Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Burning the Midnight Oil
It's 2:18 am and I'm sitting at my iBook eating fried chicken. I just can't fall asleep tonight, so websurfing and raiding the fridge seem to be my best options. The peace and quiet is doing my imagination good -- I came up with a great new slogan for work and found a way to tweak a logo that's 90% of the way there. Maybe I should pull a late-nighter more often...
Monday, November 28, 2005
Love Song
I just finished today's readings in Celtic Daily Prayer. I was particularly moved by today's psalm. When so many people insist on reading the Bible like it's an instruction manual, it's important be reminded that it's quite a beautiful piece of literature:
"How priceless is your unfailing love!
Both high and low among men
find refuge in the shadow of your wings.
"They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.
"For with you is the fountain of life;
in your light we see light."
Psalm 36:7-9 (New International Version)
"How priceless is your unfailing love!
Both high and low among men
find refuge in the shadow of your wings.
"They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.
"For with you is the fountain of life;
in your light we see light."
Psalm 36:7-9 (New International Version)
Half a loaf is better than none
Transplanted in the depths of my heart lies a hope for South Africa. Many times I heard missionaries speak about the colorful characteristics of this land. I even remember a young blond missionary girl coming to my school when I was in third grade. She showed us dazzling sarongs, ivory hand-carved animals and told us stories that drew my initial interest, but mostly because we were excused from math class in order to give her time to visit with our class. After a few minutes of storytelling and introductions, she opened her guitar case and started to sing.
The actual song and tune, I can’t remember. But the exact moment she started singing still plays like an old movie in the memory banks of my mind.
She had a look of such homesickness and love on her face as she sung about the beautiful people and places of South Africa. Her love for the county and its people planted a seed in my own heart. It was probably around 1979 or 1980 when she came to visit our little school in the hills of western Pennsylvania. Apartheid was never something she mentioned to us. Even if she had, I doubt if we would have been able to understand the wretchedness that went along with it. My innocent eyes had never seen, or have seen in my own life, the kinds violence and mindless limitation that apartheid placed upon so many South African’s lives. It was an American woman’ s song that called my heart towards South Africa, but it was a South African woman’s song that captured my heart.
*“Senzeni Na?
What have we done?
Sibozwa Nje?
To be so oppressed?
Sono sethu uba myama?
Are our crimes/sins that heinous?
Amabuna a yi zinja.
White policemen are dogs/unfeeling.
Vophu mthwala sigoduke.
Lets bear the burden of this life;
We haven’t far to go.”
*Sung a cappella and each line is repeated four times.
South African protest song from the 1980’s, sung by anti-apartheid demonstrators (p.16)
Miriam Mathabane grew up in South Africa during the dissolution of the Apartheid movement. Between the years of 1974 and 1993, Miriam grew up in Alexandria, South Africa. Bantu education (segregated black education) only served to teach the black children of South Africa the skills necessary to serving the European population of South Africa. Students learned a great deal about domestic science, sewing and gardening but were taught very little world history, biology and higher-level courses.
Previous to Bantu Education, there were a greater number of black teachers employed by primary schools. Before Apartheid, children’s education was performed by mission and church organizations and was proud to encourage all their students to learn and become successful members of society.
The government of South Africa enforced Bantu education because their leaders felt the mission and church schools were teaching subjects unnecessary to the black students. Dr. Verwoerd, the creator of Bantu Education said, “ I will have control of the native education. I will reform it so that natives will be taught from childhood to realize that equality with Europeans is not for them. There is no place for him (black child) in European society above the level of certain forms of labor…(pg 18)”
Instead of building up the individual student in order to produce doctors, lawyers and teachers; the Bantu system controlled the black population by limiting the depth and content of their education. Bantu education paralyzed independent spirit through bullying and physical punishment of students by Bantu teachers. Fear and terror were the earliest teachers of young Bantu students like Miriam Mathabane.
The early years of Miriam’s education revolved around the struggle of poverty and the affects of it upon an individual’s ability to learn. Cleanliness was a primary concern of Bantu instructors for their students. Hair must be combed, uniforms must be neat and clean, and fingernails must be trimmed neatly. The reality of poverty meant that Miriam’s family couldn’t afford the items necessary for her to arrive at school in proper attire or cleanliness. Students were beaten on a daily basis for arriving at school with their hair uncombed, nails untrimmed or bloomers torn. Children often fainted during classes due to lack of food for breakfast at home and lack of two rand that was necessary to purchase a peanut butter sandwich and watery skim powder milk for lunch. Miriam’s family added to the tension of pursuing an education, as her mother insisted she go because it was the only way to legally work someday when she was grown. Miriam’s father resented that the little money he did earn was spent on school supplies and hand me down uniform jumpers. The basics like running water, electricity and sewer systems were unattainable resources that were only repeated by the more basic needs of the day: food, water and evading neighborhood raids by the white police.
Random but regular raids were held in Alexandria to seek out and arrest blacks that did not have the proper documentation to be living and working in “White” South Africa. Miriam developed a great fear and hatred of white policemen as they regularly broke into her family’s two-room rented shack and arrested and beat up her parents for not carrying the proper documents to live in that city.
Consistent family supporting work was almost impossible for blacks to find in South Africa. It was necessary for all workers to carry a passbook and papers to be allowed to work in “white” South Africa. If a person did not have a job, they could not have papers. If they lost their job, they would be imprisoned. If they were imprisoned for not having papers in order, they would be dismissed from they job. If a person was discovered working in “white” South Africa without papers, they would be arrested and sent outside of the territory into “black” South Africa where there was no work and increased poverty.
European legislators placed impossible standards upon black South Africans, in order to ensure economic controls upon the parents and educational controls upon their children. Legislators thought that by limiting work and education, they would be guaranteed a dependent working class population with no hope for the future. When individuals like Steven Biko, Bishop Tutu or Nelson Mandela would speak out against Apartheid in order to give black South African’s hope: the government would arrest, imprison or kill such revolutionaries. Riots and violence were the result of the people’s hopes for freedom being lifted and dashed throughout the reign of Apartheid.
Even through all the hardships of Miriam’s life, she and her siblings fight to stay in school. Mama, a devout Christian prays for jobs for herself and her husband. Mama prays that her children stay in school and for her husband to stop drinking and gambling away his pay. Papa demands he wear the pants in the family and resists his wife’s Christian beliefs. He prefers to follow his tribal religion. Religious differences only add to the level of tension in Miriam’s household.
Johannes, her older brother, dedicated himself to school work, reading and tennis in hopes that someday he would come to the United States, go to university and buy a new home for his family in South Africa. People could not understand why a young South African man would want to read and speak English, play tennis and befriend whites. People thought that Johannes wanted to be white. Johannes was tormented by his peers and father because the traditional role of the eldest boy was to go to work as young as he could to help support his family. Johannes determination for earning his education made him a joke to the macho inhabitants of the ghetto of Alexandria.
The only people that seemed to understand Johannes intentions were his teachers, his mother, Miriam and eventually a college in South Carolina. Shortly after graduating from high school in Alexandria; Johannes started working in a bank and earned ten times the salary of his mother and father put together. He paid for his one sister to attend sewing school, all his siblings’ tuition and supplies for school, rent and groceries. Miriam was happy and dreams of becoming a nurse someday. Her hope of earning her education is fueled by Johannes’s success in school. Johannes seemed to be the savior of the family after all.
Johannes hard work and dreams are rewarded when he receives a letter from the United States, inviting him to attend a South Carolina University on a full tennis scholarship. He urges the family to speak to no one concerning his opportunity for fear of government interference and promises to send letters and money when he arrives in America. The birth of Johannes’s dream brings pressure from the community for all of Mama’s children to become the smartest, most accomplished children in Alexandria. But now that Johannes is gone to America, so are the material resources that made excelling in school possible. The burdens of poverty return to their home; making health care, income for family needs and the esteem of their community fade away from their lives. The specter of hope rarely shows itself through rare letters and small amounts of money sent from America. Johannes promises of supporting his sibling’s education are enough to keep Miriam in school, but the challenges of her daily life begin to slow and delay her educational progress.
Innocence is a quality that is quickly lost to the children of South Africa. Gambling causes parents to risk their small salaries in hopes of “making it big”. Parents overcome by depression and hunger drink away their incomes in order to dull their pain. The filth of the ghetto becomes worse as giant rats invade the neighborhood, drawn by the stench of open drains and raw sewage running throughout the ghetto. The rats bring disease to the already polluted community and attack children as they sleep on the floor of their two room shacks. While sleeping, rats chew the bottom of Miriam’s feet until they are raw and have to be wrapped in rags so she can continue to attend school. Miriam hates these bullies that attack her, but the human bullies cause her more conflict as she had been taught to always, “Turn the other cheek.” Only after speaking to he street-smart uncle does she grasp the necessity to protect herself. “Be like Christ in most things, but never allow people to walk all over you…Jesus never lived in Alexandria… you do.”(p. 129)
Bullies in Miriam’s world take on many appearances. Papa insists that Miriam and her siblings switch the language they are taking in school to his home dialect – Venda. She only has one year of primary school left, but she has to adapt her entire language in order to boost her father’s ego. Miriam passes her exams even with the added challenge. Miriam’s ability to be a hard worker, to submit to authority and be obedient challenges the necessity of self-defense against the bullies in her life. Everyone else seems so street-smart, she’s book-smart but wonders what will serve her survival the best. After five years, Johannes contacts the family and has sold his first book in America. He promises to pay for his siblings’ college costs with the proceeds he earns and Miriam’s hope in education is restored by Johannes’s promise, and she rededicates herself to her studies.
Escape from the ghetto and the violence of Apartheid was a luxury few residents were afforded. Miriam visits her Father’s homeland of Venda and is overwhelmed by the beauty of the remote area. Food is plentiful, she sleeps on a bed for the first time in her life and education and housing are offered to her if she only agrees to stay and help in her relative’s household. The offer of a new life is one many ghetto children would jump at, but Miriam’s devotion to her mother and homeland bully her back into a life of meager existence in Alexandria.
Political tensions in South Africa have continued to grow as Bishop Tutu is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his peaceful efforts against Apartheid. Miriam begins attending standard seven at Alexandria High School. Miss Jones, the school principal agrees that Bantu education is not the best, but encourages the students that, “ half a loaf, is better than nothing (p. 175)”. For six months, marches and demonstrations take place in the township of Alexandria, but the peaceful environment of Miriam’s safe school is rocked by shouting Comrades demanding the students join the cause or become labeled as traitors. People that refuse to participate in demonstrations are tortured by being necklaced: placing petrol soaked tire over the person’s head and shoulders and igniting the tire. Police retaliate against the Comrades with tear gas, beatings and shootings. Schools are closed in hopes of easing tensions. Tensions continue to grow as the white police, soldiers and various rebel groups scramble to control the actions of young black students. If a student wouldn’t participate in the demonstrations, they would be neckleced. If they were pressured into marching or attending night vigils for the cause, they ran the risk of being killed, injured, or arrested because of their participation.
Education was held captive to the cause of anti-apartheid. Exams were delayed or cancelled causing many students to fall further behind. Young girls were under more pressure to marry young during these lapses in school, because the dowry money was needed to support their struggling family. If the girls did not wed, many were violently raped and either contracted STD’s or became pregnant. After the rapes, men continued to pursue relationships with the girls in hopes that they would then marry them. This generation of South African children grew up with extreme violence. People often criticize their means of breaking down Apartheid, but violence begets violence. These children were witness and recipients of violence throughout their childhood, being subjected to beatings by parents, teachers and police. How would it be possible for them to act out and understand peaceful demonstration, if they had never seen or experienced personally.
In 1989, Nelson Mandela is released from prison and the celebrations in South Africa rock the townships. Unfortunately, shortly after his release the riots and shootings return and overtake the ghettos. Miriam’s schooling has been delayed by the political unrest in the past, but the personal unrest she is yet to experience places a next to impossible road block in her way.
Miriam meets Sabelo, a seemingly gentle, kindly young man and he accompanies her to vigils and occasional soccer games. One evening when a vigil turns to violence, Miriam agrees to go to Sabelo’s flat to find cover from the tear gas and gunfire. He gives her his bed and goes out to sleep in the living area, but in the midst of the far-away gunfire and the small hours of the night Sabelo forces himself upon Miriam. He rapes her, takes her virginity and steals away the moment of safety and peace she thought was hers. Miriam thinks, “If I’m pregnant my future is ruined (p. 227).”
Miriam’s fear of pregnancy, the delay of her education and disappointing her family are issues she is forced to deal with as she finds herself pregnant after Sabelo’s rape. The young women in this time and place are surrounded with crisis and violence and stay in relationships with the men that assault and rape them. Sabelo begs for forgiveness and promises to provide for his child. He desires to marry Miriam, but she refuses knowing that her education will never be completed if she marries so young.
The birth of her son in 1989, Sibusiso (meaning a gift from God), helps her to personally understand the limitations of becoming a single young mother in South Africa and reveals further evils of Apartheid. Miriam misses her exams, and her family’s first trip to the United States – provided by the success of Johannes first book. Her younger siblings go to America with her Mama and are able to stay in the states to attend school there. Had she never met Sabelo, she too would have been able to go to America and go to school.
The Black hospitals is overcrowded, dirty and understaffed. Miriam labors for her son in a crowed room filled with several women in advanced labor. One nurse tries to assist the pregnant women, but the complications and number of patients is too much for her to handle. One woman’s child is stillborn, another’s baby is born feet first damaging the mother in the birthing process, Miriam’s baby is healthy but big and causes Miriam to tear and bleed heavily. The nurses try to stitch her up, but they have to move her to another hospital for a specialist to suture her injuries about tens hours after giving birth. Miriam and Sibusiso are release the next day regardless of their condition as the bed are needed for other pregnant women. The conditions of the black hospital refuel Miriam’s desire to become a nurse. She is horrified by the animal-like conditions she experienced in the black hospital, while the white hospitals and staff stand waiting for patients to serve. Hospitals, places that should be used to help and heal, are death houses where the evil hand of Apartheid controls and suffocates the beginnings of each black child’s and mother’s life.
Miriam’s is lucky that her son is healthy and she regains her strength over a short time of recovery. She is seen as a good mother because she is healthy and her son is gaining weight and becoming stronger. Other women that have sickly children usually give up on clinic visits, as they are embarrassed as being seen as bad mothers. After the birth of Sibusiso, Sabelo is proud of his son and again asks for Miriam to marry him. By 1990 Miriam is much older than most of the students in Standard 8 but she refuses Sabelo and goes back to school. Violence again disrupts the school schedule, and Miriam is forced to repeat Standard 8. Sabelo becomes more and more frustrated by Miriam’s refusal of marriage and starts drinking to drown his disappointment. Sabelo forces Miriam to attend a party with him where she is almost raped returning home. She avoids Sabelo as much as she can, but the money and baby supplies he provides help to keep her baby healthy, so she allows the father limited access to her life. The little room she allows Sabelo to have in her life turns to disaster as one night in a drunken rage he beats her so terribly that her eyes swell shut. After he sobers up, he weeps at what he’s done to her and takes her back to his flat. Miriam wants to go home and take care of her son, but Sabelo is afraid to let her family see what he’s done to her. After being locked in to Sabelo’s apartment, Miriam begs to be released as her final exams are the next day but Sabelo refuses. She misses the exam, because of the beating and kidnapping and all her hard work is wasted, as she can’t retake the exam. She will have to repeat Standard 8 again.
It is fall of 1992 before Miriam Mathabane completes school in the Bantu system. The year she graduates is the first year her five-year-old son starts attending Standard 1. It has taken a total of seventeen years for her to graduate through a system that should have only taken ten. The promises of her brother Johannes of coming to America to further her education are about to come true for her and her young son. One day on returning from school, Sibusiso asks his mother if the schoolmistress in America beat the children for being tardy. “ No Sibusiso, no my child. Not in America (pg.305).”
Miriam Mathabane survived the poverty, riots, domestic violence, rape, beatings, continual disappointments, single motherhood and the fall of Apartheid. Her simple request of America was… “ I’m determined to achieve my dream of becoming a nurse. All I ask from America is the opportunity to do so. (p. 315)”. Miss Jones’s statement that …“ half a loaf is better than nothing (p. 175)” kept Miriam’s hope in education alive throughout her most challenging years in the Bantu education system. After coming to America in 1993, Ms. Mathabane gained freedom from many of the bullies that deferred, but never defeated her passion for her dream of becoming a nurse. She was free of violence, abuse and the suffocating grip of Apartheid and she followed thru with her promise and became a nurse shortly after moving to the United States.
After listening to the conflict, tension and melody of Miriam’s story, I find myself wondering what she and her family are doing today. I hope that she is happy and fulfilled in her work and that her son appreciates everything she has done by giving him a new life in America. Apartheid is no longer in effect in South Africa, but part of me wonders what happens to a generation of children that know nothing but violence, riots and defeat. Miriam’s spirit was not defeated by Apartheid, she was able to carry on and live in pursuit of her dreams, in spite of impossible circumstances. Half a loaf was enough for Miriam to make her dreams come true. I hope that each South African touched by the reach of Apartheid can have a song like Miriam. I hope they sing it like Miriam did, because we all need to hear it.
My life has had nary the struggle that Miriam’s has. I was an innocent child when I first heard of South Africa, and frankly I still am. I’ve never been beaten, raped or lived in poverty like she has. I have had so much given to me, and I give up on dreams too easily. If there is one thing learned from Miriam’s Song, it’s that I need to find my voice, dream my dream and never let it go, because “half a loaf, is better than none (p.175)”.
Book Information:
Miriam’s Song a Memoir by: Miriam Mathabane
As told by Mark Mathabane
Copyright 2000/Simon and Schuster
Rockefeller Center
1230 Ave, of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
The actual song and tune, I can’t remember. But the exact moment she started singing still plays like an old movie in the memory banks of my mind.
She had a look of such homesickness and love on her face as she sung about the beautiful people and places of South Africa. Her love for the county and its people planted a seed in my own heart. It was probably around 1979 or 1980 when she came to visit our little school in the hills of western Pennsylvania. Apartheid was never something she mentioned to us. Even if she had, I doubt if we would have been able to understand the wretchedness that went along with it. My innocent eyes had never seen, or have seen in my own life, the kinds violence and mindless limitation that apartheid placed upon so many South African’s lives. It was an American woman’ s song that called my heart towards South Africa, but it was a South African woman’s song that captured my heart.
*“Senzeni Na?
What have we done?
Sibozwa Nje?
To be so oppressed?
Sono sethu uba myama?
Are our crimes/sins that heinous?
Amabuna a yi zinja.
White policemen are dogs/unfeeling.
Vophu mthwala sigoduke.
Lets bear the burden of this life;
We haven’t far to go.”
*Sung a cappella and each line is repeated four times.
South African protest song from the 1980’s, sung by anti-apartheid demonstrators (p.16)
Miriam Mathabane grew up in South Africa during the dissolution of the Apartheid movement. Between the years of 1974 and 1993, Miriam grew up in Alexandria, South Africa. Bantu education (segregated black education) only served to teach the black children of South Africa the skills necessary to serving the European population of South Africa. Students learned a great deal about domestic science, sewing and gardening but were taught very little world history, biology and higher-level courses.
Previous to Bantu Education, there were a greater number of black teachers employed by primary schools. Before Apartheid, children’s education was performed by mission and church organizations and was proud to encourage all their students to learn and become successful members of society.
The government of South Africa enforced Bantu education because their leaders felt the mission and church schools were teaching subjects unnecessary to the black students. Dr. Verwoerd, the creator of Bantu Education said, “ I will have control of the native education. I will reform it so that natives will be taught from childhood to realize that equality with Europeans is not for them. There is no place for him (black child) in European society above the level of certain forms of labor…(pg 18)”
Instead of building up the individual student in order to produce doctors, lawyers and teachers; the Bantu system controlled the black population by limiting the depth and content of their education. Bantu education paralyzed independent spirit through bullying and physical punishment of students by Bantu teachers. Fear and terror were the earliest teachers of young Bantu students like Miriam Mathabane.
The early years of Miriam’s education revolved around the struggle of poverty and the affects of it upon an individual’s ability to learn. Cleanliness was a primary concern of Bantu instructors for their students. Hair must be combed, uniforms must be neat and clean, and fingernails must be trimmed neatly. The reality of poverty meant that Miriam’s family couldn’t afford the items necessary for her to arrive at school in proper attire or cleanliness. Students were beaten on a daily basis for arriving at school with their hair uncombed, nails untrimmed or bloomers torn. Children often fainted during classes due to lack of food for breakfast at home and lack of two rand that was necessary to purchase a peanut butter sandwich and watery skim powder milk for lunch. Miriam’s family added to the tension of pursuing an education, as her mother insisted she go because it was the only way to legally work someday when she was grown. Miriam’s father resented that the little money he did earn was spent on school supplies and hand me down uniform jumpers. The basics like running water, electricity and sewer systems were unattainable resources that were only repeated by the more basic needs of the day: food, water and evading neighborhood raids by the white police.
Random but regular raids were held in Alexandria to seek out and arrest blacks that did not have the proper documentation to be living and working in “White” South Africa. Miriam developed a great fear and hatred of white policemen as they regularly broke into her family’s two-room rented shack and arrested and beat up her parents for not carrying the proper documents to live in that city.
Consistent family supporting work was almost impossible for blacks to find in South Africa. It was necessary for all workers to carry a passbook and papers to be allowed to work in “white” South Africa. If a person did not have a job, they could not have papers. If they lost their job, they would be imprisoned. If they were imprisoned for not having papers in order, they would be dismissed from they job. If a person was discovered working in “white” South Africa without papers, they would be arrested and sent outside of the territory into “black” South Africa where there was no work and increased poverty.
European legislators placed impossible standards upon black South Africans, in order to ensure economic controls upon the parents and educational controls upon their children. Legislators thought that by limiting work and education, they would be guaranteed a dependent working class population with no hope for the future. When individuals like Steven Biko, Bishop Tutu or Nelson Mandela would speak out against Apartheid in order to give black South African’s hope: the government would arrest, imprison or kill such revolutionaries. Riots and violence were the result of the people’s hopes for freedom being lifted and dashed throughout the reign of Apartheid.
Even through all the hardships of Miriam’s life, she and her siblings fight to stay in school. Mama, a devout Christian prays for jobs for herself and her husband. Mama prays that her children stay in school and for her husband to stop drinking and gambling away his pay. Papa demands he wear the pants in the family and resists his wife’s Christian beliefs. He prefers to follow his tribal religion. Religious differences only add to the level of tension in Miriam’s household.
Johannes, her older brother, dedicated himself to school work, reading and tennis in hopes that someday he would come to the United States, go to university and buy a new home for his family in South Africa. People could not understand why a young South African man would want to read and speak English, play tennis and befriend whites. People thought that Johannes wanted to be white. Johannes was tormented by his peers and father because the traditional role of the eldest boy was to go to work as young as he could to help support his family. Johannes determination for earning his education made him a joke to the macho inhabitants of the ghetto of Alexandria.
The only people that seemed to understand Johannes intentions were his teachers, his mother, Miriam and eventually a college in South Carolina. Shortly after graduating from high school in Alexandria; Johannes started working in a bank and earned ten times the salary of his mother and father put together. He paid for his one sister to attend sewing school, all his siblings’ tuition and supplies for school, rent and groceries. Miriam was happy and dreams of becoming a nurse someday. Her hope of earning her education is fueled by Johannes’s success in school. Johannes seemed to be the savior of the family after all.
Johannes hard work and dreams are rewarded when he receives a letter from the United States, inviting him to attend a South Carolina University on a full tennis scholarship. He urges the family to speak to no one concerning his opportunity for fear of government interference and promises to send letters and money when he arrives in America. The birth of Johannes’s dream brings pressure from the community for all of Mama’s children to become the smartest, most accomplished children in Alexandria. But now that Johannes is gone to America, so are the material resources that made excelling in school possible. The burdens of poverty return to their home; making health care, income for family needs and the esteem of their community fade away from their lives. The specter of hope rarely shows itself through rare letters and small amounts of money sent from America. Johannes promises of supporting his sibling’s education are enough to keep Miriam in school, but the challenges of her daily life begin to slow and delay her educational progress.
Innocence is a quality that is quickly lost to the children of South Africa. Gambling causes parents to risk their small salaries in hopes of “making it big”. Parents overcome by depression and hunger drink away their incomes in order to dull their pain. The filth of the ghetto becomes worse as giant rats invade the neighborhood, drawn by the stench of open drains and raw sewage running throughout the ghetto. The rats bring disease to the already polluted community and attack children as they sleep on the floor of their two room shacks. While sleeping, rats chew the bottom of Miriam’s feet until they are raw and have to be wrapped in rags so she can continue to attend school. Miriam hates these bullies that attack her, but the human bullies cause her more conflict as she had been taught to always, “Turn the other cheek.” Only after speaking to he street-smart uncle does she grasp the necessity to protect herself. “Be like Christ in most things, but never allow people to walk all over you…Jesus never lived in Alexandria… you do.”(p. 129)
Bullies in Miriam’s world take on many appearances. Papa insists that Miriam and her siblings switch the language they are taking in school to his home dialect – Venda. She only has one year of primary school left, but she has to adapt her entire language in order to boost her father’s ego. Miriam passes her exams even with the added challenge. Miriam’s ability to be a hard worker, to submit to authority and be obedient challenges the necessity of self-defense against the bullies in her life. Everyone else seems so street-smart, she’s book-smart but wonders what will serve her survival the best. After five years, Johannes contacts the family and has sold his first book in America. He promises to pay for his siblings’ college costs with the proceeds he earns and Miriam’s hope in education is restored by Johannes’s promise, and she rededicates herself to her studies.
Escape from the ghetto and the violence of Apartheid was a luxury few residents were afforded. Miriam visits her Father’s homeland of Venda and is overwhelmed by the beauty of the remote area. Food is plentiful, she sleeps on a bed for the first time in her life and education and housing are offered to her if she only agrees to stay and help in her relative’s household. The offer of a new life is one many ghetto children would jump at, but Miriam’s devotion to her mother and homeland bully her back into a life of meager existence in Alexandria.
Political tensions in South Africa have continued to grow as Bishop Tutu is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his peaceful efforts against Apartheid. Miriam begins attending standard seven at Alexandria High School. Miss Jones, the school principal agrees that Bantu education is not the best, but encourages the students that, “ half a loaf, is better than nothing (p. 175)”. For six months, marches and demonstrations take place in the township of Alexandria, but the peaceful environment of Miriam’s safe school is rocked by shouting Comrades demanding the students join the cause or become labeled as traitors. People that refuse to participate in demonstrations are tortured by being necklaced: placing petrol soaked tire over the person’s head and shoulders and igniting the tire. Police retaliate against the Comrades with tear gas, beatings and shootings. Schools are closed in hopes of easing tensions. Tensions continue to grow as the white police, soldiers and various rebel groups scramble to control the actions of young black students. If a student wouldn’t participate in the demonstrations, they would be neckleced. If they were pressured into marching or attending night vigils for the cause, they ran the risk of being killed, injured, or arrested because of their participation.
Education was held captive to the cause of anti-apartheid. Exams were delayed or cancelled causing many students to fall further behind. Young girls were under more pressure to marry young during these lapses in school, because the dowry money was needed to support their struggling family. If the girls did not wed, many were violently raped and either contracted STD’s or became pregnant. After the rapes, men continued to pursue relationships with the girls in hopes that they would then marry them. This generation of South African children grew up with extreme violence. People often criticize their means of breaking down Apartheid, but violence begets violence. These children were witness and recipients of violence throughout their childhood, being subjected to beatings by parents, teachers and police. How would it be possible for them to act out and understand peaceful demonstration, if they had never seen or experienced personally.
In 1989, Nelson Mandela is released from prison and the celebrations in South Africa rock the townships. Unfortunately, shortly after his release the riots and shootings return and overtake the ghettos. Miriam’s schooling has been delayed by the political unrest in the past, but the personal unrest she is yet to experience places a next to impossible road block in her way.
Miriam meets Sabelo, a seemingly gentle, kindly young man and he accompanies her to vigils and occasional soccer games. One evening when a vigil turns to violence, Miriam agrees to go to Sabelo’s flat to find cover from the tear gas and gunfire. He gives her his bed and goes out to sleep in the living area, but in the midst of the far-away gunfire and the small hours of the night Sabelo forces himself upon Miriam. He rapes her, takes her virginity and steals away the moment of safety and peace she thought was hers. Miriam thinks, “If I’m pregnant my future is ruined (p. 227).”
Miriam’s fear of pregnancy, the delay of her education and disappointing her family are issues she is forced to deal with as she finds herself pregnant after Sabelo’s rape. The young women in this time and place are surrounded with crisis and violence and stay in relationships with the men that assault and rape them. Sabelo begs for forgiveness and promises to provide for his child. He desires to marry Miriam, but she refuses knowing that her education will never be completed if she marries so young.
The birth of her son in 1989, Sibusiso (meaning a gift from God), helps her to personally understand the limitations of becoming a single young mother in South Africa and reveals further evils of Apartheid. Miriam misses her exams, and her family’s first trip to the United States – provided by the success of Johannes first book. Her younger siblings go to America with her Mama and are able to stay in the states to attend school there. Had she never met Sabelo, she too would have been able to go to America and go to school.
The Black hospitals is overcrowded, dirty and understaffed. Miriam labors for her son in a crowed room filled with several women in advanced labor. One nurse tries to assist the pregnant women, but the complications and number of patients is too much for her to handle. One woman’s child is stillborn, another’s baby is born feet first damaging the mother in the birthing process, Miriam’s baby is healthy but big and causes Miriam to tear and bleed heavily. The nurses try to stitch her up, but they have to move her to another hospital for a specialist to suture her injuries about tens hours after giving birth. Miriam and Sibusiso are release the next day regardless of their condition as the bed are needed for other pregnant women. The conditions of the black hospital refuel Miriam’s desire to become a nurse. She is horrified by the animal-like conditions she experienced in the black hospital, while the white hospitals and staff stand waiting for patients to serve. Hospitals, places that should be used to help and heal, are death houses where the evil hand of Apartheid controls and suffocates the beginnings of each black child’s and mother’s life.
Miriam’s is lucky that her son is healthy and she regains her strength over a short time of recovery. She is seen as a good mother because she is healthy and her son is gaining weight and becoming stronger. Other women that have sickly children usually give up on clinic visits, as they are embarrassed as being seen as bad mothers. After the birth of Sibusiso, Sabelo is proud of his son and again asks for Miriam to marry him. By 1990 Miriam is much older than most of the students in Standard 8 but she refuses Sabelo and goes back to school. Violence again disrupts the school schedule, and Miriam is forced to repeat Standard 8. Sabelo becomes more and more frustrated by Miriam’s refusal of marriage and starts drinking to drown his disappointment. Sabelo forces Miriam to attend a party with him where she is almost raped returning home. She avoids Sabelo as much as she can, but the money and baby supplies he provides help to keep her baby healthy, so she allows the father limited access to her life. The little room she allows Sabelo to have in her life turns to disaster as one night in a drunken rage he beats her so terribly that her eyes swell shut. After he sobers up, he weeps at what he’s done to her and takes her back to his flat. Miriam wants to go home and take care of her son, but Sabelo is afraid to let her family see what he’s done to her. After being locked in to Sabelo’s apartment, Miriam begs to be released as her final exams are the next day but Sabelo refuses. She misses the exam, because of the beating and kidnapping and all her hard work is wasted, as she can’t retake the exam. She will have to repeat Standard 8 again.
It is fall of 1992 before Miriam Mathabane completes school in the Bantu system. The year she graduates is the first year her five-year-old son starts attending Standard 1. It has taken a total of seventeen years for her to graduate through a system that should have only taken ten. The promises of her brother Johannes of coming to America to further her education are about to come true for her and her young son. One day on returning from school, Sibusiso asks his mother if the schoolmistress in America beat the children for being tardy. “ No Sibusiso, no my child. Not in America (pg.305).”
Miriam Mathabane survived the poverty, riots, domestic violence, rape, beatings, continual disappointments, single motherhood and the fall of Apartheid. Her simple request of America was… “ I’m determined to achieve my dream of becoming a nurse. All I ask from America is the opportunity to do so. (p. 315)”. Miss Jones’s statement that …“ half a loaf is better than nothing (p. 175)” kept Miriam’s hope in education alive throughout her most challenging years in the Bantu education system. After coming to America in 1993, Ms. Mathabane gained freedom from many of the bullies that deferred, but never defeated her passion for her dream of becoming a nurse. She was free of violence, abuse and the suffocating grip of Apartheid and she followed thru with her promise and became a nurse shortly after moving to the United States.
After listening to the conflict, tension and melody of Miriam’s story, I find myself wondering what she and her family are doing today. I hope that she is happy and fulfilled in her work and that her son appreciates everything she has done by giving him a new life in America. Apartheid is no longer in effect in South Africa, but part of me wonders what happens to a generation of children that know nothing but violence, riots and defeat. Miriam’s spirit was not defeated by Apartheid, she was able to carry on and live in pursuit of her dreams, in spite of impossible circumstances. Half a loaf was enough for Miriam to make her dreams come true. I hope that each South African touched by the reach of Apartheid can have a song like Miriam. I hope they sing it like Miriam did, because we all need to hear it.
My life has had nary the struggle that Miriam’s has. I was an innocent child when I first heard of South Africa, and frankly I still am. I’ve never been beaten, raped or lived in poverty like she has. I have had so much given to me, and I give up on dreams too easily. If there is one thing learned from Miriam’s Song, it’s that I need to find my voice, dream my dream and never let it go, because “half a loaf, is better than none (p.175)”.
Book Information:
Miriam’s Song a Memoir by: Miriam Mathabane
As told by Mark Mathabane
Copyright 2000/Simon and Schuster
Rockefeller Center
1230 Ave, of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Sunday, November 27, 2005
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?
I really detest the way that Black Friday follows so closely on the heels of Thanksgiving Day. The dishes at my gathering weren't even dry before the talk switched from count your blessings to iPods and DVDs. My friend J-- and I decided to blow the whole shopping thing off and instead spent Friday volunteering as bellringers for The Salvation Army. Afterwards, we rode along with Lamont as she checked out some other collection stands at the mall.
One thing that we noticed about people was that they were smiling when they threw a few bucks in our kettle. But as people streamed out of the mall, nobody was smiling -- even though they were walking out with bags of gifts. When J-- and I were freezing our butts off outside the Post Office, a mailman took time out of his schedule to bring us out cups of hot chocolate. But there was no time to spare at the mall -- we watched one car repeatedly get cut off as it tried to exit the parking lot. Some of the drivers even yelled.
I remember last year hearing about a poll where men were asked their greatest Christmas wish. The number one answer was world peace. Number two? A wide screen TV. It's as if we have our dreams for a better world, but we keep our more realistic amusements and distractions waiting in the wings, just in case.
When buying things for our loved ones becomes a curse rather than a blessing it's time for us to reevaluate how we're going to celebrate the holidays. I don't want the parties and get togethers this season to be just another obligation on my already overloaded to-do list. I don't want to be so fixed on the next bargain that I can't share some courtesy with the people around me. I don't want to feel like I'm buying the approval of Lamont and the kids on Christmas morning.
I don't want to live in a world where Black Friday exists but Advent doesn't.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light...
One thing that we noticed about people was that they were smiling when they threw a few bucks in our kettle. But as people streamed out of the mall, nobody was smiling -- even though they were walking out with bags of gifts. When J-- and I were freezing our butts off outside the Post Office, a mailman took time out of his schedule to bring us out cups of hot chocolate. But there was no time to spare at the mall -- we watched one car repeatedly get cut off as it tried to exit the parking lot. Some of the drivers even yelled.
I remember last year hearing about a poll where men were asked their greatest Christmas wish. The number one answer was world peace. Number two? A wide screen TV. It's as if we have our dreams for a better world, but we keep our more realistic amusements and distractions waiting in the wings, just in case.
When buying things for our loved ones becomes a curse rather than a blessing it's time for us to reevaluate how we're going to celebrate the holidays. I don't want the parties and get togethers this season to be just another obligation on my already overloaded to-do list. I don't want to be so fixed on the next bargain that I can't share some courtesy with the people around me. I don't want to feel like I'm buying the approval of Lamont and the kids on Christmas morning.
I don't want to live in a world where Black Friday exists but Advent doesn't.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light...
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Talkin' Turkey
President Bush continues to address the important issues of the day... In a ceremony yesterday he pardoned two Thanksgiving turkeys -- which is a heck of a lot farther than any inmates got with him when he was governor of Texas.
Here's a picture to prove I'm not making this up:
Guess which one's the bigger turkey?
Here's a picture to prove I'm not making this up:
Guess which one's the bigger turkey?
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Flypaper and me
-I've been stuck in a funk for a while. Frustrated w/ work...wishing I felt as connected to the new place and people (like I used to feel in J-town) and tired of running around feeling as if I'm not accomplishing much. To make things worse, every time I see old co-workers they go on and on and on about how much they miss me, my abilities and wish I could return to the DV program. My homesickness only becomes worse, because I'm reminded what I loved about that kind of work.
But I'm not really sure that "going back" would be the best choice.
Who was it that said you can only go forward. I think I need to have a chat with them. So I'm stuck.
I'm homesick for part of my old job and terrific coworkers (love you girls!), it's the holiday season so I'm swamped at work, and the laundry is piling up as I type. Part of me wants to start over with everything and everyone - but I think I figured out what I'm missing. I need to get unstuck.
I'm going to make another change.
Today, I reapplied for financial aid and I'm renrolling @ Empire State College (off campus at JCC) late in the "fall" semester - I'm only 30 credits away from my BA....I must finish because I want to attend seminary after that.
I'm enrolling full-time and going to work full time. I have to be enrolled by the 6th of December to make the Fall financial aid cut off. So here I go.
Crazy, so crazy.
but I know that it's something I need to feel satisfied with myself.
I'm gonna kick this funk yet.
I'm trying to move forward and unglue my feet from the fly paper they've been stuck in for over a year.
I will get unstuck.
Peace.
But I'm not really sure that "going back" would be the best choice.
Who was it that said you can only go forward. I think I need to have a chat with them. So I'm stuck.
I'm homesick for part of my old job and terrific coworkers (love you girls!), it's the holiday season so I'm swamped at work, and the laundry is piling up as I type. Part of me wants to start over with everything and everyone - but I think I figured out what I'm missing. I need to get unstuck.
I'm going to make another change.
Today, I reapplied for financial aid and I'm renrolling @ Empire State College (off campus at JCC) late in the "fall" semester - I'm only 30 credits away from my BA....I must finish because I want to attend seminary after that.
I'm enrolling full-time and going to work full time. I have to be enrolled by the 6th of December to make the Fall financial aid cut off. So here I go.
Crazy, so crazy.
but I know that it's something I need to feel satisfied with myself.
I'm gonna kick this funk yet.
I'm trying to move forward and unglue my feet from the fly paper they've been stuck in for over a year.
I will get unstuck.
Peace.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Let the Good Times Roll
I just saw a news report that one of my favorite eighties bands is getting back together. The Cars are planning a new tour and album for 2006. The original guitarist and keyboardist are taking part which will go a long way towards recreating the classic Cars sound. The real switch is that Todd Rundgren will be the new front man replacing Benjamin Orr, who is deceased, and Ric Ocasek, who obviously hasn't run out of money.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Lamont, The Trend Setter
Pardon my indulgence, but his posting will only make sense to people who know us personally...
The other day I was browsing a website entitled How To Dress Emo. Please don't ask why. They had a diagram of "the typical emo girl." Is this Lamont or what?
The other day I was browsing a website entitled How To Dress Emo. Please don't ask why. They had a diagram of "the typical emo girl." Is this Lamont or what?
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Gimme A Break
I've had a longstanding grudge against the candy industry since the late 1970s, when I discovered that I could no longer buy a Marathon or a Wonka Skrunch Bar. But all was forgiven yesterday when I tried a Kit Kat Crisp Wafer Bar! Imagine one regular Kit Kat wafer blown up to the size of a candy bar... Pure genius... Try it! It's more than a candy bar, IT'S A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE!!!
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Kids Say The Darndest Things
Last night, my eight-year old son and I scrapped together the last bit of loose change we could find and ate a meager meal at Burger King. Afterwards I had to stop back at work because I forgot something. One of my coworkers still happened to be hanging around so I introduced her to my son. The rest of the exchange went something like this:
Coworker: So what are you and your dad going to do tonight?
Son: Hopefully get something to drink because my dad couldn't even afford to buy me a Coke because he's out of money!
This kind of outburst is very uncharacteristic of my son. Still, afterwards we talked about polite conversation, not saying awkward things to people, blah, blah, blah...
This morning I took him for his six-month dental appointment. The hygenist asked him about his sugar consumption. He slapped on his neon-glowing halo, cued the violins, and said in his best pitiful little boy voice: I occasionally have a glass of grape juice with breakfast. Sometimes I have a stick of non sugar-free gum.
The hygenist bought it. She may have even had a tear in her eye -- I couldn't tell through the eye-protection. And I came out looking like the Father of the Year, nevermind that my son drank enough pop to float a battleship last weekend and ate an entire warehouse of Hershey's products in the days following Halloween.
Later in the day it occurred to me that I was uptight with him last night when all he did was tell the truth. This morning I was relaxed because he lied. No wonder kids get confused!
Coworker: So what are you and your dad going to do tonight?
Son: Hopefully get something to drink because my dad couldn't even afford to buy me a Coke because he's out of money!
This kind of outburst is very uncharacteristic of my son. Still, afterwards we talked about polite conversation, not saying awkward things to people, blah, blah, blah...
This morning I took him for his six-month dental appointment. The hygenist asked him about his sugar consumption. He slapped on his neon-glowing halo, cued the violins, and said in his best pitiful little boy voice: I occasionally have a glass of grape juice with breakfast. Sometimes I have a stick of non sugar-free gum.
The hygenist bought it. She may have even had a tear in her eye -- I couldn't tell through the eye-protection. And I came out looking like the Father of the Year, nevermind that my son drank enough pop to float a battleship last weekend and ate an entire warehouse of Hershey's products in the days following Halloween.
Later in the day it occurred to me that I was uptight with him last night when all he did was tell the truth. This morning I was relaxed because he lied. No wonder kids get confused!
Sunday, November 13, 2005
That Was The Week That Was
It's been a crazy and exhilarating week at Experiment House: My niece had her baby; Lamont sent a buck to its great reward via a 15 passenger van; The family stood in awe of a 1407.3 lbs grumpkin; I participated in an excellent strategic planning session at work; Watched the nightmare-inducing --And Now The Screaming Starts (thanks James); Rode along with the youth group to Camp Allegany to see a brass band from Asbury College; Encouraged a friend; Discovered a coworker has a love of all things MST3K and horror; Hosted a life-affirming spiritual formation group last night; and received the sad news from our vet that our thirteen year-old shepherd collie may not be long for this world. Now it's Sunday morning and I have to run to Wal-Mart to buy birthday gifts for my sister and niece before I go to church and all I want to do is just sit here with my dog.
So how was your week?
So how was your week?
Thursday, November 10, 2005
I got my Buck!
Just when I thought my life couldn't get any more interesting...I was on my way home last night @9:15 pm... in the church maxi van (ie. tank).....with 3 teens in the back seat....When a 4-6 point buck leaped off the left side of the road and careened into my lane ... and me. SMACK!
I hit him @ 30mph at least...and then ran him over. I felt the sick thud (yuck) of his body hit ( under my feet on the driver's side)... and I pulled off the road to see if everyone was ok...we all were. WHEW!
But the grill and headlight of the van were rather screwed up.
Today my shoulders and back are sore from the impact...
weird fact though...did you know that your eyes can get sore and bloodshot from and accident like this? Neither did I... but I look like I have a nasty case of pink eye.
Oy -vey!
There were people that wanted to know afterward if we were ok. But my two favorite odd comments were....
'Did you save the carcass for meat" and
" What a waste of a buck."
I guess this proves the point that yes, Lamont... you are working in North Western PA, and people are more buck oriented than people oriented at times.
I hit him @ 30mph at least...and then ran him over. I felt the sick thud (yuck) of his body hit ( under my feet on the driver's side)... and I pulled off the road to see if everyone was ok...we all were. WHEW!
But the grill and headlight of the van were rather screwed up.
Today my shoulders and back are sore from the impact...
weird fact though...did you know that your eyes can get sore and bloodshot from and accident like this? Neither did I... but I look like I have a nasty case of pink eye.
Oy -vey!
There were people that wanted to know afterward if we were ok. But my two favorite odd comments were....
'Did you save the carcass for meat" and
" What a waste of a buck."
I guess this proves the point that yes, Lamont... you are working in North Western PA, and people are more buck oriented than people oriented at times.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Bird by BLANK
I just got the new issue of The Wittenburg Door in the mail. It's the one with Elvis as a priest on the cover. It's great, although I was hoping that a satire I wrote about a certain Virginia Beach based televangelist would make this issue. I guess I'll have to wait until the January/February edition...
I have channeled my frustration at not being in this month's lineup into a productive direction. I'm writing the Great American Novel. It's a murder mystery set during a taping of Match Game '76. The first line is, "It was a dark and stormy BLANK."
I have channeled my frustration at not being in this month's lineup into a productive direction. I'm writing the Great American Novel. It's a murder mystery set during a taping of Match Game '76. The first line is, "It was a dark and stormy BLANK."
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Meet You at the Secret Fun Spot
Remember when it used to be fun to surf the net? These days, I think I've seen just about everything I ever want to see via a cable modem. So I have been surprised and delighted to discover the Secret Fun Spot. It's a site dedicated to pulp culture artifacts of yesteryear that I simply can't stop looking at. (Judging from the time frame of many of the selections, I'm guessing that its author and myself are around the same age.) What puts the site right over the top is its innovative graphic design, with each separate gallery getting a customized treatment. If you were a kid in the seventies this site is mandatory surfing!
My Weekend?
Well, lets start by saying I've had 2 days off in a row. But I've been under the weather.
On Wednesday night, I picked up a sleeping six year old from his seat in the maxi van and carried him into his house after group and after getting home I kept getting pain in my lower abdomin. It continued thru Thursday,,,so Fri I went to the doc. They had no clue.
So, still in pain I went to the ER friday afternoon for HOURS,,,returned Saturday morning for a sonogram...and after blood tests , urine (sorry) tests and waiting for HOURS more for test results.,, the on call doc concluded that I pulled some muscles in my thigh and stomach and sent me home with a script for painkillers (thank God) and orders to rest and see my doc on Monday if needed.
I felt rather silly...worrying about all the "stuff" that could be wrong. Then I was kinda mad. Isn't it procedure for the Doctor to ask some simple questions to see if you can recall the reason for the pain? They did ask when the pain started (considering that this week was a blur, it was hard to recall)...but it would have been much easier had they asked the brilliant question... "Have you done any work or exercise out of the ordinary this week?" That would have been too easy.
So much for two days off.
One bit of great hospital news though...my niece had her baby early this morning. His name is Eli - he's healthy and so is Mom. I'll see him on Sunday. Night.
TAra
On Wednesday night, I picked up a sleeping six year old from his seat in the maxi van and carried him into his house after group and after getting home I kept getting pain in my lower abdomin. It continued thru Thursday,,,so Fri I went to the doc. They had no clue.
So, still in pain I went to the ER friday afternoon for HOURS,,,returned Saturday morning for a sonogram...and after blood tests , urine (sorry) tests and waiting for HOURS more for test results.,, the on call doc concluded that I pulled some muscles in my thigh and stomach and sent me home with a script for painkillers (thank God) and orders to rest and see my doc on Monday if needed.
I felt rather silly...worrying about all the "stuff" that could be wrong. Then I was kinda mad. Isn't it procedure for the Doctor to ask some simple questions to see if you can recall the reason for the pain? They did ask when the pain started (considering that this week was a blur, it was hard to recall)...but it would have been much easier had they asked the brilliant question... "Have you done any work or exercise out of the ordinary this week?" That would have been too easy.
So much for two days off.
One bit of great hospital news though...my niece had her baby early this morning. His name is Eli - he's healthy and so is Mom. I'll see him on Sunday. Night.
TAra
Saturday, November 05, 2005
What's in Your Wallet?
Forbes Magazine just issued its list of the Top-Earning Dead Celebrities. I think it's high time for me to look at grad school, considering dead people are out-earning me!
Friday, November 04, 2005
From the Now I've Heard Everything Dept.
A woman at my mom's church was relating the dangers of Christians celebrating Halloween... She claimed that because she carved a pumpkin with her children that Satan was able to "afflict her with diarrhea."
I want to present this woman with my prestigious Now I've Heard Everything Award. In a world plagued by war, poverty and disease, THANK YOU for alerting us to the really important issue: Jack 'o Lanterns.
Rest assured that we at Experiment House will direct all our considerable resources and influence towards the Food and Drug Administration until they require warning stickers on pumpkins, aka, "The Devil's Orange Carbuncles."
I want to present this woman with my prestigious Now I've Heard Everything Award. In a world plagued by war, poverty and disease, THANK YOU for alerting us to the really important issue: Jack 'o Lanterns.
Rest assured that we at Experiment House will direct all our considerable resources and influence towards the Food and Drug Administration until they require warning stickers on pumpkins, aka, "The Devil's Orange Carbuncles."
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Halloween 2005 is History
You know when Halloween is over? For me it was 6:45 am this morning when I tried to get my kids up for school after the inevitable "sugar crash." I've always joked that my kids exhibit signs similar to a hang over on November 1, and my twelve year old daughter proved my suspicions correct this morning. Upon waking up she asked, "How did I get to my bunkbed last night?"
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