RECLAIMING OUR PRIDE
by Damaria Senne

Most of the time I’m very proud to be South African and am happy to chat with my international friends about events that are taking place in my country. I’m proud of the way we have managed to stop apartheid without having a protracted civil war. I’m proud of the way we have created laws that protect all our citizens regardless of their race, gender, age or sexual orientation. And I’m proud of our history, our culture, or food and the stories that I hope we will pass on to the next generation.

Unfortunately, there are times when I’m not proud to be South African. Our crime rates are high, and there are even claims that we have the highest rape and murder incidences in the world. I don’t know if that is true. What I do know is that for a country that has a relatively small population (46 million) we reported between 66,000 to 70,000 cases of rape or sexual assault every year, from 2003 to 2010. Many more cases remain unreported.

We also have a high rate of instances of women and child abuse. Some of the cases are reported and dealt with according to the law, but a high rate remain unreported, or don’t make it to court. The editor of one of the major newspapers in this country (The Mail and Guardian) even went so far as to say that there is a war against women in this country. That is very disturbing.

Which is the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence Campaign is a very big event in South Africa. Government departments, as well as non-profit organizations, have planned a number of activities to commemorate the event and to encourage South Africans to join the global campaign against gender violence.

About 16 Days Activism Against Gender Violence Campaign

The 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence is an international campaign originating from the first Women's Global Leadership Institute sponsored by the Center for Women's Global Leadership in 1991.
Participants chose the dates, November 25, International Day Against Violence Against Women and December 10, International Human Rights Day, in order to symbolically link violence against women and human rights and to emphasize that such violence is a violation of human rights.

This 16-day period also highlights other significant dates including November 29, International Women Human Rights Defenders Day, December 1, World AIDS Day, and December 6, which marks the Anniversary of the Montreal Massacre.

The 16 Days Campaign has been used as an organizing strategy by individuals and groups around the world to call for the elimination of all forms of violence against women.

Support the campaign

There are many things, big and small, that you can do to support the campaign. Here are some of them:

--Blog about violence against women some time during the campaign period. Get your readers thinking about this problem and what they can do to help.

--Volunteer at a women’s shelter

--Make it a point to talk to your children, grandchildren, and other young people in your life about violence against women.

--Report the abuse if someone within your family or community is perpetrating violence another individual. And let’s not be blind. Violence against men and boys also happens with disturbing frequency, though it is not talked about that much.

As for me, I’m working with Shukumisa, a campaign that is coordinated by 26 non-profit organizations, to shake up society’s views on sexual violence. The organizations operate nationally/locally. Many of them plan to visit communities, get people talking, distribute material which encourage citizens to take action or get help if they are being abused.

I'll leave you with a video of a public service announcement of an incident that took place in Johannesburg. This video was a test by a non-profit organization to assess our communities’ response to violence against women.

"Invictus" [Latin for "invincible" or "unconquerable"] takes its title from a short poem by the English poet William Ernest Henley written in 1875 and first published in 1888 as part of a series of poems entitled Life and Death (Echoes). [See the entire text below.] Its last two lines are famous: "I am the master of my fate/I am the captain of my soul."

In the film, this poem served as a source of inspiration during Nelson Mandela's long imprisonments. From his first arrest in 1962 through 1990 at both Robbin Island off the coast of Cape Town and at Pollsmoor Prison nearer the mainland Mandela knew the life of a prisoner first hand.

"Invictus" becomes a unifying symbol in the film as Mandela gives the poem to Springbok captain, Francois Pienaar, before the Rugby World Cup. In fact, Mandela gave Pienaar an extract from Theodore Roosevelt's "The Man in the Arena" speech from 1910.

Clint Eastwood's sons Kyle Eastwood, who contributed original music, and son Scott Eastwood, cast as one of the Springboks, show some of the range in the Eastwood family. The film's uplifting score features the capella singing group "Overtone" from Johannesburg.

Director Clint Eastwood deftly shapes "Invictus" with strong performances by stars Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon. "Invictus" is a film of enormous integrity and heart.

INVICTUS
by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Find more videos like this on Kwanda

Damaria has been a blogging buddy for several years. We met Last year in South Africa. She took me to Phokeng, her family's village (a kingdom, really!) last August.--JGR

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Imagine if hundreds of volunteers across a country began working together.

When I was growing up in Phokeng, the need for community members to work hard to improve their living conditions and their fellow-man was taught to us at a very early age. I also saw this commitment to community in action.

For example, in the early 70s, families from my side of the village each contributed a couple of Rands [SA currency] to buy building materials to build Kgale Primary School, where I started my elementary school education.

This meant that children would no longer have to travel about 10 kilometers by foot from where I lived, to attend school in the central village. I also saw this commitment to doing for oneself demonstrated by my neighbors, who sometimes had to cart water and sand from a nearby dam to build their homes themselves.

So I was very excited when I was asked to develop web content for KWANDA, a South African community makeover TV show.

So what is Kwanda?

Kwanda means ‘wealth’ and ‘growth’ and the show bills itself as the first community make-over show in the world.

Reality TV Show in South Africa: Re-making of a Community

A few months ago, volunteer teams were recruited across South Africa. They were trained to organize themselves and subsequently filmed as they work together addressing some of the biggest challenges their communities face.

The volunteers have been helping orphans, reducing alcohol abuse and alcohol-related violence, generating income, creating jobs and reducing new HIV infections in their communities. KWANDA shows their journey.

During the series, audiences will follow the drama, tensions, successes and challenges of these ordinary people. And, at the end of the series, in a live finale, the television audience will reward the team they believe has made the biggest difference with a major prize.

To help communities make ends meet, an innovative fashion project called Kwanda Klothing will be launched during the TV series.

A team of designers have put together an urban street wear collection, the production of which was undertaken by a collective production facility in each community, creating jobs and teaching valuable entrepreneurial skills at the same time.

To counter the seasonal lull that is characteristic of the fashion industry, a number of unique corporate promotional products are already being produced.

So, other than the history of how I grew up, why does this project resonate with me so much?

On a broader level, I love the concept of ordinary people working hard to improve their lives and helping their fellow-men. I’m sure Janet has lost count of the number of times I’ve said that the answer to Africa’s development lies inside of us, not from the outside.

Not that help is not appreciated! But doing for yourself not only yields results, it also empowers people and gives them confidence in their abilities to take care of themselves.

I also like the fact that volunteering is being popularised in South Africa, and people who want to get more involved in their communities will learn from the experiences of the communities they watch.

And as a writer and blogger, I am happy that I am getting a chance to use my writing to make a difference to society.

I would also like to encourage more writers and bloggers to use their talents to make a difference: tell the inspiring stories of the people in your community who make a difference to society; help a non-profit develop an online presence that communicates their cause more effectively and mobilises supporters; encourage your readers to do something to help their communities; tell the next person who reads your blog that they matter and every little bit of help they can give also matters.

Kwanda premiers on the 2 September and will play Wednesdays on SABC 1, one of the stations of the national broadcaster in South Africa.
You can join to be a fan of Kwanda on Facebook.

I'd been noodling with how to re-commence my blogging life, and this seemed to be a good way back in.

Apartheid. It's extraordinary to me that a grown woman in the early 1990s couldn't have known about Apartheid. Here's the beginning of the Wikipedia entry on Apartheid:

Apartheid (meaning separateness in Afrikaans, cognate to English apart and -hood) was a system of legalized racial segregation enforced by the National Party government of South Africa between 1948 and 1990. Apartheid had its roots in the history of colonisation and settlement of southern Africa, with the development of practices and policies of separation along racial lines and domination by European settlers and their descendents.

So, at that time, the time the best-selling romance author didn't know what Apartheid was, Apartheid had just ended, and it was a HUGE victory for humankind, for human rights. It's beyond belief that anyone in the entire kingdom of the world could not have known not only what it was, but that it had ended...and the enormous costs of that ending.

Getting to Know Apartheid First Hand, Just a Little

When I lived and worked in Botswana (twice) in the 1970s, I went through South Africa mostly for travel. During one period, I had to frequently go there in order to return to Botswana and refresh all my permits and visa as I struggled to get legal.

During that time, I understood ever more fully the destructiveness and crushing-ness of Apartheid. I couldn't even walk with Black African friends on the streets.

My parents, when they came to visit me, on their way up to Botswana, still in Johannesburg, got on the wrong bus...the one for blacks. The Black Africans on the bus waved frantically to them to get off. My parents were slow on the uptake, but obeyed instructions. To them, it was just a bus, not part of an intricate system of oppression.

To be in South Africa now, Post-Apartheid, was such a joy, such a relief.

Seeing Color as a Way of Honoring

In conversation with my blogging buddy Damaria Senne at her kitchen table in Johannesburg recently, we spoke about how folks say, "Well, I don't see color." We both laughed, expressing how outrageous we felt this belief to be.

I said, "I want to say to these people. 'Oh, is there something wrong with your eyesight? Have you been having problems focusing recently?'" And then we laughed some more.

And then Damaria, with her delightfully wicked sense of humor, said, "Yes, maybe we could loan these people some glasses that would allow them to see color and all the rest that makes each of us unique."

And we continued talking, in perfect agreement that seeing color was not the same as being a racist and that to see color is to honor the completeness of the person you are seeing. To see color is be comfortable with color: one's own and others'.

We Walk Down the Street...Together

And, now, in 2008, 18 years Post-Apartheid, Damaria Senne and I can walk together all around her neighborhood and over to a street with swanky shops without fear of being picked up by the police simply because a white woman and a black woman walked together. A black woman and a white woman walking together? It is unremarkable, as it should be.

So, no matter what anyone wants to say about the state of the nation...we have now have that in South Africa. And, to me, that's quite a bit.

Internationally, there is also pressure about what Africa and South Africa are about, and a vague prescription as to what stories I should tell. Africa is a dark continent, and as a Black woman, I represent the disadvantaged. Zulu culture is assumed to be the de facto Black South Africans’ culture. And the folktales are mostly about Anansi.

My children’s stories should depict children who walk miles to draw water, not those who struggle to understand why the fairy godmother never shows at her house after they lost teeth, but does so at her Caucasian friend’s house.

When my daughter was born, I discovered a new reason to tell stories I liked, in my own words, no pressure. She’s growing up in a city, away from most of our relatives, so my stories are also about building her sense of identity. “These are the people to whom you were born, the people who are part of your history,” my stories say.

I also attempt to bridge the gap between Western culture, which she assimilates through friends, books, TV, the internet and magazines and our traditions and culture. “Batswana have too many rules,” she complains. Most cultures do, I tell her.

Sometimes the stories I tell are just meant to entertain her. I am also her reservoir of memories she no longer remembers; storer of the images of people she doesn’t remember meeting. “Tell me about me about the time when I….” she loves to prompt me.

I am painfully conscious of the fact that some stories are lost across the generations. My father used to urge me to visit old people in the village and ask them to tell me what stories they remember. I visited some of them, but mostly I was “busy” and their stories are gone with them.

My daughter and I spend more time watching TV, playing on the Internet, watching movies/other people’s stories rather than sharing our own. That, I suppose, is the price we pay for living in modern times.

She also has to deal with the scepticism that is a natural part of modern life. Last December I wanted to take her up the small hill near our home in Phokeng and she wouldn’t go. “What’s out there,” she asked suspiciously, wary of the small forest, city child that she is.

“Ralelatlha’s foot,” I said.

The vague imprint of a giant foot on a flat piece of rock was an object of legend and curiosity when I was growing up.

Many Setswana folktales and legends begin with ‘long, long ago, when the rocks were still soft…” So I grew up wondering if Raleletlha’s foot was proof that the rocks truly used to be soft and the giants walked the earth alongside men.

“Oh please don’t tell me you believe in Big Foot?” my daughter laughed when I explained footprint.

My hope is that she will pass on some of the stories to her children and that through the stories and her kids will learn to appreciate the people my parents and grandparents were.