Freedom Beauty Truth

After my last blog post, it might seem as if the decision to leave South Africa was an easy one. It seems I have only criticism and scorn for the country of my childhood and family. This really isn’t true. I do believe you should be able to honestly critique your own country, your own background and origins though. It’s like being able to love your family or friends completely, yet still see them for who they honestly are – imperfect, fallible human beings. Sometimes even downright annoying... as we all are. And yes, sometimes we even need to head out into the world, leaving them behind for time, because we need a bit of ‘space’ to grow (this usually happens after leaving school). In other words, I am not trying to say that one country is better than another, just different. Since countries are made up of people, it’s not surprising that they will not be perfect either - and anyway finding your way in the world is a constant negotiation between your own needs, and those of ot...

I can’t say I am sad to see the back of 2012. One absolutely mind-blowingly amazing thing happened – I gave birth to the most gorgeous little girl in the world (and I am not at all biased, of course). Other than that, however, and even in part due to that, it was a very difficult year – stressful, tiring, challenging, demanding…all those sorts of words. And at times heart-breaking. Why? Well, a few reasons – some of which were simply the unsurprising results of being a new mum: adjustments in my own selfish little world, and my marriage (reasonably new, at 2 years); sleep deprivation; various anxieties (big and small) about whether I was doing the right thing; and often feelings of isolation and loneliness (despite having a loving, involved husband to share the journey with). But we also packed up our lives of over 3 years in Cape Town , South Africa , to move back to Australia , via 3 months in New Zealand . With four animals and all the logistics that involved (quara...

Continuing from my previous blog posts, this is the fourth installment in a short series discussing the massacre of a few weeks ago at a Lonmin mine in Marikana , South Africa . I have felt that the general discourse (if discussed at all) among average people has been ‘what’s wrong with shooting a bunch of protesting miners, when they had been violent and even apparently committed murder (two policemen were killed in the preceding week)?’ Well, a lot, actually. In my previous posts I have discussed the most obvious levels first: 1. DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES; and 2. HUMAN RIGHTS. Then the previous post started digging a bit deeper into.... 3. A CULTURE OF VIOLENCE In this post, I will be digging even deeper… and this is where I start to really step on people’s toes… 4. Exploitation and ‘Structural Violence’: Taking another look at my admonishment in the preceding post to ‘build peace’ rather than ‘increase security’ (i.e. arm yourself/ protect your property/ militari...

Continuing from my previous blog post, ‘Today I am crying for Africa’, this is the second installment in a short series discussing the Lonmin massacre of a few weeks ago, and ‘what’s wrong with shooting a bunch of protesting miners, when they had been violent and even apparently committed murder (two policemen were killed in the preceding week)?’ So many levels of wrong... I discussed the most obvious level first: 1. DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES. In this post I will look at another rather obvious level… 2. Human Rights – incl. Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ESCR) Most people would agree that everyone is born equal and free – theoretically at least. This is what all our ‘human rights’ and international agreements are based on. Our modern world, for the most part, at least pays lip service to the concept of all human life being equally valued and human beings having certain ‘inalienable’ rights. Exactly what ‘rights’ these are, is often hotly debated between cultures and ev...

Today I am crying for Africa …crying for a love lost. Crying for the rainbow nation I once believed in. Crying for the shared future I no longer want to be a part of. I wrote these words well before the tragic events of a few weeks ago – the police killing of 34 striking miners at Marikana (and injuring of another 78). I am appalled, although not at all surprised by the events that played out there last week. What I am far more surprised about is the reactions of many of my fellow South Africans – or in fact the LACK of reaction by most. I am embarrassed to be a South African sometimes… and never more so than to have heard more discussion in the past weeks about the return of that ridiculous melodrama, ‘Dallas’ (ironically about the so-called glamour of people in the mining industry – yes, those very high up in the food chain)… than about the tragic events (and the terrible conditions that have pushed workers into embracing such violence) in our own local mining industry....

ID books - Fascist relics of the apartheid era: ever stopped to wonder why we still tolerate them? Without a “green bar-coded ID book” in South Africa today, you can’t open a bank account, have a “cell” phone account, or any other sort of account, you can’t sign a rental agreement or buy a car, you can’t even register to VOTE (as I recently discovered)!! This infuriates me, makes me feel like a dodgy illegal immigrant in the country of my birth, and has often resulted in me saying “I just can’t wait to move back to Australia ”. Now hang on a minute, you might say- isn’t it essential to avoid voter fraud by identifying people when they register to vote – ensuring they are actually South African citizens? Well, I would answer that a passport should be good enough – and South African passports still have the fascist tracking (ID) number in it anyway, along with a photo – it’s valid for official identification all around the world. I should not have been disqualified from voting, as...

The ocean's salty breath caresses me as I step out of my cluttered little world of cabin-fever cats and unread books piled high (their shrill voices demanding attention even from the other side of the city)... I step out, and the big wide world greets me, the moody green ocean is eager to wrap me in salty embraces - "never mind all that...come and be with me, breathe deeply, I am already a part of you...remember..."

Those stupid, plastic-looking people in the posters on the wall of the "industry medical" doctors' office!! I can see them still, in my resentful mind's eye. Smiling down on me as I sat waiting for my "pre-employment" medical. Like some sort of work horse, in days gone by, having its teeth and legs checked for any health problems, defects..."Must get our money's worth from these little workers. Don't want any hassles or issues". The poster people are all perfect little workers, "professionals" - well groomed, smiling cheesy smiles, dressed according to their professions...and   vanilla.   So vanilla, so pastel, I want to puke. One's got a headset (call centre person, like I may be soon?) and another is typing away like a good little office amoeba. Erggg. And of course there's a man in a hard hat, and another...oh who cares - they are like clones of "the ideal system fodder" in various shades of pastel. Ergg...

Thoughts on the pope's visit, human rights and the freedom to speak... I walked past the pope having breakfast today on my way to work. He was surrounded by many red mini-popes, but not much obvious security – it seemed as if I could easily have walked up to him and started a conversation. What would I have asked him? I wondered about this as I continued walking up the street, and nearly bumped into a group of students protesting about ‘victims of hope’ – I wasn’t sure what they meant exactly, but felt strangely tempted to tell them the pope was just around the corner, if they wanted to move their protest somewhere more noticeable…I resisted the urge, and continued through the grey streets in the chilly early morning – noticing the gradual build-up of fluoro-daypack wearing pilgrims filtering into Sydney’s CBD. What do they all hope to get out of this week? Are they ‘victims of hope’ too? Their youthful hope in such a materialistic, ostentatious religion seems to me misplace...