Northern Lights Southern Cross is a Canadian immigrant’s journal. My spouse and I have been living in Alberta for twelve years now, and this rugged landscape has become our home. These entries describe our journey through the days...our random thoughts, our lofty dreams, our faltering steps, our bright hopes. Please join us for a brief sojourn or an entire season.
16 July 2010
Tyla Mari
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Four sisters & our mom
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The fabulous FORTIES
On Sunday, July 11, one of my adopted brothers (spiritually speaking) turned 40. A few years ago I received a photo-card in the mail asking me to consider becoming his sister, since he didn't have one. :-)
To date it has been a short but sweet sibling-ship of growth and grace and joy--and some sharp learning curves! As with regular brothers and sisters, we fight from time to time, but it is truly marvellous seeing God's forgiveness in action in my adopted family. We are kingdom siblings, too, and work together quite companionably.
On Tuesday, July 13, another brother in Christ celebrated his 40th, and I am proud to call him my friend. (He has a VERY large circle of loved ones!) Once a month he and I--along with others invited by him--get together for a day of silence and solitude. His friendship is one of my safe places, and I trust his heart completely.
And today a South African friend (whom we met in Prague in '95) also turns 40. MR kept me playing piano when others had given up. He inspires me, challenges me and provides much food for thought during our infrequent but lengthy phone calls (one of which we'll have shortly). He has been instrumental (!) and inspirational on many levels in my life, and in Dec/Jan he willingly hosted four of us in his home. And he invited me back!!
I love you, B, R and M. Thanks for blessing my life. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Any other Readers born in 1970?
Next month my best friend since childhood, Bronwyn Wilson, celebrates her 40th ... and the list goes on. 'Tis not long before my own four-oh will appear on the horizon.
CONGRATULATIONS, one and all!
To date it has been a short but sweet sibling-ship of growth and grace and joy--and some sharp learning curves! As with regular brothers and sisters, we fight from time to time, but it is truly marvellous seeing God's forgiveness in action in my adopted family. We are kingdom siblings, too, and work together quite companionably.
On Tuesday, July 13, another brother in Christ celebrated his 40th, and I am proud to call him my friend. (He has a VERY large circle of loved ones!) Once a month he and I--along with others invited by him--get together for a day of silence and solitude. His friendship is one of my safe places, and I trust his heart completely.
And today a South African friend (whom we met in Prague in '95) also turns 40. MR kept me playing piano when others had given up. He inspires me, challenges me and provides much food for thought during our infrequent but lengthy phone calls (one of which we'll have shortly). He has been instrumental (!) and inspirational on many levels in my life, and in Dec/Jan he willingly hosted four of us in his home. And he invited me back!!
I love you, B, R and M. Thanks for blessing my life. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Any other Readers born in 1970?
Next month my best friend since childhood, Bronwyn Wilson, celebrates her 40th ... and the list goes on. 'Tis not long before my own four-oh will appear on the horizon.
CONGRATULATIONS, one and all!
Girls at Guy's
Today is my friend and longtime accountability partner's birthday.
{Thanks for celebrating with me at Guy's today, Girls.}
Trio Barbie D, Rhonda P and Christine L have been getting together with me for more than ten years already to share our spiritual (and physical) struggles. We do not worship at the same sanctuaries, or live in the same city, or even have the same interests; our families look completely different and our ages range from 30-something (for six more months) to 40s and 50s.
BUT our friendship runs soul-deep, despite our differences--or because of some of them--and when we get together, IT'S A PARTY! (And we can cry if we want to.)
Guy's Café & Bakery owner, Monsieur Joudrie himself, got Barb up on her chair (in a crowded house at lunch hour) and gathered all his staff around him to offer a horrendous rendition of Happy Birthday. Children in the vicinity grabbed their mothers, dogs put their paws over their ears, cats fled, and in the distance wolves howled. Even I blushed, on Barb's behalf. But we certainly always remember our get togethers! Often one of us will show up absent (CSL was missing in action today), but we get together when we can, and have re-committed to doing so each month or two. (When I lived in Calgary we met weekly, then Barb moved to Mexico, and then I moved to Cochrane ... but time and space cannot separate us for long.)
One thing remains constant: our love and deep loyalty for one another, in sickness and in health.
To Guy's Girls: cheers!
[I would post a pretty pic here, but we forgot to take one in the midst of all that insane laughter. Watch this space for our Sept gathering of girls. Oh, wait--I have one of the four of us taken at Barb's daughter's wedding last summer.]
{Thanks for celebrating with me at Guy's today, Girls.}
Trio Barbie D, Rhonda P and Christine L have been getting together with me for more than ten years already to share our spiritual (and physical) struggles. We do not worship at the same sanctuaries, or live in the same city, or even have the same interests; our families look completely different and our ages range from 30-something (for six more months) to 40s and 50s.
BUT our friendship runs soul-deep, despite our differences--or because of some of them--and when we get together, IT'S A PARTY! (And we can cry if we want to.)
Guy's Café & Bakery owner, Monsieur Joudrie himself, got Barb up on her chair (in a crowded house at lunch hour) and gathered all his staff around him to offer a horrendous rendition of Happy Birthday. Children in the vicinity grabbed their mothers, dogs put their paws over their ears, cats fled, and in the distance wolves howled. Even I blushed, on Barb's behalf. But we certainly always remember our get togethers! Often one of us will show up absent (CSL was missing in action today), but we get together when we can, and have re-committed to doing so each month or two. (When I lived in Calgary we met weekly, then Barb moved to Mexico, and then I moved to Cochrane ... but time and space cannot separate us for long.)
One thing remains constant: our love and deep loyalty for one another, in sickness and in health.
To Guy's Girls: cheers!
[I would post a pretty pic here, but we forgot to take one in the midst of all that insane laughter. Watch this space for our Sept gathering of girls. Oh, wait--I have one of the four of us taken at Barb's daughter's wedding last summer.]
WTN: vuvuzela
This Word Tasting Note simply has to appear alongside my recent vuvuzela blog inserts:
From: James Harbeck <james@harbeck.ca>
Date: 11 June 2010 22:30
Subject: WTN: vuvuzela
To: wtn <word-tasting-notes@googlegroups.com>
Date: 11 June 2010 22:30
Subject: WTN: vuvuzela
To: wtn <word-tasting-notes@googlegroups.com>
vuvuzela
This word was first brought to my attention today. I was assured that if I didn't know what it meant yet, I would by the time the World Cup was over. That was a bit of a hint. I assumed it wasn't the name of a star player, and I knew it wasn't the name of a country (Venezuela does come close). Once I knew it had to do with noise, it seemed possible it might be a sort of ululation with the uvula. But in fact the only body part directly involved is not one the name of which resembles vuvuzela.
I could fantasize that it's the name of some South African version of Godzilla, and in one way there's some validity: it has considerable destructive force with its sound (indeed, it is blow to "kill off" the opponents). But that's the sound in the ensemble, which is that of hundreds or thousands of them being blown full blast in the last quarter of a game. And what is that sound? Well, it's the sound of a metre-long cheap plastic horn. It's not like the tooters used in North America for sports and parties, which tend to have reeds embedded; the vuvuzela is simply a horn like other horns in that it channels a Bronx cheer into an ear-splitting blast. Very rapidly, the lips vibrate together-apart-together-apart vuvu, and the noise is like a very loud vuvu indeed.
And will it surprise you that this vuvu is a Zulu vuvu? Vuvuzela means "making a vuvu noise" or, more exactly, "vuvu-ing". It happens that it also is thought to be related to township slang for "shower", perhaps because it looks a bit like a shower head, but it may be that the shower head is called what it is because it looks like a vuvuzela. It is apparently coincidence that the Zulu root for the verb "swell" is -vuvuka. Just as well: that's not the "swell" of "swell toy!" or even of "the music swells"; it's the "swell" your eye does when someone has hit it.
More likely your ear. But whatever. South Africans from Tutu to Mandela are familiar with the vuvuzela. Some go out of their way to avoid it. It has been suggested that it is rooted in the toot of a kudu horn. But it is not some ancient tribal instrument; it was invented somewhere in the last 40 years, originally made of metal, and really only started to be popular in the 1990s; the now-ubiquitous plastic versions, cheap and not readily weaponizable, made in colours to correspond to one's preferred team, started being mass-produced in 2001. And now it's already a dominating presence at South African football matches.
So, kudu or no kudu, the vuvu is a lulu when it comes to its toot-toot-tooting, capable of producing hearing damage. Commentators tend to hate it, as it drowns them out; even the players find it can make communication difficult. But there it is: a brand-new deeply rooted tradition of exuberant communication that makes communication nearly impossible. Welcome to South Africa! Voulez-vous? Ngicela!*
Thanks to Amy Toffelmire for telling me about the vuvuzela. Read more about it at http://blog.medbroadcast.com/?p=6490 and http://www.southafrica.info/2010/vuvuzela.htm , among other places.
*Ngicela: "please" in Zulu. The ngi is like the middle of "sing geek" and the c is a click made with the tip of the tongue as in "tsk". As is usual in Zulu, the vowel in the second-last syllable is longer.
--
Ciao, James.
Feel free to pass this on to friends. If you've received it as a forward, feel free to join the Word Tasting Notes email list at http://groups.google.ca/group/word-tasting-notes .
Please do send suggestions for words to taste to me: james@harbeck.ca.
Visit my blog at http://sesquiotic.wordpress.com .
Feel free to pass this on to friends. If you've received it as a forward, feel free to join the Word Tasting Notes email list at http://groups.google.ca/group/word-tasting-notes .
Please do send suggestions for words to taste to me: james@harbeck.ca.
Visit my blog at http://sesquiotic.wordpress.com .
Giant Vuvuzela in Cape Town
A giant vuvuzela was erected on unfinished highway in Green Point --
it made a noise every time a goal was scored in Cape Town Stadium.
it made a noise every time a goal was scored in Cape Town Stadium.
Inspir-hasie
Vir my Afrikaanse lesers:
| Hasie: ● Wat noem jy 'n deurskynende hasie? Spasie ● En 'n hasie in die Spur? Inspurhasie! |
11 July 2010
Lost and found
Hip hippo Ray! My luggage is here (as am I, after a couple of days of rest). The suitcases didn’t make it onto my London flight from Johannesburg last weekend, and so the first couple of Heathrow flights revealed nothing. I honestly thought I’d seen the last of my luggage, and I was okay with that—what’s one more bag after losing a whole container to Hurricane Mitch in 1998? But the airport staff tracked our bags (mine and another Red Deer passenger’s) all the way back to Africa, thankfully. It was fun unpacking: my sister had put little treats in my shoes. “Did you pack this bag yourself?!”
It pains me to say this, but healthwise my ear and lungs are still bothering me, and I may head back to the doc this week—albeit reluctantly, after three doses of antibiotics (not great for one’s body).
Off to church now and then to watch the World Cup Soccer Final. Go, Holland!
It pains me to say this, but healthwise my ear and lungs are still bothering me, and I may head back to the doc this week—albeit reluctantly, after three doses of antibiotics (not great for one’s body).
Off to church now and then to watch the World Cup Soccer Final. Go, Holland!
07 July 2010
06 July 2010
05 July 2010
Ode written by my niece
P.S. By my niece, Ashleigh Dianne Roberts:
A special someone
From over the sea
She could’ve visited anyone
But instead she came to me
She knows so many people
And has so many friends
She could’ve seen the pope at the steeple
But she came to be my special friend
She could’ve gone to Germany or Rome
She could’ve gone to England and Spain
But instead she came home
And because of her visit I will never be the same
I’m so very glad you came
Until we meet again
Thanks so much for coming
Dearest Aunty Elaine
A special someone
From over the sea
She could’ve visited anyone
But instead she came to me
She knows so many people
And has so many friends
She could’ve seen the pope at the steeple
But she came to be my special friend
She could’ve gone to Germany or Rome
She could’ve gone to England and Spain
But instead she came home
And because of her visit I will never be the same
I’m so very glad you came
Until we meet again
Thanks so much for coming
Dearest Aunty Elaine
Home away from home
Dear NLSC Readers, kingdom colleagues, neighbours, travelling companions, kin, cousins (old and newly discovered) and other interested parties—and miscellaneous folk I hope will be interested!
As many of you know, I flew to South Africa in May for six weeks. If you didn’t know, now you do.
While there I attended my dear friend Otto Beck’s 100th birthday (one of the primary reasons for the June timing), as well as my precious niece’s christening and 1st birthday, my dad’s 67th and my little sister’s 32nd (the main reason for my trip, of course!).
Bronwyn, my best friend since childhood, drove down from Botswana to see me, too; we’ll be apart for our 40th birthdays, alas, but have committed to being together for at least one of our 50th b’days in 2020/21. It’s a relief to pick up precisely where we last left off each time we see each other. I vividly recall standing in her mother’s kitchen in Faerie Glen, regaling Mientjie Hill with reminiscences from primary school; our giddy laughter rings in my ears as I type this line.
Late in May I flew into Cape Town, spent a sanity-saving week there with my favourite aunt, cousins and close friends, and then flew to hectic Johannesburg, where my sister picked me up from the airport and took me straight to the hairdresser (apparently I looked a mess!) where Neil cut my hair rather short. See Mari’s photos (find me on facebookphillips@gmail.com).
After a few days in Jhb the family drove to Kruger Park (directly from dear Otto’s party) and spent a memorable time there; we saw four of the Big Five (and most of the so-called Ugly Five) on the first day! Then I visited my parents up north in tranquil Naboomspruit accompanied by my niece and nephew, before driving back to Jhb and then flying on to East London to see my other mom, sister-in-law and niece (whose sweet poem forms this lengthy letter’s postscript, shared without permission.) Thanks, Ashleigh!
The spirit of soccer mania affecting the whole continent—and further afield—got under my skin, too (and into my orange hair), as you’ll see from our colourful Facebook photos. Along with my sister, I am wholeheartedly supporting the Netherlands team. “Nederland, Nederland, Nederland!”
I was also privileged to attend not one but two major family gatherings: my dad’s cousins (the Whiteford clan) and my mom’s cousins (the Joubert descendants of my ouma’s numerous siblings) got together to meet one another, get reacquainted and celebrate being part of the same family. Great fun and food a-plenty.
So many celebrations! Thank you, one and all, for the planning and preparation and general partying that went into these excellent events.
Late last night I arrived home after a very, very long flight—albeit minus my luggage. None of the Jhb/London luggage made it to Calgary; nobody is sure where it is right now. A few World Cup fans flew together and we all arrived sans suitcases. :-(
Sadly, there have been incidents of theft during the soccer festivities, and the reality is that I may not see my precious possessions ever again. Oh well, it’s just “stuff”—although some of it was rather valuable, including two original paintings (of a donkey cart and seascape) done by a relative and graciously given to me during my visit to East London last week.
I plan on lying low this whole week, in order to fully recover from jet lag as well as my recent bout with bronchial pneumonia and a rather nasty ear infection which made flying less fun than it usually is. (This is also the excuse I’m using for not phoning many of my friends and former colleagues while in SA; I lost some hearing in one ear—a condition further exacerbated by the cacophony of vuvuzela concertos at the soccer games I attended!)
I was truly exhausted last night (and 110% peopled out), but after a delicious meal at Smitty’s with my spouse and an hour or two alone in my wildflow’r garden, I am feeling much better today! (And returning home to my herd of Glenbrook Pond hippos is always a highlight.) Today I made the decision to continue my techno-free tradition one day a week (don’t watch this space). I only realise how much I value my life-giving solitude when I’m not alone for long periods of time.
At this point, suffice it to say that the trip was most definitely worth all the usual sibling stress—mainly between my sister and me; we truly love and appreciate each other, despite our inability to live together in uninterrupted harmony—and the many difficult goodbyes. Each time I return to sunny SA I know it may be the last time I see certain folk: a sad reality. But the memory of being together, even for so brief a time, brings me joy for months after each trip.
I’ll write about the countless highlights (and maybe even share a few low points) in the coming weeks.
Please accept my sincere apology if we didn’t connect while I was at a venue near you. Family was a priority this trip, and my unexpected illness further shortened my time with loved ones. Know that you are all thought of with great fondness!
To the small handful of friends and numerous relations I did manage to see, thank you for making my time abroad so memorable. I love you and miss you already. See you next time! Please keep in touch to lessen the distance between us.
To Readers across the Pond and around the corner, do drop me a line and let me know how and where you are this summer/winter. Thanks in advance for the reply you’re about to send.
Love,
Elaine
—exhilarated to be back in my own home&garden/bed/WC/kitchen/study
As many of you know, I flew to South Africa in May for six weeks. If you didn’t know, now you do.
While there I attended my dear friend Otto Beck’s 100th birthday (one of the primary reasons for the June timing), as well as my precious niece’s christening and 1st birthday, my dad’s 67th and my little sister’s 32nd (the main reason for my trip, of course!).
Bronwyn, my best friend since childhood, drove down from Botswana to see me, too; we’ll be apart for our 40th birthdays, alas, but have committed to being together for at least one of our 50th b’days in 2020/21. It’s a relief to pick up precisely where we last left off each time we see each other. I vividly recall standing in her mother’s kitchen in Faerie Glen, regaling Mientjie Hill with reminiscences from primary school; our giddy laughter rings in my ears as I type this line.
Late in May I flew into Cape Town, spent a sanity-saving week there with my favourite aunt, cousins and close friends, and then flew to hectic Johannesburg, where my sister picked me up from the airport and took me straight to the hairdresser (apparently I looked a mess!) where Neil cut my hair rather short. See Mari’s photos (find me on facebookphillips@gmail.com).
After a few days in Jhb the family drove to Kruger Park (directly from dear Otto’s party) and spent a memorable time there; we saw four of the Big Five (and most of the so-called Ugly Five) on the first day! Then I visited my parents up north in tranquil Naboomspruit accompanied by my niece and nephew, before driving back to Jhb and then flying on to East London to see my other mom, sister-in-law and niece (whose sweet poem forms this lengthy letter’s postscript, shared without permission.) Thanks, Ashleigh!
The spirit of soccer mania affecting the whole continent—and further afield—got under my skin, too (and into my orange hair), as you’ll see from our colourful Facebook photos. Along with my sister, I am wholeheartedly supporting the Netherlands team. “Nederland, Nederland, Nederland!”
I was also privileged to attend not one but two major family gatherings: my dad’s cousins (the Whiteford clan) and my mom’s cousins (the Joubert descendants of my ouma’s numerous siblings) got together to meet one another, get reacquainted and celebrate being part of the same family. Great fun and food a-plenty.
So many celebrations! Thank you, one and all, for the planning and preparation and general partying that went into these excellent events.
Late last night I arrived home after a very, very long flight—albeit minus my luggage. None of the Jhb/London luggage made it to Calgary; nobody is sure where it is right now. A few World Cup fans flew together and we all arrived sans suitcases. :-(
Sadly, there have been incidents of theft during the soccer festivities, and the reality is that I may not see my precious possessions ever again. Oh well, it’s just “stuff”—although some of it was rather valuable, including two original paintings (of a donkey cart and seascape) done by a relative and graciously given to me during my visit to East London last week.
I plan on lying low this whole week, in order to fully recover from jet lag as well as my recent bout with bronchial pneumonia and a rather nasty ear infection which made flying less fun than it usually is. (This is also the excuse I’m using for not phoning many of my friends and former colleagues while in SA; I lost some hearing in one ear—a condition further exacerbated by the cacophony of vuvuzela concertos at the soccer games I attended!)
I was truly exhausted last night (and 110% peopled out), but after a delicious meal at Smitty’s with my spouse and an hour or two alone in my wildflow’r garden, I am feeling much better today! (And returning home to my herd of Glenbrook Pond hippos is always a highlight.) Today I made the decision to continue my techno-free tradition one day a week (don’t watch this space). I only realise how much I value my life-giving solitude when I’m not alone for long periods of time.
At this point, suffice it to say that the trip was most definitely worth all the usual sibling stress—mainly between my sister and me; we truly love and appreciate each other, despite our inability to live together in uninterrupted harmony—and the many difficult goodbyes. Each time I return to sunny SA I know it may be the last time I see certain folk: a sad reality. But the memory of being together, even for so brief a time, brings me joy for months after each trip.
I’ll write about the countless highlights (and maybe even share a few low points) in the coming weeks.
Please accept my sincere apology if we didn’t connect while I was at a venue near you. Family was a priority this trip, and my unexpected illness further shortened my time with loved ones. Know that you are all thought of with great fondness!
To the small handful of friends and numerous relations I did manage to see, thank you for making my time abroad so memorable. I love you and miss you already. See you next time! Please keep in touch to lessen the distance between us.
To Readers across the Pond and around the corner, do drop me a line and let me know how and where you are this summer/winter. Thanks in advance for the reply you’re about to send.
Love,
Elaine
—exhilarated to be back in my own home&garden/bed/WC/kitchen/study
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