The Basement Project

The last few weeks have been very busy hence the lack of a new blog post but good news is that I got my application in to Home Affairs so hopefully that will be approved. It does mean one less stress on my mind. The Kuyga junior youth group is going really well. We had 48 kids come to the last session and we got all our Afrikaans kids back so it is a mixed group again. We split the group up by age so the 10+11 years olds together, the 12+13 year olds together and the 14+ group is together. We still have two 8 year olds that we don’t know what to do with, they just sit and observe at the moment. The kids have called themselves the Rockstars and we even have our own song. So that’s my very brief update on things just to keep everyone informed what follows is my latest blog post...

Those that know me know I love the arts. I visit galleries constantly, I studied a degree in design, I did a life drawing class with Archibald prize winner David Fairban, my lecturers have exhibitions that tour internationally and one of my design works has even been published in a book. Although it doesn’t always come naturally to me I love the arts. Photography is my art style of choice, I prefer black and white film photography as it is all about the process. You control each moment from taking the picture to developing and it’s more hands on which is what I prefer. So in Sydney I know where all the art galleries are and not just the big name ones, all the smaller, less mainstream galleries as well. Even if Sydney isn’t considered the cultural capital of Australia it still has a lot of culture, it doesn’t matter what part of it you’re in you can always find something.

Naturally one of the first things I did when I came to Port Elizabeth was look for art galleries and art classes. Now keep in mind that the internet here isn’t what it is in Australia, you can’t just google search something and find all the information you need. I really struggled to find art galleries here. I figured that if I could just find one then that could lead me to any others. Luckily someone came into my life who unlocked the door of the arts in Port Elizabeth. Sicelo is a music student at NMMU (the university here) and he came along to one of our Baha’i Society meetings to help us with the musical event we are planning. We got talking and he invited me to what he called an open mic night at some cafe. I was like ‘this sounds cool, I want to go’ so Sicelo said he would pick me up and we could go together. OMG he completely didn’t do justice to this event, it was insane. The event is called the Basement Project and it happens at Coffee Cafe every second Thursday. It’s not really a cafe but more of a large room with some couches at the back. We got there and immediately I could tell that Sicelo is a regular because he had to say hello to like everyone there. We took a seat and the program got underway. It was open mic in the sense that anyone who wanted could come up and share whatever it was they wanted to share be it music, poetry, dance, art whatever. It wasn’t open mic in the sense that there was no microphone. The place packed out, people were sitting on the floor and lining the walls and there was no lack of talent either. I mean I was blown away by some of the stuff people were doing especially the poetry. Honestly there were people who performed who were so skilled with the written word that they could have started a rebellion if they wanted to. Absolutely amazing.

One thing I did notice was the political and racial tension in people’s expressions. Art is a form of true expression and it is a form of emotional release so when every single performer stood up and spoke about the injustice white man had served them, the corruption of this government, the power that the black people needed to reclaim you can see that this is what is bearing down on these people. At one point the program stopped and the floor was opened for a discussion on Heritage Day which was on the next day. Heritage Day or Braai Day is a public holiday dedicated to the remembrance and honour of South Africa’s heritage. The opening remarks went something like this “Heritage day is just a creation by the white man to make us think that they care about our past. Everyday should be heritage day, every day we should be honouring our past and bringing back our culture not the white man’s culture which has been forced on us.”
It was then that I realised I was the only ‘non-black’ person in the room.. So of course I put my hand up drew attention to myself. I asked if the people have accepted a new heritage since the end of Apartheid and Mandela’s election or is there still conflict and tension amongst the people? This discussion happened very early in the program, clearly my question was answered with the onslaught of performers that would follow but the answer I got was that no the only heritage that counts is the one that they had before white man. This country has a long way to go. There were some counter arguments, one guy said that the people had to create a new identity because the white people aren’t just going to disappear this is their home now too and there won’t be any progress if we keep the mentality that we want things to go back to the way they were before they came. He also put forward a very sensible question which was “Culture changes, would you really walk around town topless and just wearing a piece of cloth to cover your parts, is that really what you want back?”

So after the discussion the performances continued, it was both a wonderful and very dangerous atmosphere. Honestly by the end of that session if I didn’t have such a strong mind I could have easily started resenting white people as much as they did. These artists have such a strong and powerful way with words, the speak with emotion, what they say arouses the audience, it’s so easy to fall into what they are saying. One Rastafarian guy even stood up and said “White people in the room you better suck on your sour lemon because the black people are in charge now” I waited, knowing that I was the only person in the room that could be considered white, hoping he wouldn’t give me direct eye contact as if that statement was made just for me. Luckily he didn’t and I laughed along with everyone else. I managed to talk to a few people about their work and got some details. I hope to put up some transcripts of some of the poetry as it really is amazing stuff and if there’s one way you can see the pain of a nation you see it through its art.

I left the session inspired and uplifted. Not to hate white people just in case you were concerned. I mean I call myself a writer but the only poetry I’ve ever written has been for laughs, I write these odes when I got bored.. maybe I should share one with you one day. I was inspired to write proper poetry and when I say poetry I don’t mean that how now brown cow kind of stuff I mean like the stuff that later becomes rap music but before it gets all commercialised and turns into some idiot telling the world how many girls he gets and how much weed he smokes. I wanted to write a piece about South Africa and the racial tension but I think I’ll wait till I have a few more friends because I’m afraid I won’t come out unhurt if I do it now. For now I’ll just write about myself which is the only thing I have any authority on. I’ll put up a test piece when it’s done and then I’ll let you know how it goes once I’ve performed it.

So I finally have my artistic energy source and from it I know I’ll find so many others. I will put up any work that I get off other artists because it really deserves to be shared.

Ps this is one of my shortest blog posts in a while.. you can thank my killer headache for that

Cry, the Beloved Country

There was a time whilst here that I was resentful towards South Africa, when I couldn’t understand how an entire nation of people could hold so much pride for a country that offered them so little. I couldn’t fathom the standards of a government that could allow so many people to live in homes that would not be fit for animals in most other countries of the world. It didn’t make sense that the people didn’t fight for better lives for themselves.

Everywhere around me I could see injustice, I could see inequality, I could see discrimination. People were treated differently because of who they were. I could sense the tension still resinating amongst a generation of people who saw Apartheid and were punished for the darkness of their skin.

Instead of democracy the pendulum has swung to another extreme. Where black men were previously unable to progress in the fields of government it is now the white man that struggles to get ahead. Pushed to the bottom of the ladder as society overcompensates for the transgresses of the past.

The laws of segregation have been abolished and South Africa has accepted to unite but segregation does not need to be enforced by law if the people are willing to segregate themselves. White with white, coloured with coloured, black with black. Observing the people this is what you see, this is what they choose. Although perhaps unconsciously these new generations follow the same patterns of the past and only when prompted to answer why do you see that segregation is all they know.

When a society cannot function as one, when it replaces one type of injustice with another, when the people are unable to stand on their own two feet and create better for themselves then progress in unattainable.

The world was shown an image of South Africa during the World Cup, this image was of a nation labelled as third world hosting a first world event. A picture of a clean and friendly South Africa where crime was not to be feared, where people could enjoy the city lights without anxiety. The world was shown a nation that could work together and a people that could unite in support of their country regardless of their background. We witnessed a government that was able to fund a billion dollar event, able to distribute this money into projects that would benefit the community, focussing on creating infrastructure whose use would surpass this single event. A government that could prove that South Africa was a capable and proficient country. This was the image, an image that most South Africans feign to remember.

We saw what South Africa could be, a teaser of what we could have but we don’t. We were shown that crime could be controlled but it isn’t controlled now. We had a taste of what efficient government departments were capable of but they aren’t efficient anymore. We saw how funding for roads and transport transformed parts of the city but that funding is now gone.

When you see what South Africa could be, when you see what South Africa was then and when you see where South Africa is now you feel frustrated, you feel disappointed, annoyed, upset, angry. We have seen what South Africa could be, we saw this only months ago and we wonder why can’t we have that?

It was so hard for me to try and understand this country. This country should be better but it’s not, it should be safer but it isn’t, it should be cleaner, it should provide more to its schools, it should offer better health care to its peoples, it should take better care of its streets, it should, it should, it should but it doesn’t and I couldn’t understand why.

In my dismay my mum offered me an opportunity for insight; “Cry, the Beloved Country” a novel by Alan Paton. This book resolved my resentment, this book calmed my anger, took away my disillusionment. For that reason I want to share some of it with you, these are the parts that for me answer all of my ‘whys?’ and although it doesn’t offer any resolution for my disappointment in this country it does offer understanding and with understanding comes patience and patience is exactly what I need. So here I offer you the opportunity for insight into a country whose problems stem so deep that it will take such a great effort to resolve them.

*

“What we did when we came to South Africa was permissible. It was permissible to develop our great resources with the aid of what labour we could find. It was permissible to use unskilled men for unskilled work. But it is not permissible to keep men unskilled for the sake of unskilled work.

It was permissible when we discovered gold to bring labour to the mines. It was permissible to build compounds and to keep women and children away from the towns. It was permissible as an experiment, in the light of what we knew. But in the light of what we know now, with certain exceptions, it is no longer permissible. It is not permissible for us to go on destroying family life when we know that we are destroying it. It is permissible to develop any resources if the labour is forthcoming. But it is not permissible to develop any resources if they can be developed only at the cost of the labour. It is not permissible to mine any gold, or manufacture any product, or cultivate any land, if such mining and manufacture and cultivation depend for their success on a policy of keeping labour poor. It is not permissible to add to one’s possessions if these things can only be done at the cost of other men. Such development has only one true name, and that is exploitation. It might have been permissible in the early days of our country, before we became aware of its cost, in the disintegration of native community life, in the deterioration of native family life, in poverty, slums and crime. But now that the cost is known, it is no longer permissible.

It was permissible to leave native education to those who wanted to develop it. It was permissible to doubt its benefits. But it is no longer permissible in the light of what we know. Partly because it made possible industrial development, and partly because it happened in spite of us, there is now a large urbanized native population. Now society has always, for reasons of self-interest if for no other, educated its children so that they grow up law-abiding, with socialized aims and purposes. There is no other way that it can be done. Yet we continue to leave the education of our native urban society to those few Europeans who feel strongly about it, and to deny opportunities and money for its expansion. That is not permissible. For reasons of self-interest alone, it is dangerous.
It was permissible to allow the destruction of a tribal system that impeded the growth
of the country. It was permissible to believe that its destruction was inevitable. But it is not permissible to watch its destruction, and to replace it by nothing, or by so little, that a whole people deteriorates, physically and morally.

The old tribal system was, for all its violence and savagery, for all its superstition and witchcraft, a moral system. Our natives today produce criminals and prostitutes and drunkards, not because it is their nature to do so, but because their simple system of order and tradition and convention has been destroyed. It was destroyed by the impact of our own civilization. Our civilization has therefore an inescapable duty to set up another system of order and tradition and convention. It is true that we hoped to preserve the tribal system by a policy of segregation. That was permissible. But we never did it thoroughly or honestly. We set aside one-tenth of the land for four-fifths of the people. Thus we made it inevitable, and some say we did it knowingly, that labour would come to the towns. We are caught in the toils of our own selfishness.

No one wishes to make the problem seem smaller than it is. No one wishes to make its solution seem easy. No one wishes to make light of the fears that beset us. But whether we be fearful or no, we shall never, because we are a Christian people, be able to avoid the moral issue.”

*

“The truth is that our Christian civilization is riddled through and through with dilemma. We believe in the brotherhood of man, but we do not want it in South Africa. We believe that God endows men with diverse gifts, and that human life depends for its fullness on their employment and enjoyment, but we are afraid to explore this belief too deeply. We believe in help for the underdog, but we want him to stay under. And we are therefore compelled, in order to preserve our belief that we are Christian, to ascribe to Almighty God, creator of Heaven and Earth, our own human intentions, and to say that because He created white and black, He gives the Divine Approval to any human action that is designed to keep black men from advancement. We go so far as to credit Almighty God with having created black men to hew wood and draw water for white men. We go so far as to assume that He blesses any action that is designed to prevent black men from the full employment of the gifts He gave them. Alongside of these very arguments we use others totally inconsistent, so that the accusation of repression may be refuted. We say we withhold education because the black child has not the intelligence to profit by it; we withhold opportunity to develop gifts because black people have no gifts; we justify our action by saying that it took us thousands of years to achieve our own advancement, and it would be foolish to suppose that it will take the black man any lesser time, and that therefore there is no need for hurry. We shift our ground again when a black man does achieve something remarkable, and feel deep pity for a man who is condemned to the loneliness of being remarkable, and decide that it is a Christian kindness not to let black men become remarkable. Thus even our God becomes a confused and inconsistent creature, giving gifts and denying them employment. Is it strange then that our civilization is riddled through and through with dilemma? The truth is that our civilization is not Christian; it is a tragic compound of great ideal and fearful practice, of high assurance and desperate anxiety, of loving charity and fearful clutching of possessions.”

*

“Have no doubt it is fear in the land. For what can men do when so many have grown lawless? Who can enjoy the lovely land, who can enjoy the seventy years, and the sun that pours down on the earth, when there is fear in the heart? Who can walk quietly in the shadow of the jacarandas, when their beauty is grown to danger? Who can lie peacefully abed, while the darkness holds some secret? What lovers can lie sweetly under the stars, when menace grows with the measure of their seclusion?”

“I say we shall always have native crime to fear until the native people of this country have worthy purposes to inspire them and worthy goals to work for. For it is only because they see neither purpose nor goal that they turn to drink and crime and prostitution. Which do we prefer, a law-abiding, industrious and purposeful native people, or a lawless, idle and purposeless people? The truth is that we do not know, for we fear them both. And so long as we vacillate, so long will we pay dearly for the dubious pleasure of not having to make up our minds. And the answer does not lie, except temporarily, in more police and more protection.”

*

“Some cry for the cutting up of South Africa without delay into separate areas, where white can live without black, and black without white, where black can farm their own land and mine their own minerals and administer their own laws. And others cry away with the compound system, that brings men to the towns without their wives and children, and breaks up the tribe and the house and the man, and they ask for the establishment of villages for the labourers in mines and industry.

And the churches cry too. The English-speaking churches cry for more education, and more opportunity, and for a removal of the restrictions on native labour and enterprise. And the Afrikaans-speaking churches want to see the native people given opportunity to develop along their own lines, and remind their own people that the decay of family religion, where the servants took part in family devotions, has contributed in part to the moral decay of the native people. But there is to be no equality in church or state.

Yes, there are a hundred, and a thousand voices crying. But what does one do, when one cries this thing, and one cries another? Who knows how we shall fashion a land of peace where black outnumbers white so greatly? Some say that the earth has bounty enough for all, and that more for one does not mean less for another, that the advance of one does not mean the decline of another. They say that poor-paid labour means a poor nation, and that better-paid labour means greater markets and greater scope for industry and manufacture. And others say that this is a danger, for better-paid labour will not only buy more but will also read more, think more, ask more, and will not be content to be forever voiceless and inferior.

Who knows how we shall fashion such a land? For we fear not only the loss of our possessions, but the loss of our superiority and the loss of our whiteness. Some say it is true that crime is bad, but would this not be worse? Is it not better to hold what we have, and to pay the price of it with fear? And others say, can such fear be endured? For is it not this fear that drives men to ponder these things at all?

We do not know, we do not know. We shall live from day to day, and put more locks on the doors, and get a fine fierce dog when the fine fierce bitch next door has pups, and hold on to our handbags more tenaciously; and the beauty of the trees by night, and the raptures of lovers under the stars, these things we shall forego. We shall forego the coming home drunken through the midnight streets, and the evening walk over the star-lit veld. We shall be careful, and knock this off our lives, and knock that off our lives, and hedge ourselves about with safety and precaution. And our lives will shrink, but they shall be the lives of superior beings; and we shall live with fear, but at least it will not be a fear of the unknown. And the conscience shall be thrust down; the light of life shall not be extinguished, but be put under a bushel, to be preserved for a generation that will live by it again, in some day not yet come; and how it will come, and when it will come, we shall not think about at all.

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

*

The last passage I share with you inspired me, gave me a little push in terms of my own service in South Africa. I have often wondered what brought me here. What brought me to this place that I couldn’t understand with all its problems, problems that don’t just linger in the air but effect every movement you make, every word you speak, every person you meet, every place you go. In everything that is South Africa there is Apartheid. It’s name may be gone, it’s laws and regulations and the power they took from one person and gave to another, these may no longer be but the memory of it is embedded into everything that is South Africa. This country needs service, it needs leaders, it needs change. I don’t know if I can give it these things that it needs, I don’t know if I am any help at all but I am here and I will keep trying..

“Therefore I shall devote myself, my time, my energy, my talents, to the service of South Africa. I shall no longer ask myself if this or that is expedient, but only if it is right. I shall do this, not because I am noble or unselfish, but because life slips away, and because I need for the rest of my journey a star that will not play false to me, a compass that will not lie. I shall do this, not because I am a negrophile and a hater of my own, but because I cannot find it in me to do anything else. I am lost when I balance this against that, I am lost when I ask if this is safe, I am lost when I ask if men, white men or black men, Englishmen or Afrikaners, Gentiles or Jews, will approve. Therefore I shall try to do what is right, and to speak what is true. I do this not because I am courageous and honest, but because it is the only way to end the conflict of my deepest soul. I do it because I am no longer able to aspire to the highest with one part of myself, and to deny it with another. I do not wish to live like that, I would rather die than live like that. I understand better those who have died for their convictions, and have not thought it was wonderful or brave or noble to die. They died rather than live, that was all.”

Spiritualise

I would like to dedicate this post to all of those wonderful people who have decided to dedicate themselves to the education of children. It is such a noble station and the work of an educator can never be paralleled by any other. Teachers build the foundation of our future societies. In the field of academic education most teachers spend more time with children than their own parents do. It is amazing how a good teacher can help transform a child and it is something that I know personally. To this very day I credit so much of myself to my kindergarten and grade 2 teacher Mrs Edwards. To think that a woman who last taught me when I was 7 could have contributed so much to the person I am today is really saying something about the power of an educator.

Teachers are in no way given the credit they deserve, they should be the most respected members of our communities because they work with our most precious resource but unfortunately we have a misguided society and that credit is rarely paid.

In the Baha’i Faith we believe there are 3 types of education and the dedication to children to foster any of these 3 types of education is equal in station. These 3 are mental, physical and spiritual education. The Baha’i Faith has in place systematic means of offering spiritual education which is education directed to the development of morals, the understanding of prayer and meditation, virtues and spiritual qualities and the building of capacity within oneself. As I have spoken about it before we have the Junior Youth Group Program. This is a socio economic program which is targeted towards kids aged between 11 and 15. Its purpose is to create an open environment where these kids can find more noble goals to work towards and find a place where they can be inspired by positive examples to help them be able to stand on their own two feet during those turbulent years of adolescence. The group works through a book, each lesson is aimed at helping with reading and comprehension thus advancing literary skills as well as bringing up concepts that require elevated conversations on different themes. The first book “Breezes of Confirmation” brings up the theme of confirmation. It stimulates discussions based on the idea of knowing what you’re doing is the right thing to do. It brings up this topic in terms of deciding what you want to do with your future and what steps you have to take to get there. For example if what you want is to study at university the book challenges you to look at what you are doing to make that happen but it also creates the understanding that if you want to achieve something and it is right for you then God will help you, doors will open and opportunities arise you just have to be able to see those opportunities and take advantage of them.

So why am I bringing this up again and why the sudden desire to praise our educators? Well today, after a few weeks of strikes and deportation from the country, I went back to Kuyga school to re-establish our Junior Youth Group. For those who want to know what happened the first time refer to my post Kuyga’s Finest. The first time was just me and Sibakheh and those 44 kids and it was amazing. The Afrikaans and Xhosa kids all getting along and happy to come together to be part of one group. It was so amazing but, but, but, but... it was a fun lesson. We went there purely to introduce the Junior Youth Group to the kids. We did an art activity and we talked for a bit and played sport and took photos. It didn’t need much in terms of coordination, it doesn’t take much to get kids to draw and play sports so it was easy.

YOH YOH YOH!!!! Today, today I realised how difficult, how straining, how exhausting the work of a teacher is. Today it was me, Bayan, Ponthi, Sibakheh, Zintle and Nthabisang and 40 kids. I was like 6 of us 40 of them too easy. YOH YOH YOH!!! Wow the things you don’t think of, the effort it takes, the logistics, the coordination. Man oh man that was some seriously insane stuff, eternally rewarding and wonderfully inspiring, but seriously insane stuff.

So here I will share our experiences running a JY group with 40 kids, how it went, what we learnt and what our plan is for the future so that perhaps if anyone else has the opportunity to do something like this they can get a little understanding from here.

School has been on strike for 3+ weeks. I asked Sibakheh and Zintle, sisters who attend the school, to keep me informed of when the strike would end so that we could start our jy group again. Monday I get the call, Tuesday it’s on. My plan is to get to the school half an hour before school ends so that I can go to the grade 5 classrooms and remind the kids. Unfortunately when you have to rely on taxis for transport time is completely out of your control. So I get to the school within minutes of bell time and I’ll just tell you something funny, when they ‘ring the bell’ for the end of school they actually ring the bell. A kid is sent around the school with a thing that makes a ‘clank clank dong dong’ sound and he walks around donging and clanking to signify the end of school. Hilarious and slightly disappointing as the school doesn’t even have the means to ring a real bell.

So schools out, I am trying to get in touch with Sibakheh to tell her to race to the grade 5 classrooms and make sure the kids don’t go home. Her phone is busy. I see a group of kids “What grade are you in?” “Grade 5” “ok go back and tell all the grade 5 kids we have class today.” Yay for the plan. Now as I am kinda considered a ‘white person’ I tend to draw a lot of attention in the townships especially in the school. Within a few seconds I have a heard of kids surrounding me, just staring at me, waiting to see what I’ll do next. Bayan is with me and she laughs “Everyone is saying come and see the white girl.” I mean really there are white people all over this country I don’t see how I can be that big of a deal, and I’m olive not white.

So me and my heard head towards the grade 5 rooms to gather our posse and start our class. There are a lot of kids here but something’s wrong. Where are all the Afrikaans students? I assume we are going to be using the same classroom we used the week before which was an Afrikaans room. I’ve already seen the Afrikaans teacher and he says its fine to use his room, then one of the Xhosa teachers tells me we should use her room instead. I ask her where the Afrikaans students are, she says they don’t really like to participate in this sort of thing and we should use her room because people might talk if we use an Afrikaans room with all these Xhosa kids. I’m so confused, so, so confused. Last time the Afrikaans kids were fine, they were happy and excited and they all said they wanted to come back and be part of it. The whole group was happy and now instead I get this and I feel hopeless and sad because I really thought we could change that whole us and them mentality and break through the cultural barrier. I guess we need to just keep trying.

40 kids manage to squish themselves into this classroom. There are a bunch of kids here that weren’t the first time so we start with a recap and a re-introduction to the jy group. Now it is time for the girls to take over the group, me and Bayan are just here to help them out but it is supposed to be their group. I ask them to start off by working with the kids to create some rules for the group. These 4 girls stand in front of the class and silence. They don’t talk, the kids don’t talk. They look at each other, they look at me. The kids look at them, the kids look at me. Oh dear. So I push things along and eventually we have our group rules, my rule is always the best; have fun or I will give you a beating. Now we distribute the books to each kid and open up to start the first lesson. We have decided that since it’s the first lesson we will conduct it as one big group so that the kids can get a feel for how things go. Ponthi volunteers to lead this section and everything starts out smoothly. We read the story a few times different kids in the class getting a turn to read then we move on to the exercise. This section asks questions about the story and you write down the answer. Usually takes a maximum of 10min. Half an hour later and we are onto question 5. Here we notice a problem. There are some kids in the class who need things to go slowly so that they can keep up and there are kids in the class who have raced ahead and have already finished the entire activity. Everything in this book is supposed to be done as a group so we read out the questions, the kids tell us what they think the answer is and when we agree on an answer we write it down together so the fact that some kids have finished everything shows us that they are getting bored because it’s too easy for them. Now what do we do with them? Bored kids means distractions, you can’t expect them to sit there and do nothing. At first I ask a few of them to walk around and help the others with their answers or with passing around the eraser or sharpener which are both in high demand. After a few minutes I see that this isn’t working and there are more kids who have finished the activity. I decide that I will take them outside and move on with the next activity giving the other kids the time they need to complete it and with less kids inside it would be easier to manage. So we go outside and it’s working or so I think. Turns out that the kids inside now feel like they are being left behind because they want to be in the outside group and so they start rushing ahead so that they can be part of the ‘other group’.

Two groups have emerged, the inside group and the outside group. I can’t think of what else we could have done. The inside group are painfully slow at completing the first activity but soon we realise why. There are two 8 year olds sitting in the class. We have 40 kids with an age range from 8 to 17. Some kids in the room aren’t even in grade 5, they just wanted to be part of whatever it was we were doing so they decided to come too. We decide the best thing to do is to have a ‘help your neighbour’ policy so anyone that finishes a question should help anyone around them who hasn’t finished yet. This speed things up especially when we ask the outside kids to come back inside and help too. Finally it’s time to move on to the next activity but not before allowing the group to stand up and do something fun so Bayan plays a little game with us all which is actually hilarious and I can’t wait to play it with everyone in the world. Then we move on.

We spend around 15min on the next exercise, this one isn’t as tedious and I change it around to make it more fun by getting kids to draw instead of write things so it doesn’t take as much assistance either. We decide that it would be better to leave the book part of the class at that as it’s been over an hour that we’ve been sitting at desks. I read out a list of names I have of kids that came to the first class to see who’s new and who dropped out and I have a lot of fun trying to pronounce the names. We take down all the kids birthdays so we can get a better understanding of the age group we are dealing with before pulling out the soccer ball and netball which makes the kids go crazy. Everything in a jy group has purpose even sport so I ask the girls who understand netball to facilitate that and me and Bayan try to organise the soccer game. The point of sport is about unity, you work together with your team mates to achieve something.

So as the kids play me and Bayan step back and evaluate the chaos that just occurred. First of all 40 kids is way too much to achieve the purpose of each exercise and to ensure that all kids are taken care of. First things first we have to find a way to divide the group. We decide to do it by age and allocate a different animator to each age group so 10-11 in one group 12-13 in another group and 14+ in another group. I’m not sure what we’ll do with the 8 year olds just yet who are way too young to understand the content of the book. Next is ensuring that these girls can stand on their own two feet even if me and Bayan aren’t there. Now in all fairness to the girls they are new at this and it is a lot of kids. Especially for Sibakheh who is only 13 herself. So we will give them time to develop their confidence and we decided that next week me and Bayan are really going to take a backseat and let the kids see that the other girls are in charge. Another issue is food. School ends at 1pm and our class today went till 3.30pm. That’s a long time without food especially for this age group. We have to think about providing something for the kids but it has to be small otherwise they will expect too much from us and it could interfere with why you come to the class. Next is establishing a structure. We need to ensure that there’s a pattern that is followed. You come inside, we take a register of who’s here, we recap on the week before...etc Another thing that I need to do is find a way to inform the parents. We don’t want kids to misuse the jy group saying that they are attending after school and then doing something else instead, with a smaller group we would accompany them home but I think the best thing we can do is guarantee a finishing time every week so that parents expect their kids home at a certain time. Unfortunately in the townships parents aren’t really concerned with where their kids are, I mean this is the second time that I’ve run a class at the school without letting the parents know. Their kids haven’t turned up at home in over 2 hours since school ended and not one parent came to the school to inquire about their child.

So basically what we learnt from this experience is that a group this large should be divided into smaller groups when doing the activities because you can’t offer each child the attention that they need when the group is so big. Also with such a vast age group kids are going to work at different paces so we have to ensure that no one gets bored waiting for someone else to finish. Have lots of short games on hand for when the class gets restless to give them a quick break so that you can carry on with a bit more energy. It’s hard to learn everyone’s names and to identify different personalities in such a large group. This makes it much more difficult to try and remember which kids needed more help and which were self sufficient. These kinds of observations are really important for the smooth running of the group in the future so maybe take notes on the child’s appearance or take a photo which is what I’m planning on doing and be willing to make fun of yourself in order to break the ice.

Today was so hectic that although I brought my camera I didn’t get a single chance to bring it out, there was just too much going on. It was a whole lot of fun though, as always I loved every minute of it. At one point a did dust angels on the floor to try and show the kids there’s nothing wrong with sitting on the ground. They still refused and just told me it made me dirty... which it did but that’s not the point.

I’m still really excited, I can’t wait for Tuesdays. I literally have to dedicate the entire day to this group, I spend the morning preparing, the afternoon conducting and the evening resting. I can’t wait to see how this group progresses and see if by having almost an entire grade going through this program it changes the atmosphere of the school and the community.

At the end of the class I again reminded the kids to come up with a name for our group, one boy said Spiritualise. I don’t think it’ll stick but I thought that was nice.

Townships

Remember when I said that South Africa can continue to shock you no matter how long you’ve been here for, well today I felt it. Another shock and I’ve been here almost 4 months now.

I’ve spoken about Kuyga, it is the township that the Baha’is in P.E are currently focusing on. Well Kuyga and townships in general shocked me. That the governments solution for the poor was to build them a crummy little shoebox where sometimes 10 people were living inside was very shocking to me. Seeing the way people lived in this township, driving around on a Saturday morning and in ever front yard was people sitting around getting drunk, the fact that there are more liquor shops than grocery stores, that children wander the streets completely unsupervised sometimes even carrying their younger siblings around. In my experience of life whenever a child wants to hold a little baby parents are so protective of the baby. “Sit down and I’ll put baby in your lap, careful of her head, put this arm like that and your other arm there, very good. Awww look how cute, now give baby back.” Here if you are old enough to walk you are old enough to care for your younger siblings. I guess you could look at it as a sign of maturity that a 7 year old knows how to take care of a baby but I’m not so sure. So Kuyga is bad according to my standards of how people should be living. The streets are dirty and by the way all made of mud, there are no tar roads in Kuyga, there are dogs everywhere and I mean everywhere as well as the random cow or goat walking the streets and with stray animals means animal doo doo, you have to wear closed shoes walking around otherwise you will end up with a thorn or glass in your foot. It’s just not that nice a place.

Yesterday I was talking to someone about the difference between government housing in Aus and in Kuyga and I was explaining how if anyone were to attempt to raise children in a house like a township home in Australia they would have their children taken away from them for child neglect. He looked at me with surprise and then said something I most definitely did not believe ‘Kuyga is one of the good townships’.

Well at the time like I said I didn’t believe it, not that I didn’t think it could get worse, this is Africa it can always get worse, but more so that I couldn’t conceive what could be worse than Kuyga. More mud? More dogs? More drunk people? Today I saw it, I saw what worse looks like and it shocked me.

I don’t even know how to describe what worse looks like, a township is a concept that I don’t think you can fully comprehend when you’ve been raised in a country like Australia. I could explain to you what it looks like I could even show you photos and videos but you can never really understand until you’ve seen it. What I saw today was disheartening, it made me feel hopeless and upset and confused. I saw people stealing electricity, they would get a chair and 2 men would stand on it, one pushing the other up, to reach the power lines. They would pull a line down and then attach another line to connect to their homes. Mr Fudu who works for the council said that the council is powerless to stop this because most of the councillors stand up for these people. I mean they don’t have electricity what are they supposed to do light a candle? These people are living in shacks, these shacks are small and filled with people and there are way too many stories of them burning down with entire families trapped inside. I was shocked.

Now let me explain something about the shack houses. In a township your house is given to you for free and you don’t pay for your water. The only thing you have to pay for is your electricity. Sounds like a fair deal, a free home with minimal costs it sounds like the government is doing a great job to help tackle poverty and homelessness. Here’s the flaw. There are no restrictions on who can get a free house, there are no regulations, there are no checks. Anyone can own a house in a township all you have to do is build a shack somewhere in the township and within maybe a year the government will build you a brick house. You don’t have to be poor to live in a township and unfortunately people are abusing the system. I own a home, I want another home, I build a shack, I get a free home. It is taxpayers that are covering all these costs and with no regulations people are taking advantage of the offer.

Don’t get me wrong it’s not like these townships homes are luxury living but it’s land and a house and anyone can cash in on the offer. Sometimes you go into a township and see huge houses with nice gardens and a fancy car parked in front. People are definitely abusing the system. So why not regulate the townships and then you realise it’s all about politics. People need votes to get power, regulating townships isn’t going to make you Mr. Popularity. And so it continues, more shacks are set up surrounding the brick homes and eventually some family gets a place to live. A corrupt system is better than no system at all, at least people will have a roof over their heads. I still don’t like the idea of it, the whole system is in need of a renovation. When you continually hand out freebies there’s no incentive to work for what you have. There’s so much alcohol and crime in the townships, without even stereotyping or making an unfair judgement township lifestyle is based around alcohol. When you grow up in this world it ends up being all you know, there is this cycle that continues around and around, each generation starting earlier than the last.

So today I was shocked again. Another interesting lesson learnt. I wonder what the next will be.

And be not of those who doubt

As I hastily packed my bags, trying to keep it light and thorough at the same time, I felt so right, so relaxed and sure about leaving. I hadn’t been completely happy in South Africa. Things hadn’t felt like they were going the right way and I felt completely overwhelmed by my separation from the easy life and how trying this country had been.

I planned the trip to Uganda in approximately 36hours. I booked the flights on Tuesday afternoon and flew out on Thursday morning. In such a short space of time everything just worked. I emailed the Ugandan Baha’i National Office requesting help with a place to stay, 2 hours later they replied with accommodation for me and directions on how to get from the airport to the temple. Everything just worked out.

For some time I had been contemplating leaving SA in December and going upwards to Ethiopia or Tanzania both countries border with Uganda. Arriving in Uganda, driving out into the street, the air warm and thick even at 8pm, the landscape was green and there were people walking the streets, shops still open, life still moving. I came to Uganda to escape for a while and I found home. The streets, the air, the scenery, everything looked like Vanuatu. I couldn’t believe it, I knew I had found my answer, the place I could be happy. No crime to keep people locked in their homes after dark, safe enough for women to wander the streets alone at night, cars and taxis still filling the streets. Life here continued after 7pm.

Arriving at the temple confirmed everything, I felt such an amazing sense of relief, my heart felt lighter. Everything about the country told me that I wanted to stay there, that Uganda would be my sanctuary.

I think what happened in SA was that I became overwhelmed by everything that was going wrong, Home Affairs and all the drama there, holding classes where no one would turn up, social issues in the community..etc. It became hard for me to pull myself out of that hole of things going wrong and rise up over everything. I started to drown and I couldn’t find anything to hold on to to pull me out. I was exhausted, I was drained, I was fed up and I needed a release, an escape, a safety net, anything to help me pull my head up out of the water. I feel like that came in Uganda.

The day that I realised I would have to leave South Africa I was talking to Luvuyo about how right it felt that I was going. I was tired of fighting Home Affairs about my visa and I realised that it was a losing battle. I finally noticed the sign that said it was time for me to leave. We talked about how sometimes you need to step out of the circle so that you can see it in its entirety. I had to remove myself from the picture so that I wouldn’t be blocking my own view.

Uganda pulled me out of my water filled hole, Uganda was my rope, my safety net, my escape. I felt like it had all the answers. I felt like leaving SA would solve everything. If SA was what was making me unhappy then a lack of SA would mean happiness.

The first few days I was there Uganda was utter perfection. The air smelt better, the food was nicer, the people were happier and above all I gained the one thing that I have missed and craved more than anything, freedom and independence. Crime is a prison, we lock ourselves in, we don’t leave the house, we constantly watch our backs in South Africa because of the crime. No crime in Uganda meant freedom from that prison. I could walk the streets at night, shops are open till very late, there is public transport running till 1am. My cage was gone and I was so happy. The temple grounds are vast and beautiful. People come and just sit on the slopes of the hill, relaxing, reading, sleeping. It is such a nice place to just let go of everything and be at ease. As I talked to the Ugandan Baha’is I felt even more right about staying in Uganda. Everyone told me that I should come back to serve. They told me how desperate the temple is for volunteers, how there are 3 Baha’i schools that could use help, I was even offered the opportunity to fulfil one of my dreams. In northern Uganda one of the Baha’i centres collapsed and it needs to be rebuilt. I was told that if I came back I could go and rebuild it, making the bricks from scratch and constructing the whole thing. I was in absolute shock, I’ve always wanted to be a builder, I’m planning on studying construction when I get home and right there for the taking is an opportunity I never thought I would get. Yes, it was confirmed. I would come back to Uganda in January and stay till May. That was the plan, a nice easy plan, then things changed.

Every day I went to the temple to pray and to re-centre my thoughts and figure things out. One subject I spent a lot of time on was South Africa. After about the midway point in my stay in Uganda something strange started to happen, I started to miss South Africa. Absurd I know, how could anyone miss this country with its muggers and rapists and racism and lack of equal opportunity and poverty and inefficiency and corruption...etc. I found myself in the most strange position of looking forward to going home. Did you get that last word, I said home. South Africa, the country I was so excited to see the back of was my home and I missed it.

There is one thing that I need to deal with in my life and that’s how to handle the hard times. When things are going good I’m all there, I’m miss 100% the one you can count on always with a smile on her face and a positive thought but when things go wrong I want to run. I’m a runner, I leave, I walk away, I forget and move on. I don’t know how to deal with things. It occurred to me that I was solving my problems with South Africa by running away, if I up and left to what I thought was a better country then all my problems would disappear. I should have realised by now that it doesn’t work like that. I ran away from Australia and came to SA thinking that I was leaving the bad things behind and realising only when I got here that somehow they had found their way into my suitcase. Now I wanted to do the same, I wanted to leave SA because things got tough and I couldn’t deal with them. The light bulb came on, I was the problem not South Africa.

There’s corruption in Uganda, there’s poverty in Uganda, there’s a lack of equal opportunity in Uganda and a lack of efficiency in Uganda so why was I so positive about staying there and resentful about going back to SA. Only because of what I said before, I thought different location, different people, different environment would solve everything. It doesn’t. When I stopped being angry at South Africa I realised how much I liked it there. I still wouldn’t want to live here and I still don’t think it’s the greatest place on Earth, quite the opposite actually, but I realised that it’s my home now. I have friends here, I have a purpose here and I can help here I just needed to adjust myself in order to see that.

Soon what I thought was confirmation for me to stay in Uganda became confirmation for me to stay in South Africa. As I talked to people about the problems that I had noticed in SA the reactions changed from “You should come here” to “they need all the help they can get, you should stay there”. That was the whole reason I decided to come to SA in the first place, because I realised how much they need the help. Losing that anger and resentment was so relieving. Suddenly I was excited about going home and putting my new energy into action. All it took was me removing myself from the picture and looking at things holistically instead of only from my point of view.

There is a prayer in the Baha’i Writings called the Tablet of Ahmad that really hit me. Although I’ve read it tonnes of times before, I've even memorised it, there was one line that I really took from it on this trip

“And be not of those who doubt.”

I challenged myself fulfil this line. Stop doubting life when things get hard, try more perseverance and determination. So I’m going to stick it out here in South Africa. It’s going to be hard and trying and frustrating but that’s ok. I have removed all my prior expectations and I’m just going to do what I can “Even if the swords of the enemies rain blows upon thee and all the heavens and the earth arise against thee..”

Uganda was exactly what I needed, in the week that I was there I learnt so much about myself and Africa. I learnt that Africa needs a lot of help, corruption is embedded into every facet of society, greed and selfishness have stunted progress in every field, language has become such a barrier amongst that even people from the same country are segregated because of their inability to communicate. Africa has issues and although it would be easier to run I’ve never been one to take the easy way out.

I’m not upset anymore about the things that went wrong because they got me to this point of clarity. Instead I’m grateful for everything that has happened and I only hope that I can continue to pull myself out of all the future problems which I know I will have to face.

There is one other prayer that I have been trying to implement into my life and if I can then I should have no reason to worry or feel frustrated anymore..

O God! Refresh and gladden my spirit. Purify my heart. Illumine my powers. I lay all my affairs in Thy hand. Thou art my Guide and my Refuge. I will no longer be sorrowful and grieved; I will be a happy and joyful being. O God! I will no longer be full of anxiety, nor will I let trouble harass me. I will not dwell on the unpleasant things of life.

O God! Thou art more friend to me than I am to myself. I dedicate myself to Thee, O Lord.

- 'Abdu'l-Bahá

The Mother Temple

In every continent of the world (excluding Antarctica) there is a Baha'i Temple. This makes for a total of 7. As a Sydney sider I have often taken for granted having one of these Temples in my city. The Sydney Baha'i House of Worship is a beautiful temple and although it takes just over an hour for me to drive there from good old Campbelltown now that I have come to Africa I have realised that that's not that far. The 3 months that I was in South Africa and mostly during the last month in Port Elizabeth I have been absolutely craving the temple. My heart had been burning for an opportunity to visit Africa's temple in Uganda and God gave me that opportunity. I was forced to temporarily leave South Africa and it was the ultimate opportunity for me.

I arrived in Entebbe at 7.30pm and made it to Kampala by around 9pm. As we approached the temple I could see it glowing on top of the hill. I was home. I felt such a relief, every stress and anxiety that I had been holding fell away, every tension in my body was eased. Just the sight of the temple brought me joy. I wanted to cry from happiness.

Every Baha'i temple has its own character. The Sydney temple has a relaxed and pure feel. It is a simple yet beautiful temple, for me it has a sense of homeliness. When I'm overseas and I see a picture of it I feel pride and love for my temple.

The Lotus Temple in New Dehli, India has a sense of majesty. As you approach it you fall into a state of awe. It is a magnifiscent temple, a single piece of beauty in an otherwise unattractive city. It truly stands as a flower amongst the weeds. Stepping inside this temple, however, you feel a deep sense of purity and spirituality. I think with this temple you have to visit it a few times as the first time you go it can be difficult to centre yourself and pray as you are so captivated by the amazing architecture and elegance of the temple.

The 3rd temple in the list of those I've been able to visit is the Ugandan temple. Circumstances change your experiences, I came to this temple as a refuge. I came because I wanted to be close to a channel that would connect me to the Holy Land(Akka, Israel). For me this temple has been the most spiritually uplifting of them all. I feel like all the troubles in my life have vanished. This temple relaxes me, it takes me home. It is such a simple and humble temple. It welcomes you, makes you feel fulfilled and allows you to reach a state where all your thoughts are one, where everything is right and nothing can hurt you. During the day the sun shines through the windows and illumines the whole temple, at night it stands on the top of this hill, glowing as a beacon of light, protecting everyone from darkness and guiding you home. I truly adore this temple, every moment I'm away from it I long for it's warmth and love.

On the 15th of January 2011 the Ugandan Temple will celebrate its 50th birthday. Everyone is invited to attend the celebration. The temple is now being renovated and cleaned and the gardens are being remade for the celebration. I hope to be back in Uganda for this occassion and I may even finish the last 5 months of my service here.

If you ever find yourself on this side of the world you must come visit this temple. It has extensive gardens which are so peaceful you can compltely lose yourself in the tranquility.

Also the temple is in urgent need of volunteers in the fields of gardening and cleaning. Accommodation for volunteers is free and living expenses here are minimal, I've been spending around $1 aus a day. Anyone who can offer atleast 1 month to a year of service please apply, there are also lots of opportunities to help work within the community or in any one of the 3 Baha'i schools in Uganda. If you are interested contact the National Baha'i Office of Uganda: ugandabahai@gmail.com

:)