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This is a copy of the speech that I delivered at the Donald M Payne Congressional Forum.

Goeie naand dames en here. (Afrkaans for Good evening ladies and gentlemen)

My name is Phillip van der Merwe and I am an African. I stand here before you tonight truly humbled and truly excited. Humbled because this opportunity is something I never would have dreamed about and excited because it allows me to dream even bigger.

I grew up in the leafy suburbs of our capital city, Pretoria. A place where people walk their Labradors on broad sidewalks of neatly cut grass and children play cricket in their backyards and scream in joy as they jump into swimming pools in the summer. My life has been sheltered and privileged and I could easily not have had any reason to pursue a change of the status quo.

But I do.

A small black Ndebele woman with a kind face and a big heart entered our house in 1990, the year in which I was born. Her name was Lena Msiza. Lena bathed me, fed me, walked me to school and became my second mother. She became part of my family and she taught me about love and kindness and respect. She came from a Township called Mamelodi just north of Pretoria and she is the reason that I applied for the South African Washington International Programme (SAWIP).

This is because every Monday morning when she arrived at my house after an hour-long commute in a cramped minibus taxi, I started to be aware that over the walls and electric fences that protect the palaces of the suburbs there are sprawling townships where indigent South Africans have little defense against disease, crime and weather. When I was just a little boy and her son came over to play, I began to understand that there were children in many parts of South Africa that don’t have the opportunity to go to school. When she couldn’t help me with my reading homework I was reminded of the good people of my country that are illiterate because of apartheid policies. She made the realities of South Africa real for me and she made me want to change things.

Because, as Nelson Mandela rightly described, while the transition to democracy was a mammoth stride towards freedom in South Africa, it didn’t remove the inequalities that were created by apartheid. As he said:

“A simple vote, without food, shelter and health care is… to create an appearance of equality and justice, while by implication socio-economic inequality is entrenched. We do not want freedom without bread, nor do we want bread without freedom. We must provide for all the fundamental rights and freedoms associated with a democratic society.”

Changing things to do this, however, is easier said than done, and when you are constantly bombarded by news of poverty and governmental mismanagement it’s easy to get disillusioned with your ability to make a difference. It makes you want to stay on the beaten track, get a mundane job and hold on to the little bit of individual prosperity that you can manage for fear of losing your position in the middle class. It makes you want to give up.

But that is not the African way. And that’s what Lena taught me. She taught me that it’s not only the political giants and captains of industry that need to work to make communities better but also ordinary people across South Africa.

So when I applied for SAWIP I knew I wanted to help families like Lena’s, where a dozen children and young adults were dependent on financial support from one 60 year-old domestic worker. I knew I wanted to live in a South Africa where freedom came with bread. I knew I wanted to live in a South Africa where everyone could aspire to happiness – where my house in the suburbs wasn’t just a place where your mom cooks and cleans but a place where you too could live and raise a family.

A funny thing happens when you put 15 passionate young South Africans on a plane and send them to a city halfway across the world for 6 weeks and have them meet with extraordinary people. As my fellow team members can attest to, you find yourself talking less about the latest pop culture and more about the issues that affect your country. You start thinking less about the problems in South Africa and more about the solutions. You stop giving up and you start dreaming bigger. You realise that you possess something that could potentially change the world.

And that something could be something as simple as being young. Because when you realise that you are young and that you don’t have to be fast-tracked to be the next senior partner at a large law firm, you know that you can fall and get up again. When you realise that you’re allowed to fail you stop looking for risks and start looking for opportunities.

I believe that all of us that are part of the SAWIP team of 2013 will contribute to a South Africa where freedom comes not just with bread but also with access to quality education and dignified health care. And as the part of our journey in the land of opportunity comes to an end, I believe that we can start another journey in our own land of opportunity.

Because in the words of former president Thabo Mbeki, today is a good day to be an African.

This is the second in a series of blogs telling the story of my South African housekeeper who I treated as a mother. The story has developed beyond expectation.

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4.

Eventually I was old enough to walk to school by myself, and I no longer saw these familiar faces every day. When I did see them I would greet them and they would shake their heads in disbelief as to how quickly I was growing. “How is Lena?” they would ask earnestly, “Tell her we must have some tea.” Lena had a way of crawling into people’s hearts. She was patient and honest. She wasn’t bitter about the life apartheid South Africa had forced her into – after all she knew nothing of politics and didn’t believe that she could ever change the ways of the world.

When I reached home from the walk back from school I would call Lena’s name at the top of my voice when I entered the house. She would inevitably be cleaning in the kitchen after just having made lunch. On cloudy days with summer afternoon thunderstorms there would be freshly made pancake batter ready to bake. She would make the pancakes and when I was still young she would grant me the task of lifting the lid from the stack of finished pancakes so that she could place the next one on top. I would peer over the counter and watch how she carefully poured the batter into the pan, carefully twisting it so as to cover the entire surface area with an even coating, and watching it start to bubble as it baked through. When the pancake was done I would stand on my tiptoes and lift the lid, observing Lena’s face for a smile signaling that I had done well.

I can still smell the food that she made for lunch for my brother and I. French toast with All Gold tomato sauce and cheddar cheese, boiled eggs, baked beans in tomato sauce, fresh buns with a thick spread of butter, tomato, lettuce and pepper ham, and my favourite, pap en vleis. Eventually my mother intervened and said we had it too easy by having Lena make food for us and told us we were old enough to make our own food. My brother and I accepted this but Lena would still make an extra helping of pap en vleis when she made it for our gardener, Obet, on Thursdays and pancakes on a cloudy day remained a tradition.

When I was sick and had to stay home she would bring toast and a boiled egg to my room with fresh orange juice. I never asked for food in bed but she felt that it was her duty to make sure I’d get better and she thought of me as her own son.

5.

When I went to High School I only came home in the late afternoon after either sport, or music lessons and would only see her then. My mother adjusted her working day so as to start at 7AM and end at 3PM so that she could fetch us after school and whatever extra-mural activity that took place after school. How ever tired I was and whatever mood my teen age caused, I would walk in by the back door and give Lena a big hug as she was standing by the sink, washing up.

It didn’t take long for me to grow taller than Lena and when I was especially jolly in the afternoon I would grab her and do a mock dance in the kitchen causing chaos and excitement amongst our dogs. She would be embarrassed and my mom would laugh saying, “what are we going to do with this child?” Lena would laugh also but hurry back to wash as if she felt it wrong to have fun in front of her miesies. In any case, she carried on washing with a smile on her face.

She relaxed as years went by, perhaps because she knew that we thought of her as family. My mother and Lena would have conversations as I made tea for us three shortly after our return from school and work. My mother would enquire about the state of Lena’s family, who we had gotten to know very well over the years, and lament the actions of the ANC government. Lena didn’t know about politics – she had only voted once (in 1994) before being discouraged by the lack of change that she experienced as a newly free citizen – so she simply accepted my mother’s views. It wasn’t that she was disinterested in talking about government but rather that she honestly believed that we were explaining the true state of affairs on a subject that she knew nothing about.

After my mother’s sister left to the USA and my grandmother passed my mother attached more and more value to these afternoon conversations with Lena. Topics, often led by the front page of the Pretoria News, would range from us children, to Mandela, to the ever-increasing price of petrol and news of distantly related family members and my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s disease. Lena was definitely the passive side to these conversations but enjoyed them nonetheless.

6.

When I finished high school I decided to leave Gauteng to study in Stellenbosch, some 1500 kilometers away from Pretoria. Lena, now in her late fifties, said she would have to retire if I’m not going to be at home anymore. I convinced her that I would come home three times a year and that there would be plenty of time for her to see me. She agreed to stay on, partly because of my convincing and partly because she had an extended family to feed.

I was wrong though. I spent drastically less time with Lena than before. When I got home I prioritized seeing my friends above spending days with Lena. I still got to do a lot with her though.

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Each holiday, on the morning of the day after I got back from the Western Cape I would make tea and sit down and talk with Lena. We would have the rusks that she had freshly baked the previous day, anticipating my arrival.

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This is the first of a series of blogs telling the story of my housekeeper in South Africa that was as a mother to me. The story has developed beyond expectation.

It’s strange how many times I’ve written an introductory sentence to this blog and deleted it. Even now I’m editing the words so that I feel that I’m expressing myself clearly and without pretense. This inefficiency exists, I think, not because I don’t know what to say but because I don’t know how to say it. It is a monumental task writing about someone that deserves only the best reflection of her life.

I would like to tell a story of a person that I can barely get myself to think about, so raw is the emotion that has followed me since her death in January of this year.

1.

Lena Msiza was an Ndebele woman from what is now the Limpopo province in northern South Africa. Her name is spelt “Linah” in her ID book but we always called her Lena – with a long, low “e”. She didn’t mind. Perhaps because she felt that she wasn’t in a position to correct her employers or perhaps because her faith in the educated was compelled by her illiteracy. Her full name was Fadoka Linah Msiza but to us she was always Lena. Liewe Lena.

She was married to Simon Msiza, her only husband but not the father of her two children, Sarah and Sipho. Simon was a protective man. Until I was about 15 he would come over every evening to our house in the suburbs of Pretoria where he would sleep in Lena’s room outside in our backyard. My parents accepted this arrangement and equipped the room with its own bathroom, shower, kitchenette and double bed. He didn’t like the fact that Lena didn’t sleep at their home in Mamelodi during the week but after he stopped working as a motorcycle deliveryman for a local pharmacy, Lena’s salary was the only income for their household.

Besides Lena’s two children, Simon had three daughters from a previous marriage that stayed in their small brick house in Mamelodi East, a township on the fringes of the city. Their house also played host to numerous grandchildren, an orphan girl that Lena took care of and frequent visits by indigent family members.

Sipho is about four years my senior and him and I would play in the garden when he came to visit every school holiday until I was about 12. I don’t know why he stopped coming by so often. I don't know whether I started going out more or playing computer games that he couldn’t relate to or understand or whether he started to feel embarrassed as he began to grasp the vast social difference between himself and the boy who lived in sleepy Jacaranda-lined suburbs in a house bigger than any of those in his area and where a man who was culturally his senior was cleaning the pool while he frolicked with me in the garden. Not to mention that his mother washed my clothes and cooked my food.

Sipho could never complete high school. My mother signed him up for extra courses at the University of Pretoria to try to bridge the gap caused by generations of educational exclusion under apartheid but that effort proved wanting. The world into which he was born would simply not allow him to broaden his intellectual horizons.

Sarah completed High School. She is about 8 years older than me and has always expressed the desire to act independently. She started working as a till-person at Shoprite after high school and moved up the ranks relatively quickly. She progressed to be a type of floor manager and eventually got Sipho a job as a packer. She was quick to have children after school but remained steadfast in her ambition. She married an honest and principled man who works as a security guard and together they now have three children.

2.

Lena started working at, or rather with, the Van der Merwe’s in 1989 – the year my brother was adopted and about 10 months before I was born. She started out doing only ironing but eventually moved in to stay at our house during the week and go home for Saturday and Sunday.

She had to catch a minibus taxi from her home that dropped her off about five blocks away and she then walked the rest of the way to our home. She would arrive at around 07:00AM on a Monday and depart at around 11:00AM each Saturday. She had her own keys to our house and I would anticipate our dogs getting up from the kitchen floor, while we were having cereal before school, to run and greet Lena as she carefully opened the gate as if not to intrude on our privacy or perhaps because it was too heavy.

In the chaos that was present as my mother tried to herd two young boys, and later and additional sister, through the stages of preparation for school, Lena would quietly walk to her room in our backyard. She would always walk around the house and never through it, along a narrow ally between the west side of our house and the, then, prefabricated concrete wall separating our property from our western neighbours. She would walk slowly but as fast as she could go on her small feet while being increasingly apprehensive as the years went by of being toppled by the big dogs’ commotion, as they circled her in their excitement to see her.

She was a small woman, with short legs but definitely with what Alexander McCall-Smith would describe as a “traditional build”. She had high cheekbones that were very pronounced. It always looked as if she were smiling. In fact, even though I know that there were times when she got frustrated with me, I cannot recall that she ever looked mad.

Her skin was smooth dark brown and her face never had a wrinkle on it, even until just before the chronic stage of her cancer. She would always arrive looking beautiful and professional. In winter she would wear a dress with a petticoat under it, with a blanket covering her shoulders held in place by a broach undoubtedly given to her by one of my grandmothers. She would wear a hat over her doek, also almost always handed down from the oumas and made of faux fur. She didn’t wear jewelry, except a copper bangle tightly fitted around her right wrist that would stain her skin a dark green as it oxidised. She later started wearing more bangles of different varieties and with more lustre. Perhaps this was because these bangles became cheaper as our markets opened to the east or perhaps it was because her daughter could later hand-down bangles to her as well. Perhaps it was because she felt that she finally deserved something to make her look pretty, that for her years of hard work she earned the right to treat herself to jewelry that drew more attention than faded copper.

In the summer she would wear similar traveling clothes, lighter in weight but still necessary to fight off the early morning nippiness that is present when she had to leave her house at five in the morning, even in the summertime. She would get changed as soon as she got to our house, trading her dress for an overall and a doek. They were always matching and smelt clean and of Stasoft and when I got scared of thunder or strangers working in the house I would grab the side of her overall dress and hide behind her, as if she could save me from any danger.

3.

Before I went to primary school I would spend every week day with Lena and sob when she left for home on Saturdays. I can’t remember much of that time but the image presents itself in my mind when I think of those days is me sitting on the concrete steps of Lena’s room in the brilliant sunshine with our Doberman-Rottweiler cross Boesman lying next to me while Lena hung the clothes on the washing line that was almost out of her reach. I could speak fluent Ndebele and ate pap en vleis with Lena every day on the brick steps next to our garage. We would eat with our hands, take a big bite of bread and follow it with a gulp of warm sugary tea. She was peaceful. Never rushed nor short of time. I cried the day I was informed that I was old enough to go to pre-primary school and would have to leave Lena during the day.

Up until I was about in grade 3, Lena would walk me to school and fetch me in the afternoon. My brother accompanied us but he changed schools when I finished grade one and he didn’t enjoy walking with us much. I loved walking with Lena. I would hold her small cold plump hands all the way there and back. They were soft on the outside but her palms were worn and course from doing housework since she was just a girl.

Lena would greet the other domestic workers and gardeners that we passed on the short journey to Brooklyn Pre-Primary School about three blocks away from my home. They would smile at her and she would comment on how old I was getting in the mixture of languages spoken by the diverse black population in Pretoria. As I learnt English I forgot Ndebele and later I didn’t keep quiet because I was embarrassed of Lena’s praise of me but because I could no longer understand what the strangers were saying.

I knew all the domestic workers in my street and when I started going to primary school I got to get to know the groundsmen as well. Anna would always walk pass us on our way home as she took the toddler of her house for a walk. Ishmail was a young groundsman at Brooklyn Primary School and occasionally sold a mielie to Lena from his small crop next to his living quarters on the school property.

On the 20^th of June some of the SAWIP group (those of us lucky enough to get off of work) attended a symposium on innovation and business opportunity in South Africa jointly hosted by the Ministry of Science and Technology, the South African Embassy in Washington and Brand South Africa. Minister Derek Hanekom delivered the keynote address while Dr. Bernie Fanaroff, director of the project, gave detail on the SKA-Africa project that was awarded to South Africa in 2012.

The SKA project is massive. The brochure handed out at the event mentioned things like: “The data collected by the SKA
in a 24-hour period, would take nearly two million years to play back on an iPod.” and: “The aperture arrays will produce more than 100 times the current global Internet traffic.” That amount of data is unheard of. It will take strides in innovation, research and infrastructure development in order to accommodate that kind of traffic.

The acronym SKA stands for “Square Kilometer Array”. That refers to the fact that the project will consist of thousands of antennas that will have the combined surface area of a square kilometer. That’s about four times the surface area of Greenpoint Stadium. Except that these antennas won’t be concentrated in one place but rather be spread across South Africa, Australia and 8 other African countries. It will be the biggest telescope (system) that the world has ever seen. By far.

As I am quite interested in astronomy and technology, I lapped up the presentation that included details of the specific technology to be used and the inner-workings of the telescope. That being said, the most interesting outcome of my attendance was not being lectured on science and technology but gaining some insight into the South African government’s understanding and view of innovation.

Ambassador Rasool commented that innovation for the government is not only finding better ways to do things but also to find new ways to inspire people – the private sector – to innovate. I realised that inspiration is something that you must work on. It is not something that can be conjured up by reciting clichéd quotes, presenting statistics in a favourable light or using catch phrases. It more often comes tacitly from those who work hard to change their realities – where inspiration is not the end in itself.

A useful model to conceptualise the manifestation of innovation was presented by Mr. Hanekom who explained that innovation occurs in a kind of hierarchy, or triangle, with high-level, high-cost innovation used to solve complex problems and more basic, low-cost innovation used to solve more basic problems. The basic innovation occurs often while complex innovation presents itself more rarely. The important thing to note was that the returns or economic benefit of innovation is not necessarily connected to whether it is complex or basic – at the end of the day all innovation involves good ideas to do things differently.

Mr. Rasool explained that government was well aware that the level of innovation is connected to government’s support of small businesses and noted that “We (government) must build on the our capacity to support small businesses.” To this end the government has established the Technology Innovation Agency that will provide financial support for technology start-ups.

The purpose of the symposium was of course to market South Africa and draw investors to the rainbow nation. Mr. Hanekom remarked that a recent McKinsey report that showed that developing countries hold the highest return for investors (one would hope so given the high risk). What stood out from this background was that Dr. Fanaroff was adamant to present South Africa not just as a market, but also as a partner.

Dr. Fanaroff explained that when the SKA association of countries first convened, South Africa was not a part of the group but realised that the right conditions existed in the karoo to achieve the goals of the project. The opportunity that South Africa first saw was therefore as a kind of third party – simply the landlord who collects rent for hosting the international community’s astronomy offices.

As they learnt more about the opportunities that the project presented they realised that this was too big a ship to miss and decided to go for the jugular – to independently host and operate this globally funded initiative. In true South African spirit the smallest team out of all those bidding caught up 4 years of knowledge that the others had by virtue of their early involvement. They eventually passed them in expertise and were heralded by the international community as the best team in the world. Not only did they find a way to show that it is possible to operate something of the complexity and scale of the SKA but they made the world believe that South Africa was the best place to do it!

This story is perhaps the most inspiring of its decade. We have to move towards being a knowledge-driven economy and to do that we have to catch up with the rest of the world. India, South East Asia, China and South America are all looking to be hubs for technology and innovation and its encouraging to see a government-backed initiative that went out to prove we can do something that many wouldn’t think we could and that we will have to work hard to achieve.

Although the hard work lies ahead for this project, the bidding process is over and it’s fate is solely in our hands. It got me wondering what lies ahead for the Department of Science and Technology. I asked the director of the Department, Dr. Phil Mjwara, what was next and the audacity and confidence of his answer took me aback – a South African Aeronautics and Space Administration. I’ll explain why but that’s a topic for another blog.

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On the 25th of June the SAWIP organisation, in collaboration with the Woodrow Wilson Center in Washington D.C., hosted an event at the Center under the theme: Driving the African Century: Youth, Technology and Entrepreneurship. As part of the day’s events, four panel discussions were organised to discuss this theme within the various fields of expertise of each group of panelists. Notably two SAWIP alumni, Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh and Erik de Ridder, formed part of a discussion with venture capitalists and impact investors. Perhaps the most inspirational panel discussion was between Mr. Tom Wheeler, Mr. Andile Ngcaba and Mr. David Frankel.

The latter two panelists are South African entrepreneurs who have started lucrative businesses in our country, the African continent and abroad. They mentioned that while they were business partners a few years back, they launched the New Dawn satellite together. Amongst other things, Mr. Ngcaba holds a directorship at Dimension Data and is involved in communication infrastructure expansion in Africa. Mr. Franken has been involved in all kinds of technology-focused entrepreneurship. One of his most recent ventures is a taxi cab company called “uber” – a cab system paired with a smart-phone app that shows how close you are to their cabs, how long you might be expected to wait, what fare you might expect to pay and has the ability of calling one at the push of a button.

Here are some remarks that stood out from the conversation:

Don't fear failure – embrace it.

We’ve all heard this one before but we are quick to forget what it means. The companies in Silicon Valley don’t give up when no one buys their product or signs up to their service – they learn and adapt. Even if you are in a worse position than before, giving up won’t get you out of it. Google has just launched internet-transmitting weather balloons (under the aptly named Project Loon). This kind of risk wouldn’t have been taken if Google discounted the impact that it could have on the basis of its eccentricity. We are often dismayed by the lack of incentives government creates to promote entrepreneurship but reducing risk completely doesn’t promote innovation but rather detracts from it.

Progress isn’t made when you embrace the status quo.

We can all sit back, achieve the best results within the already-established structures available to those fortunate enough to have degrees and lament the failures of the ANC and the DA and how South Africa isn’t meeting its potential or we can establish new structures and move the country forward.

Look to data – its everywhere.

Every single sector in every economy uses data in some way and to some extent and therefore stands to benefit if this data can be managed more effectively. Whether it be for the purposes of calculating risks, forming customer profiles, understanding needs or delivering government services, data is collected by organisations around the world every day. The amount of data collected is increasing rapidly. Mr. Ngcaba noted that the real challenge would be dealing with the looming “avalanche” of data likely to be created in the next few years by non-human input. He’s talking about data created by sensors, monitors and other machines; data that doesn’t need to be typed out or selected by a human being. Analysing data provides one with a better understanding of the market and organisations will be prepared to pay a premium to know what that data says.

Remove getting a job from your mind.

“Jobs have a way of putting people in boxes and people don’t get the best ideas when they’re in boxes.” Mr. Ngcaba finally provided some clarity to what many of the SAWIP class was already thinking. Getting a well-paid job and settling down, however beneficial it may be, is embracing the status quo. The incremental raise offered once every two years and having a higher title once every 5 years is just enough to keep you hooked to life in the suburbs with 2.4 children and an Audi A4. It doesn’t change lives.

If these ideas sound naïve and misplaced I expect that there will be more than thirty candles on your next birthday cake. The greatest thing about being young is that you don’t have to have a laid out path to success – you can choose your direction as you go along. The old adage goes "Walk as far as you can see, when you get there you’ll be able to see further". Right now my vision is 20/20.

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There have been many commentaries about the American culture in the blogs posted in recent weeks. I would like to carry on that theme but focus on what I miss about South Africa.

1. Slacks

In Washington D.C. there can be 40-degree heat (celcius) and people still head out in jeans and closed shoes. No one wears what they call “slacks”. In South Africa no summer is complete without a good ol’ plakkie tan! I don’t go a day without my havaianas in Stellenbosch during summer.

2. Fresh air

The luxury of having air-conditioning in every building, bus and bar results in no windows ever being open. While this keeps buildings cool and offices quiet, I’m not sure whether it is better than hearing birds chirp and the lively street talk that’s native to the Cape. This also has the obviously unintended effect of making any time spent outside feel like a walk on the surface of the sun. A walk from building to metro turns into a game of hopscotch between air-conditioned Starbucks coffee shops until there is reprieve on the train.

3. Milk

I’m not sure whether the dairy cow exists in the USA. Instead of the standard blue Clover 2 liter I was greeted by a thousand plastic mini-pots full of an unknown white substance referred to as “half-n-half”. If half-n-half is not your preference then you can have creamer, which unlike Creamora, comes in liquid form and is always flavoured. More shockingly creamer contains not even an udders-shot of milk.

4. J-walking

Obviously I’m well aware of the dangers of crossing the road at any place where cars aren’t explicitly told to stop moving, but there’s something that forcing citizens to move according to demarcated geometric routes that makes me feel like I’m in a George Orwell novel. I look left, right and left again so I expect the government to have some faith in my intelligence and if not that, then at least my survival instinct.

5. Laughter

Americans laugh, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something unique about the South African laugh. It's a kind of infectious belly-guffaw that that conjures images of Father Christmas on Christmas Eve or Jacob Zuma at his third wedding. It’s a hearty sincere expression of acceptance and good times that I haven’t seen equaled in the USA. At the very least, it’s better than the expression ‘that’s so funny!’.

You’re told you’ll miss the biltong, milk tart and Mrs. Balls but you really miss the other things. Besides the small life-style differences, what you really miss are the people. You miss your friends and family and the South Africa way of doing things. And at the precipice of receiving news of national importance, you miss being able to discuss and share in that news with those close to you.

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He died twenty-five minutes later. His death left all his country stunned and bewildered as to the direction that this newly independent nation would take without its Great Teacher.

The loss of this great leader brings this country abruptly to a crossroads. Mingled with the sadness in this capital tonight was an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty, for now the strongest influence for peace that this generation has known is gone.

Chilling as they may be, the paragraphs above come from an article that was not reported from Johannesburg but New Delhi. The article was published in The New York Times on January 30, 1948. The death was of a great man, the father of a nation and a symbol of reconciliation, hope and peace – Mahatma Ghandi.

Cecil frustratingly remarked that he has, recently, often been posed the question: is South Africa ready to let Madiba go? He wisely explained that the real question should rather be whether we still believe in his ideals of a reconciled, free and equal Rainbow Nation and whether South Africa will continue to strive for those ideals after Nelson Mandela has passed on.

I would change the question slightly.

When Nelson Mandela declined to run for a second term and stepped down as president in 1999 the honeymoon phase of the new democracy was over. A South Africa where all were united behind the goals of freedom, justice and unification slowly crept to a halt. Grabbing your brother and proudly singing the national anthem was now reserved for international sporting events and beer advertisements.

Walking through the streets of Washington DC with Ashley Schneider (the daughter of my host parents), Mario and Saif yesterday I realised that this national pride is something that the USA has to the umpteenth degree. As Saif commented ‘The American Dream’ is truly a national ethos and a kind of paradigm in which everyone can function to the advantage of the country as a whole. At its core it is beautifully simple: everyone is free to achieve upward social mobility through hard work.

The context of our nation precludes this simple approach. For everyone to have equal opportunity in his or her pursuit of happiness, everyone must be on roughly the same footing when the pursuit begins.

Apartheid grossly stunted the upward social mobility of non-whites and the tortoise only wins if the hare doses off. The previously disadvantaged must be advantaged before people can be treated equally in all situations (this is the idea of substantive equality as enshrined in the Constitution – section 9(2)). But one cannot exclusively advantage one group without disadvantaging another – this is known, accepted and provided for in our Constitution. That is the reason why policies such as Affirmative Action and Broad-based Black Economic Empowerment are constitutional.

It is then evident that the South African dream seems to be that everyone is free to achieve upward social mobility through hard work and that because some have to work harder than others, we accept that we first need to reach a level of equality before we can apply sameness of treatment.

However necessary this may be (and believe me it is), this doesn’t sound like a dream right? We need a new dream, and we need a renewed unification of the South African spirit to move our country forward.

My hope is then that when Mr. Mandela moves on, South Africans unite to move the country forward according to his vision and ideals. That we demand leadership that aspires to that of Madiba and that we work as hard to achieve the unified South Africa as he did in his many years of inconceivable sacrifice.

The question to ask is whether South Africans will realise that we have moved away from the path that Madiba intended and whether his death will be able to unite the country behind a South African dream that was universal not so long ago.

The words of former Indian Prime Minister Pandit Nehru are a stark indication of how that nation felt after she lost her perennial father:

"Gandhi has gone out of our lives and there is darkness everywhere. The father of our nation is no more – no longer will we run to him for advice and solace. This is a terrible blow to millions and millions in this country.

"Our light has gone out, but the light that shone in this country was no ordinary light. For a thousand years that light will be seen in this country and the world will see it... Oh, that this has happened to us! There was so much more to do."

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I’m not too worried about experiencing culture shock while I’m in DC. The American culture is so often incorporated into the ‘Western’ part of South African culture that it would be much easier to relate to than say, a culture in the Far East. Mainstream English media is generally from either an English or American perspective and we constantly receive lessons in American history and current affairs simply through the movies that we watch. I’m not saying that I know what Americans are like or that Twilight is a good reflection of the American psyche - all that I’m saying is that the American culture is well advertised throughout the world and especially in South Africa. South Africans have a better idea of the American culture than the cultures of Kyrgyzstan or Bolivia.

I’m more concerned about explaining some of South Africa’s idiosyncrasies.

There are a few minor oddities such as the use of ‘now-now’ instead of ‘later’ (which is just ridiculous really), serving pieces of dried raw meat at social gatherings, snacking on smoked mielies (corn on the cob) that you bought at a traffic light while on your way home from work (this might just be a Gauteng thing), the fact that Ouma rusks has “dip ‘n ouma” as its catchphrase, or that all taxis have white-rimmed tyres (if you know why please tell me).

Then there are slightly more serious quirks in the South African culture. For example, our society generally accepts that you should be able to pay a security guard a few hundred rands a month and then expect him to give up his life to protect his employer’s fortune. But it is accepted nonetheless, and not only that but the private security industry in SA is one of the biggest in the world, with a private security company even protecting the Brooklyn Police Station at a stage not too long ago. As comedian Nick Rabinowitz rightly declared at one of his standup shows: if Lesotho invades, I’m calling ADT.

The only reason for this anomaly is of course the high unemployment rate. US Consul General, Erica Barks-Ruggles recently explained to the SAWIP 2013 team that the most difficult thing for foreigners to South Africa to comprehend is the high unemployment rate. At the height of the Great Depression unemployment in the USA was at around 25%, South Africa’s unemployement rate has been hovering at that level for the last five years. The extended unemployment rate, which includes people who aren’t actively searching for work, is at around 37%. Compare this to the US unemployment of just under 8% and one can understand how it can be difficult to ponder a functioning economy in which a quarter of the workforce are not working at all.

In any other context it might be easier to explain the sprawling presidential quarters of Nkandla, or why an airbase might be hired out for private events – keep that in mind for your 21^st, Jess. I doubt, however, that it would help in explaining how a government can urge foreign countries to boycott their own goods or how those fighting unemployment and causing it, to some degree, are part of an alliance who run the government.

I hope I can do South Africa proud and show the world that South Africa is actually quite a lekker place. Eish.

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I’m part of a pretty awkward generation. With long hair, skinny jeans and ear piercings, you’ll be forgiven for mistaking the sex of a member of Generation Y. There’s no real “cool” anymore. The hipster (it kind of means cool, but it's different) trend has morphed from its established identity as anything that isn’t mainstream to pretty much anything goes. For example, a pair of Nikes won’t be cool if you got them at the Nike Factory Store but the same pair is the epitome of hipster if they were bought at the local thrift shop.

The generation seems to adore anything that is either extreme in its contrast or that is entirely comfortable in its plainness. Your hairstyle will be cool if you spent the better part of your Friday afternoon getting your product to produce and perfecting that Dapper Dan look or, perplexingly, if you put no effort into it at all.

Gen Y is in limbo between retro and recent. You’re cool if you drive a 1984 Volkswagen Beetle but also if you’re the owner of the latest GTI. By all means get an iPhone as long as you get a cover that makes it look like a cassette. The quintessence of technology is a MacBook, but please hide it in a case that makes it look like a 1970’s encyclopaedia. Live in a modern penthouse apartment but remember to have your walls adorned with images of Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn and James Dean.

It’s because of this identity crisis that the current generation is often written off as a bunch of tweeting twerps that haven’t read any pages outside of Facebook. A recent article in Time magazine went as far as describing the latest generation as narcissistic and lazy.

While I sometimes find it challenging not to share these sentiments, I do believe that, for all its oddities, it is this generation that will transform South Africa both economically and socially. You don’t have to look far to find stories of innovation and dedication that cannot but inspire – and this doesn’t even refer to the inspiring stories of SAWIP team members. All over South Africa young leaders are taking ownership of the social inequalities that they’ve inherited and are taking steps to address them.

A group of UCT students recently decided that they weren’t reaching enough students through their tutoring business. The solution? A programme that can be accessed online that presents learners with questions related to their respective subjects that are designed not only to test their knowledge, but also to give their schoolteachers insight into the areas of the subject that the learner doesn’t understand. The programme has been developed and financed by students and their business has sold around 50 licenses to schools in the Western Cape.

Some Stellenbosch students decided a few years ago to form an organisation known as The Dead Parrots. The organisation simply seeks to promote critical dialogue amongst students at Stellenbosch University. Their events on campus have compelled students to re-evaluate their position on various issues including race and gender equality. Most recently they hosted a book launch of radio personality Eusebius McKaiser.

The New Hope Summit, an initiative pushed by Stellenbosch students a few years ago, is currently running in Muizenberg. The Summit is a meeting of student leaders from Universities, Universities of Technology and FET Colleges in the Western Cape where topics such as transformation and expanding the reach of education are discussed and strategies formulated. This year the summit is focusing on a bill of student rights that will hopefully improve tertiary education in the Western Cape.

These initiatives have all been launched to serve a perceived need in society and all have been run in the spirit of making our country better for all who live in it. Most importantly all of these initiatives have sprung out of the minds of some exceptional members of Generation Y.

Somewhere between creating monotonous electronic music and deciding it’s OK for guys to wear pants two sizes too small, Generation Y has decided to take on some of the problems facing our country. The youth of South Africa have announced that they have accepted their role in rebuilding South Africa and shown that they are not just going along for the ride but leading the way. I have hope for my generation.

On Saturday the fourth of May the SAWIP 2013 team visited the Graham and Rhona Beck Skills Centre about 15 kilometers from Robertson on a farm called Madeba. The purpose of our visit was to gain some background on the work that the Skills Centre does and of the community that it serves. This background will help us, the SAWIP 2013 team, to determine how we could serve that community when we get back from Washington DC in July and give us a picture of what the road ahead looks like. The road ahead at this stage looks more like a stretch between Fort Hare and Umtata in the Eastern Cape than a turnpike in the USA. The Head Master of the Langeberg Secondary School in Robertson gave us a presentation on the problems that he faces on a daily basis in improving the lives of his students. He explained that high levels of teenage pregnancy, substance abuse and a high prevalence of Foetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) are symptoms of a community without leadership and ambition. Parent apathy is so widespread that the Head Master noted that he would be lucky to have 25 parents attend a parent-teacher meeting for his 900 students. Broken households, abuse and abandonment really snatch away any opportunities that the children in this community may get to uplift themselves before they are even made aware of them. Some people spend their whole lives without putting a foot outside of Robertson. This fog of disillusionment becomes truly dense when one takes into account that any Further Education and Training (FET) courses that are offered by the college in the area (university education is simply out of reach) are exclusively assessed in English – the community is almost completely Afrikaans-speaking. No one enrolls in FET courses not because they aren’t competent to achieve the substantive requirements of the courses but simply because they aren’t proficient in the compulsory language of assessment. This is a reality of South Africa in 2013! A week ago we celebrated Freedom Day. Drop-outs deal drugs to soon-to-be drop-outs. If you pass grade 12 you’ll most probably not be proficient in English and without the option of studying an FET diploma the only option is joining the saturated unskilled labour market. But keep faith. I’ve always been aware of the presence of these realities. I’ve always known of the gross inequalities that exist in South Africa. These social and economic problems have existed for years; this is not a new phenomenon. But now, through SAWIP, I have the opportunity to help addressing them – and I am not alone. I have the help of fourteen other exceptional young South Africans who share a passion and determination that won’t easily be subdued. The work being done by the Graham and Rhona Beck Skills Centre is taking massive strides in allowing members of the greater Robertson community to take advantage of the freedom of a new South Africa. And there are many other organisations, with the same level of commitment and passion; that share the goal of an equal and prosperous South Africa. The road ahead is long and foggy, not without potholes and the occasional crazy taxi driver, but we’re determined to make it and most importantly – we’ll walk it together.

This being my first blog of the SAWIP programme, I think it would be fitting to give a short introduction to myself for the benefit of those reading this that haven't met me yet. Perhaps I should start with a summary (thanks to my twitter bio) and elaborate: “Law student. Stellenbosch University SRC member. Ever learning, never learned. Full of Love for South Africa and her people” I come from the friendly Jacaranda-lined city of Pretoria. We don’t have a mountain like Cape Town, vineyards like Stellenbosch or a sea that you can surf in (although the artificial waves of SunCity are only three hours away) but we have kind and good-hearted people who work hard to contribute to building a beautiful South Africa – and, when he’s not in Nkandla, J-Z lives there too. I went to the school on the hill, Pretoria Boys High School, which has a unique tradition and a very important part to play in moving our country forward. Pay their website a visit: www.boyshigh.com. After matric, I had the audacious idea of moving 1500 kilometers away from home to study in Stellenbosch. I didn’t know much about the quaint little town, let alone its university; in fact, I had only been to the town once before – in December of my grade 12 year. It was only on 7 January 2009 – two weeks before the University’s year commenced – that it was confirmed that I would move to this strange province that has fynbos instead of acacia trees, and where it rains in the wrong season. The move turned out to be a great success; I have grown immensely and made some of my best friends in this town of oak trees and wine. The strong Afrikaans culture of Stellenbosch has made me better grasp my heritage and make sense of the powerful connection that Afrikaners have with South Africa. I say this because, although my family is Afrikaans and my upbringing was a traditional one in that regard, I attended exclusively English schools up until university with the effect of me identifying with a quasi-English culture for that period. My parents will tell you that the decision to send my brother and I to English schools was in our best interest and that it was taken to ensure we had a diverse upbringing; it promoted our interaction with many cultures that are perhaps not as well represented in exclusively Afrikaans schools. What they perhaps won’t tell you is that it was a difficult decision to make. With Afrikaners on defense just after the change in dispensation, their friends and family weren’t happy with this perceived betrayal of their heritage. Nonetheless, my experience in all my years of schooling was happy and inclusive in the sense that I never doubted that my identity as, first and foremost, a South African. I started studying a rather placid degree in commerce, although my interest perked when I chose to major in economics. After finishing that degree, I moved on to take on the field of law and am currently in my penultimate year of this post-graduate LLB course. I have been involved in many different structures within the University, most-recently as a member of the Students Representative Council. More than that, I’m excited and privileged to be part of the SAWIP 2013 team. There are some pretty amazing South Africans part of it. Some who have, at the drop of a hat, sacrificed a lot to be part of this experience simply because they believe in the value that the programme has in South Africa. I look forward to walking this road with them.