I Predict a Riot
Some complain that I update this blog too often - "it's like watching 24" one exhausted lady told me. Well, how can I refrain when so many things are happening at once! Cape Town was in flames yesterday. Blocks from my work, security guards (who have been on strike for a week or so over low pay) were going on a rampage, burning cars and smashing windows. A friend of Cousin's captured it all on camera:
It's weird, the people employed to keep others safe causing such danger. But as usual, the main danger is to themselves. Some people crossing the picket line have been mutilated and thrown off trains. A life is not much worth down here.
Blocks away, however, I was busy falling in love with a flat. And this morning, I found that my application (you have to apply to be allowed to sign a lease - usually this involves credit checks, but since I've only been here a week they just had to go on my good word and offer to pay up double deposit, which wasn't neccessary) had been accepted. It's a beautiful Art Deco house up in Vredehoek, on the slopes of the mountain, with mountain views from the master bedroom and amazing city views from the kitchen/lounge with a beautiful balcony. There is also a communal garden (shared by four flats) with barbecue area and three dogs, which is good for security but may throw sticks in the wheels for any plan to share the flat with a cat called Gris, Sofia.
The downside is that Vredehoek has a reputation for being windier than other parts in the summer. But even from inside, the views are so breathtaking that I don't care. It's just about on budget, and best of all I can move in next weekend.
It's also about time that I start writing about my work. It's been a mess until now as I've been trying to do it at the same time as finding flats and cars and god knows what else. But as with everything else, it's slowly falling into place.
My first press day will be on the 13 June - a Tuesday. What that means is that by that day, I'll have to have a 16-page paper with words on every page, proofread and ready to send to the printers by that evening. As we start monthly, for the first three or four months I'll be doing most of the writing myself, so I've managed to find a young Norwegian lady who used to work as night editor for The Guardian online, who hopefully will be helping me out with copyediting and proofreading a day or two next month.
As for what to fill the pages with - that's up to me! I've already got a bunch of stories, and have commissioned a few opinion pieces. But there's a lot of politics involved in balancing the news coverage between stories about South Africa (of which there are many) and the rest of the continent (which are harder to come by as their governments' communication systems are not as developed as the South African ones). There's an issue with not appearing too didactic and condescending, especially since I'm a white person writing it, and the project is funded with UK money.
Then there's the freelance situation. I've got to hire a reporter, someone who will be intended to take over my job at the end of the two years that my contract is for, and that person should be on the team hopefully by the time we stop handing the paper out for free and start charging for it (September, it's said). The person should be non-white (for equal opportunities reasons) and perferably come from outside of South Africa.
After mailing editors in Botswana and following other routes, I've a pile of emails in my inbox, some of which are written in very poor English (which sets alarm bells ringing) from journalists offering their services. There's no shortage of people wanting a job, unsurprisingly. But how to sort the wheat from the chaff?
Since the African Union is based in Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, it would make sense to find a good stringer working out of there. Science is one of the areas discussed in the Union as a tool for developing African nations. But the journalism college in Addis has a dodgy website, and I've yet to hear back from the Dean about contacting their graduates. Communicating with the continent is like pouring water down a leaky pipeline. Only a fraction of it ends up with the recipient, it seems.
And here I am writing this into the ether, hoping somebody out there reads it... It's a strange world.
It's weird, the people employed to keep others safe causing such danger. But as usual, the main danger is to themselves. Some people crossing the picket line have been mutilated and thrown off trains. A life is not much worth down here.Blocks away, however, I was busy falling in love with a flat. And this morning, I found that my application (you have to apply to be allowed to sign a lease - usually this involves credit checks, but since I've only been here a week they just had to go on my good word and offer to pay up double deposit, which wasn't neccessary) had been accepted. It's a beautiful Art Deco house up in Vredehoek, on the slopes of the mountain, with mountain views from the master bedroom and amazing city views from the kitchen/lounge with a beautiful balcony. There is also a communal garden (shared by four flats) with barbecue area and three dogs, which is good for security but may throw sticks in the wheels for any plan to share the flat with a cat called Gris, Sofia.
The downside is that Vredehoek has a reputation for being windier than other parts in the summer. But even from inside, the views are so breathtaking that I don't care. It's just about on budget, and best of all I can move in next weekend.
It's also about time that I start writing about my work. It's been a mess until now as I've been trying to do it at the same time as finding flats and cars and god knows what else. But as with everything else, it's slowly falling into place.
My first press day will be on the 13 June - a Tuesday. What that means is that by that day, I'll have to have a 16-page paper with words on every page, proofread and ready to send to the printers by that evening. As we start monthly, for the first three or four months I'll be doing most of the writing myself, so I've managed to find a young Norwegian lady who used to work as night editor for The Guardian online, who hopefully will be helping me out with copyediting and proofreading a day or two next month.
As for what to fill the pages with - that's up to me! I've already got a bunch of stories, and have commissioned a few opinion pieces. But there's a lot of politics involved in balancing the news coverage between stories about South Africa (of which there are many) and the rest of the continent (which are harder to come by as their governments' communication systems are not as developed as the South African ones). There's an issue with not appearing too didactic and condescending, especially since I'm a white person writing it, and the project is funded with UK money.
Then there's the freelance situation. I've got to hire a reporter, someone who will be intended to take over my job at the end of the two years that my contract is for, and that person should be on the team hopefully by the time we stop handing the paper out for free and start charging for it (September, it's said). The person should be non-white (for equal opportunities reasons) and perferably come from outside of South Africa.
After mailing editors in Botswana and following other routes, I've a pile of emails in my inbox, some of which are written in very poor English (which sets alarm bells ringing) from journalists offering their services. There's no shortage of people wanting a job, unsurprisingly. But how to sort the wheat from the chaff?
Since the African Union is based in Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, it would make sense to find a good stringer working out of there. Science is one of the areas discussed in the Union as a tool for developing African nations. But the journalism college in Addis has a dodgy website, and I've yet to hear back from the Dean about contacting their graduates. Communicating with the continent is like pouring water down a leaky pipeline. Only a fraction of it ends up with the recipient, it seems.
And here I am writing this into the ether, hoping somebody out there reads it... It's a strange world.
posted by Linda at 10:54
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