Tis the Season to Strike

First it was the garbage men. Then it was the postal workers. Then it was the bus drivers and other municipal workers. Then it was Telkom. Then it was the postal workers again (and as far as I know they're still on strike).

Yesterday, though, the army tried to go on strike. 3,000 soldiers, to be precise. They marched to the Union Buildings, where the police were waiting for them (because you can't go on strike if you're in the army - not even in Africa). It eventually turned a bit ugly, with the police firing on the army and the army waving pangas, knobkerries, and throwing Molotov cocktails at the police. 25 government vehicles were damaged, and the city was effectively left unprotected while everyone converged on the Union Buildings. All because the army wanted a 30% pay raise.

I am learning to take all these strikes in stride. I suppose I'm on the "control-freak" end of the spectrum, but in the past two years I have developed an emerging skill: flexibility! I am learning that when I wake up each morning, my day might not go as planned. And that's okay!

(The only thing that bothers me is that I mailed a birthday present to my mom a few weeks ago, and I have this sinking feeling it hasn't even left the post office yet. Today is her birthday, so... Happy Birthday, Mom! Sorry about the present; I'm sure it will arrive eventually.)