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I’d be Happy if Every 12-year-old Read My Book: Emma Sadleir, Author of Don’t Film Yourself Having Sex

Don't Film Yourself Having SexSocial media law expert Emma Sadleir, who almost became a household name fielding Twitter questions on DStv’s Oscar Pistorius channel, chatted to Memeburn about the development and dangers of social media in South Africa.

Sadleir, co-author of Don’t Film Yourself Having Sex: and Other Legal Advice For the Age of Social Media, visits schools on a daily basis, sharing information about dating apps, messaging services, and what not to share on Facebook and Twitter.

“I consider my work to be the modern-day equivalent of the drug talk,” Sadleir says, adding that her book should be considered useful tool: “if every 12-year-old in the country would read it, I’d feel very happy about it”.

However, Sadleir warns that the dangers of social media do not only affect children and teenagers.

“Without even taking a break, kids would post on Facebook that their teacher is a dick. That’s just what they do and they don’t know it has implications. I feel like we’re failing children and that’s why I’m focusing on them. Teachers and parents have no idea what’s going on in this space. And parents think this is a school problem, that schools are meant to educate kids about social media. But it’s as much an adult problem as it is for schools.”

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“Sit dit aan, Sit dit aan”: Kom luister na Koos Kombuis by die Atterbury-teater

I-TjiengKoos Kombuis, outeur van I-Tjieng: ’n GPS vir verdwaalde siele, is ‘n legende in eie reg – bekend van Bettiesbaai tot Barberton.

Op 8 Mei betree hy die Atterbury-teater in Pretoria vir ‘n solo-vertoning soos min. Met “Sit dit aan, sit dit aan” bied Kombuis van sy jongste liedjies, oudste treffers en nuwe weergawes van ou bekendes.

Kaartjies kos R130 of R150, afhangend van waar jy wil sit, en kan aanlyn gekoop word.

Moenie hierdie geleentheid misloop nie!

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Gold Medalist Alan Oliveira on Oscar Pistorius: “It Would be Great to Run Together One More Time”

Chase Your ShadowThe Brazilian paralympic champion Alan Oliveira recently expressed his wish to meet Oscar Pistorius on the battle field to find out who is the fastest once and for all.

Oliveira, who won a gold medal in the 200 metre race against Pistorius at the 2012 London Games, said “it would be great to run together one more time”. The subject of Chase Your Shadow: The Trials of Oscar Pistorius shot and killed his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp on Valentine’s Day in 2013.

Pistorius has since been suspended from competing in the Paralympic Games for the next five years while he is carrying out his sentence.

Read the article:

While Oliveira would welcome the chance to take on Pistorius once more, the 22-year-old Brazilian said it was unlikely.

“It would be good to compete against him one more time,” Oliveira told Perform.

“Indeed, I think that it’s just impossible because he’s suspended for five years by [the International] Paralympic Committee.

“So after that time, doesn’t matter if he’s going to be less time in the prison or not, once he’s free and able to run he’s going to be quite old to compete at high level.

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Emma Sadleir says Pulane Lenkoe Should Lay Charges for Naked Twitter Photo

Don't Film Yourself Having SexEmma Sadleir has advised Pulane Lenkoe – the girlfriend of Orlando Pirates midfielder Thandani Ntshumayelo – to sue her ex-boyfriend, after he posted a nude photograph of her on Twitter.

The 31-year-old law student gained more than 11 000 new followers in just over 72 hours after the picture was leaked. “I don’t want to deal with this. I just want it to go away. I wish I could just wake up and somebody tells me it’s just a dream,” she told Times LIVE.

Sadleir, the author of the aptly titled Don’t Film Yourself Having Sex: and Other Legal Advice For the Age of Social Media, says Lenkoe could lay charges.

Social media law expert Emma Sadleir said Lenkoe could sue her ex for infringement of privacy, lay a charge of crimen injuria, or even get a protection order under the Protection from Harassment Act.

But Sadleir added: “Often victims land up doing nothing because whatever you do means that more people land up finding out.”

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Video: Melt Myburgh gesels oor die kultuurgeskiedenis opgevang in Danie Smuts se Boererate

Boererate“Ons het uitstekende skrywers in Suid-Afrika.”

Só het Melt Myburgh onlangs op kykNET se VrydagNag Laat-program aan Francois Toerien gesê oor die Afrikaanse leesmark.

Penguin uitgewers se opdraggewende redakteur het by die kykNET-studios gekuier en onder meer gesels oor Boererate, ‘n boek deur Danie Smuts wat in 1989 gepubliseer is en intussentyd uit druk geraak het. “Ons het gesukkel om die kopiereghouer op te spoor van Boererate en op die ou einde is dit Danie Smuts se dogter, Anna Vimercati.”

“Hierdie is ‘n lekker stukkie kultuurgeskiedenis en dis vermaaklik – dit is verskriklik snaaks, en ja vir mense wat so bietjie nostalgies voel,” vertel Myburgh. Hy gesels ook oor die breër boekbedryf en sy eie skryfwerk. Myburgh het in 2011 die gesogte Ingrid Jonker-prys vir poësie gewen.

Kyk na die video:

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A Thin Line Between Fact and Fiction: An Excerpt from A Fountain in France by Marita van der Vyver

A Fountain in FrancePenguin Books shared an excerpt from A Fountain in France by Marita van der Vyver.

A Fountain in France was released in February this year and Van der Vyver flew all the way from her home in Provençe to launch her new book at The Alliance Française in Cape Town.

In the following extract Van der Vyver ponders the nature of her books that have on occasion been labelled as “novels”. She writes about the thin line between fiction and non-fiction and shares her husband and son’s suggestions for appropriate genres.

Read the excerpt:

Tell them under thrillers, Alain suggests. With all the catastrophes and calamities that have been visited on our household, we could be something out of Stephen King’s imagination. No, fantasy, rather, my son reckons. ‘The Addams Family. That’s how you make us seem, Mom.’

If I must be completely honest, I have no idea either on which shelf A Fountain in France belongs. Not in DIY, that much is certain, even if the title may suggest a book about homes and gardens. But nor is it an autobiography. Readers who are hoping to find sensational secrets from my dark past will be profoundly disappointed. Good autobiographical writing demands absolute honesty – something that just happens to be easier if most of the people you are writing about are already dead. Put another way, I am not yet old enough for an honest autobiography. And nor is it a travelogue. Granted it is set in a region that to most South African readers must seem exotically distant and alluring, but I am not a traveller in this region. I have lived in Provençe for close to two decades; it’s where my daughter was born and where my son went to school.

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Heruitgawe van Danie Smuts se 1989 trefferboek, Boererate: Wenke en kure vir enige kwale

BoererateBoererate saamgestel deur Danie Smuts en Anna Vimercati is nou by Penguin beskikbaar:

As jong seun het Danie Smuts met ’n blikkie agter vee in die veld aangeloop om kuttels te versamel vir ’n konkoksie om maselspasiënte se simptome te verlig. Min het hy toe geweet dat hy eendag die legendariese aanbieder van ’n gewilde Springbok Radio-program sou word waarin die volk kure vir allerlei kwinte en kwale deel.

Toe Boererate – ’n keur van die tradisionele advies wat luisteraars oor die jare vir Smuts se radioprogram ingestuur het – in 1989 verskyn, was dit onmiddellik ’n treffer. Sedertdien het dié besonderse boek uit sirkulasie verdwyn, maar die aanvraag daarvoor nie.

’n Byna vergete era in die Afrikaanse kultuurgeskiedenis word in herinnering geroep deur dié vreemdsoortige en dikwels skreeusnaakse wenke. Die volgende stappe word byvoorbeeld aanbeveel om griep te bekamp:

1.) Plaas ’n bottel whiskey en ’n glas saam met ’n brandende kers langs jou bed.

2.) Klim in die bed, maak seker jy lê onder baie komberse, en begin geleidelik aan die whiskey teug.

3.) Sodra jy twee kerse sien, sit die glas neer, plaas die prop terug op die whiskey-bottel, blaas al twee kerse dood en gaan slaap.

Maar wees gewaarsku: Dat die griep binne 24 uur sal verdwyn, word gewaarborg, maar jy mag dalk ’n hoofpyn oorhou.

Boererate se oorsprong word teruggevoer na verskillende bronne: waarnemings, eerstehandse ondervinding, mites, godsdiens en selfs toorkuns. Behandeling gaan dikwels gepaard met die uitvoer van komieklike rituele.

Tussen die mediese advies is daar ook handige raad oor sake op die plaaswerf: hoe om ’n troeteldier se vel te laat blink, aartappelsteggies lank vars te hou, van lastige miere ontslae te raak, en nog baie meer.

Boererate bied onontbeerlike pitkos vir geskiedenis-liefhebbers en is ’n nostalgiese terugblik op ’n kosbare stukkie Afrikaner-erfenis.

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Excerpt: Tips and Tricks for Shopping, Cooking and Eating at Home from The Brain Surgeon’s Diet

The Brain Surgeon's DietDie Breinchirurg se dieetAdriaan Liebenberg has shared tips for healthy eating on his website, including a guide and list for shopping, tricks for healthier cooking and eating at home and a list of nutrient-dense foods you should include in your diet.

In a market flooded with quick-fix solutions for weight loss and healthy living, Dr Liebenberg, an internationally recognised neurosurgeon, provides an easy, safe and healthy alternative: use your brain to lose weight. He is the author of The Brain Surgeon’s Diet, available in Afrikaans as Die Breinchirurg se dieet.

Read Liebenberg’s tips and tricks, excerpted from his book:

Shopping

Ground rules (these are unbreakable rules):

Shop on a full tummy and never when you are hungry. You know why.

Make a list – category of food by category of food and base this on your week’s planned meals.

For instance:

Meat:

Monday – chicken breasts (4)
Tuesday – beef steak (1000 g)
Wednesday – vegetable bake, no meat
Thursday – salmon fillets (4)
Friday – pasta, no meat

Pastrami and lean turkey cold meat for sandwiches during the week

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Video: Douglas Kruger Asks Four Key Questions for Businesses That Need to Innovate

Own Your IndustryDouglas Kruger, the author of Own Your Industry: How to Position Yourself as an Expert, has shared a video in which he gives four tips for innovation in business.

He looks at four questions about innovation:
 1. Why optimise if it isn’t broken?
 2. Where do I even begin?
 3. How do I measure performance?
 4. How do I inspire my people to think about it?

Kruger says that innovation is important in all businesses, because they always need to keep up with change.

Watch the video:

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Four Elderly Friends and a Funeral: An Excerpt from The Last Road Trip by Gareth Crocker

The Last Road TripThe Last Road Trip by Gareth Crocker is a novel about adventure, rediscovery and friendship.

It is the story of four elderly friends who decide to take a final road trip from one side of South Africa to the other. Along the way, they discover that it’s never too late to start living.

The excerpt below introduces Jack, Sam, Rosie and Elizabeth – the four friends about to embark on a journey of epic proportions – and their impetus for the trip.

Read the excerpt:
 

* * * * * * *

 

CHAPTER TWO

 
Within hours of the funeral, Jack was back in the water. As usual, he had lost count of how many laps he had done. Given how long he had been in the pool, he knew it had to be a reasonable number. At the age of seventy-one, it surprised him that he was still capable of swimming prodigious distances – more so than he ever imagined possible at this stage of his life. Not that feats of endurance mattered much to him these days.

However, intrigued to see just what he was capable of, he had recently decided to test himself and had embarked on a swim with no end goal in mind. When boredom, rather than muscle fatigue, had brought a premature end to the experiment, he was astounded to learn from his friend, Sam – who was sitting poolside and counting diligently – that he had managed a rather remarkable 238 lengths. The equivalent, almost, of six kilometres. Still, it meant little to him. He was no longer obsessed with fitness the way he once was. The competitive urge that used to gush through his veins – that drove him to swim internationally for a time – had long since left him. He swam now because it was a form of escape and he still savoured the sensation of cutting through the crisp blue water, the comforting rhythm and solitude of it all. It was also the one place where he allowed himself to think about those things that, outside of the water, he knew were better left alone. More than anything, swimming was his way of connecting back to Grace.

He had met her a little over ten years ago. In a public swimming pool of all places. He was stepping into the water just as she was climbing out. Without thinking – and he still had no idea what had made him do it – he offered her his hand. To his surprise she accepted it and, as she ascended the last few steps, favoured him with a smile, which, as it proved, irrevocably changed his life. Able to think of little else, he returned to the pool twice a day for the next three weeks in the hope of seeing her again. When he eventually spotted her swimming on the far side of the pool late one Sunday afternoon, he waited patiently for her to finish. And, when she finally emerged from the water, he was once again standing there with his hand outstretched.

Within a week they were dining together. Within three months he had proposed. Ahead of a honeymoon in Cape Town six weeks later, they had married beside an old stone bench on Robben Island. With no family left to call on, their only guest had been the young minister who presided over the service. Etched against a deep-blue sky and the backdrop of Table Mountain, it had been a cool and windless day. A day beyond a postcard. A day of dreams.

In the years that followed, they continued to swim together. The pools changed with the seasons, but their routine seldom wavered. After almost eight years of a gentle and cherished marriage, they had even spent some time in the hotel pool the day before Grace’s operation. It was, as it turned out, their last swim together. Some days Jack wondered what hurt the most: that Grace had been taken so soon from him or that they had met so late in life. After all, eight years wasn’t a life together. It was a glimpse of one. And some days that weighed more heavily than anything else. She had been gone for almost two years already, but sometimes when he swam it felt as though she were still in the pool with him. On those days he could stay in the water for hours.

‘What lap’s he on?’ Rosie called out from across the pool.

Samuel Lightfoot sat back in his chair and cupped his hands around his mouth.

‘Thirty-seven at my count.’

As Rosie laboured around the top of the pool, she shrugged and shot him an unimpressed look. ‘Thirty-seven? Why bother even getting in the water?’

Sam felt a wry smile tug at his mouth. Rosie Banks traded in sarcasm and irony the same way that lungs traded in air – almost constantly and with little respite. Standing five foot five and weighing north of 260 pounds, Rosie waddled from place to place with all the elegance of someone whose legs had been denied the benefit of knees. She was often rendered breathless by the slightest exertion and it seemed a wonder to everyone – Sam included – that her heart continued to serve her. While some of the others on the estate badgered her about her weight, Sam let her be. He was very fond of her just the way she was. Besides, he knew that Rosie had long since given up on her battle with obesity. It had triumphed over her years ago and, knowing she had been well and truly beaten, she had done the only thing that made sense to her: she had turned it into the running joke of her life.

Rosie lowered her considerable frame onto a deckchair and took a moment to catch her breath. ‘Actually, have I ever told you my view on exercise?’

‘Not that I can recall,’ Sam replied.

‘Well, it’s like this. I figure our hearts are a lot like engines. Car engines. With me so far?’

‘I think I’m keeping up.’

‘OK, so we all know that there are only so many miles to be squeezed out of any one engine. Right?’

Sam cocked an eyebrow, but played along. ‘Right.’

‘So why the hell would anyone want to force their heart to burn through so many extra beats? Nobody ever extended the life of their truck by driving it 3 000 miles a day.’

Sam smiled and shook his head.

‘If you ask me, the best way to look after your heart is to keep perfectly still and do as little as possible. One could argue, in fact, that I did a certain amount of damage to my heart just walking here. We’ve got money, Sam. Maybe we can pay poor people to carry us around. Their hearts aren’t as important as ours. Their blood is like cheap wine to our Chardonnay.’

That, as it proved, was as much as Sam could take, and he began to laugh. Which, in their never-ending verbal joust, meant that Rosie had won the point. Again.

‘Damn it,’ he muttered. ‘Car engine? Really?’

‘It’s like competing against a child who has suffered some unfortunate brain trauma,’ she said, leaning over and kissing him on his forehead.

‘Hello, Rosie,’ he said, cupping a hand around her arm.

‘Hey, Sam.’

They chatted for a while, mostly small talk, until Jack climbed out the pool to join them.

‘Nice going,’ Sam said, tossing his friend a towel. ‘Close on fifty laps at least.’

‘He’s being kind. You were dragging arse out there,’ Rosie interjected. ‘It was embarrassing to watch, if I’m honest.’

‘My apologies, Rosie. I’ll put in more effort next time,’ Jack replied, running a towel over his head.

‘You know, Jack, with your hair all wet like that you bear a striking resemblance to an older George Clooney.’

‘Is that right?’

‘It is. Of course I’m not talking about the actor, but rather the homeless drunk who used to pound on my gate back in the day looking for free food and a good time.’

Jack smirked, but resisted any attempts at a witty comeback. Instead, he reached for his shirt and slipped it on. He then leaned over the cooler box and, without having to take any orders, handed a wine spritzer to Rosie and a lemonade to Sam – always a lemonade. He took a beer for himself. ‘So where’s Queen Elizabeth?’

‘Probably polishing her cheekbones,’ Rosie suggested.

At seventy-four, Elizabeth Shaw was the oldest of the four of them. But only on paper. Physically, she was something of an enigma. Her long brown hair seemed to be largely unaffected by the passage of time and shimmered with a vitality that belied her years. Her smooth skin and clear blue eyes suggested she was, at most, in her late fifties. And, if she was not already fortunate enough, she possessed the sort of facial structure and slim body that marked her as a classic beauty. It helped, of course, that she had spent most of her adult life in London – far away from the ravages of the African sun – where, after a brief career as a model, she’d spent the better part of forty years heading up an international fashion house.

‘There,’ Sam said, spotting her leaving the clubhouse.

As Elizabeth made her way towards them, Jack noticed that she was wearing a silk scarf despite the oppressive heat. It made her look like an old-school air hostess.

‘It’s unlike you to be late, Lizzie,’ Sam said, as she joined them.

Elizabeth went around the circle, kissing each of them. ‘Sorry. I was reading and lost track of time. How are you all? Good swim, Jack?’

‘According to Rosie, not good enough,’ he replied. ‘What were you reading?’

‘Just some novel. Never Let Go, I think it’s called. Nothing important. I just wanted to see how it ended.’

As she sat down beside Rosie and they launched into a discussion about one of their common friends, Jack turned to Sam and frowned. Sam nodded and then shrugged. He had also seen it. Something was troubling Elizabeth. Of all her many talents, being able to disguise her emotions was not one of them.

As Jack poured her favourite drink, lime and soda, Elizabeth turned to look at him. ‘You were wonderful this morning, Jack.’

‘I think wonderful is a strong word.’

‘Don’t be so modest. Paul was right to ask you. It was a remarkable letter. You did it justice.’

‘You did,’ Sam agreed. ‘Everyone’s been talking about it.’

‘You really didn’t read it beforehand?’ Rosie asked.

Jack shook his head. ‘It didn’t seem right.’

Sam took a sip from his drink. ‘I think his message really touched people. Struck more than a few nerves. It’s a pity we never really got the chance to know him.’

Jack watched as Elizabeth nodded. Her eyes were wide and intense. Holding his beer aloft, he regarded each of his friends with a warm smile and then rose to his feet. ‘To Paul. Quite possibly one hell of a guy.’

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