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“Save Water. Save the World” by Moestaqeem Esau

As the heavens open up on the still-drought stricken Western Cape, there is no better time to remind people to still save water. Don’t let your guard down just because the floodgates are open. That is when the enemy prospers.

Days-long rains remind me of my childhood. Twas a cold night a long time ago… No wait, wrong time.

At crèche we would stand at the door, rain pouring down, shouting, “Rain rain, go away. Come again another day”. Our rhyming skills were rudimentary at best and creativity as weak as water. I wish I could go back in time, go up to that little 6-year old me, stroke his pale face, look him in the eye and then punch him. Just once. Square in the gut. Serves him right for not appreciating rain.

Another classic tune went “It’s raining its pouring, the old man is snoring”. Cue a few decades later and I’m wondering, what’s the matter with this man and how on earth is he sleeping through this storm? Somebody wake him and tell him to help us get some buckets to catch the water. I would later sing this part from the Supertramp classic, “It’s Raining Again” and marvel at how I am now a super tramp. Thanks for the inspiration, ST!

Something else my ignorant self remembers from childhood is when it rained, we said it was because God gave Jesus a hiding and now he’s crying. Haha, so ignorant and irreverent. The 90s was a different time when father could beat son without interference from the law and labels like “corporal punishment”. We did not know any better. Sorry God.

Anyway, here’s a cheeky bit on saving water from my friend, Moestaqeem:

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The common saying “desperate times calls for desperate measures” has echoed throughout the ages. However, water, a precious resource and commodity has sustained life long before we could talk, write, flirt and blog.

People tend to often overlook the importance of water, thus encouraging the pollution and wasting thereof. Not too long from now, I dreamt of our planet, scarce of water and this is how it went… “Sun kissed skin so hot it’ll melt your Popsicle” [k Perry. California Girls]. Though seasonal rainfall occurred water remarkably evaporates before its hits the sizzling surface of the earth. Yes, twas that bad. There were  water burglars, water zombies and an establishment of a new elite force the H2O.B.I a branch of the FBI.

Locally, South Africa incorporated the death penalty to decrease the theft on water and water related murders. The scarcity of water motivated me to suggest possibilities in which we can save water during those desperate times. Hope you find this resourceful.

1)      The shower

People generally enjoy singing in the shower, like myself. It starts with one song and you end up singing five songs. Songs have length. Five songs could keep you for over 15 minutes in the shower!!! A shower running for 15 minutes? That’s a lot of WASTED water! Only one song should be sung. It should have a length of max 3 minutes. You should be done showering by the end of the song. Practice the same song in the shower everyday, this will prepare you for when you do audition for idols. No shower radios are allowed. Talk shows, comedy minutes, news, gossip on the radio will keep you longer in the shower. When your water budget becomes really tight, you should call a plumber and ask him to switch off the warm water. Shower in cold water. A cold shower will scare and scar you from showering the next day thus making showering no longer pleasurable. Before you know it you will shower once a month and eventually replace showering with wet wipes.

2)      Plants

Plants are lovely creatures that embellish our homes. BUT. They need water too. The plants you have should be replaced with succulents, plants that require water every once a month or once every three months. Be very careful how you go about replacing those plants. You would not want to hurt them nor make them feel homeless. Tell them that you are moving to the Middle East and that it’s risky for them to be there. Be sincere. When your water budget is strained it’s time for you to replace the succulents as well. Use your own discretion. I’ve had sleepless nights. Try playing rock music all the time. Don’t let sunlight into your home. Tell them you are now a vampire. Succulents are naïve. Thereafter you are able to welcome artificial plants into your home. They don’t need water.

3)      Laundry

You will not want to ever use a washing machine. They are water loving machines that uses tons of water you need. The best way to wash your clothes will be in rivers and ponds. Greatly recommended rivers to do your washing in are: the Liesbeek, Kuilsriver and the Eersterivier. If you have a large amount of clothing that needs washing consider the Bree River and the Orange river. When you do wash your clothing in ponds make sure to use MAQ washing powder. This will not offend the ducks.

TIP! Stubborn stains can be removed by simple beating with a rock. Do not use angular rocks for they will tear your clothing.

4)      Animals

Animals are common in households. They use a significant percentage of water that you need. That is why we have to let go of them. Animals survive perfectly in the wild. They are capable of fending for themselves. Good bye FeeFee. No fish tanks. Leave the fish in the ocean. There is a way to still have animals in your home. i.e.  paste fish in your fish tank or get fake fish. There are also cat and dog teddy bears. If this doesn’t satisfy you, buy a Tamagotchi or alternatively download a virtual pet onto your mobile phone. in this way you can still have your animals without feeding them water. Parents should teach their kids at a tender age that animals are mythical creatures.

Other ways to save water:

Don’t brush your teeth with water. Use miswaak

Swallow medication without water.

More suggestions:

Cry less.

Drink water because you’re dehydrated, not for fun.

Wash your car and windows when its rains.

No swimming pools are allowed.

Come on guys, stand up and do a rain dance!

 

M.E thanks you for reading.

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Rewind: Ladismith Drought (2015)

I came across this while looking through old emails. This was the first story I wrote with my then mentor. We travelled to Ladismith in the Western Cape to cover the devastating drought, and water shortage there.

Because the Western Cape is going through this current drought, despite occasional rain, I thought the parallels were interesting. Only a few lines were used from my original story, that is copied below in its entirety.

 

The lifeblood of a Karoo town is at stake as administrative bungling could cost Ladismith its water supply. The small town in the Kannaland municipality is used to droughts and dry spells as the concentric circles of the near-dry dams show a dwindling water supply.

However, in-fighting and political manoeuvring could cost the locals their most precious commodity.

Leon Blignault, the technical manager for the municipality, said the town was not out of danger yet. “At this stage we only have 22 days of water left. We have to keep moving the water pump to adjust to the water level”.

In the dam, a sizable pond is visible, however when Blignault points out the markers for how high the water level is allowed to be, the situation becomes clear.  White stones mark a ring around the top of the dam, with the actual water far down below.

Municipal manager Morne Hoogbaard said at present, the town has experienced a water problem for years.

Hoogbaard, the longest serving municipal manager said the time is right for change, as there is “managerial and political stability”.

A new dam is currently under review, and is expected to be completed by December 2016.

“Water Affairs will fund the biggest portion of the R100-million cost, which will subsidise the percentage of poor people, who get free water. We are submitting in March for the final plan,” he said.

“We have equipped two boreholes that will take care of 30% of our needs. We plan on equipping ten boreholes, that will provide 70% of our water,” he said. The cost of the two boreholes is R2-million, but R10-million is needed for all ten, plus an additional R5-million for further exploration in Zoar. He said the situation in Zoar is “equally serious”.

“It is similar in size to households in Ladismith. It is a coloured community with very little industry,  he said.”

He said meetings take place every week as part of a drought management team, with disaster management, water affairs and the municipality.

“It’s not a problem. That’s something that can be solved”

These were the scathing words of principal of Dankoord VGK Primary, Isaac Hartman.

“The pipe starts up there,” he points to the nearby mountain, “so why does it not reach us down here?” he said.

Hartman alleges that the farmers have siphoned off water before it reaches the community below.

“The problem is that the farmers use the water for their households, not just for farming. Those two tanks can’t run dry in one day. They need to investigate it,” he said.

The health of the learners is a major concern. “We have 144 kids. If that many kids use the bathroom with water, you can imagine”

In the sprawling community of Zoar, 10 kilometres fromLadismith, the situation is dire.

“Mense se magies is in hulle moer,” (People’s stomachs are messed up) said resident Cindy Fortuin. Many in the community have complained of diarrhea.

“The dam is like slime. We don’t have money to buy water,” she said.

Ella Ambros, a mother of three, said she has to buy water for her children, aged 2, 5 and 14.

“We have to cook all our water, and sometimes we have to buy. They don’t tell us what the problem is. There is no notice. We had no water at Christmas. You can’t even wash your white laundry. The old people are also getting sick,” she said.

Councillor Hyren Ruiters from the ICOSA party, who has lived in Zoar all his life, said the solutions are coming, but they’re too slow.

“This is an old system. The pipes are too old. There is some work being done on the main line, but its not enough, and borehole water is expensive. There is also the problem of water theft,” he said, referring to tampering of water meters.

“In December, families come home from Cape Town, then water use increases. Another problem is the bucket system. It uses twice the number of water. Over summer, there is a greater demand for water, but our system is never fixed”.

“The provincial government is not as supportive. They’re just there to make promises, and nothing happens on all levels. All support comes from national. ICOSA and the ANC work well together here.”

He warned of the impending danger of further shortages. “The farmers were affected, and that means our people on farms will be layed off too,” he said.

“Oom” Len Hauptfleisch, with his shock of blonde hair, stands in his dilapidated house that he is trying to fix after it was ravaged by a fire. The dribble of water that he could muster was not enough when the fire broke out in is home.

“I got two buckets and threw it on the bed. That little I got from the bathroom didn’t help”

He jokes that sometimes the water goes from drip system to “no system”.

“Sometimes there isn’t even a drop,” he said. Newly painted walls surround the mess of the fire in his living room, where his daughter sits, as he tries to rebuild his life.

“I can’t count how many times I got water from the neighbours on the main water line. Not for drinking though” he said.

“People are very unhappy here. Administration is the problem. I don’t think the reservoir was ever full,” he said.

Back in Ladismith, local farmer, and chairperson of the Klein SwartbergRivier Water Forum, Hennie Kotze said beyond the actual water crisis, there has been a dire lack of communication between key players.

The forum was established in 2012 to deal with the recurring water crisis.

“The farmers have to share the source with the municipality. With all due respect, we get very little co-operation from the municipality. They want the water, but don’t want to discuss it with us”

He conceded to the conditions of the water act, but emphasised that it should be “only for human consumption”.

He was disgruntled about the lack of cohesion in the forum, which, in theory, includes businesses and representatives of the municipality.

“Provincial does nothing. Last week provincial and Water Affairs were here. We heard nothing. We weren’t involved or recognised.”

“If they’re not willing to talk to us, we’ll take it (the water) back,” he said.

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

Ashes – a review

Stefan Erasmus and Jason Jacobs in Ashes. Image – http://alexanderbar.co.za/show/Ashes/

What came first? The staging or the script. Do the two work together? Do they happen over time as they bleed into each other. These are questions as old as theatre itself, and probably with reasonable answers, and I couldn’t help but wonder while watching Ashes.

Deprecation aside, this review wont do anything to sway ticket sales for this play in its final week at the theatre at Alexander Bar in Cape Town. But good art must be appreciated where it can.

But back to the stage. Small – very small – restricting and inescapable. When the actors looked at me, I felt like they were actually looking at me and connecting, indicting and pleading; not merely looking through me as actors are supposed to.

Their performances grab you by the throat. When they break down, you will want to run up and hold them and say “It’s going to be ok” even though you knows it’s really not.

Ashes tells the story of two queer brown boys in Cape Town – a description that belies the depth of the story. These levels of depth felt while watching the two actors, Stefan Erasmus and Jason Jacobs’s characters dance around each other is breath taking.

They flit in and out of various characters, chipping away until the nuances in the archetypes are revealed. A flick of a jersey transforms a young man into a judgmental woman; a hoodie turns the other young man into his homophobic bully. The supporting characters all float around the main two, who interact with each other only briefly, letting the audience in on their tender moments – intimate, honest and gut wrenching, as we are driven to the conclusion, which was obvious but still impactful.

The mostly epistolary (letter writing) style works well, as the characters tell their stories without reaction from other characters. But the only downside I could find, which still works in its own way, was the crutch of exposition. Parents and son tell of his coming out story, and the conversation about what to call each other – boyfriends, lovers, partners? Forced, but still necessary. By virtue of its existence, queer work is still revolutionary, but somehow still new, therefore nothing can be taken for granted.

Don’t let the words queer and brown throw you off. It’s a story that many can relate to – the two lovers meet by chance in the city. One a small town buy. Forces work against them and their ghostly worlds are torn apart. The notion of love, not as obvious as in other works, binds the characters, but hardly ever at the same time.

I went in not knowing what the play was about other than the risky epithet of “gay play”, and was taken aback by the devastating account.

The audience was small, a lot less than the already small theatre at Alexander Bar could hold, which led me to believe that this was a play that was not being seen by as many people as it should.

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Those old Bronx days

Let me tell you about those Bronx days. The old Bronx days.

You would enter that place and feel either completely brazen, or intimidated as shit. This happened to me on my first night there in 2005.

I walked in and felt powerful. People would be transformed. In my case, I spoke to the cutest guy I saw. Brendan was his name, I think. The details are sketchy now, as details tend to be in hindsight, but I do remember a lovely conversation, and him being completely not into me! It was an either/or environment. I saw him a few weeks later and greeted him by name, which shocked him. Names were apparently not always important, or required.

Bronx Action Bar in Cape Town represented a microcosm that I have yet to experience. That feeling probably speaks to the well-worn sayings about first times never being forgotten, for a variety of reasons.

The décor was sailor-disco, or something.

So why write about a gay bar?

Because I woke up one night this year and just remembered what it was like. 2006 – 2007 were the best years of my life. Yes, Bryan Adams lifted that line from my memory, Marty McFly-style. I was young, had great carefree friends and just enough money to have a good time and make the most of my early 20s.

We would greet with air kisses (completely out of character for me, throwing me into a new kind of deep end) and do a quick catch-up – work, studies, family, life, nothing too distracting. Things always look different in a dark room punctuated with flashing lights. We all went there to forget the outside world. It was special, different. Reviled by some, hard to resist by all.

We were friends for a few hours, and then we left; ready to deride the mundane until the next time. But you didn’t go there to make friends. Rather, it was a place to unite and escape.

And then it all came crashing down. Literally. The entire block, which had restaurants and other clubs, were torn down in a fit of yuppie development. I remember seeing it in the disrespectful Saturday sunlight – one huge pit of rubble and cranes, moulding a shiny new building.

I couldn’t help but feel like a part of my formative years was being broken down. My mind hearkened to a time that I didn’t even know; forced removals and buildings being torn down. A dark chapter in South Africa’s history, and nowhere near comparable, but it was the closest I have felt to reading, and being moved by Richard Rive’s Buckingham Palace  (a biographical book about District Six I read at school). Seeing a home, of sorts, a multicultural orgy of carefree fun happiness where nothing else mattered for a while.

When it was moved, to across the road no less, the inside was preserved and looked similar to the old establishment. But it was not the same. Everybody knew that. That feeling was gone. And before you even knew it, that Bronx was torn down too.

In the interim, when “new” Bronx (as I begrudgingly referred to it) was being built, Beaulah (lesbian) Bar popped up, I saw a “friend” from the “old” days. We complained that it was not the same as Bronx. We were being prissy, because Beaulah Bar was fine, but “it’s not Bronx” we nagged, to which he conceded, “it’s something” as he shrugged his shoulders.

I know that what I experienced was just one tiny slice in an establishment and history a lot bigger than I could ever imagine. I’ve heard other stories; I’ve heard better.

The stories of drugs escaped my naïve eyes until pointed out to me by friends. The place always seemed filthy and the smell of drain cleaner in the toilets, (which also served as occasional hook-up areas, I was shocked to discover) and then there was also the killing of the owner.

But just for that short time, it was mine. For those weekends when we escaped, it was ours, and it was great.

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

What more do we need?

As I adjust to life on my own in the big city of Jozi, I’ve realised a few things. The main thing is that life is simple; we humans complicate it. This revelation came to me as I was cooking, of all things. It actually came to me a few weeks ago in the shower (wait, come back, it’s not going there. I promise!)

I was sudsing up with my buchu soap. Now this is, without plugging too much, a product that my friend sells. It’s marketed as “organic”, and even when you check the label, does not contain that much. Five ingredients, tops. Whereas my soap from a very big manufacturer contains a whole lot more, with names I, admittedly, struggle to pronounce.

So I was in the kitchen cooking my lentils and rice and thought about my grandparents. Their (my maternal grandmother has passed) favourite food is simple. Potatoes and meat, braised with an onion, lightly season; soup with a few ingredients, boiled down and enjoyed or even fish, drizzled with lemon and butter and cooked on the fire. This is a sampling of many others to illustrate how simplicity is favoured by them. My paternal grandmother, pushing 90, also favours simplicity, but also routine. She eats a cooked egg and the fare at her old age home every day.  (Side note, and for those who speak Afrikaans, it’s so funny hearing them refer to their food in their mother tongue – boontjie sop, kool kos and others)

Well I find it funny, walking around Woolworths, how the food my grandparents eat and enjoy, differs from what is on offer in the culinary hub of middle to upper class South Africans. It might be fresh and organic, but not always simple. It’s also worth wondering how the food my grandparents eat would be perceived by rich people. Our ideas are enforced by what we are fed, so to speak, by society, and it’s funny how we don’t question this.

This thought only came to me as I can’t afford to pop into Woolworths, or just Woolies if you’re comfortable like that, so I’ve had to rely on my emergency stash of food as I eagerly await pay day. Oh the bane of the middle class curse! But we are so comfortable living a certain way that we refuse to question it in case it upsets the balance that we are so used to. Heaven forbid we are perceived as not having a certain amount of ingredients in our soap, food or homes. It only takes a level of wealth to realise that now that you have more, you want more.

For the record, my skin looks a lot better with the simple soap and my health is better when I eat simpler. I might even push 90 myself if I cut out the complications that life throws our way (my grandfather is 81). Funny thing is, if you go to an organic market, the prices are usually not affordable for the masses. This was my experience at these markets in both Cape Town and Jozi, because the demand is simply too big, and exclusivity sells as well as quality. Go to any exclusive restaurant or club and you will (hopefully) also wonder, after the few perks, what the fuss is all about. You will realise that you are part of an elite.

So that was a bit of a ramble, but I’m sure you get my point. Keep it simple, and you might realise that you were filling a lot of space and time that you could have used elsewhere. Happy living, faithful readers and Floor Jawers. 

Author Jerome Cornelius

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Photo Gallery – Looking up, and urban art

You will be amazed to find when you tilt your gaze upwards. These are photos in which I did that. It’s also a love note to Cape Town.

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Palimpsest poster in Salt River.

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The dissolving woman

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Is she emerging from, or disappearing into… ?

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This made me feel like Alice in Wonderland, spinning down a gyre.

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Looking up, this makes me feel so small, like I’m about to climb a mountain.

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A building in Cape Town I often passed… I looked at it in a new way.

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There’s something European about this building. Reminds me of buildings I saw in Germany.

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So chic.

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Hello?

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Photo Gallery – Golden hour and other lights

While making a student documentary film last year, it became evident that I enjoy playing around with light – especially dappled and contrasts, which shows in the photos below. Golden hour is a photographic term for the soft light during the first few hours of sunlight. This is a collection of golden hour, and other shots of pretty lighting.

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Looking up 🙂

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When dark met light.

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That moment when it breaks through…

101_1459 101_1463 101_1464 101_1466 101_1467 101_1468 101_1469 101_1470 101_1496 IMG00406-20120318-0922 IMG00719-20121014-0936<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

Cape Town Gay Pride? Let’s hope so

Disclaimer: I have shared many hyperlinks in this piece. I don’t usually do that. They are all previous posts by me, and are relevant to what I am saying.

What is there even to say about Pride at a time like this. Please refer to Google and check out the brilliant archive that is gay rights and the year that was… all two months of it thus far.

This is the first Cape Town Gay Pride march that I will not be attending, simply because I am not in Cape Town. But even if I were, would it have made a difference? This is a question I have heard often. Also, the endless critiques of Pride marches. Do we still need them? Absolutely.   I have personally seen shifts in people. I have also seen people regress and become absolute ignorant homophobes. We are here for both of them. The more that we are ourselves, the more others will have to accept that we are not going anywhere.

And yes, we. Accepting that you are part of a community is vital. You may be gay and not like that you are boxed into the same acronym as a trans-gendered individual, but you both are being discriminated against for something that is sexuality-linked and out of your control. It makes sense to me. Deal with your discomfort and realise that you are wasting the power of community. Stand up! And if you witness stupidity, stand up again.  And if you see more, keep standing up until you are tired. That’s why we encourage community. We need not only fighters, but supporters.

I have been hearing a lot of blanket statements lately. Let me remind you, there are no good stereotypes. Taking pride in how you are is acceptance of who you are, and your place with others – in this case, your gay self. This does not mean that you have to conform to any standard, even your own. I am so sick of pople looking down on femininity in men, and in so doing glorifying masculinities. There is no such thing as an ideal/perfect man/woman. Just be conscious of who you are and what you are doing. When someone says something offensive, stand up and call them out on it. I have not been entirely good on this, I have to admit. But how will the world change if we are not comfortable with fighting injustices, especially the small ones.

Pride is without a doubt a party. I have had the best times of my life at the last three marches. I do want the community to be more, as i wrote last year. But it also has its issues, and it is also a political statement. Who could forget Joburg Pride and what happened with the 1 in 9 campaign? If you can remember that, then we will get along just fine and I wont have to call you out on anything.

To end, a friend recently posted something on Facebook lamenting the situation in Uganda. It is pathetic and the violations of human rights being ignored around the world will come back to haunt us. Once again, people are paying a price for simply being. But we are also not entirely innocent (not that we are to blame), but how many of us have jumped on a bandwagon and been activists in isolation?  Are you only campaigning and fighting for your own cause? Will we move on to the next issue as soon as Uganda has died down and the people there have found a way to deal with what is happening? Do we picket the Nigerian embassy for a few weeks then realise that some other state has implemented their own homophobic laws?

This was my take on my friend’s anger regarding Uganda, and what “we can do about it”:

Well, to me it’d this belief that we are powerless because we might not have resources to make a difference. What about intention? Look at that horrible Kony campaign. That was completely self-serving and it seemed to be done with an end in sight, which is a little unrealistic. This Uganda issue is a huge deal too, as is our other favourite, Palestine. We must use the resources we have at our disposal, and not be despondent when they “don’t work”. Here comes the esotericism (I’m sorry), but what we do will emanate outwards [to others, and touch them in some way]. So how often do you laugh at a homophobic joke? When last did you rap along and say the n-word [in a song]? When last did you walk past an incident of injustice and not speak up? That’s the difference. The same can be applied to social media, and doing what we can with what we have. Be consistent, militant and conscious.

We are dealing with people and lives here. This is not a school project. If we are serious about changing the world, then it will start with us (you). Once we realise that, then it will be a brighter day.

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

Don’t judge a house

And people who live in glass books should really get their proverbs in check.

I’ve been looking for a place to stay while in Joburg, and have essentially been homeless. I was SO grateful to have a few excellent hosts who put me up out of the goodness of their hearts. But while searching, it seems that perceptions and assumptions are what define us.

I’ve always said that a little assumption is good. It keeps us on our toes, and as long as you are aware that people may not be the way you initially thought they were. Keeping an open heart and mind when we live in a world filled with so much evil and darkness is really hard.

A few years ago in a volunteer training session, we were asked to discuss our own prejudices. Mine was that black men are homophobic. This admittance was important because it forces it out of the mind and consciousness and we then have two choices: realise that our prejudices are based on our experiences (duh!), but also that they may not always be correct. I have been pleasantly surprised that my prejudice has been mostly incorrect. And it’s also important to not confuse being wary with being overly paranoid.

This idea of prejudice came to the fore while looking for a place, both from and in Joburg. I spent a lot of time in a suburb called Observatory in Cape Town. I loved it there – hipster does not begin to describe it. There’s a lot of peace and love types walking around, which is great. But it also has its dark side, like most other places. Well Melville is apparently the Observatory (or Obs) of Joburg. Everyone from Cape town told me this and said it’s a good option. It turns out that quite a few reputable people who I know live there.  Funny enough, I also got the “but certain parts of it…” and “it can be dodgy, watch out”. Driving through it, I really pondered on this “don’t judge a book by its cover”, because it looked great! I didn’t find a place there, but it looked like somewhere id live…. Like Obs. Then again, two of my friends had cars stolen in Obs, so it seems the outside does not always dictate the behaviour of others.

 On that, i was told by two new friends here in Joburg how much they love Cape Town because it’s so friendly and open. I happen to think the reverse, and jokingly call it Clique Town, because the up-and-down stares one gets when you walk into a club is quite obvious. Parties seem to be divided into high school-like groups. Yet the Joburgers saw it in the complete opposite way.

Seems like there may have been some truth in the proverb.

Just as a bonus, check this road sign for the area in Jozi called “Observatory”. Oy vey!

IMG-20140210-00089<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Photo Galley – Love, Hope and Hugs

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“Love” bottle surrounded by Light 🙂

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Now THAT is how you set a table.

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I see a heart.

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Maybe one day this wont even be necessary…

IMG01010-20131128-1318101_1726101_1725101_1720101_1684101_1682101_1681<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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