quiet please this is a library

Today, as on most Fridays, I was forced out of our flat by the neighbour upstairs sharing this week's top 100 hits. While I don't mind a bit of Black Eyed Peas or Lady Gaga, such an environment simply isn't conducive to reading Plato. I reluctantly made my way to the library and settled myself at one of the tables in the magazine/newspaper section. It must have been the time of day because ten minutes later I found myself questioning if I was in the library or if I had mistakenly walked into a pensioners home. An old man came and sat across from me and may have gone unnoticed had he not blatantly lifted his left bum-cheek and simply let rip without a glimpse of shame. As I tried to feign ignorance and focus on Socrates arguing the nature of morality, an argument in my present surroundings caught my attention: a bit of a scuffle had arisen over the Investors Chronicle. The man across from me had the sought-after magazine in his possession, a lady to his left was claiming that she had been looking for it first so it was rightly to come to her next and there was a third gentleman who begrudgingly admitted defeat and said he would just wait his turn. Once a compromise had been reached the arguing man and woman got to chatting to pass the time. Five minutes later a lady in her little knitted hat and cardigan shouted at the two of them, "This is a library and you are not supposed to talk and you have been talking for half an hour!" The response was somewhat defensive but nevertheless the offending couple skulked off to a corner to leave the hatted granny in peace. At this point, the man across from me broke from jotting down investor tips, looked at me and said, "Oh dear, everyone is getting into trouble today. You had better watch out or you'll be next. You'll get into trouble for reading a book instead of reading a newspaper...reading books in the library...how old-fashioned..." He then smiled and continued his reading.
I was just sorry that I usually sit in the study area and miss all of this action. What a great way to pass the afternoon, although I'm not sure how much studying would actually happen.
I reckon I'll probably be a library dwelling granny one day, booking my place in the queue to catch up on the latest news and huffing at those who break the rules. "Quiet please, this is a library..."

country in union

11 February 1990, the day before I turned seven years old, marked a critical turning point in the history of the country I called home. Back then I was too young to realise the significance of a man called Nelson Mandela being released after twenty seven years imprisonment. Today, exactly twenty years later, I do. The reality hits even closer to home when I consider that as of tomorrow, my lifetime to date equates to the same amount of time that Mandela was behind bars.
To mark the occasion we went to watch Invictus, Clint Eastwood’s latest film that details how Mandela used the white South African’s favourite sport, rugby, to unite the nation. Many will know that it doesn’t take much to get me choked up but this film did more than just make me cry – it made me swell with patriotic pride, reminisce about a childhood naive to the instability surrounding me and hope for a nation that has come so much further than most give it credit for.
Five years after his release from prison, Madiba walked onto the rugby pitch at Ellis Park stadium, his typical African shirt replaced by a Springbok rugby jersey, to welcome 62,000 fans to the final of the Rugby World Cup. I was twelve years old at the time but I can remember almost every detail of that match – the Kiwi’s doing the haka, the drop goal that won us the Cup, the final score and the whole team gathering in a circle to pray at the end of the match. I think God knew that the country needed a win and I think he smiled that day. At the time I had no idea what that game represented. I was just happy we won. My friends and I ran down to the main road screaming and shouting, waving our new multi-coloured South African flag at passersby who waved back just as madly, screamed just as loud and beeped their car hooters. Perhaps it impacted me more than I realised. The World in Union anthem ended up being the song I used to walk down the aisle on my wedding day. There was no raucous shouting and cheering, however, for which I am grateful. I see now how extraordinary it was for our nation to set aside their differences for that one day. And a man who had spent most of his life dreaming of such a day, even just for one hundred minutes, got to see the people of his country, regardless of colour, all on the same side, cheering for the same team. That sort of spirit can not be crushed, it is unconquerable, it is invictus.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul
”Invictus”, William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)

musical escape

Maybe it’s just me but do certain songs ever make you feel like you’re in a movie? I’ll be listening to some stirring tune such as Let Go by Frou Frou and suddenly I’m picturing myself being filmed on a train, staring out the window, my expression speaking a thousand words. Then there’s Snow Patrol’s Chocolate that transports me to New York where I’m a high-flying magazine editor, wearing the latest designer fashions and drinking a latte as I stride along the side-walk towards work.
At this point I really hope someone is reading this and agreeing with me otherwise I’m just admitting that I’m a bit of a weirdo.
Music really has the ability to arouse emotion. Like this morning on the bus when the boys on the back seat had the courtesy to share their gangster rap with everyone else on the bus. My emotion = anger. So, to counteract this negativity bubbling into what could potentially have become bus-rage, I shoved my earphones in and pumped up One Republic. It was as if the world disappeared and “all I needed was the air I breathe” = restoration of peace and calm. This city can really get to me with it’s unreliable public transport, delinquent youths and less than desirable weather. However, I’ve found that I can just shut the world off by hitting shuffle on the iPod and I have some of my favourite tunes to reinstate my sanity. So perhaps I’m a bit odd and my methods of distraction are unconventional but as I approach my five year anniversary of my time in this big city, sometimes I just have to do what I have to do to remind me that there is always a bit of good to be found.