We sure are a lucky bunch of nomads, aren’t we?
I’m referring here to young professionals such as myself, who are from small towns and villages in South Africa’s underdeveloped provinces, and have parents or family members who sacrificed their dreams for us to get a shot at cracking it in the big city.
So here we are, making our presence felt and carrying our family names on our shoulders. The warning not to drag it though the mud reverberating through our conscious during every questionable decision. The debate continues around whether people from small towns in “neglected” provinces work harder that those who were born in say, Durban Cape Town or Johannesburg. The logic from those who agree with statement is that they’re far away from home and have more to lose, as well as a greater dependancy on them to provide a better life for the family, and therefore work harder. Those who don’t agree, who I’ve debated with, argue that it doesn’t matter where you were born because your level of success depends on your level of education, passion and clarity of purpose. I haven’t decided which side I agree with quite yet.
But back to why we’re a lucky bunch of nomads. This weekend I had an interesting discussion with homeboy of mine from the Eastern Cape, about the definition of success. Since my friend is quite accomplished, he quickly pointed out the limitations to living a comfortable life without access to money, power or at least someone who can make things happen. I took the opposing view, citing an example of a herd boy who grows to inherit his fathers lands and cattle, as well as the respect of his community’s elders through years of diligent service.
A key observation is that the herd boy has a chance of growing-up content and successful despite any access to DSTV, the internet or even twitter. Surely that man is successful and his life achievements cannot be regarded as inferior in comparison to a fortune 500 company CEO, simply because he grew up in a different setting.
To a degree, the perception and definition of success in is shaped by what our former president Thabo Mbeki called a two teared economy, which has created two societies. The metropolitan progressive society that’s more tolerant to the new globally accepted norms that exist in urbanised cities, and the society rooted in ancient tradition and beliefs, made up of (sometimes stubborn) people who still rely heavily on their land and the government to survive.
So, we travel to Johannesburg in busses, 2nd hand cars or taxis, with everything we can pack. Then we work our assess off and eventually attain wealth, status and a life far greater than that of our entire village or town. A life that’s the envy of all our friends when we travel home during the Christmas break as small town celebrities.
For some of us, as we approach a decade in the big city, our souls begin to yearn for the simple life back home, the beautiful rolling hills, fresh air and genuine friendships based on the same principals of life we were taught at a very young age. My last trip home forced me to revise my definition of success. Seeing how some of the poorest people I know find happiness within extreme poverty has reminded me that, what’s considered the epitome of success in the big city, could be completely insignificant in rural EC, KZN, FS, MP etc. I remember thinking how lucky I was to have an opportunity to come to that realisation by spending time in the two extremes.
A perfect example of how subjective the value of the two realities can be, is our late former president Nelson Mandela. Madiba grew up as a herd boy who earned the world’s respect and is now held in the highest esteem, yet in his old age he chose to return to a small village to be surrounded by some of the poorest people he knew.
It may sound obvious, but I think we’re lucky because once the small town clique gets tired of the paper-chase in big cities, we have the option of returning to small towns, villages and informal settlements – (with desperately needed skills and experience) – where there is an equal chance that we may achieve success. Albeit in a different form.
So yes, I think we’re all lucky. And I’d like to think knowing that a return to humble beginnings is always a possibility, reinforces a sense of humility.
GRASSROOTS 