【推荐2】Growing up, I always dreamt of becoming a published writer one day. However, a manuscript(手稿)I wrote in 1989 was repeatedly rejected by different publishers. That was a failed attempt during my teenage years. “Just a waste of time,” once remarked my dad. But through my love for writing and reading works of non-fiction writers, I explored this road as much as I could.

After my grandmother passed on in East London, my hometown, I went to stay with my mother in Johannesburg. In the City of Gold I stepped through the doors of newspaper houses, submitting stories. On many occasions the written content was considered-disorganised. Editors frequently asked, “Do you have an academic background in journalism?” I was not formally trained in journalism, but I never gave up.

I started out in 2004 by commenting on controversial issues. My views appeared in the “Letters” section of major newspapers across South Africa and Zimbabwe. During this period of laying the foundation for my future career, I worked as a full-time security guard.

Whenever I was off-duty, research became my favourite hobby. So, it was at the Johannesburg City Library that I found an invaluable book which helped me to become familiar with how to put together a feature story in terms of constructing the introduction, the body and the conclusion.

In 2008 I worked on a bigger scale(规模)when I contributed my first feature article to a provincial newspaper in Pietermaritzburg. In that very same year I sold three more opinion pieces to a newspaper in East London.

Writing a weekly column(专栏)themed Devil’s Advocate for Khanyisa Weekly in Ermelo, Mpumalanga, was my biggest achievement in 2021.

Today I’m a widely published author of various feature articles. And I can claim with pleasure that I have no less than 800 stories under my belt.

【推荐3】My sister Debbie had a baby the other day. Her labor (分娩) went pretty well — nothing out of the ordinary. I just can’t say the same for her ride to the hospital.

As a number of us from the family gathered in my sister’s hospital room to see the new baby, she gave an account of her trip to the emergency room. It began as most do — she woke up around 4 a. m. feeling the early pangs (阵痛) of labor. For the next two hours, she and her husband Bill timed the contractions (孪缩), and around 7 a. m. decided it was time to leave for the hospital.

On the way, however, Bill announced that he needed to stop at Starbucks for some coffee.

“Excuse me?” my sister asked. “I’m in labor — remember?”

“But I might get sick if I don’t have my morning coffee,” Bill explained.

Bill promised her that he’d order the coffee to go. The next thing Debbie knew was that her husband was rushing into their local coffee shop. Inside, the attendants behind the counter recognized Bill, and knew he was expecting a second son, and asked when the baby was due.

“Today,” Bill said ordering his Americano.”

“Today?” the cashier asked.

Bill nodded. “Yep, Debbie is already in labor.”

Everyone offered up congratulations.

“So, where’s your wife?” someone finally asked.

“Out there,” Bill said pointing toward the parking lot where my sister was sitting in the car puffing heavily through a contraction.

“Was she OK with stopping here?” the attendant asked, amazement in her voice.

“Not really,” Bill answered.

“Yeah, that’s probably why she isn’t waving back.”

As my sister concluded the story, Bill looked around at the disapproving faces in the hospital room.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.

“I had to have my coffee.”

I think his mother best summed it up when she announced, “I’m ashamed of my son.”

In his defense, Bill told us that he had been through the labor drill before with his first son, and therefore, he knew he had time for a quick cup of coffee. He also pointed out that he did ask my sister if she wanted something to drink, too.

Finally, Bill looked to me, the only other male in the room and asked if I agreed with him.

“I’m not saying a word,” I replied looking around the women in the room. “We’re outnumbered in here.”

I also explained that if I were ever having a heart attack, I wasn’t calling him for a ride to the hospital.

【推荐2】Harbin has witnessed a significant boom that has caused it to trend on social media this winter. By December 30, 2023, the city airport’s annual passenger throughput had gone beyond 3000 million. According to a new report, during the three-day New Year holiday, Harbin received 3.05 million tourists and made income of 5.91 billion yuan, both of which reached record highs.

Harbin, also known as China’s “ice city”, is famous for its ice and snow culture. For over 60 years, the city has had a tradition of holding an annual ice lantern exhibition, presenting the creativity and skill of its artists. Recently, the Ice and Snow World, recognized by the Guinness World Records as the largest ice and snow park, is just one of many attractions in the city. It features amazing ice and snow sculptures, including replicas(复制品) of famous landmarks, animals, and cartoon characters. In addition, visitors can also enjoy different kinds of snow sports, such as ice skating, ice fishing, and sledding.

Harbin spared no effort to show its sincerity and hospitality(热情好客) to tourists. At the Ice and Snow World, a lot of new experiences have been provided, such as hovercrafts and bicycles on ice, Ferris wheels, and hot air balloons. Tourists were welcomed with live performances at the airport, and dressing rooms were set up for them to change into warm clothing. Local residents supported by traveling during off-peak hours to reduce traffic and offering tourists free rides. For those unable to book hotels, the government opened the Provincial People’s Congress Service Center for low-cost stays.

“For individual travelers, a city’s infrastructure(基础设施) and public services form the foundation of tourism competitiveness. It is only when tourists feel the warmth of the city and the goodwill of its citizens that they blend into the lives of a travel destination,” said Dai Bin, president of China Tourism Academy.

【推荐2】My wife, Hannah, and I don’t usually keep houseplants. Anything in pots gets either overwatered or underwatered, but after my diagnosis (诊断) with brain cancer, I loved the idea of having something green around.

A friend gave me what he said was a lucky bamboo plant in a deep-green bowl. We placed the plant in the living room and I told Hannah I wanted to care for it myself. When it didn’t immediately turn yellow or lose leaves, I was pleasantly surprised. Tending to the plant gave me a sense of accomplishment when I sometimes felt useless. As a family physician, I was used to offering care, not receiving it.

Since my diagnosis, I had to rely on help from other people. Watering the plant, small act as it was, connected me to a core part of my old identity.

After I recovered from the operation and returned to work, I continued to care for the plant. Soon, it had nearly doubled in height. Both the tree and I were thriving (茁壮成长). Then, without any reason, it began to show signs of stress. Its leaves kept browning and dropping to the floor. Hannah reminded me that we’d seen houseplants die before, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the plant had become a symbol of my health. I grew increasingly depressed and fearful.

Looking back, I realized I had wrongly connected my caring of the plant—something I could manage—with my own survival—something I couldn’t. Knowing I couldn’t control my fate (命运), my anxiety actually lessened. I began to search online to figure out how to care for my plant. Following the instructions, I transplanted the tree to a larger pot, giving it room to grow. When it was back in the sunny window, we both began to thrive again. Whenever I look at the plant in its new pot, I make a point to think of those who have cared for and supported me.