Soweto: Boere with Vuvuzelas
2 June 2010
Last week my friend Jan, a very talented photographer and fellow pavementista, told me over cappuccino at Bicccs, our regular morning coffee haunt, that he had gone to Soweto to watch the Super 14 Rugby semi-final match between the Bulls and the visiting Kiwi Crusaders team at Orlando Stadium. Jan waxed lyrical. He said that the vibe was fantastic and that it ranked as one of the best experiences of his life. He socialized with the incredibly friendly and welcoming local residents, drank beer in several shebeens and took over two hundred photographs.
I had visited Soweto before on two previous occasions, once as a law student in the mid eighties as part of a forensic medicine group, to attend an autopsy at Baragwanath Hospital, not a very pleasant experience and then again in the early nineties to escort a visiting American who wanted to drive through Soweto with obligatory stops at a shebeen and a spaza shop. I had never attended a major sporting event in Soweto and being a rabid rugby follower, I was keen as mustard to watch the Super 14 Rugby final between the Bulls and the Stormers.
I need to state at the outset that I am neither a Bulls nor a Stormers fan. I am a long-suffering Lions supporter who lives in eternal hope each year that my team will find the magic which presently eludes them but which they once had in bucket loads under the likes of Gerald Bosch, Paul Bayvel, Gerrie Germishuis, Ray Mordt, Garth Wright and Kobus Wiese to name but a few Transvaal and Springbok rugby stars of old. I grew up on the East Rand and played my school and club rugby in Kempton Park and at Wits. My team lost every game they played this year in the Super 14 but I still love them and support them. You don’t suddenly switch sides or allegiance when things go badly for you. Things will eventually turn for the Lions as it has for the Bulls and the Stormers.
To mark the historical significance of the occasion, I did what was once unthinkable. I bought a Bulls rugby cap for R60 and wore it. I reasoned, everybody loves a winner and now being a resident of Pretoria, no harm done to recognize the success and outstanding achievements of the Bulls team both on and off the field and to congratulate them for seizing the initiative and for having the foresight to choose Orlando Stadium in Soweto to host the semi-final and the final. A move admittedly forced by necessity but an inspired move nonetheless. Why didn’t my own team the Lions think of this? Orlando Stadium is literally in their back yard. Now they’ve suddenly woken up and debating whether they should host a money-spinning rugby test at Soccer City.
Rugby is like a religion in my life. It is the only sport I loved playing and the only sport I now love watching as a spectator and arm-chair critic. Like many other men I know, I live for Saturdays so that I can decline boring dinner and birthday invitations and watch rugby instead. Cardiologists may disagree with me but there is nothing to beat a weekly diet of salted beef biltong and blood sports to satisfy our most primal and atavistic instincts.
Soccer may be acknowledged worldwide as the beautiful game but I only have eyes for rugby. This is an anomaly in my culture because most Greek men I know are soccer mad. Rugby is an unashamed tribute to the virtues of testosterone. It is a celebration of sheer brute force and physicality. Nothing can match the controlled savagery of a rugby match in the toughest rugby competition in the world played between the teams of the world’s three leading rugby playing nations. Only rugby manages to combine the speed, efficiency and accuracy of the rapier with the brutality of the bludgeon. With their scrum caps, their strapped, bandaged and taped hands, arms and thighs, rugby players look more like modern gladiators than sportsmen. In comparison far too may soccer players behave and look like indulged, pampered and spoilt prima donnas.
You won’t find rugby players and their coaches demanding to have special hands-free toilets and bidets installed in their hotel rooms. Show a rugby player to a bidet and the chances are he’ll rinse his gum guard or wash his socks in the damn thing. Some of the venues hosting the visiting FIFA World Cup soccer nations have gone to great lengths to ensure that each soccer player’s room is identical down to the last, minute detail, lest an oversight hurts their feelings and affects their performance. When did soccer become like this? Soccer players usually came from poor families and were tough, determined individuals who knew how to survive and rise above the challenges in their gritty, crime-ridden neighbourhoods. As one Greek commentator put it, soccer was the ballet of the working class. Now the empty cult of celebrity and far too much easy money has ruined them.
By Tuesday morning I had given up all hope of going to the final. Several friends went to Computicket but all the tickets had sold out. I called a few friends who had contacts in the rugby fraternity but they were not too optimistic about our chances of securing tickets. Then on Friday night I got a call from my friend Louis, a devoted if not fanatical Bulls supporter with the good news that he had a ticket for me. I was ecstatic. We were going to the final.
On Saturday morning we queued in the mild autumn sun at Supersport Park in Centurion to board the line of City of Tshwane municipal buses waiting to take us to Soweto. The Bulls faithful were there in all shapes and sizes. A sea of blue in full battle dress, some faces looking like Avatars with horns plastered in blue war paint carrying campaign flags and battle ribbons at totem pole height, wearing their Bulls jerseys, caps, blue leather cowboy hats and scarves of their beloved team. Some mostly male fans looked like urban Vikings, wearing their blue plastic construction hats with massive bulls horns attached to either side of their hard hats.
On the fashion front and with winter upon us, “Puss in Boots” season has finally arrived. It’s that time of the year when women all over South Africa do the unthinkable and start behaving like lemmings. They do their utmost to look alike by tucking their jeans into knee high boots. The Bulls female boot brigade was represented in significant numbers. They wore tight jeans with sequined bottoms and flat soled suede boots, boots decorated with straps and tassels, shiny black leather boots to make any Gestapo officer green with envy, lethal looking sharp toed boots and boots with dangerously high stiletto heels resembling miniature Eiffel Towers. Some of the more stylish and original thinking female fans had their hair held back with Alice bands adorned with small flashing blue devils horns.
The drinking started early. Some beefy fellows were clutching what looked like giant plastic pitchers filled with a dark brew of sorts. As soon as we got onto the bus, my travelling companions cracked open and downed a few cans of cold Klipdrift brandy conveniently pre-mixed with Cola for such occasions. The buses we travelled on looked new and were very clean but the seats were far too narrow and completely unsuitable for larger South African physiques. They were clearly designed for tofu eating Japanese train gropers and not for burly pap, boerewors en vleis Bulls supporters.
Our bus driver pulled off the highway twice en route to Soweto, the first time to get directions. It seems we had a black bus driver who had never been to Soweto before. A few minutes later a car flying South African, Bafana and Bulls flags pulled over in front of us and another black man handed a map to our driver. Then we waited for more flag flying buses to pass us and we joined a convoy of buses headed for Soweto.
We stopped again at the side of the highway just before the Rivonia off ramp for what we use to call a “piss parade” in the army. A dozen or so men quickly scrambled off the bus and climbed up a steep grass embankment. Here they turned their backs to the bus, lined up almost in formation and relieved themselves overlooking the Woodmead golf course and the Sandton skyline beyond, in full view of the other motorists on the highway. A few even found a free hand and the time to light a cigarette while they were doing this. I marveled at their dexterity. This was all new to me and some of the females on the bus cheered them on and even took photographs of their men folk with their cell phones. Someone needs to brief FIFA and the soccer fans visiting us from abroad that this is a time honoured local custom like braaivleis adhered to and enjoyed by all races and something you cannot exactly do in Sydney or Zurich. Once you have experienced how liberating it is to pee in the great outdoors under an African sky you’ll be hooked forever and return to Africa for more fun and occasional violence.
Under a pale blue Highveld sky we drove past the caked yellow soil of Johannesburg’s distinctive mine dumps and then turned off the Golden Highway and drove the final stretch into Soweto. The bus pulled up outside Orlando Stadium. For most it was their first time in Soweto and I heard someone comment with surprise in Afrikaans that the place didn’t look too bad. We headed straight for the beer tent to down a few quick cold lagers and to take in the unfolding scene. A stylishly dressed young black man stood next to us beside his pretty and petite kugela girlfriend. She wore expensive sunglasses and like her white sisters from Pretoria, she too had tucked her jeans into shiny knee high boots. He wore a black plastic hard hat with the skyline of Johannesburg and the SA flag carved in front of his hat. He wore a Bulls flag, draped proudly around his shoulders like an ankle length cape. He smiled and posed for photographs.
Another altogether less stylish young white man wore his Bulls cap back to front and had taken the trouble to sew a very long, stuffed, homemade blue penis complete with attached testicles onto the back of his cap. He looked very pleased with himself as it dangled and bounced in front of his eyes. I was tempted to call him Mr. Dickhead but thought better of it because he looked very fit despite being completely plastered. My travelling companions were a very agreeable, polite and hospitable bunch probably because they were educated at the University of the Free State, the home of all pleasant and moderate Afrikaners and the team I support when not shouting for the Lions. They shared their food, drink and biltong with me and insisted on speaking English to me even though I replied in fluent Afrikaans. There was a constant exchange of good natured banter, rivalry and jokes between the Bulls fans and the handful of Stormers supporters standing at the Castle watering hole. SA Breweries must be smiling after Saturday.
The most remarkable thing about Saturday was to see Afrikaans speaking Bulls fans from Pretoria adopting the vuvuzela as their own and the Sowetans embracing the Bulls as their own team alongside Orlando Pirates and Bafana Bafana. I have no doubt that the Bulls now have a larger black fan base than all the other Super 14 rugby franchises in South Africa. Here were the Boere, an endangered rugby mad minority adopting the symbol and customs of the majority and of a sporting code they don’t much care for. People carried vuvuzelas of various sizes and colours and blew on them continuously like seasoned soccer fans. The noise in the stadium at times was deafening and some Stormers supporters sitting in front of us wore ear plugs. They were not a very friendly bunch. An elderly woman, somebody’s grandmother back in Belville showed my friend Louis the finger when he jokingly told her to sit elsewhere.
Some size obsessed individuals wanting to impress the locals, brandished two metre long vuvuzelas on steroids. My friend Louis handed me a yellow vuvuzela courtesy of Liberty, with a sticker “Own Your Life” stuck onto it. I immediately tore off the sticker but kept the vuvuzela. The suits and actuaries at Liberty have yet to figure out that it is far better to live your life than pay Liberty to help you own something which is yours to start with anyway. This was the same company that refused to pay for my son’s delivery on a technicality after we had paid them premiums for a year. We fell out of their acceptable prescribed window by two weeks. Their share price is not doing too well.
We left the beer tent in search of more beer and fun at the Wonder Bar and shebeen across the road from the stadium next door to the Tsotsetsi Tuck Shop where they sell a quart or a 750ml bottle of Black Lable beer for R14. The bar is situated next door to the Tsotsetsi Tuck Shop. A few young black boys gathered around us and decided to hold an impromptu vuvuzela blowing competition. We promised them that there would be prizes for the best vuvuzela player. They blew their hearts out and all walked away winners clutching R10 and R20 notes. One little guy had somehow missed out on all the action and felt excluded from our spontaneous largesse. He tugged on my friend Louis’ sleeve, who stands over two metres tall and asked him for money. Louis asked him: “If I give you R10 what will you do in exchange?” “I’ll give you R3 change,” came back the cheeky reply.
Another enterprising young lad who could not have been much older than twelve or thirteen was trying to sell a pair of blue plastic devils horns. One of my drinking buddies thought he heard the boy ask for R50, which he would have paid had the boy not corrected him and said with indignation, “No sir, R50 is far too much, the correct price is R30.” Then my friend told the lad that he wanted to buy a back pack. The lad replied in perfect English that he was in charge of “merchandising.” He would go back to his “associates” and return with the back pack. This young boy has a bright future ahead of him and could teach MBA’s a thing or two.
We headed back towards the stadium to take up our seats, to avoid the last minute rush. A tall blonde man walking next to me, a complete stranger, spoke to me in Afrikaans and told me that the last time he had visited Soweto it was on a police township patrol riding in the back of a Casspir. I smiled and nodded. This time around he was far more welcome in Soweto but I somehow wonder if the significance of his return meant anything to him. It does however show that South Africa has changed for the better and come a long way since the dark days of the state of emergency in the mid 1980’s.
The rebuilt Orlando Stadium does not look like much on the outside. Compared to Soccer City, its flashier, larger and more expensive counterpart nearby, it looks very serious and utilitarian with its steel roof cladding. But once you step inside it is a beautiful stadium, with no sharp lines or edges. It is an intimate, enveloping stadium, with good seating and a perfect pitch which brings you closer to the action. It has excellent, clean facilities, wide passages and entrances for easy access and exit.
As for the match itself, it was a fast and furious final, a classic derby between two worthy adversaries and traditional rivals. There was drama, bone-crunching tackles galore as players put their bodies on the line and much blood letting as there always is in these fiercely contested encounters. In the end the Bulls had the composure, the experience and the big match temperament to win. It was a historic match at a historic stadium at a significant time in South Africa’s young developing democracy. The Bulls took the trophy but South Africa won on all other fronts. South Africa will continue to surprise and confound its harshest critics as it matures. South African’s are wonderful, talented, dynamic, resourceful and resilient people when we are not killing each other over a car, a cell phone or a farm. Our farmers, plot dwellers and home owners rightly feel that a genocidal war is being waged against them by callous criminals and nobody in our government cares enough to do anything to stop the killings.
All the usual high-ranking politicians attended the final. They sensed a photo opportunity and were quick to proclaim a turning point. They tried in vain to find something new and meaningful to say but mostly all they managed was to try and bask in the reflected glory of an event much larger than themselves. In the end their words were empty rhetoric and they were rightly eclipsed and reduced to an irrelevant side-show by the magnitude of the event. President Jacob Zuma was there, as was the leader of the DA and Premier of the Western Cape, Mrs Helen Zille. Trevor Manuel and his wife Maria Ramos sat snuggled closely together, looking like a happy couple enjoying the event.
After the match and once out of the stadium it took only five minutes to board our bus, this time a luxury coach with comfortable padded seats and a black bus driver who was listening to Classic FM before he switched to a more contemporary music station for his passengers. The metro police for once did something useful and with blue lights flashing escorted a convoy of slow moving busses onto the highway and all the way back to Centurion. It was a very well run logistical operation from beginning to end and it was good to see things run so smoothly in South Africa without major incident.
Ben Trovato in his recent Sunday Times Whipping Boy column compared Orlando to the new Saigon, a comparison with the Vietnam War which somehow escapes me. He wrote about the event in unflattering and offensive terms as “the day rugby forced hardened racists to mingle with hardened criminals.” He says he is going to make a movie about the day and call it “Convictus.” This portrayal is neither fair nor accurate even though it is written in jest. The one good thing to emerge out of FIFA’s occupation of our country is that it forced the Bulls to host the final in Soweto but they could just as easily have decided to stage the match at Ellis Park or in Witbank for that matter but instead and to their credit they chose Orlando Stadium.
I don’t usually enjoy large crowds and stadium experiences but last Saturday in Orlando gave me hope of a promised and long awaited normality in our relations with other South Africans. It made me proud and happy to be a South African. More than one person said that they would gladly return to Soweto. Soweto is the matriarch of the old townships with impeccable political and struggle credentials. It has always been a far more cerebral and celebrated place as the home of South Africa’s pre-eminent black political, cultural and economic elite.
And I’ll wager that given a choice a black township resident relates more and places greater trust in a gruff, no nonsense, straight talking and sometimes abrasive Afrikaner than a patronizing but polite Anglo liberal. They have a greater chance of finding common ground. At least the Afrikaner is more honest. Some people criticize them as being boorish, crude and unsophisticated but there was a time when “sophisticated” with its roots in the Greek word “sophistry” was not a very flattering term.
Afrikaners are the unrecognized and uncelebrated backbone of this country. They are the whites who will stay because they have no choice but to make this country work. They are the people we turn to when we need the leak in our roof fixed, our body, car or computer repaired. We are all crippled by the racist baggage of our past which we need to acknowledge and then hopefully discard our collective guilt so that we can move forward. Nelson Mandela was right when he said that sport has the power to build bridges and unite us. Some cynics say that Saturday’s event changes nothing and it is premature to talk about national unity and forging a national identity. Admittedly we still have a long way to go before we can fully normalize race relations in our country but Saturday’s final was a very good start and the more such events take place the better our chances to succeed.
We can all learn from the fine example of the people of Soweto. Sowetans understand and live the ancient Greek concept of philoxenia, the very appealing, inspirational and aspirational idea that to be fully human we need to welcome and embrace strangers with warmth, friendship and hospitality. In Soweto they call this ubuntu. Ubuntu is all about goodwill and celebrating a shared identity and common humanity regardless of colour, religion or political affiliation. Thankfully South Africa has always had religious tolerance but as Clem Sunter points out we need a lot more social harmony and cohesion, an emerging national consensus if we are going to achieve long term success as a country.
Graeme Hoskens writing and reporting for the Pretoria News got it right and summed it up the whole experience in one word, ubuntu. He said that he was “overwhelmed by the sense of true friendship” he felt. He wrote that the event made him feel that “we all have one thing in common. We are all proudly South African filled with the spirit of ubuntu.” Other people had similar stories to tell. The residents of Soweto were pleased and happy us whiteys were there. Cape based Ben Trovato is out of touch. He got it wrong this time because he wasn’t there. Maybe it’s a case of sour grapes coming from the Cape.
I now know that I can return to Soweto any time to watch my favourite rugby games in a tavern or a shebeen. I know that I will be warmly received and welcomed like a friend especially if I wear my newly acquired Bulls cap. It will probably be safer, cheaper and a lot more fun than sitting in Waterkloof. In time I may even convince them to install a cappuccino machine and put chakalaka on my panini.
I’m happy to report that ubuntu is alive and well in Soweto. You will make faster, genuine and more enduring friendships in Pretoria and Soweto than you ever will in Cape Town or Perth. The next time there is a major rugby match or test I shall hold my clenched fist in the air and shout:
Amandla!
Awetu!
I’m on my way to Soweto!
Costas Ayiotis
Pretoria
Monday, January 24, 2011
Football Fever
April 2010
The volcano in Iceland continues to blow its top, belching dense columns of fine ash and superfine glass particles several kilometres into the upper atmosphere. Alarmed scientists report that the only thing denser on the planet is the IQ of some of South Africa’s members of parliament. While Iceland’s Eyjafjallajoekull volcano grounds international airlines bringing large parts of Europe to a virtual standstill, South Africa continues with its frantic last minute preparations to host a major international sporting event featuring the beautiful game. The navy has been placed on full alert and prostitutes in Johannesburg, Bloemfontein and Durban are following the fine example of their colleagues in Cape Town and brushing up on their German vocabulary and other foreign languages.
In case anyone was wondering, this is “The Family’s” soccer tournament, not South Africa’s. South Africa is merely the host country, privileged to foot the bill as it were. But what’s a few billion rand between friends and family. And we all know that relationships within families are often fraught with difficulties especially when money is involved but South Africans can at least console themselves with the comforting thought that we are now members of a small elite club within the global football family.
A quick look at all the badges, posters, flags and banners also confirms however that we are just the supporting act in a much greater production. The promotional material refers to the organising body and South Africa is merely mentioned next to the numbers “2010.” And as in any parasitic relationship, for example untreated malaria, when parasites are left undisturbed to live in the human body, be it in the brain, liver or bloodstream, the parasites run roughshod over everything, take over and eventually kill the host. But let’s not get too carried away and become overly pessimistic about our future survival prospects after the tournament, when the winter of our discontent sets in, the visitors have come and gone, the parades have passed, the noise subsides, the Vuvuzela’s are silent, the drums stop beating, the dancing is over, the lights finally go out and the coffers are empty.
Most governments and politicians especially in Africa are not known for their concern about the welfare of their citizens. They are happy to line their own pockets and buy expensive toys rather than focus on meaningful socio-economic upliftment programmes. Spending funds on education, health, housing and job creation to improve the lot of your people sets a dangerous precedent and people complain and are so ungrateful even at the best of times. Treat people too well and your citizens may reach a level of maturity where they start thinking for themselves and eventually they bite the hand that occasionally throws scraps at them from the feeding trough. They become so informed and empowered that they vote you out of power if you fail to deliver, so it’s far better to make idle promises and keep them dispossessed and downtrodden. That’s the African way. So when the mob occasionally gets restless, like the emperor’s in ancient Rome you give them “bread and circuses” to distract them from their daily problems.
But let’s focus on the present for a moment. So, on a lighter note I would like to inform all the sceptics out there that South Africa is most definitely ready to host this particular “circus.” I know this because I have become an unofficial and self-appointed football spotter. I have personally seen several giant soccer balls with their distinctive black and white panels, sliced in half and affixed to the sides of buildings. There’s a giant soccer ball stuck on the side of one of the main parking buildings at O R Tambo International Airport as you approach it from the south. Soccer balls have been stuck onto trains, busses, taxis, on the roof tops of delivery trucks and SUV’s. Pretoria being the nation’s capital has a giant but complete soccer ball wrapped around the Telkom tower. If we ever needed a sign that South Africa is ready to host this major event after spending R63 billion, this has to be it.
The organising body or Football Family as they like to call themselves are very excited that this phenomenon is gathering momentum as it not only creates great excitement, anticipation, goodwill and enthusiasm for the prestigious tournament but also generates extra fees and royalties for them. The choice of the word “family” is an interesting one. What did they have in mind? A traditional family in the old-fashioned, shared-identity, wholesome, meatloaf and picket fence sense of the word or “family” in the other more questionable and decidedly less friendly sense of the word?
In any event, this particular Family is involved in legitimate enterprises, they are masters in the art of persuasion and they have an army of lawyers at their disposal just in case things don’t go their way. The Family is encouraging all South Africans to stick or attach either complete or sliced in half giant soccer balls onto any surface they deem appropriate. The giant balls are available exclusively from the Family’s local offices and made from a special indestructible, weatherproof and rocket resistant type of Kevlar manufactured in a secret facility in Israel disguised as a kibbutz. All you have to do is apply to the Family for the necessary permits, pay the sliding scale licencing fee which varies according to the size of the balls chosen and the significance or prominence of the desired location and finally you have to meet all of the Family’s stringent technical and aesthetic specifications.
Pythagoras said there are three kinds of people who attend the Games. You get the competitors or players, the spectators and finally you get that special breed who come to buy and sell under the stands. The Family have been in the event-business a long time. They are shrewd and wily old foxes who know how to work with other people’s money and turn a quick buck. They are only really interested in the last category of people and therefore understandably focussing all their attentions, vast repertoire of skills and considerable resources on them.
Just ask the unfortunate South African entrepreneur who invested several hundred thousand to manufacture and market metal key rings depicting the SA flag and the letters “2010.” He registered his product in SA and got all the necessary local permits, patents and approvals but he forgot about the Family. In the process all he managed to do was to unnecessarily upset the Family. They feel aggrieved because he was disrespectful and excluded them. After all the trouble they have gone to, to stage such a world class event in our country, the least he could do was let them wet their beaks a little. The Family claim that the key ring initiative is nothing less than a flagrant case of “ambush marketing,” and accordingly is suing the hapless man, costing him hundreds of thousands of rands in legal fees.
Mr Norbert Munchhausen, head of the Family’s technical services department recently contacted senior management at SAA and made them an offer which he believed they could not exactly refuse but which he found out to his surprise they did not really understand. Then Mr Munchhausen became brutally explicit and direct as Europeans are wont to do when they don’t get their way in African countries. He explained the terms of the generous offer. He proposed that the Family would be very pleased if giant soccer balls sliced in half were stuck onto the tail sections of Airbus A340-600’s and Boeing 747-400’s, using the special glue NASA uses to stick heat resistant tiles to the body and fuselage of the space shuttle. Reliable sources confirm that as part of their contingency planning the Family had procured several containers of the special glue directly from the USA and were now not quite sure how to best put it to good use. Selling the glue along with the giant soccer ball idea to SAA was an elegant solution to their problem. The giant soccer ball on Telkom Tower may also be a prime candidate for repairs using the NASA glue. This giant soccer ball was an early prototype before the Kevlar was introduced and is now showing early signs of distress including rust and unsightly cracks in its facade.
After lengthy consultations with SAA senior management, the pilot’s association, SAA technical services and the SAA safety office, Mr. Munchhausen was politely reminded that a Jumbo jet is not a giant Airfix model and that his proposal was not only technically unfeasible but downright idiotic and dangerous. They added that it would destabilize the aircraft and pose a serious safety hazard which would interfere with the aerodynamic design, capabilities and proper handling of the aircraft which could endanger the lives of passengers.
Undeterred by these safety concerns, the intrepid Mr Munchhausen then suggested that a giant soccer ball be affixed to the nose section of the Boeing 747. Again the pilot’s association had to remind him that if this were done, it would block visibility out of the cockpit and the pilots would not be able to fly the aircraft. The paint shop at SAA technical services then came up with a solution. They cleverly pointed out that a far better option would be to spray paint giant soccer balls on the fuselage and tail section of the aircraft. SAA would be happy to oblige if the Family paid for the cost of this very expensive special aircraft paint and the costs involved to re-spray or restore the aircraft to their original colours or livery, once the tournament was over.
In the end, in the face of such withering objections, Mr Munchhausen had to drop his pitch to sell the special space shuttle glue and the idea of the giant soccer balls to SAA. He has subsequently been redeployed. He now works as the Family’s representative in Libya. He is now trying to sell the space shuttle glue to the Libyan Air Force so that they can patch up their ageing Soviet-era MIG fighter jets.
The Family’s co-ordinator of GAF, Giant Artificial Footballs in South Africa, Frau Fifi Schlepperkopf has confirmed that licencing and marketing opportunities are still available to erect and affix giant artificial footballs in several prominent landmark locations all over South Africa but time is running out. Applications to place giant soccer balls on Robben Island and on the top of the Voortrekker Monument have been rejected by the Family due to local sensitivities.
There is an exciting opportunity to install a giant soccer ball on the top of Table Mountain which will be visible from outer space. Objections by the mayor of Cape Town, Mrs Helen Zille have been overruled by the Family. On a smaller but equally impressive scale there’s an opening for a fully lit, giant rotating soccer ball to be erected on the Bluff at the entrance to Durban harbour. In picturesque Hout Bay, two locations are available, one on Klein Leeukoppie above Sol Kerzner’s estate and the other on the Sentinel guarding the entrance to Hout Bay harbour.
In Pretoria, an opportunity exists for a suitably qualified and accredited BEE female franchisee to erect a giant soccer ball on each of the twin domes or cupolas gracing the east and west wings of Sir Herbert Baker’s Union Buildings, to bolster and improve the carnival atmosphere which already exists at the seat of government. Experts say it is a fine balancing act but it can be done without endangering the lives of the occupants because the building already has a high rate of absenteeism.
Costas Ayiotis
Disclaimer: The events and persons depicted in this satirical essay are entirely fictional and bear no relation to any organisation or any persons living or dead.
April 2010
The volcano in Iceland continues to blow its top, belching dense columns of fine ash and superfine glass particles several kilometres into the upper atmosphere. Alarmed scientists report that the only thing denser on the planet is the IQ of some of South Africa’s members of parliament. While Iceland’s Eyjafjallajoekull volcano grounds international airlines bringing large parts of Europe to a virtual standstill, South Africa continues with its frantic last minute preparations to host a major international sporting event featuring the beautiful game. The navy has been placed on full alert and prostitutes in Johannesburg, Bloemfontein and Durban are following the fine example of their colleagues in Cape Town and brushing up on their German vocabulary and other foreign languages.
In case anyone was wondering, this is “The Family’s” soccer tournament, not South Africa’s. South Africa is merely the host country, privileged to foot the bill as it were. But what’s a few billion rand between friends and family. And we all know that relationships within families are often fraught with difficulties especially when money is involved but South Africans can at least console themselves with the comforting thought that we are now members of a small elite club within the global football family.
A quick look at all the badges, posters, flags and banners also confirms however that we are just the supporting act in a much greater production. The promotional material refers to the organising body and South Africa is merely mentioned next to the numbers “2010.” And as in any parasitic relationship, for example untreated malaria, when parasites are left undisturbed to live in the human body, be it in the brain, liver or bloodstream, the parasites run roughshod over everything, take over and eventually kill the host. But let’s not get too carried away and become overly pessimistic about our future survival prospects after the tournament, when the winter of our discontent sets in, the visitors have come and gone, the parades have passed, the noise subsides, the Vuvuzela’s are silent, the drums stop beating, the dancing is over, the lights finally go out and the coffers are empty.
Most governments and politicians especially in Africa are not known for their concern about the welfare of their citizens. They are happy to line their own pockets and buy expensive toys rather than focus on meaningful socio-economic upliftment programmes. Spending funds on education, health, housing and job creation to improve the lot of your people sets a dangerous precedent and people complain and are so ungrateful even at the best of times. Treat people too well and your citizens may reach a level of maturity where they start thinking for themselves and eventually they bite the hand that occasionally throws scraps at them from the feeding trough. They become so informed and empowered that they vote you out of power if you fail to deliver, so it’s far better to make idle promises and keep them dispossessed and downtrodden. That’s the African way. So when the mob occasionally gets restless, like the emperor’s in ancient Rome you give them “bread and circuses” to distract them from their daily problems.
But let’s focus on the present for a moment. So, on a lighter note I would like to inform all the sceptics out there that South Africa is most definitely ready to host this particular “circus.” I know this because I have become an unofficial and self-appointed football spotter. I have personally seen several giant soccer balls with their distinctive black and white panels, sliced in half and affixed to the sides of buildings. There’s a giant soccer ball stuck on the side of one of the main parking buildings at O R Tambo International Airport as you approach it from the south. Soccer balls have been stuck onto trains, busses, taxis, on the roof tops of delivery trucks and SUV’s. Pretoria being the nation’s capital has a giant but complete soccer ball wrapped around the Telkom tower. If we ever needed a sign that South Africa is ready to host this major event after spending R63 billion, this has to be it.
The organising body or Football Family as they like to call themselves are very excited that this phenomenon is gathering momentum as it not only creates great excitement, anticipation, goodwill and enthusiasm for the prestigious tournament but also generates extra fees and royalties for them. The choice of the word “family” is an interesting one. What did they have in mind? A traditional family in the old-fashioned, shared-identity, wholesome, meatloaf and picket fence sense of the word or “family” in the other more questionable and decidedly less friendly sense of the word?
In any event, this particular Family is involved in legitimate enterprises, they are masters in the art of persuasion and they have an army of lawyers at their disposal just in case things don’t go their way. The Family is encouraging all South Africans to stick or attach either complete or sliced in half giant soccer balls onto any surface they deem appropriate. The giant balls are available exclusively from the Family’s local offices and made from a special indestructible, weatherproof and rocket resistant type of Kevlar manufactured in a secret facility in Israel disguised as a kibbutz. All you have to do is apply to the Family for the necessary permits, pay the sliding scale licencing fee which varies according to the size of the balls chosen and the significance or prominence of the desired location and finally you have to meet all of the Family’s stringent technical and aesthetic specifications.
Pythagoras said there are three kinds of people who attend the Games. You get the competitors or players, the spectators and finally you get that special breed who come to buy and sell under the stands. The Family have been in the event-business a long time. They are shrewd and wily old foxes who know how to work with other people’s money and turn a quick buck. They are only really interested in the last category of people and therefore understandably focussing all their attentions, vast repertoire of skills and considerable resources on them.
Just ask the unfortunate South African entrepreneur who invested several hundred thousand to manufacture and market metal key rings depicting the SA flag and the letters “2010.” He registered his product in SA and got all the necessary local permits, patents and approvals but he forgot about the Family. In the process all he managed to do was to unnecessarily upset the Family. They feel aggrieved because he was disrespectful and excluded them. After all the trouble they have gone to, to stage such a world class event in our country, the least he could do was let them wet their beaks a little. The Family claim that the key ring initiative is nothing less than a flagrant case of “ambush marketing,” and accordingly is suing the hapless man, costing him hundreds of thousands of rands in legal fees.
Mr Norbert Munchhausen, head of the Family’s technical services department recently contacted senior management at SAA and made them an offer which he believed they could not exactly refuse but which he found out to his surprise they did not really understand. Then Mr Munchhausen became brutally explicit and direct as Europeans are wont to do when they don’t get their way in African countries. He explained the terms of the generous offer. He proposed that the Family would be very pleased if giant soccer balls sliced in half were stuck onto the tail sections of Airbus A340-600’s and Boeing 747-400’s, using the special glue NASA uses to stick heat resistant tiles to the body and fuselage of the space shuttle. Reliable sources confirm that as part of their contingency planning the Family had procured several containers of the special glue directly from the USA and were now not quite sure how to best put it to good use. Selling the glue along with the giant soccer ball idea to SAA was an elegant solution to their problem. The giant soccer ball on Telkom Tower may also be a prime candidate for repairs using the NASA glue. This giant soccer ball was an early prototype before the Kevlar was introduced and is now showing early signs of distress including rust and unsightly cracks in its facade.
After lengthy consultations with SAA senior management, the pilot’s association, SAA technical services and the SAA safety office, Mr. Munchhausen was politely reminded that a Jumbo jet is not a giant Airfix model and that his proposal was not only technically unfeasible but downright idiotic and dangerous. They added that it would destabilize the aircraft and pose a serious safety hazard which would interfere with the aerodynamic design, capabilities and proper handling of the aircraft which could endanger the lives of passengers.
Undeterred by these safety concerns, the intrepid Mr Munchhausen then suggested that a giant soccer ball be affixed to the nose section of the Boeing 747. Again the pilot’s association had to remind him that if this were done, it would block visibility out of the cockpit and the pilots would not be able to fly the aircraft. The paint shop at SAA technical services then came up with a solution. They cleverly pointed out that a far better option would be to spray paint giant soccer balls on the fuselage and tail section of the aircraft. SAA would be happy to oblige if the Family paid for the cost of this very expensive special aircraft paint and the costs involved to re-spray or restore the aircraft to their original colours or livery, once the tournament was over.
In the end, in the face of such withering objections, Mr Munchhausen had to drop his pitch to sell the special space shuttle glue and the idea of the giant soccer balls to SAA. He has subsequently been redeployed. He now works as the Family’s representative in Libya. He is now trying to sell the space shuttle glue to the Libyan Air Force so that they can patch up their ageing Soviet-era MIG fighter jets.
The Family’s co-ordinator of GAF, Giant Artificial Footballs in South Africa, Frau Fifi Schlepperkopf has confirmed that licencing and marketing opportunities are still available to erect and affix giant artificial footballs in several prominent landmark locations all over South Africa but time is running out. Applications to place giant soccer balls on Robben Island and on the top of the Voortrekker Monument have been rejected by the Family due to local sensitivities.
There is an exciting opportunity to install a giant soccer ball on the top of Table Mountain which will be visible from outer space. Objections by the mayor of Cape Town, Mrs Helen Zille have been overruled by the Family. On a smaller but equally impressive scale there’s an opening for a fully lit, giant rotating soccer ball to be erected on the Bluff at the entrance to Durban harbour. In picturesque Hout Bay, two locations are available, one on Klein Leeukoppie above Sol Kerzner’s estate and the other on the Sentinel guarding the entrance to Hout Bay harbour.
In Pretoria, an opportunity exists for a suitably qualified and accredited BEE female franchisee to erect a giant soccer ball on each of the twin domes or cupolas gracing the east and west wings of Sir Herbert Baker’s Union Buildings, to bolster and improve the carnival atmosphere which already exists at the seat of government. Experts say it is a fine balancing act but it can be done without endangering the lives of the occupants because the building already has a high rate of absenteeism.
Costas Ayiotis
Disclaimer: The events and persons depicted in this satirical essay are entirely fictional and bear no relation to any organisation or any persons living or dead.
The Perfect Crew
12 May 2010
Last month I spent fourteen wonderful days onboard the MSC Sinfonia with my family. The Sinfonia is a well-appointed if not luxurious Italian cruise liner that did an admirable job of floating with effortless ease and transporting us safely and in style to several Indian Ocean islands. We covered well over 3700 nautical miles or close to 6800 kilometres with stopovers in Mauritius, Reunion, the east coast of Madagascar and Maputo. It’s a very civilized and sensible way to travel and see the world and I’m hoping that my next cruise will include Mediterranean stopovers in Istanbul, the Greek islands, Dubrovnik, Livorno, Venice, Naples and Malta.
After the cruise and back on terra firma, I had problems adjusting to life ashore in an overcast, wet and chilly Pretoria, the city of butchers, fanatical rugby supporters and Jacaranda’s. All I had to look forward to, was sinking my teeth into the sweet firm flesh of some magnificent end of season Heidi mangoes, truly the king of fruit. I turned on my car radio and Radio Jacaranda FM, the favourite radio station of housewives, barbers, car thieves and nail parlour owners was running a promotion or competition, to as they put it, “lift” the mood for the month of April. The excitable radio jock spoke of “an uplifting” experience for some lucky listener. But the “lift,” the creative geniuses at Radio Jacaranda had in mind had more to do with bags of silicone than mental well-being. They called their promotion the “boobs and bags of cash” competition, a very original and thoughtful sounding strapline. Their marketing spin is that this has never been done on radio before.
At first I thought they were airing a delayed or extended April fool’s joke, but no, I soon realized that the fake boobs offer was for real. All some lucky female or possibly even male listener had to do to stand a chance to win two free size “D” cup, breast implants, was send an SMS with the word “boobs” to a certain number. They were offering a free chest upgrade or boob operation and a bag of boodle, presumably to spend it on buying new bras and a new wardrobe.
This got me thinking for a moment about our obsession with inflated breasts. The British author Martin Amis asked the pertinent question: when women desire fake boobs and men admire them, what are we worshipping? He said all we are really worshipping is two bags of silicone. And he’s right. I shook my head in despair. What next? A free lobotomy perhaps for the head of the marketing department? Cape Town columnist and satirist, Ben Trovato cleverly defines marketing as “the unspeakable attempting to fool the unsuspecting into thinking they need the unnecessary.” When the forces of globalization, branding, marketing and consumerism collide, we get polluted, confused minds and disposable goods that quickly end up on some festering garbage dump.
Seeking escape and relief from the banal mediocrity of the airwaves, I turned off the radio and started day dreaming again. My thoughts turned back to the uncomplicated and blissful life on board the cruise ship. A modern cruise liner is like a mini floating UN, crewed and staffed by nationals recruited from several dozen countries. So I wondered what the ideal crew and staff complement would look like on my ideal cruise ship. I risk offending certain countries with gross generalizations and by reducing what they do on board to exaggerated portrayals of national stereotypes, so I apologize in advance and beg forgiveness for the sins I am about to commit. If you have a sensitive disposition, are very patriotic or you are easily offended, please don’t read any further.
On my ideal cruise ship, the captain and ship’s deck officers would be drawn from the ranks of the Royal Navy. The Royal Navy has a proud and illustrious history going back to Sir Francis Drake and Lord Horatio Nelson. British officers and men in the Royal Navy Reserve are all gentlemen and true seafarers who would know how to fight pirates, the scourge of the seas, who now in our more lenient times have made a comeback. Once upon a time using primitive but highly effective methods, pirates were mercilessly hunted down, rooted out and hanged in metal cages, their rotting corpses and skeletons on display at every harbour. Today with the combined might of several powerful naval fleets at our disposal, the attentions of guided missile cruisers, shipboard helicopters, modern technology, unmanned aerial reconnaissance vehicles and satellites we seem unable to stop them.
An added advantage of ex-Royal Navy officers is that they would focus on the job at hand and be oblivious to the charms of the cruise ship’s showgirls and dancers unlike like the Greeks and Italians who would flirt with them at every opportunity. In keeping with the finest traditions of the Royal Navy, British naval officers are also rather fond of the customs and practices of Ancient Greece. They are used to working, living and playing in small confined and sweaty spaces such as submarines, men’s locker rooms, public lavatories and shower cubicles. I would avoid employing Italians and especially Greeks as officers because they have a habit of rushing to the life boats first and abandoning the ship without telling anyone.
The Germans are not known for their spontaneous outbursts of jollity or their people skills. They would be the ship’s engineers and technicians, kept confined to the control room and engine department where they don’t have to deal with people and their incessant demands. They would sit in front of their computer screens and monitor the proper functioning of the ship’s diesel electric turbines, the ship’s machinery, equipment, electricity generators and winches. Being stern and serious minded; the Chief Safety Officer and the Chief Maintenance Officer would also Germans, the former in charge of emergency evacuations, fire prevention and fire drills, the latter in charge of the maintenance and proper functioning of the ship’s toilets, elevators, air-conditioning plant, air-fresheners, water plant, Frankfurter dispenser, sewage system and refuse disposal systems.
The Swiss are now behaving like hairdressers and talking their heads off to anyone wielding a bigger brush than they do. They can no longer be trusted with the money of tin-pot despots, assorted African dictators, American and German tax dodgers so they would forfeit the boring but important banking and accounting function to the Finns, apparently the least bribable or corruptible people in the world. The Swiss would be the official rat-catchers on the ship because it takes a rat to catch a rat. They would be placed in charge of overall hygiene, fumigation, infestation and cleaning up operations like getting rid of vermin & cockroaches, washing the decks, scrubbing the stairwells, removing rust and painting the exterior of the ship while in port.
The bicycle friendly but otherwise shrewd Dutch, as pursers would order all food, dairy products, fresh fruit & vegetables, drink, other general stores and supplies and generally be in charge of all bedding, clothing and uniforms. They would negotiate with ship chandlers and suppliers ashore the best possible price for all food and drink items stocked on board but without adding on generous markups or commissions for themselves. They would work on lists and quality controls provided by the Italians and the French. The Dutch however would not be in charge of the ships food stores, pantries and cold rooms because of a past tendency to want to sell the food to the kitchens at exaggerated prices based on increased demand during peak cooking hours.
The Italians and French would jointly run the galleys and provide the chefs and line cooks, with the Italians in charge of antipasti, pasta and risotto dishes but the French would run the boulangerie and patisserie section. Italian baristas would run the coffee bars and gelateria’s. The French and Italians would have shared control of the cheese larder but under the mediation of UN trained Norwegian peacekeepers to prevent skulduggery, chicanery and ugly flare-ups. There would also be a Thai restaurant run by Thai chefs and a proper Japanese sushi restaurant run by Japanese chefs. The dolphin-friendly Japanese chefs and waiters would have their own karaoke bar and “comfort” ladies to keep them happy and stop them from molesting and groping the milder natured Thai’s.
The medical team, including doctors and trauma nurses would be South Africans as would the ship’s butcher who would be recruited in Pretoria. Not for nothing is Thailand called the Land of Smiles & Happy Endings. The Thai people understand the art of relaxation and how to pamper people, so they would run the spa and beauty centre on the ship. The Chinese with their fondness for steamy, unsavoury environments and with their particular set of nefarious skills would not only operate the laundry but also wash money for the ship’s Sicilian owners in the casino. The Indians would run the tailoring and mending department and all the duty free shops.
The ship’s gymn instructor, aerobics and fitness trainer would be a bisexual cross-dresser called Johandri, short for Johan-Dries and would hail from Klerksdorp. He will eventually fall in love with the ship’s cruise director, a rather flamboyant, multi-lingual and multi-talented bronzed Brazilian babe called Esmeralda who used to be a Rio Carnival samba dancer called Ambrosio before undergoing a sex change operation.
Some ex-Mossad Israeli’s would naturally take care of passenger screening, profiling and all security matters including manning the water cannons and catapults to repel pirates. The Americans would run showbiz, the awards ceremonies, and the entertainment and stage productions but would leave comedy to the British. The lead female singer would be a former lounge singer from the Hilton Hotel in rural Minnesota, a Celine Dion lookalike but with blonde and pink highlights, enhanced breasts and better teeth. The show girls would include several Ukrainian gymnasts and pole vaulters, the entertainers and musicians would be drawn from all over the world because talent knows no borders.
The Cubans would supply and run the cigar lounge and the free rum rations. Devious Greek waiters and even scheming island gigolos have been eclipsed in recent years by those drawn from places like the Philippines, Bali in Indonesia and Thailand. These are countries where the locals understand the meaning of hospitality, friendliness and excellent service with a smile.
The Greeks would be kept well away from the ship’s show girls, the ship’s pumps, bilge tanks, drainage valves and the accounting department. They would be given a token position near the pool deck running a small souvlaki stand under strict supervision and in the permanent presence of a German fire warden with meat provided by the South African butcher approved by the Swiss hygiene inspector.
The Greeks would also be volunteered in lieu of blow up dummies as live victims in the fire evacuation, first aid, man overboard and rescue at sea drills run by the Germans. Because of unresolved anger management issues and safety concerns raised by the helpless Greeks against the competent Germans, the German engineers would be kept well away from life threatening equipment and sharp objects such as harpoons and hooks.
There would be no Canadian or Australian crew members on board mainly because of their insistence on the use of politically correct, non-offensive, legally vetted, UN sanctioned, non-sexist, non-racial, equal opportunity, gender neutral, court approved, ethically correct, culturally sensitive and universally applicable terminology and commands at all times even during extreme emergencies.
Costas Ayiotis
12 May 2010
Last month I spent fourteen wonderful days onboard the MSC Sinfonia with my family. The Sinfonia is a well-appointed if not luxurious Italian cruise liner that did an admirable job of floating with effortless ease and transporting us safely and in style to several Indian Ocean islands. We covered well over 3700 nautical miles or close to 6800 kilometres with stopovers in Mauritius, Reunion, the east coast of Madagascar and Maputo. It’s a very civilized and sensible way to travel and see the world and I’m hoping that my next cruise will include Mediterranean stopovers in Istanbul, the Greek islands, Dubrovnik, Livorno, Venice, Naples and Malta.
After the cruise and back on terra firma, I had problems adjusting to life ashore in an overcast, wet and chilly Pretoria, the city of butchers, fanatical rugby supporters and Jacaranda’s. All I had to look forward to, was sinking my teeth into the sweet firm flesh of some magnificent end of season Heidi mangoes, truly the king of fruit. I turned on my car radio and Radio Jacaranda FM, the favourite radio station of housewives, barbers, car thieves and nail parlour owners was running a promotion or competition, to as they put it, “lift” the mood for the month of April. The excitable radio jock spoke of “an uplifting” experience for some lucky listener. But the “lift,” the creative geniuses at Radio Jacaranda had in mind had more to do with bags of silicone than mental well-being. They called their promotion the “boobs and bags of cash” competition, a very original and thoughtful sounding strapline. Their marketing spin is that this has never been done on radio before.
At first I thought they were airing a delayed or extended April fool’s joke, but no, I soon realized that the fake boobs offer was for real. All some lucky female or possibly even male listener had to do to stand a chance to win two free size “D” cup, breast implants, was send an SMS with the word “boobs” to a certain number. They were offering a free chest upgrade or boob operation and a bag of boodle, presumably to spend it on buying new bras and a new wardrobe.
This got me thinking for a moment about our obsession with inflated breasts. The British author Martin Amis asked the pertinent question: when women desire fake boobs and men admire them, what are we worshipping? He said all we are really worshipping is two bags of silicone. And he’s right. I shook my head in despair. What next? A free lobotomy perhaps for the head of the marketing department? Cape Town columnist and satirist, Ben Trovato cleverly defines marketing as “the unspeakable attempting to fool the unsuspecting into thinking they need the unnecessary.” When the forces of globalization, branding, marketing and consumerism collide, we get polluted, confused minds and disposable goods that quickly end up on some festering garbage dump.
Seeking escape and relief from the banal mediocrity of the airwaves, I turned off the radio and started day dreaming again. My thoughts turned back to the uncomplicated and blissful life on board the cruise ship. A modern cruise liner is like a mini floating UN, crewed and staffed by nationals recruited from several dozen countries. So I wondered what the ideal crew and staff complement would look like on my ideal cruise ship. I risk offending certain countries with gross generalizations and by reducing what they do on board to exaggerated portrayals of national stereotypes, so I apologize in advance and beg forgiveness for the sins I am about to commit. If you have a sensitive disposition, are very patriotic or you are easily offended, please don’t read any further.
On my ideal cruise ship, the captain and ship’s deck officers would be drawn from the ranks of the Royal Navy. The Royal Navy has a proud and illustrious history going back to Sir Francis Drake and Lord Horatio Nelson. British officers and men in the Royal Navy Reserve are all gentlemen and true seafarers who would know how to fight pirates, the scourge of the seas, who now in our more lenient times have made a comeback. Once upon a time using primitive but highly effective methods, pirates were mercilessly hunted down, rooted out and hanged in metal cages, their rotting corpses and skeletons on display at every harbour. Today with the combined might of several powerful naval fleets at our disposal, the attentions of guided missile cruisers, shipboard helicopters, modern technology, unmanned aerial reconnaissance vehicles and satellites we seem unable to stop them.
An added advantage of ex-Royal Navy officers is that they would focus on the job at hand and be oblivious to the charms of the cruise ship’s showgirls and dancers unlike like the Greeks and Italians who would flirt with them at every opportunity. In keeping with the finest traditions of the Royal Navy, British naval officers are also rather fond of the customs and practices of Ancient Greece. They are used to working, living and playing in small confined and sweaty spaces such as submarines, men’s locker rooms, public lavatories and shower cubicles. I would avoid employing Italians and especially Greeks as officers because they have a habit of rushing to the life boats first and abandoning the ship without telling anyone.
The Germans are not known for their spontaneous outbursts of jollity or their people skills. They would be the ship’s engineers and technicians, kept confined to the control room and engine department where they don’t have to deal with people and their incessant demands. They would sit in front of their computer screens and monitor the proper functioning of the ship’s diesel electric turbines, the ship’s machinery, equipment, electricity generators and winches. Being stern and serious minded; the Chief Safety Officer and the Chief Maintenance Officer would also Germans, the former in charge of emergency evacuations, fire prevention and fire drills, the latter in charge of the maintenance and proper functioning of the ship’s toilets, elevators, air-conditioning plant, air-fresheners, water plant, Frankfurter dispenser, sewage system and refuse disposal systems.
The Swiss are now behaving like hairdressers and talking their heads off to anyone wielding a bigger brush than they do. They can no longer be trusted with the money of tin-pot despots, assorted African dictators, American and German tax dodgers so they would forfeit the boring but important banking and accounting function to the Finns, apparently the least bribable or corruptible people in the world. The Swiss would be the official rat-catchers on the ship because it takes a rat to catch a rat. They would be placed in charge of overall hygiene, fumigation, infestation and cleaning up operations like getting rid of vermin & cockroaches, washing the decks, scrubbing the stairwells, removing rust and painting the exterior of the ship while in port.
The bicycle friendly but otherwise shrewd Dutch, as pursers would order all food, dairy products, fresh fruit & vegetables, drink, other general stores and supplies and generally be in charge of all bedding, clothing and uniforms. They would negotiate with ship chandlers and suppliers ashore the best possible price for all food and drink items stocked on board but without adding on generous markups or commissions for themselves. They would work on lists and quality controls provided by the Italians and the French. The Dutch however would not be in charge of the ships food stores, pantries and cold rooms because of a past tendency to want to sell the food to the kitchens at exaggerated prices based on increased demand during peak cooking hours.
The Italians and French would jointly run the galleys and provide the chefs and line cooks, with the Italians in charge of antipasti, pasta and risotto dishes but the French would run the boulangerie and patisserie section. Italian baristas would run the coffee bars and gelateria’s. The French and Italians would have shared control of the cheese larder but under the mediation of UN trained Norwegian peacekeepers to prevent skulduggery, chicanery and ugly flare-ups. There would also be a Thai restaurant run by Thai chefs and a proper Japanese sushi restaurant run by Japanese chefs. The dolphin-friendly Japanese chefs and waiters would have their own karaoke bar and “comfort” ladies to keep them happy and stop them from molesting and groping the milder natured Thai’s.
The medical team, including doctors and trauma nurses would be South Africans as would the ship’s butcher who would be recruited in Pretoria. Not for nothing is Thailand called the Land of Smiles & Happy Endings. The Thai people understand the art of relaxation and how to pamper people, so they would run the spa and beauty centre on the ship. The Chinese with their fondness for steamy, unsavoury environments and with their particular set of nefarious skills would not only operate the laundry but also wash money for the ship’s Sicilian owners in the casino. The Indians would run the tailoring and mending department and all the duty free shops.
The ship’s gymn instructor, aerobics and fitness trainer would be a bisexual cross-dresser called Johandri, short for Johan-Dries and would hail from Klerksdorp. He will eventually fall in love with the ship’s cruise director, a rather flamboyant, multi-lingual and multi-talented bronzed Brazilian babe called Esmeralda who used to be a Rio Carnival samba dancer called Ambrosio before undergoing a sex change operation.
Some ex-Mossad Israeli’s would naturally take care of passenger screening, profiling and all security matters including manning the water cannons and catapults to repel pirates. The Americans would run showbiz, the awards ceremonies, and the entertainment and stage productions but would leave comedy to the British. The lead female singer would be a former lounge singer from the Hilton Hotel in rural Minnesota, a Celine Dion lookalike but with blonde and pink highlights, enhanced breasts and better teeth. The show girls would include several Ukrainian gymnasts and pole vaulters, the entertainers and musicians would be drawn from all over the world because talent knows no borders.
The Cubans would supply and run the cigar lounge and the free rum rations. Devious Greek waiters and even scheming island gigolos have been eclipsed in recent years by those drawn from places like the Philippines, Bali in Indonesia and Thailand. These are countries where the locals understand the meaning of hospitality, friendliness and excellent service with a smile.
The Greeks would be kept well away from the ship’s show girls, the ship’s pumps, bilge tanks, drainage valves and the accounting department. They would be given a token position near the pool deck running a small souvlaki stand under strict supervision and in the permanent presence of a German fire warden with meat provided by the South African butcher approved by the Swiss hygiene inspector.
The Greeks would also be volunteered in lieu of blow up dummies as live victims in the fire evacuation, first aid, man overboard and rescue at sea drills run by the Germans. Because of unresolved anger management issues and safety concerns raised by the helpless Greeks against the competent Germans, the German engineers would be kept well away from life threatening equipment and sharp objects such as harpoons and hooks.
There would be no Canadian or Australian crew members on board mainly because of their insistence on the use of politically correct, non-offensive, legally vetted, UN sanctioned, non-sexist, non-racial, equal opportunity, gender neutral, court approved, ethically correct, culturally sensitive and universally applicable terminology and commands at all times even during extreme emergencies.
Costas Ayiotis
Greece and the European Web of Debt & Deceit
8 May 2010
Over the last few weeks the newspapers, TV news channels, Bloomberg and others have been full of endless gloomy reports about the Greek financial crisis and the risk of contagion spreading to other countries in Europe. The spotlight has fallen mostly on Greece and everybody seems to blame the country for the resultant fall-out, the weakening of the Euro and the ensuing instability in the global markets with sharp declines in European, American and other stock markets. A panoply of pundits, all of them futurists, speculate that the Greek crisis may lead to the possible future dissolution of the eurozone and could even cause the eventual unraveling of the entire EU. Images of violent riots and protesters flooding the streets of Athens have not helped matters and there must be legitimate fears about the longevity of Prime Minister George Papandreou’s socialist government. Greece is lined up in everybody’s sights as the first euro zone country to potentially default on repayments on its old debts.
It must be pointed out however that Greece is not the cause of Europe’s and the world’s present financial woes but merely the catalyst. Greece is not alone. 25 out of 27 European countries are currently running deficits in excess of 3% of GDP. According to the Economist France is over 8% and even Germany is close to 6%. Now the EU has announced a new loan plan of just over a hundred billion Euros and further steps to support eurozone countries in distress. A closer examination of various cross-holdings and the much higher debt burdens of other euro zone members, puts the whole issue into perspective and may hopefully, cast a different light on matters. Greece’s total debt is the lowest at $236 billion, Portugal is next at $286 billion, Ireland $867 billion, Spain $1.1 trillion, Italy carries the highest debt burden of $1.4 trillion. The grand total is a staggering and incomprehensible $3.689 trillion in debt, excluding the debt of newer EU members in eastern and central Europe. The “delinquent” euro zone countries were until recently referred to as the “PIGS”, or if you exclude Ireland the “Club Med” countries. Now the politically correct term for these countries is “SWEAP” (South West Euro Area Periphery). You can have a lot of fun in Brussels inventing new names and acronyms for all sorts of things. There must some well-staffed and well-paid department at the European Commission HQ which takes care of these things. Why not take it a step further and recognize Spain and Portugal’s insistence that their situation is different and lump them into a separate club called the “chorizo belt.”
The Italians and especially the haughty Spaniards, who since the Spanish Inquisition have taken themselves far too seriously, will remind us with some disdain that their large economies are more diverse, better managed and cannot possibly be compared with a struggling minnow like Greece. The first part is true; the last two parts are complete rubbish. Spain has an unemployment rate running at 20%, much of this stemming from the real estate bubble bursting and the collapse of the overheated construction and property development sector. Italy owes $511billion to French financial institutions. French Banks are the most exposed with close to $900 billion owed to them. Runaway debt is runaway debt no matter how you cut it. A man who earns $10 000 per annum and owes $100 000 is in the same position as a man who earns $1 million and owes $10 million. The principle is the same. This is clearly a sovereign debt issue which is not going to go away for a long time to come.
The diagram clearly shows that this is a European debt crisis and not simply a Greek tragedy masquerading as a debt crisis. Greece has been used as a convenient and easy scapegoat to drive down the value of the Euro which ultimately favours German manufacturers and businesses, the world’s second largest exporters of goods and merchandise after China. In a way Greece opened itself up to ridicule and condemnation when Prime Minister George Papandreou spilled his guts to all who would listen and admitted to the corruption, fraud, duplicity and lies of past Greek governments. He meant well and naively believed that his television confession and this new type of transparency would be well received by the international community. Unfortunately it wasn’t. Alarmed Greeks and several leaders of other European countries privately thought that Papandreou had gone mad. Let’s hope the poor man survives in what must rank as the worst job in the world. He won a poisoned chalice and took a job nobody else really wanted. But he should have known better, and learnt from the mistakes of his grandfather and father, both former prime ministers of Greece. In Greece politics is a viable and lucrative family business. It’s about creating dynasties with the Karamanlis, Papandreou and Mitsotakis families taking turns to compete for the honours. George junior should have learnt from the sins of his womanizing and corrupt father Andreas that in politics even though there are leaks, everybody talks or might suspect where the skeletons are buried, nobody openly admits it to the world. Every country like every family runs on a few secrets. Some matters like marital infidelity are best kept in-house as own affairs. Papandreou no doubt influenced by his US upbringing and education, thought that by coming clean, he could beg for forgiveness in public, in the full glare of the lights and cameras, just like Jimmy Swaggart the tearful American pastor and televangelist did, when his sex scandal involving prostitutes and strippers made headlines. In both instances the world was neither impressed, convinced or in a conciliatory mood. It’s a case of being damned if you do and damned if you don’t. As a former Greek Socialist politician and economic advisor pointed out, Greece has never been trusted since the Trojan Horse incident.
There is no question however that a succession of past Greek governments, socialist and conservative must bear the responsibility and partial blame for getting Greece into this mess. The money was spent mostly on the bloated public sector, to give jobs to cronies, to pay unproductive Greek civil servants and to buy arms including submarines from Germany. It’s a strange irony however, worth mentioning that Germany calls for strict measures and financial discipline to be imposed on Greece while at the same time lobbying for new weapons sales.
Jean-Claude Trichet is the President of the ECB, European Central Bank. The immediate problem here is that nobody is really sure what he does or for that matter what the ECB does, but he has tried to reassure the markets that a default is out of the question. The markets are not convinced. The EU has a foreign minister of sorts but does not have a Treasury Secretary like the USA who can print as much money as he likes. Messieur Trichet blames European governments for failing to impose tougher budgetary controls. Fair enough but in all this, nobody blames assorted European banks for flooding Greece and other European countries with cheap and easy credit from 2001 onwards. All the countries in the flow chart below borrowed at ridiculously low interest rates. The behaviour of the banks was reckless or negligent to say the least and they must also bear part of the blame for this unfolding European catastrophe along with the profligate governments.
The behaviour of the banks was akin to giving children truckloads of cash and then letting them run amok in toy and candy stores at the local mall. Where were the Eurocrats in Brussels in all this? Why was there no regulation? The Eurocrats obsessed with the flawed idea of building an empire turned a blind eye. Any attempt at regulation in the early years of this decade was killed at the outset by EU countries including the big boys, France and Germany because they too were busy breaking the rules and playing with deficits themselves. It was politically expedient at the time for France and Germany to allow this to happen. France had visions of glory and envisaged a leading role for herself in a greater European state while Germany needed to rehabilitate and absorb East Germany at enormous cost. There was active finessing and collusion between political and economic forces. It’s not surprising then that as a result political, financial and corporate elites all over the world are facing a huge crisis of legitimacy. Ultimately the Euro favoured Germany the most with its value-add export driven economy.
It is only since 2008 that Nicholas Sarkozy jumped on the regulation bandwagon, seized the idea and attempted to make it chic again. Financial sanity in Europe gave way to the myth of political unity. And when political unity proved to be elusive among so many countries whose citizens in reality only wanted to preserve their own culture, identity and autonomy, then at least we’d have the Euro to bond and unify us. Like a business which grows too fast, the single currency idea went too far, too big, too quickly allowing in countries like Greece which did not really belong in the euro zone heavyweight division alongside an industrial giant like Germany.
At the heart of the problem in this ambitious idea of a greater Europe, were two conflicting philosophical ideas about what a united Europe should look like. The thinkers and writers at Gavekal, Charles Gave & Anatole Kaletsky explain that the first being “the Roman Empire Model”, favoured full integration under centralized state control, eventually leading to a giant highly interventionist European Super state run by technocrats in Brussels. The second they call the “Catholic Christian Democrat Model” which preferred decentralization, less intervention from the centre; allowing diverse political systems and structures to co-exist alongside each other without surrendering too much of their national sovereignty.
Where does this leave Greece? For a start you cannot cure old debt by getting deeper into new debt at astronomic interest levels of 15% demanded by bond markets. It seems however that Greece has more of a structural problem and less of a liquidity problem with a very weak economic sector outside tourism and shipping. The Greek tax system unfairly rewards the banks and the rich with their inventive schemes to dodge liability and disproportionately penalizes the poor. The vast wealth of the church also needs to be taxed. Greece cannot solely rely on implementing the 38 billion Euros in tax hikes and unpopular spending cuts to solve its problems. Greece has been in an undeclared tax revolt since Ottoman times. Back then it was a matter of survival and the patriotic duty of every Greek to defy the sultan’s tax collectors but today it’s a different story even though a succession of Greek governments have squandered public money. The present government has to find ways to reverse this culture of defiance, crack down and collect the 30 billion Euros lost annually to tax evasion. Greeks at all levels of Greek society, in all trades, professions and occupations share the blame and responsibility. The mechanic, dentist, doctor or lawyer who charges more if he/she is asked for a receipt and writes it in the book and the civil servant who agrees to pay cash and does not ask for a receipt. Greece is a classic example of the destructive power of the “slippery slope” argument at work. This is what happens when not just a small minority of people but an overwhelming majority of citizens collectively decide that the rules and laws do not apply to them.
The 110 billion Euro joint IMF and EU “bailout” plan may buy Greece some time, a year or two at the most but it does not solve the underlying problem the country faces. Is the Euro a viable lifeline for an economically weak country like Greece now that Euro subsidies have been misspent and dried up? One suggested strategy calls for Greece to stop clinging to the Euro. US analysts continuously talk of the euro zone being forced to “cut Greece loose” rather than risk sinking the whole EU system. Maybe this is not such a bad thing. Greece will either exit the Euro on her own volition, revert to her own currency like the UK as a last desperate act or Germany will lose patience, flex her political and economic muscle and force Greece out. There is even a remote possibility that Germany decides to go it alone and leave the Euro if that is what German voters decide in the future. In any case a schizophrenic duality has always existed about the whole European concept or question. Greece became an early member of the EU in 1981 long before Portugal and Ireland, yet before and even after this happened, the Greeks always believed that Europe was something separate or apart from them and their Balkan neighbours living in a rough neighbourhood. They somehow felt inferior and everything European was considered smarter and more sophisticated even though “Europe” is a Greek word. Will the EU collapse as some predict? It seems doubtful in the short to medium term because for the time being at least, Germany and France have vested interests. They need the system to work with or without Greece. No doubt further expansion of the club will be delayed and in time we may see that the smaller and weaker states are included politically as junior partners but excluded economically because their markets or contributions are deemed insignificant and not worth the trouble.
Greece is not the real risk here but an early symptom that is scaring the markets in anticipation of a much larger calamitous event or collapse. Markets are forward looking. Looking at the debt levels of the other SWEAP’s, if I were Greece I would try to get out of the Euro. But at this stage it is clear that Greece’s sovereignty and autonomy has been severely curtailed by the bigger members of the club. On the downside of the whole scheme, lurks the crippling burden of trying to pay back not only the older maturing debt but also the new top up debt which together with the governments spending cuts will kill any prospect of economic growth. This will push Greece into a deep and protracted recession if not outright depression with some less sanguine estimates predicting a 25% contraction in economic output or activity.
Greek civil servants are worried about their pensions, and complain about pay freezes and cuts of their 14th cheques and bonuses. An estimated 51% of working Greeks are employed by the unproductive public sector. It’s not them we should be worrying about. The remaining 49% of mostly self-employed Greeks run small and medium sized family businesses. This is the economic backbone of the country. It is this group we should be worrying about. These people or businesses will be the first to fold under the new austerity measures. It’s a double edged sword. Tax revenues will fall further and Greece will have no choice but to eventually restructure or delay its debt repayments.
The Greek public has a right to feel outraged. There is public pressure on the Greek government to walk away from subsidiary debt to banks which is being converted into sovereign debt. It may set a bad precedent but ordinary citizens everywhere always lose out when dealing with large institutions and corporations like banks, insurance, health care and petro-chemical giants. Legitimate protest is a democratic right. Too often the public is cocooned in the dangerous comfort and apathy of complacency. It is wrong however to set buildings alight and kill innocent people. The mob has again been allowed to hijack and discredit the process. It is plain stupid to attack policemen and close down essential services like hospitals.
So as the experts at Gavekal point out, the question for Europe should not be how they can get a highly indebted and unproductive country like Greece to service its debt. It may prove a pointless exercise to throw good money after bad. Rather the question should be how will Greece achieve an improvement in its income statement? One way is to drop the Euro. The solution Gavekal propose is to allow the exchange rate to fall to a level where Greek assets are cheap for foreigners. But unlike the USA and the UK, Greece is trapped inside the Euro straitjacket and cannot devalue its currency nor can it print more money to buy itself out of trouble. Iceland has devalued the Krona and now claims to be in a better position than Greece. An added advantage of this strategy ties in with the one sector that if properly revived, offers some hope or salvation for Greece to emerge out of its troubles. Greece should do all it can to become a viable, affordable and competitive tourist destination again. After 2001 when Greece dropped the Drachma and adopted the Euro, the cost of living soared for most Greeks and the country became too expensive for tourists. Greece is a country blessed with beautiful islands, each one with its own unique character. The country has magnificent beaches, safe waters, no pirates, no malaria, a long and varied coastline, rugged mountains, beautiful villages, lakes and rivers in the interior. The Greek weather, easy laid back lifestyle of sidewalk cafés and taverna’s is ideal for tourism. The country offers museums, ancient sites, history, treasures, monuments and archeology. But more importantly a change in attitude is also needed in the country. Greeks need to revive and embrace the time-honoured traditional Greek values of filoxenia, the legendary Greek warmth, enthusiasm, curiosity and hospitality towards strangers.
The only salvation really is for government policies and efforts to remove obstacles and free up the vital tourism sector which has been crippled by red tape and a lack of adequate world class facilities at market friendly rates. Red tape chokes the life out of every initiative because everyone has a finger in the pie, from entrepreneurial priests to corrupt local politicians and mayors. Even billionaire developers with unlimited resources at their disposal and lots of political clout, spend 15 to 20 years to see a project or resort with huge tourism potential come to fruition. As a result Greece loses out to its immediate neighbour Turkey which offers a similar product and superior service at more affordable rates. Greece needs more world class golf resorts, health spas, hotels and marinas built in an environmentally friendly or sensitive way to attract mid-level and up market visitors and not the beer, ouzo and retsina swilling (often simultaneously) Scandinavian backpackers of the 1980’s. Greece also needs to learn from the mistakes made in Spain where rampant or unchecked property developments, with cheaply built apartment blocks and housing estates now lie empty. Greece should have the confidence to say “local is lekker” and offer a first rate, authentic Greek experience and not third rate misspelt English breakfasts. The true spirit and patrimony of Greece is not found in the cities but in the countryside and mountain villages where people celebrate festivals, dance in the plateia, bake their own bread, make their own wine, olive oil, cheeses and sausages, and grow their own fruit and vegetables.
For Greece being a member of this European club is not everything. Old enemy Turkey next door does it alone and has a booming economy. I’m not in favour of rewarding bad behaviour and critics will cry foul, citing “moral hazard”, but what Greece needs right now is partial debt forgiveness or write-offs, not new unsustainable levels of debt which will most certainly enslave the country’s citizens even more for generations to come to foreign interests. The critics and there are many will say, you brought this upon yourself. That may be true but Greece had a lot of outside help to push her into the abyss from the likes of Goldman Sachs and other predators seeking to make a quick kill from the endemic weakness of the Greek system. The situation is dire but all is not lost. It’s not the end of the world. Argentina, Russia and the Asian countries had defaults and faced similar challenges. They not only survived but even came out stronger with bull markets. Greece can learn and take courage from their example. Greece understands hardship and adversity more than most countries but unfortunately in its difficult history Greece has also sometimes been a willing pawn of the big powers and danced to their tune to her own detriment.
As governments all over the world run out of options and print more and more money in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable day of reckoning, the flight to safety makes gold increasingly look like a viable option for many global investors. In a previous article I jokingly wrote that Greece should outsource the economic management of the country to German financial polizei. A friend and fellow pavementista, while sipping his cappuccino and poring over the morning newspapers, remarked that if he was Greek, he’d brush up on his German. Looking at the massive debt levels of the other SWEAP’s, if I were them; I’d start learning
Cantonese.
Costas Ayiotis
Pavement Philosopher
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Griechenland: Quo Vadis?
By Costas Ayiotis
The President of the European Commission, Jose Manuel Barroso announced today that the EU had reached agreement on a bail out plan for Greece. It seems that the risk of Greek default and contagion spreading to other EU countries like Spain and Portugal has been contained for now. Greece has been a delinquent member of the EU for many years with its serial flouting of the financial rules, running a budget deficit of 12, 7% of GDP; the highest in the EU and more than four times higher than the 3% limit which EU rules allow. As a result the country ran into serious financial trouble amassing sovereign debt of close to a whopping Euro 300 billion. Currently the debt to GDP ratio runs at over 120%. Greece’s debt primarily lies in global bond funds, pension companies and sevral banks including French, Swiss and German banks.
The fiscal accounts and cash flow of Greece are to put it mildly, in a disastrous state and it will take many years of painful and unpopular austerity measures to rehabilitate the troubled country. The Government of Prime Minister George Papandreou now faces the unenviable task of finding the cash it needs to inject into its economy, while simultaneously drastically slashing government spending, freezing the wages and the hiring of government workers, raising the retirement age and increasing taxes on alcohol, tobacco, income and property. The burning question now on everyones lips: Can Greece afford to service its soaring debt and interest payments without outside help?
It was clear to see who the main architect of the latest bail out plan was. Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany emerged out of the EU meeting all smiles and reassuringly announced: “Greece is part of the EU and will not be left on its own.” Without losing her smile for a second, she rather ominously also added: “but there will be strict rules!” And we all know what happens when the Germans impose and apply strict rules. But this may not be such a bad thing. So it is clear that German assistance in whatever form, will come with intrusive conditions. Maybe the concept of economic sovereignty is overrated after all.
Meanwhile the USA faces its own Greek style fiscal crisis. The USA for too long has behaved like an over-indulged and spoilt brat. It has shown that it is equally incapable of running its own finances with China owning a great big chunk of the USA’s debt. The fiscal position of the US does not inspire much confidence with the federal debt running into trillions of dollars. Unlike Greece the USA sets its own monetary policy and has tried to delay the pain with "quantitative easing." This is a nicer way of saying that they potentially have an unlimited capacity to print money and thereby buy time and secure more debt but I still don’t quite understand how you cure debt by getting deeper into debt. Maybe they're hoping that soaring inflation will erode the value of the debt and mop up the excess liquidity injected into their system to rescue US banks and soften the recession.
The markets indicate that as a result of non-specific pledges of EU support for Greece, it has become a little less risky to own Greek debt. But as a bond investor would you have confidence in Greek or for that matter US debt? The USA is certainly no safe haven when it comes to money matters, be it their banks or bonds and even if the dollar still remains the world’s reserve currency for now. As for Greece, on a personal note I would sooner owe money to a Greek than have him owe me money. And whether you are a country or a household, the same old-fashioned golden rule applies: always spend less than you earn. But maybe that is being too simplistic.
Critics will of course point out that there is no comparison between the size and complexity of the US economy which looks more and more like a giant pyramid or Ponzi scheme and the world’s first tzatziki economy. They will point out that the USA has an undervalued dollar and an ever increasing tax-paying, working age population to fuel growth in its consumer driven economy. Greece on the other hand, like many of the other weaker countries in the EU, produces very little and when it does like Spain has high production costs and low productivity. Greece sweats it under an overvalued Euro and would benefit from a weaker currency to stimulate domestic growth. Greece in contrast to the USA has a working age population that is in severe decline and even when working, highly evasive when it comes to paying taxes. Retiring from your strenuous half-day job as a bank teller at the age of fifty is common place. It’s not surprising then that some enterprising but unscrupulous Greek politicians were so keen to import Albanians into the economy, initially to mix concrete and push wheel barrows but now these same Albanians are now building contractors and Egyptians and Pakistanis push the wheel barrows.
Nobody disputes Greece’s enormous contribution to Western civilization in diverse fields such as politics, architecture, art, aesthetics, science, mathematics, medicine and literature. The country has produced many great thinkers and philosophers like Socrates, Plato and Aristotle but unfortunately in more recent times it has also produced many unprincipled rogues, brigands and goat thieves who could not find gainful employment in the towns, cities, mountains, the plains or on the farms so they became politicians.
How did Greece get into this mess? The usual litany of ills, come to mind. Greece like South Africa is run by kleptocrats. Years of economic mismanagement, a succession of inept and corrupt governments from both sides of the political spectrum, a lack of political will and fiscal discipline, access to unlimited, cheap & easy credit, endemic short term thinking and disastrous internal policies, a bloated and inefficient civil service used as a dumping ground by politicians to secure sheltered employment for family, friends and cronies, an ageing population, unacceptably high levels of tax evasion, endemic bribery and corruption at all levels of society and numerous high level scandals involving embezzlement of funds by top government officials.
Transparency International lists Greece alongside Bulgariaand Romania as the most corrupt countries in the 27 member EU, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Colombia. The Greek Finance Ministry reports that a massive 30 % of all economic activity in Greece produces no revenue for the government because of active cheating on taxes by companies, employees and professionals like doctors and lawyers.
The EU should have seen the makings of this Greek tragedy coming. This toxic brew has been bubbling away for years. Crisis and deficits are not something new in the Aegean. They have known about Greece’s irresponsible behaviour as a member state for years and did nothing to bring Greece to order. Therefore they are partially to blame for this fiasco. Some countries are good at balancing the books while other countries are good at cooking the books. Greece clearly falls into the latter category. And Greece is not only good at cooking the books; it has also shown remarkable flair in fiddling with all sorts of statistics. The old saying was: beware of Greeks bearing gifts. It is now beware of Greeks bearing statistics.
I read recently in John Mauldin’s Investor newsletter that a prominent Swiss investor pointed out that Greece has been in default in 105 of the last 200 years. Not a great track record but he is stating the obvious. Greece has always been a volatile country battling to overcome the legacy of Turkish rule and the lack of vision of its own rulers. The Greek people will ultimately foot the bill as they always have throughout history for the stupidity and greed of their political and economic oligarchy or elite. I use these words deliberately because Greece has never had leaders in the true sense of the word, a leader being someone who is prepared to serve and protect the interests of others. I would also like to remind our Swiss commiserator that Switzerland may have clean streets but it also has dirty money. It's banking record is not something to inspire confidence and pride. Self-inflicted deficits and defaults morally speaking, are infinitely less objectionable than protecting the money of despots and dictators or hoarding the treasures, gold and artworks looted by the Nazis from the Jews of Europe.
Nonetheless the unruly Greeks should never be entrusted with state funds and high finance. I would happily outsource the running of Greek finances to a secretariat sitting in Berlin as long as I get an ethical pledge and clearance certificate from Angela Merkel that Siemens will have nothing to do with it. And I would rather live with Germans running Greece’s fiscal policies under German rules than those of the USA or China. Germany is after all the richest, largest and most economically advanced state in Europe. Greeks wearing aprons, a form of national dress in many parts of the country, have in any event been serving wealthy German tourists for years and occasionally stealing their wives. We all get a bit nervous when the Germans are around mainly because the serious-minded, work-seeking, uber-efficient Germans have been known to invade the odd continent in search of lebensraum but thankfully that’s all in the past.
Germany today is an uneasy giant, an embarrassed, bashful power almost reticent to flex its growing financial and political muscle in Europe. They need someone like the hyper-active and energetic Sarkozy to occasionally prod them out of their collective guilt and self-reflective stupor. But Germany also faces a domestic problem. With elections coming up soon, even limited German participation in a Greek bail out plan will not be very popular across the Rhine and may come at a considerable political cost. German taxes are already very high and the disciplined German electorate has very little excess debt to pay off. Why should Germany care and what does Germany get in return?
I don’t know why they are complaining. Angela Merkel may simply be protecting the exposure of German banks to Greek debt. Besides we didn’t ask them to invade us in 1941. Greece also provided German factories with cheap labour in the 50's and 60's. Will the country ever eventually free itself from the guilt of its old sins? Normally we should not hold sons accountable for the sins of their fathers but nor should we forget what they did under Hitler and maybe the Germans should shoulder the burden for Greece’s future stability especially if Germany benefits in the long term as well. The Germans should see the bailout plan as a form of minor reparations or pay back plan for wiping out entire Greek villages and flying the swastika over the Parthenon.
Anyway it seems the Greeks for once are not asking for money. They may be simply be asking France and Germany if they can rely on the superior credit record of these two countries, so that Greece can raise money on the international bond markets at less crippling rates. Being the reluctant financial custodian of the county which gave us democracy may not be sufficient reward. Greece does not contribute much to the GDP of the eurozone but the future viability of the EU may be at stake here. Allowing Greece to collapse may be the fall of the first domino which threatens the very future of the EU, an EU with Germany at the head as its pre-eminent political and economic power. Germany has always been the biggest contributor to EU finances but with the EU a bigger market than the USA, if the EU fails everyone suffers including Germany. The bottom line as other experts have pointed out is that Germany may have to continue paying to maintain its leadership position and to make things work in Europe.
Greece has quite sensibly resisted the urge to follow the American example and sell the country to China. The Greeks don’t like melamine in their famous yoghurt. This anti-China sentiment has mostly been as a result of persistent pressure on the government from the very powerful souvlaki vendors lobby which has vowed that dog meat will never find its way into the venerated souvlaki. In the past dogs were not treated very well in Greece and packs of stray dogs roaming the streets was a common sight. Today following the example set by Diogenes the Cynic who in ancient times roamed the streets of Athens with his staff, lantern and faithful hound at his side searching for an honest man, dogs in Greece have made a fashionable come back and are now understandably more loved and trusted than people.
Greece will never die, so says a famous line in the Greek national anthem and the Greek people are a resilient lot. The country has faced far greater perils than a fiscal crisis in its long and bloody history and endured with its ancient fighting spirit intact. It has resisted invasion from Persian hordes, accommodated Roman occupation; lived through the devastation of its lands by invading Goths and Huns, survived four centuries under the yoke of the Ottoman Turks and more recently Nazi occupation during World War II. Living with German financial planning now necessarily imposed on Athens is a welcome picnic by comparison. And things won’t be so bad. It may be blitzkrieg by other means but rule by the cheque book is far better than Stuka bombardments and Panzer invasions.
Most of the Greek debt is due in four years time but of more immediate concern, the country has to honour an important debt and interest payment in May with more than 50 billion Euros needed just to make it through 2010 alone. The old stock market adage may well apply in reverse. My advice to my compatriots: Pay in May and go away. Go away and lick your wounds. Go away and sing and dance and drink your troubles away as you always have done when things looked bleak. The world is dysfunctional. It has gone mad and nobody should be pointing fingers. We are all collectively responsible for the mess this fragile planet finds itself in today.
And go away they will this summer, to their villages, country homes and islands. The islands will still look beautiful; the Greek flag will still fly over the Parthenon although I suspect the flag pole is made in Germany. And when the sandal clad German tourists come visiting, either be nice to them or lose them to Turkey. One hope of lifting Greece out of this mess is to boost tourism.
Even with limited means, people will still go to the pavement café’s, to the tavernas, to the open air theatres, cinema’s and the bouzouki joints because that is the Greek way of life. With Germany’s help Greece will survive this crisis. Stranger things have happened. The German-Greek partnership may not be such a mismatch after all. Let us not forget that it took a German coach behaving like a Greek and unfancied Greek soccer players behaving like Germans to win the coveted UEFA European Football Cup in 2004. And if things don’t work out and the German financial Polizei from Berlin turn native, go Greek on us and lose their will to work, the ever resourceful Greeks can always follow Diogenes’ celebrated frugal lifestyle and live on the side of the road in a barrel. It’s only money and the ancient Greeks admired austerity and never trusted great wealth anyway.
11 February 2010
By Costas Ayiotis
The President of the European Commission, Jose Manuel Barroso announced today that the EU had reached agreement on a bail out plan for Greece. It seems that the risk of Greek default and contagion spreading to other EU countries like Spain and Portugal has been contained for now. Greece has been a delinquent member of the EU for many years with its serial flouting of the financial rules, running a budget deficit of 12, 7% of GDP; the highest in the EU and more than four times higher than the 3% limit which EU rules allow. As a result the country ran into serious financial trouble amassing sovereign debt of close to a whopping Euro 300 billion. Currently the debt to GDP ratio runs at over 120%. Greece’s debt primarily lies in global bond funds, pension companies and sevral banks including French, Swiss and German banks.
The fiscal accounts and cash flow of Greece are to put it mildly, in a disastrous state and it will take many years of painful and unpopular austerity measures to rehabilitate the troubled country. The Government of Prime Minister George Papandreou now faces the unenviable task of finding the cash it needs to inject into its economy, while simultaneously drastically slashing government spending, freezing the wages and the hiring of government workers, raising the retirement age and increasing taxes on alcohol, tobacco, income and property. The burning question now on everyones lips: Can Greece afford to service its soaring debt and interest payments without outside help?
It was clear to see who the main architect of the latest bail out plan was. Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany emerged out of the EU meeting all smiles and reassuringly announced: “Greece is part of the EU and will not be left on its own.” Without losing her smile for a second, she rather ominously also added: “but there will be strict rules!” And we all know what happens when the Germans impose and apply strict rules. But this may not be such a bad thing. So it is clear that German assistance in whatever form, will come with intrusive conditions. Maybe the concept of economic sovereignty is overrated after all.
Meanwhile the USA faces its own Greek style fiscal crisis. The USA for too long has behaved like an over-indulged and spoilt brat. It has shown that it is equally incapable of running its own finances with China owning a great big chunk of the USA’s debt. The fiscal position of the US does not inspire much confidence with the federal debt running into trillions of dollars. Unlike Greece the USA sets its own monetary policy and has tried to delay the pain with "quantitative easing." This is a nicer way of saying that they potentially have an unlimited capacity to print money and thereby buy time and secure more debt but I still don’t quite understand how you cure debt by getting deeper into debt. Maybe they're hoping that soaring inflation will erode the value of the debt and mop up the excess liquidity injected into their system to rescue US banks and soften the recession.
The markets indicate that as a result of non-specific pledges of EU support for Greece, it has become a little less risky to own Greek debt. But as a bond investor would you have confidence in Greek or for that matter US debt? The USA is certainly no safe haven when it comes to money matters, be it their banks or bonds and even if the dollar still remains the world’s reserve currency for now. As for Greece, on a personal note I would sooner owe money to a Greek than have him owe me money. And whether you are a country or a household, the same old-fashioned golden rule applies: always spend less than you earn. But maybe that is being too simplistic.
Critics will of course point out that there is no comparison between the size and complexity of the US economy which looks more and more like a giant pyramid or Ponzi scheme and the world’s first tzatziki economy. They will point out that the USA has an undervalued dollar and an ever increasing tax-paying, working age population to fuel growth in its consumer driven economy. Greece on the other hand, like many of the other weaker countries in the EU, produces very little and when it does like Spain has high production costs and low productivity. Greece sweats it under an overvalued Euro and would benefit from a weaker currency to stimulate domestic growth. Greece in contrast to the USA has a working age population that is in severe decline and even when working, highly evasive when it comes to paying taxes. Retiring from your strenuous half-day job as a bank teller at the age of fifty is common place. It’s not surprising then that some enterprising but unscrupulous Greek politicians were so keen to import Albanians into the economy, initially to mix concrete and push wheel barrows but now these same Albanians are now building contractors and Egyptians and Pakistanis push the wheel barrows.
Nobody disputes Greece’s enormous contribution to Western civilization in diverse fields such as politics, architecture, art, aesthetics, science, mathematics, medicine and literature. The country has produced many great thinkers and philosophers like Socrates, Plato and Aristotle but unfortunately in more recent times it has also produced many unprincipled rogues, brigands and goat thieves who could not find gainful employment in the towns, cities, mountains, the plains or on the farms so they became politicians.
How did Greece get into this mess? The usual litany of ills, come to mind. Greece like South Africa is run by kleptocrats. Years of economic mismanagement, a succession of inept and corrupt governments from both sides of the political spectrum, a lack of political will and fiscal discipline, access to unlimited, cheap & easy credit, endemic short term thinking and disastrous internal policies, a bloated and inefficient civil service used as a dumping ground by politicians to secure sheltered employment for family, friends and cronies, an ageing population, unacceptably high levels of tax evasion, endemic bribery and corruption at all levels of society and numerous high level scandals involving embezzlement of funds by top government officials.
Transparency International lists Greece alongside Bulgariaand Romania as the most corrupt countries in the 27 member EU, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Colombia. The Greek Finance Ministry reports that a massive 30 % of all economic activity in Greece produces no revenue for the government because of active cheating on taxes by companies, employees and professionals like doctors and lawyers.
The EU should have seen the makings of this Greek tragedy coming. This toxic brew has been bubbling away for years. Crisis and deficits are not something new in the Aegean. They have known about Greece’s irresponsible behaviour as a member state for years and did nothing to bring Greece to order. Therefore they are partially to blame for this fiasco. Some countries are good at balancing the books while other countries are good at cooking the books. Greece clearly falls into the latter category. And Greece is not only good at cooking the books; it has also shown remarkable flair in fiddling with all sorts of statistics. The old saying was: beware of Greeks bearing gifts. It is now beware of Greeks bearing statistics.
I read recently in John Mauldin’s Investor newsletter that a prominent Swiss investor pointed out that Greece has been in default in 105 of the last 200 years. Not a great track record but he is stating the obvious. Greece has always been a volatile country battling to overcome the legacy of Turkish rule and the lack of vision of its own rulers. The Greek people will ultimately foot the bill as they always have throughout history for the stupidity and greed of their political and economic oligarchy or elite. I use these words deliberately because Greece has never had leaders in the true sense of the word, a leader being someone who is prepared to serve and protect the interests of others. I would also like to remind our Swiss commiserator that Switzerland may have clean streets but it also has dirty money. It's banking record is not something to inspire confidence and pride. Self-inflicted deficits and defaults morally speaking, are infinitely less objectionable than protecting the money of despots and dictators or hoarding the treasures, gold and artworks looted by the Nazis from the Jews of Europe.
Nonetheless the unruly Greeks should never be entrusted with state funds and high finance. I would happily outsource the running of Greek finances to a secretariat sitting in Berlin as long as I get an ethical pledge and clearance certificate from Angela Merkel that Siemens will have nothing to do with it. And I would rather live with Germans running Greece’s fiscal policies under German rules than those of the USA or China. Germany is after all the richest, largest and most economically advanced state in Europe. Greeks wearing aprons, a form of national dress in many parts of the country, have in any event been serving wealthy German tourists for years and occasionally stealing their wives. We all get a bit nervous when the Germans are around mainly because the serious-minded, work-seeking, uber-efficient Germans have been known to invade the odd continent in search of lebensraum but thankfully that’s all in the past.
Germany today is an uneasy giant, an embarrassed, bashful power almost reticent to flex its growing financial and political muscle in Europe. They need someone like the hyper-active and energetic Sarkozy to occasionally prod them out of their collective guilt and self-reflective stupor. But Germany also faces a domestic problem. With elections coming up soon, even limited German participation in a Greek bail out plan will not be very popular across the Rhine and may come at a considerable political cost. German taxes are already very high and the disciplined German electorate has very little excess debt to pay off. Why should Germany care and what does Germany get in return?
I don’t know why they are complaining. Angela Merkel may simply be protecting the exposure of German banks to Greek debt. Besides we didn’t ask them to invade us in 1941. Greece also provided German factories with cheap labour in the 50's and 60's. Will the country ever eventually free itself from the guilt of its old sins? Normally we should not hold sons accountable for the sins of their fathers but nor should we forget what they did under Hitler and maybe the Germans should shoulder the burden for Greece’s future stability especially if Germany benefits in the long term as well. The Germans should see the bailout plan as a form of minor reparations or pay back plan for wiping out entire Greek villages and flying the swastika over the Parthenon.
Anyway it seems the Greeks for once are not asking for money. They may be simply be asking France and Germany if they can rely on the superior credit record of these two countries, so that Greece can raise money on the international bond markets at less crippling rates. Being the reluctant financial custodian of the county which gave us democracy may not be sufficient reward. Greece does not contribute much to the GDP of the eurozone but the future viability of the EU may be at stake here. Allowing Greece to collapse may be the fall of the first domino which threatens the very future of the EU, an EU with Germany at the head as its pre-eminent political and economic power. Germany has always been the biggest contributor to EU finances but with the EU a bigger market than the USA, if the EU fails everyone suffers including Germany. The bottom line as other experts have pointed out is that Germany may have to continue paying to maintain its leadership position and to make things work in Europe.
Greece has quite sensibly resisted the urge to follow the American example and sell the country to China. The Greeks don’t like melamine in their famous yoghurt. This anti-China sentiment has mostly been as a result of persistent pressure on the government from the very powerful souvlaki vendors lobby which has vowed that dog meat will never find its way into the venerated souvlaki. In the past dogs were not treated very well in Greece and packs of stray dogs roaming the streets was a common sight. Today following the example set by Diogenes the Cynic who in ancient times roamed the streets of Athens with his staff, lantern and faithful hound at his side searching for an honest man, dogs in Greece have made a fashionable come back and are now understandably more loved and trusted than people.
Greece will never die, so says a famous line in the Greek national anthem and the Greek people are a resilient lot. The country has faced far greater perils than a fiscal crisis in its long and bloody history and endured with its ancient fighting spirit intact. It has resisted invasion from Persian hordes, accommodated Roman occupation; lived through the devastation of its lands by invading Goths and Huns, survived four centuries under the yoke of the Ottoman Turks and more recently Nazi occupation during World War II. Living with German financial planning now necessarily imposed on Athens is a welcome picnic by comparison. And things won’t be so bad. It may be blitzkrieg by other means but rule by the cheque book is far better than Stuka bombardments and Panzer invasions.
Most of the Greek debt is due in four years time but of more immediate concern, the country has to honour an important debt and interest payment in May with more than 50 billion Euros needed just to make it through 2010 alone. The old stock market adage may well apply in reverse. My advice to my compatriots: Pay in May and go away. Go away and lick your wounds. Go away and sing and dance and drink your troubles away as you always have done when things looked bleak. The world is dysfunctional. It has gone mad and nobody should be pointing fingers. We are all collectively responsible for the mess this fragile planet finds itself in today.
And go away they will this summer, to their villages, country homes and islands. The islands will still look beautiful; the Greek flag will still fly over the Parthenon although I suspect the flag pole is made in Germany. And when the sandal clad German tourists come visiting, either be nice to them or lose them to Turkey. One hope of lifting Greece out of this mess is to boost tourism.
Even with limited means, people will still go to the pavement café’s, to the tavernas, to the open air theatres, cinema’s and the bouzouki joints because that is the Greek way of life. With Germany’s help Greece will survive this crisis. Stranger things have happened. The German-Greek partnership may not be such a mismatch after all. Let us not forget that it took a German coach behaving like a Greek and unfancied Greek soccer players behaving like Germans to win the coveted UEFA European Football Cup in 2004. And if things don’t work out and the German financial Polizei from Berlin turn native, go Greek on us and lose their will to work, the ever resourceful Greeks can always follow Diogenes’ celebrated frugal lifestyle and live on the side of the road in a barrel. It’s only money and the ancient Greeks admired austerity and never trusted great wealth anyway.
11 February 2010
La Regime du President
By Costas Ayiotis
The eating habits of a nation’s president may be a useful indicator of the state of a country’s psyche and where a country is headed. The presence or absence of certain foods on the presidential table may not only reveal a lot about the state of a nation but also his state of his mind. What happens when a president who hails from Texas refuses to eat broccoli and when another from Arkansas gorges himself on fattening southern style foods such as hamburgers, fried chicken, barbecued steaks and sticky pork ribs? We get two major wars against Iraq, mayhem in Afghanistan, global warming, melting glaciers and a massive global recession.
Sparta was the dominant military power in ancient Greece. Spartan soldiers consumed a vile, evil smelling broth every day of their lives. They were formidable warriors who picked fights with all the other Greek city states. Maybe there’s a strong case to be made that the more refined, sophisticated and varied a cuisine is, the less belligerent the nation. We also know for instance that an ancient civilization like the Chinese, the people who gave us ice cream and noodles can and will eat anything that moves hence the renewed scramble for Africa and that the leaders of certain African countries are blessed with remarkably strong digestive systems, so like locusts they devour everything in sight. Our former Minster of Sport, who is well known and even admired for his gargantuan appetite, has fittingly been nicknamed “Buffet” Balfour. In a similar vein, others have been called “Pork ribs Radebe”, “Chicken feet Chuene”, “Mincemeat Mahlangu” or the “Mieliepap Mampara.”
Around the corner from where I live and next door to Bicccs, my regular early morning coffee spot, the political elite of South Africa are doing very well for themselves. Regime or diet is simply no longer part of their otherwise colourful lexicon. They have reassuringly robust and roving appetites and are in rude health. They regularly indulge in long lavish lunches at their favourite Pretoria restaurant, Ritrovo. The honourable cadres and ministers of our nascent elite couldn’t care less about La Regime et son Politique. And these are not ordinary lunches. While Diepsloot burns, they enjoy multi-course banquets reminiscent of ancient Greek and Roman symposiums. Under the expert care of Chef/Patron Fortunato and his father Commendatore Giovanni Mazzone, they feast on the finest Italian fare and enjoy the best wines and brandies South Africa has to offer.
Some leaders like “Emperor” Jean-Bedel Bokassa of the Central African Republic took matters a step further. He found a unique way to deal with his political opponents. He ate them. So if you’ll pardon the pun, when you become fed up with your politicians and want to put them to good use, you simply recycle them.
Good food and good eating is the mark of a civilized nation and here the emphasis should be on fresh local produce. Conversely when nations adopt the banal and mindless mass culture of fast food and franchised eating, they quickly slide into mediocrity and decline. How many more themed or franchised food stores does the world need? A recent American study has shown that although more and more people go to Starbucks they don’t necessarily create or enjoy a sense of community. They don’t socialize, talk to each other, debate or exchange ideas. Although they drink coffee, they are not true pavementistas having meaningful and spontaneous conversations with each other free of agendas or ulterior motives.
This brings us to France, the country which gave us Brigit Bardot, professional boulevardiers and crème brulee. When Ernest Hemingway lived in Paris in the 1920’s he cleverly solved the café problem by having three regular cafes which he frequented. One nobody knew about, where he went to read and write in private, a second to entertain his mistress and a third café where he went to meet and socialize with his friends. So why not rather support the brave and solitary chef patron or proprietor of the stand alone, high street, neighbourhood or village café and reject the ersatz or manufactured pseudo culture of imitation and replication forced down our throats by the dubious forces of globalization. Consider that even in café friendly France the war of attrition against independently run establishments continues. In 1960 there were 200 000 traditional style cafes in France. Today their number is down to a mere 40 000. France is a country with a proud and distinguished culinary tradition which goes back hundreds of years. France and Italy have long stood at the pinnacle of what good eating is all about. In the days before Italy’s unification, the two countries even took time out from their endemic fighting and fornicating, to collaborate on the culinary front. When Catherine de Medici married the King of France, she brought along her chefs, a host of elaborate new recipes and even introduced the French court to the fork, a rather useful Florentine invention.
The neighbouring Belgians of course will splutter over one of their famous beers and dispute the pre-eminent position of the French and the Italians in the culinary stakes but nobody in their right mind takes them too seriously or even listens to them and the other bureaucrats loitering in Brussels. To be fair though, the city did have a sprout named after it. Except for a minor blemish in their colonial history, their cruel and bloody legacy in the Congo, the Belgians are the Canadians of Europe.
Now it turns out that the hyperactive President of France, Nicolas Sarkozy has chosen to forego the pleasures of the palate. While his insatiable neighbor Silvio Berlusconi behaves like an irrepressible rogue, grabs the bottoms of meter maids, cavorts with twenty year olds and eats spaghetti, Sarko has taken up jogging and eats like a supermodel. This is in part to please and impress his wife Carla Bruni, a former supermodel turned chanteuse and now the first lady of France. In short, Sarko is behaving like a New Age Wimp. I don’t think the French public is very impressed. If reports coming out of the now redundant kitchens of the Elysee Palace are to be believed, the diminutive Sarko survives on a diet of cottage cheese, fruit compote and mineral water. Now there’s a simple test to determine whether something constitutes real or desirable food. Would a prisoner condemned to the gallows request a tub of cottage cheese as his last meal?
Being labeled a lightweight is not a good thing for an ambitious politician yet the slightly built Sarko has already lost 7 kilograms. Then Sarko met the world’s sexiest male politician. He bumped into the tall and athletic looking Barack Obama and he noticed the way Carla looked appreciatively at the fine figure of the photogenic pin up. Sarko immediately felt jealous and he became even more determined to get fit and stay in shape. A tan is not on the cards. He now also follows the example of recent US presidents and jogs every day. Carla’s personal trainer also introduced him to the joys of pelvic floor exercises and leg squats.
As the president of the world’s greatest cheese eating nation, Sarko’s every move is closely watched by his political opponents, by the ministers in his cabinet and by the French public. The president’s opponents criticize his diet and his leadership style as infantile and dismiss it as la Politique de la Silhouette. Also his choices, preferences and behavior send clear messages to the nation at large. When he first took office he behaved like a pop star and became known as the “bling-bling” president. He wore branded clothes and took great pleasure in showing off his Rolex. Then Carla Bruni came along and changed all that. She whispered into his ear and told him that the best way to show off was by not showing off at all.
The problem now is that Sarko wants to surround himself with thin people and imposes his will on others close to him. Reliable sources in Paris reveal that he “persuades” his cabinet colleagues to lose weight, stay in shape, get better haircuts and dress more stylishly. One can just imagine the type of late night pillow talk that takes place between him and Carla at the apartment they share in one of the city’s more fashionable Arrondisements.
“Mon dieu! He looks and dresses like a butcher from Marseilles. He and his frumpy provincial wife need a complete makeover. Either that or I demote him when I next reshuffle the cabinet. I’ll make him our ambassador to Vanuatu or Kiribati. Either he shapes up or he ships out. ”
Sarko’s ministers have got the message. Eager to please him, get noticed, get promoted, or simply to keep their jobs, they are behaving like most unimaginative and spineless corporate weasels and slavishly copying the boss. One minister has even taken to eating soup, fat free cottage cheese and berries to impress Sarko. No need for that Florentine fork after all. A spoon will do just fine for the nouvelle cuisine pour bebe. Aides at the Elysee Palace confirm that at formal functions, on Sarko’s orders, court or banquet cuisine is now officially out. Meat, pomme frites, cheeses and rich desserts are no longer served to guests. Instead, fish, salads and sorbets are served. Wine is served to those who want it but Sarko sticks to mineral water. This also signals a clear departure from his predecessor Jacques Chirac, who famously favoured beer. Chirac championed the cause of farmers and his aides would warn the staff at cafes, bistros and even four star Michelin restaurants to always put a beer on the table in front of him. This was designed to show that he was the president who was in touch with the common man. Wine was considered too snobbish and elitist.
Now you may reasonably argue that Sarko is setting a good example by encouraging healthy eating habits and maybe also be doing his bit to save the planet by not eating meat. After all is simplicity, self-restraint and moderation not the way to go in a world destroyed by greed and excess? But is a diet of cottage cheese and fruit compote the right way to go? Madame Hortense de Marigny Chabrol, a leading Parisian dietician who operates from a tres chic bureau in the 7th Arrondisement, clearly believes it isn’t. She maintains that the president’s diet is an unbalanced and unhealthy crash diet.
“Maintaining a good silhouette is one thing but the president’s diet is unfortunately an unsustainable and dangerous fad diet over the long term. Mr. Sarkozy is obviously a busy man with a hectic and punishing schedule. His body needs proper fuel to give him the energy he needs to satisfy Carla. That can only come from the correct combination of healthy fats, good carbohydrates and lean protein. It’s no wonder he collapsed recently.”
So what message is Sarko sending to his compatriots and to the world with his exercise regime and his frugal and uninspiring diet? What can we make of his new dining philosophy? Sarko it seems is determined to show the French public and the wider world that he is a fit, healthy, virile and vigorous leader. OK so we know that he tries his best to keep Carla happy, not an easy job. We know he is not a glutton and probably does not suffer from constipation. But in avoiding or shunning the wide variety of gourmet delicacies and sublime regional dishes France has to offer, he is also thumbing his nose at the traditions and culture of his country. Food and gastronomy is a matter of national pride in France. It is an integral and undeniable part of the country’s heritage. Can we imagine France without its world famous chefs, its Michelin rated restaurants, its bistros, patisseries, chocolatiers, boulangeries, charcuteries and epiceries? They form part of the wealth of the country, its patrimonie, its legacy and its very essence. You don’t mess with that if you want to get re-elected.
Sarko is a determined and driven man and clearly he wants to be taken seriously on the global stage and be seen to punch above his weight. Watching him address international events, one can clearly see that he is enjoying himself immensely. He is animated, expressive and gesticulates a lot. He can’t believe his luck, a case of the school nerd who is now accepted by the big boys.
He also has a passion for service delivery, a concept completely alien in some parts of the world, especially in South Africa. Sarko wants to instill German productivity levels and a Thatcherite work ethic in the French. He’s mad. The diet has obviously made him unstable. The French have no business copying the nasty habits of the Germans or the English. It used to be that if you were fired or retrenched in France you became an overnight hero. It was like winning the lotto. You received two years compulsory severance pay and you celebrated with your friends and family over pastis at your local café. The French know what the rest of the world has yet to figure out; the rampant growth model has ruined the world and work is seriously overrated.
If he wants to copy the English he should consider the fine example set by one of Britain’s best loved leaders, Winston Churchill who in marked contrast had a hearty appetite and ate and drank his way to the brink of bankruptcy. He presided over long lunches and dinners at his Chartwell estate featuring several courses. He loved alcohol and had he met the old soak Boris Yeltsin, he would have drunk him under the table. He also smoked 3000 Cuban cigars a year, more than quarter of a million in his life time. He saved his country from wearing lederhosen, socks with sandals and drinking schnapps. He also authored several impressive volumes and lived to a ripe old age.
Although he holds one of the most powerful executive posts in the Western world, unfettered by the kind of checks and balances which restrain the US president, at least Sarko is sensible enough not to tell the French public what to eat. He wouldn’t dare. Marie Antoinette tried that and we all know what happened to her. Was it not another Frenchman, no less than Napoleon Bonaparte who believed that an army marches on its stomach? Well the same can be said of a nation. A well fed population glued to their TV sets is unlikely to start a revolution.
I believe that the diet will eventually lead to Sarko’s demise. The regime will make him irritable, miserable, irrational and impossible to live with which could be a short term inconvenience for France but a long term blessing. But then politicians are unhinged and unreliable at the best of times and one should not get too attached to them. Their political lifespan should ideally be brief like a Hollywood marriage. Like overpaid investment bankers, the function they perform is socially useless. I still find the idea rather quaint that we are required to vote for people who we know are lying to us but then so much of what we are duped into doing by society, by large corporations, by institutions, by what the French call La Systeme, is based on a monumental lie.
Nicolas Sarkozy is at best a temporary aberration and an amusing distraction. He is a passing fad like his diet. Thankfully his habits are not a reliable indicator of where France is ultimately headed. While the rest of the civilized and thinking world wants to live in a village and emulate the hedonistic French diet and lifestyle, he wants to act like a neurotic Upper East Side Manhattanite. All that his diet tells us is that he is a vain man and a president increasingly isolating himself and out of touch with his people. And the damning evidence against him is mounting. Only last week, in an act of hubris and blatant nepotism, he broke his 2007 promise to the electorate and appointed his son as the head of EPAD, the organization which runs the controversial La Defense business district.
Sarko’s diet is bad for the image and prestige of France. The French public, have quite sensibly chosen not to follow his example. They shrug their shoulders with supreme Gallic indifference, pour themselves a fine glass of Bordeaux and tuck into a hearty cassoulet. We all marvel at the French paradox. We love the French because they are refreshingly different in a world obsessed with uniformity and compliance. Their cars are different, their aircraft are different, their women and their films are different. We love the French because they smoke, they drink and eat whatever they want and yet they still manage to outlive the stressed out of their minds Americans crippled by fear.
Charles de Gaulle once remarked, “France cannot be France without glory.”
I say bollocks! The price of glory is too high and always paid with the blood, guts and sacrifices of ordinary people, by citizens like you and me. There is nothing glorious about being dead. Two million people died because of Napoleon’s quest for glory. Another fifty million died when another megalomaniac, Adolf Hitler pursued his twisted idea of glory for a greater Nazi Germany.
I say forget glory, forget silly diets and forget politicians. France cannot be France without gastronomy. France cannot be France without its villages, its café’s and its legendary culinary traditions. France cannot be France without its celebrated cheeses, its rich pates, its excellent wines and crusty baguettes. But France can and will be France without Nicolas Sarkozy.
Anyone for crème brulee?
By Costas Ayiotis
The eating habits of a nation’s president may be a useful indicator of the state of a country’s psyche and where a country is headed. The presence or absence of certain foods on the presidential table may not only reveal a lot about the state of a nation but also his state of his mind. What happens when a president who hails from Texas refuses to eat broccoli and when another from Arkansas gorges himself on fattening southern style foods such as hamburgers, fried chicken, barbecued steaks and sticky pork ribs? We get two major wars against Iraq, mayhem in Afghanistan, global warming, melting glaciers and a massive global recession.
Sparta was the dominant military power in ancient Greece. Spartan soldiers consumed a vile, evil smelling broth every day of their lives. They were formidable warriors who picked fights with all the other Greek city states. Maybe there’s a strong case to be made that the more refined, sophisticated and varied a cuisine is, the less belligerent the nation. We also know for instance that an ancient civilization like the Chinese, the people who gave us ice cream and noodles can and will eat anything that moves hence the renewed scramble for Africa and that the leaders of certain African countries are blessed with remarkably strong digestive systems, so like locusts they devour everything in sight. Our former Minster of Sport, who is well known and even admired for his gargantuan appetite, has fittingly been nicknamed “Buffet” Balfour. In a similar vein, others have been called “Pork ribs Radebe”, “Chicken feet Chuene”, “Mincemeat Mahlangu” or the “Mieliepap Mampara.”
Around the corner from where I live and next door to Bicccs, my regular early morning coffee spot, the political elite of South Africa are doing very well for themselves. Regime or diet is simply no longer part of their otherwise colourful lexicon. They have reassuringly robust and roving appetites and are in rude health. They regularly indulge in long lavish lunches at their favourite Pretoria restaurant, Ritrovo. The honourable cadres and ministers of our nascent elite couldn’t care less about La Regime et son Politique. And these are not ordinary lunches. While Diepsloot burns, they enjoy multi-course banquets reminiscent of ancient Greek and Roman symposiums. Under the expert care of Chef/Patron Fortunato and his father Commendatore Giovanni Mazzone, they feast on the finest Italian fare and enjoy the best wines and brandies South Africa has to offer.
Some leaders like “Emperor” Jean-Bedel Bokassa of the Central African Republic took matters a step further. He found a unique way to deal with his political opponents. He ate them. So if you’ll pardon the pun, when you become fed up with your politicians and want to put them to good use, you simply recycle them.
Good food and good eating is the mark of a civilized nation and here the emphasis should be on fresh local produce. Conversely when nations adopt the banal and mindless mass culture of fast food and franchised eating, they quickly slide into mediocrity and decline. How many more themed or franchised food stores does the world need? A recent American study has shown that although more and more people go to Starbucks they don’t necessarily create or enjoy a sense of community. They don’t socialize, talk to each other, debate or exchange ideas. Although they drink coffee, they are not true pavementistas having meaningful and spontaneous conversations with each other free of agendas or ulterior motives.
This brings us to France, the country which gave us Brigit Bardot, professional boulevardiers and crème brulee. When Ernest Hemingway lived in Paris in the 1920’s he cleverly solved the café problem by having three regular cafes which he frequented. One nobody knew about, where he went to read and write in private, a second to entertain his mistress and a third café where he went to meet and socialize with his friends. So why not rather support the brave and solitary chef patron or proprietor of the stand alone, high street, neighbourhood or village café and reject the ersatz or manufactured pseudo culture of imitation and replication forced down our throats by the dubious forces of globalization. Consider that even in café friendly France the war of attrition against independently run establishments continues. In 1960 there were 200 000 traditional style cafes in France. Today their number is down to a mere 40 000. France is a country with a proud and distinguished culinary tradition which goes back hundreds of years. France and Italy have long stood at the pinnacle of what good eating is all about. In the days before Italy’s unification, the two countries even took time out from their endemic fighting and fornicating, to collaborate on the culinary front. When Catherine de Medici married the King of France, she brought along her chefs, a host of elaborate new recipes and even introduced the French court to the fork, a rather useful Florentine invention.
The neighbouring Belgians of course will splutter over one of their famous beers and dispute the pre-eminent position of the French and the Italians in the culinary stakes but nobody in their right mind takes them too seriously or even listens to them and the other bureaucrats loitering in Brussels. To be fair though, the city did have a sprout named after it. Except for a minor blemish in their colonial history, their cruel and bloody legacy in the Congo, the Belgians are the Canadians of Europe.
Now it turns out that the hyperactive President of France, Nicolas Sarkozy has chosen to forego the pleasures of the palate. While his insatiable neighbor Silvio Berlusconi behaves like an irrepressible rogue, grabs the bottoms of meter maids, cavorts with twenty year olds and eats spaghetti, Sarko has taken up jogging and eats like a supermodel. This is in part to please and impress his wife Carla Bruni, a former supermodel turned chanteuse and now the first lady of France. In short, Sarko is behaving like a New Age Wimp. I don’t think the French public is very impressed. If reports coming out of the now redundant kitchens of the Elysee Palace are to be believed, the diminutive Sarko survives on a diet of cottage cheese, fruit compote and mineral water. Now there’s a simple test to determine whether something constitutes real or desirable food. Would a prisoner condemned to the gallows request a tub of cottage cheese as his last meal?
Being labeled a lightweight is not a good thing for an ambitious politician yet the slightly built Sarko has already lost 7 kilograms. Then Sarko met the world’s sexiest male politician. He bumped into the tall and athletic looking Barack Obama and he noticed the way Carla looked appreciatively at the fine figure of the photogenic pin up. Sarko immediately felt jealous and he became even more determined to get fit and stay in shape. A tan is not on the cards. He now also follows the example of recent US presidents and jogs every day. Carla’s personal trainer also introduced him to the joys of pelvic floor exercises and leg squats.
As the president of the world’s greatest cheese eating nation, Sarko’s every move is closely watched by his political opponents, by the ministers in his cabinet and by the French public. The president’s opponents criticize his diet and his leadership style as infantile and dismiss it as la Politique de la Silhouette. Also his choices, preferences and behavior send clear messages to the nation at large. When he first took office he behaved like a pop star and became known as the “bling-bling” president. He wore branded clothes and took great pleasure in showing off his Rolex. Then Carla Bruni came along and changed all that. She whispered into his ear and told him that the best way to show off was by not showing off at all.
The problem now is that Sarko wants to surround himself with thin people and imposes his will on others close to him. Reliable sources in Paris reveal that he “persuades” his cabinet colleagues to lose weight, stay in shape, get better haircuts and dress more stylishly. One can just imagine the type of late night pillow talk that takes place between him and Carla at the apartment they share in one of the city’s more fashionable Arrondisements.
“Mon dieu! He looks and dresses like a butcher from Marseilles. He and his frumpy provincial wife need a complete makeover. Either that or I demote him when I next reshuffle the cabinet. I’ll make him our ambassador to Vanuatu or Kiribati. Either he shapes up or he ships out. ”
Sarko’s ministers have got the message. Eager to please him, get noticed, get promoted, or simply to keep their jobs, they are behaving like most unimaginative and spineless corporate weasels and slavishly copying the boss. One minister has even taken to eating soup, fat free cottage cheese and berries to impress Sarko. No need for that Florentine fork after all. A spoon will do just fine for the nouvelle cuisine pour bebe. Aides at the Elysee Palace confirm that at formal functions, on Sarko’s orders, court or banquet cuisine is now officially out. Meat, pomme frites, cheeses and rich desserts are no longer served to guests. Instead, fish, salads and sorbets are served. Wine is served to those who want it but Sarko sticks to mineral water. This also signals a clear departure from his predecessor Jacques Chirac, who famously favoured beer. Chirac championed the cause of farmers and his aides would warn the staff at cafes, bistros and even four star Michelin restaurants to always put a beer on the table in front of him. This was designed to show that he was the president who was in touch with the common man. Wine was considered too snobbish and elitist.
Now you may reasonably argue that Sarko is setting a good example by encouraging healthy eating habits and maybe also be doing his bit to save the planet by not eating meat. After all is simplicity, self-restraint and moderation not the way to go in a world destroyed by greed and excess? But is a diet of cottage cheese and fruit compote the right way to go? Madame Hortense de Marigny Chabrol, a leading Parisian dietician who operates from a tres chic bureau in the 7th Arrondisement, clearly believes it isn’t. She maintains that the president’s diet is an unbalanced and unhealthy crash diet.
“Maintaining a good silhouette is one thing but the president’s diet is unfortunately an unsustainable and dangerous fad diet over the long term. Mr. Sarkozy is obviously a busy man with a hectic and punishing schedule. His body needs proper fuel to give him the energy he needs to satisfy Carla. That can only come from the correct combination of healthy fats, good carbohydrates and lean protein. It’s no wonder he collapsed recently.”
So what message is Sarko sending to his compatriots and to the world with his exercise regime and his frugal and uninspiring diet? What can we make of his new dining philosophy? Sarko it seems is determined to show the French public and the wider world that he is a fit, healthy, virile and vigorous leader. OK so we know that he tries his best to keep Carla happy, not an easy job. We know he is not a glutton and probably does not suffer from constipation. But in avoiding or shunning the wide variety of gourmet delicacies and sublime regional dishes France has to offer, he is also thumbing his nose at the traditions and culture of his country. Food and gastronomy is a matter of national pride in France. It is an integral and undeniable part of the country’s heritage. Can we imagine France without its world famous chefs, its Michelin rated restaurants, its bistros, patisseries, chocolatiers, boulangeries, charcuteries and epiceries? They form part of the wealth of the country, its patrimonie, its legacy and its very essence. You don’t mess with that if you want to get re-elected.
Sarko is a determined and driven man and clearly he wants to be taken seriously on the global stage and be seen to punch above his weight. Watching him address international events, one can clearly see that he is enjoying himself immensely. He is animated, expressive and gesticulates a lot. He can’t believe his luck, a case of the school nerd who is now accepted by the big boys.
He also has a passion for service delivery, a concept completely alien in some parts of the world, especially in South Africa. Sarko wants to instill German productivity levels and a Thatcherite work ethic in the French. He’s mad. The diet has obviously made him unstable. The French have no business copying the nasty habits of the Germans or the English. It used to be that if you were fired or retrenched in France you became an overnight hero. It was like winning the lotto. You received two years compulsory severance pay and you celebrated with your friends and family over pastis at your local café. The French know what the rest of the world has yet to figure out; the rampant growth model has ruined the world and work is seriously overrated.
If he wants to copy the English he should consider the fine example set by one of Britain’s best loved leaders, Winston Churchill who in marked contrast had a hearty appetite and ate and drank his way to the brink of bankruptcy. He presided over long lunches and dinners at his Chartwell estate featuring several courses. He loved alcohol and had he met the old soak Boris Yeltsin, he would have drunk him under the table. He also smoked 3000 Cuban cigars a year, more than quarter of a million in his life time. He saved his country from wearing lederhosen, socks with sandals and drinking schnapps. He also authored several impressive volumes and lived to a ripe old age.
Although he holds one of the most powerful executive posts in the Western world, unfettered by the kind of checks and balances which restrain the US president, at least Sarko is sensible enough not to tell the French public what to eat. He wouldn’t dare. Marie Antoinette tried that and we all know what happened to her. Was it not another Frenchman, no less than Napoleon Bonaparte who believed that an army marches on its stomach? Well the same can be said of a nation. A well fed population glued to their TV sets is unlikely to start a revolution.
I believe that the diet will eventually lead to Sarko’s demise. The regime will make him irritable, miserable, irrational and impossible to live with which could be a short term inconvenience for France but a long term blessing. But then politicians are unhinged and unreliable at the best of times and one should not get too attached to them. Their political lifespan should ideally be brief like a Hollywood marriage. Like overpaid investment bankers, the function they perform is socially useless. I still find the idea rather quaint that we are required to vote for people who we know are lying to us but then so much of what we are duped into doing by society, by large corporations, by institutions, by what the French call La Systeme, is based on a monumental lie.
Nicolas Sarkozy is at best a temporary aberration and an amusing distraction. He is a passing fad like his diet. Thankfully his habits are not a reliable indicator of where France is ultimately headed. While the rest of the civilized and thinking world wants to live in a village and emulate the hedonistic French diet and lifestyle, he wants to act like a neurotic Upper East Side Manhattanite. All that his diet tells us is that he is a vain man and a president increasingly isolating himself and out of touch with his people. And the damning evidence against him is mounting. Only last week, in an act of hubris and blatant nepotism, he broke his 2007 promise to the electorate and appointed his son as the head of EPAD, the organization which runs the controversial La Defense business district.
Sarko’s diet is bad for the image and prestige of France. The French public, have quite sensibly chosen not to follow his example. They shrug their shoulders with supreme Gallic indifference, pour themselves a fine glass of Bordeaux and tuck into a hearty cassoulet. We all marvel at the French paradox. We love the French because they are refreshingly different in a world obsessed with uniformity and compliance. Their cars are different, their aircraft are different, their women and their films are different. We love the French because they smoke, they drink and eat whatever they want and yet they still manage to outlive the stressed out of their minds Americans crippled by fear.
Charles de Gaulle once remarked, “France cannot be France without glory.”
I say bollocks! The price of glory is too high and always paid with the blood, guts and sacrifices of ordinary people, by citizens like you and me. There is nothing glorious about being dead. Two million people died because of Napoleon’s quest for glory. Another fifty million died when another megalomaniac, Adolf Hitler pursued his twisted idea of glory for a greater Nazi Germany.
I say forget glory, forget silly diets and forget politicians. France cannot be France without gastronomy. France cannot be France without its villages, its café’s and its legendary culinary traditions. France cannot be France without its celebrated cheeses, its rich pates, its excellent wines and crusty baguettes. But France can and will be France without Nicolas Sarkozy.
Anyone for crème brulee?
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