We Say Enough!

Yesterday thousands of UCT students and staff marched in protest against the scourge of violence that has become part of our society. Marching does not seem like nearly enough to be doing but after witnessing the recent spate of violent crimes, I felt that I had to do something.

I was struck by a recent article in the newspaper which pointed out that a few years ago we were all shocked by the violent abuse and death of a young girl, Valencia Farmer, and yet here we are again in the same situation.

Carrying placards, mostly dressed in white, we marched and chanted, up from the middle campus to congregate on the Jameson steps on the main campus. When we were addressed by the vice-chancellor, amongst others, I couldn’t help thinking back to the struggle days. And, indeed, he reminded us that ordinary people had brought apartheid to an end and that it was time that we stood up again to bring about change.

We need to demand our rights, to make ourselves heard, to voice what it is we want the government that we elected to do. It is important to use whatever platforms that are available to us to get this message across and to keep up the momentum of what others are doing.

WE SAY ENOUGH. STOP THE VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN AND CHILDREN.

You may also like:http://saaray-livinginsa.blogspot.com/2013/01/stop-abuse.html

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. 

Thought for the Day

Every time I open the newspapers my heart wants to break for the people in Somalia. I read that 6 of the 8 regions in Somalia have been struck by famine, affecting three-quarter of a million people. There are haunting images of malnourished babies and toddlers, queues of people hoping for food and water, against a background of an unfriendly landscape. People are dying every day and it seems that aid cannot be delivered fast enough to keep pace with the crisis.

There are also disturbing pictures of war and struggle while people fight for their freedom in other parts of Africa. The pictures don’t show the most vulnerable women and children who are being displaced, who have had their whole lives turned upside down. In Greg Mortenson’s book, Three Cups of Tea he says that “in times of war, you often hear leaders say ... ‘God is on our side’. But that isn’t true. In war God is on the side of refugees, widows and orphans.” I hope that he is right.

It is overwhelming to watch the suffering of people and I realise that I cannot help everyone. I do believe that if we do our best to help the people around us, in any small way, we contribute to the greater good of all humanity. Often we don’t do anything because we think that the need is so great that we cannot make a difference, but in the words of Rabindrath Tagore:

“Not hammer strokes but dance of the water sings the pebbles into perfection.” 

The Gift of Friendship

I value the women in my life. The gift of having someone who listens when you open up, supports and cheers you on when life's disappointments get you down, and who celebrates the joy of being alive with you, is one that should not be taken for granted.

I am fortunate to have a few women in my life who I can call friends.  There is the friend who I know will cajole me into laughing my way out of difficulty. There's the friend who will take charge, like a mother hen and organise when necessary. There are friends I can share the responsibilities of motherhood with, and the friends I can show my wild, outrageous Aquarian side to. There are those who inspire me and those who keep me young.

Different friends suit different times in my life. They come in different sizes, shapes and with different temperaments. Sometimes I find myself thinking about the space I am in and the friend I need, like one would choose a track of music to listen to or a book to read. My friends are like the family I have chosen. We share a bond that is born out of shared joy, sorrow and whatever it takes to deal with the blows that life sometimes throw at us. Long ago I learned that it was necessary to gather around me the people who build me up, support and nurture me, not people who tear me down. 

Whenever I have had the privilege of sitting down in a circle with some of the women I know, it amazes me how each one brings their own flavour to the gathering. It is exactly because we are so different that we can support each other - the mothers, grandmothers, career women, nurturers, cooks, givers and doers - sharing wisdom and experience. We emerge with our batteries recharged, ready to create the the small corners of peace in our home and our community.

Our complicated relationship with .... Food

Towards the end of last year I was completely fed up with my body - it seemed hell-bent on doing its own thing, in spite of me eating healthily, doing regular yoga, walking (OK, maybe not so regularly). So I did what I usually do - I bought a book. 

Women, Food and God jumped out at me off the shelf. The blurb at the back promised to "reveal how our relationship with food is the doorway to freedom and what we want most: the demystification of weight loss and the luminous presence that so many of us call 'God'" - quite a claim, but I was interested to see what she had to say especially since I have this ongoing quest to define spirituality and religion. I did not encounter any new revelations and felt that the book was directed at people with more complicated relationships with food than I have. But it did remind me of another book which I had read cover-to-cover about two years ago, French Women Don't Get Fat.

I had taken that book on holiday to Mauritius and devoured it while lounging in the sunshine at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Periodically, I read out the bits which we were going to implement at home,  to my husband. We enthusiastically, in the idyllic environment of having someone cook for us every hour, embraced the principles. To our credit, I must say that we carried on eating like French women for a good while back home before the rat race intruded more forcefully.

Anyway, I hauled it out to read again and everything makes as much sense now (away from the sun and the ocean) as it did then. This book is written by a French woman who spent an exchange year in the US as a teenager and returned home "looking like a sack of potatoes", to quote her shocked father when he picked her up at the airport on her return. It describes the lifestyle of the French and eating for pleasure, yet staying healthy. It makes good sense.

I am also coming to the end of another book which deals with similar issues (interesting how books become magnets for other books) - When Hungry, Eat. I enjoyed the insight into the process of what makes you leave the country of your birth and all that is familiar, to settle in a new country. I also enjoyed her writing about the time before and immediately after democracy. As far as eating goes, I did not feel that I gained any major new insights. 

All three books in different ways, highlight how our relationship with food is tied up with beliefs, culture, comfort, pleasure and control. How many of us remember not being allowed to leave the table until our plates were empty? At the end of the day, like so much else in life, it comes down to finding the balance. It is a sobering thought that humans are the only animals that eat when they are not hungry. 

• Women Food and God by Geneen Roth
• French Women Don't Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano
• When Hungry, Eat by Joanne Fedler