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Sunday, 23 August 2009 17:10

23

Aug

2009

Death is sad. But its not that sad. What's really sad is all the sad things that occur in life. I think death's sadness is framed, limited, because of inevitability- whereas the sadness of occurrences amongst living people can often be prevented, cured or softened. The sadness of life stings with the realistic venom of guilt and regret.

Until very recently, (that is about an hour ago) I argued my in-born philanthropy on grounds of social justice, levels of privilege, fairness, equity and even wwjd. But what I have just realised is that we don't have to help because we have to. We have to help because we want to.

Do you  have to help then? No. Should you help? Perhaps. Can you help? Naturally. Most importantly: are you so inclined? Do you want to give up something of your own, of yourself? That I guess depends on how much of life's beauty you have seen. It depends on how much love you have been given. Without realising how full and lucky we are, we will never give a shit about anyone else, because we are still in fighting mode, fighting for our own success, acceptance and love.

As we fight our own battle, we seem to view the sad faces of suffering or underprivileged kids as threats. Threats to our wealth, joy and bliss. Little mouths that wants to turn our holidays and brand names into bread and education and dreams. How dare they...

I know someone, or should I say I have met someone that says 'poor people are poor because they want to be poor'. This guy who says this, he doesn't owe anyone anything, he a so called self-made man does not have to help. I wont argue with him. However, what I do find very very strange, is that he is not so inclined, I find it strange that his love for his pregnant wife and unborn child does not extend to you black boys and girls that he does not know. And if he argues that his love does extend to them, I find it strange that he does not extend his money to them.

It equally upsets me when I view and treat people as things, faces, names, profiles- projections that are not special, beautiful and amazing. That I can look at another human being, be it at the traffic light, shop counter, shopping mall or restaurant, and not see the miracle, that I find so sad that I would call it a tragedy. Me, being face to face with another human being and not recognising the miracle of their humanity is tragic.

At the end of any epiphany or revelation follows a brutal question of relevancy: so bloody what? What are you going to do about it? How will this change what you do, with your time, energy, skills and bucks? Not because you have to, but because you want to.

Do you want to?

Are you going to?

What?
 
WHO DECIDES? Print E-mail
Sunday, 09 August 2009 21:26

09

Aug

2009

Most people would agree that autonomy and ownership lies at the heart of development. It seems unnecessary to mention that in their pursuit of ‘freedom' (Sen 1998) community members need to show the confidence to choose the pursuit of things that they deem important and to do so in ways that they view as appropriate. Nothing revolutionary in this I guess.
Yet, an academic that recently visited GDM was heard saying to a colleague, with a clear sense of disapproval: "GDM is only about the first team football... they don't understand that they don't have a choice, they have to do it [i.e. development management as taught in Western universities]". Now, one can sympathise with the young Masters student, since she was taught in a world where people feel clever when they invent categories like sport-plus vs. plus-sport projects and where community projects are donor driven and steered according to quantified models and indicators of donor defined monitoring and evaluation.
My reaction to the ‘they are only worried about the A-team football' was initially: "what nonsense, it is not so!', but then I realised: "So what if it was?!" Who am I or this 23 year old white girl from Johannesburg to decide what should be important to the people of Manica? We were not there in 1980 when they formed the club in the middle of a civil war. We were not there for the past 25 years when they kept things going investing their precious time and resources.
But now, if this local expression of a community bettering their own lives does not fit into our box, it validates criticism? Is it not typical of the colonialism and racism stories of the past to decide for black communities what they need and should want? So what if the people of Manica are fanatical about having a great football team that wins games against other teams from central Mozambique? Who are we to rank the importance of activities for people in Manica, whether it is planting carrots, typing on a computer, kicking a football or drinking a beer? I give GDM half my salary, lived there for 6 years and I don't assume the arrogance to decide what Manicans should value and when.
So, today GDM played the last game of the Provincial phase of the league. We won and with that edged out Vumba and Despo de Chimoio to be the Provincial champions of Manica. The whole town is celebrating and going wild with joy. I've had sms's from Beira, Nampula in the north and Maputo in the South; all friends of GDM that heard the news on the radio, all Manicans very proud of ‘their' home-grown club. But, am I allowed to celebrate? Should I be happy and brag about this achievement that follows months of hard work? Or should I lament that the whole country is not rather talking about our under-14 female life-skills curriculum launched in a local primary school and monitored and quantitatively measured?
For those who is into the vision of- and understands what football means to the men, women, boys and girls of Manica: thanks for the support and happy celebrations.
For those that can't be excited about something as trivial as a football team: sorry, we will be back to computers, capacity building, organisational charts, strategic planning, report writing, minute taking, money counting, gender empowerment, English lessons, chess, research and objectives clarification, first thing tomorrow morning.
 

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