2019 / / APRIL / / ISSUE 1 PAGE 1 THE KINGFISHER GAZETTE Cultural Events – Sporting Events – Creative Writing - Reviews SMALL FISH IN THE BIG OCEAN: FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL By: Alyssa Dennis and Tumelo Khathi High school…a chapter in our lives like no other. It is often portrayed as terrifying, disastrous and melodramatic in movies. You are no longer babysat, nor looked after. Conforming to the “small fish in a big pond” classic, you are tossed around in the corridor of giants, trying to avoid the matriculants who are ready to prey on innocent grade 8’s.The truth is that high school could be much easier without walking around carrying tons of books, having to climb the strenuous stairs repeatedly whilst traipsing from one lesson to another. Most of us belonged in one of two categories when we finished primary school. Firstly, the “it’s finally over” category, for the people who celebrated leaving childish endeavours behind, not realizing what part of their life was gone forever. Little did they know they were exiting the gates of childhood to enter this intimidating mature lifestyle. The second being the “cried myself to sleep” category for the people who wish that their lives hadn’t changed so quickly, into the world where ‘chaos reigns’ as high school is predicted to be. They didn’t realise what an adventure lay ahead and all the opportunities that there were for them. I, on the other hand, felt neutral until I drove through the gates on the very first day of the rest of my five years here at Hillcrest High School. The emotions hit me like a brick wall. I felt fear and curiosity in anticipation of what lay ahead of me and sadness for what I had left behind. Everything felt so different: the uniforms, the school rules, the classrooms, the teachers and the learners of Hillcrest High. The first day of high school for the grade 8s of 2019 was very difficult, but we were unexpectedly wrapped under the care of the welcoming students and the remarkable staff of Hillcrest High School. I suspected there to be a hierarchy with the matrics ruling supreme over the rest of the students, especially the grade 8’s. Their quad was the first place I located, a place I would never venture into, unless I wanted to face inevitable consequences, or actions worthy of an embarrassing performance. The reality is that our fears of being mistreated were put at ease as we got to learn and understand more about the learners of Hillcrest High. The higher grades are more understanding and appreciative of the grade 8’s, which put our minds at rest, knowing that we are under the guidance and good leadership of the seniors of the school. The worst part is that school seems to be a vicious cycle that never ends. We were the seniors of our primary school and the oldest, with the most authority, but now we’re the ‘guppies in a vast pond’. My opinion is that the fish pond quad was intentionally named for this reason as it signifies the younger grades in the school. We, are once again, at the bottom of the food chain; fearing the sharks, the top predators, lurking in deeper waters. We have become more mature, have the freedom to express ourselves and have endless opportunities to grow and develop as an individual. It is daunting at times, contemplating growth, but it will happen eventually and we must enjoy our short time of high school while it lasts. Some enter this school not knowing a single name, but we all get by as a unit working towards our goal at the end of the day which is getting to the end of the year stronger than before. The grade 8s are taking it one day at a time. We may miss our old friends and the familiarity and comfort of primary school dearly, but new friends will come our way, with all the adventures and memories they will give us. We feel pressurised to make the right decisions in our lives no matter how small and we may find ourselves wondering if it was the best one. We all make mistakes but choosing Hillcrest High as our high school was definitely not one of them. Meadow Postman and Maia Klijnstra first day of high school It always seems impossible until it’s done – Nelson Mandela Left: Natasja Degger Right: Kayla Searle
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2019 / / APRIL / / ISSUE 1 THE KINGFISHER GAZETTE · Cultural Events – Sporting Events ... (PTPI), assisted CANSA at the annual Shavathon, held at different shopping malls in the
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The cool evening stretched before us like an invitation
By: Samuel Haug
Immediately, as he entered the warm bar, Oleg felt a gentle glow begin to melt the small specks of frost on his face – the roaring fire illuminated the
entire room – contrasting the dull, blank landscape of ice and sleet outside. The bar was filled with loud laughter and voices raised in cheer ; glasses of
vodka and ale warmed the patrons’ stomachs and “reddened” their faces as they celebrated the abrupt end of a successful trapping season.
Suddenly, the sharp ringing of a landline telephone resounded throughout the log cabin ; immediately, there was a solemn silence as a stone-faced man
answered the telephone.
Yelena explained to them in a hurried, desperate manner – her situation was looking very bad. First of all, her leg had become infected and was
bleeding freely now – she had managed to stop the bleeding for a few hours, however, without proper treatment she would surely die. Stationed at an
outpost in rural, Siberia, Yelena had been tasked with studying life in the Artic circle ; while coming back from a research mission, her colleagues had
been butchered by a large pack of wolves- the sole survivor, Yelena had managed to find safety within the outpost. Bitten by a wolf, she had only days
to live before she gave in to her injury.
The cold evening seemed to call to him and Oleg peered out at the distant horizon. His eight dogs barked happily in anticipation of the journey ahead.
None of the other trappers and hunters were prepared to risk their lives in order to deliver supplies to a lone scientist, stranded and injured at her
outpost.
As far as they were concerned, anyone who attempted the perilous journey through Siberian wasteland was suicidal – the below-freezing temperatures
cause by the on-going blizzard would kill any man within hours. However, Oleg was eager to prove himself as a man of determination and willpower -
making it back alive would guarantee his status as a respected trapper and outdoorsman.
Oleg and his dogs were approximately two hours into their five hour journey ; matters seemed better than first assumed. However, the temperature was
dropping rapidly as nightfall neared and Oleg had already lost one dog to a broken leg. He regretted putting it down and burying it, he should have fed
it to the other dogs – at least it would nourish the seven remaining.
He heard a harsh, high pitched squeal from one of his dogs as the ground collapsed in front of them, sending three of his Huskies tumbling into the
“snow ravine" – a large opening in the Earth covered by a deceptively-thin layer of ice. Instantly, Oleg reached for his knife and cut the bonds of the
Huskies loose – those who were hanging by their harnesses fell, squealing, into the void below. He could not risk losing anymore dogs – if anything,
the weight of those dogs could have dragged the supplies (and himself) along with them into the depths.
After many painful hours, Oleg and his remaining two dogs were nearing their destination . Oleg's hands had begun to succumb to frostbite, their food
supplies had started to run dangerously low – if they did not reach the outpost within the next hour, they too, would perish from the cold.
Bright lights began to shine through the never-ending blizzard – Oleg squinted in confusion and then joy as he recognised the shape of a building in
the distance, the outpost was finally within his reach. Picturing his triumphant return to the bar, Oleg set his face in stone and pushed onwards.
Shoving his considerable bulk against the door, Oleg managed to enter the outpost and drag his sled of supplies inside. Almost collapsing with the
effort, he unloaded his supplies and took off his gloves. His hands were almost black with frostbite and it pained him to walk – he wondered if he
could make the journey back alive.
Venturing through the outpost, he finally came to the living quarters – entering the room, the sight he saw left his whole body trembling. There, lying
motionless on the floor, was the body of the scientist – her leg lay in a pool of her own blood. Oleg stood there, staring in disbelief, at the scene before
him.
The secret to success is to do the common things uncommonly well – John D. Rockefeller
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2019 / / APRIL / / ISSUE 1
NEWSPAPER
Message in the street
By: Ross Blackbeard
He lies, perched like an eagle on the rooftop. He looks down from the heavens, vigilant and ready
to rain righteous execution on all who dare oppose him.
He cradles his weapon, an intimate love affair between man and machine. The gun appears to be
almost an extension of his limbs.
Below him, his brothers-in-arms trickle through the streets. They move like a colony of ants
through the winding passage and take up position in front of the compound. The air is dry and
corrosive on his coarse flesh. Days spent at the mercy of the sun’s rays have sucked the moisture
from his calloused fingers. All is still and all is quiet.
The colossal gates to the compound drag open. The ear-splitting squeals of unoiled hinges send
shockwaves through his brain and break his silent concentration. In the frame of the massive
gateway stands a small girl who begins to edge forward towards the startled soldier.
He swiftly moves to the ready and steadies himself. Peering through the scope, he identifies the
unmistakeable look of pure terror on the child’s face. She is clothed in traditional tapestry and
stumbles forward, arms firmly crossed.
For a moment, he is transported home. Memories of his own child play out like a movie in his
mind. The radiant, youthful image of his son juxtaposes with the sombre fear in the young girl’s
expression.
Clutching at her long robes, she wafts forward like a dark, diminutive phantom, becoming ever
closer to the soldier’s position. A crashing realisation of the imminent threat of the young child
stuns him. He trains his crosshairs on her puny chest and observes her movements. Suddenly,
metres from his brother’s post, she halts and rips off her robes, to reveal a primitive bomb strapped
to her small figure.
A thunderclap reverberates through the street. It strikes down the tiny insurgent and she folds like
cloth, landing in a heap on the ground.
A wave of chilling realisation washes over him. The pain he feels in his chest is not caused by the
vicious recoil of the firearm, but rather by the backlash of grotesque guilt.
War is where good men go to die. The image of the tiny, lifeless figure in the dust acts as a solemn
reminder of this tragic truth. However, to the perverse powers that fuel this war, she is nothing
more than a message in the street.
There are no traffic jams on the extra mile – Zig Ziglar
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2019 / / APRIL / / ISSUE 1
NEWSPAPER
Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can – Arthur Ashe
Inheriting a family treasure
By Grace Lahner
“Captain!” my first mate bellowed as he clung to
the worn rat lines, “Captain, we've gone too far.
We have to go back! I fear we will soon become
part of the sea-bed!”, he cried.
“No" I thought as my red hair whipped across
my face with the gust of wind. I was the last
Cormac that knew where James Cormac (my
ancestor) had placed his treasure. If I did not
find the island, than the family secret would die
with me.
All members of the Cormacs had died at sea
looking for our family fortune. Except me, I
would not be a part of this family tradition.
The sea danced violently and scooped up our
vessel in its embrace. As it threw us back
down, I felt my stomach turn. “Crack!” the
thunder roared and an unexpected flash of
light followed, from that light I saw it …
Shutterstock Island.
“Onward, our destiny awaits!” I bawled. The
ship bobbed and crashed on top of the waves
as we headed towards the flickering light.
The ship docked upon the sand. The cloud
parted and I felt the rays warm my face. Hope
filled my heart, as I was the first Cormac to
have come this far besides my ancestor. I
dragged out my tattered map, given to me by
my father before his sudden disappearance. He
made an exact copy of the original, so I could
complete what he couldn’t if he did not return.
I followed every detail until I stood before a
rock carved with a skull and crossbones. I had
found it.
“Get the shovels boys and dog!” I ordered
Day had become dusk by the
time we heard the shovel hit
something. The men began to
dig faster, when finally a
wooden chest lay at my feet.
With shaking hands I picked
up my sword and slammed it
upon the lock. I lifted the lid
and shone my lit torch to find
… Nothing but a letter that
read, “Dear son the greatest
treasure is found within. Don’t
let greed destroy your life the
way it did mine. This is the
best inheritance I can leave
you,
Love your father
James Cormac.”
Valentine’s Day By: Anastasia Stenos
Valentine’s day is an opportunity to celebrate love and friendship and
the delight of having other people whom we cherish in our lives. It is a
day of flowers, confectionery and cards decorated with hearts. This
special day’s origin, however, is not so rosy.
There are various theories on how Valentine’s day began but the most
recorded one began in Rome in the year 268 AC. Emperor Claudius II
wanted a ferocious team of youthful men to brawl in his armies.
Word of Valentine’s secret spread to Claudius.The priest was found
and sentenced to death (rumour has it, on the 14th of February
thus, making Valentine’s day on the 14th every year).
No one knows exactly when St. Valentine’s day was first celebrated.
While Valentine was a Catholic Christian Saint, his death and the
traditions of love he ignited is honoured world-wide by people of all
religions and ethnicities.
He found that when adolescent men were in love or sharing their lives
with their wives and children, they tended to be more distracted in
battle. To gather large numbers of soldiers for his armies, Claudius
prohibited marriage for the young men. Naïve men fell in love with
women and Claudius could not extinguish the love between couples.
The young lovers wanted to be married in the eyes of the church. A
valiant priest named Saint Valentine believed that the law was unjust.
Putting his life in jeopardy, Valentine continued to perform marital
ceremonies, doing so in secrecy and hiding from the clutches of the
authorities.
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2019 / / APRIL / / ISSUE 1
NEWSPAPER
POEMS
An untitled poem By Anastasia Stenos
He is a delicate flower
But also a poisonous thorn
He is a blinding star
But also the demented darkness
He is the life-saving cure
But also the life-threatening
sickness
He is an extraordinary piece of art
But also a blank plain canvas
He is the best
But also the worse
He is sculpted
But also imperfect
In my heart
And in my eyes
He is damaged
But also he is a blessing
Underneath the African Sun
By Christina Leigh
Rising from the dusty plain,
With hope in every burst of rain.
This land of everlasting strife,
this Africa , our source of life.
Breaking out of rusty chains,
with wildness flowing in her veins.
This land where all creation roam,
this Africa, our common home.
Reaching out across the years,
with echoed genes and veils of tears.
This land of skulls and mystery,
this Africa, our history.
Forever feral, never tamed,
with restless destiny unnamed,
This land of the eternal child.
This Africa forever wild.
Failure is the opportunity to begin more intelligently – Henry Ford
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2019 / / APRIL / / ISSUE 1
NEWSPAPER
A day in the life of a prefect
By Christina Leigh
There are currently many exciting and special events to look forward to for the students of Grade 11 in 2019. One of these is, however, is the selection
of members of the Senior Leadership Team (SLT)and other leadership positions for the matric year of 2020.
On Monday the 11th of March, the current matrics were privileged enough to visit The Playhouse in Durban to watch the famous Shakespearean play
‘Hamlet’. This gave the Grade 11’s the perfect opportunity to act as monitors for a day. This meant that all the Grade 11’s who are hoping to be
members of the SLT were strutting around, instructing people to behave, with their heads held high and their pride-inflated chests sporting a sticker
with the word ‘Monitor’ written on it in large, bold black letters.
The surprise came, however, when they began to realise that being a member of the SLT is not all that it appears to be. One has to try and correct those
students with a scruffy appearance, instruct them to put their phones away and there is absolutely no time for a bathroom-break. There is a
significantly amount of discipline and responsibility required, but this must be combined with respect and kindness; to carry out orders and enforce the
Hillcrest High School code of conduct. From my experience, all I can do is commend the current Senior Leadership Team and all matrics of 2019 on
the responsibility they have taken on and their willingness to always help others. It will be interesting to observe the members of the Senior Leadership
Team of 2020; one might simply say that it is the ‘survival of the fittest’.
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There is no substitute for hard work – Thomas Edison
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2019 / / APRIL / / ISSUE 1
NEWSPAPER
The Girl Behind The White Blazer
By Grace Lahner
We see a girl in a white blazer but the real
question is...Who is Ayla Nuttall really?
Whilst being the 2019 head girl, we still
wonder what is beneath all those accolades.
Why do you love Hillcrest high school?
I love the vibrant and lively atmosphere at our
school. There never seems to be a dull or
boring day as something is always happening.
I love the enthusiasm, as well as the
commitment of the teachers and other staff
members as well as the consistent shared
attitude of staff members and pupils to always
better the school in every way possible.
The love the support received from students
and the pride that is felt within the school.
There have many occasions, particularly
while I was on the sporting field, where I felt
this support and pride from students who were
watching and cheering the whole 40 minutes
of a netball game.
How are you feeling about the matric
dance?
Unprepared to say the least! I feel as though I
haven’t even had a chance to think of my
Matric Dance, but I’m really excited and
looking forward to it!
What are your dreams and plans for the
future?
If all goes according to plan, from next year
I’d like to be staying in Stellenbosch and be
studying medicine at the Tygerberg campus. I
dream of specializing in dermatology after
qualifying as a doctor but, for now, one step at
a time.
What is something that you have learnt in
high school that has changed your life?
I’ve learned many lessons in my short 4 years
at high school. The main lesson however is
how to deal with a variety of different people,
all with different views, opinions and
backgrounds in an empathetic, understanding
manner. I believe that these skills will benefit
me greatly in the workplace and career in the
future
Was it a dream or a goal of yours to be head
girl and is it all you thought it would be?
It was definitely a goal of mine. The moment I
heard the head girl, Micaela Groenewald speak
at our grade 8 parents information evening, I
was inspired to be in the same position that she
was in. Since then I worked hard towards my
goal, always trying to better myself and always
trying my best in all that I did.
The position is more overwhelming than I had
expected, however I had had previous SLT
members tell me how much work it would be…
I only quite realized when I was in the position
of head girl. Although it’s a big task to take on,
I have enjoyed every moment of it thus far. I
love the challenges this position presents me
with as it develops my problem-solving skills
and my ability to think on my feet. I look
forward to what it has in store.
What advice would you give to your grade 8
self?
“Reach for the moon, because even if you miss,
you’ll be amongst the stars. “
This quote is quite relevant to my life and I
wish I had known it sooner. Quite often people,
including myself, fear dreaming bigger because
of the possibility of failing. My advice is to just
go for it anyway!
What is a Quote you live by?
“There is no perfect, only practice.”
Success is the sum of small efforts repeated day in and day out – Robert Collier