I was in Joburg for a wedding last weekend and I stayed with the family of a friend. She lives on a small holding outside Pretoria (lots of driving!) and we had a great time over long breakfasts and dinners, with her parents regaling us with stories.
Her parents moved here from Germany, and her dad told us about how as a young boy it was his duty to take care of the families cow. It was just his mom and him, about six years old or so, and maybe a younger sibling (I don't quite remember). So money was pretty tight for them and the cow was precious.
His duty was to take the cow to the common lot every day, the common area of field next to the river where animals could graze. So he would walk the cow to the lot, run home and change for school, and fetch the cow back in the afternoon after school. And the cow would spend the night in their shed.
Last week I was picking up a girl from the township near me, to help her out with a school science project. And we got talking about cows, because there are cows wandering all over the place there. I think I had to stop for a cow in the road. So I recounted to her the story of my friend's dad and the cow.
And she told me that that was her brother's job. Yes, they also have four cows and a few goats. And her brother's job is to take them to graze in the veld every morning and fetch them in the evening, to sleep in their yard.
It reminded me of the Biblical phrase, "what is common to man."
(The verse is found in 1 Corinthians 10:13, but its the phrase, rather than the meaning of the verse, that I was reminded of).
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The time of building.
"The struggle must go on - the struggle to make the opportunity for the building to begin. The struggle will go on. I speak humble and without levity when I say that, God giving me strength and courage enough, I shall die, if need be, for this cause. But I do not want to die until I have seen the building begun."
Albert Luthuli, closing the epilogue of his autobiography.
We live in a time that mean and women braver and more committed than us only dreamed of. And what responsibility comes with living in this time. To whom much has been given, much will be expected.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Spring
As I've said before, I live in Grahamstown. It's quaint and chilled out, it's a great place to live.
But one of the real drawbacks to Grahamstown is our water. A couple of years ago we had a real water scare, where thousands of baby trout died at the Rhodes fish farm and there was a lot of concern about dangerous levels of heavy metals in our water supply. Everyone was warned not to drink the tap water and we lived on bottled water for a week or two. Rhodes bought what must have literally been tons of bottled water for students and set up water tanks around campus. It turned out, after all of the drama, that the water was safe for humans. So no Erin Brockovich for Grahamstown!
But, to quote the Rhodes followup email from after the water scare, the water is "safe (if unpleasant) to drink." Oh dear, you must know, our water is unpleasant. I only really realised it when I'd been at home in East London for a while and when I came back to Grahamstown I found my tea had the most unpleasant taste. I tried to figure out what the problem was for ages - I thought it was the type of milk, or maybe onion in the fridge had made the milk tase odd. But I finally realised the issue was the water.
Yuck.
Our water goes through phases where its browny, brown, white, has floaty white bits or floaty black bits.
Yuck.
And it often tastes like dirt.
Yuck.
I asked a friend who works in water research what the issue is, and she tells me that the problem is really that Grahamstown's water pipes are very old. So they have cracks where soil gets into them. Which isn't dangerous, I'm told. It just makes the water taste like dirt.
Of course, because we have all watched Erin Brockovich we still harbour concerns about our fertility and future health and so forth. But wonderfully, there is a spring just on the outskirts of Grahamstown. And Grahamstown is small, so "on the outskirts of Grahamstown" is a 10 minute drive away from pretty much anywhere.
So over these past years, with the water concerning all of us, the spring has become a pretty busy place. Sometimes you go there and wait half an hour in a line to get water.
This is a typical queue at the spring, Sunday afternoon I think...
The spring is in a dip just just off the side of the road. You can see my car Chloe (blue midge!) on the road, and some other cars. There's usually at least one or two cars parked next to the spring, sometimes five or six or more.
This is a close up of the actual spring, and my water container being filled up. The whole area has been built up with steps from the road down to the spring, and the pipe and area to stand your containers on as they fill up.
I have no idea who first set it up, or who maintains it. There is a placard fixed to the fence behind the spring which labels it "God's property" and asks people to keep the area clean.
I quite enjoy going to the spring because it takes a while for water containers to fill up so you get to chat to the people in the line around you. And they are all sorts of people, all ages and walks of life, so its rather nice to chat to some different people.
And of course the blue skies above and the sound and smell of running water. Lovely.
But one of the real drawbacks to Grahamstown is our water. A couple of years ago we had a real water scare, where thousands of baby trout died at the Rhodes fish farm and there was a lot of concern about dangerous levels of heavy metals in our water supply. Everyone was warned not to drink the tap water and we lived on bottled water for a week or two. Rhodes bought what must have literally been tons of bottled water for students and set up water tanks around campus. It turned out, after all of the drama, that the water was safe for humans. So no Erin Brockovich for Grahamstown!
But, to quote the Rhodes followup email from after the water scare, the water is "safe (if unpleasant) to drink." Oh dear, you must know, our water is unpleasant. I only really realised it when I'd been at home in East London for a while and when I came back to Grahamstown I found my tea had the most unpleasant taste. I tried to figure out what the problem was for ages - I thought it was the type of milk, or maybe onion in the fridge had made the milk tase odd. But I finally realised the issue was the water.
Yuck.
Our water goes through phases where its browny, brown, white, has floaty white bits or floaty black bits.
Yuck.
And it often tastes like dirt.
Yuck.
I asked a friend who works in water research what the issue is, and she tells me that the problem is really that Grahamstown's water pipes are very old. So they have cracks where soil gets into them. Which isn't dangerous, I'm told. It just makes the water taste like dirt.
Of course, because we have all watched Erin Brockovich we still harbour concerns about our fertility and future health and so forth. But wonderfully, there is a spring just on the outskirts of Grahamstown. And Grahamstown is small, so "on the outskirts of Grahamstown" is a 10 minute drive away from pretty much anywhere.
So over these past years, with the water concerning all of us, the spring has become a pretty busy place. Sometimes you go there and wait half an hour in a line to get water.
This is a typical queue at the spring, Sunday afternoon I think...
The spring is in a dip just just off the side of the road. You can see my car Chloe (blue midge!) on the road, and some other cars. There's usually at least one or two cars parked next to the spring, sometimes five or six or more.
This is a close up of the actual spring, and my water container being filled up. The whole area has been built up with steps from the road down to the spring, and the pipe and area to stand your containers on as they fill up.
I have no idea who first set it up, or who maintains it. There is a placard fixed to the fence behind the spring which labels it "God's property" and asks people to keep the area clean.
I quite enjoy going to the spring because it takes a while for water containers to fill up so you get to chat to the people in the line around you. And they are all sorts of people, all ages and walks of life, so its rather nice to chat to some different people.
And of course the blue skies above and the sound and smell of running water. Lovely.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
For shame
In the mail. A Truworths account card. That I never applied for. Just for just, a sparkling new opportunity to get into debt. I got a Woolworths account card in the same way. And I get periodic letters from Nedbank offering me personal loans. And SMS's offering me loans. Last year before the new credit act was passed I got several phone calls offering Kulula.com credit cards and other such fanciful things. Kulula credit cards!!!
SHAME ON YOU Truworths, Woolworths, Nedbank, Kulula and many others who try to lure South African's into unnecessary debt! We have enough financial concerns without this added temptation.
For shame.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Unfearing yourself
As a followup from my previous post!
Most white south African's are, I expect, pretty afraid of being in townships. Or maybe it was just me. But I think its a pretty common fear. Its not even a well defined fear - like a fear of being mugged or stabbed or a fear of death. Fears like that are not great, but they are understandable and justifiable. No one wants to be mugged! No, this fear is a sort of fear of general badness and the unknown. But that was particularly ineloquent, I know, perhaps someone else will be able to express it better.
Anyway, the first time a friend dropped me in the township near us to do extra math with some matric students I said I would be fine... "ja ja I'll be fine, see you later." But on the inside there was a terrified "AAAAARG!!!"
Especially when we realised the school I was dropped at (my lift having left) was closed, so we had to walk to a nearby library.
It was pretty ridiculous, in retrospect, but I was pretty scared.
Anyway, I've got over that fear now. This is roughly my technique for dealing with this kind of fear:
1) Evaluate, as best you can, if the danger is real.
If the danger is real, then leave!!
This is often a difficult thing to evaluate though, because when you are nervous and in a place you aren't used to, and feeling very conspicuous, and very aware of the newspaper article you read last week about someone being beaten to death with a spade... well, its sometimes hard to be objective.
Also sometimes you just don't have the information you need to make an informed decision - sometimes I really just don't know if an area is safe or not. And its easy to give in to prejudices (for example, that poorer areas are automatically unsafe. Which is not necessarily the case).
So it might be a good idea to ask people who are more in the know than you.
2) If you decide that the danger is not real, teach yourself not to be afraid.
So in my case, having decided that hanging around the front of a high school in the township waiting for kids to arrive for extra math is not dangerous, what then? Even if I objectively decide its not dangerous, what if I still get a fright every time someone walks past, heart beating fast, thinking people are looking at me and so on?
Well, then you train yourself to not be scared.
So for me, this means parking my car and resisting the urge to keep it locked and wait for the kids inside my locked car. It means unlocking the door, opening it and sitting on the pavement. It means greeting people.
And after a while your brain will realise that the impending danger is not so impending.
Ah!! But what about desensitising yourself to dangerous situations? Couldn't that happen if you act like this?
And that is a hazard. Which is why you do need to assess situations for danger. And be careful, be alert, don't be in lonely places on your own and so forth. You don't even need to be afraid to be alert and careful.
And as you realise you don't always have to be afraid, your world will get bigger.
My brother and I used to play a computer game called Civilization, where you explored an unknown land and settled and built up a nation. The game was played on a map (sometimes of the Earth, but you could play in a fantasy world too), which showed the landscape and your cities and people and your opponent's cities and people. But the places you had never travelled to with any of your men were dark, just blanked out on the map. You didn't know what was happening there, if any opponents had settled there, or even what the landscape there was like if it was a fantasy map.
So as well as building up cities and so forth, a big part of the game was sending out your men to explore. And as you explored, as you went new places, you would see what was happening there. Other cities you could trade with (or destroy, it was quite a millitant game!), natural resources you could tap in to, good land to settle on.
And your map of the world became more and more open. And the blanked out sections became smaller and smaller.
And thats what letting go of fear can do for you. The blanked out sections of your world (geographic and otherwise) will become smaller and smaller.
Most white south African's are, I expect, pretty afraid of being in townships. Or maybe it was just me. But I think its a pretty common fear. Its not even a well defined fear - like a fear of being mugged or stabbed or a fear of death. Fears like that are not great, but they are understandable and justifiable. No one wants to be mugged! No, this fear is a sort of fear of general badness and the unknown. But that was particularly ineloquent, I know, perhaps someone else will be able to express it better.
Anyway, the first time a friend dropped me in the township near us to do extra math with some matric students I said I would be fine... "ja ja I'll be fine, see you later." But on the inside there was a terrified "AAAAARG!!!"
Especially when we realised the school I was dropped at (my lift having left) was closed, so we had to walk to a nearby library.
It was pretty ridiculous, in retrospect, but I was pretty scared.
Anyway, I've got over that fear now. This is roughly my technique for dealing with this kind of fear:
1) Evaluate, as best you can, if the danger is real.
If the danger is real, then leave!!
This is often a difficult thing to evaluate though, because when you are nervous and in a place you aren't used to, and feeling very conspicuous, and very aware of the newspaper article you read last week about someone being beaten to death with a spade... well, its sometimes hard to be objective.
Also sometimes you just don't have the information you need to make an informed decision - sometimes I really just don't know if an area is safe or not. And its easy to give in to prejudices (for example, that poorer areas are automatically unsafe. Which is not necessarily the case).
So it might be a good idea to ask people who are more in the know than you.
2) If you decide that the danger is not real, teach yourself not to be afraid.
So in my case, having decided that hanging around the front of a high school in the township waiting for kids to arrive for extra math is not dangerous, what then? Even if I objectively decide its not dangerous, what if I still get a fright every time someone walks past, heart beating fast, thinking people are looking at me and so on?
Well, then you train yourself to not be scared.
So for me, this means parking my car and resisting the urge to keep it locked and wait for the kids inside my locked car. It means unlocking the door, opening it and sitting on the pavement. It means greeting people.
And after a while your brain will realise that the impending danger is not so impending.
Ah!! But what about desensitising yourself to dangerous situations? Couldn't that happen if you act like this?
And that is a hazard. Which is why you do need to assess situations for danger. And be careful, be alert, don't be in lonely places on your own and so forth. You don't even need to be afraid to be alert and careful.
And as you realise you don't always have to be afraid, your world will get bigger.
My brother and I used to play a computer game called Civilization, where you explored an unknown land and settled and built up a nation. The game was played on a map (sometimes of the Earth, but you could play in a fantasy world too), which showed the landscape and your cities and people and your opponent's cities and people. But the places you had never travelled to with any of your men were dark, just blanked out on the map. You didn't know what was happening there, if any opponents had settled there, or even what the landscape there was like if it was a fantasy map.
So as well as building up cities and so forth, a big part of the game was sending out your men to explore. And as you explored, as you went new places, you would see what was happening there. Other cities you could trade with (or destroy, it was quite a millitant game!), natural resources you could tap in to, good land to settle on.
And your map of the world became more and more open. And the blanked out sections became smaller and smaller.
And thats what letting go of fear can do for you. The blanked out sections of your world (geographic and otherwise) will become smaller and smaller.
Youth Day thoughts on fear
I knew a man who lived in fear
it was huge it was angry
it was drawing near
Behind his house a secret place
was the shadow of the demon
he could never face.
This is the beginning of the song Weeping, by Bright Blue, 1987 (recently redone by Josh Groban).
Today is Youth Day in South Africa. It was one of the few things I blogged about last year. If you don't know what Youth Day is about you can go check out that post.
I'm trying to develop a habit of doing something to commemorate our public holidays. After all, most of these days are public holidays because they mark important events in our past. And remembering the past is important, and celebrating it or commemorating it, as is appropriate.
I hadn't planned anything for today because exams are ending here and I thought most people would be away today. So I thought I might write a blog entry on Youth Day, and leave it at that.
Then this morning a friend of mine messaged me to say he was going to an ANCYL (ANC Youth League) Youth Day rally today in the township near us, and would I like to come. And I thought that sounded like a great idea. I had some slight misgivings - I would probably be the only white face, and being a woman means safety is a bit of an issue. But I figured it would be fine if I went with someone I know. Anyway, to cut a long story short, after some discussion with various friends about potential safety issues, amongst other things, I decided not to go. Which was a bit sad but I didn't want to cause trouble, so I think it was best.
But the incident made me think about fear. I really really don't like my actions being dictated to by fear. I hate being afraid to walk at night, I hate being afraid to go certain places.
The lyrics at the top of this post are from a song about South Africa in the 80s.
"I knew a man who lived in fear," the lyrics go, "... He built a wall of steel and flame and men with guns to keep it tame" "... But the fear and the fire and the guns remain."
Fear is a massive issue in South Africa. For white South Africa especially. We build bigger walls, buy more expensive security systems. We don't drive certain places, certainly don't get out of the car in certain places.
And security is definately justified. And caution. Because crime is a real, pressing, issue in our country.
But there is a difference between caution and taking sensible measures to keep safe, and this irrational, pervasive fear. This feeling of being in danger all the time, the feeling of this pressing darkness, "here be dragons" on our mental maps of our towns and cities. Fear of people who are different to us. Fear of other people's anger.
Do you know why the police opened fire on school children on June 16, 1976? Do you know why police opened fire on unarmed protestors in Sharpville, 21 March 1960? As far as I know, there were no orders given for police to fire. On either occassion.
Its was a complex situation, no doubt, with many factors influencing the outcome. But fear must certainly have been one of them. Those police, surrounded by thousands of protestors. Their shooting justified to them by their fear.
This kind of fear, I say no to.
They had to conquer fear because submission to it would have meant that people of conscience would have had to betray their consciences...
Thursday, June 12, 2008
"tryin to brain wash the black man"
Yesterday my digsmates and a friend and I were discussing Barack Obama and his chances in the US elections. We were having a laugh about some of the craziness surrounding Obama: roads in Kenya being named after him, and children. Apparently some children are even being re-named Barack Obama!
So in the silliness we were speaking about Obama needing to secure US oil interests, and someone commented that he needs to get chummy with Gadaffi. Which is surely possible us all being African's, you know what I'm sayin'.
To our amusement this morning we found this article on News24:
Obama disappoints Gadhafi
"Though Gadhafi referred to Obama as "our brother, the Kenyan with American nationality", he also said he expected more from the Illinois Democrat."
The article led to a most hysterical string of emails this morning:
* Names changed to protect the identities of the emailing persons. Alyssa, for the record, is Greek.
So in the silliness we were speaking about Obama needing to secure US oil interests, and someone commented that he needs to get chummy with Gadaffi. Which is surely possible us all being African's, you know what I'm sayin'.
To our amusement this morning we found this article on News24:
Obama disappoints Gadhafi
"Though Gadhafi referred to Obama as "our brother, the Kenyan with American nationality", he also said he expected more from the Illinois Democrat."
The article led to a most hysterical string of emails this morning:
Maybe Chavez and Mugabe can band money together and give it to Obama as a "gift". You know us Africans we give away gifts. Almost like the gift Zuma gave Shaik. Then Obama can make a statement that he inetnds to use the money to build a Dam on the Congo to supply his fellow Africans!!!Thats way he placates Israel and is on the road to winning Gadhafi back!"Gadhafi suggested that Obama should promise to give Africa the money Washington allocates to Israel to "build a dam on the Congo River to supply the whole African continent with power."
Pamela*
I cant believe two intelligent ladies like yourselves have been fooled by this report. This is what is known as propaganda. They're tryin to brain wash the black man, so brother can turn against brother. I mean honestly, they didn't even spell Gadaffi's name right, it's Gadaffi not Gadhafi. I see thru this propaganda and may your eyes be opened too. Until i hear these words coming out of Comrade Gadaffi's mouth myself, i still stand that Gadaffi and Obama are a force to be reckoned with. Sisters this a just a tactic to try convince us that Comrade Obama is not on our side.
Power to the people!!!!
Moanique*
Moanique
how many times do we have to say this...its not always about the black people..what does Gadaffi/Gadahfi have to do about electing the US president. So because Prince Phillip is Queen Elizabeths husband i can say that he is not representing the Greeks...
Alyssa*
You Greeks have never had the same sort of togetherness as us Black folk. This is because the Greeks have never been persecuted! You have always been among the echelons of society, working ur way thru the high calss and often topping the high Class. For as long as I can remember, my people have been fighting to get to the top. Now, one of us has made it. All black people now unite to ensure that he is successful. His success is our success.One person, is the group. HALALA!
Pamela*
what are you talking about!!! we have neva been persecuted????
Let me tell you about us being persecuted by the bloody Turks and Germans! The turks have destroyed so much of our culture..taken our land and killed my people. And that is for over 100 years!!! Then the Germans came and just used our land for strategic purposes, made us slaves....
Zito Ellada!!!
Alyssa*
* Names changed to protect the identities of the emailing persons. Alyssa, for the record, is Greek.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Xenophobia in 1996
I just accidentally found this article in an old ANC publication:
Immigration Issue Must be Tackled.
Its interesting that in 1996 the Home Affairs deputy minister, Lindiwe Sisulu, was already calling xenophobia a problem:
It makes me wonder about some government leaders claiming shock and horror that South African citizens could do such a thing as these recent xenophobic attacks. Calling on third force involvement and criminal elements and so forth.
Maybe there were other factors involved in these recent attacks. And I hope some investigation will bring them to light, if they are.
But it doesn't seem quite honest of the government to claim to be surprised by xenophobia, if it was already discussing the problem of xenophobia in 1996.
Immigration Issue Must be Tackled.
Its interesting that in 1996 the Home Affairs deputy minister, Lindiwe Sisulu, was already calling xenophobia a problem:
There is no doubt the people of this country are becoming very xenophobic and the service we provide requires urgent overhaul, as immigration remains a problematic area.
...
Immigration policy is a touchy area. It has sparked xenophobic conflict. Often, the issues of legal and illegal immigrants are conflated in the minds of the public.
Most South Africans have not been exposed to people from outside [the country]. Apartheid itself was so structured that black and white were cocooned and very few, either than those who experienced the same treatment in exile, had such exposure. Now they find themselves almost overnight faced with the influx of people from other cultures very far even beyond the borders of this continent.
It makes me wonder about some government leaders claiming shock and horror that South African citizens could do such a thing as these recent xenophobic attacks. Calling on third force involvement and criminal elements and so forth.
Maybe there were other factors involved in these recent attacks. And I hope some investigation will bring them to light, if they are.
But it doesn't seem quite honest of the government to claim to be surprised by xenophobia, if it was already discussing the problem of xenophobia in 1996.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Going... Ape?
To continue our series on race:
My flatmates and some friends and I went through a Prison Break stage. We would rent a few Prison Break DVDs and spend an evening rivited to Michael Scofield(*) and Lincon Burrows. Good times.
If you have watched Prison Break you probably remember the epic "Lock down" episode in the first series. There is something like a huge riot in the prison , the prisoners are going crazy, the wardens are hiding out and the prison officials are trying to get things under control. So it's scary, people are being attacked, its anarchy in the section of the prison where the riot is going on. One of the main characters, a lady, is locked into a prison hospital room with crazed prisoners trying to break through the glass to get to her.
Now to further set the scene, I live with a rather vocal bunch of people. So we aren't watching Prison Break in tense silence. Oh no. There is chaos in our longue following the chaos on the TV screen. Lots of commenting and chatting and squealing.
Ok, so I've set the scene. The prisoners are running riot, we are watching them... Oh, and the final scene setting note: I was probably the only white person in the room. There may have been one or two more, but most of the TV watchers in our longue were probably black (and our Minoshni of course!).
In amidst all of this Prison Break chaos, Laura (me) comments "Oh they are going af!!!"
"... what Laura?"
"The're going af, the prisoners..."
"Uh Laura I think you mean 'going ape'" (says Minoshni, master of subtlety!)
"No, I mean 'going af.' Its an expression."
"Uuuh..."
"OH," says Laura, starting to blush, realising what she is saying: "oh I'M SORRY!!"
Needless to say I haven't used the expression since. Sad to say I had used it many many times before I realised in that moment that "going af" is shorthand for "going African." And it means, pretty much, behaving barbarically. Eish. Not great. But we had a good laugh about it!
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they had a good laugh about it, at my expense!
(*) Since this is a series on race, it might be worth noting that Wentworth Miller, who plays Michael Scofield in Prison Break, has the most wonderful ancestry:
"Miller has stated that his father is of African-American, Jamaican, English, German, Jewish and Cherokee ancestry, and that his mother is of Russian, French, Dutch, Lebanese and Syrian descent." (Ref: Wikipedia on Wentworth Miller)
My flatmates and some friends and I went through a Prison Break stage. We would rent a few Prison Break DVDs and spend an evening rivited to Michael Scofield(*) and Lincon Burrows. Good times.
If you have watched Prison Break you probably remember the epic "Lock down" episode in the first series. There is something like a huge riot in the prison , the prisoners are going crazy, the wardens are hiding out and the prison officials are trying to get things under control. So it's scary, people are being attacked, its anarchy in the section of the prison where the riot is going on. One of the main characters, a lady, is locked into a prison hospital room with crazed prisoners trying to break through the glass to get to her.
Now to further set the scene, I live with a rather vocal bunch of people. So we aren't watching Prison Break in tense silence. Oh no. There is chaos in our longue following the chaos on the TV screen. Lots of commenting and chatting and squealing.
Ok, so I've set the scene. The prisoners are running riot, we are watching them... Oh, and the final scene setting note: I was probably the only white person in the room. There may have been one or two more, but most of the TV watchers in our longue were probably black (and our Minoshni of course!).
In amidst all of this Prison Break chaos, Laura (me) comments "Oh they are going af!!!"
"... what Laura?"
"The're going af, the prisoners..."
"Uh Laura I think you mean 'going ape'" (says Minoshni, master of subtlety!)
"No, I mean 'going af.' Its an expression."
"Uuuh..."
"OH," says Laura, starting to blush, realising what she is saying: "oh I'M SORRY!!"
Needless to say I haven't used the expression since. Sad to say I had used it many many times before I realised in that moment that "going af" is shorthand for "going African." And it means, pretty much, behaving barbarically. Eish. Not great. But we had a good laugh about it!
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they had a good laugh about it, at my expense!
(*) Since this is a series on race, it might be worth noting that Wentworth Miller, who plays Michael Scofield in Prison Break, has the most wonderful ancestry:
"Miller has stated that his father is of African-American, Jamaican, English, German, Jewish and Cherokee ancestry, and that his mother is of Russian, French, Dutch, Lebanese and Syrian descent." (Ref: Wikipedia on Wentworth Miller)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
