My Short Stories & Poems
THE ALPHABET OF MOTIVATION
by Raymond Chait
30 August 1992
Abraham Maslow’s theory on Motivation states that human needs must be satisfied.
Frederick Herzberg’s theory on Motivation argues that manipulating the elements that cause dissatisfaction (Hygiene Factors) cannot significantly increase satisfaction, although it may decrease dissatisfaction. Only by increasing the Motivators, may satisfaction be increased.
James March and Herbert Simon offer a dynamic model of behaviour with satisfaction being viewed as a balance between input from Expected Value of reward and levels of aspiration.
Lyman Porter and Edward Lawler show a more direct relationship between performance and satisfaction, with the prediction that performance leads to satisfaction.
Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet, explains life’s learning processes as those which elevate us beyond the threshold of our existing knowledge.
Vincent van Gogh awakens in us a desire to savour and enjoy a multiplicity of experiences: “To know life is to love many things.”
Friend Rowan M.S. advises us that if you can do something, leave it and try something else.
Let us now be daring and share an eclectic view, which we will integrate from empirical experiences only…
Motivation springs from an aroused desire to improve and move forward along life’s compulsory course.
We cannot elect to remain static…
We stand to lose our competitive edge if we are not constantly enthused to improve on our existing framework of knowledge.
The penalty is that we will fall behind and remain like Mr. Hermit, on our lonesome!
There are 5 groups of people: those who wait, those who wander, those who wonder, those who watch, and those who make things happen. Which group do we want to slot into?
Life is tough.
We are forced to take on the whole journey, so we will make the most of it, absorbing all the scenery along the way…
The A to Z of Motivation:
A…. ACTIVATE DORMANT POTENTIAL:
Assess our strengths, and turn our weaknesses into opportunities, by working on them.
B… BALANCE OUR MINDS, BODIES AND SOULS:
Move these three inextricably-linked components harmoniously and simultaneously forward. Plug any leaks that drain energy, so that we blend these three in order to excel. We will feel lively and almost ethereal, as we find ourselves soaring to greater heights.
C… CREATE CHALLENGES:
We must cultivate curiosity, channeling all our energies in a positive direction. How can we then ever be bored or passive, if activity sparks our guiding light?
D… DO:
Doing is the thing. Never procrastinate. There is only NOW. Yesterday is a memory and tomorrow is a dream away. Each moment lost, is lost forever. Let us begin our work now, and view it as a learning exercise. Physical work is an exercise to improve the body. Studying is exercise for the mind. We are always in need of spiritual upliftment too.
E… EVALUATE OUR PRIORITIES:
Extra effort is essential to programme each day…
Organise the minute to organise the hour to organise the day to organise our lives. Planning ahead is healthy, as it gives us previews, so that we can behave proactively and avert the potholes along life’s road.
F… FUSSING AND FAFFING ARE OUT…
Get on with it! A busy person gets things done. Put on a horse’s blinkers and move through the mire, behaving as if we enjoy mud-baths as a cleansing experience!
G… GO FOR BULL!
Set ourselves short-term sub-goals, which egg us on to long-term greater goals.
H… HOLD ON TENACIOUSLY:
Never give up, otherwise we will be stranded along the wayside. We are resolved to go all the way. Celebrating our achievements is the greatest glory. Having run our motivation-marathon, we will relax in a warm, all-consuming bath and reminisce in silence.
I… I is our EGOS:
Feed them furiously and become the best our potential allows. Iteratively, by taking one step at a time, learning from our own mistakes. We should view mistakes as stepping-stones to climb to the top of our beautiful mountain… the crest of the quest of our achievements. One step at a time gets us to the summit - sum that up! This is our optimised motivation strategy, indelibly etched in our minds.
J… JUMP TO IT:
Idling time is wasted energy. Say little and do much. The momentum of motivated energy feeds on itself.
K… KINDLE THE CANDLE:
Let us become fires of kinetic energy. In this way, the going gets good and the good gets going. Motivation, like the run-away fire, feeds on itself.
L… LOOK :
Most importantly, we should teach ourselves to see and to remember. If we are motivated, our sponge of enthusiasm soaks up with boundless energy - voraciously and tenaciously!
M… MOTIVATION MOVES MOUNTAINS MOST MAGNIFICENTLY, MAKING MANY MUNDANE MEMORIES MAGIC MOMENTS. (Especially for Mervyn)
N… NOW… NOW… NOW:
Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a dream. So move to motivation now. Seize the moment, living a splendid life, as if it may end at midnight!
O… OPEN DOORS OF ADVENTURE:
Move in and change the dark unknown to idyllic light. Organise our time optimally.
P… PRIDE CAN BETRAY US:
Rudyard Kipling in his poem “If”, advises us never to look too good… our motivation should be aimed to uplift ourselves, so as to uplift others. Our purpose in life should be to make this world a better place for all.
Q… QUICKLY:
Motivate ourselves to get going now. We should prepare our world so that it is always full and meaningful.
R… RESTRUCTURE OUR MINDS:
This is how we should optimally utilise times of quiet so as to move forward meticulously in order to realise our goals… undaunted and unhindered.
S… SEE SET-BACKS AS STEPPING-STONES:
What does not break us, makes us stronger.
T… TEA-STOPS ARE HEALTHY:
We should use these times as periods which enable us to think positively about how to channel our energies in positive directions.
U… YOU AND I GAIN BENEFITS FOR OURSELVES BY BECOMING INDEPENDENT:
This motivation-technique enables us to thrive and attain freedom.
V… VICTORY:
This is the goal of motivation in action.
W… WELL DONE:
101 %.
X… EXCELLENT:
On target.
Y… WHY MOTIVATION:
So that we can become better and more productive people.
Z… ZEST IS ENERGY FOR MOTIVATION…
Zoom forward to greatest heights.
My fervent hope is for us to reread this piece of writing from time to time and use it as a secret Motivation-key to help us to move forward to our goal of getting the most colourful picture…
LIFE-TIMES OF MOTIVATION…
FULL LIVES!
Fanny Koekemoer faks haar familie
deur Raymond Chait
22 Augustus 2001
“Ek kom, ek kom” skree sy in die telefoon se mondstuk.
Dis middernag. Skielik soos blits, is daar ‘n hemelvol liggies in die ou gebou.
Van die slaap is almal wakker geraas deur Fanny se harde stem wat dreun deur die gebou soos ‘n aardbewing.
Buurvrouens gekleed in nagrokke, en mans met lelike ou pantoffels, klop hard aan Fanny se deur.
“Wag eers! Ek moet my gehoorapparaat bykom”, skree sy terwyl sy oor die volgepakte dose spring, nes ‘n springkaan.
Al haar batterye is nou pap. Dit beteken dat haar gehoorapparaat buite werking is.
Die buurmense se woede is tasbaar, en die enigste rede wat ‘n oorlog nou kan keer, is die feit dat Fanny oor die tagtig jaar is.
Dis nie die eerste keer dat sy die hele gebou in so ‘n mate wakker geraas het nie.
Dit gebeur elke keer dat sy geselskap oor die telefoon probeer voer.
Fanny het geen ander uitweg as om haar familie te faks nie.
Fanny is al jare lank gestrem met die swak sintuig van haar gehoor, maar dit pla haar glad nie - net wanneer sy haar seun in San Francisco bel.
Hy is nou raadop, want oproepe is duur, en Fanny verstaan niks van die geselskap nie.
Die buurmense word met sulke geskreeu elke keer uit hul slaap gesteur.
Hoekom bel Fanny haar seun Harry middernag, is eintlik omdat daar ‘n tydsverskil tussen die twee vastelande is: Suid Afrika en die Vereenigde State van Amerika.
Maar diè ding gaan binne die volgende paar dae tot ‘n einde kom, want Fanny is alreeds gereed en op pad na haar seun vir die res van haar lewe.
“Ek is jammer. Ek vra weer verskoning, maar ek word so senuweeagtig wanneer ek met my seun praat, sonder om bewus te wees hiervan, begin ek so te skreeu. Ek hoor dit nie eens nie.
Fanny bekyk haarself in die spieël en begin huil: jare terug, toe sy kunstenaar geword het, was haar liggaam so uiters mooi dat sy haarself naak begin skilder het - nou skrik sy vir haar eie weerkaatsing en weier om verder moeite te maak om haarself naak te skilder.
“Hoekom tas tyd ‘n mens so lelik aan, soos ‘n siekte wat die liggaam verteer?” vra sy.
Sy loop nou gebukkend. Sy let op, ook , dat haar ore en neus lelik begin vergroot het. Die natuur kry sy versadiging en plesier om die mens so afskuwelik te verander, met die verloop van die jare.
Sy glimlag: “Ek gaan dit mos probeer keer met die gebruik van al hoe meer grimering”.
Sy lag nou vir haarself, terwyl sy ‘n traan wegpink met ‘n sneesdoekie: “My Skepper wil nie hê dat ek myself bejammer nie. Hy wil gedurig ‘n glimlag sien op my gesig, kom wat wil.”
Sy verstel haar vals tande, en glimlag weer, maar dié keer glimlag sy breed…
Oor ‘n dag of so, omhels sy haar seun.
“Jaaaaaaa… ” sing sy dit uit, soos ‘n merrie wat runnik en verbeel haar hy staan alreeds voor haar. Ek gaan die mense in sy buurt leer hoe om die lewe weer ten volle te kan geniet.”
Sy lig haar lang, swart rok effens op en begin dans. Haar lang tone vergesel haar van uit die venstertjies van haar sandale.
Uitasem kom sy dan tot stilstand…
Sy plons sommer in ‘n stoel neer, en sy dink aan die lys dingetjies wat sy nog moet afhandel en agter die rug kry - haar belasting moet ten volle betaal word voordat sy toegelaat sal word om die land permanent te verlaat, sy moet ook reëlings tref om haar bankrekening te sluit, en haar paar oorskiet meubels verkoop te kry…
Fanny het amper niks geslaap nie. Sy ontklee en bekyk haarself in die spieël, en dan spring sy sommer in haar bad.
Die oplossing van al haar probleme werk baie goed in haar guns: voordat sy daarvan bewus is, is haar klere en dose volgepak met haar kunswerke, en sy is op pad per taxi lughawe toe.
Gedurende haar laaste ure in Suid Afrika, flits ‘n paar onlangse hoogtepunte haar gedagtes deur: ‘n uitstappie met ‘n nuwe vriend na ‘n koffiekroeg: op pad het sy ‘n bekende dame ontmoet met haar babatjie in haar arms. Die babatjie het begin huil toe sy in Fanny se gesig vaskyk.
Kort daarna, het ‘n groep kinders wyd verby haar geloop, en hardop geterg: “Hekse loop in die buurt rond. Ons het netnou nog een gesien.”
Fanny het pikswart lang hare wat oor haar skouers val, en dit lyk altyd soos rotte se sterte.
‘n Ander ervaring, was ‘n onlangse besoek die stad in, met haar swart Volla: sy het vir die self-aangestelde parkeerbeampte geskreeu toe hy na haar motor aangestap kom. Hy het mos net verdwyn soos konfetti in die wind.
Sy het nou definitief besef dat sy beheer het oor mense, want hulle is so bang vir haar beplooide gesig.
By die lughawe, keer die sekuriteidsbeamptes haar toe sy verby die hek met die groen lig wou loop, terwyl sy haar vliegtuigkaartjie toon.
Haar bagasie en die kartonne met haar kunswerke word oopgemaak:
“En wat gaan hier aan, Ouma?”
“Dis mos my skilderye”, antwoord sy kort en bondig.
“Maar wat maak Ouma dan met naak fotos?”
“Dis ek!” antwoord sy onskuldig.
Nie een van die beamptes kan verstaan presies wat aangaan nie.
Almal staar en staan verstom…
Niks verder word bespreek nie.
Fanny klim die trappe op en neem haar sitplek in die vliegtuig in.
Veiligheidsmaatreëls word beduie en Fanny skrik so dat sy moet knyp!
Sy gil uit: “Dit lyk asof hulle gereed maak vir ‘n ongeluk. As ons in die see beland, kan ek glad nie swem nie.”
Vrye alkohol drankies word bedien.
Fanny spring in. Sy kap die een na die ander om alle lelike gedagtes uit haar kop te kry en ook om haar vrees te onderdruk.
Die enjins veroorsaak dat die vliegtuig begin bewe en dan begin dit te beweeg.
Na ‘n hel se lawaai, styg dit op…
Fanny voel snaaks: “Ek verloor my asem. Ek voel naar. Ek word al hoe meer benoud.”
Fanny probeer die venster oopmaak en let op dat daar geen handvatsel is nie.
Die lugwaardin spring in: “Oumatjie, daar’s lugreëling. Maak intussen die knope van jou rok bo oop, en maak die veiligheidsgordel vas, en kalmeer jouself asseblief ter wille van die ander passasiers.
Fanny kan nie meer stilsit nie en dring aan dat sy wil terug lughawe toe.
Die passasiers rondom haar probeer haar ook tot bedaring bring.
Die lugwaardin oorweeg dit om Oumatjie ‘n kalmerende inspuiting te gee!
Fanny begin uitskree dat sy dit nooit sal regkry om vir ure lank so ongemaklik te kan sit nie, veral omdat die man langs haar nou sy ou skoene uitgetrek het. Die reuk van sy voete is besig om haar heel duiselig te laat voel.
Haar vals tande het intussen uitgeval en op dié man se skoot beland.
Nou voel Fanny baie onrustig en senuweeagtig. Sy vra vir dié man of sy verby hom mag loop, sodat sy toilet toe kan gaan.
Tekens oral toon aan:
“ROOK VERBODE”
Fanny sluit die toilet deur en steek ‘n sigaret aan.
Die rook alarms begin te kere gaan om die lugwaardin te waarsku dat iemand in die toilet besig is om onwettig te rook. Sy ontbied die hulp van die vlieëniers. Hulle forseer die deur oop.
Fanny spring van die toilet af op.
“Meneer, wat jy nou doen is heeltemal onbeskof. Hoe durf jy aan die deur peuter terwyl ‘n dame die toilet beset.”
“Toilet beset en wil rook is ontoelaatbaar,” antwoord die vlieënier.
Fanny gaan nou te kere: “Ek het dit nooit in my lewe teëgekom dat ‘n man so optree nie. Meneer, ek sal dit nooit oorweeg om weer in my lewe te vlieg nie.
Fanny begin huil, en sy bewe van woede.
Van al die drank, word sy dan vaak en vir ure lank, bly sy rustig slaap.
Die lugwaardin maak haar wakker nadat die vliegtuig se deur oopgemaak is met die aankoms by San Francisco lughawe.
Fanny Koekemoer voel skielik dat haar lewe ‘n nuwe begin gekry het.
“Ek het gekom… Ek het gekom”, skree sy hardop, toe sy in Harry se arms inloop.
“Ma, mense wag vir die uitstalling van al jou kunswerke. Hier is ‘n groot aanvraag vir Ma se naak skilderye, en die Dollars sal maklik in jou skoot inrol. Dan kan jy saam met my elke naweek oor Golden Gate fiets ry, en ons sal dan ‘n lekker middagete in Sausalito geniet.”
“Ja”, antwoord Fanny, “ek het nuwe batterye vir my gehoorapparaat saamgebring. Ek moet hulle nog insit.”
Sy soen hom op altwee wange.
Sy hoef nooit weer haar familie te faks nie. Sy is mos nou vir ewig saam met hulle… veral met Harry, haar gunstelling seun.
Spectacular Sunset at Sea Point
By Raymond Chait
23 April 2002
At the touch of a button, I delight in bringing Beach Road traffic to a halt.
I then stride slowly and proudly across the Zebra Crossing near Winchester Mansions Hotel, whilst leering lingeringly at the cars’ stressed-out occupants.
They say “red sky by night, shepherd’s delight… red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.”
Not one of these cars’ angst-filled occupants saw the spectacular sunset at Sea-Point today.
It was the best sunset at Sea Point in the 50 consecutive ones God has graced me to have recently witnessed. That is why I want to share this particular superbly, splendidly-spectacular sunset at Sea Point with YOU:
Sit back, take a deep breath and relax, then sail away on my humble choice of words, as I string them together to give You a heavenly-idyllic experience:
The wind is a crisp exhilarating tingling tickle on Your soft skin. You feel it romantically nestle on Your cheeks as it pats past Your ears
The birds’ symphony is at its gloriously-heavenly zenith – a crescendo of congruent, calm chords cascading cumulatively in a colourful cocoon around You
.
The silver-white, soft, curdling, crunching crests follow the billowing swells: breakers augmenting the orchestra.
Distant kettle-drum breakers crash in perfect pitch. They then echo, severing the silent interludes of the birds’ song
.
The sea’s subtle colour-nuances blend: deep blues, greens, iron-greys… movements perfectly paced with nature’s wondrous symphony.
The sky is a pastel paintwork of red, orange, gold, yellow; and the sun a full, round, radiant red.
Behind You is an animated Lion’s Head, and Table Mountain is graced with a glorious halo - a bright rainbow, igniting these most-magnificent of Nature’s Masterpieces.
Few Cumulus Clouds are dauntingly grey-black. Tomorrow’s sky in the far west is a magic blue.
As the minutes slide away ineluctably, this subtle magic changes: punctuated moment for moment.
The new waxing moon cruises into the Eastern Sky, a solitary silent silhouette, draped by a charismatic shroud of silver-grey: she sails smoothly, softly. She unveils herself shyly, with her virginal innocence and candour, moment by moment.
The sun in the west sneaks away behind the horizon in the far sea’s distance, and the sky’s colours now meld magically into more pronounced and punctuated perfections of red, orange, yellow: the sun has said goodnight. He has already gone to sleep.
The birds’ song is suddenly softer now, because the sirens and the cars’ devil-drones have scared them away all-too-soon, clipping short this momentary, fleeting Revelation of God’s Inordinate Beauty.
We are insulting invaders of this unhurried, Pure Earth!
We’ve chased away this delicious splendour forever!
The traffic lights have turned green now, and these pressured people push away to the plastic comfort of their technologically-dictated lives.
Their sunsets are cigarette smoke and ashes.
I am pleasantly-tired: overwhelmed by this Awesome Omnipresence of God’s Provident Beauty.
It is my greatest pleasure to have shared it with You!
“Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning…
Red sky by night, shepherd’s delight…”
We’ll see…
3 Ladies for Tea
by Raymond Chait
16 March 2002
When men get together, they drink beer, they smoke, they talk sport, and then they end up fishing quietly… or they may even go out hunting together…
When women grow gregarious, they invariably chat, chat and chat… time’s ineluctability of no consequence to them in these aroused states, makes inscrutability our focal-point…
On Saturday, 3 eager ladies found a conversation-conducive niche, and collapsed into cool, comfortable couches, and… 1… 2… 3… zoomed off… each obviously lubricated her respective vocal chords beforehand, because they were bubbling, boiling, baking, baste-ing, broiling, burning… to go…
I risk admonishment and castigation and being tagged the prototype male chauvinistic pig, but fact remains fact, and Truth remains stranger than fiction…
Topic 1: Australia… the excitement of their impending trip together is electrically- palpable; their simultaneous energy-surges exuberantly animates the atmosphere: what footwear is the most comfortable, so the feet don’t swell or smell, medications, ointments and injections that need to be popped, rubbed or pricked before, during, and after the flight, what to pack into their suitcases for maybe, or just-in-case; and special shoes for much walking, in humble deference to their fitness-dreams.
Topic 2: The Perfect Potato Salad: the ideal potato salad grips the next half hour: ingredients juggle from olive oil to eggs. A heated debate ensues regarding the perfect temperature at which the cooked potatoes should be divested of their skins, and the optimum consistency of the final mixture, so as to achieve a perfect touch.
Topic 3: Illnesses: Scleroderma: What the heck is that?
Now we slip effortlessly into the role of charlatan-quacks. Scleroderma is a skin-condition which thickens the blood, and uncontrolled, can be very fatal.
The topic of our certain mortality quickly reaches a dead-end.
We then press on effortlessly with the subject of diets, of course, meaning fat-free, cholesterol-free, calories-free, including even the extreme precautionary measure of a Brita water-filter!
I now sit wondering if, besides their face-packs, these 3 ladies ever wear designer masks, so as to filter the air: this is most certainly the age of neuroses de luxe and phobias par excellance!
I can NOT resist, nor hold back, a blast of a hearty giggle, when I relive one lady speaking of her husband’s tooth-implant failures setting him back R100 000: it seems that for these crème-de-la-crème affluents, money is a drop in their ocean of prosperity.
Topic 4: Their Wealth: when they were just young girls, they conceded that jewellery was for older women. Now that they ARE older women, jewellery is for them!
They agreed that the best jewellery designer is Sheldon: reliable, dependable, and so-imaginatively-creative when he takes them out, each in turn, for tea!
They must have a ring for every finger… they admit that the Australian waiters know the South African women, all decked up like the proverbial, over-done Xmas Tree!
Topic 5: The Sipping: Rooibos Tea arrives. Oh, why is the water not boiling?…
And the 3 ladies summon Earl Grey in person, to lodge their complaints. They give a firm command for the waiter to fulfil their directive “on the double”!
“Please” and “Thank You” went out of fashion long ago for them!
The poor waiter breaks out into a sweat, trying to satisfy their very-desperate needs.
2 of the ladies share a scone, and keep coaxing the third “just to taste”, “just to taste”, “just to taste”.
After this nagging reaches an extreme, the wavering non-conformer finally relents reluctantly, and she daintily pops a crumb.
Topic 6: Boyfriends and the exchanging of telephone numbers: Sheldon has to meet Shelley… their personalities will gel, and they will be so happy together: wouldn’t it be nice to come back from Australia and walk into a wedding.
One lady’s cell-phone rings a nervously-metronomic classical noise. When she answers, with the typically-nasal “howzit”, all conversation comes to an abrupt halt…
Inscrutably, the 3 ladies look at me, as I can no longer stifle my fun.
They notice my floundering attempts, again, to read my short novel.
They all agree that they have no time for books: one wonders why!
The Boeing flew over at Twelve pronto, and each of these ladies had to run off to their respective lunch appointments.
Silence fell like a cosy blanket.
I finished my short novel - eventually - now that there was relative quiet, then captured on paper, for perpetuity, a rough draft of my special time with these special ladies.
(I must concede, also, the error of generalization!)
Especially for You, S H E P
by Raymond Chait
(circa 1975)
A man’s dog is an extension of himself
He projects into the mannerisms of his dog
Those attributes that he would have were he a dog
Communication is not verbal, but by vibes
And these, too, become part of the dog
And so, S H E P … the consolation for my being angry
An ever-present agility and lust for all that is good …
A willingness to obey that radiates from the remotest
Rivers in S H E P’s eyes …
An expression so happy that exudes from S H E P
Always happy, alert and nimble …
Such a temperate friend I’ll never have
I will surely fade if You do
Always there: never too busy to hear my sorrows
And never getting enough of his share of my happiness …
Who else in the world would spend a whole day waiting just for me ?
I know only You could do that …
Who else would respond to my call every time without fail ?
For this reason, S H E P, I feel so indebted to You …
What I do for You is comparable
To the smallest pebble at the bottom of a pond
For this reason, S H E P,
I write these words with my tears
For only Y O U !
A Moment Closer to God
by Raymond Chait
21 November 2002
A ll our efforts should be directed
M ainly to bringing happiness and peace
O nly having pure thoughts
M oving towards a goal of always pleasing Our Maker
E very day we should wake to
N otice His beauty all around Us
T aking time to be grateful for each moment that God graces us to partake of His
beautiful World
C uddle close to the Source of His Power:
L ive to Help Others
O ffer, above all, Your TIME
S o as to make the isolated ones feel less lonely
E ach of these Noble Deeds
R eveals to us more of God’s Glory
T ake TIME to be really Thankful
O ver and over again, without end
G et in touch with OUR MAKER
O nly Live For HIM…
D o everything for HIS GREATER GLORY
Lift
by Raymond Chait
(undated: early 1970’s)
Scissors open … close
Some enter … leave
Shut … up
1 … 2 … 3 …
Open … out … in …
Shut … down …
2 … 1 … G …
Numbered dots linked by wires hidden -
Confined by heaven and earth
Few planets in between
Magnificently-charged wire
Directs its victim
Whose day ends
With the approach of night.
Star in a New South Africa
By Raymond Chait
19 March 1996
One lonely heart beats in the middle of an endless, damp, cold night…
Peaceful sleep eludes my foetal, snuggling form - a disintegrating cardboard futon, my refuge.
An inexplicable surrender displaces my hurt, anger and feelings of worthlessness. Possessing nothing, frees me from this frenetic-paced world of selfish-materialism.
The birds sail the crisp morning breeze. A hint of the rising sun warms me to consciousness. The sensitivity of being, bossoms. My secret starts unfolding…
My wrinkled granny-fingers reach out to touch you. My name is Star. What’s yours?
The grass is wet and this place is haunted, but please listen to me for just one moment…
The cardboard sticks to my clothes. The muddy-puddle and the sand-pebbles scratch through to my skin, more so than the razor that Mpho gave to me…
I must tell you about Mpho… most people ignore me and treat me with contempt: he’s the only person in the whole world who sports a smile, and he has been blessed with the softest, kindest eyes… every time he passes this way, he gives me some bread and sometimes even a coin!
Yesterday, he left me with a book: Wilbur Smith’s “Eagle in the Sky”…
The bread feeds my body…
The coin may some day save my soul… and
The grace of reading may one day save my life…
And I’m proud to look you in the eyes, because at last, I’ve shaved… the first time in months… a new freshness overwhelms me after bathing in the cascading, cool waters, and with that, a second lease on life…
How long will this fantastic equanimity last?
I suppose that if I can snap one idyllic moment of happiness from life’s tree, I should gratefully nurture it like a seed and then stand back, and from a distance, watch it blossom bountifully…
Nature always intrigues me. It allows me to dreamily transcend into a time-capsule, thus enabling me to experience heavenly eternity…
Enter the time-warp…
These goats and I and no-one else. Won’t you, for just one moment, stop by and listen to their innocent beckoning?
Look at the transparent TRUTH in their distant unfocus.
Is it not wondrous?
We are safely-protected by the undulating hills, which unfold their magic mysticism magnificently.
I am just a little boy, yet I have an intuitive knowledge that some of us exude an inexplicable gift of synchronicity with nature and animals. This alienates us from other people. Perhaps it makes us seem eccentric!
I never want to grow up! I want to clasp onto this fleeting treasure-trove of my boyhood days…
The teacher pinches my ear. She makes me cognisant of the present - the mundane discipline of reading, writing and arithmetic. The confines of these walls triggers an urge to escape, if only in imagination…
When she turns her back, I steal away again into this amazing time-capsule, and in one fell swoop, I return to the hills and to the soft whispering of eternity…
A nightmare shakes me awake. The pain grips me again.
The knife that is going to cut off the edge of my manhood, lurks closer. Torturous days tear away my childhood mask and a shaved man comes forth… there’s a now-broken voice, plaintively-resigned, reiterating: “Why me?”
The city beckons me away from the pains of life: maybe money, music and women will bring to me the peace I so-desperately crave.
I now ride the “blue train” - it takes me backwards and forwards and allows me to remember and then to dream…
It transports me to a world where I can cope by escaping.
NO! NO! NO!
I must grope onto the vestiges of my reality…
I want to read Wilbur Smith when the sun rises just now…
I’ll read until the sun sets…
You probably know my secret by now!
I am forever grateful to Mpho, who saved my life!
I live to be an author, so that I can write about the charms of Africa, where there is never a need to escape, because the reality is so beautiful!
If you pass this way at the close of day, you will perhaps meet me again, but this time I will be smiling into the sunset…
Then I’ll creep into the bushes and spread out my carton futon and put my head down to rest…
And then I’ll awaken with an exuberant excitement!
I am now at one with eternity and the night is oh, so beautiful… so truly beautiful…
“B.B.”
by Raymond Chait
9 June 1996
The sun thaws this gaunt apparition sitting on the bench…
Ripples in the lake cast my moving shadow.
Oh! How frightening a caricature it is!
Yesterday’s news is the wrapper of this Best Blend tobacco.
Gently, I stop more of this stuff into the long newspaper tunnel - time eludes me.
Most people circling Rhodes’ Park either ignore me or are so enamoured with their own importance, that they don’t see me.
The day grows cuddlier and cosier, and the solar warmth stirs my sole, tired soul.
The pulsing rhythms of life make me acutely-aware of the birds’ symphony and the ducks’ quack-song and their pecking-order punctiliousness.
The wind rustling through the trees tickles my ears, and whispers its secrets of eternity…
And in the distance , I notice 3 forms approaching - bubbling with conversation and bursting with enthusiasm.
Before they pass me, they actually recognise me as a person - they give me an identity. They pause and greet me… is this really True?
I can hardly believe my luck - I get offered a cigarette - is this a gift from the gods?
I’ll never forget this moment, which is incurably and indelibly etched in my mind until my final heart-beat… someone spoke to me on this lonely, lost Sunday!
Somebody actually stopped and noticed me!
This gives me reason to want to live again!
I inhale every puff, successfully transcending time - backwards and forwards and I pluck the memories I choose to relive.
I blow them back to reality with the smoke-rings, which dissipate in the distance.
Memory is the priceless gift I carry around with me wherever I go.
But only at idyllic moments like this, can I flick from it a multiplicity of beautiful and colourful flashes of my life.
It’s as if it now ceases being stifled, and with vitality, blossoms back my long-lost happiness!
THE ALPHABET OF MOTIVATION
by Raymond Chait
30 August 1992
Abraham Maslow’s theory on Motivation states that human needs must be satisfied.
Frederick Herzberg’s theory on Motivation argues that manipulating the elements that cause dissatisfaction (Hygiene Factors) cannot significantly increase satisfaction, although it may decrease dissatisfaction. Only by increasing the Motivators, may satisfaction be increased.
James March and Herbert Simon offer a dynamic model of behaviour with satisfaction being viewed as a balance between input from Expected Value of reward and levels of aspiration.
Lyman Porter and Edward Lawler show a more direct relationship between performance and satisfaction, with the prediction that performance leads to satisfaction.
Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet, explains life’s learning processes as those which elevate us beyond the threshold of our existing knowledge.
Vincent van Gogh awakens in us a desire to savour and enjoy a multiplicity of experiences: “To know life is to love many things.”
Friend Rowan M.S. advises us that if you can do something, leave it and try something else.
Let us now be daring and share an eclectic view, which we will integrate from empirical experiences only…
Motivation springs from an aroused desire to improve and move forward along life’s compulsory course.
We cannot elect to remain static…
We stand to lose our competitive edge if we are not constantly enthused to improve on our existing framework of knowledge.
The penalty is that we will fall behind and remain like Mr. Hermit, on our lonesome!
There are 5 groups of people: those who wait, those who wander, those who wonder, those who watch, and those who make things happen. Which group do we want to slot into?
Life is tough.
We are forced to take on the whole journey, so we will make the most of it, absorbing all the scenery along the way…
The A to Z of Motivation:
A…. ACTIVATE DORMANT POTENTIAL:
Assess our strengths, and turn our weaknesses into opportunities, by working on them.
B… BALANCE OUR MINDS, BODIES AND SOULS:
Move these three inextricably-linked components harmoniously and simultaneously forward. Plug any leaks that drain energy, so that we blend these three in order to excel. We will feel lively and almost ethereal, as we find ourselves soaring to greater heights.
C… CREATE CHALLENGES:
We must cultivate curiosity, channeling all our energies in a positive direction. How can we then ever be bored or passive, if activity sparks our guiding light?
D… DO:
Doing is the thing. Never procrastinate. There is only NOW. Yesterday is a memory and tomorrow is a dream away. Each moment lost, is lost forever. Let us begin our work now, and view it as a learning exercise. Physical work is an exercise to improve the body. Studying is exercise for the mind. We are always in need of spiritual upliftment too.
E… EVALUATE OUR PRIORITIES:
Extra effort is essential to programme each day…
Organise the minute to organise the hour to organise the day to organise our lives. Planning ahead is healthy, as it gives us previews, so that we can behave proactively and avert the potholes along life’s road.
F… FUSSING AND FAFFING ARE OUT…
Get on with it! A busy person gets things done. Put on a horse’s blinkers and move through the mire, behaving as if we enjoy mud-baths as a cleansing experience!
G… GO FOR BULL!
Set ourselves short-term sub-goals, which egg us on to long-term greater goals.
H… HOLD ON TENACIOUSLY:
Never give up, otherwise we will be stranded along the wayside. We are resolved to go all the way. Celebrating our achievements is the greatest glory. Having run our motivation-marathon, we will relax in a warm, all-consuming bath and reminisce in silence.
I… I is our EGOS:
Feed them furiously and become the best our potential allows. Iteratively, by taking one step at a time, learning from our own mistakes. We should view mistakes as stepping-stones to climb to the top of our beautiful mountain… the crest of the quest of our achievements. One step at a time gets us to the summit - sum that up! This is our optimised motivation strategy, indelibly etched in our minds.
J… JUMP TO IT:
Idling time is wasted energy. Say little and do much. The momentum of motivated energy feeds on itself.
K… KINDLE THE CANDLE:
Let us become fires of kinetic energy. In this way, the going gets good and the good gets going. Motivation, like the run-away fire, feeds on itself.
L… LOOK :
Most importantly, we should teach ourselves to see and to remember. If we are motivated, our sponge of enthusiasm soaks up with boundless energy - voraciously and tenaciously!
M… MOTIVATION MOVES MOUNTAINS MOST MAGNIFICENTLY, MAKING MANY MUNDANE MEMORIES MAGIC MOMENTS. (Especially for Mervyn)
N… NOW… NOW… NOW:
Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a dream. So move to motivation now. Seize the moment, living a splendid life, as if it may end at midnight!
O… OPEN DOORS OF ADVENTURE:
Move in and change the dark unknown to idyllic light. Organise our time optimally.
P… PRIDE CAN BETRAY US:
Rudyard Kipling in his poem “If”, advises us never to look too good… our motivation should be aimed to uplift ourselves, so as to uplift others. Our purpose in life should be to make this world a better place for all.
Q… QUICKLY:
Motivate ourselves to get going now. We should prepare our world so that it is always full and meaningful.
R… RESTRUCTURE OUR MINDS:
This is how we should optimally utilise times of quiet so as to move forward meticulously in order to realise our goals… undaunted and unhindered.
S… SEE SET-BACKS AS STEPPING-STONES:
What does not break us, makes us stronger.
T… TEA-STOPS ARE HEALTHY:
We should use these times as periods which enable us to think positively about how to channel our energies in positive directions.
U… YOU AND I GAIN BENEFITS FOR OURSELVES BY BECOMING INDEPENDENT:
This motivation-technique enables us to thrive and attain freedom.
V… VICTORY:
This is the goal of motivation in action.
W… WELL DONE:
101 %.
X… EXCELLENT:
On target.
Y… WHY MOTIVATION:
So that we can become better and more productive people.
Z… ZEST IS ENERGY FOR MOTIVATION…
Zoom forward to greatest heights.
My fervent hope is for us to reread this piece of writing from time to time and use it as a secret Motivation-key to help us to move forward to our goal of getting the most colourful picture…
LIFE-TIMES OF MOTIVATION…
FULL LIVES!
Fanny Koekemoer faks haar familie
deur Raymond Chait
22 Augustus 2001
“Ek kom, ek kom” skree sy in die telefoon se mondstuk.
Dis middernag. Skielik soos blits, is daar ‘n hemelvol liggies in die ou gebou.
Van die slaap is almal wakker geraas deur Fanny se harde stem wat dreun deur die gebou soos ‘n aardbewing.
Buurvrouens gekleed in nagrokke, en mans met lelike ou pantoffels, klop hard aan Fanny se deur.
“Wag eers! Ek moet my gehoorapparaat bykom”, skree sy terwyl sy oor die volgepakte dose spring, nes ‘n springkaan.
Al haar batterye is nou pap. Dit beteken dat haar gehoorapparaat buite werking is.
Die buurmense se woede is tasbaar, en die enigste rede wat ‘n oorlog nou kan keer, is die feit dat Fanny oor die tagtig jaar is.
Dis nie die eerste keer dat sy die hele gebou in so ‘n mate wakker geraas het nie.
Dit gebeur elke keer dat sy geselskap oor die telefoon probeer voer.
Fanny het geen ander uitweg as om haar familie te faks nie.
Fanny is al jare lank gestrem met die swak sintuig van haar gehoor, maar dit pla haar glad nie - net wanneer sy haar seun in San Francisco bel.
Hy is nou raadop, want oproepe is duur, en Fanny verstaan niks van die geselskap nie.
Die buurmense word met sulke geskreeu elke keer uit hul slaap gesteur.
Hoekom bel Fanny haar seun Harry middernag, is eintlik omdat daar ‘n tydsverskil tussen die twee vastelande is: Suid Afrika en die Vereenigde State van Amerika.
Maar diè ding gaan binne die volgende paar dae tot ‘n einde kom, want Fanny is alreeds gereed en op pad na haar seun vir die res van haar lewe.
“Ek is jammer. Ek vra weer verskoning, maar ek word so senuweeagtig wanneer ek met my seun praat, sonder om bewus te wees hiervan, begin ek so te skreeu. Ek hoor dit nie eens nie.
Fanny bekyk haarself in die spieël en begin huil: jare terug, toe sy kunstenaar geword het, was haar liggaam so uiters mooi dat sy haarself naak begin skilder het - nou skrik sy vir haar eie weerkaatsing en weier om verder moeite te maak om haarself naak te skilder.
“Hoekom tas tyd ‘n mens so lelik aan, soos ‘n siekte wat die liggaam verteer?” vra sy.
Sy loop nou gebukkend. Sy let op, ook , dat haar ore en neus lelik begin vergroot het. Die natuur kry sy versadiging en plesier om die mens so afskuwelik te verander, met die verloop van die jare.
Sy glimlag: “Ek gaan dit mos probeer keer met die gebruik van al hoe meer grimering”.
Sy lag nou vir haarself, terwyl sy ‘n traan wegpink met ‘n sneesdoekie: “My Skepper wil nie hê dat ek myself bejammer nie. Hy wil gedurig ‘n glimlag sien op my gesig, kom wat wil.”
Sy verstel haar vals tande, en glimlag weer, maar dié keer glimlag sy breed…
Oor ‘n dag of so, omhels sy haar seun.
“Jaaaaaaa… ” sing sy dit uit, soos ‘n merrie wat runnik en verbeel haar hy staan alreeds voor haar. Ek gaan die mense in sy buurt leer hoe om die lewe weer ten volle te kan geniet.”
Sy lig haar lang, swart rok effens op en begin dans. Haar lang tone vergesel haar van uit die venstertjies van haar sandale.
Uitasem kom sy dan tot stilstand…
Sy plons sommer in ‘n stoel neer, en sy dink aan die lys dingetjies wat sy nog moet afhandel en agter die rug kry - haar belasting moet ten volle betaal word voordat sy toegelaat sal word om die land permanent te verlaat, sy moet ook reëlings tref om haar bankrekening te sluit, en haar paar oorskiet meubels verkoop te kry…
Fanny het amper niks geslaap nie. Sy ontklee en bekyk haarself in die spieël, en dan spring sy sommer in haar bad.
Die oplossing van al haar probleme werk baie goed in haar guns: voordat sy daarvan bewus is, is haar klere en dose volgepak met haar kunswerke, en sy is op pad per taxi lughawe toe.
Gedurende haar laaste ure in Suid Afrika, flits ‘n paar onlangse hoogtepunte haar gedagtes deur: ‘n uitstappie met ‘n nuwe vriend na ‘n koffiekroeg: op pad het sy ‘n bekende dame ontmoet met haar babatjie in haar arms. Die babatjie het begin huil toe sy in Fanny se gesig vaskyk.
Kort daarna, het ‘n groep kinders wyd verby haar geloop, en hardop geterg: “Hekse loop in die buurt rond. Ons het netnou nog een gesien.”
Fanny het pikswart lang hare wat oor haar skouers val, en dit lyk altyd soos rotte se sterte.
‘n Ander ervaring, was ‘n onlangse besoek die stad in, met haar swart Volla: sy het vir die self-aangestelde parkeerbeampte geskreeu toe hy na haar motor aangestap kom. Hy het mos net verdwyn soos konfetti in die wind.
Sy het nou definitief besef dat sy beheer het oor mense, want hulle is so bang vir haar beplooide gesig.
By die lughawe, keer die sekuriteidsbeamptes haar toe sy verby die hek met die groen lig wou loop, terwyl sy haar vliegtuigkaartjie toon.
Haar bagasie en die kartonne met haar kunswerke word oopgemaak:
“En wat gaan hier aan, Ouma?”
“Dis mos my skilderye”, antwoord sy kort en bondig.
“Maar wat maak Ouma dan met naak fotos?”
“Dis ek!” antwoord sy onskuldig.
Nie een van die beamptes kan verstaan presies wat aangaan nie.
Almal staar en staan verstom…
Niks verder word bespreek nie.
Fanny klim die trappe op en neem haar sitplek in die vliegtuig in.
Veiligheidsmaatreëls word beduie en Fanny skrik so dat sy moet knyp!
Sy gil uit: “Dit lyk asof hulle gereed maak vir ‘n ongeluk. As ons in die see beland, kan ek glad nie swem nie.”
Vrye alkohol drankies word bedien.
Fanny spring in. Sy kap die een na die ander om alle lelike gedagtes uit haar kop te kry en ook om haar vrees te onderdruk.
Die enjins veroorsaak dat die vliegtuig begin bewe en dan begin dit te beweeg.
Na ‘n hel se lawaai, styg dit op…
Fanny voel snaaks: “Ek verloor my asem. Ek voel naar. Ek word al hoe meer benoud.”
Fanny probeer die venster oopmaak en let op dat daar geen handvatsel is nie.
Die lugwaardin spring in: “Oumatjie, daar’s lugreëling. Maak intussen die knope van jou rok bo oop, en maak die veiligheidsgordel vas, en kalmeer jouself asseblief ter wille van die ander passasiers.
Fanny kan nie meer stilsit nie en dring aan dat sy wil terug lughawe toe.
Die passasiers rondom haar probeer haar ook tot bedaring bring.
Die lugwaardin oorweeg dit om Oumatjie ‘n kalmerende inspuiting te gee!
Fanny begin uitskree dat sy dit nooit sal regkry om vir ure lank so ongemaklik te kan sit nie, veral omdat die man langs haar nou sy ou skoene uitgetrek het. Die reuk van sy voete is besig om haar heel duiselig te laat voel.
Haar vals tande het intussen uitgeval en op dié man se skoot beland.
Nou voel Fanny baie onrustig en senuweeagtig. Sy vra vir dié man of sy verby hom mag loop, sodat sy toilet toe kan gaan.
Tekens oral toon aan:
“ROOK VERBODE”
Fanny sluit die toilet deur en steek ‘n sigaret aan.
Die rook alarms begin te kere gaan om die lugwaardin te waarsku dat iemand in die toilet besig is om onwettig te rook. Sy ontbied die hulp van die vlieëniers. Hulle forseer die deur oop.
Fanny spring van die toilet af op.
“Meneer, wat jy nou doen is heeltemal onbeskof. Hoe durf jy aan die deur peuter terwyl ‘n dame die toilet beset.”
“Toilet beset en wil rook is ontoelaatbaar,” antwoord die vlieënier.
Fanny gaan nou te kere: “Ek het dit nooit in my lewe teëgekom dat ‘n man so optree nie. Meneer, ek sal dit nooit oorweeg om weer in my lewe te vlieg nie.
Fanny begin huil, en sy bewe van woede.
Van al die drank, word sy dan vaak en vir ure lank, bly sy rustig slaap.
Die lugwaardin maak haar wakker nadat die vliegtuig se deur oopgemaak is met die aankoms by San Francisco lughawe.
Fanny Koekemoer voel skielik dat haar lewe ‘n nuwe begin gekry het.
“Ek het gekom… Ek het gekom”, skree sy hardop, toe sy in Harry se arms inloop.
“Ma, mense wag vir die uitstalling van al jou kunswerke. Hier is ‘n groot aanvraag vir Ma se naak skilderye, en die Dollars sal maklik in jou skoot inrol. Dan kan jy saam met my elke naweek oor Golden Gate fiets ry, en ons sal dan ‘n lekker middagete in Sausalito geniet.”
“Ja”, antwoord Fanny, “ek het nuwe batterye vir my gehoorapparaat saamgebring. Ek moet hulle nog insit.”
Sy soen hom op altwee wange.
Sy hoef nooit weer haar familie te faks nie. Sy is mos nou vir ewig saam met hulle… veral met Harry, haar gunstelling seun.
Spectacular Sunset at Sea Point
By Raymond Chait
23 April 2002
At the touch of a button, I delight in bringing Beach Road traffic to a halt.
I then stride slowly and proudly across the Zebra Crossing near Winchester Mansions Hotel, whilst leering lingeringly at the cars’ stressed-out occupants.
They say “red sky by night, shepherd’s delight… red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.”
Not one of these cars’ angst-filled occupants saw the spectacular sunset at Sea-Point today.
It was the best sunset at Sea Point in the 50 consecutive ones God has graced me to have recently witnessed. That is why I want to share this particular superbly, splendidly-spectacular sunset at Sea Point with YOU:
Sit back, take a deep breath and relax, then sail away on my humble choice of words, as I string them together to give You a heavenly-idyllic experience:
The wind is a crisp exhilarating tingling tickle on Your soft skin. You feel it romantically nestle on Your cheeks as it pats past Your ears
The birds’ symphony is at its gloriously-heavenly zenith – a crescendo of congruent, calm chords cascading cumulatively in a colourful cocoon around You
.
The silver-white, soft, curdling, crunching crests follow the billowing swells: breakers augmenting the orchestra.
Distant kettle-drum breakers crash in perfect pitch. They then echo, severing the silent interludes of the birds’ song
.
The sea’s subtle colour-nuances blend: deep blues, greens, iron-greys… movements perfectly paced with nature’s wondrous symphony.
The sky is a pastel paintwork of red, orange, gold, yellow; and the sun a full, round, radiant red.
Behind You is an animated Lion’s Head, and Table Mountain is graced with a glorious halo - a bright rainbow, igniting these most-magnificent of Nature’s Masterpieces.
Few Cumulus Clouds are dauntingly grey-black. Tomorrow’s sky in the far west is a magic blue.
As the minutes slide away ineluctably, this subtle magic changes: punctuated moment for moment.
The new waxing moon cruises into the Eastern Sky, a solitary silent silhouette, draped by a charismatic shroud of silver-grey: she sails smoothly, softly. She unveils herself shyly, with her virginal innocence and candour, moment by moment.
The sun in the west sneaks away behind the horizon in the far sea’s distance, and the sky’s colours now meld magically into more pronounced and punctuated perfections of red, orange, yellow: the sun has said goodnight. He has already gone to sleep.
The birds’ song is suddenly softer now, because the sirens and the cars’ devil-drones have scared them away all-too-soon, clipping short this momentary, fleeting Revelation of God’s Inordinate Beauty.
We are insulting invaders of this unhurried, Pure Earth!
We’ve chased away this delicious splendour forever!
The traffic lights have turned green now, and these pressured people push away to the plastic comfort of their technologically-dictated lives.
Their sunsets are cigarette smoke and ashes.
I am pleasantly-tired: overwhelmed by this Awesome Omnipresence of God’s Provident Beauty.
It is my greatest pleasure to have shared it with You!
“Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning…
Red sky by night, shepherd’s delight…”
We’ll see…
3 Ladies for Tea
by Raymond Chait
16 March 2002
When men get together, they drink beer, they smoke, they talk sport, and then they end up fishing quietly… or they may even go out hunting together…
When women grow gregarious, they invariably chat, chat and chat… time’s ineluctability of no consequence to them in these aroused states, makes inscrutability our focal-point…
On Saturday, 3 eager ladies found a conversation-conducive niche, and collapsed into cool, comfortable couches, and… 1… 2… 3… zoomed off… each obviously lubricated her respective vocal chords beforehand, because they were bubbling, boiling, baking, baste-ing, broiling, burning… to go…
I risk admonishment and castigation and being tagged the prototype male chauvinistic pig, but fact remains fact, and Truth remains stranger than fiction…
Topic 1: Australia… the excitement of their impending trip together is electrically- palpable; their simultaneous energy-surges exuberantly animates the atmosphere: what footwear is the most comfortable, so the feet don’t swell or smell, medications, ointments and injections that need to be popped, rubbed or pricked before, during, and after the flight, what to pack into their suitcases for maybe, or just-in-case; and special shoes for much walking, in humble deference to their fitness-dreams.
Topic 2: The Perfect Potato Salad: the ideal potato salad grips the next half hour: ingredients juggle from olive oil to eggs. A heated debate ensues regarding the perfect temperature at which the cooked potatoes should be divested of their skins, and the optimum consistency of the final mixture, so as to achieve a perfect touch.
Topic 3: Illnesses: Scleroderma: What the heck is that?
Now we slip effortlessly into the role of charlatan-quacks. Scleroderma is a skin-condition which thickens the blood, and uncontrolled, can be very fatal.
The topic of our certain mortality quickly reaches a dead-end.
We then press on effortlessly with the subject of diets, of course, meaning fat-free, cholesterol-free, calories-free, including even the extreme precautionary measure of a Brita water-filter!
I now sit wondering if, besides their face-packs, these 3 ladies ever wear designer masks, so as to filter the air: this is most certainly the age of neuroses de luxe and phobias par excellance!
I can NOT resist, nor hold back, a blast of a hearty giggle, when I relive one lady speaking of her husband’s tooth-implant failures setting him back R100 000: it seems that for these crème-de-la-crème affluents, money is a drop in their ocean of prosperity.
Topic 4: Their Wealth: when they were just young girls, they conceded that jewellery was for older women. Now that they ARE older women, jewellery is for them!
They agreed that the best jewellery designer is Sheldon: reliable, dependable, and so-imaginatively-creative when he takes them out, each in turn, for tea!
They must have a ring for every finger… they admit that the Australian waiters know the South African women, all decked up like the proverbial, over-done Xmas Tree!
Topic 5: The Sipping: Rooibos Tea arrives. Oh, why is the water not boiling?…
And the 3 ladies summon Earl Grey in person, to lodge their complaints. They give a firm command for the waiter to fulfil their directive “on the double”!
“Please” and “Thank You” went out of fashion long ago for them!
The poor waiter breaks out into a sweat, trying to satisfy their very-desperate needs.
2 of the ladies share a scone, and keep coaxing the third “just to taste”, “just to taste”, “just to taste”.
After this nagging reaches an extreme, the wavering non-conformer finally relents reluctantly, and she daintily pops a crumb.
Topic 6: Boyfriends and the exchanging of telephone numbers: Sheldon has to meet Shelley… their personalities will gel, and they will be so happy together: wouldn’t it be nice to come back from Australia and walk into a wedding.
One lady’s cell-phone rings a nervously-metronomic classical noise. When she answers, with the typically-nasal “howzit”, all conversation comes to an abrupt halt…
Inscrutably, the 3 ladies look at me, as I can no longer stifle my fun.
They notice my floundering attempts, again, to read my short novel.
They all agree that they have no time for books: one wonders why!
The Boeing flew over at Twelve pronto, and each of these ladies had to run off to their respective lunch appointments.
Silence fell like a cosy blanket.
I finished my short novel - eventually - now that there was relative quiet, then captured on paper, for perpetuity, a rough draft of my special time with these special ladies.
(I must concede, also, the error of generalization!)
Especially for You, S H E P
by Raymond Chait
(circa 1975)
A man’s dog is an extension of himself
He projects into the mannerisms of his dog
Those attributes that he would have were he a dog
Communication is not verbal, but by vibes
And these, too, become part of the dog
And so, S H E P … the consolation for my being angry
An ever-present agility and lust for all that is good …
A willingness to obey that radiates from the remotest
Rivers in S H E P’s eyes …
An expression so happy that exudes from S H E P
Always happy, alert and nimble …
Such a temperate friend I’ll never have
I will surely fade if You do
Always there: never too busy to hear my sorrows
And never getting enough of his share of my happiness …
Who else in the world would spend a whole day waiting just for me ?
I know only You could do that …
Who else would respond to my call every time without fail ?
For this reason, S H E P, I feel so indebted to You …
What I do for You is comparable
To the smallest pebble at the bottom of a pond
For this reason, S H E P,
I write these words with my tears
For only Y O U !
A Moment Closer to God
by Raymond Chait
21 November 2002
A ll our efforts should be directed
M ainly to bringing happiness and peace
O nly having pure thoughts
M oving towards a goal of always pleasing Our Maker
E very day we should wake to
N otice His beauty all around Us
T aking time to be grateful for each moment that God graces us to partake of His
beautiful World
C uddle close to the Source of His Power:
L ive to Help Others
O ffer, above all, Your TIME
S o as to make the isolated ones feel less lonely
E ach of these Noble Deeds
R eveals to us more of God’s Glory
T ake TIME to be really Thankful
O ver and over again, without end
G et in touch with OUR MAKER
O nly Live For HIM…
D o everything for HIS GREATER GLORY
Lift
by Raymond Chait
(undated: early 1970’s)
Scissors open … close
Some enter … leave
Shut … up
1 … 2 … 3 …
Open … out … in …
Shut … down …
2 … 1 … G …
Numbered dots linked by wires hidden -
Confined by heaven and earth
Few planets in between
Magnificently-charged wire
Directs its victim
Whose day ends
With the approach of night.
Star in a New South Africa
By Raymond Chait
19 March 1996
One lonely heart beats in the middle of an endless, damp, cold night…
Peaceful sleep eludes my foetal, snuggling form - a disintegrating cardboard futon, my refuge.
An inexplicable surrender displaces my hurt, anger and feelings of worthlessness. Possessing nothing, frees me from this frenetic-paced world of selfish-materialism.
The birds sail the crisp morning breeze. A hint of the rising sun warms me to consciousness. The sensitivity of being, bossoms. My secret starts unfolding…
My wrinkled granny-fingers reach out to touch you. My name is Star. What’s yours?
The grass is wet and this place is haunted, but please listen to me for just one moment…
The cardboard sticks to my clothes. The muddy-puddle and the sand-pebbles scratch through to my skin, more so than the razor that Mpho gave to me…
I must tell you about Mpho… most people ignore me and treat me with contempt: he’s the only person in the whole world who sports a smile, and he has been blessed with the softest, kindest eyes… every time he passes this way, he gives me some bread and sometimes even a coin!
Yesterday, he left me with a book: Wilbur Smith’s “Eagle in the Sky”…
The bread feeds my body…
The coin may some day save my soul… and
The grace of reading may one day save my life…
And I’m proud to look you in the eyes, because at last, I’ve shaved… the first time in months… a new freshness overwhelms me after bathing in the cascading, cool waters, and with that, a second lease on life…
How long will this fantastic equanimity last?
I suppose that if I can snap one idyllic moment of happiness from life’s tree, I should gratefully nurture it like a seed and then stand back, and from a distance, watch it blossom bountifully…
Nature always intrigues me. It allows me to dreamily transcend into a time-capsule, thus enabling me to experience heavenly eternity…
Enter the time-warp…
These goats and I and no-one else. Won’t you, for just one moment, stop by and listen to their innocent beckoning?
Look at the transparent TRUTH in their distant unfocus.
Is it not wondrous?
We are safely-protected by the undulating hills, which unfold their magic mysticism magnificently.
I am just a little boy, yet I have an intuitive knowledge that some of us exude an inexplicable gift of synchronicity with nature and animals. This alienates us from other people. Perhaps it makes us seem eccentric!
I never want to grow up! I want to clasp onto this fleeting treasure-trove of my boyhood days…
The teacher pinches my ear. She makes me cognisant of the present - the mundane discipline of reading, writing and arithmetic. The confines of these walls triggers an urge to escape, if only in imagination…
When she turns her back, I steal away again into this amazing time-capsule, and in one fell swoop, I return to the hills and to the soft whispering of eternity…
A nightmare shakes me awake. The pain grips me again.
The knife that is going to cut off the edge of my manhood, lurks closer. Torturous days tear away my childhood mask and a shaved man comes forth… there’s a now-broken voice, plaintively-resigned, reiterating: “Why me?”
The city beckons me away from the pains of life: maybe money, music and women will bring to me the peace I so-desperately crave.
I now ride the “blue train” - it takes me backwards and forwards and allows me to remember and then to dream…
It transports me to a world where I can cope by escaping.
NO! NO! NO!
I must grope onto the vestiges of my reality…
I want to read Wilbur Smith when the sun rises just now…
I’ll read until the sun sets…
You probably know my secret by now!
I am forever grateful to Mpho, who saved my life!
I live to be an author, so that I can write about the charms of Africa, where there is never a need to escape, because the reality is so beautiful!
If you pass this way at the close of day, you will perhaps meet me again, but this time I will be smiling into the sunset…
Then I’ll creep into the bushes and spread out my carton futon and put my head down to rest…
And then I’ll awaken with an exuberant excitement!
I am now at one with eternity and the night is oh, so beautiful… so truly beautiful…
“B.B.”
by Raymond Chait
9 June 1996
The sun thaws this gaunt apparition sitting on the bench…
Ripples in the lake cast my moving shadow.
Oh! How frightening a caricature it is!
Yesterday’s news is the wrapper of this Best Blend tobacco.
Gently, I stop more of this stuff into the long newspaper tunnel - time eludes me.
Most people circling Rhodes’ Park either ignore me or are so enamoured with their own importance, that they don’t see me.
The day grows cuddlier and cosier, and the solar warmth stirs my sole, tired soul.
The pulsing rhythms of life make me acutely-aware of the birds’ symphony and the ducks’ quack-song and their pecking-order punctiliousness.
The wind rustling through the trees tickles my ears, and whispers its secrets of eternity…
And in the distance , I notice 3 forms approaching - bubbling with conversation and bursting with enthusiasm.
Before they pass me, they actually recognise me as a person - they give me an identity. They pause and greet me… is this really True?
I can hardly believe my luck - I get offered a cigarette - is this a gift from the gods?
I’ll never forget this moment, which is incurably and indelibly etched in my mind until my final heart-beat… someone spoke to me on this lonely, lost Sunday!
Somebody actually stopped and noticed me!
This gives me reason to want to live again!
I inhale every puff, successfully transcending time - backwards and forwards and I pluck the memories I choose to relive.
I blow them back to reality with the smoke-rings, which dissipate in the distance.
Memory is the priceless gift I carry around with me wherever I go.
But only at idyllic moments like this, can I flick from it a multiplicity of beautiful and colourful flashes of my life.
It’s as if it now ceases being stifled, and with vitality, blossoms back my long-lost happiness!
THE ALPHABET OF MOTIVATION
by Raymond Chait
30 August 1992
Abraham Maslow’s theory on Motivation states that human needs must be satisfied.
Frederick Herzberg’s theory on Motivation argues that manipulating the elements that cause dissatisfaction (Hygiene Factors) cannot significantly increase satisfaction, although it may decrease dissatisfaction. Only by increasing the Motivators, may satisfaction be increased.
James March and Herbert Simon offer a dynamic model of behaviour with satisfaction being viewed as a balance between input from Expected Value of reward and levels of aspiration.
Lyman Porter and Edward Lawler show a more direct relationship between performance and satisfaction, with the prediction that performance leads to satisfaction.
Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet, explains life’s learning processes as those which elevate us beyond the threshold of our existing knowledge.
Vincent van Gogh awakens in us a desire to savour and enjoy a multiplicity of experiences: “To know life is to love many things.”
Friend Rowan M.S. advises us that if you can do something, leave it and try something else.
Let us now be daring and share an eclectic view, which we will integrate from empirical experiences only…
Motivation springs from an aroused desire to improve and move forward along life’s compulsory course.
We cannot elect to remain static…
We stand to lose our competitive edge if we are not constantly enthused to improve on our existing framework of knowledge.
The penalty is that we will fall behind and remain like Mr. Hermit, on our lonesome!
There are 5 groups of people: those who wait, those who wander, those who wonder, those who watch, and those who make things happen. Which group do we want to slot into?
Life is tough.
We are forced to take on the whole journey, so we will make the most of it, absorbing all the scenery along the way…
The A to Z of Motivation:
A…. ACTIVATE DORMANT POTENTIAL:
Assess our strengths, and turn our weaknesses into opportunities, by working on them.
B… BALANCE OUR MINDS, BODIES AND SOULS:
Move these three inextricably-linked components harmoniously and simultaneously forward. Plug any leaks that drain energy, so that we blend these three in order to excel. We will feel lively and almost ethereal, as we find ourselves soaring to greater heights.
C… CREATE CHALLENGES:
We must cultivate curiosity, channeling all our energies in a positive direction. How can we then ever be bored or passive, if activity sparks our guiding light?
D… DO:
Doing is the thing. Never procrastinate. There is only NOW. Yesterday is a memory and tomorrow is a dream away. Each moment lost, is lost forever. Let us begin our work now, and view it as a learning exercise. Physical work is an exercise to improve the body. Studying is exercise for the mind. We are always in need of spiritual upliftment too.
E… EVALUATE OUR PRIORITIES:
Extra effort is essential to programme each day…
Organise the minute to organise the hour to organise the day to organise our lives. Planning ahead is healthy, as it gives us previews, so that we can behave proactively and avert the potholes along life’s road.
F… FUSSING AND FAFFING ARE OUT…
Get on with it! A busy person gets things done. Put on a horse’s blinkers and move through the mire, behaving as if we enjoy mud-baths as a cleansing experience!
G… GO FOR BULL!
Set ourselves short-term sub-goals, which egg us on to long-term greater goals.
H… HOLD ON TENACIOUSLY:
Never give up, otherwise we will be stranded along the wayside. We are resolved to go all the way. Celebrating our achievements is the greatest glory. Having run our motivation-marathon, we will relax in a warm, all-consuming bath and reminisce in silence.
I… I is our EGOS:
Feed them furiously and become the best our potential allows. Iteratively, by taking one step at a time, learning from our own mistakes. We should view mistakes as stepping-stones to climb to the top of our beautiful mountain… the crest of the quest of our achievements. One step at a time gets us to the summit - sum that up! This is our optimised motivation strategy, indelibly etched in our minds.
J… JUMP TO IT:
Idling time is wasted energy. Say little and do much. The momentum of motivated energy feeds on itself.
K… KINDLE THE CANDLE:
Let us become fires of kinetic energy. In this way, the going gets good and the good gets going. Motivation, like the run-away fire, feeds on itself.
L… LOOK :
Most importantly, we should teach ourselves to see and to remember. If we are motivated, our sponge of enthusiasm soaks up with boundless energy - voraciously and tenaciously!
M… MOTIVATION MOVES MOUNTAINS MOST MAGNIFICENTLY, MAKING MANY MUNDANE MEMORIES MAGIC MOMENTS. (Especially for Mervyn)
N… NOW… NOW… NOW:
Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a dream. So move to motivation now. Seize the moment, living a splendid life, as if it may end at midnight!
O… OPEN DOORS OF ADVENTURE:
Move in and change the dark unknown to idyllic light. Organise our time optimally.
P… PRIDE CAN BETRAY US:
Rudyard Kipling in his poem “If”, advises us never to look too good… our motivation should be aimed to uplift ourselves, so as to uplift others. Our purpose in life should be to make this world a better place for all.
Q… QUICKLY:
Motivate ourselves to get going now. We should prepare our world so that it is always full and meaningful.
R… RESTRUCTURE OUR MINDS:
This is how we should optimally utilise times of quiet so as to move forward meticulously in order to realise our goals… undaunted and unhindered.
S… SEE SET-BACKS AS STEPPING-STONES:
What does not break us, makes us stronger.
T… TEA-STOPS ARE HEALTHY:
We should use these times as periods which enable us to think positively about how to channel our energies in positive directions.
U… YOU AND I GAIN BENEFITS FOR OURSELVES BY BECOMING INDEPENDENT:
This motivation-technique enables us to thrive and attain freedom.
V… VICTORY:
This is the goal of motivation in action.
W… WELL DONE:
101 %.
X… EXCELLENT:
On target.
Y… WHY MOTIVATION:
So that we can become better and more productive people.
Z… ZEST IS ENERGY FOR MOTIVATION…
Zoom forward to greatest heights.
My fervent hope is for us to reread this piece of writing from time to time and use it as a secret Motivation-key to help us to move forward to our goal of getting the most colourful picture…
LIFE-TIMES OF MOTIVATION…
FULL LIVES!
Fanny Koekemoer faks haar familie
deur Raymond Chait
22 Augustus 2001
“Ek kom, ek kom” skree sy in die telefoon se mondstuk.
Dis middernag. Skielik soos blits, is daar ‘n hemelvol liggies in die ou gebou.
Van die slaap is almal wakker geraas deur Fanny se harde stem wat dreun deur die gebou soos ‘n aardbewing.
Buurvrouens gekleed in nagrokke, en mans met lelike ou pantoffels, klop hard aan Fanny se deur.
“Wag eers! Ek moet my gehoorapparaat bykom”, skree sy terwyl sy oor die volgepakte dose spring, nes ‘n springkaan.
Al haar batterye is nou pap. Dit beteken dat haar gehoorapparaat buite werking is.
Die buurmense se woede is tasbaar, en die enigste rede wat ‘n oorlog nou kan keer, is die feit dat Fanny oor die tagtig jaar is.
Dis nie die eerste keer dat sy die hele gebou in so ‘n mate wakker geraas het nie.
Dit gebeur elke keer dat sy geselskap oor die telefoon probeer voer.
Fanny het geen ander uitweg as om haar familie te faks nie.
Fanny is al jare lank gestrem met die swak sintuig van haar gehoor, maar dit pla haar glad nie - net wanneer sy haar seun in San Francisco bel.
Hy is nou raadop, want oproepe is duur, en Fanny verstaan niks van die geselskap nie.
Die buurmense word met sulke geskreeu elke keer uit hul slaap gesteur.
Hoekom bel Fanny haar seun Harry middernag, is eintlik omdat daar ‘n tydsverskil tussen die twee vastelande is: Suid Afrika en die Vereenigde State van Amerika.
Maar diè ding gaan binne die volgende paar dae tot ‘n einde kom, want Fanny is alreeds gereed en op pad na haar seun vir die res van haar lewe.
“Ek is jammer. Ek vra weer verskoning, maar ek word so senuweeagtig wanneer ek met my seun praat, sonder om bewus te wees hiervan, begin ek so te skreeu. Ek hoor dit nie eens nie.
Fanny bekyk haarself in die spieël en begin huil: jare terug, toe sy kunstenaar geword het, was haar liggaam so uiters mooi dat sy haarself naak begin skilder het - nou skrik sy vir haar eie weerkaatsing en weier om verder moeite te maak om haarself naak te skilder.
“Hoekom tas tyd ‘n mens so lelik aan, soos ‘n siekte wat die liggaam verteer?” vra sy.
Sy loop nou gebukkend. Sy let op, ook , dat haar ore en neus lelik begin vergroot het. Die natuur kry sy versadiging en plesier om die mens so afskuwelik te verander, met die verloop van die jare.
Sy glimlag: “Ek gaan dit mos probeer keer met die gebruik van al hoe meer grimering”.
Sy lag nou vir haarself, terwyl sy ‘n traan wegpink met ‘n sneesdoekie: “My Skepper wil nie hê dat ek myself bejammer nie. Hy wil gedurig ‘n glimlag sien op my gesig, kom wat wil.”
Sy verstel haar vals tande, en glimlag weer, maar dié keer glimlag sy breed…
Oor ‘n dag of so, omhels sy haar seun.
“Jaaaaaaa… ” sing sy dit uit, soos ‘n merrie wat runnik en verbeel haar hy staan alreeds voor haar. Ek gaan die mense in sy buurt leer hoe om die lewe weer ten volle te kan geniet.”
Sy lig haar lang, swart rok effens op en begin dans. Haar lang tone vergesel haar van uit die venstertjies van haar sandale.
Uitasem kom sy dan tot stilstand…
Sy plons sommer in ‘n stoel neer, en sy dink aan die lys dingetjies wat sy nog moet afhandel en agter die rug kry - haar belasting moet ten volle betaal word voordat sy toegelaat sal word om die land permanent te verlaat, sy moet ook reëlings tref om haar bankrekening te sluit, en haar paar oorskiet meubels verkoop te kry…
Fanny het amper niks geslaap nie. Sy ontklee en bekyk haarself in die spieël, en dan spring sy sommer in haar bad.
Die oplossing van al haar probleme werk baie goed in haar guns: voordat sy daarvan bewus is, is haar klere en dose volgepak met haar kunswerke, en sy is op pad per taxi lughawe toe.
Gedurende haar laaste ure in Suid Afrika, flits ‘n paar onlangse hoogtepunte haar gedagtes deur: ‘n uitstappie met ‘n nuwe vriend na ‘n koffiekroeg: op pad het sy ‘n bekende dame ontmoet met haar babatjie in haar arms. Die babatjie het begin huil toe sy in Fanny se gesig vaskyk.
Kort daarna, het ‘n groep kinders wyd verby haar geloop, en hardop geterg: “Hekse loop in die buurt rond. Ons het netnou nog een gesien.”
Fanny het pikswart lang hare wat oor haar skouers val, en dit lyk altyd soos rotte se sterte.
‘n Ander ervaring, was ‘n onlangse besoek die stad in, met haar swart Volla: sy het vir die self-aangestelde parkeerbeampte geskreeu toe hy na haar motor aangestap kom. Hy het mos net verdwyn soos konfetti in die wind.
Sy het nou definitief besef dat sy beheer het oor mense, want hulle is so bang vir haar beplooide gesig.
By die lughawe, keer die sekuriteidsbeamptes haar toe sy verby die hek met die groen lig wou loop, terwyl sy haar vliegtuigkaartjie toon.
Haar bagasie en die kartonne met haar kunswerke word oopgemaak:
“En wat gaan hier aan, Ouma?”
“Dis mos my skilderye”, antwoord sy kort en bondig.
“Maar wat maak Ouma dan met naak fotos?”
“Dis ek!” antwoord sy onskuldig.
Nie een van die beamptes kan verstaan presies wat aangaan nie.
Almal staar en staan verstom…
Niks verder word bespreek nie.
Fanny klim die trappe op en neem haar sitplek in die vliegtuig in.
Veiligheidsmaatreëls word beduie en Fanny skrik so dat sy moet knyp!
Sy gil uit: “Dit lyk asof hulle gereed maak vir ‘n ongeluk. As ons in die see beland, kan ek glad nie swem nie.”
Vrye alkohol drankies word bedien.
Fanny spring in. Sy kap die een na die ander om alle lelike gedagtes uit haar kop te kry en ook om haar vrees te onderdruk.
Die enjins veroorsaak dat die vliegtuig begin bewe en dan begin dit te beweeg.
Na ‘n hel se lawaai, styg dit op…
Fanny voel snaaks: “Ek verloor my asem. Ek voel naar. Ek word al hoe meer benoud.”
Fanny probeer die venster oopmaak en let op dat daar geen handvatsel is nie.
Die lugwaardin spring in: “Oumatjie, daar’s lugreëling. Maak intussen die knope van jou rok bo oop, en maak die veiligheidsgordel vas, en kalmeer jouself asseblief ter wille van die ander passasiers.
Fanny kan nie meer stilsit nie en dring aan dat sy wil terug lughawe toe.
Die passasiers rondom haar probeer haar ook tot bedaring bring.
Die lugwaardin oorweeg dit om Oumatjie ‘n kalmerende inspuiting te gee!
Fanny begin uitskree dat sy dit nooit sal regkry om vir ure lank so ongemaklik te kan sit nie, veral omdat die man langs haar nou sy ou skoene uitgetrek het. Die reuk van sy voete is besig om haar heel duiselig te laat voel.
Haar vals tande het intussen uitgeval en op dié man se skoot beland.
Nou voel Fanny baie onrustig en senuweeagtig. Sy vra vir dié man of sy verby hom mag loop, sodat sy toilet toe kan gaan.
Tekens oral toon aan:
“ROOK VERBODE”
Fanny sluit die toilet deur en steek ‘n sigaret aan.
Die rook alarms begin te kere gaan om die lugwaardin te waarsku dat iemand in die toilet besig is om onwettig te rook. Sy ontbied die hulp van die vlieëniers. Hulle forseer die deur oop.
Fanny spring van die toilet af op.
“Meneer, wat jy nou doen is heeltemal onbeskof. Hoe durf jy aan die deur peuter terwyl ‘n dame die toilet beset.”
“Toilet beset en wil rook is ontoelaatbaar,” antwoord die vlieënier.
Fanny gaan nou te kere: “Ek het dit nooit in my lewe teëgekom dat ‘n man so optree nie. Meneer, ek sal dit nooit oorweeg om weer in my lewe te vlieg nie.
Fanny begin huil, en sy bewe van woede.
Van al die drank, word sy dan vaak en vir ure lank, bly sy rustig slaap.
Die lugwaardin maak haar wakker nadat die vliegtuig se deur oopgemaak is met die aankoms by San Francisco lughawe.
Fanny Koekemoer voel skielik dat haar lewe ‘n nuwe begin gekry het.
“Ek het gekom… Ek het gekom”, skree sy hardop, toe sy in Harry se arms inloop.
“Ma, mense wag vir die uitstalling van al jou kunswerke. Hier is ‘n groot aanvraag vir Ma se naak skilderye, en die Dollars sal maklik in jou skoot inrol. Dan kan jy saam met my elke naweek oor Golden Gate fiets ry, en ons sal dan ‘n lekker middagete in Sausalito geniet.”
“Ja”, antwoord Fanny, “ek het nuwe batterye vir my gehoorapparaat saamgebring. Ek moet hulle nog insit.”
Sy soen hom op altwee wange.
Sy hoef nooit weer haar familie te faks nie. Sy is mos nou vir ewig saam met hulle… veral met Harry, haar gunstelling seun.
Spectacular Sunset at Sea Point
By Raymond Chait
23 April 2002
At the touch of a button, I delight in bringing Beach Road traffic to a halt.
I then stride slowly and proudly across the Zebra Crossing near Winchester Mansions Hotel, whilst leering lingeringly at the cars’ stressed-out occupants.
They say “red sky by night, shepherd’s delight… red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.”
Not one of these cars’ angst-filled occupants saw the spectacular sunset at Sea-Point today.
It was the best sunset at Sea Point in the 50 consecutive ones God has graced me to have recently witnessed. That is why I want to share this particular superbly, splendidly-spectacular sunset at Sea Point with YOU:
Sit back, take a deep breath and relax, then sail away on my humble choice of words, as I string them together to give You a heavenly-idyllic experience:
The wind is a crisp exhilarating tingling tickle on Your soft skin. You feel it romantically nestle on Your cheeks as it pats past Your ears
The birds’ symphony is at its gloriously-heavenly zenith – a crescendo of congruent, calm chords cascading cumulatively in a colourful cocoon around You
.
The silver-white, soft, curdling, crunching crests follow the billowing swells: breakers augmenting the orchestra.
Distant kettle-drum breakers crash in perfect pitch. They then echo, severing the silent interludes of the birds’ song
.
The sea’s subtle colour-nuances blend: deep blues, greens, iron-greys… movements perfectly paced with nature’s wondrous symphony.
The sky is a pastel paintwork of red, orange, gold, yellow; and the sun a full, round, radiant red.
Behind You is an animated Lion’s Head, and Table Mountain is graced with a glorious halo - a bright rainbow, igniting these most-magnificent of Nature’s Masterpieces.
Few Cumulus Clouds are dauntingly grey-black. Tomorrow’s sky in the far west is a magic blue.
As the minutes slide away ineluctably, this subtle magic changes: punctuated moment for moment.
The new waxing moon cruises into the Eastern Sky, a solitary silent silhouette, draped by a charismatic shroud of silver-grey: she sails smoothly, softly. She unveils herself shyly, with her virginal innocence and candour, moment by moment.
The sun in the west sneaks away behind the horizon in the far sea’s distance, and the sky’s colours now meld magically into more pronounced and punctuated perfections of red, orange, yellow: the sun has said goodnight. He has already gone to sleep.
The birds’ song is suddenly softer now, because the sirens and the cars’ devil-drones have scared them away all-too-soon, clipping short this momentary, fleeting Revelation of God’s Inordinate Beauty.
We are insulting invaders of this unhurried, Pure Earth!
We’ve chased away this delicious splendour forever!
The traffic lights have turned green now, and these pressured people push away to the plastic comfort of their technologically-dictated lives.
Their sunsets are cigarette smoke and ashes.
I am pleasantly-tired: overwhelmed by this Awesome Omnipresence of God’s Provident Beauty.
It is my greatest pleasure to have shared it with You!
“Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning…
Red sky by night, shepherd’s delight…”
We’ll see…
3 Ladies for Tea
by Raymond Chait
16 March 2002
When men get together, they drink beer, they smoke, they talk sport, and then they end up fishing quietly… or they may even go out hunting together…
When women grow gregarious, they invariably chat, chat and chat… time’s ineluctability of no consequence to them in these aroused states, makes inscrutability our focal-point…
On Saturday, 3 eager ladies found a conversation-conducive niche, and collapsed into cool, comfortable couches, and… 1… 2… 3… zoomed off… each obviously lubricated her respective vocal chords beforehand, because they were bubbling, boiling, baking, baste-ing, broiling, burning… to go…
I risk admonishment and castigation and being tagged the prototype male chauvinistic pig, but fact remains fact, and Truth remains stranger than fiction…
Topic 1: Australia… the excitement of their impending trip together is electrically- palpable; their simultaneous energy-surges exuberantly animates the atmosphere: what footwear is the most comfortable, so the feet don’t swell or smell, medications, ointments and injections that need to be popped, rubbed or pricked before, during, and after the flight, what to pack into their suitcases for maybe, or just-in-case; and special shoes for much walking, in humble deference to their fitness-dreams.
Topic 2: The Perfect Potato Salad: the ideal potato salad grips the next half hour: ingredients juggle from olive oil to eggs. A heated debate ensues regarding the perfect temperature at which the cooked potatoes should be divested of their skins, and the optimum consistency of the final mixture, so as to achieve a perfect touch.
Topic 3: Illnesses: Scleroderma: What the heck is that?
Now we slip effortlessly into the role of charlatan-quacks. Scleroderma is a skin-condition which thickens the blood, and uncontrolled, can be very fatal.
The topic of our certain mortality quickly reaches a dead-end.
We then press on effortlessly with the subject of diets, of course, meaning fat-free, cholesterol-free, calories-free, including even the extreme precautionary measure of a Brita water-filter!
I now sit wondering if, besides their face-packs, these 3 ladies ever wear designer masks, so as to filter the air: this is most certainly the age of neuroses de luxe and phobias par excellance!
I can NOT resist, nor hold back, a blast of a hearty giggle, when I relive one lady speaking of her husband’s tooth-implant failures setting him back R100 000: it seems that for these crème-de-la-crème affluents, money is a drop in their ocean of prosperity.
Topic 4: Their Wealth: when they were just young girls, they conceded that jewellery was for older women. Now that they ARE older women, jewellery is for them!
They agreed that the best jewellery designer is Sheldon: reliable, dependable, and so-imaginatively-creative when he takes them out, each in turn, for tea!
They must have a ring for every finger… they admit that the Australian waiters know the South African women, all decked up like the proverbial, over-done Xmas Tree!
Topic 5: The Sipping: Rooibos Tea arrives. Oh, why is the water not boiling?…
And the 3 ladies summon Earl Grey in person, to lodge their complaints. They give a firm command for the waiter to fulfil their directive “on the double”!
“Please” and “Thank You” went out of fashion long ago for them!
The poor waiter breaks out into a sweat, trying to satisfy their very-desperate needs.
2 of the ladies share a scone, and keep coaxing the third “just to taste”, “just to taste”, “just to taste”.
After this nagging reaches an extreme, the wavering non-conformer finally relents reluctantly, and she daintily pops a crumb.
Topic 6: Boyfriends and the exchanging of telephone numbers: Sheldon has to meet Shelley… their personalities will gel, and they will be so happy together: wouldn’t it be nice to come back from Australia and walk into a wedding.
One lady’s cell-phone rings a nervously-metronomic classical noise. When she answers, with the typically-nasal “howzit”, all conversation comes to an abrupt halt…
Inscrutably, the 3 ladies look at me, as I can no longer stifle my fun.
They notice my floundering attempts, again, to read my short novel.
They all agree that they have no time for books: one wonders why!
The Boeing flew over at Twelve pronto, and each of these ladies had to run off to their respective lunch appointments.
Silence fell like a cosy blanket.
I finished my short novel - eventually - now that there was relative quiet, then captured on paper, for perpetuity, a rough draft of my special time with these special ladies.
(I must concede, also, the error of generalization!)
Especially for You, S H E P
by Raymond Chait
(circa 1975)
A man’s dog is an extension of himself
He projects into the mannerisms of his dog
Those attributes that he would have were he a dog
Communication is not verbal, but by vibes
And these, too, become part of the dog
And so, S H E P … the consolation for my being angry
An ever-present agility and lust for all that is good …
A willingness to obey that radiates from the remotest
Rivers in S H E P’s eyes …
An expression so happy that exudes from S H E P
Always happy, alert and nimble …
Such a temperate friend I’ll never have
I will surely fade if You do
Always there: never too busy to hear my sorrows
And never getting enough of his share of my happiness …
Who else in the world would spend a whole day waiting just for me ?
I know only You could do that …
Who else would respond to my call every time without fail ?
For this reason, S H E P, I feel so indebted to You …
What I do for You is comparable
To the smallest pebble at the bottom of a pond
For this reason, S H E P,
I write these words with my tears
For only Y O U !
A Moment Closer to God
by Raymond Chait
21 November 2002
A ll our efforts should be directed
M ainly to bringing happiness and peace
O nly having pure thoughts
M oving towards a goal of always pleasing Our Maker
E very day we should wake to
N otice His beauty all around Us
T aking time to be grateful for each moment that God graces us to partake of His
beautiful World
C uddle close to the Source of His Power:
L ive to Help Others
O ffer, above all, Your TIME
S o as to make the isolated ones feel less lonely
E ach of these Noble Deeds
R eveals to us more of God’s Glory
T ake TIME to be really Thankful
O ver and over again, without end
G et in touch with OUR MAKER
O nly Live For HIM…
D o everything for HIS GREATER GLORY
Lift
by Raymond Chait
(undated: early 1970’s)
Scissors open … close
Some enter … leave
Shut … up
1 … 2 … 3 …
Open … out … in …
Shut … down …
2 … 1 … G …
Numbered dots linked by wires hidden -
Confined by heaven and earth
Few planets in between
Magnificently-charged wire
Directs its victim
Whose day ends
With the approach of night.
Star in a New South Africa
By Raymond Chait
19 March 1996
One lonely heart beats in the middle of an endless, damp, cold night…
Peaceful sleep eludes my foetal, snuggling form - a disintegrating cardboard futon, my refuge.
An inexplicable surrender displaces my hurt, anger and feelings of worthlessness. Possessing nothing, frees me from this frenetic-paced world of selfish-materialism.
The birds sail the crisp morning breeze. A hint of the rising sun warms me to consciousness. The sensitivity of being, bossoms. My secret starts unfolding…
My wrinkled granny-fingers reach out to touch you. My name is Star. What’s yours?
The grass is wet and this place is haunted, but please listen to me for just one moment…
The cardboard sticks to my clothes. The muddy-puddle and the sand-pebbles scratch through to my skin, more so than the razor that Mpho gave to me…
I must tell you about Mpho… most people ignore me and treat me with contempt: he’s the only person in the whole world who sports a smile, and he has been blessed with the softest, kindest eyes… every time he passes this way, he gives me some bread and sometimes even a coin!
Yesterday, he left me with a book: Wilbur Smith’s “Eagle in the Sky”…
The bread feeds my body…
The coin may some day save my soul… and
The grace of reading may one day save my life…
And I’m proud to look you in the eyes, because at last, I’ve shaved… the first time in months… a new freshness overwhelms me after bathing in the cascading, cool waters, and with that, a second lease on life…
How long will this fantastic equanimity last?
I suppose that if I can snap one idyllic moment of happiness from life’s tree, I should gratefully nurture it like a seed and then stand back, and from a distance, watch it blossom bountifully…
Nature always intrigues me. It allows me to dreamily transcend into a time-capsule, thus enabling me to experience heavenly eternity…
Enter the time-warp…
These goats and I and no-one else. Won’t you, for just one moment, stop by and listen to their innocent beckoning?
Look at the transparent TRUTH in their distant unfocus.
Is it not wondrous?
We are safely-protected by the undulating hills, which unfold their magic mysticism magnificently.
I am just a little boy, yet I have an intuitive knowledge that some of us exude an inexplicable gift of synchronicity with nature and animals. This alienates us from other people. Perhaps it makes us seem eccentric!
I never want to grow up! I want to clasp onto this fleeting treasure-trove of my boyhood days…
The teacher pinches my ear. She makes me cognisant of the present - the mundane discipline of reading, writing and arithmetic. The confines of these walls triggers an urge to escape, if only in imagination…
When she turns her back, I steal away again into this amazing time-capsule, and in one fell swoop, I return to the hills and to the soft whispering of eternity…
A nightmare shakes me awake. The pain grips me again.
The knife that is going to cut off the edge of my manhood, lurks closer. Torturous days tear away my childhood mask and a shaved man comes forth… there’s a now-broken voice, plaintively-resigned, reiterating: “Why me?”
The city beckons me away from the pains of life: maybe money, music and women will bring to me the peace I so-desperately crave.
I now ride the “blue train” - it takes me backwards and forwards and allows me to remember and then to dream…
It transports me to a world where I can cope by escaping.
NO! NO! NO!
I must grope onto the vestiges of my reality…
I want to read Wilbur Smith when the sun rises just now…
I’ll read until the sun sets…
You probably know my secret by now!
I am forever grateful to Mpho, who saved my life!
I live to be an author, so that I can write about the charms of Africa, where there is never a need to escape, because the reality is so beautiful!
If you pass this way at the close of day, you will perhaps meet me again, but this time I will be smiling into the sunset…
Then I’ll creep into the bushes and spread out my carton futon and put my head down to rest…
And then I’ll awaken with an exuberant excitement!
I am now at one with eternity and the night is oh, so beautiful… so truly beautiful…
“B.B.”
by Raymond Chait
9 June 1996
The sun thaws this gaunt apparition sitting on the bench…
Ripples in the lake cast my moving shadow.
Oh! How frightening a caricature it is!
Yesterday’s news is the wrapper of this Best Blend tobacco.
Gently, I stop more of this stuff into the long newspaper tunnel - time eludes me.
Most people circling Rhodes’ Park either ignore me or are so enamoured with their own importance, that they don’t see me.
The day grows cuddlier and cosier, and the solar warmth stirs my sole, tired soul.
The pulsing rhythms of life make me acutely-aware of the birds’ symphony and the ducks’ quack-song and their pecking-order punctiliousness.
The wind rustling through the trees tickles my ears, and whispers its secrets of eternity…
And in the distance , I notice 3 forms approaching - bubbling with conversation and bursting with enthusiasm.
Before they pass me, they actually recognise me as a person - they give me an identity. They pause and greet me… is this really True?
I can hardly believe my luck - I get offered a cigarette - is this a gift from the gods?
I’ll never forget this moment, which is incurably and indelibly etched in my mind until my final heart-beat… someone spoke to me on this lonely, lost Sunday!
Somebody actually stopped and noticed me!
This gives me reason to want to live again!
I inhale every puff, successfully transcending time - backwards and forwards and I pluck the memories I choose to relive.
I blow them back to reality with the smoke-rings, which dissipate in the distance.
Memory is the priceless gift I carry around with me wherever I go.
But only at idyllic moments like this, can I flick from it a multiplicity of beautiful and colourful flashes of my life.
It’s as if it now ceases being stifled, and with vitality, blossoms back my long-lost happiness!
THE ALPHABET OF MOTIVATION
by Raymond Chait
30 August 1992
Abraham Maslow’s theory on Motivation states that human needs must be satisfied.
Frederick Herzberg’s theory on Motivation argues that manipulating the elements that cause dissatisfaction (Hygiene Factors) cannot significantly increase satisfaction, although it may decrease dissatisfaction. Only by increasing the Motivators, may satisfaction be increased.
James March and Herbert Simon offer a dynamic model of behaviour with satisfaction being viewed as a balance between input from Expected Value of reward and levels of aspiration.
Lyman Porter and Edward Lawler show a more direct relationship between performance and satisfaction, with the prediction that performance leads to satisfaction.
Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet, explains life’s learning processes as those which elevate us beyond the threshold of our existing knowledge.
Vincent van Gogh awakens in us a desire to savour and enjoy a multiplicity of experiences: “To know life is to love many things.”
Friend Rowan M.S. advises us that if you can do something, leave it and try something else.
Let us now be daring and share an eclectic view, which we will integrate from empirical experiences only…
Motivation springs from an aroused desire to improve and move forward along life’s compulsory course.
We cannot elect to remain static…
We stand to lose our competitive edge if we are not constantly enthused to improve on our existing framework of knowledge.
The penalty is that we will fall behind and remain like Mr. Hermit, on our lonesome!
There are 5 groups of people: those who wait, those who wander, those who wonder, those who watch, and those who make things happen. Which group do we want to slot into?
Life is tough.
We are forced to take on the whole journey, so we will make the most of it, absorbing all the scenery along the way…
The A to Z of Motivation:
A…. ACTIVATE DORMANT POTENTIAL:
Assess our strengths, and turn our weaknesses into opportunities, by working on them.
B… BALANCE OUR MINDS, BODIES AND SOULS:
Move these three inextricably-linked components harmoniously and simultaneously forward. Plug any leaks that drain energy, so that we blend these three in order to excel. We will feel lively and almost ethereal, as we find ourselves soaring to greater heights.
C… CREATE CHALLENGES:
We must cultivate curiosity, channeling all our energies in a positive direction. How can we then ever be bored or passive, if activity sparks our guiding light?
D… DO:
Doing is the thing. Never procrastinate. There is only NOW. Yesterday is a memory and tomorrow is a dream away. Each moment lost, is lost forever. Let us begin our work now, and view it as a learning exercise. Physical work is an exercise to improve the body. Studying is exercise for the mind. We are always in need of spiritual upliftment too.
E… EVALUATE OUR PRIORITIES:
Extra effort is essential to programme each day…
Organise the minute to organise the hour to organise the day to organise our lives. Planning ahead is healthy, as it gives us previews, so that we can behave proactively and avert the potholes along life’s road.
F… FUSSING AND FAFFING ARE OUT…
Get on with it! A busy person gets things done. Put on a horse’s blinkers and move through the mire, behaving as if we enjoy mud-baths as a cleansing experience!
G… GO FOR BULL!
Set ourselves short-term sub-goals, which egg us on to long-term greater goals.
H… HOLD ON TENACIOUSLY:
Never give up, otherwise we will be stranded along the wayside. We are resolved to go all the way. Celebrating our achievements is the greatest glory. Having run our motivation-marathon, we will relax in a warm, all-consuming bath and reminisce in silence.
I… I is our EGOS:
Feed them furiously and become the best our potential allows. Iteratively, by taking one step at a time, learning from our own mistakes. We should view mistakes as stepping-stones to climb to the top of our beautiful mountain… the crest of the quest of our achievements. One step at a time gets us to the summit - sum that up! This is our optimised motivation strategy, indelibly etched in our minds.
J… JUMP TO IT:
Idling time is wasted energy. Say little and do much. The momentum of motivated energy feeds on itself.
K… KINDLE THE CANDLE:
Let us become fires of kinetic energy. In this way, the going gets good and the good gets going. Motivation, like the run-away fire, feeds on itself.
L… LOOK :
Most importantly, we should teach ourselves to see and to remember. If we are motivated, our sponge of enthusiasm soaks up with boundless energy - voraciously and tenaciously!
M… MOTIVATION MOVES MOUNTAINS MOST MAGNIFICENTLY, MAKING MANY MUNDANE MEMORIES MAGIC MOMENTS. (Especially for Mervyn)
N… NOW… NOW… NOW:
Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a dream. So move to motivation now. Seize the moment, living a splendid life, as if it may end at midnight!
O… OPEN DOORS OF ADVENTURE:
Move in and change the dark unknown to idyllic light. Organise our time optimally.
P… PRIDE CAN BETRAY US:
Rudyard Kipling in his poem “If”, advises us never to look too good… our motivation should be aimed to uplift ourselves, so as to uplift others. Our purpose in life should be to make this world a better place for all.
Q… QUICKLY:
Motivate ourselves to get going now. We should prepare our world so that it is always full and meaningful.
R… RESTRUCTURE OUR MINDS:
This is how we should optimally utilise times of quiet so as to move forward meticulously in order to realise our goals… undaunted and unhindered.
S… SEE SET-BACKS AS STEPPING-STONES:
What does not break us, makes us stronger.
T… TEA-STOPS ARE HEALTHY:
We should use these times as periods which enable us to think positively about how to channel our energies in positive directions.
U… YOU AND I GAIN BENEFITS FOR OURSELVES BY BECOMING INDEPENDENT:
This motivation-technique enables us to thrive and attain freedom.
V… VICTORY:
This is the goal of motivation in action.
W… WELL DONE:
101 %.
X… EXCELLENT:
On target.
Y… WHY MOTIVATION:
So that we can become better and more productive people.
Z… ZEST IS ENERGY FOR MOTIVATION…
Zoom forward to greatest heights.
My fervent hope is for us to reread this piece of writing from time to time and use it as a secret Motivation-key to help us to move forward to our goal of getting the most colourful picture…
LIFE-TIMES OF MOTIVATION…
FULL LIVES!
Fanny Koekemoer faks haar familie
deur Raymond Chait
22 Augustus 2001
“Ek kom, ek kom” skree sy in die telefoon se mondstuk.
Dis middernag. Skielik soos blits, is daar ‘n hemelvol liggies in die ou gebou.
Van die slaap is almal wakker geraas deur Fanny se harde stem wat dreun deur die gebou soos ‘n aardbewing.
Buurvrouens gekleed in nagrokke, en mans met lelike ou pantoffels, klop hard aan Fanny se deur.
“Wag eers! Ek moet my gehoorapparaat bykom”, skree sy terwyl sy oor die volgepakte dose spring, nes ‘n springkaan.
Al haar batterye is nou pap. Dit beteken dat haar gehoorapparaat buite werking is.
Die buurmense se woede is tasbaar, en die enigste rede wat ‘n oorlog nou kan keer, is die feit dat Fanny oor die tagtig jaar is.
Dis nie die eerste keer dat sy die hele gebou in so ‘n mate wakker geraas het nie.
Dit gebeur elke keer dat sy geselskap oor die telefoon probeer voer.
Fanny het geen ander uitweg as om haar familie te faks nie.
Fanny is al jare lank gestrem met die swak sintuig van haar gehoor, maar dit pla haar glad nie - net wanneer sy haar seun in San Francisco bel.
Hy is nou raadop, want oproepe is duur, en Fanny verstaan niks van die geselskap nie.
Die buurmense word met sulke geskreeu elke keer uit hul slaap gesteur.
Hoekom bel Fanny haar seun Harry middernag, is eintlik omdat daar ‘n tydsverskil tussen die twee vastelande is: Suid Afrika en die Vereenigde State van Amerika.
Maar diè ding gaan binne die volgende paar dae tot ‘n einde kom, want Fanny is alreeds gereed en op pad na haar seun vir die res van haar lewe.
“Ek is jammer. Ek vra weer verskoning, maar ek word so senuweeagtig wanneer ek met my seun praat, sonder om bewus te wees hiervan, begin ek so te skreeu. Ek hoor dit nie eens nie.
Fanny bekyk haarself in die spieël en begin huil: jare terug, toe sy kunstenaar geword het, was haar liggaam so uiters mooi dat sy haarself naak begin skilder het - nou skrik sy vir haar eie weerkaatsing en weier om verder moeite te maak om haarself naak te skilder.
“Hoekom tas tyd ‘n mens so lelik aan, soos ‘n siekte wat die liggaam verteer?” vra sy.
Sy loop nou gebukkend. Sy let op, ook , dat haar ore en neus lelik begin vergroot het. Die natuur kry sy versadiging en plesier om die mens so afskuwelik te verander, met die verloop van die jare.
Sy glimlag: “Ek gaan dit mos probeer keer met die gebruik van al hoe meer grimering”.
Sy lag nou vir haarself, terwyl sy ‘n traan wegpink met ‘n sneesdoekie: “My Skepper wil nie hê dat ek myself bejammer nie. Hy wil gedurig ‘n glimlag sien op my gesig, kom wat wil.”
Sy verstel haar vals tande, en glimlag weer, maar dié keer glimlag sy breed…
Oor ‘n dag of so, omhels sy haar seun.
“Jaaaaaaa… ” sing sy dit uit, soos ‘n merrie wat runnik en verbeel haar hy staan alreeds voor haar. Ek gaan die mense in sy buurt leer hoe om die lewe weer ten volle te kan geniet.”
Sy lig haar lang, swart rok effens op en begin dans. Haar lang tone vergesel haar van uit die venstertjies van haar sandale.
Uitasem kom sy dan tot stilstand…
Sy plons sommer in ‘n stoel neer, en sy dink aan die lys dingetjies wat sy nog moet afhandel en agter die rug kry - haar belasting moet ten volle betaal word voordat sy toegelaat sal word om die land permanent te verlaat, sy moet ook reëlings tref om haar bankrekening te sluit, en haar paar oorskiet meubels verkoop te kry…
Fanny het amper niks geslaap nie. Sy ontklee en bekyk haarself in die spieël, en dan spring sy sommer in haar bad.
Die oplossing van al haar probleme werk baie goed in haar guns: voordat sy daarvan bewus is, is haar klere en dose volgepak met haar kunswerke, en sy is op pad per taxi lughawe toe.
Gedurende haar laaste ure in Suid Afrika, flits ‘n paar onlangse hoogtepunte haar gedagtes deur: ‘n uitstappie met ‘n nuwe vriend na ‘n koffiekroeg: op pad het sy ‘n bekende dame ontmoet met haar babatjie in haar arms. Die babatjie het begin huil toe sy in Fanny se gesig vaskyk.
Kort daarna, het ‘n groep kinders wyd verby haar geloop, en hardop geterg: “Hekse loop in die buurt rond. Ons het netnou nog een gesien.”
Fanny het pikswart lang hare wat oor haar skouers val, en dit lyk altyd soos rotte se sterte.
‘n Ander ervaring, was ‘n onlangse besoek die stad in, met haar swart Volla: sy het vir die self-aangestelde parkeerbeampte geskreeu toe hy na haar motor aangestap kom. Hy het mos net verdwyn soos konfetti in die wind.
Sy het nou definitief besef dat sy beheer het oor mense, want hulle is so bang vir haar beplooide gesig.
By die lughawe, keer die sekuriteidsbeamptes haar toe sy verby die hek met die groen lig wou loop, terwyl sy haar vliegtuigkaartjie toon.
Haar bagasie en die kartonne met haar kunswerke word oopgemaak:
“En wat gaan hier aan, Ouma?”
“Dis mos my skilderye”, antwoord sy kort en bondig.
“Maar wat maak Ouma dan met naak fotos?”
“Dis ek!” antwoord sy onskuldig.
Nie een van die beamptes kan verstaan presies wat aangaan nie.
Almal staar en staan verstom…
Niks verder word bespreek nie.
Fanny klim die trappe op en neem haar sitplek in die vliegtuig in.
Veiligheidsmaatreëls word beduie en Fanny skrik so dat sy moet knyp!
Sy gil uit: “Dit lyk asof hulle gereed maak vir ‘n ongeluk. As ons in die see beland, kan ek glad nie swem nie.”
Vrye alkohol drankies word bedien.
Fanny spring in. Sy kap die een na die ander om alle lelike gedagtes uit haar kop te kry en ook om haar vrees te onderdruk.
Die enjins veroorsaak dat die vliegtuig begin bewe en dan begin dit te beweeg.
Na ‘n hel se lawaai, styg dit op…
Fanny voel snaaks: “Ek verloor my asem. Ek voel naar. Ek word al hoe meer benoud.”
Fanny probeer die venster oopmaak en let op dat daar geen handvatsel is nie.
Die lugwaardin spring in: “Oumatjie, daar’s lugreëling. Maak intussen die knope van jou rok bo oop, en maak die veiligheidsgordel vas, en kalmeer jouself asseblief ter wille van die ander passasiers.
Fanny kan nie meer stilsit nie en dring aan dat sy wil terug lughawe toe.
Die passasiers rondom haar probeer haar ook tot bedaring bring.
Die lugwaardin oorweeg dit om Oumatjie ‘n kalmerende inspuiting te gee!
Fanny begin uitskree dat sy dit nooit sal regkry om vir ure lank so ongemaklik te kan sit nie, veral omdat die man langs haar nou sy ou skoene uitgetrek het. Die reuk van sy voete is besig om haar heel duiselig te laat voel.
Haar vals tande het intussen uitgeval en op dié man se skoot beland.
Nou voel Fanny baie onrustig en senuweeagtig. Sy vra vir dié man of sy verby hom mag loop, sodat sy toilet toe kan gaan.
Tekens oral toon aan:
“ROOK VERBODE”
Fanny sluit die toilet deur en steek ‘n sigaret aan.
Die rook alarms begin te kere gaan om die lugwaardin te waarsku dat iemand in die toilet besig is om onwettig te rook. Sy ontbied die hulp van die vlieëniers. Hulle forseer die deur oop.
Fanny spring van die toilet af op.
“Meneer, wat jy nou doen is heeltemal onbeskof. Hoe durf jy aan die deur peuter terwyl ‘n dame die toilet beset.”
“Toilet beset en wil rook is ontoelaatbaar,” antwoord die vlieënier.
Fanny gaan nou te kere: “Ek het dit nooit in my lewe teëgekom dat ‘n man so optree nie. Meneer, ek sal dit nooit oorweeg om weer in my lewe te vlieg nie.
Fanny begin huil, en sy bewe van woede.
Van al die drank, word sy dan vaak en vir ure lank, bly sy rustig slaap.
Die lugwaardin maak haar wakker nadat die vliegtuig se deur oopgemaak is met die aankoms by San Francisco lughawe.
Fanny Koekemoer voel skielik dat haar lewe ‘n nuwe begin gekry het.
“Ek het gekom… Ek het gekom”, skree sy hardop, toe sy in Harry se arms inloop.
“Ma, mense wag vir die uitstalling van al jou kunswerke. Hier is ‘n groot aanvraag vir Ma se naak skilderye, en die Dollars sal maklik in jou skoot inrol. Dan kan jy saam met my elke naweek oor Golden Gate fiets ry, en ons sal dan ‘n lekker middagete in Sausalito geniet.”
“Ja”, antwoord Fanny, “ek het nuwe batterye vir my gehoorapparaat saamgebring. Ek moet hulle nog insit.”
Sy soen hom op altwee wange.
Sy hoef nooit weer haar familie te faks nie. Sy is mos nou vir ewig saam met hulle… veral met Harry, haar gunstelling seun.
Spectacular Sunset at Sea Point
By Raymond Chait
23 April 2002
At the touch of a button, I delight in bringing Beach Road traffic to a halt.
I then stride slowly and proudly across the Zebra Crossing near Winchester Mansions Hotel, whilst leering lingeringly at the cars’ stressed-out occupants.
They say “red sky by night, shepherd’s delight… red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.”
Not one of these cars’ angst-filled occupants saw the spectacular sunset at Sea-Point today.
It was the best sunset at Sea Point in the 50 consecutive ones God has graced me to have recently witnessed. That is why I want to share this particular superbly, splendidly-spectacular sunset at Sea Point with YOU:
Sit back, take a deep breath and relax, then sail away on my humble choice of words, as I string them together to give You a heavenly-idyllic experience:
The wind is a crisp exhilarating tingling tickle on Your soft skin. You feel it romantically nestle on Your cheeks as it pats past Your ears
The birds’ symphony is at its gloriously-heavenly zenith – a crescendo of congruent, calm chords cascading cumulatively in a colourful cocoon around You
.
The silver-white, soft, curdling, crunching crests follow the billowing swells: breakers augmenting the orchestra.
Distant kettle-drum breakers crash in perfect pitch. They then echo, severing the silent interludes of the birds’ song
.
The sea’s subtle colour-nuances blend: deep blues, greens, iron-greys… movements perfectly paced with nature’s wondrous symphony.
The sky is a pastel paintwork of red, orange, gold, yellow; and the sun a full, round, radiant red.
Behind You is an animated Lion’s Head, and Table Mountain is graced with a glorious halo - a bright rainbow, igniting these most-magnificent of Nature’s Masterpieces.
Few Cumulus Clouds are dauntingly grey-black. Tomorrow’s sky in the far west is a magic blue.
As the minutes slide away ineluctably, this subtle magic changes: punctuated moment for moment.
The new waxing moon cruises into the Eastern Sky, a solitary silent silhouette, draped by a charismatic shroud of silver-grey: she sails smoothly, softly. She unveils herself shyly, with her virginal innocence and candour, moment by moment.
The sun in the west sneaks away behind the horizon in the far sea’s distance, and the sky’s colours now meld magically into more pronounced and punctuated perfections of red, orange, yellow: the sun has said goodnight. He has already gone to sleep.
The birds’ song is suddenly softer now, because the sirens and the cars’ devil-drones have scared them away all-too-soon, clipping short this momentary, fleeting Revelation of God’s Inordinate Beauty.
We are insulting invaders of this unhurried, Pure Earth!
We’ve chased away this delicious splendour forever!
The traffic lights have turned green now, and these pressured people push away to the plastic comfort of their technologically-dictated lives.
Their sunsets are cigarette smoke and ashes.
I am pleasantly-tired: overwhelmed by this Awesome Omnipresence of God’s Provident Beauty.
It is my greatest pleasure to have shared it with You!
“Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning…
Red sky by night, shepherd’s delight…”
We’ll see…
3 Ladies for Tea
by Raymond Chait
16 March 2002
When men get together, they drink beer, they smoke, they talk sport, and then they end up fishing quietly… or they may even go out hunting together…
When women grow gregarious, they invariably chat, chat and chat… time’s ineluctability of no consequence to them in these aroused states, makes inscrutability our focal-point…
On Saturday, 3 eager ladies found a conversation-conducive niche, and collapsed into cool, comfortable couches, and… 1… 2… 3… zoomed off… each obviously lubricated her respective vocal chords beforehand, because they were bubbling, boiling, baking, baste-ing, broiling, burning… to go…
I risk admonishment and castigation and being tagged the prototype male chauvinistic pig, but fact remains fact, and Truth remains stranger than fiction…
Topic 1: Australia… the excitement of their impending trip together is electrically- palpable; their simultaneous energy-surges exuberantly animates the atmosphere: what footwear is the most comfortable, so the feet don’t swell or smell, medications, ointments and injections that need to be popped, rubbed or pricked before, during, and after the flight, what to pack into their suitcases for maybe, or just-in-case; and special shoes for much walking, in humble deference to their fitness-dreams.
Topic 2: The Perfect Potato Salad: the ideal potato salad grips the next half hour: ingredients juggle from olive oil to eggs. A heated debate ensues regarding the perfect temperature at which the cooked potatoes should be divested of their skins, and the optimum consistency of the final mixture, so as to achieve a perfect touch.
Topic 3: Illnesses: Scleroderma: What the heck is that?
Now we slip effortlessly into the role of charlatan-quacks. Scleroderma is a skin-condition which thickens the blood, and uncontrolled, can be very fatal.
The topic of our certain mortality quickly reaches a dead-end.
We then press on effortlessly with the subject of diets, of course, meaning fat-free, cholesterol-free, calories-free, including even the extreme precautionary measure of a Brita water-filter!
I now sit wondering if, besides their face-packs, these 3 ladies ever wear designer masks, so as to filter the air: this is most certainly the age of neuroses de luxe and phobias par excellance!
I can NOT resist, nor hold back, a blast of a hearty giggle, when I relive one lady speaking of her husband’s tooth-implant failures setting him back R100 000: it seems that for these crème-de-la-crème affluents, money is a drop in their ocean of prosperity.
Topic 4: Their Wealth: when they were just young girls, they conceded that jewellery was for older women. Now that they ARE older women, jewellery is for them!
They agreed that the best jewellery designer is Sheldon: reliable, dependable, and so-imaginatively-creative when he takes them out, each in turn, for tea!
They must have a ring for every finger… they admit that the Australian waiters know the South African women, all decked up like the proverbial, over-done Xmas Tree!
Topic 5: The Sipping: Rooibos Tea arrives. Oh, why is the water not boiling?…
And the 3 ladies summon Earl Grey in person, to lodge their complaints. They give a firm command for the waiter to fulfil their directive “on the double”!
“Please” and “Thank You” went out of fashion long ago for them!
The poor waiter breaks out into a sweat, trying to satisfy their very-desperate needs.
2 of the ladies share a scone, and keep coaxing the third “just to taste”, “just to taste”, “just to taste”.
After this nagging reaches an extreme, the wavering non-conformer finally relents reluctantly, and she daintily pops a crumb.
Topic 6: Boyfriends and the exchanging of telephone numbers: Sheldon has to meet Shelley… their personalities will gel, and they will be so happy together: wouldn’t it be nice to come back from Australia and walk into a wedding.
One lady’s cell-phone rings a nervously-metronomic classical noise. When she answers, with the typically-nasal “howzit”, all conversation comes to an abrupt halt…
Inscrutably, the 3 ladies look at me, as I can no longer stifle my fun.
They notice my floundering attempts, again, to read my short novel.
They all agree that they have no time for books: one wonders why!
The Boeing flew over at Twelve pronto, and each of these ladies had to run off to their respective lunch appointments.
Silence fell like a cosy blanket.
I finished my short novel - eventually - now that there was relative quiet, then captured on paper, for perpetuity, a rough draft of my special time with these special ladies.
(I must concede, also, the error of generalization!)
Especially for You, S H E P
by Raymond Chait
(circa 1975)
A man’s dog is an extension of himself
He projects into the mannerisms of his dog
Those attributes that he would have were he a dog
Communication is not verbal, but by vibes
And these, too, become part of the dog
And so, S H E P … the consolation for my being angry
An ever-present agility and lust for all that is good …
A willingness to obey that radiates from the remotest
Rivers in S H E P’s eyes …
An expression so happy that exudes from S H E P
Always happy, alert and nimble …
Such a temperate friend I’ll never have
I will surely fade if You do
Always there: never too busy to hear my sorrows
And never getting enough of his share of my happiness …
Who else in the world would spend a whole day waiting just for me ?
I know only You could do that …
Who else would respond to my call every time without fail ?
For this reason, S H E P, I feel so indebted to You …
What I do for You is comparable
To the smallest pebble at the bottom of a pond
For this reason, S H E P,
I write these words with my tears
For only Y O U !
A Moment Closer to God
by Raymond Chait
21 November 2002
A ll our efforts should be directed
M ainly to bringing happiness and peace
O nly having pure thoughts
M oving towards a goal of always pleasing Our Maker
E very day we should wake to
N otice His beauty all around Us
T aking time to be grateful for each moment that God graces us to partake of His
beautiful World
C uddle close to the Source of His Power:
L ive to Help Others
O ffer, above all, Your TIME
S o as to make the isolated ones feel less lonely
E ach of these Noble Deeds
R eveals to us more of God’s Glory
T ake TIME to be really Thankful
O ver and over again, without end
G et in touch with OUR MAKER
O nly Live For HIM…
D o everything for HIS GREATER GLORY
Lift
by Raymond Chait
(undated: early 1970’s)
Scissors open … close
Some enter … leave
Shut … up
1 … 2 … 3 …
Open … out … in …
Shut … down …
2 … 1 … G …
Numbered dots linked by wires hidden -
Confined by heaven and earth
Few planets in between
Magnificently-charged wire
Directs its victim
Whose day ends
With the approach of night.
Star in a New South Africa
By Raymond Chait
19 March 1996
One lonely heart beats in the middle of an endless, damp, cold night…
Peaceful sleep eludes my foetal, snuggling form - a disintegrating cardboard futon, my refuge.
An inexplicable surrender displaces my hurt, anger and feelings of worthlessness. Possessing nothing, frees me from this frenetic-paced world of selfish-materialism.
The birds sail the crisp morning breeze. A hint of the rising sun warms me to consciousness. The sensitivity of being, bossoms. My secret starts unfolding…
My wrinkled granny-fingers reach out to touch you. My name is Star. What’s yours?
The grass is wet and this place is haunted, but please listen to me for just one moment…
The cardboard sticks to my clothes. The muddy-puddle and the sand-pebbles scratch through to my skin, more so than the razor that Mpho gave to me…
I must tell you about Mpho… most people ignore me and treat me with contempt: he’s the only person in the whole world who sports a smile, and he has been blessed with the softest, kindest eyes… every time he passes this way, he gives me some bread and sometimes even a coin!
Yesterday, he left me with a book: Wilbur Smith’s “Eagle in the Sky”…
The bread feeds my body…
The coin may some day save my soul… and
The grace of reading may one day save my life…
And I’m proud to look you in the eyes, because at last, I’ve shaved… the first time in months… a new freshness overwhelms me after bathing in the cascading, cool waters, and with that, a second lease on life…
How long will this fantastic equanimity last?
I suppose that if I can snap one idyllic moment of happiness from life’s tree, I should gratefully nurture it like a seed and then stand back, and from a distance, watch it blossom bountifully…
Nature always intrigues me. It allows me to dreamily transcend into a time-capsule, thus enabling me to experience heavenly eternity…
Enter the time-warp…
These goats and I and no-one else. Won’t you, for just one moment, stop by and listen to their innocent beckoning?
Look at the transparent TRUTH in their distant unfocus.
Is it not wondrous?
We are safely-protected by the undulating hills, which unfold their magic mysticism magnificently.
I am just a little boy, yet I have an intuitive knowledge that some of us exude an inexplicable gift of synchronicity with nature and animals. This alienates us from other people. Perhaps it makes us seem eccentric!
I never want to grow up! I want to clasp onto this fleeting treasure-trove of my boyhood days…
The teacher pinches my ear. She makes me cognisant of the present - the mundane discipline of reading, writing and arithmetic. The confines of these walls triggers an urge to escape, if only in imagination…
When she turns her back, I steal away again into this amazing time-capsule, and in one fell swoop, I return to the hills and to the soft whispering of eternity…
A nightmare shakes me awake. The pain grips me again.
The knife that is going to cut off the edge of my manhood, lurks closer. Torturous days tear away my childhood mask and a shaved man comes forth… there’s a now-broken voice, plaintively-resigned, reiterating: “Why me?”
The city beckons me away from the pains of life: maybe money, music and women will bring to me the peace I so-desperately crave.
I now ride the “blue train” - it takes me backwards and forwards and allows me to remember and then to dream…
It transports me to a world where I can cope by escaping.
NO! NO! NO!
I must grope onto the vestiges of my reality…
I want to read Wilbur Smith when the sun rises just now…
I’ll read until the sun sets…
You probably know my secret by now!
I am forever grateful to Mpho, who saved my life!
I live to be an author, so that I can write about the charms of Africa, where there is never a need to escape, because the reality is so beautiful!
If you pass this way at the close of day, you will perhaps meet me again, but this time I will be smiling into the sunset…
Then I’ll creep into the bushes and spread out my carton futon and put my head down to rest…
And then I’ll awaken with an exuberant excitement!
I am now at one with eternity and the night is oh, so beautiful… so truly beautiful…
“B.B.”
by Raymond Chait
9 June 1996
The sun thaws this gaunt apparition sitting on the bench…
Ripples in the lake cast my moving shadow.
Oh! How frightening a caricature it is!
Yesterday’s news is the wrapper of this Best Blend tobacco.
Gently, I stop more of this stuff into the long newspaper tunnel - time eludes me.
Most people circling Rhodes’ Park either ignore me or are so enamoured with their own importance, that they don’t see me.
The day grows cuddlier and cosier, and the solar warmth stirs my sole, tired soul.
The pulsing rhythms of life make me acutely-aware of the birds’ symphony and the ducks’ quack-song and their pecking-order punctiliousness.
The wind rustling through the trees tickles my ears, and whispers its secrets of eternity…
And in the distance , I notice 3 forms approaching - bubbling with conversation and bursting with enthusiasm.
Before they pass me, they actually recognise me as a person - they give me an identity. They pause and greet me… is this really True?
I can hardly believe my luck - I get offered a cigarette - is this a gift from the gods?
I’ll never forget this moment, which is incurably and indelibly etched in my mind until my final heart-beat… someone spoke to me on this lonely, lost Sunday!
Somebody actually stopped and noticed me!
This gives me reason to want to live again!
I inhale every puff, successfully transcending time - backwards and forwards and I pluck the memories I choose to relive.
I blow them back to reality with the smoke-rings, which dissipate in the distance.
Memory is the priceless gift I carry around with me wherever I go.
But only at idyllic moments like this, can I flick from it a multiplicity of beautiful and colourful flashes of my life.
It’s as if it now ceases being stifled, and with vitality, blossoms back my long-lost happiness!
THE ALPHABET OF MOTIVATION
by Raymond Chait
30 August 1992
Abraham Maslow’s theory on Motivation states that human needs must be satisfied.
Frederick Herzberg’s theory on Motivation argues that manipulating the elements that cause dissatisfaction (Hygiene Factors) cannot significantly increase satisfaction, although it may decrease dissatisfaction. Only by increasing the Motivators, may satisfaction be increased.
James March and Herbert Simon offer a dynamic model of behaviour with satisfaction being viewed as a balance between input from Expected Value of reward and levels of aspiration.
Lyman Porter and Edward Lawler show a more direct relationship between performance and satisfaction, with the prediction that performance leads to satisfaction.
Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet, explains life’s learning processes as those which elevate us beyond the threshold of our existing knowledge.
Vincent van Gogh awakens in us a desire to savour and enjoy a multiplicity of experiences: “To know life is to love many things.”
Friend Rowan M.S. advises us that if you can do something, leave it and try something else.
Let us now be daring and share an eclectic view, which we will integrate from empirical experiences only…
Motivation springs from an aroused desire to improve and move forward along life’s compulsory course.
We cannot elect to remain static…
We stand to lose our competitive edge if we are not constantly enthused to improve on our existing framework of knowledge.
The penalty is that we will fall behind and remain like Mr. Hermit, on our lonesome!
There are 5 groups of people: those who wait, those who wander, those who wonder, those who watch, and those who make things happen. Which group do we want to slot into?
Life is tough.
We are forced to take on the whole journey, so we will make the most of it, absorbing all the scenery along the way…
The A to Z of Motivation:
A…. ACTIVATE DORMANT POTENTIAL:
Assess our strengths, and turn our weaknesses into opportunities, by working on them.
B… BALANCE OUR MINDS, BODIES AND SOULS:
Move these three inextricably-linked components harmoniously and simultaneously forward. Plug any leaks that drain energy, so that we blend these three in order to excel. We will feel lively and almost ethereal, as we find ourselves soaring to greater heights.
C… CREATE CHALLENGES:
We must cultivate curiosity, channeling all our energies in a positive direction. How can we then ever be bored or passive, if activity sparks our guiding light?
D… DO:
Doing is the thing. Never procrastinate. There is only NOW. Yesterday is a memory and tomorrow is a dream away. Each moment lost, is lost forever. Let us begin our work now, and view it as a learning exercise. Physical work is an exercise to improve the body. Studying is exercise for the mind. We are always in need of spiritual upliftment too.
E… EVALUATE OUR PRIORITIES:
Extra effort is essential to programme each day…
Organise the minute to organise the hour to organise the day to organise our lives. Planning ahead is healthy, as it gives us previews, so that we can behave proactively and avert the potholes along life’s road.
F… FUSSING AND FAFFING ARE OUT…
Get on with it! A busy person gets things done. Put on a horse’s blinkers and move through the mire, behaving as if we enjoy mud-baths as a cleansing experience!
G… GO FOR BULL!
Set ourselves short-term sub-goals, which egg us on to long-term greater goals.
H… HOLD ON TENACIOUSLY:
Never give up, otherwise we will be stranded along the wayside. We are resolved to go all the way. Celebrating our achievements is the greatest glory. Having run our motivation-marathon, we will relax in a warm, all-consuming bath and reminisce in silence.
I… I is our EGOS:
Feed them furiously and become the best our potential allows. Iteratively, by taking one step at a time, learning from our own mistakes. We should view mistakes as stepping-stones to climb to the top of our beautiful mountain… the crest of the quest of our achievements. One step at a time gets us to the summit - sum that up! This is our optimised motivation strategy, indelibly etched in our minds.
J… JUMP TO IT:
Idling time is wasted energy. Say little and do much. The momentum of motivated energy feeds on itself.
K… KINDLE THE CANDLE:
Let us become fires of kinetic energy. In this way, the going gets good and the good gets going. Motivation, like the run-away fire, feeds on itself.
L… LOOK :
Most importantly, we should teach ourselves to see and to remember. If we are motivated, our sponge of enthusiasm soaks up with boundless energy - voraciously and tenaciously!
M… MOTIVATION MOVES MOUNTAINS MOST MAGNIFICENTLY, MAKING MANY MUNDANE MEMORIES MAGIC MOMENTS. (Especially for Mervyn)
N… NOW… NOW… NOW:
Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a dream. So move to motivation now. Seize the moment, living a splendid life, as if it may end at midnight!
O… OPEN DOORS OF ADVENTURE:
Move in and change the dark unknown to idyllic light. Organise our time optimally.
P… PRIDE CAN BETRAY US:
Rudyard Kipling in his poem “If”, advises us never to look too good… our motivation should be aimed to uplift ourselves, so as to uplift others. Our purpose in life should be to make this world a better place for all.
Q… QUICKLY:
Motivate ourselves to get going now. We should prepare our world so that it is always full and meaningful.
R… RESTRUCTURE OUR MINDS:
This is how we should optimally utilise times of quiet so as to move forward meticulously in order to realise our goals… undaunted and unhindered.
S… SEE SET-BACKS AS STEPPING-STONES:
What does not break us, makes us stronger.
T… TEA-STOPS ARE HEALTHY:
We should use these times as periods which enable us to think positively about how to channel our energies in positive directions.
U… YOU AND I GAIN BENEFITS FOR OURSELVES BY BECOMING INDEPENDENT:
This motivation-technique enables us to thrive and attain freedom.
V… VICTORY:
This is the goal of motivation in action.
W… WELL DONE:
101 %.
X… EXCELLENT:
On target.
Y… WHY MOTIVATION:
So that we can become better and more productive people.
Z… ZEST IS ENERGY FOR MOTIVATION…
Zoom forward to greatest heights.
My fervent hope is for us to reread this piece of writing from time to time and use it as a secret Motivation-key to help us to move forward to our goal of getting the most colourful picture…
LIFE-TIMES OF MOTIVATION…
FULL LIVES!
Fanny Koekemoer faks haar familie
deur Raymond Chait
22 Augustus 2001
“Ek kom, ek kom” skree sy in die telefoon se mondstuk.
Dis middernag. Skielik soos blits, is daar ‘n hemelvol liggies in die ou gebou.
Van die slaap is almal wakker geraas deur Fanny se harde stem wat dreun deur die gebou soos ‘n aardbewing.
Buurvrouens gekleed in nagrokke, en mans met lelike ou pantoffels, klop hard aan Fanny se deur.
“Wag eers! Ek moet my gehoorapparaat bykom”, skree sy terwyl sy oor die volgepakte dose spring, nes ‘n springkaan.
Al haar batterye is nou pap. Dit beteken dat haar gehoorapparaat buite werking is.
Die buurmense se woede is tasbaar, en die enigste rede wat ‘n oorlog nou kan keer, is die feit dat Fanny oor die tagtig jaar is.
Dis nie die eerste keer dat sy die hele gebou in so ‘n mate wakker geraas het nie.
Dit gebeur elke keer dat sy geselskap oor die telefoon probeer voer.
Fanny het geen ander uitweg as om haar familie te faks nie.
Fanny is al jare lank gestrem met die swak sintuig van haar gehoor, maar dit pla haar glad nie - net wanneer sy haar seun in San Francisco bel.
Hy is nou raadop, want oproepe is duur, en Fanny verstaan niks van die geselskap nie.
Die buurmense word met sulke geskreeu elke keer uit hul slaap gesteur.
Hoekom bel Fanny haar seun Harry middernag, is eintlik omdat daar ‘n tydsverskil tussen die twee vastelande is: Suid Afrika en die Vereenigde State van Amerika.
Maar diè ding gaan binne die volgende paar dae tot ‘n einde kom, want Fanny is alreeds gereed en op pad na haar seun vir die res van haar lewe.
“Ek is jammer. Ek vra weer verskoning, maar ek word so senuweeagtig wanneer ek met my seun praat, sonder om bewus te wees hiervan, begin ek so te skreeu. Ek hoor dit nie eens nie.
Fanny bekyk haarself in die spieël en begin huil: jare terug, toe sy kunstenaar geword het, was haar liggaam so uiters mooi dat sy haarself naak begin skilder het - nou skrik sy vir haar eie weerkaatsing en weier om verder moeite te maak om haarself naak te skilder.
“Hoekom tas tyd ‘n mens so lelik aan, soos ‘n siekte wat die liggaam verteer?” vra sy.
Sy loop nou gebukkend. Sy let op, ook , dat haar ore en neus lelik begin vergroot het. Die natuur kry sy versadiging en plesier om die mens so afskuwelik te verander, met die verloop van die jare.
Sy glimlag: “Ek gaan dit mos probeer keer met die gebruik van al hoe meer grimering”.
Sy lag nou vir haarself, terwyl sy ‘n traan wegpink met ‘n sneesdoekie: “My Skepper wil nie hê dat ek myself bejammer nie. Hy wil gedurig ‘n glimlag sien op my gesig, kom wat wil.”
Sy verstel haar vals tande, en glimlag weer, maar dié keer glimlag sy breed…
Oor ‘n dag of so, omhels sy haar seun.
“Jaaaaaaa… ” sing sy dit uit, soos ‘n merrie wat runnik en verbeel haar hy staan alreeds voor haar. Ek gaan die mense in sy buurt leer hoe om die lewe weer ten volle te kan geniet.”
Sy lig haar lang, swart rok effens op en begin dans. Haar lang tone vergesel haar van uit die venstertjies van haar sandale.
Uitasem kom sy dan tot stilstand…
Sy plons sommer in ‘n stoel neer, en sy dink aan die lys dingetjies wat sy nog moet afhandel en agter die rug kry - haar belasting moet ten volle betaal word voordat sy toegelaat sal word om die land permanent te verlaat, sy moet ook reëlings tref om haar bankrekening te sluit, en haar paar oorskiet meubels verkoop te kry…
Fanny het amper niks geslaap nie. Sy ontklee en bekyk haarself in die spieël, en dan spring sy sommer in haar bad.
Die oplossing van al haar probleme werk baie goed in haar guns: voordat sy daarvan bewus is, is haar klere en dose volgepak met haar kunswerke, en sy is op pad per taxi lughawe toe.
Gedurende haar laaste ure in Suid Afrika, flits ‘n paar onlangse hoogtepunte haar gedagtes deur: ‘n uitstappie met ‘n nuwe vriend na ‘n koffiekroeg: op pad het sy ‘n bekende dame ontmoet met haar babatjie in haar arms. Die babatjie het begin huil toe sy in Fanny se gesig vaskyk.
Kort daarna, het ‘n groep kinders wyd verby haar geloop, en hardop geterg: “Hekse loop in die buurt rond. Ons het netnou nog een gesien.”
Fanny het pikswart lang hare wat oor haar skouers val, en dit lyk altyd soos rotte se sterte.
‘n Ander ervaring, was ‘n onlangse besoek die stad in, met haar swart Volla: sy het vir die self-aangestelde parkeerbeampte geskreeu toe hy na haar motor aangestap kom. Hy het mos net verdwyn soos konfetti in die wind.
Sy het nou definitief besef dat sy beheer het oor mense, want hulle is so bang vir haar beplooide gesig.
By die lughawe, keer die sekuriteidsbeamptes haar toe sy verby die hek met die groen lig wou loop, terwyl sy haar vliegtuigkaartjie toon.
Haar bagasie en die kartonne met haar kunswerke word oopgemaak:
“En wat gaan hier aan, Ouma?”
“Dis mos my skilderye”, antwoord sy kort en bondig.
“Maar wat maak Ouma dan met naak fotos?”
“Dis ek!” antwoord sy onskuldig.
Nie een van die beamptes kan verstaan presies wat aangaan nie.
Almal staar en staan verstom…
Niks verder word bespreek nie.
Fanny klim die trappe op en neem haar sitplek in die vliegtuig in.
Veiligheidsmaatreëls word beduie en Fanny skrik so dat sy moet knyp!
Sy gil uit: “Dit lyk asof hulle gereed maak vir ‘n ongeluk. As ons in die see beland, kan ek glad nie swem nie.”
Vrye alkohol drankies word bedien.
Fanny spring in. Sy kap die een na die ander om alle lelike gedagtes uit haar kop te kry en ook om haar vrees te onderdruk.
Die enjins veroorsaak dat die vliegtuig begin bewe en dan begin dit te beweeg.
Na ‘n hel se lawaai, styg dit op…
Fanny voel snaaks: “Ek verloor my asem. Ek voel naar. Ek word al hoe meer benoud.”
Fanny probeer die venster oopmaak en let op dat daar geen handvatsel is nie.
Die lugwaardin spring in: “Oumatjie, daar’s lugreëling. Maak intussen die knope van jou rok bo oop, en maak die veiligheidsgordel vas, en kalmeer jouself asseblief ter wille van die ander passasiers.
Fanny kan nie meer stilsit nie en dring aan dat sy wil terug lughawe toe.
Die passasiers rondom haar probeer haar ook tot bedaring bring.
Die lugwaardin oorweeg dit om Oumatjie ‘n kalmerende inspuiting te gee!
Fanny begin uitskree dat sy dit nooit sal regkry om vir ure lank so ongemaklik te kan sit nie, veral omdat die man langs haar nou sy ou skoene uitgetrek het. Die reuk van sy voete is besig om haar heel duiselig te laat voel.
Haar vals tande het intussen uitgeval en op dié man se skoot beland.
Nou voel Fanny baie onrustig en senuweeagtig. Sy vra vir dié man of sy verby hom mag loop, sodat sy toilet toe kan gaan.
Tekens oral toon aan:
“ROOK VERBODE”
Fanny sluit die toilet deur en steek ‘n sigaret aan.
Die rook alarms begin te kere gaan om die lugwaardin te waarsku dat iemand in die toilet besig is om onwettig te rook. Sy ontbied die hulp van die vlieëniers. Hulle forseer die deur oop.
Fanny spring van die toilet af op.
“Meneer, wat jy nou doen is heeltemal onbeskof. Hoe durf jy aan die deur peuter terwyl ‘n dame die toilet beset.”
“Toilet beset en wil rook is ontoelaatbaar,” antwoord die vlieënier.
Fanny gaan nou te kere: “Ek het dit nooit in my lewe teëgekom dat ‘n man so optree nie. Meneer, ek sal dit nooit oorweeg om weer in my lewe te vlieg nie.
Fanny begin huil, en sy bewe van woede.
Van al die drank, word sy dan vaak en vir ure lank, bly sy rustig slaap.
Die lugwaardin maak haar wakker nadat die vliegtuig se deur oopgemaak is met die aankoms by San Francisco lughawe.
Fanny Koekemoer voel skielik dat haar lewe ‘n nuwe begin gekry het.
“Ek het gekom… Ek het gekom”, skree sy hardop, toe sy in Harry se arms inloop.
“Ma, mense wag vir die uitstalling van al jou kunswerke. Hier is ‘n groot aanvraag vir Ma se naak skilderye, en die Dollars sal maklik in jou skoot inrol. Dan kan jy saam met my elke naweek oor Golden Gate fiets ry, en ons sal dan ‘n lekker middagete in Sausalito geniet.”
“Ja”, antwoord Fanny, “ek het nuwe batterye vir my gehoorapparaat saamgebring. Ek moet hulle nog insit.”
Sy soen hom op altwee wange.
Sy hoef nooit weer haar familie te faks nie. Sy is mos nou vir ewig saam met hulle… veral met Harry, haar gunstelling seun.
Spectacular Sunset at Sea Point
By Raymond Chait
23 April 2002
At the touch of a button, I delight in bringing Beach Road traffic to a halt.
I then stride slowly and proudly across the Zebra Crossing near Winchester Mansions Hotel, whilst leering lingeringly at the cars’ stressed-out occupants.
They say “red sky by night, shepherd’s delight… red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.”
Not one of these cars’ angst-filled occupants saw the spectacular sunset at Sea-Point today.
It was the best sunset at Sea Point in the 50 consecutive ones God has graced me to have recently witnessed. That is why I want to share this particular superbly, splendidly-spectacular sunset at Sea Point with YOU:
Sit back, take a deep breath and relax, then sail away on my humble choice of words, as I string them together to give You a heavenly-idyllic experience:
The wind is a crisp exhilarating tingling tickle on Your soft skin. You feel it romantically nestle on Your cheeks as it pats past Your ears
The birds’ symphony is at its gloriously-heavenly zenith – a crescendo of congruent, calm chords cascading cumulatively in a colourful cocoon around You
.
The silver-white, soft, curdling, crunching crests follow the billowing swells: breakers augmenting the orchestra.
Distant kettle-drum breakers crash in perfect pitch. They then echo, severing the silent interludes of the birds’ song
.
The sea’s subtle colour-nuances blend: deep blues, greens, iron-greys… movements perfectly paced with nature’s wondrous symphony.
The sky is a pastel paintwork of red, orange, gold, yellow; and the sun a full, round, radiant red.
Behind You is an animated Lion’s Head, and Table Mountain is graced with a glorious halo - a bright rainbow, igniting these most-magnificent of Nature’s Masterpieces.
Few Cumulus Clouds are dauntingly grey-black. Tomorrow’s sky in the far west is a magic blue.
As the minutes slide away ineluctably, this subtle magic changes: punctuated moment for moment.
The new waxing moon cruises into the Eastern Sky, a solitary silent silhouette, draped by a charismatic shroud of silver-grey: she sails smoothly, softly. She unveils herself shyly, with her virginal innocence and candour, moment by moment.
The sun in the west sneaks away behind the horizon in the far sea’s distance, and the sky’s colours now meld magically into more pronounced and punctuated perfections of red, orange, yellow: the sun has said goodnight. He has already gone to sleep.
The birds’ song is suddenly softer now, because the sirens and the cars’ devil-drones have scared them away all-too-soon, clipping short this momentary, fleeting Revelation of God’s Inordinate Beauty.
We are insulting invaders of this unhurried, Pure Earth!
We’ve chased away this delicious splendour forever!
The traffic lights have turned green now, and these pressured people push away to the plastic comfort of their technologically-dictated lives.
Their sunsets are cigarette smoke and ashes.
I am pleasantly-tired: overwhelmed by this Awesome Omnipresence of God’s Provident Beauty.
It is my greatest pleasure to have shared it with You!
“Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning…
Red sky by night, shepherd’s delight…”
We’ll see…
3 Ladies for Tea
by Raymond Chait
16 March 2002
When men get together, they drink beer, they smoke, they talk sport, and then they end up fishing quietly… or they may even go out hunting together…
When women grow gregarious, they invariably chat, chat and chat… time’s ineluctability of no consequence to them in these aroused states, makes inscrutability our focal-point…
On Saturday, 3 eager ladies found a conversation-conducive niche, and collapsed into cool, comfortable couches, and… 1… 2… 3… zoomed off… each obviously lubricated her respective vocal chords beforehand, because they were bubbling, boiling, baking, baste-ing, broiling, burning… to go…
I risk admonishment and castigation and being tagged the prototype male chauvinistic pig, but fact remains fact, and Truth remains stranger than fiction…
Topic 1: Australia… the excitement of their impending trip together is electrically- palpable; their simultaneous energy-surges exuberantly animates the atmosphere: what footwear is the most comfortable, so the feet don’t swell or smell, medications, ointments and injections that need to be popped, rubbed or pricked before, during, and after the flight, what to pack into their suitcases for maybe, or just-in-case; and special shoes for much walking, in humble deference to their fitness-dreams.
Topic 2: The Perfect Potato Salad: the ideal potato salad grips the next half hour: ingredients juggle from olive oil to eggs. A heated debate ensues regarding the perfect temperature at which the cooked potatoes should be divested of their skins, and the optimum consistency of the final mixture, so as to achieve a perfect touch.
Topic 3: Illnesses: Scleroderma: What the heck is that?
Now we slip effortlessly into the role of charlatan-quacks. Scleroderma is a skin-condition which thickens the blood, and uncontrolled, can be very fatal.
The topic of our certain mortality quickly reaches a dead-end.
We then press on effortlessly with the subject of diets, of course, meaning fat-free, cholesterol-free, calories-free, including even the extreme precautionary measure of a Brita water-filter!
I now sit wondering if, besides their face-packs, these 3 ladies ever wear designer masks, so as to filter the air: this is most certainly the age of neuroses de luxe and phobias par excellance!
I can NOT resist, nor hold back, a blast of a hearty giggle, when I relive one lady speaking of her husband’s tooth-implant failures setting him back R100 000: it seems that for these crème-de-la-crème affluents, money is a drop in their ocean of prosperity.
Topic 4: Their Wealth: when they were just young girls, they conceded that jewellery was for older women. Now that they ARE older women, jewellery is for them!
They agreed that the best jewellery designer is Sheldon: reliable, dependable, and so-imaginatively-creative when he takes them out, each in turn, for tea!
They must have a ring for every finger… they admit that the Australian waiters know the South African women, all decked up like the proverbial, over-done Xmas Tree!
Topic 5: The Sipping: Rooibos Tea arrives. Oh, why is the water not boiling?…
And the 3 ladies summon Earl Grey in person, to lodge their complaints. They give a firm command for the waiter to fulfil their directive “on the double”!
“Please” and “Thank You” went out of fashion long ago for them!
The poor waiter breaks out into a sweat, trying to satisfy their very-desperate needs.
2 of the ladies share a scone, and keep coaxing the third “just to taste”, “just to taste”, “just to taste”.
After this nagging reaches an extreme, the wavering non-conformer finally relents reluctantly, and she daintily pops a crumb.
Topic 6: Boyfriends and the exchanging of telephone numbers: Sheldon has to meet Shelley… their personalities will gel, and they will be so happy together: wouldn’t it be nice to come back from Australia and walk into a wedding.
One lady’s cell-phone rings a nervously-metronomic classical noise. When she answers, with the typically-nasal “howzit”, all conversation comes to an abrupt halt…
Inscrutably, the 3 ladies look at me, as I can no longer stifle my fun.
They notice my floundering attempts, again, to read my short novel.
They all agree that they have no time for books: one wonders why!
The Boeing flew over at Twelve pronto, and each of these ladies had to run off to their respective lunch appointments.
Silence fell like a cosy blanket.
I finished my short novel - eventually - now that there was relative quiet, then captured on paper, for perpetuity, a rough draft of my special time with these special ladies.
(I must concede, also, the error of generalization!)
THE ALPHABET OF MOTIVATION
by Raymond Chait
30 August 1992
Abraham Maslow’s theory on Motivation states that human needs must be satisfied.
Frederick Herzberg’s theory on Motivation argues that manipulating the elements that cause dissatisfaction (Hygiene Factors) cannot significantly increase satisfaction, although it may decrease dissatisfaction. Only by increasing the Motivators, may satisfaction be increased.
James March and Herbert Simon offer a dynamic model of behaviour with satisfaction being viewed as a balance between input from Expected Value of reward and levels of aspiration.
Lyman Porter and Edward Lawler show a more direct relationship between performance and satisfaction, with the prediction that performance leads to satisfaction.
Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet, explains life’s learning processes as those which elevate us beyond the threshold of our existing knowledge.
Vincent van Gogh awakens in us a desire to savour and enjoy a multiplicity of experiences: “To know life is to love many things.”
Friend Rowan M.S. advises us that if you can do something, leave it and try something else.
Let us now be daring and share an eclectic view, which we will integrate from empirical experiences only…
Motivation springs from an aroused desire to improve and move forward along life’s compulsory course.
We cannot elect to remain static…
We stand to lose our competitive edge if we are not constantly enthused to improve on our existing framework of knowledge.
The penalty is that we will fall behind and remain like Mr. Hermit, on our lonesome!
There are 5 groups of people: those who wait, those who wander, those who wonder, those who watch, and those who make things happen. Which group do we want to slot into?
Life is tough.
We are forced to take on the whole journey, so we will make the most of it, absorbing all the scenery along the way…
The A to Z of Motivation:
A…. ACTIVATE DORMANT POTENTIAL:
Assess our strengths, and turn our weaknesses into opportunities, by working on them.
B… BALANCE OUR MINDS, BODIES AND SOULS:
Move these three inextricably-linked components harmoniously and simultaneously forward. Plug any leaks that drain energy, so that we blend these three in order to excel. We will feel lively and almost ethereal, as we find ourselves soaring to greater heights.
C… CREATE CHALLENGES:
We must cultivate curiosity, channeling all our energies in a positive direction. How can we then ever be bored or passive, if activity sparks our guiding light?
D… DO:
Doing is the thing. Never procrastinate. There is only NOW. Yesterday is a memory and tomorrow is a dream away. Each moment lost, is lost forever. Let us begin our work now, and view it as a learning exercise. Physical work is an exercise to improve the body. Studying is exercise for the mind. We are always in need of spiritual upliftment too.
E… EVALUATE OUR PRIORITIES:
Extra effort is essential to programme each day…
Organise the minute to organise the hour to organise the day to organise our lives. Planning ahead is healthy, as it gives us previews, so that we can behave proactively and avert the potholes along life’s road.
F… FUSSING AND FAFFING ARE OUT…
Get on with it! A busy person gets things done. Put on a horse’s blinkers and move through the mire, behaving as if we enjoy mud-baths as a cleansing experience!
G… GO FOR BULL!
Set ourselves short-term sub-goals, which egg us on to long-term greater goals.
H… HOLD ON TENACIOUSLY:
Never give up, otherwise we will be stranded along the wayside. We are resolved to go all the way. Celebrating our achievements is the greatest glory. Having run our motivation-marathon, we will relax in a warm, all-consuming bath and reminisce in silence.
I… I is our EGOS:
Feed them furiously and become the best our potential allows. Iteratively, by taking one step at a time, learning from our own mistakes. We should view mistakes as stepping-stones to climb to the top of our beautiful mountain… the crest of the quest of our achievements. One step at a time gets us to the summit - sum that up! This is our optimised motivation strategy, indelibly etched in our minds.
J… JUMP TO IT:
Idling time is wasted energy. Say little and do much. The momentum of motivated energy feeds on itself.
K… KINDLE THE CANDLE:
Let us become fires of kinetic energy. In this way, the going gets good and the good gets going. Motivation, like the run-away fire, feeds on itself.
L… LOOK :
Most importantly, we should teach ourselves to see and to remember. If we are motivated, our sponge of enthusiasm soaks up with boundless energy - voraciously and tenaciously!
M… MOTIVATION MOVES MOUNTAINS MOST MAGNIFICENTLY, MAKING MANY MUNDANE MEMORIES MAGIC MOMENTS. (Especially for Mervyn)
N… NOW… NOW… NOW:
Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a dream. So move to motivation now. Seize the moment, living a splendid life, as if it may end at midnight!
O… OPEN DOORS OF ADVENTURE:
Move in and change the dark unknown to idyllic light. Organise our time optimally.
P… PRIDE CAN BETRAY US:
Rudyard Kipling in his poem “If”, advises us never to look too good… our motivation should be aimed to uplift ourselves, so as to uplift others. Our purpose in life should be to make this world a better place for all.
Q… QUICKLY:
Motivate ourselves to get going now. We should prepare our world so that it is always full and meaningful.
R… RESTRUCTURE OUR MINDS:
This is how we should optimally utilise times of quiet so as to move forward meticulously in order to realise our goals… undaunted and unhindered.
S… SEE SET-BACKS AS STEPPING-STONES:
What does not break us, makes us stronger.
T… TEA-STOPS ARE HEALTHY:
We should use these times as periods which enable us to think positively about how to channel our energies in positive directions.
U… YOU AND I GAIN BENEFITS FOR OURSELVES BY BECOMING INDEPENDENT:
This motivation-technique enables us to thrive and attain freedom.
V… VICTORY:
This is the goal of motivation in action.
W… WELL DONE:
101 %.
X… EXCELLENT:
On target.
Y… WHY MOTIVATION:
So that we can become better and more productive people.
Z… ZEST IS ENERGY FOR MOTIVATION…
Zoom forward to greatest heights.
My fervent hope is for us to reread this piece of writing from time to time and use it as a secret Motivation-key to help us to move forward to our goal of getting the most colourful picture…
LIFE-TIMES OF MOTIVATION…
FULL LIVES!
Especially for You, S H E P
by Raymond Chait
(circa 1975)
A man’s dog is an extension of himself
He projects into the mannerisms of his dog
Those attributes that he would have were he a dog
Communication is not verbal, but by vibes
And these, too, become part of the dog
And so, S H E P … the consolation for my being angry
An ever-present agility and lust for all that is good …
A willingness to obey that radiates from the remotest
Rivers in S H E P’s eyes …
An expression so happy that exudes from S H E P
Always happy, alert and nimble …
Such a temperate friend I’ll never have
I will surely fade if You do
Always there: never too busy to hear my sorrows
And never getting enough of his share of my happiness …
Who else in the world would spend a whole day waiting just for me ?
I know only You could do that …
Who else would respond to my call every time without fail ?
For this reason, S H E P, I feel so indebted to You …
What I do for You is comparable
To the smallest pebble at the bottom of a pond
For this reason, S H E P,
I write these words with my tears
For only Y O U !