Decided to run for UCT SRC under the banner of SASCO UCT. Wrote up this manifesto for the SASCO candidates and thought I should share. The South African Students Congress UCT: Progress over Points The South African Students Congress remains committed to the needs of students and remain a stalwart for continuity for a progressive and transformative student governance system. The Student Representative Council should remain steadfast in its search for long term solutions to that emerge from continuity from within its structures. UCT represents a microcosm of society that SASCO believes should always remain transparent, inclusive and adequately progress all students regardless of class, background or race from 1st year to their eventual graduation. We believe the university should not solely be viewed as a world class research university but we should encourage our students to be a world class undergraduate university. From the state of lecture theatres, lecturer performance, residence facilities and services and various other university utilities; SASCO will always remain committed to their constant evaluation and scrutinization to ensure students obtain their value for money. Challenging academic exclusion through enhancing academic excellence, bringing down the threat of financial exclusion and protecting and enhancing transformation objectives of the university remain SASCO’s responsibility to all students in the University

My name is Rekgotsofetse Chikane, son of Reverend Frank Chikane. I love my surname. It’s filled with history that would rival any folk tale. It brings joy to those who believe to be more than just a name. But I love it because it is what I make it to be.

I remain more than just a name because I choose to live my life the way I do. Many people believe that I should become a politician just like my father. Others believe that I should be a pastor at my church and maybe someday take over from him. If I were to do any of the above I would do it because that is who I want to be and not who I am trying to be.

I don’t wish to live a life which people would consider a sequel to my fathers. I don’t believe that the achievements that he has made over his lifetime can ever be matched (though my opinion is obviously bias) and he remains an inspiration to me, but only an inspiration.

The name Chikane doesn’t define me. The name Chikane doesn’t just pave the way forward for me to follow. I choose to follow my own path and define my own life. During the weeks that we have been back from the United States there have been times in which I was disillusioned about the things I do and whether they affect the lives of the people around me. The SAWIP community service project reinvigorated my belief in helping others but more importantly in believing that you can help others.

I am currently running for the Student Representative Council at my university under the tag line of “Vote Chikane”. I choose to run this way not because I want to bite off my father’s name or ride on the Chikane bandwagon. I’ve run under it because I respect all that he has ever done and wish to add on to it. I am more than my father because I have acknowledged who I am and what I believe in under my own accord.

The name Chikane holds no weight on my shoulders but rather inspires me to do more. It makes me want achieve all I can. The greatest words my father ever told me were “You will one day influence this country more than you ever know”. I hope that one day I will. I know that regardless of how my life turns out, regardless of where I am in the future. I will always know that I want to be more than just my father.

When World’s Collide

So what do you do at that moment when worlds collide? When what you believe in is challenged, criticized and found to be empty and lethargic? What do you do when the ideology that you supposedly stand for is backed against the wall and facing insurmountable odds?

It’s a strange world we live in. A world in which your belief in an idea can end up labelling you as a hero or a fiend. When the collision forces you to face the proverbial fork in the road; do you stay strong to your cause? Your beliefs? Or do you flounder under the pressure and meander with the current flow of thought?

I would never speak on behalf or everyone but I feel that we as people obtain more from a collision then from avoiding it. I embrace these worldly collisions because it allows me to grow into the multi-faceted individual I hope I can one day be. I embrace these collisions because of the outcomes that prevail and ideas that form from them. When worlds collide the change from ignorance to enlightenment, from cold and callous to warm and loving is not solely based in the realm of opinions, but rather in the realm in which the voice that speaks truer and louder is able to reverberate from one person to the other.

It is when we are willing to collide our world and challenge the thought of another while consolidating your own that we truly begin to learn. It’s when we accept that another person’s voice speaks louder and truer than your own then we surmise that ideaological collisions don’t destroy but rather create.

I feel like I am philosophising and I feel like many people may disagree with me. But I know I’m clear when I say I am not guided by an ideology. I am free to think and free to be who I want to be. I am free to live how I want to live and be inspired by who I want to be inspired by. I am neither dictated to by rhetoric nor have I cast it away. We are all free to criticise and learn from our engagements. Seeking for an answer within the collision of worlds is to seek to form your own world.

It’s confusing at first. In fact it’s frustrating. But as long as I endeavour to speak truth to word I remain optimistic in my in approach to collisions so that in the end I grow, I learn, I build, I share and I embrace what I’ve been given.

Whenever my worlds collide I can help but embrace the moment. I thrive under it and I learn from it. It helps me to better to understand the world I live in. It forces me to be critical of all I see. So I ask you now . . . are you willing to let your world collide?

So I am definately not one to skip out on a blog post by just posting a video *smiles to self*. But this is something else. This speech is really something else. Written in the 1920's for the movie The Great Dictator starring Charlie Chaplin this speech is literally far beyond its time. This is a speech that from then until forever will remain timeless.

Heres the video link if you don't want to read it. I think the video adds that extra bit of drama and visual effect.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsgaFKwUA6g

Here is the Transcript:

The Jewish Barber (Charlie Chaplin's character): Hope... I'm sorry but I don't want to be an Emperor - that's not my business - I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another, human beings are like that.

We all want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the earth is rich and can provide for everyone.

The way of life can be free and beautiful.

But we have lost the way.

Greed has poisoned men's souls - has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.

We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in: machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little: More than machinery we need humanity; more than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair".

The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die [now] liberty will never perish...

Soldiers - don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you as cattle, as cannon fodder.

Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines. You are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate - only the unloved hate. Only the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty.

In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written “the kingdom of God is within man” - not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you, the people.

You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let's use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They do not fulfill their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.

Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Look up! Look up! The clouds are lifting - the sun is breaking through. We are coming out of the darkness into the light. We are coming into a new world. A kind new world where men will rise above their hate and brutality.

The soul of man has been given wings - and at last he is beginning to fly. He is flying into the rainbow - into the light of hope - into the future, that glorious future that belongs to you, to me and to all of us. Look up. Look up.

Whose blood is more red?

The truth that makes men free is for the most part
the truth which men prefer not to hear.
--Herbert Agar, A Time for Greatness (1942)

When walking into the Holocaust museum my initial thoughts were actually quite simple. “You might get emotionally touched, but this was never your battle so it shouldn’t make you distraught.” I already knew at the back of my mind that not many people would be able to walk through the Holocaust museum and not be moved by something but I thought I would be the exception.

As the elevator doors opened and I entered the first of three floors the museum had to offer, I braced myself for a picture that would immediately put the entire holocaust into context. Almost as if it read my mind the first photograph I saw was of a group of German soldiers nonchalantly smiling and standing in front of a pile of burnt human carcasses. At that point I knew that this museum would be harder to get through than I thought.

As I progressed from photograph to photograph each one telling its own unique story the emotional baggage that each one carried was placed upon me. From the clear struggle etched in the faces of those confined in the concentration camp to the emotional pain of recorded voices of those who experienced the brutal incarceration. It all built upon each other sending me through an emotional ride of frustration, anger, loneliness, terror, joy, relief and other emotions all mixed in a smorgasbord that eventually ended in a feeling of contempt for the visit.

I didn’t want to be there any longer than I had to be. I had seen enough. I wasn’t near the point of breaking down; rather I was closer to the point of wanting to emotionally numb myself to it all. Block my senses as if I had taking a dose of novacaine. I found it easier to block the feelings the museum challenged me with than to accept the emotional challenge it brought. My trip throughout the various floors culminated with meeting back outside with the rest of the SAWIP group and an opportunity to let myself feel again. Take my mind off what I had just witnessed and allow my mind to be free of all those thoughts. As I cleared up my mind a single thought kept recurring and almost as if it was stuck on repeat.

I kept telling myself how none of what I just saw made any sense to me. It just didn’t. Whether you try to rationalize it, logically justify it, interpret it in any other way it would still not make sense to me. The systematic eradication of not only the Jewish population of Europe but of all others who were “different” from what was considered the perfect race is something that doesn’t make sense to me.

Whose blood is more red between a Jew and Gentile, Christian and Muslim, Israeli and Palestinian, South African and Nigerian? Whose blood is more red between you and the woman standing next to you in the train? The killing and destruction of those who are different from you simply based on their physical appearance but whose heart beats to the same rhythm as your own remains to me as something that doesn’t make sense.

As we discussed as a group what we had experienced in the museum I felt a group wide reflection on their own humanity and that of the people on our own planet. When faced with the question of what would you do if you were a Nazi German, one is forced to raise the question of their own humanity and is forced to deal with their own morality?

We talk about how the world refuses to see something such as the Holocaust ever again yet we as the world fail to stop history from repeating itself. Death and destruction seem to follow those who search for a Darwinian response to the nature of humans.

I was recently asked why I see myself as black and not firstly as a human. Does the idea of me being black mean that I am different from a white person? Does my difference leave me better or worse off. The world needs us to see each other more as humans who have acknowledged their capacity of creating mass destruction but have chosen to be even more capable of creating a world for all to live in without fear or prejudiced. It is in a human’s ability to acknowledge the truth of our capacity to kill where we will find the power to speak out to such an act.

I was moved by the Holocaust museum. I was made to see the truth of what might happen in any society if we remain silent and complacent. Trying to make sense of what doesn’t make sense is a head bashing exercise but one filled with immense personal reward and gain when a solution is found. I was emotionally defeated into numbness by the Museum but renewed in my vigor to help restore and sustain the humanity of our planet.

Follow @kgotsi22

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

-WB Yeats

So not many people are going to enjoy this particular blog but bear with me. I want to ask whoever is reading this blog one question.

WHO ON EARTH IS CONGRESSMAN JOHN LEWIS???

I’m being dead serious about this. I ask this question because until a couple days ago I had no idea who this man was or what his relevance to my life was as well. As many people who do know him can imagine this is really awkward for me. As my fellow SAWIP group members, either stared in awe of this man or had even gone to the extent of reading his book and quoting it. All I could think of was who is this man and how is he relevant to me?

It’s a question that I have come to realize many South Africans as well as Americans would have a similar view or answer to. In fact millions of people across the world probably share the same view. I had never heard of the man until I entered SAWIP. So when heading into a meeting with a man many seem to consider as a legend, I was filled with a sort of anxiousness one gets when heading into the unknown. I knew that he was important but my mind couldn’t comprehend just how important he was.

As we waited patiently for him to enter the room an intern decided it would be best watching a video about the congressman’s life. That was probably the single worst thing he could have done to me at that point in time. He set up a 3^rd party image of a man I had not yet met which would completely set the benchmark for him. I must admit (and here’s the part people won’t like) while others where in awe I sat there perplexed wondering what was so amazing. He had moments of brilliance that I know I can definitely applaud, but in general a lot of what he said was . . . well . . . nothing new to me.

I’m being very candid about this because it is something that I am personally grappling with right now. I know I should be in awe of him, especially because of all the personal sacrifices he made but I can’t seem to draw it out of me. I can’t seem to put him on the pedestal of Walter Sisulu, Joe Slovo, Lilian Ngoyi, Helen Suzman, Oliver Tambo, Albertina Sisulu, Robert Sobukwe, Steve Biko and the list can go on and on. As I was grappling with why I couldn’t put him on that pedestal I realized it was because I could not relate to him. I couldn’t realize that what he fought for was exactly what all my personal heroes fought for. Fighting for the chance to be equal in front of the law and society.

It made me wonder how many other people around the world fought for something quite similar and I don’t know about them. How many other people in the world were beaten to a bloody pulp that I don’t know about? So this blog is dedicated to all those who have ever stood up against an unjust system and haven’t been recognized. All those who have once given up their lives fighting for what they truly believe in and who’s sacrifices made this planet a better place. This blog is to remind all those reading it to acknowledge the sacrifices made by these people and celebrate their lives and contributions regardless of how big or how small it may be.

So for me the question still stands. Who is Congressman John Lewis? I’m not going to pretend to believe and he instrumentally changed the way I see the world. He still (even after meeting him) remains a person that I don’t seem to relate to. A person who I can’t say directly affected my life. A man, who has no sacred place in my heart. He remains solely in my mind as a freedom fighter in a land far from my own.

It’s that last part that I will probably take away from my meeting him. He remains a person who fought for freedom regardless of the peril that laded before him. I can respect those who are freedom fighters regardless of their country or origin. Because when you fight for what’s right, you deserve respect.

So who is Congressman John Lewis to me?

Not a legend, not a man of who has completely changed my life, not a man I would notice walking down the street, not a man who will make me gawk in his presence. Congressman Lewis me is a simple freedom fighter. The greatest breed of humans this planet will ever have.

Follow @kgotsi22

“I don’t know what this Independence is”

We constantly talk about conflict resolution within South Africa, going back and forth, back and forth trying to discern the legacy of our conflict. In a previous blog (An Optimistic generation: A Developing Country marked against Developed Criteria), I mentioned how everything boils back down to race in South Africa with conflict around race quite rightfully included. However, after spending the day with the New Story Leadership (NSL ) group of 10 my whole view conflict has altered.

It’s amazing how quickly we forget our own struggles. We should be grateful that we as the youth in South Africa face intangible conflicts. Conflicts that remain real but remain firmly set (to an extent) rooted within dialogue. That what we discuss hopefully creates a solution for the future. Our constitution guides and defends us against any injustices or threats to our safety and dignity. Our path so far post-1994 has been rocky but far from calamitous.

The NSL programme is different. For those not familiar with the NSL programme it is similar to our own SAWIP structure involving students from both Palestine and Israel] . To discuss conflict while your countries are actively engaged is something that is hard to fathom, yet they deal with this every day. To have direct contrasting ideologies desperately trying to find a middle ground while thousands of kilometers back at home you know of the injustices occurring. Trying to defend your country against a world that doesn’t understand your history and reasoning while onlookers wait abated having their attention pulled away to other matters only to be pulled back in when something happens.

If I ever tried to try and explain their conflict, I would never do it justice. The frustrations that must occur within this group trying to carve out an identity for all of them to follow is something to be respected and reflected upon against your own lives. While we at times fight metaphorical battles. Their battles remain real. While we discuss inequality they discuss (quite freely) that a war between their nations is inevitable, “it almost works in cycles, escalate, and deescalate just to escalate again”.

Celebrating Independence Day with my host family and other Americans in the area made me feel happy for them for all US citizens. It made me remember our own Freedom Day and what it means to me. While embracing the festivities I had a conversation with a Palestinian participant who (like many others from the NSL programme) didn’t seem to be embracing the significance of the day. She ended up telling me something that will probably stick with me forever.

“Kgotsi, I don’t know what this independence is. I don’t know what it feels like. I don’t think I will ever know what it feels like in my lifetime. But I hope that my children do.”[

Following her comment, stunned silence was all I was left with. It was a stark reminder about how ignorant one can be about their situation. Halfway across the world, interning in a federal institution, participating in a life changing SAWIP journey and never for one second did I not feel free. Never did I ever feel like my independence was taken from me. While right in front of me was someone so intelligent, so strong willed, so “independent” yet, she did not know what it meant to be free.

Many of us don’t understand the history, details or dialogue around the conflict happening between Israel and Palestine. Many of us never will. But what I lack in knowledge I have gained in experience. The experience of being around such complex people with views so entrenched in their being, that it becomes hard to separate the Israeli from the Israel or vice versa. Their conflict inspires me to ensure that people realize their independence. That lack of knowledge should not stop you from being free. You should be able to fly halfway across the world and stay true to your cause. Stay true to yourself and fight for what you believe in. Conflict always seems to boil down to trying to identify yourself amongst the crowd and stand tall and proud. Peace though, is the ability to stand tall and proud as a crowd.

Even with their differences the NSL group is one in which thrives off the conflict so that it creates a pathway to peace and stability

Follow @kgotsi22

While listening to a panel discussion about the state of South Africa during the recent Woodrow Wilson event I couldn’t help but think that these world renowned leaders within economics have no clue about what is happening in South Africa. Listening to them set the scene of modern day South Africa made me feel nauseous.

It’s the same old same old story of the outside world projecting a grim view of the future of South Africa. Extreme unemployment running rampant, lack of infrastructure, tight labour laws, rampant poverty etc. seem to be the daily lexicon of outside economists describing South Africa. What many people from the outside fail to realize is that South African’s are not ignorant of their problems. In fact we are probably the foremost experts as well as our own biggest critics.

We haven’t swept the issue under the carpet hoping for it to be forgotten by society. We haven’t tried to hide behind the fact that we are a fairly new country with a constitution that has basically set the gold standard. South African’s know that we are a developing country.

The rest of the world seems to believe that we haven’t broken out of our shells yet, and that we are still in denial standing precariously on the edge. I was in a bookstore yesterday browsing around doing what I do best; reading as much as possible without having to actually pay for a book. I came across a book that told stories about the state of Africa with the foreword by Chinua Achebe but written by an American. My thought process was pretty simple at this stage. Chinua Achebe equals fairly respectable accurate depiction of Africa. As I read through the book and came across South Africa, what I found was utterly disappointing.

South Africa’s political instability threatens to undo the good of its past. Another African miracle looks to be on the horizon.

What could he possibly mean? Just like the outside panelists this author clearly had a single minded view of South Africa and that was it. The nauseating feeling I had while listening to the speakers came back with a vengeance while reading about South Africa. South Africa seems doomed to be constantly compared to first world developed countries even though we still have millions of people with no access to water. Those who criticize South Africa both inside and outside must learn to stop marking South Africa against a rubric for developed countries and Start marking South Africa’s like a developing country. To build an optimistic generation is no easy task. It requires patience, dedication, diligence, will power and the belief from the generation to defend their country when it needs to be defended and acknowledge the faults of the country a faults are apparent.

An optimistic generation is not one in which the standards are set by those who know nothing about the country. It is a generation that is willing to set its own standards because we know our country best. We know what’s needed and we are willing to improve our country.

I bear no ill will on the panelists. But I just wish people would do their homework more and appreciate just how wonderful our country is, defects and all.

It’s all black and white. You either choose to use the race card or you don’t. Whether you use it to describe the bad service you receive at a restaurant or whether you refuse to use it for your university application. Race has become so interwoven within South Africa’s social fibre that it almost impossible to avoid.

Post-Apartheid rhetoric centre’s around the idea of how the injustices of the past require us to use race as way to liberate the futures of millions. That without intervention that remains racially based inequality will continue to strive dividing our country further and further. As someone born into the country without experiencing Apartheid at a direct level, I find myself (quite often) at odds with the idea of defining myself through my race. (This is far from a new concept for many young South Africans in my position.) One has to realise the affects the past has had on the majority of people. But this blog isn’t about past injustices made right. This blog is about everything being about race in our country.

If someone treats you badly most people’s first assumption is that it was racially motivated. Whether consciously on sub-consciously that person had it out for you and should be labelled with the racist hash tag with every comment that he (/she . . . . a blog over politically correct sexism will come soon enough) makes. Conversations become fuelled by it from political heavyweights, constantly repeated by mass media that use it as their go to money making article and regurgitated over and over again at grassroots level by those who feel the most animosity to those perceived as racist.

Racial divides are no longer clearly divided by different races anymore. Racial comments have found their way within races and especially within the black majority of the country. The white community has been fighting this issue for years now; ensuring that they don’t associate themselves with those “racist whites”. The class divide within the black community has led to blacks choosing not to identify themselves with “racist blacks”. Seemingly looking down on those with a different view of what racist is or isn’t. But what if a comment/action is not racist but just boils down to someone not agreeing with another person’s views.

South Africa is coming out of their honeymoon period from Apartheid but we are still walking straight into that awkward stage of a relationship. That stage where you are really trying to find out where you stand with your significant other. That stage where you are not locking your door at a traffic light because the person walking towards you is black but because you in a high hijacking zone and the person just looks suspicious. It’s a very fine line that we have begun to walk. A fine line I believe leads to what developed countries describe as political correctness.

But should we take apart our racial fences? Stop dealing the racial card? What if the issue is generally racist, but my white friends don’t think it is? Does that mean they agree with the other person and therefore they are racist and I should stay far away from them interacting with only judgmental eyes? Or do they agree the issue is wrong but isn’t necessarily racist. The whole spear of the nation ordeal puts this issue in plain sight. Maybe my view of what racist is the real issue. But I didn’t view the picture as racist at all and was quite surprised to see people wielding the race card almost like was Excalibur freeing the nation of those racist upper echelons of society.

Another example is the statements on Facebook that read:

“A black child’s inability to be proud of their fellow black peer’s achievements is disgusting and appalling”

If I was of another race and disagreed with that statement would that make me racist? Would he view me as racist? Would others think I’m insensitive? Then I thought to myself, was it really necessary to make this a race issue.

Our countries issues will remain centred on race for quite a while but cracks are forming creating awkward chasms within our social fibre. So like any relationship, before we transcend the boundaries of race within our country we need to experience the awkward teething stages that come with it. Should we develop our own sense of politically correct terms? Should we be able to express ourselves and not have our views be interpreted as racially motivated? Should the race card still be used as the Excalibur of our nation to fight the injustice of the past or should it be placed back in its stone during our countries time of peace.

So always knew I would post this poem up at some point. But thought I should do it now. Its more of a feminine poem but I love it nonetheless. It really epitomises how complicated the simplest thing can be. How we perceive ourselves and others in various hands. The listening to it is much better than reading it but here you go.

HANDS

"People used to tell me that I had beautiful hands.Told me so often infact that one day I started to believe them, until I asked my photographer father 'hey daddy could I be a hand model?', to which he said 'no way'.

I don't remember the reason he gave me, and I would've been upset but there were far too many stuffed animals to hold, too many homework assignments to write, too many boys to wave at, too many years to grow.

We used to have a game, my dad and I, about holding hands. Cos we held hands everywhere. And every time either he or I would whisper a great big number to the other, pretending that we were keeping track of how many times we had held hands. That we were sure this one had to be 8, 002, 753.

Hands learn more then minds do. Hands learn to hold other hands. How to grip pencils and mould poetry. How to tickle piano keys, dribble basketballs and grip the handles of a bicycle. How to hold old people and touch babies. I love hands like I love people. They are the maps and compasses with which we navigate our way through life. Some people read palms to tell you your future, but I read hands to tell your past. Each scar makes a story worth telling. Each callused palm each cracked knuckle a missed punch or years working in a factory.Now I've seen middle eastern hands clenched in middle eastern fists, pounding against each other like Each country sees their fists like warriors and enemies. Even if fists alone are only hands.

But this is not about politics, no hands are not about politics. This is a poem about hands, and fingers. Fingers interlock like a beautiful zipper of prayer. One time I grabbed my dad's hand so that our fingers interlocked perfectly. But he changed position saying "no, that hand hold is for your mom!". Kids high-five but grown ups shake hands. You need a firm handshake, but don't hold on too tight, but don't let go too soon, but don't hold on for too long. Hands are not about politics.

When did it become so complicated? I always thought it was so simple. The other day my Dad looked at my hands as if seeing them for the first time and with laughter behind his eyelids, and with all the seriousness a man of his humour could muster he said "you know you've got nice hands, you could've been a hand model!"."

- SARAH KAY

I recently attended a speech by a prominent South African political leader, Ronald Lamola, about the future of the youth in the country. Lamola is the current Deputy President of the African National Congress Youth League (ANCYL) and because of my position within the South African Students Congress (SASCO) at UCT as well as an ANCYL member, his speech held a lot of relevance to me and my branch.

He represented all that is the ANCYL right now, exuding bravado, confidence, sway, populism and all other current ANCYL trademarks. Even from afar he still managed to show off his presence, demanding respect from all those around him. He is the people’s choice. Or second choice, depending on how you view South African politics.

There is no denying that there are underlying tensions within our society especially within the youth. The inequality within the country seems to be perpetuating itself relentlessly as the youth naturally take the largest hit. The youth are looking for someone to champion their cause, someone to be their voice to the powers that be. The ANCYL, championing economic freedom for the youth within their lifetime.

As a member (“in good standing” as many would add on) of the ANCYL, I hold pride in respecting those elected into leadership. However, whlist listening to the Lamola, it was evident that respect should not allow one to ignore his/her own feelings on a matter. Especially if those feelings centre on whether one should decide what the speaker is saying as right or wrong.

Lamola pointed out many hard and relevant “facts” about the state of our country, many of which I whole-heartedly agree with. Issues such as inequality within society, lack of transformation within the economy perpetuating the gap between the rich and poor. A statement that particularly struck me was when he said that sports cannot be the only thing that will unite a country such as South Africa; the only thing that will unite us is economic freedom.

Clearly well versed in the art of persuading a crowd towards his views there was an underlying theme within his speech that struck me as unacceptable. His continued reflection of society being one in which the white population continually takes away from the black population, a society that will only be free when black people take from white people. The repetitive nature in which he jovially claimed that white people remain the root cause of all problems within our society is one that worried me as well as deeply saddened me.

To have someone in such a high position within our organisation continually trivialise our struggle against inequality, unemployment and poverty to mere race is regrettable. Achieving economic freedom within our country has and will always be a complex matter. It is not one in which a simple solution will produce a simple end product. Lamola’s utterances should not be plainly accepted by the youth of South Africa.

With the end of Apartheid came the universal call from all people, that what transpired during those years should never happen again. Our society should build towards addressing the injustices of the past. Those without the means should be given the means. Those disadvantaged by the past should be allowed to compete equally with those who have been advantaged by the past. Our society is one already built on inequality. We should not make it one built on fear as well.

My respect for my ANCYL leaders remains intact, but far from certain. A lesson learnt this week is that sometimes those who lead you are not necessarily leading down the right path. Respect your leaders, but respect your feelings, thoughts and opinions more. Cherish them, because sometimes when you are being led astray those same feelings, thoughts and opinions will place you back on the right path.

Kgotsi Chikane

Music Cures the Common Cold.

Yesterday I spoke in front of 30 people. Far from a large number but a number nonetheless, because sometimes you have to take what you can get. I remember while I was writing up my speech earlier in the day, I thought this could be either terribly ironic or extremely powerful if done right. I wanted to speak about student apathy, particularly student apathy in my institution.

Clearly, speaking in front of 30 people (which is a tiny drop from an expected crowd of 200) made the entire planned speech slightly ironic. In the moment, I decided to trash the speech and compare student apathy to the common cold. I started explaining how it spreads quickly and spreads without remorse. Infecting all those who come across its path with such ease and arrogance. It is passed on from person to person quite easily. In fact, you do not even have to touch a person to become infected. That person’s mere presence with the cold can leave an imprint on you.

Student apathy is like the common cold because even though most people know it is miserable, nothing of use will be gained from it and should be dealt with before it gets worse. Most people are willing to wait it out than to engage with it. Leave it be because it is going to be gone in a day or two anyway.Student apathy behaves just like the common cold. Infecting and spreading with most people deciding that it’s easier to deal with it than to tackle it head on. Instead of protecting yourself with any army of Pando’s, Disprins or Grandpa’s we ignore the problem and let it slide. Accept our fate and the hand dealt to us by society.

While speaking to the students about student apathy I noticed something quite profound. Instead of the yawns and sighs, I was expecting; they were listening. Not just listening but paying attention to every word that I was saying (or babbling depending on whose side of the fence you are on). I felt like the conductor of the orchestra swaying them left and right mentioning a phrase and watching them get excited. Moving my subject matter into the depths of my Apartheid knowledge, I lowered the tone of the room to a sombre harmony as I dealt with civil society’s rebellion against the system. How students should be able to mimic and ever better the civil movement of the 1980’s. When the symphony had died down and the violins had been packed away; trombones stored for the next chance to engage with people...the world ready to come back to the state it was in before the commotion. There was no applause, cheers, roses thrown onto the stage. There was no call for an encore from the crowd. All that was left behind once the music had gone were those same 30 people sitting in silence. As I took my seat and let the meeting continue. I felt pleased with what I had achieved. The message had been passed on. 30 people heard what I had to say and there was not a single sniffle to be heard from the crowd. No sneezing, coughing or heaving. The only sound coming from the room where the sounds of people tapping their feet to a beat.