During the course of my e-waste collections yesterday, I did something I have never done before. I went to Nyanga.
Now you'd think as a local who has lived in this area since 1984, and with South Africa's apartheid days far behind us, I might have ventured into a part of the biggest township area here well before this. But no, I haven't. I've driven past it and Khayelitsha and Langa and Crossroads many many times - but never gone in.
Back in the day being a white chick travelling in a black township would have been extremely dangerous. More so when towing a trailer full of old computer equipment - ripe for the picking. Or thus we've been made to believe.
So it was with a little trepidation that I headed into Nyanga, all these past fears broiling away at the back of my mind.
And stepped into a completely different world, just off the main highway.
It's pedestrian central - those who do have cars or taxis drive with little regard for road rules, everyone else walks. And there are people everywhere. I don't know if it's the high rate of unemployment or merely the fact that every second shack, building or shipping container is a cellphone shop, spaza shop, hairdresser, DSTV/TV repair shop or other small business, but there are crowds of people everywhere. And dogs - many in terrible state, but some well looked after.
Stalls line the roads selling fruit and vegetables, sweets and smokes.
And then there are the meat markets... My son (who has grown up vegetarian and still won't even give the dog a bone) had big eyes when he saw what's being sold everywhere. I have to admit, so did I. Fresh meat indeed. Some of which I certainly couldn't identify. Bits of various animals, including the parts you wouldn't find in your average suburban supermarket. Cow heads, sheep lungs, there's nothing wasted. And most meat markets have a half-drum braai going, cooking and selling what's available on the table in raw format. (Images from another visitor here)
There are no street signs - no street names. Traffic lights aren't where they're supposed to be, making navigating the maze using a map book more than a little interesting. We took a wild guess and actually ended up where we needed to be, though it required a few turns to get into the right side street with the trailer. And in spite of my ingrown fears, no-one came rushing up to empty the trailer of its loot while I was hauling out the next load of e-waste from the local library.
However, I'm a fixer. I was amazed at just how much rubbish is lying around everywhere - I want to go in an clean it up, plant veggie gardens in the blank spots, feed the skinny dogs and give the happy wavey kids a draft-free leak-free place to live. I can see how organizations can delve deeply into helping the community - there's one in particular we've supported in the past that looks after the pets and work animals, which is sorely needed.
The library was a huge contrast to the seething masses of humanity, noise and poverty outside. Calm, quiet, well-organized, with a computer-equipped study room - and a lot of people taking advantage of their services. That was truly great to find.
So yes, I survived a trip to Nyanga. I got to see where may of our domestic workers, low-paid labourers, walk-to-school kids and wait-for-work-at-the-lights guys live. I saw some of the challenges they face every day. I had a small insight into how the community works and lives and plays.
And my inbred fear of driving through a township has gone.
Showing posts with label south africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label south africa. Show all posts
Backyard Tourist
I spend most days rushing madly around in the persuit of those pieces of paper that get exchanged for food and lodging. But now and then I'm made to stop, slow down and wait.
Recently I was stuck in Woodstock, not my usual stomping ground - awaiting news on whether to move back out into traffic with the trailer to find another location, or turn and head home. And I've made an executive decision. I need to get back there with a camera and a full day in hand to wander those streets and take photos.
Have you ever taken a good hard look at the people and places around you? In a place like Woodstock there are fascinating views at every turn. From out-of-business and boarded up buildings, to those with a fresh coat of paint. From the bergie heaving a trolley load of old metal to the nearest scrap dealer, to the tannie directing an antique from the back of a bakkie into her shop. People of every colour and age, fashion sense and fashion disasters. The trendy and the threadbare.
Take a trip through Maitland and you'll see just as many interesting things.
Or stop off in Muizenberg. Or Athlone. Parow. Paarl. Strand (where there's a complex of old buildings and factories nearby that are soon to be demolished to make way for new office "squatter camps").
Beyond the man-made stuff, very often we take our natural surroundings for granted. Favourite Man and I were discussing recently how immune we become to views like this right in our back yard.
Head down, we go about our business on familiar streets - seldom taking time to really look around us.
There are those who pay thousands and come from the other end of the planet to see things we live with every day. We pay thousands to go see what they live with every day....
But now and then it's a good idea to become a backyard tourist. To go experience this (and no, they don't fire it from the TOP of Signal Hill!):
To travel with a camera in case you come across something unexpected.
Or to simply take a day off, grab your camera and go get locally lost.
Recently I was stuck in Woodstock, not my usual stomping ground - awaiting news on whether to move back out into traffic with the trailer to find another location, or turn and head home. And I've made an executive decision. I need to get back there with a camera and a full day in hand to wander those streets and take photos.
Have you ever taken a good hard look at the people and places around you? In a place like Woodstock there are fascinating views at every turn. From out-of-business and boarded up buildings, to those with a fresh coat of paint. From the bergie heaving a trolley load of old metal to the nearest scrap dealer, to the tannie directing an antique from the back of a bakkie into her shop. People of every colour and age, fashion sense and fashion disasters. The trendy and the threadbare.
Take a trip through Maitland and you'll see just as many interesting things.
Or stop off in Muizenberg. Or Athlone. Parow. Paarl. Strand (where there's a complex of old buildings and factories nearby that are soon to be demolished to make way for new office "squatter camps").
Beyond the man-made stuff, very often we take our natural surroundings for granted. Favourite Man and I were discussing recently how immune we become to views like this right in our back yard.
Head down, we go about our business on familiar streets - seldom taking time to really look around us.
There are those who pay thousands and come from the other end of the planet to see things we live with every day. We pay thousands to go see what they live with every day....
But now and then it's a good idea to become a backyard tourist. To go experience this (and no, they don't fire it from the TOP of Signal Hill!):
To travel with a camera in case you come across something unexpected.
Or to simply take a day off, grab your camera and go get locally lost.
Photoblog: Community Upliftment
...or it would if The Community hadn't stolen the solar panels..!
Classic.
Photoblog: Early Morning Harbour
Taken by my son on a VERY early trip to Cape Town yesterday morning.
Late night escapades
Wednesday is dustbin day in our area, and it's my son's job to take our bin down to the pick-up area on Tuesday night. Inevitably he leaves this as late as possible unless prodded. This week we managed to get him off on his duty by 10... only to have him come running back with tales of a small snake he'd seen on the road, that hissed at him when he tried to get close!
Now Favourite Man knows snakes and has handled a good few large and dangerous types in his days, so off we all trouped to go see what it was.
And found this.
Definitely a snake, and apparently a juvenile Cape Cobra! Well Favourite Man had an appropriate stick and it was quickly decided this little character needed to be relocated to a safer place. Neighbours were marching up and down with bins, and most were not quite as fond of legless slitheries as the three of us are! So he coaxed snake onto stick while I ran for a bottle to house it temporarily. During the coaxing process little snakey spat out a decent amount of venom - as small as he is, he's still a Cape Cobra, and fiesty!
Back with the bottle, we finally got snake safely on the other side of glass and wacked on the lid.
He's truly a beautiful creature!
But what to do with him? Over the wall of the complex? Too close to roads, random passers-by and a train line. We marched down instead to a neighbour who works at the nature reserve, hoping to get her to release him on the morrow - but she was already tucked up in bed and fast asleep.
Only one thing for it. We hopped in the Landy and drove up the hill to a wild place, near a dam, with long grass and natural vegetation - a good place for little snakes to find food and water and learn their place in the world. Carefully let him out and within seconds he was gone to his new environment.
I hope he grows up to be a nice big snake. Much better than being smacked over the head by a clueless human in a cement-and-brick housing development.
Of course, little snakes come in batches - we're keeping an eye out in case his brothers and sisters make an appearance.
Now Favourite Man knows snakes and has handled a good few large and dangerous types in his days, so off we all trouped to go see what it was.
And found this.
Definitely a snake, and apparently a juvenile Cape Cobra! Well Favourite Man had an appropriate stick and it was quickly decided this little character needed to be relocated to a safer place. Neighbours were marching up and down with bins, and most were not quite as fond of legless slitheries as the three of us are! So he coaxed snake onto stick while I ran for a bottle to house it temporarily. During the coaxing process little snakey spat out a decent amount of venom - as small as he is, he's still a Cape Cobra, and fiesty!
Back with the bottle, we finally got snake safely on the other side of glass and wacked on the lid.
He's truly a beautiful creature!
But what to do with him? Over the wall of the complex? Too close to roads, random passers-by and a train line. We marched down instead to a neighbour who works at the nature reserve, hoping to get her to release him on the morrow - but she was already tucked up in bed and fast asleep.
Only one thing for it. We hopped in the Landy and drove up the hill to a wild place, near a dam, with long grass and natural vegetation - a good place for little snakes to find food and water and learn their place in the world. Carefully let him out and within seconds he was gone to his new environment.
I hope he grows up to be a nice big snake. Much better than being smacked over the head by a clueless human in a cement-and-brick housing development.
Of course, little snakes come in batches - we're keeping an eye out in case his brothers and sisters make an appearance.
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Chinese R&D
The middle of Somerset West is overrun with them - cheap Chinese/Korean-owned shops selling exactly the same low-price, low-quality goods all the way up the main road. They've taken over the annual Strawberry Festival: where it used to be loads of local hand-made and interesting things, it's now row after row of plastic mass-produced junk.
Walking past one of those shops today I had to wonder - who does their R&D for the Western market... and how? How do they decide what us shoppers want, and come to the conclusion that a plastic shopper bag with rainbows and eagles will actually SELL here? Or garish nailpolish that wears off quicker than you can put it on? Or certain clothes, shoes and underwear? Who decides what slogan to slap on a t-shirt, and how "gansta" to make a jacket?
I'd love to know. Along with "is there any melamine in that mascara I just bought?"!
Walking past one of those shops today I had to wonder - who does their R&D for the Western market... and how? How do they decide what us shoppers want, and come to the conclusion that a plastic shopper bag with rainbows and eagles will actually SELL here? Or garish nailpolish that wears off quicker than you can put it on? Or certain clothes, shoes and underwear? Who decides what slogan to slap on a t-shirt, and how "gansta" to make a jacket?
I'd love to know. Along with "is there any melamine in that mascara I just bought?"!
Got SARS?
This is the first year that I've actually had to submit a tax return to SARS (South African Revenue Service, not the disease - though I'm starting to wonder). I've duly applied for and received a tax number and the pre-printed, pre-populated forms.
Except there's a problem. There are mistakes in two sections.
The accompanying manual says "our electronic systems get all confused if you write outside the boxes or if you cross things out or if you use correcting fluid, so don't". How the heck does one go about correcting info then? No clue online or in the booklet they sent.
I decided it would be best to attempt the e-Filing system online and change it there. Duly registered for that, and get the "we've already sent you forms so don't ask again" message. Great.
So last resort - call centre. Tried the toll-free number, couldn't get through for an hour. Finally reached their "press 1" service, and listened to everything, then made my selection. Got to the right section, keyed in the right number..... BLANK. Then disconnect.
So tried another number listed on the forms. Got through to the same chick's voice asking me to dial this and that - did everything right on my side, keyed in the final number to speak to someone live.... BLANK. Disconnect. Same blerry story.
I'm now duly pissed off. About to throw hands in air. Leave those details as is (though apparently there are "consequences" for providing "false information" - even if it's a typo their end).
I dunno. Should I turn up at their office and strangle someone instead? It's probably going to be a lot more effective.
Except there's a problem. There are mistakes in two sections.
The accompanying manual says "our electronic systems get all confused if you write outside the boxes or if you cross things out or if you use correcting fluid, so don't". How the heck does one go about correcting info then? No clue online or in the booklet they sent.
I decided it would be best to attempt the e-Filing system online and change it there. Duly registered for that, and get the "we've already sent you forms so don't ask again" message. Great.
So last resort - call centre. Tried the toll-free number, couldn't get through for an hour. Finally reached their "press 1" service, and listened to everything, then made my selection. Got to the right section, keyed in the right number..... BLANK. Then disconnect.
So tried another number listed on the forms. Got through to the same chick's voice asking me to dial this and that - did everything right on my side, keyed in the final number to speak to someone live.... BLANK. Disconnect. Same blerry story.
I'm now duly pissed off. About to throw hands in air. Leave those details as is (though apparently there are "consequences" for providing "false information" - even if it's a typo their end).
I dunno. Should I turn up at their office and strangle someone instead? It's probably going to be a lot more effective.
Power to the people
I had a quick chat to our office cleaning lady today while the coffee was brewing. On the big screen was Obama's face, as it has been for the past day or so on every channel. And we got talking about presidents.
Miriam is scared - the elections in South Africa are coming up next year and the majority favourite seems to be Jacob Zuma. Zuma is a Zulu - he has a strong tribal support base among the Zulu people. A support base which is vocal and threatening and intimidating to many other tribes.
Such as Miriam's. She's Xhosa. There's no love lost between Xhosa and Zulu from time immemorial. They've fought each other and killed each other - and although South Africa preaches democracy / equality for all, it's against a rivalry bred through hundreds of years into the very fibre of our people.
So Miriam is scared. If Zuma becomes the president she can see only trouble ahead. She says that Zulu people do not like it if women choose to not have a boyfriend, not marry, not have children. That they'd rather kill you - and they will for not conforming. She has chosen to be single, not marry, not have children - she lives happily alone.
She fears for her life.
If you don't live with this attitude every single day, if you aren't deeply ingrained in the cultures at war, this may seem completely ridiculous. It doesn't make sense, it's too way-out to be believed. And yet it's true - it's a small-scale genocide that carries on unnoticed across tribes across the world. Eliminate those not in your group and you have greater power, more resources, more land.
Favourite Man has commented on this way of life when it comes to trying to make democracy work in a European way for Africa - it's simply not an easy option, sometimes not an option at all. Africa is used to fighting the top guy for the job, killing him and his family, and then sitting down in his kraal with the loot. It's not used to free and fair voting, a lack of intimidation, a chance for the majority to say what they want to say, and stepping down peacefully when they say you're done.
Take Zimbabwe as a case in point. A couple of elections have come and gone - nothing's changed. Those in power ensure they stay there by rooting out, killing and getting rid of any opposition. It's the old tribal conflicts in suits. And perhaps that may never change. Africa is ancient, its traditions and ways buried in its DNA. You cannot change DNA.
But it leaves the power struggle a dangerous place to be. For Miriam and millions like her. We're in a place of political upheaval. Change. I hope we survive it - all of us.
Miriam is scared - the elections in South Africa are coming up next year and the majority favourite seems to be Jacob Zuma. Zuma is a Zulu - he has a strong tribal support base among the Zulu people. A support base which is vocal and threatening and intimidating to many other tribes.
Such as Miriam's. She's Xhosa. There's no love lost between Xhosa and Zulu from time immemorial. They've fought each other and killed each other - and although South Africa preaches democracy / equality for all, it's against a rivalry bred through hundreds of years into the very fibre of our people.
So Miriam is scared. If Zuma becomes the president she can see only trouble ahead. She says that Zulu people do not like it if women choose to not have a boyfriend, not marry, not have children. That they'd rather kill you - and they will for not conforming. She has chosen to be single, not marry, not have children - she lives happily alone.
She fears for her life.
If you don't live with this attitude every single day, if you aren't deeply ingrained in the cultures at war, this may seem completely ridiculous. It doesn't make sense, it's too way-out to be believed. And yet it's true - it's a small-scale genocide that carries on unnoticed across tribes across the world. Eliminate those not in your group and you have greater power, more resources, more land.
Favourite Man has commented on this way of life when it comes to trying to make democracy work in a European way for Africa - it's simply not an easy option, sometimes not an option at all. Africa is used to fighting the top guy for the job, killing him and his family, and then sitting down in his kraal with the loot. It's not used to free and fair voting, a lack of intimidation, a chance for the majority to say what they want to say, and stepping down peacefully when they say you're done.
Take Zimbabwe as a case in point. A couple of elections have come and gone - nothing's changed. Those in power ensure they stay there by rooting out, killing and getting rid of any opposition. It's the old tribal conflicts in suits. And perhaps that may never change. Africa is ancient, its traditions and ways buried in its DNA. You cannot change DNA.
But it leaves the power struggle a dangerous place to be. For Miriam and millions like her. We're in a place of political upheaval. Change. I hope we survive it - all of us.
Taxi!
In the absence of Car Share users going my way (and considering we're going to be a one-car / two-driver household for a bit), I've been pondering alternative transport methods to get to work.
Yes, I could join the lycra-clad cyclists up and down some pretty hectic hills, but while carrying a laptop, a handbag and a tray of cheese muffins...? I think not.
I could get a scooter - but cash is in short supply.
I could walk - and get really fit every day - but I need my time for other things like sleeping, eating and working.
Which leaves public transport. And the only option on this route is taxi.
If you're not South African, you won't understand what the big deal is about taking a taxi from one place to another. But these are not your first-world transport vehicles. They generally come with one unlicensed driver, a spotter (who eyeballs roadside loiterers for potential customers to add to the load), a soundsystem that you can hear coming miles away, bald tyres, a shotgun in case another taxi owner tries to steal his regulars / route / looks at him funny, and about 20 people in a 10-seater space.
Taxi ranks are a whole other world. I'm not entirely sure how the traffic rules work (if at all), but the mini-busses are generally parked nose to tail with centimetres to spare - how do they get in or out? Along the periphery are stalls with things for sale. Litter fills the gutters and unless you know which taxi to head for and who is going where, it can become extremely confusing.
Yet our office kitchen & cleaning lady negotiates this lot every morning - and if she's 5ft tall she's lucky. She takes on the masses and successfully makes it to work at the same time every day, for a lot cheaper than I do.
So I had a chat to her yesterday about "Taking a Taxi 101". Although I've grown up in South Africa, I've never learned how to hold your hand out when you want a ride, how to find the taxi that goes where you need to, what route numbers relate to which roads, how much it costs to go somewhere, or what the etiquette is when hailing a taxi, getting into/out of one, or sitting squashed up against your fellow-travelers.
I've been told it's dangerous - that a white chick carrying a laptop is not going to get out of there alive. Miriam the kitchen lady says "ai, no!" when I suggest it, that the drivers will crash because they don't have a license. But she did tell me where to go and what to ask for - at least to get to work. Dunno about back!
But perhaps every South African needs to ride a taxi at least once in their life?
And perhaps my time has come to do so.
Would you?
Yes, I could join the lycra-clad cyclists up and down some pretty hectic hills, but while carrying a laptop, a handbag and a tray of cheese muffins...? I think not.
I could get a scooter - but cash is in short supply.
I could walk - and get really fit every day - but I need my time for other things like sleeping, eating and working.
Which leaves public transport. And the only option on this route is taxi.
If you're not South African, you won't understand what the big deal is about taking a taxi from one place to another. But these are not your first-world transport vehicles. They generally come with one unlicensed driver, a spotter (who eyeballs roadside loiterers for potential customers to add to the load), a soundsystem that you can hear coming miles away, bald tyres, a shotgun in case another taxi owner tries to steal his regulars / route / looks at him funny, and about 20 people in a 10-seater space.
Taxi ranks are a whole other world. I'm not entirely sure how the traffic rules work (if at all), but the mini-busses are generally parked nose to tail with centimetres to spare - how do they get in or out? Along the periphery are stalls with things for sale. Litter fills the gutters and unless you know which taxi to head for and who is going where, it can become extremely confusing.
Yet our office kitchen & cleaning lady negotiates this lot every morning - and if she's 5ft tall she's lucky. She takes on the masses and successfully makes it to work at the same time every day, for a lot cheaper than I do.
So I had a chat to her yesterday about "Taking a Taxi 101". Although I've grown up in South Africa, I've never learned how to hold your hand out when you want a ride, how to find the taxi that goes where you need to, what route numbers relate to which roads, how much it costs to go somewhere, or what the etiquette is when hailing a taxi, getting into/out of one, or sitting squashed up against your fellow-travelers.
I've been told it's dangerous - that a white chick carrying a laptop is not going to get out of there alive. Miriam the kitchen lady says "ai, no!" when I suggest it, that the drivers will crash because they don't have a license. But she did tell me where to go and what to ask for - at least to get to work. Dunno about back!
But perhaps every South African needs to ride a taxi at least once in their life?
And perhaps my time has come to do so.
Would you?
Sexpo and beyond
WARNING: The opinions expressed below may differ dramatically from yours - but hey, it's my blog and I ain't your cookie-cutter anything... Leave a comment expressing yours!
The Cape Town Sexpo is in full swing ('scuse the rather obvious pun) at the moment, and has attracted its usual complement of protests. Mostly, of course, by the Christianly-religious folk. (I have yet to see a Buddhist protesting outside something like this!)
Trouble is, the naysayers have zoomed in on what they perceive, and nothing more.
Take a look at the Sexpo website - this is the HEALTH, SEXUALITY and LIFESTYLE expo - not just a "den of debauchery". In their words:
Truth is, if it weren't for financial & time constraints, Favourite Man and I would be there this weekend. I think it's cool that there's something like this going on in Cape Town - and indeed around the world. I'd love to try my hand (or legs) at the pole-dancing workshop (damn, that's good exercise! and targets exactly the bits I have trouble with), or get information on some of the stuff that's being exhibited. I'd love to get the chance to meet a few new folk and learn about things that may not yet have crossed my radar. I'd love to experience the kind of environment where you don't have to hide who you are - where no-one does, and where it's OK to be different, even more OK to have fun and a good laugh doing it. I don't condemn anyone for how they feel, how they choose to live, or not conforming to greater society's norms. Which apparently has surprised a few of my gay and lesbian friends who thought I'd be judgemental when they came out.
But not everyone thinks the way I do.
First to jump on the protest bandwagon are those who apparently never have sex because it's dirty and a sin. They've labelled the Sexpo as evil, adulterous, perverted. Perhaps to their way of living & thinking it is. But there are others who don't feel this way at all. Those who end up labelled by the righteous simply because they're a lot more comfortable with their sexual side and believe in "live and let live", who live openly and honestly enough not to hide their desires and interests. (I've known some who feel extremely repressed and bitter because they have to live double lives or be condemned in the worst possible way)
Then there are those who believe they can make a difference by being involved. They may not agree with everything that's going on, but they're doing good in the midst of it. I have a lot of respect for this chap, who goes transformational in spite of what the stiff-upper-lips of his denomination (and beyond) have to say about it. He's in there getting his hands dirty, and has probably made more of a positive impact than all the placard-carrying characters accosting Sexpo-visitors outside.
My take on this is simple. Each to his own journey - and don't try force people into your version of what that should look like. Nor condemn those who choose a different way to what you have. By all means share what you believe and think, but don't get pissed off if you can't convince others that your road is the only proper one. Respect their right to choose their path and walk it.
Perhaps I'm too open-minded? Too willing to accept people as fellow humans instead of examining their "faults" to fix? There are those who say an overly-open mind allows all the wrong stuff in - but I firmly believe in exploration, in finding what's right for you.
This morning Favourite Man and I were watching a local programme called Free Spirit over breakfast. It covers a lot of stuff some people would call weird, and others would immediately switch off because "I'm not letting the devil into my house!". There's a strong undercurrent of mysticism, an exploration of things like Reiki and energy fields, alternative therapies (ever heard of Apitherapy? Curing stuff through the use of bee stings? Fascinating!), concious caring for the earth and off-the-mainstream spirituality. Things that many are exploring in this day and age of the death of organized religion, which I've dipped briefly into in the past on this blog.
Today's episode had an insert on energy lines for home and personal health. Although I only caught part of it, a lot of it made sense - scientific and practical sense. Some was a bit way-out, but I'm willing to ponder it to decide whether I agree or not.
Same thing I do with the sort of stuff going on at the Sexpo. Not all of it's my cup of tea, but I'm quite happy to be open-minded and learn about it.
And there is the crux of the matter, both with the Sexpo and matters far beyond, which if I were to write about you'd be scrolling through for hours. Many folk are simply not willing to even entertain a thought that there could be value in something like this - that they could be enriched in some way by either attending the event or simply treating those who do with respect. Initiating abuse and condemnation does nothing for interpersonal relationships, transformational missiology or even simply getting along with your neighbour (remember "love your neighbour as yourself"?).
Same thing goes for matters religious and spiritual. Too many people miss out on a fantastic experience by dismissing things that are different to the norm outright. They condemn the bloke down the road because he chooses to believe in using a pendulum or has an altar.
So me - I'm all for the Sexpo, and happy to support organizers, attenders and explorers. I'm for alternative theologies too, examining every side avenue of every aspect of life, and finding the path that's right for you. I'm for the discussion, the listening to what people have to say, even if you don't agree - and for taking away from that what works for you.
And those protestors outside the Sexpo? I don't condemn their opinions - yet I do think their actions say a lot more about their spiritual insecurity than its strength.
But like I said, that's my opinion.
The Cape Town Sexpo is in full swing ('scuse the rather obvious pun) at the moment, and has attracted its usual complement of protests. Mostly, of course, by the Christianly-religious folk. (I have yet to see a Buddhist protesting outside something like this!)
Trouble is, the naysayers have zoomed in on what they perceive, and nothing more.
Take a look at the Sexpo website - this is the HEALTH, SEXUALITY and LIFESTYLE expo - not just a "den of debauchery". In their words:
The SEXPO – Health, Sexuality and Lifestyle Expo is about sexuality and so much more! It’s a lifestyle expo encompassing all areas of adult leisure; it’s an information expo, heightening awareness about everyday health issues but most of all it’s about having a good time!So it's pretty much wholistic - but yes, it's not for everyone - and it is for grownups.
SEXPO presents a diverse range of exhibitors, stage performers and workshop professionals providing a powerful and comprehensive platform for information, service offering and trade.
Truth is, if it weren't for financial & time constraints, Favourite Man and I would be there this weekend. I think it's cool that there's something like this going on in Cape Town - and indeed around the world. I'd love to try my hand (or legs) at the pole-dancing workshop (damn, that's good exercise! and targets exactly the bits I have trouble with), or get information on some of the stuff that's being exhibited. I'd love to get the chance to meet a few new folk and learn about things that may not yet have crossed my radar. I'd love to experience the kind of environment where you don't have to hide who you are - where no-one does, and where it's OK to be different, even more OK to have fun and a good laugh doing it. I don't condemn anyone for how they feel, how they choose to live, or not conforming to greater society's norms. Which apparently has surprised a few of my gay and lesbian friends who thought I'd be judgemental when they came out.
But not everyone thinks the way I do.
First to jump on the protest bandwagon are those who apparently never have sex because it's dirty and a sin. They've labelled the Sexpo as evil, adulterous, perverted. Perhaps to their way of living & thinking it is. But there are others who don't feel this way at all. Those who end up labelled by the righteous simply because they're a lot more comfortable with their sexual side and believe in "live and let live", who live openly and honestly enough not to hide their desires and interests. (I've known some who feel extremely repressed and bitter because they have to live double lives or be condemned in the worst possible way)
Then there are those who believe they can make a difference by being involved. They may not agree with everything that's going on, but they're doing good in the midst of it. I have a lot of respect for this chap, who goes transformational in spite of what the stiff-upper-lips of his denomination (and beyond) have to say about it. He's in there getting his hands dirty, and has probably made more of a positive impact than all the placard-carrying characters accosting Sexpo-visitors outside.
My take on this is simple. Each to his own journey - and don't try force people into your version of what that should look like. Nor condemn those who choose a different way to what you have. By all means share what you believe and think, but don't get pissed off if you can't convince others that your road is the only proper one. Respect their right to choose their path and walk it.
Perhaps I'm too open-minded? Too willing to accept people as fellow humans instead of examining their "faults" to fix? There are those who say an overly-open mind allows all the wrong stuff in - but I firmly believe in exploration, in finding what's right for you.
This morning Favourite Man and I were watching a local programme called Free Spirit over breakfast. It covers a lot of stuff some people would call weird, and others would immediately switch off because "I'm not letting the devil into my house!". There's a strong undercurrent of mysticism, an exploration of things like Reiki and energy fields, alternative therapies (ever heard of Apitherapy? Curing stuff through the use of bee stings? Fascinating!), concious caring for the earth and off-the-mainstream spirituality. Things that many are exploring in this day and age of the death of organized religion, which I've dipped briefly into in the past on this blog.
Today's episode had an insert on energy lines for home and personal health. Although I only caught part of it, a lot of it made sense - scientific and practical sense. Some was a bit way-out, but I'm willing to ponder it to decide whether I agree or not.
Same thing I do with the sort of stuff going on at the Sexpo. Not all of it's my cup of tea, but I'm quite happy to be open-minded and learn about it.
And there is the crux of the matter, both with the Sexpo and matters far beyond, which if I were to write about you'd be scrolling through for hours. Many folk are simply not willing to even entertain a thought that there could be value in something like this - that they could be enriched in some way by either attending the event or simply treating those who do with respect. Initiating abuse and condemnation does nothing for interpersonal relationships, transformational missiology or even simply getting along with your neighbour (remember "love your neighbour as yourself"?).
Same thing goes for matters religious and spiritual. Too many people miss out on a fantastic experience by dismissing things that are different to the norm outright. They condemn the bloke down the road because he chooses to believe in using a pendulum or has an altar.
So me - I'm all for the Sexpo, and happy to support organizers, attenders and explorers. I'm for alternative theologies too, examining every side avenue of every aspect of life, and finding the path that's right for you. I'm for the discussion, the listening to what people have to say, even if you don't agree - and for taking away from that what works for you.
And those protestors outside the Sexpo? I don't condemn their opinions - yet I do think their actions say a lot more about their spiritual insecurity than its strength.
But like I said, that's my opinion.
Gotta blog this!
You'll appreciate it muchly if you're SAfrican!
Stolen off the ChumpStyle blog.
::update::
Holy crap... there's more!
Stolen off the ChumpStyle blog.
::update::
Holy crap... there's more!
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