Wednesday, 17 July 2013

He said, she said

For personal reasons I am in South Africa for a number of weeks.  I thought I might be able to write while I am here, but I am too distracted. 

The view from my bedroom window

I find I am a writer that needs solitude, stillness and a quiet time to think, but that isn't presently possible. To attempt anything longer (or more serious) than a blog seems to be beyond me in the time allotted.  

In the meantime I am accumulating experiences, storing up sights, sounds and smells. And even though I am not writing, I am thinking about writing.  And apart from soaking up the scenery, I've been listening to the locals. Sometimes their conversations are amusing.  

In church the other morning before the service, two guys in the pew behind me:   And before I go on you have to understand that rugby in South Africa is a whole religion on its own. Anyway, (as the locals are also fond of saying):  
First guy, "Well, did you see the match last night? It was absolutely thrilling."
Second guy, "Christ! If only they had passed the ball like that at the start of the bloody season. Instead they wait until the last game, they wait until Bryan Habana is leaving to run with the ball and pass it, and play like their lives depend on it."

I kind of felt like it was taken for granted that God was just as interested in the game as they were, and that somehow by the end of the service, they would know what God's opinion was, too.

This is one of the reasons I am distracted
And then yesterday in the street, on my walk home from the beach, I was accosted by a young guy who was begging, which put everything into perspective. Could I just please give him a loaf of bread or some money to buy food?  I told him I had nothing with me, I'd just been walking on the beach. All I have is the front door key.  And he said to me, No, that's not good enough. Here I am, suffering, and you people can't help me. 

I did not know what to say...

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