The Iris Magazine 2010

Tennis

TENNIS 3RD TEAM TENNIS 4TH TEAM

ABSENT: Michelle Bettman Back Row (L-R): Ashley Grimsell, Ms T Terblanche (Coach), Andrea Grimsell
Front Row (L-R): Jessica Fox, Karla du Toit, Sherilyn Roelofse, Front Row (L-R): Kathryn Gioia, Rachel Blew, Nadine Hetzler
Ms T Terblanche (Coach)

TENNIS JUNIOR A TEAM TENNIS JUNIOR B TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Chantal van Vuuren, Ms T Terblanche (Coach), Michelle Roux ABSENT: Stephanie Fichardt
Front Row (L-R): Saskia Redelinghuys, Krisanka Redelinghuys Front Row (L-R): Kaylee Benkenstein, Rebecca Harle, Amy Hatton,
Ms T Terblanche (Coach)

TENNIS JUNIOR C TEAM TENNIS JUNIOR D TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Leandra Filippis, Ms T Terblanche (Coach), Tamra Golob Back Row (L-R): Toni-Anne Hards Serra, Ms T Terblanche (Coach),
Front Row (L-R): Alexia Doeg, Alexa Gioia Catalina Barja
Front Row (L-R): Chèree Janse van Rensburg, Angel Janse van Rensburg,
Daniella Gioia

99PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

HVoolulesyebs all

Volleyball

VOLLEYBALL 1ST TEAM

ABSENT: Lucia Miller, Diane Mathibe, Sibongile Mahlangu
Back Row (L-R): Masego Molebaloa, Vanessa da Silva, Jenna Rossi, Shadi Monkoe, Tenushka Govender
Front Row (L-R): Onela Mtilwa, Ms Charlotte Mdletshe (Coach), Thumo Neluvhalani (Captain), Ms B Cass, Lynne Daniels

The PHSG Volleyball season started off very early with a fitness we played against teams from Zimbabwe and South Africa. Our
clinic in February. The seniors then braced themselves to share Team fought hard and came fourth in a league of thirteen teams
their skills with their new Grade 8 players. We all got to know and made our coach and myself very proud. This year we also
each other better at the first ever Volleyball Camp where we did had the privilege of hosting a team from Argentina. There was a
fitness programmes and participated in an internal tournament. lot of camaraderie and the tournament ended in a victorious win
Our senior teams took part in various tournaments this year, for PHSG. All the players gave their all this year and played to the
starting with the Inter-schools' Tournament played at PHSG. best of their abilities. I would like to thank our coaches for the
We also participated in the Schools' Tournament held at Jeppe time and effort they've put into making the players what we are. I
Girls' High School where our U14 teams played extremely well would also like to thank our liaison teachers and Ms Cass for
and our First Team won all eight matches. organising all our fixtures. I hope that the players continue to
Our First Team was also invited to the International School of show dedication in ensuring a great future for Volleyball at
South Africa in Mafikeng for an international tournament where PHSG.
Thumo Neluvhalani (Grade 12)

100 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Volleyball

VOLLEYBALL 2ND TEAM VOLLEYBALL U19C

ABSENT: Storm Whitmore, Ashley Gandy Back Row (L-R): Chelsea den Heyer, Emma Aihoon, Faithful Ijeoma,
Back Row (L-R): Chantelle FeKete, Nicole Camara, El-Jean du Preez, Mpho Biko Otlile Mooketsi
Middle Row (L-R): Mapula Maponya, Chevaughn van der Westhuizen, Middle Row (L-R): Yollande Tshimbombo, Khutso Letsoalo, Folake Olukunle,
Kelly Johnson, Susan April, Nthabiseng Chabedi Lauren Livanos, Shalom MaClean, Anele Manana
Front Row (L-R): Monique Smalley, Ms C Mdletshe (Coach), Tanya Ludik, Ms Front Row (L-R): Dudu Ngele, Charlotte Mdletshe (Coach),
B Cass, Laurali Coelho Shikwambane Nhlawalo, Ms B Cass, Maya du Plessis

VOLLEYBALL U16A VOLLEYBALL U16B

ABSENT: Bernadette Lowe, Thokozile Malaza, Bridget Uys, Joanne van den Berg, ABSENT: Tess Gregory, Sabrina James, Tiiso Maluleka, Tirion Jones
Back Row (L-R): Tinyiko Ngobeni, Masego Masonganye, Ms Charlotte Mdletshe Back Row (L-R): Raquel dos Santos, Precious Bonoko, Chelsey Percival, Ceinwen
(Coach), Ms B Cass, Vianka Naidoo, Vishanka Naidoo Rikkers, Benedicta Ekata, Tshegofatso Tleane, Mignon du Plessis, Caldi Roberts
Front Row (L-R): Shafiqah Davis, Ushana Ranjee, Joseline Nkhoma, Front Row (L-R): Moratane Rakimane, Ms B Cass, Precious Mjweti, Ms
Tlami Matshego Charlotte Mdletshe (Coach), Gretchen Tsotsetsi

VOLLEYBALL U14

Back Row (L-R): Tumi Mokoana, Crystal Dick, Melissa Muregerera,
Princess Ijeoma, Suné van Tonder, May Khalaf, Charlotte Angel, Angela Dick,
Victoria Elnikova, Tshegofatso Khampepe, Grace Luposo
Middle Row (L-R): Tara Clancy, Charissa Camarinha, Isabella Mazzone,
Tina van der Breggen, Tatiana de Aveiro, Kagiso Monyai, Nicole Katsouris,
Megan Napier, Keshmika Ramsookbhai, Penny Coundouris, Clemmie Sepeng,
Thabi Maboa
Front Row (L-R): Timikah Naidoo, Amogelang Kolokoto, Mr P Niemann,
Boitumelo Moloto, Ms Charlotte Mdletshe (Coach), Toni-Anne Serra,
Thando Dwangu

101PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

HWaoutesresPolo

Water Polo

This season the motto for Water Polo was that Water Polo girls The season saw girls from all Teams push their bodies to new
are tighter than their costumes which are five times too small. limits and grow as Polo players. The Grade 8s were introduced
Although most teams didn't get to play many games, the First to the sport with a Water Polo Clinic which saw the First Team
Team had a very busy season. They took part in three coach the Grade 8s. They have certainly improved their game
tournaments, namely the National All Girls' Aquatics Festival, and for that they can be commended.
the Reef Cup and St Peter's Water Polo Tournament. The girls Thanks go to Ms Austin, Ms Pitt and all the student coaches
went into each tournament with an overwhelming passion for without whom the season would not have been possible. At the
the game and with spirit and dedication. This led to the Team rate the sport is growing, one can only be excited to see what
being satisfied regardless of victory or loss. will come next for PHSG Water Polo.
Olivia Middleton (Grade 12)

WATER POLO 1ST TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Marissa Bester, Heynieke Brits, Megan Boegman, Anita Landsberg, Chevonne Bräsler, Nadine Boshoff, Stephi Ellington,
Kylann Robbertse, Rochelle Kirstein
Front Row (L-R): Georgia Raffaut, Olivia Middleton (Captain), Ms L Austin, Jade Janeke, Lisa Pickering

102 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Water Polo

WATER POLO 2ND TEAM WATER POLO U16

Back Row (L-R): Maureen Grobler, Maryna Jordaan, Jade Twiname, Kaylee ABSENT: Mr F. Ferreira
Higgins, Liezel Swiegers, Paula Schutte, Kiara Potgieter, Katy Nel Back Row (L-R): Kirsten Jordaan, Kathrin Gioia, Roxanne Bräsler,
Front Row (L-R): Karisma Erasmus, Kelin Oelofsen, Ms L Austin, Genevieve Shael van Greunen, Robyn Steyn, Alexis McKenzie, Bergen Massyn
Rauff, Jana Kuhn Middle Row (L-R): Eyna Mohamed, Natalie Kimble, Tyler Orfao,
Grethé van Aswegen, Rachel Blew, Kristi Bottyan, Katy Godfrey
Front Row (L-R): Kayla Harvey, Tarryn Wishart, Courtney Jordaan,
Ms L Austin, Kayla Greger, Mmbatho Mashiane, Sam Cowan

WATER POLO U15 WATER POLO U14

Back Row (L-R): Catherine Kennard, Andrea Hattingh, Chandre Jooste, Tyler Back Row (L-R): Simoné Maree, Carmen Colyn, Gabby Schoeman, Robyn
Carnie, Samantha Chamberlain, Stephanie Baker, Mieke van der Westhuizen, Reader, Shannon Egerton, Alexa Gioia, Jade Ashmore, Tara Clancy
Michaela Cox Middle Row (L-R): Andrea Chilro, Catalina Barja, Paige Schweiger, Amy de
Middle Row (L-R): Devin Oelofsen, Sevi Floudiotis, Ms A Swanepoel, Kristin Wet, Caley Moyes, Tayla Wagner, Alex Pallikarides, Charné O'Haughey, Mashán
Ellington, Chelsea Hayes van Biljon, Karabo Rammego
Front Row (L-R): Stephanie Fichardt, Natalie Maritz Front Row (L-R): Andrea Fortuin, Emma-Jay van Wyk, Kaitlin Bester, Kirsten
Harvey, Robyn Bezuidenhout, Michelle le Roux, Keina Jooste

103PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

CHuoltuusreasl Highlights

Cultural Highlights

104 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Music

Choirs

SENIOR CHOIR

Back Row (L-R): Didi Onwu, Nicole Patrick, Aimee Thompson, Chloë Erasmus, Ruthanne Harbour, Kendall Harbour, Refilwe Mthimunye,
Zaheeda Tshankie, Chloe Cormack, Catherine Humphries
3rd Row (L-R): Masego Seboka, Megan van der Zwan, Melissa Pike, Lesedi Peu, Terri-Sharne Kearns, Michelle Mlati, Neteske Horton,
Caitlin Pike, Ursula Makibela, Meghan Pike, Miliswa Ndziba
2nd Row (L-R): Mathila Nkwane, Kathleen Goss, Olé Morolo, Boitshoko Mochaki, Danielle Millar, Alison Fourie, Wilmaré Dippenaar,
Kristin Milton, Wawa Nkosi, Kgomotso Mogadime, Elise de Kock, Sibongile Matima
Front Row (L-R): Mr M Barrett, Reabetsoe Nkoane, Portia Bando, Kagiso Mphuthi, Cleo Floudiotis, Marguerite Lötter, Melissa Repton,
Meisie Modiga, Carla Classen, Onthatile Mokoena, Akhona Mafenuka, Didi Mathibe, Mrs R Spruyt

It's hard to believe that yet another choir year has come and gone Once again, the choir managed to maintain their standard of
so quickly. It seems as if it was only a week or two back that the excellence at the Choir Gala Concert. The choir did not fail to, as
choir of 2010 was setting off with the new members on our always, astound and touch the hearts of the audience. Teary-
annual camp (held at Wag 'n Bietjie) and yet so many magical eyed matrics sang their final goodbye to our choir family and a
memories and special friendships have been formed. wonderful year was brought to a close.
The fifty members have formed strong bonds through the A big thank you has to go to Mr Barrett, our conductor, for the
numerous concerts and performances. We took part in hours, work and dedication he puts into the PHSG Senior Choir
Cantatuks, the Ihlombe Choir Festival, as well as various other (and also for keeping us all laughing uncontrollably with his dry
concerts. The choir toured Kwa-Zulu Natal and performed with sense of humour). We sadly bid you farewell and wish you all the
Michaelhouse, Kearsney College and St Anne's College where best. I think I speak for every choir member when I say that we
some unforgettable memories were shared. The choir even put definitely lived up to our motto – When words, fail, music speaks!
out a CD entitled You'll never walk alone. Melissa Pike (Grade 12)

105PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

HMouussices

JUNIOR CHOIR

Back Row (L-R): Dineo More, Kika Paris, Nadja Kelfkens, Sarah Thompson, Max le Roux, Nicci Lombard, Malebo Mamaregane, Sharuth
Milton, Ellen Heydenrich, Karina de Kock, Megan Napier
Third Row (L-R): Thando Dwangu, Sunny Yang, Ailyn Nienaber, Saneh Memela, Denise Onen, Ikgomotseng Sekwala, Micaela Cox, Jodi
Carelsen, Malebo Sedibeng, Sarah Seo, Obakeng Makolai, Claudia Summers, Tiiso Maluleke
Second Row (L-R): Denise Kabugujjo, Felicia Ntsitsi, Daniella Correia, Thabiso Moloto, Dimpho Lesufi, Rebecca Mmeko, Juliette Naudé,
Melissa Muregerera, Kholeka Khuzwayo, Carol-Grace Luposo, Maria Kandy, Tatiana de Aveiro, Kgothatso Magora, Hope Mkanda
Front Row (L-R): Mr M Barrett, Ayla Raubenheimer, Tashlia Ramjee, Luthando Dube, Adrienne Mulders, Dudu Mdakane, Kholofelo Mulaudsi,
Murunwa Masibigiri, Maxine Janse van Rensburg, Sasha Dewnath, Mokgadi Marushane, Tiisetso Matlebyane, Cyrille van der Spuy, Mrs R Spruyt

Four Schools Concert

106 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Music

Orchestra

ORCHESTRA

ABSENT: Mae du Toit, Tinyiko Ngobeni
4th Row (L-R): Azille Schulze, Esther Park, Jung-ha Kim, Sin-ji Lee, Amanda Schutte, Danielle van Wyk, Sarah Mitchell, Kirsten
Chamberlin, Kristina Jovanovic, Aviva Hoekstra, Nicole Patrick, Shirna Beharrie, Abigail Bloem
3rd Row (L-R): Jessica Jung, Hwa-hae Lee, Sarah Lee, Kirstin Sprenger de Rover, Meghan Pike, Jodi Carelsen, Ailyn Nienaber, Jana Kuhn,
Anke Khun, Ying-ting Yen, Nicole Keeling, Vanessa Reiss, Yeogyeong Kim, Caitlin Cameron
2nd Row (L-R): Shadi Monkoe, Reabetsoe Nkoane, Racquel Jones, Erika Braune, Ji-ha Kim, Lean Goslett, Diana Mawoko, Shandu
Nefolovhodwe, Candice Sharp, Sharon Wu, Kganya Molefe, Michelle Roux, Anelia de Waal, Kagiso Mphuti, Ishara Wheately
Front Row (L-R): Bianca Rudolph, Cleo Floudiotis, Megan Boegman, Mrs V Hohls (Conductor), Abby van Niekerk (Head), Mrs N van Wyk,
Shanna-Leigh Davidson, Jenny Chen, Lauren Brooks, Jacqueline Hawker

From the classical melodies of Swan Lake to the up-beat rhythms home in Pietermaritzburg.
of Viva la Vida, the PHSG orchestra has played it all. This year The Four Schools' Concert is always a highlight in the orchestra
proved how truly talented all the girls in the orchestra really are. calendar and this year it was PHSG's turn to host this event. A
The year started off with a bang, when fifteen girls were able to wonderful way to end off the year along with the Girls' High
travel to Stellenbosch to represent the PHSG orchestra in the Gala Concert.
FNB National Girls' Schools Festival. None of this would have been possible without our conductor,
Our repertoire has grown considerably over the years and we Mrs Hohls and Mrs van Wyk who helped out whenever there
were able to showcase this when we were invited to play at a was a crisis with music and the support of Mrs B du Toit and of
banquet held in honour of Nelson Mandela's birthday. This course the fifty-four members. The orchestra has grown
took place at the Pretoria City Hall. The orchestra was also considerably from the eighteen girls in 2002.
fortunate for the first time ever to go one tour with the choir this This year has been filled with beautiful music and wonderful
year. I think it is safe to say that we all enjoyed ourselves, playing memories have been made.
at St Anne's College (Hilton), Kearsney College and an old age Abby van Niekerk (Grade 12)

107PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

MHouussices

SIMFONIA JUVENTI

Front Row (L-R): Bianca Rudolph, Kirsten Chamberlin, Erika Braune

BLUE TIE ENSEMBLE

ABSENT: Kirstin Sprenger de Rover, Abigail Bloem
Back Row (L-R): Karina de Kock, Chèree Janse van Rensburg, Neteske Horton, Jenny Chen
Front Row (L-R): Shanna-Leigh Davidson, Mrs A Racionzer, Emilie-Rose Oldnall

108 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Music

Rhythmony

RHYTHMONY

Back Row (L-R): Tebogo Siwela, Lesedi Peu, Nana Ntsaluba, Koketso Tijane, Mmakhotso Lamolo, Thato Mahuma, Mologadi Molala
Middle Row (L-R): Mr M Ndlovu, Tiisetso Matlebyane, Naledi Gololo, Nothando Mudzingwa, Terri-Sharne Kearns, Masego Seboka,
Meisie Modiga, Hloni Matlebyane, Kholofelo Mulaudzi, Mrs I Maas
Front Row (L-R): Didi Mathibe, Keorapetse Baholo, Dineo More,Nolwazi Mabena, Heather Smith, Maria Banda, Manana Tsoagong

One of the many lessons each Rhythmony singer has learnt from wasted.
our multi-talented conductor, Mr Ndlovu, is that no one, To Mrs Maas, thank for your endless guidance and patience.
especially a singer, should ever belittle oneself in order to blend in Your encouragement and motivation have often served as my
and let others shine. In Rhythmony, we shine together - we are pillar when all was bleak and weak. Nothing you have said has
one unit. We are a family. fallen on deaf ears. To Mr Ndlovu, your passion and talent has
Our main focus and aim this year was to create a sense of left us speechless and motivated. We are proud to say that you
belonging, pride and confidence in each Rhythmony singer. are a most influential person in all of our lives.
After all, Rhythmony is a choir of soloists. Elite soloists. We To my Rhythmony ladies. Wow! There are no words. All of
didn't have many performances because of that, but whoever you are so talented, so driven and so ambitious. You all have
listens to Rhythmony in the future is now guaranteed a beautiful, such strong characters, yet you succeeded in co-operating
quality performance due to the effort that was put in by each of us beautifully. You have improved yourselves, pushed yourselves,
this year. expressed yourselves with music. You have loved it and
A Rhythmony rehearsal would not be the same without a life- breathed it. Be it. Be music.
lesson from Mr Ndlovu. One phrase that stood out for me is a To the next Rhythmony leader - serve Rhythmony, and not
Zulu saying that Mr Ndlovu loved to use. It translates: “A stick yourself. Let music guide you; you will never be lost. Trust in
that is placed in a heap of compost for a long period of time, will Mrs Maas's judgement and guidance, and assist Mr Ndlovu in
be rotten by the time it is pulled out.” And so I plead with everything.
everyone to take that phrase to heart. No talent was given to be Thato Mahuma (Grade 12)

109PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

MHCuolutuussirceasl Highlights

Concerts

110 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

HCuoltuusreasl Highlights Music

Choir Camp

111PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

CHluobusseasnd Societies

Clubs and Societies

HEADS OF CLUBS AND SOCIETIES

ABSENT: Sibongile Matema, Reabetswe Motsamai, Nicole Dawson, Annabel Hadjinicolaides, Zizi Dlamini, Hannah Solomon, Eleanor Harding
Back Row (L-R): Amber Burnette, Melissa Pike, Lauren Hudson, Kelly-Jane Williams, Abby van Niekerk, Giselle Kotze, Ntombi Ngwenya,
Tanja Schmid, Shannon Black
Front Row (L-R): Sofi Zway, Elise de Kock, Mrs D McCusker, Natalie van Niekerk, Lauren Brooks

Amnesty International as well as all our members for continuing to make Amnesty what
it is. To all the girls at Girls' High, I urge you to do something,
“The only thing necessary for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing.” however small, to ensure that evil doesn't flourish. You have the
Edmund Burke power to make a difference.
Sofia Zway (Grade 12)
This past year has been a very busy one for Amnesty. Our main
goal for the year was to raise awareness about human rights which Art
began early in the year with a Human rights Awareness Week.
We started by showing the movie The Choir, a film about life in Art Club began this year with a mere nine pupils and has grown
South African prisons. A presentation was showed in assembly drastically throughout the year to a group of sixteen pupils.
and A Right of the Day was pinned on the notice board each day. 2010 has been a successful year of Art Club with girls ranging
White ribbons were sold each day in support of the 16 Days of from Grade 8 to Grade 10 showing excellent commitment to the
Activism Campaign and all proceeds were donated to People club as well as a growing interest for the projects that had been
Opposing Woman Abuse (POWA). The week culminated in a assigned to the girls. I am very proud of all Art Club members
special assembly. The guest speaker was Professor Stephen Finn, and all the hard work and dedication is appreciated.
who spoke about his novel Soliloquy and how bullying is linked to Activities completed during the year:
human rights. It certainly was a resounding success. Sadly, Ms Landscape mosaics
Cator, our dedicated teacher for the past fourteen years, left at the Sculptures
end of Term 1, but we were very fortunate when Mme Bloem Etching
took over. This new beginning is certain to bring much-needed Prints
change and new ideas to the club. Apart from our weekly Painting.
meetings, in term two we went to watch John Kani's Nothing but Art Club girls have entered items of the projects completed
the Truth at the State Theatre. It is a powerful play about apartheid throughout the year into the Annual Exhibition and have
and the TRC and was thoroughly enjoyed by all. I would like to received positive feedback.
thank Mme Bloem and my incredible deputy, Saneze Tshayana, Annabel Hadjinicolaides (Grade 12)

112 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Clubs and Societies

Bridge Chess

This year has been quite an interesting one. Many a time I have Every year, many girls join our ranks in the Chess Club as
had to explain to next year's possible Grade 8s and this year's enthusiastic beginners. Some leave us but those who stay are the
Grade 8s that Bridge is neither about building bridges nor poker. eager ones who aspire to improve. This year was no different.
It is a fun card game played with two pairs of partners. At the beginning of the year, we paid a visit to our brothers in
It is rather fun and interesting to watch girls play, some having a khaki for a fun doubles tournament and it was enjoyed by all. A
face full of concentration or trying out a poker face, and others big thank you goes to our brother school for hosting us.
just enjoying themselves. Either way many skills are learned and Each year, the Chess Teams face many challenges, namely: The
it is great to see girls progress. National Girls' Schools Festival, school league matches and the
We entered the Inter-high Bridge Competition again this year, Eunice Derby Day.
even with short notice given to us. The girls were eager to play At the annual challenge of the National Girls' Schools Festival in
and give it another shot at the trophy which was held captive for April, hosted by Rhenish Girls High School in Stellenbosch, the
many years by Boys High. This made it an even bigger privilege First Team came fourth out of ten schools. Although this was a
and joy when we won. disappointing finish, the team played tirelessly and learned a lot.
Even though the club has been rather small this year it has still The girls recognised this as a stepping stone and enjoyed the
been a pleasure to see girls enjoy themselves and excel. It has camaraderie with our sister schools from all over the country.
also been a joy to have so many committed girls, who I hope will The Eunice Derby Day proved to be a challenge for the Second
continue in the future. Team as they woke up early one Friday morning to travel to
Tanja Schmid (Grade 12) Bloemfontein to play their hearts out against our long time
rivals, Eunice Girls High. After a long and tiresome day of
Chess, the Second Team lost to Eunice. All the girls played

BRIDGE CHESS 1ST TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Katy Godfrey, Bianca Jane Dicker, Thobekani Mabasa, Back Row (L-R): Louise van Tonder, Sophia Liu, Fei-Fei Qi, Aye-Chan Htun,
Robyn Steyn, Kieran Byrch, Sharon Eagle Belinda Harding
Middle Row (L-R): Ellen Kruger, Ashleigh September, Megan van Staden, Front Row (L-R): May Khine Kyaw, Mrs S Labuschagne, Keyuri Naidoo
Shelley-Anne Nowosenetz, Emma Nurse, Micaela Cox, Itumeleng Thokwane
Front Row (L-R): Cassandra Willers, Tanja Schmid (Head), Mrs J Cowan,
Megan Steyn, Chrissandra Naidoo

CHESS 2ND TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Sophia Liu, Keitumetse Salagae, Sophia Rahman
Front Row (L-R): Mantshadi Tlhabadira, Mrs S Labuschagne, Christy Flaxman

113PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

CHluobusseasnd Societies

amazing games and should be commended for their spirit and Debating
contribution to the growing Second Team. The fact that the girls
are able to improve themselves for next year's meeting with The Debating Society has grown in popularity within both the
Eunice is an achievement in itself. club and the school. It has been a privilege to witness such an
There were many tournaments and individual trials where the increase in interest. Thank you to the girls for their
girls played their best against players from all over Gauteng. The commitment. This year, both our junior and senior teams
First Team came third in the League matches against Affies made it through to the schools' provincial rounds, with our
Meisies, Jafta Mahlangu and Hoërskool Menlopark. senior team ranking first. Our success continued as we came
Congratulations go to Belinda Harding for being selected to play first in both the Roedean Festival and Eunice Derby day. The
in the Gauteng North U18A team; this is an outstanding juniors, too, made us proud when they represented us at the
achievement! National Girls' Schools' Festival in Stellenbosch. They were
Over the years, Chess as a sport at Pretoria High School for Girls pitted against some of the top first teams and they ranked in
has grown tremendously. Our thanks go to Mrs Labuschagne for the top four, at the end. The African Schools' Debating
her time, constant support and kind manner in which she Championships was another prosperous tournament for us in
communicates with the girls. Without her, the Chess Club would that our team, Brynne Guthrie, Jolandi Swanepoel, Devi
not be where it is today. Pillay and Irene Mpofu, were placed first overall; winning the
May Khine Kyaw (Grade 12) trophy.
In the Model United Nations Competitions, Elise de Kock
Contact Club and her team won both the District and SAIIA competitions.
Welcome to the new schools in our area wishing to compete.
This year the Contact Club not only grew in membership, but we We are eager to reach out in whichever way we can.
also found new ways to assist the community. We continued with Congratulations to Devi Pillay, Brynne Guthrie, Jolandi
our gardening project at Lethabo le Khûtsi, a home for adults Swanepoel and Irene Mpofu for making it to the provincial
with autism. We diversified the kinds of outings we went on: trials in 2009. Jolandi Swanepoel had made Gauteng B and
from delivering cars and chocolates to an old age home on Brynne, Gauteng B at the end of last year. Brynne was
Valentine's Day, to travelling to Hartebeespoort and Silverton to selected for the South African Trial Team as well. This is a
visit various homes. This year's Jersey Display brought in more fine achievement. To Mrs Cÿrus: thank you for your
jerseys than ever before, which were distributed to over twenty dedication and passion. It means so much to have your
charities in Pretoria. I am delighted that more PHSG girls are support. It has been an honour serving and working with you
getting involved in the club and I'm sure that it will continue to over the past years. I wish the society nothing but prosperity
grow next year. in the years to come.
Elise de Kock (Grade 12) Zizi Dlamini (Grade 12)

114 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Clubs and Societies

DEBATING TEAM First Aid

Back Row (L-R): Karina de Kock, Fanisa Mlangeni, Devi Pillay, Gemma-May Silently watching and waiting, ready to jump into action when
Grotepass, Brynne Guthrie, Litha Sidondi, Rebecca Ewang duty calls. I am truly amazed at the dedication of this group this
Middle Row (L-R): Lerato Kgamanyane, Irene Mpofu, Mashadi Mogase, year. Even when, at the last minute, I have asked for help at the
Shandu Nefolovhodwe, Elise de Kock, Ayanda Mbonani, Andile Moale most unreasonable hour, I would always have willing volunteers.
Front Row (L-R): Morategi Kale, Jolandi Swanepoel, Mrs J Cÿrus, Zizi We have eleven new additions to our family this year. After
Dlamini (Captain), Lehlogonolo Mocke completing the Level One First Aid Course at the end of term
one, all were eager to use their newly obtained skills. At the end
Drama Club of term two we had four girls who exceeded all expectations and
complete the Level Three First Aid Course with distinction.
Drama queens! This is the only way to describe our club This year PHSG hosted the Inter-high Swimming Gala and a
members of 2010. Of course this is meant in the best way few girls had the privilege to work alongside the paramedics for
possible for the girls this year were vibrant, energetic and two days. During the Inter-house Athletics we again had the
creative; ever ready to plot a play, scheme up a skit or opportunity to work with the paramedics. We learnt a great deal
transform to a weird and wonderful alien. The club grew as from Gary and his team who were always willing to explain new
we learnt to incorporate music and dance to theatre, which First Aid techniques to us. Our thanks go to the parents for
proved to be an interesting task. Armed with make-up, hats, giving our girls the opportunity to do first aid. Out thanks also
drums and a burning passion for drama, we made this an go to the First Aid teachers who were always only a phone call
unforgettable year. All this could not be possible without Ms away and most of all, to Sister Tanya, for organising events for
Dugmore and Ms Russell. Drama Club is explosive because us and encouraging a good work ethic.
you are the bombs! There are not enough words to describe Amber Burnett (Grade 12)
our appreciation towards you. To the 2010 drama queens, if
you were all in a pool, you would sink because you rock! My FIRST AID
thanks go to Louisa for being an amazing deputy; my year
was unforgettable. Back Row (L-R): Hannah Ryan, Beatrix Erasmus, Inge-Mari Smedsrud, Simone
Ntombi Ngwenya (Grade 12) Maree, Koketso Ntlatleng, Daniella Ferguson, Alexandra Linley, Busi Ntisa, Azille
Schulze, Bronwyn Aspeling
Ecology Middle Row (L-R): Saneze Tshayana, Katy Godfrey, Michelle Zeller, Marie-Claire
van den Berg, Wilana Hattingh, Salma Sujee, Ying-ting Yen, Ingrid Lambert, Chansa
Chansa, Meghan Boyd
Front Row (L-R): Tiisetso Mathibedi, Lebo Sebolai, Amber Burnett, Sr T
Shenfield-Schwartz, Megan Steyn (Head), Kgothatso Kgosana, Boitumelo Masihlelo

115PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

HCluobusseasnd Societies

House Tutoring all the girls of PHSG – In the Limelight can only be as great as you
make it, so please participate and contribute! Thank you for
This society is exclusively for junior students who find learning, entrusting me with this worthy publication for the past two years.
in general, a great challenge. Our tutors are trained to help those It has been nothing but a privilege.
who are in need of their service and as house tutors we aim to Sofia Zway (Grade 12)
assist and guide our tutees so that they may reach their full
potential. It is in the best interest of the learner to attend her Museum
sessions diligently in order to make a success of her school career
and achieve well academically. These dedicated house tutors are While space remains the biggest challenge to the efficient
always prepared to help others and willingly spend their organisation and maintenance of the museum, the museum
afternoons explaining the relevant work as well as various study monitors worked hard this year to keep everything up to date.
techniques. With over thirty house tutors, many students who The girls set up various displays throughout the year to create an
are granted this opportunity may be served in this regard interest in the school's history and to encourage more girls to
Lauren Brooks (Grade 12) visit. The outing to Sammy Marks museum at the end of the year
was a fun and appropriate way to end the year. Thank you to all
In The Limelight the monitors for their enthusiasm and commitment.
Mrs B Cloete
“Writing comes more easily if you have something to say.”
Sholem Asch

LIMELIGHT REPORTERS MUSEUM MONITORS

Back Row (L-R): Busi Mahlangu, Neteske Horton, Nicole Camara, ABSENT: Tsholo Mamoliki, Bonolo Kgomo
Benedict Luposo, Abby van Niekerk, Tayla Calcott, Abbi du Preez Front Row (L-R): Shirneen Madhoo, Ramaredi Koikanyang, Shalom MaClean,
Middle Row (L-R): Raquel Jones, Kholofelo Mamabolo, Aye-Chan htun, Mrs B Cloete
Sibella Louw, Boitumelo Masihleho, Nonhle Skosana, Rachel Sola, Zaneta Boshoff
Front Row (L-R): Brynne Guthrie, Mrs J Cÿrus, Sofi Zway (Editor), Peer Counselling
Mr L Niemandt, Priyesha Gordhan
Over the past year the substantial growth of the Peer
The school's student-led newspaper, In the Limelight, has become Counselling group can only be described as an amazing
the end-of-term's most sought after read. In order to look more achievement. There was an increase in not only the activities
like a real newspaper, the layout of the Limelight was changed, done throughout the year, (which included a movie day, skit,
which also made it easier to read. We introduced a regular poetry, newcomers' party as well as the fun meetings held once a term)
prose and photography competition – the winners were but this contributed to an increase in the number of girls seeking
published in the Limelight and received a chocolate! We guidance from their fellow learners, which is our main aim as a
continued to publish the much-loved regulars such as The Peer Counselling group.
Paparazzi Page and the Iris Girl cartoon, but introduced a new Another new initiative that has been brought into the club is that
feature on local bands entitled AmaMusicians. In each edition, of reaching out to the girls in informing them what Peer
an up-and-coming South African band is interviewed and Counselling is all about. This new initiative is achieved by
reviewed in an effort to promote local music. This has so far sending the members of the group out onto the school grounds
been very popular. Each week, new faces were seen in our ever and giving them items such as quote cards and cupcakes and in
interesting meetings – a clear indication that there is a strong turn, enhancing the message that we do care. This growth would
team of journalists budding in the school. Of course none of not have been possible without the help of all the members of
the grammatical lessons learnt, general knowledge acquired and this club who give of themselves tirelessly to this group, as well as
writing skills gained would have been possible without the help Carole Godfrey, Elise de Kock and, of course, Mrs Godfrey who
and guidance of Mr Niemandt and Mrs Cÿrus. Over the past two always ensures that the girls are well trained and are there for
years, they have guided me and helped me to grow both as a anyone who may be in need of some help. I know that there are
person and as the editor. Thank you both so much! Thanks are clearly no more boundaries in terms of the growth of this group.
also due to my eager journos and my multi-talented sub-editor, Here's to a triumphant 2010.
Brynne, for making my job so enjoyable and that much easier. To Shannon Black (Grade 12)

116 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Clubs and Societies

Peer Tutoring Public Speaking

‘The best teachers teach from the heart, not from the book.’ -
Author Unknown
The Peer Tutoring Programme underwent serious changes this year.
The TLC Executive increased in size to ensure better distribution of
work. A change in the documentation system saw the programme
become more efficient and a zero-tolerance policy was implemented
with regard to tutors and tutees who did not meet their
requirements. Under the guidance of Ms Turpin , the TLC, Tutor
Leaders' Committee, grew in number and capability. Without this
group of girls, the entire system would not function correctly. We
were also very fortunate to acquire the services of various Tuks
students, many of them past PHSG students and tutors, to assist
Grades 8 and any girls who are at risk of failing Mathematics. These
compulsory tutoring sessions have been invaluable to all girls
involved. The Peer Tutoring Programme, itself, has been and
continues to be an invaluable asset to the school. I encourage all
girls in Grades 10, 11 and 12 to sign up to be tutors. You will reap the
benefits and you will be duly rewarded for your hard work. On that
note, I would like to thank Ms Turpin for being my guiding light and
my pillar of strength; my incredible deputy, Sherilyn Roelofse, for
her dedication and hugs; my outstanding team of TLC members for
the many hours of work, and my committed tutors for their big
hearts and their willingness to make a difference. Nothing that we
accomplished this year would have been possible without you.
Sofia Zway (Grade 12)

Photography Club

This year started off with a tremendous number of girls wanting to
join the club, but unfortunately we were only able to cater for fifteen
girls. For the girls who did make it into the club, it was a great
learning experience. We had the opportunity of having Natasha, a
graduate from TUT, with a degree in photography. Her new
outlook on photography gave the girls a more passionate approach
to the Art and we were able to produce vivid photos based on the
various themes covered in the year. After watching a PowerPoint
presentation, made by Natasha, in each session the girls had an exact
idea of what they had to do that day and were offered enough tips
and skills to implement in their photos which were then critiqued by
fellow pupils that following week.
Digital photography is ever-changing, allowing for continuous
innovation in different styles, techniques and ideas in representing
the world around us. It's this that the girls in Photography Club have
learnt and thus excelled into confident masters of photography.
Themes covered in the year: Still Life, Architecture, Landscapes,
Family Portraits, Self-portraits with water colour applications,
Photoshop editing.
There were no outings this year.
Competitions were provided and were optional for the girls to enter.
Nicole Dawson (Grade 12)

PUBLIC SPEAKING

Back Row (L-R): Rebecca Harle, Andrea Hattingh, Mia van Schalkwyk,
Nicci Lombard
Middle Row (L-R): Tumi Mokoana, Kirstin Sprenger de Rover, Isa van Zyl,
Ziyanda Nkonki, Erin Humphries, Hlogi Mohale
Front Row (L-R): Kelly Anthony, Morgan Miskin (Captain), Mr L Niemandt,
Remofilwe Mathebula, Zola Nzimande

117PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

CHluobusseasnd Societies

Pottery wonderful ladies and the hard working teachers that all this
comes together (in one piece hopefully). 2010 has been a
The relationship between food and Girls' High girls is not a matter crazy, enjoyable, rollercoaster of an adventure and 2011 will
of life and death; it's much more important than that. This special definitely have more excitement in store.
bond has even managed to make its way into the pottery studio this Kelly-Jane Williams (Grade 11)
year. Our group of naturally talented girls managed to produce an
abundance of beautiful artworks this year, including a collection
of delightful cupcakes for the annual art exhibition as well as some
fantastic and gruesome pies boasting fingers and eyeballs which
wouldn't be out of place on a Sweeney Todd set. The pottery
family has bulged to full capacity this year, including familiar faces
and bright new personalities. It has been a wonderful experience
getting to know each other over the weekly ritual of answering
questions to take register. The girls gave everyone a pleasant
surprise with the high quality of pots produced when they took to
the pottery wheels as if they had been there for years. Pottery Club
is always full of smiles and laughs and wouldn't work nearly as well
or be as fantastic as it is without the always helpful Mrs Greenberg
and my wonderful deputy, Rebecca Joubert. Thank you both.
Eleanor Harding (Grade 12)

Science Students’ Christian Association

Explosive adventure is one way to describe the happenings in Lab 2010 has been quite an eventful year for the SCA. Starting off
33 every Tuesday afternoon. For Mrs Mjadu, Mrs Rahman and with a soul-moving camp filled with God's mighty power and
myself, Science Club is a bit more heart-racing with eyes constantly much prayer, the girls and committee members met with God
like a hawk's and a fire extinguisher in hand (for the certain pyros on a whole new level. Much growth occurred at our
we have). With the many new and inquisitive students joining is Wednesday afternoon sessions, with open chat time, small
this year, Science Club has really become a place where fun and group time and worship and talks which were presented by
work go hand in hand. From the infamous “Goo” that was created various guests and students. Topics that were addressed
at the Grade 7’s Open Day to making fun explosives, every Tuesday throughout the year include: love, grace, humility, unity in the
it was an adventure in itself. With experiments in hand, lab coats body of Christ, God's plan for our lives and relationships. The
on and a sense of curiosity in Lab 33 it becomes the playground for SCA group has grown in vast numbers over the past year,
our future scientists and a classroom is reborn (one where learning reaching approximately two hundred members.
is fun and science is easy to comprehend). And it is thanks to the SCA is building strong relationships with the four schools on a
spiritual level and hope to, over the years, achieve great things.
The committee's motto matches its name: Serving Christ
Always. We trust that the seeds God has allowed us to plant in
the lives of others will blossom. With God as the wind in our
sails, we press on to take the SCA over wider seas each year.
Lauren Hudson (Grade 12)

118 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Clubs and Societies

STUDENT CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION

ABSENT: Majorie Abatan
Back Row (L-R): Kelly-Jane Williams, Nompi Mkatshwa, Ona Botha,
Taryn O'Brien
Middle Row (L-R): Lebo Sebolai, Andisiwe Kumbaca, Netéske Horton,
Samantha Rogers, Yentel le Roux, Hloni Matlebyane
Front Row (L-R): Deborah Ndala, Sammy van Niekerk, Ruthanne Harbour,
Mrs S Harbour, Lauren Hudson (Head), Kendall Harbour, Carole Godfrey

Student Inter-cultural Club

The Student Inter-Cultural Club or SICC brings learners of
different cultures together which highlights South Africa's diversity.
The SICC had an exciting and vibrant year. The learners started off
with the annual SICC fashion show and the theme was the 2010
World Cup. The theme, which showcased colourful vuvuzelas
along the ramp and the diski dance, received a positive response
from the audience. Performances included dances such as hip-hop,
Indian and Gumboots' poetry pieces and singing. The SICC dance
group then teamed up with selected models for the Spring Fair
Fashion Show in September. The girls' efforts were evident from
their magnificent dances and they evidently enjoyed the experience.
The combined Indian and African dance to the song “Waka Waka”
was a lovely piece which underlined all that SICC stands for.
We wish the girls success in the years to come and we would also like
to thank Mrs Dowlath and Mrs Mjadu for all their efforts.
Reabetswe Motsamai and Kavisha Behari (Grade 12)

Yoga

Each Wednesday afternoon, without fail, girls gather in the gym for
an hour of Hatha Yoga, which relaxes and rejuvenates them. This
year our group started off quite large but as the year progressed, the
group grew smaller. Having a small group is beneficial to the girls
because the group is easier to work with and the calm, relaxing
atmosphere is achieved.
Our yoga sessions consist of gentle breathing exercises, directed by
the calming voice of Ms Russell, then into simple core exercises
such as the cobra, the curling leaf, cat stretches and the crocodile.
At the end of each session we meditate for about five minutes.
Here we are able to clear our minds in the much needed silence, after
which we do the corpse where we have a final go at relieving the
stress of each muscle in the body, starting from the toes, all the way
to your jaw.
Often we get caught up in the hustle and the bustle of our daily lives
and yoga helps to lighten the load and relieve the stress in our
bodies.
Without the dedication and sheer commitment of Ms Russell none
of this would ever be possible. Our thanks go to her for all she has
given this year.
Natalie van Niekerk (Grade 12)

119PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: English

C reativEeWnglrisihting

If I make it through the night through the night, it would be a miracle. Shivers went down my
spine as the doctor explained euthanasia as an option to my
The bright, naked florescent lights flashed above me as I was parents.
hurriedly wheeled into the white corridors of the hospital. My I felt warm sunlight against my arms and suddenly realised that it
mind reeled with the onslaught of brighter lights and shiny, was my dad’s birthday, and that I had promised mum that I would
metallic equipment as we entered the hospital emergency unit. It be at my dad’s side while he blew out the candles. In desperation,
was as though I was watching a movie, starring academy award I summoned my innermost strengths and desires and felt my
winner, Thilashni Moodley in the lead role. hands, at first gently and then with greater vigour, squeezing my
I felt my clothes being ripped and torn into tatters and I tried in mum’s hand.
vain to hide my modesty, but my limbs felt like molten lead. I That morning, the doctors declared me out of danger, stable and
found to my horror I had no control of my body’s reflexes. I on my way to recover. I had made it through that dreadful night
clutched and grasped at parts of the conversation that were and defeated the grim reaper himself.
hurled around me. “Dreadful accident”, “Poor soul”, Thilashni Moodley (Grade 11)
“Paramedics said that the car is a wreck, nearly lost her at the
scene”. I must have dozed off. Disco Dance Hottie (A short story)
The cool breeze whispered through my hair as I sped through the
winding mountain pass. The pale, waning moon hurtled through Music dance lights
the star- studded sky, trying in vain to overtake my speeding ‘Hey, hottie at 12 o’clock’ says Kim bouncing up and down to the
convertible, a birthday gift from my dad. My headlights cut a music
wide path through the darkness, and I reached down to replace flushed. I take a quick look back
my disk in my radio. Pondering over the choice of music to ‘OMG! he is totally coming this way’ she gasps
reload, I failed to see a large cow standing in the middle of the I feel his hands on my hips, his breath on my ear.
road, until it was too late. I steered my car to the right and I was ‘Can we dance?’ His voice is so sexy
thrown off the road, crashing into a huge oak tree ... I turn around ... MY BROTHER??
I was jerked back to my current state by screams of “We are Kim Goldenberg and Mmakhotso Lamola (Grade 11)
losing her. Get help!” My body convulsed as voltage surged
through my frail body. Dimly I heard a voice declare that I was in The Phone Call (A short story)
a coma.
I was aware of my mum in tears and my dad with anguish written Mystery man: Hello?
all over his face. I heard the doctor explain to my parents that I
was in a very critical condition, in a coma and that if I made it Caller: It’s me ...

Devi Pillay Grade 12 Mystery man: Yes?

120 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris Caller: I’ve got the money.

Mystery man: How much?

Caller: The amount that we agreed on.

Mystery man: That’s great.

Caller: Don’t forget the stash. I prefer the hardcore

stuff and make sure it’s genuine.

Mystery man: Okay ...

Caller: Be careful the cops don’t follow you!

Mystery man: I’m sorry?

Caller: Don’t chicken out now, the damage is done!

Meet me at the Hillbrow Train Station.

Mystery man: No, I’m really sorry ...

Caller: For what?!

Mystery man: I think you have the wrong number ...

Letisha Jungbahadur, Claudio Basilio, Azille Schulze, Zubaidah Adams

(Grade 11)

Viewpoint: English

The written word trees breathing in an out, in and out, ever so slowly. You hear the
crickets and the lively birds, the fluffy brown squirrels and the
If I could find a land made of the written word, spotty green frogs, all talking to each. You can hear the earth
Perhaps similar to Fenoglio’s inkworld, speaking to you. If you really listen, like me.
I would swap destinies at any time, When I sit still, I smell the sweetness of the colourful flowers,
For that would be a place of joy and rhyme. dotted all around. The dampness of the wet plants, just after a
I would join Bilbo and Frodo and Gandalf too, refreshing rain. I can see small squirrels scampering about and
And travel to places old and new. blue and black butterflies flittering as if they are dancing to the
My mind and heart would never rest, earth’s song.
And my bravery would be put to the test. I stroke my soft hand over a small brown rock. It is cold as ice, but
I’d swing from vines of varying thickness fuzzy too, from the light green moss. I feel the leaves of all the
And wipe away all earth’s bleakness. different plants, each one green, yet each one unique. Some are
I’d fight dragons with metallic scales hard, some very soft. Many are light green, some so dark, they
And banish demons who steal kids’ ginger ales. almost look black. Some enormous, some as little as my pinky
I’d even conquer Lord Voldemort nail.
And destroy the evil things he sought. When I sit here, alone and very still. I think of nothing but the
I’d help Snowball win his brave campaign earth and the breath-taking forest. I feel that thick wave of calm
And even make the hydra tame. wash over me and I feel the sun’s light, the golden glow on me. I
I’d solve Holmes’ cases in the blink of an eye see the little red and black ladybug fly and all the animals going
And I’d find out why the Baudelaire’s parents had to die. about their busy lives. I hear the earth sing and speak to me.
I’d learn how to say Dracula’s first name When I’m in my secret hiding place, I truly believe that the whole
And find out what happens to Valkyrie Cain. earth, the whole universe, is connected to me.
I’ll make sure the Excalibur and Josh unite Ceinwen Rikkers (Grade 9)
And that Vanhelsing succeeds in his plight.
These are but a few of the things I would do What are little girls made of?
If the world of ink was as substantial as me or you.
If I could find a land made of the written word, Grandma gets story books for free at the charity shop. I read in
I’d grab it with both hands and replace it with this world. one of them that little girls are made of sugar and spice and all
Sharon Ellman (Grade 8) things nice. Maybe that is true. Grandma tells me that I am like
an apple – fresh and full of good things like vitamins and laughter.
My secret hiding place Grandma always buys apples and places them in a red bowl. Each
apple is surrounded by apple friends. We give some apples to our
I go there when I feel sad or lonely. I go there when my heart friends. The remaining apples are not lonely because grandma
feels like a heavy rock or I have got butterflies in my tummy. I go buys new apples and places them in the bowl.
there when I feel so happy my wide smile feels as if it reaches my My mommy and daddy work somewhere far away to earn money.
crinkly blue eyes. It makes me feel calm. But grandma says they will always return and fill up my life like the
I have been going to my lush, green forest for just over a year now. bowl of apples that is never empty.
It is such a velvety green that I feel as if I can lie down and sleep so Our shack home is small and neat and painted in bright colours.
soundly. Like a baby. Forever. There are tall trees all around me. Our walls are plastered with the labels of Lucky Star, Inkomazi
Their bark is a rich brown, covered all the way to the top with and Koo. We buy our apples from the trader on the corner. He
patches of soft, light green moss. Their branches stick out like a sells tomatoes, bananas, vegetables, raisins and sugar. Grandma
scarecrow’s arms, yet they shade me like the best of umbrellas. uses these ingredients to cook our meals in our kitchen, behind
There are patches in the heavy canopy so high, where the crystal the bed sheet with red roses. I am made of all Grandma’s home
blue sky can be seen. cooked meals, mixed with love.
When I lie on the soft ground, bright flowers all around me, I feel Our home is filled with colours of the traders’ wares. Grandma
as if there is nothing but me and the giant world. If I lie there at uses small coloured beads to make necklaces and bracelets which
night, when the air around me is like a heavy black velvet blanket, she sells to the tourists for money. The coloured beads are part of
I can see into the universe’s soul. The twinkling stars, dancing our home and part of us.
around like fairies make me giggle like a little girl, enchanting my People throw away beautiful things like old clocks, pans, tins,
thoughts. bottles and posters. We recycle them (a big word which Grandma
When I explore this magnificent green world, I always end up uses) and we use them to make our homes beautiful – like the red
picking many gorgeous flowers. There are pale blue ones that flowers that grow behind Dumisani Xhakaza’s shack. I was born
look like church bells and red ones that look like the Red Queen’s on the old sofa from where one can see the flowers.
roses. The bright yellow and white daisies dance in the light Grandma sings in the kitchen next to the poster of Jesus on the
breeze, and the orange flowers seem to glow in the sun’s warm, wall, who points to the apple shaped red heart in his chest.
golden light. There are little purple flowers, too. Their silky Sundays we go to church and sing and clap our hands. That is
petals are long and defined, but are nothing compared to my when Jesus in the poster smiles most. Afterwards Grandma feeds
favourite flower in my favourite hide-away. The rainbow flower lots of people. She cooks bread with milk and eggs, mixed with
has long, oval petals, and each one is a different, amazingly bright apples, spices, sugar and raisins. It tastes so delicious that I know
colour. I try my best not to pick three gentle flowers, I believe why my name is Nandi, which means to taste nice and to be nice.
they are homes to dainty fairies ... My friends want work in the city but I want to own a farm where
If you are very quiet, you can hear the sound of the gentle breeze apple trees grow in rows and rows and the air is always fresh. I
lightly moving all the plants. You can hear the feint trickling of a will always be able to smell that apple smell and think of
small brook not far off. If you really listen hard, you can hear the
121PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: English

Grandma’s home and her love. To dig up the diamonds dug deep.
Grandma tells me I shall always be happy because life is like an Deep in the soil, with no one to spoil,
apple. Sometimes it tastes a little sour. You can spit out the pips They lie in the darkness and weep.
if you don’t like them. Yet most times it is sweet and it always has
a core of hope, friendship and love. I am only four, but I know Now the diamonds you’ve got,
that that is what little girls are made of. Time to depart,
Gemma-May Grotepass (Grade 9) And please the Jack and the Heart.

Misunderstood You have them all, the hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs
And you’ve joined a club without bars and pubs
Nadia sobbed silently as she stared blankly at the paper in her Now your perfect hand is clean,
hand. Memories of what happened burnt fresh in her memory. A new deck is dealt and a victory you have been.
A pang of guilt pierced her heart. If only she had stopped in
time ... The battle is done
Thabang was lying on what felt like gravel. Cold, compact The war is won
gravel. He lifted his head to relieve himself of the prickly And an addiction you have overcome.
sensation. He opened his eyes, his vision slightly blurred. It was Tarryn Doherty (Grade 9)
dark yet he could make out so much of what he saw: trees, open
grassland. A chill ran down his spine. Feeling light-headed, he Assembly Adrenaline
tried to get up, but couldn’t. His foot was stuck.
He lay on the gravel-like surface, defeated. Recollection of the There is silence, except for the pounding in my chest. I wait in
argument that took place between his parents and himself eager anticipation to see if they’ll call my unpronounceable
replayed in his head like a black and white movie. name. Suddenly, hard, round objects push into my pale skin,
“Thabang, take responsibility and stop acting your shoe size!” his nudging me up. I stand and find myself surrounded by a sea
mother yelled at him. Getting reprimanded daily was nothing of green. I pick my way through the swarming and thundering
new to Thabang. hands, until I reach the door. The entrance to a dark abyss.
Then there was a distinctive sound. A din that was strangely I breathe in the cold, crisp air as it stings my eyes and dulls my
familiar. The noise got louder and louder. Whatever it was, it rosy cheeks. I walk quickly towards the stairs, wiping my
was approaching fast. clammy hands against the emerald cotton enveloping me.
Besides all the animosity he had towards his parents, he was I look up and see the gleaming Zizi, a light at the end of the
somewhat blissful. He was fortunate to have Nadia as a friend. tunnel. I look nervously into the shining eyes of a kind face,
At least she understood. congratulating me. My hands feel icy against the fiery warmth
He then saw himself on a stretch of road experiencing what felt of Mrs McNair’s. I hold my trembling hand out and feel the
like an outer body experience ... dead weight of a badge pressed into it.
Thabang now became aware of his surroundings. He was in the Like a thousand mile-high waterfall, realisation crashes down
middle of a freeway. His foot was lodged in a pothole. He on me. I have made it. All the hard work and dedication has
desperately tried to free his foot - a futile mission, and oblivious paid off. I can smell the sweet odour of success, raining down
to the pleas in his head, screaming to him to get up and run. The on me like a thunderstorm.
din got louder. The approaching vehicle was close. Then he was Siobhan Hall (Grade 10)
blinded by headlights ...
Nadia glanced at her reflection in her pocket-mirror. Her eyes What became of you?
were sunken, her face drained of its glowing complexion. She
then proceeded to place Thabang’s obituary in her diary, the taste Wide-eyed, heart beating, the stench of fear pervading the air
of alcohol from that dreadful night, bitter in her mouth. around him. Abraham hides in the shadows, shooting
Itumeleng Thokwane (Grade 9) piercing glances into the night around him.
“Have they found me?” he wonders. “Is it over?”
You Hold the Cards “No,” whispers the night surrounding him, “it is not over yet.
Run a little further, a little faster.”
With a handful of nothing but clubs Abraham forces his wasted body up and runs through the
You linger on which to join. dark. Sheer hope and desperation are the only things stopping
Will it be bars or will it be pubs him from falling to the ground and giving in. Every few
Or will it earn you more coins? hundred feet he stops, pushing himself into the darkness,
stopping in the shadows. It would not help, he knew, not if
Kings and Queens, you have them all they used the dogs. But – maybe, maybe he could make it.
But the Jack is the one who still stands tall. The fence, now. Cruel barbed wire stretching as far as the eye
Tall and alone, he’s the one you don’t own could see. And high – so very high. But Abraham had been
And the one to whom you are prone. prepared for this by the prison guard who had no hatred in his
soul, only regret. Someday the guard would be discovered, but
To win the Jack not yet, Abraham hoped. He began edging up the fence inch
The system you must hack, by inch, only the gloves and shoes he had been given stopping
To gather all the spades him from ripping his flesh. He would not cry out. He had
endured greater pain than this.
The spades you see, Over the fence now, Abraham ran with reckless abandon,
Will help you on your journey knowing that any minute now, any second, the alarm would

122 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris Background artwork: Monica Blignaut Grade 10

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Janine Engelbrecht Grade 10 Roxanne Brasler Grade 10 Janine Engelbrecht Grade 10

sound and the sleeping guards would awaken. Up ahead, fit into society for one night. It’s time to choose an outfit.
Abraham saw the town hall rushing at him through the dark. The obvious choice is jeans and a plain t-shirt, but that’s far too
He slipped inside for a moment. dull. I like to make a statement when I walk into a room but I’ve
“A rest, a second and they will not look for me here!” just never been good at fashion to do so. The solution, you’d
Looking up, Abraham meets the gaze of the Führer, staring think, would be to wear a printed shirt that best reflects me.
proudly from the poster on the back wall. That would solve all my problems, if there wasn’t always
“Why?” he whispers. “Why do you hate me so? We are not so someone who took offense at something. People get mad
different.” when your opinion disagrees with theirs, especially a teenager.
Recalling his plight, Abraham rushes through the streets, hiding Take, for example, a sports shirt. I like it because I support the
in the shadows and feeling the every present threat of pursuit. team, but there will be people who take supporting too far and
He pauses, listening, and his face pales. Alarms. They have ostracise you for NOT supporting THEIR team. Printed
realised. Rushing ever faster, pushing his tired body harder, shirts are, therefore, out of the question.
Abraham runs, not even realising how his feet and clothes The logical thing would be to find something expressive to
become ever more ragged and torn. He must reach the cover up my bottom half. Jeans have become far too
rendezvous in time. He has to. commonplace for my liking and I don’t fancy torturing myself
Abraham can hear the steady thumping of boots and the to fit into a pair of “skinnies”. A skirt is sounding like a solid
occasional barking of dogs as the Nazi guards come ever closer. solution at this point. A mini-skirt is far too revealing, (if it’s
There! In the distance he sees a camouflage van revving up its not on the menu, keep it covered) and full-length skirts just
engines. Will he get there in time? aren’t accepted as “in fashion” right now. I would wear a dress,
Feet pounding in the dust, Abraham runs as he has never run but I refuse to carry a handbag because of the lack of pockets!
before. Nazi bullets hit the dirt around his feet. As Abraham I get headaches trying to satisfy all the criteria to look good, and
reaches the van and dives inside, the remainder of the prison that’s excluding hair and make-up possibilities! Society has
guards reach the scene. created a lot for us to choose from, but not all of it is cool. I
As the van speeds off into the distance, one guard smiles inside. wish Adam and Eve had never eaten that apple, because my
Captain Klaus Müller thinks of Abraham’s future with hope. school uniform is looking pretty good right now.
“What will become of you?” he wonders silently as he marches Megan Marshall (Grade 10)
back to Majdanek.
Katy Godfrey (Grade 10) When winter comes and days turn colder

What we wear It’s here again, June. The winter season is always the same. It
never fails to come or to go. It’s constant and loyal. I look out
My eyes are firmly locked on hers, daring her to blink first. I of my window on to the grass. A white blanket of frost is just
know it’s in vain, as she stares me down by sizing me up. Those beginning to melt away. I focus my eyes on the window closer
captivating eyes, so round and glossy, perfect in every way. A to me. The icy layer that surrounds it is threatening to pull
reminder that I’ll never be like her. tighter and crush the glass that it holds. The sky outside is dark
Some of these posters really have to go, before even my brilliant and menacing. It shadows everything beneath it. Nothing is
mind surrenders to the easy excuse that what’s in the media is different. It’s the same: a cold winter’s morning.
what should be on me. No, thank-you. It’s time to focus on the Downstairs, the smell of coffee automatically leads my body to
task at hand. That dreaded time of the week has arrived – the kitchen. My cup of filter coffee stands there on our
Friday afternoon. It’s not the start of the weekend or a pleasant wooden table. Mum must be up by now. The first sip is always
break from school; it’s the time when I face my biggest fear: to the hardest. I can feel it as it burns my throat and eventually

123PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

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warms up my stomach. Now, all of a sudden, everything that Kirsten Forster Grade 12
keeps my body warm is noticeable. My huge, fluffy slippers trap
any heat available in order to keep my toes from freezing. Someone who will travel further into this palace
The sun has now settled in its spot for the first half of the day. And gently kiss awake
There’s a knock on the door. It’s Ben. Finally. As the front door
opens, the cold air rushes into the house sending a shiver down Sleeping Beauty.
my spine. Ben takes a few steps closer to me and I can feel my Katy Godfrey (Grade 10)
cheeks warming up. Ben and I have been together for four years.
He is in matric this year. He hugs me and my heart thaws for the The Chosen Few
first time today.
As we lie on our old, broken couch, he keeps me warm and I can I’m in control – the walls no longer scream. I came home with
feel his arms tighten around me. He is my security. When he the Iron Cross replacing the pupils of my eyes, the White Cliffs
holds me, my sense of fear and anxiety disappears. of Dover etched in my memory, French burning on my tongue. I
We have decided to watch some of our favourite movies, all day. came home choking on the claustrophobia of my ambivalence –
I lay there wishing Ben could be my winter. So constant and to be noble or to be cruel. I came home... but I was never really
loyal. Never failing to come and go. About two weeks ago, Ben home. I left my soul there, maybe even my heart; I felt my sanity.
told me that he would have to leave for university, overseas. My wife ... my wife was still home – she waited.
Ben has to leave earlier, because the university’s term starts in The walls used to scream and the beds boasted chains and the
three weeks. He’s leaving tomorrow. Wow, I am going to miss people spoke a dialect of English I had never learnt. Am I really
these days. We made a deal that I would not go with him to the home? The poppies scared me; haunted me. Poppies. Opium
airport. By tomorrow this time, he will be gone and he will have for the masses. Happiness. Stems growing up, brandishing
taken four years of my life with him. My mom says I shouldn’t happiness. Roots constrict, attack, break, penetrate the bones of
worry because there are many fish in the sea, but I just don’t my friends: cadavers for someone to learn from, an
think that she gets it. We’re ‘young’ and ‘immature’ is all she says inconvenience for those who never learnt. I’m in control. I still
these days. Well, that’s rich, coming from a woman who has been see the poppies; they still smell as sweet. Poppies.
married four times! ‘Get down!’ I heard him say. He sat on my bed in a room with no
As we lie, watching movies, the hours tick by slowly and that’s windows. He wore my clothes in a room of white walls. He stole
okay with me. I am going to miss the way he wipes my tears away my voice, my thoughts and my memories in a room where I sat
or holds my frozen hands until they warm up. I am going to miss alone. I’m in control. ‘I’m in control.’ he repeated. I’m in
the way we sit with each other for hours and don’t say a single control. My boots were heavy – my bare feet could no longer lift
word. It’s strange when life hands you something that cannot be them. My chest was being crushed under the weight of
constant, no matter what you do. ammunition they had long since removed from my body. The
It’s a quiet winter’s evening as the hour emerges. The front door dog tags still burnt into my skin. #714 11 649bv. How will I
opens and the cold air swoops into the house. The last touch of forget my code? I am just a zero in the binary of which we are all
his fingertips removes any warmth left in my body. This time made. But I am in control.
there is nothing to protect me from the icy bite of winter. My I was in control when I wrote. I was in control as letters left me
heart freezes for a few seconds again and I realise that he has and were quickly replaced with shells. Shells of people, shells of
taken all of my warmth with him. All I am left with is the bullets, shells of bombs. They made the macabre bouquet of my
constant and loyal winter outside. survival. God. Where was God? By the end of the first year, I
Caily Jonck (Grade 10) no longer believed in God: I was in control. Where was God?
I lost the feeling of fear. I lost feeling altogether. I killed men. I
Sleeping Beauty killed men my own age. I killed brothers, lovers, husbands,
fathers. Fathers ... No, I won’t become sentimental! I will not
Water drips in the kitchen sink lose my mind; I will not lose control! I will not allow myself to be
Dust settles thickly over everything lost as those who I was trained to hide eternally. I am in control.
Spiderwebs encrust the corners The walls no longer scream, but I do. The chains no longer glare

Run your fingers over the sideboard
Grimace at the dirt that adheres
Open the curtains
Shed light into the room ...

Something sends you away.
Is it neglect, a ghostly feeling or loss of need?
Do you not know how long I have waited for this?

The door creaks as it shuts behind you
Like a groan of wanting.
Will you come back?
No ... You did not fit.

I shall wait another 100 years
For someone who will wake me

124 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

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abusively from my bed, but now my arms are held to my body by Some people might find this satisfactory. After all, the more
material, by a jacket, by links. The poppies still feed me ... the people die, the more oil or land they get.
poppies are in the needles that keep me quiet. My wife has been But not me. This is not what I feel, not what I want to write
replaced by the nurses who wipe me down. The doctors are the about. I think I’ll skim over this option.
enemy. France is the enemy, Germany is the enemy. They cannot I might want to write about nature. I could write about plants
be trusted. I cannot be trusted. They will know that I am no and green fields. I could write about the seasons slowly
longer in control ... changing; summer becoming hotter and winter becoming
The walls no longer scream, harsher. Maybe I could write about the weather, about how
tender saplings and flowers wither and melt into slop as the
but I do. falling rain burns them in acid. I could write about animals that
Danielle Millar (Grade 11) will be gone from this planet by the time I leave it too.
But no, I don’t want to write about this. I’m getting a bit bored
Prose with hearing about mankind’s crimes. I have to listen to it all the
time at school and I see adverts in magazines. Everybody’s
I’ve been asked to write a poem. About what? Poetry should talking about it, but not many are really doing anything about it.
come from the heart, they said, so write about anything that This confuses me a bit. I tend to avoid subjects that confuse me,
makes you feel. so I’ll choose another topic.
Alright. Maybe I could write about death. Death is interesting,
So, what do I feel. What’s in my heart? I have a lot of topics to something that people like to speculate about. I would write
choose from, so this should be easy. about a father whom death held hostage. His wife and children
A poet’s favourite is love. Love is so magical and it has many put up ‘missing’ posters for years after he disappeared, but death
aspects. One could write about falling in love, being in love or never had the mercy to reunite them. Strangely, enough, death
losing love. I could write about one of those ... does sometimes show kindness to those with whom it keeps
But wait a moment. I don’t have any of those things in my life company. Many elderly murderers have calmly lain asleep in
and I can’t write about something of which I have no experience their beds when death finally and gently welcomed them.
or no idea. That would be inventing someone else’s story. I’ll Unjust, I suppose, but I guess that what is meant to happen, will
have to choose something else. happen. I have accepted this, and although I do not anticipate it,
I could write about war. People like to read about the misery of I do not fear death. I don’t think I want to write a poem about it;
other people; they need others to feel pain in order for them to death isn’t something that’s worth dwelling on.
realise that they should be happy. People also enjoy Oh dear. Choosing a topic is rather difficult. I can’t think of
sensationalism, so I could put a few gory details into my poem. anything else. I have nothing, I feel nothing ...
How about the blood of a woman splattering across the window Hang on! I’ll write about that! Nothing. Nothing is where we
as the bomb that the neighbours planted in her kitchen explodes? came from, and I guess that’s where we’re going. It is what
millions have, and what many achieve in life. It’s what we’ll be
Vanessa Frazao Grade 11 left with eventually, at the rate at which we are killing each other.
And finally, in the greater scheme of things, I suppose it’s what
we are.
Li-Bonné Swart (Grade 11)

A room, a wall, and a little bit of flu
medicine

I remember falling. A dark tunnel enveloping me, with the sides
scratching at my face and knees and elbows and arms. I
remember the tunnel swerving like a train turning corners. I
remember falling, and landing.
Pain- there was lots of pain; nausea too. I always got nauseous
fairly easily. The light was blinding and even as I lay on the hard
floor, groaning, I could still see the light through my eyelids. I
cursed through my teeth as bile rose in my throat. Ah, the
wonders of the human anatomy! Nothing is more fulfilling than
seeing the half-digested contents of one’s stomach. I rolled onto
my back and wiped my mouth on my shirtsleeve, taking in my
surroundings. I knew I was in a room because I puked on a
laminated floor, but the ceiling ... it was an open sky with a very
bright, white sun. Curious, I got up after a few moments of
deliberation and self-motivation.
I was in a room. I knew this because I could see the white walls
and the white floor. There was a ceiling too, although there
wasn’t so much light as a sun. No furniture, only a medium sized,
white, very empty room. Feeling a little bit disappointed, I
walked around the room with my hand trailing on the walls.

125PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

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I walked for a while, trying to get steady on my feet again, as I was considered in our society.
still a little dizzy. My hand trailed after me and I revelled in the Irrespective of race, class or gender, people value life – not only
tickling sensation that was left on my fingers when I lifted my their own but the lives of others. It is beyond most of us even to
hand. I noticed a section of the wall that felt to be of a different consider the act of taking a life. While most just accept this, it is
texture than the others. Feeling bored, I amused myself by worth inspecting a bit further: people value the idea of life
picking at the paint that seemed older than the rest. The little because it is all we know. Society has implemented a system
patch that I created grew until it was about as big as my hand. I whereby all people are afforded certain basic rights; rights that
looked around the room again and felt the anger rising. Stupid enable us to live a decent life. If your ability to live is taken away
room, I didn’t know what kind of a place this was, but it was then it is impossible to exercise any right and as rights have a
stupid and I didn’t like it. Naturally, to express myself, I punched direct correlation to quality of life, people believe that taking life,
the patch. as well as all the rights it allows, diminishes a person’s quality of
There was a satisfying ‘crack’. I punched again, and again, and life and is thus morally deplorable.
again. Nursing my bruised knuckles, I inspected my handiwork What that analysis does not deal with is the element of choice and
with a sense of accomplishment. I had turned my patch into a the fact that happiness is not confined to legal rights. The
hole. The wall was only a kind of hard cardboard and using both remarkable South African Constitution allows the average person
my hands, I managed to tear chunks off until a large enough to lead a decent life; the problem comes in when this legislation is
space was made for me to climb through. forced on people who fall outside the contextual bracket of
I climbed into my own room ... there I was, sleeping in my bed, ‘normal’. The only case where this really applies is in medicine; it
wearing those weird purple-teddy PJ’s that I’ve had since forever. is not uncommon to find people filling up hospitals when there is
I walked up to myself, poked myself between the eyes ... and nothing to be done for them. Yes, they get food, water, shelter,
woke up. That was very strange. freedom and all those constitutionally respected things but
Anelia de Waal (Grade 11) because of the limiting nature of their illness, they often are not
even able to execute these rights. The aim of any right is to
“Fair is Foul ...” improve people’s lives, but if the right to live means that you have
to remain in constant pain or be ignorant of your surroundings
Fair is foul and foul is fair; because of the pain relief that is offered to you, does it really fulfil
an ‘innocent’ shock of hair that aim?
falls across windows of deception, The right to life also infringes on a person’s choice. As people are
hiding the comfort zone of sin. free, rational agents, we value choice as it determines what
happens to us as individuals. Should we not respect terminally ill
Smirk, lure, grin, draw in, patients’ right to choose to execute their right to life?
fall, plunge, plummet, sink in. Seeing as quality of life is paramount in this situation, it is easy to
Racing at your fragility, the ground: see that allowing people to choose whether or not they want to
smash, crumple, sickening sound. live actually affords them more rights than forcing them to stay
alive just because society is unsure of the consequence of death.
The soft and welcoming feather bed ...? For this policy to be acceptable, it must not just be morally
Where is the concrete you have not yet fed? acceptable but practically possible too. The biggest flaw with this
idea is that it is open to abuse. Here we must split the patients into
Cloud of comfort? two groups: patients who can still consent to it and patients who
From whom did it assert? can’t. The act of euthanasia would obviously require the consent
of the person involved. If the patient is of sound, rational mind,
His arms, strong, then one can decide and exercise one’s right to a choice. This
your body, weak. ideal situation could be compromised through family members
In this moment you long who are tired of taking care of the person or whom have financial
to hear his heart speak. obligations. This would lead to coercion. Even though the
person is rational, if one is influenced one’s decision is
A direct line to his beating truth, compromised. While this is the case, I still believe it is fair. All we
no curtains to obscure want is for the patient to have the choice he or she deserves. If
the feelings that do you soothe, appeasing family members is incentive enough to allow for one’s
for they are uncovered and pure. life to be taken away then you feel it is still a fair and rational choice
because it is the best option in their minds.
In your closeness, you have little care If the patients themselves are unable to make the decision then it
because fair is foul and foul is fair. is left up to his or her loved ones; this is what is happening in the
Jolandi Swanepoel (Grade 11) status quo. While this too is open to abuse, there is no better way
to implement any medical policy. If the patients are not rational
The sheer beauty of death then their choices cannot be legitimate and the choice needs to be
handed over to people we assume have the patient’s best interests
The act of living is often seen as not only a right, but a gift: each at heart. Keeping people alive in the absence of rational thinking
day presents us with the beauty of the world and its people. This rests on the assumption that living in pain is better than dying,
intrinsic joy that fuels us is so intertwined with the definition of which I’ve already proven is not generally the case.
life that I believe it has become it. While philosophically this Having looked at whether or not euthanasia should be
feels right, are we humanly able to implement it? Can we implemented, as well as if it can work, we must conclude that in
legitimately make the distinction between life and quality of life
and act on it? I think we can and thus euthanasia should be Background artwork: Kylie Bartosz Grade 11

126 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

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order to adhere to the real definition of life – that it is about At the coast; the waves crash, bringing with them their deliciously
quality and not quantity – we must at least allow people in dire salty aroma, your mind and soul are cleansed. And after the
circumstances to have the choice of exercising the right to life. glorious sunsets, that locals become used to and take for granted,
In order to uphold the sheer beauty of life it is necessary to you can witness sorcery at work. Harbour lights, light houses, fog
acknowledge that sometimes death needs to share in this beauty lights and boat lights play on the horizon like specks of fairy dust
too. or remnants of the magic spells that give the sea its tranquillity
Jolandi Swanepoel (Grade 11) and relaxing qualities. Man has added his own flare, own spark to
the environment that has made it all the more beautiful.
The sheer beauty of it As you move inland along snakes of highway, nature greets you.
Rows of sunflowers point towards the sun, pointing you in the
Contrast. Life is made up of contrast. Contrasting views and direction of warmth and happiness, all the while giving you a
ideals which evoke thought and debate. Contrasting races and standing ovation as you pass. Contrast. Contrast as cars rush by,
genders which emphasise each other’s strong points. However, shaking the grass, fulfilling the role of the wind. When the wind
it is the contrast between what is man-made and what is natural itself resumes this role and blows gently through the fields of
that is most pronounced and shows the shear beauty of it. It? wheat, a soft tune plays. This natural sound amalgamates with
What is it? It is life …. the distant chords of a farmer, strumming on his old guitar. We
The bright blue canvas that is the sky, houses moving artworks. live in a country where mountains are tables with cable
An elephant, a laughing man or perhaps a flower that you wish connecting them to mankind. And as you observe nature
you could give to somebody who you love, play games in your through a created frame, a frame of metal with wheels and
mind, doing somersaults across your sub-conscious. windows, you appreciate that our world is a masterful
Sometimes as your eyes and imagination wonder upwards to collaboration.
this infinite canvas, you see that man and his jets have decorated Contrast. Life is made up of contrast. It takes a road trip
the expanses of azure with white ribbons. He has used his through your picture-memory, all the while understanding that
machines to create symmetrical contrast. Contrast to nature and man work together, to grasp the shear beauty of it -
emphasise beauty. of life.
At night when the canvas has become darker, blacker in colour, Brynne Guthrie (Grade 11)
instead of fluffy, frolicking friends dancing across it, there are
stationery, dotted images. A scorpion, a cross, a sword, a ram. A Poem I Am Not Allowed To Write
All of these thing decorate the world above us. A strange,
fluorescent bulb hangs over us, lighting the earth with its dim, Or
far-off glow and every now and again man contributes to this Burn These Verses
artwork. Using his paintbrush, he creates an aeroplane which Dear God,
speeds past the seemingly motionless constellations as if it is a All the instructions in the manual
shooting star. Man and nature work together to create art. Have recently been completed:

Aye-Chan Htun Grade 9 The legions of gluttons
Have been successfully removed
And incarcerated in deep-freezers
The prostitutes and the lecherous
Have been separately detained
The ocean waters are teeming
With half-drowned adulterers
(The tears they shed for their affairs
Have made the seas one millimetre deeper)
The pickpockets and the swindlers
Have been locked in the subway tunnels
(Without a single accordion player
Whose melodies can keep them company)
The idlers have been deported
And sent to work in the factories
(Production has decreased,
But the problem will be rectified)
The homosexual offenders
Are beneath the soil of the flower-beds
(No wonder the gardenia shrubs
Are growing so well this year)
Any acedia has been dealt with
By swift and merciless execution

And the multitude of seven billion liars
Were secured to seven billion stakes
And seared with the flames of a raging fire
Fed with pages of the tall tales they wrote.

127PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

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The only predicament seems to be me through the pain. I hugged her back, dropping Teddy. He fell
There’s no one left. face first onto the birdhouse floor. I struggled after him, trying to
Trudie Spangenberg (Grade 11) grab him as I was being pulled away. He only smiled back, making
no effort to reach after me. My mother looked back to see what
Airport Experience I’d dropped, but there was nothing there. There never was.
Kristina Jovanovic (Grade 11)
I stood in the doorway of my bedroom. It was completely empty.
The shelves, toy-less. The cupboards, clothes-less and my bed Human Rights Month
contained no pillows or stuffed animals or half-eaten crayons or
... Teddy! Where was Teddy? A light paw tapped my cheek. Oh, (The Department of Education ran an essay competition and this essay
there you are! resulted in Sibella attending a Freedom Day celebration at the Presidential
I was holding you this entire time! I walked downstairs. Also Guest House.)
empty. It looked absolutely frightening. It’s as if a spiralling
giant had entered the house, eating everything in its way, whirling Why do we have the same rights, when we are different?
in chaos and stripping my only home to bare embarrassment. Assuming that ‘we’ refers to South African humans, as animals
My mother stood on the front porch of the house, her bushy sadly do not have the rights they deserve and I do consider them a
head buried in Betty’s, our neighbour’s, shoulder. They were significant part of our society, but this is an essay about human
both wailing frantically at a frequency so high-pitched that it rights, soI will grudgingly have to keep quiet about animal rights
easily exceeded the maximum frequency at which bats navigate. for now.
My father was loading up our car with millions of items, suitcases Ideally we all have equal rights, because we are all part of the same
and all. But why? Teddy tapped my on the cheek again. He species and therefore deserve the same consideration. Humans
pointed toward our naked house then toward our overloaded car are not really all that different from each other. Few of our rights
then toward my whining mother, all the while speaking some are based on things which differ from person to person; they are
dialect of gibberish that comprised of nothing more than moans mainly based on the fundamentals of human beings, which are
and furious grunts. Keep still, Teddy! Stop jittering! We’re the same in all people. Like the rights to dignity, life, freedom and
going to the “air-op-hort”! Now I’m not exactly sure what that is security of the person, privacy and freedom of speech, to name a
but daddy said they have really big birds there. I know how much few. There are however differences that do alter the rights which
you like birds! Teddy usually listened to my every thought, but should be appropriated to certain people. For example children
this time his stubbornness wouldn’t give in. have different rights to adults and disabled people have certain
My father slowly led me to our drowning car. The seatbelt advantages to accommodate for their disability, like parking on
clicked and so did Teddy’s. My mother’s face blotched in red especially reserved parking spaces. In this case, we do not have
stains, also got into the car. She smiled weakly at me before the same rights; we have equal rights. Equality is not synonymous
burying her nose in a tissue. The car burst into life, roaring in with sameness.
triumph, and that red-bricked driveway disappeared from view -- Sameness implies that every person, regardless of age, position or
- for the last time. It was the last time I would ever see the front ability has exactly the same rights. If this were true, children
porch with its incandescent light above that wooden door or the would have had the right to vote and drive, which might have been
sweet-smelling geraniums planted under the kitchen window or less than practical. Equality rather means that every person,
the kitchen itself bringing out that irresistible aroma of my regardless of age, position or ability should have the same
mother’s baking, enticing and without fail, seducing anyone consideration, but rights can be different to suit each group’s
crossing its path to mouth-watering hunger. needs and abilities. Justice Albie Sachs said it the best in his book
Eeeeeep! The car screeched to an abrupt stop. We were there The Strange Alchemy of Life and Law as ‘equality means equal
already. The place was huge. It was so huge that the beginning or concern and respect across difference. It does not presuppose
end of the building could not be seen. In fact, it was several the elimination or suppression of difference.’ This is why
buildings, all glued together. Everywhere I looked, people children do not have the right to vote or drive because they 1. do
flooded through revolving doors with large suitcases, just like the not need to as their parents should transport them, and they are
ones we were now trolling along. People in tears, people with not expected to make political decisions. 2. They are not
wide smiles plastered across their faces, people scurrying in utter responsible or knowledgeable enough to make such decisions.
confusion congested the floors of the birdhouse. The only Children have other rights like a right to parental care, which
sound to be heard, aside from the humming of the travellers, was adults do not have, because they do not need it as they can fend
a distant female voice announcing something important. I for themselves.
guessed that it was important because every time she said Putting that aside, all South Africans have the same rights, or
something, the travellers would hush and listen intently. Flight rather equal rights in writing (all humans worldwide should but
number KB157 to New York now boarding at Gate 32,Terminal there is a lamentable number of countries in which they don’t),
B! but it was not until surprisingly recently that this occurred. The
“That’s us, let’s go!” called my father over his shoulder. I looked democratic South Africa is still very young and will stumble as all
at Teddy now holding on to me in my arms. His whole tiny body youngsters do, still stumble rather often, which I will refer back to
was hanging in defeat. He had failed to explain. Explain what? soon. It was only sixteen years ago when non-white people were
We were going to the birdhouse, getting into one of the first given equal rights to white people, when women also got
humungous creatures and flying away. But only to come back, equal rights to men, and when all religions were made to be
right? Again, I looked at Teddy. Still frowning, he shook his head acceptable, and it was only in 2006 when same-sex marriages were
knowingly. And finally, I understood. made legal.
Hot, blazing rivers erupted from my eyes, choking me and The stumbling I was referring to is called Affirmative Action. I
reducing me to loud sobs. My mother’s warm embrace helped specifically said ‘all South Africans have equal rights in writing’,

128 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: English

because they do as it is written in the constitution, but in practice Nicole Antoniadou Grade 12
black people are often favoured above white people when it
comes to things such as jobs, universities and bursaries. In still gaping open and its light only made us remember her,
certain universities it is a requirement to be black in order to get a painfully. Instead, it offered us its tears, engaging with us in
bursary to study further, regardless of marks. I know of a certain mourning one of its earthly contemporaries.
medical student who had a 95% average in medical sciences. She For a long time, our lives were overshadowed by darkness.
applied for a bursary, but was denied one because she is white. However, because of it, we learned to appreciate the light: the
There are many more cases like this one and I find it light that, with every step taken forward, is slowly illuminating our
dysfunctional for two main reasons: 1) it is discriminatory and needy souls; the light of the sun.
breeds resentment and division, and 2) it does not strive to apply Saneze Tshayana (Grade 12)
those to a job who would work at it the best, because the granting
of jobs is based on skin colour rather than ability and dedication The light that stopped shining and the
as it should be. This can easily result in inadequacy in the working ventriloquist who lost his voice
place, which could be prevented if people were granted their jobs
because they deserve them. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of
There are evidently quite a few aspects to work on in our young our dear friend, Paco.” The ventriloquist’s wife rolled her eyes as
and still-evolving society, but it is still one of the countries with a the minister continued with the proceedings. “It is with great
democratic and liberal constitution and of this I am very proud. sadness that we say goodbye to a gentle soul and a free spirit. I
Sibella Louw (Grade 12) would like to hand over to the person who knew him best – his
closest friend, John.”
The Sun The ventriloquist clumsily got to his feet and slowly made his way
to the front of the room. His feet dragged across the floor as he
The sun did not come out, that day. It chose to mourn with us tried to disguise his faint sobs. Next to his empty chair, the
and respectfully dressed itself in bulbous clouds of grey and ventriloquist’s wife again rolled her eyes and breathed a sigh of
black. There had been other days, of course: days where there impatience. She was secretly happy about Paco’s tragic death.
was enough happiness to leave you feeling pleasantly inebriated. Perhaps now she would be appreciated for the wonderful wife
But, because we live in a world of polarity, there were bound to be that she was. Her thoughts began to drift back to happier days
days like these: days where you search for joy with bleeding while her husband, the ventriloquist, turned to face the crowd and
hands, not finding it. started to speak.
There had been other days: days with the sun; with our sun. She “For many years, I struggled to find a partner and friend with
was our sun; we orbited around her. She drew you in with her whom I could achieve my full potential. I was beginning to doubt
effervescence: joy was in her genes; compassion flowed in her myself and came this close,” he gestured with his fingers, “to
veins; laughter fizzed through her body. She had the ability to giving up on my dream. But then, one day, I met Paco and
create memories out of the mundane. She had the power to turn everything changed.”
our mistakes into magic. She lived intensely, maximising the With these words, the ventriloquist’s wife cast her mind back to
pleasure present in each moment. She reached into your soul; the day when her husband’s dream began and her’s died. It was
she had the power to ignite that spark – the desire to create only Christmas of ’99 and he had just returned from gift-shopping.
beauty and to experience only pleasure in others. Thus, she was The brightly coloured box was the first thing she noticed. His
always surrounded by admirers: people who hoped that her
warmth would engender something similar in them. She always 129PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris
made time for us, – her sunbeams, she called us. Ignorance is
truly bliss: we were blissfully unaware of the darkness loitering
ahead.
Sunbeams, for her, we may have been, but even we could not
penetrate that darkness. We could not beam our light far enough
so she could see and be warned and be cautious. She rushed
excitedly and assuredly into that darkness, certain that (at some
point) light would penetrate and render the hidden visible.
Sunbeams are messengers of the sun, bringing warmth and light
to the sun and her beloved people. Without our sun, we were
powerless and inert. We kept hoping she would emerge (hope
being one of the first things she taught us). But she did not.
The day we said our goodbyes, the sun, our sun, did not come
out. From a gap in the curtains, my sister and I watched as the
guests arrived: the knots of admirers that had tied themselves to
her, because of her personality. Their faces were gnarled with
pain; their memories of her offered no comfort. They walked
reluctantly up the path to the door, knowing that this was a
different visit: no exciting episodes were expected; they were
gathering to mourn the loss of light, our light, our sun, their
source of delight and wisdom. The sun did not come out: it
lurked in the shadows, careful not to intrude on our grief; it
abstained from casting its light into our lives, as the wound was

Viewpoint: English

smile stretched across his face as he opened it to show her what alone. Unnoticed and ignored, the doubt has tainted them,
was inside. Her heart sank when she saw it. A puppet. A three- sticking to them like tar. They tell you: this is impossible. You
dimensional, perfectly created ventriloquist’s puppet. A puppet have no time, no energy, no experience. You persevere, but now
called Paco. you toil for every phrase, suffer for every paragraph. You have
“That day, ten years ago, our friendship began. We would spend no skill, the doubt says, blotting out the light. You fade.
every waking minute together, telling one another stories and When the dark smog has filled your lungs, your heart and your
making up new ones. We couldn’t stand to be apart. And then mind, and you choke on your own thoughts, the truth is there:
last week,” he clenched the soggy tissues in his hands as he you have no will.
choked back his tears, “he was tragically taken from me. When I And yet – still, you call yourself a writer. The battle of wills that
found him it was already too late. The glass had pierced his you lose day after day do not
heart and he died immediately.” The ventriloquist could no seem epic or grand. You say: writer’s block. You say it
longer fight his emotions. He began to sob violently as he cheerfully and somewhat proudly, like people who do not sleep
remembered the events of the previous week. “The light bulb well or people who are not good at maths.
was lying next to him. Completely shattered .. And there was You say: one day.
nothing I could do ... I felt completely shattered, too ... I had lost One day there will be time, energy, experience. One day you will
my light...” have the skill. One day, your will will be strong enough. You’re
Despite her initial feelings of guilt, the ventriloquist’s wife was certain.
relieved. She left her husband alone with his puppet and But the doubt remains, fluid but unyielding. And regardless of
returned home to prepare for his return. She would finally get your ‘one day’s and ‘sometime’s all you have to your name are a
her husband back... few hasty essays and unfinished scraps in drawers. You have not
The ventriloquist could not stand to be alone. He reached into earned your self-proclaimed title.
his dead puppet and watched in amazement as Paco took in a And the thick viscose smog says: one day, indeed. The doubt
huge breath of air. A huge smile stretched across the will be waiting.
ventriloquist’s face. Paco was alive. Devi Pillay (Grade 12)
Sofi Zway (Grade 12)
Who dares?
The Destruction and Decay of the
Creative Process Who dares to measure beauty
with the head of a pin?
You’re a writer.
Maybe you believe it, maybe you don’t. Maybe you just want to Who decides what perfection is
believe it. It’s what you tell yourself. It’s what you tell others. by ignoring what lies within?
It’s a label you wear with pride: I am creative. I am passionate. I
am a writer. The problem is that you don’t know it. Who is to define what a pearl is
You’re still young and you’ve yet to start your life, but the when eyes are blind to the treasures around?
thought is always there. That’s the kind of problem it is: always
with you, quiet and nagging but heavy. Are you a writer? Really? Who is cold-hearted enough to silence truth
But what have you actually written? You’ve never entered those by not allowing a sound?
competitions you said you would. You have never finished or
even properly started – that novel. You’ve never shown anyone You measure
anything. You decide
The questions, the thoughts, the accusations – they don’t stop. You define
It’s the doubt – it crept in when you were too preoccupied to You, who refuses to see the inside.
nourish your dreams, slow and sluggish but thick and persistent. Nicole Battison (Grade 12)
It curled like smoke through the tiniest chinks in your armour,
filling you to saturation; it permeates everything it touches, The homeless at communion
blackening, staining, infesting.
You try to fend it off. Essays, stories, penned in an hour in a too- The homeless men looked like churchgoers
small classroom: they are your last line of defence. You feel as at communion to me
if you’re clutching at straws. You know you had to be forced to Passing around a dirty bottle
write. You know it was a long, torturous process of grasping at All sipping the wine
a subject and forcing the words. You can’t bear to reread them. Of shared human sorrow
Before you know it, the doubt has claimed them too.
Sometimes the doubt does not press too heavily: those With all their heads bent
occasions are accompanied by the fabled “inspiration”, a spear As if they were in prayer
of light that frightens the smokey doubt to the dusty corners of They divided a meal
your mind. The idea illuminates all and you feel invincible. Of which each had a share
There is a hurried scramble for scraps of paper. committing
abstract thoughts to reality. This is it, you are convinced. Now, And in silence they sat
you will work. You will write. This is real. While I watched in wonder
Too real, perhaps. For when the mad rush is over and the Never having seen anything
incredible high has left you, the light stutters. The excitement is that looked less archetypal
gone; reason and clarity have returned. They do not come as a reminder of
Christ and his disciples.
130 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris Carole Godfrey (Grade 12)

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

SAtefrliwkaerakns

Die egpaartjie Die koms van die agt, geel, donssagte kuikens is een
Saterdagoggend deur die hoenderhaan met 'n geweldige kabaal
Smulpape beskou hoendervleis as bobaaskos. My gunsteling aangekondig. Hy het sy borskas ver uitgestoot en swierig met sy
gereg is (of eerder was) braaihoender met lekker aartappelslaai. wyfie en kroos deur die tuin geparadeer.
Ek het nog altyd gedink vegetariërs is ietwat vreemd en dat hulle Toe die kuikens oud genoeg was, het hy en die wyfie weer op die
soveel heerlike disse ontbeer. tuinbankie geslaap.
Altans, dit was die geval totdat ons bure, 'n Koreaanse egpaar, na Ek het besef hoe wreed en onkundig ons as mense werklik is.
hulle tuisland teruggekeer het en hulle haan en hennetjie net so Enigiemand wat hierdie tafereel sien afspeel het, sou nooit weer
agergelaat het. Die hoenders het in ons tuin ingewandel en hoenders eet nie. As ek dink aan al die leed wat ons diere aandoen,
hulleself permanent by ons gevestig. voel ek nietig en skaam.
Ons het 'n groot stoep en voor die groot eetkamervenster is daar Maar tog – hoort ons nie te weet dat alle wesens gevoelens het nie?
'n wit tuinbankie. Dit is hier waar die haan en hennetjie elke dag Gemma-May Grotepass (Graad 9)
teen skemer, soos klokslag, kiertsregop op die boonste gedeelte
van die rugkant van die bankie gaan sit het - knus langs mekaar, Wolke
soos 'n ou egpaartjie en ware bondgenote. Die inherente liefde
wat die twee hoenders vir mekaar getoon het, was verstommend. Dit was 'n dag soos enige ander dag... koud en mislik; die son het
Die hoenderhaan het altyd links gesit, op presies dieselfde plek en af en toe deur die wolke geskyn. Haar vel was yskoud en haar
die hennetjie styf teen hom aan sy regtersy. liggaam doodstil. Hy probeer om met haar te praat, maar hy weet
Hulle sou net so slaap totdat die haan, met sonsopkoms, gekraai sy is te swak van die koue en siekte. Daarom begin hy vir haar 'n
het en die twee in die tuin begin rondskarrel het met die haan storie vertel.
vooruit en die hennetjie op kort beentjies al agter hom aan'n Twintig jaar gelede in Münich, Duitsland, het daar twee mense van
Wekker was nie meer nodig nie, want die haan het my soggens verskillende agtergronde gebly. Een was 'n arm man, Peter, wat 'n
wakker gekraai. Kort daarna sou die mueszzin se lied vol dokter wou word. Die ander was 'n ryk meisie, Margot, wat as
heimweë van die middestadmoskee opklink. onderwyseres by 'n kleuterskool gewerk het.
Bykans 'n jaar later kon ek nie verstaan wat soggens “verkeerd” Margot se pa – 'n ou Joodse man – wou 'n nuwe kar vir Margot
was nie. Die mueszzine het elke oggend gesing en ek het aanvaar koop, maar die enigste ding waarin sy belanggestel het, was Peter.
dat die haan my wakker gemaak het, maar toe ek die derde dag van Toe hulle na die motors kyk, moes Margot se pa 'n draaitjie loop.
die skool af tuiskom, het ek die haan droewig langs welige bosse Terwyl hy weg was, het Peter nadergekruip aan Margot. Sy was vir
in ons tuin sien sit. Niks kon hom beweeg om te roer nie. Ek het hom beeldskoon. Peter het Margot gevra om later roomys saam
naarstigtelik na die wyfie gesoek, maar kon haar nêrens vind nie. met hom te gaan eet. Sy was opgewonde daaroor.
Die graankos wat ek soggens spesiaal vir die hoenders gestrooi Hulle het mekaar dikwels begin sien. Dag na dag het hulle
het, was onaangeraak. Ek het ewe skielik besef wat “verkeerd” gevoelens vir mekaar gegroei. Margot het geweet dit sal nooit
was, was dat die hoenderhaan nie meer gekraai het nie. uitwerk nie. Sy was 'n Jodin, en Peter 'n eenvoudige Duitse man.
Ons het die tuin gefynkam totdat ons op die hennetjie se Hulle was van verskillende gelowe en agtergronde. Margot se
karkassie in die bosse afgekom het. Ek kon nie vasstel wat haar ouers sou dit nooit aanvaar nie.
dood veroorsaak het nie. Dit was seker ouderdom. Eendag, terwyl hulle in die park stap, het Peter haar gevra om met
Toe ons haar karkassie uithaal, het die hoenderhaan onaardig hom te trou. Hulle was altwee so oorstelp van vreugde dat hulle
begin kekkel. Dit het na snikke geklink. Hy het droewig toegekyk saam besluit het om van Munich af weg te loop. Daar wag 'n nuwe
hoe ons haar begrawe en het nooit weer gekraai nie. begin vir hulle in Berlyn waar hulle saam in vrede kon bly.
My ma was so ontsteld dat sy 'n nuwe hennetjie gekoop het. 'n Die lewe in Berlyn was goed. Hulle het in die week gewerk,
Maand later het die hoenderhaan weer in die tuin begin rondloop Margot by 'n kleuterskool en Peter by 'n musiekwinkel. Party
en die nuwe hennetjie het langs hom ingekruip en die volgende naweke het hulle na klein dorpies toe gereis waar hulle
oggend het hy my wakkergekraai! ongelooflike ervarings beleef het.
Toe verdwyn die nuwe hennetjie. Ek was rasend van Die ou man neem sy vrou se verweerde hand in syne en vra met 'n
bekommernis, maar die hoenderhaan het baie in sy skik gelyk, sy skor stem: “Onthou jy nog, Mamma?” Sy kon hom nie meer
graan geëet en soggens gekraai. Na 'n lang soektog het ek die antwoord nie...
hennetjie opgespoor waar sy ewe trots op agt eiers gesit het! Hy het opgekyk na die son wat af en toe deur die wolke gebreek

131PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

het en geprewel: “Ons sal altyd saam wees, Margot, niks sal ons deur my gemoed gevloei: gil, huil, lag. Amper soos 'n paradoks
liefde skei nie. Nie ons ouers, agtergrond of Hitler se hele Nazi- word ek woedend, net om weer skielik verlig te voel. Ek was soos
regering nie. Jy is altyd by my.” 'n verkeerslig wat oorskakel na rooi, groen, oranje …
Lili Passetti (Graad 11) Dit was moeilik om hom so swak en siek te sien. Ek het weer na
hom gekyk en gesien dat hy ook huil. Ons het mekaar vir vyf jaar
As die jare my vergeet nie gesien nie. Jace het weggeloop toe ek veertien was en ons het
gedink dat hy dood is. Ons was baie na aan mekaar.
Kan jy my nog onthou? Ek kan nie. Ek sien foto's en ek dink: Ek het by die deur uitgehardloop en my broer vasgedruk. Ek kon
“Wie is hierdie meisie?” Sy het 'n sneeuwit vel en rooibruin hare. nie glo dat hy terug was nie. In die vyf jaar toe hy nie daar was nie,
Haar oë is groen – die tipe oë wat stories vertel en jou siel versterk het ons altwee so verander dat ons vreemdelinge vir mekaar was.
met net een blik. Haar sproetjies dans in die lig. Ek onthou... Ek was nie meer 'n kind nie en hy was 'n man. Daar was so baie
hulle word sonsoentjies genoem. Haar hande voel deur die dae se om vir mekaar te sê, soveel om vir hom te vertel, maar ons het
lig en die nag se stilte soos die musiek van die ou meesters en die niks gesê nie – Jace is nou terug. En dit is al wat saak maak.
gedigte van 'n genie. Hulle is kuns – hulle is perfek. Onthou jy Allison Fourie (Graad 11)
haar? Ek kan nie.
Nog foto's wys die verloop van my lewe. Ek het 'n broer. Wat Trein
was sy naam nou weer? Hy het 'n vrou! En kinders! Hemel,
waarheen het al hierdie jare tog gegaan? Nog 'n foto vertel 'n Toe ek nog 'n klein meisietjie was, het my ouers besluit om my per
ander storie: ek het twee kinders! Ek blaai om en kyk na nog 'n trein na my tante-hulle toe te stuur … stoksielalleen. Dit was my
foto. My kleinkinders staan by hulle ouers. Ek voel die trane eerste keer op 'n trein en alles het geratel en geskud. Ek was
wanneer dit oor my wange vloei. Ek kan die sterk familiegene in vreeslik bang en het onder 'n sitplek weggekruip en aan die slaap
die foto's sien, ook die rooibruin van hulle hare, die intelligente geraak. Toe het die avontuur werklik begin …
glimlagte op hulle gesiggies wat deur 'n bedeesde uitdrukking Later het ek wakker geword en uit my skuilplek gekyk. Behalwe
versteek word. Hulle is definitief my kleinkinders. Ek voel my die gerammel van die trein, was alles stil. Ek het deur die hele
man se arms om my. Hy vra: “Onthou jy?” “Nee,” sê ek en huil trein gehardloop, maar daar was niemand anders daar nie. 'n
weer. Ysige gevoel van paniek het soos 'n donker wolk oor my lyf
Wanneer het die jare so verbygegaan? gevou – ek was alleen met nie die vaagste benul wat ek moet doen
Die jare daarna was lank en moeilik. Daar was trane en die nie. Skielik het 'n helder lig my oë gevang. Ek het nader gekruip
glimlagte van mense. Ek het elke dag al minder onthou. Waar is en versigtig deur die ventser na buite gekyk. Wat ek daar gesien
die vryheid van onthou en herinneringe? Waar is my geheue? het, het my asem skoon weggeslaan …
Waar is die stories wat die meisie se oë vertel het? Is dit dalk die Die son het lig uitgestraal, maar dit was nie 'n normale son nie.
geheime en leuens, die drome en passie van my lewe? Waar is die Dit was 'n groot goudgeel suikerklontjie. Langs die suikerson
waardigheid van my geheue? Waar is die vryheid? was sagte wit en pienk spookasemwolke en vir 'n oomblik het ek
Ek weet nie waar ek is nie. Ek is bang. Wie is hierdie vreemde gewens ek het letterlik my kop in die wolke gehad! Ek kon 'n hele
mense? Ek vra die meisie voor my: “Waar is ek?” Sy antwoord klomp bome met helder blommetjies sien – roomysblommetjies
met 'n glimlag: “Jy is met vakansie.” Sy lyk so bekend... so gaaf, van elke kleur en geur op aarde, en meer! Daar was ook 'n
so liefdevol. Sy borsel my grys hare met haar artistieke hande – donker, romerige, sjokoladestroom met klein, wit
soos as 'n ma vir haar dogter ... of 'n dogter vir haar ma. Ek kyk na sjokoladespoelklippies wat op die oewer van die stroom gelê het.
haar kort hare – dis dieselfde rooibruin wat my hare was, lank, Ek kon net staan en staar terwyl die paniek met stroopsoet geluk
lank gelede. Miskien ken ek haar ma. “Lewe jou ma nog?” vra ek, en opgewondenheid vervang word. Oulike koekhuise bedek met
bang vir die antwoord. Trane vul by haar groen oë – die tipe oë soet versiersuiker het langs die stroom gestaan. Elke
wat stories vertel en jou siel met net een blik versterk. Sy glimlag koekkothuis het 'n klein tuintjie gehad met groen,
nog, maar sy lyk teleurgesteld, moeg en ongelukkig. “Ja, my ma pepermentlekkergras en een het selfs 'n jellieslingerplant gehad
lewe nog. Jy is my ma,” antwoord sy. wat oor die hele huis gekruip het. Alles buite was so mooi en so
Die ou man het saggies en deernisvol my hand gevat, langs my op helder dat my oë begin traan het, terwyl ek my lippe aflek vir die
'n tweesitplekbankie gaan sit en gesê: “Onthou jy nog, Liefie?” lekkergoedland buite die venster.
Danielle Millar (Graad 11) 'n Donker skadu het onverwags die trein ingesluk en my lyf het
koud geraak. Alles buite die trein was ook in hierdie massiewe
Aandskemering skadu gehul. Ek het na die ander kant van die trein gestap en
weer eens deur die venster na buite gekyk. 'n Kolossale berg van
Ek het 'n donker skadu teen my slaapkamervenster sien skitterende soetigheid het oor my en die trein gedrup. Dit was op
verbyflits, die venster oopgemaak en geskree … dié oomblik dat ek die geluid vir die eerste keer gehoor het. 'n
Sy gesig was so bleek soos die maan, maar hy het pikdonker Diep harde gerammel het van die berg af gekom en elke sekonde
skadu's oor sy oë gehad. Sy blonde hare was vuil en sy brandmaer het dit harder geraak. Toe die trein om 'n hoek van die berg kom,
liggaam het gelyk asof dit in die helfte kon breek. Sy klere was het ek dit gesien … 'n groot rotsblok het van die berg afgerol en
soos die van 'n arm bedelaar. Hy het bang, swak en siek gelyk, so die trein was in die pad! Ek het vir 'n paar oomblikke met afsku
asof hy enige tyd kon sterf. na die rotsblok gekyk. Ek het onder die sitplek ingegly, my arms
Ek het lank en skril geskree, maar het plotseling opgehou – die oor my kop gevou, my oë toegemaak en gewag …
verswakte man het nie gevaarlik gelyk nie. Sy gesig was liefdevol Ek moes seker aan die slaap geraak het, want skielik het ek wakker
en onskuldig. Toe het hy geglimlag. Hy het vuil, geel tande geword en vinnig opgespring. Daar was mense rondom my. Ek
gehad, en sy verrimpelde oë het senuagtig geknip. Hy het bekend het dadelik na die venster gehardloop en uitgekyk. Geen
gelyk … suikerson, geen sjokoladestroom nie … en geen rotsblok nie.
Toe ek besef wie hy was, was ek so geskok en verbaas dat ek net Ons was uiteindelik in die stasie en ek kon my tante-hulle sien
gestaan en staar het. Verskillende emosies het soos 'n wilde rivier

132 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

Esther Park Grade 10 Eleanor Harding Grade 12 Catherine Humphries Grade 12

wag. Ek het vinnig my tasse gegryp, desperaat om my familie te die slaap geraak. Alles was stil. Skielik het ek 'n klein geluidjie
sien sodat ek my ongelooflike storie vir hulle kan vertel. gehoor en toe ek wakker word en opkyk, het ek iets in die lig sien
Abigail Vause (Graad 11) flits.
'n Man het gaan sit en sy sakmes in sy tas gesit. “Skuus, ek wou
Onthou jy nog? jou nie wakker maak nie. Jy moet in elk geval nou-nou afklim.
Ek sien jy gaan Hamburg toe,” het sy vreemde stem vir my gesê.
Ek staan langs hom, my oë vasgenael op die toneel wat voor my Ek wou iets teruggesê het, maar toe het ek agtergekom dat al my
lê. Ek kyk weg van die perfekte toneel en kyk op in sy sagte reisgidse in my tas weggesteek was. Hoe kon hy geweet het
bruin oë. Die plooie en rimpels om sy oë word dieper en trek waarheen ek op pad was?
styf om sy mond se breë glimlag. Sy bruin oë vonkel net soos “Dankie,” het ek gesê en my tasse gevat en afgeklim. Ek sien
toe hy nog jonk was. Sy hand is sterk wanneer hy sy groot hand Karin toe dadelik raak. Sy het my met 'n groot glimlag gegroet.
om myne sit en die verrimpelde vel is warm en sag teen my hand. Uiteindelik kon ek haar weer sien – my enigste wegkomkans.
“Onthou jy nog?” vra hy. Nadat ek 'n bietjie by haar huis in Bergedorf gerus het, het sy
Ek glimlag toe ek daaraan dink. Dit was 'n asemrowende dag begin om Hamburg vir my te wys. Deutsches Spelhaus,
saam met hom gewees. Hy het my gevat om piekniek te hou Kunsthalle Hamburg en die Alter Botanischer Garten Hamburg,
langs 'n rivier onder groot, groen bome en langs pragtige, wilde is net 'n paar plekke wat sy my gewys het.
blomme en toe, net voor skemer, het hy my verras. Hy wou nie sê Daardie aand het sy uit die bloute siek geword. Dit was baie
waarheen ons ry nie en het my oë toegebind en my stadig aan my vreemd en iets het nie reg gevoel nie. Daar was 'n kol op my
hand vorentoe gelei. Hy het tot stilstand gekom, agter my maag omdat dit te skielik gebeur het.
gestaan en die lap om my oë losgewoel. Toe ek my oë oopmaak, Ek het besluit om alleen verder te stap nadat Karin huis toe
was ek stom geslaan en sonder woorde oor die toneel wat voor gegaan het. Dit het nie lank gevat voordat ek verlore in 'n verlate
my gelê het. Dit was sonsondergang en ons het op die rand van straat op pad huis toe was nie.
'n groot, diep kloof gestaan met niemand in sig nie. Die Agter my het voetstappe op die teer getik en dit was te donker om
sonstrale het van die massiewe groot rotse weerkaats. Die selfs my hand voor my neus te sien. Uiteindelik het ek by 'n
briljante oranje en sagte goue waas het die diep kloof in kleure straatlig uitgekom. Iets het geflits en my eerste reaksie was om te
verdrink. Die lug was silwerskoon en die kleure was so helder gil en weg te hardloop.
dat ek gevoel het asof ek die eerste sonsondergang ooit gesien Na dié gebeurtenis het ek besluit om op die eerste trein Berlyn
het. Toe ek omgekyk het om vir hom dankie te sê, was hy op sy toe te klim. Ek het in die dieselfde kompartement gestap. Dit
knieë met 'n klein boksie in sy hand wat 'n diamantring daarin was donker en toe ek die lig aanskakel, het hy weer daar gesit …
gehad het. die deur kon nie meer oopgaan nie … Sy mes het weer geflits “Ek
Nou, vyftig jaar later, staan ons by dieselfde diep kloof en dit het vir jou gewag …”
voel asof dit net gister gebeur het. Die lug is net so skoon en die Tanya Schmid (Graad 12)
kleure net so helder. Ek kyk terug na hom waar hy doodstil in
die sonlig staan en die warmte indrink. Ek lag saggies en voel My belofte aan Anna
hoe die warmte na my hart kruip. Ek draai na hom toe en vou sy
groot hand in altwee my hande. Dit is Dinsdagaand en die weer is guur. Die sterre is onsigbaar en
“Ja, ek onthou nog.” die wolke lê swaar oor die land.
Taryn O'Brien (Graad 11) Ek is saam met Anna in die hospitaal. Die hospitaalmure is 'n
ligte groen kleur en maak nie saak hoe ek sit of staan nie, dit is die
Die Trein heeltyd ongemaklik. Ek kyk van die hospitaalmure na die bome
buite die venster langs Anna se bed. Die wind buig die takke
'n Sagte glimlag het om my mondhoeke gespeel terwyl ek effens en ek sien hoe die blare in die wind waai.
droomverlore na die verbyflitsende landskap gestaar het. In Anna het bloedkanker al vandat ek haar ken, maar hierdie keer
Hamburg, nie ver van Berlyn nie, het Karin vir my gewag. kan die dokters niks doen om haar te red nie.
Alleen in 'n kompartement met stilte wat my omring, het ek aan

133PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

Ek sit langs Anna op die hospitaalbed. My keel trek toe. “Anna, Die bloedband verguis
jy gaan my nie alleen in hierdie wêreld los nie. Ons is al te lank EK KEN JOU NIE
vriendinne! Met wie gaan ek nou my grootste geheime deel?” Willmaré Dippenaar (Graad 12)
Dit is stil in Anna se afdeling. Al wat ek hoor, is hoe die wind
buite swoesj. Dit sal ek Nooit vergeet nie …
Toe ek jonger was, het my ouers geskei. Ek was baie klein en ek
het my pa nooit weer gesien nie. Hy het ander belangstellings Dit is 'n winderige en bedompige Woensdag. My dag was 'n
gehad. Hy wou verder studeer om 'n sterrekundige te word. My donker warreling van Wiskunde en Wetenskap op swartborde en
ma sê ek het net sy slim brein gekry. Dis al. die gesuis van onderwysers se trillende stemme. Ek dryf
Ek het 'n paar keer vir my pa geskryf toe ek klein was, maar hy het kleurloos en leeg deur die ruimte van die lewe. Daar is altyd 'n
baie min teruggeskryf. Ek het kwaad vir hom geword. My pa het innerlike konflik wat op die toue van my hart druk.
op 'n dag, toe ek ouer was, vir my 'n brief geskryf. Hy het my Ek staan nou buite die stilte van my huis, die ligstrale op die
gevra om hom te gaan sien en te kyk hoe hy werk. Ek het nooit horison skyn oor die groen vlaktes. Dit is net die liggroen skadu
gegaan nie en Anna was baie vies vir my. “Jy gaan eendag spyt van blaartakke wat oor my beweeg. Die gat in my binneste begin
wees dat jy nooit vir hom gaan kuier het nie,” het sy eendag gesê. suig. Dit draai om en om en dit voel soos die dreigende, grys
As ek hartseer was,of my gedagtes wou orden, het Anna my wolke in die hemelruimte. Daar is 'n dieper gevoel. 'n Gevoel
toegelaat om op haar perd, Strider, te ry. dat iets onaangenaams iewers sit en wag om op die regte tyd te
“Marjoke, belowe my dat jy jou pa sal gaan sien. Dié jaar nog,” gebeur. Dit voel asof ek nie vooruit kan gaan nie, asof ek in een
het sy in'n sagte stem gesê. Die hospitaalbed is koud. Trane spoor bly gly. Dit voel na 'n ewigheid voordat ek die ingang na
stroom oor my wange. ons erf bereik. My oë gaan oor die oprit van ronde klippe, die stil
Ons het daardie aand oor allerhande dinge gepraat. Ek het bly huis en die losstaande motorhuis. Daar is iets verkeerd.
dink dat dit werklik die laaste keer sal wees dat ek my gedagtes My mond is kurkdroog as ek vir my hond, Jono, probeer fluit.
met haar deel. Sy het al klaar begin groet en het vir my gesê dat sy Die deur van die motorhuis is oop. 'n Oomblik weier my brein
haar perd vir my gee en dat ek mooi na hom moet kyk. om te registeer wat my oë sien. Tou, Ma, nek, my stem hyg
Anna is in die vroeë oggendure van Woensdagoggend langs my heserig in my bors. Ek druk haar gesig teen my wang en dit voel
dood. Voor Anna dood is, het sy vir my gesê dat ek vrede met asof nuwe bloed deur my are vloei as ek voel hoe sy saggies
haar dood moet maak, daarom weet ek dat sy gelukkig is. asemhaal. Ek voel hoe die trane 'n pad van droefheid oor my
Ek moes met die trein terug huis toe gaan. Ek kyk nou terug en wange maak. “Ek wil sterf ..” Haar woorde gooi my binnekant
onthou dat die dag toe ek op die trein geklim het, dit gereën het. oop. Ek sal dit nooit vergeet nie.
Alles was papnat en dit het vir my gevoel asof alles in my verlede Laataand, met my kop onder die kussing snik ek my hart uit van
weggespoel en skoongewas is. Ek het 'n nuwe begin begin, maar verdriet en weet dat ek nooit uit hierdie noute sal kom nie.
sal nooit vir Anna vergeet nie en ek sal ook nooit ophou om haar Ek word wakker met die reuk van roosterbrood en die geluide
te mis nie. van my pa se harde stem. Ek druk my IPod in my ore sodat ek nie
Ek het daardie naweek,op Anna se plaas lank op Strider gery. weer dieselfde ou drama hoef te hoor nie. Al wat ek nou wil
Toe ek die leisels neem, het ek die regte leisels van my lewe doen, is om alles wat gebeur het, van my swaar hart af te kry en
geneem. Die wind het my hare wild gewaai en terwyl Strider vorentoe te gaan, maar …
gallop, het ek Anna se laggie in die wind gehoor. Ek het Anna ek sal dit NOOIT vergeet nie.
weer eens belowe dat ek my pa sal gaan sien … Priyesha Gordhan (Graad 12)
Marjoke Terblanche (Graad 11)
Die gedagte
Bly te kenne
30 Maart 2010, 'n normale dag vir die meeste mense, maar nie vir
Oseane het tussen ons ingespoel my nie. Vandag is die dag van 'n herdenking van 'n dood, 'n dood
Ons praat lippelose taal wat nog vars in my geheue is.
Ons oë steek soos messe Twee maande gelede het my vriendin selfmoord gepleeg. Ek kan
Ek ken jou nie. die dag nog duidelik onthou. Ek kan my emosies nog onthou.

Hulpeloos lê ek in jou arms Yentel le Roux Grade 11
Soekend sit ek en wag
Skuldig verwyt myself
Ek ken jou nie.

Jy ryg my derms uit
Ek gooi 'n klip
'n Stil, doellose oorlog
Ek ken jou nie.

Jou bloed is my bloed
Die blou in jou oe is myne
Ons denkwyse bots
Ek ken jou nie.

Eindelose stilte

134 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

Ek kan haar gesig nog onthou - maar elke dag wens ek dat daar Kylie Bartosz Grade 11
nie 'n selfmoord was wat ek moet onthou nie! Ek wens dat sy
nog hier was. Elke dag word ek deur klein dingetjies aan haar Sewe dae en sewe nagte in die yskoue kake
herinner en die dertigste van elke maand sal ek altyd oor haar van die dood.
léwe juig.
Ek het vandag vroeg wakker geword om foto's te neem. Sy was Hier lê ek. Ek is moeg, honger en gedaan. Ek probeer om my oë
lief vir foto's en die natuur. Ek het foto's van die sonlig toe te maak, miskien dan sal ek dan nie hierdie ongelooflike pyn
geneem, die hemel, die bome, alles! Ek het geluister na al die voel nie. Dit werk nie, want skielik beweeg die skip en die
musiek waarvan sy gehou het en ek het films gekyk wat haar kettings begin om my enkels te skaaf. Dit is so seer! Hierdie
gunsteling was. My familie verstaan nie hoekom ek al hierdie slaweskip is meedoënloos .. dis HEL!
dinge op hierdie dag doen nie, maar ek gee nie om nie. Elke Vandag is dag sewe, sewe keer erger as dag een, en ek weet nie hoe
mens het 'n eie keuse oor hoe 'n mens wil onthou en dit is hoe ek lank ek nog hier tussen my dooie vriende kan lê nie, maar erger
my vriendin, Niraki, wil onthou. nog, langs my eie seun, Caleb. Hy was so klein, so onskuldig, hy
Vandag het ek na my vriendin se huis toe gegaan. Haar ouers was my lewe … en nou is hy weg. Ons het niks verkeerd gedoen
gee nie om nie, want die meeste van Niraki se vriende doen dit. nie. Ek was in die kombuis en hy was besig om saam met sy
Ek sit vir 'n uur of twee in haar slaapkamer en kyk na al die goed vriende te speel. Toe het hulle met vuurwapens en kettings
in haar kamer. Sy was haar eie, pragtige mens. Ek het vir 'n gekom; ek het my seun gegryp en begin hardloop. My voete kon
rukkie gehuil oor die gedagte dat ek haar stem nooit weer sal nie vinnig genoeg beweeg nie en my asem het kort geraak. Ek
hoor nie óf 'n drukkie van haar gaan kry nie, maar sy sal in my kon nie meer nie en dis toe dat hulle my en my seun uit Ghana,
hart bly. ons geboorteland, gevat het. Nou lê ek hier in hierdie hool. Hoe
Ek stoot die deur agter my toe. My arms hang loodswaar langs kon hulle? Hulle wou ons net vat om hulle slawe te wees, om vir
my sye. Ek sug en stap weg. hulle te sorg! En my seun, wie het vir hom gesorg?
Kendall Harbour (Graad 12) Ek begin om saggies en hartseer te huil. Hy was my seun en ek, sy
ma. Ek moes verseker dat hy gesond gebly het: “Mamma, ek is
Emma se Reise so honger,” was sy laaste woorde, maar al wat ek kon sê, was:
“Moenie bang wee, nie my kind God hou ons vas.”
Emma se grootste passie in die lewe is om te reis. Vir haar is Ek probeer om my wange droog te maak, maar ek kan nie, want
elke uitstappie en elke toer 'n nuwe avontuur, 'n nuwe ek is te swak. Dalk as ek diep asemhaal, sal ek dit regkry om my
ontdekking. Sy vind niks meer opwindender as om bekende trane af te vee. Nee, dit werk nie! Ek is doodmoeg en wil huis toe
dorpies te besoek, eksotiese kos te eet, vriendskappe met gaan. Ek wil nie in hierdie yskoue kake van die dood wees nie.
vreemdelinge te smee en nuwe kulture te leer nie. Emma het Skielik slaan die water teen die skip en ek voel die rot wat teen my
geweet dat hierdie reis na Frankryk net so bevredigend sou lyf verby hardloop. Ek wil hom gryp en eet, maar hy is te vinnig;
wees. net 'n bietjie vinniger as ek.
Parys is pragtig in die somer. Emma het haar verwonder aan die Uiteindelik voel ek my lyf ontspan. My oë gaan toe en ek voel nie
skoonheid van Frankryk se hoofstad. Die uitsig vanaf die die pyn nie. Iemand vee my trane af en hou my vas. Dis so sag en
Eiffeltoring, die Notre Dame-katedraal en as die Arc de teer; iets wonderliks. Ek is nie meer in die yskoue kake van die
Triomphe het haar asem weggeslaan. Al die skilderye, beeldjies dood nie. Ek is tuis, vry … ek is saam met God en Caleb …
en skatte van die Louvre het Emma sonder woorde gelaat. Sy uiteindelik.
het gewens dat sy weke se tyd tot haar beskikking gehad het om Shannon Black (Graad 12)
al die kunswerke en artefakte te ondersoek. Sy kon nie ophou
om die besonderse argitektuur van dié stad te bewonder nie. 135PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris
Alhoewel Emma in die woelige Parys baie besig was, het sy
rustigheid tydens haar bootrit op die Seine-rivier ervaar. Emma
het gereeld 'n croissant of van die dekadente fyngebak by 'n
klein straatkafeetjie gesit en eet. Sy het graag in die lowergroen
parke gesit, soms by 'n fontein, waar die Franse vriendelik
“Bonjour Mademoiselle!” na haar uitgeroep het.
Dié besondere herinneringe van Emma se eerste week in
Frankryk herroep sy nou terwyl sy in die toerbus sit. Die bus is
oppad na Dijon en ry nou deur Boergonje se pragtige
platteland. Eindelose goudgeel sonneblomvelde en wuiwende
plate van bloedrooi papawers strek voor haar uit terwyl die
lieflikste geure van soet somerbloeisels haar omring. Sy voel so
rustig en gelukkig. So vry. Sy steek haar kop by die venster uit
en voel die warm wind op haar gesig. 'n Sagte glimlag speel om
haar mondhoeke terwyl sy droomverlore na die verbyflitsende
landskap staar. Heuwels, riviere, woude en wynplase. Sy sal dit
nooit vergeet nie.
Emma het 'n onuitputlike behoefte om te reis. Daar is vir haar
niks meer opwindender as om vreemde dorpe en plekke te
besoek nie. Frankryk vorm nou 'n nuwe hoofstuk in Emma se
ontdekkingsreise en die herinneringe sal haar vir altyd bybly.
Elsmari Wium (Graad 12)

Artwork: Monique du Preez Grade 11

Viewpoint: Sepedi

C reativSeeWpedriiting

Go ntšha dimpa go swana kudukudu ka go humana mešomo. Se sengwe se se
bohlokwa ke gore boradipolotiki ba tlogele go hlabana ka
“Modimo a ba šegofatša a re: Atang le tlale lefase.” Mantšu a a mantšu bjale, ke tla tliša khutšo gare ga bana.
tšwa lentšung la Modimo lengwalong la Genesi 1 temana ya 28. Bothata bjo bogologolo mo nageng ye ya bo rena ke bodiidi. Bo
Thato ya Modimo ke gore re tlale lefase eupša bontši bja bana tliša bosenyi le dilo tša go swana le phepompe le malwetši. Selo
bao ba lego mahlalagading ba dirile go ntšha mpa fešene. se se ka lokišago mathata ao, ke ge go ka ba le mešomo ye
“Mapula gape ditlhahlobo tša boimane dire o ithwele.” O rile mengwe. Batho ge ba ka rutwa go šoma ka matsogo, go swana le
bjalo ngaka Makhube kua bookelong bja George Mokhare. go lokiša dipompi le dintlwana, ba tlo kgona go hwetša
Se se bontša gore nyatša molala e hwetše molaleng. Bjale, go tla mešongwana ba kgona le go fepa malapa a bona, bosenyi bja
dirwa eng ge ngwana wa mengwaga ye masomenne a ithwele? fela. Ge ba ka šoma ka maatla, ba tlo kgona go bona gore ga go
Go reng dingaka di botšiša gore “o tla dira bjang ge go le bjale?” lehumo la go tšwa kgauswi.
Karabo ya maleba e swanetše goba, “Ke tla emela letšatši la Selo se se sa swarego maAfrika Borwa gabotse ke taba ya gore
pelego,” eupša bana ba sebjalebjale ba dulelela go ima ba ntšhe bašomi ba mmušo ga ba šomiše tšhelete ya mmušo gabotse. Ba
dimpa. Sepedi se re ngwana llela nakana ya mokhure e sehle o reka difatanaga tša mabaibai, maikhutšo a gona a bitša
mo nee. Ga ba lapišwe ke go fola methaladi ye metelele ba eya go diketekete tša diranta. Ge nka fiwa sebaka sa go ba mopresidente
ntšha mpa. wa Afrika Borwa, nka ba bea leihlo ka dira gore ba šomiše
Mapula o ile a itira yo mongwe wa bana ba go penapena, ba tlala
mekgotha mašego ba lebala gore tšhipu e rile ke lebelo mohlaba Marie-Claire van den Berg Grade 12
wa re ke nabile. Tša lefase le ga di fele. Masetlapelo ke gore ka
morago ga mengwaga ye lesome ba ga Mogashoa ba ile ba tla go
tlo kgopela sego sa meetse ga bo Mapula. O ile a nyalwa ke
lesogana la go ema ka dinao, la go ja ditšhelete. Difatanaga tša
gona ga ke sa na molomo. Letšatši lona ge le go hlabetše o le
orele.
Ba ile ba leka go ba le bana gwa pala. Mapula o lebetše gore
mengwaqeng ye lesome yeo e fetilego e be e le yena a sasanka, a
tsena a e tšwa le menyako ya dipetlele a ntšha mpa gararo ka
ngwaga. Gona bjale Mapula ke lenkgeretla la go hloka monna,
ngwana le go šoma gwa pala gobane, ke molwetši wa go ya a ile
kgweding ngwaga ka moka, bothata ke gore popelo ya gagwe e
lapile.
Ke kwa pelo ya ka e rotha madi ge ke bona motho a ikela molete
mohlaelathupa ka lebaka la ditiro tša gagwe. Masetlapelo ke gore
Mmapula o ile a ikela badimong ka lebaka la bolwetši bja pelo.
Lefase ruri le ya bofelong.
Lindiwe Mahlangu (Grade 12)

Ge nka fiwa sebaka sa go ba mopresidente
wa Afrika Borwa

Toro ya ka ya go ba mopresidente wa Afrika Borwa, e sa le e
thoma ke sa le ngwana yo monyane, ge ke bona Nelson Mandela
a lokollwa kgolegong, a se na le lehloyo le le lenyane ka pelong ya
gagwe. Ga a tšhabe go lebelela mathata, a go swana le bosenyi,
bodiidi le ekonomi ka mahlong. Selo sa mathomo se nka se
dirago ke go bea marumo fase gare ga batho ba ditšo tša go
fapana mo Afrika Borwa, kudukudu gare ga bathobaso le
bathobašweu. Nka dira gore batho ka moka ba be le menyetla ya

136 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: Sepedi

Nikita Andre Grade 11 Kylie Bartosz Grade 11

tšhelete ya mmušo gabotse le ka bokgwari. Ge nka fiwa sebaka sa Motswadi o swere bothata. Ngwana ga a robale ka gae.
go ba mopresidente wa Afrika Borwa, ke tlo dira gore naga ye e be Ngwanana wa gagwe, wa mengwaganyana ye masomešupa, o
ya khutšo, lerato le tlhompho. imile gape. Lesea la bararo lona le tlile go kgonwa ke mang?
Mologadi Molala (Grade 12) Aowa batho! Le morutiši o a lla. Baithuti ba letše ba šomiša
diokobatši bošego ka moka. Le ge a ka ruta, o tlile go kwa ke
Legae botšhabelo bja ka mang? Baithuti ba itaola. Mongwe le mongwe o a ikarabela.
Setšhaba se swere bothata.
Botšhabelo ke sebo seo se šireletšago tšohle, ka gona legae ke Pinyana ge e re ping, e kwele Ping e kgolo. Ngwana ga a belegwe
botšhabelo bja diphidi ka moka. Motho yoo a hlokago legae o ka mekgwa ye mebe. O bona bagolo ba gagwe. Batswadi,
swana le selo seo se tšewago ke phefo. Ke ka lona lebaka le re eletšang baswa ba lena. Ba swere bokamoso bja bona le
bonago mmušo o agelago bao ba hlokago botšhabelo, ditlogolwana tša lena ka diatleng tša bona. Ba ruteng go tšwa
mengwako ya di RDP. bonnyaneng gore bophelo ga se papadi. Mmila wa boleta ga o iše
Ke ititia sefega ka go ba le moo e lego ga gešo. Legae ke tlhologelo felo. Ba tshepile go phela bophelo bjo ba bo bonago
ya ka ye kgolo ya go se lekantšhwe le selo ge ke šetše ke le gopotše. mabonakgoleng. Batho ba ja tšhelete ya go wa legodimong.
Ke lefelo leo ke hwetšago khutšo gona.Le ge diphefo di ka tšutla, Moithuti, gopola se: Kodumela moepa thutse ga go lehumo le le
dipula tša matlakadibe tša na, le matshwenyego ohle, legae le a a tšwago kgauswi.
fenya. Diphoofolo le dinonyana tša sebakeng sa legodimo di Baithuti ba imile sekolong gomme ba šomiša diokobatši ka
filwe kgopolo ya go inyakela magae a tšona. Di aga magae a tšona mokgwa wo mobe. Maikarabelo ke a sekolo. Thuto ke senotlelo
ka botswerere le bohlale bjoo bo makatšago. Legae la phoofolo sa bokamoso. Maikarabelo ke a batswadi. Ngwana wa go se
ke letšaba. Diphoofolo di hlompha matšaba a tšona gobane ke eletšwe, o lahlile tsela. Maikarabelo ke a setšhaba. Se se šalago ke
botšhabelo bja tšona. gore baithuti ba swanetše ba be le maikarabelo. Ba ruteng go
Dikhutlong tše nne tša lefase, batho ba phatlaletše go tšwa ikarabela ka mokgwa wa maleba.
magaeng a bona, go yo nyaka diiša maleng, ka ge ba re tlala e Lethabo Motswaledi (Grade 11)
ntšhitše noga ka moleteng; efela ge ba šetše di bea tshwijaneng, ba
leba magae go yo ipolokela tšona dišegong. Menate ke Thuta Ke Senotlelo Sa Bophelo
menatenate, fela ge e fela motho mang le mang o gopola gae. Go
ba le ntlo ga se go ba le legae. Ntlo ke moago woo go wona o Senotlelo gare ga dinotlelo. Sephiri gare ga diphiri. Sona sehlare
phelago eupša legae ke lefelo leo o hwetšago khutšo ge o fihlile go sa bjoko. Sona sehlare sa bodiidi. Wena thuto senotlelo sa
lona. Gae ga Mahlako.....Legae botšhabelo bja diphidi . bophelo bjaka.Ke tshela mawatle ke lebile lesedi la gago. Ke
Dimpho Matlala (Grade 11) hlaba mokgoši wa go swana le ngwana, ke re tate nthekele
seanamarena kobo ya thuto. Thuto senotlelo sa bophelo bjaka.
Bophelo ke Maikarabelo Se mphonyokge, ditlamorago tša gago ke dinaletšana tše
kganyago. O se mphonyokge, go tanta ga gago go rothiša ditete.
Ke masa. E sa le manyami. Baithuti ba thuntšha lerole mebileng Thuto matsebatšohle. O swere lefase ka bophara magetleng a
ya lekheišene. Bangwe ba a gwanta, ba bangwe ba a bina. Yo gago. O bula difofu mahlo. Wena motsoši wa balwetši. Thuto
mongwe o letša mmino wa go tšwa sefatanageng sa gagwe. Lešata nkapare. Thuto, wena senwelo saka. O bula mabati a menyetla.
le tla se kwe ke mang? Gape le ka kgeresa dithaba. Baithuti bao e O bula mabati a mešomo. Ka nnete thuto ke maatla. Wena
sa le ba tsogela sekolong masa a maabane. Le bjalo ga se ke ba kgarebe leba thuto, tlogela masogana. Tlogela menate ya lefase.
boya gae. Bontši bja bona ba ka mphatong wa Marematlou. O ka Di tlogelo ka moka o lebe senotlelo sa bophelo. Dikatara ga di
ipotšiša gore nako ya dipapadi tše kaaka ba e hwetša kae?
137PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris
Background artwork: Marie-Claire van den Berg Grade 12

Viewpoint: Sepedi

Skye Hendey Grade 12

Nicole Dawson Grade 12 Marie-Claire van den Berg Grade 12

fele. Go fela motho. re šupetša tafola ye re dulago go yona. Re rile ge re dula ba re
Phafoga maseng a marega. Tsoga dipuleng tša selemo. Bala amogela gape ka senomaphodi sa go thapiša mogolo. Re ile re sa
maswiswing a bošego. Tšhuma kerese. E tšhume e go bonegele le gare re theoša senomaphedi ra kwa go hlabwa mekgolokwane
tsele. Latela lesedi la yona kgarebe o tle o atlege. Thuto nkapare. ya Iiuuu. Ke ge re bona monyadi a etšwa le diphelesi tša gagwe
Thuto wena lerumo la lefase. Thuto sehlare sa bophelo. Wena ba lebile gabo monyadiwa ba ile go mo gahlanetša.
nnete setšhabeng. Mahumo a ka fela. Bose bo feta le moya. O ka Le rena ra ema ra ba šala morago re binela di koša tše dibose tša
sotlwa bjang le bjang. Tseba wena moithuti. thuto ke se notlelo sa diphala. Aowa, re ile ra ipshina ka go lahla moletse gore ge eba
bophelo. Go se tsebe ke kotši. Wena Thuto bula mabati a leoto le kgaoga le kgaoge. Ge re fihla gabo monyadiwa, le yena a
makgonthe a kgodiakgokgo o notlele ka senotlelo sa gago. Thuto tšwa le diphelesi tša gagwe o apere lešira le le botse kudu le le
go ya go ile. Thuto nkapare. Šaate!!! tšhweu, k era lona la dira ga di bonwe. Diphelesi le tšona di be di
Thato Ramahuta ( Grade 10) apere diroko tša go kgahliša tše talaleratadima. Re ile ra bina re
šetše monyadi le monyadiwa morago re lebile tenteng. Ka
Monyanya wa lenyalo motsotso woo ke ge monyadiwa o a eja leoto bjalo ka mosetsana
wa mengwage ye 16. A sa kgahliši, a sa kgahliši, a phadima
Ruri! Go sepela ke go bona, monyanya wa go swana le wola ga sa sefahlego se se tletše ka lethabo. O ile ge a lebile seferong sa
ka ka o bona. Re ile ge re fihla ba re amogela ka diatla tše pedi ba tente ye tšhweu, ye kgolo a gahlanetšwa ka mekgolokwane.
Mmalo! Mathakga oa a bego a le mowe, ke be ke thoma go a
138 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris bona. Nako ya gore moruti a ba nyalantšhe e ile ya fihla gomme
moruti a šegofatša lenyalo la bona. Ba ile ba ikana gore ba tla
kgaogantšhwa ke lehu. Ba apešane dipalamonwana tša bona tša
silibera le gauta ge ba fetša ba atlana.
Monyadi le monyadiwa ba ile ba tšwa ka tenteng ka koša ye e
rego “mme matswale” ya Malika. Ba ile ba ya go hlobola lešira le
sutu, gomme ba apara diaparo tša setšo. Ge ba fetša ba ya
madulong a bona ba apere diaparo tša bona tša setšo. Nako ya
go fepa mpa le yona e ile ya fihla. Gape tšie e fofa ka mošwang.
Dijo tša gona o kgona go kwa monkgo wa tšona di sa tla kgole.
E be e tloga e le tšona tša marena. Di be di rothiša mare. Ka
morago ga letena, dimpho di ile tša ntšhwa. Di be le tloga di feta
mabu le matlakala. Ga sa ka ka bona dimpho tše kaaka.
Tirelo Modiba (Grade 10)

Viewpoint: German

C reativGeWermraitning

Das Fuβballfieber bei Girls High Carole Godfrey Grade 12
Madelize Geldenhuys Grade 10
Am Donnerstagmittag, der 23. September haben die Klassen zehn
bis zwölf deutsche Mädels Fuβball gespielt.
Weltmeisterfuβballfieber ist wieder bei Girls High gewesen und
jede Klasse hatte eine Mannschaft. Frau de Kock und Frau du Toit,
unsere Deutschlehrerinnen, waren die Schiedsrichterinnen. Der
ganze Mittag war ein Kampf, weil alle die Meisterkrone tragen
wollten. Jede Mannschaft hat zwei extrem schwierige Spiele
gespielt. Nach vielem Schwitzen hat die Klasse zwölf gewonnen
und die Gewinner haben jeder eine Karamellschokolade
bekommen. Nachher haben alle Mannschafte Mittagessen und
Apfelschorle zusammen genossen. Es gab Aufschnitt, Brötchen,
Käse und Kekse zum Mittagessen. Es hat viel Spaβ gemacht, so
einen Mittag mit einander zu erleben. Die deutsche Klassen sagen
Vielen Dank an Frau du Toit und Frau de Kock, die alles
organisiert haben.
Nadine Hetzler (Klasse 10)

Immer Ich

Die Sonne meint, ich muss lächeln
Der Scmetterling meint, ich muss Eis essen
De Blume meint, ich muss springen
Der Regenbogen meint, ich muss singen
Die Welt meint, ich muss LEBEN!

Und. . . was musst du?

Azille Schulze, Rebecca Wise, Chantelle Fekete, Liezel Swiegers (Klasse 11)

Madelize Geldenhuys Grade 10 Catherine Tait Grade 11

139PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: French

C reativFerWencrhiting

Rapport d'un témoin au commissariat monsieur a détourné son attention pour un instant et j'ai couru à
ma chambre où j'ai fermé la porte à clé. Ayant un besoin urgent
Je viens de témoigner un terrible accident entre une voiture et d'être hors du danger, je me suis cachée sous le lit. Peu de temps
une piétonne. après, ils ont forcé la porte et m'y ont trouvée.
Alors, je traversais la rue quand tout d'un coup j'ai entendu Nous étions impuissants. On nous a bandé les yeux et nous étions
quelqu'un qui criait. Je me suis tournée et là j'ai vu une voiture ligotés. Nous avons écouté avec peur pendant qu'ils volaient
noire qui s'est arrêtée au milieu de la rue. Par terre il y avait la toutes nos choses de valeur. Cinq heures après, ils s'en sont allés.
piétonne que la voiture avait renversée. C'était une jeune fille Nous étions encore impuissants et la maison était vide.
qui ne bougeait pas, il me semblait qu'elle ne respirait non plus. À cause du cet incident, de cette agression, nous avons décidé de
Le chauffeur de la voiture était totalement choqué. déménager en Afrique du Sud, le pays natal de mes parents. Nous
On dit que la jeune fille rentrait de l'école quand la voiture, qui y avions des parents et nous étions certains que nous y
roulait trop vite, l'a atteinte. J'espère que la jeune fille ne s'est pas trouverions une meilleure vie. En juin 2000, je suis devenue
blessée mais d'après ce que j'ai vu, je crois qu'elle est morte. C'est citoyenne sud-africaine.
une chose terrible et très triste pour sa famille. Maintenant, malgré les cauchemars et la paranoïa, je me rends
Laurali Coehlo (Grade 10) compte qu'à quelque chose malheur est bon. Le déménagement
en Afrique du Sud m'a offert une bonne vie et plus de possibilités
La coupe du monde 2010 d'y réussir. Malgré mes rêves hantés, l'agression m'a donné une
histoire à raconter...
Enfin le jour est arrivé! Les joueurs étaient prêts et portaient Sofia Zway (Grade 12)
leurs chaussures blanches et leurs uniformes de sport.
Ce n'était pas du foot ordinaire qui est joué par de beaux jeunes Quand je serais grande
hommes comme on voit à la télé. Ce match a été joué par les filles
de Girls High: une équipe de “sud-afs” contre une autre de Quand je serais grande
“françaises” ! Il y avait beaucoup de blessures, mais le plus J'aurai une amie allemande
important c'était que nous nous sommes bien amusées ! J'aurai beaucoup de belles chaussures
Pour moi, c'était bien de jouer contre les filles d'Afrique du Sud. Et je n'aurai pas trop de cours !
À la fin du match, les sud-afs étaient déçues: le score de 3 – 0 a
montré que les filles françaises étaient les meilleures! Quand je serai très, très riche
Merci beaucoup à Mlle de Kock d'avoir organisé la journée du Et j'aurai beaucoup d'affiches
coupe de monde 2010. C'était tellement agréable! L'année Je mangerai beaucoup de chocolat
prochaine il faut jouer contre les allemandes pour leur montrer Et beaucoup de glace – oh là-là !
qui sont les plus supérieures!
Monique Bennett (Grade 10) Quand je serai grande
Je ne sais pas quand
Mes rêves hantés Je serai éditrice, actrice, ingénieur ?
Je ne sais pas – mais je le saurai !
Je suis hantée par mes rêves. Je suis hantée par les souvenirs de Katy Godfrey (Grade 10)
mon enfance. Je ne veux pas m'en rappeler, mais je ne peux pas
les oublier non plus... Si…
J'avais huit ans – une fille dynamique et contente qui habitait
l'Équateur. Ma famille et moi, nous étions en train de dîner avec Si les rêves se réalisaient
des amis suisses. Tout le monde bavardait avec enthousiasme. Je visiterais tous les monuments du monde -
Nos amis voulaient retourner chez eux pour la nuit, donc nous Comme la tour Eiffel en France
sommes allés dehors pour leur dire “bonne nuit.” Tout à coup, il Les Colossaux en Italie
y a eu huit inconnus à notre porche. Huit inconnus et un La Maison Blanche aux Etats-Unis et bien sûr
revolver. La Montagne de Table, ici en Afrique du Sud!
<< Si vous coopérez, tout ira bien>> le monsieur nous a dit.
Quel mensonge! Rien ne s'est bien passé! J'avais peur de leur Je serais comme Mozart et je jouerais de belles symphonies,
revolver mais je ne comprenais pas bien ce qui se passait. Le

140 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Viewpoint: French

Comme da Vinci, je ferais les chefs-d'œuvre et Je suis tellement fier de lui, mon fils, je ne peux pas attendre te le
Comme Einstein, je ferais une équation très difficile en maths présenter.
ou en physique ! À bientôt, mon cher ami.
Affectueusement,
J'irais en Espagne pour regarder les matchs de foot dans de Ibrahim
grands stades et finalement… Zizi Dlamini (Grade 12)
Je rencontrerais mon chanteur préféré - Josh Groban !
Bianca Rudolph Grade 12
Je ferais tout … si seulement mes rêves se réalisaient.
Siphokazi Manana (Grade 11) Ji Ha Kim Grade 12

C'est quoi, un ami ? 141PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Un ami, à mon avis, est quelqu'un avec qui on peut parler de tout
et de rien sans avoir peur. Un ami aide n'importe quand avec ses
problèmes. Ce n'est pas nécessaire d'avoir les mêmes goûts, je
crois. Selon moi, c'est assez d'avoir, tout simplement, de l'amour.
Ma meilleure amie habite en Suisse, mais je sais que je peux lui
raconter tous mes secrets sans peur, et elle, elle sait aussi qu'elle
peut faire la même chose avec moi. Nous avons les goûts
différents, mais, en même temps, nous ne nous disputons jamais.
Elle pense que je dois avoir plus de confiance en moi, alors elle
me motive et me donne des conseils. Moi, je crois qu'elle est un
peu trop stressée, alors je lui conseille toujours de se calmer. Je ne
sais pas ce que je ferais sans elle.
Ainsi donc, un ami peut avoir les goûts différents, ou peut même
habiter un autre pays, mais on peut toujours lui parler pour se
rassuré du lien et de l'amitié qui existe.
Simone le Roux (Grade 11)

Monsieur Ibrahim écrit … Paris, le 3 juillet

Cher Abdullah,

Ça fait bien longtemps que je ne t'ai pas vu ; tu me manques
beaucoup. Oh là-là que de bonnes nouvelles ai-je pour toi !

J'ai passé une année intéressante. Paris et la rue Bleue n'ont pas
changé mais Brigitte Bardot, la vedette célèbre, a passé quelques
jours ici pour tourner un film. C'était magnifique et elle, elle était
magnifique ! Beaucoup de gens sont venus la voir. Tu ne me
croiras pas mais elle a acheté une bouteille d'eau à l'épicerie pour
F40 ! Oui, je sais que c'est trop cher mais il y avait un garçon qui
avait volé dans mon épicerie donc je devais me rembourser, n'est-
ce pas ?

Ce garçon qui m'avait volé est devenu mon fils. Imagines-toi - je
l'ai adopté il y a quelques mois. Il s'appelle Moïse, Momo en fait.
Sa mère l'a abandonné et son père a disparu et plus tard il est mort
; il s'est jeté sous un train. C'est dommage, non ? La procédure de
l'adoption a été une vraie bataille. Tu sais comment les
fonctionnaires travaillent avec leurs tampons. Néanmoins, nous
avons finalement gagné ! Et voilà, j'arrive bientôt au village avec
Momo. En fait, nous partirons demain matin. Je veux lui montrer
les différents lieux religieux en route. Nous traverserons la
Suisse et la Grèce. Je veux lui montrer des cathédrales catholiques
et des églises orthodoxes. Finalement, on ira à la mosquée bleue
en Turquie. Je pense qu'il faut qu'il y tourne. Il a déjà eu tellement
de malheurs dans sa jeune vie quand même.

Un autre choque pour toi - on arrive en voiture – ma voiture ! J'ai
appris à conduire mais comme conducteur, j'en suis nul! Alors ce
sera Momo qui conduira la belle voiture rouge.

Hoaupspeesnings

RCL Induction

142 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Happenings

RCL Camp

143PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Hoaupspeesnings

Grade 8 Camp

144 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

HATFIELD

Toyota Hilux Toyota Yaris Zen

Buy your new / used
Toyota from us.

Tel: 012 427 8600

Mon - Fri 07:30 - 18:00
Sat 08:00 - 13:00

http://hatfield.mctoyota-gauteng.co.za/index.cfm.

Hatfield
C/o Duncan & Schoeman Street

012 427 8600

Hoaupspeesnings

EEC

146 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Happenings

Inter-house Athletics

147PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris

Haoupspeesnings

Inter-house Gala

148 PHSG 1902-2010 • The Iris