En Passant: That was the week that was

I DUNNO, it was a funny old week, wasn’t it? The old saying, “May you live in interesting times”, seems to more appropriate than ever now. I’ve always believed that the saying is Chinese in origin, “May you live in interesting times” being an understated curse. Apparently that’s not entirely true.

There ain’t no Chinese reference source (not even soy sauce) that supports the saying’s origin as being Chinese, but I tend to think that it probably is. There are enough English sources from the 1930s (although not Worcester sauce) to support the Chinese theory.

So yes, we are living in interesting times, especially if you happen to be an Australian surfer paddling out on the back-line at Jeffrey’s Bay on Sunday. He was knocked off his surfboard by a great white shark, and it’s a toss-up as to who was the more surprised, the Aussie who ended up in the sea or the shark who got a punch for its troubles. Neither was hurt except for their prides.

Then, lets see, what else? Well our esteemed President went in to hospital on Saturday to have gall stones removed. Whether he will have less gall in the future as a result of the operation is yet to be seen.

The condition was picked up during a routine investigation that the President underwent. Presumably then, he did not suffer the symptoms of gallbladder complications which include a belly ache, pain in the vicinity of the right shoulder blade, pain (dull, sharp or crampy) that is exacerbated by fatty foods, or when you breath in deeply, or in the President’s case pain that is triggered by the word “Nkandla”.

What else?

Well, we got beaten by Australia in Saturday’s rugby match, so perhaps the less said about that the better. I do not know one person, not one, who fully agrees with Heyneke Meyer’s selection of players. Not one. Does that mean my friends know more about rugby that the Springbok coach? They think so.

Then, hands up anyone who believes the spin doctors at PRASA (the Passenger Rail Agency of South Africa) when they say that the new locomotives, ordered at great expense from Spain, are exactly the right size? Go on, put your hands up so that you can be identified for future admission to Fort Napier.

If you have just returned from Outer Mongolia and haven’t heard about this, the story, briefly, is that PRASA agreed to buy these locomotives in a deal worth R3.5 billion even though they had been told that the units were not suited for our existing rail infrastructure. Basically, the locomotives were too tall for their intended routes.

Of course, PRASA said, “Nonsense!” But there ain’t no smoke without fire, is there?

What else?

Well, an ad hoc committee from Parliament is going to visit the President’s home in Nkandla to see for themselves what it’s all about, but don’t hold your breath if you expect the President to subsequently reach into his pocket for his cheque book to pay back the money. I had to look up what ad hoc actually meant, and discovered it literally means in Latin “to this”, and in this context “for a particular purpose only”. The media have been excluded from the tour.

Oh yes, and if you happen to be a Cuban (or an American, come to that) you might be intrigued to know that diplomatic relations were restored on Monday between the two countries. These relations were severed in 1961 during the Cold War. They were frosty for over half a century. You couldn’t even get a Cuban cigar in America, or at least not legally.

I’ll tell you something I think about this which I haven’t seen mentioned elsewhere. I remember at Nelson Mandela’s memorial service back in December 2013, President Barack Obama was making his way to the podium to deliver his speech, and had to pass President Raul Castro. Obama paused and shook Castro’s hand. It was a gesture, a huge gesture, worthy of the occasion which was to honour Nelson Mandela. Perhaps it was the beginning of the US/Cuba Cold War thaw.

And then I was told over the weekend and on Monday that I was missing or had missed a scoop worthy of the international paparazzi. Apparently Prince Harry, the brother of William, the Duke of Cambridge, and second son of ol’ Big Ears, Prince Charles, was at Ithala Game Reserve.

My first instinct of course, was to jump into Henry Ford, my old Cortina bakkie, and head for the wilds of Louwsburg and beyond, with a long lens, a packet of sarmies and a flask of tea. I would find a suitable tree, from the heights of which I could snap young Harry doing what princes do in game reserves, or better still, picking his nose, and sell the pictures to a gossip-hungry British tabloid for a small fortune.

This fortune being paid in pounds sterling, and the exchange rate currently being R19.33 per pound, would when converted keep me in a manner to which I could easily become accustomed.

But then I though, Stuff it, it’s probably not worth the petrol because no doubt a platoon of James Bond look-alikes are probably patrolling the Ithala fences to turn away anyone likely to snap Harry, so I went to the Hospice Bowls Day instead.

And that was last week.