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Archive for the ‘Afrikaans’ Category

herfsblare

English Readers: my poem about Autumn in November. In the Southern Hemisphere, Autumn is not in November, but in March/April.

Hierdie gedig is my jaarlikse bydrae tot Afrikaans, wat ek tot dusver  14 Augustus probeer doen het – wanneer dit Taaldag. Ek’s so bietjie laat daarmee hierdie jaar, maar liewer laat as nooit. 

Herfs in November

Herfs in November – in die Noorde – 
is soos roomys in die winter. Dit pas nie.

Jy loop rond in stofverwaaide strate
Onverskillig kyk jy rond na
‘n mengelmoes van kleure
Bondels hare waai rond in die wind
En om hoeke van geboue fluit ‘n skerp windjie
Beelde van veranderinge flits om jou verby
Verslawend staar jy na bloedrooi papawers
En jy onthou: dis November maand!

Soms onthou jy ook van die fyn blomme
en die spruit wat iewers voort bly kabbel
in die berge waar die bobbejane geel perskes vreet
Dan dink jy aan die bloekombome en vinke in die lusernland
Vae gedagtes van die kleigat drentel in jou geheue
En jy strompel geduldig verder oor verkleurde blare
En wonder oor die liedjies van die lente.

Versperde donker wolke hang laag in die skemeraand
Dikgeweefde herinneringe van die aandkrieke wat
hul betowerende liedjies op vioolnote sing
sink en omvou onmiddellik jou gedagtes.
In die agterkamers van jou geheue
onthou jy die rooskleurige grassade wat buig in die wind
en skielik hoor jy die swaeltjies se twitter terwyl hulle
die lang, moeilike vlug terug huistoe neem.
©Nikita 22-11-2019 19:10

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Afrikaans explained

Stats from the video

Afrikaans_opressed

Afrikaans language oppressed by the British.

Afrikaans muslims

Some news for you!

Afrikaans11

Love this!

Afrikaans vlag

Enjoy this video. Afrikaans is so (almost) Dutch.

In this video: If you don’t understand Afrikaans- this is a lady who doesn’t understand this ‘made-up’ language the guy in the car is speaking. Then, she realises he’s Afrikaans too. Her language is Afrikaans (and she’s not white!).

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This is precious. This male person pretends to speak a foreign language and the lady doesn’t understand him. She keeps on trying to figure out what he wants. So she asks him to speak Afrikaans – or… okay, I won’t repeat her words at the end… Afrikaans speaking people will really love this video. In South Africa, there’s more than 6 million people speaking Afrikaans – and they are from difference races. 

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sa

This is one of my own poems. It is a cento. A cento is a poem written using other author’s lines or passages. This ‘cento’ though has been written using my own poems. The poems I used are all from my Afrikaans poems. I do write English too, but as I said before, it’s just playing with words. I don’t try to be professional. I decided a few years ago to do my ‘bit’ for Afrikaans on the 14th August every year. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen last year and I couldn’t let another year go by without having one on this day! This is the history behind the 14th August.

The Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners (Afrikaans for “Society of Real Afrikaners”) was formed on 14 August 1875 in the town of Paarl by a group of Afrikaans speakers from the current Western Cape region. From 15 January 1876 the society published a journal in Afrikaans called Die Afrikaanse Patriot (“The Afrikaans Patriot”) as well as a number of books, including grammars, dictionaries, religious material and histories. Die Afrikaanse Patriot was succeeded in 1905 by today’s Paarl newspaper. You can read more about this Society on this link on the site of Wikipedia.

If you are Afrikaans,  I hope you enjoy these couple of lines.

seagold-

My siel op haelwit wolke

In gietende reën sypel my gedagtes: eindloos!
Ek stuur vir jou die goud
van sondeurdrenkte landskappe
in die galery van my stille gemoed.
My opgevoude gedagtes steek vas
en onderhou my geheue
wat onvermydelik verstrengel is
en soos gister
vind jy my siel op haelwit wolke;
my gedagtes wentel om die aura van my taal
en rol ragfyn ligstraaltjies voor my uit:
wat die tuimelende bergstilte
laat rol oor die dansende blou waters
na die holtes van my gedagtes.

==Nikita 14/08/2015 


Mantovani is one of my real big favourites. On this video you’ll find a whole library of his music to keep you company. I hope you enjoy!

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you would know that I do play chess myself too. I’ve blogged quite a few chess games in the past. This is one of my most recent chess games on chess.com Time is little to play rated chess games and I was tricked into this game, but managed to escape the worst. Rated games involve more concentration and I tend to play friendlies just for fun and I feel I can ‘escape’ or shut down from normal work and enjoy the game. 

chesscom
I like how I managed to checkmate my opponent, though he was very close to checkmate me! I played white in this game – not my favourite colour, as I discovered I play better games when I play black. If you are interested, please click here to play through the game. If you are a chess player yourself, please feel free to leave a comment and Dan, if you read here, you might want to analyse my game…hehe.

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boerwar_concentration_camps

Picture from FB: Mother with her dead child – Boer War: Concentration camps. I was so shocked when I saw this picture. How this mother must have felt and the poor little kids. This is what went through my mind:

The camp
White tents like white ant hills.
Strange, awkward stenches fill the war-torn air
Weak, though proud, with no disinfectant
Sitting around in poverty: deprived!
Waiting for food. Waiting for water.
Humiliation. Disgrace. Filth.
Dead bodies carried along white rows
They don’t care, they don’t think!
They can’t think. They  just kill!
The pain inside: it cuts deep, very deep.
No sound. No breath. No life.
No words. No food. Only thoughts.
Only thoughts. Only Blue vitriol.
Children crying, children dying

Hunger screams, hunger wails
Endless waiting.  Timeless prayers.
Shock. Horror. Pain.
Forgotten lives.
Panic. Fright. Terror.
God! My child is dead!
Footsteps. No words.
Empty arms. Eyes watching.
Not my child!
Patience because:
‘Another seepkissie will arrive soon.’
Silence.

Nikita 22/8/2013

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SONY DSC

image:kerkbode.co.za

‘n Lewe verkort

Die beklemmende gedagte:
onbewustelik ‘n verbintenis
stigmatisering, diskriminered,
wraaksugtig, miskennend
onbeskermd…

‘n Lewe verkort

In die binneste
van jou siel:
jou fisieke, jou psige
vasgevang – die vrees
vasgeknoop – die woede

Ingelaat en toegelaat,
onbeplan, ongenaakbaar
grusaam en gruwelooslik
deurboor dit jou vlees.

Sirkelend alom jou siel:
geregtigheid, regverdigheid
melaatsheid en dilemmas
lugleegtes van pleidooie.

Slagoffer van die dood.

++Nikita++ 18/8/2013

Nadat ‘n blogleser, Azile, op hierdie link ‘n versoek gerig het, het ek ‘gehoor’ gegee. Sy het gevra vir ‘n gedig oor ‘Vigs’, in Afriaans. Wel, soos almal teen hierdie tyd weet – dat ek nie ‘n professionele digter is nie, en ek  wou my ook nie laat afsit deur hierdie doktor na wie ‘Brieweuitdievreemde‘ verwys nie- hoop ek die geskribbel maak vir jou sin. Dus, as jy ‘n professionele digter is – of kenner van Afrikaans – lees asseblief met ‘ander‘ ogies na hierdie ‘geskribbel’. Vir die dokters wil ek graag sê: Spandeer jul etenstye deur Opperman se Groot Verseboek en Verswêreld   te lees. Alhoewel daar ‘n paar ‘moderne‘ byvoegings in Verswêreld is wat ek nie dink daar behoort te wees nie – my opinie. ‘n Ander vraag: Hoe word ‘n Eugene Marais prys toegeken aan ‘n digter wat sy taal meng, dan nog ook erg  onsmaaklike Afrikaanse woorde in sy gedigte inwerk? Yuk! Wat sou EMarais daarvan gedink het? <sug, watter tipe beoordeelaars het ons in Afrikaans vandag? Red Afrikaans….iemand, asseblief>

English readers: I was asked by Azile, on the above link for an Afrikaans poem about Aids, this is what this entry is about.

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Die Beiteltjie
Ek kry ’n klein klein beiteltjie,
ek tik hom en hy klink;
toe slyp ek en ek slyp hom
totdat hy klink en blink.
Ek sit ’n klippie op ’n rots:
– mens moet jou vergewis:
’n beitel moet kan klip breek
as hy ’n beitel is –
ek slaat hom met my beiteltjie
en dié was sterk genoeg:
daar spring die klippie stukkend
so skoon soos langs ’n voeg:
toe, onder my tien vingers bars
die grys rots middeldeur
en langs my voete voel ek
die sagte aarde skeur,
die donker naat loop deur my land
en kloof hom wortel toe –
só moet ’n beitel slaan
wat beitel is, of hoé?
Dan, met twee goue afgronde
val die planeet aan twee
en oor die kranse, kokend,
verdwyn die vlak groen see
…from the day I see the night
far beyond opening up
within a crack that from my chisel
runs through to the stars
en op die dag sien ek die nag
daar anderkant gaan oop
met ’n bars wat van my beitel af
dwarsdeur die sterre loop
Klik die link vir NP van Wyk Louw huldeblyk-dokument.

Van Wyk Louw – one of the most distinguised Afrikaans poets– I agree with Breyten Breytenbach. ‘The chisel, a metaphor for the poetic word – splits a stone, then the rock under the stone, then the earth beneath the rock, then the poet’s country, then the planet, until… 

…from the day I see the night
far beyond opening up
within a crack that from my chisel
runs through to the stars [Breytenbach]

Lees HIER ‘n breedvoerige verduidelik oor Die Beiteltjie op Oulitnet.

‘n Pragtige gedig – In die dokument verskyn heelwat feite en inligting oor van Wyk Louw. Ek het ook Cecile Cilliers se artikel raakgelees op die internet en kan met haar  en van Wyk Louw saamstem met: ‘n Donker naat loop deur my land. 

b85f486352d8411f8c8d6afb2762989f

Verward deur die donker naat van ons geweld

2013-02-18 22:52

Cecile Cilliers

Die donker naat loop deur my land / en kloof hom wortel toe – Dít is die eerste twee versreëls van die vierde strofe van N.P. van Wyk Louw se “Die Beiteltjie”, waarskynlik een van die bekendste gedigte in die Afrikaanse letterkunde. Dit word vertel, of miskien het hy dit self in Rondom eie werk vertel, dat die gedig volledig een Kaapse oggend na hom gekom het. Hy was te voet op pad universiteit toe, toe die woorde plotseling in sy kop verskyn. Agter sy lessenaar het hy dit heel en in sy geheel neergeskryf.

Die eenvoud van die gedig ten spyt, laat hy hom nie maklik verklaar nie. Die beiteltjie dui glo op die woord en die mag van taal – meer as wat dit vir die swaard moontlik is, kan dit wêrelde verander. Maar die gevare wat taal inhou, bly nie uit nie.

Daardie versreël, die eerste reël van die rubriek, bly die hele week in my kop dreun: die donker naat loop deur my land…

Ek raak stram om te lag, staan verward, verneder en gedeprimeer deur die donker naat van geweld wat deur my land loop, en wat besig is om gesinne, families, gemeenskappe, uit mekaar te ruk. Is dít wat van ons geword het?

Amalie bel uit Amerika: Mamma, wat gaan aan? Op elke voorblad, The New York Times, The Philadelphia Inquirer, USA TODAY, word die gewelddadigheid van Suid-Afrika uitgebasuin.

In 1994 nog die liefling van die wêreld, 20 jaar later opnuut die muishond. Natuurlik is daar ’n yslike hap leedvermaak. Net soos ons leedvermakerig vertel het van die bloeddorstige skietery in die VSA, van die verskrikking van die busverkragting in Indië.

Maar met of sonder die veroordelende woorde van die buitelandse verslaggewers – tot van Fidji het hulle glo gekom – het dit tyd geword dat ons lank en eerlik en ondersoekend na onsself en na ons gemeenskappe kyk. Sonder die gewone skindernuus. Want elkeen het ’n eiertjie te lê, ’n stuiwer in die armbeurs te gooi, of dit nou die dood  an Anene of van Reeva is, ons práát daaroor. Ons praat ja, blý praat, maar wat dóén ons?

Hoeveel sulke berigte, hoeveel sulke stories kan ’n volk se psige verduur voordat dit gewoon aan die werklikheid onttrek? Of erger nog, mettertyd alles gewoond word, hoe grusaam ook al? Is ons dan nie bereid om verantwoordelikheid vir ons land te aanvaar nie?

Tydens die apartheidsjare is daar groepe gevorm – Vroue vir Vrede, Kontak, Black Sash, Vroue vir Geregtigheid – wat daadwerklik vir ’n nuwe, beter Suid-Afrika gewerk het. Moet dit nie maar weer gebeur nie? Kán dit weer gebeur?

Soms vrees ek geweld het in ons bloed kom sit, eie geword aan ons mense en ons land. En dit kloof hom wortel toe.

In die wit nag bid ek saam met Dawid: Laat my weer blydskap en vreugde belewe…

beeld.com/Rubrieke/CecileCilliers/Verward-deur-die-donker-naat-van-ons-geweld-20130218

Hier is ‘n Engelse vertaling deur Uys Krige en Jack
Cope van “Die Beiteltjie.”

         THE LITTLE CHISEL

Here in my hands a small cold-chisel,
I tap it and it rings;
and I hone it and I stone it
until its bright edge sings.

I prop a pebble on a rock;
 –  you’ve got to get this clear:
a chisel that’s a real cold-chisel
can crack a boulder sheer –

I slam it with my chisel edge,
its toughness is a gift:
straight the pebble flies apart
as clean as on a rift:

next, under my ten fingers split,
the granite rock divides,
below my feet I start to feel
the softened earth subside,

and dark the seam runs through my land
and cleaves it to the core –
so a chisel cuts that truly is
a chisel, or what’s it for?

Then with two gold-red chasms
the planet falls in two
and down the rockfalls boiling,
drains the ocean flat and blue

and in the day I see the night
below me open far
with a crack that from my chisel blow
runs to the furthest star

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boemelaar

anzelgerber.wordpress.com/2012/05/03/boemelaar-n-storie-wat-ek-net-moes-oorvertel

Ek het vanoggend weer bewus geraak van ‘n 2007-inskrywing, nadat ek gesien het dat die inskrywing ‘n hele paar ‘besoekers’ gehad het. Dis ‘n gedig wat ek in die vroeë tagtigs geskryf het na aanleiding van ‘n kort verhaal wat in een van die plaaslike tydskrifte gepubliseer was. My prentjie by die inskrywing het ‘verlore’ geraak en met ‘n google-soektog, het ek hierdie verhaal gekry en daar en dan besluit dit moet ook ‘n ‘gedig’ kry. Hier is ‘n nog ‘n gedig by die verhaal wat ek so pas gevind het. Ek hoop jy hou daarvan. Lees eers die verhaal – dis nogal ‘n storie wat jou ‘vang’. Ek het dit geniet.

‘n Vreemde slenter langsaam verby
hare in toutjies en slierte opgerol
moeë plooie, oë op skrefies  teen die skerp sonstrale
stadig krap-krap hy my gedagtegang rond.

Herkenbare momente, oomblikke van draai en wag
opflikkerende name en tasbare gevoelens
met onbeantwoorde sugte – vir later.

Momentum, metaal, glas en splinters
bewegende kreune, die oë van vervloeë
sirenes, histerie, skerper en slegter
oë wat vervaag, verdwyn in die niet
my binneste word stil…

[nikita-18/2/2013]

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winter (1)
Picture: ecopreneurist.com

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

This entry is basically meant to be in Afrikaans – only.
What you see in this picture, is what almost hit me in my face about two weeks ago. I was travelling on a road and when driving round a bend, this popped up in my face. Barrels of numbness washed over me, as I watched in awe and admiration, wishing I could sit on a bench and just enjoy the scene for hours without end. Everything was just so… white! I then realised that Winter is also ‘special’.

Winter

Nou lê die aarde nagtelang en week
in die donker stil genade van die reën,
en skemer huise en takke daeliks bleek
deur die wit mistigheid en suising heen.
Dis alles ryk en rustig van die swaar
geheime wasdom wat sy paaie vind
deur warm aarde na elke skeut en blaar,
en ver en naby alles duister bind
in vog en vrugbaarheid en groot verlange;
tot ons ’n helder middag skielik sien
die gras blink, en die jong graan teen die hange,
en weet dat alle rus die lewe dien:
hoe kon ek dink dat somer ryker is
as hierdie groei se stil geheimenis?
-N P van Wyk Louw

Winter is koud. Winter is naar en ongenaakbaar, maar dan is daar ook ‘n misterieuse ‘stilte’ rondom Winter. Winter laat my soms dink aan ‘n gesprek wat jy met jouself het. Winter laat my dink, beplan – of soms herbeplan. Ek dink Winter probeer iets doen, maar is nie seker hoe om dit te doen nie, daarom verkies hy om in ‘stilte’  dinge te doen. Hy bekruip jou en ‘pynig’ jou met sy koue. Winter is soos ‘n ‘boelie’ wat mooi is, so mooi dat jy hom vergewe dat hy jou ‘boelie’. Geniet die Winter – as jy in ‘n land is waar dit nou Winter is! Geniet die sonskyn waar jy nou Somer het! Geniet die liedjie van Johan van der Watt: Straatfluitjie wat so bietjie ‘warmte’ gee met sy pragtige stem.

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English readers: please slide down for a short version

Hierdie foto was jaaa-re gelede geneem, ek dink ek was 15-16 gewees het. Ek het ‘n ou kodak-kamera gehad – wat ek gekry het vir ‘n staptoer in die Drakensberge. [Die inskrywing daaroor is iewers op my blog.] Daar het my voorliefde vir fotografie begin – later was ‘n beter kamera -‘n Chinon – as geskenk deur ‘n boyfriend vir my gegee, maar ongelukkig was tyd vir ‘n fotografiekursus bitter min op daardie stadium- as gevolg van studies. Terug by die plaas: Iemand het nou die dag gevra dat meer plaasstories vertel moet word. As jy op ‘n plaas groot geword het, sal jy weet dat dit net onmoontlik is om los te trek en blah! daar’s alles soos ‘n bord kos wat opgedien word. Daar’s net heeltemal te veel en daar is ‘n sekere ‘iets’ wat jou gedagtegang prikkel en jy dan weer iets spesifieks onthou – iets wat miskien beter in jou geheue ingeprent is as meeste ander dinge wat in die normale gang van sake op ‘n plaas gebeur. Ek was besig om deur ritse en ritse foto’s te gaan – letterlik honderde en die einde is nog niet in sig! – toe ek dié foto van die eende sien. Hoeveel memories hierdie opgebring het, is onbeskryflik. Soveel het deur my gedagtes geflits. Selfs die makoue wat ons gehad het, het by my opgekom. Hoe ek daardie makoue eintlik verpes het, is moeilik om hier te beskryf. Ek was glad nie lief vir hulle nie. Hulle het sommer oral geblerts en ja, selfs as plaaskind kon ek nie hulle blertse verdra nie. As ek reg onthou, het dit gestink! [lol] Tot vandag het ek nie veel respek vir ‘n makou nie. [hehe] Meer spesiaal was die eende! Hulle was vir my móói! En nuuskierig! Hulle het meer persoonlikheid gehad as die makoue. Dit moet seker wees waarom ek ook nie van die makoue gehou het nie. Soggens vroeg, die son was skaars hoog, dan het hierdie groepie eende aangewaggel gekom, van waar hulle geslaap het, mooi netjies in ‘n ry. Terloops, niemand het hulle geleer om in ‘n ry te stap nie, ons diere was nie ‘afgerig’ nie…lol. Sodra eend nr 1 doodstil gestaan het – vir watter rede ookal, het die hele ry gaan doodstil staan! Hulle paadjie het by die plaashuis begin, by die hokke wat sowat 200m vanaf die huis was. Al langs die huis, met die lukwartboom direk langs die huis, het hul gestap, reguit hek toe. Die roete tot by die hek was seker om en by 250m. Sou die hek toe wees, het hulle sommer deur ‘n opening, links van die hek gegaan – wat groot genoeg was – en dan op die kant van die pad afgestap – ‘n verdere 20-30m. Die pad – vir die motors – het direk by ons hek verby gekom, letterlik! Die eende het geweet waar hulle moes oorgaan om by die dam uit te kom, wat amper regoor die hek was. Stadig langs die kant het hulle afgestap, seker gemaak dat almal in die ry was. Dan het die groot oorgaan begin. Wat opvallend was, was dat hulle vir mekaar gewag het om oor die pad te gaan! As eend A anderkant was, het hy/sy stilgestaan tot eend B oorkant was ens. Dit was komieklik-oulik. Met almal oor die pad, het die aanwaggel na die heining-deurgaanpunt begin. Dieselfde storie. Deurgaan en wag. Daarna: reguit dam toe en in die water met ‘n groot geraas. Die hele roete deur was daar deurentyd ‘n gedempte eend-gesels gewees, maar die minuut wat hulle in die water gegaan het, was dit ‘n groot geraas wat onmiddellik weer bedaar het. Vir ure en ure het hulle op die dam rondgeswem, afgeduik vir kos en weer opgewip gekom. Soms op die water gedryf en dit net geniet om rond te kyk. As hulle gelukkig was, het ons hulle bederf met mielies deur dit in die water vir hulle te gooi, wat byna pandemonium veroorskaak het. Doringbome neffens die dam het heerlike koelte voorsien vir tye wat dit bietjie warm geword het. Saans was dit dieselfde ritueel terug huistoe. Hierdie foto het my sommer die blues gegee! Update: Google maps gebruik om die plaas op te spoor!

This photo was taken when I was about 15-16 – on the farm where I grew up. We had a variety of farm animals. These ducks were a treat. They were beautiful and curious! This photo brought back many sweet memories from the time on the farm. Early morning, before Father Sun was too high up in the sky, they took the route to the dam. They waited for one another on the other side of the road, as they were crossing the dusty road. It was fun watching them as they were waddling all the way to the dam, even watching them crossing the road was entertaining. They crossed the road, waiting for the next duck before they moved slightly higher up the steep ‘duck’-path to make space for each other, before they all entered the water with a very loud quak quak! This photo gave me the blues!

This is from Google-maps – see the green arrow – that is the dam [the dark spot] -click the image for a larger view

Please click the image for a larger view – On this image I’ve zoomed out – yellow spots where I spent hours in the mountains, blue – water/river – light brown [very light – you can see it when the image is large] lines: small footpaths in the mountains

Enjoy the song – Kentucky Blues – by Lauren Copley

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image:weatherphotos.org

This is a rough translation of my Afrikaans poem, which I wrote first and James, a blog reader asked then to ‘translate; -so here goes:

Folded memories
Slowly and quietly,
in pouring rain –
my mind seeped: endless!
in the nuances of silent calls
to dust-loaded, plastered
and mutilated places.
Dusted images commuted by
my folded thoughts –
that voluntarily escaped
a Hillbrow of yesteryear
—nikita-

Opgevoude herinneringe
Traag en stilweg,
in gietende reën –
sypel my gedagtes: eindloos!
in nuanses van stille gesprekke
na stofbelaaide, toegepleisterde
en verminkte plekke.
Afgestofde beelde pendel deur
my opgevoude gedagtes –
wat onwillekeurig onstnap
na ‘n Hillbrow van vervloë

–nikita – 14/7/2012 – en ja, ek is die blogeienaar, nie soos iemand op
twitter
gedink het dat ‘nikita‘ ‘n ander persoon is [nogal ‘n digter wat welbekend is] wie se gedigte hier neergeplak word nie. [lol] Sien die twitter-gesprekke op die link.
Hierdie inskrywing oor Hillbrow was die inspirasie vir hierdie gegriffel. Nadat ek die inskrywing gemaak het, moes ek net iets in die vorm van wat hier is, skryf. Miskien eerder die paar woorde in plaas van die inskrywing! Hoe ookal, dis die gedagtes wat ek van ontslae wou raak, sodat ‘n ander reis onderneem kon word. 

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If you read my blog regularly, you will know that I do write my own poems from time to time….here’s another – but in Afrikaans.

Ek stuur jou die goud
oor die dansende blou waters
nie die koue hartelose soort,
maar die goud van ‘n herfsblaar
malend oor ‘n golwende terras
wat ‘n helder skynsel nalaat:
kontrasterend teen die skemer

Ek stuur jou die goud
van ‘n vertroueling met die warmte:
warmte van ‘n spinnende vlam van vuur
wat jou alkant omsingel en dié
van ‘n liefdevolle glimlag
wat jou las sal verlig
en jou plesier sal verskaf

Ek stuur vir jou die goud
van ‘n laatmiddag sonsondergang
langdurig en langsamerhand
die warmligte aanraking
van die strale wat jou deurboor:
laag vir laag tot in jou siel

Ek stuur jou die goud
van goue vonkelende wense en geluk
alhoewel ek nie fisies daar is,
maar my gedagtes wel, wat nooit verwelk:
my gedagtes, altyd aan jou sy!
Ek stuur vir jou die goud!
–Nikita 19:00 17/03/2012

Carol Burnett: Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own.

A blogreader thought this poem was written by Annesu de Vos and she had replied to Kim’s tweets. Wow, great to see what Annesu thought about a poem I’ve written. I don’t see myself as a poet or professional, but I’m still impressed with her comments.

Ek is bly om te sien dat sommige mense my gedigte geniet EN erkenning gee daaraan. Nie soos sommige ander mense op die internet wat dink dis OKAY om ander se gedigte te kopieer en GEEN erkenning te gee nie!

https://radio-eendrag.page.tl/Gedigte.htm

 


Enjoy the song by Eva Cassidy – Fields of gold

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Kersfees1

Image:Click HERE to view the beautiful image on Redbubble.


This is the very first Afrikaans Christmas song – composed in the Southern Hemisphere! ‘SomersKersfees’ – [Summer Christmas] as sung by the Vienna Boys’ Choir

2012- To all blog readers: GESEëNDE KERSFEES!! – Merry Christmas and have a happy New Year! 

2012 update: I have a couple of people who searched the past few days for the ‘Afrikaans for Merry Christmas’ and found my blog via their search engine terms. So, I’ve thought to add more Afrikaans to this entry.

Kersgroete aan almal! Gelukkige Kersfees! Geseënde Kersfees en Voorspoedige Nuwe Jaar! Seasons Greetings to all! Merry Christmas

Enjoy this video of my 2008 entry and the song by John Lennon.

Thank you to Dan, my old chess friend from the USA, for this beautiful e-card he’s sent me via greetingcards [2011]

merrychristmas1

Thank you to Dan, once again, for his 2012 e-card sent via Greetings123 

Thank you to my blog-friend: Norrbu for this beautiful card he’s sent me with a very special message! We’ve been blog-friends for about 4 years now. -2011

I had the priviledge to see Bob Fitts live in South Africa. I loved this song of him.

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Namibia: Goanikontes Oasis – Foto – deur my nig op FB!

Ek is gek oor windpompe – eintlik enige iets wat ‘plaas’ is. Ek is oorspronklik ‘vanaf die plaas’ en heg ek groot waarde aan dinge wat my aan die plaas-dae herinner. Ek [dis my persoonlike opinie!] glo dat mense wat op ‘n plaas groot geword het, kyk op ander maniere na dinge/lewe – dit is ook my persoonlike ervaring!  Jy waardeer dinge op maniere wat ander mense soms nie verstaan of moeilik vind om te verstaan. Dit laat my ook dink aan Langenhoven se gesegde: slegs as jy met kerslig groot geword het, weet jy wat liefde is. Natuurlik bedoel hy liefde in die ‘ander’ sin van die woord. Ons almal weet wat ‘normale’ liefde is. Ek het vandag so bietjie op FB weer gaan inloer en daar kry ek vir Johan van der Watt waar hy so pas Sypaadjiemense op sy FB bladsy geplaas het. – sien my Afrikaanse digters bladsy vir sy liedjie: Sypaadjie mense [ook ‘n inskrywing iewers op my blog, waarop hy afgekom het!] Hy was die kunsonderwyser by my Hoërskool en ook in St8 my Voogonderwyser. Hy is ook ‘n spotprent-tekenaar en baie van sy spotprente verskyn in die Beeld – en verseker ander koerante ook. Ek is toevallig ook op ‘Soundcloud‘ geregistreer en kry toe sy ander baie mooi liedjies wat ek hier plaas. Windpompliedjie het my ook dadelik getrek – hoe dan anders! Die twee foto’s in die inskrywing is van ‘n niggie van my wat graag rondtoer wanneer sy die geleentheid kry. Ek weet sy sal nie omgee dat ek die foto’s by haar ‘geleen’ het nie. Die onderste foto het ek so bietjie ‘gesny’ om te fokus op dit wat ek wou hê. Op Johann se profiel was daar ook ander sangers waarna ek geluister het en die laaste liedjie is ook ‘n liedjie wat my aandag getrek het. Geniet dit saam met my!

Knysna-omgewing – B&B – foto: ook ‘n foto van my nig op FB.

Johann met My Môreland

Die liedjie is deur Emile Minnie: Sandkasteel

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Eendag was daar drie baie gelukkige katte wat met Juffrou Mollie Smit gewoon het. Op ‘n dag was gryskat bitter ongelukkig. Al die glans was uit sy oë en hy het baie droewig en trietsig gevoel. Selfs die spin in sy keel het stom geword. Die swartkat en gemmerkat het baie bekommerd geraak en gewonder wat hulle kon doen om gryskat weer gelukkig te kry. Juffrou Smit het ‘n sonkol op haar bed gehad wat net skielik verdwyn het! Gryskat het daarvan gehou om in die sonkol te gaan lê. Dadelik het swartkat en gemmerkat begin om die sonkol te soek. Hulle het die huis behoorlik omgekeer, terwyl Juffrou Mollie uit was om inkopies te gaan doen. Kaste se laaie is oopgetrek, tafeldoeke is afgetrek, boekrakke is omgekeer, alles het inmekaar getuimel. Selfs ‘n glasvoël en porseleinbeeldjie van ‘n meisie het afgeval en bo-op ‘n hoop boeke op die mat beland. Hulle het later kombuistoe verskuif en daar gaan soek. Die kombuisgordyntjies was deurskynend en daardeur kon hul sien dat daar niks daaragter was nie. Later was hulle in Juffrou Mollie se slaapkamer en daar het hulle ook ‘verwoesting’ aangerig soos hul gesoek het. Toe sien hul die houtkis, waarin die nuwe teestel gepak was, reg voor die venster! Hulle het die kis bespring en probeer trek en later dit reggekry dat die kis kantel en begin val. Met ‘n gemiaau en ‘n geblaas het hul rondgespring soos hul geskrik het. Toe, met steeds verskrikte oë, sien gryskat Juffrou Mollie se bed raak! Op haar bed het die goue sonkol verskyn! Toe Juffrou Mollie tuiskom, was sy minder beindruk met al die gemors in die huis, maar besef waaroor als gegaan het. Sy het besef dat sy onnosel was om die kas voor die venster te skuif en sodoende die sonkol van gryskat te ontneem! – Die boek is een van my talle Afrikaanse kinderboeke wat ek het. Jenny Seed se boeke kan enige tyd gelees word, dit sal altyd ‘n wenner wees. Die illustrasies in die boek is ook puik, reg op die vlak van die kind wat maak dat die boek ‘n kinderboekwenner is.

Ek was getag deur Toortsie om ‘n ‘storie’ te skryf.Wel, baie stories kan ek skryf en het ek al geskryf. Al daardie stories is sommer net ‘n kort kinderstorie – wat ons almal ken – geen rêrige waarheid skuil daaragter nie en dis meer oor die verbeelding van die kleinkinderkind en om dit te prikkel. My storie gaan eintlik oor iets wat rêrig is. Dit bestaan en alle Suid-Afrikaners is daarby betrokke. Of jy in die land woon of nie. Jy is deel daarvan. Jy kan nooit jouself losmaak daarvan nie en al probeer jy, of al sê jy dat jy nie meer deel is nie, jy bluf jouself. My storie is ook ‘n gryskatstorie. My storie is ook oor ‘n sonkol wat weggeraak het. Almal is huidiglik besig om hierdie sonkol te soek, ek inkluis. Ons krap die plek erger om as wat gemmerkat en swartkat dit gedoen het. Ander katte krap dit nog meer om as onsself, maar ons is almal opsoek na daardie goue sonkol wat al byna 20 jaar weg is. Vir ons almal se onthalwe, hoop ek en glo ek dat daardie sonkol eendag weer sal verskyn. Dit gaan nie gou wees nie, want die verwoesting raak al hoe erger en dit gaan al hoe moeiliker raak om dit te kry, maar tog sal dit uiteindelik gekry word, ons moet net moed hou – soos swartkat en gemmerkat. Dit was vir my uiters hartseer om by die familie te kuier en kennis te neem van alles wat ‘ondergronds’ gebeur in my geliefde vaderland. Ek wil nie hê dat dit moet gebeur nie, maar die verwoesting moet gebeur. Anders kan daardie goue sonkol nie gevind word nie. Ons bly positief, hoop, glo en vertrou. Dis vir my wreed om te verneem wat in ons hospitale aangaan, hoe swakopgeleides pasiënte laat sterf en hoeveel die staat en hospitale moet uitbetaal as gevolg van die swak opleiding en die nalatigheid daarvan. Ek moes aanhoor hoe ongevoelig daar met pasiënte gewerk word, tydens stakings – wat als gebeur het. Ek het gevoel hoe die trane in my oë opwel en kon nie help om van dit weg te pink nie. Skade kan daar gesien word, ‘n lewe word geneem! Wat van die Onderwys, waar die skade nie so direk opsigtelik is nie? Dienste – swak opgeleide treindrywers wat daagliks ongelukke veroorsaak – weereens: mense se lewens is betrokke. Kan die aan bewind nie dink hoe Juffrou Mollie gedink het – hoe onnosel hulle is en wat hulle eintlik aan die land berokken nie? Ek sit soos gryskat met verskrikte oë. Ek kan nog baie meer by my storie aanlas, nog meer en intens hartseer, maar laat ons eerder positief dink, bly en wees. Ek sit ek met my familie hier en tuis, en hoop – vir almal se onthalwe – dat daardie goue sonkol baie vinnig gevind sal word.  Alleenlik dan sal almal – alle kleure van die reënboog ingesluit – gelukkig wees.

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Ek het die boek vandag raakgeloop. Dis die mees oulikste kinderboek boek wat ek lanklaas gesien het. Die tou – wat lyk soos rêrige tou – is deel van die boekomslag. Jy kry die idee dat dit ‘n regte stukkie tou is wat om die boek gebind is as jy op ‘n afstand daarna kyk. Meerkatte is een van my gunsteling Afrika-diere…My gunsteling voël is die Tarentaal.

Voorin is allerlei humoristiese sê-goetjies en interessanthede oor die Meerkat-familie, o.a. hulle motto: Stay Safe, Stay Together.

Sunny Meerkat decided to find the perfect place to stay – and then sent postcards home about his travels and experiences. The Meerkat motto is: Stay Safe, Stay Together. [and sleep together!] Click photos for a larger view, especially the photo following the next photo, so you can read the message.

Binne in die boek is verskeie poskaarte wat deur die Meerkat – wat besluit het om te travel om die perfekte plek te soek om te bly,  huistoe gestuur is. Hier kan jy een so ‘n poskaart sien. Die volgende foto is die agterkant met die boodskap. Klik die foto sodat jy die boodskap kan lees.

Die einde van die storie. Soort van ‘n foto-album.  Sunny Meerkat het besluit om terug te keer huistoe – slegs na ‘n week!  ‘n Baie oulike idee van die skryfster, Emily Gravett. Ek kyk graag Meerkat Manor, dit word nou weer op Channel 5 uitgesaai, episode 2 was gister en jy kan die video’s op hul webbladsy kry tot ‘n maand nadat dit uitgesaai is. Wel, terwyl ek heerlik kuier, onthou die Meerkat motto: Stay Safe, Stay Together! [and sleep together!] Ek sal nou nie soos Sunny Meerkat kan belowe dat ek gaan ‘skryf’ nie, dus, hou die blink kant bo en moenie vergeet: 14 Augustus is Afrikaans-dag nie! Die dag waarop die GRA gestig is. [14/8/1875] O ja, Vrouedag is 9 Augustus.


Hierdie volgende gedig het ek op laerskool geleer [moes!] en ek kan net nie die volledige gedig onthou nie, dus enige iemand wat hier lees en kan help, ek sal dit so waardeer! Ek het hulp uit talle oorde aangevra, maar dit nog niks opgelewer nie.Die woorde in ‘n ander kleur het ek opgemaak en die digter sal ek ook graag wil weet!

Die Meerkat

Spitse snoetjie skerpe ogies
Stertjie lank en kaal
Lange naels, skerp soos naalde
en ‘n jassie vaal.

In die môre-son se strale
In die oggend dou
Penorent sien jy die meerkat
Met ‘n stukkie tou. [ek weet hierdie reël is totaal verkeerd]

Die volgende gedig het ‘n vriendin vir my aangestuur [Lianda, baie dankie!] in die soektog na die bogenoemde gedig. Dis ook ‘n gedig oor ‘n Meerkat en  sy het die gedig gevind omdat ek gedink het die gedig dalk deur CM van den Heever geskryf was. Ek waardeer haar soektog na die gedig geweldig en sy’s altyd van groot hulp ten spyte daarvan dat sy ‘n besig Ma is met jong skoolgaande kinders – wat selfs nou besig met eksamens is. Waarlik ‘n steunpilaar!

DIE MEERKAT

Regop sit die meerkat teen die bult, sy koppie roerloos,
fyn gesny en slim met die ogies soos vonke daarin;
hy staar na die verdorde velde en die slingerloop van die paaie
en hou die bosse dop van waar die dood gou kan bespring.
Maar niks lewe of roer in die rondte en die somerson is `n bol
vlammende vuur wat ver en wyd die berge laat tril in die hitte
Dan roer hy sy kop en die omgewing, verras en ontwaak, vloei na die lewe
na wat daar beweeg het, en verstol dan weer gou in die doodsheid.
En waarom hy ook moet lewe, die rooimeerkat met penregop lyf,
dit weet niemand – hy, nog die lang ketting lewe lank voor hom.

Nou spring die omgewing in aandag; geluid het gekom oor die stilte,
`n gulsige hond met hangende tong het verskyn en sy woeste geblaf, val luid teen die lug en eggo die klowe dan in.
`n Paar draaie, vervolger en vervolgde die verskroeide aarde oor,
dat die pote dreun en gehyg van `n asem gulsig bly gaan.
Dan net `n fyn, angstige skreeu en die meerkat ril nog `n keer
en sterwe met sy tandjies wit na die sonlig daarbo.
Die hond gaan dan snuffelend verder en daar hoog kras `n
kraai –
was hy nodig – die meerkat – en wie van ons sal dit raai?

CM van den Heever



Ek is uiteindelik oppad, ongelukkig slegs vir ‘n baie kort tydjie. Gelukkig kon ek die tydjie afknyp om weer bietjie in Suid-Afrika te gaan kuier, anders sou nog ‘n jaar verby gegaan het sonder dat ek die familie gesien het.

Hierdie liedjie is baie mooi – met veral die mooi tonele uit SA.

Halala Afrika

Toe die wêreld hier nog jong was en die horison wyd en oop
Was dit groen hier in die halfrond, suid van die ewenaar
En in die skemer as die son sak en die beeste huis toe loop
Klink die roepstem van die vroue oor die heuwels van die land:
Halala, ewig is ons Afrika.
Tula tula mtanami, tula tula sanaboni, tula tula mtanami,
Ubab uzobuya sihlale naye, ubab uzobuya sihlale sonke, Hmmm-Hmmm

Toe kom die skepe uit die weste, wit seile oor die see
Om te vra vir koos en water en te bly vir so veel meer.
En die land wat een tyd oop was, die land het ons verruil
Vir die ghetto’s van die stede is ons koperdraad gegee.
Halala, ewig is ons Afrika
Halala, sasiphila, kamnandi, halala, mayibuye Afrika
Tula tula mtanami, tula tula sanaboni, tula tula mtanami,
Ubab uzobuya sihlale naye, ubab uzobuya sihlale sonke, Hmmm-Hmmm

Daar was rykdom in die maag van ons moeder Afrika
Diamante en ook steenkool, goud, edel metaal
En die mense word die slawe hier want die mense word betaal
Om te tonnel in die aarde elke greintjie uit te haal
En die groot en oop grasvlaktes span dit toe met doringdraad
En van die olifant tot die gemsbok al die diere moes kom buig
Voor die mag van die grootwildjagter voor die mag van sy groot geweer
Totdat net die stilte oorbly, totdat net die stilte heers.

Halala, ewig is ons Afrika.
Halala, sasiphila, kamnandi, halala, mayibuye Afrika
Sasidjapolutjoloythina
Halala, sasiphila, kamnandi, halala, mayibuye Afrika
Source: southafrica.com/forums/language/5041-zulu-translation-request.html  Krediet vir foto met Tafelberg: Suid-Afrikaanse Lugdiens

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This entry is more about a new Afrikaans song by Steve Hofmeyr – he sings in English too, and if you like the voice of Neil Diamond, then you will surely like his music too. Anyway, this new Afrikaans song is a protest song and I was reading on the link, in this post, about protest songs. Afrikaans is a young language and since the start Afrikaans struggled to survive. The British settled in South Africa in 1820 and then after the South African-British War – Boer War – Afrikaans was also ‘banned’. In primary schools, if you dared to speak your mother tongue [Afrikaans], you got a board around your neck stated ‘Donkey’ on it. At the moment, Afrikaners [not Africans] again, have to fight to survive. Not just to survive as a human race, but also the language as such. Farmers get murdered on a weekly basis [don’t forget the murders in the towns and cities too.] The world is IGNORANT!
Goethe said, “There is nothing more frightening than active ignorance.”
I’ve found the lyrics to the song and also some English words to it [to part of it], but you will get the ‘message’. ‘Apartheid’ was nothing comparing to what happens now in our beautiful country. And if you really think you know everything about Apartheid, then I think you know just a tiny drop in the ocean of what it really was. Being in the UK now for long enough to know what they ‘know’ about ‘Apartheid’, is enough to tell me that they believed anything that was dished up to them as ‘Apartheid’. We all know what the ANC tried to achieve with their ‘campaigns’ and with a world full of narrow-minded people, they achieved what they wanted  including the toi-toi on Trafalgar Square in the 1980’s and their sad sing-songs in America.  Also, I think some of us know WHY things happened as it happened – like the Zimbabwean-ordeal – and it is just a matter of ‘time’ and South Africa will be there  too – then those ‘waiting’ will ‘close in’.[and I’m not referring here to ‘those’ as the Afrikaners]. During the Boer War the British found it hard to win the war… we are a nation made up from different nations. We will fight and stand up again. Ex Unitate Vires= Unity is Strength

Read more about us here:

THE BOER NATIONS

Take a community of Dutchmen of the type of those who defended
themselves for fifty years against all the power of Spain at a time
when Spain was the greatest power in the world. Intermix with them a
strain of those inflexible French Huguenots who gave up home and
fortune and left their country for ever at the time of the revocation
of the Edict of Nantes. The product must obviously be one of the most
rugged, virile, unconquerable races ever seen upon earth.  Take this
formidable people and train them for seven generations in constant
warfare against savage men and ferocious beasts, in circumstances
under which no weakling could survive, place them so that they acquire
exceptional skill with weapons and in horsemanship, give them a
country which is eminently suited to the tactics of the huntsman, the
marksman, and the rider.  Then, finally, put a finer temper upon their
military qualities by a dour fatalistic Old Testament religion and an
ardent and consuming patriotism.  Combine all these qualities and all
these impulses in one individual, and you have the modern Boer — the
most formidable antagonist who ever crossed the path of Imperial
Britain.  Our military history has largely consisted in our conflicts
with France, but Napoleon and all his veterans have never treated us
so roughly as these hard-bitten farmers with their ancient theology
and their inconveniently modern rifles. —Arthur Conan Doyle

Click THIS link to read the entire article by Arthur Conan Doyle.

Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930), Scottish author and creator of the oft-quoted detective-hero Sherlock Holmes wrote The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1891)

On THIS LINK link, – on my blog – I said in 2007 that I hope we as a nation will – again – rise and stand together one day. Eventhough we are scattered all over the planet at the moment, I do look forward to that day when things will ‘come together’ for all of us.

What is protest music? In April 1966, Bob Dylan arrived in Stockholm as part of his controversial “electric” world tour, and a local interviewer asked him why he was no longer writing and performing protest songs. Dylan, irritated and more than a little out of it, objected to the question’s premise and called one of his new rock ’n’ roll compositions the very height of protest music: “Very, very protesty. And, uh, one of the protestiest of all things I ever protested against in my protest years.”

Please click HERE to read the entire article.

Ons Sal Dit Orleef

Ons sal dit oorleef – Steve Hofmeyr
“Daar’s ‘n land en ‘n volk in een taal gedoop
Met gebede en buskruit en bloed gekoop
Wat weer en weer van sy knie af moet streef
Ons sal dit oorleef…

Uit die kake van oormag deur die vuur op ons werf
Staan die engele by ons vroue en die kinders wat sterf
Elke grafsteen een standbeeld vir die wat bly leef
Ons sal dit oorleef…

My hart klop toktokkie waar hy breek vir my volk
Voor die kakie kanon of die k****r se dolk
Dit maak nie meer saak nie waar ons ons begeef
Ons sal dit oorleef…

Ek lig my oë tot die berge op
Waar sal my hulp tog vandaan kan kom
Ag my God jou woorde lê deur my geweef
Ons sal dit oorleef…

Ek staan vandag op jou plaas ou vriend
Daar hang stof oor die stilte sovêr ek kan sien
Maar die geeste van gister sal more herleef
Ons sal dit oorleef

Some of the words in English.

My heart beats toktokkie where it breaks for my people
against the English (Khaki) canons or the Kaffir’s dagger
It matters none where we now are heading
We will survive this ordeal …

I raise my eyes to the mountains
ask where will my help arrive from?
Oh my Lord your words are woven within me…
We will survive this ordeal…
English lyrics: whatishappeninginsouthafrica.blogspot

Conversation between Theodore A… and Steve on Twitter [you might want to click the image for a clear view]

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…vir die trane wat ek nou kon stort.

Vir die wat gedigte op my blog soek deur Adam Small: Hier is een. Op die bladsy oor: Afrikaanse digters en gedigte sal jy nog kry.

Die Here het gaskommel

Lat die wêreld ma’ praat pêllie los en vas
’n sigaretjie en ’n kannetjie Oem Tas
en dis allright pêllie dis allright
ons kannie worry nie

’n sigaretjie en ’n kannetjie Oem Tas
en ’n lekker meid en lekker anner dinge
oe!
lat die wêreld ma’ praat pêllie los en vas
wat daarvan
wat daarvan
wat maak dit saak
soes die Engelsman sê it cuts no ice
die Here het gaskommel
en die dice het verkeerd gaval vi’ ons
daai’s maar al

so lat hulle ma’ sê skollie pêllie
nevermind
daar’s mos kinners van Gam en daar’s kinners van Kain
so dis allright pêllie dis allright
ons moenie worry nie
–Adam Small

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Photo:capestay.co.za/skipskop

Pak op, pak op,
sit jou goedjies op jou kop
Môre gaan ons weg, ver van die weg
Skipskop, Skipskop,
wanneer hou die dinge op
swaarkry lê nog voor,
die blou berge oor.

Overberg se mens, is ek gebore.
Op die plek Skipskop, nes my pa en sy pa ook.
Hier deur die duine, loop ons spore
Hier op die beach, hier langs die see is ek getoeë

Maar wat ken ek anders, as die blou dam se branders
en die wolke en winde wat hier waai
Verkoop jou bootjie, pak op jou goedjies
en sê maar so long, Skipskop, Skipskop sê goodbye.

Die linkerhand, of die regterhand
watse kant lê die plek, misverstand
asseblief meneer, ag sê tog weer
is dít die pad wat ons moet môre vat
´n stukkie lê hier, en ´n stukkie lê daar
die stukkies van my lewe, hulle lê baie deurmekaar
tel op vir shorty, en tel op vir pop,
gaan haal vir Apie en hou daai kindjie dop.

Maar wat ken ek anders
as die blou dam se branders
die wolke en die winde wat hier waai
Pak op jou goedjies, verkoop jou bootjie

en sê vir so long,
Skipskop, skipskop
sê gooodbye

Maar wat ken ek anders
as die blou dam se branders
die wolke en die winde wat hier waai
Verkoop jou bootjie, pak op jou goedjies
en sê vir so long,
Skipskop, skipskop
sê gooodbye

so long, Skipskop, skipskop
sê goodbye

[Ironies – die liedjie – dit laat mens nogal dink, nê – as jy weet wat ek bedoel]


Deserted house at Skipskop – almost the style of a fisherman-cottage.The image is from THIS LINK where you can view two more pictures of Skipskop.
On THIS LINK you can see images of early building styles in the Cape and I wonder if you’ve heard about the Hartbees-huis [home]. It has nothing to do with the Hartbees-antelope though.

The name and style of the hartbeeshuis , a thatched A-frame hut one can still see at Puntjie in the Western Cape, shows a conjoining of the indigenous with the European: harub is the Khoi term for the reeds used as thatch, biesies the same term in the Dutch vernacular; hence harubbies, adulterated to hartbees, with “huis” meaning “house”. It is a traditional European style, adapted with the bowed poles of the transportable Khoi matjieshuis.

Baie dankie aan Eelt vir hierdie bydrae wat hy vir my in die kommentaarboksie gelos het. Die link van die nuusberig is ook aan die einde van die berig. Volgens Eelt het Dana Snyman in een van sy boeke die geskiedenis van Skipskop opgeteken.

Vrydag 10 Desember 2004 bl. 16
Beeld
Johannesburg Finaal
Hoofartikel Bladsy
Beeld-Deurloop

Die vredige skildery lieg, mevrou, haal hom af
Dana Snyman
Ek wil met jou gesels oor daardie skildery teen jou sitkamermuur, mevrou – daardie een van die vissershuisies op Waenhuiskrans.
Ja, ja, die een wat net bokant die nuwe Serengeti-bank hang, links van die Claerhout: op die agtergrond is die see, met die huisie op die voorgrond, ‘n gesellige rokie kronkelend by die skoorsteen uit, ‘n wasgoeddraad vol helderkleurige rokke en broeke langs dit, en ‘n slapende hond of twee hoendertjies voor die deur. So vredig.

Nie dat jy die enigste een is wat só ‘n skildery van Waenhuiskrans se vissershuisies het nie, mevrou. Daardie skilderye hang geil in hierdie land se sitkamers, want oral is mense, met of sonder kunstalent, wat tog so graag daardie huisies skilder.

Al daardie skilderye lieg, mevrou. Ek het die laaste twee dae tussen daardie huisies in Kassiesbaai op Waenhuiskrans rondgestap en, glo my, dis glad nie soos op daardie skildery van jou nie. Ja, daar hang klere oor die wasgoeddrade langs daardie huisies, maar baie van daardie klere is oud en verbleik, mevrou. Party hemde het gate in, party broeke is gelap.

En, ja, voor ta’ Anna Benzien se huisie lê ‘n hond, so ‘n bejaarde pavement special, maar hy lê ook maar net omdat hy nie meer behoorlik kan stap nie, mevrou. Miskien is dit rumatiek of kanker of sommer net die ouderdom, maar daar is nie ‘n veearts op Waenhuiskrans nie.

Buitendien, mevrou, ta’ Anna het nie geld vir veeartse nie.

Hierdie Kersfees, mevrou, gaan antie Anna en haar kinders en al die kleinkinders daardie twee hoendertjies op jou skildery opeet, want ta’ Anna oorleef op ‘n staatspensioen, mevrou, en op Waenhuiskrans is nie werk vir haar kinders nie.

Jimmy, haar oudste, trôl nog soms op die skuite, maar die vis loop nie meer soos van ouds nie, mevrou. Die groot skuite met hul beernette het al die vis kom vat, mevrou, sodat ek en jy lekker in restaurants kan eet. Dis ook vreemd, mevrou, langs baie van daardie huisies staan gedaan ou motors, tog verskyn dit nooit op daardie skilderye wat in jul sitkamers hang nie. Is dit omdat ‘n gekrôkte Nissan Laurel of ‘n Austin Apache sonder wiele nie esteties genoeg vir die sensitiewe kunstenaarsiel is nie?

Voor oom Bob Dyers se huisie lê ook ‘n groot, pienk teddiebeer in die stof, mevrou, en by die deur staan twee leë brandewynbottels, en teen die voorhuismuur hang ‘n gehekelde Onse Vader – goed wat uiteraard ook nie op daardie skilderye van julle verskyn nie, mevrou.

Oom Bob sê nie eintlik veel nie, mevrou. Hy is mos maar stil sedert hy die beroerte-aanval in April gehad het. Oom Hennerik Grandfield, wat nes oom Bob ‘n visserman was toe daar nog vis was, praat wel, mevrou. Hy vertel hoe hy en sy mense in 1984 deur PW Botha se regering aangesê is om pad te gee van Skipskop af.

Skipskop was ook so ‘n fraai vissersdorpie nes Waenhuiskrans, mevrou. Maar toe besluit PW-hulle mos daar moet ‘n missieltoetsbaan gebou word, en toe moet oom Hennerik-hulle maar oppak en trek, die duine oor, Waenhuiskrans toe.

Nou sit oom Hennerik in daardie fraai vissershuisie teen jou sitkamermuur, mevrou.

Haal daardie skildery af, mevrou. Bêre hom. Steek hom weg.
Want jy het meer geld vir hom betaal as wat oom Hennerik tans in ‘n jaar verdien, mevrou.
http://152.111.1.88/argief/berigte/beeld/2004/12/10/B1/16/01.html

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This photo was taken yesterday about 4pm

The first Afrikaans Christmas song written in South Africa – about a Summer Christmas – and I’ve found a youtube video about it. It’s beautiful, the boys singing in this choir reminded me of the Drakensberg Boys Choir of years ago – beautiful singing. The translation of the song was found on the site of: openlanguages.net

Somerkersfees

[1]

Welkom o stille nag van vrede,
Onder die suiderkruis,
Wyl stemme uit die verlede
Oor sterrevelde ruis.

[2]

Hoor jy hoe sag die klokke beier
in eeue-oue taal.
Kyk, selfs die nagtelike swye
vertel die ou verhaal.

[3]

Voel jy ook nou Sy warm liefde
As ons die dag gedenk,
Toe Hy sy Seun aan ons gegee het –
Ons grootste Kersgeskenk.

KOOR

Kersfees kom, Kersfees kom –
Gee aan God die eer.
Skenk ons ‘n helder Somerkersfees
In hierdie land, o Heer.

English-version

[1]

Enter in quiet peace filled night
beneath the Southern Cross
Lend now your ear this starlit night,
to whispers from the past.

[2]

Do you hear how softly the bells
are chiming, in ancient dialect
Even the evening’s starry silence,
on prescious history reflects.

[3]

Can you also feel the warmth of His love,
as we celebrate the day
God loved us so much He sent his son,
no other gift as great.

CHORUS

Christmas nears, Christmas nears
Bow before the King
Grant by Your grace in this great land
A bright summer’s Christmas Lord.

This next video is for everyone reading here and I do hope your Christmas will be a wonderful Christmas.
I want you also to think about South Africans and pray for my country and its people, you can see photos of how black kids are being trained how to kill/execute whites- and best of all, the WORLD is turning a BLIND eye. If it was whites killing blacks, it would be DIFFERENT story, but who cares, it’s blacks killing whites, even a three year old girl! I won’t go into the detail how she was killed as you won’t believe it. Read the link to know what is REALLY going on in South Africa. The British screwed up big time – with Zimbabwe and they screwed up ONCE again – not just the British, but America too – this time. And …oh please, don’t come to me with your Apartheid excuses, as Apartheid was nothing like this and has nothing to do with this – 1994 is …er…how many years ago? Using Apartheid as an excuse also shows how uninformed you actually are about South Africa and its past – as that’s the only thing most people know about – well, actually those who know something about South Africa – apart from lions and rhinos roaming the streets/cities of our country – like some people think. So, I would suggest to read the link if that was going to be your excuse too.  These people are demon possessed and they do not know about God and the love of God and Jesus. They need your prayers too and they need people to spread the love of God, so they can stop with their killings. If you are interested in more reading, follow the link on my sidebar – with the photo of Anthony LoBaido – to read more.

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Heidi-herinneringe

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image:woes.co.za

South African sunsets [African sunsets in general] are the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. This next song’s title is Suncatcher – translated as it is an Afrikaans song – Sonvanger. –one of the most beautiful Afrikaans songs. I translated the song in 2008 – see lyrics at the bottom of this post – and Laurika Rauch [female singer in the video – also a household name in SA] was quite impressed with my translation, therefore I’m happy to post it here for you –

Suncatcher

See if you could catch me the sun
There’s a room in the house where it can be hung
It’s dark by the window in the middle of the day
Do you remember how brightly the room could laugh?

See if you could bring me the sun
There’s a song in the corridors the sun can sing
Coz it’s quiet in the corners, this cold season
Can you see what the wind and rain do to me?

Chorus
S-u-ncatcher!
I ask you, please, let it shine for me again
S-u-ncatcher!
Let me understand
How a summer disappear like that in the nothingness
And let it shine

See if you could get me the sun
There’s a home in my heart where the sun can live
See if you could steal me the sun
There’s a place in the garden where the sun can play

Chorus
S-u-ncatcher!
I ask you please, let it shine for me again
S-u-ncatcher!
Let me understand
How a summer could disappear like that in the nothingness
And let it shine

Bring some light for the meanders on my road
And a handful of rays for the darkness in my heart

~~~ Nikita…2008

This piece of art is called Die Sonvanger by Edward Baird – the picasaweb-link is at the bottom of the image – click for a larger view.

Ansie-Ans from devianart says her dad took this pic of her in Cape Town. A very beautiful picture!

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Photo: Mrs Otto Krantz 

One of the women who received the Government’s sanction to join a commando was Mrs. Otto Krantz, the wife of a professional hunter. Mrs. Krantz accompanied her husband to Natal at the commencement of hostilities, and remained in the field during almost the entire campaign in that colony. In the battle of Elandslaagte, where some of the hardest hand-to-hand fighting of the war occurred, this Amazon was by the side of her husband in the thick of the engagement, but escaped unscathed. Later she took part in the battles along the Tugela, and when affairs in the Free State appeared to be threatening she was one of the first to go to the scene of action in that part of the country.

Read on this link more about the women and the boer war.

A people are what its women are. The woman is the conscience of her nation as well as the measure of its values. The moral life of a nation is controlled by the women and by the women can we measure the moral condition of the people. – Postma

I have a very famous poem of a very famous South African poet to celebrate Women’s Day in South Africa. “Die Vrou” – in English “The Woman”. She translated some of her works in English/German/Italian/French and Hebrew and won many prizes in South Africa and in the Netherlands. She was born in 1915 and died in 2007  in Amsterdam. Sarah Raal [picture] was one of those strong women during the South African/British War [Boer War] and she fought alongside the Boer Soldiers. You can read this book written by her:

Die vrou

Somer en herfs en winter trek in wye
onafgebroke wisseling deur die land,
maar sy bly draer van die lente want
liefde het haar verhef bo die getye.

Haat en verwoesting plant hul lamfervlae
in honderd stede en oral sink die nag;
vir háár op wie ook bloed en worsteling wag
klink nog die lied van vrede en welbehae.

Die uitgeteerde ruiter neig sy sens
en aarselend voor die klaarheid van haar blik
erken selfs hy sy heerskappy se grens:

in haar wat die onsterflikheid bewaak
ontkiem die toekoms in die flou getik
van lewe wat voorwêreldlik ontwaak.

Elisabeth Eybers

Tomorrow,  9th August, South Africa celebrate’s Women’s Day. I’ve decided to create a special entry on Women. I have for you photos from family – both sides – dated back just before the 1800’s.

I agree with the above quote from Postma. Women are  the anchor of a nation and if women are not taking the lead when it comes to morals and values, well, then its tjaila-time [like we say in South Africa] for a nation. We as women need to conduct ourselves in a way that our children can look upon us, be proud and so be proud adults too. I’ve come across a very interesting piece of writing and copied part of the article here. The complete article can be read on the given link at the bottom of this entry. 

Mrs G Botha

Mrs General Botha

Mrs G Meyer

Mrs General Meyer

British colonization and its positive, beneficial effects dominated nineteenth-century South African historiography written in English. Dutch settlement, as well as the Great Trek and the founding of the Boer republics, was regarded as peripheral to the saga of British settlement and government at the Cape. Works by Noble (1877) and Wilmot and Chase (1869) remained the standard source material on South African history until G. M. Theal began to publish research based more closely on archival material, during the latter part of the century. The writings of Noble and of Wilmot and Chase portrayed Boers settlers outside the Cape Colony as ignorant, illiterate and cruel, as ‘living on the margin of civilisation’, their ‘moral condition … scarcely higher than the Hottentots or slaves who were household companions’.

During the last quarter of the century, especially after the mineral discoveries and the Boer victories during the Transvaal War of Independence (1880-1), such criticism began to be countered by an apologist approach to the Boers in both English and Dutch historical writings (the latter emanating from the Netherlands as well as the Boer republics). Historians such as Klok, Van der Loo, and Du Plessis took great pains to paint a positive picture of Boer society, drawing close parallels between the Boers and their exemplary European heritage.

In the new historiography Boer women received greater attention. They were described as extremely courageous  and, owing to their sufferings in the past, were considered by some writers to be ‘the greatest patriots’. ‘Taking all the sufferings a mothers and daughters during the early days into account, it is indeed no wonder that it is amongst the female sex, especially amongst the older generation, that the greatest patriots are found’. These authors painted a detailed picture of the simple and unassuming Boer lifestyle, which was presented as an overt sign of a classless and egalitarian society. At the same time, their ordered and structured society was emphasised, by way of countering the negative images mentioned above. Van der Loo, in his work De Geschiedenis der Zuid-Afrikaansche Republiek aan het Volk, lavished praise on Boer women. Despite their contact with ‘wild barbarians’ and their isolation from civilisation, they remained true to their traditions of ‘virtue, moral sensibility’ political independence and free institutions’. An added dimension was their purported racial superiority and purity. Symbol of her racial purity, the white complexion of the Boer woman – despite exposure to the African wilderness – was highlighted by Lion Cachet, who maintained ‘a Transvaal woman is, for Africa white’ . This feature was likewise stress Klok in his description of Boer women. He also paid attention to their lips, implicitly contrasting them with Negroid features: ‘thin lips, a round chin and a white neck…. Seldom does one see ugly, that is, really ugly women’.

In the projects of these men there is a clear convergence between the development of the ideal of the volksmoeder and the rise of Afrikaner nationalism. In 1918 Postma (then retired because of ill-health) was requested by two Afrikaner organizations, the Nasionale Helpmekaar4 and the Kultuurvereniging of Reddersburg, to write a book entitled Die Boervrouw, Moeder van Haar Volk (The Boer Woman, the Mother of her Nation). The timing of this publication was important. It followed on the unveiling of the Vrouemonument, the Rebellion of 1914 and the termination of the First World War. The war was a significant event in the history of Afrikaner nationalism, for it was during this time that secondary industry, in particular labour intensive industries utilising mainly cheap female labour, began to flourish in South Africa. At the same time, a population explosion in the Afrikaner community, coinciding with the impoverishment of the rural areas, resulted in a massive influx of young, mostly unskilled Afrikaner men and women to this labour market in the urban areas. The presence of these unsupervised and unattached young men and women in the cities gave rise to grave concern for their moral safety in state, church and welfare organisations. In this social context, the characteristics of the Boervrouw as enumerated by Postma gained particular relevance for reformers, cultural entrepreneurs and concerned Afrikaners in general. His book was both an articulation of the already established image of the volksmoeder and a glorification of Afrikaner women, aimed at the instruction of Afrikaner youth and young girls in particular. In his writing the volksmoeder ideal was propagated as a role model for a new generation of women. This involved the emulation of characteristics such as a sense of religion, bravery, a love of freedom, the spirit of sacrifice, self-reliance, housewifeliness (huismoederlikheid), nurturance of talents, integrity, virtue and the setting of an exam others. Of particular significance is that Postma extended the prevailing notion of ideal womanhood to include their nurturing of the volk as well. For the first time the Boer woman’s role as mother and central focus of her family was expanded to include the concept of Boer women as mothers of the nation: The motherhood of the Boer woman extends itself to her volk just as it does to her child’ (Postma, 1918 164; translated). To substantiate his argument he cited the demonstration of Afrikaner women at the Union Buildings in 1915, when a delegation marched to Pretoria to protest against the capture imprisonment of General Christiaan de Wet as a rebel. The idea of demonstration had originated with women suitably connected prominent men and thus well qualified to be regarded as mothers of the nation’ – Mrs. Joubert, wife of the famous Boer general, and Elsie Eloff, the daughter of the late President Kruger. Yet the way in which Postman saw the demonstration taking form portrays a revealing disregard for the women’s initiative: ‘In true womanly fashion the call was complied with, without delay, not taking account of expense or trouble. Love called, love obeyed’ . The limitations of Postma’s perception of the women’s action are evident in these words: women did not argue, they did not stop to consider the consequences and they did not calculate the cost or the trouble of their actions. They were motivated irrationally, solely by love. But having disregarded any political significance in the women’s action, Postma weeded to link the moral strength of the Afrikaner people to that its women: ‘A people are what its women are. The woman is the conscience of her nation as well as the measure of its values. The moral life of a nation is controlled by the women, and by the women can we measure the moral condition of the people’ .

…. In it many of the characteristics already outlined by Postma emerge: Afrikaner women had a purifying and ennobling influence on their menfolk; they would sacrifice much for their families and were loyal housewives and tender nurses, earnest in prayer, sage in advice, with sat love of freedom and steadfastly anti-British. Stockenstrom maintained adamantly that Voortrekker women were ire of their calling as volksmoeders: ‘The women profoundly realised that they were the mothers of the future Afrikaner nation, and were fully conscious of the fact that their children and grand-children could never develop into a virtuous and glorious nation unless they were absolutely independent and free’.

Click HERE to read the complete article on the site of SA History Org za.

Photo: A Teacher and her class – 1913, this image is from the same site as the website where you can read about Elizabeth Russel Cameron [next picture]. She was a remarkable lady and her history is a must read! You can read how she obtained the right to vote in a time in South Africa when women were not allowed to vote, but that was not the reason for what she’s done. 

Image:http://www.mpumalangahappenings.co.za/pilgrimsrest_characters.htm

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English readers: The second half of this entry is for you. Afrikaans is the most humorous langauge that I know. If there is a joke about something, it’s always out in Afrikaans first. I work amongst English (Britons) for almost ten years now and can honestly say we have in Afrikaans much more fun and jokes to share and we have jokes about almost anything under the sun. Also, we can joke about everything, we see humour in everything around us – maybe that’s why we’ve survived everything in our country thus far…even with all the problems with Escom — Afrikaans readers…on twitter Kasper said a few days ago…daar is ‘n tyd vir Es-kom en Es-gaan – that was funny. Anyway…Fanus Rautenbach is a legend in South Africa when it comes to humour! He said we all must die one day, but some people are dying according to their careers…and I’m not going to translate it, it won’t have the same impact as only in Afrikaans…I’ve read it and tears were running down my cheeks as I was reading…this is well-said and you can only say it in Afrikaans – and enjoy/appreciate it in Afrikaans…

Do enjoy the article from Time and then, at the bottom, if you think you are smart…try the smart test…but be warned, I don’t think you are as smart as you think you are…[joke] do try and have fun.

Fanus Rautenbach sê: ons moet almal eendag sterwe, maar elkeen sterf volgens sy beroep:

Reisigers gaan heen.
Jagters gaan bokveld toe.
Parlementslede op die groen kussings gaan sag heen.
Die melkman en die posman kom om.
Kokke steek lepel in die dak.

Die horlosiemaker se tyd het aangebreek.
Die valskermspringer ontval ons.
Die tuinier is van die gras af gemaak.
Die melkboer het die emmer geskop.
Die begrafnisondernemer sien sy gat.

Die dominee het die tydelike met die ewige verwissel.
Die ouderling is ontslape.
Die koerantman is direk hemel toe.
Die skeidsregter het sy laaste asem uitgeblaas.
Die dokter se hart het gaan staan.

Die elektrisiën se liggie is gedoof.
Die koster het die doodsklok hoor lui.
Die kleremaker se draad is geknip.
Die Springbokrugby-afrigter kom tot rus.
Skoonmoeder – die duiwel het haar kom haal

How Sharp Is Your Memory? Article: Time

Snowdon uses a longer version of the following quiz to pick up signs of memory loss. You can use it to test your own memory. If you are concerned about the results, discuss them with your physician.

Verbal Fluency
How many animals can you name in 60 seconds?

Word-list Memory
1. Have a friend read the following 10 words aloud:
Leg
Cheese
Tent
Motor
Flower
Stamp
Cup
King
Forest
Menu

2. Try to commit them to memory.

3. Go over the list twice more, each time in a different order. How many can you recall on the third try?

Delayed Word Recall Test
Wait five minutes. Now how many words can you recall?

Word Recognition
1. Ask your friend to write 20 words on separate index cards — the 10 words from the list above mixed in with ten different words

2. Have your friend show you the cards one at a time

3. How many words can you pick out from the original list?

Add up your scores. If the total is less than 29, you may have difficulty with short-term memory. Ask your doctor about doing a more thorough exam.

Image:timtim

How SMART are you? This is fun…be warned…you might not be as smart as you think![hehe] Bill Gates did this test and he scored 3!

Afrikaans is LEWENDIG!

Volg die link onderaan die artikel om die volledige artikel te lees.

Afrikaanse letterkunde floreer. Afrikaanse koerante is gesond. Televisie kook. In staats- en semi-staatsorganisasies het Afrikaans ’n hoër status as die ander inheemse tale.

Belangrikste van alles vir Afrikaans is dat die taal nou ook aanvaarding geniet en gevier word as ’n taal wat op eie bodem ontstaan het. Tog bly die persepsie voortbestaan onder Afrikaners dat hul taal onder beleg is, vandaar die terugveg teen enige vermeende aantasting van die taal.

Sommige van die verdedigers van Afrikaans is werklike liefhebbers van die taal, met hul bona fides in plek.

Daar is egter ook ’n groot deel van hulle wat gemotiveer word deur eng nasionalisme en, durf ’n mens sê, rassisme. Hulle hunker terug na die Suid-Afrika wat in 1994 gesterf het, ’n Suid-Afrika waarin die Afrikaner die opperwese was.

Insoverre ’n mens sommige van die houdings van Afrikaans se verdedigers verwerplik vind, moet jy hul verbetenheid bewonder. As die sprekers van die ander Suid-Afrikaanse tale maar net soveel aandag wou gee aan die beskerming van hul taal as wat Afrikaanssprekendes doen, sou daar min kommer wees oor die ondergang van plaaslike tale.

Ongelukkig is dit nie die geval nie. Suid-Afrika se Afrika-taal-sprekers het besluit dat hul tale nie die moeite werd is om te bewaar nie. In die middelklas word ’n geslag jong Suid-Afrikaners groot sonder die vermoë om hul moedertaal te verstaan, want hul ouers het besluit dis nie belangrik nie.

Daar word teen ’n hewige tempo aan tale weggekalwe. Ons is op pad na ’n situasie waar inheemse tale slegs deur die werkersklas gepraat word – en hul aspirasies veroorsaak dat ook hulle die middelklas begin napraat.

Dit is nie buite die kwessie nie dat Unesco binne die volgende 50 jaar sou kon verslag doen dat verskeie Suid-Afrikaanse tale op die gevaarlys is.

Hiervoor moet die regering heelwat van die blaam dra omdat hy slegs lippediens bewys aan taalgelykheid.

Terwyl elke politikus graag grootbek is oor die viering van ons diversiteit, word min gedoen om een van die kernaspekte van daardie diversiteit te bewaar – ons tale.

Pleks daarvan dat ons Afrikaners veroordeel daarvoor dat hulle trots op hul taal is en daarvoor baklei, behoort die res van Suid-Afrika ’n les daaruit te leer.

Afrikaans behoort net soveel aan my as aan ou wit mans.

Die ander aand beland ek in een van daai taaierige Suid-Afrikaanse gesprekke waarin ek vertel is dis tyd om ontslae te raak van die swart chip op my skouer.

Sekerlik, is ek vertel, is dit 15 jaar ná die einde van apartheid nie nodig om simplistiese frases soos “julle wit mense” in gesprekke te gebruik nie, veral sedert ek tot die middelklas uitgestyg het en niks het om oor te kla nie.

Dalk is dit trouens tyd om my beitel uit te haal en aan daardie chip te begin werk.

Dit is in dié gesindheid van verantwoordelikheid vir my toekoms neem eerder as om in die verlede te leef dat ek Afrikaanse taalstryders kan vra om dieselfde te doen.

Ek het genoeg gehad van hoofsaaklik wit mans wat op en af spring oor “hul” taal wat in die nuwe Suid-Afrika uitgerangeer word – want die meeste Afrikaanssprekendes is en was nog nooit wit nie.

Ek is moeg van die tirades wat aan koerante gestuur word en die patetiese gekerm oor “hul” taal wat in dreigende gevaar is om permanent uitgedoof te word, asof die regering ’n beleid van taal-volkslagting verklaar het.

As dít die geval was, waarom sien ons dan steeds rye Afrikaanse boeke op die rakke van Exclusive Books, Afrikaanse verjaardagkaartjies by die CNA en die voortgesette groei van Afrikaanse koerante?

Waarom bied Johan Stemmet, uitgerus in sy klopse-monderings, steeds Noot vir noot aan – die SAUK se oudste vermaaklikheidsprogram? En waarom saai die openbare uitsaaier elke weekdag ’n sepie genaamd 7de Laan uit as daar dan geen plek vir Afrikaans in die land is nie?

Toe ek hoor dat die F.W. de Klerk-stigting ’n debat oor Afrikaans by die Universiteit van Stellenbosch reël sonder om die universiteit se visekanselier te nooi, het ek dit skouerophalend afgemaak.

Toe gaan kyk ek op die internet en lees koerante soos Die Burger en webwerwe soos http://www.litnet.co.za om uit te vind hoe die taaldebat verander het. Geen verrassing nie – die debat van tien jaar gelede is die debat van 2010. Hier gaan ons al weer, het ek gedink.

Maar ek is ’n eerstetaal-Afrikaanssprekende – my pa se reël was dat ons tuis Afrikaans gepraat het en Engels by die skool geleer het. En ná meer as 20 jaar in ’n Engelse wêreld bestaande uit ’n Engelse universiteit en Engelse werkplekke praat ek steeds Afrikaans.

As ek en my 70-jarige ma buite in die son sit met ons oggendkoffie, haal ons in Afrikaans in. As ek een van my Afrikaanssprekende kollegas in die gang raakloop, stop ons om gou in Afrikaans te skinder. Dis ’n natuurlike ding om te doen.

En ek vind dat daar in my 40 jaar oue hart steeds ’n passie vir Afrikaans is. Daardie passie ontwaak wanneer ek hoor hoe my vyf jaar oue dogtertjie moeiteloos van “Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika” na “Die Stem” oorslaan.

My dogters praat Afrikaans. Hulle gaan na Engelse skole. Hulle is tweetalige kinders wat nog ’n Afrika-taal ook sal aanleer.

Maar hoewel Afrikaans oral om my is, kan ek nie dieselfde hittigheid en geesdrif as die taalpatriotte optower nie.

Wanneer gaan hulle aanvaar dat, vir baie van ons, hul taalstryd nie gesien kan word sonder ’n politieke konteks uit die verlede nie – ’n konteks wat ons nie deel nie?

As die stryders geweet het wat goed is vir hulle, sou hulle hul visier rig op mense soos ek en die baie swart sprekers van “hul” taal, veral in die Wes-Kaap.

Moet ons nie deel maak van ’n magstryd oor ’n taal nie; maak ons deel van ’n sirkel van passievolle mense wat nodig het om Afrikaans te praat omdat dit deel is van wie ons is.

Vir my dogters het Afrikaans geen magiese kragte nie; dit dra nie ’n geskiedenis wat Voortrekker- en Afrikaner-dapperheid huldig nie.

Afrikaans se redding sal kom deur mense soos my dogter en haar kleinsussie, en die talle ander kinders soos hulle. Omdat hulle geen politieke verbintenis het met ’n taal wat so intiem verweef is met die mag van ons voormalige onderdrukkers nie.

Vir hulle is dit net nog ’n taal wat hul lewe sal verryk deur die skoon en krag wat gevind kan word in die werk van Hein Willemse, Adam Small, Breyten Breytenbach en Ingrid Jonker.

Nie deur rûe styf te maak of deur groot gebare nie en beslis nie deur die geblêr van ou wit mans wat terughunker na vervloë tye nie.

Afrikaans die Taal

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chicken

English Readers – enjoy the chicken jokes in this post. This post is mainly Afrikaans. There is an Afrikaans song too – about chickens – sung by a Capetonion. I really enjoy this song and the Afrikaans is typical of the Cape Coloureds. I love their accent and the way they express themselves, it’s very unique and very colourful. I have two Afrikaans poems too. When I was at primary school, we learned many poems by heart and these two are still fresh in my mind as I enjoyed the word-play and the way the poets expressed themselves. You do miss out  if you can’t read Afrikaans,  as Blum’s poem  is rich in humour.

Chicken_Other_Side

So why did the chicken cross the road?

Aristotle:  To actualize its potential.
Julius Caesar:  To come, to see, to conquer.
Rene Descartes:  It had sufficient reason to believe it was dreaming anyway.
Dr. Seuss:   Did the chicken cross the road?
Did he cross it with a toad?
Yes! The chicken crossed the road,
but why it crossed, I’ve not been told!
Bill Gates:   I have just released Chicken XP, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your check book — and Explorer is an inextricable part of the operating system.
Plato: For the greater good.
Karl Marx:   It was a historical inevitability.
Nietzsche:   Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.
Carl Jung:   The confluence of events in the cultural gestalt necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical juncture, and therefore synchronicitously brought such occurrences into being.
Albert Einstein:  Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.
David Hume:   Out of custom and habit.
Mark Twain:   The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.
William Shakespeare: I don’t know why, but methinks without much ado. William Wordsworth:  To have something to recollect in tranquility.

Jokes and cartoon: Randyshomestead

Peter Emil Julius Blum was born on 4 May 1925 in Trieste, Italy. Blum arrived in South Africa as a child. At this time, he was already able to speak several languages, among others German and Italian. After his studies in Cape Town and Stellenbosch, he took up a position as a librarian in Cape Town.

Blum got married in 1955 to Henrietta Cecilia Smit, who was an art teacher.He wrote and published several articles and poems, which were not always uncontroversial. His success as a poet was first affirmed in 1956 when he won the Reina Prinsen Geerligs Prize for his volume Steenbok tot poolsee (the title being a reference to the Tropic of Capricorn and the southern Antarctic Ocean, relating to the geographical location of South and Southern Africa). Source: Wikipedia

Peter Blum – Image: Stellenboschwriters

Chicken Joke

chicken cross road

Chicken Life Cycle - Input Output and Kaput

Horror Movie - chicken in microwave

Die miljenêr se kombuis

‘n Pellie van my, wa da’ wêk as kok,
het my vandag laat inloer innie huis
vannie ou miljenêr,sy baas. Kombuis?
Jy sou gasê het dis die Duncan-dok!

Tsaaina en messegoed tot anie nok,
Fridzidêrs volgaprop met piekfyn vleis,
Eiers,vrugta en groentes van ‘n soort bok!

Toe sê hy, “Ennie kjeller’s die ena kroeg –
Whisky en brannewyn ,dzien en muskedil.”
Toe sê ek , Wragtie , diè baas is gaseën!

Ga’ hy nou patie skop? Daa’s oorganoeg
Om twintag ouens ‘n week lank te laat smul.
“Nei” , sê hy ,”die baas eet altyd alleen.”

Peter Blum

DIE DUNCAN VAN DIE DUNCAN-DOK

Sir Patrick Duncan het in April 1937 goewerneur-generaal geword. Hy is benoem deur die toenmalige eerste minister, J.B.M. Hertzog.

Hoewel hy in Engeland gebore is, het Duncan die grootste gedeelte van sy volwasse lewe in Suid-Afrika deurgebring, waar hy onder meer as minister van binnelandse sake, onderwys en openbare werke en later minister van mynwese gedien het.

Na afloop van die Anglo-Boereoorlog, waar hy onder lord Alfred Milner ge­dien het, het hy ’n tyd lank as prokureur in Johannesburg gewerk.
Duncan is op 17 Julie 1943 oorlede.
Sy graf is by die Portnet-gebou in die Kaapse hawe en kan deur die publiek besoek word.
http://jv.dieburger.com//Stories/News/19.0.1563301634.aspx
Bronne: http://www.lib.uct.ac.za; http://www.sahistory.org.za.

Dankie aan Skoor en Sigeuner vir al die moeite met die vind van hierdie gedig deur Peter Blum. Op hierdie link van Skoor se blog kan julle die gesprekke gaan opvolg…natuurlik was my brein bietjie verroes ook en het ek hierdie twee gedigte op ‘n stadium gemeng! [hehe] Spesiale dankie aan Skoor vir die pragtige Afrikaanse musiek wat sy aangestuur het en vir Sigeuner se massiewe soektog – haar FBI-agente inkluis! – na die gedig. Talle e-posse het tussen my en Sigeneur heen-en-weer gevlieg en tussen haar besige, dolle, gejaagde  lewe – met kinders en huiswerk tussen-in, het sy nogtans tyd gemaak om ook Sherlok Houms  en haar ondergrondse Mafia agente nader te trek in hierdie soektog![hehe] Dankie Sigeuner! Ek geniet die taal van die Kaapse Kleurlinge en hoe hulle hulself uitdruk – vol humor en ek kan my verluister aan hulle. Geniet die Hoender song van die CD wat Skoor my gestuur het.

Chicken dance

Kaalvoet Klonkie – ID du Plessis 

Verflenterde kaalvoet klonkie
Wat groente verkoop in die reën,
Met jou lelike skurwe tone
En jou lendelam hoepelbeen,
Jy kom met jou venterliedjie
Deur die mistige Kaapse straat
En helder sing jy die woorde
Op jou eie koddige maat:

Lekka, lekka ywe,
Laat die ghantang nadderskywe!
Tamaties en ywe vars van die Strand
En baie kiri slam by die huis se kant!

Jy kom uit die deel van die Kanaldorp
Waar die dieners gewapend moet gaan
En die weerlig van `n skeermeslem
In `n donker hoek neer mag slaan.
Miskien kon jy :Bismillah” sê
Vanmôre, omdat in die kas
Wat dae lank so leeg moet bly,
Daar weer `n broodjie was?
Of dink jy al aan Nuwejaar
As die troepe deur Waalstraat stroom
Van die Bo-Kaap na die Onder-Kaap
Langs die stomp van die slaweboom?
Is dit wat jou so laat bokspring
En dans op jou hoepelbeen,
Verflenterde kaalvoet klonkie,
As jy groente verkoop in die reën?
Ek hou van jou vrolike klanke
Waarmee jy die winter tart.
Sing jy hierdie ligte deuntjie
Bo `n somberte in jou hart?
En as jy op na die Boereplein
Met jou boepens-mandjie gaan,
Dan trek jou parmantige liedjie
Deur die strate agter jou aan:

Lekka, lekka ywe,
Laat die ghantang nadderskywe!
Tamaties en ywe vars van die Strand
En baie kiri slam by die huis se kant!

lekka lekka ywe

Lekka Lekka ywe!

Chicken Art by Alexis Bester

Chicken art – by Alexis Bester

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trolle

Hier het drie groen Rotstrolle gesit en vis eet. Een vet, vriendelike trol kon skaars sy balans hou – natuurlik hom ooreet!  Natuurlik het hulle ook geweet dat die ysbere daar onder vir hulle wag en daarom het hulle elke keer ‘n ander paadjie gevolg wanneer hulle klaar vis geëet het. [Ek hoop julle kan hul sien sit op hierdie rotse][This is where three green Rock Trolls have had their fish. One chubby, friendly troll could hardly keep his balance. Of course they knew the ice bears were waiting down there for them, therefore, each time they come to have some fish, they follow a different path back home. I hope you can see them sitting on these rocks!]

pot goud

Die klein dwergkaboutertjies het hier hul pot goud ontvang van die Maankoning en Maankoningin. Die Maankoningin was geklee in ‘n kleed gemaak van die heel beste maanstraaltjies geweef met maanfeëtjie-harpmusiek-klanke uit die kamer van die onderseese Perlemoenfeëtjie en siternote van die Sonfeëtjies.[The little gnomes have received their pot of gold here from the Moon King and Moon Queen. The Moon Queen was dressed in a gown made of the very best  woven moon beams and moon fairy harp musical notes from the room of the Mother-of-Pearl-Fairy,  from deep down under the sea mixed with cither notes of the Sun Fairies.]

maanfeetjies

Hier het die hoof Maanfeëtjie haar skaakskuif gelaat aan een van die Klawerkoning se hofknapies. Jy kan duidelik die skuif sien – dis uitgegriffel op die rots. Die Bergprins het ook die skuif aangestuur na die Rivierprinses wat dit moes opteken in ‘n maanstraaldagboek waarin al die Maanfeëtjie se skaakskuiwe veilig opgeteken word.[This is the place where the principal Moon Fairy left her chess move for one of  the page boys of King Clover. The Mountain Prince also passed on her move to the River Princess whose task it is to keep record of all the chess moves of the Moon Fairy in the moon beam diary.]

moon fairy david de lamare

Image: David de la Mare

checkmate art

Image:schaakkunst.nl

klim en klouter

Hierdie is die stomp van die klim-en-klouter kaboutertjies. Hulle moes vinnig by die Prinses uitkom om haar teen die trolle te waarsku. Gelukkig was sy veilig in een van die wolke-kamertjies van die wolkepaleis saam met die wolkekabouters. Sy het heerlik gesit en smul aan die lekkerste pienk spookasem wat die wolkekabouters vir haar met die wolke-feë se towerstaffies opgetoor het. [This is the log of the Climbing Gnomes. They had to find the Princess to warn her about the trolls. Fortunately, she was safe in one of the cloud rooms in the Cloud Palace, together with the Cloud Gnomes, busy having the most delicious pink candy floss. The Cloud Gnomes used the magic wand of the Cloud Fairy to do magic.

moon fairy

Image: Fairiesworld

ysbere

Hier het die ysbere gesit en wag vir die trolle om af te kom! Hulle het die paadjie van die trolle baie goed geken en ook geweet dat hulle die raskels is wat hulle visse hoër op in die rivier vang, wat beteken dat hulle laer af niks kry nie! [This is the place where the ice bears live! They know about the trolls, they also know all the paths they’re following. They know the trolls catch all the fish in the upper-river, so there is little left for them.]

And HERE is the complete image!

trolls

And here…are the culprits!!

If you want to have some big fun, click here on the link of Radio 3 to have fun with the trolls and Peer Gynt!

dream

Enjoy this song – I like dreaming

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Transformasie

Herfs het my wêreld stadig binnegesluip
omhul in ‘n sluier van rooi en goud
Ek snak na my asem by die aanskoue
van die transformasie – die wonderlike natuur!
Soete doudruppels gly van ‘n grashalmpie
met die verbygaan van raserige eende
Ek dwaal na die warmte van verlore gedagtes
versteek waar stof en tyd dit nie kan vind
Die laatmiddag son op my vel, jou lippe
wanneer weerstand verkrummel
deur jou vingerpunte –
Ek weet, nie lank,
dan sal Winter se koue winde begin waai
maar Herfs se warmte sal my by-bly
Met gedagtes aan jou op die koel Herfs-oggend
koester ek die warm gedagtes aan jou verewig

—Nikita—Aug 2008

Herfs is met ons en dis heerlik om al die wonderlike kleure te aanskou, asook die transformasie wat daarmee gepaardgaan. Ek het verlede jaar my herfs-gedagtes op my “gedigte/poems”-bladsy geplaas en het weer vanmore al die kleure geniet. Dit plaas my weer in ‘n bui net om gedigte te lees en mooi musiek te luister.

Autumn has arrived! This is just my autumn-poem in Afrikaans and I enjoy the transformations during Autumn.
Enjoy the music of Strauss: Village Swallows. I think all the swallows are by now back in South Africa! I can remember a swallow-family under our roof where I grew up on the farm. It was always good to see them returning home and sweet to hear them chirping.

DSC02223

DSC02224

DSC02225

DSC02295

DSC02327


And here’s a little “autumn”-spider!

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chess-mates

chess lord of the rings

Lord of the Rings chess set

chess winnie the pooh

Winnie the Pooh-chess set.

Sometimes you can get kids into chess if they play with themes-based chess sets. Little ones find it funny.  I’ve found a few. These are chess sets with themes based on story book tales and other fictional literature. Please click here to view more or to order one of these sets. On the left bar – of this link – you can click on ‘themed chess sets’ to view even more.

I’ve done an entry about chess in the movies before. On this link you can read my entry about chess in the movies. More than 1700 movies have used chess and it seems to me the movies do love chess! On this link you can read about the chess game in “Alice through the looking glass” and also read about Alice in Wonderland..the real Alice too. On my Chess Humour-page, you can see Steve McQueen and Faye Danaway in the famous chess scene from the movie: The Thomas Crown affair, 1968.

Martie Preller is an Afrikaans writer. I don’t have to say too much about her as you can only look at all her awards and know that she’s one of South Africa’s brilliant writers of fiction in Afrikaans as well as in English. She has published more than 50 books – the titles are on her website too. She also has written the Balkie-series, a very popular series in South Africa available in English too. She has sent me some scanned images from her books where chess is featured. Her own son is also a chess player. I have for you some extracts from her books and in particular from an English story too. This story hasn’t been published as yet and she’s hoping to find an overseas publisher willing to publish her book. The title of the story is: “The face of Ilev”. Near to the end in this story you read about chess.

Please click here for Martie Preller’s website.

Awards
1994: Silver Sanlam Award for Youth Literature for Anderkantland
1996: ATKV Children’s Book Award for Daar’s ‘n spook in my kas
1996: ATKV Children’s Book Award for Jy en Toetenkat
1996: C.P. Hoogenhout Medal for Anderkantland
1996: Sanlam Award for Youth Literature for In die tyd van die Esob
1998: In die tyd van die Esob is added to the Honours Role of IBBY (International Board on  Books for Young People)
1999: Runner-up in competition for short fiction (De Kat & Human & Rousseau)
2001: Alba Bouwer Award for Children’s Books for Die Balkieboek
2002: ATKV Children’s Book Award for Die Balkieboek
2003: Tienie Holloway Medal for Babalela and Lisa het ‘n plan
2004: M.E.R Award for Children’s Literature for Ek is Simon
2006: Tienie Holloway Medal for Diep, diep in ‘n donker bos 

Die hart van Zeebak

Die hart van Zeebak

I have copied Martie’s quotes as  sent to me. Some in Afrikaans, some in English. Please visit her website for more information and her CV in both languages.

Hart van Zeebak:
Ferdinand en Ben is ‘n tweeling en na ‘n ongeluk is Ben verstandelik gestrem. Ben was die uitblinker en Ferdinand die stiller ou. Na Ben se ongeluk, ignoreer al die maats ens hom natuurlik en skielik is Ferdinand baie belangrik vir almal ens ens. NOU is hy cool.  En hy voel ook hy moet “opmaak” vir Ben wat nou niks meer kan doen nie ens. Ferdinand probeer deal deur met sy fiets in die bosveld te gaan ry ipv om soos sy maats na matriek see toe te gaan. Toe beland hy in die dorpie – waar hy skaak speel en leandra hom kom weglok na ‘n ander planeet. Later kom hy weer terug. Praat weer met die ou man ens. Dus gaan dit eintlik oor skaak en die manier van speel en keuses ens. As ‘n beeld van die lewe ens.

Bladsy 19 – Die hart van Zeebak

“Hy kyk om hom. ‘n Paar tafeltjies met verbleikte rooi-en-wit geruite tafeldoeke. By ‘n tafeltjie in ‘n hoek sit ‘n ou man met ‘n skaakstel klaar uitgepak op ‘n skaakbord voor hom. Die ou man kyk na hom, glimlag en beduie met sy kop na die skaakstel. Hoekom lyk hy so bekend? wonder Ferdinand.

-nog skaakverwysings kan op bladsye 96-101 gevind word.

Zeebak 18,19

Zeebak 20,21

 Zeebak 95

These 3 images are scanned images from her Afrikaans story: Die hart van Zeebak. [The heart of Zeebak]- click on the images for a larger view.

Summary of Esob in IBBY’s catalogus:

“In die tyd van die Esob (In the Time of the Evil) is a science-fiction novel set somewhere in the future after the collapse of civilization.
Against the backdrop of a technocratic regime ma¬nipulated by an evil, coldblooded man and his android minions, each of four young people strives to be the win-ner in a competition that tests their physical, mental and survival skills. The main protagonist, Nina, takes the reader with her on an odyssey of shifting realities and transmuting landscapes that test her belief in reality, the meaning of existence and herself. It is a harsh and frustrating journey during which she has to learn to discern good from evil. In a time of unnatural colonization and brainwashing she has to learn the meaning and value of human emotions.
The book celebrates the strength and endurance of the human spirit. It is structured in a post modernistic way by means of a multi-layered perspective as three different narrators who may or may not be the same person, narrate the story.”

Extract:

THE FACE OF ILEV

by

Martie Preller

– a free translation of
“In die tyd van die Esob”
(In the time of the Esob)
by the author
* “Bose” is the Afrikaans word for “evil” – I spelled it backwards in the original text. The “Esob” is a character in the story. As I could not use “evil” spelled backwards in English, I used the word “Ilev” as the name of this character.
© Martie Preller 2005

We all knew that we were the chosen ones. What we did not know was that that year would be different. Completely different from all previous years.

I knew Daniel, Leonard and Matilda well. I knew their weak points. We had lived together for three years. We had lived and learnt.

The competition in die Training School was fierce. Only the best came out on top. In the first year, there were forty candidates, the next year only twenty and the final year, there were only ten and of those ten, it was undisputed that Daniel, Leonard, Matilda and I would be chosen. We were the best by far.

But the formal announcement had not been made yet. Perhaps I should start my story there: on the day that Zufar and Zandra did the announcement: the day of the fiery red sun.

*****

The amphitheatre glowed in the rays of the red sun. Our two pale round moons hung just above the two dark brown pillars of Odgo, one moon on each side of the entrance to the amphitheatre. The invited guests filled all the seats. The uninvited had to watch the ceremony on their screens.

The Winners of the previous years sat in the front row. They were wearing their red cloaks over their grey tunic suits This was the day, the long-awaited day.

Everyone was quiet. Our people never spoke unless it was necessary. We, the ten of our final year, stood behind the stage waiting for Zufar and Zandra to start the ceremony. We did not speak either, because there was nothing to say.

Daniel kept on throwing his cloak back over his shoulder. Leonard looked as if he was listening to a silent voice, his head slightly turned, with a frown on his face. Matilda was fiddling with her cloak’s tassels. The other six were just standing there. They would not exchange their grey cloaks for white ones. And they knew it.

The drums started rolling. It started as a soft murmur that grew and grew until it filled the amphitheatre with a sound so loud that it filled your head completely and then the drums waned until everything was quiet again. Zufar’s deep voice boomed through the amphitheatre. He talked in his usual staccato way. He irritated me today. When I was young, he was so impressive. Now he was just Zufar.

Then it was Zandra’s turn to speak. Her drawl would not let go of the words as if she wanted to keep them to herself. Her face was half hidden behind a turban that she wore low over her forehead. Zufar and Zandra were reciting the opening words. They too were Winners, long ago and were wearing their red cloaks.

The single shrill note of a trumpet called us to the stage. Everybody’s eyes were fixed on us. It was like that every year. Every year everybody already knew who would be chosen, but still they had to hear it officially from Zufar and Zandra.

We took up our seats in the front row. The trumpets tore the sky with the song of our people. But it was a song without words.

Zufar and Zandra announced our names one by one. Nina. Daniel. Matilda. Leonard. We stepped forward to receive our white cloaks. The silence in the amphitheatre was neutral. I never knew whether they cared or not.

Back in our seats, we dropped the grey cloaks and slung our white cloaks around our shoulders.

The drums rolled again and then the ceremony was over. Tomorrow would be our final preparation day.
———-end of extract of the story from the start.

—-near to the end.
“But now I have a problem.” He suddenly sat upright. “ Do you know the game of chess? No, of course you won’t. It dates from our pre-history. But in the game, you have a white queen and a black queen. But the problem is, although I have really enjoyed talking to you, I am now stuck with two blond queens, and the one will have to go, unfortunately. You have no chance against the other Nina. She is the better of you in all aspects, so I choose her. And I decided that Nina and Daniel would take over the city. A new ruler would be introduced. Nina, with Daniel at her side. But of course not, this Daniel.” He smiled. “And Nina would go down in the annals as the Queen who ruled with an iron fist.” He smiled again. “Now isn’t that a fitting description of Android-Nina?” he asked.

He was right. I stood no chance against Android-Nina. But I can put my hands around Ilev’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.

“And just in case you think you can do something to me, Nina,” he read my thoughts again. “I took precaution. There is a special code that only I know, that must be fed to the Master-Computer every thirty minutes. If that doesn’t happen, the Master-Computer is programmed to destroy the city and all its inhabitants immediately.”
Balkie

Balkie, a character that features in the Balkie-series written by Martie. This series is available in English and Afrikaans – you can view it on her website.

Babalela

Babalela Kensington

When you click on “Op die Internet” [on the internet] -on Martie’s webpage,  you will find an Afrikaans newspaper article about Babalela’s travels in London.

babalela andries maritz

Babalela in one of the books as illustrated by andriesmaritz.blogspot.com

anim13

If you click on this image, (it is an animated image), you will see the covers of about 7 more books written by Martie. It does take a second or two for the animation to change, so please have patience.

Die storie agter die storie van Vandag is nie gister nie

Ek het jare gelede begin wonder wat het van die karakters geword wat reeds hulle stories met my gedeel het in bestaande publikasies. Ek was seker hulle is daar êrens (in ’n storie-dimensie?) waar hullle voortgaan met hulle lewens. Ek was reg! Hulle het my weer gekry en het weer ’n stuk van hulle lewens met my gedeel. Hulle het natuurlik net ouer geword, soos ons almal, daarom is hierdie ’n roman vir volwassenes.
Die volgende karakters kom weer in Vandag is nie gister nie voor. Al die publikasies is huidig (Augustus, 2009) nog in druk.

Nina, Daniël, Matilda en Leonard

Nina, Daniël, Matilda en Leonard is die hoofkarakters in In die tyd van die Esob (Tafelberg, 1996).

“Die uitsonderlike Afrikaanse jeugboek kan kompeteer met sy Europese en Amerikaanse eweknieë.”
Uca Eiselen

Dit het in 1996 die Sanlamprys vir Jeuglektuur gewen en is in 1997 opgeneem in die IBBY Ererol (International Board on Books for Young People).

Sanlam-prysaanbeveling- op Martie se webbladsy

Die woorde in die tweede paragraaf van die gedeelte wat ek aanhaal uit Petra Grütter se Sanlam-prysaanbeveling vir In die tyd van die Esob het soms by my bly spook:

“’n Mens wil nie te veel van die boek self verklap nie, want dis ’n werklik uitdagende teks, wat ook van die keurders vereis het om hulle dinkmasjientjies in te stel vir nuutlees. ’n Boek soos die verstel die verwagtinge binne die hele jeugboekletterkunde – dit is baken leeswerk.
Wat ’n mens wel kan sê, is dat onvolkomenheid en voorlopigheid ook hier ’n rol speel – want die sentrale karakter, wat ook die wenner word, is ’n onvolkome persoonlikheid, en die getekende skryfster van die boek, wat uiteindelik ook in die teks manifesteer, laat ’n duidelike aanwysing na dat die teks ook nog nie klaar is nie. Dis ’n voorlopige verslag oor ’n buitengewone gebeurtenis, dinamies onvoltooid.”       
Ek het in 2000 vir ’n groep leerders by Linden Hoërskool in Johannesburg storiemaakklasse gegee. Hulle het ’n jaar of wat vantevore In die tyd van die Esob in die skool behandel en wou by my antwoorde hê, soos byvoorbeeld: Watter Nina het regtig die boek geskryf? Ek het natuurlik nie antwoorde gehad nie. Hoe moet ek weet? Nou het ek vir hulle ’n antwoord, waar hulle ookal nou mag wees – Nina in Vandag is nie gister nie móét nog In die tyd van die Esob skryf . . .

Ek weet nog steeds nie presies wat Petra bedoel het daarmee nie, maar dit het gevoel asof daar dalk nog iets moes kom – maar wat? In die tyd van die Esob was definitief “voltooid.”


Aanhalings uit In die tyd van die Esob

Bladsy 9

Dit het alles gebeur in die tyd van die Esob. Ons het almal geweet wie gekies sou word, maar wat ons nie geweet het nie, was dat daardie jaar anders sou wees, anders as al die vorige jare. Ek het Daniël en Leonard en Matilda geken. Ek het ge¬weet wat hulle swak punte was. Op slot van sake het ons drie jaar lank saam gebly en geleer.
Die kompetisie in die leerskool was straf. Net die bestes het bo uitgekom. Na die eerste jaar is die aanvanklike veertig kandidate uitgedun tot twintig, en die laaste jaar was ons net tien. En almal het geweet dat ek, Daniël, Leonard en Matilda die bestes sou wees. Miskien sal dit goed wees om ons storie daar te begin, by die dag toe Zufar en Zandra die aankondiging gedoen het, die dag van die rooison.

Bladsy 96

Die skrywer sit haar woordverwerker af en staan stram op. Sy kyk deur die venster. Dis laatmiddag; die reën is verby. “Kom, Leonard. Matilda!” roep sy haar twee steekhaarbrakkies. Hulle kom aangehuppel. Sy sit hulle halsbandjies aan. Sy sluit die voordeur oop. Die hondjies storm uit en trek haar agter hulle aan. Sy lei hulle veilig oor die straat. Die promenade is verlate. Die reën het seker die gebruiklike stappers weggehou
Sy stap af totdat sy die branders kan sien breek op die blinkswart rotse. Dan loop sy aan met die breë sement- paadjie. Daar sien sy horn sit. Op hulle bankie. Sy gaan sit langs hom. Hy glimlag. Twee middeljarige mense op ’n bankie langs die see.
“Is jou boek klaar?” vra hy.
“Amper.”
Sy dink aan toe sy jonk was en hoe deurmekaar alles gevoel net. En sy dink aan hoe deurmekaar alles nou nog is. Wysheid en ouderdom loop nie noodwendig hand aan hand nie.
“’n Mens sien nie met jou oë nie, maar met jou hart,” sê sy.
“Is dit waaroor jou boek gaan?”
“Ek wens ek het geweet . . . Miskien,” sê sy na ’n rukkie. “’n Mens sien nie met jou oë nie, maar met jou hart,” herhaal sy. “Ek dink ek het dit êrens gelees.”
Sy kyk na die grys wolke wat swaar oor die see hang en wonder of iemand haar ook uitgedink het.

Ferdinand Daniël en Ben

Ferdinand Daniël en Ben kom albei voor in Die hart van Zeebak (Tafelberg, 2004). Ferdinand is die hoofkarakter wat probeer vrede maak met wat die ongeluk aan Ben gedoen het.
Die boek was in 2005 op beide die M-Net-boekprys (kort formaat) en die MER-prys vir kinder- en jeuglektuur se kortlyste.
Toe die storie van Vandag is nie gister nie begin bymekaar kom, het ek skielik besef dat Ferdinand se Leandra, op wie hy so verlief was in Die Hart van Zeebak besonder baie soos Nina in In die tyd van die Esob lyk, dus, natuurlik was Daniël se name Ferdinand Daniël en ná sy ervaring op Zeebak, het hy verkies om Daniël genoem te word . . .

Resensie van Die Hart van Zeebak in Die Burger: 8 Januarie 2005 deur Mariana Loots

Stel jou voor jou stoutste droom word waar. Die een droom wat jy geweet het nie ’n kans het om waar te word nie. Dit is presies wat met Ferdinand Basson gebeur. Bergaf met sy fiets bevind hy hom een laatmiddag skielik op ’n misterieuse dorp, misterieus en stil.
Hier daag ’n eksentrieke inwoner hom tot ’n potjie skaak, maar iets trek sy aandag: Wie is die pragtige blonde meisie wat hom bly ontglip?
Die Hart van Zeebak is ’n boeiende wetenskap- fiksie-verhaal vir tieners rondom 17 jaar. Die hoofkarakter, Ferdinand, was pas klaar met sy matriek eksamen toe hy deur Leandra, ’n inwoner van Zeebak, na ’n ander dimensie ontvoer word. Maar nie alles is pluis nie. Hoekom is daar so baie dinge wat hom aan sy tweelingbroer, Ben, herinner, voor en ná die ongeluk? En waarheen verdwyn die ou oom en tante by wie hy loseer bedags?
Benewens die nagmerries wat Ferdinand teister, bly volg ’n robot hom en ten spyte van al sy vrae, steek Leandra steeds iets vir hom weg. Daar is egter nie tyd om behoorlik oor hierdie dinge te tob nie: iemand moet Nimron en Supremus se bose planne stuit.
Die skrywer, Martie Preller, bied hierdie bildungsroman op kenmerkende wyse aan: ’n jong held moet verskeie (werklik en nie-so-werklike) hindernisse oorkom om dit waarvoor hy bestem is te bereik. Die roman staan veral uit vanweë die keurige taalgebruik. Preller skram nie weg van die moderne woordeskat nie, maar boet geensins die ryke tradisie van die Afrikaanse taaljuwele in nie. Die aanbod en verloop van die verhaal herinner aan een van Preller se vorige romans, In die tyd van die Esob (1996) Laasgenoemde speel ook in ’n surrealistiese werklikheid af en soos dit hoort, oorwin die goeie uiteindelik die slegte.
Die Hart van Zeebak is ’n opwindende, aksiebelaaide jeugroman wat te midde van alles wat gebeur ook onder die oppervlak kyk.
Deur Ferdinand se ervaringe sien lesers hoe om ook dieper dinge te hanteer, selfs al voel dit deel van ’n ander wêreld. Weer eens ’n roman met die Preller-gehaltemerk.

Aanhaling uit Die Hart van Zeebak

Bladsy 43

“Meneer,” begin hy, “het ons nie vanmiddag skaak gespeel nie?”
Die ou man kyk hom uitdrukkingloos aan. “Jong man,” sê hy. “Daar is baie werklikhede. Hierdie is maar een van hulle. Hy glimlag byna onmerkbaar, steek sy hand uit en streel oor die houtmasker. Wat bedoel hy? Baie werklikhede? Ferdinand wil ’n halfmiljoen vrae vra, en tog kan hy nie aan een dink nie. Wat is dit met hom? Dis sy. Dis die flippen alien wat hom so deurmekaar het. Hy is meteens doodmoeg, asof hy van baie, baie ver gekom het.
“Ek is nou net op pad bed toe,” sê die ou man. “Kom, laat ek jou wys waar jy kan slaap.” Hy stap na die kombuisdeel van die vertrek en haal ’n dik wit kers uit ’n kas en druk dit in ’n diep erdeblaker op die kas. Hy loop met die kers na die brandende fakkel en kantel die kers in die vlamme om dit aan te steek. Dit voel vir Ferdinand asof die ou man die een of ander ritueel uitvoer. Hy doen alles so stadig en presies. Dan flikker die dik wit kers onafhanklik van die fakkel. Met ’n kopknik na Ferdinand beduie die ou man hy moet hom volg.
Ferdinand loop soos ’n slaapwandelaar agter hom aan. Hulle klim op met die wenteltrap, die ou man effens moeisaam – sy een hand sleep oor die reling terwyl die ander die kers dra. Die vlammetjie speel heen en weer soos hulle loop. Dalk is hy soos ’n mot wat homself gaan verskroei in die lig?

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SA mosaic

You can click on this mosaic for a larger view.

English readers: This poem in this entry is about South Africa. I dedicated the 14th August 2008 to Afrikaans, the language I love and my mother tongue. This is, in our history, used to be an important day as we celebrated Afrikaans as our language. Afrikaans was forbidden to use by Afrikaans speaking people in the Cape when the English occupied the Cape. A sign/tag was placed around children’s necks in schools saying, “donkey”, if they had dared to speak Afrikaans.

On 14th August 1875 the GRA was founded. Their task was to promote Afrikaans. They also requested – on the 24th August 1878 – for the Bible to be translated into Afrikaans.

In this poem I refer to some places and nature.  On the link of my 2008-entry, you can see the Afrikaans Language Monument. Good news for Afrikaans too: WordPress and Facebook have gone Afrikaans! If you choose Afrikaans as your language in the settings in WordPress, you will find most terms on your dashboard in Afrikaans. 

Hoogenhout, a famous South African poet, said the following after Afrikaans was forbidden in schools in the early 1920s.

“English! English! All is English! What you see and hear

In our schools, in our churches, our Mother tongue is killed”

Was dit Hoogenhout wat in ‘n gedig gesê het:

“Engels! Engels! Alles Engels! Engels wat jy sien en hoor;
In ons skole, in ons kerke, word ons moedertaal vermoor.
Ag, hoe word ons volk verbaster, daartoe werk ons leraars saam.
Hollands nog in seek’re skole: is bedrog, ‘n blote naam!
Wie hom nie laat anglisere, word geskolde en gesmaad.
Tot in Vrystaat en Transvaal al, oweral dieselfde kwaad.
‘Dis vooruitgang’, roep die skreeuwers, ‘dis beskawing wat nou kom!
Die wat dit nie wil gelowe, die is ouderwets en dom…’.”

 I‘ve been to a few countries and many places in the UK. I still think South Africa is the most beautiful country in the world. We have such an abundance of beauty and  diversity in nature. We have the greenest canyon in the world- which is also the 3rd largest in the world, we have the highest waterfall in Africa and the 2nd highest in the world, the 3rd longest Tufa waterfall, the deepest mines, the largest zoo, the smallest butterfly, the largest diamond, the second largest amount of windmills on farms (280 000), the largest impact crater on earth, white lions, the largest ostrich population and much more.

On this link of the  The Drakensberg Mountains, you can read about my hiking trip in the Mountain when I was 15. I was on top of Mount Aux Sources, the highest peak of the mountain range in South Africa. The actual highest peak of this mountain range is in Lesotho and the peak is called, Thaba Ntlenyana (which means: beautiful little mountain). “Thaba” means “mountain” – the attributive “yana” means “little”. 

You can see a pic of one of the two chain ladders you have to go on to reach the summit. At the bottom of this post I have included an Afrikaans song by the Art teacher in my Secondary school. He was one of the two teachers on our hiking trip! He sings about “sidewalk people” and I’ve translated it roughly for you to understand.

More interesting facts – from quite a few years ago:

*Pretoria has the second largest number of embassies in the world after Washington, D.C.
*The University of South Africa – UNISA – is a pioneer of tertiary distance education and is the largest international correspondence university in the world with 250,000 students.
*Afrikaans is the youngest official language in the world.
*The Singita Private Game Reserve in the Kruger National Park was voted the best hotel in the world by the readers of travel publication, Conde Nast Traveller.
*Stellenbosch University was the first university in the world to design and launch a microsatellite.
*South Africa houses one of the three largest telescopes in the world at Sutherland in the Karoo.

South Africa is the first country to host a Fide rated Chess tournament where players from different countries played their games online! See my entry about the South African Open Chess Championships that took place in Cape Town.
Read
HERE my post dedicated to Afrikaans only- last year 14th August. 

Afrikaanse Patriot

This stamp was issued October 1975. It was issued on the Inauguration of the Afrikaans Language Monument  and features the 1st edition of the Arikaanse Partiot (January 15, 1876), one of the first newspapers in Afrikaans rather than Dutch.
On this link you can see more stamps of South Africa.

Met die stigting van die Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners op 14 Augustus 1875 in die Paarl is ‘n tydvak van georganiseerde stryd om die Afrikaanse taal ingelui. In artikel IX van die Genootskap se bepalings word beoog om ‘n Afrikaanse maandblad uit te gee. Op hierdie dag in 1876 verskyn die eerste uitgawe van die maandblad Die Afrikaanse Patriot, wat die orgaan van die GRA sou wees. C.P. Hoogenhout was die eerste redakteur onder die skuilnaam Oom Lokomotief, wat deur die redakteurs na hom oorgeneem is. In Die Patriot dek die GRA die terreine van hul doelstelling, naamlik die van land, volk en taal. Daarin is leiding gegee ten opsigte van landsake, die Afrikaanse taal, geskiedenis en belangrike nuus. —lees meer op die link!

LEES HIER!!

Jan 2015 –Indien jy beplan om my eie gedigte te ‘leen’ vir jou Facebook bladsy of jou privaat blog of website, kan jy asseblief so vriendelik wees om my daaroor in te lig en daarna ook my skryfnaam ‘Nikita’ daarby te publiseer -soos dit by al my eie gedigte hier op my blog is! Dit is ‘n klein en simpel versoek. Ek vind my eie gedigte op heelwat ander websites and dit is vir my aangenaam om te weet dat ander mense my gedigte waardeer, maar daar is kopiereg reëls en ek sal dit waardeer indien jy dit sal respekteer en erkenning gee aan die skrywer van die gedig. Baie dankie dat jy verstaan.

 

Suid-Afrika: my land

Jy’s indrukwekkend, manjifiek
jou sondeurdrenkte landskappe
weerkaats helder beelde in my siel
jou pragtige wonders flikker oneindig
lank in die stilte van jou nagrus

Mount Aux Sources – so elegant en grasieus
verrys jy vanuit die voetheuwels, soos
‘n fakkel by die Spele ets jy lekkende
beelde teen die muur van my geheue
en voel ek jou hitte gloeiend teen my hart

O Blyde! ek fantaseer oor jou
magiese kragte wat jy sorgloos
en galant in die galery van my
stille gemoed stilletjies uitpak terwyl
my dawerende applous eggo
oor die velde van my gedagtes

Moederstad! hoe inskiklik laat jy my
telkens hakkel wanneer ek my herinneringe
sagkens koester – jou fasades!
waar ek jou gambiet betree
en gewillig my pionne oorgee

En saans voel ek jou fluweelagtige
skoonheid van elke sonsondergang
stadig neerdaal in my gemoed terwyl
ek stadig drink van jou geloofs-fonteine
wat borrellend bruis in oorvloed

Fragmentaries vier ek feeste
ek dans en omhels jou en jy –
jy blus my gees telkens met jou
magiese heildronke: een-vir-een
op ‘n toekoms – wat mag wees!
–Nikita –14/8/09 14:00

sidewalk people

Sidewalk People

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

I wish I could look at a photo
to see what your world deep inside is like
borrow a piece of your dreams
I wonder who you are

I wish I could understand the language
in which you channelled your thoughts
I wish I could for a moment
share your path of life

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

perhaps it’s best for sure
‘cos if we know all of all
the sadness maybe
too hard too much
the love too beautiful

walk past one another
I stay I and you stay you
a single road leading somewhere
I wish I could understand

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

—translated–nikita

sypaadjiemense

image: google

Sypaadjie Mense

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

ek wens ek kon ‘n kiekie kyk
hoe jou wêreld diep daar binne lyk
‘n stukkie van jou drome leen
ek wonder wie jy is

ek wens ek kon die taal verstaan
waarin jy jou gedagtes baan
ek wens ek kon ‘n oomblikkie
jou lewenspaadjie deel

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

miskien is dit dalk beter so
want as ons iets van almal weet
die hartseer dalk te swaar te veel
die liefde dalk te mooi

stap maar bymekaar verby
ek bly ek en jy bly jy
‘n enkelpaadjie iewers heen
ek wens ek kon verstaan

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby


Sypaadjie Mense – Johan vd Watt

 

Sonja Herholdt, Ek verlang na jou.

Herman Holtzhausen – Transkaroo

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Grys ou Stad

English Readers: This is my own pantoum, in Afrikaans. On this link you can read about Pantoums and the rules and try your own too! I wrote mine about London.

Mnr Muller het my “gedaag” om ‘n Pantoen te skryf. Hy het reeds twee op sy blog geplaas en baie goed daarin geslaag om sy gedagtes neer te pen. Jy kan op sy inskrywing ook lees wat ‘n Pantoen is en die reëls vir die skrywe van ‘n Pantoen. Sy tweede pantoen veral is iets wat jy moet lees, kom uit ‘n wêreld van liefde en romanse! hehe…baie goed, mnr muller! Volg die link om syne te lees. Hy was nuuskierig om te weet wat my onderwerp gaan wees en daarmee natuurlik bietjie druk op my geplaas om een te griffel. Ek was verlede week Donderdag en vandag in London, so bietjie gaan ronddrentel, “shopping” gedoen en net bietjie die tyd geniet na die afgelope byna jaar wat ek toe was onder die druk van studies/skool ens. ens. en ek wou myself ook bietjie bederf voordat ek eerskomende Donderdag terug in die tuig is… die keer weer permanent. O ja, ons kook natuurlik uit hier in London die afgelope paar dae! Vandag is die temperatuur 30 grade C! 

 Ek het besluit my onderwerp gaan “London” wees – die stad. Ek het so ‘n klompie foto’s geneem tussen die twee dae, nie te erg aangegaan nie, net so hier en daar. Die eerste drie is sommer vanuit Starbucks geneem! Ek kort ook ‘n nuwe kamera! Dis my volgende bederf en beslis voor einde Julie wanneer ons somervakansie aanbreek. O ja, het ek genoem dat ons verlede week saam met die Suid-Afrikaanse Nasionale “Pool”-span op die trein gereis het! Hulle was oppad na die Wêreldkampioenskappe in Blackpool. Dit was lekker om met hul te kon gesels en een van die jong latte in die span was vreeslik uit sy vel op die trein. Die knaap moet net volgende keer die musiek uit sy ore haal as hy op die trein praat, want hy het byna die hele trein verskree met sy uitbundigheid om in London te wees – musiek en al  in sy ore! Ons het heerlik vir hom gelag. Eers gaan ek die foto’s plaas en dan kan jy na die foto’s kyk en so bietjie jou verbeelding laat “gaan” as jy my geskrywe lees. Jy kan later terugkom vir meer foto’s – wat ek in ‘n nuwe inskrywing sal plaas. Al die foto’s is in Oxfordstraat geneem.

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Grys ou Stad

die son brand fel neer op hierdie dag
waar dit woel en krioel –  van vroeg tot laat
leë siele loop onbeduidend met niksseggende gedagtes
kruiend staar hul tot êrens in die verlede rond

waar dit woel en krioel – van vroeg tot laat
oer-stemme eggo helder in my gedagtes
kruiend staar hul tot êrens in die verlede rond
en messel dit wat is met dit wat was

oer-stemme eggo helder in my gedagtes
leë siele loop onbeduidend met niksseggende gedagtes
en messel dit wat is met dit wat was
die son brand fel neer op hierdie dag

Nikita-29/6/09 (inderhaas: 14:30)

Ek moet dalk bietjie verduidelik: “kruiend” glo ek nie is ‘n Afrikaanse woord nie, ek’s nie seker nie. Ek weet van “kruie” – soos in drentel (behalwe natuurlik kruie wat jy in kos gebruik) en ek het besluit om “kruiend” hier te gebruik. ‘n Nuwe woord? Dan, hierdie gegriffel is oor die ou stad, daarom al die “ou” en “verlede”, die mense wat – hopenlik – die historiese “beleef” – of hul gedagtes wat terugflits wanneer hul die ou geboue/historiese plekke sien/beleef…dan die mense wat doelloos in die strate rondbeweeg…soos maar in enige ander plek. Hoop dit maak als sin! – sien my ander “weergawe”… ek was nie heeltemal gelukkig met die vloei van die eerste een nie. Ek het ook so bietjie raad van mnr muller ter harte geneem! Ek het die straatnaam en name van geboue in Oxfordstraat ingebring. Op die laaste twee foto’s kan jy Niketown sien.

onder die grys ou verlede

die son brand fel neer op hierdie dag
bleek figure drentel onbeduidend met verwaarloosde gedagtes
kruiend staar die stad tot êrens in die verle’
oxford woel en krioel – van niketown tot centre point

bleek figure drentel onbeduidend met verwaarloosde gedagtes
in my gedagtes weerklink oer-oue stemme van lank gele’
oxford woel en krioel – van niketown tot centre point
moeiteloos messel ek dit was is met dit wat was

in my gedagtes weerklink oer-oue stemme van lank gele’
kruiend staar die stad tot êrens in die verle’
moeiteloos messel ek dit wat is met dit wat was
die son brand fel neer op hierdie dag
–30/6/09 (12:30)

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Ek het ‘n vorige inskrywing gehad van die 1916-Huisgenoot en drie publikasies daarmee saam. Jy kan die link aan die einde van hierdie inskrywing vind en die publikasies in PDF aflaai. Hierdie gediggies in hierdie inskrywing kom almal van die drie publikasies en ek plaas hulle onveranderd. Hier kan jy vergelyk en sien hoe Afrikaans as taal ontwikkel het. Ek hou veral van die laaste gediggie waar die Boer beskryf is gedurende die oorlog.

Diep in ‘t hart

Diep in ‘t hart verborgen,
Onbewust en stil,
Onder smart en zorgen,
Woont een heil’ge wil.

Wonen moog’likheden,
Die geen tijd nog weet,
Kracht voor eenwigheden,
Leniging voor leed.

Dieper zult gij kennen
Eens, dit wonder hart,
Dat aan leed moet wennen
En aan wrede smart.

Dieper zult gij graven
In uw hartegrond:
Bronnen zullen laven
Uw versmachte mond.

Weet in ‘t nederdalen
Vindt ge diep-ontroerd:
Wat uit smart en kwalen
U tot beter voert.
R.v.D.

Huweliksgebooie

Ek hoor klanke in die toekoms –
klanke nes van huwliksklokke
Tongelonge- vreug en blijdskap
weergalm in die tempelnokke.

Mannekrag en vrouweskoonheid
word verbind om één te lewe,
om één pad van voor- en teenspoed
op te gaan en voort te strewe.

Als die één sig wil verloen
om die ander toe te eie,
dan het hul mekaar tot trouwpand-
dat dit tot geluk gedije!
PIET

De Vlam

O vlamme, vol mysterieglans
In ‘t grillig weven van uw lijnen,
O, glanzend sehone lichtekrans.
Die duisterheden doet verdwijnen,
Vol sproke is uw lichtgetril.
Geheimnisvol uw ganse wezen,
Waar gij in donk’re nachte, stil
En levend komt omhoog gerezen.

Ik zag uw zachte, milde gloed
In ‘t oude kerkje. ‘t Eeuwig branden
Van Gods groot harte deed weer moed
M’ in ‘t harte dalen en mijn handen,
–Die lang vergeten hadden in symbool
Het smeken van het harte weer te geven —
Ze vouwden zieh… Mijn ziel ontstool
Een bede zich om licht en leven.
R.v.D.

Op moed verloor se vlak

Jij vra mij: Is jij dapper?
En hoop jij nog te win,
Hoe hoog ook stijg die donker wolk,
Hoe klein die kans, die moed hoe min?
Jij vra mij: Is jij dapper?
En is dit naar jouw sin?

Ek antwoord: Nee, nie dapper!
Ek is te sleg en swak,
Ek weet, die taak is al te groot:
Mijn hart is bijna hoop ontbloot.
Ek dool op Moed-verloor se vlak,
Ek antwoord: Nee, nie dapper:
Ek is halfpad mak.

Jij vra mij: Glo jij seker,
Dat God sal uitkoms gee?
Ons het so baje hard geveg
En moed en hoop en krag is weg
Daar is geen hoop op uitkoms, nee!
Jij vra mij: Glo jij seker?
Met oë blind van wee?

Ek antwoord: Skijn die sterre
Vir altijd dag en nag
Hoe kan jij ooit die son se skijn
Bespeur, als skemerlig verdwijn?
Hoe kan jij ooit die daglig wag?
Ek antwoord: Man, die sterre,
Die gee mij nuwe krag!

Ja, ek was op die vlakte
Waar mense moed verloor:
Daar het ek in mijn siel gebewe
Daar baje dinge aangehoor;
Maar ek is uit die vlakte
En bo sijn skaduws oor.
C. Louis Leipoldt

Die Verkenner
(Naar die Duits van Fritz Lienhard)

Daar onder blink ‘n witte lijn:
Die vijandstente! Die gewere staan
In hopies. Sidderende sonneskijn
Hang oor die krans; die windjies kom en gaan
En laat die sand oor pad en vlakte stuiwe.
Die kop lê doodstil! Net ‘n akkedis,
Wat rads en ritslend deur die bossies roer,
Soek wildverskrik ‘n skeurtjie om te rus.
En dan ‘n perdekop, geblaas, gesnuiwe —
‘n Hoed en Mauser — oor die klippe loer
Twee oë– dan weer weg. Dit was ‘n Boer!
J.F.W.G.

Op hierdie link kan jy ou Huisgenote van 1916 in PDF-formaat aflaai en nog meer “vroeë” Afrikaanse gedigte lees wat in die ou Huisgenote verskyn het.

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elwe

 Image: Wikimedia

‘n Blogger het my vandag gevra na “Die Elwekoning”…sien haar boodskap op “my gedigte/poems”-bladsy. Ek kon geen spoor van die gedig, in Afrikaans vertaal, kry nie. Dit was vir my ‘n aangrypende gedig toe ek dit in Engels lees en het ek besluit ek vertaal dit gou vir haar. 

English readers: I’ve translated this Goethe-poem in Afrikaans for a blog-reader. As a rule I don’t like to translate, only if the poem is really touchy or if it “speaks” to me…almost like this Erl King-poem. On “my poems/gedigte” page you will find a few translations…English to Afrikaans vice versa and a few of my own which I tried. I’m no professional, I have done no particular course in writing poetry, so WYSIWYG…what you see is what you get. Just my own thoughts in words.

Die Elwe-Koning
Wie ry daar so laat deur die donker, somb’re nag?
Dis ‘n vader met sy kind
Hy hou die knaap klemmend in sy arm
Hy hou hom veilig, hy hou hom warm.

“My seun, waarom lyk jy so beangs?”
“Sien vader nie die Elwekoning nie?
 Die Elwekoning met sy kroon en trein?”
“My liewe kind, dis mis wat opstoot in die vlakte.”

“Kom nou, liewe kind, kom nou saam met my
Ek het lekker speletjies om met jou te speel.
Lieflike blomme blom op die strand,
My moeder het baie kledingstukke van goud.”

“My vader, my vader, hoor jy nie die
 beloftes wat die Elwekoning fluister vir my?”
“Wees rustig  my kind, bedaar, dis die
 nagtelike wind se ritseling deur gedroogde blaar’ .”

“Wil jy nie saam met my kom, my seun?
My dogters sal jou liefderyk versorg,
My dogters dans hul nagtelike dans
Hul sal jou wieg totdat jy slaap.”

“My vader, my vader, sien jy nie daar?
Die Elwekoning-dogters in die donker daar?”
“My seun, my seun, ek sien duidelik
hoe grys die wilgerbome lyk.”

“Ek’s lief vir jou, jou skoonheid bekoor my, my seun.
En as jy nie gewillig is, dan moet ek jou forseer!”
“Nee vader, my vader, hy gryp my arm!
Die Elwekoning het my seer gemaak!”

Die pa sidder, sy ry is wild
In sy arms hou hy die kermende kind
Hy kom tuis met ‘n geswoeg en gesweet
In sy arms – die lewelose kind.

Nikita-25/6/09
Oorspronklike gedig deur Goethe

Oeps! Hier het ek so pas die vertaling van SJ du Toit op Litnet opgespoor..waarom kon ek dit nie twee dae terug kry nie? Omdat ek Elwekoning twee woorde gespel het! ..wel, nou kan jy my vertaling vergelyk en natuurlik sien waarom ek nie ‘n digter is nie! hehe
Die Elwekoning
(Goethe)
Wie ry daar so laat deur nag en wind?
Dit is ‘n vader met sy kind;
Hy druk die knapie so styf in die arm,
Hy hou hom veilig, hy koester hom warm.

“My seuntjie berg bang sy gesiggie, vir wie?”
“Sien Vader die Elwekoning dan nie?
Die Elwekoning met mantel en sleep?”
“My kind, dit is ‘n newelstreep.”

“Kom, kindjielief, kom saam met my!
So heerlik speel hul waar ek bly;
Veelkleurige blomme groei op die strand,
Van goud gaan jou kleed wees uit moeder se hand.”-

“My Pappie, is Pappie dan heeltemal doof
Vir wat Elwekoning my saggies beloof?”
“Bly stil, wees rustig maar, my kind!
In dorre blare duisel die wind.”-

“Gaan jy, lief seuntjie, met my saam?
My dogters ken almal reeds jou naam;
My dogters dans voor die nagt’like rei
En wieg jou en dans en sing so bly.” –

“My Vader, kan Vader dan glad nie gewaar
Elwekonig se dogters in die donker kol daar?”
“My seuntjie, my seuntjie, ek sien dit heel goed:
Die ou-gras skyn geel aan die randjie se voet?”

“Jou skoonheid bemin ek, my siel is ontsteld;
En as jy nie wil nie, gebruik ek geweld!”
“My Pappie, my Pappie, nou vat hy my raak!
Elwekoning het my seer gemaak!”

Die vader skrik; hy ry soos die wind,
En hou in sy arms die kreunende kind,
Bereik sy plaas in bange nood;
Die kind lê in sy arms dood.
Vertaling – SJ du Toit

erl dancers


The Erl-King

WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear;
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp’d in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.

“My son, wherefore seek’st thou thy face thus to hide?”
“Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?”
“My son, ’tis the mist rising over the plain.”

“Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
Full many a game I will play there with thee;
On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold.”

“My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?”
“Be calm, dearest child, ’tis thy fancy deceives;
‘Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves.”

“Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care
My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
They’ll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep.”

“My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?”
“My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
‘Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight.”

“I love thee, I’m charm’d by thy beauty, dear boy!
And if thou’rt unwilling, then force I’ll employ.”
“My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last.”

The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,–
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.

Erlkönig
Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind.
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?
Siehst Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht!
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron’ und Schweif?
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.

Du liebes Kind, komm geh’ mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele, spiel ich mit dir,
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind,
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.

Willst feiner Knabe du mit mir geh’n?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön,
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düsteren Ort?
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh’es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.

Ich lieb dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt,
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt!
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an,
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan.

Dem Vater grauset’s, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in den Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not,
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.

(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1778)

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Aksioom

Image: http://iasos.com/artists/annenberg/sell.html
Do yourself a favour and visit the artist’s site to see the complete image. The link will open in a new window.

This is an Afrikaans poem I tried to write, you can slide down and listen to Any Williams. Ja, ek sê ‘probeer’ omdat ek nie voel dat ek heeltemal geslaagd was nie, maar gee maar jou opinie – wat dit ookal mag wees. Onthou ook: EK is NIE ‘n professionele digter nie. Ek *probeer* om ‘n paar woorde bymekaar te sit en hoop dit maak sin. As jy ‘n digter is, kyk asb met *ander* oë na hierdie ‘samevoegsel’ van woorde!

Geniet Andy Williams se Love Story!

Aksioom
(stelling wat waar is sonder bewyse)

My beleë gedagtes
het danig met ‘n pyl
die dampkring om ons
huiwerig binnegedring

Afsydig het jy die die buikgord
van jou hart buitengewoon
ingetrek en daarmee saam
die sfeer om ons vernou

Balhorig het ek met woorde
jou gebombardeer
besimpeld-besluiteloos
het jy die dekmantel
gelig en stadig begin delf
in ‘n argaïese verlede

Domastrant en diktatoriaal
het jy ondersoekend erken:
‘n dilemma… en aanvaar jy
aanspreeklikheid as skipper
en red die breukeling

Selfversekerd en delikaat
het jy my gedagtes omvou
lugleegtes doodgelag en
doodluiters my hart bedraad.

-Nikita-17/5/09

Andy Williams: Love Story

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_tablemountain

Table Mountain, Cape Town, South Africa

I was tagged by Skoor  to post an entry about my favourite music. Well, I’ve done so many entries about music before, especially classical music that I’ve decided to blog a few tracks from my other favourites. I think all the music files in this entry refer to love  which is quite important in our lives! Many of my chess-player-friends on Chessworld know that I have a passion for my country/language and therefore the first song is an Afrikaans song. Steve sings it and he’s one of my favourite singers. In this entry you can also listen to a few love songs which I blogged with a couple of love-poems and you can listen to Steve singing in English! As a poetry-lover, I have also a poem for you to enjoy; music, poetry and love…hmm…you can’t separate it…and I have a movie for you, about SA of course, with some beautiful music…this time, classical music!

This first Afrikaans song is a love song and the title says in English ..”Far away from here”…and that’s what I am…far from South Africa…my beloved country!

steve

Steve Hofmeyr – Ver hier vandaan

dan-fogelberg

I was introduced to this song by one of my friends when I was a student and I still like this song.

Dan Fogelberg – Leader of the band


I was asked by
a blogreader to translate the following poem – which is originally an Afrikaans poem –  into English. It’s a poem that will “touch” you. On the link you can read the Afrikaans poem, actually, I don’t think Afrikaans speaking readers will read it as we all know this poem very well!  I had to know it by heart when I was at primary. It’s part of our history and I even believe that many other culture groups in South Africa also know the poem. This is a poem written by one of our National Poets, A G Visser and it’s based on the truth. I have a link for you in this post where you can read the history behind the poem.

Amakeia

A G VISSER- poem translated

In the shadow of the mountains
bush-sheltered on all sides
stands alone the wattle-and-daub hut
on the boarder of Kaffircountry.

Softly Amakeia hums
on the banks of the River Kei
till he sleeps, the tender baby
of the white pioneer:

“Hush now, hush now, hush Little One
see how the evening star twinkles
No one will hurt you, Little One
hush now, even if Mummy isn’t near.”

Amakeia had promised
when her madam was dying
to look after her vulnerable baby
till he’s a grown-up boy.

Lovingly she cares
for the white child
till the light of day beams
from Amakeia’s friendly-loyal black face.

She sees the ominous
signs of war:
Quick the invasion, home and haven
Slaughtered and burnt down

Selflessly, death defying
with the white child on her back
to the Amakeia mountains
she’d hastily fled

“Hush now, hush now, Pikanini
over the mountains the moon rises
No one will see us here
Tomorrow we’ll go home.”

Oh, that the eyes of the scouts
had to discover their hiding place!
“Save him, he’s so little!” she begs
with hands stretched out.

Ragingly snarled the wild gang:
“Die or give the white child here!”
“Over my lifeless body,”
replied Amakeia vivaciously.

“My promise to my madam,
the best I could asked for:
Where he goes, Amakeia goes,
to care for him.”

“Unite in death
If in life you can’t be parted.
Quick death with her, Maxosas,
Let the glinting spears rain down!”

In the Amatola valleys
Howls only the winter wind
through the reeds in the moonlight:
“Tula-tula – sleep my child.”

Translated:
(c) Nikita 9:30 14/2/2009

Please click here to read  about the history behind the poem. The link will open in a new window.

A few years ago, when I taught 11 year old kiddies in SA, I used this next  song in a listening skills exercise. About 2 years ago, when I walked the streets of London, this song came to my mind – of course also the lesson I taught! – and I thought by myself…what Roger sings  is so true.  I’ve never thought that I would one day walk the streets of London and experience what he sings in this song!
lady-in-london
Image: geographyofgrace.com

Roger Whittaker – Streets of London

streets-of-london
Image: flickr.com: 2350/2261847707_ce11506ce7

I do like Katie’s music…she’s a lovely artist….do enjoy this song!


Katie Melua – The closest thing to crazy

crazy-love1

Image: designbydani.com

Dennis East is a South African artist. Enjoy his song…I think this is a ’80’s song. Listen closely to the words! and Queen will always be on my music menu! The last song…For a kiss…is a cute song! Listen and enjoy!

Dennis East – A Rose has to die
dying-rose
Image: farm3.static.flickr.com/2117/2268046339_6ec9b65f42


Queen – Somebody to love

kiss06


Venice – For a kiss

Amatola mountains
The Amatola mountains in South Africa

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De Huisgenoot

Huisgenoot

This entry is like scrambled eggs! ..some English..some Afrikaans… some reading…some listening…some chess, some poetry, make your pick and choose what you want to do…and I hope you find something good here….I’m going to explain in short what the magazine is about. This is a South African family magazine, since the 1900’s and I’ve blogged about it before, but want to blog more and focus more on poetry that was published in these issues and about the fashion of the time and whatever you’ll find here…it’s really a mix! The three issues are in this post as PDF files if you want to download it and my other entry is only in  English, if you want to click on the link to read the English-entry posted in 2007.

You will find a poem by Goethe.. The Fisherman…translated in Afrikaans in 1915/6 – by someone. The poet’s name was unfortunately not published, only initials, at least it said that the poem was translated from the German-poem. The poems in this entry are written in Afrikaans, but Afrikaans was still busy developing and you will spot the similarities to the Dutch Language in the words/phrases. By looking at these images you can get a pretty good idea of what the fashion of the time was like, the captions with the images will also guide you and you’ve thought that my blog is a chess blog only…hehe..actually, my blog says…anything/everything and chess! But as always, I will try and link something in my entry to chess, if possible! So…here it goes…some extracts of sites – links which you can follow too – that tells us that chess was a game that was enjoyed by South Africans too…from early years on….and for those of you who want to listen so some beautiful Afrikaans music…there’s a song for you to listen to…called..”Korreltjie Sand” – (grain of sand), the poem of Ingrid Jonker…as sung by Chris Chameleon.
The following three links are pdf’s which you can download and it’s old Huisgenoot-mags. All the links will open in a new window. These files are quite large, they do take a few seconds to download. Wees geduldig!
huisgenoot-julie-1916

huisgenoot-junie-1916

huisgenoot-mei-1916

This  link is from my blogwhere I’ve previously posted in English about Ingrid Jonker with external links you can enjoy. She comitted suicide by walking into the sea.

 By downloading the pdf-format of the old Huisgenoot issues, you can compare the covers which is interesting to see how much it’s changed. Even the format has changed over the years from a quite larger format to what it is now.

At the bottom of this link, – for people who want to do some “listening” only…there are some music files…some music from the good old “past”…I know the South Africans reading here – especially if you’re not “at home” – will appreciate these songs… and if you want to download the songs in a zip folder, go to this blog and voila! music-a-la-in-a-jiffy…or is it in a “zip”-py! For English “foreigners” reading here…”Rabbit” was one of South Africa’s rock band of the mid 70’s and they had a big hit…”Charlie”…read about Trevor Rabin…one member of the band…and why he’s now in Hollywood! You can listen to Charlie too…and a few other brilliant songs…all by Saffa-artists. Do enjoy! The first song at the bottom of this post, is an Afrikaans love song though..so go on, play it for your girl friend/boy friend…the title of the song…something like..”Are you still thinking of me”?

If you can’t read the following paragraph…it is Afrikaans!  Ek het in Sept 2007 ‘n blog-inskrywing gemaak oor die 1916-Huisgenoot en hier sal jy ook die skakel kry na Tukkies waar ek die Huisgenoot-publikasies gekry het. Dit is in PDF-formaat en die skakels sal in ‘n nuwe bladsy oopmaak. Elkeen van die publikasies is sowat 8 MB en neem ‘n paar sekondes om af te laai en oop te maak. Wees maar bietjie geduldig. Daar is nog ‘n paar gediggies vanuit hierdie toeka-se-dae-uitgawes wat ek sal byvoeg met die tyd. Ek hoop julle geniet die musiek hier ook!

Chess played in South Africa in the early years:
Organised club league chess is over 100 years old in Cape Town. Cape Town chess club, the oldest in South Africa (founded in 1885) together with Woodstock, Tokai and the YMCA club formed a union of clubs in 1907. Each club entered one team in the league at a fee of 1 pound-1-0 per team in the same year.
Teams of five competed in the inaugural competition. Cape Town was expected to win and did so but only by one point. In the double round robin they scored 10 match points, Woodstock 9, YMCA 6 and Tokai 0. Cape Town sensationally lost in the opening round to Woodstock, a club barely a year old, and had to field to their strongest possible team for the replay which they won by a single point. Source: Chess for all. The link will open in a new window.
Some Chess records …about South Africa…
Longest running correspondence chess rivalry. Reinhart Straszacker and Hendrick van Huyssteen, both of South Africa, played their first game of correspondence chess in 1946. They played for over 53 years, until Straszacker died in 1999. They played 112 games, with both men winning 56 games each. Source…
https://www.chess.com/article/view/records-in-chess
The Chessmaster Borislav Kosti toured South Africa in the 1920’s. I’ve lost my original link about him, but  found another link…just after his image…and here’s a wiki-link too..http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borislav_Kosti%C4%87

Bora (Borislav) Kosti a Chess Grandmaster of the 1920’s

http://www.chess.vrsac.com/vrsac/BoraKosticE.asp

Bora Kostic was born on 24 February 1887 in Vrsac. His first chess steps he started when he was ten, and as early as he was in grammar school he was one of the best chess-players in Vrsac. His biggest competitor from the grammar school days was five years older, Sava Gerdec, who taught him the chess theory. Their fight for the chess reputation was finished when Kostic went to study to Budapest. He finished Oriental trade academy there, but without neglecting chess.
His first great chess result was achieved in Budapest 1909, when he won at the tournament of the greatest Hungarian chess amateurs. This victory opened the door of the Vienna chess society to young Kostic, and that was the chess metropolis of that time.

In 1911 he achieved sensational victory in the match with the American champion, Frank Marshall. His first real “baptism of fire” Bora Kostic had that same year at the International grand master tournament Karsbad (Karlove Vari). In extraordinarily strong competition he won the title of the international master. Then followed the visit to Nordic countries where he won over the champions of Danmark and Sweden, as well as the very powerful Rudolf Spielmann.

In 1913 he moved to the capital of Argentina, Buenos Aires where he worked as the chess lecturer at the Military academy. He had been cruising on one Argetine warship across many seas. In Argentina he won in the matches with all their best players, and also the champion of this country, Roland Ilja, 6:0.

In 1915 he went to New York and started the chess tour from the east to the west coast. On that famous six-month-long tour, Bora Kostic achieved the world record in the number of played games on simultaneous exhibitions. Out of 3281played games he lost only 112, and made draw in 237. During his stay in America he visited Nikola Tesla, while he was the chess teacher to the famous tenor singer Enrico Caruso.Playing numerous games and tournaments, master tournament of the “Manhattan chess” club being the most famous in 1918, Bora Kostic was ranked immediately after Capablanca on the whole American continent. Especially because their four games played at two tournaments ended draw. That was why their match in 1919 happened, when the genius Capablanca won with the great result.

In the same year he returned to Europe and in Hastings took the second place after Capablanca. The next year in Hastings he took the first place with 100% gained points, which nobody repeated during the long tradition of this tournament. Then came important tournament results: Gothenburg 1920 – IV place, Budapest 1921 – III-IV place, Hague 1921 IV-V place. In England he played simultaneous games and blind productions, animating the chess world with enthusiasm.

In Yugoslavia of that time the rivalry between dr Milan Vidmar and Bora Kostic was evident. Unfortunately, the match, the result of which should have shown who should have been given the title of the Yugoslav champion, was never organized.

Bora Kostic especially liked to travel and see new countries and customs, but also to play at the chess tournaments during those travels. So he organized world chess tour which lasted from 11 November 1923 to 28 May 1926. As he himself said to his friend Kosta Jovanovic immediately before the trip: “I want to see the world, those parts of the world that were only the objects of my imagination. I believe that on that trip there will be a lot of interest for chess. ” That was the mission which brought commercial success of great scale to the world chess. Certain Yugoslav master, demonstrating chess on, so to speak every step, in different countries, talks about his homeland about which many people have never even heard before. First he set off to Australia and New Zealand. Then over South Africa overland to Kenia, where the famous match on the equator was played. Bora Kostic was on the northern hemisphere, and his opponent on the south. His next stop was India, where he was at the end met by maharaja from Patiale (Schandagar), who organized tournaments on the hights of the Himalayas. From there he went to Nepal and on Tibet, and then to the island of Java in Indonesia. From Java he crossed to Sumatra where he played with the chief of the Bataki tribe. From there he moved to the Philipines, and then to Hong Kong and China. From China he moved to the Soviet Union from where his return to Vrsac began. Through Siberia, over Irkutsk, Novosibirsk, Omsk, Sverdlovsk, Moskow, Odessa, Leningrad to Riga. Everywhere he played simultaneous matches, blind games, matches, and as he himself confessed the greatest number of lost games he had, were played just in the Soviet Union. Finally, at the end of May 1926, he arrived to Vrsac and ended the first part of his trip around the world at the chess-board. Tireless chess traveller, he put foundations for the future chess links among the peoples of the whole world. …

First chess Olympics were played in 1927. godine. Bora Kostic played at the first board of the Yugoslav representation and won 8,5 points out of 15 games. The following year he won in Trencanske Toplice, and in 1930 he was IV in Nice. In the same year he continued his trip around the world. He went to Mexico where he stayed eight months. From there he went to Cuba, then to America, and came back from there in the middle of 1931 to arrive to the Olympics which took place in Prague. On that Olympics Yugosalvia was IV, the contribution of Bora Kostic on the third board was very important.Then came extraordinarily strong tournament in Bled , which was marked by the world champion Alekhin.

The first Yugoslav championships took place in 1935 in Belgrade. Bora Kostic shared the first place with Vasja Pirc. Bora Kostic achieved the greatest tournament result in 1938 in Ljubljana at the Yugoslav championships. With 10,5 points out of 15 games he won over the best Yugoslav players, as well as over Szabo, Tartakower and Steiner.

At the beginning of World War II the chess activity stopped for all those who did not want to play in Nazi Germany. Among them was also Bora Kostic who spent some time in the concentration camp in Veliki Beckerek (Zrenjanin) because of his patriotism. After the war he took part at several championships and smaller tournaments, and the last competition at which he won was the tournament of veterans – Zurich 1962.

Bora Kostic died in Belgrade, 3 November 1963. Perhaps, when we take into consideration only the objective power of some players, Uncle Bora would not be ranked in the world top. It may happen that his rich talent has worn out on his road filled with all kinds of events. The circumstances he lived under later did not allow him to fullfill his creative potentials to their full extent. However, as the chess-player he was a unique, extraordinary person. He devoted his life to chess and he was thrilled with it to the end of his life.The magic of the chess game took him to the great life adventure – to the long journey through the exotic, in that time unknown world. Source: See the link  by his photo- it will open in a new window. You can play through his games on the link too.

Beauty products

Vrouens: Skoonheidsorg produkte/Women: Beauty products

Necklines and hairstyles

Mode : Neklyne en haarstyle / Fashion: Necklines and hairstyles

Girl's dress

Girl's dress

Married-couple

Marriage-couple

Mode/Fashion

Mode/Fashion

Modes van 1916/Fashion 1916

Modes van 1916/Fashion 1916

Akteurs/Actors

Akteurs/Actors

Chris Chameleon singing “Korreltjie Sand” – (Grain of Sand)

Korreltjie Sand – lyrics

korreltjie korreltjie sand
klippie gerol in my hand
klippie gesteek in my sak
word korreltjie klein en plat
sonnetjie groot in die blou
ek maak net ‘n ogie van jou
blink in my korreltjie klippie
dit is genoeg vir die rukkie

pyltjie geveer en verskiet
liefde verklein in die niet
timmerman bou aan ‘n kis
ek maak my gereed vir die niks
korreltjie klein is my woord
korreltjie niks is my dood
korreltjie klein
korreltjie sand

kindjie wat skreeu uit die skoot
niks in die wêreld is groot
stilletjies lag nou en praat
stilte in doodloopstraat
wêreldjie rond en aardblou
korreltjie maak ek van jou
huisie met deur en twee skrefies
tuintjie met blou madeliefies

pyltjie geveer en verskiet
liefde verklein in die niet
timmerman bou aan ‘n kis
ek maak my gereed vir die niks
korreltjie klein is my woord
korreltjie niks is my dood
korreltjie klein
korreltjie sand (5x)

You can read about Chris Chameleon on this link which will open in a new link.

The Original poem

Korreltjie niks is my dood
Ingrid Jonker (1933-1965)

Korreltjie korreltjie sand
klippie gerol in my hand
klippie gesteek in my sak
word korreltjie klein en plat

Sonnetjie groot in die blou
korreltjie maak ek van jou
blink in my korreltjie klippie
dit is genoeg vir die rukkie

Kindjie wat skreeu uit die skoot
niks in die wêreld is groot
stilletjies lag nou en praat
stilte in doodloopstraat

Wêreldjie rond en aardblou
ek maak net ‘n ogie van jou
huisie met deur en twee skrefies
tuintjie met blou madeliefies

Pyltjie geveer in verskiet
liefde verklein in die niet
Timmerman bou aan ‘n kis
Ek maak my gereed vir die niks

Korreltjie klein is my woord
Korreltjie niks is my dood



Kontras
Wit is die wêreld,
wit van die sneeuw.
Bokant die water
sweef daar ‘n meeuw;
blouw is die hemel,
nergens ‘n wolk:
oral is daar vrede
rondom die kolk.

Spierwitte wêreld,
diep in jouw siel
sug jij en smag jij
om te verniel;
skijn is jouw vrede,
donker jouw hart:
jij is maar blij oor
ander se smart

A D Keet: Amsterdam, Kersmis 1914

Digter Is Hij

Digter is hij, die digters-taal
Diep uit die grond van sijn hart kan haal;
En hij voel in sijn hart ‘n heerlike drang
Om ‘n vlugtige stemming in woorde te vang.

Digter is hij, die verse maak–
Verse, wat duisende harte kan raak.
Maar hij weet nie, waar hij die mag van haal:
Dis ‘n gawe, wat bo uit die hemel daal.

Digter is hij, die oog en oor
Tref met ‘n pragtige woordekoor;
En hij skep sijn lied soos ‘n vooltjie vrij,
Die sijn hele siel aan die wêreld belij.

Digter is hij, die sing en sing,
Fraai als ‘n vooltjie, wat vreugde bring:
Want hij hef sijn stem op ‘n lieflike maat
Van die môre vroeg tot die awend laat.

Digter is hij, die deur en deur
Voel, wat rondom en in hom gebeur;
Die sijn siel se gevoelens uit kan giet
In ‘n lewende, sprekende, roerende lied.

A D Keet

Wagter op die Toring

I
(Januarie 1913)
Wagter op die toring,
sê, wat sien jij daar?
Ek sien duisend-duisendtalle
voor die gragte, voor die walle,
om die vesting aan te val.
Maar geen grag sal hul oor steek nie,
en geen poort sal hul deur breek nie,
want die burgers op die mure
staan getrouw en pal.

Wagter op die toring,
sê, is daar gevaar?
Is eie strijd dan uitgestrede,
dat die vijandsvlag in vrede
oor ons eie vesting waai?
Ag! die wagter lê in bande,
neergevel in bitt’re skande,
want die burgers op die mure
het die burg verraai.

II
(Junie 1915)
Wagter, die nag is donker,
donker en o, so bang:
vijande buite, wat raas en woed,
vriende gekeerd teen hul eie bloed,
en oor die burgers ‘n doodse slaap–
wagter, die nag was bang.
Trouw was jouw wag op die voorste wal,
helder en luid jouw basuingeskal,
maar oor die burgers ‘n doodse slaap–
wagter, hoe lang, hoe lang?

Wagter, siedaar, die skadewee
versmelt als, ‘n ligte skim
Hoor ‘n geruis in die beendre! die dood
voel nuwe lewe ontkiem in haar skoot.
Strijders, ontwaakte, die swaard ontbloot!
Wagter, ‘n goue môreson
verrijs aan die oosterkim.
—H A FAGAN

Die Visser

(Uit die Duits van Goethe)

Die water ruis, die water rol:
‘n visser sonder smart
sit daar te hengel vredevol,
ja koel tot in sijn hart.
En wijl hij loer en wijl hij sit,
deel sig die vloed in twee:
‘n vogtig meerwijf, haelwit,
stijg uit die siedende see.

Sij sing tot hom, sij spreek tot hom;
“Wat lok jij uit mijn skoot
“met mensekuns en menselis
“mijn kinders tot die dood?
“Wis jij hoe rijk die vissies is
“hier onder in die see,
“dan sou jij afdaal en gewis
“ook vind die ware vree.

“Moet nie die son en maan hul rig
“vir laafnis tot die vloed?
“Toon golwe-aad’mend hul gesig
“nie tweemaal skoner gloed?
“Ag jij die diepe hemel lig,
“die vog-beglansde blouw?
“Lok nie jouw eie aangesig
“jou in die eeuw’ge douw?”

Die water ruis, die water rol;
benat sijn naakte voet;
sijn hart word van verlange vol
als hij ‘n minnegroet.
Sij spreek tot hom, sij sing tot hom:
weerstaan kon hij nie meer;
half trek sij hom, half sink hij in,
en niemand sien hom weer.
J J S

Aan Mijn Vaderland

Trouwe liefde al mijn dae,
sweer ek jou met hand en hart!
Al jouw vreug is mijn behae,
en jouw leed mijn diepste smart!

Want mijn alles, selfs mijn lewe,
dank ek jou, mijn vaderland:
dis van jou mij vrij gegewe,
uitgereik met milde hand.

Daarom sing ek jou mijn sange
en mijn lied’re vir altijd;
daarom is ook mijn verlange
en mijn strewe jou gewijd.

Maar ons is nie net verenig
als jij in die sonskijn baai:
ek wil ook jouw smarte lenig,
als die stormwind anstig waai.

En nie net met woordeklanke
is ek tot jouw diens bereid:
met mijn daad is jij te danke
in jouw nood en angs en strijd.

Ek sal pal staan, tot ek sterwe
teen tiranne, wat jou druk:
tronk, verbanning wil ek erwe,
eer ek voor hul gruwels buk.

Is die nagte soms ook duister,
eind’lik daag dit in die oos,
en die dag vol glans en luister
bring die matte strijder troos.

Trouwe liefde al mijn dae.
sweer ek jou met hand en hart!
Al jouw vreug is mijn behae,
en jouw leed mijn diepste smart!
W.K. van Elssen


WINTER
Die eikebome
staan bleek en kaal,
en die popliere
als as so vaal,
Oor tuin en velde
kom elke nag
‘n kille laken
van spierwit prag.
Die newels drijwe
die vleie oor
en keer die sonskijn
aan al kant voor.
Die awendwindjie
speel langs die hang,
druk ijsig soene
op elke wang.

Dis oral aaklige!
Natuur is dood;
en ook mijn harte
word swaar als lood.

Maar nee, mijn liefste!
ek kan nie treur:
jouw liefde lewe
om op te beur.

Jouw oë melde
in minnegloed
waar wintersweeë
vergeefs teen woed.

Dit wil mijn siele
verwarm, verblij,
en vir die lente
reeds voorberei.

W K van Elssen

THE FISHERMAN.

THE waters rush’d, the waters rose,

A fisherman sat by,
While on his line in calm repose

He cast his patient eye.
And as he sat, and hearken’d there,

The flood was cleft in twain,
And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair

Sprang from the troubled main.

She sang to him, and spake the while:

“Why lurest thou my brood,
With human wit and human guile

From out their native flood?
Oh, couldst thou know how gladly dart

The fish across the sea,
Thou wouldst descend, e’en as thou art,

And truly happy be!

“Do not the sun and moon with grace

Their forms in ocean lave?
Shines not with twofold charms their face,

When rising from the wave?
The deep, deep heavens, then lure thee not,–

The moist yet radiant blue,–
Not thine own form,–to tempt thy lot

‘Midst this eternal dew?”

The waters rush’d, the waters rose,

Wetting his naked feet;
As if his true love’s words were those,

His heart with longing beat.
She sang to him, to him spake she,

His doom was fix’d, I ween;
Half drew she him, and half sank he,

And ne’er again was seen.

Goethe: 1779

An Afrikaans love song…

Luister na “Dink jy darem nog aan my”

Sias Reyneke was member of “Groep Twee” – (Group Two)

groeptwee

Joy: Paradise Road

joy

Joy

Master Jack

It’s a strange, strange world we live in, Master Jack.
You taught me all I know and I never look back.
It’s a very strange world and I thank you, Master Jack.

You took a coloured ribbon from out of the sky,
and taught me how to use it as the years went by.
To tie up all your problems and make them believe.
And then to sell them to the people in the street.

It’s a strange, strange world we live in, Master Jack.
You taught me all I know and I never look back.
It’s a very strange world and I thank you, Master Jack.

I saw right thru the way you started teaching me now.
So someday soon you could get to use me somehow.
I thank you very much you know you’ve been very kind.
But, I’d better move along before you change my mind

It’s a strange, strange world we live in, Master Jack
No hard feelings if I never come back
It’s a very strange world and I thank you, Master Jack

You taught me all the things the way you’d like ’em to be.
But I’d like to see if other people agree.
It’s all very interesting the way you describe
But I’d like to see the world thru my own eyes.

It’s a strange, strange world we live in, Master Jack.
No hard feelings if I never come back
You’re a very strange man and I thank you, Master Jack.
You’re a very strange man and I thank you, Master Jack.
You’re a very strange man, aren’t you, Master Jack?

Four Jacks and a Jill with “Master Jack”

master-jack

http://www.mnet.co.za/Mnet/Shows/carteblanche/story.asp?Id=2876

Rabbit…South Africa’s rock group from the 70’s with Duncan Faure, Trevor Rabin, Dave Matthews…read the next article about Trevor! Read   this article about  Trevor Rabin… now in Hollywood…writing the score for Hollywood movies…-follow the link to Mnet.
He wrote the score for Hollywood movies like Enemy of the State, Armageddon and National Treasure and won more awards than he can count, including several Grammies.
It started off with classical piano lessons as a boy. ? He then embarked on a lifelong love affair with the guitar. The name is Trevor Rabin, South Africa’s celebrated guitarist, singer, songwriter and composer.

You might remember him from Rabbit or Yes, but Trevor Rabin has left the rock stage for the lights of Hollywood. He has written the score for 25 movies.

Here at his Los Angeles home studio, he creates the stuff Hollywood dreams are made of.

A stone’s throw from the houses of the producers and actors he composes for, Trevor is crafting away at the music of yet another feature film – Glory Road, to be released soon

If you would watch or listen to a movie without the music, you would be amazed as to what a difference the score makes. And that is where Trevor has found a new profession – playing with our emotions. Continue reading on the link in the start of this article…and now you can listen to..Charlie!
rabbit1


Rabbit with…Charlie

rabbit

Rabbit

Mango Groove: Special Star

mango-groove

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Sleep and His Half Brother Death
John William Waterhouse
http://www.illusionsgallery.com/sleep.html

Image: dreams.co.uk
 How do you feel about sleep? Sometimes I can go a whole night without sleep, but I will surely feel knackered two days later! I love being in bed at night when the rain is tapping on the roof. Weekends I like to lie in…and then get a nice breakfast in bed! …now to the music!  I’ve these wonderful music, two tracks from a chess friend and he also sent me the third track by Hennie Bekker and suddenly! I found myself busy with an entry on sleep!! I even found you an interesting link about the stages of sleep and one about sleep deprivation…that’s for me, actually…lol! It was truly not my intention to blog about sleep when I uploaded these snippets of music, but at the end, after  searching for some images, I came across these interesting info and sites and thought to share it with you as it was interesting to me.  I  blog about stuff which I enjoy/find interesting…apart from chess…my blog is sort of a “gathering space” for info I want to refer back to, but also in the hope that other people will find it useful too or will enjoy it at least. In the same process, I also found music for children with Aspergers! I’ve worked with children with Aspergers syndrome, Down Syndrome and also Autistic children and they are all a pleasure to work with!

I’ve come across music for  ASD– the link will open in a new window – which you will find in this post. You can read more  about ASD on the link and there’s another link in this post for you to follow up too, if you are more interested in Autistic children.
Seven hours sleep a night helps reduce heart problems. Read the article…the link will open in a new window.

Image…see more fantastic images here..http://photo.net/photodb/member-photos?user_id=941594

Firstly, enjoy “Sea of Dreams”…this track is about 5 min, but you get to listen to only a taster of it, as well as the other tracks. Tranquil Realms is about 11 min but the taster only about 2 min. For Afrikaans speaking people, I wonder if you can remember the Afrikaans poem about sleep! Please find it at the bottom of my post, a wonderful poem by DF Malherbe! In this poem he asks God to shut his eyes one day like the little girl’s when she falls asleep…
On my blog on this link you can read about dreams…the link will open in a new window.

Sea of Dreams..by Angelle

Sleepy Time…by Angelle

Hennie Bekker…Tranquil Realms

Read on this link about sleep cycles. The link will open in a new window. Read on this pdf-link on wiki about dreaming.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikibooks/en/e/ef/Lucid_Dreaming.pdf

The Effects of Sleep Deprivation on Brain and Behavior
Sarah Ledoux
Sleep deprivation is a commonplace occurrence in modern culture. Every day there seems to be twice as much work and half as much time to complete it in. This results in either extended periods of wakefulness or a decrease in sleep over an extended period of time. While some people may like to believe that they can train their bodies to not require as much sleep as they once did this belief is false . Sleep is needed to regenerate certain parts of the body, especially the brain, so that it may continue to function optimally. After periods of extended wakefulness or reduced sleep neurons may begin to malfunction, visibly effecting a person’s behavior. Some organs, such as muscles, are able to regenerate even when a person is not sleeping so long as they are resting. This could involve lying awake but relaxed within a quite environment. Even though cognitive functions might not seem necessary in this scenario the brain, especially the cerebral cortex, is not able to rest but rather remains semi-alert in a state of “quiet readiness” . Certain stages of sleep are needed for the regeneration of neurons within the cerebral cortex while other stages of sleep seem to be used for forming new memories and generating new synaptic connections. The effects of sleep deprivation on behavior have been tested with relation to the presence of activity in different sections of the cerebral cortex.
The temporal lobe of the cerebral cortex is associated with the processing of language. During verbal learning tests on subjects who are fully rested functional magnetic resonance imaging scans show that this area of the brain is very active. However, in sleep deprived subjects there is no activity within this region. The effects of this inactivity can be observed by the slurred speech in subjects who have gone for prolonged periods with no sleep .
Please click HERE more about sleep deprivation and brain behaviour…the link will open in a new window.

The music in ‘Sleep’ has been designed to be physically relaxing – the program features no distracting surprises and feels like slow, steady breathing, to help transport the listener away from the stresses of the day towards restful sleep.

This CD, with music composed by Hennie Bekker, incorporates scientific principles of sonic response, and is designed to nudge your mind toward deep and refreshing sleep.

On this link you can listen to more snippets of his music. The link will open in a new window.

Hennie Bekker

African Roots
Bekker was raised in Mufulira, a Zambian copper mining town 10 miles south of the Congo border. In those early years, he was captivated by the symphonic sounds of the African wilderness, the haunting harmonies of tribal chanting and the rhythmic dialogue of drummers communicating between camps at sundown. He is a self-taught pianist who had his professional debut at age 15, spending the next decade performing with various bands throughout Zambia, Zaire, Zimbabwe and Kenya. His success as a fusion-jazz musician and band leader elevated him to become the musical director for one of South Africa’s largest record companies. Here, he added scores of film, television, radio and commercial music to his list of career accomplishments.
Read more about Hennie
Bekker here, the link will open in a new window. If you click on “home”, you will find youtube-videos of him to watch.


On the “music” link you will find more albums, even some Africa-music and snippets to listen to.

Asperger’s Syndrome is a condition that was initially described by Dr. Hans Asperger’s 1944 doctoral thesis. It was not until 37 years later, in 1981, however, that Dr. Lorna Wing used the term “Asperger’s Syndrome” in a paper that helped to introduce this condition to the English-speaking world.

As described by Dr. Wing, the primary clinical features of Asperger’s Syndrome include:
naïve, inappropriate, one-sided social interactions
limited ability to establish relationships
poor non-verbal communication
a lack of emotional empathy
pedantic, repetitive speech
intense absorption in certain subjects
clumsy, un-coordinated movements

odd postures

Currently, the prevailing view is that Asperger’s Syndrome is a Pervasive Developmental Disorder which falls at the high end of the Autism Spectrum continuum.

BEHAVIORAL DEFINITION

The autism spectrum extends from “classic autism” — which lies at the lower end of the spectrum– through ASPERGER’S SYNDROME, which is characterized as being at the mildest and highest functioning end of the spectrum –or Pervasive Developmental Disorder–Continuum

The major source of stress in life for the person with Asperger’s Syndrome is social contact, and increased stress generally leads to anxiety disorders and depression Attwood, T. Asperger’s Syndrome: A Guide for Parents and Professionals, 1998, p. 148.
AS represents a neurologically-based disorder of development

AS reflects deviations or abnormalities in four aspects of development:

(1) Social relatedness and social skills
(2) The use of language for purposes of communication
(3) Certain behavioral and stylistic characteristics such as repetitive or persevering features
(4) Limited, but intense, range of interests

These dysfunctional features can range from mild to severe

“The Epidemiology of Asperger Syndrome: A Total Population Study” by Ehlers and Gillberg (retrieve citation) 2001), it is estimated that the prevalence of Asperger is 2.6 per 1,000 individuals. With the population of the U.S. currently estimated at 275 million (July 2000), this would mean an estimated 715,000 people are affected by Asperger’s syndrome in the U.S. alone”
Stewart, K. (2002). Helping a Child with Nonverbal Learning Disorder or Asperger’s Syndrome, p. 148

AS is characterized by:

high cognitive abilities — or, at least, “normal” IQ level
extending into the very superior range of cognitive ability
normal language function when compared to other autistic disorders
difficulties with pragmatic, or social language
a better prognosis than other Autism spectrum disorders

Please read on THIS LINK more…the link will open in a new window. Click on “products” and it will take you to the music page.


Image: babyzone.com

DF Malherbe (1881-1969)


Slaap


Wat is die slaap ‘n wondersoete ding!
Sag op haar bloue oë daal die vaak
soos maneskyn diep waterkuile raak
om daar te droom in silwer skemering.

Vir laas beef oor haar lippe ‘n fluistering:
“Nag, Pappie.” Ek merk hoe langsaam hy genaak,
wat drome soet tot werklikhede maak:
in vaderarms rus my lieweling.
Sluit so my oë, God, wanneer vir my
u Engel wenk ter laaste, lange rus
en ek van wilde woeling hier moet skei;
dat my dan stille drome huis toe sus
en sterke Hand deur duisternisse lei.
Sluit so my oë, God, as ek gaan rus.

To Sleep
by John Keats.

O soft embalmer of the still midnight!
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes.
Or wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities;
Then save me, or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

Sea of Dreams…Kelly King …I’ve found this book on google-books whilst searching for images and thought it might be on my list to read when I have more time…I’ve read a couple of books about wars…and for some reason I like to read about it…all part of history.

Sea of dreams by Martin Sramek

Dreams
by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

My Piano….by… artistnina.com

 

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These words say…”Afrikaans…I love you!”

Please click on this link to vote for Afrikaans. The link will open in a new window. My English readers — that want to help and preserve our beautiful language, HERE is the direct link…slide down a bit…there are 3 boxes…first one your name…second your email…and you don’t have to write in the 3rd box..unless you really want to! and…all you can say is…”JA” or “yes”… Please make sure the radio button is also ticked with “Ja, de Nederlandse Taalunie moet het Afrikaans ondersteunen.”  and also, click on “verzend”...(submit)..That means that we want Netherland to support us! Afrikaans and the Dutch language are family, so we would love them to support us!! and would love to have your vote too!! This must be done before 20th October!! Please make sure you follow these instructions if you agree with me! otherwise, there’s no vote! Thank you!!

Het Afrikaans is een belangrijke taal, die door bijna tien miljoen inwoners van Zuid-Afrika en Namibië gesproken en verstaan wordt. Het is wel een zelfstandige taal, maar je hoeft slechts één zinnetje te horen om te beseffen hoe verwant het is met het Nederlands. Wetenschappelijk onderzoek heeft uitgewezen dat Afrikaans voor Nederlanders veel begrijpelijker is dan andere verwante talen, bijvoorbeeld Fries. Deze tamelijk goede wederzijdse verstaanbaarheid is een goede basis voor meer contact.
De Afrikaanssprekenden zullen ondersteuning via de Nederlandse Taalunie zeker op prijs stellen, want sinds de val van het apartheidsregime is de aantrekkingskracht van het Afrikaans als contacttaal (of tweede taal) snel afgenomen.
Van ten minste 6,5 miljoen mensen is het Afrikaans de moedertaal. Voor hen kan de Taalunie wat betekenen, denk aan uitwisseling van materialen voor onderwijs, opleidingen en radio- en televisieprogramma’s.
Maar ook wíj hebben erbij te winnen. Niet dat de Zuid-Afrikanen ooit Nederlands zullen gaan spreken. Wel dat kennis van een sterk verwante taal en voortdurend contact met zijn sprekers onze houding ten opzichte van onze eigen taal wat minder parochiaal zullen maken. Ja, ook mensen die net even anders spreken en schrijven, zijn de moeite waard.

Some reactions from visitors on this site where you can vote:

Ik vind dat het erg kortzichtig zou zijn, zo niet ezelachtig, om het Afrikaans NÍET te steunen! Ten eerste heeft het Afrikaans dezelfde wortels als het huidige Nederlands. Taalkundig gesproken is het is familie. Ten tweede is de literatuur in het Afrikaans – door witte, bruine én zwarte schrijvers en dichters vóór, tijdens, en nu ná de apartheid – net zo interessant en net zo belangrijk voor onze kennis van het menselijke bestaan als de literatuur in welke taal ook. Ten derde zou het, weer taalkundige gesproken, een tragedie zijn mocht het Afrikaans door politieke redenen het onderspit moeten delven. (Zoals een Amerikaanse taalkundige ooit heeft opmerkt is het verdwijnen van een taal tegelijkertijd het verdwenen van een cultuur, iets te vergelijken met het bombarderen van het Rijksmuseum of Le Louvre). Ten vierde zijn ÁLLE talen – Engels, Russisch, Frans, Duits, Nederlands, Arabisch, Ivrit en noem maar op – ooit de “taal van de Onderdrukker” geweest.” Waarom moet allen het Afrikaans gestraft worden door steun te onthouden? Ten vijfde wordt het Afrikaans nu door een passieve zo niet een actieve cultuuroorlog bedreigd. (Wat staat er te gebeuren met het Nasionale Afrikaanse Letterkundige Museum?) Moeten de jonge Afrikaans-sprekende mensen die nu na de apartheid opgroeien en daar niets mee te maken hebben gehad boeten voor wat sommige van hun ouders en grootouders gedaan mochten hebben? (De Verenigde Staten van Amerika hebben na de Tweede Wereld Oorlog noch de Duitsers noch de Japanners het gebruik van en het verder cultiveren van hun moedertaal noch ontzegd noch bemoeilijkt. Integendeel.)

Dit kan net onkundiges wees wat Afrikaans met apartheid assosieer; Afrikaans is die tale van vele verskillende kulturele groepe in Suid Afrika. Alle ondersteuning vir ons pragtige taal word benodig en verwelkom. Viva Afrikaans!!! (in English…Afrikaans is the language of different culture groups in SA! Viva Afrikaans!!!)

Arnold
07.10.2008 09:28
Ik bewonder de vechtlust van de afrikaners voor hun taal. Ik schaam me diep voor de houding van de nederlanders, het lijken wel slappe frikandellen. In Zuidafrika is engels een oprukkende officiele taal ten koste van het afrikaans. Daar wordt tegen gevochten. In Nederland hoeft dit niet persé, maar vragen ze om verengelst te worden en juichen ze de verengelsing toe. Ieder woord wordt klakkeloos uit het engels overgenomen. Niemand heeft het meer over winkelen, relame of verkoop maar shopping commercial en sale. In de politie is de VVD en D66 het gevaarlijkst voor het behoud van de nederlandse taal, de CU en CDA willen wel knokken. De SP trouwens ook wel. Op het franstalige deel van St Maarten spreekt men frans, men zou nederlandstalige borden verwachten op het nederlandse deel, maar het is alleen engels en de regering doet er niets aan.

C E Hulstaert
05.10.2008 18:13
Het is mijn overtuiging dat de Nederlandse Taalunie het Afrikaans moet ondersteunen omdat het een taal is die in Zuid-Afrika en in Namibie onder druk staat en omdat die taal uit het Nederlands is ontstaan. Het feit dat sommigen van de apartheids-tegenstanders die taal racistisch noemen is een emotioneel argument dat ook kan worden ingebracht tegen het Engels. Engeland is de grootste koloniale mogend-heid die ooit heeft bestaan en het Engels is in alle kolonien als officiele taal ingevoerd. Wanneer men het Afrikaans terug dringt uit het openbare leven ten gunste van het Engels wordt niet alleen de Afrikaners onrecht aangedaan maar ook de kleurlingen en de San.

Tiong Koen
04.10.2008 19:14
Ja, zeer zeker. Om te beginnen is het ook óns erfgoed. Van ons, van álle Nederlandstaligen, dus ook van Chinese, Creoolse, Hindoestaanse, Marokkaanse en Turkse Nederlanders. We moeten het steunen uit welbegrepen eigenbelang. Verder is het een van de mooiste talen die ik ooit gehoord heb, met een boeiende literatuur en verbazingwekkend mooie poëzie. We moeten het dus ook steunen voor de anderen, want de wereld zou een stuk armer worden als er geen Afrikaans meer gesproken werd. Afrikaans moet tot Werelderfgoed verklaard worden.

Riaan Cruywagen
08.10.2008 21:05
Afrikaans is onlosmaaklik deel van die Nederlandse taalfamilie en het die steun van die Nederlandse Taalunie nodig. Totius het immers die verbintenis reeds in 1949 treffend soos volg saamgevat: “Dié sprokie is aan my vertel: Wanneer die druiwetros weer swel onder die donker wingerdblad, dat dan die fyne wyn ook roer in ver verborge keldervat. ‘n Fyn mistieke eenheidsband verbind Oranje, Nederland en Afrika, deur alles heen. Hoe ver die golwe ons ook al omspoel, die diepe hart sal altyd voel – ons is verborge-één.”

Mooi so, Afrikaans BO!!

Afrikaans school wins bid not to change language policy

March 27 2009 , 12:53:00

The Supreme Court of Appeal this morning effected that a governing body of a school has the exclusive power to determine the language policy of an existing school. It overruled a decision by the Pretoria High Court. The Mpumalanga Education Department had no accommodation in the Ermelo area for learners to be taught in English.

The head of department withdrew the function of the governing body of the Ermelo High School to determine the language policy of the school and appointed an interim committee to change the policy from an Afrikaans medium to a parallel medium school. But today the Supreme Court of Appeal found that the head of department was not authorised to do so in terms of the Schools Act and violated the principles of the Promotion of Administrative Justice Act.

The Federation of School Governing Bodies (Fedsas) has welcomed the judgment by the court in favour of the High School Ermelo and its school governing body that the school should become an Afrikaans single medium school.

Fedsas National Operational officer, Jaco Deacon, says this judgment is significant for education in South Africa and specifically the role of Afrikaans. He says the powers of school governing bodies are reinstated and the government can therefore not interfere in the decisions of school governing bodies unless there are special circumstances. A school governing body can therefore determine which language can be taught at a public school.
Source SABCNews

SABCnews

Image : SABCNews

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Boerneef

Die berggans het ’n veer laat val
van die hoogste krans by Woeperdal
my hart staan tuit al meer en meer
ek stuur vir jou die berggansveer
mits dese wil ek vir jou sê
hoe diep my liefde vir jou lê

Images:noila.latsi.de

The translation in Dutch…on the link you will find more Afrikaans poems translated into Dutch.
De berggans heeft een veer laten vallen
Van de hoogste rots bij Wuppertal
Mijn hartje slaat al meer en meet
Ik stuur naar jou die berggansveer
Hierbij verklaar ik je gewis
hoe diep mijn liefde voor je is.

Boerneef (1897 – 1967)

Klik HIER vir meer Nederlandse gedigte – Afrikaans vertaal in Nederlands.
Wupperthal

Wupperthal, South Africa

Boerneef: Die berggans het ‘n veer laat val

Bateleur – photo: Treknature- copyright: Andrea Piazza

25/3/2012 – ‘Dok’ het in die kommentaarboksie vir ons ‘n boodskap gelos oor die Bateleur/Berghaan. Ek dink Boerneef het eintlik bedoel dat dit ‘n berggans is en nie berghaan/bateleur nie. Ek plaas ook die boek hier – van Amazon – met die korrekte titel.

berggans_1

C.M. van den Heever (1902-1957)

Die vertrekkende wildeganse

Tot aan die ruigte-gladde waterkant
verglans die son se skuinse middagvuur,
om trillend oor die watervlak
in hierdie teer vertwyfelingsuur
’n oogwenk nog te duur –
’n oogwenk tot ’n vlerkgeklapper ruis,
die water, ru verras, sy rimpels plooi,
en swart figure oor die wye spieël
onrustige skaduwees gooi.
Dan uit die donker vleie styg
met hees geskreeu die pikswart ry,
en oor die rustig-diepe kuile reis
die ganse met hul heimweeroep verby,
verby na verre lugte waar die vuur
van weggekwynde sonlig
’n oogwenk bang nog duur …
al kleiner word die swart gedaantes,
en verder sterf die heimweeroep
die verre kimme oor,
en langs die wye land die hemele in
raak stil die ry met hul geskreeu verloor.

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Storietyd-Storytime

Images:Storiewerf

As jy hier is vir die stories – die PDF dokumente is verder af in hierdie inskrywing. Hierdie bloginskrywing is van ‘n hele paar jaar gelede – neem dit in ag.

To English readers, unfortunately, this post is only in Afrikaans, as it is about children’s stories in Afrikaans and all sorts of ramblings about Afrikaans authors and school stuff, so there’s no point I try to translate anything for you, but there’s tons of other stuff on this site to go through and I hope you enjoy what you find here. You may want to click on the second and third link in this post as it is in English and also about children’s stories…all links will open in a new window. There’s also a link for you to Dalene Matthee’s books/films…enjoy! I have also uploaded PDF’s (to the middle of this post) with Afrikaans poems and stories. There is even one PDF with a story about the SAN.

On this next link you can read about childrens’ books…English and Afrikaans. Some really great books to have.
https://chessaleeinlondon.wordpress.com/2008/07/07/your-closest-friend/
This story is an Afrikaans story…Bollie Konyn

Kliek HIER vir Storiewerf. Kliek op hierdie link waar jy Jakkals-en-Wolf Stories kan kry en ook audio-files sal kry met stories en op hierdie link gaan jy lekker Afrikaanse verhale kry. Alle links in die pos maak in ‘n nuwe venster oop! Hierdie link is ‘n oulike webbladsy oor Skrywers en Illustreerders..
This link has info on Dalene Matthee’s books and films. Books like Circles in the Forest, The Mulberry Forest, Fiela’s Child, etc. and on this link you can read about Alida Bothma, a book illustrator and artist.  These links will open in a new window.

Hierdie possie lê eintlik al hier op “draft” vir ‘n paar maande en ek het besluit ek wil hom nou van my af kry. Ek geniet hierdie Storiewerf website baie en ek dink dis die moeite werd om daar te gaan inloer as jy opsoek is na goeie kinderboeke en allerhande ander stories-gedigte-verwante boeke. Daar is natuurlik ook ‘n link vir die grootmense…Die boek waarvan jy die voorblad hier sien – “Krisis by Maroela” – is een van die Afrikaanse boeke wat talle kinders in die laerskool baie geniet het en seker nog steeds geniet. Die boek is eintlik ‘n opvolg op die boek: “Die besetting van Laerskool Maroela“…kinders vanaf ouderdom  9 geniet hierdie boeke baie, veral as hulle so bietjie hou van avontuur/spanning/pret. In die eerste boek begin die verhaal met ‘n lot boewe wat die skool “kaap”. Natuurlik is al die kinders in die skool morsdoodbang vir hierdie boewe op die eerste dag van ‘n nuwe skooljaar. Ongelukkig het ek nie daardie boek hier en kon ek nie hom inskandeer nie, maar hierdie tweede boek het saamgekom, saam met ‘n paar ander omdat my kinders geredeneer het dat hulle darem so bietjie Afrikaans wou hê om te lees hier in die land van die “vyand”! Hulle het albei die boek geniet. Die gedig.. “Die Pianis” het ek op Storiewerf gevind en ek het gedink die gedig van die 17-jarige meisie was nogal oulik. Volg hierdie skakels hierbo en jy sal nie spyt wees nie.

Dan gaan julle dit dalk “snaaks” vind dat ek hier werkskaarte blog!

Ek het al ‘n paar besoekers gehad wat in ‘n soek-terme ingesit het wat vir my ‘n aanduiding was dat daar dalk ‘n behoefte was na hierdie tipe werkskaarte. Ek het in SA o.a. vir Gr4-Gr6 Afrikaans onderrig – wat ek natuurlik verskriklik geniet het (saam met die talle ander vakke) Ek het o.a. begin om oulike gedigte/stories op my rekenaar uit te tik en om my eie begripsvrae en Taalkunde-vrae daarby te sit. Dit is ‘n probleem met boeke wat jy koop in die handel. Daar is goeie boeke, meeste van die tyd, maar ek het altyd geglo dat ek my werk beplan rondom die kinders wat voor my in die klas gesit het. Jy kan nie ‘n boek koop en net so gebruik en dink dis voldoende vir daardie spesifieke kinders, jy as Onderwyser moet aanpas vir die spesifieke kinders voor jou in die klas. Dit wat in die boek is, is juis daar om net ‘n gids te wees en jou net te help. Wel, dis hoe ek dit sien, baie ander mag dalk met my verskil. Dit hang maar van persoon tot persoon af. Met klasse wat gemeng is volgens vermoëns, met jy juis al verskillende werkskaarte/opdragte hê vir die verskillende groepe- in kort- differensiasie! Enige persoon wat dit nodig vind om hierdie pdf-dokumente af te laai en te gebruik, dis juis daar om dit te doen!

Ek het nog heelwat hier, veral vir Gr3-5, (omdat ek daarmee begin het en mag enkeles hê vir Gr6. Ek wil myself nou glad nie hier ooreis, maar doen dit met die grootste liefde vir die wat hier lees en dit vra!

Enige persoon kan die vragies afknip en verander volgens sy behoefte. Ek het die Word-dokumente omgeskakel in pdf, slegs omdat dit netjieser lyk. Die storie van die Reëndruppels het ek uit ‘n Daan Retief-boekie gekry met daardie titel. ‘n Dierbare storie wat ek altyd met Gr3 gedoen het sodra ons by die waterkringloop gekom het – in Wetenskap. Die kinders het die storietjie baie geniet. Hierdie pdf’s wissel vir kinders Gr3-Gr4. Selfs vir kinders in Gr 5/6/7 wat op ‘n laer vlak is. Jy sal weet watter tipe kinders jy in jou klas het en kan self oordeel hoe jy dit sal gebruik. Ek mis die Afrikaans klas-gee ontsettend vir die stories/gedigte skryf wat die kinders doen. Daar het altyd die oulikste stories/gediggies van hulle af gekom. Ek kan onthou met Gr3’s (voor ons hierheen gekom het…selfs voor die eerste keer!) skryf ons die storie van Rooikappie vanuit ‘n ander oogpunt gesien. Een dogtertjie besluit toe Ouma (wat deur die wolf in die kas toegesluit was) het ‘n selfoon by haar gehad en Ouma het sommer gou-gou haarself uit die penarie gered! Dit was nogal baie oulik uitgedink. En met advertensies…die Pienkies!! Kondensmelksakkies wat jy in pakkies van 10 te koop kry by Pick-a-pay…daardie maatskappy skuld my! My eie pienkie-advertensie was elke jaar die voorbeeld wat ek voorgehou het en die dag daarna, was omtrent die helfte van die klas by die skool met pienkies in hul kosblikke!

De Jager-HAUM ISBN: 07986 2974 6 –Die Krisis by Maroela…Johan Kock

“Die plofbare “pakkie” in die onskuldige omhulsel van ‘n klankversterker sou nie verdag lyk naby die vername eregas nie. Dat die minister die dag nou juis by Laerskool Maroela ‘n toespraak moes lewer, het die Organisasie gepas. Boonop was die briljante plan, om die ervare misdadiger, Mike, se ontsnapping te reël sodat hy die Organisasie se opdrag by die skoolkermis kon uitvoer, die waagstuk werd. Mike het die skool geken… En Mike wou wraak neem. Alles sou vlot verloop het, as dit nie vir die pille was nie… en die waagmoed van Deon Schoeman.”

Elsabe Steenberg…Stories vir Afrika

Die Pianis

Met sensitiewe
vlinder-vingers
wip jou hande
oor swart en wit
en wit en swart
raak-raak hier,
rus-rus daar
‘n lange, ‘n korte
‘n agtste
en die molle en kruise
en linkerhandtekens,
kom lê hier warm op my hart.
Met solo’s en duete
het jy jouself tot in my siel begelei
en jy trap nou die pedale van my emosies
met jou sagte-sagte voete.
Met donderslae en diep akoorde
speel jy jouself al dieper in my wese in,
tot jy weer
tikkel, tokkel
flidder, fladder,
iewers ver agter die Baby Grand,
so ver,
so onbereikbaar ver,
dat jy netsowel ‘n opname kon gewees het.
Oor swart en wit
en wit en swart
en grys het nie ‘n plek nie,
en c’s en e’s
en vir jou bestaan ek nie verder as g nie.
maar vir my is jy alles,
want jy het jouself
met geoefende vingers
onlosmaakbaar déél van my gemaak,
jouself in my in getoonleer.

Maryke Wennick

DIE PADDA

Padda, jou grootoog ding,

Kan jy wip of kan jy spring?

O, jy kan wip,

Wip-wip tot op die klip.

Ek kan tog sing

jou skurwe ding:

Ka-tjie-rie, Ka-tjie-rie

My ouma het ‘n kie-rie,

‘n kier-rie.

Vir wat spring jy nou weg?

Jou maniere is maar sleg.

Ek praat dan nog met jou,

Ek wil net vra:

Hoeveel vratte het jou vrou?

Tot siens jou skurwe ding,

wat met jou paddaboudjies

in ons visdam spring!

All of the PDF’s will open in a new window. Al die volgende PDF’s maak in ‘n nuwe venster oop. Sien verder in die inskrywing nog PDF’s wat bygewerk is. [opgedateer Augustus 2011 – ek wou nie die werkskaarte ‘delete’ nie en het dit goedgevind om dit ook hier te plaas en hoop iemand sal dit kan gebruik!]
Kliek op die pdf-dokument vir ‘n storie oor ‘n bokkie met begripsleesvragies. bokkie-begripslees-en-taal  Die Hoogmoedige muskiet – storie met ‘n les..Slim vang sy baas!. die-hoogmoedige-muskiet  Spookstories…gediggie met vragies! spookstories-gedig-leesbegrip    Die Reëndruppels…van Daan Retief… die-reendruppels  Die verwaande Walvis…gedig die-verwaande-walvis-gedig     Gedig…Skinderbek..met vragies…uit: 101 Diereverhale gedig-skinderbek
Afrikaans leeskaart voels
Begripslees en vrae BOKKIE en taal lettergrepe
Begripsvrae Luilekkerhappie
Leeskaart Luilekkerhappie
Helen Keller
Sampie 2
Karoo gediggie
Reën gedig
Die verwaande walvis gedig met vrae
Storie van die sterre
Storie wat die San vertel het van Heisib en die Volstruis
Vrugte gedig
Jenny Seed Die 59 Katte Hierdie is slegs ‘n gedeelte van die storie.
Koue lande Leeskaart
Wereldreis gedig met vragies
padda gedig hoogmoed
Leeskaart Die eensame teepot
Die direkte rede-pdf’s is slegs strokiesprente waarvan die teks verwyder is en leerders kan self hul eie teks invul!
DIREKTE Rede4
Direkte Rede 3
Direkte Rede 2
Direkte Rede 1
fiets gedig
Leesbegrip Liedjie

Miempie

Hier is Louise Prinsloo met ‘n paar kinders – sekerlik besig met interessante skrywerk!

Louise her haar eie website: louiseprinsloo.co.za

 

Kinders sonder fantasie ontspoor later
Elfra Erasmus
SY het ‘n groot droom, sê die bekroonde kinder- en jeugboekskrywer Elsabe Steenberg. ‘n Droom oor busse vol boeke wat op al die dorpe in die land aandoen en waar kinders (en grootmense), soos oorsee, boeke op straat kan koop. Elsabe se jongste publikasie, die kleuterboek Kariena Karyn, oor ‘n meisietjie wat vir die donker bang is, het pas by J.L. van Schaik-uitgewers verskyn. In die verhaal gesels Kariena met die goudvis, wat ”borrel-orrel-gorrel”, en die botterblom, wat sy stingel swaai en kraai van die lag, oor hoekom sy snags so skreeu. Die boek, wat in Engels heet Katie Colly Wobbles, is fraai geïllustreer deur Alida Bothma. Elsabe meen daar het ‘n verandering (en gelukkig ‘n verbetering) plaasgevind in die kinderboektemas oor die jare. Vroeër is ”verskriklik afgeskryf op kinders”. Die boeke het gehandel oor sake waarin grootmense geïnteresseer was. Deesdae is kinderboeke egter meer ”kindgerig”. Maar lees kinders nog? ‘n Mens bekommer jou daaroor sê sy, maar sê sy hoor bemoedigende verhale oor kinders wat nie meer as ses boeke by die biblioteek mag uitneem nie en vir wie dit ‘n allemintige probleem is dat hulle eers twee dae later weer ses mag uitneem! Om die jong TV-geslag voor die vervlietende prentjies op die stel weg te kry, is daar net een oplossing: ouers moet kinders van kleins af lief maak vir boeke. Sy het vir haar kinders begin stories lees voordat hulle twee jaar oud was en vir haar een seun bly lees totdat hy elf was, bloot omdat hy daarvan gehou het. ” ‘n Kind betree ‘n boek soos hy die wêreld betree, dit word deel van sy ervaring van die lewe.” Die skool maak nie juis in hierdie verband ‘n positiewe bydrae nie. Onderwysers is so besig om die kinders te léér dat daar nie meer tyd gemaak word sodat hulle net kan sit en lees nie. Is daar in ons moderne samelewing plek vir sprokies, of moet dit, soos in sommige kleuterskole in Pretoria, verbied word omdat dit nie die ”werklikheid” is nie? Kinders het sprokies en fantasie besonder nodig, sê sy. In sprokies is altyd ‘n element van geweld, maar dit word ”deurgewerk”. ”Elke mens het geweld of woede in sy onderbewuste wat deurgewerk moet word. Kinders moet dit van kleins af leer.” Fantasie bevat gewoonlik ‘n dieper waarheid en is nodig om ‘n kind gebalanseer groot te maak. Kinders wat daarsonder grootword, ontspoor heeltemal. Hulle ontwikkel later persoonlikheidsversteurings omdat hulle reeds te veel werklikheid moes hanteer. ” ‘n Mens kan byna sê, wat bly oor as daar nie fantasie is nie. Sonder fantasie is die lewe so eendimensioneel.” Oor of stories ‘n les moet bevat, voel sy sterk. ”Ek gril daarvoor. Stories moet ‘n kind laat groei omdat dit oorspronklik anders is. Dit moet nooit ‘n versuikerde preek wees nie. Kinders is te fyn, hulle let dit dadelik op.” Dis juis hoekom sy vir kinders skryf. Omdat hulle eerliker is as volwassenes. Soos die bekende Nederlandse kinderboek-skrywer Guus Kuijer gesê het: jy kan nie kinders bluf met literêre foefies nie. ”Die terugvoer wat ek van kinders kry, is heerlik. Omdat hulle so eerlik is, sal hulle nie aan my skryf as hulle nie werklik die boek geniet het nie.” As kenner van kinderboeke is sy bekommerd oor die toekenning van pryse vir kinder- en jeugboeke in Suid-Afrika. ”Daar moet gewerk word aan die keurders.” Kyk ‘n mens na die boeke wat bekroon word, is dit duidelik die mense wat dit beoordeel, het nie kennis van kinders nie. Sy sonder egter die die laaste paar jaar se toekenning van die Scheepers-prys uit as meer in die kol. * Dr. Elsabe Steenberg is reeds verskeie kere bekroon, onder meer met die J.P. van der Walt-prys vir Klawervyf (1975), die Sanlam-prys vir Boom bomer boomste (1980), die Tafelberg-prys vir Eendoring met lang bene (1979), Goue fluit my storie is uit (1986) en die Zoeloe-vertaling van Masilo en die monster (1991) is bekroon met Maqhawe Mkhizi-HAUM-Daan Retief-prys vir kinderliteratuur.
Op skool is verskeie van haar boeke voorgeskryf, onder meer Rooi kanarie Hoepelbeen, Waar is Pappa se panfluit en Ken jy die weerligvoël.
http://152.111.1.251/argief/berigte/beeld/1992/09/3/2/2.html
Boekeblad
Elsabé was altyd ‘n wenner
Marina le Roux
MISKIEN is Elsabe Steenberg in haar ryk en vol lewe nie na waarde geskat nie. Benewens kreatiewe en produktiewe skryfster was sy immers ook nog vrou en moeder, vertaler, resensent, akademikus, geliefde dosent en gewilde spreker by leeskringe en skryfskole. Maar daar was moontlik nie genoeg literêre bekronings nie. Die J.P. Van der Walt Prys twee maal, vir Klawervyf en vir Eendoring met lang Bene, die welverdiende Sanlam Prys vir Boom bomer boomste, en in 1993 die erepenning van die Akademie, het sy besonder waardeer. Maar sy het ‘n pragmatiese siening oor skryfpryse behou: “Dis so ‘n gedwonge soort ding. Wie wen, berus soms op wie die pryse toeken”, het sy by geleentheid gesê. Elsabé Steenberg was egter altyd ‘n wenner: onder haar toegewyde en getroue lesers, waaronder kleuters, kinders, tieners en volwassenes, en ‘n wenner oor die “draakstasie” in haar lewe. Nou is sy bevry van die rolstoel waarin sy die afgelope 20 jaar ‘n “vasgerankte” was. Ten spyte van die uitmergelende aanslae van veelvuldige sklerose, het sy steeds onwrikbaar geglo in die terapeutiese vennootskap met die letterkunde. Sy kon selfs met humor skryf oor haar siekte, die “gog”, die bedreigende “draakstasie” in haar outobiografiese werk Twee hang bo die Pad, vier Loop op die Mat:”Met genoegsame genade sal ek nou nie toelaat om die kern van dit wat ek is, aan te tas nie. Eerder sal jy my sterker maak, ‘n verbete vegter, ‘n dankbare mens. Maar ónderkry? O nee, onderkry sal jy my nie”. Hierdie lewensbeskouing het Elsabé Steenberg ten grondslag gelê. Sy was een van die mees prolifieke Afrikaanse skryfsters, veral dan van kinder- en jeuglektuur. As tiener het sy alreeds kortverhale gepubliseer, en haar eerste boeke het in 1968 verskyn : Die Moerasloper en Dat ek mag sien, wat vir televisie verfilm is as Sien jy nou? Sedertdien het daar ‘n wye verskeidenheid boeke, kortverhale, eenbedrywe, resensies en vaklektuur uit haar pen verskyn, vir volwassenes sowel as vir kinders Sy het egter altyd verkies om vir kinders te skryf, “omdat hulle tegelykertyd wond-baarder en oper is as grootmense én beter gewapen deur die vermoë tot verbeelding”. Die “wondbaarheid” van kinders is dan ook die herhalende tema in Steenberg se oeuvre. Gebore op Vrede, staan sy nou in die gees op Horeb, die hoogste piek van die Rooiberge by haar geliefde Clarens, en sy sien die beloofde land, sy glo en begroet dit.

http://152.111.1.251/argief/berigte/dieburger/1996/05/22/15/2.html

In Engels…Tree more-Tree most
Update: August 2011 – Opdateer: Augustus 2011 – Ek hoop dat die volgende PDF-lêers ook bruikbaar gevind sal word. Maak seker oor die Woordeboekbladsynommers in die vragies, want dit sal verseker nie dieselfde as jou klas s’n wees nie.

Althea die stokroosfeetjie
Althea en die Stokroosfeetjie – storie met vragies
Die Diefstal
Die Diefstal – storie met vragies
Die Haan en die Mieliepit
Die Haan en die Mieliepit – storie met vragies

Die Ongeluk
Die Ongeluk – storie met vragies
Die pot met die drie pote
Die Pot met die drie pote – slegs die storie, geen vragies
Mini raak ‘n spogmotor
Mini raak ‘n spogmotor – storie met vragies
Tessa
Tessa – storie met vragies
Wollie en Wippie
Wollie en Wippie – storie met vragies

Klik op die afbeelding vir ‘n groter weergawe

Die Leeu en die Muis -‘n Tradisionele fabel

Eendag beland ‘n piepklein muisie in die poot van ‘n yslike groot leeu. “Ek het jou gevang, Meneer Muisie, jy is myne!” brul die yslike groot leeu.”Asseblief, Grote Leeu, Koning van die Diere, moet my nie seermaak nie. Laat my asseblief los. My kinders wag vir my en die son sak al laag. As jy my loslaat, sal ek vir jou ook eendag ‘n guns bewys”, pleit die muisie.”Jy weet”, brul die yslike, groot leeu, “ek dink nie jy sal enige nut vir my wees nie. Jy is glad te klein om vir my gunste te bewys. Maar loop maar, ek sal jou lewe spaar ter wille van jou kinders. Toe, loop nou, voor ek van plan verander.”Piepklein Muisie skarrel vinnig weg en verdwyn in die bosse.’n Paar dae later word Grote Leeu in ‘n strik gevang. Hy is vas en kan nie roer nie. Hy brul en brul, maar kan nie loskom nie. Skielik hoor hy ‘n “piep-piep” hier naby hom. Sowaar, dit is dieselfde muisie wat hy ‘n paar dae tevore gevang het.”Lê stil”, piep die muisie, “Ek sal gou-gou die toue deurknaag, dan sal jy los wees.””Ag, ou Muisie,” kla Grote Leeu moedeloos, die toue is so dik en jou tandjies is so klein. Hoe sal jy dit regkry?”Maar die muisie hou net aan met knaag en sowaar, kort voor lank is daar ‘n yslike gat waardeur Grote Leeu kan kruip.”Baie dankie, Kleine Muisie. Jy het vandag my lewe gered. Al is jy baie, baie klein, het jy my gered toe ek magteloos was. Ek is jammer dat ek gedink het dat jy te klein is om my te help. Ek sal vir jou en jou kindertjies ‘n groot geskenk gee.” Hulle was vir ewig vriende. Source: Connexions

Die Skilpad en die Haas

‘n Skilpad is ‘n dier wat baie stadig beweeg.Eendag sê die uitgeslape skilpad vir Haastige Hasie: “Ek wed jou ek sal jou wen as ons twee resies hardloop.” Die hasie kyk verbaas na skilpad en dink by homself: “Ek het seker nie reg gehoor nie. Glo hierdie trapsuutjies nou regtig hy sal my wen? Weet hy nie hoe vinnig ek kan hardloop nie? Hier is nie ‘n hond op hierdie plaaswerf wat my kan vang nie!””Nou goed”, sê Haas, “ons kan môre resies hardloop en dan kyk ons wie kom eerste by die wenstreep aan.”Die volgende oggend het al wat dier is bymekaar gekom om hierdie resies dop te hou.Skilpad en Haas staan gereed.”Op julle merke, gereed en weg is julle!” roep die olifant en hy blaas die fluitjie so hard dat dit deur die bos weergalm.Haastige Haas spring met ‘n vaart in die pad.’n Groot stofwolk agtervolg hom en hy verdwyn heeltemal daaragter.Skilpad stap maar voetjie vir voetjie aan.Hy is baie rustig en glimlag vir homself.Hasie dink toe dat hy genoeg tyd het om nou eers ‘n bietjie te rus en ‘n bietjie te eet.Hy gaan lê uitgestrek in die koelte van ‘n groot boom en begin knibbel aan die smaaklike, vars, groen grassies wat daar naby hom groei. Dit smaak heerlik, dink hy, en lê agteroor.Hy lê so lekker dat hy insluimer en vergeet van Ou Skilpad.Skilpad is bult-op en bult-af.Hy kyk nie regs nie en ook nie links nie.Hy hou net aan.Uiteindelik is hy twee tree van die wenstreep.Dis toe dat Hasie wakker skrik en onthou!Hy spring soos ‘n weerligstraal daar weg, maar te laat!Skilpad is oor die wenstreep!Al die diere juig en klap hande vir die wenner.”Jy sien”, sê Skilpad, “dit is waar wat hulle sê: HOE MEER HAAS, HOE MINDER SPOED. Jy het gedink jy is vinniger as ek en toe het jy te gerus geraak.”Skilpad stap weg met ‘n glimlag wat nou nog breër is.
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Quite recently I’ve translated a poem written by Wayne Visser into Afrikaans. The poem can be found here with Wayne’s comments:

https://chessaleeinlondon.wordpress.com/2008/05/21/ek-weet-van-n-plek-in-afrika/

A couple of days ago, he asked me to translate this poem: “I am an African” into Afrikaans and I felt it was an honour to be asked by him to do it. I’ve tried my best, as all my Afrikaans-bloggers know I’m no expert in translations, but I do try to convey the “message” of the poem, but sometimes, specially when not asked to do a translation, I might want to change the poem slightly to what I like, although I will keep the overall “message”, like the poem written by Wordsworth…”I wandered lonely like a cloud.”  Wayne also understands Afrikaans. He liked my interpretation of Wordsworth’s poem and I felt happy that a professional poet could also view his opinion, as you would agree that you sometimes don’t know really if you do any poem justice by translating it. I’ve done some translations from Afrikaans to English too and if you want to read some poems of some of South Africa’s best poets…you can click on the page that says…”my poems-gedigte” and read a few there. You will find Eugene Marais’s poem…”The dance of the rain” and Totius’s poem…”oh the painful thought..” and some others too. I do like to write my own too, which you will find on that page too. I want to stress it out …that I’m no professional, so enjoy whatever you find here and there’s always poetry sites where you can find poems written by professionals! Today, Sunday 7th Sept 2008,  I had two people putting in “Is Wayne Visser an Afrikaans writer” in  a search and were directed to my blog…as far as I could see, he doesn’t write in Afrikaans, I couldn’t find any of his poems or works in Afrikaans, but he does understand the Language…he speaks Afrikaans too. I do hope this helps, you can contact him via his website address…link at the bottom of this post – and email him!

Image: DK-images…Langebaan, Cape Town

Ek is van Afrika

Ek is van Afrika
Nie omdat ek daar gebore is
Maar omdat my hart met Afrika klop
Ek is van Afrika
Nie omdat my gelaat donker is
Maar omdat Afrika my gedagtes omgrens
Ek is van Afrika
Nie omdat ek van haar leef
Maar omdat my siel tuis is – in Afrika

Wanneer Afrika oor haar kinders ween
Is my wange deur traandruppels deurweek
Wanneer Afrika haar voorvaders eer
Buig my hoof in respek daarheen
Wanneer Afrika oor haar slagoffers rou
Is my hande in gebed gevou
Wanneer Afrika haar oorwinnings vier
Dans ek op die maat van die oorwinningslied

Ek is van Afrika
Met haar asemrowende ylblou lugruimtes
Laat sy die toekoms skitterend skyn
Ek is van Afrika
Waar ek gegroet word asof familie
En ek ervaar die gevoel van meervoudig
Ek is van Afrika
Want haar wildheid bring vertroosting vir my siel
En bring my nader na die bron van Lewe

Wanneer Afrika-musiek in die wind weerklink
Volg my polsslag die ritmiese klop
En word ek een met die klank
Wanneer die Afrika-kleure in die son glinster
Verdrink my sintuie in haar reënboog
En is ek die natuur se pallet
Wanneer die Afrika-verhale om die vure op-klink
Volg my voete hul tydlose ‘wink
En is ek die spore van die verle’

Ek is van Afrika
Want sy’s die krip van geboorte
En troetel die oer-oue wysheid
Ek is van Afrika
Want sy leef in die skadu van die wêreld
En brand met ‘n gloeiende inspirasie
Ek is van Afrika
Want sy is die land van môre
En ek eer haar tydlose geskenke

©Nikita — 2nd September 2008

The English version:
I Am An African

I am an African
Not because I was born there
But because my heart beats with Africa’s
I am an African
Not because my skin is black
But because my mind is engaged by Africa
I am an African
Not because I live on its soil
But because my soul is at home in Africa

When Africa weeps for her children
My cheeks are stained with tears
When Africa honours her elders
My head is bowed in respect
When Africa mourns for her victims
My hands are joined in prayer
When Africa celebrates her triumphs
My feet are alive with dancing

I am an African
For her blue skies take my breath away
And my hope for the future is bright
I am an African
For her people greet me as family
And teach me the meaning of community
I am an African
For her wildness quenches my spirit
And brings me closer to the source of life

When the music of Africa beats in the wind
My blood pulses to its rhythm
And I become the essence of sound
When the colours of Africa dazzle in the sun
My senses drink in its rainbow
And I become the palette of nature
When the stories of Africa echo round the fire
My feet walk in its pathways
And I become the footprints of history

I am an African
Because she is the cradle of our birth
And nurtures an ancient wisdom
I am an African
Because she lives in the world’s shadow
And bursts with a radiant luminosity
I am an African
Because she is the land of tomorrow
And I recognise her gifts as sacred

Copywright: Wayne Visser – 2005

Read more of his poetry at: www.waynevisser.com

Images: hotelsbible.com/travellog 19

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Image:trekearth.com/gallery/Europe/United_Kingdom/photo373524.htm
“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

http://www.wordsworth.org.uk/history/

lonely-cloud

Die Affodil-dans

Alleen wandel ek
soos ‘n los-wolkie
wat sweef oor hoë berge,
heuwels, valleie en dale
Skielik sien ek ‘n plaat Affodille
‘n blink-geel, songeel,
goudgeel versameling
wat skitter en skyn
langs die meer onder die bome
swewend en dansend
buigend en juigend
nÁ die Somerreëns

Langsamerhand – soos die sterreskyn
Glinsterend – soos in die Melkweg-lyn
Al langs die kant van die baai
Vang my blik die verruklike dans
die aanskoulike geswaai
van koppies wat draai
onder die hange van ‘n krans

Ver-weg op my rusbank
lê ek uitgestrek
Langsamerhand weerkaats
die dansende skynsel
in my binne-oog
Die opgewondenheid van alleen-wees
vervul my hart met plesier
en ek dans die dans!
van die blinkgeel, songeel,
goudgeel, bly-geel Affodille!

©Nikita 26th August 2008

Wordsworth’s house in Cockermouth, where he was born. He spent his later years in Dove Cottage – in Grasmere – and in 1813 they moved to Rydal Mount, where William and Mary stayed until their deaths in 1850 and 1859. Whilst at Rydal Mount William became Distributor of Stamps for Westmorland, and had an office in Church St Ambleside. In 1820 he published his ‘Guide through the District of the Lakes’. In 1842 he became the Poet Laureate, and resigned his office as Stamp Distributor. William married Mary quite late in his life. Something which I read about him, which you don’t read on all sites, is that he went to France in 1791 and met Annette Vallon. She gave him French lessons, for free, and they fell in love and she got pregnant. She had a girl and her name was Caroline. William wanted to return to support her with the child, but because of the war between England and France, he couldn’t return. I read this piece of info in the book…”Among the Lakes and fells” by John Kahn.

Follow the link to read more about him.  http://www.wordsworth.org.uk/history/

We’ve been away for the past week. We went to the Western part of the Lake District… had a few rainy days, so spent some of the days to visit some very exciting places. Only when we arrived at Mockerkin, the owners of our cottage informed us about Wordsworth’s house in Cockermouth and Beatrix Potter’s Hill Top-farm in Hawkshead and we were left with hundreds of leaflets, maps and books about surrounding areas. I’ve got zillions of wonderful pictures to sort out, but for a start, thought to post this poem which William Wordsworth wrote. I had the wonderful opportunity to read his sister, Dorothy’s Lakeland Journal, due to the weather! And, once again, due to the weather… I’ve translated William’s poem in Afrikaans, but I’ve also changed it a little bit, so it’s not exactly the same…and I call my poem…the Dance of the Daffodils! For now, you have to be satisfied with this poem, as I’ve got some unpacking to do…and tomorrow is a day with friends, so not much time for blogging, but I’ll try my best to upload a few more about the visit to William’s house in Cockermouth. Sadly, we didn’t visit Dove’s cottage in Grasmere,  where he spent his later years, as our time was a bit limited when we went to Hill Top farm. If you visit Hill Top farm, you get a timed ticket, which means you buy the ticket and can only enter the time your ticket tells you. In this way the National Trust try to control the number of visitors as the house is quite small and not many people at any one time can move around the house comfortably. Also, it’s a way to preserve to property, but more about Hill Top farm in another entry later this week!

 I’ve got so much to share and so many pictures to go through, but first things first…follow the link I’ve given to read a bit more. Please click on images for a larger view.

Wordsworth Museum

William Wordsworth’s sister, Dorothy, kept this diary…a diary which is worth reading! There is also the “Grasmere and Alfoxden Journals” to be read. I will definitely try and get hold of the “Grasmere”-diary  to read too.

Plaque inscription

Front garden  as seen through a window from the inside of the house

Rear garden through a window in Wordsworth’s house

Hand water pump!

Rear garden and house as seen from the garden

Bench in rear garden

Foot bridge behind Wordsworth house across River Derwent

River Derwent… River Cocker and River Derwent meet in Cockermouth

Dove cottage in Grasmere…which we didn’t visit

Image: and read more…

http://www.holiday-lakeland.co.uk/reivers/wilword.htm

 

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The Afrikaans Language Monument, Paarl, Cape Province, South Africa

The Afrikaans Language Monument…from a different angle

http://www.trekearth.com/gallery/Africa/South_Africa/photo600228.htm

The original idea behind the Afrikaans Language Museum in the 1970’s was to honour the members and work of the society – GRA – founded in 1875 in Paarl. Their aims were to establish Afrikaans as a written language, to standardise the language and to start publishing in Afrikaans. Gideon Malherbe was one of the founders.

This post will be mainly in Afrikaans…You can enjoy the images with the captions in English. As 14th Aug is an important day for Afrikaans, the language, -the most beautiful language in the whole wide world! -I would like to dedicate this post to Afrikaans, the language of my mother tongue, the language I love and the language I cherish! I do write many posts in English, as I have chess players on Chess World that come here often to read and the whole idea of my blog in the start was to blog about South Africa- the country I love – and to introduce them all to the most beautiful country in the world!  On this link – on my blog – you can see magazine covers in Afrikaans and also read some bits from the family magazine – “Huisgenoot” dated 1916 – Advertisements in English.https://chessaleeinlondon.wordpress.com/2007/09/28/huisgenoot1916/
Here’s an extract of Steve Hofmeyr’s song…”Gatvol”

Net een ding irriteer  my meer as ‘n Engelssprekende Suid Afrikaner   wat aanmatigend oor sy taal is. Daardie een ding wat my so grensloos irriteer en wat ek selfs verafsku, is Afrikaners wat probeer Engels wees. Sulke spontane kulturele selfverkragting is tipies van ‘n sekere tipe agterlike Afrikaner. Ja, diegene ly blykbaar aan’n intense minderwaardigheidsgevoel oor hul herkoms…http://www.praag.org/mambo/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=40&Itemid=37

Die  inligting wat nou volg,  het ek van Roosmaryn se blog gekry. Ek geniet haar blog geweldig en kuier gereeld daar. Jy sal haar blognaam kry in my verwysings. Hierdie inligting is alles wat in my soektog op haar blog opgekom het toe ek na inligting oor die GRA gesoek het. Sommige van julle sal weet dat 14 Aug altyd as “Afrikaanse dag”  – “herdenk” is. Dit is die dag waarop die GRA (Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners) gestig is ..14 Aug 1875. Lees hierdie brokkies van Roosmaryn, dis werklik interessant. Aan die einde van hierdie pos is daar twee gedigte…jy kan op die bladsy “my poetry-gedigte” nog meer Afrikaanse gedigte ook vind.
FAK se Taalkomitee gestig
2 Junie 1967

Die Hoofbestuur van die FAK het sy Taalkomitee gestig om hom te adviseer oor die wyse waarop die FAK sy taak ten opsigte van die handhawing en bevordering van Afrikaans kan uitvoer. Die komitee het van meet af aan doelgerig aandag geskenk aan die bevordering van Afrikaans onder meer in die sakewêreld, die hotelbedryf, die staatsdiens, die vervoerwese, op alle onderwys vlakke en die naamgewing van strate en dorpsgebiede. Dit is gedoen by wyse van gereelde briefwisseling en persoonlike onderhoude. Boek uitstallings, soos die omvangryke boeke fees in die Taalfeesjaar in die Paarl in 1975, is ‘n gereelde projek van die komitee om die lees van die Afrikaanse boek te bevorder. Die Langenhoven fees is in 1973 gereël, die gevierde skryfster M.E.R. is met haar honderdste verjaardag vereer, en huldigingsfeeste vir Totius (1977) en A.G. Visser -1978- is gehou. Die publikasies Afrikaans ons Pêrel van Groot Waarde en GRA Herdenk is op inisiatief van die komitee in 1974 en 1975 uitgegee. Afrikaans was by verskeie Algemene Vergaderings die kongres tema, en gereelde artikels oor al die aspekte van taalbevordering word vir Handhaaf gelewer. FAK–365Spore.blogspot.com


22 April 1923
D.F. (Oom Lokomotief) du Toit oorlede

Daniel Francois du Toit, D.P. seun, in later jare alombekend as Oom Lokomotief, is op 15 Januarie 1846 op die plaas Kleinbos, Daljosafat, gebore en is in Bloemfontein oorlede. Hy was ‘n stigterslid van die Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners. In 1878 word hy redakteur van die Afrikaanse Patriot, en hy oefen op die wyse geweldig baie invloed uit op die Taalbeweging. Van Die Patriot het hy ‘n gevestigde koerant met invloed gemaak. Hy het so eie met die lesers gesels dat hulle vertroue in sy koerant gehad het. Alle moontlike vrae word daarin beantwoord; daar word raad gegee, moed ingepraat en koers aangedui. Daar ontstaan ‘n onverbreekbare band tussen leser en redakteur. Met die veranderde politieke houding van sy ouer broer, ds. S.J. du Toit, leier van die GRA, kon hy nie saamgaan nie, en hy verlaat saam met C.P. Hoogenhout in 1891 Die Patriot. In 1892 verhuis hy na die Vrystaat, waar hy later in Bloemfontein argivaris was. Aka fak P.J.N–365Spore.blogspot.com

1874
W. Postma gebore

Willem (dr. O’kulis) Postma was ‘n Gereformeerde predikant, baanbreker skrywer en streng Calvinis. In Bloemfontein beywer hy hom vir die erkenning van Afrikaans as taal en voorspel dat Afrikaans een van die amptelike tale van Suid-Afrika sal word. Hy het as CNO-man die Engelse Onderwysstelsel in die OVS heftig teëgestaan. Gevolglik stig hy die eerste CNO-skool in 1905 in die voorportaal van die Gereformeerde Kerk, Bloemfontein. In 1916 word hy voorsitter van die provinsiale onderwyskommissie in die OVS. Op die eerste vergadering van die Bybelvertalings kommissie (22November 1916) verteenwoordig hy die Gereformeerde Kerk en in dieselfde jaar verskyn uit sy pen ‘n vertaling in Afrikaans van die Nuwe Testamentiese boek Titus. In 1914 word hy die regterhand van genl. J.B.M. Hertzog tydens die stigting van die Nasionale Party. In 1909 verskyn sy werk, Die esels kakebeen. Hy is op 13 Desember 1920 op Reddersburg oorlede. Aka fak D.E


1876
Eerste Beginsels van die Afrikaanse Taal gepubliseer

Die voorstanders van Afrikaans het dadelik besef dat ‘n Afrikaanse spraakkuns onontbeerlik is. Nog voor die stigting van die Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners skryf Een Ware Afrikaander (ds. S.J. du Toit) op 30 Januarie 1875 aan Klaas Waarzegger jr. (C.P. Hoogenhout) oor die Eerste Beginsels van die Afrikaanse Taal onder meer die Eerste Beginsels van die Afrikaanse Taal onder meer Die eerste vraag sal wees …wat is die Afrikaanse taal? Die eerste boekies is geskryf en gedruk ooreenkomstig ‘n bepalingin die statute van die GRA. Die naam van die vroegste werkie is Eerste Beginsels van die Afrikaanse Taal (1876), wat veral die hand van ds. S.J. du Toit verraai, maar waaraan ook eerw.. J.W. van der Rijst en C.P. Hoogenhout meegewerk het. Dit was maar dun en het slegs 29 bladsye leesstof bevat. Ses jaar later is dit herdruk en in 1897 deur ds. Du Toit enigsins omgewerk, toe 6 000 eksemplare van die Fergelykende Taalkunde fan Afrikaans en Engels, soos dit nou heet, gedruk is. In 1902 was ‘n herdruk al nodig. Die GRA is op hulle vergaderings gereeld op die hoogte gehou van die vordering wat gemaak is met die skryf en publikasie van Eerste Beginsels. Aka fak P.J.N

1859
E.J. du Toit gebore

Erns Johannes du Toit, oorlede op 12 Januarie 1924, was hoof van die drukkers firma D.F. du Toit en Co. en later lid van die Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners. Hy het verskeie van die eerste Afrikaanse boeke uitgegee en ook die laaste jaargange van die koerante Die Afrikaanse Patriot en die tydskrif Ons Klyntji.
Aka fak prof. dr. P.J. Nienaber

1876
Die Afrikaanse Patriot verskyn vir die eerste keer

Met die stigting van die Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners op 14 Augustus 1875 in die Paarl is ‘n tydvak van georganiseerde stryd om die Afrikaanse taal ingelui. In artikel IX van die Genootskap se bepalings word beoog om ‘n Afrikaanse maandblad uit te gee. Op hierdie dag in 1876 verskyn die eerste uitgawe van die maandblad Die Afrikaanse Patriot, wat die orgaan van die GRA sou wees. C.P. Hoogenhout was die eerste redakteur onder die skuilnaam Oom Lokomotief, wat deur die redakteurs na hom oorgeneem is. In Die Patriot dek die GRA die terreine van hul doelstelling, naamlik die van land, volk en taal. Daarin is leiding gegee ten opsigte van landsake, die Afrikaanse taal, geskiedenis en belangrike nuus. ‘n Rubriek van vrae en antwoorde is ontwerp om weetgierigheid op te wek en te bevredig. Afrikaners is aangemoedig om bydraes te stuur, sodat hulle kon leer om hulle taal ook te skryf. Die redaksie het lesers aangespoor om gedigte hou foutief ook al, in te stuur. Deur taal bespreking wou die GRA liefde, eerbied en belangstelling opwek vir die Afrikaanse taal. In eenvoudige spreektaal sou die lesers ingelig word oor die vernaamste nuus. So kon plattelandse Afrikaners bereik en opgevoed word vir wie die Hollandse en Engelse taal moeilik leesbaar was. Die Patriot het sterk teenkanting ontvang sowel van Hollandse as van Engelse kant. Medewerkers het onder skuilname geskryf en moes dikwels onder growwe spot deurloop. Die sterkste teenkanting het van die voorstanders van Hollands gekom, wat Nederlands as die volkstaal gesien het en Afrikaans as ‘n “patois”, ‘n Hotnotstaaltjie beskou het. Ten spyte van teenkanting het die redaksie soms met groot opoffering voorgegaan, en teen 1880 was Die Patriot die mees gelese blad in Suid-Afrika. Dit was veral te danke aan die politieke houding wat die blad aangeneem het, gebaseer op Christelike beginsels en die strewe om die Afrikaanse volksaak te bevorder. In 1904 is die blad gestaak na kwynende belangstelling, veral as gevolg van die veranderde politieke beleid van S.J. du Toit, wat sy steun aan Rhodes toegesê het. Die redaksie van Die Patriot het insig in die behoeftes van die volk gehad en was daarop ingestel om by die eenvoudige Afrikaners die behoefte aan geestesvoedsel op te wek en dan daarin te voorsien. Die blad het leiding gegee in landsake en die Afrikaner laat belang stel in die politiek. Die Patriot het baie bygedra tot die ontwaking van ‘n Afrikanernasionalisme deur die Afrikaner bewus te maak van die skoonheid van sy taal, sy eie grootse geskiedenis en sy unieke geestesbesit. Dit het die Afrikaner leer lees en skryf en hom laat besef dat sy spreektaal nie vir Hollands as skryftaal hoef terug te staan nie. As die eerste Afrikaanse koerant, het Die Patriot ‘n onberekenbare bydrae gelewer tot die opheffing van Afrikaans tot skryf- en volkstaal. Aka fak prof. dr. P.G. Nel

1865
Jan F.E. Celliers gebore

Johannes Francois Elias Celliers was ‘n bekende Afrikaanse skrywer, digter en dramaturg. Hy lê sy Landmeters eksamen in Nederland af, maar word later ‘n amptenaar in die onderwysdepartement van die ZAR en in 1894 staatsbibliotekaris in Pretoria. Met die uitbreek van die Engelse Oorlog, sluit hy hom by die kommando’s aan, en in 1902 vertrek hy na Europa, waar hy sy beroemde gedig: Die Vlakte skryf. In 1907 keer hy na Suid-Afrika terug en werk by die Departement van Binnelandse Sake in Transvaal. In 1919 word hy ‘n buitengewone professoraat aan die Universiteit van Stellenbosch aangebied. Baie van sy verse weerspieël sy huislikheid en liefde vir kinders. Behalwe sy digterlike arbeid, werk hy ook mee tot die stigting van Die Brandwag. Hy was ‘n volksdigter, “een wat in woorde vaslê wat in die hart van die nasie omgaan” (Preller). Sy prosawerk is van weinig literêre waarde, maar as digter beklee hy ‘n besondere plek in die Afrikaanse letterkunde. Hy vestig hom na sy aftrede aanvanklik in Kaapstad maar later op Harrismith, waar hyop 1 Junie 1940 oorlede is. aka fak prof. dr. P.G. Nel


Vryheidslied

Vrome vad’re fier en groot!
Deur vervolging, ramp en nood,
was hul leuse, tot die dood:
Vryheid! Vryheid!

Erfnis van hul moed en trou
is die grond waar ons op bou.
Juigend tot die hemelblou:
Vryheid! Vryheid!

Ere wie die dood mag lei
om te rus aan hulle sy,
met die sterwenswoord te skei:
Vryheid! Vryheid!

Op dan, broers en druk hul spoor,
voorwaarts, broers, die vaandel voor,
laat die veld ons krygsroep hoor:
Vryheid! Vryheid!

Woes geweld mag hoogty hou,
kettings mag ons lede knou,
maar die leuse bly ons trou:
Vryheid! Vryheid!

Jukke mag vir slawe wees,
manneharte ken geen vrees,
duld geen boei vir lyf of gees:
Vryheid! Vryheid!

Woorde: JaN F.E. Celliers
Musiek: Emiel Hullebroeck


Die vlakte

Ek slaap in die rus van die eeue gesus,
ongesien, ongehoord,
en dof en loom in my sonnedroom,
ongewek, ongestoord.
Tot die yl-bloue bande van die ver-verre rande
skuif my breedte uit,
wyd-kringend aan die puur al-omwelwend asuur
wat my swyend omsluit.

Jong aarde se stoot het my boesem ontbloot
bo die diep van die meer;
en volswanger van lewe ‘t oor die waat’re geswewe
die gees van die Heer.
Uit die woelende nag van haar jeugdige krag
brag die aarde voort
Lewiatansgeslagte, geweldig van kragte –
storm-ontruk aan haar skoot.
Diep in my gesteente berg ek hul gebeente –
die geheim van hul lewe en lot;
maar gewek uit die sode herleef uit die dode,
na die ewig hernuwingsgebod,
die van d’ verlede in vorme van d’ hede,
in eindeloos komme en gaan;
wat die dood my vertrou ‘t, ek bewaar dit as goud,
en geen grein sal ‘k verlore laat gaan.

As die son oor my vloer in die more kom loer,
en die dou van my lippe kom kus,
dan kyk ek net stom met ‘n glimlag om
en ek le maar weer stil in my rus.
Hog bowe die kim op sy troon geklim,
is hy heer van lewe en dood;
na wil of luim gee hy, skraal of ruim,
verderf of lewensbrood.

Uit die gloeiende sfeer brand hy wreed op my neer,
tot my naaktheid kraak en skroei,
en my koorsige asem in bewende wasem
al hygend my bors ontvloei.
In sy skadetjie rond om sy stam op die grond
staat ‘n eensame doringboom,
soos die Stilte op haar troon, met dorings gekroon,
wat roerloos die eeue verdroom.
Geen drop vir die dors aan my stofdroe bors:
my kinders* versmag en beswyk,
en die stowwe staan soos hul trek en gaan
om my skrale dis te ontwyk.

Soos ‘n vlokkie skuim uit die sfere se ruim
kom ‘n wolkie aangesweef,
maar hy groei in die blou tot ‘n stapelbou
van marmer wat krul en leef –
kolossaal monument op sy swart fondament,
waar die bliksem in brul en beef.
En o, met my is die windjies bly:
hul spring uit die stof orent
en wals en draai in dwarrelswaai
oor my vloer, van ent tot ent:
die gras skud hul wakker om same te jakker,
tot hy opspring uit sy kooi
en soos mane en sterte van jaende perde
sy stingels golf en gooi.

Met dof-sware plof, soos koeels in die stof,
kom die eerste drupples neer,
tot dit ruis alom soos deur die gebrom
en gekraak van die donderweer.
Met kloue vooruit om te gryp en te buit
jaag ‘n haelwolk langs verby,
soos ‘n perde-kommande wat dreun oor die lande
vertrap en gesel hy-
en sy lyke-kleed sien ek ver en breed
in die awendson gesprei.

Stil in die duister le ‘k so en luister
hoe die spruite gesels en lag;
maar bowe die pak van my wolkedak
het die maan al lank gewag:
nou breek en skeur hy ‘n baan daardeur
om te deel in my vreug benede;
hy sprei die waas van sy romig-blou gaas-
en ek lag so stil-tevrede.
Plek op plek, soos die wolke trek,
sweef die skaduwees onder mee,
soos eilande wyd oor die waat’re verspreid
op die boesem van die grote see.
Met ‘n afskeidskus gaan die maan ook ter rus,
en ek wag op die daeraad-
so skoon en so mooi soos ‘n fris jong nooi
wat lag in haar bruidsgewaad.

Oor die bukte se rug slaat die gloed in die lug
van die brande wat ver-weg kwyn,
en doringbome fluister in rooi skemerduister
van gevare wat kom of verdwyn.
Uit slote en plas, uit die geurende gras,
styg ‘n danklied op ten hemel;
en dis net of ek hoor hoe die kriekies se koor
weergalm uit die sterre gewemel,
waar wêrelde gaan op hul stille baan
tot die einde van ruimte en tyd.
So, groots en klaar, staat Gods tempel daar,
wyd – in sy majesteit.

* “kinders” is wildsbokke
Uit “Die Vlakte” -1908-

1847
Ds. S.J. du Toit Gebore
Stephanus Jacobus du Toit is op Dal Josafat by die Paarl gebore. Hy het sy skool-en teologiese opleiding respektiewelik aan die Paarlse Gimnasium en die Kweekskool op Stellenbosch ontvang. S.J. du Toit was onder die invloed van Arnoldus Pannevis ‘n vurige voorvegter vir Afrikaansas selfstandige taal. Sy politiek-nasionale doelstelling- “om te staan vir ons taal, ons nasie en ons land” – het hy deur die stigting van die Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners (GRA) op 14 Augustus 1875, met as spreekbuis Die Afrikaanse Patriot, die Afrikanerbond in 1879 en sy aandeel in die opstel van die Afrikaanse Volkslied, bevorder. Hy kan daarom as die eerste Afrikaanse Nasionalisbeskou word. In 1882 het hy Superintendent van Onderwys in Transvaal geword. Sy onderwyswet het die onderwys in die Republiek bevorder. Sy eersug en betrokkenheid by Transvaalse politieke aangeleenthede, soos die Wesgrens-kwessie, die Pretoria-Konvensie, aandelespekulasies in die Goudstad, leerstellige aangeleenthede en sy teenkanting teen die regering se konsessiebeleid, het hom in regeringskringe ongewild gemaak. In 1888 het hy as Superintendent van Onderwys bedank en hom weer in die Paarl gaan vestig, waar hy hom met die vertaling van die Bybel in Afrikaans, ‘n taak deur die GRA in 1885 aan hom oorgedra, besig gehou het. Hy was dus ook ‘n baanbreker op die gebied van die Afrikaanse Bybelvertaling. Na sy terugkeer in die Paarl het hy die beleidsrigting van Die Patriot gewysig. Sy kritiek op die Krugerbewind en pleidooie vir konsiliasie tussen Brits- en Afrikaanssprekendes het hom verder van sy mede-Afrikaners vervreem. Die gevolg was dat die Eerste Taalbeweging, waarvan hy die vader was, teen 1900 doodgeloop het. In sy tweede Paarlse tydperk het ds. S.J. du Toit egter verbasend veel ter bevordering van die Afrikaanse taal en letterkunde sowel as oor algemene en godsdienstige onderwerpe gepubliseer. Hy het verskeie Afrikaanse boeke geskryf, soos Die Koningin van Skeba (1898), die eerste Afrikaanse gepubliseerde drame. Hy het ook gedigte geskryf, maar hulle is nooit gebundel nie. Hy is algemeen beskou as die “Vader van die Afrikaanse taal; stigter van die Afrikanerbond en stryder van die Calvinisme”. (Die inskripsie op sy graf). In sy lewe was hy predikant van die NG Kerk, Calvinistiese teoloog, Bybelvertaler, leier van die Eerste Afrikaanse Taalbeweging, skrywer, Superintendent van Onderwys in Transvaal, en koerant- en tydskrifredakteur. Op ‘n besoek aan Calvinia in Augustus 1910 het sy perdekar omgeval. Die ernstige beserings wat hy in die ongeluk opgedoen het, het uiteindelik gelei tot sy sterwe op 28 Mei 1911 op Kleinbosch, Dal Josafat. Dankie aan Roosmaryn! 365Spore.blogspot.com

The National Afrikaans Literature Museum in Bloemfontein

Charlize Theron…Afrikaans speaking..and proud to admit it!

This T-shirt says…”my dad is bigger than your dad!”…you all know that one for sure!

As jy ‘n DelaRey t-shirt het…sal jy die woorde ken!

This t-shirt says: Daddy’s little sperm!! hehe

This card says…”I love you” in Afrikaans.

Afrikaans on T-shirts…image found on google

Jou afwesigheid
Die son se stilte sprei oor die more-dou
en maak jou afwesigheid soveel moeiliker
Tyd kan nie uitvee die herinneringe
En moeiliker die misverstande
Nog die gebroke siel heel
Maar die soete verlede van lank gele’
Steek vas en onderhou my geheue
Verblydend is jou bestaan
Wat my wêreld  verkleur!

–©Nikita–

 

birds_flying

Afrikaans
Die taal wat ek liefhet
Afrikaans
Die taal wat ek praat
Afrikaans
Die taal waarin ek dink
Afrikaans
Die taal waarin ek droom
Afrikaans
Die taal van my hart
Afrikaans
Die taal wat ek koester
Vir nou en altyd
Afrikaans
Jy is myne
Afrikaans
Jy is nou
Afrikaans
Jy is besonders
Afrikaans
Jy is uniek
Afrikaans
Jy is getrou
Afrikaans:
My denke
My wese
My lewe!
©Nikita 2008
Nadat ek die kort gediggie geskryf het, het ek dit op verskeie webbladsye gelees – en ek is bly julle almal geniet dit! Maak asseblief net seker dat jy krediet gee aan wie dit verskuldig is.
Afrikaanse stories op hierdie link op my blog:
Dankie weereens aan Roosmaryn: 365Spore.blogspot.com

O, BOEREPLAAS

Woorde: C.F. VISSER
Musiek: JOHANNES JOUBERT; verwerk: ARTHUR ELLIS

O boereplaas, geboortegrond!
Jou het ek lief bo alles.
Al dwaal ek heel die wêreld rond,
waar so gelukkig, so gesond?
O boereplaas, geboortegrond!
Jou het ek lief bo alles.

O moederhuis, waar ooit so tuis?
Jou het ek lief bo alles.
Die wêreld, rykdom, prag en praal
kan jou verlies my nooit betaal.
O moederhuis, waar ooit so tuis?
Jou het ek lief bo alles.

O moedertaal, o soetste taal!
Jou het ek lief bo alles.
Van al die tale wat ek hoor,
niks wat my siel ooit so bekoor.
O moedertaal, o soetste taal!
Jou het ek lief bo alles.

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wolf en jakkals

T O Honiball


T O Honiball

Thomas Ochse Honiball was born on 7 December 1905 in Cradock. He attended school in Stellenbosch and did drawings for the school magazine. He studied architecture at the University of Cape Town (until 1926). In 1927 he continued to study commercial art in Chicago, where he was introduced to American cartoons. On his return to Cape Town in 1930 he worked in advertising and later as freelance caricaturist and cartoonist. From 1936 he worked for Nasionale Pers newspapers and in 1941 took over from DC Boonzaier as political caricaturist.

T.O. Honiball married Iona Boesen in 1934. They had four children.
Iona died in 1971. Honiball was married to Essie de Villiers – Dreyer in 1973. (Essie Honiball)
He retired in 1974 and held his first one man exhibition in Pretoria in the same year.
He continued to sketch political caricatures until 1978.

In 1977 he donated his Honiballiana – collections to Stellenbosch University and the National Library Museum (NALN – Nasionale Afrikaanse Letterkundige Museum en Navorsingssentrum) in Bloemfontein. In 1985 he bestowed his collection of political caricatures to the Nasionale Pers.
1986: Foundation of TO Honiball-Promosies
T.O. Honiball died on 22 Februarie 1990 in Montagu.

Source: HERE…and read on WIKIPEDIA more about him.

Image: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/78/247418341_9131adefc8.jpg?v=0

English readers: There’s an English story at the end of this post for you….! Do enjoy!

On this next link you can read about Afrikaans stories and there are some PDF’s to download about Stories/poems – in Afrikaans, mostly for use by teachers or parents doing homeschooling. The link will open in a new window.

https://chessaleeinlondon.wordpress.com/2008/09/26/storietyd-storytime/

Afrikaans Children’s stories are loaded with stories written about Wolf and Jackal. You can say It’s part of our culture…and almost our history. If you’re an Afrikaans speaking child and you don’t know about Wolf and Jackal-stories – written by PW Grobbelaar, you definitely have a H-U-G-E gap in your upbringing…and your culture… I can’t even think that it would happen, only if you’re now living in another country, yes, that’s possible…but then it’s your parents’ fault if you don’t know about these stories! In these stories, Jackal always plays the joke on Wolf….. We have the most wonderful stories about Wolf and Jackal and the most wonderful people to bring these stories alive to us and our children. One such a person was Dana Niehaus. Sadly, he passed away more than ten years ago…and we’re lucky to have his son, Danie! Danie is a singer and he’s got that wonderful personality his dad had too.  I’ve got a cd with some of these Wolf and Jackal stories where his dad tells those stories and would like to upload one favourite here later today. I just LOVE his way of retelling these stories. I used these stories with my grade 3 children in listening skills activities and they used to laugh more than they’d listen, so we all listened the story out first, laughed ourselves to bits and then the second time we sat with straight faces…- even though it was a bit hard – to listen to the story again…I’ve found a couple of stories on the internet…the source is at the bottom of this post…do enjoy them on the audio files too… luckily these stories are also in many other languages available! and they always have the most wonderful illustrated images and TO Honiball was one of the best to illustrate these books……...ok…now in Afrikaans…Ek hoop julle geniet hierdie stories en ek het gewonder, is daar enige Afrikaanssprekendes in die buiteland wat hulle tuis Afrikaans leer…ek sal graag van jou wil hoor as jy hier lees en jy een van hulle is…
Hier is een van Dana Niehaus se vertellings : Jakkals wil mos jok…van ‘n Bollie-plaat. Gepraat van “Bollie”…dis so jammer dat Huisgenoot die Bollie verander het na Bobo!! waar gaan die lewe heen!! ons arme kinders het net lief geword vir Bollie…en nou moet ons hoor dat Bollie nie meer bestaan nie! Bollie was so DEEL van onskultuur“…!! Further down in this post you will find more audio stories.

Jakkals en Wolf is honger


Audio file: Jakkals vertrou sy eie vrede nie

Jakkals vertrou sy eie vrede nie…
Die Mooiste Afrikaanse Sprokies
uitgesoek en oorvertel deur
PIETER W. GROBBELAAR

JAKKALS VERTROU SY EIE VREDE NIE
Op ‘n oggend snuffel Jakkals tussen ‘n klompie bome rond, toe hy Hoenderhaan op ‘n hoë tak gewaar.
“Môre, my liewe Haan,” groet hy vriendelik.
“Môre, Jakkals,” groet Haan. “En waar stap jy dié tyd van die oggend nog rond?”
“Ek soek ‘n bietjie ordentlike geselskap,” sê Jakkals vinnig. “Maar dis nie lekker om so kop in die lug te staan en praat nie. Kom sit liewers hier by my.”
“O nee,” antwoord Hoenderhaan. “Ek ken jou streke. As ek naby jou kom, eet jy my op.”
“Nog nooit nie!” roep Jakkals uit. “Het jy dan nie gehoor nie? Daar is vrede in Afrika onder al die nasies.”
“Koe-ke-le-koe!” lag Haan.
“Hoekom lag jy?” vra Jakkals.
“Nee, ek lag sommer vir al jou stories,” antwoord Haan. “En dan lag ek vir my eie storie ook.”
“Wat se storie is dit?” vra Jakkals.
“Gisteraand het Wildehond my bekruip,” vertel Haan. Toe moes ek die bome in vlug. Nou is Boer met sy honde op pad om my te soek. Ek kan hulle al sien aankom.”
“Nou ja, dan groet ek maar eers,” sê Jakkals skielik haastig.
“Hoekom wil jy al loop Jakkals?” vra Haan. “Ons gesels nou eers lekker. Jy is tog seker nie bang vir die honde nie. Daar is mos vrede in Afrika.”
“O ja,”‘ antwoord Jakkals, “maar die vraag is of die onnosele honde daarvan weet.” En hy draf vinnig weg.

Sop

Die Mooiste Afrikaanse Sprokies
uitgesoek en oorvertel deur
PIETER W. GROBBELAAR

Die Boesmans het die dierewêreld fyn deurgekyk. Daarom is Leeu vir hulle die sterke, Wolf soos Hiëna dikwels genoem word ‘n wreedaard, en Jakkals ‘n lafhartige bedelaar.

Wolf het ‘n ver pad geloop om by sy broer te gaan kuier. Nou is hy honger en dors. In die veld kry hy Leeu wat aan ‘n sebra lê en eet. ‘n Entjie weg sit Jakkals vir ‘n bietjie oorskiet en wag.

Naand, Leeu,” sê Wolf vriendelik.

“Mmm,” sê Leeu, en hy kraak ‘n murgbeen oop.

Wolf gaan op sy hurke sit. “Hoe lyk dit, nooi jy my dan nie om ‘n stukkie saam te eet nie?”

“Ja, ja!” sê Jakkals gretig.

“Bly stil!” sê Wolf, en Jakkals gee ‘n paar tree pad.

“Nee,” sê Leeu, en hy skeur aan die boud se sagte vleis.

“Net so ‘n bietjie soppies om op te lek,” vra Wolf. “Ek is baie dors.”

“Ek lek my eie sop,” sê Leeu.

“Net ‘n ou murgbeentjie om af te eet,” soebat Wolf.

“Dè, vat dan!” sê Leeu, en hy gooi vir Wolf die been wat hy nou net self droog gesuig het.

“En wat van my, Leeu ? ” vra Jakkals met ‘n huilstem.

“Trap!” sê Leeu, en hy mik met sy voorvoet.

Jakkals verskuif nog ‘n entjie verder weg.

Wolf vat die been, en hy kou daaraan asof hy tog te lekker kou, en
hy suig daaraan asof daar baie te suig is. Toe staan hy op. “Baie dankie, Leeu,” sê hy. “Ek sal sulke vriendelikheid nie vergeet nie. Kom eet gerus môreaand ‘n bietjie sop by my.

“Dankie, ja,” sê Leeu, en hy lek al klaar sy lippe af, want hy weet Wolf se maats is dood as dit by sop kook kom.

“Dankie, ja!” sê Jakkals asof Wolf hom ook genooi het, en hy gaan lek die droë been af wat Wolf laat agterbly het.

Agter die bultjie kom Wolf op ‘n volstruis af. Dis net vere en voete, en toe begin Wolf weglê. Die stuk wat oorbly, sleep hy saam huis toe. “Eet julle maar die vleis, ” sê hy vir sy vrou en kinders. “Laat bly net die bene vir my.”

Die volgende dag sit Wolf twee potte op die vuur vir die volstruissop. Die een pot haal hy betyds af om koud te word, maar die ander pot hou hy kookwarm.

Dis ook nie te lank nie, of hier kom Leeu aan met Jakkals op sy spoor. “Hoe lyk dit met daardie sop waarvan jy gepraat het, Wolf?” vra Leeu.

“Ja, hoe lyk dit met die sop?” vra Jakkals.

“Kom sit maar hier in die ry,” sê Wolf, en hy beduie waar sy vrou en kinders al wag.

Vrou Wolf hou haar mond oop, en Wolf gooi in, maar dis van die koue pot s’n. So gaan hy van kind tot kind, en hulle drink tog te lekker. Maar toe hy by Leeu en Jakkals kom, skep hy twee bekers van die vuurwarm sop uit.

“Maak wyd oop!” sê hy, en hulle maak so.

Toe gooi hy.

Leeu wil nog sluk, toe spu hy al dat die sop met so ‘n wye boog staan. “Sjoe, vriend Wolf,” sê hy kortasem, “maar jou sop is vandag darem kwaai.”

“Dis van ‘n volstruis se bene,” sê Wolf. “Dié voël kan mos so kwaai skop. Wil jy nog ‘n bietjie hê?”

“Nee, dankie,” sê Leeu, “ek dink ek loop maar weer.”

En Jakkals? Hy kan nie insluk nie, want dis te warm. En hy kan nie uitspu nie, want hy is te bang vir Wolf. Daarom sit hy so met die trane wat oor sy wange loop. Maar toe Leeu wegdraf, draf hy saam, en hy maak sy mond agter ‘n bossie leeg. En nou nog as Jakkals so in die maanskyn wag dat Leeu klaar moet eet, en hy dink aan daardie sop, dan begin hy sommer van nuuts af huil.

Luister maar mooi.

“Kwaai sop!” tjank Jakkals. “Volstruissop! Volstruissop met ‘n skop!”

Vat hom Jakkals!

Die Mooiste Afrikaanse Sprokies
uitgesoek en oorvertel deur
PIETER W. GROBBELAAR

VAT HOM, JAKKALS!
Deur hul aanraking met mekaar, het die sprokies van die verskillende rasse so vermeng dat ‘n mens soms nie weet waar die Boesman storie ophou en die Hottentot invloed begin nie om van die invloed van wit en swart mense nie eens te praat nie. Maar die belangrikste bly die verhaal self.
i. Ryperd
Jakkals is kwaad vir Hasie, want hy het stories by vrou Jakkals gaan aandra, en nou het sy haar man die huis belet. Maar Hasie het baie planne. Op ‘n dag hoor hy Jakkals suutjies in die paadjie draf. Toe gaanhy in die bossies en kreun.
“Ha! nou het ek jou, Haas,” sê Jakkals, en hy wil net spring, maar Hasie antwoord met ‘n swak stem: “Vat my maar, Jakkals. Ek is te siek om te vlug. Tel my op jou rug, dan dra jy my huis toe.”
En Jakkals dink dis glad nie so ‘n slegte plan nie. Nou sal sy vrou sommer weer vir hom goed word as hy met ‘n lekker stuk haasvleis daar aankom. Jakkals laat loop in die paadjie af, en Hasie moet net klou.
Jakkals, Jakkals!” roep hy later, “Die vlieë pla baie. Pluk tog vir my ‘n taaibostakkie dat ek hulle kan wegjaag.”
“Ai, jy is lastig,” sê Jakkals, en hy gaan pluk maar.
Toe hulle nog van ver af na Jakkals se huis toe aankom, staan sy vrou al op die stoep om te kyk wat haar man hier kom soek. “Vrou, vrou!” roep Jakkals. “Ek het vir jou ‘n lekker vet haas gebring.”
Maar kyk, nou sit Hasie regop, en die pyne is skielik uit sy lyf, en die taaibostak is ‘n lat. “Vrou, vrou!” koggel hy Jakkals. “Ek het vir jou ‘n lekker vet jakkals gebring!” En die lat gesels oor Jakkals se blaaie, en Jakkals bokspring en galop. Toe wip Hasie van sy rug af en verdwyn lag lag in die bossies.
“Nee, so ‘n treurige man wil ek nie hê nie,” sê vrou Jakkals. “Waar het jy al van ‘n jakkals gehoor wat hom deur ‘n haas laat ry? Maak dat jy wegkom hier voor my oë!”

ii. Die Byekerk
Hasie hardloop na die berg se kant toe, en daar sien hy ’n bynes diep in ‘n klipskeur. “Ai!” sê Hasie:
Lekker is lekker,
en goed is goed
en die beste lekker
is heuningsoet!”
En Hasie druk sy kop diep in die skeur om die nes by te kom, maar hy het nie geweet dat Jakkals al weer spoorsny nie. Hy sit nog so, toe Jakkals hom aan die hakskeen gryp. “Ha! nou het ek jou, Haas,” sê Jakkals, en hy wil hom sommer sy tande laat proe.
Maar Hasie het klaar geskrik en ver gedink. “Sjuut, Jakkals,” sê hy. “Kan jy nie hoor my vriende hou kerk nie?”
“Waar?” vra Jakkals nuuskierig.
Hier in die klipskeur,” sê Hasie. “Ai, hulle sing tog te pragtig!”
“Laat ek hoor, sê Jakkals, en hy druk sommer in. Dan trek hy sy kop weer uit en sê: “Nee wat, hulle kan nie sing nie. Dis net brom brom brom, al op dieselfde wysie.”
Hulle is seker moeg,” sê Hasie. “Steek ‘n bietjie ‘n stok daar by die voordeur in dat hulle weet ons is hier. Dan moet jy hoor.”
En Jakkals gryp ‘n stok, en hy werskaf in die klipskeur rond, en toe druk hy sy kop in om goed te luister.
Nee kyk, dit was ‘n sonde. Die bye mors met Jakkals; hulle verniel hom; hulle steek hom byna dood. Hy spring om en hardloop, maar die bye het nie tyd nie. Dis net zoem tjiek! “Eina!” Zoem tjiek! Zoem tjiek! Zoem tjiek! “Eina! Eina! Eina!”
Hasie lê soos hy lag. Hy rol soos hy lag. Hy maak hom eintlik seer. Nee, Jakkals sal hom nie gou weer pla nie.

iii. Vat Hom, Jakkals!
Maar Hasie is glad te gerus. Sing sing in die paadjie. Wirts warts om die bossies. Kyk nie waar hy loop nie; trap nie waar hy kyk nie. Woep! daar sit hy. Jakkals het voëlent aan ‘n stomp gesmeer en dit in die paadjie neergesit. Hasie spook, maar hy sit al hoe vaster. Hy ruk en pluk en skree.
Jakkals kom tussen die bossies uit. “Ha! nou het ek jou, Haas!” sê hy. Sy lippe is nog altyd skeef geswel van die bysteke sodat dit lyk asof hy nie kan ophou lag nie.
Hasie word stil. Ja, jy het my, Jakkals,” sê hy. “Nou kan jy my maar opeet. Dis net jammer om so dorstig te sterwe. Ek was juis op pad rivier toe.”
“Nee, ons kan ‘n bietjie gaan drink,” sê Jakkals, wat hom heeltemal droëtong gehardloop het om die strik vir Hasie reg te kry. Hy pluk Hasie los van die voëllym af, gooi hom oor sy skouer en stap af na die drinkplek toe.
Ai, hoe stil en blink is die water nie. Jakkals laat sy kop sak om te drink. Maar kyk die ongeskik! Hierdie ander jakkals druk sommer sy snoet tussenin. “Gee pad!” brom Jakkals.
“Wat is dit nou, Jakkals?” vra Hasie agter sy skouer.
Kyk self,” sê Jakkals, en hy sit hom neer. En: “Staan soontoe!” sê hy vir die ander jakkals wat hom al weer beskou.
Hasie sien dadelik dat Jakkals met sy eie weerkaatsing baklei, maar hy sê niks nie.
“Loop weg hier!” sê Jakkals vir die derde maal, en hy wys tande, maar die waterjakkals wys terug.
Moenie so met jou laat speel nie!” roep Hasie. “Kyk hoe staan daardie ander dier se mond soos hy jou uitlag. Vat hom, Jakkals!”
Toe Jakkals gryp, gryp die ander jakkals ook. Toe Jakkals duik, is hulle doems! al twee binne in die water. Toe Jakkals verdwyn, is alles weg.
“Ha ha ha!” lag Hasie:
Kwaai is kwaai,
en kwaai se voet:
ou Jakkals soek
sy eie bloed!”
En toe Jakkals hangstert uit die water klim, sing Hasie al ver in die paadjie af.

Audio file: Vat hom Jakkals!

Antjie Somers

Die Mooiste Afrikaanse Sprokies
uitgesoek en oorvertel deur
PIETER W. GROBBELAAR

ANTJIE SOMERS
As paaiboelie het Antjie Somers geen gelyke in Afrikaans nie. “Oppas vir Antjie Somers. Hy sal jou in sy groot sak stop!” is ‘n dreigement wat baie geslagte kinders soet gehou het. “Hy“, ja, want Antjie Somers was natuurlik eintlik ‘n man. Hier volg een van die talle maniere waarop die verhaal vertel word.
Andries Somers was ‘n voorman onder die Strand se vissers. Wie kon soos hy ‘n treknet vasvat? Wie ‘n spaan met hom laat sak? Nee, niemand nie. En dapper! Waar iemand in gevaar gekom het, was Andries Somers eerste by. Nes ’n see-eend kon hy swem, en talle drenkelinge het hy land toe gebring as die ander al lankal moedverlore was.
Maar afguns is daar altyd, en skoorsoek is g’n kuns nie. Eendag op die strand pak ‘n klomp vissers hom. Andries laat nie met hom speel nie. Hulle kantel voor sy vuiste. Maar een bly te stil lê waar sy kop ‘n klip gevang het. Andries moet vlug, anders hang die mense hom dalk op. Hy kry ‘n sisrok van sy suster. Hy bind ‘n kopdoek om. Hy haak ‘n mandjie oor sy arm. Toe kies hy koers, diep na die binneland.
Op ‘n plaas agter die berge gaan verhuur hy hom. En hy werk weer soos net hy kan. Van die voordag staan hy bak tot dit laat word in die aand. Wingerd spit of pars of mis ry maak nie saak wat hulle doen nie. Andries Somers word die voorman op die plaas.
Maar die afguns het ore en ‘n storie baie tonge, en voor lank skinder die mense kliphard onder mekaar.
“Vertel ons,Andries, van die sisrok wat jy in jou huis wegbêre,” por die ene.
“En die kopdoek, Andries Somers ? Of is jou naam dalk eintlik Antjie?” pla ‘n ander.
Antjie Somers! Antjie Somers!” koggel hulle.
Andries Somers laat sy kop sak, en hy maak of hy nie hoor nie, want naderhand kom daar weer nuwe rusie. Maar die derde dag toe kan hy hul geterg nie meer verduur nie. Daardie aand pak hy sy bondel, en hy maak dat hy daar wegkom.
Nooit weer keer Andries terug nie. Nêrens slaan sy spoor weer uit nie. Hy het soos ‘n gees verdwyn.
Maar al meer vertel die kinders wat saans teen die berg gaan hout soek van ‘n ou vrou wat hulle verjaag.
“Sy het ‘n rooi kopdoek,” sê een kind.
Sy het ‘n sisrok met groot strepe.”
“Sy het ‘n lang mes.”
“En ‘n mandjie.”
“En ‘n streepsak oor haar skouer.”
“Sy wil ons vang en in haar sak prop!” kerm hulle.
En die grootmense skud kop. “Dit is daardie Antjie Somers,” sê hulle onder mekaar.
Andries Somers raak vergete: dapper Andries, flukse Andries, Andries wat altyd kon voorvat. Maar een storie word al luider en geslagte lank herhaal: “Antjie Somers! Antjie Somers, Antjie Somers gaan jou vang!”

Audio file: Antjie Somers

Source: http://www.logoslibrary.eu/pls/wordtc/new_wordtheque.w6_start.doc?code=196&lang=af
This next story….comes from this site…:
http://students.ou.edu/F/Christine.R.Frederiksen-1/Mythology%20Story%20Two.html

Once upon a time there was a Wolf and a Jackal walking down the road that led to town. As they were walking, they found a wagon on the side of the road. The Jackal and the Wolf decided to see what was in the barrels that were on the wagon. They couldn’t believe their eyes! It was butter.
So the Wolf and the Jackal sat there for a moment just looking at their discovery. They couldn’t figure out how to get those big barrels off the wagon and take them home. They talked about it and decided that the Wolf would go to the front of the wagon and play dead. Then when the farmer loaded his body in the wagon and drove off, he would quickly roll one of the barrels off the wagon. The Jackal would go hide in the tall grass and wait.
The farmer came back and saw the Wolf lying on the ground in front of the wagon. He took his donkey whip and whipped the Wolf a couple times to make sure that he was “dead”. He then picked up the Wolf and put him in the wagon.
(Their plan was really working. I bet that whip really hurt the wolf. Sometimes when people are naughty they get spankings. I one time got spanked with some bamboo. I will never be naughty again).
When the farmer started driving away, the Wolf pushed the barrel off the wagon and up ran the Jackal. He took the barrel to the side of the road. A few minutes later, the Wolf jumped off the wagon and made his way back to the barrel and the Jackal. The wolf couldn’t wait to dig into the butter. He was so hungry, but the Jackal insisted that they wait. He told that Wolf that fresh butter will make you die if you eat it. He told him that they would have to let it get ripe. The Wolf was so disappointed. They then made their way back home, excited about what they had found.
Well a few days later the wolf couldn’t keep his mind off the barrel of butter, so he ran to the Jackals house and asked, “is the butter was ripe yet?” The Jackal replied, “Umm, to tell you the truth, Wolf, my wife just had a baby. We named him Good Start. I am more worried about getting him baptized than I am about the butter. Why don’t you come back by in a couple of days and then we will check on the butter.” The wolf agreed and went on his way.
(Did you know that the Jackal was really in his house eating all the butter? His wife really didn’t have a baby).
A few days later the Wolf ran to the Jackal’s house. He was pounding on the door. The Jackal came running to see who it was. “Oh, Wolf, you scared me to death. I thought I was being robbed,” said the Jackal.
The Wolf replied, “I want to go check on the butter and I want you to come!” The Jackal snarled back, “Well, I have some bad news. My wife just gave birth to two more sons, so I am off to get them baptized. We named then First Hoop and Bottom of the Barrel.” The Wolf was even more mad and he was more hungry for the butter. The Jackal promised that tomorrow they could go get the butter.
That night the Wolf couldn’t sleep because he was so excited. The Jackal had been waiting for him when he got there. They ran to the barrel only to find that the butter was gone. The Jackal blamed the Wolf and the Wolf blamed the Jackal for eating all the butter and not sharing. They began to fight. The Wolf was much bigger than the Jackal and could win the fight easily. The Jackal screamed to stop the fight. He made a suggestion about how they could find out who ate the butter. He said, “We will both go lie on those rocks and take a nap. The sun will make us warm and we will sweat out the butter. When we awake from the nap we will see who has butter on him.” The Wolf that this was a great plan because he knew he hadn’t eaten any of the butter.
(Did you know that you really can’t sweat out butter?).
Well, the Jackal really didn’t sleep. He just lay there waiting for the Wolf to go to bed. He then ran over to put the rest of the butter on the Wolf’s body. A few minutes later the Wolf woke up and looked at the Jackal. They looked at each other and the Wolf had butter everywhere. The Wolf knew that he really hadn’t eaten any butter, but the Jackal insisted that he had. The melting butter around his mouth proved it. The Jackal was so mad they didn’t speak for days….The End.

Tyl Uilspieël Storie

Uilspieёl neem die dorp op horings

Op ‘n dag sê Tyl vir sy ma: “Ek gaan op ‘n tou loop soos hulle in die sirkus doen.”Wat makeer jou?” vra sy ma, verskrik .“Jy sal afval en jou nek breek.”

“Nee Ma, ek oefen lank reeds in die geheim op ons solder om op ‘n tou te loop. As ek dan ook boonop soos ‘n hanswors aantrek, en grappies maak, sal ek twee keer soveel geld maak.”

“En as jy afval?” vra sy ma benoud.

“Toemaar Ma, ek sal nie val nie, vir die veiligheid sal ons ‘n matras onder sit. Ek het reeds vir my maats belowe om môre vir hulle ‘n vertoning te lewer. Ek gaan ‘n tou bokant ons venster vasmaak, en dan weer oorkant die straat aan die bure se huis.”

“Ag Tyl, waarom is jy tog so stout?” sug sy ma, Maar hy steur hom nie aan haar nie. Hy het die tou gespan en daarop geklim.

As hy maar geweet het van die plan wat die bure in die mou gevoer het, het Tyl dit sekerlik nooit gewaag nie. Omdat hulle vir hom kwaad was oor die poets wat hy hulle vroeër gebak het, het hulle ‘n plan beraam om hom in eie munt terug te betaal.

Net toe Tyl op die tou op sy een been gaan staan en sy arms uitsteek om sy balans te behou, sny die bure se kinders skielik die tou af en daar tuimel hy neer. Gelukkig het hy op die matras geval, maar vir dae lank kon hy skaars sit of loop. Terwyl hy daar op die matras op sy rug lê, het hulle hom lekker uitgelag en gespot. Uilspieël het gemaak of hy hulle nie hoor nie, maar in die stilligheid het hy gedink: “Toemaar, ek sal julle terugkry.”

‘n Paar dae later kondig hy aan dat hy op die mark ‘n tweede vertoning gaan gee. Die dorp se mense is almal daar om die pret te aanskou. Uilspieël se vriende kom almal hand gee en sê met ‘n spotlaggie: “Ons hoop dat dit hierdie keer beter met jou sal gaan.”

“O, julle gaan verstom staan oor al die wonderlike toertjies wat ek vandag gaan uithaal,” belowe die voornemende koorddanser. “Maar voor ek begin, moet julle my help. As die toeskouers elkeen hul linkerskoene uittrek en vir my aangee, sal ek vandag sorg vir heerlike pret.”

Ewe onnosel voldoen die mense aan sy versoek en kort voor lank het Tyl ‘n hele klomp skoene bymekaar. Hy ryg hulle almal met ‘n tou aanmekaar en klim bo-op een van die hoë pale waaraan die tou vasgemaak is. Hy gaan sit op die paal en waai vrolik vir die mense.

“Toe nou,” skree die toeskouers ongeduldig. “Begin nou met jou grappies. Hoekom het ons dan ons skoene vir jou gegee?”

“O, ek wil hulle eers sit en bekyk,” skreeu Uilspieël bo van die paal af. “Hier is ou Ryk Soul se flentertoiings wat al seker honderd maal versool en gelap is. Dit is ‘n skande vir so ‘n ryk man. Hierdie blinkleer stewel behoort seker aan Fanie Fyntrap. Ek wonder of hy al ooit daarvoor betaal het.”

Een vir een bekyk hy die skoene soos ‘n bobbejaan. Die toeskouers word al kwater vir hom. Elkeen is doodbenoud dat sy skoen aan die beurt sal kom. “Ons was gekke om ons skoene vir die mannetjie te gee”, dink hulle.

Maar Tyl geniet homself gate uit. “Aan wie sou hierdie skeefgetrapte, slordige ou stewel behoort?” skreeu hy. “Tog nie aan Meester nie? Wat moet die skoolkinders van hom dink? En hierdie skoentjie met die fyn spitsneusie? Hoe sou Ellie Platvoet ooit haar breë platannas daarin kry?”

“Gee terug ons skoene!” skreeu die toeskouers woedend.

“Dê, vat julle toiings!” sê Uilspieël meteens, en hy laat die skoene soos reën op die mense val.

Almal koes en elkeen probeer weer om sy eie skoen in die hande te kry. Dit tel op en pas aan vir ‘n vale. Een ruk ‘n skoen uit die ander se hande. Hulle skel en raas en slaan onder mekaar dat die stof so staan. Die hele markplein is in rep en roer.

Maar wat doen Uilspieël? Hy sit daar bo-op die paal en hou sy maag vas soos hy lag. “’n Mooier konsert sou ek nooit kon gee nie!” skreeu hy. “Julle behoort my te betaal. Ek het lanklaas soveel pret gehad.”

Eers nadat almal terug is na hul huise, het Uilspieël vinnig van die paal afgeklim en die hasepad gekies na sy eie huis voordat die ander seuns hom in die hande kon kry.

Deur iets van die skoen te sê, het Uilspieël eintlik iets van die persoon gesê aan wie die skoen behoort. Stem julle saam dat ons haarstyle en kleredrag dinge van onsself verklap? [Source: cnx.org]

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English readers: you can find my translation of this first poem on “My Poems-gedigte” page on top of my blog. I hope you will enjoy it.

EENSAAMHEID – JAN F.E. CELLIERS
My vuurtjie en ek is op wag –
my vuurtjie en ek alleen;
die awend-ster
wink al van ver,
en die velde slaap omheen.

En stadigies sterwe die dag,
soos een in sy armoed verlaat,
ongesien, ongeag,
sonder suggie of lag,
waar niemand van weet of van praat.

Nou bly die lug alom
in stil aanbidding staan –
geen tampende bel
wat die ure tel:
net die sterre wat kom en gaan.

Die osse, met koppe gebuie,
herkoue nog stil in die nag,
tot één vir één buk
en gaan lê by sy juk,
met `n sug, ná die trek van die dag.

My vuurtjie is al wat nog leef
in die eindeloos ruim met my,
en sy stemmetjie dwaal
soos `n deuntjie wat draal
om dae lank verby,

om jonkheids blye môre
en laggies lank verlewe.
Dan voel ek `n traan
in my oë staan
en ek fluister: “Heer, vergewe!”

Die slapende velde lê wyd,
en wyer die donker see,
wat my vuurtjie en my
vanawend skei
van die wêreld se vreug en wee;

ek weet daar`s fees vanaand
in menig verligte saal,
maar geeneen wat my mis
by die dans en die dis –
`n balling vergeet en verdwaal.

Maar al is ek, ver van die skaar,
in eensaamheids wonings getrede,
ek voel my soos een
met die Heer alleen –
`n kind aan Sy boesem tevrede.

image: digitalcameraclub.co.za

I’ve read something this morning on Zee’s blog that reminded me about this poem : “Eensaamheid” by Jan F E Celliers I also came accross this poem on a  website and it also reminded me about this very same poem! “Eensaamheid” means…”loneliness…or…solitude…”

Ver op hoë berge
Pagina: 431/431

Ver op hoë berge, o-o-o…
Sit ek eensaam in die nag,
by my vuurtjie stil op wag,
ver op hoë berge.

‘k Denk nou kom my liefste, o-o-o…
k’ Sie van verre kom die wa,
die my liefste skat daar dra,
ver op hoë berge.

Droom is weer voorbij nou, o-o-o…
‘k Sit weer eensaam in die nag,
by my vuurtjie stil op wag,
ver op hoë berge.
http://www.carpegeel.be/lied.aspx?id=857

Read on WIKIPEDIA more about him.
Kliek 
HIER vir meer gedigte deur Celliers…
Enjoy the music of Sweet People …terwyl jy  “Eensaamheid” lees

On THIS LINK on my blog- you can read two poems of Jan FE Celliers.

Afrikaanse kindergedig!
Digter? Wie kan help?  Titel?
Daar stap ‘n klein mannetjie
In die rigting van die klotsende waterstroompie
Hy het ‘n emmer in sy handjie
En jy hoor net:die suisende windjie!

Hy stap, voete slepend
Hy stap, tande knersend
Hy draf, voete knarsend
Hy draf, hande swaaiend

Oppad hoor hy ‘n kwetterende voëltjie
Hy val skielik: kaplaks!
Daar lê hy onderstebo op die bruggie
“Ai”, sê hy, “dis seer”, vervlaks!

Nou loop ons klein ou mannetjie
Baie stadig, hy sien hy ‘n bobbejaan
Wat al blaffend en al strompelend
KADOEF! en PARDOEF!
Teen ‘n boomstomp kom gejaa’n

Die kabbellende rivierstroompie
Stroom al jubelend oor die klippies
Daarnaas is ‘n verdwaalde lam
Hy blêr! Ai tog! Dis ‘n ram!

Oppad terug stap die mannetjie
Met sy kleine, swaaiende kannetjie
Geluidloos deur die woud heen en weer
Wat het geword van die brullende
En krakende donderweer?

Ek weet! Die sissende slange
En kwakende padda
Het almal op skrik gejaag
KABOEM! Daar blits hy
SJADOEF! Daar flits hy

~~~~~~

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Image: allposters.com

I think dogs are wonderful animals and really your closest friend. We’ve had several breeds of dogs as pets in South Africa and I can’t make up my mind about the best breed, but I think, if I really have to choose a favourite, which is of course very difficult as I loved them all so much, then it should be Jackie…our last doggie, she was a cross between a fox terrier and a Jack Russel. She had some more Jack Russel “blood”  and ways of doing things/manners. We used to have a few foxterriers on the farm, so that’s why I know she had some little more JR-manners…but do take  a look at her on this pic! She was sooooooo cute!! and sooooo clever! She loved raisins and when I discovered that…very early after we’d rescued her from a plot, I taught her to stay, sit and paw in one night! It tookme about 30 min…and that’s really no joke!… – of course with the help of the raisins!! This little basket she’s in, was her favourite to chew for those baby teeth! and you can see how much  she loved to be in it! In this pic you can see that she spotted something and was looking at it…I think it was the hoopoe …as there was always one near the house…she never chased any bird/cat, but could sit and watch them for hours…she reminded me about the Afrikaans Chidrens’ story I’ve read to children in school, the book’s title is “Koningskind” and it was translated into English with the title  “Prince”…if you can get hold of this book..about an English Bull dog…written by Anita du Plessis, you should do so, as it is written from the dog’s point of view and you will laugh yourself into stitches when reading it! If I ever have to get another dog, it will surely  be a Jack Russel. When we got her as a pup, many people warned us, because of their behaviour. Maybe because she was a cross, she was more “well-behaved”…but I always say — and I think I’m right! – that pets are like your children. If you discipline them, they are lovely…but if not…well, you have to suffer the consequences then… and I’ve seen people on TV with their pets and they way their pets behave and if you look at the people, the way they speak and behave, well, then you know why they have all  those troubles with their pets! I can truly say that none of our pets had ever caused us any trouble of any kind. Give your pet the love they need and they will be those “dream” pets!


Jackie as a pup on the bed! her favourite spot to take a nap!

This pic is one I’ve found on the internet and this is what our foxie looked like when I was a child…Scotty…and we had one before him, Spotty! This is now a dog you can trust! Scotty used to spend hours with me in the mountains…on the farm…he used to LOVE it when we went for a jog during the evenings…he was going crazy and would run up and down the room when I was getting my trainers or “tekkies” like we use to say in Afrikaans.

greyfriars
Image: historic-scotland.gov.uk
Please click
HERE to read my post about Grey Friars Bobby and how he looked after his master, even after his death! There was also a movie about Bobby! Another book I couldn’t resist…but do read my post about this book…it’s worth reading about the history so many people – even in England – don’t know about!

Oor die boek: Koningskind…deur Anita du Plessis..
In hiedie verhaal wil Keiser, die naam van die hond, baie graag “goed bedoel” met als en hy probeer “help” waar hy kan, alhoewel hierdie “help” nie altyd positiewe gevolge het nie. Koos, die kat, het hom ‘n paar keer gekrap en Keiser ervaar dit as “steek met daardie drade”… wat dit skreeusnaaks laat klink…een hoofstuk wat ek baie amusant gevind het, was die hoofstuk oor “Kalkoene, katte en Kerk”.. Keiser het altyd vir die kalkoene gekyk en met die tyd het hulle groter geword, maar eendag het een uitgekom en hy het probeer “help” deur die kalkoen te vang… maar hy het ook geglo dis al sy “gekykery” wat hulle laat “groot” word het…dan die Kerk…daardie episode was ontsettend snaaks…die dominiee met sy “lappe” wat swaai as hy preek en Keiser wat die “gehuil” probeer stilmaak…wel, ek gaan niks meer sê, kry die boek en lees dit…kinderboek of te nie! Dit verryk jou siel! Ek het hierdie boek vir 9-11 jariges voorgelees met trane in my oë soos ek gelag het.. op party plekke kon ek nie eens lees nie, want soos ek vooruit sien wat ek moes lees, het ek myself ‘n papie gelag …natuurlik sit die kinders dan en giggel-giggel-lag-lag….maar weet nie waaroor nie…want ek het nog nie gelees wat so erg snaaks was nie…..hahaha…

“A book entitled “Koningskind” by Anita du Plessis won first prize in the “Daan Retief “children’s book competition. The book was also translated into English under the title Prince. It tells the story of how a bulldog pup joins a family as a gift to a little girl. Out of the 67 entries received the three judges agreed that his adventures, as told by himself, made for an unforgettable read.”..from… chakabulldog.co.za

 

red indian in the cupboard

The  Indian in the cupboard. – Afrikaans title: Die Rooihuid in die kassie

Synopsis
Three bestselling stories about Omri, and his friend Patrick, who turns his plastic Red Indian, Little Bull, into a real miniature person. The Indian in the Cupboard Who’d want a boring little plastic Red Indian as a birthday present? Omri doesn’t — until his brother gives him a very special cupboard which can make the Indian come alive…Return of the Indian Omri is unexpectedly reminded of his beloved Red Indian, and can’t resist making sure he’s still all right. But when he opens the cupboard door Little Bull is wounded, nearly dead, and Omri must find help. The Secret of the Indian Omri’s friend Patrick goes back in time to the Wild West, and keeping the secret safe becomes even more difficult for Omri…

Die verhaal van Omri is ook in Afrikaans verkrygbaar en as jy kinders het wat lief is vir lees, ouderdom 8-11/12…dan moet jy vir jou “Die Rooihuid in die kassie” kry…deur LR Banks. Daar het sowat ‘n paar jaar gelede ‘n film gedraai met die Engelse titel, ek weet nie wie van julle het die film gaan sien nie. Ek het NIE, want my ondervinding met die films is dat dit terleurstellend is, die boeke is gewoonlik baie snaakser. My kinders het dit gesien en dit was wat hulle bevestig het. Dieselfde het gebeur met “Skaapvark” – “Sheep pig”.. ek het die boek vir kinders voorgelees laaaa…nk voor die film en ek was vreeslik terleurgesteld toe ek die film sien. Daarna het ek weggebly van films as ek reeds die boek gelees het. “Skaapvark” is baie snaakser as die Engelse boek ook. In hierdie boek, “Die Rooihuid in die kassie”, kry Omri ‘n “charm” as ‘n geskenk by ‘n maat en ontdek ‘n kassie waarin hy dit kon sit. Sy broer kry ‘n sleuteltjie wat toevallig hierdie kassie oop-en-toe kon sluit…en dit is daar waar die pret begin! Kry die boek en lees homself! – as jy nog die film gesien het nie, moenie!! kry eerder die boek…

On THIS LINK – on my blog – you can read about other childrens’ books I’ve blogged before  and books written by Dalene Matthee…her books translated into English and her target group  is more the adult audience …

where-the-wild-things-are

Please click HERE to listen to the BBC program about “Where the wild things are”.

This book is really a MUST-have if you have little children…and I’ve bought it myself again…here in London…as I can’t resist a good book, even if it’s chidren’s books…which any teacher can’t go without…if you teach primary…

Who the Wild Things Are (30 min)
Broadcast on Radio 4 Tue 24 Jun – 11:30

Philip Glassborow explores the origins of Maurice Sendak’s classic children’s book Where the Wild Things Are. Featuring readings by Henry Goodman and Jewish Klezmer music.
Click
HERE  for program the program information.

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English readers, please slide down…

My smekende gedagtes

Ek sak my hoof en oordink my vreugde
Ligsinnig verkrummel ek
die verdroogde blare
in my Afrika hand en ‘k laat
dit waai soos kaf in die wind
Dit smee my gedagtes mee
met die onrus in my hart
wat bly groei en bloei
Waarom verpletter ons die volke
van hierdie aarde?
Waar’s die regeerders
van hierdie wêreld?
Ken hul nie Sy toorn?
Offers bring en oë opslaan
uitroepe van “wees ons goedgesind!”
weerklink in my smekende gedagtes
Sal ons ooit die Tempel binnegaan?
Ek luister na my gedagtes in die mÔre
en laat die moordenaars en leuenaars
deur Hades swerwend dryf
hul ontmoet die gelag van Charon op Styx
Nooit sal hul die Elisiese veld bereik
NÓg betowerend; nÓg kan in delf
Hul egosentriese voorland:
Tanatos!
Sál hul ag slaan op my geroep?

©Nikita 5 Julie 2008


Please click here for the RIVER STYX and have fun!

This poem…which I feel is basically just a few of my thoughts of how I feel about -not only about these killings/stabbings in London,-  but also about other parts of the world, especially South Africa…Zimbabwe…the lies of Mugabe and his scum…. and other leaders in this world…my thoughts make them rambling/drifting along the river Styx, not to reach the Elysian fields, but Thanatos! By this poem I don’t want those people to really die! as I think all people are good, but not what they do/say and then I ask  too…where are the leaders of this world!!…maybe the real leaders…and not the cowards.. Why are they not acting like they should, tighten the laws! and world leaders should take the lead in those Africa countries where there are chaos and where people are dying on a daily basis! Are we not suppose to care! So, co’mon “caring” leaders… show you really care! …PS: glad to see David Miliband – with his visit to South Africa – is asking the International Community to do something…but, hey…when are we going to see them reacting!

Hierdie getal het my koue rillings gegee toe ek dit vanaand sien…….net gedag dit pas by hierdie onaardse images hier…hehehe….dis nou vanaf Nov 2007…



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Image: by Julie Rogers…Woven thoughts

Die strelende skemer van my gemoed

Vanselfsprekend dartel
jou skadu’tjie
langsaam, ritsellend
soos ‘n vlokkie
eind’lose skaterlag
vibrerend in my gemoed
en die weerspieëling
is onvermydelik verstrengel
tussen Haydn en Wagner
en die draaikolk
van my gryse gedagtes
wat in die
strelende skemer
van my gemoed bly vloei
©Nikita
29 Junie 2008

The soothing twilight of my mind
Self-evidently frolic and sprightly
Your little shadow
gradually quivering
– as a flakelet
endless peals of laughter
vibrating in my mind
and the reflection
is inevitably intertwined
between Haydn and Wagner
and the whirlpool
of my ancient thoughts
flowing
through the soothing twilight
of my mind
–Translated: Nikita – 16/2/2012

[For a friend to understand the Afrikaans]

This poem is just a poem about my thoughts going back to South Africa and my childhood days – also on the farm where I grew up. My country and its people will always be in my thoughts!

Please click HERE to read the book Thought-Forms by: Annie Besant and C.W. Leadbeater on the site of the Gutenberg-project. In this book you will read about colour and thoughts.

Enjoy the music of Haydn…Piano concerto in D major – one of my favourites!


Haydn by Thomas Hardy
Source: wikimedia
Franz Joseph Haydn ==March 31, 1732 – May 31, 1809== was one of the most prominent composers of the classical period, and is called by some the “Father of the Symphony” and “Father of the String Quartet”.

A life-long resident of Austria, Haydn spent most of his career as a court musician for the wealthy Hungarian Esterházy family on their remote estate. Isolated from other composers and trends in music until the later part of his long life, he was, as he put it, “forced to become original”.

Joseph Haydn was the brother of Michael Haydn, himself a highly regarded composer, and Johann Evangelist Haydn, a tenor.




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Die Broosheid van my Siel

Dit is soos gister
dat my gedagtes swerf
op golwe van stormwinde;
ongesiens, verwyder dit
die eind’lose groenbedekte
ystergrendels van my hart

Verstommend genereer dit
beelde uit lande
versamel van die Ooste en Weste
die Noorde en van die see af
– ‘n half herwonne reis

Diep onder lê ‘n sluimerende stilte
ontsnapte krete reën om my
helder buitelyne van donker oë
kruis my lewenspad
en ek huiwer

Hunkerend na ‘n somers-motreën
blomruigtes, onweerstaanbare weerligstrale
waterfonteine, ‘n ontnugterde haelbui
Vind jy my siel op haelwit wolke

Ja, soos gister
stap ek deur die Dorsland
met lofoffers
en êrens omhels die broosheid
die gedagtes van my siel.

©Nikita 18 Junie 2008

Die verlange na Suid-Afrika bly daar vir enige persoon in die buiteland. Iemand moet nie vir my vertel dat hy die stof van sy voete afgeskud het en nou “klaar” is met SA nie, daardie persoon bluf homself, beslis nie vir my nie. Vanaand was ek – soos baie ander tye – weer hart en siel in Suid-Afrika…geniet hierdie stukkie “gedagtes” of herinneringe wat ek hier saamgeflans het…en geniet dit met die musiek van Hilary Stagg…






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I’ve got this CD of Hilary Stagg…beautiful music…enjoy this track and do get yourself this CD!!

This is an Afrikaans poem, just my thoughts about life as a child…

Indien jy ooit by die Opelug Museum in Pretoria ‘n draai maak, maak gerus ‘n draai by die Watermeule. Hierdie watermeule het op ons plaas gestaan en is hy klip-vir-klip gemerk en net so herbou in Pretoria. As kind van ongeveer 7/8 jaar oud, het ons gedurig op die wiel gespeel en was dit ‘n heerlike wegkruipplek vir die kat om haar kleintjies te kry!! Daarom dat my gedagtes ook in hierdie gegriffel ‘n draai gaan maak het op die watermeul se wiel! Ek kon vir ure die miskuiers volg wat in veld hulle bolletjies gerol het…wanneer ek gaan stap het om verdroogde stukkies takkies te versamel en grassade vir my versameling wat ek gedurig in my kamer uitgestal het…die gedrooge takkies…spesiale mooi uitgesoektes natuurlik, het ek in gebruik in rangskikkings en was my kamer omtrent ‘n “nes” van alles wat ek van die veld aangedra het. Selfs verdwaalde tarentaal-vere het hul ere-plekkie gehad…en hoe kon ek die karretjies uitlaat, dit het ek meer gespeel as met my poppe wat altyd net op my bed gelê vir die mooiheid…

Baie dankie aan Francois vdM wat vandag [18/6/2011] hierdie pragtige foto van my geliefde waterval op ons familieplaas – waar ek ure kon sit en ontspan, rondklouter en saam met familie/vriende geniet het, aangestuur het. Francois bly ook in die omgewing en ken dit ook alte goed. In die volgende gedig lees jy juis van die waterval!

Suid-Afrika – my skaduwee

In die skadu’s
van die groot ou Eik
stoot ek weer in die sand
Boeta se karretjies een-vir-een
‘is verstommend hoe die mierleeus uit hul tonnels
krioel met kierang-hier en kierang-daar

Langs die waterval
sit ek, halfbewus
my gedagtes vind perspektiwiteit
en rol ragfyn ligstraaltjies voor my uit
op die kabbellende water

Op die meulwiel van vervloë
versamel ek babakatjies
pas gebo’, versteek
teen elemente daar buit’
en ek streel die sagtheid
wat ek koester
verder op my reis

Ek verdwaal tussen rante
soekend na onweerstaanbare
toktokkies en miskruiers
‘k neem ‘n honger teug
uit die kom van fluisteringe
“ons-vir-jou-ons-vir-jou”

Hoe sal ek jou kan vergeet
jou alledaagse ontwykende
en eindlose horison
onwetend
bly jy daar vir my
en ek vir jou
Hoe kán ek dan
Vergeet van: “ons-vir-jou”…?

©Nikita 17 Junie 2008

waterfall

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Image:eso-garden.com

This song is one of my favourites, sung by Laurika Rauch, also one of my favourite South African artists. Laurika is a legend in South Africa and many South Africans love her for her music…and I’m definitely one of them. If you click on the page-link that says…”don’t miss this song”, you can listen to her singing another song together with Valiant Swart…and I’ve translated that song for you to understand the song that’s about a sun catcher… This song is about her as a young girl, where she says she used to believe in Santa ….she saw Santa walking through the corn fields one day and her brother asked if Santa was from Clocolan….then one day  she saw Santa’s suit…and she realised that he wasn’t real…all her dreams were scattered… she also sings about girls having dreams about their future partners and she wrote a letter to Santa …describing him her dream partner…


WOW! This image is from THIS SITE where you can see more fantastic breathtaking images! This is the road to Clocolan…the small town Laurika mentions in her song…in her song her little brother asks her if Santa was from Clocolan…
 

EK HET IN MY KINDERJARE VAS GEGLO IN KERSFEESVADER
IN WERKLIKHEID RY HY MOS MET ‘N SLEE
MAAR HIER STAP HY DEUR DIE MIELIES, MET ‘N STREEPSAK
EN ‘N KIERIE
EN MY BOETIE VRA, “BOER HY BY CLOCOLAN?”
KOOR:
WAAR IS JOU RENDIER EN SILWER SPORE?
WAAR IS ONS DROME VAN GISTERAAND?
VLIEG OOR DIE BOME MET MY DROME
KYK HOE GLINSTER DIE MAAN

DIE WINDE VAN DIE WINTER HET MY KINDERHART ONTNUGTER
EK EN BOETIE KRY ‘N ROOI JAS IN DIE LAAI
JONK VAN JARE, OUD VAN DAE, HUIL EK HARTSEER
IN MY KAMER
WANT DIE FANTASIE HET SOOS ‘N DROOM VERDWYN

KOOR

IN ‘N BRIEF VAN LATER JARE, SKRYF EK “LIEWE KERSFEESVADER
ELKE MEISIE HET ‘N SPESIALE WENS
VIR ‘N MAN SO SOET SOOS SUIKER, MET ‘N MOTOR SONDER DUIKE
EN SOEN HY JOU DINK JY DIS NET ‘N DROOM”

KOOR

EK STAP TOE OP ‘N AAND LAAT, MET ‘N KÊREL UIT DIE VRYSTAAT
AL BESTUUR HY ‘N OU BAKKIE, SÊ EK “KERSFEESVADER, DANKIE!”
WANT AL SY SOENE IS SOOS SUIKER, EN IN SY HANDE ‘N DIAMANT
VLIEG OOR DIE BOME MET MY DROME
KYK HOE GLINSTER DIE MAAN

HIER’S ONS KINDERS OM DIE BOOMPIE, HULLE WAG NOU VIR DIE OOMPIE
MY DOGTERTJIE IS NET ‘N BIETJIE BANG
MAAR HY STAP SOMMER UIT DIE BRANDERS, JA DIE TYE HET VERANDER
MY SEUNTJIE VRA, “WOON HY IN JEFFRIESBAAI?”

KOOR
Read what Wipneus says in her post about “dreams” HERE , but it’s an entry in Afrikaans. The link will open in a new window.

Image:Childrenshospital.org

On THIS LINK you can read about dreams….The link will open in a new window.

From the book “Dreams”…by Olive Schreiner…

 And God laughed at me; and I wondered why he laughed.

God said, “Come, and I will show you Heaven.”

And partly I awoke. It was still and dark; the sound of the carriages had
died in the street; the woman who laughed was gone; and the policeman’s
tread was heard no more. In the dark it seemed as if a great hand lay upon
my heart, and crushed it. I tried to breathe and tossed from side to side;
and then again I fell asleep, and dreamed.

God took me to the edge of that world. It ended. I looked down. The
gulf, it seemed to me, was fathomless, and then I saw two bridges crossing
it that both sloped upwards.

I said to God, “Is there no other way by which men cross it?”

God said, “One; it rises far from here and slopes straight upwards.

I asked God what the bridges’ names were.

God said, “What matter for the names? Call them the Good, the True, the
Beautiful, if you will–you will yet not understand them.”

Please click HERE to read the entire book …”Dreams” online written by a South African writer…Olive Schreiner….the link will open in a new window….and on THIS LINK  you can read more about her…the link will open in a new window.

Image:http://zar.co.za/schreiner.htm
other works of Olive include:


The Story of an African Farm as Ralph Iron, 1883
Dreams, 1890
Dream Life and Real Life, 1893
The Political Situation (with S C Cronwright-Schreiner), 1896
Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland, 1897
An English South African’s View of the Situation, 1899
Women and Labour, 1911
Stories, Dreams and Allegories, 1923
From Man To Man, 1926
Undine, 1928

 

Olive Schreiner rose to international fame as the first major South African writer of fiction, as an eloquent advocate of feminism, socialism, pacifism and free thought, as a trenchant critic of British imperialism and racism. Perhaps best known for her novel ‘The Story of an African Farm’, Schreiner wrote political and social treatises as well as allegories and short stories.

She was born into a poor family of a Boer father and English mother, the ninth of 12 children. She lived a life of incredible hardship: her father was a missionary of implacable religious zeal and her mother aggressively attempted to maintain a European sensibility as the family nomadically wandered from mission to mission throughout the Transvaal. Schreiner was self-educated; her early influences included the philosophers Herbert Spencer and John Stuart Mill, and the naturalist Charles Darwin.”..read on the link I’ve given about her…more…

On THIS LINK you can visit the site of the movie based on her book…”The Story of an African farm”…
The link will open in a new window.

by Gustavus Hindman Miller.
Fireside; 1st Fireside Ed edition, 1985 | 592 pages | PDF | 1.4MB 
Click on the link to download the dictionary of dreams…the link will open in a new window.
the_dictionary_of_dreams_10_000_dreams_interpreted


 
What do you believe about dreams….read this interesting article if you want to dream like an Egyptian! I’ve got a Dutch dream book…more like a dictionary, but quite old…unfortunately packed away in SA…would love to have it so I could blog it..it was always interesting to read what they say if you dream about something, what it means… it has happened to me twice that I dream about people and funerals..then it was when there was really going to be a funeral in the family! The first time it happened was when I was a student…and a couple of days later, my beloved grandma died! After the second time, I really believe that there is some meaning we can attach to dreams!

 

Image: eso-garden.com

DREAMING LIKE AN EGYPTIAN

by Robert Moss

The ancient Egyptians understood that in dreams, our eyes are opened. Their word for dream, rswt, is etymologically connected to the root meaning “to be awake”. It was written with a symbol representing an open eye.

The Egyptians believed that the gods speak to us in dreams. As the Bible story of Joseph and Pharaoh reminds us, they paid close attention to dream messages about the possible future. They practiced dream incubation for guidance and healing at temples and sacred sites. They understood that by recalling and working with dreams, we develop the art of memory, tapping into knowledge that belonged to us before we entered this life journey, and awakening to our connection with other life experiences.

The Egyptians also developed an advanced practice of conscious dream travel.

Trained dreamers operated as seers, remote viewers and telepaths, advising on affairs of state and military strategy and providing a mental communications network between far-flung temples and administrative centers.

They practiced shapeshifting, crossing time and space in the dreambodies of birds and animals.

Through conscious dream travel, ancient Egypt’s “frequent flyers” explored the roads of the afterlife and the multidimensional universe. It was understood that true initiation and transformation takes place in a deeper reality accessible through the dream journey beyond the body.
Please click on
THIS LINK to read the entire article. The link will open in a new window.

 DO BABIES DREAM?

Babies dream, says Dr. Charles P. Pollak, director of the Center for Sleep Medicine at NewYork-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell hospital in the New York Times.

In what seems like a rather gutless attempt to explain why he thinks babies dream, Dr. Pollack says, babies sleep because babies experience REM sleep (I have experienced REM sleep, too, any time you put in one of their last five albums). Because infants have REM sleep, Dr. Pollack says, “It is a well-based inference that babies are dreaming in REM sleep.”
Click HERE to read about babies’ dreams…The link will open in a new window.

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blog.seniorennet. be / ida

Heb elkaar lief
en als dat niet gaat,
laat dan tenminste de ander
in zijn recht !

J. Wolfgang von Goethe

I came across this site-link where senior people are active and blog about what they want to blog…and I found this site quite cute…Ida has got some quotes, poems etc on her blog and of course… I love reading it! I love reading anything in Afrikaans..of course!!! but then also Dutch and Flemish. On the chess site I always like the Dutch players to write me messages in their language as I love to learn more about the language. I have in particular three Dutch players always writing only in Dutch. One of them has asked me to write in Afrikaans as he wants to learn more about Afrikaans…and he was quite surprised in the beginning to know that the two languages are very much the same and that he could understand the messages 100%. He gave me a Dutch dictionary-link…“Vandale”…but must say… only used it for one word so far and even he had to explain it more in detail as the dictionary didn’t “recognise” it…lol… one word that was “new” to me in Dutch…was the word “doei”…which means…- in slang – bye…My grandad – on my mum’s side – is from Holland and I would like to go one day and visit his place of birth, which is in the North Brabant Province in Holland. If you want to learn the Dutch language or the Afrikaans language…there are links on the blog roll that says..”Educational blogs”.

Afrikaans is an Indo-European language, derived from Dutch and classified as Low Franconian Germanic. Read on THIS LINK more about it…and at the bottom of THIS LINK you can see vocabulary comparison-table…where about 20 words from 20 different languages in this family-group – including English – are compared.

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I’m not in a good mood… so, don’t expect me to be goodie-goodie today…I’m furious when it comes to people like the Montys of this world…and I know there are many of them…please, don’t be a Monty! Last night…or should I rather say…early this morning…1:35am… I turned the tele on…and was just in time to follow the last 2-3 minutes of this program on BBC 1…and Monty was in South Africa…wow! how “dare” he go there…it’s such a “dangerous” place…!! wonder if he had taken a private guard with him…. he used a word/phrase that immediately upset me… “the horrors of the apartheids-era”. He also said: “…because of those horrors… I didn’t want to go there, but when I arrived here, I was glad I came” … and I thought by myself, poor man!! what a narrowminded soul….Why are people so misinformed about “Apartheid”…ok…I don’t say everything was ok, as in every other country…things were also NOT ok! Take Australia with the Aborogines…even England started with news readers from other ethnic groups only about a year or two ago! What about America with their racism-issues in the 60’s! Look at more countries…SA was only a minor when you look at all those other countries, but it was easy to blow things up to take the attention away from them!! PS: All links in this post will open in a new window.

One of our best leaders…Dr Hendrik Verwoerd had decided it’s good for different black culture groups to have their own countries and to rule themselves…but the world called his vision “apartheid”… ..in a place like London…you get Turkish people in some areas…Somalians living mainly in another…Africans in a certain area….etc etc…Chinese in this..Polish in that part… and they reason it’s better for the different “culture groups” to be together in a particular area…..to find friendship amongst “their own” and to settle in the community…..and you get that in the USA/Canada too… certain areas were/are  allocated for certain groups…to settle in……In South Africa some people were less tolerant than other people…but there wasn’t “horrors” around every corner…and please, not ALL people were racists!! And, if you think it was only some Afrikaans speaking people that were “racists”….you make a big, big mistake…racists are amongst every language group in any country… I know more English speaking racists – even here in the UK …than Afrikaans speaking so-called “racists”. Full Stop!  How unintelligent is it to reason like that!! You get racism all over the world!! Some cases even worse than in SA! wow, if I have to start telling you how much racism I’ve seen/heard here in London…then I have to say that people in London are less tolerant towards other races than people in SA during “those” years or even today! We in South Africa lived in harmony and peace…(there wasn’t even ONE single gun shot in 1994!!) We lived in more peace than even today… believe it or not.. I lived there…all my live…I grew up on a farm… since my fifth birthday… I had black children as my BEST friends on the farm…Sannie is on my blog… she was one of them, she died recently and my mum and sisters went to her funeral on that very same farm! We used to love one another like brother/sister… Monty spoke in general as if SA is this country FULL of horrors…around each and every corner… hey… we are a peaceful nation…surely you – Monty – haven’t met South Africans here in the UK? You haven’t spoken to anyone… wake up Monty… widen your views… you should travel more to South Africa, meet more South Africans to get behind the real story…don’t read books/newspapers…they all blew up the stories about the past..to support certain groups…and hopefully your teachers were more informed too?? I guess not…… and those people who supported certain groups in the past.. you didn’t have a cooking clue what SA was really like… you just toi-toi with the others …like a lot of sheep…narrowminded/closeminded….you, reading here, did you also toi-toi on Trafalgar Square in 1980 when Mugabe was put in charge in Zimbabwe? and now?… No, don’t pull up your shoulders…and Monty…I’ve got a link for you…click HERE to see what horrors are taking place at the MOMENT in South Africa…this is far worse than the “horrors” you are referring to…wonder if you’ve seen any of it during your visit…no, you won’t, because it doesn’t get published! You won’t see it on TV either…all I ask you, Monty…don’t judge South Africa and South Africans…we are people like you…and most other people in the world…it’s only the small minority that was really racists…like in the UK too…and in the US and everywhere else…yes, I work with British people and we have conversations and from that…I can tell you the truth…I know Monty won’t read here…but this is also for all the “other Montys” reading here too…I play chess online against all sorts of people all over the world and I have play a lot of Americans…racists…and they say it to you as if there’s nothing wrong being a racist.
The following comes from the BBC’s site…about the program..
Around the World in 80 Gardens
Mon 7 Apr, 12:40 am – 1:40 am 60mins

South Africa

Monty Don continues his extraordinary journey Around the World in 80 Gardens with a journey to South Africa, one of the most plant-rich zones in the world.

At Cape Town’s world-famous Kirstenbosch Botanic Gardens he revels in the impressive display of native flora, including the strange King Proteus, South Africa’s national plant before taking a journey to the Drakensberg Mountains to see some native botanical treasures in their natural environment. Along the way, he traces the garden-story of the Dutch colonists who settled in the nineteenth century and looks at what some of South Africa’s gardeners are doing today.

Monty’s discoveries leave him excited to find that South Africa is forging a new identity for itself through a fresh appreciation of its environmental wonders.

Source: Click HERE to read about his program.

Update: News about Africa… and I’m wondering… wonder if you wonder about the same thing….read this article and see if you can work out about what I’m wondering.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7852086.stm

This next song on the Youtube video is sung by Machiel Roets. One night I listened to a radio station and he was interviewed and asked a question..it’s about 2 years ago and I can’t even remember the radio station nor the question! but anyway…I sent the answer by email and was lucky to be one of the winners and received his cd…called “Afrika Kind”.. this song is on the cd and I translated it quickly so you can follow the words and see what a beautiful song it is. It’s just to give you an idea what it’s about. On the video there’s some beautiful images to see of South Africa. — enjoy… and if you want to go to South Africa…DON’T be a Monty…go there!! you will NOT regret it…just follow the rules of every country…don’t walk the streets at night, don’t go to “dark” places at night… be aware what’s going on around you…those kind of rules are the basic for any country…a bit common sense..hey..like in every other country.

As I’ve said before… I’m no translater… but do like to translate good poetry/songs so that English visitors can also enjoy the good/brilliant Afrikaans poetry/songs…

Child of Africa

Come take my hand
through this country of hardship
come let’s laugh
’bout the day of tomorrow
walk with me
through this wetland-region
hear the song
nature poured over you

Chorus:
‘ts here where the wind speaks to you
by the rhythm of the earth
and water that flows
and soothes you
suddenly there’s a voice that says
You’re my child!

Come take my hand
here in sunshine land
let’s carry together
what’s going on around us
walk hand-by-hand
here on Africa soil
come breathe the air
that soothes your soul

Chorus
It’s here where the wind speaks to you
by the rhythm of the earth
and water that flows
that soothes you
suddenly there’s a voice that says
You’re my child!
Repeat chorus again..
You’re my child!(2x)
My African child.

 Translated by: nikita (c)

Afrikakind 001

Another video about South Africa….enjoy…..
also for the Montys of this world!

 

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You can listen to a snippet from his song…”Liefling”. This song was a big hit for many, many years in South Africa and I do believe that many South Africans still love this song! It’s a love song.
 

My old time favourite…Ge Korsten…. opera tenor singer… …enjoy the video!! Singing Afrikaans, but worth listening to Ge’s beautiful voice! ….join in with him…….hey! sing with me a song of life…I’ve now translated the song…further down in this post…hope you enjoy it!

This song is mainly about life…children….what they do….young people….what they do and enjoy….and older people….he sings about how you can enjoy life…then you get older…and older people are getting older… older people ….being grandparents……. he sings about the things in life you should enjoy……and how fast the time goes…. and he’s asking us to sing this song about life with him…and he wants to sing about young and old….he sings about the memories….of life…on this video you can enjoy beautiful images of Cape Town….

Lied van die lewe
Om jonk te wees bring lekker dae
Die son skyn dan op elke dag
Die kinders skaats en ry fiets in die strate
Jongmense luister na nuwe plate
Niemand dink aan die tyd wat verby gaan
en dat die lewe net nie stil sal staan. (2x)

Koor:
Sing met my ‘n lied van die lewe
Sing met my van jonk en oud
Die lewe gee soveel mooier dae
maar dikwels gaan dit so gou verby (2x)
Ja, dikwels gaan dit so gou verby.

 Maar die lewe sal nooit stilstaan
Dae kom en dae gaan
Die jonges trou en gaan op hul eie
Nou kom daar soms sware tye
Almal werk net vir die hede
Ure, maande en jare vlieg soos die wind verby (2x)

Herhaal Koor

Die oues word dan ook weer ouer
Hul word dan oupa en oumama
Dae word dan vinnig korter
Langsaam gaan die son dan onder
Herinneringe laat ons oor die lewe wonder
Lewe van mooi en troebel dae
staan einde toe (2x)

Herhaal Koor

Song translated: I tried my best and do hope you enjoy it….

Song of life

To be young brings blissful days
The sun shines ‘bout every day
The children in the streets skate and do bike riding
Youngsters listen to new music
Nobody thinks about time flying by
And that life is moving on
And that life is moving on

Chorus:

Sing with me a song of life
Sing with me ‘bout young and old
Life gives so much back to us
But often days go flying by
Sing with me a song of life
Sing with me ’bout young and old
Life gives so much back to us
But often days go flying by
Yes, quite often the days fly so soon

But life is never ever static
Days come and days go
Young people get married and live their lives
Now come even tougher times
Everybody works as for now and here
Hours, weeks, months and years fly like the wind
Yes, hours, weeks, months and years fly like the wind 

Chorus:

Sing with me a song of life
Sing with me ‘bout young and old
Life gives so much back to us
But often days go flying by
Sing with me a song of life
Sing with me ’bout young and old
Life gives so much back to us
But often days go flying by
Yes, quite often the days fly so soon

The older get much older too
They become grandpa and grandmamma
Days grow shorter very quickly
Slowly the sun goes down
Memories make us wonder ‘bout life
Beautiful and harder days
Near its end
Beautiful and harder days
Near its end

Chorus:

Sing with me a song of life
Sing with me ‘bout young and old
Life gives so much back to us
But often days go flying by
Sing with me a song of life
Sing with me ’bout young and old
Life gives so much back to us
But often days go flying by
Yes, quite often the days fly so soon

translated by: Nikita

 Born in Rotterdam, The Netherlands as the youngest of eight children, Korsten and his family emigrated to South Africa when he was nine years old. He married Elna Burger and had five children. Career
Initially he worked as an electrician, but from the age of 20, started singing in choirs, some of which were televised frequently by the SABC. However, he received his first formal vocal training in 1952, when he was well into his 20s, studying under Adelheid Armhold at the South African College of Music.In 1955 he moved to Pretoria, where he was one of the founder members of the Pretoria opera company. In 1956, he debuted as Canio in Ruggero Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci.Korsten won a bursary to study in Vienna in 1962, where he received tution under Judith Hellwig. During this period he had the opportunity to perform in Vienna and Munich, but he never sang professionally outside South Africa, mainly due to family considerations. It was only in 1970 that Korsten sold his business to devote himself to full-time singing. In the course of his operatic career, Korsten appeared on stage more than 3,000 times, playing 23 roles in most of the major operas.
In 1965, Korsten started his career in light music, with his album “Gé Korsten Sing Uit Die Hart” (“Gé Korsten Sings From The Heart” ), and soon became a best-selling recording artist, with a career spanning 40 years. Nine of his 58 albums achieved gold status. Most of his recorded work is light Afrikaans music, including the song “Liefling” (Sweetheart), which is still performed at rugby matches in Bloemfontein and Pretoria. His popularity as a singer also lead to lead roles in films such as Hoor My Lied (Hear My Song), Lied In My Hart (Song In My Heart) and A New Life, all of which included singing scenes. He received six Sarie awards and, in 1979, an ARTES award for his TV program “Gé Sing” (“Gé Sings”).In his later life, Korsten was well-known for his role as family patriarch Walt Vorster in the long-running South African soap opera Egoli: Place of Gold.

In 1985 he was appointed as the managing director of the Cape Performing Arts Board (CAPAB) in Cape Town, a post which he held until 1989.
In 1999, while presumably suffering from cancer, he committed suicide.
Wiki link
HERE ..


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ISBN:0798139021
Herman Charles Bosman
Publisher:Human & Rousseau

 We read this book during secondary school and I loved these stories of “Oom Schalk Lourens”…”oom” means “uncle”… I think I should get myself this book again! I know I have one…packed away…very old copy…my dad used to go around at bookshops…when he was young…think I take after him in that way…lol! 

Herman Charles Bosman was one of South Africa’s best (yeah, I know I always call the story writers and poets the “best”…because I try to focus on the best if not the “very” best! lol)… classical story writers….read on Wiki about him… see you later…

Herman Charles Bosman (February 3, 1905 – October 14, 1951) is the South African writer widely regarded as South Africa’s greatest short story writer. He studied the works of Edgar Alan Poe and Mark Twain, and developed a style emphasizing the use of irony. His English-language works utilize primarily Afrikaner characters and point to the many contradictions of Afrikaner society in the first half of the twentieth century.

Bosman was born at Kuilsrivier, near Cape Town to an Afrikaner family, although he was raised with English as well as Afrikaans. While Bosman was still young, his family moved to Johannesburg where he went to school at Jeppe High School for Boys in Kensington. He was a contributor to the school magazine. When Bosman was sixteen, he started writing short stories for the national Sunday newspaper (the Sunday Times). He attended the University of the Witwatersrand submitting various pieces to student’s literary competitions.

Upon graduating, he accepted a teaching position in the Groot Marico district, in an Afrikaans language school. The area and the people inspired him and provided the background for all his best known short stories; the Oom Schalk Lourens series and the Voorkamer sketches. The Oom Schalk Lourens series features an older character with that name. the Voorkamer series are similarly all set in the Marico region.

During the school holidays in 1926, he returned to visit his family in Johannesburg. During an argument, he fired a rifle at his stepbrother and killed him.

Bosman was sentenced to death and moved to Death row at the Pretoria Central Prison. He was reprieved and sentenced to ten years with hard labour. In 1930, he was released on parole after serving half his sentence. His experiences formed the basis for his semi-autobiographical book, Cold Stone Jug.

He then started his own printing press company and was part of a literary set in Johannesburg, associating with poets, journalists and writers, including Aegidius Jean Blignaut. Needing a break, he then toured overseas for nine years, spending most of his time in London. The short stories that he wrote during this period formed the basis for another of his best-known books, Mafeking Road.

At the start of the Second World War, he returned to South Africa and worked as a journalist. He found the time to translate the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam into Afrikaans.
Read
HERE on Wikipedia…more about him…

Herman Charles Bosman’s best-loved stories about the Marico District are published here for the first time in the form intended by the author. This text of Mafeking Road – edited by Craig MacKenzie – is the first to appear from the original versions, with an introduction and notes on the texts.

Bosman’s storyteller figure Oom Schalk Lourens takes us into the world of the concertina-player who leaves the Marico for fame and glory; the girl who returns from finishing school to dazzle and dupe the Marico yokels; the Boer War soldier with a tragic story to tell about his son; the legendary leopard of Abjaterskop; the man who kills his wife and buries her under the dung floor of his voorkamer …

Jealousies, hatreds, loves and betrayals – the entire range of human emotions are laid bare in a manner at once humorous and satirical, romantic and ironic. Mafeking Road reveals to us a world quaint and distant … and yet powerfully familiar.

Herman Charles Bosman, who died of a heart attack in 1951, is one of South Africa’s most famous story-tellers. This is a classic collection of his short stories. As a person he had a unique way of seeing life, an intense excitement that he managed to convey in his stories. His books are pre-eminent in the field of South-African literature.
Read on THIS SITE more and you can view more books written by him in English as well as in Afrikaans.
You can order the book HERE from Kalahari.net….


Please click HERE to visit the Groot Marico on your next trip…this is HC Bosman-world…and read about Patrick Mynhardt…
Patrick Mynhardt was the Honory Life President of the HC Bosman Literary Society.

If you like this, you’d also like…

(for the witty teller of folk-tales:

-Mark Twain, “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” (1867) and other sketches and stories.

-Sholom Aleichem, Tevye’s Daughters, and other stories (c.1905-1916).

-O.Henry, Heart of the West (1907).

Click on THIS LINK to read more….

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Image…Wikipedia
Click HERE on this post to read my translation of his poem “Dans van die reën” in English…The link will open in a new window. “The Dance of the rain”…and you can read about this book on the link too.

Dance_in_rain_peerflydotcom

EUGÈNE Marais was a South African poet, a story-teller, a journalist, a lawyer, a psychologist, a natural scientist, a drug-addict, and a great genius — an abused and forgotten genius, and the world is the worse off for that.”
Read “Soul of the Ant” HERE online.

 

Eugene Marais was one of  South Africa’s more talented writers/poets. I love his poems although I haven’t read his books. I borrowed “The Soul of the Ant” one day – when I was at Primary – but I guess I was too young to read such a book, so I didn’t finish it and read only the first few pages. Some of his poems is about nature like the ‘Winter’s Night’ (translated in English here) and the “Dans van die reën” which is -translated: ‘Dance of the rain.‘ In this poem, he describes the animals’ reaction when the rain is on its way and he describes the rain and her ‘dance.‘ Marais is just brilliant in the way he played with words/metaphors etc. Sadly, he committed suicide in 1936.
Read
HERE on Wiki  more about him. The link will open in a new window.
On the bottom of this post you will find a link to a post on my blog – in English – about Eugene Marais…he was a naturalist, scientist, writer and poet. He made a study of  ants and you can see the book he wrote “The soul of the Ant” on that link…and his other book…”The soul of the Ape”
 

Author: Julee Dickerson Thompson
ISBN: 865432597
Binding: Paperback
Publisher: Africa World Press (March 1997)

The following translation of Marais’ “Winternag” is by J. W. Marchant:

“Winter’s Night”

O the small wind is frigid and spare
and bright in the dim light and bare
as wide as God’s merciful boon
the veld lies in starlight and gloom
and on the high lands
spread through burnt bands
the grass-seed, astir, is like beckoning hands.

O East-wind gives mournful measure to song
Like the lilt of a lovelorn lass who’s been wronged
In every grass fold
bright dewdrop takes hold
and promptly pales to frost in the cold!

Eguene N Marais
WINTERNAG
by Eugene Marais

O koud is die windjie
en skraal.
En blink in die dof-lig
en kaal,
so wyd as die Heer se genade,
le die velde in sterlig en skade
En hoog in die rande,
versprei in die brande,
is die grassaad aan roere
soos winkende hande.

O treurig die wysie
op die ooswind se maat,
soos die lied van ‘n meisie
in haar liefde verlaat.
In elk’ grashalm se vou
blink ‘n druppel van dou,
en vinnig verbleek dit
tot ryp in die kou!

DIE DANS VAN DIE REËN – Eugene Marais
Lied van die vioolspeler. Jan Konterdans.
Uit die Groot Woestyn
O die dans van ons Suster!
Eers oor die bergtop loer sy skelm,
en haar oge is skaam;
en sy lag saggies.
En van ver af wink sy met die een hand;
haar armbande blink en haar krale skitter;
saggies roep sy.
Sy vertel die winde van die dans
en sy nooi hulle uit, want die werf is wyd en die bruilof groot.
Die grootwild jaag uit die vlakte,
hulle dam op die bulttop,
wyd rek hulle die neusgate
en hulle sluk die wind;
en hulle buk, om haar fyn spore op die sand te sien.
Die kleinvolk diep onder die grond hoor die sleep van haar voete,
en hulle kruip nader en sing saggies:
“Ons Suster! Ons Suster! Jy het gekom! Jy het gekom!”
En haar krale skud,
en haar koperringe blink in die wegraak van die son.
Op haar voorkop is die vuurpluim van die berggier;
sy trap af van die hoogte;
sy sprei die vaalkaros met altwee arms uit;
die asem van die wind raak weg.
O, die dans van ons Suster!

[Uit: Versamelde gedigte – Eugene Marais]
Read on THIS LINK on my blog more about Eugene Marais…Article in English…The link will open in a new window.

dvdreen_laurinda

I don’t know Laurinda Hofmeyr’s music, but she’s got an album with the song…”Dans van die reen”. I hope one of my blogger-visitors from SA would be able to tell me more…

Snitte:
1. Lied van die bruidegom – Johan Myburg
2. 26 November 1975 – Breyten Breytenbach
3. Op reis na die Suide – Breyten breytenbach
4. Inbrand – Breyten Breytenbach
5. Die dans van die reën – Eugène N. Marais
6. Kind – Rabindranath Tagore
7. Ek sal sterf en na my vader gaan – Breyten Breytenbach
8. ‘n Halwe engel – Breyten Breytenbach
9. Last grave at Dimbaza – Fanie Olivier
10. Die reis – Breyten Breytenbach
11. Lied van die bruidegom (improvisasie)

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Today…15th October 2008…I’ve received this msg from Wayne Visser…(see his poem and site in this entry too….(poem about Africa)…and if you’re interested in his request…then please contact him…he’s looking for people writing poems..but about Africa!

Hello again I thought I’d let you (and your lekker vriende) know that I’ve launched a “Poets of Africa” blog – http://poetsofafrica.blogspot.com/.Just email me on wayne@waynevisser.com and I will give permission for you to post. www.waynevisser.com

 Afrikaanse digters welkom!    
Kwa heri Wayne”
Links will open in a new window.

Today…21st March 2008… is World Poetry Day! I do love poems, I love to read poems and I like to write my own too. On my blog at the top you will now find a page saying…”My poems…gedigte”…a few of my own poems…also you will find a couple of English poems which I’ve translated from Afrikaans…beautiful poems…one from a famous writer/poet/scientist/naturalist…Eugene Marais…”The Dance of the Rain..” take a look and enjoy! also one by Totius…his little daughter died after being struck by lightning..in his arms and he wrote a poem about her…very sad poem….or you can read it  HERE …the link will open in a new window.
You can also read “The Dance of the Rain” on  THIS LINK it’s a very powerful/beautiful poem…full of metaphors…and read about Eugene Marais and the Rain Queen…on that link. The link will open in a new window.

enjoy…the Dance of the Rain!..originally in Afrikaans…”Die Dans van die Reën” by Eugene Marais. If you click on the page saying…”My Poems/gedigte”…you will find more of Wayne Visser’s poems also one which he has asked me to translate…and some of my own poems too, also the poem of the girl that was struck by lightning is to be found on that page. – see the top of my blog for the page-link and I’ve translated Wordsworth’s poem (from English to Afrikaans)…I wandered like a lonely cloud…


Image:tploy.com

The Dance of the Rain
Song of the violinist: Jan Konterdans
translated by:Nikita

The Dance of the Rain
Oh, the dance of our Sister!
First, over the hilltop she peeps stealthily
and her eyes are shy
and she laughs softly
From afar she begs with her one hand
her wrist-bands shimmering and her bead-work sparkling
softly she calls
She tells the wind about the dance
and she invites it, because the yard is spacious and the wedding large
The big game rush about the plains
they gather on the hilltop
their nostrils flared-up
and they swallow the wind
and they crouch to see her tracks in the sand
The small game, deep down under the floor, hear the rhythm of her feet
and they creep, come closer and sing softly
“Our Sister! Our Sister! You’ve come! You’ve come!”
and her bead-work shake,
and her copper wrist-bands shine in the disappearance of the sun
On her forehead, rests the eagle’s plume
She decends down from the hilltop
She spreads her ashened cloak with both arms
the breath of the wind disappears
Oh, the dance of our Sister!
©~~ Nikita

This next poem was written in Afrikaans by Ingrid Jonker and adapted by e.e. cummings…many of her wonderful poems were translated in English and other languages. I love her poems!

 

 

Image:johnfenzel.typepad.com
Somewhere I have never travelled – Iewers het ek nooit gereis nie
Ingrid Jonker
…..adapted by e.e. cummings
+
somewhere I have never travelled,
gladly beyond any experience,
your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near
~~~~~
iewers het ek nooit gereis nie daardie groen verte
verby alle herinneringe jou oë dra hul stilte
in jou geringste gebaar is daar iets wat my omsluit
of wat ek nie durf aanraak nie iets te ná
~~~~
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself
as Spring opens(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose
~~~~
jou oë van landskappe sal my maklik blootlê
al het ek my hart gesluit soos twee hande
jy ontvou my keer op keer soos die lente
bedrewe en heimlik haar eerste roos
~~~~
or if your wish be to close me, I and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
~~~~
en as jy my sou verlaat geslote dan
sou my voorhoof sluit mooi en onmiddelik
soos die hart van ‘n blom sou droom
van ‘n wit sneeu wat alles oral bedek
~~~~
nothing which we are to perceive in this world
equals the power of intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
~~~~
niks wat ons in hierdie wêreld kan versin
ewenaar die krag van jou broosheid die tekstuur
van jou oë tref my die groen van sy veld
een bevestig die ewige en die vir altyd met elke sug
~~~~
(I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
~~~~
ek weet nie wat dit is wat jou laat vou
en ontvou nie ek verstaan net êrens op my reise
die stem van jou oë is dieper as alle rose
nee nie eens die reën nie het sulke hande
On THIS LINK you can read more about Ingrid…a link to Wikipedia…there’s a Youtube-song to watch…Afrikaans song…one of Ingrid’s poems…and there’s another song to listen to! The link will open in a new window.
and….on
THIS LINK you can read more about e e cummings…the link will open in a new window.
If you’re a teacher THIS SITE is really a great site to use for poetry/literacy…try it- the link will open in a new window.

image:worldgolf.com/images/destinations/africa/southafrica.jpg
This next poem is written by Wayne Visser…you can read about him on THIS LINK …the link will open in a new window.

I know a place in Africa…
Inspiring poetry written by Wayne Visser,
a South African currently based in Nottingham, UK.
I know a place in Africa
Where I can feel the sun on my back
And the sand between my barefoot toes
Where I can hear the gulls on the breeze
And the waves crash on the endless shore

I know a place in Africa
Where the mountains touch the skies of blue
And the valleys shelter vines of green
Where the trees spread out a cloth of mauve
And the bushveld wears a coat of beige

I know a place in Africa
Where I can hear the voice of thunder gods
And watch their lightening spears thrown to earth
Where I can breathe the scent of rain clouds
And taste the sweet dew of dusty drops

This is the place of wildness
Of evolution and dinosaurs
Where life began and mankind first stood
Of living fossils and elephants
Where lions roar and springbok herds leap

This is the place of struggle
Of desert plains and thorn trees
Where pathways end and hunters track game
Of horizons and frontiers
Where journeys start and sunsets bleed red

This is the place of freedom
Of exploration and pioneers
Where darkness loomed and light saw us through
Of living legends and miracles
Where daybreak came and hope now shines bright

My heart is at home in Africa
Where the sound of drums beat in my chest
And the songs of time ring in my ears
Where the rainbow mist glows in my eyes
And the smiles of friends make me welcome

My mind is at ease in Africa
Where the people still live close to the soil
And the seasons mark my changing moods
Where the markets hustle with trading
And Creation keeps its own slow time

My soul is at peace in Africa
For her streams bring lifeblood to my veins
And her winds bring healing to my dreams
For when the tale of this land is told
Her destiny and mine are as one

© 2006 Wayne Visser

Enjoy this next poem by Edgar..Poe!

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe


Image…http://project1.caryacademy.org
 

The next poem…by Ingrid Jonker…
The Child
The child is not dead
The child lifts his fists against his mother
Who shouts Africa ! shouts the breath
Of freedom and the veld
In the locations of the cordoned heart
~~~
The child lifts his fists against his father
in the march of the generations
who shouts Africa ! shout the breath
of righteousness and blood
in the streets of his embattled pride
~~~
The child is not dead not at Langa
nor at Nyanga not at Orlando
nor at Sharpeville
nor at the police station at Philippi
where he lies with a bullet through his brain
~~~
The child is the dark shadow of the soldiers
on guard with rifles Saracens and batons
the child is present at all assemblies and law-givings
the child peers through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers
this child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere
the child grown to a man treks through all Africa
the child grown into a giant journeys through the whole world
Without a pass

 

Ingrid Jonker March 1960
(Translation of: “Die Kind” ) Poems now owned by Simone Jonker…daughter of Ingrid

On THIS LINK you can see podcast-videos of her poems in both Afrikaans/English…worth visiting! The link will open in a new window.


Image: http://farm1.static.flickr.com

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