TruthAboutLies101

This blog had some very interesting posts, someone starting out at university for the first time. It was very reminiscent of the past year and many of the posts on our blog. We are clearly not the only ones going through this!!

Journalism is a broad term. It encapsulates so many forms and differing aspects that it cannot completely be placed in a box and given a definition. Unsurprisingly this is not something they tell you in High School. No, they let you believe that being a journalist means either writing for the Herald or being a war correspondent for the BBC. Ignorance, I have learned, is nowhere near bliss. As a naïve and overly complacent first year, I had a long way to go before being able to appreciate the impossibility of finding a true meaning to the word. To say that I broadened my mind through doing each course over the year would be a horrific understatement. This is why during this last term I was not particularly shocked when I was introduced to this modern form of journalism: Blogging.
Saying this I can remember my shock on hearing the name of the course. To my mildly embarrassing but completely justifiable astonishment, I was not all that familiar with this specific genre of news production. Actually, I should rephrase that. I knew almost nothing about the genre except small details I had heard from other people about it being something like having an online diary. Not exactly a whizkid, I was rather peeved at knowing that I would have to work twice as hard merely to gain some kind of understanding. Suffice it to say, I was ridiculously relieved when I realized that we would be working in groups. This meant delegation, and delegation meant less of having to crack my brain to accomplish the technological mission. The feeling I had when I finished my first post is still fresh in my mind. The letter to my younger self. I recall thinking how some poor, misunderstood soul might have been given false hope about being able to change the past through writing these letters. Was the exercise honestly accomplishing anything? What exactly was I gaining from it? Then it occurred to me that I had just written a piece based solely on emotion, personality and individuality. I had been given a platform to express myself beyond the confines of traditional news writing and as is typical of “The Life of Me” kind of stories, the world became my muse. My writing was now an outlet, not simply an assignment.
This however, did not mean that I would begin campaigning for animal rights and saving the whales because I had to stay within the characteristics of the group blog. Saving the world one reader at a time was not completely lost nonetheless, as dispelling myths and revealing the truth behind the lies we have grown up to believe can be just as effective as freedom speeches. Who doesn’t like bursting unrealistic bubbles? My group was very good about this particular aspect of the course, and it made it easier to write knowing that each member shared at least some of my enthusiastic pessimism. Consequently group meetings did not end in catfights about whose design was better looking. The creative juices will always flow when one person says something and the rest respond, “ja ja ja, that’s great. Let’s do that.” Support is always crucial. When people say they don’t need compliments form other people to boost their self esteem, they’re lying. It obviously helps to make the members of your group feel like their contributions are not only welcome, but actually purposeful. Even though you saw the reactions of the other members when the suggestion was made and were trying frantically to come up with something new before they all said, “ja ja ja, that’s great. Let’s do that.”
Having to work together on the blog was not really a problem. The problem was in having to integrate the assignments set out by the lecturers into the character of our blog. Being in First Year seemed to be a favourite theme in the topics, and to be frank became rather monotonous. Yes, let’s communicate with the rest of the world on issues that affect society, let’s stop being narrow minded in our opinions, but let’s also make sure it’s all about first year at university. Does anyone else see the irony in that? It’s because of this very fact that our ideas for various stories were rather limited in scope and imagination. As a result, we had a very restricted audience which to appeal to. That was another thing; the audience. Actual people who were not lecturers or tutors were reading what I was writing. This should have in fact left me paralysed and almost comatose but strangely enough it only excited me further. This idea made reporting or the writing process far more interesting because although there was still consideration of the genre, blogging remained an open platform of expression.
Finding the first years to interview and profile was not actually difficult. It was finding the right first years to interview and profile that was challenging. Who was interesting? Why were they interesting? Do they have more to say than “It’s chilled?” Observation became an essential aspect of the blogging experience. Acquiring the detail meant being able to spot the difference in everything. Some people however do not appreciate having the spotlight shining on their difference. One young man had a serious problem with my wanting to write a piece on his homophobic tendencies. According to him, he did not need to be made an example of in such a public manner. I eventually agreed with him after putting aside my own desires of creating an award winning masterpiece on such a controversial subject. Objectivity is very difficult when you have made yourself the subject.
Did I grow from the course? Well, the fact that I can even just ask that question tells me that I have. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would place myself at a 7. Whatever doubts I may have had about giving the public a chance to read or hear what I had to say, simply vanished with that first post. I don’t intend to be the Loise Lane that stole superman’s outfit and added a notebook and pen to the ensemble, but there is so much more to journalism that I cannot wait to explore and I believe that blogging gave me somewhat of the perfect push start.

In the blog planning process, the most important thing that had to be considered was the genre that would carry us through the whole term. The blog had to be a genre that we all agreed upon. The type of genre we could all relate to, in order for us to write articles about. Deciding didn’t take long at all, being a group of four charismatic and (secretly) cheeky girls our blog would suit all our personalities combined. I must admit that even I had to take a step out if the box. Starting with our catch phrase “We’re not feminists, just anti-idiots, hypocrites and idealists” we revealed our slightly tongue-in-cheek attitude. Sitting in the basement of the library, four seemingly shy and reserved girls with a blog so dense in attitude we discussed how to proceed.

First term Journalism was quite a shock to the system. In the first week of term as Rod Amner briefly went through all the assignments due I was having ‘miniature heart palpitations’. In an extreme panic I become an RUConnected junkie, I was as dedicated as a coke addict in rehab. Strangely enough, as I sit today in room 34 John Kotze and reflect, I find many similarities between this term and the first; not only in course content but in the way the lectures are executed. It led me to wonder if there was a manual for lecturers that gave step by step instructions to handling first years: Shock the first years in the beginning, all their assignments require them to dig deep into their souls and wrench out the darkest memories and emotions and so it would continue... If you haven’t had some heart-wrenching history your story doesn’t make the cut although every Journalism lecturer begins with the line “Everyone has a story”. Something I realised in the late stages of the year was that the ‘best’ are usually the ‘bad’. By bad I mean out of the box, shocking, emotional and controversial. This is reminiscent of the Oscars, rarely do the ‘soft and sweet’ movies win, it’s generally those whereby the character had to make some dramatic transformation, gain weight, look dreadfully unappealing and play a psychotic murdering lunatic. I do understand however that this sort of genre is appealing to the relevant audience, it’s the “Oh my God she dared to say that” factor that gets people talking. The reason I mention this is because it’s one of the difficulties I’ve encountered this term, thinking “What’s the most emotionally riveting story in my life that I could tell” but what I realised too is a quote that popped up on the overhead in a lecture, “There are no dull stories, only dull writers”. This resonated with me as it posed a slight challenge to my writing skills.

Our blogging genre seemed like the perfect forum to express ourselves fully, the problem was although the chosen genre was a group discussion, even for me it was really ‘out-there’, displaying extreme confidence in every aspect from the letter to the comic strip. It was an exhilarating feeling though, speaking out, becoming adventurous and knowing the responsibility of being held accountable through the comments which were made in response to the posts – my hand in the ‘cookie jar”. The group work was highly beneficial, we were able to gather ideas quickly and bounce off each others’ train of thought’. Working in a group here at University is fairly difficult as you’re not all doing the same subject at the same time so it becomes harder to get together. This is something you learn to adjust to and the way you really learn about time-management. We did however hit a creativity block with the comic strip; the genre was to be satirical and tongue-in-cheek. We debated around certain ideas that could have been extremely controversial such as suicide, perhaps not appropriate to mock suicide when it’s such as serious matter. Although, then you get cartoonists like Zapiro who continuously mock serious issues to make a point, then again we are just students. This also however leads on the genre of blogging as a whole as well as citizen journalism and new media. Everyone can blog, by the virtue of that fact everyone can make a controversial comic, professional or not. We openly discussed this in out tutorials, despite the fact that our tutor had initially divided us up into smaller groups to discuss whether or not blogging is journalism it turned into a class debate with opening and closing speeches (a bit dramatic) but undeniably fun. I knew I was going to love blogging from the moment I logged onto RUConnected during the September holidays and saw some of the readings already waiting for us. I still love blogging and will continue with it as I want to specialise in New Media.

Blogging in JMS I felt was highly beneficial not only to those hoping to specialize in it but for all students in general. Computer literacy has become of extreme importance and blogging in particular is a way to get your news to the world. Interacting with a global audience as the world becomes more intertwined is the way forward. As a result of the audience being so wide and not just for your tutors’ eyes it made me pay that extra special attention to detail. Subconsciously you wanted everything to be perfect. Dealing with sources as well was a challenge as you would have to explain firstly that all the information was going to be placed for the viewing of practically anybody. This could have in some way constrained the interviewee from giving too much information in fear of judgement or criticism. Despite the fact that blogs are easily accessible for anyone to partake in, it should in my opinion be considered Journalism. Within blogging, you’re engaging with people all over the world, therefore you should provide them with factual information, even if it’s an opinion piece the facts in the article should be based on a real event. However there are those who make comments without knowing the full background, this can be dangerous but then again some could argue that the point of blogging is to get more individuals involved in global affairs, this includes amateurs. I most definitely stepped out of my shell for the process of blogging and to reciprocate the idea of our blog genre. As journalists you write for the people, therefore to target them the stories must be appealing to their needs and desires. People like shock and drama but obviously at the same time stories must be credible, authentic and real.

Lotsa Love
Khatija

While reading this blog post I was struck by how many similarities I found with my own family and their reactions to me coming to Rhodes. However, instead of being given that annoyingly smug "knowing look" that you wrote about, I was given encouragement. Although Rhodes is well-known for its notorious parties, excessive drinking and barefoot souls at lectures, it is better known for its high standard and quality of education. It is true that everyone back home was terrified that I would turn into a weed-smoking, green-haired girl who was suddenly a completely different person. When my family saw me at the airport at the end of the first term, I could almost see them breathe a collective sigh of relief. I dressed the same (maybe a little scruffier), valued the same things and had most of the same views that I left home with. What was different, though, was my newfound independence and irritation with being told what to do by my parents, who, after running my life for eighteen years, cannot seem to shake the habit of instructing me now and then. They forget, of course, that I now do my own laundry and for this reason alone, consider myself an adult capable of making decisions without asking their permission. I definitely agree with your statement that Rhodes introduces a student to several different religions and cultures, among other things. I believe that Rhodes has one of the most diverse student bodies and think that belonging to Rhodes makes a person so much more open-minded and accepting to people different to themselves. My opinions and beliefs have changed since coming to Rhodes, and I agree that these, too, have been changes for the better. What I liked most about this post is the basic opinion that living in a comfort-zone is not possible at Rhodes: whether you want to or not, you are going to be exposed to different aspects of life. This is an extremely insightful, evocative post.

Diva from TruthAboutLies

Tales from a Rhodent: Academic Freedom? Comment on an Opinion Piece

This is one of those subjects you think about whilst writing that Politics essay due on Friday. “We’re teaching you to be creative, open-minded intellectual and critical thinking students of the 21st Century” is what they (the lecturers) tell you. Those who’ve dared to try it have either failed dismally or become an inspiration to us all. I can tell that you’ve obviously had experiences whereby you find out that writing your own opinion really would be detrimental to your mark.
There are however some lecturers who mean what they say and are teaching you to be critical thinkers and develop your own arguments on the other hand, there are those who would no doubt give you 48.5%. I know of a guy who in my opinion is a living legend. He was given the topic “What is courage?” the essay was out of 100 marks, after an hour of he handed his essay in. The page was blank except for one line at the top of the page which read “This is courage”. He walked away with 100%.

We attend lectures, and talks which tell us about and promote academic freedom but does this concept really exist? Is it not just something unique to freedom fighters to get us (the students) where we are today. Although it is also worth mentioning that the academic freedom we speak of and that which they fought for long ago is fairly different in that whereas they fought for rights to be accepted into academic institutions we want to secure our place and be able to express our true opinions. Really thought provoking piece!
Lotsa Love

Friendship. Supposedly a simple equation. People meet, find out they have things in common, decide to spend unlimited amounts of time together and there you have it, friends forever. Well, perhaps in Neverland, but in reality friendship is as fleeting a commodity as fuel in Zimbabwe. When one puts everything in perspective, there are too many obstacles within this equation that need to be overcome for it to be this simple. This is why when the nature of females is juxtaposed to the nature of males, the men are more likely to be able to move past these obstructions and form long lasting friendships.

It is perfectly justifiable really. Females, to be blatantly honest are too demanding. To elucidate: females are selfish, self-conscious, vain, imposing, envious and bitter. In other words, they know how to hold a grudge. First year is unfortunately full of many surprises, particularly for those who come to university with big hopes and big dreams which tend to be crushed within the first few lectures. It becomes clear that in fact just because someone smiles at you doesn’t mean they like you and your perky attitude to life is not refreshing, it’s just annoying. Another factor is ‘rez’ life. Your residence is not a home away form home, but rather the place where you sleep and keep your clothes. Females are always on guard in such cases, waiting to confront anyone who appears to be stepping in on their territory or displaying a similar fashion sense. So because I saw you, a person I don’t know, speaking to someone I know very well, you are now the enemy but also because you made no ridiculous effort to be part of my little exclusive group of friends, you have been black listed. To put it plainly, females never truly leave high school.

The male on the other hand is conveniently a less complicated species. As a man, or ‘guy’, if you happen to meet someone who shares your passion for soccer, you’re all set. His ‘feelings’ are not a concern of yours because you are trying by all means not to look gay. Your residence is not a war zone; on the contrary it is a fraternity, a brotherhood. The camaraderie found between males is unbreakable and so if your friend makes a move on your girlfriend, you do not plot his destruction through a series of evil eyes in front of his classmates. No. You merely punch him in the jaw, use a couple of profanities and then you move on. Not only do you remain friends with this person but you then go and dump your girlfriend for causing such a rift between you in the first place. First year males generally have a better chance of maintaining these friendships because there is no risk of waking up in the middle of the night with half your hair dyed green and your clothes ripped to pieces because you just happened to sit on the wrong table at lunch!

I know. This theory stems from a string of stereotypes and so cannot obviously apply to everyone in first year or in university. However, one should probably take into consideration that a stereotype does not actually create itself and therefore logically speaking, has an element of truth in it. Granted there are exceptions, that is where we find the unwavering “best friends forever” sharing a pizza in the common room in their final years; but as life shows us more often than not, ‘forever’ is only just a couple of months.

It was an incident in a first term Linguistics tutorial that got me up in arms. As all first years do through the entire first term, another first year and I were getting to know each other. I was so pleased to be making a new friend, not that I’d remember her name (it was the first week, where you’re hearing about 20 names a day). However, she was in my tutorial so I’d get to know her eventually. She gently shifted over towards me and kindly asked “What’s your name?” so I replied amicably “Khatija, yours?” well now quite honestly now I wouldn’t be able to pick her out from a bar of soap let alone remember her name as it was so long ago and I also changed tutorials the second week because it clashed with my newly picked up subject, Drama. A few seconds later, looking rather puzzled she shifted over again saying, “What’s your real name?”

To this day, the 4th of October 2008 I still remind myself now and then of her question, what exactly did she mean by this? Was she suggesting that I had made my name up, that this symbol that I had identified myself by for 19 years 1 month and 3 days was some sort of farce. I suppose at this point I should mention that I am a black woman, Zulu in culture and Muslim in religion (and the fact that you can be both) hence the name Khatija. I understand however that not many know the origins of names, neither do I, this was not the problem, what got me fired up was that she expected me to say an African name in order for the name to fit her idea of what qualifies as ‘real-name’ characteristics. Had I told her my African names, Nomathamsanqa and Ntableng she would have been satisfied so I left it at “that is my real name” together with a look of anger, confusion and all moulded in my oval shaped face stemming from the routes of my African and Islamic heritage.

This was the first act of ignorance, many more were to follow. This leads me to the point I want to raise. The main difference I’ve noticed between being at school and university – the ignorance. I can’t say I have a reason or possible theory as to why this is so. Unfortunately though, as I am black myself, it is sad to say that the ignorance is more prevalent amongst black people than white. White people never ask any questions, perhaps it’s because they don’t see me as trying to be a coconut. You see, my hypothesis is that people are so interested in my name because they think I’m trying to be ‘white’ by using Khatija since I do have two other African names. I am Muslim that is what I believe in and what I identify myself as. I didn’t suddenly change, I was born Muslim.

You’ll notice people gazing into the distance, taking the time to think as to how they will approach their next question. Those who make an attempt at being subtle usually start with “Not to be rude but...” or “I hope you don’t mind me asking why...” some people even have the guts to dumb themselves down and say “Does that mean your parents are Indian?” Now I don’t at all claim to be the most well-informed person in the world but...Seriously!

Just some fun facts: there happen to be around five million Muslims in Africa, approximately one million in South Africa; in fact it’s the largest religion in Africa, followed by Christianity. Basically, coming to university is a new experience, we all know that. It makes sense then that people should arrive open-minded, I’m not saying know that Khatija is an Arabic name or that there’re 5 million Muslims in Africa but don’t make stupid comments that make you look like you’ve lived in Mars, isolated from all, ever since you were born.

Blog Action Day: “The truth behind the lies”.
Khatija Nxedlana

We, the students of Rhodes University, walk to town at least four times a week between a Politics or Journalism lecture. We’re in such a rush to fill up on sugar or get some last minute accessories for an assignment. We’re so focussed on our own lives that we’re deaf to the sound of a beggar’s plea “Sisi...” They’re the young and old who spend their days wandering the streets in search of something, in search of someone. Someone to give them money, foodthe basics to survive or just a helping hand. In Grahamstown this is just a miniscule representation of the poverty that exists in South Africa, the greater Africa and around the world. We speak emotionally about poverty all the time, comment enthusiastically on what can be done, learn about it in almost all subject, but outside the 400-seater room do we really care? What do we do?

Only in recent decades are states, governments and people realising the importance of taking care of issues other than state security. They’re focussing on those that are taking precedence in societies today. These issues include, helping developing countries decrease their debt, giving aid to countries under-going civil wars, providing relief in the form of food, shelter and funding as well as humanitarian intervention. Global humanitarian organisations such as the U.N. (United Nations) have mushroomed, changing their agenda to accommodate more pressing issues. With obvious pressure from civil society including member states of the U.N. they are increasingly dealing with environmental problems and focussing on the individuals within states and not just the traditional nation state. Poverty is of course one of the leading epidemics on the agendas worldwide; it’s a continuous problem that, quite honestly, doesn’t look as if it’s on the way out. The awareness around poverty is widespread and as a result of globalisation what was once Africa’s problems have now become the world’s problems.

As students, fortunate enough to be at University and educated about those who can’t even imagine being at any kind of academic institution the onus is upon us to make a change. Be it through creating more awareness through spheres such as these - blogging forums, to helping one person at a time. I don’t promote giving street children money, as the probability of them using it to buy glue is high. What I do encourage is for us to be active in organisations which help the needy, giving of the food we don’t eat, not wasting money. People, here have become afraid of giving. We have become fearful of street children and have basically developed an ideological view of ‘the street child’. “They’re forceful in their begging, they like being on the streets because they get more money, so leave them, they resort to fighting or mugging to get what they want”. We now walk in groups, never alone in the ‘small town of Graham’ to protect ourselves from the ‘evil’ gang of perhaps nine to 19 years old.

Let’s change our mindsets; let’s make an effort to unite, instead of complaining, judging, blaming and constantly criticising. That isn’t going to change anything, we need to think of solutions, look to the future the more intertwined we become. Poverty will not go away if nothing is done, the least we can do is to ensure that as the years go on we decrease the number of those living below the poverty line.

A person who is honest and unchanging no matter who may come her way. Be it friends or foe she doesn’t stand for nonsense, basically, she’s a woman who stands her ground. Lwazi Lushozi as she meets with me on a Sunday night straight out of church service. She’s as bubbly as ever, a replica o Jack Black in her actions. Oozing confidence in every step, pulsating attitude as she gesticulates, shooting fierceness with her natural pout and displaying dominance as she takes the floor. Hands in the pockets of her hoodie and wearing the latest spring/summer “skinnies” she’s eager to talk. Without even speaking it is evident that Lwazi is an extrovert which is what makes her such an interesting character.

Lwazi, who is a BCom student at Rhodes University, openly states that she initially applied to NMMU (Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University) as well as Rhodes but was not accepted at NMMU. She’s content with her acceptance and made friends within the first week. Many are intimidated at first by Lwazi’s freedom of expression, “especially guys” she adds. “At the end of my matric year my best friend admitted to being scared of me, but once she got to know me she realized I’m not so scary (I mean we’re best friends)”. “Some people say I’m blunt, but it’s just me, I still haven’t changed even after years of people telling me I’m bold”. She emphasizes, though, the difference between blunt and hurtful and she does not tolerate the latter. “It’s not like I benefit from others’ hurt, I’m not like a fifth grade bully”.
As she recalls her childhood, legs crossed and gazing up at the ceiling mimicking a young girl at school, she remembers no time where she was ever shy or an introvert. She retells a habitual event whilst in Primary School, which involved her leaving her school bag at the top of the hill, running down to the classroom and telling her aunt to go back and fetch it. Early signs of the daring young women all know her as today.

Lwazi mentions that within her family, speaking out when it comes to resolving family issues is not the norm. She herself speaks out when necessary, which in a traditional Zulu family may come across as disrespectful. Being honest herself, Lwazi not only believes that honesty is the most important element of any relationship, be it within family, friends or boyfriends but it’s what people do with that honesty. In other words, amongst friends, when one tells another how those jeans really look on her, it’s not in an effort to mock or make fun of, rather to stop outsiders from doing that. Therefore, accept and be grateful for someone’s advice, “you’re asking for my opinion, aren’t you, so you must be strong enough to take it” Lwazi expects nothing less of her friends either. Still her advice doesn’t send friends running for the hills; she’s still the first port of call when in need of advice, as described by her friend, Asanda Makatesi. Not the cliché, bold and bombastic young woman unaffected by anything, but it’s the fact that people trust her opinion the most. As brutally honest as people say she is, they don’t really want her to change, it’s that honesty that they value and admire.

Cross Legged with hands resting on her lap, her tiny foot sways like a pendulum back and forth. She uses all four eyes to search across the ceiling, her hair finding its place routinely on her shoulders. Itumeleng Sekhamane, a small part of Lesotho soil, recaps the past year spent at Rhodes, and what the experience has meant for her in her own life. Tumi, as she is referred to by her friends, has given herself a new chance to live life without merely existing. Being a Bachelor of Arts student, Tumi has found a sense of freedom reverting from social expectations and requirements. She sits on the edge of the bed, facing an alphabetised bookshelf, personal assistant looking workspace and whites and colours structured wardrobe, all in a room with the new smell of vacuum.

Walking to her headquarters we were stopped constantly by phrases such as “Hey Tumi!” and what followed was a bright, white display of incisors and molars. A beautiful surface, what lies beneath is dull and black. As she leans on the other leg, she recounts the story of the mountain she has had to climb over this year. A carb filled, beef smelling, onion and tomato surrounded mountain, with lettuce for a foundation. The Burger, bane of her life. “I always used to think that whatever it is I was doing, there were just people watching me, analysing me” she admits, with a comprehensive expression.

She describes her difficulty with being anywhere in the public, rapidly walking to classes, bag saddled down across her body, head down and eyes on her feet. It is this nature that had prevented her from steering forth into the dining hall and attacking her food. Embarrassed at the possibility of making a mess with her meal, her first time in the dining hall was like having to walk down a path of needles with a ball of fire in her chest. Planning before hand how she would go about making her way through the different meals, she told herself, “I just won’t eat, I’ll eat another time. Don’t look at anybody, walk normally.” Eating had in fact become, Mission Impossible.

As the seasons changed, or stayed the same in Grahamstown, this nature subsided. The Burger is no longer the devil. “The first time I ate a burger, I felt triumphant. I bit into it and the sauce went out on the sides but I didn’t care. I finished and no one was looking at me.” She says this with hands swimming an unknown stroke in the air and eyes illuminated. She is calm, takes a deep breath and what follows is a bright white display of incisors and molars. She still walks rapidly to classes, bag saddled down across her body, with head down, eyes looking at her feet. Only now, she is able to raise her head as she walks towards the dining hall and The Burger, has moved form being a stubborn, starchy mountain, to just being food.

Yvonne

Divania Timmal

While sitting at her laptop on the weather service finding out tomorrow’s temperature, Raisa Meiswinkel reflects while smiling “I need to plan my outfit to wear for tomorrow because I like being in control”. As you walk into her room, on the notice board she has a week by week planner of the work she has to do. The sounds of the Gorillas play through her Hi-Fi, and while looking around her room there are photos of her family members, boyfriend and friends and she says “I need to keep my family members close to keep me to keep a balance”.

“One of my weaknesses is that I am a person who needs to be right and this is detrimental to my health”, Raisa believes that this may be the reason for staying at Rhodes, where she realises that she is not necessarily really that happy. “The fact that I do not want to be proven wrong, will make me stay at Rhodes”. But she believes that with the right attitude she can make it work. Her only problem with the university is that she does not enjoy the, “Rhodes’ vibe, it is very elitist”. The ornaments in her room, her colourful “hippy- type” handbags; as she calls them; and the statues placed at different corners in her room portray her as a down to earth person who does not like people showing off their material wealth and illustrates why she feels like she does not fit into the “preppy” crowd at Rhodes.

“I have always wanted to write and do art”, she reflects as she recalls the choices she had to make before coming to Rhodes. Her life has always been filled with art and she even went so far as to move away from home at 16 to Pretoria to study art. That did not work out so she went back home to Port Elizabeth and attended another two art schools and eventually ended up at an academic college, which is where she realised that, “I had other talents besides art” and that she needed to apply her mind and brain to something other than art.

Raisa initially wanted to go to Cape Town to the advertising school A.A.A. but decided against it and opted rather for Rhodes, “I wanted to be far away from home and not be under my mothers’ protection but close enough in case the shit hit the fan”, she laughingly jokes. During O-week at Rhode she explained in embarrassment, “I kept my mom in my room and would not let her or myself out”. She was not prepared enough for the changes she would face in university life and did not want to let go of her mom and see it through alone.

“Nothing is too terrible; yet”, this is her logic as she explains her reasons for staying at Rhodes and states once again that she will probably get sick just in attempt to survive by working hard at her academics. She is happy with her family and friends and wants a balanced life, where there is no-one dictating her every move. Sitting at her laptop in her pyjamas with rings on her fingers, she smiles and states that, “although I am struggling, I am making a conscious decision to make this work and hopefully I won't die in the process!”

Tyreen Ragadu