Bill and Melinda Gates on Three Myths on the World's Poor - WSJ.com

Unfortunately I didn't get to hear Bill and Melinda Gates speak at the World Economic Forum but I was very inspired by this article in the Wall Street Journal.

Bill and Melinda Gates on Three Myths on the World's Poor - WSJ.com

I did attend a session where a young Syrian women commented on the necessity of hearing the positive news of what was happening. She pointed out that for the refugees in the camps, HOPE was all they had to help them carry on. This article gave me some hope.

'via Blog this'

Karim - the story of a refugee

Today I heard a story about Karim. His father was jailed, tortured and killed. Karim, together with his mother and four sisters was forced to flee his country, Syria, across the border into Lebanon, hopefully to safety. At the age of 13, he was the head of his family and had to go out to earn a living. For the past two years they have lived in a tented camp. Karim goes to work at a place where he is abused mentally, emotionally, physically and, often, sexually. He is grateful that it is him, and not one of his sisters. At least, he earns enough for food. 

Karim is only one of thousands of refugees. It may be five or ten years before he can go back to his country. By then he may have become a drug addict or a gun-runner. Certainly, he would have lost the opportunity to go to school and, probably the chance to make a worthwhile contribution to his country.

For a short while I had the opportunity to walk a few steps in the shoes of a refugee like Karim. I was herded and pushed around, shouted at and threatened, forced to give up what little I had with me in order to get food. I felt out of control, helpless and frightened. I wanted to curl up in the back of the tent and hoped that when I stuck my head out again, everything would have returned to normal. But when I lifted my head, bright lights were shining in my face and I was being shoved somewhere else. 

For me, this was only a simulation. For millions of people this is a reality that has stretched into years and in some cases, a lifetime. Crossroads Foundation  connects people in need with those who can help them. Through the Refugee Run they are presenting at the World Economic Forum, they gave me the opportunity to deepen my awareness and understanding and to make concrete the images from the newspaper and television. One tiny way that I can help is to spread the word. 

Reflections on Improving the State of the World

I couldn't help taking a childish delight in witnessing people, from all over the world, coming together to talk about how they can improve the state of the world. Here's Moshe and Mohammed, Enrique and Navanethem, Cho Yoon-Sun and Olafur, sharing platforms with Elif, Shirin and Aliko, engaging in debate and exchanging ideas. 

This is my second World Economic Forum meeting in Davos and I am energised and inspired by the discussions which I have been fortunate to attend. It's not perfect - only 15% of the speakers are women and 'global' discussion is dominated by the US and Europe. But today I listened to Al Gore talking about global change, Lewis Pugh sharing insights about extreme swimming, and the new Iranian president's vision for his country. Writers and artists debated identity and cultural heritage and Young Global Leaders (under the age of 40) discussed creative solutions to rebuilding nations. 

Imagine that we could sit together like this in our country and listen to each other and share our experiences. After 20 years of democracy, I am deeply saddened by the level of debate in our country. It seems that we are so quick to draw lines to divide and polarise our society. It's always 'us' or 'them' and if you are not with 'us', you must be with 'them'.

Charter for Compassion shared this quote, by Martin Luther King Jnr earlier this week:

“People fail to get along because they fear each other; they fear each other because they don't know each other; they don't know each other because they have not communicated with each other.”

The only way we are going to heal the rifts in our historically divided society, is to start communicating with each other. Let's take time to listen to each other's stories. We have a wealth of experience which, collectively, can build a strong and stable nation. 

Wedding Season Part 2

It seems that the 20-second wrap-pleat-tuck-and-drape sequence that looked so effortless in the shop must come with a lifetime of practice. They had offered to sew in the pleats for me, but that sounded like it would be taking away from the authenticity of the experience. The offer of sending someone to the hotel to dress me, also sounded a little too indulgent. Imagine braving the Delhi traffic for a 20-second duty.

Well, getting into the sari in my hotel room was a rather more complicated process than I thought. The person, who housekeeping sent up after my frantic call, was as flummoxed by the slippery, heavily-embroidered material, in spite of being dressed in a sari herself. Hers, part of the uniform, was a much simpler, lighter affair but she confessed that she arrived at work an hour earlier to dress. Half an hour, some compromise and many safety pins later, I reasonably resembled the real thing.  I decided to leave my camera behind at the hotel, unsure of how I would manage taking photographs while trying to negotiate my way around without stepping onto my sari and coming undone.

My daughter, who was dressed in a sort of Indo-Western fashion, didn't have the same navigation concerns and could wield her camera more easily. Our first function was the Sangeet, attended by about 2 000 guests. I alternated between gawking at all the beautiful people around me and at the decorations. Flowers adorned every surface, competing for attention with colourful chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. There was enough lights, music and dancers with bare midriffs for a Bollywood movie set. It took us at least an hour to distinguish the bride and groom amongst all the other leading stars gathered around.

In spite of all the glitz and glamour, the evening was relaxed and friendly and we made many new friends who had also been wandering around gawking, to keep us company over the following few days of celebration. At the end of the evening, heaving a sigh of relief that I had not unravelled, I leaned over sideways and flopped into the back of the car...not quite as Grace Kelly would have done it. 

Hamba Kahle, Madiba

Kruger Park July 2013

We sat quietly, each one with their own thoughts, watching the sun sink down into the land which stretched before us. The silence of the bush seemed appropriately reverent. Far from the city lights and noise, we said goodbye and thank you to Madiba.

It was the first week in July and Madiba had been very ill. Everyone thought that his death was imminent. We were in the Kruger for three days and were out of cell phone range. We asked our game ranger to please inform us if he heard any news. We had just stopped at this spot when he told us that he had a radio message that Nelson Mandela had died. This piece of land, which belonged to all of us, thanks to the sacrifice and forgiveness of Nelson Mandela and others who had strived for freedom alongside him, seemed the best place to say farewell. 

When we returned to camp, it was a very apologetic ranger who confessed that there had been confused messages heard on the radio. In light of the seriousness of his condition, though, we all felt at peace with the time we had spent saying goodbye. In the months that followed, when there were rumours about his condition, news of fighting over his legacy and speculations over whether he was still alive, I felt fortunate to have had that opportunity to meditate on what he had meant to us. 

Last night I was sad to hear the news of his death, but this afternoon when I stood on the Jammie steps at UCT, the sadness was mixed with pride and a deep gratitude that I was able to stand on those steps as a free South African. Hamba Kahle, Madiba. Thank you for your sacrifice, your ability to forgive, your inspiration and the wisdom with which you guided us to democracy. May we never forget. 

Wedding Season

It's wedding season in India - not too hot, not too cold, just right.  We are having the full experience, starting with shopping for the right clothes to wear to a wedding. This is a rather more complicated process than popping into a boutique and buying what catches your eye. 

Already overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of Delhi I might have turned tail and run off when presented by four floors of shopping at Frontier Raas. Luckily, we had the able services of Sumeet, who knew exactly what we needed."Green is such a Mehndi colour." and "Black will be good for an evening wedding."  I was happy to be guided. 

Once we were settled in with tea and biscuits, the viewing began. Before long there was a pile of possibilities in front of us. How is it possible that there are so many choices and combinations? Not only was I distracted by what was in front of me, but people behind me and next to me seemed to be viewing the most sought after fabrics too. 

    

                                                 

All around us people were faced with a similar dilemma. Perhaps draping the sari would help? Quick as a flash an assistant had me standing on a little raised platform in front of the mirror, with a cord tied around my waist, while he deftly folded pleats and started winding fabric around my body. I stared at the reflection of a graceful, slimmer me. I should wear saris all the time! For those men who were buying saris, for their daughters or wives, I presumed, the assistants were only too willing to drape themselves. 

                                                          

Three hours later, having been offered Starbucks (we have one just down in the road!) and something to eat, we emerged happy with our purchases. Some bargaining had to be entered into in order to have our blouses and skirts sewn. "Tomorrow is not possible. How about two days time and delivered to your hotel!" And if we were not sure about how to drape the sari, someone could be sent to the hotel to help.

Oh, maybe  I should have gone with the fuschia and orange instead...

Wise Women (and Dr Spock)

I have had quite a woman's week. It started and ended with two of Cathy Eden’s Midlife Matters workshops, exploring the concerns, challenges and strategies of being an aging woman in our society. We all threw up our arms in protest at the idea that we could possibly be “wise women”. Perhaps we have images of old crones bent over bubbling pots and can't quite face that yet. 

On Monday evening I had the almost surreal experience of attending the first in a series of antenatal classes with a friend who has asked me to be her birth partner. There I sat in a circle with 12 sets of prospective parents – all first time and about half my age. One of the exercises that they had to do was to list all their birthing and parenting concerns.

Well, the session was indicative of one of the challenges that we face in this 21^st century – too much information and too little knowledge. People had lists that filled A4 pages - I couldn't believe how worried they were about everything - postnatal depression, choosing between natural birth and a Caesar, breastfeeding, routine, and balancing work and parenting in general. All valid I suppose, but I wanted to shout, “All your baby needs is you!” The internet has become their enemy because they suddenly are faced with the worst-case scenarios of every aspect of what is essentially one of the most natural stages of life.

I had to sit on my hands to keep myself from jumping up and responding to each one. It wasn't appropriate for me since I was there in a different role and didn't want to step onto the toes of the facilitator. But I realized that I could have dealt with each of those concerns through the experience that I have as mother, occupational therapist, yoga teacher and traveler. It was especially hard to keep quiet when one of the future dads said spontaneous weekends and travel were soon to be thing of the past. I wanted to wave my hands in the air and say, “Look at me, we've travelled the world with our children!” I’ll have to tell him that during the tea break next time.

It was an unexpected reminder of how much I've learned; without being aware of it, life has made us wiser and we still have a role to play in a society challenged by the technology revolution, climate change disasters, wars and conflict, and all the anxiety that this brings to giving birth and raising children. As Dr Benjamin Spock said way back in the 1940s, "You know more than you think you do." (The Common Sense Book of Baby and Childcare)

Yesterday I attended a talk with another wise woman Dr Azila Reisinberger, who officiated at the Mezcla of a Wedding I attended little while ago. She is Head of the Hebrew Department at UCT, a champion of women’s rights and gender equality, acting rabbi and member of MENSA. She spoke about women in the bible, which was fascinating and entertaining and appealed to the Christian, Muslim and Jewish woman in the audience. Her real gift is her ability to highlight the traditions and beliefs which are common to different people and cultures and bring them together in a celebration of humanity. Wise Women of the World, Unite!