Its not a Vacation, its a Study Week

Whatever you decide to call it, ahead of me lies a week of not having to attend university. A well deserved break from tests and assignments and everything else that fills my life with a sense of purpose. Oh, and a break from the crickets.

A little more than a week ago a plague of Biblical proportions hit the Western Cape. Apparently an unusual warm winter/summer (?) caused the local cricket populace to procreate like there is no tomorrow. The result? Millions of new crickets now have flooded towns in the Provence, including everybody's favourite little university town Stellenbosch. The Red Square was blackened by the little insects, shrubbery seems to serenade to you and lecture halls, computer rooms and even the cinema housed any amount of these musical little beasts. Although I am still quite far on the right side of sanity, other people weren't quite as fortunate. My only complaint is that the sweet sound of crickets chirping in the night time has somewhat been cheapened by the abundance. The glow of a computer screen in a dark room is no substitute for a log fire, but that doesn't stop you feeling completely out of environment with a cricket in the back of the room. Like my one friend said in the cinema, all we now need are some lions to complete the experience...

I have sleeping, partying and studying to do. These are the (nearly unique) luxuries of next week.

Milk goes Sour and Bees Sting

“... What I do has been referred to as wanton slaughter.” – HK Assassin Droid

I have this huge chip on my shoulder when I admit to someone that I live in the Cape in South Africa; I am immensely proud of it. Dealing with people over seas every now and then, I derive much pleasure tempting them with photos and descriptions of the land, the weather and the people. While talking to these people, in my head, I often go where they are as I in turn indulge in descriptions from lands far away. It has come to the point that I am sometimes numb to the local vices.

But there is a reason why there are some many South Africans over seas. It is not only racial issues, issues with trying to apply your trade and the lure of adventure that robs the cradle. There is another reason: crime.

And the complaint isn’t as diminutive as petty theft or excessive burglary.

Yesterday I realized for the first time that, for almost every day of this week, there has been some shooting somewhere that made the news. One was at a hospital where an prison guard was killed while keeping an eye on a prisoner. The bulk of not only the patients, but also the staff where left with some sort of trauma.

I admit that, over the years, I have become a cold person. Stories like these are as fleeting as news of a new world record or a visit from a head of state and (often less interesting). Acts of violence doesn’t alarm me anymore (I must admit it rarely has in the past as well). Only one bit of news grabbed me and shook me at the core.

On Wednesday, a graduate student who studied at the same university as I was brutally murdered in her flat. We attended the same school, but she was a few years me senior. I never knew her and I must admit that hearing her name after five years I could only recognize the name without any meaning attached to it. The fact is that she was brilliant and was one of the top students in the country. Time had removed this significance from me, as I had seen many come and go in the years.

So why does the news of this girl’s murder upset me? This girl who I never knew and could barely recall? I don’t know. Perhaps it was seeing her graduation photo on the newspaper’s front page flanked by a description of the brutality of her murder. But then, I felt shaken before I had even seen the paper. Perhaps I feel some connection over such an insignificant coincidence like me seeing her complete her school career. Whatever the reason, I cannot reconcile the pretty girl’s picture with the terror her last moments held. I find myself imaging the utter terror and helplessness she felt as she was stabbed repeatedly.

What makes me even more sick, both ways, is that there is no immediate significance to her murder. For almost two decades I have heard stories of people being killed for R50 or their cell phones or even for the lack of carrying a bounty. But this girl died with all the earthly belongings like a wallet and cell phone around her. There isn’t even signs of forced entry, the implication of which sends chills right through me.

It is no minor accomplishment to attract my attention from outside whatever self-possessed hole I am in.

My prayers go out to her family. I pray for swift justice and the comfort and support needed, because a great void has been left.

Playing Pazaak in my Head

...switch the face of the +1/-1 card, the totals are nine-ten. Switch the face of the +2/-2 card, the total is eight-eleven. Switch...

I have recently realized that I am no longer alone with myself. Why I may be by myself, I am not alone. The radio is always on or some thought process is echoing through my head: preparations, planning, worrying, excitement.

So, of course, I’m hiding from something; shielding myself from something. From myself. I’m keeping thoughts out. Whether it is a nest of demons or an id I did not believe was so dominant, I don’t know. Who knows. It’s scary when there are questions no-one else can answer for you.

I also caught a glimpse of my super-ego this week, and I did not like it. It was much more immature than one would expect. But then, do I really have grounds for high expectations? I can’t even keep my behavior in check – primal instincts that make me sick. I must be better than this! I should be.

This is the battle I’ve been fighting all these years: to become a better person. Its all relative and subjective, but it might be time to re-evaluate ‘better’. It might be time again to open that Pandora’s Box that is my mind. Hopefully, in my box, the good spirits are also still trapped, waiting to escape and make everything better.

I am spirit; I live in a body and have a soul. I have an ego, far removed from the id, longing for the super-ego. We are all complexly intertwined.

The need for dependencies is strong. After all, we are all told we need them. I believe we don’t. For the most part, at least. Independence from people is a strange concept. They say no man is an island. Aren’t some of we, at least? It’s easy to be radical in a group. But when you stand alone...

On the other hand, is my quest for independence from people justified, or is it because I do not want to face the faults in my ego? The inherent flaws that form part of my personality? Can a person really change anything about him? I believe so. Just because its hard doesn’t give me the right to hide behind question marks like so many other people. The words of other people. Other people. But when you are alone...

Weathering Work and Cars

Autumn has dawned on the southern tip of Africa, but the drought, bush fires and plain heat that has characterized the summer of 2004/05 has not yet ceded. If anything, they’ve intensified. Although I appreciate any extension of warm weather, we need rain; not only to lift water restrictions but also help the agricultural sector. The irony has been widely recognized during the long past holiday: while the rest of the province has been washed away by floods, the Cape has escaped any great downpour and continues to thirst.

Varsity has been on now for just more than a month and the new year honeymoon period is passing away. Next week the first wave of preparatory tests will hit me like a brick wall. Despite this, I’ve taken this week pretty slow. I’ve mostly been recovering from whatever bug took a fancy in me, but also from the work that I did for Computational Physics. The next tut and project is already lined up, but praise for what I did with the first two from the lecturer eased away all the previous resentment. As shallow as it is, accolades like these are what I need from time to time to keep me going. Academically I currently don’t aspire to much, but when my efforts reap ripe rewards, they certainly are sweet.

I’ve finally resettled into the hum-drum of academia. Striking a balance between every thing that requires my attention is going to be the next step. A single diversion had, however, brought a sparkle to today: one of my friend’s friends had to borrow his dad’s car for today. Of course we had to convince him to give us a quick spin the Mercedes AMG CLS55! 8-) Oh, what a car! What a feeling! The sheer luxury of the interior and the perfect hum of the powerful engine lulls a person into a paralyzed comfort which makes the acceleration from 0 to 100km/h in 6 seconds feel as natural breathing. Unfortunately we were unable to experience top speed :-( , but even at 180km/h acceleration is blistering. This was quite a ride for a Mercedes Benz fan like myself. German perfection. ;-)

I have to go dream about a quite, low hum now.