Sunday, December 30, 2012

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Starving Student Chicken

The following story is from the Chicken Soup for the Soul Cookbook that I bought at a second hand bookshop. I know what you're thinking. Seriously? You're telling us a story from a cookbook
Just read it is all I'm saying. If any of you have read the Chicken Soup for the Soul books, I'll bet you know that what ever comes out of their pages is going to have some substance.
The cookbook is basically a compilation of "101 Stories with Recipes from the Heart" and each recipe has some significant tale given by the contributor. This story is so brilliantly witty, I had to share it. It was sent in by John and Kyoko Enright with their recipe for Starving Student Chicken.
***

Many years ago, in Japan, a starving student lived in a tiny room that happened to be just above a very fancy restaurant where rich folk came to dine. (That students starve seems to be a truly cultural universal.) The student had only one meal a day -a meager bowl of rice, which he ate in the evening before studying.
One day the student was on his way home for his frugal meal, when he chanced to meet a friend just outside the restaurant. They stopped to chat. Not surprisingly, being just before the student's meal time, they talked of food.
"It is so wonderful that I live over this restaurant," said the student to his friend. "Each night as I eat my little bowl of plain rice, I can smell the delicious odor of the wonderful food this restaurant serves, and I can imagine myself eating those tasty dishes down here with the rich folk instead of eating my rice alone up in my room. There is one chicken dish that I especially love. The garlic and pepper smell seems to creep right into my rice bowl and nourish me!"
Unfortunately, the greedy restaurant owner happened to be standing right near the door of the restaurant greeting his customers, and heard the student's words. He marched out, grabbed the student by the ear and demanded payment.
The student, horrified, protested that he had no money, but the owner simply marched him to the nearest police box and filed a complaint, insisting on payment.
By chance, court was in session at that very time, presided over by Judge Ohta. The case could be heard immediately. Judge Ohta had a wide reputation for both justice and wisdom, but the student was too caught up in his misery to realize this as the hearing started.
The owner was surprisingly eloquent in his accusation. He cited the terrible load of expenses borne by the restaurant and the need for all those who used the restaurant in any way to help meet these costs. The student's defense was pitiable: it was simply a plea that he had no money and could not pay. Judge Ohta looked thoughtful for a moment, and then began his judgement.
"Clearly," he addressed the student, "you must pay for the value you have received from the owner." If possible, the student looked even more frightened and dejected that before, while the owner, if possible, looked even more smug and righteous. 
"Do you have any money with you?"
The student found a couple sen (far less than a penny) at the bottom of his very limp purse and took them out. "Rattle them together," said the judge. Bewildered, the student did so, producing a pathetically thin sound. "Good!" said Judge Ohta. "The sound of money is sufficient for the smell of food. Case Closed."
***

What did you think?

Anthea

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

For a very special bunch of people

 Every year on Christmas day my family and I wake up, wish one another Merry Christmas and open our stockings. Later, we have our celebratory lunch, and then as it all seems so close to being over, we all jump into the car and jet off to our neighbourhood hospital. Hospital? 

Well lets start with what my mother does for a living. She is currently the Director of Quality and IT for a top medical company. So, having a connection to the healthcare world and being an amazing person, she started the tradition of going to our local hospital on the festive day to give out cookies and treats to the staff, to thank them for working that day to help others stay alive and well, and also to wish them a wonderful Christmas. In the beginning we were simply handing out store-bought cookies and wafers. However, those little packaged monstrosities were to be vanquished two years later by none other than moi

Our confectionery gifts needed a little more love in them.

So instead, I've been baking homemade delights ever since. This year I decided on fudge. I don't own a candy thermometer - I don't eat nearly enough sweets to require one - so my fudge was a bit of a flop in the beginning, but throw chocolate into anything and it will come out sweet (See what I did there?). A sugar-butter concoction to white chocolate fudge. Yum! 
My fudge was beautifully accompanied by mince pies and butter cookies made by Julie, a family friend and a divine lady as a Christmas present to the family. With the surplus of candied goods in our house, her tasty eatables made their way to some well deserving hospital employees.
This year though, only my mother and I took the trip to the place for the injured and sick. We figured that two "hang-arounders" mutely walking around and not doing anything was pointless, so her and I jetted off to do our seasonal good deed.
Want one?
The staff were so delighted and absolutely loved being appreciated for what they were doing. I thought it best to show you all what these magnificent human beings actually look like.



Pose for the photo- Beautiful!


"This is white chocolate fudge, and these are butter cookies, and these are what's left of the mince pies (a clear favourite)..."


That's Petros, the manager of the Intensive Care Unit, but also the hospital manager for the day. Such a sweet man.

This inspirational lady is a nurse working in Infection Control. She came in specially that day for one of her patients and threw her an in-house Christmas party with over 20 families coming to visit. There was food, decorations and of course, a whole lot of love. Wow.
Someone came to work looking stunning today!


It melts my heart to see how happy they are when we come around.   I even got all teary eyed at one point. Heck, my whole body is permeated by the love they show to their work and patients. One guy down in the emergency room said to me, "We do it because we love it. That's why we're here today" 
God bless you man.

Anthea

It's a holly jolly christmas

I adore Christmas. The twinkly lights, the Santa Make a Wish stalls in shopping centers, the carols, the food, and not to forget the ever cheerful mood of the populous!


As November slowly, and I mean slowly, came to an end, the 'just don't talk to me or I'll eat your face off' atmosphere of practically everyone I know began to ease up. Thank the Lord! Everyone had been tip toeing around each other for far too long, so the arrival of the red and green month was enthusiastically embraced by all. It's time for us to roll back on our heels, laugh with our family, watch cheesy holiday movies with our friends, stick the turkey in the oven and be damn grateful for what we have.
How sweet? This photo fell out of one of our stockings when we were putting them up. Sigh...

As a child, I fiercely believed in Father Christmas. My dad, designated "Santa", would always disappear on the eve of the 24th 'to go to the bank' or 'to get some more beers'. I always had a sneaky suspicion that Santa's crow's legs in the corner of his eyes were way too familiar, but as an impressionable, innocent 6 year old, I didn't dare question Rudolph's burly sleigh driver. 
I once even had the evil though of tugging at Old Man Christmas' beard just to check that it was real (Gasp!), but afraid of unknown consequences (coal in my stockings, no more Santa, ever!) I promptly kept my little paws to myself.

For years and years, the turkey for Christmas lunch fell on my grandmother, who might I say makes a mean turkey. Her earthy stuffing packs a punch of comforting flavour, and the subsequent "Toasted Turkey Mayonnaise" that my mom makes for the post feast supper is also always delicious. After who knows how many decades though, my gran gave up the goose (Wrong bird, but...shrugs). My fresh out of French chef school aunt on the other hand was just warming up! She and I got together 3 years ago to take up the task, and well, to say our banquet of food was good is an insult how damn good it was. We've officially been hooked on Gordan Ramsey's turkey with apple cranberry sauce (to die for) for the past two years.

Up until a week ago, I was in no rush to un-hook myself.
Now here is a funny thing. My gran informed us that this year she was ace for making her turkey again. Yippee!



While at the table, I asked for everyone to say what they are grateful for. All in all, we were just joyed with the company of each other. What a wonderful world.

With regards to our holiday tree, this year the whole house is the tree! Bobbles and lights have been hung up everywhere and what a beautiful sight they are. We decided that our old tree needed some new owners, so our gardener and his family(along with present packages for his siblings, his mother and grandmother that my mom beautifully made up) received our tree and a few decorations this year. They have never had a tree before in their lives. I'm so glad that we were the ones to give them one to celebrate the day.  

Stockings are up. Mine is the one with the white puppy, and it was lovingly filled with beautiful trinkets my mom picked out as gifts. I got one of those bookmark dictionaries from Exclusive Books! It's pink. I love it.
White chocolate fudge, mince pies and butter cookies specially for a bunch of super people working to keep people alive and well.
 Also, my family and I have an annual tradition where we all bustle into the car with a tray of some sort of treat to hand out to staff at our neighbourhood hospital. It is to thank them for working on the special day and to wish them a Merry Christmas. This yearly excursion though, is earning its own post, so look out for that one. It really is quite a hear-warming event of my Yuletide.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Anthea
P.S How did you spend your fine day?


Sunday, December 23, 2012

Aroma of the holidays

At this very moment I am making koulouria with my grandmother.
There is absolutely nothing on Earth like the smell of freshly baked koulouria in the house. For those who don't know, koulouria are a sort of Greek bread ring, almost like a bagel, but slightly sweeter.


If you ever want to know my family history from beginning to end with every insult, smirk or drama, my gran will fill every single detail in for you. I have been making these bready traditions since I was about 6 -of course my duties were vastly different to the current times as the fear that I will eat a ball of the raw dough when nobody is looking is no longer applicable. They think. Ha, kidding. I know it all. I love it. The whole event is such a brilliant bonding activity and the fruit of our labour is always a plus. We haven't put any in the oven just yet, but the scent of warmth and just a hint of spice that the dough gives of is already enough to lift the spirits.
I am writing this as I roll and make rings out of the dough, with my notebook and a pen on the side, if you were wondering why I am talking in the present tense.
Okay, we've put some in the oven and I am now updated to the fact that while on the hunt for yeast cubes, an employee at the grocers tried to "fob off" my gran. She basically just threatened to dump her whole trolley there and then and find a shop where they would treat her properly. Instead, a friendlier employee found her what she needed. Drama at the Supermarket.


Almost ready.
Ready!
They are AMAZING.
Take a look.

Does this not look delicious? If I could send the mouthwatering warmness of the above koulouri virtually, I would. No such luck, so I hope my endless adjectives have at least attempted to aid to the gospel that are my grandmother's koulouria.

Anthea
P.S. What are your Christmas bonding traditions?

Friday, December 21, 2012

Hi World, again

Fishing villages on the Kenyan coast. Big Bus tours in London. Hookers in red heels on the Hollywood boulevard. A picturesque morning fruit market in Heidelberg square. Gang wars raging on. Adagio for strings played by the London Philharmonic.  Meditating Tibetan monks. A friend leaves for good. A 76 year old reading Percy Jackson The Olympians. A jazz concert in the Civic Theatre. A Jick-white cat in the street. A gong in the living room. Peanut butter in the pantry. A blanket bought in Tanzania (made in Nigeria) on the bed. Me, sitting on the bed.

I cannot even begin to cover all the things that occur on this Earth. A million different things are occurring on the tips of my fingers, never mind a bustling street market. The cosmos is humongous. My mind yearns to expand to the very end reaches, to take it all in, to see. The universe is constantly sending messages out to us. Don't go down that road. She's the one. Read this. Even possibly, shut up. Well, I've been receiving a certain message from the great macrocosm for a while now. It's taken me a hell of a while to get it all up and running but here it is;
It's time. Time that I introduce myself, my real self, to the world.

Hi World, again. I'm Anthea Vander*, and to my previous readers, Taylor -my old pen name. I live in South Africa. I do not ride an elephant to school, and lions do not roam our streets and we certainly don't eat them - a Bangladeshi man did indeed once ask me this. I go to a school that really is quite incredible. We learn Greek there. How cool? I'm 16 years old and I'm half Afrikaans, half Cypriot. (Yes, Cypriot is different to Greek, though only the two really recognise it)
I play the violin and I've recently finished my Grade 6 exam which I passed with distinction. I've also just been accepted into the Johannesburg Youth Orchestra as a 1st violinist (So excited!). I am doing intermediate ballet with a teacher, I might add, that I adore. Mountain climbing and hiking are two passions of mine. As some of you may know, I summited Mount Kilimanjaro in 2011 and it was frankly one of my greatest experiences and triumphs of my life so far. As a muso, I listen to everything. Rock, classics, indie,a liiitle bit of metal, opera, you name it. I'm also a bit of a book worm. The Host and Jumping to Confusions are my two most beloved paperbacks. So, now with the basics over, I'll get to the point.

I've decided to out my blog to my family and friends. How scary is that? The Daydreaming Blogger has emerged from the cocoon, broken free, jumped off the building with a multi-coloured parachute on her back and has transformed into Petite Dynamite.
I am Petite Dynamite.

New topics will begin to pop up on my pages bar very soon -in union with the others currently there- which have to do with current affairs, history, music&books&movies and my own writing and life. Not forgetting to also express what it's like living in my vibrant country. I also don't plan on forgetting as a theme all the marvelous commodities and bizarre things in existence on this extraordinary planet.

I'm dedicating my blog to one, the expansion of the mind to the total amazingness of our contrasting world, two, spreading the beauty of my nation to the rest of the globe and three, my journey, including my writing pieces, in becoming a world renowned writer on par with J.R.R Tolkien, J.K. Rowling and J. Powel. (Chuckles) That last one was just me clowning around. It's actually Julie Powel. I just liked the "J" initials effect. Finally, my own odyssey of life is going to play some sort of role here. It is my blog after all.
I am so grateful for who I am and what I have. I could very well have been born into poverty and abuse, but instead, I've grown up with two of the best parents in existence, a brother who at times grinds my teeth but is actually a really cool dude, an extended family who is ready to jump into the fire right behind me, a bunch of wicked (in the positive sense of the word) friends and put plainly, a totally awesome abundance of opportunities.
I figure it's about time I start embodying myself fully and quit being the jail keeper of my life. It's time to be me. The me that is ridiculous, spontaneous, remarkable, totally in awe of our speck of a planet in the universe and true.

Now, as I can't merely abandon the Daydreaming Blogger, I felt it only fitting to give my final solutes to my blogging beginnings and complete a somewhat tradition from the first blog post I ever wrote.

The Challenge: Isn't it obvious? Life 
The Goal: Future writer, violinist, traveller... To be honest, a whole lot of Future things. 
The Risk: Hanging by the neck until dead. Whoops! Wrong era.
2012: Hmm, quite possible, everything.



My intro post is a liiitle long, I know, but indulge me; It's my intro post.

Anthea
*No real surnames on this blog, comrades. It is the World Wide Web after all.

P.S. Dear family and friends, and acquaintances and people that may know me but I might not know them,
Hello. I'm doing a very scary thing here indeed. Telling you all. I'm not going to give you a list of rules or anything like that. Just a simple good-natured request to not divulge my real surname and that when it comes to commenting, be kind. I haven't had any training -just yet- in the art of writing and blog making so consideration to that fact would be much appreciated!
Oh, and enjoy. (Smiles)



Monday, November 19, 2012

Under Construction! Beep beep!

Hey guys! My blog is currently undergoing an extreme make-over, so my template, picture, quote and everything in between is going to be fiddled, poked and prodded for in the next few days. Hope you like the final result...
Anthea (P.S I've decided to reveal my blog address to the family and friends. That is going to be interesting)

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Sparklers and Chocolate Cake

I have the tendency of becoming a circle flower at gigs or parties I'm invited to where my close friends aren't around. I say circle flower because I'm not that terrible that I literally stand by the wall all alone as a wall flower would do. No I do make an effort to join a conversation circle, but sometimes I find myself becoming one of those "Yeah, totally..." people. I hate that. This braai (South African version of barbecue) was a major breakthrough, oh, and an awesome night.

I was invited to a friend from my orchestra's birthday braai and I will say that at first I contemplated whether or not just to turn around and head back home before anyone saw me. Sad, I know, but I told myself "Anthea, don't you dare." and I didn't. I ended up having a fabulous night. I arrived there and at first I was just greeting people and I was seeing with whom I should strike up a conversation. I felt myself slowly get into that unfortunate familiar role of circle flower. I looked to my left and the friend (Lucy) who'd invited me's friends were all standing together in the kitchen, so I decided to trot up to them and I said "Hi, I've come to meet new people. I'm Anthea." From there I met my style twin who not only owned the same vintage Harry Potter tshirt I was wearing, but how freaking scary is this: As I was asking for her name I noticed her leather jacket. Not only do I have the same leather jacket- I had brought it with me to the braai- but get this, I got that jacket in LONDON, TWO YEARS AGO IN ZARA. Beyond mind boggling...
Onto the sparkler thing, at this braai Lucy had put sparklers all around in small vases with candles all around. Everyone was lighting them non-stop and it created this spectacular atmosphere.

I soon got talking to the two neighbours, Junior and Sonwabo and let me tell you we went at it for about an hour and a half. No jokes. They were thrilling conversationalists and I had such a ball.
Lucy is a musician, as were most of her guests including me, so we all partook in a music jamming session with our orchestra's double bass player, Steve on her electric drum kit, Jonathan the concert master on electric violin, Jason on trombone, Damian on bass guitar and Lucy on accordion. Her accordion is this blood red colour with this striking burgundy wood. We then got called to eat which consisted of chicken breasts, steak, boerewors, excellent bread rolls, salad and an assortment of condiments such as humus, mustard and tomato sauce. Delicious, but the REAL treat was Lucy's grandmother's chocolate cake which she brought out when we all sang Happy Birthday. OMG. That cake was moist, rich, luscious, heavenly, divine, mouthwatering, delectable,... Phew, enough adjectives? It was damn yummy, to put it in short.
I don't eat chocolate cake. I don't eat sweets period, but tonight I just said stuff it. You know what I said afterwards? Good for me.

I didn't even notice the time until I checked my watch. It was 11:30. I arrived at 19:00. Incredible.

Anthea

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Smiling like a Cheshire Cat...

So, I want to share this poem I wrote for this poetry competition I entered. To give you a bit of background about the inside joke/meaning of the poem, I've recently discovered that my 14 year old brother snuck into American Pie Reunion at the movies. With this juicy piece of information I accordingly named my poem Blackmail, sweet blackmail...



  Blackmail, sweet blackmail…






Blackmail, sweet blackmail,
The grin grows on my face,

How wonderful this moment is!

I feel like a devious teenage ace;


My cunning plan weaves together swiftly,

Much like a nest of grass and reed;

Make my breakfast!

Polish my shoes!

Don’t underestimate my insatiable greed;


It all started with a conversation,

A rewarding conversation at that;

I now have some blackmail, sweet blackmail,

And little brother, I’m grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Anthea

Friday, June 15, 2012

Philosopher's Club...

Ok, so I've had an epiphany. It was in the middle of English, and we were listening to someones speech on morality. I was having a particularly low day and my eyelids were drooping lower and lower. Shabang! Crash! Bang! Bang! Bang!
I was hit with the most incredible idea. I immediately threw my hand out toward my space case which contained a small notepad, and I began to scribble away furiously with the abundance of creativity flowing through my head. I was going to start a Philosopher's Club.

To elaborate a little further into why my day before the Ding! was so low, I was the only one in my group of friends who hadn't been invited to several get-togethers at a another friend's house. I didn't take it personally. Honestly, I really don't mind since I've probably unknowingly done the exact same thing before. Alas, after about the second get-together with my best friend telling me all the details and jokes and things that happened, I was feeling quite small and sorry for myself. About a week before my little light bulb, my friends and I went to this music concert and they brought along a couple others who they knew from the gatherings. I didn't know any of them. I'm sort of kicking myself that I didn't just say Hi myself. I was being a victim of myself.
I got home that night and I let my heart out to my mother, who happens to be wiser than the average bear. She suggested I just ask that friend why I was not considered to be invited for her get-togethers. Genius! At first my mom asked why I couldn't just ask to go, but I replied that I was not going to invite myself. I've never appreciated people who did that and I was definitely not going to do it myself, but, asking for REAL feedback into why I wasn't invited was perfect!
I had totally planned doing exactly that when Tringalingaling! the flash of pure brilliance hit me.

Now, onto the Philosopher's Club. We will meet about every two to three weeks, and each time we'll do something different to elevate our souls and mind. I already have my first few meetings planned out. So excited!
During Meeting 1, we will be decorating our own personalised Philosopher's Journals, creating the ritual of having a weird bout of spontaneity per philosopher every session, creating a personalised salute or sign with a word expressing Wow!, making a Philosopher's Club Memoir and a few more things. Mostly we will be making philosophy lines to put in out fortune cookies that we will be making the next meeting. How cool?! I had the idea to make Philosopher's fortune cookies, then sell them, see the reactions on peoples' faces and finally, donate the money to outreach. Other things we'll be doing are like making questions for interviews of 9 year olds and 90 year olds. This was in the Glamour magazine a while back where one of their journalists asked the same questions to a 9 year old as a 90 year old. I'm not sure our ages will be so fixed, but I'm seriously interested in doing it!

My first meeting is on Monday... Wish me luck.
(Psst! Check out my snazzy invites for the club!)

You have been invited to join...
The Philosopher's Club
(I've written this on top of all the pictures)


 
 
 
 
 
  
  Anthea
P.S. Well, the club didn't totally work out in the end, but hey, I'm still game for doing the activities I thought of. All right! 

Monday, April 23, 2012

Thank you, dear lord for creating...

Today is the the day I thank the heavens, the angels and most importantly, god for my favourite things. This is not your usual type of prayer. I shall start with these words:


Thank you, dear lord for creating...


...bubble bath. It occurred to me tonight as I soaked in a bath with the glorious foam up to ears that I was in the presence of, excuse me, drenched in one of your most astonishingly beautiful creations. The light was absolutely perfect as little rainbows bounced off every sud, but that's not all. It also occurred to me that I could have very well been born into a poor family living in Morocco with absolutely no water for cooking, never mind a bubble bath. So thanks. Thanks, for me being me.




...Tchaikovsky. After the first time of hearing his genius, I knew he was my favourite composer. The Nutcracker is a musical revelation, and Swan Lake moves me with every note. I could just easily say thank you for music, but I feel this incredible man needs a personal round of applause from one of his biggest fans.






...Woolworths ribs and mealies. To give this utterly scrumptious and completely delectable meal my praise, I feel I must illustrate it with a rather strange - and definitely photo shopped on my part - picture from Ice Age The Meltdown.
Like the vultures cried "Food, glorious food!", I cry "Pork ribs, and glorious corn!"



...Stephanie Meyer, Suzanne Collins and Liz Retting. Authors of The Host, The Hunger Games Trilogy and Jumping to Confusions, my three favourite books. Oh hell, how about I just mention all the others; Thanks for Charlaine Harris: The Sookie Stackhouse Series, and Carolyn Keene: Nancy Drew and Melissa Marr: Wicked Lovely and Fiona Dunbar: The Truth Cookie and Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat Pray Love and ... Need I go on? To put this simply, thank you so (freaking) much for authors and their over-active imaginations.

...geeky Sci-fi movies, series, and oh, of course, Harry Potter. What would the world be like without Star Wars, Star Trek, J.K Rowling's famous boy with the scar, Stargate SG1, Stargate Atlantis and Stargate Universe? The thought is so horrifying I could cry, but gratefully this is a post to thank that these things do indeed exist.

... best friends. I only have one bestie (currently) and already I have a grin creeping onto my face. I love her totally to bits and I want to say a huge, ginormous -lets bust out the thesaurus- , mammoth, behemothic, colossal, gargantuan, super-duper THANK YOU for bringing that chickie into this world.

... and lastly, mothers. I know I'm severely biased, but my mom is the greatest. From taking me shopping, to visiting museums and chanting with me in downward dog during yoga, she's always there. Love you. Thank you god.

Anthea

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Please leave your message at the beep. . .


This is a photo from a play called Shwele Bawo which in Zulu means "A Grave Injustice". It's about a woman who kills her husband in self defence after years of being beaten, and her community turns on her, blaming her for giving them a bad name. Also she is clearly going to be in a bit of trouble with the authorities. It is a one actress play, where one actor plays many characters and changes in front of the audience into the separate characters.

Very interesting, but the reason I'm sharing this photo today is because I had to use the above photo as inspiration for a monologue for my Drama final this term. I'm going to be sharing this monologue with you all today. My character is a guy named Vusi, and the basic story is that he is calling to thank his date from the previous night for a great night, but gets her voice mail and decides to leave a message. There are a few South African slang expressions in the writing. At the end of this post I have a tiny little glossary and the words will be in orange. Hope you like it!

Ring, ring!
Sorry, I'm not here at the moment.
Please leave a message at the beep.

BEEP!

Hi Temba! Just callin’ to thank you for a lekker date last night.
I had a really awesome time. Haibo, there wasn’t even a single awkward moment! I feel this deep connection with you, oh and I wanna let you know that the food was delicious. I know you were really looking forward to tasting Mike’s Kitchen’s legendary cheese burger, but if it makes you feel any better, I did ask the nurse if she could stick a few fries in your hospital lunch. I understand that under all the sedation and pain meds you probably didn’t hear nothing of what I was saying all night, but sweetheart, I feel like you already know me.

How’s the leg? I mean, honestly it didn’t look that bad. Like, common, how much damage can a fifteen kay-gee bowling ball do? I know the doctor in the emergency room might have mentioned something about a “shattered femur”, but Temba don’t listen to that kak.
I asked my cousin Msizi about it. You see, he’s the doctor of the family. Planned on learning the traditional way of healing under the great Sangoma Gertrude. He ran screaming from her hut. That was day two.
Anyway, he said that he would immediately go and ask old gogo to start making you her famous goat leg splint. Apparently, this splint of hers even has its own timer for when your bone is set! According to Msizi, when the goat’s leg starts rotting and really smelling bad you know that your own leg is good as new. Plus, old Gertrude is even going to make a special ointment to help with the healing! The connection was a bit sketchy so I didn’t hear exactly what was in it. Heard something along the lines of thakibos and stinging kettle.
Who knows . . .?

I’m really looking forward to our next date. I realise we can’t go out for a while, but moenie worry nie. In the next 6-8 weeks the goat leg will come off and people will be able to hang around you again without their eyes watering from the smell. Baby, I’ll wait for you.

- - -

 Anthea
(Glossary:
 lekker - sweet
 haibo - my gosh
 kak - crap
 Sangoma - traditional African healer
 thakibos: khakibos - a very stinky weed found in grass lands
  moenie worry nie - don't worry )

Sunday, March 4, 2012

The art of self-promotion. . .

You've either  mastered it, or you haven't. For most of us the latter is usually the case. How do I get myself noticed for my talents and skills, but not sound like a self-absorbed bragger?

Self-promotion really is a skill, one way too difficult in my opinion. I have on countless occasions wished that I would've stepped up and screamed from the heavens: "I CAN DO IT! ME! ME! ME! ME!" If I were to ever share my insecurities on self-promo, well, I can already hear it. What's the worst that could happen? I'll tell you what, I'd reply, I could fail horribly!
Of course, I'd then actually be forced to think about what the real answer to that question would be. What is the worst that could happen?
Now don't lie, the answer is usually a lot better than you originally thought, but as we're being honest, I'm also going to say that 99.9999999% us on this planet are terribly/ freaking/ staggeringly/ unbelievably/ shit shared of one seemingly innocuous thing.
Failure. My goodness, the word just like that even looks scary. Ask anyone what they're afraid of. Anyone. I bet you that one will be either spiders or snakes, and the other - which they most probably will not admit to - is failure.

Why? I ask you. What is it about failing that just freaks us all out? Well, I've got two highly subjective reasons for that.
1. Ok, let's start with the obvious.
We're afraid of peoples' reactions. Whether it be on the scale of a snail shell being crushed by someones shoe, or a hurricane tearing a whole city apart, one thing we - and myself included - just don't want to face is someone else's reaction to your failure or slip-up. Another reason would be that there is always that instant assumption that you'll be mocked, and I'm not saying that it doesn't happen. People can very, very cruel.
2. Now something none of us want to admit.
When we are afraid of other's reactions, we are putting all the power in their hands. We are caring what they think and are losing strength in ourselves. We don't want to look bad.

But you know what, I, as a teenage girl, am completely and utterly fed-up with not thinking that I am great. I am fed-up with caring what others think. I am fed-up with  being hard on myself, and most of all I am fed-up with not letting and telling others that I am great.

Anyone want a tip on self-promo? Speak up.


Anthea

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Knock, knock! 2012 is here. . .

Happy New Year everyone! 2011 was a great year, but honestly, I'm not heartbroken to see it end. It's 2012 now and damn it, I'm determined to make this my best year yet.

Last year was by far my toughest year. I had friend break-ups, misunderstandings, mess-ups and whole lot of chaos.
All in all, a very difficult year, but out of everything. . . wow, did I learn a lot.
In 2011 I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, I found my true friend, I did Consciousness Coaching Master 1, and I found out a lot about myself. Some good, some bad, but how I see it, nothing can be bad if it means that I know myself better.

Last year, my New Year's Resolution was to be a better person.
This year, well, this year I'm going to have faith.
Faith that everything will turn out well, faith that I'm doing the right thing, faith that I will reach my goals.

I am going to have faith.

As well as that, I've got a few mini resolutions. Here they are:

This year I'm going to. . .

Have the confidence to wear something like this 

Eat beautiful food for a beautiful me

Enjoy myself. Be playful.
Live to be my greatest self!

Cherish my best friend

Anthea