St Dominic’s Yearbook 2021

CREATIVE WRITING Think of Flying Ambiguity: Life Changes Find your rhythm, Stillness, no wind rustling Through the brilliant green leaves A fine line between too fast and too slow Simply, a choir of migrating birds, sit back and wait, A painting of the brain’s count your strides, Perfect chaos; a poem of wordless thoughts… 3 between the two jumps. A distraction from my emptiness and confusion The world disappears, and its only you and him. A feeling of living He takes off, clearing the jump with room to spare But merely existing, surviving the world falls away, Retreating: and for a brief moment you are completely free, I join the birds, blissfully weightless and find an uneasy peace – Land, one, two, three… There’s no time to doubt him, and why would you? Adrienne Shortt He launches into the air, and the two of you are untouchable You are flying. Paige Dolman Untitled Poem Where Shall I Breathe I held out a hand hoping you’d grab it… I was drowning. With dense fabrics enveloping my air ways, where shall I grasp for The bittersweet look of revenge air? Was written on your face. Trapped in an asphyxiating bubble, And as I lost touch, the claws of anxiety and fear draw me in so near. Final breath taken… Suffocating each time I inhale. You pulled me back up. Holding my breath, “It’s the last time I save you from yourself.” Sanitiser stripping the skin off my hands. Yes, this is deemed healthy Asanda Mazibuko It is saving man! Colour between the lines Before entry one must now fill in a questionnaire And learn that dawn only brings a new struggle. “Colour between the lines”, I hear it say. Praying desperately that our loved ones stay clear. “Perfection is key!”, It says even louder. Trapped, lonely, in my 2m jail. The grip on my pencil tightens- Hiding from death, The countdown begins. staying in our own land My spirit bears witness -begging me to set it free, Yes, this is deemed healthy Free from Perfection and Its imprisonment It is saving man! Free from Perfection and Its insanity. They say acceptance is the only cure for this disease. Churches now closed, no place for prayer. I ought to fly No hospital beds for even those who are in trouble But no bird has ever tasted the sky with clipped wings. It’s in the ground, the air, in me, I fear. “Colour between the lines.” Fighting for air, we become frail. Inhaling my own breath, Casey Norton I forget all my plans. Yes, this is deemed healthy World Killer It is saving man! We thought that we could contain her. We Are Living, we NEED fresh air! Masks on. Foggers and sprays in hand. We don’t need a world filled with heaps of contaminated rubble. 99% effective. Our dominance was guaranteed. As humans we need comfort, to hold our families near. And remember that good has the power to prevail. Oh, but that one percent! Open your soul, fill it with new breath. She plagued on our weakest Enjoy a sports match from the stands. And built her army out of them But… this is not healthy. She took down all our lines of defence It will Kill Man. Severed most of our communication Tayla Barrett She isolated us in our camps Stripped us over every ounce of our liberty! Confined, malfunctioning and beaten All we could do was sit back and watch as Our beloved first-world tanker turned to scrap; in a moment of ignorance. Seyuri Naicker

Dear Descendants CREATIVE WRITING Gone As your ancestor, Only a moment before you are gone. I have planted seeds for your future A sensation of numbness You are the seeds, the future, our bloodlines’ future, crawls down the spine; Seeds that have been sown in good soil it is stage 4. I have watered you with aspirations, values Versatile. And wisdom. Invincible. The sunlight shines bright for you and your future A midget-sized beast I need you to bloom better than those before you consumes the live victim Bloom brighter and larger for those before you who until there is only skin and bone. Had to bloom without good soil and sunlight. Death You are your ancestors’ wildest dream. in the form of the living latching to its host with Onthatile Talane tentacles designed to kill. Failed treatments. Death by Roast Sleepless nights. Cries of pain. Drumming her fingers mindlessly After that… Lost in her own thoughts Gone And surrounded by a foreign silence Something uncommon in her household Cassandra Hanscombe The aroma of honeyed roast cracking from the oven Accompanied by vegetables and the smell of garlic bread hangs in Je veux juste être heureux* the air like a stubborn toddler I am tired. Yet nothing seems to be right Tired of what you may ask? Ah, there it is I am tired of pretending like I’m not falling apart, The familiar pounding against the wall. I am tired of feeling hurt, He’s home. He’s angry. I am tired of blaming myself, I am tired of being my own enemy and The silence fills with her deafening scream I am tired of feeling like the world is slowly coming to an end. His hand enveloping her throat, I am tired. Taking its usual place I am tired of hiding the truth cause I know He squeezes. that it can hurt you. And I am tired of doing things that keep on As the air flows from her lungs causing me pain. Their eyes lock, an unmissable interaction And I am tired of feeling this way, cause I just want to be happy. Unlike others, her life did not flash before her eyes *I just want to be happy Her mind wanders, walking aimlessly Until it comes back Mwayi Gwaza Making the man in front of her the focal point of her existence His breathing staggers, his heart slows Cogito, Ergo Sum Struggling to keep him alive As he stares down, seeing the deathly weapon ‘To be’ The cause of his agony.             ‘To be’                         ‘To be’ It’s when he takes his last breath that she takes her first Says my heart, as if to remind me that I’m living What little regret she has Feather and silver keeps hearts pumping I have created more than God Disappears in flames Ink is man’s living religion Fog consuming her daughter and herself as they escape             I think therefore I am Where there is smoke             I write therefore it lives Man has the power to build their own world There is fire. Only some will stand atop the tallest tower, Watch their nation rise from the tattooed page Xolile Fry With my liquid religion, I shall step off the tower with no fear of Death. The vulnerable brain Because with my hands I can compose wings With my feathers, I soar to the heavens I am a complex place of destiny containing limitless intrinsic dimen- with no fear of God. sions With a page for armour and a pen for a sword;             and, yet at times, I feel betrayed and unappreciated! I am God. My competition lies with the heart. The coarseness of a message: Ruby Healing its tension and intention slowly influences my perception of character. After all, real character is key. And yet, the dismal realisation arises that my relationship is simply like an hourglass. As the heart fills up, I, the brain, empty out! Megan Bishop

ART Adrienne Shortt Adrienne Shortt Adrienne Shortt Gershara Rajkumar

Paige Clarke Siphiwe Okhule Pangwa Paige Clarke Letlotlo Komane

Geneiva Ackermann Siphiwe Okhule Pangwa Vin-Nola Ground Paige Clarke Vin-Nola Ground

Lyndle Williams Nontyantyambo Sikali Letlotlo Komane Nontyantyambo Sikali

GRADE 12 GRADE 12 GRADE 12





MATRIC Valedictory Mass The bells in our iconic bell tower ring for the final time for our Matric girls after their Valedictory Mass. As they walk through the guard of honour with the sound of ringing bells, an array of emotions pulse through our school. May God bless our Matric Class of 2021.

Matric Farewell A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM













INDIVIDUAL PICTURES

GRADE 12A Courtney Stride Kelly Spencer Caitlin Richter Claire Olsen Nokhwezi Nqeketo Davvinah Mujati Bokamoso Mphahlele Dimphonyana Mokoena Nokuphila Mbentse Margaret Mbatha Jordan Kobrin Danae Kellett Samukelisiwe Dube Isabella Domiter Andreia Carvalho Tshegofatso Moalosi Jessica Pita Jessica Crawford

GRADE 12B Katlego Tshabalala Thato Peete Favour Nwogbo Kelebogile Moshugi Rethabile Mokhitli Kate Black Shumani Malaka Precious Madlala Jordyn Lee Emma Green Bianca Ferreirinha Makayla Dos Reis Marina Da Costa Celesté Lewis Onalenna Mokoto Tisunge Gumbi

GRADE 12C Gabriella Teixeira Olivia Smargiasso Kayla Richardson Zinhle Phiri Caitlyn O’Hara Shakira Naidu Rethabile Mohlala Kyla McDonald Ncumisa Mazaka Olebogeng Matlala Rutendo Masango Mukhethwa Manyabe Lesedi Maleho Daniella Lilje Sydney Holroyd Ashleigh Drummond Nikita Azevedo Farelanani Makatu

GRADE 12D Unathi Nkomo Teagan Robinson Tayla Ashton Sibusisiwe Ziqubu Palesa Skosana Pabala Mahlatsi Ntokozo Mkhize Nicole Ruhaya Lwazi Mthambama Lucy Msiska Lisa Mwewa Kim Fine Khanyi Mbele Kaylyn Leach Katja De Freitas Jade Smuts Chaeli Fisher Busisiwe Ndlovu

CREATIVE WRITING

BLOG THIS IS MY VOICE SILENCE Olivia Smargiasso Gr 12 By Sydney Holroyd on June 2021 29:15a.m. (S.A.C.E.E. Individual Speaker – Speech) Books and words have always been a central part of my life. I base much of my happiness on stories and the entire plains of existence Larengix glaucitis they can build around us. My love of reading started at a young age; Et max laryngitis it stretches past what my memory can hold. There have been many La voce to me libraries I’ve entered and in which I have found a home. The first What I want from you one, is the Boksburg Public Library. I remember my mother taking is - your voice. me every week, in her ever-cold, purple car. The library was always empty – something my timid soul found delightful. I recall taking out I feel that in this last year, Ursula the Sea Witch from Disney’s Little a specific children’s Bible and renewing it over and over again (a habit Mermaid arrived with the SARS-2 virus and asked for my voice. I carried through to rental DVDs as well). My mother eventually told The COVID-19 pandemic mutated so much of the world we knew; it me to give it back, as someone else might also enjoy it or need it. So, amplified the environmental crisis and magnified the socio-economic I eventually did – rather begrudgingly. divide. My climate change heroine, Greta Thurnburg, had overcome her selective mutism to speak out, but the language of the pandemic Another library I paid many visits to, is the one at my school (granted, was stand down, not up. Despite this as lockdowns switched off everyone was made to visit the library in a certain period each cycle). employment across the globe, voices rose in volume. The world was However, I found myself drawn there even after the novelty (if you’ll not only infected by the virus, but by racism and ethnic exclusion. It excuse the pun) had worn off for everyone else. I took out as many was not a good time to hand over my voice. books were allowed, and would go home and read them with, and to, anyone who would listen. It was not just the books and words About 100 000 years ago the human mouth began getting smaller, towering around me, that pulled me to the library…much like in the the neck longer and the tongue more flexible. Then, with our first library, I enjoyed that it was quiet… incredible, accurate breath control, we could string sounds into words and sentences. The evolution of our language sets us above the For some reason, I have always loved deliberate, written words, over animal hastily picked, spoken words. Reading became more than simply an world. It allows an infinitely intricate communication system which escape on the floors of the library – it became a sort of meditation, a should bind us with common purpose. Alas, it can just as easily be silent prayer, an entirely other-worldly experience. I often used to sit used to pull us apart. When the BLM movement started last year, I felt on the floor to read, throughout my childhood. I sat on the floor of the excluded – as if it was assumed that black book section in the CNA, reading for far longer than any of the other lives could not matter to me – a white, privileged South African. customers (and my family) would have liked. This did not stop in All around the world I saw images of one of the largest multiracial libraries either. I would find the smallest corner and curl up to read… movements ever seen, protesting discrimination and violence against much like one might sit in a pew in an empty church to pray. It was black people. Yet in South African schools, the protest was not almost, as if I was thanking God for every word that His children had multiracial. written… Journalist and political commentator Kim Heller is probably not a likely role model for me. In her book, ‘No White Lies’, she decries the rainbow nation as a grand illusion. Ms Heller, who was the first elected Deputy Secretary of Gauteng for the EFF, writes vitriolically of ongoing white privilege. She would have no sympathy for me feeling excluded in post- apartheid South Africa. My hackles rise and fall as I read her essays and I realise my biggest weakness is not that I do not care enough but that I do not understand enough. The challenge is: where does this leave me, a white South African teen? I thought I could be a valuable citizen of this land. But can I? If my black peers believe that I still need to makereparations for the unacceptable atrocities of colonialism and aparthheid, and my contributions are perceived as not enough, then what should I do? Thandika – not her real name – explains why she chose to give up a prestigious scholarship to one of JHB’s oldest schools. “Each day when I arrived at school,” she explained, “I felt I had to leave myself at the school gate”. It seemed even the Herbert Baker buildings told her she did not belong there. Thandika admits that she was not actually discriminated against at the heritage school, but she could not find her voice. Her words ring loudly in my ears. I too, have to leave myself at the school gate. I too, feel I cannot have a voice – that it would not be accepted. I get to raise my voice now in this monologue. But what we need, what South African youth needs, is dialogue: You talk, I listen; I talk, you listen. We all should heed the advice of Mama Africa, Miriam Makeba: “Be careful, think about the effect of what you say. Your words should be constructive, bring people together, not pull them apart”. As my vocal cords stretch and relax, my voice will tell the world I care. I live in a country still divided: the hads and had nots; the haves and have nots. I want to listen, and learn, and speak, and do. I am Youth. I am white. I am South African. And this is my voice.

GREEN IS THE TRUEST COLOUR Then my brother, with his glinting and watery silver eyes, and his fidgeting hands that always had to be held. A stranger, too, emerges Nikita Azevedo from the clod, hollow light of the other side of the room and squeezes past the withering sofa, scraping the battered wood, leaving dust to I am solitary as grass. My eyelids are heavy. I stare at everything from settle like sand. What is it that I am missing? my secret hiding place – lolling – and it’s safe here. I have always liked how the whirling colours pulsate and settle on my eyelids. What colour All is strange. The stranger is wreathed in red: a red that hurts my eyes, is that? Fracturing green, blooming against the flickering. My eager, like the wine in the carafe. A silly hat; rubber boots with tops folded little hands blindly reach out in desperation – crawling, clawing – and down. A weak clump of fluff limply clutches to his face, obscuring it. they brace as they apprehend the barren cloth of a back cushion, its I wonder at this spectacle, startled, and confused. Is this the chubby, fine sand getting caught under my nails, stretching and irritating. A good-natured man I had been sending my letters to? It is only the grainy wooden lattice, desert pillows, places sunken in – in memory of morning before Christmas eve, and I had forgotten to leave some those who got lost in this light meadow – and her I sit in my wandering cookies and milk out. From a distance, he gives the impression of solitude on this crumpling, faded sofa. solidity, but the closer he gets, the more he becomes fragmented light and motes pieced together. Distinct lines on his forehead, a The light jostles around the room as the pond in this clearing – a table furrowing brow. It is what is in his eyes that I recognise: tearful and that reflects –. strives after it. Bottles, pictures and a carafe: a blind stern, my father’s eyes have always glowed a fading blue, like that of glass. This space has a pulse. Four walls, cakey and bone-white but the denim that hangs from my shoulders and settles by my bruised peeling and flaking like dry blood of an old wound, heal in the pure knees – losing colour. Nothing is strange. He pulls me out of the soft sunlight. Like honey, the amber swelters and melts through the picture tufts of this meadow and holds me carefully, as if I was the carafe frame on the wall into this side of the room, fresh and sweet-smelling. on the countertop. A camera appears. A burst of light. Sleepy clouds It gets stuck between my baby teeth. It sticks to my eyelashes, blinding, roll in through the frame, obscuring the field. Light is capsized. I hold warming me under its weight. Everything is stained with light. I am summer in my mouth like a pearl, gently suckling. From now on, the stained with light. days are as bright as that red. And you; I dream of you in that field of blue… Distant laughter – you flicker too, but I cannot touch you. You come in waves, like the field of blue buried in light wherein I had witnessed an No matter how many nights I spend staying up and replaying the angel fall among the few quaint sailboats (that blue line that wavers, days of my childhood in my mind – a futile attempt to unsheathe an framed and hung on the cakey wall). The same field of blue that had overarching meaning – the images are always granular; unintelligible. grabbed at my tender feet earlier, that had made my unhurt knees buckle This serves as a constant reminder of how harsh and oppressive in, and that rocked me in its arms when I had fallen, baptising me for a reality is. Do I try to piece bits of broken glass together or do I glue while. The laughter crashes into the room now, filling these four walls, them in the arrangement of the smash? I have often wondered, what is fizzling onto the white, glazed, ceramic tiles. The full spectrum now it that I am longing for? Is it a person or a feeling? Perhaps I wish to be enters with a harsh clarity, every colour illuminating as I shyly leave clean again; to be submerged in the sweet, forgetful waters of that blue my hiding spot. My mother wears a smile when she catches my eye; field – of that haunting dream. To quote Margaret Atwood: it is as soft as the wool of her favourite white, knitted sweater with the tender buttons. Her body haloes in the light. She cradles four walls in “You don’t look back along time but down through it, like water.” her arms as gently as she cradles me – as she cradles everything – but Different things may come afloat, but nothing will ever go away. The these walls are light and paper-thin, covered festively with snowflakes yearning that always yanks at my heart is starting to look like a game and silly, winged teddy bears. of tug-of-war, that I’m willingly losing. HOME SWEET HOME Favour Nwogbo Christmas in Nigeria is one like no other. The joy of celebrating with When next my eyes fall open, I am greeted by magnificent greenery: friends and family consumes my mind and creates a tingling sensation a forest of tall, lush trees lines the sides of the wide freeway. A sweet, in my stomach. My cheeks ache from grinning ear to ear at the sight surrendering scent of moist, morning dew cascades down the sublime of all my Christmas presents under the olive-green Christmas tree: forest. Sounds of chirping birds and swishing green leaves create a my eyes are enthralled by the marvelous display of blinding lights soothing melody. From the open window, a cool breeze tickles my wrapped around it. Mom has done an amazing job of transforming chubby cheeks like a delicate feather. The tranquility of Mother our dull, Lagos apartment into a Christmas wonderland. After admiring Nature’s beauty excites me – and I know that my village is nearby. the splendour of the festivities in Lagos, we set out on an odyssey to my native village of Enuagu, in eastern Nigeria. My five-year old self is We arrive in front of a large, lilac-coloured house surrounded by an buzzing with excitement – I am too energetic to sit still in the car for immaculate garden: “Grandma’s Castle”, as I like to call it. The laughter the nine-hour journey. of playing children echoes in the air and swirls with the aroma of flavourful spices. An assembly of excited family members emerges The Lagos traffic is exhausting – there is no movement at all – we from the wide, wooden door of the house. I am engulfed by all their are practically parked in a crammed road, surrounded by thousands of hugs and kisses. Finally, an elderly woman emerges with a smile from hooting vehicles. The yellow bus in front revs its engine and blue smoke ear to ear, her face beautifully creased with soft wrinkles. I am lost in shoots through the open window, sawing into my sinuses. The car’s air her embrace and indulge in the aura of love and affection all around conditioning is not functioning and it’s too hot to close the windows, me. It truly feels good to be home. so I sit there, coughing and almost retching, semi-blind from the poorly burnt diesel. An orchestra of brash reverberations is battering into my head. We are being sucked into a painfully slow maelstrom of metal as the traffic builds up even further. A tightly woven ring of vehicles shows each driver displaying the long term, tactical awareness of a chess grand master: seizing every emerging inch of road and adroitly manoeuvring to any advantage only they can perceive. E hausted, I doze off upon my mother’s lap, escaping into the serenity of my dreams.

COKE IN HAND AND DUNG IN THE AIR STEP BY STEP Unathi Nkomo Sydney Holroyd Our everyday soundtrack: the cockerels crowing, featuring the orchestra My first memory is completely dazzled by sunlight. It is of a sunny of birds leading in song and the deep moos of cows. The dangling of morning, about an hour or so before lunchtime. My mother is dancing my short, stumpy legs from my father’s shoulders, match the crackling the kitchen to the sounds of a sizzling pot, the singing of steam and of the ground beneath his feet, I look back: Mkhulu’s green house is the low bass of the television. I drag my still- sitting body out of the getting smaller and smaller. Looking forward, the mass of mahogany kitchen by my hands, pulling myself along the tiled floor – this way which houses the cattle, gets bigger and bigger. The crisp air suffers of scooting around is my preferred mode of transport, despite being an invasion from a sharp stench coming from the neat spirals of dung quite competent in the art of walking – into the long, bright passage. scattered across the glistening grass. My father tilts his shiny head and flashes me an amused smile as he feels my fat, tiny hands play a The sun falling in from the small, round skylights above me, is soaked beat on his head, as if it is a spherical drum. up by the soft, yellow colour painted onto the walls and thrown back out to my wide eyes – the eyes my mother can never seem to get We finally reach the kraal. From the top of the world on familiar close to at night (or at any time, truthfully). The cold floor is pressed shoulders, I am put down onto a hard seat that is anchored into the against my bare legs as I absorb my surroundings. A gentle breeze ground by geriatric roots. Father slowly opens the creaky log gate of side-steps past me and tickles at my skin like the material of a dress the kraal and a large brown creature, mooing in belonging to a passing adult. I can nearly taste the food that my pain, ambles out. Its planet-sized, brown eyeball meets my marble- mother is cooking, in the air around me. sized brown eye. A glint of worry appears in its eyes, while excitement wells up in mine. My chubby arms, flailing, fall short of the cow’s mouth. The front door is gaping open and a waterfall of light falls into the Then swiftly, with the lines of his forehead crinkled, my father shoots foyer, crashing onto the tiled floor. The sun is too bright for me to be me a look of caution. He comes a wall between me and the mooing able to see much beyond the front steps – only blinding white light animal. A sorrowful, startling sound makes my heartbeat faster – it is is there, instead of the black fence that separates our grass from the the cow! It must have a tummy ache like I did yesterday! I wonder what patch growing on the pavement. father will do to help it. My grandpa’s foot emerges from the dining room ahead and he walks The ground crackles as someone with a familiar face, approaches with through the doorway, a leather bag fit for his “important papers” held a cylindrical. shining, crystal instrument and a bottle of my mommy’s in his right hand. An old, scratchy, brown jersey is wrapped around his favourite drink, Coca-Cola! The black liquid takes the shape of the shoulders and torso, despite the heat hanging in the air – a sign that cylinder as it leaves the bottle – the familiar face passes the crystal he’s going somewhere reasonably important. cylinder with bubbling, black liquid to my father. Father does something that makes me cross my eyebrows – he is making the cow His wrist is nearly at a right angle as he holds the file, as if he needs drink the Coke! I want to ask why but my little tongue lags like a slow to keep himself as narrow as possible in order to pass through a thick internet connection an I cannot articulate what I wish to ask. He sees crowd. His eyes follow the ground as he walks, head bowed, with the perplexed look on my face and simply says in a cheerful voice, “It tanned arms swinging rhythmically at his sides. has a painful tummy: Coke helps.” I look at him and reveal my gums and few teeth in amusement. It is off to eating wet grass for my friend, The way my grandfather walks, down those front steps leading from the Coke-drinking cow, and it is off to eating warm porridge for me. our patio to the garden, is always the same, even now. He turns his From father’s shoulders, I can see Mkhulu’s green house getting closer body slightly to the right, facing the garage and the cars, places his and closer… right foot on the front step, then the left one on the next one and then the right, on the ground. Then, he disappears beyond the wall. The old I do not see Mkhulu’s house often anymore. Things change but the leather pouch is the last thing sucked behind it. man dozing on the living room sofa does not change. He is still an unconventional problem-solver with a love for Coke. In this volatile My grandfather is and always has been a methodical man. There world, I am glad to have my walking-history- textbook of a father, always seems to be a formula in his mannerisms. His fondest mem- whom I can rely on to answer my calls without fail – and who can ories of childhood are filled with constructions made from scraps remain calm in tumultuous situations. In life, I crave the tranquility my scattered throughout his home – such as a sewerage ventilation father possesses and his problem-solving skills. I realise now that my pipe (which was still very much attached to the house, mind you) and actions mimic his. I always try to choose peace and gentleness. even gunpowder from the barrel of a firework. Even to this day, he He is to me, like Atticus Finch is to Scout. Till this day, I see the world can recall exactly how he made a small boat and a canon with which from his shoulders – not physically, but emotionally, he still carries me. to shoot it. He is resourceful, always finding a solution in the oddest Regularly, I say to him jokingly: he is a pillar of the community because places, even when it seems as though there’s nothing to be done. of his popularity. In reality, he is the very foundation on which I am built. I have always been someone who gets lost in life’s never-ending whirl- winds, attempting to conquer every hardship at once. My mind pulls me with it into places both dark and light, that I can never fathom or begin to describe. I am plunged and pulled and dragged in every direction at once, unable to deal with tasks at hand – for fear of not being able to push everything I have to offer into it. At times like that, when my mind threatens to run away with me, my arm in its vice grip, I am reminded of words that my grandfather, who, in all likelihood, doesn’t remember giving to me to hold: “Do it bit by bit… step by step.”

RELIGIOUS EDUCATION Grade 12 Retreat During March the Grade 12s participated in their annual retreat. The theme of the retreat was “Discernment”. As expected in a retreat the Grade 12s spent time meditating and reflecting. They also made a “Quality Bracelet” and since Palm Sunday was close, they made palm crosses. The retreat ended with an interesting and thought provoking presentation by Mr & Mrs Mateman and Sr Nontebeko, who discussed the importance of discernment for the Grade 12 as they move forward in life. At the beginning of their Grade 12 year, the students are asked to put into writing all their hopes, dreams and expectations for the year. The letter is sealed in an envelope and kept for them. Grade 12s pick up their letter at their Valedictory Mass when they can open it up again and see how far they have come in the Angel’s Mass Soon after completing the preliminary exams the Grade 12s celebrated the Angel’s Mass. Prior to the Covid-19 pandemic the tradition was that the Grade 12s were accompanied into the Jubilee Centre for the Mass with a Grade 1 girl. For the second year this was not possible. Instead the Grade 1s made a little Valedictory Mass The Grade 12s celebrated their very last School Mass with their parents at the Valedictory Mass. As he has done for more than 20 years Fr Chris once again celebrated the mass with the Grade 12s and their parents. Fr Chris encouraged the Grade 12s to go forward into the future with confidence knowing that God is with them at all times. For a link to our Valedictory Guard of Honour Video

MATRIC ART F rom Histories and Stories to Living Stilness... The grade 12 visual art students of 2021 out did Thank you for all the smiles, laughs, creativeness, themselves in their year work artworks and exam realness, re-enactments and the lengthy art drawings and in the words of their IEB examiner, debates, especially on conceptual art and so they are, ‘Superstars’! much more… It was an honour and a pleasure to walk this You are all going to do amazing and wonderful journey with my visual art students. To watch each things and with that I wish each and every one of of them formulate concepts and work on their you the best for what lies ahead. I am blessed for processes and ultimately the end product has having had you as my visual art class for 2021, and been nothing short of amazing, I am proud of each remember we will always have Pepino ฀ of my students, Nikita, Kelly, Makayla, Bianca, Caitlyn, Kate, Danae, Lucy and Storm, you each Ms Chantelle Sikic have pushed the boundaries of conceptual art and HOD Creative and Visual Arts created a platform for the issues that are close to your hearts, dealing with personal experiences , for a link to the Matric some uplifting concepts filled with memories and Art Exhibition Video some hard in your face issues we deal with on a daily basis, whether it was a cathartic process for you or not, you each gave it your best and you all came out on top and produced exceptional art!

ART Bianca FERREIRINHA

Caitlyn O'HARA

Kate BLACK

Danae KELLETT

Kelly SPENCER

Lucy MSISKA

Makayla DOS REIS

Nikita AZEVEDO

CULTURAL CULTURAL CULTURAL

CULTURE AT ST DOMINIC'S We have faced a lot of challenges since the Drama beginning of the pandemic. 2020 lockdown regulations forced us to put most of the activities in Our Drama Club emerged from online meetings - the Cultural Department on hold and music suffered performing from home and using videos - to the most, as we were not even allowed to use the interacting together outdoors. We learned a good musical instruments, even for learning purposes. This deal from recording our performances on video last year’s easing of regulations gave us an opportunity year and have implemented some of those lessons in to get back on our feet and start making music again, our socially distanced performance this year. We albeit with restrictions. have been filming the play Antigone in parts and look forward to completing our recording this year. We Music thank Pabala Mahlatsi who played Antigone and wish her well for university next year. The Drama Club has Our Grade 1-7 classes went back to doing class valued her consistency while navigating group work music and with the ten new marimbas bought this in these trying two years. The unpacking of the play’s year, it was easy to accommodate every learner themes and their relevance to our intended audience without compromising on covid protocols. The girls has resulted in many meaningful discussions. were allowed to start singing again with properly regulated social distancing. It has been I must congratulate the first group girls from Drama heartwarming to see how positive and committed Club to receive cultural awards in Dramatic Arts: the girls remained, despite the challenges. Lefentse Mokoena (Grade 11), Reabetswe Mobeng (Grade 10), Our senior steel band played at the Sounds of Kirtan Singh (Grade 10) and Celebration “Simunye, We Are One” concert again Lesedi Madiba (Grade 10). this year. The concert was online, giving us the I am proud of their commitment to their craft and look opportunity of reaching a much wider audience and forward to their continued contribution to the Drama collaborating with international performers such as Club. the Vienna Boys’ Choir, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Gregory Maqoma, Wouter Kellermann and the Public Speaking Solomon Brothers, just to name a few. Our girls gave an outstanding performance of, “Where is the love” When the year started with a Lockdown, we by The Black-Eyed Peas. wondered whether the Public Speaking teams would be able to compete with other schools. However, The Grade 11 marimba band was invited to perform SACEE was determined to go ahead and so, our at the French International School Cultural teams busied themselves with the various topics Celebration in Pretoria. It was a great honour to be assigned. This was difficult enough: we initially invited to such an esteemed event. Our marimba couldn’t practise at school (imagine trying to band gave such a wonderful performance. We also coordinate teams online!) and once we had the entered two of our marimba bands for the online official go-ahead, further Lockdown restrictions International Marimba and Steelpan Festival this ensued! SACEE decided to run the competition in the year. following way: Teams or Individual Speakers had to say their speeches on video (only one take!) and RIP Mr Francois Bourguenon upload it by a specific date and time. SACEE adjudicators would watch these and mail the results. It was with great sadness that we mourn the passing In term 3, we were able to organise an Internal Public of our violin teacher Mr. Francois Speaking event which consisted of Impromptu Bouguenon. He was a brilliant speeches and a Prepared Speech section. Mrs Pat musician and violinist and a very Fanucchi presided over the judging, and it was lovely popular teacher. Rest in peace Mr. B, to have a (small) audience, lots of participation and a you will be missed by all the face-to-face adjudication! Thank you to all the girls musicians, friends, and students who took part. You overcame the obstacles and did whose lives you have touched. us proud!

CULTURE AT ST DOMINIC'S Three of our public speakers: Lefentse Mokoena, Choir Tayla Barrett and Reabetswe Mobeng, delivered a poem at the Sounds of Celebration concert. The Choir has been one of the most challenging to poem was paraphrased from former President maintain as a result of Covid restrictions on choral Thabo Mbeki’s speech, “I am an African” and the singing. In spite of these difficulties, we held girls gave a brilliant performance. Thank you to auditions at the start of the year and welcomed new Mrs Rasenyalo for preparing these girls to perform members into the choir. Online choir practices took at such a high standard. They truly made us place when singing together in person was not proud. possible, and subsequent Grade choir rehearsals have made singing in person more rewarding. We Debating are very grateful to the Grade 11 choir members who so beautifully led the singing at our Angel’s Mass We are incredibly proud of our Junior speakers and Valedictory Mass. Their singing of Bawo Wethu who competed in multiple friendly debates as a Communion reflection was particularly sublime. throughout the year. Some interesting motions This group of girls also recorded a gorgeous were raised such as: “This House Believes that rendition of the Dominican Magnificat in our school social movements should prioritize calling in chapel and made a recording of the National problematic individuals and behaviours, rather Anthem in their Heritage Day outfits. Thank you to than calling them out”. We were also privileged to Ms Makgato and Ms Mofokeng for their invaluable compete in the Woman’s Day Tournament, where help with the choir this year. In conclusion, we take we were able to discuss the rights of women, this opportunity to say a fond farewell and thank you feminism, as well as vaccination rights and to our beloved matrics and to our Choir leader, responsibilities for all. Intense arguments were Caitlin Richter. We wish them all the very best in the sustained throughout the weekend, and whilst not final exams and in their chosen paths for next year. all debates were won, the St Dominic’s team May God always hold them in the palm of His hand. certainly did not go down without a sound, argumentative fight. The Senior debaters Media competed in an online Modern United Nations SAIIA competition, where teams of three girls were After the challenges of Covid and the closing of the required to become the delegations of assigned Media Centre to all learners last year, it was very countries. satisfying to reopen to learners for borrowing books, printing and photocopying again this year. Every year we add to our Media Centre by buying new books, and a Suggestion Box is now available for learners to suggest suitable titles and authors. Each suggestion is vetted for its suitability and several suggestions have already made it to our bookshelves. This year, in addition to having books in Afrikaans, English and Zulu, we have started to broaden our range to include literature in some of the other eleven official languages. This is a project which we would like to develop, and we look forward to receiving suggestions in our Suggestion Box. Neville Smith HEAD OF CULTURE

Culture

Ballet There is a saying that goes – Life is ironic, it takes sadness to know happiness, noise to appreciate silence, and absence to value presence. We can certainly relate to this after the past ten months! Life as we knew it was to change dramatically. Who would have thought that dance could be transported to the comfort of your own home? A virtual dance studio was about to be born. From Google Meet codes, to using chairs as barres, we adapted quickly to this strange new “normal”. Perhaps it is in our artistic make-up. The show must go on! The benefit of being at home for our junior dancers was the opportunity for them to dress up in costumes and dance with props. In 2019 we competed on the international stage with several of our ballet students representing South Africa at the Dance World Cup Finals in Portugal. What an amazing experience! Unfortunately, the 2020 competition was postponed due to Covid but we had students participate virtually in July 2021, in the DWC Finals which was held live in Telford, UK. After an abrupt end to live performances and theatrical events, it was so lovely to see our students dance onstage again, at the East Rand Dance Festival in September. East Rand Dance Competition Results (Top 3 Placements): SET DANCE SOLO 1st place – Moraswi Sekele (A+) SET DANCE SOLO 2nd place - Nicole Smith (A) CLASS DANCE SOLO 1st place - Erin Doyle (A+) CLASS DANCE SOLO 1st place - Angelina McIntyre (A+) CLASS SET DANCE SOLO 1st place - Abigail Sandwell (A+) DEMI CHARACTER SOLO 1st - Abigail Sandwell (A) CLASS DANCE SOLO 2nd - Amy Parker (A) CLASS SET DANCE SOLO 2nd place - Peyton Thomas (A) This year marked a very special milestone for Quaywake, with two students who enrolled in their first year of Pre School (Grade 000) completing their Grade 12 year and still dancing with us. Caitlin Richter and Pabala Mahlatsi it has been a privilege to be part of your school journey and we are so proud of your accomplishments. Thank you for the special memories. As we complete another year of hybrid learning, we look forward with faith and hope to 2022. Thanks to our Parents and St Dominic’s Management Team and Staff for your continued support throughout a tumultuous two years. The Arts kept the global community entertained and uplifted during the pandemic. Incredible works have been created as a result of being confined to our homes. It has certainly made us realise its value for our physical, mental, and emotional wellbeing. Carmen Whyte

SPORT SPORT SPORT

Sport

SWIMMING As the 2021 year started Schools went straight into Lockdown restrictions. School swimming was not allowed for the first six months of the year. Girls returned to the pool with a lot of excitement and enthusiasm and were straight back into the early morning routine of being in the pool by 05:45. Of course the stalwart figures of Mrs. Cullen and Mr. Marshall were there to drive, push and encourage all the girls. Unfortunately the Inter High Prestige Swimming Gala did not take place during 2021 but fortunately Schools from the different regions have managed to arrange some friendly gala’s to take place. 2021 has been a year of rebuilding our swimming team and the Coaches are very excited to have so many new faces around the pool. The Highlight of the 2021 Swimming year was being able to host LADDER 8 GALA | INDIVIDUAL AGE GROUP WINNERS the Ladder 8 Swimming Gala, only at the minute were spectators allowed and for a first time we were able to live stream this gala to all • Under 9 Ladder 8 Champion: Sofia De Freitas our Parents. For St Dominic’s this is a very special Gala as it brings the swimmers from both the Primary and High School together to • Under 10 Ladder 8 Champion: Kyra Winter compete at the same Gala. Trophies are awarded to a swimmer in each Grade that achieves the most points. • Under 11 Ladder 8 Champion: Paige Meeser Thank you to St Dominic’s, Mr Sandwell, Mr Marshall and Mrs. Cullen • Under 12 Ladder 8 Champion: Jessica McCamlie/Emma Harmzen for all the hard work and time you put into our Ducks. Thank you for making our swimming years at St Dominic’s so memorable. • Under 13 Ladder 8 Champion: Hayley Beling We encourage all our School swimmers to continue working hard • Under 14 Ladder 8 Champion: Tannah Lindsay and staying committed to Swimming. • Under 15 Ladder 8 Champion: Amy Robson-Garth • Under 16 Ladder 8 Champion: Alex Fry • Open Ladder 8 Champion: Sydney Munks Taylor Ashton (Captain) Congratulation to the New Record Holders: Skyla de Freitas (Vice-Captain) • Amy Robson-Garth u/14 (1 Record): 50m Breaststroke Junior Iron Lady Champion: Hayley Beling Senior Iron Lady Champion: Amy Robson-Garth/Tannah Lindsay

HOCKEY Hockey, just like every other sport, had a lot of stops and starts throughout the year with COVID-19 bringing a lot of uncertainty through the months. The normal outdoor season had an excitement building after a year away from the turf, with the girls all looking to get back to where they had left off. Unfortunately, a few days before our first match, COVID-19 brought an end to the outdoor season -- but not giving up, we looked towards building the indoor season which was scheduled for later in the year. With only conditioning training allowed at school level, most of our hockey players turned towards participating in Club and the newly launched Franchise Hockey leagues. Restrictions and legislation in these areas allowed for hockey to take place. Lots of experience was gained by all the players that participated in these mini leagues and tournaments. Early into the third Term, the go-ahead was given to all sports and it was decided to extend the Hockey season into the third term. A Junior and Senior team were entered into the Eastern Gauteng Indoor league, as well as the Parktown ‘Hockey Fast 5s’ tournament. Both St Dominic’s teams did exceptionally well, ending on top of their respective sections in the Parktown Fast 5 Tournament and winning the Eastern Gauteng Indoor leagues. I would like to thank Seth and Joshua Goodwin for all the hard work and dedication they have put into Hockey this year. Together, both of these coaches have gone out of their way to create more Hockey playing opportunities for the Girls of St Dominic’s. Parktown Girls which included teams such as Roedean, St Andrew’s and Trinity House was really exciting for the girls with 5s being a new format introduced to most of the girls. Our Junior side finished off undefeated winning every game and the Seniors lost only one of they 4 games played. The girls have continued training as the excitement around hockey is still burning within and we have been fortunate enough to have played 11 aside friendlies recently against St Dunstans with two draws and one loss. Hockey seems to be growing with the teams increasing year on year and players interests growing day by day. Mr Colin Sandwell HOD | Senior School Sport

NETBALL We had our fair share of obstacles when it came to sport the last two seasons! Luckily, we were able to have a few practices and trials before all matches were cancelled again! All our netball players were able to trial for school teams and we selected our various age groups’ A, B, C and D teams. We were also lucky enough to send a few of our girls for Provincial Trials. Vinah Mokgatle (Grd 8), Celeste Matsaudza (Grd 9), Amy Hollard (Grd 9), Micah Crawley (Grade 9), Nikita Wessels (Grd 9) and Jamie Bradbury (Grd 9), were all selected at the D13 Trials and progressed through to the final round of Gauteng Trials. Vinah Mokgatle (Grade 8) and Celeste Matsaudza (Grade 9), were both selected to represent Gauteng at the 2021 All-Ages Tournament. Vinah and her team finished second overall, narrowly losing in the final, and Celeste and her team finished fourth overall! Well done Vinah and Celeste, we are incredibly proud of you! Parktown Girls hosted a Fast 5 festival over the month of September. We entered a Junior and Senior team to participate in this festival. Both our teams did extremely well, winning all their games! The scores were as follows: Senior Team Game 1 vs Sports Gwaans – 35-0 Game 2 vs St Andrews – 19-7 Junior Team Match 1 vs Sports Gwaans – 37-0 Match 2 vs St Andrews – 18-10 Match 3 vs Parktown – 27-7 Match 4 vs Brainwashers – 26-12 A group of people running Thank you to all of the netball players for their commitment and passion and I hope next year we will be able to play league matches and show everyone how fierce St Dominic’s netball can be!

RUNNING & ATHLETICS The 2021 Running Team is a group of determined, dedicated, self- disciplined and ebullient young ladies. Be it a crisp winter’s or warm summer’s morning, the team never fails to gather, with big smiles, ready for our next run. When couldn’t come together physically, we still joined in spirit and remained dedicated. We ran at home and participated in the weekly fitness challenge videos. I would like to express my gratitude to Ms Patterson for all the motivation, reassurance and preparation you put into every one of our runs. This year, our team would not be what it is without you. I would also like to thank Olivia Smargiasso, our running captain in 2021, for her hours of work behind the scenes and words of encouragement during our runs. Finally, I thank the Running Team for all the beautiful memories and morning laughs. Ladies, don’t stop running. Keep chasing your dreams until you catch them. “One run can change your day, many runs can change your life.” 2021 Running Captain’s Message Olivia Smargiasso As runners, we believe we have the perseverance to conquer any challenge and the past few months have provided many opportunities to put that perseverance to the test. We are so happy we have emerged victorious and are back on the field running into sunrises. I commend all the runners for staying fit and healthy throughout these difficult times and look forward to seeing you tackle the next obstacle with the same positive mindset.

DIVING Diving - (a noun) A sport that involves throwing yourself off high platforms and wondering why, all the way down. The Covid-19 pandemic has brought many challenges, especially to the sport and cultural life at school – however, the diving team plunged head-first into troubled water and remained dedicated to our beloved sport. Covid restrictions prevented the diving team from getting back into the pool in the first term, but despite this, the girls persevered and conditioned their skills and flexibility at home. I am so incredibly proud of their dedication to this sport and their efforts truly deserve to be commended. Fortunately, we were able to get back in the pool in the third term, bringing a glimpse of normality. To have the pool area buzzing with laughter and excitement is the best sensation in the world. Even better than diving into cool water on a hot day! Although the third term was not a competition season for the senior diving team, the girls have made the best of the situation to refine their skills for the next competition season. As Simon Biles said, “Practice makes confidence, and confidence empowers you.” And I am confident, that our diving team will be a power-house next year. I would like to give a vote of thanks to everyone who has been a part of diving. An enormous thanks goes out to Mr Marshall, who has spent many tireless hours organising diving practices and competitions and even stepping in as coach when needed. Our thanks go out to Mr Kriel, who made sure the diving boards were always ready for us and that there were no lane ropes in our way. He will be sorely missed at the pool but will forever remain in our hearts. To my fellow matrics, Bianca Ferreirinha and Pabala Mahlatsi -- getting to dive and compete with you ladies has been the absolute highlight of my high school career. Thank you for helping me coach our little divers, for being an ear to talk to and for filling my busy afternoons with side splitting laughter. I will forever cherish all our memories. Lastly, and most importantly, I would like to thank the diving team. You girls never fail to make me smile and have made the past seven years an absolute delight. I am so incredibly proud of how far each of you has come. As heartsore as I am that I will not be joining you next season, I know you all are going to do absolutely amazing things with your talents. I wish you all the best for future seasons to come. Remember, always dive with your heart and soul and point your toes! Kayla Richardson

WATER POLO Captain’s Report Waterpolo is one of the most demanding and rewarding Sport’s I have come across in my career as a School Teacher and Coach. Most of our During my time as Captain of the St Dominic’s 1st Water Polo team senior players started playing during their Primary School years and we have been unable to play competitively or even train as a team. once this ‘waterpolo bug bit’, it is as if there is this new desire to train, Unfortunately when the restrictions were finally lifted and waterpolo play and compete. All of this comes from loving the Sport. was allowed to resume the Matric’s were not able to participate in the last part of the season. I have had the privileged to play with an At St Dominic’s we have always had the rule that if you want to play amazing group of girls throughout my High School career and the waterpolo in High School you need to take part in Swimming as a sport, memories that we have made together I will cherish forever. A huge this is sometimes is a ‘tough pill to swallow’ but once you start getting thank you goes out to Mr Marshall for all the time, energy and dedication fitter and stronger in the water you start enjoying the game even more. he puts into the sport that we all appreciate and love. Thank you to Mr Through sheer dedication and the desire to train with fellow team Sandwell and Mrs. Pirie for all their hard work and encouragement for mates our waterpolo players have become some of our top swimmers the past few seasons. Lastly, we will never forget all that Mr Kriel did and the anchors to our swimming team. for us as he was always willing to lend a helping hand and will sorely be missed. I would like to wish all the future St Dominic’s waterpolo teams During the last part of this year our Waterpolo teams have managed the very best of luck and praying that the pandemic soon comes to an to get back into the water and play in some Inter School Tournaments end. and festivals. Our Under 14 team which is made up of mainly Girls from the Primary School started the season off by playing in a few “You can’t put a limit on anything, the more you dream, the further you friendlies, the results were not always great but the main thing was get.” being able to compete again. Their highlight of the season was playing in the Roedean under 14 Tournament, for a young team, probably with an average age of 12 years old this Team did exceptionally well and ended in 7th position out of 20 Schools. Our 1st Team has also ended the year off with some excellent results finishing in 4th Position at the Roedean Prestige Cup, 4th in the St Stithian’s Stayers Tournament and 3rd position in the Reef Cup Tournament. A special congratulations goes to Kara Wicht and Taylor Stanton who both made the Tournament teams at the recent St Stithian’s Stayers Tournament and Reef Cup Tournament as well as Alex Fry who made the Reef Cup Tournament Team. All the St Dominic’s Coaches would like to congratulate all our players that have been selected to represent Eastern Gauteng and Central Gauteng Waterpolo teams at the end of year Inter Provincial Tournament. Gabriella Teixeira (Captain)

SQUASH