Remember Your Home Address

"History is the Home Address"
Mongane Wally Serote

we lay there then
and the night
in its buzz
purred time which was passing
it passed slowly
this time
and we were not aware of its passing

as night followed into day and day into night
we lay in dialogue
she asked -
why are they asking if he is fit to rule?
and the cricket
and the purr of the fridge
and the heaviness of the darkness
and the night without breeze or noise
answered in silence

and I asked -
who are they that ask that?
she turned face up
and we shuffled a distance between us

must I believe that
I asked
that there was a pre-colonial time
there was slave trade
there was colonialism
there was apartheid
and because these were there
there is racism
who must I ask in these times of agreement
who must I ask when it seems there are no witnesses
in this time when the burden of the past is also mine?
with no accomplices there have been no perpetrators
who
who must I ask?

...

I panic
in the daylight and the darkness of the night
I pray they may hear
that they may help him
that they may protect him
that they may be kind to him, their son
not to fall into the acid
which acided so many
when he says - there are two nations here
one white and rich
one black and poor
it is the truth
don't they know?
don't they know
that if you go away -
remember your home address
why do they expect him to forget his?
they have not forgotten theirs

...

beloved,
I said
beloved,
she said
what must we learn from our home?

don't forget your address
if you go away
when they ask you
where you come from
search for the address and give them
ah!
when you return
you must know where to go

she said -
history is the home address
it resides in you
it is your sanctuary and you its sanctuary
if you don't know it
or remember it
if you throw it away
its like you enter the desert
where there is just sand and sand and sand,
she said

...

I found this poem a few months ago, scratching in the library for something else. Its long, nearly 70 pages, so I've just typed up extracts from the beginning section here.

It is all set in a conversation between a man and a women, lying in bed, burdened by the state of South African and Africa and trying to make sense of it all, finding their own places in it all. They go on to speak about various other African countries, about images of African people: the soldier, the intellectual, the strong woman, the leaders... they talk through AIDS and poverty, military conflicts, life, culture and important historical events.

I think it is a really beautiful poem, and strong too. Probably what I like most about it is how real it is: a conversation between two people with heavy things on their hearts. The hanging questions, "who killed him" "on whose side are you?", the silences and lapses in conversation where they are involved in their own thoughts, minds wandering to this and that, looking for answers, hopelessness sometimes, hope sometimes.

My favourite poems are poems that make you feel something. And here I felt their confusion and conviction and despair. Which, to me, makes it a beautiful poem. And if they make you feel something, they've opened your eyes and made your world a bit bigger, to see bigger than yourself.

This is a poem about identity, ultimately, and where people find their identities. History is your home address, they conclude. Their answer is that we find our home in our history, this where we come from and how we understand our place in it all. The stories of our people, our exploits and trials, our leaders and our culture. And if we forget where we come from, we lose part of ourselves.

Its coming from a pretty traditional African worldview, so there is lots of emphasis on finding your identity from the group, on the spiritual and on the ancestors. Hence the answer "History is your home address" - you will find yourself in your people and their history, "I am because we are."

Some of these aspects of it are a bit at odds with my own worldview, but I think it holds a lot of truth. And it reminds me of how God exhorted the Israelites to remember their past, and remember what he had done for them:

Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you.
Deuteronomy 32:7

And now for something completely different.

I know this is quite frivolous, but I used to be quite an ardent Isidingo fan. (The reason for the wikipedia link, rather than the official website link, is that the official site requires you to register before you actually get any information. No thank you.)

For the benefit of non-South Africans: Isidingo (Isi) is a South African soapie, on at 6:30 every weekday evening.

The major thing that turned me away from Isi was Rajesh and Lee breaking up. That was sad for me... Rajesh was Mr Moral High Ground and he slowly became more and more dubious until he is now crazed and in jail. That was almost the end of Isi for me. Rajesh was my favourite character.

I still watch every now and then, when I find myself in from of the TV at 6:30. Which of course is often enough to follow the plot sortof. It is a soapie after all.

After the demise of Rajesh's character, the one beacon of light for me was Parsons and Nandipha. I dig Parsons, I dig Nandipha. I dug their relationship.

And now thats going south too! Whats going on??
Maybe I'm an atypical viewer, but I actually like shows where people have healthy devoted relationships, where people love each other and sacrifice for each other and what not. Am I alone in that? Are other viewers only interested in skande? Are the scriptwriters running out of ideas?

I like interesting plot lines, for sure. But come on, why are you messing with Parsons and Nandipha?




But actually this post was inspired by Parsons new lady friend, Thandi. Did anyone notice in Isidingo tonight that while she was getting ready for dinner with him her hair was curled. Then at dinner it was straight. Then after dinner it was curled again?

Come now Isidingo!

In the archives

My mother is a librarian. So she always insisted that I keep newspaper clippings of important events.

I was thinking about how to celebrate Freedom Day (tomorrow) when I remembered this, and I scratched around for them. And found a most enormous pile of newspaper clippings, starting from about 1992! What an exciting find! Thank the Lord for my mother!

I've been going through them, and here are some classics:

The 1992 referendum.

Apartheid is over! (March 1992, after the referendum)


Voter info, 1993.


Beans and candles, remember? :)


That day, 27 April 1994. Look at the queue of people waiting to vote.


Down with the old flag, up with the new.


And finally, for good measure:

Winnie's hat!

If I find more good ones I'll upload them later. What a trip down memory lane! It really made me remember how exciting it all was.

Celebrating Freedom Day

South Africa celebrates Freedom Day on 27 April, the day of our first democratic elections in 1994. The day that marked the beginning of the New South Africa. I blogged about it last year.

I remember sitting in my lab in front of my old computer writing that post. It was written with a really heavy heart because another year had passed without me doing anything to celebrate Freedom Day.

Christmas comes with hosts of traditions. Even people who aren't Christians and who don't celebrate the religious foundation of Christmas usually have family traditions on Christmas. Getting together for a meal. Turkey. Small change in your Christmas pudding. Presents. A tree. And Easter. Easter eggs and Easter hunts. And of course the many religious events that mark those days too. The USA has Thanksgiving, repleat with weird vegetable and marshmellow dishes, pumpkin pie, re-enactments of pilgrims and indians. We have traditions for birthdays too: in my family its opening presents together in the morning, and usually a birthday meal at some stage. There must be a million examples from a million cultures worldwide, of ways to celebrate important events.

Now with the newness of the New South Africa comes all of these important new days. Like Freedom Day, Youth Day and others. Important days, days that the nation has set aside to celebrate aspects of our past.

But because of the newness, we also have no traditions to structure our celebration of those days.

Actually, I should put in a disclaimer at this point: generally speaking, black South Africans have a pretty strong political culture, and from my observations they often seem to have well attended celebratory events. Afrikaans South Africans, too, have a remarkably rich assortment of traditions around the holidays that are most important to them. Leaving of course my people, white English speaking South Africans.

To some degree I agree with Sandile Memela in his blog and his column in the Daily Dispatch today, that we should just get over ourselves and join the general Freedom Day (or Youth Day or whatever...) celebrations, the rallies in stadiums with government speakers, or whatever events we see organised. And I agree that many white South Africans really don't care to celebrate these days, and that is a shameful thing.

But I think he goes too far to call it a boycott.

I want to celebrate Freedom Day. I have friends who want to celebrate Freedom Day. I just don't know how to do it. There is no precedent for me, celebrating Freedom Day. No food we always eat, no place we always go, no songs we always sing, no traditions at all.

So this year some friends and I decided to have a Freedom Day party. I've been trying to organise it quite last minute so I hope it works out. But we haven't quite figured out what to *do* at this party. As I said, we have no songs to sing, or food to eat, or places to go.

So we are probably going to try organise it around the theme of remembering Freedom Day, and sharing stories and memories and thoughts and readings on freedom in general and Freedom Day, 27 April 1994, in particular.

So we'll see how it goes.

Someone needs to start the ball rolling, Someone needs to come up with foods to traditionally eat and songs to traditionally sing and stories to traditionally recite. A Freedom Day liturgy, as it were.

So we'll try.

I think I'm willing

This morning I took my car to the garage. Its still there, poor thing. Looks like something is wrong with the clutch which is unfortunately a pricey thing to go wrong.

Anyway, I was getting out of my car over the road from the garage when a man came to ask me for money. He said he was from Port Alfred and needed to collect more money before he went home. I'm not sure if that mean he needed money for transport home or to actually take home.

Anyway I have a "don't give money" policy so I said I wouldn't give him any money. But I hate that we always have to say no. I hate that we become desensitised to people's needs and the conditions people live in. I hate that I get used to saying no and walking on and forgetting.

I know that its not wisdom to give beggars money, for various reasons. So I don't.

But you know, I wish that I lived in a world where, when someone comes to ask me to help out with R10 for transport because they are stuck, I can freely give. I wish that I lived in the world where I felt safe to give lifts to hitch-hikers and people with broken down cars. Or where I can feel happy giving some change for kids taking up a collection for soccer uniforms or dance uniforms, rather than being worried that the money is going to drugs. Where I can freely give to the lady who asks me for money towards her brother's funeral or the man who asks me for money for paraffin. Or the old lady from the rurals who comes in to town, only to find she doesn't have enough money to buy the pre-paid electricity she needs.

I want to live in that world. And the only way I can live in it, is to try.

People are not always honest. People's intentions aren't always good. And sometimes giving in these sorts of circumstances just perpetuates the problem. I know this. So we do need wisdom in how to give and when to give and what to give.

But I never want to accept that habitual "no".

So I gave this man one of the muffins I was taking to work for lunch. And he still wanted money, but thats ok. At least he got a muffin and I held on to some of the softness of my heart. And I could treat him like a person and not just a nuisance.

As I was getting out the muffin I realised my back-pack was open and badly exposed, if he had wanted to he could have taken my cell phone and maybe even my wallet and just ran. Thankfully he didn't. And as I walked into the garage after my exchange with him the mechanic told me he had been watching me speak to this man, and that I should be careful.

And I am definitely all for wisdom and all for protecting ourselves and our property. Definately, we can't be naive.

But you know what, I think I'm willing to lose a cell phone if it means I can spend my life speaking to people rather than brushing them off. Or to find myself played by people with long sob-stories once in a while, if it means I'm sometimes actually meeting people's needs and making people's lives better.

I wish there was a formula or a rule book for how to deal with these situations. But there isn't.
And I know that I can be a bit of a sucker, and I sometimes have a problem saying no. And I know that I mustn't give from guilt or from being manipulated.

But the great gain of treating people with dignity and giving where I can and feel is best, I think I'm willing to risk a bit, and lose a bit, for that.

The Mystery Unveiled, Part 1

The unfathomable mystery of a black woman's hair. If you have been kept awake at night wondering about the difference between a weave and a weft, braids and corn rows, then this is the post for you. If you have so wanted to ask "Is that real?" but never worked up the courage... read on!

During my past several years of living with black girls I have been baptised into the often complicated, always painful, and sometimes downright harrowing world of the black woman's hair.

Ok, to begin with, if you have to ask the question, "Is that real?" it probably isn't. Or at least, partially isn't.

The black women I know spend an awful amount of time and effort on their hair. This usually revolves around a regular visit to some sort of salon, or friend, or even random person with hair skills. Now this is a real event. As a white women you are probably comparing this to your experiences in the hair salon getting a cut. Don't. This is like comparing the latest copy of Fair Lady to Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karinina. They may both have words and sentences and pages, but the similarity is about that deep. White woman, you have only dabbled in the shallows of hair care.

For the black woman, this regular hair even lasts at the very least a couple of hours, and it sometimes stretches to two days. Depending on the environment, it could entail caring for the children of your hair dresser or feeding the longsuffering souls who are doing your hair. If you are going to a more informal sort of salon, possibly run from someones home, it will probably entail waiting for a couple of hours while other people's hair is finished off.

Now the length of this whole process depends primarily on what exactly you are going to your hair. Now this is where you hear phrases like corn rows and braids and weaves and wefts and bonding and yucky bulk. And frankly, I'm entirely out of my league here. So let me just tell you about some of the styles I have seen, knowing hat I am not doing justice to this huge topic.

Corn rows: This is where you braid your hair, almost like french plaitting it, close to your head. This is pretty fast, as hair styles go. And you can style it in different ways, making patterns with the corn rows.

Braids: Now I think this is a generic term that can also include corn rows. But here I use it to mean when your hair looks like it is in many many plaits. This can either take quite quick or very very long, depending on the size of the braids you are getting. You can get thick braids, maybe half a centimeter or so in diameter - that will be pretty quick as hair goes. On the other side, you can get tiny tiny braids, that are maybe a millimeter or so in diameter. Now we are talking about 24 hours of braiding to get your hair done...
These sorts of braids are now falling into the "hair extensions" category, because it isn't just your own hair in those little plaits. With your own hair you plait in some sort of hair extension stuff. This is what the mysterious and unfortunately named "yacky bulk" is. The hair extensions are either synthetic hair or real hair that you buy in a packet from a shop. And depending on how thick you want your individual braids to be and how thick you want your full head of braided hair to be, you could buy two or three packets of hair extensions to braid into your hair. Yacky bulk is just one of the kinds of hair extensions. And of course hair extensions come in the high end brought-back-from-a-posh-salon-in-Zimbabwe kind right down to the low end bought-at-Pep-stores kind.

... to be continued.

A few of my favourite things, Part 2

Its funny how blog my entries end up getting so long. I really try and keep them short and readable but when I actually post them up they always end up longer than I think they will be.

My blog entry A few of my favourite things, for example, was really meant to be about something else entirely. Then the introduction got so long I had to cut it short.

So here is Part 2, what that blog entry was really meant to be about.

So I was lingering in the African / South African section of Exclusive books, my favourite section. To get to that section of the East London Exclusive books you have to pass by the extensive Christian section. The Christian section is pretty huge, I think it probably has more books that some soley Christian book stores I've been to. I often browse the Christian book section too, but usually only after drooling over the African / South African section.

The other day a friend of mine asked me if I like reading Christian books. I do, yes. I have quite a few Christian teaching books on my book shelf. And I've been engrossed in my fair share of Francine Rivers.

There are tons of great books in the Christian section. Novels. Christian classics: Brother Lawrence, C.S. Lewis. Bible commentaries I would really love - man, some verses are cryptic sometimes. I could use all the insight I can get into the Bible. And inspirational books. Books that share people's insights and revelations on certain topics. That unpack Biblical teaching in certain areas. Lately I've also noticed a new genre in the Christian books section, of more contemporary out of the box books about Christian living. Like Blue like Jazz (which I own, and love, and recommend), Velvet Elvis (which I haven't read, but would like to) and The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical (which I read part of then had to return to its owner, and highly recommend). Those books are exciting.

Yup, I dig the Christian book section. I always find a lot I would love to read. In fact, the sheer volume of Christian teaching and inspirational writing is a bit overwhelming sometimes.

But I nervously admit, the Christian book section just doesn't draw me quite the way the African / South African section does. I'm quite frugal... not easily parted with my money. But I must say I would rather pay R150 for Robert Sobukwe's biography or Steve Biko's book than... almost anything else. A new Bible commentary included, I'm afraid.

So I was thinking about this the other day. And I realised a few things.

It is good, it is definately good, to read the Bible, study it, read books that give us insight into it. To read books that give us insight into God and his work on the earth. To read books that lead us to love God more. And love people more.

But these books aren't always going to be "Christian books." The won't always be in the "Christian book" section.

God made us all with different things we carry in our heart, different interests and concerns and passions. Maybe your heart beats for children or business leadership or education or history or worldviews. Maybe your heart beats to fight for downtrodden people. To conserve our planet. Or to bring truth and beauty into art and literature and media. To see sick people healed and communities restored. Maybe you're really creative and you hate cheeseyness. Who knows.

The things that make our hearts beat faster, when we are in that place where we are being who God made us to be and pursuing the things he put in our hearts, thats very often where we find God.

We can meet God in a book about prayer. Or a devotional book. But we can also meet God in a book about refugee camps, if that is a subject that grips our hearts. And draws us to him with our anger and questions, our petitions, our hopes and our day dreams.

If God is more real to me in the African / South African section, then that is where I must be.

The UFS video

In the spirit of blogging about current events, let me say my overdue 2c worth about the UFS racist video.

To start, it was completely revolting, unacceptable, and no excuse can be made for it.

When we heard about this video there was shock and outrage and anger. This incident could fracture race relations in the country, people said. It has sullied our country's reputation in the eyes of the world, it has undermined our nation's progress so far. And so on and so on along those lines.

Now it was revolting and I think we should respond with anger. And more anger as the students and their parents tried to excuse their behaviour.

But really, surprise? Shock? We already knew that UFS was battling to integrate residences. I read a blog the other day where the author had written "Those of us from the Free State were not surprised to see the disgusting behavior of a group of white students at the university..."

And we all know that there are racist people in South Africa. Some very racist people, some less racist people. We all know stories of, or have first hand experience with, racism and racist incidences. It may be more concentrated in some areas than others, or more open in some areas than others, but we all know that racism is all over the place really. In fact, we all have some level of racist thinking. Because we are fallen human beings and because of the environment we grew up in. What did this video tell us that we didn't already know?

It wasn't so long ago, remember, that our national blood banks threw away all black people's blood. When it was reported that they did this there was a huge uproar and ultimately they have been forced to change. To my shame, I admit that I had known that the blood services did that... forever. Since I was a kid.

We do need to stand up and speak out about these things. We need to recognise wrongs and to change them. We really do. But its also about acknowledging that actually, yes, we do have these problems. We can't pretend they are not here. We may have a fine constitution, but the finest constitution can't change a man's heart and mind. We may have all gone to the polls 27 April 1994, but we didn't all magically come to love each other that day.

I was speaking to a guy a met at a conference book table the other day. Actually, its probably more fair to say he was speaking to me. He was telling me about transformation and reconcilliation, and the challenge of our country moving forward with these two tasks, when they are not always entirely complementary. And he mentioned the UFS video incident and said that he thinks that this is a good time for this sort of thing to happen. Because it is a good time for us to be working on reconcilliation. Better its out in the open, where we can talk about it deal with it.

There has been pretty much universal condemnation of the video, as far as I can see. Which is encouraging. So while that video was definitely a bad thing, it hurt the people involved and was incredibly racist and insulting, it gave us as a nation the opportunity to condemn those sorts of actions. To say to those involved and the people who align themselves with those students and their attitudes: "that is not acceptable."

The UFS video made a farce of our claim to be the rainbow nation, people said. Well I contend that we are the rainbow nation simply because of the spectrum of people who are citizens of this nation. Not because of how we treat each other or how we feel about each other or even how we cooperate with each other. We are the rainbow nation because we are. And unless huge sections of our population leave, we will remain the rainbow nation. A patchwork of races and cultures.

The question to answer is: "Can we make this rainbow nation work?" And that can't be answered by a constitution or politicians or universities. It can't even be answered by rallies and marches and referendums or famous authors (or bloggers!) with profound things to say. Making it work is the responsibility of millions of people going about their daily lives. Going to work and standing in shopping queues and teaching their children.

Its in these ordinary pictures of the mundanity of South African life that we will find reason to hope or reason to despair.

Blogs that caught my eye

I was surfing the interwebz (as my brother insists on calling the internet, for reasons unknown to me) last night and I somehow came across a bevy of South African blogs. Some interesting, some not so much. Here are some of the blogs that caught my eye yesterday or in the past:

• Communist University - Maybe it sounds a bit sinister, but this guy always has an interesting take on current events with lots of great references. Its well worth reading, if only for a different perspective on things.
• Reggie - Self-described as "a Piece of my mind on public issues, post-colonial faith, reconciliation and anti-racism, but in general, my take on what happens around me." I don't know what post-colonial faith is, but it sounds interesting.
• I write what I like - Clearly this guy is a Steve Biko fan.
• thinking aloud - Pitso's "wide spectrum of thoughts... from South African politics, current affairs, religious debates and many other topics..." Looks like a great blog.
• Musings - I love this visible policing pic :) And look at that, a post about my arch nemesis home affairs. Good one dude.
  

Maybe I'll add to the list when I find more interesting ones. I was browsing the South African blogs on Amatomu but I really didn't find much interesting stuff at all. Something I like about the blogs above is that they all have something to say about current affairs... and its always good to hear different people's takes on the goings on of the world, and the goings on in South Africa in particular.

Perhaps I should let it inspire me to write more thoughts on current events...

A few of my favourite things

I took a walk down to Exclusive Books today. I love Exclusive Books. I love book shops. I love books actually, thats the bottom line. I wish I could walk into Exclusive Books with a couple of thousand rands and just feel free to buy.

The section I always linger longest in in Exclusive is the African / South African section. Thats where I got Albert Luthuli's autobiography, for example, and Colour Bar, the story of Seretse Khama and his wife. I spend more time there wishing I could buy books than actually buying books, sadly!

So today I perused the African / South African section and added to my list of books I would like to buy: Unbowed by Wangari Maathai, To The Brink by Xolela Mangcu. I'd rather like to read After the Party by Andrew Feinstein too. Cyril Ramaphosa's biography by Anthony Butler, Believe in Mairacles by Gerald Shaw. Amongst others. I'd really like to get hold of books about Oliver Thambo and Walter Sisulu, but I haven't found much yet. I've seen Oliver Tambo Remembered, but its a compilation of pieces by various people remembering him, and tributes to him. I'd rather read some sort of biography first. Oliver Tambo Remembered is also heinously expensive. Maybe I'll shell out for it when it comes out in soft cover.

I read Athol Fugard's Tsotsi recently and it completely ruined the movie for me. The book was amazing. In many ways the movie is true to the book, but it made changes here and there and the ending is entirely different. The most grievous difference for me, though, is that the movie lost so much of the depth of the book. I enjoyed the movie when I watched it, thought some parts disturbed me, and I was quite proud that it was a South African production. But now I just see it as a shallow attempt at the book.

Another book that made quite an impact on me was I Write What I Like by Steve Biko. For some reason I suddenly decided last year that I must read it, and I must read it immediately. So I searched for it *everywhere*. You would not believe the number of libraries that had copies of it that had gone missing. I eventually found it in a bookshop and bought it before it could disappear and while I was paying for it the shop assistant told me I was lucky to get it, that it was the last copy. I tore through it so fast that I should probably read it again to let it all sink in. One day, I confess, I took it to work with me and just sat in front of my computer and read it. It was pretty intense, it put me off life (and food) for a while.

My mom bought me Some of My Best Friends are White by Ndumiso Ngcobo for Christmas. Its a real laugh, but very crude in places so I can't really wholeheartedly recommend it, unfortunately. But its very funny, and insightful, and its probably the kind of book we need in South Africa at the moment. In that its quite light hearted but its also not afraid to tackle some really taboo subjects. Its a real people book, which I like.

I'm busy working my way through How Can Man Die Better? by Benjamin Pogrund, which is Robert Sobukwe's biography. I'm enjoying it but its quite heavy reading, so I've been reading it between other things.

Of course, there are always the Ladies No. 1 Detective Agency books, which are a great delight!

And Albert Luthuli's autobiography Let My People Go is a must read for *everyone*. Yes, everyone. Read it. You can borrow it from me if you want, just return it on pain of death.

Worth noting

Some quotes worth noting:

Politically we stand for government of the Africans for the Africans by the Africans with everybody who owes his only loyalty to Africa and accepts the democratic rule of an African majority, being regarded as an African.

- Robert Sobukwe, article in Contact, 30 May (year?) (reproduced in How Can Man Die Better, The life of Robert Sobukwe, by Benjamin Pogrund)

Laws and conditions that tend to debase human personality - a God-given force - be they brought about by the State or other individuals, must be relentlessly opposed in the spirit of defiance shown by St. Peter when he said to the rulers of his day: "Shall we obey God or man?"

- Albert Luthuli, The Road to Freedom is via the Cross

My African soul: Two encounters.

I spent some time last year at a university in a small US city. I saw an "African evening" advertised at the university housing I was accommodated in, so I took my homesick self along to it. There I was introduced to a man, Mark*, who was supposedly also South African. I couldn't hear him too well over the music, but it appeared that he lived in the US and spent regular time in Cape Town lecturing courses at UCT. He made noises about his heart really being African, or something to that effect. He had a very strange accent, and he was wearing a hand-woven pants leather shoes African-soul getup.

On the plane back from that trip to the US, I ended up sitting next to Robyn*, a South African lady, blonde and elegant, who must have been in her early thirties. By this stage I had become wary of speaking to South African's outside of South Africa (see What I learned in the USA and Heather's great comment) so sitting next to her didn't fill me with gladness. But we got chatting and she turned out to be very lovely, we chatted about our experiences in the US and how we found it different from South Africa, and all sorts of things. She was definitely proudly South African. I've forgotten a lot of the conversation, but I remember her telling me about her maid finding out she had AIDS and how they are working through it and that sort of thing. And her saying that she wanted her work, which was in the medical field, to be part of building South Africa. And how she agonised over medical fees and tried to convince her partners to do more pro bono work.

On the other side of me was a Bosnian girl, Nina*, who was also a pleasure to sit next to. All three of us chatted for a while and Nina girl brought up affirmative action, which she was obviously very against. I held my breath because I know this is a sensitive issue to many white South Africans. There was a pause. Robyn didn't step in so I felt I had to. Hesitantly, gently, very carefully, I explained that affirmative action is necessary for us. I was very gentle, I didn't want to make enemies of my new South African friend, who I was on a 16 hour flight with. To my great delight, when I was finished Robyn agreed with what I had said and furthered it with some examples from her own experience of working with selection committees and the like, grappling to decide who were the most fair and promising candidates for bursaries. Nina was unmoved.

I doubt Robyn would claim to have an African soul, or anything to that effect. I seriously doubt she has any hand woven garments, and I am almost entirely certain she does not have any leather velskoen type shoes. So does that mean Robyn isn't a real South African? Or a real African? Is Mark a real South African, with his all natural clothes and "African soul"?

I confess I was quite angry after meeting Mark. It took me a while to sort through all my feelings but I eventually decided that my anger was because Mark was almost a picture of a stereotype American people have of Africans, certainly white people in Africa. A bit weird. Hippyish. The whole Mother Africa and Africa-is-so-spiritual-man business. It almost felt like he was using all those symbols so say to the world "I am an African!" to claim something about himself that might not even have any substance. I didn't speak to him for long, so I must say that my assumptions about him could be way off. But if he just spends a month lecturing at UCT every year, then what is that? What does being an African mean to him? Beyond some sentimental identification?

Then we have Robyn. No pretense, she probably has some very un-PC opinions. She would call herself a South African, and an African. But not with the same gusto or weird self-importance as Mark. Being a South African isn't a badge for her, its just who she is, where her heart is invested. And for her, her heart is invested in a broken South African, where we grapple with the issues of crime and AIDS and racism and poverty. Where we feel helpless sometimes, despair other times, fearful sometimes, hopeful sometimes, proud sometimes.

Then Mark, perhaps also invested in South Africa. It is, after all, where his heart is. Or so he says. But does his Africa even exist? What is that Africa he belongs to in his mind? Are there AIDS orphans in his Africa? Home Affairs bungling? Eskom rolling blackouts? Has he cried when we won a rugby world cup? Has he ever been turned away from a job he so wanted, and told the reason was affirmative action? Has his car been stolen? Has he stood in a queue to vote and been awed and the men and women who died to make such days possible for all South Africans? Has he ever watched Isidingo? And been glad that they are moving to multiple languages?

Because that is the South Africa I live in. That is the South Africa Robyn lives in. That is the South Africa another 48 million of our fellow citizens live in. Broken, but alive with possibility.

If this isn't Mark's South Africa, then I don't know what is means for him to call himself a South African. But I know what it means for Robyn to call herself a South African. And I know what it means for me to call myself a South African.

What is means to be a South African, or an African... its quite a topic. I could say more and I'm sure anyone reading this will have their own ideas. But the images of these two people have stuck with me.

* Names changed

State of the Nation Address

I was waiting to hear the State of the Nation Address by Thabo Mbeki today. Its funny how people spent pages speculating about what he was going to say.

Anyway, I thought it was a *great* speech, but then I am a bit of a Thabo Mbeki fan. There seem to have been mixed reactions to it, with some people saying it was great (Jacob Zuma, for example, seems to have approved) and some people not being pleased at all. Helen Zille, for example, wrote a scathing response to it. Which I think was a bit petty really. Maybe they thought they had more favour with him than they did, maybe they saw him as more removed from the ANC than he is. But he is there as representative of the ANC after all. And he is an ANC man, of course, and losing at Polokwane doesn't make that any less true.

But anyway, what do I know!

He ended with the optimistic:

Having said all that I have said, I come back to the question: what is the state of our nation as we enter 2008!

What I do know and hereby make bold to say is: whatever the challenges of the moment, we are still on course!

For the full text of the State of the Nation Address, go here.
And for a *wonderful* four sentence long summary of the 16 page long speech, go here.

Dear President Mbeki

Stealing my style from Gavin Foster (who called me "a humble person with much to be humble about." Which is quite true of course.):



ATT: President Thabo Mbeki

Dear President Mbeki

As a South African citizen and enthusiastic reader of ANC Today, I just want to let you know how much I miss your weekly letter. Perhaps its for the best as it must have taken up a truly disproportionate amount of your time. But nonetheless, its a real loss.

Today I found myself lingering over a volume of Xhosa poetry at Exclusive Books. Probably something I never would have looked twice at before reading your "We are children of a rich heritage."**

Even though I sometimes disagreed with what you were saying, I loved being able to see what you felt was important enough to write about. I loved the insights your letters offered into current events and other topics relevant to our nation. I loved to hear you respond in your own words and from your own conviction to various topical issues in South Africa. I loved that there were so many things you wanted to write about, to tell people about. I loved having my world expanded by topics or ideas I hadn't thought much about before, or from angles I hadn't considered them from.

I first subscribed to ANC Today becasue I kept seeing it referred to in Mail and Guardian stories and I thought I might as well go to the source. I never regretted signing up and every Friday I looked forward to some interesting reading in my inbox.

It looks like things have changed for ANC Today. I so enjoyed your letters and the additional pieces by other people. I hope the new ANC Today manages to continue in the same spirit you led it with.

And if I can make one request, as your audience, I ask that you carry on writing! Start a blog, write a book, write a column somewhere. But I hope that your stepping down from the President's letter in ANC Today isn't the end of us seeing you in print.

Thank you.

Regards,
Laura



** Incidentally, that 28 September 2007 volume of ANC Today also included a piece entitled "Economic growth needs affordable and sustainable energy." FYI to people who thought the governement weren't thinking about these issues till January this year.

What I learned in the USA

I was in the USA for October and November last year for PhD work, in a small town called Urbana/Champaign. Well actually its two towns, Urbana and Champaign. Once they were separate but they are completely merged now. I was at the University of Illinois (UIUC) there. So half of the university is in Urbana and half is in Champaign. Not that they are different campusses, there is just a demarcation that this half is Urbana, the other half is Champaign.

But I digress, this post is about "What I learned in the USA"

1. International air travel is not as scary as I thought. Also, a 16 hour flight is not unlike a 16 hour bus trip.

2. I identify with African people way way more than US people. Every time I met an African person - from anywhere in Africa - I felt like I'd just met a homie.

3. Wow those American folks have amazing team spirit, some days every second or third person I saw on campus would be wearing UIUC team spirit clothing.

4. Its weird meeting South African people who have emigrated (not the Kemball's, in case you ever read this! Other people I met). There are just so many reasons people have left and I think people carry baggage from their time in SA and their leaving.
I met one South African couple who emigrated many years ago now and it was just too awkward, I think they actually didn't want to meet other South Africans.

5. You know what democracy looks like? It looks like televised *incredibly boring* city council meetings where everyone and their dog has time to have their say about the new rent laws or the inner city parking system or their plumbing issues. It also looks like plackards on people's front lawns that say "Impeach" or "Stop the war."

6. "Having an accent" is novel for about a week, when people comment on how cute your accent is... then it just becomes irritating. Then it just becomes burdensome. "Can I please have a glass of water?" "Water." "W-a-t-e-r." "WATER!" "WAADER" "oooh ok..."

7. The local church is the hope of the world.

8. American people are great. American's are taking alot of flack from the world at the moment, but I think people should just examine their attitudes for a moment. If someone spoke about black people / Indian people / Jewish people / etc. the way people often speak about American's, people would be horrified. American people are like people anywhere, some good some bad. I met some very friendly, funny, fun, humble people. And really not as insular or arrogant as people sometimes expect they are...

The flag

I've had this blog post sitting in my mind for weeks not, but I'm so nervous writing it. Because I want to get it right, I want to express it well. So here goes...

Does anyone remember the Song of the Flag? We used to sing it at school some times. I much preferred it to the old national anthem, it was alot more jivey. I googled for it and found it, but that is another blog post for another day. Today I want to write about the flag that song was about, the old South African flag.




I could tell you a bit about the history of the flag, but if you're reading this you all have google and wikipedia available to you, so I won't bother. What I think is most interesting for us now is what the old South African flag represents.

You still see the old flag flown every now and then. Sometimes at rugby matches, you might see a couple dotted around the crowd. In an article in the Daily Dispatch on December 27, Akona Ndungane, a springbok rugby player, called for them to be banned at matches. "We need to look at the future." he said "I definately think those flags should be banned. It would be a step forward."

I think many people would agree with that. Because that old flag is an offensive symbol really. Unless you are waving it in complete ignorance, which I doubt many are, it's making quite a blatant statement. A statement that you reject the new South Africa and that you are holding on to the old. That you look back to the days where (white) South African's could proudly wave that old flag, that things were better then.

Which is offensive. The vast vast majority of our country's citizens weren't even considered citizens under the regime represented by that flag. And that's what people are approving of, when they fly the old flag. That's very offensive.

But I was considering the flag a while back and it occurred to me that maybe our reaction to it needent be outrage or offense. It was an offense because it represented oppression, violence, taking away people's humanity. But when we look at it today, we see it representing a regime that lost. We see it powerless. For people who yearn for the old South Africa, they can fly flags and sing songs to their hearts content, but it will never return.

Ironically, a symbol that represented so much evil and so much destruction now represents a pitiful longing of a very tiny fraction of South African's to return to a past which perhaps they saw as glorious, although it wasn't. A pitiful useless longing for a past that never even existed. A symbol of power and brutality that is now a pitiful symbol of defeat.

Not to say the new South Africa is perfect, but its definitely not going back to the old. And to people who still wish for for the old, my heart if filled with sadness for them, and pity. Maybe some anger, from time to time, but mostly just pity. And the hope that their eyes will be opened to see the emptiness of the old, and the beauty of the new.

Eskom Survival Tips #1

Todays tip: Using your computer UPS to power other things

Look at the back of your UPS - there should be a few similar plugs, one is connected to your computer, maybe another is connected to your monitor. The plugs are kettle plugs - like the ones you plug into your kettle, if your kettle has a detachable plug. The UPS plugs are the female side. There may be one or two free plugs, in which case you are in business! One of the plugs might be a surge protector, in which case you could maybe move your monitor onto that if you are not actually intending to work on your computer during a power out.

Ok, so now what we want is to hook that extra UPS female kettle plug to a form you can actually attach things to. In my case, I want to run an external harddrive off it. But you could boil a kettle, I suppose, or a run a radio or whatever. I'm not sure how long the power will last, it will depend on how much there is loading your UPS. It will need some experimentation to find out. And it will depend on the specs of your UPS too, of course.

Ok, so we want that female kettle plug hooked up to give power to say a normal 2-prong or 3-prong multi-plug.
So what you do is:

Step 1: Go to a computer store and buy a male kettle plug to female kettle plug cable. I think they are usually used for monitors. The people at the store should know what you are talking about. Mine cost R20, pretty inexpensive.

Step 2: Take some sort of appropriate cutting instrument (pliers are first prize) and cut off the female plug. Cut close to the plug so you keep as much cable as possible. Just in case you don't know, the female side has 3 holes, the male side has the 3 metal connectors that fit into the three holes. Strip the end of the white insulating stuff off, and strip the ends of the 3 coloured wired inside. Just FYI, the blue wire is neutral, brown is live and green/yellow is earth. I don't know why, it wound have made more sense to me to make earth brown, but anyway.

Step 3: Buy an 3-prong plug: the female side, where we will ultimately plug our kettle, harddrive, multi-plug, whatever. I know you can get them with just the plug, but I couldn't find one at checkers, so I had to buy and extension cable. R50 ouch a bit more than I had hoped to pay, but alright. Oh and buy some insulating tape too, its only about R5.

Step 4: If you bought an extension cable like me, cut off the male plug end and strip is, just like you did to the kettle cable in Step 2.

Step 5: Connect the two cables - blue to blue, brown to brown, yellow/green to yellow/green. I connected them by twisting the copper ends together then covering it solidly with insulating tape. Cover well because we don't want the current carrying insides touching each other! If you'd managed to buy just the plug section in Step 3 you could attach stripped wires from the kettle plug cable directly to the 3-prong plug with a screwdriver. That would have been a neater option and more satisfying all round. But hey, you make do with what you have.

And you are done! Plug the male kettle plug end into your UPS and plug whatever you want into the other 3-prong end. I attached a multi-plug to the 3-prong and then attached my two external hard-drives to 2-prong inputs on the multi-plug.

Finally, turn off the power. Hey presto, your UPS is still keeping your external hard-drives (or whatever) running. Hurrah!

Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God

Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God

John Donne


Batter my heart, three-personed God; for you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurped town, to another due,

Labor to admit you, but O, to no end;

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

but is captived, and proves weak or untrue.

yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,

But am betrothed unto your enemy.

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor even chaste, except you ravish me.

Bravo

The South African Minister of Defence, Mosiuoa Lekota, was arrested for speeding a couple of days ago. He was going at the whopping speed of about 180 km/hr. That doesn't happen by accident.

Oh woe is us, another tale of the sad state of South African leadership? Actually, I see something entirely different here, something very encouraging actually.

Speeding is bad, 180 km/hr is just entirely unacceptable. And by a Minister of our government, who should be setting an example, who should be beyond reproach, thats even worse. But I think the outcome of the whole incident is just a breath of fresh air.

He complied with the police when he was arrested, he went to court, admitted his guilt, and was sentenced. And it looks like he was really ashamed of himself, honestly remorseful. I suppose that could have just been the angle he was taking to get off lightly, but it seems legitimate from his comments.

Wow, what a breath of fresh air. No bravado, claims of innocence, egging on supporters, no shadiness, no arrogance or attitude of being above the law. What a pleasure. We can't just overlook his offense. But honesty, remorse, humility, these are qualities I can admire. And I think thats a hopeful thing to see in a South African leader.

On the other hand

While I was having dinner with some people yesterday I was digging around in my bag to look for something, when a friend noticed the book I'm reading - Fred Khumalo's "Touch my blood." I went to look for his latest novel at the library, but they didn't have it. The librarian so enthusiastically offered me his biography as compensation that I felt I had to enthusiastically receive it. I'm enjoying it, by the way, I recommend it. The only thing that I haven't enjoyed is the sexual details. Not great at all. It was the same with Ndumiso Ngcobo's book. Eish, the marmite chapter. Perhaps just skip that chapter, if you are considering reading the book.

Anyway, I digress badly. The point is, my friend saw the Khumalo book and immediately said she had read his "Yo Niggaz" column, someone had given her a printed copy. And she objected *most* strongly to his opinion on the whole ebonics issue. Its an identity thing... Why is it that people identify themselves with this use of language, she asks... these sorts of things need proper research, she says. And more, with bigger words. She is a English Masters student so I have to bow to her knowledge of such things.

So I suppose like so many like race, class, culture issues, there is more to it than the appearance of things.

Eish its bebbing

Reading Fred Khumalo's blog post Yo, niggaz, whaz happenin’ to da English? reminded me of an incident from when I was in the USA a month or so back. I was waiting at the bus stop on the University of Illinois campus one evening, on my way home. There was another guy waiting at the bus stop, a youngish black guy, probably a student. I was standing quite close to the bench he was sitting on and he greeted me. Or maybe I greeted him, I don't remember. I always feel its good to greet people.

Anyway, he then said something completely unintelligible to me, a couple of sentences. I tried to muddle them out in my mind but eventually gave up. "Pardon me?" Another, longer, string of phrases I couldn't make head or tail of. Asking people to repeat themselves too many times is embarrassing, but I really didn't understand anything he said. "Sorry I didn't understand you..." Another few mystifying sentences. I think I may have recognised the word "mother." Maybe, maybe, the word "red." But he was wearing a red track suit top, and I was pulling at straws, so maybe there was no red.

I smiled and gave up. There was clearly no hope.

I don't know. Part of me wants to sigh and say: "What is happening to young people nowadays?" Another part of me knows that that would probably be hypocritical. I'm really not averse to slang at all. I'm sure hanging out with my friends would be a mystifying experience for many other people. Bebbing and duuring and "Sisi, sisi I just want to tell you that you are very selfish," "We go" Indian slang from Minz, the classic Zimbabwean "item item" and so forth.

And I know that languages change all the time. In one epic argument with a flatmate of mine, I claimed that "conscientize" was not a word. I was quite wrong of course. It wasn't in the dictionary though. Who cares? Words are in the dictionary because people use them, people don't use them because they are in the dictionary. And who gets to choose the way language changes? Surely the people who use it?

But on the other hand, there is a place where we actually just need to ability to communicate with people, to express ourselves in a way other people understand and to express ourselves in a polite, respectful and professional way. "Yo 'sup dawg?" may be perfectly fine when addressing your mate, but not so much when you're addressing your mother. Or your boss. Or the lady behind the till at the post office.

Someone commented on Fred Khumalo's blog that this kind of poor English is a sad symptom of kids not reading. Its a revealing comment, I think, because it points to the fact that more often than not poor English isn't just the choice to buy into popular slang. Its a result of people just not being exposed to English spoken well. And even as I write that part of me thinks "Well isn't that unfair? Who is to say that the way I was brought up speaking English is good English?"

But objectively I think that a wide range of vocab and the ability to express yourself in language appropriate to many different social situations is important. Its a skill, like any other, that can be developed. And I'm very grateful that I grew up being sent to the dictionary to look up words for myself, and even for those awful Standard 5 vocab lists we had to learn.

It was there I learned that plump was really just a synonym for fat. I called my mom on that one - I was quite a *ahem* plump kid, and she always used to say I wasn't fat, I was plump. Yup, my 12 year old self empowered by vocabulary.

Vote Yes

Last week I was sitting in front of the TV, waiting to hear the result of the Polokwane vote: Zuma or Mbeki, the big question. Sitting there I was taken back to 1992, my eleven year old self anxiously sitting on the same mat in front of an older TV waiting for the results of the Vote Yes/Vote No referendum.

A quick history lesson to give some background for my reminiscing:
In about 1990 the then National Party led South African government was beginning to move away from apartheid. Political parties such as the ANC were unbanned, Nelson Mandela was released from prison and the government was in negotiations with the ANC. There was resistance to the reforms, so the then president F.W. de Klerk called for a referendum (for white South Africans) to show how much of the (white) population supported the reforms. The referendum was Vote Yes/Vote No for continuing the reforms. There were posters all over the street lights, I remember: "Vote yes!" "Vote no!"
More info from our friend wikipedia

I was just a kid, I didn't know anything about politics, anything about apartheid (beyond the fact that our maid's children weren't allowed to be in the same school as me). I don't remember my parents ever saying anything much about politics or race, so the issues of South Africa just had no place in my little eleven year old mind. There were terrorist drills at school: push the desks to the side of the room and hide under them. So the terrorists couldn't shoot us, I suppose. But I didn't link that to the political environment in South Africa, the fear of the white populace as things were changing. I couldn't. As I said, I was just a kid. More concerned with friends from school and my inability to pass times table tests (yes, its true).

Now my parents were also pretty liberal, so I didn't grow up with a lot of the racism that I expect many other South African kids did. So when one of the kids at school told me that if the result of the upcoming election was "no," the "black people were going to come kill us all," this was news to me. I was horrified. So I sat in front of that TV and watched the votes come in, distraught. In the wake of this revelation of my potential impending doom I had discussed the situation with some friends from school. It seems everyone else's family had planned for the worst - they spoke of plans to leave for various European countries, mostly. I have no recent foreign ancestry, so my eleven year old imagination envisioned my family being left to be slaughtered, while watching my friends fly off to European safety.

The results were coming in slowly, as they were counted in different areas. Eventually the stress of it all overcame me and I told my mother that if things turned out badly, so and so's family was going to Italy, so and so's family was leaving for Austria and so forth... but what about us mom, what will we do? Where will we go?

I was pretty upset and scared by that stage, but I've always remembered her answer and how it settled the issue for me. She said that South Africa is our home, and we were not going anywhere.

Which may sound like an entirely unsatisfactory answer. It didn't address the "kill us all" problem at all. But it somehow satisfied my eleven year old self. Perhaps it was my mothers confidence - if we were going to stay, it would have to be okay, somehow. There is no place to run to, because this is the only place that is ours, so it has to be okay.

South Africa is our home, and we were not going anywhere.

---

I started writing this blog post during the wait for the Polokwane results - now of course we know that Zuma is the new ANC president. There is alot of fear in South Africa about this at the moment. Probably alot of people considering their options: Italy, Austria, Australia, Canada...
And I confess that as I heard the results, for an instant I wished (for the first time) that I was eligible for an ancestral UK visa. But you know what, South Africa is my home, and I'm not going anywhere.

South Africa is doing better now than we have ever done. We are in our thirteenth year of being a democracy, only twenty or so years ago we were oppressing, brutalising, pretty much enslaving millions of people. Today I can watch bollywood movies with a friend who I would not have shared eating utensils with twenty or thirty years ago. We are living one of the great miracles of our time.

We're not perfect, by no means, we're broken nation. But we're being fixed. And we're going to have some ups and downs, no doubt. But, by the grace of God, lets stick around and do this thing.

What its all about

A conversation yesterday got me thinging about the things we want to achieve in life, the acclaim we wish for, and what its all about.

I went to the talk by the guy who draws xkcd the other day, and it was pretty funny. Lots and lots of geeky jokes. And he is *famous* - people queue up to have their photo taken with him. Maybe it would be good to be famous, maybe it would be satisfying to have people hang on my words, put up posters about me, be in awe of me. That would proably be real good (note my American slang!) for my ego. I wonder if I'd be content with that? Maybe. But really, this xkcd guy, he's just a random guy. He's quite smart and pretty funny and into geeky things which is cool. And he draws a comic thats sometimes very funny... so there is nothing in particular that I'd like to emulate in him personaly. Its just that feeling of a thousand, probably many thousands, or people, approving of you. Admiring you.

But then I got to thinking, why do I want people to admire me, and approve of me? Surely if I'm happy with myself, a thousand praises would be nice and all, but I wouldn't need them to prop me up? And how will I be happy with myself? Because I know that I myself am a delightful creation of the Lord, who sees me as I am and accepts me afffectionately, and also because by the grace of God I live a life that is pleasing to him, or at least increasingly pleasing to him, I hope!!

Then I was thinking about accomplishment. I am hereby old, and it feels like I've achieved nothing with my life. Well maybe this is a bit easier to define for me... what would I like to have done? I don't know... help stop AIDS, changed peoples lives, made some amazing physics discoveries that change the way we see the world, advanced technology, helped eradicate poverty, fix the education system in SA, fix Home Affaris in SA, do something about the transport situation in SA, write some children's books about recentish South African history, commission a cartoon series about recentish South African history, do something significant to stop crime, have a degree from MIT, Caltech :)
I'm not sure, it could be lots of things. And I wonder if it would be satisfying to know that the world was a hugely better place because of me. I'm sure it would. But the thing with that though, is that its a bit addictive. Doing good things for people, doing great impressive things, thats fantastic. Aim for the stars blah blah and all of that. Definately. Lets do it, lets change the world. But if we rely on that to feel ok about ourselves, it becomes a bit empty and desperate eventually. There is always more you can do, there is always alot that you can't do. We're little people and when we realise that, its pretty freeing.

Anyway, Nicole puts it beautifully:

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
You could take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all who's who and so-n-so's that used to be the best
At such'n'such ... it wouldn't matter much

I won't lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
We all need an 'Atta boy' or 'Atta girl'
But in the end I'd like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who
blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I don't have to look too far or too long awhile
To make a lengthly list of all that I enjoy
It's an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
Where moth and rust, thieves and such will soon enough destroy

Not well traveled, not well read, not well-to-do or well bred
Just want to hear instead, "Well Done" good and faithful one...

Legacy, from Woven and Spun by Nicole Nordeman

Luthuli on Zimbabwe

No, not really. This is Albert Luthuli writing to encourage the "economic ostracism" of South Africa during apartheid. But his words reminded me of the quiet diplomacy that seems to be going on about Zimbabwe. Chief Albert Luthuli was ANC president from 1952 to 1967.

They seem to rely on a quiet word in a diplomat's ear. This is ineffective...

The present situation, if I may put it in a parable, seems to me something like this. My next door neighbour and I may like each other or we may not. At all events, we shall, if we are normal people, pay attention to the social conventions. We shall mind our own business unless invited to do otherwise. We shall not interfere with each other's wives or children or property. We shall avoid abusive language and greet each other when we meet.

But a day might conceivably come when this relationship breaks down. I might happen to glance across to his lands and see him savagely whipping a member of his household or attacking a defenseless child with a lethal weapon. I might learn that he has done his brother to death.

I could shrug and go on my way. I could say, “Well, after all, he's the head of that household, its no business of mine. I don't want him interfering here, so I'd better keep myself to myself.” Or I suppose I could go round to the door and leave a little note suggesting that it might be wise if he were to make a few changes in his behaviour, and then leave him to think it over.

I doubt if I would be morally justified in taking any course except doing my utmost to to prevent him doing further damage. My aim would not be to kill him or injure him. It would be to stop him. I should find myself impelled to do that, by lawful and recognised means, and preferably by means which do no personal hurt.

Let My People Go, Albert Luthuli

Youth Day

Today is Youth Day, a day public holiday. Today we remember the Soweto uprisings on June 16, 1976.

Back then, South Africa had what was called Bantu education, where education for black kids was supposed to address the "nature and requirements of the black people." To teach them to be servants and workers. To quote Dr Verwoerd, "Natives (blacks) must be taught from an early age that equality with Europeans (whites) is not for them."

In 1976 it was decided that parts of the schooling would be done in Afrikaans, with the scholars, and teachers, having no choice in the matter. The then Deputy Minister of Bantu Education, Punt Janson, said: "No, I have not consulted the African people on the language issue and I'm not going to. An African might find that 'the big boss' only spoke Afrikaans or only spoke English. It would be to his advantage to know both languages."

On June 16th, the scholars organised a march to protest the change to Afrikaans. A peaceful march, where between 10000 and 20000 scholars attended.

But on the day, the kids found themselves surrounded by police, who ended up firing into the crowd, and it all became choas. The official death toll was 23. These were just kids, just marching.

The June 16 Soweto uprising then catalysed major upheaval throughout our nation.

For more info, check out SA history online, and the June 16 photo gallery.

Freedom Day

Happy Freedom Day everyone!

Today, 13 years ago, South Africa held its first free and fair, democratic elections. 27 April 1994. Unfortunately, I was only 14 - too young to vote. Our nearest polling station was just a block or two away from my house, and the queue from the polling station reached about half way to our house. I don't think I really understood the importance of the occassion at the time, maybe to an extent, but not fully. But I remember how excited everyone was. I remember my mom sending me home to get biscuits for the people in the queue around us, as we waited for hours in the sun.

Today is Freedom Day, in celebration of that day. When we hear "freedom day," maybe we interpret it to mean that on that day the 80% or so of our population who were opressed gained their freedom, in the form of the right to vote. Which is true and very worth celebrating. But in actual fact, we all received our freedom that day. Because if that day hadn't come, I would not be free to be friends with the people I am friends with now, to go the places I go, to live the life I live. I would be privileged, but not free. So today we celebrate freedom for all of us, symbolised by the vote of April 27, 1995.

In the words of Melissa Steyn, "South Africa has never been more normal than it is now."

Waving goodbye to 2006

So 2006 is coming to a swift end. To close the year, our picture is of Kez and Muts on holiday at Titsikama earlier in the year, the cool chicks.

I apologise for the lack of posts recently. I know I didn't finish off my last post about "What is a maser?" I was holding back on posting anything else until I had finished that, but I think I will just have to finish it later. Watch this place.

I'm working on my new years resolutions. I never really make new years resolutions, because I never keep them, so why bother...? But I like to have some sort of general approach to the year to come.

Some general thoughts I have on going into the new year are...
* Being chilled out, no pressure.
* Focus on work, enjoying work and giving more time to work.
* Being more adventurous with my friends. I dearly love the friends I have, but I spend one heck of alot of time with the same people. So I think I need to start being a bit braver and hanging out with some different people.
* Worshipping God and loving people.

What is a maser?

What is a maser?
The word maser is an acronym for Microwave Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation.
The word laser stands for Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation - its the same process, but lasers work with visible light, whereas masers work with microwave frequency radiation.

Okay, so a maser is an invisible laser, working as microwave frequencies (frequencies quite a bit lower than those of visible light). Whats with the "Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation" bit?

Well, lets start off by looking at what stimulated emission is. Say you have an atom or molecule - it has lots of energy levels (remember drawing electrons in the different energy levels of an atom at school?). Usually the lowest energy levels are all full, and the upper levels are maybe a bit full, but not much.

So we start off in a low energy state... Then a photon of light comes along - a photon of just the right frequency for the molecule - and the molecule absorbs the photon. Now it has more energy, and the higher energy level is more full. This is called absorbtion. Thats the first was atoms or molecules (particles, for the sake of brevity!) can interact with radiation, or light. The picture below illustrates two energy levels of a particle. The wave is a photon, that gets absorbed by the particle, moving it to a higher energy state.



The second way particles interact with radiation is called spontaneous emission. When our particle has absorbed a photon it is in a higher energy state, but its not really stable. It wants things to be back to normal, comfortable with all the lowest energy levels full. So the particle spontaneously emits a photon of the same special frequency for the atom, and drops back to a lower energy.

This is actually how scientists can tell what the sun and stars and the Milky Way are made of. We look out into the sky and capture the radiation from a particular object. Then we look for special frequencies that ony come from certain particles - we call emission or absorbtion of these special frequencies spectral lines. If we see those special frequencies, we know we are seeing that element or molecule. For example, I look at silicon monoxide, SiO, which is at a frequency of 43122.03 MHz. When we see emission at that frequency, we know it is SiO.

But I've got side-tracked from the main question - what is a maser? Tune in to the next post for the answer!

Too good

This book is great, I cant help myself, here is another quote:

... But the trouble with deep belief is that it costs something. And there is something deep inside of me, some selfish beast of a subtle thing that doesn't like the truth because it carries responsability, and if I actually believe these things I have to do something about them. It is so, so cumbersome to believe anything. And it isn't cool. I mean its cool in a Reality Bites, Welcome to Sarajevo, Amnesty International sense, but that is only as good as dreadlocks. Chicks dig it to a point, but you can't be all about it; you also have to want a big house and expensive clothes because in the end, our beliefs are about as enduring as seasonal fashion.

Its from a chapter entitled "Belief." He speaks about his friend "Andrew the Protester," who is a Christian, and politics wise, a liberal. Andrew goes to protests, he's an anti-Bush, anti-IMF kinda guy. And on Saturday mornings he feeds the homeless, hangs out with his homeless friends. The author, Donald, says of Andrew: "My Republican friends get frustrated when I paint Andrew as a hero, but I like Andrew because he actually believes things that cost him something. Even if I disagree with Andrew, I love that he is willing to sacrifice for what he believes."

Andrew is the one who taught me that what I believe is not what I say I believe; what I believe is what I do.

Blue Like Jazz

A quote from the book Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller:

"My most recent faith struggle is not one of intellect. I don't really do that anymore. Sooner or later you just figure out there are some guys who don't believe in God and they can prove He doesn't exist, and some other guys who do believe in God and can prove He does exist, and the argument stopped being about God a long time ago and now its about who is smarter, and honestly I don't care. I don't believe I will ever walk away from God for intellectual reasons. Who knows anything anyway? If I walk away from Him, and please pray that I never do, I will walk away for social reasons, identity reasons, deep emotional reasons, the same reasons that any of us do anything."

... not to say we shouldn't exercise out minds in our faith, but I think that this quote has alot of truth in it. It kindof reminds me of Psalm 131:
"Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty: neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for me..." (KJV) - I would have preferred to quote it from the NIV, but my Bible is at home unfortunately!

Its a great book, I recommend it. Very hounest, open, authentic. And because of his authenticity, I think, he leads you along with him into lots of amazing truths about God and Christianity. Rather than just informing you of them, or teaching you about them. Its a bit like what Gareth ways saying in "Apologetic of the heart" - you feel like you are a pilgrim on a journey with him.

The authors note in the beginning says "Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way." Beautiful.

Wonderful

from here.

Water followup

Just a followup on the Grahamstown water situation. To quote from the email with water test results:

In summary, the tap water on campus was safe (if unpleasant) to drink.

The tests the Biochemistry & Microbiology Department did on the water all came back as safe for humans, but not safe for trout. Trout are apparantly alot more sensitive to changes in the water and ickiness in the water. Not suprising, I guess, considering they live and breathe in the water, and they are alot littler than us!

Anyway, in all the water upheavel my geyser has stopped working. And my landlady is away, so I will just wait till she returns to sort it out. Life without hot water, arg.

On a triumphant note:
I have now parallel parked twice with Chloe! *woot*
And my external hard drive is back so I can back up my work. *woot*
And life is good :)

Public Service Announcement

THIS IS AN URGENT MESSAGE
TO ALL STAFF AND STUDENTS

Please be aware that serious concerns have been voiced over
the toxicity levels of the municipal water supply. According to
Martin Davies of the Department of Ichthyology and Fisheries
Science, over 35 000 fish at the University's Experimental Fish
Farm have died over the last few days as a result. He says that
trout fingerlings are seen as an accepted early warning system of
polluted water. The deaths of these fish together with behavioural
abnormalities which has been observed are indicative of the
presence of heavy metal pollutants in the water.

The particles are extremely toxic to human beings and cannot be
removed through cooking or boiling water. Samples of water are
currently being tested in the University's Biotechnology
Department but results of these tests will only be available by
tomorrow.

In the meantime you are requested NOT to drink water from any
taps on campus (or at home) and not to cook with this water if
your home or residence was affected by the recent water outage.

The University is making plans to bring further supplies of bottled
drinking water to Grahamstown for distribution to residences.

Please also note that all food served in the residences has been
prepared with 'safe water'. The University has been forced to
adjust menus and serving timetables as a result of the current
problems and regrets any inconvenience.

Those affected as asked to be patient as we attempt to manage
the situation.

Director: Communications & Development Division
Rhodes University

Math tutoring

A tutor is not a teacher in the usual sense: it is not his job to convey information. The student should find for himself the information. The teacher [sic] acts as a constructive critic, helping him to sort it out, to try it out simetimes, in the sense of exploring a possible avenue, rejecting one approach in favour of another. Moore, 1968, pg 18

I've been tutoring math to these kids from Nombuleo for a few weeks, and its been on my mind for the last few days. I read this quote in a paper, and it echo's my thoughts (in part). I have been using the phrase tutoring, rather than teaching, deliberately for some time. I 've put a fair amount of thought into how to approach teaching/tutoring these kids, and these are some of the thoughts/principles I have come up with:

• "First, do no harm" (Innoxa) - At the very least, let me not confuse them, not undermine their confidence, not undermine what they already know, and not undermine their teachers!
• The Baard method - In University Physics tuts, we are encouraged to use the Baard method - named after one of our previous HODs. You get small groups to work togther at different sections of the board, and you walk between them, helping as necessary. I try and use a similar method for tutoring high-school math, where possible. We usually sit around the board and the kids take turns doing problems on the board for us, but the whole group helps and advises, and does calculations on their calculator for the person at the boad when necessary. I was actually quite suprised this method worked - its usually remarkably difficult to get university students up to the board to answer questions for the class, or even in groups! Sometimes it gets a bit difficult when there are quite a few kids - 4 is a comfortable maximum to use this method. Thankfully Brent has been helping me out, so we can sometimes break into two groups.
  
• Tutoring, not teaching - These are kids writing matric math in a few weeks now. Frankly, there is not really time to teach them anything new. And perhaps more importantly, they already go to school, sit in math classes, have a math teacher and learn math. My goal isn't to teach them new things, my goal is to help them apply (unpack!) what they already know, and to help them grow in confidence. The goal is that they can actually *do* math problems. On occasion I have to teach them things (you need to know the special triangles, for example), but that is not the primary goal of my meeting with them. Its much easier to stand at the board and explain the answer to a question to them, much much easier than getting them to figure it out for themselves! But at the end of the day the goal is them being able to do things themselves, not me feeling good about my explanation. Which is part of my motivation for making them do things on the board themselves.
  
• They lack confidence - For the most part, they lack confidence to a detrimental degree. Part of the motivation for tutoring, rather than teaching, is to show them that they actualy know quite alot. And they are more capable than they thought. There is little as empowering as realising you actually *can* do something you initially thought was impossibly difficult. And with a bit of prodding in the right direction, they often can do math questions they really thought they couldn't.
  
• They are generally mentally lazy - So am I. Most of us are. Especially in areas we we lack confidence... there is just no motivation to mentally apply yourself to something you think you have no hope of figuring out! So I have to provoke them to think, allow them to get things wrong and have their class-mates correct them, just wait while they stubbornly refuse to ask questions, try and think of leading questions that will give them just enough of a clue to get started, and then they are engaged and its much easier.
• Helping each other - I try to leave them to correct, encourage and help each other as much as possible. In fact I keep my involvement as minimal as possible. Their first language is Xhosa, so ideally I would like to speak to them in Xhosa, but alas I cannot. So when they all discuss a problem together in Xhosa, thats great. Also, they are all learning the same way, and they have roughly the same information/way of understanding in their heads. I did matric maths yonks ago, so in many respects they are more qualified to help each other than I am to help them. And referring back to the first point - at the very least, I don't want to confuse them. Rather let them explain to each other in a way they are all familiar with, than me giving an explanation that works for me, but that is unfamiliar and intimidating to them. Also, it pulls them all in to engage with the questions. When someone gets things wrong on the board, I often leave it for a while to give someone else in the group a chance to see the error and correct it - which often happens. Sometimes I do step in and correct something, especially if it is a fundamental error/misunderstanding, but I try to keep this to a minimum.

One of the reasons I have thought this through alot is that I heard that you have to be quite careful when to teach kids from non-former-model-C schools (jeepers, what a mouthful). Also just because I'd like to actually be making a difference to these kids, not just wasting 3 hours of their and my lives every Saturday!
If you have any advice or thoughts on the matter, I would love to hear them!

Mutsa's party

It was Mutsa's party on Friday evening - it was her birthday on Friday. Minz cooked about a billion kilograms of curry, and we spent Wednesday and Thursday evenings rolling roti. Altogether we made about 150 rotis for the party, and Claire and Sizwe and Verashni made a some batches too.

It rocked... says Minoshni :) And it did!

"Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten." Lilo & Stitch

A lesson

When I was in about standard 6 or 7, I heard that when my friends did well in class their parents paid them. I was in the 'A' stream class so most of my friends did well academically, and I had been doing pretty well too at the time. So I figured I should be rewarded with money too! After all, most of my friends were...

So one day I went and told my dad that I reckoned I should be financially rewarded for good work. So my dad thought about it and gave me what, in retrospect, was a wonderful answer.

He thought about it and answered: "Well, I tell you what, if you come first in class I'll give you R xxx, if you come second in class I'll give you R yyy, if you come third in class I'll give you R zzz. But if you come fourth in class, YOU have to give ME R zzz, if you come fifth in class you have to give me R yyy and if you come lower than fifth you have to give me R xxx."
heh.
So I thought "!!!!!!"
And responded "no thanks, I don't like that arrangement" and my desire for (and expectation of!) reward was thoroughly gone :)

It was the best lesson because in a few words he managed to express how silly it is to place too much importance on academic achievement. And how silly it is to expect rewards for everything!

Kepler, Kepler

I'm in the lab for no good reason at 10:30, arg. I am waiting for Kepler (my physics pc) to finish running something so I can start something else. I am very attached to Kepler, but he is getting a bit old and sluggish, prone to erratic break downs. On Sunday all of his usb ports died, for no good reason. So I'm trying to back things up, but it looks like my external hard-drive might be poked. Fun and games :)

So what shall I do with my time Lord? Just waiting here.

I've been browsing through some blogs (Verashni, Natalie, Binks, Vicky, Biance, Ralph, James, Neels, Rebecca, Lindsey, Nathan etc etc.) I must make myself a little Blog Boxi al la Twitch. Something I really enjoy about reading all of your blogs is that you realise that people are even cooler than you think, and more hectic than you think, more creative than you think... you guys are so great :)

And just a final thought, before I try make good use of my waiting time:
Hear ye, hear ye: It is John (Richter)'s birthday on Monday, and Mutsa's birthday next Friday.

Busi's party #2

This is a continuation to the "Busi's party" post, because I really can't do her party justice with just one picture. Above is my friend Emma, and her foster/adopted child (I'm not sure which), busi. Emma was in Dingemans with me way back, before Spar was Pick 'n Pay, and The Blue Room was The Red Cafe. It was Busi's birthday party. She had a jumping castle, which was awesome. The top picture is of Busi and some of her friends on the jumping castle. The little girl in yellow is Emma's other child, Thandi. Thandi is very sweet, she has a lovely happy disposition.

Busi likes tomato and chicken and mashed potato and pretty much nothing else. She does not like sweets, bizarrely enough. She loves barbies, and has about three thousdand million of them, as well as a Barbie car and a Barbie house. She feels that it is inappropriate to cut hear Barbie's hair, even though some of her friends cut their Barbies hair. And it was her birthday party.

Emma says that "fancy shaped party cake" is one of the skills you have to master as a mother :)

Mother abuse

Oh dear, I have not posted in a *long* time!

Yesterday I was tutoring math to some kids (well, matric scholars I suppose!) from Nombulelo. Nombulelo is a school in Grahamstown. Anyway, there were six of them, two guys and four girls. Towards the end of the session we were discussing when to schedule our next meeting and I suggested next Saturday morning. One of the guys commented that Saturday afternoon was better for him, because he does chores on Saturday morning, like washing clothes. So one of the girls advised him that his family should be washing his clothes to help him out, because he is writing matric exams. He was agast: "That would be mother abuse!" "Yes," chimed in the other guy "we couldn't do that, thats mother abuse!"

My mother was washing my clothes well into my degree... even when I lived in another town and had access to a washing machine in my res!!! How embarassing - they put me to shame! :)

PhD comics

I love PhD comics. The strip above is so like me its embassing.

Busi's party

Back in Grahamstown

So I am back in Grahamstown from my stint in Cape Town.

In my absence, my Church had a prayer vigil, Christians@Rhodes had a mission, my brother went on camp, my flat got broken into, my car battery died and my former digsmates went to the Greek ball (as you can see in the pic above!)

Thankfully, it seems nothing was actually taken from my flat - the burglers were probably disturbed by the armed response people. Hooray.

Being in CT was fun, but its good to be back and get into the swing of things again!