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Thursday 31 October 2013

An ode to teachers across the world.



Most teachers have entered or will soon enter the "marking phase".

Sang to the tune of "Ol' man River"(and apologies to the original)

This ole lady Vera
That ole teacher Vera
She does know something
But kids know nothing
The marking keeps coming,
it keeps on rolling along

The red stripes fly
across the kids work
The kids get Bad marks
Which are soon forgotten
But ole teacher Vera
She just keeps marking all night

You and me, we keep on marking
'Cos everyone's waiting for those ma-arks!

Lift that bag,
take the work
Can’t take a little break
To land in dreamland

Ah gets weary
Am sick of red pens
I’m tired of marking
The kids are waiting,
the head is waiting
for marks to come rolling along

Wednesday 30 October 2013

I am South African



I am proud to be South African
I am sad to be South African.
I am weak
I cannot change your attitude to me
I am South African.

I was born in the apartheid era.
I did not ask to be part of it.
I hated it.
I wanted South Africa to be free.
I am South African.

The colour of my skin defines me
I want to stand with pride
I cannot –
My skin decides who should be my friend
I am South African

People say that Apartheid has gone
I look around and I ask
But has it?
The people around me cling to their kind
Sadly I am South African

I appreciate the power of the intellect
Madiba I look up to you
Bring back Logic.
My mind, my thoughts, my intellect
Make me South African

Madiba where is your dream for us?
Where is the Rainbow nation?
The country rebels
Madiba lay your peace around us
Help me be South African

Dissatisfaction is all around us
Black, brown, white Unite
Work together
to bring about the change that is needed.
I am a South African…


But my skin is white

 I have just listened to SA news tonight:

  • A schoolboy has been killed at school by other school boys.
  • People in Cape Town (our Mother City) rioting in the streets - smashing windows and people - some of the women were worse than the men.
  • More corruption in the Government and the police.

Can we survive?

 




Tuesday 29 October 2013

The Dancing Dream



I was destined to have a body capable of dancing. Because of this I was given a very huge challenge in life. I would never have a ballerina’s body – my inherited body type was wrong. I was short and well built and the more I danced the more my legs developed. I was the butt of jokes with some family members which led to a poor body image. I rebelled over a very silly thing in ballet – I was one exam away from being able to train as a teacher but left never to return.
The music was in my blood however, I played musical instruments and enjoyed dancing at parties. I wanted to learn ballroom and Latin and again proved talented but again rebelled when I couldn’t dance competitively with my best friend who was my partner of choice. I think he also gave up at that time. When I got married my husband had only one interest in life and it was not dancing – it was boozing -I didn’t beat him or join him. After the divorce I pined to start dancing again and tried out a few socials but I was too shy to mix with people so pulled out.
I met a guy, had a relationship and he also was not interested in dancing when that broke up I lost weight and started dancing in earnest and have now started teaching ballroom and Latin dancing.
This favourite thing makes me very happy!!!!!
My partner is my best friend – the first to celebrate and the first to commiserate. Extremely supportive of me. We have fun together and share a love of opera – I like Rom Coms he likes Sci-Fi. We like intelligent cop programs, we love mystical series and a good old fashioned musical speaks to our heart!
I have met some absolutely great people at dancing. The not so nice ones either become better or drift away. My life would be empty without my dance friends. When I need it I am surrounded by a cocoon of comfort. When I need it I get spoken to like a Dutch uncle. Our classes are filled with love, fun, frustration and support! My teacher and Mentor believes that we gather the people in as we need them and they need us to further our plan in life.
My dancing lessons give me exercise, peace and well being. If I start a lesson feeling down, I soon spark up!
Since starting to dance I have become more spiritual.

Friday 25 October 2013

Open Air School prize giving



Today I attended the prize giving at the Open Air School. For those who do not know the school it is an LSEN (Learners with Special Needs) school. The special needs are all physically related and it was wonderful to see how little they allow their physical problem to impact their life. The school motto is "I can and I will." A motto that the learners take to heart. Last year I taught there for four weeks after being severely traumatised by a gang of pupils in a so called "normal" school. The teachers had a running battle with a lot of the children who were in Grade 8 (Std 6) and Grade 9 (Std 7). These pupils (South Africa declares they must be called learners however that implies that they take some responsibility for their school work. This was not done.) Teachers have to battle with violence in the class (I had a near strangulation take place) total lack of work ethic and jeering at any pupil who did try to co-operate or who was different in any way. They did not care what you, the teacher had to offer – you were not wanted. Only the young sexy teachers were tolerated but their ears frequently burned with the sexual innuendos muttered in their presence. Once they reached Grade 10 (Std 8) a semblance of normality became a bit wider spread but there were still problems and these problems were bigger because the kids were bigger.
So now back to the Open Air School. In my four weeks they took me in and very soon realised that I had a lot to offer them. They co-operated, they learnt, they chatted, they flooded the room during break time. These children who have such physical problems – problems I cannot even imagine – worked cheerfully. Their sense of humour was finely tuned, they laughed together. They did not laugh at one another – they laughed with each other. A more able bodied learner would always help those who were having difficulty in some way. The blind were helped along by the sighted, the wheelchairs were wheeled by the hard of hearing. In the classroom the sight challenged would be helped by the amputee. The deaf child would watch the teachers lips and get help from neighbouring children. They CARE for each other. No child was considered strange or inferior to their class mates. They met on equal footing of being somewhat out of the ordinary – not special – their disability became abilities to do things in a different way – helping each other find the right way for them. This almost makes them sound angelic. They were in a way! But they could be as mischievous as little devils if they wished. The big thing is – I never saw malice. I visit there frequently as I do their web site and the kids still remember me and greet me with HUGE smiles and waves. They are polite and friendly – not familiar. I count myself blessed to have had even just a short time with them.
Today: The tears were hovering in the corner of my eyes too frequently. I wasn't sad. I was touched. Admiration streamed forth as child after child took their place in the line to get their prizes. Some were led due to sight impairments; Some were helped in their wheelchairs; Some walked clumsily on their crutches; some dragged useless limbs behind them as they walked to get their prize. One young boy lurched across the stage to receive a trophy that was bigger than him. His unstable hands battled to take hold of it. All the while a beautiful smile lit up his face. He never stopped smiling. He also got the most prestigious trophy for the child who helped others, was always cheerful and would go out of his way to be pleasant and nice to others. I am afraid the tears trickled a little further out of my eyes. And then the was the choir. These angelic voiced children sang 3 songs. The Prayer nearly dissolved me into tears. The school song is also very moving.
Thank you for a beautiful experience. I can't wait to receive all the information and photos that I need for your web site. www.openairschool.co.za
Open Air School thank you for making me humble – tonight I can really thank God for His blessings.
These children helped inspire my book which is being launched on 27th November – "Full Circle" 

Wednesday 23 October 2013

Extract from "Uncle Al"



Uncle Al was passionate about photography. He viewed photography as another branch of science. He had taken numerous photographs when his nieces and nephews were growing up. He had a fully functional photographic studio at home complete with a dark room. He would spend hours developing pictures in his dark room. He loved the acrid smell of the chemicals. It was fascinating to expose a negative onto the photographic paper, transfer it to the developer and watch the picture appeared on the paper. Kevin loved it when he was allowed to watch Uncle Al develop a batch of photos. When he was little he couldn’t understand how the negative image appeared on the paper so he was convinced that Uncle Al was magic!
One day Uncle Al came rushing around to Kevin’s house. He was so excited he could hardly speak! When he had calmed down, he told them about the latest invention. Cameras without film! “Rubbish” said Kevin’s dad “You must be careful of the nonsense you always sprout. These kids have impressionable minds and will gobble up any drivel that you dish up. Go away kids! Uncle Al has spent too long in his dark room with all those chemicals!”

“Its true” said Uncle Al. “It was on a magazine program about an hour ago. And then I heard it on the news on the radio. Switch on your TV. It may come on the news at 6.”

Kevin sat in front of the TV waiting. He had great faith in his eccentric Uncle. Uncle Al always managed to spark up some fun. He also liked the way that his uncle looked at things. Take a ball for example. When Kevin saw a ball, he played with it. Uncle Al saw it as a sphere that could follow an orbit. He taught Kevin about angles of deflection when playing games like squash, golf or billiards. He illustrated how a squash ball would slightly change shape on impact. He also explained how a balls’ trajectory could change depending on where it impacted with the racquet, club or stick. Kevin wished that all adults could see things in the same way as Uncle Al. He had never lost his childlike wonder of things in the world. Kevin learned later that people like Uncle Al are often called visionaries. However at this particular point in time all Kevin could see was the exciting life that he experienced when he was with Uncle Al.

The big moment arrived. The 6 o’clock news came on and all the family were speechless. Uncle Al had been right! There was such a camera! Of course Uncle Al lived on tenterhooks until the camera was commercially available and he became the proud owner of the first digital camera in their town. He waited outside the electronics store from 5 am – determined to be first in line to get the new camera! He was so proud when his photo (complete with new camera!) appeared in the paper.

Friday 18 October 2013

Children Feel the beat!



Music touches a primeval part of our soul. A child responds and moves to music from an extremely early age. Dancing is part of our innate being. Dance encourages children to be storytellers through movement to music. As with all things it needs to be nurtured in order to survive. We need to encourage our children, boys and girls, to continue moving to the music of their soul.


Nowadays children learn to be couch potatoes from an early age. Many parents jokingly refer to the TV as their best babysitter. Children need to be up and moving! However it is often no longer safe for a child to run around and play outside so it becomes important for parents or caregivers to implement safe exercise sessions – and what better way than movement to music – the dance lesson.



Dancing helps the young child develop co-ordination, balance and sense of space. They learn to work together in a fun environment and their listening skills will improve. They quickly learn to distinguish between the right side of the body and the left. Dance helps children develop social skills and self esteem. They learn to move with poise and grace. It also helps them develop an ability to take people into their personal space. 



Contact sport is not always the best choice for a young child but any child (boy or girl) who has been introduced to dance will take that fluidity of movement into other sports as they get older.

But most importantly dancing is FUN!




Sunday 13 October 2013

"In the Twinkling of an Eye"



Extract From teen graphic novel - "In the Twinkling of an Eye"

 “Ta-Da!” says Shocks pointing to a mini van. It’s black with yellow, red and orange flames on the sides, starting small by the front doors and expanding out till it covers the entire back area. At the back a beautiful nude angel rises out of the flames.


“I’m in heaven” yells Rishie.

Steve is so choked up he can hardly speak, “Itsh beautiful man, jusht about the mosht beautifullest thing I have ever sheen” he sobs.

Sara screams “I want to ride, ride, ride!”

Sanity strikes me “Who can drive it?”

A chorus drowns out anything else I want to say. “Aw come on! Anyone can drive it. You can!”

“No I can’t. I don’t have a license, I’m too young and I’ve been drinking. We all have.”

I am driving it,” says Shocks “I found it so I will drive it.”

Even though my head is a bit fuzzy, that didn’t sound right but I didn’t question it.

One after the other we climb in. It’s stuffy and we are squashed like sardines. We cruise down the freeway, yelling out the windows and sun roof. Soon we’re in a quieter part of town - a part where drag races are often held. There are two cars waiting.

Everyone tumbles out, shrieking with laughter and falling about. I am the last one to climb out. I don’t like the way the evening’s going so I decide to hang back and watch.  I don’t want to get involved.

I see Sara tear off her red skirt and fling it in the air.
“I want to be the flag” she shrieks, not at all ashamed to be standing in the briefest pair of panties I had ever seen. I’m so embarrassed for her but everyone else thinks it’s funny.

Shocks grabs Rishie and they cross the road and walk towards the drivers of the two cars. Money appears and is given to Rishie. Rishie puts the money in his pocket as he crosses the road to stand next to me
The three cars are in a row revving their engines, waiting for Sara. She circles her skirt above her head and then drops it. As the cars speed off on either side of her, she jumps up and down screaming in excitement. The others caper around her like idiots. They look so stupid as they dance and sprawl around in the middle of the road. Rolling around like fools! Huge gales of laughter erupt from the sprawling mass of bodies.

Illustrations by Manuela Cardiga 

Available at Amazon and Smashwords

Thursday 10 October 2013

In Memory of Andrew



Welcome to my imagination. I have an image of a finely woven silver thread. Think of a thread in a cobweb. This endless silver thread glimmers as it twirls out of my body. It links me to – I don't know what.
You have that thread as does the person next to you in a bus, in a shop or at work.
It appears fragile but is in fact quite sturdy. Or is it?

Does it connect your inner being (some would say your soul) to a superior being? At the end of your life is it severed and that is the end or does it keep a hold on your soul to entice your soul to reach a realm that we can only imagine?

All I know is that life is precious and tenuous.

Today I said goodbye to a young man that I know. Andrew was 19 years – he was a university student riding his bike to visit his girlfriend when it appears that 2 cars collided in a head on and somehow he was entangled in this.

This is an ode to you Andrew.

I remember you as a bouncy grade 8 (Std 6) 13 years old. You bounced into the computer room – huge smile decorating your face! Friendly but respectful. What wasn't there to like? You worked hard – you were mischievous – there was always a ready smile or laugh. At times you could be serious and have quite a mature chat. Your mind was inquisitive, you had to know why.

You bounced into the computer room in grade 9 – ready for the challenges of the day. Nothing had changed – the smile was still there, the grin was still there you were still friendly and respectful.

Grade 10 – it was just meeting you in the corridor – huge smile and usually a "How are you ma'am?"

At some stage you joined my dancing class – still embracing everything with vigour. Your mother was pleased that you had started to dance. But unfortunately other sports called and clashed with dancing but every time I met you in the passage – the smile and the "How are you Ma'am?" was still there.

Then joy – back to dancing - until sport intervened.

You visited the computer room to sort out school presentations, we chatted over problem areas, You were reliable and I could always depend on you.

Then it was goodbye to all matrics. I thought I wouldn't see you again. But soon you joined my evening classes with Talia. The two of you looked so good on the floor. You bounced into the hall and greeted everyone. You took a vibrant interest in all of the people in the class. Sitting and chatting to them as you waited for your class to begin – regardless of the age gap.

I saw you on Monday night. Grabbing your helmet – you took my one bag to the car. I hope I hugged you but I don't know.

I drove past you today but I didn't know it was you. I was concentrating on getting around the congestion around you. I saw your bike next to the pavement. I saw you covered. I think if I had seen your helmet I would have known. I was saddened and said, "The motorcyclist didn't make it." And rushing over me was a memory of my girl who didn't make it all those years ago. I felt for the parents of this unknown rider – I knew what they would be going through. And now I send love to your parents.

Andrew you made an impact on all who met you. I can see your smile, I can see your bounce, I can see your concentration as we chatted over problems, I can see your grace on the floor. Goodbye – I'm glad I knew you.

Andrew, there is a saying that only the good die young. I'm going to miss you.

Tuesday 8 October 2013

Closing doors



As we travel through the corridors of life we are faced with many doors. We choose which doors to open and which to ignore.

Let us follow Barry and see what he does with the doors on his route through life. Probably the first door that Barry became aware of was the door to his parent's room. As he grew older they felt that the time had come to stop the free entry into their domain. Barry now had to knock. Sometimes he was allowed in, sometimes he was met by his father who opened the door a crack and would not allow him to even glance inside before being sent on his way. And sometimes he got a resounding "NO!"

So Barry soon began to realise that a door, although a physical thing,  separated him from the mystery on the other side both physically and mentally.

As Barry grew up he became aware of many doors lining his passage through life. The doors all had different appearances. Some were dull and dreary and seemed to offer no promise of fun or possessions on the other side. Barry ignored these doors and sought for something better.

Once while out with friends he came across a door that appeared to be made of opaque blue glass. It intrigued him. He turned the handle but it wouldn't budge. So he knocked at the door. A pair of thin lady's arms encased in long sea green gloves appeared through narrow opening. They reached for his tie and dragged him in. He felt like a rodent slithering through the narrow opening. After what seemed hours the doors erupted open and he stumbled out into the passageway again. He was as white as a sheet, his clothes were in disarray and friends did not know what had caused it and he would never talk about it. The strange thing was a dark mark appeared below his hairline and above his right eye. He tried to wash it off but it remained. It became a permanent mark of his time behind that door.

So some doors are dangerous and others are innocuous. With experience Barry soon began to tell if the door was safe. But still there some mistakes along the way.

He learnt that he could open a door for a quick glimpse inside. He may decide to enter and stay, or he may choose to close the door and move on or he may be shooed out because that door is not for him.
He also learnt that if he choose to enter a door It was never a permanent decision..

When he decided to leave a room it could be for many reasons. Sometimes he would leave the room, close the door but not lock it. It is almost as if he was hoping to come back. I hope he didn't go back because time changes everything and everyone and what satisfied him before may no longer please him.

Once he occupied the space behind the door for a long time. Many things happened to him here but suddenly he left the space, leading one child, a toddler, by the hand and carrying the other, a mere baby. He fumbled for the key to the door, locked it and threw the key as far from him as he could.

Monday 7 October 2013

Computer life experiences



When I was young (computer speaking) I was introduced to DOS and Word Perfect for DOS. I soon transferred over to Word for DOS as it was more “friendly” but I still felt like an infant who had been pushed into 1st year university. There were very few people who could help me and I was left all alone, ploughing through and trying to find help. Somewhere I heard about the alt key. I tried it and eventually discovered that alt + F gave me the file menu! Wow things started to fall in place. Then I saw Lisa (Apple)! What was that thing on the side? A mouse???? - Wow look at those graphics! Of course Bill looked, saw and borrowed!
And so our GUI was born! Then came office 97

Now (computer speaking) I was in High school –time to explore. I found that Alt still worked but once I had conquered the rodent, my computer experience blossomed! I could have as much or as little as I wanted as far as tools were concerned. I could implement a tool bar and then get rid of it! I still had quite a lot of work space (a bit less than DOS allowed but GUI more than made up for it!). I was adventurous and my world expanded! Office 2000 irritated a bit. Why did the task pane pinch so much of my screen? But PowerPoint had prepared me for this with its task pane. Close when not needed. Simple!

Now with Office 7 I realised that (computer speaking) I had entered Grade 1. Everything was soooo big! And I had a smaller area for my work! I felt insecure. I needed my blankie but my kitty would do. Where is he? He had become my constant companion. He was alert when I needed him to be alert. He saved all my work in a filing cabinet and even stamped out my printed copies for me. When he got bored he curled up and went to sleep, purring! Now when I needed him most I could not find him!

The thought suddenly occurred to me – “As I am getting older in my computer life I am regressing. Horrors! Is that happening in my personal life as well??? Is my second childhood looming?”

Another thought: toolbars in high school. Yeah - fiddle around, experiment – suitable for the age group. Ribbons in grade 1? Yep. My mom always tied my hair back with ribbons!

Sunday 6 October 2013

My Della and Easter stories



I have written 5 stories for kiddies aged 0 to 8. From 0 to 6 mom and dad can read them from 7 to 8 they can read them by themselves. I have been criticised for using words that are too big. I never talked baby talk to my kids and I don't intend to do it in my stories. Most of the time when I use a big word the explanation is built into the text. If it isn't what a wonderful opportunity for a parent or teacher to extend the child! As I am also an educator I like this aspect. I initially wrote them as private stories for my 3 year old granddaughter. My son requested that I publish them. She is now 7 and still loves them!

These stories have been published as separate hard copy books and I am thinking of making them all into one book. They are also available on Smashwords and on a variety of sites as e-books. (Kobo, Diesel, Sony etc.)

Here is a sample of one these stories (Illustrations done by my wonderfully talented Manuela Cardiga):

The Bird Project

 
Della was sitting quietly at school looking at the beautiful pictures of the sea in one of the books in her classroom. As she turned the page she saw a picture of a bird flying in the air above the sea.
She knew it was called a seagull. Last Sunday Mummy and Daddy had taken Della to the seaside. While they were picking up shells at the edge of the sea, Daddy had pointed out a seagull.

Her daddy explained, “Della, that bird is called a seagull. It lives on anything it can find. Sometimes it finds food on the beach or in the rocks but it can also swoop low over the sea to catch fish to eat.”
Excitedly Della went to her teacher with the book.

“Look Miss Brown, this is a seagull like the one I told you about on Monday.”

“Della,” said Miss Brown. “You have given me a lovely idea!”

Miss Brown clapped her hands to get everybody's attention.

“Class, our project for the next few weeks will be to find out what we can about the birds we see in our gardens or when we go shopping or visiting other places.

“You will collect pictures from newspapers and magazines and you are to find out all you can about the bird in your picture. Please remember to ask for permission before cutting out any pictures! Together we will make a mural of the pictures.”

Lily put up her hand, “Miss Brown, what is a mural?”

“It is a big picture that will cover most of the back wall of the classroom. All of you will help to make it. If it is well done I will find out if I can take you on an outing to the bird park.”

Saturday 5 October 2013

Darkest before the Dawn



The drive to the airport was stressful. The road works had slowed the traffic down. It took them fifteen minutes to travel two Kilometers. Sharon's mother, Louise tried to soothe her.

"I'm so glad that we left half an hour earlier than we had to," she said.

"This traffic is disgusting! Louise, what possessed the people in the know to move the airport so far up the coast. Why couldn't the necessary road works have been completed before the move?" grumbled Sharon's father, Des.

"Its fine!" said Sharon. "As long as we get there in time I don't mind. I have more time to spend with you."

There was silence while they waited for the traffic jam to clear.

"Mom," said Sharon in a worried tone. "Am I doing the right thing? Moving so far away from you and Dad? Moving to a city where I know no-one?"

"Sharon," said her dad. "Do you remember when you applied for the job? We had a family discussion and we all agreed that we would leave it in the lap of the gods. The company obviously liked your portfolio."

"Yeah, but Dad I have never lived away from home."

"Sharon!" exclaimed her mom. "You lived in res for your entire course at Durban University of Technology!"

"Yes, but you were an hour away. If I got homesick for the little house on the beach I could drive home to visit."

"Gee Louise, How long is the plane trip to Jo'burg? I thought it was less than an hour!" exclaimed Des.

"Oh no! My baby is travelling soooo far away!" Her mother pretended to weep copiously.

"Aw you're both nuts! And that's why I love you so much." Sharon couldn't help giggling comfortably in the back of the car. "Dad please switch the air con on. It's getting hot waiting for this traffic to sort itself out."

"I can't believe it!" exclaimed Louise. "Look at all these people wandering around. That one's selling cell phone chargers and licence holders!"

"Need some loo rolls mom?" giggled Sharon.

"No but I could use some black bags!"

"I think Durban is the only place where you can do your shopping while you wait for a traffic jam to clear!" laughed Des.

"But seriously Sharon," said her dad. "If for any reason you need to come home you know that your room will be there waiting for you. No phone call necessary unless you need a lift from the airport. Ah! At last! We're moving more that 10 Kilometres an hour! And now I think we're off!"

"I know Dad! I'm just feeling nervous!"

"I think it's perfectly fine for you to feel nervous," said her mom. "I am going to miss you. I'm going to miss our chats on the veranda steps in the early morning, nursing our coffee and watching the gulls on the beach."

"And stretching our toes in the sand below the last step," added Sharon

"Yes! But I know it's time for you to go and if you want to be a successful illustrator you need to start in a big city. Our little village will not help you. One day when you are famous you may be able to live close to us and submit your work over the internet but now you need to make a name for yourself."

"And there's always Face Book and Skype, my love," added her father.

"You know you two are great! How did I get so lucky?"

"You choose us!" chorused Louise and Des!

Friday 4 October 2013

Accountability



There is an e-mail which is frequently resurrected which announces the death of Common sense.
I have discovered that accountability has also succumbed in today's world. I bid a fond farewell to accountability as I stand at the edge of the pit into which it has sunk.

When I was growing up if I went outside and it was raining I got wet. I got into trouble for it I had no-one to blame – the fault was mine – I was accountable.

I had trouble with Afrikaans and later on Latin. I did not blame my teachers. I found languages other than English, incomprehensible. I did not blame my school, the teachers, and the government. It was me. I was brilliant at Maths and loved manipulating figures and I adored playing with words. It did not worry me when my headmistress took me aside to advise me on my choice of subjects for matric. Her words were sweet and clear. "Vera whatever you choose, leave languages and Home Economics alone!" I thanked her and followed her advice. I did not protest that it was not my fault. I did not blame my teachers and I certainly didn't blame the school or my parents. It was me, all me and I accepted that there were some things I could not do. I could dance, play the violin and act and that was fine.

At the end of my matric year I gained a Senior Certificate instead of a Matric Exemption (a university entrance pass) because of Afrikaans. All my other symbols were way up but I could not get an acceptable mark in Afrikaans. It was my problem and I set about solving it. I entered a bi-lingual Teachers Training college, applied to do a rewrite at the end of the year, made friends with some Afrikaans students and followed their conversation. I did not talk much as they laughed at me and I was a sensitive person. By the end of the year my Afrikaans had improved and I passed it and was awarded my Matric Exemption. I had made the effort. My success was mine. I had made myself accountable to myself. I was responsible for my education. My parents were there for me but it was my effort. I applied for a loan and got it. I had to pay it back at the end of my training. But again that was fine. I wanted the training, I would pay for it.

I put a roof over my head because I worked for it. I did not Toyi-toyi to get a free home, free water, free electricity. If I couldn't afford something I shrugged my shoulders.
I could not afford to send my kids to get a tertiary education – they accepted it and did not demand a free education from the government.

I know that there are some people who just can't get it right. I feel for them but neither I nor our government should be held responsible for their situation in life. My son made a success because of it and my daughter is grinding away at a degree now that her girls are well on their way to becoming ladies. She is getting fabulous marks – probably 20 to 30 percent more than she would have if an education had been handed to her in her teens.

This probably sounds very hard to some of you but I look around at the people who have made it and most have made it on their own. Draw on what's inside you – make it bigger than you. Make it realise your ambitions. Have ambitions. If you make it on your own the sense of achievement is so rewarding. Go to my brothers and sisters and become accountable.

Wednesday 2 October 2013

More memories



I can remember when I was little Ma and Pop went to Durban for a holiday, leaving the entire brood alone. Probably Mom, Dad, Aunty Maureen and Uncle Bill kept the home fires burning.

The excitement when they got back was immense. I presume that everyone got a gift but self centred little brute that I was I only remember mine. I was given Cinderella and her prince. They were in a ballroom hold. There were little wheels on the bottom and when you wound it up, they circled the floor. I was entranced with it. My imagination (which was always very vivid) says there was music but I don't really think so!

I think it may have been on that holiday of theirs that Ma had fallen in love with a clock. Pop had bought it for her. It was a fairly large electric clock to stand on the dresser or mantelpiece. I hope I can describe it well enough for you to get a picture of it. The clock face had an inset, like a window, above it. Inside this inset was an old style sailing boat complete with sails sitting on waves. There was a switch which operated it. 
When this was set in motion, the boat rocked up and down on the waves and the sky behind it changed from dawn through to daylight to dusk to night. It was an extremely fascinating item. Ma and I would sometimes switch the lights off and watch the boat in motion as the boat's day progressed. (Please remember TV had not arrived in South Africa yet!) I Googled old time electric clocks and could not find one anything like it. I thought a picture would be worth a thousand words! You will just have to let your imagination draw the picture of the clock from my (maybe paltry) description. That clock went with them on all their moves and was always placed in a prime position.

Ma and Pop moved to Durban for a while. While in Durban I think Pop worked for Wareings. They had a flat close to the beachfront. This flat then became the Durban headquarters for the family. I don't think they stayed long, maybe for a year. I think their next move was to live with Joan and Johnny. (My family can set me right here.) They stayed there for the rest of their lives. By this time I was married and had a family of my own. The last picture I have of Ma was of her holding my oldest child, Della, as a baby. Money was tight so Jo'burg visits were out of our budget once my family grew larger. I look back with small regrets that Ma and Pop meant the world to me when I was growing up and I wasn't part of their twilight years.

Tuesday 1 October 2013

The Durban Days

Mom, dad and I lived in Durban. We frequently went to the beach and I used to pitch up in Jo'burg in the height of Winter as brown as a berry. I was often threatened by the family (group areas act was prevalent) that I would be escorted out of the white area in which they stayed!
Sunscreen? What was that? We had no intention of preventing as many of the suns rays from finding our bodies. We would give it all the help it needed. The sun for tanning – we needed to attract the sun! Suntan oil was sold. I know friends who used the weirdest concoctions on their skins to attract the sun. Coconut oil was one, baby oil was another, Brylcreem as well – anything that would attract the sun. There was a brand that was very popular – Coppertone.


 I heard of surfers who used motor oil.
We did not build up slowly. The first day in the sun was usually as long as we could make it. A couple of hours later we were in agony. My dad had a solution. Buy the vrottest tomatoes in town, have a cool bath and rub yourself with tomatoes until the pain subsided. I have no idea if there is now any scientific proof but boy it worked! So we went around for a few days smelling like a salad steeped in oil of some kind! So what if we sported tomato pips wherever we went?
I can remember Ma and pop bringing many family members to Durban for a holiday. And Oh sacrilege! I was allowed to take a day off school now and again. They usually arrived on a Sunday so Mom, Dad and I were able to meet with them and help them settle in their hotel (The Coo-ee If I remember correctly). Joan and Aunty Joyce could not wait to rush off to the beach.
First night blues consisted of the two girls fighting for the cool bath and rotten tomatoes! Moaning and groaning all the time. Once Aunty Joyce's nose was so sunburned she walked around with a tomato more or less attached to it. Come the next holiday you can be sure there was a repeat performance!
The beach was not popular for a few days – the peeling would start and then the tan would get motley!
The beach front had so many attractions:
There was the little top, the mermaid lidop, the swimming baths, A whole indoor play section – I think it was called Kenilworth – a boat that went through a tunnel by the paddling pond. Later there was the log.)
My dad worked for the whaling station (put that down – I know it's not PC nowadays but we were ignorant then) Every year after the flat bottomed whalers had an overhaul they needed to be checked. A cruise was arranged from Durban to Port Shepstone and back. It co-incided with a Lynch family holiday. So dad organised the family as the passengers. When we got to the esplanade the palm trees were bowed down with the near gale that was blowing. A few family members chickened out. Joan and I taunted the others until a sizable party made it onto the boat. The water in the bay was extremely choppy. We stood on deck as the boat made its way to the harbour mouth. Joan turned to Aunty Joyce and laughed "Joyce – you look green!" Joan turned to look at me and we both had the same thought at the same time – lean over the side and feed the fishes. As soon as there was nothing more to expel we were led downstairs to a cabin with two bunks – a bucket each was deposited next to us. All I can remember is rolling around on the bunk and wishing either that the boat would stop and throw me off or that I could die. Pop kept on coming down to let us know what we were missing. "I saw some flying fish. Come on deck – you must see this!" "oooooo" reverberated from the two bunks.
Dad kept coming down to clean us up. Fortunately as we were halfway back to Durban the waters subsided and Joan and I were able to take interest in the cabin. I think it was Pop who came down with some sandwiches to replace that which we had lost. However the filling was sardines so needless to say the buckets were once again put to good use!
Out of the entire group most had not wanted to go. Joan and I were desperate to go and used every trick in the book to get the trip underway. No-one else was seasick. Neptune sure has a strange sense of humour!