I love smiles: Pricessless quality

I wake up later than I plan to each morning - and yes, I'm working harder on kicking that lifetime nasty habit. But I'm sure I'm not a soloist in what I presume to be a worldwide habit. Having woken up, following uncountable alarm re-schedules, I just feel irritated at my bad habit. I forced to rush everything (thank God for showers) and walk out without breakfast and bad enough, yesterday I walked out without my office keys. I worked from outside the office - peace, freedom from closed places, fresh breezes and thoughts of priceless, yet cherished things.

Since my brand new family came back on Sunday - courtesy of my good friend Mpho Mokete, the Godfather to two, Tinyiko and Talia - I seem to be happier in the mornings (although still in rushes). I wake up to pretty faces with wide smiles. Pure new white teeth on one, and just red spanky new fresh gums on the other. I wake up to smiles from my two daughters and not a day has gone by since they came back had I been short of a smile. It's like second nature to them: It's almost like they wake up and look at who's around and they just go wide in smiles, one at a time, then in unison. Those smiles radiate some energy in me for the entire forthcoming day. From the morning I see those smiles I'm just forced to keep mine for the next day light.

And as my wife has so often realised, I value smiles in relationships, in friendships and in life in general than anything else. To me smiles are one of those tax free, priceless qualities that just humble you and say: 'life 's beautiful, smile back and keep it on when you see the next person'.

But the reality is that smiles are only (except for my house) in places where hospitality is valued and people pay an arm and a hand to get them. At work, very often, or in every second person you come across, a smile is missing. May be I defaulted on my smile-tax. In the streets, smiles are missing and generally, all over the place smiles are missing. And it's only a few people who keep them on and flash them when you come across them.

But go to any damned good hotel or restaurant. In these places of hospitality, you will be met from the first person at the door, with a pricessless flashy smile. Almost magical. So much that you get humbled - except for the reason you are in that place is to part with you small fortunes. Nevertheless, they are smiles and when I come across them, regardless of the motive, I'm humbled. (Rememer, a devil smile is easy to tell: the teeth pitch black to render the smile pitch dark).

Well, for me, home is where the smiles are at. I think by the time Tinyiko's gums start showing some bright white teeth, I must invest in shades for the mornings so that I don't get blinded by a combo of two of the best waning smiles in the world.

The price: well, pricesLESS. The tax: well, FREE. And as for the struggle with slumber, amidst this premature winter, I'm sure I will make it - how, I don't know. The solution eludes the world, not just me. May be their smiles can inspire me in a way.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Mooikloof Ridge still haven for kids

Princess Talia at Mooikloof Ridge enjoying the walk.

Princess Talia having a run at it (the camera).

In case you getting the wrong message out of my ranting regarding Mooikloof Ridge persistend water chaos, I still think it's a good environment for kids and Talia says it's "on-top" for her afternoon walks. And that's why I believe in this concept across South Africa. Although this estates are called gated-communities, in way, they are communities that encourage, not pervasively so though, interaction between the black and white races in this country.

I keep mentioning black and white, and that's because I feel that it is very important for these two races to interact, learn about each other and build better understandings to avoid small and useless, but costly confrontations and conflicts. With that understanding and harmony, South Africa can become a better place and the focus can be on developing it further, fighting poverty by working together.

My photos here: ____ www.flickr.com/photos/izzyone
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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

A psychotic world

Was home on paternity leave (modern day convenience) and...

Spent time with the new babe, Tinyiko and her sis, Talia - who, because of the new crowd around her, she flat out ignored me being her number one person in the whole world. The leave was spent in the village, Pankop, amidst the noise of birds and chickens running around the whole place and me lazying under a Marula tree drinking 2x 2l of fresh water a day. For some reason, I felt life was good that way: no worries of the fast city life and the pressures that come with it, the material competition that goes on everyday, the noise of the cars and mad traffic and taxis hooting all day long from am to pm, the rigid schedule that's forced by citylife and more of that crap about the city.

Well, the main reason I felt so good in the village, a place where I was born and lived for 20 years, was because I had just realised something that was just happening naturally: Talia (my first daughter) was playing ... in the streets nogal, with all the other village kids and nobody cared much whether she will be hurt, napped or bothered by psychos that parade the urban streets, in any city. Now that's most cities in the current under-siege South Africa, where crime unto babies, especially girls, is the order of the day.

I don't imagine that when Talia and Tinyiko return back to Pretoria I would just care less if they played in the streets in Pretoria east. I don't think I would even be comfortable with them going about to play unwatched or uncontrolled in a public park here in Pretoria for I fear for their safety. Such is a pity for then their development that should come from their freedom of being kids ands free of unnecessary control (especially when it comes to not interferring with their play-abouts). In short, in the city, they may not enjoy themselves as they do in the village.

It was an interesting observation, which brought back sad memories of a story I covered for the Sunday Times back in 2005 involving two young black girls from Soweto - age ranging 9 - 13 I think. Now the psycho did something beyond human to them - which in South Africa is becoming the norm in the killings of children. He napped them as they were walking to church in the broad day light, probably and allegedly kept them somewhere isolated whilst repeatedly raping them over numerous days. The parents, as I had visited them during the long depressing search for their girls, were reeling with anger to say the least, although very forgiving and hopeful their girls will be found alive - the father relayed to me that he used to walk the streets of Soweto, Pimville, at night hoping to find them as it was quiter but only to be taumented by their voices in his head begging for mercy ("for me to come safe them" - he once relayed to me).

That is painful for a parent, even if they try to look stronger than they may feel. Now the worst was to fall for this father and his wife: the monster-half man, after raping the girls in captivity for several days, killed them by strangling them with ropes from their apostolic-church attire and burried them in a shallow open grave in an open field nearby the neighbourhood. I was gobsmacked another human being could do that - my first hardcore story to report at the Sunday Times - with many mixed emotions.

At the time, the only fury in my heart and mind was that a case of these girls from a modest township background was not fast tracked or given any good detectives (police) to sort out, whereas a kidnap-murder case of a white rich girl (21 year old Leigh-Matthews) was backed by all necessary resources to resolve it soonest, and resolved it was - and the parents could at least put closure and try to move on. But the case of the poor little girls from Soweto was largely ill-managed by police and received the bearest minumum of their attention or resources. And to date, the case remains unsolved and the culprit prowling the streets where my Talia, Tinyiko and many other little innocent girls out there have to live and play.

Now that's my new beef with SA police, the Chief (President) and his commanders (Selebi) for not doing much except for public lip service in sorting out crime. It hit me on Saturdya 17.03.07 (the birth of Tinyiko) that with two daughters, I may have a higher chance of being visited by sorrow in my home than families that bear boy children - as the stats and the reality is that more girls suffer in the hands of paedophiles and maniacs of this society than do boy-children (they do suffer too but the stats or reality are not as steep in comparison). And on that Saturday, I also learnt that when you are a parent, crime stops being a racial or class issue to become more the issue of the future of your children - particularly girl children.

Made SA's best midwives

INTERNATIONAL BREAKING NEWS: Believe it or not, Izz delivered a bouncy cool baby gal at 12h30 today in his bedroom in Pretoria, South Africa. The mindboggling experience saw him lose his mind out of shock n the instincts kicking in. Reports say that he was fed sugar water to calm him down from the shock n desbelief. Other reports confirm that Mphoentle Tinyiko Mlambo n her mother are safe and resting in hospital. SAPA.

Well, that's the SMS sent on Saturday evening from my phone whilst still shaking from disbelief of the events that unfolded during the day. As I sat in the taxi to home, from hospital, I couldn't believe that I'd just delivered my own baby daughter. I had no previous experience, nor training in midwifery or First Aid. But of course, it follows naturally that I intend enrolling for a First Aid course urgently, as I had that plan, but I felt no urgency.

I would relay the incident of the delivery of the baby, but I am not going to as one of my friends, Cynthia, was upset slightly by the details I had been giving out to her. She simply logged off as I was busy relaying the gore of the day. Her reasons, that it's not fair on her as she still has to make love to her to her future hubby and to bare kids - go through the labour. So for the reasons of not discouraging other young women from child birth, the natural one of push and more push that is, I shall keep it to myself.

But, one of my friends tells me she is scared to death of blood, any amount of blood. Well, I am glad she was not Talia, my daughter, on that Saturday. Talia, poor baby, had to see it all start from one small scream, to countless supersonic screams from her mommy as she was popping out the baby. The baby who by the way, kept showing her head to say hi daddy, and then retreating back to her nine-months vacation environment. And finally, after I decided the medics may not be here now, I asked my wife to not pull back the newbie anymore but to push full force as I pull the tiny head fully covered with black hair. That's, ironically, when the water only broke and burst like a fountain to the direction of poor screaming Talia, at this time, her hands over her head, screams louder than her mommies and the music - at the start of the screams, I put the hi-fi volume up so as to not disturb or annoy my extremely racist neighbours - who have a tendency of calling the security on us (once though - but am still pissed off for that, topic for another discussion).

So yes, there were three people in the room, all in panic, and suddenly there were four, one with heavy screams, the other with sharp ear-shuttering screams and the other with soft, almost silent cute cry that said: The world, here I am to kick butt big time, for the next 80 (odd) years. Talia was screaming mainly cos of the blood - too much even for me to bare. I am still struggling with cleaning the sheet back to their original colour as my wife is incapacitated at the moment - more like resting from the five hour gore. Talia was delivered in exactly 17hours but my wife tells, amidst the height of the pains, me the pains were not as extreme as the four ones.

Interestingly, the first thing Talia said, almost immediately following her loud sharp screams were: Aaah papa, nana!, as I held the baby and wrapped her in a towel. Talia rushed to see the pretty cutie bundle as if she was not screaming moments ago. As for me, well, I would have screamed if I could, but was too scared to as I kept thinking of the delayed ambulance and what I would do if push came to shove - it already gone passed that as the head of the baby was starting to be visible. Why hadn't we called the ambulance earlier, well, my wife refused as she knows for a fact, after being told and being witness, that at Pretoria Academic Hospital they turn away preggies whose water hasn't broken. So she kept on saying, 'babes not yet, no'. I think she had anticipated the gore to last 17hours less 5 or so. Well, I called the ambulance anyways, although it was already too late as they found the baby lying there, umbilical cord in place, for nearly 15min and just playing with her hands and feet.

That's one of the most life changing experiences in my small life. Something that I had never anticipated happening to me at all. Next time it happens, not with my wife of course, I will be equipped to deal with it professionally as I will have concluded my Advanced First Aid course. As with my wife, brains flew out my head and I was only acting on instinct. And the guide, I don't know where it came from, but I suddenly had the insight of asking my wife, whilst she was screaming and pushing, what happened and what the procedure was with Talia's delivery. Although, I swear I couldn't hear a word of what she was saying cos of double screams - hers and Talia's - I followed some of her instructions.

Mother and baby safe and fit at home as I write this. And Mphoentle Tinyiko Mlambo taught me a lesson about preparation right at her first second of arrival. No doubt she is here to kick butt big time.

PS: Many more 'firsts' to come from Izz.

for pics: www.flickr.com/photos/izzyone