Early memory

We have the English content for our next lesson - we just need to work on the Sotho. Busy cause Monicca is planning her wedding ; )

What follows is a very vivid, early memory. I bathed in a horrible truth very early in my life - it was the basis for much of my ideas...

I hate loving this country. I hate what it is and I love what it is. I have seen horrible things in this country.

My eyes saw a man dying on the road, dying as he waited for help. Help arrives. It is the wrong kind of help. It is a whites only ambulance and it only takes white people. The dying man is not white, he is black. His blood is red.

I was looking out the car window just as we were passing the accident. My dad warned us not to look. It was too late. I was dreaming, eyes focused exactly where they would see a dying man. He looked as if he was half asleep. His legs and arms were outstretched in comfort. A still pool of blood lay next to him. It had fallen from his mouth and grown slowly in size. A mouth fountain of life lost.

I did not want to see him. I was little and it upset my world. I would have chosen to look away. I would have chosen not to know that he could not travel in the ambulance that first arrived. I would have chosen not to know his ambulance arrived much later, an ambulance that looked like an old aunty of the one that had been there before. He died. My mom told me that he was OK, but I knew he was dead. Why had that first ambulance not taken him? Why? Where did we find the hatred to leave a man that was so close to death?

Exert from "Things of my place"

For the great and inspiring Ballet Theatre Afrikaan and Thoriso Magongwa who I wish still danced

WWHD - code name for a cool friend, who at her sister's 30th birthday, said in her strong and beautiful Afrikaans accent she doesn't train away (halle flippin lujah for that) something along the lines of... "It is wonderful to bare witness to the lives of those around you". Sigh - it was one of those moments. 

WWHD is one of the most honest people I know. She's refreshing. She has retained her child like honesty - rare in this world. Another person who is one of the most honest I know, plagues me when I read through my writing because I imagine  his reactions. Once, he said to me, "Why do you always wear clothes that are too small for you?". He also once said to a reborn christian who worked with his wife, "I hate Christians". And, he hated my baby shower because of all the "emotional ooooooo stuff". 

So MW - if you ever, ever get to read this - and I know the chances are flippin slim... I know, I know - all emotional stuff - but it flippin is what it is. 

And with that said, here's another exert from the emotionally driven, "Things of my place".

Ballet Theatre Afrikaan (For Thoriso Magongwa - written in 2001)

You danced. Your spirit, expressing itself through your art, shaping your face. Your art, your passion has made you beautiful. So beautiful that you transend gender and stand as beauty in its own place. So beautiful that I cannot take my eyes off of you. Your limbs, your extension, your presence.

And then I feel sadness, sadness at all of this - that I only see now. I have past faces that are worn, weary, wrinkled, wry. And it starts me thinking about how experience can shape a face.

Work is love made visible

Allen - because you check out for our work all the time - we dedicate this to you and hope that you have found, or find, work that feels like and shows your love. We have the brackets muddled here and there and have not fully tested the content - but it is finally here - woo hoo (: o). Initially, I was recording the translations and I did the sotho words first and the english after. Monicca has reversed this order and I think this works better. Enjoy!

Manuela's love is made visible through her pictures. Manu - I need you to capture Monicca please. X

Work is love made visible (As seen on the back of a Primi Piatti waiter’s orange overall)

Mmereko ke lerato la go dira ponagalo (Bjalo ka ge lebona ka morago ga thetho ya Primi Piatti ye sorolwana)

<Mmereko> (work) <ke> (is) <lerato> (love) <la go dira> (made) <ponagalo> (visible) (<Bjalo ka ge lebona> (as seen) <ka> (on) <morago> (back) <ga> (of) <thetho> (overall) <ya> (of) Primi Piatti <ye> (the plural of waiter) <sorolwana> (orange))

I met Monicca many years ago

Ke hlakane le Monicca mengwaga ye malwa ya go feta

<Ke> (I) <hlakane> (met) <le> (with) Monicca <mengwaga> (years) <ye> (plural for years) <malwa> (many) <ya go feta> (ago)

Her mother worked with me and she herself was looking for work

Mmagwe o berekile le nna le yena o be a nyaka mmereko

<Mmagwe> (her mom) <o berekile> (worked) <le> (with) <nna> (me) <le> (and) <yena> (she) o be a nyaka (looking) mmereko (work)

What interested me about Monicca was she knew exactly what it was she wanted to do

Ke eng se se nthabesetseng nna ka Monicca obe a tseba ga botse ke eng seo abego nyakago go sedira

<Ke eng> (what) (se se nthabesetseng)<interested>( me)< nna> ( ka Monicca)(with Monicca) <obe> (was) <a tseba> (knew) <ga botse> (exactly) <ke eng> (what) <seo abego> (nyakago) <wanted> (go) <to> (sedira) <do>

She loved cooking and baking – something she says she discovered at the age of six

O rata go apea le go paka nako ye nngwe o rile o lemogile ka megwaga ye tshela

(She) <O> (loved) <rata> (cooking) <go apea> (and) <le> (baking) <go paka> - (something) <nako ye nngwe> (she) <o> ( says) <rile> (she) <o> (discovered) <lemogile> (at) <ka> (the age) <megwaga)> (of) <ye> (six) <tshela>

She singled her self out from the hordes of people looking for work in this country because she had a passion she wished to pursue 

(She)<O>( singled) <dumetse> (her self ) <yena> (out) <go tswa> (from) <ka gare> (the) <ga> (hordes) <lesaba> (of ) <la> (people) <batho> (looking ) <nyaka> for (work) <mmereko> (in) <ka> (this) <ye> ( country) <naga> (because) <ka lebaka> (she) <o> (had) <na> a (passion) <kgotlelelo> (she) <o> (wished) <okare> (to) <a> (pursue) <phomelela>

Good luck in finding the work that awakens you and makes your love visible

Mahlatse a mabotse ka go hwetsa mmereko yo tsosetsegowena le go dira la gago lerato go ba gona

(Good luck) <mahlatse a mabotse> (in ) <ka> (finding) <go hwetsa> (the work) <mmereko> (that) <yo> (awakens) <tsosetsego> ( you) <wena> (and) <le> (makes) <go dira> (your) <la gago> (love) <lerato> (visible) <go ba gona> 

Monicca, brilliant cook, entrepreneur and educator

Monicca, kgona go apea, entrepreneur le go rutega

(Monicca), (brilliant ) <kgona> (cook) <go apea>, ( entrepreneur) (and) <le> (educator) <go rutega>

Kerryn, educator and writer who would one day love to write the words painter, a gardener that cared a lot who grew her own vegetables and fruit, and nature lover and conservationist behind her name too

Kerryn, morutegi le mongwadi wa lestsatsi le le ngwe lerato la ngwala mantsu penta, ka tshemo ye hlokomela ga ga malwa yo go bjala a gagwe merogo le hlago go rata le conservationist gare leina la gagwe kudu

Kerryn, (educator) <morutegi> (and) <le> (writer) <mongwadi> (who) <wa> (would) <letsatsi> (one day) <le le ngwe> (love) <lerato> (to) <la> (write ) <ngwala> (the words) <mantsu> (painter) <penta>, (a) <ka> (gardener) <tshemo> (that) <ye> (cared) <hlokomela> (a) <ga> (lot) <ga malwa> (who) <yo> (grew) <go bjala> (her own) <a gagwe> (vegetables) <merogo>, (and) <le> (nature) <hlago> (lover) <go rata> (and) <le> conservationist (behind) <gare> (her name) <leina la gagwe> (too) <kudu>

It is what it is, which is just exactly what it is

Monicca and I have been passing germs to each other. I was sick Thursday to Sunday and my bugs incubated in her over the weekend, and as she so aptly described earlier... they have managed to, and here I quote verbatim, "take my power". So... it means the post we were working on is delayed another day - and Allen if you read this - it also means that your contribution and your mom's contribution are delayed as well. Hopefully for just one more day - that's if Monicca can conquer those bugs quicker than I could. 

In the mean time, here is another exert from "Things of my place". Ja - its a bit political, but in the words of my one special friend... "it is what it is"... which is just exactly what it is.

Memories of protest on campus - 1994

Black students embarked on a litter campaign. Bins were overturned, the content kicked and spread out. Engineering students, mostly white, protested against the litter campaign. Overturned bins were replaced, litter was re-gathered and re-deposited. 

A march was organised. The press was informed. There was toyi-toying, singing, u-ulating and overturning bins recently turned upright. A few determined and defiant engineering students cleaned some twenty metres in front of the fast approaching crowd. The tension in the air bounced on everyone’s stomaches. Inevitable confrontation loomed in. The engineering students cleaned with down turned faces hiding the tension strangling them, trying hard to match their calling with brave faces. Strong emotions made movements mechanical – lifting paper up in clutched hands, shuffling around the bin, mechanically opening hands over bins.

Photographers stood waiting at the place the two sides would meet. The crowd crosses the marked point. Engineering students stand to one side. Bins, so recently filled are overturned. Engineering students step into the crowd, chasing paper, lifting bins, fumbling. Defiant stare meets defiant stare. Bins are overturned once again. Defiant stare holds defiant stare. Paper is lifted. Paper is grabbed from hands, flung onto the floor. Bodies move in. Strength moves in. Clutching.

The photographers that should have been capturing a picture for the world to see, release cameras on neck straps that fall hard against their chests. Instinctively they move in, two of them moving as if they are one. They invade the space of confrontation. They push angry bodies apart. They stand in the space of confrontation, preventing anyone from entering.

I do not remember the colour of the photographers. I do not remember their sex. (Actually I do remember their colour and sex but when I wrote this I chose not to reveal it and I'll respect that). Their deed will never, ever leave me. It is a deed that will always give me hope in a country that is the final confrontation place of the sins of the world. Our grey place between white and black, the place we avoided full combat confrontation a world waited to see.

We walk forward to somewhere undefined, new. A renaissance.

The ship is not abandoned

For the benefit of our two followers, and our consciences, this is a post to declare that we have not abandoned ship... rather we are getting more into it - kinda like how deep does the rabbit hole get. We're realizing that its not just a question of "here's the English" and now "here's the Sotho". It requires serious conversations and unpacking and a bit of flippin philosophy and quite a few giggles along the way. We're spending some time making sure nothing is lost in translation. Until we get that right - sala Gabotse (Good bye)