Sea Soup

Have you ever had a week which left you tired yet thoroughly satisfied? Don't those weeks often feel the best? Not when you're going through them sometimes, but at the end. That pretty much describes my week. On Tuesday I had a Probability test (what are the chances of me failing?). It went well - if you had studied. I knew what the questions were asking and how I should answer them. So by the end of it all (because I'm sure you don't want to know anything else about it) I've realised that Probability Theory is not the ugly monster that lies under my bed.

Then Wednesday came. I came to school in a light blue dress shirt, black slacks and black shoes with blue and black checkered socks. As I burst open the door of the lecture theatre it went silent and the teacher stopped. Ok that didn't really happen (I think) but it was a shock for some people. The buzz among the crowd was that I had a presentation that day; and I did. The shock wore off as more people dressed in black and blue (like a bruised eye) burst open the door in similar fashion (no pun intended). After the lecture, the men in the group donned their ties - striped, dotted and solid (you can guess which type I was) - and the females set up the equipment and we huddled. With legs and hands shaking we began.

My group was known as the trouble group. Firstly, we were referred to as "the guys in the back" by the lecturer (never a good sign). And if that was not bad enough, we took the liberty to be the only students who asked questions about other groups' presentation, breaking the unwritten law of UWI, "don't ask me, won't ask you". Last week we were snapped at by one of the groups who let us know quite frankly that if we had read the case we would not have been asking such stupid questions (blast us for paying attention).

I guess the measure of a presentation is crowd response. We began by showing a re-enactment of the case as was written. The crowd did not laugh or move strangely enough but we continued. We presented and presented and ended with a video depicting the proposed results of our recommendations. Then the question we were so eagerly awaiting came..."Does anyone have any questions?" I'll attribute no vile motive to her but the same girl who made it clear that we should have read the case put up her hand. I guess the mark of a good presentation is when the teacher comes to your rescue. Yes, the lecturer said, "Going back to what Rachel (one of the members) said..." After being questioned on our core problem, which the teacher disagreed on, the presentation ended and we gave each other hi-5's, hi-4's, took pictures and took off our ties.

On Friday I made my debut as a poet (by the farthest stretch of the imagination)...oh wait no. There was a talent day at UCCF and I performed a piece. (Inquire within).

So I came home on Friday quite tired and went to sleep. I woke up on Saturday and drove to another group meeting, and ran some errands. Tired from my week and journey, when I got home I headed straight for the kitchen. "There's food here?" I asked my mother. "Well...daddy made soup for himself and two other people," she replied. Confused, I went to the big pot expecting to see a very small portion of food in it. As the steam rose from the uncovered pot I jumped back. I stepped closer. I put my head over the....pot and peered intensely while my mother chucked in the background. I looked to her for some salvation. "What is this?" I asked as she tilted her head and smiled as if to say "see what I mean?"

Now I love my dad. He's a good man, an ok basketballer, a bad singer and a terrible cook. After looking at his "sea soup" I've come to understand that it doesn't take many cooks to spoil the broth. There's a poem I learnt as a child which aptly described his dish.

"Water has no taste at all

Water has no smell.

And if we use it in fish soup

It stays the same as well."

According to him, it was supposed to be that colour but I begged to differ. (It still didn't explain where the taste went.lol)