Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the power of imagining what’s possible

At the same time as Mavis Ngcongolo’s ECD learners were winding their way back to Injongo after their graduation ceremony on Saturday, another education event of a very different kind was getting underway in the neighbouring township of Philippi. Sivuka!, which means “Wake up!” in isiXhosa was organized by my friend and UWC colleague, Iris Vernekohl, on behalf of the University of the Western Cape and with the help of DAAD (the South African German Centre for Development Research and Criminal Justice). Dubbed an education Indaba, the purpose of Sivuka! was to encourage local youth and high school students to begin to imagine the possibility of a tertiary education, particularly in such fields as science and politics.

Although the number of South African high school leavers going on to university has grown steadily in recent years, a university degree is still seen as a remote option by many, particularly amongst the socio-economically deprived youth in the locations. Some of this is grounded in reality. Universities are expensive and the pressure is on for many young people to find work and contribute to the family income rather than continue their studies. But it is also a question of perceptions. The value of a tertiary education is not yet acknowledged by all, a fact not helped by the tendency amongst  many of South Africa’s new ruling elite to make a point of stressing their lack of a university education as though a university education is a luxury, or even a frivolity, that can be ignored on the road to success.

Sikuva!  was supported by a number of local celebrities who donated their time gratis, including the South African stand up comic Nik Rabinowitz, the popular rock group Freshly Ground and a number of academics and scientists from UWC who both spoke and conducted interactive scientific experiments for the assembled crowd. However, the star of the show, as far as I was concerned, was the ever charming, ever straight talking, Emeritus Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

Tutu holds a special place in the hearts of many South Africans. His humility and dedication to the spiritual and social upliftment of the South African people is undeniable. He is also a man of rare integrity and courage. Tutu has never been afraid to speak truth to power. He did it during Apartheid and he continues to do it now that we have a black majority leadership.

However, I have also always admired Tutu because of his ability, like the great Mandela, to inspire South Africans to imagine another story for themselves, one which does not ignore or deny the crimes of our past, or the challenges of our present, but which nonetheless encourages us to imagine our potential to shape a more noble future.  It was Tutu who coined the phrase, ‘the Rainbow nation’. It was he too who reminded us of the spirit of Ubuntu. In the fragile and sensitive years of our new democracy post 1994, Tutu said, we are the Rainbow nation and we let ourselves imagine that we maybe, just maybe, we could be. Tutu said, South Africa is the home of Ubuntu, and we said, yes, why not. Let’s try.

On Saturday he inspired his young audience to imagine the possibility for a better future for themselves, one which included a tertiary education. I have no doubt that many of those assembled, would be the first in their families to attend university. I have no doubt too that before they heard Tutu speak, they were probably more interested in hearing the local bands and watching the local dance acts, than in engaging with Sivuka’s educational themes. However, seeing how many of the young people clutched a UWC undergraduate prospectus after the Archbishop’s speech, I feel hopeful that at least for some, Tutu’s words planted a powerful seed,  and that now they have begun the process of at least beginning to imagine the possibility of a tertiary degree and with it a future, wider and brighter than what they envisaged for themselves before.

UWC's Rector, Prof. Brian O'Connell, introducing Archbishop Desmond Tutu at Sivuka

It’s the ordinary people that give us hope.

In the words of the 20th century philosopher Hannah Arendt, true revolutionaries are driven by “the passion of compassion.”

Here is one example. This past Saturday in the informal Cape settlement of Mfuleni,  Injongo Educare saw off its graduating class of 2011 .

Injongo means “a sense of purpose” in isiXhosa and when one meets its head, Mavis Ngcongolo, one can see why. Mavis has been running her creche from her shack for the past four years with no financial help from local government and little financial input from parents, the vast majority of whom are too poor to pay. In spite of this, Mavis Ngcongolo has created a safe and inspiring space for her learners, who range in age from infants to 6 years of age. Ask her why she does it and Mavis will tell you that it is all about the children, keeping them out of harm’s way and making sure they can enjoy, at least for a few hours a day, the sort of carefree childhood that Mavis herself was deprived of as a young girl growing up in the Eastern Cape. The creche gives Mavis her sense of purpose, but it also provides children, who would otherwise have little to occupy themselves, with direction, care and self-esteem.

There is no doubt that Mavis is a true revolutionary who, driven by “the passion of compassion” is making a lasting impact upon the lives of some of the most vulnerable children within her community. Thanks to Matchbox Africa, a non-profit organisation dedicated to improving the life and learning conditions for children in South Africa’s townships, through the upgrade of preschools, she and her learners will also in the coming year, have access to improved facilities. This will hopefully make Mavis’s mission that little bit easier. For more information about Injongo Educare, Mavis Ngcongolo, Matchbox Africa and the plight of South Africa’s township educare centres, you can visit the Matchbox website: http://www.matchbox-africa.com/

Injongo Educare centre Mfuleni

Is anyone out there listening? Or, what went wrong with the campaign against the Information Secrecy Bill here in South Africa and what we can still get right.

Two days ago I was interviewed by a German radio journalist. She wanted to speak to people in the South African arts and media about the South African government’s now infamous Information (or Secrecy) Bill that was approved by an overwhelming Parliamentary majority  this past Tuesday, the 22nd of November 2011. The Bill, if not thwarted by the Constitutional Court in the coming weeks, will have a devastating impact upon the power of the media to report openly and freely on circumspect  government dealings, by controlling what information the Press is lawfully able to access and discuss. 25 years in a local prison, will it seems, be the price a journalist will have to pay, if he or she dares to speak truth to the powers that be, in this sullied South African democracy of ours.

The German journalist  put several provocative questions to me. But perhaps one of the most striking was why did the local majority seem so non-plussed by the possibility of the Bill? Surely one should expect mass outrage and wide-spread, visible public protest regarding a Bill, which, if bull-dozed into law, would signify a terrifying and undeniable rejection of both our national Constitution and of one of the basic tenants of our hard-won democracy – a free Press and with it the freedom to ask our increasingly  arrogant and cantankerous government, ‘why?, ‘what?’, ‘how?’ and ‘when?’.

Her question got me thinking. There were only two possible answers as far as I saw it. One, the majority didn’t care about a free Press  or free speech. Two, we who had been lobbying to oppose the Bill hadn’t made it clear why they should be concerned about such a Bill,  when for the majority of South Africans, personal safety, affordable, adequate housing, basic medical treatment and even finding enough money to feed ones family are of daily and seemingly more immediate concern.

Had we who had been lobbying against the Bill made clear enough, the link between a free Press and the government being forced to reexamine its policies and with it, ultimately improve life on the ground for its ordinary citizens? I don’t believe we did. By asking the government difficult questions during the HIV/Aids treatment tragedy of the early 2000s, the South African media not only exposed the shortcomings of the then Mbeki ANC government’s handling of the matter, but also educated South Africans about their rights and what was feasible in terms of treatment. This resulted in the government having to reexamine its inadequate policies regarding HIV treatment and education in South Africa and eventually implement free ARV treatment for those afflicted with the disease. Here was a clear case in point of a free Press acting as a catalyst for policy change in South Africa and with it a better quality of life for all (although sadly not for the many thousands who died from the disease when the government’s HIV/Aids bell-jar was still in place).

I know that I am not alone in feeling deep despair at yet another reminder this week, that the current ANC leadership is but a pathetic  parody of those beacons of integrity and self-less humanity who gave their lives to and for the cause during the dark days of Apartheid. However, I also feel that all is not lost and there is still time to better educate all South Africans about what they risk losing if this Bill does indeed become law. The Bill itself seems to be just one of a shopping list of dodgy reforms planned by the current government (also on the cards is yet another scaling back of refugee and African immigrant rights and most worryingly of all, a reevaluation of the Constitutional Court itself). However, little will ultimately be achieved if those involved with the media continue to speak truth to power, but don’t better communicate how a free Press can directly influence the very real struggles and hardships confronting South Africa’s citizens daily, and why therefore, this is a fight that no South African can afford to ignore.