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Nick and I have a tradition:  whenever we travel somewhere interesting and unfamiliar, we take photos out of the car window as we drive… and call this our “Drive-by Shootings”.  Later, we look back on the photos and drink it all in.  We have hundreds of drive-by photos… from Cuba, Haiti, Nigeria, Zambia, Kenya, Mozambique and more…  and I can’t bring myself to delete…

Read more… 184 more words

My recent post on the OTHER blog.... :-)

Recently, a friend of mine recommended a book to read on practical ways to deal with adult ADD (which I am utterly convinced that I have!).  The book was written by a doctor (who also happens to have ADD) – and I liked it because it was different.  It didn’t go into all the technicalities of what ADD is – and all the blurb and hype surrounding the condition… it simply assumed that if you were reading the book, you were either ADD or close to someone with ADD – and thus offered a whole bunch of practical ideas to manage your daily life.

Now… you may (or may not) have noticed my very SPORADIC posts on this blog!  This is for a number of reasons… firstly – I have (as usual) spread myself too thin (as usual) by trying to do too many things at once (as usual) because so many different things interest and excite me (as usual).

The blog you’re reading now is but ONE of my blogs.  I also try to (at least fairly regularly) update this blog… and this blog.  I’ve given up on this blog.

I also have Facebook pages!  My personal Facebook page…  my Facebook page for WOODO… my Facebook page for Beautiful Life Project… my Facebook page for VENT!… and my Facebook page for Tapestry of Dreams!

I have managed to delegate the WOODO page to Jo… and the Tapestry of Dreams page to Roz (which helps).

I also have a Twitter account!

I also have newsletters!!  I send out newsletters via Mailchimp to everyone interested in WOODO (Women who DO!) or in Beautiful Life Project!  Crickey!

And all of this is just my SOCIAL MEDIA… it’s not even my Real Life!  In my Real Life… I also have 2 small children and a husband… and a home (which we want to fix up and sell)… and adventures on the horizon… and my various projects… and a book… and my artwork… and my stories…. and my music… and, and, and….

Aaaak!

So.  That long winded explanation was just to justify my sporadic posts on this blog.  I have not fallen off the face of the planet… I’m merely trying to get a grip.

And now I’ve forgotten about what I originally wanted to write in this blog!  *sigh*  Oh yes! – adult ADD and how that book has been helping me sort my brain out (or, at least, to some degree).

Trouble is… there’s some quotes I wanted to share with you in that book… but the book is on the Kindle app… which is on the iPad… which is flat-flat-flat… and I don’t know where the power supply is.  And I’m currently too lazy (and cold) to remove myself from my warm duvet… on this comfy couch… next to the heater…. to hunt down the power supply and charge the iPad.

So the ADD thoughts that I had – shall have to wait… until my attention is sufficiently focussed enough to continue!

Sorry ’bout that – and chat soon!  X

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I have visited my fair share of “3rd world” countries over the years – and without hesitation, I can say that I have learned more from the “poor” about grace, humility and generosity than I have from the “rich”.  My experience in Mozambique (a year and a half ago) was no different.  I was there on a trip with Could You?

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I have started a new blog called "Living Differently"... here's one of the more recent posts. :-)

My sister is a Life Coach.  This occasionally comes in handy… and especially when I’m trying to spring clean the clutter in my head.  She has a way of asking me unnerving questions, and twisting my words around (in a good way) to force me to look at my (many) issues from new angles.

Two nights ago, we shared a chimichanga and a cappuccino in my lounge… and I spilled my guts about how I was undergoing an identity crisis of late (may also have something to do with me turning 40 this year… and other recent events).

Anyway – this blog you’re reading used to be called “Adventures of a Creative Social Entrepreneur”…  but, after this and this – I’ve kinda figured that I’m NOT an “entrepreneur” (here’s why)… which surely means that I can’t be a Social Entrepreneur either… can I?

So… what am I?  What do I do?  What do I want to do?

Well, for a start…

• I’m an artist / illustrator / designer
• I’m a musician / singer / songwriter
• I’m a photographer & aspiring filmmaker
• I’m a writer / blogger / storyteller
• I’m a speaker / presenter / performer
• And… I am an IDEAS person / visionary / out-of-the-box-thinker

Problem is – I’m not brilliantly awesome at any of the above!  I’m not the world’s best artist – my cousin’s girlfriend paints stuff I couldn’t even imagine painting.  I’m not the most fabulous singer or musician…  I can sing fairly well but not magnificently… I can hold my own behind the piano – but nobody is going to hire me as a professional musician (and besides, everything is ‘by ear’ – I can’t read a note of music!).  I can get-by with my writing and blogging – but I am definitely not a Writer’s Writer…. and so on.

So, even though I am – by definition, a Creative Creature, and I’m able to do lots of different things… I don’t think that I am particularly, amazingly STRONG in any of those creative disciplines.

So, my sister’s next question focussed on my passions.  What am I passionate about?

• Well, for one, I’m a feminist.  I believe strongly in equal rights and opportunities for women and girls the world over.  Anyone who is ignorant enough to believe that women have already attained equality needs to read the United Nations Millennium Goals – and this amazing book!  More on this at the Beautiful Life Project blog here.
• Another one of my passions is Storytelling.  Omigosh! – I am a huge believer in sharing stories (here’s why)… but personally, I also get a big, fat kick out of sharing my stories too  - hence this blog already has more than a few of my own personal stories.
• I am passionate about experiences…  experiences change us, challenge us, grow us and make us into the people we are.  That’s why I’m such a huge fan of travel and adventure!
• I’m passionate about the arts – although that should already be very obvious by now…
• I’m very passionate by encouraging people to dream (here’s why)… and it’s also a big reason as to why I launched VENT! and co-founded Tapestry of Dreams.

But also – let’s not forget that my deepest passion is, of course, my family:  my husband Nick and my two children, Morgan and Joah.  Wherever they are – well, that’s “home” for me.  It is hugely – HUGELY important (for me) to create a life full of beautiful, meaningful moments, memories and experiences with my family and friends.

These experiences don’t need to be HUGE and wow-some!  They don’t even need to be expensive.  Sure, I love travel, adventure and holiday’ing with my family – but that’s not what defines a beautiful moment.  Beautiful moments can be something as simple as the four of us snuggled up under a big blanket in front of a our log fire in Winter time.  Or… the kids playing in a big, self-made mud pool in our back garden… creating a variety of mud pies… while Nick and I swing on our hammock nearby, sipping something cool and discussing our dreams.

I don’t want my work / duties / responsibilities to rob me of that which, for me, is the most important – and that which makes me come alive.

And isn’t that exactly what happens in life?  There’s SO much To DO!  We have soooo many responsibilities, duties, errands, administration… our lives are choc-full of things we “must do” and “ought to do…”  and things we “really should do…” – but at what cost?  What cost to ourselves?  What cost to our families?  What cost to our dreams?

I dunno.  I want to live differently.  Nick does too.

And living differently is going to mean a whole bunch of things.  If we are to re-define what it means to LIVE… then there’s a lot of things that will need to be re-defined.  Everything from how we live… where we live… how we educate our kids… how we eat… what kind of work we involve ourselves in…  all of this will need to be re-thunk.

There’s still loads to write on this particular topic – and this blog is already a bit long… so I will just leave you with some food-for-thought:

We went with our good friends, Rogan and Tracey – and their two children, Matt and Erin (who are similar in age to Morgan and Joah).

This is what I loved most about Lake St. Bernard:

• It is breathtakingly exquisite!  Mountains… meadows… and a crystal clear lake!
• It is very remote – the nearest shop is an hour’s drive away, so we needed to pack carefully and make sure we had all the food we needed.
• There’s no people!  Lake St. Bernard only has 3 guest cottages – and there’s wide spaces between them… we didn’t hear or see our neighbours for the duration of our stay.  We didn’t even see the owners / managers!  We were simply told to stay at Cottage 3 – and the owners had left the door open with the keys on the table (and a big pile of  chopped firewood outside).
• No noise… no traffic… no cell phones… no barking dogs…  nothing but the sound of nature:  water gently lapping, birds calling to each-other and, at night, a chorus of frogs.

Here are some pictures of the setting….

If you take all the photos above… and mentally stitch them together side-by-side in your mind, you’ll have an idea of the vista that greeted us from our cottage stoep.

PARALYSIS OF ANALYSIS…

I have been going through a bit of a confused what-must-I-do-with-my-life phase of late.  I have spread myself way too thin – over too many projects and ideas… and trying to figure it all out has been exhausting and paralysing me.  When I don’t have a clear goal in my mind about where I’m going and what I’m doing – I tend to run in circles in get myself all frothed up and…. yes… depressed.

I was hoping that the trip to Lake St. Bernard and the wise counsel of my friends would help me clear my mind somewhat.  But, instead (and Tracey will not like to hear this)… I spent much of the trip comparing myself to her and finding myself sorely lacking.

Rogan and Tracey... on a family walk...

When I think of Tracey – one word immediately pops into my mind:  ”serene”.  She seems so unaffected by life and it’s craziness.  Now, because I know Tracey – I fully realise that she – like the rest of us – is certainly not unaffected by life’s crap – but she seems to have mastered the art of grace.  Everything from the way she holds herself, to the calm way that she talks, to the calm way that she handles chaos… looks like it comes so easily and naturally to her… sheesh!  I think she’s amazing!

And I couldn’t help comparing myself.  Comparing our bodies.  Comparing the way we handle things.  Comparing our parenting methods – even comparing the way she cooks and prepares healthy food (she’s a vegetarian) to my way of “Ag, I’ll just warm up piece of wors in the microwave and give that to the kids.  They can wash it down with an Easter Egg”…. all followed by a woeful:  ”Omigod!  What does Nick even see in me?”

Truth be told, in a personal sense, I had a pretty-crappy-low-self-esteem weekend right in the midst of all that beautiful scenery – and it had nothing to do with lovely Tracey and everything to do with me.  I had this unshakeable feeling that I was failing.  Failing as a mother.  And more than ever – failing as a wife.  I know that we women tend to do this to ourselves… and that we often, often struggle with the I-Suck-Syndrome, but for whatever reason – I couldn’t shake it.

BUT THERE WAS THIS ONE MOMENT….

On our last day at Lake St. Bernard, Nick and I decided to take the kids for a drive and to explore a bit of the area.  Rogan and Tracey had decided upon a walk and went their own separate way with their kids.  For the first time – in a long time – I had Nick and the kids to myself.  No work.  No school.  No daily-life-chaos.  No lists of stuff to do. No deadlines. No interruptions.  No staff.  No phones ringing.  No e-mails.  Just the four of us… alone… surrounded by breathtaking beauty.

Nick wanted to drive to the top of one of the nearby mountains.  We had seen the glint of a vehicle, way up there, the day before and  there seemed to be a small, windy  dirt road that reached just the spot – and we were more than ready for a little adventure.

Our Renault Modus, however, was not!

After just a couple of metres on that rocky track – we realised that in order to get where we REALLY wanted to go (up the mountain) – we needed a completely different vehicle.  The little Modus (although easy to manoeuvre and light on fuel) was not equipped to take us on family adventures.  It got stuck on a small boulder, after only minutes of Nick attempting to drive up the track. And, as much as we tried to… and desperately wanted to drive up the mountain and go on an adventure – the Modus was having none of it.

It seems to me that the Modus is an apt metaphor for my life at the moment.  Maybe even Nick’s life too.  Perhaps it’s time for us to make a change from the Modus.  Perhaps we need to upgrade to a Family Adventure Vehicle… something bigger… that can easily fit children, camera equipment and other adventure stuff and carry us to the places we REALLY want to go…

Since the mountain adventure was impossible with the Modus, we ended up taking a scenic drive down more manageable dirt roads.  There was nobody else around.  We didn’t even pass another car.

Eventually, we discovered a picturesque little stream which ran underneath the road.  We parked the car under an enormous tree which spread it’s boughs over the stream and much of the road.  Joah was asleep in his car seat – but Morgan was wide awake and ready to explore.  Nick took her by the hand and they climbed down the embankment and played together in the cool, shallow waters, Morgan giggling with glee… Nick looking (for the first time in many months)… relaxed and content.  I opened the doors of the car so that Joah could enjoy the fresh mountain breeze, even as he slept… and I perched myself on a rock nearby the car, which overlooked the stream, the meadows and the mountains beyond.

And it was one of those defining, beautiful moments of life.

“I want to live like this”, I thought.  ”More than anything – this is what I want”.

It was one of those thoughts which made so much sense – that it immediately brought tears to my eyes.  ”This is what I want for my family”…

I closed my eyes… took a deep breath… and allowed myself to dream, if only for a while….

Sonja Fahn was my best friend in primary school.  We met in 1981, when we both attended Putfontein Primary (or Putties for short).

Sonja was shorter than me and slightly built.  She had shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair which was usually scooped to the side in a side-path that was very un-cool for the eighties.  Her pale skin was dusted with freckles and she had a wide, naughty grin.  Like me, she was creative and loved to draw.  Also like me, she was a tomboy who was far happier getting up to mischief outdoors than playing indoors and behaving.

Sonja had a younger sister called Erika (nicknamed Skilpad or Skilly for short).  Skilly was the same age as my sister, Suzanne, and so – they too became natural friends.

The Fahn sisters lived a couple of roads down from The Plot in a squat old farmhouse with huge rooms, creaky wooden floors and a piano in the passageway (which boasted real ivory keys).  I was terrified of their mother, Aunty Betsy who clearly believed in the Biblical proverb that if you spared the rod, you spoiled the child.  She kept an ominous wooden paddle for this purpose, which took pride of place, hanging in a special spot on her gloss-painted kitchen wall.  Printed neatly across the paddle were the words:  ”The Persuader”.

Aunty Betsy never used The Persuader on me, but witnessing her using it on Sonja was more than enough incentive for me to be on my very best behaviour whenever Aunty Betsy was in the vicinity.

A GREAT IDEA

One afternoon, when I was ten years old and visiting Sonja’s home… we both happened upon a genius idea.  We had always wanted our very own foefie-slide (zip line) – and since our parents didn’t seem overeager to accommodate our request, we decided that we would build our own (on the sly, of course).

As it happened, Aunty Betsy and Skilly were out for the afternoon – so Sonja and I had time and space to build our foefie-slide without any interference.

The first thing we did was look for rope.  The weird thing about farm-life is that there always is “stuff” to be discovered when you need it.  We had access to tool-sheds, horse stables, garages, farming equipment, you name it!  After a fair amount of rummaging amongst old paint tins and mouldy mattresses – we found just just what we were looking for – a long coil of strong white & blue rope!  Yay!

Now came the challenge – we needed to tie it somewhere very high in order to make our foefie-slide as long and fun as possible.  The roof of the house was high, but not nearly high enough.  The windmill was high too, but difficult to climb.  We settled on the big Oak tree.

The Fahn’s had an enormous old oak which towered above their house and provided shade for much of the back yard.  Sonja and I loved climbing that tree.  It’s branches were thick and strong and with a bit of effort, we could climb really high… high enough to get a great view of the surrounding farmlands.  High enough for a foefie-slide?  Certainly!

And so, we carefully climbed the old Oak, as high as we possibly could, and tied the one end of the rope around it’s strongest branch.

Back at the bottom of the tree, we stood with the other end of the rope and wondered where we should secure it.  Clearly it needed to be tied to something strong and low – a distance away from the Oak.  We settled on a tap… attached to the wall of one of the garages.  We figured that we’d be low enough to quickly jump off the side (before we slammed ourselves into the garage wall).

With much puffing, panting and pulling… we secured the other end of the rope to the tap and made it as taut as we could manage.  And, as a final touch, we carefully positioned one of the mouldy mattresses at the estimated landing spot.

It was ready!

But how would we hang on?  Our foefie-slide wasn’t a sophisticated one with a cable or a pulley or a special handle.  How would we slide down the rope?

We quickly came up with a solution:  a dishcloth!  We would simply drape a dishcloth over the rope, grip each side and voila!

WHO GOES FIRST?

We were giddy with excitement – tinged with nervousness.  Who would be the first to attempt our new slide?  Which one of us would be brave enough to take the first jump?

As it turned out, it was not me.  Sonja volunteered to go first.

I stood by the tap and watched her slowly ascend the tree, red-checked dishcloth tucked into the back of her shorts.  When she reached the top, she carefully flicked the dishcloth over the rope, grabbed both sides… and then, she hesitated… suddenly feeling very uncomfortable about the prospect of launching herself off the top of the Oak with only a checked dishcloth for security.

“Do it!” I shouted eagerly from below

“I don’t know if I should… it’s very high…”

“It will be fine!  Hurry up and do it!  I also want my turn!”

Sonja hesitated for another second – but then made the decision, and jumped…

For a moment, she just hung there… high, high off the ground.  It seemed as though her weight on the cloth was too heavy and our rope wasn’t steep enough – but, just as I started to panic, Sonja began to move… and then gather speed.  I whooped with glee!  Our foefie-slide was working!  I couldn’t wait for my turn!

And then, suddenly, everything happened very quickly…

There was a knot in the rope… a knot I hadn’t even noticed until I saw Sonja and the and the rapidly accelerating dishcloth approaching it.  By the time Sonja reached the knot, she had gathered a considerable amount of momentum – but, as soon as the cloth connected with the knot – it had the exact same effect as when you slam on brakes in a car – and your whole body is thrown forward.  The unexpected “brakes” threw Sonja forward like a limp rag doll – and her left hand lost it’s grip on the dishcloth.

I watched with horror as my best friend plummeted to the ground and landed with a sickening thud on the hard, clay driveway.  She was, of course, nowhere near the safety  mattress.  As she landed, a small cloud of red dust enveloped her… and the domestic worker, who had been warily watching our activities from the kitchen window, came bursting out the kitchen door, arms flailing – making a high-pitched wailing sound…

Sonja had fallen the height of the farmhouse roof – maybe slightly higher… and she lay on her back, completely still, for a few moments as the red dust settled around her.

“I have killed my best friend”, I remember solemly thinking.

But (thankfully!) Sonja wasn’t dead… and, as I approached her, I noticed that her chest was heaving and her eyes were wide open, staring upwards.

“Son?”  I asked quietly, “Are you okay?”

Sonja let out a moan… and tears began to trickle from the corner of her eyes.

“Owwww” she said.

I had no idea what to do.  Should I help her up?  What if she had broken… like… her back or her neck?  I had read somewhere that you weren’t supposed to move patients in such instances.  I didn’t know if I should call an ambulance… or call my mother… or call the neighbour.  The domestic worker looked just as panicked and uncertain.  Perhaps she had the additional worry of what would happen should Aunty Betsy find out that she had idly watched our dangerous game from the kitchen window and had done nothing to stop us.

“What should I do?”, I asked Sonja, “Should I call somebody?”

Without replying, Sonja slowly, painfully, started to stand up.  The domestic worker was quickly at her side, helping her.  I, on the other hand, stood rooted to the spot – filled with both guilt and relief.  Guilt that I had allowed Sonja to go first and had encouraged her to jump…. and relief that I wasn’t the one who had fallen from such a height… and a huge sense of relief that my friend was, in fact, alive.

Slowly, gingerly, Sonja managed to stand – and with a fair amount of grimacing, she limped back to the house, helped along carefully by the domestic worker, who also brought her a strong cup of tea with lots of added sugar.

Aunty Betsy would never know of the incident.  There was an unspoken pact between the three of us that the day’s events would not be mentioned.  The rope was removed from the tree.  The mattress returned to the storeroom.  The dishcloth returned to the kitchen.  And Sonja attended to her wounds.  Miraculously, she had not broken any bones – but she had some impressive bruises to show me a few days later… and soon, we were laughing about our little misadventure.

A BIRTHDAY SURPRISE

Only a couple of weeks later, Sonja arrived at school with a very exciting announcement.  Her Dad had decided to build a proper foefie-slide for his girls.  He had mentioned that after all the years of foefie-slide nagging, he had finally decided to build one.  Suzanne and I were invited to the house to try it out.

When I arrived at Sonja’s house, I was amazed at what Mr Fahn had constructed.  A PROPER foefie-slide… complete with long, taut cable… a jumping platform… a ladder to the jumping platform… a proper handle with pulley – and even a safety rope that would catch anyone who lost their grip…

And where had he chosen to anchor this impressive apparatus?  Why – from the top of the old Oak tree, of course!

I’m due to turn forty in November.  Forty.  Even the sound of the word… forty... conjures up images of tired, middle-aged women.  Like my mother…  when she was forty: Very tired, very middle-aged and very unhappy.

Years later, she told me how she had lost herself during those miserable “middle-aged” years.  “I had become someone-else’s-mother and someone-else’s-wife”, she told me, “and I had pushed aside everything that made me… me”.

Although Mom has since transformed her entire life, and now, at the age of sixty-something, is finally free, happy and doing what she loves…  I can’t help but imagine what could have been – if she didn’t spend twenty-odd years of her life, floating around in a pointless fog of dutiful-nothingness.  And I wonder what could have been if she didn’t kill off all of her dreams in her thirties and forties out of a misplaced sense of duty towards her husband and her children.

Killing her dreams wasn’t healthy for her – and it wasn’t healthy for us either.  We reaped her sadness during those years.  As much of an attentive and loving mother she was, she could never hide that deep sadness from us.  Suzanne and I always knew that she wasn’t happy – even though she made a point of never crying or moping in our presence.  Even though she loved us dearly and was always in “Good Mother” mode.

And, possibly because of how my mother’s life has affected me, I have an almost irrational fear of becoming what she was at age forty:  someone-else’s-mother and someone-else’s-wife … and nothing else.

Many women fall in to that space.  Even as I sit typing this, I can easily think of so many women I know who’ve channelled all their energy into becoming “Good Mother”, “Good Wife”… or even “Good Daughter”, “Good Friend” or “Good Employee”… yet… neglected their own beautiful dreams in the process and have chopped off the parts of themselves that yearn for… more.

I don’t want that to be me.

I so desperately, desperately don’t want that to be me.

And my deepest fear is that I’ll become exactly that which I’ve been running from for most of my life.

I am the woman who yearns for MORE.  And although I’m intensely grateful for my life, my beautiful family and my many blessings…  I yearn for MORE.

More of LIFE… more of LOVE… more of my FAMILY… more of PASSION… more of the things that make me come alive!  More ADVENTURE… more TRAVEL… more RELEVANCE… more BEING THE CHANGE I wish to see in the world… more PEOPLE… more JOY….  more!

I want more.  I do.  I want it so much that my body aches for it… my spirit longs for it… my brain invents ideas and schemes of all the various possibilities… my heart is giddy with expectation…. I am desperate and sick with longing and yearning.

Yearning for more.

I’ve given up trying to explain VENT! to people.  I figure they really need to watch the doccie and then they will ‘get’ VENT!

Those of you who know me… know the following:

I do not have the capacity to “sell” this idea to the corporates and the people with access to funding.  I think it’s a great idea – but I cannot… cannot… cannot sell or promote stuff (especially not my stuff)…

I wish I could collaborate with somebody who is great at approaching people (read: corporations or funders)… and who can confidently share good ideas!  Where-oh-where are the people who are good at selling?

Where are the professional Fundraisers (who are not secret Amway agents)…?

How does one get a good project or idea “out there”… when one loathes the process of marketing-the-idea or *horror* pitching!??

VENT! Promo Pack...

PS:  If anyone is interested in watching the VENT! doccie online – here it is:

There, I said it.

I once vowed that never, ever again would I be conned (and the word is very definitely conned because Amway sales-people never, ever, ever say: “I would like to invite you to an Amway presentation” – they always, always always use a staggering array of  manipulation tactics to get you to attend).

The first time I was conned:  A relative whom I hadn’t seen in a long time visited completely out of the blue to discuss an “idea” with me.  Now, I like this relative – and I like ideas too.  However, it was not an idea… or even her idea… it was an Amway Presentation – complete with a slideshow of grinning white people with big hair, posing ostentatiously next to mansions, sports cars and speed boats.  Eww.

Amway presentations always begin with the “What’s your dream?” scenario, and the  assumption that everybody superficially dreams of garish mansions, Gucci bags and red ferraris.

After much persuasion – and much explaining on how I too, could live-the-dream by signing up to Amway (meaning that I then have the privilege of buying soap and shampoo from the Amway website instead of Pick ‘n Pay… AND… I can then start signing up – and effectively alienating – other colleagues, friends and family too!  And – of course – the more people you sign up, the more MONEY you can make – ka-ching!!!).

Somebody else’s pee’d-off blog here, pretty much sums it up.

Nevertheless – I turned it down.  My relative was very disappointed and our relationship was a bit strained after that.  (PS:  This happened 10 years ago – said relative is, thankfully, no longer on the Amway Bandwagon and our relationship has returned to normal).

The second time I was conned;  an old school friend contacted me out of the blue… and, without fail pretty much repeated the same scenario and talk that I had heard from my relative, two years before.  Again, I said no.  Again, the relationship became strained and weird because the friend was disappointed that I had turned her down. (PPS: This friend, too, is no longer Amway’ing).

After having chatted with other friends of mine who had been exposed to Amway, here’s what to look out for:

• Unexpected eager phone-calls from long-lost relatives or friends… who, out-of-the-blue suddenly want to visit you.
• This may be innocent enough, but if they casually mention “sharing an idea”, “starting a new business”, “joining a network of like-minded friends”, “an invitation to better your life”… then beware.  It’s probably Amway (or another similar pyramid scheme - oh,sorry!… my bad… multi-level marketing scheme!)
• If you invite them anyway and they haul out a flip-chart or laptop and begin by asking you what your dream is – you know you’ve been Amway’d!  Get ready for the Hard-Sell (and they’ve been on courses and listened to lots of CD’s and talks on how to hard-sell effectively)
• If you are polite (as I first was) and give ANY indication of interest, be prepared to be ‘followed up’ by means of many nagging phone calls.
• If you stand firm and say:  ”NO, I am definitely not interested and nothing you say or do will persuade me otherwise”… then brace yourself for the “I-am-very-disappointed-in-you” expression, followed by a strained friendship / relationship for months to come.

That’s the thing about these pyra… sorry… multi-level marketing schemes… by their very nature, they alienate friends, colleagues and relatives.  How do you trust a friend who is forever trying to sell you something?  Whenever they invite you out – you can’t help but suspect:  ”Oh geez, she’s going to try and shove that scheme down my throat again”.

ANYWAY…

So, after years of having a very active radar… which has been very acutely aware of friends, relatives or colleagues who want to sign-me-up to something (whether it’s Amway or anything that smacks remotely of certain triangular-shaped marketing schemes)…  I thought I had it waxed.  I thought I would never be caught out or conned by another Amway Salesperson again.

Wrong-O.

I mentioned my experience at Common Pitch Cape Town at the Design Indaba (on an earlier blog).  The whole point of the experience was to network, mingle, chat with investors, brainstorm ideas – that kind of thing…  and so, given the situation, we were constantly introduced to different people… and it was wonderful (I love chatting with like-minded people and brainstorming ideas).

As it turns out, at the end of the evening (after I had delivered my public pitch in Cape Town City Hall)… I walked out the back exit to find a very friendly face waiting for me.

“Hi there…. Heather?”  said friendly face.

“Yes!”, I replied (obviously she had been in the audience if she knew who I was).

“I absolutely loved your pitch and your idea!”, she said, smiling warmly.

“Thank-you!” I replied, feeling relieved that at least somebody liked it.

“My name is Elsabe”, she said, extending her hand, “…and I would really love to help you with fundraising”.

“Yay!” I thought, “A professional fundraiser!  There were a few of them about tonight, glad I am finally meeting one – I could do with a professional fundraiser, even if she takes a hefty commission”.

“Well, we could certainly do with the help of a fundraiser!” I said, “Can I have your card?”

“I don’t have any cards on me at the moment” said Elsabe, “I’m actually from Port Elizabeth, but I’m attending the Design Indaba and staying at a hotel close to the Cape Town Convention Centre – perhaps we could meet there for coffee?”

“Absolutely!” I said, mentally calculating the walking distance from our hotel to hers and then figuring it would be worth it.

I gave her my cell phone number, and we parted ways.

The following afternoon, Jo and I set off.  We walked from our hotel on Long Street to the City Lodge at the entrance to V&A Waterfront.  Elsabe said she would meet us in the hotel dining room at 4:30pm.  To be honest, there were other things I wanted to do on that day.  Our time in Cape Town was short, and I would have loved to spend more time with the other Social Entrepreneurs – but off we went, to meet our “Fundraiser”.

Jo and I arrived early, so we made ourselves comfortable and ordered coffee and cake.  About an hour later, and much to our surprise, we spotted another team from Common Pitch (the team from Chile).

“What are you guys doing here?” we laughed.

“We’re here to meet a Fundraiser” they replied.

“Elsabe?” we asked.

“Yes!  The blonde lady.  At 4:30!” said the Chilean team.

Just as we were trying to figure out what was going on – a third Common Pitch team arrived – the guys from Cafe Mal…. who – surprise-surprise, had also been told by Elsabe to meet her at 4:30.  All of us were, to say the least, very confused.

“What’s this all about?”  asked the Chileans.

“She said she wanted to help us with fundraising”, said the guys from Cafe Mal.

“Let’s just hear what she has to say” suggested Jo.

A few minutes later, Elsabe arrived in a flustered whirl of scarf, blonde hair and handbags.

“Sorry I’m a bit late”, she announced, smiling just as sugar-sweetly as before.

“I figured that I could do this all at once so that I don’t have to waste my time speaking to you all individually”.

With that, she whipped out a laptop and positioned it on the restaurant table.

“Can you all see the screen?” she asked sweetly.

And it was right then, that I knew.  I had been conned again.

Elsabe settled herself in and then began:  ”We are a network of professionals.  I am actually an architect, and my colleagues are doctors and nurses….”

Everyone listened politely.

“We all operate this business on the side of our professional work because it supplements our income… if I could just show you this presentation…

She fiddled with her laptop for a few seconds and then spun the screen around so we could all see… and sure enough – there it was in big blue letters:  “What is YOUR dream?” -(complete with pictures of mansions and island holidays)…

I wasn’t going to wait for her to finish the presentation – and I could already feel my anger-levels uncontrollably rising.

“Is this Amway?”  I asked straight out.

She hesitated, as if she hadn’t heard me.

“Is this Amway?”  I asked again – speaking carefully and trying not to shout.

“Yes!”, she brightened, “You’ve heard of us then?”.

“Fuck” I said (yes, I did say ‘fuck’, in front of all those nice people.  I was that angry)

“Have you had a bad experience in the past?” she asked, her voice seemingly dripping with more sugar with every sentence she spoke

I made a few odd, strangled noise and tossed my arms in the air out of frustration.  I wanted to scream.  Two days in Cape Town with international Social Entrepreneurs – and we were sitting in the City Lodge with somebody who had lured us there under false pretences, trying to sell us bloody Amway!

“Oh – I have definitely had bad Amway experiences – this being one of them!!” I said, readying myself for a rant.

“What’s Amway?” asked one of the Chileans.

“It’s a pyramid scheme!!!” chorused Jo and I together.

“Actually”… Elsabe said defensively, “it’s not a pyramid scheme.  Pyramid schemes are illegal in this country and it’s not a pyramid scheme….”

“It functions like a pyramid scheme” said Jo.

“Basically…”  I turned to the Chileans, “…she has brought us here to sell us Amway.  She is not a Fundraiser.  She wants to sign us all up to the Amway system.  It has nothing to do with fundraising”

“I thought you said you were going to help us with fundraising?” asked one of the Chileans, directly to Elsabe.

“But I AM helping you with fundraising”, Elsabe replied, dripping big globs of syrup from every word, “with this system and these products you can raise the money you need to support your ventures!”

“By doing what?”  I snapped, “Selling, selling, selling to unsuspecting friends, colleagues, relatives and complete strangers!  By manipulating people!  By giving presentations – like this one – to everyone who crosses our path!”

“Yes, but our figures prove that it works – and if you’ll just let me finish my presentation…”

“No thank you, we’d rather not” said the Chilean team, who abruptly stood up and left.

“You lied to us”, I said, looking her straight in the eye.

“I didn’t lie!” she snapped indignantly (less sugar this time)

“You omitted the truth, then.  You brought us here under false pretences.  We thought you were a professional fundraiser and you knew that.  If you had said “My name is Elsabe and I would like you to attend an Amway presentation”, we would NEVER have come – and you knew that too!”

I was furious.  I felt conned – and I hate feeling or being conned.

Jo and I stood up and started gathering our things.  Elsabe ignored us and turned her attention to the Cafe Mal team.  They, too, were miffed – but far more polite than me or the Chileans (who had just upped and left – good for them!).

We marched away without saying anything more to Elsabe.  The last we saw, she was still trying to sell Amway to the Cafe Mal team.

As we walked outside, with me muttering all manner of curse words to Jo – I just happened to look up, and what should be towering directly above us? – a huge sign which read:  AMWAY.  Yes, indeed – we were right next to Amway’s head office.

“It was all a con!”  I said, incredulously.  ”She’s not from Port Elizabeth, she’s not attending the Design Indaba, and she’s not staying at that hotel!  This is Amway selling territory!  They use the City Lodge as hunting ground!”

Nuff said.

This post has been a long-winded rant.  But I feel better now.  Nothing wrong with a good VENT!  :-)