by Justin Foxton | Aug 9, 2014 | Citizen Participation, Leadership, Orphans & Vulnerable Children
On one level – the macro level – poverty would appear to be government’s problem to solve. Of course non-governmental organizations have a significant role to play in the alleviation of poverty, but generally speaking we look to government to solve this issue.
This is of course correct. Government needs to devise and implement strategies that will address widespread poverty in South Africa.
But on another level – the practical, micro level – poverty is a citizen issue. How can it not be when it is literally all around us? For the poor amongst us their lived reality is that life might be sustained by government – just – in the form of a grant, but it can only improve through our actions.
I hear a disillusioned groan. Is placing yet another coin into the outstretched hand of the pauper materially improving her quality of life? Is it altering the overall landscape of poverty? Is going through our wardrobe and donating our used clothes to the poor making any difference – or is it, perhaps, just assuaging our guilt – or worse, providing us with a convenient outlet for our old junk?
I would suggest that – whilst we need to continue to give in this way – we also need to become more creative in how we deal with poverty. We need to ask deeper questions of ourselves and those questions could yield transformative solutions.
Fundamentally the question needs to move beyond; “what do I have in my hands to give?” to the slightly more probing question of; “what do I have in my head and my heart to give?” This takes us beyond placing Band-Aids over suppurating wounds into the realm of achievable, long-term solutions. Let me give you a couple of examples to stir your soul:
Gareth Simpson – LeadSA’s Kwa-Zulu Natal youth hero of the year – was just 13 years old when he came up with an idea that would materially improve the lives of poor children. He was participating in a schools rugby tournament and was shocked by the fact that many of the boys had no rugby boots or – in some cases – jerseys or even rugby balls. His words are telling: “I knew I had to do something but wasn’t sure how to go about it.”
As an aside – how often have you witnessed a need, been moved to do something about it, but talked yourself out of it because you didn’t know where to begin? Gareth gives us a clue as to what to do. He spoke to his parents!
When you get an idea or an impulse to act that is bigger than you are – take it to people you trust; your parents, your spouse, your boss, your pastor – and discuss it with them. I have heard of so many case studies where those people have become partners in making the idea a reality. This was certainly the case for Gareth.
He began to collect second hand rugby boots from the kids at his school. He cleaned them, fixed them up and gave them to boys who needed them. His campaign – Rugby Recycled – was born and to date he has been responsible for providing more than 300 pairs of boots as well as jerseys, shorts and kit bags to schools in KwaMashu and Inanda. Gareth is not solving the macro issue of poverty but he is using what is in his head and his heart to improve the lives of poor kids. What an inspiration.
My second example is of a hero who probably won’t win any awards for what he is doing – but who should. Dr. Kesan Moodley. Dr. Moodley is a top Durban-based dentist. A couple of months back I approached him and asked if he would be willing to treat a youngster I mentor; a poor kid who in 20 years has never had the experience of visiting a dentist and was consequently in much pain. Dr. Moodley agreed without hesitation and over numerous sessions, sorted out the young man’s teeth free of charge.
This would have been a significant contribution in itself but Dr. Moodley went beyond that. We spoke of Bright Stars – the child and youth mentorship programme that The Peace Agency runs. Dr. Moodley offered to treat the kids on the programme who most urgently need dentistry. He sees a few each month – fitting them around his busy schedule, and the lives – not to mention smiles – of these children are being changed forever. Like Gareth, Dr. Moodley is using his passions and his talents to materially improve the quality of life of our nations most needy.
It is easy to become frustrated even exhausted by the grinding poverty that surrounds us. But we need look no further than what gets us out of bed in the morning – and offer that.
Chances are it is just what’s needed.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysen: gang raped, mutilated and murdered
by Justin Foxton | Jun 30, 2014 | Citizen Participation, Leadership
The ‘Eureka’ moments of life – those moments when the clouds part and the sunshine streams through; those moments when we ‘get it’; perhaps even catch a glimpse of the eternal– are infrequent but always extraordinary. In these moments it feels like something falls into place deep within us; like we are found; like life suddenly has new clarity. Sound like I am smoking a little wacky as I write this? Would that it were that simple.
A little while ago a talk by Professor of Practical Theology Wynand de Kock provided me with just such a Eureka moment. It was simple – as such revelations often are – but it gave me great insight into some of my own personal dilemmas and more interestingly into some of the dilemmas of life here in South Africa. The talk was on the concept of ‘spaciousness’.
To summarise in my own terms a spacious person is one that lives with open hands and an open heart; someone who sees the best in others and the world around them; forgives easily; smiles often; someone who is filled with the breath of life; focuses outwards and upwards rather than inwards and downwards; someone who will choose to see the glass half full rather than half empty.
In contrast, an un-spacious person – or if you like a cramped or claustrophobic person – may live with one or more of the following ‘symptoms’: closed; metaphorically – perhaps even physically – out-of-breath; tight; worried; unforgiving; mean; negative; glass-half-empty.
Of course as one digests these too contrasting states one realises that there is something of them both in all of us. The point of the talk was to illustrate how spaciousness – even in the midst of adversity – is a wonderful, life-giving state of being; one that we should all strive for.
Throughout this profound talk I became painfully aware of some areas of personal un-spaciousness. It also caused me to question how spacious or un-spacious we are generally as a people; as a nation.
It is fairly straightforward to note the areas in which we are spacious. These were recently captured in a rich and emotive South African Tourism advertisement that has become an overnight on-line sensation. It tracks the journey of a young British couple touring our country. With exquisitely composed scenes of South African life the advert portrays – even causes the viewer to experience personally – the vast spaciousness of our magnificent land.
The climax of the advert – and an unusual twist in the tail for advertisements in this genre – causes the viewer to reflect on a less obvious spaciousness that epitomises South Africa as much as our wide open spaces. The final shot reveals that the young man walks with the aid of a white cane. He is blind and has fallen in love with the unseen beauty of our country; the feel of the place; the spaciousness.
And how many of us articulate this intangible aspect of South Africa when talking of our country; “South Africa just gets under your skin” or “South Africa is in ones blood.” This is not a patriotic statement. This is something far more poetic than that; it points to the fact that South Africa is an energized and energizing place; its soul is as wide; as spacious as the land itself. Of this we should be extremely proud as it clearly refers to the collective soul of its people.
But what is more challenging for us is that – as with me personally – there are areas in which we are not spacious as South Africans. Recently these areas have come to define our dialogue and how we act or react in different situations.
I see voter apathy as a symptom of un-spaciousness. Think back to the remarkable shots of long snaking queues that were the defining images of the 1994 elections. Did those not fill you with a sense of spaciousness?
Our conversations belie a lack of spaciousness. How often our experiences become defined by the negative: “How was your trip to The Berg?” Answer: “You won’t believe the potholes we had to navigate.”
Racism – which seems to rear its ugly head almost daily at the moment – is simply a lack of openness to others; a lack of spaciousness.
Our adoption rates – just over 1400 children adopted per annum – demonstrate a critical lack of spaciousness.
And some are being stifled over the political future of our country. Just the name Julius Malema often causes shortness of breath. We must stop this. Julius Malema is not a threat to our democracy. He is a necessary ingredient in a flavourful and diverse political potjie.
There are of course other areas we could highlight but the question is this; would we not rather live spacious lives in a spacious land?
I know I would.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysen: gang raped, mutilated and murdered.
by Justin Foxton | May 13, 2014 | Citizen Participation
With elections 2014 done-and-dusted, the question is where to from here? Is it a case of another 5 years of outsourcing the leadership of our nation to often distant, often corrupt, often inept politicians? Is there a role for us citizens to play in determining the next 20 years and beyond? If so what does that role entail?
Exercising our right to vote in elections is fundamental to democracy. But if democracy is to work well what needs to become equally as fundamental is what citizens do between elections. This has become something of a recurring theme of this column and the reason for that is that our relative immaturity as a democracy is being ensured by our between election behavior – not by our election behavior. Put another way, a barometer by which to measure democratic maturity would probably reveal that – voter apathy notwithstanding – we are mature beyond our years from a voting perspective but still fairly immature in terms of how we participate within our democracy between elections.
To blame for this is a lack of knowledge; a lack of education in the workings of democracy. Democracy – like any ideology or practice – needs to be studied, interrogated and internalized. Then it needs to become a lived reality. As South Africans we are lagging behind in terms of a holistic understanding of democracy and in terms of living a lifestyle of democracy.
Referring to a ‘lifestyle of democracy’ may sound like we are talking about a religion or at the very least a set of rules. This is not entirely accurate – although there are certainly elements of this within democracy. What the notion of a lifestyle of democracy should rather lead to – a far more transformative notion than rules and regulations – is that democracy is as much about the responsibilities of citizens as it is about our rights.
You see across the board; poor and rich, urban and rural, young and old we have studied, interrogated and internalized our rights; our right to vote; our right to strike; our right to freedom of speech amongst others. Talk to even the most basically educated man or woman on the street and they are generally able to give you some idea of issues such as fair and unfair dismissal, minimum wages, social grants and maternity leave. This is all good; I am not knocking it for one moment.
However, ask those same people – and indeed the educated – about their democratic responsibilities; reporting crime to the police; upholding the laws of the land; paying taxes and they suddenly become somewhat non-committal. Not only that but they are often unaware that these and other responsibilities are as important as their rights within the framework of democracy. In other words, we understand and defend our rights, but we cherry pick our responsibilities. This is the South African way and it must change.
This permeates into all facets of life in our country. Let me give you a personal for instance: A couple of years ago we sold our second car and I bought a scooter. I am ashamed to admit that for nearly two years I rode my scooter without a license. I justified this to myself on the basis that my license to drive a car would suffice (though I knew full well that this was not the case) and worse still that I would probably never be stopped and asked for my license. Now, bear in mind that I spend a great deal of time pondering, writing and speaking about issues such as democracy, crime and active citizenry. I know how damaging such actions are and yet I found myself guilty of saying what so many of us say: “I’ll never be caught.” We will have matured as a democracy when we begin to say: “Even though I may never be caught – I will still do the right thing.”
Another example was a recent exchange on the Facebook page of a bushveld holiday nature reserve that we visit. A person was enquiring about renting a house within the reserve on a permanent basis. The administrator of the page informed the person that they could do this but they must first apply to the municipality for permanent residency. From the response of the would-be resident you would have sworn she had been instructed to douse herself in benzene and set herself alight. She was spitting mad and ended her tirade with a sentence familiar to most of us South Africans: “Everyone else does it – so why can’t I?” This kind of childlike logic – also so prevalent here in our country – is another major hindrance to the maturing of our democracy.
I recently did my scooter license. It was a bore but it is done. I did it because I know full well that how we live our lives between elections contributes to the future of our democracy – good or bad – and because I – we – have no right to critique the maturity of our democracy if we are actively contributing to its immaturity.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysen: gang raped, mutilated and murdered.
by Justin Foxton | May 5, 2014 | Citizen Participation, Orphans & Vulnerable Children
Last week I had a fascinating exchange with a 5 year old. Now in my experience 5 year olds generally provide one with amusing dinner party material as they are unencumbered by social graces or political correctness. They say what they mean and they mean what they say. Like the little girl who looked at her Mum examining her dressed-and-ready-for-work self in the mirror and asked; “why does your bum look so big Mum?” Or when the Grade R class was asked what their Daddy’s did and one child shouted out proudly; “he watches TV all day”.
Now this particular exchange happened whilst I was out shopping for a birthday present for my wife with our 3 year old daughter. We were browsing around a mall when in walked said 5 year old with his Mum. Without missing a beat he headed straight for Lolly and I and blurted out loudly; “why are you peach and she’s brown?”
The question was utterly disarming but not in the way you might imagine. It came across not as being impolite, rude or even racist but as being honest, genuine and brave. What I knew as I responded to this little boy was that – even at his tender age (or perhaps because of it) – he was someone who lives with his hands wide open to the world.
The lad’s mother was mortified: “I am so sorry – that certainly does not come from us!” she said turning crimson.
I bent down next to the young boy whose lip had started to quiver a little and told him that I thought it was an excellent question. I explained that Lolly was our daughter and that she was adopted; that was why her skin was a different colour to mine. I assured his Mum she had no reason to be upset; that her son had been brave to ask the question.
As I reflected on the interaction, I wondered why it had delighted rather than offended me. I am still not totally sure I have the answer to that – such is the profoundness of 5 year olds – but here are some thoughts:
As I mentioned earlier, the question and the innocent way in which it was asked, conjured up an image of ‘open-handedness’ in my mind. Usually open-handedness is associated with generosity, but there are a number of other associations that this little boy brought to the concept:
Firstly, he was not asking the question with any kind of racist edge; he was asking it out of genuine curiosity. Open-handedness suggests an eagerness to learn; to receive understanding; to be ‘shared with’. The question was so disarming because – in general – we do not live like this at all. An eagerness to learn and to understand is often associated with weakness; we wouldn’t have to ask the question if we weren’t so stupid as to not know the answer. In addition to this, we perceive that asking seemingly difficult questions places us in a position of vulnerability – and we generally do all we can to avoid that. So, whilst I know that people look at my family and ask a similar question to; “why are you peach and she’s brown” in their minds, they seldom give voice to that question because to do so would be way too vulnerable. The truth however is that society will not heal on any deep level here in South Africa until we are prepared to become vulnerable with one another; to ask and be asked the uncomfortable questions about one another’s race, culture, religion – whatever.
Secondly, this little boy was not constrained by political correctness which is – by its very nature – the antithesis of open-handedness. It is a stifling and claustrophobic practice that ensures that interactions with people who are different to us are kept skin deep. This young lad cut right to the marrow and in doing so, enabled a real conversation to take place – right there in the middle of a shopping mall. Political correctness is another major barrier to deep healing here in South Africa.
And thirdly that little boy acknowledged difference. This is perhaps the most profound lesson to learn from his question. Unaffected by the improbable and frankly unnecessary notion of ‘colour blindness’, he saw difference and he acknowledged it. You see difference is not to be ignored, it is to be embraced, and we can only embrace difference – or perhaps better put, embrace those different to us – if we live with open hands. And until we do this – learn to understand and enjoy rather than merely tolerate one another’s differences – there is a limit to the depth of the healing that can take place.
When I grow up I want to be just like that little boy – and live with my hands wide open.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysen: gang raped, mutilated and murdered.
by Justin Foxton | Apr 14, 2014 | Citizen Participation, Leadership
“A leader is a dealer in hope.” Napoleon Bonaparte.
It is nearly 20 years since the dawn of democracy in South Africa and the most pressing question that I believe needs asking is not whether or not we have a good story to tell – we do. The more urgent question is do we have hope for the next 20 years?
You see in 1994 – the baked bean and kerosene lamp brigade aside – we were infused with almost supernatural levels of hope; we were buoyed up on a wave of international goodwill and our national pride was at fever pitch. We had the world’s most revered statesman at the helm and the world’s most beloved cleric making petition in the heavenlys on our behalf. We embodied hope.
Now hope is a very powerful thing. With hope anything is possible. Without it, nothing is possible. It can be argued that 1994 – and the ensuing 20 years – happened because we had hope that it would.
Psychologist Charles Snyder was one of the first developers of positive psychology and created his “hope theory” while on sabbatical from the University of Kansas. He observed people and interacted with them and through these observations came up with his own definition of hope: “Hope” he said; “is the sum of the mental willpower and waypower that you have for your goals.” In layman’s terms, hope is the fuel that fires the engine of change; it is the oomph that converts invisible dreams into seen realities.
And in Mandela we had one of the greatest “dealers in hope” of all history. He outlined the vision, gave us a road-map and then supercharged us with hope that it was infinitely doable. There was no chance of failure because the sum of our collective hope was driving us towards the vision that had been created for us; a united nation.
Over the next 20 years the story unfolded and it was indeed a good story; institutionalised racism was abolished along with its degrading and humiliating laws and practices; the disenfranchised majority had their right to vote restored to them; the poorest of the poor received financial aid from government; murder rates began to come down; millions were given access to houses, water and electricity; we staged arguably the finest football World Cup in history and praise be to the Almighty we won the Rugby World Cup – twice!
But as we did all this the oddest thing was happening; hope was waning. Cinderella- like it seemed that the magic was fading, midnight was fast approaching and soon we would be left with nothing but the memories of an all-too-short flirtation with a prince called democracy.
What caused this gradual loss of hope? Was it simply natural attrition; the fact that we simply couldn’t go on operating at those heady levels of post 1994 hope? Or was there something more to it?
I believe we could still be riding the crest of that wave were it not for two factors:
Back to the Cinderella story, the magic was always going to run out – it was only ever a matter of time. It was up to Cinderella to make her impression on the prince so that the magic was no longer an external force but an internal reality. She did that. We haven’t yet. The Madiba Magic as we called it – aka hope – has gone and we are left staring out into the midnight sky, waiting for another saviour to return with more magic. The thing we have done least well over the past 20 years is not economic, political or social. It is quite simply that we – you and I – have failed to keep hope alive. We have failed to become leaders in our own circles; leaders who deal in hope. Instead we have immersed ourselves in cynicism, self-pity, negativity and criticism, effectively killing the magic.
The second factor that has killed the magic is that our political leaders have not dealt in hope either. They have dealt in lies, deceit, cover-ups, drugs, spin – you name it – everything but hope. And what robs citizens of a democracy of hope more than anything else is when political leaders consistently failing to pay back what they have stolen, apologise for the wrongs they have committed and resign from office when they are found guilty. Nothing destroys faith in democracy quicker and more irrevocably than a lack of accountability.
Hope will be restored when two things happen: when we decide to put leaders who are dealers in hope into positions of power and when each of us makes an intentional choice to become a dealer in hope.
Then the magic will return.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysen: gang raped, mutilated and murdered.
