Comments revealing a heart of darkness

Passing time on stories

Sweeping through new stories on my mobile phone as both a form of distraction and maybe disinterest until some usual clickbait headline catches your eye, you delve into it just to read what is being talked about.

Much as I am not into celebrity culture, there is always something to arouse your curiosity and once you have read the story, it never really ends with the story, as you are forming opinions of what you have read, you move on to the comments and that is where you get a feel of reactions to the story.

Comments in the heart of darkness

Reading one such story around a celebrity speaking candidly about their family situation, the first few comments that followed were dismissive, vitriolic, nasty, and horrible. They got me thinking about whether those comments were a reaction to what they had read or a projection of who they were.

The unnecessary nastiness towards people you do not know or will ever encounter in life never ceases to amaze me. How people just need to think ill of others, castigate and excoriate them and have the considered intention to reveal reprehensible views in these commenting sections is a mystery.

Saying nothing at all

I am of the disposition, if you have nothing good to say, say nothing, keep your counsel and let sleeping dogs lie. Where I have felt animosity toward others, I try to reflect on why I feel that way, consider why I have been unable to gain a better understanding and perspective of the person, rationalise the differences of circumstances and hope that it is not elements of the deadly sins seeking expression in my words and thoughts.

Obviously, there are other matters that would elicit comment which in my case would tack towards a generalisation in lessons for our humanity or if I may use football parlance, I got for the ball rather than the man. You might inadvertently foul the man, but it is rarely, if ever, intentional.

Finding light in the dark

Maybe, just maybe, it is a personality trait along with the excess of indolence that drives people to reveal much more of themselves by expressing views about others. It is that finger-pointing paradox, with one pointing out and your other fingers at yourself. If you should have to point with your four fingers and thumbs, it looks like an outstretched hand, one giving directions rather than an accusatory poise.

I sometimes wonder why I read some comment sections because they are majorly depressing and do not help the best of our nature. Yet in the mess of the unwholesome comments are gems of enlightenment and wisdom, they excite and encourage, hopefully, we catch them early before a pall of discouragement descends on our view of the other person.

Opinion: Who owns the public conversation?

My view is gone

One thing I dread about social media spaces I do not control is the loss of views, opinions, replies, or comments I have posted to status initiated by others. You cannot control how others moderate their spaces whether they decide to edit, delete, or hide what you at one time publicly contributed to.

Obviously, one does not want to make a habit of journaling every comment posted, but the danger is there that if you contribute something substantial, you first have no control over the situation and might well lose it when you return to check if others have contributed, validated, or repudiated your comment, only to find that the whole post with the original thread has gone.

Who owns the public conversation?

I first became aware of this risk some years ago after a contribution to a post on Facebook that was soon deleted, there have been several instances of lost responses on Twitter, only yesterday, I was somewhat bereft when a show of support towards a broken relationship by relating my own personal experience was gone, the whole thing with the almost 200 comments attached.

It is very well the prerogative of any person to decide on what to post, entertain commentary, moderate participation, and consequently remove that post if they are so inclined. However, the question becomes when you have made a view public and people have contributed, in comments, views and responses, are you now the sole proprietor of that public commons to do as you wish without recourse to others who have engaged?

Again, this is not to remove autonomy or agency from the individual owners of social media spaces, if I have attended a party at someone’s place, the person can politely ask me to leave, however, what is indisputable is I attended regardless of what evolved at the party. Unfortunately, that imitation of life in social media is not readily present.

At the mercy of

The original poster might remove a posting and put a placeholder in its place indicating why the posts and comments were removed, but that would be an extended view of courtesy rather than a strict requirement. Then, thinking about this, there is the possibility that conversation landscape is reduced out of the fear of the possible loss of one’s voice in an engagement that we choose not to contribute substantially apart from post easy platitudes.

Alternatively, we keep a record of everything we have posted or offer a broader commentary in our owned spaces with a link in the comments where we would have posted to people to read our views. Obviously, if the original post is deleted, we still have our opinions intact, even if the apparent context and setting for that comment is lost. My reticence is triggered, I might well be less forward in contributing to other spaces.

Too much wine down the spittoon

Traipsing a new wine trail

Having missed out on understanding the essence of the Garden Route wine trail in not visiting a wine estate, or a distillery as there were many in that area, we decided we’ll do at least tour of wine estates close to Cape Town with the view to doing something different.

We booked a tour on Monday night and had a phone call informing us that our tour guide would be round to pick us up from our apartment at 9:00 AM, we were up and ready well before that time, thinking we were going to join a tour group on a bus, but it soon dawned on us as we drove out of Cape Town that we were on a privately chauffeured tour.

We arrived at Meerlust at 9:30 AM, Felix, our tour guide thinking we were up for wine tasting at that time. I could not countenance the idea of swilling alcohol that early, I come from a good home, we cannot be tasting wine at that time. Even as we saw people walking towards to the tasting rooms, we did a U-turn and continued our journey to other wine estates.

Music for posh wines

De MorgenZon (Established 1699) in Stellenbosch was acquired by the Applebaum’s in 2003 and they have a penchant for playing classical music to the ears if they exist of the grapes to make fine wines, at which point I was rolling my eyes. Apparently, according to Kudzai, the sommelier who conducted the wine tasting at our table, the vibrations from the music help the vines.

When I visited the restrooms, there were music scores on the walls leaving one captivated by both the familiarity and the strangeness of the music. Some new knowledge we gained was that for certain wines, the grapes were pressed with the stems to give that lemon zest taste.

My question was whether this excursion into the musicology of viticulture had made allowances for changes in vintage if the genre were hip-hop, blues, or jazz, for which no research could be provided. However, the vines were on Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart on our visit, the day before, they were given a serving of Antonio Vivaldi, to which I quipped as the weather was changing, if it was The Four Seasons.

A platter to clatter

Next, we arrived at Neil Ellis, a rather modern looking setup where we were told by the Tessa, the sommelier that they mostly buy in their grapes, though they have recently come into possession of a number of vineyards. Then again, this would suggest the wines made here are down to winemaking skills than the end-to-end from planting to bottling or core viticulture.

We availed ourselves of the platters of cheese, Parma ham and somewhat bland melon, but of the wines we tried, we came, we saw, we drank, we left. Nothing more to be said than the evident prospect of no return. Thank you.

At Haute Cabrière (Established 1694) in Franschhoek, by Pierre Jourdan for whom their Methode Cap Classique wines are named. Bongile, the sommelier, whose name attracted a twisting fate of mispronunciation, was helpfully at hand to explain as we took in the amazing mountain views from the tasting room. The bubbles go to my head.

Down a snake-winding staircase to the view of a cellar of barrels in a temperature-controlled room. To the right, the gents with urinal bowls full of ice cubes that creaked to the heat of your urination. Dare I say that might have been the highlight of my visit to this wine estate. We cannot for the snobbery of wine accept as good what our taste does not perceive, regardless of the medals earned from wherever.

Just at the very last

We invited Felix to have a late lunch with us in Franschhoek before visiting the last wine estate on our itinerary, Rickety Bridge (Established 1797) which for all its old money looks as part of an old estate La Provence now had such avant-garde names for their wines as Printer’s Devil from a few decades ago. In my own opinion, the range of wines were without character, though almost with distinction in aroma and definitely not in taste.

On being asked about my assessment after tasting 4 wines, I suggested they were a bit arboreal, a word our sommelier whose name I cannot recollect might not have understood, having not been provided with a spittoon, we had poured it all down the roots of a tree by our table.

The fifth wine had desperate attempts at effecting character but coming short in defining itself, that it verged on the quite truly forgettable. She returned with a Pinotage that did go down well, the first glass of about 25 wines that I had tasted in the day that I drank all up. Much as I sympathise with the winemakers along with the art, craft, and expertise involved in making their wines, to the individual, it is down to taste, palate, and comfort, one man’s poison is another man’s elixir. C’est la vie.

Thought Picnic: Be a fool, quietly

Abuse is free like air

Now, I have been at the receiving end of all kinds of abuse that it is a waste of mental energy to begin to find categories or classifications for those different types of abuse. What has mattered is how I dealt with abuse, the ones I could to run from, the ones that caused harm, the ones for which I was equipped to withstand, or the ones for which maintaining my counsel was the higher moral ground. Abuse, in the end, will not define me.

However, on reading a story and commenting on it on Twitter, I thought giving my views a bit of flesh on a blog can be useful. Some might say, having seen some of my blogs that I have opinions and many of them. I probably have many more than I have dared express and I hope that is the beginning of wisdom.

Be at home with your thinking

A football player based in Canada decided to go on a homophobic rant on Twitter, reinforcing his views with more deeply held opinions, and don’t we all have the urge to say just what is on our minds without let or hindrance? It is a free world. [Queerty: Football player goes on antigay rant, says he doesn’t care about getting fired, gets fired]

I would have felt that his being on a football team meant that he understood the rules of football and he was a good player. Also, as a Canadian resident, and I do not care to check if he is native or immigrant, this is a matter of knowing where you live. He could not have been unaware of the societal needs to accommodate diversity, no matter how diverse from his worldview.

Know when you’re mouthing away

I was a bit surprised that as a football player, he appeared not to know the difference between playing home and playing away. I would even aver that, in Canada, when expressing homophobia, you're quite dangerously playing away and not at home where your supporters would cheer you on to score a goal.

Basically, as I continued my Twitter thread, I stated, there are certain antics you never get up to when playing away, the consequences of which might be dire and grave for your team and the little troop of supporters that showed up for the away game. Therein is my lesson in football etiquette.

The unerring winds of social backlash

We live in times of the instant consequence for the slightest infractions, not to talk of the gravest sins of commission that would land in the docket of the unforgivable. By all means, you are free to have any opinion, it takes another force of providence, insight, intuition, or just reticence to realise you just need the discipline not to express every opinion you have.

I concluded, speaking more to myself than to others, in terms of expressing views that are discriminatory, exclusionary, or hateful, know the law of the land, the sway of moral outrage, and anticipate the unerring winds of social backlash that can dispossess you of your livelihood and make you a pariah. Be a fool quietly. Be not intrigued, I write first to adjure myself, whether it relates to others can only be an unfortunate coincidence.

South Africa: Table Mountain, Cape Town

Table Mountain first

As I got to Cape Town a Friday week ago, I was picked up at the airport by the chauffeur service I had ordered through my travel plans and made for my hotel.

Immediately after checking into my room, I looked out of the window and the backdrop to the horizon was the majesty of the Table Mountain, the side that looks like the table.

Going from the advice of the two pilots I met on my way to Cape Town, in the lounge and on the plane, I knew I had to get this event in as soon as possible.

Easy tickets and no queues

I did I quick web search and found that I could get my tickets online and possibly avoid the ticket queues at the place. I bought my ticket which appears to grant a 7-day access to the mountain.

The hotel kindly printed out my ticket and I called an UberBlack taxi to take me to the lower station of the cable car ride to the top of the mountain. Not knowing what to expect at the top of the mountain, I did my nature calls and then took the lift to the platform to await the cable car.

When the cable car arrived, there were just two seats in the centre at either side of the cable car driver, I took one as I tried to understand how the floor could be rotating and my still having the same view, I never figured it out.

Views only experience can explain

At the top of the mountain, I took in breathtaking views of Cape Town, beaches with turquoise coloured waters and much else that exemplifies the beauty of nature from a vantage point.

With my pair of binoculars and I suddenly realised they were over 20 years old now, the signs of wear were already showing on the casing, but the sights through the viewers were still as keen as if they were new, I saw clouds folding over the far end of the mountain in ways that would fill you with wonderment. Sometimes, the best appreciation of the beauty of our world can only be captured in experience rather than in pictures.

Then, I took the middle distance walk on top of the mountain spending about 3 hours there just taking in the views before descending via the cable car, this time, the floor was not rotating and I still could not tell the difference between the ascent and the descent, but that was one of my Cape Town goals completed.

Atop Table Mountain

Lisboa without a fleece boa

Shortly to Lisboa

A few days away to Lisbon since I could not take a long summer holiday because plans to receive guests went awry.

Having shifted that holiday to Christmas time, it is looking like I would not get the hotel I require, so I probably would be looking further afield, which is a shame or an opportunity.

As I may have written in many other blogs when I travel, I am always fascinated by air travel, the way that big mass of metal takes off gracefully and flies through the air till it gets to its destination.

Air crash somewhere

One must reflect, commiserate and sympathise because as I arrived in Lisbon, CNN had the breaking news of an air crash at take-off Madrid’s Barajas International Airport where it now appears 150 lives were lost. My prayers are with the survivors and relatives of those who perished.

The pressures of running an airline with the high fuel costs, outrageous surcharges, unrelenting competition and shareholder unrest can make the whole idea of air travel less safe than it should be, considering the said airplane aborted a take-off before it had that fatal accident on a second attempt.

Concerns one has

One only hopes that the pilots who should have a clear view of the health of their plane are not being put under pressure to take undue risks because of business pressures.

On my KLM flight, the plane was just about half-full that the captain advised that passengers should not change their seats until after take-off in order not to affect the balance of the plane.

Meanwhile, we had to take off our seat belts because the plane was being refuelled as we settled to leave, whilst being reminded that a half-full plane is bad business for KLM but they are there to serve the customer, I almost felt a lump in my throat for being cynical.

Lizard lakes

Once we took off, the views were magnificent, eventually; I decided to take some pictures from that vantage point of 11,000 ft, lakes looking like dragon-lizards and that amazing view of sprawling mountains and homesteads that makes you ask, who scribbles on the earth in this way?

Every time I am in the air, I see much of the beauty of the earth that is lost in the proximity of urban life and the struggles to survive, I can only wonder at what those who go into orbit see of earth from afar.

The hazy pictures in my picture album are probably the effects of light, pollution or some phenomenon I cannot explain beside the fact that some pictures were taken with my 2-megapixel mobile phone that was in flight-mode.

I am now here in Lisbon and would be posting a few more pictures and stories of my 5-night stay.