Letters

Dear Editor


Stains on Stein

I read the story about Carl Stein and his misfortune at Werksmans with interest.

It couldn’t have happened to a nicer chap! After a disastrous first marriage when he cheated on his wife, he entered politics. He accepted nomination by the PFP and was elected the party’s Johannesburg city councillor for Killarney, a ward that for years had been the backbone of Helen Suzman’s Houghton constituency.

As their new city councillor, it took Stein just short of a year to alienate the voters of Killarney. (He couldn't be bothered with calls from little old ladies about problems with the council.)

When the PFP finally managed to get him to resign his seat, it was lost to an independent at the subsequent by-election.

The leopard never changes its spots and I can’t imagine Stein changed his attitude to his fellow human beings.

Call that the Gang of Six
Cape Town


Load of balls

I am writing anonymously because I feel very strongly about how someone near and dear to me has been mistreated in a business deal by a notorious businessman in Cape Town.

I know this businessman socially and am aware of how he boasts of his crooked dealings. It really upset me when I recently learned that my friend was threatened out of a business by him and lost a lot of money. I feel it unfair that he should get away with it again and again because no-one has the balls to expose his shady dealings.

He is Dave McKay of Constantia Uitsig.

I hope you have the balls.

[no name supplied]

A bit cheeky, your challenge on the question of balls, don’t you think, when you yourself clearly have none? For the record: while we are prepared to withhold the identity of sources, we don’t generally publish letters from anyone whose identity is not known to us. Anyway, Mr McKay, now you know: someone in your social circle is out to shop and/or defame you. – Ed.


Long Palm of the law

When reading your report on the theft of a container of cigarettes from a bonded warehouse (“Smoke gets in your eyes”, nose81), I came upon the name of investigating officer Sergeant Palm – and my blood ran cold.

When still young and eager, I went into business with some friends I had met at work. Through our lack of experience, the business failed and we went our separate ways.

A few weeks later, I was on the way to have my car fixed when my fiancé called to say that some cops were at the house wanting to ask me a few questions. Having nothing to stress about, I asked if they could collect me as my car was immobilised. That’s when I first met Inspector Rodney Palm of Kempton Park police station.

They took me through to my employer’s head office to ask me a few questions. Within minutes they were accusing me of being party to a huge fraud within the company. A certain “friend” at this company had apparently been caught defrauding the company and had said that I was the mastermind of a plan to defraud it of R1.5-million!

Imagine my surprise! My fiancé and I weren’t exactly living the high life. After being badgered and aggressively questioned for over three hours, I was allowed to leave.

Unknown to me, this “friend” and Inspector Palm were working hand in hand.

In the months that followed I was mentally raped by the police system! My parents had to take out a second mortgage to pay for a lawyer. All to prove my innocence.

For nearly a year, Palm called to threaten me with the years that I would spend in jail: he added a year for every time that I insisted that I was innocent; he called me the day before Christmas to say that he was coming to collect me so that I would spend my Christmas in jail “where I belonged”, and again, the day before New Year. This time he even said that he would spend his New Year toasting me from his new jacuzzi with champagne, all of which he had financed from my little episode (his words). Terrified, my fiancé and I packed clothes, took our puppy and disappeared to friends for a few weeks, Palm next called the day before my birthday in January – to threaten me yet again.

Whenever he called my lawyer and I to Kempton Park police station for yet another “meeting”, he’d wait for my lawyer to be busy and then again threaten me with jail. He had me finger-printed three times. (In the process, he’d insist on showing me the cells and tell me that that was where I would be, shortly.)

What got me about your article was not only his name, but also the fact that he lost that docket! He also lost my docket – which contained all my official papers – just to make life even more difficult for me.

After what seemed a lifetime, I arrived at the Kempton Park court one day to hear that the woman who was trying to implicate me in her case had ended up as state witness – against Inspector Rodney Palm! I walked out of that court, knowing nothing more than that. I never had any real closure. For years I was terrified of answering the phone in case it was HIM.

Now I can’t help but smile when I think that the man that abused his position for pleasure and monetary gain has been reduced to being a garden hand. Gosh, I love karma!

Rechelle Hutt
Johannesburg


Genetic enslavement

Your article “Rammed down our throats”, way back in nose71, left me with a feeling of dread for the future.

Monsanto and their ilk making light of people’s right to make informed choices, and actively using their wealth to not only silence the voice oftruth and reason, but ultimately to hold the world to ransom by eventually owning the rights to all staple foods, is an act worthy of the same sentence they wish to dole out to humankind.

People do not understand that, once all staple foods are genetically modified, there will no longer be a free world. People will no longer be able to plant a few mealies in their yards or grow their own veggies without Monsanto suing.

Never mind the health risks.

Please expand on this article as an aid to enlightening the South African public, who have suffered information repression for so long.

Adrienne Addinall-Kokkas
Midrand

Monsanto is already suing SA farmers for selling their maize crops for seed. – Ed.

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