Oh but you are sneaky Government....sneaky sneaky!!

I wish you could see me now.....I've got one hand on my hip, and with the other I'm waving my index finger at you! To me, you are this 2 year old that is troublesome, and yet oh so lovable....err, okay, maybe scrap that last bit! I normally like sneaky...I do a lot of sneaky stuff myself, but I'm not so sure I'm all that comfortable with you being sneaky.

In his State of the Nation Address on the 10th February 2011 (read here if you are interested... and good luck!), the honourable President Jacob Zuma stated that for every tourist, 16 jobs are created in the country! Having studied and currently working in the industry myself, this immediately caught my attention. (side note: kudos to Gareth Cliff for his drinking game- by the end of the speech, I may have had a bladder full of Sprite zero, but I also had heard the entire speech - for the first time ever!). Where was I? Right...16 jobs for each tourist! 16 jobs!! That on its own strengthened what I already knew - that in a country so rich in diversity, we are sitting on a goldmine; one we aren't digging into enough! But hey, that's a whole song and dance for another day! This got me thinking - 16 jobs for each tourist? But now, how much of this is domestic tourism? Being the ever so inquisitive, or rather, young and curious brain-box that I am, I decided to visit my good old friend google! (side note: have you ever googled 'google'? I did today...silliness!)

According to South African Tourism, in 2009, the total spend on domestic tourism amounted to R22.4 billion...yes, billion! It is said that domestic tourism accounts for 75% of total tourism in South Africa. This being said, foreign tourism still brings in more revenue. And just in case you are wondering, I'm purposely using the 2009 stats....in 2010 we had the soccer world cup, a once off event that saw the numbers go sky high!
You are probably wondering, my sweet young government, why I am calling you sneaky, and feeding you these numbers? Simple really! Last Thursday, a colleague of mine mentioned a story she read about the Home Affairs price hikes. My heart almost fell out of my chest - really, for a second there I could feel it beating in my hand! Getting a passport (and pretty much all other documents) is now going to cost more than double what it used to!!! I thought about this, and I was boggled....double the amount?? But why?? Reading the article, I saw the answer! Apparently, among other baseless reasons, the 'new' passports would come with 'additional security features'. Well, I really hope this passport comes fitted with an alarm system, GPS, and has its own bodyguard, because I swear if my R400 passport gets stolen from or along with my handbag, there is going to be hell to pay!! R400 passport...just saying that sounds absurd! I wonder if insurance companies will cover passports too now? After all, why not capitalise on this ludicrousness?

Putting all of this together, it started to make sense; if domestic tourism contributes so much to our economy, and promoting it is turning out to be a significant failure (I don't ever see people going wild about sho't left - I stand corrected), then why not make it 'the only option'? By putting up barriers and fences, in this instance price, you have managed to make international travel an almost unnecessary expense! Exaggerating much? No, I'm not! Take for an example a family comprising of two parents, and three children - the costs of acquiring passports for all will be the equivalent of a 2 night stay at a fairly decent hotel. Travel outside of the country will now cost an additional R2000, which is probably why they would rather stay and travel within the country!

This is my theory, and I could be wrong! Or, as others already see it, this could just be some sort of money-making scheme to get the rich richer, and the poor poorer! But if my theory is on the mark, then I have to hand it to you....it's brilliant! Restricting people's movement and keeping them where you want for your own gain - really brilliant! It sort of sounds like something the apartheid regime would do (or rather, did....can you say, 'dompass'?) - but hey, to each his own!

Sneaky, under-handed tactics...very very sneaky! Oh my sweet sweet 2 year old...I don't quite like the little monster you are turning into!

And the Khaya Jumped Over the Moon

I'm sorry - I've heard that quite a number of times before (mainly from males, coincidentally)....I'm sorry, I apologise, it was never my intention to.....those are all words from a person normally filled with regret and to express remorse about an action. Normally!
I'm sorry and I apologise in most cases would suffice; and that person's remorse would be expressed enough to spur forgiveness - of course, depending on the action. I guess it's easy to apologise....you don't necessarily have to mean it. This was emphasized when I read this ------> Khaya Dlanga's apology for his tweets during the popular television show on SABC 1, Intersexions.

A little background on Intersexions: Intersexions is a unique episodic drama series with 25 independent but interrelated stand-alone episodes that follow the AIDS infection chain. The series starts with a wedding in a well-to-do suburb North of Johannesburg. The wife, Mandisa, dressing for her wedding, hears on the radio that a well-known DJ is dying of an AIDS-related illness. She freezes. The DJ had been her lover five years before. With this story, we begin our journey through the chain of transmission of the HIV virus.
Fast forward to last night's episode - episode 24, at the funeral of DJ Mo.

A little background on Khaya Dlanga (my take on him): well, I didn't know of him before twitter...but I did pick up on his popularity, and followed him. I found his tweets interesting...giving just the right mix of knowledge and information without being stiff and boring, and throwing in a bit of satire; to sum it up, I found him quite delightful to follow. (for a better understanding on who he is, click here)

Last night while watching Intersexions, I got a bbm from a very upset person which led me to Khaya's twitter timeline. I came across this: 'Or is it based on Dj Monde? That Dj Mo can't be a coincidence. #intersexions'. Clearly questioning if the character on Intersextions, Dj Mo, was based on Dj Monde, who passed away in December 2009. Naturally, fans of Dj Monde cried foul over this tweet. Khaya's subsequent tweet was, 'I think I just dug a grave for myself. Excuse the pun. #intersexions'. For me, that was the final straw...clearly he didn't give a hoot about how his tweets were affecting other people. I jumped on the bandwagon of the select few standing up to him about his tweets. (and the ones who were sending subliminal tweets)

He then vanished from twitter without responding to the tweets from the upset 'tweeps', and returned with the link to his apology! Whew...an apology at least! I read the apology, twice over, and realised that there was a lot of side-stepping.

It starts of with him expressing his own feelings on the matter, 'We have moments of foolishness. I have had more than my fair share of those in my life. I had that moment tonight during an episode of Intersexions'. I respect that, and fully agree with it. It was then followed by what could be seen as a justification; he mentions that he could justify it in three ways (I'm assuming this is his way of saying he wont justify his tweets, while actually justifying them). The one of the three that caught my eye is this, 'There are three ways I could justify myself by saying I didn’t say it because I didn’t actually say what people think I said. Nowhere do I say what I have been accused of saying. Considering the tweets I’d written before it is understandable how people could come to the conclusion that they did'. Nowhere do I say what I have been accused of saying. I replayed that over and over in my mind (and on my twitter page).....nowhere do I say what I am accused of saying. Maybe he's right...he didn't say it, he just asked a question...a question which insinuated something else. On Intersexions, Dj Mo dies of AIDS, or rather, an AIDS-related illness.....and questioning whether the episode is based on Dj Monde seems to be spreading the same idea. Maybe that was not what he meant, but it sure looked like it to me, and possibly to his over 12 000 followers, who went on to retweet it to further hundreds and possibly thousands...the power of one tweet.

This whole thing brought to mind an incident in December 2009 when Gareth Cliff tweeted something disrespectful after the death of Dr Manto Tshabalala-Msimang. Gareth Cliff felt the wrath of many, including Khaya Dlanga, for speaking ill of the dead. So my question is, when does it become alright? When do the rules of the game change? Does it depend on who the speaker is? Does it depend on their social standing, their skin colour...what exactly? As I mentioned, a select few stood up to Khaya.....it leaves me boggled!

Reckless, tactless and insensitive. The apology starts with his justifications, and ends with, 'My apologies to those who will accept the apology, I will extend it to those who will not as well'. In the words of Kimberly Johnson "Never ruin an apology with an excuse".

My thoughts......Its fine, he apologised, I wont say I'm happy with it, but it's an apology....but the question is, are certain people happy with it? I ask this with someone in mind.....who went to bed hurt and upset at her brother's name and memory being desecrated by one mindless tweet.
Pause-----> think before you speak...think before you tweet!

I Would Rather Bleed to Death

The time is 7pm, on the 16th March 2011, four ladies rush into a hospital - one pregnant, feeling pains on her side. One remains behind to fill out the paperwork as the rest rush towards the maternity ward. This almost sounds like one of those happy tales that end with ‘it’s a boy’...but sadly, it isn’t so.

We get to the nurses in the maternity ward who tell her to change into some atrocious I-wouldn’t-be-caught-dead-in gown, and pick a bed, and they tell us that we can leave. Naturally dumbfounded, we just stand there and blankly stare at them. The nurses reiterate that we should leave, and that she is not leaving the hospital until she has had her baby. Pause....no tests, no asking her about the pains she is feeling...absolutely nothing?? They turn their attention back to each other, and continue with their conversation, as if we just wasted thier valuable chatting time. We then mention, seeing as they failed to ask, that she is eight months pregnant, so her leaving after she’s had her baby might be a bit of a stretch of hospital time. Only then does one of the nurses stand up to attend to her, whisking her off to some private room. Upon their return, the nurses send us to the emergency/casualty room to see the doctor! Right! So off we go....searching for this emergency room, seeing as all they did was point towards the door, offering no further assistance or direction.
Arriving at the emergency room, my eye catches a sight that causes my heart to sink – that of a mother carrying her 11 year old son on her back as they are sent from pillar to post in hospital! For a split second I worry about the shortage of resources, thinking that the hospital doesn’t have money for wheelchairs, but then wait, that’s not right...considering the big plasma Samsung televisions mounted on the walls...money certainly cannot be an issue here. As it turns out, wheelchairs they did have, but were seemingly only offered to ‘certain’ patients. When one of the nurses is questioned on this, all she did was look at us, turn around, and flatly ignore us – at that moment, Florence Nightingale must have turned in her grave.

One hour passes...we wait. Two hours pass...we wait. Three hours pass...we wait..and still, no doctor. Patients are growing in number, with our ‘patient’ grimacing in immense pain, and nobody to attend to her. The nurses aren’t of any help either...all they do is tell us to wait for the doctor, along with a lot of other patients. They pick a few and tell them that they will be admitted and spend the night...as for the rest, well, wait! After pacing, twiddling thumbs, sympathising, empathising and even starting conversations with other patients, we call it quits and decide to leave. This decision is spurred on further by another patient speaking from previous experience at the hospital, who nonchalantly says ‘trust me, at this hospital you sit until morning, when the morning doctors arrive’. Looking around, and judging from the casual attitude and behaviour of the nurses, this elusive doctor was nowhere near making his much anticipated appearance. Handing back the file to the nurses (who don’t even bat an eyelid about us leaving), I overhear one of them ask another ‘did the doctor say he’d be back?’. Pause-----> so this was common practise? Pause-----> there was a possibility that all those people would sit there until tomorrow morning, writhing in pain, waiting for a man who took an oath to do no harm? I then recall what one of the nurses in the maternity ward said, ‘you must come early, because the doctors get angry if we call them at night for something that isn’t serious, or an emergency’. Pause-----> the doctors get angry?? Really?? They get angry when called to do their jobs?? Really?? This doctor took an oath, but is as easy to find as Houdini! This doctor took an oath to do no harm....well, I guess he’s done no harm to all these patients waiting for him, afterall, he was nowhere near the hospital.
As for me, I’d rather bleed to death than be taken to Matikwana Hospital.

The Cocktail

If you are hoping to see a recipe including the likes of gin, vodka, rum with a splash of cranberry juice and a touch of mint...then you are looking in the wrong place (though I must admit, that sounds goooood)! Or if you expecting a long story relating how I woke up in a bathtub one morning, with videos of me table-dancing splashed all over youtube all thanks to the above-mentioned drink, yet again you will be disappointed (okay, lemme check youtube...just in case). The cocktail is quite simply...me!

These past few days I've been doing something that I found to be the most fun execise I have done in ages....writing a list! I know, it sounds about as exciting as watching paint dry...but give me a moment here! I wrote a list detailing the things I love - the things I hate - and the things I want. It turned out to be harder than I thought. My first few entries were quite simple.....

I love:
• Tulips
• Lindt chocolate (guilty pleasure)
• Soccer
• Nail-polish
• My blackberry
• Shoes - Christian Louboutins to be precise (a girl can dream)
I hate:
• Spiders
• The ugly brown frog I came across today
• Bad hair-dos
• Spiders
• Spiders
• Spiders

I want:
• Laughter - everyday of my life
• Money - to buy Louboutins...as many as I want!!
• A rich husband - it will make buying my Louboutins soooo much easier! Lol!
• Happiness and Joy - there is a differnce, hmmmkay!
• To graduate again! 2 seconds worth a lifetime!

These are just bits of each section of my list. But then the more I wrote, and the more honest I became with myself...the more difficult it proved to be. It's scary to think how you can be so caught up in the happenings of your daily life that you tend to forget the most important thing...yourself. I for one am guilty of that. I am an ever-changing being...as constant as the petrol prices. My tastes and preferences, my opinions and views, my entire outlook on life changes quite frequently...so much so that I don’t even notice it! Probably because I don’t spend enough time with me.

At the start of the year I intended on making resolutions....I don’t normally do it because I don’t keep them anyway! I never did get around to making those resolutions....so this should be it! Getting to know this complex, erratic, sometimes finicky, constantly giggling, tend to be fickle, silly, passionate being...with beauty both inside and out (yeah...I said it)!

Cocktail: n. A mixture of the good, the bad, and the ugly that make up a being. - The Happiness Factory Dictionary.

Now back to compiling my list...I’m still trying to decide which section olives fall under – one of those ‘acquired tastes’ I’m not too sure I’ve acquired just yet!
***Live , Love.....Laugh!***