In the news today, there's a lot that's not happening...
A SOLITARY fish shot across the huge tank, banked sharply, then screeched to a halt, seeming to peer out through the glass in our direction.
"Piranha," whispered Alan Dunn, editor of the Pretoria News. "If you don't talk, they push your face in."
We were interrupted by the Big Boer, Independent Newspapers Gauteng MD Deon du Plessis. "Ja, boys. It's the electrified fish tank," he guffawed.
Above our heads, dead seagulls hovered -- silent testimony to the taxidermist's art. Up on the boat, a bartender busily polished glasses.
The place is Die Suidooster, known to the natives simply as The Boat. This is the bar of the National Intelligence Agency at their Cape Town office.
We were there for cocktails with minister Joe Nhlanhla and his team. And, it seemed, so were most of the media.
The minister was not there to make any announcement. He was merely throwing open the doors of the house of spooks for a couple of hours of off-the-record schmoozing.
Unbelievable.
This is, after all, the first session of Parliament under the new constitution of the new South Africa. This is a government that has pledged to transparency.
Even so, opening up the doors of the Intelligence headquarters and allowing the press to mingle freely with staffers does not happen anywhere else in the world.
It underscored what Independent Newspapers' Irish owner, Tony O'Reilly, had said the week before. We are living in the midst of a miracle.
In spite of the terrifying levels of crime, this country which so recently was at war with itself is becoming... normal.
So the relationship between the press and government has changed. We are no longer openly hostile. As one of us put it, we are in a state of armed truce. But we are trying to get to know each other, to get a better understanding of the personalities behind the titles.
So we had lunch with Ronnie Kasrils, cocktails with Joe Nhlanhla, dinner with Valli Moosa, morning coffee with Derek Hanekom, mid-morning snacks with Pallo Jordan, a pre-lunch chat with Frene Ginwala, lunch with Kader Asmal, cocktails with Aziz Pahad, dinner with Mac Maharaj, breakfast with Sydney Mufamadi, coffee with Stella Sigcau, lunch with FW de Klerk and Roelf Meyer, and dinner with Tito Mboweni.
In between, I stopped by parliament to listen to President Mandela's response to the debate over his state of the nation address.
The public galleries were half full. Visitors were warmly welcomed by efficient security guards with none of the paranoia of the apartheid years.
The old man entered to a standing ovation. He spoke with calm, quiet dignity, and conviction. Of the fact that KwaZulu Natal was no longer a battleground. That hit-squads and forced removals and detentions were no longer with us. That this country could call itself a nation.
Even when he stopped to chide the leader of the opposition, he gestured towards him kindly, referring to "my friend, Mr De Klerk".
And Mangosuthu Buthelezi, leader of Inkatha, seemed to echo the tone of the president's speech by bowing respectfully towards Mandela as he entered.
None of the ministers claimed to have all the answers. But they did have definite plans for the future.
Plans not obscured by ideological baggage. Plans which are realistic, and even exciting.
We left Cape Town with a general feeling of optimism. The armed truce will hold for now.
But we'll be watching.