Some of my fondest memories are going on family trips to Lake Kariba. Often we would spend a weekend, fishing and game spotting, and simply getting away from the city. Sometimes we would even spend entire weeks up there aboard big house boats and travel far across the lake for many days. I remember it as always being very relaxing to be so close to nature and be able to observe the animals completely at ease. The poem below was one we found in my dad's desk and that is now pinned to the cork board in my room.

The Power of the Zambezi, by J. Edward Woodward

Through the continent of Africa
The mighty Zambezi flows
Over waterfall, through deep ravine
And where dense forest grows.

But such might and power
And so much frantic haste
Through so many generations
Has mostly gone to waste.

So the heads of two great nations,
Engaged with such accord
To Dam this surging monster
And the first skip of concrete poured

Then fifty thousand Batonka people
Had to move from their homes
And the treasure of the wildlife
No more this Vale could roam

As skip by skip the Dam wall rose
Inch by inch did the water.
Animals and Human kind
Would find their lives would alter

But Nyaminyami the River god
Was not pleased by this obstruction
And twice in rage almost brought
Mens efforts to destruction

But in spite of many hardships,
The Dam was at last complete
And now folks from around the world
Come to admire, this engineering feat

So now a mighty lake appears
Where once there was 'a stream'
Filled with many kinds of fish
from Tigerfish to Bream

But this is not the climax
Of this colossal river fight.
For several million people now,
Are getting power and light.

So be at peace Nyaminyami
You have not lost your power
For now millions pay you homage
Each day and every hour

Any many climb the twisting road
Up to the lookout steeple.
To look across that massive lake and see
Matchstick boats and matchstick people.

And so great Lake Kariba
They built a church near you
Not only in memory of the dead
But to inspire the living too.

I think it's safe to say that I have not led a particularly boring life. Most people my age have not had invasive medical procedures, been threatened by a dangerously insane Swede, performed actual feats of magic or gotten into fights with old ladies at the gym. In fairness most of these experiences are hardly things I've sought out and many is the time that I have really hated the situation that has fallen into my lap. True they are usually hilarious in hindsight and hopefully the event of which I am about to speak will become one of them.

For those of you who know me well I don't really need to explain how I get to and from University on days that I have class. But for those of you who don't, strap in. It's going to be exciting. On days that I have class I dutifully load up my satchel, ensure that my fly is done up and then I walk. It's not a long walk, nor is it particularly difficult. There is a minor incline but once I had walked it a few times I feel I built up the stamina needed to get up it every day. The walk itself is not the subject of this little episode, rather it is the people I see.

I like to listen to music, it makes a walk easy and sometimes I pretend I'm Rocky only without all the pointless running and getting into shape. Music also cuts down on the amount of thinking I'm able to do when I walk to Uni so that, when I finally get into class, my head isn't full of the usual crap like "I wonder what would happen if I had laser vision but I couldn't control it." Another feature of music is that it cuts down on the awkward interaction I would usually have to have with the people that are out watering their gardens or washing their cars. Normally I could simply nod, smile and maybe mutter a 'good morning' or a 'garden looks lovely' and then pretend that the song I was listening to had reached a particularly dramatic crescendo and I could therefore be excused wanting to draw out any subsequent dialogue.

A few days ago I was making my way up to campus when I spotted an elderly lady walking out of her house and hacking vigorously away at some weeds. She looked up, spotted me and smiled. My earphones were in so I did my usual; nod, smile and then I made a perhaps fatal mistake. I waved. The old lady, perhaps mistaking this wave for some sort of secret handshake, started to gesture furiously at me. I was rather taken aback but as she continued to gesture I was able to work out that she was calling me over. Normal people would probably have a little alarm bell that would ring at this stage, warning them to simply pretend not to have seen her and continue along on their merry way. Sadly I don't.

I paused my music, took out my headphones, looked both ways, and crossed the road to where the lady was still gesticulating furiously. Immediately she began to grill me as to what I was doing walking along this stretch of road, why I had a satchel and how frequently did I take this route. All of these I answered as honestly as I could, bearing in mind that I was beginning to run late for class. I'm not convinced that my responses actually meant anything to her as she waved them aside and began a five minute monologue about how frustrating her neighbours were and their efforts to utterly sabotage her garden. Like any person raised to be polite I made the appropriate, "Oh I never", sorts of declarations. The sort that indicate you sympathise with the person but that's really where it ends. This was to be mistake number two as she clearly took these to be oaths of loyalty and began showing me all the vandalism around her property and finally extracted a promise from me to keep an eye out for any vandals messing with her trees. Readily I agreed and then made my excuses to leave, thinking that would be the end of that. Unfortunately, as I learned today, it was not.

While walking home from a productive few hours in the library I was spotted by the old lady and once again she furiously motioned at me to cross the road. With a sinking heart I did. When will I learn? It turns out the little old lady had sought legal advice from a friend who had told her she needed to catch the vandals in the act. She proceeded to drag me around her garden showing me hundreds of different cuts on her trees that, honestly, looked all alike and that she could have done herself along with a whole database of photographs of the various cuts. Then she told me all about her evil neighbours who were trying to drive her away and how they had poisoned her trees and were cutting them back. Halfheartedly, I asked why she didn't just report them to the local council and then her true madness was really revealed. While many believe in conspiracies as vast and varied as 9/11 being a hoax, Harold Holt being kidnapped by Soviets and Aliens secretly running the world, this little old lady had set her sights to a far more mediocre one. Namely that the local council was in league with her neighbour to get rid of her. I had unwittingly walked into the plot to an action-thriller except that instead of Bruce Willis and a pretty girl, I had an elderly lady who was probably a little bit senile. But oh how much worse it gets.

During this conversation the old lady had clearly decided I was to be her agent in the black, her silent partner, the ace in the hole. She didn't just want to complain, she wanted to recruit me into her invisible war. So invisible, in fact, that she was the only combatant. She asked me if I knew of any surveillance cameras that she could purchase and I, due to not being google, told her honestly that I did not. Though if I thought that was to be the end of it I was mistaken. The little old lady pulled out a Filofax (who even uses those anymore?) and asked me for my mobile number, so she could contact me once I had researched surveillance cameras for her (something I never agreed to do). This is the point I am most ashamed of. This moment. For when she asked me for my mobile number I couldn't just say no.

From day one I have had manners ruthlessly drilled into me to the point where, if someone were to stab me with a knife, I would probably apologise for inadvertently taking their knife with me. People may know me as sarcastic and sometimes rude but in social situations like this one my manners are the only experience I have to fall back on so when this little old lady asked me for my number I did the only thing I could. I gave it to her. Admittedly I had the presence of mind to give her my old number so, with any luck, I'll never hear from her again but she still managed to get me to write down not only her name, but all three of her mobile numbers and a blind system which would allow us to communicate without her neighbours finding out. Because, as she pointed out, they might open her mailbox and take any letters I leave for her.

Genuinely at this point I feel I have only two options, the first is to simply take part in this insane little war against her neighbours and the second is to fake my own death and then take a different route to University every day.

The really sad part about this story is that every single word of it is true.

The late but final part of this series is here. Any fool can drop an assignment in a submission box but here at Jono's blog we show you how to do it in style.

Cover Sheets

Your epic essay detailing the rise and fall of the fax industry will become an anonymous assignment when it goes into the submission box. Unless you've taken the time to build a close relationship with your tutor (or bribed them) they won't know who you are or what your writing style is. With that in mind you should make sure your name and student number is on every page of the assignment and, more importantly, that there is a cover sheet on there. Without one your assignment might spend days, bouncing from department to department, until it eventually lands on your tutor's desk and they immediately deduct 100000% for being late. Cover sheets can downloaded or found outside of your submission box. Online submissions usually require a cover sheet as well but tutor's are sometimes more forgiving.

Referencing

Remember that great quote you found and included on that fax machine assignment? The one that really brought all your points together in a way that you just couldn't manage? The one you forgot to reference? The one that you're now being accused of plagiarising? The one that lost you your place at University? Always check all your references are in place. Forgetting to reference isn't an excuse that will carry much weight. Also always check you're using the referencing style your professors want. Full referencing guides are available on the library portal.

Turnitin

This is a wonderful program that scans and compares your essay to its huge database and finds any plagiarism. If you simply copy and paste a whole section from Wikipedia then the chances are turnitin will pick up on it and you'll get caught. Not every unit requires you to put an essay through turnitin first but you should always check with your tutor. The important thing to note is that turnitin can take as long as 48 hours to get your essay back to you. Allow for this time because your tutor might not accept it as a valid reason for your assignment being late.

Otherwise you've finished your first University assignment. Once you put it in the box do your best to completely forget about it. Stressing over what result you are going to get won't do any good. My advice is; clean up the mess from the hours of sitting in front of your computer, eat a healthy meal and then go out and do something fun. Regrets about what you should have done can wait.