A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA

Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well!

But yet for a while do I leave thee now!

Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell,

And burning recollections throng my brow!

For I have wandered through thy flowery woods;

Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream;

Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods,

And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam.

Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart,

Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes;

‘Tis from no stranger land I now must part,

'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs.

Welcome and home were mine within this State,

Whose vales I leave – whose spires fade fast from me

And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete,

When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!

There were very few there who knew what “tete” meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.

Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone:

A VISION

Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning reveled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene.

At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, ‘My dearest friend, my counselor, my comforter and guide – My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived -- unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented.

This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most “eloquent” thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it.

8. Comment on some of Twain’s remarks when describing the quality of student papers. Explain why the commentary is so biting. Translate the sentences into Russian.

· Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it.

· There was a buzz of gratification from time to time.

· There were very few there who knew what “tete” meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.

· This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript.

· (It) wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize.

· He said that (…) Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it.

9. Read the translation of one of the student papers. Decide whether it conveys the author’s message or it doesn’t.

На обычных тропах бытия с каким радостным волнением предвкушают юные умы какое-нибудь долгожданное празднество. Воображение рисует им картины веселья, окрашенные в розовый цвет. В мечтах сластолюбивая поклонница моды видит себя в самом центре ликующей и восхищенной толпы. Ее изящная фигура, облеченная в белоснежные ткани, кружится в упоении веселого танца; у нее самая легкая поступь, и глаза ее сияют ярче всех в этой празднично-ликующей толпе. В таких сладостных грезах время проносится мимо, и приходит час, когда можно вступить в тот рай, о котором так пылко мечтала. Какими волшебными представляются ей все очарования этого нового мира! Каждое новое видение соблазняет ее все более и более. Но вскоре она обнаруживает, что под этой блестящей поверхностью — всё тлен и суета. Лесть, которая так услаждала ее душу, теперь лишь раздражает ее слух; пышные бальные залы потеряли свою привлекательность; и с разрушенным здоровьем и удрученным сердцем она уходит оттуда, унося непоколебимую уверенность, что никакие земные утехи не могут утолить ее духовную жажду!

10. If you were one of the judges at a literary contest and were handed in the compositions the examples of which you can find above, what would your verdict be? Write it down in 10 sentences.

11. In the story a historical name was mentioned: Daniel Webster. Why is his name used in the context? Do some research and find out.

12. Translate the second student’s composition into Russian.

WRITING HUMOROUSLY

13. Humour is something we all look for and are afraid of once in a while. Writing with humour depends either on the quality of the situation or on the skill of the author. Various techniques can be used here. One of the most basic ones is the pun or, simply, play on words. Read a short story by John Lennon entitled “The Wrestling Dog” and decide whether it is — well — funny.

THE WRESTLING DOG

One upon a tom in a far off distant land far across the sea miles away from anyway over the hills as the crow barks 39 peoble lived miles away from anywhere on a little island on a distant land.

When harvest time came along all the people celebrated with a mighty feast and dancing and that. It was Perry’s (for Perry was the Loud mayor) job to provide (and Perry’s great pleasure I might add) a new and exciting (and it usually was) thrill and spectacular performer (sometimes a dwarf was used), this year Perry had surpassed himselve by getting a Wrestling Dog! But who would fight this wondrous beast? I wouldn’t for a kick off.

14. Study all the unusual words/phrase you came across in the above text. Analyze their pun-tential.

15. Read the translation made by a professional, A. Kubbanovsky. Do you find it altogether fitting? Why (not)? In small groups, produce your own version.

Как-то раз, в незапамятные бремена, далеко-далеко, на краю земли, за холмами да за морями, куда и вороне не залететь, жили-были 39 человек на маленьком островке в да­леком и чужом краю.

Когда наступало у них время заражайное, тут уж все весе­лились как могли: пировали, плясовали и все остальное-прочее. А Перри (который был у них Лорд-Мурлом) должен был к празднику отрыть (тут-то он и показывал свою прыть) какую-нибудь новую забаву (вот смеху-то бывало!), аттрак­цион или артиста (как-то раз он пригласил гнома). Но уж в этот год Перри превзошел самого себя — раздобыл нату­рального Пса-Борца! Но только кто же рискнет сразиться с этим чудо-юдом? Да ну его на фиг!

________________________________________________________

PROJECT SUGGESTIONS (Stories 1 — 5)

Work in small groups. Recollect a multi-meaningful title of a famous book. Make it the title of your project that may take the form of a book presentation. For example, you choose The War of the Worlds, Wells’ celebrated novel title. Consequently, you might like to describe the conflicts that take place between teachers and students in the school. Another title may give you a whole new set of ideas. So, start doing a library search!

SARA’S RAPID

THINKING AHEAD

Have you ever considered sport a risky business? What are the most dangerous sports, in your opinion? Why do people persist going in for sport when their health and life are at stake?

A WORD ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Susan Schmidt is an investigative reporter with the Wall Street Journal. She is best known for her work at The Washington Post, where she worked from 1983 until recently. While at the Post, she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for investigative reporting in 2006. But her creative activities are not limited within politics. She regularly contributes to various publications writing human-interest stories. Her stories for teenagers are remarkable for her insight into her characters` psychology.

PRE-READING ACTIVITIES

1. In small groups discuss what can possibly be called “sport for fun” and “sport for challenge”. What are the pluses and minuses of both?

2.What kind of sport appeals to you? Why?

3. Discuss the problem of chances and opportunity in sport and in life. Are they similar in nature? Can one have a second chance in sport (or in life)?

READING ACTIVITIES

4. Read the first part of the story and pay special attention to the way the author depicts the major character’s mood. What does the character’s phrase “I didn’t even try” imply?

Sara lay in the bow of the raft and stared into the blue-green water. Tomorrow we'll be at the car, she thought. The river trip will be over, and school starts in a week. Junior high. She sighed.

“The map shows calm water from here on out,” her dad said. His voice sounded loud in the stillness. Sara sat up and ran her hand through her short blond hair, mak­ing it stand up in spikes above her green eyes. “You mean the rapid we just did, the one called House Rock, was the last white water on the river?” Her dad nodded.

Sara's stomach sank. Now I have to tell everyone I just rode in the raft the whole trip, she thought. All I talked about last year was kayaking on the big Salmon River in the Idaho wilderness. What a joke! Sara heard a splash and turned to see her older brother, Mick, pad­dling his orange kayak toward her. He had a big grin on his face, and his nose was smeared with white sun lotion.

“Hey, Sara,” he called. “Hop in your kayak. That last rapid was great.”

Sara stared at her hands clenched in her lap.

“Just 'cause that wave knocked you over on the first day is no rea­son to wimp out totally,” Mick said.

“I'm not a wimp.” She felt her throat tighten. “If you had almost drowned the first day, you wouldn't want to kayak either.”

“You didn't almost drown. You were in the water about two min­utes before Dad pulled you into the raft.”

“That's enough,” their dad inter­rupted. “Sara doesn't have to kayak if she doesn't want to.” Mick threw himself to one side, and his kayak flipped. His body disappeared beneath the water. He brought his paddle to the surface and swept it toward the rear of his boat in a wide arc. He instantly rolled back up, completing an Es­kimo Roll. “See you later, chicken,” he called and paddled away.

Sara leaned against one of the wooden food boxes near the bow of the raft. I'm not chicken, she thought. But she closed her eyes and remembered the wave crash­ing down on her, knocking her into the cold water. I didn't try to do an Eskimo Roll, she thought. I just came out of my boat right away. I didn't even try.

5.Go on reading. Comment on Sara’s actions.

“Dad,” she said, opening her eyes, “head toward shore. I want to kayak.”

With trembling fingers she put on her life jacket, snapped her helmet strap under her chin, and paddled away from shore. Her hands were sweaty where they gripped the paddle. I feel like I could tip over any second, she thought. But she kept paddling, and as she glided by the low brown-gold cliffs, her arms began to relax. She heard a canyon wren sing suddenly, shrilly, and then heard a faint sound like wind in the trees. She stopped paddling, listening. She could see Mick in the distance. The white blades of his paddle flashed in the sunlight.

Suddenly, Mick turned his boat upstream and lifted his paddle over his head. “Sara, Sara,” he yelled. He raised and lowered his paddle three times.

That means rapid ahead. Sara frowned. But Dad said there weren't any rapids, she thought. Mick's just trying to scare me. He's trying to make me go to shore so he can call me a chicken again.

Sara felt the current becoming faster, stronger. Mick began pad­dling hard upstream, heading for shore. The faint sound she had first heard had grown into a deep thrumming. Sara glanced nervously toward the distant shore. Downstream, the river disappeared as though it just dropped off the end of the world.

“Rapid!” she heard her dad call. She looked back upstream and saw him standing in the raft waving. Sara gulped. It's a rapid, a real one, she thought, and her stomach turned upside down.

Again Mick waved his paddle overhead. “Go back!” he yelled and suddenly lost his balance. His kayak flipped. “Roll back up,” Sara pleaded. “Roll back up.” Every muscle in her body was screaming to paddle for shore, but she had to see if Mick was O.K. Mick surfaced a few feet from his boat, swimming. Below him, Sara could see white water shooting into the air. He disappeared.

“Mick!” Sara screamed and started after him into the rapid.

6.Read the story to the end. Do you think it’s predictable? What your own version of the ending might have been?

There were rocks to her right and left, but straight ahead was a clear channel of smooth water. She aimed for it. White water cascaded over a two-foot ledge, crashing into a pool of boiling foam. A towering wave at the bottom curled toward her. Sara shot over the ledge, fell through the air, and smacked into the wave. It hit like a cold fist, but she kept paddling and burst through into the calm water below.

She saw Mick swimming down­stream. Quickly, she closed the gap between them. “Grab my boat,” she yelled. Mick reached for the rope tied to the bow of her kayak. Just as his fingers touched the loop, her kayak slammed into a rock just be­neath the surface. Over she went into the cold water. I've got to roll, she thought, and she swept her paddle back, snapped her hips, and rolled up into the sunlight.

Mick grabbed hold of the rope, and Sara dragged him through the water toward a calm pool where his kayak floated. She stubbed the nose of her kayak on the sandy beach and climbed out. Mick staggered onto shore.

Their dad rowed toward shore with a worried frown on his face. He jumped out of the raft as it hit the beach and hugged them both. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Yeah,” Mick mumbled.

Sara could feel Mick trembling next to her. He wouldn't have flipped if he hadn't tried to warn me, she thought. And I didn't even believe him.

“Let's get some dry clothes on you, Mick,” their dad said and walked toward the raft.

“I'm sorry, Mick,” Sara said.

“I'm sorry I didn't go right to shore. I thought you were just trying to scare me.”

“Sorry? If it hadn't been for you, I'd still be swimming.”

“I saw the rescue,” their dad said, walking back from the raft with Mick's clothes. “Great job, Sara!”

Sara felt a warm glow spread through her. “What rapid was that anyway?” she asked. “You said there weren't any.”

“It looks like a new one,” her dad said, pointing across the river. The opposite bank was bare where rocks, mud, and trees had slid into the river, creating a rapid. “Caused by a rock slide. It sure isn't on the map.”

“You mean it doesn't have a name?” Sara asked. “I was hoping it had a really neat name like Devil's Hole or something.”

Mick looked at Sara with a tired smile. “I think we should call it Sara's Rapid. She's probably the first person who ever kayaked it.”

“O.K. by me,” Sara said and lay back on the warm beach, locking her hands behind her head. “I suppose the rest of the trip will be pretty boring.”

Mick and her dad burst out laughing. Sara grinned, feeling strong.

AFTER-READING ACTIVITIES

7. Answer the following questions.

· Do you think it was Sara’s fear of ‘crashing rapids’ that made her so depressed or something else? What was it exactly?

· Did Sara’s family sympathize with her worries? Can you give any relevant examples on the matter from the text?

· If you had almost drowned the first day of your camping trip, would you ever try to kayak once again? Why? Why not?

· If not the need to rescue her brother, would Sara overcome her fears? What could possibly help her, in your opinion?

· Was Sara aware of the risk while saving Mick or were her actions totally impulsive?

· Does one need challenging situations like the one Sara experienced to regain the former strength and courage?

· How would you describe Sara’s state and mood after the rescue?

· How does ‘Sara’s Rapid’ sound to you? What other names would you give to the rapid kayaked that day?

8.What do you know about the sport the characters of the story went in for? Is it possible to practice it in Belarus? With your desk partner make a list of terms related to this kind of sport. Is it hard to guess their meaning?

9.Let us describe the characters of the story with the help of their remarks. Find out whom this remark belongs to and make a brief description of their character.

· “Hey, Sara… That last rapid was great!”

· “Just ‘cause that wave knocked you over on the first day is no reason to wimp out totally”.

· “… Go back!”

· “Great job, Sara!”

· “I think we call it Sara’s Rapid. She’s probably the first person who ever kayaked it”.

· “That's enough,” “Sara doesn't have to kayak if she doesn't want to.”

· “I was hoping it had a really neat name like Devil's Hole or something.”

10.Study the psychological portraits of ‘Sara before’ and ‘Sara after’ the rescue. In what way are they different? Prove your point of view with the examples from the text.

11.Let us focus on style. Read the definition of a stylistic device and find its examples in the story.

Humour is a device used in fiction and intended to cause laughter. The object of humour may be a funny incident or an odd feature of human character. The essence of humour is generally warmth, sympathy, fellow feeling.

12.Imagine you are Sara 20 years after the accident telling the story to her children. In what way would you retell it? Write down your version of the events (20 sentences).

DESCRIPTIVE WRITING

13.Free writing. You have five minutes to write down any images, ideas or details that come to you concerning the topic “The sport I`d like to practise”. Don’t pay any attention to possible grammar or spelling mistakes, focus on the content.

14.Clustering. Transfer this boxed subject onto your notebook page. Write related ideas, box them and connect them with lines to your subject and to each other.

Swap your cluster diagram with your desk partner and point out the most interesting issues.

15.Write a 120-word essay describing your most favourite athlete. Be ready to present your story in class. Here are some useful words and phrases to help guide the reader through the essay.

1. Introducing a point: nowadays, firstly.

2. Describing consequences: as a result, consequently.

3. Giving more information: in addition, moreover, furthermore, finally, lastly.

4. Introducing a contrasting point: however, in contrast, on the other hand, nevertheless, while, whereas.

5. Concluding: in conclusion, to sum up.

A CHANGE OF HEART

THINKING AHEAD

What is sport to you — a hobby, a pastime, a challenge, a necessity? Why do people become athletes and sports fans? How can sports change a person`s life? You can find some of the answers in the story you are about to read.

A WORD ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PRE-READING ACTIVITIES

1. In small groups discuss individual and team sports. Do they build up similar or different character traits?

2. Decide whether sports and politics mix in today`s world and in what way they influence each other.

3. Discuss the acute problem of juvenile delinquency. Going in for sports can be an option for such kids, can’t it? Please, explain.

READING ACTIVITIES

4. Read the first part of the story and pay special attention to the following sentence: “No one is born with prejudice in their hearts, although some people are introduced to it at an early age.” How does it sound? Do you agree with it?

There is a man from Cape Town who travels to the black township of Crossroads every day. He spends the morning teaching English at one of the local schools, the afternoon coaching rugby or cricket according to the season, and his evenings roaming the streets trying to convince the young that they shouldn't form gangs or commit crimes, and that they should have nothing to do with drugs. He is known as the Crossroads Convert.

No one is born with prejudice in their hearts, although some people are introduced to it at an early age. This was certainly true of Stoffel van den Berg. Stoffel was born m Cape Town, and never once in his life travelled abroad. His ancestors had emigrated from Holland in the eighteenth century, and Stoffel grew up accustomed to having black servants who were there to carry out his slightest whim. If the boys - none of the servants appeared to be graced with a name, whatever their age - didn't obey Stoffel's orders, they were soundly beaten or simply not fed. If they carried out a job well, they weren't thanked, and were certainly never praised. Why bother to thank someone who has only been put on earth to serve you?

When Stoffel attended his first primary school in the Cape this unthinking prejudice was simply reinforced, with classrooms full of white children being taught only by white teachers. The few blacks he ever came across at school were cleaning lavatories that they would never be allowed to use themselves. During his school days Stoffel proved to be above average in the classroom, excelling in maths, but in a class of his own on the playing field. By the time Stoffel was in his final year of school, this six-foot-two-inch, fair-haired Boer was playing fly half for the 1st fifteen in the winter and opening the batting for the 1st eleven during the summer. There was already talk of him playing either rugby or cricket for the Springboks even before he had applied for a place at any university. Several college scouts visited the school in his final year to offer him scholarships, and on the advice of his headmaster, supported by his father, he settled on Stellenbosch. Stoffel's unerring progress continued from the moment he arrived on the campus. In his freshman year he was selected to open the batting for the university eleven when one of the regular openers was injured. He didn't miss a match for the rest of the season. Two years later, he captained an undefeated varsity side, and went on to score a century for Western Province against Natal.

On leaving university, Stoffel was recruited by Barclays Bank to join their public relations department, although it was made clear to him at the interview that his first priority was to ensure that Barclays won the Inter-Bank Cricket Cup. He had been with the bank for only a few weeks when the Springbok selectors wrote to inform him that he was being considered for the South African cricket squad which was preparing for the forthcoming tour by England. The bank was delighted, and told him he could take as much time off as he needed to prepare for the national side. He dreamed of scoring a century at Newlands, and perhaps one day even at Lord's. He followed with interest the Ashes series that was taking place in England. He had only read about players like Underwood and Snow, but their reputations did not worry him. Stoffel intended to despatch their bowling to every boundary in the country. The South African papers were also following the Ashes series with keen interest, because they wanted to keep their readers informed of the strengths and weaknesses of the opposition their team would be facing in a few weeks' time. Then, overnight, these stories were transferred from the back pages to the front, when England selected an all-rounder who played for Worcester called Basil D'Oliveira. Mr D'Oliveira, as the press called him, made the front pages because he was what the South Africans classified as “Cape Coloured”. Because he had not been allowed to play first-class cricket in his native South Africa, he had emigrated to England. The press in both countries began to speculate on the South African government's attitude should D'Oliveira be selected by the MCC as a member of the touring side to visit South Africa.

“If the English were stupid enough to select him,” Stoffel told his friends at the bank, “the tour would have to be cancelled.” After all, he couldn't be expected to play against a coloured man. The South Africans' best hope was that Mr D'Oliveira would fail in the final Test at The Oval, and would not be considered for the coming tour, and thus the problem would simply go away. D'Oliveira duly obliged in the first innings, scoring only eleven runs and taking no Australian wickets. But in the second innings he played a major role in winning the match and squaring the series, scoring a chanceless 158. Even so, he was controversially left out of the touring team for South Africa. But when another player pulled out because of injury, he was selected as his replacement.

The South African government immediately made their position clear: only white players would be welcome in their land. Robust diplomatic exchanges took place over the following weeks, but as the MCC refused to remove D'Oliveira from the party the tour had to be cancelled. It was not until after Nelson Mandela became President in 1994 that an official English team once again set foot in South Africa. Stoffel was shattered by the decision, and although he played regularly for Western Province and ensured that Barclays retained the Inter-Bank Cup, he doubted if he would ever be awarded a Test cap. But, despite his disappointment, Stoffel remained in no doubt that the government had made the right decision. After all, why should the English imagine they could dictate who should visit South Africa? It was while he was playing against Transvaal that he met Inga. Not only was she the most beautiful creature he had ever set eyes on, but she also fully agreed with his sound views on the superiority of the white race. They were married a year later.

5.Now go on reading. Share your opinions about the main character`s political views.

When sanctions began to be imposed on South Africa by country after country, Stoffel continued to back the government, proclaiming that the decadent Western politicians had all become liberal weaklings. Why didn't they come to South Africa and see the country for themselves, he would demand of anyone who visited the Cape. That way they would soon discover that he didn't beat his servants, and that the blacks received a fair wage, as recommended by the government. What more could they hope for? In fact, he could never understand why the government didn't hang Mandela and his terrorist cronies for treason. Piet and Marike nodded their agreement whenever their father expressed these views. He explained to them over breakfast again and again that you couldn't treat people who had recently fallen out of trees as equals. After all, it wasn't how God had planned things.

When Stoffel stopped playing cricket in his late thirties, he took over as head of the bank's public relations department, and was invited to join the board. The family moved into a large house a few miles down the Cape, overlooking the Atlantic. While the rest of the world continued to enforce sanctions, Stoffel only became more convinced that South Africa was the one place on earth that had got things right. He regularly expressed these views, both in public and in private.

“You should stand for Parliament,” a friend told him. “The country needs men who believe in the South African way of life, and aren't willing to give in to a bunch of ignorant foreigners, most of whom have never even visited the country.” To begin with, Stoffel didn't take such suggestions seriously. But then the National Party's Chairman flew to Cape Town especially to see him.

“The Political Committee were hoping you would allow your name to go forward as a prospective candidate at the next general election,” he told Stoffel. Stoffel promised he would consider the idea, but explained that he would need to speak to his wife and fellow board members at the bank before he could come to a decision. To his surprise, they all encouraged him to take up the offer. “After all, you are a national figure, universally popular, and no one can be in any doubt about your attitude to apartheid.” A week later, Stoffel phoned the National Party Chairman to say that he would be honoured to stand as a candidate. When he was selected to fight the safe seat of Noordhoek, he ended his speech to the adoption committee with the words, “I'll go to my grave knowing apartheid must be right, for blacks as well as for whites.” He received a standing ovation.

That all changed on 18 August 1989. Stoffel left the bank a few minutes early that evening, because he was due to address a meeting at his local town hall. The election was now only weeks away, and the opinion polls were indicating that he was certain to become the Member for the Noordhoek constituency. As he stepped out of the lift he bumped into Martinus de Jong, the bank's General Manager.

“Another half-day, Stoffel?” he asked with a grin.

“Hardly. I'm off to address a meeting in the constituency, Martinus.”

“Quite right, old fellow,” de Jong replied. “And don't leave them in any doubt that no one can afford to waste their vote this time - that is, if they don't want this country to end up being run by the blacks. By the way,” he added, “we don't need assisted places for blacks at universities either. If we allow a bunch of students in England to dictate the bank's policy, we'll end up with some black wanting my job.”

“Yes, I read the memo from London. They're acting like a herd of ostriches. Must dash, Martinus, or I'll be late for my meeting.”

“Yes, sorry to have held you up, old fellow.”

Stoffel checked his watch and ran down the ramp to the carpark. When he joined the traffic in Rhodes Street, it quickly became clear that he had not managed to avoid the bumper-to-bumper exodus of people heading out of town for the weekend.

Once he had passed the city limits, he moved quickly into top gear. It was only fifteen miles to Noordhoek, although the terrain was steep and the road winding. But as Stoffel knew every inch of the journey, he was usually parked outside his front door in under half an hour. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. With luck, he would still be home with enough time to shower and change before he had to head off for the meeting. As he swung south onto the road which would take him up into the hills, Stoffel pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator, nipping in and out to overtake slow-moving lorries and cars that weren't as familiar with the road as he was. He scowled as he shot past a black driver who was struggling up the hill in a clapped-out old van that shouldn't have been allowed on the road. Stoffel accelerated round the next bend to see a lorry ahead of him. He knew there was a long, straight section of road before he would encounter another bend, so he had easily enough time to overtake. He put his foot down and pulled out to overtake, surprised to discover how fast the lorry was travelling.

When he was about a hundred yards from the next bend, a car appeared around the corner. Stoffel had to make an instant decision. Should he slam his foot on the brake, or on the accelerator? He pressed his foot hard down until the accelerator was touching the floor, assuming the other fellow would surely brake. He eased ahead of the lorry, and the moment he had overtaken it, he swung in as quickly as he could, but still he couldn't avoid clipping the mudguard of the oncoming car. For an instant he saw the terrified eyes of the other driver, who had slammed on his brakes, but the steep gradient didn't help him. Stoffel's car rammed into the safety barrier before bouncing back onto the other side of the road, eventually coming to a halt in a clump of trees.

That was the last thing he remembered, before he regained consciousness five weeks later.

6.Read the story to the end. What change of heart does the author have in mind?

Stoffel looked up to find Inga standing at his bedside. When she saw his eyes open, she grasped his hand and then rushed out of the room to call for a doctor. The next time he woke they were both standing by his bedside, but it was another week before the surgeon was able to tell him what had happened following the crash. Stoffel listened in horrified silence when he learned that the other driver had died of head injuries soon after arriving at the hospital.

“You're lucky to be alive,” was all Inga said.

“You certainly are,” said the surgeon, “because only moments after the other driver died, your heart also stopped beating. It was just your luck that a suitable donor was in the next operating theatre.”

“Not the driver of the other car?” said Stoffel.

The surgeon nodded.

“But . . . wasn't he black?” asked Stoffel in disbelief.

“Yes, he was,” confirmed the surgeon. “And it may come as a surprise to you, Mr van den Berg, that your body doesn't realise that. Just be thankful that his wife agreed to the transplant. If I recall her words” – he paused – “she said, “I can't see the point in both of them dying.” Thanks to her, we were able to save your life, Mr van den Berg.' He hesitated and pursed his lips, then said quietly, “But I'm sorry to have to tell you that your other internal injuries were so severe that despite the success of the heart transplant, the prognosis is not at all good.”

Stoffel didn't speak for some time, but eventually asked, 'How long do I have?'

“Three, possibly four years,” replied the surgeon. “But only if you take it easy.”

Stoffel fell into a deep sleep.

It was another six weeks before Stoffel left the hospital, and even then Inga insisted on a long period of convalescence. Several friends came to visit him at home, including Martinus de Jong, who assured him that his job at the bank would be waiting for him just as soon as he had fully recovered.

“I shall not be returning to the bank,” Stoffel said quietly. “You will be receiving my resignation in the next few days.”

“But why?” asked de Jong. “I can assure you . . .”

Stoffel waved his hand. “It's kind of you, Martinus, but I have other plans.”

The moment the doctor said Stoffel could leave the house, he asked Inga to drive him to Crossroads, so he could visit the widow of the man he had killed. The tall, fair-haired white couple walked among the shacks of Crossroads, watched by sullen, resigned eyes. When they reached the little hovel where they had been told the driver's wife lived, they stopped. Stoffel would have knocked on the door if there had been one. He peered through the gap and into the darkness to see a young woman with a baby in her arms, cowering in the far corner.

“My name is Stoffel van den Berg,” he told her. “I have come to say how sorry I am to have been the cause of your husband's death.”

“Thank you, master,” she replied. “No need to visit me.”

As there wasn't anything to sit on, Stoffel lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs.

“I also wanted to thank you for giving me the chance to live.”

“Thank you, master.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He paused. “Perhaps you and your child would like to come and live with us?”

“No, thank you, master.”

“Is there nothing I can do?” asked Stoffel helplessly.

“Nothing, thank you, master.”

Stoffel rose from his place, aware that his presence seemed to disturb her. He and Inga walked back through the township in silence, and did not speak again until they had reached their car.

“I've been so blind,” he said as Inga drove him home.

“Not just you,” his wife admitted, tears welling up in her eyes. “But what can we do about it?”

“I know what I must do.”

Inga listened as her husband described how he intended to spend the rest of his life.

The next morning Stoffel called in at the bank, and with the help of Martinus de Jong worked out how much he could afford to spend over the next three years.

“Have you told Inga that you want to cash in your life insurance?”

“It was her idea,” said Stoffel.

“How do you intend to spend the money?”

“I'll start by buying some second-hand books, old rugby balls and cricket bats.”

“We could help by doubling the amount you have to spend,” suggested the General Manager.

“How?” asked Stoffel.

“By using the surplus we have in the sports fund.”

“But that's restricted to whites.”

“And you're white,” said the General Manager.

Martinus was silent for some time before he added, “Don't imagine that you're the only person whose eyes have been opened by this tragedy. And you are far better placed to . . .” he hesitated.

“To . . . ?” repeated Stoffel.

“Make others, more prejudiced than yourself, aware of their past mistakes.”

That afternoon Stoffel returned to Crossroads. He walked around the township for several hours before he settled on a piece of land surrounded by tin shacks and tents. Although it wasn't flat, or the perfect shape or size, he began to pace out a pitch, while hundreds of young children stood staring at him. The following day some of those children helped him paint the touchlines and put out the corner flags.

For four years, one month and eleven days, Stoffel van den Berg travelled to Crossroads every morning, where he would teach English to the children in what passed for a school. In the afternoons, he taught the same children the skills of rugby or cricket, according to the season. In the evenings, he would roam the streets trying to persuade teenagers that they shouldn't form gangs, commit crime or have anything to do with drugs.

Stoffel van den Berg died on 24 March 1994, only days before Nelson Mandela was elected as President. Like Basil D'Oliveira, he had played a small part in defeating apartheid. The funeral of the Crossroads Convert was attended by over two thousand mourners who had travelled from all over the country to pay their respects.The journalists were unable to agree whether there had been more blacks or more whites in the congregation.

AFTER-READING ACTIVITIES

7. Answer the following questions.

· Was Stoffel`s attitude towards black people extraordinary in any way?

· In what way did excellence in sports promote Stoffel`s success?

· Did the main character’s political views change as he matured?

· What do you think might nave happened if Stoffel had become a major political figure in his native country?

· How can you explain Stoffel`s disregard for the contempt the world community expressed towards his country’s political regime?

· What shocked Stoffel more: the fact that his new heart was “black” or that he didn’t have much to live?

· Why did the bank support Stoffel in his daring attempt to fight apartheid?

· Do you find the ending of the story very moving? Why?

· In what way would you interpret the story title?

8.Find all the words with the help of which the author describes Stoffel van den Berg`s outstanding sports career. Make a list of sport terms you come across.

9.Let us describe the characters of the story with the help of their remarks. Find out whom this remark belongs to and make a brief description of their character.

· “I'll go to my grave knowing apartheid must be right, for blacks as well as for whites.”

· “If we allow a bunch of students in England to dictate the bank's policy, we'll end up with some black wanting my job.”

· “But . . . wasn't he black?”

· “Thank you, master, no need to visit me.”

· “I've been so blind.”

· “Don't imagine that you're the only person whose eyes have been opened by this tragedy.”

· “I know what I must do.”

10.Study the way the author describes the change that occurred in Stoffel van den Berg`s mind. Notice his actions and moods and comment on the ways they are depicted. Comment on the new name the main character was given.

11.Let us focus on style. Read the definition of a stylistic device and find its examples in the story.

Repetition is one of the syntactical stylistic devices. It is mainly used when the speaker experiences strong emotional stress. The stylistic device of repetition aims at logical emphasis, at drawing the readers` attention to the key word or phrase.

12.Recall other sport stories you`ve ever read or watched. Which is the top one for you? Write down the content of the story of your choice (20 sentences).

DESCRIPTIVE WRITING

13.Clustering. Transfer this boxed subject onto your notebook page. Write related ideas, box them and connect them with lines to your subject and to each other. Swap your cluster diagram with your desk partner and point out the most interesting issues.

14.Everything we do affects our senses. If you pay attention to this phenomenon you can improve your writing with vivid sensory details. Record such details about a familiar experience: a gym class or sports practice.

15.Write a 150-word story describing the most memorable sport event you have ever witnessed (live or televised). Present your story in class.

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