Boishaaier 2024

Creative Writing

The Rhythm of Life in a Small Town

Jethro Deacon, grade 11

Like clockwork the first wave of window shutters flies open, exposing the unmaintained faces of grumpy old fishermen. Their thick eyebrows cover the eyes and each fisherman has a deeper tan than the last. They waddle their way out of their homes and onto their boats before the sun fully reveals itself from underneath its dark blue blanket like a child afraid of the night. Like clockwork the second wave of window shutters flies open once the fishermen have departed, exposing the rest of the townsfolk of Porto Katze. A woman starts beating a carpet outside her window and plumes of dust rise into the warm air. She has a loud discussion with a woman in the window opposite the small alleyway. She gossips about her neighbour. The children hurry out the doors and down to the beach where they will spend the rest of the day soaking up the sun. The entire village is now awake. They all dance to their own beat. Fishmongers work to the beat of the hustle and bustle

of the local market. They scream over everyone to announce the arrival of the fisherman and fresh fish, and they continue to dance. Old men sway to the beat of their radios playing classical opera as they smoke cigarettes in cafés. Old ’nonnas’ shuffle down the small alleyways while they listen to the amalgamation of the town’s sounds – the Townlife Orchestra. These ’nonnas’ are the strongest of all the townsfolk. While they walk they pick fights with local business owners and children. The rushing village of Porto Katze is surrounded by a blue dome which is governed by the sun. The flaming ball in the sky beats down on the Italian village. Tar begins to ooze, terracotta roof tiles begin to shimmer as if they were put in a kiln. The village orchestra begins to slow its tempo. The sun forces a ‘ritardando’ on the town. The townsfolk retreat into their oven-like homes, and the entire village stops. The music stops. The dancing stops. For now, it is siesta.

Treasure

André Human, grade 10

Treasure is something we are all familiar with; that idea of a big chest filled with gold, buried deep down on some island in the middle of nowhere. But what if I told you you didn’t have to travel many miles to find your fortune, or that it might be right in front of you? It seems that the saying “Don’t take what you have for granted” has worked its way to becoming a cliché, yet many people still don’t quite get it. Finding beauty in your everyday life will firstly make you more grateful, secondly make you happier, and lastly make you more aware. You might already have lots of treasure in your life, but the question is whether you have found it. Treasure could be you and your friend greeting each other the exact same way every morning. Treasure could be the smile on your partner’s face. Treasure could be the comfort of your bed

after a long day. Treasure could be your favourite song playing in the car with the windows down and the breeze blowing on a hot summer’s day. The thing that makes it even more beautiful is that no two people have the same treasures. Some fortunes might be deemed more valuable than others – that once-in-a-lifetime find – be it finding your soulmate, getting that dream job or seeing a child you brought into the world for the first time. No matter how big or how small your treasure may be, love and care for it with your whole heart. Everything in life has value and each time we are ungrateful or unaware of what we have, we become poorer. Love what you have, care for what you have; love is not all about pay cheques and bonuses.Take a second to experience a moment and you too might find your treasure.

The inspiration for my life

Daniël Geldenhuys, grade 12

Everyone has their own heroes – the people they look up to and aspire to be. For some it is superheroes, for others it is great athletes, but for me it was an old man living in a run-down cabin, weathered by nature and the ebb of time. I lived in a small fishing village nestled between rolling mountains and the rhythmic embrace of the ocean. Living on the edge of the village was an old fisherman called Elliot. His face was weathered and carved into by his old age. Each day he would wake up before dawn and ready his boat and nets. As a young boy I went down to the docks and studied his way of doing things. I would watch him tie precise knots and mend his nets. To a young boy’s imagination, he was a brave warrior going out to the battlefield and returning with the spoils of war.

He had a way about him only obtainable by the experience that comes with time. He would talk to the ocean with the patience of an old man and the ocean would talk back to him from its depths. Each season brought forth new ambitions. In spring, the water would teem with life eager to jump into his net. Summer painted the skies with hues of orange and pink, basking Elliot in light as he returned. Autumn would bring forth great storms to battle every day. In winter the children would gather at the hearth of the Tavern and wait to hear his stories. As I stand now on the dock with my own boat, I look out over the great expanse of the ocean. In its great depths and breaking waves, I can see the spirit of a great man I looked up to. I can hear him calling me out to the ocean to start my own journey on the waves.

104 BOISHAAI 156 YEARS