Photo courtesy www.topleftpixel.com
Hello
Just a quick note to thank you for your article highlighting the plight of the San.
I have put a link to your story on reporter.co.za, from the Sunday Times website too, in the hopes that more people will then see it.
In the related links, I have also dropped in mentions of two advocacy groups who are trying to campaign for the San.
PS
I have mentioned you to the Sunday Times correspondent for the Free State and Lesotho. His name is Julian Rademeyer -- I thought he could be useful contact for you. Have you met him, or spoken to him? He's a good guy who loves the journalism profession.
Thanks and regards
Juliette Saunders
Editor
Johncom Digital Media division
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
R2280
Is it worth going to PE for 4 days, and paying R2280 just to use the car? I don't think so. Perhaps I'll come back earlier then.
Am considering asking my father if I can use his bakkie. Ugly hunk of metal that, and I'm not so skint that I'm desperate enough to ask for it.
Hostel meeting tonight. Re3sted yesterday, so need to get out and train a bit today.
My bicycles back wheel has a puncture again - despite taking it to Cyclopede and not even riding on it.
My pet peeve at the moment is that people don't get back to you when they say they will. Not just one person, a whole bunch.
Writing tests at school so they are becoming a bit more manageable. Meanwhile I have just starting marking a mountain of formal tests. Lhotse (aka lots) to go.
Kunstler: The Road To War
May 29, 2006 The New York Times Sunday Magazine ran a front-page story this week about the difficulties faced by American soldiers returning home from active duty. Their emotions are complicated, ranging from the now-familiar post-traumatic stress disorders, to the reality of horrible physical injury, to a strange letdown from the loss of personal power they enjoyed as armed warriors in a scruffy land with life-or-death policing authority.
A few things struck me about this excellent story, by Scott Anderson. One was the fact that our method for prosecuting this war is almost entirely based on driving around in cars, and that consequently most of the deaths and injuries have occurred in connection with roadside bombs or attacks on vehicles.
]
The source of Radaker's problems behind the wheel seemed easy enough to trace and underscored Martin Sweeny's comments about the extended state of extreme vigilance the soldiers in Iraq had endured. Radaker had been a Humvee driver in Alpha Company and had taken the demands of that task very much to heart.
"I was the most experienced driver in our platoon," he explained to me, "and I just thought it was my job to keep everybody in my platoon safe, to always be looking. They taught us, 'Watch the road, watch the road,' so when I was driving, I was always watching, not just the road, but what's on the left, what's on the right, watching up, watching down."
The incessant patrols down Iraqi highways in the Sunni Triangle described here, and the "recovery missions" to aid other Humvee crews who had run into trouble was a disturbing analog to those familiar incessant trips of civilian life down the highway strip to the WalMart. To some extent, the essence of our mission over there has been to ensure that those trips to the WalMart will continue.
The soldiers interviewed in Anderson's story (nor Anderson himself) had no apprehension that this was itself perhaps an act of futility -- that the easy motoring existence back home was remorselessly entering its terminal phase, due to the global oil situation, and that all the Humvees on God's green earth would not avail to preserve it. Another element of the story that stood out was the way these returned soldiers missed the exhilaration and camaraderie of the war zone, and what a contrast it had been to the banalities of civilian life they returned to in small town Pennsylvania. Some were eager to go back over. Others, while not exactly eager, were willing to go back if their national guard unit was called back into rotation. Though this was not spelled out in the story, you sensed the utter vacuum of masculine roles in American civilian life these days.
Everybody, more or less, male or female, has been reduced to the status of a soccer mom, condemned in one way or another, to endless duty driving the family cars here and there and everywhere, assigned the demeaning label of "consumers," with no duties, obligations, or responsibilities to anything greater than fetching Cheez Doodles and Pepsi for the larder back home in the double-wide. In all the blather about the sufferings of women the past quarter-century, not a whole lot of attention has been paid to the dearth of meaningful roles for men, both socially and in work, and the drawn-out adventure in Iraq has stimulated a recognition that the passivity of "consumerdom" is not enough to keep society sane.
In my opinion, this must even redound into our politics, especially the politics of the Democratic party, if it is going to survive. It has to be re-masculinized. It has to allow men to come back into the centers of power, including the power to speak the truth -- even if the truth hurts somebody's feelings.
A few things struck me about this excellent story, by Scott Anderson. One was the fact that our method for prosecuting this war is almost entirely based on driving around in cars, and that consequently most of the deaths and injuries have occurred in connection with roadside bombs or attacks on vehicles.
]
The source of Radaker's problems behind the wheel seemed easy enough to trace and underscored Martin Sweeny's comments about the extended state of extreme vigilance the soldiers in Iraq had endured. Radaker had been a Humvee driver in Alpha Company and had taken the demands of that task very much to heart.
"I was the most experienced driver in our platoon," he explained to me, "and I just thought it was my job to keep everybody in my platoon safe, to always be looking. They taught us, 'Watch the road, watch the road,' so when I was driving, I was always watching, not just the road, but what's on the left, what's on the right, watching up, watching down."
The incessant patrols down Iraqi highways in the Sunni Triangle described here, and the "recovery missions" to aid other Humvee crews who had run into trouble was a disturbing analog to those familiar incessant trips of civilian life down the highway strip to the WalMart. To some extent, the essence of our mission over there has been to ensure that those trips to the WalMart will continue.
The soldiers interviewed in Anderson's story (nor Anderson himself) had no apprehension that this was itself perhaps an act of futility -- that the easy motoring existence back home was remorselessly entering its terminal phase, due to the global oil situation, and that all the Humvees on God's green earth would not avail to preserve it. Another element of the story that stood out was the way these returned soldiers missed the exhilaration and camaraderie of the war zone, and what a contrast it had been to the banalities of civilian life they returned to in small town Pennsylvania. Some were eager to go back over. Others, while not exactly eager, were willing to go back if their national guard unit was called back into rotation. Though this was not spelled out in the story, you sensed the utter vacuum of masculine roles in American civilian life these days.
Everybody, more or less, male or female, has been reduced to the status of a soccer mom, condemned in one way or another, to endless duty driving the family cars here and there and everywhere, assigned the demeaning label of "consumers," with no duties, obligations, or responsibilities to anything greater than fetching Cheez Doodles and Pepsi for the larder back home in the double-wide. In all the blather about the sufferings of women the past quarter-century, not a whole lot of attention has been paid to the dearth of meaningful roles for men, both socially and in work, and the drawn-out adventure in Iraq has stimulated a recognition that the passivity of "consumerdom" is not enough to keep society sane.
In my opinion, this must even redound into our politics, especially the politics of the Democratic party, if it is going to survive. It has to be re-masculinized. It has to allow men to come back into the centers of power, including the power to speak the truth -- even if the truth hurts somebody's feelings.
Kunstler: The Road To War
May 29, 2006 The New York Times Sunday Magazine ran a front-page story this week about the difficulties faced by American soldiers returning home from active duty. Their emotions are complicated, ranging from the now-familiar post-traumatic stress disorders, to the reality of horrible physical injury, to a strange letdown from the loss of personal power they enjoyed as armed warriors in a scruffy land with life-or-death policing authority.
A few things struck me about this excellent story, by Scott Anderson. One was the fact that our method for prosecuting this war is almost entirely based on driving around in cars, and that consequently most of the deaths and injuries have occurred in connection with roadside bombs or attacks on vehicles.
]
The source of Radaker's problems behind the wheel seemed easy enough to trace and underscored Martin Sweeny's comments about the extended state of extreme vigilance the soldiers in Iraq had endured. Radaker had been a Humvee driver in Alpha Company and had taken the demands of that task very much to heart.
"I was the most experienced driver in our platoon," he explained to me, "and I just thought it was my job to keep everybody in my platoon safe, to always be looking. They taught us, 'Watch the road, watch the road,' so when I was driving, I was always watching, not just the road, but what's on the left, what's on the right, watching up, watching down."
The incessant patrols down Iraqi highways in the Sunni Triangle described here, and the "recovery missions" to aid other Humvee crews who had run into trouble was a disturbing analog to those familiar incessant trips of civilian life down the highway strip to the WalMart. To some extent, the essence of our mission over there has been to ensure that those trips to the WalMart will continue.
The soldiers interviewed in Anderson's story (nor Anderson himself) had no apprehension that this was itself perhaps an act of futility -- that the easy motoring existence back home was remorselessly entering its terminal phase, due to the global oil situation, and that all the Humvees on God's green earth would not avail to preserve it. Another element of the story that stood out was the way these returned soldiers missed the exhilaration and camaraderie of the war zone, and what a contrast it had been to the banalities of civilian life they returned to in small town Pennsylvania. Some were eager to go back over. Others, while not exactly eager, were willing to go back if their national guard unit was called back into rotation. Though this was not spelled out in the story, you sensed the utter vacuum of masculine roles in American civilian life these days.
Everybody, more or less, male or female, has been reduced to the status of a soccer mom, condemned in one way or another, to endless duty driving the family cars here and there and everywhere, assigned the demeaning label of "consumers," with no duties, obligations, or responsibilities to anything greater than fetching Cheez Doodles and Pepsi for the larder back home in the double-wide. In all the blather about the sufferings of women the past quarter-century, not a whole lot of attention has been paid to the dearth of meaningful roles for men, both socially and in work, and the drawn-out adventure in Iraq has stimulated a recognition that the passivity of "consumerdom" is not enough to keep society sane.
In my opinion, this must even redound into our politics, especially the politics of the Democratic party, if it is going to survive. It has to be re-masculinized. It has to allow men to come back into the centers of power, including the power to speak the truth -- even if the truth hurts somebody's feelings.
A few things struck me about this excellent story, by Scott Anderson. One was the fact that our method for prosecuting this war is almost entirely based on driving around in cars, and that consequently most of the deaths and injuries have occurred in connection with roadside bombs or attacks on vehicles.
]
The source of Radaker's problems behind the wheel seemed easy enough to trace and underscored Martin Sweeny's comments about the extended state of extreme vigilance the soldiers in Iraq had endured. Radaker had been a Humvee driver in Alpha Company and had taken the demands of that task very much to heart.
"I was the most experienced driver in our platoon," he explained to me, "and I just thought it was my job to keep everybody in my platoon safe, to always be looking. They taught us, 'Watch the road, watch the road,' so when I was driving, I was always watching, not just the road, but what's on the left, what's on the right, watching up, watching down."
The incessant patrols down Iraqi highways in the Sunni Triangle described here, and the "recovery missions" to aid other Humvee crews who had run into trouble was a disturbing analog to those familiar incessant trips of civilian life down the highway strip to the WalMart. To some extent, the essence of our mission over there has been to ensure that those trips to the WalMart will continue.
The soldiers interviewed in Anderson's story (nor Anderson himself) had no apprehension that this was itself perhaps an act of futility -- that the easy motoring existence back home was remorselessly entering its terminal phase, due to the global oil situation, and that all the Humvees on God's green earth would not avail to preserve it. Another element of the story that stood out was the way these returned soldiers missed the exhilaration and camaraderie of the war zone, and what a contrast it had been to the banalities of civilian life they returned to in small town Pennsylvania. Some were eager to go back over. Others, while not exactly eager, were willing to go back if their national guard unit was called back into rotation. Though this was not spelled out in the story, you sensed the utter vacuum of masculine roles in American civilian life these days.
Everybody, more or less, male or female, has been reduced to the status of a soccer mom, condemned in one way or another, to endless duty driving the family cars here and there and everywhere, assigned the demeaning label of "consumers," with no duties, obligations, or responsibilities to anything greater than fetching Cheez Doodles and Pepsi for the larder back home in the double-wide. In all the blather about the sufferings of women the past quarter-century, not a whole lot of attention has been paid to the dearth of meaningful roles for men, both socially and in work, and the drawn-out adventure in Iraq has stimulated a recognition that the passivity of "consumerdom" is not enough to keep society sane.
In my opinion, this must even redound into our politics, especially the politics of the Democratic party, if it is going to survive. It has to be re-masculinized. It has to allow men to come back into the centers of power, including the power to speak the truth -- even if the truth hurts somebody's feelings.
Kunstler: The Road To War
May 29, 2006 The New York Times Sunday Magazine ran a front-page story this week about the difficulties faced by American soldiers returning home from active duty. Their emotions are complicated, ranging from the now-familiar post-traumatic stress disorders, to the reality of horrible physical injury, to a strange letdown from the loss of personal power they enjoyed as armed warriors in a scruffy land with life-or-death policing authority.
A few things struck me about this excellent story, by Scott Anderson. One was the fact that our method for prosecuting this war is almost entirely based on driving around in cars, and that consequently most of the deaths and injuries have occurred in connection with roadside bombs or attacks on vehicles.
]
The source of Radaker's problems behind the wheel seemed easy enough to trace and underscored Martin Sweeny's comments about the extended state of extreme vigilance the soldiers in Iraq had endured. Radaker had been a Humvee driver in Alpha Company and had taken the demands of that task very much to heart.
"I was the most experienced driver in our platoon," he explained to me, "and I just thought it was my job to keep everybody in my platoon safe, to always be looking. They taught us, 'Watch the road, watch the road,' so when I was driving, I was always watching, not just the road, but what's on the left, what's on the right, watching up, watching down."
The incessant patrols down Iraqi highways in the Sunni Triangle described here, and the "recovery missions" to aid other Humvee crews who had run into trouble was a disturbing analog to those familiar incessant trips of civilian life down the highway strip to the WalMart. To some extent, the essence of our mission over there has been to ensure that those trips to the WalMart will continue.
The soldiers interviewed in Anderson's story (nor Anderson himself) had no apprehension that this was itself perhaps an act of futility -- that the easy motoring existence back home was remorselessly entering its terminal phase, due to the global oil situation, and that all the Humvees on God's green earth would not avail to preserve it. Another element of the story that stood out was the way these returned soldiers missed the exhilaration and camaraderie of the war zone, and what a contrast it had been to the banalities of civilian life they returned to in small town Pennsylvania. Some were eager to go back over. Others, while not exactly eager, were willing to go back if their national guard unit was called back into rotation. Though this was not spelled out in the story, you sensed the utter vacuum of masculine roles in American civilian life these days.
Everybody, more or less, male or female, has been reduced to the status of a soccer mom, condemned in one way or another, to endless duty driving the family cars here and there and everywhere, assigned the demeaning label of "consumers," with no duties, obligations, or responsibilities to anything greater than fetching Cheez Doodles and Pepsi for the larder back home in the double-wide. In all the blather about the sufferings of women the past quarter-century, not a whole lot of attention has been paid to the dearth of meaningful roles for men, both socially and in work, and the drawn-out adventure in Iraq has stimulated a recognition that the passivity of "consumerdom" is not enough to keep society sane.
In my opinion, this must even redound into our politics, especially the politics of the Democratic party, if it is going to survive. It has to be re-masculinized. It has to allow men to come back into the centers of power, including the power to speak the truth -- even if the truth hurts somebody's feelings.
A few things struck me about this excellent story, by Scott Anderson. One was the fact that our method for prosecuting this war is almost entirely based on driving around in cars, and that consequently most of the deaths and injuries have occurred in connection with roadside bombs or attacks on vehicles.
]
The source of Radaker's problems behind the wheel seemed easy enough to trace and underscored Martin Sweeny's comments about the extended state of extreme vigilance the soldiers in Iraq had endured. Radaker had been a Humvee driver in Alpha Company and had taken the demands of that task very much to heart.
"I was the most experienced driver in our platoon," he explained to me, "and I just thought it was my job to keep everybody in my platoon safe, to always be looking. They taught us, 'Watch the road, watch the road,' so when I was driving, I was always watching, not just the road, but what's on the left, what's on the right, watching up, watching down."
The incessant patrols down Iraqi highways in the Sunni Triangle described here, and the "recovery missions" to aid other Humvee crews who had run into trouble was a disturbing analog to those familiar incessant trips of civilian life down the highway strip to the WalMart. To some extent, the essence of our mission over there has been to ensure that those trips to the WalMart will continue.
The soldiers interviewed in Anderson's story (nor Anderson himself) had no apprehension that this was itself perhaps an act of futility -- that the easy motoring existence back home was remorselessly entering its terminal phase, due to the global oil situation, and that all the Humvees on God's green earth would not avail to preserve it. Another element of the story that stood out was the way these returned soldiers missed the exhilaration and camaraderie of the war zone, and what a contrast it had been to the banalities of civilian life they returned to in small town Pennsylvania. Some were eager to go back over. Others, while not exactly eager, were willing to go back if their national guard unit was called back into rotation. Though this was not spelled out in the story, you sensed the utter vacuum of masculine roles in American civilian life these days.
Everybody, more or less, male or female, has been reduced to the status of a soccer mom, condemned in one way or another, to endless duty driving the family cars here and there and everywhere, assigned the demeaning label of "consumers," with no duties, obligations, or responsibilities to anything greater than fetching Cheez Doodles and Pepsi for the larder back home in the double-wide. In all the blather about the sufferings of women the past quarter-century, not a whole lot of attention has been paid to the dearth of meaningful roles for men, both socially and in work, and the drawn-out adventure in Iraq has stimulated a recognition that the passivity of "consumerdom" is not enough to keep society sane.
In my opinion, this must even redound into our politics, especially the politics of the Democratic party, if it is going to survive. It has to be re-masculinized. It has to allow men to come back into the centers of power, including the power to speak the truth -- even if the truth hurts somebody's feelings.
Cold Turkey
Beat the flu without multivitamins
by Nick van der Leek
If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll have noticed all the commercials on television advertising multivitamins. One brags that it can fit the equivalent of 8 oranges (more or less) into a single tablet – in terms of vitamin C. Oh really?
While it is popularly believed (as a sort of conventional wisdom) that multivitamins work, there is very little evidence to support this. My theory is that it is a kind of wish fulfillment. Sure, we’d like to be healthy, and we’d like to believe tablets will protect us. We’d also like to believe that they are loaded with very special nutrients. But you know, you cannot store vitamin C. It’s a special ingredient, and it is bound to the life of plant tissues. You can’t store it in a fruit juice or a pill. Once you extract the juice from an orange, the vitamin quickly gives up all its goodness. The fresher food is the more nutritious (vitamin rich) it is.
When you read the ingredients on a pack of multivitamins there’s a lot of chemical combinations. I’m not sure how they translate that stuff into vitamins, but I’m sure it makes sense in the fineprint somewhere.
To illustrate my lack of faith in multivitamins, consider this case. You only consume pills. Your diet consists only of multivitamins. Can you ingest fibre, a vital part of our diets that is becoming increasingly absent? Not a chance. Can you store that vital living spirit – it’s the stuff you can taste and sense when you eat anything fresh? Well, there is a contradiction in terms. As soon as you store something, it’s no longer fresh, and no longer alive. If the object of the exercise is to be healthy, then the last thing you need to be consuming is something that is stale – like pills and medicines that live in the cold light of bathrooms day in and day out. No, much better to go out and find yourself fresh fruit and vegetables. I know we’re all pressed for time, but when it comes to health, there aren’t short cuts. Do the basics: eat right, get enough sleep, and exercise. There’s plenty of evidence to support that a balanced diet provides all the essential vitamins and minerals our bodies need.
Given pollution levels, mineral depletion in soils etc, this is no longer as easy as it once was. On the other hand, supermarkets present us with an easy abundance and variety to balance our diets. When buying vegetables, think color. Buy green (broccolis, spinach, peas and peppers), yellow (gem squashes), orange (carrots and pumpkins), reds (tomatoes and peppers) and occasionally go purple (beetroots, black olives etc). Preservatives, though, seem to find their way into everything we eat. The amount of preservatives in a food is a measure of the intention to store it and how little nourishment (and vitamins) it will contain as a result of that period. But by following these 3 guidelines, we can get the most out of what we eat:
1) Eat local produce (especially from your own garden). Imported anything will have lost lots of its nutritional value while sitting in harbors and containers. I ate canned mussels last night, not very nice, and then realized they were Made In China. No wonder. In terms of fruit, eat fruits in season (this once again suggests local is best).
2) Insure that the majority of what’s on your plate is plant matter, and no more than a quarter is meat. Remember, meat tissues trap the toxins that begin to accumulate both in water and in plants. Meat also provides poor quality energy (given the energy required for digestion). Eating more plant matter and less greasy, meaty foods insures that food is high in fibre. Includes olives, nuts, fruits (as opposed to fruit juice) and fibre rich vegetables like potatoes and carrots.
3) When buying vegetables, unless grown in your own garden or very nearby, buy frozen vegetables. Frozen vegetables have their precious freshness preserved for longer, whereas unfrozen vegetables quickly rot and spoil and lose their nutritional value whilst sitting on shelves in busy supermarkets.
The way meals are prepared is also important. Cooking of any kind tends to kill both germs and nutrients. Boiling vegetables should be avoided. Microwave as lightly as possible, with as little water as you can get away with. The best way to cook is with steam. You can use honey or chutney instead of water, and the watery sauce that remains in the pot often makes an excellent sauce.
Multivitamins do work in very specific and limited cases (calcium and vitamin D reduce the risk of bone fractures). Of course if you’re running around in the sun and eating a healthy diet (not drinking too many soft drinks – they damage our bodies ability to maintain calcium) you’ll be fine.
When you think about it, it makes sense. Nature’s first green is gold. It’s all we need
by Nick van der Leek
If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll have noticed all the commercials on television advertising multivitamins. One brags that it can fit the equivalent of 8 oranges (more or less) into a single tablet – in terms of vitamin C. Oh really?
While it is popularly believed (as a sort of conventional wisdom) that multivitamins work, there is very little evidence to support this. My theory is that it is a kind of wish fulfillment. Sure, we’d like to be healthy, and we’d like to believe tablets will protect us. We’d also like to believe that they are loaded with very special nutrients. But you know, you cannot store vitamin C. It’s a special ingredient, and it is bound to the life of plant tissues. You can’t store it in a fruit juice or a pill. Once you extract the juice from an orange, the vitamin quickly gives up all its goodness. The fresher food is the more nutritious (vitamin rich) it is.
When you read the ingredients on a pack of multivitamins there’s a lot of chemical combinations. I’m not sure how they translate that stuff into vitamins, but I’m sure it makes sense in the fineprint somewhere.
To illustrate my lack of faith in multivitamins, consider this case. You only consume pills. Your diet consists only of multivitamins. Can you ingest fibre, a vital part of our diets that is becoming increasingly absent? Not a chance. Can you store that vital living spirit – it’s the stuff you can taste and sense when you eat anything fresh? Well, there is a contradiction in terms. As soon as you store something, it’s no longer fresh, and no longer alive. If the object of the exercise is to be healthy, then the last thing you need to be consuming is something that is stale – like pills and medicines that live in the cold light of bathrooms day in and day out. No, much better to go out and find yourself fresh fruit and vegetables. I know we’re all pressed for time, but when it comes to health, there aren’t short cuts. Do the basics: eat right, get enough sleep, and exercise. There’s plenty of evidence to support that a balanced diet provides all the essential vitamins and minerals our bodies need.
Given pollution levels, mineral depletion in soils etc, this is no longer as easy as it once was. On the other hand, supermarkets present us with an easy abundance and variety to balance our diets. When buying vegetables, think color. Buy green (broccolis, spinach, peas and peppers), yellow (gem squashes), orange (carrots and pumpkins), reds (tomatoes and peppers) and occasionally go purple (beetroots, black olives etc). Preservatives, though, seem to find their way into everything we eat. The amount of preservatives in a food is a measure of the intention to store it and how little nourishment (and vitamins) it will contain as a result of that period. But by following these 3 guidelines, we can get the most out of what we eat:
1) Eat local produce (especially from your own garden). Imported anything will have lost lots of its nutritional value while sitting in harbors and containers. I ate canned mussels last night, not very nice, and then realized they were Made In China. No wonder. In terms of fruit, eat fruits in season (this once again suggests local is best).
2) Insure that the majority of what’s on your plate is plant matter, and no more than a quarter is meat. Remember, meat tissues trap the toxins that begin to accumulate both in water and in plants. Meat also provides poor quality energy (given the energy required for digestion). Eating more plant matter and less greasy, meaty foods insures that food is high in fibre. Includes olives, nuts, fruits (as opposed to fruit juice) and fibre rich vegetables like potatoes and carrots.
3) When buying vegetables, unless grown in your own garden or very nearby, buy frozen vegetables. Frozen vegetables have their precious freshness preserved for longer, whereas unfrozen vegetables quickly rot and spoil and lose their nutritional value whilst sitting on shelves in busy supermarkets.
The way meals are prepared is also important. Cooking of any kind tends to kill both germs and nutrients. Boiling vegetables should be avoided. Microwave as lightly as possible, with as little water as you can get away with. The best way to cook is with steam. You can use honey or chutney instead of water, and the watery sauce that remains in the pot often makes an excellent sauce.
Multivitamins do work in very specific and limited cases (calcium and vitamin D reduce the risk of bone fractures). Of course if you’re running around in the sun and eating a healthy diet (not drinking too many soft drinks – they damage our bodies ability to maintain calcium) you’ll be fine.
When you think about it, it makes sense. Nature’s first green is gold. It’s all we need
Monday, May 29, 2006
Windbreaker
Even last night, I was dreading today’s ride. Just from constant lack of sleep, rushing around, and obviously, never getting around to training. Any way you look at it, 120km was going to be a stretch today. I got home close to midnight, and without having supper. Thus the stage was already set for a more-difficult-than-it-needed-to-be-day.
When I woke up I did so reluctantly, and clung to the warmth of my bed for 5 more minutes, then another 5minutes, and then another 5. I got to the start on time and watched the lady write 100km then scratch it out and write 120km. I’d also called Berendine to confirm when and how far and she’d said 9am, 120km.
Just before the start they did a kind of roll call and gave phone numbers and other time-consuming details. And I was asked to remove my Zipp top since I don’t have team colors. So I just cycled in black polar tech, and black bib suit.
When we started I felt quite good, but as we went along I said to myself:
“Nick, I don’t want you in the wind. I don’t want you working in front. You haven’t been training so you need to hold back a lot.” It really wasn’t long after this, less than 2 minutes, that I found myself bridging a gap to a leading pack of 3, scorching my heartrate up to the day’s high of 176. The 3 guys I caught weren’t playing games, and although I immediately took a turn to work, it was a mistake because my heart rate was still way too high and we were heading for another major hill. So I let them go, thinking at least I was ahead of the pack and so could take this hill fairly easy while they caught up to me.
Except as they approached they jumped. Hard. So I fell back, but then slotted in with the same pack I worked with in Fauriesmith, including the Bionics girl and the guy I narrowly beat out in the sprint. So I thought it wasn’t a bad result, and my move had got the leading guys into a pattern of hard work early. We could settle in a rhythm and reel them in like we did last time.
I don’t know if it was lack of sleep, or irritation, but I rode progressively less intelligently. I rode a lot in the front 3; I felt strong on the climbs, and then wanted to get rid of the pack behind me who kept parasiting off my work, the Bionics girl’s efforts and an OFM rider’s exertions. I did at least 3 or 4 more leaps ahead (wasting energy) and they reeled me in each time.
Meanwhile we passed the 30km mark (and 60km turn around point), the 40km mark (and 80km turn around point) and of course we went by each of these. I did another hard push at about 48km and then found myself dying a bit as we got to 50km. I wasn’t eating enough, and now it was weakening me. Got quite a shock when I saw my entire pack turn, and when I went by, the flag guy didn’t call me back. When I got to the top of the hill I saw no one behind me or ahead of me, but did see more orange beacons further down the road. So I rode on and on, without seeing a single cyclist, and then didn’t know whether to turn into Dewetsdorp (at 56km) or keep going. But I did figure something was wrong. I stayed on the main road, then turned at 60km (on my Polar – there was nothing on the road), and then cycled through Dewetsdorp, partly to confirm that there was (was not as it turned out) a turnaround point, partly out of idle curiosity – wanted to see what the town looked like instead of cycling the same boring piece again.
Now I was cycling into a merciless headwind, and to make matters worse, my tank was empty. I just felt really tired – not in my legs, but in my body. In terms of energy.
It was a long, hard climb against the wind to just get back to the 50km turn around point, and from there I just felt really defeated and pissed off. Here I am at the most important race of the year and it’s a bugger up. And while I led my group for 80% or more of the 50km, it was that last 1km stretch where I fell back a bit, and because I was behind at that point there was no one to tell me to turn.
I also reached the startling realization that my dizziness was due to missing dinner last night, and eating very little else for most of the day.
By about 90km I pulled off the side of the road, and lay on a white cement slab picnic table, on my back, staring up at the gray, skeletal fingers of a dead trees, poking into the heartbreak-blue sky, its slim fingers tipped with delicate strips of yellow sunlight.
No water. Nothing to drink.
I fought across the next 20km and with 3km to go, a white car pitched up, turned and followed a modest distance behind me. Was quite pissed off. Just wanted to finish, get in my car and get a pizza. Didn’t want to talk to anyone.
With 1km to go I took my feet out of my shoes and then wound down.
Crossed the line in front of one car and then wheeled around to find out what the hell happened.
I saw her scribbling down my time so I said, “I’m not sure if there’s any point in doing that.”
“They changed the distances,” Lynn said. “You were supposed to cycle 100km.”
“So why were there cones at 55km?” I asked.
“We put those out yesterday.”
Then Lynn said, “I’m just going to put you down as DNF – did not finish.”
“No, I did finish. Put me down as ‘Cycled 120km’.
I don’t think she will because then it indicates they allowed a rider to do what I did. It doesn’t look good because it isn’t good.
Then I saw the silver Yaris – the only car in the parking lot, and a hopeful vulture waiting not far from it. Got in, turned on the CD player, clicked to track 6 (Let it go), and cruised out of there.
In the car I made a few calls – Fransa was sleeping and Justus was doing a photo shoot, and San Marie was shopping – but Elzanne was with her mom at Panarotti’s. I asked her to order one for me then joined them a few minutes later. Elzanne’s mom is quite hot. And also a teacher at Eunice. At first I thought she was Elzanne’s older sister or something. Had a nice chat.
The pizza and company put me on a bit of a better track. Although Elzanne said I looked ‘very angry’. I said I’m not angry, just disappointed and unhappy with the morning. Also a bit disturbed that only San Marie called me to find out how it went. I mean, my car was the last car in the lot. Surely someone must have clicked that something went wrong?
Went home, had a bath and got a bit of sleep, and then Fransa came over. We both had a bit of an attitude to each other but then we made up and had a nice night together.
I don’t think I want to go to SA’s now. My spirit is a bit broken. I am still keen on doing the time trial, but haven’t solved getting there and am not sure if it worth the expense of renting a car or flying. Maybe it is. Will think about it this week. At least I got in a tough, hard core training session today. Certainly, of all the riders there today, I had the hardest day on the bike.
Distance: 121.2km
Time: 4:25
Calories: 4375
HR avg: 147 (max 176)
Avg speed: 27.4km/h
Ascent: 755m
When I woke up I did so reluctantly, and clung to the warmth of my bed for 5 more minutes, then another 5minutes, and then another 5. I got to the start on time and watched the lady write 100km then scratch it out and write 120km. I’d also called Berendine to confirm when and how far and she’d said 9am, 120km.
Just before the start they did a kind of roll call and gave phone numbers and other time-consuming details. And I was asked to remove my Zipp top since I don’t have team colors. So I just cycled in black polar tech, and black bib suit.
When we started I felt quite good, but as we went along I said to myself:
“Nick, I don’t want you in the wind. I don’t want you working in front. You haven’t been training so you need to hold back a lot.” It really wasn’t long after this, less than 2 minutes, that I found myself bridging a gap to a leading pack of 3, scorching my heartrate up to the day’s high of 176. The 3 guys I caught weren’t playing games, and although I immediately took a turn to work, it was a mistake because my heart rate was still way too high and we were heading for another major hill. So I let them go, thinking at least I was ahead of the pack and so could take this hill fairly easy while they caught up to me.
Except as they approached they jumped. Hard. So I fell back, but then slotted in with the same pack I worked with in Fauriesmith, including the Bionics girl and the guy I narrowly beat out in the sprint. So I thought it wasn’t a bad result, and my move had got the leading guys into a pattern of hard work early. We could settle in a rhythm and reel them in like we did last time.
I don’t know if it was lack of sleep, or irritation, but I rode progressively less intelligently. I rode a lot in the front 3; I felt strong on the climbs, and then wanted to get rid of the pack behind me who kept parasiting off my work, the Bionics girl’s efforts and an OFM rider’s exertions. I did at least 3 or 4 more leaps ahead (wasting energy) and they reeled me in each time.
Meanwhile we passed the 30km mark (and 60km turn around point), the 40km mark (and 80km turn around point) and of course we went by each of these. I did another hard push at about 48km and then found myself dying a bit as we got to 50km. I wasn’t eating enough, and now it was weakening me. Got quite a shock when I saw my entire pack turn, and when I went by, the flag guy didn’t call me back. When I got to the top of the hill I saw no one behind me or ahead of me, but did see more orange beacons further down the road. So I rode on and on, without seeing a single cyclist, and then didn’t know whether to turn into Dewetsdorp (at 56km) or keep going. But I did figure something was wrong. I stayed on the main road, then turned at 60km (on my Polar – there was nothing on the road), and then cycled through Dewetsdorp, partly to confirm that there was (was not as it turned out) a turnaround point, partly out of idle curiosity – wanted to see what the town looked like instead of cycling the same boring piece again.
Now I was cycling into a merciless headwind, and to make matters worse, my tank was empty. I just felt really tired – not in my legs, but in my body. In terms of energy.
It was a long, hard climb against the wind to just get back to the 50km turn around point, and from there I just felt really defeated and pissed off. Here I am at the most important race of the year and it’s a bugger up. And while I led my group for 80% or more of the 50km, it was that last 1km stretch where I fell back a bit, and because I was behind at that point there was no one to tell me to turn.
I also reached the startling realization that my dizziness was due to missing dinner last night, and eating very little else for most of the day.
By about 90km I pulled off the side of the road, and lay on a white cement slab picnic table, on my back, staring up at the gray, skeletal fingers of a dead trees, poking into the heartbreak-blue sky, its slim fingers tipped with delicate strips of yellow sunlight.
No water. Nothing to drink.
I fought across the next 20km and with 3km to go, a white car pitched up, turned and followed a modest distance behind me. Was quite pissed off. Just wanted to finish, get in my car and get a pizza. Didn’t want to talk to anyone.
With 1km to go I took my feet out of my shoes and then wound down.
Crossed the line in front of one car and then wheeled around to find out what the hell happened.
I saw her scribbling down my time so I said, “I’m not sure if there’s any point in doing that.”
“They changed the distances,” Lynn said. “You were supposed to cycle 100km.”
“So why were there cones at 55km?” I asked.
“We put those out yesterday.”
Then Lynn said, “I’m just going to put you down as DNF – did not finish.”
“No, I did finish. Put me down as ‘Cycled 120km’.
I don’t think she will because then it indicates they allowed a rider to do what I did. It doesn’t look good because it isn’t good.
Then I saw the silver Yaris – the only car in the parking lot, and a hopeful vulture waiting not far from it. Got in, turned on the CD player, clicked to track 6 (Let it go), and cruised out of there.
In the car I made a few calls – Fransa was sleeping and Justus was doing a photo shoot, and San Marie was shopping – but Elzanne was with her mom at Panarotti’s. I asked her to order one for me then joined them a few minutes later. Elzanne’s mom is quite hot. And also a teacher at Eunice. At first I thought she was Elzanne’s older sister or something. Had a nice chat.
The pizza and company put me on a bit of a better track. Although Elzanne said I looked ‘very angry’. I said I’m not angry, just disappointed and unhappy with the morning. Also a bit disturbed that only San Marie called me to find out how it went. I mean, my car was the last car in the lot. Surely someone must have clicked that something went wrong?
Went home, had a bath and got a bit of sleep, and then Fransa came over. We both had a bit of an attitude to each other but then we made up and had a nice night together.
I don’t think I want to go to SA’s now. My spirit is a bit broken. I am still keen on doing the time trial, but haven’t solved getting there and am not sure if it worth the expense of renting a car or flying. Maybe it is. Will think about it this week. At least I got in a tough, hard core training session today. Certainly, of all the riders there today, I had the hardest day on the bike.
Distance: 121.2km
Time: 4:25
Calories: 4375
HR avg: 147 (max 176)
Avg speed: 27.4km/h
Ascent: 755m
Jerky, but reloading
I suffered from a rare and unexpected case of writer’s block when I first attempted to write this. I typed the title ‘Jerky’ and then tried to access an opening statement that had come to me earlier. I couldn’t find it, and there was nothing to take its place. So after 30 seconds I moved on and wrote ‘Windbreaker’.
In hindsight, it’s a good thing I didn’t immediately respond to the events of Friday night (boy that has an almost ominous ring to it). Had I done so I think it would have been a pathetic and wretched riposte.
First, here’s Friday. Not sure why, but leading up to Friday night I really wasn’t looking forward to it. I couldn’t actually see myself with the whole fietstoer bunch, perhaps because of the way I disconnected myself from them – leaving Nelspruit (in the dead of the early morning, in a hired white car). Or just because I no longer enjoy crowds of people, noise and chatter.
I got a few late orders for DVD’s and worked on those till late, only arriving at the thing after 7pm. When I saw that they were using a notebook to play the DVD I was immediately concerned. I had heard of some reports that some DVD’s were getting ‘stuck’ in parts, and if there’s anything that is going to be sensitive to defects it’s a notebook. On the other hand, I found it hard to believe that there was anything wrong with the DVD. Works fine on my computer…
Arriving at the church, the first people I saw were Nadia (with longer hair), Muller, Chrisna and Bianca.
Chrisna showed me to the auditorium. This is where I’d show the DVD. Madelein and Lizaan were there, sitting in the front row. Wow! When you’re used to seeing them in funny cycling clothes and with disheveled hair, I was pretty bowled over seeing how beautiful both looked. What a transformation. After putting my tongue back in my mouth, I started getting organized. PJ and Porter made an appearance. I soon felt glad to be among them – they are after all, by and large, a nice bunch of young and young at heart people.
I sold a few DVD’s while more and more people trickled into the room. For some reason the notebook we were using could play the DVD but it wouldn’t throw it onto the screen. Yes, you could see it playing on the screen, but it wouldn’t represent that (through the slide projector). Crazy. Technology meant to make our lives easier sometimes generate far more complicated problems.
Skip to the chase: we used Frans’ notebook and it worked. The first 1h40 minutes went by without a hitch. (The movie is only 1h45 long). I got quite a warm feeling in parts – because there was a lot of reaction to the content. Not sure what I expected, I guess I expected a more muted but interested response. But there was a lot of laughter and wisecracks and appreciation. Then, just as Francois cycled by the camera it froze. The footage got stuck. This is just before the grand finale, and the closing credits. The kick. It got stuck just before the soppy stuff, then it stuttered along, and Lee got up and tried to sort it out. Then I got up and it hobbled along, getting increasingly crippled, freezing more and more. From then on it appeared to get worse. I felt like I had to admit: “The product is defective.”
Chrisna shouted out about 10 times: “KOOP DIE DVD…”
Got quite annoying, especially since she probably appears in it more than anyone else.
The flip side emerged today – Sunday. Seems like the DVD works fine on the most recent DVD players (and Sony Playstation 2). I think because it is a very dense amount of information (over 3GB), some computers might struggle a bit to keep up, especially notebooks.
Yvonne also made an interesting comment. She said, “How come you concentrated so much on certain people, but less on others…” I asked who I’d concentrated on, and she said, “Chrisna, yourself, Christie…”
Not sure how I could concentrate on myself, especially when using the video camera…but I said I tried to give all 60 people a bit of exposure, and then reminded her that at Amsterdam, with the camera on her, she’d said: “Ek haat cameras. Nee, ek haat nie kameras, ek haat dit net om op een te wees.”
So one has to be careful to hang yourself up on a tree based on the criticisms of others.
Today I was on the verge of doing a recall, and recopying all of them, using Ginette’s software. But having spoken to Lizaan, Petru and others, I don’t think that’s going to be necessary. If I am guilty of anything it’s being too hard on myself and not giving myself the credit…even when the movie gets cut off before the credits.
The next project is SA Cycling Champs and Irawa. Now to load my cameras again…
In hindsight, it’s a good thing I didn’t immediately respond to the events of Friday night (boy that has an almost ominous ring to it). Had I done so I think it would have been a pathetic and wretched riposte.
First, here’s Friday. Not sure why, but leading up to Friday night I really wasn’t looking forward to it. I couldn’t actually see myself with the whole fietstoer bunch, perhaps because of the way I disconnected myself from them – leaving Nelspruit (in the dead of the early morning, in a hired white car). Or just because I no longer enjoy crowds of people, noise and chatter.
I got a few late orders for DVD’s and worked on those till late, only arriving at the thing after 7pm. When I saw that they were using a notebook to play the DVD I was immediately concerned. I had heard of some reports that some DVD’s were getting ‘stuck’ in parts, and if there’s anything that is going to be sensitive to defects it’s a notebook. On the other hand, I found it hard to believe that there was anything wrong with the DVD. Works fine on my computer…
Arriving at the church, the first people I saw were Nadia (with longer hair), Muller, Chrisna and Bianca.
Chrisna showed me to the auditorium. This is where I’d show the DVD. Madelein and Lizaan were there, sitting in the front row. Wow! When you’re used to seeing them in funny cycling clothes and with disheveled hair, I was pretty bowled over seeing how beautiful both looked. What a transformation. After putting my tongue back in my mouth, I started getting organized. PJ and Porter made an appearance. I soon felt glad to be among them – they are after all, by and large, a nice bunch of young and young at heart people.
I sold a few DVD’s while more and more people trickled into the room. For some reason the notebook we were using could play the DVD but it wouldn’t throw it onto the screen. Yes, you could see it playing on the screen, but it wouldn’t represent that (through the slide projector). Crazy. Technology meant to make our lives easier sometimes generate far more complicated problems.
Skip to the chase: we used Frans’ notebook and it worked. The first 1h40 minutes went by without a hitch. (The movie is only 1h45 long). I got quite a warm feeling in parts – because there was a lot of reaction to the content. Not sure what I expected, I guess I expected a more muted but interested response. But there was a lot of laughter and wisecracks and appreciation. Then, just as Francois cycled by the camera it froze. The footage got stuck. This is just before the grand finale, and the closing credits. The kick. It got stuck just before the soppy stuff, then it stuttered along, and Lee got up and tried to sort it out. Then I got up and it hobbled along, getting increasingly crippled, freezing more and more. From then on it appeared to get worse. I felt like I had to admit: “The product is defective.”
Chrisna shouted out about 10 times: “KOOP DIE DVD…”
Got quite annoying, especially since she probably appears in it more than anyone else.
The flip side emerged today – Sunday. Seems like the DVD works fine on the most recent DVD players (and Sony Playstation 2). I think because it is a very dense amount of information (over 3GB), some computers might struggle a bit to keep up, especially notebooks.
Yvonne also made an interesting comment. She said, “How come you concentrated so much on certain people, but less on others…” I asked who I’d concentrated on, and she said, “Chrisna, yourself, Christie…”
Not sure how I could concentrate on myself, especially when using the video camera…but I said I tried to give all 60 people a bit of exposure, and then reminded her that at Amsterdam, with the camera on her, she’d said: “Ek haat cameras. Nee, ek haat nie kameras, ek haat dit net om op een te wees.”
So one has to be careful to hang yourself up on a tree based on the criticisms of others.
Today I was on the verge of doing a recall, and recopying all of them, using Ginette’s software. But having spoken to Lizaan, Petru and others, I don’t think that’s going to be necessary. If I am guilty of anything it’s being too hard on myself and not giving myself the credit…even when the movie gets cut off before the credits.
The next project is SA Cycling Champs and Irawa. Now to load my cameras again…
Analyze This
The secret to being normal
by Nick van der Leek
How much sex is normal? How thin is thin enough? How fit, or sexy, or strong, or brave, is normal?
The latest X-Men movie – The Last Stand, is eXcellent. Barry Ronge’s review in the latest Sunday Times Magazine hits the nail on the head: The movie is about whether we ought to be normal or not. And if we are normal, do we wish we weren’t? It’s a strange film, because there’s no super arch enemy. It’s really just about this psychology: if you’re different, do you try to fit in? If you’re special do you fear it or do you find a way to live with it, to celebrate being special?
Not so fast with your answer there. I went to a school – and a school of thought – where sticking out was pretty dangerous. If you pulled it off, sure, you got the reward. But you had to be careful how you stood out. And what you stood for. Because if you stood out for the ‘wrong’ reasons, you got punished for it. I stuck out a lot. It was based mostly – I believe – on the most incidental of things: appearances. It was also based on attitude. But not all of it was on purpose. I wore external braces, and that aspect certainly was accidental. Like Rogue, in X-Men, I would gladly have given up something, something precious even, to get rid of the braces. It wasn’t that I wanted to fit in; I just didn’t want to stick out. Sometimes when you stick out you become target practice.
But that’s not the full story. Sometimes you want to be noticed for the right reasons, instead of because you’ve got funny teeth and wires poking around your face. Recently I went on a cycling tour with 60 people, mostly students, more or less half guys, and the other half girls. In 12 days you become very aware of the social dynamic that develops. Some people start to group with certain other people. Some people just hang with the people they knew coming into the experience. Some grow more confident. Some start off confident and then become less certain of themselves.
At the end of the tour they choose the person with the best legs, they vote for the person who would make the best husband or wife, and there are a few other nominations. They also vote for the ‘Shocker’, the person who does some of the craziest stuff.
I won an award (I won’t say what for), and I was glad I did. I felt a strong sense of wanting to be acknowledged for something. I wouldn’t have minded the Best Legs vote. As I say, I was glad I got an award, not in an attention seeking way, but in a way that simply shows that you have made an impression, that people notice and respond to you, that you are not invisible, ordinary, or boring.
There are people who go to extremes to make sure they are none of those things. Sometimes they are drama queens or overly aggressive thugs. Sometimes they are all bluster. It’s also the reason there are 12 banned South African athletes (all using the same steroid), the reason make up and plastic surgery exists. People want to be special, and they’ll take risks to make sure they’re successful.
As Ronge says: when people complain that others around them aren’t ‘normal’, it’s really just racism, ageism, sexism or some or other kind of intolerance. In reality, there is no normal. We are all different, and those differences make us unique, and special. Of course, some are more special than others. Not all (perhaps no one else) can win the Tour de France 7 times. Not many of us will celebrate 50 year wedding anniversaries. We’re not all morning people. Not all of us can be artists, or athletes. Why, because we’re all different.
The great truth is that all of us can be we who we are. More important than how special or not we are, is how much we accept ourselves. Once we can do that, we can start accepting those around us, and enjoying the best we have to offer each other. The secret to being normal is that none of us are normal. We’re all special.
by Nick van der Leek
How much sex is normal? How thin is thin enough? How fit, or sexy, or strong, or brave, is normal?
The latest X-Men movie – The Last Stand, is eXcellent. Barry Ronge’s review in the latest Sunday Times Magazine hits the nail on the head: The movie is about whether we ought to be normal or not. And if we are normal, do we wish we weren’t? It’s a strange film, because there’s no super arch enemy. It’s really just about this psychology: if you’re different, do you try to fit in? If you’re special do you fear it or do you find a way to live with it, to celebrate being special?
Not so fast with your answer there. I went to a school – and a school of thought – where sticking out was pretty dangerous. If you pulled it off, sure, you got the reward. But you had to be careful how you stood out. And what you stood for. Because if you stood out for the ‘wrong’ reasons, you got punished for it. I stuck out a lot. It was based mostly – I believe – on the most incidental of things: appearances. It was also based on attitude. But not all of it was on purpose. I wore external braces, and that aspect certainly was accidental. Like Rogue, in X-Men, I would gladly have given up something, something precious even, to get rid of the braces. It wasn’t that I wanted to fit in; I just didn’t want to stick out. Sometimes when you stick out you become target practice.
But that’s not the full story. Sometimes you want to be noticed for the right reasons, instead of because you’ve got funny teeth and wires poking around your face. Recently I went on a cycling tour with 60 people, mostly students, more or less half guys, and the other half girls. In 12 days you become very aware of the social dynamic that develops. Some people start to group with certain other people. Some people just hang with the people they knew coming into the experience. Some grow more confident. Some start off confident and then become less certain of themselves.
At the end of the tour they choose the person with the best legs, they vote for the person who would make the best husband or wife, and there are a few other nominations. They also vote for the ‘Shocker’, the person who does some of the craziest stuff.
I won an award (I won’t say what for), and I was glad I did. I felt a strong sense of wanting to be acknowledged for something. I wouldn’t have minded the Best Legs vote. As I say, I was glad I got an award, not in an attention seeking way, but in a way that simply shows that you have made an impression, that people notice and respond to you, that you are not invisible, ordinary, or boring.
There are people who go to extremes to make sure they are none of those things. Sometimes they are drama queens or overly aggressive thugs. Sometimes they are all bluster. It’s also the reason there are 12 banned South African athletes (all using the same steroid), the reason make up and plastic surgery exists. People want to be special, and they’ll take risks to make sure they’re successful.
As Ronge says: when people complain that others around them aren’t ‘normal’, it’s really just racism, ageism, sexism or some or other kind of intolerance. In reality, there is no normal. We are all different, and those differences make us unique, and special. Of course, some are more special than others. Not all (perhaps no one else) can win the Tour de France 7 times. Not many of us will celebrate 50 year wedding anniversaries. We’re not all morning people. Not all of us can be artists, or athletes. Why, because we’re all different.
The great truth is that all of us can be we who we are. More important than how special or not we are, is how much we accept ourselves. Once we can do that, we can start accepting those around us, and enjoying the best we have to offer each other. The secret to being normal is that none of us are normal. We’re all special.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Principal's Birthday
I got very little sleep. Drove to Justus after 10pm to give him a U2 CD, and then had a cozy coffee with a beautiful gray cat sitting on Mica's lap, the heater purring too...
Chatted about bird flu, parents, work, God etc.
Today is Mr Taylor's birthday. He made a sudden appearance at my class - the storm abated for about 2 seconds then went into full gale force noise once again. My ears are ringing. Am I going deaf?
Today the Blood Bank also sent staff to collect blood. About 30 kids volunteered. I got a few shots of that.
In my very last class they made such a racket that I said, they could only leave the class if they could all be quiet for 5 seconds. Couldn't do it. Started singing and mobbing the door. Then students started jumping out of the windows. Crazy!
I also spoke to a kid about AIDS. Says his father has died of AIDS, and that out of every 10 students, probably 4 have both their parents (alive), and 2 have lost both their parents. And he says its getting worse. Why, I asked. He says, people just carry on sleeping around. They can't stop. After the waiting-at-the-door scenario I am not suprised that absitnence (not doing/waiting) is not happening.
Susan smsd me that my average for EAL 312 is 86%. Not bad.
Got to go and eat stuff to celebrate the birthday party. Then cycling 20km with Berendine. Then the Reunion and hopefully sell a few DVD's.
Am loving driving the silver Yaris - more, probably, than I should... Have to give it up tomorrow after the race (120km) on the Dewetsdorp Road. Expect it to be tough as I haven't been able to train for the last few days.
Chatted about bird flu, parents, work, God etc.
Today is Mr Taylor's birthday. He made a sudden appearance at my class - the storm abated for about 2 seconds then went into full gale force noise once again. My ears are ringing. Am I going deaf?
Today the Blood Bank also sent staff to collect blood. About 30 kids volunteered. I got a few shots of that.
In my very last class they made such a racket that I said, they could only leave the class if they could all be quiet for 5 seconds. Couldn't do it. Started singing and mobbing the door. Then students started jumping out of the windows. Crazy!
I also spoke to a kid about AIDS. Says his father has died of AIDS, and that out of every 10 students, probably 4 have both their parents (alive), and 2 have lost both their parents. And he says its getting worse. Why, I asked. He says, people just carry on sleeping around. They can't stop. After the waiting-at-the-door scenario I am not suprised that absitnence (not doing/waiting) is not happening.
Susan smsd me that my average for EAL 312 is 86%. Not bad.
Got to go and eat stuff to celebrate the birthday party. Then cycling 20km with Berendine. Then the Reunion and hopefully sell a few DVD's.
Am loving driving the silver Yaris - more, probably, than I should... Have to give it up tomorrow after the race (120km) on the Dewetsdorp Road. Expect it to be tough as I haven't been able to train for the last few days.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Email from Prof of Microbiology
Hi
Just a quick response - did you watch CNN last night or this morning? There is concern that the first human to human case has happened in Indonesia!
I am going overseas on 12 June for about a month, so time is a bit tight. I will let you know next week how my program is looking. We can maybe arrange something then.
I am not working on an AI vaccine. I am working on a DNA vaccine for Beak and Feather disease virus in parrots which attacks the immune system of birds in a similar way that HIV attacks the human immune system.
They are, however, totally different viruses and not related to each other in any way.
See you.
Rob Bragg
Just a quick response - did you watch CNN last night or this morning? There is concern that the first human to human case has happened in Indonesia!
I am going overseas on 12 June for about a month, so time is a bit tight. I will let you know next week how my program is looking. We can maybe arrange something then.
I am not working on an AI vaccine. I am working on a DNA vaccine for Beak and Feather disease virus in parrots which attacks the immune system of birds in a similar way that HIV attacks the human immune system.
They are, however, totally different viruses and not related to each other in any way.
See you.
Rob Bragg
Hockey Tournament
My team won all three their matches, and so were rewarded with special silver Brebner medals. I got one a few days later in the staff room.
Am enjoying the hockey immensely (the team won their last match 1-0), but the teaching is a lot harder. Said the 'F' word a few times today in my grade 10 economics class. Lots of kids cheating in their tests, and often still won't shutup when writing tests. Stressful, but the bonus is that I have a few afternoons off to train (or mark tests when diligent).
How to get out of your money mess
Seven steps to follow on the path to financial security. Apply these steps and you will get out of the money mess you are in
1. All you have is what comes in
Acknowledge that all you have is your income. That’s it. Period. If what you spend is greater than your income, then you’ve just worked out the formula for disaster.
2. Strike a balance with a budgetYou have to track spending like a bulldog on the trail of biltong. That means a budget - a table with income in one column and spending in the other. And you need to constantly check how spending is doing against income. If you need some help with the mathematics of this, then ask for it. Partner with your spouse, or your colleague at work. Get the assistance of your teenage son or daughter in school; at the same time they will get valuable lessons in money management. Do whatever it takes - but strike a balance with a budget.
3. Debt is not spelt strangelyThe ’b’ in debt is a loud cry - beware! There’s only one cause of debt: spending is greater than income.
Borrowing is like knocking your head against a wall to cure a headache. Borrowing money costs - more money. For more money, read interest. If you can afford more money, then borrow. But if you can’t afford more money, delay your purchase, pay yourself the interest, and buy when you have cash. This is so logical that it makes many people suspicious.
Financial success won’t come from making wealthy strangers (that is, lenders of money) richer. Maybe these are not wealthy strangers. You know them. They advertise on television, on radio, in newspapers and in magazines. You can bank on a dozen of their messages coming at you every day. They are so visible that you think they are your friends. Their interest in you does not go beyond interest.
Have you recently been overwhelmed by aching shoulders? The credit industry is powered by debt. Some of that debt rests on your shoulders. The people who liberally ladle out credit take the interest, while you take the pain. Crazy, isn’t it?
4. Get your spending under controlThere are many ways to control this runaway train…
* Stop buying on credit. Stop giving money to strangers.
* A cellphone (or even landline) without a leash is a cash gobbler.
* A car has a huge appetite for rands. You can reduce its use by good planning. The key is in your hand.
* The cheapest place for a meal is at home. Eating out, or buying takeaways, is always more expensive. But hey - it’s okay to subsidise the catering industry; just don’t break your budget.
* Interrogate every purchase - do you really need this? If the answer is yes, then buy the best you can within your budget.
5. Ignore those outside your equationOften - and sometimes unconsciously - our spending goes thought the roof because we want to impress others. Hold it! Others don’t know what your income is; they can only see your spending. Train yourself to ignore them. Tune them out of your "spending equals income" equation.
You know your income like no one else. The peace that comes from living within your income is priceless. And the solution is to ignore those who can only see your spending.
6. You are as wealthy as the amount you saveIf you work and never save a rand, you will forever work for your money. (Oops - you can’t work forever; there’s always retirement.) When you start saving, you put money to work for you. And that means that once you have accumulated a fair amount, you could ease up on working.
You are not as wealthy as your salary; your salary is the means to achieve wealth. You are not as wealthy as the amount you spend, but ah, it sure makes a great impression. You are as wealthy as the amount you save. So - just how wealthy are you?
7. Help someone - it’s not all about having moneyWe all know someone who can use help. It may be in managing money - meaning sharing these seven steps - or by giving money away. Be as generous as your budget allows. It will keep things in perspective. It will make you smile when you look in the mirror. Money can buy happiness. Moreover, seeds of generosity sowed today will reap a harvest of kindness later.
Take another look at these seven steps. They are not steps at all. They are processes. You may take five minutes to read them, but they will take much longer to possess you.
Copy this article and stick it up on your fridge. Once you become possessed, you’ve built the foundation. You’ve got the madness out of money. Only after that, can you start building in the magic.
And then you’ll realise that a miracle has occurred: as you take the madness out of money, quite unknowingly you put the magic in.
H5N1: "We Must take it seriously"
Nick van der Leek speaks to Scientific Director of Retroscreen Virology, Professor John Oxford
I'm underground. Actually I'm in an underground art gallery attached to Olievenhuis in Bloemfontein. I'm sitting at a table filled with pharmacists and doctors. And Professor John Oxford, an expert on the virology surrounding avian influenza is the guest speaker.
We're actually here to launch Tamiflu, so I am surprised that Oxford paints such a rich background. He hardly mentions Tamiflu, and the young woman beside me (a pharmacist) confirms that at these launches (and they attended a smiliar one last week) the experts try not to bore their audience.
Oxford talks about a pre-emptive strike. And Tamiflu is part of how we combat bird flu. If there is an outbreak, and less than 50 people in a given area are infected, and one has a deluge of Tamiflu, you can break the back of this pandemic.
The counterargument for all this preparation is: If there are only 100 people dead, what are we all so worried about.
Well, I ask Professor Oxford where we are, compared to 1918, in terms of the evolution of the virus, which killed upwards of 40 million over an 18 month period (250 000 in South Africa). He placed us at about 1915. I was very suprised to get a specific answer out of him, as I have interviewed and exposed myself to other experts who are less certain. In that snippet is the implicit prediction: 3 years.
I watched the topic of bird flu discussed on Oprah, and Oxford also alludes to both the Tsunami (his 17 year old daughter was wandering around on a beach in Sri Lanka at the time)and New Orleans and recent examples of tragedies that could have been avoided by early warning systems. There is some infrastructure in place, but not enough. "We must take it seriously," he says. After all, a pandemic will trump all the major disasters we have seen in the past, put together: war, famine, Aids, etc.
The question does emerge then: how can a little virus that has 8 genes pull us - people who have 100 000 genes - into bed and kill us? The experts who came up with Tamiflu have found a way to prevent the virus from budding - a vital stage where the virus gets stuck to the surface of cells, so that the drug aborts the infection, and the immunse system then kicks into action.
Tamiflu is being launched in Bloemfontein. That should give you some idea of how much intensity is going on behind the scenes. I ask Professor Oxford if he is aware of the reports of human to human transmissions in Indonesia (reported in the last day or so). He tells me he received a call today with that information.
He also says: "For the history of humankind we have been powerless (against this sort of thing), but now we are not."
Newsbytes:
WHO confirms 31st death in Indonesia and the sixth death in Egypt. The global death toll stands at 123.
By Maggie Fox, Health and Science Correspondent 
I'm underground. Actually I'm in an underground art gallery attached to Olievenhuis in Bloemfontein. I'm sitting at a table filled with pharmacists and doctors. And Professor John Oxford, an expert on the virology surrounding avian influenza is the guest speaker.
We're actually here to launch Tamiflu, so I am surprised that Oxford paints such a rich background. He hardly mentions Tamiflu, and the young woman beside me (a pharmacist) confirms that at these launches (and they attended a smiliar one last week) the experts try not to bore their audience.
Oxford talks about a pre-emptive strike. And Tamiflu is part of how we combat bird flu. If there is an outbreak, and less than 50 people in a given area are infected, and one has a deluge of Tamiflu, you can break the back of this pandemic.
The counterargument for all this preparation is: If there are only 100 people dead, what are we all so worried about.
Well, I ask Professor Oxford where we are, compared to 1918, in terms of the evolution of the virus, which killed upwards of 40 million over an 18 month period (250 000 in South Africa). He placed us at about 1915. I was very suprised to get a specific answer out of him, as I have interviewed and exposed myself to other experts who are less certain. In that snippet is the implicit prediction: 3 years.
I watched the topic of bird flu discussed on Oprah, and Oxford also alludes to both the Tsunami (his 17 year old daughter was wandering around on a beach in Sri Lanka at the time)and New Orleans and recent examples of tragedies that could have been avoided by early warning systems. There is some infrastructure in place, but not enough. "We must take it seriously," he says. After all, a pandemic will trump all the major disasters we have seen in the past, put together: war, famine, Aids, etc.
The question does emerge then: how can a little virus that has 8 genes pull us - people who have 100 000 genes - into bed and kill us? The experts who came up with Tamiflu have found a way to prevent the virus from budding - a vital stage where the virus gets stuck to the surface of cells, so that the drug aborts the infection, and the immunse system then kicks into action.
Tamiflu is being launched in Bloemfontein. That should give you some idea of how much intensity is going on behind the scenes. I ask Professor Oxford if he is aware of the reports of human to human transmissions in Indonesia (reported in the last day or so). He tells me he received a call today with that information.
He also says: "For the history of humankind we have been powerless (against this sort of thing), but now we are not."
Newsbytes:
WHO confirms 31st death in Indonesia and the sixth death in Egypt. The global death toll stands at 123.
Experts looking for bird flu spread watch for deaths
Wed May 24, 2006 3:26 PM ET
| (Page 1 of 2) |  |
WASHINGTON, May 24 (Reuters) - A suspicious-looking cluster of human bird flu cases in Indonesia illustrates just how difficult it will be to detect the beginning of a pandemic, should one occur, scientists said on Wednesday.
The World Health Organization issued assurances on Tusday that the virus had not changed into a clearly dangerous form, but experts said if it had changed, the information would have come much too late.
In fact, they said, the only way anyone will know that a dangerous form of the virus is circulating will be when people start to become sick and die in large numbers.
"We are not going to know it until a lot of people are infected," said Dr. Eric Toner, an expert in emergency medicine at the Center for Biosecurity at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center.
And the canaries in the mine will be people trying to cope with the outbreak.
"If it being transmitted efficiently, we would see health care workers being sick," Toner said.
High technology genetic sequencing may give some answers after the fact, but the only way to actually detect a beginning epidemic will be after it has already started, using old-fashioned epidemiology -- the study of a disease's impact on a population.
"We have to, because the genetics of the virus is going to come too late," said Dr. Arnold Monto, an expert in infectious disease epidemiology at the University of Michigan. It takes days or weeks to completely sequence the eight genes of a flu virus.
WHO hopes that countries will be able to quickly identify and isolate human cases of bird flu while investigators check to see how dangerous the strain is.
But the case in Indonesia shows this does not often happen in the real world.
"We are going to be making some crucial decisions based on very incomplete information and speed is of the essence here," said Michael Osterholm, an infectious diseases expert at the University of Minnesota.And nothing happened speedily in Indonesia. "The first cases were in late April," Osterholm said. WHO issued its first definitive statement on the situation on Tuesday -- nearly a month later.
Had efficient and sustained human transmission been underway, that would be time for many people to have been infected.
The H5N1 avian influenza virus is still almost exclusively a bird virus. It has killed or forced the culling of hundreds of million of birds as it has moved through Asia, across Europe and into many parts of Africa.
It only occasionally infects people -- 218 in 10 countries, killing 124 of them. But only a few genetic changes would allow the virus to easily infect people, and it would likely sweep around the world if this happened, killing millions.
Scientists fully expect the occasional human case of avian flu. But they become more concerned when they see a cluster, like the case of the seven family members in the northern part of Indonesia's Sumatra island.
So far everyone known to have been infected was either in close contact with an infected bird, or in very close contact with an infected person -- and in fact, with a blood relative, which suggests some people may be genetically susceptible to infection.
But in Indonesia it is not yet clear how the first victim in this cluster, a 37-year-old woman, became infected.
Scientists were reassured by the first genetic analysis of virus samples taken from some of the Indonesian patients, although no one is certain of all the genetic changes that would be needed to allow the virus to infect many people.
"We do know some of the things to look for -- we know some of the virulence elements," Monto said.
"But I think the proof in the pudding is watching what happens in the region."WHO: No urgent meeting on bird flu
Wednesday, May 24, 2006; Posted: 9:50 a.m. EDT (13:50 GMT)
The only remaining member of a family killed by bird flu is treated in Indonesia's Northern Sumatra province.
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Alternative Medicine | |
 | |
JAKARTA, Indonesia (Reuters) -- Limited human-to-human transmission of bird flu might have occurred in an Indonesian family and health experts are tracing anyone who might have had contact with them, the World Health Organisation said.
But a senior WHO official said in Jakarta this was not the first time the world was seeing a family cluster and said that fresh scientific evidence has shown the virus in Indonesia has not mutated to one that can spread easily among people.
WHO said on Wednesday it had no immediate plans to call a meeting of experts to discuss raising its global bird flu alert.
"Right now it does not look like the task force will need to meet immediately, but this is subject to change depending on what comes out of Indonesia," WHO spokeswoman Maria Cheng said, when asked to comment on press reports of an imminent meeting.
Financial markets, however, were spooked on fears the Indonesia cluster could be the start of a pandemic. Currencies in Asia, where most bird flu cases have occurred, fell. U.S. commodity prices came under pressure while European markets slipped as investors turned jittery.
Concern has been growing about the case in north Sumatra in which seven family members from Kubu Sembilang village died this month. The case is the largest family cluster known to date.
WHO and Indonesian health officials are baffled over the source of the infection but genetic sequencing has shown the H5N1 bird flu virus has not mutated, the U.N. agency said on its Web site (http://www.who.int) on Tuesday.
Nor was there sign of the virus spread among villagers.
"To date, the investigation has found no evidence of spread within the general community and no evidence that efficient human-to-human transmission has occurred," the WHO said.
Sick poultry have been the source of bird flu infection for most human cases worldwide. Pigs are susceptible to the virus.
Clusters are looked on with far more suspicion than isolated infections because they raise the possibility the virus might have mutated to transmit efficiently among humans.
That could spark a pandemic, killing millions of people.
The WHO statement came after one of the family members, a 32-year-old father, died on Monday after caring for his ailing son, who had died earlier. The agency said such close contact was considered a possible source of infection.
Closing in
But Firdosi Mehta, acting representative of the WHO in Indonesia, urged against any over-reaction, saying this was not the first cluster that the world has known.
Limited transmissions between people are caused by close and prolonged contact when the sick person is coughing and probably infectious. Experts in Kubu Sembilang were acting to contain any further spread.
"We are going wide, contacting the various contacts, putting on (anti-viral) Tamiflu whoever has had close contact, basically putting family members who have not been affected on Tamiflu as a precaution," Mehta told Reuters in an interview in Jakarta.
"There is active surveillance in the village, fever surveillance to look for any more cases that are occurring outside this immediate family cluster," he said.
But another WHO spokesman said the agency was worried.
"This is the most significant development so far in terms of public health," Peter Cordingley, spokesman for the West Pacific region of the WHO, said in the Philippine capital on Wednesday.
"We have never had a cluster as large as this. We have not had in the past what we have here, which is no explanation as to how these people became infected."
"We can't find sick animals in this community and that worries us," he added.
Bird flu has killed 124 people in 10 nations since it re-emerged in Asia in 2003. It is essentially a disease in birds and has spread to dozens of countries in wild birds and poultry.
In China, where the virus has been entrenched for the last 10 years, fresh trouble may be brewing as authorities confirmed an outbreak of the H5N1 among wild birds in its remote far-western Qinghai province and Tibet.
About 400 wild birds had been found dead "recently", its state Xinhua news agency said, quoting the Agriculture Ministry.
An outbreak of the H5N1 killed thousands of birds in Qinghai Lake this time last year and this strain of the virus has since turned up in parts of Europe, Africa and the Middle East.
Markets are also nervous about a suspected cluster in Iran.
An Iranian medical official told Reuters on Monday that a 41-year-old man and his 26-year-old sister from the northwestern city of Kermanshah had tested positive for bird flu.
But Health Minister Kamran Lankarani denied this although international health officials are still investigating.
The two siblings were among five members of a family who became sick and the other three remain in hospital.
Copyright 2006 Reuters. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Frost
When I opened my curtains this morning, the soccer fields in front of my windows were all white. Thought it was snow for a moment. It's been years, it seems, since I last saw frost. Iced lakes yes, snow yes, but not a frosted field. Nice.
Giving out my Informal Tests today (number 3 of 4), and must start marking the Formal Tests (1 of 2).
One of my lecturers also smsed me to say I got 87% for my EAL 312 test.
Giving out my Informal Tests today (number 3 of 4), and must start marking the Formal Tests (1 of 2).
One of my lecturers also smsed me to say I got 87% for my EAL 312 test.
The Tour: Day 3 (of 12)
…our reward for this physical commitment is a spiritual experience…
On Sunday I woke up to several bright white beams of light spooling into the hall, bright beams over mattresses and motionless, sometimes slightly moving sleeping bags. Next to me is Willie, someone whom I decide to call Peter Pan because he almost always wears bright blue tights (on his arms and legs) when on the bike. In response he calls me Superman – maybe because I have a Superman shirt, and maybe (I like to think, snigger) because I’m (super) strong on the bike. Well, I am. I am one of the strongest riders of this group.
I also meet Christie, reading on the lawn outside the hall. It’s unusual, to be reading, when so much is going on, so many people (whom one has not met) walking around, so I’m curious. I’ve immediately dumped my reading matter (a real diary, a project I am working on, writing about an epic Cairo to Cape Town epic for GQ magazine).
We (Christie and I) have an interesting conversation, and when I reflect on what was said now, well, it’s even more interesting out of the context of the tour.
Then there’s church, and to be honest, I am stressing. I haven’t been in church since Christmas eve in a South Korean Catholic church in 2003 and a Singapore church on Christmas day in 2004. I’m stressing because I am not a bullshitter. I’m not comfortable pretending to be someone I’m not, and while I’m a spiritual person, I have moved away from being purely Christian.
Somewhere in all the (well, to be accurate, it was me) fidgeting, and fretting, I found a way to find what was congruent with my belief system, the one I developed in my loneliness and aloneness, and this church styled group activity.
You have to understand that when you are on your own, in a foreign country, away from a community that knows you, you cannot stay at home and pray. You need to go out and learn how to operate in the country. You need to, in part, embrace, at least understand the culture and new language that you’re hoping to function in. And during this process, you realize that the world has gone on in places that operate (sometimes admirably so) on fundamentally different belief systems, like Confucianism, Buudhism, and Korean-style Christianity.
Let me explain that concept quickly here: Korean-style Christianity is Reverend Moon, Moon marriages (mass weddings), whole schools and business operated on “Christian” ethics, which is to say employees gladly give back 10% of their salaries as a Christian/Corporate tithe. And the more time spent at work, the more devoted/faithful an employee is seen to be.
Abortion is pretty acceptable (boys are preferred to girls), and cloning is seen as technologically advanced and boosts the National image. On the other hand, there is incredible sensitivity to mass media stuff like Da Vinci code (for its ability to manipulate Christians, proving an opportunity for them to second guess their programming).
In this environment its hardly surprising that Korea has the world’s second highest divorce rate. Not because they are as liberal as the Americans, but because they are so conservative that especially wives find themselves feeling strangled and suffocated in marriage.
These thoughts and others pass through while I sat in church. Perhaps my bald 34 year old head adds to my discomfort – because the congregation are looking at students, and who is this bald guy sitting between them?
And then I concentrate, in parts, on the very, very long sermon. Now in this sermon we read Mathew 26, verse 31. It’s about suffering. And I realize this:
Everything we experience on the Tour (and in life) – the sunburn, the hunger, thirst, cramps, lack of sleep, pain and stiffness – what it really does is it distracts us from useless thinking. And our reward for this physical commitment is a spiritual experience or at the very least, some kind of revelation about ourselves, and ourselves in the world.
Outside the sun shines brightly at me, as though the sky had just been washed clean. And in this light, and under the rocketing gold sandstone pillars of the church, all 70-something of us pose for photos.
Then it’s the packing mattresses and bikes. Louis throws himself off a small wall and onto a high pile of mattresses. I ask him to do it again and get a nice shot…
Then we get into the bus – a machine that consumes more oil than petrol – and head towards Clarens, the same busy little backwoods place tucked between sandstone cliffs where I spent a top 3 2005/2006 New Years.
In Clarens some of us play touch rugby, another group of 6 (including me), play soccer until our trousers turn green with grassburns and our feet burn. Lots of fun. Benedictus, just returned from the Amazon, also joins us in Clarens, with a big black Oakley bag filled with Oakley accoutrements.
I invite Christie to join me for a bath or shower at Benedictus’ parents’ place, and thus the two are introduced. (Pregnant pause).
When we return I am starving, and a sheep carcass on a spit has more or less been stripped to the skeleton. But not quite. Lee cuts me a few morsels of meat and I have to say, it is some of the freshest and tastiest flesh I have ever tasted. I become a bit like Asterix at the Big Feast. Just ate meat!
That night we sleep in the classrooms of a primary school. I sleep beside the teacher’s desk, in the same room as Lukas (who would celebrate his birthday the next morning), San Marie, and Ben and Christie make their beds alongside mine.
Then, in the dark, on a stoep between the classrooms, the band and the group gather in a circle and we have another bible study. Not sure what it is about, but I do remember Izemarie asking this question: when is what we do God’s will/or our will?
We are a group sitting around the campfire playing the guitar – except there is no campfire.
I listen to John, the youth leader, offer insights. Then the Doc offers his wisdom, which I think is a fairly useful contribution. But I recognize Ize’s question as the same question I was asking at age 18, when I was in the Air Force, and about to launch into my life. It isn’t so much about (day to day) elements of what we do, well, it might include that, but really, it is about the directions we take with our lives, the major choices that take us broadly into the future – how do we know if these choices are our own, or God’s.
Here’s my two cents worth:
That sense of peril, of fear, that we may be departing from God’s will, in our ideas or thoughts or decisions, that comes from, that’s borne from the perception that we are here, and God is there. This idea of a disconnect. But God and us, collectively and individually (if there is such a thing) are connected. There are no mistakes, except, possibly, being passive, waiting for something to happen, waiting for life to reach us instead of reaching out, acting ourselves, out in the playing fields of the world.
Our mistakes are not mistakes at all, but longer roads, and God goes with us on those roads. Everything we do teaches us how to do what we do better, and everything we do helps us to know ourselves and God better, whether what we do immediately serves us, and God, or not. Our consciousness becomes deeper, and higher, unless, of course, we operate in the world without being conscious of what we are doing. Every act adds to the consciousness of the singularity (an individual being) and the collective Being.
Everything we do is an expression of God’s will, since we are a part of God. And God’s will is expressed in everything we do. God’s will, I have to say, is, contrary to popular belief, also not necessarily good, or bad. Good or bad is a relative concept, requiring judgments and putting one thing above another. When all things are connected, all things are the same in the sense that they are part of the same thing. God is neither good nor bad, and neither are we. God and we are simply: what everything is. The sum of all. In order to thrive, we have to be congruent with reality, with a present context (called The Now) and find our best talents to manifest alongside, or counter to the prevailing truth/reality.
In short – using your gifts, powering up your passion – is how you balance your will with the will of the spirit that governs the world and the heavens.
Ben goes to sleep with my white slipslops under his thin mattress (the prince(ss) and the slipslops?) Even though I am extremely sleepy, I find I can’t sleep. I recall that Ben’s mom, Mrs Kok, when we spoke to her in their little place in Clarens after getting ourselves clean, she said she ‘can’t remember’ me being in her Biology class at school, but she immediately remembered my friend Allan, and swooned and gushed fondly when I mentioned his name. I lay there, alone in the dark, with a sense of disgust in my throat. Disgust at myself and a sense – revulsion I think – that you can pass through the world unnoticed if you’re not careful. Some of that disgust was directed outside of myself. But then a sense of calmness. Not being seen is good if you’re a lion, or any other hunter. Being overlooked is good, if you’re say a horse, like Seabiscuit, or a tennis player, like, say, Michael Chang.
Even so I struggle to let go enough to find sleep. A good, hard day and the burden of insufficient sleep will simply add to the physical component tomorrow, through Golden Gate. And then I am through the gate, the last one to drop into the darkness of the night.
On Sunday I woke up to several bright white beams of light spooling into the hall, bright beams over mattresses and motionless, sometimes slightly moving sleeping bags. Next to me is Willie, someone whom I decide to call Peter Pan because he almost always wears bright blue tights (on his arms and legs) when on the bike. In response he calls me Superman – maybe because I have a Superman shirt, and maybe (I like to think, snigger) because I’m (super) strong on the bike. Well, I am. I am one of the strongest riders of this group.
I also meet Christie, reading on the lawn outside the hall. It’s unusual, to be reading, when so much is going on, so many people (whom one has not met) walking around, so I’m curious. I’ve immediately dumped my reading matter (a real diary, a project I am working on, writing about an epic Cairo to Cape Town epic for GQ magazine).
We (Christie and I) have an interesting conversation, and when I reflect on what was said now, well, it’s even more interesting out of the context of the tour.
Then there’s church, and to be honest, I am stressing. I haven’t been in church since Christmas eve in a South Korean Catholic church in 2003 and a Singapore church on Christmas day in 2004. I’m stressing because I am not a bullshitter. I’m not comfortable pretending to be someone I’m not, and while I’m a spiritual person, I have moved away from being purely Christian.
Somewhere in all the (well, to be accurate, it was me) fidgeting, and fretting, I found a way to find what was congruent with my belief system, the one I developed in my loneliness and aloneness, and this church styled group activity.
You have to understand that when you are on your own, in a foreign country, away from a community that knows you, you cannot stay at home and pray. You need to go out and learn how to operate in the country. You need to, in part, embrace, at least understand the culture and new language that you’re hoping to function in. And during this process, you realize that the world has gone on in places that operate (sometimes admirably so) on fundamentally different belief systems, like Confucianism, Buudhism, and Korean-style Christianity.
Let me explain that concept quickly here: Korean-style Christianity is Reverend Moon, Moon marriages (mass weddings), whole schools and business operated on “Christian” ethics, which is to say employees gladly give back 10% of their salaries as a Christian/Corporate tithe. And the more time spent at work, the more devoted/faithful an employee is seen to be.
Abortion is pretty acceptable (boys are preferred to girls), and cloning is seen as technologically advanced and boosts the National image. On the other hand, there is incredible sensitivity to mass media stuff like Da Vinci code (for its ability to manipulate Christians, proving an opportunity for them to second guess their programming).
In this environment its hardly surprising that Korea has the world’s second highest divorce rate. Not because they are as liberal as the Americans, but because they are so conservative that especially wives find themselves feeling strangled and suffocated in marriage.
These thoughts and others pass through while I sat in church. Perhaps my bald 34 year old head adds to my discomfort – because the congregation are looking at students, and who is this bald guy sitting between them?
And then I concentrate, in parts, on the very, very long sermon. Now in this sermon we read Mathew 26, verse 31. It’s about suffering. And I realize this:
Everything we experience on the Tour (and in life) – the sunburn, the hunger, thirst, cramps, lack of sleep, pain and stiffness – what it really does is it distracts us from useless thinking. And our reward for this physical commitment is a spiritual experience or at the very least, some kind of revelation about ourselves, and ourselves in the world.
Outside the sun shines brightly at me, as though the sky had just been washed clean. And in this light, and under the rocketing gold sandstone pillars of the church, all 70-something of us pose for photos.
Then it’s the packing mattresses and bikes. Louis throws himself off a small wall and onto a high pile of mattresses. I ask him to do it again and get a nice shot…
Then we get into the bus – a machine that consumes more oil than petrol – and head towards Clarens, the same busy little backwoods place tucked between sandstone cliffs where I spent a top 3 2005/2006 New Years.
In Clarens some of us play touch rugby, another group of 6 (including me), play soccer until our trousers turn green with grassburns and our feet burn. Lots of fun. Benedictus, just returned from the Amazon, also joins us in Clarens, with a big black Oakley bag filled with Oakley accoutrements.
I invite Christie to join me for a bath or shower at Benedictus’ parents’ place, and thus the two are introduced. (Pregnant pause).
When we return I am starving, and a sheep carcass on a spit has more or less been stripped to the skeleton. But not quite. Lee cuts me a few morsels of meat and I have to say, it is some of the freshest and tastiest flesh I have ever tasted. I become a bit like Asterix at the Big Feast. Just ate meat!
That night we sleep in the classrooms of a primary school. I sleep beside the teacher’s desk, in the same room as Lukas (who would celebrate his birthday the next morning), San Marie, and Ben and Christie make their beds alongside mine.
Then, in the dark, on a stoep between the classrooms, the band and the group gather in a circle and we have another bible study. Not sure what it is about, but I do remember Izemarie asking this question: when is what we do God’s will/or our will?
We are a group sitting around the campfire playing the guitar – except there is no campfire.
I listen to John, the youth leader, offer insights. Then the Doc offers his wisdom, which I think is a fairly useful contribution. But I recognize Ize’s question as the same question I was asking at age 18, when I was in the Air Force, and about to launch into my life. It isn’t so much about (day to day) elements of what we do, well, it might include that, but really, it is about the directions we take with our lives, the major choices that take us broadly into the future – how do we know if these choices are our own, or God’s.
Here’s my two cents worth:
That sense of peril, of fear, that we may be departing from God’s will, in our ideas or thoughts or decisions, that comes from, that’s borne from the perception that we are here, and God is there. This idea of a disconnect. But God and us, collectively and individually (if there is such a thing) are connected. There are no mistakes, except, possibly, being passive, waiting for something to happen, waiting for life to reach us instead of reaching out, acting ourselves, out in the playing fields of the world.
Our mistakes are not mistakes at all, but longer roads, and God goes with us on those roads. Everything we do teaches us how to do what we do better, and everything we do helps us to know ourselves and God better, whether what we do immediately serves us, and God, or not. Our consciousness becomes deeper, and higher, unless, of course, we operate in the world without being conscious of what we are doing. Every act adds to the consciousness of the singularity (an individual being) and the collective Being.
Everything we do is an expression of God’s will, since we are a part of God. And God’s will is expressed in everything we do. God’s will, I have to say, is, contrary to popular belief, also not necessarily good, or bad. Good or bad is a relative concept, requiring judgments and putting one thing above another. When all things are connected, all things are the same in the sense that they are part of the same thing. God is neither good nor bad, and neither are we. God and we are simply: what everything is. The sum of all. In order to thrive, we have to be congruent with reality, with a present context (called The Now) and find our best talents to manifest alongside, or counter to the prevailing truth/reality.
In short – using your gifts, powering up your passion – is how you balance your will with the will of the spirit that governs the world and the heavens.
Ben goes to sleep with my white slipslops under his thin mattress (the prince(ss) and the slipslops?) Even though I am extremely sleepy, I find I can’t sleep. I recall that Ben’s mom, Mrs Kok, when we spoke to her in their little place in Clarens after getting ourselves clean, she said she ‘can’t remember’ me being in her Biology class at school, but she immediately remembered my friend Allan, and swooned and gushed fondly when I mentioned his name. I lay there, alone in the dark, with a sense of disgust in my throat. Disgust at myself and a sense – revulsion I think – that you can pass through the world unnoticed if you’re not careful. Some of that disgust was directed outside of myself. But then a sense of calmness. Not being seen is good if you’re a lion, or any other hunter. Being overlooked is good, if you’re say a horse, like Seabiscuit, or a tennis player, like, say, Michael Chang.
Even so I struggle to let go enough to find sleep. A good, hard day and the burden of insufficient sleep will simply add to the physical component tomorrow, through Golden Gate. And then I am through the gate, the last one to drop into the darkness of the night.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
H5N1: Human to human
Human-to-human spread suspected in latest Indonesian bird-flu death 19:15:48 EDT May 22, 2006
HELEN BRANSWELL
(CP) - The World Health Organization appears to be edging closer to suggesting that an Indonesian man who died from H5N1 avian flu Monday may have been infected by his 10-year-old son, not through exposure to sick poultry or some other environmental source.
WHO officials had earlier expressed the theory that a thorough investigation might reveal a potential source of contagion in the community, such as use of contaminated chicken feces as manure. But expert disease investigators seem to be ruling out that possibility, a spokesperson for the WHO said from Geneva.
"There's no supporting evidence to suggest that this is a continuing environmental source that we've uncovered yet in the investigation," said WHO spokesperson Dick Thompson.
"The investigation is still ongoing. We wouldn't discount the possibility that it is human-to-human transmission."
Limited spread of the virus among people is believed to have happened on several previous occasions. But in each of these suspected cases, transmission of the virus petered out. Sustained human-to-human spread of the virus would be needed to trigger a pandemic.
Meanwhile, an Indonesian official revealed that the man who died Monday refused treatment and fled from authorities after falling ill - behaviour that highlights the difficulties of disease containment in settings where an unfamiliar disease is extracting a high death toll.
"This is precisely what we see, time and time again," medical anthropologist Barry Hewlett, a veteran of a number of WHO missions to contain outbreaks of Ebola virus in Africa, said of the panicked reactions Indonesian media have reported.
Reports have suggested fear and distrust have been running high in the affected community, which has watched in horror as multiple members of an extended family fell gravely ill in recent weeks, with most dying.
Dr. Heinz Feldmann of the Public Health Agency of Canada's National Microbiology Laboratory said in his experience fighting outbreaks of diseases like Ebola and Marburg fever, panic and distrust of authorities and medical outsiders is exacerbated when the death toll starts to rise.
"There are these white doctors who come in. Everyone thinks they're getting help, and then they're realizing they're not getting help. And everyone who goes into isolation (in hospital) is basically dying or a lot of them are dying," said Feldmann, a leading expert on hemorraghic fevers who heads the Winnipeg lab's special pathogens division.
"Then the community turns against you."
In cases dating back to late April, three of the man's siblings, two nephews, and two of his children became infected with the H5N1 virus. Only one family member who fell ill, a brother, has recovered from the infection.
The man's older sister, believed to be the first case in this cluster, died without being tested and is not on the WHO's official case count. With this latest case, the number of confirmed H5N1 cases in this family rises to seven, with six deaths.
The man, 32, is said to have nursed his son while the boy was dying, putting him in the path of blasts of virus-laced droplets.
When he himself became ill, he evaded authorities, the director-general of communicable disease control for the Indonesian health ministry told a news conference Monday.
"He ran away after he received Tamiflu," said I. Nyoman Kandun. "He was found in the village later but refused treatment."
Both Hewlett and Feldmann said getting people in such settings to co-operate with public health officials is a significant challenge that requires lots of communication with the community, sensitivity and a willingness to try to figure out what is motivating the behaviour.
Hewlett, a professor at Washington State University in Vancouver, Wash., recalls seeing Ugandans fleeing ambulances during a major Ebola outbreak in that country in 2000.
It turned out that there were rampant rumours that the team wasn't fighting disease, but was kidnapping Ugandans for body parts. The urban myth was fuelled by the fact that family members weren't allowed to visit their loved ones during their illnesses or after their deaths because of the fear of further spread of disease.
"My point is simply that you need to work with local people if you're going to make these things successful. Otherwise there's going to be resistance and the outbreaks will get worse rather than get better," said Hewlett, adding the WHO often now includes medical anthropologists or psychologists on outbreak teams as "social mobilizers" who can bridge the divide between the people affected and medical experts.
Feldmann said he can see another possible source of conflict with the Indonesian villagers - the fact that H5N1 control requires the culling of affected poultry. Demanding people give up animals they need, and which they often don't believe are a source of infection, can create tension, he suggested.
© The Canadian Press, 2006
HELEN BRANSWELL
(CP) - The World Health Organization appears to be edging closer to suggesting that an Indonesian man who died from H5N1 avian flu Monday may have been infected by his 10-year-old son, not through exposure to sick poultry or some other environmental source.
WHO officials had earlier expressed the theory that a thorough investigation might reveal a potential source of contagion in the community, such as use of contaminated chicken feces as manure. But expert disease investigators seem to be ruling out that possibility, a spokesperson for the WHO said from Geneva.
"There's no supporting evidence to suggest that this is a continuing environmental source that we've uncovered yet in the investigation," said WHO spokesperson Dick Thompson.
"The investigation is still ongoing. We wouldn't discount the possibility that it is human-to-human transmission."
Limited spread of the virus among people is believed to have happened on several previous occasions. But in each of these suspected cases, transmission of the virus petered out. Sustained human-to-human spread of the virus would be needed to trigger a pandemic.
Meanwhile, an Indonesian official revealed that the man who died Monday refused treatment and fled from authorities after falling ill - behaviour that highlights the difficulties of disease containment in settings where an unfamiliar disease is extracting a high death toll.
"This is precisely what we see, time and time again," medical anthropologist Barry Hewlett, a veteran of a number of WHO missions to contain outbreaks of Ebola virus in Africa, said of the panicked reactions Indonesian media have reported.
Reports have suggested fear and distrust have been running high in the affected community, which has watched in horror as multiple members of an extended family fell gravely ill in recent weeks, with most dying.
Dr. Heinz Feldmann of the Public Health Agency of Canada's National Microbiology Laboratory said in his experience fighting outbreaks of diseases like Ebola and Marburg fever, panic and distrust of authorities and medical outsiders is exacerbated when the death toll starts to rise.
"There are these white doctors who come in. Everyone thinks they're getting help, and then they're realizing they're not getting help. And everyone who goes into isolation (in hospital) is basically dying or a lot of them are dying," said Feldmann, a leading expert on hemorraghic fevers who heads the Winnipeg lab's special pathogens division.
"Then the community turns against you."
In cases dating back to late April, three of the man's siblings, two nephews, and two of his children became infected with the H5N1 virus. Only one family member who fell ill, a brother, has recovered from the infection.
The man's older sister, believed to be the first case in this cluster, died without being tested and is not on the WHO's official case count. With this latest case, the number of confirmed H5N1 cases in this family rises to seven, with six deaths.
The man, 32, is said to have nursed his son while the boy was dying, putting him in the path of blasts of virus-laced droplets.
When he himself became ill, he evaded authorities, the director-general of communicable disease control for the Indonesian health ministry told a news conference Monday.
"He ran away after he received Tamiflu," said I. Nyoman Kandun. "He was found in the village later but refused treatment."
Both Hewlett and Feldmann said getting people in such settings to co-operate with public health officials is a significant challenge that requires lots of communication with the community, sensitivity and a willingness to try to figure out what is motivating the behaviour.
Hewlett, a professor at Washington State University in Vancouver, Wash., recalls seeing Ugandans fleeing ambulances during a major Ebola outbreak in that country in 2000.
It turned out that there were rampant rumours that the team wasn't fighting disease, but was kidnapping Ugandans for body parts. The urban myth was fuelled by the fact that family members weren't allowed to visit their loved ones during their illnesses or after their deaths because of the fear of further spread of disease.
"My point is simply that you need to work with local people if you're going to make these things successful. Otherwise there's going to be resistance and the outbreaks will get worse rather than get better," said Hewlett, adding the WHO often now includes medical anthropologists or psychologists on outbreak teams as "social mobilizers" who can bridge the divide between the people affected and medical experts.
Feldmann said he can see another possible source of conflict with the Indonesian villagers - the fact that H5N1 control requires the culling of affected poultry. Demanding people give up animals they need, and which they often don't believe are a source of infection, can create tension, he suggested.
© The Canadian Press, 2006
Artic Update
A review of the last 5 days...
A powerful cold front has swept across the whole country, so that maximum midday temperatures barely scrape beyond 11 or 12 degrees Celsius. For South Africa that’s icy. My room captures all the day’s sun. Since it’s slightly elevated and north facing it catches the first rays of the morning, and the last rays of the evening. So when I come home, even with the heater off all day, the room is extremely cozy – with the blinds softening, and coloring the light adds to the warming effect.
News at school is that the principal intercepted a black bag, and inside it was a note to one of the teachers: “You’re next, bitch.” The note referred to the rotting carcass of a white cat that was also inside the bag. All four students associated with the dropping off of this bag are in Grade 10. I teach three Grade 10 classes, and they are a nightmare. Anyway, the staff have steeled themselves, and we are sticking together on this one. It’s important to not appear to be affected by acts of intimidation. Our principal has suggested ‘the drinking tea’ approach. That we appear stoic and unmoved, however we may be feeling. Obviously hearings will be held for the 4 students, and the teacher who the message was meant for has reported the incident to the police. The police are just shrugging their shoulders, and calling it a prank. It sets a somewhat alarming precedent, from my point of view, but the principal assures us that this sort of thing never happens. Ok.
There was also a bus accident over the weekend – a double concertina bus overtook a slow moving vehicle, and then was faced with a truck laden with bricks turning into the lane in front of it. The driver braked and the wheels locked – of the rear carriage, the rear section of the bus. This caused the bus to whip around and the bus ended up on its back. Brebner students had to crawl through the windows to get out. Many had cuts and bruises, all went to hospital and about three remained overnight. One of the girls on the bus was one of my students, the goalkeeper of my girls under 18 hockey, but I saw her today looking none the worse for wear.
Over the weekend I was on full hostel duty. Really hated it but got through some of my marking, and since it was so cold, I didn’t really miss out on training – I mean, I doubt whether anyone trained much over the weekend. On Saturday I also had to attend the Sport’s Day, and my team won all their matches (and R1000). Then, in the middle of all my duties, I got to know Jeanne, the girlfriend of the headmaster’s son, fairly well. She studies Occupational Therapy and also does hostel duty over occasional weekends. We swapped DVDs (I got a season of Desperate Housewives from her, gave her Groundhog Day and 21 Grams).
Today I got permission from the headmaster to get off teaching and to go to SA Cycling Champs in PE next week Thursday and Friday. Yippee.
Also met Justus after hockey practice (PJ was giving the under 18 boys some fitness coaching, so saw him today too) today to demonstrate on a map exactly where I went when I went through Lesotho. Next edition of Heartland will be printed on June 7th. Good news, means I will be repaid the R1000 for the trip plus be paid for the 5 stories published too. Maybe by this time next month I’ll be fairly flush. I’d like to put a bit of cash into GOLD FIELDS and SASOL, or top up my unit trusts.
He says I can use the new Toyota Yaris on Friday and Saturday this week. Should be good. Can go and check my university results and get to the Provincial Cycle Race on Saturday morning. He also told me that Passi, Alna’s mag has gotten off to a good start.
I am also considering buying an ex-girlfriends car – a red golf. She wants R25 000 for it. I just want to check the book value with Lindsay Saker and for that I need the year of manufacture and the odometer reading. Justus also reckoned it ought to be worth around R20 000.
Gave back all my Informal Tests today. Very busy at school but at least time marches by relentlessly. Hardly noticed the power failure today. For most of the day the bell didn’t go, and the kitchen staff were able to make do since they are able to cook with gas. Fortunately it came back on just as the sun sank away and the cold set in.
Might do some indoor training tonight on my bike, and some core exercises.
Looking forward to the trip to PE. Must find out now if there’s a flight available…
Welcome to the Desert of The Real
If you’ve seen the movie the Matrix you’ll be aware of the concept of having faith in something (which includes someone). Of course once you direct that faith into the real world, what happens is the belief manifests. To the extent that belief is based on truth – which is another way of saying on what is (objectively) real, to that extent, to that capacity, does this truth manifest. Truth is neither good nor bad – it is simply what is. But at the very least, it is the highest order of reality, and an individual needs to ascertain this baseline to find a relative position.
But I am straying from the point I wish to make here:
In The Matrix, Morpheus seeks for Neo his whole life, and Neo is also seeking. As it turns out, Morpheus is seeking a concept, and Neo accepts Morpheus’ concept, and even begins to believe himself as a kind of savior/rescuer (because this belief is supported by circumstance, by a confluence of events, by evidence, by popular belief). And then even Neo realizes that he is not the one – at least, not in the sense of being borne unto a certain destiny, of being divine by right or birth or providence or a divine Father. But be careful now, because it is a very subtle paradox, and in this careful contradiction, lies the third tier of the universe. Yes, it is not a duality, not just male and female, night and day, black and white. For there is also the eclipse, the stars, the union of humans (in which we came to be born and in which all new life comes into being), and the gray twilight that is both magic and chaos – the hinge upon which all things open, or close, and without it, there would be no door.
Now remember that after Neo realized that he had no manifest destiny – in other words, if he sat back and relaxed, destiny would not simply sweep him up into his role as savior. That’s not entirely accurate…but bear with me for a moment. In the same way that the momentum that got Neo to where he was, Neo took it over, owned it, accepted it and directed his purpose with an integrated sense of reality. While it took faith outside of himself, and faith greater than his own, to turn him into someone else, someone more powerful, it is finally the inner knowledge, and innerverse that completes the circle.
The interesting point is that our faith manifests reality, both in ourselves and those – who we empower – around us. In this way we are both the mechanism and the embodiment of God, in terms of our choices, and whom we select to represent us, to save us. We can save ourselves, unless of course, we gave up that choice (consciously or by default or ignorance) as a collective, and then it is left to individuals to save us – when our collective deadline has past, and reality – in its new often unbalanced guise of austerity – has set in. This redemption process is merely a process of rebalancing, just as austerity is also a process of rebalancing of the human race. Currently, the human race has by far exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet. Beyond this fact is the point that we (well, a minority section which we define as The First World) have for the last handful of decades enjoyed stupendous wealth, comforts and pleasures. This period is about to expire.
God is a consciousness beyond this world, but also one integrated into it (whether we accept that or not). That means God is part of this world, here. Now. The idea of heaven and hell as only after-life auditing is a distortion. Heaven and hell are both state of beings, and both states occur in the Now. They are merely states of harmony or dysfunction, rewards for living well (consciously), or not.
In fact, the power of God exists in only one place – the here and now. God is not as unfamiliar as we might think. God is the entire being of all things, as simple as that, and in that simple structure is far more profundity than we can imagine. This is because the universe extends further than this Earth, and the world, and all its creatures, is infinitely small, infinitely diverse, infinitely changing. For the moment, we are part of the desert of the real – in terms of being able to manifest our own contributions to reality (in thoughts, words, deeds) real and compute into a visual, physical world. But there is much besides.
In this sense, our thoughts, our words, and most importantly our actions, have the power of our comprehension, and, for collective good or ill, beyond individual capacities and comprehension. Reality is my choice, it’s yours, and it’s ours. But our participation makes what is. Each of us has unlimited capacities. Each of us can be more than we have, as yet, chosen to be. Power is in our hands, to have, to hold, or not to have. In the end, we have to be, or not be. For whatever we will, will come to pass.
A powerful cold front has swept across the whole country, so that maximum midday temperatures barely scrape beyond 11 or 12 degrees Celsius. For South Africa that’s icy. My room captures all the day’s sun. Since it’s slightly elevated and north facing it catches the first rays of the morning, and the last rays of the evening. So when I come home, even with the heater off all day, the room is extremely cozy – with the blinds softening, and coloring the light adds to the warming effect.
News at school is that the principal intercepted a black bag, and inside it was a note to one of the teachers: “You’re next, bitch.” The note referred to the rotting carcass of a white cat that was also inside the bag. All four students associated with the dropping off of this bag are in Grade 10. I teach three Grade 10 classes, and they are a nightmare. Anyway, the staff have steeled themselves, and we are sticking together on this one. It’s important to not appear to be affected by acts of intimidation. Our principal has suggested ‘the drinking tea’ approach. That we appear stoic and unmoved, however we may be feeling. Obviously hearings will be held for the 4 students, and the teacher who the message was meant for has reported the incident to the police. The police are just shrugging their shoulders, and calling it a prank. It sets a somewhat alarming precedent, from my point of view, but the principal assures us that this sort of thing never happens. Ok.
There was also a bus accident over the weekend – a double concertina bus overtook a slow moving vehicle, and then was faced with a truck laden with bricks turning into the lane in front of it. The driver braked and the wheels locked – of the rear carriage, the rear section of the bus. This caused the bus to whip around and the bus ended up on its back. Brebner students had to crawl through the windows to get out. Many had cuts and bruises, all went to hospital and about three remained overnight. One of the girls on the bus was one of my students, the goalkeeper of my girls under 18 hockey, but I saw her today looking none the worse for wear.
Over the weekend I was on full hostel duty. Really hated it but got through some of my marking, and since it was so cold, I didn’t really miss out on training – I mean, I doubt whether anyone trained much over the weekend. On Saturday I also had to attend the Sport’s Day, and my team won all their matches (and R1000). Then, in the middle of all my duties, I got to know Jeanne, the girlfriend of the headmaster’s son, fairly well. She studies Occupational Therapy and also does hostel duty over occasional weekends. We swapped DVDs (I got a season of Desperate Housewives from her, gave her Groundhog Day and 21 Grams).
Today I got permission from the headmaster to get off teaching and to go to SA Cycling Champs in PE next week Thursday and Friday. Yippee.
Also met Justus after hockey practice (PJ was giving the under 18 boys some fitness coaching, so saw him today too) today to demonstrate on a map exactly where I went when I went through Lesotho. Next edition of Heartland will be printed on June 7th. Good news, means I will be repaid the R1000 for the trip plus be paid for the 5 stories published too. Maybe by this time next month I’ll be fairly flush. I’d like to put a bit of cash into GOLD FIELDS and SASOL, or top up my unit trusts.
He says I can use the new Toyota Yaris on Friday and Saturday this week. Should be good. Can go and check my university results and get to the Provincial Cycle Race on Saturday morning. He also told me that Passi, Alna’s mag has gotten off to a good start.
I am also considering buying an ex-girlfriends car – a red golf. She wants R25 000 for it. I just want to check the book value with Lindsay Saker and for that I need the year of manufacture and the odometer reading. Justus also reckoned it ought to be worth around R20 000.
Gave back all my Informal Tests today. Very busy at school but at least time marches by relentlessly. Hardly noticed the power failure today. For most of the day the bell didn’t go, and the kitchen staff were able to make do since they are able to cook with gas. Fortunately it came back on just as the sun sank away and the cold set in.
Might do some indoor training tonight on my bike, and some core exercises.
Looking forward to the trip to PE. Must find out now if there’s a flight available…
Welcome to the Desert of The Real
If you’ve seen the movie the Matrix you’ll be aware of the concept of having faith in something (which includes someone). Of course once you direct that faith into the real world, what happens is the belief manifests. To the extent that belief is based on truth – which is another way of saying on what is (objectively) real, to that extent, to that capacity, does this truth manifest. Truth is neither good nor bad – it is simply what is. But at the very least, it is the highest order of reality, and an individual needs to ascertain this baseline to find a relative position.
But I am straying from the point I wish to make here:
In The Matrix, Morpheus seeks for Neo his whole life, and Neo is also seeking. As it turns out, Morpheus is seeking a concept, and Neo accepts Morpheus’ concept, and even begins to believe himself as a kind of savior/rescuer (because this belief is supported by circumstance, by a confluence of events, by evidence, by popular belief). And then even Neo realizes that he is not the one – at least, not in the sense of being borne unto a certain destiny, of being divine by right or birth or providence or a divine Father. But be careful now, because it is a very subtle paradox, and in this careful contradiction, lies the third tier of the universe. Yes, it is not a duality, not just male and female, night and day, black and white. For there is also the eclipse, the stars, the union of humans (in which we came to be born and in which all new life comes into being), and the gray twilight that is both magic and chaos – the hinge upon which all things open, or close, and without it, there would be no door.
Now remember that after Neo realized that he had no manifest destiny – in other words, if he sat back and relaxed, destiny would not simply sweep him up into his role as savior. That’s not entirely accurate…but bear with me for a moment. In the same way that the momentum that got Neo to where he was, Neo took it over, owned it, accepted it and directed his purpose with an integrated sense of reality. While it took faith outside of himself, and faith greater than his own, to turn him into someone else, someone more powerful, it is finally the inner knowledge, and innerverse that completes the circle.
The interesting point is that our faith manifests reality, both in ourselves and those – who we empower – around us. In this way we are both the mechanism and the embodiment of God, in terms of our choices, and whom we select to represent us, to save us. We can save ourselves, unless of course, we gave up that choice (consciously or by default or ignorance) as a collective, and then it is left to individuals to save us – when our collective deadline has past, and reality – in its new often unbalanced guise of austerity – has set in. This redemption process is merely a process of rebalancing, just as austerity is also a process of rebalancing of the human race. Currently, the human race has by far exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet. Beyond this fact is the point that we (well, a minority section which we define as The First World) have for the last handful of decades enjoyed stupendous wealth, comforts and pleasures. This period is about to expire.
God is a consciousness beyond this world, but also one integrated into it (whether we accept that or not). That means God is part of this world, here. Now. The idea of heaven and hell as only after-life auditing is a distortion. Heaven and hell are both state of beings, and both states occur in the Now. They are merely states of harmony or dysfunction, rewards for living well (consciously), or not.
In fact, the power of God exists in only one place – the here and now. God is not as unfamiliar as we might think. God is the entire being of all things, as simple as that, and in that simple structure is far more profundity than we can imagine. This is because the universe extends further than this Earth, and the world, and all its creatures, is infinitely small, infinitely diverse, infinitely changing. For the moment, we are part of the desert of the real – in terms of being able to manifest our own contributions to reality (in thoughts, words, deeds) real and compute into a visual, physical world. But there is much besides.
In this sense, our thoughts, our words, and most importantly our actions, have the power of our comprehension, and, for collective good or ill, beyond individual capacities and comprehension. Reality is my choice, it’s yours, and it’s ours. But our participation makes what is. Each of us has unlimited capacities. Each of us can be more than we have, as yet, chosen to be. Power is in our hands, to have, to hold, or not to have. In the end, we have to be, or not be. For whatever we will, will come to pass.
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