Tell me this is all a dream.

 

Exam. Today. Me. Now. Writing. Writing? How does one write? When last did I write? Help. me. Survive. this torture. Why. have. all. these. full stops. attacked. my. blog?

Yes, as you are reading this, I am probably trying to remember how to work a pen.

You know the things people say before exams, like "Oh my god I am going to fail, I have done nothing, NOTHING!"

Well, most of the time they are lying through their teeth. I know. I have done it.

This time I am deadly serious, as deadly as a sea snake serious, when I say I have not studied, and not only have I not studied, but I actually do not give a rat's ass about this stupid exam, I am not panicking, I just don't care.

This is terrible. This has never happened to me before. I have always been good at studying. In fact, I thought it was pretty much all that I was good at. I thrived on last minute cramming, I never worried about exams. But I always cared very much about my results.

 

I am just not able to study any more. I am old. Since the age of 6, I have been involved in formal education for 19 and a half years! That is a lot of years! The only time I took out was 2 and a half years when I first came to the UK. I think my brain is telling me it is gatvol with this studying malarkey and is on strike.

My studying mojo has left the building. The only reason I am pitching up for this exam today is because I paid the course fees and it seems so wrong to waste the money and have to do this course again some time. Good motivation huh? Somehow I have to scrape me a 50% (I can't believe I am actually saying this).

This is all very disheartening for me. I feel like I am not myself. I feel completely detached from my life, like I am in a hot air balloon, observing from a distance, and somebody cut the rope. What a shit feeling. When do I get to come down?

Have good a  Friday people, and I hope to see you all next week if I make it through this fate worse than death that is an African literature exam (anyone read Country of my skull? A part of me dies each time I read it).

(I pray the miss karma lady is not pissed with me today, because as a rule, me + London = horrendous karma).

 

(signs are from imagechef, as part of my tag mission from definelife)

Blogoholic

Dear internet, did you know... that I have another blog? Greedy me, gobbling up the blogosphere with all my words, huh?

I am not trying to shamelessly punt my blog here, it is not the type that people would want to read on a regular basis. It is called Typesplat and the reason I am announcing it here is because this week I am posting some little poems from a guest, Foo, and they make me laugh, and I thought they might make you smile too, and then the world will be a happier place.

I would love it if anyone else out there in the world wants to contribute to my blog.

I use the blog for writing practice, because I realised that I only write when I am doing a writing class and that is no good. And as we have been told time and time again in class: if you really want to be a writer you have to form a writing habit. You have to write every single day, even if it is just a few lines. 

Another thing my teacher is fond of quoting goes something like "a published writer is only an unpublished writer that never gave up".

I am trying to take these things to heart, and I thought that having a "writing practice" blog would encourage me to form a writing habit and to keep on trying.

So I post any little random rhymes or things that pop into my mind. I don't post proper poetry on my blog because if I write any poems that I think are good, I am going to try and get them published in the real world.

Why would I benefit from other people  posting on my blog? Together we can take over the world? Pinkie? (Clearly I am Brain). 

We shall not become rich or famous, but I thought it could be fun if anyone else wanted to do some writing practice too. It may be a one off thing, a burst of creativity that you are willing to splat. You may have no desire to be a writer. But everybody has a few lines in them, right? It can be in any language, but it might be cool if you could translate it.

Like I said, I am not looking for quality poetry, because you must try and get that published, but if you have any haikus, limericks, rhyming lines or blank verse that you want to splat on to my purple page,  you are more than welcome to send them to me at seamonkeypo@gmail.com and I will put them up. And link back to your blog, if you have one.

South Africa: poverty and expats.

Today is Blog Action Day, and the subject for today is poverty. Am I really qualified to write about poverty? I who have never experienced it myself? Well I am going to try.

Fellow blogger ladyfi over here is also participating in Blog Action day, and she is donating money to charity for every comment that she receives on today's blog post, so if you care about poverty, please head over to her blog, okay?

I do not claim to understand the complexities of poverty. Poverty is an intricate ecosystem that seems in some ways to sustain itself, with very few moving up in the food chain. How did it begin? How can it end?

Poverty in South Africa may be a little easier to get a handle on because of the obvious contributing factors of legalised opression of the masses. But it is still a complex situation that will not disappear with the mere changing of a government.

So why should expat South Africans care about poverty in South Africa seeing as they have left it all behind?

Personally, I am so grateful for what South AFrica has given me. I recieved an excellent government school education that in some countries would be considered private school level. I had the privelege of having one of the highest standards of living in the world. I know that some of this came at a cost to other people who are in poverty now. 

I know that not everyone sees things this way, but whether you love it or hate it, you have a part of South Africa in you that you can never escape. The place helped to make you who you are. This may sound weird, but I do feel that because of the nature of the country, we all do owe it something, and we all have something to give.

Whether you plan to go back some day or not, you have the power to make a difference to poverty in South Africa if you want to.

• Short term solutions include things like donating to charity. Of course there are debates about charities and if they harm more than they help. But they do make a difference to people's lives, people who are suffering right now, and need help right now. And your foreign currency is so powerful in South Africa. A little to you will go a long way there.
  

Here is a link to a list of South African charities. Most South African charities are not wired up for online payments, which means you will need to send a cheque or make a visit to your bank for a payment transfer.

• Longer term solutions to poverty are more difficult to participate in if you do not plan to return. 
  

Those planning to return can consider starting a business that will employ people, and allow them to send their children to good schools, and help to break the cycle of poverty.

If you don't plan on going back, there is still the option of adoption. There are many many orphans in South Africa who have slim prospects for a prosperous future. AIDS has contributed to this number considerably. Again there are debates around the issue of removing a child from its culture. But providing love and food and a safe home environment to a child would seem to outweigh the problem of a child growing up in a foreign environment in most cases. That is up to you. If you would consider adoption of a South African child, click here.

Whether you decide to do something or not, I feel that all South Africans, at home or not, can at least contribute an attitude of understanding and awareness of poverty. I feel that it is no longer acceptable to hear things like this being said (especially not by fellow whities):

 "Look at the conditions in this township. They have all the oportunites in the world now but they are still living in squalor."

I have heard that kind of thing all too many times. Try at least to look beyond the surface of poverty in South Africa. If you can give to your country at least a reflective attitude then you have contributed something.

Here are a few links to some organisations doing good work in South Africa

• African scholars fund- does excellent work giving scholarships to South African school children and students so they can complete their schooling. The requirements are a low income and a keenness for education. All races are eligible.
  
• operation shoebox- collects toys for underprivileged children in the Western Cape and also runs a child sponsorship programme
• iZulu orphan projects- looks after children and widows who are affected by AIDS in Zululand, KwaZulu Natal.
  

• Epworth Childrens village -  work with children from traumatized and deprived backgrounds in Germiston, Gauteng.
• Lebone House - is a care centre for orphans and vulnerable children in Bloemfontein.
• help2read - places volunteers in Cape Town schools to help teach children to read. Books and donations are welcome.

Hold the phone

I just thought that I would share this with you. This is the phone that I bought recently:

                    

                  

Is that not the ugliest phone you have ever, ever seen? It is the ugliest phone I have ever seen. I mean, who are those people and what would possess someone to put pictures of them on my phone? And how about that hot luminous yellow strip of joy?

In the shop I felt I couldn't justify paying the extra money for the sexy expensive phone. But now I  really really wish I had spent the extra money on the sexy phone because that thing gives me a headache. It looked ugly on the box but I wasn't prepared for just how ugly. When G came home and saw it he laughed for about 15 minutes.

10 Things I hate about you.

Hate is an extreme word. Through some intense and painful personal experiences I have come to realise that the concept of hate does not exist, not for me anyway. I am truly incapable of hating someone.

But this was inspired by the movie "10 things I hate about you", specifically the poem at the end. But without the rhymes.

To G.

 10 things I hate about you:

1) I hate it when you leave me

2) I hate it that when you are away and we are talking on the phone, you can say goodbye, because for me the call is never, ever long enough.

3) I hate it when you come home late and don't call and I have imagined you dead.

4) I hate that I can hurt you so easily

5) I hate it that I do not deserve you

6) I hate it when you doubt yourself

7) I hate that you give me more than I give you in this relationship

8)I hate that you once broke up with me, which means you could see your life without me in it.

9) I hate that I cannot begin to imagine my life without you in it.

10) I hate that I have used the word hate in anything related to you. Because I could never hate you, not one tiny bit,  not at all.

The A-Z of me.

I am bored, so bored that I completed the A-Z of me. This is what happens when your entire social network, lifestyle, and  free time revolve around climbing, and you cannot climb. Sucks. Hope nobody actually reads this:

A is for apples. I don't eat them, they make me nauseous. In fact oranges are pretty much the only fruit that I do eat.

B is for boring, which I am. I like boring. Up to a point. And for blogging, which I do. And for Botswana, where I lived when I was small, and Brad Pitt, who I think is hot.

C is for cats. I love cats but I don't have one at the moment. As soon as we move to another place I will get one. And for Cartmann, my role model. And for Cape Town, the place I want to be living in again, sometime.

D is for Durban, the place in South Africa where I was born and raised.

E is for English, the only language I speak fluently. I am very ashamed of that. The only other language that I could speak was Afrikaans and I haven't spoken it since school so I doubt I could hold a conversation. I can read it still though.

F is for fingernails. I still chew mine at age 28. 

G is the intial of my boyfriend's name. We have been together 8 years, and are "married" emotionally and mentally but will never get married in a formal way.

H is for hair. Mine is brown. And handstands, which I like to do.

I is for internet, to which I am addicted.

J is for Jumping Jaks popcorn which I would probably eat every day if I could.

K is for karma, bad, which I seem to have in bucketloads right now.

L is for Leamington Spa, the place in England where I currently live.

M is for marijuana, which is bad, m'kay? Except in Holland; then you can go wild.

N is for naughty which I am not.  Mostly. And nice which I am, sometimes.

O is for orangutan, which my teacher called me at school because of my freakishly long arms. Oook!

P is for peanut butter. I ate only peanut butter sandwiches for about 8 years. Now I do not eat peanut butter at all. Strange, that. And for penicillin, which I did not discover.

Q is for quiet, which I am. Except for sometimes when I don't shut up and that usually involves alcohol.

R is for rock climbing, my favourite sport, which I cannot do because of an injury and then a misdiagnosis and then an operation for no reason, blah blah. But thanks to my genius chiropractor I may get to start again soon!

S is for science, a thing I sometimes pretend to do.

T is for toes which I can touch. 

U is for underestimate, which I do of myself.

V is for vain, which I am but I keep it a secret by going around looking like a slob.

W is for Westville. The suburb in Durban where I have spent more years than any other place. It was dull. But cool because it was where I spent my childhood.

X is for the x on a ballot paper which I have never ever made. This frustrates me greatly.

Y is for younger, which I wish I was.

Z is for zebras. I used to live down the road from a tiny nature reserve which had quite a few zebras. These are the only major African animals I have seen in the wild (apart from dassies, penguins, and springboks of course :)  ).

twisted tales of the tokoloshe

I have always had this fascination with tokoloshes. I love the word and I love the sense of folklore and fairytale about them. I know they are more than folklore to many people, but I haven't seen one yet. Although, apparently if you have seen one you can never say so or the tokoloshe will come back and get you. Supposedly it looks like "a very nasty teddy bear". It is all part of the African tradition that I do not participate in but find interesting nevertheless.

In Durban I was impressed by how religiously people put their beds on bricks. I always thought that this was to prevent you being carried away in the night, like in the Madam and Eve cartoons. 

                          

So how disturbed was I when I googled tokoloshes and found out that the reason you put your bed on bricks is because the tokoloshe has a freakishly long dick and can rape you in your sleep? My happy little fairytale bubble has been pricked (ahem).

I feel vaguely violated, much like how I felt after I discovered the truth about Father Christmas. (Apparently you are supposed to pretend he doesn't exist or he won't give you any presents. How set up did I feel at age 6 when my mom told me this and I realised that all along I had been receiving only her measly presents. Now that I pretend he doesn't exist he give me loads of presents each year. Why do our parents lie to us?).

What a twisted world we live in, hey?

your tagging needs

Hi people out there. Tamara suggested I should turn yesterday's post into a meme. She suggested that every person that I tagged should find out the needs of 5 other people.

So there, you have been tagged. A whole lot of you. I know loads of people hate tags, but if you don't do this one I will send those aliens that are coming your address. Anyone familiar with the term "anal probe"?

Just kidding, do it if you want, ignore it if you want, I don't mind. I am a bit shy of the tagging thing myself.

Just be prepared to set off airport security alarms for the rest of your life.

Po in the hole.

Did I ever tell you about the time I fell in the hole?

Today I have nothing interesting to say, so instead I shall regale you with stories from my embarrassing past.

I was in high-school in Durban. It had been raining hard all day. Construction men had been digging up pipes or something. Anyway, there was a huge hole in the pavement outside the school gates. During the day it had  filled up with rainwater. 

At the end of the day, everyone was streaming out of the gates to go home. My friend, who I shall call Moonoomie, and I, were looking for her mom's car. As we walked we saw a girl fall into the hole. Everybody cracked up at the sight of the poor girl. For some reason I found it hysterically funny, so funny that long after everyone else had stopped laughing and moved on, I was still hosing myself. I mean, it was a huge hole, how could she miss it? Hahaha.

Eventually I recovered and we spotted Moonoomie's mom, who to help us avoid the rain, had parked right outside the school. Right in front of the aforementioned hole in fact. 

Now, I saw that we would have to walk past the hole, I mentally prepared myself for walking past the hole and NOT FALLING IN, I focussed and everything. 

Why is it that when you are focussing so hard on not doing something that your brain seems to blow a fuse and the next thing you know your legs are literally jumping towards the hole and diving in? Can anyone answer me this?

So yes, I fell in the hole. As I walked past it I somehow slipped. OR my legs jumped, beyond my control. That is my story and I am sticking to it. Talk about karma biting you in the bum. I who laughed hardest ended up in the hole too. Harsh.

Once I had been fished out, and had faced the mass hysteria of all around me, I was bundled, dripping, into the car. Moonoomie and her mom wet themselves the whole way home. I, who was already as wet as I could be, did not.

Meeting your needs.

I am definitely feeling a bit lost and at sea at the moment, and whenever I am in doubt, who do I turn to? The internet! I saw this on someone's blog but I cannot remember who. If it was you please tell me and I will credit you.

So I typed: "[my real name] needs" into google and this is what it told me:

I need... someone to turn to when I have problems, I need a home, I need to rebuild some bridges, I need to grow up, and I need a neurosurgeon (I do? That means I have a brain?! Whoohoo!).

Some good advice there I feel. Then I decided to look up some answers for some of the bloggers out there. I used blog names, so not all of them worked. If you are not on this list, you can use your real name and try it yourself.

Here is what the blogosphere needs:

Po needs... to stay

Ches needs... more than just a senior feed (feeling hungry Ches?)

Tamara needs... your help

(Being) brazen needs... color palette by lovenoxmom ( a bit cryptic this one...)

Blondie needs... a plumber and ... your battery expertise

The divine miss M needs... her life back and... new clothes

kitty cat needs.. a name and... a tummy rub

Peas needs... support

Moe needs... some buddies

6000 needs... major help

miss T needs... to get her license and... a spanking (AAAAH! That is not me, you must blame google for that one!)

Sass needs... a new toaster

Rox needs... to supply padding for the foam pit.

sweets needs... some advice and... to be confronted (that sounds a bit ominous!)

P.S. For all your sweet, chocolatey needs. I promised brownies last week and here they are for you to enjoy. In your mind. 

                           

                           

Sea.

Here is a poem. It is very short. It is not by me (I wish). I love it.

SEA

the sea is so heavy inside us
and i won’t sleep tonight.
i have buckets of memory in a jar
that i keep for days and nights like these.

Mxolisi Nyezwa

© 2000, Mxolisi Nyezwa
From: Song Trials
Publisher: University of Natal Press (Gecko Poetry), South Africa
ISBN: 0 86980 9768

How is that for South African talent? Nyezwa is from the Eastern Cape. He often writes about the sea. One day when I am an employed person I am going to buy his poetry collection, Song Trials.

P.S. I am trying to compile a booklist for next year, when I want to read everything I can get my hands on. Any suggestions would be much appreciated. I usually only read fiction but if there are any non-fiction books that you think I should read then please suggest them too.

Claps for Blighty

                                                             (wikipedia commons).

After all the post love for South Africa going around, I feel I owe England some post love too. After all, it has so graciously hosted me for the last 5 years.

I am not going to mention C-R-I-M-E, because that has SO been done. Obviously it is nice, the low crime rate. Duh.

What I enjoy about living in England:

1) Chocolate digestive biscuits. Even if I couldn't think of any other good things, these little beauties are sufficient reason to live in England. But in a country where a pack of biscuits costs 30p and your average vegetable costs about £1, you can imagine the state of my and the nation's nutrition.

2) The superb public transport system. Ha, I know any locals reading this must be choking on their tea and scones, but it is all relative. Relative to South Africa, the UK has a great public transport system. As in, it actually exists. I simply choose to treat those anomalies such as "No train for 3 hours because of a leaf on the track" as if they do not exist.

 Interestingly, in the googlefight of leaf vs train, train won. Leaves vs train? Train won. Foliage vs train? Train WON. Just SAYING.

3) The weather. Mwahahahahaha, I got you there, didn't I? Didn't I? Huh? Huh? Moving on.

4) Mobility scooters. Everybody here has them. G and I have a bizarre fascination with them. Especially G. He has this dream of turfing  a Granny off her scooter and riding off into the sunset. So far it remains but a dream. I will keep you updated on his quest.

5) The llamas. And alpacas, and other South American beasties. This country has a love affair with these animals. Which is fine by me because I love them too. When I walk north of my house I see alpacas, when I walk south I see guanacos. A person in the next village has 2 llamas in his garden. When I used to take the train to Cambridge every day, a llama used to graze right near the track. I do find myself wondering if I should be learning Spanish and complaining about the gringos that seem to have taken over the place.

6) Accents. It is unbelievable how many distinct accents there are in such a teeny weeny country, and I am just talking England. I love almost all Northern accents, especially Geordie, the Yorkshire variants and Scouse. I also love the South West accent. I have great fun trying to "guess the accent" and getting it horribly wrong. "Um, actually I from Poland. I no speak English." Well, Po-English is the future I will have you know. You read it here first.

There are many more things that are great about this place, but these are the definitive ones. As defined by me.