Writers Society


The Writing Society started out a few years ago as the brainchild of a learner Ivan Webb. It was designed to give everyone in the school a chance to write about something they are really passionate about. Previously, there had been no society or outlet that provided the learners with a vehicle for written expression and literary talent.

Primarily the writers wrote in English but this has been expanded into Afrikaans and isiZulu under the guidance of educators in these language areas.

Boys who write their own material (poetry or prose) can have it published in the school magazine and performed at an Expressions evening which are held 2 to 3 times a year.


The published work is included below for your enjoyment.

A Slice of Life
By Matthew Joseph Jenner

South Africa is epically beautiful and filled with people of every race, gender and religion, living in perfect harmony. The unfortunate thing is that South Africa is plagued with crime, which makes South Africa a difficult place to live sometimes.

As an aspiring filmmaker, I naturally want to utilize my environment to bring my ideas to life. I live in scenic Kensington, with many beautiful streets and areas. I often want to take my cameras out and just take a walk and film around my beautiful suburb. I am unable to do this, as I am in constant fear of being mugged for my camera. What kind of country is it when someone cannot have a run after 6 o’clock at night and feel safe and protect?

Petty criminals, such as muggers, are like HIV/AIDS, there isn’t a full proof cure and there won’t be for a VERY long time. The police try to catch each and every one. An impossible task. Communities start neighbourhood watches, but again, it’s highly unlikely that every criminal will be caught. Citizens try hard, but it’s not going to help us curb if we just have a man sitting in a wooden box all night long, looking out for crime.

The police are the men and women in charge of our safety and crime-curbing. Many of them are hardworking, dedicated officers. The main problem in this sector is that they aren’t paid well enough, so when a criminal offers a cop a fifty Rand note to look the other way; it is no surprise then that he takes it.

My opinion in the solution is that the government uses their budgets to a better use. Instead of buying a few new 4×4’s, they should inject money into the safety and security sector. Instead of building a new mall. Educate people on the dangers of guns and crime.

My main worry is the rise in CHILD CRIME. Children are getting involved in gang violence, for various reasons, such as some problems or lack of education. It is heartbreaking to see those children in juvenile prisons, people who should be the doctors, lawyers and engineers of tomorrow, are forever scarred from their stupid actions. The best way to curb child crime is to build community centres, where the possible criminal children can go and have a hot meal and play with other children like they are supposed to. This would drop the crime rate so much.

South Africa is a beautiful country, and I want everyone to see the splendour, but it is hard to tell people to come and see, when there is such a high crime rate . . .

The Rainbow Nation
Written by Tsebo Marwa

Today I woke up in a place where rivers run wild
And grasses grow tall
I woke up in a place where you are free to be who you want to be
Today I woke up in a place where all people are equal
Regardless of race, religion or creed.

I woke up in a place rich with history.
A place that thrived long before the imperialist powers arrived.

Today I woke up in a place where everyone has equal rights,
A place where these rights can be exercised.

I woke up in a place where the people have the power
And can vote for the leader of their choice.

Today I woke up in a place where children play and have no worries
A place where future generations will never forget the bloodshed
By the people of this nation.

Today I woke up in a place that condemns servitude,
A place where the mountains grow high and seas stretch wide.

Today I woke up in a place where Sarah Baartman once walked
And sat under the baobab tree,
I woke up in a place filled with diversity
A place where people understand that there are different cultures
But accept those differences
Today I woke up in South Africa

If you walked in my shoes “A Slice of Life”
By Verushen Coopoo

I am a chicken nugget

My life
Used to simple – it started
As a group of muscle cells
In a lump of breast meat.
My mitochondria forged glucose;
Golgi bodies hoarded proteins.
My life
Was bliss, until the day
We would never forget.

A knife, so dangerously sharp, slit
Through skin.
The creature’s pain reverberated
And slapped us all.

I was
From the rest of the chicken,
And now was part of a lump of meat.
Cut, cleaned, processed
Into chunks.
Chunks of living death.

Wrapped in plastic,
Sealed in polymer tombs,
Awaiting freedom.
My only hope
Was that we would be rescued.
By a humanitarian; a giving spirit
Who could help.
A vegetarian.

The other nuggets wanted to emancipate themselves. Outside of
This plastic wrapping, we would be
Free to frolic.
Or so we thought.

Ka-chings and small, red lights – we left
Our plastic purgatory was broken,
But afterwards we went somewhere new –
A boiling hot place
Where we all thought this would be
The end.
Cooled. Better. Not for long. We were
Shoved into a salivating dungeon.

Miniature glaciers crushed us.
It was wet and hot and sicky.
None of the nuggets we knew
Why this was happening –
Why that chicken had to die.

Compacted, and tossed down a
Long tube.
Plop –
A pool of fire.

Our golden-brown, crumbed
Bodies burned
With heat that could melt
A flame.
Then came the acid rain, it
Acid slowly sapped my sorry soul.
Began to fade . . .

Within this excruciating hell
I see a glimmer of
I meet Sal Monella
Who promised an escape.
He just needed time. Long. Laborious.

Now, Monella vanished from the unknown
Meat he came from and began working.
I do not want to live like this.
I want to be free again,
I demand to feel air and water.

There was a rumble from above
As the walls shuddered.
I puked a thought –
We will be saved.

An Extraordinary Reality
By Ivan Webb

I dreamed of a world extraordinary,
A world fit for those of brilliance,
A place filled with those of excellence,
A country where myriad colours were no source of folly

I am dreamed of a world called reality,
A world in which gold did roll freely,
A place where blood was spilled constantly,
A country within whose soil crimson turned.

I dreamed a world extraordinary,
A land where I could step forward confidently,
A crowd I could witness in unity,
And a people I could meet in diversity

I am dreamed of a world called reality,
A land filled with tempers of passionate souls,
A crowd unwilling to crest fall their crowns,
And a people divided by prideful heritage

I dreamed a world extraordinary,
A family of millions I could take care of,
A golden city I could speak for,
And a world of people I can stand for

I am dreamed of such a world,
I am dreamed of the peoples of the African Cape

Thoughts of an African child
By Ivan Webb

It is often said by my family
That the sun heralds a new beginning
A day in which I may wake and say,
All that was ill the day before is now well

It is dreadfully hard to believe
To look down at my bowl of some-thing,
To hear the groan of tin folding, warping, protesting,
To walk a dangerous path
And perform the deeds that need action
To milk my father’s cows,
To shepherd my father’s goats,
To protect my sisters from those who know nothing, nor care for, their dignity

And once my deeds performed,
I look upon the aged day and wonder:
How will tomorrow be well when today is so ill,
As so many before?

But here I sit,
A new morning shining with so much happiness
Sits before me and helps me to read
Read the beautifully-white paper
Of the letter in my hands

I knew not that these people lived,
Yet, neither was my belief at a well-day believable
I smiled down at the paper with its numerous letters
Hours had I poured over it before understanding

I went about my day,
So dreadful before, but now well-made
I kept my smile ‘til it was worn like my soles

The day was no longer dreadful,
It was well-made
Because I knew that somewhere in the World that I did not understand,
Someone cared about the way I wove my life

Every day since was well-made
As well-made as the uniform I now wear


Second Literary Evening (March 2012)

The second King Edward VII Literary Evening was held in March this year and was well received by an enthusiastic audience. Founder, Ivan Webb was the outrageous host for the evening and provided extra entertainment to the magnificent evening.

While poetry written by the Writing Society formed the core of the evening, with a mixture of existing poetry and the students’ own work being recited, there were other participants too. The Dramatic Society duo of Sebastiao Rodrigo and Matthew Van Rooyen performed the classic John Cleese/Rowan Atkinson) comedy sketch “Bee-keeping” which was uproariously funny. The music was provided by Lloyd May, whose superb guitar playing skills kept the audience on the edge of their seats. The King Edward VII Choral Society also performed a few numbers including a poetry-song integration number.

A very special thanks has to go to two very special ladies. Firstly, Mrs Mania for organizing the evening and Ms Maneli, for helping with the planning of the evening, especially with the Writing Society. The success of the evening has to be attributed to everyone who took part.

Finally thank you to our founder Ivan Webb. We will try and keep true to your vision. This is your dream we are living! Goodbye to you, Ivan and our rapping poet, SImphiwe Msweli. We wish you good luck for the future and don’t stop writing. Thank you both for all your inspiration, perspiration and assistance over the years.

Report by: M Jenner