Tania.co.za

National Consumer Database

This Web site is frequently visited by people seeking information about the National Consumer Database. I am sorry I have not had the time to update it with the latest details. You may want to contact Effective Intelligence (tel. 021 670 7720) to find out more about how to get de-listed. I will post links later.

Held

My liefling, my skat, my liefdesowyd, niemand besef met watter groot stryd jou elkedag elkenag deurgebalanseer word nie. Om jou voer elkeen sy eie piepklein oorloggie en dink dis erg genoeg om oor te vloek en te suip en deure te klap. Maar jy dra sonder die luukse van sulke verval, sonder erkenning van kerk of krygorde, die verandwoordelikheid vir 'n mikrokosmos van honderde wat jou nie ken of liefhet nie, en ook nie sou liefhe as julle jou geken het nie; en die van jou naaste, jou laaste wat jou ook nie ken nie en nooit geken het nie, en dalk nooit sal liefhe nie. Jy doen altyd jou beste, is altyd die beste; en waar niemand vandag meer 'n held is nie, in 'n wereld van slegheid en goedgenoegheid, is jou beste die beste beste: Jy is my held, my held, my held.

Speed reading course in Cape Town: 10 to 13 March

I started learning to read before I was 2, and was writing stories by the age of 5, but I never learned to read very fast. When was at university, I always finished a book way after the lecturer had already gone on to the next one. Now I need to read a fat books to stay abreast of things in my field, but I am struggling. I mentioned to Max Kaizen that I was looking for a speed reading course and she suggested that I contact the people from Evelyn Wood, because she had a good experience with their training.

I need to get together a group of 6 to 15 people so that these people will run an ExecuRead course for us in Cape Town. They said if I can organise this, they will give everyone a 10% discount off their usual corporate rates, which means that each person would pay R2245.50 including VAT. If we can make those numbers, the dates of the course will be 10 to 13 March 2008, in the evenings from 18:00 to 21:00. The venue is still being finalised, but it will probably be at Autumn Leaf's training centre in Bellville.

If you think you may possibly be interested, please let me know by contacting me on Facebook or by sending me a message here. I have some more details about the course which I can send you when I get back from Johannesburg next week.

The work which was planned...

There's a saying in Project Management that goes something like this:

During the past few months, I have developed the following corollaries:

Eendag

Eendag in die middel van 'n bedrywige winterkwartaal wanneer mense toustaan by die wasmasjiene, sal ek my woonstel aan die kant maak ter ere van jou, en blomme rangskik, en die bottel wyn waarvan niemand weet nie, oopmaak, en slaai met neute en AB se Black Gold en pangebraaide hoender voorberei, en kaalvoet afkom met die trap om jou persoonlik by Portaal C se ingang te kom haal.

As die Here wil.

Eendag tydens 'n netwerkbyeenkoms wanneer die helfte van die deelnemers via 'n wireless connection Twitter en blog, sal ek my Relationship Status op Facebook verander, en jou naam daar aanbring.

As die Here wil.

Eendag op 'n besige Saterdagaand tydens die Woordfees terwyl mense sukkel om by ons verby te stap, sal ek jou lank en innig op die trappe van Bohemia soen.

As die Here wil.

Eendag wanneer niemand anders daar is nie, net jy, sal ek my slaapkamerdeur oopmaak.

As die Here wil.

This Sunday: Liszt's Via Crucis & Bach Passion Chorales

Tygerberg City Choir conducted by Rudolf de Beer (one of South Africa's finest choral conductors -- and South Africa boasts some of the world's best)
Also with baritone soloist, organ, cello and narrator.
Sunday 20 May at 16:00
Endler Hall (Victoria Street, Stellenbosch)

You can get tickets at the door, or phone 072 382-9525 to book (when I checked last night, about half the seats had already been booked).

To the best of our knowledge, Liszt's Via Crucis has never been performed in South Africa before. It is not a very "ordinary" piece of music. (If I can think of something I can compare it to before Sunday, I will update this posting.) It is about Jesus making his way to the cross.

The Bach chorales are better known, and are interspersed with the longer Liszt work. (Mixing compositions was a more familiar practice in live performances in previous centuries than it is today for this type of music.)

The choir is pretty big (too big to fit onto the choir stands in the Endler along with the soloists), so we are spread into a more suitable alternative formation for this performance. Many of the choir members have been members for decades and have toured Europe. I'm a soprano, and this is only my second year with this choir (been in other choirs before). I have always had quite a good range, but at the moment it is "moving south" (losing some high notes and gaining some low notes), so I am going to request to sing tenor if I stay for the next season.

Hoekom ek ge-strip het

Ek wou hê jy moes my verstaan,
maar my hart en gedagtes was geklee
in woorde van die verkeerde snit en kleur en grootte.

Ek wou die woorde uittrek
sodat jy my hart en gedagtes kon sien,
kaal en eerlik en waar.

Maar ek pluk toe die verkeerde klere af
en daar staan ek met my kaal lyf voor jou.

Toe verstaan jy my selfs nog minder.

Logo idea

CD swapping party

To those who reckon I would regard them as friends and those who think that I would like them if I knew them...

On Saturday 3 February starting at 19:00 I am going to have a CD swapping party.

The idea is this: You bring along at least one CD that you don't really want anymore, and then you check out if anyone at the party has anything you prefer, and you swap.

If everyone likes your CD, you let them fight amongst each another or let them suck up to you and offer you money or favours, and then you decide who gets it. If no-one wants your CD, or if everyone else's CDs are even worse than yours, you drown your sorrows in whatever you have brought along for that purpose, while you top yourself up with food that I will provide, and you eventually go home again with your undersirable offering. I do have a CD player, so people can listen to the CDs before they decide.

Please do not feel restricted by genre. Audiobooks are welcome too. I have at least ten CDs of my own to offer. They are mostly the works of composers such as Milhaud, Stravinsky, Prokoffiev and Poulenc, who did in fact also write some decent music in their lives; but I somehow got landed with the most stressful of their compositions when my father cleared out his CD shelf. Several of these CDs are ballets, but I am afraid that I don't find them very listenable and would like to exchange them for something more to my own taste. I also have some dreary pop and some hyperactive Ibiza techno.

Let me know if you want to come, and keep watching this blog until the 3rd for confirmation of the guest list and for any changes in the arrangements. I can only accommodate 10 people. If you can accommodate more, let me know, so that we can have the party at your place instead.

My right to obey the law

To the driver of the Beyerskloof bakkie who tried to force me off the road, the driver of the car with the Western Cape registration number RADIO, and hundreds of other motorists who use the road from Stellenbosch to the Bottelary Road, and the Bottelary Road itself

Since you evidently do not recognise that you have a duty to obey the law, let me talk instead about rights. I have a right to travel within the speed limit. If the speed limit for a particular section of road is 100 km per hour and I am traveling at 100 km, I do not have to pull aside in order for you to overtake me, as doing so would mean that I would be facilitating your crime. Traveling at more than 100 km per hour in a 100 km zone is a crime.

Furthermore, the law permits me to pull over onto the road shoulder only if I deem it safe to do so, which I will occasionally do if the road is long and straight and if I see that I will be able to get back onto the road itself rather than being forced to drive on the shoulder by a long line of fast-moving traffic behind me. Also, if I were to drive on the road shoulder, and I if I were then involved in an accident, I would be held legally responsible. I therefore prefer to drive on the road itself. In fact, I believe that I actually have more of a right to drive on the road than you do, since I obey the law and you don't. And lastly, it is illegal to move over onto the road shoulder after sunset. So you cannot ever expect me to do so as a courtesy to you.

I will pull over wherever possible for emergency vehicles.

I agree with all of you that the part of the road from the Kuils River Golf Course to beyond the Soneike traffic lights and all the way up to the Stikland traffic lights doesn't really feel like a 70 km zone. But while it still is a 70 km zone, I will jolly well obey the law and drive at 70 km per hour there.

Those of you who like to overtake me on the double white line on that blind corner just beyond the golf course should perhaps note that in addition to numerous other accidents along that little stretch, there was an accident once that left a little boy orphaned: his mother, father and brother all died, and he alone was pulled out of the wreckage alive. (I passed the scene myself about an hour later.)

In exceptional circumstances I will pull aside if I think that the risk I am about to take could result in an accident less harmful to other road users than that which your stupid wrecklessness could cause if I don't move aside for you.

My personal wish for you is that as a result of your wreckless driving, you should totally write off your car somewhere nice and safe and in the presence of many witnesses, and climb out of the mangled remains totally unharmed and in great physical shape well suited to working to pay off that which your insurance refuses to cover. And that the witnesses all tell amusing stories about you to the Kaapse Son.

To all the road users who make mistakes and who have accidents in spite of doing their best to be good citizens

Amen. My sympathies and respect.

Onomastomania

Those who have known me for a long time know that amongst other things I am an onomastomaniac. The most interesting name that I came across in 2006 is that of a Namibian student who attended a course I presented at the University of Stellenbosch Graduate School of Business in December. His name is Kuyaraara Katjepunda. I think it would sound nice as part of the backing lyrics for a song.

Branding

Modern marketing experts will tell you that when it comes to branding, a logo is really not as big a thing as we used to think it was. They will cite as examples the cigarette companies who were forced to do away with logos in countries and media where anti-tobacco legislation is becoming stricter, and will tell you that many cigarette manufacturers have managed to remain strongly branded in spite of the absence of logos in ads.

Notwithstanding all of that wisdom, I just wanted to share the joy of a most striking logo which recently came to my attention, one which I think holds promise for good brand recognition once it gets onto site boards, offices and vehicles. One of Pavatile's customers, landscape architect René van der Westhuizen, recently launched a new company, Viridian Consulting. They refer to their professional playpen as the Green Industry and this is their logo. Come on, now don't you think it's nice?

Rooikoppie

Ek was vanoggend op soek na 'n rap-song wat ek onlangs geskryf het sodat ek hom vir iemand kon stuur wat daarvoor gevra het. Ek kon hom nie kry nie (hy is wel op die skootrekenaar, maar ek het nie nou die tyd om dit aan te skakel nie); maar ek kom toe op dié storie af wat ek so 'n paar jaar gelede geskryf het toe ek gereelde vryskutwerk gedoen het vir 'n opvoedkundige kindertydskrif.

Eendag was daar 'n dogtertjie, en haar naam was Rooikoppie. Sy en haar ma het in 'n huisie aan die Weskus gewoon. Rooikoppie se pa was glo 'n Skotse matroos, en 'n mens kon dit aan haar onkambare bos rooi hare sien.

Een mooi lenteoggend sê haar ma: "Rooikoppie, jou ouma is in die bed met masels. Ek het nog nie masels gehad nie, en ek sou dalk by haar kon aansteek. Maar jy het al masels gehad en ek wil hê jy moet hierdie fles boegoetee en die bakkie bredie na haar toe neem. Maar jy moet vanmiddag weer terugkom. Moenie met iemand op pad gesels nie, en moenie al weer blomme pluk nie, want dan kom ons in die moeilikheid by die Parkeraad."

Rooikoppie neem die mandjie by haar ma, en begin stap. Die Weskus se velde blom eenkeer per jaar soos 'n helder lappieskombers. Dis nie lank nie, of Rooikoppie vergeet wat haar ma gesê het, en sy begin die vygies en ander blommetjies pluk.

Skielik staan daar 'n groot luiperd voor haar.

"En waarnatoe is jy op pad?" vra die luiperd vir Rooikoppie.

"Na my ouma toe," antwoord Rooikoppie. "Sy woon anderkant daai bult."

"Neem jy die kortpad, en ek vat die langpad, en ons sal sien wie kom eerste daar," stel hy voor. Toe hardloop hy weg so vinnig as wat hy kan.

Toe Rooikoppie later by haar ouma se huisie instap, sien sy dadelik dat haar ouma iets ernstigs makeer. Die tannie sit kopdoek-en-al in die bed, maar daar is groot fout met haar lyf.

"Haai, Ouma," se Rooikoppie, "hoekom is Ouma so vol swart kolle?"

"Dis van die masels," kom die antwoord in 'n snaakse growwe stem.

"En Ouma, hoekom is ouma se vingers so vet en harerig?"

"Dis van die hormone," antwoord die harerige ouma.

"En Ouma," wil Rooikoppie verder weet, "hoekom brom Ouma so as Ouma praat?"

"Dis my maag wat grom, want ek is honger, en ek gaan jou nou opvreet!" brul sy, en met die spring sy uit die bed. Dadelik sien Rooikoppie dat dit glad nie haar ouma is nie, maar die luiperd wat sy vroer in die veld ontmoet het.

Intussen het 'n wildbewaarder vir Rooikoppie agtervolg, want hy wou vir haar waarsku om nie weer die veldblomme te pluk nie.

Toe hy by haar ouma se huisie aankom, hoor hy haar gegil en gaan dadelik binne. Hy rig sy geweer op die luiperd, maar die luiperd steek sy voorpote in die lug en skree: "Moenie skiet nie! Ek is 'n bedreigte wildsoort!"

Maar die bewaarder laat hom nie keer nie. Hy skiet die luiperd met 'n inspuitingpyltjie, en die luiperd raak dadelik aan die slaap. Toe laai hy hom in sy bakkie om hom na 'n veilige deel van die wildreservaat te neem.

En Rooikoppie se ouma? Sy het die hele tyd in die hangkas weggekruip, en al haar gestrykte klere opnuut gekreukel. Toe die rumoer verby is, klim sy uit die kas, en sy eet die bredie en drink die boegoetee wat Rooikoppie vir haar saamgebring het.

'n Paar dae daarna het die wildbewaarder ook masels gekry, maar Rooikoppie se ma het vir hom ook boegoetee en bredie gestuur, en hy was glad nie ontevrede nie.

Auf der Galerie

Wenn irgendeine hinfällige, lungensüchtige Kunstreiterin in der Manege auf schwankendem Pferd vor einem unermüdlichen Publikum vom peitschenschwingenden erbarmungslosen Chef monatelang ohne Unterbrechung im Kreise rundum getrieben würde, auf dem Pferde schwirrend, Küsse werfend, in der Taille sich wiegend, und wenn dieses Spiel unter dem nichtaussetzenden Brausen des Orchesters und der Ventilatoren in die immerfort weiter sich öffnende graue Zukunft sich fortsetzte, begleitet vom vergehenden und neu anschwellenden Beifallsklatschen der Hände, die eigentlich Dampfhämmer sind - vielleicht eilte dann ein junger Galeriebesucher die lange Treppe durch alle Ränge hinab, stürzte in die Manege, rief das - Halt! durch die Fanfaren des immer sich anpassenden Orchesters.

Da es aber nicht so ist; eine schöne Dame, weiß und rot, hereinfliegt, zwischen den Vorhängen, welche die stolzen Livrierten vor ihr öffnen; der Direktor, hingebungsvoll ihre Augen suchend, in Tierhaltung ihr entgegenatmet; vorsorglich sie auf den Apfelschimmel hebt, als wäre sie seine über alles geliebte Enkelin, die sich auf gefährliche Fahrt begibt; sich nicht entschließen kann, das Peitschenzeichen zu geben; schließlich in Selbstüberwindung es knallend gibt; neben dem Pferde mit offenem Munde einherläuft; die Sprünge der Reiterin scharfen Blickes verfolgt; ihre Kunstfertigkeit kaum begreifen kann; mit englischen Ausrufen zu warnen versucht; die reifenhaltenden Reitknechte wütend zu peinlichster Achtsamkeit ermahnt; vor dem großen Salto mortale das Orchester mit aufgehobenen Händen beschwört, es möge schweigen; schließlich die Kleine vom zitternden Pferde hebt, auf beide Backen küßt und keine Huldigung des Publikums für genügend erachtet; während sie selbst, von ihm gestützt, hoch auf den Fußspitzen, vom Staub umweht, mit ausgebreiteten Armen, zurückgelehntem Köpfchen ihr Glück mit dem ganzen Zirkus teilen will - da dies so ist, legt der Galeriebesucher das Gesicht auf die Brüstung und, im Schlußmarsch wie in einem schweren Traum versinkend, weint er, ohne es zu wissen.

Franz Kafka

(I suppose I should apologise for not posting a translation, but I can't. I have never found an English translation that does this story justice. If you ever suffer from clinical depression as a result of something bad that's happened in your life, do yourself a favour and learn German, so that you an read Up in the Gallery in its original form. It may just make you feel better.)