'The most random thing...cont.

Blogger is being retarded and won't let me make a long post, so you'll have to read this in installments...

So, this film crew were running around the zoo, interviewing Dominic and film various animal species. Keith continued to question me about all my research. I explained my volunteer study and, after noting that this obviously wasn't what he was looking for, I volunteered information on my other work. I began by mentioning the study that I conducted looking at the behaviour of chimps in single-sex groups. At this point Keith's face lit up and he said something along the lines of, 'That's just what we are looking for!'

He proceeded to explain that the theme for that episode of said talk show was, what he called, the Patriarchy VS Matriarchy debate. He further explained that he would like to interview me along with Dominic on the topic.

Not thinking, I assumed that he meant, perhaps, at some stage in the future, we could organise it and he'd let me know. But this was not to be. Moments later the cameras were on, there was a mircophone and boom in my crotch and Dominic and Keith were practicing their entrance walk. Meanwhile, Athena had gacefully and cunningly darted inbetween the film crew and was standing behind them all grinning at me.

So, completely unprepared and, to a degree, in a state of shock, I was interviewed. Part of the interview was asking about bonobos, which are a species of chimp with a notorious sex life. It was really awkward being asked, and I quote, 'Who do you think has the better deal? Bonobos, or chimpanzees?' I responded with, 'I'd have to say, bonobos...'

Overall, it was quite fun, but definitely the most random thing that has happened to me in a long time!

The most random thing...

So I've not posted in a very long time, but I've been very busy, learning to Scuba dive, writing up my masters dissertation, going on 60km cycle races without any training...that sort of thing. But this post isn't about that. No, this post is about something that happened to me yesterday while I engaged in the seemingly benign act of chimpanzee observations at the zoo...

I was observing with a friend who is also one of my volunteers, Athena. It wasn't a fantastic observation day as there were countless numbers of irritating school children running amok in the zoo, hurtling food items whily-nilly at the chimpanzees, which always puts a dampener on things. None the less, we had been observing for about 20 min, not counting all the times I had to stop to shout at children. Suddenly, I felt a hand slap my side and a voice said, 'Howzit Bud'?'

As one may have guessed, this doesn't happen very often when one is doing chimpanzee observations...

I finished marking the behaviour I had just observed, being a scientist data collection comes first, and turned around. I was surprised but relieved to see that the slapper was Dominic, the curator for carnivores at the zoo. He's a really nice guy, who I've never really met but always insists on smiling and being very friendly towards me. Better that than the alternative I figure...

So I greeted him and we chatted a bit about how annoying the little children are. Then, he turned around and spoke to some people behind him. 'Don't you want to speak to him instead,' he said, referring to me. 'After all, he studies chimps...'

The small gathering behind him concluded that this was a good idea and a tall individual with an...interesting beard, approached me. He introduced himself (anyone who knows me knows that I am hopeless with names, so for the purposes of this post, he shall be called Keith - it's really just to protect the innocent...) and began asking me about my research and what I did. It was at this point that Dominic explained that they were a film crew who were shooting a small insert for a talk show and that they had been around the zoo looking at the different animals.

Hell hounds and sleeping late

'Sup gangsta's?

It's been ages since I last blogged, and, as usual, the reason is that things have been getting a little hectic of late. The latest event-o-hecticness has been house-sitting for my aunt and uncle while they cruised along french canals on a riverboat with their daughters. I always love house-sitting for them because they have a really nice place and I get to be away from my family. Now, don't get me wrong, I love them all very much and I love being with them. It's just that a man (it feels SO wrong to refer to myself as a man...it should say 'boy', or at the worst 'guy') needs to feel independent, even if it's not real independence. And I love the freedom of living on my own, having to cook for myself (I LOVE COOKING!!! The novelty will ware off, I'm sure...) and just generally living at my own, albeit slowish, pace.

Coupled with the glorious fantasticallity of house-sitting, comes the actual job of upkeep of the house and it's inhabitants. My aunt and uncle have a cat (previously two cats...a story for another day for those who don't already know it...), a dog and a whole host of potplants. The first and last on that list are a piece of cake to care for, despite my constant forgetting to water the plants. It's the dog that's the problem.

He's a black labrador retriever. He's not even a year old and he has already wraught more damage on that house than a mob of angry peasants storming a castle. In the first week that I house sat for them, he managed to do the following. I kept a list, for my own amusement and to ensure that I could report the horror to the rest of the world via this, my blog.

10/08 Woke up to find that the dog had, during the night devoured a frisbee, a DVD cover, a pack of Prestik sticky putty and a full pack of 'Happy Birthday' stickers, leaving the kitchen floor coated in small festive birthday wishes and bits of plastic.

11/08 Woke up to find that the dog had left, not one, not two, but THREE steaming brown mountains on the kitchen floor. Coupled with this, the mutt had somehow managed to pee UNDER a couch in the TV room! (How a dog does this, I do not know!)

12/08 Woke up to find another turd on the TV room floor.

13/08 Dog obviously felt that previous days present wasn't sufficient and doubled his efforts: two piles of processed dog food on the floor.

14/08 For some reason the pooch was so excited about the prospect of going outside in the morning that he wet himself...and the floor...

15/08 The dog once again felt that he needed to give more. He pooped on the floor again (Thank God for tiles!!!)

16/08 Awoke to discover the remains of a book of unknown title (apparently something to do with buffalo from what I could make out of the pieces of the cover I could find...), a series of magazines, several unopened letters of my aunt and uncle's.

This is but a taste of the horror that is this dog. Coupled with these little daily extras was constant bringing-in of bits of garden, the removal of several bits of paving and the attempted and (luckily!) failed devouring of a garden hose.

Damn! This CD is good...

So, on Friday I went and bought myself a CD. I was given a gift card by a friend for my birthday earlier this year and I hadn't used all the credit on the card yet, so I thought, before it expired (assuming that they can do that...) I'd better go spend the remaining money.

So I went off with my sister to go and select a CD. I was down to three options: The soundtracks of 'Hero' and 'V for Vendetta', both great movies with good music, or a compilation of the singles of Basement Jaxx, a UK dance act. It was a tough decision, but I went with Basement Jaxx and I'm regretting it now. However, the regret is for strange reasons...

The CD is AWESOME!!! I can't get over how cool it is! I love it! But I hate it at the same time! It's terrible because the music is so catchy that I end up with one song stuck in my head for hours on end. It's incredibly frustrating! Mostly because, as much fun as it is to sing to ones self, one can never do the original justice, leaving you with that well-that-was-crap feeling.

Hats off to Basement Jaxx!

Slurry birthdays

It is a tradition within the animal behaviour research group at the University of the Witwatersrand that when it is someones birthday, we throw a party. The parties are usually surprise parties, with some being bigger surprises than others. The last one was hosted yesterday. And it was a big surprise...

It was a joint party for Brian and Sneha, two fellow MSc students. Both had had birthdays in the last month, and we hadn't managed to organise parties for either of them on time, so it was a combined belated birthday party. After about two weeks worth of organisation and coordination between Helen, Megan and I we finally picked a date and set things up. I'm not entirely sure who did the actual setting up because, I left to go and do observations on the chimps at the zoo and when I returned, my lab was the picture of festive fun.

Through this, I learned a very valuable lesson, appropriate for anyone who is planning to throw a party at any stage in the future. Silly string is a bitch to clean up. It gets everywhere and appears to chemically bind to linoleum floors and almost all types of paint.

I also learned that a dust-pan makes an excellent silly-sting scraper.

The party was not expected and so Brian and Sneha were greatly taken aback. To add to this, shortly after being thrust through the door into the lab, they each had a cup shoved into their hand filled with jello-shots.

For those who have an intact liver or are innocent, jelly-shots are just shot-glasses of jelly (that's Jello for you Americans out there) that has been mixed with vodka or some other alcoholic beverage. I've only ever had them once. Given that I am a vegetarian, I don't eat gelatin, the principal component of jelly, and so was spared having to take jelly-shots. The others all told me that they were very strong...

It can't have been as bad as Govan's birthday last year though. At that party, it was a rule that if you walked through the door, you had to drink a mandatory 'shot' of vodka. It was 09h00 and a 'shot' was what most would consider to be half a cup. My supervisor has a heavy hand and sick sense of humour.

Part of the wonder of yesterdays birthday celebrations was the random birthday crap that Helen managed to buy at a ridiculous price from china town. This included balloons like the one pictured below which were always humorous and sometimes, a little creepy...

All in all, a fun time was had by all and we undoubtedly look forward to the next one...which should be Megan. Oh what pleasures await...!

Another one bites the dust...

Tonight on the news, it was announced that Robert Mugabe, current self-appointed president of Zimbabwe, no longer has control of the country and that it has now fallen into the hands of the Generals and ex-militia that formerly supported him. Coupled with this, there have been reports of escalating violence in the country and the ruling Zanu PF group are claiming that it is a result of the opposition party, that majority of whom withdrew from the recent run-off election between them and Mugabe for fear of their lives, are mobilizing, training and arming themselves. The country is in the state of a 'minor civil war'.

Why am I suddenly delving into the realms of international politics? Because, I am ashamed to admit, now it affects me. It is a horrible thing when one realises that you are just as bad as all those people who just don't give a crap about Africa because it's not on their doorstep. Well, now it is on my doorstep and I am heartbroken.

I love Africa. I'm not entirely sure why I do (living here probably had something to do with it...), but it occupies a very special place in my heart. For example, I can't help but choke-up when I hear African choirs singing. It's bizarre, but true. And now to see another African country dissolving in the corrosive effects of corruption and loonies, I am truly sad. Not just for the people who may die, be raped, mutilated or forced into service against their will, but for what the whole situation says about Africa. It says, Africa is a place with no hope. If one of the most successful and rich countries on the continent crumbled as easily as Zimbabwe did, just because of one man with syphilis, what hope is there for the rest of them? It sounds horrible, but I am getting to a stage where I have lost all faith in current world leaders and really wouldn't mind if some sort of underground organisation were to simultaneously eliminate them all in one painful pull on the plaster hiding the worlds wounds. That or just have the human populous be eliminated by the most deadly virus the species has ever known...either way!

What really scares me is that I know that this is a dangerous place to be in. Revolutionaries and dictators rely on the fact that there are people like me around. The ones who need a new hero to lift them out of their ditch. Bearing this in mind, I shall persevere and pray for a better tomorrow, while knowing that tomorrow won't be better, just different.

Car-wrecker

Today I had my first-ever motor vehicle accident. Granted, I've had one other collision but it was with my dads parked car and my mother should not have let me reverse her car when I was 11 years old...

Back to the story at hand. I cannot describe to anyone just how crap the experience was. I should have known that my day was going to be really poo when I was awoken by my sister, 45 min after I was supposed to get up because I'd set my alarm for 6:15 PM instead of 6:15 AM. It set the tone for the day and after a VERY hastey breakfast (an apple while running around...), we departed on our ill-fated trip to university.

I remember little bits of this morning, but accidents have an amazing property, in that they wipe vast chunks out of your day. We left the house and had to stop off shortly after leaving to clean the ice off the windshield. It was a really cold morning today and so we had to create a wad of tissues to wipe with. A little further on our way I remember hearing the news being read on the radio and thinking to myself, 'Oh good. The news is on. That means we can't be too late.'

Part of our route to university takes us along a long straight road called, Cumberland St. It has many perpendicular ajoining roads along it, but usually only on the one side. It was along this road that it happened.

Suddenly my sister was yelling and the car infront of me was really close. I braked and started to swerve to try and miss it. It was too late. I hit the back of the BMW in front of me and it went up one of the ajoining roads. It seemed to gain speed as it went uphill and, ramping the pavement, took out a STOP sign, eventually coming to rest against a tree.

At this point I remember thinking, 'I'd better move my car so that it's not blocking the intersection.' which I did. I stopped the car just off the intersection and got out. I ran around my car to the other side where I was greeted in language that I shall not repeat here, by an irrate greek man. After much swearing I went to my car to collect something to write on to get his details, while doing so, I phoned home to let them know.

Luckily for me, my uncle Vic was at home and he guided me through all the details I needed and what to do. Within minutes a swarm of tow-truck drivers had arrived and began circling the carcass of the BMW. My car still looked like it had some life in it and so, was left alone for the most part.

Nobody was seriously injured nor was anyone killed. It was just not fun at all. I must point out the irony in the situation though. Just the other day I was chatting to a friend and I happened to mention that my other sister was leaving for the UK (She left on Thursday last week). I also mentioned that it was a bad thing for her siblings she left behind because the last time that she left, we both got into trouble (I arrived home drunk and so did my sister, one week later. The parents were most unimpressed...) and so now that she was leaving again, we were bound to get into trouble again. And, like clockwork...we did. Luckily that should be the last time that she leaves, so life should be smooth sailing from now on...

Hair wax and puppies

I'm currently house-sitting for my aunt and uncle who are on holiday. It is one of my favourite things in the world, house-sitting. I love the freedom that one has to eat when one feels, sleep when one feels, do whatever you want, watch whatever you want on TV; it's fantastic! Naturally, with all of this, comes the responsibilities of looking after the house. In this case, they include feeding and caring for a black Labrador puppy and a cat.

I have not had a puppy in a long time. We last got a puppy when I was still in high school, over 7 years ago, so I'm not all that familiar with puppy behaviour. I should have gathered some insight when I read my list of instructions from my uncle which included things like, '...and ensure that all chewable items are well out of reach of the dog!'. While I heeded the warning, I don't believe that I grasped the full extent to which this rule should be applied.

Along with the 'chewable items' rule, came one regarding the feeding of the dog. It's a process that requires confining the animal to the kitchen and feeding him, without allowing him to escape because, according to the instructions, he would run off with his food bowl. So I fed the dog as per the instructions and to my amazement, after wolfing down his meal, he grabbed his bowl in his mouth and ran to the door with it! I retrieved the bowl and examined it. I then understood why him running off with the bowl was a problem.

He had been chewing his own food bowl! But it isn't a plastic one! It's aluminium! So I conclude that the dog is insane.

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A while back, a good friend of mine was travelling in Italy and was given a free sample of some hair wax. He, never using the stuff or any other hair product really, gave it to me when I saw him next. I never use hair wax but decided I'd give it a try at some stage and placed it into a bathroom cupboard, never to be seen by human eyes again...

...until now...

So, while packing for my house-sitting stint, I found said hair wax. I decided that I would take it with me and give the stuff a try the next day. So, today I tried the stuff out.

I've used gel before, but hair wax was alien to me. I glanced at the package and noted that all the instructions on the side were in Italian, rendering any effort to come to terms with the use of this, futile. In truth, I probably could have read it but I was just feeling too lazy.

I figured that it can't be all that difficult to apply and that it probably behaved in much the same way that gel did, only a little more firm. So I took a little dollop, placed it into my hand and ran my hand through my hair. The result was what looked like a head-on (excuse the pun) collision with a candle. I had wax all around my fringe and nowhere else on my head.

While this was happening, the puppy was outside barking madly at the cat who ignored him as I imagine Marie Antoinette had ignored the revolting peasants outside he chateau during the revolution...

I decided, after a little contemplation, that hair wax was, indeed, retarded. It had to be washed out. So I grabbed the shampoo and washed my hair. After the rinse, I realised, to my horror, that it had done little to remove the wax, but, the action of washing my hair had spread the wax a little so that I didn't look quite as waxy. I did some fiddling and managed to get it all looking relatively decent.

I later learned that one should rub the wax in one's hands first and then, when it it warm, apply it. If only they had said that, in English, on the label...

Compliments and murder

Firstly, compliments. I never know how to take them. I always appreciate them, as does everyone (or maybe I'm not as weird as I think...?). I just cannot help but cringe every time I get one. I am always thrilled to receive them, but there is still a part of me that really wishes that I wouldn't receive them. As anyone who knows me can testify, if I am given a direct compliment, I tend to either go crimson (Helen can testify to this one...) or I try to leave the situation asap! I recently received, what I consider to be a compliment from my cousin, Duncan in a post dedicated to me and it made me realise just what a nutter I am with regard to compliments.

Bearing this in mind, I am still open for compliments by whomsoever wants to dish them out! Ego-boosts are always great!

Secondly, MURDER!!! For the last two and a half years, I have unwittingly been witness to one of the most longwinded, drawn-out murders of all time. It is not technically a murder, but that depends on your interpretation, I suppose...

There is a building that I walk past on a daily basis from my parking to the building that I work in. It is the campus canteen/shopping centre. Now, somehow, whenever I walk up past this building, I am unfortunate enough to experience the slaughter...of a trumpet.

There has been someone who, all this time, has been 'practicing' on their trumpet. And I put practicing in inverted commas because it implies some sort of improvement over time. And apparently nobody has had the heart to tell this person that:

1. What they are doing is cruel
2. Sometimes, things just don't work out, and you need to know when to quit (in this case, over 2 years ago!)

Here is a clip which I recorded on my phone today while walking up from parking. It's not great quality, but you can experience the full horror for yourself none the less...

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Bugger...

I can't figure out how to load the sound...Any ideas? It's well worth the listen, in a sort of watching-horror-movies-is-well-worth-scaring-yourself-shitless kinda way...

I have balls! Now all I need is a screw with a nut...

So the hunt for the balls for my devices continued on Tuesday. I arrived at Wits depressed and despondent as I had gone to practically every Asian wholesale retail outlet in the greater Johannesburg area, and returned completely empty handed. I followed my normal morning routine and checked my e-mail after having dumped my jacket and set up my laptop. While doing my e-mail check, I was greeted by Sneha, one of my fellow masters students. We got chatting about the weekend and her birthday, which had been on the Friday. I happened to mention to her that I still hadn't found the balls and that it was stressing me out.

She suggested that I try out a place called 'Discount Cash and Carry'. I was somewhat sceptical but felt that even the tiniest lead would be great compared to my situation at the time. So, after much searching for directions on the net, I left to find the store.

I got lost.

Following the detour, I managed to find my way and arrived at the store. It was really more of a warehouse than a store, but as I walked through its dodgy, fetid rotary gate, I was amazed to discover just how massive a store it was! They had tons of stuff of every kind! It was HUGE! After asking a few people for the toys section, I eventually found it. All four aisles of toys. This discovery was followed by much searching and finally, the discovery of the sports toys section.

I went up and down the aisle but didn't see the type of ball I was looking for. My heart sank. I decided to walk in the direction of the check out tills and, should I by some bizarre twist of fate find what I needed along the way, so be it.

So it been!

I walked past a cage filled with mini soccer balls. Now, my original plan for the device was to use mini soccer balls as they are quite tough and about the size I was thinking of. But these ones looked a little small so I was still not convinced. But I took one and after consulting the aisle attendant on just how big the balls could get, I went off to pay.

Once back at Wits, I pulled out one of the devices to look at how the balls size would compare to the hole of the device. The device already had a ball in it, but I tested it anyway.

In one of those moments that, had it been a made-for-TV-movie, would be characerized by celestial voices and a bright yellow back light, the ball didn't fit into the hole! It was perfect! I was so thrilled that I immediately dropped the ball, grabbed my car keys from my desk and hurtled off to ask Helen if she wanted to join me in my revelry and go buy the remaining 60 balls I needed.

The pair of us arrived at the store and minutes later, walked out with a very large bag of mini soccer balls. I can't speak for Helen, as it probably wasn't nearly as exciting for her, but it was the most amazing sense of relief as I dumped them into the car.

The rest of the day progressed in just the same serendipitous manner. I received a travel mug (it can be plugged into my car or my laptop to keep things warm!) and two bottles of blue creme soda (its so artificial tasting that nobody else will drink it. I LOVE it!)!

Now, the only remaining search I have to do is the one for the screw with a nut. My bicycle seat is held in place by a bolt and a nut, but both appear to have disappeared. So I need to find those and return my bike to its complete state...

MIA...and screwed

Howdy blog folk!

I've not blogged in some time now. It's been a little frustrating because I've really wanted to but of late my internet connection has been playing up. To be fair, it really was more the fault of my laptop, more than the internet connection...(Note to self: NEVER buy a celeron based computer ever again unless it is to be used in a capacity that is intended to hinder one's life...)

So, not really much to report. I've had a bit of a frustrating last few days. For the chimps that I work with, I am building a type of feeding device. I've mentioned them before and at the moment I'm having a whole lot built to put into the chimp enclosure at the zoo as part of my experiment. Now, part of this device requires that I place a number of durable balls into the device. The idea is that they obstruct the chimps and make it a little more time consuming to get the food that will be in the device.

Last year I built a few of these devices and I managed to find (what I figured was) as perfect a ball as I was going to find to put into the devices. The really cool thing about the balls, other than the fact that they were the right size and all, was that they were ridiculously cheap and availible freely from China Town. So I got the balls I needed for the devices for last year.

So this year, I return to the same stores in China Town (actually, it's called Asia City, to be precise) to find more balls for the new batch of devices I'm having built. To my horror, none of the stores stocked them anymore! Not only that, but they all seemed to think that I was insane and that there had never been such an item invented my a human mind, never mind being sold in their stores! So I freaked out a bit and spent much of time for the last few days trying in futile despiration to find the damn things!

So if anyone knows where I can buy 'Monster balls' at a relatively cheap cost, PLEASE contact me asap!!!! They look a little like tennis balls with a thyroid problem. They're just a bit smaller than a soccer ball but larger than a tennis ball, but still have the shape and pattern of a tennis ball.

Help!!!

PS. If you have not yet seen it, go see The Happening. It's tre cool!

Ironic title

For those who don't know me all that well, I am a huge fan of the TV series 'Lost'. I was introduced to the series by Helen, and I have never looked back. It's fantastic!

So, tonight was the finale of the series. And, I have to say that I was most impressed. Not only did they tie things up, but they left you feeling as if you had less understanding of what was actually going on than when you watched the first few episodes! It's great!

Now I know that most people would find this infuriating to watch, but for me it was perfect! I especially liked the cliff-hanger ending! Brilliant!

I also now realise the fantastic irony in the title of the series. It describes how one feels after watching it! Completely lost! Yay!

That's all...

Please Flush Urinal After Use!

Today, I went to one of the bathrooms in the building in which I work. As I walked into the room, I realised that something was different. Something had changed. My eager bladder overcame any thought processes and I moved quickly, to the urinals. It was then that I noticed what had changed. There was a large sign above the urinals that said, ‘Please Flush Urinal After Use!’

My initial reaction was to find this a little amusing. I do have a little toilet humour (pun intentional) in my head, so this wasn’t all that odd. But soon thereafter, I began to think to myself that it was not so funny that that sort of thing was necessary. I mean, it should come as second nature that one flushes once one has emptied! This sort of thing would never be needed in a woman’s loo!

This then got me thinking. Guys are not the most skilled, not considerate bathroom users. We have been blessed in so many ways! We can stand and pee at the same time! We don’t have to go through childbirth (Adam must have done something right, at the beginning, to get that one!), nor do we have to carry our developing offspring! It’s fantastic! We don’t have to worry about having periods! It’s fantastic! And yet, we often take it all for granted.

The sign shows just how little we appreciate it. I mean, flushing is SO simple and yet there are people out there that don’t! Horrors! Our inability to be courteous in the bathroom extends to many other areas. For example, guys, if you have really bad aim, please learn to aim! Practise if the years leading up to your current age have not been practice enough! If all else fails, and you are still battling to hit the target, please don’t leave evidence of your willy’s triumph over hygiene all over the toilet seat! Clean it up for crap’s sake!

At this point I imagine all female readers of this blog are sitting thinking smugly to themselves, ‘Finally! I guy who sees our side of the story!’ Women are not blameless in this regard! I’ve learned many a thing about the internal workings of the female body from the contents of a toilet bowl…considerably more than I’d like to know, let me tell you! And women, it’s really not all that hard, just lift the toilet seat UP when it’s down, instead of bitching about it!

In short, let’s all make an effort to make the bathroom experience a pleasant one! Happy bathroom’ing people!

Another Saturday, another Matric dance...

For those of my readers who are not South Africans, nor do they have or have had any contact with a South African there are some things that one must know about our culture. Apart from having words which have no other equivalent in any other language, one must understand that when one is in their final year of high school (termed 'matric'), one of the ways in which one is permitted to celebrate the finality of the year is through a matric dance. Basically the same as a prom, or a farewell dance for the final year, this is an event which all South African youths must enjoy/endure (depending on your stance) as a rite of passage into the final exams and eventually, the rest of your life. I am one of those that endured.

My cynical view of the event is purely to be blamed on women. For reasons which, after years of contemplation, are only beginning to become apparent to me (and of course through various explanations from the women in my life - thanks guys!) women tend to become possessed by 'the spirit of the matric dance'. This basically means that, much like most things female, logic gets tossed out of the window, along with a sense of rationality and they become hyper-sensitive, obsessive lunatics who place the event on a pedestal which would make the colossus look like a Lego man. They get themselves so hyped up about this evening and spend thousands (if they have any say in the matter) of their parents monies on clothes, hair and make-up, only to realise, halfway through the evening that they really can't dance in stilettos and that the pain from their feet is in fact very real. This is usually accompanied by much complaining to the partner...

So, being a person who cares about those who I surround myself with, I always feel that the event practically is designed to disappoint, of which I do not approve.

So, when I was invited to go to matric dance by someone from the zoo, I was not all that happy about the idea. The enormous age gap aside, I did agree to it, knowing that the person in question had been trying to find a date, but had failed to do so, for some time and was not very happy about the situation. And so, things went ahead and, as it happens, the dance itself was last night.

It has to have been one of the most eventful dances I've been to in a very long time. My date was pestered every two seconds by people screeching, 'Oh my God! You're in a dress!', as if they had expected her to arrive in scuba gear. She grew weary of this very quickly but the relentless classmates continued.

I also met Helen's cousin, who teaches at the school of my date. She also seemed to have heard of me long before I had even arrived (I assume through Helen or one of her parents) which was kind of freaky.

Then, there was the waitress who slipped on the floor next to me, fell, dislocated and fractured her knee and had to be taken away in an ambulance by paramedics. It was really terrible! The poor girl just lay on the floor, crying in agony and clutching her knee and there was nothing we could do! (It turned out that my date and half of her friends are first aid'ers so they all flocked to the scene, leaving the dates to stand around awkwardly).

There was also the usual matric dance cheek ache which is characteristic of having to be photographed by absolutely every human being you come into contact with during the course of the evening.

And finally, at one stage my date decided to take off her shoes because the pain was getting a bit much, and the whole thing would make dancing that much easier. As it turned out, this was not a good time for her to do so because she returned to the table moments later, having been stood on by some other girl in stilettos on the dancefloor and had a large sheet of skin removed from one of her toes. However, this didn't slow her down at all.

Overall, it was one of the best matric dances that I have ever attended, and I have attended a few (approx. 5). Which is why I have decided that I will end it all on a high note. No, suicide is not on the cards just yet, but I will no longer be attending matric dances. Also, the fact that I am old enough to be the teacher of the girls that are in matric at the moment, adds weight to this decision. So girls, I'm sorry to say, that I am retiring from the field of the matric dance. You will have to look elsewhere for partners, from now on...

Something you should NEVER do while washing someone's hair...

Today I went for a haircut. This was a bit odd for me. As a zoologist, one rarely really gives a crap about how one looks (within reason). So, also being a student, I have been resorting to the cheaper option for the last few years. I've been cutting my own hair with an electric shaver. It's been pretty functional, so I've not really had a problem. Thus, today's events were a change from the norm.

My sister came along with me to get her hair cut at the same time. On our way there, she and I were discussing what I should do with my hair. I wasn't particularly fussy about how it turned out, just as long as I don't have a mullet (Eeugh!). After mentioning this, my sister changed her tone to one of concern. She warned me that I had better make it explicitly clear to the hairdresser that I wasn't going to have a mullet as, she said, the hairdresser had a tendency to cut mullets with gay abandon.

Arriving at the hairdresser, I was already feeling a little silly, with images of people walking out of her shop with mullets, looking very miserable while she cheerfully waved them off on their merry way. My sister went through first to have her hair cut and while I waited to be called through to have my hair cut, I quickly sent my cousin a few messages, mostly nonsense, to pass the time. Then, I was summoned.

I went through to the basin to have my hair washed. There wasn't anyone there at the time so I just sat myself down. I sat and pondered how I would break it lightly to the hairdresser that I, being a man of conscience and decency, was not going to sport a mullet. How would one explain the sheer horror of the idea of walking around with long tassels hanging from the back of one's hea-

A strange noise interrupted my thought. It was sort of a combination of a grumble, grunt and a gurgle all in one. I couldn't place the sound and so brushed it off, figuratively speaking. Moments later, I felt a towel being placed on the back of my neck as the hair washer started to get me ready to wash. I sat forward, allowing her to tuck in the towel. She then leaned me back and started washing. I started to think about how some people enjoy getting their hair washed. Personally, I've never been one to really enjoy it. I don't know why but I just don't re-

There it was again! That strange sound! It seemed slightly more familiar this time. I could almost place it, so I decided to listen up in case it happened again. I thought about the possible causes for such an odd sound. It could be the drain, maybe not draining properly...

Then it happened again and this time I knew exactly what it was. I was horrified and repulsed to realise that it was the washer herself! She was snorting! While washing my hair, she was using the time to ensure that her nasal passages were entirely mucus-free! It was disgusting! To make things worse, given my already silly mood, my immediate response was to giggle! Luckily, I stiffled the giggles and managed to go through the haircut unaffected, apart from the psychological scars naturally.

Once all was done, I headed off with my sister into the very cold, very wet streets of Malverne. When we reached the car, I told her the terrible tale of my hair wash and she too said that the washer had done the same with her! It was really repulsive! So, let it be a warning to all in the public eye, especially hair washers! Don't SNORT while washing peoples hair!

The lighter side of xenophobia

As many people the world over now know, South Africa, once the 'rainbow nation', a haven of tolerance and acceptance, is in the throws of a spate of 'xenophobic' attacks. How much the attacks have to do with actual xenophobia and how much is simply displaced rage at the government for failing to provide the necessary poverty alleviation and housing that they promised, I do not know. It has been really terrible to watch how a small band of disgruntled citizens have completely destroyed the countries image and caused untold suffering to the people that they are attacking.

While all of this has been happening, something that has fallen to the wayside is the reactions of the rest of the population to the violence. Naturally, good people don't make for good news, unless they slip up and get caught doing something bad. But it has really been amazing to see just how the country has opened it's arms to those affected by the violence and has taken them in.

Over the airwaves, there have been public declarations of disgust over the behaviour of the individuals perpetrating this violence, and unusually, there have been no misguided politicians saying that they agree with the xenophobes! (This sort of idiotic thing does tend to happen with South African politics...). It's been refreshing to see that the vast majority of the country actually have their heads screwed on the right way and have shown that they will not tolerate this behaviour!

As well as simple lip service, there have been countless charities and volunteers that have given of their time and money to help the displaced. There are shelters being set up everywhere, for affected peoples to stay, out of harms way. People are volunteering at police stations to help feed and clothe people, as well as help look after children. It has been truely amazing to see that we are not a bunch of ignorant thugs who can't think for ourselves, but are in fact a caring nation who love who we are and are not willing to allow the actions of few to ruin it for the rest of us! Well done South Africa, your actions have made me proud to be a South African and to share this beautiful, amazing place with you, in love.

Crisis? I laugh in the face of crisis!

So, for those who don't know me in person, the last week has been a little harrowing. I've had another setback at the zoo. This really got me mad because I've been trying to work on my masters project now for about a year and a half but I've had to restart the whole thing about 4 times because the zoo kept screwing things up. So, when I found out that there was another problem this week, I nearly lost it completely.

I'd tried to contact the primate curator at the zoo during the week, but had not managed to get a fixed time and date that I could talk to her about the problems that I had. So, on Friday I told her that I would be coming to see her on Saturday and that she must just give me a time that she would be free. So, today, after finishing with my volunteers and locking my car keys into the trunk of my car (another story entirely!), I went to go and meet with her.

Now, it is important to understand that I am not a confrontational person. I am a pacifist to the core, so any form of confrontation freaks me out completely! Thus, this morning, before the meeting, I was incredibly nervous! The situation wasn't made any easier by the fact that I am good friends with the curator as well, so there was the added element of not wanting to start a fight with a friend.

Eventually, I met up with her and we had our meeting. It went fantastically! She agreed to all the conditions that I proposed and then agreed to allow me to draw up and implement my very own enrichment design schedule with the chimps for during the course of my experiment! That last bit totally came out of left field and was particularly amazing because it was something that I had been wanting to do there myself for a very long time!

So now I have not only solved an existing problem that I had, but I've also managed to organise things so that now I have the power to give the animals enrichment as I feel fit, which is perfect for my project! I'm so thrilled!

Riots, mob mentality and rage

I'm sure many of you may have seen things on the news about the current violence in South Africa. It started in the same region that I live in and it has affected me deeply! Having lived here all my life, I always assumed that somehow, South Africa was different to the other African states. We were a nation of enlightened people, who, through the struggles of appartheid, learned the value of human life and the necessity to treat all as equals. However, the behaviour that we are seeing at the moment in this country leads one to believe otherwise.

It is really terrible. Just last night on the news, I saw footage of gangs of men moving from house to house, sending in one man at each house. My dad then explained that that was how they recruited people. The guy goes in and says, either you join us or you die. I was horrified because I knew that that was often done in countries that are in civil war and it suddenly hit me that we were no different to those countries! We were being just as savage as people during the wars in Rwanda, the Congo....

It has really changed the way that I think about South Africa as a whole, and more importantly, it's people. I'm deeply saddened and disappointed. And at the same time, enraged that people can forget what we, as a nation, stand for! The one nation in the world that has truely undergone a radical transformation from a racist, cruel government to democracy! We were the rainbow nation!

This is why I am joining a protest march on Saturday morning in Braamfontein. It will be starting at 09h00 on Saturday the 24th at Marks Park, near Hillbrow, on Empire road. Please, if you are available, come and join the march! This action should not be allowed and will not be tollerated by South Africans! Join us and show that you too care about the country we live in! Bring placards and signs! No weapons! It'll be my first ever protest march!

Need brownie points? Take grandma to the zoo!

On Friday I took my two grandmothers to the zoo. It was something that they had asked me to do a while ago but, as life tends to do, things snowballed and I just didn't have the time to do it. Until Friday that is...

So, after going in to Wits and having a brief social gathering with all of the other behaviour students and my supervisor, I headed off to fetch the aging matriarchs and head off to the zoo. We arrived and headed off into the zoo. Neither of my grannies are particularly fit, given their 70+ year status, so I went off to organise a zoo buggy for us to travel around in.

Zoo buggies are highly over-priced, electrically powered golf carts that the zoo hires out to the aged, the infirm and the down-right lazy. They are really great fun to drive around, but at R70/hour, should be avoided unless one has recently come into a considerable inheritance and lacks the foresight to invest. In hindsight, I suppose that it's not all that expensive for a non-student who is not spending part of every day at the zoo...

Once I'd acquired my zoo buggy (buggy number 9 in fact!), I shot off down the hill to meet my grandmothers, waiting for me on a bench by a pair of central African monkeys. Once I reached them, and we were all on the cart, we began our tour of the zoo. First up, the chimps!

We went up onto the chimp platform and watched them for a while. Both grandmothers were very happy to see the chimps and fired a barrage of questions at me about them, my project and chimpanzees as a species.

I'd like to take this point to inject a little fact that I recently became aware of and which I find very exciting! Apparently, the mapping of the chimp genome has been redone and, contrary to our original estimations of genetic similarity between our species and them, originally thought to be up to 96% in common between the two, the percentage overlap in genetic material has been re-evaluated. It now appears that we share 99.6% of our DNA!

While up on the chimp platform, my one grandmother noticed the orang-utan in the enclosure opposite and insisted that we go and have a look. We headed back to our faithful buggy. It was then that my one gran pointed out the fact that the buggy was a left-hand drive! Which is not the norm for South Africa. None the less, we headed off to the Orang's.

The rest of the day was spent going all over the zoo, seeing the orang-utans, the meerkats, seals, ring-tail lemurs, elephants, sitatungas, snow leopard, yellow, hamadryas and chacma baboons, mandrills, lions and finally the tigers. It was the last exhibit which really made my grandmother's day. The zoo has plenty more animals and I would have loved to take them to see them all, but exhaustion sets in quickly in the aged...

The tiger exhibit had not been altered in any way since the 1970's and was in dire need of being rethought. So, the zoo built them a new one and converted the old one into baboon enclosures. Now, the new tiger enclosure has only recently been completed and neither of my grandmothers had ever seen it. It's a fantastic enclosure, built with a swimming area, loads of grassy hillside for them to romp around on and plenty of trees to climb. But, one of the best features of the enclosure, from the point of view of the public is that the enclosure has three viewing windows, from which the public can view the tigers from approximately 15cm away.

Another amazing feature is the 'Loo with a view'. It's a public bathroom that is built into the side of the enclosure, from which people can view the tigers, as they do their business. The viewing window is not visible to any people however!

So, as we arrived at the enclosure, my one grandmother went off into the bathroom, while I, and the other gran, waited outside, looking into the enclosure. It was just then that one of the bigger tigers in the enclosure decided to visit the window. It performed beautifully! I couldn't have asked for a better moment!

My gran was so amazed by the experience! She'd never been so close to a big cat and had never realised just how big, powerful and beautiful they were up close. It really made her day! Meanwhile, the other one was inside the bathroom and she too saw the tiger at the window and marvelled.

It was so amazing for me to see how special such a moment could be to them! Working in the zoo almost every day, I think that I often fail to remember that not everyone gets to have the experiences that I am afforded. For me, seeing that tiger so close, while definitley one of the more memorable moments at the zoo, was not nearly as amazing as it had been for my grans! I think it goes to show that it's important that we remember just how lucky we are, in all aspects of life and appreciate every blessing we are given.

The green card tastes like chocolate!

Yesterday, as the day was drawing to a close, I was sitting in my lab, trying to look productive in the hopes that, should anyone who actually gave a crap walk in, I might seem to be terribly efficient and hard at work. In truth, my brain had seized up like a poorly lubricated motor and wasn't planning on doing anything vaguely constructive any time soon.

While staring at my computer, contemplating whether it was actually okay to scoot off, seeing as I had nothing left that I could do, I heard a sound coming from the lab opposite mine. This lab is occupied by two of the most fantastic people I know: Sneha, by far the most kind-hearted, gentle soul I have ever met, and Megan, a genius in her own right and about as nutty as a jar of Skippy's.

On this particular evening, it was Megan who was in the lab. She has been working like an absolute slave lately, lecturing at our university to medical students and, at the same time, lecturing at another university entirely, on the other side of town. She was busy packing herself up and getting ready to head off home. I walked in to say hi, and we got chatting.

After a brief discourse over what examples she had used to illustrate some of her points to the medical students (most of which would be considered by most to be wildly inappropriate, such as phantom limb patients experiencing orgasms in both their genitalia and in their phantom limbs!), the conversation somehow ended up on synesthesia.

Now, for those who are normal, and have not memorised some of the more obscure psychological and neurological conditions which exist, synesthesia is a bizarre situation where people have linked senses. For example, in an individual that experiences this, sight and taste may be linked. In such a case, the individual in question will experience a taste when they see a particular colour, as real to them as it is to you when you taste something.

It is thought that the condition arises at a stage of brain development where the brain's neurons grow out and create new pathways. At a later stage, the brain begins to 'prune' some of these connections, severing those that are not needed or and not supposed to be there. The idea with synesthetics is that their brains have failed to sever all of the connections between the sensory centers, leaving links between senses that normally, are not linked.

The point of this diatribe is that during this discussion, I began to realise just how difficult life for a synesthetic must be. Imagine experiencing smells every time that you see something, over and above the already present smells in the air! And the smells wouldn't necessarily be pleasant! Imagine, for example, that every time you saw the colour blue, you tasted bile! And imagine how difficult it must be to try to describe to someone, what an amazing place the world must be when everything you see comes with it's own musical soundtrack that your brain generates and plays to you, as if it were really there. It must be a truely amazing and beautiful curse...