Gayathri Sathyanarayanan / English

Writer’s Effect.
QUESTION ONE:
Read this feature article ‘I was swallowed by a
hippo’
Choose words and phrases and explain how the
writer creates effects through these descriptions.
I reached over to grab his outstretched hand but as our
fingers were about to touch, I was engulfed in darkness.
There was no transition at all, no sense of approaching
danger. It was as if I had suddenly gone blind and deaf.
I was aware that my legs were surrounded by water,
but my top half was almost dry. I seemed to be trapped
in something slimy. There was a terrible, sulphurous
smell, like rotten eggs, and a tremendous pressure
against my chest. My arms were trapped but I managed
to free one hand and felt around – my palm passed
through the wiry bristles of the hippo’s snout. It was
only then that I realised I was underwater, trapped up
to my waist in his mouth.
I wriggled as hard as I could, and in the few seconds for
which he opened his jaws, I managed to escape. I swam
towards Evans, but the hippo struck again, dragging me
back under the surface. I’d never heard of a hippo
attacking repeatedly like this, but he clearly wanted me
dead.
Gayathri Sathyanarayanan / English

A Trek in the Andes

The pain was worth it, I decided, as I heard my husband
Alfred groan, roll out of bed, and stumble like a wooden
soldier towards the bathroom. I knew that as long as I
lay there, motionless, I would not suffer likewise. Our
problem was that our muscles were unimaginably stiff
after one of the most stimulating experiences of our
lives, for we had spent the last couple of days ‘on top of
the world’ – trekking in the Andes.
***
We had left Puerto Cabello, Venezuela, three days
before, and taken an 11-hour bus journey overnight to
Mérida, a university town 1,500 metres above sea level
in the lower region of that great mountain range. After
a day to acclimatise in this lovely old city, we organised
ourselves for the object of the exercise – to take the
longest and highest cable car in the world to the top of
the beautiful Venezuelan Andes.
With clear skies on a crisp January morning, we were
transported gently upwards for 30 minutes in four
stages to almost 5,000 metres. From the base of the
teleferico, each stage had taken us approximately
1,000 metres higher; by stage three, we were
beginning to feel the effects of the altitude, breathing
more rapidly as our bodies demanded more oxygen
than our usual breaths would provide. Although we
could have stopped there, we had opted for the final
cable car run, an extremely steep climb. We
Gayathri Sathyanarayanan / English

disembarked on top of Pico Espejo (Mirror Peak), only

about 70 metres below the highest peak in Venezuela,
Pico Bolivar, which then faced us.
What wonderful views greeted us at that altitude! We
could almost touch the snow-clad Pico Bolivar across
the ravine, looking like a majestic, ancient and wise
giant lording it over time and space. Below rushed the
tiny, meandering river, just a moving silver thread
woven into the dark fabric of the mountain. No
superlative is capable of describing what we witnessed!
It placed humankind firmly into insignificance as only
minute specks on the landscape.
Where we were standing was sheltered, but the cold
was very noticeable, even though our winter clothes.
Moving into that freezing wind, with all its chill factor,
brought home to us the reality and extremity of our
location. When we had taken photos, we returned to
the lower level. We then started out on our next
objective – a trek across a mountain pass to the small
village of Los Nevados (The Snowfalls). The time was
11am. We hoped to be able to spend the night at Los
Nevados before returning to Mérida the following day.
The journey ahead was only 14.5 kilometres, normally
well within a day’s walking distance. We set off in our
stout walking boots, jeans, shirts and fleeces, carrying
a pack with wind proofs, sun hats, bottles of water and
basics for overnight. Although well-trodden, the route
was far from straightforward, with steep, snaking
climbs that seemed to stretch to infinity and induced in
us a feeling of being no bigger than ants, yet much
more exposed to the stern sky, and more vulnerable to
the whims of the elements. The way was strewn with
slippery gravel, fine sand and boulders of varying sizes,
Gayathri Sathyanarayanan / English

so that it was like attempting an obstacle course across

an ice rink. Only occasionally did we find the luxury of a
grassy cushion beneath our feet. It is not a journey to
be undertaken by the faint-hearted or feeble-bodied!
Four hours had passed, and all we could see were
barren mountains. The route was devoid of other
travellers; the only sign of human habitation was a
couple of tiny, isolated dwellings. By now I was looking
hopefully for our destination, aware that fatigue was
making itself felt, that I had not used sufficient
protection from the UV light – sunglasses, lip salve and
sun cream are a must – and that we should have taken
a first aid kit with us to treat the blisters on our heels.
But there was no village within sight, even distantly.
We had no choice but to press on.

QUESTION TWO:
Re-read the descriptions of:
(a) the scenery in paragraph 4, beginning ‘What
wonderful views…’;
(b) the challenges of the walk in paragraph 6,
beginning ‘The journey ahead…’.
Select words and phrases from these descriptions, and
explain how the writer has created effects by using this
language.
Write between 1 and 1½ sides, allowing for the size of
your handwriting. Up to 10 marks are available for the
content of your answer.

A Visit to Ratafia
Gayathri Sathyanarayanan / English

In this story, the writer travels on foot to a small

seaside town that is untouched by civilisation.
The moment I arrived in Ratafia; I knew I could
transform this place into a world-class tourist resort.
It was a ramshackle, run-down town with a handful of
shops selling essential commodities. The biggest of
these boasted the imposing title, ‘Emporium’. There
was an apology for a hotel, where I was to stay in a
cramped little room with a window too high for me to
enjoy the sea view. The town square, with its sad,
droopy trees, had an atmosphere of yesterday. In one
corner, hiding behind a riot of bushes, stood tiny
church, sadly in need of restoration.

So, what had made me see the potential of Ratafia?

The day before, when I had reached the top of the hill
behind the town, I was stunned by the natural beauty
that lay below. There was the bay with its magnificent
stretch of golden sand and the sea glistening in the
sun, reflecting the brightness like a sheet of glass. On
either side, the mountains fused into a purple haze.
Silence was omnipresent, broken only by bursts of
magical birdsong around me. I descended to the tiny,
forgotten town. I stood transfixed. Even here the sand
was really pure and the water in the rock pools
translucent. I gazed at myriads of fish with their
dazzling colours darting, cruising or just lazing between
the crevices.

As I sat alone, in the one shabby café on the front, my

imagination took over. The bay was extensive enough
to accommodate thousands of visitors in comparative
Gayathri Sathyanarayanan / English

comfort. Once electricity was brought from the

neighbouring towns, there could be five or six hotels, a
casino or two, a truly modern waterpark. New, superior
housing for the well-to-do would spread into the
foothills behind the bay.
Such was my entrepreneurial spirit! Finance was of
course a major consideration, but just think of the
money that my fashionable visitors would bring to my
investment! In my mind’s eye, handsome people
wandered along the spacious promenades, the women
vying with each other to display the most charmingly
casual or the finest formal clothes. Men would stroll in
their smart designer items, or sport full evening dress
for their visit to the Grand Theatre or the All Stars
Concert Hall. Children would laugh happily as they
caught sight of a special park just for them. And
perhaps a very special theme park! The name ‘Everest’
crossed my mind.
The café owner approached, rubbing his hands on his
faded apron. He sat down at the next table. ‘Not much
of a place, is it?’ he asked. ‘We’re cut off from
civilisation; there are no jobs here – you’re the first
customer I’ve had this mornings’,’ I answered, ‘but the
climate … what a perfect temperature! What sunsets!’
‘I suppose so,’ said the café owner, looking over the
bay. ‘Though it’s always like this. The only change is
every week or so when we have a thunderstorm or a
tornado, and then everyone gets wet or blown away.
’But,’ I blurted out enthusiastically, ‘I know a way to
bring thousands of rich people here. Just think of that
guy who takes you to the islands in his boat. He could
buy a bigger boat and make his fortune. ‘The owner
looked at me hard and long. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we had
Gayathri Sathyanarayanan / English

someone like you a year back. Wanted to make the

place some sort of paradise. He gave up quickly
enough. You’ll never interest the people here. They
prefer it the way it is. They may be poor and have no
television or internet, but they like the simple life. You
build a new road over the hills or tempt walkers with a
chair-lift up the mountains and you don’t know what
you’ll let loose. Just ask anyone here. Those islands you
mentioned are real nature reserves – birds and animals
few of us have ever seen. What would you do with our
fish? Put them in some huge aquarium?’ He got up,
wiping his hands on his apron. ‘I’m sure you’re a good
man, but I wouldn’t even think of it if I were you.’

QUESTION THREE:
Re-read the descriptions of:
(a)the town in paragraph 2; (b) what the writer
experienced from the top of the hill in paragraph 3;
Select words and phrases from these descriptions, and
explain how the writer has created effects by using this
language.