About 40% of adult deaths that occurred in the age group 15-49 years in 2000 were due to HIV/AIDS. About 20% of all adult deaths are due to AIDS. When combined with the excess deaths in childhood, AIDS accounts for 25% of all deaths in the year 2000 and has become the single biggest cause of death in South Africa. And if nothing is done to treat AIDS, the number of AIDS deaths is expected to grow further to more than double the number of deaths due to all other causes, resulting in 5 to 7 million cumulative AIDS deaths in South Africa by 2010.
There's this media campaign for AIDS awareness in South Africa called Love Life. I always thought their approach to the topic was a bit off-colour, rather promoting promiscuity than steering the youth away from it. The main slogan for the campaign (see title) was to inspire the youth to stay alive till 2010- it being the year of soccer world cup, SA's first attempt at proper public transport, and, well it's just such a smooth number. Even though I found the message slightly morbid the slogan stuck, and wherever my road leads me, in 2010, I'd love to be on home grounds.
With SA recently passing a bill legalising gay marriages (see http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15714036/ ) and religious fanatics kicking up a storm over this, I've been wondering where the line is between human rights and overseeing immorality. Just to clarify myself - the passing of the bill is shaap-shaap in my books. A liberal decision, but it is almost 2005, y'all. SA is a pioneering, leading country in so many ways, and in just as many, it's stuck in the corrupt political mud.
The line gets thinner with the following:
A mail from my mother, a teacher, told of the following developments in SA's education.
The government wants to implement maternity leave for school children, because so many pupils are out of school with pregnancies. The even want to bring creches to school, so that the children and their children can be close together. The kids keep having kids because the government gives grants to underaged mothers (the more kids your have, the more money you get, without lifting more than your knees). And so continues a destructive cycle.
The path to hell being paved with good intentions and all that.
That was my daily dose of cynicism.
On a happier note - I had whale for school lunch. Itadakimashita!
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Hyaku bottles of beer on the wall, hyaku bottles of beer..
The vice-principal just offered me coffee, even though I've been parked on the net for almost an hour now. Maybe they do like me.
See, this is where paranoia comes in. You sit at your desk, secretly typing mail messages about Mexian nights and Second-hand shopping into your keitai under the table. You could be making worksheets or re-developing the teaching structure or thinking up games for class, but really, there'd be no point.
My team-teacher partner (snigger. haha. yeah. whatever) has called in sick for the second day in a row. Yesterday he had a very, very high fever. Today he cannot move his head. Ladies and Gentlemen, English has been cancelled. Ja, these kids' English future has been cancelled. At least they have Japanese, which'll take them another 6 or so years to figure out in any case.
Wait, the paranoia bit:
So, you're sitting at your desknot working, which in essence goes against my work-ethic grain, but I have my own admin to do and verbs to study, and no classes to teach. Shite man, the kyoto-sensei even asked me to please enjoy studying today.
But still.
Underlying paranoia combined with just enough knowledge of the language to know that you don't understand, creates a dangerous combination. In my hiragana-muddled mind, any and every conversation could be about me, and how I'm not working. It's all the product of knowing that I could be doing more than I am at the moment. Eish.
That's the thing with paranoia. It's very self-centered. And that's exactly the reason why I never hang onto it for very long.
And in other news, I don't have school the next two days.
Join the JET program! All we ask of you is nothing!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
We waste, therefore we are
After reading a post on Wessel's blog concerning whaling, I've been having arb conversations with fellow teachers about why Japan keeps killing whales, even though their numbers are going down. Feeding thousands of schoolkids on tomato-soaked whale meat for school lunch, and till having enough left over for dogfood..
To see the entry, direct your cursors to
http://thesausageonmylap.blogspot.com/2006/11/here-today-gone-tomorrow.html#links
The fact is, it all comes down to supply and demand. The demand for tons of cheap meat is high in a country of 128,085,000 hungry people. And, as the saying goes, "There is nothing to throw away from a whale except its voice". Money talks, and it keeps the spears sharp.
To end this unfocussed post about waste (because I've had many rants about it in the past 3 months, plus Vicky just gave me a bowl of chicken curry and rice, so itadakimasho), I'd like to quote something by my new favourite author, Haruki Murakami.
Waste is the highest virtue one can achieve in advanced capitalist society. If you put an end to waste, mass panic would ensue and the global economy would go haywire. Waste is the fuel of contradiction, and contradiction activates the economy, and an active economy creates more waste.
To see the entry, direct your cursors to
http://thesausageonmylap.blogspot.com/2006/11/here-today-gone-tomorrow.html#links
The fact is, it all comes down to supply and demand. The demand for tons of cheap meat is high in a country of 128,085,000 hungry people. And, as the saying goes, "There is nothing to throw away from a whale except its voice". Money talks, and it keeps the spears sharp.
To end this unfocussed post about waste (because I've had many rants about it in the past 3 months, plus Vicky just gave me a bowl of chicken curry and rice, so itadakimasho), I'd like to quote something by my new favourite author, Haruki Murakami.
Waste is the highest virtue one can achieve in advanced capitalist society. If you put an end to waste, mass panic would ensue and the global economy would go haywire. Waste is the fuel of contradiction, and contradiction activates the economy, and an active economy creates more waste.
Trying Hard to Be a Girl (part 2)
Halloooo Kitty!
In an honourable attempt to subscribe to Japanese stereotypes, I pimped up my keitai. Cellphone. Texting device.
Once again, I had a total of one class at school today, and spent a good 4 minutes raiding the sticker collection I found in my desk drawer and turned my phone into a fruit salad. Cherries and strawberries, that's what girls are made of. And here, boys too.
For the kids back at home, here's a little poem:
waarvan is meisies gemaak?
van koekies en soentjies en soet soet lemoentjies
daarvan is meisies gemaak
waarvan is seuntjies gemaak?
van paddas en slakke en rondloper brakke
daarvan is seuntjies gemaak
Trying Hard to Be a Girl (part 1)
Okay, so, how cool are these boots.
No, really. On a scale from 9 to 10, how cool are they?
Sure, they are one number too small, I lose all feeling in my toes after wearing em for more than 5 minutes, and they make my feel feel like it's being ground up for minced beef. But that's hardly the point, ne.
That's what happens when you buy footwear at a Japanese toystore.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Quote Unquote Japan
Thursday Evening - Slurry conversations with young, drunken boys.
Him: "So, are you an uma?"
(uma is Japanese for horse)
Me: Uma? What? Am I a horse?
Him: No no.. an uuuuma. Is your sex an uma?
Me: Do I.. What? Are we talking beastiality here?
Him: Nooo. Not Uma... Uma! Like. Not a man, a uma.
Me: Oh.. Woman.. You want to know if I'm a woman. Nice.
Saturday - Driving to Mt. Daisen.
"Have you ever made out with an ape?"
Saturday - Driving back
"Oh look, there's the salaryclam!"
--The what?
"It's a clam wearing a suit and tie. A salaryclam."
Him: "So, are you an uma?"
(uma is Japanese for horse)
Me: Uma? What? Am I a horse?
Him: No no.. an uuuuma. Is your sex an uma?
Me: Do I.. What? Are we talking beastiality here?
Him: Nooo. Not Uma... Uma! Like. Not a man, a uma.
Me: Oh.. Woman.. You want to know if I'm a woman. Nice.
Saturday - Driving to Mt. Daisen.
"Have you ever made out with an ape?"
Saturday - Driving back
"Oh look, there's the salaryclam!"
--The what?
"It's a clam wearing a suit and tie. A salaryclam."
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Putting the 'exclude' in 'exclusivity'
Drie maande het verbygegaan. Die Honeymoon is verby. Met die dalende temperatuur kom die harde realiteit dat jy heavy ver weg van die huis is. Daar is nerens om jou wonde te gaan lek nie. Niks is bekend nie - nie die kos, die mentaliteit, die taal, die tv programme, die mode, niks herhinner jou aan wat jy ken nie. Winter voel groot en koud, en wag om die draai soos 'n Hatfield mugger.
Snaaks genoeg kan ek twee definitiewe oomblikke onthou in die afgelope 24 uur wat alles grys gekleur het.
1) Ek het met 'n skok besef dat niemand ooit vir my sal kom kuier nie. Nie sonder 'n kar nie. Bitter min mense gaan ooit Niimi toe, want hier's niks nie. En van Niimi af vat dit 30 minute met 'n fiets om by my uit te kom. Hierdie is seclusion soos jy nie kan imagine nie.
2) Ek het wakker geword uit 'n Suid Afrika droom, waar ek omring was met mense wat baie vir my beteken. Ek het met my oe toe gele en na 'n kriek buite geluister, en was convinced dat ek op my bed in Sasolburg was, onder die quilt wat my ma gemaak het. Totdat ek besef het ek le in Japan. Om halfpad om die wereld te travel in 0.4 sekondes is bliksems vinnig. En die landing is nogal seer.
So, vasgevang in bad habits en pointless existence het 'n week van introspeksie stadig in my kop in gesyfer. Bastian Balthazar Bux se kamer met 'n duisend deure en 'n goeie dose Dandy Warhols het dit verder gevat. En so het ek in 'n dromerige niksheid rondgeloop met vraagtekens om my gesig vir te lank. Tot 5de periode.
Shouji. Skoonmaaktyd. Almal gryp besems en lappe, en vee vloere en was tafels. Daar's nie iets soos faktotums in Japanese skole nie. Ek en die secretary doen ons eie dinge in stilte, totdat ek vir haar in Japanees vra waar ek 'n vuilgoedsak kan kry. 'n Stadige conversation ensue, oor my heritage, Hollands en Engels, maar my oe is seer van kanji oefen, en my kop is seer van Japanees luister.
Sy vat my na my tafel toe, en bring 'n klein boekie na my toe. Die titel is iets soos "Some days are blue". Elke bladsy het 'n standaar cute animal foto in swart en wit, met 'n sinnetjie in hiragana/katakana/kanji geskryf, en 'n Engelse translation onder dit. Sy lees die Japanees. Ek lees die Engels. En ek is oortuig dat die sekretaresse 'n engel is.
Hierdie simpel boekie cruise bladsy vir bladsy deur elke ding wat my gepla het. Partykeer voel dit asof jou lewe geen doel het nie. Partykeer voel jy oorweldig. Partykeer voel jy klein en insignificant. Partykeer weet jy nie waarom jy doen wat jy doen nie. Maar moenie moed verloor nie. Onthou wie jy is. Aanvaar elke uitdaging, en aanvaar verantwoordelikheid vir jou besluite. Niks is te groot nie. Niks is onmoontlik nie.
Na die tyd wil ek vir haar se "jy verstaan nie hoeveel hierdie vandag vir my beteken het nie, in alle eenvoudigheid", maar ek het nie die woordeskat om dit te doen nie. So ek arigatou, ek domo arigato, en sy smile, knik haar kop, en se vir my ek kan huistoe gaan. En oppad terug notice ek alles wat ek begin mis het - die sonlig op die water, die rooi shrine hek in die bosse weggesteek, die maan wat in die daglig soveel groter as in SA is..
Maybe is hemel op die platteland. Maybe is daar engele.
Snaaks genoeg kan ek twee definitiewe oomblikke onthou in die afgelope 24 uur wat alles grys gekleur het.
1) Ek het met 'n skok besef dat niemand ooit vir my sal kom kuier nie. Nie sonder 'n kar nie. Bitter min mense gaan ooit Niimi toe, want hier's niks nie. En van Niimi af vat dit 30 minute met 'n fiets om by my uit te kom. Hierdie is seclusion soos jy nie kan imagine nie.
2) Ek het wakker geword uit 'n Suid Afrika droom, waar ek omring was met mense wat baie vir my beteken. Ek het met my oe toe gele en na 'n kriek buite geluister, en was convinced dat ek op my bed in Sasolburg was, onder die quilt wat my ma gemaak het. Totdat ek besef het ek le in Japan. Om halfpad om die wereld te travel in 0.4 sekondes is bliksems vinnig. En die landing is nogal seer.
So, vasgevang in bad habits en pointless existence het 'n week van introspeksie stadig in my kop in gesyfer. Bastian Balthazar Bux se kamer met 'n duisend deure en 'n goeie dose Dandy Warhols het dit verder gevat. En so het ek in 'n dromerige niksheid rondgeloop met vraagtekens om my gesig vir te lank. Tot 5de periode.
Shouji. Skoonmaaktyd. Almal gryp besems en lappe, en vee vloere en was tafels. Daar's nie iets soos faktotums in Japanese skole nie. Ek en die secretary doen ons eie dinge in stilte, totdat ek vir haar in Japanees vra waar ek 'n vuilgoedsak kan kry. 'n Stadige conversation ensue, oor my heritage, Hollands en Engels, maar my oe is seer van kanji oefen, en my kop is seer van Japanees luister.
Sy vat my na my tafel toe, en bring 'n klein boekie na my toe. Die titel is iets soos "Some days are blue". Elke bladsy het 'n standaar cute animal foto in swart en wit, met 'n sinnetjie in hiragana/katakana/kanji geskryf, en 'n Engelse translation onder dit. Sy lees die Japanees. Ek lees die Engels. En ek is oortuig dat die sekretaresse 'n engel is.
Hierdie simpel boekie cruise bladsy vir bladsy deur elke ding wat my gepla het. Partykeer voel dit asof jou lewe geen doel het nie. Partykeer voel jy oorweldig. Partykeer voel jy klein en insignificant. Partykeer weet jy nie waarom jy doen wat jy doen nie. Maar moenie moed verloor nie. Onthou wie jy is. Aanvaar elke uitdaging, en aanvaar verantwoordelikheid vir jou besluite. Niks is te groot nie. Niks is onmoontlik nie.
Na die tyd wil ek vir haar se "jy verstaan nie hoeveel hierdie vandag vir my beteken het nie, in alle eenvoudigheid", maar ek het nie die woordeskat om dit te doen nie. So ek arigatou, ek domo arigato, en sy smile, knik haar kop, en se vir my ek kan huistoe gaan. En oppad terug notice ek alles wat ek begin mis het - die sonlig op die water, die rooi shrine hek in die bosse weggesteek, die maan wat in die daglig soveel groter as in SA is..
Maybe is hemel op die platteland. Maybe is daar engele.
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