Pruning Roses - destructively constructive!

One of our lecturers once made a fellow-student sit and think about an activity that was both destructive and constructive. She could come up with a few, like weeding the garden, for instance. But the one that Ms P (cue bottle-green-polyester-clad Amazon, hair tightly swept back into a severe bun, specs on the edge of her nose) specifically wanted, was pruning roses.

In her opinion, it perfectly summed up the idea of something bad needing to happen so that good could come of it all in the name of therapy.  In other words, she was being cruel to be kind, which is another way of being destructive and constructive at the same time!

I recently spent the afternoon doing exactly that in the garden. Yes, I know it is rather late in the season to be pruning the roses but I got a little fooled by the outrageous flirting of the Spring which still will not come...  The new growth was already sprouting forth and I had to force myself to ruthlessly cut it away, while visualising the beautiful roses it would bear come summer time.

It was a deeply satisfying activity, even though there is a real danger that I may not be quite as green-thumbed as I should be...! Anyway, I hope that Ms P will be proud of my efforts and that much good will come of my destructive hours...

Big Words

I treated myself to a set of BIG WORDS flashcards today. Yes, I know I may be getting a bit on in years for flash cards, but it seemed like such fun to sample the smorgasbord of seldom used words. I was tickled pink by the phrase which caught my eye: “I may be Lilliputian but I am still remarkably strong!” It stayed with me as I walked out of the shop at the Old Biscuit Mill this morning and I had to go back for more!

It was asking to be read in an English accent. In fact, the last time I heard someone use discombobulate (one of the other words in the pack), it was indeed an Englishman – no less than HRH Prince Charles who was bemoaning the "discombobulating around the climate change issues" just before COP17 was to take place in Durban in December last year.

So be prepared to be dazzled by some splendiferous words! The pack includes instructions for three fun games and is recommended for ages 6 and up...ssh! And, yes they are all in the Oxford dictionary, even splendiferous – I checked! I promise not to start acting all hoity-toity now that I know some big words.

BIG WORD Flashcards is distributed by Knock Knock, a registered trademark of Who’s There Inc. 

Want to live longer? Just walk! - IOL Lifestyle | IOL.co.za

Want to live longer? Just walk! - IOL Lifestyle | IOL.co.za

Running shoes, Mattresses and Husbands

So I am into my third month of Run/Walk for Life and have been clocking up the kilometres. I am feeling quite proud of myself - I am going faster and further and am now well into a routine. As I told my husband, this is not for sissies. Being part of a structured program has definite rewards, not least of which is the encouragement to turn up regularly. 

We were having a chat about sports shoes the other day. It is so difficult to get the right pair especially when you are a certain age and aches and pains start to make themselves felt. You really only find out if they are right for you after you have walked a distance in them and then it's too late to return them. 

The variety of shoes available can be quite confusing and you need to accommodate for personal quirks like pronation and supination, heel strike and width of foot. If you are not careful the ill-fitting shoe may have caused a chain reaction all the way up to your back...the ankle bone is connected to the knee bone, the knee bone is connected to the thigh bone and so on! As a fellow-walker observed, there are many expensive things that you actually need to try out  before you buy...like running shoes, mattresses and husbands!

I came across an article on choosing the right sports shoe on the Health24 website which may be helpful.

Philanthropy Heroes Honoured at Inyathelo Awards | NGO Pulse

Philanthropy Heroes Honoured at Inyathelo Awards | NGO Pulse:

'via Blog this'

My South Africa

A friend reminded me about this piece by Professor Jonathan Jansen in response to my last blog.  

Professor Jonathan Jansen

My South Africa is the working-class man who called from the airport to return my wallet without a cent missing. It is the white woman who put all three of her domestic worker's children through the same school that her own child attended. It is the politician in one of our rural provinces, Mpumalanga, who returned his salary to the government as a statement that standing with the poor had to be more than just a few words. It is the teacher who worked after school hours every day during the public sector strike to ensure her children did not miss out on learning. 

My South Africa is the first-year university student in Bloemfontein who took all the gifts she received for her birthday and donated them - with the permission of the givers - to a home for children in an Aids village. It is the people hurt by racist acts who find it in their hearts to publicly forgive the perpetrators. It is the group of farmers in Paarl who started a top school for the children of farm workers to ensure they got the best education possible while their parents toiled in the vineyards. It is the farmer's wife in Viljoenskroon who created an education and training centre for the wives of farm labourers so that they could gain the advanced skills required to operate accredited early-learning centers for their own and other children. 

My South Africa is that little white boy at a decent school in the Eastern Cape who decided to teach the black boys in the community to play cricket, and to fit them all out with the togs required to play the gentleman's game. It is the two black street children in Durban, caught on camera, who put their spare change in the condensed milk tin of a white beggar. It is the Johannesburg pastor who opened up his church as a place of shelter for illegal immigrants. It is the Afrikaner woman from Boksburg who nailed the white guy who shot and killed one of South Africa's greatest freedom fighters outside his home. 

My South Africa is the man who went to prison for 27 years and came out embracing his captors, thereby releasing them from their impending misery. It is the activist priest who dived into a crowd of angry people to rescue a woman from a sure necklacing. It is the former police chief who fell to his knees to wash the feet of Mamelodi women whose sons disappeared on his watch; it is the women who forgave him in his act of contrition. It is the Cape Town university psychologist who interviewed the 'Prime Evil' in Pretoria Centre and came away with emotional attachment, even empathy, for the human being who did such terrible things under apartheid. 

My South Africa is the quiet, dignified, determined township mother from Langa who straightened her back during the years of oppression and decided that her struggle was to raise decent children, insist that they learn, and ensure that they not succumb to bitterness or defeat in the face of overwhelming odds. It is the two young girls who walked 20kms to school everyday, even through their matric years, and passed well enough to be accepted into university studies. It is the student who takes on three jobs, during the evenings and on weekends, to find ways of paying for his university studies. 

My South Africa is the teenager in a wheelchair who works in townships serving the poor. It is the pastor of a Kenilworth church whose parishioners were slaughtered, who visits the killers and asks them for forgiveness because he was a beneficiary of apartheid. It is the politician who resigns on conscientious grounds, giving up status and salary because of an objection in principle to a social policy of her political party. It is the young lawman who decides to dedicate his life to representing those who cannot afford to pay for legal services. 

My South Africa is not the angry, corrupt, violent country those deeds fill the front pages of newspapers and the lead-in items on the seven-o'-clock news. It is the South Africa often unseen, yet powered by the remarkable lives of ordinary people. It is the citizens who keep the country together through millions of acts of daily kindness. 

I copied the article and photograph from the South Africa The Good News website.

Professor Jonathan Jansen is the Rector and Vice-Chancellor of the University of the Free State.

Crime like a Cancer

This morning I still feel shattered by the bad news I had yesterday. A friend’s husband has been murdered. I feel completely helpless. There should be something I can do. 

It took a while to sink in and I hung onto the possibility that the person who was telling it to me may have got it wrong somehow ... maybe they didn't hear it properly; did they actually see it happen?  Or were they just passing on a message which they didn't understand? It’s as if my brain refused to process it.

There’s a cancer that’s eating away at our society. It is threatening to undo all the hard work that has gone into building the hope which was generated by the hardships we endured in the past. Cancer needs to be fought with everything you have in order to survive. And with a lot more if you want to carry on living a quality life.

That’s what we have to do with the terrible violent crime that is spreading day by day, touching everyone’s life. You cope by convincing yourself that it cannot happen to you. And then, it is in your circle and hits you in the chest. We have to stand up and fight this, before there is no one left to fight for us.

You’re only beat when you think you are and when you give up the fight. Today I am hanging onto that and feeling sad. Tomorrow I hope that I will remember something that helps me pick up the fight.