Mbeki visits Canada
Canada to help with medicine to Africa
South African Goliath
Diamond ownership
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
Monday, November 03, 2003
WORK 2 PLAY
I WENT TO LIMPOPO PROVINCE A COUPLE WEEKENDS AGO FOR WORK. We went to visit one of the places we recently gave the Fair Trade label to and checked out the scene (R & R with yummy food)! It's a 5.5 bus ride there past Polokwane, arriving at Louis Trichardt. And from there another short drive towards the Albasini Dam to Shiluvari Lodge.
Arriving there in the dark, we saw countless stars and I saw some of them twinkling! Twinkling little stars up above the world so high. . . but the next evening it was a bit overcast and only the Southern Cross was visible. Apparently, those in the Southern Hemisphere can't see the Big and Little Dippers. Rumours have it that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Can somebody please confirm this for me? I find it hard to believe.
The next day, I take a walk a little ways along the huge dam and I can hear grunting and breathing from the hippos underwater. There are footprints on the moist sand. I am scared because they tell me hippos are dangerous; they stay underwater during the day and appear at night. A dog that belongs to the owner of the lodge wandered out one night and the hippo bit its body, almost ripping it in half. After intense surgery, the dog is alive.
WHAT KIDS WANT
MANY ARTISTS LIVE IN THIS RURAL VENDA SPEAKING COMMUNITY. There are pottery co-operatives, textile co-operatives and other crafts sold to tourists. The great thing about co-operatives is that even though all the stores look the same and sell the same things (even same displays), you know that they will all get the fair share at the end of the day.
We were at one of the pottery stops and all the kids were hanging around and gawking at us tourists. I take out my camera for a shot of the surrounding areas and then the kids start giggling. I walk towards them not really knowing what to say. (At the previous stop I attempted to talk to a couple girls but they didn't know English).
I tell them I that I am hot and asked them how to say that in Venda and they teach me (I forget already) and I ask them their names. They laugh at my accent as I attempt Venda and then one boy blatantly says to me "Give me money so I can buy chocolate." I say no because I cannot comprehend the logistic of feeding all of Africa chocolate.
They finally point at my camera, wanting me to take their pictures. So I take it, and they want another one. And then these boys fight for me to take their pictures. A few teenager shyly come to ask me as well. I am running out of film so I tell them no. But I feel bad taking all the pictures so I ask them for their address where I can mail them back. I take out my pen. . . they are all around me.
A sea of outstretched hands, desperately reach for my sole pink pen that is almost out of ink.
"Please. I am your friend."
"I need to write my exam."
"I am your friend."
"Give me the pen."
"Please."
They incessantly try to speak over the other young voices and I am at loss for words. Their pleas are almost demanding as I stand there motionless. I was told about this happening in other African countries but I never suspected this in South Africa.
Somebody points behind me. The bakkie (truck/4x4) I came on is starting its engine. I blindly shove the pen into a child's hand and take off. The emotions are overwhelming.
"There are children who are worse off," my co-worker told me the next day. "At least these ones have food and roofs over their heads."
I tried not to imagine others who do not.
I WENT TO LIMPOPO PROVINCE A COUPLE WEEKENDS AGO FOR WORK. We went to visit one of the places we recently gave the Fair Trade label to and checked out the scene (R & R with yummy food)! It's a 5.5 bus ride there past Polokwane, arriving at Louis Trichardt. And from there another short drive towards the Albasini Dam to Shiluvari Lodge.
Arriving there in the dark, we saw countless stars and I saw some of them twinkling! Twinkling little stars up above the world so high. . . but the next evening it was a bit overcast and only the Southern Cross was visible. Apparently, those in the Southern Hemisphere can't see the Big and Little Dippers. Rumours have it that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Can somebody please confirm this for me? I find it hard to believe.
The next day, I take a walk a little ways along the huge dam and I can hear grunting and breathing from the hippos underwater. There are footprints on the moist sand. I am scared because they tell me hippos are dangerous; they stay underwater during the day and appear at night. A dog that belongs to the owner of the lodge wandered out one night and the hippo bit its body, almost ripping it in half. After intense surgery, the dog is alive.
WHAT KIDS WANT
MANY ARTISTS LIVE IN THIS RURAL VENDA SPEAKING COMMUNITY. There are pottery co-operatives, textile co-operatives and other crafts sold to tourists. The great thing about co-operatives is that even though all the stores look the same and sell the same things (even same displays), you know that they will all get the fair share at the end of the day.
We were at one of the pottery stops and all the kids were hanging around and gawking at us tourists. I take out my camera for a shot of the surrounding areas and then the kids start giggling. I walk towards them not really knowing what to say. (At the previous stop I attempted to talk to a couple girls but they didn't know English).
I tell them I that I am hot and asked them how to say that in Venda and they teach me (I forget already) and I ask them their names. They laugh at my accent as I attempt Venda and then one boy blatantly says to me "Give me money so I can buy chocolate." I say no because I cannot comprehend the logistic of feeding all of Africa chocolate.
They finally point at my camera, wanting me to take their pictures. So I take it, and they want another one. And then these boys fight for me to take their pictures. A few teenager shyly come to ask me as well. I am running out of film so I tell them no. But I feel bad taking all the pictures so I ask them for their address where I can mail them back. I take out my pen. . . they are all around me.
A sea of outstretched hands, desperately reach for my sole pink pen that is almost out of ink.
"Please. I am your friend."
"I need to write my exam."
"I am your friend."
"Give me the pen."
"Please."
They incessantly try to speak over the other young voices and I am at loss for words. Their pleas are almost demanding as I stand there motionless. I was told about this happening in other African countries but I never suspected this in South Africa.
Somebody points behind me. The bakkie (truck/4x4) I came on is starting its engine. I blindly shove the pen into a child's hand and take off. The emotions are overwhelming.
"There are children who are worse off," my co-worker told me the next day. "At least these ones have food and roofs over their heads."
I tried not to imagine others who do not.
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