Everything/Anything and…Chess…"Despite the documented evidence by chess historian HJR Murray, I've always thought that chess was invented by a goddess"–George Koltanowski: from the foreword to:"Women in chess, players of the Modern Age"
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!
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!
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.
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
Halala, sasiphila, kamnandi, halala, mayibuye Afrika
Source: southafrica.com/forums/language/5041-zulu-translation-request.html Krediet vir foto met Tafelberg: Suid-Afrikaanse Lugdiens
On this link HERE you can download Peter Rabbit MP3-stories for free! The link will open in a new window
We recently visited the Lake District and in particular, the western area, where you can see the purple-pinkish spot at Cockermouth. We stayed in an apartment at Mockerkin, just about 7 miles from Cockermouth. See my entry about Cockermouth here:https://chessaleeinlondon.wordpress.com/2008/08/30/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud/ and about Mockerkin here….https://chessaleeinlondon.wordpress.com/2008/09/06/mockerkin/. For my South African readers reading here…I know it’s funny to say “miles”, but in England, all distances are in miles, which was a ‘surprise‘ to us, as we are used to kilometers and the metric system in South Africa. I grew up with the metric system, but they try to keep the Imperial System in England….sort of part of “tradition”.
On this map you can see whereabouts the farm of Beatrix Potter is…the other purple spot at Hawkshead. It’s also at “Near Sawrey”…we travelled about an hour from where we stayed to Hill Top farm. You have to buy a timed ticket. We went really very early, bought our ticket -for 5 past 12. You can choose your time, but we didn’t as we wanted to go as early as possible…..so we had just more than an hour to wait. To while the time away, we were doing some sightseeing. They don’t allow many people to go in at any one time and they’re very strict. If your ticket says 5 past 12, you can’t try to slip in at 3 min past 12…ask me!! lol! You have to wait till they call the time your ticket says! On the map you will also see a spot at Carlisle…and that will be my next stop with a next entry…as we visited Hadrian’s Wall there. The remains are actually more near to Brampton…which is near Carlisle. Just south of Cockermouth you will see Whitehaven, a coastal town and it has a historical ‘story’ too. I’ve got some great images which I took there, Whitehaven has an American “connection”. If you’re curious, you can go and read about it…I will upload images about it later.
This image was taken in front of Hill Top farm
Part of the house, as there were many visitors, it was difficult to take a complete picture without any visitors. We were not allowed to take any pictures from the inside of the house, but I have images from “The tale of the Roly Poly pudding”….and if you visit the house, you are given this book and as you wander through the house, you can look at images in the book and the house too, as Beatrix Potter was an illustrator herself, you will see how perfectly she illustrated her books. In particular this tale, the setting was Hill Top farm! I also have a link where you can read the complete story online.
Part of the house that is not accessible to tourists. A farmer lives here and I think he looks after the farm too. Beatrix extended the original house, but it was asked in her testament that this part will not be accessible to tourists.
hmm…think you know what this is…this was taken a few meters away from the front door..
Samuel Whiskers! The title of this tale is…”The Tale of Samuel Whiskers or the Roly Poly pudding.” Of course you can’t leave this place without a little book and I bought myself this very tale as it has images that will remind me of the house…as the setting of this tale is this house!
‘Tea time at Hill Top ‘ by..Stephen Darbishire – Image: visitcumbria.com/amb/hilltop.htm
This piece of art gives you a great idea of what the kitchen looks like. I love it!
Beatrix Potter was born on 28 July 1866 in South Kensington, London. She lived a lonely life at home, being educated by a governess and having little contact with other people. She had many animals which she kept as pets, studying them and making drawings.
Her parents took her on three month summer holidays to Scotland, but when the house they rented became unavailable, they rented Wray Castle near Ambleside in the Lake District. Beatrix was 16 when they first stayed here. Her parents entertained many eminent guests, including Hardwicke Rawnsley vicar of Wray Church, who in 1895 was to become one of the founders of the National Trust.
His views on the need to preserve the natural beauty of Lakeland had a lasting effect on the young Beatrix, who had fallen in love with the unspoilt beauty surrounding the holiday home.
For the next 21 years on and off, the Potters holidayed in the Lake District, staying once at Wray Castle, once at Fawe Park, twice at Holehird and nine times at Lingholm, by Derwentwater, famous now for its rhododendron gardens. Beatrix loved Derwentwater, and explored Catbells behind Lingholm. She watched squirrels in the woods, saw rabbits in the vegetable gardens of the big house. She made many sketches of the landscape. They still kept in touch with Rev Rawnsley, who after 5 years at Wray, moved to Crosthwaite Church just outside Keswick.
Rawnsley encouraged her drawings, and when back in London Beatrix made greetings cards of her pictures, and started a book. Rawnsley encouraged her to publish, and eventually Frederick Warne published ‘The Tale of Peter Rabbit’ in 1902. Her third book, ‘Squirrel Nutkin’ had background views based on Derwentwater, Catbells and the Newlands Valley. Fawe Park featured in ‘The Tale of Benjamin Bunny’.
In 1903 Beatrix bought a field in Near Sawrey, near where they had holidayed that year. She now had an income from her books, Peter Rabbit having now sold some 50000 copies. In 1905 she bought Hill Top, a little farm in Sawrey, and for the next 8 years she busied herself writing more books, and visiting her farm. In 1909 she bought another farm opposite Hill Top, Castle Farm, which became her main Lakeland base. Seven of her books are based in or around Hill Top. Tom Kitten and Samuel Whiskers lived there. Hill Top is still as it was then, and is now the most visited literary shrine in the Lake District.
Beatrix Potter married William Heelis, a solicitor in Hawkshead, in 1913. Then started the next stage in her life, being a Lakeland farmer, which lasted for 30 years. The office of William Heelis is now the National Trust’s ‘Beatrix Potter Gallery’.
In 1923 she bought Troutbeck Park Farm, and became an expert in breeding Herdwick sheep, winning many prizes at country shows with them. Beatrix continued to buy property, and in 1930 bought the Monk Coniston Estate – 4000 acres from Little Langdale to Coniston – which contained Tarn Hows, now Lakeland’s most popular piece of landscape.
In 1934 she gave many of her watercolours and drawings of fungi, mosses and fossils to the Armitt Library in Ambleside.
When she died on 22 December 1943, Beatrix Potter left fourteen farms and 4000 acres of land to the National Trust, together with her flocks of Herdwick sheep. The Trust now owns 91 hill farms, many of which have a mainly Herdwick landlord’s flock with a total holding of about 25000 sheep. This was her gift to the nation, her own beloved countryside for all to enjoy. Beatrix was the first woman to be elected president-designate of the Herdwick Sheepbreeders’ Association, which continues to flourish.
Read more on this link… http://www.visitcumbria.com/bpotter.htm
Beatrix Potter bought Hill Top in 1905 with the royalties from her first few books, written at her parents home in London, but inspired by her annual holiday visits to the Lake District. She visited as often as she could, but never for more than a few days at a time, sketching the house, garden, countryside and animals for her new books.
After she bought the house, she busied herself writing more books, and visiting her farm. In 1909 she bought another farm opposite Hill Top, Castle Farm, which became her main Lakeland base.
Beatrix wrote many of her famous children’s stories in this little 17th century stone house. Characters such as Tom Kitten, Samuel Whiskers and Jemima Puddleduck were all created here, and the books contain many pictures based on the house and garden.
Beatrix bought many pieces of land and property in and around Sawrey, including the Old Post Office, Castle Cottage and a number of small farms. In 1913, aged 47, she married William Heelis in London and moved to Lakeland, living at Castle Cottage which was bigger and more convenient than Hill Top.
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 NasionalePers.
1986: Foundation of TO Honiball-Promosies
T.O. Honiball died on 22 Februarie 1990 in Montagu. Source: HERE…and read on WIKIPEDIAmore about him.
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.
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 daarenige Afrikaanssprekendes in die buiteland wathulletuis Afrikaans leer…ek sal graag van jou wilhoor as jyhier 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 ons “kultuur“…!! Further down in this post you will find more audio stories.
Jakkals en Wolf is honger
Audio file: Jakkals vertrou sy eie vredenie
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 liewershier by my.”
“O nee,” antwoord Hoenderhaan. “Ek ken jou streke. As eknabyjoukom, eetjy 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 syhonde op pad om my tesoek. 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 sekernie bang vir die honde nie. Daar is mosvrede in Afrika.”
“O ja,”‘ antwoord Jakkals, “maar die vraag is of die onnosele honde daarvan weet.” En hy draf vinnig weg.
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 syhurke 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 baiedors.”
“Ek lek my eie sop,” sê Leeu.
“Net ‘n oumurgbeentjie om afteeet,” 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 hymik met syvoorvoet.
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 staanhy op. “Baie dankie, Leeu,” sê hy. “Ek sal sulke vriendelikheid nie vergeet nie. Komeetgerus môreaand ‘n bietjiesop 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 stukwat oorbly, sleep hysaamhuis toe. “Eet julle maar die vleis, ” sê hy vir sy vrou en kinders. “Laatbly net die benevir 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 gaanhy 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.
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 maarweer.”
En Jakkals? Hy kan nieinsluknie, want distewarm. En hy kan nieuitspunie, want hy is te bang vir Wolf. Daarom sit hy so met die tranewat oor sywange 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.
“Kwaai sop!” tjank Jakkals. “Volstruissop! Volstruissop met ‘n skop!”
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 gaan lê hy 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, dandrajy my huis toe.”
En Jakkals dinkdis 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, engoed is goed –
en die beste lekker isheuningsoet!”
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, hullesing tog tepragtig!”
“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 sekermoeg,” 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 zoemtjiek! “Eina!” Zoem tjiek! Zoemtjiek! Zoemtjiek! “Eina! Eina! Eina!”
Hasie lê soos hy lag. Hy rol soos hy lag. Hymaakhomeintlik seer. Nee, Jakkals sal hom nie gou weer pla nie.
iii. Vat Hom, Jakkals! MaarHasie is glad tegerus. 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. Hasiespook, maarhy 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 maaropeet. Dis net jammer om so dorstigtesterwe. Ekwasjuis 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 homneer. 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 joulaat 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 hulledoems! al twee binne in die water. Toe Jakkals verdwyn, is allesweg.
“Ha ha ha!” lag Hasie:
“Kwaai is kwaai,
en kwaai se voet: ou Jakkals soek syeiebloed!”
En toe Jakkals hangstert uit die water klim, sing Hasie al ver in die paadjie af.
Audio file: Vat homJakkals!
Die Mooiste Afrikaanse Sprokies
uitgesoek en oorvertel deur
PIETER W. GROBBELAAR
ANTJIE SOMERS As paaiboelie het Antjie Somers geengelyke 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 natuurlikeintlik ‘n man. Hier volg een van die talle maniere waarop die verhaal vertel word.
Andries Somers was ‘n voormanonder die Strand se vissers. Wie kon soos hy ‘n treknet vasvat? Wie ‘n spaan met hom laat sak? Nee, niemandnie. En dapper! Waariemand 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 moetvlug, anders hangdiemensehomdalk 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 naamdalkeintlik 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 grootstrepe.”
“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!”
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. “Maarvoorek begin, moetjulle 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 toeskouersongeduldig. “Begin nou met jougrappies. 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 skandevir so ‘n ryk man. Hierdie blinkleer stewel behoort seker aan Fanie Fyntrap. Ek wonder of hy al ooitdaarvoorbetaal 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 geniethomselfgateuit. “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 helemarkplein 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. “Jullebehoort my tebetaal. 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]
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.
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
The Indian in the cupboard. – Afrikaans title: Die Rooihuid in die kassie
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 …
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.
Update: August 2011 – In this photo you can see the REAL Lompie! Since I have my photos with me – at last! – I’m updating some posts with the actual photos. Now you can see how close I was on finding a pic on the internet similar to Lompie and Nikki! In the next photo, you can see MY cat…Nikki. Lompie was hubby’s cat. Two wonderful pets we had.Look at Nikki in the first pic. She used to do that!
Lompie and Nikki… not our pictures, but our cats looked exactly like these two cats!! They were like two children…and you can click HERE to read about Nikki and Lompie….As a cat-lover, I want to blog a few books about cats and also some lovely poems! Enjoy!!
These first two books are both books on my shelf! Great books if you work with children or gifts to children age 9 and up to read…
This book is really a MUST-have if you’re a cat-lover! The pages are glossy and there’s interesting info about cats and cat-quotes too! This is a fantastic gift to someone that’s a cat-lover! It’s also a diary…any-year-diary…
How to draw a cat…one way! Image from the book:
“The Complete Guide to Drawing and Illustration”…A Practical and Inspirational Course for Artists of all abilities by Peter Gray.
The following three books- by Anne Fine – are really the most hilarious cat-books I’ve read!! Yes, if you’re a teacher…and a booklover!! you DO read books that children read too…well, that’s me…I’m a lover of children’s books!! They are the best!! If you want to spoil a child, this is really THE book(s) to have! I’ve got the first two books and have used it with children in Primary and even with slow readers age 12/13 and they just LOVE these books!! Children in Primary had begged me to continue reading from these books, as I’d always kept it for that last 10-15 min of the day. They couldn’t pack their stuff away fast enough to sit quietly and ready to listen. I’ve used it with a slow reader, age 12 and she wasn’t really very keen to listen/read from the books and once I’d started it, she couldn’t wait to read the entire book. You can get any child to read, it all depends on your enthusiasm and the example you as an adult set for the child. Children that don’t love reading, would love reading if they are allowed to read comics! As long as they read!! You can buy them Asterix and Obelix to get them into reading… make it fun for any child to enjoy reading! I always say to children that tell me they hate reading…the reason is..that they’ve never been introduced to good stories/stories THEY like and interesting books. As a qualified library teacher it was part of my job -the first nine years of my teaching, -to spend the library’s budget on books to be used by teachers in subjects and for children to read. I can still recall books children had big fights about and there were always endless waiting lists for all those fiction books. One way to get them into reading was to read only the first two chapters and then watch the fighting! hahaha…sometimes when their name was on a waiting list and they forgot to get the book, when it was their turn, there were some really big sparks, but if you snooze…you lose! that was our slogan in the library!!
One particular book that is still fresh in my mind, is a book written by Jenny Seed…”The 59 Cats”…this is really a funny/good book and any South African reading here…should try and get hold of this book for your child age 6-8…it’s about an old lady with all these cats…59 of them! and the people of the town want her to get rid of them and they even went to the Mayor! Sadly, she had to get rid of them, but there’s a happy ending to this story! She got her 59 cats back! Get the book and see why!!
Jenny Seed is one of South Africa’s most prolific and widely published English children’s book authors.and was of the first to be published internationally. Since the publication of her first book in 1968 in the UK, Mrs Seed was for quite a while one of a handful South African English children’s book authors that produced indigenous children’s books of an exceptional quality. Many of her books had been translated into Afrikaans (and some into German). Professor Elwyn Jenkins considers her to be presumably the most widely read English children’s book author in the country and certainly one who had a considerable didactic impact on children because she was so widely published. It is therefore no wonder that Jay Heale calls her “the mother or perhaps grandmother of South African English children’s literature”.
Jenny covers a wide spectrum with her writing – from folktales to adventure stories, some of them for early learners and ideal to be read aloud. It is, however, for her historical novels, also for different age groups, that she has become known.
In Jenkins’ book, Children South of the sun, he refers to the fact that Jenny Seed is moved by her liberal view of history and the urgings of Christian compassion to convey to her young readers, through the personal story of individuals, what she sees as both sides of the story. She impresses upon them how personal values can make a significant mark for good in the midst of great historical events over which the individual would seem to have little control. In keeping with her concern for objectivity, she bases her novels on meticulously accurate historical detail.
Because her historical novels are widely published, prescribed and read, her work occupies an exceptional place in the forming of the historical sensibilities of white South Africans (Jay Heale).
In 1983 her book, The New Fire, was honourably mentioned for the Percy Fitzpatrick Award and in 1987 Place among the stones became the first English book to be awarded with the MER Prize for children’s literature. The only reason that she didn’t won more awards and prizes for her books is the scarcity of such awards for English children’s books in South Africa.
The Children’s Literature Research Unit of the University of South Africa would like to rectify this in a small way in presenting Jenny Seed with this Certificate in recognition of her exceptional contribution to South African children’s literature.
On this link you can see this certificate awarded to Jenny Seed…
So hang me.
I killed the bird.
For pity’s sake,
I’m a cat.
Poor Ellie is horrified when Tuffy drags a dead bird into the house. Then a mouse. But Tuffy can’t understand what all the fuss is about.
Who on earth will be the next victim to arrive through the cat-flap? Can soft-hearted Ellie manage to get her beloved pet to change his wild, wild ways before he ends up in even deeper trouble?
The hilarious antics of Tuffy and his family as told by the killer cat himself.
So slap my teensy little paws.
I messed up – big time
Tuffy can’t wait for Ellie and the family to go away on holiday. A week of freedom lies ahead – if only he can get away from the catsitter. But everything goes wrong when Tufty is catapulted into the arms of horrid, sweet-as-pie, Melanie.
Melanie has always longed for a lovely, cuddly ickle pussykins. And with the promise of cream, fresh fish and escape from the catsitter, Tufty loses all his dignity. Dressed up in baby-clothes and pampered like a pussycat, has the killer cat really gone for good?
So stick my head in a holly bush!
Tuffy, the killer cat, knows what he likes. And he isn’t loving the ‘art’ that Ellie’s mum brings home from her new class. So what’s a cat to do?
A scratch here just happens to shred a painting. A nudge there somehow slips a clay pot off a shelf.
Dad hopes a particularly hideous sculpture will be next, but Tuffy’s having none of it.
The killer cat will go his own sweet way!
Mischief and mayhem rule in Anne Fine’s brilliant new story, with hilarious illustrations by Steve Cox throughout. It is perfect for developing readers aged 5-8 years. (for slow readers or children with English as a second Language, this book can be read up to age 11/12—all depends on the level of the child)
The Killer Cat spreads mayhem amongst the paint pots!
“Nonchalant Tuffy the cat makes his triumphant third outing in this latest tale by Anne Fine. Tuffy is fast becoming an archetype in children’s literature.”===achuka Reviews
“Well, stretch my stripes! Tuffy’s back, with more problems… This, the third of the Killer Cat sagas, is enough to make a dog laugh.” –Carousel
The author of the owl and the pussycat was of course Edward Lear ==1812 – 1888 ==and the first publication date of the owl and the pussycat was 1871. Wonderful illustrated graphics have also been set to the words of the owl and the pussycat poem helping to fire the imagination of a child! The burning question remains, however, what exactly is the runcible spoon referred to in the words of the owl and the pussycat poem? The probable definition of this term is that a runcible spoon is a small fork with three prongs, one having a sharp edge, and curved like a spoon. This spoon is used to eat pickles, etc.
Edward Lear Read here on WIKIPEDIAmore about Edward Lear. The Owl and the Pussycat poem
The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are.”
Pussy said to the Owl “You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing.
O let us be married, too long we have tarried;
But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?”
Said the Piggy, “I will”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon.
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Cat in the window
What do you see?
Cloud, wind, birds,
a bird in a tree.
The daffodils shivering
in the February breeze,
A puddle in the road
beginning to freeze.
Snow on the wind
Dusk in a cloud.
Leaves in a frenzy,
The bird’s head cowed.
Winter – though the sun shines.
Blizzard, and the north wind’s whine.
on a cheek or a chin –
that is the way
for a day to begin!
Sandpaper kisses –
a cuddle, a purr
I have an alarm clock
that’s covered with fur.
My cat sleeps,
On the end of my bed.
When I creep my toes
Down between the cold sheets,
I find a patch of cat-warmth
That he’s left behind;
An invisible gift.
The last 2 poems from: Read Me2: A Poem For Everyday Of The Year.
On THIS LINK you can read about the book.. “Two Frogs”…
Ahw….Wow! just look at this cute kitty!! which Streathambrixtonchess has on their blog!
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).
I would like to blog about Edgar Poe…I came across poems and just loved his poetry, in particular, this one about Annabelle Lee….and in the same time, thought to find bits about love, as this poem is about the love for Annabelle Lee…I couldn’t link the site here from where I found these bits about Love I agree with, as there are links to adult sites and it wasn’t appropriate for all to read. It’s been quite a time that I gathered information about Love, as people have different “views”, but I do think most people agree about more or less the same when it comes to love. Feel free to list what you think “love” is! I will make my list with about 10 here…this list could be much longer, as we all know there are so much to say about this topic! Love is….. …..a cup of tea in bed when you’re still sleepy! …..a flower from your own garden… …..the chirping of birds in trees …..a smile saying….”I love you!” …..carrying those heavy bags of whatever! …..massaging tired shoulders! …..getting the bathtub ready! …..showing polite manners…. …..the sunbeam on your face…. …..raindrops splashing about….
Edgar Allan Poe (January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American poet, short story writer, editor, literary critic, and one of the leaders of the American Romantic Movement. Best known for his tales of mystery and the macabre, Poe was one of the early American practitioners of the short story and a progenitor of detective fiction and crime fiction. He is also credited with contributing to the emergent science fiction genre.Born in Boston, Edgar Poe’s parents died when he was still young and he was taken in by John and Frances Allan of Richmond, Virginia. Raised there and for a few years in England, Poe grew up in relative wealth, though he was never formally adopted by the Allans. After a short period at the University of Virginia and a brief attempt at a military career, Poe and the Allans parted ways. Poe’s publishing career began humbly with an anonymous collection of poems called Tamerlane and Other Poems (1827), credited only “by a Bostonian.” Poe moved to Baltimore to live with blood-relatives and switched his focus from poetry to prose. In July 1835, he became assistant editor of the Southern Literary Messenger in Richmond, where he helped increase subscriptions and began developing his own style of literary criticism. That year he also married Virginia Clemm, his 13-year old cousin.Read more about Edgar Poe here…
And on THIS LINKyou will find all his poems and works. How do you define love?
Some say it’s mysterious, magical, complex, difficult, imaginary, thought-provoking, inspirational, intuitional, joyous, immeasurable, ecstasy, and undefinable. Perhaps.
It is important to stand in Love, not fall into it.
Love is waking up to find the object of your affection in the dream you were having asleep on your shoulder.
Could it be that Love is a story that can never be fully expressed?
Love is a bond or connection between two people.
Love is the ability and willingness to allow those you care for to be what they choose for themselves, without any insistence that they satisfy you. – Leo Buscaglia
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. – 1 Corinthians 13:5-7 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I do like this poem!! by Poe…..
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.
On this link HERE you will find ALL of Edgar Allan Poe’s poems, prose and stories! Also a Biography and even a Resources-link!
Beauty lives with kindness-Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona
I took the road less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference. Robert Frost
Creativity is the defeat of habit by originality.-Arthur Koestler
No man ever steps in the same river twice-
There is nothing more frightening than active ignorance. - Goethe
Churchill described his impressions of the Boer army when he first saw it, as a recently taken captive: 'What men they were, these Boers! I thought of them as I had seen them in the morning riding forward through the rain--thousands of independent riflemen, thinking for themselves, possessed of beautiful weapons, led with skill, living as they rode without commissariat or transport or ammunition column, moving like the wind, and supported by iron constitutions'. Carlsen vs Anand Sochi 2014
You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time.-Abraham Lincoln
Spoken by great men:"Give me 20 divisions of American soldiers and I will breach Europe. Give me 15 consisting of Englishmen and I will advance to the borders of Berlin. Give me two divisions of those marvellous fighting Boers and I will remove Germany from the face of the earth." - Field Marshal Bernard L. Montgomery, Commander of the Allied Forces during WW2.
"The Americans fight for a free world, the English mostly for honor, glory and medals, the French and Canadians decide too late that they have to participate. The Italians are too scared to fight, the Russians have no choice. The Germans for their Fatherland. The Boers? Those sons of Bitches fight for the hell of it." Amercan General, George 'Guts and Glory' Patton.
European Chess Club Cup 2012
London Chess Classic 2015
A nation that forgets its past has no future - Winston Churchill
He who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool. Shun him. He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child. Teach him. He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep. Wake him. He who knows, and knows that he knows, is a leader. Follow him.
If Education is the key, school is the lock.
Education is either to calm the disturbed or disturb the calm.
He who opens a school door, closes a prison-Victor Hugo
Docendo discimus [by teaching we learn]
Gary Player: 'I am a South African, a nation which is the result of an African graft on European stock and which is the product of its instinct and ability to maintain civilized values and standards amongst the aliens'.
Above all shadows rides the sun- Tolkien
In Renaissance Europe chess was part of the education of the nobility and was proclaimed the “Royal Game.” In 1732 Benjamin Franklin wrote an essay, The Morals Of Chess, in which he said “The game of chess is not merely an idle amusement; several very valuable qualties of the mind useful in the course of human life are to be acquired and strengthened by it....”
'Rebranding the Afrikaner: World Cup watershed?' [CNN] A good link: read all of Jabulani74's comments on this link.
on THIS LINK you can read the truth - Sharpeville [or the lies, whichever way you want to see it-see the 2nd image too]
The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis. Dante Aligheri
Sow the wind - Reap the hurricane
Istanbul Chess 2012 [Click the image for the official site] Biel Chess Festival 2011- Click the image for the official site
"Mag aldus die Afrikaner stam, van wie die toekoms altyd vol hoop was, in die einde opgroei tot 'n kragtige boom, en ons dade toon dat ons waardig is om 'n plek in te neem in die ry van die volke..." Paul Kruger
Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass... It's about learning how to dance in the rain-Vivian Greene
No one can know or appreciate the Boer who does not know his past, for he is what his past has made him- Conan Doyle - Click HERE to read more by Doyle.
An opinion should be the result of thought, not a substitute for it.
South Africa. Other than Germany probably the most misunderstood White country in the world. A country that has now degenerated into anarchy.Let’s take an unbiased look at their noble history.[click for the link]
He who knows nothing is closer to the truth than he whose mind is filled with falsehoods and errors. Thomas Jefferson
Any dead thing can go with the stream; it takes something ALIVE to swim against it.
Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.
T.S. Eliot Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different
The man who does not know who his great-grandfather was, naturally enough would not care what he was...the man who fears to disgrace his ancestor is certainly less likely to disgrace himself. Charles Major, When Knighthood was in Flower
Die grootheid van die mens kan gesien word in hoe hy teenoor sy minderheid optree.
Every truth has four corners: as a teacher I give you one corner, and it is for you to find the other three.-Confucius
Music expresses feeling and thought, without language; it was below and before speech, and it is above and beyond all words. ~Robert G.Ingersoll
'And lastly, we learn by chess the habit of not being discouraged by present bad appearances in the state of our affairs; the habit of hoping for a favorable chance, and that of preserving in the search of resources.' -Benjamin Franklin, 'The Morals of Chess'
The hardest game to win is a won game --Emmanuel LaskerAvoid the crowd. Think independently. Be the chess player, not the chess piece- Rumi It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation. -Herman Melville While one should always study the method of a great artist, one should never imitate his manner. The manner of an artist is essentially individual, the method of an artist is absolutely universal. The first is personality, which no one should copy.
Did you know: Chess has the most extensive literature of any game, sport or pastime.
Chess is a sea in which a gnat may drink and an elephant may bathe –Indian proverb
Chess is the touchstone of the human intellect.
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The chessboard is the world, the pieces are the phenomena of the Universe, the rules of the game are what we call the laws of Nature and the player on the other side is hidden from us--Thomas Huxley.
God created the world just like a knife and left it up to us to take it by the handle or the blade--C J Langenhoven
Jou persepsie hang waarskynlik alles af van hóé wyd jou opvatting van die poësie is-Joan Hambidge.
Doubt is the beginning, not the end, of wisdom.- Proverb. I doubt, therefore I think; I think therefore I am.-Rene Descartes-
Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is one element of faith.- Paul Tillich
He who knows nothing, doubts nothing. Spanish proverb. Wisdom begins in wonder.- Socrates
Val eerder in my sop as in my rede--Langenhoven
Seek in the past everything that is good and clean and build thereon your future.
Vriende moet soos boeke wees, min, maar goed uitgesoek --Langenhoven
Friends should be like books, few, but hand-selected --Langenhoven
Goeie boeke en musiek verryk jou siel --Langenhoven
Good books and music enrich your soul --Langenhoven
Let those love now who never loved before. Let those who always loved now love the more. --Thomas Parnell
Love is like quicksand--the deeper you fall in, the harder it is to get out.
Some people come into our lives, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never the same.
There is no failure except in no longer trying--Elbert Hubbard.
The secret of success is the ability to survive failure --Noel Coward.
You cannot step twice in the same river, for other waters are continually flowing in--Knowing not how to listen is knowing not how to speak--Heraclitus, Fragments. Vuil wasgoed is om te was!-- Langenhoven
'I think one move ahead - but it is always the best move'-Reti
Some part of a mistake is always correct. - Savielly Tartakover
Chess teaches you to control the initial excitement you feel when you see something that looks good and it trains you to think objectively when you're in trouble.--Stanley Kubrick A man is like a fraction whose numerator is what he is and whose denominator is what he thinks of himself. The larger the denominator, the smaller the fraction.
Love is like a knife, it can stab the heart or it can carve wonderful images into the soul that will last a lifetime.
A rising tide raises all boats! - JFKennedy
The artist creates in order to free himself, only to find himself again in the end-Irma Stern
And think not you can guide the course of love. For love, if it finds you worthy, shall guide your course.Kahlil Gibran
Chess, like love, like music, has the power to make men happy.Tarrasch
Chess is a beautiful mistress.Larsen
Chess is as much a mystery as women.Purdy
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.Benjamin Franklin
Love is like a Game of Chess: One False Move and You're Mated ~ Anonymous~
Chess is the art which expresses the science of logic.Mikhail Botvinnik
The pawns are the soul of chess.Philidor~~Play to win, if not, be an artist and draw~~
Those that know, do. Those that understand, teach. Aristotle
By learning we teach and by teaching we learn
Men Top Ten chess players
Women Top Ten chess players
Education is the apprenticeship of life -Robert Willmot
Chess Grandmaster -Vassily Ivanchuk says:
"And do you like playing chess against women?
I wouldn’t say I do particularly, but I also wouldn’t say I don’t like it. In general, I try not to make an exception out of games against women. In chess, female logic differs little from male logic, which you can see just by analysing games. After all, the strongest female players work with men in one way or another. I don’t know what the female style of play is. Or more precisely, I don’t see any difference when compared to male play. In everyday life I also don’t divide people into men and women. For me, personal qualities, mentality and upbringing are the important things when spending time with people."
Everyone is a genius.But if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid.
It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.― Benjamin Franklin
The real challenges on the way to become a master test your strength of character more than they test your chess skill!-Kevin Spraggett 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
Descartes: cogito ergo sum (ek dink, daarom is ek)
==The stupid neither forgive nor forget, the naive forgive and forget,the wise forgive but do not forget--Thomas Szasz
Wanneer jy groot dinge dink, groot dinge glo en groot dinge bid, gebeur groot dinge - N V Peale
Mense sonder boeke, is soos arende sonder vlerke-G.D.Labuschagne
A mere copier of nature can never produce anything great. -Joshua Reynolds
Jou beeld is 'n verflenterde foto in 'n skewe, versplinterde raam en 'n sestal geskommelde letters spel jou tweelettergrepige naam Jou woorde is dor manuskripte vir die motte bewaar op die rak en ons dae 'n kralesnoer syfers op 'n outydse muuralmanak. - Koos du Plessis
Love means nothing in tennis, but it's everything in life.
Einstein:Chess grips its exponent, shackling the mind and brain so that the inner freedom and independence of even the strongest character cannot remain unaffected.
Die woord 'skaak' kom van die Persiese woord 'sjah', wat koning beteken. Ook die woord 'mat' is Persies en beteken 'dood'.
If chess is a science, it's a most inexact one. If chess is an art, it's too exacting to be seen as one. If chess is a sport, it's too esoteric. If chess is a game, it's too demanding to be just a game. If chess is a mistress, she's a demanding one. If chess is a passion, it's a rewarding one.
If chess is life, it's a sad one-Unknown Anand vs Topalov 21 April 2010
Book of the moment: In Search of South Africa by H V Morton
by: Unknown Author
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh.
When care is pressing you down a bit.
Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns
As every one of us sometimes learns.
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out:
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt.
And you never can tell how close you are.
It may be near when it seems so far:
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
"Vrome vaa'dre,fier en groot!
Deur vervolging, ramp en nood
was hul leuse, tot die dood:
Op dan broers, en druk hul spoor,
voorwaarts, broers, die Vierkleur voor
laat die veld ons krijgsroep hoor:
Jan FE Celliers
'He who knows not and knows not he knows not, is a fool, shun him. He who knows not and knows he knows not, is simple, teach him. He who knows and knows not that he knows, is asleep, wake him. He who knows and knows that he knows, is a leader/wise - follow him.' -