I remember the day vividly. 2nd September 2009. Sam and I had just received a mail from Elaine, Barry’s wife, sending us a belated congratulations on our new pregnancy. Elaine didn’t know it then, but Barry had already been lost out at sea for many hours. The next morning I received a call from Mike. Mike tends to phone me when massive stuff is happening, like when he called in 2001, telling me that a plane had flown into the World Trade Centre in New York. Mike’s call went like this on the 3rd September 2009, “Aids, I’ve heard a rumour that Barry Marshall is missing. Do you know anything about it?” What followed was an intense 4 hour period as we received updates from the NSRI as they searched for Barry out at sea. At about lunch time we got the news that the search was over. They had found Barry’s body. He did not survive the night out at sea.

I cannot describe the shock that I was in. Barry was a larger than life character – it was inconceivable that he was dead. So, on the anniversary of his death, here’s an ode to a larger than life character …

I really mean that. Barry was a larger than life kinda guy. I know all to well how we tend to elevate a person once they are dead. We use totalitarian terms like “always” when describing their best qualities. We do this to rationalise the death in some way, hoping to qualm the regrets we harbour because we sometimes disliked or loathed the person’s less than savoury behaviour or personality traits.

The thing with Barry though, and I’ve had a year to process my denial, is that he was such a bighearted man that it is really quite difficult to imagine him not being around. This is what I mean when I say he was larger than life. Not invincible no (although sometimes he took on life as though he believed he was), just a large character. Anyone who encountered him would attest to his huge booming voice and his in-your-face confrontational style. You just knew when you were in the presence of the “zoob”.

And you would either love him, or hate him. He would either speak a God-inspired word into your life, or he would piss on your battery (mainly because you may hold a theological, philosophical or ethical position that he disagreed with). He didn’t seem to care about your background, what hangups you had or what successes dotted your life – he engaged with you as a fellow God-created human being.

A regular Sunday evening supper club was the mainstay of Barry’s week. Whether he was serving as a minister in Sunward Park, Brakpan, Edenvale or Port Elisabeth, supper club at Barry’s was legendary. It was in these times that you would get a real sense of Barry’s heart – intimate, direct, personal, challenging and loud! He was either dominating the conversation or pouring more wine.

There are so many memories I have of Barry. Tangible ones. Ones that I hope I’ll never forget. It is still my dream to compile a book about Barry, to collect a series of anecdotes from people whose lives he touched so that we can record his life in some small way.

Within the church Barry was probably quite a nuisance amongst his colleagues, but probably the best advert for faith in God to non-believers. Time and time again Barry would win over the hearts of people wrestling with the idea of God, the role and faults of the church and their own fallability. He would do this with his “real-ness”. Saying “fuck”, as he often did, was probably one of the best evangelical traits Barry had. How bizarre is that? It is this real-ness that probably got up the noses of the hierachy in the Methodist Church of South Africa. He would confront the real issues the church was facing, or not-facing, with a challenging voice. There were times that he felt utter despair at how the church was failing in its calling, yet he still loved the place.

Barry had a unique and fresh theology. This is also why I wish I could write a book about Barry – to keep his “theological voice” alive within the church. I suspect that there would be many church leaders who would be glad to not have his “voice” around anymore. Barry’s voice needs a medium for continuation. The church needs to hear his voice, especially with regards to two of his bugbears: poverty and homosexuality. He was convinced we are not doing enough to do what Jesus told us to do: feed the poor. He was probably equally convinced that we are not embodying the spirit of Jesus’ love in the church by marginalising gay folk.

As a friend, Barry’s voice was tenable. We were driving around one day talking about life and growing up (Barry had mentored me through my teenage years into adulthood). I mentioned that my age may be a limiting factor in the work I do. He threw a sideways look at me from the passenger seat and said, “Aiden, you have found your voice, you have just not learned to trust it yet.”

I’m sure there are many similar encounters that friends, family and congregants could share about the man. I’ll share just one more …

When Barry’s best friend Rhett died some years back, Barry lead the funeral. Rhett and Barry had always had a very candid relationship. They shared a special joke around telling each other “fuck you”. And so, at the pinacle of Barry’s message in the funeral he said this, “Rhett, fuck you for dying!”

That pretty much sums it up for me. All the pain, sadness, tragedy and unrealised significance is summed up in one big massive “fuck you for dying Barry.”

We would have loved to rule the internet until Jesus returned, perhaps to witness the power-sharing deal the ANC will desperately try to broker, but alas the lifeblood of all websites, advertising, has never materialised. If we had a buck for everyone in Corporate South Africa who said, “I adore the site, I just don’t want to associate my brand with it,” we could have retired. But we kind of understand: the people who are trying to convince us that you need to buy their soap to wash your dirty soap are clearly in the satire business too, so perhaps they see us as competition.

Four years!? What the …. ? The 14 days of industrial action equates to a four year debt.

I’m not sure it has occurred to our average public servant, be it an administrator, teacher or hospital nurse, that while they have either been sitting at home, or out on the streets intimidating volunteers working in their place, that it will take them so long to recover the money they’ve lost?

Now, lest I be misunderstood, I am all for the right to strike. Especially in this current situation. The pay scheme’s for teachers, nurses and the like are woeful. I can attest to this myself having been a teacher. But there comes a point when a protracted strike has no logical reason for it’s continuation. There is no econmic justification, just a principle-based pissing competition. Here’s what I mean …

If one had to look at a strike purely from a personal finance perspective, there comes a tipping point, a break even if you like, where the money lost due to no-work-no-pay is greater than you’ll make up via the increase you’ll get as part of the negotiated settlement. I heard from a reliable source that the break even point for the current strike was day 6. Today the strike entered day 14.

And so, when a strike gets protracted the economic rationale for the industrial action flies out the window. So what is left by way of rationale?

Well, power dynamics. When reason leaves the room, you have a fight based on the principle of not giving way. And so it becomes a power struggle where neither party is willing to give way. On a matter of principle, labour will not give up.

Now, if fairness was a key organising rationale for the strike in the first place, what happens to it when the strike surpasses the break even point? I guess fairness has to give way to ego.

And so, this is the dance that happens at about this time every year in South Africa. Wage negotiations begin. Both parties table a ridiculous figure, knowing full well that neither party has the intention to stick to that figure, and that an inevitable compromise will result. It all becomes a big fat game of chicken.

What really gets me going is the ethical perspective – while labour has been playing chicken with government over what is effectively a four year debt for their members, our children have lost 14 days worth of education; masses of people have been denied health care; and scores have died as a result.

There is a short-circuit somewhere in the brains of the South African workforce and union bosses. They seem to be a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket.

Yesterday saw the passing on of a family friend after a horrendous battle with cancer. Kathy Malan leaves behind a husband and 16-year old daughter.

In a few days time myself & many friends will remember the tragic death of Barry Marshall last year in September.

I’m deeply affected by these deaths. It’s as if the stakes in my life have increased in the last few years. Marriage and fatherhood have made my life more precious in a sense. There’s so much more to lose than when I was a care-free teenager.

People fear that they are in some way resigning themselves to the “un-solvability” of the problem if they utter the very word. Behind this fear lies a a fatalistic way of languaging the issue at hand. Instead, the rhetoric surrounding how we language a problem is pervaded by “challenges”. The other perspective on this rhetoric is that by admitting that an issue is a problem, you somehow admit some form of culpability in relation to the problem. And so, referring to a “challenge” displaces the responsibility for not having already solved the problem.

So much of what we think we know about our history as a race is based on the findings of archeology. But what is archeology, beyond just a few khaki-clad academics digging around in dirty pits?

At its best, archeology is a postulation based on a minimal set of artifacts. I remember visiting Israel a few years back – a land where archeologists go mashoogas over what may be found underneath the dirt, and extrapolate their findings with gay abandon, reconstructing “life as it was back then”. The thing that gets me though about archeology is this: how do you extrapolate a theory about the historical context of a set of artifacts that you have unearthed into an accurate theory of what was happening at that point in time?

The majority of archeology digging sites that I’ve visited seem to uncover human dwellings in very good states. It was almost as if the humans of the day moved out and someone dumped a pile of dirt right onto their house, and then built new dwellings on the mound. The reality of human ages is that we biuld on top of our previous locations all the time, so much so that it must be impossible to uncover one specific set of artifacts that represent one particular point in time.

So there’s your useless reflection for the day, spurned on by a landfill.

As Season 3 unfolds, Katie is apprehended and brought before a court to face charges for the ordeal. Violet is asked to testify against Katie to conclude the case. Violet needs to make a choice: testify as a professional psychologist who has an opinion on whether Katie is ultimately responsible for her actions amidst her delusions, or present to the court a personal story of immense pain brought on by Katie’s actions regardless of her state of mind. Her choice was to either recommend that Katie be sentenced to psychiatric care, or sent to prison for life. Psychiatric care would see Katie treated for her condition with the hope of healing. Prison would result in Katie being lost in the system and not given the chance to be cured.

As an ethical dilemma, what choice would you make if you were Violet, and why?

You see, I’m now in a position where I am employing people to become a part of my own company, The Narrative Lab, and that raises some unique concerns …

We’re a virtual company and we work this way because of our experiences of the limitations associated with being bound to an office. The challenge I now face is employing young people who have had very little or no office environment experience. I am now wondering how beneficial it is to their careers to have a virtual environment as the forming experience in their career?

Virtual environments, while growing in popularity, are the exception not the norm. Is it fair to allow a young staff member to get used to the sometimes comfortable benefits of a virtual, work-from-home environment if they are likely to end up in a office-bound environment at some point in their careers?

I dunno. Your thoughts?

Here’s a little bit about the amazing work they’re doing …

Delme Linscott

Delme is a Methodist Minister in Pietermaritzburg who is a talented writer. He has a particular passion for addressing the issue of emigration in South Africa and how it breaks apart families. He runs workshops addressing these issues for families struggling in this realm. Check out his site at Living in Grace. Be sure to follow him on twitter as well.

Gareth Killeen

Gareth is a driven guy who owns Crux Mobi Media. He is pioneering the use of mobile technology in ministry. His main focus at the moment is the mobi magazine So What? He is convinced that utilising mobile tech is vital in South Africa when promoting the Gospel. I think he’s right!

Tom Smith

Tom is one of the most forward thinking theologians I’ve ever met. He is uncompromising on building a contextually relevant church in South Africa. He also happens to be one of the best teachers the country has!

Paul Oosthuizen

Paul is currently a Methodist minister in Roodepoort. I first met him when he was Youth Pastor at Northfield. The best way to describe Paul’s mind is incisive – he cuts to the heart of issues of faith in an uncanny manner.

Andrew Barrett

Andrew is an old mate from varsity days. He pioneered the ability to fall asleep in lectures with his head still up (amazing!). Andrew has gone on to study philosphy and has started an NGO that aims to build community. He is a huge fan of reasoning and is able to uncover the depths and layers of an argument in an amazing way.

Andrew Evans

One of the challenges of being a Methodist minister is that you can get stationed out in the sticks. This is the case with Andrew Evans and he does it gladly, with enthusiasm. He pastors four congregations in the Free State. Andrew has a tangibly down to earth approach to life an ministry.

Today I received yet another piece of shoddy service from a small business. It broke the last straw of a long line of terrible service. So I tweeted a criticism of them and named the company – Night Owl Creations, the guys who did my SA Flag car wrap.I generally prefer not to berate small businesses for their short-comings. I’m a small business owner and know that we need every opportunity we can get to succeed. But man alive! It has been non-stop drama from these palookas since the time I needed to book my car in to get the vinyl applied. Now that it is time to remove it (which is part of the package with them), they have not been able to come right. Excuses, excuses. So, I have named and shamed. I feel better. But I am still inconvenienced by their service ineptitude.

Edit: after some digging around, I see that Night Owl is using my car as part of their portfolio. Tsk. Tsk.
Post-edit 11/08/2010: Night Owl were meant to come and remove my vinyl wrap today. They failed to arrive. I lost my temper. They told me to shove the work up my arse, literally. I refuse to now let them touch my car. Abusive people they are. Understand basic service and reliability, they don’t. Miffed, I am.