Transit in Cairo

Ant Greenham, Amman

Meintjeskop Courier Volume, 1994

I was on my way from Amman to Nairobi for the Heads of Mission meeting and had.to pass through Cairo airport in the process.

Having identified the transit area, which was a little distance from where the bus dropped off the disembarking passengers, I joined the queue which had formed in front of a kind of mini passport control point which was next to a large hall filled with orange plastic chairs. I remember thinking that it could be quite interesting if the place was full of people, which at that stage it was not.

At the control point, I was relieved of my air ticket and diplomatic passport and told (in English) to sit down. I chose a place as close as possible to the Egyptian officials and proceeded to watch developments. It was immediately apparent that my guarantee of an onward journey together with my means of identification was to leave the area together with those of the other passengers. In fact officials kept coming and going with piles and piles of passports, some with air tickets, some without. Some even had boarding cards which indicated an imminent reunification with the owners, although it soon became clear that the order in which one's passport and ticket was surrendered bore no resemblance to the order of return.

Before long, we were joined by a large number of passengers from Nigeria who were on their way to Mecca. Some argued with the officials, but in vain. Everyone was dispatched into the large hall with the orange plastic chairs. Some sat, unperturbed. Others milled around. Most wore slip-slops, some with socks, although one little girl with a running nose was barefoot. There were many long, West African robes and on heads, apart from a cap with the words "I'm a Muslim" (in Arabic) embroidered on it, were a large number of white bags from the company "Sacs and Motors" in Kano with the assurance "Nobody bags it better".

The loudspeaker informed us (in very clear Arabic, English and French) that the flight for Jeddah was to depart. This led to some consternation among the document-bereft Mecca-bound pilgrims, many of whom stood up and did their best to fill the small space between me and the officials. This didn't help, however,and after 30 minutes many tired and sat down right there, on the floor. In time they were given their documents, one by one, and to the best of my knowledge successfully made the Hajj.

Others were less fortunate. I was seated next to a Thai who had been separated from his group. They 'had all departed for the hotel as they were only to leave for Bangkok the next day. He, however, was stuck in transit and no amount of inquiry had changed his circumstances after 2and a half hours. Another man in the hall was confronted by an official (who was backed up by four others who accompanied him to the recipient of the confrontation), but I was not able, determine the final outcome of the interchange. Some individuals managed to leave the hall, apparently on an errand to take control of the situation (and their documents), but they inevitably returned and resumed their wait.          .

Forty minutes before my flight left, which was a good three hours after I entered the hall (and on the wrong side of midnight) I was much relieved to see a familiar-looking passport, together with my air ticket and boarding pass in the hand of an official and I was able to proceed on my journey.

I really have nothing to complain about. Within their system, the officials were polite and helpful and if one doesn't mind having a perfect stranger in a foreign place take your essential documents and disappear, it's probably not a bad idea to relax and enjoy the service. 

Een nag op die trein na Lapland

Kosie Venter

Meintjeskop-Koerier Mei 1992 

Dis September 1987. Die plek, Hesinki en die tyd sesuur die aand.  Sieta en ek het sopas ons karretjie op die trein gelaai en was besig om ons tuis te maak in 'n netjiese engerieflike kompartement. Ons het lankal uitgesien na hierdie reis na Lapland en daarvandaan na Noorwee om te gaan kyk hoe lyk Noordkaap die mees noordelike punt in die wereld waar mens met 'n motor kan kom.

Die trein begin beweeg, en soos goeie Suid-Afrikaners gewoond is om te maak, kom die whiskybottel te voorskyn vir daardie sundowner (terwyl die son hierdie tyd van die jaar nie eintlik opkom of ndergaan niel).  Netnou sal ons die restaurant opsoek, 'n heerlike Finse vismaal geniet en dan lekker vroeg in die kooi klim vir die nagreis na Kolari in die noorde. More vat ons dan die pad deur Lapland na Noord- kaap. 

Daar is seker van ons kollegas wat Fins aanqelee r het, maar ons twee, wat tog meer as twee tale magtig is, het tou opgegooi na enkele maande se probeer. Tel kon ons darem want in winkels was dit nodig om min of meer te weet hoeveel 'n ding kos. Een twee drie vier Uksi kaksi, kolme nalja en so aan. 

Die woord vir twee wat in Afrikaans nie baie mooi op die oor val nie, hoor jy in byna elke sin, want dis twee, dubbel, twintig, tweehonderd en so aan. Nou probeer ek die kennisgewings agter die deur ontsyfer om te sien waar die restaurant is, maar dis nog Griekser as Homerus se Odyssee. 

Die gangetjie is ook maar soos alle ander nou en harde wande wat jou elmboe werlt as die trein so skommel. Gelukkig is die 1aaste deur agter gesluit anders kan 'n man jou mos misgis en ingedagte uitstap op die groen Finse landskapl Reg geraai geen restaurant nie. Ek kom 'n man met 'n uniform en ' n keps tee met so 'n lys en 'n pot- lood. Moet die kondukteur wees. 

Hy praat nie Engels, Duits of Afrikaans nie. Hy verstaan darem die woord restaurant, maar uit sy stortvloed van woorde lei ek 'n ontkennende toontjie af. Miskien, dag ek in my slimheid, word die wa later aangehaak. Finne hou daarvan om laat te eet. 

Jongmense in Finland is oor die algemeen Engels magtig, en intelligente ou wat ek is, soek ek nou so iemand wat my dalk kan inlig. Ja, daar kom sy. Mooi en blond.  Nee, se sy, hier is nie 'n restaurant nie. Volgens haar is dit glo te gevaarlik want die Finne ken nie hulle maat met die Koskenkorva (vodka) of wyn nie, en as hulle more-oggend die pad vat kan dit foeter. 

Mense bring maar hulle eie kosmandjie saam wat in elk geval die nodige bottel medisyne bevat. In die kompartement is daar darem 'n karaf water wat die whisky moet verdun. Sieta het ook in ons nagtassie 'n paar beskuitjies en 'n stukkie kaas ontdek. Soos die Skrif se"'n droe bête met rus daarby" dit was ons aandete in plaas van daardie heerlike salm met al die "goodies" wat daarby hoort.  

Volgende oggend is die keel maar  droog en die tong lelik aangetas gaan van die kaas of, miskien die water uit die karaf wat toe al op is. Ek is weer soek na water – ons treine en al die ander wat ek ke het so ‘n groot fles in die hoek vandie gang waar drinkwater gehou word.Nee,niks! Die vrou van my keer ‘n man voor wat met sy karaf water bedel by elke kompartement. 

HY sal in die hemel kom, want hy skink vir ons so ‘n halwe glasie.  Moes seker aan dieselfde kwaal as ons  het begrip het, en het begrip vir die probleem gehad.  

Halfelf by Kolari aangekom, moet ons half spring om van die trein af te kom, want daar is nie 'n platform nie, lyk nes die saaidings in die ou dae in Wes-Transvaal. Dit sif so effens en dis koud.  Die wagkamer is interessant: 'n groot Lapse tent met 'n vuur in die middel en bankies teen die kante. 

Eindelik op pad. Maar nou is die vind van 'n eetplek dringend noodsaaklik. Hier is 'n plek wat soos ‘n keffie lyk. 'n Vriendelike gesette moederlike tipe agter die toonbank. Die uiteinde van die taalprobleem was dat ons aldrie in die kombuis gestaan en eiers bak het en in die proses die name vir die verskillende produkte probeer leer het. 

Hierdie tyd van die jaar is Lapland pragtig met sy roesbruin blare wat soos 'n goue blinkende see lyk. Kort-kort moet jy stilhou sodat troppe takbokke, soos beeste of skape, oor die pad kan stap. Die parmantige leierbul vooraan met sy pragtige horings fier in die lug. 

Hier en daar is daar besienswaardighede langs die pad. Op een plek in die bos is 'n groot uitgeholde klip waarin volgens oorlewering, 'n man een nag saam met I n beer teen die koue geskuil het. Hier in die woud kom jy diep onder die indruk van die oorweldigende stilte van Lapland. Jy kan die stilte hoor. Geen geluid, nie eers van 'n voel nie. 

Op die Noordpoolsirkel (Napapiiri) is daar 'n groot toeriste-aantreklikheid. 'n Bord met verskillende tale vertel jou dis die poolsirkel en in die winkeltj ies kan jy van alles en nog wat koop - takbokhorings en velIe, fleurige Laphooftooisels en massas kitsch. In 'n kampie loop rendiere, en die grootste een heet Rudolf. Dan besef jy dis Kersvader se blyplek. En gou merk jy die vriendelike dik ou man op waar hy praatj ies met veral kinders maak.  Sy groet bestaan uit drie geluide "Hoi-ho-ho! " Ja, hy bestaan werklik, hy woon op die Noordpoolsirkel en hulle se hy vlieg regtig met sy slee en takbokke deur die lug!

Revival of Ancient Games in Greece

Nemes Games 2016

Meintjeskop Ditaba No 4/2000

Apparently, Ambassadors’ tasks include not only the normal. highly official things we earthlings expect of them, but they also have to run marathons, and even barefoot! In this year's Games Ambassador Jacobs took part as one of the judges and runners!      .

The discovery in the seventies of an ancient stadium in Nemea, in Southern Greece, by Professor Stephen Miller, an American archaeologist, led to the revival of the ancient games in Nemea. A Greek-South African, Konstantinos Peppas, was the driving force behind the revival of the Modern Nemead Games. Less than a month after the first modern Nemead in 1996, Peppas, who was the Mayor of Nemea at the time, tragically died in an accident.

The Greek Minister of Culture, Mr T Pangalos, was among the dignitaries who attended the opening ceremony of this year's modern Nemead ("Nemea 2000") which took place on 3 and 4 June. Hundreds of spectators and athletes from more than 40 countries participated in the event. Nine Ambassadors (representing Colombia, Denmark, lndia. Morocco, Romania, South Africa (Ambassador Dawie Jacobs), Slovakia, United Kingdom and the United States) participated in the 100-meter event dressed in ancient tunics and of course barefoot! 

The Ambassadors of Canada and South Africa also participated successfully in the 7,5-km marathon in the "Footsteps of Herakles".

Eight Ambassadors also officiated at the colourful closing ceremony: seven as judges dressed in a black himation, a laurel crown, and a switch with which to flog transgressors, while the eighth (the Chilean Ambassador) acted the role of the priestess.

During an unveiling ceremony of a plaque in honour of the late Konstantinos Peppas, the South African Ambassador to Greece, Mr Dawie Jacobs, said: "The life and work of Konstantinos Peppas personified the outstanding qualities of the longstanding and warm relations between South Africa and Greece. He was born in Ancient Nemea, later spent 17 of his best years in South Africa and returned to his native land to plough back in his life's experience to the benefit of his people. 

His story is the story of so many Greeks who have adopted South Africa as their second motherland.

Since the first Greek, Nicolas Vlassopoulos, settled in Cape Town more than 150 years ago, South Africa has become a very popular destination for Greek people. Today the Hellenic Community in South Africa members more than a hundred thousand and they are making a constructive contribution in all spheres of life.

The life and work of Konstantinos  Peppas fills a perfect chapter in the history of South African- Hellenic relations. It reflects the special chemistry between South Africans and Greeks and illustrates how individuals could positively and constructively contribute to the strengthening of ties between countries and nations

His contribution lives on - not only in the hearts and minds of those who knew him, but also through the symbolism of the revived Nemean Games in which he had played such a major role.

May the Plateia Konstantinos Peppas also serve as a symbol of the positive contributions of all Greek South Africans over the years to the improvement of relations between our countries and to friendship among nations in general.

A remarkable man (Part 4)

By Herbert Beukes

Parliament

Pik Botha was seldom criticised for matters related to foreign affairs, but although popular among the voters and even among segments of the disenfranchised, he often gave the impression of not belonging in the Party structures. Unlike some of his colleagues of the time, he could never relish intra-Party squabbles across the aisle. To the observer in the gallery he appeared ill-at-ease and uncomfortable in that role. The same could not be said of Pik’s performance as a public speaker in parliament. Addressing the House on a foreign policy matter, he was eloquent and skilled in delivery, particularly when he was dealing with his budget vote.

In defending his government against local critics and hoping to gain a receptive ear, Pik Botha was fond of cataloguing his own exertions - his long and late hours at work and frequent absences from home and family, being in the firing line of the UN for his country’s sake, taking on the moribund Organisation of African Unity in forceful reprimands, etc – and casting them as efforts to fend off foreign hostility toward the South African nation and the country’s interests. Whatever the intent, the outcome was mostly effective and because he had always enjoyed a good relationship with the press, the public was kept aware of these doings.

But, alas, the Hansard editor! Pik was his annoyer-in-chief, a serial “infringer” of Hansard protocol. Hansard was the official record of all verbal proceedings in parliament. The way things worked was that the Hansard office would let the speaker in a debate have a draft copy of the text within 48 hours of delivery, as a courtesy for technical clean up, i.e. dotting i’s and crossing t’s. Unlike newspaper copy, substantive changes to Hansard texts were not allowed lest the meaning was changed, which would defeat the purpose of accurate record keeping. Pik’s edited drafts were returned to the Hansard office as pieces worthy of poetry. As accomplices in the editing, we viewed the sparring with the Hansard office good naturally.

His Party’s whips had their hands full in getting Pik Botha to grace the debating chambers with his presence more regularly. He was spoiled with a cabinet portfolio that provided good reasons for staying above the fray of Party politics and attending to his primary functions of managing the country’s foreign relations. Dealing with the affairs of State vis-à-vis foreign governments yielded benefits of a different nature to the government than humdrum Party politics. Ironically, parliament was also the arena where Pik was at his most vulnerable because of the rigid system of seniority, hierarchy, its unending caucusing and political and professional jealousies. 

He experienced several low blows in the House but nothing as painful as when he was forced by president PW Botha to apologise in a packed chamber, in the full glare of the media, for a spontaneous and prescient statement that he would be prepared to serve in a future government under a black president.

It was customary for ministers to submit contributions for the president’s (formerly the prime minister’s) annual statement at the opening of parliament. Between assignments at the embassy in Washington during the late 70s and early 80s, I caused some uncomfortable moments for Mr Botha with remarks that I prepared for possible use by then prime minister PW Botha. One particular phrase had unintended consequences when the leader of the Progressive Federal Party, Dr Van Zyl Slabbert needled the prime minister because of its political ambiguity.

When Pik got back from a “courtesy” session in parliament where he had listened to the official Opposition’s opening salvo against the prime minister’s address, he wanted to see me right away. PW Botha had used the phrase “participatory democracy” as an idea for South Africa’s divided society and the PFP leader in his rebuttal speech had put Mr Botha on the spot for his use and understanding of the phrase. The sharp-witted Slabbert explained that he had done some research on the phrase in context and found one of the earliest references traceable to the Communist Party in France! This was a full-blooded quandary and unforeseen. PW wanted to know from Pik how best to explain the dilemma.

Pik Botha made for his office and summoned me. “ Kyk nou in watter gemors het jy die eerste minister laat beland!” (See what a mess you have landed the prime minister in!) “By the way, what exactly did you have in mind with ‘participatory democracy’?” I did the best I could and even went back to my notes. Eventually it was not really a big problem for the prime minister, although the moment understandably annoyed Pik.

It was a continuing challenge to Pik’s conscience – of which he was often reminded in and around his office – to respect Party loyalty and at the same time not to compromise the belief in the principle of fairness which had inspired so many of us when he took office. It was not always easy and sometimes his complicity in failure was disappointing. I recall one such incident with sadness for its ungenerous spirit.

The topic was what was then commonly referred to as “the South West Africa case” and it cropped up as part of the annual department of foreign affairs budget vote. The debate soon lost its structure and became something of a political brawl, but it was the means of combat that was unfortunate. The two main combatants were Pik and Colin Eglin, the principal spokesman on foreign affairs for the opposition Progressive Federal Party. The contentious point related to criticism of the South African government and its foreign minister by then US ambassador at the United Nations, Don McHenry. In the debate Mr Eglin recounted this criticism. Now there was nothing wrong with Mr Eglin bringing this to parliament’s attention but the emphasis soon shifted to impugnment that lost touch with the logic of the debate.

Relying on his superior information resources – office staff at the UN – Pik Botha was able to disclose to the House, with just a touch of hauteur, that Colin Eglin had elicited the criticism from McHenry in a telephone call to the ambassador, in order to use it against the government. Pik Botha was now more interested in emphasising how Mr Eglin had acquired the criticism than what McHenry had or had not said. The message was clear: a foreign government official had been employed as an accomplice against his own government. Mr Eglin’s motives and loyalties stood implicated as Pik Botha delivered to the Party. He was clinical. He had the whip hand. Colin Eglin had been delivered for the fall.

But in the context of the minister’s signature appeals for change and fairness, it was not a proud moment. This was not the same foreign minister who had chosen to save the black man from extradition to the Matanzimas nor the Pik Botha who acknowledged the wrong in the justice system’s conviction of John Matisson for speaking the truth in the To the Point scandal nor the man who would later stand up for Beyers Naudé in a prejudiced political climate.

The best way of convincing men of error is not so much to denounce the error as to proclaim the truth more clearly. Anon