Life is not the same as it was in my youth, I can tell you. In those days we were convinced that women had little black stars on their chests as I call a woman’s bosom, also known as “assets” in polite terms. Surely with the censors working overtime and making their kids, like all good Nationalists, in the dark and the missionary position only, approved by the church, I am sure, we grew up with rather odd ideas on life. But one thing we did have was respect and that I see respect sadly lacking these days and not only among the youth who often surprise me with a polite “more oom” (morning sir) when I bump into them. Well, I am 49 years old in a few months, divorced and a widower and have gone around the block, my graying hair testifies to this, I deserve to be called like that.
But I have to wonder why there is a need to show us endless pictures and articles on the passing of Celine Dion’s husband and brother. Really, I speak of experience, when in such a situation, and you will be one day, you would want to suffer alone and in silence without the entire world gazing on what you wear, what you say or how much you wipe the tears away even if a super star. Yes, there is life after death. I believe so and in my forensic legal work I often joke that I can prove this: “Did Jan van Riebeeck not come back as coffee?” Yep, a silly South African joke which foreigners will not get. But the fact remains, when faced with death of a loved one, and you will be, you have to decide where you stand with God, the law, yourself and why life is this hard. There is no way that it will not affect you unless you suffer from serious psychological issues.
I feel sorry for Miss Dion after others like her. I know how she feels and I have no advice really, you turn to God and you carry on and with time you hear the birds again singing outside your window. And you do realise that life is so precious, even on earth where no one wants to stay longer than needs be. It is sudden you know, one day you are quite happy and then she is ill and she gets worse and worse no matter how much you pray, or your child goes on a camp and word comes back, she fell and is dying, or your dad, always so strong and there, now becomes a helpless wreck on a hospital bed. Yes, your life can change overnight and after death, when the funeral is done, and you are alone with your thoughts, shattered, you are faced with every shyster known to mankind. They want to sell you a tombstone, they want to invest your inheritance and then you have the gigolos wanting to move in because you have “needs” which he can fulfill and nothing else, it is just money for this fellow and he usually has none of his own. Yes, it happens, read my books on this, they are on the internet free of charge. I am talking, again, of experience. When I became a widower on Facebook, suddenly I had half naked women 20-25 years my junior wanting to be friends! Really? I have a news flash, the man who is turned on by your protruding chest is close to a Neanderthal and not really a good husband. At some stage he notices another chest and you will sit with the kids at home writing bitter notes on “Let us click or whatever” on the loyalty of man. My late wife was super smart, even her few enemies would tell you that, I fell in love with her brain but that is me. I may be the odd one but I doubt it, many friends agree with me on this subject, we like smart women. We actually want to talk about everything and nothing and enjoy your company, explore your soul and admire your body (staring like a hyena in heat as one of my characters puts it, admiringly so, I would say).
It is entirely sad that sex is used to sell books, movies and what have you (cars, buildings, cell phones, investments, everything). I read this morning of “bikini barista servers” which turns out to be American for half naked women making coffee at over inflated prices. And sales doubled which is ironic in a deeply flawed philosophical way. Oh, I know about the place called “Hooters” or something too because I watched an episode of “Undercover Boss,” yep, you will never find me in one, ever, it is embarrassing. A while ago, I was approached by a fellow stating he is a Hollywood script writer and he believes my fiction books can be turned into a movie. Well, he is right, they can, they are that good even if they feature South Africans and do not rate anyone else highly in this theater. When I wrote the books, I asked myself, what do I want in books like this and I wrote them like that with, of course, the codes for my late wife to chuckle about. Unfortunately, according to this fellow, the books do not have enough sex in them. Well, he is right, they have no sex in them whatsoever. The closest was in book 1, “That night we finally became one” and if you are too stupid to figure that out, don’t read my books. In the Police Books, under my own name, I often mentioned going blind being unmarried and unwanted, no doubt. Anyone who knows about the Roman Catholic Church would get my joke but alas, many did not. My point is this, certain things, like your love life, your assets if from the improved specie and your grieving at the side of the grave, do not belong on the internet or newspapers. Where has the respect and worse, self-respect gone to? Let us get it together and re-evaluate our values in life.
Koos Kotze is a former member of the South African Police Force. He served between 1985 and 1991 primarily as a sergeant in the Pretoria Flying Squad. During his police years, he was awarded the South African Police Medal for Combating Terrorism twice besides lesser awards. After leaving the Police Force he obtained the law degrees B Iuris & LLB at the University of the Free State (Bloemfontein, South Africa) and was a commercial law attorney for eight years. These days he is the owner of JKLS Africa and Associates, a specialist legal consultancy which specializes in reducing legal risk in sub Saharan Africa. He wrote several books on business, law, counter-terrorism and security issues. At times he is asked to participate on the Voice of America regarding legal forensic matters.