The last time I sat in the Strand Street Lutheran Church was at the funeral service of my late first wife’s Uncle Henry whose chances of reaching heaven, said the minister, were not great.
Apparently Henry had visited the church on arriving in Cape Town as a young man from Norway, and had never gone back until wheeled in in his coffin. The family was shocked, but fortunately Henry’s widow had senile dementia and didn’t understand her loving husband had just been consigned to hell.
Every September when the police release their crime statistics, I check out where I am least likely to be murdered.
This year once again the little West Coast village of Doringbaai tops the list. It hasn’t had a murder ever since |the police discovered it. They always mention it in their statistics, to prove how much they are in control of violent crime in key spots.
A wonderful thing, bureaucracy. It can deprive people of their livelihoods at the stroke of a pen.
That’s what it’s done to hundreds of Cape Town tour guides who completed a three-year national diploma in tourism management at the Cape Peninsula University of Technology and have been working competently in the industry ever since, only to be informed by the Department of Tourism that their accreditation is now invalid.