25 years ago

THE FIRST phase of the removal of about 139 families and about 20 squatters from the Barkly Road Zone buffer area to be resettled in four Coloured suburbs in the city is expected to start. The resettlement of these 1 879 people would be done on a periodical basis and could be completed within about six months.

THERE was no choice; you had to assume the pose. I mean, if you wanted your life to go on you had to have the toe of your one foot firmly planted on Mother Earth, which of course meant that the heel of that planted foot was raised, and firmly locked.

Next, the back of your hand had to be (firmly) wedged up against the knee of that leg – and that hand had to be the strong hand. Your other hand would have to have a palm of granite, or you had to have your handkerchief nearby to protect yourself from chafing or the dreaded blister.

Then you’d be required to pump for all your life was worth – yes, back in the bad old good days the simple act of inflating your tyre was one of the downsides of owning a bicycle.

During those dark ages the valves on a bicycle tube had what we called a “stocking”. Without going into too much detail, the stocking was simply a firm rubber tube, not even two centimetres long, that fitted firmly over the valve; it allowed air in – if you had the correct pose, muscles like harbour ropes and a good cardiovascular system – but didn’t allow the air to escape.

Long story short, the one thing you dreaded when you owned or borrowed a bicycle was a deflated wheel. In fact the one way you knew you had a true friend was when that friend offered to take over pumping your wheel when your strength was depleted.

One day, however, someone (probably a cyclist with weak hands) invented the “easy valve”. This new valve had a little rubber plug attached to a thin, wobbly pin that would open when air was being pumped into the wheel, but shut when air tried to escape … Suddenly people started travelling longer distances, boyfriends would pitch up at their girlfriends still fresh and sprightly, and the muscles that would be engaged while pumping started decreasing in size in subsequent generations.

Then there was, in the 80s, that transition period when easy valves were replacing stocking valves. Easy valve disciples would sing the praises of the little effort it took to inflate a wheel compared to the toil that the stocking valve demanded. Stocking valve diehards slated the unreliability of the new technology and, they added, it was more expensive.

The debate raged on, many were undecided. At one point I was on the fence; I had an easy valve on my back wheel and a stocking valve in front – waiting to see which way this latest industrial revolution would go.

But the rest, as they say, is history. These days those who are still cycling and remember the Dark Ages, joke about the effort it took to simply inflate a wheel; and, I suspect, they fondly remember those strong friends who helped them pump their tyres when they were too weak. You never forget those friends.

The thing about those friends was the fact that after helping you, that was it. It was over; help was provided and you were on the road again – full stop.

Friendships used to work like that in those days.

These days when favours are done you either hear the recipient saying: “Wow! Thank you so much! I owe you” or the provider of the favour will make it clear that you are in his debt, and he’ll be reminding you of your “debt” one day down the road.

I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish that friendships were less like tight, restrictive stocking valves, and that we were free to show our appreciation of those in our lives without having to keep score.

Yet sadly people are afraid of being exploited; simply, I suppose, because others have lost the simple yet beautiful art of appreciation. Or, maybe Marcel Proust said it best: “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”