The Big Blow it was
WHERE were you during the Big Blow? Everyone has his or her story. I first became aware of it while breakfasting at a place in Morningside. Suddenly an old guy appeared from round a corner, dancing a crazy fandango as he was carried along by a gust of wind.
Then sheets of rain and items of debris carried by the wind. It came quite literally out of the blue.
I made my way home, driving through almost axledeep water, the faithful Corsa doing pretty well against a raging torrent. Then a right turn into a tributary, where a giant mkuhlu – Natal mahogany – lay across the path. Up on to where the pavement lay beneath the muddy flow, to creep between a wall and the snapped bole of the mkuhlu and thence the haven of the humble abode, where the electricity was no more. I got off lightly, I know. And so did we all in a way. That container ship that drifted into the harbour entrance could have brought economic ruin on the whole of southern Africa and beyond. Shipping circles tell me that had she sunk, it could have taken many months to clear the harbour entrance.
That would have stopped
the bulk of our imports and exports. And not just ours – countries beyond as well, right up to the Congo. Durban is the biggest and busiest port in Africa. Richards Bay is not equipped to take over, nor any of the others down the coast. Nor Maputo and Walvis Bay, which also entail massive road transportation.
And they tell us another cold front is on its way, possibly tomorrow. More wind? Hoo boy!
The shack folk
THE phrase on everyone’s lips during the Big Blow was: “If you think this is bad, think of the people in the shacks.”
Quite so. For the informal sector it’s devastating. Just when are the authorities going to accept that they are never going to get on top of the problem – they have to allow the shack dwellers themselves to put themselves behind bricks and mortar.
Supply them with the materials and let them get on with the job, using the same ingenuity they do in constructing their iron shacks. No bureaucracy, no tenders, no lucrative housing projects that come to nought or very close to it.
This is not fanciful. I’ve seen it done before in Angola, where a mayor supplied bricks at cost, put in the most basic infrastructure and let former slum dwellers build for themselves. This was in the southern port of Lobito. I’ve written about it before.
No plans, no fuss. When a man builds his own house, it doesn’t fall down. This week’s Big Blow brought all that to mind – also the story of the three little pigs and the big bad wolf. The brick house withstood the huff and the puff.
Medals
YESTERDAY we discussed Idi Amin, the former military dictator of Uganda, who declared himself a Field Marshal (he had actually been a sergeant-major in the Ugandan army and was also a heavyweight boxer).
Reader Dave Nicholls asks if we have in our archives a wonderful cartoon of Amin in full military uniform and wearing every medal known, including the VC, plus Fanta, Coke and Sprite bottletop buttons.
I remember that cartoon. I think it was by Jock Leyden. He had a wonderful way of capturing buffoonery.
Smart answers
SOME smart-ass answers come this way: It’s mealtime on a British Airways plane. Flight attendant: “Would you like dinner?”
Male passenger: “What are my choices?”
Flight attendant: “Yes or no.”
A cop stops a young driver for speeding.
Cop: “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”
Youngster: “Well I got here as fast as I could.”
A truck driver is on a country road. A sign comes up: “Low Bridge Ahead”. He gets stuck under it. Cop: “Got stuck, eh?” Driver: “No, I was delivering this bridge and I ran out of diesel.”
Tailpiece
A DOG goes into a labour bureau and asks for a job.
“Wow, a talking dog!” says the clerk. “With your talent I’m sure we can find you a job with the circus.”
“The circus? What does the circus want with a plumber?”
Last word
OPPORTUNITY is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. – Thomas A Edison