African Contracting

I have taken a brief leave of absence from composing words that stir deep emotions and sometimes anger with the occasional dose of joy, not to run off to India to hug a monk in the snow and then stare into a dirty mirror and announcing "I have found myself".

No I was simply in a rut of life overrun with frustration, sprinkled with anger and lightly dipped in anger.
Our industry of onsite engineering quality control is one where you are on the receiving end of abuse, anger and threats, yes similar to marriage except the prospect of occasional intercourse is not an option. For all purposes of logic and sanity, we are pushed to the limits of our capacity as would the mother of three year old twins, we work hard, grunt growl and flex flab and lock heads with contractors who plead innocence and  sometimes beg for one more chance, just one more Ted.
I have seen less begging and negotiating from a  toddler in a toy store. Its a daily occurrence, certain conversations even begin with "How are you today Ted, you look angry". The scowl I have had surgically plastered to my frown is the same I bear when my girls use the words "yummy" and "cute" and "oooh" to describe the bottom feeding lying treacherous slimy badly clothed stealing thugs commonly referred to as teenage boys.

My work colleague Danny, a petite 148kg  6ft3 gentleman has both a tazer and a large stick which when all else fails, are his toys that he will use to escort visitors from my office. He is the gentlest of souls unless you attempt to hold his hand while he driving or insist on a man hug at any time of the day.

So why do we do it?

Its a combination of living an ex-pat lifestyle coupled with guaranteed work for a period and beats an office situation any day. The drives around site, interacting with locals and the beautiful countryside, my amazing cleaning lady who I have trained in making the perfect cuppachino are all plus factors that balance the madness.
Photographic opportunities and working alongside professionals, plus the joy of training new individuals so that they will be able to further their careers and gain valuable experience make it a joy to do what we do.
So without further ado, let me go chase off the elephants from the tree in the bush that is our urinal and until next time . . .

Nite All

Words

Picture yourself in a boat on a river, 

With tangerine trees and marmalade skies 

Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, 

A girl with kaleidoscope eyes. 

When you dwell in the Land of the Mountain Kingdom and have adjusted to the pace dictated by non-Western influenced society, you have the option of either venting and complaining or alternatively embracing it.

There are many factors to add to the collage that is my mind and imagination as I contemplate who I am and where I am today, a love lost, but 2 amazing daughters came from it. Retrenchment, unemployment and depression followed by grave moments of self-doubt that have brought me to where I am now, starting anew despite financial organisations that seek blood and marrow of my soul. 

I am in possession of a well maintained belly, one that has withstood the abuse and taunting of grass eating cow hugging vitamin popping aliens whose intent it seems is to die healthy, my belief is that entry into heaven will not be decided on how many push-ups or carrots I have endured, I will not be asked how many desserts I turned down or cups of dark sensual hot aromatic coffee I enjoyed either alone or in the company of friends and family.

Lesotho has reminded me that an evening playing Scrabble with a dear friend and chatting to a loved one via messaging is more meaningful than I ever imagined it to be.  You may be wondering about the quote at the top of the page, well it is a picture painted with words, embellished with imagery that is so surreal you could close your eyes and picture it. My point is that we do not play enough with words, tease with them, roll them around our tongues and then set them free with a twinkle in our eye. Do not criticise another if they do not have the words in an order specified by some ancient rule still enforced and tolerated, instead embrace the fact that they are prepared to share an opinion or conversation with you. The age of electronic messaging has brought about the emergence of a new language, to deny it would be as foolish as ignoring the importance of botox in the life of Sly Stallone, stupidity in Paris Hilton and swearing in the Kardashian household.

I have come to appreciate all communication from family, friends and loved ones in my time here, it is often the absence of something taken for granted that is seen as a pearl amidst all about us. A simple greeting and word of encouragement reminds one that they are not forgotten and still somehow needed and loved. Silence has a manner of playing havoc on the mind, almost like giving a 2 year old a fork and a bowl of peas. 

I have not enjoyed being away from my special people, but have learnt so much by being forced to be alone and sharing a confined space with my demons. 

Let me finish with a quote from Sore Klerkegaard, " Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced"

Nite All

A Pirate Forever

If you were a pirate!

Would you, could you, hold a cutlass to the throat of a man, look him in the eye and lean and say, "Well shiver me timbers, you want to date me daughter?"
As he sweats and his lower lip trembles, would you be able to say "Is it worth losing an eye and a hand over me laddie, if ye were daft enough to attempt to kiss her or lay one of your filthy paws on her, would you hear the oncoming blade as it swings towards your ever so pale exposed neck?"

Upon the birth of daughters, there is an ancient unwritten law that permits the father to take as many lives by any means as often as he deems fit, to protect the dignity and innocence of his angels. It is also stipulated in the same creed that his daughters are never at fault and any young smelly lying heathen male who insinuates differently should be dealt a slow painful death of the fathers choosing.

In days of old, it was customary for young ladies to wear chastity belts and be visible at all times.
Then there emerged the most evil of devices, the cellular phone.
It is a device so devious and despicable and when placed in the hands of a pimply overdressed hustler, allows many to hypnotise young ladies into poses and pouts no parent should ever be allowed to see. It is because of these threats that dads all over the world were solely responsible for the rise of a species called Zombies. Zombies are nothing more than teenage boys who have been injected with a Rabied Endorsed Drug Biologically Undertaking Life Loss, also commonly known as RED BULL. The state the teenager male emerges from after consumption of this drug, brainless and in seek of brains as he has none of his own, placing the entire world at risk and allows for the need of FATHER.
FATHER (Fighter Assassin Teacher Hero Eradicator Robot) is called upon to save the day, he the Bruce Willis of Destruction, the Chuck Norris of Toughness and the Incredible Hulk of Negotiators, when a teenage girl shouts "FATHER" he springs into action and protects her at all costs.

So why a pirate?

Simply because some have branded him outdated, over-protective and even, well I hate to mention it, barbaric. Pirates served a purpose fighting for those who could not fight for themselves, they sailed seas and fought monsters and finely dressed pampered sons of the Queen to protect their treasure.  Daughters are the treasure that FATHER protects and thus he is a modern day pirate, a saint whose passion is often not understood or honoured.

In closing, let this be an encouragement for all the Pirates out there, you have a mission and responsibility to uphold and protect that which is dear and sacred to you, your daughters.

Nite and happy hunting

Beer Breasted Banters

I feel as I have been dragged behind Santa's sleigh since I have returned in January.

Firstly I am from Africa, I love the sun almost enough to exposed my now bleached unrippled torso to it, however I have teenage daughters who love me, but have social lives.
The days of skipping through shopping malls and pretending that I am unable to speak English seem to be over for now, I shall have to hide these superpowers until I am a grandpa and then full havoc will occur.

So what have I been doing, well I went to a beer festival in the lovely little town of Clarens in the Free State. It opened at 10 am and by 11 am I had made new friends, bought ladies in distress beer and solicited a kiss from a married woman in return for ale, I do so very much love beer. I had a Canon DSLR and spent large periods between tastings meeting people, chatting to them and taking their photos

There was the barman from Kwazulu Natal that I named Florence for his inability to produce his female assistant, he served me 3 ales and we discussed rugby, beer and why he was in fact wearing trousers when a skirt would enhance his legs so much better.
The crew from Mitchells Brewery were by far the winners and not only was their beer the best, smoothest and brought back memories of my robust post matric and army days, it was like kissing the person of your dreams, slow, gentle and sweet, growing in strength and passion until it consumes you with love and warmth as only beer can.
There was a stage where you want to hug all around you and bury your head in the ample bosoms of all the amazingly beautiful women around me, the problem was that what I saw in reality and what I saw through the camera lens led me to believe that coffee was required immediately. Yes I had already proposed to a very special lady and she was no longer talking to me.

So off to the town square and many unsuspecting characters who would be greeted, charmed and then shot Canon style. I congratulated a man who had misplaced his wife somewhere in a shop and we joked, pretended to look for here and parted laughing.
There was the coffee shop owner who was intimidated by his wife, a rare dark haired beauty who was still at the beer festival taking photos, we spoke of marriage and the role of the submissive wife in todays society, he laughed nervously and glanced over his shoulder as if he expected a beating soon.
Onto the SAB man from Cape Town with his wife and so nice to see them enjoy a cup of coffee together, these are the moments that I treasure, middle aged teenagers talking to each other as they smile  and share a special moment together.


Oh and then the noisy shop, an outlet that sold African hand-crafted musical instruments. As I approached the shop I heard noise that seemed to suggest that there were a troop of toddlers let loose and that their parents were either deaf or just exhausted, to my surprise it was an elderly couple causing all the chaos. I attempted to banish them to the naughty corner and was greeted with a look of shock, they explained that they were buying presents for their grandchildren and we laughed, I had no choice but to join them and of course photograph them.

There was the biker guy who was happy to be shot but his biker chick disapproved so he returned to his drink and would no longer speak to me, the African shopkeeper who sold me an elephant and tried to convince me to buy a camel, I dont mind camels but could never eat a whole one so I declined.

I left the town square and re-entered the beer festival, first I attempted to convince a policewoman to frisk me, her male colleagues laughed and she simply blushed and told me to go have a beer, as I have the utmost respect for the law I obliged. The costumed folk had arrived and so to the youngsters who had just surfaced from the previous evenings adventures, I bought some young men a few beers and they posed for me with smiles emulating those of lottery winners, watched a 2 man band doing a rendition of Stairway to Heaven that made me wish that my companion for the day was a lovely lady and not a 130kg friend and took some more pics as I made my way out and back to the ghost town named Bethlehem.

It was a most enjoyable and spectacular day

My Idiots Guide to Raising Teenagers

Yes, you are the idiot. Accept it and you will be able to move on.
If not, read the first sentence until it dawns on you that you are, this is not rocket science.

Somewhere between the age of 13 and nineteen, supreme unsurmountable knowledge is bestowed on our angels and a level of all-knowing wisdom enters them. This will be extinguished upon them turning the ripe old age of 20 when worldly realizations of rent, work and somewhere to stay cannot be answered with mantras of "like whatever" or "just take a chill pill".

You have certain responsibilities as a parent and I will list them because like me, you do not have the capability to read and think at the same time. No, my dear fellow parent, you are not gifted.
You will work long hours, sometimes have 2 jobs to try and somehow make it to the third week of the month. You will beg, steal, borrow and refrain desperately from selling what you will consider excess body organs to keep a roof over your head, food on the table and purchase school items needed over and above school fees.

Clothing, torn costs more because it looks cool, so do not try to discuss it or refer to it as damaged or second hand, It does not matter that costs a fortune or is so cheap that the item may appear stolen, if it doesn't form part of an outfit it will be shunned, unless it is so desirable that all life on the planet will cease if it is not acquired. Are you following you me so far? Good.
This applies to the male and female teenage species and now we move onto the next item on the list, hair. We need to have access to enough products to survive a holocaust and must have both straighteners and curlers, branding is of the utmost importance because you, and I quote "can like to ruin your hair and like go bald early". Correct me if I misunderstand this, the hippies from my era had amazing hair, long and unkept and washed infrequently, did I imagine this? When mentioned that I used to just wear a cap when I overslept and didn't have time for a shower in my youth, I feel that somehow I am about to be swallowed up by the hair gods and spat out in a hell where there are no brushes, comb, shampoo or conditioner.

The environment is "super" important, UNLESS it somehow affects our sense of dress, hair, music, food to mention a few. More deodorant is spent in one session than I use in a week and I have a neutral body odour. Oh and have I mentioned the rolling of the eyes, the hand over the eyes and shaking head and the proverbial open mouth dropped jaw looks that you will receive as a parent? They are merely expressions of amazement and hero-worship for some act that you have carried out to be remembered forever and discussed with their peers. "You are SO not gonna believe what my Dad did in the shopping centre yesterday!" See, pride and acknowledgement.

So dear parent, how do you cope with this alien that has been forced upon you?
You love it, feed and clothe it and don't attempt to understand it. We are all in need of unconditional love without judgement, however this doesn't not mean allowing them free reign over your world. By no means, your house so your rules and consequences for actions.

Nite All

Miles of Smiles Part Two

Beach & Shopping

Rested and fed and fed again, the girls and I headed to the beach and our first of many encounters with the surf clothing shops, Country Feeling, Billabong to name a few. 

They shopped, and shopped, then shopped a little more and when I was proudly holing up a white speedo for all to see they simply shook their heads in disbelief and shopped a little more. No, I was not permitted to try on the white speedo and sing YMCA for the fellow shoppers, I was sent to purchase water. 

R12 for a bottle of 500ml water, I asked the shop attendant if that included the vaseline to make the whole episode less painful, the blank stare I received told me all I needed to know. I returned to my girls and ignored the security whose frail attempts to inform me that refreshments were not allowed in the shop, imagine I slipped and spilt some bottled water on a bikini or a towel, heck they would have to throw it out.

And so the shopping ended with a drunk stumbling barefooted local showing me how to reverse and then patiently waiting for payment for his expertise, we arrived at the beach. I removed my shirt and slops, flexed and relaxed my wobbly bits and with my camera round my neck followed Simon and Nicole to the waters edge. I was finally on holiday, I clicked and focussed and shot everything in sight, spoke to bikini clad ladies and then photographed them, the girls were on a venture to collect shells so I photographed them as well.

The sea air, the laughter, the little kid who splashed me and whose head I was now holding under the water, it was just what I needed. 

We arrived back at my parents house and raided the fridge which was bursting as usual, went to check on my Dad and he looked much better than the previous day, the cooler weather was definitely helping. Mom and I discussed Christmas lunch which would included 3 different meats and enough food to feed  a troop of JW's if they came a-knocking.

My Mom is so in control and bubbly that you would never guess that she is a pensioner/wife/nurse/cook/Mom to 4 and Granny to 3. She wakes up with a smile and just gets through the day taking all life deals her. She deals with her sorrow and hardships with a strong faith and never say die attitude. 

A final trip to the shops for some last minute Christmas shopping for the girls and some more photo shooting for me and we were ready for a family Christmas. This was what the girls and I had been talking about and planning for more than 6 months, Christmas at my folks with Granny's cooking. Simon had made her now famous trifle and we fell asleep with smiles on our faces.

It was hard to believe that this was the same shattered, bruised and broken family of three that had to face Christmas three years ago, raw from divorce. Time, hard work, love and faith can indeed work miracles.

Valentines Day

No I am not going mad, it is less than 3 months to Valentines Day and in most cases for lovers young and old this far overrides the Christmas Madness.

I never used to consider the Xmas Factor as an acceptable form of referring to Christmas, but recently I have seen another side to Christmas. For family and friends and lovers is a time to celebrate, spend time together, to share, laugh and create memories to be remembered forever. It is a commercially driven holiday sold with a side dish of Christianity, the red santa figure was created by Coca-Cola and all non-Christians hop on the ride for a free holiday.

Does this worry me? Nope
Why? Because it is a time for me to spend with my girls, reflect on a year passed and hope that I might one day spend it with someone who I love and she in turn loves me.
So am I an athiest or non-Christian?
Again no, my faith is very personal and important to me, Easter is of much more importance to me than Christmas, so I just call it as it is and celebrate it for what it is. Less guilt.
Speaking of guilt, why is it that we rely so heavily on guilt to raise kids, seek attention, enforce religion? Strange isnt it?

But back to Valentines Day, mmmmm a real commercial success story like Xmas and Easter. Bunnies, chocolates, flowers, cards and gifts, billions spent and it supports millions of industries.
Valentines day is a happy day for most, its a day where for a week there is a buzz about as lovers scramble to find something special for their partners, my girls both teenagers have a blast and I share in their excitement as much as I can. If I am not in a relationship, hell I simply buy myself a gift and have a beer or a great glass of red wine.

So as the tunes of BoneyM and panflutes lure you to the shops, enjoy, smile and forget about that perfect figure for a while.

Happy Whatever Day my Friends

Nite All

Rocking with Depression

I know what it feels like to be tired, moody, angry, irritable and as miserable as a Liverpool supporter, I have lived with a desire not to get out of bed in the morning and not even the allure of an exceptional cuppachino able to rouse limbs that feel hundreds of years old.

Its called depression and is basically a condition that takes the rock and roll from the soul and replaces it with Michael Bolton ballads, a fate worse than eating extra spicy curry when you have aching hemorrhoids i am told.
My name is Ted and I am on medication for depression.

When I am on the meds, I cope perfectly well and am able to cope with most of life's curveballs, without them I am unable to process and understand and rationally deal with them at all, I am an angry teenager who cannot comprehend  the need for logic as it defies my irrational tantrum. I was convinced by my therapist, doctor and friends that these were needed and the difference has been life-altering. My biggest stumbling block was "me" and seeing it as a character flaw, I was too proud initially to admit that I was not able to cope on my own, I mean just look at Batman and how happy he is! I have tried to wean myself more than once and quickly realised that they were a part of life as much as my distorted sense of humour is.

So all was going well until I discovered that I will be in Lesotho a week longer than anticipated and will be running out of my "happy I want to cuddle the world" pills. I have had to move to alternate days and with the reduction emerged my old enemy, laughing and attempting to drag me down to the cesspool from where he emerged. The battle has once more commenced.

For me to do my Mick Jagger moves with the raspiness of Bob Dylan impression, I need the little pearl of stability that comes in a white capsule and henceforth I can Rock the Depression oooooooo yeah. For now my moves are very unlike Jagger and resemble a sloth without a Garmin.

Also have the odd headache to contend with, but the light shines and the tunnel draws to a close.

Nite All

Raising Teenagers Made Simple

I will not murder them I will not murder them I will not murder them!

Sound familiar?

How many parents of teenagers have sworn this self-motivating chant to themselves?

I have 2 of the easiest most well behaved teenaged daughters in the world and yet, at times I feel the urge to spice them, baste them and add the proverbial apple to the mouth and slow roast them. Remember the promise we made when we became parents and entered this world with the enthusiam of a puppy attacking a roll of toilet paper? We swore on all things holy, pure and blessed that we would NOT become like our parents.We would be different! A new generation of parenting, after all what did our parents know.

Reality is that we try the best we can, by trial and error, add love, frustration and worry and somehow we get through it all. I am a single Dad with enough finances to raise one and a half kids, I have two and as I ponder the expenses vs income, I am well aware that I can not resort to exotic dancing on re-inforced tables in my sleeping hours. I now longer require beauty sleep as this is as good as it gets. The greying twitching ex-hunk is no longer able to party till 2 and bounce into the office at 7 unless he has been catapulted into his work station.

Questioning their music and in particular rappers with names like Lil Drake, 25 cents and the Usher will be the equivalent of you dancing in public in their presence.

So to those fellow parents of teenagers, we love them, we feed them and we guide them. we can do no more.

PS in terms of shopping for clothing for these little angels, I have discovered that a fistful of cash will save you fortune in return trips exchanging items you so lovingly chose. Do not be offended, simply accept that your taste in fashion died as your eyesite deteriorated.

Nite All

My Teenage Treasures

I have 2 teenage daughters that are the reason I breathe, they are the smile on my face and the bounce in my belly when I dance.

When I look back on the past 2 and a half years of my life and the trauma and adjustments that were made and endured, I am amazed how "normal" they are.
Both have battled initially at school but did well at the end of this year, both have had and do have relationships and I have only threatened to kill one individual of the male species.
Both initially shared a bedroom with me and then a tiny bachelors flat and never complained.
They accepted the fact that they was no money and when I was unable to be a Dad, they cared for me.

The result of this experience is that I have 2 fighters who although polite and well mannered, speak their minds and are blossoming into amazing woman.

We have created our own new rituals and routines and now operate as a unite of 3. This includes sharing one bathroom and I have done a combination of a raindance, exotic tapdancing and howling and begging when their 10 minute bath somehow exceeds 30 minutes.

I praise God that I am where I am and upon reflection I have no idea how I survived on a single salary. My budget doesn't allow for fruit and bran but somehow accommodates chocolate cereal, beer and cheese.

So as this year draws to an end for Simon, Nicole and I, we would like to wish you a very Merry Christmas filled with love, laughter and lunacy. May your hearts with love and your homes blessed with visitors.

To my amazing family (especially my Mom) and fantastic friends, an Oprah sized extravaganza of a hug to you.

Nite all

Pictures courtesy of iCandyphotography

Cheeseburgers & Dating

Monday morning 04h30 and a new week has nudged me not 
too gracefully out of bed.
As I climb into a bath rudely chastising myself for being overly generous with the cold water, I contemplate the 320km that will be travelled, the meetings and the admin that will await me with the excitement of a 2 year old fed on chocolate cake.

Is it abnormal to crave a homestyle cheeseburger at this time of the day? 
Slapping my belly and smiling as I wallow in my ever warming bath water, I decide no! 
A cheeseburger is the mans equivalent to a womans chocolate, it is the food that brings a smile to the face of the most miserable grumpy sour person you know. It is messy, juicy, salivatingly sensual and leaves you feeling as if you have just made love to a beautiful girl. 

I shaved, combed and dressed and sat down to a chocolate cluster cereal.

My appointment for 05h30 arrived at 07h00 and being Monday I simply smiled, shrugged and rose to greet it.
The day was busy and tiring and then the mother of all bombshells struck!

My Simon Has A Boyfriend!

Dads and dating teenage daughters, I did promise her I wouldn't kill him.

Nite All

(Now where did I put my night vision goggles and camouflage kit whahaha)

My eX

I was asked not to write about my ex-wife Heather in my blogs, however because we share 2 beautiful daughters it only seems fair that I do.

Today is her birthday and she is turning. 35ish and this blog is my gift to her.

How would I describe her?
She is passionate, a gifted person in the area of numerous crafts and the ability to teach them to others.

She loves our daughters and cares for them and like any parent with 2 teenage daughters I can only imagine the temptation to love, throttle, laugh and scream all in the space of 15 minutes.

Heather has made her choices in life as have all of us and she has taken to her new life with the purpose and passion that makes her the person that we all know and grew to love.


Despite our differences, disagreements and banging of heads, we both want what's best for our girls. We might not agree on much, but our personal lives are our own and involve Simon and Nicole.

So today I wish you a very blessed and wonderful year and trust it will be easier than the last one.

Nite all

School of Parenting

So I had to fetch Simon's report from school after work and I was a little weary, but hey its all part of the package.
I arrived and the first thing I noticed was not the prefects meeting and greeting us with a friendly polite "Good afternoon Sir / Ma'am". Neither was it the clean school property or the organised manner in which it was all planned and executed for the ease of collection.

Nope, it was the parents collecting the reports.
There was the extremely smooth charming and supposedly hilarious parent who strutted even more when the prefects smiled politely, the parent who the moment they entered the school property with their child began criticising and sternly running them down. You could see the student switch to stupid mode and show as much interest as the person working at lost luggage in an airport.

Then you have snob, who feels it is beneath them to greet anyone, smile, wait in queues and is so inconvenienced because she could be at a waxing or pedicure or planning her new nose.
Or what about the couple who hardly completed their argument and now have to "act" married. They are locked in an endless struggle for power and would rather beat each other with baseball bats than share a compliment.

My thought through all of this was, what the heck have these kids done to deserve this. My ex and I may not agree on much anymore, but when it comes to our girls, I would like to think we are adult enough to consider them as human beings whose welfare we are responsible for.

When did parents become such bottoms?
Has it always been this way?

I have friends who are unable to have kids and would be brilliant parents, then you have other folk who treat their offspring as if they are nothing more than an intrusion in a successful social life.

Nite all.