The skies are crying
Most mornings my school run takes me down part of the Baden Powell Drive near Spier, and there’s a recent sight that has been catching my eye. At a little farm gate, two resourceful women have set up an umbrella and a trestle table, covered with a bright cloth – and it is adorned with pumpkins, beans, grapes and other produce they have grown.
They sit on their chairs, with their knitting in their bags to keep themselves busy, and smile and wave cheerfully to passersby. As the mornings are getting colder, there is often a low swathe of mist in the area, as they are adjacent to a wetland – and it is a heartwarming scene to see them as they generate an income for their families.
This past Monday, during a downpour, I wondered if they’d be there, and sure enough they were – and I stopped to say hello and take their picture.
It is, as I told my son, a wonderful case of entrepreneurship, demonstrating the kind of initiative that simply makes one want to stop and buy a pumpkin, even if you hadn’t particularly been of a mind to.
And face it, what’s better than a hearty vegetable soup this time of year, just when imminent winter’s chill is biting at our heels.
At my son’s school they had an entrepreneurs’ day last week, and he pulled the “pancakes” shift, and I believe a brisk trade was done. It is such an important part of how we educate our youth – instilling in them the awareness of opportunity, and encouraging lateral thinking and problem-solving. The world is full of curve balls, and one never knows when one will be required to quickly adapt to a series of unexpected challenges or setbacks.
Listening to broadcasts from all over the world about the mind-boggling implications of the ash cloud over Europe (and apparently now also heading over towards the Eastern shores of America), there is an interesting juxtaposition of utter disarray and also of order.
You can be sure there are many people who will seize the moment and come up with creative alternatives to offer hapless, stranded passengers (I believe there are some fantastically hefty taxi fares being generated by cross-continental travel).
What is very worrying, of course, is the massive economic impact of this un-precedented situation, of people and businesses who will be annihilated by the fall-out. African countries are also being very hard hit – Kenya, for example, relies on massive exports (like roses) to fuel its economy, and warehouses at airports are now crammed with flowers and fruit that will inevitably perish – and what a grim prospect for the farmers!
It was certainly a wake-up call, though, about the might of natural forces and the effect this can have on lives and industries, and it shall be a while before the numbers are crunched and we have any idea of the losses involved, especially for airlines. And, one wonders, where will all this ash eventually settle, once the eruption ceases? How, too, may it be affecting migratory patterns of birds, as it sinks lower under its own weight?
One thing is certain (in a decidedly uncertain world): we are being required, as a matter of local and global survival, to work together. Modern technology has now enabled communication spanning the globe that is almost incomprehensibly fast, especially to those who have observed developments over the past 25 years and can view it from a “before and after” perspective.
Ultimately it is to the advantage of all, if this is used to share information and resources, to provide early warning where possible in events such as these (and the tsunami comes to mind), and to reconnect loved ones who are dealing with the anxiety and stress of being stuck far from home.
Written by Carolyn Frost You are reading The skies are crying articles
