Vegetarian Rissoles (if you don't count the egg)

I think I may just have found the ultimate Veggi burger/Rissole recipe I have been seeking for the past few years. I really love this one! It works and the consistency of the patty is really good.

Veggi Rissoles

1 ¼ cups mushrooms, finely chopped
1 small onion chopped
1 small courgette chopped
1 carrot chopped
¼ cup chickpeas
2 cups breadcrumbs or oats
1 egg
2 T chopped fresh parsley

1t mixed herbs
1t marjoram
1t tyme
1t marmite
1t dry vegetable stock
Oatmeal for shaping
Salt and black pepper


Cook the mushrooms for 8 -10 minutes, so that no moisture remains

Put the onions, courgette, carrots nuts and marmite in a food processor, until the mixture starts to bind together.

Stir in mushrooms, breadcrumbs or oats, herbs, stock and egg.

Chill for 30 minutes in the fridge

Fry in a little olive oil until brown. Can also be grilled, but in a pan.

An outing to the Iziko Museum

The Iziko Museum is in central Cape Town. It is a wonderful, imposing building at the top of the Company Gardens. But the contents are dreary, uninteresting and unbelievably badly presented.

We took the kids there for a morning out. They were bored. We were bored. And everyone around us was equally bored. It was cheap at R15 per adult, and children free – you once you had been through it you could see why!

We were informed that the Museum was under renovation. And the notice cheerily thanked us for our patience and informed us that the necessary renovations would be completed by 2007...
And this was the general tenor of the place. There were labels and indicators saying that this piece of crystal was from South West Africa and that piece from Rhodesia. Scruffy looking birds were labelled with such a tiny numerical indicator – that you needed a microscope to see it on the wall behind. There were ageing, tatty stuffed Lemurs and tired looking Anteaters. It was a truly depressing experience.

Perhaps the most interesting exhibit was a sorry looking 2 week old Quagga Foal (apparently the only one left on the planet). But placed in a dimly lit box, with a light switch above it which you could press (Yay! – some interaction at last) – but which then switched itself off before you could get a proper look at the thing!

There were some interesting whale sounds, as one contemplated a suspected skeleton of a Blue Whale; there were some really beautiful meteorites – but that, as they say, was that! I found it extraordinary that these unbelievable objects could be presented in as unimaginative a way as that! Just there – with a descriptive plaque and nothing more!

We adults were bored, because it was just that – boring. The kids were bored, because they are children of the 21st century. The youngest has seen hours of Animal planet. Why would he be remotely interested in a static, dead, stuffed animal?

Oh – and did I mention that the place wasn’t teeming with tourists? Gee - I wonder why?!

District 9 and why I liked it

Some of the write-ups have indicated that District 9 is, in an underlying kind of way, about apartheid. And I suppose, yes, shunting people off into sealed areas and treating them like animals is a little bit of what apartheid was about. But having just seen the movie, I think that is an extremely facile interpretation.

A spaceship hovers above Johannesburg. After a while, when the initial fascination wears off, the authorities decide the vessel should be boarded. What they discover there is hundreds of malnourished aliens, which look a little like Parktown Prawns (aka Libanisidus Vittatus) - on speed.

Now for those who don’t know these creatures (Parktown Prawns) – if you have lived in certain areas of Johannesburg, where they abound – you would know that living with them is a real trial. They are extremely ugly. They appear when you least expect them, and if you challenge them, they have a tendency to squirt a dark blue liquid all over the place and jump at you. No-one would want to keep them as a pet. There seems to be a fairly clear allusion to these in the movie, because the alien creatures are called, dismissively, “Prawns”.

The movie takes us into the relationship between humans and these aliens some way down the road. The “Prawns” have all been herded up and kept in compound squatter camps. There is a band of Nigerians who have seen the chance for making serious money in the supply of contraband. And there are the authorities, who, because of popular demand, have decided to evict the “Prawns” to a location further away from the city.

The human population is united across all sectors – race, gender, class. They want them removed. There are one or two slight impediments – such as “rights” which the aliens are seen to have, by the international community. So, there are a range of token nods in the direction of these “rights” but the general idea is clear. Come Hell or High Water – they will be removed.

The story is fairly blood-spattered and scattered with a range of villains. The sound effects, and the camera work spectacular. But there is one aspect which is really surprising. The aliens start to take on a significantly more humane character than their human “hosts”. Greed is the only determinant with the humans. They will stop at nothing to satisfy that greed. And the veneer of “rights” is just token adherence to the notion of ethics, rather than anything in any way substantial.

The lead character is nothing more than a naive and useful idiot, who has no idea that he is being used. The lead aliens don’t really have much personality – because their means of communication is a series of clicks and grunts, which makes engagement, for the audience at least, rather difficult. But the point is abundantly clear. The humans recognise none of their abilities. The aliens are dependent on human provision entirely. And that dependency creates a relationship of extreme and mostly one-sided violence on the part of the humans. They have no interest in the well being of the aliens. They only have interest in their own well-being. And these are degrees of exploitation.

The Nigerians (who also live in what is called a “camp”), in close proximity to the aliens, are the first level of exploitation. They believe that actually eating aliens will give them power. There are other more systematic, more clinical attempts at exploitation going elsewhere – but the theme is the same. It is simply a matter of level and degree.

And that is what I liked so much about the film. The violence is simply the outward symptom of an inner, almost psychotic impulse to dominate, rape and pillage. And when the whole scheme starts to come apart at the seams, then the media is there to lie and to spin and to distort reality. I think it is a really good movie. Go and see it!

Cape Town's New Airport Building

I went, yesterday, to inspect the new Cape Town Airport building. This is the building we have all been waiting for, with bated breath, and blisters on our feet because of the miles we Cairp Tahnians have to schlepp, because of the parking problems which there currently are. This is the building which, in brash architectural design, we have seen on hoardings hiding the concrete and steel and glass, which is going up behind it. This is the answer to all of our air travel problems.

Well, I have to say, I was thunderously disappointed. It’s not that it is unpleasant. It’s not that the double sided glass view of Table Mountain on the one side and the Hottentots Holland on the other, are shabby. It is not that there is anything particular wrong with the design – which we were told about in the tour, ad nauseam.

It is this – the fact that you could find just such a building in Holland, or Austria, or Sweden. There is absolutely nothing to distinguish it. It just looks like any other European airport – but with really nice views. To me, this is a major lost opportunity. I mean, here is a building costing gazillions of Billions of Rand, and what was the best they could come up with? A building that looked like hundreds of others!

We were told about the wall tiles – slate, silvery things. “Oh,” enthused the woman who was taking us on the tour “They are meant to look like the ships rusting in the harbour”. Yes. Sure they do... Oh, and the steel girder-like things, with light fittings on them? “Those,” she was now just short of a climax, “are supposed to look like the cranes in the harbour!”

Well, they don’t. They look OK, and not unattractive – but other than that, not much.

Cape Town and surrounds has, psychologically, so modeled itself on “somewhere else” – on Europe – that it remains steadfastly un-African. To its very core. And that is one of the reasons why it is such a frighteningly racist place. Because the dominant ethos belongs to a distant past, from which both the City, the surrounds and the people have never managed to extricate themselves.

The new airport building reinforces all that – pressed down and running over. It is depressing. It is ghastly.

Save us, dear lord, from more resolutions

The Anglican Church in South Africa – well, more specifically, the diocese of Cape Town, has taken a resolution. It could not be described as “groundbreaking” or “earth shattering”. It is really little more than a timid little whimper. According to the Cape Argus (24/08/2009) the resolution “ask(s) the Archbishop to request the synod of Bishops to provide pastoral guidelines for those of our members who are in covenanted relationships (sic – how they got into these, needs some explanation, seeing that the Church itself won’t allow this), taking due regard of the mind of the Anglican Communion”(Sic!)

Clarifying the resolution, the Dean, Rowan Smith – himself Gay, said that “the mixed signal which the church was sending out needed to be clarified”. (I’ll say!). “We allow gays and lesbians in same sex relationships to become reverends and bishops but refuse to acknowledge their relationships as valid. This causes confusion and we as the clergy have no idea how to advise people”.

This seems to have been followed by other extraneous issues, like that while South Africa has a constitution which accepts civil unions between same sex partners, other countries i9n the region do not. (The resolution, you will notice, immediately, is not that these countries SHOULD have things like the recognition of same-sex partnerships, but merely noting that they don’t – causing a bit of awkwardness and unpleasantness.

Well, that really blew my hair back. Don’t know about you!

30 years married - 18 years divorced

So, today is, or (I suppose more accurately) would have been my 30th Wedding anniversary – had we stayed married. Yes, I was married, at the tender age of 21, to an even more tender 19 year old girl.

We married out of love. That I am sure of. We lived together, fairly unhappily, but with moments of real joy, for 12 years. She knew I was gay from the start. But we were brave, and young and we didn’t see why sexual orientation should get in the way of love. We went against best advice - and probably what is now called best practise - and we married, in a ceremony in the little Anglican Church where I had grown up, in Johannesburg. The flowers she carried were daffodils and I cannot see a bunch, still today, without remembering us then, and her beauty and youth and loveliness.

Her mother disapproved strongly. Her father was dead many years – not dead to her though. Her brothers and sisters were reluctant participants in the wedding – as were mine. I never really knew why they just seemed not to like me. I didn’t think it mattered much, but of course, it always does. My sister and I had a major fight the night before the wedding – but she came. My one brother, who has not spoken to me for going on 25 years now, and his purse-lipped wife, attended, then fled our lives forever. The other sent wishes.

We lived at a time of struggle. We got married in a vacation period, in the middle of my degree in Cambridge. Soon, I was to leave to finish the degree, and she was to remain behind, lonely, amongst the virtual strangers of my family – but still brave and still in love.
I had promised her that there would be men down the road of our life together. And there were. And she knew it. She thought she could cope with that, but it became clear fairly soon, that she could not. And so, my liaisons became more secretive, more closeted, more furtive as the years wore on.

We lived in a time of struggle and facing the call-up into the racist South African Army, we fled to neighbouring Lesotho, where we lived happily – probably the most happily - for 3 years. There we joined the banned African National Congress and worked underground. We saw death and destruction. We made lifelong friends. We changed from the narrow racist white South Africans that we were by birth, to liberated people. That is what Lesotho gave to us. A lifelong, precious gift.

Next we went to Britain, me as a priest, she as a teacher of English to foreign students. She met one who wanted to marry her. There was a secret romance. The problem, and perhaps the curiosity, was that he was Muslim. So, I was not alone. I have often revisited the moment I knew for sure that the romance was on (and I have no idea how far it went). Was I jealous? No, I was not. What was I? I was angry that I had not been told. That was the issue. That was the matter. That was the substance. And ever since, I have vowed never to do that to the person I am with.

And I must ask now, it is possible to live with someone, love them completely and yet have sex with others? And I must answer that I do believe it is possible. I don’t think it is easy, and I don’t think it is necessarily wise, but I do believe it is possible. And I would say to the church, so quick to judge perched, as it sees itself, on the Summit of Mount Integrity, that it is perfectly clear that monogamy is practised more in the breach than the observance. If we all just stopped the farce and admitted that, the debate would move ahead in leaps and bounds. We badly need another model. We need rational discussion about it, at the very least. Because, it seldom happens. And when it does, it just does. I see nothing morally superior in it. And if one is going to REALLY listen to gay and lesbians about their way of living this life, then the church needs not to exclude what, for many of them, is an extremely positive experience. But Ah! – I am just dreaming here. The church is frantically struggling just to accept gay and lesbian Christians as fellow sinners – let alone valuing and learning from their experience!

And so my wife and I struggled with living our lives together. There was a great deal against us. Her emotional condition was not stable and she seemed to fight the very things which would have made it more stable. I think I was too young, too full of testosterone, too impulsive – maybe even too selfish, to help her. But I have said, and not only once, that had we been more mature about things then, we would probably still be together. (And I would still be gay).

Silly, underexposed, people, with very little imagination ask me, when I tell them that I was once married to a woman, “But were you able to have sex?” Of course we were able to have sex. When you are young, it really doesn’t take very much doing. I don’t think I was bi-sexual. I think I was gay. Just married to a woman, that is all.

Getting divorced was not pleasant for either of us. I doubt it ever is. One of the abiding benefits for me was that I stopped smoking. Somehow, it was the divorce which enabled me to do it – I have no idea why. Another positive was that I realised I could not live under the cloak of lies which the church demanded from me any longer. I could not keep silent about who I was, and so the divorce carried through to the church as well. And I actively went about looking for a male life-partner. I advertised, and I found one. And it was a happy thing.

And so looking back, I ask myself, do I regret it? Do I regret spending 12 years of my life, married to a woman? I think there was a time when I did, but that was caused mostly, by hurt and anger. My hurt and anger. But that did stop. We both did find lives for ourselves. And, remarkably, we have managed to stay in contact.

First, that contact was openly combative. Then it was competitive. Then it was calmer. And now it is slightly guarded, but affectionate. There have been times, even, when it has been supportive and caring. I am extremely glad we have that. I am glad to be able to connect with someone, whether it be by text message, or by call, that knows those 12 years of my life, like no-one else. Someone who knows me, like nobody else, because of that. Someone who has had a profound effect on me, because of that. I am glad we did not have children, because then our continued contact would, in all probability, be involuntary.

And so, looking back, from the hindsight of some considerable history, I am glad to say that those 12 years are not years I regard with horror. More with pride and some healthy nostalgia. And I am glad that the springtime daffodils still remind me of her.

Red Bean and Mushroom Burgers

I really like veg burgers. I probably prefer them to meat burgers, if I'm honest. But to get the right kind of mixture has been a bit of a mission. Here is one I really enjoy. The mixture is quite soft, so you need to be a bit careful, but the taste, as well as the result, is really good!

RED BEAN AND MUSHROOM BURGERS

1 small onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 t ground cumin
1 t ground coriander
½ 1 turmeric
1 ½ cups finely chopped mushrooms
400g can red kidney beans drained and rinsed
2 T chopped coriander
Wholemeal flour for forming the burgers
Salt and pepper

Fry onion and garlic until softened. Add cumin, ground coriander and turmeric and cook for a further minute, stirring constantly.

Add mushrooms and cook, stirring until softened and dry. Mash the beans with a fork and add to the mushroom mixture. Add fresh coriander, salt and pepper and mix well.

Using floured hands, form mixture into 4 flat burgers. If the mixture is too sticky, add flour.

Brush with oil and grill for 8 – 10 minutes, until golden brown.

Looking like your gender

The major controversy which has arisen, concerning the gender of South African athlete Caster Semenya has raised interesting (and rare!) public debate about the issue of gender. The fact that she looks like a boy, runs like a boy, sounds like a boy - but isn't a boy - is the point at issue. Add to the fact that she is black, and we have the contents of a really interesting debate but sadly, without really taking her feelings about the matter into account.

She is, after all, an eighteen year old. And eighteen years old is not old. I cannot imagine being eighteen again, and having my gender being the topic of public debate. But surprisingly, and so much to her credit, I heard her on the radio, saying she was extremely comfortable about who she is, and the public needs to get used to it - in words pretty much to that effect.

In my job, working in 2010 World Cup social legacy, I frequently encounter women who are built like men and who play soccer. There is, however, something quite close to a conspiracy of silence which operates around them. What I mean by that, is that the subject of gender, gender typing and especially sexual orientation, appears to be considered something which should not ever be raised and so we never do. With some of them, their build and their demeanor is, fairly obviously atypically female. But that fact is never alluded to or acknowledged. There is a sense in which, surely, that is the way it should be! In the sport, first and foremost, they are soccer players. Secondly, they are women. The way they look as women is really not the point and has very little to do with anybody else.

Nevertheless, as I have mentioned, even though the atypification is there and it is obvious, it is a taboo subject. And that makes me a bit suspicious about what the real motivation is. Is it that we are all completely relaxed about it? That we, as South Africans are so free from gender typification that discussion on the matter would be superfluous? That would be nice, but I doubt it. Is it, possibly, that lurking behind every woman with a manly body, is a Lesbian? I am sure that this could explain at least some of the avoidance. Or, is it that the possibility of being intersexed is so profoundly unpleasant to most people, that it cannot ever be considered, let alone discussed?

I read some time ago, that the proportion of intersexed people in the human population could be as high as 1% of live births. Now, that is astonishingly high and, if it is even vaguely accurate, it means that the issue of intersexuality is a prevalent and very well hidden secret in our society.

Caster Semenya has established herself as the fastest woman on the planet in the 800m at the World Athletics Championship in Berlin, Germany. She ran the distance in one minute 55.45 seconds. Immediately, there were questions about her gender. Suddenly, the matter of intesexuality and intersex people were the topic of conversation on the radio and the television in a way that has simply never happened before.

And, as the discussion developed, yet another element arose, that of her colour and her origins. The argument was (inaccurately, as it happens) made that had she been white, the issue of her gender would not have been raised. The shadow of Sarah Baartman loomed large - the woman from the Eastern Cape who, because of the (then considered) odd shape of her body, was taken to Europe and put naked on display for the amusement of European audiences.

For the first (and maybe even the second aspect) I think our country owes a great debt of respect and gratitude to Caster Semenya. This whole business could not have been easy for her. And she has dealt with the extraordinary level of hot air and genuine debate with dignity and restraint. The country should be hugely proud of her because of what she has achieved, not only on the track, but also in this extraordinary debacle about her gender. As the Colleen Lowe Morna, executive director of Gender Links said: "We should celebrate Semenya on her return not just because she is bringing back a gold medal, but because she has refused to conform to societal norms and expectations."

And the issue of Sarah Baartman should not be simply dismissed, as I have sometimes heard it, as a matter of "dragging race into everything". What happened to Sarah Baartman could be described as a defining moment in the history of South Africa. A Khoisan woman, with bodily features which were not typical of Europe, was captured, enslaved, hauled off to Europe where she was stripped of her clothes and her dignity, prodded, poked, displayed and used for titillation and entertainment, turned into an alcoholic and when she died, had her brain and genitals pickled and kept on display in a museum in France. There can be no doubt whatsoever that the treatment of this woman has had the most profound effect on our people - and will do forever.

And it is this memory, deep in the soul of the nation, which has given rise to the accusation that the demand to test the gender of Caster Semenya is the same mindset which displayed and examined Sarah Baartman. It may be. But that is not to say that therefore, we in South Africa can simply sweep all issues of gender, sexual orientation and intersex under the carpet of silence.

Picture: Caster Semenya (Oliver Morino, AFP)

Homocentric pictures of Jesus

Becki Jayne Harrelson: Judaskiss

Signorelli: The flagellation of Christ

Frances Farmer on the cross - source unknown

Elizabeth Ohlson-Wallin: Krucifix

Maerten can Heemskerck: Man of Sorrows

Giotto: The kiss of Judas

Hans Schaufelein : Crucifixion (1515)

These are some of the images I have collected over the years, of what I would call "homocentric" images of Jesus. The obvious ones, are, of course, those by Elizabeth Ohlson-Wallin and Becki Jayne Harrelson. But the others are interesting as well. The image of Frances Farmer on the cross is a "Christa" or female Christ. The homoerotic images of Giotto and Van Heemskerck are also extremely interesting from a Gay and Lesbian perspective, as a comparitive. And then there is the really singular crucifixion by Schafelein - which, I suppose, might be anybody's guess!

In their own image : Hetero-normative images of Jesus

One of the things which struck me most about Leo Steinberg's amazing book, The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion (University of Chicago Press, 1983,1996), is a throwaway statement he makes fairly late in the book, that naked pictures of Jesus are fairly rare in the Renaissance - and where they are found, he is uncircumcised. Isn't that astonishing?! This, despite the fact that the Feast of the Circumcision was observed in the church from the 6th Century onwards, and took root in the Roman Church from the 11th Century. That is a hell of a lot of cultural reinforcement on a yearly basis! Yet, the Renaissance artists could not envisage Jesus as being different from them, and circumcision was certainly nothing which they would have practised.

A long time ago, in my life, I taught in a rural Catholic School in Lesotho. On the walls of every class there was hanging a picture by Holman Hunt- “Light of the World”. It is a well known picture, with a thoroughly Euro-centric Jesus, with European features and blond hair. That is the picture a class full of black African children saw every day of their high school years. That is the picture they will have in their minds, for all their lives, of Jesus.

And is it any different, in relation to the hetero-normative aspect. Because children (and indeed adults) are never made to encounter Gay or Lesbian depictions of Jesus, it is not within their mental vocabulary. I found, to my interest, that when I showed a variety of images to groups of Gay or Lesbian Christians, that they actively expressed a preference for heterocentric depictions, rather than homocentric ones. Therein, surely, lies a tale!

The images above are: 1. Holman Hunt: Light of the World; 2. Becki Jayne Harrelson: The Crucifixion of Christ; 3. Michaelangelo Crucifixion; 4. Carl Bloch: Crucifixion; 5. Rubens: Crucifixion.

If any of the images above are owned by anyone, I am happy to acknowledge ownership or to remove them.

Homocentric images of the last supper

Three very different images of the "Last Supper" - all, I would say, with their own integrity - all making a point for their time. The first one is of 'Bears', clustering around a drag queen (as Jesus). The second is also homo-erotic - but with women as the focus. The last is the well known Michaelangelo.

Depending on one's prejudices, each will have their own triggers for the viewer. 'Bears', for instance, are a particular sub-category of gay culture. The fact that most of us gay white men end up bears, is either a sad (or a happy) reality!

The wymyn in the second picture, I will grant you, look a bit as though they are extras for the set of "The L-Word". But pictured as they are, and clustered in this traditional pose, they make a particular point.

The thing I wonder, is not why would straight people find these images offensive - as they probably would. What continues to confuse me, is why Gay and Lesbian people would - (which, in my experience of showing them, they often do). The answer lies, I would think, in the complete dominance of explicitly hetero-normative imagery in the Christian church, even when the theme itself lends itself to homocentric interpretation, such as this one.

Stella's Cabbage Bredie

Bredies come in every shape and form in the Cape. This was one I grew up with and must come from my mother's Cape heritage. It is really simple, but the result is fabulous.

CABBAGE BREDIE

1 large onion, sliced
1 cabbage, sliced
4 potatoes, chopped
1 kg lamb’s neck
Salt and pepper
Oil

Brown the onions in a little oil. Brown the lamb’s neck in the onions. If you are using a pressure cooker, add water to the pot and pressure cook for about 20 mins (after the pot reaches pressure). If you are not, you will need to braise the lamb’s neck for about 1 ½ hours (possibly 2!) until it is tender. Only when it is tender, add the chopped potatoes and sliced cabbage, on top of the meat in the pot, place a lid on it and cook on a medium temp until both the potatoes and the cabbage are tender.

Cook until dry, and allow the bottom of the pot to burn a little. (This gives the Bredie its taste). When all is tender (and you should test this) mix it all up. Take it off the heat and allow to stand for about 15 minutes – then stir it again. The browning at the bottom of the pot will now be soft and be willing to be mixed into the dish. Add salt to taste (and it might need quite a bit).

Serve on rice, with Worcester sauce.

Mary and the language of symbol

So, this past Sunday was the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin. I took a non churchy friend of mine with me, because the service promised to be fairly spectacular. It's an ultra High kind of church, and this kind of feast day lends itself to an explosion of ceremony.

We had the usual bells, whistles, incense enough to choke on, white vestments. Did we stop there? No - we had a full orchestral Mass with 4 soloists singing the Haydn Missa in honorem Beatissimae Virginis Mariae, commonly known as the Grosse Orgelmesse. This was all followed by a fundraising lunch in the hall. (They don't do things in small measures in my church, I can tell you.)

But when my friend asked me, innocently, what it was we were celebrating - I had to pause for a moment or two. "The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary" - I answered brightly. She looked at me quizzically, waiting for the punch-line. "Er...", I stumbled on, "that is about when the Blessed Virgin Mary was assumed into heaven."

"Assumed"? she asked - "Who assumed? Did someone assume that is where she went?" Mercifully, at that point the priest started speaking - uncharacteristically, at the beginning of the service to say that one of the orchestra had an "episode" - (I think was the word he used) - and that explained the ambulance outside.

In his sermon, the priest started by drawing attention to the sheer oddity of the feast:

"When was the last time you saw a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon beneath her feet and on her head a crown of twelve stars? Not even in the Cape Quarter at New Year would you see such a sight, unless you were high on something. Yet this woman is the person whom we encounter in the Introit proper of today’s mass, which is quoting from the Revelation of St John the Divine: A woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and on her head a crown of twelve stars. With this language, strange and unworldly, we enter into the world of the apocalyptic.

An apocalyptic world view pushes us to edge of the symbolic world, a world where image defines a deeper reality and where flights of fantasy take us into a new world. It is a world of hopes, deeper than the power of the human imagination..."

Yes, indeed. This is the world of fantasy. It cannot be literal. It cannot be real. It is as camp as a row of pink tents! The word Apocalypsis in the Greek, means the act of revelation - but really, we have lost that ability, that apocalyptic ability these days. And it all just comes out weird, strange, extraordinary and... well ... colourful, to say the least!

Does that, or should that stop sensible people from going to Church? I am sure it is a barrier to some - and so be it. The stuff my children understand, like Bakugans - the strange things my six year old demanded for his birthday - is pretty opaque to me, I promise you. They inhabit, in many ways, as different a universe to mine, as mine is to that which clothes the Blessed Virgin Mary in moons and stars. It is just bits of a lost language. It meant something important once, and all we can get of it now, is a kind of feint residue - an echo - a mist.

Undoubtledly, motherhood is a powerful image. But we denude it of its essential value, if we simply accord it to all mothers. There are, after all, terrible mothers - mothers who don't give a damn; mothers who should be in jail; mothers who damage and hurt and destroy. Not all mothers are good.

The symbol of Mary points all of us - in the strange, curious imagery and iconography to another form - a perfect form, a form, if you like, taken appropriately into "heaven" (which is, of course, yet another symbol).

For Gay and Lesbian Christians, the symbol of Mary is one for those of us who are outsiders in a patriarchal (and heteronormative) church, where the phallus holds eternal sway. It speaks to the downtrodden, to the milked, to the millions of women in the world who are controlled by men - and by inference the millions of us who are controlled by heterosexuals. It is a powerful symbol. because it says - this is a picture of what could be, what should be.

Gender issues and children

Our youngest, Joshua (alias "Bin Laden"), is having his 6th birthday tomorrow. Being Sunday, we pretended it was today. He got weird things called "Bakugans" which are extraordinarily expensive plastic balls, which, when placed on a specific card - open up into some kind of robotic thing. (Apparently, the card has a magnet in it, which allows it to do this). Personally, I can't see the attraction - but then I'm not 6.

Another present which he had been given by a friend was an assortment of wigs and various bits and pieces of a wizardry outfit. He wasn't in the slightest bit interested in the wigs - but our eldest child (7), Gabriel, was. In fact, he has worn one of the damn things the entire day. It is, for him, the equivalent of someone paying off my bond; a night with Brad Pitt - you get the picture.

We have such completely different children. Josh is a boy - completely, uncomplicatedly and with no discussion necessary. The other, from the day he was born, has been fairly undecided. No, I am being a bit too vague here. He has always been completely absorbed and fascinated by the feminine side of his personality. (The male side is often, quite hard to see).

So, what have we done about it? Well, we have taken a couple of decisions in relation to the both of them. Firstly, we have allowed them to be who they best feel they are, within the space of the home. So, when Gabriel insists on turning ordinary pieces of clothing into girl's fashion pieces, we let him do it. We don't praise him, but we also don't forbid him or censure him. His brother looks at him like he is out of his mind and never participates in the dressing up regime. We allow him the space to do that as well.

Sometime into the business of parenting of Gabriel, I started to get alarmed by his behaviour - he could not have been more than 4 years old. When I spoke to friends about it, I was told "It's perfectly normal. It's just a phase". Eventually, I called a gender specialist therapist and talked to her about the behaviour. She listened attentively and then said the following" She said "Maybe you just have to reconcile yourself to the fact that you are living with a trans-gendered person". I swallowed hard and realised that she was talking the truth.

She said that counselling could not begin before the age of 9 and that (and this really got me agitated) gender re-assignment could not be allowed before the age of 20. Gender re-assignment! Dear God! How radical is that? I said to my partner - "Can't he just be Gay, for God sake?" But I realized immediately, the stupidity of what I was saying.

The fact of the matter is, our eldest child has, since he was able to move, explored every possible angle of being a girl. In dress. In the way he walks. In pretend "modelling". In speech and mannerisms. That is what he does.

He doesn't seem to do it all the time. But it is a constant and certainly not something one could ignore. We thought, at one time, that he crossed dressed when he was feeling insecure about something, but I don't believe that any more. He just does it. There is no pattern as to when he does it.

When he first went to primary school, he wanted desperately to fit in. He cut off his dreads and looked very much like a boy. He gave up ballet, (which at pre-primary school, he loved). But the boy phase didn't last very long. He is doing ballet again and cross-dressing at will. So, perhaps I need to come to terms with what the therapist said - and just get used to the fact that my child may be trans-gendered. For him it will be a long, hard path, if he is. For us, it won't be an easy path either - but at least he has parents who won't judge him.

There will be those, of course, who will argue that it is because he has grown up with same-sexed parents that he has these peculiarities. It is, of course, a silly argument, because many trans-gendered people have grown up in heterosexual environments. It also wouldn't explain why our youngest son is so absolutely male. My view is, that is just the way he is and we either support him, or he has to swim on his own.

So as I curse my friend for having delivered a variety of wigs to our home, for whatever reason, Leon says to me, simply, as I cast my eyes discretely heavenwards, "It makes him happy". Maybe, in the end, that is all that really counts.

I don't want to write any script for him. I want him to be the person he wants to be. So, it could be the easier path - he could suddenly enter another, much more obviously male phase. Or, he may not. Either way, we will be there for him.

Observations on Maropeng

Maropeng Visitor Centre - Cradle of Humankind World Heritage Site

When we built Maropeng, we took a risk. The building was on a piece of land which had been donated to the state by Standard Bank. I personally needed to twist their corporate arm, to let us have a site which was going to have a view - because it seemed to me to be fairly worthless to have one which did not. We succeeded, and the site they gave us is magnificent - probably one of the best views anywhere in Gauteng.

But the risk was that, then, it seemed really far out of town, both for Johannesburg and for Pretoria. Of course, in the 10 or so years since the listing of the Cradle of Humankind as a World Heritage Site, the distance seems to have become less - because that is just what happens over the years.

On our recent visit there, these are some of the things I noticed:

1. The roads, which we spent millions upon millions on, have deteriorated very badly. There is one simple reason - heavy trucks using them. The traffic has increased on those roads very substantially.; When we started the project, most of the roads in the area were gravel - and gravel with a whole lot of ditches and holes in it. The moment the roads were tarred, trucks and heavy vehicles began to use them. We had huge fights with some of the landowners - who didn't seem to be able to make up their minds about the roads. On the one hand, they wanted them, on the other, they didn't like the consequences - viz., the trucks and heavy loaders. We argued that they were public roads - and therefore could not limit who used them.

I think we were wrong. We should have placed serious limitation on those roads - in terms of height restriction, in terms of speed restriction, and in terms of allowable weight of vehicle.

2. The other thing I noticed, is that all of the plans for beautification has not happened. This means that the area looks ordinary, rather than extraordinary. We had plans to put stone cairns up all over the place. We had plans to make the traffic circles in the area artistic sites. And two years down the track, none of this seems to have happened.

3. Maropeng itself is an amazing draw-card. We fought epic battles to get the operator to make the experience into a "wow" experience and that it now is. I have brought various guests there over the past two years, and I have seem just what kind of an impact it has on them. It is profound. Sterkfontein is also wonderful. It has a peace and a serenity about it which is quite wonderful.

4. I saw how well the place is being used - and by black people especially. Black school kids, black teenagers, black tourists. That is an amazing change which has happened over the past number of years - and it will have an amazing impact into the future - because those teenagers will bring their children there in years to come.

5. Talking of which, there is still not a great deal for children to do. I mean children - not teenagers. This is extremely short-sighted on the part of the operators.

6. I noticed that some of the Maropeng site is starting to look a bit tatty. Awnings needed fixing; outside chairs needed replacement; machines in the exhibition needed fixing. This is one of the problems with a Public Private Partnership - Government has very little control over how the private part of the relationship works or runs its business.

But again - I was deeply impressed by everything which we worked 7 years to achieve. And proud beyond words to have been part of such an amazing and historic creatio ex nihilo.

Finding synergy in World Heritage

Sunset at Maropeng Hotel

The Cradle of Humankind World Heritage Site is, and will always be, the love of my career. I loved the complexity of the project. I loved the storyline, which incorporated the whole of human existence, and more - and more! I loved the extraordinary vision which the project projected. I loved the grandeur, the ability to actually encounter one's ancestors.

I am here, staying at the Maropeng Hotel, accompanying local politicians, in the hope to persuade them that much the same can (and should!) be done in the Western Cape. This is my rationale:

THE WINELANDS CULTURAL LANDSCAPE

The Winelands region of the Western Cape is presently

listed on the tentative list for consideration of the World Heritage Committee, for possible listing as a World Heritage Site.

The advantage of having the site listed as a World Heritage Site are numerous, amongst which are the following:

World recognition for the area;
Careful control of development in the site, in order to preserve the integrity of the site;
Increased tourism opportunity and potential;
Employment and job creation;
Environmental norms and standards set and maintained through agreements with landowners.

The Cape Winelands is critical to an understanding of the Province. Indeed it has been argued that the Cape Winelands is the single most important key to understanding the social and political development of the province – and by extension – South Africa as a whole. It was the Cape Winelands which set the pattern of relationships between colonisers and colonised; slave and master; land owners and farm workers down the centuries. The development of the Cape Winelands has left an indelible imprint on the history of our country and the effects of that relationship are still with us today.

The Cape Winelands, linked inevitably with the Castle in Cape Town, remains the single most obvious and significant link to the shape and circumstance of our colonial past. It speaks powerfully to a story of social inequality, social norms and continuing challenges which both continue and persist. It also is the showcase for a range of initiatives to redress this past and contribute to the social transformation of the region and the country.

The Cape Winelands showcases a critical link between the past and the present and is played out in a range of social inequalities, both in terms of social practise, opportunities and benefits which the few have generally maintained and benefited from and which the many have been denied.

THE CRADLE OF HUMANKIND

The Cradle of Humankind World Heritage Site was listed as a World Heritage Site in 1999. The Gauteng Provincial Government, under its “Blue IQ” programme, moved quickly to secure the benefits of this listing and made an amount of R350m available for infrastructure development and the development of the site as a whole. The site is vast (48 000ha) and is almost entirely privately owned. Sterkfontein, along with all of the fossil sites in the area, is on private land. The rest of the site is owned by some1200 landowners, (one of whom owns approximately 40% of the site as an individual).

When the site was listed, roads leading to the site were poor and infrastructure in the site negligible. The area was one of the poorest and least desirable areas of Gauteng. Sterkfontein Caves, the most well known and most significant of the fossil sites, had a tiny café run by Rotary and an exhibition which was minute and less than attractive. There was no visitor centre at all, and besides the guides available at the caves, no interpretation of the site at all.

The project secured 100ha of land as a donation from Standard bank (on a farm owned by the bank) called Mohale’s Gate. This site was just off the World Heritage Site and therefore development could take place on it, which would not compromise the integrity of the World Heritage Site itself, nor set undesirable precedents for the World Heritage Site itself. It was on this site that the major visitor centre for the Cradle of Humankind was built (called Maropeng – place of bones), a mostly underground Tumulus building, which is multi-functional and, which because of its character and approach, is designed to take pressure of the Sterkfontein caves, which is only capable of a limited through-flow of tourists. Sterkfontein was also developed, but in a much more discrete way. The capital cost for this development was R163m and the development took place as a Public Private Partnership (PPP).

Complementary developments, of roads and other infrastructure took place, to enable easy access to, through, and around the site. These were a major source of employment for the duration of the project.

The effect of the Cradle of Humankind development on the area has been profound. Tourism has increased rapidly, way surpassing projections. There was an increase in tourism associated businesses and product owners in the area (from 60 in 2000 to 417 in April 2008). In addition, land prices in the area have soared and jobs (7000 permanent and 2200 casual as of April 2008) have been created through an increase in the tourism industry and through infrastructure.

The Cradle of Humankind World Heritage Site in Gauteng shares many similarities with the Cape Winelands:

It is on a vast land area, with significant sites scattered around it;
It is, mostly, privately owned;
It is a scientific and cultural resource (COH: palaeontology – Cape Winelands: viticulture) which can be harnessed and profiled for community benefit;
It is extraordinarily scenic;
It has a history of exclusion and elitism;
If government does not take the lead in the development of the site, it is likely to become highly exploited by private developers;
It presents a unique opportunity for community access and community development;
It provides a strong opportunity for creative, cultural and business development.

Now the difference, as I see it, between the Western Cape Province and Gauteng (which is where the Cradle of Humankind is situated) is the fact that the Gauteng provincial government put some R350m into the project. And a team was appointed to ensure that the site was made into a world class tourism destination. I believe the same is possible in the Western Cape - provided that there is the will to do it!

Aung San Suu Kyi. Release her.

Today in London - apparently

If ever there was a world leader who deserves our support - this is she!

Follow the link above to post your 64 words for Aung - better late than not at all.

Sweet Potato Bread

I went through a phase, some years back, when baking bread was the major thing I wanted to cook. I even had a bread-maker given to me as a present - which is an amazing thing indeed and which is guaranteed to put on as many unwanted kilos as you can imagine! You put all the ingredients into it, switch it on, set the timer and bread comes out when you need it, piping hot and perfect.

There are two draw-backs. Firstly, don't ever lose the recipe book which accompanied the bread-making machine, because then you are really buggered. You can't just put any recipe into it. The recipes are utterly specific and if you are not exact in your measurements, all hell breaks loose.

Secondly, I really like working with the dough. With the bread-maker, there never is a dough - (unless of course, that is the setting you put it onto, but then I don't quite see the point!). So, back to the old tried and tested...

Here is a really simple, and really delicious recipe for Sweet Potato bread. It is virtually idiot proof:

Sweet Potato Bread

1 medium sweet potato
4 cups of brown bread flour
1 t ground cinnamon
1 t dried yeast
1 ¼ C warm milk
Salt and ground black pepper
(optional) 2/3 C walnut pieces


Boil sweet potato in water for 45 minutes. Pour off water and cool in cold water.

Sift flour and cinnamon into large bowl. Mix in dried yeast.

Drain and peel sweet potato. Mash and mix in with flour with a rounded knife into a rough dough. Knead on a floured surface for 5 minutes.

Return to the bowl, cover with cling wrap and stand in a warm place until doubled in size – approximately 1 hour.

Grease 900g loaf tin with non-stick spray.

Knock back dough and shape into the size of the tin. Cover with a cloth and let it rise until doubled in size.

Preheat oven to 200°C

Bake for approx 20 mins

Turn out onto a wire rack to cool.

Queer discussions with a Bishop

A Bishop of the Anglican Church in South Africa, who will remain nameless, recently invited me in for some discussion on the 'Queer' issue. Now, let me start by saying, he is a good guy. He has a long history of involvement in the struggle for justice and equality in South Africa. He is sensible. He reads (which is a huge pleasure to behold!) and he is extremely thoughtful. But more than that, he values the opinions of others, which is not necessarily a common episcopal trait.

I understand (though I did not ask) that he is straight. But despite this handicap, he undoubtedly has a passion for issues of justice and queer justice being one of them. How rare is that, I ask you? And I wonder how much easier it would be for Christian Queers, if there were more people in positions of authority in the Church who did start with a passion for justice, in all its myriad needs and forms, and only then proceed to a discussion about homosexuality and whether or not Anglicans should allow; ordain; consecrate or marry homosexuals. I have a suspicion, things would be a lot easier, if a pre-requisite to the debate was a committment, not just in word, but in deed, to those issues of social justice.

Anyway, I had taken him one or two books to read. The one which he enjoyed the most was Leo Steinberg's The Sexuality of Christ in Rennaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion (University of Chicago Press, 1983 (revised 1996). It is an extraordinary book, unbelievably well researched and hugely informative.

The other, was a book I have already reviewed on this site - The Queer God, by Marcella Althaus-Reid - which had the desired effect of blowing him away - just because that is what it does! I sent him my review as well, and it was this which he homed in on, in our discussion. In it, I made the following points:

• We Queers are only allowed to speak, if it is in the language and grammar of the hegemonic power. We are not allowed to explore our own language, our own culture, our own norms, our own reality. That is the dungeon to which we are confined, within the church and the dominant theology.
• In the end, in the fullness of time, we Queers will make ourselves heard. And not in a way which accepts that the dominant heterosexual project is the right one and that we somehow fit in with that. Queer Theologians are saying, "you have got it thumpingly wrong!" If we are excluded, if we are kept at the gate, if our voices are silent and if our culture and practice is condemned and excluded, you are wrong! Do not think for a moment that we will give up the struggle, or that we will be marginalized or silenced. Because the God is not a heterosexual God. In fact, that God is a blasphemy, an abhorrence and a sham.

The Bishop drew my attention to what I had said in a review of the book (i.e. the above) and said it sounded "angry". I was surprised about this, because I do not feel particularly angry. Mostly, I feel resigned, because I know that eventually, the Church will be dragged kicking and screaming into a more reasonably position than it has at the moment - eventually.

And then, secondly, the issue which perplexed him was, of course, the issue of my questioning the rightness of the hetero-normative church on its views relating to single, committed partnerships - as a model of marriage.

I said that I did not necessarily have a problem with it. What I have a problem with is the absolute refusal to even consider anything else! That is no way to have a debate. That is certainly no way to "listen" to those on the other side! You cannot, in any negotiation, start with the bottom line!

His point, about the debate was interesting. He said, granted, that was probably the bottom line for them. But what was the actual objective. If one starts with that point, we will probably never get any further. And the objective is, he would have thought, to kind of "get a toe in the door", as it were.

Although, at the time, I think I agreed with his position, on reflection it sounds very much like those who, during apartheid, argued that blacks and others in the liberation struggle, should pitch themselves a little lower than the full take-over of power from the white minority. A range of mechanisms were suggested: tri-cameral parliaments; bantustans; separate development etc etc. None of them worked, because the black majority, and those of us who fought alongside them, refused to accept "crumbs from the master's table".

I would suggest that it is much the same with the women's struggle and I would suggest it is much the same for us Queers. It is actually inauthentic to suggest anything else.

A new child

Jacqui and her new son Amila

The moment - Jacqui's mother, Bernadette and brother Andrew holding Amila.

My friend Jacqui has just adopted a child. The waiting for this moment has been long and laboured. I wonder why this seems to be the norm? I wonder why, in a country wracked with HIV, poverty, unemployment, violence and often completely unthinking sexual behaviour, it seems to take the social services so incredibly long to sort out the match between obviously able parent and obviously needy child?

It was really no different in our case. Despite that fact that I kept on changing my mind about it, when all was said and done and decided, we still had to wait months and months for our first child. And the second spent months and months waiting for us apparently, because we could have taken him three months before he actually was given to us! Those three extra months, were fairly critical in his development. When 6 month old Joshua arrived, he was a bit like a zombi. He seemed to have no emotions. He just stared around him - never crying, or gurgling, or doing any of the other social things which babies of 6 months are supposed to do.

Luckily, the light did switch on - and Joshua today, is the most animated child imaginable. But there has been damage. His motor movements are not what they should be. His writing and drawing is extremely bad and he needs Occupational Therapy to see him right. All because of the level of under-stimulation which he received in those crucial early months.

Jacqui's little boy (named by his birth-mother, Amila) has been in foster care - and though this might mean that he has other problems, he certainly does not seem to be under-stimulated. He is bright, alert, aware and self-confident. A beautiful little boy.

As we sat there, in Jacqui's maginificent Hout Bay house, overlooking a wonderful valley, amongst her friends and family, I could not help think back on the welcome parties we had for both our boys, some 6 and 7 years ago now, and started to enumerate in my mind the absolute joy which these children have brought into our lives. As I have said before, in previous postings, I may not be the world's most natural parent, but our children have undoubtedly made me a better, a more fulfilled person. A more whole person. That is what children can do, it seems, if you let them.

I remember the first time their grandparents met our eldest child, Gabriel. What we were doing was not the expected. It was, perhaps, not what they had dreamed for their son. They came from Harding - a tiny town in KwaZulu-Natal. Their exposure to situations like this was limited. But if they did have difficulties, though, they had determined they would overcome them. And they have proved themselves to be the most supportive and most loving of grandparents through the years.

I watched as Jacqui's mother arrived, also from KwaZulu-Natal, to meet her grandson for the first time. I watched her eyes, as they first set eyes on her new grandchild, Amila. If there was uncertainty before, (and there must have been) there was none at that moment. Because immediately, the bond had happened. I spoke to Jacqui about this two nights ago. I said to her, wasn't it amazing how that thing happens? That thing which is hard-wired into our make-up as human beings. The way in which once you meet your child, you change as a human being. You cross from being an observer, to being a player. From being a relative, or a friend, or a helper, or a next-door-neighbour, to being a father or a mother. The switch is thrown. You will never be the same again. And then a grand-mother or grand-father. You have changed into something else. You can't ever go back.

On our children's birthdays, Leon and I write a letter to them in a book. We write about what is happening around us and what is happening in our lives. We write about our pains and our sorrows and our joys and our pleasures. We tell them about themselves - what we see in them; what we hope for; what they have done in the past year; what they have said, what they have achieved. We will give it to them, when they are 21, as a word-scape of our journey together. Because it has been, so far, a wonderful one.

Our children, Gabriel and Joshua, are both very different from each other. I have no doubt that they will journey on very different paths. But, for sure, the one thing which will bind them together is Leon and me, and our family and families. That is a constant they can rely on.

And so, Jacqui, I welcome you to this strange and bewildering state of being that is parenthood. I know, without any doubt that you will face both joy and anguish. You will know love (like you have never known it before) and moments of the deepest despair. And above all of that, you will experience the thrill of guiding another human being on this exciting path called life.

Old Pictures of Greenmarket Square - Cape Town

Greenmarket Square Slave Market, Cape Town

Rights to this picture are owned by The Western Cape Provincial Archive

Greenmarket Square, Cape Town

Rights to this picture are owned by the Western Cape Provincial Archive


Greenmarket Square

Rights to this picture are owned by the Western Cape Provincial Government

I work on Greenmarket Square. It is a really vibey cobbled square in the centre of the CBD, with good restaurants all around it and interesting looking buildings looking over it. The Square has a very long history, dating back to the slave trade, when slaves were bought and sold at the market, but for the most part, the square was the centre of trade in goods and supplies to the hundreds of ships that passed the Cape of Good Hope en route to the Indies.

The Square was originally known as the Burgher Watch Square and was built on the corner of Short and Longmarket streets in 1696. It soon became a fruit and vegetable market, obviously from where the name derives and in 1961 it was declared a national monument tied to the history of slavery. Slaves used a tavern next to the Old Town House for drinking and gambling. There was also a fountain on the square from which slaves fetched water.

Important notices and proclamations were read from the balcony of the Town House, including the slave code, which read:

* Slaves must go barefoot and must carry passes.
* Any slave who stops in the street to talk to other slaves may be beaten.
* No meeting in bars, no buying of alcohol, no groups on public holidays.
* No gathering near church doors during a service.
* Any slave out after dark must carry a lantern.
* Curfew - slaves must be indoors by 22:00.
* No singing, whistling or noise at night.
* Not allowed to own and carry guns.
* Flogging and chaining for insulting a free man or making false accusations.
* Any slave who dares to strike a slave-holder must be put to death.
* Free black women are not allowed to be as well dressed as respectable burghers' wives and they must carry passes.

Presently, in time for the 2010 FIFA World Cup, the Square is being fairly extensively upgraded.

Some fabulous images of old Cape Town

Cape Town : Waterfront

Rights to this picture are owned by the Western Cape Provincial Archives

Cape Town: Adderley Street

Rights to this picture are owned by the Western Cape Provincial Archives

Flower Sellers in Adderley Street

Rights to this picture are owned by the Western Cape Provincial Archives.

These photos are hanging in my place of work. During meetings, especially the dull ones in one particular boardroom, I find myself staring at them, trying to imagine myself back into that time. It is a wonderful exercise. I still have not quite worked out, after having lived in Cape Town for 2 years now, how they managed to reclaim quite as much of the land back from the sea that they have. When you are in Woodstock, it really doesn't look as though people could have been swimming on a beach nearby! Similarly, when you note that one of the main streets in Cape Town city is called Strand (Beach) Street - there isn't a beach anywhere vaguely near it!

But the flower sellers are still on Adderley street. I think they are having a really rough time of it in these times of economic recession - but they are still there!