On Saturday the fourth of May the SAWIP 2013 team visited the Graham and Rhona Beck Skills Centre about 15 kilometers from Robertson on a farm called Madeba. The purpose of our visit was to gain some background on the work that the Skills Centre does and of the community that it serves. This background will help us, the SAWIP 2013 team, to determine how we could serve that community when we get back from Washington DC in July and give us a picture of what the road ahead looks like. The road ahead at this stage looks more like a stretch between Fort Hare and Umtata in the Eastern Cape than a turnpike in the USA. The Head Master of the Langeberg Secondary School in Robertson gave us a presentation on the problems that he faces on a daily basis in improving the lives of his students. He explained that high levels of teenage pregnancy, substance abuse and a high prevalence of Foetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) are symptoms of a community without leadership and ambition. Parent apathy is so widespread that the Head Master noted that he would be lucky to have 25 parents attend a parent-teacher meeting for his 900 students. Broken households, abuse and abandonment really snatch away any opportunities that the children in this community may get to uplift themselves before they are even made aware of them. Some people spend their whole lives without putting a foot outside of Robertson. This fog of disillusionment becomes truly dense when one takes into account that any Further Education and Training (FET) courses that are offered by the college in the area (university education is simply out of reach) are exclusively assessed in English – the community is almost completely Afrikaans-speaking. No one enrolls in FET courses not because they aren’t competent to achieve the substantive requirements of the courses but simply because they aren’t proficient in the compulsory language of assessment. This is a reality of South Africa in 2013! A week ago we celebrated Freedom Day. Drop-outs deal drugs to soon-to-be drop-outs. If you pass grade 12 you’ll most probably not be proficient in English and without the option of studying an FET diploma the only option is joining the saturated unskilled labour market. But keep faith. I’ve always been aware of the presence of these realities. I’ve always known of the gross inequalities that exist in South Africa. These social and economic problems have existed for years; this is not a new phenomenon. But now, through SAWIP, I have the opportunity to help addressing them – and I am not alone. I have the help of fourteen other exceptional young South Africans who share a passion and determination that won’t easily be subdued. The work being done by the Graham and Rhona Beck Skills Centre is taking massive strides in allowing members of the greater Robertson community to take advantage of the freedom of a new South Africa. And there are many other organisations, with the same level of commitment and passion; that share the goal of an equal and prosperous South Africa. The road ahead is long and foggy, not without potholes and the occasional crazy taxi driver, but we’re determined to make it and most importantly – we’ll walk it together.

 

Whose blood is more red?

The truth that makes men free is for the most part
the truth which men prefer not to hear.
--Herbert Agar, A Time for Greatness (1942)

When walking into the Holocaust museum my initial thoughts were actually quite simple. “You might get emotionally touched, but this was never your battle so it shouldn’t make you distraught.” I already knew at the back of my mind that not many people would be able to walk through the Holocaust museum and not be moved by something but I thought I would be the exception.

As the elevator doors opened and I entered the first of three floors the museum had to offer, I braced myself for a picture that would immediately put the entire holocaust into context. Almost as if it read my mind the first photograph I saw was of a group of German soldiers nonchalantly smiling and standing in front of a pile of burnt human carcasses. At that point I knew that this museum would be harder to get through than I thought.

As I progressed from photograph to photograph each one telling its own unique story the emotional baggage that each one carried was placed upon me. From the clear struggle etched in the faces of those confined in the concentration camp to the emotional pain of recorded voices of those who experienced the brutal incarceration. It all built upon each other sending me through an emotional ride of frustration, anger, loneliness, terror, joy, relief and other emotions all mixed in a smorgasbord that eventually ended in a feeling of contempt for the visit.

I didn’t want to be there any longer than I had to be. I had seen enough. I wasn’t near the point of breaking down; rather I was closer to the point of wanting to emotionally numb myself to it all. Block my senses as if I had taking a dose of novacaine. I found it easier to block the feelings the museum challenged me with than to accept the emotional challenge it brought. My trip throughout the various floors culminated with meeting back outside with the rest of the SAWIP group and an opportunity to let myself feel again. Take my mind off what I had just witnessed and allow my mind to be free of all those thoughts. As I cleared up my mind a single thought kept recurring and almost as if it was stuck on repeat.

I kept telling myself how none of what I just saw made any sense to me. It just didn’t. Whether you try to rationalize it, logically justify it, interpret it in any other way it would still not make sense to me.  The systematic eradication of  not only the Jewish population of Europe but of all others who were “different” from what was considered the perfect race is something that doesn’t make sense to me.

Whose blood is more red between a Jew and Gentile, Christian and Muslim, Israeli and Palestinian, South African and Nigerian? Whose blood is more red between you and the woman standing next to you in the train? The killing and destruction of those who are different from you simply based on their physical appearance but whose heart beats to the same rhythm as your own remains to me as something that doesn’t make sense.

 

As we discussed as a group what we had experienced in the museum I felt a group wide reflection on their own humanity and that of the people on our own planet. When faced with the question of what would you do if you were a Nazi German, one is forced to raise the question of their own humanity and is forced to deal with their own morality?

 

We talk about how the world refuses to see something such as the Holocaust ever again yet we as the world fail to stop history from repeating itself. Death and destruction seem to follow those who search for a Darwinian response to the nature of humans.

 

I was recently asked why I see myself as black and not firstly as a human. Does the idea of me being black mean that I am different from a white person? Does my difference leave me better or worse off. The world needs us to see each other more as humans who have acknowledged their capacity of creating mass destruction but have chosen to be even more capable of creating a world for all to live in without fear or prejudiced. It is in a human’s ability to acknowledge the truth of our capacity to kill where we will find the power to speak out to such an act.

 

I was moved by the Holocaust museum. I was made to see the truth of what might happen in any society if we remain silent and complacent. Trying to make sense of what doesn’t make sense is a head bashing exercise but one filled with immense personal reward and gain when a solution is found. I was emotionally defeated into numbness by the Museum but renewed in my vigor to help restore and sustain the humanity of our planet.

 

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So not many people are going to enjoy this particular blog but bear with me. I want to ask whoever is reading this blog one question.

WHO ON EARTH IS CONGRESSMAN JOHN LEWIS???

I’m being dead serious about this. I ask this question because until a couple days ago I had no idea who this man was or what his relevance to my life was as well. As many people who do know him can imagine this is really awkward for me. As my fellow SAWIP group members, either stared in awe of this man or had even gone to the extent of reading his book and quoting it. All I could think of was who is this man and how is he relevant to me?

It’s a question that I have come to realize many South Africans as well as Americans would have a similar view or answer to. In fact millions of people across the world probably share the same view.  I had never heard of the man until I entered SAWIP. So when heading into a meeting with a man many seem to consider as a legend, I was filled with a sort of anxiousness one gets when heading into the unknown. I knew that he was important but my mind couldn’t comprehend just how important he was.

As we waited patiently for him to enter the room an intern decided it would be best watching a video about the congressman’s life. That was probably the single worst thing he could have done to me at that point in time. He set up a 3^rd party image of a man I had not yet met which would completely set the benchmark for him. I must admit (and here’s the part people won’t like) while others where in awe I sat there perplexed wondering what was so amazing. He had moments of brilliance that I know I can definitely applaud, but in general a lot of what he said was . . . well . . . nothing new to me.

I’m being very candid about this because it is something that I am personally grappling with right now. I know I should be in awe of him, especially because of all the personal sacrifices he made but I can’t seem to draw it out of me. I can’t seem to put him on the pedestal of Walter Sisulu, Joe Slovo, Lilian Ngoyi, Helen Suzman, Oliver Tambo, Albertina Sisulu, Robert Sobukwe, Steve Biko and the list can go on and on. As I was grappling with why I couldn’t put him on that pedestal I realized it was because I could not relate to him. I couldn’t realize that what he fought for was exactly what all my personal heroes fought for.  Fighting for the chance to be equal in front of the law and society.

It made me wonder how many other people around the world fought for something quite similar and I don’t know about them. How many other people in the world were beaten to a bloody pulp that I don’t know about? So this blog is dedicated to all those who have ever stood up against an unjust system and haven’t been recognized. All those who have once given up their lives fighting for what they truly believe in and who’s sacrifices made this planet a better place. This blog is to remind all those reading it to acknowledge the sacrifices made by these people and celebrate their lives and contributions regardless of how big or how small it may be.

So for me the question still stands. Who is Congressman John Lewis?  I’m not going to pretend to believe and he instrumentally changed the way I see the world. He still (even after meeting him) remains a person that I don’t seem to relate to. A person who I can’t say directly affected my life. A man, who has no sacred place in my heart. He remains solely in my mind as a freedom fighter in a land far from my own.

It’s that last part that I will probably take away from my meeting him. He remains a person who fought for freedom regardless of the peril that laded before him. I can respect those who are freedom fighters regardless of their country or origin. Because when you fight for what’s right, you deserve respect.

So who is Congressman John Lewis to me?

Not a legend, not a man of who has completely changed my life, not a man I would notice walking down the street, not a man who will make me gawk in his presence. Congressman Lewis me is a simple freedom fighter. The greatest breed of humans this planet will ever have.

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Hello everyone. I’m Alli and I have nothing to say.

I know this sounds like the introductory round of an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting – or in this case a Voiceless Anonymous meeting – and it is completely out-of-place in the forum of a SAWIP blog. I do know this. However, for me having nothing to say is so incredibly out of character that I must share it.

 

This is my introductory SAWIP blog and those of you reading it probably don’t know me at all; allow me to share with you that it is a somewhat bizarre occurrence for me to not have anything to say. I enjoy speaking and I enjoy writing; for some reason, when faced with writing an introductory blog post, I realized that I have very little to say.

 

I think this is because I’m completely overwhelmed – overwhelmed with fear and overwhelmed with excitement.

 

The team of which I am privileged to be a part is one of dynamic individuals, each of whom have so abundantly proven that their voice should be a formative one in the narration of the future South African story. This team overwhelms me; not only because each person can so intelligently and articulately critique my opinions and present their own, but because their energy, passion and brilliance are overwhelming. In the past week, I have had discussions with people – team members, team leaders and guests and friends of SAWIP – both in a group and with individuals, who have challenged and altered my perceptions of myself and South Africa.

 

Last weekend we visited a community development project in Khayelitsha that epitomized authentic, grass roots Development – be it on a small scale. Vivian Zilo has changed her community. Her world – in the most limited scope of the word – and the lives of those in her reach, have improved because of her. (Read more about Vivian and the Iliso Society Care at http://www.ilisocaresociety.org.za). This is invigorating; this is overwhelming. If Vivian can change the world for the people around her, in terms of how they perceive themselves, their space and their opportunities, how many other people can do the same? Vivian has had an enormously challenging life; she successfully finished school, saved up money from serving as a domestic worker to put herself through university, and has made – and continues to make – a fundamental difference in her world. If Vivian can so radically alter her world, what is stopping so many other people from changing their worlds?

 

Vivian’s story served to remind me that while we may spend hours debating politics, or macroeconomic policy on an abstract level, these issues are about people, as much as they are about ideological supremacy or theoretical engagement. People have agency. Because of systems and policies, or in spite of these, individuals make their lives; individuals change their worlds. People are so much more than we can be reduced to in simple statistics about the poverty line or a GENI coefficient. I am not making the argument that people are not systematically oppressed, or that societal structures leave all on equal-footing. But people have agency – agency to change ourselves, others and our respective worlds.

 

This is overwhelming. As a Politics student, when faced with theses questions I would quite like the level of abstraction involved in theories of voting patterns and democratic consolidation. I am overwhelmed by people, by potential, by the individual, by my team, by South Africa – both in its problems and its triumphs – and by my own agency and ability to change my world. I am fearful, but I am also invigorated and inspired. I remain in awe of my teammates, who are such incredible examples of people being able to change their own worlds.

 

So while I may not yet having anything profound to say, I can tell you this: I am overwhelmed, scared, excited and filled with anticipation – for the SAWIP program, for recovering my voice and for the future of this country.

 

 

A vexing question: What does it or should it mean to be a young leader in South Africa today?

 

 

"This world demands the qualities of youth: not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the life of ease." As it were, Robert Kennedy stated this in a speech delivered at the University of Cape Town, 1966.

 

The most significant block of youth in the country, which we speak of the very often, are likely to never have read anything written about them in major news forums.

 

It's not about remembering our heroes as part of our legacy and heritage; it is about remembering their ideals and their magic and making it alive within ourselves. A name does not do to history what the motives for the actions of the agent do.