PATRIOTISM LOST PRIDE OF PLACE

MANY years ago, when the time came for me to leave my parents’ home and set up a home of my own, my mother gave me a collection of kitchen utensils.

She culled them from her kitchen stuff, and they were mostly old and scuffed with use – a frying pan, pot, several spoons and knives, and I reckoned I was ready to cook.

A lifetime later I still own one or two of those old kitchen tools and use them regularly.

Two of the knives are as sharp and keen as they ever were, and require only a quick swipe with a steel to keep them slicing and dicing effortlessly. They are both marked proudly, “Made in England”.

They are survivors of an age when national pride ran high. Countries had reputations to live up to. Birmingham steel was the best you could buy. Wilkinson Swords swung from the uniforms of proud soldiers across the globe. Barbers shaved their customers with English razors.

South Africa also produces goods with labels proclaiming they were “proudly South African”. TAVERN OF THE SEAS

Our factories made fine woollen cloth and soft blankets. Factories in Cape Town made fashionable clothing. We wore Rex Truform and Tej and slept under

Waverley blankets.

My parents, who were sheep farmers, insisted on our wearing sweaters marked with the “pure new wool” emblem.

People were proud of what they produced. Most of that pride has gone, and I believe that’s part of the sickness that’s sweeping the world like a dark plague.

We have become lazy and sloppy. Why bother to pay for a jersey made of pure Karoo wool when you can buy a cheap pullover made by Chinese children from recycled tea bags at a quarter the price?

Patriotism – national pride – died long ago.

We pay homage to political parties instead of countries, and political parties do not unite countries. They divide them. I see people wearing ANC, EFF or DA shirts T-shirts, but I have yet to see anybody dressed in a proudly South African shirt.

Corrupt leaders all over the world seem to be fighting against their people, rather than uniting and leading them.

Americans want to impeach their president, and the British seem vaguely embarrassed by their flop-haired prime minister who can’t make a clear decision about whether to be European. The Irish are divided and the Scots are mostly too engrossed in their whisky to care. And in South Africa, we seem to be regressing steadily into tribalism.

Only rugby unites us, so let’s don our Springbok colours and toyi-toyi our cares away. It’s as good a plan as anything our leaders have managed to cobble together. Last Laugh

The telephone rang in the fire station just after midnight and the fireman on duty answered.

A frantic voice on the line shouted, “This is Koos van der Merwe. Come quickly. My house is on fire.”

“Please be calm,” said the fireman,”and we will be there soon. Now tell me, how do we get to your house?”

There was a pause, then Koos said: “Don’t you guys still have that red lorry of yours?”