A little while ago, I posted an incredibly powerful speech from TED.com. In it, straight senator Dianne J. Savina from New York State was arguing for gay marriage. The bill allowing gay marriage was not passed, and as a result, every time someone told me America is the land of the free where you can become who you want to be, I gave a bitter little laugh.
And then I happened to glance at the Guardian online this weekend (I'm sure you can guess what my favourite online paper of the moment is) and I see that they have now passed the bill allowing gay marriage. To quote Jen Thorpe (feminist commentator and, if I'm not mistaken, ex-Rhodes student), "HOORAY!!!!"
Many couples lined up in matching suits or dresses to get married and there is a slideshow of eight photographs that made me get all warm and fuzzy inside. I was going to say that photograph number three is my favourite. It is a picture of Phyllis Siegel and Connie Kopelov, 76 and 84 years old respectively. They have just been pronounced wife and wife, and Phyllis is kissing an overwhelmed Connie's cheek adoringly whilst the friends and family smilingly applaud in the background. They have been together for twenty-three years.
But then I saw the next one, Myron Levine and Philip Zinderman (who is holding a little bouquet of flowers) striding out of the relatively ancient looking "New York State Building" together, holding their joined hands aloft and laughing. There is a friend on either side of the door, a man and a woman, preparing to shower them with rose petals. They may have been together for fifty-three years, but the expressions on their faces are as excited as any young newly-weds.
Douglas Robinson and Michael Elsasser have each other in a close-knit embrace, each head buried in the other's shoulder so that you cannot see their faces. When you look at their evident happiness, you don't need to. One women is leaping down the steps with her partner (perhaps she is dancing?) and her is flying out around her in excitement. There are two men in Business-type suits sitting in adjoining chairs. They are holding hands and the one is kissing the other's cheek, so coyly and lovingly that it makes me wonder whether a "blushing bride" is a term that is necessarily exclusively female.
These New York marriages, so long fought-for, arch over these couples like blessings, softening every line on their faces with love.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
for those who no longer have words
One of the stories that has haunted me (along with the rest of the world) is that of Anders Behring Breivik. The first photograph I saw of him showed me a good-looking man, some might even have said beautiful. He has well-defined bone structure, good skin and golden blonde hair with deep blue eyes. He was dressed as a policeman when he stood on a rock and beckoned the young adults, who were swimming around the island to come towards him. Even in South Africa, I believe, where many of us fear the police, he would not have seemed a threat. After all, for many people (Annelie Botes and Donald Trump among others), a brown skin is the first signal of danger.
There have been many articles about him: his extremism, his religion, his Islamaphobia and the possibility that he is clinically insane. He is living proof of the damage violent extremists do to everyone, even their "own kind" (whatever that is), the ones they profess to be protecting.
But he still has words and voices at his disposal. The dead do not. Their stories are the ones that need to be told.
When the people at the camp swam towards the handsome, beckoning "policeman", he opened fire on them, killing sixty-eight people. His bomb killed a further eight people (at last count). The number is equivalent to over two South African government school classes, or three private school ones. If you go to the Guardian Online website, you can see the pictures and read some information about the people who are dead or missing presumed dead to have been identified thus far.
There is one man (barely a man, he is only twenty-three) named Gunnar Linaker. He has a roundish face and flushed skin that makes me think he was once part of a debating team. He positioned himself in front of the younger people (most of the dead are teenagers) to shield them. He survived the attack but died in hospital.
Hanne Annette Balch Fjalestad was one of the older people who died in the attack. She had come out to the camp from Denmark with her twenty-year old daughter. She also died protecting the younger ones, including her daughter, who survived. Hanne leaves beyond four children.
Ismail Haj Ahmed had appeared on "Norway's Got Talent". His picture is a publicity shot and he has a fresh Disney smile of an untarnished High School Musical star. His brother found his body on the rocks.
The photographs and the anonymous silhouettes where faces should be looks eerily like facebook: a group of smiling young people and a few of their parents. No doubt if the camp had a facebook group the album photographs would look something like it. Except that this is a group of people were put together because none of their smiling faces are alive anymore.
In South Africa - I am not sure why - when something bad happens to someone, even if we did nothing to cause it, we say sorry, perhaps because some hurts move beyond complex statements of compassion.
So I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
There have been many articles about him: his extremism, his religion, his Islamaphobia and the possibility that he is clinically insane. He is living proof of the damage violent extremists do to everyone, even their "own kind" (whatever that is), the ones they profess to be protecting.
But he still has words and voices at his disposal. The dead do not. Their stories are the ones that need to be told.
When the people at the camp swam towards the handsome, beckoning "policeman", he opened fire on them, killing sixty-eight people. His bomb killed a further eight people (at last count). The number is equivalent to over two South African government school classes, or three private school ones. If you go to the Guardian Online website, you can see the pictures and read some information about the people who are dead or missing presumed dead to have been identified thus far.
There is one man (barely a man, he is only twenty-three) named Gunnar Linaker. He has a roundish face and flushed skin that makes me think he was once part of a debating team. He positioned himself in front of the younger people (most of the dead are teenagers) to shield them. He survived the attack but died in hospital.
Hanne Annette Balch Fjalestad was one of the older people who died in the attack. She had come out to the camp from Denmark with her twenty-year old daughter. She also died protecting the younger ones, including her daughter, who survived. Hanne leaves beyond four children.
Ismail Haj Ahmed had appeared on "Norway's Got Talent". His picture is a publicity shot and he has a fresh Disney smile of an untarnished High School Musical star. His brother found his body on the rocks.
The photographs and the anonymous silhouettes where faces should be looks eerily like facebook: a group of smiling young people and a few of their parents. No doubt if the camp had a facebook group the album photographs would look something like it. Except that this is a group of people were put together because none of their smiling faces are alive anymore.
In South Africa - I am not sure why - when something bad happens to someone, even if we did nothing to cause it, we say sorry, perhaps because some hurts move beyond complex statements of compassion.
So I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
blogger's block (and my soution)
The more I blog, the less I feel able to. In part, this may be a writer's problem. The words overwhelm one. How can one find the right words when there are no right ones? My experiences and feelings can never be teased out in language, the subtleties cannot be expressed. They can be hinted at, or expressed in a particular way but actually come to mean something completely different. Sometimes the life I want to describe seethes with vibrancy and infinite riches before my eyes and I feel clumsy and rough, having to shatter what I see in order to smear the oozing remains onto the page. And yet language does communicate. Having caught up on friends' blogs, I am enlightened and lifted and made to see differently. I am sure that sometimes my writings (if I work on them conscientiously enough) do the same.
It may also be because I flinch from the continuous sound (metaphorically speaking) of my own voice. Too often, debate or public speaking can become nothing more than a tirade of repetitive shock-slogans, and those who speak the loudest are the best heard. I maintain that one of the best ways to deal with Julius Malema is not to give him so much free publicity (although the recent publicity about his trust fund makes me thrilled). South Africa has so any wise people who are doing good work, why cannot we have their revelations on the front pages or discussed and picked over in the media? Perhaps, in part, because wisdom cannot always be arrived at in a headline or a twitter feed. I am uninitiated to the world of twitter, but it does make me shudder like the ancient, pedantic English teacher I'm sure I am on the inside. Even the name makes all my toes curl. "Twit" (as in Roald Dahl's "The Twits"), or to "twit" someone has never been a good thing. Perhaps the joke is on us: millions of people signing up for the right to be called a "twit-ter".
As I just illustrated (most effectively to myself), I can easily be betrayed into a tirade. But what is the difference between an educated, interesting opinion and a tirade? At what point do my opinions stop trying to effect good in the world and turn into statements designed to wound and simultaneously make myself look self-righteous and superior? I am sure many people can come up with pithy statements on twitter, just as many people write, um, not-so-pithy things.
Perhaps I do sometimes betray myself into wounding rather than challenging constructively, but what I do love doing (without regrets, although I always wish I could describe them better) in these blogs is telling people's stories. There are such interesting people walking by me every day that when life slows down a little (or when I slow down enough to stop and really see) I have really nourishing encounters.
I've just been on holiday to three different provinces (KwaZulu Natal, the Eastern Cape and Mpumalanga) and what really struck me was the wonderful men I met. Feminists are not completely round the twist when they say that we still live in an unequal society. Female lecturers at Wits (for example) are more often that not paid less than their male counterparts. I also meet women (more often than I would like to) who still do all the housework and cooking despite the fact that both partners have full time jobs. Then there are also men who are brought up with very specific ideas about what masculinity is, and when they are unable to fulfil these expectations, are left feeling emasculated and angry. Sometimes this can make women (myself included) and men bitter about the state of gender relations.
Yet on this holiday, I found so much evidence of men who were negotiating this world with such verve and sensitivity that I have returned feeling inspired. There are two of the men I went to school with, Richard and Malcolm. I saw them on the last leg of my trip as Malcolm was getting married (what a beautiful wedding and a meaningful and thought-provoking marriage service). Richard cooked a few delicious meals for all of us, and always treated his girlfriend, Tarryn with the utmost respect. He is endlessly curious and energetic, always wanting to learn more about all of us and what we are interested in, never arrogantly dreaming that he knows everything or intimating, however subtly or unconsciously, that he would be smarter because he is a man(despite being a really talented computer scientist). He reminded me of how important it is to be curious about everything, and how much more you can learn and grow because of it.
Malcolm, who was getting married to his wonderful wife, Jess, made clear throughout the ceremony and reception that he was so fortunate to be getting married to such a special person. The absolute love and respect he has for his wife, and the fact that he was unashamed to show the enormity of his emotion was an incredibly beautiful thing to see.
Then there is Markus, a bird and mammal guide extraordinaire. He made me think almost all the time: openly challenging me to be sharper, more aware and even more moral. "Moral" is a bit of a self-righteous word, but hang in there. It's because he listened closely to whatever I said, and pulled it apart. I had fallen into the habit of speaking unthinkingly, and of saying (among other things), "I promise" when I wanted to emphasise a point, implying (as he rightly said) that what I usually said was untrustworthy or not worth listening to. As a language person, thinking about how I use language before I say anything is immensely important. Language is powerful. Travelling with a wildlife guide also made me more aware of how much I miss all around me every day. I walked to work through Wits campus (the centre of South Africa's biggest city) the other day actually looking for birds and I found the kind of strikingly beautiful birdlife I only dreamed was possible in game parks. I have been walking around half-blind.
This blog is for those men who do make a better way forward in this "monstrous and wonderful, banal and bizarre, ordered and chaotic"* world. It's also for my boyfriend, the intensely private man who I haven't described in detail here, but who is living proof for me every day that men and women do not always have to tear at each other, but can nourish and better each other in every infinitesimal way.
It may also be because I flinch from the continuous sound (metaphorically speaking) of my own voice. Too often, debate or public speaking can become nothing more than a tirade of repetitive shock-slogans, and those who speak the loudest are the best heard. I maintain that one of the best ways to deal with Julius Malema is not to give him so much free publicity (although the recent publicity about his trust fund makes me thrilled). South Africa has so any wise people who are doing good work, why cannot we have their revelations on the front pages or discussed and picked over in the media? Perhaps, in part, because wisdom cannot always be arrived at in a headline or a twitter feed. I am uninitiated to the world of twitter, but it does make me shudder like the ancient, pedantic English teacher I'm sure I am on the inside. Even the name makes all my toes curl. "Twit" (as in Roald Dahl's "The Twits"), or to "twit" someone has never been a good thing. Perhaps the joke is on us: millions of people signing up for the right to be called a "twit-ter".
As I just illustrated (most effectively to myself), I can easily be betrayed into a tirade. But what is the difference between an educated, interesting opinion and a tirade? At what point do my opinions stop trying to effect good in the world and turn into statements designed to wound and simultaneously make myself look self-righteous and superior? I am sure many people can come up with pithy statements on twitter, just as many people write, um, not-so-pithy things.
Perhaps I do sometimes betray myself into wounding rather than challenging constructively, but what I do love doing (without regrets, although I always wish I could describe them better) in these blogs is telling people's stories. There are such interesting people walking by me every day that when life slows down a little (or when I slow down enough to stop and really see) I have really nourishing encounters.
I've just been on holiday to three different provinces (KwaZulu Natal, the Eastern Cape and Mpumalanga) and what really struck me was the wonderful men I met. Feminists are not completely round the twist when they say that we still live in an unequal society. Female lecturers at Wits (for example) are more often that not paid less than their male counterparts. I also meet women (more often than I would like to) who still do all the housework and cooking despite the fact that both partners have full time jobs. Then there are also men who are brought up with very specific ideas about what masculinity is, and when they are unable to fulfil these expectations, are left feeling emasculated and angry. Sometimes this can make women (myself included) and men bitter about the state of gender relations.
Yet on this holiday, I found so much evidence of men who were negotiating this world with such verve and sensitivity that I have returned feeling inspired. There are two of the men I went to school with, Richard and Malcolm. I saw them on the last leg of my trip as Malcolm was getting married (what a beautiful wedding and a meaningful and thought-provoking marriage service). Richard cooked a few delicious meals for all of us, and always treated his girlfriend, Tarryn with the utmost respect. He is endlessly curious and energetic, always wanting to learn more about all of us and what we are interested in, never arrogantly dreaming that he knows everything or intimating, however subtly or unconsciously, that he would be smarter because he is a man(despite being a really talented computer scientist). He reminded me of how important it is to be curious about everything, and how much more you can learn and grow because of it.
Malcolm, who was getting married to his wonderful wife, Jess, made clear throughout the ceremony and reception that he was so fortunate to be getting married to such a special person. The absolute love and respect he has for his wife, and the fact that he was unashamed to show the enormity of his emotion was an incredibly beautiful thing to see.
Then there is Markus, a bird and mammal guide extraordinaire. He made me think almost all the time: openly challenging me to be sharper, more aware and even more moral. "Moral" is a bit of a self-righteous word, but hang in there. It's because he listened closely to whatever I said, and pulled it apart. I had fallen into the habit of speaking unthinkingly, and of saying (among other things), "I promise" when I wanted to emphasise a point, implying (as he rightly said) that what I usually said was untrustworthy or not worth listening to. As a language person, thinking about how I use language before I say anything is immensely important. Language is powerful. Travelling with a wildlife guide also made me more aware of how much I miss all around me every day. I walked to work through Wits campus (the centre of South Africa's biggest city) the other day actually looking for birds and I found the kind of strikingly beautiful birdlife I only dreamed was possible in game parks. I have been walking around half-blind.
This blog is for those men who do make a better way forward in this "monstrous and wonderful, banal and bizarre, ordered and chaotic"* world. It's also for my boyfriend, the intensely private man who I haven't described in detail here, but who is living proof for me every day that men and women do not always have to tear at each other, but can nourish and better each other in every infinitesimal way.
Monday, June 13, 2011
teaching about the blacks
I am a tutor and the other day I had a bit of a rave at my South African poetry students that I thought I should share with the world (or the part of the world that reads my blog). It was about how one talks about race in texts that reference older mindsets, and (because these things always spill over into real life from literature) how we use or refrain from using, the leftover prejudice language in everyday situations.
Me: What's with the blacks and the whites, folks? I feel like I am talking about playing cards or some alternate graphic novel universe with warring art-deco, mechanical mafia clans. Surely in this day and age (unless you are being ironic) one should talk about Black people and white people? It's like talking about the gays. How much more can one objectify a group of people? I mean, you wouldn't talk about the "Amy"s, you would talk about the tables.
I have clearly not made my point however, as some still talk about the "blacks" and "whites" in their essays, even when there is no such objectification (ironic or otherwise) in the text. They just put quotation marks around them. So I need to get it through to them a little better.
I got my other point about race across to everyone perfectly clearly. I'm sure it will remain crystalline in their minds. Some of my tutlings (they were writing about Herman Charles Bosman) wrote about the "kaffirs" (which are written just like that in the stories) but without quotation marks. If you are referencing an older, more conservative time directly, one needs to quote this word in context and acknowledge its inherent ugliness, but they just inserted quite happily in their arguments with barely a shudder. I was able to illustrate to them - using, I think, one of my more memorable illustrations of a point why (apart from the obvious) one would not use incendiary and prejudicial terms in formal arguments. It went something like this:
Me: I mean, you wouldn't talk about the motherfuckers in your test unless you were quoting directly from the text would you?
Class: scattered laughter and a one or two gasps. A few light-bulbs go on.
Me: (smiling serenely and thinking, "won't forget that one will you?")
So if anyone can think of a similarly pithy example of why one should not talk about the blacks and whites, I would be eternally grateful. Maybe I will inflict it on next year's batch...
Me: What's with the blacks and the whites, folks? I feel like I am talking about playing cards or some alternate graphic novel universe with warring art-deco, mechanical mafia clans. Surely in this day and age (unless you are being ironic) one should talk about Black people and white people? It's like talking about the gays. How much more can one objectify a group of people? I mean, you wouldn't talk about the "Amy"s, you would talk about the tables.
I have clearly not made my point however, as some still talk about the "blacks" and "whites" in their essays, even when there is no such objectification (ironic or otherwise) in the text. They just put quotation marks around them. So I need to get it through to them a little better.
I got my other point about race across to everyone perfectly clearly. I'm sure it will remain crystalline in their minds. Some of my tutlings (they were writing about Herman Charles Bosman) wrote about the "kaffirs" (which are written just like that in the stories) but without quotation marks. If you are referencing an older, more conservative time directly, one needs to quote this word in context and acknowledge its inherent ugliness, but they just inserted quite happily in their arguments with barely a shudder. I was able to illustrate to them - using, I think, one of my more memorable illustrations of a point why (apart from the obvious) one would not use incendiary and prejudicial terms in formal arguments. It went something like this:
Me: I mean, you wouldn't talk about the motherfuckers in your test unless you were quoting directly from the text would you?
Class: scattered laughter and a one or two gasps. A few light-bulbs go on.
Me: (smiling serenely and thinking, "won't forget that one will you?")
So if anyone can think of a similarly pithy example of why one should not talk about the blacks and whites, I would be eternally grateful. Maybe I will inflict it on next year's batch...
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I'm coming out of the closet...
For me, telling people I'm a Christian is like coming out of the closet. It's liberating to tell the truth about myself, but there is always that chance that people will turn away, repulsed by the thought of what I do (or what they think I do) in the privacy of my home or church. There's sometimes a sense that I can do what I like as long as I don't do anything in public, where others may be disgusted by my displays of affection for the one (or in my case the One) I love.
In other cases, even being a Christian in the privacy of my own home is too much for people. It is deemed morally reprehensible and irresponsible: I must acknowledge that I am deluded and more importantly, be prevented from spreading my delusions and my lifestyle to society at large. At least Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens think so. Much of society is not Christian friendly. And yet, a friend of mine is an atheist, and she has experienced the exact same thing. Her family ostracize her, and friends look on her with patronising pity. Another fellow blogger, a Muslim, has also expressed the belief that society is Islamaphobic (I actually agree with him there. Even in England - the least racially polarised place I have been so far will come out in full force to defend their cities against some kind of "Islamic Invasion").
So it seems no one is safe. We're all being targeted by society. But if everyone is being targeted by society, who is left in the society to other us? It appears it is no particular group that started all the hatred. It is rather, people in general who find a particular channel for hatred and exclusion.
An atheist would argue that it is the fault of religion for causing such divisions. If I wasn't Christian, the Muslim fundamentalist would have no problem with me because I would not be Christian, and the fundamentalist would not be Muslim. We would be siblings on this earth with no divisions...except for our different race, class, culture, sexual orientation, language and gender.
We are all different, religious or not. Sweeping away religion will not change us into accepting human beings, living together as one. Christopher Hitchens is an atheist but that does not stop him from being misogynist, as his pompous declaration that women aren't funny proves.
Obviously religion can divide people violently against each other and commit great evils. Churches burn Korans and legislate violent anti-homosexual legislation, and Muslim states stone adulterous women and prevent anyone from worshipping any other gods.
It is not religion however, that causes the major wars, but greed and a will to power. The First World War was a mess of countries trying to out do each other and prevent smaller countries from gaining independence. The Second World War was caused by the problems of the first and race hatred. Even so-called religious wars are frequently run through with longing for riches, self-determination or power. I'm over-simplifying the causes more than a little, but anyone can see the Crusades were not just Christians going out to defeat the "infidels" and convert or kill.
In its best form, however, religion unites. When I go to church on Sunday, I am amazed by the cross section of people sitting in the pews. People of all colours, ages, and fashions, heck even people of different beliefs. I seldom - if ever - see gatherings of this diversity anywhere else. Even at universities, the most liberal pockets of our society, there is a narrow age range and of course, a group of people who are school-book smart. There are no plummers or factory workers, shop assistants or floor cleaners who associate with students on equal footing. Our still-present apartheid land act ensures that not many churches include people of all classes and races, but the church I attend in Braamfontein, next to the university and across the bridge from a taxi rank, is home to people of all sorts. We all say the same liturgy, sit in the same pews and drink from the same cup. We all have to admit publicly, that all of us are equal in the eyes of God. Anyone who has ever worshipped in a mosque, synagogue, temple, outdoor circle or church may have experienced something like this.
One of my favourite illustrations of the nature of prejudice rather than the nature of religion is a series of documentaries made in the 1950s on apartheid that you can find on Youtube (riveting stuff).
Two priests are interviewed. One is a Dutch Reform priest, and he asserts that reasoning behind apartheid is in fact written in the Bible. The second looks like an Anglican priest, and he states that if one is a true Christian, apartheid is completely opposite to Christian morals.
I am still a baby Christian, it is true, and not an orthodox one. I am wrestling with my own problems with this exhilarating, nourishing and incredibly complex thing called faith. But what I know for sure is that it is human prejudice, and not considered, questioning, meditative faith or morally grounded unbelief that causes people to hate and fear one another. It is people who are evil, and use religion or militant atheism for their own means to power. They play on many people's innate prejudice and fear. Anyone who ever looked at the bank account of Richard Dawkins or a charlatan preacher or seen a poor religious militant's heady sense of power over his followers could see why.
In other cases, even being a Christian in the privacy of my own home is too much for people. It is deemed morally reprehensible and irresponsible: I must acknowledge that I am deluded and more importantly, be prevented from spreading my delusions and my lifestyle to society at large. At least Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens think so. Much of society is not Christian friendly. And yet, a friend of mine is an atheist, and she has experienced the exact same thing. Her family ostracize her, and friends look on her with patronising pity. Another fellow blogger, a Muslim, has also expressed the belief that society is Islamaphobic (I actually agree with him there. Even in England - the least racially polarised place I have been so far will come out in full force to defend their cities against some kind of "Islamic Invasion").
So it seems no one is safe. We're all being targeted by society. But if everyone is being targeted by society, who is left in the society to other us? It appears it is no particular group that started all the hatred. It is rather, people in general who find a particular channel for hatred and exclusion.
An atheist would argue that it is the fault of religion for causing such divisions. If I wasn't Christian, the Muslim fundamentalist would have no problem with me because I would not be Christian, and the fundamentalist would not be Muslim. We would be siblings on this earth with no divisions...except for our different race, class, culture, sexual orientation, language and gender.
We are all different, religious or not. Sweeping away religion will not change us into accepting human beings, living together as one. Christopher Hitchens is an atheist but that does not stop him from being misogynist, as his pompous declaration that women aren't funny proves.
Obviously religion can divide people violently against each other and commit great evils. Churches burn Korans and legislate violent anti-homosexual legislation, and Muslim states stone adulterous women and prevent anyone from worshipping any other gods.
It is not religion however, that causes the major wars, but greed and a will to power. The First World War was a mess of countries trying to out do each other and prevent smaller countries from gaining independence. The Second World War was caused by the problems of the first and race hatred. Even so-called religious wars are frequently run through with longing for riches, self-determination or power. I'm over-simplifying the causes more than a little, but anyone can see the Crusades were not just Christians going out to defeat the "infidels" and convert or kill.
In its best form, however, religion unites. When I go to church on Sunday, I am amazed by the cross section of people sitting in the pews. People of all colours, ages, and fashions, heck even people of different beliefs. I seldom - if ever - see gatherings of this diversity anywhere else. Even at universities, the most liberal pockets of our society, there is a narrow age range and of course, a group of people who are school-book smart. There are no plummers or factory workers, shop assistants or floor cleaners who associate with students on equal footing. Our still-present apartheid land act ensures that not many churches include people of all classes and races, but the church I attend in Braamfontein, next to the university and across the bridge from a taxi rank, is home to people of all sorts. We all say the same liturgy, sit in the same pews and drink from the same cup. We all have to admit publicly, that all of us are equal in the eyes of God. Anyone who has ever worshipped in a mosque, synagogue, temple, outdoor circle or church may have experienced something like this.
One of my favourite illustrations of the nature of prejudice rather than the nature of religion is a series of documentaries made in the 1950s on apartheid that you can find on Youtube (riveting stuff).
Two priests are interviewed. One is a Dutch Reform priest, and he asserts that reasoning behind apartheid is in fact written in the Bible. The second looks like an Anglican priest, and he states that if one is a true Christian, apartheid is completely opposite to Christian morals.
I am still a baby Christian, it is true, and not an orthodox one. I am wrestling with my own problems with this exhilarating, nourishing and incredibly complex thing called faith. But what I know for sure is that it is human prejudice, and not considered, questioning, meditative faith or morally grounded unbelief that causes people to hate and fear one another. It is people who are evil, and use religion or militant atheism for their own means to power. They play on many people's innate prejudice and fear. Anyone who ever looked at the bank account of Richard Dawkins or a charlatan preacher or seen a poor religious militant's heady sense of power over his followers could see why.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
I didn't vote...but perhaps I should have
I have a confession to make. I did not vote in South Africa's municipal elections. But before you start stoning me, hear me out.
I feel a fair amount of guilt over this (yes, I know feeling guilty doesn't make it better. Keep reading, I'm getting there). I know that women fought to get the vote: literally fought. They starved themselves in prisons, went on marches, got themselves dragged behind horses and avoided censuses to show that they wanted to be counted in the most important way: to have a one person one vote policy. I am a woman, people struggled so that I could vote.
I also know that apathy is a serious problem. Many people sit and complain, or drink and complain or act irresponsibly and for the detriment of others, thinking that someone else will fix the problems. People should get actively involved in the problems plaguing their communities. The problems in the education systems, the corruption, the inefficient billing systems and the lack of real change for South Africa's poor are problems we all need to lend a hand in fixing. I read an article that said the number of poor white people has doubled since 1994 (to 3.6% of the white population) which is horrible. In 1994, 50% of the black population was poor. That statistic has not changed. I don't doubt we need our government to do a better job. I didn't decide not to vote because I am apathetic. I just think my voting isn't going to do that.
The problems I have detailed above are - undeniably - a fault of the almost fifty years of apartheid, and the ANC, who rules and has ruled most of South Africa since 1994 and is therefore responsible for the failures. Corruption is rife (as we have seen with endless Arms Deals and first-class tickets to Switzerland for "personal reasons" paid with taxpayer's money)and the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. The party who claims to cater to South Africa's poor clearly doesn't. Despite what Julius Malema may say about how much he donates to poor children.
So I should vote the other big alternative: the DA, right? ANC bad, DA good. That the DA had to be ordered to court before they would enclose toilets means that they don't seem to care about South Africa's poor either. This toilet saga was a big deal. And after seeing the pictures, I understand why. I thought "open toilets" meant a long drop rather than a flushing toilet. Turns out, an "open toilet" is flush toilet built in the back yard, practically springing out of the grass. As most households in poorer areas don't have walls, that means that to go and take a dump means doing so in full view of the neighbourhood. Way to go for fostering a sense of dignity. That the ANC built similar toilets doesn't make the DA any better: if anything, it links the two in disappointing ways.
And I've been to Cape Town. The DA may have had a multi-racial campaign (for which I applaud them) but in practise, Cape Town is the most racially divided, class-conscious place I have ever been to, and that includes Festival Mall in Benoni. Perhaps I shouldn't blame the attitude of the municipality on the DA, but South African author Ivan Vladislavic made a pertinent point:
"One of the things to be said about the Soccer City stadium is that it serves Soweto and is the home of soccer for many black supporters. It’s significant I think that this particular stadium has been upgraded and is being used for both the opening ceremony and the final game. The stadium in my area, Ellis Park, is traditionally a rugby stadium, although it has been home to one of the local soccer teams for the last few years.
By contrast, the Green Point stadium in Cape Town always felt like an unnecessary expense to me. Cape Town didn’t need a new stadium, certainly not in that part of the city, in my view. The money would have been better spent upgrading an existing stadium and building some sports facilities in areas more accessible to the poor, to the city’s black population".
Once again, a fail on the DA's part.
So why should I vote if I don't believe my vote will change the status quo, no matter who I vote for? I believe an initiative like LeadSA will make more of a difference to South Africa than its government(s). In other words, ordinary citizens doing their part in every way will have to make this country better, because governments and political parties are (at the end of the day) sullied by empty electioneering and simply, politics.
I did vote in 2009, not because I believed in any of the parties (although I believe I had a little more faith in Helen Zille back then) but because I was doing my part to ensure South Africa did not become a one party state. Perhaps something can also be said for voting for a smaller party with a really good candidate, but then - I reason - why vote for someone who has no chance whatsoever of representation? How am I helping effect change (if indeed I believe the candidate would effect change when voted in) if the candidate will be swiftly forgotten after they lose by a landslide?
Another argument for going to the polls was that if you didn't like any of the parties, one should spoil one's ballot instead of not voting as a sign of protest rather than apathy (which is apparently, what not voting means). I think spoiling my ballot will only make the IEC believe I made a mistake and will not really send any kind of message (as fellow blogger Mohamed Fayaz Khan so eloquently argues).
So I am not - by any means - apathetic about what happens in South Africa because I didn't vote. I read the news obsessively and do my best to find challenging, literary material for those I tutor. I care very deeply and wish to make my mark by being a brilliant educator. I don't believe I can make my mark and change South Africa for the better by voting for someone who will not make the necessary changes.
But I've been thinking. Short of joining the DA or ANC and becoming the political change I wish to see (not exactly in my career plans), how else can I contribute to the running of the country besides by voting, even if for the lesser of two evils? Also, why shouldn't I get involved in my community as well as vote. Surely (as long as you don't believe that your civic duty is done for the next five years once you have cast your vote), the one does not preclude the other.
Recently, I know of two examples when voting did make a difference. In Knysna, a community voted for an independent councillor who broke away from the ANC because she wanted to effect real change. Perhaps she will now be free to uplift her community, unhindered by dirty party politics. Perhaps there will be other councillors like her one day in other communities.
The second example was when I took a little time out to sign a petition on Facebook. I never believed those did any good either, until the petition I signed - the petition against corrective rape in South Africa - had so many signatures it reached the attention of government and the media. Sometimes something as simple as signing your name or (dare I say it) crossing a cross on a ballot can make a positive difference, or at least create awareness of a problem that may one day lead to its solution.
I do know also that voters' queues bring people from all walks of life together to cast their vote: one of the few times when South Africans unite. Perhaps for this reason alone, I admit I was mistaken and - despite my reservations - will go to vote next time.
I feel a fair amount of guilt over this (yes, I know feeling guilty doesn't make it better. Keep reading, I'm getting there). I know that women fought to get the vote: literally fought. They starved themselves in prisons, went on marches, got themselves dragged behind horses and avoided censuses to show that they wanted to be counted in the most important way: to have a one person one vote policy. I am a woman, people struggled so that I could vote.
I also know that apathy is a serious problem. Many people sit and complain, or drink and complain or act irresponsibly and for the detriment of others, thinking that someone else will fix the problems. People should get actively involved in the problems plaguing their communities. The problems in the education systems, the corruption, the inefficient billing systems and the lack of real change for South Africa's poor are problems we all need to lend a hand in fixing. I read an article that said the number of poor white people has doubled since 1994 (to 3.6% of the white population) which is horrible. In 1994, 50% of the black population was poor. That statistic has not changed. I don't doubt we need our government to do a better job. I didn't decide not to vote because I am apathetic. I just think my voting isn't going to do that.
The problems I have detailed above are - undeniably - a fault of the almost fifty years of apartheid, and the ANC, who rules and has ruled most of South Africa since 1994 and is therefore responsible for the failures. Corruption is rife (as we have seen with endless Arms Deals and first-class tickets to Switzerland for "personal reasons" paid with taxpayer's money)and the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. The party who claims to cater to South Africa's poor clearly doesn't. Despite what Julius Malema may say about how much he donates to poor children.
So I should vote the other big alternative: the DA, right? ANC bad, DA good. That the DA had to be ordered to court before they would enclose toilets means that they don't seem to care about South Africa's poor either. This toilet saga was a big deal. And after seeing the pictures, I understand why. I thought "open toilets" meant a long drop rather than a flushing toilet. Turns out, an "open toilet" is flush toilet built in the back yard, practically springing out of the grass. As most households in poorer areas don't have walls, that means that to go and take a dump means doing so in full view of the neighbourhood. Way to go for fostering a sense of dignity. That the ANC built similar toilets doesn't make the DA any better: if anything, it links the two in disappointing ways.
And I've been to Cape Town. The DA may have had a multi-racial campaign (for which I applaud them) but in practise, Cape Town is the most racially divided, class-conscious place I have ever been to, and that includes Festival Mall in Benoni. Perhaps I shouldn't blame the attitude of the municipality on the DA, but South African author Ivan Vladislavic made a pertinent point:
"One of the things to be said about the Soccer City stadium is that it serves Soweto and is the home of soccer for many black supporters. It’s significant I think that this particular stadium has been upgraded and is being used for both the opening ceremony and the final game. The stadium in my area, Ellis Park, is traditionally a rugby stadium, although it has been home to one of the local soccer teams for the last few years.
By contrast, the Green Point stadium in Cape Town always felt like an unnecessary expense to me. Cape Town didn’t need a new stadium, certainly not in that part of the city, in my view. The money would have been better spent upgrading an existing stadium and building some sports facilities in areas more accessible to the poor, to the city’s black population".
Once again, a fail on the DA's part.
So why should I vote if I don't believe my vote will change the status quo, no matter who I vote for? I believe an initiative like LeadSA will make more of a difference to South Africa than its government(s). In other words, ordinary citizens doing their part in every way will have to make this country better, because governments and political parties are (at the end of the day) sullied by empty electioneering and simply, politics.
I did vote in 2009, not because I believed in any of the parties (although I believe I had a little more faith in Helen Zille back then) but because I was doing my part to ensure South Africa did not become a one party state. Perhaps something can also be said for voting for a smaller party with a really good candidate, but then - I reason - why vote for someone who has no chance whatsoever of representation? How am I helping effect change (if indeed I believe the candidate would effect change when voted in) if the candidate will be swiftly forgotten after they lose by a landslide?
Another argument for going to the polls was that if you didn't like any of the parties, one should spoil one's ballot instead of not voting as a sign of protest rather than apathy (which is apparently, what not voting means). I think spoiling my ballot will only make the IEC believe I made a mistake and will not really send any kind of message (as fellow blogger Mohamed Fayaz Khan so eloquently argues).
So I am not - by any means - apathetic about what happens in South Africa because I didn't vote. I read the news obsessively and do my best to find challenging, literary material for those I tutor. I care very deeply and wish to make my mark by being a brilliant educator. I don't believe I can make my mark and change South Africa for the better by voting for someone who will not make the necessary changes.
But I've been thinking. Short of joining the DA or ANC and becoming the political change I wish to see (not exactly in my career plans), how else can I contribute to the running of the country besides by voting, even if for the lesser of two evils? Also, why shouldn't I get involved in my community as well as vote. Surely (as long as you don't believe that your civic duty is done for the next five years once you have cast your vote), the one does not preclude the other.
Recently, I know of two examples when voting did make a difference. In Knysna, a community voted for an independent councillor who broke away from the ANC because she wanted to effect real change. Perhaps she will now be free to uplift her community, unhindered by dirty party politics. Perhaps there will be other councillors like her one day in other communities.
The second example was when I took a little time out to sign a petition on Facebook. I never believed those did any good either, until the petition I signed - the petition against corrective rape in South Africa - had so many signatures it reached the attention of government and the media. Sometimes something as simple as signing your name or (dare I say it) crossing a cross on a ballot can make a positive difference, or at least create awareness of a problem that may one day lead to its solution.
I do know also that voters' queues bring people from all walks of life together to cast their vote: one of the few times when South Africans unite. Perhaps for this reason alone, I admit I was mistaken and - despite my reservations - will go to vote next time.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Earthlings and the disappearence of bees
I've been writing blogs for weeks, although none of them have been published. The problem is that I can't figure out how I want to say what I want to say. I have seen some disturbing material over the last few weeks, have had some transcendent experiences and even started writing a descriptive short story involving a harpy.
Perhaps the problem is that the things I want to write about make me so angry I don't know how to articulate the point without baring my rows of shark teeth and scaring everyone away. This isn't even a good analogy (see my writers block???). I don't mind scaring people (in fact, I positively enjoy it. Everyone needs a good scare sometimes) it's that I don't want to sound like I'm whining because how does that change anything.
Take Earthlings. It is a documentary dubbed "the vegan turner" because the footage of slaughterhouses, puppy mills (you think I'm joking? Where do you think those pet shop puppies come from? Some nice lady with a big garden and a dog who has a whoops every few months?) and fur farms are so graphic they made me want to be physically sick. Joaquin Phoenix (the narrator of Earthlings) keeps intoning that if we had to kill our own animals we would all be vegetarian. This is a silly statement. Human beings are the ones who watch chickens and pigs in overcrowded stalls get cage madness and eat each other (and then we eat the cannibalistic animals: healthy living, folks) and who skin (and by that I mean pull off the skin and fur from the tail over the head, not shave it off like you would a sheep) live animals so that the viewer sees shots of a muscle and bone bloodied animal blinking.
Many people don't want to watch it because they don't want to become vegetarian, they don't want to be put off their meals. The problem is that the meal was off before they got to it. I mean, eat meat if you want to, but know where what you are putting in and on your body came from. I suppose it all boils down to what you can live with (or in this case, what pigs can live with, which is a lot. Most of them are still alive when they are boiled and then when their gristle is burnt off them with a blow torch. Farms sure ain't what they used to be like when babe became a sheep-pig).
When I write that, my hands go cold and I can hear a roaring behind my ears. I understand that some people don't think of animals as equal to people and that we are omnivores and should be eating meat. I even see that some people don't care that animals live in a constant state of excruciating pain from the time they are born because they are "just animals". I don't agree with it, but fine. Even on this most egocentric level however, we should not be eating animals killed in this condition because it is really bad for our health (never mind that of millions of sentient beings who live in terrible pain. Deep breath: take it from the anthropocentric perspective...) It's also(but we all know this right?) really bad from the planet. Too many cows=methane=bad?
We all know we're messing up the planet but I read of another disturbing trend. Bees are disappearing in entire hives (called Colony Collapse Disorder) because of a strange disease no one understands. Some have said it is owing to mobile phones, others say it is caused by insecticides. Either way, we've caused it and it will bring big problems. No more bees=no more pollination=very bad.
Albert Einstein said "If the bee disappears from the surface of the earth, man would have no more than four years to live". I can only hope we can begin to fix this mess.
Perhaps the problem is that the things I want to write about make me so angry I don't know how to articulate the point without baring my rows of shark teeth and scaring everyone away. This isn't even a good analogy (see my writers block???). I don't mind scaring people (in fact, I positively enjoy it. Everyone needs a good scare sometimes) it's that I don't want to sound like I'm whining because how does that change anything.
Take Earthlings. It is a documentary dubbed "the vegan turner" because the footage of slaughterhouses, puppy mills (you think I'm joking? Where do you think those pet shop puppies come from? Some nice lady with a big garden and a dog who has a whoops every few months?) and fur farms are so graphic they made me want to be physically sick. Joaquin Phoenix (the narrator of Earthlings) keeps intoning that if we had to kill our own animals we would all be vegetarian. This is a silly statement. Human beings are the ones who watch chickens and pigs in overcrowded stalls get cage madness and eat each other (and then we eat the cannibalistic animals: healthy living, folks) and who skin (and by that I mean pull off the skin and fur from the tail over the head, not shave it off like you would a sheep) live animals so that the viewer sees shots of a muscle and bone bloodied animal blinking.
Many people don't want to watch it because they don't want to become vegetarian, they don't want to be put off their meals. The problem is that the meal was off before they got to it. I mean, eat meat if you want to, but know where what you are putting in and on your body came from. I suppose it all boils down to what you can live with (or in this case, what pigs can live with, which is a lot. Most of them are still alive when they are boiled and then when their gristle is burnt off them with a blow torch. Farms sure ain't what they used to be like when babe became a sheep-pig).
When I write that, my hands go cold and I can hear a roaring behind my ears. I understand that some people don't think of animals as equal to people and that we are omnivores and should be eating meat. I even see that some people don't care that animals live in a constant state of excruciating pain from the time they are born because they are "just animals". I don't agree with it, but fine. Even on this most egocentric level however, we should not be eating animals killed in this condition because it is really bad for our health (never mind that of millions of sentient beings who live in terrible pain. Deep breath: take it from the anthropocentric perspective...) It's also(but we all know this right?) really bad from the planet. Too many cows=methane=bad?
We all know we're messing up the planet but I read of another disturbing trend. Bees are disappearing in entire hives (called Colony Collapse Disorder) because of a strange disease no one understands. Some have said it is owing to mobile phones, others say it is caused by insecticides. Either way, we've caused it and it will bring big problems. No more bees=no more pollination=very bad.
Albert Einstein said "If the bee disappears from the surface of the earth, man would have no more than four years to live". I can only hope we can begin to fix this mess.
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