Images of Switzerland

Sharing History

I first heard Elif Shafak speak on one of the TED talks. Her gentle, accented voice drew me in to her story. She spoke about growing up with her traditional Turkish grandmother who was a healer in the community. People would come to her with warts which they wanted to get rid of. Her grandmother would draw circles around the warts and, in time, they would shrivel up and fall off. She made the analogy that when we draw circles around ourselves, or build walls to isolate ourselves from others, we are at risk of shrivelling up and dying.

It struck a chord with me, having grown up in apartheid SA and experiencing the walls that the government built around our communities in order to cut us off from each other. If we don’t interact and learn from each other we run the risk of shrivelling up and dying – if not physically, then at least in our attitudes, beliefs and compassion for each other.

I was delighted to be able to hear her speak on more than one occasion last week in Davos. As a child she straddled two worlds – the modern, western world of her educated mother, and the traditional, superstitious world of her uneducated grandmother. In her books she allows space for both voices.

Many societies have a rich oral culture which is deemed to be “lesser” because it is women who are telling the stories.  History is remembered differently by different people and who is to say what is important enough to provide a window of understanding on what went before? 

Listening to her speak I realised that in SA there are many stories which need to be told so that we can get on with the process of healing and move forward. Sometimes all that is needed is for our experiences to be acknowledged, to feel that our voices have been heard. We all need a voice.

Getting back to Normal

Yesterday I was doing a quick grocery shop to replenish the shelves after our trip. It seemed a terribly mundane activity after the week I have just had. In fact I think that you do need to be slightly schizophrenic to travel. One moment you are being exposed to bright minds, the next getting the bread and milk; or freezing at -15 degrees and then being blasted by temperatures of 30 deg as you get off the plane.

The World Economic Forum exceeded any expectations I might have had before I left. I was not sure about the “spouses’ programme” but I discovered that all the sessions were open to everyone with the proviso that, if they were full, partners/spouses might have to make way for participants. But that certainly did not happen at any sessions I attended. So no fondue- or chocolate-making sessions for me...

The rest of the week pretty much fulfilled the promise of my last blog. I have been stimulated and moved by talks on a variety of topics:  music, art, creativity; the future of museums in the digital age; the plight of girls around the world; and the challenges of doing business in Africa.

It is hard to settle down and be normal again after all this stimulation. I had an Oprah-style “aha” moment there at 4000 metres above sea level.  Writers like Henning Mankell and Elif Shafak made me realise why I want to write. Bear with me over the next few blogs and I will tell you more... 

Davos 2013

This morning when I woke up it took a few moments for me to remember what day it was. Since leaving 30 degree weather at home on Monday, I have landed in below-freezing temperatures and it has been go, go, go. In the last two days  I have met the president of Rwanda, listened to the PM of Italy talk about how his country has turned around, heard what three young global leaders think the future of business is, attended a session on de-risking Africa, which was televised for CNBC, and fallen in love with Henning Mankell. I have also had to put on and take off so many layers of clothing several times a day which at this altitude has left me breathless. 

After one too many persons telling me that I was stupid to not take the opportunity of attending the World Economic Forum with my husband, I decided to join him. Usually I don't travel with him on business trips as he gets into  a different zone and is not much fun...

This time, however, the programme is packed full of interesting presentations which I think that he would secretly like to attend, rather than the many meetings he is sitting in. Here there are 2500 business and political leaders, as well as artists, musicians and religious leaders...all putting their heads together to "improve the state of the world".

I'm not sure how much progress they are making but when I hear what the young leaders have to say, I am full of hope that maybe the next generation will get it right. Other than wondering whose bright idea it is to have a conference in sub-zero temperatures, I am in awe of the vision to create a think tank such as this, and the implication that we need an inter-disciplinary approach to create a better world. 

Making a Difference - Cycling for Red Cross

Earlier this year I mused that “being in Cape Town and not doing the Argus was a bit like being alone on New Year’s Eve”.  I mentioned that we might have to start a support group next year...seems like I will be needing a ringside seat...

My son belongs to a tutor group at school which meets three times a week led by teacher, Jenny Campbell. Boys from different grades are in the same group and it is an opportunity for the younger boys to get to know the older boys in a relaxed atmosphere and for the boys to be a support for each other.

Red Cross Children's Hospital - photo from hospital website 

The tutor group has committed to riding the Argus Cycle Tour this year to raise funds for the Red Cross Hospital.Fourteen boys from Grade 8 to Grade 11 are registered to ride, as well as five parents and Jenny.  I asked her what they were doing and why...

“At the beginning of this year I began to feel that I was missing an opportunity to do something more constructive with time, but could not quantify what I wanted to achieve,” she explained. “After chatting to one of the boys who had cycled the event for charity, we all agreed that not only would it be a monumental achievement for us to ride the Argus, but it would provide an opportunity for us to give back to our community.”

Initial contact revealed that the hospital needed R20million, which nearly put a stop to the idea, but the boys figured out that while they were not likely to raise that much money, they could try to raise as much as possible.

They visited the hospital and saw the difference between the wards which have been upgraded and those which have not, coming away with a deeper understanding of the very definite need which exists at the hospital for the new facilities which they plan to raise money for. 

The group spent the morning in the Transplant Ward and the boys saw firsthand what a fantastic job the staff are doing.  To help with fundraising, they shot a video with children in the ward, trying to capture the joy of the children who are being saved as a result of the outstanding work being carried out in less than satisfactory conditions.  “We saw and filmed kids who would not be alive today if it were not for them,” Jenny says. 

“We don’t know how the initiative will turn out, but we are more convinced than ever that it is a fantastic opportunity for us to do something significant.  It is a little scary at times, but we have nothing to lose and everything to gain.  We have put ourselves out of our comfort zones and it feels good.  We have been blown away by the level of support from the staff at school, the staff at the hospital and from the parents in our tutor group.”

“Right now we are dreaming very big.  We are hoping to reach the world with our story and trusting that millions of people will support this very important fundraising drive.” 

“Young children deserve to live and to have the quality of life we all take for granted.  It has been a life changing experience thus far and it is only the beginning!”

Watch this space for their progress...

Raising a New Generation

When my daughter was a few weeks old I remember a distinct moment when I realised that I would do anything to protect her, perhaps even kill if I had to. That mother bear kind of feeling has come back many times over the years – about both my kids. I am not sure when it kicks in. Maybe it is natural after carrying someone under your heart for nine months, or maybe it comes in with the milk. But I now know what my grandmother meant when she said that it doesn't matter how old you are, but to your mother you'll always be a child.

My daughter is in India for a month. I am getting used to the fact that she has travelling genes and enjoys these adventures. But I have been distressed watching the news about the young woman who has died after being brutally raped in Delhi recently. I cannot think of anything worse that could be done to a woman. I know I can’t protect my daughter from everything. I have reminded her to stay in the group, to not go out alone nor with people she doesn't know. All the usual stuff. How much more do you do?

That  young woman was part of the new youth emerging in India; studying further, educating herself to raise a different generation to contribute to building a new world. How do we live in a world where women are so devalued and where they mean so little? Are we becoming immune to all the violence we witness on a regular basis?

The centre of Delhi was closed on the day my daughter arrived, as people protested against the attack and called for the death penalty. We need to join in and protest more loudly against the abuse of women in India, around the world and certainly here in SA. And as mothers of sons we need to make sure that we grow good men so that this cycle of violence can be broken. 

Blue and Yellow Moneybox

Me with Pa circa 1965

Today is the anniversary of my grandfather's birth. I am thinking of him particularly this year as I embark on a new course of study. Pa changed the course of my life with his little blue and yellow UBS moneybox. Every evening, from the pockets of his khaki coat, he would take out the coins he had gathered during the day. He would allow me to put them into the money box. “For your education,” he would remind me. I had grown up with the mantra, “They can take everything away from you, but not your education”. 

He believed fervently that I would have to study further so that I could be independent. By the time I had finished school he had saved enough to pay for my first year at university. With a brave smile pasted on my face and the weight of generations of expectation, I embarked on a very different voyage. 

In 1980 it was no easy feat for "someone of colour" to be accepted by the University of Cape Town. 

Entering university was such a cultural onslaught that I might as well have been in a different country. The campus was overwhelming. I think my entire school could have fitted into the Jagger Hall. There were lecture halls and sports centres,  buses shuttling back and forth, and more "white" people than I had ever seen in my life. And I was able to sit next to them in class, on the bus and in the library. Although, when it came to doing clinical practice in the hospitals, we were not allowed to treat "white" patients.

My grandfather died before I completed my degree and did not get to see me graduate, but as he had envisioned, I am independent. And I did not stop studying. The learning path he set me on more than thirty years ago has evolved to take me to the far corners of the world. Along the way I have earned a few more diplomas and certificates. And here I am embarking on another journey which is taking me back to my alma mater in a new South Africa, without a special permit, simply because I want to and I have the ability. 

There is a quote by Joseph Goldstein a  Buddhist teacher, that goes something like this: “If you are already facing in the right direction, all you have to do is keep on moving”. Pa made sure that I was facing the right way. Happy Birthday, Pa. I hope you can see me moving forward.