Daniel Eliasson

I was looking into buying SSL certificates for work the other day, and in order to get a certificate that’s suitable for e-commerce purposes, one (of course) needs to verify one’s identity.

The company that issues the certificates requires documentation verifying the identity of the organisation: registrations, tax forms etc, but also documentation to verify the identity of some individual within the organisation. I would have done it myself, but then I looked on the list of documentation necessary:

1. Copy of passport
2. Copy of driver’s license
3. Copy of utility bill
4. Copy of other mail to your address

I realised that I can satisfy #1, but none of the other three. I do not have any utility bills, or other bills for that matter. I use a prepaid cell phone, the SIM card of which I have not registered (in violation of new SA legislation), I have prepaid electricity, and I don’t get any mail. As far as most organisations in the world is concerned, I might as well be a ghost, homeless, or dead. I’m certainly not trustworthy.

Sometimes I miss the simplicity of Sweden, where identity is equal to personal identification number, and all you need is an ID card. Ahh, to feel the comforting embrace of Big Brother.

It’s been said that you get a honeymoon of six months with a new country. At first, everything is new, cool and exciting. You do, see and eat new things every day, and enjoy the novelty. Eventually, however, you get used to the things that were at first so exciting, and you begin to notice those things you don’t have anymore, and you begin to miss them. You also become more aware of the negative sides of your new surroundings.

My experience (n=2) tells me that this is quite accurate. Today, for instance, I had the privilege to be subjected to my first South African robbery attempt. I was walking to work, and turned onto Long street from Orange. I don’t usually take this path, but in a frenzy before the 2010 football world cup, most of the sidewalks in the area around my workplace are being ripped up in order to put down… well, fuck knows. Power lines? Fiber optic cable? Kudu wors? Either way, my usual way to work was blocked, so onto Long street I went. A little way down the road, two black youngsters, around 18-22, are blocking my path. As I move to pass them, one guy grabs my wrist and tells me I will give him big money. I say I don’t have any, whereupon he says “I am catching you. You can run, but I am catching you.” I pulled my arm from his grip, and then crossed to the other sidewalk, and kept walking. The guy didn’t pursue me.

I was expecting to be scared, but the only thing I felt was minor annoyance, the same way I feel about the bergies and common white people that beg from me every day. Tomorrow’s shopping list has a small pepper spray on it (Bullet–making grown men cry since [some year]).

It has been about 3 months since I last posted anything on this blog that interested anyone except possibly Maria. I’ve been busy working, but surely I have had time at some point to put my pen to the paper, or rather my fingertips to the keyboard?

I have, but I’ve found myself with precious little to tell: I’ve worked in the days, eaten dinner and watched some TV shows on the computer in the evenings. There has simply been few interesting events lately, but even so, surely I could have written something?

The rub, I realise, is that I simply do not enjoy writing an online diary, and so the blog suffers. On the other hand, I know that it’s fun for readers to hear something from me every now and then; I know this because I myself enjoy reading the blogs of others.

In order to have enough material to write somewhat regularly, I need to take one of two actions: either I can write about my life, but must then write about more trivial and more personal things, or I can shift the focus away from my own person, and onto those things that interest me. I have no desire to do the former, thus I shall do the latter.

So, to motivate myself to write this blog, I will be writing it mostly for my own enjoyment, and so you, dear readers, must expect to be taken in all sorts of directions as I write about the first thing that comes to mind.

For today, let me give you an excellent reading tip: George Orwell’s “Politics and the English Language” from 1946. The more you read from Mr. Orwell, the more you realise that he was a brilliant and rare voice of reason.