Pigorilla Power !
59
13 January 2010
Well....Wow....here we are, Pigorillians....2010. It’s always felt like such a big year, although it couldn’t have been as big as I remember the build up to 2000 being. At least there was no risk of our computers crashing! Anyway, here it is and we can do whatever we want with it.....or can we? How much of what we do is already dictated to us by what has been jammed down our throats.
I’ve been fortunate to have sisters that loved their school career so it has been good to take a glimpse of that side of the fence. I am consistently reminded by my father how fortunate I was to have gone to the school I went to, and the financial sacrifices that made it possible for me to be there. After twenty four years of deliberation, I would like to finally conclude that it did me no good, and if anything, was the beginning of my acceptance that things were often just not going to be the way I wanted, and I should accept them for the way that they are. The fact that I was very unhappy away from where I grew up and all my childhood friends was not an issue. It was the “right” school, and I was to enjoy it at all costs, including, it appears, the cost of future security and contentment. Not indefinitely, one hopes, but certainly, till now.
I am still in contact with several boys/men from the school, and some, like my closest friend at Clifton and Michaelhouse has gone on to become a game ranger and has not been any more the wiser or more connected from having attended the school. Others have “networked” quite well within the school attendees and managed to achieve varying degrees of financial success through their clever posturing. There were others (perhaps the vast majority), who slotted effortlessly into the three most important aspects of the school.... Sport, Sport, and Sport, and no doubt loved every minute of it.
Very little else was given any real importance. There were “honours” badges for “Mathematics Olympiad” achievements, but there was no respect ever afforded to these champions of intelligence unless, of course, they also happened to play “centre” for the 1st team. We had one of the South African greats of hockey in our school, but despite achieving far more than anyone in any other sport, he only achieved marginal fame amongst his peers. Hockey was more of a girls sport than for budding men.
I guess what happens when you go to a Christian school is that you end up getting Christianity rammed down your throat. Well, that didn’t impress me either. From an early age when I was attending bible study going to St James Church in the leafy suburb of Morningside in Durban, South Africa, where my father was a deacon and my mother was still alive, I was confused and bewildered by the stories that the grown-ups were teaching us. Even then, I remember the lack of conviction with which my questions were responded to. In their defence, on adult retrospection, they didn’t have too much in the way of facts working for them and that is perhaps why the word faith and the explanation of what faith means features so high in my recollection. At Michaelhouse it was the same old chestnut getting chewed over and over and over again. It is extremely difficult to think freely about things when you are bombarded by having to be a great sportsman or foster a belief in something that makes no sense to you. On the other hand, education was important in that one needed to at least average in the class to remain under the radar. My inability to be able to concentrate for any lengths of time left me feeling bored and inclined to play the fool in class from an early age. The teachers thought I was disruptive and made very little effort with me other than to give me a difficult time of it all for disrupting their class.
I gained very little real satisfaction out of smoking cigarettes....more often than not, they just made me dizzy and nauseous and I was often surprised that my smoking colleagues would try and squeeze in two in one sitting. What smoking did give me was a place where, in a sea of activities where I didn’t fit in, I finally had a little group of mates that I could hang out with and also share some of my dissatisfaction with the school and everything that forced me to be there. My smoking buddies were all more fortunate than I was when they were handing out the weapons to defend yourself during boarding school, but were for the most part not particularly enamoured with the status quo and looking forward to breaking free when it was all over. They were, without exception, very interesting individuals and I’m still in contact with the most of them. It’s funny how you spend so much time with people and then through circumstance and the vagaries of life, you all bumble off and do your own thing on another part of the planet. It all seems to me to be so primitive. Where are we going with all of this? This little recollection of my impression of my school life isn’t supposed to be a cry for help for someone to come up with a way to send me back in time twenty two years and score the winning try in the final game of rugby for the year to put the school at the top of the log (or whatever it was) making me an indomitable hero with the my whole school cheering while the opposition hang their heads in defeat (although I imagine that that must be right up there when it comes to “cool feelings”).
This is the New Year Pigorillian message of hope, peace and wonderful, warm, fuzzy wishes for the year ahead. Perhaps those feelings of happiness can be derived from the ten years of school that you may not have disliked to the same extent and you can finally look back and think, “Gee, that was ok!” or perhaps you may think, “His schooling doesn’t sound too bad!”, in which case, all it will mean is that I have not yet told you sufficient. The exact same events are looked at in a different way by different people experiencing it in a different way. The most splendid beautiful sunrise after a night of raving and careless abandon is often greeted by a euphoric sense of gratitude and marvel at the splendour of it all which can be accompanied (on the good days) by a washing through the body of freedom and bliss. On any given day, there is someone else in a different place that is looking upon the same sunset and wishing they could have the previous day over so that they don’t have to greet that sunrise with the doom that they now know is impending and imminent. Should we be happy and content as the one who is appreciating it and not spare a thought for those in different circumstances? Perhaps we should think about them after we have appreciated the sunrise, or how about before the sunrise, in order that we can appreciate the sunrise with no guilt?
Our lives are too random, for my liking. I’m not happy with mine because I am so aware of exactly what I need to improve it, and the implications of acquiring those things. On the other hand, it is unlikely that you will find a more grateful individual for what they have than me. I am only too aware of how difficult life could be if you are born as a deformed mute; pull a boiling pot of oil off the stove over your head at the age of eleven, disfiguring you even further with immense and continuous pain and die of aids after a long illness by the age of forty.
Having just taken a break from my lamenting regurgitation of my rendition of life on earth so far, I put my head out the window and have been wonderfully surprised by my whole garden being covered in a thick layer of beautiful snow and still more fluttering to ground majestically (if you’re one of Londons homeless out there, you may feel that it is falling rather mercilessly!).
This cannot be another year where we wonder where it has gone, or what we did with it. The world is perilously close to being in big trouble and it’s up to each Pigorillian to make sure that none of it stems from our own little patch of environment or energy source. I’m resigned to the knowledge that I am going to have to work for money this year, but with my new man and van business which is being well received by my loyal Gumtree supporters, I am sure that it will all work out OK. I’m digging in my heels till July when I receive my British citizenship which will then bring a further wealth of opportunities to my table.
Keep the Faith and grab this year by the horns and shake it by the antlers till it rattles!
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