Oh Burning Saltire, you have Sparked our Revolution

"People shouldn't be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people."

Hmph. It has always made me sigh. Most people would agree that you can read and re-read that statement and every time think eish, it's powerful, but it will never be possible. First of all, People shouldn't fear their government, of course they shouldn't. It's common knowledge that a government should have no reason to be feared of. What kind of world is it where you fear your government? Your government has a number one priority - your health and welfare, your life and the positive direction that it will, or rather - should take. 

Unfortunately, that's exactly why you fear your government. You will never not fear something that has a power over your life. Essentially, the government controls your life and if you're happy with that, you really need to give yourself a shake. 

Are you ever cold at night or hungry in the morning? Scrounging for gas money or going without electricity? Going to work with no food in you're bag and walking home because the public transport is too expensive? It's not okay and you shouldn't let it become the norm. We live in a nation where the number of billionaires has doubled... alongside the number of food banks. Benefits are cut as train prices rise and wages are lowered as the cost of bread flies high.

Of course, different families have different views, depending on where they sit on the poverty scale. Few will make a passing comment around a lively, mouth-watering dinner table. Some will huff and puff as they walk through the pissing rain. Others will wonder why the politicians have just received a wage bonus while they lie on the floor of a one bedroom flat occupied by a family of three, where the fridge is empty and the shower runs cold. Not going to lie, the latter is me and i'm not okay with it.

There is no light at the end of the poverty tunnel and more and more families are finding themselves here. Single mums and redundant families, teenagers and children. This is happening, right under your nose. It's happening while millions of pounds rot in the bank accounts of the old and the elite, millions of pounds waiting to be returned to a government that will merely pass it onto the next budding politician.

There is only one way forward: we have to fight our social injustice and take a stand against our flawing government.

So how do you get a government to fear you? Or rather, at the least, notice you? You question them and you question them good. You question everything about them. Take their tattered politics and stuff them into the minds of teenagers. Exploit their  weaknesses and their screwed up priorities.  Show the world your manacles and the bruises that they leave on your skin. Let the government know that you are not happy, you are not satisfied with the difficulties that your generation are yet to face. Let them know that you know something has to change. Question why our nation has doubled in billionaires yet doubled in foodbanks.  Gather like-minded people. Start a campaign.  Hold a referendum. Vote yourself out of the system. Start a revolution.

That's exactly what we did. 

With a population of only 5 million in a governed nation of 64 million, Scotland was hardly receiving the financial support that it required, deserved and worked for. Every penny of income whether it be from our oil enriched land or our good old whisky sales would go straight into the union. That money is then spent, apparently equally, over the United Kingdom of Scotland, England, Northern Ireland and Wales. Westminster -commonly known as Westmonster- spends that money from London, the home to our Government and Mr David Cameron, our Prime Minister. During the run up to the referendum, people started to question where our income was spent. 

It should of course be spent on the likes of  schools, hospitals, housing and education. It also wouldn't go a miss to introduce a wage rise and a drop in public transport fares. How about some new council jobs for street cleaning and pipe gutting, or an investment in private and family owned businesses? 

The people of Scotland started to realize that all this time, all our lives, we have been robbed of so much wealth and possibility. People, young people, started to question the basic issue - Why are we governed under the wing of the West Monster? Why is, a powerful, beautiful and rich land like ours, manacled and bled dry of it's own independence? 

We shouldn't have to depend on the crusts that the Union tries to spare us. We can support ourselves with our own income. We shouldn't have to huff and puff because our minority population can't even impact the government votes. We can run our own government. 

We can live in a country where our people make our choices. Where our people spend our money. Where our opinions matter and our life's are treated fairly. Where we are free.

We were presented with this opportunity of independence on a silver platter. Take it, the world said. Decline it, Westminster argued. Those of us who believed in an independent Scotland fought through campaigns and positivity, good humor and canvasing. Those who believed in the Union fought through fear mongering, desperation and lies. Stay with the Union, they said. You will get this and you will get that, you will have more powers, they said. Don't leave us, they said. If you do, you will loose this and you will loose that and you won't be a part of this and you can't have a share of that.

A few days before the referendum of September 18th 2014, updated polls were released. A landslide Yes Vote of 60% was expected. Sky news said so. The BBC said so. Facebook said so. People in the streets said so. Hills have Ayes climbed mountains high and low all over Scotland and left behind them messages of hope and a brighter future. A glowing YES floated off the shore of Largs. Cars and windows and bins and lampposts were plastered with stickers and Saltires. People wore badges and people were talking. People were voting. The biggest turn-out in Scottish history.

And so I happily sauntered into the polling station that day, to play my part and Vote Yes for an Independent Scotland. I wore my badge and ticked my card. I slid my paper into the box and smiled at the gloomy-looking staff behind the desk. I felt confident and proud. 

I woke up the next morning to Radio 1. 

54% of the Scottish Population had voted no. Somehow, we had lost 6% of the Yes voters within a few days. I call bullshit. Within hours, the world was talking. Russia's Vladimir openly speaks of our votes being rigged. News spreads that ballot boxes were tampered with, votes went missing, Yes cards were put in No piles and fire alarms were raised at Counting Warehouses. They start to call the yes voters the 45, as in the 45%. Some are proud of this while most don't believe that we are only the 45%. Suddenly people are talking about their dinner on facebook and the radio goes back to Kim Kardashian. The media tells the world that Scotland has rejected it's independence. 

The streets are quiet and people are dazed. Work is crap and it should have been an off-day.

Later that night, riots break out in Glasgow. Are the Yes voters angry because we lost? No, it's the No voters. It's also the Scottish Defense League. Hard-core No Voters. A Scottish man holds a Saltire high. He takes a light to the flag and he burns it into thin air. He is Scottish and he burns the flag of our land, the flag of our culture, the flag of our people and the flag that held our hope. The flag that will one day be just another symbol of revolution. Flares are fired into crowds and rowdy alcoholics get violent. A young girl is stabbed here, a young girl is threatened there. The Saltire is ripped from her hands. Police horses are caught in the havoc and someone has been shot. If you voted Yes, you were under threat. They got what they wanted yet they throw you to the ground and beat you for believing in Scotland. Someone pulls onto your side of the road, rolls down the window and gives you the finger for wearing a yes badge. A new kind of Segregation is spreading in Scotland. Put away your Saltire, the police say. You cannot wave that here tonight. 

 

If you're reading this and you're American, Russian, South African, whatever you are... imagine for one moment being told that you cannot fly your own flag in your own country.

They thought it would be over but it will never be over. As they say, the dream will never die. If anything, it's more alive than ever. Whether the votes were rigged or not, a mass population of No Voters have already declared they would vote Yes in another referendum. Westminster have already taken back their promises, rendering them as lies. Alex Salmond has resigned as the first minister of Scotland, declaring his signature for no further referendum void and the possibility of another well on the way. 

An age-related vote count was released. 70% of the No Voters were over the age of 65. That means, that the huge majority of yes voters were of the younger generation. The generation that will still be around to feel the impact of the referendum.

Part two of this blog is well on it's way. For now, here's some photo's from the night of the NO result. Take note of the atmosphere of these photographs and compare it to that of the photo's in part two.

George Square Violence - Not my Photo

George Square Violence - Not my Photo

George Square Violence - Not my Photo

George Square Violence - Not my Photo

George Square Violence - Not my Photos

 

Off with his head...

07.09.2014

For the past week or so, Largs has been alive with the annual Viking festival. It's very exciting, an entire section of the shore-front turns into a viking village and the rest of the space is filled with hand-made crafts, worldly foods and fairground rides. One minute someones shouting "Hairy Beast Burger, Canny Beat it!" and the next minute it's "Get yourself a German Sausage!"

Down to the history: the Vikings came from Norway. The Scots didn't like it. At All. They fought it out like the big hairy men that they were. Scotland defeated the Vikings but lost a lot of men in the battle. After their success, they shot firing arrows into the egg-shell ships that were left behind the egg-shell vikings. There was an reenactment of the battle last night, it was very exciting and I think battle reenactments should become a Scottish Sport. It was great to see little kids on top of their parents shoulders screaming "Chop his bloody head off!"

After the battle, we were treated to a show of fire dancers and fire breathers. Talent. One guy singed his Viking beard but swiftly swatted it out. The Scot's got out their bows and arrows and we watched them shoot firing arrows into a Viking Ship, built with a purpose of being destroyed during this festival. The first woman to let an arrow fly set the ship alight, it was very impressive.

Next came the fireworks. They were incredible! I hadn't seen fireworks all year in South Africa so it was a nice treat.

Moving on, I GOT A JOB AND I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT! I went for an interview on Friday and left with a job. I passed the assessment with 59/60 and sold my mock item for 50,000 with a stake of 60% to a mock audience, it was a Dragons Den experiment to see how good your selling skills are. So my new job is with Stellar on behalf on Vanquis bank and I start on Monday. I can't wait. I now have something to keep me busy as well as the cash to pass my driving test and save for America.

I went to the shore to play my Djembe. I miss my drum circle so much. Mum messed around with her Poi's. No one told me to be quiet, that's always a bonus.

Drumming on the shore

Festival Fireworks at the Pencil

Viking Rage

Mum and her Poi's

Drum Drum Drum

Fire Breathers at the Festival

#ThisisNotTheEnd

I'm not long home from my Project Trust Debriefing course, a two-day shih-bang that's traditionally held on the Isle of Coll. If you haven't been following my blog, the Isle of Coll is the home sweet home of Project Trust, it's where I had my selection and my training. Debriefing is very important in any situation, it gives you a sense of closure. Closure is something that i've needed. It's difficult to look to the future when you're wishing you could turn back time.

I left Largs on Sunday, taking the train to Glasgow for my three hour train to Oban. I spent a night in a backpackers with the rest of the Project Trust group. We shared our very large debriefing with the volunteers from Malaysia and Hong Kong, who we hadn't seen since training over a year ago. It was so cool to see them and hear their really incredible stories that differed worlds apart from ours. The Malays were impressed with our South African dance moves, we were impressed with their traditional dress and fascinating lack of social skills (joke.)

Reunited with my RASTA SISTA

Dance moves to be proud of

Our night in the backpackers was great fun but a little too much fun for some, I won't mention names but you know who you are! The next morning was exhausting but we managed to wake up bright and early to haul our rucksacks to the harbour in time for the ferry. The ferry to Coll is about three hours long. I used that time wisely and finished my community report for Project Trust. Walking off the ferry brought on some serious de ja vu. The first time I ever stepped off that ferry, I never knew If I'd be coming back. It's been a long journey.

Arriving at the PT center was great fun. We all settled into our rooms and had a nice lunch. Sooner or later, it was time to get into the serious stuff. The whole day was spent reflecting on the past. We analyzed our years, took pride our achievements, realized how we had grown and discussed what we had gained.We spoke about our community reports, global citizenship and global issues that we had witnessed overseas, such as racism, religion, racial segregation and aids.

Each group chose a topic to focus on, ours was the issue of South Africa's Apartheid. Our main discussion went something like this;

Before arriving in South Africa, we only recognized the apartheid as part of South Africa's past. We never  expected to witness the mass effect that apartheid still holds over South Africa. Bars for specific races, superstores where only white people shop and racially segregated towns were few of the obvious  statements. Twenty years ago, black people wouldn't have shopped in that superstore because they weren't allowed to - by law. Apartheid ended a long time ago but it's still grasping onto South Africa. The issues aren't so obvious  in cities like Cape Town, where progress is fast and the past is a thing to be left behind you. It's in the small towns, here and there, where you notice the lingering stares. 

What we found most difficult to deal with was the racism. More specifically, racism from people our own age. Black, white, coloured, anyone, everyone. People our age were born into a democratic South Africa. They were born into an Apartheid-free South Africa. So where does the fear and hatred come from? I can only assume that it has been passed down through the generations that had to suffer the impact of apartheid. It's so frustrating. Falling in love with South Africa can break your heart.

Day Two - it was a day to put the past behind us and look to the future. How could our experience help us? How could Project Trust  continue to assist us? We discussed our hopes and dreams, plans and expectations. We learned how to make the most out of our year. We also discussed the nasty issue of our deportation. I'm confident that my appeal will be attended to; all I can do is wait and see. We also went to the beach.

Beautiful Coll Beach

This didn't work for me

It didn't really work for Katie either

Before our dinner, we had a short closing ceremony. The second John Fraser whipped out the poems, I knew I would be in tears. I was right, I was in tears. This is a poem by Robert Frost. It was also read to us on training, before our South African adventure even truly began. It holds a much stronger grasp on my heart now, after all that i've been through. The poem is called - The Road Not Taken.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

The other South Africans and I had a surprise for our fellow volunteers. We sang "Nkosi Sikeleli", the South African National Anthem. Nkosi Sikeleli Afrika translates to God Bless Africa. We were definitely very enthusiastic with our singing. After the anthem, Kieran burst into Shosholoza, where we followed his random lead and sang the best part of that. After our lovely roast chicken dinner and white wine, we split up to get ready for the CEILIDH! Having a ceilidh is another good old Project Trust tradition. Oh my, it was so exhausting. I danced every second dance and had a drink every second break. It was very hot and sweaty, very busy and even a little bit violent but it was all in good fun.

Partners

The Malaysians in traditional dress

South Africa 13/14 Girls

Partner Love

Ceilidh Fun

The Lads

The whole night was great. The whole course was great. My journey with Project Trust isn't over, it will never be over. As Project Trust said, #ThisisNotTheEnd. PT really like their hashtags. I've got to say though, my new favourite Project Trust Hashtag has to be #ThisisProjectBus. It was a statement made by one of the volunteers who insisted (as a joke) that our fundraising money was spent on pimping out the new PT buses. All Abroad For Africa, Asia and The Americas!

#OverandOut

Settling into the unsettled

Don't get me wrong, I'm doing alright. Life back home is just far from life in South Africa. I signed on with the notoriously ridiculous job center, hoping they would support me while I find work. So far, they have told me I can't go to my Project Trust Debriefing and won't be paid until I've been here for three months. I was born here, I've lived here my whole life! That's what you get for spending a year doing something worthwhile - a slap in the face.

Not to worry, I'm definitely going to my debriefing. It's a closure course back on the Isle of Coll, where it all began. Apparently, I can only go if I sign something to state i'll come home immediately if I'm offered a job. I've also got to search for jobs while I'm on Coll. That's fabulous considering there's no wifi.There isn't even a phone signal. Shh. As far as not paying me is concerned, if they don't, I can't afford to sign on every fortnight. It's a lose-lose situation. They then had the cheek to ask me what i'll do if I can't find a job. Er, DIE?

Other than that, it's okay. I spend my days wondering what to do then realize I have no money to do anything. I'll walk the dog, clean the flat and pace around for a few hours. Speaking of the flat, that's my new home. Mum had to move here while I was away. It's only got one bedroom but that's okay. South Africa toughened me up. I might be moving in with my brother soon, that will be alright so long as i'm not considered the house maid. 

The neighbours across the hall are encouraging me to lose my faith in humanity. I'm yet to actually see them face to face. I don't fancy doing so, for fear of what loss I'll see in their eyes. They scream, they shout. They leave their empty blue bags in the hallway. They fight, they stab, they spray blood across our door. They play techno on repeat until four in the morning. They beg that we call the police and then treat us like dirt. They stole our complimentary box of DVD's and replaced it with a box of cereal. They accuse our dog of being a devil and then break their own window in.

Other than the flats of death, Largs is a lovely town. The views are beautiful and the sun sets are incredible. There will be a massive viking festival on soon. With that comes good entertainment and good food.That will be something to keep me busy,  I can't wait. An unaware local thought my dreads meant I was a viking. Oh dear, I suppose it doesn't get more Scottish than that. 

As soon as I have some form of income, I can move on with my America plans. I'm still confident that i'll be out there by February. Note that I said "out there" and not "out of here". There will be a detailed post on that soon. I'm thinking of starting a new blog called something like Conversations with a Generation. I've overheard and heard so much bad word recently that should definitely be publicized.

A beautiful view of Arran and Millport from Largs

And a lovely view of Largs Town

I Can't Believe You're Bloody Deporting Us

There's too much to write about my last two months in South Africa, so have some photographs instead. I've been back in Scotland for a week now. I'm still settling in, everything is very new and shiny yet it all looks too familiar. We didn't just leave South Africa, we got DEPORTED! Leaving in style. Visa problems. I've been banned from South Africa for twelve months but i've made an appeal because that just can't be. #ThisisprobablynotProjectTrust

I'm working on another post about being back home and my upcoming plans of the USA and Jamaica.

Last Shift Tantrums

The day we visited the Grand West Casino 

Blouberg Beach

Our second to last day at the Children's Home

With Katie on Blouberg

Drumming for the International Maths Olympiad at the University of Cape Town

Our very last day at the Children's Home

That time we went to Julians for a Braii

Chicken Braii Chicken Braii

When Katie and I had an end of year-hair crisis

Drumming on Long Street with Katie

University of Cape Town drumming

Mzoli's Drum Fun

The guy that pee'd in the plant pot

Two of my favourite people

The time Katie and I climbed Signal Hill to watch the Sun Rise and there was none

Johannesburg

Signal Hill, Cape Town

The Man and his Mountain

Overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity. It is an act of justice. It is the protection of a fundamental human right, the right to dignity and a decent life. - Nelson Mandela

Although Cape Town is very westernized, it's far from free of poverty. There are probably more citizens in the townships than in the suburbs. The townships are frequent and overpopulated where as the suburbs are sparse and spacey. Even then, in the midst of those wealthy suburbs, you will find homeless men under trees and family's on street corners. 

Durbanville is a very large suburb and might be described as a "white area". However, it is a prime example of racial segregation. The center of Durbanville is very well structured. There are fancy apartments, fast food restaurants, holiday homes and a large 'Pic N Pay' Store. There aren't many black customers in 'Pic N Pay'. That's just how it is. The ironic thing is, you're barely ever served by a white person.

Walking down the main road, the apartments become less "fancy." 'Checkers' appears, the seemingly middle-class supermarket. 'Checkers' has an equal mix of customers. Black, white, coloured, everyone, anyone. Coloured isn't a racist term in South Africa, it's the official name for a particular race. Saying that, not all coloured people define themselves by the colour of their skin. Some are coloured by Culture. 

It's some-what of a modern race. When the apartheid ended, people could be with who they wanted to be with, regardless of their skin colour. Before that, it was illegal. The apartheid ended only twenty years ago, meaning democracy in this country is as young as I am. Alongside a new government and a new way of life, the ending of apartheid encouraged a baby boom. 

So you've passed 'Checkers' and you're still walking.  It's a long road. There are no more apartments. There's a China Town, a few individual businesses and a taxi rank. This part of Durbanville is home to the 'Shoprite' Store. If you're a white person in this store, you're probably the only one.

Plastic advertisements are replaced with painted walls and white stickers stamped "safe abortion" have appeared on every bin, post box and lamp post. You rarely see a white person. Only five minutes ago, you rarely seen a black person. You're wondering what has happened. Why do they live so close together yet live lives a thousand miles apart? South Africa's apartheid wound is yet to heal. It's going to take a lot of time and a lot of faith. People still hold hope in their hearts, they believe in South Africa.

You see success alongside progress alongside forgotten tin homes and angry citizens. You see faith and you see sadness. You see smiles and you see tears. There's a different township around every corner, there's a new born baby on almost every back and there's a man with a story under every road-side tree.

There's a certain homeless man in Durbanville, who's story I wish I knew. Some say he was once a child at our home. You often see him sleeping on the road side or sitting by the gas station. People are kind to him. In Scotland, most citizens would go out of their way to avoid homeless people. That's heart breaking and it's awful...but it's how it is, is it not? But here, this man, these people, it's incredible. A few days after Christmas, he was clean shaven and he had a new hair cut. His torn flats were replaced with flip flops and he wore new jeans and a woolen jumper. Someone thought of him.

He's never left in the rain. He sits inside the warm gas station, where he can watch TV and sip on a coffee. He always chats away to himself as if he's sat with his best friend. People pop in for airtime or to buy some treats. They will say hello to him and kindly be on their way. I'm going to miss this kind of human behavior. It's not even a behavior, it's humanity and it's how it should be. The people of this country carry a very special word in their hearts- Ubuntu. It is a way of life. What hurts you, hurts me. 

Some people blame homelessness on homeless people. I don't think that's fair. People don't choose to live  a life of suffering. Every man has a mountain to climb. Some are hiking Goat Fell on a warm summers day. Other's are faced with the rocky uncertainty that is Mount Everest. Back to the man in Durbanville, all he needs is a helping hand on his way back to contentment. The people of Durbanville are giving him that help. 

We are all at the fault of poverty, it is a human creation and It can be taken away with human effort. We all have the ability to take away someones pain and suffering. Family's don't need to starve in Africa, children don't need to die of diarrhea and babies don't need to die of thirst. Yet, they do. Every day, every hour, every minute, every second. People have forgotten how to help. They want to but they don't. They feel bad about it but they don't act on it. 

The next time your television advertises poverty, don't say ack shame and go back to eating your dinner. You don't have to pick up the phone and donate money either. Just do something that humanity gave you the ability to do. You don't need to go to Africa to find poverty... 

Go to Glasgow and buy someone a sausage roll.

To be continued...

Gugulethu Braii

I have an impulse to start every blog post with yoh! When you don't know what to say or it's too much to say or you don't know how to say it... just yoh. That sounds like it could escalate into a fantastic song but I won't go there. My room mate would definitely go there. We have recently amused ourselves with the likes of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang tune. Anything goes, particularly Chilli Biltong. If you know what I'm talking about. Anyway, I need to put my thinking cap on. Let's start with steak and beer. Yes, again.

I've been working on night shift since January. That's a long time and because of that, I am completely nocturnal. It's an experience to say the least. I really enjoy night shift, especially recently as things have pleasantly changed. Instead of spending ten hours in one house, our shifts have been split. My most common shift involves working with the babies until 0130 and then with the oldest girls until 0700. I love it. It gives me the opportunity to experience the best of both houses. The little ones are always asleep when I arrive. At 2300, I take five of them to the toilet. This is always entertaining as some of them don't wake up throughout the entire process. I've become very attached to one of the little ones recently and I wish she could come home with me.

The little angels (sometimes) that I've been working with

I reached a new low last weekend. I had steak and chips for breakfast. It was 0700, I had just finished work and I knew weet-bix just wouldn't make the cut. I fried the steak, tossed in some onions, cooked the chips and topped it all off with a black pepper sauce. It was the best breakfast ever. I then went to bed and slept until 1700. Living life in the shadows.

Yesterday I went to Mzoli's, the out door party in Gugulethu - A Cape Town Township. As always, it was so much fun! Our ride to the township had a smashed wind screen and the driver's excuse was TIA - This is Africa. Mzoli's is famous for it's braii meat and I now know why! It was sooo goood. Have I ever written a blog that doesn't involve food?

After Mzoli's, we headed to The Location Township. If you've ever seen the movie Tstotsi, that's where it's set. It's also the setting of Blue Sky Freedom by Gaby Halberstam. This Township Party was a little more...Ghetto. It was great fun. However, everyone was looking at us, really looking at us. Not in a threatening way, just in an extremely-curious-who-are-you-where-do-you-come-from-why-are-you-here kind of way.

Our Lovely Ride

Katie, Me, Ruby, Knight, Emilio

Approaching Gugulethu!

Inside Mzoli's

Katie and Emilio...

Today is my room mate's birthday. She's happy that it's her birthday, she's not happy that we know it's her birthday. Don't ask why, I don't know. I didn't believe her when she insisted that her birthday was late July. I decided to investigate deeper into the case and discovered that it was today. She is twenty now. We went to the Beer Garden with Katie and Ruby. It was nice, I had nacho's.

I would have had steak but I couldn't afford it.