What does it mean to trust?

A question that plagued our community engagement for 2014.

We had teamed up with an organisation on campus for our project and through them identified and decided to work with the ‘Siyanqoba feeding scheme’, located in Olievenhoutbosch. Our first planning session took place whilst in the US and was filled with excitement as we what we had envisioned would significantly impact the Siyanqoba feeding scheme. We wanted to run leadership and life skills workshops with senior high school children who ate at the centre. More than that, we hoped to expose them to the tertiary education section by taking them to the University of Pretoria for a day and running short courses on computer literacy and academic funding.

The information upon which we based our original plan was flawed and there were basically no senior high school students at the centre with whom we could work. But more importantly, what we had planned could not have accounted for the disconnect that existed between Mama Lizzy, the lady running Siyanqoba, and her willingness to work with outsiders.

This disconnect is imputed to the trust that Mama Lizzy lost, due to numerous disappointments of ‘good-willed’ people not delivering on their promises.

As a result of this many of our plans did not materialize. Each week we found ourselves making amendments to our ideas in order to best suit Mama Lizzy and in an attempt to earn her trust.

Upon arrival at Siyanqoba, for the first of our three interventions, we discovered that Mama Lizzy’s small house and even smaller courtyard acted as a make-shift feeding centre, play area and shelter over the weekends for children from abusive homes. More than anything, our arrival was slightly awkward… (and not just for me), we had no idea what to expect and no idea what Mama Lizzy wanted or needed from us. To our surprise, fifty children arrived as we did and we were welcomed by songs, poems and gum-boot dances which had obviously been prepared and practiced far in advance.

In an attempt to show Mama Lizzy our commitment to making a difference to the children and earn her trust, we spent the morning playing various games with them on a piece of land across the road from Siyanqoba. All of our fears of time dragging along while we stood around unsure of what to do next melted away as the hours flew by, with the team enjoying the games nearly as much as the children did. On a personal level, every member of the team learnt or achieved something that day: I conquered my fear of small children (even letting them braid my hair so enthusiastically that I fell over), Erwyn learnt of his need to manage his competitiveness upon kicking a soccer ball into the one of the boy’s heads and Nolo learnt that if this whole economics thing doesn’t work out, he has a future in cheerleading to fall back on.

While the first day was fun, we realised that our next visit would require far more organisation and structure if we wanted to really impress upon Mama Lizzy the seriousness of our investment in her organisation. As such, we arrived at Siyanqoba two weeks later armed with food which was kindly sponsored by the cafes and shops on campus and a list of games to play with the children. After a morning of water balloon fights and more of Nolo’s ridiculous war cries we left Olievenhoutbosch knowing that a great day had been had by all but concerned by the state of the play area that the children used. The land across the road from Mama Lizzy’s house is usually used as a dumping area by the nearby small business owners, the floor is littered with glass, dead rats and fires still simmering from the night before. The area which provided the children of Siyanqoba with so much joy is anything but child-friendly.

It was because of this dangerous environment that the idea of a clean-up drive was born. We want the entire community to get involved in this project and turn it into a competition with prizes for the person or team who clean up the largest area in order make the children more enthusiastic about the drive. Coupled with this would be an educational element about why it is “cool” to keep the area clean. Following this we have organised a fun day with jumping castles, food and music for the children who participated. You may have noticed that all of this is in future tense. We have yet to complete our community service project, despite meeting every Saturday for six weeks to plan and visit the site. Mama Lizzy has been unavailable to meet us for the past three weeks, it has however been confirmed that this day will happen on the 18^th of October.

More excitingly, we have plans to implement our original idea of doing leadership development at a high school in Olievenhoutbosch in early February next, maintaining the presence of SAWIP in the area.

Despite all the ups and downs there were a great many lessons learnt through our community engagement.

Firstly, it’s probably best NOT to have your first planning session in another country.

Secondly, we must be weary when teaming up with another outside organization. It creates additional dynamics that need to be accounted for and in many instances can be counterproductive.

The third lesson we learnt can best be described in the words of Thomas Carlyle:

‘Endurance is patience concentrated’

I imagine a bottle of OROS juice as this endurance that we required

Each week we needed a little bit of patience–concentrate to be poured out for us to endure the challenges and the constant change of plans.

It could have been so easy for us to walk away and start afresh, but that would not be servant leadership. We have endured the best and worst of times and now we look forward to the 18^th of October to see through our final intervention and ensure that the Olievenhoutbosch area is all the cleaner and safer for it.

In a previous blog I expressed the hope that SAWIP would give me direction in my life. Now, having spent 5 weeks in Washington DC reflecting on my options, I face the opposite dilemma. I touched down on South African soil rejuvenated and motivated, with a clear idea of what I wanted to do and the kind of difference I wanted to make. I felt changed, I felt like I had grown – shed some of the shyness and irrational fears of authority which have held me back for years – but everything here is exactly as I left it. In DC the team often used the phrase ‘nothing was the same’ to describe how our time there influenced us. Sadly though, the only phrase which comes to mind when looking around me now that I am home is, ‘nothing ever changes.’

The same people are complaining about tests in class or worrying out loud about how best to get jobs at top tier law firms. The day-to-day grind of buying textbooks and groceries and worrying about driver’s licenses persists, but now I feel out of place – I feel as if I should be doing more than simply worrying about the things I always have.

Our time in DC had its ups and downs and I think that I may have fallen into the trap of focussing on the negatives towards the end of our stay. Having had time to reflect though, I have treasured memories and friendships which I took away from my time there and have come to realise that my only real regrets are diary-regrets. The schedule was busy and I wish I had made time to write down what I thinking and feeling at the end of each day. There are many moments that I would love to blog about, such as our discussion on race with Sonya Woods, or my interactions with a social worker on the bus to Anacostia, but I feel that I just can’t do them justice now. Looking back, I can’t capture the true feeling of rapture or awe, I only have the general lessons which will stay with me forever, I think, but which are far less poetic without the emotional details.

Now that I am back at varsity, people constantly ask me how my holiday in America was. I don’t have the energy to explain that it wasn’t a holiday but rather a learning experience and have simply designed a standard answer: ‘it was busy but awesome! I learnt a lot.’ Maybe it is arrogant of me to think that people won’t understand how profound the experience was, if they weren’t there to feel it themselves. All I know is that I have no desire to tell people on campus the ins and outs of my time in DC but whenever I see a SAWIPer or chat with them over whatsapp, it is all I want to speak about.

I have returned from DC armed with the lessons I learnt from wonderful interactions with session coordinators, the team and my host family. It is true that in our time away very little back home changed and this makes us feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it is a good thing that we aren’t telling people our SAWIP stories and explaining our inside jokes to them. It means that we have realised that our discomfort won’t be cured by sharing, it will only cured by putting all of the lessons we learnt into action and actually making a difference in our communities to ensure that something does change and that it changes for the better.

It is exactly 7894 miles from Pretoria to Washington DC. It is 7894 miles from DC to the house where I grew up. It’s 7894 miles from DC to my family and my support system.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Brynne Guthrie and I have had the privilege of spending the last 5 weeks living with Tim and Kathie Lynch in Chevy Chase.

Through SAWIP we champion South Africa, our universities, and most importantly, our families and family stories which have made us who we are today. Our family stories are tales in 2 parts - the first part being the nurturing and upbringing which delivered us to this place where being selected for SAWIP has become a reality. The second part of the story is a tale of the families who open their homes and their hearts in order to support us through the DC leg of this journey.

The 18 members of this team all come from very different backgrounds and I hope that you have had the opportunity to hear the inspirational stories that they all have to tell. My story is about the strongest woman I have ever known – my mother. My mother was a qualified teacher but opted to stay at home to look after my brother and me when we were young. However, when my parents got divorced in 2004, she was forced to work three separate jobs to ensure that my brother and I could keep our comfortable lives in the suburbs and the house, which sentimentally my mother grew up in, which was far beyond our financial means. You can ask any member of the SAWIP team – I am the resident feminist and because of this journey, I have decided to dedicate my life to the protection of womans rights. The fire in the me which created this passion comes solely from watching my mother conquer every obstacle the men in her life built in front of her.

I’ve come to view my house as a safe haven and so, as we enter the second part of the family story, we must emphasise the magnitude of the service that the SAWIP host families perform. My host parents hosted someone very close to me last year and so before even meeting them, it felt as if I knew them. Upon meeting them, I realised that the Lynches are even friendlier, kinder and more interesting that I expected. During the first week of my stay in DC I spent a night in hospital and the Lynches reacted not like host parents to a stranger but instead like biological parents with an understanding of how terrifying hospital can be. Couple this with the insights that our late night conversations have given me, my host family has brought a personal side to this experience that would have been impossible to get elsewhere.

SAWIP brings together young people from all socio-economic groups, races and cultures. It then requires us to work as a team for the development of our community and nation, as a whole. This team is made up of future leaders - all with different talents and visions, who may never have met if it weren’t for this program and together, and together we have the potential to do great things. Our journey to realise this potential is not always smooth sailing. In times of tension or tiredness, it is important to have somewhere quiet, comfortable and supportive to go. As our host families, you have provided us with that space, but more than that, you’ve given us plenty of laughs, love and access to perspectives which are pivotal to our growth and success.

Our backgrounds cultivated the drive that brought us to SAWIP but you,

our host families have made the DC part of this adventure something that we will treasure and remember for the rest of our lives. I speak on behalf of the team when I say that our only regret is that we could not spend more time with all of you. I know that we will keep in touch, I know that some of our paths will cross again but until they do, we thank you – we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

It’s exactly 7894 miles my house in Pretoria to Washington DC. It’s 7894 miles from Pretoria to the place where memories and friendships were born. It’s 7894 miles from Pretoria to Chevy Chase – the place where the people who have been my second family live.

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands…” These words rang out across my suburban neighbourhood on Friday the 4^th of July, as the residents of Chevy Chase gathered to celebrate their nation’s independence. It is traditional for the 4^th of July parade to start at my host parents’ house and the whole affair was about as stereotypically American as I could have hoped. The fire truck leads the procession and all of the children ride bicycles behind it, dressed in the customary red, white and blue. The crowd was led in a chorus or two of America the Beautiful before passionately belting out the national anthem. Couple this micro experience with the fireworks display at the National Mall and I can safely say that I never imagined that patriotism like this existed.

The Declaration of Independence, which we had the privilege of seeing at the National Archives, was signed more than 230 years ago and yet the nation celebrates its signing with unbounded enthusiasm every year. South Africa gained its freedom just 20 years ago and yet, the 27^th of April is embraced because it is a public holiday – a day away from work – (by many at least) rather than because it is one of the most important days in our young nation’s history. There are no fireworks displays – to be fair fireworks are illegal – and the celebrations at the Union Buildings go largely unadvertised. There are so many wonderful things about South Africa and 27 April seems like the perfect opportunity to hail them.

There are many arguments against patriotism – especially the kind practiced by America. People blame it for the massive numbers of young military recruits and for giving the government the political capital necessary to start numerous wars. I believe, however, that South Africa would do well to try and instill a little more patriotism into its people. In a state that has numerous problems between social groups, any unifying force has to transcend race, class and gender. The idea of belonging to a particular nation is one that, if used correctly, could be inclusive because it focuses on heritage rather than what you look like or what belief system you hold. Initiatives such as ‘Proudly South African’ are going a long way to promote the South African national identity and a feeling of patriotism could be the key to greater reconciliation in our society. Just look at how people united behind the Springboks in 1995, or how we, as a nation joined in pride and excitement, welcomed the world to South Africa in 2010, or how we mourned the loss of our beloved Madiba together. All of these are moments in our country’s history that brought people together and embodied the idealism that our Constitution or the TRC tried to promote.

Politics is all about striking a balance, and I don’t think that South Africa should go so far as to mandate that all people must pledge allegiance to the flag. I do think, however, that we need to latch onto the moments in our history that have brought us together as one, united nation and celebrate them with as much fervor, enthusiasm and passion as we can muster.

I guess that it’s ironic that my last blog was about uncomfortable shoes because this one is about the hospital trip which was a result thereof. On Monday evening I ‘visited’ George Washington University Hospital (I use the inverted commas because I usually associate visits to places fun things such as tea drinking) for a not-so-routine check up to make sure that I didn’t have a blood clot. I don’t, by the way. Upon arrival and hearing that I had travelled through Dubai to get to DC, the nurse proceeded to fit me with a surgical mask to ensure that I didn’t spread any exotic diseases that I may or may not have picked up in my brief transit time. This was a less than pleasant way to spend four hours in the waiting room, but the observations I made from behind the mask make for great blog material.

For the last 21 years I have been fortunate enough to have access to private hospitals and so this was my first trip to an academic facility. In South Africa we hear horror stories about damaged or non-existent medical infrastructure so I must point out that this academic hospital was fairly impressive. The hospital was busy though, and as I said, we waited for a long time before being helped. I was only discharged the following morning, in fact. The thing that struck me, however, was how willingly and quietly the people in the waiting room sat in line to be helped. Obviously, this is done out of necessity as this is the only medical care of them will receive but this reaction stands in stark contrast to the overwhelming perception I have had of Americans so far. That perception is that people here are always in a hurry. Standout examples for me are the fact that people stand aside on escalators for people who wish to walk up or down them. That seems unthinkably unnecessary to most South Africans – I mean, the stairs move for you! The second example occurs whenever you choose to chance crossing the street while the pedestrian sign is nearing the end of its countdown. As soon as the light goes green for the cars, the hooters blast in your direction and you’re forced to run across the rest of the street in a terribly undignified manner. It was because of things like this that the patience of the majority of the patients was surprising to me.

The waiting room was a mixing of cultures and socio-economic groups. It seemed to be made up of everyone from homeless people to men in expensive suits. All of whom were united by their panicked looks each time I coughed from behind my surgical mask. What particularly struck me was that people don’t speak to one another. At one point during the evening, there was a small child walking around talking to patients while her parents slept in their chairs nearby. Each and every person she tried to speak to ignored her flat-out. It was odd considering how involved South Africans tend to become in lives of those around them – even in microcosms such as hospital waiting rooms.

I read somewhere that you only really know a country when you have visited one of their hospitals (ok, so the actual quote may say prisons but I think I have artistic license). My little visit was scary but it solidified a lesson that I have been learning ever since we arrived in DC. The short and the long is that no matter what the media says no country is perfect. Every nation has its problems but most importantly, we have our own unique ways of dealing with them. So while in public hospitals long waits are often met with anger, the Americans choose to be patient and while South Africans thrive in a community setting, Americans are individuals. Recognising these differences helps us to recognize the things we can borrow from other cultures but also the things we should celebrate about our own.

When the SAWIP team managers told us to wear comfortable shoes I didn't quite comprehend the importance of their recommendation. After only four days in Washington DC I think that I have walked more than ever before in my life. With feet still slightly swollen from the flight, the walks to and from the Metro have been somewhat painful. I think, however, that this discomfort could be construed in a positive light as a metaphor for the experience in which we are partaking. On Friday in our joint session with the WIP/NSL students, the facilitator Paddy explained that a little anxiety or discomfort pushes us to be the best versions of ourselves - perhaps my feet are just one example of this discomfort that I will encounter during my stay in DC.

On a very superficial level, the pain in my feet motivates me to walk faster, motivates me to get from wherever I am to my next destination, ensuring that I can sit down and forget about the pain for a little while. Less obviously though, I think that the SAWIPers are dealing with the discomfort of being in a completely foreign environment, thrown in at the deep end and expected to find out own ways. This discomfort, as Paddy described it, is vital for our personal development. Not just because discomfort builds character but also because it forces us to adapt and learn how to deal with different situations. In the past four days I have had highs and lows but situation was new and each situation challenged me to assess the way in which I handle myself and those around me.

The sessions that SAWIP facilitate force us to confront views and opinions of others, some of which stand in stark opposition to our own beliefs. The team has had its fair share of internal, playful arguments about politics and economics but when asked to collaborate with young people from Ireland and Israel/Palestine a different, more difficult variable is added. It is easy to have academic discussions about world issues but when we are faced with those who live through them everyday, you realise the value of holding your tongue and deferring to the superior, first hand understanding that they possess. Appreciating the limits of our global knowledge and being forced to check our arrogance at the door both cause discomfort but similarly, make us grow into humble ambassadors for change instead of single-minded dictators.

In the same way that my feet are blistered, the skin broken - so are my naive conceptions of the world and inter-personal relations. Walking isn't general considered a trying activity but the first few days in DC have shown me that even the most seemingly-normal things (such as catching a bus or riding the Metro) push us and challenge us. More than that though, this Program slowly but surely, just like the shoes rubbing against my heels, breaks through the misconceptions onto which we all hold and leaves room for new, fresh thoughts to grow. This growth erases the traces of the sores that it had to create in the process and leaves us better off than we were before.

[In keeping with the Football-mania sweeping the globe, I thought I would do a themed SAWIP blog.]

During the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, the phrase ‘Ke Nako’ was everywhere. Meaning ‘It is here’ I thought that it was a fairly apt phrase to describe this point in time. Not only are we four years on from the World Cup so these words have contextual significance but also, the UP SAWIPers are finally about to depart on their trip to Washington DC. That moment we have all been waiting for since March: it is here. I guess that our work exposure and the World Cup seem like two somewhat unrelated events, I believe, however, that they are similar at their cores.

The FIFA World Cup is a prestigious event which calls teams from all over the world to compete with one another. Following their teams come swarms of supporters all of whom immerse themselves in the culture of the host nation while, at the same time teaching others about their national heritage and backgrounds. While the main goal of the event is to find a winner, the principles of camaraderie and sportsmanship transcend this. If the 2010 World Cup is anything to go by, the mixing-pot of cultures and languages affects even those with no interest in football. The event is more than a sporting fixture – it is global networking opportunity, where the teams are ambassadors for their home countries and the fans are part of a large scale cultural education programme.

Compare this to our work exposure, teams of young people from South Africa, Ireland and Israel/Palestine travel to a common area to meet and interact. Moreover, DC during the summer is full of interns from all over the US and the world in general. While there is no element of competition, this program is an opportunity to learn about other cultures and values whilst teaching others about what it means to be South African. It is explicitly a networking opportunity. In our final SAWIP session with Edward Monster he said that he hoped that our time in DC would cultivate friendships that, in later life, would make international cooperation and negotiation easier and more civilised.

I think that the similarities between SAWIP and the World Cup go further though. Fans unite behind their home countries in the same way SAWIP unites young South Africans from all over the country. Moreover, people’s interest in the World Cup extends far beyond the few games their home country will play and they end up adopting second and third teams which they support. This unites people from all over behind a common goal (excuse the pun). In the same way, SAWIP gives us the opportunity to feel part of a family which is not our own.

In 2010 we were lucky enough to be part of the international coming-together of people for the World Cup. Now, we have the opportunity to network in a more formal, less vuvuzela-filled environment, but with the same ideas of ambassadorship and community in mind.

My professional bio says that I am ranked as the best university debater in the country, by the time we get back from Washington DC that won’t be true anymore. Every year the National University Debating Championship takes place in early July and this will be the first time in 4 years that I will not be attending. The debating community has been like a second family to me for a very long time and I think one of the most valuable things about family is how much you can learn from them – both good and bad. In the past few weeks the interactions between members of the debating community have taught me a massive lesson about dealing with conflict.

It started on Facebook with an argument about possible themes for socials to be held at the National tournament. The fantastic thing about the debating community is how diverse it is, but this also means that there is a massive divergence of ideas when arguments, such as this, arise. Feminists argued with Pan-Africanists and ‘liberals’ with conservatives - I found myself compelled by many of the perspectives – at least based on the academic merit of each of them. However, for the most part, very good arguments were reduced to personal attacks and sarcasm and what could have been a civilised conversation deteriorated into an ugly mud-slinging match. I started to think about what it is that compels people be disrespectful and came the conclusion that the detracted nature of arguments over the internet breeds an environment where people act with impunity and without regard for effect their hurtful words will have.

As I surveyed the proverbial smoke which rose off the Facebook-battlefield when the arguing had died down, I had an intense feeling of sorrow. Sorrow for the debating community at large, sorrow for the principles for which debating stands. It is meant to be a discipline which fosters engagement and discourse but I couldn’t help feeling that the flame-war had hampered the chances of any kind of camaraderie happening at Nationals. The tone that you choose to use when typing; the words you choose to use – profanity or otherwise; and manner in which you address your opponent in an argument effects their willingness to address your concerns and very definitely effects their decision to be friendly or civil towards you when you see each other in person. The argument may be over but there were no winners and no apologies. What remains instead, are the hurt feelings from name-calling and the understanding that some people are against you for no real reason.

It is easy to be mean when you only experience peoples’ reactions through a computer screen but those words last, saved not only on the cloud for all eternity but also in the memories of the people they were directed at or who saw them. Your internet persona plays as big a role as any other part of your personality when people decide whether they like you or not. Many of the issues raised in the argument on Facebook related to genuine problems such as sexism and racism in debating. When attempting to solve these problems or persuading people to agree with a resolution, likability is pivotal. I think that many debaters forgot this and the progress of the debating community as a whole will be harmed because of it. If I am honest, I think that all of the debaters could have done with Nigel Bailey’s session on balanced leadership and conflict resolution.

The stereotypical American suburb has white picket fences, flags mounted on the porches and bright-eyed children on tricycles living out their versions of the American Dream. When the SAWIP was selected in March many people asked me whether I was excited to go to DC. My answer was always the same; that there were far too many things that needed to be done before I could even think about that part of the program. But now, with the departure date drawing ever nearer, it finally feels real and the excitement is starting to build: soon I will experience ‘the American Dream’ for myself. All of the work placements are finalised, we’ve contacted our host families and this adventure starts in just a few short weeks. The WIP students arrived in DC today and their Facebook statuses made me think about what to expect from my 5 weeks State side.

The first thing I am expecting to find in DC is political consciousness. From what we have been told in our SAWIP sessions, the capital is full of people from all over the USA and other parts of the world who are based there for the express purpose of working or learning about American politics. It is understandable that this is the case considering the District’s history and the institutions which have taken headquarters there. I live in one of the capital cities of South Africa, I can see the Union Buildings from my house and in the same way the President’s residence is in DC; President Zuma is based in Pretoria, but I don’t feel that involvement in politics is a driving force in my city. I like where I live but I am very excited to immerse myself in a culture where people, young and old, are engaged and interested in national policy.

As the resident grammar-freak of the UP team, I am unsure how I am going to deal with the US disregard for the letter ‘u’. One of the most distressing experiences I face in everyday university life is discovering that my laptop’s default language has changed from ‘English: South Africa’ to ‘English: US’. Here’s hoping that the work I will be doing in the legal department of the IFC never requires me to type the words ‘color’, ‘humor’ or ‘aluminum’. (Thankfully, I don’t think that it will.)

The stereotype of the USA is that there are MacDonald’s or Burger Kings on every corner and that their meals are LARGE. Supersized even. I’ve never been one for fast food but I am definitely prepared to try the various burgers my teammates have already recommended and I’m truly excited about the free WiFi! Aside from the fast food though, I can already predict that I am going to embrace my tourist-y side and sample various bagels and pretzels (and cupcakes – apparently those are a big deal in DC). Since we are travelling to the US when the exchange rate is more than R10 to $1, we have been advised not to convert prices. While this seems like a very difficult thing to do, my absolute inability to do basic arithmetic in my head might help me in this respect.

The stories we have been told by other people and the movies and series we watch have likely created many of the above expectations. I am so sure that the DC part of the program is going to more than we can ever imagine. Now that the trip is approaching and everything feels real, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards the organisers and program directors who have made this adventure possible!

In 2012 when I started university, I was convinced that my law degree was going to be the first step towards a career as an advocate. Growing up, the legal profession had always interested me and advocacy seemed to allow me to couple this with my love of oratory. I am now more than half way through my basic legal degree and rather than feeling as though I am going in the right direction, I am not even sure which path I want to be on. At the SAWIP cocktail evening the Gauteng team attended on Tuesday, a number of people asked me what I hoped to do after I complete my LLB. I answered that I have about 5 paths in mind and I have no idea which one is best, and that instead of choosing I am just going to apply for all of them and hope that the acceptance or rejection will point me in the direction in which meant to be going. Not the most committal response but hey, I have always been terrible at making decisions and considering how important this one is, I can see no reason why it would be any different.

I maintain that ‘seeing what happens’ is a perfectly legitimate way living life, however, speaking to a couple of SAWIP alums and attending the SAWIP sessions has allowed me to hope that I won’t always live like that. Banele, (I’m not really sure what title to give her since she has done so much to make the UP expansion run smoothly, but I will go with ‘friendly neighbourhood superhero’) told me that while many SAWIPers come into the program with a very clear vision of where they are going, many others find that vision whilst on the program. I think that the latter will be the case for me.

Human rights and social justice have always been very important to me, I believed that studying law and becoming an advocate was the best way to play my role in furthering them. I now question whether that is true but have at least established through the SAWIP sessions that my disenchantment with the law has not made me any less interested in the underlying principles of justice. During Brian’s session about the Constitution, I discovered that I am just as enamoured with the document as I was before I started my legal studies. The site visits we went on solidified my desire to fight for social justice and the session we had about the role of the United Nations, last night, showed me that my belief in the importance of international cooperation to solve global problems is as strong as ever.

With the work placements finalised and the trip to DC drawing ever-nearer, I believe wholeheartedly that the experience is going help me decide what route to take to realise the interests mentioned above. My professional exposure is at the IFC, in the legal department, and I suspect that being in that kind legal working environment will be about a million times more interesting than anything I have learnt so far at university. Secondly, it will expose me to international law in practice, perhaps showing me that there are legal professions, far beyond advocacy, which meet my career aspirations. Lastly, from what I hear, DC is intern-central during the summer and there are plenty of workshops and seminars to attend. I plan to attend as many as possible and learn about as many fields and career-options as I can.

Maybe I’m being an idealist and things won’t magically fall into place in my head after July, but I am committed to using the opportunity I have been so lucky to be presented with to find direction and come up with a solid answer for when people ask me about my future.

As I am sure many of the team members did, before applying to SAWIP I examined the website carefully. On it, there are videos of previous SAWIPers speaking about their experiences and what the most valuable things they had gotten out of the program were. Many of them mentioned the wonderful people that they met and worked with on the team. Similarly, at the braai we had when the UP team members visited the Western Cape, one alum told us that she had made life-long friendships through SAWIP and spoke to members of her team every day. With the DC part of this program drawing nearer and the first part of the curriculum drawing to a close, I think I am starting to understand the feeling of family that alumni speak about.

The past two or three weeks have been some of the busiest and most stressful weeks I have ever experienced at University. With countless assignments and tests as well as SAWIP sessions, there was hardly a free moment to think. This is also why I haven’t blogged in a while (oops). I included SAWIP sessions in the list of things that kept me busy, but in reality we have only had one session a week recently, as opposed to the usual three. The difference had a very noticeable effect on me.

I have loved the sessions, I have found every one of them informative and engaging, and they provided an environment where we not only learnt about whatever the specific topic was, but also our team mates and the life experiences of the speakers. Last Thursday, when walking into Roosmaryn building, to the conference room we have grown accustomed to, I realised that these sessions were a bit a solace for me. It had been nearly a week since the previous one, and I had missed my team mates dearly. This particular session was not a light-hearted one; it was about moral choices in the light of tragedies such as the Holocaust. We listened in silence to the stories of Holocaust survivors and, I think, were deeply moved by the actions of some activists during the time. Despite the rather emotional session, I left feeling more relaxed. Rejuvenated even. I had learnt a lot, as I always do, but it was more than that, spending time with the team had given me new energy to tackle the last few varsity assignments I needed to complete.

At Selection Camp I told Erwyn that I thought I had made a friend in him that day. Now I can safely say that I have made a wonderful group of friends in the entire UP team. This weekend, I am coincidentally in the Western Cape and am attending the SAWIP session with the members of the team down there. I am excited by the prospect of getting to know them better, perhaps adding friends to the group I have already made, and getting ready for this amazing adventure on which we are about to embark.

100 metres to decide… 50 metres… 20 metres to decide. I’m at the door… they’re colouring in my thumb. I still have a few minutes to decide. Wait, there’s the ballot. Let me read all of the party names to give me more time to decide… Bushbuckridge Resident’s Association? That’s a party? The process could be delayed no more; I had to choose, for the first time, who I could trust to represent me.

On the 7^th of May, I voted in an election for the first time and the importance of the act weighed heavy on me for a very long time. People had fought for decades for the right to vote and it is not something that to be taken for granted. I faced the struggle that I think many young people face in that I have no particular affiliation to any party. I am not free of political inclination; it is simply that, after reading the various party manifestos, a vote for any of them seemed like a compromise of my beliefs. I didn’t spoil my ballot, if that’s what you’re thinking, instead I voted ‘strategically’ in an attempt to strengthen our multiparty democracy. However, I take issue with the fact that many voters could not vote for a party that they trusted to represent their beliefs because they did not think that such a party existed. This was the basis of the ‘No Vote’ campaign and while I believe that people should exercise their right to vote, I can fully understand the frustration of feeling that no party deserves it.

This week the Gauteng SAWIPers had a session with Mr Nic Wolpe. The son of Harold Wolpe, an Apartheid activist, Mr Wolpe is the CEO of the Lillies Leaf Trust. He specifically told the team about the importance of remembering and learning from history, emphasising that, unless history and the humanities are brought to the fore, we will never find harmony in the ecosystem that is our complicated society. After the session, I started to wonder whether some of the representational problems South Africa is experiencing could be put down to a loss of history.

When I speak of a loss of history, I do not mean that we don’t learn about it at school or that there aren’t monuments commemorating amazing people and prolific events, rather I mean that the way our history is represented means its true lessons are being lost in translation. As Erwyn pointed out in the session, we commemorate Madiba by putting his face on bank notes and we name streets and buildings after struggle leaders; I think that while these acts remember the people, they do not honour their message. For me the struggle was a multi-racial battle for equality and a sense of community. It was not about individual gain but rather about the greater good and objective right. The best way to honour the messages of visionaries is through our actions and I think that our current politicians may have lost sight of that. I sometimes feel that public servants have forgotten that they are meant to serve the community, and not themselves; more importantly though, I think they overlook the fact that there are countless examples of ‘balanced leaders’ in our history (from Mandela to Luthuli to Sobukwe) for them to follow.

When Madiba is relegated to pieces of coloured paper that only the privileged possess and our past leaders demoted to labels on maps, it’s difficult not to be disenchanted. I truly believe that the needs of the present society can be directly linked to past from which we came. Perhaps if politicians partook in an exercise of memory, they would be more in touch with the needs of their people and voting wouldn’t have been such a stressful affair for me.

“Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward.”

Sometimes I feel like a bit a pessimist, so decided to write this blog with these words from Nelson Mandela in mind. On Saturday the Gauteng SAWIPers visited Lillies Leaf farm, Constitutional Hill and the Apartheid museum. When I first conceived this blog, I thought that it was going to be a comment on the fact that many of the horrific tales we heard at these historic sites are nearly identically echoed in today’s society. Around election time we tend to see problems-solution gaps around us, and so instead of going with the trend, I wanted to write about the triumphs South Africa has had, triumphs which transcend any particular political party or individual.

I’m going to focus on Constitution Hill because it is far and away my favourite place in Gauteng. It helped to inspire me to study law; it perfectly encapsulates our unique heritage; but more than anything, it is a stunning example of how far South Africa has come in the past 20 years. Constitution Hill is the site of the Old Fort prison, part of which has now been converted into the Constitutional Court. A tour of the Hill involves a tour of both the remnants of the prison and the brand new court – a trip into the past which helps visitors truly appreciate the present. The differences between our two governmental dispensations are exemplified in so many ways - the most obvious example is the austere prison, enclosed by peeling walls, juxtaposed with the vibrant, modern court design. But I don’t think it’s possible to visit the site without having some kind of personal realisation of the progress we have made.

In Grade 10 I visited the Hill for the first time, I was struck by the unconventional court structure. None of the wooden panels and Corinthian pillars you’d associate with a traditional court. This court was set out in a welcoming way, with views to the outside, colourful carpeting and cow-hide desks. It didn’t seem like a place of punishment, there was no oppressive atmosphere. For me this shows our new approach to the law – it is not so much a weapon for retribution but a tool to help the vulnerable.

Last year, I had the privilege of assisting at the National Schools Debating Championships which were held in Johannesburg. Two personal experiences from Constitution Hill stand out. One evening, the Hill hosted a social for the schools debaters in the Women Jail. During Apartheid the courtyard of the jail was used as a church but was off limits to people of colour. As far as I know, a priest is buried under the courtyard and prison officials deemed it disrespectful to allow black prisoners to walk over his grave. However, 20 years into our democracy, over a 100 school children (from every race and walk of life) danced and laughed and sang in that very courtyard. It was previously a site of oppression, but on this night, the courtyard acted as a stage for the uninhibited joy of born-frees. The second instance took place on the final day of the tournament. The final debates were held in the actual court allowing the teams the opportunity to present their cases in the highest court in the land – a place usually reserved for the most qualified of legal professionals. This was able to happen because the court understands and values the importance and power of the youth. In 1976 young people took to the streets in Soweto because it was the only way to make themselves heard, now school children have been given the most revered stage of all to air their views.

While the SAWIP team sat in the square on Constitution Hill, laughing and eating pizza, forgetting that we come from different races, belief systems and economic backgrounds, I took a quiet moment to appreciate that this would have been impossible 20 years ago. It’s easy to get bogged down in our problems, but we have come a long way and sometimes you just have to take the time to stop and celebrate the triumphs.

Young people frequently use the phrase, ‘the struggle is real’, usually in reference to some trivial misfortune, such as having to wear mismatched socks or being R2 short of being able to buy coffee. Last weekend the Gauteng SAWIPers went on a tour of historical sites in Pretoria and while at Freedom Park, I was forced to wonder whether the struggle really is still real. I’ve spent my entire life in Pretoria but for some reason I had never been to Freedom Park, and man – I’d been missing out. With amazing panoramic views of the city, a fantastic story and a truly South African feel, the team concluded that we would all like to have our weddings there. Beauty aside, the tour really made me think about the state of our country and what a transition to democracy actually means.

Built to commemorate the four conflicts South Africa has experienced in its history, Freedom Park has walls of names of the people who lost their lives during the slave trade; the South African War; the First and Second World Wars; and lastly the struggle for democracy. The process of deciding which names to put on the wall is a long-term, working project, one which has been the subject of some controversy. While the names for the first three conflicts are taken from historical accounts, the names for the wall dedicated to those who lost their lives in the struggle are submitted by family members and screened by a committee. Controversy arises because site policy is that the wall will not include any names of people who died on the side of the National Party Government. We had a very knowledgeable tour guide, who justified this by explaining the spirit of the site to us. He had been involved in the struggle, to the left of the ANC as part of the Black Consciousness Movement, and more than simply having firsthand experience of the struggle, he challenged us with questions about our opinions on the current state of political affairs. The question that stands out for is, “Should the names of the miners who lost their lives at Marikana be included on the wall?” At the heart of this question is the question of whether or not a country ever really stops fights for democracy.

On April 27 1994 South African voted for the first time in our new Constitutional,multi-party democracy, which enshrined human rights, such as dignity and equality, for all. Does this mean that the struggle is over? I’m inclined to say no. The struggle has changed though, it is no longer a violent battle for equal treatment but rather a social battle to entrench our democratic institutions and offer equal opportunity to everyone. I’m not sure that the perfect democracy objectively exists but every new nation has a vision of the ideal. In the past 20 years of democracy we have achieved so much to be proud of, but we are definitely not at a level worthy of complacency. With service delivery strikes abound and economic inequality at an all time high, it’s clear that formal democracy on paper is not enough, we need substantive democracy which filters down to all levels of society.

There are certainly questions about whether or not Marikana was a political incident but considering the fact that the miners who lost their lives were protesting for an acceptable standard of living and access to opportunity, it would fit the criteria used to screen names for the wall. Surely those are both things that South Africans envisaged in their ideal democracy and until we have achieved them, the struggle is not over. Perhaps it will never be over, but understanding that there is still something to work towards is what motivates people to improve their lives and the lives of others.

Amy Freeze: a weather girl; Sue Yu: a divorce attorney from the USA; Dr Richard Chop: a leading urologist specialising in vasectomies.Nominative determinism espouses the theory that people are destined to live out the meaning of their names, the above are just a few of the many bizarre examples you’ll find if you look around. Over the past two weeks the Gauteng SAWIPers had sessions with Toastmasters in an attempt to familiarise ourselves with the art of public speaking. We were asked to prepare speeches for our second session and while researching I came across a speech given by an Australian called Victor Finkel. Still in his twenties, Finkel had some incredible insights into understanding the youth of today and I thought I’d share them here.

Born between 1982 and 2000, they call us Generation Y. With nominative determinism in mind, Finkel says that there are three questions that define us: ‘Why am I doing this?’; ‘Why do things have to be this way?’ and lastly, ‘Why can’t I cite Wikipedia?’

Why am I doing this?

While some members of other generations describe GenYs as impatient, disloyal and demanding, the truth is that we, as young people, care about more than just working for the sake of it. Practically, that means that we search for work that excites us, and if we don’t find it in one place, we are willing to search somewhere else. Within the Gauteng part of the team, four members have changed degrees. That’s not a sign of a lack of commitment instead; it shows direction and an understanding that happiness is not about getting a job anymore, it’s about working in a field that you love. The youth of today is not, and will not be satisfied with working without purpose; the commitment to social development of the SAWIP team members is the perfect example of this.

Why do things have to be this way?

In South Africa, most Generation Ys grew up in a time of transition, specifically one that emancipated the majority of citizens. As such, we see the value of challenging the status quo. Things such as climate change, rising levels of poverty and political complacency directly affect us as we are going to spend the next 60 years of our lives dealing with them. Many of the recent Arab revolutions were started by dissatisfied, unemployed youths, whose powerful messages inspired their nations. Similarly, the release of songs such as ‘Mr President’, illustrate the fact that older generations can no longer dismiss our ideas. Generation Ys are willing to stand up for themselves and be the change that they want to see.

Why can’t I cite Wikipedia?

A trite heading but one that simply emphasises that GenY has instant access to information via the internet. This makes us powerful beyond belief; anything we need to know is just a click away and every idea we publish is consumed by hundreds or thousands of members of our social networks. More than this though, we are used to constant feedback. As soon as something is posted on Facebook, we are able to find out whether people agree with it or not, engage in dialogues about it and evaluate our opinions against those of others. We are desensitised to criticism, and I think this means that we are better suited to learn from feedback outside of the virtual world as well.

People Between the ages of 15 and 35, Generation Ys, make up nearly 30% of South Africa’s population. We are the future, but with our passion, vision and adaptability, I’d say the future is in good hands.

At the SAWIP Selection Camp they try to extract as much information about you and your beliefs as is possible. One exercise asked us to describe our visions for South Africa and I emphasised my support for initiatives such as the Department of Health’s project to inoculate Grade 7 girls against cervical cancer. At the end of the day, we were asked to tell the other participants at the camp what we had learned from them and more than half of the people mentioned that I was a feminist and even went so far as to say that this was controversial.

Even today, when our Constitution enshrines equal rights for all sexes and genders, the word ‘feminist’ seems to be considered a swear word in many circles. I think that this stems from the common misconception that to be a feminist you have to a bra-burning, marriage-hating, tom-boy channelling the 1970s. This is certainly not the case: in the same way that women are not a homogenous group, feminism does not purport a homogenous set of ideals. Radical, second wave feminism, which was popular in the 1960s and 70s, calls for a total transformation of society and societal norms. They argue that our society is structured in such a way that it caters to men and any decision made by women, is not free as it is coerced by the masculine community in which the women were raised. This line of thinking labels certain women, based on the kinds of choices they make, as agents of the patriarchy.

While this theory still has some support, I don’t agree with it. To me, a movement which condemns members of the group which it is meant to be protecting is problematic. Radical feminism seems out of touch with reality because a complete overhaul of societal thinking is nearly impossible and in the mean time there are portions of the female population being left in the lurch. My brand of feminism promotes access to opportunities for women and supports their right to make choices about their bodies, careers, family lives and sexuality. The inequality of the past means that women may need greater education about opportunities available and perhaps other support structures, but to me, telling women that they are incapable of making a free decision based on what they want because male society has distorted their ability to do so, seems just as patronising as the society of old which said that women were only good for home-making. My way of thinking, doesn’t even seem like feminism, it’s just equality: an understanding and support for all people no matter who they are or what they are.

Being a feminist is not necessarily something controversial and this blog only superficially covers two constructions of the word. The fact that it has different meanings to different people is indicative of the impact that our contexts have on our way of thinking. That said, here are some general words of advice: don’t tell women what we like and don’t like as if you know better; don’t quote ‘Blurred Lines’ to us because you don’t know that we want ‘it’; but most of all, ask us about our opinions and don’t assume that the female population is only capable of holding the same, single set of ideals when it comes to our empowerment.

I have said speeches and done debates in front of hundreds of people without even a hint of nerves but ask me to interact with strangers in a small, intimate setting and my heart starts to race and when I speak it sounds as if I am hearing my own voice from far away. With that in mind, it’s no wonder that the SAWIP 2014 Selection Camp was an extremely daunting experience. Not only was the environment inherently competitive but it asked us to reveal as much information about ourselves as was possible. Throughout the day, I kept telling myself that I applied to SAWIP to push myself and upon reflection; I think that the situations the program exposes us to and the team that I have the privilege of working with may yet make social interactions with strangers less like out-of-body experiences for me.

The SAWIP 2014 team members, both from the Gauteng expansion and the Western Cape, seem to be extremely diverse, interesting and above all, impressive in their desires to serve and lead. They are the kind of people who should intimidate but don’t. I’ve spent a lot of time over the past few days wondering why that is the case and came to the conclusion that it has a lot to do with laughter. As South Africans we turn to humour in the darkest of times, one only has to look at the countless jokes about Nkandla and Oscar Pistorius doing the rounds, to see this. I think that it’s because it is easier to laugh than to be outraged, but more than that because it is far easier to involve yourself and feel comfortable in a light-hearted conversation than in a deep, meaningful one. The SAWIP team seems to be capable of laughing at themselves but also at the many ironies that life has to offer. At selection camp, our lunch time conversation, rather than being about the future of South Africa or the crisis in Syria, was about the weird and wonderful adventures we got up to in high school. Nothing fancy, but a topic that everyone could weigh in on and left everyone laughing. Similarly, during our Cape Town weekend, we listened to the tribulations of one of the team members who was over-charged by his cell-phone service provider. There is no way that that conversation is going to change the world, but it certainly made the environment and team dynamic more relaxed.

As a debater, I believe very strongly in discourse and engagement but that requires everyone to come to the table with their ideas. I know that I am not the only one who feels shy sometimes, and perhaps one of the reasons why the youth of don’t engage with their leaders is because those leaders seem intimidating. I think that there is a perception that time used for something other than serious problem solving, is wasted time. I have a problem with that; sure, the SAWIP team is going to have in-depth, socially conscious discussions about our role in the future of South Africa, but before you can have the big conversations you have to have the small ones, the ones which put people at ease and make them feel like they’re being listened to. So maybe, just maybe, the SAWIPers are the kind of down-to-earth, approachable leaders our country has been waiting for.