55 years of blessings

Every day a blessing

Every day from Tuesday the 22^nd of September 2009 has been a blessing for it was the day I was admitted to hospital presenting aggressive cancer as a result of complications of HIV/AIDS for which the prognosis was probably only 5 weeks to live if I could not tolerate the regimen of medication and chemotherapy that was required to give me a chance of living.

Then again, each day from Tuesday the 21^st of December 1965 has heralded blessings innumerable even on days I would never hope to relive but each and every one of them has passed into history to become a story, a testimony, a reflection of gratitude for the grace and mercies that have filled my life with wonder even if in the telling it rarely gets a feeling of awe. I was born at just over 26 weeks and here we are.

Thankful for the year

2020 has been a year of strangeness and difference, days became months of uncertainty but buoyed by hope and a sense that Psalm 23 revealed anew to me than it was a passing through a valley of the shadow of death from exhausted green pastures and stale still waters to fresh green pastures and refreshing still waters, we press on forward speaking of goodness and mercy that follows all the days of our lives. See the links below.

Blog - The changing texts of religious meditation

Blog - Psalm 23 comes alive with new insight

Writing today of my 55^th birthday fills me with such joy and happiness, celebrating it with my lover and partner, Brian means everything to me. Yet, in everything, through sometimes strained communication and relationships, my parents have been beacons of amazing support, my many siblings give me a sense of family weighty at times and honourable in everything.

Grateful for life and living

Then my friends, Kola who I have known since time began, there are many trials I would never have seen through without his friendship, Funmi who I have missed for over a year since before the pandemic began, a confidante, and more. Patrick who especially in this year was available in every way to nurse me back to health early this year, fight my cause in the tardy response of the NHS, he became my neighbour and family for these strange times.

Beyond the named friends, many who have contributed in no small measure to giving me a sense of fulfilment and have contributed to the sense of gratitude that makes this day so special. Let us celebrate life even in the midst of a pandemic and most of all cherish every moment we have been given for the possible opportunity of telling a better story. Thank you for celebrating with me, the joy of living.

Back in church in Cape Town

Without notice or direction

Last Sunday, we did lie-in though it was unclear from visiting the St. George’s Cathedral website whether in-person services were taking place. When we finally stepped out, it was already three hours after the morning service starts, there was no indication that the church had been open earlier in the Sunday.

The big noticeboard had disappeared and the other one normally for announcing other events had the service notes for the previous week and when it was updated it was still lagging by a week. We determined we would find out today. Woke up early and made for church without knowing what the situation would be. We were already there before we were assured.

Finding order in our disorder

Stepping in, we sanitised our hands, had our temperature taken and then signed in our names before taking our seats in a socially distanced arrangement of chairs. Ours were probably the closest together, and on the row behind, the seats to be left vacant were marked with an X in masking tape.

The service is usually conducted from a pamphlet and an insert, shuffling between the two to determine where were we at was an art of resignation because some of the recitations referenced from pamphlet to insert and vice versa were in neither, we just followed the experience.

Between the standing and sitting, it was not entirely clear whether the congregation was to join in or not, I whispered that parts I could follow and the singing was best carried by the choir, numbering just a few but rousing in their renditions and voices. On the procession at the close of the service, I was surprised that so few could project so well, they were probably joined by angels.

A prophet of lustful compromise

After the sermon, we were about to recite the Apostle’s Creed, when from the back of the church in what we first thought was a variation to the Sung Eucharist, a man dressed well enough to evade suspicion called out declaring he was a prophet of God and began to rain curses like prophets of the Old Testament for some perceived sin of whoever got his goat, none of which I intend to repeat of what I heard.

The President simply continued the service unperturbed and the usher gently took him by the arms to go and find other wildernesses to rot away in. My understanding is the office of the prophet changed from the Old Testament to the New Testament, a prophet will speak by the Holy Spirit to edify and build the church, confirming things that are unresolved or remain mysteries.

The blessing we had

The age when the prophet had no grace and peace to offer is long past and those who proclaim to be prophets of God are tested of the truth and the alignment with scripture and that determines whether they are speaking their own vanities to instil fear and loathing or lifting hearts, minds, and lives to the amazing grace of God.

We continued our service to the end; the open doors of the church are inviting to those who solemnly seek to reflect and pray whilst being respectful of other worshippers. Holy Communion during pandemic times is just the bread without the wine. It was a blessing to be back in our church in Cape Town.

We are poor observers of extreme fashion

In retrospect

I cannot count the number of times that Brian and I have looked back suddenly, our faces dripping with shock at the things we have just seen. Obviously, we risked being labelled sententious discussing this subject, but as I opined to him yesterday, here we are not attracted to ladies and forced to take a second look.

Maybe it is a case of not having a mirror to look at before stepping out of the home, courageous and daring it might be, careless and carefree in other cases, we cannot tell. We cannot and should not judge anyone by their dresses, but we cannot ignore those who have worn clothes too short that every few steps they are struggling to pull them down to cover their modesty, something so completely avoidable if they had done a second take at home.

Skirting the issue

Yesterday, in what was generally a beautiful dress, it did not have enough fabric on the upper body that her assets were spilling out, I guess it had become too much for her to care anymore, she just let it go and flow. We were not ogling but definitely were almost scandalised, it is each to their own.

As we walked through the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront after shopping, we were afflicted and I use that word generously, by the glowing underside of gluteus maximus, the buttocks. She was wearing pants so hot they would not have been suitable for a bikini and here we were nowhere near the seaside and by the shoes she was wearing, she was not coming from there either.

In perspective

It reminded me of the dictum I share about blogging, to have the sense of a seamstress making a good skirt; it should be long enough to cover the detail and short enough to keep the interest, that is the aesthetic after which the rules unwritten and unspoken as they may be have been broken.

Yet, I veer into the dangerous territory of regulating apparel where no one can win, probably what I need is never to be offended regardless of what I see and just because of that one should not lose the freedom to comment without condemning.

Decency is a construct of personal tastes in the purview of public observation, from one perspective there is a likelihood the ladies to have paid much attention to this matter, on another, maybe they did my exertions here are just agitations over causes that have chosen their own representative path. Good for them.

Thoughts on my arrival in South Africa

A labouring arrival

Arriving in South Africa felt like another world, with announcements going out every few minutes to warn us to be safe and to protect all by protecting ourselves. At Johannesburg, all the travelators were not working as I walked that long distance from one end of the airport to immigration control.

Before getting in line, I was asked for my negative COVID-19 PCR test which was compared with the name on my passport. I have found I need to use my full legal name rather than the shortened versions that I have been identified with for longer than I can remember than I might even miss the calling of my full first name just out of being unfamiliar with it.

Using a cane meant I could join the shorter queue of those being provided some assistance, my temperature was taken and then the customs official pleasantly took my passport, asked for my mask to be removed, checked all my particulars, stamped my passport and sent me on my way.

No thrill at no frills

Getting a trolley was an involved exercise, I was already sweating profusely but the closest trolleys were all locked up in chains. I eventually got one, collected my baggage that had not been checked through to Cape Town only to encounter issues with the number of suitcases I could check-in with the partner airline that was to cover the Johannesburg to Cape Town final leg of my almost 27-hour journey.

This was resolved at the ticket sales desk and I was checked in to this no-frills single class airline where we were seated 6-abreast before I gave up my window seat for a family to sit together. The lounge setup was perfunctory but acceptable, the shoe-shiners were nowhere to be seen.

On arrival in Cape Town, the e-hailing ride section had been moved to another location, properly signposted as I have demanded many times before. I have religiously worn my mask through the whole travelling experience, it cannot be said of many other people. We just need to keep alert, aware, appreciative of the situation we are in, and we’ll be fine.

The walking exercises still matter

The exercise continues

Since my arrival in South Africa, I have managed to get my daily 10,000 steps done apart from on Tuesday when I was 1,400 steps short of the target. I do not want to exert myself too much to catch up with the lean week before when I more or less self-isolated before my journey to ensure I did not, unfortunately, come in contact with any situation that could lead to an unfavourable test result.

Much as I would have liked to do the early morning walks, I needed to chart a course, and until today, the target had been reached by reason of the walks to the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront mainly. I have not been able to set a course for the promenades of Sea Point through Mouille Point to the Foreshore. It has been quite windy where we are that the need for the sea breeze is moot.

A route planned out

Yesterday, I found a route to the Company Gardens away from the busier parts of town and that became my traipsing corridor this morning. I am still suffering from some discomfort down that back of my thigh to just behind the knee where nerve ends or tissue are irritated that I am half limping but not hobbled, I can still trek at speed and work through the pain. I think this calls for a professional massage.

The length of the arterial path through Company Gardens is just over a kilometre long and I have found a route that makes a two-kilometre round trip, the return trip to my apartment being 2 kilometres and three circuits of Company Gardens gives me just over 8 kilometres and around 11,000 steps in around 75 minutes. Anything else later in the day becomes a bonus.

The mornings are quite warm, I need to take more water and have a face towel to hand. I am probably a spectacle of a man who is neither jogging nor walking, handling my cane just in case it is needed somewhere in my pursuits, we strive still to keep fit. How is it that this apartment does not have a scale? Maybe the obsession with weight needs to be less so at this time.

Riding with those who have a nose for shit

Taxiing the news

When I lived in London over 20 years ago, one good place to feel the pulse of the country was to take a ride in a traditional black cab with a slightly talkative driver who addressed you as guv and had an opinion on everything under the sun. You listen and interject every once in a while so he does not take a fright that you have suddenly keeled over and died.

Now, what you hail is an Uber, the driver could be from anywhere and their opinions are from interesting to completely outlandish, you endure it because there is no point trying to correct far gone viewpoints that would require a frontal lobotomy. You cannot in the time you have together teach enough to help them unlearn what they have as literally as street-sweepers swept off the kerb from litter to dog shit.

Relaxing the nose

Returning from Parkland after shopping at a Nigerian foodstuffs shop, the Uber driver before he arrived asked where we were going, which should rarely be the case, your fare is a lottery. In any case, I told him and asked if he was taking the journey or up to something else. He did eventually arrive as we exchanged pleasantries and he went half-masked, covering the mouth and freeing the nose.

Many, I have seen going about with their noses free like expansive and untamed protuberances masquerading like elephant trunks and you could almost feel sorry for them if their noses put Pinocchio in the shade and not one lie had been told yet.

Taxing the ears

Our driver was endeared to us as he stopped in the middle of the road just at some traffic lights because he observed a mobile phone had been left on a car boot. As luck would have it, we cannot tell for how long the phone had travelled on the boot, but he got it as was able to alert the lady to her pending loss of her mobile phone. Boy, was she thankful and grateful?

It deserved a pat on the back for the quick-minded act and presence of mind to do something. It is unlikely trying to wave her down would have elicited the necessary response to stop and see what was wrong. After that, the conversation veered into the matter of luxury cars and then African leaders. I could agree with some stuff though much else was just out there like crazy, as we alighted with sighs, we concurred he was a chatterbox in excess though Brian might learn from here too that we were fed bullshit by the shovel and the tipper truck. We suffer and smile from A to B.

Service does involve being serious about providing it

Hoisted by Houst

When Brian arrived on Friday, he tried to sort out a few issues with our apartment on Saturday, like he was able to connect on WiFi he was getting no Internet connection and getting a spare set of keys. Once again it showed why it is preferable to book hotels with apartments rather than AirBnB-type arrangements though this was presented on my Hotels.com portal where I have been a loyal member for 8 years.

Our apartment in a complex is managed by an agency called Houst that seemed to find ways to exhibit levels of intransigence and incompetence, this will not be the last word on the matter. Whilst they have garnered many 5-star reviews, the length of the 1-star reviews is well over half of the 5-star ones, with negligible reviews in between. This is indicative of probably an outfit that excels despite themselves and underperforms with deliberate urgency.

Brian’s call should have elicited a response email, a reference number and some idea as to when the Internet issue would be resolved, none of which happened. When I arrived late on Saturday, after attempting a call, we decided it all best dealt with on Monday.

Quick to the buck

Today, we began with the need for a second set of keys even splitting it into having just a key fob for the main gate and the entrance to the apartment block, to no avail. A hotel would easily have provided a second set of keys where there was more than one guest. It just pointed out the indolence of the agency.

On the Internet matter, I was having none of the nonsense about having not connected properly, this simple networking situation is my bread and butter, it has been for almost 30 years. As I suspected, I contacted the Internet Service Provider (ISP), the account for our apartment had been suspended for the non-payment of bills.

It might not have been the responsibility of the agency to pay that bill, but they should have taken on the responsibility of checking all advertised services were in working order before accepting guests. Nothing is as irksome as to find that you have been short-changed by unprofessional and inattentive outfits quick to the buck but slow at the muck, it just sucks.

Fixing it ourselves

At a point, I did consider paying the bill to get the service back pronto, though it would have taken 24 to 48 hours to restore the service and we were already in the 4^th day of a month-long stay. Eventually, we decided on getting a MiFi dongle with oodles of gigabytes to play with and connect up to 16 devices. This immediately solved the Internet access problem, and if the apartment eventually gets the service restored, fine.

As we were going out, we saw the Building Manager’s office, but she was on the phone. On returning, I had a word with her, and she said I could have a key fob for a deposit to be returned on our departure. If Houst had bothered to Know Their Customer and the apartment they were letting, this information would have been present either for them to have spare key fobs or inform guests of that availability. My honest opinion is the service Houst provides or my experience leaves much to be desired.

At the end of 6 email exchanges where my views were clearly and forcefully expressed without losing my composure or courtesy, their last response was a boilerplate dereliction of service. “Thank you for your message. I will pass this on to the host and keep you updated.” I am not holding my breath on any improvement on their part. Never again is my consolation for any new booking and hopefully when we get our places and need to have them managed by an agency.

It is behind us and we can enjoy our holiday and time together without the frustration of dealing with atrocious customer service.