proud to be south african today

When I read about what our Constitutional Court has done this week, i am proud to be South African.

When a widow like Fatima Hassam is not awared anything from her late husband’s estate, because she is one of two wives, you know something is wrong.

When the South African Constitutional court rectifies this, retroactively to 1994, then you know that common sense has prevailed.

Viva the ConCourt, Viva!

(the below is copied from the website of The Cape Times in the interests of spreading the good news http://www.capetimes.co.za/index.php?fArticleId=5084665)

Court ruling ensure equal estate rights

Victory for Muslim widow
July 16, 2009 Edition 2

Karyn Maughan

Fatima Gabie Hassam lost everything when her husband died without a will – leaving her, as a spouse in a polygynous Muslim marriage, with no legal claim to his estate.

Left homeless and having to sell toffee apples at flea markets to survive, the Cape Town grandmother says she had “breakdown after breakdown” after her husband died of a heart attack and the Muslim Judicial Council found she had no right to inherit from his estate.

But Hassam did not give up and embarked on what was to become a five-year court quest to ensure that a Muslim woman in a polygynous marriage could inherit from the estate of her husband if he died intestate.

Yesterday, the Constitutional Court’s 11 justices unanimously ruled in favour of the Hassan, 63.

“I’m the happiest woman in the world today,” Hassam said yesterday.

“I never expected this.”

Mother-of-four Hassam, who worked for 36 years in her husband’s shop before she was widowed, said she would now file a claim for a portion of her husband’s estate.

“But tonight I’m celebrating with my family. I want to eat at a really nice restaurant.”

Hassam said that she had come under “a lot” of pressure from certain members of the Muslim community to drop her challenge to the Intestate Succession and Maintenance of Surviving Spouses Acts.

“People told me to throw in the towel, but I didn’t listen.

“Now I know that everything I went through was worth it because all the other women who are like me have a chance to get what is owed to them.

“I persevered for them, not just myself.”

Hassam says she did not know or agree to her husband Ebrahim’s taking a second wife a year before his death.

“I came home from visiting my mother in Saudi Arabia (and) when he met me at the airport (he) told me he had married another girl from Worcester.

“I told him to go and live with her, and so he moved out.

“After he died, I arranged his funeral and mourned for him for a 100 days.

“And then everything fell apart.”

Her husband’s estate was awarded to his second wife.

Hassam saved as much money as she could and hired attorney Igshaan Higgins to fight her cause.

She also sought the help of the Women’s Legal Centre, which took her case to the Western Cape High Court.

Justice Dennis van Reenen found that a section of the Intestate Succession Act that provided for only one wife in a Muslim marriage to inherit from a man’s intestate estate was inconsistent with the Constitution. The judge held that the term “spouse” in the act should be interpreted to include spouses in polygamous Muslim marriages.

It was these findings that the Constitutional Court confirmed yesterday. In a ruling handed down on

behalf of herself and her fellow judges, Justice Bess Nkabinde found that the Intestate Succession Act discriminated against women in polygynous Muslim

marriages “on the grounds of religion, gender and marital

status”.

In doing so, she said, “the act clearly reinforces a pattern of stereotyping and patriarchal practices that relegates women in these marriages to being unworthy

of protection”. “The provisions in the act conflict with the principle of gender equality which the constitution

strives to achieve,” Justice Nkabinde said.

“That cannot, and ought not, be countenanced in a society based on democratic values, social justice and fundamental human rights.” Muslim marriages, unlike civil or African customary law marriages, are not legally recognised in South Africa.

Legislation relating to Muslim marriages has been on the cards for more than 10 years, but there has been no indication whether and when it will be passed.

of adventures and experiences

There are so many ways in which I’d like to start this story, but I only have one chance…

“So, after 700km, we finally got wonky weather. We’d hoped for snow, but we got rain & floods. We’d also hoped for it to be in Sutherland, 350km from Cape Town, but we got the wonky weather right back where we had started 2 days earlier…”

“Us city-dwellers were chased out of town; word had spread about us”

“I can only see one explanation for the way we were treated at the restaurant, and I don’t even like to admit it. But as the only table with people of colour on it, and the only table not to receive service of any kind, one can only make one deduction.”

“it is a pity that, in the middle of the ever-more-beautiful Karoo, that the village of Sutherland fails so dismally to live up to the expectations of a cheerful and hospitable place. The charm and warmth is distinctly lacking”

“the farmers driving the bakkie that had passed us minutes ago must have been wondering how we would do it, but Geronimo (the low clearance Golf cabriolet) managed to cross the Doring River today with aplomb. Besides that, he crossed several rocky streams and a few massive puddles. He was quite the 4×4 cabriolet!”

“it may have been the last day of the school holidays, it may have been the day everyone came back from Knysna, and it may have been pouring with rain – but by sticking to the very back roads, we managed to avoid traffic jams altogether. Of the 350km we travelled today, about 250km were new to me. How awesome!”

We had a great weekend away – even though not everything transpired quite as planned or as expected, but on the whole, I wouldn’t change much – we had laughs and tears, we had warmth and coolth, we had silliness and seriousness, but above all we had an adventure, filled up the experience bank a little, with super friends.

The idea was to go to Sutherland, see some stars through SALT (Southern African Large Telescope) and hope for some snow. There was always going to be a snow vs stars debate, as they are generally mutually exclusive. In the end the stars won. Sort of.

On Friday night and Saturday during much of the day it rained, meaning that the afternoon obvservatory tour was OK, as it didn’t involve any star-searching (not counting the middle aged dame that kept telling me I look like Roger Federer…). We saw the large telescope inside with an 11 metre mirror in the base. It is truly an exquisite machine to see. The evening tour we gave a miss, as it was still overcast, and no matter how amazing a telescope is, it can’t see through the clouds (yet?). And besides, the 4 degree temperature (wind chilled to around 0) promised some white powder.

But it was not to be, and when we left the house for dinner on Saturday evening, the sky was clear. MC would rather have been playing with his telescope, but we went through to dinner, strong in the hope that the skies would still be clear.

2 hours later we were back, the sky still empty of clouds, and our stomachs still empty of food. We’d gone to a local eatery named after one of the planets, and sat down at the table we booked. After about 10 minutes of trying to catch someone’s eye, we spoke to the waitress who said she needed 5 minutes, but we could order drinks at the bar so long. Which we did.

After another 20 minutes, we stopped the waitress again and asked whether we could order. She requested yet another 5 minutes. After less than one, she arrived back at the table and stood there. She didn’t speak a word. So I asked my fellow ‘diners’ what they would like, and she took the orders.

About an hour and 15 minutes later we asked where our food was, and were told that it would be another 15 minutes or so. By unspoken mutual consensus we all got up, tried to pay for the drinks, didn’t get any joy, so left some money on the table and left the building.

This is when the waitress suddenly decided to speak to us. Telling us that the food is almost ready, that we can’t leave. We mentioned, very politely, that we had had no service from the start. That it seemed something had bugged her about us from when we arrived, and that if she was so very busy, a quick, “sorry, I’ll be with you in a minute” would have more than sufficed to keep us happy. But alas, not a word was said, let alone an apology. MC even mentioned to her that Karoo towns are known for the liveliness and charm, and that she had shown none of that. Her last words, “dan is ek bitter jammer” were too little too late.

As it turns out, we had enough leftovers at home, and we could get some stargazing in as well! It was so incredible to see the (very faint) rings of Saturn and the tiny speck of its moon Titan. It was great to see a larger white speck through the telescope and know that the presence of 3 of its moons means it was Jupiter. But it was truly amazing to see the moon through the telescope and see the craters on the surface. Makes you feel very small.

We also spent part of the weekend wandering through the graveyards in the area – including one well after dark on Friday night, armed with only a head torch. It was not at all scary / freaky or spooky. In fact the limited light gave it a certain atmosphere. It’s hard to explain, but I really enjoy walking through graveyards looking at headstones, dates, names, and even the names of the gravestone makers. It can tell you so much. And in this town, these were some of the more charming hosts.

Sunday MH and I were left to our own devices, and when we got the feeling that chilling in the guest house lounge was not really an option, we took ourselves on a drive through the town and its township, taking lots of pictures. We finally left town, and headed towards Matjiesfontein. 100km from Sutherland, we had entered that town on Friday, roof down, “it’s raining men” blaring on the stereo, having a great time in the sunshine. We’d continued with the roof down all the way up the pass to Sutherland.

Now we were heading and down again, and just beyond the “Danger! Fasten seatbelts and remove dentures” sign on a side road, we spontaneously turned off onto a dirt road in the direction of Ceres. With a quick glance at the fuel gauge (should be enough) we ventured onto a road that we knew nothing about.

And 110km later we still had enough fuel left, had passed only about 5 homesteads, and seen 3 other vehicles. But we had seen some of the most beautiful Karoo scenery. Low green fynbos shrubbery, lonesome trees, flat topped hills, rolling hills, lots of rocks and rocky outcrops, vast open plains and the road winding through beautiful narrow valleys.

My car doesn’t exactly have the highest clearance, so I had to take it slow each time we ventured through or over one of the very many streams that crossed the road. As you can imagine these streams could be quite deep or stony. But Geronimo took it all in his stride. We stopped once to check the depth of a suspicious looking puddle, but it wasn’t too deep, and we got through just fine. We did get a bit of a fright when we were suddenly confronted by the Doring River though. Not a particularly deep river, it was nonetheless flowing, it looked deep, and had a lot of what looked like soft beach sand in and around it.

For a moment we despaired that we would have to drive 70km back to the Sutherland road, but this I didn’t want to do. So I rolled up my jeans 80s style and waded through…the…cold… water…

The lack of depth was joined by a concrete base to the river on the opposite end, and this made me confident that we could cross. To keep the car light, MH also had to wade across the river, much to his amusement!

But we made it, and had no further hurdles to cross.

We managed to stay on off-the-usual-path roads from Ceres to and through Tulbagh, then through Church Street to Malmesbury and from there the back road to Durbanville.

One of the things I try to do in life is to have as many experiences as possible. Under the motto, “try most things in life at least once” i hope to not only have lots of fun, but to also broaden my frame of reference; to understand where certain feelings, fears, emotions, etc come from, and ultimately to understand my fellow human beings better.

It may not have been cold enough, but we had a lovely weekend

did your cellphone date reset overnight?

i haven’t overslept in years.

i’ve struggled to get out of bed, and had to rush. but i haven’t, in many many years, woken up 15 minutes after i was meant to be at work… and that is what happened today.

the basic reason is quite simple: the alarm didn’t go off, because the “workday” repeated alarm doesn’t go off on a sunday.

And for some reason, the phone had the date, this morning (monday, 29 June 2009) programmed as “Sun 28.06.2009″.

iknow that on friday the date was correct, because the reminders went off as planned.

and i know that i didn’t reset the date.

so, did the vodacom network somehow reset the date on my phone? i didn’t think of this option seriously, until a colleague mentioned that her husband had the same thing happen…

is it possible for a cellphone network to change the date on a user’s handset?

is this a problem related to the nokia navigator i’m using?

my gut feel says “no”, but what is the explanation then…

bizarre…

RIP Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett

it is ingrained in me to support the underdog. the one who doesn’t get as much support or recognition as the others.

my instinct therefore is to make sure that the death of farah fawcett is not completely over-shadowed by that of michael jackson.

but i can’t keep it up for long. hell, if i’m honest, i probably wouldn’t actually have been able to tell you her name if i was shown a picture of farah before today. yet it seems almost unfair, somehow, doesn’t it?

but whether you looked his music or not (or should i say admitted it or not…) you have to admit he was instrumental in shaping the music industry as we know it, and has been the backing music to memorable moments for many many people.

i think of a friend’s wedding where i ‘caught’ the groom on video doing a solo dance for his bride on the dance floor to billie jean – so completely engrossed that he had become unaware of the wedding guests watching him.

he created memorable dance moves, great music videos, and excellent tunes. he was able to reinvent himself so many times in his long career. much like madonna, the variety in his music, his videos, his type of song, even his looks means he was constantly interesting.

his passing for the generation of 25 to 45 year olds must be as big as the passing of his ex-father-in-law elvis, or john lennon to previous generations. the big difference now, though, being the immediacy of the information. within minutes the world knew about it, and radio stations were playing his tunes. websites crashed with info-seekers. news websites without updates, historical overviews or pictures of crying fans were ignored and then quickly updated.

on my way home i could drive almost the whole way listening only to michael’s songs, just by switching between stations when a song ended. as i sit here writing this, i’m listening to german radio over the internet – one of the stations has an only-michael-jackson channel on the web. tv station personnel have been frantically putting together michael jackson specials to be aired this evening, the regular schedule being put on hold. as was the case with diana and the queen mother – the obits and specials had been written for the queen mum ages, but not for diana. were they sitting ready and waiting for the king of pop? or was there a quick scramble?

of course, the jokes started almost immediately as well – a strange human way of dealing with such matters. anything from turning him into lego to whether he will be cremated or recycled…

we shouldn’t really be surprised, should we…

south africa’s own satirical website, hayibo.co.za had this to say http://www.hayibo.co.za/articles/view/1071 – quite clever

his death doesn’t affect my life directly, but it really is very weird to realise every so often, that michael jackson is no more. that there will be no more songs, that he went so early.

rip michael, and farah

verbal assault with intend to do generational harm

beware, my ancestors, beware. she is onto us. she has vowed to catch me if she can. she swung her weapon to within a foot of me, and only quick dash into a chemist’s saved me. this time.

it started casually enough, shoppers perusing the wine shelf on a saturday afternoon, for the best wine within our respective budgets. i was looking at the reds, shiraz and merlot mainly, in a range of r35 to r40 a bottle. she was perusing the wines in the range of r60 to r70. a box.

as we perused away, she made casual conversation,”isn’t it scary how things just keep going up?”. a non-committal, non-verbal agreeing sound is all i made at that point. we were still 2 shoppers looking for an evening’s liquid.

it was only when she deftly recovered from an ever-so-slight stumble, hand already outstretched to grab my trolley handle, but not actually needing to, that my suspicions were first aroused. she quickly saved face by mentioning that the wine at the supermarket down the drag is cheaper, and that that is actually where we should be buying our wine.

i agreed verbally, knowing this to be a fact, and having found my choice of vino, moved on.

it was a few minutes later in the check-out queue that i was reminded of her presence, because i had actually already completely struck her from my consciousness. she sidled up to me, and in that practiced tone that we have all heard from time to time, casually mentioned that she was short of r10 for something she had bought on the other side of the shop, and would i be able to help her out.

as is usually the case with beggars, which she had now unmasked herself as being, i told her that i would unfortunately not be able to help her.

it was a mere minute later that i saw her at the next till with at least r70 worth of bank notes in her hand. cold hard cash.

it is this point that she would mark as the moment where i started the trouble.

standing next to my groceries, i asked her why she had begged me for cash when she clearly had so much in hand?

she did not take kindly to this, and told me that i should mind my own business. which i promptly did.

only problem is, this is not really what she wanted me to do. because she quickly decided that i needed to be told that i am a white bitch. this was delivered with some spittle exiting her mouth cavity.

i was caught between ignoring her and looking at her, and kept telling myself not to make eye contact. because each time i glanced up, it would set her off again – pointing a finger at me, yelling over the poor cashier, that i was a white bitch, and who did i think i was and that we had been slave owners and ,”you can’t do that anymore!”. That she would get me, that my people were evil and who did I think I was. and. and.and she was really upset and working herself up more and more, shouting louder and louder.

not liking this scene very much, i decided that i best keep quiet and ignore her.

she then promptly announced that she would be waiting for me outside the store. and walked away.

my mind raced to work out what the various exit options were from this store, while trying surreptitiously to keep a beady eye on her whereabouts.

while the cashier apologized, and the shopper in front of me lamented that she almost gave that woman some money, i saw her speak to a man not far away, but then disappear.

i took my bag and walked towards the exit – and promptly saw her walking towards me. with 3 of her male friends in town. i quickly kept my head down, hoping she would not notice me while in discussion with her friends, but no sooner had i passed them by maybe a foot or two, i heard a loud, “there’s he, the bitch!” yelled behind me.

and it was only through ducking into the side door of a pharmacy that her bag missed hitting me. she didn’t follow me in there, and to the stares of several shoppers, shop attendants and the i-almost-gave-her-money-shopper from earlier, i walked out the front door – being sure to check left and right in case she had decided to run around.

i suppose maybe i should have stood up to her, but you never know how she is going to lash out, especially when her 3 compadres are with her, and there was no security to speak of.

so, shoppers, beware the sweet lady with the scar on her upper lip and the booze on her breath, for she may just insult you and your heritage.

which of your senses?

if you had to give up one of your senses, which would be the most difficult one to lose?

for me, taste or touch would be the easiest; the difficult choice comes with being blind, deaf or mute. it’s a tough choice to decide between one of those 3.

it probably boils down to a match between hearing the laughter of someone you love versus being able to look into their eyes. hearing the flow of water over a rock, versus seeing a beautiful waterfall… tough choice.

i saw the movie blindness last night, and i think it helped me decide that i would rather lose my hearing than my vision. there is still so much you can do, see, experience, which becomes difficult when you’re blind. you can still read, appreciate beautiful nature and watch rain run down a pane of glass.

it is movie that is disturbing in parts, especially seeing how human interaction is depicted as changing when the government of the time reacts to people randomly going blind. only one person remains sighted. it is both disturbing and absolutely fascinating.

i’d surely miss hearing all my favourite sounds – and there is certainly not enough emphasis given to aural favourites. but please let me keep my vision.

which sense would you least like to lose, and why?

cape talk radio – it’s back!

i’m so happy… after 2 months of owning my new (second hand) car, i can finally listen to cape talk again it really is my preferred station while driving, and i’ve missed it.

my car didn’t have an aerial, so there was very poor reception (except on rqiny days on the freeway… honestly…). it’s strange, because every single golf 3 cabriolet i test drove before buying this one, did not have an aerial. it’s like there’s an aeriel thief out there with a golf cabriolet fetish…

and the even better part is that i asked them to check the air conditioning and give me a quote on fixing that. i’d had a quote of R5000 previously, to replace the condenser and a pipe of some sort.

but this guy tightened the pipe, re-gassed it and has it working 100% for under R500. bonus!

and just in time for winter, too.

has education become so bad?

i have the joy of looking after our students at work – something i really do enjoy it. most of the time.

i had an e-mail from a german client last week, who sells south africa as a destination, expressing surprise that it is winter in south africa now. “because we’re going into summer, and it’s nice and warm”.

umh…

so i put it to the students. did they know which season it is in germany at the moment? they replied with that hesitant uttering of a word, the one you want to let out slowly so that you can swallow it quickly if you sense that it is wrong. so that if the lecturer’s face begins to show signs of disagreement, you can take it back, unuttered, and give the opposite, correct answer.

so it was that ‘”s-s-sum-m-mer…?” slowly edgedd out. i agreed and asked them “why?”

more confidently came the answer this time – “because of the time difference.” smile.

i can live with that (only just, but i can). the world is not everyone’s cup of tea.

this week i asked for an indication of the GDP per person for various countries. I was told that they couldn’t find that, but they have got it per capita.

i can even (just) live with that.

but when the number representing the area of a country (1.212.912 square km) is read out as “one comma two one two comma nine one two square kilometres” or when someone is physically not able to read out the number 244′908, because they don’t know where to start, then i struggle with that.

i really really do.

on facials

i’ve spent the last 2 days looking in the mirror a little more intently than before. to date i have not seen a difference. don’t get me wrong, i’ve willed a change, i’ve imagined a change, if only briefly, but if i am honest, i cannot see even a new glow.

2 days ago i had the pleasure of being treated to a back & neck massage followed by a facial. it came after a night in a very (very) comfortable bed of a newish hotel, and was the final element in a thank-you from the afore-un-mentioned hotel for the business i’m sending them. and to allow me to experience the hotel (because that does make it easier to sell. genuinely).

anyway, i had the massage first, and am grateful that the masseuse was not of the let-me-tell-you-my-life-story-while-i-have-you-captive-under-my-elbows type. some masseuses clearly have a need to talk, while most people who go for pampering actually do it to get away from inane chatter and to just relax and do as little as possible.

the elbows, by the way, were great. she was very smooth in her transition from hands on my back to elbows in my back after hearing the word “firm” from me in response to her “how do you like your massage” question.

she really got in there, from the nape of the neck to the bottom of the spine.

my only fault on the day was to not mention to her that this was indeed my first facial, a facial virgin so to speak.

my use of soap (a four letter word in the beauty industry) as my (only) product of choice on my skin didn’t seem to give it away; she admonished me for it, telling me that the product she would recommend to me afterwards would last for 8 months, and hence only cost 10c a day. she made it even more appealing by indicating that the 10c i currently give to car guards or beggars i should rather keep to myself and spend on my skin… is it the liberal or the stinge in me that takes offence to this suggestion? coupled with the fact that her maths was out by about 90c per day when i did finally find myself unable to say no to the miracle product… but i digress…

i really should have mentioned to her that i had not had a facial before…then she might have talked me through the process, explaining what to expect. then i might have known to store extra air in my lungs and cheeks in preparation for the hot air that suddenly burned my cheeks. thinking it was only for a few seconds (“this is so hot, they can’t do it for long”) i held my breath… then i tried to breathe normally when i realized it was here to stay a smidgen longer than expected… eventually the lack of oxygen reaching my blood through the attempts to breathe normally through my nose, led me to suck in air out of the left corner of my mouth. lips pursed with a small gap on the side furthest from the steam-blaster.

i did manage to figure out the point of the steam-thing, as most people do in most near-death experiences, but that didn’t make it more pleasant. i suppose i could have said something, but i figured it was all part of the experience, and i’m all for having as many experiences as possible in life. and, i suppose, on reflection, it did make the nose-squeezing afterwards a little easier for her. and therefore probably less painful for me.

i must say, though, that the initial cool gel, and the little electric scrubber whirring across my upper lip, cheeks, forehead and under my eyes was great fun. it was a lovely little massage. followed by her finger massage.
the final product was a peel-off mask that she applied. it came as a cream which she pasted on to my skin, and left there to… sink in? congeal? dry? she said it works into the skin, but i could only think of one thing:
if this cream is to be a peel off mask eventually, it must by necessity congeal into a singular mass that is then convenient for the masseuse / beautician / (insert correct term) to remove at the end. and if the creamy paste is doing that, then how much sinking into the skin is it actually doing? especially while she is periodically prodding the mask (and by default my skin and under-eye-area) to see if it has congealed enough to now remove.

call me a sceptic, which i readily admit i am by nature, because i don’t like being taken for a ride. but i must also confess, i did enjoy the whole experience.

after the event, while i was still vulnerable under the towel on the plinth in her treatment chamber, she brought me a few of the products in the men’s range for me to look at. the one’s you need a thick skin to be told about – the cleanser (“please don’t use soap above your neck anymore”), the scrub, the anti-ageing cream (huh?!) and “this one if for the eyes”.

“what does it do for the eyes?”

“you dab it under your eyes and on the side”, she says while dabbing imaginary dots under her eye with her forefinger.

“and why would i want to do that?”

“it’s against dark rings, puffiness and ageing wrinkles”

all delivered completely matter-of-factly; like, please, don’t let either of us, like, pretend you’re still, like, young dude.

“i’ll leave the products at reception for you to have a look at”.

(it’s like the experienced coiffure in the hair salon telling me that i should colour my grey hairs. and while i’m aware that i have a fair amount of grey, i have been told that it is not bad looking. so, on mentioning to her that some of my friends had actually told me this, madame coiffure didn’t miss a beat when with a completely matter-of-fact face she informed me that these are “not real friends”.)

but i did feel terribly relaxed for the rest of the day, and i think i may just have another facial at some point in the future.

irony at it’s best

i received this today – so very true:

irony at its best

90 people get the Swine Flu and everybody wants to wear a mask
A million people have AIDS and no one wants to wear a condom