Ashley Green-Thompson
THERE are two important days in your life – the day you are born, and the day you discover why. Apparently this is Mark Twain’s quote. I heard it from the priest at mass on Sunday. It formed the basis of his sermon, and I confess I found it a most interesting one. It got me thinking about what my purpose in life is. I’m not a young fellow anymore, so it might be a little late in the day to be having these existential reflections. But better late than never, and I still have a good few years in me.
A wonderful opportunity to explore such questions is presented to me by this weekly column. I’ve never had one before, and the Editor so far has allowed me free reign to write whatever is in my head, or heart. Pretty soon I’ll start writing about politics or religion or both, and maybe then he’ll get a little antsy. For now, I write what I like.
As a young student at Wits in the eighties, my purpose seemed quite clear. I devoted my free time (and a lot of study time) to organising students to oppose the apartheid system. The changes in 1994 and after were massive, not just for the country but very personally for me. My purpose was affirmed – I could see in plain sight the fruits of my labour. Petty apartheid was banished, we could vote, and the new democratic government had plans to address the legacy of deprivation and inequality that this inhumane system of social engineering had created in South Africa.
I had made my contribution, and I could rest knowing that I had fulfilled my purpose in life. Alas, it didn’t take long for the euphoria to wear off. The promise of 1994 and a new co-existence among diverse people seems a pipe dream. The vision of a society based on justice, fairness, and dare I say: love for our fellow humans, is beaten and bruised. Just listen to the language that accompanies government’s ‘vala umgodi’ campaign to end illegal mining. When a whole cabinet minister can use words like ‘smoke them out’ to refer to human beings, you know we’re in trouble. When the frustration of poor communities is inflamed by xenophobic statements against migrants (legally here or not), it’s no surprise that violence erupts in townships. Someone I know well was hit with a brick
in the township of Alexandra during one of these outbreaks – he was just in the wrong place. And what of the demeaning language we use when talking about lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and intersexed people? What violence does this foment when others are regarded as less than fully human?
I have come to the conclusion that I’m not done. My purpose in life has not yet been realised. The motivation that drove me to join organisations and march against the police in 1987 still has relevance today. I have to remember that purpose, and carry on contributing to the struggle for human dignity for all people, not just for those who are white or rich or straight or male. Or South African.
And I guess that is my challenge to those of you who read this. In reflecting on what your purpose is in life, think about centering it around making the world a little bit better. Let’s not let the racist, xenophobic, or misogynistic conversations we might encounter go unchallenged. And where we can, let's join up with others who are also worried about the state of our world and get active in changing it.