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'

My South Africa

A friend reminded me about this piece by Professor Jonathan Jansen in response to my last blog.  

Professor Jonathan Jansen

My South Africa is the working-class man who called from the airport to return my wallet without a cent missing. It is the white woman who put all three of her domestic worker's children through the same school that her own child attended. It is the politician in one of our rural provinces, Mpumalanga, who returned his salary to the government as a statement that standing with the poor had to be more than just a few words. It is the teacher who worked after school hours every day during the public sector strike to ensure her children did not miss out on learning. 

My South Africa is the first-year university student in Bloemfontein who took all the gifts she received for her birthday and donated them - with the permission of the givers - to a home for children in an Aids village. It is the people hurt by racist acts who find it in their hearts to publicly forgive the perpetrators. It is the group of farmers in Paarl who started a top school for the children of farm workers to ensure they got the best education possible while their parents toiled in the vineyards. It is the farmer's wife in Viljoenskroon who created an education and training centre for the wives of farm labourers so that they could gain the advanced skills required to operate accredited early-learning centers for their own and other children. 

My South Africa is that little white boy at a decent school in the Eastern Cape who decided to teach the black boys in the community to play cricket, and to fit them all out with the togs required to play the gentleman's game. It is the two black street children in Durban, caught on camera, who put their spare change in the condensed milk tin of a white beggar. It is the Johannesburg pastor who opened up his church as a place of shelter for illegal immigrants. It is the Afrikaner woman from Boksburg who nailed the white guy who shot and killed one of South Africa's greatest freedom fighters outside his home. 

My South Africa is the man who went to prison for 27 years and came out embracing his captors, thereby releasing them from their impending misery. It is the activist priest who dived into a crowd of angry people to rescue a woman from a sure necklacing. It is the former police chief who fell to his knees to wash the feet of Mamelodi women whose sons disappeared on his watch; it is the women who forgave him in his act of contrition. It is the Cape Town university psychologist who interviewed the 'Prime Evil' in Pretoria Centre and came away with emotional attachment, even empathy, for the human being who did such terrible things under apartheid. 

My South Africa is the quiet, dignified, determined township mother from Langa who straightened her back during the years of oppression and decided that her struggle was to raise decent children, insist that they learn, and ensure that they not succumb to bitterness or defeat in the face of overwhelming odds. It is the two young girls who walked 20kms to school everyday, even through their matric years, and passed well enough to be accepted into university studies. It is the student who takes on three jobs, during the evenings and on weekends, to find ways of paying for his university studies. 

My South Africa is the teenager in a wheelchair who works in townships serving the poor. It is the pastor of a Kenilworth church whose parishioners were slaughtered, who visits the killers and asks them for forgiveness because he was a beneficiary of apartheid. It is the politician who resigns on conscientious grounds, giving up status and salary because of an objection in principle to a social policy of her political party. It is the young lawman who decides to dedicate his life to representing those who cannot afford to pay for legal services. 

My South Africa is not the angry, corrupt, violent country those deeds fill the front pages of newspapers and the lead-in items on the seven-o'-clock news. It is the South Africa often unseen, yet powered by the remarkable lives of ordinary people. It is the citizens who keep the country together through millions of acts of daily kindness. 

I copied the article and photograph from the South Africa The Good News website.

Professor Jonathan Jansen is the Rector and Vice-Chancellor of the University of the Free State.

Lost Generation?

I came across this brilliant poem a little while ago. It was written by Jonathan Reed for a video competition where entrants had to describe their vision for their future. At first reading it is rather depressing:

Lost Generation by Jonathan Reed

I am part of a lost generation

and I refuse to believe that

I can change the world

I realize this may be a shock but

“Happiness comes from within.”

is a lie, and

“Money will make me happy.”

So in 30 years I will tell my children

they are not the most important thing in my life

My employer will know that

I have my priorities straight because

work

is more important than

family

I tell you this

Once upon a time

Families stayed together

but this will not be true in my era

This is a quick fix society

Experts tell me

30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce

I do not concede that

I will live in a country of my own making

In the future

Environmental destruction will be the norm

No longer can it be said that

My peers and I care about this earth

It will be evident that

My generation is apathetic and lethargic

It is foolish to presume that

There is hope.

Now read it from the bottom up...and, voila!...a completely different perspective. Sometimes we just need to step out of the box and look at the situation from another angle. Tomorrow I am going to be running a workshop for a community youth project and I am going to read it to them. More of that later...

Building Gardens of Hope

I have just been reading an edited copy of the 8th Nelson Mandela lecture given by Ariel Dorfman in Johannesburg yesterday. Unfortunately I missed it on the radio - I managed to hear his last few sentences before his voice broke and the crowd roared. He spoke about the gardens of hope that people like Nelson Mandela and others living in conflict, created. Nelson Mandela's garden that he created while in prison, brought him much hope, joy and dignity. He urged us to remember that gardens grow like justice  and reconciliation should, and that we need to sing to the earth to forgive us and continue to give us hope.

I have been thinking that the people around us who do good, who help others, who share what they have, who do what they can to in some small way make the world a better place, are all growing gardens. Planting seeds, nurturing and willing them to yield beautiful products.

From the  NGO's down to the little Gogo who takes children into her care so that their parents can earn a living, the projects that aim to get children off the street, the people who make soup to feed the homeless or the musician who gives his time to build a jazz band with borrowed instruments in one of the poverty-stricken townships, we are all building and growing. We need to know what people are doing. We need to peek over the walls and admire and copy what is being done. My "favourite" function that I attend every year, is the Inyathelo Awards for philanthropy, that identifies and celebrates the people who are building the spirit of ubuntu in our communities.

We have a friend, Bobby Sager, who travels the world with his family, from Rwanda to Bhutan, Afghanistan to South Africa, India to Palestine, doing good. We are fortunate to see them regularly and hear of their adventures. In between visits, he keeps us updated with mostly black and white pictures that he has taken of the places they have visited. Many of the pictures are of children and my favourite picture is of 2 young girls standing with their arms around each other, having a good laugh.

The picture was taken in Afghanistan in the middle of conflict and I have framed it and put it on my desk. It reminds me that children, no matter that the world may be falling down around them, will always manage to find joy. This is why I am so passionate about being involved with the World Children's Prize. The fact that the organisation is powered by children who at the same time, are learning about democracy and human rights, gives me immense hope for a better future society.

Everyday we are bombarded with negative images and stories, we absorb them and they become part of the very fibre of our being. We start to believe everything that we read and hear. Whenever we have been out of the country for a while, I find that the news feels like a physical onslaught on our return. It is as if I build up some kind of immunity to all the negativity when I am away. It hits you in the face when you come back.

We need to build a culture of hope. We need to start changing the energy around us. We need to start building hope and excitement about the future. We each need to find a garden to work in - one person can make a difference. As Bobby says, "Hope isn't just nice; it's a game-changer."