Those Who Can, Teach

I'm tardy with this message for "2011 Teacher Appreciation Day" but, fortunately, late gratitude doesn't result in detention.

I was one of those kids that couldn't wait for the first day of school. Probably because I was fortunate enough to have some great teachers along the way, particularly in second grade. Mrs. Janelle Seaborne gets full credit for my love of monarch butterflies, spelling bees, and, most important, reading. Forty years later, I can name few pleasures that rival losing oneself in the pages of a good book.

Mrs. Nelda Wilbanks gets high marks for emphasizing art. And because she let my 4th-grade class listen to 45s on Fridays after lunch, I can also thank her for my Charley Pride appreciation.

Ms. Diane Locke taught me Algebra I and II, driver's education, and, according to my mother, swimming lessons at the Athens Country Club the summer I was three years old. The fact that I can still solve an algebraic equation, parallel park, and spend hours in the dead man's float proves she could teach just about anything.

I wish I could remember the name of my high school trigonometry and analytic geometry teacher. In the second half of my senior year, she awarded me with my first C+, thus tanking my overall class ranking. She assured me that any college admissions officer would be impressed by the fact that I took analytic geometry as an elective. And while that was a load of bunk, she did teach me that, if I really wanted to master something, I was going to have to work at it.

Dr. William Campion taught the mechanics of writing better than anyone. He was unforgiving when it came to grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, and demanded clear communication delivered with flair. The benefit of this lesson became apparent when one of my English professors correctly wrote "I don't think you actually read this book" across the top of one of my papers, but still gave me a B+ because of its pithiness. I also have Dr. Campion to thank for the fact that I was able to skate through SMU with a decent GPA by purposely choosing classes with final papers counting for more than 75% of one's ultimate grade.

Thank you, Phil Seib, for opening my eyes in your ethics of communication class.

Professor Jim Albright showed me it was possible to monetize my love of writing. He could be ruthless in his copy critiques, but his assessments always made me want to improve.

As I'm not blessed with many innate talents or a mind-blowing IQ, I can credit my successes to someone who was willing to teach me a skill or expose me to a new idea. Nine times out of 10, that person was an educator.

I give this profession an A+.

Goods, Better and Best

I traveled to Cape Town about a month and a half ago to attend Design Indaba (http://www.designindaba.com/) with Astrid Sulger, the jewelry designer I have been working with here in Maputo. Design Indaba hosts an incredibly cool expo each year curated by an advisory panel of top South African designers, stylists, critics, and industry experts. This was the third year that Astrid has been invited to participate, and she asked me to join her to assist with sales and marketing. This event attracts both the public and store buyers, so it's a great trade opportunity, although it does pose the challenge of having to switch between retail and wholesale prices, depending on the individual. The biggest personal difficulty, however, was the fact that it required me to stand around in five-inch heels for 12 hours straight three days in a row, a feat I would have sneered at last year. Manolo and Christian, I'm sorry to have let you down.

The following is lifted straight from the Design Indaba website, and best captures its mission.

A BETTER WORLD THROUGH CREATIVITY

Since 1995, Design Indaba has been committed to a vision that is built on the belief that creativity will fuel an economic revolution in South Africa.

As such, Design Indaba is a celebration of design in a country iconic of the triumph of the human spirit. Proof that even the most intractable problem can be neutralised by the will of the people, resurgent South Africa is a beacon to the world. Design Indaba typifies this can-do spirit through its belief in design and how it can help solve the problems faced by an emerging economy. With the right support, a better future can be designed.

By attracting the world's brightest talent, Design Indaba has become a respected institution on the creative landscape and one of the few global events that celebrates all the creative sectors - graphic design, advertising, film, music, fashion design, industrial design, architecture, craft, visual art, new media, publishing, broadcasting and performing arts sector. Besides the flagship conference and expo, Design Indaba has grown into a multitiered experience that incorporates an extensive range of elements such as events, publications, education, training, business, development and community initiatives.

While I don't have a lot of experience with trade shows, this one blew me away. It's held at the Cape Town Convention Center and features booth after booth of art, furniture, fashion, toys, jewelry, decorative items, and more. Prices range from $3 finger puppets to $50,000 artworks, and include everything else in between. I'm sorry that I can't share photos as cameras were off-limits in an effort to thwart copy cats, but I've attached some links at the end of this blog.

Long before moving to Mozambique, I have had an affinity for the type of design that blends utility, history, and beauty with locally sourced materials. So it's been fun to search for things that meet that criteria here. South African designers, in particular, seem to have more than their fair share of creativity, particularly when it comes to recycling and repurposing objects. Sure, you'll find more than enough stuff unaffectionately referred to as Afri-crap. But for every lizard playing a guitar made out of discarded soda cans, there is something so exquisite it will take your breath away.

Astrid had a teensy booth located in one of the worst possible locations in the Expo Hall, so it was remarkable that anyone ever found us. But if I had a rand for every time I overheard someone say, "This jewelry is beautiful!" I'd still be shopping in Cape Town. Granted, I had absolutely nothing to do with its creation, but I still felt the pride that comes with being associated with something special. That said, I also got to experience the disgruntled shopper who reached out reverently to touch one of the necklaces, then visibly blanched when she saw the price. I went into my spiel of "...every piece of jewelry is made completely by hand by local artisans trained by Astrid, blah, blah, blah..." She looked me dead in the eye and said, "Maybe you should consider using machinery" before stomping away.

I've thought about that comment a lot lately. Although I would probably trample thirty talented African artisans if they were standing between me and, say, some ginger-flavored Altoids about right now, I have gained a tremendous appreciation for handmade goods while living in Mozambique and, in particular, traveling to South Africa and Swaziland.

I'm certainly not anti brand, as witnessed by the Pavlovian shopping response that comes over me every time I browse Taigan (www.taigan.com). And I truly understand the cost benefits of mass production, as I would hate to have to pay for the world's only iPad. But I am currently dwelling amongst the worst of the planet's mass-produced goods. Every time I go to a store (Game and Shoprite, yeah, I'm talking to you), I'm confronted by a hideous array of crappy junk devoid of quality, integrity, and, in some cases, its expiration date. It's infuriating that a manufacturer would think it's acceptable to pawn off its sub-par products to a developing country (China, I'm talking to you) and equally infuriating that this country's leaders would let it happen. The amount of poorly made, over-priced, unintentionally disposable products available here could choke a bottomless landfill. And I realize that's not limited to Mozambique.

So, in addition to grousing via this blog, I will be expressing my outrage via my wallet. If quality is unavailable - wherever I find myself - I will do without. I will consider sustainability before price. I will reward ingenuity. I will support the efforts of those who make their living creating beautiful, delicious, or unique things by hand, particularly if said things are created locally. I'll avoid things that are overly processed and overly packaged. And I'll pass along recommendations whenever I come across something I really, really love.

Here are the aforementioned links to things that qualify. I hope you like them, too!

David West. http://www.davidwest.co.za/ He has a store called "Weekend Special" that changes each season to suit his new collection. The one I saw at DI was best described as Afro-Prep.

Still bitter that this ring was not available for purchase.

http://www.iol.co.za:80/lifestyle/style/fashion/south-africa-s-most-beautiful-things-1.1052962?image=7

Recreate by Katie Thompson - love the chairs made out of vintage leather suitcases!

http://www.recreate.za.net/

Van Der Merwe Miszewski. My kind of architecture. http://www.vdmma.com/

Justin Southey, an illustrator with an awesome sense of humor. http://justinsouthey.blogspot.com/

Blue Collar White Collar. Super shirts. http://www.bluecollarwhitecollar.co.za/

Zenzulu. Great name. Even better home decoratives.

http://www.zenzulu.co.za/index.html

While I'm not sure the world needs yet another good-cause-helpin'-environmentally-friendly tote, the Give It Bag has some of the best silhouettes I've seen.

http://www.give-it-bag.com/

Sootcookie Ceramics (name means "sweet biscuit" in Afrikaans) by Tanya Laing. The creature I wanted sold before I could get back to her booth. Grrrrr. http://sonodesign.wordpress.com/2011/01/27/sootcookie-ceramics/

Also, design-minded folks should subscribe to

http://www.designindaba.com/product/subscription

Anybody got change for a sand dollar?

If asked to choose between Team Beach or Team Mountain, there's no contest: I'd be in a swimsuit faster than you can say SPF 75.

So I'm embarrassed to admit that, until a few weekends ago, I could count the times I'd been to the beach here on one finger. In my defense, it's not particularly inviting at first glance. Maputo is located on a bay, and four different rivers drain into it, thus the water is quite murky. And a boat ride to Xefina Island (site of a former Portuguese prison located about 3 miles offshore) showed me that it's teeming with jellyfish. If that wasn't enough of a deterrent, there are still remnants of giant columns where, during colonial times, the Portuguese strung nets in an effort to keep swimmers safe from sharks. So, yeah, I get my ocean fix a few hours north. Where, by the way, the beaches are absolutely stunning.

But Astrid stressed the importance of timing Maputo beach walks with low tide, so I decided to give it another shot. We went together last Saturday, and now I'm absolutely hooked. It's amazing! You can walk, literally, for miles. And the trash-strewn sand and maladorous air I remembered from my earlier venture were nowhere to be found.

On the weekends, the beach is a bit of a scene with vendors selling food, soccer matches, families on picnics, beach volleyball games, wedding photo shoots, and the occasional religious ceremony. But during the week, it's practically deserted.

Yesterday, I borrowed my friend Joanna's Portuguese Water Dog (hereafter known as The Fabulous Pedro) and went back. It was completely empty, save for the occasional fisherman and a few kite surfers, and the weather was perfect. We are heading into winter here, so the temperature was a breezy 70-something instead of the sweltering 100-plus degrees combined with 80% humidity we've had for last the five months.

I'm still a little leery of venturing too far out by myself, so it was nice to have TFP as company. Of course, in the event that I would actually be accosted by a band of evil-doers, it's unlikely that he would do much more than exhaust them via a relentless game of fetch. Regardless, he is splendid company!

When I was growing up, finding even a fraction of a sand dollar on a Texas beach was cause for great joy. So imagine my delight when happening upon a perfectly intact specimen while casually strolling along the sand on my very first outing. Then spotting an even bigger one a few feet further. And then another. And yet another. My hands became so full that I couldn't carry my sandals, so I started filling my pockets. I also came across a few intense violet sand dollars that I assumed were some exotic variety found only in the Indian Ocean. Turns out, I'm the idiot who didn't recognize what a live sand dollar looked like. I figured it out after my beautiful violet collectibles died a slow, grisly, and slightly smelly death on my balcony.

I now have more sand dollars than I know what to do with, but I still can't resist picking another up whenever I spy a particularly perfect one. The locals see me carrying them back to my car, and look at me like I've spent too much time out in the sun.

Fortunately, TFP doesn't mind.