Union Buildings

Union Buildings

Tuesday 26 July 2016

Canada - Living in the true north.


By Andre Kilian
Meintjeskop Courier, Volume1/1994
Text translated from the original Afrikaans

One Monday morning Koba Kenny arrived at the office with a big smile on her face. The reason she explained was that it was getting warmer. By Wednesday it should be -22 C and by Thursday -17 C. Something to look forward to!

It is not something to smile about, but cry. Except perhaps if one thinks that before the weekend the temperature was -38 C, which was experienced as - 56 C because of the wind chill. Radio and TV warned that “exposed skin will freeze in less than two minutes”.

The Kilian family awoke on Sunday morning with a burst water heater on the second floor. The water filtered down to the ground floor where it turned the mat in the sun room(!) into an ice rink, the cushions on the sofa into ice blocks and the ceiling into a cave with stalactites. A winter wonderland.

On Saturday, like the German aunties in the south of that country, Koba threw one of her loose mats onto the snow to clear it of ant impurities. An hour later she had to summon help and they had to carry that mat into the house on its side like a sheet of glass.

Liebeth Turbati’s husband who as an Italian was indignant that we could recommend that he acquire a gas-operated hairdryer for himself. Not for the hair, but to unfreeze the locks on the motor car. Otherwise one could not get the key in to open the car.

In the meantime the Italian was also obliged to accept as normal wearing his wife’s pantyhose under his long underpants!

And this led Chris Botha to tell about the problems his landlady had with burst water pipes, water leaks and garage doors frozen closed. Like all financially independent Canadians, the lady spent the Canadian winters on the islands. 

When on a short visit to Ottawa she needed her car she had to call a factotum to break open the garage door. And voila, inside the garage her car was stuck in a block of ice 8 inches x 14 foot x 18 foot with stalactites from roof to roof.
Canada has much in common with South Africa. But not the climate!
Best wishes to those of you in Ottawa. This tales makes the heat in Pretoria more bearable! The editor.


Thursday 21 July 2016

Moscow - Traffic rules


Steve McQueen, Moscow

Meintjeskop Courier  Volume 1, 1994

In every city there are generally accepted driving rules and practices which are designed to guide a newcomer to its roads and highways. So too is the case in Moscow. If the Russian language is not your forte and you are concerned about having to read the traffic rule book of Moscow, never fear. Based upon close observations and equally close encounters, we are able to offer the following driving rules for the Russian Capital:

When approaching a red traffic light, immediately change lanes, irrespective of the direction in which you must proceed subsequently. Once you have passed through a green traffic light, immediately change lanes once more, irrespective of your intended direction of travel, even if you are already in the correct lane.

Always travel in the fastest moving lane and make every possible attempt to get into such a lane, once again, irrespective of your subsequent needs to turn. Continue to weave at the highest possible speed from lane to lane until you are sure that your lane is the fastest moving one. If this lane subsequently slows down, move again quickly until you are satisfied.

If you observe another driver trying to apply this rule, or having the gall to try and overtake you, immediately block his path. Even if you are in no particular hurry, on principle, continue to accelerate until it becomes clear to the other driver that you deserve to be in front.

If your turn-off is some way ahead, do not waste time by trying to get into the appropriate lane. Avoid this temptation at all costs. Rather move into the lane furthest from the turning lane and speed past until about ten feet from the turn-off. Then, hit the brakes sharply and, without  indicating, force your way directly in front of all the other vehicles, hooting indignantly until you edge the vehicle currently in the turn, off the road and are able to make your turn.

If, by your own negligence, you find yourself in a queue waiting to turn, even if you yourself have to make that turn, hoot again furiously a few times, and then swing out directly in front of the traffic in the next lane and speed past the queue until you are right next to the vehicle in front of the queue. Cut him off, and ensure that yours is the car in front of the queue. The other driver has no rights and besides, he is probably inferior to you.

If you are unable to cut off the driver in front of a turning queue, simply make an additional lane of your own. There is no need to concern yourself about the illegality of this manoeuvre, for very soon, other cars will begin to form up behind you. Just beware of being cut off yourself.

Bear in mind the immutable law that your rate of acceleration must increase the closer you get to your destination. Having only five feet between your destination or a potential parking spot should not be allowed to interfere with the increasing speed of your vehicle.

Should your vehicle stall for any reason, even on a major highway, make no effort to remove the vehicle. In fact, leave your vehicle exactlywhere it stands. The other traffic is bound by their respect for you to avoid unpleasantness. This rule also applies in cases where you might need to top up with petrol or even service your car. stop the car in the middle of all the lanes, this is very important, and leisurely fill up the tank if you have petrol handy, or simply carry out a few repairs. If you do not have petrol handy, or you discover that you need a spare part, do not under any circumstances move the vehicle. Leave it right thereand go in search of petrol or spare parts.

Should you come upon another stalled vehicle in the middle of the road, stop directly behind him for about ten minutes.

Soon a queue will form behind you. Then, hoot loudly, making obscene gestures and hurling verbal abuse at him, and turn, with no indication (of course) into the next lane. Other cars will follow you, but with this tried and tested formula you will have succeeded in being in front of all the other vehicles.


Good luck, and happy driving. 

Tuesday 12 July 2016

A rough guide to city living in Moscow in 1993


By Steve McQueen, Moscow

After having been here a little over seven months now, I think it could be said that Moscow is more different than any other city. We arrived in Moscow almost two years after the really hard work had been done to establish South African representation here.

Those pioneers could no doubt write chapters on the challenges they faced to set up an office in Russia.

We couldn't pretend to have experienced the hardships and difficulties of those early days. Suffice to say that the Moscow as we have experienced it, is considerably different now and provides far more goods and services than two years ago.

Having made that disclaimer then, the following is a strictly personal view of life in Moscow as we have experienced it.

A visitor to Moscow could be baffled by this city where not only the old and new architecture exist side by side, but also where attitudes to the immense changes which have taken place are every bit as negative as they are positive.

It is a mistake to believe that the political changes of the last two years have been unchallenged or that the opposition to them is too insignificant to warrant attention. The contrary is true. On Lubyanka Square, outside the headquarters of the former KGB, is a podium upon which once stood a statue of Felix Drezhinsky, the founder of the Cheka which later became the KGB. 

This podium is all that remains of the statue which was toppled after the failed 1991 coup in Moscow. The Moscow Times recently carried a photograph of attempts by the Moscow Government to remove the podium in its entirety. These attempts were frustrated by a lack of labour and equipment and the local English press suggested that, like the vestiges of Drezhinsky, Russia's past was resisting the changes and was more difficult to remove than previously thought.

Remembering this sometimes helps to understand life in Moscow and perhaps puts a little perspective on the city of Moscow today, where past and present live side by side and where very often the only way to understand the present is to look at the past.

Leaving the political issues aside, a visitor to Moscow will find that there are factors here which make an impact on your life every minute of the day, and your attitude toward them can determine how quickly you adjust to life in Moscow. We were once told to take one day at a time, but honestly, in Moscow sometimes all the days attack you at once.

In no particular order then, the following are a few of the factors with which a visitor to Moscow will in all probability have to contend:

The Weather:
Weather-wise Moscow can be frustrating. The summers, although short, can be hot and humid. We look forward to this time of the year because drivers can at least then see the potholes which need to be avoided. For about seven to eight months the snow is our constant companion. Temperatures range between minus ten and minus twenty five degrees. Temperatures are a constant discussion topic, although personally I am not yet convinced that minus ten is any better than minus fifteen degrees. Anything below zero is cold. From there on, it's all just a matter of degree. Believe it or not, the city functions perfectly normally, the snow notwithstanding. If you allow it, the darkness and the cold can lead to what has been called cabin fever. Many hours are spent indoors and the necessity for indoor activities takes on a new meaning during the winter.

A dual economy:
The official Russian rouble currency now trades at more than one thousand to the dollar. The dollar exists side by side with the rouble. In fact the first question you would ask in a Russian establishment, is whether the form of payment is rouble or dollar?

While there is seemingly great poverty here, there are those who have taken the opportunity provided by the collapse of communism, and have taken on all forms of trading in a bid to enter the free market.

The existence of an economic mafia is openly acknowledged. You can buy anything here, from ancient and priceless icons, to marmoset monkeys  from Africa, On one visit to an animal market I was asked if I perhaps wanted to buy a crocodile. I never doubted for a minute that if I agreed, one would be brought to me from a nearby stall.

A leading question for any self-respecting capitalist, must be, what is available in Moscow? Many hard currency ((i.e. US Dollar and D. Mark) shops have sprung up in Moscow, and although these provide almost anything the heart desires, the prices are high. A dozen apples, a loaf of bread, a few slices of ham and a litre of milk can cost around $50.00 (R150-00). 

The hard currency shops like the Finnish owned Stockman's, the Irish House, the German owned Colognia and the Italian-style Foodland are but a few of the shops where almost anything is available, from clothing (Mink coats, and every designer label you can imagine, Hugo Boss, Yves St Laurent, Polo etc), to sausages fromAustria, beer from Germany, ready-made microwave dinners from the USA, chicken from Israel, Dutch cheeses and chocolates, and salmon from Norway. 

The international variety of goods in these stores could easily make some stores in South Africa pale into insignificance. Expensive yes, but then again, a visit to these stores gives the lie to the old perception that Moscow today is barren of Western style food. It has been said that these hard currency stores deliberately inflate their prices in order to cash in on the presence of the significantly large foreign community in Moscow.

If on the other hand you want to venture into the Russian shops, you'll probably find a little more than you at first expected. The secret is of course to know which one to go to for which product. The stock in many of these shops is limited and it would be a foolish shopper who believes that that which was on the shelves yesterday will be there the day after. It is advisable to take along a local Muscovite, who can interpret and possibly even help with the price haggling. Things can be slow here. First you pick out the item, then you point out this item to the cashier to whom you pay the roubles. She will give you a receipt which you then take to the counter, point out the item once again and present the cash receipt slip and then you get the object concerned.

If you have time and patience, the Russian shops will surprise you.

Commuting:
Like any city of almost twelve million people, the roads leave a lot to be desired. Your chief activity behind the wheel is to swerve constantly as you try to avoid the potholes, some of which are literally big enough to bury a small car. The traffic is bad, more so in the summers when those who have stored their vehicles throughout the long winters, retrieve them from their places of hibernation, under bridges, in parking lots etc, and head for the streets. 

Foreigners here face a choice of vehicles. Either a Russian-made vehicle, or an imported type. For those who elect the former, you can choose  Niva, a Zhuguli or a Volga. These vehicles abound and while owning one allows for a cheaper repair bill, they do have a baffling propensity to break down at the worst possible moment. 

I have personally witnessed several Zhuguli's (very similar to the old Fiat's) lose their front wheel entirely, not because of a flat tyre, but simply because the wheel has just snapped off its axle. Why, I really don't know. Suffice it is to say that these wheelless cars are an everyday sight.

For those who choose an imported car there are the problems of a delay in spare parts, but more importantly, the inflated costs of repairs can be a factor which could persuade you to stick with local vehicles.

Closely tied to the problems of road commuting, is 01 course the ever present traffic officer, or gaiee, as they are called here. The gaiee are everywhere and while their job is an onerous one, from surviving the short and humid summers to the long, dark and painfully cold winters, the gaiee is ever present at his post. These gaiee are the butt of many jokes and often ridicule. 

They are said to be among the only state officials who can turn traffic control into an openly lucrative business.

When dealing with the gaiee, most of whom do not speak any English, the correct and preferred attitude is one of contrition. To try and challenge these officials can lead to all manners of unpleas-antness, gaiee are authorized to stop anyone for any reason. So, for example, if you have a western car, your chances of being pulled off by the local gaiee are pretty good. You may have done nothing at all, your car may be able to pass the most stringent of road tests, but still, when the gaiee points a little black and white striped stick at you, you'd better stop.

A very good Russian word to learn, is "skolka" - how much! This is good to remember when a particularly tough gaiee is about to threaten you with several hours of traffic instruction at a local night school. Skolka can solve all of that. Suddenly, the icy atmosphere warms to a sense of brotherhood, and as you reach into your wallet, he is all smiles.

Bribery you say? Never!! This is a perfectly acceptable form of paying a "spot fine" . Perhaps the plight of the gaiee is best explained by the anecdote of the Russian gaiee who went to his boss to ask for a raise because he was in need of extra money to fund his daughter's wedding. His boss replied sadly, "look, I can't help you with a pay rise, but look behind that door, you'll find a no-parking sign. Take that for the next weeks, it's worth hundreds!!"

The metro system is excellent. Some would say the best in the world. If its speed and efficiency you're after, Moscow metro fits the bill. In peak hours one train every 48 seconds will convey you with speed to any destination within its 200 km range. While perhaps not being as comfortable nor as clean as those of Washington DC for example, the metro more than makes up for this by the fact that a great many of the underground stations are museum pieces. 

The incredible art and architecture of many of these stations would probably be equal to any masterpiece the West has to offer.

Health Matters:
At time of writing, there is an outbreak of diphtheria in Moscow. This news sent foreigners hurrying to get their shots. The American Medical Centre (AMC) (one of a very few Western medical clinics) inoculated 5000 concerned foreigners over one weekend. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, we too made our way to the AMC. A very cheerful British expatriate nurse told us that the serum would last for ten years. Feeling now strengthened by this news, we are apparently able to mix with all kinds of diphtheria and suffer no consequences.

It is advisable to have diphtheria shots if you are planning a trip to Moscow and if you are planning an extended stay, membership is wise. Membership fees are high, about $800.00 per family, but then again it is comforting to know that the AMC is well equipped to handle most emergencies and will even evacuate you if the need arises.

Moscow remains an interesting city, filled with challenges like any other. Quite literally, the city is changing every day. While to some the changes are too fast, there are those who think that the changes cannot come fast enough. A visitor to Moscow will experience the distinct differences between the old and the new and perhaps be struck by the fact that the former museum of Soviet economic achievements now also houses a showroom of American off-road vehicles.
(To be continued)


Wednesday 6 July 2016

Bruenslis In Bkassa's Bangui


Emperor Bokassa
   
                      By Andre Jaquet

By some quirk of fate my first duties at the Department of Foreign Affairs Head Office included spreading South Africa’s influence in Francophone Africa. This meant intensive shuttle diplomacy, often at inconvenient times, to try and achieve the impossible for a country under apartheid rule. One Christmas in the 70’s I was stuck in the Central African Empire on a hush-hush mission to deliver the latest token of the South African taxpayer’s generosity. This was a sort of Christmas present for Jean Bedel Bokassa, who had crowned himself Emperor.

Bokassa had been foisted on the South African taxpayer by the French government that was tired of funding Bokassa’s Napoleonic dreams. Paris managed to sell the idea of palling up to Bokassa to the South African Cabinet by pointing out that this was a useful means for South Africa to start gaining acceptance in Africa.

Now anyone with distant Swiss ancestors will tell you that Christmas is not Christmas unless you make two full cake tins of Bruenslis. Forget mince pies or kissing under the mistletoe, spurn Christmas pudding with brandy butter and throw the fatted goose or whatever to the cats. As a non-Brit, I am not excited by those reminders of British colonization and I tolerate the traditional South African Christmas braai only because it gives me a good excuse to drink large quantities of Cabernet Sauvignon. But give me a Bruensli and I am all yours.

“What on earth are Bruenslis?” you ask. At this stage, I should warn diabetics to take an extra dose of insulin before reading the following quotation from my mother’s hand-written recipe book:

BRUENSLIS: CHOCOLATE BISCUITS: BONBONS BRUNS
Ingredients:
          250gr of chopped almonds
          250gr of sugar
          2 whites of eggs
          80gr cocoa powder
          4 gr cinnamon.

Mix well. Let the dough rest. Roll out with sugar, cut out.Oven: mild. Just dry the biscuits out.

That sounds easy, unless you try to bake those cookies on a hotplate in an un-air-conditioned hotel room in the middle of the tropical hot season in Bangui, capital of the Central African Empire.

Having bowed and scraped to the Emperor, I returned to my hotel from the palace in the jungle and I somehow managed to put together three whole pseudo-Bruenslis using sugar, Milo and peanuts.  Mind you, I had to eat them with a spoon but I suppose that tradition deserves some sacrifices.

Bruenslis were also a wonderful comfort when I was on Operations Room duty at Head Office one Christmas eve. There was absolutely nothing to do because all colleagues, whether on posting abroad or at home, were doing the sensible thing. That year I fielded just one phone call from a journalist at midnight. The conversation went something like this: “Hello (Munch) this is Foreign Affairs. (Crunch). How can I help you? (Swallow). No, we have not invaded the Comoros Islands over the weekend. Goodbye and a merry Christmas to you too.”


Feeling uncomfortable ...

Leah Tutu ... a wise woman

                 By  Andre Jaquet
 For many people, diplomats are devious, less than frank and above all, they never reveal their true thoughts and intentions.  A widespread aphorism is that a diplomat is an honest man sent abroad to lie for his country. What is not commonly known is that Sir Henry Wooten, the man who coined the phrase, lost his job soon afterwards.

Other definitions abound:
  • Diplomacy is the art of saying nice doggy until you can find a good stone. 
  • A diplomat who says yes means maybe; a diplomat who says maybe means no; a diplomat who says no is no diplomat.
  • A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell so that you enjoy the journey.
  • Diplomacy is the art of letting someone have your way.
  • A diplomat is someone who thinks twice before saying nothing.
  • The most useful language a diplomat can learn is doubletalk.
  • A diplomat is someone who can follow you into a swivel door and emerge ahead of you.

Some in the profession believe that deviousness is a useful means of persuading a host government to take certain actions or adopt certain policies. In his highly readable book, ‘Diplomatic Bag’, Sir John Ure, a distinguished British diplomat, recounts that when Metternich, Chancellor of the Austro Hungarian Empire, received the news that a particularly devious diplomat had died, he remarked: “Now I wonder what he meant by doing that”.  In fact, a diplomat had better hold on to his credibility for dear life if he wants to be effective.  Tell a lie and you will soon be found out and for the rest of your posting you will struggle to regain some credibility.

Of course, in diplomacy as in life, telling the truth is not always easy because defending the indefensible is often part of the job. A distinguished British diplomat, revealed all one day. He was once confronted by a CNN reporter after Margaret Thatcher had issued a statement which was the absolute opposite of what he had told the press the previous day. “Doesn’t that make you feel just a little uncomfortable?” the reporter asked. “My dear fellow,” came the reply, “my government pays me to feel uncomfortable”.

In my experience, telling the truth is often uncomfortable in the short term but without doubt worthwhile in the long run. Keeping on the straight and narrow in your own community is difficult enough but when you change countries every few years, it becomes all too tempting to take short cuts. I often found myself in the increasingly uncomfortable role of trying to defend the indefensible, a technique I had perfected over many years.

The strongest proof I ever had of the existence of my guardian angel is that before my very first posting I had the wisest teacher anyone could wish for.  In 1972 I was transferred to London but I had doubts about whether I should accept the position, given the government’s apartheid policies. Through a common friend, I asked Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s wife, Leah, for her for advice.  

Her reply was brief and to the point: I should accept the post “but be sure to represent ALL South Africans when you get there”. That proved to be quite a challenge but her simple, wise words kept me honest over many years. When you have Ma Leah looking over your shoulder, you can’t go wrong.



Keen envoys get egg on their faces

                                    
Meg Greenfield

                                        
                                                           By Andre Jaquet

Keenness was my second name when I was a junior diplomat responsible for press liaison at the South African Embassy in Washington in the mid-1970s. Remember, those were tough times and all of us wondered whether there wasn’t a better way to earn a living. Like, for instance, being a human cannon ball in a circus. Let me share with you a cameo of my existence at the time.

“There are definitely some advantages in this job and I must enjoy those rather than mope”, I mused. After all here I am, lazily sipping a super South African wine on the terrace of a ritzy restaurant on the Potomac. The evening is balmy and the lovely cherry blossoms compete mildly with wafts of Chanel Number 5.  My Ambassador has asked me to arrange a private, off the record meeting for him with Meg Greenfield of the Washington Post who is on her way to South Africa for an in-depth look at the aftermath of the Soweto riots. She and I are waiting for the arrival of our guest.

Then His Excellency rises to welcome her and without warning launches into a harangue listing the wrongs done in the United States to African Americans by successive white governments. Meg reads the dismay on my face and later over coffee asks me what she will really discover when she travels to South Africa. The best I can do is to mutter: “You will find some things better than you think and some worse”. I was quite proud of the little phrase I had come up with on the spur of the moment.

Five weeks later, the cover of the magazine section of the Washington Post carried a banner headline: “SOUTH AFRICA: IT’S WORSE THAN YOU THINK”.