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Botswana. Where the Diamonds Aren't Bloody.
Posted on March 3, 2010 By mneset in AROUND THE WORLD
Where toothpicks grow
What did I tell you? Illinois?
The common denominator of the world–the mall!
No one even shot at me!
God's on the Bus. So close to Gaborone…so far from my travel goal of 192 (give or take) countries before I die. So what to do on a Saturday night but take the Intercape bus to Gaborone, Botswana and Immigration where the travel god will bless me with yet another passport stamp. And it did turn out to be something of a religious holiday. The bus rolls northwest out of Johannesburg through Illinois farm country—the corn is as high as … Right about here the on-board TV comes alive with what appears to be holy roller, fire and brimstone preachers straight from Elmer Gantry—except these have an Afrikaners accent. Through the farm country we go with pro-life ads, Christian pop and, through the small farm towns where only black South Africans seem to be fooling around and shopping and doing their Saturday night visiting. Starts getting dark as the umbrella thorn trees grow green and dense, earth reddens and fat brown and white cows and donkeys snack by the roadside against the sky-mountain purple dusk.
So still…where are endless roadside stands, knots of aimless men, women heading to somewhere with large baskets, kettles, bags perched elegantly on their heads. Where's the trash? The smell from the smoky fires and the roadside rubbish? This, my friends is another Africa—southern being very different than western/central Africa. THIS IS PEACEFUL ORDINARY EVERYDAY SOUTHERN AFRICA.
At the bus stop I catch a taxi to the Gaborone Sun. I did try…I did…to find a reasonable normal hotel or guesthouse on line but Gaboronians aren't big on response to such queries so when I finally decided to go I just booked what I could find easily and American Express-booked a resort gambling ex-pat-in-town-for-the-weekend-from-the-bush camp hotel. DO NOT DO THIS unless you're coming overland from the deadly jungles of the Congo or have just gone by camel from Cairo to Casablanca. If this is your kind of hotel you should have stayed at home in Amarillo. The hotel staff is very nice however and quite astounded to have a little old lady appear in jeans and a backpack. Tucking myself in for the night to CNN earthquake disaster coverage was already boring…only CNN can repeat so much minutia about every disaster detail of every catastrophic calamity so that even the words and photos of death and destruction of the worst kind have a lulling effect. But I do love you in a kind of obsessive way, CNN.
Sunday Morning in Gaborone. Early, I'm rested, up, showered, out to breakfast. Instead of describing the breakfast myself I'll let the author of my latest South African murder mystery do it for you. I was reading this while eating and I couldn't do better myself. "across the deep tan industrial carpet flecked with tiny fern-like organic motifs…into the international-cuisine pine-and-etched-glass emporium with its compound-noun multi-cultural opulence. Sliced melons, German Hams, sausage links, glass jars of muesli and bran flakes weighted down the oversized teak table-top…an endless supply of full, dark coffee….glasses of papaya juice. Globalization. The last time … the juice was called "paw-paw". Strange fruit." Author Jane Taylor's character goes on to describe the guests (except for me), "…Up-country South African parliamentarians, Nigerians, the deputy CEO from a Swiss blood bank attending a symposium on disease control, a French delegation from Rwanda, two Belgian forensic accountants investigating a tax fraud, and an American academic commissioned to write a hagiography of a South African left-liberal novelist. The American's notebook computer was open in front of him as he jotted down a description of the group mingling around him." (Of wild dogs: Jane Taylor, Double Storey Books, a division of Juta & Co. Ltd, Mercury Crescent, Wetton, Cape Town, 2005)
The idea I want to convey is that this crowd in some shape or the other is in every "resort" hotel in every developing country. I have always been so envious of the concept of ex-pat, knowing I'd make a more loyal American abroad than I can ever be at home; I've wanted to be one of them but I'm actually not so sure anymore. Whether cultural liaison or AIG rep or missionary or aid worker their lives seem to run parallel in every country. While my bus trip may not exactly introduce me to real life in this or any other country it is a tiny but bona fide experience!
Sunday morning then. After breakfast I try mightily to gather some ideas from various staff about what to do. "No, no," they say, "you must rest, you can do nothing, everything is closed, it is the day people go to church and rest, you must rest too." Now if I were economically-wise I would not be in Gaborone today…but even for me all of the dollars (rands, pula) I've spent on the bus and this hotel have to have been for something more than the passport stamp…don't they? I get a little map of sorts and head for the Parliament and government buildings and the Main Mall. As your trusty Lonely Planet will tell you Gaborone primarily consists of malls and fast food joints but they are closed too on Sundays it seems.
Out the door for what turns out to be a perfectly perfect 2 ½ hour morning jaunt in the warm overcast Botswanian morning. Church-goers walking the neatly swept streets to a scattering of imposing and simple structures among the thorn trees and thorn bushes here on the edge of the desert. I know there are other trees but so far Google hasn't yielded the information I need to name them. The people I can better describe. Race and tribe are obviously surer things here than in South Africa. The people are mostly Tswana, dark sculpted people of facial dignity and strength. They're dressed very like our parents and grandparents dressed for church. The women in conservative, crisply-ironed, dark or brightly-patterned dresses, the men in suits or white shirts and slacks. Children spit and polished. They walk at a comfortable pace, not fast, not slow, small groups, obviously even here most people are sleeping in on Sunday morning. It's a mile or two before I reach the government complex.
Government…as it should represent itself. Here a surprise. Pleasant buildings. well-maintained. Modest. MODEST. No armed secrurity—obvious at least. NO ARMED SECURITY. Am I in Africa? I'm certainly not in DC! Where's the opulent Presidential Palace where you will be shouted at if you take pictures? It is not like Botswana has nothing anyone else wants. It has DIAMONDS. The biggest building in the neighborhood is in fact Debswana, the conglomerate of De Beers and the government of Botswana, with the majority of profits reverting to the country and apparently not into the private bank accounts of the government leaders. Seretse Khama Ian Khama is the president, son of the first great leader of Botswana who married an Englishwoman and was exiled to Great Britain for some years. The son is said to be quiet, smart, modest, unmarried, a pilot, wildlife advocate and fitness fanatic. Sounds like Barack's single brother. Well, actually the Obama brother I've seen on TV appears to be rather crazy so I take that back. I am so impressed. I am sure this is government as it should exist. With apparently no one, local or international fundamentalist, gunning for the leader. I stroll from this quiet retreat in the heart of non-blood-diamond political power down the Main Mall, a collection of tacky storefronts offering loans, fried chicken, cheap clothing and videos. Only a couple of vendors are about so I purchase my Botswana souvenir, a brown and gold woven wall hanging for about $3.
Sunday Afternoon in Gaborone. I don't know this yet but the adventure part of this trip is over. I'm back by noon, greeted by awed desk staff who say "you WALKED, wow, you are strong for such an old person is the subtext of course but that's okay…if I'm going to get to every country in the world I need to be able to walk the streets when I'm there.
The Gaborone Sun. Gift shop. Decide not to buy the $300 ostrich feather scarf but do get one of South Africa's gossipy fat Sunday papers. It's not the Times…well actually it is the South African Times…less serious than our Times perhaps, but then a colleague arrived from the states yesterday with the NY Times for me and the Sunday Styles features an article on a new fad, bus-drinking…in comparison an article about Zuma's fourth wife's luxury home seems relatively weighty.
I read the paper. I nap.
I watch more earthquake loops (where is Anderson?).
I read my book I don't like so much.
I watch American Idol! I always learn new things about myself on travels. Now I know my tolerance for minutes of American Idol in my lifetime is 43.
I get an ice cream Sundae but since a waiter must bring it to my room it's melted by the time it gets there so I eat the bananas and lick the melted chocolate off my plate.
My walk inspired me so I decide to do some planks. My gym friends would be proud.
Planks are not mentally stimulating but between the earthquake the planks the bad book, yet one more article about sex in South Africa and a bath (I hate baths but thought I could try one in this decade to see if my mind had changed) the day passed.
I slept
I took the 6:30am bus to Johannesburg.
God of nomads, bless Gaborone and the Intercape bus company. No, god bless travel and passport stamps and new countries and curiosity. And thank you for Sunday in Gaborone oh mighty toothpick tree.
A note: I feel rather guilty about not exploring further somehow in this rather odd and elusive country. Two bits of information then: 1) Read Michael Stanley's murder mysteries starring Detective Kubu (A Carrion Death and A Deadly Trade). They are much better in my humble murder mystery-expert opinion than the Women's Detective Agency books. Not quite as simplistic. And then I found this poem on line at Off-the-Wall Poetry, a Western Cape web site. I share it to counteract any sense that Botswana is all mall and KFC.
BOTSWANA MEMORIES
By Sandy Wetton
I love the place names that roll round my mouth
like ripe marulas, indigenous and sweet.
From Molopo in the dry and dusty South,
sand river meander where the boarders meet,
fossil from a more alluvial time.
Not flowing, past Tsagong and desert dunes,
dotted with feral sage and wild thyme,
to Ramatlabama and the customs post.
Mabuasehube, romantic and remote,
abutting the Gemsbok Park, where it plays host
to herds of antilope, on grassy plain.
Or travel East, follow the line of rail,
take the overnight train, again and again
the station name music echoes the rhyme
of wheels on tracks.
Lobatse, Gaborone, Pilane
Lobatse, Gaborone, Pilane.
The clicks and the clacks
Palapye, Mahalapye, Serule
till dawn in Francistown.
At dusk in the dining car you clattered past,
too fast, to catch the comfortable compounds,
that are Mochudi's pride.
And while you slept, starch sheeted,
pillow puffed, Matlabanelo's
pot-shard scattered hillside,
silently slipped by.
In the wee hours, the Swapong range
was lost, with hidden relics from the Iron Age.
And sipping steaming morning coffee,
through the siding at Macloutsie
as you round the final bend to journeys end.
Then further East, the great Limpopo,
green and Kipling greasy, flows,
fever tree banked and humming with mosquitoes.
Or West crossing the Shashi at Matangwan,
chewing Mopane leaves to slake your thirst,
through ever dryer bush to the great salt pan.
Mgadigadi, jewel of the Kalagadi.
Jewels of sound and jewels of carbon
Jwaneng, Letlakeng, Orapa.
Diamonds in the desert.
Mkalamabedi fords the Botletle south of Maun,
where the river was born.
Daughter of the great Okavango,
mysterious delta of channels and Islands,
home to the shy sitatunga, the sly crocodile.
Marvelous maze of lost days
soaked in the sun and birdsong
of a makoro meander along
the Thamalakane and Boro
to the tiger fish bays
of Gomare, Namaseri, Shakawe.
A rattling ride over roads less traveled
to Kudumane, Katata and Kwaai,
where a twitch in the grass is a lion's tail
and the king is the Tsetse fly.
Savuti, Moreme, Linyanti
form this small monarch's domain,
this slayer of livestock and cattle
and patron of all wild game.
To the Chobe and Zambezi Rivers
where the hippo and elephant bathe
to far flung Pandamatenga,
and the rumoured elephant grave.
Past pans and pimples that pass for hills
in terrain as flat as a shambva
but as round in sound as Metsemetlaba,
Ramotswa, Notwane, Gaborone, Gabane
Hukuntsi, Mababe and Molepolole
Singing an anthem in my memory.
Geography is ALL
Posted on February 27, 2010 By mneset in AROUND THE WORLD
Personal lives, emotional lives, social lives, sex lives, economic lives…blah blah blah…what about our geographic lives?
Original "Nest"
Abandoned "Nest"
Nomad's Ashes–Insert Here
I grew up in the woods at the end of the gravel road (Minnesota, not Mississippi, otherwise Lucinda Williams Car Tires on a Gravel Road is my childhood memory too). The variety of green available in that world was pretty well covered by the balsam, cedar, spruce, balm of Gilead poplars (baummies to us), aspen/poplars, willows and more surrounding the tiny farmstead and stucco/log house; sometimes in late spring it was seeing all of the world through a kaleidoscope that only included shades of GREEN. And in spite of being rather poor how very secure it was. It was warm in the winter, full of friendly insect life in the summer, big yeasty loaves of white bread baking, maybe cinnamon rolls too, the kind with sour cream topping adding just a touch of tart to the warm sweetness of cinnamon and brown sugar, dogs barked, neighbors came for coffee, an environment that will always represent my version of the nest we probably all need.
This is to say I had a proper nest from which to approach the world. Somehow my apartment in Albuquerque, New Mexico manages to almost equal that early environment: Many trees because I'm near the Rio Grande, just minutes from the Bosque, now they're cottonwoods and there is never quite the sense of falling into vat of 'essence of green', still…, my apartment is small, full of the bright dark colors that everyone says makes rooms seem even smaller, which for me is a goal—just recreated home. So there are not a lot of baking smells, should get a bread machine I guess (sorry, mom) but coffee perking and Amy's Enchiladas cooking in the microwave supplies a bit of scent to the place. Besides when I walk by the river in the morning I can smell elephant dung and hear Africa Land awakening at the neighborhood zoo. That is why I do not need to go on safari when in Africa.
HOWEVER IN SPITE OF ALL OF THIS COZY-SOUNDING HOMESPUN RHETORIC, I AM ALWAYS MOVING ON–A NOMAD. Just need a nest to which to return.
Two Kinds of People
There really are only two kinds of people in the world (sometimes the lines blur or the multiple personalities overlap):
People who consider their nest as priority number one. I looked up nest in several on-line dictionaries and it is defined variously as "The place in which one's domestic affections are centered," "a cozy or secluded retreat [retreat=a place of privacy, a place affording peace and quiet]," "a place affording snug refuge or lodging—a home."
People who must wander, who always want to see what is over the next hill or around the next bend. Here my thesaurus gives me nomad, vagrant, itinerant, traveler, rover, rambler, drifter, rolling stone.
We have, then, the nesters and the nomads. Although again we must agree that nesters sometimes want adventure, to see the world's sights and experience the world's wonders—but it is probably not their priority. And nomads want to have a nest to which to return for connections, financial regrouping—as in work, the sheer familiarity of one's own bed and shower.
In my own family there are examples of people confused about the category into which they fit. Robert and Marsha, you know who you are! Looking for the perfect place. Buying houses in Minnesota, Alaska, Florida, trying to love New Mexico where there's family, maybe loving Louisiana or Alabama or Georgia…but not quite. Not moving beyond U.S. borders much because there is the DOG. But always always looking for the perfect nest while struggling with their evil nomadic twins
Here's one way to know you're a nomad. Two nights ago I was trying to shower, doubled over from the pain of an RA flare-up, vomiting up the sole thing I'd eaten in 24 hours. I was in Windhoek, Namibia—a very long way from home. Supposed to take buses over a couple of days to Johannesburg. Pain won the battle, besides which I could not walk, and I spent an extra day feeling lost and sorry for myself in a very foreign city. Early flight yesterday to Jo'burg, to doctor, massive dose of prednisone, night's sleep and today I've planned and finished booking my bus trip and hotel in Gaborone, Botswana tomorrow!
We all envy each other. The nesters and the nomads. I wonder if it's nature versus nurture. My family history includes apocryphal stories of gypsies and reindeer herders which generally I choose to believe, not based on fact but if we nomads only relied on fact where would we be—home saving money. And my dad came over from Norway on a ship. So there's nature for you. I was nurtured in that snug nest ringed by trees so tightly you couldn't see the storm until it was over your house. I knew I had to move on from a very early age—since my tiny self could turn the pages of mom's old grade school geography book with the maps everywhere and big hand-colored photos of Rio and Yellowstone Park. Guess nature wins. Although I discovered after many years that my wayfarer father who had an itinerant fiddler for a great-grandfather really hated to leave his northwoods and my mother, who grew up in the relatively stable environment of the Dakota River Valley, was a closet nomad. I should have known since she remembered every single detail of every scrap of geography and history she ever had in school.
Okay…well I will think of this some more as I head up the road to GABORONE. Yes. With one small backpack. What a luxury for a nomad; usually you must take more than clean underwear a couple of books toothbrush billfold lipstick! Jackets tied to backpack in case the bus is cold. OFF TO ANOTHER PASSPORT STAMP.
Africa Lite
One of my travel goals–since elementary school geography
Cape Town game park!
A room at Vicky's
Township bed and breakfast–a unique site and warm and sweet place to stay
Township–traditional healer
Township–former men's dormitories under renovation
Langa Township–We stop for a drink at the neighborhood shebeen
Township–"Informal" sector
Township tour begins–didn't see the body!
Cuban wine bar on FAMOUS Long Street
Road sign from the road
Table Mountain from Robben Island
Tudor Hotel–thank you Lonely Planet
Welcome to Cape Town
Cape Town is disdainfully dubbed Africa Lite, intended to separate its European ambience from the real Africa of out-of-control cities such as Dakar or destroyed cities like Kinshasa. It is true; Cape Town is surely one of the most delightful cities in the world but the fact that it shares a continent with Mogadishu does not make it less authentically African…does it? Cape Town proper is in the process of getting its best foot beautifully shod and putting it way forward in June for the World Cup. You cannot not sense what this means to all of Africa—a place on the world stage of important game-worthy, tourist-worthy continents. And South Africa, former pariah of the sports world—hosting the cup. Makes Africa-aficionado hearts beat just a little faster whether you care about soccer or not!
I try to figure out my fascination with this country—where I am about to spend over a month, a few days of that traveling by bus just to feel what the non-urban South Africa is like. Of course I am drawn to every corner of this continent with some old-fashioned desire to explore or maybe explore-lite is a more apt term since I'm not exactly sleeping in the bush. But South Africa is unique; it is the country in the world with which we share the most history. We (the US and South Africa) are so alike, almost mirror images of each other in some ways with the colors reversed like one of those old negatives. It's true that the black minority has never dominated in politics or finance in the US while the white minority in South Africa did for a very long time. But the history of apartheid is similar in both of our countries and white power has never been anything except harsh in either. Now it's a new day…and we look at what might be. It feels like both countries could get it right with Barack Obama in our present and Nelson Mandela in South Africa's past and, hopefully, Joseph Zuma up to the task of South Africa's future.
I left the US, happy to be gone from endless news of the American fundamentalist forays onto the political battlefield from every ditch and cave. I come here to a society in big economic trouble with a president who is on the verge of becoming a stereotype for bad boy behavior but nevertheless a country that in many ways feels more eager and open than us to discussing the BIG issue which is how to move past race and get on with the work of the nation. Americans said on election night November 2008 we had done that. Wrong. Nelson Mandela hoped it would happen here when apartheid ended. Wrong. Still, considering the relative newness of both countries attempts at color-blind societies, it is amazing that the US has a black president and that South Africa, a country whose leaders once considered Adolph Hitler their political guru, is witnessing a multi-racial society pretty close to working pretty well.
My airline seatmate on the flight from Dakar, a pleasant and successful young white South African who markets expensive liquors and other high-end products in West Africa—what could the Congo possibly need more than high-class gin and vodka—says of course apartheid was terrible but, he also says, instead of simply replacing whites with blacks in as many positions as possible couldn't there have been some thought given to training and education first. Of course he's right in a way, but how does any new leader say to a people who have been hugely repressed and discriminated against for their entire lives that now you must somehow spend the next many years getting educated (as though the facilities existed to do that) before you can have a position that pays you a living wage. Impossible. So the alternative is sometimes putting people in jobs they're not qualified for but will grow into, and watching the country slip a notch or two on the efficiency ladder. It can right itself, and in fact is, with the government hopefully sincere about paying extra attention to education. While the problem is bigger in South Africa, the US has a ways to go before we reach an educational high ground that includes every kid of every race and ethnicity. More similarities.
My taxi driver from the airport, a black South African, said "Yes, the President is doing some good maybe, but he's a joke with all those kids and wives and girlfriends." (President Zuma just took a new wife, his third, and the news just broke that he has fathered a new baby with the daughter of one of his government officials. "And" says the driver, "Now the blacks are treating the whites just like the whites did the blacks before." He doesn't seem to think that 'turnabout being fair play' is going to get the country anywhere. But did I know that Thursday was the 20th anniversary of the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison? "We've come a long way," he says.
I was in Cape Town for more than a week and it is a lovely low-key city. Beautiful old buildings, Table Mountain looming above, the Atlantic right at the city's edge, full of restaurants and stores and prosperous looking people of all hues. I have been describing it as San Diego with character. But San Diego doesn't have townships? And on the edge of Cape Town, everyone's-favorite-city, lies the Cape Flats…where the black, coloured and Asian populations were forcibly moved during apartheid, in fact moved into separate neighborhoods even in the Flats. Now downtown and the 'good' suburbs are increasingly home to coloureds and Asians but still not so many blacks. The mythical color-blind society is still a long ways in the future. But, admittedly knowing little of New Orleans, I understand that it is a city of neighborhoods approaching the intensity and color concentration of the townships of South Africa. Am I wrong?
It seems to me from my various conversations that one difference does stand out as the races reconsider who they are. In the US, people of mixed parentage typically identify with the race of color or the "minority" race that makes up some part of their heritage. Two of my grandchildren are half-Filipino and they very much identify as Asian. Barack Obama has described his path to becoming African/African-American. In South Africa, with apartheid's divide and conquer strategy always in play, the divisions between white, coloured, Asian and black were so clearly marked and so programmed into the minds of the population that the divisions still exist although one would never know it in downtown Cape Town. More complicated than simply being a 'person of color.'
The racial criss-crossings and animosities and attractions and the very way history records and defines the relationships creates something of a conundrum. If Cape Town doesn't feel very "African" because so much of its visible downtown population is white and whites are a tiny minority in SA, then does New Orleans not feel very "American" because much of its visible population is black and only a minority of Americans are black? We think of New Orleans as practically our favorite American city, don't we? Or another way of saying this. Why do African Americans seem completely American and white Africans not quite African? The latter is a topic of discussion and dissension all over Africa, apparently always has been. I'm sure there's an easy answer like—whites came willingly to Africa, Africans did not come willingly to North America. But I'm not sure it's that easy.
I mentioned to my Cape Town friend that actually in South Africa it did feel that whites were South African and I've never quite had that feeling elsewhere in Africa. Did that make sense I asked. She said, "Yes of course. Think of it this way, whatever good and bad was to follow when those early Dutchmen arrived they came to stay, not to colonize and return home. They started calling themselves Afrikaners early on whereas the French and the Brits never claimed Africa as their homeland."
The Township Tour!
I have always felt a little queasy about poverty tours from the old photos of Bobby Kennedy in Appalachian shacks to the favela tours of Rio and on down to me with some other Europeans taking a van into the Cape Flats. I have now been on two such tours in South Africa, a few years ago to Soweto and now to Langa, Khayelitsha and Crossroads. All in all, I guess if it is done respectfully and it brings business into the township and a bit of understanding of what real poverty looks like to a few more comfortable people, it's worthwhile?
It really becomes important to read a history of this country in conjunction with being here and before doing this. I had just picked up Dominique Lapierre's 2008 book, A Rainbow in the Night, and spent a mildly-sick day in bed reading it from cover to cover. It's as even-handed as one could possibly be when considering apartheid is at the heart of this country's history, and it was an update for me on details that had been forgotten or never known. For example the story of District 6 and the forced removals of its multi-cultural population into their own compounds/ghettos by race: black, coloured or Asian; then the area was razed so the sinful example of races living peacefully and equitably together could be erased from history. And Crossroads where the march against the bearing of passbooks originated, or Landa, the first township and the home of our guide.
The tour was well done. The guide was matter-of-fact and comfortable,taking the six visitors into all but the "informal" sectors where no services are provided among the shacks truly cobbled together from whatever scrap of material can be nailed to the next. Areas within townships are classified by degree of stability and, in a way, prosperity from the "informal" on up to areas where the shacks have gradually been replaced by tiny concrete structures then by larger concrete homes with several rooms, plumbing and small yards. The single men's dormitories that housed the thousands of men who came from all over South Africa and the rest of Africa to find work in the cities and who were absolutely restricted to hideous overcrowding with no facilities to maintain any measure of privacy, cleanliness, humanity still exist. Woman and children came to join their men, initially living in the same conditions. Now, very gradually, these structures are being turned into apartment blocks; at the low-end a family of six or so sharing a room with bunk beds climbing the walls, shared cooking facilities, pumps in the yard, miserable outdoor toilets. At the high end and the eventual goal, they become two or three room apartments with proper plumbing, etc. It's also true that modern life goes on, hard to maintain but TVs are on with teenagers doing homework while their cell phones charge; the mamas are cooking and shooing the babies about and the men are at work.
We stopped at a dirt-floor dark and claustrophobic Shebeen, shared a pail of traditional beer, all yeasty like bread dough in the process of rising; at a traditional healer's, nasty skins and tiny heads all about; and visited a bed and breakfast where I will certainly stay for a day or two when I return to Cape Town. It's in an area of Khayelitsha where the structures have all become concrete houses and the dirt streets are trash-free but it's still smack in the middle of the Township. It is a lovely B and B really, airy bedrooms, neatly made beds with their traditional quilts; you can tell the house is pieced together over time but all the more character because of it. I'll publish the name of it when I return home.
Art and Stories
This meandering travel commentary needs lots of editing but I must get it on the blog before it keeps me in blog block any longer. Just to finish with a note. The stories one hears from friends, artists, taxi drivers, hotel staff are endless. Like the US, South Africa subjugated more than one race, treated them brutally and will be dealing with the results for decades to come. The complicated consequences are being explored by everyone and—whether the story is of Native Americans and African Americans raising their voices through theater or the young African choreographer I met yesterday talking about the role the history of this country (Namibia, where I am now, was part of South Africa) plays in his work—it is a rich field of inquiry destined for many art, social and political investigations in the decades to come.
Dining on Happy Exotic Animals
They ran and they played…and then I ate them.
Since I only eat free-range meat or none at all and think hunting is not a real sport but rather some kind of bizarre male bonding ritual leftover from the 'hunter-gatherer' era and since I believe in conservation of natural wild things…tonight's dinner was solely done to prove to my San Diego son that I'm not an exotic-food wimp. I did not break all of my rules; I am quite sure the springbok, kudu and impala I ate for dinner were wild and happy until slaughtered by some great white hunter type who took the heads home to White Bear Lake or Syracuse, and they're not very endangered…are they? And ostriches are living everywhere. This one probably got loose from the local ostrich farm and was hit by an out-of-control truck between here and Stellenbosch.
Here's how it all happened. I was wandering around my lovely Green Market Square neighborhood after a site-based performance work that started oddly but ended normally with Jesus (I think) dragging a big broken metal table over the cobblestones and out of sight, his feet all bloody and robe torn and a haunting African melody to cheer him on his way. There's a sweet restaurant called Da Capo next to my hotel so I decided a meal would be a good thing since I've only eaten exotic pancakes since I've been here. Through a long and convoluted discussion with my waiter I wound up ordering the following plate under their tapas menu:
Ostrich filled with fresh spinach and secret sauce;
Springbok filled with artichoke, tuna and tapanada;
Kudu filled with exotic wild mushrooms and
Impala filled with creamy chili and tuna puree.
I copied that directly from the menu as I said a silent forgiveness prayer to the pagan Norwegian god of turnips and rutabagas.
PROUD OF ME, SCOTT?
And here's the critique. Kudu is REALLY good. It's very light somehow. Like the best steak imaginable—the melting in your mouth kind. Absolutely elegant. And I never have to eat it again. Like going to Luxembourg; it's done and you don't have to go back even if it was a pleasant experience. Springbok tastes like a nice light pork with a slightly liver-like texture and Impala tastes like a wild animal. I know I must have eaten venison growing up in Minnesota, and once I tasted bear meat. Impala tasted like I imagine that tasted. About ostrich. I could not do that. I don't know why. Maybe it's because the Swiss Family Robinson kids rode around on them so I associate them with horses. Or because they are so truly ugly. Or because they are being farmed, penned up, not wild and free like I like to imagine my meat having been just prior to my chewing it up.
Now I am having instant cappuccino and dried out ginger cookies for dessert as I write this. Already too much adventure for one day.
Valentines Day on Robben Island
Robben rocks
Welcomes should never be taken at face value!
The late summer sun beats down on this denuded island of scrub brush and the odd patch of faded weed and dry grass, but the ever-present Cape wind cools its glare. We're tourists come over from Cape Town on the Robben Island ferry. "Anyone here want to get married today?" Thabo, our guide for the first part of our trip asks. Funny question I think. But after all it is February 14th and there are 29 couples marrying today on what seems an odd choice of sites. Thabo offers his crowd-pleasing explanation, "They say marriage is a life sentence so where is a more appropriate place to begin serving your time!"
Marriage as a "life sentence!"
Thabo asks us from where we hail and the answers include Japan, Gabon, Belgium, California, the Netherlands, Johannesburg, New Mexico, Botswana and, he laughingly adds, "and my township, this mama in the front row knows me, I better speak well…" The tour bus drives slowly about the Island stopping often for the young man's stories of life at Robben Island. His soft and easy South African-accented English is almost mesmerizing as he tells the tales of an island used through time as a place for isolating the region's troublemakers. "I know you are anxious to see where Nelson Mandela lived but he would be the first to remind us that everyone coming through here during apartheid played a part in the struggle."
After an hour or so with Thabo he bids us good-bye and we are turned over to a stocky smiling man in his fifties, an ex-prisoner, who will take us through the prison compound. Here the story becomes more personal and both more and less horrific than we imagine it to be. John was here for over six years. He lived in the open barracks, a long room heavily barred but for most of his years without window panes to keep the cold and stormy ways of the Cape at bay; they had only mats on which to sleep at first although eventually bunk beds were installed. There were three meals a day but even then the cruel pettiness ever-present in the "divide and conquer" schemes of the apartheid government came into play. A menu board lists the daily rations for "Coloureds/Asiatics" and for "Bantus" who simply received less of everything, including "No jam/syrup" while the lighter-skinned "coloureds" got treated to a daily "1 oz." of the treasured sweets.
In response to a question about daily life though, John says "I'd be lying to you if I told you every day was bad. It wasn't. We made a life under the conditions that existed and it had its joys. We worked five days a week, mostly out in the quarries, and we played soccer and tennis on Saturdays. We could socialize, each within our building mostly, but the best thing was our education programs for the kids who wound up prisoners. They had their first real schooling by all the professors and doctors and lawyers sentenced here…remember for most of the apartheid years Robben Island was only for political prisoners and many were professional men."
Mandela's cell
We finally get to Mandela's cell, the climax of our trip. The 8 by 8 cell holds only the bucket which for many years served as the prisoners' only container for, in turn, drinking water, bathing and waste; a small stool and a mat and blanket. The leaders of the movement had their own cells, sparse though they were, and usually the ability to communicate freely inside and outside where they grew their gardens of flowers and vegetables, both to make time pass and try to maintain some vestiges of normalcy.
This sunny Valentine's Day in 2010, it is hard to get my mind around the impact of this place on the men who lived here and the society that put them here. Robben Island wasn't a place of physical torture or outright murder for the most part—that was done elsewhere. This non-descript island with its fairytale view of Cape Town and Table Mountain just a brief span of blue sea away, was a place to play the mental games necessary to break spirits not bodies. What a testimony South Africa today is to apartheid's inability to conquer those spirits.
John shared a closing thought that would make a striking Valentine's card image. "You know the prisoners could have visitors, their wives and children over the age of 16, but no one younger could come to the Island. Well, one summer the guards who lived here got to bring their small children to their compound which was at the other end. It seems that by mistake, their babysitters brought them over to the guards' golf course near the quarry to play. There were many prisoners working in the quarry that day, digging, pounding, crushing the hard rock, when the sound of children's laughter came to them. All of them stopped dead still and just stood in silence, almost at attention, with tears making tiny rivers down their dusty faces as their thoughts went to their own children and life as it was supposed to be lived."
But it's 2010 and there is a Robben Island souvenir shop, and a summer swimming competition is being organized to commemorate some event of Island history, and animal rights activists are up in arms over a government scheme to shoot all the Robben Island bunnies because they are consuming every shred of plant life on the island. So life moves on.
The view of apartheid
I have a butternut squash pancake and nice South African wine back on the mainland and think about the reality that never quite lives up to the hope and inspiration of big movements but how inspiring it all is anyway. And I think how one of the few places I ever feel lonely when traveling alone is when I'm participating in a group tour. Can one be 'a wallflower at the tour?'
Time to leave
The basic vehicle of travel
It's that last 36 hours before the journey begins. When you wonder what in the world you are doing. Why does anyone leave the comfort of their own space to be humiliated by security, trek down endless halls to your next flight which is always at the other end of the terminal. Get the seat next to a person eating something full of garlic and onions. Wonder if the snow in DC will ever stop. Know you should read the instructions for your new camera. Pay the utility bills. Stop the papers. Throw out the last of the milk. AAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH! But tomorrow I'll be in love with whole idea again. My hotel in Cape Town is booked and apparently staffed by lovely people who send e-mails to assure me they'll pick me up at the airport where I'll arrive quite late at night. And to get to my hotel in Windhoek the next week I should tell the cab driver at the bus station to take me to the hotel across from the "fruit and veg" street. Okay…I'm already happy again.
9,351 miles to Albuquerque
Posted on January 29, 2010 By mneset in AROUND THE WORLD
There's always the next cup of coffee
This is WINDOW SEAT. Now, before this slightly misleadingly-named blog proceeds, I have a confession. After years and years of ALWAYS taking the window seat in whatever conveyance, I've now had a relatively short period of asking for the aisle. I used the excuse that I was getting older and wanted to access the bathroom more freely, stretch my legs to prevent deep vein thrombosis and most of the time it was either black night or a sunny blue-domed cloud-carpeted world outside the window anyway. Okay, I repent. I'm back to my window seat. It is actually worth the climb over a bulky sleeping seatmate to catch that first glimpse of the hills or valleys or streetscape of my next NEW place. Here's an itinerary that will be admired by some, but envied by few if the truth be told. Most people actually do not want to travel. Took me a long time to believe that about apparently rational people. Some of my best friends in fact. But travel as opposed to vacationing isn't for everyone. And I must admit to being rather a softy as travel goes…no Amazonian rapids or Himalayan peaks…just the next cup of coffee at a very distant counter. But that's okay. My itinerary feels a little daunting to me too. Roughly it's this. 7AM to DC, 5:40PM to Johannesburg, an 18 hour flight, gas up in Bamako or Dakar. Late that evening into Johannesburg. (All courtesy of frequent flyer miles—keep your mileage, every single mile and then if you actually wanted to go somewhere you could!) Couple hours flight to Cape Town and I'm home for a week. Although at this moment in time I don't have a hotel. Cape Town has HISTORY. The Afrikaner stronghold. The white town. The most beautiful city in the world. The racist heart of South Africa. Seems to be all of that. I hope to walk many streets and climb Table Mountain and find Deon Meyer, one of my favorite police/detective novelists and to think about what this city means in relation to Birmingham or New Orleans or Mobile or any one of the American cities where our own racial history is writ large. But in my everyday life for the week I'm focusing on dance and theater. What are artists in a city that is geographically at almost the bottom of the world—9351 miles from Albuquerque—thinking about right now? How to find that out in one week? BUT here is what endlessly fascinates me. How we each think we live at the center of the world. And then we fly for 24 hours or so and it's somebody else's center of the world. So then I'll have a cup of coffee and sleep and get up and walk around this center of the world.
Still Practicing
Okay, I vowed that I would blog every other day if I got into this. Now it's the third day and I must say something about travel…or dance. That is primarily what this blog is about. I've been writing grants all day (for dance) and now a wine and NCIS LA—which isn't nearly as good as the other NCIS. Although I'm thrilled that little old lady (we must support each other) Linda Hunt has a role. What does this have to do with travel? Well in my moments of pacing before the next grant paragraph I thought about all the steps to make my Africa journey productive, inspiring, fun and how to lose eight pounds while I'm away. This is pertinent why? Because the only way I can do the latter is to walk and walk and walk. And I can't afford to eat anything really delicious anyway (that's part of the travel budgeting decisions). Walking a lot will put me in touch with the streets of Cape Town, Windhoek, Gaborone and Johannesburg. And during the overnight (maybe) in a town in Lesotho. As most travel books will tell you, planning is half the fun. I did most of my packing last weekend. So early. Because. The suitcase MUST be light. Clothes, a couple of emergency books, although I want to buy many books in South Africa where a splendid display of literature we never hear about is available. Need some instant coffee, underwear, one pair of flats in case dressing up calls for something other than a big size of white tennies. That's it for today. Am I allowed just to chat like this on a blog? Or is that really tacky? Where do blog virgins go to learn protocol?
Sitting on the curb…waiting for the WORLD
WINDOW SEAT is alive and well…as a travel blog with some dance and theater and maybe a personal bit or two thrown into the mix. WINDOW SEAT, the book, will be how I got to here—a not-very-young woman with limited funds who is compelled to go-to-every-country-in-the-world-before-I-die. I have so far been to 61 countries which leaves 131-134 to go depending on who is counting and what month or year it is. Countries do come and go—for example, who knew TWO (Soviet Union and Yugoslavia) would become MANY (about 15)—so I must be concerned about whether my travel stamina and curiosity can keep up. I am fortunate to have a great job working with contemporary artists of every culture, every background and every ability. Often my travels are to see new work and perhaps invite these creative global adventurers to our art center in New Mexico. AND SOMETIMES MY TRAVELS ARE BECAUSE I NEED TO GO ROUND THE NEXT BEND OR SEE OVER THE NEXT RIDGE—revealing my love of road trips even if most places on my travel agenda cannot be reached in my trusty but aging Mazda.
But now…ENTERING BLOG LAND


text:
Tag: Cornwall
Anne Bonny #BlogTour Q&A with @CatherineAlliot ~ A Cornish Summer #NewRelease #HolidayFiction #BeachReads #Cornwall
A Cornish Summer by Catherine Alliott
Review To Follow
Synopsis ~
Flora's been in love with her husband for twenty years. The trouble is, he's been married to someone else for the past fifteen . . .
Now she's been invited to spend the summer in the shady lanes and sandy coves of Cornwall. It should be blissful.
There's just one small snag: she'll be staying with her former mother-in-law, Belinda.
And Flora discovers she's not the only one invited when her ex-husband shows up out of the blue, complete with his new wife. So now there are two small snags.
Can Flora spend the summer playing happy families with the woman who stole her husband's heart, and the mother-in-law who might have had a hand in it?
Or will stumbling on the family secret change her mind about them all?
If you like Fern Britton, Katie Fforde and Sophie Kinsella, you'll love this heartwarming read.
Q&A ~
Q) For the readers, can you talk us through your background and the synopsis of your new novel?
A) I started life as an advertising copywriter which I loved. I'd write TV commercials, go on shoots, create press ads, see huge posters I'd done on the tube – all great fun. Then I got married and we were stony broke so I fell on my sword and took a very boring job which doubled my salary. At my new agency where I wrote tedious brochures for hemorrhoid creams, to relieve the boredom, I secretly wrote a novel under the desk. Well, I say secretly; I'd got to about Chapter 5 when my boss called me in and said: "we think you're doing something else, you're fired." I mean, really! The conversation with my husband went like this: Darling – the bad news is I got the sack, but the good news is I'm writing a novel. Quite a lot of eye rolling, but on the whole he was great. Anyway, I finished the book, sent it to an agent – and luckily the rest is history, but I was VERY lucky. Back then there were fewer women writing (way back then, I'm very old) and it was easier to get published.
This novel is set in Cornwall which I adore and find any excuse to write about. I spent my childhood summers there and then all of my children's summers. They're grown up now and are out of bucket and spade holidays so I need an excuse to go back! The novel centers around Flora who grew up in Cornwall, but has lived in London for years. She's an artist, and returns to paint her ex father-in-law – ex, because she and her husband, Hugo are divorced. But is that really why she's returning to Cornwall, to paint? Or is it to involve herself yet again with Hugo's family? Her best friend Celia tells her grimly it's the latter, and decides to accompany her to keep an eye on her. Whilst in the breathtakingly beautiful manor by the sea, we meet the man himself, Hugo, plus a few other men, notably Ted the very attractive conservationist, and Tommy the annoying American who's Hugo's best friend. We meet Belinda, too, the ex mother in law, who is very definitely from hell, and Hugo's current wife, Christina. I say current, because who knows what might happen in the secret coves and shady lanes of sun-drenched, seductive Cornwall?
Q) Who are your favourite authors and recommended reads?
A) My all time favourite authors are JD Salinger – who annoyingly was not prolific – and Anne Tyler who luckily, is.
Q) What were your childhood/teenage favourite reads?
A) My favourite childhood author was Ruby Furguson who wrote a series of books about a girl called Jill and her pony. I badly wanted to be Jill, and I badly wanted a pony. I also loved anything by Noel Streatfield and Enid Blyton, who I feel is much maligned. When I was young they didn't even stock her in the library – which was where I went every Saturday morning with my father. He got busy in the Kierkegaard section, and I was happy for hours in the children's.
Q) What are you currently reading?
A) I'm currently reading Eligible by Curtis Sittenfeld which is a retelling of Pride and Prejudice and great fun. I read American Wife by the same author which I loved and am now working my way through her oeuvre. I do that, I binge read and I'm not happy until I've read the lot. I also over-listen to CD's and end up being unable to listen to them. Same with a box of chocolates. There's a lesson there somewhere…
Q) What has been your favourite moment of being a published author?
A) Gosh, tricky one…I mean every time a new novel comes out it's a huge moment, but I suppose it would have to be when I got to number one in the Sunday Times charts. I think it was with A Married Man but I'd have to check. Not so memorable, then…!
Q) Who has been your source of support/encouragement throughout the writing process?
A) Well obviously my husband, who's been a brick, and never minds if supper is late or non-existent because I'm writing, but the children would say they've helped too. My daughter claims I once rang the school office pre mobile phones and got her out of a maths lesson to help with my computer, but she tells as many stories as her mother.
Catherine Alliott
July 18, 2019 July 18, 2019 #Q&A, @CatherineAlliot, A Cornish Sumer, Author Q&A, Author talks, Beach Reads, Blog tour, Catherine Alliott, Cornwall, Holiday Fiction, new release2 Comments
Anne Bonny #BookReview The Death Of Mrs Westaway by @RuthWareWriter 5* #CrimeFiction #Mystery #Thriller #NewRelease @HarvillSecker Every family has its secrets. Some are worth killing for. . .
The Death Of Mrs Westaway by Ruth Ware
When Harriet Westaway receives an unexpected letter telling her she's inherited a substantial bequest from her Cornish grandmother, it seems like the answer to her prayers. She owes money to a loan shark and the threats are getting increasingly aggressive: she needs to get her hands on some cash fast.
There's just one problem – Hal's real grandparents died more than twenty years ago. The letter has been sent to the wrong person. But Hal knows that the cold-reading techniques she's honed as a seaside fortune teller could help her con her way to getting the money. If anyone has the skills to turn up at a stranger's funeral and claim a bequest they're not entitled to, it's her.
Hal makes a choice that will change her life for ever. But once she embarks on her deception, there is no going back.
She must keep going or risk losing everything, even her life…
The Death Of Mrs Westaway is a cracking mystery novel, that I read in one sitting (laid down!). It has a protagonist Hal (Harriet) that I became quite fond of. Hal hasn't had the easiest life by any measure and she is alone and facing tough choices in her young adulthood. I may or may not make the same choices she did. But I am guilty of certainly urging her to make them. I most definitely enjoyed watching the decision unfold.
The novel opens with Hal at her bleak attic flat at 'marine view villas'. She is surrounded by final notices, hassled by loan sharks and contemplating which bill she can go without paying rent, gas or electric? She is being hassled by debt companies at work and at home. You really feel for her dire financial situation.
She receives a solicitor's letter from a Mr Treswick of Penzance, Cornwall. He informs her due to the death of her grandmother Mrs Hester Mary Westaway, she is due a possible inheritance. He asks her to attend Trepassen House, for the funeral, wake and reading of the will.
The only issue is Hal's Grandparents died 20yrs ago when she was a baby. Her father remains unknown and her mother has recently died. Hal is unsure who this letter is intended for, but she is sure it is not her.
'You could claim this money, you know. Not many people could, but if anyone can pull this off it's you'
We then see Hal in action at Brighton pier as Madame Margarida. She is a cold reader of fortunes, tarot cards and psychic predictions etc. She asks fellow pier worker Reg for advice how tells her in no uncertain terms to 'take the money and run'. After her mothers accident and death, Hal became detached from her friends and previous social life. She is now a lonely, college dropout with no financial plan. Her loneliness really did resonate off the page. I felt so incredibly sorry for her. I echoed Reg and urged her to take the money.
'The person she was now was not the girl she would have been'
Hal begins internet research into the mysterious Westaway's. Looking for clues and insider information. She discovers Hester had three sons Harding, Abel and Ezra. She also uncovers a daughter Maud (feared dead).
She realises they think she is Maud's long-lost daughter.
'Whoever Maud Westaway had been, whatever had happened to her, she seemed to have gone without a trace'
Hal takes the train to Penzance and then the games really begin. Hal must utilise all her skill learnt at the pier to outwit the Westaway's. The mystery of the novel unravels at Trepassen House. I was absolutely glued to the pages.
A fantastic novel and a big fat 5* from me.
***Don't miss all the other bloggers on the blog tour***
Especially my blogger buddy for the day, The Writing Granet
June 25, 2018 June 25, 2018 5*, 5* reads, 5* review, @HarvillSecker, @RuthWareWriter, Brighton, Cornwall, Crime fiction, Family secrets, Harvill Secker, Mystery, new release, Psychological Thrillers, Ruth Ware, The Death Of Mrs Westaway, Thriller3 Comments
Anne Bonny #BookReview The Magpie Tree by @K_Stansfield 5* #HistoricalFiction #Cornwall #Witches #MissingChild #NewRelease @AllisonandBusby 1844 Jamaica Inn, Witches, gossip and a missing child!
The Magpie Tree by Katherine Stansfield
Cornish Mysteries #2
Jamaica Inn, 1844: the talk is of witches. A boy has vanished in the woods of Trethevy on the North Cornish coast, and a reward is offered for his return. Shilly has had enough of such dark doings, but her new companion, the woman who calls herself Anna Drake, insists they investigate. Anna wants to open a detective agency, and the reward would fund it. They soon learn of a mysterious pair of strangers who have likely taken the boy, and of Saint Nectan who, legend has it, kept safe the people of the woods. As Shilly and Anna seek the missing child, the case takes another turn – murder. Something is stirring in the woods and old sins have come home to roost.
1844 Jamaica Inn, Witches, gossip and a missing child!
'The day I went to the Jamaica Inn was the day I saw a man hanged'
Right from the opening line, the author sets the scene and the era perfectly. Rumours of local witches and their involvement in a missing child case are rife. A community in fear and two sleuths are on the case. . . .
Shilly and Anna Drake have a desire to set up their own detective agency. But with a lack of funds to do so, their plans haven't come to fruition. That is until they hear Sir Vivian Orton has offered a reward in the case of the missing child. The women set of on a journey to Trethevy, unaware of what awaits.
Along the journey the women debate the subject of witches, the danger it poses in the persecution of women. They know this case will be far from easy. Small town gossip spreads and has the whole community quickly gripped in fear.
Sir Vivian Orton's wife (Lady phoebe) is heavily pregnant and this impedes their investigation, they are unable to question her. The missing boy, Paul Hakell also has a twin named Peter. The ladies begin their efforts by organising a search of the local tunnels and mineshafts. Then they are made aware of the local legend of Saint Nectan, protector of children!
Shilly and Anna are an unusual pairing, they are eccentric yet sensible. They each have very different personalities, but they complement each other very well. As the plot unravels their relationship progresses and you have a greater understanding of who they are and the lives that shaped them.
Local man, Simon Proctor claims to have seen the missing boy, near the location of a cottage. A cottage that has two sisters in residence. The locals remark that they often conversate in the 'devils language'. Which the women quickly recognise as German. It is clear to see, how a miscommunication, in a small-minded community. Can grow into a fear mongering rumour that spreads.
The women have their work cut out in the small village of Trethevy.
Shillly and Anna agree to approach the sisters (with caution) and learn more about who they are and where they come from.
What they learn, will slowly help them unravel the case.
I really enjoyed the prose of this novel, it reminded me of the novel, Himself by Jess Kidd. With its odd characters and similar writing style. Every new development in the case adds more mystery and intrigue. The women quickly learn they can't trust anyone around them and this makes for a great suspenseful read!
The novel has a very clever ending that reads right up to the very last page.
I look forward to future novels in the series. 5*
Katherine Stansfield
#1 in the Cornish Mysteries series:
Falling Creatures by Katherine Stansfield
1844. A brutal murder rocks Victorian Cornwall. In a place where the dead lie uneasy in their graves, to find a murderer a young woman must first learn who she can trust.
I had loved her, though she was cruel, though she was sly. She and I were just as the rest of the world – creatures falling, creatures failing.
Cornwall, 1844. On a lonely moorland farm not far from Jamaica Inn, farmhand Shilly finds love in the arms of Charlotte Dymond. But Charlotte has many secrets, possessing powers that cause both good and ill. When she's found on the moor with her throat cut, Shilly is determined to find out who is responsible, and so is the stranger calling himself Mr Williams who asks for Shilly's help. Mr Williams has secrets too, and Shilly is thrown into the bewildering new world of modern detection.
April 12, 2018 April 12, 2018 #BookReview, #HistoricalFiction, #MissingChild, #Newrelease, 5*, 5* reads, 5* review, @AllisonandBusby, @K_stansfield, Allison and Busby, Book Review, Cornwall, historical fiction, Katherine Stansfield, Missing child, new release, The Magpie Tree, Witches2 Comments
Anne Bonny #BlogTour #BookReview The Stranger by @KateRiordanUK #ww2Fiction #HistoricalFiction #NewRelease @PenguinUKBooks
The Stranger by Kate Riordan
Cornwall, 1940.
In the hushed hours of the night a woman is taken by the sea.
Was it a tragic accident? Or should the residents of Penhallow have been more careful about whom they invited in?
In the midst of war three women arrive seeking safety at Penhallow Hall.
Each is looking to escape her past.
But one of them is not there by choice.
As the threat of invasion mounts and the nightly blackouts feel longer and longer, tensions between the close-knit residents rise until dark secrets start to surface.
And no one can predict what their neighbour is capable of . . .
In a house full of strangers, who do you trust?
Cornwall 1940
A missing woman and a small community filled with secrets…
The novel opens on Sunday 20th July 1940, the night Diana Devlin goes missing. The scene is set at Breakheart cove with the thunder and lightening of the coast as a backdrop.Five hours later, her friend Rose reads her diary muttering the words. . .
'Oh Diana what have you done?'
The novel timeline then jumps to six weeks previously and portrays the build up to her disappearance. We are quickly introduced to Diana, a danger seeking, reluctant land girl. Having been exiled by her own mother to the solitude of Cornwall, she takes it upon herself to create her own entertainment….
'One relishes a bit of danger'
At Penhallow Hall, we become acquainted with the other characters in the novel. The child-like and tearful Eleanor, the bossy and formidable Mrs Fox and the lonely wife Rose. Diana is quick to form a friendship with Rose, but Rose has secrets of her own and she is hesitant to share. Diana feels more and more isolated. She detests the bleak countryside and longs for drama and excitement. But it isn't long until a third land girl arrives, the young and timid Jane.
'And then there were three'
At first Diana remarks that Jane appears as a brooding irritable gypsy. She notes that Eleanor has begun to act odd, due to Jane's arrival. One thing is for certain, Diana feels like the cat among the pigeons.
'One good thing about this dreary war is that it encourages people to break the rules'
The novel focuses on the individual young women's stories. Their pasts will come back to haunt them, during their stay at Penhallow Hall. But What secrets lurk in their closets?
'I am on the wrong side of thick glass, looking in and trying to feel something'
I loved the slow, development of the characters. I felt the coastal setting and rural location of Cornwall, really added to the novel. Diana's manipulation of events and unsubtle hints, show her true character.
Her own secrets haunt her throughout the novel.
'they say that what we recoil from in others is what we are secretly ashamed of in ourselves'
As the girls grow closer, they do eventually confide in one another and this is when we get a glimpse into their pasts. Unhappy marriages, childhood shame and promiscuity all play their role. Between the late night confessions, gossip and speculation; you come to realise these are three young women with the weight of the world on their shoulders.
'This place is thick with secrets'
The ww2 era creates more tensions and drama. With each of the young women, fearing for their futures. Will the Germans invade? The nightly blackouts and wartime tensions, add pressure to these young women's lives. Then one of the women is taken by the sea. Did she fall? Was she pushed? Was it an innocent encounter? Or a sinister stranger? 4*
'They're all mad here'
Kate Riordan
March 13, 2018 March 13, 2018 #BookReview, #HistoricalFiction, #Newrelease, #ww2Fiction, 1940, @KateRiordanUK, @PenguinUKBooks, Blog tour, BlogTour, Book Review, Cornwall, Diana Devlin, historical fiction, Kate Riordan, new release, Penguin Books, review, The Stranger, ww2 fiction3 Comments
#BlogTour #GuestPost #Location #Cornwall Miss Boston & Miss Hargreaves by @RachelMalik99 @PenguinUKBooks @penguinrandom
Miss Boston And Miss Hargreaves by Rachel Malik
When Rene Hargreaves is billeted to Starlight Farm as a Land Girl, far from the city where she grew up, she finds farmer Elsie Boston and her country ways strange at first. Yet over the days and months Rene and Elsie come to understand and depend on each other. Soon they can no longer imagine a life apart.
But a visitor from Rene's past threatens the life they have built together, a life that has always kept others at a careful distance. Soon they are involved in a war of their own that endangers everything and will finally expose them to the nation's press and the full force of the law.
#GuestPost Location Cornwall:
Place is incredibly important in Miss Boston and Miss Hargreaves. The two central characters, Elsie Boston and Rene Hargreaves, lose the first home they share – Starlight Farm in Berkshire – during the Second World War. For many years after, they must travel through England looking for work and for somewhere to live. They spend time near the Lakes, in Yorkshire, in Devon and in Cornwall, where they find, just outside the village of Rosenys, a cottage, Wheal Rock, to which they are strongly drawn.
Cornwall is famous as a literary setting and I was very aware of this when I was writing Miss Boston and Miss Hargreaves. Far from the capital, Cornwall's peninsular geography can make it seem like a separate country, surrounded on three sides by the dangerous possibilities of water. When Rene returns to Rosenys from London she feels the boundary that she crosses:
[A]s the train left Plymouth and Devon and crawled across the homely Tamar, the journey caught up with her. At last she was going home. And then as she looked out of the window, everything outside started to come vivid. The tide was well out and in the sandy sludge of the river she could see waders, probably redshanks though it was hard to be sure looking for food … Each stop seemed to take an age: the train would squeal to a halt outside the station, and a brief lull of warmth and summer sound would come wafting through the open window. Rene would look out, often she could see the platform, almost within reach.
Many writers who have written about Cornwall, also lived there. One of my favourites, Daphne Du Maurier, spent childhood holidays in Cornwall and, most famously, leased 'Menabilly' a house near Fowey on the South Cornish Coast where she lived for over twenty-five years. Frenchman's Creek plays on the differences between rule-governed London and the wilder shores of Cornwall. In Rebecca, Manderley, as a place and way of living, is clearly distinct from the artifice of Monte Carlo where the narrator meets Maxim de Winter for the first time, or from London (depicted as a combination of bohemian Soho and orderly, domestic Maida Vale). At Manderley, nature and tradition appear to combine in some ideal way. Except that the house is haunted. The sea – central to the Cornish geography – is central to this haunting. There are places in the house where there is no sight or sound of the sea, others where it is insistent. The sinister housekeeper, Mrs Danvers explains to the second Mrs De Winter:
'"You know now", she said, why Mr De Winter does not use these rooms anymore. Listen to the sea"'
It is the sea that brings Rebecca back to life.
Winston Graham who wrote the Poldark novels moved to Perranporth on the North Cornish Coast in 1925 when he was only 17 (he already knew he wanted to be a writer) and lived there till 1960. The first Poldark novel starts in 1783, just after the end of the American Revolutionary War and was published in 1945. The last Poldark novel ends in 1820 – it's a period of dramatic change and conflict. In the Poldark novels, Cornwall is represented as less socially fettered than many other parts of the country, and many days ride from London. One of my favourite things about these books is how they trace the interdependent lives of a whole community. Much of the hazardous adventure in Poldark stems from Cornwall's closeness to various other dangerous places: Ireland and above all France.
The Cornwall in which Rene and Elsie live is very different. It's the 1950s, some of the harshness of post-war austerity is ending, but money is still very tight. The cottage they come to love, Wheal Rock, close to the chimney of an old mine, isn't by the sea though it is never far away and water becomes very important as the novel reaches its climax. They live outside Rosenys, but they are also a tentative part of it, accepted by the village. When the two women are faced with danger, there is support for them from neighbours, even if some find them odd.
Early in the novel, Rene and Elsie have to leave a place they love and become wanderers, they must follow the work and when the work ends they have to move on. Without work, they are, quite literally, homeless. When they rent Wheal Rock, Rene and Elsie are reminded of the long lost Starlight, but they also see the possibility of a new beginning. Wheal Rock seems to offer the chance to make a real home (and not just a place to live). This is one of the key things the novel is about: the struggle to build a home and what people are prepared to do when that home and the security it offers are threatened.
Rachel Malik
February 14, 2018 February 14, 2018 #GuestPost, #Location, @Penguinrandom, @PenguinUKBooks, @RachelMalik99, BlogTour, Cornwall, Miss Boston And Miss Hargreaves, Rachel MalikLeave a comment

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


As you all already know, I am a Fast and Furious stan. I love everything about those stupid movies, but there is not one scene I love more than the vault-dragging scene from Fast Five. It's a classic, breathless action sequence and finally I get to see it broken down bit-by-bit by its stunt coordinator.
If you haven't seen Fast Five (and boy, are you missing out) the film's climactic scene involves Dominic Toretto and Brian O'Conner dragging a stolen vault filled with $100 million through the streets of Rio using two matte black Dodge Chargers. There's plenty of crashing and smashing and it's effin' great.
Earlier this week, Vanity Fair published an interview with Jack Gill, the stunt coordinator who worked on the vault scene from the film. Right away, he answered one of the burning questions I had when I first saw the scene: they actually dragged a 9,000-pound vault around. It was real.
And that bank building the vault smashed through? It was a specially built structure designed to be destroyed. The crew laid a huge track through the floor of the building and loaded the vault onto an enormous ram that sent it tumbling through.
Those are just two gems from the interview, which spans about 20 minutes. You should watch the whole thing, and then watch the finished product again. Behind-the-scenes stuff like this is awesome.


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Berry People Expands to Support Steady Growth
Berry People (www.berrypeople.com), a year-round, full-line shipper of branded organic and conventional strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, and avocados has created new positions within its organization, added team members, and moved operations to a larger central CA office to accommodate the growth, with team members temporarily working from home until the mitigation of COVID-19 matters.
Damon Barkdull – Sr. Commodity-Sales Manager
"We are thankful to be an essential part of the nation's food supply chain, allowing us to support the people in our Berry People community, including our growers, employees, customers and consumers," said Jerald Downs, president, speaking of the worldwide effects of COVID-19. "We're assessing the short and long-term effects of the pandemic, and taking measures to manage business risk, while also ensuring the safety of our field labor, consumers, and everyone in between. Our cloud-based and mobile work environment allow us to continue the quality of service that our buyers and growers expect, and we are effectively managing our supply-chain to support the market's demands."
These business moves are consistent with the company's long-term strategic plan for continual expansion since launching in 2017. Recent key hires include the addition of an ERP-process analyst, financial controller and regional supply managers. "These specialized roles improve functional efficiency, optimize deployment of resources, tighten risk management, and deepen relationships with growers and suppliers," said Michael Osumi, VP Supply-Operations.
"Strong core values and a clear company vision support our intentional organization and job design, so our valued team members convey a unified brand promise to our service providers and customers," said Downs. "These characteristics support our 'unity in diversity' philosophy, leaning into each other's strengths towards a common goal. Our growth and building balance sheet also enable us to increase our investment activity in technology, genetics, and packaging innovation, which supports our long-term growth and profitability."
Michael Osumi – VP Supply-Operations
"As we approach our third full year in business, our customers can increasingly rely on us for substantially increased volume coverage, and improved continuity across the entire berry and avocado categories, materially reducing the seasonal gaps that are common with young companies like ours," added Damon Barkdull, senior commodity-sales manager. "With strong business results and overwhelmingly positive customer feedback to date, we never stop looking for better ways to anticipate needs and shorten response times."
Berry People and its alliance partners have operations in California, Mexico, Chile, and Peru. The company offers year-round availability of organic and conventional strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries and avocados through the Berry People and Avo People brands.
"As we build financial strength, we plan to build our 'social balance sheet' as well, increasing our position in and commitment to both the marketplace, and to the communities we work in," said Downs. "We look forward to giving back to the stakeholders that have embraced our organization, appreciating the fact that
Jerald Downs – President
we're a company whose growth is driven fundamentally by trust."
Berry People's short-term plans include the significant expansion of its summer organic strawberry program and a substantially increased position in the Peruvian avocado and blueberry industries.
About Berry People:
Berry People is a year-round, full-line shipper of branded organic and conventional strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries and avocados, and owner of the Berry People and Avo People brands. Headquartered in Hollister, California, the company's ownership and key alliance partners hold important production assets in California, Mexico, Chile and Peru. All product is graded and allocated by pallet, and all growers are fully compliant with USDA and FDA regulations on food safety and organic practices. Berry People operates with a strong company ethos along its entire supply chain that emphasizes complementarity, stewardship and empathy. For more information, visit www.berrypeople.com, or www.avopeople.com.
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Western Growers Inaugurates Next Generation of Agricultural Leaders
To identify and prepare the next generation of Western Growers (WG) members for positions …


After the trials of having to change venue twice in 2 years the 2019 Supercar Event will be on Saturday 1st June at Goodwood.
We are very pleased to have secured this Iconic venue for the next two years at least. In 2019 it will be a one day event, but in 2020 we will be back to a 2 days event, although it will be on a Friday / Saturday.
I know Pete has already done the drivers list, but there will be an space available for a Club Scud static display area - if there is enough interest - please post below if you want to do this so we can gauge the level of interest.
The Trust and The Committee are always very grateful for the support we receive from Club Scuderia. If you haven't been to the event do come along and see what it is about.
Spider,or coupe? Just get one of each.
I was planning to be a driver - but given recent events, that isn't happening.
If there is a display, I'd like to be part of that if my car is back on the road by 1st June. Current estimate was mid-May, but that might change once it's been stripped down I guess.
I am down to drive at this. However, if noise limits apply then it's very unlikely I can venture out on circuit and would be happy to be part of the static display.
That is great and is really appreciated by everyone involved.


Lyrics: There's a spider on the floor, on the floor.
Who could ask for anything more, than a spider on the floor.
Now the spider's on my leg, on my leg.
Oh, I wish I had some Raid for this spider on my leg!
Now the spider's on my chest, on my chest!
Oh, I'd squish him in my vest, if it didn't make a mess!
Now the spider's on my neck, on my neck!
Now the spider's on my neck on my neck!
Oh, I'm gonna be a wreck, I've got a spider on my neck!
Now the spider's on my face, on my face!
Now the spider's on my face, on my face !
Oh, what a big disgrace, I've got a spider on my face!
Now the spider's on my head, on my head!
Oh, I wish that he were dead. I've got a spider on my head!
SPOKEN: "But he jumped off.... "


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NFL Player and FHC Alum Pierre Desir Donates $185,000 for Fitness Center/
NFL Player and FHC Alum Pierre Desir Donates $185,000 for Fitness Center
Francis Howell Central » News » 2019-20 News Archive » NFL Player and FHC Alum Pierre Desir Donates $185,000 for Fitness Center
On March 14, 2019, FHC alum and NFL player Pierre Desir signed a three-year contract extension with the Indianapolis Colts. Within days of the signing, the former Spartan was in contact with FHC because he wanted to give back to the school that "gave him so much." He is generously donating $185,000 and has asked that it be used to transform the FHC fitness center and benefit an entirely new generation of students.
Desir was born in Haiti and immigrated to America with his family when he was only four years old. While at FHC, Desir was a star on the football team and named an all-state defensive back. After high school, he went on to play football for Washburn and Lindenwood University. He worked hard both on and off the field, and eventually his perseverance and talent led him to be drafted by the Cleveland Browns in 2014. Coming from a small college, Desir overcame the long odds of playing professional football, and is now living out his dream.
While Desir has a lot to celebrate, one of his first thoughts after signing his new contract was how he could give back. "I learned so much throughout my years in high school," said Desir. "I wanted to show my appreciation for what they have done for me throughout my career and when I was in school."
The donation will allow FHC to build a state-of-the-art fitness center and weight room that can be used by all students. It will provide more space and professional equipment for athletes to train for sports, but also for students to utilize during physical education classes. "My hope for the fitness room is to allow kids to come into an environment where they're proud of," said Desir. "More kids will be able to come in and be active with all of the new equipment."
With big changes coming to the FHC facility, the school community is excited and grateful to Pierre for his generosity. "I am so thankful to him to be the person that he is and to have the desire to do all of that," said FHC Principal Dr. Sonny Arnel. "It's gratifying for everyone in the Francis Howell School District that we can inspire a kid like that." Not only will FHC benefit from the donation, but other schools will as well. The equipment from the old FHC weight room will be passed down to Saeger and Hollenbeck to be used by middle school students.
"It's just very moving to see somebody so generous who wants to give back and help others," said FHC Activities Director Scott Harris. "He genuinely cares for these kids." Harris shared how Desir comes back to campus often and talks with students. He attends basketball games and occasionally works out in the FHC fitness center. "It's cool how we have a person from our high school who is represented in the NFL and is still coming back, getting to know us, and getting to inspire us even though we are just high school kids," said FHC junior Sophie Delaney.
Desir's work ethic and generosity are great examples for the students at FHC, and he is someone that they can look up to as a professional football player and also as a fellow Spartan. "It's exciting for him to be on the national stage and to get his spotlight," said Harris. "But I like showing the example of him not giving up." It is important for students to dream big, and Desir has shown them the results of hard work and passion.
Now, Desir can give back and help other Spartans work towards their own goals and ambitions. "I am just blown away by him," said FHC sophomore Kennedy Jensen. "He is changing lives for everyone at Central because we get to better ourselves. I am very thankful for him."
As FHC begins work on the new fitness center, they are also focusing on the branding of the space. The school is dedicating a wall to Pierre as a thank you for his generosity and support. The wall is a perfect way to honor their successful alum and to foster a sense of pride as well. It will also serve as a reminder for students – a reminder that they can go as far as their talent and drive will take them, and still remember where it all started.


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NAT BALDWIN - "Look She Said" by Western Vinyl
In 2008 double bassist/singer-songwriter Nat Baldwin released Most Valuable Player, an album that led Pitchfork to say "…he brings fierce performances to these polished compositions." Now 5 years later, Western Vinyl is proud to be releasing the original demos from Most Valuable Player, which were recorded in 2005 and 2006. The demo album, titled Dome Branches, features Nat's bandmate from Dirty Projectors, David Longstreth on guitar and electronics, Djim Reynolds on guitar, Nathan Horton on drums, Tim Keiper on drums, Matt Bauder on Clarinets, Jessica Pavone on viola. Throughout these demos, there's a remarkable raw energy stemming at least in part from the fact that Nat hadn't performed any of the material live yet, and Longstreth hadn't heard the songs before, so his guitar parts were made up on the spot. After studying avant-garde jazz and improvisation with jazz legend Anthony Braxton, Nat Baldwin started writing songs featuring double bass and vocals. In 2005 he joined Dirty Projectors. In addition to his work with Dirty Projectors, he has performed on Grizzly Bear's Sheilds, Vampire Weekend's Contra, and Department of Eagles' In Ear Park. In between touring and recording with Dirty Projectors, Nat made time to record his 2011 album People Changes, an album that led Pitchfork to say "…whether Baldwin is singing with his throat or his bow, there's a thrilling felling of freedom to it all." More recently, he's been writing, recording, and arranging songs for a new album to be released in 2014. You can hear some of the new material live this September when Nat tours in the US and Canada.
Nat Baldwin
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Basketball logos
Washington Wizards Logo
basketball | Washington
Washington Wizards Logo PNG
The most notable logo redesigns the basketball team the Washington Wizards has gone through were the result of the changes of the team's name.
Though the Washington Wizards basketball club was officially born only in 1997, the team's history dates back to 1962, when the Chicago Zephyrs club was established. After that, the team relocated and changed its name several times throughout the years, redesigning its logo with enviable consistency.
The original Chicago Zephyrs logo, designed in 1962, featured a simple and light Sanz-serif lettering, placed diagonally from the upper left corner to the bottom right. The wordmark was executed in gold-beige shade and outlines in thin blue. This logo only stayed with the club for several months.
In 1963 Zephyrs relocate to Baltimore and become Baltimore Bullets, with the new logo introduced in the same year. It was a white basketball outlined in blue with a red sans-serif "Bullets" lettering and smaller size blue "Baltimore" above it.
The redesign of 1968 created a new emblem for the club. It was a bold stylized inscription in the lowercase, where the smooth red lettering had its double "L" drawn as two hands with a bright red basketball above them. The blue "Baltimore" inscription was placed above the main logo.
1969 — 1971, 1972 — 1973
In 1969 the color palette of the emblem was switched to bright blue and gold, with all the elements except the basketball drawn in blue and evoking a sense of reliability, energy, and loyalty.
For one year, in 1971, the club used its emblem drawn in dark blue and red, with both parts of the wordmark in blue, and the red basketball above two stylized hands. It was a powerful and professional logo look.
The name of the club was changed to Capital Bullets in 1973, after their relocation to Washington. As for the emblem, it remained the same, only the "Baltimore" lettering was replaced by the "Capital", executed in the same blue color.
The name of the club was changed to Washington Bullets in 1974. The badge remained untouched, as well as its bright blue and red color palette, just the "Capital" wordmark was replaced by the "Washington".
In 1987 the Washington Bullets logo was redesigned. Its iconic lowercase inscription was switched to a title case, and the contours of two "hands" were redrawn in a more minimalist and smooth manner.
The name of the club changed to Washington Wizards in 1997, and the completely new logo is being introduced in the same year. The new emblem features a stylized image of a wizard in a light blue color palette, with a gold moon on his left, having a pattern of a basketball, and a gold and black ball above his right hand. The "Wizards" wordmark was placed under the image written in all capitals of a modern serif typeface.
The redesign of 2007 only changed the gold shades to a lighter one, keeping all the other elements untouched. The emblem started looking fresher and more elegant in comparison to the previous version.
The color palette of the Washington Wizards' visual identity was changed to navy-blue and red in 2011. The wordmark was now executed in an italicized sans-serif typeface with rounded angles and some tails of the letters sharpened.
The redesign of 2015 brought a new look to the Wizards' emblem, and now it is a circular badge with a stylized blue and white basketball enclosed in a thick red and blue frame with white lettering around its perimeter. The inscription is executed in a fancy sans-serif typeface with bold smooth lines.
The lettering seen on the Washington Wizards new logo appears to have been inspired by Friz Quadrata Bold, which is a glyphic serif typeface created by Ernst Friz in collaboration with Victor Caruso. The same font was the basis of the wizard/crescent logo, too. It has been heavily modified for the newer logo, though.
The Washington Wizards logo font is bolder and narrower, while the italicized effect is gone. The letters in the current version don't have enough "breathing space" and, because of it, the insignia isn't particularly legible at smaller sizes.
All the colors of the official palette – red (PMS 186), navy blue (PMS 289), and silver (PMS 877) – can be seen on the logo Washington Wizards use as the global one. White is used as an additional color.
Washington Wizards Colors
PANTONE: PMS 289 C
HEX COLOR: #002B5C;
RGB: (0,43,92)
CMYK: (100,64,0,60)
HEX COLOR: #E31837;
RGB: (227,24,55)
CMYK: (0,100,81,4)
PANTONE: PMS 877
HEX COLOR: #C4CED4;
RGB: (196,206,212)
CMYK: (5,0,0,20)
Denver Nuggets Logo
Centenary Gentlemen Logo
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Miami Heat Logo
Golden State Warriors Logo
Memphis Grizzlies Logo
Boston Celtics Logo
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Nirvana by Illusions Vapor is an amazingly fruitful blend of mango, peach, and raspberry. Without over powering each other, every fruit blends smoothly to create a tropical vaping experience that you'll love from your first taste. This e-liquid is fantastic for the warmer seasons and provides excellent hits that are far from dry. A definite must-try for all fruit flavor lovers.


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J-PAL and Pratham awarded philanthropic funding toward education systems change: New Teaching at the Right Level Africa initiative to support over three million primary school students with evidence-backed approach
J-PAL Global
J-PAL Africa
Photo: J-PAL/Pratham
Contact: Eliza Keller, [email protected], (+001) 617-324-5991.
On January 15, Co-Impact, a global philanthropic collaborative for systems change, announced a commitment of US$80 million and technical support to five initiatives with proven systems changing strategies in education, health, and economic opportunity. Teaching at the Right Level (TaRL) Africa, led jointly by MIT's Abdul Latif Jameel Poverty Action Lab (J-PAL) and the Indian NGO Pratham, was selected as one of the five initiatives receiving funding under this commitment. TaRL Africa was selected after rigorous assessment from an initial pool of over 250 initiatives.
Despite progress worldwide in school enrollment, millions of children in schools across Africa are not acquiring basic reading and arithmetic skills. The Co-Impact grant will support J-PAL's policy team and Pratham in working with governments and their partners to scale up the Teaching at the Right Level approach in multiple countries across Africa. This complements a burgeoning movement of players and programs in Africa committed to addressing the learning crisis through TaRL.
Pioneered by Pratham, TaRL is based on several key elements at the classroom level:
(1) Using a simple tool, children are assessed on their ability to read and do arithmetic.
(2) Then, children are grouped for instruction by level, rather than by grade. For a few hours per day the focus is on building foundational skills through activities and materials appropriate for each group.
(3) As children progress in reading and arithmetic, they move into the next learning group and continue to grow.
Shifting from "schooling for all" to "learning for all" also requires critical systems-level support. This includes working with stakeholders to adjust the approach to local contexts, developing and supporting a cadre of mentors, and continually assessing basic skills and empowering government officials and teachers to act on this data.
Since 2001 J-PAL-affiliated researchers have tested the TaRL approach through rigorous impact evaluations. Six randomized evaluations in India over the past two decades and a growing body of research in Africa have shown that TaRL has led to some of the largest and cost-effective learning gains of any primary education program evaluated. For example, in a randomized evaluation in Haryana, India, the TaRL approach implemented by government school teachers led to significant improvements in reading, with the largest gains made by children who were furthest behind.
The five-year Co-Impact grant enables the J-PAL/Pratham team to continue to support the scale-up of TaRL and reach at least three million students—and potentially millions more in the future. J-PAL and Pratham will set up a new initiative, TaRL Africa, with full-time staff based in South Africa, Cote d'Ivoire, Nigeria, Zambia, and other countries in the region.
J-PAL, Pratham, and TaRL Africa partners hope that Co-Impact's rigorous assessment and significant pledge of support will encourage further philanthropic, international donor and government investments in TaRL.
Rukmini Banerji, CEO of Pratham, said,
"Using Teaching at the Right Level, we have helped millions of children to read and to do basic math in India. Together with J-PAL, we are excited to have the opportunity to work in Africa with many partners. Foundational skills can transform a child's life and unlock their potential to do so much more in education and in life. We are grateful for Co-Impact's support for this partnership."
Iqbal Dhaliwal, Executive Director of J-PAL, said,
"This grant represents the critical importance of using evidence from rigorous impact evaluations to drive decision-making. Our partnership with Pratham is based on innovation, learning, and a unifying vision—shared with Co-Impact—of creating systems-level change. Through investing in rigorous research and evidence-backed approaches, we can disrupt the status quo and transform lives. We have a lot of work ahead of us and are putting together an outstanding team to lead and execute this exciting initiative."
The TaRL Africa initiative will work with governments, local schools and NGOs, donors, and supporters to develop the foundations essential for lifelong learning, opening doors for the next generation of global citizens.
For more information about Teaching at the Right Level and to learn how to become a partner, visit www.teachingattherightlevel.org. For more information about J-PAL, visit www.povertyactionlab.org. For more information about Pratham, visit www.pratham.org.
The Abdul Latif Jameel Poverty Action Lab (J-PAL) is a global research center based at the Masachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) working to reduce poverty by ensuring that policy is informed by scientific evidence. Anchored by a network of more than 170 affiliated professors at universities around the world, J-PAL draws on results from randomized impact evaluations to answer critical questions in the fight against poverty.
We build partnerships with governments, NGOs, donors, and others to share this knowledge, scale up effective programs, and advance evidence-informed decision-making. J-PAL was launched at the MIT in 2003 and has regional centers in Africa, Europe, Latin America & the Caribbean, North America, South Asia, and Southeast Asia.
Pratham is an innovative learning organization. Set up almost 25 years ago, Pratham believes that every child should be in school and learning well. Pratham means 'first' or "primary" in Sanskrit. As one of the largest non-governmental organizations in the country, Pratham facilitates India's well-known Annual Status of Education Report (ASER) exercise, which has been providing estimates of reading and arithmetic skills every year for every rural district in India since 2005.
For the past two decades and more, Pratham has focused on high-quality, low-cost learning improvement interventions that help millions of children progress and thrive. Working directly with communities and schools, Pratham reaches close to a million children every year. Working in partnership with state governments, Pratham is able to contribute to the learning improvement of several million children annually.
Release: Co-Impact announces $80 million in grants aimed at improving the lives of 9 million people in Africa, South Asia, and Latin America
J-PAL case study: Teaching at the right level to improve learning
Teaching at the Right Level home page
Teaching at the Right Level case studies from Botswana, India, Kenya, Madagascar, Niger, Nigeria, and Zambia