The Iris Magazine 2009

Volleyball

VOLLEYBALL 2ND TEAM (U19B) VOLLEYBALL 3RD TEAM (U19C)

Back Row (L-R): Sibongile Mahlangu, Shadi Monkoe, Vanessa da Silva, Back Row (L-R): Chelsea Patterson, Susan April, Nicole Camara,
Ashley Gandy, Diane Mathibe Storm Whitmore, Bronwyn Binedell
Front Row (L-R): Mpho Biko, Ms B Cass, Mariska Grimbeek, Front Row (L-R): Simone le Roux, Jessica Hiestermann (Assistant
Laura du Plessis (Coach), Tenushka Govender Coach), Pamela Matsebanana

VOLLEYBALL U16A TEAM VOLLEYBALL U16B TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Nthabiseng Chabedi, Meghann Pike, Clarissa Payne, Back Row (L-R): Dominique de Almeida, Chloe Erasmus, Faithful
El-Jean du Preez, Sisa Manzini, Andrea Manuel Ijeoma, Kelly Johnson, Elizabeth Biggs, Emma Aihoon, Lauren Livanos
Front Row (L-R): Laurali Coelho, Monique Smalley, Charlotte Mdletshe Front Row (L-R): Nicole Ponelis, Yollande Tshimbombo, Laura du Plessis
(Coach), Mapula Maponya, Tanya Ludik (Coach), Coach Werner, Folake Olukunhle, Naa Anum

VOLLEYBALL U14 TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Frances Everett, Ziyanda Sithole, Joanne van den Berg,
Caileen Lubbe, Andrea Hattingh, Sabrina James, Tinyko Ngobeni, Masego
Masoanganye, Luyanda Ramorotho
Middle Row (L-R): Tlami Motshego, Caley Hill, Bernadette Louw, Tiiso
Maluleke, Ceinwen Rikkers, Thokozile Malaza, Leandra Filippis, Dee
Nkau, Balekane Legoage, Delise Francis
Front Row (L-R): Gretchen Tsotetsi, Mr P Niemann, Jessica Hiesterman
(Coach), Jess Gregory, Ms A Swanepoel, Coach Werner, Raquel dos Santos

99PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Water Polo

Water Polo

Our Water Polo season started in Term IV of 2008 for the new major tournaments were the St Peter’s Festival and the Aquatics
First Team. It was a great season and our polo girls were Festival. It was a great experience and really tested us as players.
“tighter” than our costumes, which are already three times too Congratulations to Christine Roos for achieving South African
small. Colours this year and well done to junior teams for their
Our new coach, Tammy Talbolt, worked well with a very young determination and enthusiasm.
and inexperienced team, making us a team of quality. Two of our Christine Roos (Grade 12)

WATER POLO 1ST TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Nadine Boshoff,
Stephani Ellington, Marissa Bester,
Lee Ann Holliday
Middle Row (L-R): Olivia Middleton,
Heynieke Brits, Jade Janeke, Rochelle Kirstein,
Lisa Pickering
Front Row (L-R): Teresa Griessel,
Christine Roos, Ms L Austin,
Kerry Bodenstein, Nicola Hayes

WATER POLO 2ND TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Genevieve Rauff,
Kylann Robertse, Jade Twiname,
Liezel Swiegers, Kaylee Higgins,
Briony Simon, Maureen Grobbleaar,
Anita Landsberg, Kiara Potgieter
Front Row (L-R): Kelin Oelofsen,
Coach Dennis, Megan Boegman,
Ms L Austin, Jennifer Davis

100 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Water Polo

WATER POLO U16 TEAM WATER POLO U15 TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Jana Kühn, Erin Howard, Bronwyn Aspeling, Back Row (L-R): Grethe van Aswegen, Rachel Blew, Bergen Massyn,
Paula Schutte, Luzaan Heyns, Cammy Trollope, Tomané Freel, Missy Hayes, Robyn Steyn, Maryke Westerveld, Alexis McKenzie
Karisma Erasmus, Stacey Braithwaite Front Row (L-R): Eyna Mohamed, Courtney Jordaan, Mr L Niemandt,
Front Row (L-R): Kaylah Walter, Jemma Lamb, Lize Maartens (Coach), Kayla Greger, Tarryn Wishart
Mr F Ferreira, Liezel van Graan

WATER POLO U15B TEAM WATER POLO U14 TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Tyler Orfao, Kirsten Jordaan, Carol Venn, Back Row (L-R): Andrea Hattingh, Taryn Kotzé, Stephanie Baker,
Kirsty Badenhorst, Kelby Pastor Kirsty Symmonds, Chandré Jooste, Catherine Kennard
Front Row (L-R): Chazwyn Ferreira, Samantha Cowan, Mr L Niemandt, Middle Row (L-R): Stephanie Fichard, Courtney Theys, Danielle Bolink,
Mmabatho Mashioane, Caitlin Murray Natasha Keenan, Jaydene Keenan, Laura Russell, Chelsea Hayes, Lauren van Zyl
Front Row (L-R): Caylin Nell, Bridget Uys, Ms L Austin,
Telana Janse van Vuuren, Mieke van der Westhuizen

101PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Cultural Highlights

Cultural Highlights

The Iris17062 PHPSHGS1G90129-0220-02900•8T• ThHeEIIRrISis

Music

Choirs

SENIOR CHOIR

ABSENT: Mr M Barrrett, Thando Jaji, Amelia Potgieter, Thato Mahuma, Thandiwe Makhatini
Back Row (L-R): Catherine Humphries, Bridgette Tamukedde, Siphe Ziqhu, Helen Acres, Chloé Cormack, Refilwe Mthimunye, Kendall Harbour,
Bronwyn Pieters, Ruthanne Harbour, Nicole Liebenberg, Dominique Skeen, Zaheeda Tshankie, Rea Segoati, Lesedi Peu
Middle Row (L-R): Chisomo Nthulane, Mrs R Spruyt (Choir manager), Roxette Malala, Wilmaré Dippenaar, Danielle Millar, Melissa Pike,
Didi Onwu, Néteske Horton, Skye Pienaar, Terri-Sharné Kearns, Lethabo Motswaledi, Caitlin Pike, Masego Seboka, Wawa Nkosi, Elise de Kock,
Tshegofatso Phele
Front Row (L-R): Reabetsoe Nkoane, Onthatile Mokoena, Boitshoko Mochaki, Lebogang Kgothadi, Bonita Lubbe, Sibongile Matema, Alison Fourie,
Song-Ha Choi, Miliswa Ndziba, Jolandi Swanepoel, Matildah Nkwane, Nancy Nthulane, Olé Morolo, Kgomotso Mogadime, Cleo Floudiotis,
Anelisa Tabata, Akhona Mafenuka, Hloni Matlebyane

Choirs UNIVERSITY OF PRETORIA YOUTH CHOIR

This year was one full of new experiences and tons of fun. Front Row (L-R): Tshego Phele, Elise de Kock, Skye Pienaar,
Our main aim was obviously the tour to Wales in July Alison Fourie, Masego Seboka

2009. All our performances were in preparation to battle it 103PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris
out at the Llangollen Musical Eisteddfod. The Choir tour
turned out to be an ultimate success. The choir is now
officially the second best female choir in the world. Our
year was also filled with some surprises. We had our first
mixed choir performances with the Pretoria Boys High
School choir and world-renowned choir master and
conductor.

We had the time of our lives and we would just like to
thank Mr Barrett, Mrs Spruyt, Mrs du Toit and Mrs
McNair for making it all possible.
Siphesihle Ziqhu (Grade 12)

Music

JUNIOR CHOIR

ABSENT: Mr M Barrett
Back Row (L-R): Kristin Milton, Ailyn Nienaber, Faith Mabena, Mia van Schalkwyk, Ellen Heydenrich, Heather Smith, Chloé Erasmus,
Aimeé Thompson, Nicole Patrick, Sarah Thompson, Sarah Seo, Sharuth Milton, Frances Everett, Charnito Esau
Middle Row (L-R): Bronwyn Rodda, Saneh Memela, Vanessa Jacobs, Malebo Sedibeng, Megan van der Zwan, Tiiso Maluleke, Jadie Carleson,
Ursula Makibelo, Meghan Pike, Claudia Summers, Keitumetse Namane, Denise Onen, Kathleen Goss, Warindi Kebera
Front Row (L-R): Moloko Masipa, Portia Banda, Kholofelo Mulaudzi, Denise Kabugujjo, Melissa Repton, Michaela Cox, Sunny Yang,
Kholeka Khuzwayo, Murunwa Masibigiri, Kagiso Mphuthi, Meisie Modiga, Tiisetso Matlebyane, Didi Mathibe, Mrs R Spruyt (Choir Manager)

Four Schools Concert

104 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Music

Orchestra

ORCHESTRA
Back Row (L-R): Isabello Kao, Netéske Horton, Shanna-Leigh Davidson, Jung-ha Kim, Sin-ji Lee, Amanda Schutte, Kristina Jovanovic,
Danielle van Wyk, Kirsten Chamberlain, Diana Mawoko, Megan Boegman, Maé du Toit, Nicole Patrick, Shandu Nefolovhodwe, Esther Park,
Erika Braune
3rd Row (L-R): Lean Goslett, Jenny Chen, Jacqui Hawker, Yin-ting Yen, Kirstin Sprenger de Rover, Caitlin Cameron, Aviva Hoekstra,
Azille Schulze, Jana Kühn, Ailyn Nienaber, Jodie Carelsen, Ishara Wheatley, Sharon Wu, Anelia de Waal, Meghan Pike, Hwa-Hae Lee,
Raquel Jones
2nd Row (L-R): Abby van Niekerk, Sung-Ha Choi, Sheree Leong, Mrs V Hohls, Hannah Fobian, Mrs N van Wyk, Samantha Ferreira,
Liang Yu, Catherine Anthony
Front Row (L-R): Cleo Floudiotis, Nancy Nthulane, Kagiso Mphuti, Reabetsoe Nkoane, Bianca Rudolph, Miliswa Ndziba, Ji-ha Kim,
Lauren Brooks

Orchestra A concert was then presented by the joint orchestra. Our
orchestra’s talents and abilities were showcased in the Sunday
“Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life” Morning Concerts, Concert in the Garden, Easter Service and
The sense of unity in our orchestra and our passion for music in various assemblies. We were again invited to play in the
springs from our hearts and, collectively, it creates a lingering effect. annual Kingsmead Orchestra Festival. Many compliments
The PHSG orchestra has once again grown considerably this year, were received following our performance.
increasing from forty-one to fifty-six members! We started the year Unfortunately, this year went by too quickly, but the Gala
with much enthusiasm and excitement, which have been evident in Concert and the Four Schools’ Concert ended this
our performances throughout the year. Each section has fruitful year on a good note. The woodwind and
increased, especially the cello and flute sections. The percussion string ensembles had the opportunity to
section consists of a black drum set and includes the clicking of perform at Queenswood Retirement Village.
fingers by the orchestra in “American Patrol”. I have been greatly enriched and privileged to
The pieces we have played have been versatile, catchy and fun to serve as the leader of a wonderfully, talented
perform. Pieces ranged from Beauty and the Beast to a Beach Boys group of musicians.
Medley to Mamma Mia and Phantom of the Opera and more. This Hannah-Marie Fobian (Grade 12)
repertoire turned out so well thanks to Mrs Hohls and Mrs van Wyk
whose dedication and commitment to the orchestra have been
amazing!
A first for the orchestra this year was the National Girls’ Schools
Festival. Over twenty pupils from other schools joined our
orchestra for two days, where intensive practising took place.

Music

SIMFONIA JUVENTI

Bianca Rudolph, Erika Braune

STRING ENSEMBLE

ABSENT: Sheree Leong, Diana Mawoko
Back Row (L-R): Kagiso Mputhi, Cleo Floudiotis,
Jacqui Hawker, Kirsten Chamberlain, Lauren Brookes,
Erika Braune, Ishara Wheatley
Front Row (L-R): Sheree Leong, Mrs V Hohls,
Sam Ferreira

WOODWIND ENSEMBLE

Back Row (L-R): Caitlin Cameron, Danielle van Wyk,
Maé du Toit, Shanna-Leigh Davidson
Front Row (L-R): Mrs N van Wyk, Abby van Niekerk

106 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Music

Rhythmony

RHYTHMONY

Back Row (L-R): Terri-Sharne Kearns, Masego Seboka, Nolwazi Mabena, Tebogo Siwela, Boitumelo Ledwaba, Ofentse Moropa
Middle Row (L-R): Maria Banda, Meisie Modiga, Phindi Mogashane, Siphe Ziqhu, Nothando Mudzingwa, Hloni Matlebyane
Front Row (L-R): Manana Tsoagong, Lesedi Peu, Mr M Ndlovu, Mrs I Maas, Thato Mahuma, Mologadi Molala

Rhythmony was yet again able to unite and address cultural down with an astounding performance and an appreciative
differences this year. We defied racial, cultural and ethnic audience. In the finale, the group had much fun performing
boundaries by making magnificent music. There were a songs from the well known group, Abba, with the Pretoria
number of highlights for 2009. A splendid performance at the Boys’ High School gumboot dancers, amongst many other
Mother and Daughter tea. With double the confidence and cultural groups.
enthusiasm, the group went on to perform at the Woodlands Gratitude is due to Mrs Maas for all the tireless effort she put
Boulevard, where we attracted and entertained a massive into making this year a success for the group. Then, of
crowd calling for more of what we gave. In Term Two, our course, the man behind the vocal phenomenon, Mr Mbuso
voices waged war against the scorching heat in the Concert in Ndlovu, for the great choice of music, continued support
the Garden performance on a lovely Sunday afternoon. and encouragement as well as his fun demonstrations of
Finally, we had great triumph at the Tshwane Youth Arts musicality during rehearsals.
Festival at the State Theatre, where we brought the house Thandokazi Jaji (Grade 12)

107PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Music

Blue Tie

BLUE TIE ENSEMBLE

ABSENT: Mrs Raconzier, Emilie-Rose Oldnall
Back Row (L-R): Kirstin Sprenger de Rover, Shanna-Leigh Davidson, Mrs V Hohls, Neteske Horton, Lehlogonolo Khwinana
Front Row (L-R): Boipelo Makwiting, Nkalipho Molala, Abigail Bloem

108 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Music

Concert in the Garden

109PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Clubs and Societies

Clubs and Societies

HEAD OF CLUBS AND SOCIETIES

Back Row (L-R): Siphe Ziqhu, Frances Moerdyk, Shereen Kennard, Zizi Dlamini, Kerry Bodenstein, Tessa Dodds, Chyrssie-Anne Roberts,
Hannah Fobian
Front Row (L-R): Thando Jaji, Kgothatso Lephoko, Shelley Nowosenetz, Nicola Williams, Kasulwa Masondo, Lebogang Kgothadi, Sofi Zway

Aerobics, Taebo and Self Defence

We have had another fun-filled year. Our instructor, Laurencia Kok, has
been keeping us hard at work. Mrs Kok has a 6th Dan Black belt and has
been doing karate for thirty years. She is also a qualified Taebo instructor
and has been teaching for nine years. Together we worked off all our
chocolates and toned all the necessary muscles. With over a hundred
girls wanting to attend it was a hard job trying to cut down our numbers
to something more manageable.
Chryssie-Anne Roberts (Grade 10)

Amnesty International Our visit to Freedom Park

“We believe that human rights abuses anywhere are the concern of images were well received. Amnesty was fortunate enough to visit The
people everywhere.” Freedom Park for an inspiring tour in the second term.
True to our ideology, Amnesty was very active this year. Our notice Our year has definitely been exciting and eventful and we must not
board was updated weekly with articles and cartoons for everyone to see. forget to thank Ms Cator for all her support and guidance.
Our very first session included name-games and ice-breakers to welcome Sofi Zway and Saneze Tshayana (Grade 11)
our many new members. We held heated discussions about core human
rights issues – the death penalty, school violence, and positive discipline
linked to our rights as students. We also watched three films this year:
‘Cry Freedom’, ‘God Grew Tired of Us’ and ‘The Choir’ to encourage
further discussion about issues presented in the films. Jeanique
Pretorius in Grade 12 produced a special PowerPoint presentation linked
to Human Rights Day. This was screened in assembly and its powerful

110 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Clubs and Societies

Art Chess

Another successful year of Art Club is drawing to a close and among
the various etchings, silk screens, lino cuts and sculptures, creativity has
once again enveloped the minds of the girls in this club. Under the
careful leadership of Mrs Booysen, we were privileged enough to let
ourselves dwell in all that is art and learn valuable skills. Not only did we
complete numerous projects, many of which were entered into
exhibitions and competitions alike, but we also enjoyed the different
facets that the Art Club has to offer: meeting new people, learning
about our own talents but most importantly exploring the most honest
form of art, that of self expression.
Luët Buys (Grade 12)

Bridge CHESS CLUB

Every year the Girls’ High Bridge Club gains more and more popularity, Back Row (L-R): Jiha Kim, Louise van Tonder, Sophia Liu, Fei- Fei Qi,
especially with the junior girls who are all eager to find out what goes on Aye-Chan Htun, May Khine Kyaw
every Tuesday in Room 57. Mrs Cowan very ably took over the running Front Row (L-R): Keyuri Naidoo, Mr P Niemann, Palesa Rammego (Captain),
of the club this year, occasionally helped out by Mrs Holzhausser. We Mrs S Labuschagne, Belinda Harding
also welcomed Mrs Hack who volunteered to coach us. The first term
was a flurry of activity, having to teach new girls the basics of bridge Overwhelming, but as always exciting and fulfilling – that’s Girls High
and for the seniors and regular members, having to remember whether Chess.
Hearts are higher than Clubs! At the beginning of the year we welcomed the usual bright-eyed and
Term Two saw things becoming more serious with twenty-four girls curious Grade 8s and Mr Niemann who became our team coach.
competing in the Bridge Inter-high Tournament held by the Pretoria Throughout 2009, the chess members took part in several
Bridge Club. Many new friendships with the khaki-clad gang of Boys tournaments. The highlights for the year were: individual trials where
High and St Albans boys were made and a great deal of fun was had by two of our team members were placed; the National Girls’ Festival; the
all. Although the trophy was once again snatched from right under our Derby Day against Eunice where our beginners played very well; and
fingertips by the indomitable boys of Boys High, we managed to win the Second and Third Term leagues where we were placed third. The
the trophy for the Best North/South Couple and had another pair of National Girls’ Festival was the most challenging and rewarding of all
girls come second in that same category. Well done, ladies! our tournaments of the year as we were the hosts of the tournament
The rest of the year showed all the players improving their skills and and the bronze medal holders.
learning new ways of bidding and playing. Thank you to all the girls, At the district trials, Aye Chan Htun and Belinda Harding got special
Mrs Hack, Mrs Holzhausser and of course, Mrs Cowan for making this mention. Congratulations to Belinda for being chosen for the SA U18
year as wonderful as it was! Chess Team!
Shelley Nowosenetz (Grade 11) The team also had a school chess competition in which anyone could
participate. Thanks go to Mr Niemann, Mr de Villiers and Mrs

Labuschagne for their support and assistance and to
Keyuri Naidoo for being a great deputy.
I wish all the Chess team members well for the
future.
Paleso Rammego (Grade 12)

BRIDGE CLUB

ABSENT: Jae Lim, Cassandra Willers, Thobekani Mabasa,
Ellen Krüger, Portia Banda, Ashleigh September
Back Row (L-R): Sabrina James, Robyn Steyn, Megan Steyn,
Angel Janse van Rensburg, Perihan Abdel-Hafez, Allegra
Hoekstra
Middle Row (L-R): Bernadette Louw, Kieran Byrch,
Katy Godfrey, Heather Smith, Tanja Schmid,
Jesse-Kim Grundling, Megan van Staden, Emma Nurse
Front Row (L-R): Melissa Jeannes, Genevieve Edwards,
Mrs M Holzhäusser, Shelley Nowosenetz, Mrs J Cowan,
Courtney McDonald, Ansjé Vogel

111PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Clubs and Societies

Contact Club

Contact Club is involved with many different charities and we used to
spread our time between as many charity organisations as possible.
This year, under the guidance of Mrs van Heerden, we still gave to
many charities such as the Guide Dog Association, but decided to
focus more specifically on the Garden Project at Lethabo Lekhutso –
a home for autistic adults. Every week, we spent time fertilising the
soil, putting in an irrigation system and eventually planting our
vegetables.
Lethabo Lekhutso has benefited significantly from the time we had
spent with them. We will continue to pick one main project each year
and hope we can make a difference to more people as the years go by.
Jyssica Stückler (Grade 12)

Lending a helping hand at the Kalafong Cancer Ward

Lethabo Lekhutso Home for adults with autism Lending a helping hand at the Kalafong Cancer Ward

Debating DEBATING TEAM

2009 has proved to be a successful year for the society. Back Row (L-R): Ayanda Mbonani, Yollande Tshimbombo, Brynne Guthrie,
Our good fortune started right from the beginning when our former Devi Pillay, Gemma-May Grotepass, Morategi Kgale
head of the society, Tumi Ramofoko and Jolandi Swanepoel were Front Row (L-R): Mashadi Mogase, Zizi Dlamini, Mrs J Cÿrus,
selected to participate in the South African team trials. The rest of the Shandu Nefolovhodwe, Elise de Kock
senior team battled it out in Pretoria, winning the first two rounds of
the SACEE League debates. As the year progressed, so did the girls’ Mogase also won the trophy for Best Oralist. This was a splendid year
talent. Both our junior and senior teams made it to the provincial all around and we cannot wait to start debating in 2010.
rounds and our senior team finished fourth in the Province. One junior, Zizi Dlamini (Grade 11)
Irene Mpofu, was selected to try out for the provincial team as well as
Brynne Guthrie, Jolandi Swanepoel and Devi Pillay for the senior sides.
Both Brynne and Jolandi made Gauteng A and B teams, respectively.
This is a fine achievement for all these girls.
The one senior side participated in the African Schools’ Debating
Championships (ASDC), an invitational tournament, and came second.
Both the junior and senior teams took part in a debating competition
hosted by the Gauteng Department of Education. Both teams won the
competition. The MUN (Model United Nations) competitions proved
to be enlightening and educational , as always. We managed a third
position in the Security Council debates and fourth in the General
Assembly rounds. We also came third in the National Girls’ Schools’
Festival in May this year.
The last competition for the year, The Pretoria Schools’ Moot Court
competition, saw an all-PHSG final. This resulted in our being placed in
both first and second positions. We were delighted that Mashadi

112 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Clubs and Societies

DEBATING SOCIETY Drama

Back Row (L-R): Ellen Heydenrych, Giselle Kotzé, Mary-Ann Gettliffe, Gemma-May Grotepass, Headed by two passionate actresses, Kgothatso
Lili Passetti Lephoko and Lebogang Kgothadi, the Drama
Middle Row (L-R): Zinhle Novazi, Ayanda Mbonani, Yollande Tshimbombo, Devi Pillay, Club of 2009 commenced with the start of the
Siya Mbatha, Irene Mpofu, Morategi Kgale second term.
Front Row (L-R): Brynne Guthrie, Mashadi Mogase, Zizi Dlamini, Mrs J Cÿrus, The demand to be part of this fun-filled club
Shandu Nefolovhodwe, Elise de Kock, Lerato Phatudi exceeded expectations and many enthusiastic
individuals (mostly Grade 8s) signed up to be
members of both the Monday and Wednesday
sessions.
These sessions were crammed with activities
and tasks such as skits, plays, dances and poetry
recitations. Week after week the girls’
confidence levels grew and their knowledge of
terms like ‘projection’ and ‘masking’ increased.
Under the enriching guidance of Ms Russell
and Ms Dugmore, drama has been a fulfilling
club to head and may its body of members
continue on their journey of unleashing their
inner actresses.
Kgothatso Lephoko (Grade 12)

Ecology

This year, our club’s main focus was paper recycling. Claudia
Hetzler and her PRO team helped us greatly. Their slogan ‘Girls’
High is going green’ and the Paper Recycling Competition did not
leave us enough time on Thursday afternoons to collect all the
paper!
Our club went to Wet Nose in the third term. We donated blankets
and pet food from our generous girls and the proceeds from our
cake sale, held during break time.
A highlight in the second term was a demonstration on snakes. Our
Natural Sciences student teacher gave us a talk on the classification
of snakes. He brought in his pet snake to school.
We look forward to 2010 as we are planning to recycle more than just
paper. We are planning a depot point where parents may bring a
variety of items for recycling.
Ms M Buchel

First Aid number of new first aiders was trained and are currently serving the
school. PHSG reached a milestone in August 2009 after completing a
At the beginning of the first term, first aid kits and ice boxes in hand, the training course and can now be proud to host its first students
school’s First Aid Team stood ready to meet the new year and all its sporting a Level Three First Aid qualification. Under the wing of
challenges head on. 2009 has been a very eventful and demanding year for Sister Tanya Shenfield-Schwartz and Mrs de Sousa, the group has
all Girls’ High’s first aiders. In addition to serving dutifully each afternoon achieved a new level of commitment and selflessness and we thank
and assisting tirelessly at weekend sport fixtures, our budding ‘Florence them greatly for their enthusiasm and tireless leadership throughout
Nightingales’ assisted throughout the entire duration of the National the year.
Girls’ Schools Festival which took place at the beginning of May. This Nicola Williams (Grade 12)
experience served to sharpen our skills and greatly improved the unity of
the group. A Level One First Aid Course was held in the first term and a 113PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Clubs and Societies

FIRST AID

Back Row (L-R): Marie-Claire van den Berg,
Alexandra Linley, Busi Ntisa, Koketso Ntlatleng,
Daniella Ferguson, Megan Steyn, Alex Linley,
Simone Maree, Yin-ting Yen
3rd Row (L-R): Salema Sujee, Amber Burnett, Britney
Powell, Tamara Brand, Shereen Kennard, Helena Pikirayi,
Qaqamba Mgijima, Mary-Ann Gettliffe, Hannah Ryan,
Bronwyn Aspeling
2nd Row (L-R): Meriza van den Berg, Chansa Chansa,
Rufaro Rusike, Sr T Shenfield-Schwartz, Nicola Williams,
Didi Mogashane, Emma Alimohammadi
Front Row (L-R): Saneze Tshayana, Ingrid Lambert,
Boitumelo Masihlelo, Megan Boyd, Azille Schulze

In the Limelight

The world of journalism can be a tough and tiresome world to
work in, as I discovered when I became the editor of Limelight.
Although a small publication, the amount of interest I initially
received from my reporters was overwhelming. This year was the
first that Grade 8s were allowed to write for the paper and this saw
an increase in interest from the juniors. Each edition had a
different theme, with eye-candy and quotes to match the vibrant,
well –written articles. We produced a two-page picture special for
the National Girls’ Schools Festival which was well received by
everyone. Mr Niemandt joined the Limelight crew in the second
term, bringing much-needed inspiration to the team. He also
organised an excursion to Tuks where we learnt about the Tuks
publication and received a talk from the Journalism Department.
I’d like to thank my sub-editor, Thato Mabudusha, and Mrs Cÿrus
and Mr Niemandt for their constant advice and support. I’d also
like to encourage more girls to join the Limelight team so that it can
truly become a publication for the girls, by the girls.
Sofi Zway (Grade 12)

LIMELIGHT REPORTERS

ABSENT: Elise de Kock, Sibella Louw, Johanna Lubuma,
Michelle Zeller, Erin Humphries, Morgan Miskin
Back Row (L-R): Marie-Claire van den Berg,
Netéske Horton, Abbi du Preez, Abby van Niekerk,
Alex Linley, Brynne Guthrie, Shelley Nowosenetz
Middle Row (L-R): Raquel Jones, Tegan Mouton,
Tayla Calcott, Nana Ntsaluba, Boitumelo Masihleho,
Rachel Sola, Kholofelo Mamabolo
Front Row (L-R): Priyesha Gordhan, Zinhle Novazi,
Thato Mabudusha, Mr L Niemandt, Sofi Zway (Editor),
Ayanda Mbonani, Zaneta Boshoff

114 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Clubs and Societies

Museum Club Peer Tutor Programme

The School Museum underwent a change in 2009. The Museum The Peer Tutor Programme has in this year grown in leaps and bounds!
Club was replaced by eight Museum Monitors who assisted with the The programme consists of two parts namely: Tutoring which is applied
many tasks needed in maintaining the history of the school. This has for and House Tutoring which is for identified juniors. Although we lost
worked very effectively as the monitors have learned different skills many Grade 12 tutors at the end of last year, the Grade 10s of 2009 proved
and are starting to take more responsibility in their tasks. They to be able substitutes with over 50 doing the first course last year. This year
ensured that the annual Girls’ High Reunion display was interesting, became one of great change with new updated systems being
providing the Old Girls with many memories to make them nostalgic implemented in both Tutoring and House Tutoring. The Tutor Leader
about their days at PHSG. Thank you to all the girls involved for their Council (TLC) Members, which increased in size, worked very hard in
commitment and enthusiasm. getting to know the new system. They attended many meetings, organised
Mrs B Cloete documentation and helped with issuing new tutors in addition to their
regular duties. Some students from the University of Pretoria also ‘joined’
MUSEUM MONITORS the programme on a voluntary basis in order to help girls, particularly
those in Grades 8 and 9, who struggle with Mathematics. After a second
ABSENT: Shalom MaClean, Bonolo Kgomo, Kgomotso Nthodi call for training in the first week of Term 2, the tutor numbers grew to over
Back Row (L-R): Tsholo Mamoliki, Ramaredi Koikanyang, Shirneen Madhoo 300 tutors and 50 house tutors. These girls provide a valuable service to the
Front Row (L-R): Refilwe Makgalemane, Mrs B Cloete, Gontse Matsietsa school by working tirelessly to provide assistance to girls who require help
in various subjects. Past exam papers were also made available to the girls,
Peer Counselling which proved to be very helpful to many.
We would like to thank Sofi, Sherelyn and Lauren, who were part of the
Peer counselling started with a BANG! We welcomed our fourteen TLC Executive, for always helping us to implement all that was required.
new members to the peer counselling family with excited smiles. The TLC’s amazing effort and their willingness to work as a team is
Our thirty counsellors counselled tirelessly in the afternoons, always commendable! Thank you to the tutors for their commitment. Last, but
willing to jump in and help where they could. This year has seen definitely not least, there is no way we could have been able to do all that we
many more girls coming in the afternoons or just during breaks to did without Miss Turpin’s guidance, patience, motivation and much
talk to our counsellors. Our Friday meetings always bring about needed hugs throughout the year!
surprises and fun for the counsellors where they can bond and just Good Luck to Sofi – Head of the Tutor Programme and Lauren- Head of
get to know the group as a whole. The activities included finger the House Tutor Programme for next year!
painting, charades and of course, the care card (if you don’t know “Today’s youth are tomorrow’s leaders. Their success is held in our hands.”
what this is you had better ask the counsellors). Girls got excited, Shereen Kennard (Head of Tutor Programme)
when together with the RCL executive in charge of new girls, we Kgali Tshabalala (Head of House Tutor Programme)
hosted a new girls’ tea where we provided eats and drinks and
welcomed them to the PHSG family. This was well attended and Nicole Dawson Grade 11 Nicole Dawson Grade 11
was enjoyed by absolutely everyone. Nkamo and Shereen made it
their mission to get the peer counsellors noticed so that people Photography
would and could identify our caring young ladies on the corridors.
Counsellors had to bring along an ID photo of themselves and This was a fantastic year for the Photography Club. It started off with
these can be seen on the peer counselling notice board. With all some new faces, as well as some ‘old’ ones. The new members came with
being said, this year just seemed to whizz by yet again. Before we an enthusiasm and love for photography. There were a couple of
knew it, we were calling for the essays of prospective new peer disastrous and hilarious moments, some including a giant roll of
counsellors who would take the Grade 12s’ places. We had an photography paper… (inside joke). We recently held our own internal
overwhelming response which made it very difficult to pick twenty photography competition, in which we saw an amazing amount of talent
girls for the interview. This has been a fantastic year in peer from our members. A first for digital photography at PHSG, Mrs Joseph
counselling. Thank you to Mrs Godfrey, Nkamo, Carmyn, Tamryn spent many hours teaching us Photoshop techniques and we thank her for
and each and every one of you for making this year unforgettable. her patience. Some of our members competed in the school exhibition -
Shereen Kennard (Grade 12) congratulations to those who sold their photos. Thanks to all those who
made it a special year.
Tessa Dodds and Bridget Vlag (Grade 12)

115PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Clubs and Societies

Pottery Harbour experienced a few challenges, it was a successful camp overall.
We were also blessed with a new campsite where they served delicious
This year at Pottery Club we have welcomed back many of the usual food and offered great hospitality.
faces as well as an incredibly lively group of Grade 8s. As always, we SCA has continued to grow each and every year. Our Student Christian
got stuck into the clay and introduced the new girls to the ritual of Association wouldn‘t be what it is today, if it was not for Mrs Harbour.
‘giving your first pinch pot a funeral’. Although this may sound I would like to thank her for putting the effort and time into making
strange it really helps to break the ice and allows the girls to get a feel sure that everything is running smoothly and for always being there for
of using their hands to create something of their own. all the girls who attend.
Throughout the year they have made a vast variety of things from I trust that the Lord will bless the years to come with love, prosperity
bowls, name plates and masks that they have painted, glazed and then and growth.
taken home to share with their families. Roxette Malala (Grade 12)
There is always a cheerful vibe around the Pottery studio created by
the sounds of the wheels, the girls and their music but none of this
could be possible without my deputy, Eleanor Harding, and of
course, Mrs Greenberg and her never-ending ideas for new projects.
They are truly the reason why the Pottery Club has been such a
success this year.
Frances Moerdyk (Grade 12)

SCA

‘Anyone who becomes as humble as little children is the greatest in
the Kingdom of heaven.’ Matthew 18:4
This year, SCA was blessed with new eager members who wanted to
join the SCA family to learn more about God. Every Wednesday, Mrs
Harbour opened in prayer and different topics about faith would be
tackled every week during the first and second session.

STUDENT CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION Liang Yu was the Top Girl Learner in the 45th National Science Olympiad,
coming third overall in South Africa. She was also a finalist for a National Science
ABSENT: Carole Godfrey and technology Forum Award and one of four learners chosen to represent South
Back Row (L-R): Andisiwe Kumbaca, Lebo Sebolai, Kendall Harbour, Africa at the 2009 International Youth Science Forum in London.
Ruthanne Harbour, Lauren Hudson, Nkamo Mahlaela
Front Row (L-R): Khotlello Mooka, Oyama Mayedwa, Mrs S Harbour, Science
Roxette Malala, Anelisa Tabata
2009 saw us welcoming a new member to our small family of Einsteins.
Unexpectedly, the Grade 9s (instead of Grade 8s) were the largest Mrs Rahman joined us this year and came on board, filled with great
group this year who attended the two sessions in the hall. The Grade new ideas including mini assignments which had us investigating
12s, however, attended SCA only occasionally. different scientific theories by way of fun experiments in the lab, with
The girls enjoyed themselves through fun and games, praise and prior preparation at home.
worship, inspirational DVDs, Bible study and a talent show This was a year of heightened responsibility for all involved as each girl
(presented by SCA members). was expected to contribute her ‘expertise’ to the experiments
The third session this year, was run by an old girl, Chanelle Harbour, conducted as we chose our own experiments and explored the inner
who put a lot of effort into planning and co-ordinating the third working and successes and/or failures of each one in as much detail as
session. The SCA camp this year had a theme called “Amazing Race / possible.
Amazing Grace”. This was an amazing race that was life changing Thanks to the enthusiasm and exceptional dedication of our teachers,
and worthwhile. Although the committee (ten girls) and Mrs Mrs Mjadu and Mrs Rahman and that of all our members (special
mention to Sibongile and Kelly-Jane who led the younger members
116 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris with their exemplary behaviour and encouragement), we were able to
enjoy a year of scientific discovery which helps us all to appreciate more
fully the workings of the world in which we live.
I trust that this hardworking spirit, coupled with a zest for discovering
the meaning of Science in our world today, will continue to grow well
into 2010!
Kasulwa Masondo (Grade 12)

Clubs and Societies

Student Inter-Cultural Club

The Student Inter-Cultural Club, also known as SICC, is an
extraordinary club consisting of girls from different cultures. The
motto of SICC is ‘Unity in Diversity’ and we have successfully
managed to stick to this motto this year.
We had two big events. The one was the ever-popular SICC
Fashion Show held on 24 April 2009 in the school hall. The show
had a different concept to the previous shows. The theme for the
show was Coming to Mzanzi – in other words, Coming to South
Africa. We took the audience on a trip around beautiful South
Africa. The show consisted of dancers, models, singers and
presenters. The dancers outdid themselves with their crisp, clean

and fresh moves. Different dances were shown from Hip Hop,
African, Portuguese, Gumboots, Kwaito to traditional Zulu
dancing. The models looked gorgeous as they showed off
outfits of different kinds. We had traditional African and Indian
dress to the modern fashion of today. We also had talented
singers paying tribute to all the late Divas of South Africa. The
show was the true definition of diversity.

Our second show was a first for the club as we performed in the
hall for Spring Fair, instead of outside on the hockey field as
usual. The girls took up the challenge and, as always, never let
the audience down. It was a new experience and enjoyed by all.
Lebogang Kgothadi Grade 12

Yoga in the fact that we have progressed to moves such as the headstand.
Not only does yoga calm us, but it allows us to become more supple
The tree, curling leaf, locust and cobra are but a few of the asanas and strengthens muscles we never knew we had! At the end of each
(positions or postures) that the yoga girls have learnt to contort session we meditate: five minutes of pure silence in which we relax
themselves into over the past year. completely and clear our minds. The girls enter the class stressed
Being a reasonably small group, comprising of roughly sixteen seniors, from the busy life outside the gym walls, but we all leave with a sense
we were able to bond as a group. Yoga is a non-competitive activity as of serenity and peace. This would not be possible without the
the goal is to centre yourself and relax. We practise Hatha Yoga and the dedication and passion Ms Russell has, not only for Yoga, but for the
positions that we were taught have a purpose, whether it be to re-align girls. Her soothing voice and relaxed manner have helped many of us
the organs, to increase our energy or just calm our minds. Each session survive the high-paced lifestyle that we lead. Thank you to everyone
begins with Pranayama (breathing exercises), and this helps us to rid our involved.
lungs of stale air, leaving us rejuvenated and fresh. As Ms Russell Kerry Bodenstein Grade 12
serenely talks us through the exercise, the atmosphere becomes calm
and focused. The participation and enthusiasm of the group is evident 117PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

Creative Writing

How better working conditions can lead to symbiotic relationship.
Your forefathers could keep me in better shape without all your
a better life. technology. Why can’t you?
Why?
I am becoming older now. Remember, I am approximately 4,500 Assist me. I require air conditioners, natural remedies for my
million years old, which might sound like a good ripe old age to raging fever, vacuum cleaners to remove greenhouse gases,
an earthling, but I consider myself young. plants, water purifiers, archives containing gene pools, biofuel in
I have witnessed so much. I have seen the Seven Wonders of the an organic coffee cup to keep me going, ‘green’ earthling
World. I know the secrets of all the old civilizations. I have given assistants, super computers to track endangered species,
you so many natural wonders such as Hammam-Meskoutine in mathematical formulae to restore ecosystems and biomes, deep
Algeria, where hot mineral springs have deposited travertine, like freezers and a higher salary in the form of anti-global warming
a frozen waterfall, over rocky cones. I have given you Ayers rock inventions. That should suffice. For now.
and the Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, and so much more. Your grandchildren deserve their collective heritage to run
I have been bombarded with meteors, endured Ice Ages and barefoot on dewy grass and pristine beaches. To see spectacular
changed the effects of catastrophic events into breathtaking Karoo sunsets and to collect shells. They deserve to see the most
sights, such as the Grand Canyon. beautiful flower on earth – the King Protea.
Earthlings, I gave you a veritable garden of Eden. But my Yours sincerely
working conditions have become so arduous due to your Gaia (aka the Earth)
constant meddling, that I am exhausted and can no longer fulfil Gemma-May Grotepass (Grade 8)
my duties. I can no longer maintain the delicate equilibrium of
ecosystems; I can no longer endure to see yet another species ‘Remembories’
become extinct. The kwagga, and dodo were all killed by you,
even though they were harmless. You have endangered Don’t you want to go to the sand pit?
thousands of species. My beautiful glaciers and my White Cliffs Kick sand into each other’s hair
of Dover are sliding into the ocean. Search for Aladdin’s lamp
I am overheating. It broke my heart when Edith’s checker-spot Treasure every moment and not have a care
butterfly (which relies on snow as a signal to emerge from its
chrysalis) emerged in April instead of June due to lack of snow. What about ‘round up and down’
There were no plants to feed them and they all died, leaving a To write ‘a’ for apple
scattered carpet of orange wings. Shout about your first phonics test
My oceans are saturated with carbon dioxide, as is my soil, due to Spend Sunday school in the children’s chapel
your excessive use of fossil fuels. The kaleidoscope of colour of
my coral reefs is disappearing. The warmer water cuts off the Let’s play touches, stuck in the mud or kissing catches
colder, nutrient-rich waters resulting in the death of the tiniest It’s no harm to ply as roughly with the boys
marine plants and animals such as phytoplankton and of the Get home with mud-brown clothes
seabirds and salmon which feed on them. My punishment - to try and wash them and till then, no toys
Earthlings, your forefathers spent years trying to decipher my
mysteries. Politicians and activists died to preserve freedom on Call each other the most idiotic names
earth for their people. People wrote with nostalgia about their Scream the most idiotic things when there’s a fight
countries. Enoch Sontonga composed Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika in Like ‘Barney, Barney, Peanut Butter Sam!’
1897, the national anthem of South Africa, which lauds its blue Wow those flights sure brought us delight
heavens, its deep seas, its everlasting mountains and its
resounding echoing crags. The heavens are no longer blue. Make us angry by forcing us to nap
Most days they are smog-filled grey. Now make it worse by waking us up
Earthlings, with your constant felling of trees, your emission of When they are having the most exquisite dreams
carbon dioxide, methane and chlorofluorocarbons, your Nothing was too bad and nothing was too tough
stubborn refusal to listen or to notice that I am in the process of
dying, why do you rise in unison with the raising of your Well being happy and childish, I just can’t get enough
country’s flag? You have irreparably tampered with my intricate My mission - to try and cling on dearly to my past
systems. Improve my working conditions. Let us have a

118 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

Have you forgotten what needs to truly ever last?
You’re a child for 12 years and then an adult, what a task!
I think we don’t care anymore and we grow up just too fast.
Denise Onen (Grade 8)

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow Janine Engelbrecht Grade 9 Aye-Chan Htun Grade 9

We receive flowers when we are born. We receive flowers when and guided you all the way.
we die. Each significant mile-stone in our lives is celebrated with So even when times are tough
flowers. Buds open tentatively, bloom and finally droop their find the strength to struggle on
heads as their petals flutter to the ground. It is the same with because forest rains are seldom rough
people. Life has but an ephemeral beauty. and the sun is shining further on.
The philosopher Demiurge stated, regarding the origin of Jé-nae Freel (Grade 8)
brilliantly coloured autumnal foliage, that when the inevitable
process of disintegration commences, leaves remain attached to T he Destroyer
blaze a trail of glory, rather than succumb to death by falling to
the ground in a green, pristine state. The farmer flicked his burning cigarette carelessly out of the
We can summon treasured memories to the present. In albums truck’s window ... and that was the day that I was born. The
we see our parents and ourselves at work and at play. We treasure smouldering ash took flight in a sudden gust of wind and it fell
relics of our childhood. We relive history, scrutinizing Pulitzer down onto the bone-dry grass like a feather plummeting down a
Prize photographs in books like ‘Moments’ and relive historical column of air. In that second, my first orange ember of flame
days such as the lone man standing before the tanker on came to life. I started out puny and insignificant, but gaining
Tiananmen Square. power and strength, as I devoured anything that crossed my
Like the clocks of yore, we count only the serene hours. (Horas path. My flames stretched out; my long bony fingers of fire
non numerat nisi serenas). grabbing and consuming my prey.
Tomorrow, today will be yesterday and just another memory. I felt a sudden spurt of adrenaline pulsing through my veins,
Pluck the day, like a ripe fruit, and savour it. ‘Never lose a day’ as giving me the confidence to grow in stature. I spread
Samuel Pepys famously wrote in his diary. uncontrollably, incinerating the helpless before me. I showed
We should plan for the future. Only remarkable men plant trees no mercy for anything in my path, be it animate or inanimate. I
in the full knowledge that they would have passed away long consumed everything indiscriminately until all had been totally
before the trees reach their majestic maturity. Grownups tread eliminated.
on ants. Children study them. We should never lose our I made the trees plead, beseeching me on their knees, as I darted
youthful curiosity. past them, setting their dry cracked, russet brown leaves ablaze.
I am not who I was yesterday. Tomorrow I will have changed I made the grass cower and shrink in fear, and beg me not to
imperceptibly. We can contribute so much. And perhaps, if we destroy their blades. The petrified animals scurried away from
are lucky, we shall leave a legacy by writing a best-seller or by me, my fiery tongue licking at their hooves and paws.
erecting a Statue of Liberty. As I grew stronger, more dominant and controlling, I felt
If our only legacy is that we were loving and caring, that, in immensely powerful. I destroyed these feeble creatures as easily
itself, will be reward enough. as a human being would crush a tiny ant. The fun and thrill were
Gemma-May Grotepass (Grade 8) taken away. Where was the challenge in these effortless targets?
I am the one who brought destruction and mayhem into the
T he Cruel Air of Love lives of the innocent. I do not come to discriminate, I come to
kill and destroy. People and creatures have grown to know and
Love is a cool air fear me.
that comes from forest rain. At this point, I had trebled in size. My flames danced beneath
It enters through your lungs my feet, licking and tasting the dry yet edible blades. My long
and rushes through your veins. tongue slid over the parched earth, lapping at any signs of life,
But then it changes course determined to eradicate the living and non-living.
and decides to attack your heart. Then the sudden, sticky, wet breeze slapped my face, causing my
It can dominate your soul nostrils to become singed with pain and agony. Stopping me
and tear your life apart. dead in my tracks, I was surrounded, captured, imprisoned.
It tingles up your spine – How could this be, that the inferior human fire fighters had me
poisonous ivy with a twist.
You’ll feel as if you’re drowning 119PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris
in emotion that you can’t dismiss.
But just as you topple over
and have but a single breath of life,
you’ll find the ones that dragged you under
giving you the will to survive.
Although love can be cruel at times
and cause unnecessary pain,
You will see that it has opened your mind

Viewpoint: English

trapped? I would not die ... I would fight to the end. Then I Donne Grobler Grade 12
prepared myself for the next inevitable moments of my long-
lived life. They sprayed this ‘poison’ on my beautiful flames, He was our only support. Our only sense of hope. Our only
contaminating me, making me perishable and weak against their chance at surviving. You see, we had been living in Zimbabwe
seemingly useless weapons. for about fifteen years. It used to be safe. All its citizens used to
For the first time in my life I felt pathetic and useless. The be so proud to be part of a country with so much potential.
‘poison’ drained my power and strength, leaving me vulnerable. Now I am completely embarrassed even to mention that I am a
My long fingers crumbled, as if they were the pages of an Zimbabwean.
ancient book. They sprayed their ‘poison’ again on my sizzling Robert Mugabe took over my country a couple of years ago. At
wounds, which sent my skin bellowing in anguish. The water first he was a good, exemplary president. He was a positive
sank its teeth into me, killing me slowly. My flames danced change for Zimbabwe, but then after a good run at presidency he
around me, trying to ease the pain that these monsters inflicted fell off the bus. Things started going really wrong. There was a
on me. lot of post-election violence, food shortages and an inflation
Their hosepipe ‘weapons’ were too powerful for me. I struggled rate of more than a thousand percent!
to keep going as my body slowly disintegrated. I watched My husband, along with many other Zimbabwean men decided
myself dying, ash falling to the earth like rain. I filled the sky, to go to South Africa. There he would try to make a living so he
spewing my grey ash between the clouds. The sky was a grey could support himself and our family. When he got to South
blanket of death and sorrow. I slowly watched the rest of my Africa he managed to get a job as a street sweeper and he earned
body as it was being blown away by the wind. That was when my about R15 a day. This was below South Africa’s minimum salary
last spark of orange flame died out. These humans who gave but he had no other choice. He built himself a shack and
me life inevitably became the ones who took it from me. managed to live safely for about six weeks.
Melanie Kirsten (Grade 9) Then, last night, after my husband came home from a long day at
work, he went to have a bath. Suddenly, he heard a huge noise
I have the rights and people started screaming from all directions. He jumped
out of the bath and saw that someone had set his shack alight.
I knew they weren’t South African. I knew this by their accent. I The heat started to get more and more unbearable and he
knew this by the colour of their skin. They were not South grabbed everything he could on his way out.
African because they did not know the meaning of Ubuntu. I After he watched his shack burn down, he saw the group of
do not regret the decision I made because I know that I was South Africans who had set it alight ... He ran over and shouted
protecting my country and myself. at them, wanting to know how they could be so cruel. The men
I heard about these stupid foreigners about three weeks ago at a reacted with violence, shooting anyone who reprimanded them.
community meeting. The elder said that they were stealing our One of them was my husband ...
jobs, our food, our money and our lives. I was so angry. I was So, I am still homeless, still unemployed. I don’t know what the
filled with rage. I am a South African, I have rights. The elder future holds. All I know is that I have to face it alone.
said that something had to be done about this problem. I agreed Megan Page (Grade 9)
with him. We all did.
One morning I was sitting outside my shack eating pap and sour T he Match
milk. I was sitting all alone. All alone because I did not have a
family. My wife left me and took my children because I did not An empty shop. An empty aisle. An empty shelf. Match boxes,
have any money. Stupid foreigners, they took it! He was sitting R5,50. Empty. The sound of Mamelodi travelling down their
there - the foreigner – all happy and with his family. That was streets hits you like a cement wall as the uproar heads for the
the day I made my decision. They took away my life, my
happiness and my family. So I would take away theirs! It was so
easy actually. All I needed was a bottle, some petrol and a rag ...
Yesterday, as you know, the deed was done. I got up before the
South African sun. Lucky for me the foreigner and his whole
family were still asleep. I felt great power, for I knew that on that
day I’d become a hero.
I stood in the front of the door, lit the rag, grinned and hurled it
through the window. “Mommy, the house is on fire!” I heard.
Screams and cries for help followed shortly, but I didn’t care.
Finally, my satisfaction. My sweet revenge!
I was protecting my country and myself from those stupid
foreigners. I am South African! I have rights!
Catherine Yorke-Hart (Grade 9)

A single mom

I am homeless. I am unemployed. I have three beautiful
toddlers to care for. I am Didintle Morena. A single mom ... as
from yesterday. I am a forty-two year old Zimbabwean woman
and my husband was shot in a xenophobic riot last night.

120 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

lonely squatter house. A match is silently struck. buttons clicked, my heart started to race. All I could see were
A fire bloomed from the crumbling house like a rose, growing those eyes, his eyes. Then a friendly voice answered “Sunnydale
from a soft bud into a radiant rose of autumn colours. The flames Orphanage”.
slowly danced their tango with magical magnificent movements. Erin Humphries (Grade 9)
The dancers laughed in delight as they sang their joyous songs.
The slicing tongues licked the ashen metal and whispered taunting Life through a child’s eyes
words as another desperate voice joined this chorus of voices
while wailing red and blue lights approached. I woke up angrily every morning, to the sound of threatening
As I climbed out of my police car I felt a trill slither down my spine violence which was booming in my backyard, including
as I realised the terrible deed at hand. The people had tried to rid everywhere in my tiny little neighbourhood. The most terrifying
the area of impurities from Mugabe-land. The blood of these sound I woke up to every morning was the sound of young
Zimbabweans lay stained on this community’s hands. As if the children, children my age crying and screaming – the sound of
ghosts wanted to acknowledge this, a pleading whine sounded fear. This cry was not just any cry, but the familiar cry of anger,
from the shack. pain and terrifying fear. That tragic morning, when I left my
Thundering footsteps throbbed across the earth as I flew through neighbourhood, the look on my face was not of fear and
pouring clouds of smoke. With my face covered, I shrugged the hopelessness, but rather of hope and ambition.
door open which had been locked from the outside, and walked As I walked slowly with the friendly female police officer, the view
into an oven. By a window a small creature was desperately from the top was not at all glamorous. My town, which was once
clawing at the wooden frame while choking like a dying man. The beautiful was now destroyed. All I saw were the filthy streets of a
six year old girl’s limbs shook under her thin clothes as tears and run-down town. Homes and houses were destroyed beyond
sweat leaked down her face. I reached for her and gently rushed recognition; my people were lying down as though they were dead.
her outside as a beam from the roof crashed down to where I had Fortunately, they were only wounded emotionally, their strength
stood only moments before. and happiness taken away as though someone had drained it with a
The girls sat crouched by a weeping tree with bloody fingers massive syringe.
holding her quivering knees. Her ash-stricken face had fine dirt- Whenever I walked with the female police officer, people stared.
roads leading from her eyes down her chin. She slowly stretched It wasn’t just curiosity but an odd stare of anger, envy and
out her hand and picked up a used match. powerful hatred. Behind us were strong policemen in possession
“Daddy said that this new home will be better,” said the girl with a of massive machine guns that possessed a lot of evil power. The
lone tear travelling down her face. She stared at the matchstick, machine guns were evil because they caused frustration and
then broke it in half. “Will I ever find a home?” division amongst my people.
Aviva Hoekstra (Grade 9) As I left my depressed town, I walked away from everything that
troubled me. I kept my little head up because although the
T hose eyes situation seemed unsolvable, I knew there was hope. My people
were drowning in pools of blood and it was up to me to save them.
When Bobby came home after crèche (Lulu dropped him off), it Zinhle Novazi (Grade 9)
was starting to get cold. So I took him inside and dressed him in
all his warm clothes. I pulled the last jersey (which was a little T he Journey
tight) over his head.
I noticed how small and scruffy his clothes were getting. “I’ll have I wrote a line ...
to get some new clothes soon, I told him”. He answered with a But erased it because the words never arrived
smile, “I’m a big boy now!” And I tried once again to say
“Yes.” I said, “You’re my big boy .” I cradled him, wishing he The words from inside that crowded my brain
would always be mine. And lived deep in my soul
Later that day I made my way to the shops leaving Bobby with our That fed on my emotions
neighbour, Mpho. And embodied me.
The shopping centre wasn’t as fancy as it used to be. Most of the The words came slowly, through the depths of my mind
shops had closed down, and it was a dangerous place to be after And fell onto paper with barely a sound
dark. Nevertheless, I made my way down to the little grocery Line after line, they fell into place
store. What I saw next came as a shock ... most of the shelves in But society, as always, demanded they change.
the store were empty, and there were two old “Gogos” fighting for So change they did, but not for long
the last can of jam! A ragged-looking man had to leave his basket When additions and mysteries came to cloud their depths
of groceries at the last working till, because he didn’t have enough I wept for the innocence that my words had once been
money. And wished that the song in my soul could change.
There wasn’t a lot left, but I made do with a carton of sour milk But it didn’t, and irate, my words twisted into something they call
and some crackers. sense
When Bobby sat down at our wonky kitchen table and saw what Until they calmed, and accepted this state
was for dinner, his face fell. He looked at me with big, young, For a while, sense prevailed
innocent eyes. My entire body was crushed by the But then emotions clouded the impeccable logic
disappointment that filled his gaze. Looking down into his eyes, I The clear meaning, that wasn’t what was meant at all
hoped he would never see the same look in the eyes of his own And society’s critic, a steadfast opponent, said it must change.
child some day. I then knew what I had to do. So again and again my word re-formed
The next day I got to work early, and used the phone. As the dial And morphed into something that ‘acceptable’ was called

121PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

That was further from the truth than anything before Surprising is my confidence
And my soul mourned the loss of meaning Usually I’m mute.
And the loss of innocence that had gone before.
And thus, my words fell away as leaves in autumn He asks me what I’m into
Or petals on a dying rose. “I like guys,” was my reply.
And the story in my soul became something new We giggle at my joke a little
But, shortened thus, simplicity came Then he says, “So do I ...”
Though meaning was lost and innocence had failed Megan Marshall (Grade 9)
I thought that maybe this was journey’s end
But alas, new roads were travelled and new lines arrived Pretty paper girl
And the story is yet to end.
So, meanwhile is yet to end. Oh pretty paper girl
So, meanwhile my story became confused, yet lustrous In the magazine
And I decided then to let my words be I wish I were like you —
Until the story changed again: Pretty and lean
This time to anthems of protest for what I had lost along the
way You’re so perfect
That I could never find again. You’ve got it all
My words then morphed into something new You can shop all day long
Where meaning does not always have to be found In the fabulous mall
And so, a poem, my story will stay
Closer to truth, and farther from meaning But what does your life truly mean?
Till one day it is lost amongst people’s pain. Do you have love like me?
Katy Godfrey (Grade 9) When I came home I ate hearty meals
And you, well – celery twirls
Memory
You have that Mona Lisa smile
The picture in your mind opens, unbidden But you really and truly are vile
With a password that only you know
To lead you into the past On the agenda of the starving girl ...
Into a moment of clarity The one who can do nothing but hurl
Where present and future are unimportant On the morals of young boys ...
And all that matters is meaning Your bodies aren’t toys
Or is it not meaning, but remembrance
Of something you didn’t realise at the time We all want to be like you
But seems important now But do we really?
Before it fades away That’s my question for you
Until it returns My pretty paper girl
Like a flower opening Catherine Yorke-Hart (Grade 9)
Or a voice in the distance
To tug your heart into the past again. T he Windowless Room
Katy Godfrey (Grade 9)
A fierce wind swept through the dark alley-way, lifting up the
First Impressions smells of sewage and smoke and replacing it with an icy cold
atmosphere that froze one’s fingertips. I glanced behind me and
His eyes so thoughtful gasped in fright, as I stumbled over the uneven ground beneath
His spirit wild and free my hurrying feet. I carried on running, my breath coming in
His smile warm, inviting great, heaving gusts of exhaustion and I began to feel panicky. I
He’s looking right at me! was aware of the tears running down my face and my frustration
built as they clouded my vision. I turned a corner and then I saw
I make my way over the tall wall blocking the alley. The blood raced through my veins
Next to him there’s a seat. and I trembled all over. As my terror came to a single, cold
Eager to talk now realisation, I heard the quick footfalls behind me. I felt hands
And finally to meet. seize my neck and the heavy blow that struck my heard. And
then I felt no more.
He smiles as I sit I woke to the rumbling and jolting of a moving vehicle. My head
And tells me his name. felt as though it had been cleaved in two and my wrists and ankles
It’s a good thing I’m seated were pulled tight behind my back, numb from the ropes that
My legs have gone lame bound them. My nose was pressed against black leather seats
that smelled of smoke and a stale material stuffed in my mouth
We talk for a while causing bile to rise to my throat. Claustrophobia, even greater
Gosh, is he cute! than my fear, rose in my mind as I struggled to breathe and move

122 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris Artwork: Chevonne Brasler Grade 10

Viewpoint: English

and I began panicking, thrashing about where I lay. Suddenly, cue and I hurried up the stairs and onto the stage.

the car stopped moving and all my muscles clenched in I knew it would not be long before someone noticed it. My

anticipation and terror. heart began to race and I stumbled over my lines. I could feel

I heard a door open and slam and then a second door was sweat slipping down my face and dripping off my chin.

opened and I felt hands grab my arms and haul me from the Paranoia filled me and I could hear the constant buzz of a police

vehicle. My body slammed against the ground, hands gripping siren in my ears. My eyes darted from side to side as I waited in

me and dragging me along the paving. Hair stuck between my terror for the moment to come. I did not have to wait long. A

arm and his hand was ripped from my skull and flesh was torn scream filled the hall and people began shouting and pointing at

open from the jagged concrete. The material stuffed in my something above the actors. As people began racing for the

mouth muffled my cry of pain, but he seemed to hear it for a exits, I slowly and unwillingly lifted my eyes up and my felt my

heavy boot slammed into my neck. My vision went black as pain heart twist in fear.

raced through my body. A face, its body slowly revolving on the end of a metal cord,

I was heaved into a dark, windowless room looked down at me with cold, empty eyes. I

where a single chair was positioned in the felt myself drawn back to the moment when I

middle, shining faintly in the fluorescent had been waiting in the wings, as my mind

lights. He threw me into the chair, the metal replayed the memories. I watched as my

pushing hard into my skin, and he began hand lashed out with the knife, smirking as

retying the ropes around my ankles and my victim fell and feeling the satisfaction of

wrists. Another man entered the room, my revenge. I stood up suddenly, shaking my

carrying a small video camera and slamming head furiously to stop the sound of the police

the door behind him. My heart hammering, sirens. They were getting louder. I jumped as

my chest heaving and my eyes widening; I the doors behind me slammed open and a

began struggling against my bindings. A fist shout echoed across the stage to me. I slowly

slammed into my face and my head was lifted my hands above my heard.

yanked back by a powerful hand gripping The fluorescent lights burned my eyes as I

my hair. I stopped moving, but tears pulled sullenly at the cuffs around my hands,

coursed down my face. my throat raw from talking. The detective

I felt a warm breath against my skin, the soft watched me warily from across the table,

air tickling the small hairs along my ear. I noting the manic glint in my eyes and my

could see him in my peripheral vision and I animated face as I related what had

strained my eyes, trying to push them happened. He must understand, must agree

further to see what he was doing. He began that the horrid man had deserved to die for

whispering, his voice sounding too sweet, his taunting and bullying. As I stared at him, a

and his words too meaningless. His rough grin spread across my face and laughter

hand brushed against my skin, sending Azille Schulze Grade 10 bubbled up inside me, filling the room with
shivers down my spine and he stood up, my hysterical cackles. As tears of emotion

pressing something cold and hard onto my temple and I realised, slowly slipped down my face, I allowed myself to be led back to

with horror, that he meant to shoot me. my cell.

Uncontrollable and hysterical sobs wrenched from my chest, Samantha Rogers (Grade 10)

muffled slightly by the material and a hand slapped across my

cheek. The material was removed, a second slap, curt

Rainbow Maninstructions and then a phone was given. My heart pounding,

tears streaming down my face, I began dialling the number I He sat there, beneath the Jacaranda trees; the Rainbow Man. Sat

knew so well and listened to the ringing that reached my ears, there, rubbing his legs with his gnarled hands. His crooked back

followed by the soft click as the other end was answered. was turned to the library, as if shunning the source of society’s

Trembling and sobbing, I did the only thing I could: I screamed, knowledge. It’s not known where he came from, but day after

defying them. A harsh, deafening shot echoed through the day he sat there, carefully watching the people pass – careful not

room, drowning out my screams and for a second, pain beyond to be noticed. His eyes were always hidden from the world by

imagining erupted in my head. And then I felt no more. his weathered cap. His skin was burned black by the sun. He

Samantha Rogers (Grade 10) ignored the Sympathetic that strategically walked around him,

religiously flinging coins to his side. The pastors and elders,

Waiting in the Wings whispering their prayers from a distance; he ignored them too.
He sat there, whispering and answering only to himself. He

I hurried down the stairs and into the changing rooms. I could rocked like a child, back and forth, back and forth.

hear the hum of voices from the auditorium and my heart beat The dying, melancholic grass around him, all too aware of the

furiously against my chest, though not entirely from nerves. I changing season, bent towards the Rainbow Man and cried tiny

stared down at my hands, watching the water from the taps dew-drops that glistened in the sunlight, as reward for the

washing away the final traces of blood from them. I took a deep warmth that he shared. But the sympathetic were ignorant and

breath to still the shaking of my hands and body. Looking up did not share the joy that he had for the grass and his happiness

into the cracked mirror hanging before me, I noted with slight in their gifts. They muttered condolences and shuffled onwards

panic that my carefully applied makeup had smudged beneath on their path of monotony, forgetting him as soon as he was out

my eyes. It would have to do. The bell chimed, announcing my of sight. But the Rainbow Man did not care. He smiled to

123PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

himself, for he had a secret. He knew what others did not; he And if you cannot find me after you have
knew how to be happy and thus he had a purpose.
At night he wandered the streets and stretched his arms to the looked in all of these places, then look to
few stars that could be seen through the city lights. He used to
sing songs with words that no one but he understood. I the rooftops
remember, once he found a crying child that had scratched her
knee on the sidewalk. The Rainbow Man began to cry as well. Tonight, we shall sleep on the rooftops
He reached out and caught the child’s tears, collecting them like
precious gems. Then he walked to a nearby tree and put the teas Our days of living
in a leaf. The child, who had stopped crying, watched in By the simple truths of thorn trees
fascination as the Rainbow Man folded the leaf and sealed it Are over
with his own tears. Cautiously, he again approached the girl and And the dogs are never coming home
presented her with this gift. The leaf, a small package, So, tonight, we shall sleep on the rooftops
contained the little girl’s sadness, sealed with the sorrow of an
old man whose sadness was greater than her own. This she held We shall summon the Indigo Children
in her palm. Smiling at the Rainbow Man, she took out a pencil Summon them to the rooftops
and drew a smile on the leaf. With the pain forgotten, she took For the rooftops, they say, are free of uncertainty
his hand and made him a cup of imaginary tea.
The Rainbow Man returned to the Jacaranda trees and there he When the houses smell of twilight
sat with his back to the library and his weathered cap over his When the moon’s gravitational force is turned against it
eyes. He rubbed his aching legs with his crooked arms and sang When the grass sprouts green and cool
songs that no one remembered. He was always there. He urged We shall journey to the rooftops
the trees to grow and sang children to sleep. He was always
there ... he was always there ... and then he was gone ... Tonight,
Anelia de Waal (Grade 10) The skies will be a projection of our dreams:
A seething mass of hats and hands
T he Hardest Word Of entangled words and paisley patterns
Of silver moths
She sat across from me, her head in her trembling hands. Her Of burned buildings
body was slumped helplessly there, as if it were too shattered to Of rusted railings
be of any use. Her make-up was smudged – her eye mascara Of peppermint
carried by the river of tears flowing down her distraught face.
In her swollen red eyes I could see emotions switching as a Of a hysterical war against Instinct
traffic light switches from red to yellow to green: anger to guilt
to remorse. I felt as if I had been stabbed through the pit of my Dawn will never arrive,
stomach when I saw the shame and the grief in her eyes, For we shall never descend from the rooftops
because as that ultimate stage of regret came, it was as if the The staircases have rusted away,
delicate thread from which she was hanging snapped. Her eyes Leaving only the landings in between.
became dazed, and her body fell back limply as her face The ropes are severed
crumpled in pain. The clinging plants have crumbled
I had just witnessed the horrendous fight that she had had with And our ink-stained hands are raw and bleeding
her parents. It was something that I will never forget. I
remember the shrieks of frustration and the wounded cries as Therefore, let us never leave the rooftops
they spat out nasty words of rage, that they didn’t actually mean, Let us make them ours
with fire. It all resulted in an excruciating pain that would scar And furnish them with candle light
them all eternally. Let us disregard dimension
As I sat mulling over this I noticed that the girl had stopped And collect the small, sharp city lights in our hands
crying and sat upright with a strange look in her eyes. She Let us smell the leaves of the Maple Tree
abruptly stood up and, paradoxically, strode off as if on a great Let is wrap our love in paper aeroplanes
mission. And send them down, from the rooftops
From that minute I knew what she was going to do, and I Let us grow pots of tinfoil roses
admired her for it, because it is arguably one of the most Let us whisper with the stars
challenging and testing things that a human being can do. She And revel in the infinity of eternal evening.
walked determinedly towards where he parents were: her long Let us never leave the rooftops.
elegant back and shaped shoulders confidently arched in a Trudie Spangenberg (Grade 10)
perfect posture that I thought only dancers could obtain.
As she reached her parents, I turned my head away from her One of Us Must Know
direction, wanting only to hear the two magnificent words that
can really prove a person’s true character. I held my breath for On every page
the whole suspenseful three minutes that she took to say them. Of every book
“I’m sorry.” In every library
Alison Fourie (Grade 10) We had so tearfully searched

124 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

Were, the words, “This is your last tip.” “Small messages in bathroom stalls
(I feel I don’t have time)
And even those flaccid pages, Ironed, buttoned, collared shirts
Impulsively ripped to shreds (My hands are slipping)
And cast into the Lethe, Heated tar against our palms
Like limp, white rose petals, (I’ll have to leave you soon)
Were not enough to satisfy us Cold, cold chains and homesick blues
(I have forgotten what rainwater tastes like)
And so we took flight Octopus, Oedipus, mattresses, ropes
(This will soon have been my childhood)”
(If we could, we would have stayed home.
But we were no longer ourselves The paint on the dollhouse is peeling
And our minds were not our minds)
Five minutes
We ran past legions of blind men juggling fire Five minutes, please, to write it all down
And spectres made of cellophane I am afraid of forgetting
Trudie Spangenberg (Grade 10)
We fought the embodiment of our hysteria
And stumbled over the warm copper pipes Once upon a time
That protruded from the earth,
Leaking great volumes of sky Once upon a time we were good friends
I was the sky, you were the sun
We ran across the infinite landscapes of the suburbs When the sun is gone, the sky is grey.
And defiantly stood in Harm’s way,
Only to get reprimanded for loitering We built and moulded a vase of friendship
We painted it green for you and purple for me
We found misplaced thimbles beneath the plum tree And in it we placed flowers
(Left there, inadvertently, by that youth, Peter Pan) But when we weren’t looking our flowers turned into weeds.
But lost them through the holes in our pockets
Weeds of gossip, doubt and things left unsaid -
And now that we have burnt, our vase eventually became full and it cracked.
Not only our boats, but our fingers as well,
Now that our feet are bleeding It’s now twilight.
From running on the tar Purple has separated from green
(And even the rooftops help me mend it or it will forever be night.
Have turned into molasses!), Siya Lukwe (Grade 10)

Where shall we turn to Loss
For even the smallest scrap of solace?
Trudie Spangenberg (Grade 10) “R-ring.” The phone is barely able to repeat its weary melody
before I strangle its tune and lift it to my ear.
A Knowledge of the Future as written “Hello.”
in the Past, being read in the Present “Andrew?”
“Mum. What’s going on?”
The paint n the dollhouse is peeling A sigh comes from the other end of the line. Its anguish
washes over me. I close my eyes.
“Tall tales in the subway “Your father was very brave. He tried so hard for you.”
New members are found All I can say is
Wicker basket, windowsill “I know.”
All you see, all you see “I love you.”
“Empty!” (To the dust and the rain)” “I know.”
“He loved you so, so much as well.”
The paint on the dollhouse is peeling My silence is my only answer.
“I’ll speak to Jeanie now.”
“Arrows on the staircases I open my eyes and turn them to my little sister.
Trilby hats on broken heads She takes the phone mechanically, wordlessly.
Scratches on the banister I avert my eyes. This is a sick thing to watch. But I hear it. The
Crumbling moss, twisting cracks tragic violin wail of Jeanie’s eyes.
Shadow puppets against the grass blades” “NO. Da- Da- Da- Daddy!”
And the hysterical sobbing begins.
The paint on the dollhouse is peeling She drops the phone.
I pick it up.
Artwork: Chansa Chansa Grade 10
125PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

Opening my eyes, I see Jeanie is gone. She must have retreated to
the greater comfort of her mother during the night. I pull myself
up and stumble down the passage in the early morning light. I
slump in the doorway of my parents’ room, and stare at the
remainder of family, and wonder how we will ever gauge the
emptiness on my father’s side of the bed.
Carole Godfrey (Grade 11)

Janine Engelbrecht Grade 9 I’m in control

“Goodbye mom. You’ll be home tomorrow?” I have always hated going to visit my grandmother. The frilly
“Yes. Please put Jeanie to bed.” dresses, posh talk and faint scent of old people always bores me.
My mother is crying. The only reason I submit to going is the exceptional food – and
“Okay. I’ll see you. Be all right?” I ask her to promise me. of course to go without complaint proves that I’m in control. I
“I love you.” clearly remember the worst visit.
My side of this pattern kicks in. I was wearing a particularly frightful yellow dress that made me
“I love you too. Bye.” look pasty and as if I had feathers. I had been dieting for several
I put the phone down and lower my eyes to the pitiful form at my weeks for that visit as it was a special occasion – my
feet. The crumpled heap, the mess that I must muster the grandmother’s eightieth birthday – there promised to be great
energy and sense to clean up. food and I appeared to be the only guest with my original teeth.
I take Jeanie into my arms as she starts to shake. First quivering I was pretending to listen to the rasping voices crack about where
like a small rabbit, then jolting, as if she was standing in the the newest pain was when I saw it: the cake. Thank goodness I
centre of an earthquake. It sickens me. She looks like a rabbit in was in control.
the process of one of those scientific experiments you imagine It was perfectly round and very big. The vanilla cake was covered
when you read about animal testing. Teeth cutting into her lip, in soft white icing that slightly glistened in the light. The pink
eyes rimmed with pink from crying and huge. Jerking in a frosting on top appeared to be covered in glitter and promised to
sickening sort of way. I’m not sure how to hold her. My first taste amazing. No matter how sugary it looked, I was sure it was
instinct is to constrict my arms around her – to try to suppress enough to tempt a diabetic. Well, one with less control than me.
those jolts that were rocking us both to the core, to try to cut As I perched on the edge of my seat, muttering a few responses
short that horrible music of grief. She tries furiously to wriggle to be involved in the conversation, my beady eyes drifted towards
away, to wrench herself free, but she is pathetically weak. When the cake. I allowed the conversation to float over my head as I
she can’t escape, she starts to pummel her small fists against my imaged how soft and moist the cake would be; how sweet and
chest. I let her, and I loosen my grip. I rock her gently, side to smooth the icing ... No! I thought. I must not allow this cake to
side. taunt me – I am in control.
At some point, Jeanie simply gives up and sags against me. She At last my gran called everyone in to gather around the cake. It
curls up into a foetal knot. Knotted arms, fists, feet. She’s took a fair amount of time for all the guests to limp, wheel and
retreats and binds herself up inside. Gradually, she stops hobble over to the table but it was done. As we sang Happy
whimpering and then I hear rhythmic breathing, almost in time Birthday my mouth was wet with anticipation when she cut the
with our rocking. I stop rocking, reach for the light switch on first slice and I became almost giddy with excitement. You could
the ground, and click it off. Now, in the darkness and the see the cake fold in each time the knife touched it – proving how
solitude, I make myself very still and wait for the grief to come. soft it was.
But before it does I am asleep myself. As I neared the front at the line my hands trembled. Giving up all
I battle to shove off the heavy arms of sleep in the morning. sugar for two weeks was about to pay off in this delectable cake.
When I got to my gran, I asked her for a slightly smaller piece
126 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris than the chunk she was offering me - after all, I was still in
control. Gran just laughed and shoved the plate into my hands. I
eagerly grabbed the fork, scooped up a piece, and, just as the first
heavenly bite was about to enter the swimming pool that was my
mouth – I paused. Gran was still talking.
“You needn’t worry about spoiling your petite figure with too
much of my cake, ducky. It’s sugar free.”
Roxanne Mostert (Grade 11)

Almost Human

Dear Mom
It’s so difficult to tell you all this, because the last thing I want to
do is hurt you. I just want to say sorry and help you understand
what it feels like to be rejected.
I knew about you long before you knew about me. All the pain
and sickness I caused you was just me trying to get your attention.
I don’t know why I tried so hard though; in the end, it caused you

Viewpoint: English

more pain. The day you found out about me you cried an awful I built around my heart
lot and I suddenly realised that the warm, comforting feeling you and navigate the labyrinth.
gave me at first was slowly slipping away.
I never really felt any connection to my dad, but when he decided I must wring my heart dry of all
to leave you and me stranded, I couldn’t help but get depressed. the blood it holds
I witnessed the way your heart broke into tiny pieces and I tried and use that as ink
to put the pieces back into place for you ... but you wouldn’t let to scribble the
me. You hated me even more than before. The first few times musings
you drank alcohol I hated it. It burnt me and left me feeling of my soul
uneasy. After a while, however, I came to like it and became Saneze Tshayana (Grade 11)
addicted just as quickly as you had. The perfect circles of
flavoured smoke that started to surround me soon became quite Untitled
a comfort too, and, without you even knowing, you turned me
into an alcoholic and a smoker. Trying to understand myself, I half-heartedly search for
You started giving me less and less food but more and more God
alcohol. Despite this I was growing pretty quickly. My features Hoping
had become clearer, my hair had started to grow and my He
emotions were starting to balance themselves out. Will do the hard work of deconstructing my nature
There were times when you cramped my space and I had to kick And
you to get you to move. There were other times when someone Making me righteous.
bigger than me bullied me. Pushing me around, pressing hard
on me and sometimes shining a laser against my protective Instead, I hear a voice in my head
bubble. I really didn’t like this big bully. Telling me that although He will help,
The one morning I knew something was wrong. I felt how tense We have to meet halfway:
you were, your hand not letting go of my protective bubble The job of stripping myself is left to me
once. That morning the bully hurt me again. Pushing me While He’ll make me righteous when I’m done.
harder than ever before. The day went past slowly; you didn’t
feed me once, and I didn’t get a drink either. The bully had put So I drink poison-turps, thinners –
you to sleep. Finally I saw some liquid coming down but the Which results in projectile vomiting,
next event happened so quickly. All I remember is it burnt like Not a sense of imminent righteousness.
crazy and then I went numb.
I have learnt now that I am in heaven. I miss you every single day I meet a boy who whispers in my ear:
that goes past. I’m sorry Mommy, I didn’t mean to cause you “It’s alright. You need to realise that God loves you:
pain. I just wanted to love you. I hope, when you finally come Has known you since before you were born.
up to heaven that we can be reunited and I can finally be in your So this abusing of yourself to make finding
arms. I love you mommy. Spirituality more believable is not necessary.
Love from Frankly, it smells of a cheap publicity stunt.”
Almost Human
Robyn Barnes (Grade 11) He whispers into my soul and I grow to
Love him because he tells
Untitled The truth.

In my quest for the perfect verse, He grows to love me because
I wade through rivers of clichés Other than pretending I’m an emotional wreck,
that try to drown me. I am perfect for Him.
Saneze Tshayana (Grade 11)
I am pulled at by creepers of
self-doubt “Man Being Absent, Africa is good ...”
that seek to entangle me.
– Plomer
I am pricked at by brambles
that aim to draw out my poet-blood. Africa is good,
Forget the suffering, the negative connotations, the effects of
Thorns invade my delicate skin, slavery and his brother – colonialism, the hunger, the poverty,
trying to numb my senses the disease, the death ...
with pain. Africa is good.
I met her once, Africa, and all aspects of her being were mildly
I struggle through muddy water puzzling. She went against any conventional stereotype one
dirtied by the filth of other people’s minds. would have of Africa and as we met, in the crevices of my
subconscious, I learnt that Africa was good.
And then, the greatest challenge of all: Now when one envisages Africa personified, an image of a well-
I must break down the stone walls endowed rounded woman is conjured. This popular Africa-

Artwork: Sasha-Lee Gush Grade 9 127PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

brand woman’s skin is much like molasses in hue and texture Remember that as we begin our ascent to power, we ought to do
with little clothing adorning her ample frame. so with class, grace and dignity. Holding our heads high, we shall
In this image of Africa, she wears a forlorn expression of personify the magnificence ingrained in our beings. After all, we
suffering and melancholy on her visage. Her rounded eyes, the are phenomenal women. And for the rest of time, herstory will
very depths of her starved soul look to the West for rescue, for render Woman invincible.
air, for help, for anything... Thato Mabudusha (Grade 12)
The piece-de-resistance of this pseudo caricature of Africa is
the load she carries on her head, literally and figuratively: the T he shattered remains of a broken record
famed pail of water, the hunger, the load of vegetables, the
disease, and the death, have all become the familiar objects atop Caster Semenya
Africa’s crown. A Casper until Berlin
Being a mere mortal, I was expecting nothing more than the She runs because it’s her passion.
aforementioned image of Africa. Yet, as irony would have it, Will she now run away from the humiliation?
she was nothing like any sorrowful cliché of Africa I have ever
known. Whispers behind ears,
Afrika is good. Strange looks and odd sneers.
Her long, slender frame, wrapped in caramel skin, is healthy and Speculations, accusation and violations
radiant. Her smile spoke nothing of the millennia of suffering by the press
that history tells us she has endured. Oh IAAF, have you made a mess?
Afrika is good.
She holds her head up in a manner far more divine than mortal. A powerful soul sentenced in a double body,
Radiating hope and indomitable faith, she carries herself with Yet the DNA tests have undressed her,
dignity, integrity and strength, seeming contradictions to the Just like that!
Africa the world knows. A woman with spare man’s parts?
Afrika is beautiful. Or a man with spare woman’s parts?
Thato Mabudusha (Grade 12)
They call her a hermaphrodite.
Herstory Lessons I call her a hero.
Carmyn Gast (Grade 12)
Ah yes, since the beginning of time, history has tended to
render Woman invisible; oh-so-tactfully barricading her in the Breaking-up
stifling closet of stigmatisation (with shoes, bags, et al.)
As many-a-modern woman is lodged in the centre of Modern Up until this point, my ever-hopeful nature has misled me to
Woman (also known as Miss Independent) versus Traditional believe that the beauty of relationships is their vulnerability. I’ve
Woman (also know as mommy), it is imperative that we, as believed, with all my little heart that the triumph of beating the
ladies of this world, stand firm (in staggering Jimmy Choos, of odds is love’s greatest victory.
course) in our conviction as we clench manicured fists and say, Sadly, I am but a child and thus was wrong. Love’s greatest victory
“Nay! Nay to XY chromosome power!” is love itself. There will never be a balance in love, or one that we
Now that we have played nicely for centuries – toting baby know of. In every relationship there will always be a more loving
Johnny in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant with Jane – it is partner: a mother bear has an incomprehensible love for her cub.
time we take our rightful place in Society. Yes, the women will “For God so loved the world”. Both examples of a love so great;
govern ... with toddlers in tow. we fail to understand it. And so it was with us.
Firstly, it is of paramount importance that we alter common I’m no god, but I like to think I have the capacity to love beyond
phrases and sayings so as to cement the word, “woman” into my years. The type of unconditional love that connects me to
our daily vocabulary. History will be altered to ‘herstory’ while everything around me; be it the trees and even the tiniest of
Armstrong’s first words as he grazed the lunar surface become, creatures is the type of love I so freely give the world. But it fails in
“One miniscule, microscopic, minute, step for man - one comparison to the love I hold dearest to me; the love I kept and
enormous, stiletto heel leap for womankind.” still keep tucked away for you. I once stood under a light bulb as it
We shall hold marches and conduct rallies in the streets and burst. I didn’t understand why it happened, but I do now. Much
boulevards proclaiming, “You strike a woman, you strike a like you, the light bulb couldn’t handle the amount of energy
platinum-coated titanium rod with electric shock capabilities being fed to it. It didn’t even ask or try but it glowed so brightly.
and a state-of-the-art convenience centre to boot.” Light in the darkness. Praise be to the bulb, a place for poor
A chairperson automatically becomes a chairwoman (regardless energy to rest. If only. Energy, much like me, worked ever so
of his or her gender) as a mannequin becomes a womanequin. tirelessly to ensure that the bulb glowed beyond expectations.
Manifest will be amended to womanifest while political How did the light bulb repay the energy? By completely
mandates will transform to political womandates (which would, dispelling the energy from within itself, ruining itself completely,
obviously, be more effective). We shall no longer manoeuvre for those to come. Everyone knows energy cannot be destroyed,
our way through life but womanoeuvre and on hot summer just transferred. And what became of the light bulb? Nothing
days, we shall feast on womangoes, never mangoes (the horror)! but a few shards of glass destined to be thrown away.
Yes ladies, as politicians would say, we are perambulating on the You see, by breaking up with me, you have ruined yourself for the
outskirts of a counter-revolution, pregnant with possibility (do next relationship. Your regret will be carried to bed with you, your
excuse the pun)! “Viva XX chromosome comrades, viva!” only ally in the dark. I will move forward from this having lost but

128 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris Artwork: Liang Yu Grade 12

Viewpoint: English

Luet Buys Grade 12 Sasha-Lee Gush Grade 9 Sasha -Lee Gush Grade 9

a little of myself. I am designed to multiply and bring to life. brilliant between the blocks of black and white.
What separates us is your weakness. You, who could not bear That room was never barren. Everyone would be rooted in the
the pressure of a relationship, of its ups and downs, will possibly rich soil of the room, growing, blossoming, facing the sun.
be recycled into something far less glorious. You will be mixed A blank screen:
with impure materials to produce something embodying your I sat in the hospital room. The pungent smell of morphine at my
nightmares. As for me? I won’t come around your circuit again. nostrils ... hurting. My father asked: are you getting bored here,
You, my sweet cub, never understood the depths of my love. Dad? My grandfather’s gaunt face would light up with colourful
You took it for granted. The fate of silly, motherless cubs? enthusiasm. “No. I read the paper and the nurse comes along to
Death. The death of our relationship. Oh, woe is me! What to change the drip every so often.” There was still colour, but as the
do with my dead cub? Skin it and made a pair of boots for when drip fed and the ventilator breathed, I could see the paint fading ..
I next go hunting! I could see it dripping.
Nosipho Goba (Grade 12) I sit in the TV room – staring. The air so bitterly cold, so
colourless. I sit in the TV room. The hollow in the couch
Colour my world remains vacant. I sit there staring, staring into nothingness.
Catherine Anthony (Grade 12)
A screen of colour:
I would sit in the TV room – staring, the rich peanutty air I had the key all along
blanketing me in warmth. I would sit in the TV room as the
chameleon’s face would turn green to purple. The room was full Too often I find myself feeling victimised by even the slightest
of colour. I would sit there staring, staring at him. thing. I retreat into my own darkness and perhaps it’s my
Every Friday I would watch my grandfather flick through the masochism that causes me to linger there longer than I should.
television stations, hoping to find a good game of golf. His face Perhaps, whimpering and self-pity work best in the dark. Maybe
would light up, reflecting the colours of the box – electric with that’s why I, a young black woman, have made whining an art.
colour. From an early age I realised that turning an unfavourable
He was Lebanese, which meant he had an abnormally large nose. situation into a favourable one was as simple as brushing my
He was bald. He only had one eye, and he had false teeth – a teeth. Provided I had the correct audience, I could manipulate
beautiful creature. As a little girl, I would always try to change reality in one swift move: pulling the race-card. Just like that I
the colour, either by hiding his false teeth, (which he could use someone’s guilt, from a situation that they had nothing
miraculously detected) or by eating all of his peanuts, but to my to do with, to trick them into thinking their ancestor’s
complete and utter annoyance, he would calmly cock his head transgressions were their own. And they say Blacks can’t do
from side to side and smile, a crumpled smile. His golf ball of anything!’
an eye so gentle, so white. I thought I could change the colour, I hate to blame my people, but generations have passed this
but it was never red. The centre of the couch was where my down to generations without realising the enormity of it all.
grandfather had made his imprint. He would sit cross-legged, Feeling oppressed by one group of people quickly sneaks into
taking in his essential intoxicant: Jack Daniels! My grandfather your subconscious and before you know it, you’re a lamb in a
had always encompassed that depression, that hollow. wolf ’s world. It spirals out of control that easily. The problem
My cousin, Dylan, and I would watch as he would turn the pages arises when you aren’t aware of how pathetic you’ve become.
of the newspaper to fill in the white spaces of the crossword Weakness and power can be easily confused. Curled up in the
puzzles. He was a man of little speech, but just by watching him, foetal position, hurling accusations at everyone who has “done
the empty spaces were filled with words of wisdom. The paint you wrong” only affects you. I learnt that from my mother. As

129PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: English

a toddler, I would hold my breath in an attempt to get what I which you can’t grab hold of
wanted; my mother would walk away and, just before passing out, and you see your opportunities
I would realise the error of my ways. slip away.
It’s only recently that I realise I’d developed an adult version of
breath-holding. Depression. Perhaps I wasn’t hugged enough Your heart sinks
as a child. Who knows! But I’ve built barriers around myself and as your dreams do
I find it difficult to connect with people. Someone should’ve while your mind falls down a flight of stairs
told me that the people who manage to worm their way into my leading to nowhere
life can hurt me the most. People, despite my armour, have been to a place which doesn’t exist.
my biggest downfall. Relationships, of all kinds, could send me
fleeing into my dark labyrinth of a soul. Being in the dark is Long days have passed
morbidly beautiful; when you really know how to cry, there’s and long stages have too.
nothing better. But in the darkness, you can’t find your way out. Your mind dwells on things
A soul to match my complexion and the only one to notice was that time cannot heal
me and the only one I was hurting was myself. Damn my people and no one can tell you
after all. otherwise.
That’s how I came to realise the beauty of love. It’s the world’s Cara Furniss (Grade 12)
greatest bacteria: it can be cultured in even the harshest
conditions. Just like that, it was suddenly all before me. I gasped Midnight hour
at the sheer splendour of it all. Love. Love for myself and life
and all the light in the world that should’ve been passed down to A cloaked stranger looms overhead.
me. Instead of hurting my oppressors, I would love them. With mock cordiality, it introduces itself as insanity.
Nosipho Goba (Grade 12) Minions of this ominous alien are first to terrorize;
They too, make themselves known
Untitled And in the desolate corners of my mind,
They take up residence.
I am a sunflower and you are my sun.
I retreat into a cocoon of your memory Swiftly, the first takes control.
as the darkness claws at my spirit. Swirling savagely in realms of a long lost sanity,
I life my head from a bow at dawn with a ravished soul He tears at a painfully-established sense of security
and your rays pierce my sorrow. He leaves me fragile, vulnerable
and without a thread of reason.
The sky blushes pink at your command His name is FEAR. He promises never to let go –
as you notice me shyly turning my face
to you. The second soon blows a deadly, disillusioning kiss.
And while I long to feel your golden embrace, Hovering in my innermost thoughts,
I can only touch you with my gaze. He claws at what I thought was my identity.
He leaves me doubtful of what is ME,
This howling wind is jealous of our unwavering love. He laughs at my insecurity.
If only it would be so kind His name is Inadequacy. He promises never to let go –
to pick me up and blow me into your arms.
But it steals you from me. It steals your warmth. Insanity quickly resumes His position as leader.
And although it kisses the whole wide earth, it longs only for you. With a malicious snarl,
He reminds me of my insignificance.
The children of the clouds have not yet felt He dooms me to eternity in a deranged mind,
the passion of star-crossed lovers. a mind He assures me will be governed by Him.
They tease me and hide you from my anxious eyes. Reluctantly, I let Him take control.
They do not understand the value of these precious minutes, For a moment, my mind takes perverse joy
that time is but a hostile friend. I having resigned to this masterful Fiend...

My blood seeps across the horizon as you leave me. Then an old friend returns.
The moon arrives to mock my obsession. As though separated for eons,
I retreat into a cocoon of your memory we enjoy a tender embrace.
as the darkness claws at my spirit. With a sudden surge of pride I thought long forgotten,
I am a sunflower and you are my sun. I introduce her to the invasive imposters in my being.
Vishika Babulal (Grade 12) Her name is Hope, Faith and Love.
She does not promise never to let go,
Otherwise She simply reminds me that in Her,
I have a friendship surpassing all else
Sometimes you feel like And that in my HEART,
Life is r u n n i n g past you. She has always had permanent dwelling.
You have a flow of ideas Nkamogeleng Mahlaela (Grade 12)

130 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

Afrikaans
Stelwerk

Lena Ek weet nie wanneer sy gesterf het nie, of sy alleen was toe sy
gesterf het, of sy bang was, of iemand haar hand vasgehou het en
Vanoggend het my sussie Erika my gevra om haar hare in ‘n of sy ooit ‘n behoorlike begrafnis gekry het nie. Ek wonder
Franse vlegsel te vleg, nes Lena dit altyd vir haar gedoen het. Sy dikwels wat van Thabang geword het vir wie sy so kennelik lief
het ook haar Sneeuwitjierokkie aangetrek wat Lena met soveel was.
liefde vir haar gemaak het. My sussie het my vanoggend ook gevra of Lena in die hemel is en
Ek weet nie eers van watter dorp of stad Lena vandaan gekom het haar nog kan sien. Ek het haar geantwoord deur te sê dat ek dink
nie. Ek weet nog minder wat haar van was. Sy het op ‘n gegewe dat dit beslis die geval is.
dag by ons huis opgedaag en ons huishulp, Sibongile, het gevra of Sy het my vertel hoe sy na Lena verlang en toe haar koppie
sy vir ‘n kort rukkie by ons kon aanbly, want sy het geen gedraai, maar ek het besef dat sy besig was om te huil.
heenkome gehad nie. Haar karige besittinkies het in ‘n Oor Lena. Oor Thabang. Oor ons. Oor ons verganklikheid.
gehawende tassie gepas. Sy het ook haar kleinseun,Thabang, wat Gemma-May Grotepass (Graad 8)
net vier jaar oud was, saamgebring. My ma het ingestem.
Weke het jare geword en Lena het nog steeds aangebly. Ek kan Kerk
haar nou nog in my geestesoog sien. Sy was rietskraal, en het ‘n
bril, met ongelooflike groot lense wat kort-kort by haar neus wou Die deur van die ou kerk swaai stadig oop met ‘n dowwe kreun.
afgly, gedra. Sy was reeds gevorderd in jare soos haar plooie en Die lig val deur die rooi, groen, blou en geel glas – ‘n goue gordyn.
grys hare getuig het. Dit betrap die stoffies wat in die lug ronddartel soos stoute
Sy het altyd denimbroeke gedra, wat opmerklik was, want dit was kindertjies wat na slapenstyd nog wakker is.
geensins deel van haar Zulu-tradisie nie. Sy het slegs twee paar Hy sit op die harde, ongemaklike bank en sug.
denimbroeke gehad en ek het besef dat die res van haar Die bome verlang na woud en wind.
besittinkies bestaan het uit twee bloesies, ‘n storieboek vir Misvormde, gesmelte kerse – vet, rond, lank en kort – flikker teen
Thabang en kleertjies vir hom. Voorts, natuurlik, was daar haar die hemel: ‘n hol, ronde plafon met illusies beskilder.
grootste trots, ‘n naaldwerkmasjien, wat sy soos goud bewaar het. Iewers fluister iemand ‘n skande
Sy was ‘n besondere goeie naaldwerkster. Baie van ons gordyne Vuil wasgoed oor ‘n pasgewaste mat –
is deur haar gemaak en hang in ons kamers as ‘n stil, fier, ‘n teken dat jy nooit alleen sal wees nie.
permanente herinnering van haar ruim hart. Al probeer jy ook hoe hard.
Sy het onmiddellik probeer om my tweejarige sussie in ‘n Jy is darem alleen gebore.
vegetariër te verander. Groente, vrugte, boontjies en neute was al Die gedagte maak die oomblik
wat vir haar getel het. Sy het veral van “umfino”, of te wel Net soveel draagliker.
spinasie, gehou. My sussie het gewoond geraak aan haar Micke van Zyl (Graad 10)
tradisionele disse en hulle bo my ma se kos verkies.
Ek kan nou nog die koddige prentjie in my kop sien van hoe Lena Label
en klein Erika en Thabang op die sofa gesit het en na “Sneeuwitjie
en Die Sewe Dwergies”, gekyk het. Dit was Erika se gunsteling- Ek stuur die brief op die wit voël se vlerke:
video. Hulle het waarskynlik meer as ‘n honderd keer daarna “wees my kavalier in die donker.
gekyk en al drie van hulle kon al die woorde van die video Ek wil sabander met jou klinkers,
woordeliks opsê. Maar die papier pootjie my.
My ma het Lena ‘n salaris betaal, met die gevolg dat sy ‘n piepklein Ek’s filantroop – net vir jou.”
sinkhuisie vir haarself gekoop het. Een aand het my ma haar daar
afgelaai. Lena het baie hoflik gesê dat sy ons ongelukkig nie kon Ek like Levi – jeans.
innooi nie, omdat sy nog besig was om haar plekkie op te knap. Diesel is ook fine.
Toe het Lena eensklaps kortasem begin word en hartprobleme Ek kan redeneer oor Soviet
ontwikkel. Een middag het my ma tuisgekom en ‘n briefie van tot die haan begin te kraai –
Lena gekry. Sy het haar hartlik bedank vir alles en geskryf dat die maar my label
dokter haar meegedeel het dat sy nie meer lank het om te lewe nie. is Puritaans …
Sy het gesê sy wou “tuis”, in KwaZulu Natal, waar sy gebore is, Jy verlei my met jou konsonante
sterwe.
131PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: Afrikaans Amal op hul eie trant,
te besig, om Samaritan te speel.
Jy verkwik my siel, sonder kwaal. Net ek wiet wat agte die motgevriete
Met jou op my tydlose tong kan ek Maskers vrot.
Vloek
Vry Vadag het my kykes genadiglik oepgagan,
Stry Omi kinnes te sien speel ini park.
Jy’s my doodskoot Sonne kommer en hartseer
my darling Hardloep hul na hul mammies
my doring… Wat hastig-hastig roomys lek
AFRIKAANS! Oppad office toe.
Wilmare Dippenaar (Graad 11)
More lyk ma’ani vuil kant.
Karnallie Karnaval Gin prospects, gin liefde.
Mense jag viby, mors hul kos,
lag Mors hul tyd, mors hul chances.
rooi neus Ek heti iets om te morsi,
wit woelige handskoen Dis hoekom môre ‘n challenge is – indeed…
klokkieshoed Wilmare Dippenaar (Graad 11)
tanne
goliath-poot plons en P-L-A-S Dogter spoor verlore ouers op
groenbroek kul na khaki
vernederd hartseer Die reën val hard. Die ou plaashuis staan in algehele stilte. Sy
wiele draai
eensaam hoor ‘n gil. Vlamme kom by die vensters uit en ‘n vrou met ‘n
pret-trok woeps weg
vermaak histerie baba in haar arms struikel by die voordeur uit. Die baba huil en die
eindig
helder linte land om die huis brand …
ronde hoepel
poeldelhonde Anna het wakker geskrik. Haar droom van hulle ou plaashuis het
vuurvlamme
blote gedagte verlate droom haar benoud gemaak. Sy het opgespring en water gedrink.
Wilmare Dippenaar (Graad 11)
Shadow, haar grys wolf, het met potblou oë na haar gekyk. Anna
Donne Grobler Grade 12
het op haar bed gesit en na die waterdruppels teen die treinvenster
“Legends” van ons society
gestaar. Dit was donker buite en oor twee ure sou sy in die Groot
Gisti is goddank viby,
Want dit isi iets wat ek wil onthou nie. Stad wees. Sy het haar hongertjie in haar hande vasgehou; daarin
Vadag is kamma ‘n gift,
Ma’ niks kry ons vernieti. was daar ‘n foto van haar
More is gesê om ‘n challenge te wies;
Ja, indeed isit ‘n challenge. ouers, maar haar ouma

Gisti het rykgatte viby galoep het gesê hulle het
Sonne om gjeld in my gathoed te gooi.
weggegaan toe sy gebore
132 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris
is.

“Eendag sal ek jou vind.

Ek belowe”, het sy gesê.

Die stad was ‘n baie

besige plek. Motors en

busse het in elke straat

gestaan en duisende

mense het rondgeloop.

Anna het haar viool in

die strate gespeel om

meer geld te verdien. Sy

het by ‘n ou vrou

Liang Yu Grade 12 gewoon en hulle was
baie gelukkig saam.

Een nag het Elize, die ou vrou, Anna se foto gesien. Sy het

daaroor uitgevra en toe sy die antwoord gehoor het, het sy ‘n

antieke musiekboek vir Anna gegee.

“Neem hierdie boek na my buurvrou, asseblief. Sy sal baie

dankbaar wees”, het Elize gesê.

Anna het die boek gevat en by die deur uitgeloop. Shadow het

haar gevolg. Toe sy naby die buurvrou se voordeur gekom het,

het sy vioolmusiek gehoor. Anna het aan die deur geklop. Die

musiek agter die deur het stil geraak. Die deur is deur die vrou

oopgemaak. Anna het geskrik. Die vrou wat voor haar gestaan

het, was die vrou van haar.

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

Hulle het gehuil en mekaar vasgehou. Anna het haar ma
uiteindelik gevind!
Sam Ferreira (Graad 12)

Die belangrikste persoon in my lewe … Janine Engelbrecht Grade 9

Hy is vol liefde, hoop, passie en vrygewigheid. Hy is die enigste ‘n Hele groep meisies in sportdrag loop by die lughawe in.
persoon wat so saggeaard teenoor my is, maar in my oë is Hy die Hulle giggel en klets. Almal is so opgewonde en hulle
enigste persoon wat my nooit sal teleurstel nie. Ek het Hom nodig. probeer almal gelyk praat. Tipies vroumens!
Vir my is God die belangrikste persoon in my lewe. ‘n Swart BMW hou buite die lughawe stil. Die donker
Hoe kan jy iemand so ongelooflik beskryf ? Woorde laat my in die vensters van die motor verraai niks nie. Die nommerplate
steek. Eintlik is God so groot en verstommend dat hy blink sodat ek nie die nommers kan uitmaak nie.’
onbeskryflik is. ‘n Baba probeer praat, maar sy maak nie sin nie. ‘n Klein
Vir my is God die enigste persoon op wie ek rêrig kan vertrou. Hy groepie familie sit saam. Altwee die mammas en pappas
is my held en my krag. God het ons so lief dat Hy sy enigste seun glimlag vir die pragtige baba. Hulle lyk doodgelukkig.
net vir ons sonde gegee het. Dit is Sy groot liefde wat my help. Ek ‘n Man klim uit die donker BMW uit. Hy het pikswart klere
is al deur baie ongelukkige tye in my lewe, maar ek weet dat God aan. Die emosies op sy gesig is ook soos ‘n donker nag.
die tye gebruik om my geloof te laat groei. Voor ek God geken ‘n Meisie giggel. Sy sit op ‘n bankie. Haar bene is gekruis.
het, was ek ‘n lelike mens vol sonde, maar noudat ek die voorreg Sy leun oor na die jongman langs haar. Haar hare val in haar
het om Hom te ken, verbeter my lewe elke dag. gesig. Die jongman vee haar hare agter haar oor in en hy hou
Hoe meer ek van Hom leer, hoe liewer raak ek vir Hom. Ek is in ‘n haar hande styf in sy skoot vas. Hulle lyk smoorverlief.
verhouding met Hom en dit is my verantwoordelikheid om met Die man in swart haal iets agter die kar uit. Dis ‘n groot
Hom te groei. Hy het ongelooflike mense in my lewe geplaas om swart sak. Hy hou iets kleins in sy hand vas. Die donker
‘n spesifieke rede. BMW ry weg.
Sonder God sal ek nêrens wees nie. Hy is die grootste deel van my ‘n Ou paartjie loop verby. Hulle sukkel om te loop, maar
lewe; ek het Hom nodig. Nou dat ek God se liefde aanvaar het, is hulle help mekaar. Hulle hou styf hande vas asof hulle nie
ek ‘n nuwe persoon. Deur God weet ek dat enige iets moontlik is. sonder mekaar sal kan leef nie. Ware liefde reflekteer uit
Alles gebeur perfek op Sy tyd. hulle blink, blou oë.
Ek het altyd die idee gehad dat “om te sien is om te glo”, maar net Ek begin na die man in swart te loop.
as jy regtig glo, sal God jou oë oopmaak om te sien. Hy loop vinniger.
Christi Prost (Graad 12) Ek begin hardloop.
Hy skreeu iets wat ek nie verstaan nie, en druk die klein rooi
Meer as ‘n ma knoppie in sy hand.
Ek is te laat. Dis verby. Die bom ontplof…
Sy is my heldin, inspirasie en vriendin, maar sy is my ma! Lauren King (Graad 12)
My ma is baie spesiaal en gee baie groot betekenis aan my lewe. Sy
doen alles vir my, sy betaal my skoolgeld, maak seker dat ek klere Ek ry per taxi skool toe
het om te dra, en gee meer liefde as enige persoon in my lewe. My
ma is vriendelik en ek kan met haar oor enige iets praat. Dit is Die deur slaan toe. Almal skuif-skuif ‘n bietjie hier en skuif-
eintlik ‘n skok dat sy al hierdie goeie eienskappe het, omdat sy skuif ‘n bietjie daar. Ons pas in die taxi soos mieliepitte op ‘n
groot geword het in ’n baie arm familie met ‘n afwesige vader. Sy mieliekop, nie ‘n enkel plek is ongebruik nie. Die taxi dreun
is die oudste kind in die familie, dus was dit haar
verantwoordelikheid om seker te maak dat sy omgee vir al haar 133PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris
broers en susters.
‘n Mens sou dink dat ‘n kind, uit so ‘n situasie, ‘n baie moeilike
toekoms sou hê of ‘n bitter mens word, maar nie my ma nie! Sy
het hard gewerk en het ‘n verpleegster geword toe sy 22 jaar oud
was. Dit maak my baie trots om ‘n ma soos sy te hê. Sy het baie
liefde in haar hart, nie net vir
Pasiënte nie, en doen haar werk so goed sy kan. Baie dokters by
die hospital ken haar vir haar harde en goeie werk.
Ons is vyf kinders by die huis en my ma en my pa werk hard om
seker to maak dat ons ‘n beter toekoms het. Alles wat ek gesê het,
is nie genoeg om my ma te beskryf nie. Ek kan ‘n boek oor haar
skryf, maar vir nou, dink ek, is dit genoeg om te se: “My ma is die
Beste!”
Johanna Mojela (Graad 12)

Avontuur verander in ‘n tragedie

My vrou het my sekuriteitsuniform silwerskoon gewas en gestryk.
Sy sê altyd my werk is ‘n avontuur en daarom moet ek goed lyk.

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

vorentoe. Ek sien hoe my straat in die truspieëltjie verdwyn. Is almal reg vir Somer
Die lug is nog donker en dit is moeilik om uit die voorruit te Kyk bly na blaarlose bome.
sien, want dit is toegewasem. Ek weet werklik nie hoe hierdie
bestuurder so vinnig deur al hierdie verkeer vlieg nie. Party dae En wag hoopvol vir die reën
word ek doodbang as ons verby ander karre ry, want ons wat binnekort die aarde sal seën
vensters is net millimeters van hulle s’n. Ek kan voel hoe die want
bestuurder die taxi in ‘n hoër rat sit. Die taxi ruk vorentoe. As die bome bot
Vandag is ek gelukkig, want ek het ‘n venstersitplek gekry. Die Is dit wêreldsgenot!
materiaal van die sitplek is al plat gesit dus is dit baie Louise van Tonder (Graad 8)
ongemaklik. Die man wat langs my sit, ruik ‘n bietjie soos ‘n
veldvuur. Sy klere is oud en vol gate. Ek wonder waarnatoe hy Boerewors, rugby en drank!
op pad is. Miskien gaan hy werk soek. Ek het al die snaaksste
mense in taxis ontmoet. As jy in die land van Suid-Afrikaners wil oorleef,
Teen die tyd dat ons in my skool se omgewing is, het die son al Is daar drie dinge wat jy ernstig moet oorweeg.
opgekom. Die lug is blou gekleur. Dou vorm op die vensters Boerewors, rugby en drank.
van die taxi. Ek maak my venster oop om ‘n bietjie vars lug te Hoor jy die skare, ruik jy die vleis se rook,
kry, maar al wat ek kry, is lug vol stof en die reuke van karre wat dis die rugbywedstryd wat by jou begin spook.
verby ry. Gryp jou hemp, gryp jou beker
Ek hoor hoe die taxi se enjin brullend sukkel om oor die laaste En gaan troos die arme verloorders
paar bulte te kom. Ons is baie swaar gelaai vandag; daar is seker hul gesigte word bleker en bleker.
te veel mense in hierdie taxi. Gelukkig klim ek by die volgende Sjerrie, klippies en coke, tequila of bier
halte uit. Ek kronkel verby al die ander passasiers om by die Hoekom terughou, jy’t rede om te vier!
deur uit te kom. Ek betaal die bestuurder en klim uit die taxi. Dis die einde van die dag en jy’s heeltemal dronk,
Die deur slaan toe … Môre is jy babbelas en word wakker in die tronk.
Carmyn Gast (Graad 12) O, GAATS!
WAT NOU?
Ek ry per taxi skool toe Saskia en Krisanka Redelinghuys (Graad 8)

Die bome wieg in die yskoue wind. Die son is nog nie op nie, Verlorenkloof
maar ek is gereed vir ‘n interessante, energieke, nuwe dag! Dit is
amper sesuur. Weggebêre tussen die majestueuse bergreekse van Mpumalanga,
Van ver af hoor ek die polsende ritme van musiek wat nader en sowat sewentig kilometer vanaf Lydenburg se stowwerige
nader kom. Die grond begin te vibreer. Dit voel asof my hart kafeetjies en leë strate, is Verlorenkloof Vakansieoord; ‘n groepie
die spoed van die ritme probeer hou. Wat maak altyd harde kothuisies aan die voet van die beeldskone berg. Dié
geluide soos dié? Natuurlik, ‘n Suid-Afrikaanse taxi! Die taxi is indrukwekkende reus betaan uit ‘n steil grashelling en ‘n
propvol. Al die gesigte staar na my. Ek is vir hulle soos ‘n appel rotsagtige piek, wat soos die kruin van ‘n golf oor die landskap
wat in ‘n groot blik tamaties beland het! Die enigste oop plek is waak.
langs ‘n groot vrou met twee rooi en groen hoenders op haar Vyfuur op ‘n koue wintersoggend, wanneer die veld doodstil is en
skoot! die enigste beweging die blare is wat effens in die koel briesie roer,
Die ronde, goue son begin om op te kom. Die sonsopkoms is word die horison net-net oranje en lig die mis in slierte van die
verskillende kleure: rooi, geel, oranje. Dit is soos ‘n fantastiese grasvlaktes af. As ‘n mens gedurende hierdie tyd van die oggend
verwelkoming van ‘n nuwe dag. Ons gaan eers deur ‘n die wrede koue en klam veld sou aandurf, as ‘n mens se wilskrag
woonbuurt om ‘n paar mense af te laai. Deur die klein jou toelaat om deur de digte grasse by die steil helling op te
venstertjie sien ek koeie wat die pad wil oorsteek. Hulle is klouter, sal jy met ‘n asemrowende belewenis beloon word.
pikswart en spierwit en die kalwers volg die koeie. Ek sien ook Tien oor vyf in die oggend, staan ek tussen die lang, koue grasse
netjiese kinders met hulle skoolklere aan wat hulle ouers groet. en staar na die grootse rotse en veld. Ek begin stap. Na twee ure
Hulle lyk opgewonde om vandag iets nuuts te leer. Die winkels se stryd teen die digte gras en die vlymskerp rotswande, bereik ek
begin ook oopmaak. Daar is ‘n vars reuk van hout wat brand en die berg se piek. Die son is laag op die horison en vul die landskap
van tipiese Suid-Afrikaanse koffie in die lug. Die reuke is met sy goue glans. Uitgeput, gaan sit ek op ‘n gladde rots om die
welkom in die taxi. toneel te beskou. Die koue lug brand my longe, en ek leun terug
My aandag word skielik getrek na ‘n geknars van iemand wat teen ‘n rots wat my rug strelend verkoel, terwyl ek my in die
Mopani-wurms kou. Die man daag my uit om een te proe. Ai, skilderagtige uitsig verlustig: die goue sonligtapyt wat oor die
toggie! Onwillekeurig trek ek ‘n vies gesig. Hulle lag. landskap uitgestrek lê, deurweek die veld met intense kleur, die
Ek is net betyds vir skool. Almal kyk met verbasing na my. Ek helderpienk wolkies wat laag op die horison lê en die fyn takkies
gee nie om nie, want ek hou daarvan om anders te wees en die van die struike wat teen die geel-oranje hemel afgeëts is. Ek maak
hartklop van die platteland deur my are te voel bruis. my oë toe en haal diep asem. Die skerp, vars reuk van die veld
Hannah Fobian (Graad 12) herinner my aan my kinderdae. Dit ruik na opwinding, na
onbesorgdheid.
Somer Ek voel skielik gevul met ‘n borrelende vrolikheid. As vryheid
bestaan, dink ek meteens, is dit hoe dit voel. Ek voel ekstaties,
Na die Winterkoue bevry … volmaak. In my ekstase, staan ek op, lig my arms
met sy geniepsige kloue omhoog en begin te sing. In die koelte van die oggend, in die

134 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Artwork: Micke van Zyl Grade 10

Viewpoint: Afrikaans

Liang Yu Grade 12 Madelize Geldenhuys Grade 9 Megan Steyn Grade 11

kollig van die goue sonskyn, weergalm my woorde deur die plek op die ganse aarde waar ek so heel en vol verwondering
rotskranse. Ek glimlag. Die landskap het skielik verander in ‘n kan voel – die koppie agter die plaashuis op Akam 103.
oneindige koor wat ék self dirigeer, met die kothuisies en Danielle van Wyk (Graad 10)
grasvlaktes, ver benede, as my gehoor en met die stilte van die
oggend as my enigste begeleiding. Ek verlustig my in die foutlose My Gunsteling Plekkie
oomblik, die proeseltjie volmaaktheid … die onbesrykflike
harmonie wat ontstaan uit die ontmoeting van plek en tyd. My skoolskoene klop dof op die roesrooi Italiaanse teëls van
Trudie Spangenberg (Graad 10) die musieksentrum soos ek met die trappe op deur die donker
gangetjie na C5, my spesiale oefenkamertjie, stap. Dit was ‘n
My eie stukkie hemel lang en warm dag, my asem blaas en ek kreun onder my
skooltas.
Die laatmiddagwindjie speel sag deur my hare. Rondom my strek Die brons sleutel sukkel-sukkel in die slot in soos altyd. Walms
die verlatenheid uit so ver as wat die oog kan sien en die oor kan van die emalje-verf op die ou geelhoutdeur penetreer my
hoor. Ek sit op ‘n plat rots hoog bo die opstal. Van waar ek sit, lyk neusgate. Die slot kraak hoorbaar en die deur swaai oop.
dit soos ‘n pophuis. Binne staan ‘n klein tafeltjie, ‘n swart plastiek saalstoel en
Die son is besig om sy kop in die Weste te laat sak. Die blou lug in bowenal, ‘n klavier. Ek is nou tuis.
die Ooste, eienaardig genoeg, verkleur gaandeweg in skakerings Die lig sit in die hoek van die dak wat teen ‘n helling loop. Dit
van pienk, oranje en uiteindelik die donkerste pers. flikker aan en die piepklein kamertjie verhelder. Geelgevlekte
Dit gaan netnou donker wees. Ek hang asof met opgehoue asem mure begroet my, die donkerblou mat is deurgetrap en
tussen twee oomblikke van uiterste mooi. Aan die eenkant, die muwwerig, maar dis hier hier waar ek verdwyn.
asemrowende Namibiese-sononder; aan die anderkant, die Ek plak my tas en lêers op die vierkantige skooltafeltjie neer en
skitterende sterrehemel van ‘n maanlose nag. maak die vuil venstertjie op sy wydste oop vir ‘n bietjie
Dis pure saligheid … ventilasie. Dit is tog bloedwarm. Die koue plastiekstoel kom
Die enigste geluid wat die stilte versteur, is die geblêr van my bas tegemoet. My oë blink met die gedagte van ‘n wêreld
boklammers, wat in ligte vlagies op die vlerke van die wind wat kan vergaan, terwyl ek hier by die bejaarde eikehout-klavier
aangewaai kom. Tussen die takke van ‘n ou Presopusboom, draai sit. My hart bons teen my ribbekas. Die kap van die klavier gly
die rooksuil van ‘n kampvuur lui-lui op. gemaklik oop. Die klawers herinner my aan plaakbedekte
Die helder aandster kondig nag aan. My oë nael vas op die tande wat vir my glimlag. Ek glimlag maar terug.
hemelboog wat nou van donkerblou na swart verander. Ek word Vir ‘n oomblik sit ek en luister. Die gedreun van ‘n saksofoon
betower deur die flonkerende liggies wat een na die ander deur ‘n syfer deur die mure. My oë glip toe en my vingers begin oor die
onsigbare hand daarbo aangesteek word. klawers te vlieg. Musieknote stroom uit my hart uit en spring
Bekende sterrebeelde maak hul verskyning, met ‘n intensiteit wat op die klavier se klawers rond. My lewensmelodie vul die
nooit in ‘n stad gesien kan word nie. Konstellasies wat selfs deur kamer tot barstens toe vol. Dis net ek, my klavier en my musiek
die maan se lig verdryf word, oortrek die hemelruim in ‘n in hierdie bedompige kamertjie wat op hierdie oomblik vir my
pragvertoning sonder gelyke. saak maak. Hierdie vier mure wat my so met liefde en empatie
Regbo verdeel die melkweg, andersins so sku, die sterreprag in in hul arms toevou, het al die donkerste hoekie in die doolhof
twee. Ek tel een, twee, drie sterre wat met helder silwer hale oor van my hart verlig.
die swart seil van die nag verskiet. C5 is my klein stukkie hemel in ‘n wêreld wat net verwoesting
Staar jy stip, maak ‘n satelliet homself in sy lui gang deur die saai. Dis dié wêreld wat my gebreek het, maar dis in C5 waar ek
sterrebaan sigbaar. Soos ek stadig, voel-voel, my pad oor die rotse weer heel geword het.
ondertoe vind, vertroetel ek die herinnering, want daar is net éen Netéske Horton (Graad 10 )

135PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: Sepedi

Sepedi

Creative Writing

Go bala ke bokamoso Ke ile ka hlakahlakana ge ke lemoga gore sefatanaga se se šweu ke
sa bomalome . Gore koko o fihlile neng, ga ke tsebe. Felo fao
Mopresidente wa go feta wa Afrika Borwa, Nelson Mandela, o ile mmileng e be e se batho e le tšie. Batho ba be ba kgothotše mahlo.
a bolela mantšu a, “Thuto ke senotlela sa menyako bophelong.” Difatanaga tšeo ke ge di potegile , di senyegile go phala galase e
Ke la ka leo; ke kwana le taba yeo. Tsela ya go fenya lefaseng, ke pšhatlegile .
go bula dipuku. Ampolense e ile ya fihla ka re ehu. Pelo ya ka le ya koko di be di le
Ge ke lebeletše tšeo ke ratago go di dira, ga go na ye tee yeo tše ntsho , fela ka dumela gore bomalome ba ile badimong .
nkarego ke e rata go feta goba go lekana le go bala. Ka ge ke na le Nkabe ke sa ba kgopela gore ba tle, fela nkabe ke ngwana wa
mahlatse, mma o ile a kgona go nthuta go bala ke sa le morago. Kotsi ya sefatanaga ya ntshofatša letšatši la ka. Ka ntle
mapimpana wa mengwaga ye mene. le seo, ke holofela gore go bolela le wena mogwera pelo ya ka e tla
Re ile ra bala, ra bala, ra badišiša dipuku go ba go fihlela ke robala imologa.
godimo ga tšona. Ka mokgwa wo ke be ke rata go bala ka gona; Avery Mokoena (Grade 12)
ge bana ba bangwe ba llele malekere, ke be llela dipuku.
Ge ke fihla sekolong ka mphato wa mathomo, morutišigadi o ile Molwetsi yo a bakwago ke badimo ka lebaka
a mmakalela ka mokgwa wo ke bego ke kgona go bala ka gona. O
tla dira eng ka nna? Banna! Ke badile le bana ba bangwe, ka ba la bolwetsi bja HIV/AIDS
thuša gomme ka thoma go bala dipuku tše bothatanyana.
Ge mengwaga e ntše e eya, ke gotše ka dipuku gomme tša ba di Bolwetši bja HIV/AIDS ke bolwetši bjo bo kotsi kudu ka ge bo
tlošabodutu tša ka le bagwera ba ka. Ge ke kwele bohloko ke be bolaya batho ka maatla ka go makatša. Bolwetši bjo ke leswena,
ke ikgothatsa ka dipuku. Di be di nthabiša ge ke le manyaming. ga bo ralokiše, ge bo tsene motho bo a mo hlagatša bja mo fetša.
Ga ke tsebe gore nkabe ke le kae ge nkabe e se dipuku. Lehono, Ke be ke bo nyatša bolwetši bjo ge bo bolelwa ke batho, eupša
ke di rata rati dipuku tša go bala le tša sekolo. Ba bangwe ba a bjale gona ke bone ka a ka a go ponyaponya, ke bone HIV/AIDS
mmakalela eupsa ke tla reng? Ke no myemyela ka pelong. ya go phela ka sebele.
Nka re, “Go bala ke bokamoso!” ka maatla le mafolofolo ka gore Molwetši yo ke mmoneng a bakwa le badimo ka lebaka la
ke a tseba: go bala go butše menyako ya bokamoso bja ka. bolwetši bjo bja AIDS ke Mmasello Keahwa. Molwetši yo o
Mohlomogwe, ge nkabe batho ba bantši ba balela go nwa menate phetše mengwaga ye lesometharo le bolwetši bjo empa bjale
ya go bala, lefase la rena nkabe le na le lesedi go feta la bjale. Moo gona o be a fihlile mafelelong. Ge ke gopola gore e be e le
gona, ga ke tsebe, go tseba Modimo fela. masebotsana, a tsatsanka, mo a fetago e le phetla melala go tše
Thato Mabudusha (Grade 12) botse. Ke kwa ke swiswala pelo, ke bona o kare ke a lora. Phošo e
tee fela e ka fetša motho ka mokgwa wo? Ruri morago ga go bona
Kotsi ya sefatanaga ya ntshulafaletsa molwetši Mmasello Keahwa, nka se ke ka be ka leka go bapalela
bašemaneng.
letsatsi Molwetši yo Mmasello Keahwa o be a omile o kare mogwapa,
letlalo la gagwe le ngapa o kare letlalo la kwena. O be a nkga
La maabane letšatši, nka se le lebale mogwera. Kotsi ya phuu!!! Monkgo wa lehu o tletše ka phapušing ya go robala.
sefatanaga e ngongoriša mogopolo wa ka. Bošego taba ye e Molwetši a le o mo sese sese, a sa fapane le monang. Mmasello o
mpoketše , ke ka fao ke nyaka go go solela yona . Mosegare go be be a fedile go sepela e no ba go nanya o kare leobu. Molomo wa
go le bose letšatši le fiša tšhirr! Ka yeo nako ke ntšhana sa inong le gagwe o pharogile go šetše fela gore go rothe madi. Go bolela e
koko morithing wa mohlare. Re be re emetše bomalome go tšwa no ba sehebehebe, a tshwenyega, o kare go bobola nosi. Mahlo a
mokgoweng . Re lekile go gapa nako gore ba ka fihla ka ponyo ya Mmasello a be a le a mahwibidu, a bontšha gore o llela ka teng le
leihlo. gore o ineetše badimong.
Aowa , koko a ya go iša marapo go beng . Ke šetše ke le tee ka ntle, Ruri bolwetši bjo bja HIV/AIDS ke lenaba ka nnete. Bo a go ja,
go rile tuu! Morago ga setu ka kwa lešata la go kgeresa dithaba , o bja go sohla bja ba bja go šia o le noši, o se selo. Ge ke mmona
ka re go robegile sesengwe . Ke kitimetše go bona seo se pelo ya ka ile ya ja dipilo ya fifala. Se se makatšang ke gore le ge
hlagilego. Ka fihla ka go tomola mahlo! Sefatanaga se se šweu se bolwetši bjo bo gagara batho, batho ba sa no dira tša go bontšha
thutše se se ntsho. Sona se se šweu se menogile se lahletše batho gore ga ba bo tšhabe.
ba ka gare , ka ntle . Ke ge batho bao ba elela madi a lešata ba re Pele a re šia re lekile go ipea pelwana tšhwaana ra leboga ge a
perr! Dinamana tša mmele wa ka tša šia. Sefatanaga se se ntsho sa amogetše Modimo ka pelong ya gagwe ka gore ntle le Modimo,
napa sa pshikologela ka meetseng nakong yeo .

136 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: Sepedi

legodimo o be a ka se le bone. Madimabe ke gore ka morago ga megolong. Naa tseba ke ya eng ge semangmang a bolokwa ka

mengwaga ye lesometharo molwetši yoo a bakwa le badimo, o ile khasekete? Seo se šalago ke gore re ya mokoting ka moka.

a neela moya. Sesi Mmasello Keahwa ke mogologolo o ile. A re apareng go bontša gore re hlompha mohu wa rena. Re apare

Robala ka khutšo Tau. le mebala ya go bontšha gore re ya polokong. Re opele difela tša

Thoriso Mashiapata (Grade 12) maleba tša poloko, re opele ka makoko go bontšha gore re

feleseditše yoo re bego re mo rata. Ra tima dillathekeng tša rena

Baswa ba iphile diokobatsi go fihla poloko e fela. A re tsebeng phapano magareng ga lehu le
lenyalo.

Dilo tša mathomo tšeo di tlago mogopolong waka ge ke bona Lindiwe Mahlangu (Grade 11)

lentšu le la diokobatši ke mabjala, mabake, disekerete le ditagi tše

dingwe tša go fapafapana. Ka ge re tseba diokobatši tše dingwe Afrika Borwa – setshaba sa molalatladi
di a dumelelwa gore di šomišiwe ditšhabeng tša rena eupša

diswanetše go šomišwa ka tsela tša maleba tša go tsebalega. Ge Ke bolela ka bokamoso bja go fihla le ditlogolo tša ditlogolo tša

go ka se diregi ka mokgwa woo, ke moo dilo di thomago go rena. Le badimo ba tsoga mabitleng. Ba thabetše boetapele bja

senyega. Ke moo o hwetšago batho ba loketše maato mabitleng. rena. Bagagešu ke bolela ka naga ya gauta le silibere. Ke naga ye

Selo sa go kweša bohloko ke gore diokobatši tše ka moka di tala, ye tšhweu, ye ntšho. Tšatši ka tšatši Bohlabela bo sa ka go

šomišwa ke baswa kudu ditšhabeng tša rena, le gona taba ye e bina. Mehlare e bina le moya wa Leboa. Dinyonyane di opela

lekeletša dipelo ka gore ga go mo di ba išago. Baswa ba iphile mmino wa lethabo. Ge e se setšhaba sa molalatladi, e ka ba e le

tšona diokobatši. Ba swere ba tsamaya ka dihlophahlopa, ba kae?

tsene ke mekgwa ye mebe, ya go se kgahliše. Batswadi ga ba sa Afrika Borwa e eta pele ka mmino wa go tseba ke rena fela. Wa

kgona go kgala; hlompho ga go betha meropa o tsebega ka mahlo

e go; bohodu bo iphile a moya fela. O šegofaditše naga ye

maatla; go na le dintwa le bjalo ka dinaledi tša legodimo.

diphaphano dikolong ka Kgatelelo yona re e bolaile. Bjalo ka

gore le menagano ga e sa mohlologadi re bolokile manyami.

šoma gabotse. Re kgeresa dithaba ka kopelo ya

Lefase le senyegile batho ba lethabo. Ruri ruri katlego le kaugelo

sepela ka go šia, ba tšeelwa e re gatile direthe. Lerato la ditšo tša

dithoto le ditšhelete tša rena le re fa boikgokgomošo. Ka

bona. Selo sa go rothiša pelo nnete re a ikgantšha. Gape naga ye

madi ke gore ba bangwe ga ya Borwa ke sebenyabenyani sa

ba sa tseba gore sefero sa Afrika. Lefase le lewa ke tsebo. Le

sekolo se lebeletše kae. makatšwa ke setšo se sa go nona.

Mahlo a re hwibi, matsogo Naa setšo se nontšha ke eng? Aowa

ga a kgahliše, meno ona ga sona o se dikanetša ka tlhompo. Se

ke sa bolela ka ge le meaparo tla gola.

ya gona ga e sa tsebalega. Eyo! Afrika Borwa! Naa

Bana ba fetogile makgoba a Danielle Millar Grade 10 dingongorego tša gago di kae? O
diokobatši. tšere kae semyemyelo seo sa go

Naa bokamosa bja baswa ba rena bo mokae? Na e ka ba lefase ke phadima legodimong? Ga se wa huma ka tšhelete, le diphahlo

ge le lokile ka mokgwa woo? A re lekeng go ema ka maoto gore tša mabaibai di a balega. Sa go šala ke gore ke wena seetša sa

bokamoso bja rena le bja setšhaba sa rena bo tle bo be bjo bo ngwedi. Molalatladi wa ka, Afrika Borwa.

botse bja go kgahliša. Bophelo bo bothata, ka nako ye nngwe o Lethabo Motswaledi (Grade 10)

ka se kwešiše gore go diragala eng, eupša motho o buna seo a se

bjetšego, motho o ja mphufutšo wa phatla ya gagwe. Ka Ke ikgantsha ka setso sa ka
diokobatši gona re dio senya nako, ke seo batho ba swanetšego

go se lemoga. Ke tlaba ke batho bao ba lebalago setšo sa bo bona. Wa tseba

Posheletso Kekana (Grade 11) batho ba lehono ba nyaka go phela bophelo bja makgowa. Ba

rata go itebatša bophelo bjola bo be go bo phelwa ke bomakgolo

Maitshwaro A Maleba Polokong le bomakgolokhukhu a bona.
Ga ke re re se hlabologe... Aowa!, hlabologa le wena o sepele le

Ka ge re tseba gore poloko e swanetše go hlomphiwa, ka ge dinako go swana le batho ba bangwe eupša, o se ke wa lebala

tlhompho yona re fa yo a šetšego a omile nko, a re šiile. Go na le moo o tšwago gona. Go swana le mohlare motho yo mongwe le

nako ya go thaba le nako ya go lla. Re ka se re bangwe ba lla, yo mongwe ke peu ebile o na le medu. Batho ba gona ba sa duma

bangwe ba go hloka mekgwa ba sega. go ba makgowa mola ba bona lefase le eme ka dinao.

Basetsana bao ba le go mahlalagading ba rata go ya mahung ba Nna ke ikgantšha ka setšo sa ka. Ke tšwa nageng ya ga

yela go bonwa gore bona ba apere bjang bangwe ba yela Sekhukhune se bonwa ke sebataladi. Ke tšwa Ga-Rakgwadi

masogana a mabotse. Diaparo tšona, ga ke sa na molomo, ba nageng ya kgoši Matlala. Rena re ba bina tlhantlhagane, re

apara o ka re ga ba sa na maphelo kua ntle. Batswadi bona ba reng maphadima boso, re marwala lengina la tsebe le a ntshwanela. Re

bana ba bona ba ponoko polokong. Batho bona ba reng. bana ba Kgoši Mokgoma wo mogolo Kotole, a re go ga ke rate

Bangwe ba no opelela boswele o ka re ba na le dikhontshe dibodu ke rata diroto difatifati tša legola.

137PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: Sepedi

Sepedi ke leleme la gešo ebile ga ke lewe ke dihlong tša go le bolela
mo gongwe le mo gongwe ke fihlago. Ke rata moaparo wola wa
rena wa ntepa le theto, mabojana, ditlhwatlhwadi le dimabejana.
Ke ile ka ba le monyetla wa go apara moaparo wo ge ke aloga
komeng. Ke nna Pheladi, ke kgaetšedi ya bo Ngwato le boPhaahla.
Dimpho Matlala (Grade 10)

T huto ke senotlelo sa bophelo Micke van Zyl Grade 10

Thuto e bohlokwa kudu kudu ebile ga go na motho yo a ka go Bafaladi
tšeelago yona. Matšatšing a lehono dinyakego di tsamaišana le
thuto. Lehono go nyakega thuto gobane ge o na le thuto o kgona Bafaladi – wena o nagana ka eng ge motho a bolela ka bafaladi?
go phela bophelo bjo bo kaone. Ge o se na thuto goba o se o rutege O nyaka go ba thuša? Goba o nyaka go ba tloša tšatšing? Taba ya
go boima go humana mošomo goba ga o humane mošomo ebile bafaladi kgale e gakantšhitše batho ba Afrika- Borwa le batho ba
bophelo bo ba boima. Go boima go humana mošomo gobane ga lefaseng nako ye telele. Bafaladi ba go tšwa dinageng tše dingwe
o na bokgoni bja mošomo woo. tša go swana le Zimbabwe ba lesa magae a bona ba nagana gone
Bomakgolo a rena ga se ba tsene sekolo ebile ba be ba tšea batho ba Afrika -Borwa ba tlo ba thuša ka nako ye bohloko –
mošomo o mongwe le o mongwe go iphediša le go phediša malapa Aowa. Batho ba Afrika Borwa ba ba tšhošetša, ba ba botša gore
a bona. Ga re ithutele fela ka lebaka la tšhelete. Re ithutela gore re ba boele gabobona, ba ba bitša ka mainaina a go fapana. Ba dira
kgone go thuša setšhaba sa rena. dilo tše ka boomo eupša, lebaka ke eng?
Baithuti ke batho ba go swana le boramolao, dingaka, baoki, Batho ba bantši ba nagana gore ge rena re bolaya batho ba
barutiši bjalo bjalo. Ke batho bao re lorago go swana le bona Zimbabwe e thuša Afrika- Borwa ka gore bona bafaladi ba tliša
letšatši le lengwe. Ke batho bao re latelago bona gobane ke batho diokobatši mo Afrika Borwa goba ba utswa dilo tša mo magaeng
bao ba šomišitšeng thuto go fihla mo ba leng. Mmušo o hlohloletša a rena. Badudi ba Afrika Borwa ba re ke ka lebaka la bafaladi
thuto, go swana le bana ba bahloki. Bona ba tsena sekolo ba sa lefe gore ekonomi e ye fase. Nna ke nagana gore ga se phošo ya bona
selo gobane ba nyaka le bana ba bahloki le bona ba be le bokamoso gore nageng ya bona ga e kgone go šoma ka tšhelete gabotse.
bjo bo botse ebile ba phele bophelo bjo bo kaone. Mola rena batho ba Afrika Borwa kgale re na le bothata mo
Bomakgolo a rena ba rerešitše ge ba re thutela bogolo e a roba. A nageng ya rena bona, bafaladi ba re thušitše. Ke be ke se gona ka
re tiisetše ka dithuto tša rena re sa le babaswa. Go ithuta dilo o le o nako tšeo eupša ge bona ba re thušitše le rena re swanetše re ba
mogolo go boima. Ga go bonolo go boela sekolong o le yo mogolo thuše. Nna ke nagana gore bothata ke gore ba ba bantši ba go
o thome bophelo fase. Mašopeng go a boelwa eupša mpeng ga go dula Afrika Borwa ga ba rate batho ba go tla dinageng tše
boelwe. dingwe, ka gore bona ba nagana gore ba tlo tšea mošomo wa
Kamogelo Maaka (Grade 10) bona. Taba yeo ga e na tlhaloganyo ka gore batho ba mo Afrika
Borwa ba phutha matsogo be re, “Ga gona mošomo”. Le ge ba
Batswantle ba hwetsa tsohle mahala šoma ga ba šome ga botse go swano le batho ba go tšwa
dinageng tše dingwe.
Ee, ke dumelelana le gore batšwantle ba hwetša tšohle mahala. Ga Batho ba dinageng tše dingwe ba bantši ga ba na le mošomo, ga
ke gane gore re swanetše gore re ba thuše, eupša re tla dira bjang ge ba na le diaparo, ga ba na le dintlo tšeo ba tlo kgonago go dula
ba bangwe ba etla Afrika Borwa ka go tshela molao, ba bangwe ebile ga ba na dijo, ba dula bohloko. Rena re tla be re thothomela
ebile ba re utswetša. Ee go tšwa go rena go ba thuša eupša ba ge re robala mo mebileng. Ge motho a bolela ka bafaladi ba
bangwe ba thoma go raloka ka lefa la rena. nagana gore bona ke manaba a Afrika Borwa. Bafaladi ge ba se
Re a kwešiša gore ba tla ka mo ka lebaka la gore nageng ya bona ba humane mošomo ba thoma mošomo ya bona. Bafaladi ba go
a hlakišwa, gomme ditokelo tša bona ga di išwe hlogong. Go boima falala ba na le toro. Ba tla mo Afrika Borwa ka gore ba nyaka toro
go bona ka gore ge ba fihla ka mo, ga ba na selo, ba no itlhakela, ya bona e tšwelela. Re na re swanetše go bona mo go bona gore
eupša ga se bona fela, le batho bangwe ba mo Afrika Borwa ba a ditoro gona thama. Ke bona ba go ruta bana ba Afrika Borwa
hlaka. gore ge o na le toro o se ke wa e lebelela e dikelela. O e sware
Mmušo o leka go re thuša ka maatla eupša borakgwebo mo Afrika gore o kgone go fihlelela toro yeo ya gago.
Borwa ga ba tšee maikarabelo a go thuša badudi ba bangwe ba mo Lehlogonolo Malete (Grade 9)
Afrika Borwa ka ge le bona ba hloka thušo. Ba palelwa ke eng go
thuša batho ba ba lego nageng ya bona?
Ga se selo se sebe gore ba thuša batšwantle, ke selo se se botse,
eupša tlogatloga e tloga gae modiši wa kgomo o tšwa natšo šakeng.
Batšwantle ba bangwe ba dira gore ba nyake mošomo go bontšha
gore ba iteka, ga ba dule ba emetše dilo tša mahala. Bothata e no ba
gore ba lefsa tšhelete ya tlase kudu gomme seo ma Afrika Borwa ga
a se dumele.
Bjale ke tlo feleletša ka gore, batšwantle ba na le go gontši kwa ba
ka yang gona, eupša ba kgetha go tla mo Afrika Borwa. Re a*dima
naga ya bona tšhelete, gona bjale, re fetše re ba fe dilo tša mahala.
Re ka se kgone go ba fa tšohle, ka gore le rena re swanetše go
thušiwa. Ka seo ke re ba a re imela, ga ba boele gae.
Duduzile Ngele (Grade 9)

138 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: German

German

Viewpoint

131PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: French

French

Creative Writing

Qu’est-ce que le bonheur? Je me suis réveillée deux jours après l’accident dans l’hôpital. Je
n’ai pas fêté Noël. J’avais mal à la tête et mon frère avait mal à la
Il y a beaucoup de définitions du bonheur. Beaucoup de gens jambe. Plus tard pendant cette journée, je suis allée voir ma mère
essaient d’en parler en profondeur mais je crois que c’est très dans une autre salle. Elle ne parlait parce qu’elle était déprimée. Je
simple. Le bonheur, à mon avis, est l’aptitude de vivre lui ai demandé où était, mon papa, mais elle a gardé le silence. Un
complètement au présent ; de vivre sans excuses et sans regrets, psychologue est venu m’annoncer que mon père était mort… Il y
de vivre pour soi-même et de vivre pour les gens importants dans avait du silence. Je lui ai demandé : ‘’Répétez, s’il vous plaît ?’’ Il a
sa vie. répété. J’étais triste et j’ai commencé à pleurer. Je suis allée à ma
Je suis tout à fait d’accord avec Monsieur Ibrahim qui dit qu’il sait mère et on a beaucoup pleuré ensemble. Mon frère avait deux ans,
ce qu’il y a dans son Coran ! Je crois que le bien-être spirituel est il n’a pas compris la situation.
essentiel pour être heureux. On connaît le vrai paix et bonheur Je ne pouvais pas dormir après avoir entendu cette nouvelle triste.
sachant que Dieu contrôle sa vie et que tout ce qui arrive, c’est J’ai pleuré toute la nuit. Les autres m’ont dit que la vie deviendrait
dans ses projets pour sa vie ! de nouvelle belle. Mon père était mort - non, la vie ne serait jamais
Monsieur Ibrahim dit aussi qu’il est heureux parce que Momo est belle. Je voulais rentrer à la maison. Je n’aimais ni l’hôpital ni la
là avec lui. Etre avec les gens qui sont importants dans sa vie rend nourriture.
heureux. La connaissance qu’il y a des gens qui nous aiment sans L’enterrement a eu lieu à Mafikeng où mon père est né. La famille
conditions et qui nous apprécient dans leur vie rend, sans doute, et les amis y sont venus et ils étaient aussi tristes. Jai chanté pour
heureux ! honorer mon père.
Puis, il y a la question d’argent. Je ne suis pas d’accord avec Jean- C’est vrai que, bien après ce temps triste, la vie est redevenu belle.
Baptiste. Il dit que l’argent ne fait pas le bonheur. Peut-être qu’il a Nous avons finalement accepté ce qui s’était passé. Il nous
raison, mais c’est un fait que l’argent rend meilleure la qualité de la manque encore beaucoup. C’était un bon homme.
vie; et une vie riche en qualité ajoute beaucoup au bonheur. Baile Mokate (Grade 12)
Pensez aux pauvres. Ils s’inquiètent tout le temps aux problèmes
graves : ‘’Qu’est-ce que nous allons manger ce soir ?’’ ; ‘’Qu’est-ce Souvenirs … 2
que mes petits enfants mettront cet hiver ? Il n’y a jamais assez
d’argent pour acheter des vêtements’’. Cela enlève beaucoup au Je me souviens très clairement du jour où j’ai reçu le plus beau
bonheur ! Cependant, il faut être content avec ce qu’on a et ne pas cadeau de ma vie. Ce jour-là, le soleil brillait de tous ses feux. Je me
toujours désirer d’autres choses ; mais ce n’est pas terrible préparais pour aller à l’école, quand j’ai entendu des aboiements
d’essayer de rendre la vie plus confortable ! Il ne faut que trouver provenant de chez mes voisins. Je me suis précipitée pour aller voir
le point d’équilibre. ce qui se passait. À ma grande joie, mon voisin tenait un adorable
Pour moi, l’amour rend heureux. Une vie sans amour est vide et petit chiot à la main et il m’a dit : « Voilà, je t’offre ce chiot qui est
triste. Il m’est important de trouver et de garder ; à mon avis, cela né il n’y a que six semaines ! ». Sans réfléchir, j’ai couru pour le
c’est le vrai secret du bonheur. prendre. C’était le coup de foudre pour moi ! Il avait la fourrure
Enfin, c’est à chacun de décider ce qui lui est important. Si c’est blanche et douce et ses yeux étaient bleus. Il était mon bout-de-
l’argent, trouvez-en alors ! Il faut se définir le bonheur. On sera chou. Je l’ai surnommé ‘Whitey’ et depuis ce jour-là, je m’occupe
heureux quand on aura ce qui est important pour soi, c’est sûr ! de lui comme s’il était mon petit frère! Quelle chance d’avoir un
Nkamogeleng Mahlaela (Grade 12 ) ami aussi mignon !
Deeksha Rugjee (Grade 10)
Souvenirs …1
Si …
La veille de Noël, on était très occupée avec des préparatifs pour
Noël. Nous étions contents, mais nous ne savions pas que c’était Si j’avais une boule de cristal je regarderais l’avenir et puis je dirais
le dernier jour où l’on verrait mon papa. à mes amies qu’elles devraient faire attention. Je prédirais des
Ce matin-là, nous sommes allés à Pretoria. Les routes et les coupures de courant et j’en serais la meilleure préparée de tout le
magasins étaient occupés. Nous sommes allés à l’épicerie où nous monde ! Enfin, je découvrirais la recette pour le chocolat Lindt
avons acheté de la nourriture. Nous aimions la viande donc nous mais ne vous inquiétez pas, chers fanas de chocolat - je
sommes allés à la boucherie. Nous avons acheté des cadeaux et fabriquerais du chocolat délicieux et inoubliable pour tout le
des décorations pour le sapin. En rentrant, une voiture a heurté monde !
notre voiture et mon père a été gravement blessé. Kavisha Behari (Grade 11)

140 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Viewpoint: French

Nadene Kotze Grade 10 Sibella Louw Grade 11 Liang Yu Grade 12

Si je n’avais que trois mois à vivre, je passerais le temps en tapis, je vais raconter cette histoire à mes enfants.
regardant les couchers de soleil comme le Petit Prince. Je J’ai commencé à pleurer quand le tapis a ralenti et puis j’ai vu une
demanderais pardon à tout le monde que j’avais blessé et je chose incroyablement belle: j’étais à Paris! Je pouvais voir l’Arc de
pardonnerais tout le monde qui m’avait blessée. Je regarderais Triomphe et la tour Eiffel!
encore une fois tous mes films préférés et je pleurerais un peu - Génial! ai-je crié, je suis en France!
chaque jour, si je n’avais que trois mois à vivre. Mais le tapis était impatient; il voulait voir d’autres pays, donc il
Sofi Zway (Grade 11) s’est dépêché. Je pense que je me suis endormie parce que je me
souviens d’avoir vu Londres et ses lumières, mais pas du voyage
Qu’on a fait des voyages ! entre la France et l’Angleterre!
- Je suis fatiguée, ai-je murmuré, je veux rentrer chez moi, s’il vous
Hier soir un tapis volant est arrivé à côté de mon lit. Il m’a invitée plaît.
d’aller avec lui partout dans le monde. J’ai naturellement accepté Je crois que le tapis m’a entendue. Nous sommes partis
son invitation! Je voulais toujours voyager aux pays intéressants d’Angleterre et nous sommes allés au Portugal (parce que je suis
pour faire de nouvelles expériences. portugaise et je voulais visiter mon pays) et puis en Egypte, voir
Le tapis, aux couleurs vives, a décollé de toute vitesse et j’avais les pyramides. Quand nous étions au Mozambique je savais que
peur ! Mais c’était amusant. Il a volé au-dessus de la mer et j’ai vu j’étais près de Pretoria. Je me suis réveillée quand ma mère est
des requins ! C’était magnifique. entrée dans ma chambre et m’a saisi la main.
Premièrement, on s’est posé à l’île Maurice qui était belle avec ses Bon, voilà mon histoire. Maintenant, mes enfants, vingt ans plus
plages blanches. J’ai goûté de la nourriture créole et j’ai parlé tard, on peut comprendre pourquoi j’aime tellement voyager!
beaucoup de français avec les habitants. Quand je suis revenue à la Raquel Jones (Grade 10 )
plage, le tapis était prêt à décoller !
Puis, on est allé en Australie où j’ai vu des kangourous et des En famille
aborigènes. C’était un voyage amusant parce que l’accent des
australiens était très difficile à comprendre. Nous allons à l’épicerie, à la boucherie et à la confiserie,
Le tapis se dépêchait pour aller en Chine parce qu’il voulait Nous achetons du sel, du thé et du café,
rencontrer des tapis volants chinois ! L’Orient est un lieu très Nous choisissons du poisson et du saucisson,
intéressant mais je n’ai pas aimé la nourriture chinoise. On est Nous mangeons du jambon sur du pain,
parti de Chine et on a volé en Russie. C’est le grand déjeuner avec notre mère et notre père !
La Russie a beaucoup d’habitants et beaucoup de nourriture. Nadine Basilio and Suzanne de Bruyn (Grade 9)
C’était bien mais je voulais aller à Paris pour voir la tour Eiffel !
Enfin, le tapis m’a emmenée à Paris ! Quelle belle ville ! Un mél à mon professeur de français
Finalement j’ai vu la tour Eiffel ! Puis, je suis allée à Disney Paris
où j’ai vu tous les personnages de mes films préférés. Chère Madame,
Soudainement, je me suis réveillée parce que ma mère m’appelait. Je suis sud-africaine. J’habite à Pretoria, dans le nord de l’Afrique
Tous ces voyages ? Ce n’était qu’un rêve ! du sud.
Nicole Camera (Grade 10) Ma maison est blanche. Dans ma maison il y a trois chambres, un
salon avec une télé, une cuisine, et aussi deux salles de bains.
Maman raconte : Ma chambre est bleue. Il y a un oreiller bleu et une couette blanche
sur mon lit. Mon bureau blanc est devant mon lit. Derrière mon
Un tapis volant est arrivé à côté de mon lit quand j’avais seize ans. bureau il y a une chaise blanche. Ma lampe blanche est à côté de
Très bizarre! Mais, comme j’aime beaucoup les aventures et les mon lit. Sous mon lit il y a une boite grise. Ma chambre est entre la
voyages, je me suis jetée sur le tapis qui a vite décollé. chambre de Janet, ma mère, et la chambre de Marius, mon frère.
J’avais peur parce qu’il volait haut dans le ciel et je ne savais pas Et voilà, ça c’est moi !
comment l’arrêter. Bien à vous,
- Quand je serai grande, ai-je pensé tout le temps que j’étais sur le Nina Salmon (Grade 8)

141PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

RCL Induction

RCL Induction

142 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Grade 8 Camp

Grade 8 Camp

EEC

EEC

144 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Closing On your way
to a bright future?
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June foremost research universities, requires prompt and decisive action.

for selection Get in on time!
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courses SA university offering Veterinary Science.

Applications for undergraduate academic programmes, other than those
mentioned in the paragraph above, close on 30 September of the year
preceding the year of study for South African students, and on 31 August
for international students.

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Inter-house Athletics

Inter-house Athletics

34
146 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Inter-house Gala

Inter-house Gala

147PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris

Inter-high Gala

Inter-high Gala

148 PHSG 1902-2009 • T he Iris