Having AND eating cakes since 1977
 

D . A . D There is a very clear line between what is chicken-soup (kosher) and what is completely illegal. Or maybe not so - when white and black businessmen suddenly get very rich overnight, leaving many stones turned in the process or when international fugitives live a life of luxury, seemingly immune from any prosecution. Oh, don't forget our two former mayors or premiers or whatever that means - Peter Marais and Gerald Morkel. They have inflicted irreparable damage upon the culture of Western Cape politics so much so that I would not be surprised to hear that an American production house was buying the film rights. At the very top of the business food chain in South Africa, fat cats, both white and black, have conducted deals in a way which is no better than stealing money from a pensioner. The arms deal has left the credibility of the government (if there ever was any) in tatters and made certain individuals (who certainly do not deserve it) extremely wealthy. So our beginning statement has holes in it - these days, it is in fact extremely difficult to distinguish between what is right and what is wrong. However, there is one little illegal operation, distributing in the northern and southern suburbs in Cape Town which is different. We shall refer to it as D.A.D - the bulk of the story should depict exactly which operation I'm referring to. South Africa has a couple of silly little rules regarding the availability and distribution of alcohol which have survived the democratic transition and exist to this very day. Why they exist is questionable; maybe addressing the nature of these laws is an afternoon affair for all our politicians? If so, then I can see why nothing gets done. After the lunches that are served in Parliament's canteen, there are only two options. 1) Golf course 2) Mr. Video (I'm serious - ask anyone about the time politicians were asked to listen to a guest American professor on the subject of child abuse and child protection structure - you'll find that certain individuals, responsible for local economic welfare were at the 11th tee at The Metropolitan Golf Course. No names mentioned but Kent Morkel you were spotted and like-father-like-son. Archaic as the laws may be, they have however provided an opportunity which has since been turned into a thriving and highly admirable business. With respect to the individuals, names have been changed to protect the sustenance of the service. Take *Marcus, *Keegan and *Lincoln. Three individuals with depth and insight, observing the hostile employment conditions at the same time as being inspired by Mr. Delivery and other organizations intent on globalization. Then take the laws mentioned above and put the two into our first equation. The result, you'll find, spells the word 'opportunity'. The 'opportunity' was not only dangerous, but highly illegal too. Instead of wasting time weighing up the odds, a decision to organize themselves into a professional outfit was made. 'Success is the result of brave decisions and great risks.' Never a truer word spoken. Recently, an operation not unlike the one in question caught the headlines (the headlines of a local Fish Hoek newsweekly that is). This formerly 'dry' town caught an individual delivering 2 cases of Hansa, a bottle of Russian Bear and a case of Smirnoff Ice to a group of soon-to-be matriculants. Well, you can imagine the drivel that was spoken at the 6th Community Church (there are 78 of them in the area) that evening. Satan had apparently arrived in a red Toyota conquest wearing a baggy Mad Dogs t-shirt and Buffalo Boots (that they got right - if Beelzebub does in fact wear shoes - the odds on Buffalo boots are good). 'Where was God when we needed him most? Brother David Burger, fisherman, Durbanite and preacher at the Sun Valley Parish was not impressed when I phoned for information surrounding the incident. 'You want to celebrate these people? For causing more alcoholism in a country already famed for it?' We are trying to instill wholesome values into the youth - both you and the business of alcohol sale and delivery are conflicting with the principles of God.' 'Um, does your parish follow the teachings of Pastor Ray McCauley?' 'Yes, we are affiliated to the Rhema Movement.' Right then, I'm beginning to sweat already. 'Any wife-swapping or match - fixing?' Our organization in question, opposition aside, is an example of good fortune and, very importantly, a success within itself in terms of the scope of equity (I have met black drivers, colored drivers, a charming white lady and even a Russian). In terms of service framework, D.A.D can start challenging other established distribution companies for area coverage and volume (put that it pipe and smoke it, Butlers, not bad for a company which doesn't exactly splash itself across The Yellow Pages). Yet perhaps the most attractive element of D.A.D is the actual service and the style in which it is presented. The drivers I have met are knowledgeable, friendly, charming and, unlike the black-tie-wearing, beetle-driving-bastard who threatened me when I never gave him a tip (I was 13 at the time), seemingly grateful. I have a philosophy that people who drive with their stereos on loud for the whole world to hear (no, loud-loud, so that 'You're my mate' or whatever driving through Green Point can be heard in Baraza) should be treated no different than two male dogs trying to roger each other under the dinner table at a party - with a bucket of cold water or a hose pipe (whenever I hear 'Informer' by Snow, I check the radio to see which DJ deserves a beating - if it's not the radio, then I know it's Paul Adams, driving somewhere near the Hungry Lion outlet in Claremont). Thank goodness nothing like this happens on a D.A.D delivery; the sound of your doorbell ringing amidst an environment of agitated guests whilst you are trying your best not to look like an under-catering prick is harmony within it's own sweet action. The entrance into the back of the kitchen is discreet, the driver waits patiently for the money and before you know it, you've saved your precious reputation as a good host from damage. *Marcus, *Keegan and *Lincoln were justifiably reserved in letting the facts out. I could not get answers for questions about their biggest deliveries or closest calls. Nothing about tips or strange requests either. One has to recognize that this remains an illegal operation, and whilst their story sits in between inspiration and madness, one has to respect their anonymity and discretion. However, the story is almost romantic in it's start - from conceptualization until the point we are now - even if we never heard the accurate history, we could do just as well making their story up in our own minds. Any way you look at it - a small group of people starting an illegal operation, highly dangerous with opposition not only from the police but from community groups (and dogs) - having overcome the initial barrier of becoming established, but not too established is an achievement our thieving banker businessmen could learn from; if you want to do something illegal, keep it above the waist and out of the piggy banks of retirement villages or government budgets. The last time I ordered I noticed that the success was beginning to show. Not in arrogant and flashy ways, but in the sense that whatever earnings were made were injected right back into the maintenance of the business. Sunglasses upon the charming lady driver were now Christian Dior as opposed to no-names (the sun can be merciless in a Cape Town summer), the car was better and faster than any one I had seen (firstly, some of the areas of delivery are dodgy and, secondly, police wagons are slow, but not that slow) and the cooler unit in the boot had increased in size. Even if the previous evaluations are irrelevant, the effort in keeping the product cold cannot go unnoticed. Such a simple and transparent operation is executed with finesse and attention to detail. One of the funniest men in the world has to be Nöel Godin - Belgium' s celebrated 'Pied-Sniper' and the man who has thrown cake in the faces of Bill Gates, the self-proclaimed 'greatest writer of my generation' Bernard-Henri Lévy and American television evangelist, Jerry O'Dell to name but a few. I quote, "When we start judging everything on a daily basis, we are already taking ourselves to seriously. The substances of marijuana and alcohol and the presence of porn and nudity are now issues that we must accept as normal in order to save ourselves from permanent pessimism. There are far worse things to worry about." Brother Dave from Sun Valley Parish, here ends the lesson. Running out of alcohol at your own party is as embarrassing as it is as hard to believe, especially when the sun has not even set. I have seen this provoke some disturbing behavior, no different to that of our Sports Minister when he does not get his daily truckload of Eskort pork sausages; bored and arrogant. Like television continuity presenters, there is actually no reason why the organization should exist. But there-in lies the answer; it's just one of those crazy, adorable luxuries which life presents to the lucky few who find them. On behalf of 2oceans.com, we thank you for your insight, your efforts and your consistency. Just a little thought; if you own that youngster who was caught in Fish Hoek, buy him a pair of trainers. Buffalo boots, although rated highly in terms of criminal credibility, aren't exactly ideal getaway shoes. In fact, he should have been thrown in jail just for wearing them. Never-the-less, our second and final equation - service+manners=success - may you have many more years of it.

Simon Reader is a producer and consultant for a South African communications company. He intends to complete his first novel within the next year.The views of the writer are his own and may not be supported by the website- Editor

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