Coming to Rhodes will turn you into a snob.
Coming to Rhodes will in everyway not turn you into a snob. In many ways it is probably the opposite, Rhodes will transform anyone’s snob like habits into something more grotesque and almost animal like.
Let me explain. Firstly the dining halls will turn you into slobs, never mind snobs. Usually you wait in a long line eagerly anticipating the nutrients your body so desperately needs. Yet almost every time you are disappointed by what you find on your plate. This is not food for the snobbish kind. Almost all of the food is soaked in oil. Fine I understand fast food or Halaal being full of oil but when you order health platter you expect it to be a little bit healthy. This is not the case, usually a perfectly healthy chicken pasta salad is drenched with fattening mayonnaise, I then think to myself I should of just ordered a pie! Secondly if you don’t get to lunch at exactly 12’o clock, there is usually not enough utensils to cater for everyone. So you end up sharing a knife with the person sitting next to you, or even worse using a fork to eat your ice cream .A treat which you had been waiting for the whole week. This kind of behaviour will not turn you into a snob. You cant be too picky other wise you will starve to death. There is an alternative there, is bread , and on the day when the toasters work there is the bonus of having toast.
I think that there is absolutely no chance of becoming a snob at Rhodes.My third important point is that there is a rising trend known as the ‘ bungi ’ .These individuals portray the opposite image to a snob. The walk around with bare feet and tie dyed clothes that are not too flattering to the figure. No one judges them as Rhodes is full of so many diverse or ‘weird’, as some say, people. These individuals view the world in an alternative way while snobs would view the world in a materialist almost selfish way. Being constantly surrounded by a diverse range of people there is no chance that Rhodes could turn you into a snob.
Many individuals live in residence which is not the most lavish accommodation in the world. There is no space for hierarchy , as snobs like to look down on other people because they regard themselves as better then any one else. In residence the rooms are small and the furniture is rather old. Everything gets dirty really easily and there is no one to pick up after you. You, yourself have to find the vacuum and sometimes lag it up eight flights of stairs just so you can do a quick five minute vacuum. You will have to get used to the many objects which are found on the floor everyday such as hair. Usually every day I will find the minimum of three different braids which have fallen out and the owners have not bothered to pick them up. My fourth point is that your clothes will usually be taken out of the washing machines covered in hair, almost unrecognisable.
The toilets are the worst they occasionally covered in urine which makes you feel reasonably queasy. All in all Rhodes will do any thing but turn you into a snob it will teach you how to be strong in disgusting times and show you how to appreciate good food . Basically at Rhodes you don’t have a chance to be snobbish, as you will not be liked and be an outcast in society.
http://killjill.wordpress.com/
Comment on market your blog.
I found that this particular blog relates to my blog. It discusses specific issues which we also found relevant to most university students especially first years. It has a particular post which deals with issues which I wrote about. Mainly the fact that first years believe that they are stepping into a world of endless freedom and fun and games. We both explored that this is not the case there are consequences to all actions and no one is there to pick you up when you fall. The fact that you think everything is going well because you are keeping up appearances and seen as a socialite but little does one know that in the end you are not better off. There are also posts that talk about the excessive consumption of alcohol and other substances which individuals get dragged into. Some of the posts also talk about procrastination, not doing your work and not going to lectures which we have also dealt with in our blog. We believed that all these issues were relevant and needed to be discussed in order to stop the next first years from making the mistakes we as they really don’t know until they have made the mistake.
Comment on market your blog.
I found that this particular blog relates to my blog. It discusses specific issues which we also found relevant to most university students especially first years. It has a particular post which deals with issues which I wrote about. Mainly the fact that first years believe that they are stepping into a world of endless freedom and fun and games. We both explored that this is not the case there are consequences to all actions and no one is there to pick you up when you fall. The fact that you think everything is going well because you are keeping up appearances and seen as a socialite but little does one know that in the end you are not better off. There are also posts that talk about the excessive consumption of alcohol and other substances which individuals get dragged into. Some of the posts also talk about procrastination, not doing your work and not going to lectures which we have also dealt with in our blog. We believed that all these issues were relevant and needed to be discussed in order to stop the next first years from making the mistakes we as they really don’t know until they have made the mistake.
circus outside the circus- US!!
This is a nice balance. Pro-circus, anti-cricus, seems like there will always be factions over an issue, as in a fragmented pot-modern era we find ourselves in, nothing can be sure but the subjectivity of views. A circus provides a controlled arena for entertainment, but outside the tent, there is enough entertainment in the simple observing of the absurdity of human beings.
My blog as its own genre
This term’s blogging experience was an interesting glimpse into the possibilities, as well as the depth and prevalence, of the blogosphere. This genre, as its own, was, to a significant degree, hindering in its required style of writing. Since it was primarily targeted at first years, or those going into first year, it required a colloquial, and easy format and structure to follow. The implications being a hampering of language selection, as well as a thematic exploration. To aim at a broader audience allows room for experimenting with thoughts and ideas, instead of reflecting over recent events and feelings. Since my character required a controversial approach in selecting story ideas, I felt that there were limits in the choice process, as many provocative topics seem irrelevant to first years, or the theme of “surviving first year”. Having said this, the theme of “surviving first year” provides ample room to explore a diverse array of relative topics, especially the inviting dangers that reveal themselves to all first years one time or another.
The theme for my group’s blog was “The Circus”, as we attempted to illustrate the many facets of first year by each writer assuming a circus character, and thereby exploring the various reaches of first year. I chose to be the “fire breather”, as I aimed to touch on all the heated happenings in first year, thinking that I could relate my experiences with such happenings. But I feel that the assignments made it hard at times to fully explore one’s character, although I do believe that my character was such that I could always raise my “voice” a few decibels, be it only through my choice of tone.
Since most lectures in the beginning of, and tutorials throughout, term were on the actual technicalities of the blog, like adding widgets and gadgets, and registering one’s blog onto the various blog search-engines, I was stifled by the inability to grapple with the new means of technology. Because of the distractive feat of trying to get my blog posts uploaded, hyper-linked, and presentable, I feel that my production was less that substantial, and I hardly posted any articles out of free will. I therefore don’t feel that I fully took advantage of the opportunity to have expressed myself, and my blog character to the fullest degree.
Since I didn’t get overly involved, I didn’t feel as if I was an actual journalist, with a following of readers. However, I feel that blogging is definitely a form of journalism, be it professional, or be it civil. Since, if facts are substantiated and hyper-linked to relevant and trustworthy sites, the authenticity stands. This is highly resourceful, and allows areas of debate to specialise and focus on the intricacies of the certain topics. By that regard, blogging can be a potent means of discussing, sharing, and analysing information. For instance, I did manage to touch on a few topics worthy of, and relevant to, first years, especially oppidans and their seemingly disadvantaged position within this town.
Sticking to the strict regime of any genre, one ought to push the malleable boundaries as much as one is able to. That is why the blogging genre as a whole was by no measures problematic for me. It allows a certain degree of freedom between its borders, and by the correct use of hyperlinks, a story may be a variable of a hybridisation of other genres, moulding it to your own favourable shape. This freedom does release the tension to conform, and it is this reason that I think that the blogging genre, and this terms work, required a degree of creativity, and provided the space to experiment, mix, and blend the various styles or genres that we have adapted to, or wanted to explore.
The theme for my group’s blog was “The Circus”, as we attempted to illustrate the many facets of first year by each writer assuming a circus character, and thereby exploring the various reaches of first year. I chose to be the “fire breather”, as I aimed to touch on all the heated happenings in first year, thinking that I could relate my experiences with such happenings. But I feel that the assignments made it hard at times to fully explore one’s character, although I do believe that my character was such that I could always raise my “voice” a few decibels, be it only through my choice of tone.
Since most lectures in the beginning of, and tutorials throughout, term were on the actual technicalities of the blog, like adding widgets and gadgets, and registering one’s blog onto the various blog search-engines, I was stifled by the inability to grapple with the new means of technology. Because of the distractive feat of trying to get my blog posts uploaded, hyper-linked, and presentable, I feel that my production was less that substantial, and I hardly posted any articles out of free will. I therefore don’t feel that I fully took advantage of the opportunity to have expressed myself, and my blog character to the fullest degree.
Since I didn’t get overly involved, I didn’t feel as if I was an actual journalist, with a following of readers. However, I feel that blogging is definitely a form of journalism, be it professional, or be it civil. Since, if facts are substantiated and hyper-linked to relevant and trustworthy sites, the authenticity stands. This is highly resourceful, and allows areas of debate to specialise and focus on the intricacies of the certain topics. By that regard, blogging can be a potent means of discussing, sharing, and analysing information. For instance, I did manage to touch on a few topics worthy of, and relevant to, first years, especially oppidans and their seemingly disadvantaged position within this town.
Sticking to the strict regime of any genre, one ought to push the malleable boundaries as much as one is able to. That is why the blogging genre as a whole was by no measures problematic for me. It allows a certain degree of freedom between its borders, and by the correct use of hyperlinks, a story may be a variable of a hybridisation of other genres, moulding it to your own favourable shape. This freedom does release the tension to conform, and it is this reason that I think that the blogging genre, and this terms work, required a degree of creativity, and provided the space to experiment, mix, and blend the various styles or genres that we have adapted to, or wanted to explore.
The last full stop.
“You are going to have to set up a blog in order for you to submit your assignments” our tutor, Tracey, explained to a bunch of first years mirroring my expression-bewilderment. Personally, I didn’t even know what a blog was a year ago. And now, they were expecting an entire class of journalism 1 students to know how to do this. I was sure I was not the only one.
Due to the fact that we were studying narrative and genre in the third term, it was only natural that the fourth term’s more practical course would be confined to one genre - blogging. During the onset of the course, being put into groups was comforting, as the general feeling was that of confusion.
I found blogging to be quite an interesting and fascinating genre of journalism. I, along with the rest of my group did not find this genre at all limiting, if anything, it was quite flexible. The fact that we could communicate by means of text, music, slideshows, photos and by editing our profiles made it that more diverse. The only thing that might have curbed our inspiration was time constraints. I usually work very well under pressure, except for the fact that journalism is not my only subject and having up to four deadlines, for one subject, per week, was a little rough.
Last Saturday night, a friend and I were busy putting the final touches to our JMS 2 applications, when a frantic “gtalk” bubble popped up screaming, “The comment is due for tonight!!” Flat panic. It was 22 45. That left an hour and a bit to find a blog to comment on and write something substantial. The constantly changing deadlines not only put a curb on our productivity, but it sent most of us into flying fits of rushed confusion. We immediately rushed off to our own rooms to complete the assignment only to find out the next morning in class that the assignment was due for that night, Monday night.
Coming up with story ideas was not a problem for me. The assignments that we had been given throughout the term, I thought were interesting and I enjoyed them. We had not been given this sort of creative freedom before, as our previous writing course had been confined to the news genre. However, I did feel that the theme we were given was a little overdone; we had dealt with our experiences as first years in our news writing course. This was a little off putting, because whenever I read the assignment brief, my energy for the new piece would deflate as I realised I would have to link it back to my first year. Thus, I feel that confining a theme to one year is a little creatively limiting.
In terms of writing, I feel that I learnt a great deal about the different styles of writing, for example, the letter, the profile (although we did this in the first term), the photo comic strip, the opinion piece and now the reflexive piece. However, I was a little disappointed when I realised the reflexive piece was about our course, and not about, once again, our first year experience. To be quite honest, I had become used to writing on this subject and was looking forward to it, or at least somehow relating my story back to my first year.
I didn’t do any in-depth research for any of my pieces, apart from interviewing a couple of people, and browsing the odd internet site and so I didn’t really have to worry about verifying my facts as I did so while doing the initial researching. Neither did I experience any difficulty with my sources, although I did find it challenging while interviewing one particular source. I had decided to do my profile piece on a friend, whom I believed to be a true survivor of not just first year varsity, but her personal life as well. I had to interview her at 7 30 in the morning as she was heading home for a couple of days. I remember watching her sitting on her chair in her purple Roxy shirt recalling the events of the past two years with a smile on her face. I found this slightly unsettling as the last two years and not been easy for her, although at the same time it was uplifting, as instead of becoming wrapped up in a world of uncertainty and sadness again, she told the story as though she was an outsider with an insider’s perspective.
On a Wednesday morning, I attended my journalism lecture as per normal, and as per usual I sat in the same spot. There is always something unconventional that happens in our lectures due to the odd practices of our one lecturer, but, I definitely wasn’t expecting what was about to happen. I listened, gobsmacked as this one said lecturer read out aloud a student’s polite, diplomatic email. In the letter, she explained how she felt that the workload for this specific class was slightly heavy and how she did not appreciate it when this said lecturer generalised that all students will go out, party and get drunk before they even consider their work. She divulged personal information in this email about why she was having difficulty meeting deadlines, only for it to be read out to the entire journalism 1 class. This lecturer then covered up by saying he had done so by way of example for our next piece, the opinion piece. This is the only ethical concern I have faced in the duration of this course, as I believe it is a violation of privacy. Nobody sends an email to a lecturer expecting for it to be read out in class.
All in all, I feel that due to my experiences in this course, deadline mishaps and unethical practices included, I have learnt a great deal, not only about journalism, but life as well. I realise now that journalism is not just about writing stories, but about the message you leave behind once you type that full stop.
Comment: first-year love isn't always a charade
Hey there Starfish
Ah sex! Hate it or love it, it’s the one thing you’re not going to escape as long as you’re in the company of Rodents! (That, and alcohol.)
The thing about relationships is that the whole point to them is to eventually get down and dirty. I mean, if you are not inevitably looking for a mate, what are you after?
But, that’s not all that they are about, and they certainly are not the “glue” that holds relationships together. If anything, if entered into for the wrong reasons, sex can be the greatest destroyer of relationships. Hence the hurt.
And by the way, pain isn’t only a burden for the feminine heart. Guys hurt too – a lot. Interestingly, and contrary to common belief, I’ve seen guys far more torn up after a relationship, while the X rides off into the sunset with a new victim.
However, even the “good” guys have issues with where their blood is headed to.
As the old saying goes “A guy gives love for sex and a girl gives sex for love.” And it’s a fundamental truth in all romantic relationships.
But that doesn’t mean that above the seething sea of hormonal urges guys aren’t fantastic creatures that really just want some love. So cut them some slack, be aware of the sex issue, and if you don’t want it, make sure he knows it from the word go.
In LIfe and Love,
Good luck
THE MAGICIAN
Ah sex! Hate it or love it, it’s the one thing you’re not going to escape as long as you’re in the company of Rodents! (That, and alcohol.)
The thing about relationships is that the whole point to them is to eventually get down and dirty. I mean, if you are not inevitably looking for a mate, what are you after?
But, that’s not all that they are about, and they certainly are not the “glue” that holds relationships together. If anything, if entered into for the wrong reasons, sex can be the greatest destroyer of relationships. Hence the hurt.
And by the way, pain isn’t only a burden for the feminine heart. Guys hurt too – a lot. Interestingly, and contrary to common belief, I’ve seen guys far more torn up after a relationship, while the X rides off into the sunset with a new victim.
However, even the “good” guys have issues with where their blood is headed to.
As the old saying goes “A guy gives love for sex and a girl gives sex for love.” And it’s a fundamental truth in all romantic relationships.
But that doesn’t mean that above the seething sea of hormonal urges guys aren’t fantastic creatures that really just want some love. So cut them some slack, be aware of the sex issue, and if you don’t want it, make sure he knows it from the word go.
In LIfe and Love,
Good luck
THE MAGICIAN
Similarities
I am a Rhodes University first year journalism student. In our course we have to create a blog and post comments and opinions about problems and issues which first year students have to deal with. One of the assignments was to find a global blog which writes about similar issues as that of our own. I found yours. I wrote a post about the ways first year students find numerous ways to procrastinate instead of doing their work. I think your advice on procrastination is very helpful and thus I would like all students to read it. It certainly has helped me.
Generalisations...
You can generalise all you want but the truth is all people are individuals. Your whole opinion piece is full of statements with no evidence to back up what you are saying. To start off with, not everybody refers to university as a "hell". Every person has his/her own opinion about their university experience depending on what they made of it. People don’t dislike like certain individuals for no reason and in my mind there is no such thing as a "lucky strike which makes people popular". Actions and words which are spoken will ultimately determine what people think of you. You have a lot to say about peer pressure and I agree with you that it is still an issue that students have to deal with on a regular basis, BUT is it not time that we learn for ourselves what is right and wrong? Are we not old enough to decide for ourselves what we want to do? If we are not able to do this I think it’s time to grow. I also feel that more research needed to be done to avoid the huge generalisations such as all hippies walk barefoot and all people who enjoy hip-hop music wear baggy clothes.
Your Point?
Your blog is very similar to mine. I am a first year student taking journalism and media studies, and our course work for the fourth term requires us to create a blog and post all our assignments onto it. I was interested to see how you voluntarily decided to write about your first year. You see, us journalism students have been writing on the same subject matter (our first year experiences) all year long and its getting a little bit old. As we have all discovered, there is a limit to how much you can write on your first year experiences, especially when that is all the creative freedom you are given. Anyway, back to the point. When I found your blog, I was immediately intrigued when you stated that you weren’t quite sure why you had created your blog-I found this to be inspiring, and so I carried on reading. Throughout the post, your recalling of memories from “Freshers Fortnight” brought back memories of our version of that, “O-Week” (Orientation Week). And so, thanks, you helped me draw inspiration for my last journalism assignment for this year, a reflexive piece. I hope you “stick to this”...
Who's expectations are you fulfilling?
You make a very strong argument about first years (especially woman) falling victim to eating disorders. There is no joke that eating disorders are serious, however, I do believe that your statement about “most girls” developing an eating disorder is just slightly over exaggerated and generalised. After all, have you yourself developed an eating disorder? I surely haven’t. You state in your article that “most girls” find it difficult to maintain a healthy weight due to outside pressures to look good. You also state that being in university requires you to fulfill others expectations by dressing a certain way. Again, I believe this is a broad statement-have you noticed the amount of odd looking individuals around the drama and fine arts departments? These people have not submitted to the unwritten rule you describe, and I sincerely doubt that they suffer from eating disorders, as they have realised, along with many other students on campus, that life is not about fulfilling someone else’s expectations, but fulfilling your own.
naivety of Lord Humbug III
This inductive argument seems like a rat-and-parrot wired bad joke. Firstly, for one to induce such a generalisation as this person has, based on what narrow glimpse they have on Rhodes’ first years, gives evidence of an infantile ignorance in observations and blinker-blackened reality. Since the writer knows only that which they are writing of, it doesn’t take much to detect fallacy, or fantasy, within the writers reality. How can someone think that everyone is as they are. It’s just this juvenile understanding of being and life that gives substantial grounds to perceive varsity as this writer does. A perception, disillusioned by a state of naïve blindness, such as this person, deserves to stay drunk, aim at 51%, and miss it. This writer deserves to fail, and if only some sense of justice were allowed to come into play, and replace this person with any of the numerous underprivileged, who would welcome a chance at varsity as it were heaven after death, a shot out of hell.
An individual who has not changed for any one or any thing.
Kerryn karrasing sits comfortably on a wooden chair, almost as if she is slumped in front of the television, which is her favourite past time. She has a very positive presence that almost brightens up the room. She appears reserved at first but she is just the opposite.
She pulls her hair over to a messy side parting as she focuses trying to reflect on her first year at Rhodes. She has always been a fun loving girl not concerned about what others think of her. Her childhood is filled with memories of the place she calls home, a farm in the Drakensburg, where her and her siblings had great adventures. She focuses on a place in the distance where she explains how her and her sister Shea used to climb to the top of her favourite mountain and stand under a waterfall which was freezing cold. She shivers as she recalls “the thrill of the freezing cold water.” Living away from civilisation, she was able to experience life of a different kind. There were no shops and nothing to get up to except innocent mischief.
Eventually it was time for this fun loving carefree child to move out of isolation in her beloved home and was sent to St Anne’s boarding school. This was where her morals were tested the most. She explains her first day of boarding school as a frightening experience. On her first day she was put into a room with a “weird Joburg coo girl” this was when she realised how well she had been brought up. Compared to boarding school, first year at Rhodes was not what she expected. She did not choose Rhodes University for and particular reason, just the fact that it had an “awesome hype around it”. The world that she had stepped into was frightening and unsheltered like nothing she had experienced before. Not only was there no, “lights out” but there are no rules. So self discipline was something that she really had to get used to. “The freedom is unbelievable” she states with a smile on her face reaching from ear to ear. With this new found freedom a whole other world of temptations emerged such as drugs, alcohol abuse and not attending lectures. However Kerryn did not sway in the wrong direction although she fitted in perfectly with a group of individuals who “partied until dawn”.
One must not be fooled by her blonde hair and blue eyes; Kerryn is an individual that knows her limits. Even though her adventurous side lets her party until the sun come up she still has limits, which she believes were drilled into her as a child growing up in the isolated Drakensburg mountains. “The thing about me is that I can play hard and work hard.” She takes her academic work seriously, ‘well serious enough to pass’ and giggles as stating so. She manages to balance all aspects of her life and has not changed her ways of life in order to impress the Rhodes community or to make a statement. She continues to be her adventures self but still knows her limits. “I have grown in first year, but it has not changed who I am”.
id=860720047&ref=ts
Kerryn karrasing sits comfortably on a wooden chair, almost as if she is slumped in front of the television, which is her favourite past time. She has a very positive presence that almost brightens up the room. She appears reserved at first but she is just the opposite.
She pulls her hair over to a messy side parting as she focuses trying to reflect on her first year at Rhodes. She has always been a fun loving girl not concerned about what others think of her. Her childhood is filled with memories of the place she calls home, a farm in the Drakensburg, where her and her siblings had great adventures. She focuses on a place in the distance where she explains how her and her sister Shea used to climb to the top of her favourite mountain and stand under a waterfall which was freezing cold. She shivers as she recalls “the thrill of the freezing cold water.” Living away from civilisation, she was able to experience life of a different kind. There were no shops and nothing to get up to except innocent mischief.
Eventually it was time for this fun loving carefree child to move out of isolation in her beloved home and was sent to St Anne’s boarding school. This was where her morals were tested the most. She explains her first day of boarding school as a frightening experience. On her first day she was put into a room with a “weird Joburg coo girl” this was when she realised how well she had been brought up. Compared to boarding school, first year at Rhodes was not what she expected. She did not choose Rhodes University for and particular reason, just the fact that it had an “awesome hype around it”. The world that she had stepped into was frightening and unsheltered like nothing she had experienced before. Not only was there no, “lights out” but there are no rules. So self discipline was something that she really had to get used to. “The freedom is unbelievable” she states with a smile on her face reaching from ear to ear. With this new found freedom a whole other world of temptations emerged such as drugs, alcohol abuse and not attending lectures. However Kerryn did not sway in the wrong direction although she fitted in perfectly with a group of individuals who “partied until dawn”.
One must not be fooled by her blonde hair and blue eyes; Kerryn is an individual that knows her limits. Even though her adventurous side lets her party until the sun come up she still has limits, which she believes were drilled into her as a child growing up in the isolated Drakensburg mountains. “The thing about me is that I can play hard and work hard.” She takes her academic work seriously, ‘well serious enough to pass’ and giggles as stating so. She manages to balance all aspects of her life and has not changed her ways of life in order to impress the Rhodes community or to make a statement. She continues to be her adventures self but still knows her limits. “I have grown in first year, but it has not changed who I am”.
id=860720047&ref=ts
Comment on comic strip
I think this comic was really clever. I enjoyed the way they incorporated the many different places at Rhodes into the action. However the plot was a little boring there could have been more of a twist with the different individual characters to make the story more interesting. But the concept is a good idea, how the characters were all pirates and went to the rat and Parrot, I found this pretty humorous. The actual pictures themselves were well done but there should have been closer snaps of over exaggerated facial expression to really help create the story. I also thought the social comment was relevant, and the DP removal applies to many students who have had their DP s removed. The downfall of this comic is that they did not use Proppian characters, as there was no hero or villain, although all the characters were pirates they should have differed from one another. Maybe one could have been evil and led them on the wrong path to the treasure. Having a hero , villain and other characters would have made it more interesting.
Commented on http://www.1styearspread.blogspot.com/
Commented on http://www.1styearspread.blogspot.com/
Seven Seconds
On a Thursday afternoon, outside Drostdy dining hall, four female students sit in a dilapidated circle on what looks like a sacrificial table. The sun is setting on a pleasant day as the girls casually chat about nothing at all really. There is a certain bite to the air, uncharacteristic of a mid October evening, yet the girls are still sitting an hour later when the sun is about to set over Grahamstown, happily chatting and taking random snap shots. One of the girls acknowledges that what they are doing might look a little odd. Another points out that, being Rhodes students, it is what one would expect of them.
It takes seven seconds to judge someone. Only seven. And then, wham! You’ve got your opinion. Based on what you and only you saw and heard in seven seconds. You can do a lot in seven seconds, can you not? You could show someone identification; depending on how strong you are, you could even open a bottle. However, you can’t have a proper conversation, and let’s be honest, how could you possibly know a person enough to judge them without a conversation?
Nobody even looked twice at the half full bottle in each of their hands. But why would they? After all, they are Rhodes students...
Before you even step onto campus for the first time as a Rhodes student, you are judged. Why, you ask? As it turns out, people have this nasty little habit of generalising. David O’Sullivan form Radio 702 mentioned on his show how University of Pretoria weren’t altogether happy with the fact that they didn’t make it into the top 100 academic tertiary education institutions. He then went on to say that Rhodes wouldn’t make it for academics, but they’d definitely be number one in South Africa for drinking.
Sadly, everyone seems to accept this stereotype. Students use it as an excuse, visiting varsities see it as an opportunity for drunken streaking on an Astroturf, and lectures prefer to use it as an explanation for late deadlines. One such lecturer even went so far as to emailing the students on his first year mailing list stating this assumption as though it was fact.
But, little does he know about his students... Had he walked into local drinking hole, “The Rat” on Monday afternoon, being his opinionated self, he would’ve automatically assumed that the group of first year students gathered around a table with a bottle of port were drinking for the
hell of it. After all, they were Rhodes students. But little would he know they were actually doing an assignment for his class. Ironically, this group’s specific subject matter was the damaging effects of alcohol and drugs, hence, the empty bottle of port (www.im-pressionism.blogspot.com).
The point here is that not all Rhodes students get “drunk and chunder” every weekend and most weekdays, some of them are serious about their studies. There is no denying the fact that drinking goes on at Rhodes, but one must realise that it also takes place at other universities in South Africa. Grahamstown is a small town, thus the behaviour of students is more visible. Therefore, one cannot generalise that all Rhodes students drink. It may take less than seven seconds to realise that someone is drunk, but it doesn’t mean that the person holding him up is too.
Feed my mind!
You want my opinion? On any”common belief about first year”?
Hmm… well how about the one thing that I know is plaguing a large majority of JMS1 students: the Journalism department.
“I’m just sooo over journ! I mean, I came to Rhodes to study JMS and now I actually couldn’t care less about getting into journ2!” is a not an uncommon sentiment among students.
But why is this? I came to Rhodes, burning in anticipation of having the freedom to study what I was interested in. And I was not disappointed. Not initially anyway. Rod Amner’s Introduction to News course really got me revved up. I consumed newspapers like never before and even tuned into SAFm. Suddenly the world was opening up; I was studying at the best journalism department in the country and I was going to become a true, hardcore journalist.
But why is this? I came to Rhodes, burning in anticipation of having the freedom to study what I was interested in. And I was not disappointed. Not initially anyway. Rod Amner’s Introduction to News course really got me revved up. I consumed newspapers like never before and even tuned into SAFm. Suddenly the world was opening up; I was studying at the best journalism department in the country and I was going to become a true, hardcore journalist.
Yea right! At the moment, the thought of enduring another three years at a department that seems to think it houses the second coming is not really on the top of my “want to do” list.
Fact is, I'm bored.
Now I know that university in not supposed to be a circus (hmm…), but if it’s not here that we learn the deadline-tight-rope-dance and the ability to draw a bunny out of a hat, where are we supposed to learn? School did help, a little, but not enough to prepare us for the real stage; the “real world”, where there are no dress rehearsals and backup stage hands. As graduates, we are expected to be fully qualified magicians, able to skilfully work at the speed of light, maintaining a practiced balance between work and play. Out there, if you don't have at least one ace up your sleeve, you’re done.
Instead, more than a month into my final JMS1 course, I have five pages of lecture notes. To someone who is accustomed to taking a minimum of three per lecture (jotting down fact helps me remember) this is highly concerning. And threats of being sent to the front row if I quietly voice my irritation does nothing for my optimism for the course. Sure, the concept of blogging is a fantastic one, and I’m generally satisfied with the assignments. But the lectures… now that’s another issue entirely.
A JMS1 student vehemently vehemently states “that all lectures for first year Journalism and Media Studies students should be compulsory”. If that were the case, I think I’d almost willingly lose my DP. What I find even more disconcerting is the fact that I know that I do not speak for only myself. The idea of learning more about journalists and the blogosphere was initially very exciting. But within a week all I felt was irritation. I sat (and still do) in lectures, waiting for the hat trick – for our lecturers to be transformed from the highly patronising – and sometimes seemingly incompetent - into inspiring fellow journalists. They have much to offer, no doubt, but somehow something is lacking.
One of the core concepts that I will take away from my Drama 1 course this year is the idea of always raising the stakes, always pushing the boundaries. I want, no, I need to sit on the edge of my seat, pen in hand ready for the next invaluable point. This simply is not happening.
The “How to start your blog” lecture was almost physically painful. To me, spending an entire lecture going through something that should take any literate person a matter of minutes is a gross waste of time. And letter writing? Definitely helpful – to those still school. 
Most students are paying between R60 – R75 per lecture. In light of this, and my meagre pages of lecture notes, I really don’t feel that I’m getting my money’s worth. I fully support the core concept of the course, but just not how it is being presented.
I’m not saying that the course should be impossibly difficult or unrealistically demanding. But it would be nice if our two ring masters would stop appearing to think that we know nothing. I didn’t endure 12 years of school just to be retaught what I could have managed with before hitting high school.
Justice for a f*$&@#g Price!
On Friday, the first of August, I had my 21st birthday party at my girlfriend’s digs. We sent little letters to the neighbours, stating that we would try to keep the volume to a minimum, and asked if they could please excuse this one night, since it was the first party to be had on that premise all year… What happened: two months later my girlfriend was served with a disciplinary hearing on the basis of bringing Rhodes’ name into disrepute.
Now, being a private residence, i.e. a digs, I found it hard to fathom how this appeal could have gotten through to the Oppidan committee and taken seriously. I mean, in any normal residential area, if your neighbours are carrying on after twelve, and you have asked them to please quieten down, the rational human being would call the cops. But no, African street works differently. Her neighbours also happen to be two employees of Rhodes University, hmmm, disrepute? Excessive noise? or just an inclination of one employee to another?
Anyway, so we had the party. Yes, we got really drunk, and, yes again, we carried on with the music after they had asked us to be quiet. But here’s my idea on what happened. They asked us to be quiet after 12, then again perhaps at 01:30, and again at about 02:00. Surely they would have realised that we were too inebriated to act accordingly? How many times does it take for one to realise that reasoning doesn’t work after a couple of drinks? Next step? Well, as stated above, the cops maybe? No, not in this particular case. The evidence started to prevail months later that theses two neighbours concerned, actively sought out to get these girls (my girlfriend and her digs mate) punished. Their reason for not calling the cops, which came out in the hearing, was because they have seen how cops handle drunk students, and that they would never dream of putting these two young girls through such an ordeal. Yip, that was their reason. Why would there be an ordeal? Do they actually think that we would question the police’s authority, and even if we did, we would then surely deserve that ill fate upon us, but don’t lie there, in bed, and deviously conspire: “OOO, I can’t wait to nail these bastards!”, which is quite likely what was thought.
After being served with the accusation of bringing Rhodes’ name into disrepute, my girlfriend and I went to all the other neighbours, to ask if they had any qualms on that Friday night, two months ago. No. Next step, we went to see a lawyer. He examined the case, and pointed out that the accusation was not based on loud noise, but that it was in contravening Rule 15.28 of the Student Disciplinary Code: engaging in conduct which is likely to bring Rhodes’ name into disrepute.
So he gave them two options: admit to the offence, and apologise, hoping to come out with a minimal punishment; or to plead guilty of making a noise, but not-guilty of bringing the university’s name into disrepute. We chose the latter, and the two girls went in, and fought the accusations lain against them.
The details of the hearing I do not know, since I wasn’t allowed in. But I do know that on entrance, when greeted by my girlfriend and her digs mate, the neighbours didn’t even respond, nor would they look into their eyes. The case went on, with the mechanical shenanigans of any hearing of the court of law. Hours went by, and no verdict. They were asked to return four days later for the verdict. Sweat and nerves, four days went by. They went to the verdict only to hear… NOT GUILTY.
Relief, yes. Justice, of course. But what buggers me up is that they needed a lawyer to go about it, a lump of cash for justice! So who has to pay the bill? Surely the opposition should be charged with the bill. After all, it was their case, and they lost. Students are trampled upon in this town, especially oppidans. Estate agents, municipality, and now neighbours? Where does the justice lie? Fuck it, I don’t know!
THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY
“It gets better before the end...and if it’s not getting better, it’s not the end.”
It’s nearly the end of Curt’s* first year at varsity, and it is, finally beginning to get better.
This year hasn’t been an easy one for this new Rhodent. He had assumed that that he would quickly establish the life-long bonds that people love claiming one forms at university. But after leaving an incredibly tightly-knit group of high-school friends, nothing measured up. He did make friends, many of them, but no “family”, as he likes to call his close friends.
In the beginning of high school, he might have been described as a first class loser. But he resolved to change, and by matric he was adored by his friends, popular, a budding hockey player, honours student and head boy; the ideal student. Then he came to varsity and things fell apart.
Home has always been a place of conflict, with constant verbal wars being waged between himself and his manic depressive mother. He says that one of his greatest fears is becoming mentally unstable like her. “Am I also going to go crazy?” he ponders. Her illness has resulted in much internal conflict within the family, as well was what Curt considers to be the worst day of his school career.
The night before the prefects were to be announced, his mother and his sister, Kristal, had an argument. In spite, his mother, who had already received a letter informing her of her son’s achievement, forbade Kristel from going to school the next day. Not having the person whom Curt values more than any other at his special day, just ruined it for him completely. He realised then that all his achievements had been an attempt to impress his parents: a childish mother and a father whose conversation rarely extended beyond the issuing of chores. From that day on, he says he was “so over it”, and with his loss of motivation went much of his lust for life. The shining star student began to falter. Fortunately, his amazingly supportive group of six friends stuck by him, giving him the strength to push on.
It was in this despondent state that Curt came to Rhodes, and found himself completely and utterly alone.
“I know that I am a strong, well put-together young man” he says. “But my one fundamental flaw is that I am only that person around my family and friends”. His friends in particular kept him grounded, and without them, he has found staying true to himself impossible. He began cheating regularly on his boyfriend, getting drunk and stoned over and over again. He knew the problem was within himself, having nothing to do with external influences. Despite his many new friends, no one was near enough to dispel the settling gloom and despair that seeped into most every aspect of his life. Despite all its problems, he wanted home.
And so, in September, he finally opened up to his father, confessing that he had had enough and wanted to come home. But, instead of agreeing to this, his father suggested that his mother come down from Johannesburg for a visit. “She’d do that? For me?” Curt says, his lively eyes opening wide. “I couldn’t believe that my Mom would actually come down for a week, just to see me.” And she did. Despite his father’s fears that they might jump at each other’s throats, mother and son bonded as never before. Thanks to her encouragement, Curt now knows that he will have the strength to face next year.
The woman responsible for the worst day in his school career has now become a role model, saving him from himself.
When asked to describe himself, he pauses and picks at the grass absentmindedly. “I'll let u know when I figure that one out, because right now I can’t even explain myself to me, let alone you.” Looking up, he frowns slightly, considering the woman responsible for the worst day in his school career has now become a role model, saving him from himself. Then he adds, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “But time will change, and one day I will be able to look in the mirror two days in a row and see the same person.”
*name changed
It’s nearly the end of Curt’s* first year at varsity, and it is, finally beginning to get better.
This year hasn’t been an easy one for this new Rhodent. He had assumed that that he would quickly establish the life-long bonds that people love claiming one forms at university. But after leaving an incredibly tightly-knit group of high-school friends, nothing measured up. He did make friends, many of them, but no “family”, as he likes to call his close friends.
In the beginning of high school, he might have been described as a first class loser. But he resolved to change, and by matric he was adored by his friends, popular, a budding hockey player, honours student and head boy; the ideal student. Then he came to varsity and things fell apart.
Home has always been a place of conflict, with constant verbal wars being waged between himself and his manic depressive mother. He says that one of his greatest fears is becoming mentally unstable like her. “Am I also going to go crazy?” he ponders. Her illness has resulted in much internal conflict within the family, as well was what Curt considers to be the worst day of his school career.
The night before the prefects were to be announced, his mother and his sister, Kristal, had an argument. In spite, his mother, who had already received a letter informing her of her son’s achievement, forbade Kristel from going to school the next day. Not having the person whom Curt values more than any other at his special day, just ruined it for him completely. He realised then that all his achievements had been an attempt to impress his parents: a childish mother and a father whose conversation rarely extended beyond the issuing of chores. From that day on, he says he was “so over it”, and with his loss of motivation went much of his lust for life. The shining star student began to falter. Fortunately, his amazingly supportive group of six friends stuck by him, giving him the strength to push on.
It was in this despondent state that Curt came to Rhodes, and found himself completely and utterly alone.
“I know that I am a strong, well put-together young man” he says. “But my one fundamental flaw is that I am only that person around my family and friends”. His friends in particular kept him grounded, and without them, he has found staying true to himself impossible. He began cheating regularly on his boyfriend, getting drunk and stoned over and over again. He knew the problem was within himself, having nothing to do with external influences. Despite his many new friends, no one was near enough to dispel the settling gloom and despair that seeped into most every aspect of his life. Despite all its problems, he wanted home.
And so, in September, he finally opened up to his father, confessing that he had had enough and wanted to come home. But, instead of agreeing to this, his father suggested that his mother come down from Johannesburg for a visit. “She’d do that? For me?” Curt says, his lively eyes opening wide. “I couldn’t believe that my Mom would actually come down for a week, just to see me.” And she did. Despite his father’s fears that they might jump at each other’s throats, mother and son bonded as never before. Thanks to her encouragement, Curt now knows that he will have the strength to face next year.
The woman responsible for the worst day in his school career has now become a role model, saving him from himself.
When asked to describe himself, he pauses and picks at the grass absentmindedly. “I'll let u know when I figure that one out, because right now I can’t even explain myself to me, let alone you.” Looking up, he frowns slightly, considering the woman responsible for the worst day in his school career has now become a role model, saving him from himself. Then he adds, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “But time will change, and one day I will be able to look in the mirror two days in a row and see the same person.”
*name changed
Where do I even begin? My shrewd opinion on the ever increasingly popular device known as Facebook is about to be revealed.
Facebook is a social networking device which allows people all over the world to keep in contact with long lost friends as well as current friends. This can be done through writing inbox messages, posts as well as using the instant messaging device. Photos can be examined and commented on and games such as Mob Wars can be played between groups of friends. Not only does Facebook allow access into your friends’ lives, but knowing all the scandal which surrounds you before being told about it is priceless. Personally I think Facebook is absolutely fantastic! Sadly not every first year agrees.
The reason many students do not agree with my opinion that Facebook is something extraordinary comes from the notion of procrastination. I however believe that Facebook is a brilliant form of procrastination. Instead of working I can look at what is going on in my friends’ lives while thinking I am doing something constructive. The problem arises when people do not finish their work due to this excessive procrastination. Facebook becomes addictive I would be the first to tell you. Thus I believe that while Facebook is a skilful device for procrastination all students should find the balance between ‘Facebooking’ and working.
Another celebrated reason for the usage of Facebook is ‘stalking’. There is no better way to find out if the boy or girl you like likes you back or sadly may be in a relationship. However there is an upside if it is discovered that they are in a relationship as this enables people to carry on with their lives and not waste any more time thinking about what might have been or what might not have been.
Facebook provides people with a voyeuristic quality as it allows individuals to gain full knowledge of all different aspects of people’s lives. Some members of Facebook do not block their profiles and thus anyone from anywhere is able to see what is happening in their lives without even being their ‘friend’. This in turn can lead to problems as people may misuse this to defame or victimise certain people if they do not agree with aspects of their life. This can therefore also result in hate speech as people start to develop ‘hate groups’ such as the "I hate Lindsay Lohan" group.
Facebook can be used to make situations less formal and impersonal. Instead of asking someone for their number or going to visit them, one can simply just know their name and add them as a friend on Facebook. Being at Rhodes this complicates things even more. As Rhodes is such a ‘small’ place people hesitate to ask each other for their numbers as they assume that they will bump into each other around campus. With Facebook now in the picture it often completely illuminates the need for number asking.
Although Facebook has both pros and cons, I still believe that it is absolutely fantastic as it enables me to keep up to date with my friends back home at no cost. (And yes of course it also enables me to procrastinate with ‘good’ reason.)
Summer's Surfer Girl
The smell of recently prepared food rises toward the rafters in a dining hall designed decades ago. The heat from the uncharacteristically warm winter’s day starts to subside with the setting of the sun as girls discuss the happenings of the day. The conversation at a particular girls’ table is no more interesting than that of the chatter anywhere else in the weathered room. The eight girls are laughing at each other’s misfortunes. Nobody notices the one girl as she answers her beckoning phone. The laughing around the old oak table continues as her face starts to drop. Nobody notices the sheer shock upon her face. Nobody notices the first tear. And then she disappears as quickly as the warm summer’s sun.
“It never rains,” Courtney Brunton says with her legs up on her desk, “It pours.” Last year was one of the most testing years for Courtney and her family. Having never been to a funeral, she attended two, one of which was her uncle’s. The Brunton’s attended this funeral in white, a stark contrast to the rest of their relatives in black. She looks up to the ceiling as she recalls how her father fell ill a couple of months later. She sits in peace on her chair, leaning back speaking about how she couldn’t recognise the fact that her father was sick. She remembers how even passing matric didn’t seem like a big deal anymore. Her family’s strength is unquestionable; their hope fixed, allowing for her father to make a recovery. But this strength was tested again with the ringing of her cell phone.
When Courtney arrived at Rhodes, she had no idea what she was in store for. Life, as she knew it, was about to change. This care-free surfer girl was about to fully understand the importance of family. She’d always been family orientated, but moving 900 kilometres away from home made it a little different. She wasn’t nervous, as she had the cushion of her older sister who also attended Rhodes, but she had never anticipated just how difficult her first year would be.
After what felt like a frosty and lingering winter, it seemed as though spring might make an early appearance to academic little Grahamstown. Out came the shorts and tee-shirts and the talk around the old, oak tables involved planning a trip to the beach on the weekend.
She stands in the now darkened foyer in her slops with her jeans rolled up at the bottom, staring out the window, her phone held desolately in one hand. Her golden hair cascades over her shoulders, falling in her face covering her swollen eyes. Her father’s cancer had reappeared.
After copious tests and scans, she waited to hear the results. As each week etched on, her hope got stronger. Hero’s are immortal; they don’t die, at least not in her books. They simply weather the storm. Except in this story, this was not the case. Stories were continuous; this one had a time frame. Her story had just gotten worse.
Courtney came to Rhodes with the intention to study psychology. She wanted to do this because she believes that even if she only gives one person hope, it’s worth it. She continues to live by the words “the most dangerous place to be is, without hope” as she knows first hand what it’s like to be in that place where nothing seems to matter anymore. Having found God, Courtney was able to weather the storm the first time. She believes that by the grace of God, she will rise above, her hope instilled again.
Big Ben versus The Clock Tower...
Jenna Sheepers
Tzvetan Todorov defines a narrative structure in five single steps. At the beginning there is harmonious state until an event occurs which disrupts this pleasant state. Later there is an attempt to restore the disrupted state which will thereafter create a new form of melodious state. Jenna Sheepers’ life story can be represented in this form of narrative structure designed by Todorov.
Jenna’s life was pleasant while she was in London. The two years spent in London was described by her to be: "the best years of her life." The disruption of this can be the ending of her two year working holiday visa which expired. Jenna’s recognition of this disruption sent her back to South Africa where she entered a tertiary education facility to allow her to continue with her life. Her restored state of harmony is her acceptance of her life at present.
Jenna was chosen to be interviewed because she has had a very different experience thus far in her life than other first year students.
Jenna’s life was pleasant while she was in London. The two years spent in London was described by her to be: "the best years of her life." The disruption of this can be the ending of her two year working holiday visa which expired. Jenna’s recognition of this disruption sent her back to South Africa where she entered a tertiary education facility to allow her to continue with her life. Her restored state of harmony is her acceptance of her life at present.
Jenna was chosen to be interviewed because she has had a very different experience thus far in her life than other first year students.
Anonymous smoker
Comment on Profile of Mary Anne Khumalo (Anonymous)
This profile has tried and tested the boundaries of controversy. “Smooth Operator” has chosen to profile a fellow first-year who uses cannabis as a means of escapism and a way to deal with the problems of varsity and non-conformity, but…
The article seems at first to be impartial to judgement, by approaching the interviewee naively. This is done through narrative guru Todorov’s initial equilibrium, which is then disrupted when we find out that the interviewee smokes dope.
Smooth Operator says that the interviewee “wows you with her intelligence”! This is hardly justifiable for the interviewee to be using marijuana as a means to escape. The interviewee says: “I know it’s a drug, but I use it responsibly and conventionally…anyway, there are no side effects.” If she was so intelligent, she would know that there are plenty of side effects, and the fact that she uses it to deal with her problems is a side effect. I disagree with her when she states it is a drug, but I cannot accept the juvenile approach of her saying that there are no side effects.
Drugs only work for people in total control, who know exactly what they are experimenting with. So be careful Mary Anne!
Play with fire, you get burned. . .
This profile has tried and tested the boundaries of controversy. “Smooth Operator” has chosen to profile a fellow first-year who uses cannabis as a means of escapism and a way to deal with the problems of varsity and non-conformity, but…
The article seems at first to be impartial to judgement, by approaching the interviewee naively. This is done through narrative guru Todorov’s initial equilibrium, which is then disrupted when we find out that the interviewee smokes dope.
Smooth Operator says that the interviewee “wows you with her intelligence”! This is hardly justifiable for the interviewee to be using marijuana as a means to escape. The interviewee says: “I know it’s a drug, but I use it responsibly and conventionally…anyway, there are no side effects.” If she was so intelligent, she would know that there are plenty of side effects, and the fact that she uses it to deal with her problems is a side effect. I disagree with her when she states it is a drug, but I cannot accept the juvenile approach of her saying that there are no side effects.
Drugs only work for people in total control, who know exactly what they are experimenting with. So be careful Mary Anne!
Play with fire, you get burned. . .
Profile on Jessica Stuart-Clark
A True Survivor
The inspiring story of Jessica Stuart-Clark, first year Rhodes University Student.
By Irene Boshoff
By Irene Boshoff
A true hero as Propp would define Jessica Stuart-Clark in any form of narrative. Bright pictures of friends, family and artworks camouflage her room walls. Seated on her bed beneath a green, yellow, red and purple monster face duvet, Jessica comes to life.
Jessica was born in Johannesburg and raised in Cape Town from the age of seven. Throughout her life she has always been taught by her parents to be confident, independent and sure of herself. These strong characteristics start to reveal themselves as the conversation with Jessica continues. During her final years at St. Cyprian’s High School for girls, she succeeded in obtaining a scholarship to study at Rhodes University through the de Beer’s English Olympiad. A first year student at Rhodes University is where she finds herself today.
At present Jessica is still constantly reminded of the horrors and difficulties she had to encounter as a teen: "I have been through a lot in my life thus far, awful things which are too personal to mention. I do believe though, that through these difficult times and through the traumatic experiences I have become a stronger person. I also believe that dealing with all of it has made me the person I am today," explains Jessica rather abruptly.
Coming to Rhodes University Jessica thought she could escape the ongoing reminders that bring with them large amounts of sadness. However, this was not to be the case. "When arriving at Rhodes I thought I would be free. I moved into Oriel House Annex and shared a room with a girl, Caitlin Anderson, who was soon to become my best friend and role model," says Jessica softly almost as if saddened. The unhappy tone of her voice is understood as she continues: "six months later Caitlin left." Jessica was forced to deal with distressing events which occurred early on in the year on her own. The happenings of the first and second term involved another of Jessica’s friends. She puts the events in plain hart broken words: "One of my closest friends tried to commit suicide which was incredibly difficult for me to deal with. But just like the high school experiences it has now only made me stronger."
Through her knowledge Jessica wishes for every first year student to learn something very important in university life: "Everyone gets so caught up in the ‘safe’ Rhodes bubble that they forget real life still continues and bad things still happen." She wants everyone to be prepared for what may or may not happen, so that no one is caught off guard.
Today Jessica Stuart-Clark is seen as Oriel House’s heroin. This is because many of the Oriel girls know about Jessica’s past experiences and what she deals with on a daily basis. Yet, she is always prancing around the residence with a smile on her face and kind words for everyone. Nerusha Appalraju, close friend of Jessica shares her feelings by saying: "She is definitely my hero, no matter what this Propp person defines a hero as!"
Jessica was born in Johannesburg and raised in Cape Town from the age of seven. Throughout her life she has always been taught by her parents to be confident, independent and sure of herself. These strong characteristics start to reveal themselves as the conversation with Jessica continues. During her final years at St. Cyprian’s High School for girls, she succeeded in obtaining a scholarship to study at Rhodes University through the de Beer’s English Olympiad. A first year student at Rhodes University is where she finds herself today.
At present Jessica is still constantly reminded of the horrors and difficulties she had to encounter as a teen: "I have been through a lot in my life thus far, awful things which are too personal to mention. I do believe though, that through these difficult times and through the traumatic experiences I have become a stronger person. I also believe that dealing with all of it has made me the person I am today," explains Jessica rather abruptly.
Coming to Rhodes University Jessica thought she could escape the ongoing reminders that bring with them large amounts of sadness. However, this was not to be the case. "When arriving at Rhodes I thought I would be free. I moved into Oriel House Annex and shared a room with a girl, Caitlin Anderson, who was soon to become my best friend and role model," says Jessica softly almost as if saddened. The unhappy tone of her voice is understood as she continues: "six months later Caitlin left." Jessica was forced to deal with distressing events which occurred early on in the year on her own. The happenings of the first and second term involved another of Jessica’s friends. She puts the events in plain hart broken words: "One of my closest friends tried to commit suicide which was incredibly difficult for me to deal with. But just like the high school experiences it has now only made me stronger."
Through her knowledge Jessica wishes for every first year student to learn something very important in university life: "Everyone gets so caught up in the ‘safe’ Rhodes bubble that they forget real life still continues and bad things still happen." She wants everyone to be prepared for what may or may not happen, so that no one is caught off guard.
Today Jessica Stuart-Clark is seen as Oriel House’s heroin. This is because many of the Oriel girls know about Jessica’s past experiences and what she deals with on a daily basis. Yet, she is always prancing around the residence with a smile on her face and kind words for everyone. Nerusha Appalraju, close friend of Jessica shares her feelings by saying: "She is definitely my hero, no matter what this Propp person defines a hero as!"
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=595350230
Searching through the Sierras
How many first-years do you know that didn’t come straight from school? How many spent a year in the bush, patrolling in an anti-poaching unit? How many have lived in London, Italy or Thailand? Or how many have lived in a Zulu homestead, and taken people out onto the continental shelves of the warm Indian Ocean, instructing them on deep-sea reef-dives, and been responsible for their lives? Barry Sierra has seen some adventure.
The first thing you will notice upon introduction to this man is his immense difference from any other first year. He is older, sure, but with that age he carries a humble peace, so much so, that meeting his calm calculated gaze you become entwined in an overall stillness, delicately insured when he says: "No need for all the complexities of modern man, no need for stressing about the future, we’re here now, and that’s where we need to begin."
Barry matriculated in 2002, with wild ideas of studying further, having various options of university. This changed in that first December, when a timeless tragedy struck him and a loved one. This altered Barry’s life: "My faith in mankind had been shattered. I had space for only one thought, freedom!" he says. Unable to accept the comfort of a routine life at varsity, Barry set out to do some travelling across Europe. On return, a year later, Barry worked odd jobs until his sea-based passion led him to Sodwana Bay, on the east-coast of South Africa. Here he became a Master Diver. His life was lived in board-shorts on a little boat, "helping tourists familiarise the wondrous realm beneath the surface of the ocean", he says. He then pursued a chance to build onto his diving experience, and left South Africa to visit the distant shores of Thailand. However, this time did not yield any sort of peace. "Thailand only added fuel to the fire in my mind, I came back embittered and angry with everyone and everything around me," he explains.
Upon his return from the East, still affected by the injustice of man, Barry engaged in various bush-training courses on first-aid, survival and rifle shooting. The days in the bush were "times of reflection, in which, I tried to rediscover my vision in life and ultimately, my humanity." Barry spent a year in the African Bush, from Kololo to the Timbavati, Addo Park to Phinda. He lived in the wilderness of these wild, untamed places he called home.
Solitude is the best way to describe the six years of Barry’s life prior to these days at Rhodes. Our interview is at his house, a small bachelor flat lined with decorations of Eastern influence, and a sweet aroma of Indian incense. For Barry, solitude has "been the quiet space that allowed me to reconnect with myself and discover what my path in life needs to be. I realized I had to change myself before I could help anyone else. In solitude I found my peace and my centre again. My mission in life has become to help others and serve them selflessly."
Since the life of solitude ends quite abruptly on entrance to varsity life, Barry explains how he came to be a Rhodent: "In the words of Ghandi, I made up my mind to ‘become the change I wanted to see in the world’. I dedicated myself to others and the pursuit of peace and progress for those that had only known hardship." This is why he has decided to gain the knowledge that Rhodes and the JMS department has to offer. He has learned to fit in to the cogs of Grahamstown’s networks, and initiated a community development program for The Oppidan Press. On questioning Nicole, another first year and friend of Barry: "He was very mysterious at first, I couldn’t make him out." This is the common perception I expect. But when one is blessed with the engagement of an emotive conversation with Barry, one respects his mysterious virtue with an utmost understanding and appreciation.
Dear Claire Bear…
Ah my dear friend, remember the days when you used to think of how amazing going to university would be? Where you could just do whatever you felt like. No pressure and no stress. Well my friend that is definitely not the case. You should know that University is nothing like you have ever experienced before. You think that school dealt out a lot of deadlines to meet.
Well here at Rhodes I suppose it is worse because you have to juggle your whole entire life by yourself without the help of your parents which you probably think are ruining your life. They are probably just trying to keep you on the right tracks. I wish I could warn you about the intense lifestyle which you will have to take part in, in order to keep up appearances. This is the huge problem as you will be dragged into the party world full of fun. The huge part of this party scene is the way everyone drinks. No one enjoys a glass of wine or two, people just drink to get absolutely motherless. Maybe there are some people who don’t behave like this, but I have not met any! I want to encourage you to keep on striving towards your goals and do your homework. It is so easy to just forget about your degree and party all the time, 24/7, but in the end you will be the one who will have lost out. Every one says that you can party and then do your work the next day. This does not always happen as you will probably be very hung over from the night before. I encourage you to take pride in your work and for heavens sake go to lectures. It will all be worth it in the end when you get to come back for second year.
By Claire MartinG08m3422
Ah my dear friend, remember the days when you used to think of how amazing going to university would be? Where you could just do whatever you felt like. No pressure and no stress. Well my friend that is definitely not the case. You should know that University is nothing like you have ever experienced before. You think that school dealt out a lot of deadlines to meet.
Well here at Rhodes I suppose it is worse because you have to juggle your whole entire life by yourself without the help of your parents which you probably think are ruining your life. They are probably just trying to keep you on the right tracks. I wish I could warn you about the intense lifestyle which you will have to take part in, in order to keep up appearances. This is the huge problem as you will be dragged into the party world full of fun. The huge part of this party scene is the way everyone drinks. No one enjoys a glass of wine or two, people just drink to get absolutely motherless. Maybe there are some people who don’t behave like this, but I have not met any! I want to encourage you to keep on striving towards your goals and do your homework. It is so easy to just forget about your degree and party all the time, 24/7, but in the end you will be the one who will have lost out. Every one says that you can party and then do your work the next day. This does not always happen as you will probably be very hung over from the night before. I encourage you to take pride in your work and for heavens sake go to lectures. It will all be worth it in the end when you get to come back for second year.
By Claire MartinG08m3422
Dear Little Newbie
So, I hear that you’ve decided to take the great leap into the unknown chasm otherwise known as varsity. You must be expecting a whole new world equally overstocked with surprises and horrors. And well you should.
Many people refer to university as a time of transition; a time of change and self discovery. What they don’t tell you is that it is also a time of great fear, pretence, intense loneliness and, once the novelty of freedom has worn off, acute homesickness. Ten to one, you will battle with the abhorrent feelings of anonymity and isolation – even despite having good friends.
What makes everything even worse is that when you look around you, everyone seems to be doing just fine. Yea right! Behind all those exuberant facades lie hurt, anger and fear. The worst part is that most people maintain these fake smiles so effectively that everyone else thinks they are alone in their suffering. But don’t be fooled. If you think you’re the only one battling with homesickness, think again. Behind the latched doors of their res rooms, countless new students release the tide of tears they feel they should be too old to shed.
In first year, I had the privilege of having the sweetest girl as a next door neighbor in res. Although we didn’t communicate too often, I enjoyed her company. She was such a sweet and friendly person, and when homesickness really started getting me depressed in the second term, she was very supportive. She said she knew what it meant to be depressed, to feel completely and utterly alone. But it simply didn’t seem possible that someone with such a positive demeanor could understand.
Two months later I walked into her room expecting the usual hearty hug and chat. Instead she was sitting with pills all over her dresser, trying to steady her hand enough to take them.
So expect parties, best friends and probably the best days of your life. But also be prepared for great trial.
Ever truthfully,
The New Old-timer
Many people refer to university as a time of transition; a time of change and self discovery. What they don’t tell you is that it is also a time of great fear, pretence, intense loneliness and, once the novelty of freedom has worn off, acute homesickness. Ten to one, you will battle with the abhorrent feelings of anonymity and isolation – even despite having good friends.
What makes everything even worse is that when you look around you, everyone seems to be doing just fine. Yea right! Behind all those exuberant facades lie hurt, anger and fear. The worst part is that most people maintain these fake smiles so effectively that everyone else thinks they are alone in their suffering. But don’t be fooled. If you think you’re the only one battling with homesickness, think again. Behind the latched doors of their res rooms, countless new students release the tide of tears they feel they should be too old to shed.
In first year, I had the privilege of having the sweetest girl as a next door neighbor in res. Although we didn’t communicate too often, I enjoyed her company. She was such a sweet and friendly person, and when homesickness really started getting me depressed in the second term, she was very supportive. She said she knew what it meant to be depressed, to feel completely and utterly alone. But it simply didn’t seem possible that someone with such a positive demeanor could understand.
Two months later I walked into her room expecting the usual hearty hug and chat. Instead she was sitting with pills all over her dresser, trying to steady her hand enough to take them.
So expect parties, best friends and probably the best days of your life. But also be prepared for great trial.
Ever truthfully,
The New Old-timer
Dear Irene
Remember the feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you knew for certain that you would be coming to Rhodes University the following year? That feeling was not caused by nervousness or excitement but rather panic as you were leaving behind your ‘Cape Town lifestyle’. You thought nothing back home would ever be the same again.
The dread you felt about leaving your friends and family behind sprouted because you were afraid of change. You even started to worry about never seeing the strange and silly things your parents would do, even though you always hated it.
Do you recall the time Dad was being overly silly in the Longbeach shopping mall? You thought things could not possibly get worse after being woken up to the sound of Springbok Nude Girls blasting from the lounge one Saturday morning. Well things definitely got worse as the day progressed in parental madness. While doing the monthly grocery shopping at Pick ‘n Pay some ancient 80s song started playing over the speakers. Mom was busy choosing which deodorant to buy when shockingly all of a sudden Dad started dancing in the most absurd way possible, index finger pointing to the ground and totally off beat! He did not seem to care who was watching him and what they might be thinking. You felt like the world was about to end. Remember thinking, "RUN Irene, no wait, I can’t do that! Sherbet balls imagine I met these people one day, what will they think of me? This is an absolute shambles!"
Looking back now on that particular episode and many others makes us realise how lucky we are to have fun parents. It makes us appreciate them more when we are away from them.
We wish someone advised us that things would not change that drastically when coming to University. Mom and Dad are just as silly as they were before and friends still treat us exactly the same. It’s like we never left. We have now learnt to appreciate these people more.
Your new biggest Springbok Nude Girl’s fan,
Irene xxx
The dread you felt about leaving your friends and family behind sprouted because you were afraid of change. You even started to worry about never seeing the strange and silly things your parents would do, even though you always hated it.
Do you recall the time Dad was being overly silly in the Longbeach shopping mall? You thought things could not possibly get worse after being woken up to the sound of Springbok Nude Girls blasting from the lounge one Saturday morning. Well things definitely got worse as the day progressed in parental madness. While doing the monthly grocery shopping at Pick ‘n Pay some ancient 80s song started playing over the speakers. Mom was busy choosing which deodorant to buy when shockingly all of a sudden Dad started dancing in the most absurd way possible, index finger pointing to the ground and totally off beat! He did not seem to care who was watching him and what they might be thinking. You felt like the world was about to end. Remember thinking, "RUN Irene, no wait, I can’t do that! Sherbet balls imagine I met these people one day, what will they think of me? This is an absolute shambles!"
Looking back now on that particular episode and many others makes us realise how lucky we are to have fun parents. It makes us appreciate them more when we are away from them.
We wish someone advised us that things would not change that drastically when coming to University. Mom and Dad are just as silly as they were before and friends still treat us exactly the same. It’s like we never left. We have now learnt to appreciate these people more.
Your new biggest Springbok Nude Girl’s fan,
Irene xxx
Welcome Weathered One
Welcome to the world of the unknown. You may think that you know a great deal, but let me advise you now, this is not the case. All your life you have dreamed of goodbyes. Your lust for airports and adventure seems never satisfied; but soon it’ll become old hat. You’ll grace the gates over and over, yet each time, it’ll become harder and harder to say goodbye. Now, you may seem indifferent when it comes to goodbyes. You may feel you can’t wait to get away. You don’t care. But beware of your irrationality dear friend, because soon you’ll be torn in two between your want to get away and your need to get away. After a couple of arrivals, you’ll soon realise, your ties will never escape you. It’ll take an act of nature for you to recognise that life is passing you by. You’ll ride the bumpy silence with frightened hands grabbing for your support. You could have landed on either side of the road, but fate will show you that you have a lesson to learn. Not because you’ve misbehaved, not because you’ve failed. She will teach you that you cannot constantly try to control. Things will happen that’ll seem unfair; you’ll just have to learn to accept them. Dear friend, you cannot please everyone and you cannot always save them. You’ve never been naïve, but that doesn’t mean you can’t stop learning.Her clouded eyes will haunt every time you say goodbye. It’s no joke that it gets more difficult every time, but keep in mind, saying goodbye does not mean its forever. So welcome weathered one. Welcome to the world of the unknown.
See you on the other side…
Dianne
See you on the other side…
Dianne
Dear safe youngster
This is not a letter to fill you with dismay and discouragement, but quite the contraire indeed. I write from a time ahead that is brimmed and bubbling with all the greatness you may have dreamed of, yet I shall include that which is not spoken of often, that which is necessary in order to gain that personal retrospective pride.
I am talking about the anxiety of answers, or the anxiety of no answers at all. I am talking about gaining insight into the absurd situation of life, and really reeling in an anguish of utter despair. This is the side I saw, dear one, a side that my interests sent me plummeting into, to stagger, and cry, and be absorbed by sheer pessimistic hopelessness… But wait.
Remember all those questions of faith that answers gained no concrete absolute, circling in riddles that bore no definite end? Well, they never do come to some objective reality. They never present the divine closure that one so adamantly requires.
Delving into the abyss of the past and its scriptures, you find that the only truth is the one you are capable of constructing subjectively, as coherently and rationally as possible. Sticking together fragments of other men’s thought, to construct the identity and belief that you favour. I believe Francis Bacon said: “A little philosophy inclineth man’s mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds to religion.”
This provides hope in its own accord. The fact of hopelessness is a mere scaffold of
hope.
You see, my younger one, by gaining insight you gain ignorance. And as much as it may seem to lead you backwards, the results are more than often eventually moving forward.
Yours hopingly
Timothy Gabb
I am talking about the anxiety of answers, or the anxiety of no answers at all. I am talking about gaining insight into the absurd situation of life, and really reeling in an anguish of utter despair. This is the side I saw, dear one, a side that my interests sent me plummeting into, to stagger, and cry, and be absorbed by sheer pessimistic hopelessness… But wait.
Remember all those questions of faith that answers gained no concrete absolute, circling in riddles that bore no definite end? Well, they never do come to some objective reality. They never present the divine closure that one so adamantly requires.
Delving into the abyss of the past and its scriptures, you find that the only truth is the one you are capable of constructing subjectively, as coherently and rationally as possible. Sticking together fragments of other men’s thought, to construct the identity and belief that you favour. I believe Francis Bacon said: “A little philosophy inclineth man’s mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds to religion.”
This provides hope in its own accord. The fact of hopelessness is a mere scaffold of
hope.
You see, my younger one, by gaining insight you gain ignorance. And as much as it may seem to lead you backwards, the results are more than often eventually moving forward.
Yours hopingly
Timothy Gabb
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