I just finished reading Letter from Africa: America’s cousin on the continent, an article where David Smith (a UK journalist for The Guardian) lays out his views on all the similarities between South Africa and the US. As a South African currently living in the US, this immediately grabbed my attention. And the piece starts off pleasant enough — Mr. Smith argues that Los Angeles is like Johannesburg, Miami is like Durban, Washington DC is like Pretoria, and San Francisco is like Cape Town. I found myself agreeing with everything — I live in the San Francisco Bay Area and I have to give him that — if you were somehow able to plunk down another Table Mountain where the Golden Gate bridge currently is, you’d pretty much have Cape Town!
He then gets a little more serious. He starts talking about racial tension and the political similarities between the 2 countries — still making a whole lot of sense along the way. And then, completely out of the blue, Mr. Smith ends the article with this:
Yet there is one thing that South Africans have not mastered, and that is the relentless optimism of Americans about their country. Whether they would be well advised to do so is a question that will take time to resolve.
At first I thought I’d just let it go. Move on, it was a pleasant read, just post it on Facebook and be done with it. But now it’s festering, and 2 hours later I still can’t get over it, so I have to respond…
Well, we’re about half-way through the pregnancy now, so it’s time to stop and take stock of what I have learned so far about being a dad. Let’s be clear about this – I’ve learned very little. And yes, it is freaking me out. But in a wonderful way. Even though I feel monumentally unprepared, I can’t wait to hold our baby girl in my arms.
So here is what I’ve learned about fatherhood over the past 5 months. And for you math geeks out there – yes, 5 + 5 = 10. Did you know a pregnancy is actually 10 months long? I didn’t. The whole 9 month thing is pure trickery!
#1 – Pregnancy books are boring
Jess bought me The Expectant Father before she was even pregnant. I have to be honest – I really tried to keep up. But there are just way too many big scary words in there. I just want to know the baby is alive, kicking like crazy, and that Jess is happy. That’s it! Everything else is details. But I do understand how important it is to be a part of the process (I read that in a pregnancy book somewhere), so I have found two pregnancy books that I feel are particularly informative for dads-to-be:
My boys can swim! The official guy’s guide to pregnancy tells it like it is. With chapters like “Maternity Attire” and “The Mother of All Shots: The Epidural” it gives you all the essential information without the fluff. Get this book.
[When you teach your child during pregnancy], the teaching method has to be very simple. I mean, you can’t go in there with slide projectors or anything. Where would you plug them in? So you’ll pretty much have to content yourself with yelling at the stomach. This is the man’s job, because let’s face it, the woman would look pretty stupid yelling at her own stomach
This past Monday we went to one of the most important ultrasounds of the pregnancy – the “boy or girl” event! I was prepared for it to be amazing, but I have to say that it turned out to be an experience I will never forget. Our previous two ultrasounds were great, and there were fantastic moments (like hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time). But this one was on a completely different scale for me. First, they roll in the big daddy of ultrasound machines, which should have given me a clue about what’s about to happen. Then, once the lights go dim in the examination room, and they get the TV all set up, you start to feel like you’re in a movie theater watching your legacy unfold right in front of you. The ultrasound lasted 20 minutes, but we just wanted it to go on forever. The first thing we saw as the image came up, was this wave:
We had a great technician who clearly loves her job – and this makes the experience even better. She was able to catch all the right moments – here’s a picture where you can see the baby’s spine perfectly:
In a continuing effort to immortalize every moment of my transition from non-parent to dad, this is the first in a series of posts about the exploration of this brand new world — just so I won’t forget. I apologize if this is boring to you, but there’s a lot to read on the Internet, so I think you should be ok.
Now that I have that disclaimer out of the way… We visited Babies R Us for the first time this weekend. My parents are currently visiting from South Africa, and they wanted to buy our early-second-trimester baby a gift. Who are we to say “No” to such an offer? So off we went, with a lot of mental preparation on my part — because I was fully briefed on how overwhelming your first visit can be (as one friend put it, “I never knew how many things there are just for babies to sit in!”).
As we arrived, I realized again that having a baby comes with many wonderful perks. This probably isn’t a big deal, but for me, finding out that we can park right in front of the store was the perfect way to diffuse any fears I may have had. “Stork parking.” Clever.
So in we went. I expected the store to be big, but let’s face it, once you’ve been in Costco, nothing else is big anymore. So that wasn’t an issue. What really blew my mind is how high-tech everything has become. Not that I really have anything to compare it with, but I am just fascinated by the design ingenuity that goes into some of these baby products – especially when it comes to the whole sit/sleep/play/transport class of baby activities.
We left with a great gift from Grandpa and Grandma-to-be — a Graco Pack ‘n Play, which is basically a whole entertainment complex in a box, if you’re not familiar with this kind of thing. Oh, also — apparently Graco is a great baby brand. Who knew? And their web site is notwww.graco.com, it’s www.gracobaby.com. You only make that mistake once. Although, that would be an interesting merger…
Anyway, back to the transportable baby house. It is an ingenious piece of design. It has a little playpen, a bed, a changing table, some soothing sounds to help the baby sleep, a canopy thingy, and WHEELS, for crying out loud. It also has a bassinet, but I have no idea what that is, so I don’t want to talk about that feature until I figure it out. I was so disappointed that we don’t have anything to put in there yet. So for now it’s just sitting in a box, waiting patiently for its new occupant.
A week from today we have our next ultrasound where we will hopefully find out what the baby’s gender is. This will, I’m sure, lead to renewed urgency to get some form of baby room ready in our condo. I already lost the first battle (do we really need to get rid of the computer desk in there? It took forever to assemble!!), and I look forward to losing many more as we create this space. Because let’s face it, Jess is much better at this stuff than I am, and all I should really be allowed to do is paint.
My parents are currently visiting from South Africa, and last week we took them on a road trip to explore the California Coast. The weather was spectacular, and it was a great time all-around – it’s always fun when you have an excuse to act like a tourist in your own backyard.
These are strange times we live in, and I don’t think the current economic environment has impacted the collective psyche of a nation anywhere as much as it has here in America. The mood has changed dramatically over the past year or so, and it is hard not to get caught up in it all. Because yes, it is scary, and I’d be lying if I said that it doesn’t sometimes keep me up at night.
But all of this turmoil – the stress at work, the worries about the future, the uncertainty of the economy – went away for a few moments yesterday when I heard our baby’s heartbeat for the first time. I kid you not, it is like standing on holy ground. The realization that God is assembling a new life inside Jess fills me with a reverence and a sense of happy responsibility that dwarf any fears or uncertainty I might otherwise have. I fully embrace and run towards this “friendly takeover” of our lives, as my brother calls it.
Of course, I’m not the first dad-to-be to have this kind of reaction. Yes, all ultrasounds look the same – at 57 mm there is not a whole lot to see yet! But this one is different. Because this one is ours. It is moving around in there, alive and kicking. And all I can think about is how this tiny life fits so perfectly into God’s creation, how the many good and bad decisions we (and our child) will make in the coming years will shape this new creation into a person that has the potential to be a force for good in this world. What could be more exhilarating?
From now on, I won’t be skeptical when Jess explains her tiredness by saying “Hey, I’m building a person here!” She’s right. She’s building a person, and all I can do is make sure that I help build a world that is worthy for this person to live in. Bring it on. I’m ready.
The discussion over the societal impact of social networking sites (like Facebook and MySpace) and other social media (like Twitter) will probably continue for many years to come. There are certainly good arguments on both sides. Those who feel too much time online takes away from personal face time with friends and family out in the “real world” have plenty of lonely teenager examples to back them up. On the other hand, those who feel social media help people enhance their offline relationships have plenty of examples too. Where do I stand? Well, I take the easy answer — it depends on the individual, and what they use it for. What follows is a story of how a simple 140-character post on Twitter led to one of the most invigorating experiences I’ve had in a long time. But I still think, when it comes to social media… it depends.
Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I am a huge John Mayer fan (and those of you who don’t know me can tell from the title of this blog – yes, now is a good time to go search for “John Mayer Great Indoors” in iTunes). In addition to owning all the CDs and going to his live concerts every time he’s in the area, I also follow his blog closely. And as a Twitter user I was delighted to see that he also joined Twitter recently, so I followed him immediately.
Well, about a week ago, John Mayer posted this picture on Twitter, with the title Moving in, breaking out the vinyl:
For some reason, I couldn’t stop staring at this picture. Music is an enormous part of my life, but I’ve never really been into vinyl. This image — and the promise of the history and joy in this decades-old music — for some reason lit a fire under me to explore vinyl.
Well, as I started reading up about turntables and records online, I quickly realized that I had a lot to learn. I also immediately understood that if there’s one thing all audiophiles agree on, it’s that nothing sounds better than a good record. The sound ranges and emotions in analog recordings are simply superior to any digital recording. (Well, there are exceptions of course. I’m sure a Britney Spears record sounds just as bad as a Britney Spears CD. As someone recently told me in a record shop — you can’t polish a turd…).
Anyway, far from being an expert, I set out this weekend to go buy my first record, Try! by the John Mayer Trio. This just seemed appropriate seeing as I owe my new-found hobby to John Mayer, and I was pretty sure that blues lends itself pretty well to vinyl recordings. But I didn’t have a turntable yet. So I asked at the front desk of the music store (Rasputin, for those who live in the Bay Area) if anyone knew where I could buy a turntable. They sent me to the Analog Room. A mythical place they’ve never been in — in fact, they’ve gone looking for it but couldn’t find it. But they assured me that it existed. So off I went, in search of this mysterious place…
When I walked into the Analog Room it was like stepping into another time and dimension. It’s a few rooms in a house, filled with record players, LPs, and 3 middle-aged guys arguing constantly about equipment, sounds, and of course, their favorite records. I spent my morning there, listening first to my new John Mayer Trio record (“John Mayer is a lot of things, but well recorded isn’t one of them,” was their verdict), and then to the entire Folk Singer album by Muddy Waters. From the first notes of that record I was hooked. I suddenly had a huge smile on my face, and my new friend Brian pointed at me and said, “That’s why vinyl is better than CD.” And I got it. This was the real deal.
I now own a Rega P1 record player and 3 vinyl records: John Mayer Trio (even though the recording is apparently not that good), Folk Singer by Muddy Waters (of course I had to get that), and Axis: Bold as Love by the Jimi Hendrix Experience (the record in the top left corner of the photo above — wow, what a recording). The sounds of vinyl are opening up new doors to experiencing music for me. It’s like discovering a secret garden in your backyard. I’ve only scratched the surface, and I know so little about this world, but I can’t wait to get more. If you have recommendations for essential albums to own on vinyl, please let me know.
So anyway, that’s why I use Twitter. Because every person in the world is interesting at least some of the time. And if you just listen at the right time at what they have to say, your life will be so much richer.
As a South African currently living in the United States, I have heard every response imaginable on my decision to (temporarily) leave South Africa. The responses range all the way from “you must be glad you got out of that dump” to “how can you abandon your country at this critical time?” – and everything in between. Recently the press has picked up on what has become known as the big “brain drain” out of South Africa. This week, Newsweek got into the game with an article sensationally called “Fleeing From South Africa“. I’d like to take a few moments to respond to this article – but please read it first for context.
First, I want to say that there lives a unique dichotomy within those of us who were born and raised in South Africa. Look, we get it. We get that the crime rate is astronomical, the politics are corrupt, and things just tend to not work the way it “should” according to First World standards. Yes, we get all that, but still we can’t emancipate ourselves from this flawed, breathtakingly beautiful country – and its open-hearted, ready-to-take-on-the-future people. And then I read paragraphs like this one in the Newsweek article, and I just shake my head – not because the facts are wrong, but because it misses the point so completely:
The primary driver for emigration among all groups, but especially whites, who still retain the majority of South Africa’s wealth, is fear of crime. With more than 50 killings a day, South Africa has one of the highest per capita murder rates in the world. The same goes for rape—ranking the country alongside conflict zones such as Sierra Leone, Colombia and Afghanistan. Future Fact polling indicates that more than 95 percent of those eager to leave South Africa rate violent crime as the single most important factor affecting their thinking.
Yes, it sounds scary – and the facts are disturbing. But I’ve also recently seen a remarkable uprising of positivity in South Africa that I haven’t seen before. I’m increasingly seeing a “good riddance” attitude towards those who leave the country loudly and for negative reasons. A hope that all the complainers would leave already, so that those who would like to stay and build can get down to business without the distracting and annoying voices of the nay-sayers. I still remember a high school teacher who once asked me, “Do you want to ride the wave of a place that has already accomplished everything, or be a part of building something that has huge unmet potential?” I choose the latter.
I know what you’re thinking though – how can I be judgmental about this while I sit “safely” in another country. Sure, point taken. But I can say that my reasons for leaving had nothing to do with the crime rate or the politcal environment (Yep, I left to pursue a girl…). And I can also say that we will move back, we will definitely move back, and that I’m using my time here to develop skills I can use to help build the future of South Africa.
Why do we plan to go back? Because there’s no place like Africa. Chaos and beauty exist so close to each other, often within the same place and the same moment, and it creates an energy that you just cannot describe. Yes, it’s not for the faint-hearted, and the decision to live there, especially if you’ve lived somewhere else in the world for a while, is made for reasons that transcend the traditional Western values of consumerism and security.
You live in Africa because you can’t get it out of your blood. You live there because you are placed there to make a difference. You live there because you are compelled by the red earth and the redder sunsets to make a small contribution to the ongoing effort to save it from itself, to preserve both the chaos and the beauty so that it can co-exist in harmony. And you do it not for yourself, but for your children, and for generations to come. You live there because you believe that Africa is not the dark continent it is made out to be, that it cannot be written off, that it is too precious and too fragile and too robust, that the world is making a big mistake if it thinks African countries cannot be successful, peaceful democracies.
And so I’ve had several conversations with my country over the past few years. We’re still fighting with each other, my country and I, not quite coming to an agreement about my future there. But I’m ok with that for now. Because I know Africa will never retreat, never stop talking, never condemn me for taking so long to come back. Make no mistake — I know that Africa does not need me. But I need it, desperately. I need it to blow life into my calloused bones. And I need it because I was born there. I am an African.
I don’t understand why good bands have to break up. I recently wrote about Motor Ace, and today it’s time to lament the demise of The Juliana Theory, one of the few emo bands who I thought had brains too, not just an overdose of heart. Although there’s more than enough heart to put them in the emo genre (Exhibit A: they announced their break-up on their site with a single-line blog post: The Juliana Theory is Dead). The music was smart, different, daring… well, until about 2002. After that they unfortunately sunk into the abyss of radio-friendly generic rock, which is probably what doomed them.
But let’s not talk about that, let’s focus on happier days – well, as happy as emo can get – their 2 brilliant albums Emotion Is Dead and Love. Below are a couple of songs off the Love album that really showcase their talent – overly emotional, like emo should be, but with enough melody and musicianship to be taken seriously. Make sure you listen all the way through Everything, it gets huge at the end.
Into the Dark by The Juliana Theory:
Everything by The Juliana Theory:
You should really add these albums to your collection. It’s great for having a good emotional freak-out session without the added guilt of having to listen to Josh Groban while you’re there. Oh, and no need to listen to anything they did after the Love album. Trust me.
On this Inauguration weekend I’m spending some time looking back at the inaugural addresses made by past presidents. The address that captivated me the most was that of John F. Kennedy in 1961. The lyrical content and almost musical quality of the speech is inspiring and timeless. The parts I found most relevant for the world we live in today are his strong calls for social justice that are scattered throughout the speech. Here are some excerpts:
For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe—the belief that the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God.
To those peoples in the huts and villages across the globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our best efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required—not because we seek their votes, but because it is right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.
Now the trumpet summons us again—not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need; not as a call to battle, though embattled we are—but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, “rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation”—a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself. Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort?
Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God’s work must truly be our own.
Below is the full 10-minute address. The hopefulness and optimism reminds me a lot of what President-elect Obama stands for, so as we prepare to hear him speak on Tuesday, let’s take some time to reflect on how history is not as far from the present as we might think. And let’s put away our cynicism, at least for a little while, because as we saw again this week with the plane crash in the Hudson river – when people pull together towards a common goal, miracles happen. Or, to use Obama’s own words:
We’ve been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope. But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.
And let us also not forget Robert Kennedy’s words:
Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.
