After spending 6 full months with this team of young South Africans, I am at a point where I realise that the future of this country looks just FINE…

Program directors, members of the board, esteemed guests, University representatives, Sponsors, friends of SAWIP, parents, my SAWIP Team mates and fellow South Africans, Good-evening.

My name is Mandilakhe Cecil Lwana, a student of physiotherapy from the University of the Western Cape, a member of the SAWIP Team of 2013, and above all I am a lover and a citizen of this beautiful country.

I was born in a small village called Mdingi, just outside King William`s Town in the Eastern Cape. But tonight I will spare you the details of my personal struggles of growing up in the rural Eastern Cape, with the humbling knowledge of those who experienced far worse and far greater.

I have been given a momentous task of sharing my 6 month SAWIP experience in less than 5 minutes, and unfortunately I am a slow talker by nature.

SAWIP is a program that allowed us to explore all the different facets that make up our South Africa and the challenges our nation is facing. SAWIP ushered us into a place of becoming problem solvers.

However SAWIP has done more than that. SAWIP has brought together 17 different minded individuals who might have never met, it did not only teach them how to work together but made them friends, who are united in their diversity.

It is no easy task grooming young, diverse South Africans. You need to be able to instill confidence without reaching arrogance. You need to impress humility without expressing weakness. You need to appreciate diversity but not at the expense of unity, in order to realise the dreams of Former President and Father of our Nation, Nelson Mandela, about a Rainbow Nation. The dreams of young leaders leading our young country to a better tomorrow for all who live in it.

This is especially relevant as we realise the mortality of Nelson Mandela. I think we can find comfort in the immortality of the lessons and values he has taught us not only through his speech but also in his deeds. If Nelson Mandela were here tonight he would be proud to see this: young people willing to learn from their elders, old people willing to teach the young. He will be proud to see South Africans who are concerned of the future of South Africa.

Many times we have been told that we are future leaders, change agents of tomorrow; tonight I know the future that has been spoken about has finally arrived. SAWIP has created within me a heightened sense of urgency to pursue solutions that our country needs so badly.

Tonight I am honoured to have known a team that has the audacity.

• The audacity to believe that every citizen can have 3 meals a day for their bodies.
• A team that has the audacity to believe that every citizen can have an education and culture for their minds
• A team that has the audacity to believe that every citizen can have dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits…

…and are determined to work towards it until it flows through all the cracks of our society like mighty streams.

In conclusion, I would like to thank my team for challenging and inspiring me to be fearless and selfless in serving our South Africa. SAWIP changed my story, awakened me to a pivotal sense of urgency regarding my contribution to South Africa.

… for all that, Thank you! Thank you very much!!

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.

I have shared a number of stories about almost everything that I have encountered and thought, but I have never really shared the story of my life. Before I even start telling you anything know that this is a story of victory not defeat, a story of hope and despair, a story of an ordinary South African.

My name is Mandilakhe (meaning: I have to build it) I was born in a tiny village near King Williams Town in the Eastern part of South Africa. I stayed with my mother and father and my 3 siblings in our mud house with a grass roof. I am a 3rd born of my parents, my elder sister was born with a mental condition called Ataxic Cerebral Palsy which left her quadriplegic, for this reason my parents never really had to work or be away for weekends as they had to look after her 24/7 because she could not talk, walk, and eat.

Growing up in a small village I had to deal with people who called my family bewitched and cursed, I would be involved in a lot of fights with other children who made fun of my sister. Most of the time my mother would be in hospitals looking after my sister because she required full day attention and nurses had other patients to take care of, hospitalization for my sister meant hospitalization for my mom, which meant I had to eat my fathers undercooked burnt pap and soup. My father and my brother would visit my sister almost every Fridays; I spent a lot of time in hospitals as a kid not because I was sick but because my sister was sick. I remember waiting I the waiting room of Grey Hospital and how much I enjoyed just watching doctors and nurses running up and down saving lives, I enjoyed being in the hospital and walking around hospital peeing through door windows to see doctors doing operations, I knew I wanted to be a doctor, there was something extraordinary I felt when I saw doctors talking in their jargon and doing minor physical examination, my would tingle, my toes would itch, and my hair would stand at the back of my head.

I quickly learn funny words like craniotomy, frontal cortex, and Cortisol, I was so keen to learn more about these words and what they meant, not just to understand more about my sister, but to feel the hair standing and my toes tingle, up to this day I love this feeling. I moved from being a street fighter to being a rural boy who spent hours in the toilet reading everything that had ink on it. I started learning words like philatelist and visiting countries like Czechoslovakia in my head while in our toilet. I loved knowing things that other people in my village did not know about; I enjoyed unleashing my imagination to run wild next to my grandmother’s fire-place while reading about the adventures of the Hardy boys. I wanted to see these places I read about, I wanted to do some of the things the characters of my books where doing.

Today sitting in the 15 floor corner office, at the heart of Washington DC with a big window that stares at the Potomac River (which is the fourth largest river along the Atlantic coast of the United States and the 21st largest in the United States) I am tempered to say that world which I used to read about in our toilet is the world that I am experiencing now, how can I ever be the same again? These are life altering experiences.

I am a confused Nelly, before I came here I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life, my plan was straight forward with clear objectives, but now I am so confused about the direction I want to take in my life. Partly because I have been exposed to a world that respects genuine curiosity and a desire to learn. Here ( where I intern) your degree is not as valuable as the skills you possess.Here people use their education as a medium of acquiring skills and learning how to learn.

Institutions of higher learning play a big role in producing monotonous professionals who only know what they studied, because most of the lectures teach us what to think, not how to think. They ask us to regurgitate what is written in the textbook, and punish us for not doing things within the parameters of a 20 year old textbook. This is a big problem in a country that lacks skilled people. I strongly feel that in as much as our teachers teach us how to answer questions, they should teach us how to ask the right questions. In as much as we are tought to substantiate our arguments we should also be taught how to find flaws in our arguments. In as much as we are told what is ethical practice? We should be shown also how to work out what is ethical or unethical or somewhere in between.

This idea of teaching us how to think, rather than what to think, will enable a generation that is creative and innovative. I look forward to an educational system that can produce physiotherapy students who understand the “Paradox of Thrift” in economics, a system that will enable law students to understand the “Kreb`s Cycle” in physiology, the Idea is to have a multi-dimensional individual who are not afraid to learn new skills and knowledge, South Africa needs such individuals, it needs thinkers not programmed professionals.

Most of the time in South Africa you kind of feel that you are expected to work for profession you studied, by the virtue of studying physiotherapy l sort of feel obligated to practice as a clinician, merely because that is what I was trained to become. I am certain that law students are not exceptions to this idea of feeling obliged to be lawyers, medical students to be doctors. I do not like this obligation for a number of reasons, one of them is that many young people are studying professions they do not like, I know a lot of students doing their Bachelors degree in Education and Social Work, not because they wanted to be teachers or social workers but because they are being paid to study that by the government in forms of bursaries and scholarships.

I remember growing up number of us wanted to be policemen, magicians and soccer-players, but as we grow older we dawned into a world where money is the center of the world. We quickly abandoned these childish dreams and chased after melting bucket-loads of money at the cost of our passions. I understand the need for certain professions in my country and I agree that there should be financial support for to students who want to study these professions but we should not merely entice our students to these professions with Bursaries or scholarships, because we risk producing teachers who hate teaching and professionals who hate what they do.

As my time gets shorter and shorter in Washington, there are few questions that become bigger and bigger in my SAWIP journey, one of those questions I have been was struggling to answer is, the “so what?” question.

You went through this wonderful experience so what? What can humanity benefit from what you learned?

So you had a discussion on technology and business innovation with the guys from Google campus, so what?

So you visited the Smithsonian Museum of African History and Culture- Civil Rights, So what?

So you sat at Nandoes eating peri-peri chicken with Ambassador Ebrahim Rassol, taking about the issues that face South Africans, So what?

So you interned at John Snow Inc. learning about intricate issues that face the health of your country, so what? So you were at the United States Institute for peace and learning what it takes to live in a more peaceful world, so what?

So, you listened to intriguing panel discussions at the Woodrow International Center, so what? So you met Congressman John Lewes who was with Martin Luther King Jr. in the Civil Rights Movements, So what?

So, you had great afternoon discussions with your host mom, who is super-smart and an intriguing person, so what? So, you listened to a Yale University Lecture talking and Global Trade, Foreign policy and Economics, so what?

So you had lessons of peace and conflict resolutions at Hogan Law Firm in Pennsylvania Avenue, So what?

So, The Supply Chain Management Systems thought you all the intricate details that happen for the procurement of pharmaceutical products to developing countries, so what?

There are a lot of questions I managed to find answers to, but not to this one ( So what?) I am still struggling to answer this one. A lot of great wealth of knowledge has been transferred and shared with me, I am deeply grateful for that But now I am left with a mission of how I apply my knowledge to solve some of the problems that face my country. How do I use the knowledge I have gained in this wonderful experience and implement it for the development of my country, what happens after SAWIP, do I go back to University and be the same old Cecil I was before coming here? How do I effect change in my corner of existence?

SAWIP is a catalyst to the interactions that will happen after my SAWIP experience, I feel much more empowered and globally connected with other change makers around the world. I cannot wait to get back home and look at my country through the lenses I am now wearing.

I do whoever think that one of the greatest things about living in South Africa is that there will always be something to be done, I will not sit down and do nothing about the tools I have gained through SAWIP. When asked, so what? You have been through this wonderful experience, what has the country gained out of that, I should be able to account for every piece of effert that was invested in my development.

I think one of the most crucial parts of our SAWIP experience is going to New York. New York is what I consider a "real city" with real city problems. New York gave me a well-rounded experience of the American experience.

Most of the time when I am in DC I feel like this world is too perfect to be true, it`s too clean, too efficient, too wealthy, and too much of everything good. One of the traps that I think I would have easily fallen for was leaving US thinking the whole America is like Washington DC.

When I entered the hot, rat infested subways of New York City I knew that this is the other flip side of the coin, I am bound to see a much objective side of this country. I am about to listen to a raw story of America told by the cruel streets of NYC. I boarded the train and the dirt on the floor greeted me warmly, the noises that the people made managed to crack a smile of my chicks. I even saw those ladies who miss their stations because they were sleeping, I felt at home.

As I walked outside of Times Square Metro Station there was a long line of ordinary people selling food, clothes, snacks and everything in between on the street. One thing was certain-this is a real world, with real people who have real struggles like many of us in other parts of the world.

Who better depicts the struggle of New Yorkers, than a New York born music artist – Tupac Shakur, in his song THE ROSE THAT GREW FROM CONCRETE “Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's law is wrong it learned to walk without having feet. Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared. “

The song, reflects on his own upbringing in a poor neighborhood of East Harlem in New York City where poverty is an existing order. Tupac speaks not only to the difficulties of making ends meet but also, to the expectation of being a provider in a society that refuses him the chance to make an honest living. New York and its people made me realize that America is like any another country in the world, it has country problems like any other country.

The over glorification of US that DC has painted in my mind was quickly replaced by a more realistic image of a real world with real problems. There are a lot of problems that ordinary Americans facing, HIV and Unemployment might not be one of them. But there is a huge need for proper spacious housing, unpolluted air and a healthy diet.

When you see ordinary Americans of the streets of New York going through their ordinary daily struggles, you sort of realize that, the first and fore-most responsibility that this great Nations has, is towards its own people. I am aware that America has a lot of commitments towards other Nations of the world. It gives a lot of aid to developing countries and South Africa is no exception, however we should be aware of the fact that America has to look after the interests of its own people first before it could even begin to care about Malaria in Malawi, the HIV pandemic of South Africa.

I can only imagine how difficult it would be for South African diplomats to have honest arguments and even disagree with US diplomats. But then again how do you say `NO` to a country that never holds back its helping hand? Are we in a corner, where we cannot say no with our minerals without risking the HIV/AIDS treatment aid being take away? Or maybe the real question is how do we create an economy that is independent and allows healthier relationships with other Nations of the world?

Washington DC has a fair share of things to do, and a lot of places to visit; amongst such is a long list of Memorial Monuments. From Washington Monument and Lincoln Monument, to the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial and everything in-between, DC has got more sightseeing than an eye can dare see, and they all look mighty and glorious.

I hate boring you with details but it is necessary in painting the massiveness of these monuments; please allow me: The War Memorial for instance has 4 bronze columns that want to touch clouds, 4 bronze eagles and 1 bronze laurel within each pavilion, 24 bronze bas relief sculptures along the ceremonial entrance (12 on each side), 4,000 sculpted gold stars on the Freedom Wall, 112 bronze wreaths, 56 bronze ropes between the pillars I will not even try to describe the splendor of the Lincoln Memorial; our tour-guide jokingly said “this is a Temple of the American god, Lincoln.” That being the case there was an odd one out, “The Vietnam Memorial Monument.” The walls are sunk into the ground, with the earth behind them. The highest tip is only 3 meters high. The stone for the wall came from India, and was deliberately chosen because of its reflective quality.

This Monument honors the servicemen who went to support South Vietnam in a war that was not theirs to fight. They never got any support for the support they gave to South Vietnam and were highly criticized for part taking in this war which lead to a huge loss of life. “Those engraved in the black granite marble stone went to a land they never knew to fight for a people they never knew” our tour-guide said. It is said that one of the survivors of the Vietnam War was asked a question we would all want to ask anyone who fights for people they do not know nor related to…why do you even care? His response was “I oppose the war in Vietnam because I love America. I speak against it not in anger but in anxiety and sorrow in my heart, and above all with a passionate desire to see our beloved country stand as a moral example of the world.”

The mirror effect of the granite stone creates and harmonizing reflective space, as I looked at this long list of names, I realized that I was looking at myself, as much as I was looking at them I was looking at myself through them. I realized that the true measure of a men is not where he stands when times are comfortable for him, but where he stands when times are uncomfortable for his fellow-men, our worth is measured by our ability to stand against injustice even if we do not have to.

The words engraved in Martin Luther King JR. Monument came to life for me “ Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice anywhere, we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny, whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. Alabama, 1963

Ting tong! “the train to Cape Town via Lavistown is 40 minutes late, Metrorail apologizes for the inconvenience.”

I miss the man who used to budged in a train carrying big plastic bags and a basket of filled with Chips and Lollipops, shouting at the top of his voice “chips 2 Rands ,Airtime and Lollipops!”.

I miss that lady who used to uplift our Spirits with a church songs on a very hot afternoon when all you wanted to do is to just sleep.

I miss that slightly overweight young lady who used to place her oily hair against the windows and let the contents of her mouth slowly drool down her chicks.

I miss the minister who told us to do as he said or else we would go to hell. I miss being squashed in between armpits and bosoms of strangers.

I miss the random toothless smile that flashed around the train. I miss the train that never arrives on time. I miss our South African trains. The American train is clean, fast and efficient, but it`s deadly boring.

The passengers never talk to each other, they just take out their toys (usually iPhones, iPod’s and kindles) connect to the wireless internet on the train and bow they heads as they worship these toys with their fingers.

South Africans are big on conversations, it how we learn about each others. We get advice from unbiased strangers. In South Africa you can talk anything about everything with anyone. UK had the Oratory Soapbox, South Africa has trains.

US is big on political correctness and this can create over sensitivity to people, we were made aware that there are certain topic that you are not allowed to discuss especially in public platforms, you cannot tell someone that you are dressed nicely because that’s sexual harassment, you cannot say Happy Christmas because you are forcing your Religion on others.

I don’t think you can say anything about anything that has nothing to do with work and making money. I think I understand the silent train, because genuine conversation imped by a lot of regulations and people would rather keep quiet. I don’t like this quietness in trains it makes me feel alone in a room full of people.

I agree that sometime when you are in Rome do as the Romans do; it is obvious that society would not function properly if newcomers did not obey the laws. One particular good example of this is road rules. Imagine what would happen if South Africans insisted on keeping the left when they are driving in America.

A sick and dehumanising society.

It is easy to prove how similar we all are. It is difficult proving how different we all are. Throughout history evil man have tried to make "diagnostic tests" that will make it easy to divide the human race. I have heard stories about the notorious ‘Pencil Test’ – a test carried out by government officials on those who wished to be classified as ‘white’ in the days of apartheid. The test went something like this: a pencil was inserted into the hair of the person wishing to be reclassified – if it fell to the floor, ‘white’ classification was granted, if it stayed in place, ‘colored’ classification remained. There were further layers in the test – if someone, wished to be reclassified as ‘colored’ from ‘black’ the same pencil would be inserted and the person had to then shake their head. If the pencil stayed in, no reclassification!

A sick and dehumanising society.

In his quest to prove that people are not good enough to be qualified as human being, Hilter instructed that peoples nose and hair color and beliefs should qualify them to be human-beings.

A sick and dehumanising society.

When I was standing in front of 600 pictures at Cape Town Haulocaust Center, every picture representing someone’s sister, brother, aunt and cousin I was overwhelmed with shame of being a human being. I have never been shameful of ever belonging to a human race, but realizing how brutal human beings can be towards one other, I could help thinking animals are better than humans, because at least they kill out of hunger or self defense, we kill out of anger and hatred.

A sick and dehumanising society.

I was very shocked when I thought about my thoughts, and I realized that as much as Hitler is different from me he is also similar. The bitter truth is at some point in his life he was nursed by the warmth of a loving mother, he was nourished by the breasts of a women, he smiled as a child, he enjoyed the taste of sugar tantalizing his taste-buds, these are some of the similarities that I shared with “baby Adolf” , How did he not see these simple truths about human beings?

A sick and dehumanising society.

I finally understood what Rholihlahla Mandela meant when he said “all humans were created equal and should be treated equally.” The moment we start thinking that we are different or better than a certain group of people, we device an excuse why we should treat people less of human beings and we start brutalizing them.

A sick and dehumanising society.

Few personal questions surfaced about myself which had to answered urgently. I needed to know why do I consider myself a black South African? Why is being South African not enough for me? It dawned on me that I belong to a way-better race, THE HUMAN RACE. Before I am a Xhosa, South African and African, I am a human being, a species that sits at the throne of all living creatures. Contrary to the popular belief (that Nazi`s and the apartheid government believed) when we further sub-classify this human race we diminish the value of who we are.

A sick and dehumanising society

The experience of many South African men has been powerfully influenced by history. Particularly black fathers were separated from their children by the need to work in distant places on the terms of Migration Act that permitted only one annual visit home. The work was physically hard and the environment was brutal it produced men who were immune to pain, hardship and violence. What happened to our villages when these men of steel came back home is another story on it`s own.

Caring for the most part was considered to be a task exclusively for women. The children had to find means and ways to live and survive without fathers. Our rural homesteads were fatherless, mothers had to play fathers. Not all fathers are proud to be fathers, and unfortunately not all fathers want to participate in their children`s lives in fact most South African men do not seem interested in the lives of their children, now we have cases where boys die trying to be better man. The men who manage to get fatherhood right through a series of trail-and-error are too old to use their wisdom and too stingy to share it with young men who are still trying to figure it all out.

Men do not talk about these things, their struggle to manhood is kept secrete, we act as if we are made of steel, the moment a boy start squinting his eyes to cry they are told to “ man up, men don’t cry we should suck it up!” unfortunately in the process of sucking it up we suck it up so hard we begin to asphyxiate and die in our silence. Society expects us to be Superman * but even Superman had kryptonite* Is it that important to preserve this existing social structure that males, as a gender and a clan, be pushed to psychological suffocation that leads a robotic life – running on social instructions?

As young men we need other men as role models, we need someone to take us through the mazes of being a man, our mothers can not do that, we appreciate the warmth of their embrace and the nourishment of their breast milk but that’s not enough to make boys to men. You must understand that a father is a guide to a boy, he announces what a boy will become, and he explains to him how to pave your course through the chaos of masculinity.

If we are going to have a healthy family structure, no one should be left outside, boys need as much coaching and empowerment as girls, should we fail at this we risk continuing this vicious circle of absent fathers sometimes physically present. We risk our brothers turning to drugs for solutions; we risk a generation of boys that seeks to be confirmed as men through beating women.

Today, the media is replete with news of crimes committed by men and with anti-male sentiments provoking male hatred and the society, including men, is silent about it. Because, we have so high expectations from men and because we take them for granted, society holds only those men responsible for the crimes reported, against whom it is reported. We are forgetting the famous quote by Henry Thomas, “Society prepares the crime, the criminal commits it”.

Squarely blaming men for crimes is not going to reduce it, it will rather increase it. It is pertinent to realize that even if a man commits a crime, he does not do it by choice; he is rather forced and cornered to such an extent that he is left with no other options. Notwithstanding crime and nor an attempt to justify crime, but it must be pertinent and enlightening realization that crime can only be reduced by eliminating factors that leave men with no options but crime and not the criminal.

Lack of choices in men’s life and lack of “Male Empowerment” are two key indirect contributors to crime as it wipes off the trust of the society from the man and he takes to the ultimatum. Crime by men is not a disease, it’s just a symptom; symptom of a far more serious disease – Misandry and Male Disposability. Choice belies with the society, whether to work on symptoms or to attack the disease, the root cause. In my opinion “Male Empowerment” is the call of the day, what do you think?

When you start to care, you can’t stop. But the more you care, the more it burdens you. And you start asking yourself: is it even worth it? These questions buoyantly come to surface when you see yourself as some one who was placed on this world to change it.The past few weeks have been filled with great discussions and critical thinking about current situations that face the global village, in most of these discussions one is usually left feeling hopeless about ever changing these crises.

Many people want to change the world and this is a noble cause, but rather unrealistic don’t get me wrong I am not oblivious of all the wrongs that the world is facing nor the change one person can make. But my problem with the approach is that it gives one an unhealthy identity about themselves and what they are capable of doing.

The idea of wanting to carry the sins of the world and fix every wrong is wrong. We should not aspire to change the world but to make a difference, because making a difference is a process that leads to the changing of the world. When a person thinks that he can change the world this creates unrealistic supremacy identity, what I personally call the Messaih complex. The world is a complex structure it requires cooperation from diverse individuals working together for a common vision of making this world a better place for all.

Better than doing things with the propensity to change the world, we should start doing things with the intentions to make a difference, by doing that we subconsciously influence others to start doing things that make a difference too and the best way to convince other people is to lead by example.

We are not here to change the world, but to make a difference, and watch our difference changing the world. Every effort counts, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem. Just do something, and do something good.

My grandmother had 23 grand children, one day she calls me aside, she had a serious look in her face , the one she usually gives us when we have stolen sugar or her coins. She says to me “ I have been watching you ,my heart quickly went to tachyarrhythmia. She continues and says “ I think you are really special. I think you will do great things for the world. I said ewe makhulu(yes grand-ma), She further says but I want you to promise me three things. Promise to take care of my daughter your mother, that did not sound too bad I love my mother so I quickly replied yes grandma, secondly I want you to promise to always do the right thing even if the right thing is not popular or comfortable. Ewe Gogo (yes grandma). She continued to her last request “Mandilakhe (she only uses my Xhosa name when I am in trouble or she is talking of a serious matter)Promise me to never drink alcohol. I was still quite young then so I said ewe makhulU.

This one Christmas eve my cousins and I were going to swim in the river, my older cousin comes with a carry pack of liquor with 6 green bottles in it. He takes one bottle and starts drinking, my other cousin takes one. Remembering Gogos words I declined. They both look at me as if I was crazy, come- on Cecil you always do everything we do, just take, I said no. My elder cousin looks surprised and continues to say , is it because of what Gogo told you? I acted naive “no, what are talking about? Gogo tells all her grand children that they are special and they will do good things for the world. I was heart broken.

Drinking is a big problem in many South African communities, it poses huge treats to our families structures, health and justice system. Drinking is a leading cause of death in our roads, a leading cause of domestic violence. The Western Cape alone in South Africa has double the numbers of babies born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome than the next province on the list, this is a new form of child abuse and it should be addressed urgently. Medically speaking alcohol has been proven to inhibit the processes of the neo-frontal cortex (the front portion of the brain) responsible judgment and reasoning.

Recently I have been attending events where a glass of wine with a cigarette in between your index and middles finger seems to be a sophisticated and diplomatic way of having a good conversation. It is amazing how much things people are able to do with their mouths, in one of the events I was at, a young lady was chewing gum, sipping wine and talking all at once if this is not dangerous then I don’t know what is. Big business deals are discussed over a smoke-break , and choices are made by drunken people. We can only live in a healthy country once we start making healthy choices .