This is a recipe from a book I have used over and over for the past 12 years. It is the first present I bought for Leon. True to form, he never looked at it ever again, and I used it constantly. Try it, this is a really good chutney.
Apple and Plum Chutney
With some adaptation, from I. Berry and R. Weidland : The Art of Preserving, 10 Speed Press, Berkley, 1997.
You can use slightly unripe apples and plums for this recipe. And any variety of plum. This is a sweet chutney. I like to give it a bit of a kick by adding some chillies. If you don’t have any, Cayenne pepper will also do.
Ingredients
1 kg firm green apples
2 kg plums
3 large onions
2 cloves garlic
2 cups sultanas
2 cups white wine vinegar
3 cups brown sugar
2 t salt
1 t Allspice
5cms fresh ginger (chopped finely)
½ t ground nutmeg
¼ t ground cloves
¼ t freshly ground black pepper
1 t mustard seeds
3 or 4 dried Birdseye chillies
Peel, core and dice the apples and place in a large (I emphasise LARGE) nonreactive pan. Halve, pit and dice the plums and add to the pan. Peel and chop the onions and garlic and add to the pan together with the remaining ingredients. Stir for 5 minutes over a medium heart. Bring the mixture to a boil and then simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the chutney thickens (about 1 ½ hours). Ladle into warm sterilized jars, cool and then seal.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
"Room" by Emma Donoghue
“Room” by Emma Donoghue (London, Picador, 2010)
My partner, who read this book first, didn’t want to reveal anything about it to me, when he suggested that I read it. He said he could not say anything at all, because it would spoil it. When I did read it, I kept wondering why it was that he had been so reluctant to say anything. The fact is, the book is either a complete puzzle to begin with, or it is not. In my case, it wasn't. I think it may have been more complex an experience if it were, but for me things were fairly clear from the first few pages. If you suspect that you might find it a complete puzzle – and would enjoy that experience, then stop reading NOW and go and get it. Because it is certainly one of the most worthwhile books I have read in a very long time.
This is the first book I have read with a child narrator. Jack, aged 6 has grown up in a single room, 11ft by 11ft. He was born in this room, which he and his mother have lived in for 7 years – imprisoned, and against her will. For Jack, however, this is the only world he has ever known. It is a friendly place. His reality is defined by objects which are named with capital letters – “Door”, “Rug”, “Table”, “Bed”. There is only one of them in his life. They each take on particular personality and are often spoken of with gender attached to them. For Jack, his world is small, but it is highly ordered, interesting, wonderful, exciting and safe.
His mother is an extremely sensible and utterly heroic figure, who is coping with the extreme situation as best she can. She has to manage the sexual regime of her captor who is the only link to the outside world. She does this, keeping him away entirely from her son, who is, obviously fathered by him. She creates and maintains the order of her own and her child’s world. The only thing which she does not control is the erratic behaviour of her captor.
The story is told entirely from the perspective of Jack. Language is used often as a 6 year old would use it. And the tiny world is described entirely from his perspective. The reader learns as he learns; experiences as he experiences. He is completely connected to his mother and the room he lives in, but entirely disconnected from the rest of the world. Indeed, the outside world simply does not exist. His mother is complicit in making this true for him. This is a decision she has made. The world of the television is explained as another sphere of reality. It is, effectively, unreality. So what is real, is what is inside the room. What is on the television, is not real.
Throughout the book, I kept on asking myself what kind of decisions (like this one), I would have made, if I were in the same situation. I came to the conclusion that that I would, most likely, have confused the situation immensely, by not allowing the child to think that what was on the television was unreal. I came to see that her decision was an extremely wise one. An extraordinarily practical and Existentialist solution to the problem. By making the television world an outside phenomenon, which did not affect them in any way, she was creating an extremely safe place for her child. And that, surely, is the very basis of good child-rearing. If the child does not feel safe. If he or she does not trust their immediate environment, then the damage in later life is likely to be profound
Another decision the mother makes, is to continue breastfeeding. When one first encounters it in the book, it is noteworthy – possibly even strange. But then so is the entire situation. The fact is, the mother, in that situation, makes choices (and sometimes, chooses not to). That she manages to maintain order and regimen in that situation is what is remarkable about her and it is that which establishes itself as the major theme of the book. It is not unlike other memoirs of solitary confinement, where the person seeks to control the space in which they find themselves. As a protest. As a signal that nothing and no-one can take away their essential being.
It becomes clear that the birth of the child, in those circumstances is her lifesaver. She has, in him, someone to relate to; someone to communicate with; someone to teach and someone from whom to learn. The raising of the child becomes an amazing, liberating project. And it is because of his absolute trust in her - and through her, trust in himself - that they find they can both achieve the seemingly impossible.
The story reads, in places, a bit like an allegory. It is a testimony to the success heroism of most parents - and single parents in particular. It is impossible to be a parent of small children and not place yourself in that scenario. And, as I say, I found myself wanting in several instances.
The captor’s appearances are necessarily shadowy, because the child has learned to stay hidden from him. It is thus from this position, seen through the imagination and narration of a child, that the reader encounters this controlling character. To the child, however,(“Old Nick” as his mother calls him) is the bringer of “Sundaytreats”. He makes the bed squeak. When he comes in, the cold outside air follows him in. The mother manages to keep the two worlds entirely separate – just as she does with the television. The captor, also, is part of unreality. It is unpredictable. It is dangerous. Her world, on the other hand, is real, trustworthy, reliable and warm.
She uses everything she has to create this sense of security for her child. She is not overly religious, but the sun and the moon, which pass over the skylight are described as the faces of God. After an incident which involves them being punished by the captor, Jack wonders :
““Why is he still punishing us?
Ma twists her mouth. “He thinks that we’re things that belong to him because Room does”.
“How come?”
“Because he made it.”
That’s weird. I thought Room just is. “Didn’t God make everything?”
Ma doesn’t say anything for a minute and then she rubs my neck.
“All the good stuff anyway”.”
Donoghue offers us in this extraordinary book, an insight into the mind of a 6 year old as he experiences the world - normality and abnormality; trust and fear; safety and extreme danger; comfort and unimaginable responsibility. The fact that these experiences are in a microcosm, makes no real difference to their intensity. They are newly-minted experiences. They are utterly vivid and full of the intensity of new life.
But more than that, Donoghue offers us a profound insight into the heroism of the captive. I was drawn not only to her practicality but also the remarkable depth of her inventiveness and love. Her determination - the way she drew on the fundamentals of her experience to pull them both through. As a character, she is far from flawless. But she is brave and ordinary and extraordinary.
You don’t need to be a parent to read this book (though if you are, the experience will be heightened tenfold!). You just need to be human. Because that is what the book is about – a celebration of the essence of humanity.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Robben Island - a pilgrimage by a struggle hero
In the 1980's Pietermaritzburg was a cauldron of warfare between Inkatha and the African National Congress. They were terrifying times. Aided and abetted by the apartheid state, Inkatha rampaged everywhere, killing and intimidating. Priests and ministers of the church who were actively engaged were few and far between. Many of them just battoned down the church hatches and hoped it would all go away. Not the Revd Ben Nsimbi - a humble and remarkable Methodist, who was there for the people who were suffering - who stood out in any crowd, despite his slight stature.
He expressed the hope, some time ago, that he wanted to see Robben Island before he dies. I, together with a struggle lawyer in Durban, have been privileged to be a part in enabling this dream to come to fruition. He and his wife Thoko have been staying with us for the past few days, during which they went to the Island.
What follows below are his impressions of the visit. I will comment, at the end of them, on what I see to be really significant insights - put in a really simple way:
Visit to Robben Island
31 December 2010
Revd Ben Nsimbi
As our feet touched the ground, Cde Madiba’s words during the Rivonia trial came to mind -
“I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
My soul, my mind, my body – yes, my whole being felt revitalised and rejuvenated. I am not a politician, but all of my life has been unfortunately negatively affected by the notorious apartheid system. I could write volumes about this, but God forbid!
This Robben Island was a curse to our black community and foolishness to the whites. It was foolishness because they thought the size of their army; the huge machinery of their security forces and; (worst of all), the myth of their having been ordained by God to rule over us, could never be challenged.
Like the lepers of the ancient days, political prisoners were dumped here, lest they contaminated the rest of their fellow human beings with their ideology. Today, the Island has become an international attraction for tourists of all walks of life, young and old.
Our minds were challenged and our hearts moved when we met a boy of 10, who had travelled with his father from Australia to see the place whose name is now synonymous with Madiba. In his hand this boy carried a book entitled “Viva Mandela!” On the ferry he was enthusiastically paging through it. The question went through our minds, how many South African children of that age would take an interest in the liberation struggle of their own country? For me, this is a crucial question, because if we forget where we come from, the gains that have been made will vanish into thin air. There are many battlefields inside and outside South Africa, against the apartheid regime, but Robben Island, surely, remains unique.
The young man who was our tour guide in the bus spent time showing us where the PAC leader, Mr Robert Sobukwe was placed in solitary confinement. He briefly outlined his biography. His telling of the story was extremely impressive and reminded me of the special parliamentary session which was called at the time to pass the so-called “Sobukwe Bill” (The General Laws Amendment Bill) This Bill would permit the detention in solitary confinement without trial for 90 days. One particular clause was directed at Robert Sobukwe. He had been due for release, but instead was transported to Robben Island, where he stayed in 24-hour solitary confinement for six years.)
From the bus, a middle-aged ex-convict, Mr Msomi, took us through the different sections and cells in the prison. I did wish that we could have been divided into smaller groups at this stage, because the group we were in numbered more than 100 people. This meant that we could not hear some of his comments or explanations. It was very much a rushed process and we could not ask some of the questions we had on our mind.
To Thoko, my wife, who has never been imprisoned, it was horrifying. To me it was less so (of course, I was not imprisoned on Robben Island).
Ideally, we would have liked to spend more time on the Island. We would have liked time to digest and to reflect on what we had seen. We would have liked to hear what some of the other convicts had to say. In a word, there was not sufficient time for contemplation.
We went to the Island expecting something educational and spiritual. This could have been better achieved if there was more time, less rush, and more interaction with the guides. Instead what we experienced was a commercial one, rather than an educational one. Despite that, however, it was an extraordinary experience and has fulfilled one of my life-time ambitions.
Revd Nsimbi raises several interesting observations which, I would think, need much more further discussion. Firstly, there is the issue of the interest which South African children have in history. He wonders whether a South African child be as interested as was the young Australian boy he encountered, in his/her own history - let alone someone else's history? There can be no doubt that South African learners of today are very much less engaged with the struggle against apartheid. In many ways that is a good thing – something one would want. But it soon becomes clear, when one engages in discussion with many young people, that there is just a simple ignorance about the most basic facts of South African history. Equally because of the way the present curriculum is structured, there is equal ignorance on other struggles, both present and past, in other countries. This has been an issue which has been widely debated and acknowledged – but it remains a blight on our educational system and will have profound effects on the way the future generation understands and interprets itself.
The second observation he makes is that Robben Island needs to be celebrated as a primary site of black consciousness. A visit to the Island does highlight the importance of certain people such as Robert Sobukwe, but somehow the contribution of Black Consciousness, in particular, seems to have got lost in the "rainbow nation" dream. It was (and to my mind, remains) a hugely important contribution to our struggle and I don’t think there is nearly enough focus on it.
Finally, Revd Nsimbi expected (not unnaturally) the experience of visiting the Island to be spiritual one. In some rather limited senses, it was. But there was not enough opportunity to pause, to reflect, to be contemplative. I would say that that must be a grave flaw in the tourism design of the place. Robben Island is not an ordinary museum. It is much more like a Cathedral, a Mosque, a Temple. It is a World Heritage Site and it was chosen to be that, because it is entirely unique. That, in itself, should be a limiting factor on the commercial opportunity – and a pointer to the design of an experience that enables the visitor to engage with it and be changed by it. It has not achieved that, unfortunately.
He expressed the hope, some time ago, that he wanted to see Robben Island before he dies. I, together with a struggle lawyer in Durban, have been privileged to be a part in enabling this dream to come to fruition. He and his wife Thoko have been staying with us for the past few days, during which they went to the Island.
What follows below are his impressions of the visit. I will comment, at the end of them, on what I see to be really significant insights - put in a really simple way:
Visit to Robben Island
31 December 2010
Revd Ben Nsimbi
As our feet touched the ground, Cde Madiba’s words during the Rivonia trial came to mind -
“I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
My soul, my mind, my body – yes, my whole being felt revitalised and rejuvenated. I am not a politician, but all of my life has been unfortunately negatively affected by the notorious apartheid system. I could write volumes about this, but God forbid!
This Robben Island was a curse to our black community and foolishness to the whites. It was foolishness because they thought the size of their army; the huge machinery of their security forces and; (worst of all), the myth of their having been ordained by God to rule over us, could never be challenged.
Like the lepers of the ancient days, political prisoners were dumped here, lest they contaminated the rest of their fellow human beings with their ideology. Today, the Island has become an international attraction for tourists of all walks of life, young and old.
Our minds were challenged and our hearts moved when we met a boy of 10, who had travelled with his father from Australia to see the place whose name is now synonymous with Madiba. In his hand this boy carried a book entitled “Viva Mandela!” On the ferry he was enthusiastically paging through it. The question went through our minds, how many South African children of that age would take an interest in the liberation struggle of their own country? For me, this is a crucial question, because if we forget where we come from, the gains that have been made will vanish into thin air. There are many battlefields inside and outside South Africa, against the apartheid regime, but Robben Island, surely, remains unique.
The young man who was our tour guide in the bus spent time showing us where the PAC leader, Mr Robert Sobukwe was placed in solitary confinement. He briefly outlined his biography. His telling of the story was extremely impressive and reminded me of the special parliamentary session which was called at the time to pass the so-called “Sobukwe Bill” (The General Laws Amendment Bill) This Bill would permit the detention in solitary confinement without trial for 90 days. One particular clause was directed at Robert Sobukwe. He had been due for release, but instead was transported to Robben Island, where he stayed in 24-hour solitary confinement for six years.)
From the bus, a middle-aged ex-convict, Mr Msomi, took us through the different sections and cells in the prison. I did wish that we could have been divided into smaller groups at this stage, because the group we were in numbered more than 100 people. This meant that we could not hear some of his comments or explanations. It was very much a rushed process and we could not ask some of the questions we had on our mind.
To Thoko, my wife, who has never been imprisoned, it was horrifying. To me it was less so (of course, I was not imprisoned on Robben Island).
Ideally, we would have liked to spend more time on the Island. We would have liked time to digest and to reflect on what we had seen. We would have liked to hear what some of the other convicts had to say. In a word, there was not sufficient time for contemplation.
We went to the Island expecting something educational and spiritual. This could have been better achieved if there was more time, less rush, and more interaction with the guides. Instead what we experienced was a commercial one, rather than an educational one. Despite that, however, it was an extraordinary experience and has fulfilled one of my life-time ambitions.
Revd Nsimbi raises several interesting observations which, I would think, need much more further discussion. Firstly, there is the issue of the interest which South African children have in history. He wonders whether a South African child be as interested as was the young Australian boy he encountered, in his/her own history - let alone someone else's history? There can be no doubt that South African learners of today are very much less engaged with the struggle against apartheid. In many ways that is a good thing – something one would want. But it soon becomes clear, when one engages in discussion with many young people, that there is just a simple ignorance about the most basic facts of South African history. Equally because of the way the present curriculum is structured, there is equal ignorance on other struggles, both present and past, in other countries. This has been an issue which has been widely debated and acknowledged – but it remains a blight on our educational system and will have profound effects on the way the future generation understands and interprets itself.
The second observation he makes is that Robben Island needs to be celebrated as a primary site of black consciousness. A visit to the Island does highlight the importance of certain people such as Robert Sobukwe, but somehow the contribution of Black Consciousness, in particular, seems to have got lost in the "rainbow nation" dream. It was (and to my mind, remains) a hugely important contribution to our struggle and I don’t think there is nearly enough focus on it.
Finally, Revd Nsimbi expected (not unnaturally) the experience of visiting the Island to be spiritual one. In some rather limited senses, it was. But there was not enough opportunity to pause, to reflect, to be contemplative. I would say that that must be a grave flaw in the tourism design of the place. Robben Island is not an ordinary museum. It is much more like a Cathedral, a Mosque, a Temple. It is a World Heritage Site and it was chosen to be that, because it is entirely unique. That, in itself, should be a limiting factor on the commercial opportunity – and a pointer to the design of an experience that enables the visitor to engage with it and be changed by it. It has not achieved that, unfortunately.
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