The Human Race

Name. Age. Race. Why am I  being asked to fill this in? "We invite you to..." or "we know it is a sensitive issue but..." or "we need this for transformation purposes..." - these are some of the excuses I am being given. I say excuses because I do not view them as valid reasons for having to fill in race classification. Why after 16 years of democracy are we still so hung up on race classification? Is this not what we fought against for so many years - for non-racialism, to not be classified and treated in a certain way, based on that classification? I can understand that we need some way of addressing the enormous disadvantage of our apartheid legacy, but there has to be a more acceptable way of doing this.

Apparently we have Count Arthur Gobineau, a French diplomat in the 19th century, to thank for all this racial demography. He started writing about the 3 races (yellow, black and white) and laid the foundation for all the Hitlers who came after him. Of course, science has now proved that there is no such thing as different race groups, that differences in skin colour are an adaptation to climate and environment, but that will probably take another century to filter out. 

Racism is a learned trait and the sooner we can change the environment that we live in, the sooner we can change peoples attitudes. As long as we are still being asked to classify ourselves along racial lines, we are entrenching those ideas and have little hope of finding that holy grail, a non-racist society.

This issue also needs tackling at  a university admissions level where students have to earn points for admission. Different points are assigned depending on the student's "race". Surely if the university receives an application they can take into account the social circumstances, schooling and other background details of the student and make decisions on that criteria? The student from the poor township who attended the less than prestigious school, who has succeeded beyond all expectations, deserves a place at university without having to classify him or herself as "black". What about the "black" student who had the fortune of going to a top government or even private school - do they deserve to get a place at university more than  their fellow "white", "indian" or "coloured" students?

I remember getting my new identity book post-1994 - the last 3 digits had to be changed because they previously classified us as being of a certain race. My husband and I come from different "population groups". We rejoice that our children do not have to suffer the indignity of apartheid. Yet we are often asked to fill in forms that classify them. Now do we have to decide on what race they should be? Shall I say that they are "coloured" since they must be mixed to have parents from different population groups? Or is my husband's previous classification more dominant than mine, or vice versa?

My kids will tell you that they are South African and that is all the classification they need. Or their classification is H for Human Race - and that is how it should be. The sooner we start changing the seemingly small things, the less likely they will continue to be firmly entrenched.

Happy Women's Day

This morning I attended a Women's Day brunch to raise funds for St Luke's Hospice. The keynote speaker delivered an interesting talk from a very different angle - Does the public attention of celebrities with cancer help with cancer awareness? She mentioned many actors, First Wives, singers and captains of industry, who have been diagnosed in recent years with different types of cancer. She could not really answer the question but left us with the message that the real heroes are the ordinary people - the people who you and I know - who battle the disease.

Both my maternal grandparents died of cancer, my grandmother of lung cancer and my grandfather of prostrate cancer which had spread to the bowel. My grandmother spent her last days at the hospice and both my parents have been volunteers there. In recent years several of my friends have been affected directly or indirectly by the disease, mostly with breast cancer. I think that the camaraderie of our circle of friends has helped enormously -  helping with kids, cooking a meal, company during chemotherapy sessions, just being there for a cup of tea and a chat, laughing about choosing a wig or helping to find different ways to tie a scarf.

But at the end of the day, I think that it has come down to them walking that journey by themselves, drawing on inner strength and faith. I can well understand the war terms used to talk about the disease - doing battle, surviving, attacking, long struggles. They have all survived, rising up to the challenge and emerging as stronger women. On this Women's Day, I would like to salute each and everyone of them, those who are in my circle and beyond.

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."

So, do you work?

"So, do you work?" I have been thinking about this question over the last few days, since I attended a function with my husband. I usually brace myself for that question and wonder how I could answer it without appearing defensive. What exactly does work mean? If you do not have a paying job does that mean you do not work? Does that mean you are "living a life of luxury"? If you answer "No" does that mean the end of the conversation as you must be a "housewife" and therefore can have no meaningful contribution to the conversation or to society?

Answering no, does usually close off a conversation - doing voluntary work doesn't seem to count (since it does not involve money or climbing the corporate ladder) and seems to be regarded as not needing a commitment and therefore not important. Running a home and being a mother, supporting your husband's career, seems to be viewed with negativity. I am not sure if this is a SA viewpoint or a general global viewpoint. If you asked me if I was a feminist I would say yes - I believe in women's rights, in equality for women socially and culturally. But I think that people lose sight of the fact that the Feminist movement was about having the choice - the choice to stay at home with your kids or not, the choice to be single or married, the choice to build a career or not...

As a woman with a degree from a prestigious university and who worked in her career for a number of years, I feel fortunate to have been in the situation where I could choose to be a mother and "retire" from my previous career. And being a mother has certainly encompassed all the skills I learned at university and while working. What I did not know, I learned from workshops, books and from peers. On the job training is what is about; talk about immersion therapy! Certainly the hours have paid off and I have been well-rewarded along the way.

A friend joked that I could be the CEO of a "business" involving my role as mother. As they have grown older and spend more time at school and with other extra-mural activities, it seems that I have taken on the role of Personal Assistant. In many ways they need me less but even when they are not with me, I am planning and organising. I have to set time aside to do "admin" - plan schedules, make appointments, follow-up school-related issues. Recently, I have felt that I can start to reclaim my independence and start doing the things that I have put on hold.

But, yes, I have been working. Just not getting paid in hard currency.

Thank you, Madiba, and Happy Birthday

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, 

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, 

Or being hated don't give way to hating, 

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, 

Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch, 

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, 

If all men count with you, but none too much: 

If you can fill the unforgiving minute 

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, 

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, 

And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son.

Yesterday Madiba turned 92 - every extra day that we have him seems like a blessing, since he has lived such a long and difficult life. He is the first person that I think about when I read Rudyard Kipling's poem. It seems like there are very few people who measure up to this standard and Madiba certainly is a living example of many of the sentiments expressed in the poem.

Qunu in the Eastern Cape, Madiba's birthplace

I have been fortunate to meet Madiba on more than one occasion and a few things stand out. One is his ability to make you feel like you are the most important person in the world. We have been at a conference where Madiba has kept international delegates waiting because the kitchen staff have been lined up for ages to catch a glimpse of him and he has not wanted to disappoint them.

Another is his love for children. When he accepted the tribute that the World's Children's Prize had bestowed on him, his message to the children was that he would support them whether he was "alive or in the grave" and I have no doubt that that will indeed be so.

But one of his greatest gifts to us is his ability to forgive. His ability to sit down to tea or share podiums and stages with his former oppressors and jailers, is something that I, as an ordinary human being, find hard to conceive of. 

Since time immemorial, humans have searched for heroes. But the power of the hero is not as an idol that is unreachable or untouchable but as an inspiration to us to be the best that we can be, to raise us up. I hope that Madiba's spirit will be around to guide us for a long time yet. 

Google it!

My son has been doing some research for an oral. The brief is to prepare an oral about someone who has made a significant change to the course of history in a particular field. He has chosen Larry Page and Sergei Brin, the founders of Google. I was not quite sure that I would have used such strong language regarding their achievements, but as he has progressed with his oral, I have had a rethink.

Google has revolutionised the way ordinary people have access to knowledge. If you are able to read and write and have access to a computer, there is an open door to learning about almost any subject in the world.

What has impressed my son (apart from the billions of dollars that these two young men have made) is that they seem to have their feet firmly on the ground. They each drive the environmentally -friendly Toyota Prius (as a budding greenie this is a big plus in his eyes) and they have created a very "cool" work environment for their staff. Special mention to be given by him about the weekly roller-hockey games in the car park!

As someone born in the "old days", as my kids call it, I have had to make a conscious effort to become technologically-competent. It amazes me how different their response to research is to mine. My first instinct is to look it up in a book or ask someone. They know everything (and they really do know more than us) at a touch of a button. A while back, I wanted the lyrics to a particular song and my daughter not only down-loaded the song but presented me with a print-out of the lyrics.

"In my day", I remember sitting with a tape recorder hitting pause, rewind and play in an effort to scribble down the lyrics of a song! I certainly have learned much from them - look at me now - email, Google, Face Book, Blogging ... the web is my oyster! Although I still have to shout for help and suffer the rolling eyes every now and then. It feels good to know that with all the privilege they enjoy, they are still able to look for the quallities that make people like the Google-geniuses, real heroes.

War minus the shooting

George Orwell said that "Serious sport is war minus the shooting." I couldn't help thinking that, in some instances, the soccer World Cup was like a war of the world - there were the different countries competing against each other, the rallying of supporters, the "war-paint", the battle-cries and the "uniforms".

The soccer World Cup mobilises the largest number of people in the world. Apart from the more than 3 million who packed into the fan parks and stadiums, there was about a billion more watching on television or listening to the commentary on radio. Certainly, it celebrates national identity - never before have so many people in this country waved the flag in a celebration of national pride.

During apartheid even the sport was divided and soccer, which was seen as largely a Black person's game, suffered from the isolation and lost opportunities to play on an international level. Now we have experienced first-hand how unifying and mobilising the game can be. Unifying and mobilising across the artificial borders of class, race, religion, age and sex.

Imagine if this gathering together from all corners of the world, could satisfy the need for war. We would have referees to ensure fair play. The spectators would be there to bear witness to what had been done in their name. Everyone would celebrate the victors and leave satisfied that they had done their best, until next time. I can dream, can't I?