…And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished something difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.

Congratulations, by the way.

When young, we’re anxious – understandably – to find out if we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life for ourselves? But you – in particular you, of this generation – may have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can do well in the good job so you can…

And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process has to include taking ourselves seriously – as doers, as accomplishers, as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.

Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding”, whatever that might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.

So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up. Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own behalf – seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines, energetically, for the rest of your life.

Do all the other things, the ambitious things – travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness. Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality – your soul, if you will – is as bright and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Ghandi’s, bright as Mother Theresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.

And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.

Congratulations, Class of 2013.

I wish you great happiness, all the luck in the world, and a beautiful summer.”

- George Saunders

…So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:

What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.

Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded…sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.

Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?

Those who were kindest to you, I bet.

It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.

Now the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?

Here’s what I think:

Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably somehow Darwinian. These are: (1) we’re central to the universe (that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story, the only story, really); (2) we’re separate from the universe (there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk – dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people); and (3) we’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).

Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we know better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them, and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts, is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening in the present moment, more open, and more loving.

So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this? How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less delusional, etc., etc.?

Well, yes, good question.

Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.

So let me just say this. There are ways. You already know that because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good; immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good; meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition – recognizing that there have been countless really smart people before us who have asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.

Because kindness, it turns out, is hard – it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include…well, everything.

One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we get older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish – how illogical, really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving. I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet, Hayden Curruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was “mostly Love, now”…

“Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).

And I intend to respect that tradition.

Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do one of their old-time “dances” so you can watch, while laughing, is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they not tell you, they’ll tell you.

So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse”? (And don’t even ASK what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that. Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking up and seeing like 300 monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my open mouth, naked? And getting deathly ill afterwards, and staying sick for the next seven months? Not so much. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting the girl? No. I don’t even regret that.

But here’s something I do regret:

In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN”. ELLEN was small, shy. She wore those blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.

So she came to our school and our neighbourhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” – that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d looked after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”

Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.

And then – they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.

One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.

End of story…

Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thing about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.

But still. It bothers me…

One of the most valuable nuggets-of-gold that I have acquired in my SAWIP experience is the following: Be kind towards and gentle with others; be generous with complimentary and encouraging words and deeds. This way of being/living was, I thought, particularly well embodied by Glen Ackerman (who is a founding partner of the law firm Ackerman Brown, which is based in Washington, D.C.).

Kindness is defined, in the Oxford Dictionary of English, as “the quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate. My favourite stories are stories of kindness and selflessness. The people I most enjoy spending time with, are people who are kind. Yet, kindness is something that I struggle with. I do not practice kindness as consistently as I would like to. I am too often selfish. Although I am increasingly “wrestling with my mortality” (as Frank Strasburger, of Princeton in Africa, put it during our session with him in Washington, D.C.), and despite the fact that I know (intellectually) that I am not the centre of the universe, I am too often too self-absorbed to exercise kindness. I am not as generous with my time, heart, resources, forgiveness, encouragement, and affirmation as I could (and believe, ought to) be.

Kindness is an essential feature of day-to-day human and non-human existence and interaction. Kindness is an essential feature of SAWIP. As I reflect on the SAWIP 2013 journey, I realise that it would (1) not have been possible, and (2) not have been the beautiful experience it was, without the kindness of everyone involved. If not for the kindness of the various donors, SAWIP would not have happened; if not for the kindness of the host families involved, we probably would not have been able to have professional exposure opportunities in Washington, D.C.; etc.

My SAWIP journey is strewn with many occurrences of kindness: I remember my host family, the Schneider’s (Mark, Lee, and Ashley), who every day would give us a lift to and, if it was not too late in the evening, pick us up from West Falls Church (metro station). I remember the kindness of the people I interacted with at the World Bank’s Office of Ethics and Business Conduct (where I had my professional exposure). I remember Tim’s regular WhatsApp messages of encouragement. I remember the numerous occasions that Camille gave Cecil, Olwethu, and me a lift to SAWIP events. I remember the moments when I took the risk of revealing myself to someone (something I do seldom and with difficulty) and they responded with kindness. I remember when others acted kindly toward me by revealing themselves to me. I remember the kind words and the words spoken kindly.

George Saunders spoke on the subject of kindness in his Convocation Speech delivered at Syracuse University for the Class of 2013. In the speech (which I have reprinted in three parts in my next three blog posts), he speaks about kindness, the things that work against our actually achieving it, and the risk in focusing too much on “success”. The speech is well worth reading…

Good Evening everyone. My name is Elroy Bell, I was asked to speak tonight on behalf of my team. I am one of a team of 15 members who are the 2013 Class of the South African Washington International Programme, or SAWIP. As part of our programme we have been participating in a community engagement short course through the FVZS institute.

A little bit of background: For those who are unfamiliar with what SAWIP is, SAWIP is a 6 months service and leadership development programme. A team of 15 students selected for the programme are chosen from Stellenbosch University, the University of the Western Cape and the University of Cape Town. We are from various backgrounds and disciplines, our team consists of a physiotherapist, a student of food security, politics majors, economics majors, a Latin scholar, finance, law and I am a student of theatre. SAWIP’s ethos “for service and leadership” rings loudly in our ears, in that common among all of us is the belief that to lead is to serve, the two go hand in hand. Our Team of 15 have been involved in serving our communities in various ways and it is this dedication to serving others that we are celebrating here tonight.

As part the SAWIP 2013 curriculum, not only do we have the opportunity to spend time with Leslie, Grant, Michelle, Delano and the rest of the MGD team, and benefit from their knowledge but we are also tasked with creating a community engagement project of our own design. For the most, this process has been an enjoyable one, however there have been trying times.

It was during this project that I realised why organisations that represent global leaders are some of the least efficient at implementing solutions. A group of 15 passionate university leaders, all determined to make this project work but each with our own ideas of what, where and how. It took us months to decide what this project would be.

We developed it while we were all working in Washington DC, this winter, and changed a lot of it when we got back, two weeks before we were to begin. But it is through this constant re-evaluation of what we were doing that we are now currently implementing a project all of us are proud of.

This past Saturday saw the first session of the Langeberg Leadership series in Robertson. We decided to partner with Langeberg High school and implement a two week personal development and leadership workshop series, with the core intentions to enable empowerment and broaden perspectives. From the beginning it was important for all of to do something that would have a long lasting impact on whomever participated and I think I speak for all of my team members when I say listening to those students on Saturday, we felt the ground shift as each of us sensed the benefit, not only that we may have had on the group of students working with us, but also the impact they had on us.

Driving back from Robertson on Saturday, I was struck by how easy it had all been, how much fun it was and I was left wondering why it was such a big task to organise. And with the anticipation of this Saturday where our young leaders will be coming to Stellenbosch to continue our workshops, I know that had it not been for all the emails, plans and schedules, none of us would’ve had the humbling experience of talking to just one student and walk away with both our steps a little lighter.

In reflection, one of our team members, Mario Meyer, was reminded of quote from Margaret Mead. In light of such adversity, it best describes our group of students from Langeberg : “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it was the only thing that ever has.”

Thank you.

We kicked off the Robertson Community Service Project on Saturday the 24th of August. We had spent weeks in advance e-mailing one another, organising budget, logistics, materials, branding, catering, etc., liasing with Langeberg Secondary School and doing many other things together as a team in preparation for the project take off.

I was so nervous about reaching out to an Afrikaans-speaking group of students, but I found myself having fun as I tried to remember all the Afrikaans sentence construction rules I had learned in high school. The students did understand me when I spoke English as well so that definitely lifted the burden off my shoulders. Being in this situation also made me realize that as a South African in a country with 11 official languages, not even the language barrier should deter us from interacting with people who speak different languages. I found it rather empowering to go out there and do my best to communicate in a language I am not comfortable with. It made me pay more attention to the students, value what they had to say, and try to add more words to my Afrikaans vocabulary. Even now I find myself wanting to use woorde soos miskien en belangrik en verskillende en geliefkoos in my sinne!

At the start of the first day of project implementation, we asked the students what their expectations were so that we as the team could do our best to meet them. They were so eager and also curious to find out who we are – “S-A-W-I-P” – as one of the students referred to us as.

We had a session where three of the SAWIP team members shared their personal South African stories. The students from Robertson got a chance to ask some questions they could gain life lessons from.

We facilitated sessions on identity and self-esteem which really got the students thinking. By the end of that first day they all left feeling different because the way they viewed the world had changed.

On the second implementation day (31st August), the students had an outing to Stellenbosch University. There they toured the campus and learned more about the history of the University. They got to hear from via SKYPE from Cheri-Erasmus, a SAWIP alumnus from Robertson, about her journey and life in Washington DC. They were definitely inspired by her story and the advice she gave them.

There were sessions on goal setting and who they want to be in 5 years time which got them to realize that dreams can be achieved as long as they believe and work very hard at reaching them.

Many activities were packed into the day but the goal of inspiring the youngsters and enlarging perspectives was fulfilled. By the end of the two days, the students had learned so much. We dreaded parting ways with them because we had bonded so much even during the lunch breaks. We had formed a relationship with them.

As much as the students were learning from us, we learned so much from them too. They are so eager to learn. They want to make a difference in their community. They want to work hard and achieve all their massive dreams. They have bright ideas and are super creative. I looked at them and thought to myself how when I was their age, leadership didn’t seem so important to me. They are a bunch of students with a different standard indeed – being an example to their peers as they lead.

It was so beautiful at the end of the last session when we heard them give feedback on what they had learned and how their experience had been. They were so grateful to have received the opportunity. It was so amazing to see how they understood exactly the type of impact SAWIP has on a person – that of heightening perspectives and giving hope. I was just so moved that such young people had so much wisdom and so much insight about the importance of leadership in their community.

As the 2013 team we all applied for SAWIP understanding the profound importance of the TEAM. It was so beautiful when we came together to plan this project. On the project implementation days we just did everything with so much synergy. Everyone played a pivotal part in making the project a success. It wasn’t about who had the most important responsibilities, or who contributed more than the other, or who got to speak more than the other – it was simply about the cause at hand: developing and empowering a bunch of high school student leaders with dreams and goals of their own in a world riddled with setbacks and obstacles. Never was I prouder to be part of the SAWIP 2013 team than when we worked together to make this happen. Indeed, it’s not about me – how talented and smart or creative I am: It’s about making a positive difference in the lives of others.

One of the reasons I applied for SAWIP was the hope that, if selected, I would establish life-long friendships with the other members of the SAWIP 2013 Team. I hoped that I would meet like-minded and diverse people with whom I could, and would, connect.

As I shared in my first blog post, I applied for SAWIP in both 2010 and 2011. In retrospect, I am glad that I was selected for SAWIP in 2013 (as wonderful as I believe the SAWIP 2010 or SAWIP 2011 experience would have been). I think that, for various reasons, I was meant to be part of the SAWIP 2013 Team. One of those reasons is my team itself. Sharing this experience with Anna-Marie, Camille, Cara, Cecil, Elroy, Jess, Lwamba, Matt, Olwethu, Phillip, Sibahle, Tim, Wiaan, and Zizipho is what has made it the special experience that it has been. They have been a source of support, joy, inspiration, and occasional strife. I am a better person, because we have shared this experience together.

SAWIP is different to many of the leadership development programs that I know of, because the people selected for SAWIP spend a great deal of time together over the course of the program. This allows time and occasion for relationships to form, and for meaningful bonds to be established. I have grown to care deeply for my team, and I have enjoyed every moment of this journey with them.

Although SAWIP 2013 ends with graduation on the 27^th of September, I know that the bonds I have formed with my friends will endure long after the final speech has been said, and I look forward to investing in these most cherished friendships.

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” – Anais Nin

“Do not walk behind me; I may not lead. Do not walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.” – Albert Camus

“How About This Weather Hey...”

So, a lot of my impressions and experiences of DC are grand and great. But a lot of it too, the stuff it is impossible to convey when someone asks “How was DC?”, is relatively minor. The temperatures were incredible. Not the temperature so much as humidity. Food is convenient. In Downtown DC where I was working (it’s more or less like the Sandton of DC) every second door is a food shop. From high end, 4 star places I imagine World Bank executives frequent to low end, fast food joints interns like myself frequented getting lunch is as easy as taking a few steps out of your office building. In the same way iPhone was the device of choice for 90% of the people I saw, so too is Starbucks the overwhelming favourite – IT’S EVERYWHERE. If I had some spare change I would certainly look into opening one up in the downtown area. I guess that is the difference between a “developed” and “developing” country – the seemingly small things. The convenience of the metro system and accessibility to choice (not convinced this is necessarily the sort of “development” worth emulating) are the sorts of things that by the end of my 6 weeks I had taken as given and necessary.

The level of poverty is something I also found rather strange. On the one hand, I found the average beggar on the street to be far better off than the average beggar in Johannesburg. When it was hot some of the homeless had bottles of water, in the late afternoon I would walk toward SAWIP offices from the USADF and I would walk past beggars eating McDonalds meal. This past weekend Camille and I had a discussion on this and she remarked, “I thought poverty was poverty no matter where you went. That all changed the day that guy didn’t take my sandwich.” I laughed. I remembered the day she was talking about: a few members of the team had gone to Chipotle for a taste of the much raved about Mexican. We struggled our way through the “infant” (Elroy’s description) sized Burritos but most of us failed to finish so we took doggy bags. We walked past a homeless man and Camille offered her leftover, “Nah, I’m good – I don’t want that!” he replied. That was without a doubt the first time we had been declined in such a way. We chuckled to each other, shocked, in a “We’re not in Kansas anymore Toto” sort of way.

As much as DC poverty is not South African informal settlement poverty, it still exists. On our last night we visited the White House. I was taken aback at how many destitute people sleep on benches within what has to be viewing distance from a national and international centre of power. It was rather metaphoric. While marvelling at the iconic building – mesmerized and pinching myself that it was right in front of me, that I had just experienced everything I had experienced, that it was real and not a dream – behind me was another reality. I guess that’s how DC was in a nutshell: A chance to examine the ideal (a reality for some), all the while conscious of the immediacy of others, less fortunate, reality. It was, as any travel is, a chance to broaden my perspective of the USA, SA and (because of the global nature of DC) the world.

Americans know how to Ubuntu.

We (non-Americans) are often times led to understand Americans as self-interested bordering on selfish. It would seem capitalistic principles and the “pull yourself up from your bootstraps” attitude that underlies American society is all that informs social relations. My experience was quite to the contrary. On one afternoon the team took time off from our internships and attended the Points of Light conference. The conference is the biggest of its kind in the world: a conference dedicated solely to community service and the spirit of volunteerism. Thousands of people gathered from all across America to share experiences and inspiration about giving back. The conference itself was impressive (at least the afternoon sessions we attended): Donna Brazile was the MC, speakers included Karl Rove and J.R. Martinez, and the plenary was as glitzy as what I imagine a national convention to be like.

More than the Points of Light conference I found everyday Americans to be helpful, giving and highly aware that there exists a duty for every person to treat others according the Golden Rule. Every time I asked a stranger for directions (which ranged between once a day to once every block) they would not hesitate to explain how to get to my destination in detail (as opposed to simply pointing in the general direction – what I’m more used to). When they were a little unsure of exact street names or number of blocks they stopped dead in their tracks, dropped their bags and whipped out their iPhones (aside: witnessing how many people had iPhones it was not hard to understand Apple stock prices – EVERYONE HAS ONE!). One particular evening while wandering around DuPont I asked a group of people walking in the opposite to the one I was moving for directions. It turns out the exact spot we were at when I asked them was an intersection of what seemed like 15 different streets including a couple of the dreaded “diagonals”. One of the girls in the group gave me what she thought were the correct directions. After I’d walked a few blocks the girl sprinted back, iPhone in hand, and apologised profusely to giving incorrect directions. Pardon my shoddy story telling skills but it really took me a back that after giving directions and not being sure, she Google-Mapped the address and sprinted after me to ensure I got to my destination. This story is similar to the one I shared in an earlier blog about an evening the team was running through the streets of NYC in search of Times Square when a friendly New Yorker offered me his umbrella despite his need for it being greater than mine.

On almost every street corner in downtown DC there are a group of young people getting petition signatures or fundraising for some or other cause – the situation of refugees in the Democratic Republic of Congo, USA inner city education or lack of clean drinking water in Zambia. Would you or do you find the same in South Africa? It goes without saying that there are people working exceptionally hard to fight similar or equally important causes in South Africa. Perhaps their methods are more effective than college kids in the centre of DC. Perhaps not. What I took from this was the same sense of duty, volunteerism that was being praised at the Points Of Light Conference. This is a spirit that can be encouraged in our own country (if not encouraged then at least recognized more publicly).

It cannot be said enough times – the generosity and graceful hosting by not only the host parents but also board members really changed what I thought I knew about the way things are done across the pond.

A few team members have already mentioned how difficult this question is to handle. All at once you’re called upon to detail 6 weeks in a few sentences. Sigh. It is impossible. Even if time wasn’t an issue there would still be the challenge of finding the correct adjectives because ‘Awesome!’ and ‘Amazing!’ really don’t do the experience justice. So, I’ve decided to tackle the question head on and attempt to detail (more like outline) the most outstanding highlights of the journey.

“If you want to go fast go alone, if you want to go far go together.”

We saw this slightly kitsch phrase on our way out of OR Tambo airport, an advert for a big company. We chuckled and mocked the sheer cheesiness of it. Like all things cheesy though, it struck a nerve within most and perhaps we were too embarrassed to admit its truth. Firstly, the DC trip was not like other people’s trips to DC. It could not be replicated by one or even a few of us. One of the best things about the experience was the fact that it was shared. When happiness is divided it multiplies. Simply having friends around to share in the admiration of New York skyline or gawk at the White House made the experience all the better. Having people around to have post-discussion discussions was a good release and insight to not only how others view things but also how I receive things.

On another level, it was simply nice to bump into familiar faces on the Metro and in the street. DC isn’t the biggest city but it was made even less intimidating and homesickness was kept at bay because I was guaranteed to see a team mate (or WIP or NSL team member) on the way to work/a SAWIP event/intern happy hour.

Professional exposure

It really was a critical component to the whole experience. I was lucky to be placed at the US African Development Foundation. It was my first internship and first real exposure to a 9-5. Wow. My experience was a complete 180 degree shift from 1^st year lectures which I often (not too often *cough cough*) took as optional. My daily routine consisted of waking at 7 to leave for the Metro by 8:30 to be at work by 9:30.

It wasn’t an internship in the sense of doing photocopying and coffee runs. I was assigned to do research on Obama’s Young African Leaders Initiative ‘Washington Fellowship’ (http://youngafricanleaders.state.gov/washington-fellows). The ADF is one of the parties involved in the Fellowship, and my “job description” was to research how the Foundation could best set up inclusive selection criteria, mentorship program and a vibrant alumni network all the while with a focus on ADF’s strategic interest – economic empowerment of marginalized communities. It seems slightly inappropriate to use this phrase when describing work but I’m going to use it anyway – I had a WHALE of a time! Firstly, I found my “assignment” to be of great personal interest: I am a young African on a program much like what one would expect the Washington Fellowship to be like, and I’d hope in the future to be involved with the Washington Fellowship. Secondly, the staff at the ADF were extremely welcoming, friendly and helpful. From the friendly, elderly doorman who greeted me every-single-time I entered the building (even if it happened to be 5 times within the space of an hour) with a friendly, “Hi, how ya doin’ miss!?” or “Looks like its gonna rain laytuh!?” and my favourite of all time “Happy Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday!” etc. (as if everyday itself was worth celebrating in and of itself). My supervisor, Michele, went out of her way to ensure I understood my tasks and how to go about executing them. Also, it was arranged that on some days I would have one on one lunch with members of the staff. Each of them has their own interesting views and personal interest areas but all with the same bubbly, open demeanours. They were honest in discussing the work they do and where there is room for improvement. I appreciated this honesty greatly.

Before I arrived I had imagined all sorts of scenarios for how the world of work would be. In all variations and possible scenarios I’d imagined the world of work involved people at least 30 years my senior, who were set in their ways and unwilling to hear the opinion of an inexperienced 20-something (dark, I know, blame it on too much ‘The Devil Wears Prada’). The reality of my work exposure was that age was no big deal. Most of the PAs (Program Assistants) were in their 20s and 30s, and although they were younger I never got the sense of a great age-based hierarchy. It was rather a case of well experienced versus less experienced. This was one of the cool personal lessons I took from the exposure and the trip in general – age doesn’t automatically diminish the value of your contribution.

On the 19th of July we bid DC farewell. We said our last speeches, goodbyes and thank you's to a wonderful group of people who had come to listen to us for one last time. Having been fortunate enough to deliver a speech that night and feeling overcome with gratitude this is some of what I shared.

" I wanted to spend these few minutes saying thank you, thank you, over and over again to each person who has essentially made this kind of experience possible since the inception of SAWIP in 2007. But time is jealous, so I hope this thank you to our management team, our host parents, our board members, our supervisors and the friends of SAWIP really expresses our absolute gratitude to you

I believe that South Africans, just like anyone else, each have many different stories. At any given time I believe that we identify strongly with any one set of our experiences and influences. Over the last six weeks my SAWIP experience had repeatedly lead me back to the influence of one 'story' in particular.

A few years ago someone very special to me left this world. When she did, she left behind a book with one 'story' written inside. According to this story, I was born in Cape Town and at the time my parents lived in a small town just outside of the city called Darling where my mother founded and ran the local SPCA (an animal shelter) which had originally been an abattoir.

I celebrated my second birthday on a small fruit farm even deeper into the countryside where I lived very happily in an old cottage with my mother who had founded another organization in that area. This time she gave her energy to raped and abused women and children from as far out in the countryside as she could reach. She once explained to me what motivated her work by saying the following :

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

This is a poem by Emily Dickenson, but it was retold and lived by mother so consistently that it provided me at a very young age with an understanding of the only kind of leadership that I would like to aspire to. Yet I dont think she would have ever called herself 'a leader'; her deeds are not recorded in any history books, nor is she revered in any museums and she she certainly never told any speeches on a platform like this. But, she experienced true empathy for the suffering of every being. She felt a responsibility towards humanity and she made this the focus of her life.

She left that book behind for me with many empty pages so that I could fill them myself. I have tried ever since to live a story that I would like to her to know. A very big part of that story, has been my SAWIP experience thus far and what I have learnt about my commitment to people.

So if I could, today I would have told her that the lessons that she started teaching me have been continued by the team of young people here with me tonight who have inspired me to demand more from myself and others for our country; who have taught me that you do not have to be the loudest person in the room for your voice to touch an entire congregation of people; who have reminded me of the value of asking questions, but also of listening (to everyone); who have taught me that you do not ever have to be confined to who other people understand you to be and who have inspired me to reach for a greater sense of selflessness, courage, humility, responsibility and kindness.

So what I hold true to at the closing of this SAWIP chapter, and what defines the work that I am so ready to do in South Africa, is my responsibility unto PEOPLE, individuals, before systems or institutions

Today South Africa matters to me because it is a collection of people, many of whom suffer for different reasons: conflict, inequality, resource scarcity, poverty, violence, discrimination, poor healthcare, poor education, poor leadership and of whom more will suffer if we do not do something about it, if I do not do something about it.

This team of young people matter, because we exist as a small representation of South Africans that are different, that are critical, that argue, but that essentially now have a united value system to which we hold each other accountable and to which we hold the rest of the world accountable. I grateful to SAWIP for all of this. I am exceptionally proud of my team-mates for everything that we are and so, it is to them who I owe my greatest thanks. "

For me, the most difficult aspect of being back in South Africa has been re-adjusting to familiar, everyday routines and experiences that, in comparison to the SAWIP routine in, and experience of, Washington, D.C., seem uninspiring and far-removed from my aspirations and passions. I feel less inspired by, and discontent with, the status-quo of my familiar, everyday life.

This is not the first time that I have had to re-adjust to being back in South Africa after having been abroad, but this time is different and more difficult. Being in Washington, D.C., on SAWIP, broadened my perspective with regards to life’s ‘reality’, possibilities, and opportunities. As I mentioned in my previous blog post, every day was an exciting adventure filled with numerous possibilities.

Two of the recurring themes of the SAWIP Washington, D.C. experience were: “Pursue what you are passionate about (and success will follow)” and “Do not limit yourself (aka, take risks)”. Being in Washington, D.C., on SAWIP, encouraged me to imagine without restrictions, whereas being back in my familiar, everyday life (as it currently is) stifles that creative energy (at least that is what it feels like at the moment).

Yet even in this SAWIP is contributing to my personal growth. This re-adjusting period is forcing me to think deeply about the familiar, everyday life that I want to create for myself. I recognise that most days of my life have been, and will be, the familiar, everyday ones (and not the Washington, D.C. ones, which are a break from the familiar and everyday).

My challenge is to ensure that my familiar, everyday life is something that inspires me. My challenge is to ensure that my familiar, everyday life encourages and promotes imagining without restrictions. My challenge is to ensure that in my familiar, everyday life, I pursue what I am passionate about. My challenge is to ensure that in my familiar, everyday life, I take risks.

As I incorporate this growth (i.e. what I have learnt, and what I am learning), in my life, I am confident that the spring of my discontent will soon become the winter of my discontent.

We landed in South Africa on the 21st of July. I was very excited to return home because as amazing as Washington DC is, the longer I was there, the more I fell in love with South Africa and her people.

The first thing I felt when we hit SA soil was the cold winter. I wanted to cry right there and then because I actually enjoyed the Washington DC heat!

Since returning to SA, I can’t help but feel different: I don’t think the same way; I don’t speak the same way anymore – I yearn to engage in deep meaningful conversations all the time; I am not afraid to engage with strangers either; my vocabulary seems to be complicated even when I am just chatting casually with friends.

I am a tad bit frustrated by the way things seem to move slower here. I feel like I should be doing more because I am not as busy as I was in DC. My day to day routine feels mundane and not as stimulating as my days in the USA. I crave the inspiration that the hustle and bustle of DC gave me. I miss having to do different things each day and being exposed to a vast array of information. I suppose I could say my DC experience was like a drug and now I am having a very difficult withdrawal period.

I am sad because when I tell people how DC was, a short conversation is just not enough to explain the change that the SAWIP DC component has effected upon me. Sometimes I don’t know what to say because there’s so much to share. Sometimes I know that what I am saying when I share my experience won’t be received by others exactly in the way that I would want them to understand it.

I am scared that I might forget some of the lessons I have learnt because the environment I am currently in does not allow me to practice them all. I wish I could place everything I learned in a capsule so I can be able to draw from that capsule every day and apply those lessons daily for the rest of my life.

I feel like my team and I are a bunch of aliens now who have come back with the mission to be the difference. We all understand each other because of this shared experience, but we are going to seem different because of what we’ve been through.

My friends ask me, “So do you feel ready to change the world now?” To be honest, I feel under so much pressure to do something big since I HAVE JUST EXPERIENCED SOMETHING BIG. I do believe that I shall achieve GREAT THINGS in due time, but I’ll definitely take it one day at a time.

I could honestly write a book about my DC experience. It was a whirlwind of challenges, wonder, learning, exposure, sometimes frustration and discomfort, deepening intelligence and character, etc. More than anything else, however, my DC experience made me believe that all things are possible. Though it may take time, sacrifice, pain, doubt, fear, and frustration, we CAN change the world!

There is no one single South African Story. To imply that, undermines our diversity and the individual ways people interact with their circumstances and their communities. One of the reasons I say this is because for the longest time I didn’t think my story was relevant, standing next to other friends’ “South African Stories”

I am not white enough to have worked through the misplaced guilt some of my friends experienced in school, I am not black enough to have grown up with parents who carried Dom Passes and I definitely didn’t fetch water down the road and in true African style, carry the bucket on my head, can you imagine the long term damage to these curls?

In true South African fashion, the first place I went to in defining my story was race.

A while ago I began to feel a little overwhelmed with the idea of telling my story to a group of people. Not just because they would be strangers but rather because I didn’t know how I’d fit my story into a speech.

Firstly, you aren’t strangers. I look around here and see people who have opened your home and your family to me, we have shared a meal, a glass of wine or two or three, had wonderful conversations, laughed and even gone out dancing. You are friends and family now.

Secondly, famed Nigerian writer Chimamanda Adiche reminded me of the dangers of a single story. The story I tell you here, will not be an all-encompassing tale of my life. At this point I have choices: I could tell you about my difficulties with identity, torn between one that defined my education and another that defined my family and the real story of how I became a good dancer – waltzing between these two lives that occupied this one body. I could talk to you about the difficulties in becoming comfortable with who I am and coming out as a gay man in South Africa, though that one may be a misrepresentation of the adversities people face in their journey to portray their authentic self.

Tonight, I will tell you about my house. If you’ve been to Cape Town, you probably didn’t visit my area, it’s not a tourist attraction and the only way I can explain where it is to Capetonians from the nicer side of the railway lines, is by telling them it’s on the way to Mzoli’s Tshisi nyama, their favourite cultural dining experience in the township

I grew up in Vanguard Estate in Athlone, on the cape flats

After being forcibly removed from District Six by the apartheid government, my mother’s family moved a couple of times until my grandfather was able to secure this house. District Six was an area just off Central Cape Town that was mixed area. After the group areas act, the government forcibly moved everyone to other areas and demolished their homes. If you go on the District Six tour in Cape Town, that church in the center of CPUT campus, St Marks, is where my grandmother was baptised and later married my grandfather. I think there’s an admin building now where their house used to be.

My parents moved in after getting married, renovating and expanding the house. It used to be painted bright blue, I think my dad was trying to emulate some misplaced identification with the colour scheme of the Bo Kaap, a historically Cape Malay area with characteristically brightly colored homes. Our house became a bright blue landmark people used when giving directions down the Klipfontein main road.

When I refused to sleep as a baby, my parents would take it in turns to walk me around the house and take me to the windows facing the street and the passing headlights of the cars would always calm me.

I'm supposed to be part of the post-conflict generation but as young as I was, looking out of those same windows I remember seeing the bright yellow police combat vehicles or caspers, driving in to disperse crowds in Gugulethu, I remember the protestors marching past my house: crowds and the songs. I remember when the smell of teargas wafted into our home from the commotion on the street. I understand the events intellectually in retrospect but in that moment as a young child, all I had was what it felt like.

I remember walking down to the Community Center on a really hot day with my family, being really confused as to why we weren’t using the car. I was 5 at the time. We stood in lines for a REALLY long time. Everywhere we went, people were happy. For the next few days, I couldn’t understand why my dad wouldn’t let me change the TV channel so I could watch cartoons. How could I understand that my entire household was glued to the TV waiting for the election results. It was 1994.

I find myself doing a lot more of the re-evaluating retrospective work on memories that I was unable to contextualise at the time. Through the processes of some of our SAWIP conversations, I have found new meanings. My SAWIP team has become a family. We have had many opportunities to share stories, experiences and discuss issues with which we have had particular experiences. In the same way that I was able to understand the events of my early childhood as I grew up, I've been able to contextualise world events and my interactions with people in a deeper more meaningful manner.

Quite a lot of that growth has happened as a result of some conversations with Patti and Jon. For one, they've developed my understanding of child rearing. If I end up being half as good as they are at raising Sam, I'll be happy. I can tell we will be friends for a long time to come. I walked into your home, a stranger with whom you'd exchanged a few emails, I leave knowing I will be sharing memories with you in the future. I am so excited to see Sam grow up. I have no doubt each of my team mates have also forged unique relationships with their host parents, don't be surprised to receive those "America-homesick" emails in a few weeks.

I am inspired by this team of South Africans every day, resolute in our common goal of nation building. Each of us passionate about different things but supporting eachother in anyway we can. A new generation of South Africans whose mandate it is to move our nation forward together to a society that will one day truly be unified in our diversity and not divided for equality.

South Africans who know that the country we will grow old in and that our children will grow up in will be of our design. A country of millions of stories, working together and helping eachother. The power is ours. Amandla! Ngawethu!

Good evening. I know I speak on behalf of all my friends and teammates when I thank you for being here tonight to celebrate the culmination of our time with SAWIP in Washington. My name is Matthew Chennells and tomorrow we leave to fly back to South Africa.

Although my experience in DC has been like no other, the thought of being home fills me with a deep happiness.

I had a magical upbringing in which I got to develop my academics, sport, relationships, and sense of community at my own pace. My parents allowed me to push myself and were always the best example of who I wanted to be. I watched the way they interacted with people: they instilled in me the idea of mutual respect for others, that no matter what someone’s background there is always something they are able to teach you and that you should treat all persons with dignity. They ingrained in me concepts of fairness and reason. I have one younger brother and nothing specific was ever said to either of us by my parents, we were never sat down and taught lessons; they simply acted and we subconsciously absorbed it all.

When I was young I wanted to be a film director, a radio host, an author, a professional scuba-diver, a maker of fine wines. I studied a business degree, dived into numbers and strategy, and found that as I got older these dreams I had became devolved of childish abandon. And instead of changing my dreams I simply let them fall by the wayside. This is, I think, one of our biggest failings; not that we may give up on our dreams but that we forget to adapt them as we grow.

There is a Chinese proverb that states that you can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore. It is only by pushing ourselves outside our comfort zones that we adapt our dreams to the realities that we face, that we turn fuzzy ideals into lives that provide us with happiness and meaning. And it is through exploring our world that we create experiences that shape us.

When I finished my undergraduate degree at university I embraced the opportunity to travel. I needed to find my identity on my continent as an African and I needed to give myself space to think about my future role in South Africa. I worked to earn money and then set off on a bicycle and cycled from London to Cape Town, moving through Europe, parts of the Middle East and Africa. I spent 17 months on the road, living out of bags, often relying on the kindness of strangers for directions, food and shelter. I learnt to be free, to be independent, to be patient with myself, and to take responsibility for every single action I took. I learned about the humbleness of people, about dedication and dealing with adversity, about friendship.

Two events in particular stand out for me as moments leading towards understanding what I now regard as important. The first was in Egypt in November of 2011, the same year that the country underwent revolution. We had visited Tahrir square, witnessed violent mobs and been harassed by gangs of young men. We were staying not far from where protests were underway. It was also Christmas time, a day at my home in South Africa that is filled with family, friends, calm and happiness. Alone in my room, in a foreign country undergoing violent transition and which doesn’t celebrate the holiday, I spoke to my parents, hearing all the time laughter in the background, practically able to smell the braai (the barbeque) through the phone. I felt alone and realized how often I took for granted certain people in my life.

My second story comes from Rwanda, later in the trip. I volunteered at a school for a month and even in such a short time I developed a strong attachment to some of the children there. But I had to leave; when our time there ended and we moved on, I simply packed up my things and cycled out of the gate. I said goodbye to the teachers, to the kids who came to wave goodbye not knowing that I was going for good. One of the older boys, about 13 years old, he knew. He helped push my bike to the gate, helped me open it. Stronger than me, he held back his tears as I cried. I remember cycling out of the city into the countryside with this boy’s strength infusing into me, with this realization that children are children no matter where they are in the world. There is a universal humanity that we all subscribe to in one way or another, and that even if we can create lasting bonds with a few individuals then we can make a difference.

These two lessons I have learnt: the need to actively think about who and what is important to me, and understanding the common ties that we have between us, is what drives me now.

I lived with a man who is not here today and who comes from a background completely different to myself. My favourite time of my day was the 20 min walk we used to take together to the metro station, time to just talk and learn to laugh at ourselves again. These two lessons I learnt he valued as well, but having arrived at from a completely different route. Our conversations were part of this SAWIP process that is teaching me that we are so much more than our race, our individual cultures, and our nationalities.

Benjamin Franklin said: “Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn.”

SAWIP does this. It completely immerses us in experiences wider than those we would have got at home and does it with all of us here together. Whether or not we agree with each other, exploring together gives us a shared sense of purpose and engraves into us a sense of duty. I lived with a man from as different a background. Our challenge now is to take our dreams and the knowledge that we have acquired and making them useful in our communities.

We gather here and it’s the first time since I arrived home from travelling that I am able to indulge my rekindled desire to dream. We are different but we have created a family here; a cynical, intense, ambitious and difficult group of individuals. I feel at home with these people that I have known for only a few months and although we irritate each other sometimes and have our differences, I will miss them. I love being here, questioning everything and demanding answers, knowing that we do this because we have a shared dream for our future. And it is precisely because we ask tough questions with no easy answers that these dreams are beautiful. They are beautiful because they question what we currently think of as normal. And they are beautiful because we are in this together.

I was disorientated for about 4 days. I apparently kept waking up in the middle of the night asking of the rest of the group were following; but can you blame me? After six weeks with the group the herd mentality really starts to kick in. I keep wanting to take my passport with me wherever I go; it feels strange not having that little convenient flip phone with me all of the time. It took me about half a day to realise that I could now use my smartphone outside of Wi-Fi areas. I don’t know how I feel about not having the weekly program mapped out for me. These are all just the simple things. How long until you start questioning the larger things, the different ways of life, the conflicting institutional philosophies?

Everyone keeps asking how the trip was, as if there is a short answer which will live up to their expectations. There are a plethora of things which I could say at that moment, none of which will necessarily satisfy their curiosity or do justice to the grandeur of the experience. Sure the experience was fantastic, and yes I would do it again (who would not?); but there are elements of the experience which are nearly impossible to convey.

I saw things which I would never have had the opportunity to experience and I grew in ways which were not possible before. There is no one moment, or lesson which I learned from going to Washington. Rather it is the culmination of several moments, experiences, lessons, sights, smells, observations, conversations and thoughts which will fundamentally change who I will become one day. If you were to ask me in which way, I would be unable to tell you.

I do not know where my life was heading before SAWIP, or where I will one day go. I do however believe that this change which I have noticed will be for the better. I have a renewed sense of hope and patriotism for South Africa. This of course is not enough. The willingness to serve goes a long way but it is not complete without the ability to do so. As I understand SAWIP seeks to create real change agents who will one day influence the course of communities, peoples and even the nation. For this type of change we need the SAWIP Alumni to be equipped with the ability to do so, and this is precisely what the DC leg of the trip aims to achieve.

Even if I never used any of the umpteen business cards which I picked up in Washington, the networking, not the cards, was the valuable part. I will (probably) never work at C-SPAN, yet working 9 to 5 in a professional environment influenced what I think I would want to do one day. The US president Dwight Eisenhower, who was responsible for planning the invasion of France and Germany while still a general in the Second World War is famously quoted as saying: “In preparing for battle, I have always found that plans are useless but planning is indispensable”. While the trip to DC is in itself invaluable it is rather what you take from it that will one day make the difference.

Being back in South Africa feels rather surreal. I feel like we landed at Dulles International Airport in Washington, D.C just a few days ago. I feel like that magical Friday evening when we walked and ran in the rain en route to Times Square happened just yesterday. I can almost still feel the rain falling on me. It feels like not very long ago that I accidentally dropped my phone down a storm drain (Brennen was only kidding about me throwing my phone away, Sibahle Magadla). It was just a few days ago that I was navigating D.C.’s metro system. It was just a few days ago that I was interacting with, and learning from, my friends on the Washington Ireland Program (WIP) and New Story Leadership (NSL). It was just last week that I was hanging out with my SAWIP team-mates. Just last week I was interning at the World Bank. It was only 4 days ago that I watched the sunrise from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. How quickly time has passed!

While in the USA, I made a concerted effort to appreciate and be fully present in every moment. I lived each of the 39 days (12 June – 20 July) we spent in the USA with a sense of awe and disbelief that what was happening was actually happening. Every day was a thrilling adventure that held great promise, and I did my best to make the most of it. I would often say (to Lwamba Chisaka’s great annoyance): “Can we just take a moment to appreciate that we are in Washington, D.C.?” (Lwamba’s response was: “If you have to take a moment to appreciate the moment, then you are not living in the moment.”)

Now that we are back in South Africa, I am finding it difficult to #stayinthemoment the way I managed to do while in the USA. Now that I have returned to my ‘normal’, everyday life, I am finding it difficult to view each day as a thrilling adventure. Yet I recognise that if my D.C. experience is to have any relevance post-D.C., then I must apply the lessons that I learned, and adopt the attitude that I adopted, in D.C., in my ‘normal’, everyday life in South Africa. Just as I chose to appreciate and be fully present in every moment in D.C., so I must now choose to appreciate and be fully present in every moment in South Africa.

The truth is that every day in South Africa is a thrilling adventure that holds great promise. South Africa is an exciting place to be because its challenges provide numerous opportunities to make a difference and to make things better.

SAWIP does not end after the D.C. experience. The D.C. experience has better-equipped us to be and effect the change we wish to see in South Africa.

The following is a speech that was given at the SAWIP 2013 Farewell Reception at Hogan Lovells on July 19 2013.

Two score years ago in this very city not far from where we’re gathered this evening, thousands gathered from every corner of this vast nation as a show of solidarity with the struggle for civil rights. Six weeks ago, in this very city I received an email. It was from the SAWIP management team. “We would like you to speak on your South African story, SAWIP journey and take away lessons from the DC experience.” Like many young South Africans my South African story is a sticky point – what is my South African story? Will it be what people want to hear? Should I add some spice and divulge intimate experiences for the sake of dramatic effect? Unlike Elroy, I didn’t study drama and for both your sake and mine I will refrain from doing my Halle Berry impersonation this evening.

My name is Lwamba Chisaka. I was born in Swaziland and raised in South Africa by Zambian parents. I could speak about how my life has been different and about how my story is not the typical South African story. But I would be lying. For the truth is there is no typical South African story. The experiences of a diverse nation such as ours cannot be summarized, typified or simplistically conveyed in a matter of minutes. My roommate for the summer was Rachel: a feisty, Irish, gal on the Washington Ireland Program (WIP). In one exchange she was able to summarize the conflict in Ireland. On numerous occasions throughout our stay at the Schwartz’s she would turn to me and say, “I still don’t know what the South African conflict is!” Other members of the WIP class would say, “I still don’t know what the South African accent is!” The truth is, at least my truth is the South African identity is our conflict.

“It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” I had always thought this but it’s hard to keep the faith that you are not defined by irrelevant characteristics when you reside in small college campuses and small towns such as the ones I was raised in, and even more so the one I attend college in today. In the United States people ask what my name is. Then, they ask where I am from. And then, depending on who they are they ask either what my interest area is or what my pet giraffe looks like. The point is they don’t ask me, like most people in South Africa do, where I’m really from. My identity as a South African is not questioned. Neither is my identity tied to my nationality at all. In DC it has been incredibly refreshing to witness for the first time what I always knew in my heart to be true: it is possible to make connections with people based only on your shared interests. I have appreciated conversations and had more in common with people the world might superficially consider my opposite.

The experience of South Africa and the United States are much the same and during my time here I have found myself constantly comparing the two. On the issue of national identity I think the 20-something South Africa could take some notes from old Uncle Sam. Two moments that stand out for me during my summer in DC are the singing of 'The Star Spangled Banner’ at the Washington Nationals baseball game and the 4^th July Fireworks. On both occasions I found myself inspired and even a little jealous of the unity of this nation. I was taken aback by how power a national identity can be. Powerful enough to make me (an emotional island as was recently remarked by a team mate) get butterflies in my stomach, goose bumps on my arms and tears in my eyes. Should South Africa work toward this? How does South Africa work toward this? These are questions I will take back with me. I believe that in many ways it is out of this shared identity that a culture of service and leadership flows, a culture exemplified by the SAWIP organization. I have a dream that our nation will rise up as well, and live out the true meaning of its creed – united in diversity.

It would be impossible for me to sit down without making explicit reference to the events that happened 50 years ago. As far as speech titles go, ‘I have A Dream’ is rather misleading. It makes it easy to remember the speech as a passive description of hopes and dreams for a country when in fact it was a call to action, a reminder of the gap between reality and ideals. On the fierce urgency of now Dr King said, “this is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.” I say this to you my team mates and friends, to you who feel as though your time and the baton have passed, to you who are satisfied you are doing enough and those of you who like me, are not satisfied you are doing enough: “This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.”

If we are to continue the legacy of our founding father Nelson Mandela, we have to recognize the responsibility we have to build our nation. 1994 was not the end, it was the beginning. Institutionalized discrimination is not over as long as children attend mud schools, and the illiterate don’t have access to courts and young people are not given the opportunity to get or create employment, and it is certainly not over as long as achieving the good life comes down to luck, location or money. Institutionalized discrimination is alive and well and it is for us to dream big as Martin Luther King Jr. Did. It is for us to make the correct and tough decisions as Lincoln did. It is for us to never lose faith in the political system upon which our democracy is built as President Obama has. “It would be fatal,” Mr King said, “for our nation to overlook the urgency of now.”

SAWIP has created within me a heightened sense of urgency to pursue solutions our country and continent need so badly. I am deeply grateful to SAWIP for the opportunity it has afforded me to think about and explore these issues. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I Have a Dream - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smEqnnklfYs

In all the places of the world.

Washington and it's beauty

New York and it's splendour.

In all the kingdoms of the world,

there is no place I would rather call home than Africa.

From the hills of Eastern South Africa,

through the miellie farms of Bloemfontien

to Stellenbosch and its vineyards.

There is no place I would rather call home.

From Dakar to Cape Town

I am moved by your beauty.

My ink runs dry describing your beauty.

there is no place I would rather call home.

Over Botswana and its diamonds

Johannesburg and its gold,

I am aware you are too rich to be poor,

you have enough for our needs not our greed.

My beloved Africa,

your wealth is not underground but on top of it.

Its not your gold,

its not your diamonds

its your children.

Glorious Rainbow Nation

come paint our world colorful.

Let the ground that nurtured me smile when I touch it.

In all the great Nations of the world

there is no place I `d rather call home than AFRICA.