Geseende Kersfees!

Ek het hierdie gedig so twee jaar terug geskryf en gee dit graag as kerspersent aan mense na aan my...



Kersgedig



Ons het almal al klaar te veel van als

so hierdie Kersfees

Gee ek jou niks



Niks om te dra nie

Niks wat kan pla nie

Niks waaroor jy my hoef uit te vra nie



Ek gee jou niks



Niks te vertoon nie

Niks te verskoon nie

Niks waarvoor jy my hoef te beloon nie



Ek gee jou



Niks wat kan taan nie

Niks wat bestaan nie

Niks wat jy van my hoef te verstaan nie



Ek gee



Niks te behou nie

Niks toe te vertrou nie

Niks waaraan jy my hoef te onthou nie.



Laat daar niks wees

Close to the real me

Hierdie foto wat Rathla jr. van my geneem het by die drama-aand beskryf my dalk die beste.

ietwat uit fokus

bietjie ver terug in die raampie

effens in die donker

of dalk heeltemal in die duister.

P.S. Ek glimlag darem.

Paper doll

I loved doing her (last year), especially since I really screwed her up at first. She is three pieces of torn paper placed over each other. I had her framed really elaborately in a huge tripple frame and she sold in a flash but I still get to see her sometimes when I go visit the Gillies-Smiths. Would like to experiment more with the texture of paper. And I will as soon as I can get the texture of my daily life a bit smoother...

Abseiling!

Nina, a friend of mine, is an abseiling instructor and invited us to come abseiling in November. Well... I am afraid of heights but I knew that If I wanted Rathla and Franci to go down I would have to just face it and do it. Ian went first, and then Rathla, so I had alot of time to see just how high it was. (The cliff we abseiled down was only about 18 m high, but believe me - it could have been 180m...). Rathla got quite scared which focused my attention on encouraging him to let go of the rope.

When it was my turn I realised that I had to decide whether I was going to trust the ropes because if I don't then what's the point. So I actually really enjoyed it and Nina and I are thinking of doing a programme to empower abused women through my facilitating an inspirational course and then we take them abseiling. Sounds like fun, so we will work on it in the new year when my exams are over.

Poetry and Prose

Our two poetry and prose evenings went well. We presented them at Melon Rouge Restaurant and the staff there were amazing and made us feel like Broadway actresses. We sold out for both evenings and I think the audience loved it because it was not at all this poetry reading - instead we 'played' it all out, moved arround a lot and had lovely music (by Gang of Instrumentals) which gave it a really lively atmosphere

The three of us had loads of fun. I did a Kenyan story - thats why I have all the circles around my eyes. Trudi (in the middle did a sort of an eastern poem and a story by Paolo Koehlo and Sam did this 'Skeleton woman' story which had everybody spellbound. I also did the poem ' Walking away' and on the second night I did get a bit tearfull while doing the poem but everyone said it was amazing (I am sure they just wanted to comfort me) and Sam and Trudi teased me and said that I could become a professional mourner at funerals because I also got a bit choked when I did a speech and a poem in front of a whole lot of women at a fundraiser two weeks ago! Perhaps I should not do serious poems and stick to poems like Humpty Dumpty, but knowing me I will probably start crying when that poor egg falls off the wall...

Some book reviews

Hallo Everyone! Hope you are all well. I am studying for my exams in January, and when I take a break I read - ja, I know its boring. But anyway, here are some reviews of a few really amazing books I have read lately. Enjoy, and if you don't hear from me - it is because I am immersed in Research Methodology... ENJOY! Oh, I also am having a technical problem with loading pics from my camera. All the pics come out with what looks like a 'cartoon' crack over them. And NO! Not only pics of me (can't be that bad, can it!), but of everyone. And we went abseiling and now it will remain a rumour untill I can show you all - I did it! Love S.

P.S Let me know what you think of the books if you read them!

The Shack - William P. Young

This book was given to me by my long lost friend Craig Herd and it is mind blowing. If you have ever wondered how you could be a Christian while expanding your consciousness - this is it. Go read, go figure...


Raka - die Roman - Koos Kombuis

Ongetwyfeld een van die beste boeke wat ek in die afgelope 10 jaar gelees het. Klaar. Net jammer dat die ooms en tannies wat dit eintlik moet lees, die pot dalk sover gaan mis sit dat hulle in die skaapkraal pis. Of die boek dalk nooit lees nie. Ek is bly ek het.


Aidsafari - Adam Levin

This guy has been there - this book is beautifully written, honest, human. I don't know, I cannot quite say what it has done for me, but it has certainly shown me that my puny little fears are to be faced. If one beautiful gay man in Africa can do it then surely so can I - and I am not even faced with the reality of having Aids. But as Adam Levin says: 'The world has AIDS. And if you give a shit about the world, you have it too.'

Happy Birthday

Walking Away

It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day -
A sunny day with the leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new-ruled - since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satelite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away

Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos of a half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be

That hesitant figure, eddying away
like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
Has something I never quite grasp to convey
About nature's give and take - the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire ones irresolute clay.

I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show -
How selfhood begins with a walking away
And love is proved in the letting go

(Cecil Day Lewis)

One of my favourites

I just love this poem by Ruth Miller. I used to read it a lot when I was younger, at varsity, and have sort of forgotten it exept for that last stanza which is so beautifull and haunting that I couldn't help but find myself reciting it from time to time, especially after meeting Ian...

Aspects of Love

I

Green things grow in the wrong places
They unfeather in the emphasis
On noughts in the sum.
Love is no logician
Hears the argument
Blandly, never to profit
by the Socratic method
And puts forth greenness on outlandish stone

II

Love? We should smother it
and push it up the chimney
He said, half meaning it
We know now what he intended
for finding love at their door
on a cold night, people - if they are wise
Will push it up the chimney into the smoke before
It wails at them with such clenched desire
As will bring into the quiet house
The significant ecstatic loss

III

On a high hill in the cold wind
on a sunless day
You brought me a bird seeking to unsay
its vulture moments
Though I was afraid
I felt its warmth undo my startled hand.

(Ruth Miller)

Cubes

I did this one last year when I had got fed up with doing the usual

stuff. She is not one of my favourites but it was nice to experiment a bit and it was fun. Might try it again when I get time to sketch. But probably not before I finish my exams in January...

Drama

Our drama group is having 'poetry and prose' evenings on the 10th and 11th of December. For prose I am going to be reading a thing I have put together from some of Kuki Galman's short stories. Very 'African'.
What poem to do has been a bit of a headache, I first tried some stuff out of 'Heart in Exile' and then I really worked hard on 'The Second Coming' by Yeats. My drama teacher said it suited my voice as it is quite a dark poem. But something just didn't feel right and so that is also not the one I will be doing. I have found the right poem - one that has been very very special to me for quite a long time. And especially this year.

Ja, so if you want to know which one it is then come to the drama evening... (Ja Waldo Pelser, JY ook!)

Geisha

I did her last year and she is hanging at a gallery at the moment, but I really think she is not selling because she wants to be on my wall!

My Hero

This blog is actually not about the kids - they have their own blog and I have a life too (albeit sometimes hard to find!). However, I just couldn't resist these photo's of Ian and Savuti as it so beautifully portray just what a wonderful dad Ian is.

Patience...

I wrote these a few years ago...


Patience I

It looks like
Patience is only learnt
through being given the opportunity
of having to wait for something

the longer the time
you are given
in which to have to wait for something
the greater
(apparently)
the opportunity
for cultivating patience

and the greater the temptation
to get impatient
and the more time to get it in

they give you a lot of rope
so you can hang yourself
or weave a hammock
to wait comfortably in.




Patience II

So
Patience is only learnt
through being given the opportunity
of a long time
in which to have to wait for something

You wait for something
and you wait for something
and it doesn't come
not today,
tomorrow
or the next day

You get tired of waiting
then you wait a bit more
then you get desperately tired of waiting
but you wait
and you wait
and you wait

and then something comes

it is patience.

Muse

Hierdie skets het ek laas jaar gedoen en 'n foto vir 'n paar mense gemail. Sy het baie vinnig verkoop nog voor ek haar kon laat raam en ek was nogal spyt omdat dit 'n kombinasie van my en Hannelie se werk was - die woorde is grepe uit 'n gedig geskryf deur my vriendin Hannelie Hartman:

Vir nou is ek jou muse

Uit gister gebore...

Slaaf, prinses, maagd, kind

Sluier om jou verbeelding

Vat my met jou woorde

Dans my op jou sinne

want vandag is ons lovers
en more het ek nie bestaan nie

want vandag is ons lovers

en more ken jy nie my naam nie.

The File-13 Lady

This is a short sketch I did a while ago. I really did meet such a person. Believe it or not...

I met a woman today. She towered over me (I am tall). She was even taller, very angular, wearing lots of jewellery and very small bright red leather shoes. After a while she poured us some wine and said that we should clink glasses. She said we should look each other in the eye when we clinked or else it would mean seven years of 'bad sex'. She said that we should say 'moerse' every time we clinked glasses. I looked her in the eye, we clunk glasses, I remembered just in time to say 'moerse' and I and thanked my stars we were not on a ship.

She looked at my feet over the rim of her glasses over the rim of her wine glass. I was barefoot and she said that it is right that I am not wearing shoes and that if one is not going to be wearing red leather veldskoens one ought not to be wearing shoes at all.

She told me that she filed people. I think she meant that she does filing for people, but I'm not sure. She said that she called her customers 'filings'. Then she gave me her bussiness card. I don't know what to do with it. File it or something I suppose. But I am not good at that sort of thing and I dont know what to file her under. People do that to one sometimes. The harder you try to forget them the more you remember them because there they are - occupying space in your wallet, together with the photograph of your husband and kids - just because you don't know what else to do with them.

Bikes

Ian and I attended art classes for a year in 2002. We got taken through all the media and each time our teacher assigned us a task such as faces to be done in graphite etc. When we got to pastel she told us to go and draw anything shiny. Well, everyone else in the class did copper kettles and cutlery and stuff. We decided not to go that way and each drew a piture of part of a motorcycle. I did the front part of a Harley and it sold very quickly. Ian and I were not doing too well finacially then, so I started doing commisioned art works of people's Harley Davidson motorbikes. This helped to put the bread on the table for quite a few years. I haven't done any bike art for a while. I did this bike on the photo in 2004 with Cheti litterally on my hip all the time once when we were visiting my dad for a while. I intended to use it for marketing, but then I got a bit gatvol of the bikes and stopped doing them. I recently took this one to a gallery nearby as I didn't want it to get ruined here at home and I have had quite a lot of interest in doing some commisions again. Doing the bikes are tough on the eyes as it is very fine work (I use a magnifying glass for some parts), but I love it and the money is good, so all in all worth my while.

Sketse en digkuns

Ek doen figuurstudies in grafiet met grepe uit my eie of ander se digkuns daarby. Hier is een wat ek laas jaar gedoen het, sy was een van my gunstelinge, maar het ongelukkig/gelukkig baie vinnig verkoop.

Ek noem haar 'die boomvrou' en Die woorde by haar is uit 'n gedig deur Jeane Goosen. Ek hou baie van haar werk. Ek het 'n besonderse gevoel vir bome. Ek dink nie ek sal lekker aard op 'n plek sonder bome nie.

Ek wil verby littekens en woorde groei

ek wil 'n boom wees

een in 'n ry eenderse bome

'n boom sonder woorde

veral sonder woorde ja

Wit Lig

Hierdie is 'n gedig wat ek geskryf het vir ons boekklub se 'poetry evening'. (Dis nou iets anders as die drama klas se 'poetry evening' waaroor ek vroeer geskryf het, dit kom nog maar daarvoor hoef ek darm nie self te skryf nie!)

Dis nogal bietjie ingewikkeld om te verduidelik hoe dit gewerk het want dit was 'n nogal driedimensionele affere. Of so het ek gehoop! Ek het die gedig op 'n ronde stuk karton geskryf met 'n gat in die middel waardeur ek 'n pen gedruk het. Die gedig het van die rand van die papier af ingespiraal. Ek het begin deur dit teen 'n baie stadige tempo te lees en toe al vinniger, terwyl ek die skyf in die rondte draai. Vanaf 'staan jy verstom' het ek uit my kop opgese, die disk na die gehoor gedraai, al stadiger gelees en die disk al vinniger laat spin tot al die woorde net ge'blur' het. (moenie worry as julle niks hiervan verstaan nie, ek sal dit sommer vir julle opvoer ok?)

ok, ok, ek kon dit nie so vinnig draai dat dit net wit lig is nie, en boonop was dit nogal donker, maar almal het darem vir my hande geklap. (hulle was dalk net bly die onverstaanbare petalje is op 'n einde!) Maar hier is die gedig. Onthou nou dit is in die rondte geskryf eintlik...

Wit Lig

Ons stap die pad
Ons dink ons weet
Waarheen ons gaan
Ons glo
Ons word die pad gewys
So nou draf ons aan - ons moet - hoe anders dan?
Ons is mos verseker ons kom heel aan die anderkant aan

Nog net een dag
Nog net een job
Nog net een deal
Nog net een kans
vir daai groot-groot slag wat jy wil slaan

Nog net een nag
van deurnagdinkendoenendan
staan jy verstom
wanneer dit lyk
of als
in 'n waas
verby jou gaan.

Poetry

Hierdie is uit 'The heart in exile'. Ek soek iets om voor te lees vir my drama klas se 'poetry' aand by 'n kunskafee. Maar sover se Sam, my drama teacher, dat alles wat ek kies te 'oud en donker' (!) is. More sal ek hierdie twee saamvat en hoor...

Home Thoughts - Mark Swift

There is no road home
for home is where the heart is
We are
voyagers, we carry
our journeys within us. Privateers,
we run before a fickle wind.
Each day defines a course; its fixed
imperative. Out on the jet
streams, adrift for days, we navigate
the tide-bound globe. We are all
Columbus, quaffing
sour water under creaking stars
till moonfall.

I fly, as unerring
as a bird, between two departures.
One lies
dark, skeletal; the other is verdant,
a wildness of birds and gunfire.
With renegades
from every corner of the shrinking
world, I discuss, duty free,
the love of distant friends,
the lure of the sun
and the arid wines of another place. We share
the east, the south; go west
before closing time.
Far above, on migratory trails,
the gypsies at heart
fly home and away.


Still feeling - Ian Tromp

Things change, shift
immeasurably, immensely.
Remain the same

That after all is the all
of it:setting out early
to find the way back
to where we are

*

The body is far wiser
than the brain, it makes
its home where it finds itself
thinks less of exile

it is a shell held
to the sea that speaks
its own endlessness

*

Turn loss to a hard small
stone in the palm of your hand
clasp it till it breaks


your skin

Al my goeters.

Ek sal hierdie spasie gebruik om te skryf oor die goed wat ek doen, al gedoen het en nog wil doen. Vir wie dit ookal wil lees. (Dalk net ekself!). Ek gaan die adres vir niemand gee nie, sal dit darm 'link' op die kinders se blog, want as 'n boom nou sou val in 'n woud julle weet...
Anyway. Ek het so 'n paar goed wat ek doen en ek sal oor hulle skryf hier.
Ek bestuur 'n projek. Masakhane. Dis 'n gemeenskapsontwikkelingsprojek. Nee, ek dink nie ek kan die wereld red nie. Of dit selfs 'n beter plek maak nie. Party dae op my projek dink ek ek doen die mense meer skade as goed aan. Wat anders doen jy as jy mense leer lees en skryf en wys hoe om iets te maak sodat hulle skills het om geld mee te maak sodat hulle ook aan die 'American Dream' kan deelneem? Dan, sodra hulle nie meer die hele tyd dink aan waar die volgende kos vandaan gaan kom nie, kan hulle ook begin droom daarvan om skuld te maak by Lubners en Bears en wie weet waar anders mens daardie aaklige 'bedroom suites' en porseleinornamente kan koop.

Ek word darem betaal vir my werk op die projek. Ek dink dit sou oneties wees vir my om so iets verniet te doen. Ek glo nie in al daardie 'doen goeie dade' nie. Ek dink mense wat die hele dag in 'n sink-dorpie vol hoendepoef en boepens-snotneuskinders in die stof werk en dan huis toe gaan en voel hulle is nou 'goed' is dalk 'in touch' met entiteite wat ek nog nie raakgeloop het nie, of hulle is 'uit touch' met realiteit, of albei. Of dalk is ek?

Ek hou van my werk op my projek. Ek hou daarvan om vir ure en ure meetings te he oor hoenders wat gesteel is en die waterlorrie se brieke wat nie werk nie en om op die grond te sit en goed met 'n stok in die sand te teken ter verduideliking. If all of life is indeed a waste of time, dan is hierdie hoe ek my tyd die lekkerste mors.

Wat dink jy?