My problem is not your problem, and your problem is not mine

WordPress tells me, that the first 3 words, and the last 3 word, are the only ones that readers see, and those are the ones that attract a reader’s attention.

It is sardonic that “My problem is, is not mine” would be the impression my headline leaves.

I will get back to the definition of sardonic. For now, permit me to vent.

It was a tough week. I had been asking for COVID financial assistance since March from the power that be. It is now December. I had been given several promises and options, and while not ideal, we are not in a situation to be picky about what help we will take.

Before I ruffle some feathers, let me thank the shareholder for approving the solutions they did approve.

But there is a long and laborious road from promises, to execution. What is said, is done. Right? Wrong. What is said, must still be done. So here is what I explored this week. There is an African saying: “It is easier to slide down a pole, than to climb up it”. That is true. But what is also true, is that the top of the pole is not the part that executes the mundane tasks of paperwork to support a transaction. For that, you need to connect with the executor. (Not the executioner – that is a whole different moral debate).

Holding people accountable for what they promised, is all good and well. But when you ask for help, you must be prepared to work for that help. Even if someone said they will assist, and even if they have the best intention to assist. But the minute you walk out of that office, that person must attend to their own problems, which you probably know nothing about.

I trusted that the counterparty would eventually deliver, but my patience was wearing thin. I have a fair inkling I believe of the problems of the counter party to this transaction, but I had been patiently understanding for too long, and my problem was now becoming a crisis.

First, it took monthly visits to convince my audience of the problem, and to understand the weather on their side of the pond. Getting to balance accountability and responsibility, of both parties. Then it took weekly visits to ask how the paperwork was progressing, which would see a respite from the pressure of my problem. Then it took daily, literally every day, visits to get someone, anyone, to press the button to conclude the transaction.

Perhaps, part of the frustration is that I am a goal orientated person, and I do not particularly care how we get there. You can ask an ex-colleague, Trevor. We had many “healthy debates” about meeting deadlines, vs quality of work. It is a chicken or egg debate, for which there is no one always correct answer. That end goal attitude is what gives me my “gift of perseverance”, but it is also frustrating when I cannot find the next person in the chain of command that is required to execute the transaction.

I am also an eternal optimist , so getting stuck in the lift in one of those trips did not deter me. Even if some people inferred it was because I was becoming too troublesome in the office I was visiting……. I rather saw that incident as a gem in the story of how I finally got to the solution.

Required paperwork in hand, but stuck in a lift….

So, knowing that the counter party have their own problems, I changed tack. I do not know why I would use a sailing term, as I only ever tried windsurfing as a teenager. I guess because the term denotes a particular strategy of changing one’s approach depending on the prevailing conditions.

(Another one of those benefits of being goal orientated rather than process/route orientated).

I nicely explained, that if they could simply place that signature here, and then press that button there, for a transaction that was already approved several weeks ago, they could make me go away. i.e., I would represent one less problem for them to resolve.

It worked. I am not saying you must become someone else’s problem in order to resolve your own problem. I am saying that everyone is busy, and you cannot assume that others understand, or will prioritise your problem over their own. So, keep at it. It is only if you keep at it, that your problem will “Do like a Disprin – Dissolve”.

Thank you for listening. As I re-read and do a quality check on this post, I can see how my frustration dissipated. Now, how long do you think I should wait until I pester the powers that be for the paperwork required for solution number 2?

PS – Sardonic : Mocking, scornful, ironic, sarcastic. You get the nuance?

PPS – I found this cute “12 [easy] steps to define a problem” on wiki-how.

https://www.wikihow.com/Define-a-Problem

Señor Onion, the fear and the flavor of the onion family

Some thirty-odd years ago, SABC ran a TV program called Señor Onion. He was a Mexican (or Spanish?) onion and he used to play a guitar and sing; and lived in constant fear of being eaten.

It has taken me all morning, to find something on the internet, to jog your memory of this Mexican aromatic, but I can only find three references to this show, and no visuals. How on earth did we do this in the ages gone by?

Now that I have set the scene, let me share my lessons on life. Onions.

The by-product if you will, of living off the land, is good neighbourliness. It reminds me of a line I read in a sci-fi novel, which was not any easier to find on the internet. Because I read in a paperback, before I started using e or audio books, and now I can’t recall the author, nor the title. But it goes something like this:

A man stood gloriously in the sun, thinking it just and right that the sun shines just on him. Not realising that the sun shines equally on another, regardless.

So, thanks Sjelda. The onions you needed to thin out for an optimal harvest, established themselves very well in our garden, and reaped a bountiful harvest.

PS – nice idea about the “stem onions”!

Space.

Do not be stingy with your surface area consumption. Onions need breathing space in order to develop. So while sowing them makes spacing a bit challenging (given the tiny seed), the better you do at this stage, the less work there is later trying to transplant them without damage.

The same can be said for carrots, but that is another blog for another time.

Sun And Water.

Young guns – Beets standing guard in front of onions

In these particular beds, we make use of flood irrigation. And the onions furthest from the corner, had the most sun, and yielded the largest onions.

Harvest.

When the leaves start laying flat, probably a good time to harvest. We harvested over a period of just over a month, which tells me they can stay in the ground for a bit. We stretched it out a bit, so that we could cope with the volumes during the curing process.

The birthplace of the Onions
Freshly harvested

Curing.

Onions in a cage

We built this air-dry cage. No dark cool places available in this semi-arid country, but the air is nice and dry. So dry, it takes a week to dry out freshly harvested spinach, herbs etc. These green things we wash, lay out in a single layer on a dish towel on the idle Jewel, under a food covering, and when we return next weekend, we have dried herbs. Celery leaves work particularly well.

A selection of (drying) herbs

Back to the onions. They stay in the cage for about 2 weeks. Then I check that they sealed properly. This is why it is important to only harvest when the leaves have fallen flat. That creates a natural seal to keep the moisture inside the onion, and no chance for moisture to escape via the stem, resulting in air pockets, or for rot to enter through the stem, and set in the middle of the onion.

Mid way cure

Once that state of “seal” is achieved, I cut off the excess stalks, and then leave them in the cooler (not really cool, but at least dark) for another two weeks or so.

Off to the dungeons with you lot….

Then they are ready to use.

Use.

Caramelised onions. I shared my brother’s recipe before. Simply slice them up, toss in a little olive oil, and leave in slow cooker overnight on low setting. Next morning, if there is any moisture left, let it cook open for the moisture to evaporate.

It makes the sweetest tasting caramelised onions, without using sugar, and freezes well for later use on pizzas, smoked cheese, etc.

Pickled onions. The recipe I can share here, is for pickled ginger. I have not tried pickled onions yet.

Onion sourdough bread. Sweet & sour.

Onion sourdough bread

Décor. I like the whimsical Onion flower.

Whimsy

Factoids.

It is the tissue like skin, which makes you cry.

It is that very sweetness, that makes them a health food. They are filled with complex sugars that keep our metabolism healthy, vitamins, minerals, dietary fibre beta carotene, folate (one of the B vitamins), and they have no fat.

An average sized onion has 30 calories.

It’s a strong antiseptic (and keeps unwanted people at bay also. But then again, wanted people too….   😉)

If your feet are cold, rub chopped onions on them. The increase in blood flow will warm your feet.

Get rid of inion breath by eating parsley.

In 2012, worldwide production was estimated at 74m tonnes.

And with that, I serenade you good night.

Could you catch corona in the current climate? Casual commentary on my condition

The tool I use to document my blog, has a very nifty “headline analyser”, that scores the headlines according to word count, common words, sentiment etc. I cannot wait to see that it does with today’s headline.

Also, cannot wait to see what you will do with it.

Yes, I tested positive for Corona on Thursday.

No, I am not on supportive breathing apparatus.

Although the men in the long coats are standing by to take me to a soft padded cell. Being stuck indoors with my husband, aka the Big Baby, is driving me nuts.

The Husband’s interpretation of “Bring home good quality multi vitamins please”

So this blog will simply describe the situation, and my experience. It will counteract some of those scary “can’t breath, can’t eat, can’t move” video clips that circulated on social media, because not all experiences are like that.

As I write this, I can link this to some threads in some previous blogs. Each person is unique and must contribute in their unique way. Each person’s Corona is unique and needs its own tailormade response.

Here is what worked for me:

  1. The first signs

Dizziness.

That was it. No collapsing in the street, no special orders for extra set of lungs. I simply was dizzy late Sunday.

I tried to sleep it off all day Monday but decided to go to the doctor on Tuesday when that did not work.

All the literature talks about nausea, headaches, fever, coughing, tiredness, diarrhoea (I nearly got it trying to spell it!), sore throat, loss of taste etc.

Now I know, you do not need all the symptoms to be Corona’d. I guess this is one of the reasons it makes it so difficult for doctors to quickly identify and respond. It sure does not make sense to haul out a COVID test for every little sniffle.

2. The contamination

It was only when I got an email on Wednesday, informing me that a person at a function I attended the previous Thursday was tested positive, that I decided to ask the doctor to request a COVID test.

Were there protocols at the event? Yes. Did everyone follow them? No. Was that where I caught it? Maybe, maybe not.

Now I know, its much easier to follow social distancing rules with strangers, than with friends and colleagues you realise you have missed for ages.

I will be giving you a hearty “forearm bump” next time I see you. No akward “I-want-to-hug-you-but-COVID-says-I-can’t-so-let-me-give-you-this-akward-presentation-of-arms-without-body-contact”.

3. The test

It was an extremely sweet Lab assistant that swabbed me, and to give him credit, he was gentle. But it was first ticklish, then burning, then eye watering.

Now I know the value of empathy. It does not change anything, but your perception. And your perception is your reality, right?

4. The outcome

I am impressed. By Friday lunch time I had my call from my Counsellor. This is not some political local windbag, but my very own guide from the Ministry of Health. Kahile was well informed and immensely helpful. He even explained why he was offering to accommodate me in a lodge. (Which I was tempted to take up, seeing as my employer is a provider of some of those lodges, and we need to revenue!)

And not 10 minutes after, my contact tracer called to get the names and numbers of all those I had contact with. Luckily, I had self-isolated from Monday already, so the list was truly short.

Now I know, contact tracing is real, and it works.

5. The treatment

Not particularly scientific. So, let me list the many home remedies recommended by anyone who heard I was positive.

  • Steaming. With Vicks, which I only got on Friday, so tried Tiger Balm for the first two days. Yeah, Tiger Balm may not be the kindest on your delicate nasal passages.
  • Hot tea (or any beverages) with lemon and Fresh Ginger (eating both afterwards). Finally getting The Husband to try tea without milk & sugar!
  • Immune Boosters. Wish we could try some new flavours.
  • Seasick medication for my initial dizzy symptoms. Probably no longer required but let me continue.
  • Multi vitamins
  • Fresh fruit
  • Hot meals
  • Gargling with salt water
  • Sanitization

And thanks to The Husband’s brother, who drove all the way out of town to deliver the extra doses.

Organic pharma & Big Pharma

6. The end

No, not in the way of Jim Morrison “This is the end, my beautiful friend, this is the end”, but rather a case of I have nothing further to report.

We will self-isolate for at least 10 days, which means we may be seen in Public by next week Monday again. Not this Monday, next Monday.

I will undoubtedly catch up on drafting a few posts, and I certainly will share any new Corona experience with you. Keep safe and keep your social distancing!

———-X———

Ah, update: The Husband also tested positive. I will say that for us, through thick & thin.

Assimilation – fearing the defeat of the Self

The topic of assimilation had come up a few times over the last week. Or perhaps it only came up once, but because I was daydreaming about today’s post, I applied it to all scenarios in my mind’s eye.

Which may in fact not be in my eye at all.

You need to be a Trekkie to appreciate that.

I have been told before that memory is pliable. Each time you recall a memory, it travels down a certain path to your consciousness, you recall a certain scene, and it travels back to the filing cabinet along a different path. Each time this happens, it changes slightly. For example, you may recall the colour of your childhood neighbour’s cat being ginger. But when you dig out the photos, it is actually a tabby cat.

The cynic in me thinks it may also have to do with your Garfield obsession at the time, “painting” your observations to change perception into so called fact.

It just goes to show, just how personal your perceptions are, and hence, your recall of “the facts”.

I recall the quote that is serving as today’s inspiration, as

“We will add your distinctive uniqueness to our own”.

It is irony defined. We are unique, and therefore must be assimilated into the collective.

I like being the odd one out (Thank you for noting that on Thursday NU). I believe that taking a different angle, makes sure that the collective is well rounded, and at least considered different options available before committing on a course of action.

And by adding my different angle to the collective, I become the collective. I change just as much as the collective changes. Which means I am not so different after all, does it not?

Last week, I commented on the importance to retain Your Self. No, it is not a typo, I did mean the person who is the self, and not yourself.

When we are assimilated into a society, or a new future, it may be a little jarring, or uncertain, or even downright scary. But the more things change, the more they stay the same.

It was at the farewell event of a remarkable woman of courage and inspiration, that it dawned on me. We join a firm, we learn, we grow, and of course, we change. And being the pack animals that we are, we are assimilated. If it ended there, it would have been a pretty boring story. A one-dimensional result. But, when we take our experience elsewhere, we extricate ourselves from a particular subset of the collective. And we have the opportunity to become assimilators. We must surely take the best of our past pack and influence the new environment. Our uniqueness can and must add value to the collective, which in this case, is the Namibian economy.

Each person at that event, had their unique strong bond with their own timeline linked to a strong collection of experience. Like a maze. There are many different exits and entrances, and some paths do not even cross, but if you stand back, you can see that each path is vital to making the whole maze work.

Some of the previously assimilated individuals had sparked off into a different direction, to take the seeds of success to another part of our environment, while others remained, to make sure the origin remains intact.

And here the diverging tributaries of uniqueness, come together again to form a deluge of —–? That depends on all of us. And how we tolerate individuals like the Fishrot 6.

I will use my uniqueness, if I can, to block, temper, influence, assuage, mitigate, and otherwise optimistically brace our economy, our collective. For it to work, I need you to do the same.

PS – the Borg actually said:

“We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.”

And the optimist in me, must report that there was one Borg called Locutus, which shows that even the collective, needs individuals. For the non-Trekkies, The Borg are cybernetic organisms linked to a hive mind. There are individual parts, but no individuals, hence no one Borg unit with its own name. And in spite of their “uniformness”, they saw a need to assimilate, yet retain one individual. What happens after that, is whole different movie, for another day.

Live long and prosper, my fellow homo sapiens.

Where goats do roam

Today’s story is a story about a goat.

Part of the reason: it is too hot to be doing anything outside. So, I shall craft the life story of one Ziggy, son of Kruispad Cecil and Ewe X, brother to Cecil X.

The other part is that a friend of a friend reached out to me. She heard I had bravely swopped the world of financial management for full time farming and wanted goating advice. Well, my advice takes the form of much of my blog – experimental outcomes. And, I still have my day job.

The three Boerbok sons were born on 28 August 2020. Cecil X sometime during the night before, Ziggy in the exceedingly early morning hours, and last born at around 7am.

To appreciate our great excitement, you must understand that we had only taken ownership of these goats a mere 5 (plus a bit) months before.

Cecil X comes with papers, and was my xth (….) birthday gift.

Kruispad Cecil arrives at DBP

DeMille (his first lady friend) arrived 3 days later, and Little Millertjie 4 months later. You may be able to work it out, but Millertjie has not yet. We have not told her that Cecil is not her dad.

Here is a hint to the naming convention of this first family pack – You win a prize if you figure it out. The prize is, yep, you guessed, goat pie.

We have been told that goats often abandon their babies. Well, in the case of our goats, I think you will find it hard to find better mothers. Mommy number 1 was very protective and watched us very carefully as we bottle fed her middle kid. Unfortunately, last born did not make it. Mommy’s milk factory had only one outlet, and we did not know enough then, to take charge sooner.

The first triplets

Things went well, and we relocated the family to the stone kraal, for safe keeping. Mom was fed with feed, and delicacies such as Camel Thorn pods and Soutbos (one of the few tree names that translates correctly directly “saltbush”).

Soutbos (Full name: Oumansoutbos, or Atriplex Nummularia) is a firm favourite with Cattle (Daisy comes to fetch hers), sheep and goats. Of course, also with Kudu, who spend a few minutes on it, before tackling my butternut! It is a drought resistant plant and does very well on the run-off from the kitchen sink.

Ziggy’s first feed was about 300ml of box milk, with an egg. The egg is important as that first milk from mommy (called Colostrum, or colloquially – beestings) has critical starting nutrients for baby. Google says it can be frozen, but what did we know at the time.

Mr Delivery at DBP

You can continue using box milk, it is just awfully expensive. We bought some powered cow milk, and Ziggy loves it. The trick is less volume, more often. Apparently 10% of body weight, maybe 4 or 5 times a day. But they will let you know when they are hungry!

Ziggy and Cecil X at 2 weeks old

Ziggy’s progress was terribly slow. His brother, Cecil X, flourished, and while mommy was very attentive, she simply could not produce enough milk for both. More ewes delivered their kids, and it was becoming crowded in the pen. I use the word loosely. The kraal is large. But why I say crowded, I do believe that someone stepped on Ziggy, because two weekends later, he was dragging his feet, and not jumping around like the other kids. I was very worried.

Brother from another mother

We tried all manner of injections, from Swamycin (local equivalent of Terramycin). We tried an injection (which only the State Vet can prescribe, and there is only one such State Vet in Windhoek, who does not necessarily work on a Friday).

Lucky for Uncle Willem. I found him on Facebook. Or rather, he found my cries for advice on the Internet, and now I am part of the WhatsApp group that only deals with goat problems. It is highly informative, but I worry about what we are going to do if Uncle Willem is not around. If only I had the skills and attention to detail, to document each of his carefully considered symptom analysis questions, related advice, and final outcomes, I could write an app that could stand in for Uncle Willem. UW for President!

Yes, Disprin (although only ¼ Blue Disprin) is good for pain relief for Ziggy. And the only other advice was to be patient. If indeed it was an injury by a dominant other mother, it needed time to heal.

Ziggy at one month old

We eventually moved Ziggy closer to home, and now, we have our very own Jack Russel.

Our very own Jack Russel 😉 3 months old here.

He is now one week short of 3 months old. Becoming as handsome as his father. And I dare say, his legs will catch up with his brother’s soon enough, although his horns seem to be taking it slow.

Abbie, I am dying to hear how your goat start up is doing. Let us know!

Now, I shall take a dip in our water storage system. Good and productive week all!