Southern Cross 1996

A Short Story.
From what I understand a single colour feather is an honour. I was told by the RSM Bennetts of the Transvaal Scottish Regiment, that the red feather in my Tam’o Shanter used to be white. Then, in Canada a mal Scotsman dipped his feather in the blood of a Frenchman and the Regiment has a nice red feather. We were both pretty tanked up after the completion of Exercise Southern Cross. The night before when the RSM and I left the braai, we sat drinking in his tent. I saw that he was mixing the huge Brandy he poured with Hunters Gold. I am not going to argue with an RSM about what one should mix Brandy with, so. The next day after he noticed the empty “Coke” cans he said, softly as we had bad headaches : “Bisset why the f*^k did you not tell me?” We retired back to his tent to discuss the matter, while the other men packed up. Hair of the dog, with coke this time.

Drugs…. alcohol is classed as a drug.

“I destroy homes, tear families… apart – take your children, and that’s just the start.
I’m more costly than diamonds, more costly than gold – the sorrow I bring is a sight to behold.
And if you need me, remember I’m easily found.
I live all around you, in schools and in town.
I live with the rich, I live with the poor, I live down the street, and maybe next door.
My power is awesome – try me you’ll see.
But if you do, you may never break free.
Just try me once and I might let you go, but try me twice, and I’ll own your soul.
When I possess you, you’ll steal and you’ll lie.
You’ll do what you have to just to get high.
The crimes you’ll commit, for my narcotic charms, will be worth the pleasure you’ll feel in your arms.
You’ll lie to your mother; you’ll steal from your dad.
When you see their tears, you should feel sad.
But you’ll forget your morals and how you were raised.
I’ll be your conscience, I’ll teach you my ways.
I take kids from parents, and parents from kids, I turn people from God, and separate from friends.
I’ll take everything from you, your looks and your pride, I’ll be with you always, right by your side.
You’ll give up everything – your family, your home, your friends, your money, then you’ll be alone.
I’ll take and I’ll take, till you have nothing more to give.
When I’m finished with you you’ll be lucky to live.
If you try me be warned this is no game.
If given the chance, I’ll drive you insane.
I’ll ravish your body, I’ll control your mind.
I’ll own you completely; your soul will be mine.
The nightmares I’ll give you while lying in bed.
The voices you’ll hear from inside your head.
The sweats, the shakes, the visions you’ll see.
I want you to know, these are all gifts from me.
But then it’s too late, and you’ll know in your heart, that you are mine, and we shall not part.
You’ll regret that you tried me, they always do.
But you came to me, not I to you.
You knew this would happen.
Many times you were told, but you challenged my power, and chose to be bold.
You could have said no, and just walked away.
If you could live that day over, now what would you say?
I’ll be your master; you will be my slave.
I’ll even go with you, when you go to your grave.
Now that you have met me, what will you do?
Will you try me or not?
Its all up to you.
I can bring you more misery than words can tell.
Come take my hand, let me lead you to hell.”
Signed
DRUGS

Making Amends

 

Charmaine moved out and took up the New Age philosophy in a big way. She seemed to have a knack for that sort of thing and soon was reading Tarot cards and studying to become a Reiki Master. She left her normal job and started doing stress therapy. She was a much happier person, but kept getting involved with maniacal men. One actually committed suicide just after they broke up. Charmaine was devastated. Eventually she did some work on fixing herself. We remained best of friends, and together we looked into co-dependent relationships and did a rather rough “inner-child” workshop together. For the next few years we would travel the country together, visiting Holistic Fairs, Buddhist Temples and the like. We both had an aversion to Christianity, what with her growing up Catholic and my father bringing me up as a Jehovah’s Witness.

Dougie was my guiding hand in the AA programme. I did not like what he told me most of the time, but he forced me to take an honest look at myself. He also said that if I wanted to get sober I would have to rejoin the human race. My reply was, ‘Had a look at that lot, don’t like ‘em, won’t join ‘em.’ My position remains stat.

I met some very interesting people at those meetings, and a few became good friends of mine. My first year of staying sober I met Angus and Eric, both of whom became important figures in my life. Angus was a Scotsman, born in Glasgow but due to English public schooling had not a trace of an accent. Eric was a computer guy with, at that time, one wife and three ex-wives to his name. Both were smooth-looking and even smoother talking – bloody made me jealous. Never mind … one night I attended a meeting and a striking young woman walked in with a rather scruffy fellow. Evonne was tall, well over six foot, a head and shoulders above most of the men in the room, with a lean, fit-looking body.

Uh oh … exotic animals and women, can’t keep away. After these meetings we normally had coffee, chatted and arranged to meet again later in the week. Being a support group, this was an accepted thing. We also made newcomers feel welcome.

Of course I could not do this programme without some sort of rebellion. One of the two steps I did not want to do fully were: Become willing to make amends to people I had harmed. I had a serious problem with the cop who’d put a gun to my head, and my ex-wife. For two years I horrified members each time this step came around by saying, ‘Alright, everyone except the cop and my ex. I still plan to snipe her as soon as I feel I can get away with it.’

The third year I did two things. I walked into the police station, went into their bar and publicly apologized to Swanie. I also hired a private detective to find my ex-wife. I did not get a home address but one for her place of employment. It was less than 2km from Sound and Light City, just over the highway. At this stage of my life I had been taught to think before I act, so I did not rush over there full of apologies. Besides, sorry and making amends are two different animals. I don’t think I can ever make direct amends to Tracy, but I do try make amends to the Universe by treating people, especially women, better than I did her and Charmaine. I do not always succeed. The upshot was, considering what I had done and said to this woman during our divorce, she was not going to be glad to see me.

To overcome this barrier I wrote a letter, explaining that I had being sober for a couple of years, trying to apologise, stating that there was nothing I could do to make things right and so on. I also gave my contact details and said if ever she wanted to talk, she could contact me. This done, I proceeded to her company. Arriving at the reception area I politely asked if I could see her. She was paged but as she came through the door she saw me and made a bee-line for the ladies’ toilets and locked herself in. I was not about to shout through the door so just pushed the envelope under the door and made a tactical withdrawal. She did not contact me. Considering how many times I had broken my promise to stay sober while we lived together, I don’t think she believed my letter. I waited 6 months, then had another letter hand-delivered, just stating that I was still sober and did she want to talk. Again, no reply. I did that for the next year with the same result. I was saddened by this but not surprised; my childhood sweetheart would never speak to me again, but I had to move on. This particular attempt at making amends was now done; I had many more to do.

 

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Bimbi’s Letters

 

From the Chronicles of The Mexican Horse Thief – I. Angola. You can read the whole story, follow the link: Chronicles I 

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Bimbi’s Letters

In any military situation the Brass knows that letters from home are important for morale, so Executive Outcomes set up a similar system to what most of us had known in the SADF. Obviously without all the bullshit, like having to do push-ups if your letter smelt of perfume. Every plane that came in had some mail for us. We could get stamps at the canteen and our letters would be posted from “The House” in Pretoria. My mail was mainly from Charmaine; she even sent some drawings based on what I wrote about camp life.
We had been in Angola for a few months when I noticed that Bimbi never received any mail. So I watched to see if he ever sent any out; he did not. I knew he had a wife and kids living in Phalaborwa, although he was Congolese. At this stage the South African news was full of stories, some actually true, of a bunch of South African mercenaries in Angola. A few guys had been killed already and the newspapers were having a field day. Charmaine kept a photo of three bodies; dead and half-naked, that Savimbi had sent to the South African news services as a warning to keep South African soldiers out of his country. I’m sure all the wives and girlfriends were eagerly waiting for mail.
One day I asked Bimbi why he did not write, would his wife not be worrying about him? Now, Bimbi was a really black man, not some shade of brown. If he could have, he would have blushed. The story was, he and his wife had no common written language. Although he could speak five or six languages, he could only write in French. His wife, being from Venda, probably had never even heard French before she met Bimbi.
I offered to write on his behalf, and, after much cajoling, Bimbi arrived in my tent late one night. It was touching to see how embarrassed this hard-assed ex-5 Recce soldier was; so shy about his personal life. He told me to write that he was well and to ask how are the kids. That was it! When I asked if I should write that he missed his wife, he nearly crawled under the bed. I then teased him further. I asked if I should tell her how much he loved her, too. We eventually sent a letter off. His next embarrassment came when Goodness, his wife, replied. The poor bugger couldn’t read English either. So he snuck into my tent late one night again and very shamefacedly asked me if I would mind reading his letter. The cost to him must have been enormous. He was pleased that his family were all well. Bimbi was a truly brave man, in every respect, and I liked him all the more for it.

 

 

Humility and Pride

Many of the Strange Classrooms I attend deal with this thing called humility, and sometimes I feel that the thinking of a few of the “teachers/ Old Timers” in the Classrooms, is flawed. As you may know by now, I DO NOT follow anyone or any idea blindly, and often get told that my questioning is arrogant and shows a distinct lack of humility on my part.

Humility: the quality or state of not thinking you are better than other people.

Humility has a spiritual energy to it. It allows honesty and presence. It admits mistakes but doesn’t beat itself up about them. Humility makes amends. Humility is not inflated by ego or by people-pleasing attitudes and behaviors. Humility is a quiet energy, but it’s not shy. Humility is open and willing to accept what is. Humility receives and adjusts, but does not measure.

Humiliation, on the other hand, has an injured energy to it. It is full of shame, blame, anger and defeat. Humiliation is full of sadness and defensiveness. It feels stepped on, crunched down, a helpless victim. Humiliation is too shocked to move. The flame of humiliation burns low. It wants to disappear. It is in too much pain to look at itself. It wants others to look away. It will lash out at itself and others.

To live without humiliation is not to be mistaken for being arrogant or full of pride.

Pride: another word and concept that seems to be misused and abused. Having pride in oneself is not a bad thing. With all the sayings abounding about pride I notice the focus is generally on the bad side of the meaning of pride i.e. “Pride come before a fall.”

 

Without the other side of pride humiliation is inevitable and true humility, impossible.

Pride also refers to a satisfied sense of attachment toward one’s own or another’s choices and actions and if one is not proud of one’s choice, either one will defend oneself, destroying any humility one may have or; hide the choice by hiding it away or justifying it in some way. Here however one has to be very, very careful of what one is proud of and if wrong have the ability/humility to admit the mistake, receive and adjust.

This is, as always, just one man’s opinion.

 

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Resentment

In my one type of Strange Classroom I grow weary of this word, resentment. It is said, and it most likely true, that the number one offender causing a recovering alcoholic/Drug Addict to relapse is holding on to resentment.  The spiritual/religious people are much the same, love everyone etc. Why I grow weary of this is that I get told that I hold resentments therefore I go drinking every so often.

As I am there to learn even though I disagree with the person, who usually knows me not at all, I thought I had better double check. My thoughts till now are you cannot resent a person that means nothing to you and the past is but an interesting history to write about in my Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief. In order to see if one DOES carry resentment it is a good idea to find out exactly what resentment consists of; looking up the word is the best place to start.

Resentment plural: resentments 1. bitter indignation at having been treated unfairly. synonyms: bitterness, indignation, irritation, pique, displeasure, dissatisfaction, disgruntlement, discontentment, discontent, , bad feelings, hard feelings, ill feelings,  rancour, animosity, hostility, jaundice, antagonism, enmity, hatred, hate; envy, jealousy, malice, ill will, grudge, grievance.

Reading the synonyms I know every living person has had resentments, often!  I also believe it is necessary to have some of these towards certain people, places and things, and equally as important to not have a few towards anything.  Looking back at the original definition perhaps the word bitter is the key?  If any of the synonyms are combined with bitter one has a problem. Bitter relates to bile and bile makes one sick, so best do something about the bitter then. The word that links up with bitter/bile is jaundice as anyone that has had that sickness will know. Same with rancor, envy and jealousy.

In order to get rid of these one has to look at the situation, see it for what it really is and adopt an intellectual view of the thing causing the resentment. That will get rid of the bitterness, as bitterness, rancor, envy and jealousy are more emotional than intellectual. Last word in this group, malice. With out the bitterness it is impossible to act with malice. The rest? Indignation, irritation, pique, displeasure, dissatisfaction, disgruntlement, discontentment, discontent,  bad feelings, hard feelings, ill feelings,  animosity, hostility,  antagonism, enmity, hatred, hate, ill will, grudge, grievance. I have them all and no matter which Strange Classroom  tells me this is bad/evil and will do me no good; I shall always have some of them for some people and ALL of them for others.

If you think you are better than I, go hug a pedophile, a rapist, an ANC  president or any of his cadres, and be damned.

 

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Drunk Women and Homicide

Hidden in the findings of the South African Medical Research Council, taken in the Western Cape a few years back, is a study on the role of alcohol use in female homicide cases. It was not what I expected.

“Woman who consume excessive alcohol face an increased risk of signing their warrant for their own death by way of interpersonal homicide.”

The survey was conducted by Cape Town based Gender and Health Research Unit and showed that over half of the female homicide victims admitted to the mortuary on any given year, had a blood alcohol concentration well over the legal limit for driving. The homicide was usually caused by an intimate partner. The victims were usually killed by a sharp or blunt weapon. (It is a standing joke on how the Western Cape Coloureds always have a knife.) South Africa has one of the highest violent crime rates in the world and by, coincidence also one of the highest, per capita, consumption rates of hard alcohol. In a study in 2006 South Africans – 20,1 lt per adult per year and those crazy vodka swilling Russians only 16, 3 lt per year.

Why this information caught my attention is, for years I could not work out why two of my female relatives were always getting involved with men that beat them. I studied all sorts of reports by psychologists and other educated people and learned very little of value. A lot of theories of how these women chose those type of men because of… again a whole lot of theories. None of this was of any use to me in order to help those relatives. The one relative I acted and used force to get rid of a couple of the violent men, and got no thanks for that, in fact I ended up the bad guy. Having observed this, when the other relative, years, later requested I “do” something to eliminate her then spouse I respectively declined to get involved. I did even a few years after that remove her from the situation, but she just went back. I had many years of worrying I would get a phone call that one of these women was dead. It did happen once so far but the cause of death was not due to violence. Both were like many members of my family, alcoholics; one admitted it but did little combat the problem and died from it. The other nearly took my head off when I suggested she is just like me in that regard.

Reading this a light bulb went off, it is often the woman that has to change!  Recalling my still living relative and how she behaves and talks when drunk I think she would try the patience of a Saint. While one can hardly condone murder it is sometimes understandable.

 

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THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF

Here is a story of developing and breaking an addiction, while dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome at the same time.

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Seeking Forgiveness

In one of my Strange Classrooms the other night a young lady, Dominique, brought up the subject of forgiveness. Not forgiving others, but asking someone to forgive you. She was devastated as her apology was rejected by the person that she asked for forgiveness from. Now I have not thought about that for a long time. Sixteen years ago in a different Strange Classroom I was shown, and advised to do what is called Step 9, that states, “Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.”  I do not want to go into the whole process of how one gets to Step 9 right now, or even discuss the Step in detail itself, but by doing this Step I learned a lot about the difference between, an apology, an amend and very importantly, how to deal with rejection of my attempts to get forgiveness from certain people.  As it was so long ago I had forgotten how hard and how much courage it takes to attempt to get forgiveness from a person. Then the devastating effect of the rejection!

Thinking back on how long this process took me, and the lengths I took to do the Step to the very best of my ability, it was no easy task, I had a LOT of people on my list. Before I started I knew some of the people would reject my attempts, so I took this under discussion with my Teachers. This is what I learned, some from them and some from experience and much thinking on the topic.

The most important step, for the want of a better word, is being honest. Honest with yourself. Look at why you came to this point of needing to ask for forgiveness, what part did the person that you want forgiveness from play in the whole scenario? Then see if you really want forgiveness or are just doing what society/religion/people expect of you. Most of the time the person you feel so bad about did things wrong and helped put you in the space where you reacted badly. Now here is the difficult part! You have to take their “sins” out of the deal and look just at your own. No doubt you had a few. Then do not rush out and say sorry for everything, first forgive YOURSELF for being human, make it right with the God of your understanding.  By doing this you give yourself the courage to face any reaction you will get from the person you approach and most importantly you will only apologize for the things that you actually did wrong!  Now the good part, whether that person forgives you or not, is irrelevant in the greater scheme of things! Sure it is nice to be forgiven, especially if the person genuinely forgives you. (Rare) but if they do not, the problem is theirs and not yours, they will have to deal with the resentment and the consequences of that.  You on the other hand, can move on.

That said and done, there are some people in this world that their forgiveness means nothing, absolutely NOTHING to me. Others that I need not make any attempt to gain forgiveness, as an honest appraisal shows I may have been bloody rude, but committed no sin as such.  But in order to have this elusive serenity, I catch a glimpse of now and then, I have to make amends for my part of the conflict. This is vastly different than apologizing and also needs not involve the idiots I do not wish to ever see again, never mind speak to!

 

A compilation of my Strange Classrooms is soon to be released, please “Like” and  keep an eye on this page.

THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF

Here is a story of developing and breaking an addiction, while dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome at the same time.

THE CHRONICLES OF THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF II

 

 

Toxic Relationships

 

Basically the only way to deal with toxic family members, friends/lovers, is to either create strong boundaries or cut them out completely. There really is no in between. Your toxic family member /friend/lover may try to guilt trip you or become nasty with you. They will likely tell others you are crazy and make crazy accusations. This is all very common and just reveals the toxic family member’s/lover/friend’s character further. Don’t let them get you down as this how some people deal with life. Fortunately we all don’t have to go through life living this way if we are able to recognize toxicity within our own relationships with others and correct it.

 

 

A compilation of my Strange Classrooms is soon to be released, please “Like” and  keep an eye on this page.

THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF

Here is a story of developing and breaking an addiction, while dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome at the same time.

THE CHRONICLES OF THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF II

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Responsibility of your actions

Not the first lesson I learned in my Strange Classrooms unfortunately, as without grasping the concept of this simple statement, all other lessons are null and void. To actually understand it and then act on it is the key. So simple and if each person did this we would live in an almost perfect world. Even if we only had the people with good intentions doing this it would improve this messed up world immensely.

The biggest problem lies not with the person that just refuses outright to take responsibility; they are in a minority, believe it or not. The main problem can be summed up in one word, justification. Replace responsibility with justification and there lies the problem.

Justification of your actions.

Well, here we can go from the sublime to the ridiculous in no time flat.   My favorite was when Hansie Cronje , after accepting bribes to throw cricket matches, claimed the Devil made him do it! He has a lot of company, millions of people blame the Devil for their lack of moral fibre, an easy but well worn excuse. The more sophisticated way of shifting blame is to claim a medical condition caused one to act in an unacceptable manner. The courts are full of people that claim temporary insanity, at the cost of millions of tax Dollars, for the prosecution to prove otherwise. But modern society is on the side of the people that prefer to justify not take responsibility. The medical profession makes millions out of perpetrating this concept, a new disease is invented on a regular bases; so now every eventuality, if not covered, will be. The best example was when the American Medical profession decided that obesity is a medical disorder. I think McDonalds funded the pseudo research into that one! Now one can eat like a pig and have an unhealthy lifestyle as one wishes, never exercise and not feel bad at the state ones body is in. They are NOT fat lazy slobs, they have a proven medical disorder. The American medical profession has not come up with a cure for this terrible affliction yet, but curtain countries, a lot in Africa, have. It is called poverty.

In my one of my Strange Classrooms I have the fucking horrors when a speaker stands up and begins his speech with an apology. “ Please excuse me if I ramble a bit, but you see I have  ABCWXYZ .”(that ABC thing that causes you to not be able to concentrate). Or , “ I am so grateful to this program for breaking my addiction and sorting my life out, now I only fuck up because, you see I have…” You can choose which ABC to put in, I have heard them all.

Of course I am going to get some very angry retorts about this viewpoint/opinion, but before you attack me please understand that I am not really responsible for what I think or write. You see I am an alcoholic for one, worse, as I do not seek medical help, a phobia I have, relating to some terrible childhood trauma where a doctor almost killed me; but I think if I did, the medical chaps would be able to prove these disorders too:

Bi-polar, ADHD, PTSD and a few others .

I can justify any bad, lazy, shit action I wish!

A compilation of my Strange Classrooms is soon to be released, please “Like” and  keep an eye on this page.

THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF

Here is a story of developing and breaking an addiction, while dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome at the same time.

THE CHRONICLES OF THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF II