One more

Only one more day left of 2011. It seems that at the end of every year, every one reflects on the past 365 days and says how quickly it has passed. We live year for year, with each 1st of January providing an excuse to reassess our lives and our choices, making resolutions to change and to better ourselves in newer years.

I am not one for resolutions because I don't know what I want. Silly things like losing weight or finding a husband or studying harder are not life changes. If a resolution is to be made, it should be one that you carry with you for the rest of your life. Something that not only benefits yourself, something that makes the world a better place.

Here are a few suggestions:

Be kind to everyone. Cashiers in SA seem to have signed a contract that prohibits them from being efficient workers and friendly to customers. But whatever. Kill them with kindness.

Don't be scared to meet new people. When I started at university, I had my friends from school and was not open to engaging with any of the other students because after all, I had just come back from EUROPE and was infinitely superior and I had my crew of BFFs, so I did not need anyone new in my life. Big mistake. One year later, all my old friends had migrated overseas or friendships had changed and I was a rather lonely and less arrogant person. It takes time to make friends, but after this year, I am so glad to have gotten to know many of my fellow students better. Also, friendship is a reciprocal thing and needs to be nurtured in order to grow. I like to think that my friends like me as much as I like them.

Don't judge. Joh ja, this is one of my character flaws. I judge people from the second I see them. But I remember one incident from working at Disneyland : a group of us was sweeping the area and cleaning out the dustbins when a Dutch lady with her daughter walked past, pointed at us (we were hard to miss thanks to an abominable costume of camel-toe inducing turquoise pants with a yellow strip down the side and chequered yellow-turquoise shirts) and told her daughter that she would become like us if she did not do her homework. Because of my Afrikaans I understood what she was saying, and it became clear to me that often we think wrongly of people who do menial jobs. All of the workers there were college students. I think we often judge people on appearances and on their jobs before even knowing their story. I sure am guilty of it.

Volunteer.  This is a bit hypocritical because I don't volunteer. I am always saying how I would like to and making up all of these excuses. Bottom line is, if you can and have the time, rather help out somewhere than to watch another episode of House M.D. You know, my people skills aren't so great, but reading to the elderly I could do. Or helping someone with learning a language. I don't know. This is kind of a resolution I would want to make and keep without labelling it.

To be honest, I am not sure about this post. I wanted to be all inspirational and start a movement to flippen SAVE THE WORLD and make everyone happy. But the truth is we are all caught up in our little lives and I don't think there is a collective will to have a world of peace and unity. I mean, most of the time I am thinking about what I could eat for pudding and what book to read next and what to do for New Year's Eve, and not about how we are all equal and should save our planet.

Life itself is gone

"It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop. Growth is exciting; growth is dynamic and alarming. Growth of the soul, growth of the mind. "

- Vita Sackville-West

Long

This is a mash-up of two long exposures I did while in Wilderness. The little light stripe on the right is from two people walking on the beach with a torch. I think there are too many light sources from the houses and the hotel close by. On the farm there is no electricity and no houses nearby, so the long exposures of the stars come out a lot more impressively.

I will change the design of the blog in the new year, sorry that it is a bit lame-o at the moment.

Useful

via Photojojo

This is a nifty little tripod replacement that you can pop onto almost any bottle. It has a rubber at the bottom that stretches over the bottle cap and can rotate 340° and swivel at 15° in every direction. You won't be able to pop your DSLR onto it, but I think it is quite a handy gadget for people who don't have the money to spend on a "real" tripod just for their little digital cameras.

Also on Photojojo

A time for giving

Since returning to Pretoria on Friday after driving for three days ( we had to fetch our grandmother in Jeffrey's Bay and then stop over on the farm in the Free State where she grew up to see my cousin) the focus has been on preparing for the Christmas celebration. We celebrate on the 24th where the family will go to church, have dinner together and then spend the rest of the evening opening the presents. This year, just my family celebrated on Christmas Eve, and then we had guests for the 25th. 

Today was the first day of rest. But because my grandmother likes to keep busy, she was rearranging my mother's cupboards and therefore my sister and I did the same with our rooms. When cleaning up our closets we also clean them out and decide what can be given away and what we will still wear. I have a lot of clothes and shoes and bags and scarves. I have a lot of stuff. Even if I gave half of it away, I would still have more than enough. We take our old clothes to the farm or my mom will donate it to people she has met while on the road as a tour guide who can use it. 

It is very difficult for me to grasp what it means to be poor. We are not rich, but we have all that we need and are privileged to have received an excellent education. But seeing people on the streets begging or the farm workers who have not had the same opportunities, I wonder if South Africa will ever be able to establish its society as mostly middle-class with only a small margin of poverty and excessive wealth. Perhaps the greatest sin of Apartheid is depriving the majority of the population of a decent education. Thereby, there are entire generations who have not expanded their knowledge and their view on the world, and they can also not instil a desire for improvement in social standing. No one wants to be poor, but it seems that most people also don't have the means or the knowledge to escape it. 

I read a German article about a social experiment where the journalist and an actress went to the town where the richest people in Germany have settled and disguised themselves as beggars in order to see if the rich will give to the poor. In the article it is cited that testing by the american psychologist Dacher Keltner, professor at the University of California, showed that the expectation by the poor to be helped by the rich is in fact misconstrued. The richer a person is, the less likely they are of donating. 

Charity is fine if the press is present and the charity on a different continent, preferably in a third-world country like Pakistan or Uganda or Colombia. Also, it seems that poorer people are more inclined to giving because there is a better understanding of the situation and a greater sense of "helping one another". 

I wonder if we are desensitized by being confronted by poverty every time we stop at a traffic light or if it makes us more aware of our own privileged status. Whilst in a township, one of my mother'S tourists turned to her and asked how long they still had to endure being there. Do we at some point see the poor as less deserving, as not hard-working, as lazy, as not deserving of what we have? If rich people instil their children with the same values where money and power trump empathy and compassion, it is no wonder that the world is in a state of chaos. I believe we have lost a sense of being interconnected, of caring for one another. We live in a selfish world and it is no use denying that I am selfish, too. In some way, I could probably be helping all the beggars on the streets or the people that ring our doorbell. 

Perhaps that is a resolution for 2012. Helping more. 

Greetings from the seaside

This is how my dogs roll. 

I hope everyone is having a getting into the holiday spirit and feeling festive. It is a bit ridiculous celebrating Christmas with a turkey and a Christmas tree when it is 35`C outside and you are wearing a summery dress, but after all one needs to reflect on what one is celebrating and for which reasons. I am not very religious and see Christmas more as a celebration of family, unity and peace, as a time to come together and share a meal, as a time to show appreciation for those around us and as a time of charity towards those less fortunate.

Well, this is just a short hello from the seaside, it seems my scheduled posts have worked.

A last goodbye from Spitzi himself:

Letters

Whenever I send an sms or a BBM or a Whatsapp message or an email or a letter, I imagine my words to be a little envelope of me. I see myself being sent, travelling over miles and reaching you in an instant or in a few weeks only. And because some part of me has left, I expect an answer.

Perhaps that is what happens in relationships, in friendships and with far away family members: because we don't communicate effectively, because what I think my little envelope contains is not the same as what you take from it, because we can read something differently from how it was meant, because we do not all think the same way things can get confusing.

When I write a message, I am reading it out loud in my head, stressing certain parts and leaving intonations out at others. But since you cannot read my voice, I don't know how we can effectively communicate, ever.

I am/ was often accused of saying what I think without reflecting on it, of being rude because some things are not meant to be said and of being too sarcastic. It was/is probably true. I am trying to think more about what I say and how it affects others, but then I would expect the same courtesy. It is easy to judge others if one sees no fault in oneself.

Ultimately, I want you to know what I am saying and I want to understand correctly what you mean. Otherwise, what is the point of communicating at all if it is just a jumbling of meaning.

Two times

I understand the concept of double exposures, but I have not held a camera in my hands that can do it. All the analogue ones refuse to take a second picture and the digital ones, well, there is not even the option of not turning the film further.

Here are some images by Dan Mountford. He says they were created 'In camera" and that the colour was edited in photoshop. 

Check out more of his images on the flickr link above or on fubiz. 

Wedding Bells

I have been to three weddings consciously. When I was little, I was a flower girl at my aunt's wedding, in April I went to a friend's wedding and a few weeks back to my great-cousin's. The first one was somewhat of a flop because my mother made my sister's and my dress, but my aunt had failed to convey a specific theme to her and we were dressed in the wrong colours.

During high school, I waitressed on the weekends at a wedding venue, but all it taught me was that I was a poor waitress and that weddings are often strange affairs where people either drink too much and celebrate together, or sit in awkward silence and leave early.

Since the wedding at the beginning of the year was the first one I was invited to, I  was so exited that I bought the present weeks before and had my outfit all planned out. On the day, the mother of the bride turned up late, so everyone had to wait for her to arrive. The guests were seated on five rows of long wooden benches on either side of the aisle underneath beautiful old trees and large white umbrellas. In front of me sat some older ladies and the one smelled distinctly of some fiery chewing gum, you know the red one with cinnamon in it that burns away your taste buds. My black and gold fan from the bachelorette party helped in wafting the scent towards others.

The wedding was held at Kleinkaap, an imitation Cape Colonial venue. The old trees and leaves on the ground reminded me of our garden in Geneva when I was little. We had an enormous, ancient oak tree in the corner and come autumn, the garden was covered in its leaves. Strange how enchanting dead leaves can be. Bach then I was quite allergic to the tree's pollen, so luckily these trees were different and I did not swell up like a party balloon.

During the ceremony, the priest spoke about how a marriage should not be seen as a business transaction or a prison. Although this is true, I doubt anyone ever goes into a marriage thinking: oh well, my life will be hell but I'll have bags of money. Perhaps in arranged marriages in Afghanistan where the girls are 12 and their husbands 40 that is the case (see Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns), but if one considers the typically Western view of marriage as being for love and being a commitment to someone for the rest of one's life, I found the sermon quite misplaced.

For the rest of the wedding, it was very nice, but the different wedding parties did not mix very successfully and some of the older people left after the food was served.

I don't know about all the rules at weddings, but is the main thing not the celebration of a union of love? Often I think people should just keep it a very intimate affair and only invite those people whom they feel will share in their joy. Brides worry too much about whose feelings will be hurt if they are not invited or if someone cannot bring a partner.

My cousin's wedding was great. It was a very Afrikaans wedding, but the place they held it at was lovely, the food was delicious, and above all, everyone was just so happy to celebrate the day with them. My sister and I initially felt a bit out because we are not directly related, but we were placed at the table with our other cousin and his family and they were very embracing. Everyone danced langarm ( long-arm, a type of dance) or just bounced around on the dance floor (my langarm skills need much improvement). The bride and groom also made speeches thanking their parents and various guests and I think in the end, everyone just really enjoyed being there and celebrating the day with them.

I think every wedding should just be a big party in honour of the married ones, and I hope that all future weddings will feel like the photographs on welovepictures.

on welovepictures

Writing well

Here is some advice on writing poetry by Charles Simic, a Serbian-American poet, winner of the Pulitzer Prize in 1990 and Poet Laureate in 2007. I think his advice is applicable to any good writing? When blogging, I am unsure how much one considers one's readership. With smaller blogs it is probably more essential to focus on a specific area and so build up a readership - but with very popular blogs, I wonder if the writers think about what they are posting or if they are just glad 100 000 people are reading it daily. 

Charles Simic on Writing Poetry

A few things to keep in mind while sitting down to write a poem:

1. Don't tell the readers what they already know about life.
2. Don't assume you're the only one in the world who suffers.
3. Some of the greatest poems in the language are sonnets and poems not many lines longer than that, so don't overwrite.
4. The use of images, similes and metaphors make poems concise. Close your eyes, and let your imagination tell you what to do.
5. Say the words you are writing aloud and let your ear decide what word comes next.
6. What you are writing down is a draft that will need additional tinkering, perhaps many months, and even years of tinkering.
7. Remember, a poem is a time machine you are constructing, a vehicle that will allow someone to travel in their own mind, so don't be surprised if it takes a while to get all its engine parts properly working.

I read that everything that is worth doing takes time. I like writing, but I am sure it can be much ameliorated by following some of Simic's advice.

Re-tuned

To spice up the standard Christmas carols that you will probably be hearing in every mall and elevator, here is the link to a free (!!!) download of re-mixed Christmas carols. The originals were sung by Fulka and the remix done right here in Pretoria by Jacob Israel.

Mrs Ball's

At some point, my sister and I stopped splashing tomato sauce over our food and settled on adding Mrs. Ball's Chutney to everything. We go through about one large bottle at least every 3 weeks. It could be a month if she is eating the extra hot version, which I don't like. I prefer the peach or tomato one, but for the sake of peace in the house we both eat the original Mrs Ball's chutney. No other brand will do.

The year we both spent away we would treat ourselves to a bottle ( bought at Galeria Kaufhaus for € 4) and use the tiniest bit. For every day consumption curry-ketchup had to sauce up our meals.

I have never made chutney before because I knew I could never get it to be as good as the store-bought-bottles. But on our way back from visiting the cradle of humankind, we stopped at a padstal ( a road-shop) and bought peaches. They were not very pretty and not very ripe either, so my mom suggested we make chutney.

She has this old Afrikaans book that describes how to preserve any fruit or vegetable imaginable. It also has  different chutney recipes.

Ours combines peaches, onions, sour apples, vinegar, sugar, garlic and sultanas. Also, some cinnamon, ginger and red pepper. It states that one should add sultanas, but I am no fan, so we left them out.

Here are some images:

The ingredients.

Our scale was almost not enough to hold the mass of peaches.

Mincing the fruit. You can see I am not dressed for portraits. 

My mother likes using exaggeratedly large pots.

These are your Christmas presents. 

If you are interested, here is Mrs. Ball's history and here is the link to someone claiming to have the original recipe. I am not so sure. No one can beat the real deal.

See, hier kom ons*

Wilderness

Môre pak ons weer die lang pad aan: my suster, die twee honde, die blou Polo en ek. My koffer is half gepak, die padkos amper ook, die honde se goed staan reg om gelaai te word. So trippie maak my altyd baie opgewonde. Net om bietjie weg te kom, om vir 'n rukkie nie hier te wees nie, nie alles te sien wat mens ken nie, om bietjie mens se oe op ander vlaktes te rus is so lekker.

En Wilderness is altyd lekker.Elkeen doen sy eie ding, elkeen lees sy boek, kyk TV, ons eet in die middae saam buite en drink rustig 'n glasie wyn.. Mens kan net ontspan na 'n jaar van harde werk. In my een boek was daar 'n kort onderhoud met 'n vrou wat in Frankryk in die voedselbedryf werk. Sy het gesê dat dit vir haar belangrik is dat die lewe uitegbalanseer word: na tye van spanning en stress moet mens 'n tydjie hê waar mens net met 'n groot glas rooiwyn op die bank lê en kan ontspan.

So dit is die plan vir die volgende paar weke. Omdat ek daar nie Internet sal hê nie, het ek al 'n paar posts voorgeskryf, dalk werk die ding en hulle post hulself.

Lekker vakansie mense :)


* Sea, here we come

Tomorrow we are driving the long way down to the coast - my sister, our two dogs, the blue Polo and I. My bag is half packed, the snacks for the road as well, die dogs' luggage is ready to be loaded in the car. A trip like this always excites me. Just to get away for a bit, to not be here for a while, to not see everything one knows, to rest one's eyes on different landscapes is so wonderful.

And Wilderness is always great. Everyone does their own thing, reading books or watching TV. For lunchtime we sit outside and drink a glass of wine. One can relax after a busy year. In one of my French books, a lady that works for some pastry-specialist said that it is important for her that her life follows certain rhythms: if it is stressful and hectic at times, one needs a moment to relax on the couch with a big glass of red wine.

So that is the plan for the next few weeks. Because I won't have Internet there, I pre-wrote some posts, lets see if the whole scheduling of it works out.

Enjoy your holidays :)

Snickerdoodles

Just say it : Snickerdoodle. SSSSSSnickerdoooodle. It sounds like something the Moomin's would bake and have for lunch. It is just a basic cookie rolled in cinnamon: perfect for Christmas. Since I can remember, we have been baking cookies for Christmas. When we were little, my mother would make a dough, let us stencil out different shapes with cookie cutters and when they were done, we would decorate them. 

I think it is a German tradition to bake cookies for Christmas and then you distribute little cookie-plates to friends/family/neighbours and in the end you can compare whose cookies are the best. My mother bakes Vanille-Kipferl, Heidesand cookies and something with chocolate. My sister and I then contribute our own favourites or help with my mom's. I like baking different ones each year, so last year Snickerdoodles were it and since we are leaving for the coast on Monday, they were the quickest to make. 

The recipe is adapted from Martha Stewart and smittenkitchen: 

2 3/4 cups flour

2 ts cream of tartar

1 ts baking soda

salt

2 sticks ( = 230g) butter

1 3/4 cups sugar

2 ts cinnamon

2 eggs

Pre-heat your oven to 200°C

Mix the flours, cream of tartar, baking soda and a pinch of salt. 

Add the butter, 11/2 cups of sugar and the eggs. 

Leave the dough in the fridge for an hour to chill. 

Roll the dough into little balls and dip them in the cinnamon-sugar mixture ( combine the cinnamon and the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar). 

Bake the cookies for 12 min. 

My dough was a bit dry this year, so I added a swig of milk, and I forgot to turn the heat up to 200°C, so they took a bit longer. Also, mine remain quite compact and don't spread like those in the images on the different websites, but they still taste like Christmas :)

Carry Me

Still one of my favourite songs.

Mal(l)

"Mal" means to be crazy in Afrikaans. Today my mom, sister and I braved Menlyn shopping centre, because we are leaving for the coast on Monday and won't have time otherwise. It is always a somewhat insane environment to be in : the epitome of consumerism, sheltered from any thing that happens on the outside and filled to the brim with people intent on buying buying buying.

Normally, my mom takes us out individually, but today, due to lack of time, we had to go together. I hate it because my sister and I have different shopping styles. She wants someone to tell her what looks good and what doesn't and to constantly comment on her choices. She has often told me that I am not the sister she would have wanted, because she wants someone to share clothes and shoes with.

Well, we don't wear the same size, and I don't want any one to help me. I want to go in, try what has caught my eye on, and if it doesn't look right, I'll be moving along swiftly. Finding clothes that fit well is great, but if you don't, it is no tragedy either. So, we do not make great shopping companions, and my mother gets caught in the middle, patiently waiting outside changing rooms and trying to accommodate us both.

My sister also does this thing where she buys something and then has to buy other somethings that fit with it. For instance, if you were to buy a dress, and then say that you have no shoes that go with it in order to buy new shoes as well.

Again, I don't do that, which causes more friction. I buy things that will fit with what I have. I don't know how people can enjoy shopping? I enjoy finding something, not the journey through shop after shop and spending hours in centres that mirror a perfect, isolated little world. This year, one of our themes was malls and how they manage space to influence shoppers. Next time you go to a mall, look to see if there are any windows, any clocks, any reference to a real world just beyond the walls.

When we got home, I hung up my new clothes only to realize I have quite a lot of them already. It is always nice to have something new and every one wants to look good, but I am wondering how much the upper-middle class loses perspective in relation to what they have as opposed to people with a lower income. We ( me included) focus so much on what we want, what we feel we deserve, because after all, we work hard for it.

At the moment, the COP17 climate conference is happening in Durban. In the news they said that at the conference, the top 1% is representing the other 99%, but only focussing on their own best interests. My mother told me about how people are living in Langa, a township in Cape Town. To them, climate change and greenhouse gases and the Kyoto protocol has no importance, because they are worried where their next meal will come from and whether they will be able to support their families.

How can we go and justify spending so much money on so many insignificant things when the world is at need? On the one hand, I also want to buy my family something nice and have them be overjoyed when they open my present, but it does not feel right for us to indulge when other people have nothing.

Now, my question is, how do you balance this? How do you celebrate Christmas without feeling guilty for what you have? I mean, I am often quite ungrateful for what I am given. I think we all take things for granted  because to us they are an part of everyday life. I don't know how to change this either. Living more conscientiously? Volunteering? Donating? Giving something to eat to the newspaper-man that comes around on Tuesdays?

How can we change the world for all, not just for those who can afford to go to malls?

Books on my walls..

There is a box of books under my bed. The two long shelves above my bed are already stacked so high that I am afraid they won't hold and books will tumble on me while I sleep. It wouldn't be the worst way to be woken though. My studies involve buying lots of books, reading sparknotes and pretending that I understand the intricate story lines and subtext, so every year I acquire a couple more. Also, every time we go to the hospice or walk by a second hand book store, I walk out with a stack of books.

I have two favourite books. The one I even bought twice : once in an English book store in Berlin, and then, thinking that I would never get it back after having lent it to a friend, I bought it again at Shakespeare & Co. in Paris. The book was looking at me, and my friend Adam said that it was fate: I had lost the book but found it again. I had to buy it. Well, a few weeks later I was back in SA and my book-borrowing friend was moving to the Netherlands, so I got it back. Now I have two copies of Joseph Heller's God Knows, but I don't think I'll ever part with either copy.

A quick word about Shakespeare & Co. : it is at the same time the greatest book store and the most pretentious. It is located on the left bank of the Seine and manages to sell a great number of great books in a tiny space. Upstairs there is a little corner with an old typewriter in between all the children's books, and in the next room there are benches against the wall and old, valuable-looking books. My memory might fail me or they might have changed, because I was last there in 2009. The environment is great, but the employees seem to be hipster-coolkid-American-students who look condescendingly at every purchase you make. It was probably just a long day and I am certainly not cool enough, but I thought the people there were ruining  the atmosphere a bit.

Back to my books. One day, I would like to have an entire room dedicated to them, with one of those rolling ladders and comfortable sofas and it should smell like happiness.

Here are some cool home libraries I found on shelterness:

or this one is quite cool as well: 

from here

Music painting

I was going through old websites that I had bookmarked and found this one.
Something pretty for the day :)

Marabastad pampoen*

I was in Fruit 'n Veg the other day ( you will notice that I quite like this store) and they had a special on : R10 for two enormous zucchinis. By enormous I mean the size of my arm - huge. Since I am unable to let anything go that seems like a bargain, I bought them without knowing what to cook with them. 

The first one I halved, stuffed it with a chorizo-mixed veg-couscous and topped with some cheese. I used a third of the other one to make rather boring fritters. I guess because the vegetable is so huge it loses some of that zucchini flavour. My mom came back just in time to also get her share of what she called a maranka. Aparently my grandmother used to make the giant zucchini with sugar and cinnamon. I am unsure if it is the same vegetable. 

So for the last 2/3 of the green monster, I cut it in rings, scooped out the seeds in the middle and stuffed them with a toasted bread/carrot/danish feta/coriander/patty pan mix with lots of spices. In hindsight it might have been better to peel the entire zucchini because the skin was not very tasty. It was an ok dish. Maybe it just needs more experimenting. Fruit 'n Veg is just around the corner, I'll have to go get more R10 specials :)

The maranka.

Cut in rings.

Stuffing

Topped with cheese.

I fixed our oven so now it has light again.

The final product.

  * meaning Marabastad pumpkin, because I could not remember the word "maranka" and Marabastad is a slightly dodgy shopping area.

Vat

Sy vat aan my haar-bolla - net 'n enkele oomblik lang. Hy vat aan sy skouer, gee dit 'n vinnige druk, en stap verder. Toe hy uit die kombuis uit terug kom, doen hy dit weer. Dit lyk as of sy gaan huil, so ek sit my hand op haar arm, net vinnig, net om te sê alles sal oraait wees. 

Dit is interessant hoe baie keer in 'n dag mens aan ander vat. Ek weet party mense hou nie daarvan nie, en ek self is nou ook nie te groot op die hele konstante gevattery wat party paartjies doen. Maar net so, tussen vriende en familie en selfs vreemdelinge, hou ek daarvan om te kyk hoe mense aan ander raak. 

In Frankryk soen-groet almal vir almal. Een regs, een links, en klaar. Dit was soms by die werk effens irriteerend omdat as daar twintig mense is wat twintig ander moet bisou-bisou kan dit 'n rukkie vat. Maar teen minste was daar 'n standaard.

Hier is ek nooit so seker nie. Vir goeie vriende sal ek 'n drukkie gee, maar ook net as ek hulle nie elke dag sien nie. Vir my ma sal ek lang drukkies gee omdat ek langer as sy is en steeds so mooi in haar arms pas. Vir my hond gee en ook drukkies omdat hy die perfekte grote is as hy op my skoot sit en dit heerlik is om my vingers tussen sy vel te laat gly. Die jaar toe ek weg was wou ek omtrent elke hondeeienaar bespring en net aan hulle honde raak. Mens mis daai gevoel van warmte en togeneentheid. As ek nuwe mense leer ken is dit altyd vir my 'n uitdaaging: vir die hello kan mens dalk nog vinnig waai of die hand skud ( ek praat net van nuwe vriende, nie van onderhoud-baas-situasies nie), maar teen die einde van die aand weet ek nooit rêrig of mens weer net moet waai/hand skud of 'n drukkie gee of net die vlaktes moet inhardloop nie. Dalk hou die persoon nie van 'n gevattery nie? Dalk sien hy/sy dit as 'n "invasion of private space". Maar aan die ander kant sou die persoon dalk graag daai moment van intimiteit wil voel? Ek weet nooit rêrig nie.  

Dit steur my ook as mense nie 'n ordentlike druk gee nie. As jy dan nou so na aan mekaar wil kom, moet asseblief nie jou skouer in my kakebeen in druk nie. Die sy-druk is ook vreemd. Dis 'n half-hartige onsekerheids-hello en ek dink doen dit reg of groet net vinnig.

Dalk wys die manier wat jy aan 'n ander mens vat meer oor hoe jy die verhouding sien as hoe hulle self dit sien. Dit kan natuurlik wees, dit kan onbewus wees, maar die manier hoe mens aan ander raak is party keer belangriker as wat mens sê. 

*

She touched my bun – just for a moment. He touched his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before walking on. When he leaves the kitchen to come back, he does it again. It looks as if she is crying, so I put my hand on her arm, just quickly, just to say everything will be okay.

It is interesting how many times in a day one touches other people. I know some people do not like it, and I am also not too big on the constant PDAs of some couples. But between friends and family and even strangers, I like to watch how people touch others.

The French greet everyone with a double kiss. One on the right cheek, one on the left, and done.  At work I sometimes became slightly irritated because if twenty people have to bisou-bisou twenty others, it can take a while. But at least there was a standard.

Here I am not so sure. I will hug good friends, but only if I do not see them every day. My mother gets a long hug because I am taller than she is and still fit so well between her arms. My dog gets hugs as well because he is the perfect size when he sits on my lap and it is great to feel his fur between fingers. The year that I was away I wanted to harass almost every dog ​​owner and just touch their dogs. You miss that feeling of warmth and affection. When I get to know new people it is always challenging for me: hello can be a quick wave or a handshake (I am only referring here to friendships, not to interview-boss situations), but at the end of the evening I never really know whether we should just wave/shake hands again or if one should hug or if one should just make a run for it. Maybe the person doesn’t like being touched? Maybe see he/she has "invasion of private space"-issues. On the other hand, the person might like that moment of intimacy of a goodbye hug. I never really know.

It bothers me when people do not give a decent hug. If you want to embrace, it should be done correctly, so please don’t jab your shoulder into my jaw. The side hug is also weird. It's a half-hearted uncertainty hello - and I think one should do it right or just quickly say a quick hello/goodbye.

Maybe the way we touch others show more about our own relationship with the person than the way they perceive it. It might be natural, it may be unconscious, but the manner in which one touches others often becomes more important than what one says.

Yes.

I found this whilst cleaning out my room.
Not entirely sure what I meant with the note at the time, but for all that will be, yes.




Update ( 5 minutes later):

Ah, the full quote is :
"For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes." - Dag Hammarskjold ( Swedish diplomat)

For a moment I was admiring my own brilliance, now I admire his. 

Done done done

I wrote my last exam today. Now it is just waiting for the results and then whambam, I have my BA. It feels unrealistic, because I have always thought that I would never stop studying. I'm continuing next year, but it is not real to me that others will go out and find jobs and lead adult lives. The whole idea of a job and an little apartment and working 9-5 and living, separate, it does not appeal to me. I like studying. The whole being-without-money part of it is not ideal, but if I had to choose between studying for ever or working for ever, I choose the former.

I am too exhausted from all the exams and marking and people wanting something to write anything that sounds intelligent.

So here is a Christmas-related song. This is Smith & Burrows with When the Thames froze. ( Tom Smith from Editors and Andy Burrows from Razorlight/I am Arrows/We are Scientists.

Making good out of a bad situation

So, the bill I was talking about yesterday was passed. How can government ignore a wave of protest? Flippen ANC. How can you censor the "new" South Africa if press freedom was a hard-won fight?

On a lighter note, Nando's is cleverly on point, as always:

Work by Black River FC, image via Chris Rawlinson

Chance to protest

Previously, I wrote about useless protesting going on in South Africa, but here is something you should sign your name to. When Nadine Gordimer states that the bill goes "totally against all ideas of freedom", you know it is worth throwing your funeral outfit on for a day of protest against the possible implementation of the Protection of Information Bill, which allows the government to punish anyone they think is holding and disclosing classified information with jail time of up to 25 years. I read a while ago that had this bill been in place, neither the arms deal scandal nor Zuma's sexual interactions with a young girl would have gone to court. This bill is seen as a threat to free-flowing information and minimises the government's accountability. Read more about the censoring of the Mail & Guardian's article on Mac Maharaj's involvement in the arms deal.


This is what future headlines could look like if we don't prevent this bill from passing : 

Sopnat*

Party in the park. Everyone is enjoying the pick-nick but the sky is clouding over and it seems like a good idea to at least pack some of our things back in the cars.

Later on the sky breaks and it is pissing. We head for the cars and people go their separate ways. I am afraid and can almost not see. The girl I have to drop off at home is japping on about her boyfriend troubles and when he will come fetch her and bla bla bla. She is not sober and repeating herself - I have heard the story numerous times this afternoon already. So, I don't listen. It is wet, the streets are flooding and it feels like I am riding on an orca, not in a car. When I can finally boot her out, I turn the Jezabels up and focus on the road. Hitting the highway is hard because the robot is out. Also, there is a bus stranded in the middle lane and its warning lights aren't on. 

The droplets seems like little ghostly feet running away from me. Everytime I cross under a bridge there is a moment of calm from the heavy rain hitting the car, and a black strip of asphalt. The next instant the tiny feet are back again, scurrying away from me. 

Even though I have driven this road about twice a day for the last three years, the familiar is scary now.

* the title means "wet like soup" in Afrikaans.

Now and then

Johannesburg 1886 via the Museum Afrika archive on A postcard a day from Gauteng

Can you believe in roughly a century the veld has become a sprawling city? I'm a Pretoria girl and to me, Johannesburg is big city living : a scary place of sensory overload. Every time I have to drive there the roads confuse me ( I like paper maps and not GPSs), the people drive more aggressively and somehow one always ends up in Hillbrow. If Joburg is the cool, dangerous older cousin who comes by once every few months for a braai, Pretoria is the ordered family throwing the braai and making sure everyone has a drink in their hand. I know these streets, I know the backroads to avoid traffic jams, I know where to go for a party and where to go to just chill. I am a snor-city lady and although Joburg seems super-exciting and like a more interactive place, I think Pretoria has its highlights as well. The city of gold is not the only coolkid on the Gauteng-block.

Johannesburg Skyline at night by Keith Miller 

I would like to...

Variation On the Word Sleep
Margaret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.


via Berkeley

It is time

Taken at Pretoria Station. 

Ke nako means "It's time". It was South Africa's slogan during the soccer world cup last year. I am just wondering what it is time for? Perhaps only for the train to arrive.

Naguil

Ek hou daarvan om snags te werk. Die daglig steur my konsentrasie. Deur die dag is daar so baie om na te kyk, buite, nie in my kamertjie nie. Deur die dag kom lê die honde by my en lek my voete en lek hul eie voete en staan op en stap om en steur my. Deur die dag is die voels buite besig. Deur die dag sny die bure hul gras en die ander bure speel musiek en die ander bure se kinders kyk TV en ek kan alles hoor. Deur die dag is daar net te baie om my aandag aftetrek.

Maar dan sak die donkerte oor Pretoria, my mense gaan slaap en ek raak wakker. Die gordyne is toe, daar is niks meer buitekant vir my om na te kyk nie. Die tyd raak min en ek moet my werk klaarkry, so my brein is volop gekonsentreer op sy taak. Hierdie naguilure is vir my heerlik want ek is allleen en my lyf en kop werk soos 'n masjien saam. Dit is ook nie so drukkend warm nie en mens hoor net af en toe 'n motorfiets verweg op die snelweg ry.

Hierdie is die ure van digters en denkers. As mens so alleen in 'n mens se kamer sit is daar nike meer om te ontdek nie, so dan is introspeksie maar die next-best-thing.

Ek hou van nie nag, want my liggie is die enigte een wat brand.



*
I like working at night. Daylight disrupts my concentration. During the day there is so much to look at, outside, not in my little room. During the day, the dogs will come and lick my feet and lick their own feet and they will walk around and bother me. During the day the birds are busy outside. During the day the neighbours cut their lawns and the other ones are listening to music and the children of the other neighbours are watching TV and I can hear everything. During the day there is just too much to distract me.

But then darkness descends over Pretoria, my people are sleeping and I awaken. The curtains are closed, there is nothing for me outside to spy at. There is not a lot of time left and I must finish the task at hand, so my brain is completely concentrated on what I have to finish. These night-owl-hours are beautiful to be because I am alone and my mind and body are working in unison, like a machine. It is also not as hot and one can only faintly perceive the sound of a motorbike on the highway.

These are the hours for thinkers and poets. If one sits by oneself in one's room and there is nothing left to discover, it is inward that one turns.

I like the night, because my light is the only one on.

We don't need no education.

found on 9gag

Although 9gag is definitely not the most reputable source for news, this image is from the student protests in Bogotá, Colombia. For months they have been demanding free education and against proposed reforms to privatise tertiary education. For more information you can refer to the BBC's article.

This morning I was speaking to my sister about finishing my last exams next Wednesday and about thereby finishing my first degree. Since it is a BA ( Bachelor of Arts), many people dismiss it as being a degree for young ladies to find a husband and also as being useless in the market place. I know learning about post-humanism and Cartesian duality might not rake in big bucks for me in the future, and that I'll probably always be underpaid and overworked, and that finding a job will be harder than if I had studied engineering. But I am good at thinking. Not so good at math and calculations and numbers. So is it not more important to be good ( and associated with that, happy) than to be bad at your job and hating it?!

In any case, I am privileged to have studied at all, and to be able to further my education. This is a protest I would have liked to join, not students protesting about a fiesta being cancelled.

Seal it

When I was younger, my sister and I collected stamps and put them in an album.
These, by Susan Eve Woolf, would have been quite cool to add to the collection. This year, she created another series, called Gestures of Note, also based on the system of hand signs that taxi commuters use to indicate where they would like to go. I assume the system in Gauteng differs from the one in the Cape, because there I've seen people holding money bills in order to show how far they would like to go.

       

 

   

All via the South African Post Office