[For Doreen Benjamin] What was I doing? I was cleaning the microwave tray from excess milk. Why? Well, because the milk boiled over. But I wasn’t crying; no one was. At least they weren’t anymore. But let me explain; You see, this spilled milk was over two weeks in the making. It was yet another turn in a series of unfortunate events which led me to that moment of taking that simple step, with my sister casually looking on opening the little door to the microwave, peering in, and then throwing my head back to look to the heavens in a proverbial “OHHH Jesus Please… (take the wheel)” Which prompted my sister to abandoned me after her initial sharing in the groan of frustration. But why two weeks? The fact is that this spilled milk could be traced back and blamed solely on one thing, and one thing alone… Pneumonia. Mm hm. That foulness that collects on the lungs and that is of no benefit to the world or humankind whatsoever. This ‘P’ word is to blame for my moment of woe. But allow me to divulge a titbit of backstory. Had my Grandmother not contracted Pneumonia, I, or any of my other family members, would not have been at my Uncle’s flat to begin with to aid in the matriarch’s recovery, after she’d spent a tiresome long-weekend in hospital. Not a slight thing by any means; waking up and not knowing where you are with no one familiar around; this coming after a hazy and delirious few days, involving a backache inducing overnight vigil (by said Uncle) and a somewhat unconscious ride in an ambulance. So there I was, making a round of coffee for several of us. My uncle meanwhile, had stolen himself away from ironing some of his Sunday best shirts, and was now attempting to turn on the geyser. We wanted to give Granny a relaxing bath earlier, but my uncle’s attempt to reprogram the geyser’s timer had only succeeded in making it fail to come on at all. So there he stood, behind me in the kitchen, leaning precariously on a small wooden stool to reach the geyser’s control panel. Then he asks me, over his shoulder, to run inside and switch off the iron. And so I did. Low and behold the iron was there in the back room, huffing and puffing away like it was dying of thirst. And so, that jog to the room, unplugging the iron, and making the return journey had cost me a minute, and one could not pass by Gran’s room without checking in (costing me several more precious seconds). The consequences of which were evident at the opening of the microwave. SO, you see, had Pneumonia not struck down my Gran, she would not be recovering at my Uncle’s place, he would not have been stretching to reach the control panel (during a session of earnest ironing) and I would not have been there to make some cups of coffee that required milk at an above-than-ambient temperature… Hence, no milk would’ve spilled. As it is, or was, many prayers were said before the milk boiled over, and many since (from around the globe mind you). The old Lady (I shan’t reveal her age… ladies take issue with these sort of things) is on the mend, stubborn as always, craving ice cream and Ginger beer whilst smuggling sugar replacement sachets for her afternoon tea. Although it must be said she was preparing herself for her date with Jesus whilst curled up on a gurney a week prior (I would be too mind you), but she has not sung her last song just yet… and she does love to sing. Thanks to Jesus for taking the wheel, healing a loved old lady… a family can draw nearer. And so, Pneumonia and spilled milk aside, there are some deep positives to this tale: beauty that runs deeper than tired legs, battered lungs and a tray of medication . . . but runs through heart and mind and soul, witnessed in moments and memories - a soothing bath, combing of hair, or sharing a warm meal at a table a half a century old. An old lady fell And a family rallied around her, to share in this fragile and mysterious thing we cling onto, holding on so dearly, when its most flagrant. --- God Bless you all.
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The Knesset is wrong about the way they’re going about ‘preserving’ the Jewish state, demonizing all and sundry, etc etc. You, we, everyone already knows this. They’ve lost their humanity, disregarded many of the values preached about in the Bible – chief among them: “Love thy neighbour”. We needn't say anything more. So, I got to thinking, since this is the Israel we are saddled with, and for all intents and purposes, it’s not going anywhere (despite the wishes of Hezbollah, Hamas and many other Arabs). So, what are we to do about this…? Here then is an objective look at what is happening… and what the Bible tells us - and with that, we can also take stock of why the Bible is in fact relevant at all: Now, for a neutral reader, let's look at that – why use the Bible? Well, let’s approach this from a broader perspective and look at it as it stands… for instance, approximately 80% of the prophecies in the Bible have already been fulfilled, considering it was written by so many authors, and many predictions involve modern day occurrences (sometimes speaking of things which even they did not understand) and always in great detail, and since Israel herself has always been a central figure in the Bible, it seems logical. [there are of course those who do not believe in the Bible as a tool of historical fact, but that is a different debate altogether - objectively it has proven itself, thus far, as at least "80% accurate" in its predictions, with the other 20% still pending] It was predicted that the people of Israel would be scattered all over the world: “These are the people of the Lord, yet they have come out of HIS land” In modern times, this has already happened. Isaiah 66:8 “Who has heard such a thing? Who Prior to this Israel had never been a sovereign nation, since before Christ. Also, read Luke 21:24 Some history:
At the moment Israel is not the most loved state in the world – to put it lightly (they were never really) – and their influence on world events goes hand in hand with the controversies. I am not contesting that Israel are wrong for treating the Palestinians in the way that they have, but it is expected when looking at it in Bible context. If Israel were an organism, then this is the way it would go about neutralizing the threat to its existence. Even when nations pledge “peace” – which they have claimed to do (whether you see Israel as victim or perpetrator) – the Lord says there will be only destruction (1 Thess 5:2-3, Jer 8:11). When you look at the nation of Israel, their history and the nature of their existence; then their current actions are not surprising for they have been at war and under threat for so long. Additionally, when you consider that the Prime Minister is an ex Special Forces soldier and war veteran, on the same page with the head of Mossad (with similar qualifications), it all starts to make a little more sense. You see, there is wide sentiment that Mossad (the most effective killing machine in the world) is indeed out of control, much like the CIA, and exact their own agenda to manipulate the might of the US war machine, to their benefit. (*See the Trojan Operation which directly led to America invading Libya on false terrorism claims.) Knowing that they are the only (tiny) Jewish State in the Arab dominated Middle East, and that in 1967, in the Khartoum conference (5 surrounding Arab nations united) declared... “...no recognition of Israel, no negotiations with Israel and no peace with Israel.” So with the opposing side very clear, the lines drawn in the sand with a constant threat of war (the Yom Kippur war was a surprise attack), a country like Israel would push to stay prepared and be pre-emptive in their actions. Those actions have made many enemies, but they seem not to care for anyone’s opinion – this too was prophesied in the Bible - as Israel have always been pinned in a corner, forced constantly overcome great odds. In Zechariah the Lord foretold, “Behold, I am going to make Jerusalem a cup that causes reeling to all the people around; and when the siege is against Jerusalem, it will also be against Judah. [So, even as a plain book, the Bible continues to be relevant… just one of the many reasons it’s a bestseller.] To conclude: the actions of Israel and the situation we sit with today, in some way (human rights violations aside perhaps), is simply the way it was predestined to be… and in these times, if there is another not-so-deeper message to tack on (from those prophecies) is that it will be violent, and it will get ugly. I pray for strength and wisdom! Final thoughts, on Syria: Who stands to gain the most from a destabilized Syria? For Israel, any Arab nation not looking their way, is a good Arab nation. If there is any animosity toward Israel, be sure to target it at The Knesset – just like whenever I reference the US and their disagreeable actions, it’s imperative to focus on the Government. The people may have put them in power, but of course that power is abused. Sentiment will always be divided... God Bless! {Bible verses from The MacArthur Study Bible} Related Reading: An Objective look at Apartheid Israel, Part 2 Israel: An Objective look Part 3 - Tipping the 1st Domino Image from snorttumblr A short piece on drugs, hallucinations, hazy dreams, being swallowed by the barrel of a gun, and a man thinking he's a dragon. This story was not inspired by my life events, just so you know, though felt it is quite relevant to Cape Town right now (and much of the world for that matter. I grew up pretty insulated from the bad and the ugly, however there are those quite close to me who came in for more than just a bit of a scrape. Although I must add, the reoccurring dream - that's mine. The White Line Short fiction by Steven Benjamin The man: His stare wasn’t empty; instead it was filled with years and years of what was best left forgotten... Every red vein in the former milky whites of his eyes though, which over those years of abuse had turned a faded yellow, told of a more material ruin, like glazed windows that would never again reveal what lay in the shadows on the inside. His dried crusty lips quivered. His gaze fell down, catching sight of his own trembling hands. And then the deep familiar hurt welled up in his chest. His mind drifting to the thought of a woman he once knew – who once called herself his friend – and how she’d hung on in those final minutes. He wondered about that; what hanging on to life must feel like. From where he sat, it was all a little sad… a sad quiet; no more talking, no more pleading, because a life had been terminated, swept aside, and there was little fan fair, little commemoration. So anticlimactic... As if someone had asked him “… may I live?”, and he’d looked down and answered: “No.” But instead of that word, he’d used his hands. The stare, the coffee table and the R381, ‘Oh yes, that road…’ he remembered it all now – was it the right one? Just like the hurt brimming inside, so came that old guilty feeling, settling like foam. He knew; he saw and he knew what would make it all go away. It came to him like a dream; ‘oh yes, that dream’ he remembered that too now… it sometimes happens that way; you’re thinking of something else and then suddenly fumes of recollection of a different world wafts in… My Dream: It was about time running out, and of course, just running away… I suppose it’s always something like that, isn’t it? A gravel, dead stretch of road, somewhere in the Karoo, wait, no, there was grass, so it had to have been further north, closer to where the flowers grow and bloom in spring… or was it south, the R353 maybe, from Leeu Gamka. Only, this time there was no flowers, and it was in the dark, at night. Sometimes I’d pass by a windmill – just the silhouette mind you – funny that, since there was no moonlight. In some of them there’d be two lights heading directly toward me, growing brighter in the darkness. In those ones I’d always wake up just before the light engulfed me; just before impact. Mm, there were never any stars or moon in the sky… that’s how I knew I was dreaming, even in the clearest night sky: nothing, just blank, every single time. I knew what it was all about… The getaway: One of his greatest fears arising from the unseen depths within him, percolated to the surface every so often. This was all he was good at, and, it was the worst part of him. It was a way of getting in and getting away at the same time – his only escape. It committed those around him to believe they knew him, “his kind” – whatever that means. But the few he trusted believed it was a necessary evil. Once he’d even tried liberating himself with Muti – he didn’t believe in it mind you, but when you scrape bottom, you’ll be willing to try anything once, sometimes, just to get a leg up. When you’re down, you’re really down. Sometimes when your brain is on a ‘go slow’ it can convince you of the strangest things. He knew the lie he was living had matured over years and taken root within a hidden truth – one he kept very secret. A small confession he betrayed only to himself, and only in the darkest, lowest moments – the truth that he actually liked it. Was it really a revelation? No, it’s not like he was alone in this struggle. Be it lines, holes, rocks, pipes, money, smoke; everyone has their fix, governed only by the tick of the everyday clock. He looked down at his watch… the hands of time ticking away as always. Time. He was beginning to make sense of it again, slowly, the same issues, the same old habits. Time. He’d lost quite a lot of that. read more... A piece about time; the way we wear it, the sands of it over generations... but mostly this is just a quick look at sentiment, the past, and contributing to a tradition within a humble legacy. - By Steven Benjamin Two hands on my wrist, pointing to the past... Ever had that one something that sets you apart from all others? - A small detail about yourself that only you and a few loved ones know about. Something that’s practically inherent; and it can be anything – concealed or in plain sight. Perhaps you were born with different color eyes – a trait you share with your grandmother. Or maybe you have your great-granddad’s pocket knife, which was passed down through the generations to you. In my family I’m privileged to say we have a few things, but only one which comes to mind daily – something that ties me to my Dad, and his father – because I’m reminded of it whenever I perform the seemingly mundane task. It’s an unspoken tradition; one that could well have come about purely by accident, because by all accounts, all the men in my family have no idea who started it or why. What I speak of is the small idiosyncrasy shared by all the Benjamin men – we all wear our watches with the time-face on the inside of our wrists. This occurrence is rarer than you may think. I started doing it because that’s the way my father (God rest him) wore his. I then noticed the same thing with my uncle’s, which is when I learned that they had got it from their father and uncles (God rest them all, apart from my uncles of course). The origins nevertheless, remain unknown. Perhaps it’s too early to call it a family tradition since I wasn’t goaded into doing it – now though, wearing my watch the other way (the normal way) feels wrong and uncomfortable. I would feel proud though if I saw my future son (God will probably bless me with daughters once I’m eventually married) wearing his watch the same way… I suppose beyond my Granddad, my earlier ancestors probably wore those timepieces in specialized lapel pockets with the elegant hanging chain, as appose to the comparatively garish wrist watch. Either that or they were too poor to afford one. Anyway, traditions have to start somewhere, right? All in all, this bears no practical value or fashion sense, and has even proven to be problematic at certain times, especially when lifting things, but the sentimental significance far outweighs any would-be inconvenience. It’s a secretive tie to my family, something that distinguishes me as a proud Benjamin man and part of the humble legacy we forge and share. So, with no known origin (though it was most likely work related, to protect the watch - I have heard of many such incidences, even some military men favor it), the simple act exists, certainly in my mind, enhancing family ties. It’s an unspoken tradition, and a quiet link to my past, present and promising future. God Bless! --->>> *NOTE*: I will be away for the next week and a half, hiking the Fish River Canyon. So be blessed in my absence! And send a few prayers my way, I'll need it. Look out for my updates about the hike - if I survive that is... <<<--- |
[Banner illustration by Joel Kanar]
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