Day 154 Thursday, August 27 - Relief!
After a week without Internet, I’m back in business. What a relief!What hasn’t changed is the trend for Covid-19 infections and deaths that continue to climb.
Worldwide (Map)
August 27 – 24,206,820 confirmed infections; 826,59 deaths
August 20 – 22,174,000 confirmed infections; 782,000 deaths
August 13 – 20,621,000 confirmed infections; 749,400 deaths
US (Map)
August 27 – 5,824,200 confirmed infections; 179,756 deaths
August 20 - 5,500,000 confirmed infections; 171,850 deaths
August 13 - 5,198,000 confirmed infections; 166,050 deaths
SA (Coronavirus portal)
August 27 – 615,700 confirmed infections; 13,502 deaths
August 20 – 592,150 confirmed infections 12,265 deaths
August 13 – 569,000 confirmed infections 11,010 deaths
What's more, my family on the Gulf Coast near Houston is safe, too.
According to the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, more than 1.1 million acres have been destroyed – with total acreage burned larger than the state of Rhode Island. California is also experiencing two of the three largest fires in its history.
August 20 – 592,150 confirmed infections 12,265 deaths
August 13 – 569,000 confirmed infections 11,010 deaths
***
What else is new on the Covid-19 front? South Africa’s chief Covid-19 scientist, Professor Salim Abdool Karim has confirmed that Covid-19 reinfections can occur within months. “There is now clear evidence of two separate viral infections [in a single person],” he said as the news emerged from Hong Kong on 25 August. In July 2020, news reports suggested a case of reinfection in South Africa, but this was not confirmed by research.Be careful out there….
After travelling to Spain, the Hong Kong resident contracted a second viral strain 4.5 months after first being diagnosed with Covid-19. “Antibody responses can decline and reinfections can occur,” said Abdool Karim in a briefing with doctors on Monday night.
News blues…
Hurricane Laura passed by Houston, Texas but it’s on track to wreak storm surge damage 30 miles inland of Texas and Louisiana. Up to 10,000 people evacuated in east Texas. They can now return home.What's more, my family on the Gulf Coast near Houston is safe, too.
***
Friends in parts of California say smoke pollution has decreased from the records set earlier in the week. Fires, however, continue unabated. According to the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, more than 1.1 million acres have been destroyed – with total acreage burned larger than the state of Rhode Island. California is also experiencing two of the three largest fires in its history.
Cal Fires map
***
The Lincoln Project: Adultery (1.00 mins)
Daughters (1:00 mins)
VoteVets - A Real Commander-in-Chief (1:17 mins)
Country First (0:55 mins)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
In June I planted seeds with the goal of getting a head start on a veggie garden. All winter, I babied the seeds, nurtured them, talked to them as they sprouted.They did so well that, over the weekend, I transplanted snap peas, pole beans, zucchini, and onions seedlings from the cold frame into what I’d hoped was a monkey-free section of the garden. That is, not in the area dedicated to veggies, but amid flowers, shrubs, and indigenous plants. This, to hide them from monkeys and prevent damage.
Alas, today, monkeys uncovered my attempts to disguise. They pulled out snap peas and pole beans seedlings. I’ve attempted to replant, but I fear the seedlings will not recover.
Additionally, a dog dug up succulents I’d nurtured in pots since autumn. Back then, they were mere leaves or stem cuttings that I hoped would germinate. They did. Until today.
Succulents are hardier than veggies; perhaps there’s hope.
It’s also true that, as I’ve worked towards moving my mother – and one dog - into a retirement care center and taken steps to sell this house, my relationship with the garden has morphed.
I love gardening. Living on a houseboat presents limited opportunities to garden.
While in South Africa, I take full advantage of the garden.
This year, as I created a cold frame, used it to germinate seedlings, prepared the garden for winter, I’ve known I’d likely not benefit from my efforts.
Since I’ve never sold property in South Africa, I’ve discussed how to do so with the lawyer. I seek a realtor referred by the lawyer to smooth the process.
Simultaneously, I’m in two minds about garden mishaps with monkeys and dogs. One part of me is frustrated at ongoing damage. Another part tries to shrug it off. After all, the new owners may not even appreciate vegetable gardens… goldfish in ponds, succulents…
Nevertheless, I’d like to hand over a healthy garden, one the new owners will enjoy for years to come.
Day 153 Wednesday, August 26 - G&T
Yet another day with no Internet connection at the house.I visited a local café and, for the price of one decaf latte and one toasted cheese muffin, I caught up on online business, posted on this blog, dabbled in the news – until my laptop battery ran low and Eskom began a 2.5 hour session of load shedding.
News blues…
The Republican National Convention. What to say? My brief glimpse into goings-on suggests a marathon Revision-of-History. Three days to reversion events of the last three and a half years, pit reality against Trump fantasy, wrap lies up in the Stars and Stripes, and hope The Base doesn’t notice and votes for him anyway.***
Fox News refuses to show a 30-second ad by the American Federation of Teachers union, “Enough is Enough” declaring it “inaccurate.”
AFT slams Trump and Senate Majority leader Mitch McConnell for what the union says is failure to provide adequate personal protective equipment to educators and plan for a safe return to public schools during the coronavirus outbreak. “Enough is Enough, this November say ‘no’ to Trump and McConnell’s chaos.
***
The Lincoln Project:The Wall (0:55 mins)
Evil (0:55 mins)
Comedienne Sarah Cooper riffs on Trump at DNC (1.20 mins)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
Unlike some US states, liberal California allows grocery stores to sell limited selections of wine and liquor. Liquor laws, however, differ from state to state.In Texas, for example, sales of beer are permitted between 7am and midnight on all days except Sunday; Sunday sales are permitted between midnight and 1am and between 12pm and midnight (excepting certain sales of beer with food).
In the so called “dry” states - Kansas, Mississippi, and Tennessee — entirely dry by default - counties specifically must authorize the sale of alcohol in order for it to be legal and subject to state liquor control laws. Alabama specifically allows cities and counties to elect to go dry by public referendum. Other states permit sales by country, that is, some counties are “dry”, others not.
Complicated.
Apart from the ban on alcohol due to Covid, in KZN alcohol beverages are not sold in grocery stores but in specialized “bottle stores” or “off sales.”
I’m not interested enough in alcohol to visit a bottle store regularly to purchase alcohol, and it’s been six months or more since I’ve had wine, beer, cocktail, or a mixed drink.
Today, grocery shopping at a small mall, I noticed a bottle store and, out of nowhere, longed to taste a margarita, frozen. I entered the store – masked, of course – offered my hands for the doorperson to spritz, then scanned the shelves.
The tequila section comprised 3 unknown brands, all 2 liter size, priced around R200 per bottle. Cheap for booze in comparison to US prices, but more than I wanted to pay. No tequila offered in smaller bottles, and my dreams of a margarita dashed.
“What about a smaller size bottle of gin, say Tanqueray gin?” I asked.
I’m not interested enough in alcohol to visit a bottle store regularly to purchase alcohol, and it’s been six months or more since I’ve had wine, beer, cocktail, or a mixed drink.
Today, grocery shopping at a small mall, I noticed a bottle store and, out of nowhere, longed to taste a margarita, frozen. I entered the store – masked, of course – offered my hands for the doorperson to spritz, then scanned the shelves.
The tequila section comprised 3 unknown brands, all 2 liter size, priced around R200 per bottle. Cheap for booze in comparison to US prices, but more than I wanted to pay. No tequila offered in smaller bottles, and my dreams of a margarita dashed.
“What about a smaller size bottle of gin, say Tanqueray gin?” I asked.
No Tanqueray in small bottles either.
Gin and tonic sounded delicious.
I paid, asked her to remove the packaging, and stuffed 3 small bottles of Bloedlemoen gin into my backpack.
Limes, I knew, awaited me in the ‘fridge back at home.
Alas, it had been so long since I’d enjoyed a gin and tonic, I’d forgotten to purchase tonic water.
After a quick drive to the local grocery store, I enjoyed my first alcoholic beverage in months.
Delicious.
Day 152 Tuesday, August 25 - Complain-aton
Still no Internet.The problem, according to the ISP host, is “weird” – accompanied by an emoji to depict puzzlement. He gave me three different log-in combinations to try; none logged me in.
No Internet connection means, 1) no convenient online payment for airtime – and that means limited or no cell phone communication. (In South Africa, one pays separately for airtime - phone, etc., - and data - Internet access, etc. I find the overlap between the two mysterious.) I could drive to the grocery store to buy airtime, but … I’m supposed to be up and running “soon” 2) no reaching out to family in California frustrated with the slow pace of my current renter’s exit. (He had committed to moving out last Sunday, but delayed – and frustrated my daughter who’d taken three days off work ”for nothing”, 3) no easy email to/from the care center my mother was supposed to move into, 4) no easy online payment to the care center to secure her room, 5) one email from the care center matron explained that, because she hadn’t heard from me, she’d given the room to another incoming resident, 6) no blog posts for 5 days blows my commitment to myself to post each day during Lockdown. (Posting provides me focus and maintains my equilibrium during this stressful time.)
News blues…
No news is good news?I have no television and – without Internet – limited ability to follow local and international goings-on. This “enquiring mind” wants to know:
Is Donald Trump still occupying the White House?
If so, has Donald Trump blown up the US and/or the world yet?
How go his escalating efforts to maintain ego-integrity by diminishing other human beings?
How many confirmed cases of Covid-19 in the US? In South Africa? In the world? How many dead from Covid-19? How fares the race for an effective vaccine?
How fares the conspiracy-theorists’ world of whackjobbery?
How fare the fires and air quality in my adopted state, California?
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
With my mother potentially losing her room at the care center due to my lack of Internet connection, today’s second item of business was to nail down that confirmation.
First item of business: getting online.
The ISP host arrived at 9:30am, checked my laptop, confirmed it was disconnected. Soon, he uncovered a problem with the router…and carried that off to his office to troubleshoot. He’d call me, he said, with the diagnosis, “soon.”
Next pressing item of business: visit matron and the care center. The tone of the email I’d received from the matron was such that I’d worried all available rooms had been taken. Not so.
The matron showed me still available rooms: one looked over the inner, enclosed courtyard garden and got morning sunshine. Two looked over the parking lot and, at first glance, were, I thought, less desirable. But… the big advantage? Zebra, warthog, impala, and other animals frequented the area.
The matron pointed through the window to discrete piles of animal dung outside and said, “You see evidence of the wild animals visiting. It’s removed each day. Next day, the animals are back, grazing and pooping ….” “
The ISP host arrived at 9:30am, checked my laptop, confirmed it was disconnected. Soon, he uncovered a problem with the router…and carried that off to his office to troubleshoot. He’d call me, he said, with the diagnosis, “soon.”
Next pressing item of business: visit matron and the care center. The tone of the email I’d received from the matron was such that I’d worried all available rooms had been taken. Not so.
The matron showed me still available rooms: one looked over the inner, enclosed courtyard garden and got morning sunshine. Two looked over the parking lot and, at first glance, were, I thought, less desirable. But… the big advantage? Zebra, warthog, impala, and other animals frequented the area.
The matron pointed through the window to discrete piles of animal dung outside and said, “You see evidence of the wild animals visiting. It’s removed each day. Next day, the animals are back, grazing and pooping ….” “
Perfect. My mom will appreciate that. She’ll take this room.”
It’s not as if the room abuts the parking lot. An indigenous shade tree and a strip of indigenous plants interspersed with garden ornaments offer visual interest. Plus, the room is close to a bathroom and the kitchenette with a ‘fridge where she can store Jessica’s delicious giblet meals.
Before I departed the retirement community, I asked for – and received - permission to walk the extensive grounds. Prior to Lockdown, I’d regularly walked the g
rounds and swum in the community pool.
It’s not as if the room abuts the parking lot. An indigenous shade tree and a strip of indigenous plants interspersed with garden ornaments offer visual interest. Plus, the room is close to a bathroom and the kitchenette with a ‘fridge where she can store Jessica’s delicious giblet meals.
Before I departed the retirement community, I asked for – and received - permission to walk the extensive grounds. Prior to Lockdown, I’d regularly walked the g
 |
| Winter view - click to enlarge. |
The grounds are both safe for a solitary woman to walk and the Game Walk route winds into a lovely valley.
Today, pressed for time, I did not take Game Walk but wandered up a hill upon which rested herd of Blesbok.
I also startled a pair of bushbuck, and enjoyed listening to and watching masked weaver birds as they built this year’s nests.
Spring is on the way.
Spring is on the way.
***
 |
| Blesbok - click to enlarge |
A parallel to Eskom’s load shedding?
“Cry the beloved country.”
Day 151 Monday, August 24 - Frothing at the mouth!
No Internet connection since Thursday night! More than 96 hours!The ISP host came by at 9:30am today, changed the password, and said I’d be up and running “soon.”
In my world, “soon” means within the hour.
In his world, it means … well, I’m not sure.
Around 3pm, I was briefly connected – then shut down again, due to – irony of ironies – a Telkom error message warning, ““your connection is not safe.” (Telkom is the national communications grid. I’d cancelled Telkom landline accounts in this household due to inefficiency and lack of customer support. Alas, my Internet account relies on Telkom. Telkom gets the last laugh.
Yet again, I contracted the ISP host. He responded, “There may be a delay. Please give it another half hour.”
Soon after, Eskom – the national electrical power grid – began load shedding; no electricity for the next 2.5 hours!
This is akin to enjoying a walk when a vehicle veers off the road, crashes into you and knocks you into a ditch, whereupon a giant bird poops on you, causes massive infection that requires amputation of one arm and two hands – and you can’t work on your laptop anymore…. At last, Internet disconnection is the least of your problems!
Is life in South Africa a prescient view of our collective future?
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
Yesterday, I transplanted germinated seedlings into the garden: peas and pole beans, zucchini, beets, onions, chard. Also planted another batch of seeds – along with parsley and cilantro.I may not be in this house when the vegetables ripen, but I’ll have the joy of knowing the house’s new owners can harvest and enjoy.
That is, if the monkeys don’t get to the veggies first.
***
Harbingers of spring?
Thanks to Covid-19, this my first winter in KZN Africa in decades, and my first winter ever in the Midlands. I don’t know if daytime temperatures reaching into the upper 80s are usual, but I appreciate them.
Summer temperatures in the inner San Francisco Bay rarely reach the 80s. (Mark Twain said, “The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco….”)
Thanks to Covid-19, this my first winter in KZN Africa in decades, and my first winter ever in the Midlands. I don’t know if daytime temperatures reaching into the upper 80s are usual, but I appreciate them.
Summer temperatures in the inner San Francisco Bay rarely reach the 80s. (Mark Twain said, “The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco….”)
Moreover, masked weaver birds gather in trees and chat vigorously, perhaps discussing pairing off and building nests.
The stream is alive with the sounds of singing insects, and the occasional chirp of frogs.
It’s dry, dry, dry with little sign of rain, yet… is that light, breeziness in the air the beginning of spring?
I could not visit the local café that provides internet connection as the café closed at 2:00pm. And its closed all day Sunday.
Not having access to the Internet – adjusting to its absence and the involuntary changes forced on my daily routine – highlight my Internet dependence… although “addiction” might be the more apt term.
Neither a cigarette smoker nor a regular imbiber of alcohol, I sympathize deeply with South Africans involuntarily forced to forgo those pleasures due to Lockdown Level 3’s nation-wide ban on alcohol and cigarettes. (The ban on both items lifted with Level 2.)
The stream is alive with the sounds of singing insects, and the occasional chirp of frogs.
It’s dry, dry, dry with little sign of rain, yet… is that light, breeziness in the air the beginning of spring?
Day 150 Sunday, August 23 - Lockdowner
Thirty-six-plus hours without an Internet connection and this Lockedowner has gone from stir-crazy to full-on crazy.I could not visit the local café that provides internet connection as the café closed at 2:00pm. And its closed all day Sunday.
Not having access to the Internet – adjusting to its absence and the involuntary changes forced on my daily routine – highlight my Internet dependence… although “addiction” might be the more apt term.
Neither a cigarette smoker nor a regular imbiber of alcohol, I sympathize deeply with South Africans involuntarily forced to forgo those pleasures due to Lockdown Level 3’s nation-wide ban on alcohol and cigarettes. (The ban on both items lifted with Level 2.)
News blues…
According to family and friends in California, air quality degraded to numbers well-above 280, into 300 in some area, on the Air Quality Index .
Planning and teamwork come naturally to me; for years planning and teamwork earned me a living as a project manager in California’s high-tech industry.
Planning and teamwork does not come naturally to my mother. For decades, she was a one-woman show. She was frequently indecisive and insecure, but she ruled her roost with an iron fist.
On the micro, intra-family level, our different styles offer potential conflict and misunderstanding.
On the macro, inter-cultural level, I’m handicapped by my limited understanding of – and hair-trigger frustration with - South Africa’s bureaucracy.
Layer a pandemic and Lockdown over an already complex situation and… I quaver.
Am I up to this challenge?
Can I be kind yet forceful, master my frustration, cope with the social isolation, ignore criticism of disengaged extended family, maintain my dignity and self-respect, and demonstrate compassion?
I hope so.
“I can’t breathe” takes on a whole new, tragic meaning as California’s wider Bay Area - home to more than 7.1 million pairs of lungs - suffers an extra-ordinary fire season with some 560 fires, many the largest blazes in the state’s history. Family and friends report difficulty breathing amid the worst smoke pollution in the state’s history.
Air quality at Concord/Walnut Creek – 25 miles inland from the bay – fluctuates above 220 on the Air Quality Index: “unhealthy for sensitive groups.”
Does “sensitive” mean “oxygen dependent”? Is there a parallel between the brutal police tactic of placing a knee upon the neck of a human being and the brutal tactic of politicians, corporations, and governments effectively refusing to address climate change?
Given explosive fires as a symptom of climate change, is climate change inaction akin to placing a metaphoric knee on the neck of living creatures everywhere, depriving them of oxygen by ensuring a high CO2/ methane/ pollution-laded atmosphere?
Back in February, before my life had been threatened by my mother’s domestic worker’s son, I had given – naively it turns out – both domestic workers access to the data plan. I trusted they’d use it as lightly as they did their own limited, pay-as-you-go plan: for SMS (“text”) and WhatsApp.
Alas.
The same domestic worker whose son threatened to kill me has abused this trust.
Last month, I ran out of data before the end of the month, suspected excessive data usage by others, and asked the ISP host to change my password. He didn’t respond and, fully occupied seeking a care center for my mother, I dropped the issue.
This month, as usual, I carefully logged my data usage. I was on track to run out of data on 31 August. Instead, 11 days before the end of the month, I ran out of data.
Early Friday morning, I queried the ISP host who said I’d used 4 gigs more than my plan provides. Records indicate the domestic worker has used upward of 11 gigs and shut down my account.
Already stressed by family circumstances, and Lockdown Level 2, and this isolating rural neighborhood, 11 days without Internet threatens my sanity!
I depend upon technology to 1) communicate with my American family and friends, 2) conduct online research for freelance writing, 3) stay current with world news, 4) read online magazines, 5) download library e-books, 6) break the monotony of Lockdown, and, 7) defuse the stress of dealing with my elderly mother, her two domestic workers and one gardener, large garden, and her seven pampered, poopin’ and peein’ pooches.
At least this time, I know that the lack of Internet connectivity is due to abuse, not the usual mysterious, unfathomable, illogical, overly bureaucratic South African-ism….
Despite informing the ISP host early Friday morning that my Internet was down, he waited until Saturday morning – 24 hours later - to inform me he doesn’t work weekends.
I could, he said, reconnect today – Saturday - by buying an additional plan and waiting until Monday for him to drop by and change the password.
Or, I could not reconnect until Monday when he’d drop by and change the password and I could buy an additional plan.
Neither option meets my needs - or my level of anger.
A third option? Forgo buying more data for the rest of the month. I’d take my business to a local café where Internet connection comes free with the purchase of a decaf latte (imbibed around a face mask).
This option feels as if I’m punishing myself by way of passive-aggressively punishing a lackadaisical businessperson.
Ouch!
In California, I live forty miles from Silicon Valley – the world’s center of high-tech, high-end customer service, and high-end competition between businesses to provide high-end customer service.
In rural KwaZulu Natal, I live 14,000 miles from Silicon Valley and a million miles from mediocre customer service, with no competition between businesses.
Usually, I find South Africa’s low-tech, half-assed business attitudes acceptably old-fashioned, even quaint.
Today? Not so much.
Let me say it in American: I am pissed off!
Or, more politely: I am PO’d.
I’m PO’d that I’m disconnected for days from an online world that sustains me during a difficult time.
I’m PO’d at the abuse of my Internet account by a domestic worker.
I’m PO’d that I allowed someone who has repeatedly proved herself arrogant and less than honest to use my generosity. And I’m PO’d that my mother recognizes this arrogance and dishonesty, but refuses to address it.
I’m PO’d at the ISP host’s business habits. What service business owner – less than a quarter mile away - makes a good customer (who has referred new customers) “wait until Monday”?
Today, I’ve finally reached overwhelming frustration with Lockdown.
Moreover, I emailed the matron yesterday and confirmed the move-in date – September 15 - and asked to hold the smaller room for my mother. (I could not convince my mother to take the larger, more accommodating room. Ah well. I tried. Win some /lose some!). Might this “lifestyle change” actually happen?
Could I have pulled off a miracle? During a pandemic?
Indeed.
Watch/listen to his full speech | NBC News (19:25 mins)
Air Quality Index – purple!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
Much of what must happen over the next few weeks and months - relocate my mother, deal with the Labor Department, distribute, sell, donate furnishings, rehome dogs, sell the house, return to California - must be carefully planned.Planning and teamwork come naturally to me; for years planning and teamwork earned me a living as a project manager in California’s high-tech industry.
Planning and teamwork does not come naturally to my mother. For decades, she was a one-woman show. She was frequently indecisive and insecure, but she ruled her roost with an iron fist.
On the micro, intra-family level, our different styles offer potential conflict and misunderstanding.
On the macro, inter-cultural level, I’m handicapped by my limited understanding of – and hair-trigger frustration with - South Africa’s bureaucracy.
Layer a pandemic and Lockdown over an already complex situation and… I quaver.
Am I up to this challenge?
Can I be kind yet forceful, master my frustration, cope with the social isolation, ignore criticism of disengaged extended family, maintain my dignity and self-respect, and demonstrate compassion?
I hope so.
Day 149 Saturday, August 22 - un-Netted
Twenty-four-plus hours without an Internet connection makes any already-stir-crazy Lockedowner more stir-crazy.News blues…
“I can’t breathe….” Across the United States, this infamous phrase encapsulates horror, tragedy, injustice, police brutality, and shame. It denotes the brutal police tactic of an officer of the law placing a knee upon the neck of a human being – and not infrequently, removing it only after the victim has suffocated.“I can’t breathe” takes on a whole new, tragic meaning as California’s wider Bay Area - home to more than 7.1 million pairs of lungs - suffers an extra-ordinary fire season with some 560 fires, many the largest blazes in the state’s history. Family and friends report difficulty breathing amid the worst smoke pollution in the state’s history.
Air quality at Concord/Walnut Creek – 25 miles inland from the bay – fluctuates above 220 on the Air Quality Index: “unhealthy for sensitive groups.”
Does “sensitive” mean “oxygen dependent”? Is there a parallel between the brutal police tactic of placing a knee upon the neck of a human being and the brutal tactic of politicians, corporations, and governments effectively refusing to address climate change?
Given explosive fires as a symptom of climate change, is climate change inaction akin to placing a metaphoric knee on the neck of living creatures everywhere, depriving them of oxygen by ensuring a high CO2/ methane/ pollution-laded atmosphere?
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
I purchase a monthly data plan from a local ISP and carefully titrate my usage to ensure data lasts the entire month.Back in February, before my life had been threatened by my mother’s domestic worker’s son, I had given – naively it turns out – both domestic workers access to the data plan. I trusted they’d use it as lightly as they did their own limited, pay-as-you-go plan: for SMS (“text”) and WhatsApp.
Alas.
The same domestic worker whose son threatened to kill me has abused this trust.
Last month, I ran out of data before the end of the month, suspected excessive data usage by others, and asked the ISP host to change my password. He didn’t respond and, fully occupied seeking a care center for my mother, I dropped the issue.
This month, as usual, I carefully logged my data usage. I was on track to run out of data on 31 August. Instead, 11 days before the end of the month, I ran out of data.
Early Friday morning, I queried the ISP host who said I’d used 4 gigs more than my plan provides. Records indicate the domestic worker has used upward of 11 gigs and shut down my account.
Already stressed by family circumstances, and Lockdown Level 2, and this isolating rural neighborhood, 11 days without Internet threatens my sanity!
I depend upon technology to 1) communicate with my American family and friends, 2) conduct online research for freelance writing, 3) stay current with world news, 4) read online magazines, 5) download library e-books, 6) break the monotony of Lockdown, and, 7) defuse the stress of dealing with my elderly mother, her two domestic workers and one gardener, large garden, and her seven pampered, poopin’ and peein’ pooches.
At least this time, I know that the lack of Internet connectivity is due to abuse, not the usual mysterious, unfathomable, illogical, overly bureaucratic South African-ism….
Despite informing the ISP host early Friday morning that my Internet was down, he waited until Saturday morning – 24 hours later - to inform me he doesn’t work weekends.
I could, he said, reconnect today – Saturday - by buying an additional plan and waiting until Monday for him to drop by and change the password.
Or, I could not reconnect until Monday when he’d drop by and change the password and I could buy an additional plan.
Neither option meets my needs - or my level of anger.
A third option? Forgo buying more data for the rest of the month. I’d take my business to a local café where Internet connection comes free with the purchase of a decaf latte (imbibed around a face mask).
This option feels as if I’m punishing myself by way of passive-aggressively punishing a lackadaisical businessperson.
Ouch!
In California, I live forty miles from Silicon Valley – the world’s center of high-tech, high-end customer service, and high-end competition between businesses to provide high-end customer service.
In rural KwaZulu Natal, I live 14,000 miles from Silicon Valley and a million miles from mediocre customer service, with no competition between businesses.
Usually, I find South Africa’s low-tech, half-assed business attitudes acceptably old-fashioned, even quaint.
Today? Not so much.
Let me say it in American: I am pissed off!
Or, more politely: I am PO’d.
I’m PO’d that I’m disconnected for days from an online world that sustains me during a difficult time.
I’m PO’d at the abuse of my Internet account by a domestic worker.
I’m PO’d that I allowed someone who has repeatedly proved herself arrogant and less than honest to use my generosity. And I’m PO’d that my mother recognizes this arrogance and dishonesty, but refuses to address it.
I’m PO’d at the ISP host’s business habits. What service business owner – less than a quarter mile away - makes a good customer (who has referred new customers) “wait until Monday”?
Today, I’ve finally reached overwhelming frustration with Lockdown.
***
Thirty-six hours after seeing her new home at the lovely community with a comfortable and welcoming care center, where semi-domesticated wild animals roam, my mother is still on track to move. Moreover, I emailed the matron yesterday and confirmed the move-in date – September 15 - and asked to hold the smaller room for my mother. (I could not convince my mother to take the larger, more accommodating room. Ah well. I tried. Win some /lose some!). Might this “lifestyle change” actually happen?
Could I have pulled off a miracle? During a pandemic?
Day 148 Friday Aug 21 – “What we do, echoes through generations”
Oh, how I miss Barack Obama! A man of intellect, intelligence, moral generosity, and a sense of humor. Downright presidential! Addressing the 2020 Democratic National Convention, Obama said, “What we do, echoes through generations.”Indeed.
Watch/listen to his full speech | NBC News (19:25 mins)
News blues…
 |
| Debris piles burn as the LNU Lightning Complex fire burns through the area on Wednesday in Fairfield, California. Photograph: Justin Sullivan/Getty Images click to enlarge. |
Fires!
Nah Hopeless to expect US Congressional Republicans action toward funding unemployed Americans and struggling health care workers and centers, providing affordable health care, taxing corporations, addressing long term effects of climate change….
Wildfires continue to sear through California, forcing thousands out of their homes and taxing the state’s firefighting capacity amid a heatwave and the coronavirus pandemic. One grouping of fires – the LNU Lightning Complex north of the Bay Area – grew rapidly overnight, doubling in size to about 131,000 acres by Thursday, and burning through more than 100 homes and buildings. The fires have so far destroyed 175 structures, including homes, and are threatening 50,000 more… In all, 33 civilians and firefighters have been injured...
As the flames edged toward the Silicon Valley city of San Jose, they blackened the skies and spewed up what was perhaps some of the worst air quality in the world. Ash blanketed many Bay Area neighborhoods, and health officials asked residents to stay indoors, warning that the combination of smoky air and Covid-19 make those with respiratory conditions doubly vulnerable.
Big Basin Redwoods state park, California’s oldest state park and home of some of its majestic redwoods, sustained “extensive damage”… with several historic buildings destroyed.
About two dozen major blazes and several smaller fires have eaten through brushland and dense forests, wildlands in the Sierra Nevada, southern California, and regions north, east and south of San Francisco. Evacuated residents now number in the tens of thousands…
The coronavirus pandemic has also complicated the government’s ability to safely evacuate and shelter residents. … California has been struggling to get a handle on a recent surge in coronavirus cases, and crowded shelters could exacerbate the spread of Covid-19 among evacuees.
***
Not to be ageist but… something funny to lighten the mood: How old is Biden?
Well, he is older than 94 percent of all living Americans, and older than 96 percent of all people alive on the planet, according to demographic data compiled by the United Nations.
He is already older than 27 presidents were when they died — including 14 years older than Franklin D. Roosevelt and 13 years older than Lyndon B. Johnson.
When Biden arrived in the U.S. Senate at age 30 on Jan. 3, 1973, he joined six senators who were born in the late 1800s. Of those 100 people — all of them men, and only one not white — he is one of just 13 who are still alive today. Read, “Joe Biden: An old man trying to lead a young country.”
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Lookit! An anomaly is today’s polarized politics: A Congress that does its job!The Brazilian Congress has decided that the use of masks is mandatory in closed places like commercial establishments, many workplaces, religious temples and schools. In a joint session of both houses — Senate and Deputies Chamber — the legislature overturned President Jair Bolsonaro's veto on such requirements.Maybe the actions of Brazil’s Congress will rub off onto the Republican-controlled Congress of the United States?
In votes on Wednesday, senators and deputies also upheld the right of mayors and governors to fine those who disobeyed the requirement.
The Congress also overturned Bolsonaro's vetoes of a law that sets out the federal government's duties to protect indigenous people during the pandemic. The legislators upheld aspects of the law assuring universal access to drinkable water, emergency access to beds in hospitals, the acquisition of ventilators and the delivery of free food to indigenous people and communities of slaves' descendants.
Nah Hopeless to expect US Congressional Republicans action toward funding unemployed Americans and struggling health care workers and centers, providing affordable health care, taxing corporations, addressing long term effects of climate change….
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Daily Maverick interview with journalist Andrew Harding, author of These are not gentle people A non-fiction crime drama that intimately explores South Africa’s divisions and questions the idea of truth in an unequal society. These Are Not Gentle People began in 2016 when Harding went to court in Parys, Free State, after a group of white farmers were charged after they caught and brutally assaulted Samuel Tjixa and Simon Jubeba, accused of attempting to rob an elderly white farmer in the area. Both men died.
Harding was immediately struck by the different versions of the story. Two black men had been accused of trying to rob a white farmer and other white farmers, who live in fear of violence, caught them and meted out punishment.
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Sarah Cooper riffs on Trump at the 2020 Democratic National Convention (1:15 mins) Really American: Rigger in Chief (1:30 mins)
***
After Lockdown Level 2 was announced, I re-contacted the care center matron and arranged a visit. I learned from her that, if the place met my mother’s needs, she could potentially bring one of her six dogs to live there, too.
Great news!
I quickly followed up and took my mother and Jessica, her dog, for a visit.
The gods smiled upon us: we were welcomed by a herd of 7 zebras grazing on the extensive lawns. Another zebra grazed between the parking lot and the residential building. (My mother loves animals.)
Since Jessica, like all my mother’s dogs are not leash-trained, I worried Jessica might create a bad first impression. Instead, she followed us into the building and made herself at home. She met Bella, the white husky who lives, and introduced herself to residents.
I was amazed – and proud of her.
As the matron showed my mother her choice of rooms - one large (and more expensive), and two small - I watched my mother for signs of distress, or distaste, or reluctance.
Instead, she, like Jessica, was amenable to moving.
We’ve a long way to go, but we made a start.
Observation: when one is in the moment of a big and ultimately successful event, one tends not to recognize that moment until later. Today, I recognize that yesterday’s event went very well. I put a lot into it and, so far (11 hours later) it appears that it’s “all systems go!”
But…
Am I’m spinning my wheels? Will she’ll change her mind – again?
That’s my experience: my mother changing her mind, acting as if something that happened never actually happened, and recently, when stressed, saying, “Oh, I wish I could just die. That would take care of everything.”
Challenging being involved in this transition. I feel that no matter what I do, my efforts are dismissed, undermined, diminished.
As “they” say, “story of my life”. My “problem”? Being a feisty daughter in a sexist culture?
I was tempted to end this post with a trio of emojis expressing laughter, tears, and craziness.
Far better to end with an apt quote: “What we do, echoes through generations…”
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
For the past six months, I’ve sought a care center that would meet the needs of my 87-year-old mother. Back in May, Lockdown prevented a planned visit to a community with grounds large enough to host wild African animals: impala, warthog, blesbok, zebra….After Lockdown Level 2 was announced, I re-contacted the care center matron and arranged a visit. I learned from her that, if the place met my mother’s needs, she could potentially bring one of her six dogs to live there, too.
Great news!
I quickly followed up and took my mother and Jessica, her dog, for a visit.
The gods smiled upon us: we were welcomed by a herd of 7 zebras grazing on the extensive lawns. Another zebra grazed between the parking lot and the residential building. (My mother loves animals.)
Since Jessica, like all my mother’s dogs are not leash-trained, I worried Jessica might create a bad first impression. Instead, she followed us into the building and made herself at home. She met Bella, the white husky who lives, and introduced herself to residents.
I was amazed – and proud of her.
As the matron showed my mother her choice of rooms - one large (and more expensive), and two small - I watched my mother for signs of distress, or distaste, or reluctance.
Instead, she, like Jessica, was amenable to moving.
We’ve a long way to go, but we made a start.
Observation: when one is in the moment of a big and ultimately successful event, one tends not to recognize that moment until later. Today, I recognize that yesterday’s event went very well. I put a lot into it and, so far (11 hours later) it appears that it’s “all systems go!”
But…
Am I’m spinning my wheels? Will she’ll change her mind – again?
That’s my experience: my mother changing her mind, acting as if something that happened never actually happened, and recently, when stressed, saying, “Oh, I wish I could just die. That would take care of everything.”
Challenging being involved in this transition. I feel that no matter what I do, my efforts are dismissed, undermined, diminished.
As “they” say, “story of my life”. My “problem”? Being a feisty daughter in a sexist culture?
I was tempted to end this post with a trio of emojis expressing laughter, tears, and craziness.
Far better to end with an apt quote: “What we do, echoes through generations…”
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