Sweet enough without the sugar – savouring life as a diabetic
It’s why grocery shopping is a minefield. It’s why watching the cooking channel can be torturous. It’s why I stood in a queue for more than five hours to get my first COVID-19 vaccine. Hi. I’m Gillian, and I have Type 2 diabetes.
In all my years of visiting my dear family doctor, I never thought I’d be swearing in his office. Not at him, mind you, but within his earshot. When you’re a committed chocoholic and your doctor tells you that you have diabetes, I think it’s a justifiable reaction. That and crying. But all he did, as I immediately apologised, is adjust his yarmi and give me a look of genuine empathy.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a sweet tooth. It’s become somewhat of a running joke that when it comes to my eating habits, I’m a bit of an overgrown kid. I only eat white bread. I’ve been known to hide in the pantry eating chocolate slabs so my children can’t find me to claim a block. Fanta Grape is one of my favourite beverages. I’ve even made my husband bring me back a slice of icing-laden birthday cake from more than one kiddie birthday party that I’ve missed. And as for much of the vegetable family, let’s just say we haven’t always been on the best of terms.
I’ve also never been much of a fitness fundi. Running – and I use the word loosely – up and down the stairs after my kids has pretty much summed up my exercise regimen for the past few years. In my younger days, I was blessed with a fantastic metabolism. And although it’s slowed down, especially in my 30s, the fact that I’m quite tall has always been an advantage when it comes to weight gain. Breastfeeding my two sons was a great slimming tool as well. So, although I may have put on a few kilos here and there, I’m lucky enough never to have had a serious weight problem. That’s why indulging in some unhealthy cravings was never much of a problem. Or so I thought.
You’d think that with all these bad habits, I’d have anticipated diabetes. But while my diet and inactivity undoubtedly played a part, even the doctors were slightly puzzled. I wasn’t excessively overweight; I have no family history of diabetes – which is often the case with sufferers; I didn’t have gestational diabetes during either of my pregnancies; and my sugar levels a year before my diagnosis were completely normal. I was also 37 when I was diagnosed last year, and those at the greatest risk for Type 2 diabetes are 45 and over. Yet, here we are.
Obviously developing diabetes – a noted COVID-19 comorbidity – in the thick of the pandemic was a real concern. But what I found far more difficult to handle were the lifestyle changes I was forced to make. When it comes to diabetes, medication isn’t enough. You have to cut out sugar, lose the unhealthy carbs and fats, load up on the veggies, and exercise regularly. For me, it was a struggle. To be honest, it often still is.
These kinds of changes don’t happen seamlessly. The few months that followed my diagnosis were an emotional rollercoaster. Coming off sugar was incredibly hard. Sugar withdrawal – it’s a real thing – came with weeks of headaches, bloating, cravings, and depression. My regular pick-me-up when I’m feeling down or stressed, namely chocolate, wasn’t an option. I remember resentfully munching carrots, slamming them into hummus and fighting back tears, while others at a small party we attended enjoyed bulkas and cupcakes.
While my instinct as a journalist is to do loads of research, I’ve basically banned myself from reading too much about the disease. In the early days, when I started delving into all the possible risks that come with diabetes, I’d panic. I quickly abandoned a book that spoke of how the diagnosis was once a death sentence – even though that’s clearly no longer the case, thank G-d. So, while I’m far from ignorant, I’m not overloaded with information either. For me, protecting my mental health has been almost as important as managing my physical health.
With the support of amazing family and friends, I’ve somehow managed to adjust. I go for walks and do exercise videos, sometimes with my boys jumping enthusiastically by my side – always a bonus. I always add veggies to lunch and supper. I generally only drink water. I’ve found healthier alternatives for some of my favourite foods. If you’re looking for a graded list of sugar-free chocolate brands, I’m your girl. I can fit into jeans I haven’t worn for a decade – one of the few welcome side effects. I’m glad I’m healthier.
But let’s not kid ourselves. Almost a year on, this lifestyle still doesn’t come naturally to me. I sometimes skip the exercise. I allow myself a sugary indulgence – or two – on weekends, and relish each bite like never before. I’m not trying to be the perfect example of how to handle diabetes. I know I’ll never be. But I’m trying my best.
And it’s paying off. At a recent visit to my endocrinologist, a year after my diagnosis, my tests revealed that my overall sugar levels are back within normal range. The diet and exercise are here to stay but I’m in a much better position than I was a year ago. As I prepare to enter 2022 with my beloved family, I know my life is sweet enough without the sugar – bar the occasional bulka.
Community acts to resolve Hebrew teaching crisis
Teaching our children Hebrew is one of the things that truly sets Jewish education apart, and it’s a driving factor in the decision to send children to Jewish schools. But the subject is facing significant challenges.
Jewish schools in the Western Cape have been the most severely affected, and their counterparts in Johannesburg aren’t far behind. The problem isn’t limited to South Africa – experts say it’s a dilemma facing diaspora communities worldwide.
Geoff Cohen, Jewish identity and community director at United Herzlia Schools in Cape Town, confirms that “one of the biggest challenges we face as a Jewish school in Cape Town is the scarcity of Hebrew teachers. The Jewish community has been shrinking, and this has had an effect on the number of Hebrew educators available to teach in our schools.
“Many of our existing Hebrew teachers have returned to Israel, and there are very few options for our community to study Hebrew at South African tertiary institutions. The pool of Hebrew teachers in South Africa is decreasing, and all Jewish schools seem to be in a similar predicament. Colleagues at Jewish schools in English-speaking countries around the world have indicated that they, too, are facing similar challenges.”
Thankfully, the South African Jewish community has taken the first steps to remedy the situation, as 20 Hebrew teachers from around the country started an Advanced Hebrew Training Course through The Academy of Jewish Thought and Learning. The course is powered by Middlebury College in Vermont, the leading programme in the world on how to teach English speakers Hebrew as a second language.
“Two of our teachers have just started the Advanced Hebrew Training Course,” says Cohen. “Another solution could be to bring teachers from Israel, but this is costly and there are often cultural challenges. A different solution is to look at online Hebrew curricula that could possibly use expert teachers in other cities or even other countries.”
Rabbi Ricky Seeff, the director of the South African Board of Jewish Education, says, “One of the things King David has tried is to bring shlichim – teachers who come for three years or a bit more and work in our system. They’re Israelis, they’re teachers, and we bring them out to teach, particularly the senior grades. But it’s expensive and presents challenges in finding the right people.
“So thankfully, we’ve recently engaged with The Academy to start creating a pipeline. We are taking local South African talent who understand Hebrew and training them so that they can teach. At the same time, we’re giving some Israelis in the system proper teaching degrees and contributing to their learning.”
In spite of the challenges, “King David’s results and the amount of kids taking Hebrew is still outstanding,” says Seeff. “Hebrew forms the core of so much of what we do, so we’re committed to finding a sustainable solution into the future.”
The Academy course is possibly the first formal step in decades taken by the South African Jewish community to professionalise teaching Hebrew as a subject.
“South Africa is one of the few diaspora communities where there are no communal structures in place to train teachers and leaders entering the Jewish education system, specifically Jewish Studies and Hebrew,” says Rabbi Ramon Widmonte, the dean of The Academy. “Various structures existed in the past, but for various reasons, they were discontinued. The net result is that, particularly over the past 20 years, there has been no programming directed towards Hebrew or Jewish Studies, both for teaching the subjects or for leadership.”
“Hebrew has been worst hit,” says Widmonte, “There was a surge of immigrants from Israel to South Africa in the 1980s and 1990s, and many of those people became leaders in Hebrew teaching. However, many of them are at an advanced age and immigrants are no longer coming. This has led to a significant shortage of Hebrew teachers. In some places in South Africa, far fewer children are taking Hebrew as a matric subject.”
“Our community relies on Jewish education in our school systems to ensure continuity,” Widmonte says. “But without attracting qualified, capable Hebrew teachers and training them, it’s simply not going to happen. We need to make it a priority. Until now, schools had no way to recruit new Hebrew teachers.
“The upskilling process includes professionalising the Jewish education space, and ensuring that South Africa has degrees and qualifications applying to teachers in these fields. Until now, South Africa has never had a Postgraduate Certificate in Education in Hebrew and Jewish Studies. From August this year, a local teachers’ college will offer it,” Widmonte says.
Widmonte says many schools have come on board. “They realise the need to search for solutions. If we don’t act now, we simply won’t have any Hebrew teachers. So we need to professionalise and recruit. Within a year, we’ll see a major difference, please G-d.”
Finally, there will be continual professional development so that the quality of Hebrew education will remain high.
All this requires funding, and Widmonte is grateful to “visionary donors” who realised this need and are supporting these ventures.
Teachers have also reacted positively. “They have been the most worried about who will replace them and how to improve,” Widmonte says. “Every teacher has come on board with tremendous vigour and energy. They know how important this is.
“Hebrew is an identity marker and a door opener to participate in Jewish life: religious, traditional, and Israeli,” he says. “It allows you to read and participate in shul, lead the Pesach seder, or haggle on the streets of Tel Aviv. It’s one of the ‘binding factors’ of our Jewish community. A lack of Hebrew makes our children uncomfortable in shuls, and strangers in Israel. It would undermine their Jewish identity.”
He dreams of taking this even further, of Jewish children learning Hebrew at a young age at the same time as they learn to speak their mother tongue.
Widmonte believes the community should view this as a “sea-change moment” – a time to invest in infrastructure that underpins our schools. “Our kids should rave about their Hebrew and Jewish Studies teachers. We shouldn’t be prepared to accept any less.”
Locked Upside Down reopens theatre for business
The Theatre on the Square finally reopens with Locked Upside Down, an almost wholly Jewish cast and crew bringing us a revue on living in the time of COVID-19 in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. The SA Jewish Report speaks to Alan Swerdlow, the director of the show.
This is the first production in the revamped Theatre on the Square. What does that mean to you and your cast?
A theatre lives only when there’s an audience seated, watching, and engaging with a performance, and the act of performance is a reflection and recreation of experiences. For the general public, the past two years have been a time of deprivation from the communal shared experience of attending live shows, but I don’t think the public at large is aware just how devastating the impact of COVID-19 has been on the entertainment industry.
For two years, everyone connected with that industry has been effectively denied the chance of making a living – from stage hands, ushers, ticket sellers, to stage technicians, writers, composers, musicians, designers, performers, directors, and producers. Worldwide, the profession has been effectively gutted, with severe consequences for everyone connected with it.
For us to be the first production in the Theatre on the Square is unbelievably thrilling and inspirational as we help to bring a theatre back to life. Theatre is an act of community, and the pandemic paused or distorted all communal engagement, yet here we are, extending a hand to our community and actually looking into their eyes.
How would you describe this production?
It’s a revue, a reflection of the pandemic experience through songs, sketches, monologues, and dialogue, and like all revues, it’s funny, satirical, sometimes more heartfelt and emotional, and contemplative. It’s thematic rather than narrative, but at its heart, it’s story-telling, which is the oldest and most enduring performance – from grannies telling bedtime stories to the grandest, glitziest entertainment.
Who wrote the play and why? How was it put together?
The revue has been written by Sharon Spiegel-Wagner and Lorri Strauss. Their frustration during the “time of COVID” led to a lot of introspection and an overwhelming desire to create something, even if its ultimate realisation on a stage in front of an audience was uncertain.
Once the entire production team had been assembled, creative input came from everyone, and as director, I helped shape the sketches and monologues.
This is one of the first COVID-19 lockdown productions in South Africa. Why do you think it’s important to write about this time?
Everyone is desperate to laugh at what they have been through these past two years. If we laugh in recognition of our demons, we reduce the impact and fear.
Theatre has always been a reflection of what it is to be human, and reflects the experiences of the watching audience even if it’s not immediately and obviously the individual, personal experience.
Empathy and understanding is a major part of shared experiences, and it’s often in a theatre where that empathy and understanding is to be found. At this time, we all need to let off some steam.
What issues do you touch on that we have dealt with as a community under lockdown?
There are issues large and small that everyone has dealt with, but it’s the small ones that are often forgotten first. So, particularly for parents, all the difficulties of juggling home life during lockdown come to the fore. With the home suddenly becoming office, school, nursing home, lecture hall, factory, and what-have-you, it was turned upside down and was anything but the nurturing refuge we like to think of home as being.
Zoom Calls, social distancing, online learning for kids, online shopping, lack of face-to-face contact, compulsive sanitising, expanding our cooking skills (when we couldn’t go to restaurants), being in a confined space and learning how to share it, and lots more – we’re hoping that the audience will recognise these themes and realise that they weren’t alone.
You have a predominantly Jewish cast. Does that mean there are Jewish-isms throughout? Give us some examples to look out for.
Because both Lorri and Sharon are “nice Jewish girls”, they wrote from their own experience, so the entire show is suffused with a Jewish neshomah that I think any Jewish audience will recognise.
There are all sorts of hints and passing references to things like the Jewish Mommies WhatsApp groups to the competitiveness of some parents in things like home-schooling and bread baking.
Tell us about your cast and what makes them bring the characters to life?
Both Sharon and Lorri have lived the experience of mommies with demanding children during lockdown and coped with it in their own way, and Cathrine brings her experience of a singleton living through lockdown. It’s real, immediately recognisable, and the audience can identify with it.
What will make this production memorable?
Being able to be part of one of the first shared experiences of a live performance in a theatre in Johannesburg is memorable enough, but there’s also some glorious singing and some sharp, witty observations about the way we live now. I think the relief that people will feel at “I wasn’t the only one reacting like that” will be palpable.
What type of audience will appreciate it, and what should they be prepared for?
Anyone who has been through the past two years will find that the show resonates with them and they should be prepared for some good laughs, some nostalgia, a few home truths, and the sheer joy of being back in a theatre watching people do what they do best.
As actors, directors, and entertainers, how have you all managed lockdown in South Africa?
I won’t lie – it has been really, really tough. But lockdown has given us one gift, the gift of time to reset, reflect, consider, and find new ways of harnessing our creative impulses. There has been a lot of writing, philosophising, acquisition of new skills, and the sorting out of priorities – in addition to the cleaning out of cupboards, learning to sort laundry properly, and keeping a sourdough starter alive.
What impact has it had on your personal lives?
As mentioned, we’ve had the chance to sort out our priorities and discover resilience out of necessity. Having one of the most important things in our lives taken away from us gave us a new appreciation for what it is that we love – our creative expression. For me personally, it was learning not to take anything for granted ever again.
- “Locked Upside Down”, starring Sharon Spiegel-Wagner, Lorri Strauss, and Cathrine Hopkins will be at Theatre on the Square from 9 to 26 February. Tickets are available at computicket.com or contact 083 377 4969 or 011 883 8606.
Exercise and a good marriage: tips from world’s oldest gym instructor
Meish Jaffe is probably the oldest gym instructor in South Africa and at 97 years of age, possibly the oldest in the world.
A resident of Jaffa, the Jewish retirement home in Pretoria, Jaffe introduced his fitness regime soon after he came to the home four years ago. His exercises are specifically designed to meet the needs of older people with varying levels of physical activity and mobility.
Jaffe has another remarkable achievement to his name, one he shares with his wife, Bella, (92). They have been married for almost 72 years.
They have known each other since they were young children in Rosettenville in the south of Johannesburg, where Bella Aronowitz was born.
Jaffe hails from London’s East End. He was three when his family came to South Africa in 1927.
His grandparents had moved to Cape Town from London many years earlier with their children. At the age of 20, his father decided he wanted to see the world, which he did by joining the merchant navy. He finally settled in London after meeting his wife there, returning with his new family to South Africa a few years later, settling in La Rochelle, a suburb bordering on Rosettenville.
Jaffe often went to Bella’s home when his father had his regular klaberjass game with Bella’s father.
He was fascinated by the people he met through Bella’s father, a shoemaker, focusing on one specific product.
“The Turffontein Racecourse was right next door,” Jaffe explains. “He specialised in making upmarket boots for jockeys. We got to know all of them, like Tiger Wright and others.”
He and Bella parted ways for a time after they attended different high schools, and he left school at the end of his junior certificate year, to use the old terminology, (Grade 10 today).
He then qualified as a panel beater. After a few years, he went to Durban, where he worked repairing ships.
“I wrote to her from Durban, but she didn’t answer me. So I went back to Joburg,” he says in his matter-of-fact manner. “After a while, we got together. She realised that I was the right guy for her, and that’s the story.” They were married in the South Eastern Hebrew Congregation shul in Rosettenville on 25 June 1950.
Sometime later, with Bella also working as a bookkeeper and shorthand typist, he decided to open a panel beating shop in Germiston. After operating successfully for six years, he lost everything after making some poor investments.
His brother, Henry Jaffe, who lived in Pretoria, insisted that Jaffe, Bella, and their three small children, Brian, Neil, and Caron, come to Pretoria to stay with him until they could get back on their feet.
Moving in with Henry for about three months in 1960 proved a turning point in their lives. Jaffe raised the money to buy a shop in the Pretoria central business district, which he ran for six years.
Then, 45 years ago, he bought the business which has remained in the family ever since, Valhalla General Dealers. At the time, “it sold everything from bicycle parts to ladies’ panties”, Jaffe says. “I threw everything out, and turned it into a hardware store.”
The business expanded over the years into several adjoining shops, and Jaffe bought the entire property.
Jaffe and Bella retired in 2000 to live permanently in their holiday flat in Umhlanga. Their sons, Neil and Brian, who had joined the business early on, took over from their father and their grandson, Craig, also now works there.
They moved into Jaffa when Jaffe was 84. “But I wasn’t ready for it,” he says, so they moved back to Umhlanga, returning to Jaffa finally when he was 93 and Bella was 88.
They are both happy at Jaffa. “I would say Jaffa is the best Jewish old-age home in the country,” he says.
It didn’t take long for him to start his exercise classes at Jaffa, eventually taking them three times a week. He is the oldest in the group, with several in their nineties and others in their eighties and seventies.
“They are getting fitter now,” he says, “exercise improves their flexibility and mobility”.
Their recipe for a good marriage? Bella says simply, “Just listen to your husband.”
“I married the right partner,” Jaffe says. “We’ve never had an argument of real foundation. We’ve had a very good marriage. We’ve got three children, eight grandchildren, and 11 great-grandchildren.”
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