Missive from parts of Africa

A light hearted and sometimes serious look at moving 6000km into a place in Africa: April 2007. Promoted back to South Africa, the missive will continue to track my foray's into deepest Africa as and when I get there.

Name:
Location: Joburg, Africa, South Africa

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Weekends of fun in the sun - with some work thrown in to make it legit!

January sees everyone coming back to start a new year. January also heralds the much feted Think Tank. Those of you, who have read my blog for a while now, know the think tank gets all my managers and supervisors together to see what happened over the last quarter and target the next quarter. Couple this with the new people I have, it also cements their positions within the team.

It is also a good excuse to have a piss up together!

Mia Mie was the venue for this years Tank and I maintain the place is wonderful. Wilderness, wonderful bay, nice beach, good accommodation and above all electricity and hot running water.

There was also a boat and part of the team went fishing on Saturday afternoon. Part of the team went fishing on Sunday Morning. I was the Sunday morning lad. We chugged around the bays, trawling lines with weird plastic lures behind us. We avoided the local fishermen in their boats trolling nets. We also avoided the fish.

Except for a nice Mackerel that committed suicide on the bright piece of plastic.

“I cannot take it any more! There is that stupid wannabe Fish pulled behind the noisy thing.

Good Bye cruel sea!!”


The fish was donated to Okkie, who out of all of us cooks the best fish.

Generally a successful weekend. Miles too much to drink and smoke and eating good food.

The height of colonialism. Bringing your chef to the Think Tank weekend so he can cook good food.

He cooked good food!

Ozzie sweated the whole way through the Saturday Morning session. (hangovers are a bitch!) Marco got afflicted by the dreaded tummy bug on the Sunday and our intrepid fisherman Harry caught nothing.

We did manage to spear a cat fish in the bay. I call it cat fish – it is kinda like a squid. If I recall correctly when I was young, my Uncle used to hang the bugger behind the farm kitchen door for a while and eventually get Raju the Cook to make a bloody nice curry.

I am not too sure if I wanted a cat fish hanging behind my door, and I must admit there had to be some preparation work to stop the fish from smelling like an old woman on roids after a few days of Natal heat. I missed out on that part.

The speared fish was donated to the local inhabitants.


Got back to a day of meetings. Finally collapsed into bed at 8:30 last night.

Oh the wicked life I lead!!

Hope you are all smiling!

2 Comments:

Blogger Esther said...

*chuckle* you went fishing? Interesting concept

11:00 PM  
Blogger Angie said...

ok, coming from a place like Cyprus, what needs to be done with the catfish (squid etc) is that you really need to smack the hell out of it, i.e. you smash it against the rocks so that you soften the membranes and then you make a nice curry, stew with wine etc. Once that is done, you don't actually need to "hang it". Glad you got a little bit of fun in as well as fishing!!!

7:57 AM  

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