I was preceded, on the air, by Toni Brockhoven, who was introducing her new book, the ‘Living Without Cruelty Cookbook‘.  The book is meant to ‘make things easier for people considering changing their eating habits’ and is ‘a cookbook with locally available ingredients and with easy and often familiar recipes, albeit with a twist’.

The launch of the book was timed to coincide with the World Day for the Abolition of Meat (30 January 2010), an occasion aimed at ‘promoting the abolition of the idea of treating/viewing/exploiting animals as food’.  A touchy subject, to say the least, and one about which Toni is rather passionate.

The main idea put forward, aside from the emotional aspect of eating meat, was the effect global vegetarianism might have on global warming.  If we all became vegetarians overnight, the theory goes, our carbon woes might well be solved, and the world would be a happier, prettier place.

Well, as anyone listening will know, I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that, and very soon found myself weighing in on the subject.  In my view, a more balanced approach is necessary – that of cutting down drastically on the amount of meat we eat, steering way away from the mass-production that leads to battery-farms and feedlots, and being more connected with where, when and how our food was created.  To quote Michael Pollan, we get to vote with our forks three times a day, and that is the way I choose to do it.

I wouldn’t have thought that was too controversial, but I soon received a number of emails from ‘concerned listeners’, who viewed my stance as contrary to my ‘green’ persona, and took umbrage to what I had said.

So, because I’m not too sure about my verbal skills, and far better at expressing myself in words (and because I don’t want you folks out there thinking I’m an animal-hating harpy), I’d like to share the response I sent to those mails:

Thank you for getting in touch, and for challenging me on this issue.

I am well aware of the detrimental effects of producing meat on a massive scale – the strain on the planet’s resources, as well as the physical and likely mental suffering of the animals themselves. I am not ignorant of the conditions experienced on these factory farms, and am strongly against them. Perhaps I was not as clear about that as I would like to have been – I am far better at expressing my views in writing, rather than verbally.

I could never become a vegetarian because of my appreciation of the great diversity of food sources available to us as omnivores, but I do try to limit the amount of meat I eat, and to further limit that to meat that has, to the best of my knowledge, been raised in a humane and sustainable manner.

I do not think it realistic that human beings are going to very suddenly change their diets completely, and become vegetarians overnight. Some may be able to so, but I am for a more moderate approach: one of reducing significantly the amount of meat we eat, and supporting only those farmers that treat their animals with respect and care. The more we support them, the more likely it is that other farmers will choose to farm sustainably as well.

In contrast with this, I’d like to point out that, if done in a well managed, sustainable manner, raising grass-fed cattle (for example) can potentially preserve the environment, rather than destroying it. A recent article in Time Magazine went into this in some detail, showing that properly managed cattle farms can actually sequester more carbon than is produced, meaning they could help reverse the effects of global warming.

Feedlots are not the way to raise animals – on this point I entirely agree with you. Feedlots, battery farms and other means of mass-producing animals have come about because of mankind’s greed for cheap meat, and plenty of it. It is these operations that have taken animals out of a more natural habitat into one that requires the many external inputs that result in such high environmental costs: mass production of grain (which usually requires pesticides, artificial fertilisers and plenty of water), transport of the grain (often over long distances), the ridiculous amounts of water required to flush out the fetid, cramped quarters the animals must inhabit and more besides.

Naturally-raised animals, however, need not have such a high environmental cost, and can in fact form a self-sustaining system that no longer requires external inputs. It is a delicate balance, though: cows (for example) eat the grass and create manure; chickens follow behind and feast on the bugs contained in the manure; and the manure provides the ground with nourishment. By keeping the numbers limited – by eating cows, chickens and eggs – we become part of the cycle, and provide that balance. If there were too many cows, the land would be overrun, and the grass unable to replenish itself (the cycle would be disrupted).

And what of land that cannot be cultivated? If we are to feed the world’s population, we must use our space wisely and carefully. And eating animals that are able to graze that land is, in my view, a better use of available resources than shipping in plant-based foods from somewhere else.

It is a complex and multifaceted issue, but my personal belief is that the solution lies in mankind becoming less greedy, treating the earth and its creatures better, and developing a greater understanding of what our individual and collective impact is on this beautiful earth. Through this we can make better, greener choices, and rediscover how to live in harmony with nature – vegetarians and omnivores alike.

What’s your take on this?  I really do welcome constructive debate, so if you have something to add, please leave a comment below!

Why?  Because I eat organic food, of course, which means I am definitely much healthier (more nutrients, happier plants, blah blah) and no disease could come within three feet of me.  Right?

Wrong.  On Sunday evening, that there smug smile to which I’d become rather attached was rapidly wiped from my face, and I unceremoniously became a victim of RoadRunner flu.

I call it that because I felt just like old Wile E Coyote, trying again and again, to stop the danged deranged dust-trailing bird in its tracks.  And every time you set up your defences, and prepare boldly to leave your bed… along comes the RoadRunner and rides roughshod all over you, flattening you like an insignificant pancake – meep-meeping maniacally as it goes.

Ah, a fever can conjure up some rather vivid images indeed -  let’s just say it was an interesting week… (there’s only so much meep-meeping a girl can take, after all)

But, with some heavy duty vitamins and a bit of TLC, I seem to be back on my feet again, although still with that distinct feeling of having had to scrape myself together off the floor and rearrange all the pieces.

Ahem, so there will be no good green news this week.  Nor will there be an events highlight today.  I’m just too danged tired.

The moral of the story?  Beware the flu and eat all your veggies but be sure to supplement them with kick-ass vitamins, because even organic vegetables will not save your sorry meep-meeped ass.

Have a great weekend!

They’re part of the Hard Rain exhibition, an outdoor photography exhibit with a strong message: we’re messing up our planet (big-time), and we need to do something about it.

Global warming, climate change, human rights abuses – all represented in large, in-your-face photographic form, alongside the chilling words of Bob Dylan’s prophetic song: A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.

The images are disturbing, and no one except those with the very thickest of skins (or most eco-friendly of habits) could come away from the exhibit feeling entirely clear of conscience. Somehow, I think, the beautiful setting has a way of making the images even poignant than they might be elsewhere…

Children swimming amongst unbelievably polluted waters, fishing for pieces of plastic they can recycle; a dead cow, dangling from one leg, in a pool of blood (a victim of BSE), whilst two men nonchalantly smoke cigarettes nearby; a Bushman child in Namibia, watching over his dying horse, unable to provide the water it needs to survive (global warming) – the stories these photographs tell are harrowing.

And so they should be. And we should be disturbed. These problems are all man-made, ultimately, and every single one of us plays a part in the environmental damage done to the earth every single day.

We waste. We plunder. We destroy. And unless we do something about the way we treat our planet, those images will become our own reality (and not something we can laugh off because it’s happening somewhere else).

Some might say that the pictures are too upsetting for children, and certainly there are some that would (and do) make kids (and the rest of us) uncomfortable.  But I think they should see them – preferably with someone who’s prepared to explain what they’re all about (would you be able to do so?).

They’re the next in line, after all, and there’s no hiding from the effects our actions will have on them…

Right, rant over. Enough said. Go, see it. It will rattle your cage.

The Hard Rain Exhibition is on at Kirstenbosch Botanical Garden (Newlands) until April 2008. You’ll find the exhibit outdoors, near the main restaurant (ie at the bottom of the gardens). There’s no entrance fee, other than the one you pay for general entry to the gardens.

In fact, the thing you learn fastest when you’re travelling with everything on your back is that the less you have to carry around with you, the happier you’re going to be.

There’s something so very liberating about having fewer choices when you wake up in the morning, and about possessing less superfluous ‘stuff’ that just clutters up your life.

Fearing I’d lose this feeling once the adventure had ended, the moment I got home, back to every-day non-backpack-toting life, I took drastic action, attacking my pile of possessions and turfing out everything that didn’t seem necessary anymore (given away, not dumped in the bin!).

It felt fabulous! And still does. But, of course, now I have to make sure I don’t start creating a new collection of ‘things’ to take the place of the one before (and clutter up my life all over again).

Which is why I find the idea of International Buy Nothing Day, coming up this Saturday (24 November), rather appealing. It’s ‘an informal day of protest against consumerism observed by social activists’ (Wikipedia) first organised back in 1992 “as a day for society to examine the issue of over-consumption.”

Whilst I wouldn’t really consider myself a social activist, the constant commercial bombardment we have to endure during the ever-lengthening run-up to the so-called ‘festive season’ and Christmas is enough to make me feel strongly enough to support the intiative by staying away from the shops.

If we all did the same perhaps all those greedy media-obsessed stores would sit up and take notice, even it’s only for one day. Besides, not going shopping automatically means not being tortured relentlessly by the annoying overplayed Christmas carols that are otherwise unavoidable at this time of year – and that’s a good enough reason for me.

I will, however, still be going to market – in my opinion, not buying anything at all is a little extreme (if you’re not a social activist), and those who make their living selling home-made goods and fresh produce (without resorting to media frenzy) shouldn’t be penalised.

Find out more about ‘Buy Nothing Day’ here.

And then, naturally, the longer I left it the sillier it seemed to announce that I wasn’t in the Mother City and wouldn’t, therefore, be able to write about the kind of things that interest me when I am here. So, I said nothing. Instead, I travelled and wrote about that experience somewhere else.

But, my overseas travels are now over, and I can say with absolute and ecstatic honesty that nowhere I have been is quite as beautiful as our own glorious Cape Town. I am spectactularly fired up to get back to doing things Capetonian, visiting my old haunts (and finding new ones), discovering new sources of things organic, and checking out what’s on in the Mother City.

That should keep me busy enough to stop me going anywhere outside the country again (and horribly neglecting MCL) for quite some time.

Please bear with me as I bring MCL back up to speed, dealing with quite a few glitches that appear to have popped up willfully in my absence (photos disappearing and an inability to save any changes made to my ‘Events Calendar’ being just two of many rebellious signs of complete and utter disobedience on my blog’s behalf).

Let the summer begin!

It’s not something I’d generally think to write about on Mother City Living, seeing as it isn’t (yet) relevant to Cape Town, but my recent obsession with honey sparked an avid interest in the bees themselves.

And somehow after finding out more about the importance of the industrious little critters for agricultural pollination (and, therefore, the production of crops and other food) – the topic struck a chord.

Here’s some of what the article had to say:

It seems like the plot of a particularly far-fetched horror film. But some scientists suggest that our love of the cellphone could cause massive food shortages as the world’s harvests fail.

They are putting forward the theory that radiation given off by cellphones and other high-tech gadgets is a possible answer to one of the more bizarre mysteries ever to happen in the natural world – the abrupt disappearance of the bees that pollinate crops.

The numbers are astounding: 60% of commercial bees on the US’s West Coast have simply vanished; and a whopping 70% on the East Coast. And it’s spreading to Europe.

The implications of the spread are alarming. Most of the world’s crops depend on pollination by bees. Albert Einstein once said that if the bees disappeared “man would have only four years of life left”.

Doesn’t that make your hair stand on end?

Well, I’m no fan of cellphones. I dislike them intensely and use mine as sparingly as I can. They bother my head, so it wouldn’t surprise me at all if they confused the hell out of bees.

Here’s hoping we don’t scare our bees away too – firstly, it would mean even higher food prices than we already have to deal with and, secondly, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my fix of splendiferous honey!

As anyone who’s been in Cape Town over the last month will know, the weather has been on people’s minds even more than usual.

A couple of weeks ago those of us without aircon sweltered through days and unending days of stifling heat (over 40 degrees in the city bowl), sweating over hot keyboards and grumbling about the unfairness of being stuck in an office at times like those.

This week, temperatures have plummeted and it’s been raining for several days… RAINING! It’s unreasonable and unseasonable and far too much like winter for my liking (I even had to haul out my down duvet!).

Don’t get me wrong, I love winter and I love rain (we thirsty Capetonians most certainly need the water), but not in February!

February is the one month of the year that you’re supposed to be able to depend upon for good, warm, south-easter-free days. Days meant for catching up on all the beaching you missed out on when the tourists were clogging up the roads and the wind was turning the beach sand into a giant mobile loofah.

We Capetonians can put up with weeks and weeks of the howling Cape Doctor, downpour after downpour, going well beyond the boundaries of normal human endurance – simply because we know that in February things will be different.

February, however, clearly has other ideas in mind. Rebellious February. Fickle February. Perhaps it’s March’s turn to become our new best friend.

The photo above, by the way, was taken this morning on my way to work. Beautiful crepuscular rays. That’s right: crepuscular! It may be cold out, but it’s still incredibly beautiful (apologies to anyone I might possibly have swerved towards, trying to get that shot).

Unlike its hard-to-spot predecessor, Halley’s Comet (back in 1986), McNaught brazenly blazed across Cape Town’s skies in apocalyptic fashion, and we Capetonians came out in force to catch a glimpse of this celestial spectacle.

For me, it became something of an obsession, and I found myself, night after night, making the trip all the way over Ou Kaapse Weg to get just one more look at it.

The first night (a Tuesday) I went to look for McNaught, unruly clouds got in the way, shrouding the comet from view. All I saw was a beautiful Noordhoek sunset (agh, shame) and I returned to the southern suburbs with my comet-thirst unquenched.

The second night (a Wednesday) was much clearer, so once again I zipped over the mountain to Noordhoek and settled down on the deck of Thorfynns Restaurant, in Monkey Valley, knocking back tequilas and hoping there’d be a good show.

There was. And once I’d spotted the comet, I whipped out my tripod and started taking photos… Everyone on the deck got very excited (I suspect happy hour helped with that) and pointed upwards for those who were overly focused on their beers.

Suddenly, everyone was a comet expert. Long discussions ensued as to how far away it was (’500 gazillion miles’), where it was going (‘straight into the sun!’) and how long it would be before it came around again (‘not in our lifetime, bru’).

“More, more, I’m still not satisfied!”
Tom Lehrer

It was beautiful, and the perfect evening, and it should have been enough. But, as I was rapidly discovering, hunting comets can be addictive, and I wanted MORE – just one more look, just one more photo.

I held out until the weekend.

Come Saturday I was champing at the bit, waiting to see McNaught again. When I found out that Venus and the moon would be putting on a bit of show of their own, there was no stopping me, and I made yet another trip to Noordhoek to set up my tripod and wait.

As the sun set, a beautiful crescent moon appeared on the horizon. Then, the comet started showing, very faintly at first, but growing brighter as the light left the horizon.

As if that wasn’t beautiful enough, Venus then appeared right next to the sliver of moon, looking somehow like a sparkling diamond on a slender silver ring.

The combination of streaking comet, venus-and-moon ensemble and the sweeping light of Kommetjie’s Slangkop lighthouse will stay with me forever, I am sure. After all, what are the chances I’ll see something like that again?!

Winding my way back home I wished, somehow, that I knew nothing about astronomy, and could just have concentrated on the scene, like a child, without knowing how it all works (or sort of how it all works). Knowledge kinda takes the magic out of it, I think.

But that’s not all, folks. On Monday, I decided that my mother simply had to see the comet (‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity’ blah blah) so in exchange for a home-cooked meal I took her to get her very first look at it.

As it turned out, a fire had been raging in Noordhoek all through that day, and the resulting view (from OU Kaapse Weg) was startlingly apocalyptic.

Looking at that fiery scene it wasn’t so very difficult to understand why comets were so often regarded as harbingers of doom and signs of a god’s wrath… (perhaps they were on to something, and we should be paying more attention!).

And so ended my McNaught addiction, almost as abruptly as it began.

For all you fellow addicts out there, here are a few places to look at images of Comet McNaught, taken from around the world:

• Comet McNaught Photogallery on Spaceweather.com
• Comet McNaught Photo Pool on Flickr
• SkyTonight Photo Gallery

My own comet pics are here.

Seven people hiking in two groups have been mugged in Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens since Friday, with the latest victims being a couple from Australia.

“They were hiking up the mountain route to Skeleton Gorge,” Kirstenbosch curator Philip Le Roux said.

“They were approached by four men armed with knives and were told to hand over their valuables like cameras, cellphones and wallets.”

(IOL News)

We hear about it all the time, and normally we just feel sympathy for the people involved and relief that it didn’t happen to us. We take all the precautions that we’ve become accustomed to working into our daily lives, believing if we do all of that, we’ll be fine.

It’s only when it does happen to us, or nearly does, that we really start paying attention, and we suddenly realise that whilst precautions will help most of the time, they can only do so much.

When my brother was visiting last month from London (he’s South African, but has been over there for a few years now) we decided to brave Skeleton Gorge, from Kirstenbosch, and make our way along the top of Table Mountain to the Cable Car.

Despite having lived in Cape Town for most of my life, and having spent a lot of time on the mountain, that particular stretch was not something I’d ever done, and I was very keen to give it a try.

So, unfit though we both were, we slowly made our way to the top – cameras, cellphones, water and food supplies in hand.

It was a tough climb, but we got there eventually, and at the top of the gorge, whilst catching our breath, we bumped into an unusual party: three or four hikers, accompanied by three officials (park rangers?), all looking rather solemn and determined.

The hikers, it turned out, had just been mugged at knifepoint by three guys, who’d run off with their cameras, cellphones – the works. The hikers had managed to contact the SanParks/TMNP rangers very quickly (must have met someone with a cellphone, or had one hidden somewhere) and together they were hunting down the muggers.

We hadn’t seen anyone going down Skeleton and another group coming from the reservoir side hadn’t seen them either, so it was determined that they must be nearby, or heading around the corner to Nursery Ravine (another route down to Kirstenbosch).

Thanking our lucky stars that we hadn’t encountered them going down Skeleton, we started (a bit nervously) walking along the trail towards Maclears Beacon, whilst the others searched in the bushes.

We hadn’t gone far at all when a loud angry cry erupted from the area they were combing and a lone mugger shot out of the bushes and up the mountain. He was as nimble as a goat, leaping up from rock to rock. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time, as we shouted across the distance, pointing to where he had gone (they couldn’t see him so easily from below).

The rangers scrambled up after him, but struggled to catch up. He disappeared up over the top of the mountain, and wasn’t seen again.

The good news was that the hikers did get their stuff back (I phoned the guys at Table Mountain National Park to say that we had photos of the mugger, and to find out what had happened) and that we didn’t get mugged.

But I had to wonder what might have happened had we been up there even a few minutes earlier… The mugging took place on the exact route we were headed for – between Skeleton and Maclears Beacon – and if something like that happens, there is very little that you can do, because resistance means you’re likely to get stabbed.

It’s bad enough not to be able to go walking on my own, but now even groups don’t seem to deter these guys!

For a depressing look at what’s going on on our mountain, check out these stories:

• ‘Couple fall prey to robbers in Kirstenbosch‘ – 24 January 2007
• ‘Kirstenbosch issues crime alert‘ – 22 January 2007
• ‘Tourist groups robbed on Table Mountain‘ – 16 December 2006
• ‘Kirstenbosch visitors targeted by thugs‘ – 21 November 2006
• ‘Muggers chased away by pensioner with stick‘ – 15 September 2006
• ‘Hikers mugged by man pretending to be student‘ – 12 May 2006
• ‘Men with knives mug hikers on Lion’s Head‘ – 31 March 2006

The authorities have been trying to get it right:

• ‘Mountain park beefs up security‘ – 14 November 2006
• ‘Security beef up ‘in the heart of the estate’‘ – 30 October 2006
• ‘Newlands Forest beefs up security‘ – 14 September 2006
• ‘Forty more guards to protect visitors‘ – 11 August 2006

But it just doesn’t seem to be working, does it? No wonder there’s a world alert on SA crime.

PS. Our photos of the mugger made the front page of the Argus – check it out!

Barring last weekend’s downpour, we’ve had some pretty good summer-like days in the Mother City.

I say ‘summer-like’ because, as all Capetonians know, summer isn’t really here until, well until it decides it wants to be.

It pretends to have arrived, roasting anyone in the City Bowl for days on end, lulling us into a false sense of security that makes us foolishly forget to take a warm top when we’re heading out in the morning.

Then in comes that icy breeze, direct from the Antarctic, freezing our exposed sandal-clad feet, making a mockery of our short-sleeved t-shirts, reminding us who’s boss, really.

On the Sunday of the weekend before last, the weather was spectacular, and I went on an epic solo voyage that included a visit to the Noordhoek Country Fair, swimming and whale-watching off Kommetjie Beach (man, oh man, but that water is cold), a stop-in at the Imhoff Farm (out of curiosity) and munching on calamari and chips at Kalk Bay Harbour.

True to form, though, last weekend winter was back: the heavens opened, the temperatures plummeted and my trip to the beach seemed a distant memory.

My take on it? Summer never really and truly arrives until February. Throughout December and January, it teases and taunts us. Hot one day, frigid the next, that darned south-easter blowing almost all the time.

The trick is to make the most of the good days, find a leeward spot for the wind-blown days (or wake up real early, before the wind gets going), and accept that the Mother City will always keep us guessing.

But I guess you probably knew that already!