Don't be a pain in the whatsit: Rule #3 of 5

Southern Kalahari - early morning, as we were leaving to tackle the long trek to the softer south. Yes - it's the famous hoodia. The diet industry's holy grail - suppresses appetite - makes you lose weight. And you will never need it, because as a fruitarian you don't have weight issues anymore...

OK - Rule #3: DON'T JUDGE
The surest way to sabotage your own journey is to start judging someone else’s. None of us has even the remotest clue about the soul-stuff being worked out in another life. We barely glimpse the truth about our own.

So, when thinking about, shall we say, those people who pin all their hopes on the humble hoodia (the 60%+ obese Americans for example), let go of that superior smirk. Try for a bit of humility & compassion. This may be more difficult than you'd care to admit. So go practise on yourself. And you might just be surprised to find that this is hardest of all. Do it anyway.

Go stand in front of the mirror – look at yourself in the full awareness of the courage it’s taken to assume the grown-up charge of your own health. Claim that. Now look at yourself in the full awareness of your vulnerability & fragility, and (might as well admit it) stupidity. Claim that too. Now cultivate compassion for yourself. For the brave, flawed, fearful, precious, real person you know yourself to be. From now on you don’t do Blame anymore, or Pity, or Victim-consciousness. You don’t do Denial anymore, or Fantasy. You don’t Judge. You are deserving of your own compassion – so is everyone else.

As a footnote to yesterday: in the shop today - fresh organic dates. Refrigerated & overpackaged - but still, a muted little echo from my childhood.

Deserts & dates

Remember that panicked late-night drive down the Nossob ? (The Man) Here, in the shade of a shaggy old camelthorn tree: one of the things that made us late.

I know, it was going to be Rule #3 - but I'm just not in the mood. I've been re-reading Freya Stark's travel writings - you know 1920s-30s, traipsing all over the Middle-East & dining with the Bedouin. We'll pass over the sheep's bits & the camel's unmentionables - but she writes about desert dates, and the figs & pomegranates in the suqs. Just imagine.

So, what with the Kalahari springbok & Dame Freya's dates... well, my mind is full of sun & faraway places.

Kyloe's two young date palms are nowhere near ready to bear - but they're getting there. Such a business as it was to get them too, years ago. Ornamental palms, of course - no problem. But the real dactylifera - well, I hope that's what we've got...

Is there someone else who remembers those beautiful little wooden boxes that used to arrive, once a year, from somewhere in the northern Cape ? Fresh sticky syrupy dates. A treasure from a desert place. Like Dame Freya's desert fruits. A fond & rather melancholy memory.

Seems I have unfinished business with the deserts... Hence, I suppose, the Kalahari-Augrabies thing - no matter how tough the training. And that is how I discovered the cruelest words in the English language: "Repeat whole sequence 3 times."

The Man

No, sorry - he vetoed the sheepskin pictures. But here he is - just before the start of a hair-raising trek down the Nossob valley which brought us to the TweeRivieren camp gates loooong after the justifiably annoyed ranger had locked up for the night. A map-miscalculation which I do not recommend. Must admit though, it was exciting - after all, it was a Kalahari night.

The picture is in fact quite revealing - albeit rather less so than the sheepskin pics would have been. First of all, he likes rivers & forests & cool green shady jungly places. A 40+ deg C desert is not his preferred habitat. But it is mine - which makes this the picture of a generous man. It is also the picture of someone who's breaking the law - not allowed on foot in this part of wild predator country. But then the late afternoon light was making magic out of tsamma melons and red sand...

So there you have my one-man support team for the Augrabies Xtreme: a heat-intolerant, desert-hating free spirit who excels at navigating - in the dark - through dangerous, possibly hostile territory. I rather think I might be in good hands.

Which brings us to the matter of support and community - and that serious challenge which awaits all fruitarians (see 4 problems - 1 solution). As soon as I've taken care of some heavy breathing involving a couple of dumb-bells and a pezzi ball...

How ?

Same way you'd eat an elephant (You, not me - I'm fruitarian) - one bite at a time. I'm giving myself 4 years to turn into that Muscled Marvel crossing the finish line in the Kalahari, to thunderous applause, witnessed by hordes of skeptics busy eating their hats. So: 4 years of little goals, with a built-in reward-system. Of course. We'll get to that sometime.

Right now, it's carbo-loading time. Organic bananas & brazil nuts in the blender - half glass of water - with a generous shake of ground cinnamon (5 shakes this morning - on the principle of "If a Little is Nice, a Lot might be Even Nicer").

So, my carbo's are feeling loaded. A short rest is indicated.