A human right? Say what?
My inbox, yesterday: a mailer from a well-known local shoe retailer, declaring (on the eve of Human Rights Day, of course) that it is my human right to own fabulous shoes. I nearly destroyed a perfectly beautiful iMac by hurling my coffee cup at the screen. Good grief. I’m a fan of said retailer (well, I used to be, until they Marie-Antoinetted themselves out of my address book) and of shoes, certainly, it cannot be denied. But a human right? I don’t know that I’ve felt that offended all year. I really don’t think I have to put too fine a point on this. Except possibly to remind anybody who needs reminding that the reason we celebrate Human Rights Day on 21 March in this country, is that on this day in 1960, 69 people died at the hands of the then South African Police Force in Sharpeville, Transvaal (now Gauteng). Shoes had sweet blow-all to do with it then, and they have sweet blow-all to do with it now. Although I do wonder whether Julius Malema might not agree with the shoe peddlers who shall remain nameless. Because I did notice him sporting a lovely pair of Louis Vuitton loafers on his Carte Blanche interview of the other day. Let them eat cake.
