O P o t B

In my forty six year when I should, as most men my age, been contemplating the next tablet I should be taking or the state of the world and its economy, I decided instead, to do something I have never done before, not even in my youth.  I decided to go on a road trip and what a journey it is turning out to be. Driving through the North West Province I was struck by the lush vegetation that had sprung up as a result of the good rains.  The saturated ground was dotted with water and in the open fields the first signs of the farmers labour was visible as little shoots of maize crept slowly skyward to capture the rays of the sun. People lined the junctions, leading to small towns, in the hope of procuring a ride as taxis, cars and busses, packed to capacity with people, boxes and various other paraphernalia, raced past eagerly transporting their patrons home just in time for the festivities.  Trucks, fully laden, occasionally caused a slowdown in traffic, as they made their final deliv

Coffee, a drink made in heaven, well almost.  Perish the monk who took the devil seed and distilled it to make the first cup of coffee!  Now if he patented the idea, he could have left his goat herd behind and lived a life of complete opulence and excess, not only him but the rest of his offspring for all eternity. Thank God for small mercies, the monk lived in a time where patents were not even invented yet and fortunately or unfortunately,  I am not sure which, monks are celibate. But enough bantering about the origins of coffee and the possibilities of what could have been, coffee is a drink that is close to my heart and, well, the cornerstone of my fluid intake.  Now I have been told that coffee is a diuretic, I am hoping the water in the coffee is enough to compensate for this effect, however somehow I think not, I live in hope. Coffee comes in various forms from fine powdered instant coffees to full bodied roasted coffee beans, which have to be ground and brewed.  There are e

I tried to think of the individual days of Hajj and what I experienced through those days, but all I can pick out were specific events while the rest of the experience escapes me.  For example I remember walking to the tent city of Mina, but I cannot remember what time I donned my Ihraam.  Day 1, entering the tent city of Mina my heart is filled with joy. I have reached the first stage of the journey.  The census states that there are two million pilgrims who are participating in the ritual of Hajj, and for the first time I get the real feel for what it means to be part of this multitude.  A sea of white, moving relentlessly towards its goal, my existence pales into insignificance and I am humbled.  It is the day of rest and I have made the journey on foot.  I locate the camp and tent the group has been assigned to and taking up a foam mattress I lie down.  I spend the day resting, supplicating, praying anxiously waiting for the dawn of the Day of Mercy. Day 2, we have to make our

I wake up early, well before the call to the early morning prayer.  I turn on the shower and discover that I had forgotten to turn the geyser. After a cold shower, I anxiously throw on my clothes, drape my saal over me and make my way to the mosque. The air is crisp and cold. People fill the streets as they make their way to the mosque to secure a place inside.  I make my way through the throngs of people and find a place in the new extension.  After sitting down, I take in my surroundings. The mosque has been extended a number of times. This section has a high roof supported by a number of arches. Columns reach down from the ends of the arches and are planted firmly on a plinth supporting the enormous weight of the roof. Above me is huge dome, which can be opened lest the heat inside the mosque becomes oppressive. Shimmering Brass clothes the columns where they meet the arches and the plinth too. The mosque is filled with pilgrims and there is a murmur in the air as people recite

Packing enough clothes for a ten day stay, I carry the luggage to the bus. A relatively modern bus with air-conditioning and nice comfortable seats. It is an eight hour drive across some five hundred or so kilometers. Taking my place at the back of the bus we make our way out of the city of Mecca. The road we are following is roughly along the path that our Prophet and his trusted companion took, across the baron landscape with rocks, stones and sand for company. The hot sun beating down and the chill of the night as the heat dissipated into the cold dry desert air. The bus chugged along relentlessly wheeling its way towards our destination. Out of nowhere across a rise, a petrol station. An oasis in our midst. We clamber off the bus, the searing heat rising to meet us. A time for relieving ourselves and then to the ablutions before gathering together to pray. A short lunch and we off again. A couple of miles down the road the bus comes to halt. The engine cooling system cannot k

Makkah, more commonly known as Mecca, birthplace of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him), city of the holy mosque and nestled in it's centre the Holy Kaba, house of God Almighty on the face of the earth. Built by Abraham(Ebrahim) and his son Ishmael (Ismail) under instruction from the Almighty. I am here. At the hotel we book into our rooms and rest a bit.  I have been awake for 24 hours now. After settling and resting a bit we gather downstairs with a group of earlier arrivals who take us on our first Umra (mini pilgrimage). Around the corner from the hotel we enter into Khalid bin Walid street. Walking in a group chanting the talbiyah. The air is electric. I become more and more anxious with each step. Finally we reach the white marble which surrounds the mosque, walk up to the nearest door and remove our shoes.  We enter the mosque and are told to look down.  Our guide takes us to the edge of the Mataaf, the inner area of marble that surrounds the Kaabah. Once in po

On disembarking from the plane I am assaulted by the dry heat of the desert. The heat from the asphalt adding to the discomfort as we step a short distance from the plane to  bus. We are whisked away to customs where we take our place in the queue behind the other pilgrims. The air is cool and filled with the pleasant chatter of people anxiously waiting.  Slowly we progress with the rest of our group and eventually it is our turn. Passports are scrutinised and stamped, bags are searched and finally we are instructed to move to an area outside, which is shaded from the overbearing sun by, what can only be described as, a gigantic marquee. Our group gathers together to patiently wait with our luggage for the next leg of the journey.  We have made it we are in the Holy Land.  We pray and then unpacking some food I break bread with our fellow travellers.  A certain magnetism is slowly growing in my heart, a yearning desire to set eyes on the holy mosque and the treasure nestled at its

On arrival at the airport, we find that we have not taken enough passport photos for the entry VISA's required.  At a photo booth in the departure lounge we take photos and bid our last goodbyes to the family that has come to see us off.  We check in our luggage and step through to the security and passport control areas. We are greeted by hundreds of other fortunates.  I establish that the flight we have been booked on has been delayed yet again and in fact some had been at the airport since Thursday, it is Sunday, waiting to depart.  It would seem that the plane has had a number of problems which necessitated grounding.  We are assured that the plane will depart at 10pm, it is now 7pm. I lay claim to an area near the boarding gate and spread my saal on the floor and we sit patiently waiting to board the plane.  The plan is that we fly to Egypt with a four hour lay over before making our way to Jeddah.  Plans have changed, due to the delay, we will fly to Luxor,   refuel and i

It is that time of the year again where those who have been fortunate enough to be chosen as the Almighty's guests get a chance to perform the Hajj or Pilgrimage.  A sense of longing enters my heart and I recall the time I was privileged enough to be amongst the fortunate.  I can recall, as if it was yesterday, the preparations for the journey. In preparation for the journey, I began reading all the books prescribed and some that I had found to better understand the life of the Prophet and also to become more acquainted with the cities of Mecca  and Medina.  For this I ploughed through a number of biographies on the Prophet to get a better understanding of his life and what he had truly accomplished.  While there was a lot of information on the Prophet there was very little information on the history of the ancient city of Mecca.  I wanted more. I attended Hajj classes, given by a doctor who was a family friend.  The classes prepared me for the practical side of the journey and

While at a workshop yesterday I saw an interesting statistic.  The number of searches that were performed on Google in single day was estimated at 3 billion in Feb 2010, and then the question was asked what did we do before Google?  Now while some of you may be thinking, "What! There was a time when Google did not exist?", well I have some news for you, yes there was a time when Google did not exist, in fact there was a time when the internet, as we know it did not exist. Remember the time when we had to do research using encyclopaedias?  What I remember most was the time the encyclopaedia salesman came to try and sell a set of encyclopaedias to my family.  In his grey suit, white shirt and dark tie wielding a set of beautifully bound Encyclopaedia Britannica, all 30+ volumes and the students companion World Books.  He proceeded to explain what an encyclopaedia is, the quality of the pages and the binding.  And then to prove how useful they are he asked me a question. Now

It is easy to forget the promises we make to ourselves.  I was contemplating my future and what I would like to do and I realised that that which I had originally set out to do I had forgotten in light of work and other commitments.  So I have decided to pen a few things that I would like to do, my bucket list if you want. First I would like to visit India all over again, this time as a tourist to experience the country and its people and most of all to visit the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort in new Delhi.  This to pay homage to two of, in my opinion, greatest of Moghal emperors.  Shah Jehan, who left us the Taj as a testament of his love, and Akbar the great, who achieved what few leaders have, a common understanding on religious grounds, thus uniting a nation. Then off to the Far East, Tokyo and Malaysia, to experience Japanese culture and their dedication to the search for perfection.  The vibrant colours and people of the Malaysia, where the fusion of cultures Chinese, Indian and

It has been a long time since I cooked seriously.  Not to say I have not cooked the odd meal here or there, but I was finding it quite difficult to cook for just one person.  In the last few weeks I have been watching Master Chef Australia, especially the master class segments they have once a week, and I have been inspired to cook again. But maybe inspiration is not quite the right word.  For the last few months I have been indulging in a bit of fast food.  I even got to the point, scary thought, where I could tell who made my fried chicken, or  who assembled my burger at the big M.  Well almost.  Like with all cooks and or chefs there are good ones and not so good ones, and in the fast food industry there are good chicken fryers and burger assemblers, and not so good ones. Well I can identify a good one from a bad one. So, to fess up, I am tired of the distinct taste of flavoured cardboard and greasy chicken. So I decided to dawn my apron and cook up a storm in quite the figurati

It is that time of the fasting month.  People are now starting to consider Eid, the festival that signifies the end of fasting.  Like all religious festivals, Eid is a family day. It is a tradition, from the time of the Prophet (P.B.U.H), to wear your best clothes and many will spend hours in the shopping malls.  Family will be visited and hatchets will be buried, albeit for a day, as a sign of respect.  I can remember, in the days of my youth.  Waking up before sunrise, and going to mosque for the early morning prayer.  Coming home to the smells of roast in the oven as my mum was preparing for the mid morning meal.  A cup of warm milk-which has been boiled with sago, almonds and sugar-and something sweet for the mouth.  A little something to symbolise that we are not fasting. Then off to the Eid prayer.  It is traditionally held in an open field, everyone brings their prayer mats and lays them out in rows.  All dressed to their best, in traditional Islamic wear or other, doused in

The month of fasting is upon us again.  And the entire Muslim community undergoes a metamorphosis. Some become more religious, others frequent the mosques, yet others adorn religious garb and generally become more "practising" Muslims, while others go into seclusion to fast and pray. All who observe the fast hope to gain the mercy of the Most High in this world and the hereafter. Fasting is a deep spiritual experience where, from sunrise to sunset, you abstain from food and drink and through this abstinence nourish the soul.  This abstinence from food serves two purposes, it serves as an indicator to others that the fast is being observed and more importantly it serves as a reminder of the other desires that are being denied.  Desires, are like veils that conceal the essence and the true inner beauty of the soul.  By denying the desires, the veils are removed and the true inner beauty of the soul is revealed. For me fasting has changed, from the time in my youth when I ke

To contemplate, To think, To consider,  my significance is absurd. 6 billion souls and more, I would be insolent, I would be arrogant, to even think of myself as significant. Significance... Cannot be bought, Cannot be earned, can only be given by others. To give significance, To those around you, Is the best gift you can give, a gift from the very heart. But the greatest gift, A soul can give, Is to give significance, to Him who holds my life in His hands.... :-)

It occurred to me as I was looking at myself in the mirror, attempting to remove the facial hair that had started establishing its presence during the night, that while we grow older and our hair changes from black to grey, that hopefully we become wiser and more mature so that we are able to deal with life and life's challenges appropriately and live a more fulfilling happy life. I have, in the past few months, met a number  of people.  Some have had a zest for life while others have a rather sceptical view of life.  Others have resigned themselves to the fact that they will never be happy and that happiness is meant for someone else. While others swim along being carried by the tide in total subjection of the situation.  Yet other are motivated and driven to achieve there hearts desires at any cost. And a few, very few, are content and live in the moment experiencing it to its fullest. I thought about the varying ways in which we experience life and I realised that if there i

I have not been writing as regularly as I would have liked to.  I could say that I have a new role in the organisation and that has been taking up my time, or I could say that my hectic social life is consuming my time.  It would be easy enough to assign the blame to one of these factors, but then I would not be accepting responsibility.  The fact of the matter is that I did not make the time or even set aside some time to write.  Now that I have accepted responsibility I can work on it. The year thus far has been extraordinary.  I have been through a divorce and moving house.  Stopped being a slave to the weed, which was my crutch for a long time, witnessed a World Cup,  one of the few who managed to see the third and forth play off  and the final. I have made new friends and new acquaintances.  I have seen my son grow and heard the affection in his voice when he calls "Daddy Mo".  I have expressed my love to the people I care about and they have responded in kind and our

I have often wondered, especially recently, what is it that makes a man? There is an image of a man defined in men's magazine, the athlete, the party animal, the womaniser, the adrenaline junkie and  materially successful.  Women's magazines glorify the lives of celebrities as they move from partner to partner, declaring their independence and their search for happiness in designer wear. A life defined by the clothes that you wear, the car that you drive, the money you splash around and the number of notches you can put on your bedpost.  Devoid and empty in the pursuit of the happiness that has so successfully been depicted in the media around us.  Shaping us, our belief systems, our values and our warping our sense of right and wrong.  Actions that would have been unthinkable a couple of years ago, are the norm and are accepted in the light of being an "open minded human being". We have chosen to ignore the values that have been ingrained in our very DNA, chosen

I have been very lucky.  I have been able to see a couple of matches in the world cup.  And I am probably, one of a few, who has had the privilege of seeing both the 3rd and 4th play off and the final live.  What makes this so special is that a friend and I, drove down to PE on Friday night, and back again on Saturday night, after the match, to be in time for the final. As it turned out, the 3rd and 4th play off, between Germany and Uruguay, was one of the best matches of the tournament.  Each side played their hearts out and scored a total of five goals between them.  And even when Germany scored a third goal in the 82 minute of the match, Uruguay relentlessly pursued to no avail. Of all the stars to appear on the World Cup stage, it was Forlan of Uruguay, who made his mark.  He was pivotal in Uruguay's campaign, and under his captaincy managed to lead the team to the semi finals and then the 3rd and 4th place play off.  It was a privilege to see him score a magnificent goal a

Being on my own again after such a long time has given me a chance to reflect.  It is this opportunity to reflect that has uncovered that which I have kept neatly wrapped and hidden away.  Now that I have removed the barriers and I am more fully engaged with my surroundings, I have reached a deeper understanding of myself.  I enjoy this time alone revelling in my own company and the freedom it brings. I sometimes wonder whether I would ever engage in another relationship, having been disappointed each time.  The more I think about it the more I know I will.  The thing is that while I am not lonely, there are things that I miss. I miss having the pleasure of sharing my experiences with someone special and I miss having someone special sharing their experiences with me.  I love my home, but I miss sharing and caring for someone in it.  I miss the intimacy of a sharing a cup of coffee or snuggling together while watching a movie.  I miss the feeling of closeness.  I miss cooking a meal

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times", the opening line from a Tale of Two Cities epitomises the way I feel at the moment.  Now you may think, judging from most of the material on this blog, that I have just experienced a major life event or that some major incident that is potentially life changing has occurred.  And you may be right.  Like all things, the World Cup is coming to an end.  For just over a month now we have been at the centre stage of the world hosting what is probably the most prestigious sporting event in the world today.  It has been reported that the number of tourists over the period has increased by twenty percent to one million, up by two hundred thousand, compared to the same period as last year.  What makes this different is instead of tourists moving around experiencing the beauty of our country, they are concentrated in the major cities of Johannesburg, which has three stadiums in close proximity, and Cape Town, which is considered

I recently posted a note on my FaceBook page, asking people for topics to write about.  Looking through the suggestions that came through I found one that was very very interesting.  It went something like this "the esoteric meaning of the hole in a doughnut".  At first I thought what a silly thing to write about, but something inside me said maybe not.  Maybe this is not such a silly thing to write about. The interesting thing about a doughnut is that it does have a hole in the middle, however it is not the only familiar item of food with a hole in the middle.  A bagel and macaroni come immediately to mind.  The hole in the middle of these do serve a practical purpose.  In macaroni it is to capture the sauces in which it is cooked.  In the doughnut and the bagel it is to aid the cooking process.  By creating a circle of dough of uniform thickness it ensures that the bagel or doughnut is cooked at the same rate ensuring a perfect product every time. Apart from this practica

Yesterday I saw both the quarter final matches.  In the first one Brazil vs Netherlands, where Brazil one of the favorites was knocked out of the competition.  In the second, Ghana, Africa's hope, was eliminated by Uruguay in a match that ended in penalties.  While both teams lost, they did so in very different ways. In the Brazil vs Netherlands match, Brazil faced with three challenges, their first goal was disallowed, for the first time in the competition they were a goal down and last but not least one of their defenders was sent off, red carded.  Having outplayed the Dutch in the first half, and scoring a goal in the tenth minute, by Robinho, it seemed as though the Dutch were going the way of rest of Brazils contenders.  The Dutch equalizer came from a header by Melo, an own goal from a Dutch corner, injecting confidence and giving hope to the Dutch team.  A second goal, headed in by Sneijder of a corner to put the Dutch ahead, proving that the Brazilians could be beaten. 

Sitting on the couch legs folded beneath me I looked across at my friend as he sipped his coffee in an effort to ward of the chill which filled the air. The weather had been rather severe and I cannot remember when last I felt so cold. We have known each other since we were three, and have remained friends through elementary school and later through high school. We remained in contact even when I left home to make my way through college and he took a gap year, which turned into five, as he made his way from London across Europe to finally end up in India. He looked exactly as I remember him. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul and I saw in his the a contentment that I so longed for.  He seemed to be quite happy to just sit there sipping his coffee at peace with himself and the world. "In my travels I have seen many things" he said, breaking the silence that I was beginning to become accustomed too. "I have met many men, loved many women, played

Although I have been surprised on many occasions in my life, very few have left an impression on me. There are even fewer where i can admit that i have been at a complete loss for words. On Wednesday I was surprised, pleasantly I might add, but to such an extent that I was, for a significant amount of time, at a complete loss for words. A friend of mine, that I had not seen in the last thirty years, and I arranged to meet at Sandton City for a cup of coffee.  Walking through Nelson Mandela Square, i could not help but notice, that all the restaurants were filled with tourists from all over the globe who had come to our beautiful country to share in the World Cup experience.  The chatter of people in various tongues contributed to the cosmopolitan atmosphere that prevailed in the square. We made our way to a coffee shop and proceeded to catch up on the last thirty years.  It was fascinating listening and chatting about how our lives had turned out.  It occurred to me at that moment

Sometimes I seem, even to myself, over bearing.  It was not always like this, and I can remember a time when I was fairly detached from people and preferred the company of my computer. I recent months all that changed.  As I discover more and more about myself, I find that I am quite sympathetic and empathetic and I have discovered the joys of being with people.  One thing that saddens me at times, is that I never developed social skills to the level I would have liked too.  These skills are normally developed early in youth and shaped through the teenage years.  Being an Indian, and born into a family that had a business, I was denied the chance to interact socially in my teens.  So while my friends were busy being teenagers, building friendships and developing vital social skills,  I was standing behind a shop counter with little or no social stimulation besides having to deal with odd irate customer. So I find myself in the odd and often curious situation of becomin

I have been a father for over 24 years.  Having married for the first time at a very young age, I fathered three children, two boys and a girl and in my second marriage one boy.  Having grown up for most of my young life as a single child, my sister was born when I was fourteen, I always dreamed of having more children and somehow the number six came to mind.  By the time my fourth child was born, I realised that as a father, I had to change. Unlike animals, where instinct drives the role of the parents in the offspring's life, for human beings things are different.  It is said in the scriptures, that the love and bond a parent has for a child is a gift from the Almighty.  While this is true for all human beings, circumstance, society, social norms, opinion and the example of our own parents can stunt or even block out this gift.  Unfortunately, while the gift is very real, as human beings we have been given the choice to accept or reject this gift. For parenting, there is no m

As I walk-exploring the new landscape I find myself in-easel, canvas, brushes and paints under my arm, I can see in the near distance a fork in my path.  On the left, the colour texture and surface looks familiar and promises to offer me an experience that is new yet familiar.  The fork on the right looks completely different and the changes in colour and texture.  It changes and transforms to that which is unknown and promises a completely new experience. The familiar path stretches forth to the horizon, the unfamiliar one rises sharply, and secretly conceals itself from my view.  I reach the fork, set down my easel and dip my brush into the paint.  Red for the risks I need to take and I apply it to my canvas.   I contemplate my masterpiece, while waiting for the paint to dry. Blue for love and the peace and tranquility it brings to my being, orange for the warmth that is generated from the core of my being, white for the spaces between that are essential to life and red for the r

We have a chance!  We definitely have a chance of making it to the next round in the Word Cup.  This is so exciting.  After watching the match between France and Mexico last night and I know we have a chance.   For those of you who are not in the know, I have done a bit of research to determine if it is possible for us to make it to the next round.      According to the rules of the tournament, the the first and second placed teams, in each group, proceed to the next round.  Determining who those teams are is bit more complicated then just looking at the points.  To understand this, let us look at how the score card works.  When a match is played, the score card is updated as follows: 3 points are awarded for a win, 1 point for a draw and 0 points for a loss Goals for and against are tallied and updated on the score card At the end of the group matches, the first and second placed teams are determined by the following criteria: The goal difference in all group matches Number of

"What happened tonight?", was the thought that entered my mind and I am sure the minds of all South African supporters who watched the match.  The fact of the matter is, if you think about it and you do not have to be a football buff to see it, we were outplayed.  We were completely dominated by a team that came with a plan, something we seemed to have lacked, and by a player, Forlan, who seemed to have orchestrated our defeat.  I think, that while it may look that way, it certainly is not.  The team played the exact game that they played when we played Mexico and because of this we were easily dominated by the team that could exploit the weakness in our game plan.  Was the money we spent on the coach, in the hope that we could build a world class team, an exercise in futility? Or did we just learn a very expensive lesson? My opinion is that we learned a very expensive lesson and it is not whether or not the coach is competent.  He has the credentials that prove he is com

World Cup fever has gripped the nation and I have not been unaffected.  Having favored Brazil from a very young age after seeing Pele in the film documentary "Giants of Brazil".  I do not follow football, or soccer as it is more commonly known in SA, when it comes to the FIFA World Cup, I make an attempt to watch as many games as I can.  The truth be told that I have no idea who all the players are, well not quite, I know a few but hardly enough to count on one hand.  Now the die hard soccer fan may frown at this but I believe I have a distinct advantage.  Firstly not knowing the players, I can discover the talents that each of the countries bring to the tournament.  Since I do not know the players, any player that displays a reasonable amount of skill gets my admiration.  When watching a game I get excited if either of the teams make an attempt at goal or score a goal.  I am able to stand apart and appreciate the sheer beauty and brilliance of the players on the field. T

I have invested in an HD PVR in order to enjoy the great detail offered by HD TV and I am not disappointed.  The three, or should I say four channels offered on HD provide better picture quality and sound.  I do have two gripes however.  Both with the live broadcasts of the matches on the HD channel.  The first one is the sound on the live broadcasts.  I have the HD pvr connected to my surround sound system and in order to hear the commentary and enjoy the sounds of the stadium I have to turn up the volume significantly.  Obviously the sound levels on the commercials seem to be much higher, and I have almost blown my eardrums when they switch over to a commercial.  This is a cause for extreme frustration.  I assume that the service providers have invested a significant amount of money in broadcasting equipment and I cannot believe that they cannot adjust the sound levels that they match those of the commercials. Now the next one is more serious.  The time and scoreboard graphic on

Yesterday I woke to the sound of vuvuzelas being blown.  Driving to the supermarket, the road was lined with vendors peddling flags, in all sizes, of the participating nations.  Blowing on their vuvuzela's to attract attention and to tempt potential customers into buying the flags.  The atmosphere was electric as the nation waited in anticipation for the start of the greatest sporting event in the world, the 2010 FIFA World Cup. The stadium at Soccer City opened its gates at 10am, and by 12pm, each major city in the country was gridlocked as thousands of fans made their way to the stadium or to one of the many fan parks that dotted the country.  A sea of yellow and green displaying their support for the nations team, Bafana Bafana, who would do battle with Mexico in South Africa's premier football stadium. Just under 100 000 people gathered together at the stadium, while thousands more gathered at the fan parks and billions switched their tv's to bear witness to Africa&

I was reading the blog of a friend of mine where she describes various places in Cape Town where you can find Halaal food. And I thought to myself why not present the culinary delights of Fordsburg in the same vein.  So I decided to take the liberty of describing my experience with a restaurant, which shall remain anonymous, to protect the innocent people involved. Sunday afternoon, I decided that I would try some food from the Mecca of Indian foods in Johannesburg, Fordsburg.  Driving from my house, which is located in an upper middle class area, one cannot fail to notice the change in scenery as you approach Fordsburg.  An area that has always been part of the Indian community for as long as I can remember.  Traditionally the South African Indian community was not one that ate out.  This has changed in recent years, and the stores that once were the main attraction of the area, have now been replaced by a plethora of restaurants selling Indian cuisine.  This change was triggered of

The excitement is building.  We are on the brink of hosting the most spectacular event in the sporting calendar, the 2010 FIFA World Cup.  As the hours tick by bringing us closer to I contemplate my life thus far. If a couple of months ago someone had told me that my life would undergo a change that is comparable to staging a World Cup, I would not have believed them.  2010 thus has significant meaning for me other than just witnessing the FIFA World Cup.  It is the year of unprecedented growth for me and through it all I am discovering the real me. It is indeed true that we only grow when we face a life changing challenge.  But it all starts when we ask the question, "is this what it is all about?", and we feel a certain amount of emptiness and lack of contentment.  What then follows usually, is some event which pushes us over the edge and we then have a choice, take a view of the world tainted by our perception, or face the reality of the situation.  I chose reality.

The new house is warm and cozy.  It feels familiar and an expression of my own individuality.  At first I was skeptical that I would ever get use to the place, but now even after a day it feels wholly familiar.  The memories that I thought I would be retaining have faded and been replaced by a certain contentment that I feel.  I finally have a space in the universe that I can truly call my own, even if only for the blink of an eye. This is a place I can fully express myself, something until now, I never knew how importance of.   In the past, my expression would be scattered and littered amongst the expression of others, a shelf here a cabinet there, but to have a space to entirely contain my own expression of self is truly bliss. The personalization of space seems to be something that every human being requires.  Even in the open plan areas at work I have noticed how many have stuck photographs, added fairies or pictures that their kids have drawn to their areas to demarcate their

Packaging tape to wrap up the memories I want to keep.  Boxes to hold the pieces that constitute, what was once my home, to be taken to rebuild a new one.  Foundation pieces reflecting that which I have become.  Memories drop like leaves from a tree strewn across the floors of the house as I prepare for a new start. The house I leave is a facade, concealing all the flaws and inadequacies of its construction.   A message from the universe?  Is it a reflection of my life thus far?  From the outside all nice and happy concealing the hurt and heartache underneath.  I wonder? What of my new home? A quaint two bedroom cottage, kitchen that has been refurnished with new cupboards, bathrooms that have been tiled over and everything in its place. A small patch of nature in the form of a pristine garden complete with water feature and jacuzzi.  Everything that I have always wanted in a house. Is this a symbol that I have discovered who I am?  The facades and masks removed the true me.  I won

"I never knew you were like this", is a comment I often hear - from those who have known me for some time- after reading my blog.  At first I was surprised, but after a time I realised that they may be right. When I was thinking about it, the movie "The Mask" came to mind.  Like the main character in the movie, Stanley played by Jim Carrie who had a mask that transformed him both physically and psychologically, we to have masks that transform us. I have discovered that I used to own a whole hoard of masks, one for every occasion.  Wearing a mask allowed me to belong and provided the context when dealing with people and situations, but most of all it protected the core of my being from being exposed.  One disadvantage though I must admit, is like a real mask, where the view of the world is limited, this mask had the same effect with one little twist.  My perception of the world was shaped by the mask that I was wearing. I discovered that there were at least fou

Working in the corporate world can be quite a challenge as people try to impress and make a name for themselves.  Political games are abound an many seek out likely allies, that they believe will further their careers, or even subscribe to ideals, that they do not even believe in, in order to align themselves.  Yet others become spineless and move with the flow hoping they can avoid any fallout by saying the "right" things. And yet others go into survival mode and ensure their survival at the cost of those around them for that of the organisation.  All this in pursuit of perceived fame and fortune. But all is not as gloomy as it sounds.  Here and there, there are pockets of sanity were those that are in charge understand that, ultimately, they are there to serve the organisation and make sure that the thousands that it provides jobs to are the reason for there existence. That their responsibility extends beyond that of the little turf that they are custodians of.  It is the

I never knew I could love an animal as I love my cat.  Over the years I have had many pets, dogs, cats, birds and i even once had a chameleon as a pet.  But never in all these years have I loved an animal as much as I love Jojo.   As I have mentioned in a previous post "Curious about Jojo", I acquired Jojo under very special circumstances.  It was as if though Jojo was made especially for me.  Jojo is a Devon Rexx and has some very distinctive features.  As with all Devon Rexx's, he has no fur on his belly.  His head seems rather small and his ears a bit too large.  His eyes seem to protrude from his head and the shape of his mouth and nose ends abruptly giving him a rather alien look.  His neck has very fine short fur and the pink of his skin is visible.  The rest of his body is covered in white fur with chocolate coloured markings that resemble those on a jersey cow.  A chocolate patch runs across one eye and it seems as though he wears a mask.  While he has whiskers,