There are also some rather annoying things which come along with being at this incredible height of"Trendiness". For one thing the monstrous volume of phone calls 1 was receivingfrom adoringfemalefans becamea bit much and 1 wasforced into theinconvenienceofchanging the number. Another thing for those who think it's easy being a"Su per-Stud" is that 1 have to be accompanied by eight large body-guards wherever1go(1 wouldn't wantto be attacked by some sex-starved female rapist, you know.)Lastly,and by far the most dangerous part one plays as a "Modem Day Casanova"is the loss offriends.In the lastthree years I've lost four friends to suicide. Knowing only too well thatthey could never reach my social status they took their own lives, throwing themselves from a ten storey build ing. So, you see my friends, being trendy is not all fun and games.AsIsaid earlier,many people end up like lostsheep in the world offashion. Buttake itfrom me — it's better to lead than to get lost- because every lost sheep is like a lamb to the slaughter. JOHNHUNTER,Form 3 THECOLOURSOFAFRICA:WHENTHEMASTER BECOMESTHESLAVE Before me I see two faces They bear a remarkable like ness. Both have black hair, brown eyes,a pair ofears and a nose.In fact,the only real difference between the two is that the one is pale, and the other is dark. Small as this difference may seem,it has made a world ofdifference to many lives throughout Africa. In the onefaceI see conceit.An over-confident gleam can be seen in the eyes, brought on by years of unquestioned mastery over others.The expression on the face shows no signsofremorse ofpastdeedscommitted,yet neither does it show any signs of maltreatment.All thatshows is a sign of wealth and power that is not rightfully his. This is be cause this person was brought up in a sheltered environ ment with people to cater for his every need, unquestioningly. This person has never known what it is like to be perse cuted to such an extentas to restrict where,and even some times when you live. He has always had a full stomach and has never needed to worry about where his next meal wascomingfrom.He has never seen the evils ofthe world even though he is the cause of some of them. His white skin is all he requires to live this life ofluxury. In the otherfaceIsee weariness.This monotonouslook of submission has been brought on by a life of misery and prostration. All his life he has had to fight for what little belongs to him,if he was permitted to. For as long as he can remember he has had to carry out the orders of the white man unquestioningly.Often he has done this for the safety of his life,let alone pay. Never has he known even partialfreedom,never mind independence.The only signs ofindividuality in his entireface lies in his eyes.Here lies at least a glimmer of hope of some sort. No one knows exactly whatthis glimmer ofhope is,as it is his innermost secret, his only secret.The reason for his life of suffering is that he has committed an indefensible crime: that of being black. The history ofthe peoplesofAfricaisoneofconstantstrife. In places this strife has broken outinto a physical struggle. In all the countries the African peoples have gained free dom,save one.Thiscountry is South Africa.Herethe white suppressors remain in power.However,even here the hur ricanes ofchange have come and the black people are on the verge offreedom. Despite this coming freedom,1 do not think equality will be achieved as I believe so long as there is a difference in colour,1 am certain there will be a difference in status. DOUGLASCOMRLE,Form 3 COLEFORD2:THE NIGHTMARE CONTINUES The bus ground to a halt outside a resort that resembled a small village. The dust churned up by the bus slowly be gan to descend on to the dry road. The sun beat relent lessly down as weassembled on the grass to see how much we would have to suffer in the next four days. The night approached and after supper we enjoyed a long, chilly walk through the veld to our luxury sleeping place, an old hay barn. We arrived there without too much trou ble and set about the enlightening task of building fires accompanied by the reassuring words ofMr King,"Watch out for puff-adders when you go to sleep. It's quite likely that there are a few around here." All of us stared at him, astounded by his positive thoughts brought on by the fact that he was going to be sleeping in the mini-bus,safefrom all the horrors of the night. Morning broke and as the fiery orange glow of the sun slowly rose into the sky,the three hours'sleep 1 had man aged to getfilled me with hope and inspiration for the tasks of the new day. Our hopes of fun and enjoyment were dashed on the icy rocks and water of the river. We had to swim600m in ourteams ofseven aided only by a mere six inflatable tubes and a25 litre drum filled with water.Amid screams of pain and agony we battled our way along our course oftorment.When wefinally reached the finish line and clambered out ofthe icy water,we were dealta death blow when we were given a five minute penalty and our hopes ofvictory disappeared asfeeling returned to ourfro zen bodies.The rest ofthe day was a blur of mind-numb ing activities,includind debating. The night brought new hopes ofimprovement with the re alization that it couldn't get worse. But as it always hap pens,it did.Therain pounded on the roofand on the ground and we bundled our weary bodies on to the bus.After wait ing for an hour for our ever punctual teachers and busdriver, we set out for our dream destination, a dairy farm and sleeping quarters fit for a horse and cows. With the smell of horse dung heavy in our noses, and squelching mud between ourtoes,we settled downfor a nightofpeace ful slumber. "Wake up! Wake up!" the farmer's voice disrupted our dreams of peace and tranquillity and shocked our weary limbsinto mechanical motion.The digits on my watch read clearly 4:30 and the crisp air blurred my vision. My heart leaptforjoy as we neared the highlight ofour trip, watch ing the cows being milked.After marvelling atthe exploits ofseveral ofthe cows we enjoyed a refreshing cold cup of coffee in the farmer's house. We then returned to the bus, which despite being a famed German make, namely a 54
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