REDEEMED PIONEER

On this day in 1945 an estimated 80,000 people were instantly killed off in one of the most devastatingly diabolical events in human history.    It is further estimated that this already deplorably disturbing death toll rose to 140,000 by the end of 1945.     The city of Hiroshima in Japan became the world’s very first air to ground target of a nuclear attack.     At around 08:15 on that fateful morning a B29 bomber plane, Enola Gay, dropped a nuclear bomb onto Hiroshima which, by the end of 1945, had killed 40% of the total population of the city.     The powers at be had the audacity to name the bomb LITTLE BOY.     This incredulously indignant irony is completely lost on my insufferably empathetic heart.     To add further insane insult to inhumane injury, just three days later on 9 August 1945, hideous history repeated itself and Nagasaki, another Japanese city, became the world’s second air to ground target of a nuclear attack.     By the end of 1945, 70,000 people in Nagasaki had

Seven hundred and thirty one days ago, in the dead of a Free State winter, a hunkingly handsome silver-haired man walked the prettiest, most radiant young bride down the aisle to meet up with her picture-perfect attractive young groom in front of the alter.    With the blessing and guidance of the most compassionate and wisest minister, these two youngsters vowed faithful commitment to each other in a matrimonial partnership of a lifetime. The handsome silver-haired hunk is my beloved Assie.    The prettiest radiant bride is our beloved Jess, the youngest of our awesome foursome offspring.    The picture-perfect attractive groom is Martin, our beloved newest son-in-love.    The compassionate, wise minister is Charles James, team-leading  dominee  of my beloved  Pellissier Gemeente  and precious friend.    The date is Saturday 30 July 2022, the venue is Memories4Ever and the gracious host is Henrihet Human, who just about moved heaven and earth to ensure the bride got exactly what she w

  My beloved Assie and I spent a few days on a Free State farm last week.    During the day, from the outside verandah of our cottage, we enjoyed the breathtaking view of the open expanse of the African savannah.    At night, Assie proved himself to be polished pyromaniac with enviable engineering skills in building remarkable fires in our indoor fireplace.   Assie is a keen and pretty knowledgeable bird watcher, and although I will likely never share his passion for this particular pastime, I have taken some interest in observing the feather-winged creatures of the sky.    Often, I find myself more amused by the perceived paradoxical ambiguity and/or lack of consistency in bird naming convention and the translation thereof into either one of the two languages in which I am proficient.    I have noticed that it would appear that, sometimes, when initiative lacks, the term CAPE is slapped on as a prefix to an English bird name, and more interestingly, then translated into Afrikaans as 

Although I started out in Afrikaans, I decided to write this reflection in English to make it accessible to ALL of my faithful readers and beyond. In response to an invitation from Hospice Bloemfontein, I embraced the opportunity to attend a special event this past Sunday evening.    HOPE AND HEALING, a profoundly deep, open discussion on the topic of ASSISTED DEATH which was hosted by a local Bloemfontein Dutch Reformed Church,  Berg & Dal NG Gemeente .    As introduction, a 24-minute  Netwerk24  video documentary was screened.    It told the heartbreaking story of the last part of 63-year-old Carol de Swardt’s journey to her life’s final destination in Switzerland, where she was able to legally end her own life with the assistance of medical professionals.    Carol’s unspeakable suffering for an unbearably long time led her to this decision, undoubtedly the most difficult and important of her entire life.    Her heartfelt plea was overtly simple -  I do not want to lose myself, I

This is an opinion-infused exposé on the dreary, drawn-out saga of South African government gwarra gwarra and the half-baked rehearsals of petty politicians, as expressed by a profoundly gatvol, straight-shooting South African woman, on behalf of ALL her fellow rainbow citizens. Like so many of my fellow South Africans, I also voted yesterday.    I arrived at the venue at 20:15 and by 21:35, I left there with a smile and a pretty faint purple-ish smudge on my left thumb from the last bit of ink left in the pen.    Although my indirect experience throughout the day was filled with frustration and anger, my actual direct experience at the venue was fulfilling and pleasant. Although they reside in areas all over the city now, most of my adult offspring and their respective significant others are still registered at the same voting venue as my beloved Assie and myself.    Three of them arrived at the venue at 07:00 and they were directed to queue in the first of two queues assigned to vote