Carol’s Column

Blame it all on spinach

Twenty-one years ago, in 1969, Czechoslovakia played hockey against Russia. The Czechs trounced their opposition.

The Russians were not happy. To demonstrate their displeasure, they sent the Red Army into Czechoslovakia to show the Czechs who the real winners were. Shortly after this, Czechoslovakia’s leader, Alexander Dubcek, the man who attempted to give communism a human face, was sacked by the Russians.

That was the end of reform and further hockey matches in Czechoslovakia.

I learnt this last week as I concocted an exotic dinner of fish, chips and spinach. Spinach stimulates the brain to greater intellectual heights, they say.

“Good heavens,” I exclaimed to my teenage daughter of the long eyelashes and ethnic sandals, “fancy crushing a reform movement because of losing a hockey match.”

“Well, that wasn’t the only reason that Dubcek was overthrown,” she admitted.

Then: “Have you heard of the Baghdad Pact?”

“You mean the Great Baghdad Belly Dancers’ Truce of 1911.”

“No, Ma. This was a pact between Iraq, Pakistan and Turkey in 1955.”

“Oh, yes, that silly old pact.” I busied myself in the spinach.

That was on Monday. On Tuesday I learnt about the rise of totalitarianism.

“You could,” said my daughter, “equate it to the regime in this household by which one despotic figure rules to the exclusion of any other ideologies.”

“I don’t think that’s a nice way to talk about your father,” I snapped waspishly.

“It wasn’t Dad I was talking about,” she said meaningfully.

“You are making a bolus,” said my daughter at dinner on Wednesday.

I stopped chewing.

“It’s Henry-the-Hog, not me,” I retorted sharply. Old dogs are known for flatulence.

“Ma, that’s not what I mean,” said Nicky. “When you chew, you turn the food into a ball — a bolus. That bolus travels down your throat, through your digestive system and, in different form, is evacuated as waste.”

Matric prelims are a strain.

We’d abandoned history and were now on to biology.

This was confirmed with Nicky’s next remark. “You probably had a deficiency in your pituitary gland when you were born which accounts for your midgetism,” she observed.

“The best things come in small packages,” I muttered.

Frankly, I’m finding these exams extremely difficult. Maths and biology are incomprehensible and history is dividing the family.

Take the discussion on sanctions.

“Sanctions should be lifted and the rest of the world must give De Klerk recognition for his actions. Even though he’s redressing wrongs, the bottom line is he’s taken positive action,” stated Nicky.

“The corner stones of apartheid still stand — the Population Registration, Group Areas and Land Acts,” replied Jamie. “When they go, sanctions go.”

“Look what happened to Germany after the Versailles Treaty,” replied Nicky. “It was so punitive towards Germany, that Germany took revenge. The result was World War 2. If De Klerk has nothing to show for his reforms, the right wing will become stronger and there’ll be civil war.”

“So what are you suggesting?” said Jamie.

“For a start, drop sports sanctions. If the All Blacks or the Lions come and play one international rugby test against the Springboks, I guarantee you National Party and other right wingers will support De Klerk’s reforms,” retorted my daughter.

Jamie snorted and with dessert came a fiery discussion on fascism and communism.

“Perhaps biology is less inflammatory,” I murmured to my offspring.

“Okay, Ma, I’ll tell you about the digestive system of the slime eel,” said Nicky enthusiastically.

There is a message there somewhere.

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