There will be Kak

Most festive greetings to you dear reader.  I do hope the season of merriment and excessive consumer consumptive practises is treating you well.  Except for a brief moment when everybody thought that somebody else was tending to the turkey (no that is not a euphemism, tut-tut) my Christmas has passed smoothly enough. 

Did I mention that the Husband and I have flown South for Winter and hopefully longer (should the Universe align in the correct manner facilitating financial rewards i.e. not unemployment etc. etc). 

I said goodbye to my dear Myvanwy at the end of November and inducted a new South African as her faithful companion.  The Husband came to collect me from Vanny’s and despite my firm resolution not to cry I was bawling like a baby for the next hour of our car trip.  I was so terribly sad to leave my dear friend and housemate of the last 9 months as she has been confidant and advisor and a hell of a good laugh.  The terrible niggle that at 93 I may not see her again weighs heavily on my heart.  Luckily the new me is fantastic and we message regularly so I can keep up with the comings and going of my geriatric social circle i.e. Vanny’s bridge ‘girls’.

So I’m back in S.A and can report that the sun is shining, the mosquitoes are biting, crime is still and issue - my poor grandmother had her car nicked two nights ago (!Bastards!) and the President Jacob Zuma (JZ) still has a way with words (‘He recently described people who loved dogs more than people as “having a lack of humanity”.  Spending money on buying a dog, taking it to the vet and for walks belonged to white culture and was not the African way.’)  All I can say is every dog has its day and JZ best hope the Buddhists are wrong about that whole karmic reincarnation thing. Zuma’s official media man, Mac Maharaj, is backpedalling up a storm claiming that the President’s comments where an attempt to decolonise the African mind, which many a canny twitter commentator has noted is best done by driving German cars, wearing Swiss watches and drinking Scottish whisky.

All of which reminds of a joke of my father’s:

An American goes on a game drive in search of the king of the African veld, the mighty lion.  Before they head out the game ranger has a few pointers for him:

Ranger: Now if we should be caught off guard away from a vehicle and a lion approaches I want you to wave your arms in the air and walk towards him and he should back down.

Yank: But what if he doesn’t back down?

Ranger: Then you should slowly back up to the vehicle never breaking eye-contact and he should stay where he is.

Yank: But what if he keeps on coming?

Ranger: Then I want you to find a piece of kak and smear it all over your body, especially your face.

Yank: But what if there isn’t any what do you call it ‘kak’?

Ranger: Ag, man, there will be kak.  There is always kak.

And there lies the moral of this little tale, there will be kak, there is always kak, but shoo-hey I’m glad to be home.