Giant rats eat two babies in South Africa townships

[admin tim]

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1393836/Giant-rats-eat-babies-South-Africa-townships-separate-attacks.html

[Paul Kearney A.K.A. NEMO]

Terrible story

There's a link on that page to a book written as an autobiography by a woman called Grace Foakes who was born in the East End in 1901

It relates a life of poverty in which a mug of hot water with a piece of bread in it, flavoured with salt, pepper and margerine was a meal...

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/books/article-1391165/A-slice-bread-mug-hot-water-Luxury--FOUR-MEALS-FOR-FOURPENCE-BY-GRACE-FOAKES.html

[Phil Carter]

Terrible story

There's a link on that page to a book written as an autobiography by a woman called Grace Foakes who was born in the East End in 1901

It relates a life of poverty in which a mug of hot water with a piece of bread in it, flavoured with salt, pepper and margerine was a meal...

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/book...CE-FOAKES.html

HelloNemo,

A close family member of mine was brought up on something akin to this, called a "starvation diet". He was so under-nourished that at aged 12 he was thought to have a "weak heart" shown by a total inability to run more than a few paces without becoming totally out of breath....and it was only then that a doctor discovered his frailness was due to his totally inadequate and insufficient diet. It was born out of sheer poverty. His usual diet consisted of a "penny bun" and on Sundays a "penny bun and a cup of tea".

He had literally been given away aged 3 weeks old by someone who asked in a pub if anyone needed a child, or could take in a child. The man who became his foster father was in the pub that night, on home leave from the army (1915) and the arrangement was made after consultation with his heartbroken wife, who had tragically lost their only child, a son, aged 3 years old, a while earlier, and they could no longer have children.
He was brought up by this foster mother alone for sadly his foster father subsequently died when the young boy was two years old, being killed in action during WW1, in 1917. The foster mother scraped a job scrubbing floors when she could get one. The Adoption Act didn't come into force until 1927, so he was never legally adopted. She received no money from the State, and only a meager pension after her husband's death in 1917. The only "shoes" he ever wore until he was 14 were home-made, roughly cut and shaped wooden clogs.

He started work at 14 in an engineering company on the work floor benches, and initially had to stand on a box to do his work because of his lack of height. He stayed at the same company for 36 years.

The boy lied about his age in order to get into the local rifle regiment of the Territorial Army whereupon he recieved 3 hearty meals per day on full day's activities, and from age 14-17 he grew over 30cm, eventually becoming 6ft 1" tall... he became a crack marksman with a rifle despite being extremely long sighted, was signed up for and did special duties during the 2nd World War, and rose fairly quickly through the ranks of both his unit and his employment. Only twice in old age, did he ever say no to ANY type of food, and never, ever, left anything on his plate. He always said that
"if you have lived with experiencing having absolutely nothing, then ALL food tastes wonderful"...He was also one of the kindest, nicest and funniest of men I have ever met.
He lived until he was 81 years old.

That young giveaway child was my father.

best wishes

Phil

[Maria Birbili]

I taught a junior high class in a South African township (called Kayamandi) last July. The kids were smart and vivacious (and super cute). It was one of the “posh“ townships, between Stellenbosh and Cape Town. It featured 2 medical clinics and electricity in all the shacks, but they totally lacked fridges. The elderly inhabitants looked malnurished, but the kids real healthy, and the women who had jobs bordering on fat, and often paired up with alcoholic, unemployed men who looked old enough to be their fathers.
What they featured for meat in the town's market (WITHOUT fridges!) consisted solely of tripe, HUGE cow hearts with the arteries still on, and sheep heads, which looked more like the head of a dog. There was an old lady with what I initially thought was yellow paint all over her face hitting a sheep head with a hammer, and it took me a moment to realize that what her face was covered with was not yellow paint!
We also had locally made beer (with hardly any booze in it) made in the shack that served as a local pub, sharing the same glass with all pub patrons.

The poorest townships today (striken by crime and violence against non South African immigrants) are in Johannesburg.