A history of our own

Last night I was invited to attend the screening of a whole bunch of old 8mm home movies shot by my grandfather and grandmother of their family at various stages of their lives. It was an amazing opportunity to see what my father and his family were like, growing up, as teens, getting married etc. And it was AWESOME! And freaky at the same time...

It's hard to imagine that the people you've only ever known of as adults were once children and teens. I'd seen photos of them, but it's somehow difficult to imagine those still images of someone that you don't recognise as being of real people or even as the 'little' versions of the people you know now. One of the things that really struck me was seeing my father as a child, playing around on a beach. He looked just like in the photos, but he was alive, running around and obviously having a good time. And that kid, was my dad!

I realise how silly it sounds, but it's a difficult experience to put into words.

The other amazing thing was seeing how people's behaviour doesn't change over time! So many of the mannerisms of my fathers family in the films, as little kids, persist to this day! Small things like their posture or how they held their arms are identical and unchanged!

The other thing that I found very interesting was seeing how much my cousin looked like his father when they were both young! He and I were the only ones that agreed on this, but just because nobody else thinks so, doesn't make it not true!

Oh, and a lesson to all would-be home movie makers: When on holiday, don't bother filming the surroundings. In 50 years, nobody will care! Film the people! That's what we all want to see!

Some pictures from the night:

The 'cinema' complete with rows of seats and a screen! I'm not sure why my cousin looks so unimpressed...

Deciphering 50+ year old labels with obscure titles like 'Number 2'

A shot from the footage of my parent's wedding. Unfotunately phone camera's don't cope well with capturing the flickering images off 8mm film. You can just make out the shapes of some people in this one

Repairing the projector. This happened several times throughout the evening. Amazingly enough, none of the film burned out! I was under the impression that the 'burnout' was a common feature of screening such as this, and yet, not so much as a puff of smoke all evening! Our projectionist must have been a reel pro...(pun intended  )

I'll miss you SO much!

Given that I will be leaving my alma mater, Wits, in the not-too-distant future, I have been thinking a lot about how much it has meant to me to be part of it. The other day, while on the hunt for food, I was reminded of one of the more fun aspects of Wits' charm: The quirky promotions that seem to happen on campus on a regular basis. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to snap a few on my phone, before the promo broke up!

Where else in the world am I  likely to encounter giant walking fruit on my lunch break?!

I'm not entirely sure why the giant fruit were hiding under black sheets, especially seeing as it is the middle of summer in Johannesburg (usually around 30 degrees centigrade in the shade at this time of day...). The one on the left is a giant lichi, in case you're wondering...

Behold, the giant granadilla! You can also make out the giant mango behind him and what appears to be an orange too...what the other one is...I have no idea.

Even giant fruit get tired! Here they are, parking off on the grass for a well-deserved break.

This, amongst other things, I will really miss when I'm gone.

What's in a name...?

I don't understand it really. But it's just the way I am. I do all my best thinking either in the shower, or when brushing my teeth. When I say 'best thinking' I don't mean that I come up with solutions to food security or world peace, but rather that this is when my brain tends to really get it's hands dirty, regardless of the idea in question.

Last night, standing in front of my bathroom mirror still dripping and wrapped in a towel after a shower, the topic of choice was names. I began to think about all the people that I'd met in my life and how so many of them seemed to display traits that were common to all the other people I'd met with the same names. Take, for example, Tyron (or any variant thereof, such as Tyrone...).

To this day, I have never met a single individual by that name that was even vaguely pleasant. Parents, if you have a boy and you don't particularly want to spend a good part of your sons life in the principles office at school being read the riot act and waxing his growing list of misdemeanours, don't name your child Tyron! It's strange, but true. My mother was a nursery school teacher and my aunt, a primary school teacher, for many years and both confirmed for me that there is indeed a hex on that name; all who bear it are nothing but trouble.

This is not to say that I believe that Tyrons the world over are evil. Far from it! I just have yet to meet one that wasn't.

This all got me thinking about how no matter what the name in question is, it is forever associated with that first person that we met who had it. Another example: I remember in primary school (elementary school for our American readers) having a girl in my class by the name of Angelique. While a tad on the naughty side, what really set her apart from the rest of us was that she had been born with a physical impairment. Her left leg had not fully developed and thus was permanently about 15cm shorter than her right leg. She wore a prosthetic leg extension all the time except for when we had to do PE (physical education - an excuse for teachers to park off and bark orders at children already burnt out from a hard day's work in the classroom).

The truly amazing thing about this girl was not her leg, but rather her approach to life. Angelique was, in spite of all that her biology had thrown at her, unstoppable! I remember that she was always very friendly, but took no nonsense from anyone. She always stood up for the underdog (with the added advantage that few people would argue with a metal reinforced plasticised leg extension...) and even when doing PE, she strove as hard as, if not harder than, all the other kids to do well. As such, this name has a number of connotations for me: scallywag, virtuous and unbeatable.

Another example from primary school was a girl by the name of Catherine. Actually, more than one by that name. And, true to form, both Catherines had equally unpleasant personalities. The first left our school shortly after entering the second grade, much to our unanimous relief. This child, in hindsight probably a deeply troubled individual, would frequently erupt into fully fledged temper tantrums in the classroom. I remember one in particular when she trashed the reading corner, tossing books willy-nilly and overturning the bookshelf, a feat I at the time marvelled at, unable to budge the bookshelf under my own strength. Obviously, rage provided a fuel unmatched by any amount of sugar and tartrezine.

The second Catherine was with us for longer than the first. But, while physical violence wasn't her thing, her skill lay in her unmatched ability to be very unpleasant. She was one of those kids that just never had anything nice to say about or to anyone. Somehow she had friends, but I certainly didn't count myself in their number. In both cases, I learned very quickly that the one thing common to the name was the tactic you used when dealing with them: don't! Just avoid them completely!

So prospective parents, think long and hard about the names that haunt and colour your past. Consult with others about the names that shaped them and give much consideration to the idea, before frivolously applying a label to your offspring!

Calling all the Faithful

I am certain that a vast number of my readers will be almost entirely unable to connect with this post. It's one of the hazards of being one of those odd people that actually like listening to electronic music outside of Holland (sue me! I'm hooked!). However, I'm using this blog to chronicle my life and it's highs (and lows) so this is definitely material that deserves to go on here.

Saturday was the day I've been waiting for for months now. I first heard about their visit to Johannesburg through a friend on Facebook who somehow had come across this information prematurely and, knowing that I was a fan, decided to share it with me. Indeed, with a little internet effort, I confirmed; Faithless were coming to South Africa!

I remember the last time they were here. I think I was 17 at the time. It was my first big live performance event. I remember being so excited and nervous at not knowing what to expect. I remember that my cousin and her then boyfriend drove us there and acted as general chaperons for the evening while I, and my two mates chattered away excitedly, awestruck by the whole experience. I remember the opening act was a horrific South African group called 'TK-Zee' who would do best to be forgotten entirely. The crowd came very close to booing them off stage, but luckily for the performers, their performance 'playlist' waned before the crowd got upset enough. Then they came on...

This time round we were due to be entertained by the Cape Town based dance duo 'Goldfish' as the entrée before THE band blew our minds with their performance. However, the gods of music got together with the gods of lets-think-of-something-that'll-just-irritate-the-crap-outa-them and through poor organisation on the part of the hosts, nobody other than the Golden Circle ticket holders actually got to see Goldfish (i.e. we plebs were forced to miss them because the organisers failed to let normal ticket holders into the venue before Goldfish were finished; a gripe for another day).

However, once inside, everything would change! Once Faithless came on stage, things elevated to a level of experience yet unmatched. I cannot put into words what an amazing experience it was, but I'll try.

The concert started with a little known track, followed by one of their latest releases, 'Sun to Me' which was amazing. People were dancing, vigorously abandoning themselves to the music, worshipping the sound that buffeted their senses. I, somewhat reserved, danced along, relishing the moment. However, for me, things only got started with the next song.

As they began the intro to the song, I recognised it immediately. I watched as the music built up, a crescendo heralding the start of something awe-inspiring and bordering on spiritual. As the chorus broke, the crowd went berserk. What had been a black maw behind the stage emerged as a massive screen, a golden light drawing out the outline of a church behind the musicians as they desperately performed their hearts out for us. The song could not have been more apt: 'God is a DJ'

The evening progressed with inspiring performance after performance. Each time the screen behind displaying a colourful assortment of images, visualizations and patterns that accentuated the beauty of the music tearing through us. All around people were jumping, throwing themselves, fighting gravity and all their inhibitions. Involuntarily, I found myself doing the same, literally out of control, caught in an elated fit of sheer movement. We were all one writhing, joyous entity.

The evening ran away from us. Two hours turned into ten minutes. Before we knew we'd arrived, it was over. The lights dimmed, the band left the stage, and a truly unsatisfied audience. The crowd began to chant. Their appetite wasn't satiated. They wanted more. And once again, Faithless failed to disappoint.

The band reemerged, stepping out of the darkness to hit us one last time. Issuing instructions to the crowd, MaxiJazz began one of the most awesome musical experiences of my life. The final song that we would be privileged with would be one of their most profound: 'We Come One'. Reinvigorated, we began to move again, a giant rising. The tide grew, pulling any reluctant dancers under it's powerful tow. As the chorus hit, our tumultuous action reached it's peak. I was merely an element of a whole. Part of something bigger. An entity that reserved judgement, asked for nothing and offered elation in return. We truly had come one.

I will always remember that evening. Nothing parallels that feeling of amazing unity, bliss and excitement all in one. I suffered for it (head-banging isn't too great for your neck...). In fact, I continue to pay. I've been trying to work all day but I can think of nothing else! But it was well worth the price pay!

Life-long To-do list Item 32: Check!

Before I begin, I must point out that I don't really have a Life-long To-do list. Not in the formal sense, anyway. I rather have a kinda space in my brain that holds all the stuff that looks cool to do and I'll get to later...

Avid followers of my blog will remember me once writing a post about my lifelong quest to partake of all the exotic fruit wonders that our world has to offer. Well, I am now one step closer to that goal! I have finally sampled the amazing flappy-purple-orb that is DRAGONFRUIT!

This is all thanks to my mother, who somehow managed to track down one at our local supermarket (not usually the place for edible rareties of nature...).

Behold! The amazing dragonfruit!

As you can see, my sister takes these things very seriously. Her carpophobia really got away with her... 

The innards of a dragonfruit: 

Giving the fruit a try: 

Look at the amazing colour!! Visually, a stunning piece of food: 

It's a very odd fruit. It doesn't really have much flavour. It's very delicate. It has a consistancy that lies somewhere between a persimon and a kiwi fruit. Very odd. The seeds are like those of a kiwi too. But the colour is amazing! It's really beautiful! It also stains your hands like beetroot does, which was kinda cool. I would totally recommend it for anyone to try!

Movies that changed the way I watch movies...and other stuff...

The idea for this post came to me after a rather unproductive day, watching a film off YouTube in little bits. It was the movie 'Airborne', a 1993 teen comedy (sorta). There I was, nostalgically remeniscing about the hours as a child spent watching the movie and wishing that I too could surf and have an earing and hair to make a wooly mammoth jealous. I then went off to take a bathroom break, and it occurred to me while washing my hands (hygene first!); What other movies have had this kind of impact on my life?

Thus I present a list of some of the movies that changed how I view the world (or at least movies, anyway...):

I remember watching this as a kid and being completely ignorant (and blissfully so) of the fact that the shark itself was clearly made of rubber-latex. Even today, this film still gets me. It is dated, promotes a message with disasterous ecological consequences and discourages recreational swimming, but has you on the edge of your seat to the very end! Well worth the watch. I actually liked the film so much I bought the book (not bad, actually!) from a second-hand book store! The film offers everything a growing boy needs: hot beach-goers, a menacing animal that cannot be stopped, loads of blood and a little something (read: fear) that lingers with you once the film has ended.

Another oceanic story, but this time, of a much gentler kind. This film blew me away with its honest storytelling and characters that everyone could relate to. The tragedy of the story, the bleak beauty of the setting and the hauntingly memorable soundtrack left me yearning to make a movie like this one.

Steve did it again! Okay, on this one, I am completely biased, having been an avid dinosaur fan from age 3. However, even for those entirely clueless about dinosaurs, the suspense of this film is enthralling. To this day, I still feel my body ready itself for that innate flight response when Lex's leg is narrowly missed by a ravenous Velociraptor as she scrambles through the ceiling. A must see that, as with 'Jaws', provides everything a growing boy needs (although, minus the hotties...).

As an African, it is very difficult to not become ambivalent to the many civil disruptions that happen on our continent. Colonialism has left a bloody legacy which is so ubiquitous across our land that for most, it is really par for the course. However, this film told a story that made me sit up and think. This films heart-felt portrayal of the destructive process of revolution and genocide, and the bravery of one in light of certain death really hit home. It made me realise that regardless of ones genetic or cultural history, Africans, and indeed I suspect all peoples, are united by something unpalpable, but powerful.

On a substantially less deep note, this movie became a staple for me after watching the preview on MTV at age 14. The openning club scene of the movie is probably one of the most memorable scenes of all time, for me anyway. The amazing music and the mix of awe and horror as the fire system errupts with blood followed by a kick-ass fight scene made for a perfect hook. This film, released prior to 'The Matrix' featured a form of bullet-time (not of the same quality, but the idea was there!) which wowed me and the film was the epitome of what made the vampire genre awesome. And then...

This should have been titled 'How to ruin an entire genre, waste time and reduce your IQ in only 121 minutes', but I guess 'Twilight' was shorter and a little more catchy. This film taught me a very valuable lesson: Even when a movie appears to be a looming cultural phenomenon, be cautious (a lesson I should have learned from 'Brokeback Mountain'...)! Kirsten Stewart cannot act to save her life, females are apparently attracted to vampires that actually look like the walking dead (perhaps it's the sparkles? Every girl likes sparklies, right?) and that the tastes of 14-16 year old girls is not something to be trusted (No offense Tes!). So, in the likely event that Stephenie Meyer reads my blog post ('cause that'll totally happen!) I have one thing to say: The world would honestly be a better place had you followed your natural urges and given up on this story with that first twinge of writers block.

The first time I watched 'Lost In Translation', the only thing I liked about it was 'Alone in Kyoto', the Air song that was used at the end of the film. But somehow, absense made this heart grow fonder and I am now a fan! Bill Murray has to be one of my favourite actors, and the story told here was something that I could really connect to, having moved to a foreign country and tried to slot into a culture I didn't understand. And I really liked the song at the end...did I mention the song?

Another movie that had me hooked from the beginning, but this time, with music. The film itself deserved all the acclaim it recieved and more. The story was amazing, the acting superb and the music, unforgettable. I actually baught the soundtrack for only two of the tracks, both my Thomas Newman, a musical genius. His subsequent work on 'Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events' just reinforced this for me.

The film itself was nothing worth bothering with. The shock-factor of the on-screen killing of live animals achieves what the director set out to; leaving the audience disturbed and queasy. However, it also served to completely undermine the message of the story. The lesson intended 'film-making should be ethical and truthful' means little when the story was made using the killing of live animals and the mutilation of an actual human cadaver, bought from a morgue, on screen.

My last addition to my list, although there are many more but I need to get some actual work done today, is Disney's 'Fantasia'. Growing up as a kid, whenever I or my siblings were sick and had to stay home from school, we would be entrusted to the care of my grandmother. Part of this process was that we were allowed to watch movies at her house (we didn't have a video machine) and this became a staple. From the dancing hippos to the dinosaurs (again, I'm a little biased, I confess) this film always delivered. The music was amazing and complimented the visuals perfectly. A fantastic effort on the part of all involved!

I'm a dad! World, meet Greg...

So, seeing as I had never attempted this in the past, I decided to give Movember a bash. Had my last shave at the end of October and have successfully grown quite the facial lawn! Behold:

This picture is a little outdated...Greg has grown substantially since this was taken.

However, two rather unpleasant things have come out of this follicle-driven endevour; My sister has fallen in love with my beard. She has decided that I am just not a whole person without it and that I should never get rid of it. Thus, she has named (I kid you not!) my beard: Greg. Her thoughts were that if I gave it a name, I would feel terrible when I eventually got rid of it and thus would be deterred from shaving ever again.

Unfortunately for her, I have no qualms about slaying Greg come December! This is because Greg has become a bit of a nuisance. He has taken on personality traits and behaviour that I find less than desirable. He seems determined to make me very aware of the fact that when I talk, I do actually use my top lip. He keeps bobbing up and down along the edge of my vision as I converse with people and it drives me nuts!

Secondly, and probably the worst of his character flaws, he has become very vexatious (I like that word...) and continuously pokes me! It's so irritating! It's a bit like a combination of having a pot scourer attached to your face and having a spider walking over your lips at the same time. And it's just that much more irritating because you know that the pot scourer is the product of your own body and that you have consciously decided to cultivate the thing!

Having said all this, I am told I look rather dashing with my new lip-lawn and that I should strive to keep it going. Unfortunately for Greg's admirers, I alone control the razor...heh heh heh...

Look to the sundog!

Yesterday morning, Johannesburg was privy to a spectacular climatological phenomenon! The sundog, or parhelion! It's a corona (ring) that forms around the sun, creating a glowing, rainbow-halo type of effect. The result: A beautiful coloured ring that encircles the sun. The effect is apparently created by the presence of tiny ice crystals floating around in the upper atmosphere in the form of cirrus clouds. By the sounds of things, the light from the sun is bent at a 22 angle, resulting in the light halo. They are apparently best observed  when the sun is low, but we saw it fine with the sun almost directly overhead. There's more info available here on the ever-faithful, source of all true knowledge: wikipedia!

Here are some of the pics that I took yesterday. The dark bits are my building; I really should have been tending to the coffee machine at the time, but these climatological phenomena don't just happen everyday you know...!

 

 

What kind of hospital is this?!

Friday last week: Much of my evening was spent in one of the local government hospitals. I was fine, but the guy who I was there for was not. He's just been hit by a car while crossing an intersection on his motorbike. The whole incident happened as I arrived to fetch my father from our church. He'd been informed that one of the young men from the church had just been hit by a car and we had to get to him as soon as possible.

At the scene, paramedics worked rapidly and diligently to stabilise him and determine the extent of his injuries. He was then transported via ambulance to a local government hospital. We followed and ended up waiting in the ER for news of his condition. While the scenario was not one that I would wish on anyone, there was one thing that emerged as the lighter side of the evening...

I'm not sure how things are in the rest of the world, but here in South Africa, a Friday night is the night that you really don't want to have to go to a government hospital. Our government hospitals are pretty bad as is, but are the only health care available to people who don't have or cannot afford medical aid schemes and thus the luxury of a private hospital. The setting is made so much worse on a Friday because Friday nights are nights of revelry and drinking.

As we sat in the ER, a man in his 40's arrived, walking very slowly and unsteadily into the ER from the main waiting area at reception. He was clearly sozzled, but as I looked around I realised that there were very few in the ER that were not, so thought nothing of it. However, this man was different; he was on a mission.

He moved with unsteady purpose to the guy who ran the ER. I'm not sure of the job description for someone who prioritises ER cases, but I shall refer to him as Clive (I also don't know what his name was, so I can't even use that...). As the subject approached Clive, he began to speak to him in hushed tones. He spoke in English but so quietly that there was no way to understand what he was saying. Clive, having heard the full extent of his slurred story, spoke rather loudly and instructed the man to speak to the people at reception.

The subject nodded his head slowly and did a half turn back toward reception before the penny, well, didn't so much as drop as gracefully ooze through his alcohol-laden brain. Clive had not given him the help he wanted! With the sluggish fury that only the inebriated can muster, he rotated back to Clive for a repeat performance.

But Clive, moving at the pace of a normal person, was not there! Obviously befuddled and annoyed, he gyrated again to shuffle to the ER help desk. Ironically, and unfortunately for Clive, Clive had moved behind the desk to collect and deposit paperwork. As Clive looked up and saw the drunkard approaching, he moved quickly, shuffling papers and trying to get things in order before the drunkard could get to him. Alas, he was too slow.

The drunkard arrived, apparently pleased to see Clive behind the desk. He began to recount he tale to Clive again, but Clive, obviously a conscientious man, had a job to do and would not tolerate this man's ramblings much longer. He instructed the drunkard to step aside and that he would help him in a moment.

Apparently pleased with the outcome, the drunkard obliged, standing in the centre of the chaotic ER, occasionally swaying from side to side with a look of complete incomprehension on his face. A moment later, Clive emerged and took his new chum aside. He informed the man that his wife, who he was apparently here to see, was in the Gynecology ward on the first floor and that it was well past visiting hours, but they would allow him to go up and see her. Apparently satisfied with this, the drunkard inquired as to how to get to the Gynecology ward. Clive, having given up on being civil, told him in a stiff tone to take the elevator. Apparently we had all underestimated just how much revelry our subject had engaged in because his next question must have really been the last straw for Clive.

'But how do I get the elevator to work?'

Clive, now stiffling chuckles, instructed him to press the number '1' button on the panel in the elevator and it would take him to the floor he wanted. The man appeared satisfied with this and slower than before rotated toward the elevator. Having performed a 180 turn, he then turned back to the space where Clive had been. This time, his wobbly anger was directed at the hospital as an institution. He began to mutter things like, 'What button? I don't see any button here!' and 'What kind of a hospital is this?!' all while pressing his thumb to random sections of the wall in the hopes that they would activate the elevator and transport him to the floor above.

After about 5 min of observing this, one of our party took pity on the man and guided him to the elevator, put him into it and pressed the appropriate button for him. We assume he found his wife because we never saw him again. That or he collapsed somewhere and slept it off...

Circus life, here I come!

So on Saturday, I went with a group of my friends to JoziX, an extreme sports park up in the north of Johannesburg. It's activities are all centred around large inflatable rigs so there's no danger of hurting yourself (unless you don't listen to the instructions, but how's that any different to any other physical activities, like ironing?). If you are ever in Joburg, it's well worth the price (financial and physical; you will be in pain the next day; you WORK those muscles...). In spite of the unpleasant end to the day (for me anyway) it was one of the best things I've ever done! I plan to return and complete my trapeze training once I'm all healed up! All the stuff comes from New Zealand. Who thought we'd have something to thank the Kiwi's for? ;P

The monkey bars! You have to swing from bar to bar and then try and sweep over the ears of the angry blue cat on the other end. I managed to land beautifully inbetween the ears and have the cat's head close on my like a pair of scissors...

Proper zorbing! SO much fun! Wanted to puke at the end, but adrenalin did away with the nausea!

Anyone remember 'Gladiators'? Same idea, only you pummel a friend instead of a steroid-laced body-builder...

Tight rope! I managed to grab the handle on the other side and then lost my balance. Good fun though!

The inflatable climbing wall! Much harder than you would think! There are four walls: Red is the easiest, yellow's the hardest. I can do red...that's all.

The highlight of my day! Trapeze! So cool and so much fun!

My cousin doing the trapeze thing. He even managed to transfer to the next handle thing! It looked amazing! I nearly did, but somehow ended up tearing large chunks of skin out of my palms, so doing the full manoeuvre was not going to happen.

Me holding swabs with disinfectant onto my then skinless palms. Painful, but TOTALLY worth it! That trapeze is my new love... 

*(I really have nothing against New Zealanders except for when they kick our ass at the rugby. It's just fun to play on the stereotypes. In fact, I have family there now! They're not true Kiwi's because they're actually from South Africa and moved there, but it's the closest thing I have...)

Friday is NOT a work day!

A while back I posted about how fantastic Fridays were because we got to have doughnuts and coffee. Well since then, Fridays have continued to uphold all that is important and true. However, this Friday has been a little different...

Our supervisor is away at the moment and, well, when the cats away, the mice...swordfight with broom-sticks!

...or perhaps a little song and dance number?

Time-warp tests

Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of having to invigilate a test or exam in their lifetime can attest to this simple truth; it’s not fun. Tests seem to alter the space-time continuum, drawing time out, extending it beyond what is normally possible. It’s much like deadlines, which compress time into smaller and smaller bits, but it works in the opposite way.


Anyone who has ever invigilated a test will also tell you that as an invigilator you need something to occupy your mind while doing this job. If you don’t, the time-warping effect of the test is exacerbated tenfold. If you are smart, you take a book to read, or some marking to do from the previous time that you invigilated. But if you are like me, you only realise you are supposed to be invigilating about two minutes before the test starts and thus fail in the forward-planning department and end up stuck, pacing the rows of students with nothing to occupy your time.

On Friday, I had to invigilate such a test. Unfortunately, true to form, I completely forgot about it and thus failed to take reading material with me. I had walked briskly across campus, strolling nonchalantly past the students who were waiting outside the test venue (as their lecturer, you must maintain your coolness at all times). Once inside the large building, I realised that the test hadn’t even been set out, never mind ready for the students to write. I also discovered that the class, being in excess of 400 students, would be writing in two consecutive sessions.

Once the test was set out, the first batch of students came in to write. Time took on the consistency of syrup and my mind began to strain at the growing emptiness inside. When invigilating, I find that I tend to become pathologically eagre to do mundane tasks; things like collecting unused transcripts, counting the number of absentees, estimating the ages of students, counting how many students pick their noses thinking nobody is watching all become of the utmost importance. Occasionally a student will put up their hand for an extra sheet or to request an escort to the bathroom and your mind rejoices at the opportunity to do something.

After the first batch of students wrote and had been released, the second lot filed into their places and began to worry for my mental health. I still had another hour of waiting before my invigilating duties would come to an end. As the second lot started writing, time, having given a brief respite and returning to normal speed, resumed it’s passage at the speed of snot. I too resumed my seemingly critical tasks. It was during one such task, drifting down one of the aisles between desks, that I noticed something odd.

The test venue is a large hall, built to resemble an aircraft hanger. Whether this was intentional or merely my own perception, I cannot say. But one wall of the building is made mostly of one-way glass. Pacing inside the hall, I looked through the one-way glass to see a pair of girls outside, apparently in the throws of some sort of synchronised seizure or demonic possession. As I got closer to the window, I realised that the pair were actually practicing their synchronised dance moves, using the reflection off the glass to aid them.

While this in itself was amusing, what made it so much worse was the fact that the pair were, I assume, blissfully ignorant to the fact that there were over 200 students sitting inside the room, able to see them. At one stage one of the writing students stopped her test and watched over her shoulder for a good 5 min as the duo gyrated and stamped around outside. I too watched them as they flailed around, occasionally bursting into fits of laughter when one appeared to fail at twitching at the right time.

The responsibility of watching the students drew my mind back to the writing masses. Suddenly, a shriek was herd and I turned back to see what had happened. As I turned, it became clear that the pair outside were the noise. As I watched, the pair tore around the parking lot outside apparently being pursued by something small and white. I looked closer and realised that they were being chased around by a Maltese poodle and that the dog was determined to take them down, no matter the cost. One friend broke away, successfully evading the pooch while the second continued her rampage of shrieking. Eventually, she stopped, apparently exhausted from all the running and screaming, and the dog stopped to. The pair caught their breath and then resumed their chase.

Unfortunately, the test time was nearly up and I had to tear myself away from this very amusing episode. However, I think this has to have been one of the most exciting test invigilations I’ve ever done! It was awesome!

Pessimism and the W.C.

No, not that W.C. ! The World Cup of course!

The W.C. What can I say...Firstly, I sincerely hope that they never get to host it in this country again for as long as I live! I know, I know...I'm unpatriotic and un-South African...blah blah blah. But there are some really big reasons why I'm anti-W.C. at the moment.

Numero uno: It's been really irritating because absolutely everything now is about the world cup! Just the other day, my uncle went to the licensing department to try and get his car re-licensed and the place was closed, only to open an hour later. The reason? The staff were being taught the official world cup dance (it's called the diski dance for those who need to know; what diski has to do with soccer, I have no freaking clue...)! We have a world cup dance?! I mean really! Can't the money that was spent on hiring a Fifa-approved choreographer have been put to better use?! But thank God that now, should some misguided tourist waft into the licensing department and ask for the staff to break into dance, they will be able to deliver without hesitation! Now if only they could process their forms with that kind of efficiency...

Secondly, our country has been inundated with billions of flags. There are flags on everything! People have flags on their cars, houses, children...you name it, it's done! Actually, the children part, I have yet to come across, but I am fairly certain there are a few branded kiddies out there, unaware that they are punting their parent's favourite team. None the less, the flags are a bit much! They have even invented side-mirror socks which allow you to display the flag of your choice on your side mirrors! To give you an idea of how bad it is, several of the houses in our area now display little plastic flags all along their walls; not just of one country,mind you! They display the flags of every team that will be playing! So it's not even about supporting a team!

Once again, the futility of displaying all the flags like this doesn't seem to have dawned on most of the populous. In my opinion, foreigners are not likely to adorn their exorbitantly priced rental vehicles with the flags of their homes so the competition for best soccer supported is a little unfairly weighted toward the SA guys. They are also unlikely to have difficulty in identifying South African drivers on the roads, certainly not up here in Joburg. Just look out for the ones who are aiming at the other cars...that's us! So the need for South Africans to plaster flags over everything is completely unfounded...

Just the other day, I was on my way in to Wits on the highway when I saw, lying dirty and damaged in the freshly cut grass of the middle island, one of those horrid car flags which had obviously snapped off it's host car as they zoomed down the freeway. I felt so good to see it, which gives you some idea of just how sick I am of the stupid flags...

Thirdly, and most importantly, Fifa has demanded that for the duration of the world cup, all street vendors, hawkers and street salesmen are to be rounded up and arrested if they are caught selling their wares on the streets of the host cities! So effectively for two months, these people who make a meagre living on a good day, are to be deprived of their income! Not to mention that Fifa should be paying them compensation for this, but also, the hawkers are such a typically South African thing and by removing them they are also detracting from the full South African experience of visitors!

Other than that, we're all very excited!

Apparently some soccer fundi says that Bafana will be at an advantage because of the fact that they are used to playing with the vuvuzelas and rowdy crowds of South African Soccer. So perhaps we do stand a chance after all!

The car that gave birth to a kitten

Monday morning; I awoke at 05h45. Insane, I know. But I had to go to work out with my good pal, Dave. The two of us gym together regularly (or try to anyway...) as it forces both of us to do it and helps to keep us motivated. We work out early in the morning because, a) it offers a good excuse not to just sleep in every day and b) we go running in the evenings, so working out in the evening isn't really an option.

On this particular morning, I was unusually alert and managed to get out of bed, get dressed and out of the house in five minutes. To put this into perspective, I am usually so groggy and semi-comatose that it takes me a good 15 minutes to organise myself. So, ready and eager to get going after the Christmas hiatus I collected my car keys and started up my car.

I pulled out of the drive and began to putter along down my road. The crisp morning air was refreshing and humid, carrying the rain from last nights storms back to the clouds above. The roads were their usual desolate selves, unsurprising, given that it was so early. As I pulled into the road which joins one of the main roads in our suburb, I noticed a white Hyundai, perched on the crest of the speed hump in the middle of the road. The car was running, the occupants holding it there, waiting for something. I assumed that they were waiting for a colleague or friend to emerge from the house opposite.

As I got closer I noticed something dark attached to the undercarriage of the car. Now, understand, my knowledge of the anatomy of a car is horrific at best, but this still seemed out of place. I slowed behind the car, expecting them to pull off at any second. But they didn't budge.

However, the lump under the car did.

It wiggled a little and then landed on the tarmac lightly, only to tear across the road as a white, albeit fluffy, bolt of terror. As I watched, I realised that it was a tiny white kitten! My brain instinctively told me that it was way too early to be up anyway and so this probably hadn't really happened. But as I drove past, I realised that it was all real, the scared little cat glaring back at the car from the safety of the driveway.

The poor little thing probably climbed up into the engine of the car for warmth the night before and had not realised what was going on until it was out in the street already. The poor thing must have got such a fright! But it appeared to be okay, if not a little ticked off. The whole experience was very surreal to say the least!

Rodents!!

Prepare for the 'Awww!' moment.


These are some photos of the rodents that have graced our lab within the last two or three days. Naturally, they are all adorable and make you instinctively want to take them home with you.

Exhibit A:

These are a group of 6 baby dormice that were found in the field. Their mother had died and they were scuttling around on their lonesome. They are currently in the care of an individual from another lab.

One of the little ones up close.
Exhibit B:

This little critter was brought in with a group of gerbils (see below). It's a Mus minutoides or African pygmy mouse. You'll never guess why they chose that name...

In case you are struggling to see where the mouse is, here's an enlarged section of the above picture. To give you an idea of scale, that blue pipe in the back is approximately 5.5cm in diameter...

Exhibit C:

Gerbils...Some people think they are cute. I'm not a fan, but they did arrive recently so I have to include them.

Exhibit D:

Last but certainly not least, Rhabdomys babies! Leia's latest catch produced offspring over the last two weeks so now we have little striped mice! They are adorable!

The problem with the internet is that you can't broadcast smells...

Yesterday was a ridiculous day! It began with the introduction of coconuts to Tas and co. Midway through our munchings, we were interrupted by a student from one of the adjacent labs who had come to announce that the only freezer in our department which can be maintained at -80˚C had been off all weekend because the wall socket it had been plugged into had given up the ghost for no apparent reason. As a result, any material that we had stored in there was more than likely useless as it had probably decayed beyond all recognition.

As one does in our department, we shrugged it off and figured that there would be a few students who would be upset, but the world would continue to turn none-the-less. We were wrong...

As it turned out, the fridge was determined to go out with a bang and that bang was targeted at everyone who worked in our side of the building. The decaying material (which included cat-food - WHY?!) had, as decaying material does, produced the most noxious stench our building has ever smelled. The pong was also really sneaky...it remained out of smell for a good part of the day and then rushed at all of us will full smelly force just after lunch time.

In an effort to overcome the stench, one of the resident academics decided to try and burn some Helichrysum, which she had obtained from a local traditional healers market. The result was a combination of putrification with burning plants and a hint of marijuana (and not in a good way...).

It was around this time that Tas entered my lab and uttered the words, 'What died?!' which pretty much summed things up. We also came to the conclusion that our building has absolutely no fire/smoke alarms at all; a comforting thought...

As much as appreciated the attempt to improve the olfactory conditions of our labs, the smell became too much and we all decided that it was a good idea to go home. So, we all packed ourselves up and began walking out of the building. As we arrived at one of the staircases, we noticed that there was a small cascade of water pouring down the stairs into the passage. As it turned out, one of the pipes had burst on the third floor and the water was using the stairs, as any sensible sentient being would. We gave it some space as the water was slightly yellow and, being that it had come from one of the microbiology labs, you really never know what it could contain...

This morning, when I returned to my lab, the stench still remained and had yet to be exorcised from the building. Some kind soul had replaced the burning plants with incense sticks so instead of the smell of burning grass, we had a building that smelled like an ashram.

And people wonder why I enjoy the work I do...

Ode to the weekend and running!

I have managed to get through half of my marking for the weekend already! Yay! So, to celebrate, I'm going to go home and go for a run!

It's amazing to think that I, of all people, could possibly enjoy running that much, that I actually look forward to it! A year ago, I'd never have believed that I might get to this point of actually enjoying my running, and yet, here I am, loving it! It's quite bizarre...

Well, I really don't have anything more to say. It's a Friday. The day is almost nearly over and I feel a rewarding jog is in order. Cheerio! But before I go, the photos from our lab Halloween party:

Okay, this has nothing to do with the party, it's just a really cute forlorn-looking doggy... :)

Tas getting into the Halloween spirit.

One of our obese lab mice oggling us as we prepare food...

Our Halloween spiders! Made from scones, grated cheese, raisins and prezel sticks! Genius!

Making an army of cheese-covered spiders!

P.S. I really need a holiday...I keep dreaming I'm on holiday. It's really annoying!

Well, that was a complete waste of time!

After a good 7 hours, I've finally finished marking the first batch of my medic's practical exams. And I'm not-so-proud to announce that if a third of them pass, it'll be a miracle! It's SO depressing when you mark and realise that all those hours that you spent typing up notes, preparing lectures, giving lectures, preparing practicals and supervising practicals were all for naught. Nothing has sunken in...

It's quite amazing how little understanding of the world they have! For example, my friend Athena, who has not studied biology at all and considers her knowledge of biology limited, appears to have a better grasp of the anatomy of a rat than the average medical student who dissected the wretched creatures for a whole THREE WEEKS!!!

What also leaves me completely speechless is there inability to perform relatively simplistic and straight-forward tasks, like read the instructions on their exam paper. The number of students that completely ignore the instructions and write what they feel the question should be asking is scary to say the least.

Prime example: One of the questions asked them to plot a line graph of a set of mass-specific metabolic rates (basically how much energy used for every gram of body mass in a given time) against their corresponding mass values. What do I get?

A million graphs of mass-specific metabolic rate plotted against species, or mass against species!!! Every possible combination except the one they were ASKED for!!!

(In case you were wondering, I'm a little frustrated and despairing at the moment. I think I'll go home and it'll all be okay in the morning...)

My little sister

Gosh I hate blogger sometimes!! I had written up a whole post, and then tried to copy/paste it, and now it refuses to paste! AARGH!!!

Anyways, the point of todays post is to showcase my sisters artwork. She's doing her BA fine arts, specialising in sculpture. Today she has to exhibit all of her works from the whole year to be marked. I'm not entirely sure how one goes about marking an artwork, but anyway...

So here are the results. I'm rather impressed with it all! If you happen to be at Wits today, I'm sure she'd be chuffed to have you waddle through and 'Ooo!' and 'Aah!' at it... ;)



For this piece, their directive was to do something for a full 24 hrs. So what did my sister choose? FRENCH KNITTING!!! Of all things to do...The amazing thing about this piece is that it really does preserve the 24 hours in a tangible way; she used different coloured bits of wool for each hour, so the result is a long woolen sausage made of multiple coloured bands, each a chronicle of that hour. She can even point out at which points she fell asleep...The wool on the wall is the response piece to her knitting. The class had to respond to her work and so she got them to unravel tangled wool (the same colours as the piece itself) for an hour. The total that they unraveled was wound up into a wool ball and laid at the floor of each tangle.

For this piece, she made casts of her feet in plaster. The moulding and casting process was loads of fun! We got to play around with the awesome silicon-rubber moulding stuff! It's bright purple and requires that you mix two chemicals together; one bright blue, the other bright pink. Very 5 year old birthday party, just without the screaming children and the nausea from eating too many sweets and potato chips. She then poured resin over the feet to represent the washing of feet (mirroring the story in the bible of Jesus' feet being washed). I'm not entirely sure what the significance of this all was, but it looks cool and we got to play around with some awesome chemicals!

My personal favourite: The tree of the knowledge of good and evil. For this my sister took a real tree (or at least, part of one...) and coated it in aluminium foil. The leaves were all hand-made by her and the rest of us. We then helped her attach them to the branch. The idea, apart from the fact that she just likes foil (as you will see later), is that the tree itself reflects the observer. It's also a dynamic piece as the reflections are constantly changing, depending on where you stand around it. I asked her if I could have this one, but she'd promised it to someone already...

Her last piece, and her favourite, is a statue of St. Lucia, again, coated in aluminium foil. My sister's name is Lucia, so this might be why she likes this one so much...Surrounding the piece are hundreds of origami lillies, also made of foil. We were all recruited to make those too. They are not easy to make at all! Folding foil like that is a mission! But, with the help of the extended family and a few friends, it got done.

Just to confirm, my sister is in fact fascinated by religious iconography, so that's why the themes for most of these are of biblical/religious origin.