The night air is punctuated with snores, grunts, an occasional Kiswahilli conversation, and of all things a radio! My ears cannot believe themselves as snuggled deep in my sleeping bag, they are subjected to a night of foreign chatter. I toss and turn, too hot and too cold, tired but far from sleep, and so I don't. Eventually grey light filters into our tent and begs me to get going. I am certainly keen enough!
Breakfast is welcome, more so the call to action; dwende. Day 2 begins with an incredible section of rain forest, each corner giving rise to something more spectacular than the last. Surely some of these trees have seen more than a 1000 summers!
And then everything changes and I find myself transported to a slice of the Western Cape, complete with fynbos! It is an incredibly long uphill slog, no respite, just up. The clouds threaten to engulf us, their cool mists a thankful shield from the sun. We walk on and up, each of us lost in the silence of our thoughts. I find myself deep in prayer, every step a tribute to all I know.
After forever, the path starts to contour and then opens up onto the Shira Plain. Walking is easy now, and Shira Camp 1 is visible far in the distance. In time it draws nearer until I am seated and being served lunch in our mess tent. A very welcome break as we do not stop along the way due to our slow pace.
We set off practically moments after we down our lunch tools. A tough 3 hour slog awaits. More prayer and more solutions to the worlds problems. Shira Camp 2 is beyond expectations with a wonderful view of the mountain we must still face. The clouds pile up just below the camp, absolutely beautiful. The sun sets in spectatular style through the clouds, illuminating Kili in pink. I rush for my camera but fail dismally to capture this fantastic vision. Instead it is imprinted on my memory forever. In moments a cloud engulfs the camp and the temperature plummets. I manage to sneak in a phone call home and am overjoyed to talk to Donna and the boys. Isabella screamed in the background, man I love these guys! Cell phone reception has not been all it was supposed to be.
Tonight I have an action plan to ensure sleep. Heaven help anyone who dares leave their radio on all night!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
And my soul took flight
We meet our team of support staff, all 8 of them! A guide, a cook, and a bunch of porters. We clambour into our 4x4 mini bus taxi and aim for the trailhead that marks the start of our chosen trail; Lemoshi. It is an interesting journey along a single track through thick forest. The off road abilities of the vehicle are an absolute necessity, and it is obvious that this trip in the rain would be impossible.
We lunch here at the start of our big adventure. Tomato sandwiches and fruit, absolutely delicious! Then with packs on our backs,we set off into the rain forest. The trail just heads straight up, we are climbing a mountain after all!
Our guide sets a pace that is incredibly slow, literally a super slow dawdle. The motto on the mountain is pole-pole, slow! The slower we go now, the better we will acclimatise. We hope!
The forest is incredible! Trees that are hundreds of years old squint down on us through their beards of lichen. Vines swing in branches and tiny flowers vie for attention with their bright colours. Pretty monkeys hop, chatter, and swing, disturbed by our unusual presence.
The slow pace does something to me. I begin to forget about the big goal, and start to glory in the incredible surrounds. The beauty, the sounds of life, the smell of mother nature. My soul is filled with peace and joy. I feel at home!
The walk is not hard at our pace and after countless photographs we arrive at Nti Mkubwa, big tree, our camp for the night. We are greeted with the sight of our tents and invited to a cup of Milo. Incredibly civilised! Dinner is served in the same tent and is surprisingly good. Both Dave and I are absolutely famished and we plough through the soup, the vegetables, the roast potatoes, the meat stew, and even the mango. I am a happy man!
The campsite is filled with the hum of voices as many other parties arrive and set up camp. The sun sets in a golden light show and in the remaining darkness we realise that there is not much left for us to do but go to bed. Tomorrow is a big day as we must walk 16km and climb another 1000m.
What a day! How amazing to be sleeping on the side of Kilimanjaro! How privillaged we are!
Monday, September 27, 2010
Planes & more planes
Arrived at airport early. Got a new bag. Repacked bag to ensure all climbing essentials go hand luggage. Walk to check in. Flight to Nairobi cancelled. Booked onto new flight 4 hours later. Wangle free meal for the fun of it. Mom comes to wave goodbye. Mom takes me home.
We chat. Mom drops me off at airport. it's the second time today! Head through passport control. Take advantage of free lunch. Flight to Nairobi delayed. Air Kenya not looking like their slogan; 'the pride of Africa'. Plane departs, eventually. Read half my book. Arrive Nairobi just before 21h00. Walk off plane and onto connection to Dar es Salaam. Congratulate self on how easy that was.
Plane develops flat tyre. All passengers deplane. I read some more. We board again, much later. Arrive Dar well after midnight. I charge to the front to be first to visa application. Realisation strikes, hand luggage still comfortable on plane. Swim upstream through exiting passengers. Collect bag. Head to back of queue. Process is speedy for a change. Helps to understand the way things work in Africa. I congratulate myself on being patient.
Wait endlessly for bag. No bag. Fill out lost bag forms for second time in 2 flights. Catch taxi to hotel. Check in amidst friendly welcome. Open carry on bag. No toiletries, again. No pants for morning business meeting either!
I congratulate myself on smiling! Tomorrow will be fun and I will enjoy it.
Perhaps my stuff will even arrive...
We chat. Mom drops me off at airport. it's the second time today! Head through passport control. Take advantage of free lunch. Flight to Nairobi delayed. Air Kenya not looking like their slogan; 'the pride of Africa'. Plane departs, eventually. Read half my book. Arrive Nairobi just before 21h00. Walk off plane and onto connection to Dar es Salaam. Congratulate self on how easy that was.
Plane develops flat tyre. All passengers deplane. I read some more. We board again, much later. Arrive Dar well after midnight. I charge to the front to be first to visa application. Realisation strikes, hand luggage still comfortable on plane. Swim upstream through exiting passengers. Collect bag. Head to back of queue. Process is speedy for a change. Helps to understand the way things work in Africa. I congratulate myself on being patient.
Wait endlessly for bag. No bag. Fill out lost bag forms for second time in 2 flights. Catch taxi to hotel. Check in amidst friendly welcome. Open carry on bag. No toiletries, again. No pants for morning business meeting either!
I congratulate myself on smiling! Tomorrow will be fun and I will enjoy it.
Perhaps my stuff will even arrive...
A humble stumble
Driving a car can get you killed, whether you plan for that to happen or not. Been driven can have the same consequences. Simple decisions that we make every day can make the difference between life and death.
I often wonder about the decisions that I make on a daily basis. Some are obviously more risky than others, like surfing in big surf, running down mountains, or playing beach soccer with some of my neighbours! The chances of being injured are rather high, but dying would be extraordinary.
Going off to climb Kili is one of those decisions I have made. And yes dying is a real possibility. Dying on this mountain is not because of the extreme weather conditions, although they may be uncomfortable. Instead it is the high altitude that is the sneaky killer.
Altitude sickness is completely preventable in all its forms. The remedy is to descend and to descend fast. The problem comes in the form of highly driven individuals focussed on a singular goal. Individuals who won't turn back just beacause of a few unpleasant symptoms. Ahem, guys like me!
There is a fine line at high altitude between toughing it out and listening to one's body. There is a lot of humility involved too. Do I have it in me to fail? To give it up in sight of the goal because it may be too risky?
We have just flown over Kilimanjaro. It lies thousands of feet below the plane, yet I feel it's prescence, a completely unknown. I am humbled by the thought that I may have some real decisions to make on the side of this rock pile. Big decisions! Funny how the remote possibility of death can do that to one!
Humility feels alien to me. I certainly have a long way to go if I want to live a humble life of service to others! Perhaps the decisions I make here will not only affect my climb but the way I plan to live the rest of my life.
I often wonder about the decisions that I make on a daily basis. Some are obviously more risky than others, like surfing in big surf, running down mountains, or playing beach soccer with some of my neighbours! The chances of being injured are rather high, but dying would be extraordinary.
Going off to climb Kili is one of those decisions I have made. And yes dying is a real possibility. Dying on this mountain is not because of the extreme weather conditions, although they may be uncomfortable. Instead it is the high altitude that is the sneaky killer.
Altitude sickness is completely preventable in all its forms. The remedy is to descend and to descend fast. The problem comes in the form of highly driven individuals focussed on a singular goal. Individuals who won't turn back just beacause of a few unpleasant symptoms. Ahem, guys like me!
There is a fine line at high altitude between toughing it out and listening to one's body. There is a lot of humility involved too. Do I have it in me to fail? To give it up in sight of the goal because it may be too risky?
We have just flown over Kilimanjaro. It lies thousands of feet below the plane, yet I feel it's prescence, a completely unknown. I am humbled by the thought that I may have some real decisions to make on the side of this rock pile. Big decisions! Funny how the remote possibility of death can do that to one!
Humility feels alien to me. I certainly have a long way to go if I want to live a humble life of service to others! Perhaps the decisions I make here will not only affect my climb but the way I plan to live the rest of my life.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Oh to have a brain
The family departed Cape Town on Thursday in a baggage laden conveyance somewhat reminescent of the Groot Trek. Travelling with baby generally means vast amounts of baggage, let alone the requirements of river rafting, mountain climbing, and business meetings!
We somehow found ourselves in Johannesburg with most of our sanity intact. Luggage, though, was a close call, with about a hundred bags making their way back into our grubby paws and one that did not. Luckily, this was the bag into which I had packed all of my essential climbing kit. The theory being to take this bag as hand luggage on my subsequent flights into Africa as baggage often dissappears into dark holes on these flights. Well I found one of those holes right here in sunny SA.
A couple of hours later and we were en route to Parys, a small country town about an hour and a half out of Johannesburg. My brother in law and his wife were shuttling us off to their 40th birthday bash. We had unceremonially dumped all 3 kids on grannies doorstep for some much needed love and attention. With horrow I discovered that I had left my phone with them. They would not be using it as I had managed to forget my pin and lock myself out of the thing. A situation only resolved by my neighbour rummaging through all of my documentation to find the PUK number and a visit to a Vodashop. But now I am getting ahead of myself.
By the morning of day 2, the venue looked incredible. Or at least this is what I was told as I am not the best judge of these things. The 100 chinese lanterns strung up on the roof were 'fully cool'! Lunch came at just the right time, lunchtime, which came just before our river rafting expidition. Donna and I teamed up against popular marriage advise and loved the 8.5km of paddling. OK, so loved is a strong word, but we had fun, and managed to avoid all arguments.
Dripping wet, we managed to fix our thirst problem repeaedly for some time. Sadly that all ended when peer pressure forced me back to my room for a shower and the use of my newly borrowed toiletries. 2 minutes later, I was somewhat clean but surprisingly thirsty, and made my way to the function to fix that problem properly. It was a great party and I helped prop up the bar and set the dance floor alight. Actually I did none of those things but managed to poorly copy some of those who did, for short periods of time!
All that brings us to now. I sit at the airport waiting for a plane as my flight was cancelled. I have new flight arrangements that may get me to my destination today. I may instead enjoy the complimentary service of some dive in Nairobi. Ah, the joy of travel in Africa!
Fortunately my missing bag turned up, although in a rather worse state of wear than when it departed. Presumably an eldery lady mistook her completely different bag for mine. Realising her key did not fit did not deter her in the slightest as she ripped off the zips with some pliers. Only when she had unpacked the entire case and not found her favourite polka dot negligee did she realise that she may have the wrong bag. Surprisingly all of my kit was there. Even more surprisingly, BA handed me a new second hand bag to replace my newly modified one.
I sincerely hope the universe is not trying to tell me something!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
As slow as possible
Today was supposed to be a frantic rush of last minute preparations interspersed with work deadlines. Instead all of the pieces of work fell into place yesterday, leaving today free.
What a gift!
I thought I might sneak off for a surf. The beast swallowed my surfing kit for the trip to the beach, only to return with it all in the same dry condition. The waves were appalling!
Instead I found myself at mass. That’s right, church on a Wednesday morning. It was beautiful, better than the surfing could ever have been. It struck me that throughout the world, all day, every day, hundreds of masses are being said. That there are people praying for others, all of the time! I found that comforting, and added my own prayers to the pot.
Now I have a whole day to do the things I need to do, at the slowest possible pace!
Which by the way is the secret to climbing Kili; doing it at the slowest possible pace. It is said that smokers and overweight people are most likely to summit. Smokers have an advantage because they are used to breathing less oxygen, and overweight people are used to going slower. Young fit people are least likely to summit because they go too fast and don’t acclimatise. Essentially the atmospheric pressure at the top of Kilimanjaro is only 20% of that at sea level. In other words, it is five times harder to get the same amount of oxygen into ones lungs.
Climbing this mountain is going to teach me a lot!
I am going to push technology to the limit and post directly to my blog from the mountainside. I hope you will follow my journey with a wry smile and lots of enthusiasm!
What a gift!
I thought I might sneak off for a surf. The beast swallowed my surfing kit for the trip to the beach, only to return with it all in the same dry condition. The waves were appalling!
Instead I found myself at mass. That’s right, church on a Wednesday morning. It was beautiful, better than the surfing could ever have been. It struck me that throughout the world, all day, every day, hundreds of masses are being said. That there are people praying for others, all of the time! I found that comforting, and added my own prayers to the pot.
Now I have a whole day to do the things I need to do, at the slowest possible pace!
Which by the way is the secret to climbing Kili; doing it at the slowest possible pace. It is said that smokers and overweight people are most likely to summit. Smokers have an advantage because they are used to breathing less oxygen, and overweight people are used to going slower. Young fit people are least likely to summit because they go too fast and don’t acclimatise. Essentially the atmospheric pressure at the top of Kilimanjaro is only 20% of that at sea level. In other words, it is five times harder to get the same amount of oxygen into ones lungs.
Climbing this mountain is going to teach me a lot!
I am going to push technology to the limit and post directly to my blog from the mountainside. I hope you will follow my journey with a wry smile and lots of enthusiasm!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
All by myself
It is Sunday evening and I am sitting in bed. The day has been filled with church, an awesome lunch with friends, work on the house, and a couple of hours of work for clients. Nothing too out of the ordinary but then again not very relaxing!
I exited church today filled with thoughts. Enough for days of blogs, if I could only remember them all...
I did realise that my climb up Kili has come at just the right time, as I am ready for some avid soul searching. It was not long ago that I gave up the corporate world to follow my passions. Ending up of course with my own business and tons of freedom. I am not sure that I have found my passion, and that is certainly worth contemplating on the side of a mountain!
Hopefully I will be blogging my way to the top, and you will be able to share in my pain in the comfort of your own chair. It will be very interesting to see if technology will play it's part.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Divide and conquer
The mountain did not get to see me again last week. By Thursday my body was groaning that nine hours of exercise was far too much. Instead a weekend of lassitude provided wonderful compensation to my stiffness.
I did however pick up a book about some or other special forces experience in the middle of the Middle eastern troubles. An experience where death and murder were more common than corn flakes for breakfast. The author was clear on his views that he has been trained to protect every American. Potentially at the cost of anyone else’s life.
It got me to thinking about the divisions we have created in the world. Divisions along the lines of religion, language, culture, and even geography. Why on earth am I more important than you as a result of the space in the world that I inhabit? How many wars have been fought in the world to defend national pride? How many lives lost uselessly for this meaningless pursuit?
If we truly believe that we are created in the image of God, then surely every man is our brother regardless of race, colour, or creed. And if that is the case, then how can we see borders, boundaries, and colours out there?
I thank God that I was never chosen to be a soldier. On the one hand I can see why we need special forces but on the other, their use is a complete and utter breakdown in the values that we pretend to hold dear and true.
It is rather sad that with all of the clever people on this planet, we have not been able to figure out a better way. And in all our wisdom we revert to our national anthems, our clearly demarcated borders, our barbed wire, and our attitudes that this is somebody else’s problem.
Sadly, I am just as much to blame...
I did however pick up a book about some or other special forces experience in the middle of the Middle eastern troubles. An experience where death and murder were more common than corn flakes for breakfast. The author was clear on his views that he has been trained to protect every American. Potentially at the cost of anyone else’s life.
It got me to thinking about the divisions we have created in the world. Divisions along the lines of religion, language, culture, and even geography. Why on earth am I more important than you as a result of the space in the world that I inhabit? How many wars have been fought in the world to defend national pride? How many lives lost uselessly for this meaningless pursuit?
If we truly believe that we are created in the image of God, then surely every man is our brother regardless of race, colour, or creed. And if that is the case, then how can we see borders, boundaries, and colours out there?
I thank God that I was never chosen to be a soldier. On the one hand I can see why we need special forces but on the other, their use is a complete and utter breakdown in the values that we pretend to hold dear and true.
It is rather sad that with all of the clever people on this planet, we have not been able to figure out a better way. And in all our wisdom we revert to our national anthems, our clearly demarcated borders, our barbed wire, and our attitudes that this is somebody else’s problem.
Sadly, I am just as much to blame...
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Keep on walking
I am not sure if I shared my plans to climb Kilimanjaro. If not, I am off to climb Kilimanjaro very soon! It should be incredible, not just the climb and the challenge, but the fact that I get to share all those amazing experiences with my brother.
Theoretically one should train for this great excursion. The best training is of course hiking, and lucky for me, I have a mountain not five minutes drive from my house. Of course having a mountain is far from actually doing anything with it. Somehow my training plan has included all sorts of exercise except hiking, and so this week it is all about the mountain.
On Monday I was on fire. With arms pumping and sweat flying, I climbed the first peak, touched the trig beacon, stopped for three minutes to extract some fruit, and headed back down again. The round trip took me 2 hours and 3 minutes. Not a bad effort at all for a 10km hike with a climb of just over 900m up and down again.
Tuesday found me a little tired after Monday’s effort, but there will be no rest for tired limbs on the big mountain, so I forced myself back. I chose to walk up on the same route that I came down the previous day. It was incredibly tough, and I got to the saddle just below the peak in surprisingly good time. I then changed my plans and decided to climb the Porcupine Buttress, the highest peak in the range. I suspected that it would not be much more difficult that the first peak. I was very wrong!
The path went over the saddle and then started to descend. That was particularly annoying considering I had fought so hard to get that high in the first place. The path took me under some sheer cliffs and above some sheer cliffs and was thoroughly spectacular. Stellenbosch, Table Mountain and the Atlantic Ocean were spread out in front of me. I even passed a fixed camera, which I deduced had been set up to film a potential leopard’s lair. I waved and made the required silly faces, hopefully creating good entertainment for somebody lulled to sleep by boring images of nothing. After hugging the side of the mountain for some time, the trail ended in a rocky stream that trickled down a small mountain valley. Well actually up, because I was somewhere in the middle of it. What followed was a wet splash up an almost vertical rock strewn path on all fours. The path went on forever and then suddenly it was no longer almost vertical but just incredibly steep. Finally I heaved myself onto the top of the valley to the disturbing view of sheer rock cliffs rearing into the heavens. I quickly deduced that my mental calculations of the effort required to mount this mountain had been thoroughly wrong.
Needless to say the path continued with me upon it. It headed improbably towards the cliffs and then tracked an obscure route that went upwards with me once again on all fours. It was agony. I could see the top but it never came any closer, until all of a sudden it did. And then I realised that it was not the top at all, but one of those endless peaks on route to the top of a never ending mountain. From here on though, it was all about boulder hopping, joy to my screaming muscles. At one point, a jump between two rocky outcrops with a big drop between them was required. So right up my alley!
After prancing between boulders like a love sick gazelle forever, another trig beacon materialised in the distance. I pranced until it was just two small peaks away. At the time, it seemed just far enough to rest my shaking legs and suck in the incredible vistas displayed in front of me. Exploring is tough, but sometimes the benefits are incredible!
I left the touching of this trig beacon for another trip and decided to save my remaining strength for the perilous descent. I came very close to pitching myself head first down the mountain on a number of occasions. The descent would have been quick, the recovery absolute hell! I heard my mother though, loud and clear, ‘be careful!’ I was obviously careful enough as I made it down in a whopping 3 hours and 20 minutes. Again not bad for about 12km of hike with a 1100m climb up and down. I have to say that it was tough, which is probably exactly what Kili will be like when I get to climb on her back!
Perhaps tomorrow will find me back out there again...
Theoretically one should train for this great excursion. The best training is of course hiking, and lucky for me, I have a mountain not five minutes drive from my house. Of course having a mountain is far from actually doing anything with it. Somehow my training plan has included all sorts of exercise except hiking, and so this week it is all about the mountain.
On Monday I was on fire. With arms pumping and sweat flying, I climbed the first peak, touched the trig beacon, stopped for three minutes to extract some fruit, and headed back down again. The round trip took me 2 hours and 3 minutes. Not a bad effort at all for a 10km hike with a climb of just over 900m up and down again.
Tuesday found me a little tired after Monday’s effort, but there will be no rest for tired limbs on the big mountain, so I forced myself back. I chose to walk up on the same route that I came down the previous day. It was incredibly tough, and I got to the saddle just below the peak in surprisingly good time. I then changed my plans and decided to climb the Porcupine Buttress, the highest peak in the range. I suspected that it would not be much more difficult that the first peak. I was very wrong!
The path went over the saddle and then started to descend. That was particularly annoying considering I had fought so hard to get that high in the first place. The path took me under some sheer cliffs and above some sheer cliffs and was thoroughly spectacular. Stellenbosch, Table Mountain and the Atlantic Ocean were spread out in front of me. I even passed a fixed camera, which I deduced had been set up to film a potential leopard’s lair. I waved and made the required silly faces, hopefully creating good entertainment for somebody lulled to sleep by boring images of nothing. After hugging the side of the mountain for some time, the trail ended in a rocky stream that trickled down a small mountain valley. Well actually up, because I was somewhere in the middle of it. What followed was a wet splash up an almost vertical rock strewn path on all fours. The path went on forever and then suddenly it was no longer almost vertical but just incredibly steep. Finally I heaved myself onto the top of the valley to the disturbing view of sheer rock cliffs rearing into the heavens. I quickly deduced that my mental calculations of the effort required to mount this mountain had been thoroughly wrong.
Needless to say the path continued with me upon it. It headed improbably towards the cliffs and then tracked an obscure route that went upwards with me once again on all fours. It was agony. I could see the top but it never came any closer, until all of a sudden it did. And then I realised that it was not the top at all, but one of those endless peaks on route to the top of a never ending mountain. From here on though, it was all about boulder hopping, joy to my screaming muscles. At one point, a jump between two rocky outcrops with a big drop between them was required. So right up my alley!
After prancing between boulders like a love sick gazelle forever, another trig beacon materialised in the distance. I pranced until it was just two small peaks away. At the time, it seemed just far enough to rest my shaking legs and suck in the incredible vistas displayed in front of me. Exploring is tough, but sometimes the benefits are incredible!
I left the touching of this trig beacon for another trip and decided to save my remaining strength for the perilous descent. I came very close to pitching myself head first down the mountain on a number of occasions. The descent would have been quick, the recovery absolute hell! I heard my mother though, loud and clear, ‘be careful!’ I was obviously careful enough as I made it down in a whopping 3 hours and 20 minutes. Again not bad for about 12km of hike with a 1100m climb up and down. I have to say that it was tough, which is probably exactly what Kili will be like when I get to climb on her back!
Perhaps tomorrow will find me back out there again...
Monday, September 6, 2010
So Angry
These stories are the way I remember them after a couple of beers on a Friday night after a tough week. They are mostly accurate and the names of all parties have been changed to protect the innocent, or er the not so innocent!
Russell, a really good guy, found himself embroiled in traffic early on that fateful Friday. Needing to change lanes, he indicated and was mildly surprised to see the guy next to him open up a space. Without wasting a moment, he nosed his car into the gap, giving the guy a salute of thanks in the process. When he looked up he realised the car in front of him had stopped and so he hit the brakes and swerved out into the emergency lane just to make sure.
The chap in the car in front of him suddenly went wild. Insults containing enough expletives for an average Tupak song poured out of the window. Russell was not too perturbed by this display of great manners; even when the English fellow in question went on to rubbish all South African drivers. Then this driver did the unthinkable, he flipped the bird! That got Russell moving. For some reason the bird just made him see red. His seatbelt was off in an instant, car door open, and then there he was at the window of the car in front. As luck with have it, the traffic moved forward, as did the window in front of Russel.
That did not stop him jumping in his car and chasing the offending middle finger using English driver for the next five minutes. Luckily for Mr English, a nifty jumping of a red traffic light lost him a red hot pursuer. Who came to his senses wondering what on earth he was doing.
Road rage on a Friday morning, who would have thought?
Then Bob, another awesome mate of mine, related an eerily similar story about his morning. He was standing outside of his factory when he saw a supplier parked across the road at another business. This particular supplier’s service had recently hit rock bottom despite a number of frank conversations. As a result, his services had been replaced by one more able.
Being a good guy, Bob waved at supplier. Supplier flipped the bird. Bob saw red. Bob would have taken the matter further had supplier not been driving away at top speed.
Two birds flipped and two instant rage moments in two incredibly placid mates in just one morning. What are the chances? What is it with the bird that it sparks such violent reactions? Both felt absolutely terrible and so we grabbed our families and went out to dinner to try and make a bad day good.
And I think we succeeded too!
Russell, a really good guy, found himself embroiled in traffic early on that fateful Friday. Needing to change lanes, he indicated and was mildly surprised to see the guy next to him open up a space. Without wasting a moment, he nosed his car into the gap, giving the guy a salute of thanks in the process. When he looked up he realised the car in front of him had stopped and so he hit the brakes and swerved out into the emergency lane just to make sure.
The chap in the car in front of him suddenly went wild. Insults containing enough expletives for an average Tupak song poured out of the window. Russell was not too perturbed by this display of great manners; even when the English fellow in question went on to rubbish all South African drivers. Then this driver did the unthinkable, he flipped the bird! That got Russell moving. For some reason the bird just made him see red. His seatbelt was off in an instant, car door open, and then there he was at the window of the car in front. As luck with have it, the traffic moved forward, as did the window in front of Russel.
That did not stop him jumping in his car and chasing the offending middle finger using English driver for the next five minutes. Luckily for Mr English, a nifty jumping of a red traffic light lost him a red hot pursuer. Who came to his senses wondering what on earth he was doing.
Road rage on a Friday morning, who would have thought?
Then Bob, another awesome mate of mine, related an eerily similar story about his morning. He was standing outside of his factory when he saw a supplier parked across the road at another business. This particular supplier’s service had recently hit rock bottom despite a number of frank conversations. As a result, his services had been replaced by one more able.
Being a good guy, Bob waved at supplier. Supplier flipped the bird. Bob saw red. Bob would have taken the matter further had supplier not been driving away at top speed.
Two birds flipped and two instant rage moments in two incredibly placid mates in just one morning. What are the chances? What is it with the bird that it sparks such violent reactions? Both felt absolutely terrible and so we grabbed our families and went out to dinner to try and make a bad day good.
And I think we succeeded too!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Valueless values
The other night we watched a DVD. Friends had recommended it, saying it was absolutely brilliant.
Theoretically the movie was a comedy about a divorced couple getting back together. Not your usual laughing matter! It was not a great movie at all. Instead in typical Hollywood fashion, it gave its thumbs up to a number of questionable practices.
Even I left my couch feeling that divorce was fine, affairs are cool things, breaking up marriages is spot on if they are not great marriages, and the smoking of marijuana is to be recommended, if not demonstrated to one’s children!
Have I missed the latest memo from society? How on earth can we expect our children to grow into strong, intelligent, useful members of society if we condone issues that rip it apart at the seams! Drugs are drugs; there can be no distinction between soft and hard drugs. That is just drivel made up by people who want to justify their own habits. As is any concept that an affair with a married person is OK. It simply is not!
As is typical of movies, the overall message was loud and clear; anything goes so long as it makes you feel good! Is it not time we got over ourselves and started to realise that we are not the centre of the universe. That by denying ourselves, we may do heaps of good as opposed to simply finding pleasure?
Theoretically the movie was a comedy about a divorced couple getting back together. Not your usual laughing matter! It was not a great movie at all. Instead in typical Hollywood fashion, it gave its thumbs up to a number of questionable practices.
Even I left my couch feeling that divorce was fine, affairs are cool things, breaking up marriages is spot on if they are not great marriages, and the smoking of marijuana is to be recommended, if not demonstrated to one’s children!
Have I missed the latest memo from society? How on earth can we expect our children to grow into strong, intelligent, useful members of society if we condone issues that rip it apart at the seams! Drugs are drugs; there can be no distinction between soft and hard drugs. That is just drivel made up by people who want to justify their own habits. As is any concept that an affair with a married person is OK. It simply is not!
As is typical of movies, the overall message was loud and clear; anything goes so long as it makes you feel good! Is it not time we got over ourselves and started to realise that we are not the centre of the universe. That by denying ourselves, we may do heaps of good as opposed to simply finding pleasure?
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