And I thought school was bad...

Apparently teachers in Britain feel that students waste too much time on totalitarian trivialities like academics and not nearly enough time on important life skills like the different applications of walking, according to the following article from This is True.

"DON'T TRY THIS WHILE CHEWING GUM: Martin Johnson, the acting deputy general secretary of the Association of Teachers and Lecturers, a teachers' union in Britain, says the national school curriculum is "totalitarian" because it focuses on academics. What should schools teach, then? "Other" types of knowledge, he said. Like what? Like learning how to walk properly. "There's a lot to learn about how to walk. If you were going out for a Sunday afternoon stroll you might walk one way," he says. "If you're trying to catch a train you might walk in another way and if you are doing a cliff walk you might walk in another way." (London Guardian) ...And if you're thinking of sending your kids to ATL-led schools, run! "

Can’t say that I blame them, really. I mean, who wants to spend time educating the very people who will one day run the world in something as boring as mathematics, politics and English spelling and grammar when the fascinating and hitherto unexplored world of everyday activities await!

Kicking Butt

I want to know who created this stupid idea that health is your most precious commodity, because that really just isn't true. At this stage, I would have really loved, adored, begged for being ill.

You see, I'm trying to quit smoking, being pregnant and all that. And if you've never smoked or had to quit smoking, you'll have no idea how hard it is to kick butt while you're disgustingly healthy and hale.

Right now, I've managed to cut it down to about 2-5 a day and I'm still feeling an amount of guilt that you simply can't imagine, but the truth is I'm having a real hard time with the quitting. It's ironic, since I had no problem quitting with my previous pregnancy… though come to think of it, by the time I found out I was pregnant I'd already quit for about two or three months.

The story goes like this. I became horribly, violently, terribly ill during the winter (remember, winter here is from march/april to august/September). So there I was, hacking my lungs out (or what was left of it after ten years of light to moderate smoking, which at the time felt like it couldn't be larger than two pin heads) with my breast so congested and tight that I couldn't breathe air properly, nevermind smoke. So I just simply wasn't physically able to smoke until I got better, which took about a week to ten days, at which time I decided that a) I never wanted to feel like that again, and b) I had already quit, actually, for ten days and should be over the worst of the cravings and withdrawal, only I missed it because I was too busy being ill and consumed in self pity to notice. Simple as that, non?

Non.

You can imagine how superior I was feeling, having quit the coffin nails with no trouble at all, no cravings, no irritation, nada. I was insufferable. Smirking at everyone who complained about quitting smoking in a "I'm-better-than-you" kind of way, I'm sure many people wanted to just wring my neck. People who are coming off the nicotine are very, very easily irritated, as I can well attest now. The only thing I can think is that they didn't want to harm a pregnant woman, so they tried to avoid me, which of course made me feel even more superior, because I thought that they were avoiding me because they were feeling inferior about their inability to quit.

Someone should have just killed me there and then. God knows, if I should run into the me of that time, I would at the very least slap myself silly. Come to think of it, that would be an excellent idea. I could beat myself up and in that way never start smoking again, leading to a present of freedom.

So, anyone got a time machine? If you don't, I'd be happy to take your germs instead.

Naming Monsters

Well. Talk about a hiatus! If my maths didn't suck so completely, I would have calculated just how long I've been gone, but I would spare you that pain and myself that humiliation (not to mention menal fatigue that might lead to a revolt of the braincells) and just say "too long".

Things have been going really well for me, in case you were interested. For a while there, things got very, very hairy, but for now everything is good, so let's get straight to our feature for the day.

Since I am pregnant again, the great Naming Game has started up. Again. As if the first time wasn't bad enough, we then went ahead and actually used the only girl name we could agree on. Innocent, naïve fools that we were! Now we're stuck in the same place again, this time witout that one magical name we could both at least learn to tolerate.

This got me thinking all over again: what's in a name? Well, since I'm one of those people cursed priviledged enough to grow up with "unique" (read: you reek) name, I feel very strongly about the subject. Not that I was teased all that much about my name, come to think of it. In fact, to be totally honest, no one ever teased me about my name. This is despite the fact that I was named after a movie character (can you guess which one). I guess there were just so many other things to single out that my name seemed tame in comparison.

Fact remains, I feel very strongly about people trying to give their children beautiful and unique names and ending up with some or other monstrosity that no one in their right mind (read: not on acid) can even pronounce without the help of copious amounts of (at least) alcohol, never mind spell! I use to scorn such parents, deride them whenever I had the chance, and even wonder wether they feel such a strong drive to make their kids unique because they themselves were so singularly ununique. I have since found out that not only is that the absolute truth, but that I am one of them.

When we were looking for names for her, I realized that I, too, wanted something you-neek, a name that no one else in her class (preferably her town) has. Not that I gave my kid a bohemian, made up name. No, nothing like that. In the end, the name we gave her actually exists, it's a legitimate name, and I've actually grown quite fond of it as time passed. This is only because my husband put his foot down and refused to consider any made up names, for which I'm sure she will be eternally grateful to him as soon as she's old enough to realize that her name isn't actually "Baby". But even with that, it took all of our combined intellects and numerous close-call rumbles to actually get to this name, after almost seven months of debate and struggling.

Now I'm starting to wonder wether the entire concept of names could be overrated. I mean, wouldn't it be less confusing to just name all the kids the same? Imagine the conversational possibilities inherent in this. "Yes, and these are my two daughters, Janet, and my four sons Julian."

At least then Gwyneth Paltrow wouldn't have to try so hard, and neither would I!

Riding out the storm

I don't want to speak too soon, but it seems that the worst of the storm is over. My husband still has to work 20 hours a day to sort out the company, which, thanks to my FIL's drinking habits, almost collapsed, but it's getting better and the end is in sight.

My MIL is still living with us, though that should change as soon as she gets herself a boarder. My dh's father is now in rehab, after a huge fight and lots of threats of crashing the company so that we don't have anything to eat. We've decided to cut him off from the family... he's been drinking like that for 28 years, my MIL says, he's had all the chances in the world.

Things are still tense, but for the first time in weeks my husband was home last night and we could watch a little TV. The baby's doing fine, though with all the stress I've had to stop breastfeeding. My milk just dried up from the stress. I'm very, very sad about that.

So anyway, life goes on.

Show me the funny

Much as I'd like to post something funny, tonight I just can't seem to find the funny anywhere. It must be hiding somewhere behind the alcohol bottles, obscured from view by the damage the content of said bottles can cause.

Now, despite what you may have read or heard on the news and in your local papers, I don't drink. At all. But I don't have a problem with people who do. Free world, I say. Enjoy.

However, when someone drinks most of the day everyday, I become... edgy. Especially if it's someone close to our family. And when said person tends to become violent and a complete idiot when sufficient amounts of alcohol is imbibed, I have a SERIOUS problem. Call me old-fashioned, but there it is.

Now, today, the reason for this problem I have with the seriously inebriated has surfaced yet again: quite plainly, they make life hell for the rest of us. Were said person to seek help, that would have been a different story all together... I of all people know that you can't just say "Quit drinking" to some people, just like you can't just say "Feel better" to me or anyone else suffering from depression. However, this person has had numerous opportunities to avail themselves to help, but chose not to. Help was even arranged for them, but this person just didn't want to do it.

Now we're sitting with the mess, and it's hurting our family and the people dear to me and I hate hate HATE it.

Ten Thoughts about Life... Sent by a friend.

Number 10 - Life is sexually transmitted.

Number 9 - Health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

Number 8 - Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, make him a sandwich!

Number 7 - Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day; teach a person to use the Internet and they won't bother you for weeks.

Number 6 - Some people are like a Slinky..... Not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you see one tumble down the stairs.

Number 5 - Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.

Number 4 - All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.

Number 3 - Why does a slight tax increase cost you two hundred dollars (or rands, in South Africa) and a substantial tax cut saves you 3?

Number 2 - In the 60's, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.



AND THE NUMBER 1 THOUGHT FOR 2005:


We know exactly where one cow with mad-cow-disease is located among the millions and millions of cows in the United Kingdom, South Africa and America but we haven't got a clue as to where thousands of illegal immigrants and terrorists are located. Maybe we should put the respective Departments of Agriculture in charge of immigration?

Survival Series: The Children's Birthday Party

In honour of not having anything to blog about (what can I say, my life is boring... you can only say so much about changing diapers), I've decided to embark upon a new and exiting series: The Survival Series. Detailing sanity-busting scenarios, and expert hints and tips on how to survive mentally and physically intact, this series is a must for everyone!

Today's Survival Scenario: The Children's Birthday Party.

So, Junior is having a birthday? Good luck. This is a situation that has sent many a parent over the brink and into that never-ending La-La land.

"But what is so horrible about a birthday party?" I hear you ask.

Imagine the scene: a clutch of [insert appropriate age] children running around, screaming and hyper from the sugar. There will always be at least one crying hysterically at any given time, and one other up to some ungodly mischief the moment you're not looking. Cake and sweets and various other party snacks gets trampled into everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING (including, amongst others: ears, carpets, hair, cats). All this is before the presents are opened and the kids begin fighting over the presents, and this is a best-case scenario. Worst-case scenarios include serious injuries, feuding parents and maybe even the police.

So what can you do to keep from going as crazy as Steve Irwin upon spotting a reptile? Here is my suggestions.

1.) ALWAYS ensure that no party is ever held at your place of residence.

Some parents prefer to use restaurants with a kiddy-friendly athmosphere, themeparks, or even petting zoos. All of these offer too much opportunity for mischief and mayhem, so we suggest the following venues for your consideration:

• A nightclub. Think about it: No kids allowed!
• Your in-laws' place: They'll be happy to help, and they get stuck with all the kids and the cake-infested carpets!
• The houses of various friends, families and enemies: See above.
  

2.) No matter the temptation, NEVER give the children any toys that can be used as a weapon.

Sadly, this includes most toys for kids over 2, so we suggest you play some time-honoured games like:

• Clean the kitchen: The aim of this game is to clean a kitchen completely. The first team to do this wins.
• Fetch the wine: In this game, each child is assigned to one adult to ensure the adult's glass never runs empty.
• Round the garden Treasure Hunt: Hunt for exiting things like the kitten that got lost months ago, and the socks that always seem to run away.

3.) If the children are loud, BE LOUDER.

4.) If there's no blood, it's not that bad.

5.) And finally, remember, no children's party is bearble without copious amounts of alcohol... for the parents, of course.

The Orcale has Spoken... but Tom Cruise was too busy to listen.

So, it turns out that Ms Holmes (soon to be Mrs Cruise) is pregnant after all. Will it be unforgivably mean of me to say that I hope she gets PND, just to see how her omnipotent husband-to-be will handle it? Probably, since she wasn't the one saying that people suffering from PND shouldn't use meds. Still, maybe we'll be lucky and the ever controversial Mr. Cruise will get it himself? It has been reported that loads of dads suffer from it, though it's rarely as severe in men as in women.

*sigh* Life just isn't fair, is it?

And in case you've been wondering, my life this past week was just too busy to post. Busy with what, you ask? Why, catching up on some sleep, of course! Princess Logan has finally started to sleep twice during the day, saving her mother from total insanity and weepy, chocolate induced confessions of inadequacy the after-effects of too little sleep.

I am just not one of those people who can function without a solid chunk of sleep to back me up. Call me a weak sissy-girl, but I need my back guarded by enough sleep!

Anycase, I visited the Great and Almighty Underwear Oracle today, and it spake onto me:

What Your Underwear Says About You

You tend to buy new underwear instead of doing laundry. You're comfortable in your own skin - and don't care to impress anyone.

The Underwear Oracle

Well, there you have it folks. Mr Cruise, eat your heart out.

Have Baby, Will Charge

Today we discovered one of the hidden perks of havning a baby: Instant popularity!

This morning, feeling brave, my husband and me decided to go to the site of the national arts festival currently held in our hometown. This week-long festival includes lots and lots (and lots) of stalls with artsy stuff to see and buy, and lots of stages erected on which to hold shows with lots of chairs on which to sit and watch said shows.

So there we were, innocently thinking we'd be walking along the stalls with the baby in the stroller, enjoying the sights. Hah! We were soon shown the error of our naiveté, for walking through the massed crowds, it seemed that we were the sights. We couldn't walk two steps without being confronted by one (or more) crooning person (mostly female, though there was this weird moment with a teenage boy...) who wanted to drool all over our baby.

These people look completely normal, and I'm sure that were you to ask the people who know them, they'd be said to act perfectly normal as well. However, it seems that for some people, the sight of a baby is evidently a cue to become weird and, quite frankly, sometimes a little scary. Our baby was an instant celebrity, drawing crowds larger than some of the established artists preforming on the stages!

So, we decided that next year, we'll set up a tent and charge people to come in and look at the baby (any touching will cost extra). We'll do this in order to cash in on one of the other hidden perks of having children: Making money.

A Wasted Weekend...

Ah, Sunday. Don't you just love Sundays? It is the day [insert preferred deity here] made to just kick back, relax, take stock of the past week's goings-on and rest before the new week dawns. A day of peace, calm and bumming out in front of the TV in a mindless stupor. That is, everywhere but here, it seems.

Yes, the Princess has been discovering that the world is, in fact, rather interesting. This happened to our immense chargin and against all our wishes, as we were hoping to keep her locked up inside the house forever, banning all contact with the outside world, squashing all interest in going out and especially going out with boys. Alas, now our plan has failed and a new one must be formed.

So, since Princess discovered that the world is so amusing she has also evidently been drawing the conclusion that all the most interesting and amusing things about the world are hidden away until the moment she closes her eyes to sleep. Hence, she refuses to sleep during the day in fear of missing out on all these things her parents (us) wanted her to miss. Drats, foiled again!

Ah well. I guess we'll just have to spend the next few days dreaming up a new strategy and in the meantime I think I'll just tear out my hair in sleepless frustration live with it.

Blogs I am soooo over

This is my humble take on blogs that I'm soooo over.

5. Blogs written from a pet/child's point of view. I mean, really. It was cute in the beginning, but now every second blog is like this it's getting old real fast.
4. Blogs that are actually advertisements disguised as blogs. Waste my time, why don't you? That seriously ticks me off.
3. Blogs reporting the same old news, the same as seven hundred thousand others. Need I say more?
2. Bad poetry blogs. Like, totally over it when I was 16 man, while th'moon speeks 2 me

and finally, my #1 pet peeve blog:

Blogs that go on and on about nothing but American politics, as if the entire world revolves around America and its politics.

Now I don't have a problem with a well thought out political opinion, or some ranting about the crap the government does, but these blogs that every day give the same thought voiced differently about the same old same old just makes me tired. Politics, politics, all the time politics makes blogs dull, especially if it's politics that have nothing to do with me or my life here in South Africa, where we have problems that make American problems seem like picnics. Honestly.

But then, that's just me.

My Dirty Little Secret.

Okay, I'll admit it: I'm a child at heart. I guess that's why I get along with kids so well, but that's besides the point. I'm totally *addicted* to Neopets. There you have it. My dirty little secret.

For those of you who've been living in a virtual vacuum these past few years, here's the 411. Neopets is a virtual pet site that allows you to adopt up to 4 virtual pets. Then you have to play games and/or do things around the site to earn virtual money (Neopoints) which you use to buy food and toys to keep your pets happy. However, for most people, Neopets is about collecting stuff, making galleries in which to show off these stuff and so on. I'm totally hooked! For me at least, the main aim of Neopets is to
a.) Collect as many Neopoints as I can and
b.) Collect as many avatars as I can.

I spend hours every day playing Neopets, and right now, trying to figure out the latest plots. I'm telling you, if you're bored, head on out to Neopia and sign yourself a Neopets account today. You'll either love it or you'll hate it, but if their popularity is anything to go by, loving it seems to be the main response.

Wake me up when September ends...

It's been such a long time since I've actually had the time to blog! I tell ya, they don't tell you in the manual how much time a newborn takes up!

Anycase, here I am, crazier than ever thanks to having to wake every 2 hours whenever I try to sleep.

So I was up at 2-3am Monday morning and saw most of the Emmy Red Carpet arrivals on E!, since we are so far ahead time-wise, and my goodness, didn't Jennifer Garner look smashing? I think she's just the most beautiful of all the Hollywood Jens out there. And then there's Heidi Klum, wearing that incredible Dior gown! Wow! If I was a star and could have a 24 hour nanny who'd raise my kids, I'd be out to the Emmy's 6 days after giving birth as well! (Though I imagine sitting all night wouldn't have been a ball...)

Speaking of babies, I see the Speaderline had arrived. It's a boy, apparently named Preston. WHAT? That's NOT a celebrity baby name! You should have named him something like Brittin (that's a combination of Brittney and Kevin, don't you know?, and it's a tryndee spelling)! Ah well, I still say in 15 years, when the Children of the Stars take over the world, we'll regret this era.

Ooh, the baby is up, I gots to go.

It's the Bomb

Need I say more? All credit goes to Stidy, over at News24. Some of the best cartoons I've ever seen, I've seen over there.

Presenting to the world...

Logan Mika van der Merwe. Born 28 July 2005, weighing 2,670 Kgs (that's 5.9 lbs).

She surprised us by arriving 3 weeks early, and looking at her now, two weeks on, I find it so difficult to believe that she should still have been in the womb, biding her time and floating in her own little Nirvana of water and muffled sounds, instead of out here in the harsh, cold world.

She's such a little character! She gets plenty angry when she can't get her food (we've been having a bit of trouble with the feeding, but it seems to be better now), and she doesn't want to go to sleep, she wants to see what's going on all the time.

Her eyes are so active all the time, like she can't drink in everything fast enough, and I want to tell her: Slow down, little one, you have the entire rest of your life for that! Then I remember, none of us know how long we have, so I say nothing. I just hold her closer and thank all the gods that she arrived safe and has a chance to experience life and I have a chance to experience her, a chance so many other mothers and babies don't have.

An Early Arrival

I know I haven't been around in a while, but visiting my grandparents while I still had the chance before baby came, since we didn't want to travel too close to my due date.

Damn you, Irony!

Well.

As you guys know, I was 37 weeks pregnant on Wednesday. So Wednesday evening I got in bed late, as usual, and awoke two hours later (about 12:30 Thursday morning)... and my water had broken!

I'll tell y'all the whole story (with pics, I promise) later or tomorrow, but suffice to say that Logan Mika van der Merwe entered the world at 19:10 Thursday, 28 July at 37 weeks 1 day of age. She is soooooo tiny! She only weighed 2,67 kgs. That's 5,9 lbs, for those of you not on the metric system.

Although she's 3 weeks premature, she's absolutely fine, no problems whatsoever, and we came home from the hospital today. She's such a little beauty, though we do have some trouble feeding sometimes.

But I must say, I'm still STUNNED. We weren't expecting her for at least another 3 weeks, and even then I thought she'd be late as she's a first baby.

Isn't it the best surprise ever? I just thought I'd let you all know.

Religion and the Unsharkly Shark

For those of you wondering where I have been, the answer is simple: I've been visiting my grandparents for the last time before the baby arrives. While there, something curious happened, which I must confess, left me puzzled and very angry.

I had a conversation with my aunt about the movie "Shark Tale". I quite liked the movie, but she said that she was disgusted with it, because of the shark wanting to dress like a dolphin and not being "sharkly" enough, and the parallels it has to those of homosexual persuasion. She detested that the movie advocated that everyone get along, even sharks who aren't "sharkly", because it teaches kids that it's okay to be friends with someone who's "not normal", or even to *be* "not normal". This, she said, was not something she wanted to teach her kids.

I then pointed out (politely enough, actually, though it makes me mad when people are so short sighted) that we can't afford to teach our kids anything else in the world we live in, even if we don't agree (which I do), since they are the ones who'll have to function in a society where it's criminal to discriminate. She then said: "But it's against what the Bible says" (which, by the way, is an entirely different debate).

This got me to thinking, and after chewing on it for a long time, I concluded that most of the world's evils can be blamed on the concept of organized religion, no matter what religion we're talking about. It's the reason behind most wars, most terrorism, and most stupidity. Honestly. That whole concept of "My religion requires it from me" has been modified to "My church/fellow worshippers would expect it from me".

That's what horrifies most "religious" people about something like a pregnant unmarried: not so much the fact of the pregnancy and its implications, or even the failure to conform to the religion, but "What will the X's think", "What will the church say", "How can I ever look the neighbours in the face again".

And that just makes me sad. People who spend most of their time and energy judging others and wondering who'll go to Heaven or Nirvana or wherever, and losing sight of the actual religion and the actual deity they worship in the process.

I guess that's why I'm so agnostic. No religion, no rules, just pure spirituality. Besides, I'm such a rebel, I don't think rules and me were made to co-exist in any case.

The safety of hospitals...

Now, everyone who knows me, know that I have a very vested interest in what goes on in hospitals, especially since I have to go to one to have my baby soon (I wanted a home birth, but there are no midwives experienced in HB in a 50 mile radius from where I live).

About three or four weeks or so ago, the first reports of babies (started at 7, and soon it was up to 19, final death toll was 22 newborn babies) dying in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) of a Durban Hospital, the Mahatma Gandhi Hospital, due to a strange illness. Read more about the initial report here.

Since Durban is one of the largest cities in the country, this was distressing in itself, but over the weekend, the results of an investigation launched were made public. In the investigation it was found that the outbreak was due to unsanitary and unhygenic practises in the hospital, dirty equipment and the like. 22 babies are dead because the hospital was unsanitory, giving the babies contaminated and infected bottles, IVs etc.

22 Newborn babies. Dead. I simply can't get over it.

Then you get those people who look at you and say: "But you are placing your baby's life in danger if you have a home birth", while the truth, according to science and scientific studies, is that a home birth (adhering to certain rules of safety, of course) is at least as safe or safer than a hospital birth. And this is in industrialized nations where hospitals are more hygenic, sanitary and staffed than they are here.

Then some people wonder why I get all angry! I wonder what they'd do if I walked up to the "hospital birth club", who insist that anyone who wants to give birth at home doesn't deserve to have a baby, and said: "It is scientifically proven that home birth is as safe or safer than hospital, and that's in countries like America, where the hospitals are clean for the most part. Who's putting their babies' lives more at risk: me who would choose to birth safely at home, following the "safety rules", or you, who go to a place that's proven to be more dangerous?"

Of course I would never do that, since I believe all women's choices are their own and has nothing to do with me, but I wish that they'd lay off me about my choices! I wish that I could have found a midwife who was experienced at home births and had my baby at home. And I hope, hope, hope, that nothing like what happened in Durban happens in the hospital where I'll have my baby. What else is there to do?

Saturday Night Potjie

Since it's Saturday night, and neither my husband nor me felt like cooking per se (we rarely do, come to think of it), he decided to invite some friends over to make a potjie (pronounced POY-kee). This is basically a stew made in a three-legged cast iron pot cooked over an open fire. See picture to get the idea.

Now, first of all, you must understand that this is not only a valued traditional dish, it's something of a ritual in itself. First, all the ingredients should be chopped as rougly and unevenly as possible. Then the fire is lit (in this case, at 6pm) and the Great Wait starts. The fire can't be too hot when you put the pot on, or the food will burn, see. So, after it is ascertained that the fire is ready (usually a few beers in, especially with it being Saturday, Rugby Day, but none of us drink or watch rugby), the pot is placed over the fire and the veggies and meat and stuff is added layer by layer in a secret way that is passed down from potjie-maker to potjie maker.

The reason potjiekos is so popular in South Africa is not entirely because of its unique and delicious taste, but also because of the good times and social behaviour associated with it. What makes potjiekos so unique, is that no two potjie's ever taste the same, the taste is decided upon by the chef and what ingredients he wants to put into it.

The ingredients are not to be stirred until the pot is ready to be eaten (after about 2 or so hours on the fire), and it's served with some rice. Hmm. Now I'm starving. And best of all, I don't have to do anything... besides wash the dishes afterwards.

On second thought, maybe I should complain to someone...

The War of the Mentally Unstable.

I've decided to not be just another news-commentary blog, but I simply can't resist mouthing a few words about Tom Cruise and his denial of the therapy currently in use for the treatment of mental illnesses. (For those who don't know, I'm about as unstable as they come, and have to use anti-deps even though I am pregnant). As if that wasn't enough, he went on to attack Brooke Shields for using anti-depressants and therapy to deal with her post-natal-depression.

Brooke defended herself and called his claims "ridiculous, as reported in this article here.

This just left me wondering: does the wonderful Mr. Cruise have talents/anatomical parts as yet unheard of? Some sort of qualification or research to back up his claims, or more pertinantly, some experience in PND? I would have loved to see him eat his words after he suffers from it, but since his kids are adopted and he himself can't exactly carry, give birth and suffer the hormonal fluctuations that pregnancy and children bring, I can't help but wonder where he gets the right to make statements like that and present it as truth on international TV.

Of course, everyone's entitled to their own opinions about things like this, but honestly, it's just stupid to open your mouth on international TV, commenting on things about which you know absolutely nothing but what your church tells you.

Perhaps we should put Telkom on his back and see him deny his own mental instability after months of trying to reason with them and get some form of service from them. Now that would be entertaining.