Our local trains are quite different from ones abroad, I guess. For one thing, we have entertainers on board who do all kinds of stuff, from singing a capella, to making farmyard noises (yes, really), to preaching fire and brimstone. These are usually accompanied by a tin going around for collections. It can be very interesting, although I have been told that if you take the train regularly, it all becomes a bit much! For another thing, we have hawkers on some trains - selling potato chips, toffees, cold drinks (which they carry around in buckets of ice), second-hand books, plastic toys and so forth. It provides people with a much-needed income.
So on my train trip some weeks ago, I bought this plastic toy - you draw on it with a magnetized pen, and then you can clear the drawing by sweeping the lever across. It has been quite useful for me to practice quick drawings, mostly while watching DVDs ...
Time for a few salads, I think. I try to eat one large salad a day, and to feed my habit, have started planting my own lettuce, with varying degrees of success. The current batch is doing well, and has already provided me with the basis of a few lunches.
Salad leaves, just picked ...
Salad leaves with roast butternut, feta, radish, apple, cucumber, croutons, slivered almonds and linseeds.
Have I posted this one before? Can't remember ... Salad leaves with pear slices, cucumber, croutons and grated parmesan cheese.
Last Saturday I visited Infecting the City with two friends. To add to the fun we went by train. I last took this suburban train 27 years ago - can you believe it? Contrary to expectations (and fears, since one always hears the bad stories about people getting mugged or thrown off the train) it was very pleasant. The carriage was quite clean and there were more than enough fellow passengers (this depends on the time of day, I am sure) to feel safe but not crowded. It was great not to have to sit in the car hunched over the steering wheel for 50 minutes, teeth clenched and nerves shot, wasting petrol, and then struggling to find parking. So all in all a good experience.(But jeez, Metrorail, do something about the CT station toilets! They are quite, quite horrible - talk about infecting the city ...)
Daniel - a railways employee with baggage trolley at the station. He asked me to please publish his name in the newspaper. He seemed sad when I said that I was not a journalist, so I explained that I would publish the photo on the internet, at which he cheered up considerably. He gave only his first name. So Daniel, this one is especially for you.
3600 - an art installation about the extent of rape in this country.
Walking the Rose Path
Angels at Golden Acre Centre, waiting for the clock to strike 12.
In the Slave Church in Long Street - Antjie in Berlin - a performance work with piano, electronic sounds, and the recorded voice of Antjie Krog reading some of the material from her book Begging to be Black.
On Saturday we had our first public rehearsal of the performance piece, Every 3 Minutes*, conceived and created by artist Colleen Ross. The piece addresses the horrifying frequency of child rape.
Embroidering the tiny and delicate christening robes.
Ringing the bell to mark the passing of 3 minutes.
Threading the needle.
Undoing the hoop.
Folding the dress.
Packing away the dress in the suitcase.
Removing the dresses from the tree.
Closing the box.
The end of the performance - we walk away.
*From the performance notes:
Every Three Minutes
by Colleen Ross
Every Three Minutes is a performance artwork that deals with child rape. Christening robes are being embroidered with information about child rape and murder. quotations from children, shameful legal interpretations, lack of justice, child rights, statistics and details of crimes. The intention is to show respect to the victims and draw attention to ways in which the public can act constructively by aiding various organisations. The fragile little dresses symbolise vulnerability, beauty, hope and love. The act of embroidering evokes centuries of loving, caring and nurturing of infants by their mothers. As we examine the dresses we realise that the embroidered text deals with appalling violence, suffering and often death of innocents. During the performance which lasts 50 minutes, a bell tolls every three minutes to symbolise a rape. At this point a dress is lovingly folded and reverently placed in a suitcase. When the last dress is packed into the suitcase, the performers slowly gather their belongings and leave the scene