21 Days. Crisis. What Crisis?

Joni Eareckson Tada dove into the murky waters of Chesapeake Bay and suffered a spinal injury that had left her  tetraplegic.  At one stage, she had hung upside down UNDER her bed, in traction, staring at the floor, for a prolonged period of time.  I quite think she’d not even notice 21 days of lockdown.  Now read on for more perspectives……

My Own Story

It started in 1994, maybe well before that.  The pain under my left foot, in the hollow there.  Over time, it became worse until I had to crawl where I wanted to be.  The house was large, so getting to the bathroom was quite a challenge, given the runway length of the hallway.

By the time I got to the Doctor, he sent me down the highway on a three-hour drive to see an orthopaedic surgeon who sent me off to the provincial medical headquarters for a CAT scan and MRI.  Upon my return, I was wheelchaired when he read the report from the radiologists and bundled into a hospital bed.   I wasn’t allowed to walk (as if I could, anyhow!) and rode my wheelchair with gusto.  At age 32, some testosterone was still in great supply and I practised wheelies and made skid marks on the hospital floor.  That was until the Matron came in and pulled up my hand brake, berating me for being “reckless.”  So, I told her, that I did have some amateur rally driving experience and also track racing, that I wasn’t going to wreck her wheelchair.  That was when I learned that I was about to snap my spinal cord, that the “transformer fluid” already drained all by itself and that a permanent life in a wheelchair was about “98% guaranteed.”

So, they never found a neurosurgeon, as it was Easter and the orthopaedic surgeon went in on his own, saving me from being permanently crippled but leaving me with much-reduced mobility.  That cost me my job, with a wife and two primary school kids, in a country where white men can’t even apply for jobs due to “affirmative action.”  

This signalled in decades of hardship and our very kind churches helped us dispose of whatever we could salvage from our estate.  Our entire legacy, home, and even paid-for (in cash) luxury German cars bit the bullet.

We were devastated.  Then came hypertension, diabetes, congestive heart failure, atrial fibrillation, and the old auto-immune diseases resurfaced.   Sarcoidosis, asthma, intolerances of gluten, legumes, etc., and fibromyalgia, rheumatic arthritis and the like descended upon me.  At one stage, I had an NDE (near-death experience) and things became hectic.

Over time, unstable angina and tachycardia rose their ugly heads.

This lot, quite understandably, resulted in 21 years of very limited mobility and it was only by March 2016 that a true miracle happened:  I got up and WALKED on my own two hind feet, unassisted!   Prior to this, my wife read me a Bible verse which she saw as a message from God that my back would be healed.  The day that my lower spine became very warm and felt as if the bones in there moved,  she couldn’t wait for me to tell her – as she heard it from about two metres away.

Without a job and after having been cleaned out by the church laundrymen, we had a very exciting life, of course.  It meant severe hardship and a life of tremendous sacrifice and compromise.

To be stuck in one room for seven months on end, or to fear a bathroom visit, wasn’t easy, as I happened to be an adventurer who could be found on mountain tops or deep in the ocean, diving about.  That suddenly came to an abrupt halt as my first stint of being bedridden lasted a full six months.    The first heart attack and stroke followed by 1995; I suffered 12 strokes since, possibly a handful of TIA’s as well, but we were too far from medical help to know for sure.  Doctors also diagnosed mild heart attacks upon a few occasions, six or seven times.

Forced to stay inside, living three storeys up in the sky, wasn’t very easy as I grew up in the wild, always out in nature.  Now, the opposite happened.  I was locked in, locked down, with no real hope for getting out.

It was only that 2016 miracle that freed me and we had undertaken fourteen long-distance journeys by rail by now, from the basic tourist class to the opulent The Blue Train.

From November 2018 to September 2019, I suffered four strokes in the basal ganglia area of the brain, permanently affecting my gait so that I now walk with my induku, or walking stick.  In Afrikaans, we call that a kierie. 

Experiencing austerity on top of restricted mobility is something we take in our stride.  I cannot see how 21 days of coronavirus lockdown can ever really be a problem, other than that my wife can not earn and the food is running out.   My meagre state disability allowance really is taxed beyond its spartan limits already.   When fellow South Africans whine about their 21 days of hardship, I really sigh and wonder how loudly the shack dwellers must be laughing now.  54% Of our nation live on <US$55 per month. 

Just last night, a famous adventurer opined on national television that “almost any South African can get into an SUV and drive up to Mapungubwe, more than a thousand miles from Cape Town.  Such is the disconnectedness from the realities that the general population face.

Under these circumstances, we make “camping food” after we had two tins of tune and pretty little else to see us through the past weekend.  And I still lobby for food aid for others in greater need than us without thinking of our welfare here in this mansion measuring a whopping 150 feet square.  This is where we are holed up in for 21 days, on this piece of prime real estate that doesn’t come cheap.  Not at all, but we pay our dues always.

So:  to the whiners: don’t expose yourselves for being spoiled, privileged brats.   Start experiencing how others live.


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Not The Easiest Post To Publish – Selfish SouthAfrican Shoppers

In South Africa, the majority of us live on less than US$50 per month! Then a little virus shows up and everybody runs to the store, the 45% that do have money to buy food, that is. They buy all the cheaper stuff in bulk, leaving little for poor people to buy. This is selfish and really very, very rude. Some of us living with a disability, simply get pushed out of the way.  And mostly women that do such things.

Men are pigs, remember!

Men ran for the liquor stores as some of them would shrivel up and dry if not fed liquid carbs and vitamin P daily, or rather perpetually. People had a real fright, thinking of 21 “dry” days. It scared them out of their wits. In some cultures, as South Africa is a cultural divide, we saw that communities simply forced open stores and looted them. Army battle tanks, armoured cars, armed soldiers – all 45,000 of them – were insufficient to deter the mobs in certain places.

In my own suburb, there’s not a soul in sight, not a dog crossing a street, a car drives past once every two hours or so. In a suburb that sometimes sees bumper-to-bumper stationary, congested traffic for well over ten miles. Now, the streets are safe for toddlers to play on if they were allowed outside.

Same suburb where people drive Cayennes, not Polo’s and G-wagens, not little Opels. When a guy with a $500k Pizza Car can throw a tantrum at McDonalds as his burger wasn’t okay.  The spoilt, entitled brats with individually steamed, ironed and packed panties that get delivered in gift boxes adorned with fancy ribbons and nice little cardies. While others can’t buy meat or veggies and only afford cheap high-carb fillers.

Us who live on irregular, casual incomes absolutely based on tourism, saw a decline since December already but it became hectic by end February. Over the past few weeks, we dined on Mug & Bean as in the photo. Nobody spared us a thought, nobody showed up with a few tins of food, here we sit stuck and have nothing to improve the situation. No income, no shopping. What about vitamin tablets? Not for this sector of the population.

Perhaps the emptied shelves don’t matter if you have no money, anyhow.   And you lack sufficient doses of melanin in your skin to legally qualify for even applying for a job, such as the “equal rights” the socialists cried for,  for decades and the Free West helped install into government. Your day will come, then you will feel what it is like. Britain and Europe are already tasting the fruits.


Our wealthy friends phoned to tell us how we should hoard while we didn’t have money to buy that day’s food. Ridiculous, to see the disconnect from the reality of most. Easy to achieve in a classist society as we were instantly excommunicated when I pointed out the impracticality of the advice. The wounded soldier always have to be fighting fit and on inspection standard. There is no tolerance for anything less and any deficit has to be denied vociferously, such is the hypocrisy of my tribe. And it is despicable.

This was at 7AM!! Ona Monday!!  During the lockdown, this is how the Have’s left the store after their buying sprees the previous few days. 

Acts chapters 2 & 4 is just missing from the much-quoted Bibles. The heartlessness of Christianity shouts at heaven.

Oh, and if the shoe fits…………………….


Manjaro Tantrums

No, it wasn’t really that bad but it had the potential to get me throwing my toys.  As I had been without the Internet for a few days, I had time to play around with operating systems that I had handy on USB flash drives here at home.  The subject of this discussion happened to be Manjaro Linux with KDE Plasma desktop.

Built on Arch Linux, it promises something stable yet closer toward the bleeding edge, or that was my understanding.  In practice, I’d say that it was a cake in the oven that still needed some mixing and my guess is that some ingredients were still in the pantry.

Anything that loses its ability to handle files halfway through a file copying exercise, needs to be certified insane and locked up in an asylum, far away from others where it can do harm.  It was amazing to see how rapidly a sleek, crisp piece of software architecture can turn itself into a batch of crippleware after a simple software update.  Said update happened this afternoon after my new, fast Rain internet became active and I had fast 4G uncapped to play with.    Quite a few things broke and I wasted no time installing Windows 10 Professional, an operating system that actually works really well, sans of the fact that it cannot connect with my Samsung Galaxy S7 via Bluetooth.  The Samsung guys at the V&A Waterfront told me my Bluetooth was “too old.”   Imagine that coming from a prime ICT brand……………..

Sai Galaxy S7 connects easily with any other Bluetooth device, including this very same Lenovo Thinkpad Edge E540 regardless of which flavour of Linux sits on it.  Kubuntu, Ubuntu, Lubuntu, Mint in all its incarnations from Cinnamon to Xfce, Manjaro, Kali and the like.  It just works.

Except on Microsoft’s Windows 10 Pro build 1909 and very much op to date.

As the KDE Connect on Android Oreo and the same on KDE Plasma desktop do connect yet still have functionality issues, I guess it would be best to leave the Bluetooth for my trusty Marshall headset.

While the final updates of Windows 10 Pro are installing, I just wrote to give you an update of my tech geek life, albeit a bit burdened at the moment,  Gloria Gaynor affirming the position on TuneIn Radio that I will survive.  Quite a great idea with soldiers and police out in the street to ensure we don’t fraternize with some stray Coronaviruses.

I changed my Twitter handle to @lOcktOwn.


Rain Internet

I recently mentioned Rain data-only internet in South Africa.

Customer experience has been good, order, registration, RICA, delivery all took less than a week.  (Why do we still RICA when that law was ruled unlawful in a court of law??)

It runs smooth on my Samsung Galaxy S7 which I employ as a hotspot. Throughput is peaking at 21.7 mbps which is excellent for 4G, but mostly 14 – 18mbps, sometimes momentarily dropping to around 9mbps which is still really good for a mobile solution.

Uncapped from 11pm to 6pm the next day. Costs R250pm with R50/GB in peak hours.

So far, so good.

Rain Coverage around Cape Town is good.

LinuxMint: Every Geek Has His Distro

What is a nerd? Easy: a nerd is someone whose IQ exceeds his/her body weight in pounds. With an opening like that, there has to be a story in here.…..

A computer is a dumbass. A smartphone, tablet, Xbox, Playstation, Nintendo Wii and the like are all just computers, same as the wearables that count how many calories you burned en route to the fridge to spread some Corona across your BBQ area. Your mates lying in wait, assaulting the snacks platters.

00101000111010001001110100101010101101010101101011010101 (garbage, not code)

That is how computers speak. Zeroes and ones and all the daft things can do all day, is to add 0+0, 0+1 OR 1+1. Try as hard as you like but you won’t tell the CPU to push anything else through RAM. As it cannot. It sits there all day, adding zeroes and ones, getting as bored as a scorekeeper at a cricket game.

The CPU, RAM, BIOS, HDD/SSD, optical drive or network device produce as requested by input devices such as keyboard, mouse, tablet or scanner. It translates all that into machine code which is understood by the operating system that drives the application software.

The operating system is an instruction set that does as told and nothing else. It can’t randomly decide to get up to brew tea or take a pee. It will sit on your desk or lap and try its very best to look sexy and smart and sleek by HOW it adds 0+0, 0+1 and 1+1. When you power up the computer, there are stages where certain things happen, such as switching on the keyboard, CPU, testing the memory, starting your graphics and sound cards, etc. The old MS-DOS used to hook up at a stage called DOS Interrupt 13H.

Now the operating system loads, that is the interface between the machine code and the applications used by the user, which is you. The operating system, henceforth called the OS, now gives capability and identity to your computer. There are at least fourteen modern OS’s in use and these include systems such as Apple Corporation’s MacOS, Microsoft’s Windows, IBM’s AIX, others such as Solaris, Java, Unix and Linux. There are more, think of some like BSD, etc.

Of these, many are legacy software or proprietary but others are FOSS, acronym for Free and Open Source Software. Freeware is endemic to Windows only.

FOSS brings us the beautifully fragmented world of Linux, an OS built in 1992 by Linus Torvalds. Anyone can make his own and it seems as if everyone has. There are well over 300 versions or editions or designs of Linux, called “distro’s.” I have gained profiency in a host of them, namely AriOS by Mahdi in Iran to Zorin. I can’t recall the names of the Zorin fathers. Mark Shuttleworth made Linux popular via creating the Ubuntu Linux distro.

Ubuntu is a South African word meaning “I am, because we are.” It is pronounced “ooohh-booohhn-tooooh.” It doesn’t rhyme with YOU but with OOH. Elongated at that. Ubuntu is based on Debian, one of the early distro’s created by DEBorah and IAN. DEBIAN. Ian died under strange circumstances in police custody some years ago, sadly.

There is another major strain or fork of Linux which is RPM based. Think Arch Linux, RHEL (Red Hat Enterprise Linux), Fedora, Manjaro and the like.

Then there are several desktop environments or DE’s just as Android (which runs on a fork of the Linux kernel) has its TouchWhizz and similar DE’s. In the Linux world, these would typically be KDE, MATE (pronounced “matay”), GNOME, Cinnamon, Xfce, etc.

Enthusiasts around the world all collaborate in developing Linux and software that can run on it. Therein lies its security “guarantee” as thousands of eyeballs closely watch every line of source code. Linux also is more secure because of the diversity of distro’s, making the development of malware really hard for the criminal. In Linux, every process can be run in its own secure sandbox and infecting your mail app with a virus from your browser or word processor is really unlikely. More so, because the virus won’t have root (administrator) privileges that have to be granted manually by the user. The myriad of Android apps is a caveat as it gives all kinds of uncouth permissions to apps you so gladly download and install.

Linux security has another, lesser security benefit in that its installed base is relatively small. People wrongly believe that that is why Linux is virtually immune to computer viruses. Mac used to be that safe but criminals have noticed that it was bought by well-heeled folks who could be held to ransom. Now Microsoft was said to be helping Apple develop anti-malware systems. Linux had its tiny share of malignant code, mostly rootkits. I run Chekroot and Rootkit Hunter and others on my system. These are tiny little command line based soldiers that guard my system when nobody’s watching. I also use an antivirus that requires no user intervention, developed by Dr Sophos, the gent who identified the first virus infection on a computer, ever. It was an an Apple II.

I haven’t used Microsoft for about a decade until I was gifted a very nice Lenovo Thinkpad Edge laptop a few months ago. It came with Microsoft Office 2013 on MS Windows 10 Professional. Unlike others, I had no problems back in the day with Windows ME, mine ran fine, as did Vista. It was Windows 7 Ultimate 64-bit that had invoked my ire and ignited my holy indignation. It lacked drivers for peripherals, necessitating replacement of my modem dongle, scanner, printer, etc. I wasn’t impressed.

One day, my slow, top-heavy Windows 7 simply failed and came up with BSOD aka Blue Screen of Death. No nifty tricks, coaxing, tweaking or TLC could get the darn thing sorted. I took an Ubuntu Linux DVD and promptly escaped from the Hell of Gates, found Ubuntu society and lived happily ever after. The amazing part is that everything just worked and needed no driver installations, defragging or other system maintenance. It took up little space and booted into a few hundred megabytes of RAM. Light, fast and stable.

Then came the inevitable itch and I started distro-hopping like a locust on the rampage. I soon developed a taste for DEB-based Linux and an aversion to RPM based. That has to be some deep psychological preference based upon what my ancestors hunted for dinner six thousand years ago. I could find no real, logical reason. I even played with quirky ones such as Slackware’s Puppy Linux, PCLinuxOS and such. The other day, I ventured into Kali Linux but soon deleted it. I have simply no need for cracking into the neighbour’s teenage son’s wireless router to see what he is watching online.

As per usual, I am back at Linux Mint Cinnamon because its ease of use, extreme dependability and predictable reliability. I am retired after over forty years in Finance & IT and need an office suite, a PIM and maybe a media player. Oh, and graphic editing software such as RAWTherapee and Darktable. I take photos in RAW and like to edit them with top quality apps for ease of use.


Right now, with a music album playing, I am a rocker, and with LibreOffice writing this here, I am using 1.6GB RAM. That leaves the remainder of 8GB DDR3 untouched. Room to play and my swap partition idles along untouched.
I had reduced swappiness from 60 to 5, as I won’t need to access virtual memory any day soon. My Linux and entire life sits on 20GB of my 256GB SSD. It gets backed up to a 1TB external USB 3.0 hard drive periodically.

While using Windows 10 Pro, the SSD became too densely populated and started lagging. That OS actually is very good but updates broke it and it sinned by eating a few gigabytes of my very expensive mobile data. It had to be swung from the gallows to free my system.

Overall, Linux Mint Cinnamon is a pleasant system to use and you need not fear failure or excitement. It pitches for practice, dresses neatly but won’t entice you with cleavages and a nice bum. Just jeans and sneakers and a polo neck sweater.

This is the safest route for anyone to enter the Linux world. Even Cinnamon desktop won’t tax your system. It had run on feeble Celeron systems with ease, as I had a few of those and also an old AMD Athlon64. No problems.

So, how about juggling noughts and zeroes in peace?


Korona KruideniersKosKas


1994: Ons vriende gaar op en fris manne loop op straat met semi-outomatiese wapens wat bult staan onder die bosbaadjies. Ons het pas Vrystaat toe getrek en wil ons stilweg doodlag vir die stommiteite. By die kerk word vergaderings gehou en een boer bied aan dat mense op sy oop saailande hulle woonwaens in laers kom trek. En ek lag stilweg. As ek nou die vyand moet wees, sal so ‘n papierdun laertjie darem plesier verskaf aan ‘n goeie skut oor ‘n duisend treë. Dit sal hulle prettige kampeeruitstappie in avontuur verander in ‘n oogwink. Wie waar gaan wegkruip, vra ek myself liewer nie af nie. Daar is rekenmeesters, prokureurs, onderwysers, bankamptenare en ander proffessionele lui in die groepie. Ook werktuigkundiges van alle soorte, mense wat veronderstel is om ten minste effens prakties te kan dink. Hulle sogenaamde vyand ken lekker kragtige aanvalswapens soos die Kalashnikoff AK-74, iets wat hom nie van die dwarskant van ‘n treinspoorstaaf laat keer nie. Wat ‘n liggewig woonwa moet bied as beskerming, snap ek eenvoudig nie. Toegangsroetes wat gemyn kan word, is buite hulle verbeeldingsvermoë – en dan het hulle nog nie eens gedink aan ‘n lekker outydse wegstaanbestoking nie. Dis nou as Christengelowiges begin vertroue verloor in God en eerder glo in die aanvalsvermoë van ‘n denkbeeldige vyand. Een wat al die land se ekonomie gesteel en ander kwade goed gedoen het maar darem nou, 26 jaar later, nog nie konvensionele aanvalle geloods het nie.

Winkels is leeg en koskaste volgepak met enigiets van Portugal se plat sardientjies tot elke ertjie wat ooit in die Boland geblik is, en sy boontjie-buurman. Dis blikkieskos en graankos en sakke mieliemeel wat seker vol miet gaan raak, kraakbeskuitjies van elke soort en tekstuur, tandepasta, seep, toiletpapier en kanne en kanne en kanne water wat uiteindelik plastiekerig staan en sweet. Kerse, vuurhoutjies, gassilinders, paraffienlampe – staan gereed, ook om lekker te brand.

Dis verkiesing en ek was pas onder operasie, kan nie opstaan of bestuur nie. Ons kom nie in die winkel nie en die bure bring sommer elke dag se benodigdhede van die heuwelwinkel af saam. Af en toe cabanossi ook maar dis duur. Op die dag dat die uitslae bekend gemaak word, eet ons sommer warmbrakke en drink swart gaskoeldrank, daai kouksoort. En ‘n week of wat later daag die ryk vriende op, vra saggies of ons belangstel in afgemerkte tweedehandse blikkieskos. Hulle dink ook nie: as ons drie weke terug nie daarvoor geld gehad het nie, waar moet ek tienduisend Rand kry om bargainboontjies mee te koop? Dis maande se netto salaris daardie! As hulle in ongeloof wou opgaar en nie toe aan ons kon dink nie, hoekom nou ons beskeie vars kos verruil vir blikkieskos wat, selfs teen afslagpryse, duurder is as wat ons gereeld vars eet?

2020: Mense bel en vertel hoe ons moet opgaar. Die vraag is of enigiets verander het sedert 1994. En hoe die 31 miljoen wat van minder as R991 bruto per maand moet leef, oor die weg moet kom.

In hulle vertroue in hulle eie vermoë, verloor mense skynbaar hulle vertroue in God. Ek dink dis beter om arm en van God afhanklik te wees.


In His Image

A verse that had caused some debate over the years…………..

26 And God 0430 said 0559 8799 , Let us make 06213 8799 man 0120 in our image 06754 , after our likeness 01823 : and let them have dominion 07287 8799 over the fish 01710 of the sea 03220 , and over the fowl 05775 of the air 08064 , and over the cattle 0929 , and over all the earth 0776 , and over every creeping thing 07431 that creepeth 07430 8802 upon the earth 0776 .
27 So God 0430 created 01254 8799 man 0120 in his own image 06754 , in the image 06754 of God 0430 created 01254 8804 he him; male 02145 and female 05347 created 01254 8804 he them.

I have left the Strong’s Numbers for you so that you can easier research them to see what was said. Firstly, there seem to be more words written in English than in the original Hebrew. Then again, in Hebrew someone would refer to “the wood” when talking about a table, wardrobe, ladder or desk. So, sit at the wood on the wood and write with your wood, the latter being the pencil. I don’t read Hebrew, remember, I’m going on what a Messianic friend in Jerusalem said.

The question really is whether God is monotheistic or not. Did He call upon His Partner Gods or did He summon angels to help him create man? The short answer is “we don’t know.” We do presume, of course, to follow our own beliefs. And then the Bible goes on to say “in His own image, He created them.” There is no “they” or “us” in the last sentence from the very same Bible.

I understand the this the same way that I understand the trinity concept: mind+body+spirit. All in one person, not different persona. I am many things: a son, a father, a grandpa, an IT geek, a marksman, a blogger, a coffee drinker, a hiker, a husband, a lover……yet I am just me, Pete. I don’t become different people to be different people to others. It is like the Seven Spirits of God we see in Isaiah 11 and Revelation.

When we start really dissecting the Biblical Almighty God pedantically to dig into the semantics, we find a complex God so much beyond the figure of three. Interesting to note that His disciples didn’t worship any trinity but rather that Jesus was (is) God. To them, it was that simple. Trinity teaching only came later and the New Testament text was altered to accommodate that new belief system. Historically, a Byzantine monk presented the Trinity to bring unity between the Church of the East (Constantinople) and the Church of the West (Rome) for gaining mutual political and economical power – it had little or nothing to do with theology! That was the formal position as from 284AD.

Christianity had added text to their Bibles, notably the supposedly “inerrant” KJV and then bashed every subsequent Bible that lacked these additions and alterations. They took the somewhat flawed KJV as the “gold standard” when it was good yet not perfect. I really think people should properly research facts before running about with opinions. I can’t show a Ph D for my reading yet I did spend twelve years digging deeply into this, consulting with professors of theology who are historians and also Messianic Rabbi’s. A third contacted me, wanted me to do a Ph D with his university but I declined.

There are people out there who are told the Bible is absolutely flawless. Others from other religions study the Scriptures, find the errors and then erode the base of believers. I personally know two Cape Town girls who had turned their backs on Jesus Christ as a result, really, of the zealous bigotry instead of actual knowledge they grew up in. So now you understand why I needed to open this can of worms, to show the Bible is accurate yet not without its errors. I mean, after all, believers are erroneously called eunuchs, making some argue that Jessus condoned homosexuality in the Temple, thereby transgressing Deuteronomy 23. yet again, as with the camel through the eye of the needle, a badly translated word.

Please believe the Word of God. 66 Books written by at least 43 authors over a period of at least 1,500 years in different places so nobody could compare notes, yet the story of Jessus runs through it like a golden thread, from Genesis to The Revelation, including the Apocrypha. Jesus is undeniably authentic and still the Last Prophet, the Lord of the Lights and the Almighty Creator. The One who said: “Before Abraham was, I am”


A Whole God Hidden In Plain Sight

John 1:14

The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we saw his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son, full of grace and truth.

Isaiah 9:6

A child will be born for us. A son will be given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. He will be named: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.


Die Sneeuvrou uit Oskemen

Hoë geboue is soos seilskepe. Hulle vang die wind teen hulle breë, plat lywe en jaag dit onder om of onder deur. Vra maar die fietsryers wat belaglik genoeg was om onder die Kaapstadse Burgesentrum deur te wou fiets enkele jare gelede. Ek, wat op Worcester meermale my nr 28 Humber-fiets moes huis toe dra, het lekker gelag. Ek was nog aan’t tande wissel. Met ‘n emptie smaail.

Toe dra ek al fiets. In my kaalvoet, kortbtoekdae.

Om te woon waar sneeu en ys meer prominent is as Suidoostewind in Kampsbaai, moet ‘n belewenis wees. Dit klink net so avontuurlik soos om twee-uur in die nag lechwe, koedoe, vlakvark, wildebees of waterbok in jou tuin te hê. Soos vriende doer in die Bosveld. Of om die knopperige ou Labrador een keer benoud te hoor tjank as die cheetah hom vang in die klein ure van die nag. In my agterplaas.

Hier waar ek bly, het ons darem nog hier en daar dassies, ‘n skugter rooikat, geelslang en pofadder. Maar as jy YS wil sien, bestel klippies en kouk, soos ‘n “mechanic.”. Ek het naby die grootste potketel in die wêreld grootgeword. Dis by die KWV op Worcester. Oom Vincent se dogter, my Sondagskoolkind, was die site expert toergids daar. Sy het ons laat proe aan twintigjaaroud brandefien wat tranerig teen die glas se wand af abseil en dan verder met ‘n kierie loop. Van ouderdom. Maar ys is nie endemies nie. Dit kom soms verby soos daai vyf buiteseisoen-noorkapers laasweek. Ys is nie van hier nie, dis gestuur.

Anders as Dewetsdorp waar ons na kerk in November nog die ys moes breek dat die hoenders kon drink. Lekker koud, daar. Maar 32 grade warmer as Oskemen.

Sewende Laan? Daai lawwe mense gaan mos vir ‘n kampeernaweek Kampsbaai toe. Waar geen kampeerplek is nie. Dis vernoem na Van Kampf, ‘n Duitse Vryburger-boer. Niks met kampering te make nie. Souties noem dif Campsbay. Soos gewoonlik kan hulle nie eens name uitspreek nie. Soos Llandudno.

DR Christa van Staden skryf ysig warm uit Oskemen, lees gerus dié lekker stukkie lewenservaring:
Ons woon nou 10 dae langer as ‘n jaar in Oskemen. In die tyd het ek geleer hoe warm dit hier kan wees, maar beslis ook hoe koud dit hier kan wees. Koud is baie erger as warm, ons het al -38C beleef. En raai wat, ten spyte van my vrese dat ons in yspilare gaan verander, het ons nie.

Ons het die eerste winter oorleef. En glo my, as iemand begin Desember 2019 vir my gevra het of ek hier gaan bly, sou die antwoord ‘n besliste nee wees. Die paar weke in suid-Afrika in die middel van die winter het mens weer tyd gegee om perspektief te kry.

Dit is koud, ja, maar koud kan oorleef word. Ons kan koud oorleef. As ons die winter breek en vir ‘n paar weke na die sonnige Suid-Afrika terugkeer. En dit is presies wat ons gaan doen, want dit is noodsaaklik om ons vitamien D aan te vul.

Hier skyn die son in die middel van die winter vir minder as 7 ure per dag. En sulke lang nagte gee die son te min kans om die aarde te probeer warm maak. Terwyl die sonkoningin elke week kom kuier en ‘n laag sneeu bo-oor alles gooi.

Is gooi ooit die regte woord? Sy strooi dit liggies oor. Soos die shefs maak wanneer hulle koeke met los versiersuiker bestrooi. Dit word egter hier so dik dat gooi wel ‘n goeie beskrywing kan wees.

Interessant genoeg kry die sneeu nie regtig kans om in die tonnels onder die woonstelgeboue so dik soos buite in te waai nie, maar elke keer word ‘n lagie sneeu wel deur die wind ingewaai. En hierdie sneeu vries snags vas. Omdat dit ver laer as subzero word. Natuurlik ook omdat die son nie in die tonnels inskyn nie.

Hierdie sneeu word deur die bande van motors wat daaroor gaan verfrommel en verdraai. Oms later soos seepgladde stukkies rivierklippe te lyk.


Dit is nogal ‘n hele proses om van die een kant na die ander te stap, want mens gly op hierdie yspunte. En ek doen baie om seker te maak dat ek nie hierop gly nie. Ek dink dit kan ‘n paar blou kolle op ‘n heup- of boud instamp. Veral omdat ons nou begin om die jasse eenkant te sit.

Dit is tyd om lente te groet. Hmmmm, moet ek byvoeg dat net bo subzero lente is?

Laat ek nou nie so pedanties wees, soos Paula in 7de Laan sou sê nie. Wie wil nou stry dat Maart lente in die noodelike halfrond is?

Dit is lente en ek dink ek en manlief is so opgewonde soos skoolkinders omdat ons nou buite kan stap.


Deadly Driver Ants

As a kid, we had those little red ants on the farm. Real little biting buggers, always on the attack.

However, in the autobiography of a French Roman Catholic nun in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, I have read about a man that was eaten alive by really wild ants while he was sleeping off a sizeable hangover.

Lawrence G Green wrote about inch-long driver ants that had invaded a compound and eaten a collection of live lion and leopard cubs, monkeys, birds, a python and crocodiles. That happened in a country called Botswana.

And then we think of elephants, hippo’s or malaria mosquitoes being the more dangerous animals in Africa!

For the record: no, we don’t have lions in our streets in South Africa. It is 2020…we live in civilization, after all.


Kanye West it

“Take of that,” the mall security prowler said curtly. I was offended by his brusque manner. And rather convincingly told him so.

A few days later, the same happened at the Central Library in the old Drill Hall. This time, the security detail was a tad more polite and explained that “you nowadays must do a Kanye West for the CCTV cameras.”.   Just turn that baseball cap back to front……


Railway on the Hunters’ Road

The 500 miles from Bulawayo to Mafeking was built at a rate of up to four miles a day by George Pauling and his team. Rhodes bought £250k shares and Alfred Beit a whopping two million. It followed a wagon track best known as The Hunters’ Road through the east of Botswana.

There were many casualties, especially “water boys.” Max Sonnenberg from Vryburg converted a rail car into a general goods store and made good money. CGR and SAR operated the line in a foreign country. Amazing how things were done. Tswana chiefs provided protection.

There is another story of railway guys that built a side line, diverted three cars full of whiskey, then pulled up the tracks and took their contraband to Bulawayo by ox-wagon. The theft was only discovered much later when someone came across the three alienated rail cars in the bush.

In the photo: South Africa’s very first Locomotive, Blackie, built by Hawthorn & Leith in Scotland, 1859. Blackie is plinthed on Cape Town Station, where Eric Lomax, visited her in December 1939 where his destiny led him to become The Railway Man.



imagesUp to his death around Christmas 1993, I did correspond with the late Dr Norman Vincent Peale. Read -studied, rather – his books The Power of Positive Thinking and The Positive Principle Today. I grew up with Don Gosset’s book on proclaiming positively.

Stop reading right here if you’re easily offended. Because I offend when badly offended. If you know me, been through Job-like trials since around 1989. One does get weary and then become intolerant of crap.

I am particularly sensitive to the preachy types, albeit religion or just life crap they shout from their soap boxes.

“You must eat plant-based.”. Who the hell said I must? Will you pay that bill, as it doesn’t come cheap. Or, since ” you should only eat Vegan,” will you first remove the nuts, legumes and other plant protein I’m allergic to or intolerant of, such as soya? Will you buy the fancy, low-sugar, high protein veggies in the quantities I may need.

Thank you. I eat whatever scraps I can afford, as I live with disability in a country where white men by law cannot be employed. As 27 million blacks want the jobs first. Why people riot and strike while employed, is beyond me.

So, while I had my Job struggles, lost my everything and myself, the green teabag with drew up in her eco friendly 6.3 litre V8 with a herd of cattle draped over the seats. To come preach to my lost and forlorn natural soul because of my plastic teaspoon.

As long as I eat my fake lentil sausages that’s laden with perfectly poisonous to my body. Then she’s happy, hovering on her organic broom with sustainable stick. Not plastic, as it pollutes. Not wooden, as that is massacre in the woods.

So, be happy, she says. You must always be happy. Oh, really? My Big Bedtime Story Book says I must stop laughing and start mourning. For mankind’s iniquities are stacked high. Just be positively.

Next thing, she positively bashed in the heads of the cricket coach, the socialist local president and the big guy in that oval where nobody plays cricket on Capitol Hill. Yep, when she spits fire and brimstone at third parties, it’s admissable.

But don’t you daresay “there’s a breeze out there” as then you’re negative.

The life coach with the gold bar investments was swinging insults from the first time we spoke on the phone, till he came into a meeting and first repeatedly insulted me, then my innocent wife, does the lifeskills idgit have a death wish? Bloody fool.

I grew up in the company of a State President or two, cabinet ministers, captains of industry, CEO’s of national corporations, diplomats, etc. I was groomed to behave. As for how I got treated along the way, I grew weary and terminated NICE. Until such time that the dry bones of NICE stir, covers itself decently and live again.

Known as a patient gentleman, I’m no God and can and do “lose it.”

When the idgit on Twitter insisted we can choose how we feel.

Can we, really? After the 12th rock fall in the basal ganglia or after a piece the size of the first half of your thumb was crushed to pulp in the cerebellum? Go look at Prof Fowler’s skull markings what these things do.

One cannot blooming decide how to feel this morning if the emotions centre of the brain left a gaping hole in the wall on its way out. A blood clot avalanche can be convincingly destructive. And if you always feel dizzy, nauseous and as if your brain had clammed up or was vacuum packed, try tell me how uplifted and upbeat one should be feeling.

Add the effects of some things to people, see how they feel. I mention a few: amitriptylene, simvastatin, carabazepam, metformin, warfarin, urbanol, epilim, ritalin, oh hell, what else…..people survive on handsfuls of drugs, most with side-effects. Oh, tramadol is another they get prescribed.

So take a handful of that two, three times a day, never get real food and become malnourised. Considering the sparks that fly about in the brain, go sit on that rock and give yourself a pep talk. You’re the life coach now. Tell your body to, despite a hole in the brain, to pick yourself up and go frolicking down the hill like a white Labrador pup that got a dinosour femur for breakfast. Go feel bloody happy, jump with joy while you feel like vomiting because your balance is affected. As your own ingenious gyrocompass lives next to emotions and religion in your brain.

So, to the zealots of feelgood crap, eat this. Shut up and learn. Go to the library, go read that beautiful set of books intently studied by nurses, doctors, pharmacists, therapists and others with more common sense.

Next time, before verbally assaulting anyone, including on social media, bear in mind that you may by doing a crime, a form of discrimination called ableism. Don’t invoke the ire of one out of every five people you see. As that is how plentiful we are and we’re plain tired of your shit.



Travel Blog – Reviewing Bantry Bay Suites Hotel.

Dolce Far Niente. Doing absolutely nothing and doing so in great style at one of Cape Town’s scenic seaside resorts, in an enclave blessed with mild climes, very little wind and oodles of sunshine.

Penthouse suites have the loveliest rooftop suntanning and leisure gardens in complete privacy. Yes, you can be discreet and soak up some sun, but use that SPF 50. Read about it all here, see how to upgrade your next holiday stay

A Splendid Bantry Bay Lifestyle. Dolce Far Niente.



Going to California?!?!


I have been invited by GoogleMaps to visit California for the 5th international summit, as I am an active Grade 7 Local Guide. It is an all-expenses-paid trip. Yet I will need your help getting there.

I do need some sponsorships as follows:

– Hospitality partners wanting to promote *DISABLED FRIENDLY* and * PET-FRIENDLY* destinations or venues. This goes beyond being wheelchair accessible. Think of blind, deaf or otherwise less obviously challenged people.

– Themes such as Banting & Vegan, for example. Or “the best roast in town”. I need at least five restaurants that will be rewarded with a FREE blog review and social media exposure. This is an opportunity to showcase our City, starting with my own suburb.

– Data sponsorship for mobile data, I will need oodles of it. Uncapped LTE the best option.

– Incidental expenses already to prepare my application for GoogleMaps. This already is a great marketing opportunity for Cape Town or SA.

– Our 12x optical zoom digital camera was robbed from us within its first week.

I will need your help in finding me, suitable sponsors and candidates. I live with a disability myself yet have done my fair bit in the past to promote tourism in South Africa.


The Non-Gardener’s Gardens


As a toddler, we lived east of the Free State capital of Bloemfontein, roughly fifty miles on the road to Lesotho. (pron Luh-soooh-tooh) It was a flat plain with low hills, tall grass and very low bushes that afforded lamb meat that specially herby flavour typical of Karoo lamb. As our region was biologically a transition area between Highveld and Karoo.

We lived on a huge farm of well over 2,650 hectares. No, we didn’t own or farm it ourselves but enjoyed the ample space. Paradise to a child of any age. I spent the first seven years of my life there. We had our own fairly big yard of a few thousand square metres but nobody knew the demarcated boundaries. In front, we had lawns and a rockery, at the back and on one side a chicken coup as well as a vegetable garden, fruit trees, and a poplar forest. The chickens worked away all the organic kitchen waste and paid for it in fresh eggs and a roast chicken ever so often. We slaughtered them ourselves, in the backyard.

Veggies usually were beetroot, potatoes, carrots, any or all of the collards, Australian brown onions, pumpkins, sweet melons, watermelons. And we had our own beehives and something they seemed to guard with their very lives: strawberries. If you first walked through the strawberry patch and then idled along the beehives, they would soon turn your stroll into a canter if not a sprint. They would become furious with anger and sting. When we moved away 52 years ago, we filled our honey flasks and still have a few left, dark and sugared almost solid but easy to cure by placing it in a container filled with lukewarm water. It still is edible and very tasty. We also had prickly pears, a type of cactus. Peaches, apricots, prunes, plums, and figs. The fig tree was my favourite but it was young and didn’t bear a full harvest.

Then dad was transferred to where he grew up and we left our paradise behind, two weeks before my 7th birthday.


At first, we lived in a historical building that was built from 1823 – 1825. It was a huge two-storeyed mansion in typical British grandeur, built in a Georgian style. And that is where we were confined at the top back corner during the magnitude 6,3 earthquake that measured VIII on the modified Mercalli scale. It isn’t something one easily forgets, as there would be more right up to 1977. A seam of earth moved forward 26cm over a length of 20km. We lived apprehensively in that castle until some time a year later when my dad bought a house 5km from town in a newly developed township that had no central services installed. The initial French drain system was insufficient and I dug every afternoon after school and on Saturdays until we could build a new one. The soil was sandy with round boulders ranging from the size of a pea to a large watermelon.

We had to tame that stony, sandy soil that drained too easily so we borrowed a Ford F-100 V8 truck which proved inadequate as its supple suspension sagged all too easily. It brought one or two small loads of topsoil but we then decided to weld together our own truly one-ton capable cargo trailer. I was about 9 years old at the time. That trailer, tagging along behind the big Opel, carried home many a load of rich, dark loam soil and made compost from garden and kitchen waste.

We fed our garden as best as we could and bent our backs, sweated in the high summer temperatures usually north of forty degrees centigrade or during violent, temperamental winters with stormy NW winds and snow on the nearby mountains. The extreme climes resulted in healthy harvests from the vegetable patch, lovely carnations from beneath the kitchen window and all sorts of bulbs in bloom. My own pride and joy was the 37-species indigenous protea plantation. These shrubs are mainly endemic to that region and the soil was well suited. The proteas grew as if they were paid to. As a small boy, I sat outside in icy winds and watered them tediously, following a set pattern to save water and prevent evaporation in the gusty winds. Water, electricity, food – we didn’t waste anything, ever.


In Q1 1974, Dad went in support of a friend whose house was being auctioned upon his transfer to a job promotion in the city seventy miles away. Dad’s arrival coincided with the last bid and as he raised his finger to greet his friend, Dad bought a house unintended. At almost double the price we could afford, as teachers then were really not paid well. It was decades before occupational differentiation and its market-related salaries. So, the camper was sold, it went with said trailer, fishing boat, the used old 1963 fintail Merc….the Opel. We sold the lot and moved into town.

We moved onto 2,200 square meters of loam soil resting on very hard, deep clay. Not a pebble in sight. This is where we had irrigation furrows and irrigation turns. (Google cannot translate “waterleibeurte.”) This garden broke my 12-year-old back until I turned nineteen. Seven years od slavery while the other boys in the more affluent suburb had Raleigh racing bikes and roller skates.

I had soil to tame.

I grew a hollyhock to 4,1 metres tall. And we had a lemon tree that bore fruit 11 months and i week every year. We hardly ever didn’t have fresh lemon juice for cooking. Somehow, it never became lemonade – don’t interrogate me on this! We had a row of Waltham Cross grapes and I planted Chenin Blanc next to the compost heap. It only once bore fruit by the time we sold the house in 1991. One whole grape berry. I ate it.

I grew green beans. Lazy Housewife but especially the Contender variety. We had enormous harvests but I also planted peas, several types of tomatoes, potatoes, sweet potatoes, the collards as per usual, Australian brown onions, pumpkins, melons, watermelons, beetroot, mint, parsley, garlic and, of course, deciduous fruit and the ever-present prickly pear in that far back corner of the lush garden. When a car ran over my dog, a golden spaniel (we bred them), I “planted” it next to the fruity cactus yet no new dogs grew there. Just granadillas in abundance. So, in my childhood logic, I figured that spaniels became passion fruit in doggy heaven.

Pomegranates, what a waste of time to try to eat those unrewarding rocks. But we had quinces, a whole avenue along the southern fence. These gladly became quince jam (jelly in the US) or preserve usually eaten with custard or a locally made ice cream from the Rooikrans Dairy. My Belida apricots and the Royals neighboured the ever-bearing Kelsey plum (that got cancer in its trunk) and then my favourite Alberta peach nearby. I can sell my left ear lobe for an Alberta peach right now.

To my dismay, proteas didn’t grow regardless of extreme efforts at preparing the soil. My hydrangeas were of show quality and then I had nasturtiums, climbing roses, gardenia and then the famous Papa Meilan rose and its Chrysler Imperial ancestor side by side.

My lawns were cut with a precision usually reserved for bowling greens. I even worked out at which engine revolutions the little two-stroke Robin EC-10 machine had to run for maximum efficiency. The extensive lawn edges were all manicured, pedicured and groomed by hand, with large hedge cutter. A manual one, no little noisy engines or gyppo jobs.

In the Sweat of Thy Brow……….


I think we embarrass God in this way.

At some time or the other, I might get to a point in my life where I might have to be dealing with some issue. On a good morning, I’ll switch on the radio or less often the TV and find someone speaking about the same topic. For instance, Joyce Meyer might be saying something that answers my question. When I mention it to a random Christian, I’m almost guaranteed to get an inventory of Joyce’s carefully recorded comedy of errors. Or just a general rebuff. The fact that God answered my peayer and had given me an answer, entirely escapes the critic. One such critic beating on the Freemasonry drum and accusing from Andrew Murray to Ulrich Zwingly of being Masons.

None of us were given a specific a mandate to judge over Rick Joiner or Joel Osteen or Brian Houston. Moreover, who was tasked to judge and condemn? People ask why I don’t write about spiritual matters any more. It is simple: the most evangelical Christians are cold, exclusive and the only holders of absolute truth. Then, as devout critics, they freely judge and condemn while sowing dissention and raising suspicions. The very thing the Bible lists as a taboo.

How do you feel about a hurtful, damaging Christianity?


Shawn Says About Windows 10

Even as a devout fan who loves ManjaroLinux and LinuxMint, I must confess that Windows 10 is a great piece of work. I can almost say I love it. Almost.

It came up blank with no OS a few times after updates, once after 1909. Its EFI files went AWOL. So, reinstall I did. Even had to boot from a bootable Linux flashdrive to set a new MBR and partition from scratch, using GParted. The Swiss Army Knife of disk partitioning.

Windows 10 is fast and stable. That is what matters most. I still prefer the bundled software that comes with Linux, though.

MS Outlook is a pain in the nether regions yet MS Word and MS Excel shine. MS Powerpoint is powerful.

I have a particular liking in the Chromium-based Edge, also on Android. Ive been using Chromium for a decade now.

Here is the email from Shawn at Windowschimp:

As you all know that the new Microsoft Edge browser is based on Chromium. It makes possible to run Chrome extension on Edge browser. However, Google warns Edge users about security issue while downloading extensions from their webstore.

  • 15 Useful PowerShell Command for Beginners (Video) – Microsoft created the PowerShell for task automation and configuration management. If you want to learn the PowerShell and looking for some useful commands to start with, then watch this video.

Taaierlewers en Papwiele

My Mapstieks skryf hoe oulik sy is, lees net eers hier:


Nou my ewe ware storie.

Die sexy dingetjie klim uit die piepklein teminsilinder koreakarretjie, swaai haar heupies oordrewe toe sy naderstap waar ek onder die reuse frangipani staan.

Lyk nogal bemarkbaar. Mooi kindjie.

Toe klim hy ook uit. Arms soos beesboude, kakebeen wat ‘n quart bier sideways kan vat.

Sy glimlag liefies, flikflooi en vra met ‘n engelsoet stemmetjie in Afrikaans, in Sea Point, of ek haar bae kan help om die Koreaanse knuffelkoetsie se wiel “te verander.” Alles en almal, van ratte tot politiek, word mos deesdae “verander.”

Kakebeen met sy sterklykfrokkie kyk my smekend aan, met verlorenvlei in sy oë. Die wielsleutelvrees is erg. Ek sien duidelik nie wat die noodwielnimfie in hom raaksien nie.

Toe gaan vervang die halfkruppel kieriegesteunde geriatrikus maar self die noodwiel. Doodmaklik. Seker ‘n 135 x12 ou wieletjie wat ‘n spoor soos ‘n anoreksiese duisendpoot sal trap.

Ek het immers nie Boesmandrawings en paaldansers op my skouers laat inkteken nie.

En dis méér as Spaansriet wat op my bors groei.


Did Jesus Forbid Religious Titles?


We cannot downplay what Jesus means here. He clearly forbids His disciples seeking after and receiving titles for themselves or referring to each other by title, as the religious leaders of His day did.

Matthew 23:8-11

8. But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for one is your Teacher, and all of you are brothers. 9. Call no man on the earth your father, for one is your Father, he who is in heaven. 10. Neither be called masters, for one is your master, the Messiah. 11. But he who is greatest among you will be your servant.


Romancing A Rose

With its some 35 petals and near-black crimson velvet, the Papa Meilland rose isn’t your average little common garden rose.  No, it is perhaps the Chanel Number 5 of roses, or the Roll-Royce of the breed. A noble cultivar like the chardonnay grape.

The green, glossy rose bushes reminded of British racers with svelte luxury as afforded by the likes of Bentley.  A Papa Meilland rose isn’t found in bad company. It is elitist and lingers on through sunny summers to sublime autumn evenings. Its fragrance, even from one bloom, can fill a neighbourhood.


They are hardy and can survive adverse situations such as drought, heat, and disease. We lived where the tarmac often melted in late summer, after all, and our singular Papa Meilland bush enjoyed no shade.

Dad loves roses, to this day.  His little room in the old age home overlooks a rose garden, his closest spot to heaven this side of death. He is content and always tells of the different roses in bloom down below.

So, Dad said: “Son, observe and learn wisdom.”  Only he could pick a rose and cut it for the vase. The turquoise vase would be placed perfectly central in the ample home with its large rooms. In no time, the fragrance of the newly installed rose would permeate the entire house and reach into every hidden corner. Dad said a good woman is like that. One on;y ever picks one but love all.  One doesn’t touch roses but only sniff them, look at them to appreciate their beauty. Never bruise a rose.

Only when the rose dies one day, can it be replaced. But you will find that a crimson velvety almost black Papa Meilland a lingering rose, expelling fragrance even when wilted and with falling leaves. It is that good!

Today, I love women, love female company that goes beyond the dimension of main bearings and rugby balls. People with heart and soul embedded – and I love the vast majority of them. I appreciate their beauty and treasure their awesomeness. But I only keep the special one in the house, the others are free for the picking outside in the garden. I go greet them, love the smell and the beauty.  But that is as far as it goes.

My rose fills my home and my heart – saved my life in so many ways and is still doing so. I will not pick other roses or stroke their petals while her fragrance permeates all that is me.

Dad lectured well by telling me of a rose that had escaped the attentions of Fritz who came marching to capture the soil tilled by the greying Papa Meilland in WWII France. The old gardener sent carefully packaged rose cuttings to faraway Canada, from where his beautiful roses reached the ends of the earth.  Its fragrance filling the air around the earth,

I think this education is what our young really need. Give it to them, then.

Written by Pete with the love of Jesus in his heart.






Why I ditched #Linux for Windows 10

It didn’t take me long to ditch Apple. Too many inconsistencies.

Enter Windows ME and I was annoyed by the countless bugs. At around 2006, I started toying with Mandrake/Manjaro that came on some six or eight floppies. Then I bought a very sweet little Dell Inspiron laptop with Windows 8. Celeron chip with only 2GB RAM but it ran smooth, stable. I wasted no time installing a Start button.

The Dell was sold and then came a Thinkpad with Core2Duo and 3GB RAM. It had Windows 7 Ultimate 64-bit. Why people loved Windows 7, I cannot fathom. Just like Javascript, it hogged resources and slowed everything down. Its final transgression was the fact that neither dongle, printer, scanner or anything else had drivers for the 64-bit OS. Everything had to be replaced.

Screenshot (7)

I wiped the malware and installed Ubuntu but that soon changed to Unity Desktop which I detested and the distro crawl began.

  • AriOS from Iran, chatted to main developer Mahdi for a while
  • PCLinuxOS but they were rude and banned me for using a common African term “ubuntu” within context. I thought they were idiots and left.
  • Also tried UltimateOS and dealt with a nice Ozzie called Tom.
  • Makulu OS was quite a piece of work by a gent around Port Elizabeth, South Africa. A monumental task that worked well.
  • Pear or PeachOS, can’t remember, but they went belly-up soon
  • ZorinOS had a great support forum and friendly developers BUT the OS was plagued by bugs, so I left.
  • OpenSUSE was a disappointment as it was archaic and slow, basic and, well, basic.
  • Slackware PuppyLinux was nothing but a geek toy. Nobody wanting to be productive and professional could have taken it seriously.
  • Kali wouldn’t boot just as Kubuntu wouldn’t. And KDE Connect never worked.
  • Ubuntu Gnome was great
  • Debian messed up LibreOffice and Thunderbird, so I ditched it.
  • Linux Mint Xfce lost its own .ICE file and left me with a blank screen. I didn’t have internet access and couldn’t get to the fixes, so I wiped it and installed Mint Cinnamon. .ICE is the control code fo the X windowing system. No ICE, no windowing. Blank screen.
  • Linux Mint MATE (Matay) worked well but was really overtly basic.
  • ElementaryOS is just that.
  • Ubuntu, Kubuntu, Clonezilla all failed to boot after .ISO was burnt to USB with Rufus.
  • Linuxmint 19.3 Tricia installed and ran perfectly, updated like a charm, I installed Evolution mail that has since received a wonderful Google sync function for PIM. (Calendar, contacts, mail, etc.) It was so perfect, then I logged out and went to walk on the beach. Upon my return, I couldn’t log in as the login screen was flashing like a Christmas tree and nobody could enter the PIN.
  • So, out came the little 16GB Sandisk Jetflash and on went Windows 10 Pro, the machine’s original OS. It took almost 24 hours to be set up properly and just the last update was just short of 8GB data. I lost valuable sleep but persisted. I also have MS Office 2013 Home & Business on DVD and that installed quickly but Outlook is very quirky and not attractive at all. So I am using Windows’ own Mail & Calendar apps which are synchronised with Google in the People app.

Windows 10 runs almost as fast as Linux Mint 19.3 Tricia Cinnamon DE and there isn’t much of a perceivable performance difference for most of the time. It is stable, boots up rather quickly and executes tasks speedily. The i7 Quad core CPU with 8 threads is a boon and the *GB RAM and 256GB Samsung SSD do play their roles well. Going back to MS-DOS 5, this is the best OS from Microsoft ever. I am old enough to have started out with CP/M on a Sanyo MBC-1100 with 4KB or RAM! Driven by 2 floppies, no hard drive!! It had a ZX80-A 4MHZ CPU, 8KB ROM, 64KB RAM



Choosing the next distro…

Hi, I want to pick a few geeky brains here. I have been using Ubuntu, Zorin, Mint Cinnamon and sometimes PuppyLinux for different things. I need the following functionality:

  • Here is what I need:
  • Skype
  • Zoom
  • Teamviewer / Remote Desktop access from a Windows 10 machine or Mac
  • Telegram
  • WhatsApp

I am a Mint patriot and love the Cinnamon DE but it had terribly disappointed me a few days ago, having led to a flashing login screen after bootup that excluded me from signing into my own machine. I am a veteran of 42 years expereince from as far back as C/PM-80 but spent the past year recovering from cerebral damage and I want EASE in my life.

I prefer the DEB world to RPM and would like to keep it that way. I long for a funky destop with dials and speedometers and rev counters and things. Clearly, I need some suggestions here especially regarding the new distro’s. And, no, please don’t tell me to get ElementaryOS. I need a real OS.

Windows 10 Pro is sleek, smooth and fast, very stable but takes control of my mind and I don’t want to be led on a leash.


  • Lenovo Edge E540 i7Q 2.2 GHz
  • 8GB DDR3
  • 256GB SSD + 1TB RCT external USB 3.0 drive
  • Uncapped LTE-A

Luister Nou – RSG, dis die een!

Kliek op Luister Nou net langsaan die omroeper se foto wanneer jy kuier by http://www.rsg.co.za/

Vir expats oftewel die Perth Packers, die lekkerste manier seker om in voeling te bly. Dit is ook op een of ander Dstv-kanaal beskikbaar maar ek het nie dit nie, wel uncapped LTE-A. Dus luister ek aanlyn ook op TuneIn radio. https://tunein.com/radio/Fine-Music-Radio-1013-s6372/ Miljuisende stasies daar.

Ek luister ook na Overberg Stereo uit Bredasdorp en PerronFM van Darling. Soms Radio Pretoria, Overvaal Stereo en “lounge musiek” uit Amerika of Duitsland.


5 Things I Learnt This Year — lifesfinewhine

Since 2019 is almost over I thought I could do a few posts for the next few days about 2019 and what I learnt, some of my favourites and more. Hope you enjoy them! Stop saying it’s okay- One very important thing I learnt in 2019 is to stop saying ‘it’s okay’ when people say apologise. […]

5 Things I Learnt This Year — lifesfinewhine

You’re such a wise little owl! Thirty years ago, I easily could’ve crushed on you but the wisdom that comes with time rather let me enjoy your persona like a good oak-matured Cabernet Sauvignon. You ;earnt well in 2019.
I learned that life is precious, that it can pass in an instant – although I had a NDE in 1995 – and that a microscopic blood clot can cause havoc, change a personality and even affect spirituality. I also learned that children can be “too busy” to answer a phone and that older people can become very lonely.
I learned that millennials aren’t really computer literate but excel at AngryBirds and SnapChat. But nothing more. I learned that a Baby Boomer on a crutch can be very computer literate. I was approached by younger men, on visit from India, who watched me working on my laptop in a coffee shop. They wanted to know how I managed to be adept at Linux “at my age.” So I told them that guys “my age” are the ones designing and building computers for the kids. And gadgets.
I learned to approach total strangers and ask to take their photos. I am so shy around girls and I one day should write about my “missed opportunities” of 40, 60 years ago and become the laughing stock of WordPress.
I learned that God’s blessing manifests in a good wife, the best on the planet.
I learned about God’s forgiving Grace despite myself, regardless of me.
I learned that a Pooja abroad somewhere can be intelligent conversation.

In Sy Oomblik

In U almag, o Heer, hou U ons vas. Dit is U wat genesing gee, maar ook die kwaal toelaat, aansien gee en verneder, reën gee, maar ook die droogte. Soos die een, gee U die ander. Maar ons prys U vir die een en veg teen die ander.

U, Heer, U is ons God, ons Skepper en Verlosser. U het my die kleinste en geringste gemaak in U domein. Dat ek kan leer om te ry net wanneer U my taak, nie wanneer die gier my pak. Soos die Israeliet van ouds, trek as die wolk beweeg in die dag of die vuurkolom in die nag. Om net te neem wat ek kan dra en U het my gestroop van die aardse. U het my gestroop van ‘n groot huis, van dit wat daarin was, van dit wat dit aangery het. Ook my lyf het my verraai en kan nie op sy eie oor die weg kom nie. Ook daar is U stok en U staf nodig.

U, Here, het my die kaal profeet gemaak, die een wat moes gaan uitleef om te wys wat oor ander gaan kom. As hulle na my kyk en my minag, nie geweet hulle sien hulleself soos deur ‘n spieël in ‘n raaisel nie.

U het my gering gemaak sodat ek soveel keer op my einde gekom het, soveel keer by U voete kom lê het met die roep van Neem my lewe, laat dit, Heer, gaan waar U begeer.

Toe, Here, was ek verlaat en alleen, niemand wou my ken want hulle kry nog reën. My seun met die roep in sy oë, my dogter met die verlang in haar hart. Toe is hulle weg, gevlug vir die smart.

Soos Job, alleen gelaat, soos Job deur ieder gehaat. Maar tog het U gelei en ek mos agterna stap, soos skape agter ‘n herdershond. Hy kyk vorentoe, nie om hom rond.

Die hond, Here, het my van U geleer. Die Herder sonder staf, wat net vir slang en jakkals blaf, wat vooruit gaan en stofpad stap terwyl twee kuddes in sy spore trap.

Damaraskaap en boerbok loop saam agter U aan. Daar by my dorre Nigramoep, daar het U my stil geroep.

U volg ek steeds, deur dale van doodskadu, van geen oeste of lande om te saai, volg waar U lei, verby die eindes van myself, in U oomblik, in U plan. U het my net U gelaat, die res het my verlaat.

Waartoe, Here het U my geroep, wat is dit wat U verlang? Gee my Heer dan U plan, wys my waar om te trap, waarheen die volgende tree.

In hierdie oomblik in tyd, met niks wat my terug kan hou, volg ek U nou. Aan U voete soos Job van ouds, met as op die kop en met potskerf gekrap.

En toe die aanvalle kom en mense staan teen my op, keer op keer het U hulle oorwin en die regter skud haar kop. Ek het gesien hoe u red, in oorlog op die slagveld verhoor U my gebed.

Ja, Here, ek moes als laat staan, en net agter U aangaan.

Ek loof en prys U grote naam, selfs toe die wingerd faal en die vyeboom nie bot nie. As ek beheer had, dan was U nie God nie.

In die voetpad wat ek loop, van huis en haard gestroop, sal ek IN U bly hoop.

Dankie, Jesus, ek is losgekoop.


Adding Cinnamon to Windows 10 Pro

So I learned today that MS Outlook and Google Contacts don’t sync in Windows 10 Pro. And it is almost 2020 at the time of writing this.

Just yesterday, forcibly removed Kubuntu and expropriated its SSD without compensation, handed it to Windows 10 Pro, MS Office 2013 and had it updated beyond #1909.

Only to find my contacts won’t sync.

Right now, Mint 19.2 Cinnamon is running ever so smooth on my old Thinkpad Edge i7 Quad with 256GB SSD & 8GB DDR. And my external 1TB RCT hard drive.

Thunderbird with GContactSync, GHubLite & MHubLite gives me sync & access to whatever plus more.

Right now syncing my GDrive with ODrive over my uncapped LTE-A.

Feel like a cat blessed with fresh cream and a Norwegian salmon. As happy as can be.


Cara’s Peachy Salsa in Summer Down South

Food has to be fun in full colour.

I read the atlas, dictionaries and recipe books for leisure. As someone needs to be normal.

We had a peach tree, of the Alberta cultivar. Sweet, succulent green flesh with a loose, red seed. And ever so tasty. But South Africa is home to those orangey Kakamas cling peaches as well.

Not to disregard all the other peachy varieties. Heaven is a peach.

It is high summer down here, bikinis (or less) on the beaches, trails of ice cream running down kiddies’ faces, no Ferrari has a roof up.

Over here, we drink sunshine like water, as we most likely have the sunniest hours in one day on the planet. Old Spikes shines down and slowly roasts tourists to mild brown or lobster pink. That hurts 😁

But man has to eat and gelato with a peachy hint, or cold peach tea, becomes a drawcard. Which is why Caralyn’s colourful jamboree of taste here is the perfect idea.

And being of a different tongue and culture, Google had to teach me about the Romaine heart first.



Diluting Blood

Been on this since stroke #12 in September 2019. Had four cerebellar strokes in 10 months.

Have nobody I can ask……

Feel detached, fatigued, dizzy, have no energy or creativity. Studying towards teaching qualification and starting a travel business without any capital. Literally nothing except a laptop and a phone.

Can’t get myself to study or do online exams. Can’t get myself to write about my own great travels or the Jesus I love.  So, just feel like redundant war surplus, not exactly useful.

Prior to the September stroke and after the one in July, started earning some cash by doing deliveries to some posh clients in Cape Town. it was ideal for a fit, eighteen year old school leaver but I am a 57 year old with bad health and disability. Taxing the heart led to blood clots that had caused strokes.

The Warfarin is to prevent blood clots or to dissolve any existing ones. But could it be what’s so badly affecting quality of life?  If you have experience of this, please share your story.


Mediese Burokrasie Beïndruk Nie

Eendag is eendag.

Dan gaan iemand daardie hospitaal dagvaar.

Kaal uittrek totdat geen twee stene op mekaar staan nie.

Mense kan nie soveel trauma ervaar in die trauma-afdeling nie.

Die superintendent smeer alles hardhandig toe met ‘n brief wat feite verkeerd weergee en die belangelose mediese versorgers verontskuldig. Tipiese apartheidstyl burokrasie. In 2019. In die Wes-Kaap.








Ek vertel liewer nie my kant nie maar het my respek vir mediese sorg verloor.

Naskrif: in die peperduur privaathospitaal is haar peritonitis bloot geïgnoreer. Die dag voor haar dood is sy per ambulans na die bekende Kaapse privaathospitaal. Dáár het ‘n verpleegsuster luid van oorkant die gang na my ouers geroep “Meneer, Mevrou gaan mos nie weer terug nie.”

Dis hoe my ouers moes leer dat my Ma gaan sterf. En die mediese fonds betaal derduisende Rand.

Gevoelloos. NHI gaan dit nie regmaak nie en daarom stem ek daarteen.


Linux Mint Cinnamon 64-bit

Windows 10 Pro just found that it is now sharing real estate on my laptop’s SSD with Linux Mint Cinnamon 19.2 Tena. I did this after my newly acquired Microsoft ecosystem pulled even more tricks out of its filthy hat. It really is socially incompatible.

System Monitor showing performance
System Monitor showing performance

So I did the Windows trick of Windows Button + X and shrunk the partition on the SSD (more detailed but easy) and booted up from my trusty 16GB Transcend flashdrive. I made it bootable with the Mint ISO a few weeks ago.

Using the Something Else function, I installed the Minty stuff to the newly created partition, set it to / and Ext 4 file system.

The Samsung SSD was quite receptive and my new amiable OS was up and running in about 9 minutes. I have taken some screenshots and will add them in a day or two.

As is to be expected, I am over the moon with my Linux dual-boot setup. The OS uses about 900MB RAM, leaving oodles of the total 8GB for doing actual work. The eight CPU threads idle at no more than 14%, rather 5%.

More tomorrow, it is well after sunset here and this geek wants to watch Hawaii 5-0. Already posting from my phone.


Post Stroke Fatigue

A reader asks an online doctor somewhere in the country why her husband is so tired after stroke. The doctor answers with a long detour via a proposed internist (physician) visit but ignores the question. Medical science is still looking for answers.

Reader still hangs in the air, as does the question.

So I answer; from own experience. A dozen times.

If you could, you would be able to seep through the carpet like water from a garden hose. Anything, even Baroque music, to put it mildly, can totally exhaust you.

When I was thirteen, I walked more than thirty kilometers in one day, with 45kg on my back but never was I THAT tired. Not even when we hit the Breede Valley with heavy steel bikes against the North Boland’s Northwest winds. Sometimes the winds were too strong and the bikes had to be pushed or even carried.

The almost six thousand feet to the peak were also easy, both up and down. Always with heavy provisions on the back. Then conscription took one on a “field trip” and in two years, time they couldn’t get us as tired as like after a stroke.

Medical science is still guessing about what causes this fatigue. I do not understand how one single microscopic clot of blood can kill one. It is less exhausting to overhaul the garden.

And this is difficult.

My own suspicion is that the brain knows how to protect itself and the body. After my July stroke in the small brain, I wanted to sleep and when my late mother heard that “sleep demands sleep.” So: the more you sleep, the more you want to. Especially after strokes. It may just be a mechanism to limit overcrowding and possible greater damage. Especially if the stroke was caused by atrial fibrillation, I think.

I got up and accepted a temporary job. Hard, physical work that was also very stressful and would be suitable for a healthy twenty year old young man. They couldn’t find one and came to ask me. And I counted on exercising my body a bit.

Until the next stroke in September.

Leave the lawns. Let your car get a good Day Zero dirt as is the fashion in the Cape. Prune the hydrangeas and peaches next year. Or the year after. Respect your fatigue and do not let your wife or mother-in-law drive you to another stroke. Take it easy and calm, blog when you can or enjoy the bit of life you have through Grace. It may not be your best life.

Just your only one.


Medies: Moegheid na Beroerte

‘n Leser vra ‘n aanlyndokter iewers in die land hoekom haar man so moeg is na beroerte. Die dokter antwoord met ‘n lang ompad via ‘n interniskuiertjie maar ignoreer die vraag. Die mediese wetenskap soek steeds na antwoorde, dit vind jy aanlyn uit. Leser hang steeds in die lug, die vraag ook.

Dus antwoord ek; uit eie ervaring. ‘n Dosyn keer s’n.

As jy net kon, sou jy soos water uit ‘n tuinslang deur die mat kon wegsyfer. Enigiets, selfs Barokmusiek, baie sag gestel, kan jou totaal uitput.

Toe ek dertien was, het ek meer as dertig kilometer op een dag gestap, met 45kg op my rug en vir ‘n man is ek fyn gebou deesdae ook opgevul) maar nooit was ek SO MOEG nie. Nie eens toe ons met swaar staalfietse teen die Noord-Bolandse Noordwestewinde die Breedevallei platgery het nie. Soms was die winde te sterk en moes die fietse gestoot of selfs gedra word.

Die amper sesduisend voet tot op die piek was ook maklik, beide op en af. Altyd met swaar proviand op die rug. Toe neem PW Botha & Kie mens mos op ‘n ekskursie bos toe en in twee jaar se tyd kon hulle mens nie moeg kry soos na ‘n beroerte.

Mediese wetenskap raai nog oor wat hierdie moegheid veroorsaak. Ekself verstaan nie hoe een enkele mikroskopiese bloedklontjie mens so kan uitmergel nie. Dis minder uitputtend om die tuin om te spit. Dink mooi: een ou kleintjie en jy wil die vrekte vrek daarvan. Doodgaan voel verseker beter. Vrek klink moeilik.

En hierdie is moeilik.

My eie vermoede is dat die brein weet om homself en die liggaam te beskerm. Na my Julie-beroerte in die kleinbrein wou ek my doodslaap en toe my oorlede Ma hoor sê dat “slaap vra slaap.” Dus: hoe meer jy slaap, hoe meer wil jy. Veral na beroertes. Dit is dalk net ‘n meganisme om ooreising en moontlike groter skade te beperk. Veral as die beroerte deur atriale fibrillasie veroorsaak is, dink ek.

Want ek het opgestaan en ‘n tydelike werk aanvaar. Harde, fisiese werk wat ook baie stresvol was en vir ‘n gesonde twintigjarige jongman geskik sou wees. Hulle kon nie een vind nie en kom vra my toe. En ek reken toe om my lyf bietjie te oefen. Tot die volgende beroerte in September.

Los die gras. Laat jou kar lekker Dag Zero-vuil word soos in die Kaap mode is. Snoei die krismisrose en perskes volgende jaar. Of die jaar daarna. Respekteer jou moegheid en moenie dat jou vrou of skoonma jou dryf tot nog ‘n beroerte nie. Vat dit kalm en rustig, blog wanneer jy kan of geniet die stukkie lewe wat jy deur die Genade oorhet. Dis dalk nie jou beste lewe nie.

Net jou enigste.


How Unanswered Prayer Increases Your Faith

My urgent prayer for unequalled faith, prayed thirty years ago, went answered. Every other promise was postponed, or withdrawn?


Thirty years later, July 2018, as an indigent man, pay day came. Then my very Bible-believing business partner went off with my one percent. I lost $15m. For a destitute man, that’s more than a figure. Loss is measured in circumstance, not money.

A life purpose and calling dealt a severe blow. I literally didn’t have money for bread. It were animist believers and Muslims who opened their hands to help.

Where were the Christians? Can you see where faith gets tested? Obedience also. Jeremiah 6:27-29.

Yet the Word says God will make every promise come true.

Forget the religious gossip, then turn to Job 2 and start reading. The known story is in chapter 1. Don’t read to the end but live it.

As living like Job is my story.

Every aspect of it.

An unbelievable, extreme life not in pace with modern (im)morality and quasi-spirituality. The absolute opposite of materialism.

Living in faith may sound romantic. Go do the Luke 10 thing literally, practically. How far will you get and how long will you last?

What if your proclaimed faith gets confronted with reality?

My own life balances on a sharp edge. At one side, possibly the worst tale of dismal failure. The other side a story that’ll give Spielberg a run for his money.

A story that tells of KGB-style persecution, torture, kidnapping, unbelievable deception, rejection, everything negative and bad.

Yet Jesus crystallized from the murky fogs to stand in front of me, introducing Himself for Who He Is. Jesus isn’t what pastors try to make of Him. If they knew their Bible beyond what’s in print, they’d know.

Job said: “my eye hath seen the Lord!”.

Now, for a hint, read this excellent post on Unanswered Prayer.



Heart of Worship

Since around 2015 or 2016 I have been following Mirandia Wright on Daily Manna, only ever heard sound teaching and now installed Heart of Worship Church’s Android app on my phone.

As a Christian missionary myself and having been associated with Christian radio stations, myself having been on air more than often, the use of technology is always interesting. It is so much more cost-effective. HOWC has a great service that I’d like to demonstrate here.

Take a listen to the audio clip here, see how you like it.

Snotty Lockdown Service from RAIN Internet Service Provider during lockdown

rain Online Support

Muriel Mano

Customer Support

Chat started
Hi, I reached out and Rain never came back, received a message this morning that I’m in arrears. Iam disabled, have no transport to get to the bank to deposit money. I sit with the cash on me.

Customer Service
Hi, Welcome to rain, Kindly note that due to Eskom load shedding, you may experience intermittent internet connection. Restarting your device may re-establish connectivity. Also note that power may have been restored to your home however this may not be the case for the closest rain tower. Please refer to the Eskom website for the load shedding schedules at www.eskom.co.za

Hi , inkwazi777, Thank you for contacting rain. A support consultant will be with you shortly.

We apologize for keeping you waiting. Our operators are busy at the moment, please leave us a message with your email address and we’ll get back to you shortly.

You didn’t even respond to my previous emails and messages here……


Muriel Mano joined the chat
Muriel Mano
Hi, how can we help you today? =)

Morning, I live with disability, 15m above street level and no elevator. Locked down, own no car, the bank is a few km away, I have your CASH on me but how to get that R113.49 to you?? I can’t get to the bank to deposit it.

Muriel Mano
I am sorry to hear that you are experiencing issues with your payment , we however do not have an alternate method of payment currently.

Can you grant me extension until May 1, then, pls??

It is my ONLY communicatyions, I don’t have telephone here.

Muriel Mano
if payment is not received the services will unfortunately be suspended

Gosh, you know that Afrihost reversed my hosting fee without me even asking? How about a bit of humanity during lockdown or do you want me to write your attitude on my blog for thousands to see?

It is LOCKDOWN, a national crisis, not business as usual


Muriel Mano
we know that

Me: show ubuntu

Muriel Mano
unfortunately that is business rules

Me: snottiest business rules ever

Oortreders Sal Geskiet Word In 21 Dae ….

DR Christa van Staden skryf lekkerlees uit Qazaqstan, die plek met die hittegolf van een graad Celcius. 37 grade warmer as gister. Verstaan jy? Lees lekker by:


En nou bietjie kommentaar van my kant af:

Verskeie lande het vyf, ses dekades gelede reeds tuisskoolstelsels gehad.  Israel, Australië, Kanada, ens.  Party was interaktief dmv tweerigtingradio, ander was statiese leerplanne.  Dan word onnies nie geslaan nie. Of seun en meisie wat pouse gou oor die straat glip huis toe om twintig minute later hygend en blosend by die skool aan te meld. Funksionele biologie in speeltyd. Kinders is mos deesdae grootmense.

Ek het elke wegvakansie waardeer, dan is daar nie uintjies om uit te spit of vakkundige handboeke vir Pa se vak wat met tegniese sketse toegelig word nie.

Ek onthou lemoene by Zebediela, Mokopane se grot, katoen by Clercy, die Potholes, Strijdomtonnel, Long Tom Pas, God’s Window, Satara, Skukuza, Shingwedzi, elke olifant, kameelperd, gompou, waterbok, nyala of vlakvark wat ek ooit gesien het. Wildehonde wat rooibokkie van agter af opvreet terwyl haar voorpootjies nog maal in ‘n ylingse vlugpoging. Animals are our friends, animals are cuddly. Maar mens kan ruite nie eens een duim ver afdraai nie, cheetah en luiperd kan plan maak.

21 Dae van hongertafeltjies, soet, swart moerkoffie tussen Hopetown en Strydenburg, waar die telefoondrade hartseer sing.

Sekretarisvoël wat formeel stap, hoogmoedig, op soek na ‘n onverskillige ou rinkhalsie. 

21 dae van ontvlugting, weg van Pythagoras want Wiskunde is regtig Grieks. Of lekker tongknopers en ‘n sensasionele slaapwandelende Lady Macbeth, gesien deur die oë van Roman Polanski.  Matriekseuns kry ook verrassings op skool.

21 dae van skape se stertkante skoonknip, doseer met ‘n spuitkannetjie, of die magiese kuns om ‘n melkkoorskoei uit die dood te laat opstaan. Of om jou arm te sny op ‘n see-anemoon by Black Sophie en perlemoene so groot soos Kewerwieldoppe wettig en met permitte, twintig voet diep te gaan uitduik.

21 Dae van bok bekruip en agterna biltonge ophang, want blesbok by The Meadows of springbok naby Meiringspoort maak lekker droog.

21 Dae van duisende voet klim tot by die Thomas-hut, of smal grondpaadjies by Stettynskloof of die Oubergpas. Hitler se ou groot, swaar vlerkieskoets ry sag en ver.

21 Dae wat my steeds inspireer en voortstu vyftien meter bo straatvlak in my katstad waar ek my eerste meelogie op ‘n tak gesien sit het vanoggend; ons het 2018 hier ingetrek en sien nie inheemse voëltjies nie, totdat dit buite stiller raak en die enkele ou klein veervoetjie op ‘n takke twee meter van my venster af kom sit. Om binne-aars te sit lag vir die geïnterneerde stadsmense.

Vandag waardeer ek my onderwyser-pa se reisbeleggings in ons. Hoeveel kinders is gewys hoe lugversorging werk deur te toer deur ‘n deelsvoltooide Goue Akker of Tygerberghospitaal, hoe ‘n damwal se tonnels binne lyk of hoe water gesuiwer word by Stettynskloofdam, Steenbrasdam of by Riverton aan die Vaalrivier? 

21 dae van waag waar mense skryf OORTREDERS SAL GESKIET WORD want dan moet daar iets moois wees om te sien.

Jou kinders sal onthou, Christa.

Why women kill – ‘n nuwerige reeks op DSTV


Wens ek kon dit kry, ons het net ‘n paar kanale en SABC.  Maar ons is nie televisiekykers nie en het vir meer as 20 jaar nooit een in die huis gehad nie.

Byl verwys moontlik na baasspeurder Piet Beyleveld.

Stories soos dié van Daisy de Melcker fassineer my.  Heelwat vroue is gewelddadig, alreeds met die tong en met gesindhede, maar rand ook ander fisies aan. Mans rapporteer dit nie want hulle sal uit die hof gelag word. Intussen word baie mans vermoor en word hulle ingekerker onder enjinkappe in garages waar hulle lewende lyke gebalsem word met brannas en kouk.  Party se lywe word ook vermoor. Sommige vroue is fisies gewelddadig, het dit ongelukkig al self gesien gebeur in ‘n gesiene, gesofistikeerde huishouding en in hoër middelklashuise. 

Op mannekampe sien ek die stukkende cowboys wat dáár kom hulp soek en heling vind.

Geslagsgebaseerde geweld het meer fasette as net dié wat die hatige media aanblaas.

Creation an Act of Love


As only the Almighty God can ever be Awesome

In the beginning was the Word

And the Word was with God

And the Word was God

When we read further along John 1, we see that the Word is Jesus.

Or, like some of my Messianic Jewish friends refer to Him, “The Living Torah.” Torah meaning instruction.

Jesus, Creator-God, the Living Word. And, as He had said, “before Abraham was, I AM.”

And He is Love, as God is Love.

And He created out of His fullness, out of His sufficiency.

Love has a need, a want, a desire, to be shared. Creation was Good but with the proviso that Mankind didn’t eat from the Tree of Life and of the Tree of Knowledge of Good & Evil. Forget the kindergarten idea of an apple tree, that is as fake as the three wise men.

No, like so much else, there was figure of speech.

So mankind sinned, which means that man went against God’s instruction or direction, and gained ancient wisdom that was rooted in Satan. And the result is that earth was cursed, causing seasons and the need to eat meat, the guarantee that rivers and oceans would die and that pestilences would prevail, natural disasters would follow.

The life is in the blood. Blood, pure blood, had to come pay for man’s sin. So God told Adam and Eve that He would have to die for their sins and, therefore, He was born into a human body that was blameless.

That body went up the hill of Getshemane one day, maybe two millennia ago, and paid the price.

The innocent blood was shed. REDEEMED us by substituting Himself for us. The sacrificial Lamb of God.

Therefore, nobody comes to the Father except through Jesus. People were healed instantly, raised from the dead, the curtain in the temple tore. Thousands of years of layered sin upon sin could not withstand the power of His redemptive blood. The weight became too much and the division was taken away.

Ever since, God has had an open door policy as we could go straight to Him, no need for brokers in between. No elders, priests, rabbi’s or pastors needed as we can now speak directly to His face. He pardons, He gives absolution, and He Alone. Beware fake imitations.

The Bible doesn’t teach us to worship Abraham, Moses or Paul. Nor does it tax us to seek the broker services of the Pope or Mary, but Jesus.

Yes, creation was perfect and, when this earth shrivels away in a ball of fire, we will live with Him on the new earth in the new heavens.

Yes, Creation is an act of Love.

Back to Windows 10, ditching Linux again!

As a retired man who really only needs a typewriter, using a computer doesn’t call for anything that could fly to Mars. There is no need for the Incredible Cyber Hulk. As for gaming, I don’t go beyond Solitaire Klondike. Quite proficient at Easy level. I rather walk on the beach or do something out of doors, even when others think the weather is “bad.”

Weather never is bad, God doesn’t make mistakes. Weather is always perfect, dress accordingly.

I need something like Notepad or Wordpad to run, just a very basic text editor that can save in .txt format. That summarizes my computer needs.

What I have, is a bit more sufficient than that. I run a Lenovo Thinkpad Edge E540 with an Intel i7 Quad core 2.2 GHz CPU, 8GB DDR3 1600MHz RAM, NVidea GT740M 2GB DDR5 graphics, a Samsung 750 256GB SSD and a RCT 1TB USB 3.0 external hard drive. This came with MS Windows 10 Professional and MS Office Home & Basic 2013 which has OneNote, Outlook, Excel, PowerPoint and Word.
Something important: I set my software to auto-update, always, for security updates more than anything else.

In my former IT career, one that had started in 1982 with teenager play since the first Sinclair computers, ZX80, ZX Spectrum, Commodore64 and even programmable calculators from Sharp and Hewlett-Packard, I only twice had computer infections on my systems. None of these were serious and I easily removed them by hacking into the system registry. My email account was compromised by LinuxMint, my Yahoo account was hacked into via openSUSE Linux and that summarizes my falling victim to malignant cyber activity.

My family trust was badly compromised by means of identity theft but the criminal used a printed letterhead and a fax machine, nothing more tech than that.

A dreadnought chunk of obese, lethargic code called Windows 7 Ultimate 64-bit angered me into switching to a different operating system. Why people loved that heap of crap, is beyond me. I distrust anyone who saw it as God’s gift to computerkind. Such people can steal hub caps, bounce cheques and molest little five year old girls.

I went the Linux way and first took to Mandriva, then Ubuntu, Mint in all its guises from KDE to Xfce, finding the sweet spot in Cinnamon. As I used my 3G USB dongle to set my laptop up as a wireless hotspot, Cinnamon just did that so much better than anything else.

I tried AriOS, PearOS, Zorin, Ultimate, Makulu, Slackware Puppy, PCLinuxOS, openSUSE, Fedora, Kali and the like, all-in-all 28 distro’s that I got to know intimately and then some.

As I love things to be simple, I wanted something as smooth and stable as my former Windows 98 SPII Release C, a rare OS that was soon replaced by Windows ME, if I remember correctly.

I invested in Windows 2000, which was satisfactory and more reliable than the ever popular Windows XP. I always used MS Office but once bought MS Works and MS Money.

I deleted Windows 10 Pro after it stole several gigabytes of expensive LTE data over a metered connection, it was set NOT to do. It took my month’s entire data plan, leaving me with data dongle drought.

For long, I dual-booted my existing laptop with Windows 10 Pro and then, at different times, installed Kubuntu, Ubuntu Cinnamon Remix, FerenOS, Mint with Xfce, MATE (matay), Cinnamon and then also Manjaro with KDE. Of these, Manjaro stands out as the better distro and I think I would have kept it if it wasn’t for the KDE that had its own quirks.

Linux Mint Cinnamon has always been super reliable but I ran into trouble with it when my 19.2 won’t even let me access the LOGIN window. I simply couldn’t sign into an interface getting juggled all over the place. Its Tricia 19.3 infuriarated me by March 19, 2020, that I started from USB, opened GParted and deleted the entire Ext 4 partition. What it did was to mess up my Nivdia drivers to result in a 2005-like smeared display. Inexcusable, I wanted to write something but couldn’t.

When I then wanted to install Mandriva as I had that handy on a flash drive, its installer crashed. Guess what happened next……….
Out came that precious little Sandisk Sanjet USB flash drive and on went Microsoft Windows 10 Pro. It really is a well engineered OS, very light and fast. Same as my Linux Mint Cinnamon 19.3, it boots into about 1.5GB RAM and runs very stable. Linux users may get a perceived experience of their preferred OS. Microsoft really did it this time. It boots fast, runs well and the only gripe are those huge updates.

What I simply love, is the new Edge browser that also does Android, as I use Oreo on my phone. The new Microsoft Edge, like Google Chrome, is based on Chromium browser, an open source project that I had come to learn to love. I am no radical and not into the Tor stuff or trying to hide from the NWO, simply because I don’t have anything to hide.

And, to put my money where my mouth is, I just wrote this entire article in ancient Microsoft Wordpad. You won’t find it in a menu in Windows, just type Wordpad at the run prompt and it will jump out instantly.

Meitaki Maata

That is Maori for “thank you.”

Thank you for stopping by and reading my blog, for the oftentimes WordPress would write to say my blog is trending, or causing a stir. When they notice your visitor activity.

It is you, the reader, that brings value, not me, the keyboard operator. As it is your presence, not mine, that gets counted.

I dream of writing golden winged words that soar without flapping. In reality, it more often are words that are happy to escape the dungeons of my mind. After that horrid day in 2019, several hundreds of you decided to follow here, to my utter surprise. I do, however, appreciate everyone latched on to my verbal discourse.

So, here we are. Also please follow at GlamTrains.

Thank you, for YOU.

RAIN 4G 5G Uncapped Data

In our lofty apartment building, I can’t have FIBRE installed as they would have to break through the insulated FIRE ESCAPE. And that would be illegal.

I did have the very last Webafrica uncapped LTE, a smoothly running Telkom product, provided by a sponsor I was in business in with. His mother company in the East went belly-up and left me datally challenged. Used to gliding through 250GB or more per month, I now ground to a halt, trying to squeeze Life of Pete into 300 minuscule megabytes per day. It is like going from a nude suntan to minus fifty degrees Celcius at the flip of a switch.

So I ordered a RAIN SIM-card that offers me uncapped 4G at speeds of up to 20mbps, more than good enough for me.

RAIN isn’t well-known as they only do data, incl FIBRE, but no voice or peripherals.

I an going to use an existing mifi hotspot and will update you on progress as and how it happens.

Have a RAINy day!


I am not allowed to refer to the several myopic investor-partners who had run off with my total material means, as the life coach say that is negative. So don’t revisit the situation to learn from it what is to be learnt, just waste the exercise and let others fall into the same traps without forewarning. That’s selfish. I’d say it is rather prudent to learn from mistakes.

Please note: I don’t grovel in self-pity, I hate pity parties and I don’t refer back to those things with a pang.

We learn as we go and that’s how we grow. Right?

One always tries to be inoffensive, yet not all prefer that way. Some boldly claim the right to use bad language while expressing opinions about others’ food preferences, religious beliefs, etc. What they actually do is judging others, one doesn’t have to rudely push your opinion into the faces of all others and disrespect who they are. I have trouble with this, as I am prone to let slip rather unsavoury words as a result of a little something that got damaged in the brain. The very same part that can’t keep me upright when walking, always.

If people suddenly got the Corona Fright and then moved to reconcile with Jesus, their Creator, so be it. Good for them, as repentance never was a bad idea altogether. Or should only the healthy go to hospital, see the Doctor, get treated, their wounds stitched up? It would be very arrogant and unloving to judge them for their wisdom. May the one that judge the quickest should have been the first one to do some introspection and repented. But if one is so busy judging the world around you, you obviously won’t find time to wipe the soil from your own face.

And, if people make right with God, why must some bush baby come and swear at them, ridicule them and make them look bad, is if they are fake? How fake is the critic, then? As the critic, rather obviously in the wrong, is now a BETTER PERSON than the “stupid others.” Okay, so here we go, we have that superiority thing again. Few things on this planet peeves me like that. Do you even realise that there is only God’s Grace making the difference between sleeping in your bed and sleeping outside under a piece of cardboard? Do you know that your great career can be cut short in an instant?

Someone who does not understand the Spirit of God will perceive its as “they got religion” without even beginning to realise the miraculous restoration work God does in a human. Please refrain from mocking others if your own depth is very shallow.

Anyone who boasts and laughs should turn their laughter and scoffing into tears and do some serious introspection. None of us have earned the right to rile, ridicule and slander. Those who slander their Presidents in public really don’t make themselves look good. Personally, I find the slanderous rants disgusting and those who do that on Twitter and Facebook are terrible ambassadors not only of their political states but also of God’s Kingdom. As they shame and embarrass all.

May we please advocate for civility and more amiable ways to coexist?

A Slutty Vegan Sauce

Taken from Lifesfinewhine’s eloquently garnished post at https://wp.me/p6uCcB-1D1

This inoffensive Vegan writes chuckly stuff such as “For dinner I decided to try something new! I made a beyond burger (which isn’t new I have those all the time lol) with something called the slutty vegan sauce.” (My emphasis.).

I regularly don’t eat Vegans and my late Mom warned against anything slutty. This has to be a ground-breaking pioneer recipe. I guess that burger is just beyond me?

Timing Your Blog Post

Here’s to the 400 Method. A really great read that’s ancient desiderata proving that who shouts loudest, will be heard first. He gives a grid for those weekly posts but neglect to say whose time zone he refers to.

It is 7am as I write here, yet someone in the UK is embracing his loved one as he’s at 5am and the blogger in Kentucky stretches and yawns as midnight strikes. In Osaka, the Three Bears have a 3pm drive home to avoid afternoon rush hour.

Do we base our blogging timing on Greenwhich Mean Time, EST or Pacific? Rarotonga is exactly twelve hours behind. Cape Town and Cairo are twelve hours ahead of Aitutaki.


Toortsie Skryf….

As ‘n man begin resepteboeke lees, moet jy wéét daar is iets in. Ons het nie ‘n oond nie en ons kombuis is kleiner as party mense se skinkborde, dus kan ek nie alles gaan uittoets nie. Maar ek kan meer as net braai of eiers bak en my lus hang uit as ek met haar boek in my hand sit.

Vyftien jaar terug het ek ‘n gewone dorpskombuis gehad met ‘n baie groot vuurherd daarin. Toe het ek natuurlik my drie swart ysterpotte goed benut.

In een van hulle het ek gereeld drie hoenders tegelyk gaargemaak, meer oondgebak as iets anders. Want ‘n pot is nie ‘n kastrol nie, maar ‘n oond. Die hitte kom bo.

Ek het baie bredies gemaak, niks geweet van Banting nie maar heel toevallig van nature min of meer altyd die filosofie gevolg. Tensy daar nou patats oor my pad gekom het.

Bobotie was my ding, op die outydse manier, en nie die vaalbleek gebakkie wat jy in ‘n vriesboksie koop nie. Maar my eintlike speelgoed was waterblommetjiebredie en Contender-groenbone uit die tuin. Daar moes óf vet skaaprib inkom of die brisket van ‘n ou verskalfie. Lekker bruin gebraai tot die buurt se honde onrustig is van die lekker vleisgeur. En ek roei ‘n hele rooikrans-indringerwoud uit in my breëbekoond. Man moet mos vuur hê.

Op ‘n dag lê daar ‘n Toortsie in die posbus. Sy self skryf “Mans is ook lief vir die lekker kos in my boeke” en ek sweer onder eed dat sy die volle, hele reine waarheid praat.

As jy hou van regte kos en nie daardie moderne argitekontwerpte versinsels nie, kry gerus Toortsie se lekkerbekresepte vir jou.

Skaapboudtjops, lekker boerewors, braaiboud, bobotie, heerlike groentegeregte – en dan is die aanbieding manjifiek. Om kos af te neem, verg ‘n goeie fotograaf. Die foto’s in haar boeke is absoluut topklas. Fees vir die oog.

As jy ‘man is, sal jy dit geniet maar my vrou is ook gaande daaroor.

Die foto is nie uit Toortsie se boeke nie, dis my eie.



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