The Iris Magazine 2006

Volleyball

VOLLEYBALL U16

Back Row (L-R): Nazan Korkmaz, Talita Greyling, Esther Sola, Dominique Skeen,
Bronwyn Pieters, Donné Grobler, Caitlin Gandy, Jessica Meyer, Amber Burnett
Front Row (L-R): Danila Molgy, Andrea Spyron, Ms T Mtimkulu, Amy Wang,
Priya Ram

VOLLEYBALL U19C

Absent: Charlotte Mdlhetse (Coach)
Back Row (L-R): Eva Wu, Jennifer Mureithi, Nancy Kachienga
Front Row (L-R): Towela Kaumba, Palesa Mayizale, Jackie Nkhoma

VOLLEYBALL U14A

Back Row (L-R): Chrissandra Naidoo, Carmin Janse van Vuuren, Melissa Pike,
Atelma Ponelis, Cassandra Willers, Sally Odhiambo, Thumo Neluvhlani, Tanja Schmid,
Caitlin Pike, Amy Viljoen
3rd Row (L-R): Amelia Potgieter, Khutso Mrwata, Diana Mathibe, Robyn Williams,
Elsmarie Wium, Ovayo Masoko, Janet Mabasa, Genevieve Edwards, Innocentia Sebopa,
Raquel Martins, Kgoagelo Mkhonto
2nd Row (L-R): Kgomotso Mogadime, Samantha Kee, Nonkululeko Mkwanazi,
Ms C Wenhold, Lebo Mokolane, Sibongile Mahlangu, Masego Molebaloa
Front Row (L-R): Lili-Anne Blackie, Mikayla Platts, Gloria Mundim,
Gabriella Mundim

The Iris99PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Water polo

Water polo

Achievers: Gauteng U19B – Hayleigh Mackay, our hearts out and came fourth overall. The season ended with
the St Peter's Festival which carried on throughout Saturday and
Keegan Woodcock, Brittany Fenwick, Siobhan Oelofsen, Sunday, playing about five games or more each day. We played
extremely well and enjoyed it tremendously, especially having
Severn Williams; Gauteng U17A – Lize Maartens; the physios on stand by. Many thanks are due to Ms Austin and
all the other liaison teachers and especially to Claire, the first
Gauteng U17B – Jessica Blythe, Gauteng U15B – Kym team coach. Without their help and enthusiasm the year would
not have been as great as it was. To the First Team of 2006,
Smith, Kimmie Bosman; Gauteng U15A and Junior SA thank you for all the laughs and good times and the most
amazing year ever! Good luck for 2007.
Colours – Christine Roos Hayleigh Mackay
Captain
The polo term started off with a splash. All the teams were
excited and ready to start the new season. We played every
weekend loving every second of it and we won most of the
league games in the first term. At the 2006 Aquatics Festival we
were all exhausted from swimming the day before but we played

WATER POLO 1ST TEAM

Back Row (L-R): Christi-Lynn
Prost, Sheila-Ann Roos, Jessica Blythe,
Robyn Jones, Brittany Fenwick,
Aimée Crewe-Brown, Siobhan Oelofsen,
Maxine Evans, Samantha Prost
Front Row (L-R): Lize Maartens,
Ms Claire Button, Hayleigh Mackay,
Ms L Austin, Keegan Woodcock

The Iris100 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Water polo

WATER POLO 2ND TEAM WATER POLO U16A

Back Row (L-R): Liz Bolink, Joani Holt, Vicky McGaw, Elizabeth Back Row (L-R): Valerie Hopf, Janeke Hattingh, Michelle Mills,
Vorster, Diale Maepa, Catherine Deiner, Claire Batchelor, Glenda Hopf Benita Boegman, Christine Roos
Front Row (L-R): Robyn Powell, Nicole Hudson-Lamb, Ms L Austin, Front Row (L-R): Kym Smith, Janie Porteous, Kimmie Bosman,
Gwen van der Merwe, Samantha Adamson Rachel Bosman, Kate Manson

WATER POLO U16B WATER POLO U15A

Back Row (L-R): Marang Matlala, Britt Spilkin, Tammy-Lynne Niemand, Back Row (L-R): Shandré Fortuin, Zjaun Mann, Teresa Griessel,
Sarah Atkinson, Tjedza Peba Kerry Bodenstein, Shereen Kennard, Lara Helg, Samantha Steyn
Front Row (L-R): Dominique Sfreddo, Mrs M Brown, Alexia Oelofse Front Row (L-R): Lisa Grunewald, Bianca Geere, Ms K McConnell,
Sine Sigwaza, Dizelle Oberholzer

The Iris101PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Water polo

WATER POLO U15B WATER POLO U14 A & B TEAMS

Back Row (L-R): Nicola Williams, Melindi Dean, Luët Buys, Back Row (L-R): Megan Boegman, Michelle Pienaar, Daneel Lotz, Kaylee
Mary-Anne Nel, Nicola Hayes, Alexia Springer Higgins, Briony Simon, Inge-Mar Smedsrud, Stephani Ellington
Front Row (L-R): Leigh-Ann van Heerden, Gillian Vorster, Ms J Spies, Middle Row (L-R): Amber Burnett, Kelin Oelofse, Rochelle Kirstein, Mila
Lauren King, Bridget Vlag Edwards, Gabriela Malan, Marueen Grobbelaar, Kelly Blair
Front Row (L-R): Luzaan de Beer, Suné Gerber, Ms Brooks, Olivia
Middleton, Jade Janeke

The Iris102 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Cultural Highlights

Cultural Highlights

Music

Music

SENIOR CHOIR

Back Row (L-R): Marelie Theron, Linnaea Vlok, Anré van der Westhuizen, Cara Loubser, Chanel Harbour, Rosie Blersch, Rorisang Skhosana,
Nana Nunoo, Alex Jerrett, Phakama Botha, Louise Clark, Joani Holt, Dané Prinsloo, Roxanne Malan, Tamaryn Pike, Thembi Nkwali
3rd Row (L-R): Tsenolo Ntsane, Debby Nixon, Megan Kahts, Xi-Xi Li, Natalie Reid-Ross, Helen Acres, Nokwazi Zimu, Joan Kiiru, Thando Hoyana,
Ikanyeng Motlhamme, Stephanie Baek, Maggie Barnard, Sanél Marshall, Dominique Skeen, Keitu Kasenkola, Piette Cÿrus
2nd Row (L-R): Mr M Barrett, Bonita Lubbe, Tutula Nhantsi, Bianca de Klerk, Despina Marques, Siphe Ziqhu, Lauren Sackett, Refentse Masha,
Melissa van Putten, Nolwazi Njwara, Kayleigh Nienaber, Marissa Venter, Nohmi Nhantsi, Marie-Pierre Ogoula, Mokgabo Tshenkeng, Thuto Masihleho,
Kayleigh Naudé
Front Row (L-R): Francoise Goga, Kgosi Moroeng, Katherine Harding, Jodi Nagel, Rati Mogoai, Kelly Davidson, Song-Ha Choi, Carla de Oliveira,
Nicole de Klerk, Shandu Mulaudze, Karabo Seate, Lebo Mahlare, Palesa Leopeng, Jessica Mulder, Banele Lukhele, Claudia de Oliveira, Theodora Noyile

Senior Choir

The Iris104 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Music

JUNIOR CHOIR

Back Row (L-R): Catherine Humphries, Skye Pienaar, Candice Naude, Amahle Nrshinga, Bianca Galego, Abby van Niekerk, Mariellé Tappan,
Diana Mawoko, Chloé Cormack, Bridgette Tamukedde, Caitlin Pike
3rd Row (L-R): Ovayo Masoka, Genevieve Edwards, Tebogo Siwela, Sanet Magoro, Wilmaré Dippenaar, Thuli Mabizela, Mahlogonolo Masemola,
Anoek Ramathoka, Mologadi Molala
2nd Row (L-R): Amelia Potgieter, Tarryn Fisher, Atlehang Maseko, Sharon Wu, Lebogang Sebolai, Jessica Makua, Olebogeng Marolo,
Carole Godfrey, Jessica Fernandes, Cassandra Willers
Front Row (L-R): Melissa Pike, Omololu Babatunde, Tshegofatso Phele, Akhona Mafenuka, Luvo Mputa, Nothando Mudzingwa, Sofi Zway,
Sibongile Mahlangu, Mannana Tshoagong, Nicole Battison, Lauren Hudson, Mr M Barrett

The Iris105PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Music

LES FEÉS QUI CHANTENT

Back Row (L-R): Françoise Goga, Louise Clark, Alex Jerrett, Rosie Blersch, Despina Marques
Middle Row (L-R): Katherine Harding, Sanél Marshall, Tamaryn Pike, Joan Kiiru, Marelie Theron, Natalie Reid-Ross, Maggie Barnard, Jodi Nagel
Front Row (L-R): Banele Lukhele, Carla de Oliveira, Bianca de Klerk, Kayleigh Naudé, Marissa Venter, Karabo Seate, Lebo Mahlare

Les Fees qui Chante And everyone smiled during that song!
The highlight of our year was being the winners of our
“We must sing till the song puts forth roots, category (again) at the Beeld Eisteddfod. It's a wonder they
Trunk, branches, birds, stars ...” still spell our name wrong on the cup ... Congrats, ladies - we
were victorious once again! The other highlight was our
Octavio Paz (from Cloudburst) performance at the Choir Tea - but only because the hunky
Colin Moss was there!
As is always the case, being in a small group of highly We collaborated with the Senior Choir, Rhythmony and the
passionate individuals, led by an extremely talented and Orchestra to create a wonderful mass finale at both the
passionate conductor, it creates lasting, monumental PHSG Gala Concert and the Four Schools performances -
memories. and we all made wonderful nuns who should have been in
Les Feés began the year with a shaky performance at the Sister Act, not so? Where was Whoopie when we needed
New Grade 8 Information Evening - after two rehearsals! her? (No - our own Mrs van der Sandt did a great Whoopie
But, as we grew as a group and as individuals, our sound, Goldberg impersonation.)
style and confidence became more and more noticeable. In every performance - even the impromptu ones, the girls
Our repertoire included a beautiful lullaby by Billy Joel all personified style, class, talent and the necessity for us all
which caused mums and daughters alike to shed a nostalgic to “sing till the song puts forth roots, trunk, branches, birds,
tear or two (well, my mum and I did ...); a groovy, hippie- stars ...”
style Simon and Garfunkel piece - 59th Street Bridge Song May Les Feés qui Chanté only continue to grow in such
- made all the more experienced and expressive audience leaps and bounds as this year has proved possible. And, I'm
members sway in their seats every time; and of course sure, under the esteemed guidance of Mrs van der Sandt
the unforgettable and slightly ... embarrassing and weird and the new head, Lebo Mahlare, Les Feés will reach great
Old MacDonald's Farm ... It was truly a memorable heights. Thank you for a wonderful year - I will always
experience to hear several distinguished alto two's making remain a faithful friend and a loyal supporter!
grunting pig noises, and a certain matric soprano who was Kayleigh Naudé Grade 12
rather skilful as a cat. At least we pulled it off, girls.

The Iris106 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Music

ORCHESTRA

Back Row (L-R): Melanie Rutten, Nomhi Nhantsi, Nicole Liebenberg, Megan Boegman, Mae du Toit, Kirstin de Beer, Josephine Hamman,

Rorisang Skhosana, Jess Cameron, Abby van Niekerk, Gabriela Malan, Claire Batchelor, Dominique Robertson, Claudia de Oliveira,

Hannahmaree Fobian
Middle Row (L-R): Sheree Leong, Cleo Floudiotis, Thato Mampane, Nicole Godfrey, Reshoketswe Maleka, Tarryn Hertzikowitz,

Samantha Ferreira, Alex Jerret, Catherine Anthony, Shannu-Leigh Davidson, Joanie van der Heever, Nicole Stafford, Clementine Milton, Lauren

Brooks, Kelly Blair

Front Row (L-R): Kgosigadi Moroeng, Carla de Oliveira, Mpho Khwinana, Mrs V Hohls, Filipa Bandeira, Mrs van Wyk, Winona Kelly,

Megan Kahts, Lebo Mahlare girls high the irisThestringandwoodwindensembles,whohavemanagedto

Orchestra
We had a great start to 2006 as the orchestra almost uphold their status as two groups of elite ensemblists, have

doubled in size. We were privileged enough to welcome yet performed at various functions. They also provided

another conductor, Mrs van Wyk, who is also in charge of interlude entertainment at the Four Schools' Concert.

the Woodwind Ensemble. With the combined skill of Mrs The Gala Concert was presented with aplomb in the third

van Wyk, Mrs Hohls and the members, the orchestra now term. It was an overwhelming end, for the matrics to

produces a fuller more professional sound. another fruitful year.

The enlargement of the percussion section, including a The joint effort at the Four Schools' Concert, which our

new, attractive, purple drum set, has enabled performances school hosted at Pretoria Boys' High, not only produced

of a repertoire of vast character and a wide range. The strange, beautiful sounds but managed to awe the audience

high standard of our conductors and instrumentalists has as in every year. It was enough to send shivers down

awarded the orchestra the opportunity to perform at anyone's spine.

various concerts and the Beeld Eisteddfod, where we The dedication of both the girls and the conductors

obtained an A and B+. An invitation to St John's concert, exposed talent of the highest quality. When words failed

in celebration of the art of music, led us to Johannesburg our music always stood out and spoke.

and a performance that amazed an audience. Mpho Khwinana Grade 12

The Iris107PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Music

WOODWIND ENSEMBLE
Back Row (L-R): Abby van Niekerk, Megan Boegman, Alexandra Jerrett, Tammy-Lynn Niemand, Clementine Milton
Front Row (L-R): Kirsten de Beer, Mrs van Wyk, Lebo Mahlare

STRING ENSEMBLE
Back Row (L-R): Jess Cameron, Josephine Hamman, Rorisang Skhosana, Claire Batchelor, Dominique Robertson
Front Row (L-R): Kgosigadi Moroeng, Mpho Khwinana, Mrs V Hohls, Filipa Bandeira, Winona Kelly

The Iris108 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Music

UNIVERSITY OF PRETORIA SIMFONIA JUVENTI
YOUTH CHOIR Back Row (L-R): Jess Cameron, Kirstin de Beer
Back Row (L-R): Jodi Nagel, Melissa Venter Front Row (L-R): Josephine Hamman, Filipa Bandeira,
Front Row (L-R): Rosie Blersch, Kayleigh Naude Kgosigadi Moroeng

The Iris109PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Clubs and Societies

Clubs and Societies

HEADS OF CLUBS AND SOCIETIES

Back Row (L-R): Boipelo Baloyi, Severn Williams, Amy Harris, Nana Nunoo, Melissa Fischer, Kayleigh Naudé, Deney van Rooyen
Middle Row (L-R): Debby Nixon, Cassandra Pringle, Jodi Mallinson, Puseletso Tau, Melinda Nel, Mmapitso Maropa,
Françoise Goga,Gerda Tshimbombo, Mpho Khwinana
Front Row (L-R): Itumeleng Kgafela, Thato Maletswa, Sarah Teixeira, Mrs D McCusker, Vinolia Mothoa, Zama Kumbaca,
Laura du Plessis

The Iris110 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Clubs and Societies

girls high the iris

The Iris111PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Clubs and Societies

girls high the iris

DEBATING

Absent: Mandisa Mbele, Sivan Zeffert
Back Row (L-R): Claire Williams, Devi PIllay, Zizi Dlamini, Phakama Botha,
Nikita Zietsman, Tammy-Lynne Niemand, Nolwazi Mjwara
Middle Row (L-R): Mashadi Mogase, Itu Molebatsi, Humayra Garda,
Esther Echelu, Barbara-Anne van Wyk, Mpho Mabule, Monique Anthony,
Tumi Ramafoko
Front Row (L-R): Cleo Floudiotis, Zoë Neocosmos, Katherine Harding,
Mrs J Cÿrus, Debbie Nixon, Yelena Mohamed, Chloe Rushovich

The Iris112 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Clubs and Societies

FIRST AID

Back Row (L-R): Valerie Hopf, Funge Mulaudzi, Aline Mwambakana, Nikita Zietsman,
Joyce Lubuma
4th Row (L-R): Helena Pitirayi, Ralie Seymore, Chanelle Harbour, Megan Heath,
Mmapitso Moropa, Tshego Swahledi
3rd Row (L-R): Mokgabo Tshenkeng, Nolo Tjale, Sinazo Tshayana, Shereen Kennard,
Keletso Modise, Tebogo Monare, Didi Megashane, Sheryll Mwaka
2nd Row (L-R): Thando Makhalina, Caitlin Browne, Anne Lin, Nicole de Klerk,
Marissa Venter, Eva Wu, Nicola Williams
Front Row (L-R): Alsa Abraham, Sinethemba Noyile, Thato Maletswa, Ms J Jardim,
Tshenolo Bodibe, Tintswalo Kubhaka, Rufaro Rusike

Library

LIBRARY MONITORS

Back Row (L-R): Londiwe Mahlangu, Rorisang Skhosana, Nana Nunoo,
Lauri-Ann Jacobus, Nkamo Mahlaela
Middle Row (L-R): Banele Lukhele, Johanna Mojela, Zama Kumbaca, Tumi
Sereme, Lethabo Shakwane, Mokgabo Tshenkeng, Beaulah Stevens, Mbali Yende,
Athena Maliakel
Front Row (L-R): Omphile Sefolo, Bianca Steyn, Noxolo Hlope, Mrs Muller,

girlsJoanKiiru,PalesaRammegi,RufaroRusike
The Iris113PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Clubs and Societies

Clubs and Societies

STUDENTS' CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION COMMITTEE

Back Row (L-R): Claire Brown, Gwen Barnes, Chanelle Harbour, Ali Erasmus,
Claire Gritten, Janice de Wet, Robyn Veary
Front Row (L-R): Kholofelo Letsoalo, Taheera April, Mrs S Harbour,
Deney van Rooyen, Boitumelo Mahuma

The Iris115PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Clubs and Societies

The Iris116 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint

CreatEivengWlirshiting

April Fool's Day reached out and slapped her hard across her face.
I suppose I might have been hoping I could knock whatever
Do you believe in ghosts? I didn't. At least not until that was in her out of her. She put her hand to her face on the spot
night. It was the 1st of April – April Fool's. It was a Saturday where I hit her, as if it still stung, and gasped. “You nasty little
and I was walking to my friend, Linda's house for a party she creature!” she hissed at me. She went over to the mirror on
was planning because her parents had gone away for the the dresser and I nearly fainted at what I saw. Out of the
weekend. mirror looking at me, was not my best friend Linda, but old
When I got to her house I rang the bell as always. I heard Mrs Hoober. My legs had never carried me so fast.
footsteps approaching the door and someone fumbling with At school on Monday Linda was absent and her
the lock, as only a stranger would. When the door finally disappearance was on the news. It broke my heart that my
opened Tracy and Kim were standing there looking upset. I best friend had gone missing but I just could not bring myself
asked them what was wrong and Tracy, quite hysterically, to tell anyone what had happened. They'd all think I'd gone
replied, “It's Linda! She's gone mad! She is walking around mad! Two weeks after her disappearance, Linda's body was
like she has a hunchback and keeps telling us to get out of her found hanging from a tree outside her house.
house!” I wasn't very impressed because last year on April Now, a little less than a year later, I'm afraid. For you see, after
Fools we all pranked Linda and pretended that I committed what happened to Linda. I was so scared that I researched the
suicide. It was very well done, there was a suicide letter and history of my house and the deaths that had happened here
everything. It looked as though it was my turn this year. were twice as horrific. And tomorrow, it's April Fool's Day
“Okay,” I began. “Take me to her.” They led me to Linda's Roxanne Mostert Grade 8
parents' bedroom and looked afraid. “Don't go in there,
Emma! What if she hurts you!” I laughed and said I'd take my Spiders on a ship
chances. I opened the door and there, next to the bed, stood
Linda with a very convincing lump on her back. It all started with a telephone call from my cousin, Reptilius
I remember briefly wondering if it was a pillow or a folded Arachnidus.
towel before she spoke. “Out!” she shrieked. “Get out of my “Hello, is this Hoender? Hoender van den Eier?” Reptilius
house! You are befouling it! And you've moved everything asked.
and put in all this modern garbage! What would my poor “No, this is Mac Woodfleet, I'll just get Hoender on the
Henry say if he saw what you've done!” She glanced nervously phone, just a second.”
at the dresser and gave an angry shriek, “You've gone and When I answered the phone, I was quite delighted to hear my
moved his picture too!” I have to admit, I though that Linda cousin's voice. I haven't seen him since last September when
was putting on a very convincing act. I laughed openly and he went searching for flying unicorn-lobsters in Madagascar
said, “Very funny, Lins. But the jokes are over, okay? April with his friend, Frosch de Croak. I kept on telling him that
fools, you got me. Now let's go set up for the party.” I looked they don't exist, but he insisted on going.
up at her, expecting her to start laughing and say the game was “Hoender! Am I glad to talk to you again! I didn't find the
up. I was not prepared for her to reach for some of the many flying unicorn-lobsters, but I called to ask you if you want to
pillows on the bed and start hurling them at me at an alarming come with me to the Caribbean. I'm going by boat. I'm
speed. “How many times do I have to tell you bratty kids? looking for the Loch Ness Monster. That Max-what's-his
My name is not Lins, Linda or Linda! It's Mrs Hoober to you name can come too!” He sounded very excited.
ungrateful little worms! NOW GET OUT!!” she bellowed. “Isn't the Loch Ness Monster near Scotland or something?” I
After she said this, I couldn't move, I just stood there in shock. said, before considering the fact that it's no use. Once he
Mrs Hoober had been the lovely old lady who lived there wants to search for something, there's no stopping him. “Ok,
before Linda moved in. She had hanged herself two months I think we'll come.”
after her husband, Henry Hoober whom she lived for, had
died of a massive stroke. This wouldn't have bothered me *****
had Linda known about this, but the fact of the matter was
that it was very hushed up, so she didn't. And truth be told, it While I was carrying my bags onto the ship, I noticed a few
scared the hell out of me. I started for the door, but I wasn't strange-looking packages outside Reptilius' cabin. He came
fast enough. She grabbed me around my shoulders and out and saw me looking at it.
started shaking me. I don't know what made me do it but I
The Iris117PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint English

Itumeleng Kgafela Grade 12 Forbidden love

“Oh, and these are my pets. I never go anywhere without It was a pitch black, windy night and leaning against her
them.” he said. balcony stood a slender dark-skinned beauty. Above the
After dinner that evening, I went into my cabin to go to bed. howling wind her gentle voice could be heard: “The piano
When I finished reading a few pages of The Unexpurgated keys are black and white, but they sound like a million colours
Code, I was too tired to read any further, but when I put the in your mind …” she sang. “Why can't our nation be like a
book down on the bedside table, I saw something dreadful. million colours?” she said softly.
“Eeeek! A tarantula!” I screamed and ran out of my cabin to Far in the distance she could hear a horse galloping across the
tell Mac. He didn't seem to care much about the frightful fields of their large estate. She knew this was her love, her
incident at all, so I ran to tell Reptilius, but all he said was: forbidden love, on his way to see her. Why could her father
“Is it Monty, Ricky, Victor or George?” not accept this man? He was a decent, caring and respectful
“What? You know about them?” man and most importantly, he loved her. They did, however,
“Of course, they're my pets. I told you a while ago.” come from vastly different backgrounds. She was Thandie
I never bothered to look what was in those cages. I should Khumalo, the only daughter of successful businessman,
have. Alfred Khumalo. He was Johan du Toit, the eldest son of a
The ship tilted a bit as a wave hit it and I fell over. I got up by cattle farmer.
holding on to the railing and felt I held on to the spider web. The sound came nearer and nearer until finally it came to a
I ran like the wind back to my cabin. Oh no! The spider is halt, right next to her house.
not gone yet! “Thandie, my darling, are you there?” Johan's coarse voice
I stood in silent horror, not knowing what to do… sounded.
And then I woke up and it was all a dream. I looked sideways Thandie, looking down from her balcony replied sweetly,
at the wall in my room and saw the most terrifying sight ever. “Yes, as always, I am waiting only for you.”
It was huge. Enormous. Gigantic. Almost the size of the “Tomorrow is the day that we will run away! We can finally be
average half of an average eraser. together. If I am not back before sunrise then I will be here at
An eight-legged thing stared at me with its eight eyes. midnight, but be assured that I will come.”
When I looked up I saw another dreadful sight. There was a “I will be ready. Go now and goodnight,” she said. Off into
three-headed snake glaring maliciously at me with its six the moonlight he galloped. So the two lovers parted greatly
eyes. content and eager finally to be together. They did not know,
The two slimy things closed in on me, laughing a very sinister however, that lurking in the bushes lay the cunning Thabo
laugh: “Mwuhuhohohahahaaa!” Sithole. He was in love with Thandie and already an evil plan
Sibella Louw Grade 8 began to form in his mind.
Thandie waited the whole of the next day, but to no avail. At
The Iris118 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS noon she watched the hills, beautifully silhouetted against the
sunset, waiting.
Suddenly she let out a piercing scream as she felt two huge
hands grab her from behind. She turned to find herself
looking into the cold eyes of Thabo Sithole. He overpowered
her and quickly tied her to the frame of her bed. Her panic-
stricken eyes saw him finger a gun. She thought he was going
to kill her.
As if he had read her mind, he said, “Don't worry, I won't
harm you. Although, I can't say the same about your lover
boy! Ha ha ha!” His evil laugh boomed across the room.
Thabo carefully placed the gun against her breast so that it
faced up towards her. As soon as he left the room, Thandie
started wriggling furiously. She continued without fail until
the clock struck twelve. She had finally managed to free one
finger, and it just triggered off the pistol. At that moment, she
once again heard the sound of the galloping horse. That was
when she gave her life for her love. The sound of the bullet
shot through the sky. Johan heard this and stopped in his
tracks. He thought it was Thandie's father who was trying to
scare him off. Discouraged he headed back home.
It was not until the next day that he heard the news of
Thandie's death. Driven by revenge, he raced back to the
estate. Thabo Sithole was awaiting his arrival and killed him
with one shot. So the two lovers were joined once again, only
this time, in a better place. The tragic tale of forbidden love is
told to this day. Some say, when it is a pitch black, windy night
their ghosts roam the estate. Finally together. Finally
content.
Megan Boegman Grade 8

Viewpoint English

To love a Bank Robber Tornado

As darkness fell and the first stars appeared, Adam He is an

girls high the irisThomas,themostwantedbankrobberintheentireworld, angry, rampaging
soldier; seeking war in
parked his Aston Martin in a deserted alley in a Sandton the countryside. His uniform is an ugly colour. He
suburb. He crept stealthily past the houses and eventually is clumsy yet very fast. He furiously thrusts away
reached his destination.
The house was large and lavish. He mounted the fence anything that crosses his path with his mighty arms.

with apparent ease and walked up to the silent house. He Triumphantly, he leaves behind a trail of war-torn destruction.

stopped under a balcony and began to whistle a tune. The Meryam Alkayyali Grade 8

porch light flicked on and Thandi Sugu slipped out of the

house. Thandi had mahogany-coloured skin and almond

You are always with meshaped eyes. The two lovers embraced passionately.

Then Adam began to speak in an earnest tone. “I will be You're in everything I do or say,

robbing tonight. If the plan is successful, I will fetch you The hot cup of coffee that gets me going for the day.

in the morning. If I don't come, we will go by moonlight, You're my one and only super hero who’s always there to

so nobody will see us.” rescue me,

Sipho listened intently. Did he hear voices? Yes, there You save me from the fall I'm taking, you come and set me free.

were the voices! He crept out of his bed and opened the When things get too tough and I just can't cope,

door of his room in the garden shed. There was Thandi, You're my sun that shines bright to always give me hope.

his love, talking and embracing another man. Sipho

suddenly recognised the man. It was that bank robber! You're the thought in my head that makes me smile,

There was only one thing that Sipho could do. He had to You make everything about my day all worthwhile.

call the SAPS. He had to save Thandi. Eventually Adam You're the fire in my soul that sets my heart ablaze,

left Thandi. After a tearful goodbye, he set off to his car. Every time I speak to you, you never cease to amaze.

He started the engine and rode off, his fate unknown. And when I look up to the sky at night,

The next morning, Thandi waited earnestly for Adam. I see you smiling down and telling me that I've done all right.

The hours felt like years. Eventually she gave up and

dozed off on her bed, overlooking the street. A As I walk in the street, I see you in many different things,

commotion downstairs woke Thandi. After things I see you in the trees that are blowing, blowing in the wind.

became quiet, some policemen barged into her room. I hear you in the birds that are singing their sweet little tune,

They said nothing to her, just stationed themselves in her And through them you remind me that we will meet

room. It took Thandi a few minutes to work out their plan very soon.

– an ambush for Adam!

After what felt like days, Thandi had devised a plan. Then, I could go on forever but that would take too long,

out of the corner of her eye, she saw him coming. She ran I could even, if I wanted to, turn this poem into a song.

to her dresser, took out her “emergency” pistol and shot All these things are clear to see

herself. Thandi Sugu was dead. But there's one more thing that's important to me.

Adam heard the shot and ran like a startled deer. He This one thing is all that matters in the end,

jumped into his Aston Martin and drove off at an You were the one I prayed for, you're my very best friend.

incredible speed. After driving for some time, the fear Ruthanne Harbour Grade 8

ebbed away and he pulled up outside a posh motel. After

getting his room key and having a drink he switched the Away, Away
here I go it's just another day.
Let's Pray for SAtelevision on to SABC news. “Breaking News: ThandiToday come let's pray for SA,
What's happening to this world?
Sugu, heiress, shoots herself. The SAPS are investigating Come on just pray for today
this death. We cross over now to Caroline Riegaard who one life, one heart, one soul.
…” Adam felt like someone had hit him over the head Over the realms the spirits fly
with an anvil. He wanted revenge! He ran to his car and Yes, it's time to say goodbye.
sped off, into the pitch-black night. Humble cries come out and say
Adam sprinted down the street to Thandi's house. He Yes, Yes here today
jumped over the fence and ran across the garden. As he We've got power, we've got the right
was running, an SAPS policeman took a lucky shot. so come on SA stand up and fight.
Adam heard the shot, felt the shot and then everything Don't let fear conquer our hearts
went black. so take hands and let's stand
This story was eventually pieced together and made the for we are a nation, a nation of colour
whole world stand still. It has become a myth and a we will fight day and night.
legend. It is said, that if you pass the Sugu's mansion justTo rid this evil in our hearts
before midnight, you might just glimpse the two ghosts of until one day it finally departs,
Adam and Thandi replaying that first embrace.
Unfortunately, Sipho lived his guilty life, a lonely life, all
because he lost his love, Thandi Sugu.

girlsShelley-AnnNowosenetzGrade8
The road ahead is paved with gold

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all and above life will unfold,
trust the light and guidance within
and you'll be sure to settle in.
Heed the inner voice inside
because we South Africans don't need to hide.
Today, tomorrow, together
friends forever, enemies never.
Stephanie Sing Grade 8

We have cats the way most people have mice

I woke up, chucked five cats off my bed and trudged gloomily

into the kitchen. Since most of the food in our house is actually

cat food, I searched for about ten minutes before I found

something made for humans. Then, as every chair in the house

was taken by a feline, I proceeded outside to eat it. My Aunt

Grace is an absolute cat freak, and being an orphan, I grew up in

her home surrounded by them.

We have cats the way most people have mice. In fact, it's

probably worse than that since Aunt Grace invites the cats in.

Believe it or not, I'm actually named after my aunt's first cat,

Ginger, who died before I was born. Her picture is right next to

mine on the mantelpiece followed by a million pictures of other

cats and a few of family. Though it is a bit annoying growing up

in a home where your pets are treated like your siblings, Aunt

Grace is wonderful and kind. She's one of my favourite people.

Aunt Grace was awake by the time I came back inside. “Good

morning, Ginger darling!” she said. She swooped down on me

and gave me a huge hug.

“Great,” I thought. Once again, I'm full of cat hair. Sometimes

I wonder if Aunt Grace would prefer to be a cat. Most of the

time she is covered in cat hair that you would think she was one Photo: Claire Gritten Grade 11

if it wasn't for her giant glasses and squeaky voice. She even

looks a bit like one.

For every year of my life my birthday presents have been cats. “Ginger, come and meet Marmite!” Aunt Grace then calls

Thank you, Aunt Grace,” I say each year, trying to look from somewhere inside the living room.

grateful. I never actually pay much attention to the cats she “Yes, of course Aunt Grace,” I sigh, and drag myself

gives me, though. What I really want is a dog. But Aunt Grace forward, trying to be enthusiastic about another 'adorable

would never, ever submit to me having one. I can imagine the kitty'.

horror on her face if I asked for one. Carole Godfrey Grade 8

“But what about Molly and Kylie and Tom …” a long list of

These are a few of my favourite thingsevery cat we own would follow, and I would just end up feeling

bad for making her so nervous. I battle to comprehend how in

the world she keeps track of their names. I never seem to be “Good morning, Mrs Reese! How are you feeling today?”

able to remember the names of any of them. I just call them This is how the conversation starts every time I visit the

“blasted furballs” when Aunt Grace isn't around. Practically patients in my gran's old age home. It always ends in the

same way too, with them politely thanking me for the short
visit. The look on their faces as they say this sends these
warm feelings through my body that give me a natural high.
In the movie Mary Poppins, she describes her favourite things
as being “Raindrops and Roses…” Personally, I love the
sound of people chatting away in a restaurant or the smell of
freshly-baked croissants. Eating ice-cream with my cousins
on a cold day is our tradition and we stick to it religiously.
I could sit curled up in a blanket watching soppy movies all
weekend. Everyday when the last bell of the day rings, I get
so excited, even if I have to go straight home and do my
homework.
The indescribable feeling of achievement sends shock waves
through my body. The satisfaction of helping someone is
priceless, because it takes something so small to make a
person smile. I love it when my mom tears open my report.
every week she brings home a new one with a hopelessly
besotted look on her face. “Look Ginger, isn't it wonderful?”
she gushes.
“Lovely, Aunt Grace.” I say vaguely.
Then I just get back to whatever homework I've been doing,
and shove whatever annoying cat has jumped on my lap, off
again. Then there're the funerals. Whenever a cat dies, I have to
attend a long, weepy funeral in the back yard, with every cat
present. Aunt Grace reads a long and touching list of all the
wonderful achievements of her irreplaceable kitty and all its
wonderful qualities. Then she goes inside, I make her a cup of
tea and she cries for two hours. Sooner or later another cat dies
and I just endure the process again. It's not that I don't like cats.
I'm sure I would adore them if we just had one or two. But in
the end, it's hard not to feel resentful when you have cats like
most people have mice.

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s As her eyes scan the page, a smile slowly appears on her face Society
and she congratulates me on my good results.
The smell of rain is so refreshing, especially if it is long- “It is because of society.”
awaited. When my friends do little things for me, or just “It is due to the pressures of society.”
seeing their faces every morning makes me smile. Everyday “Society is to blame.”
at break, I come around the corner from the lockers to sit
with my friends. Ramona waves from the spot where she is What is to blame for our psychological mishaps as humans?
sitting (every single day). I look forward to that wave each Society of course. Who is at fault for transforming the world as
and every break. we know it? Well, society it is. But is it really?
I think, above all, my most favourite thing is the big hug my As human beings, denial is programmed into our systems from
mom gives me each morning as I wake up. I like to think of the moment we take that imperative gasp of impure air.
it as my vitamin for the day, because it gives me so much Perhaps it started at age three, when, having done wrong, we
energy. All of my favourite things are small and priceless, promptly begin to blame the cat, Scott. Or maybe it began at
but without them, life would be unbearable. After all, the age six. You break a window and whilst profusely sweating,
ultimate key to happiness, is to recognise small things which deny the charges on all counts and resort to implicating the
are of great worth. baby who is four and a half months old. Whenever it began, it
Melina Meletakos Grade 9 planted a seed which grew into a weed which proved invincible
…
African Roots During later years, we stop slandering Scott and the baby's
name and slowly crawl towards other excuses. Throughout the
Africa, AFRIKA! adolescent years, the favourable excuses include peer pressure,
Home of my ancestors, land of the free! The land in which stress and boredom. Then, along the journey to adulthood, the
my ancestors made their footprints, millions of years ago. unanimously popular choice: society.
The footprints which will never be erased. I follow these Society. Who is she? Or perhaps he is of masculine origin.
footprints for African life is a life worth living, rich in spirit, Either way, why is it the one to blame for countless life
earth-bound, humble and content. It's in rejoicing for the problems? Society is our victim and we, the bully. We
little we may have, the little we may get and be willing to give continuously harass and torment it, blaming it for all that
the little we possess to the less fortunate, with joy. We are happens. It is nothing but a fragment of life, near death in its
powerful in our own right. We have dignity and hold our fragile state. It is neither black nor white, male nor female,
heads up high with pride. Even after years of struggle, young nor old. Yet our discriminatory programming works
slavery and injustice, we say “Go lokile, Go lokile.” It is all effortlessly at labelling the victim.
right. The sun is asleep now, but the stars will watch over us It is our ruthlessness that drives society to rebel; our stringent
until the sun's rays kiss our brown skins once more. nature that propels it away from us. Few attempt to reach
Go lokile. society and labour to understand its qualms and hardships, only
My name is Reabetswe, “We have been given”. I felt my failing with fine distinction…
mother's pain, joined by my umbilical cord, and I am proud Those who ask themselves, “Who really is to blame for all these
to be her reward. My blood is a stream, rich with my African hardships? For drugs, alcoholic problems, the spread of
history; history I have to carry and pass on so that our HIV/AIDS, anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, obesity and
customs will not die and so that the Africans will not be underdevelopment of children's cerebrums?” The answer for
imprisoned like in the past so that we can live on in the ever them will not be a resounding “society!” But a penetrating,” We
changing world we live in. For this reason, my roots are deep are the ones to blame …”
and strong in the soil and I will not fall for I stand tall. Thato Mabudusha Grade 9
My grandmother once took me for a walk. We went up the
mountains as she explained how it used to be. “The trees My family first thing in the morning
and grass were tall and luscious and green. The children
played happily and the fathers came straight home to their I am definitely not one of those morning people. I cannot and
wives.” She told me that alcohol has shattered this world will not spring out of bed with a smile on my face, shiny-eyed
and our fathers now come home with bruises and scars, and tidy haired. I am no Jack-in-a-box. I may be walking
reeking of alcohol. Our children take drugs and steal from (slowly) and my eyes may be open (barely) but do not be fooled,
the helpless, elderly people who helped raise them. I told I am not awake!
her that Africans had lost their pride and she said NO. They My strange and rather demented mother wakes up at four
lost Hope. Life sucked away every single thing out of them o'clock every morning. She doesn't own an alarm clock. It's
and they were left with hope, but even that has been lost. just creepy! She bounces out of bed ready to face the world and
She told me to carry on with my education and study hard so the washing machine and the breakfast and her work and
that I can contribute to restoring their wealth and pride, and feeding the cats and making my lunch …
assuring my future. She does more in two hours than what I do in an entire day, yet
Africa may be bruised and my roots may be weakened but as for her, that's the easy part.
the sun sets, it will always rise again. I will follow the In between all of these mundane tasks, she puts on a brave face
footprints and live my life the African way. And I may and marches into my bedroom.
stumble and hurt but it's OK. “Sarah, out of bed, wake up!”
Go lokile. “Mmph…,” I say.
Reabetswe Thipe Grade 9 “Vertical!” she says.
I sit up in bed with a birds nest of hair, puffy eyes and all. I look

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as if I have been hit by a train and I am suffering from severe either the meaning or the hilarity within these simple sentences.
concussion. Happy even to have received a response from me, However, I can give you some guidelines as to what common
mother-dearest walks out the door. I think, as I slump back South African words mean. If you were to hear the sentence:
down into the depths of pillows. “Jis like, if you don't voertsek off my property right now I'm
“The battle is not yet won, mother-dearest.” going to donder you!”, I would run away pretty sharp and put
Several minutes of blissful dreaming later, another war is as much distance between myself and the Boereman who said
waged. that as possible. “Would you like some chutney and all and
“Aha, this time she hath broughteth reinforcements!” all?” probably means that you're about to be served a hot
I lie in my world of warmth, soft pillows and blankets building Indian dish, “Eish merrem! Are you serious?” exhibits
the walls of my cocoon and I think, “Now how will bringing disbelief, and if you were telling someone a story and he said:
my stepdad make me get out of bed?” “Is dit?”, you're expected to reply” “Ja, dit is!”.
That's when I feel my duvet drifting away, exposing my pyjama- It's hard not be fond of your country when you're a South
clad body to the biting cold; my chest, stomach, arms, legs and African and when people ask me if I wish I'd been born in
finally, “No, not the toes! Anything but cold toes!” another country like America I reply: “Eish, never! I wouldn't
I hop out of bed and leap about like a hopping, leaping thing want to miss out on all the fun!”
and I hear my mom cackle and grin in the light of victory. Her Catherine Rogers Grade 10
daughter is out of bed. She leaves the room gleaming,
grinning, giggling. It just goes to show how little she knows Happy Hour Roselin
about me. I walk to the other side of my room, bend over and
pick up my little bundle of a duvet and promptly climb back My shift was from seven o'clock in the evening to three o'clock
into bed. in the morning. Only one part of that entire shift was
No wonder I'm now at boarding school. interesting: happy hour. Oh yes, from eleven till midnight the
Sarah Atkinson Grade 10 boys would get mighty friendly and mighty cheeky.
I am a thirty-year-old barmaid from Basingstoke, just outside
You know you're in South Africa when … of London. When the harshest blistering winds come, there is
no other place to be but The Crow Bar. I gently pushed open
You know you're in South Africa when all it takes is to drive the door and allowed the cold flakes of snow in with me.
down the road, see a taxi and already be irritated. Eish! Most Benny was sitting in his corner; his arms were folded and rested
normal people know that to attract a pedestrian's attention - right under his chin and just above his belly. Good old Benny.
you need only hoot once – or maybe twice – if they didn't Not many of the blokes get too rough but when they do Benny
initially hear you. The taxi drivers don't seem to think along the sorts them out. It was so peaceful in the bar – only the ticking
same wavelengths, let alone the same language as we do. The of that demonic cat clock broke the silence, for now anyway.
only reason I can fathom for all the horn honking is that they've “Rosie! A pint for me and each one of me lads! I cackled like a
come up with their own type of Morse code. Two long toots witch and got to the beer tap. I had been working in The Crow
and one short sharp toot means something along the lines of: Bar since I was eighteen and had mastered all the techniques:
“Anyone for a ride?”, while three little beeps mean: “Are you pouring, sliding, mixing. You name it and I can do it.
sure?”, and when still no pedestrians answer and one long loud It was already a quarter past ten and the bar had a comfortable
honk means, “Serious?”. Honestly, this complete insanity can
only be compared to a gaggle of geese that have just realised irisbuzz. The rich, dark wood was enticing; the burgundy velvet
Farmer Brown is going to cook them all for dinner.
Another way for you to know that you're on South African soil embossed carpet was well worn out and speckled with stains.
Between pouring drinks I looked at Benny; he always kept a
girls high theis if you toddle off to the bank on a normal day to draw some watchful eye on me. “Oi, Rosie! Give us another drink love!” I
looked at him with caution in my eyes.
money (to be used for an article of no importance) and there's a “You've had enough,” I said. He swung his arm around my
bank heist. There you are, minding your own business when neck and pulled me closer; I pulled away but his drunken grip
suddenly all have their hands up and their faces on the floor. If was strong. I slapped his cheek hard - the rings I wore could be
you're lucky, the robbers will yell a lot, shoot a few bullets into seen. I shook and ripped away and my excessive jewellery
the roof, grab the money and go; if not, you'll probably end up chimed.
cellphoneless, and whatever money you had before will no “Benny!” I cried. Benny rose to the floor like a magnificent
longer exist and if you were unfortunate enough to be wearing bison in charge. His mighty fist graced the unruly customer's
the set of diamond earrings that daddy gave you last Christmas, face.
those will be gone too. “There you go, Rosie.”
Then there's the guy who pitches up at the Porsche dealership I smiled, my large red lips kissed his cheek, “Thanks, Benny
to splash out on the latest model and he's no sooner driving out love, you're always there for me.” I wasn't unsettled, this sort of
the exit when two bakkies pull-up on either side of him, force thing happens all the time and I can hold my own. After all, it is
him off the road and relieve him of his Porsche. In South just happy hour at The Crow Bar.
African language one would say that this man has just been Nena Maree Grade 10
seriously, seriously hijacked.
And what about the 'diverse' language that we speak? As a Swirls of Colour
proudly South African person my average greeting would be
something along the lines of: “Howzit my China? Are you A girl makes her way to her desk at home. She must start her
having a lekker day? Eish, I am having such a nice day!” homework. She has put it off for too long; a pang of guilt
No person who is not South African could possibly understand stings her in her stomach. Even now her colourful world is

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beginning to fade. She must do something to bring it back. As Victoria Isherwood Grade 10
her pen touches her paper, she procrastinates. Poetry is
pouring out of her soul, colouring her world again. “Alright!” Shouted Griffin with harsh irritation. He shoved his
While she is delving into the world of her imagination, head outside the tent; the grubby exterior was a depressing
colourful streaks come out line by line, page by page. She sight. Steady steps moved him forward. “You took your time,
thinks about her homework but she cannot bring herself to do eh?” mocked Tusker. Griffin gave a pathetic grunt and crashed
it. She has started something. It just cannot be left alone. The back down into the powdery sand. “Give us The Needle then,”
spaces on her page get to her. She has to fill them up. More said Griffin, his voice drained and stretched out thin, raspy and
words come tumbling out to fill every gap. raw. Tusker reached back to grab a sickly looking metal box.
New thoughts cross her mind. Pictures are what she needs. He thrust it towards his comrade. Griffin licked his cracked
Twirls and squiggles. Anything that will venture out of her lips, then his thumbs and finally opened the dilapidated
creativity. Meaningless shapes take form around her words. container. The box screamed in agony as the lid slowly rose.
She cannot control it. It is as if her page is creating itself. She is This was a disturbing sound to Griffin; a haunting noise that
the tool while the pictures and words control her. They come echoed in the corners of his mind when he slept. The Needle
out of nowhere. lay there, waiting, anticipating its next victim.
Every now and then her thoughts wander to the homework He swallowed. His oesophagus rose and sank with such dread
that needs to be done. It is a daunting thought. Her that Tusker could not bear to watch the proceedings. The
homework becomes menacing, like a tiger that has been left slimy, clotted liquid wavered from side to side as he inspected it.
without food for a month. She is the prey. She has to resume It was a clear fluid, much like water but it had the consistency
her procrastination. As she does, her drawings become more of coagulated saliva. Griffin pinched the syringe between his
intricate. Anything to block out all that is destroying her teeth, not with tension but with a sort of parental caution. He
colour. rolled up the dog-eared sleeve and pumped his fingers, a tribute
It feels as if she has been sitting forever. Three pages are to this virus that made him so sick, so weak and stretched; torn
written. Intricate lines and twirls surround the words. She like a shirt until the last thread clung hopelessly to a broken
starts on a fourth page. It will be her final one; she is decided. shoulder. It hurt, it hurt inside and out. This was the cause, the
This one has no words, just twirls. She has to fill every gap with war, the revolution and the only way to survive it was The
a line, a twirl, a dot- anything she can. Needle.
She is finally finished. It is late. The thought of her homework 84 hours now. No sleep. Three and a half days and Griffin sat
makes her shiver. If she does not start it now she will never with dry eyes waiting for the enemy. Tusker screamed
finish it. But the tiger is ready to pounce. These thoughts sometimes, dark, melancholic moans that blasted through the
envelop her, with darkness overshadowing her. No, she cannot ragged tent. But this is what they call 'occupational hazard'.
do it, not now. She needs to sleep. Colourful dreams, they will Someone has a twisted sense of humour, thought Griffin. He
help. Dreaming is so much better than reality. After all she coughed. Wheezy, dry and again and again. It wasn't stopping;
might be able to tackle her homework in the morning … his left lung was fighting his right lung. Back and forth, back
Megan Kearney Grade 10 and forth; hard to breathe. Finally it ceased with a loud splatter
of dark blood. It lay in the orange sand, a crimson reminder of
Sandman
The Iris123PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS
Heavy breathing. Inhale. Exhale.
Confusion.
Where?
Reach back from the void …
Griffin.
Griffin.
GRIFFIN!

The voice came down like large drops of rain and pounded on
his temples. Luminous blue eyes filled his view; surrounded by
dull, expressionless and somewhat scraggly eyelashes, but
those eyes; they were beautiful. Griffin sat up; he seemed to
wince at the effort, as if every muscle was sucking in all reserve
energy to lift him. His mouth felt bitter, poisonous, and
painful. His tongue was rough and patterned with cuts and
mouth ulcers that had swarmed to uncomfortable positions.
He felt them loosely with his tongue, careful not to cause any
more pain. “Griffin, it's your shift.” It was Tusker.
A hard and lethargic sigh erupted from his chest and exploded
out of his mouth. A hot sticky aura clung to his flesh, like
uncomfortable static electricity and almost instantly, he
enveloped himself in his own embrace and shuddered, a
sudden cold grip seemed to have possessed him. “Griffin.”
Echoed Tusker.

Viewpoint English

these so called 'occupational hazards'. He wiped his mouth finished with its innocent victims.
with a grungy arm, still baffled by this sudden attack on his At last, the wind wins its battle-victory! The drumming hail
already crippled system. It was blood, he thought. Not just transforms back into soft, almost silent rain. The soft shower
some freak hallucination brought on by induced insomnia. then turns to the odd drop here and there and finally clouds
“Damn drug,” he muttered to himself. “What good is a scout if have stopped their mournful weeping. The wind dies down to
he can't raise an alarm 'cus he's spluttering blood all over the a barely audible whisper and the clouds lift their veils to reveal
place?” Griffin nagged to himself. This thing, this drug that the setting sun in all its glory.
they gave them; it did more damage than good. It was Mother Earth has once again renewed herself and the heavens
supposed to prolong a functional state of awareness. Specially are, for the moment, placated. I am utterly lost in the beauty of
created for the scouts of the revolution, scientifically dubbed the dusk when the robot again instructs all in its domain to
Modafinil 3497 but among the scouts it was known as move. I now pull off slowly with the others and gently the five
Sandman. A twisted, deformed idea of an anti-fatigue o'clock commuters ride off into the distance, releasing the
stimulant. Coffee times a million. A drug so strong that the blockage that was.
body was powerless to fight off its devastating effects. The Still in a dream-like state, I gaze at the passing world. It
physique was rendered redundant. The idea was – as it is with whizzes by like the ruby-red Ferraris on an F1 racetrack. I pull
most ideas – pure to begin with. It was meant to be a crutch for into my driveway, lock the car, stroll into the house and leisurely
the brave scouts, posted miles away from human contact. A sink into my favourite chair. With my thoughts still in a dream I
pick-me-up when fatigue slowly seeped in. drift further and further away, my eyes droop, closed and then I
Sandman was a far cry from the initial idea. All life was being fall peacefully asleep.
tapped. All will and hope were slowly being sucked away and Marielena James Grade 11
the idea of democracy and freedom and sugar coated things
were slipping away too. Griffin wondered if Tusker would ever Leonardo Da Dreams
stop screaming, if those taunting nightmares would ever
disperse. He wondered if he would live to see the revolution Take a glance at the shelves and shelves of identical brown,
and the dream he died for come true. This was the cause, the dusty boxes in perfectly straight rows extending to the end of
war, the revolution and perhaps there was no way to survive it. time. Their contents arranged in neat order and their fronts
Nena Maree Grade 10 labelled carefully. But there are those 'other' boxes, those
'different' ones. They are splashed with colour and
The storm, the traffic and, well me. overflowing with knowledge. Their contents, a sign of
overcome challenges, brave statements and the never-ending
The wipers flick-flack, flick-flack their fan-shaped holes in the quest for knowledge.
storm. Ahead, there are four lanes of rush-hour traffic, Most of us are aware of the geniuses like Einstein, da Vinci and
slowing along the oil-dark tar. I clutch and brake, change down, Van Gogh, all of whom possessed great intelligence and
stretch over the steering-wheel and wipe a ragged circle in the amazing talent yet were briskly labelled and stored into a box
windscreen mist that blurs the scene! I peer out onto the for the deranged, social outcasts. They, however, refused the
chaotic scenario from the safety of my car and see the pouring confines of such a box and clambered out suffering slightly but
world around me. Everything is drenched in the cool, cleansing embracing free thought with both arms. Their amazing feats
drops that are falling like pebbles from heaven.
The people who are brave enough to venture out into this irisand miraculous discoveries would never have been possible
concoction of howling wind and rain have only their trusty
umbrellas for protection. In an array of themes and colours, had it not been for their escape from the clutches of society
and mainstream thoughts. Leonardo da Vinci dreamed of his
girls high thetheumbrellasbobupanddowntoarhythmof loudlyhonking flying machine, Chopin, Liszt and many other Romantics like
Blake and Eliot all searched for greater freedom and perhaps
horns and pitter-patter of the falling rain. I am in no particular more importantly complete freedom of expression. They may
hurry, but the throngs of people around me seem to become not have been completely successful but they dared to anyway.
more tense and more irritated as each second passes. For many, it is difficult to find freedom and escape the clutches
The sky is eerily dark and dismal and suddenly a bright flash of modern day society tying us down. During the twelve years
catches my eye – the lightening streaks across the clouded of school that we are forced to endure, we are taught how to
heavens. I notice that the usual street hawkers and think and often what to think. The education system seems to
entrepreneurs have retired to the shelter of buildings, boxes emphasise the point that all knowledge will be found within the
and soaked newspapers, but they don't really seem to mind. four walls of our classrooms; there is nothing beyond them.
The robot above commands the backed-up traffic to move, but Einstein, being a school dropout himself, once said:
the stagnant ocean of cars refuses to obey the green signal. “Knowledge is what's left behind when you've forgotten
I find myself falling into a daydream amongst all the noise of everything you learnt at school.” For many people this seems
man, machine and nature alike. I am just enjoying the world exceptionally true. Although school is a necessary part of life
around me – observing all that is going on. The rain pounds as it encourages the thought process, no progress can be made
down onto the cars and relentlessly, the rain turns to ice. It in such confines, such uniformity. We are taught about the
hails. The thud of stone-like structures on the roof of the car is wonders of the geniuses of the past and occasionally worship
enough to wake the dead. their achievements, yet we are not even granted the privilege of
The storm reaches its peak – blue-white lightening, earth- freedom of expression, thought and change: A surprisingly
shattering thunder, blinding and deafening hail and then the hypocritical stand.
rushing torrents of wind, try to sweep this stubborn Such conformity and uniformity can squash the imagination,
phenomenon away. But, alas, the violent storm has not yet destroy the individual and make challenges more

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Photo: Michelle von Maltitz Grade 12 Photo: Claire Gritten Grade 11

unchallengeable than before. Uniformity may decrease occasionally it moves you to various instances of petulance, a

individuality, therefore decrease difference and in theory keep shadow it remains. Fortunately for us, a candle flickers in our

the peace. An age full of thoughtless, imaginationless and head, desperately trying to convince itself that our heads are

fearful clones is a high price to pay for possible peace. not the medieval mess they appear. We just occasionally forget

Yet freedom of speech, freedom to challenge the where the matches are.

unchallengeable, freedom to say the things and ask the The truth is that we are naturally petulant, we are naturally

questions labelled inappropriate are perhaps a far off ideal. We horrible, but for the bulk of our lives we are not allowed to be –

are, at this stage, still boxes. mainly to keep ourselves out of social isolation! Yet many

Perhaps we can clear the dust from our confining exteriors, let seem fond of our early and late years, where people were more

the ever-present ramblings of our minds spill over the sides and understanding of our shadows. After our parents' extensive

drench the world in colour. Then we may learn and leave a efforts we learn to cage the shadow and, for the most part, we

legacy of intellectual growth that others to come can admire. succeed.

Rosemary Blersch Grade 11 The shadows of the mind are the parts of us that are not worth

showing in the open and are constantly being pruned in our

Shadows efforts to become better people. We clip them off and allow
the candle to shine. The more self-confident and happy you

I wrote my name on the list for the auditions. The shadow are, the fewer shadows there are.

sniggered … I got a mediocre mark on my latest test. The I made the team – I passed the auditions! I aced my next test! I

shadow sneered … I was chatting with my friends and the made real friendships that will last me my whole life … and all

shadow whispered snidely. I spoke with the proverbial angel because I have finally silenced the shadow of my mind.

and devil on my shoulder and the shadow judged each one … Ansuya Rungasamy Grade 11

My shadow of the mind, that haunts me constantly.

As I sit alone at home, I understand why people hate solitude so

Faces in a Crowd– it is when the shadows come out to play. It seems that they

form their own silhouettes. Sometimes they are even This recipe is the new “new thing” of our modern society, so it

recognisable as people you know. They are termites, gnawing is the perfect dish for the next cocktail evening you host! The
through your head. The shadow of the mind. outcome of this recipe is tried and tested, so the result is
And so, as you struggle to be patient, understanding and guaranteed to be exactly the same every time! This recipe will
forgiving to the world, the shadow jumps up and down with a make you the envy of all your friends, and will ensure that you
gleeful grin, yearning for you to thump your annoying stand out from the crowd.
acquaintance with a frying pan, throw a temper tantrum at the
next idiot who says, “Sorry, but I forgot” and bear a malignant You will need:
grudge. The shadow of the mind is that vindictive, bitter old One pinch of vanity
lady, who sees no fault in acting like a spoilt two year old. One litre of mass media
Thirteen. The year of pure hell – when your shadow reigns One cup of insecurity
supreme. I still remember kicking John in the shin for stealing Two cups of low self-esteem
my pencil and various other shameful instances of pettiness. I Obsession to taste
still remember refusing to play netball, as I was not going to
provide endless amusement for bystanders through my Method:
incompetency! 1. Add the mass media to a mixture of insecurity and low

girlThe IsrisTheshadowof themind,however,isdeceptivelyfrail. While self-esteem. Bring to a simmer. This will allow the

125PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

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natural aromas of an individual deluded by popular ideas credit for all the good things. I will continue to stunt her
of beauty to come forth. freedom of speech. She is my wife, not my business partner. I
will not be affected by society's modern ways, my wife belongs
2. Add the pinch of vanity and the mixture will come to a in the kitchen and in no place else.
boil as the individual will develop a need to be not just
another “face in the crowd”. Till death do us part:
I don't know what came over me. She made me angry, she
3. Put the lid on the pot, allowing the concoction to stew made me furious. I just wanted to discipline her, to teach her a
over its own shortcomings. A slight nutty taste may start lesson. My wife cheated on me. I stuck my fists in her ribs, she
to develop as the pressure to conform rises. fell onto the floor and I continued to kick her. I was in some
sort of trance. I didn't mean to hurt her. I wanted to stop
4. Sprinkle the obsession into the mixture, and a bitter myself but beating her was our only vessel of communication.
flavour will come forth from the broth. She yelled a few times asking me to stop but this made me even
angrier. I held her by the neck, she gasped for breath, I held on
5. More mass media may be added at this stage if you wish tighter and watched her soft caramel skin turn into an
to enhance the bitterness. Alternatively you could add unhealthy blue. When I finally snapped out of it, she was on
some peer pressure, as this would enhance the aroma of the floor lying in a pool of blood. DEAD.
discontentment. Mokgabo Tshenkeng Grade 11

6. The mixture will have started to bubble and boil violently Non-Glorifitian Ambition
as the pressure mounts.
I am a 562 year old Glorifitian and my name is Fixnllg-tocc28,
7. Stir the mixture thoroughly using one plastic surgeon. but my friends call me Fi8. I used to live in a quiet suburban
spatial habitat on the outskirts of the Glorification Planet,
8. Silicon or collagen may be added at this stage, to stiffen while I was growing up. I have studied at all of the required
and raise the mixture. Again, stir well with the plastic seventeen schools and completed my studies at nine different
surgeon. universities. I have eleven brothers, fourteen sisters, three
unclassifieds and the average number of six parents. Once I
9. The look of the concoction will have changed drastically had graduated, I moved to the mother-planet to find a job in
by now. It will no longer be a mixture of colour and nutrition sciences. I was like any other normal Glorifitian,
textures. It will be a uniform colour with an insipid scent except I had one non-Glorifitian ambition … I wanted to try
of a gelatinous texture. the foreign delicacy of Lunar-Cheese!
Unfortunately, I realised that this ambition was impossible, as
10. Allow the mixture to cool and then serve it with scalpels Glorifitions were lactose-intolerant. The Glorifitions
and garnish with morphine. themselves treated my ideas as heresy and they banned me from
Glorifitia. That did not deter my “hunger” for Lunar-Cheese.
This gelatinous tart filling can also be used as a face-mask, to In fact, it encouraged me to pursue my ambition. So I left for
ensure that you will not be just another individual face in the the moon.
crowd, but you will be a perfect replica of human perfection by I landed on the moon and collected several samples of the
inhuman standards. cheese. I then experimented on each sample to try and remove
Marita de Waal Grade 11 the lactose from the cheese, but I only succeeded in increasing
the lactose or else disintegrating the entire sample. I was slowly
I do losing my patience and sanity, as I had garrulous conversations
with the cheese experiments. These conversations led me to
“I John, take Anne to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and believe that I too was a piece of cheese.
to hold her in the grasp of my fists. To constantly curse her One day, after many years on the moon, while my supine body
with hateful words and make her feel inferior. To allow my was imitating Swiss cheese, I decided that eating the cheese was
lustful mind to overcome my loving heart and become a not the problem. Instead, my problem was my will for eating
lecherous man which resulted in my wife's insecurities. To the cheese. I always believed that the Glorifition nutritionists
make her resent her curvatious hips, her stretch marks and all were correct in their experiments on finding whether
her other assets that are a trademark of her Africanism. Glorifitions were lactose-intolerant or not; yet I never bothered
to question their statements. I decided that I would do an
In sickness and in health: experiment on myself to see if it was true. I absorbed the
Although I know that it is because of my infidelity and cheese through the suckers on the top of my seven tentacles. I
selfishness that she is infected with HIV, I will continue to treat waited a few hours … I WAS STILL ALIVE! I had to show my
her like a stranger in her own home, to make her a scapegoat breakthrough to the Glorifitions back in Glorifitia. I would
for all the mishaps in this household. I will not go for marriage finally be treated with the respect that I deserved.
counselling because I am a man, I know how to live my own life I blithely stormed into the Official's office at the government's
and how to care for my wife. I beat her because I love her. headquarters. I gave them all a contemptuous glare before I
began my speech. I made certain that the intonations of my
Through the good times and the bad: voice suggested my condescending opinions about them.
Oh yes, I will continue to remind her of all her faults and take Perhaps if I had spoken innocuously, then maybe they would

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have believed me, but I could not stop reviling their original Drip,
acceptances of false statements. My ranting caused a Drip,
contentious rumble between the officials. Drop.
I decided to do a demonstration for them, instead of trying to
explain to them that they could actually eat Lunar-Cheese. I 7 drops to make the motor turn
absorbed the cheese I had brought with me, right in front of 7 drops to quiet desperate hinges
their eyes! This stunt alone stunned the officials into silence. I 7 drops to set the delicate oil painting
smiled triumphantly at them and ebulliently hopped around 7 drops to slip the binding ring
the table. My lap of honour was stymied when I heard a loud
gargle deep within my bowels. My complexion changed 7 drops to drown the helpless moths
several colours before it settled on a bright maroon with neon- Drip,
blue splotches. My tentacles started shrivelling up and curling
into painful coils. Seventeen of my fourty-four eye-stalks lost Drip,
the will to stand upright. Then I started to melt! Drip
The officials just laughed and jeered at me. They said that I was
a fool and that they had tried to warn me all along that Rosemary Blersch Grade 11
Glorifitions could only eat Lunar-Cheese on the moon, as
Glorifitions' bodies were not lactose-intolerant at the moon's On my own
level of gravity. In my ambition for cheese, I ended up as a
repugnant puddle on the floor of the Government's Offices. In loving memory of my great granny Violet Coulson
………………
That evening, the janitor mopped up the puddle on the floor I glance down at what once was the future,
and drained it into a glass jar. He put the jar in a room half- A tear runs down my cheek.
filled with similar jars. The janitor labelled the jar “Fi8 – No. I wipe it away.
218”. Evidently Fi8 was not the first Glorifition who thought The ground beneath my feet shakes with fear,
he could show the government his “new breakthrough” and I stand strong.
Fi8 certainly was not the last. My heart utters out a cry of pain.
Cassandra Pringle Grade 11 I remain calm and smile.
I'm on my own again.
Freedom's Embrace
I walk towards her,
Twisted, encompassed, I try to escape She opens her arms and welcomes me.
Intoxicated by the walls that enclose me. I touch her cheek,
I wonder if light is a myth; It turns to stone.
True light, that Suddenly endless thoughts entwine my mind
Is always seen; With memories indescribable.
Always heard; Her smile, her face, her endless worries.
Always felt. I'm on my own again.
Should I pursue man's greatest desire:
A thought so fragile They take her away, the ir
It is only heard in a whisper; A part of me with her.
A gem so majestic that only Time can cut; They place her where she doesn't belong.
A dance so graceful that only Humility can perfect. Closer to hell than heaven,
Shadows surround me Surrounded by dirt.
Darkness overwhelms me I place a lily on her coffin,
But And walk away, not looking back
It is too late.
For a passion has ignited within me: girls highI'monmyownagain.
A passion pursued by many before me;
Those who dared to trust the dream of a Whisper. Carla Hodgson Grade 11
Now I seek man's greatest desire
I chase the true light The Rhythm
I long to know Freedom's embrace.
Amanda Naidoo Grade 11 The rhythm of my heart beat is derived
From the woman I have inherited, soft tender
Of Oil Ebony hips which will bear the pure oh!
So soulful descendants of the BaThembu clan
7 drops to cause dry hair to shine
7 drops to fry the speckled egg My rhythm is disrupted by society
7 drops to provoke scarlet blemishes Which insists on scolding me
7 drops to encourage the weak flame Instead of moulding me
7 drops to massage tired muscles My worth is measured in my waist
This eats away at my soul
It is something I cannot console

My rhythm is kept constant as I
Become part of each day

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Characterised by breezes of Ubuntu Die not, poor death, not yet canst thou kill me.”
Rays of pride and showers of unity I bend my weary head down – with exhaustion. I chose the
uncertain. I chose Life.
My rhythm changes course as I am inspired “Death you have lost.”
My rhythm will change its course when my inner turmoil Sashreka Pillay Grade 12
Is turned into a fertile soil
Which will bear fruits of a better tomorrow Rainbow People
For all women with the rhythm.
Seneme Mthembu Grade 11 It began like most days, with the wisps of chilled rain seeping
through my window. There was a rainbow splattered across the
The war between Life and Death cloud-clad sky. It was beautiful; a deep rich black with speckles
of grey and white around its edges. A trickle of sunlight
Inside me a battle rages. It doesn't want to die. No one wants cascades over my off-white carpet and settles itself on my cold,
to lose it. They want me to decide who wins. grey cupboards. My dress fits comfortably over my copper-
It is a war waged on grassy plains, in streets, in buildings, in golden skin, it is black with dull cream-coloured flowers
shops and in classrooms. It is the war between Life and Death. embroided around the seams.
Life. The “driving force of humanity” cannot win on its own – I set out into the street with swirls of hot steam dancing off the
it's losing. It is losing. Life is presenting me with winning black tar. There is a woman strutting ahead of me. She
streaks and losing streaks. It's telling me about opportunities reminds me of a milk-tart; her skin is pale with a buttery
for success and failure. A plate of food and obesity is put in undertone and flaked with cinnamon freckles. Her hair is a
front of me and sex-with-AIDS as a side dish. Failure comes deep, rich auburn and it reminds me of roasted almonds. She is
without question; Success without an answer – but Life cannot wearing a caramel suit and has long, syrup-coloured earrings
promise certainty. dangling mischievously under her hair. She glances back and
Death. The “Unknown”, “The Long Sleep” - is winning. It her eyes are the shade of emeralds with a subtle hint of apple-
promises the certainty of nothing – the security of getting out. green around the iris. As she turns around, her shoulder
Death does not confuse me – Life does. Death does not collides with a brute man.
promise two contradicting choices – but Life does. Death is He is pink in the face and looks slightly sticky, like a strawberry
final. Fizzer. His suit is white with a pinch of pale blue; similar to the
Today Life and Death stand side by side in front of me. They foam of a breaking wave. His shoes are the colour of soggy
came to get a decision. They want to know who won the battle. mud and he is sporting a ravishing sunflower-yellow tie. His
I look around me and scout the battlefield of my mind. I see eyes are brown and dotted with poppy seed-black. His hair is
the discarded carcasses of arguments lost. I see the empty thin and the colour of Witstinkhout. He seems angry with a
trenches which lie fraught with the ghosts of stupid ideas that red glow oozing around him. He waltzes past me and enters
they thought would make them win. The scattered remains of the post office.
gun shells lie empty to bear testament to the amount of An old lady hobbles out of the antique store next door and
destruction they caused trying to win. Among the bloodstains ruffles her coat around her frail posture. She is hunched over
of sacrificed morals and values and among the uprooted seeds like a bent spoon and is wearing cotton pants the colour of
of peace, Death and Life have left their mark in my mind. I
stand in a place of horror, of blatant desperation to win and I irisMarie biscuits. Her blouse is crocheted with Forget-me-not
breathe the air filled with the stench of sweat drawn out of
soldiers who fought for what they thought was right – and the lilac and she is wearing a rich plum-purple scarf. Her skin is
wrinkled like an old granadilla and her hair, perched on the top
girls high thegassesthatcausedtheirdemise. of her head like a meringue placed strategically on a lemon tart.
A little boy runs into her arms and melts into her coat like
The battlefield of my mind lies barren in front of me. Icy margarine. A sudden wave of pink streams from their bodies,
winds wrap their arms around me and dust dances in front of it must be love! He is wearing a bright orange shirt, the colour
my eyes, forcing its way into my throat and causing me to of Fanta. His gob-stopper red shirts are covered in dirt and his
splutter. This place – the battleground for Life and Death – takkies are wood-brown. His hair is blonde, more the colour
emits a thick stench of foreboding and destruction. The sights of cooked oats sprinkled with brown sugar. His eyes are
before my feet prove it. aquamarine and there is innocence boiling from his pores.
I have made my decision. They know this now. The objects that surround us are lifeless, with no emotion but
Immediately the battlefield in my mind goes dark. I stand in yet we still describe them with such rich colour. People bulge
blackness – in darkness Life and Death stand waiting - and so with emotion and pulse with the flare of life but we only
do their armies. Their armies stand in the night of my mind. portray them as black or white. We are the ones who paint the
They all watch. skies and landscapes with beautiful, diverse colours; refracted
In my mind Life and Death turn to me and chorus: “The night through the water of being. We are the rainbow people.
has a thousand eyes. Our armies will bear witness to your Laura Wojtowitz Grade 12
choice.”
The night has a thousand eyes … The Bustle in a House – the morning after …
I stood in the darkness not seeing Life or Death. I stood in the
darkness and quoted Donne: The little ant house is a busy maize of millions of little
“Death, be not proud, though some have called thee underground tunnels. They're long, curly, squirmy tunnels,
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so, pushing into endless blackness, with no end and no light for
For those who thou thinkest thou overthrow relief. The air is damp. The little tunnels are squashed-

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pressed-into the hard, hard earth. It's dark and damp and Now I'm going to have to throw it in the dustbin! I'm

squashed. surprised the ants and mice haven't got to it yet! What a pity.”

The tiny spaces between the mud grains allow the little lines of - And the mommy carries on with her huge, hateful, human

light to peep over and creep in silently – little warm rays of business.

hope and joy in the cold, damp, squashed little tunnels. The - And the bustle (which was all really quite insignificant and

sleepy ants blink in the blinding light. It's quite unexpectedly trivial) ends abruptly.

harsh today. They blink lots of little blinks of disbelief. Then Megan Kahts Grade 12

they get out of bed and sneak with ever-quick, but ever tiny
tip-toe steps, to the table of the feast to come. As the daylight

Cocoon Crackingbreaks through the pressed mud, thousands of ants fill the

tunnels in a flurry of black dots against the now lighter shade “The end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.”

of brown, and whirlpool into the room that all the tunnels - R.E.M.

lead to. And in the exact, point-centre of the whole system of Fear. Anticipation. Elation. I step on the threshold of my

tunnels, stands the table for the feast. own immortality without a whisper of an idea of what will

The ants are squashed. They crowd and squash and suffocate become of me and it feels absolutely fabulous!

and some are forced to squash into the already squashed little In only a matter of months I will be transformed from a

tunnels, but they leave the table clear. The table is important. tired-out robot of the institution to an individual of ambition

And they await the great feast in silence and respect – a with the endless opportunity to live and breathe and succeed.

collective, quiet hunger. (They're preparing. The rain is I will be transformed from a number to a name. I will

almost over – and then they can fetch their food!) A little metamorphose into the butterfly I was born to become. No

breeze squirms its way in and then rushes through a random longer will my existence consist of fascism and formulae; or

tunnel, on its mysterious journey to nowhere. It makes a wave calculus and composition. There will be no more monotony,

through the little ant crowd – they rise like millions of little mediocrity or mathematics. I will be free to choose who I

goosebumps on human flesh. But the breeze is still a breeze – want to be. My voice will be heard and my opinion valued. I

it's a tiny puff of hope for them and it lifts their little spirits, 'til will fly away as a fiery phoenix ready to embrace my dreams.

their excitement fills the room and gathers on the roofs and I shall see the world in all its diversity and beauty. I will fall in

walls and overpowers the air – supported by their tiny love with life. I will study Shakespeare until his words cross

exclaims of delight and the little buzz and business and bustle my lips as if they had always lived there as evidence of my

amongst the quietly – very quietly – excited little crowd of ethereal and emotive passion for the poetry that percolates in

ants. the very pit of my promising soul. I will proclaim the prose

BIG BUSTLE in another little house of the perfectionists from the rooftops of Paris so that I am

The secret mouse house is a collection of lofty little chambers, heard from Montmartre to Versailles. I will light up stages of

stuck together. Like big, round foam bubbles. Each chamber London's West End and Broadway and the festivals of

is lit by a central candle, casting a warm, but eerie glow on the Cambridge and Stratford and Edinburgh. I will cause

early morning air – spiritual, religious – but still a little eerie. uncontrollable laughter and heart-breaking tears with a single

The fresh air of the day swirls slowly through the spacious glance and my silence will inspire a thousand words. I will

rooms and casts on them, a tiny spell of hope. write tomorrow's news and yesterday's opinions. I will

Awoken by the spell, mommy mouse and daddy mouse scurry encourage the hard work and perseverance that I relied on to

to their little family dining room and together they quickly lay get thus far and I will lead by example. I will never stop

out the table cloth and little place mats and little knives and learning.

forks. They're preparing for the feast. Two tiny baby mice My life will become the epitome of satisfaction. I will live in a

enter – skinny, sickly pale – they're secretly coughing and fabulous loft apartment in the bustling aroma of New York

secretly starving. But soon they'll be full of life again. City where the lights will be too bright and the sounds too

Mommy prays to thank God for the blessing that is to come. loud and that energy will sustain my soul with all the

The little mice imagine the sweet scent of the meal to come inspiration I will ever need. And when my immortality

and it fills all of their senses – tiny goosebumps rise on their begins to lose any lustre, I will find a cottage in the Scottish

skin – but they're so tiny. Because the mice are so excited.Highlands of Robert Louis Stevenson and James Barry and I
The taste tickles them and they giggle and bustle. They wait,will rejuvenate my mind and with the roots of my very
wait, wait – a tiny secret, hungry, desperate wait. existence with the natural beauty on which I rely upon for life.
The tiny insignificant bustle in THE BIG, MAIN HOUSE I will live and I will write to live and live to write. I will run a
A chubby girl with swollen, red cheeks; freckles sprinkled tavern on the rocky coastline of Greece. I will live above a
liberally over her nose and healthy, golden curls hugging herfish-and-chip shop in Tuscany. My options are endless and
face, walks into the kitchen. my enthusiasm unstoppable.
“Mommy. I'm hungry. Mommy, I want breakfast! Where's I am standing on the threshold of my own unique and
the cheese?” uncertain immortality and I feel as fine as a summer's day in
“Now, now, Honey, if you wait a few seconds, I'll fix you the British countryside. My dreams are longing to be fulfilled
something irresistibly yummy.! … Gasp! The cheese is on the and my mistakes are longing to be made. I will fly. I will soar.
floor! Tommy and his friends must have let the block fall whenI will love. I will fail. I will pick myself up and reach heights I
they were fixing themselves supper last night – and then theyhave yet to discover. This is the end of routine. This is the
forgot it there, in all their excitement! Tsk, tsk. It seemsend of dependence. This is the end of the world as I know it.
Tommy got TOO excited around his friends. It's hardly been I will touch the stars, third-degree burns and all.
Alex Jerrett Grade 12
girlThe Isriseaten from and it's a perfect block of cheese, just wasted.
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A true mother This intelligent, adult woman is no mother. She is only

Life at home was not always guns and roses. Is that the way someone whose whole sterile kingdom has been reduced to

the saying goes? In our unconventional family anything was alphabetized lingerie drawers and imported French dairy

accepted – except roses. Our home, a lonely caravan on substitutes. There is no child in this home so before I meet

Saneze Boulevard, was decorated with smiling cherub's faces, young Michael, I turn to walk out of one hundred Pleasant

chaos and scraps of furniture in faded colours. My brother Street, Richton, and back to my mother, before she becomes

and I shared a mattress. It was brought out at night and if the only a dazzling fairy in the velvet blackness.

weather allowed it, we would gaze up at the stars. My brother Natalie Milroy Grade 12

told me that they were dazzling fairies dressed in diamonds
going out for the night. The first time I saw a shooting star,

Life's Reelwas the night my brother died and I knew it was him, dancing

in the velvet blackness. I was eager to leave after that, and so A bottle of cologne

began my life as a nanny at one hundred Pleasant Street, stands smouldering

Richton. on the table beside my bed

It lasted one hour. releasing its suffocating perfume

I arrive in the kitchen. With a few partitions it could easily suggestively into my room

house a family of four. Our caravan could fit into it at least a

dozen times and yet, there are no signs of life in this kitchen at A cello of burgundy wood

all. My fingers gently stroll over the marble tops and are is mounted in the corner

suddenly met by hers – her hands are a white moth. My but silence hovers

mother's hands are cold and grey and only just cover her as its strings wait patiently

gaping mouth, hungry for food. But these hands, with their to be stroked into awakening

flashing French manicure, belong to a healthy woman. These by a bow made of horse hair

hands are rarely, if ever, used in this kitchen.

“Hello. I am Mrs Wealthson. Welcome to our humble home. A trumpet of gold

We are actually a very simple family and I am sure you will majestically sits on the bookcase

enjoy looking after young Michael.” it has never been played by a human mouth

I presume by “simple”, she is referring to the single piece of and has no understanding

laminated paper, entitled “Rules”, on the aluminium fridge for the pulsing vibrations of sound

door. It is, after all, stuck on with magnets from the golf club

and Paris, rather than those of complicated cartoons and pets. A pair of red stilettos

So begins the list: lie inside my wardrobe

• Allergic to dairy their heels worn

• Allergic to peanuts and almost worthless:

• Sandwiches must be cut in quarters and have no crust a night on the town had ruined them

• No raw food

• No cooked food The Christ

• No American food … the Lamb of silken wool

This carries on but all the finely typed print eventually drenched with crimson blood

becomes a blur with only the word, “NO” shouting at me hangs upon my wall

from across the white room, while she, so eagerly, explains clamouring for attention

why I am so necessary in her difficult and demanding from all who pass

existence. I think back to my mother and the grazes and

bleeding of her voice – the whisper of her hardship and pain Barbed wire

and the shriek of her agonising laughter. I am nodding frames my door

gravely in agreement to her pathetic plea and find myself and indicates the peril that awaits those

saying, “Oh my God, of course this makes total sense.” who dare to enter and cross the threshold
As I am guided through this “humble” house, my mind dwells
back to my home. Although the caravan stretches only A tube of lipstick
twenty-six metres, I remember how easy it was to join my discarded amongst a dozen others:
mother in her bed, which is now a bed of blood and bad luck.scarlet and alluring
In this house, one has the image of the poor three-year oldcreating luscious delight and pleasure
awakening from a nightmare and having to don a pith helmetto its wearer
and flashlight to go in search of his parents' room, armed onlyA rotten fish
with a compass and fierce determination. portrays my soul
She leads me back into the silence and “simplicity” of thedecaying smelling
kitchen to meet the boy in the bubble. But before young devoid of any true emotion
Michael comes bouncing in, I think back to my mother. except dread and the hope for
Oscar Wilde said, “Children begin my loving their parents;ultimate tranquillity
after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever do they forgive
them”. My mother did her very best for me. Although I An eraser for my weary head:
blamed her for my misfortunes, she remained to me a mother.to delete the unacceptable

The Iris girls130 PHSG1902-2006•THEIRIS

Viewpoint English

to alter my thought Crying, crying … You are watching me …
and recreate my dreams
a chance at happiness I sleep in the crook of your arm —
without the lull of laudanum A haunted baby.
Maggie Barnard Grade 12
I am watching You …
Ooddee totosocSk ock Counting the breaths.
Oh, wonderful woolly sock!
I wonder at your silence.
Your fantastic fluffiness keeps the cold out; There seems
Your ever thirsty pile banquets on the sweat of my old feet To be more to those greens
and
you do a great job hiding the secret that is my duck toes And browns, but perhaps there is not.
So for all the hard work my gratitude is ceaseless … Perhaps.

but now I must give you the boot. Am I more than you bargained for?
Phakama Botha Grade 12 Are you tired yet?
You say no.
Apart “I trust you …”

Separated by countless miles We walk, hand in hand,
You, with a cloud,
and oceans that could drown the gods Me, in a cloud!

yet – I smile and smile.
I like this, here.
you still make me cry.
We watch each other,
Your voice, crackled by the lines Revolving slowly,
Trying to capture
of a telephone wire The essence of
“we” …
that brings us [strangely] Kayleigh Naudé Grade 12

together. The Poet's Lifecycle

Sometimes, I forget what your face looks like On Being Born

- It is dark.
And warm.
or the exact grey blue of your I know this place.
I know it well.
sad eyes. I feel safe – a reddish blackness, enveloped, cradled.

But still, your faint memory makes me It is silent.
And throbbing.
weep and sob I like this place.
I like it well.
like a child. I am protected – a small, wriggling gift with toes.

I do remember your smell though, There is a rushing, now.
Now, a flood.
it takes me back to my childhood I am pulled from my reverie.
Such noise!
fading – I open my newly found lungs.
I am wrapped up – I am a gift!
it was light-years ago.
I am protected – a small parcel of breathing.
12 years have passed … I am safe – cradled, nourished, new.

and we missed them – My fingers flex.
This is just the beginning.
My life and yours Kayleigh Naudé Grade 12

no longer entwined, The Iris131PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

as they should be.

I lost you

s Crossing the Linesomewhere;in the midst of

circumstantial distance

and the inevitable phenomenon

of

growing up and

apart

Amy Whem Grade 12

“… seems like these days are old meeting places …”
- Tori Amos

Take me out of this garden:
I am going up, to land.

Viewpoint Afrikaans

SteAlwefrrkikaans

As ek president van Suid-Afrika is Duisternis val oor 'n siellose lyk,
Dít uiteindelik tevrede met sy prooi se prys.
Al is ek net veertien jaar oud en al is my naam net Elsmari Nadia Naudé Graad 9
Wium, het ek nog steeds groot planne vir Suid-Afrika.
Planne om dit 'n beter land vir almal te maak, 'n land vol liefde Laat geld jou wereld draai?
en pret. Die dag wanneer ek president word, is die dag
wanneer Suid-Afrika 'n beter toekoms sal hê. 'n Kind se uitkyk op die lewe is 'n kosbare ding. Hulle gedagtes
Ek sal nie my land se geld mors nie en ek sal al my beloftes en drome is nog so rein en onskuldig. 'n Kind wil 'n dokter
nakom. Ek sal die arm mense help deur vir hulle genoeg kos word omdat hul held of heldin een is, nie omdat 'n goeie salaris
en klere te gee en ek sal ook vir hulle huise bou. Vuil water en betaal word nie. Hulle koppe is nog nie deur mense en die
siektes sal nie meer 'n problem wees nie; almal sal skoon water media vergiftig nie. Geld is nog nie 'n bekommernis nie.
uit krane kan kry. Ek sal meer skole bou met opgeleide My gesin se lewe is nog altyd gemaklik. Ons kan die nodige
onderwysers wat die leerlinge reg sal help en leer. bekostig en ons word af en toe bederf. Maar geld is nie die
Ek sal graag ook Suid-Afrika 'n veilige land wil maak. As dit basis van ons bestaan nie. Ek haat mense wat altyd oor geld
nodig is, sal ek die doodstraf terugbring sodat mense kan praat en dink. So 'n mens beïndruk my glad nie.
weet dat misdaad glad nie verdra sal word nie. Mense sal veilig As jy mooi daaroor dink, is geld so 'n materiële behoefte. Dit
kan lewe sonder vrees. kan vir jou aardse dinge soos kos, klere en 'n mooi huis koop.
As ek president van Suid-Afrika is, sal groot dinge gebeur, Alhoewel hierdie dinge belangrik is, kan dit nie vir ons ware
alles sal verander. geluk bring nie. Geld kan beslis nie geluk koop nie. Dit wat
Pasop, Thabo Mbeki, hier kom ek! rêrig saak maak, soos vriende, familie, verhoudings, liefde en
Elsmari Wium Graad 8 geloof, kan nie met al die geld in die wêreld joune word nie.
Die rykste man op aarde kan sielsongelukkig wees omdat geld
Dit sy eerste prioriteit is!
My ouers glo dit is belangrik om nie geld te mors nie en hulle
Elke keer wat sy weghardloop, wil my 'n paar lewenslesse leer. Daarom gee hulle elke maand
kruip sy vinnig terug. vir my 'n bedrag om mee klaar te kom. As ek my geld vir die
maand op klere geblaas het, is dit my eie probleem. Dan moet
Dít doen dit aan haar. ek maar vir daardie maand by die huis sit in plaas van saam met
my vriende uitgaan. Dit is mos my eie skuld dat ek my
Elke keer wat sy terugkruip, prioriteite verkeerd gekry het!
word sy dieper ingetrek. Ek is nog baie onseker oor watter werk ek eendag wil doen.
Ek weet net dat wat ek ookal doen, dit my gelukkig moet maak
Dít doen dit aan haar. en ek moet nie my keuse baseer op inkomste nie. Ek wil beslis
nie ongelukkig wees vir die res van my lewe net omdat ek
Verleidelike arms gee haar valse troos hebsugtig is nie! Baie meisies sê dat hulle nie gaan werk nie,
en 'n denkbeeldige skouer om op te huil. maar liewer vir geld as liefde gaan trou! Ek dink hierdie
redenasie is 'n belaglike idee! Sê nou jou man gaan vyf jaar na
Almal sê Dít is skadelik. julle troue dood? Jy kan nie vir ewig van sy pensioen leef nie!
Sy wéét Dít is skadelik Ek wil selfstandig en onafhanklik wees voordat ek aan trou
maar Dít verlam haar logika. dink!
Geld maak beslis die lewe gemakliker, maar dit kan nie ware
Dít verblind haar tot realiteit. geluk koop nie!
Sy maak haarself stadig dood, Benita Boegman Graad 10
Sy het 'n onweerstaanbare lus vir net een oomblik se plesier,
een oomblik se ontvlugting. Die Slaggat

Sy sit 'n bewende naald in haar gretige aar. Op 'n klein plattelandse dorpie in die middel van die Vrystaat,
'n Sug ontsnap haar keel soos Dít verligting bring .. het daar 'n groot ongeskikte, onbeskofte man gebly. Sy naam

The Iris132 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint Afrikaans

was Meintjies, Neville Meintjies. Hy was skatryk en geld was glad nie kon doen nie!) Meisies het deur die jare vir my pa th
sy enigste prioriteit in die lewe. Geld was soos 'n magneet wat gekom en gegaan, maar almal was só jonk, of só onervare of
hom nadergetrek het. Niks en niemand anders was vir hom net só “agter my pa se rykdom aan”. Ek't myself nie veel
belangrik nie. daaraan gesteur nie, want ek was tog die enigste wérklike
Sy geld het vir hom baie voorregte laat geniet en hy het gedink meisie in my pa se lewe.
rykdom gee hom die reg om ander soos sy minderes te My siening van die saak het so bly staan tót op die dag toe 'n
behandel. Hy was selfsugtig en het gedink dat hy die enigste jong, gesette, vriendelike jong dame dìe dag vir mý (ja – net vir
persoon in die hele wêreld was. Niemand het van hom gehou mý) kom kuier het! In my oë was sy perfek: Lang donker
nie, maar hy het hom nie veel daaraan gesteur nie, tot een hare, groen oë en die mooiste simmetriese gesig met 'n sterk
spesifieke dag … kakebeen. Sy het spesiaal vir mý 'n teddie gekoop. Sy het op
Die gemeenskap het belsuit om 'n Paasfees te hou waar almal 'n moederlike manier my op haar skoot getel en vir my dìe
saam kon kuier en feesvier. Die mense was baie arm, daarom mooiste storie vertel van twee dwergies wat kattekwaad
het hulle geld ingesamel om die fees te finansier. Op die dag aangevang het. Ek was dolverlief op dié vroutjie.
het al die families in die parkie ontmoet. Hulle het die geld Hierdie nuwe liefde wat ek vir dié vroutjie ervaar het, het my
spandeer op 'n bo-baas spyskaart vir die fees. Tot almal se gedryf tot op die punt om op Kersdag vir haar te sê sy moet in
verbasing, het Meintjies daar opgedaag, sonder om 'n donasie 'n boks klim sodat my pa kan sien watter wonderlike geskenk
te maak! Hy het hulle kos geëet en hulle drank gedrink. Die ek vir hóm die jaar gekry het! Hy het net gelag en sy oë het
mense was stomgeslaan. geblink en elf maande later het ek in 'n deftige wit rokkie voor
Meintjies het daar gepronk asof hy die koning was. Hy het die kansel gestaan en die ringe aan my pa en toekomstige
almal met sy donker duister oë bestudeer. Nadat hy vir amper moeder gegee.
'n halfuur almal deurgekyk het, was hy verveeld. Hy het hard Ek't gedink: “Hemel – my eie ma! Iets wat ek nog nooit gehad
gedink aan iets om te doen sodat al die ander mense kon dink net nie, het ék uiteindelik gekry!” Almal begin toe praat van
hy is gelukkig en heeltemal tevrede met alles in sy lewe, maar
sy kop was leeg. Hy het gewonder wat hy kon doen om ander girls highmy “stiefmoeder” en hoe wonderlik my “stiefmoeder” is.
mense te beïndruk met sy lewenswysheid en skatte.
Heel onverwags terwyl hy so na al die borrelende, gelukkige Naderhand was dit so erg dat ek bedruk begin voel het; ek het
families kyk, tref die werklikheid hom. Hy was nie regtig gevoel soos die swart skapie van my nuwe familie.
tevrede met sy lewe nie. Geld is nie die belangrikste ding in Ek sal nooit die dag vergeet toe die einste vroutjie na al die
die wêreld nie! Vir die eerste keer in sy lewe het hy sy hart voel drama na my toe kom met 'n dokument in haar hand nie. Sy't
krimp. Hy het ontsettend eensaam gevoel. Arme Meintjies my weer op haar skoot getel en my vertel dat sy vir maande in
besef toe dat hy in 'n groot donker slaggat geval het. Sy 'n groot hofsaak baklei het om dié dokument te kry. Ek was
gulsigheid het hom nêrens gebring nie. nuuskierig en ek wou weet vir watter saak sy baklei het. Sy't
Noudat sy passie vir geld weg was, het hy sommer ook sy lus opgekyk na my, met trane in haar oë, en gesê dat ek nou
vir die lewe verloor. Hy was spyt oor hoe hy ander behandel eindelaas wettiglik háár dogter is en dat niks dit tussen ons kan
het. Die swart hond van depressie het hom gejaag! Hy begin verbreek nie. Ons sou soos 'n regte gesin saamleef sonder
toe hardloop, desperaat, verby die dorpie, verby sy huis, verby uitsluiting.
die dam, die veld in. Hy pyl op 'n hoë windpomp af. Die Dit het my geruk; my droom het waar geword en hare ook! Sy
donker jaag hom tot heelbo. “Here, vergewe my!” was sy het my aangeneem en net soos 'n ware ma en dogter het ons
laaste woorde. met ons arms om mekaar gesit en nie 'n woord gesê nie. My
Die windpomp draai vandag nog, dit is vrugbaar om die moeder was by my en niks het verder saak gemaak nie.
pomp,maar Meintjies se lewe was 'n droogte. Reinette du Toit Graad 11
Vilma Erasmus Graad 10
Reabetswe Thipe Grade 9
... want drome word waar
The Iris133PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS
Ek onthou nie regtig hoe dit gebeur het nie. Ek
onthou nie eens die begrafnis of die hordes mense,
op die foto's, wat staan en staar na haar kis, of die
tonne medisynebotteltjies wat my ouma nog stééds
na al die jare hou nie.
Al wat ek onthou, is dat ek as 'n peuter een oggend
wakker geskrik en besef het dat ek moedeloos was
en dat daar 'n leemte in ons huis ingesluip het. My
ouma het natuurlik die beste van die situasie
gemaak, my pa ondersteun in sy wewenaar-situasie
en my onder haar vlerk geneem, maar nogtans het
ek gesmag na wat elke kind om my gehad het – 'n
moeder.
Dit het só aangegaan vir vyf jaar. Dit was net ek en
my pappa - boesemvriende - wat deur die hele Suid-
Afrika reis en so nou en dan my ouma, wat die feite
van die lewe vir my geleer het en gesorg het dat ek
netjies en skoon was. (Iets wat mans, volgens haar,

Viewpoint Afrikaans

Die Vyf Brakketiers “Hoekom is julle in my grot?” bulder die Kat-bees.
“Ons is hier vir die spek,” hap Blikse, parmantig terug.
(Die makste hond byt die seerste). “Ag, is dit so? Julle moet eers gevaarlike take verrig en twee
raaisels beantwoord voor julle julle pote op die spek kan lê,”
Die brakketiers … gallant, onbevrees, goedhartig! sis die Kat-bees.
Inderdaad was hierdie sjarmante r(i)edders slegs 'n groep Vir die volgende paar weke het die Brakketiers drake
rebelse straatbrakke wat stert tussen die bene van hul streke besweer, haaie verdrink en soos windhonde gehardloop.
moes ontslae raak in 'n verbeteringskool! Die spanning het hoog geloop en die Brakketiers het soms
Een van hulle gunsteling misdade was om die bene van die soos kat en hond baklei, maar hulle het al hierdie Olimpiese-
GOUE BENE BANK te beroof. Die voorbrak was ook die Standaardtake suksesvol afgelê. Dit het die Kat-bees boser
beskermheer van onwettige Bulhondgevegte! en boser gestem, toe spin hy maar sy troefkaart .. die twee
Tydens hul vlooierige verblyf in die verbeteringskool, was hulle raaisels!
opsigter 'n eksentrieke Jack Russel wat daarop roem dat hy 'n Selfvoldaan vra hy die eerste:
superheld is. Hy het die jong, onervare brakke geleer van
Middeleeuse drake en hoe om hulle te verslaan om ander diere “Saans kom dit sonder om gehaal te word,
in nood te beskerm, maar met hulle vrylating was hul Bedags is dit verlore, al is dit nie gesteel nie.”
uitbundige gekef van korte duur …
Gou-gou was hulle weer snoetdiep in die moeilikheid! Die “Hulle kom in die aand en is weg in die dag … Ek weet! Dis
regter, 'n opregte Labrador, wou sommer hulle tjank aftrap sterre …” blaf Sproetjies.
deur hulle lewenslange gevangenisskap op te lê, maar slinks “Korrek,” grom die Kat-bees. “My eerste raaisel is altyd die
besluit om eerder met hulle 'n ooreenkoms aan te gaan… maklikste. Hier is my tweede raaisel.”
“Julle het twee opsies - lewenslange gevangenisskap, of julle
moet die laaste pakkie spek in die hele wêreld vind en terugkry,” “Ek verdra die maan,
het die regter geblaf. Ek kan nie die son verdra nie,
“Die laaste pakkie spek? Maar jy kan dan spek in elke winkel Verban my met Flitslig
steel!” lag die Alfa-Brakketier, Vlam. En jy sal my sien draai en weghardloop!”
“Julle snap nie mooi nie. Hierdie pakkie spek is dié beste spek
in die wêreld. Dit kan baie bekke voer. As julle die spek vind, “Die maan kom uit in die aand en die son in die dag. Maar
sal ons dit as … 'n lokaas gebruik om rondloperbrakker uit die die son maak die dag. Die antwoord is donkerte!” jil Potjie.
strate te hou. Ons kan hulle uitlewer aan die DBV,” grinnik die “Hmm, ja … dis reg! Wel, julle kan die pakkie spek kry, al is
regter. dit beledigend om dit vir 'n paar honde te gee!”
Eers lyk dit of die Brakketiers nie hond haaraf kan maak nie, Die vyf Brakketiers kon die onweerstaanbare reuk van die
maar wil ook nie bek-af die stryd gewonne gee nie. pakkie nie weerstaan nie en het woes geveg om die draer
“Dit is so goed soos gedaan!” tjank die brakke in 'n koor. daarvan te wees. Twee honde baklei om 'n been en 'n derde
Weke lank berei die vyf Brakketiers hul voor vir hul strawwe gaan daarmee heen … sò Pampoen-Pitte het sy kans
opdrag. 'n Gerug het hulle hulle ore laat spits, en 'n sterk snuif waargeneem en flink daarmee weggedraf. Reguit na die
in die neus laat kry. Daar was glo 'n baie sterk reuk van spek wat regter toe.
by 'n verafgeleë grot rondhang …
Blitsig het hulle die grot uitgeruik en hals-oor-kop irisDie Kat-bees het alles ademloos gade geslaan en besluit om
binnegestorm, net om hulle tromp-op te loop teen 'n briesende
Kat-bees. Die vyf Brakketiers se hare het gerys, maar het braaf maar liewers nie slapende honde wakker te maak nie …
Ten einde laaste is baie honde die haas se dood, en die
girls high theblyblaf. Kat-beesweetegterdatblaffendehondeniebytnie. begeerde pakkie spek veilig in die regter se pote.

Mandisa Zulu Grade 11 Melissa Greyling Grade 10

The Iris134 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint Afrikaans

Die regter het, tipies Labrador, sy stert uit tevredenheid
geswaai en die vyf Brakketiers vrygespreek. En sonder om
nou spek te skiet – die einste pakkie spek het weliswaar die
hawelose straatbrakke veilig aan die DBV besorg.
En die vyf Brakketiers?
Die vreeslose redders van die nou-al berugte pakkie spek, het
rare, roemryke ridders geword!
Cassandra Pringle Graad 11

Die tweede John Travolta Photo: Nicole Liebenberg Grade 8

Dié storie begin laat een Vrydagaand met my konserwatiewe Die maanlig weerkaats wispelturig
Pa wat voor die televisie lê en vierkantige oë kry van nuus kyk. Op die oppervlakte van die kalm see
Ek het aspris stadig voor hom verby geloop tot hy my met En ontbloot die naakte waarheid
glurende oë gevra het: “Hoekom lyk jy so mooi vanaand? Van stories en leuens vanmelee
Gaan jy weer na een van daardie vieslike plekke?”
“Ja, Pa, maar hierdie keer kom jy saam!” As ek sê hy het
blitsvinnig aangetrek, is dit nog steeds te stadig. Dit was asof
hy sy hele lewe vir daardie oomblik gewag het. Die eerste
ding wat ek gesien het toe hy uit die kamer uitloop, was sy
hare. Groot, swart, krullerige hare. Daarna die vonkelende
goue leerpak sonder moue… en 'n oop bors wat grys hare
wys! Met 'n groot, groen gordel en grasgroen skoene, het
Johannes Pieterse net soos John Travolta in Night Fever
gelyk!
Ek wou Pa wys dat diskoteke nie so sleg is nie. Toe ons by
Dropzone aankom, was ons skaars vir vyf minute binne toe
die verfoeilike liedjie Night Fever begin speel het. Ek het my
oë toegemaak en begin bid, want wat ek gehoop het, nie sou
gebeur nie … het gebeur.
My pa dans passievol in die middel van die kring. Ligte
weerkaats van my goue pa af terwyl hy sy hande op en af lig
soos 'n regte diskoteekkoning. Sy knieë beweeg van kant tot
kant, sy hare beweeg op en af, maar sy glimlag bly in een plek
geplak. Mense begin saam dans en my konserwatiewe pa
word die dansleier!
Ek was nog nooit in my lewe so verbaas nie, maar ek het
soveel pret gehad. Ons gaan nou gereeld uit, ek en my
outydse pa, en saam word ons die sterre van die diskoteke.
Diskoteke – die “vreeslike” plekke.
Chanté Southwood Graad 12

Eenvoudige Ewigheid Ver verby die skuimende golwe
Onder die diep blou-groen water

Daar is 'n gapende gat Lê my hart aan't skerwe

In my eensame hart Op die verlate sandbodem
Die verlange van my siel Van my lewe
Soos klere gehang op 'n wasgoeddraad Magdelie Barnard Graad 12
Strek tot by die horison
Vasgepen deur pennetjies van pyn My ma, die “ewige optimis.” Om my ma te beskryf, het jy 'n
goeie verbeelding nodig.
My MammaJy het my liefde roekeloos Stel jou voor, 'n middeljarige gestremde vrou op 'n
gemotoriseerde karretjie, paadjie op en paadjie af, tussen al
Op die skerp rotse gegooi die rakke deur. Dit is ons gesin (ek, pa en boetie) se
Waar dit mergelend uitgedroog het maandelikse nagmerrie en ons liewe ma se maandelikse
Soos bokkoms in die dorre son uitstappie winkels toe. Pick 'n Pay Hypermark het wye
paadjies – my ma kan lekker ry. Ons gesin loop stadig aan en
Agter die gordyne van my oë bid die hele tyd dat sy nie in mense, rakke, uitstalings van
In die donker kamer van verlange koppies en glase gaan vasry nie!
Skuil 'n bang wese
En bibber van die koue The Iris135PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

girlsAlleen,ophaareie,vervanjou

Viewpoint Afrikaans

Terwyl sy rondry, gesels sy altyd lekker met almal wat haar Die besoekers en die inwoners s'n. Lag-lag hardloop hulle

jammer kry en wil gesels. Terug in die kar vra sy altyd: “Het verby die fietsryers met hul blomme in die mandjies.

julle daardie man gesien? Hy het so wragties vir my ogies Die kabbeling van die water onder die Ponte Vecchio laat my

gemaak” – ons lê soos ons lag, want Ma is nie klein nie en ook tuis voel. Alhoewel dié smeulende aanloklikheid so ver van

nie kort nie. Maar … sy het 'n hart so groot soos 'n Jo-Jo-tenk die normale lewe is, voel ek asof ek daar hoort. Die reuk van

vol liefde. die leermark, die rooi smaak van Cianti en die glimlag op die

Wat ons natuurlik teen die muur uitdryf, is my Ma se obsessie trappe voor Santa Croce wat aarbeie aan my probeer verkoop,

met koekbak. Elke Vrydagoggend bak sy twee-en-sewentig verlei my. Hierdie is my plek, my David, my Mona Lisa, my

sjokolade kolwyntjies, maar my probleem is dat my broer en “La Dolce Vita”.

sy “pelle” alles verslind voor ek by die huis aankom en my Louise Clark Grade 12

arme pa kla oor die elektrisiteitsrekening. Ma het ook al
gesondheidbeskuit gebak sonder suiker.

‘n Groot OngelukBuiten my ma se optimisme, kom ek ook baie keer in haar

kamer in en dan sit sy daar op die bed en huil haar hart uit. Sy Na daardie tragiese Saterdag was dinge in die Ndlovu huis in

sê: “Jy sal moet help. Ek kry myself nou so jammer, ek dink Kliptown nooit weer dieselfde nie en daar was geen hoop dat

ons moet nou stad toe ry, Binnelandse Sake toe, dan kan ek Matlakala se eensaam lewe in die klein RDP huis ooit beter

my naam gaan sou word nie.

verander na Daardie

Martie Martelgat!” Saterdagoggend

Ten spyte van alles was 'n gewone een

… is ek SO lief vir met die besige

my Mamma. geluide van

Mickaelé Yssel vrouens wat dorp

Graad 12 toe gaan om niks

vir hulle kinders te

koop nie en die

getoet van die

taxibestuurder se

“La Dolce Vita ” onveilige
doodsmotors.

Die grintstraat se Sipho was ook sy

blokkiesraaisel gewone self met

neem my met 'n groot glimlag op

'n frenetiese pas sy gesig en stories

na 'n unieke van sy drome om

sinsbegogeling in 'n groot huis te

van kleur en bly en die nuutste

towerkuns. Daar CLK 280 te hê en

is 'n ou vrou met 'n om sy eie

handgehekelde klerewinkel,

kombers oor haar SIPHO

skouers, 'n CREATIONS®,

herinnering van 'n te besit. Die

droom wat lankal Riki Papaspyrou Grade 12 enigste verskil
nie meer nodig is tussen daardie

nie. Ek is in my agste hemel, alleen, maar nie eensaam nie, Saterdag en die ander dae was dat Joseph van sy werk in die

hier in Piazza del Signoria, Firenze. myne tuisgekom het.

Michelangelo praat deur die standbeelde wat die plein soos “Matlakala, wat sal Joseph vir my bring?” het Sipho

engele omring. Hulle verstaan die passievolle begeertes van opgewonde gevra.

die straatkunstenaar se siel. Hulle sien die somber kleur van “Moenie iets groots verwag nie. Jy weet dat na Mamma en

die man, met die sigaret, se gemoed, soos 'n klip in sy hart. Pappa se dood dit net Joseph is wat vir ons sorg. Miskien sal

Dalk sien hulle my ook. hy vir jou nuwe skoene bring. God weet dat jy hulle nodig het

Die kerktoring se klok roep na die sondaar terwyl Da Vinci se noudat dit winter gaan word.”

vliegmasjien in my gedagtes rondwarrel. Die weelderige Die hele dag het Sipho by die hek gestaan en wag en soms oor

gordyne van die straatkafee speel met die wind terwyl die die hek geloer om te kyk of hy vir Joseph kan sien. Die

smokkelende reuk van koffie my sintuie aantas. Die oggend het middag geword en die middag het laatmiddag

hanswors se verbeeldingryke vertoning laat 'n glimlag oor my geword.

gesig strek en die donker gat van verwarring verlaat my. “Sipho, jy gaan siek word van die koue!” het Matlakala geroep.

Ek gaan sit op die bank voor Botticello Kafee en sien hoe die “Nee, ek wag vir Joseph. Hy sal nou hier wees, ek weet hy sal.

stralende geluk oor almal toesak. Kinders koop maskers by Dan gaan ek hom van alles wat hy gemis het, vertel,” en asof

die straatverkoper en speel in die fontein. Hulle is almal se Joseph hom gehoor het, het hy Joseph bo in die straat sien

kinders. naderkom.

The Iris136 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint Afrikaans

Sipho het die hek vinnig oopgestoot en sonder om te dink, kursus loop, sal sy seker maak dat sy genoeg tyd vir haar
het hy die straat ingehardloop na Joseph toe. stokperdjies het. Sy geniet geselskap en sjokolade.
Toet! Sjokolade! Haar grootste gier is ook haar grootste hartseer.
'n Motorbestuurder toeter. Die aaklige geluid van bande wat Sy haat 'n vet lyf soveel as wat sy kruideniersware-inkopies
skree en stof vul die lug en laat die son donker raak. Mense haat.
skreeu, die ander hardloop na hulle hekke toe terwyl die Daarna droom sy van 'n suksesvolle loopbaan met genoeg
geluid van gebreekte glas in die lug eggo en jong bloed die geld wat sommer soos reëndruppels uit die hemel in haar
teer bloedrooi kleur. hande val. Met hierdie geld sal sy die wêreld ontdek. Sy sal
Vir 'n minuut is daar 'n ongelooflike stilte. vreemde plekke besoek en met allerhande tandlose
Matlakala kom by hulle huis se deur uit. Sy skreeu! Joseph oumense en kindertjies vriende maak en vir hulle
hardloop na Sipho. Hy skreeu! persentjies gee.
Die stof sak. Die son skyn weer normal. Daar is geen geluid Dit is die weerkaatsing van die toekoms. Maar wat doen
van bande, geen bestuurder wat toeter, g'n mens wat hierdie meisie vandag? Sy is lief vir die skool, veral
skreeu nie. wanneer sy goeie punte kry. Haar geliefkoosde sport is
Sipho is dood … swem, maar haar passie lê in 'n veel meer dramatise arena –
Joseph tel hom op en hardloop, maar dit sal nie help nie. sy is 'n gebore aktrise. Sy voel heel tuis in 'n sitplek by die
Daardie groot drome, daardie breë glimlag, daardie bruin teater met haar glansende oë gefikseer op die toneel voor
engeloë sal nooit weer terugkom nie. haar. Sy verkies egter om self op die verhoog te wees, waar
Dit is die harde waarheid. die gehoor klou aan elke woord wat sy sê. Sy is ook lief vir
Amo Mpiriane Graad 12 heerlike kos en kan self baie goed kos kook. Moet net nie
vir haar vra om daarna die skottelgoed te was nie!
My gunstelingplekkie Wie is daardie weerkaatsing in die spieël? Die babbelende
blondine met 'n honderd paar skoene in haar kas. Die
Die wind dreun verby my ore. Ek vee my hare uit my ernstige skolier wat teddiebere versamel en 'n
waterige oë wat agter my pienk sonbril weggesteek word. hartstogtelike liefhebber van katte is. Wie is sy?
Die son bak op my warm lyf. My sproetgesig is nat. Ek proe Die weerkaatsing in die spieël … dis ek!
sout. Onder my suis die bande met die ritme van my hart. 'n Natalie Milroy Graad 12
Energierivier vloei deur my hele liggaam. Ek is in my
gunstelingplekkie – die saal van vrede, vreugde en vryheid. Janine Pieterse Grade 12
Ek is alleen, maar nie eensaam nie. Voor my blink die son op
die lang, verlate grys pad wat na 'n heuwel in die verte lei. My The Iris137PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS
bene stoot eentonig, soos 'n trein, om aan te gaan. Langs die
pad waai die gras. Perdeblomme dans lewendig in die
briesie. 'n Klein, sagte stemmetjie in die wind moedig my
aan.
Iemand kom nader … 'n man! Hy is oud en ervare en hy dra
'n kakiebroek en 'n bruin trui. Sy donker vel is bejaard. Hy
het 'n silwer baard en 'n dun snor. 'n Kleurvolle hooftooisel
sit gemaklik op dié vreemdeling se kop. “Goeie Middag,”
groet hy toe ek blitsig verby hom ry. Sy glimlag vertoon 'n
oorvloedige ry tande. Ek het in sy openhartige oë die vrede
van 'n waarlik tevrede persoon gesien.
Ek ry weg van die probleme en die verwarring van 'n
vermoeide lewe. 'n Plekkie wat vir my spesiaal en anders is.
Dit is nie my kamer of die badkamer nie. My plekkie is nie 'n
plek van stilte, rus of sagte strelende musiek nie. Dit is 'n
plek waar stof, sweet en harde oefening oorheers.
My fiets, my vryheid.
Jody Mallinson Graad 12

Meisie in die spiee..l

Wie is daardie weerkaatsing in die spieël? Haar gesig
vertoon 'n ingewikkelde maar interessante uitdrukking. Dit
simboliseer 'n fontein van gedagtes. Haar neutbruin oë
glinster met die warmte van die vuur in haar hart en skitter
met die helder trane van haar sensitiewe siel. Wie is daardie
weerkaatsing in die spieël? Wat is haar drome, haar talente?
Wat maak haar gelukkig, wat maar haar uniek?
Sy gee my 'n spottende glimlag. Sy weet wat die antwoord is.
Sy sal Kaapstad toe gaan en Media, Film en Engels studeer.
Terwyl sy by die Universiteit van Kaapstad haar vierjaar

Viewpoint Sepedi

CreatSiveepeWdiriting

Taba ye e nkwisitsego bohloko

Taba ye e nkwišitšego bohloko
Nagana fela, konyana ye e se nago molato e bolawa. Lefelo
leo ke le ratago kudu Afrika Borwa le tletše ka batho bao ba
nago le lehloyo le legolo le dintwa. Le ge Afrika Borwa e le
naga ye botse kudu batho ba bangwe ba ba dulago lefelong le
ba a e bodiša. Makgabo Bernice Matlala, ngwana wa
mengwaga ye mene o kwele bohloko bjo bogolo bjo bo ka se
lekantšhwego le selo. Yena o be a dutše le mohlokomedi wa
gagwe Rebecca Ngoepe wa mengwaga ye
masomehlanoseswai ka di 8 Matšhe 2006, Makgabo o
bolailwe gomme Rebecca a katwa ke banna ba bararo. A naa
ga o swabe o bolaya ngwaneno, wa fetša wa hlokofatša
mmagwe

Go kwala gore banna ba pele ba bolaya Makgabo ba mmofile Palesa Leopeng Grade 12
ka thapo ya mohlagase gomme ba mo kgama ka borokgo bja
tatagwe. Go fetšeng ga bona ba tšea DVD, mabonakgole, ba itheta ba sa fetše. Bona ba amogelwa ka lethabo ka ge ba
seyalemoya, le tše dingwe. Potšišo ke gore ke ka lebaka la eng feditše dikgwedi tše tharo ba le nageng. Ba ipotša gore ke
batho ba sa nyake mešomo gore ba kgone go ithekela dilo bona banna gomme ba dira mediro ya bonna. Setšo se botse!
tšeo. Ke ka lebaka la eng ba sa tšea tšeo ba di nyakago ba Setšo ke lehumo! Mašupeng go a boelwa! Ke tšhaba baditi!
sepela. Nnete ke gore le ge re ikgantšha ka Afrika Borwa, Lebogang Mathenje Grade 12
babolai ba dira gore batho ba hloye naga ya borena ka tšeo ba
di dirago nageng ye. Naa lena babolai matswalo a lena a kae? Setso sa Bapedi
A le ke le e pee mo seemong sa bahlobogi. Na go senyegile
kae? Naa Modimo le Badimo ba re furaletšeng. Setšhaba, Setšhaba sa Bapedi se hlolegile Profenseng ya Limpopo.
gopolang gore mohlare o kobja o sa le nanana. Lefapha la Bapedi ba bušitšwe ke kgoši Sekhukhuni yo go kwalago gore
maphodisa le toka swaranang. A re lwantšheng bosenyi. o be a elwa le Maisimane ao a bego a nyaka go mo tšeela naga.
Lindiwe Masina Grade 12 Setšhaba sa Bapedi ke Setšhaba seo se bego se hlompha
dikoma. Bašemane le basetsana ba be ba swanetše go bolla
Sealoga gore e tle e be banna le basadi. Yoo a bego a sa bolle o be a
bitšwa lethumaša goba lešoboro gomme a nyatšwa
Ge mahube a thoma go phatlola phoka, bakgalabje ba be ba setšhabeng. Ge go rerišwana melato, bao bas a welago ba be
šetše ba feafea kua šakeng la dikgomo. Dikgomo tšona di be ba sa dumelelwa go ba moo kopanong.
di sa hlwe di ipshina ka boroko bja masa. Lehono go tlo aloga
dikokotla tša masogana. Tšatši la ge go aloga koma ke letšatši Bapedi e be e le batho ba go rata leruo le go lema. Banna ba be
la mokete o mogolo. Ke letšatši leo dihlopa tša dibini di tlogo ba hlokomela mehlape ya bona ba thušwa ke bašemane.
kopana ka lona. Di bina ka lethabo di thabetše gore bao ba Basadi bona ba thušwa ke basetsana gomme mošomo wa
bego ba bitšwa bašemane bjale ke masogana. Kua thabeng
tšhimane ye tshese e theoga thaba go bonala meretlwa go iwa
fase le godimo. Le kua morago go bonala seralala sa muši wa
mphato wo o swago.

Bašemane ba apere makgeswa a phadima ka fase ga letsoku
bjalo ka namane ya sethole ka ngwaga wa pula. Ge o ka bona
banna ba okamišeditše dihlogo fase o tsebe gore o mongwe
wa bona o meditšwe ke mphato. Ba gabo bona ba tla
gahlanetšwa ke sekotlelo mo seferong sa motse. Masogana a
sepela ka go ikgantšha a ipona e le dipoo. Ba thuntšha lerole

The Iris138 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint Sepedi

bona e be e le go lema le go nyaka dikgong tša go gotša mollo.
Bjala bo be bo nwewa ke batho bao ba gotšego. Bapedi ke
batho ba go rata koša. Banna ba be ba bina dinaka gomme
basadi ba hlakela. Bašemanyana mošomo wa bona e be e le go
tsoma diphoofolo nageng. Ke go go bose bjang go bona
batho ba tseba setšo sa bo bona ebile ba se etišitše pele
Lenah Bapela Grade 11

Ke a gopola, ee ke gopola ka la 14 Desemere 2005 ke na le Lebo Mahlare Grade 11
mengwaga ye 18. Ke be ke le maratong. Thabo o mpoditše
gore o a nthata le nna ka ipotša gore ke a mo rata ke sa tsebe Morago ga nakwana ka bitšwa bookelong, ba mpotša gore ke
gore lerato ke eng. Gwa fihla letšatši la 15 Desemere. Rato wa na le HIV, ke be ke sa tshepe, ke lla, ke ikwa o kare bomma ga
ka o ile a kgopela gore re sepele mmogo ka la 16 Desemere e ba nthate, ke bona bophelo bo mphetogetše. Ke ile ka gopola
lego letšatši la poelano. A mpotša gore ke botše bomma gore mantšu a bomma a gore: “monate ga o fele go fela motho”.
ke ya gabo mogwera wa ka . Aowa bomma ba dumela ka ge ba Seo se ra gore ge batswadi ba bolela le rena re ba theeletše ka
be ba ntshepa ditsebe tše pedi.
Isabella Madiba
La fihla letšatši. Ke be ke thabile ke sepela le lerato la pelo ya
ka. Re ile go fihla a re go nna a re ye phapošing re ye go itsheba
gomme a mpotšiša gore ke a mo rata. Ke ile ka dumela, a
mpotša a re: “ mpontšhe ka go robala le nna”. Ke ile ka robala
le yena ka gore ke be ke tšhaba gore o tla ntlhala.

Go fetile dikgwedi di se kae ka kwa ke sa ikwe gabotse. Ke
lwala, ke sellega ebile ke dikologa. Mma o ile a nkiša
bookelong gore ba ntlhahlobe ba bone go re molato ke eng.
Ke ile ka tšewa diteko. Go boeng ga ka bookelong ke ile ka ya
go hlola Thabo. Ge ke fihla gagabo ba ile o na le kgwedi a
sepetše ebile ga a sa boa. Ke be ke befetšwe, pelo e le bohloko.

Stella Kibuuka Grade 11

The Iris139PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint French

CreatiFverenWcrhiting

Les stereeotypes heure!) et je me suis endormie très tard, (à vingt heures trente)
pour préparer le dessert parfait. Puis, le lendemain, Noël, tout
Il y a plusieurs stéréotypes que les gens ont de la France et de le monde a mangé du poulet, des pommes de terres, de la salade
son peuple. Tout le monde pense que les Français sont et des légumes de 'mon repas', et puis, après ça, le grand dessert.
parmis les meilleurs cuisiniers du monde. Ils mangent au Devinez alors ce qui s'est passé? Le dessert, des bananes avec
moins cinq repas par jour et chaque repas a un minimum de de la confiture des fraises est arrivé bien sûr! Ma famille a
cinq plats. C'est aussi connu que tous les repas sont mangé tout ce dessert bizarre avec des sourires et grâce à cela, je
accompagnés de vin (même le petit déjeuner) car le Français n'oublierai jamais ce Noël incroyable!
est un grand buveur de vin; apparament même tous les Phakama Botha Grade 12
enfants boivent du vin comme si c'était du jus d'orange.
La Française typique est grande de taille et très mince. C'est La liberte
pour cela que quand une Africaine fait ses achats à Paris, elle a
des difficultés à en trouver de sa taille. La Française est La liberté pour moi, c'est l'enfance. On est vraiment libre
bavarde! En général, les Français sont des romantiques quand on est très jeune, avant d'aller à l'école.
éperdus qui adorent les chansons d'amour, les poèmes et les Tant qu'on est étudiant on n'est pas libre. Les professeurs, les
longues promenades le long de la plage en pleine nuit. C'est tests, les devoirs nous emprissonnent. Et lorsqu'on va à l'école
pour cela que le français est la langue de l'amour. on doit aussi faire aussi les travaux de ménage. Moi, je range ma
Je ne suis pas tellement d'accord avec cette description des chambre et je fais la vaiselle! C'est terrible!
Français comme s'ils étaient un peuple parfait! Quels sont Mais lorsqu'on est enfant on peut dormir toute la matinée et
leurs aspects positifs et leurs défauts? Tout le monde sait tout l'après-midi, si cela lui plaît. Le coeur est content des
qu'un peuple 'parfait' n'existe pas! petites choses commes des bonbons ou un nouveau ballon.
À mon avis, un Sud-africain 'typique' n'existe non plus. On peut aussi jouer toute la journée si on veut.
Pourquoi j'affirme cela? Simplement parce que l'Afrique du Les enfants eux, ils ont la confiance dont je suis jalouse. À la
Sud a trop de cultures différentes. Il y a des noirs, des blancs, maison ou à la plage ils courent tout nus. Lorsqu'on est jeune,
des rouges, et des jaunes. Il y en a qui parlent l'anglais, on peut demander des questions intéressantes comme
l'afrikaans et il y a en a qui parlent plusieurs d'autres langues «Pourquoi le ciel est-il bleu?» ou « Pourquoi faut-il que je prenne
africaines. Tous ces gens ont de différentes cultures, cuisine, un bain?»
tenue, apparence et langue, alors c'est presque impossible de Les enfants croient que tout est possible. Ils se passionnent
faire un seul portrait d'un Sud-Africain typique. Une chose pour toutes les acitivités artistiques.
que tous les Sud-Africains ont en commun c'est un amour Quand on est jeune, on s'amuse bien aux anniversaires, il ne
profound du soleil africain, du Cap, du boerewors et de leur pleut pas parce qu'on a âgé! Les cadeaux, ça donnent beaucoup
pays bien-aimé! de plaisir! Et on ne se dispute pas avec ses parents. On les
Françoise Goga Grade 12 adore!
Cette liberté, j'y aspire, c'est sûr!
Souvenirs d enfance Taheera April Grade 12

Mon enfance est une époque très spéciale de ma vie et dont je Sijetais un extra-terrestre...
garde beaucoup de souvenirs sympas. En voilà un …
Ce souvenir est de Noël. Je crois que j'avais plus au moins Si j'étais un extra-terrestre j'habiterais sur Saturne parce que
huit ans. J'étais à Port Elizabeth avec ma mère chez ma tante. c'est la plus jolie planète. J'aurais de grands yeux rouges et mon
Tous mes cousins y étaient, avec tous leurs parents, donc la corps serait recouvert de longs poils noirs. J'aurais de grandes
maison étaient pleine de bruit. ailes pour voler autour de ma planète et j'habiterais dans un
La veille de Noël cette année-là moi, j'avais décidé que je château fait de glace. On n'utiliserait pas d'argent sur ma
voulais préparer le repas pour la famille, tout le groupe de planète, tout serait gratuit! Il y aurait des magasins tout autour
vingt-deux pesonnes! Ma tante m'a aidée un petit peu avec le de ma planète avec des vêtements gratuits pour tout le monde.
repas. Elle a préparé seulement du poulet, des pommes de L'école n'existerait pas parce que tout le monde serait très
terres, de la salade et des légumes. Mais moi, j'ai préparé le intelligent. Comme la vie serait belle si j'étais un extra-terrestre!
dessert, le plus important. Eléonore Haupt Grade 12
J'ai donc travaillé pendant des heures (justement un demi-

The Iris140 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint French

Un reve inoubliable Bonjour. Je m'appelle Sofía Louisa Zway. Je suis sud-africaine
et écudorienne. Je suis la fille de Monsieur et de Madame
Hier soir, j'ai eu un rêve incroyable. Un tapis volant m'a fait un Zway. J'ai une soeur. Elle s'appelle Maia. Elle a dix-sept ans.
voyage splendide! D'abord, je suis allée à Milan en Italie. J'ai J'ai n'ai pas de frères. J'ai deux chiens, Jessie et Pickle, et un
fait du shopping – je cherchais des chaussures et des vêtements chat. Il s'appelle Leonardo de Tigger. J'ai quatorze ans. Mon
chic. C'était magnifique! J'adore les vêtements italiens. anniversaire c'est le 21 décembre. J'aime le français!
Plus tard, j'ai rencontré une ancienne amie et nous sommes Sofie Zway Grade 8
allées à Jamaïc pour nous bronzer sur la belle plage blanche!
Puis, nous avons volé par-dessus l'océan et nous avons visité Je voudrais réserver une chambre
les pyramides en Egypte. C'était très joli! Alors nous sommes Réceptionniste: (Trang! Trang!) L'hôtel Hilton à Paris. Ici Sofi.
allées en Grande Bretagne où nous avons visité ma famille en
Ecosse et en Irlande où nous avons trouvé un leprechaun et Mme Oates: Bonjour. Je m'appelle Mme Oates. Je voudrais
son pot d'or! réserver une chambre pour deux personnes pour le week-end
Plus tard, nous sommes allées en Espagne où nous avons du 3 et 4 novembre. C'est possible?
dansé toute la nuit! Hélas, mon amie a disparu donc je suis
partie d'Espagne et je suis retournée en Italie. J'ai rencontré un Réceptionniste: Oui, c'est possible, Madame. Le 3 et 4
bel Italien mais quel dommage, à ce moment-là, je me suis novembre … J'ai une chambre avec bain pour deux personnes.
réveillée chez moi. Quel rêve inoubliable!
Katherine Hekma Grade 10 Mme Oates: Bon, Mais, je voudrais une chambre avec bain et
W-C.
Hier après-midi à 17 heures un incendie a éclaté à l'école. On
te soupçonne – c'est toi, la coupable? Quel en est ton alibi? Réceptionniste: Une chambre avec bain et W-C … très bien
Madame. J'ai une chambre avec bain et W-C.
Ce n'était pas moi, la coupable, parce que … Hier, à onze
heures, je me suis dépêchée en voiture parce qu j'étais en retard Mme Oates: Nous avons un chien et un chat. C'est permis?
pour l'église. À onze heures cinq, je suis arrivée à Randburg
pour le culte. À douze heures trente, j'ai acheté un hamburger, Réceptionniste: Le chien, bien sûr, Madame. Mais le chat n'est
des frites en un coca à McDo; c'est près de Randburg. À treize pas permis.
heures cinq, je suis montée en voiture et à quatorze heures, je
suis entrée à l'église d'où je suis sortie à dix-sept heures. À dix- Mme Oates: Bon. La chambre avec bain et W-C. pour deux
huit heures, je suis arrivée chez moi. Vous voyez, je n'étais personnes et un chien pour le week-end du 3 et 4 novembre.
même pas à Pretoria; comment est-ce que moi, j'étais la
coupable? Réceptionniste: Très bien, Madame Oates. Quelle est votre
Lebogang Moloisane Grade 10 numéro de telephone?

Ce n'était pas moi, la coupable, parce que … Hier, je suis Mme Oates: C'est le 20.17.84.06.
arrivée à l'hôpital avec ma famille à seize heures parce que ma
petite cousine est née. Puis nous sommes descendus pour Réceptionniste: Le 20.17.84.06. Très bien, Madame.
aller à la voiture. Quelle horreur! Je suis tombée! Et puis, à
quinze heures, nous sommes allées chez mon oncle parce que Mme Oates: Merci beaucoup!
ma tante est morte! Nous y avons déjeuné mais on était triste.
Nous y sommes restés pour une heure et puis nous somme Réceptionniste: De rien, Madame! Au revoir.
remontés dans notre voiture pour rentrer chez nous. Je me
suis douchée à vingt-deux heures et puis je me suis couchée. Sofia Zway et Aimee Oates Grade 8
Alors, vous voyez, ce n'était pas moi, la coupable!
Roxanne Malan Grade 10

Ce n'était pas moi, la coupable, parce que … Hier à 16h45 je Photo: Claire Gritten Grade 11
suis sortie de chez moi. Je suis arrivée chez mon amie à 16h50.
À 17h09 son poisson, Miou-Miou, est mort parce qu'il est The Iris141PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS
tombé par terre. Mon amie n'a pas souri hier. Je suis restée
chez elle. Pour le dîner à 17h30, nous avons pris du poisson.
Quelle horreur! Je vous assure que je ne suis pas la coupable!
Bea Hubbard Grade 10

Bonjour! Je suis Carmin Jansen van Vuuren. J'ai treize ans.
Mon anniversaire c'est vendredi le treize octobre. J'ai un frère.
Je suis sud-africaine. Je suis la fille de Monsieur et de Madame
Jansen van Vuuren. Bonne vacances! Au revoir.
Carmin Jansen van Vuuren Grade 8

Viewpoint German

CreaGtiveremWanriting

Bedrohte Tieraten weigern und die Umwelt nicht verschmutzen. Diese Tiere
brauchen unsere Hilfe, vor dem es zu spät ist.
Tiger, Panda, Gorillas Anita Gioia Grade 12
Diese sind nur drei von den vielen bedrohten Tierarten in der
Welt. Es ist traurig zu denken, dass der hauptsächliche Umweltverschmutzung – ein internationales Problem
Grund für den Tod von diesen Tieren, Leute sind. Nimm
Seehunde zum Beispiel. Baby Seehunde haben schöne, Ja, Umweltverschmutzung ist ein grosses Word für ein
weiche Pelze und werden deshalb in einigen Ländern für die grosses Problem, das heute praktisch die ganze Welt bedroht.
Pelze getötet. Weil sie Fische fressen, töten einige Fischer Es ist ein internationals Problem, da jeder Mensch auf der
Seehunde. Sie glauben, dass sie dann mehr Fische fangen Erde auf seine Weise mit zu dem Schaden beiträgt, der durch
werden. Sie werden auch für ihren Speck getötet, weil ser oft die Verschmutzung verursacht wird. Das grosse Problem
gebraucht wird Seife zu machen. Verschmutzung tötet auch besteht aus vielen kleineren Teilen, die unsere Luft, den
viele Tiere. Und wer verursacht Verschmutzung? Leute. Boden und unser Wasser schädigen.
SchneeLeoparden wohnen hoch in den Bergen in Asien und Die Verschmutzung besteht unter, über, an, auf, hinter,
Russland, aber eben hier sind sie in Gefahr. Sie werden auch neben, in, vor und zwischen uns. Mit anderen Worten,
wie die Seehunde für Pelze getötet. Die Chinesen brauchen überall, und hat grosse Folgen auf Menschen, Tiere und
die Körperteile von den Schnee Leoparden um Medizen zu Pflanzen. Sie wird durch viele Sachen verursacht, zum
machen. Deshalb werden diese Körperteile auf dem Beispiel: Industrie, Autos, Flugzeuge und vieles andere.
Schwarzmarkt verkauft. Leider klappt diese Medizen eben Leider merken die grossen Umweltsünder es gar nicht und
nicht. damit schaden sie der Umwelt. Darum müssen wir etwas tun,
Da sind sechs Meerschildkrötenarten die in den Ozeanen der um unsere Umwelt zu retten, vor dem es zu spät ist. Wenn wir
Welt wohnen. Alles sind Opfer von Verschmutzung und wirklich etwas dafür tun dann werden viele Dinge in unserem
Fremdenverkehr. Land besser werden und die Menschen können dann friedlich
Die Liste von bedrohten Tierarten geht noch weiter. Um zusammen leben.
diesen Tieren zu helfen um zu überleben, kann man eine Marcelle Kingsley Grade 12
Wohlfahrtseinrichtung stützen, grausame Andenken

Photos: Anita Gioia Grade 12

The Iris142 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Viewpoint German

Geschreiben nach dem Gedicht: Faulenzen von Josef Reding

Laufen

Manchmal möchte
Man
Laufen
Wie ein
Verlorener Hund
Nach Hause,
Wie ein Gepard
Im Busch,
Wie ein Internatsschüler
Zum
Essen.
Josephine Hamman Grade 10

Springen
Wie ein
Hampelman
Aus einer
Schachtel
Wie ein Kind
Im Kinderbett
Wie ein Hund
Für einen Knochen
Inge Saayman Grade 10

Claire Gritten Grade 11

Amanda Kandawire Grade 11 The Iris143PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Prefects’ Induction

Happenings

Prefects’ Induction

The Iris144 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Aitken Jersey Display

Happenings

Jersey Display

Athlone Buxton Clarendon

Connaught Duncan Gladstone

McWilliam Selborne van Zyl

The Iris145PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Grade 8 Camp

Happenings

Inter-house Gala

Happenings

The Iris147PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS

Inter-high Gala

Happenings

Inter-high Gala

The Iris150 PHSG 1902-2006 • THE IRIS