Flying Pigs

The dog on Milnerton Beach stood next to its adoring owner, small spade in hand, as it discharged its doo da. As we drew near, we could see that this exotic specimen was no ordinary dog. It was a pet pig, replete with a skimpy red waistcoat and a bright red collar. It was the snotty snout covered in sand and the curly tail that marked it out as a non-canine. We looked at the owner whose eyes betrayed a tired glance which said “don’t ask!”

Yes, we are back in Cape Town, this city of colour and contrast, mad pigs and South Africans. In Khayalitsha, this little piggy would be on a spit at some street corner surrounded by snotty nosed kids.

But there is always more to this place than fun and eccentricity. Yesterday’s Cape Times carried a report on the rape of an 11 month old child. It was the babysitter. The day before, we visited a shelter for pregnant women; they can go there to give birth safely, hidden from violent partners, when they think the only alternative is an abortion. And like every other little charity, they need money. The young women fall out and fight with each other with no experience of resolving their differences by peaceful means. We will be sitting with them on the odd evening to maybe explore some alternatives.

I was a guest at a Christian men’s group in Constantia a few nights ago. It went well, or so I thought. They were a sincere bunch and they explore the difficulties of masculinity with great honesty. I knew a few of them from our last visit to Cape Town. Later I discovered I had offended one of them. I reflected. Indeed I had said the wrong thing or at least the right thing at the wrong time. This is not Yorkshire and certainly not Dublin. I need to watch my tongue. Lesson learned.

In another meeting in Gugulethu, Karen and I could see how acutely tuned in people are to being accountable for any donations they receive. It is not a question of embarrassment or shame. Just making sure everything is clean and clear and transparent. Unlike Jacob Zuma, the president of South Africa, currently on a visit to the UK, who has still not declared his assets 10 months after the deadline set down by law. That was the headline on this Sunday in South Africa.

A picture from across the border in Zimbabwe showed two boys collecting individual grains of maize that had been scantily scattered from a passing truck on a day when
Robert Mugabe spent $100,000 on his 86th birthday.

One day one hopes the rich and powerful of Africa will have their hearts of stone replaced with hearts of flesh, that they will behave like truly enlightened leaders, that they will notice the poverty of their own people.

And that the pet pigs of Milnerton will fly.