The morning of revelation, as I have coined it, started with my waking up to an alarm of deceit I had set the night before. I woke up with a spritely stretch following the 4:30am wake-up call I’d set to ensure I’d have enough time to endure the daily torment of a one-hour-long public transport trip to the upper-end gym I worked at in central London.

I stood languidly in the kitchen still half-asleep, smugly sipping a strong cup of coffee while reflecting on how pleased I was with myself for getting up so early. While mentally preparing myself for the day of noveau riche angst that undeniably loomed before me, I took a moment to glimpse at the kitchen oven’s digital clock. 6:00am.

At that moment a sense of pre-disposed panic shot through me. Toppling over the kitchen stool and spilling coffee everywhere, I choked while clambering for my phone (slash alarm clock). 5:00am.

It was at this point that, somewhere between the front door, and my panicked feet slapping against the hard, wet road, alarm bells of shame went off in my head. Daylight Savings.

Amidst the ominous moaning of rain and hopeless tackling of the umbrella that flailed wildly above my head, I made the mistake of thinking to myself that it couldn’t get worse than this.

At that exact moment, as if on cue, the big red bus symbolising my last chance for redemption brazenly cruised past me, slicing a thick puddle of rainy dirt that spewed all over my pathetic and ghostlike silhouette.

I stood defeated like a drowned flamingo on the roadside in a ridiculously optimistic pink coat. Raising a helpless blank gaze to the greyish black hole that jeered right back down at me, my eyes begged the question: “Why”?

In response, the heavens opened their mocking mouth with a rumbling crack of reply that left me solidly drenched. I imagined a cosy tea party of gods in the sky all pointing and cackling hysterically at the entertaining expense that was my misery.

Crying was considered as an option, or perhaps even belting out a howling tantrum. I stared sulkily at the road and considered flinging my pathetic umbrella and bag into the puddle that reflected the cave of sky above.

Instead, I found myself nervously glancing around for some kind of camera equipment and TV show host to spring out from the shrubbery and announce that this was all just a cruel joke.
But, as black cars splashed on through the puddles in the road, coupled with blank figures avoiding eye-contact who passed me by, the voice of reason seeped in with an ironic giggle from the top of my throat: “What was I doing here?”

Melodrama aside, I felt like a goldfish in salt water. Zombie-walking to the next bus stop I took it all in.

Considering all the “Saffas” I’d seen patriotically huddled together at the nearest boerie roll stand at the Just Jinjer concerts, or outside the nearest Walkabout pub down the road, I couldn’t help but speculate as to why so many of us travelled half-way across the world to clump together and deck out in Springbok rugby gear.

It’s no wonder the SAA terminal at Heathrow airport feels more like a family reunion than anything else. Suddenly everyone is your cousin and they all want to know what you were up to in London, and if you were also living along the District Line. Of course a few Afrikaans words are thrown around because even though you may not have spoken it since your Grade Twelve “mondeling” now’s an opportunity to speak it – so why not?

Truth be told, I loved hovering with the Saffas at that airport terminal, dreaming of the chutney, Provitas, Nik-naks and biltong I’d soon be able to buy in Rands. Although when I got back home some of the novelty in that thought was lost, I realised how much I’d missed my country, my people and my sunshine.

As for London, maybe I’ll be back in a few years, but for now, here’s to 2010 being hosted in South Africa. Paint me green and bring out the boerie rolls.

Jade Adami is studying Brand Leadership at Vega.

The first is that of the “mosaic policy” – ideally, each culture is respected for the uniqueness that it brings to the nation and the observance of its traditions encouraged. This is the policy that Canada has held for many years, and of which it has been very proud. From guidebooks to radio advertisements, the benefits of the mosaic policy is heralded as a blueprint for racial, cultural and religious harmony.

The Conservative Party however, find fault with this policy and are publicly pointing out a few of its shortcomings. They would prefer more of a “melting pot” stance to be adopted, where Canadian ideals and values are adopted by immigrants and where immigrants are encouraged to mix with Canadian-born citizens and immigrants descending from other nations and cultures to their own. For example, they would like to insist that all immigrants are able to speak either French or English, and that the citizenship test have more of an emphasis on history and current values (such as tolerance) than on practical issues such as the rules of the road. They stress that people should not cut themselves off from their own culture or people from their own nation, but that there should be more prominence given to inclusion than to separatist values. This proposed plan also has its disadvantages as it could unfortunately result in traditions, languages and cultures being lost in the global pop-culture of materialism so embraced in this country.

The party has pointed out that the immigration and diversity policy should strike a balance between the aims of immigration policy – pragmatism (what would work best socially and economically for Canada) and altruism (offering Canada as a safe haven for refugees).

One of Canada’s most pressing diversity problems remains the prejudiced treatment and the resulting overcompensation management of the First Nationers. As has been seen in Australia and South Africa, the fallout of racial imbalance is very difficult to repair, as guilt-led overcompensation can lead to as many problems as the original ill-treatment.

Canada is a rich and powerful country, blessed with natural resources, sound governance and a broad mix of people. Despite this, it asks racial questions with no easy answers, and is dealing with a difficult hangover of previous inequality. While South Africa’s diversity problems might seem newer and rawer, closer to the bone, and complicated by other social problems, we need not feel that we are the only country fighting what seems an uphill battle for tolerance, acceptance and true multi-culturism.

Sarah Laurence is a South African living in Canada.

“The Soapbox aims to fight political and cultural apathy and to foster tolerance and a culture of intelligent debate” reads the page dedicated to the new website on his blog Afrodissident! That’s a good one and I will definitely try my best to contribute to its launching! There are many reasons for this.

First the number of young people of our generation who do not recognize ourselves in the views aired on mainstream media is always growing and many of us found in blogging an alternative to traditional and conventional views. Even the number of African journalists who are blogging is increasing everyday as the media for which they are working cannot publish their opinions, bringing evidence of the necessity to open the debate on critical issues elsewhere. Blogging is thus, whether you are a professional of information or a citizen X willing to express your views, not only about commenting the world news or sharing your life. It’s about creating the debate to change opinions and try to make dissident voices heard. Just have a look on Congolese blogs dealing with recurrent Kivu crisis, on Nigerian, Ugandan or Kenyan blogs dealing with homosexuality, on Senegalese, Burkinabese or Liberian blogs that feature mining issues, or on South African or Rwandan blogs trying to heal scars inherited from a recent past, and you’ll understand what I’m talking about!

Then I definitely subscribe to the idea of providing a space in which international viewpoints will meet South African opinions to fight political apathy. Seen from Senegal where I migrated a few years ago and from where everyday young boatpeople are embarking on a dangerous journey to find better livings elsewhere, I am convinced that we need this kind of space more than anything to deconstruct mentalities. Let’s take migration for instance! How could I express anything else than encouragement to migrate as I migrated myself, and as I’m reading everyday blogs of African migrants located everywhere in the world or blogs by European or American migrants in Africa? All of them are not less qualified to understand and talk about realities of the places where they are living than those who were born on these soils. Obviously some migrations reflect the inequalities of the global system. Though I still consider that I have to fight against political apathy — in the Western world or Africa — that tends to consider migration as a plague whereas it’s part of the solution!  We’re talking about aid and cooperation but you know better than me, you, living or coming from Mali, Senegal or Nigeria that remittances are far more useful than the so-called aid. In this case political apathy is that of UN agencies workers who do not say a word or international NGOs who are spending billions in cooperation projects: building wells, planting trees, organizing “cultural awareness events” to make people stay! Political apathy is that of the media reporting on “immigration problem” in the North or praising the so-called cooperation projects in the South! Efforts that are to my mind vain but also counterproductive…

Finally, I would insist on accuracy which is one of the guidelines of The Soapbox platform and one of the principles that should lead every blogger. Opinion matters, but accuracy in reporting underlie its pertinence. Especially in contexts and places which recently have undergone crisis. At least four African states went through coups in the past months (Mauritania, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau and Madagascar – not mentioning places like Kenya or South-Africa who’ve known major troubles last year). Some bloggers did a great job though, reporting while avoiding political polarization which hit the mainstream media at the same time. They’ve found in platforms voicing their documented reports and opinions an opportunity to be heard. I wish The Soapbox will be one of these platforms fed by young people from South Africa and elsewhere, which could nurture their dissidence urge.

Long live The Soapbox!

Sacha is blogger based in Senegal. Read sachaproject, his blog.