Hermias het deur sy pa die pos gekry by die biblioteek waar hy sy aande spandeer om rakke reg te pak, en mense te SHOOSH! Na twee jaar het hy die boekrakke beter geken as sy pad huistoe en hy kon ‘n verbykomende boeing stilmaak. Enige onderwerp vanaf argitektuur tot ingenieurswese kon jy vir Hermias oor uitvra, en hy het jou reguit na die rak gestuur waar jy dit sal kry. Daar was wel een ding wat hy in die twee jaar by die biblioteek jou nie mee kon help nie, en dit was Katinka.
Katinka was die dorp se grootste koek en Hermias was hals-oor-kop verlief op haar. Sy het gewerk net een vloer bo Hermias s'n, by die Teologie afdeling. Vir haar kon jy enige iets vra oor geloof en sy het vir jou ʼn boek en ʼn preek voorsien. Daar was gerugte dat haar ouers haar telkemale kere ingeskryf het vir KykNet se ‘Boer soek ʼn vrou,’ met die hoop dat sy ʼn man sal vind, en uit die huis trek sodat hulle kans kry om hulle pensioen en skelm skinnydip-sessies te geniet. Dit was alles tevergeefs want Katinka het geweier om te sondig, en hulle het maar begin voorberei vir die dag wat sy sou uitkom as lesbies.
Maar wat niemand geweet het nie, was dat Hermias gedurig in haar dagdrome verskyn het. Ook elke keer wat hy haar vriendelik gegroet het met sy bekoorlike check-hemp en kleurvolle strikdas, het Katika dieselfde kriewel gevoel in haar broek gekry soos destyds toe sy as tiener vir Chris Edwards op Egoli gesien het. Sy het dan die oomblik probeer red deur histeries te giggel, bedagsaam terug te groet en dadelik vergifnis te vra deur stilgebed.
Na lang ure se worsteling met homself het Hermias een aand besluit hy kan nou nie meer met hierdie geheim verder rondloop nie, en besluit om sy liefde aan Katinka te verklaar. Die enigste probleem was, hy was bang. Baie bang! Net soos Katinka in die geheim bang was om die roerende gevoel met hom te deel, was Hermias ook te bang vir die potensiale vernedering en verwerping wat op hom wag as sy, soos haar ouers vermoed, vir die ander span bat.
Hy het wel hierdie vrees diep gebêre en seker gemaak om Katinka in die koffiekamer om 6:30 (die tyd wat sy elke aand haar rooibos-tee en Marie-beskuitjies geniet) terloops raak te loop.
Teetyd het aangebreek en Hermias stap angsbevange teekamer toe. Met sy aankoms groet hy Katinka waarby sy hom groet met haar dierbare giggel en blooswangetjies. Sy maag slaan bollemakiesies. Hy maak vinnig ʼn koppie tee en loop amper in die deurkosyn vas terwyl hy orals om hom mors. Toe hy uiteindelik sy sit kry, vang hulle eers op met mekaar se doen en late, soos hulle gewoonlik doen. Daarna volg ʼn ongemaklike stilte. Hermias se oë vang hare, en hy kyk vinnig af. Sy lyk benoud en hy wonder of hy die rede is vir die ongemak. Hy voel hy gaan enige oomblik ʼn kat skiet, maar hy skel homself saggies en herinner homself dat hy nie meer ‘n tiener is wat wil opgooi vir alles nie.
Meteens kry hy moed van bo af, maar toe hy opkyk, staan Katinka voor hom met haar oë styf toegedruk en haar gebreide toppie opgelig. Hy staar vir ‘n paar sekondes na die pragtige wit borste met fyn moesies en probeer iets uiter. Toe hy sy mond oopmaak is die oomblik te groot en al wat uitkom is sy middagete; kaas en spinasie quiche.
Vir weke kan niemand tee drink in die teekamer nie. Daar word vermoed iemand het melk gemors wat êrens lê en suur word. Anders as die teekamer misterie, het Hermias en Katinka spoorloos verdwyn. Daar word bespiegel waar hulle heen verdwyn het. Iemand het genoem, hy het vir Katinka een aand op televisie gesien, maar is nie heeltemal seker dit was sy nie.
Een ding wat almal wel weet, is dat haar ouers heeltemal kens is na haar verdwyning, want hulle dra blykbaar nou nooit meer klere nie.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Nog ‘n dag, nog ‘n sosiale mediablad om by aan te sluit
Toon het homself nog altyd as ‘n tech savvy tipe persoon beskryf. Toe Suid-Afrika sy eerste mobiele foon in die winkels bekendstel, was hy eerste in die ry om een aan te skaf. Ook die dag toe digitale kameras sy neus wys het hy al wat ‘n blom en landskap gekiek en daarna elke foto netjies in ‘n folder op sy rekenaar gestoor. Van die Internet kon jy hom niks vertel nie. Hy het presies geweet waar al die www’s en punte kom en ook wat jy daar kan vind. Vra hom uit oor enige webblad of onderwerp dan begin hy verduidelik wat hy al gelees het. Dit was tot en met die internetfoon hibriede wat Toon sy vriende en familie begin afskeep het.
Toon se nek was gedurig krom gebuig terwyl hy besig was op sy foon opsoek na iets. In die middel van gesprekke het hy skielik begin tik aan eposse. In die donker van die nag was sy gesig gedurig verlig deur sy skerm soos een van daardie diepsee visse wat lig benodig om te paar.
Alhoewel mense minder van Toon gesien het, het hulle meer en meer gemors eposse ontvang van hom. Meeste van hulle met die letters ‘FW:’ vooraan wat met verspotte video’s van YouTube of niksseggende boodskappies pronk. Anders as dié irritasies gepaard met die sporadiese “wmj” op mxit, het Toon soos die Skim verdwyn.
Toe een middag ontvang almal op eenslag Toon se vriendskap versoek op Facebook. Dit was tog te lekker vir hulle om weer sy gesig te sien, al was dit nou net op sy profiel foto. Toon het ure probeer om dié, wat so na hom verlang, in te lig oor sy doen en late deur gedurig status updates te maak, en foto’s te deel. Hy het later neuroties elke aspek van sy geheime lewe met almal gedeel. In ‘n donker kamer êrens in die heelal het hy staaltjies gedeel soos, ‘Toon is moeg,’ ‘Toon het nou baie lekker geëet’ en ook ‘n gunsteling, ‘Toon se blaas is vol!’ So groet hy elke oggend en elke aand al sy maatjies in die kuberruim maar niemand sien hom meer nie.
Later het sy obsessie veelvuldig gegroei en kon jy van Toon lees op Twitter by @Toonverteljoumeer. Toe MySpace en LinkedIn. Sy familie het vir die eerste keer in jare weer sy stem gehoor toe hy by Skype ‘n rekening oopmaak. Toon het mettertyd sy eie blog gestig, en daar kon mense in meer detail lees oor sy moegheid en wat is sy gunsteling gereg om te maak. Die laaste van sy ontdekkings was Instagram waar nog meer foto’s van onbenullighede ingestroom het.
Toon het obsessief gedeel met die wêreld. Elke gedagte, elke takie, elke droom was geredigeer om in 140 karakters te pas. Met elke prentjie was daar gepeuter om mooier voor te kom sodat dit meer ‘likes’ genereer. Soveel so dat hy een laatmiddag, vermoedelik, in sy rekenaarskerm geklim het en realiteit verruil het vir ‘n kuberruim lewenstyl.
Na daardie noodlottige middag het niemand ooit weer van Toon gehoor, of gesien nie. Net so af-en- toe, het hy homself ingeteken regoor die wereld saam met elke kuber-fanatikus.
Toon se nek was gedurig krom gebuig terwyl hy besig was op sy foon opsoek na iets. In die middel van gesprekke het hy skielik begin tik aan eposse. In die donker van die nag was sy gesig gedurig verlig deur sy skerm soos een van daardie diepsee visse wat lig benodig om te paar.
Alhoewel mense minder van Toon gesien het, het hulle meer en meer gemors eposse ontvang van hom. Meeste van hulle met die letters ‘FW:’ vooraan wat met verspotte video’s van YouTube of niksseggende boodskappies pronk. Anders as dié irritasies gepaard met die sporadiese “wmj” op mxit, het Toon soos die Skim verdwyn.
Later het sy obsessie veelvuldig gegroei en kon jy van Toon lees op Twitter by @Toonverteljoumeer. Toe MySpace en LinkedIn. Sy familie het vir die eerste keer in jare weer sy stem gehoor toe hy by Skype ‘n rekening oopmaak. Toon het mettertyd sy eie blog gestig, en daar kon mense in meer detail lees oor sy moegheid en wat is sy gunsteling gereg om te maak. Die laaste van sy ontdekkings was Instagram waar nog meer foto’s van onbenullighede ingestroom het.
Toon het obsessief gedeel met die wêreld. Elke gedagte, elke takie, elke droom was geredigeer om in 140 karakters te pas. Met elke prentjie was daar gepeuter om mooier voor te kom sodat dit meer ‘likes’ genereer. Soveel so dat hy een laatmiddag, vermoedelik, in sy rekenaarskerm geklim het en realiteit verruil het vir ‘n kuberruim lewenstyl.
Na daardie noodlottige middag het niemand ooit weer van Toon gehoor, of gesien nie. Net so af-en- toe, het hy homself ingeteken regoor die wereld saam met elke kuber-fanatikus.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Being part of a statistic
Recently it was required of me to enter a 200 word article together with an application for a writing position as travel writer. The topic of the article had to be on the ‘greatest challenge facing our economy.’
The minute I received the assignment, I immediately consulted the all-knowing Google. After a few hours of dismal discoveries I came to find that our country is riddled with economic challenges, the biggest of them all being unemployment. Well, this was as you would say in Afrikaans, ‘reg in my kraal.’ Not only was there plenty to write about this topic, but I could personally relate to it as well.
My research showed that twenty five percent of this country’s people are currently unemployed. Now if you weren’t born with the mathematical gene, let me assist: It is more than twelve and a half MILLION!
Yes, more than one fifth of all South Africans has to somehow eat, drink, commute, pay labola and finance their pot plant fetish (or is it just me?) with no job. Not Ayoba, né?
Like I mentioned previously, this is an issue I can totally relate to. Since the start of 2012, I have been actively searching for a job, and regardless of a few months spent as an intern at eNews, I am still presently unemployed. I am constantly comparing myself to classmates and friends in order to see whether I am behind on the ‘finding a job race.’
This metaphorical race I am referring to is some sort of rites of passage for all South Africans of my generation. But it is one I will not wish upon another, much like having your heart broken and a horrifying first sexual experience.
And during this phase I have come to realize that the pursuit for a decent and good paying job is very similar to that of the quest for one’s true love.
Let me explain:
It all starts with you applying for a position. Occasionally you’ll push your luck by applying even though you know you are completely under qualified. But you tell yourself; if I never try then I will never know. This submission is much like your first approach at the bar, or even your first text message declaring your interest, and for all you tech savvy liberals out there, your first Facebook poke. Occasionally here too will you try to court someone out of your league with the same philosophy; if I never try….
Next is your curriculum vitae. Many hours is spent on this document in order to market yourself appropriately. This can be compared to a single person’s obsession with their own appearance. People spend hours at the gym, in front of a mirror, or even at the waxing salon in order to catch the suitor’s attention. It is in a way safe to say, you (and even your finely planned facebook profile) is your CV.
Then comes the waiting game. Many a time I have found myself almost compulsively waiting for that phone call, confirming my success. Sometimes to no avail. This is very much the same as the neurotic girl or guy, waiting to hear from their newly found love to call back, asking to see them again.
When your application is successful, and they have contacted you then comes the interview. Boy, I hate the interview! Much like the first date, nervousness can present itself in the following ways: Loss of speech. The inability to detect any obstacles in your way, and then recovering after your embarrassing tumble. Dryness of mouth. Unwanted stomach activity. And sweaty palms.
Then comes the rejection. After your application wasn’t successful, self-doubt and jealousy set in. During this phase one questions your abilities to the point that you would just want to quit. But you are then reminded that you need to pay rent so you start looking again.
This is very much like the post failed relationship depression. This time of pity and doubt leads to questions you maybe don’t want answered like; should I rather change my sexual orientation? Will I die a silently and lonely death with my cats devouring my decomposing corpse? Or should I join a monastery?
If there is one thing I have learned when it comes to finding love, then it is to be patient. They say you need to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince. Well, I’m pretty sure it counts for finding the right job, ‘cause I’m absolutely not against making out with someone for a job opportunity…. I’m just joking (no, I’m not!).
The minute I received the assignment, I immediately consulted the all-knowing Google. After a few hours of dismal discoveries I came to find that our country is riddled with economic challenges, the biggest of them all being unemployment. Well, this was as you would say in Afrikaans, ‘reg in my kraal.’ Not only was there plenty to write about this topic, but I could personally relate to it as well.
My research showed that twenty five percent of this country’s people are currently unemployed. Now if you weren’t born with the mathematical gene, let me assist: It is more than twelve and a half MILLION!
Yes, more than one fifth of all South Africans has to somehow eat, drink, commute, pay labola and finance their pot plant fetish (or is it just me?) with no job. Not Ayoba, né?
Like I mentioned previously, this is an issue I can totally relate to. Since the start of 2012, I have been actively searching for a job, and regardless of a few months spent as an intern at eNews, I am still presently unemployed. I am constantly comparing myself to classmates and friends in order to see whether I am behind on the ‘finding a job race.’
This metaphorical race I am referring to is some sort of rites of passage for all South Africans of my generation. But it is one I will not wish upon another, much like having your heart broken and a horrifying first sexual experience.
And during this phase I have come to realize that the pursuit for a decent and good paying job is very similar to that of the quest for one’s true love.
Let me explain:
It all starts with you applying for a position. Occasionally you’ll push your luck by applying even though you know you are completely under qualified. But you tell yourself; if I never try then I will never know. This submission is much like your first approach at the bar, or even your first text message declaring your interest, and for all you tech savvy liberals out there, your first Facebook poke. Occasionally here too will you try to court someone out of your league with the same philosophy; if I never try….
Next is your curriculum vitae. Many hours is spent on this document in order to market yourself appropriately. This can be compared to a single person’s obsession with their own appearance. People spend hours at the gym, in front of a mirror, or even at the waxing salon in order to catch the suitor’s attention. It is in a way safe to say, you (and even your finely planned facebook profile) is your CV.
Then comes the waiting game. Many a time I have found myself almost compulsively waiting for that phone call, confirming my success. Sometimes to no avail. This is very much the same as the neurotic girl or guy, waiting to hear from their newly found love to call back, asking to see them again.
When your application is successful, and they have contacted you then comes the interview. Boy, I hate the interview! Much like the first date, nervousness can present itself in the following ways: Loss of speech. The inability to detect any obstacles in your way, and then recovering after your embarrassing tumble. Dryness of mouth. Unwanted stomach activity. And sweaty palms.
Then comes the rejection. After your application wasn’t successful, self-doubt and jealousy set in. During this phase one questions your abilities to the point that you would just want to quit. But you are then reminded that you need to pay rent so you start looking again.
This is very much like the post failed relationship depression. This time of pity and doubt leads to questions you maybe don’t want answered like; should I rather change my sexual orientation? Will I die a silently and lonely death with my cats devouring my decomposing corpse? Or should I join a monastery?
If there is one thing I have learned when it comes to finding love, then it is to be patient. They say you need to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince. Well, I’m pretty sure it counts for finding the right job, ‘cause I’m absolutely not against making out with someone for a job opportunity…. I’m just joking (no, I’m not!).
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