate their dogs for a week. Perhaps the use of the fireworks should be kept to the day of Diwali only as a further compromise.

Compromise is a two way street and it is not only Hindus that need to be considerate of their neighbours. The onus is on pet owners to ensure that their animals are kept safe during Diwali. If dog owners don’t consult with their neighbours before getting dogs whose loud barks disturb others, then it’s hardly considerate to expect your neighbours to keep their noise levels down for the sake of your dog.  As a pet owner, it is your responsibility to factor in all elements of the environment that may impact your pets. One of these factors may include a neighbourhood where loud fireworks are the norm on Diwali.

Whilst Hindus need to be considerate of their neighbours, they should not be accommodating religious and social intolerance. We live in a country with a multitude of diverse cultures with various celebratory events. As with all religions, Hindus have a right to celebrate their religious festivals. Diwali is celebrated on one night in South Africa. Embrace the celebrations and you can resume normality the next day.

We just need to be tolerant of each other. If you’re celebrating Diwali with fireworks, do it responsibly without harming animals. If you’re a pet owner, calm your pets down on the day. If we spare a thought on our effects on others, we’ll be able to celebrate Diwali much more smoothly.

I’m spending Diwali in Johannesburg this year. Since I won’t be able to celebrate at home, I will be going to a friend’s place where I’ll be sure to take along my colourful fireworks and not the loud ones.

In pursuit of fair

I am Indian – a dark skinned Indian. My mum and dad are both lighter skinned and most of my extended family is naturally fair given our North Indian heritage. I also grew up in a predominantly Indian suburb.  I can tell you firsthand how it feels to dislike the colour of your skin due to the Indian ingrained ideal that fair skin is equated to beauty.

Across many cultures, light skin especially on women has been favoured so this isn’t just an Indian phenomenon. During the Victorian era, European women protected their delicate complexions by covering up when going out in the sun as pale skin was a sign of a higher social standing in comparison to the working class whose skin became darker in the sun. They even used foundation-type products for their skin to have a milky white tone.

I suppose colonisation can easily be blamed for India’s infatuation with fair skin. During British rule, the various hues of genetically brown-skinned inhabitants were subordinates to the white race and treated as inferior. Over time, Indians came to accept that the fairer race was worthy of respect because that was just how it was. The colonialists also came to favour those Indians who looked most like them – the lighter skinned ones. Fair Indians were given better opportunities and favoured when less laborious tasks arose. The comparatively darker inhabitants, on the other hand, were still treated as inferior – inferior to the white race and further inferior within their own nationality. And thus began the association of fair skin with beauty, intelligence and success whilst dark skin was only seen with detest and ugliness. After 300 years of British rule, India celebrated her independence while Indians were still mentally enslaved from the by-products of colonialism.

It’s easy to point a finger at colonialism. Not many are aware of a story in Hindu Mythology where the Goddess Parvati prayed to the supreme diety, Brahma, asking for golden skin because she was ashamed of her dark skin. Her wish was granted and the God Shiva, who previously rejected her, realised how beautiful she had become and married her and they lived happily ever after. :-/ Even the Gods had a preference for light skin. No wonder people view their dark skin as a curse!

Lighter skinned girls are automatically seen as prettier despite their features. That certainly isn’t true but there is some truth that fair women are more noticed. Introduce a dark girl and a fair girl into a room at the same time and your eyes will probably be drawn towards the lighter skinned girl first. The lightness of her complexion makes her features more noticeable than that of a tanned girl. The dark girl is only glanced at a second later.

Gone are the days of the pale European look; white girls now prefer a bronzed complexion. It’s today’s look of high social standing that says, “I’m not part of the pale indoor working class.” White people don’t mind that pale skin gets you noticed first but they also appreciate the benefit that darker skin covers up many flaws so your features don’t stand out. It also doesn’t hurt that tanning helps reduce the visibility of cellulite.

Despite white girls sun-bedding for the sun-kissed look, they’ll never choose to go as dark as the Indian girls that are looked down upon for the colour of their skin. Dark girls are constantly reminded of the tragedy of their skin colour whether it’s over a silly discussion of how the lighter skinned girls complain about getting darker in the sun; or friends always talking about light skin as a preference in a mate; or laughing about an Indian so dark that his skin was almost black; or your parents encouraging you to stay of the sun to prevent further darkening. 

Product marketing tailgates on these insecurities that dark girls are brought up with to sell their make-up – they’re selling you a promise of beauty. The media never does anything to dispel the dark-is-ugly ideology and perpetuates the belief that white-is-right by constantly promoting the casting of fair actresses and models. Make-up and lighting is also used to make characters appear lighter than they are.

It comes as no surprise that skin lightening is a huge trend amongst the Indian population with South Africa producing her own poster child, Sorisha Naidoo. Starting out as a beauty queen, Sorisha worked her way into the limelight with her gorgeous albeit dark looks. Despite being crowned Miss India South Africa, she tells her own tale of her unhappiness with her skin tone which led to her lightening her skin to the extreme. In a world where light skinned is adored and dark skin is insulted, no one understands her “plight” as much as a dark skinned person would. Despite her success, it’s tough living in a world that excludes you. She’s now happy with what she sees in the mirror.

 

Sorisha has received a myriad of accusations from the Indian community. By perpetuating the notion that looking white is the prettiest look to aspire to, she really shouldn’t be a representative of the Indian race when her very actions indicate that she’s ashamed to look Indian. We’re quick to judge that she should have more self respect and accept herself as God made her. A rather condescending remark when most humans aren’t accepting of their natural self.

We’re never happy with what we’re born with. There are bigger breasts to be had, curly hair that needs taming, a change of hair colour to better suit our complexion, cosmetic contact lens and the list goes on. The point is very few people ever accept the looks they were born with so at which point do we excuse someone who enhances their features to look prettier; and when do we accuse them of being ashamed of their natural looks?

It all boils down to intent. I believe there’s nothing wrong with lightening your skin if you feel that you’ll look prettier – the same way that the world doesn’t have a problem when the pale citizens of the world tan themselves because they think they look better darker. The moment you choose to lighten your skin because of pressures of society, then that’s a clear indication that you’re ashamed of your heritage. Given our centuries of brainwashing how do we even tell which is which?  

The art of headbanging

I listen to many types of music – largely, the commercial stuff played on the radio. It’s not that the popular music is my favourite – it’s mostly because I’m too lazy to go out and seek the not so popular music and then find time to actually listen to it.

One of my favourite genres of music is alternative rock. I simply love the sound of intricate solo guitar pieces. With the volume pumped up, the beat of the drums in the aggressive songs resonates with my entire body. And who won’t sing along to the lyrics of songs that seem to emulate your feelings.

I was, therefore, really excited to go to One Night in Cape Town, a concert featuring Kongos, Eagles of Death Metal, Enter Shikari, Seether and Bullet for my Valentine. Patrons to this concert were obviously fans of rock and metal and there was I, someone who dips her feet into this world now and then, ready to enjoy these bands with them. I soon realised I was doing this concert all wrong.   

It had never occurred to me before that I actually don’t know how to headbang. It’s always seemed like the only natural way to move your body to heavy rock is to move your head up and down to the beats. That’s kinda all I did besides watching in awe at how headbanging is really done.

I imagine the most popular way to head bang is to move your head up and down like I do, sort of like a repeated exaggerated nod. I feel it’s best done with your eyes closed since the fast moving images just makes your head hurt and you feel the music much more when you close your eyes anway.

For the long beats, most of my fellow golden circle compatriots seemed to prefer moving their upper bodies from the waist to about a 45 degree angle and back up, whilst also nodding their heads. I’m most afraid of this type of headbanging because of the amount of space required. I’m also scared that someone’s head is going to bang into mine when standing really close to other people at a concert. That being said, this style is actually safer on your spine than the up and down head movements that I prefer...where you don’t infringe on other people’s spaces.

There’s more than just nodding your head back and forth, there’s also the windmill where you can circle your head, whipping your head in a half circle, and shaking it from side to side. I suppose headbanging any which way you prefer is correct and developing whiplash means you’re doing it wrong.

The right hair is key to headbanging perfectly. The lead singer of Bullet for my Valentine had pin straight hair that fell back into place after any head movements. His hair was down to his shoulder blades so whenever he headbanged, his hair moved beautifully to the front of his guitar and back into place again. He had shiny blonde hair that caught the light with his movements which made watching him all the more entertaining.  

Hair length also determines the type of headbanging that’s most appropriate. The lead singer of Bullet for my Valentine spent most of his set banging his head up and down. The short haired bass guitarist, however, chose to whip his head in half circles as that made a better performance than flicking hair that he didn’t have. Really long hair, like my waist length hair, doesn’t really move much and doesn’t have the same impact when headbanging.

And then there’s the just-showing-off type of headbanging. When the entire band was on stage, Bullet for my Valentine generally started off their songs or the fast paced bits of the songs with in sync headbanging…while playing their musical instruments!

Wondering what to do with your hands while your head whips back and forth? Air guitar. Although I’m convinced that some of these air guitarists play real guitars cos they seemed to be strumming and picking and changing chords to the sound of the music. Maybe they fake it really well but I say attempt this at your own risk.

Hopefully my ‘research’ will help improve your headbanging skills. Maybe my next rock concert experience will shed light on the moshing etiquette…if I make it out of the pit alive.

Why I hate cops

I've always maintained that I hate cops. It's not because there's corruption in the police force.

It's because they generally do not have the physique to be able to run after robbers when you've just been mugged.

It's because their visible policing seems to be targeting ordinary citizens rather than hunting down rapists and murderers.

It's because when our police officers are patrolling, I feel fear that they will accuse me of some offence rather than make me feel safe.

The reason I hate cops the most today is because of this morning's incident when I was on my way from Sandton to Sunninghill at 4 in the morning. It's cold and dark and being a victim of crime myself, I tend to always err on the side of caution.

When I noticed the police car behind me, flashing their lights, indicating that I needed to stop, I decided that I was going to continue driving to my friend's complex and stop there when it was safe to do so, and then deal with what the cops wanted from me. Many media sources have previously mentioned that we are allowed to drive to a safe destination before stopping for police officers.

This just aggravated the police officers more and they started hooting for me to stop. I didn't know how else to indicate acknowledgement besides switching on my hazards and thereafter sticking my hand out of the window to indicate that I'm turning into the next road.

Eventually the cops just pulled in front of me forcing me to stop. An infuriated police officer got out of the car and grilled me. He yelled at me asking why I wouldn't stop.

I gave my reasons: I'm a girl driving alone in a city where crime is rife; and recently, two sisters were raped by police officers not far from where I was driving - in two separate incidents! I was going to stop when I felt it was safe to do so.

Instead of telling me why they stopped me, the cop continued to yell at me for five minutes telling me that if I am so scared, I should not be driving at night. Interestingly enough, they angrily told me that not stopping when a police officer requests it, is an admission of some guilt and they a liable to shoot at will if they deemed it appropriate! Eventually they drove off without even checking my licence.

And that right there is the reason I hate the police. Because I am more afraid for my safety when cops stop me than I am of being date raped. Because I cannot live my own life for fear of being stopped by cops. 

And so, whoever it is that makes our laws and enforces them, if girls driving alone at night can't continue driving to a safe place when we are asked to stop by the police, what are we supposed to do? Submit to being raped by them instead?

Bond of protection

Today marks a very joyful yet auspicious day in the Hindu calendar – Raksha Bandhan, a day that has been celebrated throughout history that still has a magical spirit about it.

Raksha Bandhan means “bond of protection” and celebrates the union between brother and sister. Religiously, the sister performs a ceremonial prayer to God for her brother’s well-being and protection from evil before tying the rakhi (a sacred thread) on his wrist. The rakhi symbolises her love and well wishes for her brother and his lifelong vow to protect her. The sister feeds him some sweets and her brother acknowledges her blessings with a gift and a promise to always take care of her.

I don’t have any brothers so when I when I was growing up, I tied rakhis for my cousins since Indian extended families are so close that cousins are viewed as siblings. My cousins also lived very far away from me so sometimes I’d tie a rakhi for a male friend that I was not related to but who I viewed as my brother. This day is jokingly referred to as the Friendzone Day because sometimes if a boy develops feelings for a girl and she does not reciprocate them, she may tie a rakhi for him today to say she thinks of him as her brother.

Raksha Bandhan is a tradition that surpasses the religious aspect of it. In majority Hindu communities, even non-Hindu girls perform the tradition of tying a rakhi for her “brother” to join in on the celebrations. Beneath the fun and the current trend, there is still the element of creating a peaceful community where everyone cares for each other.

This day brings siblings close together as brothers visit their sisters for their rakhis. Even when siblings are cities or countries apart, they still send a letter or have a telephone conversation and remind themselves that they can still count on each other. Although this is a Hindu tradition, it is worth pondering over no matter what your religious or cultural background is. We’re, often, too consumed with our own lives as we grow older that we forget the importance of family. On this auspicious day, I wish you an eternal bond of love, laughter and happiness between you and your siblings.

A new appreciation for the Big 5

Everyone knows I do not like the outdoors. That’s why even I was surprised at how excited I was during the game drive I went on this weekend. It really gave me a new appreciation of the Big 5.

We took our time and armed with a tracker, we were off to find the lions in their massive enclosure. The longer we spent finding the lions meant the less time we had to look at the other animals on the reserve. I suppose it’s worth looking for the lions as everyone wants to see the king of the jungle on a game. The ranger explained that the lions on the reserve are wild and not hand reared like the ones at the lion parks I’ve been to. The 4 lions have 1000 hectares of an enclosed area to run around, catch their own prey and laze about all day. I hate hearing about animals kept in captivity but this certainly doesn’t feel like captivity. The lions could be set out in the true wild and be able to fend for themselves.  

Eventually we spotted the lions about 20 metres away from us. The ranger took us closer to get a better view. I didn’t realise that “closer” meant a terrifying three metres away from the three lions basking in the sun. I have been in close proximity to lions in a lion park before but it always feels safer knowing that hand reared lions are comfortable with people around. These lions are truly wild and it was overwhelming to know that although they were lazing about, their senses are still so sharp that they could respond and attack us within seconds if we posed a danger to them. It was by far the best game drive I’ve been on knowing that the lions weren’t just kept in captivity being fed daily but they were in their natural habitat with their hunting skills still intact.

After leaving the lion enclosure, we drove through a herd of African Cape buffalo. Scary looking animals that are known to have killed more people in Africa than the rest of the Big 5 combined! A female buffalo came right up to game drive vehicle to sneak a cute peek at us whilst the baby buffalos just ran along with the herd. The male buffalos watched us intently and I was far too scared to even take a pic of them. The animals don’t just charge at humans for no apparent reason unless they pose a threat to the heard however as these buffalos age, their eyesight and hearing weakens so the old buffalos are extremely dangerous as they are easily scared and attack to protect themselves from danger. With an old buffalo in the herd and one of the male buffalos looking me in the eye, I felt scared even in the game drive vehicle.

My favourite part of the game drive was the drinks break where we could get out of the vehicle and stretch our legs...right alongside a herd of rhinoceros. The experience was truly marvellous and realising that I was standing next to critically endangered animals was overwhelming. They looked like a bunch of inquisitive animals, gossiping amongst each other about us before approaching us to see what was going on. They have excellent hearing but really bad eyesight which is why they curiously approach the sounds that they hear. They were such playful, innocent animals so harmless that we could walk amongst them. I didn’t really care much for rhino poaching but after seeing these social creatures, I can’t help but utterly detest the cruel crime of hunt an animal as easy to befriend as this one. Interestingly enough, rhino horns are made of keratin – the same substance as our fingernails. Keratin hasn’t been proven to have any medicinal qualities and still the rhino horn value is high enough to bribe veterinarians and experienced trackers to hunt these animals down.

The game drive didn’t cover the African elephants because the game lodge had a separate elephant experience but their watering hole was just metres away from the lodge we stayed in. It was wonderful to have lunch and spot two elephants walking along the boundary. The pool was at the boundary just over a high bank but that didn’t stop one of the elephants playfully stretching into the pool area and actually sucking in some chlorine water through its trunk for a drink. The elephant eventually found its own watering hole and stopped for a drink before moving along with his pal. Such massive creatures yet still so playful.  

The only Big 5 animal I was disappointed that I wasn't able to see was the leopard. Due to their nocturnal nature, leopards are very difficult to spot during the day. Although they rarely kill humans, I don’t think I’m brave enough to want to drive out in the middle of the night just to see a leopard in its natural habitat. 

This game drive gave me a new appreciation for the Big 5 – the five most difficult animals to hunt in Africa on foot. With other tourists on the game drive, I really feel lucky that these animals are practically on my doorstep for us to look at in awe. It’s also incredibly heartbreaking to know that these animals are endangered many of which are kept from extinction because they are kept in captivity by humans. I cannot imagine now why anyone would want to hunt these animals – be it for sport or for money. Perhaps game drives like this need to be more easily accessible for people to understand these animals so that we can give them a louder voice against atrocities like poaching of endangered animals.   

English is NOT my first language

I am a South African of Indian origin and I grew up speaking English. One would ordinarily classify my mother tongue as English and refer to me as English speaking – after all, it’s my first language; therefore I would know how to speak it best, right?

It’s a bit more complicated than that. See, Indians arrived in South Africa only about 150 years ago. The only languages they spoke were the Indian languages from back home – the various dialects can be broken down to at least five major languages. As if communicating with each other in at least five different Indian languages wasn’t difficult enough, they quickly learnt that to live amongst the natives, they needed to speak Zulu; and to work for their white bosses, they needed to communicate in English, and thereafter, Afrikaans. It’s no wonder that 150 years later, Indian languages have been almost completely wiped out in South Africa.

Further to the language barriers, in 13 of those decades, Indians were viewed by the South African government as unworthy of proper education. Indians were renowned for building their own schools and universities albeit without the quality of education afforded to their white counterparts. Regardless of whether schools were government run or created by Indians, education was unfortunately of a sub-standard nature.

I am a first generation first language English speaker. Looking back on how I grew up, it comes as no surprise that my neighbourhood’s grasp of the English language was atrocious. If my neighbour’s parents were like mine, they didn’t even speak English growing up, education wasn’t considered a necessity and the English everyone spoke was picked up in the area they lived in. The formative years of Indian children’s lives were spent learning grammatically incorrect English from their family and friends. While these children were growing up, they were somehow expected, by the more educated South Africans, to have unlearnt they way they spoke English throughout their schooling career. All the while, they came back home from a majority Indian school and hung out with the same family and friends with whom they spoke to (in the same broken English) their entire lives. In comparison, white children whose mother tongues were English didn’t have this problem. They were already at an advantage.

With the progression of Indians to middle class, a noticeable rift had been created – one of which is the judgement passed on the Indians that don’t speak “good” English. The argument is sound – the correct way to speak is taught at school – so says those whose parents instil the importance of education and already bring their children up speaking “good” English at home. 

Indian townships still exist, with Indian parents who aren’t educated enough to help their children with their homework. The education system easily passes children to the next grade without sparing a thought as to how their lack of knowledge may affect them post school, and it doesn’t help that there are schools whose mission it is to provide teachers with jobs rather than educate children. These Indian townships that still exist are also founded on generations of the incorrectly spoken English.

I understand the need to expect the world to speak correct English. After all, I’ve always considered myself a writer and to be credible, writers need to write in perfect English especially when it is the language that your readership largely understands. I was also brought up in an Indian township where education wasn’t revered and the English language seemed butchered. Yet, my mother kept me from kids who were rough, the television was my babysitter and I read everything I could get my hands on. Naturally, my English was “good” and (call me a snob but) I would mentally get annoyed over other’s incorrect pronunciation and grammar.

In the greater scheme of things though, does it really matter how “good” your English is? If people are comfortable with the way they speak, and we are able to comprehend when they do, as inaccurate as it may be, shouldn’t we rather just let them be? Perhaps instead of judging, we should take a moment to understand that not everyone in South Africa had equal opportunities. I’ve long since learnt this and instead of cringing whenever I hear someone from Phoenix speak, I smile because it’s these very language imperfections that make up the South African Indian culture I am so proud to be part of.

Dumping our babies

Sick to my stomach. That’s how I feel every time I hear about a baby dumped. That’s how I feel when I see the photos. So I wait for the news to be over or I scroll down the page so I don’t have to see the graphic images. Graphic images that say more than the 30 second news inserts. Each of those images tell a tale of a cruel society where our most vulnerable are thrown away like a half eaten sandwich or yesterday’s newspaper. Those images and the emotions conjured up make me sick and then moments later, my mind’s preoccupied with another task and I forget. I forget until I hear another story of a baby dumped and then I feel sick again.

Imagine a world where condoms and contraceptives are free and available at your nearest clinic. If that doesn’t stop an unwanted pregnancy, abortion is safe and legal. If you’re pro-life, there are adoption agencies that can take care of your child when you deliver. If you change your mind once you see a precious child that you created, there’s government grants than can help you support your baby. We are living in this world and still our news reports hundreds of babies dumped in trash cans every year in South Africa.

As much as baby dumping is becoming increasingly common, it isn’t a new phenomenon. Literature is filled with tales of child abandonment and as romanticised as the fairy tales are, I can’t help but wonder whether it is simply a case of art imitating life. One of my favourite plays tells a tragic story of Oedipus Rex. Before he was even given a name, his parents ordered a servant to kill the newborn. The servant couldn’t bear to kill a little baby and instead left the child to die on a mountain top. 400 years before Christ, an act of baby dumping introduced a trilogy to entertain an audience in Dionysia.  

The reason for Oedipus’ dumping was because of superstition. I’m not sure what the reasons are today but it must leave women in a dire position to leave their babies in a toilet – the babies they carried for nine months and laboured to deliver.

Maybe she’s still a child and isn’t emotionally mature to understand the consequences of getting rid of a baby. Maybe she’s emotionally scarred from rape. Maybe her sugar daddy that financially helped her impoverished family disappeared. Maybe she’s afraid of shaming her family by having a child out of wedlock. Maybe she doesn’t know how to raise a child without support from the baby’s father. Maybe she’s HIV positive and wants to spare her child a slow painful death. Maybe she isn’t aware of the options available for an unwanted pregnancy. Maybe she has post-partum depression. Maybe she’s experienced all of this – not uncommon in a HIV- and poverty-stricken country with a failing education system where rape of girls is rife.

Despite his doomed fate, Oedipus was lucky to be found just as some babies are rescued from being buried alive. Sadly, not all babies are this fortunate as their lives end before it can even start.

Unicef’s Declaration of the Rights of the Child says that children have the right to love and understanding, preferably from parents and family, but from the government where these cannot help. It’s easy to blame the family for taking away a child’s right. If a mother is guilty of baby dumping, she faces charges of murder with imprisonment. Brilliant solutions for isolated incidents but the growing number of cases brought to media attention implies a national crisis. How is the government not guilty of not protecting children where there is no one to take care of them? And what is their punishment? Do they even feel sick to their stomachs like I do?

Government has done amazingly well to put measures in place to prevent unwanted pregnancies and take care of unwanted babies. Their approach now is Ah well. We tried. That’s not a valid excuse. Churchill said that you measure the degree of civilisation of a society by how it treats its weakest members. With that sentiment then, we are not civilised. There is no sense in playing in a global world, attaining economic freedom or even hosting the Olympics when our weakest members are drowned.

Unfortunately there isn’t a quick fix. It’ll come with developing our nation. We need to bring our people out of poverty so that they have access to educate themselves about available options. Rapists need to be put behind bars. Girl children need to be empowered so that they aren’t overpowered by men. Boys need to be taught about the consequences of their actions. Our churches, temples and mosques need to stop ostracising out-of-wedlock pregnancies and start embracing these women and helping them.

And while these may take a generation or more to overcome, we need to get fulltime nurses and social workers into schools now. We can’t turn a blind eye at the teen pregnancies. They are happening – to girls as young as 10. We need someone to talk to the kids at school and to follow up with girls who haven’t been to school in a few weeks. The best way to educate a nation is to start with our children. They need to keep hearing about preventing pregnancies and they need to be aware of their options in the event of an unwanted pregnancy. This may increase abortion rates. More unwanted kids will be put into homes. And that is a more humane problem to deal with than the barbaric acts of throwing babies in the bushes.

Oedipus Rex grew up to be a king and once said that with clear sight, he was blinded by his inadvertent crimes. Only once he became blind was he able to see the truth. We have clear sight but are we seeing our inadvertent crimes?

#TBDZA

I found out about the Twitter Blanket Drive last year. #TBDZA was all over my Twitter timeline so I did my little bit for charity and bought a few blankets and dropped them off at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Rosebank.

I was amazed at how many blankets were donated from a simple request started by @melanieminaar on Twitter. One tweet requesting that the South African twitter community donate blankets to those in need resulted in 700 blankets in 2010 and an impressive 2 700 blankets in 2011.

The power of social networks seems to just grow stronger. This year, volunteers have already come forth with their ideas on how to increase blanket donations and create drop-off points in various suburbs around the country to make it even easier to donate. There’s even a drop-off point in Zim.

If you want to get involved, visit www.twitterblanketdrive.co.za for more information on the drop-off points close to you. Also don’t forget to attend one of the National Tweetups on 26 May 2012 to meet some tweeps and appreciate the sheer number of blankets collected.

As for my bit for charity, for every new follower on my blog, I will donate a blanket to #TBDZA. So look at the right of the screen, see that Followers block, click on Join this site. It’s currently sitting at 8 followers. By 26 May, I will make my blanket donation that is at least equal to number of additional followers my humble blog has gained.

Oh and while #TBDZA makes charity seem fun and exciting, let’s not forget that one-third of our population lives in poverty. While winter may bring thoughts of snuggling under a blanket sipping hot chocolate, for many it is a time where keeping warm comes with a very real risk of asphyxiation and shack-fire deaths from the use of gas heaters in poorly ventilated homes. Donate as many blankets as you want to. We may not be able to rescue everyone off the cold streets but keeping as many people as warm as possible will make a difference in their lives.

When it’s cold, I find myself praying for those that don’t have a warm bed. This winter, you may be able to give a child the gift of sweet dreams.

Always the girl friend, never the girlfriend

You know what’s the cool thing about women? Women get to have platonic friends. "He's my pal, he's my bud, he's my pla-ton-ic friend. I love him like a brother. He's my bud – my platonic friend."

Men don't have platonic friends okay. We just have women we haven't fucked yet. As soon as I figure this out, I'm in there!

I mean, we got some platonic friends, we all do. I got some platonic friends but they are all by accident. Every platonic friend I got is some women I was trying to fuck. I made a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in the friend zone. “Oh no! I'm in the friend zone!" – Chris Rock

The friend zone: a deathly pit of torture that every guy avoids and yet finds themselves stuck in at some time or the other. Guys lament all the time about chicks they are pursuing who think of them as nothing more than friends. They complain about it so much that the friend zone is considered this dungeon that all women create to keep the guy friends in that they don’t want to date. A male friend zone apparently doesn’t exist.

Guys supposedly never create a friend zone. So does this mean every girl who comes into their lives is eligible for their affections - be it romantic or physical? Therefore a girl can get any guy she wants as long as she has boobs – especially if the guy she’s interested in is a friend, right? My unsuccessful love life does not bear testament to this. I’ve been friend zoned many a time and so have a number of girls that I know. My theory is that girls just keep it on the down low. Also, it’s sexier when girls believe they can attract anyone they want so they don’t complain to keep up appearances.

Men are generally the pursuers. As such they are usually the ones who befriend a girl they are interested in. Deciding power is in the approached girl’s hand as she then choses whether she wants to date the dude or not. That’s why the friend zone is thought of a female creation – because men approach women who ultimately have the deciding power. But this isn’t how people necessarily meet.

Girls and guys meet all the time – through work, mutual friends, hobbies, etc. They may not necessarily meet in a bar where one is interested in the other. Feelings may develop over time and girls too become interested in guys who may not necessarily feel the same way. Here a guy could very well be the one with deciding power when a girl confesses her attraction to him. It is rather ridiculous to assume that he will automatically seize the opportunity of being her man purely because he doesn’t have a friend zone to put her in. He will think about it in a similar way that girls think about it their suitors. If he decides he isn’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with her, she too can be friend zoned.

So guys, stop complaining. You’re not the only ones serving time in the friend zone dungeon. Girls are in there too. We just don’t complain about it as much.

How to handle Valentine’s Day without a boyfriend

I dragged myself out of bed to do some much needed grocery shopping this morning. It was like any other day. I made myself look decent, jumped into my car for the 200 metre drive into the little mall down my road, parked and headed towards my usual grocery store. I walked into the store and amidst the business of Saturday shoppers, I stared straight ahead – my heart beating faster, palms becoming sweaty and panic settling in.

Before me stood a massive array of cards, roses and other little gifts in every shade of pink and red imaginable. Right there...in a GROCERY store...was a gigantic reminder, weeks in advance, of the day single women pray will never come around.

Saint Valentine’s Day – a day of love. The day that men are obligated to spoil their women to show their love and appreciation.  It’s all very romantic and no matter what girls have to say about the day, they’re genetically programmed to want to be treated like the princess they always dreamed of being.

My colleague seems to have the best husband in the world. Last year, every day of the week of Valentine’s Day, he sent her flowers, chocolates and a teddy bear to the office. She was the envy of the department as every girl wanted to be her.

As utterly romantic as it is to be the lucky recipient of showers of Valentine’s Day affection, the day becomes rather sad for single girls. The weeks before V-day, the store advertising, radio and TV commercials, funny emails, water cooler conversation and catching up with friends are all constant reminders of being single. And it’s not just about a single status, there’s a reflection of past Valentine’s Days being spent alone, currently not having someone special to spend the ‘love’ season with and the seemingly bleak future of felines for future V-day companionship.

I am not spending V-day wishing 21 December 2012 will come early so I’ve decided to put together a list of things that I think could keep the unloved feelings at bay whilst having the same amount of fun that I would have on any other day.

A singles evening

I tried to organise this last year. I asked a couple of single friends to get all dressed up and we can have dinner somewhere despite the fully booked restaurants with ridiculously priced menu offerings. Maybe this year, I’ll round up all the singletons I can find so there’ll be less of a chance that everyone will bail. *side eyes my friends that ditched me last year* And the singles event doesn’t have to be a stuffy fancy dinner, maybe an informal game of pool for everyone to socialise, have a chance to play and most importantly, to have fun!

Pamper yourself

Being by myself just makes me lonely and depressed but if you prefer alone time then this is the best time to treat yourself to a relaxing day at the spa. You’ll come out feeling like a Goddess which will lift up your spirits. There’s also nothing that retail therapy can’t fix – buy yourself that expensive gift you’ve been eyeing. You deserve to spoil yourself.

Girl’s night out

If you’re fortunate enough to have enough single girl friends that are keen to paint the town red, put on that sexy red dress and don your favourite pair of stilettos and head to the cocktail lounge of your choice. There’s still single guys out there and maybe being dressed to the nine’s might score you an unexpected free drink from another patron of the establishment. If all else fails, you would have had a fun night catching up with your girls.

Make someone else feel special

A friend in college once bought little ornament type gifts for all the single girls he knew. Yes it might still remind you that you don’t want to be single but it feels amazing to be handed a thoughtful unexpected gift. Maybe do the same for your single friends. Giving will make you feel good and receiving will make them feel great. Who said we can’t engineer Valentine’s Day to also be about appreciating our platonic friends?

A night in

Thankfully Valentine’s Day falls on a weekday this year so if you’re really busy at work, it’s only the evening that you need to plan for. Forget your usual evening responsibilities. Instead, pick up a movie on your way home, cook your favourite dish, have a long relaxing bubble bath with a glass of wine and watch your movie while eating your supper. End the evening off with a book in bed. You’ve just spent a commercialised day in, away from all the frenzy, making you your number one priority. Before you know it, your alarm clock will signal that it’s back to work and the end of V-day.

If you anticipate the dreaded feeling of misery on Valentine’s Day, there’s many ways to appreciate yourself, ignore the festivities or join in with some friends. What will you be up to on 14 February?

The dos and don’ts of last minute shopping

It wasn’t the best idea but I had to do some grocery shopping on Christmas Eve. Whilst I was there, I mentally put together this list of dos and don’ts to help you when shopping on one of the busiest days of the year.

Don’t do it: If it is at all possible, please avoid the Christmas rush by shopping way before festive season. Stay at home and spend time with your family. It is also a lot less stressful to shop in the New Year.

Do take a trolley from the parking lot: A rookie mistake that I made. Once you realise that there are no trolleys inside the store, you have to wait for trolleys to come through and there’s people of all sorts pushing through trying to grab a trolley as if it is rations of food being handed out during times of war.

Once you’ve gotten your trolley, everyone’s eager to squeeze through the generally tiny entrance of the grocery store. This is not Zimbabwe. The groceries are not going to run out. So don’t push your trolley into other people like you’re playing bumper cars or go-carting. I had the unfortunate incident of a woman pushing the trolley hard into me. I turned around and shot a look at the unapologetic woman. She did it again and once again I stopped to turn around. It’s not like you don’t know that you just bumped your trolley into someone’s ass...hard! I stopped and let her through and then as I was walking behind her, I gave her a taste of her own medicine. Harsh, I know, but how else will people know that it hurts and they shouldn’t do it to other people? She turned around and I gushed a seemingly sincere apology.

Do take someone with you when shopping. Not only will it help to keep you sane trying to manoeuvre through half of Durban packed into one store, it also helps with shopping strategies. I decided to let my mum do the shopping while I pushed the trolley behind her – often stopping in some quiet corner while she brought various items to me.

Please understand your, um, body size in comparison to others. With 68% of South Africans considered overweight, I don’t care whether it’s your ass, tummy or boobs that’s large, don’t push people out of the way with your weight!

Do try to be considerate of others when weaving through the un-orderly shopping nightmare. Pushing a trolley is pretty much like driving a car, at certain intersections, some motorists have right of way. If there’s a car in front of you, you wait for them to go through busy traffic because squeezing on the side of them while only do you car damage when you’re brushing the side of your against theirs. If you can’t fit through a gap, don’t do it. In fact, if you haven’t passed your driver’s licence test, perhaps you shouldn’t use a trolley when shopping. Hand baskets were meant for you.

The store is not filled with shoppers alone. Merchandisers work while the store is open, packing and neatening up the shelves so you can find what you need when you need it. That being said, when merchandisers are pushing through those bulk trolleys filled high with many heavy products, do let them through. It’s dangerous to be running around in front of them and also says that you’re a selfish person who thinks that the store is open solely for your shopping pleasure.

Do smile at others especially when saying “excuse me” or “sorry” or well just generally smiling. Frowns do not a Christmas spirit make.

When I finally got to the queue for the till, the queue was blocking the pathway of people needing to walk past. Do be courteous. I kept pushing my trolley out of the way for people to walk through and pushed it back in the queue once I could. Unlike the woman behind me, when I had progressed closer to the till, who just decided that she was in a queue and that was that. That then meant, nice old me had to move out of the way so that people to squeeze through to the other side.

Then there’s the dreaded encounter with the face of Checkers - the cashier. Customer service is clearly not taught at Checkers or if they did the cashier would smile, be friendly and maybe not stand with a bored expression on her face whilst not telling me why she’s just standing there waiting. Do complain about customer service. Perhaps the training manager, Jayindree Reddy, was not the best person to complain to (read: incompetent) and she didn’t do much when she came to the till to assist. It is because we have the culture of accepting bad service that it still goes on. There are a lot of unemployed South Africans who need a job and will be willing to take on the duties involved in a customer facing job for the salary on offer.

That, ladies and gentlemen, wraps up my experience. Hopefully this will help you when you find yourself needing to do some last minute shopping over really busy periods.