Gotta Go, Gotta See
June 9, 2006
So much is happening here. I’ll try to keep it all straight.
We have found a kindred spirit in Wimpie. He is always eager to try something new. We suggest ideas and he usually goes for them. On my birthday in May we loaded up his rig at seven in the morning and headed off to climb a rock. It took us about forty-five minutes over rough roads to get to the starting place. Once there we parked the car at the base of an escarpment and started climbing.
It was a fairly easy scramble over the rocks and through the weeds. In less then an hour we were at the top, gazing at the surrounding countryside. Our reason for choosing this spot was a rock; a big rock, a roadrunner rock. It hangs precariously balanced on the edge of the escarpment. It appears as if a strong push would knock it over.
We hung out at the top, took some pictures, climbed down and went home. Upon our return we were sweating profusely so we jumped in the pool for a swim before our regular nap.
A week later we headed out to the quarry. This was a midday trip. We loaded up food and beverages and headed off to Yatela, instructions in hand.
Yatela is a smaller mine run by the same company as the Sadiola mine. It is about a forty minute drive from our house. Nestled right in the middle of the mine, surrounded by berms, is a big hole full of water. At one time they may have quarried rock out of it for some reason or another, although no two people ever give the same story. Today it is stocked with fish and lies waiting behind a locked gate for folks to come along and enjoy it.
We got a little turned around trying to find the place and ended up taking a nice tour of the settling piles. The Yatela mine, as it turns out, uses a different system for leaching the gold out of the rock. They dig a hole and load the dirt onto a conveyor belt. This belt runs a tremendous distance to a big clearing. Here there are large plastic pads where the earth is deposited. When the mountain of dirt reaches the desired height, they spray it with a cyanide mixture. This mixture percolates through the soil, capturing the gold as it goes. When it gets to the mat it runs down to a sluiceway that carries it to the plant. There the gold is separated from the cyanide, poured into gold bars and shipped. The mountains remain where they stand for eternity.
Anyway, back to the quarry. There’s a large braai area and a beautiful pool of water. We stayed for most of the day; swimming, eating, and chatting. Hanging out there was like being transported somewhere else for a whole day. We went back again the following weekend, this time without Wimpie. In his place were two families.
One of the families has a daughter slightly younger than Zachary as well as a newborn. The other has two girls, one in Carrie’s class and one in mine. In class my student is a chatterbox. When I see her on the weekends, however, she won’t even say boo. It must be odd to bump into your teacher everywhere you go.
Speaking of class; the school increased by three students this week. Three girls from New Guinea arrived last week, starting school on Monday. Needless to say it has been a long week, trying to assess their skills, work on our year-end program, and keep the other students motivated. I remember now, this is more what a real classroom is like. Did it have to happen in the last month of school?
MJR
So much is happening here. I’ll try to keep it all straight.
We have found a kindred spirit in Wimpie. He is always eager to try something new. We suggest ideas and he usually goes for them. On my birthday in May we loaded up his rig at seven in the morning and headed off to climb a rock. It took us about forty-five minutes over rough roads to get to the starting place. Once there we parked the car at the base of an escarpment and started climbing.
It was a fairly easy scramble over the rocks and through the weeds. In less then an hour we were at the top, gazing at the surrounding countryside. Our reason for choosing this spot was a rock; a big rock, a roadrunner rock. It hangs precariously balanced on the edge of the escarpment. It appears as if a strong push would knock it over.
We hung out at the top, took some pictures, climbed down and went home. Upon our return we were sweating profusely so we jumped in the pool for a swim before our regular nap.
A week later we headed out to the quarry. This was a midday trip. We loaded up food and beverages and headed off to Yatela, instructions in hand.
Yatela is a smaller mine run by the same company as the Sadiola mine. It is about a forty minute drive from our house. Nestled right in the middle of the mine, surrounded by berms, is a big hole full of water. At one time they may have quarried rock out of it for some reason or another, although no two people ever give the same story. Today it is stocked with fish and lies waiting behind a locked gate for folks to come along and enjoy it.
We got a little turned around trying to find the place and ended up taking a nice tour of the settling piles. The Yatela mine, as it turns out, uses a different system for leaching the gold out of the rock. They dig a hole and load the dirt onto a conveyor belt. This belt runs a tremendous distance to a big clearing. Here there are large plastic pads where the earth is deposited. When the mountain of dirt reaches the desired height, they spray it with a cyanide mixture. This mixture percolates through the soil, capturing the gold as it goes. When it gets to the mat it runs down to a sluiceway that carries it to the plant. There the gold is separated from the cyanide, poured into gold bars and shipped. The mountains remain where they stand for eternity.
Anyway, back to the quarry. There’s a large braai area and a beautiful pool of water. We stayed for most of the day; swimming, eating, and chatting. Hanging out there was like being transported somewhere else for a whole day. We went back again the following weekend, this time without Wimpie. In his place were two families.
One of the families has a daughter slightly younger than Zachary as well as a newborn. The other has two girls, one in Carrie’s class and one in mine. In class my student is a chatterbox. When I see her on the weekends, however, she won’t even say boo. It must be odd to bump into your teacher everywhere you go.
Speaking of class; the school increased by three students this week. Three girls from New Guinea arrived last week, starting school on Monday. Needless to say it has been a long week, trying to assess their skills, work on our year-end program, and keep the other students motivated. I remember now, this is more what a real classroom is like. Did it have to happen in the last month of school?
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 8:16 PM
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