Nothing much happening here these days. Me, I am mostly just hanging around. Sometimes amongst these unsavoury characters that look as if they belong on a farm in a Herman Charles Bosman Groot Marico story. A sorry lot they are indeed. Not the class of company I want to be associated with. To tell the truth, they smell.
On Friday there was a bit of excitement when we set off to explore the unknown, if you can call it the unknown if it is virtually in your own backyard. Maybe it is the great unknown if you are spiritually disadvantaged like this moron. When I heard the whereabouts of our destination, my first thought was: Good lord, are we going to bend the knee in front of a foreign god! How exciting!
The great exploratory expedition was, of course, a visit to the Nan Hua Buddhist temple at Bronkhorstspruit. And a grand temple it is indeed, with concrete dragons and bells of brass, and of course Buddhas of gold. Splendid. I loved it. We took off our shoes, burned incense in front of the Big Man, bowed our heads in acknowledgement of a truly great spirit, and then had our names written in Chinese on a silk ribbon, which was then hung on a whishing tree by two very friendly and pretty little Chinese women. Pretty cool, I think.
And then of course, my moron wanted to take a picture of me on the head of a Buddhist monk. And by lack of a head on top of a Buddhist monk, I was placed on a substitute head, that of a Chinese gardener or something like that. An innocent bystander became the victim of my moron’s obsession with pictures of me sitting on strangers’ heads. The man was rudely summoned to pose with me in front of this ‘Chinese bell of happiness’. The bell was rung. The picture was taken and all were supposedly extremely happy.
Well, it made the Chinaman happy, it made my obsessive moron happy and in the end we were all so very happy I could puke!
As you can see, in the background ominous dark clouds were gathering. A warning of things to come?
All in all, it was a nice outing and I was looking forward to tell those tatty looking rags calling themselves hats back home about my great adventure, while my moron companion vowed that he would one day find a proper Buddhist monk with a proper Buddhist head to place me on so he can take pictures of me. Oh damn, happy days are awaiting us.
Why me Lord?
But then again, this is streets better than sitting on a shelve in dark and dusty shop window, in a godforsaken town somewhere in this at present, burning Country.