This week we had the opportunity to visit the South African Holocaust & Genocide Foundation’s Cape Town Holocaust Centre. The Holocaust Centres (there is also a Durban Holocaust Centre and a Johannesburg Holocaust Centre) serve as a memorial to the six million Jews who were killed in the Holocaust and all victims of Nazism. They teach about the consequences of prejudice, racism, and discrimination. It was my second visit to the Cape Town Holocaust Centre, and also the second time that I had the privileged opportunity to hear Miriam Lichterman (a holocaust survivor) share her story.

The South African Holocaust & Genocide Foundation is dedicated to creating a more caring and just society in which human rights and diversity are respected and valued. It seeks, by promoting an understanding of the dangers of indifference, apathy, and silence, to encourage empathy and compassion and a deeper understanding of what it means to be human. The 2013 SAWIP Team certainly learnt a great deal from Tracy Petersen (Education Director at the Cape Town Holocaust Centre), Richard Freedman (National Director of the South African Holocaust & Genocide Foundation as well as Director of the Cape Town Holocaust Centre), and (especially) Miriam Lichterman about what it means to be human.

The question that the experience provoked in my mind is: “How does it come to pass that people (individually and collectively) fail to recognise, respect, value, and affirm the innate humanity and dignity of every individual, to the extent that tragedies like the Holocaust occur?”

While I do not have a comprehensive response to this question, I do think that part of the answer is that it happens over time and as a result of our failure as individuals and society to be (in both private and public life) vigilantly self-aware, self-evaluative, and critical of our attitude and actions towards others and the consequences thereof. It happens when we fail to take responsibility for the influence we have and the contribution we make in our day-to-day life. Our individual actions and contribution may seem small, but they are interconnected and mutually reinforcing. Our individual and concerted actions and contribution send forth a tiny ripple of hope that, combined with other ripples of hope, can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression, suffering, and injustice.

In order for the mantras of “never again” and “lest we forget” to be more than just words, it is up to us to (in the words of Miriam Lichterman) “remember not to forget” to every day, and in every interaction, recognise, respect, value, and affirm (by our attitude and actions towards others) the humanity and dignity of every individual. In essence, we must never forget to love each other. In the words of Viktor Frankl: “Love is the ultimate and highest goal to which humanity can aspire; the salvation of humanity is through love and in love.”

My status as a privileged South African citizen is something that I recognise, acknowledge, and am always conscious of. The primary reason for this status is my education, particularly my tertiary education. As a consequence of the education I have received and am receiving, I am in the privileged position of being able to pursue the kind of life I consider valuable and worthwhile.

With this privilege and opportunity comes the responsibility to pay it forward (or give back). For me, this means intentionally using my influence and talents in the service of others: to put community before individualism, public good before private good, and commitment to service before cynicism and despair. This is a responsibility that I accept.

In response to this responsibility that I have accepted, I often ask myself the following questions: “What can I do to effect large-scale social change in South Africa?” “What will my great contribution be?” “How can I change the world?”. While commendable questions, they are also (to some extent) defeatist questions that promote cynicism and despair. They can lead to responses such as: “How can I, one individual in a world of billions hope to change anything?”

We should avoid the urge to quantify the change we effect. We also should not postpone making a difference to some distant future date when we think we will be in a (better) position to effect large-scale change or make a great contribution. The truth is that we are all effecting change all of the time. Our actions are all purposeful, and all produce effects. Every single action a person takes has far-reaching consequences. No matter one’s age, physical condition, financial situation, pigmentation, gender, emotional state, or belief; every choice one makes and every action one takes matters.

History consists of the combined effects of the many small things that “ordinary” individuals do every day. History, as Leo Tolstoy put it, comprises: “An infinitely large number of infinitesimally small actions”. We effect change from the moment we get up in the morning till we go to bed at night. We effect change both through the things we do, and through the things we do not do. Even the simplest action or inaction (in thought, word, or deed) we take for our lives matters beyond measure because it effects change, it makes a difference.

The real problem is that if we are only effecting change unconsciously or unintentionally, then we are probably not producing the effect we would wish for.

 

“I am only one; but still I am one. I cannot do everything; but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.” – Edward Everett Hale

“I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.” – Mother Teresa

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” – Anne Frank

“If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way.” – Napoleon Hill

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." – Leo Buscaglia

It often seems that just as we come up with one term that allows us to talk about or describe a group of people with ease, they go and challenge that label. The youth in particular is all about rejecting labels. It seems that the latest to be rejected after hipsters and ‘change-makers’, is ‘The Youth’. This term, a favourite amongst the ‘youth of today’, politicians, our parents and avid tweeters  is one we hear spoken about all of the time.  The youth are the future of South Africa; The youth are apathetic; The youth “are not offended enough”; The youth “should avail itself”; The youth should be talking about …; The youth must …; The youth should….

This post is by no means a ‘watch your jargon’ lesson. Words and terms come and go; most often we  merely replace terms that we no longer like with ones that look and sound different, but essentially mean the same thing and will be used the same in the same, sometimes mindless and unintentional fashion.  The fact that in this blog entry I am likely to now just swap ‘the youth’ for ‘young people’ proves this. The point of this piece is just to share something interesting that I have observed, so bear with me, especially if things get sticky and controversial.

As I mentioned the term, ‘the youth’ is as ancient as, well, as 'young people' are not. However, more and more, when it is used I find myself catching a few shared glances, eye-brow raises, and the same question being asked  “Who is the youth?” amongst the young listeners.   Why is this?  Or rather and more importantly, why is this interesting?

Let me use the ‘Born Free’ generation (something quite close to home as my team might note) as an example. When I think of this term, it makes me think of a generation of young people who are free, first and foremost. I associate a sort of privilege with this label, and sense a special kind of pending responsibility that comes with it.  We know that the 1993-babies did not choose this term for themselves, just as no youth has never chosen to be called 'not offended enough' , apathetic, idealistic or even bright. In fact, many may challenge the notion of being free and privileged.  Alluding to the same generation which I spoke about in my last post, I am sure the older generation of leadership in South Africa did not necessarily call themselves ‘heroes’ when they were young, as we label some of them today. Perhaps they did not even call themselves leaders.  It is more likely that when they were young, they would have been ‘the youth’ and even in the absence of twitter, people would have said: “the youth are in revolt” or  “the youth are violent, unruly”. What is significant is not how this term excludes many young people who were not in revolt, who were not angry, and who may today be called apathetic or ‘ inadequately offended’ themselves. What is interesting is that this generation took ownership of its labels and in doing so, its story, whether consciously or unconsciously.

I look up to catch these moments of shared thinking, or smiles or winks between my team all the time. What I have spoken about here might not be a sentiment that we all share, but I still see us as a small sample of young South Africans ready to challenge generalisations, or alternatively embodying the complete opposite them. It delights me that we are so selective and critical about accepting a purpose or narrative (here's some more jargon) that anyone else may give us, especially as we dabble in our generational identity crises with the rest of South Africa.

It is as simple as that. Anything we do for others means nothing if it is not done with love. This is the message I found highlighted in our community service/interaction session in Robertson on Saturday 4 May 2013. The motto of the Graham and Rhona Beck Skills Centre is “nothing less, than our utmost best”. It is always heartwarming when you meet individuals who are willing to give so selflessly back to their community. It is, however, sad when you find that they feel that the change they want to see is not happening fast enough. It is easy for us to congregate and decide what we can do to contribute towards the well being of a community which we are not a part of because in essence, whatever the outcome may be, it will not affect our own well being. As a team it is different for us. We are passionate about making a difference, leaving our mark, being impactful. Yet, we realize that we are faced with constraints beyond our control. It causes me great frustration that we can only do so much in such a short period of time and hope that it is sustainable and has a ripple effect throughout the community. I could relate to so much of the challenges the people of Robertson are faced with because it is very similar to that of my own community. The issues of teenage pregnancy, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, substance abuse, and the issue that moves me the most because of its often overlooked importance, the lack of community leaders and role models. The problem that people seemed to be having was that they could not see life beyond the mountains that surround them. What we would consider a stunning view was a major hindrance for the development of this community because no one could see a future beyond it. The fact that the elders of the community lacked this vision is somewhat expected because as humans do, they get comfortable and prefer the known and start resisting change. However, it is shocking to find that none of the youth have dreams beyond that mountain. They are uninspired, unmotivated and unambitious. This of course is not an insult at all to the youth of the community but rather what should be seen as a result of the lack of guidance and leadership. They have never come across anyone in the community who has gone beyond the mountain and come back to tell tales of their successes in order to encourage them to do the same. They have no one to admire or to describe as the person they wish to be like some day. There is no one to uplift them and motivate them to dream big. I was lucky enough to grow up in a community where domestic violence, substance abuse, teenage pregnancies and youth dropping out of schools are rampant issues. However unfortunate this may seem, my fortune can be measured by the guidance I received through love by my mother. I had someone who thought of me as their greatest investment and who encouraged me to work hard towards my dreams and never give up. To summarize my thoughts, I end with these three quotes: “The world lies in the hands of those who have the courage to dream and who take the risk of living out their dreams – each according to his or her own talent.” – The Valkyries “Love does not ask many questions, because with thinking comes fear. This might be the fear of being scorned, being rejected or breaking the spell. However ridiculous this may seem, that is how it is. This is why one does not ask, one acts.” – By the river Piedra I sat down and wept. “To teach is to show what is possible; to learn is to make yourself possible.” – The Pilgrimage

 

 

WATCH: http://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story.html

 

After watching this video, I was reminded that while living with a few North Americans and Europeans at boarding school in Italy, I was interrogated about a fair number of “African” stereotypes. Though, honestly the most obtuse assessment came from a grocer in a supermarket in Italy who refused to accept that I was from “the dark continent” as she called it, because I was a light mulatto, like her. There were more of those comments than I’d like to admit during my time in that country. Nonetheless, I took these and countless others as an opportunity to educate, to broaden perspectives and to explain that hyenas are not common pets in my neighbourhood (again, I am not joking).

I encountered the TED talk above in a research seminar in the Drama Department a couple of weeks ago. The root of what we do in theatre is telling stories so I feel this idea of “the single story” is something that needs to occupy our minds when we create work so we don’t fall into the trap. This clip was also my first encounter with the extraordinary Chimamanda Adichie.

I was reminded of this talk a number of times since seeing it the first time, particularly while reading Mario’s blog post and coming back from the Graham and Rhona Beck Skills Centre in Robertson on Saturday. As part of SAWIP 2013 we will be working with the skills centre to implement a self sustaining community intervention programme in one of the sectors of the community where the skills centre is philanthropically involved. We were overwhelmed by the warm welcome we received from the staff at the centre. Throughout the day we were presented with the various programmes the skill centre is involved in, either directly or through the development division of the winefarm, or through their assisting the principal at Langeberg High School. To name a few of the areas of concern: we were made aware of the apathy within the community and how that is also reflected in the lack of community driven support structures, and the problem of alcoholism and substance abuse among the youth as well as their parents.

One or two of the issues discussed reminded me of the reasons my friends and I began working in Bridgetown, an area along the N2 not unfamiliar with drugs or gangs. I began to wonder if this is the stock image we have for the representation of coloured communities in this area of the country. I know, it isn’t but I have no right deciding what other people may believe. I am not disputing the fact that there are negative social issues affecting these communities but I know there is hope in the same streets. I know there is a mother baking bread for a neighbour, or older siblings helping the young ones read, teenagers are singing in backyards or groups of children playing sport. Some of the talks spoke about the wine farm’s involvement in these areas but I think one of the ways forward will be identifying those activities in the Langeberg school community. I would have loved to engage with the learners in the community, to talk to them and understand their situation from their mouths. We will no doubt go back to do a more “on the ground” assessment later.

For any work we do to having any lasting impact it is imperative that we not look at the community through the lense of the data we know or only the general issues. This is People Centred Development; the way forward is finding solutions with individuals who make up the whole: they live there, they have the tools.

Mario’s blog post: http://www.sawip.org/sawip-team/team-blog/entry/everyone-has-a-story-the-power-of-authentically-shared-and-meaningfully-listened-to-stories

The Graham & Rhona Beck Skills Centre: www.skillscentre.co.za

 

 

The challenge I face with writing a ‘reflective blog’ is that there is so much to reflect on, so much to write about, so much to consider, that trying to refine my thoughts and create some sort of clear focus is near impossible for me (almost as impossible as trying to make a square whilst blindfolded).

 

Since my SAWIP journey began, I have been confronted with so many questions, whilst realising that I actually know very little, I have grown increasingly motivated to find the answers.

 

My questions range from “Why is Mario so elegant?” to the slightly more challenging notions of identity and “where I fit in as a white South African female?”. Not forgetting the hard and complex questions on how we should be tackling and viewing issues such as race, education and gender in our post-1994 South African society.

 

I think it is fitting that my first blog focus on a question that encompasses almost every other question I pose, the BIG question if you will. “Why do we care?”

 

During orientation camp Lwamba and I spoke about the feeling of being totally consumed by the challenges facing South Africa. This truly resonated with me, as I am sure it will with all of my teammates. This feeling is so powerful that it is almost crippling. It is a strange combination of feeling ready and willing to march straight into the trials that lie ahead whilst simultaneously feeling helpless to the immensity of such issues.

 

It is without hesitation that the word ‘passion’ comes to mind when I think of why a group of 15 individuals care so much (and boy, do they care) about the future of this country. The roots of such passion may differ, for some it is a result of personal backgrounds, families, and communities, whilst others find their passion despite their circumstances. For many their passion stems from a place of dissatisfaction with today or rather a vision of hope for a better tomorrow.

 

When such social issues consume us, our focus soon starts to shift to the potential to overcome these challenges. We start to rather acknowledge the challenges but instead allow ourselves to be consumed by the potential for positive impact (if I may use such a cliché). It is clear that as a team we have allowed ourselves to be consumed, it has become impossible for us to sit in a car together or share a meal without human rights abuses or anti rape campaigns naturally finding their way into our conversation.

 

This blog is not a tool intended to separate the SAWIP team from the larger South African ‘youth’ but rather act as a 15-person example in which I emphasise that collectively WE DO CARE. Constantly, we are being brushed aside as the (a)pathetic youth (I must admit I have also done this) but I think it would be a great injustice, to all of South Arica, if we do not recognise the potential of our youth.

 

I see it and it excites me.

 

Like I said earlier, I do not know all the answers, in fact I am not sure I know any, but I will keep asking the questions and instead of turning to google I will turn to my team. I have a hunch the answers to many of my questions lie with them. Just like the solutions to many of South Africa’s problems lie within our generation. A youth I view as capable despite constantly being devalued.

 

 

You’ll see.

 

The society in which we live has trained us to be solution-finders. At school we are assessed based on the quality of our solutions to the relevant questions posed to us. In a working environment, we are required to present potential solutions to management based on problems that they have identified. Where we fall short however, is our ability to ask the right questions. We have become incredibly efficient at solving problems, even if they are the wrong ones to solve.

It was at the SAWIP orientation camp this year, where I witnessed the power and importance of asking the right questions. We got the opportunity to meet Sally and Brian, engage with our newly formed team as well as meet and interact with some of the alumni. Conversation was flowing and people were excited to get to know more about the future prospects of our country in terms of leadership potential. Generic questions such as “What do you study? Do you have siblings? Who was your host family? Where do you want to receive professional exposure whilst you are in DC?” were expected and we eagerly revealed more and more about our personal selves as we looked to establish a “base level of knowledge” about the family we are now a part of.

The generic course of the conversation changed dramatically when Erik de Ridder (Alumnus 2011) posed the question, “What is collective leadership and how did Thabo Mbeki and Nelson Mandela differ in their approach to this style of leadership?”. This question not only caught me off guard but it had a lasting effect long after it had been asked. It forced me to think hard about exactly what I did (and didn’t) know about the topic. It made me realize that we, as the SAWIP team of 2013, are ambassadors of South African and should prepare ourselves to answer questions such as this with confidence, backed by knowledge and research.

This simple question lead to a one and a half hour discussion where people who were in the know gave shared their stance and people who weren’t got the opportunity to learn and increase their knowledge on the topic. Furthermore, Brian joined the conversation and gave us his perspective of collective leadership in an African context based on theory as well as his personal experiences.

The divergent and expansive nature of the question that Erik posed framed the entire conversation as an inquiry in which both sides came together to learn and uncover the best solution. As a result, we were lead on a path of self-discovery and self-reflection.

Effective questions are questions that are powerful and thought provoking. Effective questions are open-ended and not leading questions. They are not "why" questions, but rather "what" or "how" questions.

The final thing that Erik taught me was that once the question has been asked, the ability to listen to the answer and suspend judgment is key to gaining the most from the question. It is crucial that we are intent on understanding what the person who is talking is really saying.

Detailed questions are not as exciting as brilliant answers.  They seldom get quoted or boasted about. But without the direction and framework that the right questions create, we would be lost at sea spending all our time and resources finding solutions to the wrong problems.

I end with a quote by Og Mandino, " 

Take the attitude of a student, never be too big to ask questions, never know too much to learn something new."

 

 

 

 

 

We too often categorise people whose stories we do not know, or do not know well, according to conventional, formulaic, and oversimplified conceptions, opinions, or images (i.e. stereotypes). Our interaction with others is too often informed by a preconceived judgment or assumption (i.e. prejudice). This is to the detriment of forming authentic, meaningful connections with others that could result in discovering shared aspirations, and impactful collaboration.

It is important, in every interaction we have with others (especially those whom we do not know or understand well), to remember that people are people first (and all, at the core of who we are, essentially the same); and that every individual has a unique story to tell. Stories are how we make sense of our lives and the world. Stories are powerful. Stories inspire. Stories motivate. Stories challenge. Stories have a profound impact on people. Stories are the language of the heart, and everyone has a story.

The transformative power of stories and storytelling is something that we, the SAWIP 2013 Team, have had the opportunity to experience first-hand. In the diverse SAWIP 2013 Team, the potential for our interaction with each other to be detrimentally influenced by stereotypes and prejudice was dispelled by the sharing of personal stories. Stories, authentically shared and meaningfully listened to, have the incredible ability to foster relationships, because they break down walls constructed by stereotypes and prejudice. It is only once these walls are broken down that meaningful, enriching connections can be formed.

We became the SAWIP 2013 Team less than one month ago. Less than one month, in this context, is not a long period of time. Yet we have laid a solid foundation - greatly aided by starting the process of learning about each other’s story - upon which, I am confident, meaningful, enriching, and lasting friendships will be formed.

To truly know a person, you have to know their story. It is by asking people to share with us their story that we learn about who they actually are. May we, each one of us, have the courage to both authentically share our own story, and meaningfully listen to the story of others.

 

Gathering together a diverse group of young people and expecting them to learn from and find direction through their interaction together puts a lot of pressure on those individuals. In SAWIP, there is an implication that we will naturally learn from each other, that simply putting people in a circle will break down barriers, foster friendships, create shared goals.

I often use this word, ‘learning’, very easily in conversation when I talk about SAWIP and my expectations of the program. As a means of talking about my own personal growth, the word has become quite stale. As a catchall term it has come to represent in some of my social circles a lovely but largely shallow and useless process, a wonderfully fuzzy term that captures the niceties of our politically-correct and diverse population, all colours of the rainbow gathering together in a feel-good ceremony of rich but ultimately impractical approaches to problem solving.

“All this talking, talking. Why don’t you just go out there and do it?”

We have used the term often in our SAWIP camps and I defend it; I genuinely believe in that simple word and that even in the short space of time I have known you I have learned from you about my own approaches to what I want to do in the future and about the different ideas and opinions out there, out beyond me. The first few weeks of getting to know many of you has been a small dose of social integration shock therapy for me and, in a bid to nail down some of this vagueness, I want to tell you what I mean when I say I have learned from you.

In her recent blog post Lwamba asked herself a question I have often asked myself: “What made you think you are so special in caring deeply about the issues?” The idea of a homogenous youth in South Africa (soon the subject of a Mazetti-Claassen blog post I hope!) is a strange one. I thought that coming to SAWIP was to give me a space to meet people doing great things and take from them what I could (and hopefully help them understand some things themselves) to make myself more useful in my community. I had this idea in my mind of fifteen of the same type of people, a paintbrushed model of the young change-maker (an awful term) with a tired but driven zeal, ambitious but with an ear to the ground, a clear conception of right and wrong, a vivid understanding of race and class dynamics.

I left to travel in Africa to look for my own sense of African identity and I searched hard for it, not realising, perhaps, that I didn't know what it is that I was searching for, or that it doesn't exist as I see it. Perhaps the strongest thing I have learned in SAWIP then – and have revelled in learning – is that my one-size-fits-all idea of an active youth is hardly the case at all. We are all vastly different; not just in backgrounds but in outlook, personality, beliefs, what we regard as important, our own judgements. This is what makes me the most excited for this program; that we’re not going to simply discuss and create solutions for problems in our country, but that we are going to argue about them, debate them from completely different points of view, cut them up and dice them, fry them and force ourselves to swallow them. Cooperation is great, but the best medicines burn on the way down.

So we are assembled together and the hope is that we learn stuff from each other. Seems easy enough, but this fails to take into account something very important: that through the very nature of the selection process for the program, the people that have been brought together are strong-willed, used to excelling in some arena, and think of themselves as capable. We live in an individualised society where there is no second place; you come top of the class or nothing, you get the job or nothing, you are the centre of attention in a debate or you’re not given attention. Admitting that you don’t know something is a sign of weakness or incapacity, and a culture of collaboration is barely fostered. My hopes for South Africa are not all optimistic; this doesn't mean that I don't think we can succeed in tackling our issues, but that there are some aspects of our society that we need to put in into sharp focus and be real about.

To learn from others requires humbleness, but I don't believe humbleness can be learned. It is a by-product of the experiences we have and all we can do to engage more is to put ourselves in situations where we can experience new people, places, ways of thinking. Surrounding myself with my SAWIP team has taught me to be excited, not necessarily for a positive future, but for a future of positive trying. You are teaching me the ability to be inspired, and I absorb a huge amount of your energy every time we get together.

And finally, what you have taught me relates to something I have thought about for many years and something I have been working on as a sort of personal challenge; that is, the way I judge people, categorise them. The process of lumping people into categories is a core part of human nature, one of the ways in which we deal with a world crammed full of information, particularly when we feel threatened. Often I have been shown that my initial judgements of people have been wrong, and being around all of you has taught me that again and again. Whatever conceptions I held about the type of people I thought I was in a team with have long vanished; the depth of what you have all shared and that I have been fortunate enough to be a part of makes me feel privileged to be on this journey with you. You continually teach me to be aware of the assumptions that I am making.

This is only the beginning of a long adventure. When I think of the next few months I have this amazing feeling of potential that I imagine the explorers of old must have thrived in, of discovering a lost or buried city or forgotten place, one that holds a deep history, full of untold treasures and stories. As we dig down into this place over the next few months I know that I will undoubtedly learn more and different things as we continue to gather and hash out an idea of what our future might look like. I feel lucky to be able to share this with you all.

 

 

 

In September of last year a friend told me about the South Africa Washington International Programme. During the last few months of 2012, I had heard so much about it, and recognized it as the common factor between so many of my peers who I looked up to as leaders that by the time January came, I had long been awaiting the opening of applications. What followed was a good few weeks of trying to answer the reflection-intensive questions that SAWIP posed to all of us. I wasn’t entirely sure how to put ‘my South African story’ into words. I had never thought about how to describe my family, apart from remarking that the lot of us were entirely nuts and I certainly had no idea how best to raise R7000.

 

Today I am about a four weeks into the programme. I still haven’t raised my R 7000, but I am a little clearer on some of my favourite South African stories. One of these stories originates out of our Orientation Camp. Before that weekend, I had carried with me a certain kind of angst surrounding what it exactly meant to be Cara in South Africa, in 2013 when I was not sure where I belonged. For example, I listen to the stories of black South Africans, to the rich traditions that persist even in the most contemporary tales, and I think ‘she knows what is special about her heritage’. I listen to the stories of other South Africans whose parents fought against oppression on the basis of racial classification and I think, “They must be proud of this legacy”. I listen to an Afrikaans boy talking about Dalene Matthee or the Voortrekkers, and I acknowledge the struggle of his grandmother and the magic of the Afrikaner culture. I listen to ‘foreigners’ speak, and I see how they take ownership of their so-called ‘exotic’ cultures. And I listen, not Italian enough to really be Cara Mazetti; not Afrikaans enough to be Clara Claassen and without ancestors who bear scars for me to speak about the struggle as my own. Yet being Cara Mazetti Claassen, English and unaffiliated seems to dismiss too much of what has brought me here.

 

While speaking with my team about a yearning to ‘belong’ that Saturday night outside on the stoep (a word I grab at in my best attempt at multiplicity) I learnt that I did not alone believe that a common South African identity is not accessible to us yet. In the back and forth of debating the usefulness of guilt, anger, shame and that sense of discomfort, I think much shifted for many of us. I listened to the words of my peers in the same way as I listen to the wisest words of those heroes, past and present, who we often find ourselves quoting. Then for a moment, I stopped and wondered if it was possible that for some of these heroes it had perhaps also not all made sense when they were young and part of a ‘South African youth identity’ that is distinctive and revered today.

 

All that I know is that I am now surrounded by young people who have recognized where the country needs them most, and are doing something about it – this is where I want to belong. One small reflection in a much larger journey of realization - I might not have the answer yet. In fact, from that well-loved and well-known ‘change-maker’, intellectual perspective I might not even have the ‘right or ‘important’ question yet. Nevertheless, I now feel a sense of mental togetherness. This is significant given that although my generational placing has spared me from experiencing physical ‘apartness’, I have been experiencing self-induced mental isolation, which may be symptomatic of precisely this generational placing.

 

It is this kind of space, that is cultivated within my team where we ask questions of each other and ourselves, and tackle the multitude of ‘sensitive’ and challenging issues with such fervour,  which is one of the elements of the programme for  which I am the most grateful.

 

Journaling is something I enjoy. Since the beginning of the year I have had to journal my learning experiences at the Sustainability Institute, and so the idea of blogging regularly for SAWIP feels quite normal. This is my first post.

 

My SAWIP journey started two years ago already. A friend of mine, Melvyn Lubega, a SAWIP alumnus, encouraged me to apply in 2011. I downloaded the application form less than 24 hours before the cut-off for submission, and felt that I couldn’t do the questions or myself justice by hastily answering the questions. So, last year I didn’t apply due to academic commitments, but since that day in 2011 I have been looking at the questions and some of the answers on my form this year I wrote many months ago already. 2013 is my year for SAWIP and it’s really exciting!

What I’ve experienced so far has been great. The selection camp left me inspired and humbled by my fellow South Africans’ stories. It was a strange experience too, being under the magnifying lens in front of alumni, the management team and members of the board. I survived. My phone was stolen at the camp grounds, so I was really happy that the SIM swop was completed in time for me to receive Kim’s phone call. Then things started rolling. I was expecting the intensity of the orientation camp at the selection camp already, so I was prepared for it and enjoyed the challenges thrown in our direction during the camp. The SAWIP team has quickly become a space in which I can test my hypotheses and theories and the feedback I’ve been getting is refreshing.

Things really started rolling when I studied the programme of the next six months. It’s a taxing programme, but so worth it. We’ve had three curriculum sessions so far. They have been interesting. The content was of a high standard and stimulating, especially for the community interaction and political history (so powerful on Freedom Day) sessions. Looking forward to the Graham and Rhona Beck Foundation's Skills Centre in Robertson, which we are visiting this coming Saturday.

 

I look forward to the weeks ahead before our departure to DC. We’re a good bunch, the team, and we’ve got lots of stories and expertise to share internally and to the communities we represent. I think our team philosophy so far resonates with the words of Henry David Thoreau: "It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."

 

On the 8^th of April 2013, at 17h49, I received the awaited call from SAWIP’s Program Manager, Kim Williams. It was a call that I had received twice before. She said: “Thank you for applying for SAWIP”. She said it in that tone of voice that one is certain precedes that dreaded word: “unfortunately”. Fortunately, she then said: “I would like to offer you a place on the SAWIP 2013 team”. I coolly responded that I would have to think about it (as if!). My (very quick) response was: “Yes! I accept your offer!” There are still moments, when I think about the fact that I am a member of the SAWIP 2013 team, that it is a little surreal. It is especially surreal to me because of the (SAWIP) journey that I have travelled to arrive at this point.

My SAWIP journey began in 2009. It was in 2009 that I first learned about SAWIP, via one of the SAWIP posters on campus at UWC. I did not apply in 2009 because I had already committed to something else (whose dates coincided with SAWIP).

I first applied for SAWIP in 2010. I made it to selection camp, and while disappointed that I was not offered a place on the SAWIP 2010 team, I was grateful for the experience (application form, interview, and selection camp). The experience was an invaluable exercise in self-learning. My self-awareness was greatly enhanced. I also met people who inspired and challenged me (some of whom I am still in contact with today). It was a truly meaningful experience.

In 2011, I reapplied for SAWIP confident that I had grown in the year that had passed, and optimistic about my chances of going that one step further. I again made it to selection camp, and was extremely disappointed when I was not offered a place on the SAWIP 2011 team. It was, however, through this experience that I learnt one of the invaluable lessons I have learned in my life: how to deal with disappointment (which in life is inevitable). I will forever be grateful to SAWIP for providing me with the opportunity to learn this most invaluable lesson. It is a lesson which has served me well on many occasions since my SAWIP 2011 experience.

I did not apply for SAWIP in 2012 as I had (as in 2009) already committed to something else whose dates coincided with SAWIP.

I applied again this year. On the eve of the selection camp, I was sceptical and felt rather foolish for attending a third selection camp. I thought: “Am I really going to go through this again? Play the rope game again!” (I am not the rope game’s biggest fan). I decided to commit to it. I made the decision to see it as an opportunity to measure my growth, to learn, to be challenged, and to meet new people (and hopefully make new friends).

 

The purpose of me sharing this story is to point out what I have already learnt as a result of SAWIP. I have learnt that the only real failure in life is the failure to:

• Try
• Try again
• Do one’s best in one’s trying (or trying again)

 

Once one makes an attempt, there are only outcomes; and lessons to be learnt from the process. What one chooses to do with those lessons is what is most important. We can choose to use those lessons to either become better, or to become bitter; to either improve, or to stagnate.

One of the many pearls of wisdom shared by Viktor Frankl, in his book Man’s Search for Meaning, is the following: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” In the final analysis, we are each responsible for our own life and character: for who we are, who we are becoming, and who we become.

It has taken some time for me to arrive at this point in my SAWIP journey. I am very grateful for, and excited about, this journey that we, the SAWIP 2013 team, have embarked on. It is a journey which, in different ways for each one of us, has been hard won. I would not, however, change any part of my journey as it needed to be what it has been. I now get to enjoy the fruits of my tenacity and perseverance. Yet even as I do, I am very conscious of the fact that my SAWIP journey, and the learning and growing that comes with it, has only just begun.

 

 

 

On the 5^th of August 2012, the SAWIP Team attended a presentation by Ruenda Loots who is a project coordinator in the sustainability department of the Stellenbosch School of Public Leadership, and who has a deep passion for conserving our natural environment. The presentation title was “One Plant: Many Futures”.

In Ruenda’s presentation, a part that interested me a lot was the discussion on the global polycrisis. The way in which I understand it is that the global polycrisis is a combination of key challenges that the earth faces in the 21^st century. These challenges are global warming, oil peak, material flows, inequality, urban poverty, food security and ecosystem degradation. A sentence that Ruenda said during the presentation and that got many of us thinking was that “We only have one earth…if we don’t take care of it; we will destroy ourselves and other organisms”. This was quite a scary thought to think about, and the reality is that more damage to the earth, than any other time in history, has been done in the last forty years and humans have been the cause.

Looking at all the global polycrisis challenges, one can notice that money is the root of the majority of problem: Global warming- large factories release dangerous fumes into the air during production of goods to be sold for profit, Material flows- we abstract natural resources and plants from the earth to manufacture products to sell to growing consumer demand, Inequality- our countries have capitalist economies which benefit the rich and systematically excludes the poor, Urban poverty- many people are moving to cities to find employment in order to make an income to support their families, and Ecosystem degradation- land is becoming non-farmable due to being contaminated by chemicals and waste released into nature by mines and factories during their production processes.

In the world we are living in, we all need money to survive, but it seems that we human beings have become so money hungry (greedy) that we aim to make maximum profit at whatever the cost is to nature and to our fellow human beings. Thinking about the recent incident at Marikana, Lonmin mine, here in South Africa; perceived inequality was one of the major contributing factors that encouraged the workers to strike for better wages. In a book I am currently reading, The Spirit Level- Why Equality is Better for Everyone by Richard Wilkinson and Kate Picket, it is said that ”Almost all problems which are more common at the bottom of the social ladder are common in more unequal societies.” These problems include violence and poor health.

Solutions to the global polycrisis challenges are complex and can never be easy to formulate, and overcoming them will require cooperation between governments, private sector, and most importantly, civil society. No country on earth is immune to the global polycrisis problems; therefore this means that we as the human race need to collectively start thinking of innovations for increased environmental sustainability and work towards creating economic structures that are more inclusive of everyone. In Ruenda’s words, “We only have one earth…if we don’t take care of it; we will destroy ourselves and other organisms”.

In one of our early dialogue session after returning from Washington, we were fortunate to meet Janine, one of South Africa’s soulful and inspirational singers.

Born on the Cape Flats, Janine has grown up being exposed to many challenges and has experienced many of them herself. Janine has been raised in an area that is filled with crime, gangsterism, and drug abuse. Lucky for her, she was born by principled and deeply loving parents, who strived to provide all they could for Janine and her brother.

From a very young age, Janine noticed all the wrong and the difficult circumstances that people in her community were living in. At the age of 12, she started to experience frustration as many people around her never seemed to understand her when she tried to explain the dire living conditions in her society. With a dream and vision of a better living environment, Janine then turned to poetry to try and tell the story of her community, her family and her own personal issues.

Because of a musical influence at home- parents liking blues music and her brother a hip hop lover, Janine soon started to express her thoughts about the challenges faced by the Cape Flats community through music. Being home trained and without any formal study of music, Janine began using music for social change and has joined and supported many local NGO’s, to encourage young people to have a positive attitude in life, and to express themselves in any art form they are passionate about.

Today, Janine’s stage name is Blaq Pearl. What makes this phenomenal musician special is how she has come to realize and has established her true identity as a Khoisan and not a coloured. This resulted in her shaving all her hair and dressing in authentic African wear.

Showing us her wisdom, during the dialogue session, Janine shared a story of how one is viewed a ‘better class’ when the person speaks English to the teller at her local supermarket; when one speaks Afrikaans (home language), they are viewed as ‘lower class’. Janine urged us not to look down on our culture and language, and to be proud of who we are and where we come from, no matter where we are. Janine Van Rooy is truly an phenomenal African woman and an inspiration for a

A life story is a story filled with both happy and sad or painful memories. It gives one a wonderful feeling remembering all the good moments of the past; the painful memories are never pleasant to think about though and often bring tears to one’s eyes. Well, with the good and the bad, here is my life story.

My name is Thamsanqa Tembani. I was born 9 December 1989, at Red Cross hospital, in Cape Town. I am the only child of my mother, Nosipho Gladys Tembani. For the first two and a half years of my life, I grew up with an aunt of my father, at NY 150 Gugulethu (in Cape Town). When I was three years old, my mother took me to Transkei, in the Eastern Cape (E.C), to live with my grandmother in a village in Cofimvaba, named Qitsi.

I spent two years living in the small and rural village of eQitsi. Though I can’t remember much from this period of my life, things that I do remember is the love and care I always received from grandmother, and how she always made my favourite meal, mpokoqo. One thing she always shouted me for was that I always came back home dirty, after playing with other children. Growing up in Transkei, a boy has to take out cattle, sheep and goats for grazing in the field and bring them back home in the evening for milking. Though I cannot clearly remember doing this, with my love for animals and farming, I am sure I accompanied my elder cousins when they did this chore. When I was five years old, I moved to a small town in E.C named Tarkastad, where my mother worked as a teacher.

In Tarkastad I lived with mother and three cousins, in Zola Township. I started crèche in 1995 and in 1997 I went to Tarkastad High School (has classes from grade 1 to grade 12), where I started grade one. I studied at the school up to grade 2 and then I moved to Cape Town and studied grade 3 and 4 at Chapel in Woodstock. After two years of living without mother, I missed her, and I went back to Tarkastad and finished the rest of my schooling there.

Though Tarkastad is a small town, divided into a town and a township, it exposed me to many of life’s realities. Because I went to a ‘white’ crèche and a model c school in town, I had many white friends. As I visited many of my white friend’s homes in town, I realised how they had everything and how people living in the township were struggling to survive. One thing I also realised from my friends homes is that they lived with both their parents; many of the homes in the township were headed by single mothers, and this was the case in my home.

Seeing that my friends had fathers in their homes, I started to wonder where was mine. I remember asking mother and her reply was simply that he is not here and he does not care about us. At the time, mother said this in a light-hearted manner, and it never really bothered or hurt me. As I grew up and matured, the words stuck with me and they started to hurt. Time passed and I got to know that my father lives in Cape Town and is a manager at Edgars (clothing) store. Growing up I thought he could not live with us because he was struggling financially, but after I got to know what work he does, I realised that he is just a man who could not take responsibility for his own actions and that he had fathered many kids before and after I was born. Till today, I have never received a call or had any visit from the man who is my father.

Growing up in Tarkastad with mother and many cousins, it was always difficult to make ends meet on a small teacher’s salary. Mother was the only provider for everything and she always strived to ensure that we had everything we needed. Because she wanted to see our family educated, mother took the children of other family members who were struggling and educated them.

Though we never had everything, growing up with many people at home, there was never a dull moment. The house was always filled with fun, laughter and love. Mother has been and still is the backbone of our family.

When your mother is a journalist and your sister and best friend are media studies students, a healthy appreciation for freedom of speech is socialized into your DNA. As a South African, the bombardment of the protection of information bill, the media tribunal and the Spear saga keeps this debate and appreciation alive and hale.

But the recent violent riots and protest spurred by the amateur anti-Islam film "Innocence of Muslims" makes me question the absoluteness of freedom of speech.

Freedom of speech protects the right to advocate your beliefs, no matter their ethical interpretation, if they do not violate the rights of others. Under this right, people are allowed to advocate certain immoral beliefs freely, if they do not slander or do harm to others.

The film Innocence of Muslims depicts the life of the prophet Muhammad, portraying him as a child abuser and womanizer. The 14-minute length “film” is filled with such Islamophobic propaganda, mocking the Prophet Muhammad as a fraud.

This film is clearly more than just offensive and immoral – it is irresponsibly hateful. But when does freedom of speech transcend into the incitement of violence?

For this classification to be legally valid, the material must encourage the partaker to commit a violent act towards another party. If Charles Manson writes a manifesto, encouraging his followers to take up arms and start an apocalyptic race war, that is incitement to violence. Unfortunately, it does not restrict the use of hateful provocation by parties that leads to retaliation.

Upholders of this argument state that parties cannot be held responsible for the irrational reaction of others, and that any material could elicit a retaliatory response. Individuals could decide to take offence at Richard Dawkin’s denouncement of creationism. If they violently attack him, was he inciting violence by merely speaking against their opinions? Is this a misapplication of “incitement of violence”, or does the provocation justify retribution?

No, it does not.

But neither is it responsible or fair to provoke an already volatile environment. It is reckless to wield your right to freedom of speech by slandering a sensitive issue, which is known to incite a passionate or divisive response. Hate speech is not a constructive form of social criticism, especially where religion is concerned.

I am an advocate of freedom of speech and expression. I will, however, never condone the abuse of this right in sensitive environments which can lead to violence. Volatile issues should be treated with the necessary sensitivity, respect and diplomacy.

American schools, embassies and citizens have globally been under attack since the film went viral. Four American were killed in an attack on the U.S. Consulate in Benghazi. The free speech of a select few Americans has incited the violence of protesters, across Asia, Africa and the Middle East.

Most of the countries with the severest riots are countries that have far more suppressive environment than the United States, with more restrictions on freedom of speech and expression. The difficulty is to emphasize that this act of hate was by individuals, and does not represent the view of the United States’ government or populace at large. Most of thee countries do not have a culture of free speech, so acknowledging the right of people to speak in hateful opposition to their beliefs is incomprehensible.

We have seen this level of outrage before, in the response to Salman Rushdie’s work, as well as the publishing of cartoons of the prophet Muhammad in Denmark and the burning of the Quran. When we know the potential or precedent for violence our actions provoke, I believe it is our responsibility to weigh the consequences against our need to express ourselves freely.

If it had been a factual film, documenting the civil war in Syria, it is another matter. But this film was a personal attack by a group of individuals. The filmmakers were not critically analysing the Prophet Muhammad’s legacy. They did not intend to explore any relevant theme, or deliver social criticism. The nature and motivation of the film does not warrant protection as freedom of speech. It is hateful, irresponsible and should be condemned as such by all, along with the violence of the retaliation.

If we are to advocate harmony and peace, we need to condemn both the act and the response.

Two weeks ago, the SAWIP team had a session on American elections with U.S delegates from the republican and democratic office. What had seemed to me a session not worth attending, because of my lack of interest in politics, sparked a curiosity and intrigue on this subject. When it comes to politics one can talk for hours or even days and dissect the topic into different facets and components, but here I discovered something else about politics than the usual legislative or parliamentary issues. What came up in this session was the concept of leading with values and beliefs, and of being held accountable for those values and beliefs. This got me thinking as to how politics actually work, or rather should work; I began to understand politics a little bit better. This philosophy behind politics seems sound, but it is known that leaders have governed with immoral and tainted principles and beliefs. But thinking about this principle or value driven system of governance in the context of South-Africa, made me realize it either doesn't exist or is lost in the politics of today. When I think about politics in this sense I realized; people vote for ideals and not ideas, people come out to vote not only because of what you believe, but what they believe and see reflected in you; a shared believe. We need people who can stand up for our beliefs when we are unwilling or unable to. We need people to create an environment which is governed by the values of the people and in so doing create a positive, peaceful and uplifting nation that we all can excel in. We need those people that believe, what we believe, that value what we value. We need them to create a safe space for us to practice and live out our values and beliefs, without being judged or discriminated upon.

 

If our leaders would understand this principle I am certain that South-Africa and the world would be a better place to live in. Of course this in not easy, especially in our diversity of class race and culture, but I believe this provides the opportunity for us to become united. Our constitution makes provision for leaders to lead with values and character, but we seldom find leaders willing enough to state what they value and believe and being open to be held accountable for that. We often lay strong criticism and judgement on politics when it is not the politics that is at fault, but the way in which politics is being practiced. Our politicians, just as our nation needs to be re-educated about governance and democracy. If we could teach our future leaders to practice politics on the right principles; with values and beliefs, ideals and ideas, we can achieve the standard of living which we are capable of, we can overcome our many complex challenges crippling our society, and because of this I believe there is hope for South-Africa.

This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it 16 4 2286 14.0

While reflecting on the past six months on the South Africa-Washington International Program, it dawned upon me that I had yet not written about one of the most difficult experiences of my life, which happened to take place in Washington DC: the visit to the Holocaust Museum.

 

 

It took me a long time to make my way through the entire permanent exhibition at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum—a very long time. I was lost in that place.  I could not understand what was going on. I remember gliding between the exhibits and information boards in a semi-detached way, never quite sure what to make of the images and information I was taking in, but never missing a word of text or a detail in the fabric of each item on display: each crease in the striped pyjamas, and the stiff smell of leather. Those shoes!

 

I felt like a voyeur; I was not meant to be there. These were the things of other people—human beings, each one of them. And they suffered. And I who had escaped such a fate by virtue of time and space, I who was alive was bearing witness to a past evil at the hands of other people—human beings, each one of them. And they suffered… didn’t they?

 

As I walked, it was like fiction.

 

Some time later, during a facilitated debrief session with a museum staffer, I entered my body and I cried. The internal conflict that raged between my disbelieving mind and my shamed body made it difficult for my heart to reconcile this Holocaust thing with Humanism. It was a crisis that I was undergoing, and it frightened me and left me in a state of deep despair.

 

We say, ‘Never again,’ but it happens again.

 

I said this to the group as best I could, but even those words—a Crisis of Humanity—were not enough. But they would do.

 

I am glad for my team. It was my team that expressed to me the importance of never losing spirit. Some fights are tough, and sometimes it is necessary to slay the beast thrice or four times before it is defeated, and even then it may rear its head again. And then again we must fight. Like Sisyphus we must roll the boulder back to the top of the hill, each time it rolls down. Despair is part of life; it is that part which makes happiness so beautiful. And it is our Crises of Humanity that allow us to sing in the calm.