Speckled Bean

11/12/2024

"Dear Irene,
On this special day, may you feel the love and joy of the Speckled Beans community. From all your readers, Da Team and GB, we wish you a year ahead filled with endless blessings, boundless hope, and all the happiness your heart can hold. Happy Birthday, Irene!"

10/12/2024

Morning Greetings from the Speckled Bean Desk

So here we are, the shadows of ’24 receding behind us, and we raise a toast, as the old saying goes, “The king is dead, long live the king.” It’s been a year that took its toll on Speckled Bean. Sacrifices—big and small—were made to keep the pages turning, the stories flowing, and the readers thinking. But can we stand here and say we’ve won? I think not.

Our world, much like Macbeth’s troubled Scotland, seems forever at war with itself. Shakespeare’s tragic lessons echo still—proof that we’ve not grown wiser with the centuries. Water quality deteriorates, our grasslands wither, and our heritage stands neglected. These are treasures that don’t feature on anyone’s balance sheet, and therein lies our folly.

We wax lyrical about tourism as if we all know what it is to wander foreign lands. Yet we can’t even manage the simple task of answering a cell phone, let alone composing an email or drafting a business plan. And still, some among us draw a tidy salary at month’s end for doing little more than doodling on forms in triplicate.

But, as for us at Speckled Bean, though we’ve lost a few battles, the war is not over. It’s not lost. What we’re doing here, we believe with conviction, is the right thing. If only corporate South Africa could lift its gaze long enough to see that.

A moment of peace in the Middle East would be a sight for sore eyes. Think of the possibilities—less spent on tearing each other apart, more spent on tending the planet we all share. And now, with the winds of change stirring faint hope in that troubled region, we might dare to give peace its due.

Still, it’s thanks to our loyal supporters that Speckled Bean presses on. Our humble magazine now graces even the global stage on Magzter, a platform that spans continents. Visit us at www.speckledbean.com to find the link.

But now, my work calls. The January issue is taking shape, themed around hope, a glimmer of light for the road ahead in 2025. Share with us your plans and achievements, dear reader. Submissions are due by the 20th. Let’s make this a new year to remember.

Yours in digital and perseverance,
GB

10/12/2024

02/12/2024

Hello Speckled Be***rs!

The December issue of Speckled Bean is officially LIVE at www.speckledbean.com! 🎉

Baxter's wagging, Dave's grinning, Irene's buzzing, Sue's plotting the next adventure, and yours truly is sipping on coffee while typing this (and spilling half of it on my keyboard, naturally).

This issue is packed with heart, laughter, and everything that makes Clarens and beyond so magical. So, show some love—support local, support Speckled Bean! Let's keep the festive spirit alive!

Visit us online and dive into the joy, peace, and quirky charm of our latest edition. And its on the international bookshelf - Magzter.

Warm beans and warm wishes,
The Speckled Bean Team (Da Team)

P.S. Don't forget to tell your friends, neighbors, and even the postman! 😉

30/11/2024

Heads I Win, Tails You Lose: The Great Pumpkin Patch Showdown
See dramatized version; https://youtu.be/5SdYqBm1AaI
Last Saturday dawned bright and windy at Klappersfontein. The air crackled with tension as Wagter, Baksteen’s mischievous African Bull Terrier, had trampled through Tant Sarie’s prized pumpkin patch, leaving a trail of devastation.
Fuming, Tant Sarie marched up the dusty path to Baksteen’s farm, her bonnet flapping like an angry flag. She pointed a furious finger at Baksteen’s husband, Pieter, who was leaning against the tractor, chewing lazily on a stalk of grass.
“You owe me pumpkins, Pieter!” she shouted, her voice rising above the wind.
Pieter froze mid-chew, his eyes darting toward the Dominee, who was just arriving for a pre-fundraiser chat. Tant Sarie wasn’t finished. “No pumpkins, no pie for the Dominee’s fundraiser!” she bellowed, ensuring the Dominee overheard every word.
The Dominee, always eager to mediate, stepped forward, his hands raised like a referee at a rugby match. “Let’s resolve this in a proper South African way,” he suggested, attempting to inject calm into the storm.
Baksteen, stepping onto the scene with her coffee jug in hand, rolled her eyes. “Enough talking! We’ll settle this right now—with a coin toss,” she declared, pulling a bent coin from her pocket. She held it up dramatically, letting the sun glint off its battered surface. “Heads, I win. Tails, you lose. Fair enough?”
Tant Sarie hesitated, her bonnet momentarily still as she considered. The Dominee, eager to avoid further conflict—and hungry for pie—nodded. “Seems fair to me,” he said, adjusting his collar.
With a flick of her thumb, Baksteen sent the coin spinning high into the air. It tumbled, flashing in the sunlight before landing with a dull thunk in the dust.
“Tails!” Baksteen announced triumphantly. “I win!”
Tant Sarie squinted at the coin, suspicion furrowing her brow. “What happens if it lands on heads?”
“Same thing,” Baksteen replied with a smirk. “I win.”
“And tails?” Pieter asked, now looking increasingly nervous.
“You lose.” Baksteen’s tone left no room for argument.
Tant Sarie folded her arms. “That doesn’t seem—”
“Fair? Of course it’s fair,” Baksteen interrupted briskly. “Basic math, Sarie. Keep up!”
The Dominee, sensing dissent, clapped his hands together. “The Lord’s will is clear: Baksteen wins!” he proclaimed, hoping to move on to dessert planning.
But Pieter’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait a minute… heads or tails, we always lose!”
The small crowd gasped in unison.
“You’ve been scamming us!” Tant Sarie cried, pointing accusingly at Baksteen.
Baksteen shrugged, climbing onto her tractor and pocketing the coin. “Not my fault you’re all mathematically challenged,” she retorted, her voice carrying on the breeze. “Now, who’s next? Heads I win, tails you lose!”
No one dared step forward.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the hills and the Old Brown Sherry flowed freely, even the Dominee had to admit: it was the most entertaining fundraiser they’d ever had.
www.speckledbean.com

END

24/11/2024

A Comedy of Codes
Another weekend, gone quicker than a farmer’s bakkie over a pothole. The country, like Baksteen’s chickens scratching for seeds, is scratching for answers—only to find the ground picked clean - looted. But ja, we push on. Pieter and Wagter are out gathering wood for the “choppies,” and the Dominee’s Old Brown Sherry waits, like salvation, in the jug.
Inside, Baksteen faced her Eskom box. That thing has a logic more twisted than a thorn tree in a storm. She punched in the first code. Beep! Victory. The second? Another beep. She was a woman on a winning streak. Then came the third.
“INVALID TOKEN,” blinked the screen. “START AGAIN, SUCKER.”
“Invalid?” Baksteen’s voice rose like the price of paraffin. “I’ll show you invalid!” She grabbed her phone to call Eskom, only to recall her last attempt—an hour spent listening to violins screeching like they’d been strung by a drunk fiddler, and that smug voice: ‘Your call will be recorded for quality reasons.’ Quality! She’d seen better quality in Tant Sarie’s Koeksisters.
I shook my head. “And that, my friend,” I said to Wagter, “is why kerosene lamps make sense. They may stink, but they never argue.”
From the stoep, I saw Baksteen marching out, candles /sticks in one hand, Pieter in tow. No doubt off to light the donkey boiler. Poor Pieter looked like a man being led to his own hanging.
I lit my pipe and chuckled. “Eskom,” I said, “the only company that can keep us in the dark while providing the best comedy in the land.”
In the distance, Pieter’s clanking and Baksteen’s muttering mingled with the night, while the Dominee’s Very late-harvest warmed me like the fire Eskom could never provide.
www.speckledbean.com

23/11/2024

Seeing is believing;

One of our stories. Gold, treasure, diamonds; the tale of Africa. Enjou! Speckled Bean.

23/11/2024

Seeing is believing.

One of our stories. Gold, treasure, diamonds; the tale of Africa. Enjou! Speckled Bean.

17/11/2024

Divining Disaster and Braais
It was one of those lazy afternoons on Baksteen’s farm, where even the sun seemed to yawn. I sat on the stoep, pipe in hand, savouring Moer koffie so strong it could’ve resuscitated the corridors of Pretoria. Pieter, as usual, was avoiding responsibility—until I told him to light the braai fire. “Later,” he muttered, staring at nothing.
That’s when the water diviner arrived, all dust and bravado. With a Y-shaped willow branch in hand, he claimed he could find water under our yard. Baksteen, sharp as ever, gave Pieter a look that could slice biltong. “You brought this nonsense here?”
Wagter, their African Bull Terrier, sniffed the man, growling low. The diviner strutted about, the branch twitching like a scared chicken. Wagter pounced, sending the fellow hopping like a springhare.
When the Dominee arrived with Tant Sarie and a flask of “triple-blessed OB’s” Old Brown Sherry, they found the diviner rubbing his ankle. “Found water,” he declared, pointing dramatically. Then he demanded payment.
“Jy’s mal!” Baksteen roared. Before Pieter could utter “cash,” like they do at these political motivational e-meetings, she “klapped” the man so hard his Y stick flew, and his pride followed. He fumbled out a shiny watch, claiming it was “found on the property.
Baksteen’s eyes narrowed. With a bellow that rivalled the Free State wind, she launched him out the gate, watch and stick reclaimed.
“Pieter, the braai,” she said firmly. This time, he obeyed.
“Moer coffee,” I murmured, relighting my pipe. It was that kind of day.
And with that, you have you good one and take a look at our new FAST link to view Speckled Bean.
www.speckledbean.com

15/11/2024

Sspeckled Bean Flip Book Available;

Created with the Heyzine flipbook maker

01/11/2024

Spot On – First of November Means Speckled Bean is Ready for You!

That’s right, your November issue of Speckled Bean is waiting on the server just for you. Head to www.speckledbean.com and grab it now!

A whopping 72 pages, packed with what you love – that’s right, people are clamouring for more, and we’re bringing it! Every page celebrates us, the working class, and it’s hitting hard.

So, dig in, enjoy, and remember to pop by our brand-new coffee shop at the entrance to Clarens for a cuppa. You’ve earned it!

Cheers,
The Speckled Bean Team

31/10/2024

Corporate Customer Service
A Comedy of Errors or Just a Bad Dream?
Imagine stepping into a carnival funhouse that promises a friendly guide to lead you through, only to find mirrors and dead-ends that distort your every step.
Welcome to corporate customer service, where cheerful, multi-coloured computers greet you with hollow words like “We care!” and “Your satisfaction is our priority!” Yet, once inside, it quickly feels like you’re navigating an escape room with no way out.
Consider the first act: you’re on hold, trapped in a limbo of chirpy, looping elevator tunes, waiting for the infamous “quality-monitored” voice. It finally arrives, telling you to send an email—an email that might as well be delivered by carrier pigeon.
You might think you’re on a comedy show, but the joke is that your email will likely vanish into an inbox black hole where responses seem as mythical as unicorns. In corporate customer service, every email is like casting a message into the ocean, hoping a bottle will wash up with help. Spoiler alert: it rarely does.
Now imagine you’re stranded at the station, hearing the announcement, “All trains are running smoothly,” while watching every train zoom past, never stopping. Meanwhile, a choir of accountants stands behind closed doors, singing hymns to profit with fervour, blissfully unaware of the crowd clamouring outside. For these accountants, it’s like a private party where the “people” are just statistics, only real when they translate into a healthy bottom line.
And then, there’s the cherry on top: the company executives—presumably the conductors of this circus—snoozing in their plush offices, blissfully unfazed by the chaos below. It’s as if they’re backstage at a theatre, oblivious that the main act is a farce.
In this world, “We’re here to help!” sounds more like a catchphrase from a sitcom than a promise. The whole setup feels like a reality show, and the twist is that we, the frustrated customers, are the only ones who know the punchline.
End

31/10/2024

Charlene Smith
I love visiting new towns and going into restaurants or hotels that not only have local art on the walls but the name of the artwork, artist, and price. I’m always looking for new art, nothing I hate more than what I call supermarket-art: mass-produced Holiday Inn type fakery,

30/10/2024

Remember that. Phew. time flies. GB

A wonderful evening here in Mauritius with Penny Coelen - Miss World.

30/10/2024

Check this out!

In a recent podcast "Maintaining with Tyrus", Donald Trump revealed a side of his life that most people don't get to see: Donald Trump, the family man. In th...

27/10/2024

Hey guys, give Heidi your support. GB