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The Lioness, the Elephant and the Trojan Horse Part 2: The Lioness

photo: Herman Nel (fellow hiker) 1987

Imagine this. You and a few friends are taking a leisurely stroll in the bush when a lioness suddenly charges at you. What do you think you would do? What would you actually do? What should you have done?
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Please care enough to criticize someone you like

If I don’t get criticized soon, then things are going to become critical around here. Read more

Facts don’t really matter

It’s amazing what so many instant, live, on-demand media sources have done to our collective understanding. Or lack thereof. Surely you have noticed how many different interpretations there are of the same event happening at the same time and in the same place.

If you haven’t noticed, Read more

Discovering The Valley of Plenty

photo: Ray Hattingh 1st August 2013

(This is an extract from the book-in-progress: Bull in the Valley of Plenty: Selected bog reading matter from the defunct Kasteel Kronikel)

Some time ago, around 1660 AD to be exact, a man stumbled upon a beautiful valley slightly more than an hour’s drive from Cape Town. (If you are one of many geographically challenged readers, then know that Cape Town is in the very Deep South. (Of Africa, not of the USA. (The Deep South of the USA is a completely different country. (In the same way, that America is not a country, but a continent.))) In a country cleverly named South Africa. Know also that, through a quirk of geography, Cape Town is not really close to the southern most tip of Africa. (Know also that Cape Town is not a town. It is a city.) (I will now pause for those readers who wish to check that my brackets are correct.)

Of course, back then it took him, the man who stumbled upon the beautiful valley, a lot longer than an hour to stumble all that way to where the beautiful valley valleyed. (Strictly speaking, it is more a dale than a vale, because no river runs through it. A stream, yes. (The difference between a river and a stream is that a river runs to the ocean, whereas a stream runs to a river. But many people will not agree with that explanation, because to them the difference lies in the size. Once I would have been tempted to say to them that size is not everything. However, since then I have seen the size of rivers in the USA. I remain convinced that the valley has a stream running through it, even though this stream does run to the sea.) So I should not say ‘valleyed’, but ‘dallied’, which is what I did there for a number of years. If you keep turning the pages, scrolling your screen, you will discover not only when, but also why, and with whom, I dallied in the valley.)

Today the history books have it recorded that this man’s name was Peter Cruythoff (no, not me. The man who first stumbled into the valley, the valley where I dallied) and that he was on a journey of discovery. Sure, historians and book editors can call it discovery. We full-blooded males know that Peter Cruythoff was lost. We also know that back then the place was rather empty, apart from lions and zebras and rhino and wildebeest and baboons and snakes and so on, which meant that there was no one of whom he could ask directions. Even if he was so genderly inclined, that is. (No, Dear Very Young Reader, he did not have a GPS nor a cell phone with voice-activated stumbling directions. We are, after all, talking about an era when an apple was an apple.) And so he kept on keeping on.

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The mentor’s dilemma

Have you been on a bicycle lately? No? Yet, I am sure, you still know how to ride one.
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