So I spent an incredible enriching evening two nights ago in King Williams Town. My travelling companion for this particular trip, Simphiwe, ran in to Nkosinathi Biko at the airport while I made my way to the terminal. The next thing I knew, we had a dinner date about 60km from East London.

As the GPS got more confused, we came across a large building round about 7pm and I said to Simpihiwe, it must be around here somewhere near that shopping mall. Well, the "mall" turned out to the the Steve Biko Centre, smack in the middle of a township and I thought, "whoa!"

What followed was a magical evening. Nkosinathi met us at the entrance and proposed a guided tour of the facilities. I was suitably humbled and privileged.

Before we could begin, we met a group of young people who had just finished rehearsing a production in one of the facilities at the centre. A young lady gathered the guts to ask whether Simphiwe would sing with her and she obliged willingly and with grace. A magical moment, enriching in its simplicity and purity followed. Superstar meets township with no airs and graces.

We then went off on the tour and that is when I discovered Nkosinathi. Modest, humble and yet with the deepest sense of self, comfort in one's skin and centred. His knowlegde and thought process is as massive as the place. It is imposing, the facilities impressive and the vision enduring. I saw an arena for theatrical productions, an amphitheatre with great acoustics, children's library, adult library, periodicals section, conference section, kitchen and restaurant (doff hat) and an admin section. The permanent exhibition is as good as anything I have seen elsewhere. Certainly a wealth of enrichment. Context is key.

Then followed (I am cutting a long story short) an excellent dinner conversation. We treated subjects ranging from the meaning of Mbeki, Zuma, Mandela, Zille, Gadaafi and, of course, Robert Mugabe in the context of Black Consciousness. I listened, spoke and shared. I came away enriched beyond words.

Before we knew it, it was midnight and we had to drive back to East London for other assignments the following day. I will be donating a book, from my father's collection, and I will be encouraging as many people to visit as possible. There is great work being done there and I can only but support it. Bravo Nkosinathi. Your father is proud of you. We are proud and we will support your work in our own modest ways. There is work to be done: "A ship in the harbour is safe, but that is not what ships were built for."

As much as I can, I make it my business to talk to locals wherever I am lucky enough to travel. Taxi drivers, waiters and vendors provide a wealth of local knowledge that add to a pleasurable experience. I was on holiday in Inhambane, Mozambique a few weeks ago where we were greeted every morning and late afternoon by locals selling everything from Tiger prawns, crayfish to local clothing and wrist bands. One vendor set himself apart because he was selling portable Xylophones thereby setting himself up as an exclusive supplier.

After he explained to us what it was made from, how to tune it and how his grandfather taught him to make it, I switched the conversation to current events and asked him about RENAMO and renewed threats for a return to war.

I have to say, I was quite moved by the change in voice tone as he, kneeling in the sand by his instruments, literally pleaded with heaven to not allow a recurrence of the civil war.  He used the word "pray" several times as he narrated how his grandfather had told him about how bad the civil war was. He talked about his fear for his safety and, of course, the potential loss of his livelihood as unrest would mean the loss of tourists and the drying up of his business.

Some wars are necessary. When you fight on principle, for something that is universally acknowledged to be right such as taking on Hitler or fighting for independence you have a just war. When wars are driven by an insatiable appetite for resources or simply because oil and gas have been discovered in a region of the country, you have an evil elite causing untold misery to human beings like you and I.

I have a huge problem with this. And who do I think I am? A human being who has seen far too much avoidable suffering and one who appreciates that such misery can easily be inflicted on me, my family and society in general. I am one who has seen fear in the eyes of a xylophone vendor and I can imagine the fear of those who hear or spot drones flying overhead.

I am also one who agrees that for "evil to triumph, all it takes is for the good to do nothing." We will always have evil, it is part of the yin and yang of life itself. It is for this reason that it is demanded of us to exert out influence, however small, for good with what Covey called an abundance mentality, than simply passively give in to the machinations of those with a scarcity mentality.

Neutrality never works. In Zimbabwe for instance, when an estimated 20 000 people perished at the hands of the Fifth Brigade there was little public or international outrage because the majority of Zimbabweans were not affected or the cold war was still running its course. When the chaotic land reform process started a lot of urban people were unconcerned, arguing that some farmers deserved it, until the hordes arrived at the factory gates and started extorting money from business executives. Then of course, you had the widespread violence of the pre and post 2008 elections. Suddenly everyone discovered human rights and called on the world for help.

After the supermarket shelves became full again, the same people do not care for Bahrain, Darfur or Egypt today to cite a few examples because they are simply too far away. They are news items, not "our issue."

I hope the prayers of the xylophone vendor will be answered. Otherwise we will continue to hear from the news of about 300 dead in an incident, then to make ourselves feel better thirty dead since Ramadan or Easter instead of saying 330. All these numbers are human beings.

A single man wrote a letter to the press to complain about the arrest of students in Portugal who had raised a toast to freedom and Amnesty International was born. That same single man and woman is you. Here, everywhere and in Mozambique. We must defend what is right, wherever evil wants to wreck havoc.

Icon

I like the Eastern Cape. It's rural areas are like no other I have seen. The rolling hills and valleys, painted huts and the young men on horseback looking like Mongols on the Steppes of Asia and the women with their bundles of firewood inching their way up a steep slope to their homestead. It is a poor area with a wealth of experiences on offer.

It is here that a young Nelson Rolihlala Mandela on the cusp of adulthood, biting back tears of pain after the snip, grit his teeth together and exclaimed "Ndiyindoda!" - I am a man!- only to find to his shock that he really wasn't a man because the land before him, the land of his ancestors was firmly in the grasp of a settler regime. There was no Mandela ville, only King Williamstown, Port Elisabeth and this young son of a chief was more serf than royalty in practice. It was a defining moment for the young Nelson before he could spell the words "long walk to freedom."

But "character is what you do when no one is watching" and young Mandela's journey in to politics arguably started on that day. The rest, you know. He is a global icon and, today, he turned 95.

How great it would be if every African nation celebrated its political icons in much the same way with 67 minutes of this and that. Instead, we are forced to revere our sportsmen and women: Gebresellassie, Weah, Drogba, Bwalya, Milla, Eto, Abedi Pele, Mutola and others.

Madiba and South Africa's liberation would not have been possible without Ben Bella, Cabral, Machel, Kaunda, Mugabe, Nyerere, Neto, Tambo and his other colleagues. Madiba has said so himself on several occasions.

Africa must reprise her history. She must tell it like it has never been told before. As we rightly salute Madiba for the man, politician, leader and icon he is, it is incumbent on us to celebrate our history in its proper context, in our own words and with our own experiences. Every country must have its own "Qunu" sign pointing to a repository of living history that our children can learn from.

Why don't locals own resorts?

 

I have just come back from a break in Inhambane, Mozambique. It is a beautiful coastline with pristine beaches at Barra and Tofo. The locals are warm, friendly and poor. I found myself, as with most holiday spots I have been to, once again asking myself the question: why don't locals own resorts?

I mean, they know how to build the log cabins, thatch them and are employed to do so each time a new developer appears on the scene. Not only do they cook the excellent food on offer, but in Inhambane's case, they bring it in too! Fresh from the sea, every morning! As for local history, who better to narrate it than a local with their sing song accent?

Here is what I would do if I were President of any African country, and only using the tourism sector as an example. At the dawn of independence, I would instruct my Minister of Human Capital development to identify 2000 high school graduates from all over the country with high grades in appropriate subjects and send them off to Switzerland, France, Egypt, Malaysia and other high tourist traffic countries for four years of training. On their return, I would direct the appropriate government body to invest an amount x in to setting up resorts in the various regions of origin of the graduates. Failing that, I would incentivise venture capitalists to invest in the projects. I would also create a government unit made up of very bright people to sit on the boards of the new companies or invite the top 100 businesses to send in their finance people to sit in quarterly board meetings as part of their corporate citizenship efforts. This would help to ensure that the new businesses survive and thrive in their formative years. Assuming a success rate in the order of 80%, 50% if you are cynical, can you imagine the amount of wealth creation one would achieve in the first decade of independence? Extend that to other selected areas of the economy, from retail to airlines, and you have the makings of a Singapore all over Africa.

Given the amount of money which we have spent on sports stadia (nothing wrong with that), hosting political conferences like the Non-Aligned Movement, defense budgets and travel, there is no doubt in my mind that the resources could be found. African development must just not "arise" out of decades of political independence, it must be a consciously driven project that seeks to first create a vast local middle class in the shortest possible time while transferring wealth to those who can manage it and create more jobs for more locals. Example, I know on Reunion Island for instance, that locals participate actively in the tourist economy with the "table d'hote" system which allows them to provide local great local cuisine in their homes to hikers on the hundreds of hiking trails on the island.

Getting jobs from foreign investors who enjoy tax holidays is simply not good enough. By all means, get investment for huge mining concerns and space travel while we work things out but supermarkets? Come! Come! African must grow and must do so all over the continent. I look forward to traveling to resorts where locals own the place (boating, supermarkets, lodges, bus companies, internet cafes, etc etc) and employ more locals because not everyone can be an owner.

African leaders must want a legacy of having served and having served well for posterity.

Get on board!

Our Complicity.
I recall a clip on Sky News showing Kate Middleton, then girlfriend of Prince William, being besieged by press photographers as she tried to leave her flat and get in to her car. It got so bad that a parliamentary committee stated that she had been hounded through such "persistent harassment" that the parliamentary press committee should have protected her.

We love to build them up don't we? Michael Jackson, Jodie Foster, Diana, Justin Bieber, Tiger Woods, Louis Suarez and, of course, Lance Armstrong. God help Usain Bolt if he English, American or lived in those countries. Our insatiable appetite for celebrity news, coupled with mega endorsements designed to sell product, screaming fan idolatry, red carpet interviews and the incessant pressure on extraordinary human beings to go faster, deeper, higher, in short to go beyond extraordinary only succeeds in bringing about the inevitable.

A large number turn to drugs to escape the pressure, others to performance enhancing drugs to keep their demi god status going as demanded by an unyielding public. It is no excuse and it certainly does not apply in all cases, but what is our role in helping push them over the edge? How do they get to the point to when they lose sight of their craft and try and sustain an image beyond its sell-by date simply because we demand it? We deride them when their powers begin to fade, booing soccer, NBA, baseball stars off the field of play because they do not meet our exacting demands of what a superstar performance ought to be. Then for hours after a performance, "experts and analysts" dissect them on prime time television saying the voice is gone, the accent in a particular acting role is pathetic, speculating without any shred of evidence on how and why they are failing us and, thereafter, we discard them like dirty handkerchiefs. Everybody wants to be loved, to feel appreciated and they turn to all manner of artificial means to keep their image going. What is next Pippa Middleton's sagging bottom, Justin Bieber's voice, Usain Bolts slowing speed or Barack Obama's fading charisma? Why the pressure on young Messi and Ronaldo on who is greater, season after season?

When Hollywood stands up as one to applaud the likes of Whitney Houston on their comebacks, they send us a message that says you do not understand us but we understand and love each other. We forgive you because we know what we go through as performers. This is why Jodie Foster got the biggest cheers of the night at the Golden Globes when she said, "If you had been a public figure from the time that you were a toddler, if you had to fight for a life that felt real and normal and honest against all odds, then maybe you too might value privacy above all else,"

Give them a break. They are human.

I found the following from Ralph Waldo Emmerson quite fascinating: "The man is only half himself, the other half is his expression." It fascinates me because of its simple and yet profound truth. I suspect that if one wants peace and to be left all alone, all one has to do is be half a man. When dictators break the law of the land killing and maiming, looting and plundering and you want to survive, all you have to do is not give expression to your feelings.

We know that this is not true otherwise there would not be approximately 30 000 dead in Syria today and hundreds of thousands of others in all the conflicts, manufactured or genuine, all around the world.

When you give expression as a human being, you almost immediately put yourself in the firing line which could take the form of dismissal from work because you blew the whistle, assassination because you revealed an act of corruption, being ostracised because you dared speak your mind or being criticised by a literary critic or rival philosopher because you espoused a novel idea or thought.

What to do?

Well consider those who die without ever having given expression to their selves. Imagine the folk who refuse to participate in a rebellion against dictatorship and end up dying from an indiscriminate bombing campaign anyway? What about staff who are retrenched because they did not stand up to the CEO's shenanigans when this could have prevented a company collapse? There are countless examples of people who refuse to go to the front but are the first to have their nicely tended houses taken over for the comfort of occupying army officers.

What is to live?

It is to give expression to self through music, art, writing, protest or the mere hoisting of a flag. It is to bellow  the war cry even when the battle might soon be lost. It is William Wallace shouting a defiant freedom, just before being put to death.

When you give expression to self, your life becomes one that has been fully lived and probably helped to advance mankind, even for an inch. Go on, express yourself. You might just change the world for the better.

http://www.newsday.co.zw/article/2012-09-24-innerzelanew-generation/