Beer and Champagne

He held the champagne flute in his hand.  What he’d give for a cold Castle and the Bulls were taking the Crusaders on at Lofters. And here he was, trying to look happy. Women needed to learn that organizing parties when big games were taking place just wasn’t on.

‘But that’s when we met!’ Was her excuse.  She was chatting to her friends and he was stuck clutching a tiny glass.  He looked around.  Andrew was hitting on anything with a skirt, he was setting up a score. Peter sighed.  His frolicking days were over.  Elaine moved up to him.  She was hot.  And she was smiling that smile of hers.

‘How’s the champagne?’ She asked.

Peter rolled his eyes, ‘you could have bought a case of Castle, it wouldn’t have killed you!’

Elaine laughed, ‘you know your ragtag friends would have gone through it by now.’

‘I would have hidden my six,’ Peter moaned.

Elaine was laughing at him. She slapped his arm, ‘Dad wants to toast. Are you ready?’

Peter looked around for Andrew, ‘where is he?’

‘I asked you to ask someone else. I knew he’d do this!’

‘He is my best friend,’ Peter said, ‘you know that!’

‘Where is this best friend of yours?’ She was getting hysterical.

Peter didn’t want to think what Drew would be doing with the girl he’d disappeared with. She was most probably a nice unsuspecting female.

He shrugged.

‘Shit! This is our engagement party, Peter! He is the last person to wish us well!’

People felt the blood roaring to his head, ‘why wouldn’t he wish me well, Elaine?’

She looked away from him, ‘just bloody find him!’

Where would Drew take a girl who he was trying to sleep with, with no attachments? Peter watched Elaine stomp off and took out his cellphone and dialed his friend.  This was much easier than trying to ferret out his friend out of secret corners.   Maybe he knew the score to the game.  Drew had called him crazy for wanting to get married, obviously he would not be walking down the aisle anytime soon.

‘Dude, Elaine is getting ready to castrate me. Where are you?’

‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’

‘What’s the score?’

‘Bulls up, twenty-two seven,’ Drew said, ‘and I’m past first base.’

Peter laughed and hung up. He needed to report back to Elaine.

‘Where is he?’

‘He’ll be here in five minutes,’

‘Dad is getting impatient! Really, Peter, he is a guest-’

‘He is my friend!’

She turned her back to him.

‘He’ll be here in five minutes, the game is almost over.’

She swung back round to face him.

‘I’m waiting around for some stupid rugby game to end! How inconsiderate you are. How dare you treat our guests like this?’

Peter sighed.

‘This is our engagement party, Peter! And he is tarnishing it!’

Peter rolled his eyes, ‘calm down.’

She put her hand up to her brow, ‘calm down? Calm down? I asked you not to ask him to make the toast. I knew he’d do this!’

‘You didn’t want him to make the toast because everyone here knows that you slept with him!’ Peter snapped. ‘And yet I’m the idiot who’s marrying you!’

He didn’t see her hand come up, but he felt the sting on his cheek and heard the crack.  The music played on but the room fell silent. He looked at her and saw the tears in her eyes.

‘I see that all is ready for my toast!’ Drew strolled him with a blonde on his arm, oblivious to the tension. He grabbed a flute, ‘Mr DJ turn the music down. To my best friend, may you have a happy marriage. Better you than me!’

Elaine gasped and ran out of the room.

‘Tears of joy, I’m sure,’ Drew laughed.

Peter looked uncomfortable. He wanted to go after her. But yet he didn’t. He looked at Drew and shook his head.

‘Shit!’ Drew said.

Indeed, Peter thought.  He looked at Elaine’s parents. He needed to go after her, but he knew she’d take hours to calm down.

She hadn’t meant to slap him. All she’d wanted was to make the bloody party a success but Peter had an obscene obsession with Andrew. She’d prayed Andrew would be overseas this weekend, but he’d rearranged his diary and taken leave just to be there and she couldn’t avoid it.  She couldn’t avoid him.  Why her?

The door opened behind. She looked over her shoulder. Peter. Peter would come, he always did. Why would she think Andrew would apologize, Andrew never ran after anyone. Everyone worshipped the ground he walked on…including Peter.

‘Hey,’ he said.

She looked away from him. It hurt too much.

Peter placed his hands on her shoulders, she shrugged him off.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

She moved away from him. She wouldn’t be shamed into an apology. Damn him!

‘Elaine,’ he said, in the calm Peter way. The Peter way that could crack ice or break a wall. So calm, so steady. ‘Drew has been my friend since primary school. He is a brother to me, I can’t cut him out of my life.’

‘Then stop throwing the fact that I had a relationship with him in my face!’ Elaine said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Peter said, spreading his arms. ‘I just don’t know why you are so eager to write him off.’

She could feel the tears coming. This was a shit party!

Peter placed his hands on her shoulder and turned her around and buried her face into his chest. She couldn’t stay mad at him and he knew it.

‘Let’s go home, hmm?’ He said over her head.

‘The party,’ she mumbled into his chest. ‘My parents won’t be-‘

‘I’ll phone them,’ He said. ‘They’ll take care of things with my mom.’

She nodded. She didn’t want to stay. She just wanted to lie next to her fiancé and pretend that she hadn’t slapped him in public. 

‘Stay here, I’ll get your things.’

He hated seeing Peter being duped by women, but Elaine had taken the prize!  Stupid bitch! God, Peter was above her and her psychotic tantrums. She had slapped him in public, now that had to be the cherry on top! But no, Peter had run like a dick-less puppy to her.

When she’d run off to Peter after he’d dumped her, he was sure Peter would see through her but had his friend been like most blokes and taken what was freely given and rejected the rest? Hell no! He had proposed. Proposed to that psycho bitch! Now he’d be forced to suffer her company for heaven knew how long their marriage would last. If he was lucky this engagement wouldn’t make it that far. Elaine knew how to get back a fellow. Jump into bed with his best friend and be a victim until said friend proposes!

Peter’s mom was frantic.  The shrew was going to be a permanent part of her family and she might give birth to other shrew children. Damn, if he was Peter he would insist on paternity tests. A woman who could sleep with your best friend wasn’t to be trusted…ever!

This party was a blow-out. Elaine didn’t have hot friends, too insecure to be outdone.  And the mostly average ones she had, well, not to his tastes. He needed to leave, he just needed word that the couple were ending their engagement and he could go out and celebrate.

Elaine’s father was tapping a spoon against his champagne flute. Champagne! Peter hated the stuff and he was most probably paying for all the Cliqot going around like JC Le Roux. His friend needed to grow some balls!

‘The couple have taken their leave,’ Elaine’s father was saying, ‘Elaine isn’t feeling well.’

More like Peter was willing to grovel, but not in public. Drew bee-lined for Peter’s mom and kissed her good-bye. A good solid beer, in honour of what was once his friend’s manhood, was in order.  He’d drink something local for a change, just for the Peter he once knew.

One For The Road

She looked up at the clear blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He was standing next to her. It always struck her how people changed with time yet somehow didn’t change at all. The golden sand was soft and warm under bare feet and she smiled.

‘What are you smiling about?’ He asked her, taking her hand in his.

‘I was remembering the little holiday we had just after varsity. We packed our bags into your car and dove to Durban.’

He smiled down at her, ‘those were the days. Before the bills and the job.’

Yeah.’

They walked a little while longer. It was a still day, the ocean was clam and the only sound to be heard was of a few seagulls in the distance. He was telling her about his life on the whole. The five years she’d missed out on, tactfully leaving out ex-girlfriends.

‘You’ve grown up a lot,’ he said into the stillness.

She stopped walking and looked up at him, ‘what does that mean?’

‘I mean,’ he responded squeezing her hand, ‘you were always so…what’s the word?’

She looked at him waiting, her heart was starting to pound and her body temperature was rising.

‘Insecure,’ he concluded. ‘Changing dresses ten times before stepping out of the house. Asking a litany of questions…’

‘How is asking questions indicative of insecurity?’

‘Well, you either know something or you don’t,’ he told her, ‘and well no one should know everything.’

‘So you believe ignorance is bliss?’ She asked, getting angry.

‘The thing is we already the know the answer to what we ask,’

‘So if I had asked if you had a girlfriend or a wife, I would know the answer even if I haven’t seen you in five years.’

‘Geez, woman, chill!’

‘Chill?’ she asked, ‘what’s this all about?’

He released her hand, ‘it could have been about anything.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Listen,’ he said coolly to her, ‘I have to get back.’

Endings And Beginnings

The old brown brick building not unlike many buildings built for functionality and not be aesthetically pleasing. It was a  hated building, more so on that hot and dry day.

The street was crowded, and pedestrians pushed about and snapped at those blocking their path, everyone was in too much a hurry to stop.

The street, as crowded as it was, was still a lonely place to be. There were better, happier places to be for people who still lived.  

The windows of the building needed a good cleaning. The sunlight dulled them. The litter on the steps to the entrance of the building needed to be cleared, yet, no one seemed concerned. People walked in and out of the building. Some happy. Some depressed. Some just looked like they had done what they needed to do. This walls in this building had seen it all and heard it all. It was a place which marked beginnings, middles and ends.

***

Paul looked the old brown building. His palms were sweaty from the heat of a beautiful summer’s day.  To Paul the old brown bricks signified something beautiful at each milestone of his life. When he’d come of age. When he’d gotten his licence to travel the world. And now it signified when he would finally belong to a solid partnership. The sun multiplied a hundred times on the building’s windows. People stood on the steps and he noticed each smile on each face. He would never be alone again. And in that crowded street he could hear the laughter of children, the excited chatter of friends.

Paul ignored the vulgar pedestrians who were rushing to do other things. For Paul, there could be nothing better than marking the beginning of a new chapter. A dream come true. There was no where else he wanted to be.  

He laughed, he had never felt better as he began his ascent to the building to mark another great moment in his life.

For The Love Of E-reading

I never thought I would live to see the day the day that I would be able to buy and read five hundred page books that weigh no more than my finger. Nor did I ever imagine that I would be able to carry twenty novels in my handbag.

I was one of those sceptics who swore with every breath in body that I could never read from a screen and bear turning pages with a press of a button and in the case of my iPod touch, a tap on the screen.

This is not a piece is not about flossing about my many gadgets, but it is more about how my view has changed on e-books.

Every avid reader who has a Kindle will tell you that one) you have never bought so many books in your life. Of course this is after your initial reservations but after the first book it’s almost as if you cannot help but buy more and more books even at four in the morning.

Two) You’ve never bought books at such a low price. Like for real! The most I’ve paid for a book delivered via Kobo is R72! And this was for a newly released book.

And of course we all think these gadgets cost way too much! Take into account that for brand new books you could be saving R130 per book, and for the more commercial books you are definitely saving at least R50.  After ten commercial books, you’ve saved R500 and all those classics like War and Peace and Ulysses that you’ve been meaning to read but have not had the will to buy? They are most probably free!

You can make notes on your Kindle, and your Kobo app on the iPad or the iPod. So if you are into the self-help genre or cannot read without taking notes, then voila!

Of course with certain gadgets you use them for other things as well. I use my iPod for listening to audio books at the gym (always those books that seem to be hard to get through when reading on text) and of course my music, which I cannot live without! Many people use their gadgets for email and to work on documents and such, like your iPads and your Galaxy Tabs.

But back to the Kindle. The New York times at a click of a button, delivered to you fresh off the press. What? Who wouldn’t fall in love? And you think you’ll miss the smell of paper? Hmmm…

This is not to say that I no longer buy printed books. I still do, but the price difference throws me off. Another reason I am still buying paper books is that I am forced to by book publishers who don’t publish all their books on e-format. If you are a fan on series books, this does become a pain when the first four books are in e-format and the fifth book is not available on Kindle!

I would advise every reader to get a gadget. Whether you read a hundred books a year or just one. Whether you want to get subscriptions to international newspapers or magazines or none at all. It’s user friendly and you will never have to worry about shelf space or fighting with your spouse over old papers again!

Note: I know someone who is selling their well kept and almost new Kindle 2^nd Generation for R 1 250 (including delivery in South Africa) less than half the price on Amazon. If you are interested or hoping to negotiate, can’t promise, email me: Simyn13@gmail.com

Happy reading!

I'm Not A Feminist, but...

Men are more valued members of our families and our societies. When I was in high school a male friend of mine told me that a girl child will never be as valuable as a boy. I of course tried to dispel this over the last ten years and he was right. I could list the studies that have proven this, even in first world countries. But well, I’ll be politicising.  This value factor is, in my humble opinion, most probably the reason why men walk around with a sense of superiority. That they deserve to drive better cars, earn more…purely based on the gender. Oh yes, hold on, I’m forgetting something: Yes, that’s it! They also think that God distributed intelligence based on our anatomies.

Hell, can I please start getting paid for every time a guy is surprised that I know something about sports, or I know what is happening in the economy or in politics? And can I please get paid every time I try to have an engaging discussion with a guy and he ends up using the fact that he’s bigger than me to get into my space or yells in my face, or claims that I’m just a girl, I cannot possibly get it?

I have been told countless times that I’m too aggressive (men are of course not aggressive but assertive). I need to “tone down”. Hell, I’ve been told a few times that my “aggressiveness” is the reason I’m not in a relationship. And yes, I have also been told that the fact that once people look beyond the surface I tend to be a surprise. How I look and the fact that I can string two coherent thoughts together is apparently contradictory.

I have seen countless women play down their intelligence to make men around them feel comfortable. Women change teams, change the way they use language and morph into their boyfriends. Their partners opinions and point of view become superior to theirs and hell, is it any wonder that when that man meets  women in the office space who will not change their nos to a yeses just because he, oh hallowed man, demands it he then becomes furious and petty?

For some reason I think most men would love to have the independent girl who is true to herself. They want the smart girl, but they also want the girl who is going to be submissive. The girl who will forget to have an opinion.

I don’t understand why there is no male equivalent for a slut or a whore. Or why for most of my life I’ve been told that men are liars by the very same women who are with them. Why do we have to different scales in society for acceptable behaviour for men and women?

Why are women who have abortions judged harshly by society while men neglect their pregnant girlfriends and go on pretending that they don’t have kids in every city are let off the hook as if it’s a lesser ill of society (I am waiting for fundamental Christians to start killing men who don’t pay child support)? 

We’ve been told countless times as little girls that we must dream of a white wedding with a big white dress, getting married to prince charming who only rides in to save the day after Cinderella and Snow White have gone through hell to survive! What I’m saying with this is that young women get told that the reward of being a good girl is getting married. And the only thing men have to do is to ride in and save the day. Are these things equally attainable?

I won’t even get to the fact that I rarely ever hear of a bad step-dad, but I hear of a bad-step mom all the time. Men aren’t required to accept children that aren’t theirs with open arms while women are! After all, we are all natural nurturers. We must all cook, clean, birth and still look attractive while he can sit on the couch and be fed and get fat all he likes without lifting a finger to help you!

The more I grow in my career and in my life, the harder it become to convince me that men look at women as more than just objects created to do their bidding.

I Hate You So Much Right Now!

I suffered from violent tantrums when I was younger. I know how it feels like being angry until you can’t breath. I know how it feels for anger to take over your body until you are trembling and burning up. I know how it feels like to lose your temper and also feel like you are losing your mind, control over your emotions.  I know how it feels like to break stuff and to throw dangerous objects at your siblings (ask my older brother) while you are burning up and crying uncontrollably.

The quickest way to end a friendship is to say something out of anger. I’ve been there. I know how it feels not to talk to people you live with because you are so mad at them. I also know how hard it is to mend those fences when you’ve cooled down.

I knew I had a temper problem when I started fearing my anger. I knew then that I needed to work on it. Thank goodness I did. These days I’m able to let things go and confront issues without blowing up and throwing stuff around, and lord, without crying!

Which is why I get concerned when I see grown people still losing their tempers to the point where they can’t decipher the line where they’ve just gone too far.   If you are over twenty, your anger shouldn’t get a hold of you to the point where you can’t hold your tears back and you can’t think rationally.

There is no such thing as a healthy dose of anger. Anger is not rational. And anything you do out of anger is not rational and you are bound to regret it.

Rational people don’t drive over cheating husbands. Rational people don’t shoot their ex-girlfriends in broad daylight. Rational people don’t vandalise their boyfriends cars. Rational people don’t  start screaming at other people at parties.

I’m not saying that I never lose it. I still do. Sometimes. And yes, taking a deep breath and counting to ten doesn’t help me. But keeping my mouth shut does. Keeping my mouth shut and walking away helps.  

I live in a country with a lot of angry people. Some mad that the past is gone and they yell at petrol attendants and shop assistants, and speak to them like dirt. And you can tell that they are thinking that if it was 1980 they wouldn’t have to deal with “incompetent black people”. This is the worst. Anger merged with hatred and bitterness and nostalgia. I don’t get it. I’m not a disgruntled white man who has no education and cannot immigrate to Australia or Britain. Whatever.

On the other hand we have angry young black people who feel like nothing much has changed except that a few black people now live in suburbs and drive nice cars. Young black people who are mad at the increasing gap of inequality in the country, and feel like foreigners are valued more than they are. Burning other people’s homes isn’t going to change the situation. Destroying what other people have out of hate and frustration with the fact that only a handful of people have managed to rise above poverty line. Killing people because they aren’t South African isn’t going to make the government realise that they aren’t doing enough.

Someone’s BBM Status read that “Our gaze must be firmly trained on the future and not the past”. But how hard is this to do when the past affects our present? How often are we weighed down by history. And how many of us are really that adaptable to change? How hard is it to see anything when you are filled with anger? Sure, if you get knocked down, rise again. But how many times can you fall without breaking something?

And maybe freedom from our frustration and anger will only come once we’ve broken something, hopefully not our spirit. 

The Hippie Returns 2011

I believe in the impossible. I believe in rising above the standard someone else has set for me. I have a million and one things that I would like to do in my lifetime. I even want to make the world a better place. But I also know that I need to have realistic goals.  And my biggest dream is not a goal.

We all have dreams. Some bigger than others. Some achievable and some, well? But not all of us have ambition. Ambition is the effort you put in into achieving something in your life. Just like dreaming, no one can be ambitious for you. And no one can make your dream come true for you.

If you really want something. If it is your dream: Don’t wish it. Don’t think it. Just let it become your reality. Live it every day of your life. Believe that it is your reality. And before you know it…

That sermon over with: I’m looking forward to a year of great literature. I want to read beautiful books. I’m looking forward to a creative year on my part. I want to achieve the impossible with my craft. And why the hell not?

I’m looking forward to a lot of great music. I’m hoping that different music genres will be vying for my attention. I’m excited with the music that’s coming out right now in all genres, and I can’t remember when last that happened.

I’m looking forward to a productive year. I want to do what I need to do to move my life forward. On the whole, I’m looking forward to beautiful 2011. And well, I guess I’m looking forward to being a much improved version on me: Program SimsN version 2011.28. Fully upgradeable, updates available on http://twitter.com/#!/SimamileNdaba.

Have a blessed year. Stress less. Tolerate others, accept you and mostly just spread that love. 

2010...

First of all I would like to send a huge thank you to the Great I Am for letting me see another year. I’d like to thank him for giving me such a loving and supportive family; gorgeous loyal friends and a job with a steady pay check. But hey, it’s not over yet!

Let me take a moment to say thank you to my parents, my brothers and my sister. Without you I wouldn’t be half the person I am, hell, I wouldn’t even be here at all. We’ve had a blessed year. It’s been beautiful. Love you with all I am.

To my girl, who has risen with me, stuck by me when I was down. You deserve all the love in the world. Grow. Flourish and be happy, that’s my wish for you. We’ve had a great year and yeah there’ll be many more!

To my girl, I miss you. Really, I do…take a minute, leave the past behind. We had dreams, and I would like to be there when we grow old. Let 2011 be better for us…

To people who have used me. It’s cool, I’m not mad. As tough as you make it to love you, I still do. What use is love if it can only be given to those who love you? You’ve aged me, I’m wiser now than I was twelve months ago. I suppose that’s a good thing. One day, if you get famous don’t forget to credit me. In case you pretend to forget, it’s cool…see you around.

To all the liars. Hell, what do I say to you? The injury was only momentary, but the lesson will last to infinity. But that aside, I need to thank you for showing me the value of truth in my life.

To all those great writers who filled my soul with great literature, you made me laugh; cry; want to love. Thank you and keep churning those brilliant books. Thank you for inspiring me to improve my craft. May you grow as writers and stay true to the art of weaving stories and committing them to words.

To music. Thank you for letting me dance, sing along, jog to you, cry out to you. You’ve hit so many nerves in me. And to the gifted musicians…keep making that music and inspiring the world. What would we be without you?

To sports. Thank you for those moments of heartbreak, of unspeakable joy. A special shout out to FIFA and SAFA for hooking us up with the World Cup, I had a ball.

And before I go...

To my destiny, I am so ready for what you are about to unfold on me. To all my fellow dreamers, we will get there! Just put in the time, and the heart…

The hippie wishes that you may be peace, love and prettiness forever. 

Music and Me: Songs I remember Most From My Childhood

Caiphus Semenya- A woman has a right to be

This reminds me of road trips with my family to Swaziland in the cream white Sierra. The road that seemed enless back then, I always imagined it was a full day trip which was in reality a four hour trip. 

Mama Said Knock You Out- LL Cool J

Holidays in Swaziland: my cousin Mandi and my older brother Sibusiso. First clear memory of rap music. Sibusiso says it’s more like the days when NWA first came out, but I don’t really remember those so I’ll still say that LL Cool J, MC Hammer and Run DMC were the reasons I fell in love with hip hop (I was six/seven).

Abide With Me- Ella Fitzgerald

This was one of my maternal grandmother’s favourite hymns along with What a Friend We Have In Jesus and Rock of Ages. We had them all on record. I remember coming back from school in my blue and white school uniform and hearing her singing along. I miss both my grandmothers…

Dear Mamma-TUPAC and Juicy-The Notorious BIG

I remember these years of hip hop when we had to choose between two great MCs. We couldn’t admit to loving them both, even though we did. I could list twenty songs that each dropped that moved me during this time right up to their deaths and beyond. With their death, the course of Hip Hop changed and I’m not sure if it was for the better…

Wannabe- Spice Girls

The only reason this song is on this list is because it was my last year of primary school. I remember short skirts, mini shift dresses and platforms were big then and so was trying to act older than I really was. I guess I now realise that I should have held on longer to being a child instead of rushing into my high heels.

Higher-Creed

This song was my first confession that I loved rock (after denying for years that I liked Alanis Morisette, Oasis, Smashing Pumpkins, REM...). Until this song came out I remember making statements like, “I only listen to hip hop”. It was uncool to identify with anything remotely white, but it was a huge hit in 2000. It was a new century, a new decade and I guess it was time for a change and for being me and being okay with being me. Biggy was dead, PAC was dead and Hip Hop would never be the same again.

Poverty and Me

When I was in primary school, I considered my grandparents poor. They didn’t have cars. They didn’t have indoor plumbing, a video machine, a big yard. Rich people, to the child me, were people who drove big cars and lived in huge houses and their children had a mountain of toys. When I was twelve one of my mother’s relatives who lived in Orange Farm passed away. I had never been to Orange Farm before this, and if I thought I knew poor, poor got a new face on that day.

Orange Farm is a shanty town of corrugated iron and haphazardly created streets. It’s an informal settlement that the government was forced to make formal because of the large number of people who started calling it home in the early 1990s.  It’s a town that when it rains, the red sand turns to clay that even 4X4s struggle to navigate through.

I had never been inside a shack. It was hot, stuffy, dark. There was no fridge nor was there a stove, except a gas plate. Both my grandmothers had always had fridges and electric stoves in their homes. I had never been in a home without fridge. There were only three plastic chairs and the only table in the “house” was an old door on a steel frame. For the first time in my life I was faced with desperate poverty and it was in my family. This little shack could fit into my bedroom. I suppose I remember so much about that shack because it was a moment where I understood for the first time what real poverty looked like.

You see, a lot of people in South Africa are poor. But they are not equally poor. Poverty in South Africa is often separated by geographical areas. If you live in Soweto, you might face this level of desperate poverty, but chances are that you won’t unlike if you live half an hour away, in Orange Farm.

Yes, my grandparents were poor. But they had decent furniture, electricity, running water, basic appliances, a roof over their heads. Sure, they would have to use taxis and government hospitals, and they had little in savings but they could afford to have a meal at least once a day.

And then there is the other poverty. The poverty where scrapping a meal together a week is a mission. Where one member of the family who has a minimum wage job is supporting eight other people and not all children. Families where eating thrice in a week is sheer luxury and a fridge is a far off dream. Families where vegetarianism and organic eating don’t register as choices because just getting any food in any form is a blessing.

And I think, do I have an obligation to these poor people? Yes I do because it is expected of me. It is expected of all of us who live in excess. We have more shoes than we need. More clothes than we need. We go out every other day of the week and waste more money than we save.

Helping out that one child with school uniform is going a long way to easing financial pressure on these families. Donating a 25kg bag of maize meal a month to ensure a family is fed is going a long way. Giving away that you no longer need so that someone can have a decent outfit to wear when they go job hunting is doing your bit to easing the desperation in one family.