City girl engineer

I am a city girl
My heart beats to the jostling of people through busy streets, the bargaining of traders at the corner shop , the hooting of taxis @ Noord, the chugging of trains at the break of dawn. 

Its the drone of traffic without which I cannot be lulled to sleep, the sirens sounded by earnest burglars without which I wouldn't be awakened to sweet smelling mornings. 

I am an engineer. I dig deep into my soul to devise machines ...
That turn and churn and keep a pace
Persistent 
Consistent 
Like the endless energy of the N1 Highway
Like the tireless approach of the stop-street beggar.
Like the perfection of the smog settling dust on the Ponty tower.

I am a city girl 
Ticking, clicking, texting, chiming to the abuse of the city
Dulled eyes for the innocence of "die platteland"
I'm poised and perched and vehemently pressing buttons

I am an engineer
Designing shafts to lower people to jobs
Mining my soul
Innovating a skyscraper to avenge the hollowed heart
Creating a mirage of dead-end possibilities
Replacing gold with thirst and hunger and need 

For more and more and more of this pulsing antithesis;
Knowledge-Power
Wealth-Debt
Employment-Labour
Freedom-Danger
Services-Poor delivery
Gated homes-Excessive crime
Fauna -Concrete

It is by these excitements and challenges that I humbly genuflect to my city - as an engineer and city girl.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

In Expression of DIStatse

The media is alive again after a rather quiet few weeks of post Malema, no uncanny cum irrational outburst- like- announcements or remarks. We had all forgotten that Malema's rather loud voice was masking a similar and perhaps more decisive voice of Mr Zuma.

so the circus acting has yet again begun . This time the media is aflock with drama of the presidents family jewels being painted by an artist. The painting named, "Zumas Spear" . Ive never understood art and by the reactions of the public , neither does majority of the country,  i don't think I'm deep enough to share the understanding that the shades used or the type of brush stroke or the scene depicted can mean anything more than i see.

So to me, Jacob Zuma in the Van Gogh like replica with his pants unzipped is really just that...the artist finds Zuma worthy of being in a VG( i hope i have the famous artist right ) painting but perhaps feels that Mr Zuma is a bit free below the belt. Whether this is an insult or not is probably dependent on the artist. Perhaps like poetry, art is dependent on the artists impression...i guess. That's all i can gather from the painting which i haven't even seen. Ive heard about it...on every news show from radio to TV and i cant stand it!!!

there are millions of other things that we need to fix up in this country and we asked for freedom of expression in the constitution. This gives people the right to curse openly , gives homosexuals a place in society , gives songs like "shoot the Boer" a chance of being heard and draws a grey  line between moral and immoral. WE ASKED FOR IT. WE ACCEPTED IT.

so what am i doodling on about ?

we are unfair in that we put the presidents image before the rest of the country I am a citizen too, i have rights too, dont I ? If I am a victim of crime don't i deserve the same kind of swift action, the same kind of hullabaloo?  If the same people who are given first prefernec in the courts are the same ones who have left a residue from previous or pending implications in the very crimes that we feel are unresolved. if i am burgled, hijacked, raped and my case never reaches court but my presidents painting is given first preference then are we not a nation led by DISrespectful, DIShonest, DISregarding , DISpleasing, DISgraceful and even DISturbing persons?

Perhaps when the painting is dealt with and Mr Zuma has his name re-etched in the minds of hos supporters, he will win the next election. Perhaps the artist will be fined or imprisoned for expression of something he felt legal, perhaps those in power will sleep well knowing that they have won....but for the rest of us who live in the real SA, sleep will still be disturbed by fear of losing ones life, losing our hard earned possessions, being prey to monsters that are justified by the actions of our leaders...if they can , why cant we?

its no wonder that people are again beginning to take things into their own hands. It may be wrong , but their plight is not being heard. Everyone needs to live and dignity is everyone basic right. Why should we leave this as a privileged for the people in power. Surely we should consider this as a something that people earn like respect. in this case , those in power don't deserve it...they have turned us into their minions...working for their comfort. When you look at the really poor people in this country...its a real pity that this is allowed.

beginning of yet another year

i wish i could sound more enthusiastic about this beginning. Beginnings are supposed to be chocolate coated with hope of better and bigger and brighter.

I feel that i am neither better, nor brighter and only my waist line has found itself a whole lot bigger.

i keep trying to put things into perspective. I have a whole lot to be grateful for. For one i have the job that many will dream of, i have a wonderful family with whom i spend lots of quality time despite the physical distance between all of us, I have a successful NPO that keeps good kids in school and motivates them to be as much as they can be, i am well set on the path of completing my masters degree and I have my car in which i disappear to meditate (so to speak) when i need to find direction.

so i guess this is sounding a tad bit too similar to the girl next door! I cant help it. She's going through it too. The quarter life crisis. I have everything that independence can buy but I'm stuck in a vicious cycle of being so independent that i don't want to depend on anyone. And dare anyone offer to be of assistance to me! These people are not looked upon with much regard as they try to steal my hard earned independence. Why on earth would you like to help me if I can do it myself? no don't pick up those shopping bags for me I can do it myself! how dare you buy something for me, don't you think i could have bought it for myself if i needed to ? Oh no you wont solve the problem for me, I have the ability!!!

i have discovered though that with all this independence comes a large ( and i mean super huge ) amount of stress and the impossible  "I" problem. I worry that i wont actually be able to carry those shopping bags or solve that problem. I worry about the need for the item "i really didn't need". What if i need it ? So yes I'm stressed. Stressed that I'm not good enough on any level. My competitiveness has gotten the better of me and boy oh boy is it harmful.

so here i am, 2012, starting off with tons of stress that i cant deal with. I don't know how to slow down. some little being inside me is warning me that I'm heading for a breakdown!

Sometimes all I wish for a shoulder to cry on (dependence!) . That's what friends are for , right? When i meet up with friends though, its always the same story. We are competitive to the extent that lunches turn into shows of accolades, comparison of status symbols and battles for first place.

we were never like this. Growing up, we used to be there to support each other. A wedge has grown between us and the only description that i have for it is the mantra that adults taught us..."strive for success"

i wish they explained in more detail what success is. Why must success be depicted as the flashiest cars and the latest apparel. To me success is being able to manage the shift in responsibility of older societies to modern society. Where the older generation barely grappled with these questions because it wasn't their focus, I find myself and people in my circles constantly trying to solve their modern lives while deeply immersed in the remnants of the genetically superior beings shortfalls. there is no written plan on how to make it work. the goal post keeps shifting though. Next month , success will be painted in a different shade of grey.

I'm standing at a crossroads at the beginning of this year. while the two paths wont kill my ambition they may redefine success for me: the one may lead me to another mirage of ultimate success, the other will yield and accept the present achievements as my success and perhaps success of a different kind. Its a choice i have to make.

the only enthusiasm that I have is hidden in the pursuit of happiness. I hope that the existence of happiness isnt another fallacy created to get the world to beat to a silent pulse.

Somalia Drought 2011 (Children)

Coming Soon...

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Travelling in the USA: Part 2

New York City: The thought of going there formed knots in my stomach which tightened and tightened as the time drew nearer and the minutes ticked away.

My expectation of NYC were really the same as any there city. I recall thinking that i was being collected in a car from the airport! i also asked a colleague to leave me at the airport for my return to homebase because his flight was later ( and he had a car)

for all the fears and apprehension i had about the place, NYC turned out to be nice.

well , actually it is nothing and everything. in one way   it is cold, indifferent , individualistic, intimidating and contained. in another way it is welcoming, challenging , freeing , accepting and contagious. Nothing makes sense and anything goes.

i spent 3 day s there, 2 of which were very much by myself. I was always alone but never felt lonely. Theres a heartbeat t which NYC pulses and soon as i tuned to it, i was hopping between subways , catching meals on the go, waving down taxi's, rushing, rushing and rushing.

on Saturday morning i finally got a tour of uptown NYC; Harlem , Bronx, Central park and the theatre district. On TV we aways see it as a dangerous place, the Bronx that is. It has actually changed and is really safe( def safe compared to home )

Central Park lks lovely. Its surrounded by the wealthier people of Harlem  and is thus used as such( my opinion). Thes rich people include the likes of many Hollywood stars.

throughout my tour, I was reminded of how many different cultures are represented in NYC. Mexicans, Germans, Chinese, Italians, Africans (from all over Africa i guess) and of curse Indians( the native red-Indians of America)
NYC used t be owned by these Indian people who called it Manna Hatta ( something t do with the mountains of what is nw call Manhattan). It was sold for $24 in the beginning of the 19th century to the Dutch( I think). Today only the name Manhattan reminds one ( if you know the history) of its roots. Its such a mix of people and cultures , even its architecture is diverse that n0thing can be called "UNIQUELY AMERICAN" except the bright lights and sleepless character of the place.

In NYC its really difficult nt to fit in. Everyone comes from a lineage of expats and everyone is welcome. Hobos and rock stars share the same street sin a harmony quite unlike in many other cities. i guess that's the beauty f NYC.

President Obama studied at the Columbia university in the city. He shared the subway with many people. I doubt he shared his dreams and aspirations . Like many others, I experienced the solitude f the city. Where your neighbour could be anyone but who cares!

I guess that's the arrogance if NYC.

Its the perfect contradiction.

Travelling in the USA: Part 1

written in March or April...I'm not sure
its now hurtling toward the end of my stay in the USA and what an experience it has been .

Today I'm off to the Amish region , elk spotting and cheesecake factory visiting in Pittsburgh. This after fun yet exhausting group work session that ended at the early hours of the morning.

So after 4 hours of sleep I'm up again , and swapping my bookish hat for a more welcome yet equally stressful travel hat . The unexpectedness of what lay ahead of us in the paces visit , the reaction of people to me , to us, the unfamiliarity all add an extra heartbeat to my natural pulse.

we're driving through the country now and for miles and miles the roads are lined with barren trees trying to dare a smile while reaching up from the snow relieved grounds.

here a little town. i wonder how many people live here . I guess we're on the main street in Mercer. Subway to my left and a bit further down , MacDees. A little way from the Subway theres a jail house and a City hall. This is what country movies are made of.

okay so we have reached the little Amish town called Wilmington. A few buggies have passed( nothing too exciting!)