"Believe in yourself...

With a recent shock diagnosis of my daughter now having a rare metabolic disorder called Ornithine Transcarbamylase deficiency, the last few weeks have been turned upside down.

In OTC deficiency, the enzyme that starts a specific reaction is missing, and nitrogen accumulates in the bloodstream in the form of ammonia. Ammonia is especially damaging to the nervous system, so this deficiency causes neurological problems as well as eventual damage to the liver.  Since the disease results in the inability to handle large amounts of nitrogen, treatment includes the decrease of protein intake, prevention of excessive body protein breakdown, with the use of medications for scavenging nitrogen (sodium benzoate and sodium phenylbutyrate)  In cases where OTC enzyme production is low, coma and death can occur. In many patients a liver transplant is an option. The fact that my daughter Rachel has only one kidney is also a complication, having a more profound effect on her diet, meaning that we have to lower sodium, phosphate and potassium levels of intake.

Currently the days are engrossed in finding a suitable low-protein diet, with what we always thought to be healthy high protein foods all thrown out of the equation. Upon investigation, one quickly discovers just how few foods there are with zero protein. Just when the worlds health food companies are all promoting high protein energy shakes, everything these days seems to come with the opposite to what we need. Meals consist of eight small starch portions per day, with hardly any vegetables, since vegetables can be a dangerous high source of protein, and plenty of purified water in order to flush her kidney.

                                                                                 

Now with the recent disaster in Japan, debates of radiation are the order of the day. Studies of Chernobyl have proven one definitive fact;  Interaction of ionizing radiation (alpha, beta, gamma and other radiation)with living matter may damage human cells, causing death to some.

Ingestion of food contaminated with radioactive iodine did result in significant doses to the thyroid of inhabitants of the contaminated areas of Belarus, Russia and Ukraine, with levels of ground contamination and milk consumption. Drinking milk from cows that ate contaminated grass immediately after the accident was one of the main reasons for the high doses to the thyroid of children, and why so many children developed thyroid cancer. The thyroid gland is one of the organs most susceptible to cancer by radiation.  It is most likely that a large fraction of thyroid cancers observed to date among those exposed in childhood are attributable to radiation exposure from the accident. The public has been exposed for more than twenty years to both external sources on soil, and via intake of radionuclides in foods, water and air.  It is also expected that the increase in thyroid cancer incidence from Chernobyl will continue for many more years. Contamination in the soil will remain for hundreds of years.

                                                                               

Studies in patients treated with radiotherapy, or occupationally exposed in medicine and the nuclear industry, have shown that ionizing radiation can cause solid cancers and leukaemia. Recent findings also indicate an increased risk of cardiovascular diseases in people exposed to atomic blasts and radiotherapy.

So, when governments and leaders stumble over their words and say it’s all OK, or “all under control”….more than often they are simply clueless, and just buying time.

                                                                                 

"Believe in yourself

And all that you are

Know that there is

Something inside you

That is greater

Than any obstacle"

    "I postpone death by living, by suffering,  by error, by risking,

    by  giving, by losing."

    Anaias Nin  
   

Letter to William A. Burke, Ed.D., Chairman-South Coast Air Quality Management District.

I am just now in receipt of your mass email below.  I looked at the link you sent indicating a radar to detect any Nuclear fallout. In case you didn't know, the last updated Radar reading on your website was from June 2009.  I do not see a link to your site that shows any current continuous radiation detection.   This is why people have their own radiation detecting radars and are smartening up over any government body.

I am taken aback by the context of your email because it is contradictory to the facts.   People do not trust the government.  Our governments never cease to display lack of care, propagandizing in order to profit off any man-created disaster and consequential health maladies and malicious intent on destroying the planet and people.   

When government officials tell us all is "ok", it lulls people into a false sense of security and discourages intelligent preparedness.

People are taking their health into their own hands.  Better safe than sorry because everyone knows there is enough Plutonium, Cesium 137, Strontium 90, MOX fuel and Radioactive Iodine to burn every living cell on the planet, and you send us this atrocious email?  This is adding insult to injury.

The earthquake and subsequent tsunami are natural disasters for this time in history with regard to the alignment of the planets and sun; they have been numerously predicted by the best of geologists in history.  But Nuclear power plants were created by man.  The Nuclear meltdown is already declared worse than Chernobyl.  How can you say everything is ok?

Had Man not created Nuclear power plants, you wouldn't have had to send out your email below.  I also know that the administration, just months ago, asked Congress to provide a $4 billion loan guarantee for two new nuclear reactors to be built and operated on the Gulf Coast of Texas - by TEPCO and local partners. As if the Gulf hasn't suffered enough. I am extremely disgusted with our governments sheer and utter malicious poisoning of our planet and human race.  

Not only are we very concerned of Nuclear fallout from the world class disaster in Japan, but there is one other world issue I have to mention.  We have been incessantly bombarded with CHEMTRAILS since the weekend of Thanksgiving 2010.      CHEMTRAIL grids are seen daily across our skies from horizon to horizon; CHEMTRAILS spraying aluminum and boron nano-particles.  Someone is playing God and spraying the entire planet.

Enough is enough.  I'm knowledgeable in physiological and biological processes.  I happen to know what Aluminum does to all living cells; it literally creates a "plaque" over the dendrites of cells in every living thing on the planet.  Nature, people, plants, animals, insects are being destroyed by CHEMTRAILS.   Bee colonies are dying off in massive amounts (if you didn't know bees pollinate 75% of our agriculture and plant life)   Palm trees are brown and dead, leaning over about to fall dead across the roads.  I have never seen a dead palm tree till today. 

This is totally unacceptable.  Our air quality is hazardous.  The aluminum blanket over our skies will eventually kill people and the planet.  That combined with MOX fuel and Nuclear fallout will create the worst kinds of cancer and illness ever in history. 

There is nothing more toxic than MOX as it emits high-energy alpha radiation with intense ionization power that burns the lungs, skin, unravels DNA and diminishes afferent neuron sensitivity to disable the bodys inner physician. Ionizing radiation consists of electromagnetic waves that detach electrons from atoms or molecules producing intense oxidative stress or free radical pathology. When inhaled, it has a long half-life, staying in the body while emitting alpha radiation. It enters the bones, blood circulation, liver and genitals where it is enriched. The DNA and cell nucleus damage escalates over time as the longer it stays in the body the faster it enriches itself. Scientists and physicians present the facts and the evidence against MOX @ http://www.nirs.org/reactorwatch/mox/puupdat4.txt

I am petitioning you in your role with a Southern California Air Pollution Control District to stop the obvious daily CHEMTRAILS and create a budget to chelate the radiation out of our water and food supply with the abundant use of black Mica extract like Japan used in their agriculture after US dropped atom bombs on them in August of 1945.

If murder is illegal, why is war not?   The government is not immune to acts of murder.  Instead of trying to convince people all is ok, I suggest you collaborate with others in your field of Air Quality to stop the above and start creating Solar energy for our future, add Black Mica Extract to our water reservoirs and stop the CHEMTRAIL spraying.

By Lauren Kattuah.

                                  

Shell 'fracking' our South Africa for fuel...

Our South African Karoo has an area of four hundred thousand square kilometers, a vast inland basin for the past two hundred and fifty million years. This unique and beautiful area, with enormous deposits of underground coal, was to be one of the pillars of the economy of South Africa today. Volcanic activity once took place on a titanic scale. Ancient reptiles and amphibians prospered in the wet forests and their remains have made the Karoo famous amongst paleontologists.

                                                                                

Large herds of antelope, thousands of zebra and large game roamed this region. It is also where the Khoi and Bushmen, the last of the African Stone Age people, wandered far and wide. With the arrival of European settlers, sheep grazing started the huge industry of wool production in this area. This soon became one of the worlds’ largest wool producing regions.

During the nineteenth century, a railway track was built from Cape Town in the south; eventually all the way up through to Bechuanaland and Rhodesia in the north. The impact of this railroad on the history of southern Africa cannot be emphasized enough.

Currently sheep farming is still the economic backbone of the Karoo, with other forms of agriculture established where irrigation is possible. Recently game farms and tourism have made a large economic impact here.

With recent climate change, Southern Africa is having a severe drought, with predictions that we could just run out of water within the next few months. No one has come up with a solution to this. What has happened despite this dilemma is that some money hungry politicians have decided to allow an oil company, Shell, to start the controversial process of mining unconventional gas in the Karoo. This type of mining is called ‘Fracking’, a process of hydraulic fracturing of the earths’ surface using water (which we are already short of).  This ‘fracking process has already been banned in certain USA states.

Shell intends to drill and frack at levels down to 4000m , but at a press conference they would not say what the chemicals pumped into the ground were. According to their presentation, the chemicals were a cocktail of reducers, biocides, corrosion inhibitors, scale inhibitors, surfactants and breakers, which certainly make us and all the Karoo farmers feel just great! So much for their time to address our concerns about our mother earth.

The community shouldn’t worry about water either, they assured us.  Shell would “engage” with the community. Water is the biggest waste product in the process, they said, but if it is recycled and maybe even purified it could be used for human consumption!  “We promise not to compete with the people of the Karoo for their water needs”  they said, a statement of painful ambiguity. We would have to wait and see who would address the water needs of the already thirsty Karoo people.

Shell intends to sink twenty four wells in the area, at a cost of $15 million each!  Of course, we should not worry about the impact the fracking process would have per square kilometer, especially after they assured us that the drilling where the greatest amount of disruption would occur would only take two weeks. Didn’t we just agree it took two hundred and fifty million years to create?

Shell did not stop short of promising unicorns and eternal rainbows.

Oh, and if you, as a Karoo landowner, are still unhappy, then go ahead, sue Shell. The exact quote to a question about why the Dutch royal family are complaining about the fracking process was, “ The sister to the princess of the Netherlands has a democratic right to say ‘no drilling in my backyard’ “.  I personally, along with many farmers, would agree that this government is overdosing on too many bananas and beetroot-curing  AIDS foodstuffs.

Meanwhile our President travels the world, blissfully unconcerned for his native and ancestral land. A man voted into power despite recent charges of rape, corruption and fraud related to the $5 billion weapons acquisition deal. This is a government that is allowing thousands of Somalians to pour across our borders into our once safe land. Perhaps they should just consider scrapping the ‘fracking’ by Shell, and allow the Somali’s who are here already to use the Coega deep water harbour to operate a hijacking  business from. After all, this harbour was designed to accommodate large oil tankers. We could then save the Karoo, have free oil from the hundreds of oil tankers that pass by, and simply create more flights to return the ships’ crew back to their home countries. The airline companies would then also all benefit. That would be job creation without any environmental impact. During the evenings the Somali pirates could play soccer in our now empty world cup soccer stadiums. Our rainbow nation would remain intact instead of fracked !

 "The riches that the earth yield up have become a curse, fuelled by the greedy, to the disadvantage of the poor ..."

On another lighter note….

After having dug to a depth of 10 feet last year, British scientists found traces of copper wire dating  back 200 years and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 150 years ago.

Not to be outdone by the Brit’s, in the weeks that followed, an American archaeologist dug to a depth of 20 feet, and shortly after, a story published in the New York Times: “American archaeologists, finding traces of 250-year-old copper wire, have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network 50 years earlier than the British”.

One week later, The Cape Times, in South Africa reported the following:

“After digging as deep as 30 feet in his backyard in Thabazimbi, South Africa,  Lucky  Simelane, a self taught archaeologist, reported that he found absolutely nothing at all. Lucky has therefore concluded that 250 years ago, Africa had already gone wireless. “

Doesn’t this just make you proud to be from Africa?

eish!

                                                         

The Lion Sleeps Tonight [The Beauty of Africa]

“...A hungry lion was roaming through the jungle looking for something to eat when he came across two men; one was sitting under a tree reading a book while the other was typing away on his typewriter. The lion quickly pounced on the man reading the book and devoured him proving even the king of the jungle knows that readers digest and writers cramp.”

The following you are about to read is in fact a true story.

One Friday, a day the same as any other, was spent side by side with a pride of lions. Males with huge manes and more than a dozen lionesses lay around soaking up the midday African sun. The groups of lions gathered around were more than fifty including cubs. I had personally spent many hours together with these majestic lions, walking with them and often just lying around in the sun with them.

                                                                     

Inside the farmhouse, a friend of mine had just spent the morning in an argument with his girlfriend. By midday, having had enough of this persistent nonsense, he walked out through the back door of the kitchen. On his way out the ever caring native cook, who had heard this constant bickering handed him his favorite meal, a small curry breadloaf. I often wonder what his thoughts were as he sat on the rock just outside the kitchen, eating his favorite food while enjoying the sun, peace and quiet of the African bush…the calm stillness only disturbed by the occasional insect or distant call of a bird. These would be the last conscious thoughts and moments of his life.

Still annoyed at the petty argument which had started the night before, he decided to get to work and busy his mind with more constructive things. Aproximately fifty metres away the groups of lions lay around under the shade of scattered trees. Nothing stirred as he walked among them, on his way to the boundary fence which needed attention. Perhaps it was the female lionesses who were in season a short distance away, or the two males seeking her attention, in addition to his anger from the argument minutes before, no-one will ever know; suddenly without any warning the lions at his side lept and attacked. A swipe from a lions forearm and open claws delivers a blow that can break a human neck, tearing out the throat along with arteries and trachea. The bite to his head tore his face and skull open from forehead to chin. All of this happened within a second. This was no chase, no need for the large cat to stalk or hunt, just a strike and attack at lightning speed. Two or three fast blows accompanied by a thrashing bite from the huge jaws and it’s all over. As he lay in the dust choking and bleeding from the open neck wound, the lions backed off, tugging at his trouser leg, almost as if in confusion as to what they had just done.

The helicopter ambulance eventually arrived and flew to the hospital trauma unit almost fifty kilometers away. Although unconscious from the extensive head injuries, and despite massive blood loss, at this point he was still alive. It would take hours of surgery into the night for a team of surgeons to attempt to close up the head and neck wounds and stabilize him. During the weekend family and friends gathered, waiting for any signs of improvement. There was increased swelling on the brain, and despite all efforts within a few days the surgeons had made the decision to turn off the life support.

The funeral was an emotional service, with the entire community filling the church. Everyone who knew this man came from far and wide to pay their last respects. He was laid to rest not yet fifty years of age. His coffin was draped with a lion skin from an old lion that he had known years before, until it too had died a natural death. As the draped coffin was lowered into the ground to rest in this dry open arid land, a gentle gust of wind blew across the people gathered. The African people who had respected him so much stood and sang an old tribal song.

In the days to follow, every time I would visit his grave, in this dry flat landscape with the mountain in the distance, a warm breeze would suddenly appear stirring up dust around where he lay.

At night the only sound across the plain would be the lions roar calling out, as though in need of an answer or awaiting his return.

“Look deep, deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better”

Albert Einstein

The Earth is man's only friend.


Sean
                                                                                                                                                              

Surviving a gunshot, and a snake bite..not to mention all the rest !

It was a typical dark winters night that I lay awake unable to sleep. My constant companion the lynx, who at this time of night would be fast asleep alongside me, was also wide awake. Continuously jumping off the bed and hissing loudly at the dark open window, where something else was hissing back. After a few hours I swung my legs out of bed and walked through the darkness to the window. As I drew the curtain back the pain and impact of what felt like a gunshot at point blank range went through my right hand. Leaping back and screaming in pain, I ran into the bathroom, where to my horror my punctured hand was swelling by the second. As I clutched it under the cold running water, I saw the two distinctive holes, one having pierced right through the third joint. My hand continued to swell at an alarming rate, and within minutes we were speeding through red lights to a nearby hospital. The swelling at this point had started to travel up the arm to my elbow. Whatever was inside felt like a destructive cutting torch burning through tissue and bone.

                                                                             

The doctor on night duty casually gave me a tetanus injection, stopped the bleeding and bandaged it up, dismissing it he then sent me home. During the next few days through the worst pain I slipped into a state of delirious hallucinations. My neck and face had swollen and started turning blue. Two days later, on an unexpected visit from my sister in law who is a trained theatre nurse, she persuaded me to return back to the same hospital, supposedly our best private one. This time it was midday and the trauma unit responded swiftly. My body had started going into shock, with the venom now absorbing throughout my system. An ultrasound immediately showed a fluid collection along the dorsal surface of my hand. While being hospitalized, a couple of experts from the snake park had arrived, and confirmed their thoughts that it had been a large puffadder.

                                                                                  

During the surgery that followed in the operating room, the surgeon first performed a debridement. The surgeon removed tissue and the open top part of my hand would eventually be closed up, soon after only to cause a haematoma. Infection had set in, and as is often the routine, an amputation of the limb is considered. Bearing in mind that I had been a goldsmith and creative person my entire life, this was the most terrifying thought. Weeks in hospital would be endured on injections of Pethadine, morphine, and anything the sisters could administer, but nothing could help for this type of pain. I was in an orthopaedic ward, together with someone who had just had his hand re-attached, and another who had both his arms torn off in a machine. The nurses called it the pain ward, as the pain medication wore off, everyone would start screaming, and nurses would come running with syringes of whatever would take the edge off. This was where they kept patients ready for repeated surgery. The surgical procedure would be repeated, with weeks turning into months of continuous pain, and most days spent at the hospital having X-rays, scans, and bone density tests. Hours of physiotherapy treatment everyday proved futile. Eventually this particular surgeon suggested that I see a more specialized hand surgeon. (Isn’t that what he should have done in the first place) Apart from the third metacarpal joint being  destroyed, scar tissue had formed along with tendon adhesions. By this time I had acute septic osteomyelitis.

                                                                               

I had gone through everything possible, only to be back at the start again. As I walked into the Plastic Surgeons rooms he recognized me. He had recently performed a re-attachment of an entire hand on someone else who had put his arm through a timber yard saw. This surgeon took one look at me, asked what I’d had for breakfast, and calmly said that he would do the operation within a few hours! He was keen to attempt to repair all the previous damage and trauma. Later that night in hospital I awoke from yet another procedure to repair and reconstruct the fine and delicate structures within the hand.

For many weeks to follow, most Fridays were spent on flights to Johannesburg, more than a thousand kilometers away, where a professor of hand surgery attended to me. There was no option of replacing the joint, as the damaged metacarpal bone would not accept this procedure. Once again there was a suggestion of simply amputating the finger in what is called a ray amputation, removing the finger along with the bone right down to the wrist, then reconstructing the hand. My entire arm was then put into a traction brace, with external wires from each finger in traction down to my elbow...it looked like a bionic arm! This attempt to prevent the joints from fusing again did help to some degree.

                                                                                  

Despite having gone through all the trauma and pain, I was still alive, as well as having both my hands.

This event was reminiscent of many years ago when I had been shot, and bleeding profusely had gone through all the same smells and sounds of Operating Rooms and surgeons.

 Seeing the reality of how life can change within a split second, you then begin to appreciate every single moment that you have survived, and live with more determination.

                                                     One life,  live it now

"A Lynx, a Goat and a Mad Cow...

A lynx, a goat and a mad cow...(just a bit of humour)

Life with a home full of animals can sometimes lead to a loss of ones’ senses and perspective. Running with the bulls in Spain was never my idea of fun, but what now confronted me was a whole different, and gentle approach to the bovine world. So it was with this loose headed emotion and wild abandonment that I decided to give in to the nudge at the front door of yet another pet. This time, in the form of a rather young and amusing species. Thats it…’amusing’ I think is the appropriate term. After all, it was almost two decades ago and I was game for almost anything. This young creature actually had attitude and a hint of intelligence, and in my often self destructive nature I may have been drawn in some twisted challenge to take on yet another responsibility to mother nature. It also did show signs of being useful, or so I believed.

                                                                     

Here in Africa all of my pets and strays had been of indigenous breed, but this particular girl came from English origin, so all the better, why not introduce foreign genes into this menagerie of chaos! Just out of adolescence this creature was already solid in build, and despite being able to communicate in some vague way, she did show early signs of being stubborn and obnoxious. Little did I expect this black haired, brown eyed beast to one day grow into something that would anger the lynx into resorting to fits of rage and even attacking and giving full chase, while the goat would head butt it out of annoyance and frustration. The ducks would take off flapping across the garden pond, and all the cats would flee and seek refuge on the tin roof.

                                                                     

It is no co-incidence that the stress of this marriage ceremony caused the church organist to soon afterward die from a fatal heart attack. May he rest in peace. His recital of Bach's Toccata will always be remembered. Within a matter of months one neighbor sold up and moved, then another, until there was an entire exodus from the area. It is a fact that an entire neighborhood remains to this day as vacant of human life as the lunar surface.

This oversize creature had grown into an argumentative debating force to be reckoned with by day, and a rumbling snoring cacophony at night. Soon she would present symptoms of Hashimoto’s syndrome, with lethargic movement and many hours immobilized on a couch in depths of sleep, with sudden outbursts of bellowing noise when awakened. For years I suspected a hormone problem, but all attempts at persuading such a temperamental and large beast to accept treatment would be an impossible task.

                                                                            

Over the years the shiny black coat of hair became flecked with patches of grey, as this continuously growing monster now demonstrated symptoms of the dreaded Mad Cow disease. Well, at least it wasn’t Ebola, West Nile fever or Leprosy, remember that this after all is Africa.

It was indeed Mad Cow, imported years earlier upon her immigration from an island in the north called Great Britain. The only country in history to have built the largest ship that would sink on its maiden voyage, and the land of little cars with canvas roofs driven under grey skies, rain and fog.

Mad cow disease is an incurable brain disease that affects cattle and some other animals, such as goats and sheep. The medical name for mad cow disease is bovine spongiform encephalopathy. It’s called mad cow disease because it affects a cow’s nervous system, causing a cow to act strangely and lose control of its ability to do normal things, such as walk. Researchers believe that people who eat beef from cows that have this disease are at risk of developing a form of variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.

                                                                       

“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature nor do the children of man as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.

Life is either a daring adventure,  or nothing”

Helen Keller

A Food Blog, are you crazy !

A food blog, are you crazy!…there are millions of cooking blogs, from salads to fusion foods, raw dishes to scrumptious killer cakes and bakes. Just when the entire world is glued to TV programs on cooking contests to the monotonous overweight female chefs in the kitchen rolling out pastries, cakes and vulgar amounts of cream, mumbling along the most uninspiring script as they repeatedly take a swig of wine from the strategically placed glass on the side, the world watches in a mesmerized stupour. This all takes place while we frantically resort to overnight miracle diets in order to reverse exactly what we are watching! What a paradox and ironical situation we have gotten into. A miracle diet, I can share the best hidden secret, six inches of surgical wire and a free plastic straw. Have your jaws wired closed and within eight weeks you’ll be half the size. Now, if you cannot afford this, have your best friend take the hardest possible swing at your relaxed jaw, breaking it at the joint. Apply an ice pack, then proceed to the nearest public hospital where they will wire it closed free of charge.

I could write about tossed salads, steamed vegetables, how to roast anything from a leg of lamb, a pigeon, chicken, guinea fowl or even an ostrich! Waterblometjie stews to Warthog or a dozen types of venison on an outside braai. South Africans have a wide diverse culture of cooking, from our European heritage to Cape Malay and Indian population, not to mention our very own original African native recipes from the beginning of civilization here in Africa. We've been cooking from the back of oxwagons trekking through wildcountry for the last few hundred years. This could go on forever, but with a hundred million starving people at this very moment, I’ll find something more inspiring to do.

                                                                             

The ultimate cooking experience, for body, mind and soul. This requires walking to the kitchen. Take your largest pot available and half fill with boiling water. Then take the half left food from last night and drop it into the pot, as well as the pieces of tomato from yesterdays sandwich, including the old packet of peas in the freezer that are as old as your sisters child. Oh, you may have just found the remains of Wednesday’s pasta, throw that in as well. A remaining piece of broccoli and two ageing carrots in the bottom of the fridge can be added. The last vienna sausage that your spoilt maltese poodle didn't want, drop it in too. While it starts to boil add a teaspoon of salt, a sprinkle of pepper, if you don’t have any, scratch in the draw and find all those little sprinkle sachets from your fast food Macwhatever. While this is simmering away get dressed. Within an hour you’ll be ready for the ultimate culinary and spiritual experience. Wrap the pot in an old dishtowel, and walk to your nearest corner or park down the road. Place the pot carefully on the nearest park bench, and open the lid, allowing the aroma to drift through the open air.

Soon you will be surrounded by a couple of homeless people looking on with hunger and desperation in their eyes. Stand aside and invite them to help themselves. You don’t even need to take cups, because as we all know, anyone living on the street always has the rudimentary mug or tin that they always keep in the event of any opportunity. As you watch this crowd gathering larger, you will notice that their weathered faces change into toothless smiles and contagious laughter.

Within a few minutes your pot will be empty, and you can proceed to take a leisurely walk back home. With the sound of their laughter still in your ears, the fresh air in your lungs, your mind is now releasing the best endorphins. You will have just experienced the ultimate pleasure of giving, as well as having exercised your body without paying a cent toward any ‘looseweightfast.com’ subscription you saw last night on the internet while lying in bed with your laptop which has now become your Siamese twin constantly joined and continuously telling you what to do !

                              “Hunger is the best sauce in the world”

                                                  Cervantes

"Passionately curious...

Following my last page, we wait for news on Henrika, the Dutch lady who was traumatized in Bulgaria and after a week of horror on the street, the latest is that after some rest in Batak with Kerry and Kosta, she is now heading back to Velingrad to see her lawyer. This is happening in an ex-communist country, now part of the EU…which leads me to sit and ponder about many things and just how unpredictable our lives are.

This brings to mind the story of how I came about to own an armoured tank. Yes, a fully functional war machine. South Africa had been engaged for decades in a war against the Soviet backed forces on our borders from Mozambique on the east to Angola on the west. Due to sanctions against our country, (The rest of the world in its ignorance thought it was a racial war) we were left with no option but to invent and build our own weapons. From artillery to tanks, fighter jets and helicopters, and everything needed in war would all become part of the daily manufacture in South Africa.

Toward late 1988, we had spent more than two decades fighting communism, while the rest of the world languished in what they called a “Cold war”. We fought it to the end, until the Soviet Union had realized they were fighting a losing battle.  They had reached Southern Africa, but we were not about to give up and retreat into the sea! After decades of fighting, Castro’s Cuban soldiers went home with their tails between their legs, and the surviving Russians went back to their villages to drown their sorrows in cheap Vodka. Communism had collapsed!

                                                                                                                          

Nelson Mandela was now about to walk free, and most South Africans were on the edge of their seats. Our thousands of army troops had been withdrawn from the border, with huge army and air force bases shut down. It was 1994, and I had just seen an advert for ex-military vehicles being sold. There were armoured personal carriers for sale, all brand new, recently having been rebuilt in the event of things in the country going wrong. Now this new inter-mixed government had no use for them. The military order for all these armoured vehicles had apparently been cancelled, and they were now for sale. Within minutes I was on the phone, the person on the other end told me that they were not allowed to be sold to any private individual. Our weapons were actually going to be sold to north African countries, perhaps so that one day they could come back and attack us with our own guns! We did however get around that red tape by buying it as ‘scrap metal’. A few days later this massive six wheel vehicle arrived on a tank transporter at our front door. While neighbours watched in disbelief, it was unloaded and became a permanent fixture in our driveway, which soon started to sink from the weight!

                      

Soon one day, I noticed a man in the street outside having what appeared to be a seizure. Amidst his shouting, gyrating arms and legs, I could only make out that he was screaming something about the tank parked in our driveway. He was a Brigadier from the Army, here to investigate the where abouts of a stolen tank! The charges brought against me of being in possession of a military vehicle were juggled between the Army and civilian police. The Army had instructed me not to move it, as they were about to return and recover their ‘stolen’ tank. Soon the police Colonel assigned was up to his head in paperwork, and advised me to “make the darn thing disappear”. That night we drove it across town and into a friends workshop, and spent the night spray painting it white. I had known that as long as it was not the army brown, we stood a better chance at proving it to be neutral, as white was the international UN colour.

Eventually with time, the tank became part of our daring jaunts across town. Powered by a twelve cylinder Rolls Royce engine, it would make a deafening noise, as we thundered along the roads through the city, cars would swerve off the road and people would gasp. The police would follow and then not know what to do. It was probably the best time to own this, as the country went through a change with many new laws, and a bit of confusion about most things. At the time, the United Nations had recently been in South West Africa, so white vehicles had been present.

                          

Our tank would guzzle two hundred litres of fuel within a short time, as we tore though the bush at high speed with friends and pets aboard. The high pitched whine of drivetrain and deafening roar of the engine, accompanied by unbearable heat inside the drivers seat, always made it a fun filled adrenalin experience.

This was to be my introduction into the world of finding ex-military helicopters, old fighter jets scattered through Africa,  Alouette helicopters from French Forces and twin rotor Kamov helicopters from Russia. There were many telephone calls to characters in Romania where I discovered more helicopters.  It would eventually lead me onto searching for naval ships and submarines in this world of obsolete equipment and inventions. Everything boiled down to negotiating the price of scrap metal!

This has all been just another part of my journey filled with curiosity through life.

“ I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious. “

                                         Albert Einstein