Carol’s Column

Is this a secret weapon, or what?

For the past few weeks I have been physically challenged. Nothing serious, you understand, just a matter of a large plaster cast on my foot which creates a problem when I wish to dance the tango each morning.

Of course, tango dancing is a far better start to the day than doing Canadian army exercises, aerobics or even tai chi. It also beats running around the Zoo Lake or any other public space where you might possibly be liberated of your aerodynamic trainers and running shirt with Bruce Fordyce's signature on the front.

Many years ago, I met an Argentinian sandal salesman with gleaming teeth called Riccardo who taught me that the best way to stay in shape was to dance the tango the moment I got out of bed.

Not only does the tango stretch the parts of your anatomy which need to be stretched, it also becomes increasingly vigorous in tempo, so you progress from a gentle warm-up to vigorous activity.

But a broken foot can create problems. Only this weekend, I read about South Africa's own human pretzel, young Lunga Buthelezi. According to the report, this talented 11-year-old gymnast from Katlehong, is a contortionist with a top circus in the USA. When she's not attending school, she trains and performs her sport for the UniverSoul Circus and sends her weekly pay cheque of $1000 home to her unemployed mother.

There will be those who question whether or not an 11-year-old kid should be working, however, remember, she has a unique talent. If she was a prodigy pianist or violinist, nobody would murmur about her performing in public.

Anyway, Lunga is able to contort herself into the form of a human pretzel by effortlessly wrapping her legs (and feet) around her head.

This is not an easy thing to do because I attempt something similar each time I slide into the bath due to the fact that my plaster cannot get wet.

Only yesterday morning, the cast became entangled in my hair and I was stuck in a pretzel-like position for two hours until my husband returned from early morning gym. He is not an early morning tango dancer.

When physically disadvantaged, the most simple thing such as putting on a pair of broekies becomes difficult. What's more, you're forced to move in slow motion and you constantly miss out.

Phones stop ringing before you have time to answer, you lose your place in queues and you can't run to catch a bus. You can't ride a bike because the cast doesn't fit on the pedals and you can't drive a car because the cast gets wedged between the pedals.

My late grandmother, the legendary Turkish belly dancer from Stellenbosch, always said that there are two kinds of people in life. Those who will say they have a half-empty glass of red wine and those who will say their glass is half full. She taught us those who go through life believing their wine glasses half empty, will do something about it and immediately get it refilled. In other words, be pro-actively positive.

I thought this yesterday, when I stood with several people waiting patiently for a lift which seemed to be stuck on an upper floor. As it arrived, a large, aggressive lout pushed aside the elderly, mothers with prams and the infirm – me - and forced himself into the lift.

Which is why, as we journeyed upwards, it gave me great pleasure to edge sideways and crush his big left foot with my very large plaster cast.

Is this a secret weapon, or what? I see my grandmother smiling.

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