A SMAC in the Face #39: Good Riddance

In 1944, the German Army began a counter-offensive against the Allies in the Ardennes which came to be known as the Battle of the Bulge as the German armoured thrusts penetrated deep into American lines.  Soon an American contingent of about 11,000 troops from the 101st Airborne Division who had been hastily pushed forward were surrounded in Bastogne.  The besieging German officer asked them to surrender as their position was hopeless.  Gen. McAuliffe’s answer, “Nuts!”  became the stuff of legend particularly as they heroically held out against vastly superior forces for seven days until relieved.  Today the Americans are fighting another battle of the bulge and losing, but that’s a story for another time.

Fast forward to 2022.  Snake Island is a 17 Ha rocky island, 35 km off the south-eastern Ukrainian coast, and it was manned by a contingent of less than 50 Ukrainian soldiers.  It is an insignificant feature, but it effectively controls access to Ukraine’s last free seaport, Odessa.  On the first day of the ‘Special Operation’ as the Russians euphemistically call it, Snake Island was besieged by two Russian warships, one of which was the ill-fated 12,000 ton missile cruiser, Moskva, pride of the Russian Black Sea Fleet.  Via radio, Moskva demanded the garrison’s surrender.  Their response was a non-cryptic Cyrillic, ‘Русский военный корабль, иди на хуй’ (Russian warship, go fuck yourself!).  That bit of heroic repartee cost 13 Ukrainian lives in the ensuing bombardment before surrendering to the Russians.

Since then, Ukraine has got their own back in spades.  The Moskva was later sunk with the loss of many more lives that the Russians refuse to admit to or that it was even hit by Ukrainian missiles.  The Russian forces on the island have been under routine attack by the full range of Ukrainian long-range systems – missiles, Su-27 aircraft and drones – with devastating results.  5 smallish boats of under 100 tons, a tugboat of 1200 tons, 2 helicopters, a badly damaged 10,000 ton logistics ship, several missile defence systems, ammunition supplies and numerous deaths later, the Russians called it a day on 30 June.

Desperate to save face for their embarrassing failure and determined to continue the pretence of holding the moral high ground, a Bloodimir Putin stooge announced that their withdrawal was a gesture of goodwill!

Ja, right.

Isolation Daze

My parents had WWII.  We had to survive conscription and ABBA but the current generation had it easy until Covid came along and they had to be in isolation with their parents for 21 days to start with.   Given the state of my lungs, I went into self-imposed isolation 2 weeks before everyone else.  

Since all restrictions were finally lifted after 2 years and 3 months on Wednesday night, 22 June, it is worthwhile to revisit that brave new world that we entered in late March 2020.  Not only were we under assault by the virus, but it allowed fascist nannies like Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma to rule by fiat.

I decided to start a diary so that if I didn’t survive, it would at least remain as a small pimple on the arse of the human record.

(The early self-isolation is true, the rest is whimsy)

To relive those days, read on.

Day 0, Sat 14 March 2020

I’ve decided to practice isolation.  I reckon if I practice long and hard enough I might get good at it.  It should be a doddle.  After all, it’s not like trying to be a soccer star where you have to start to practice kicking when you’re in your mother’s womb.  Even if you do and you carry on kicking, starting with the dog, you might be just about to break through to the major leagues when you blow your knee and that’s it for your career.  If you were American and you actually suffered from bone spurs, you could switch career paths and go on to become President without practicing at all.  Alternatively, you could become a private eye if American detective thrillers are anything to go by.  Just about every American story that I read about a private dick is an ex-football or baseball player who has bust their knee.  Of course, there’s also the ex-alcoholic bit with the ex-wives and so on.

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Port Elizabeth of Yore: PAG and the Basuto Gun War

The only major Colonial Military Unit formed in Port Elizabeth during the 19th century was the Prince Alfred’s Guards. This unit had already been bloodied in the Battle of Umzintzani on Saturday the 24th February 1877. This battle can be catagorised as the unit’s baptism of fire. In this case, the PAG would be involved in a conflict of a very different nature as many of the Basutos were armed with Martini-Henry rifles that were superior to the Sniders of the colonial forces. Besides this, the magnitude of this campaign was fraught with other difficulties such as concurrent rebellions and uprisings.

The details of the military actions are based upon the book Prince Alfred’s Guards 1856-1966 by Neil Orpen.     

Main picture:  Grand review of the PAG on Donkin Reserve in 1873

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Port Elizabeth of Yore: James Laing’s View of PE in 1831

James Laing was a Scottish missionary who spent the greater part of his life ministering to the needs of the amaXhosa who used the sobriquet indoda ebisithanda -The Man Who Loved Us – to describe him. Even though Laing never stayed for long in Port Elizabeth, as he was merely passing through, he has left us with a verbal sketch of the town together with his view of the town.

Main picture: James Laing

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Port Elizabeth of Yore: Dr Geoffrey McLachlan-Museum Director Extraordinaire

The Port Elizabeth Museum has taken a winding journey using temporary accommodation until it was relocated to purpose-built facility. This location was Bayworld in Humewood.  Instrumental in this final relocation was one of their most noteworthy directors, Dr Geoffrey Roy McLachlan. Through his endeavours, Bayworld, as it is now called, is a scientific repository of the local natural history – birds, mammals, fossils, shells and relics of the early inhabitants of our hinterland. As the Herald in a tribute to Dr Geoff McLachlan put it: “He was internationally renowned as an ornithologist, a respected natural scientist and an imaginative museum director.”

This blog celebrates the life of this outstanding person. This blog has largely been based upon an online obituary.

Main picture: Dr Geoffrey Roy McLachlan

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A SMAC in the Face #38: And the Hits Keep Coming

People don’t like to admit that they are irresistibly drawn to ogle at car accidents – it’s sort of like hardcore car porn.  Of course, I am not a voyeur like those.  I only slow down and gawk for purely technical reasons.  I wish to satisfy my scientific curiosity about the cause and how humans contrive to be so stupid.  It can only be for similar reasons that people continue to devour the news although they know that its going to be relentlessly awful in South Africa.  Again, I hold myself to a higher standard – I do it as it is grist for the mill of my satire.

The past week has been no exception, probably no worse than normal, but I was attracted to an article that stated that the paramedics in the Fort Beautfort area have been on strike for two months.  There is no consequence management as they report to work and get paid but they do nothing.  Nice non-work if you can get it.  I now wear a neck brace because I shake my head so often at the shenanigans that pass for acceptable behaviour in this blighted country, and that’s being polite about it.

I have some issues with Musk but on the whole he’s a breath of fresh air in this pathetic new world and he cuts through all the bullshit that disguises itself as real issues.   For instance, he’s had enough of his staff working from home and he wants them in the office for at least 40 hours per week or take a hike.  As he communicated this via Twitter, someone tweeted him, accusing him of ‘antiquated practices’.  His succinct response took no prisoners – “They should pretend to work somewhere else.”  Game, set and match.  Wow, we could do with a bit of hard-arsed management.

The previous week set the tone for me.  The Auditor General’s report on municipal finances showed that we are a flailing state if not a failing state and on track to be a failed state.   This week the news cycle has been relentless – horrific vehicle accidents with 13 killed in one, truck blockages of major transport routes, Sowetan protests, one of Gqeberha’s dams empty and another days away, the second police Lieutenant-General to be charged with serious fraud in the last few weeks, warning of an e-coli tsunami given the parlous state of our water treatment plants and this is over and above the standard weekly fare of murder for every reason imaginable, rape, fraud, political mayhem in the ANC and the rise of the RET faction, loadshedding, ad bloody finitum.

The only bright spot was the much-delayed final Zondo report on State Capture, and it’s a page turner – it makes War and Peace look like an elementary reader.  It remains to be seen if it’ll just end up as a doorstopper in some back office of the NPA.  It’s a long road yet before we see this cast of rogues behind bars but at least they will be forever tainted by Zondo’s words – corruption and state capture writ large.

Even if the NPA can be resourced to tackle just the fallout from this in our lifetime, corruption has become so entrenched at all levels that it will be generations before we can rid ourselves of this scourge and that’s if we have the will to do it.  Even if we’re successful there, corruption is just the tip of the turd that’s floating in the cesspool that constitutes SA.  There are all the other forms of criminal behaviour that are the warp and weft of our society and then there’s all the developmental issues – housing, water, electricity, sanitation, jobs, eradication of pit toilets, also ad bloody infinitum.

Port Elizabeth of Yore: The Buntons make their Mark

Today the deeds of two Buntons more than a century ago are known by less than several dozen people yet in their heyday they were both well-known but for vastly different reasons. Walter Bunton converted the Grand Hotel into the Bunton’s Grand Hotel, not a mere name change but a conversion into the greatest hotel in the emerging town, fit for the great and good of the Cape, the British Empire and beyond. Upon Walter’s death, his son, Henry, would assume control of the hotel.

On the other hand, Walter’s sister, Harriet Meyer, nee Bunton, had divergent interests. The one for which she made her name was promoting the building of an equestrian monument to commemorate the hundreds of thousands of horses killed during the Anglo Boer War.

Then their life’s candle would gutter and be snuffed out and the light which they shone on the world would gradually fade away, eventually to be forgotten. This blog is an attempt to correct this omission from history.

 Main picture:  Bunton’s Grand Hotel on the corner of Belmont Terrace and Prospect Hill. It was the most important hotel of its time.

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A SMAC in the Face #37:  ONO, It’s Laundry Day

In the old days, OMO washing powder advertised that it makes ‘whites bright’.  Definitely, that had to go and they’ve replaced it with some rather anaemic slogans.  Two-fisted punch was obviously a non-starter.  Not only was it already taken, it would make the laundry room feel like an unsafe space and the TV adverts would have to carry a trigger warning.  So, we are left with The Power of 10 Hands and Tough Stain Removal.

No matter what your preference is, there seems to be no detergent, mechanism or intervention that can deliver clean Municipal Audit Outcomes.  We are into the 29th year of the ‘New and Improved South Africa’ and the overall municipal finances are a disaster area.  Granted a Municipality has a very difficult job but, of all its functions, the easiest is to financially account for what it did do irrespective of whether it’s failing its mandate.  Accounting is a mechanistic process.  There is no need to reconcile conflicting human and political interests, being creative with solutions to intractable problems, extracting income from recalcitrant or poverty-stricken ratepayers, planning and regulation, generating and realising a vision, etc.  Once the accounting system has been set up properly, it’s mainly a case of following the recipe. 

Last week saw the Auditor-General release her annual report on this cesspool.  Of the 257 Municipalities, 25% (Western Cape – 3%) had going-concern problems.  Even more frightening was that 75% could not provide quality financial statements.  The Western Cape achieved 22 (73%) unqualified audit outcomes while the rest of South Africa received only 19 (8.4%)!  25 Municipalities (Western Cape – 0) seemed to take the modern trend of the paperless office to the point that the Auditor-General could not even begin to make adverse findings and just disclaimed them.  We do not know if this lack of paperwork is wilful to obscure corruption or due to incompetence and slackness.  I suspect a combination.  Most disaffected whities would automatically blame corruption, but that is contradicted by the creditors books which run at an average of 275 days (excluding the WC – 63 days).  Normally deals involving corruption are sorted out fast.  Also, the debtors books, running at 220 days (excluding the WC – 49 days), indicate that the financial systems have all but collapsed.   In the Free State, the creditors and debtors books are running at eye-watering 483 and 563 days respectively and for the Northern Cape they are 527 and 167.  There are many other metrics but they all tell the same grim story, just from different angles – barring the Western Cape which stands out as a beacon, the financial systems of the municipalities are chaotic and dysfunctional and that they haven’t collapsed yet is a miracle.

But what is glaringly obvious is the lack of consequence management otherwise these problems would not persist year after year.  Maybe we do need some two-fisted punch after all.

Port Elizabeth of Yore: Annerley Terrace

In the 19th century Annerley Terrace was amongst the most historic roads in the emerging town of Port Elizabeth. Many of the newly minted elite resided here on what was previously the Garrison’s land. Like most streets on the Hill, as it was called, Annerley Terrace, was short, running from Gordon Terrace to Bird Street.

Main picture: Annerley Terrace in1867. In the foreground is a camp on the Military Reserve. Behind it on the left is the house built c1850 for William Henderson. but later it was the home of H. H. Solomon. Then come the homes of Sir Frederick Blaine (“Bay View House”) & Sir Edgar Walton (“Annerley House”) whch is still standing. In the centre is “Annerley Terrace”, built by 1864 for John Paterson

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