Tag: writing

Naartjies

I am sentimental, I know… but I can’t call them mandarins.

It’s like barbeque is not the right word and I think that those who say it are ‘n bietjie skeef!

For some reason, I have always felt that naartjies are quintessentially South African. I am quite happy for non-Africans to call a similar fruit mandarins … they aren’t really naartjies.

The thing about naartjies is they are so easy to peel and the peels are so bright and pretty they don’t really matter when discarded on the roadside.

They are lekker sweet and it’s easy to eat a whole bag without thinking.

The current Lions Tour prompts a memory from schooldays. Our Rugby coach and Geography teacher was an Irishman, Rick Hamilton, from Ulster – a surprisingly nice man notwithstanding. In 1968 the Lions played Eastern Transvaal in Springs. It was a mid-week game and Rick organised for the school First Rugby XV to attend.

It was about a six hour trip each way, so we had to leave early in the morning. The main manne sat in the back row. It was possible to duck down there and have a smoke if the windows were kept open. The masters sitting up front pretended not to notice.

I remember some of the songs we sang: She’ll be coming round the mountain (clean version), I am a rock, America, Sounds of silence, (Simon and Garfunkel were big then) Blowing in the wind, Catch the wind …

We eventually arrived. Most of us were country boys so the big crowd and the grandstand were awe inspiring.

Standard rugby fare was biltong and naartjies. We had great admiration for some enterprising Springs High boys. They were slinging naartjies up over the back of the grandstand, dropping them on unsuspecting spectators from another school… Impressive!

Can’t remember the score but it was a wonderful experience, despite 12 hours in the bus. They had even kept some dinner for us back at school.

Eish Boet! It’s lekker to braai boerewors to go with mielie bread or mielie pap. Other than biltong and bakkie not many more words have followed us across the Indian Ocean. But there are a lot of Saffas in Australia! Last time the Springboks played in Brisbane there were twice as many more green jerseys than yellow ones.

Mind you, amongst fellow Africans there is a lot of kak praat and no-one gets gatvol.

Isn’t it astounding that South Africa produces so many world sports champions!

I believe Rassie has worked miracles in giving South Africans a common pride in their country. At last week’s rugby test against Italy in Cape Town, white supporters were a minority. I have never seen that before!

I reckon it’s something to do with a steady diet of biltong, boerewors and koeksisters!

Am I laughing or crying?

Of course it can be both … and more: you can wet yourself laughing … or even die!

Laughter can be messy, but generally it does one good. Some times, heh! heh! (accompanied by hands rubbing together), it can mean an evil plan has come together.

Often laughter follows witnessing the misfortune of others, which is not really nice, but usually occurs involuntarily and thus often hinders the immediate tendering of assistance. Not that assistance from a tear stained, snorting friend would be welcome or in fact practical!

Laughter has been described as “a physical urge tied to a psychological need for release … each human being is caught in a tug-of-war: part of us strains to live free as individuals, guided by bodily appetites and aggressive urges, while the other side yearns for conformity and acceptance. This results in every normal person being continually steeped in psychic tension, mostly due to guilt and lack of fulfillment.” *

Certainly laughter is a release and is almost always infectious, releasing smiles and grins in most passers-by. Laughter therapy is a real thing. Have you ever seen a sad hyena?

Recently I was sent a link to a grand website/ app (L’oeuil musical), which had clips of many songs dating back to the middle of last century. Hearing some of them brought tears of … joy? to my eyes. (I am, however, prone to blubbing).

My question is: why do I not laugh instead of cry? Although crying is of course not synonymous with sadness: happiness, pride, pain, smells, a punch on the nose can all elicit tears.

Did you know there are such people as professional mourners who are paid to attend funerals and look sad? I wonder if they get paid more if they can cry there as well?

We all know about clowns and comedians who are professionals who make a living out of your laughter.

One of the most famous comedians, Jerry Seinfeld has recently fallen foul of the woke mob, essentially because he’s a Jew, who stands by Israel – let us hope that they are not bent on killing humour. Maybe there’ll soon be song like American Pie, about the day the laughter died?

I think laughing and crying are both good and if you stifle your laughter or deny your tears, you will crumble.

Next time you walk down the street, laugh out loud and smile; you will leave a trail of happiness.

Next time you feel sad, cry, baby, cry.

Let it all hang out, there is no shame in crying – only in not crying.

*The Legacy of the Wisecrack: Stand-up Comedy as the Great Literary Form by Eddie Tafoya