Friday, August 4, 2023

My take on “The Courage to be Unpopular: Leadership in Complex Times“: Even when we know how it ends...



 


#leadership #longread

I was recently privileged to be invited to be part of a panel discussing “The Courage to be Unpopular: Leadership in Complex Times“. As Judy Sikuza, CEO of The Mandela Rhodes Foundation and the panel chair put it in a brief, the conversation would be about “the challenges of making leadership decisions under circumstances of complexity – where there is no completely right or wrong answer and all outcomes are trade-offs.” This panel was one of the events part of the 20 Year celebration of the Mandela Rhodes Foundation. The other panelists were MRF Trustee Janet Jabiru, Director of the Leverhulme Trust, Professor Anna Vignoles, and Mozisha Founder, Dr. Kene Ikebuaku. Some of the thoughts I shared on the panel are part of the genesis of this post. Leadership being a topic I am passionate about, I have included broader reflections that were triggered by the discussions and events of that weekend of celebration. So…here goes!
Chinua Achebe’s No Longer At Ease begins with a tragedy. For those who may not know, it is the sequel to Things Fall Apart, and it is about Okonkwo’s grandson. As I paged through the masterpiece, I found myself hoping, negotiating, pleading for a different ending. I begged and wrestled with the author until the last page. I lost. The author won. The end of the story is the very beginning of the book. But then it got me thinking: would knowing how it ends help us change so we can have a different ending?
Looking around the world we live in today, my answer is no. No matter which context I look at, it seems to me that we humans are good at ignoring the obvious, and even better at remaining blind to history, and masters of switching off common sense. I mean we all. But the truth is that more often than not, we actually know how it ends!
Look at corruption. Most people involved in corruption probably shouted “corruption is bad” at some point in their life. And we know how it ends: benefit for few, tragedy for many. Serendipitously, when I mentioned ‘Corruption! We know how it ends!’ at the MRF Gala Dinner during the panel discussion, lights went off! The punctual load-shedding hand put the hall with 400 guests in darkness, panelists' microphones silenced! I wish I could claim the credit for the visual and sound effects! That was courtesy of Eskom!


Inequality? What inequality? Yet we know what it is, and we know how it ends. It might be slow, but it eventually surely comes. When the critical mass is reached, a revolt is inevitable. Then destruction all around, and everyone loses the lot or the little they had. Because nothing can stop an angry human with nothing to lose and part of a dissenting mob.
Being Rwandan, I remain fascinated by revelations about the recent history of that beautiful country, including the 1994 Genocide against Tutsis and moderate Hutus I had the misfortune of witnessing in person at age thirteen (I shared my experiences in the book Witnessing). Records have now been made public that US intelligence services knew much more and briefed political masters of what was happening and what was coming. At some point, briefings on Rwanda, as Rory Carroll of The Guardian reports, were almost on a daily basis. But somehow, whatever number they estimated to be the potential death toll was acceptable to them. Not enough to get any superpowers or the UN’s intervention. Bill Clinton’s administration would later say they didn’t fully appreciate the scale of the tragedy. But archives show otherwise. Not that it was America’s responsibility to save Rwandans. After all, it was our own leaders who got us in the mess.
I have no doubt that whoever ordered the infamous shooting of the presidential plane now considered to be ‘the matchstick’ that lit up the ‘powder keg’ knew what would follow. It had happened so often in Rwanda that political killings were followed by deadly chaos. The bigger the political figure, the more destruction there was. And so going all the way to the top and killing the president had only one outcome. Perhaps they, whomever they are, thought they could contain it. Or they were prepared to live with the consequences. Well…hell descended. Unabated. Paul Kagame himself, the current President of Rwanda, is on record for opposing an intervention force from the international community, although some might join him in arguing that it would have been too little too late, while others may think that he was simply a rebel leader smelling a certain victory he would have wanted no one to interfere with. And we know how that one ends. An estimated million died in Rwanda, and subsequently, many more - Rwandan Hutus and Tutsis - died in the then Zaïre, current Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). But the Rwandan-born conflict didn’t end there.
Rwanda crossed over to the DRC. In the late 90s, Zimbabwe decided to enter the fray. Joined by Angola, Namibia and Chad on one side, fighting against Rwanda and Uganda on the other, the players of what would later be dubbed Africa’s World War were in place. Strangely, the beginning of the collapse of the Zimbabwean economy coincides with this costly intervention, in which some argue Mugabe successfully stopped Kagame from capturing the Democratic Republic of Congo for a second time. At what cost?
Barack Obama, when asked what his biggest mistake of his presidency was, he answered: “Probably failing to plan for the day after what I think was the right thing to do in invading Libya.” Well, how about thinking that he could plan for it in the first place? But Obama is not the only global leader who didn’t plan for the ‘day after’. In Libya, he was in it with France. Speaking of France, the pattern of chaos in their former colonies only indicates that something is the same. And wrong. Now consider Bush and Blair in Iraq, citing discovery of weapons of mass destruction that were nowhere as a justification. Trump then Biden on handling Afghanistan, especially at the end, handing over the country back to the Taliban.
Of course, I am omitting here analysis on reasons and supposed reasons given for these conflicts, some more reasonable than others. In these examples however, there are many other interests involved, most of which are never in the news or even in any paper trails. But something seems strikingly common here: an attempt to impose a system of beliefs on another society. The hubris involved in thinking that a superpower can obliterate the core of a society and its leadership, and then somehow, conjure up a way to get all the minds in that same society to behave exactly as they want so it can be moulded into what they want (in this case, a democratic order) is astounding. Yet, great minds - yes, respected great minds - as well intended as they may be, seem blind to it. Somehow, there is a part of us all that thinks things will end differently from what history, and even our gut feel, says. If it is not hubris, it is much worse: intentional, for geo-political, economic and material benefit. But in the end, Life remains faithful: soon or later, the balance has to be restored, somehow. And in this process, it appears everyone loses. But we know hot it ends.
Yes, we know how it ends. Yet, we seem incapable of stopping it. Look at South Africa. It is not hard to imagine that the architects of apartheid at some point must have known how it ends. But they maintained it for decades, somehow hoping against hope that they could forever. And then it ended fairly abruptly. Then, men and women led by the ANC of Nelson Mandela took on great responsibility to lead. Yes, they steered the country away from a disastrous civil war that seemed almost inevitable. Then they took to leading toward recovery. A new dawn. Yet, as professor Njabulo S Ndebele, Chairman of the Nelson Mandela Foundation and the Mandela Rhodes Foundation put it at the launch of a book about the history of the MRF put it, the ingenious ways many had learnt to defy and gradually destroy the system - which was then apartheid - are still being used to defy and destroy the new system.
My opinion is that a crucial step was skipped in the process of starting a new South Africa. The enormous trauma consequent to years of deprivation, oppression and dehumanising of black people engineered by apartheid left serious scars within the makeup of the precious humans who fought it tooth and nail, many losing their lives in the process. Then it ended. But there was no time for the leaders and followers to update their ‘soulware’. Their mentality, attitude, core beliefs, thinking patterns. No time to grieve and heal. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was just a drop in the ocean. Or rather, a drop of disinfectant on a massive wound, most of which is invisible. The TRC should have been considered a beginning. Not an end in itself. Hallas, many of the leaders and future leaders of the country then had no time to take a breath and realise that the outside changed so radically that it needs an updated inside to run it. Without that, the story, the system, the players, the surroundings, all that may change, but if the wounded and scared-self remains the same, it will redefine the enemy to target, and the result will be the same: destruction. And we know how it ends. We see a series of preventable scandals but yet completely unable to stop them.
Hollowing out a power utility can only lead to one outcome: lights out. Mismanaging an airliner, ballooning its running costs well beyond industry norms can only lead to a certain wing-clipping. Once grounded, all stakeholders lose. Lack of timely and regular maintenance of infrastructure will only lead to roads exploding. In Johannesburg, literally so. And the cost of repair becomes orders of magnitude more than the cost of maintenance. Ignoring feedback about the state of basic education over years can only lead to a shrinking skilled workforce, mismatch between available jobs and skills supply, shrinking the tax base and contributing to growing youth unemployment. And we know where that leads. Unprocessed anger, amongst men in particular, will somehow find an ‘out’. Violent crime. Gender based violence. Violent protests. And so we wonder why there is so much violence? But somehow, we know.


So no. Knowing how it ends is not enough. But if not, then what is? At the very least, a leader who is self-aware would know that something within them inevitably has to die. It is not simple. It is a sort of rupture within. And this dying is unfortunately not happening enough in our world. It may be that it is not pretty. Because the process of dying for something new to be born within is often painful. At the very least unpleasant. And often lonely. Those around you may well not understand what is happening, because it signals a radical departure from established ways, leading to serious lags in understanding, and potentially creating conflict. It is not simple. But that is the single most complex decision to contend with. All others, when looking at it, only seem circumstantial. If healed, we are ready. But will we be open to the process of healing?
The main reason why it is not simple is because the very part of ourselves we need to kill in this healing process is often the one that is offering us something we want to hold onto. Be it feeling superior or simply ‘better than’, the illusion of power and control, wealth and its permanence, instant gratification, a sense of belonging, or simply that sweet thing, literally and figuratively, that we are enjoying so much that we just can’t stop tasting. And so the proverbial apple is bitten. It is very hard to kill something we believe we are benefiting from. And yet, without this kind of death and birth within, we know how it ends.
It is not Kagame on Rwanda, Mugabe on Zimbabwe, Obama on Libya, Bush and Blair on Iraq, Mandela, Rhodes, Gaddafi, Zuma, Verwoerd, Thatcher or Stockton Rush on Titan or Thando, John, Gatera, John or Jacques. You may be raising your eyebrows wondering why on earth I would put these names in the same ‘WhatsApp group’. Well, it is because we all are. The kind of blindness that we suffer from is not unique to these human beings, nor are the moments they managed to conquer that evil within. The impact of it differs perhaps only in how many people get to hear of it, and the legacy narrative will only depend on who is telling the story for what purpose. But there are triumphs and disasters alike. It is not them alone. It is you and I. In this way, we are all the same. And yes, even when we know how it ends, we seem to have a thing that prevents us from changing enough so we can stop it.
So yes. Before we get to a situation where we have to choose between a hundred or a million dying, what we do with our inner being determines how we will behave when that moment comes. But it is rare that we will get to that kind of choice without our involvement in the process that got us there in the first place. Involvement that perhaps could have led to a different kind of choice to make. And hopefully one where we don’t have to rely on the hidden belief that we can control other human beings.
Fortunately, we also have enough evidence that we can learn to die, so we can be reborn. And we are not short of examples. We are capable of the continuous renewal that can only happen with courage, vulnerability, determination and willingness to go through the proverbial ‘eye of the needle’. If there is a single most important and complex decision to make, it is this one: to die to self so a new self can be born. And then, if knowing how it ends is not enough, we can hold onto something else: knowing how we want it to end.


On an ‘new normal’ evening, shortly after the lockdown in South Africa had begun, I received a message from Eve Fairbanks of the Huffington Post. She wondered if I could spare some time to talk about the comparison of the coronavirus pandemic to war, which was becoming frequent around the world. This was for a short essay which was expected to be published few days later. She was only the first. Since then, I received numerous similar questions from various people, and it prompted me to reflect on this deeply.
To be clear, this is a deadly virus. COVID-19 does not discriminate, it attacks and kills from all layers of society, races and continents. And there are ways we can slow it down. And maybe, just maybe, have it eventually completely go away.
The socio-economic consequences of this pandemic will be with us for a long time. Covid-19 has become enemy number one of every human on earth, and it is being fought with vigor. Entire economies have been intentionally put on hold, because that is the most effective weapon at our disposal can work: social distancing.
This is a global tragedy. So many references to war are being drawn. And in the past few days, many people who know the significance of the month of April for Rwanda asked me the same question, some more fearful than others. And the fear is not unjustified.
For the Spanish soldiers who have to load dead bodies on military trucks and drive in convoy to a makeshift morgue because there is no more space in actual morgues, this is war. It is the case in several countries in Europe. This is probably as much real war experience as they will ever get. This is war for them. And those bodies were loved ones, children, parents, grandparents, colleagues, friends. And for those who are now forced to grieve without the basic ceremonies or gestures to say goodbye for closure, this is beyond painful.
Some hospitals around the world are simply overrun, healthcare workers are on unusually inhumane shifts without the necessary personal protective gear, racing against time to save lives with limited bed space and equipment, that is war time realities. Most of them are not used to have so much pain and death around them so suddenly, while needing to avoid being infected using limited basic tools.
Heads of states are working overtime, not only to coordinate national efforts to flatten the curve. Safe-guarding national security and maintaining social order is their number one priority. Their raison d’être. For some, this is the biggest threat to national security they will ever face while in office, so war-time modus operandi may be an imperative. While we hear President Ramaphosa who just extended the lockdown by another two weeks talking about Covid-19, it is reasonable to think that behind the scenes, he might actually be losing sleep over potential threats to national order that may be consequences of measures taken against the coronavirus. He may be pre-emptively thinking about which chess piece to move to affect the curve and avert social unrest and limit post-covid economic devastation all at the same time. And as if he didn’t have enough, add two successive downgrade blows which he must help soften, while the economy is on hold. It is a tall order, especially with tied hands. This is war for him.
For big businesses who have to impose pay cuts, defer payments to suppliers while they are expected to pay salaries for an unknown number of months without income, this is the biggest challenge they will probably ever face. For those suppliers and other small businesses, it is simply devastating.
For daily wage workers and low income earners, halting economies affects them immediately. Their worst fear of not being able to put bread on the table is real. Powerless and unsure when it will all end. This is scary, and when they hear the word war, it is real.
And at the same time, we want to be sure that we are comparing comparable things. Because when we speak of war, we hopefully don’t mean…war. Yes we are in a global battle against a deadly virus and bracing for the enormously destructive consequences it is already bringing about. But the question of whether this is war is still out there. Is it even a valid question to ask?
I am not a war expert, nor do I want to become one, ever. But I have lived in a war when I was already old enough to remember it all. My perspective therefore is not a scientific one, but rather derived from lived experiences as a member of an ordinary household in a modest city neighborhood in the middle of a war. And what I know is…
War has a sound.
War has a sight.
Was has a scent.
The sound of war is one to fear. It may start far and sporadic. And for those unfortunate, it gets closer. And louder. And deadly. Even when silent weapons are used, it is still very loud. Silence is pregnant with terror of the impending doom. Every sound heard, however small, affects the heartbeat and sweat might follow. This is not war.
The sight of war is not just empty streets. If not barricaded with stone and sand, which would actually be lucky, they are littered with humans. Lifeless humans. And for sure, looted shops look very different from closed ones. This is not war.
The scent of war is distinct. Burnt gun powder and bomb explosions smoke lingering in the air are sharp on the nose and heavy on the lung. Find yourself outside a few days or weeks later, decomposing bodies or blood may be out of sight but certainly not hidden from the sense of smell. This is not war.
Surprise is an intrinsic aspect of war tactics. You may not know that it is coming so you can stock up or have a few days to set up your home office and make arrangements with employees or employers. If you know it is coming, you may have to do with only rumours, because secrecy is a thing in a war, and information is an expensive commodity. If you are lucky, you will not be forced out of your home, leaving everything or everyone or both behind in the blink of an eye.
But home, home will be different. In this age, your internet will most likely stop working. Your cellphone coverage will last only until they figure out how to switch it off. Hopefully much later, your plugs will just be holes in the wall, because you will have stopped switching on lights anyway so as not to attract attention. Can you cook without electricity? Maybe with gas or paraffin…but from where? With what? Banks will be closed and ATMs off. If you happen to have cash, it may soon be worthless as there may be nothing to buy. Bank notes may become just paper. For real.
If you have a car, driving it to look for what you and family need will probably the most dangerous thing you could do. There is a thing called RPG. But they probably won't use it, because they need your car. Hopefully, they will let you go with your shoes on feet and watch on wrist.
You still have water? Well, the water supply is a usual strategic target, and so are all essential services. Fuel stations, pharmacies, hospitals you name them. But even if not attacked, those who would go to work there are probably hiding like you. Your suffering because of the lack of vital products and services is most likely strong leverage for at least one of the warring parties. The only essential services are their soldiers, and if you encounter them on your way to fetch much needed water for family, you better hope they believe you are on their side. Or else, you will probably not come back. Or come back alive.
And if they let you pass, you will not walk in the open streets. You will need your back to be against the nearest wall you have to walk alongside, and probably walk sideways. Because if none is shooting at you, stray bullets are still real and equally lethal. And when you reach the rumoured water source, you will not be alone, a fact that makes you and all those you will find there vulnerable. A crowd, however small, is an obvious and easy targe. If water there is, let’s skip talking about how you get it back home.
And for those who would argue that even war has evolved, that there is such a thing as a modern war that is nothing like the above, let’s hear the version of war that you know. Debate is welcome. Well…to this, let's add drones, biological weapons and other kinds of more devastating war tools, the picture of an actual war will simply get bleaker.
For now, you and I are being asked to stay home, wash our hands often, wear a mask when we go out only for essentials such as food and medical supplies or services, and simply act as if we already carry the virus and can infect the next person if we are not careful. In the name of the thousands who still have to go to work to protect us or make sure that disruptions to our lives are limited, let’s take this seriously.
For some of us, internet will actually get better, more TV channels will be open for free or for less, and those who can afford data and subscriptions will often have a sense of bonding with family while watching favorite shows or taking part in weird internet challenges.
When we say war, we are not comparing the same thing, so it is a pointless comparison for the majority of us. However, this will still be devastating. The World Food Programme is already sounding alarm bells. Small businesses will be obliterated, job losses and insufficient state financial instruments to help are already a reality. And it is OK to feel anxious.
Maybe, just maybe, having global war-like devastation without an actual war is a global blessing. One that, if fully embraced, can catapult the world into another realm of togetherness. An opportunity to put meaning to our do-good intentions. Because never before has it been so obvious that your actions affect the next person, whether you know them or not.
While on lockdown, you may already have figured out how to cut or do your own hair, or how to manage your house chores while working from home, which may be a lasting reality for many. But when this is all over, please go back to your barber or hairdresser, and call your house-help professional. Their livelihoods and those of their loved ones may depend on it. On you. [This test was first written and published on my Facebook page on April 10th 2020]

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Why is more of Joburg not with Carlo Mombelli on Wednesday evenings?

Having lived in Johannesburg for about six years now, learning to live in this so called “concrete jungle” that is often labelled as “soulless”, I deciding to find ways of making Joburg what I want it to be for me, rather than what it is labelled as. So I found my YES to Life in Johannesburg and embarked on a mission to discover what happens in town on weekends, weekday evenings and scheduled events, big and small.

On my quest to diversify my experience of Johannesburg, I came across the The Lab of Learning at the Bassline, Newtown, on Wednesdays at 8.00. I had heard of the Bassline many times and for various reasons, and I had only been there once for one event during the Joy of Jazz Festival. So reluctantly, I went to a quiet and dark looking Bassline. 

On stage was a man by the name of Carlo Mombelli, whom, as I quickly learnt, was the leader. But what caught my attention first was what he did with an ordinary 4-string guitar. 
Carlo Mombelli brings that instrument to life. He doesn't just play it. He gently beats it up. He scratches the strings with his nails. He squeezes it. He pulls, pushes and shakes it. And sometimes, he uses it with instruments made out of scrap metal to produce strange effects to makes unbelievable sounds. On stage, his relationship with an ordinary base guitar is evoking. He makes it sound alive, with ordinary and strange sounds, sending those listening to deep places of relaxation and awakening them, sometimes both at the same time. I had to remind myself several times that it was just a bass guitar in the hands of a bass guitarist.

Then I discovered that Carlo Mombelli is a legend in music and music education, mostly known around the world for what he does with a bass guitar. A lecturer of Music at Wits University and very highly educated musician, he strikes most not with his fame, skills or achievements, but his humility.

Carlo opens the show with his own original compositions, with talented musician whom he sometimes throws in the deep end on stage. Encouraging, teaching, conducting and nurturing, Carlo partners with them for a few pieces enjoyed by a rather ridiculously small audience for a performer of his caliber. But the size of the audience is evidently not his preoccupation, as he enjoys the music, giving 100% anyway! And ‘ridiculously small’…well, that is my judgement!

At the break, Carlo humorously introduces the jam session of the Lab of Learning with almost the same words every week: “All styles of music are welcome, and treated with respect in this place. This is for musicians, professional and amateurs, and anyone who wakes up in the morning and wants to be a musician. Just write in this book your name, your instrument, the style of music you want to play, we will do something with it for you” Holding up an ordinary notebook, he repeats: “Any style, any level!

He often adds that it is not an open mike karaoke session. As the break ends, he looks at the book to see who brought what for the jamming, creating a program. Then the music starts. Simple, and complex at times. Every sound is heard, processed, coloured, and complimented to fit somewhere in waves. Carlo is the cook, as he once said of himself, and all the available ingredients in the room are used. And mix them all is what he does!

Very few performing contexts are devoid of the ego. In this place, nobody is crushed! Everyone willing finds their space!

As an amateur drummer, I once offered a piece of Rwandan traditional music. Just before the preceding piece ended, Carlo came to me and whispers in my ear to bring in my beat to merge with the piece 'so that they cross somewhere'. How? I had no idea. So I went, picked up the sticks, listened a little bit, and just started at his signal. Before I knew it, an electric guitarist, two percussionists, a pianist, a violinist, two vocalists and Carlo Mombelli himself on the bass and conducting, bringing them in one by one. Then he brought in everyone else in the audience, clapping with their hands. The Rwandan tradition beat became a great piece of jazz, with the vocalists spontaneously interpreting a famous jazz song, which I felt to my core. All I had to do was offer the traditional Rwandan beat on drums, and seamlessly, both pieces with different styles merged to become one long piece of relaxing music.

Playing with anyone who is willing, Dr. (yes, Dr!) Carlo Mombelli is so down to earth, and so is his music. One can easily forget that it is the legend among bass guitarists who has a topnotch band in South Africa and an orchestra in Europe, and has composed for and performed with numerous household names! The vibe in the venue is deeply felt, and strangely, one doesn't even need to hear or see to have it penetrate through the skin. You just need to be there, for only ten rand at the door. 

It is not only the quality of music, but also the reality of the willingness to offer and to receive that draws one into the experience of doing with whatever is available and creating beauty with it all. A one man/woman act with a strange or ordinary instrument and an open heart soon becomes a two, three, six, nine or twelve piece band. Those who are truly awake can observe as a piece of music evolve and learn one or two lessons in quality leadership, follower-ship, facilitation, gracious ‘going with the flow’, intuitive course-correction and spontaneous endings and beginnings from all involved in the creation.

And before you know it, the evening is gone!

I have been there several times, and each time, there is something special that seems to be making it better and better. Perhaps it has to do with my increased receptivity as encourage there, opening up to more and more of what is on offer from anybody, any style, at any level.

I once randomly asked why there are not many more people of Johannesburg at the Bassline on Wednesday evenings, and one of the singers retorted – “People are busy!” Well, I put it to you, busy people of Joburg, I can’t think of a better way to unwind, chill and relax to be ready for the following day in the middle of a busy week than Carlo’s improvisations with all that makes a sound in the room!

Thank you Dr. Carlo Mombelli and those who contribute to the Learning Lab at the Bassline for making Joburg soulful!

Looking forward to next Wednesday!


For more on Carlo: http://www.music.org.za/artist.asp?id=202
The Bassline in Newtown: http://goo.gl/XxWDV1
Regular opening band: Carlo Mombelli (bass), Lungile Kunene (drums), Gabriel montgomery (piano)

Monday, April 7, 2014

Remembering Horror and Learning to Live. 20 years on.

In April of 1994, Rwanda was engulfed in a war and genocide that took an estimated million lives. It was four months before my 14th birthday. On this day 20 years ago, someone had decided it was our time to die. And so they came for us.

Below is an excerpt from the book I am writing.

===
===
We hear strong steps in the corridor. I think it is the policeman coming back home. No, it is not him. It is an army officer. He quietly sneaked in by the back door and made his way to the living room where we are sitting. He is followed by another one of his colleagues. We all look at both officers with shock. We have never seen them before. 

-“Where is Bellancilla?”  The army officer who came first asks with a very harsh, loud and scary tone. “Where is she?”

My mother hears them asking. As we all keep quiet, she opens the bedroom door to come out, unaware of who is asking for her. As she steps into the living room, she freezes in shock, noticing that we are all siting quietly, the only people standing being two unknown and armed soldiers.

-Bring your identity card now!

My mother takes her handbag placed on the dinner table, brings out her identity card and gives it to the officer. He checks it, tilting her hand and head to get the light from the paraffin lamp shine on the inside pages of the folded card.

-Yes! You are the one we are looking for. You too are a cockroach from Gatonde! Come with me right now! Step forward in front and let’s go.

The soldier harshly orders, showing my mother the passage way to the back door. My mother, visibly disturbed and confused, refuses to move.

-Step forward why? Go where?

The officer abruptly steps towards her and slaps her in the face with his right hand, while his colleague watches on, keeping an eye on us. I jump out of my seat. My stomach knots, making me feel sick, and my jaws get tense. I have never seen anyone raising a finger to my mother, let alone slapping her in the face. The officer hits her in the face for a second time. I reach out to my mother, grab her arm and pull her towards the passage way as the officer continued to order her to move. I pull her hand, worried she will be hit again.

-Let’s go Ma’. Let’s go. 
===
===

At home, that evening of the 7th of April 1994 ended with two family friends dead, one of whom shot while bravely saving my mother's life; my mother's bleeding face wounded by a bullet aimed to kill her; a grenade explosion inside our house; a brutal rape in front of my then 11 year old brother; and a neighbor bruising my ribs and nearly breaking my arm while dragging me on the ground into his home to save my life. A night I can talk about for hours.

In the three months that followed, I experienced and witnessed the most horrific scenes that I wish none on earth would have endure, or even see. Certainly not a 13 year old.

20 years ago it was.

Today, looking back, I am so grateful for the opportunities I have been given to share about the pain, grieve, and lament. This was an essential part of my ongoing process of healing, through which I am gradually discovering the gifts that were delivered to me, my family and humanity even through the darkest moments we have known. And a process that certainly brought me much closer to those I thought I had lost.

Though they are gone and no longer with us as I would wish, they are with me and they have always been. When I open my heart to Life as it has been and as it is now, within me, there are eyes and ears that open and enable me to see and hear them, and a touch of heart becomes my reality.

As to those who have done the deeds I dread and wish would never have happened, now I can say...'I see you'. Well, I must admit that the dark side of humanity that lead them to do heinous and horrific actions deeply troubles and still scares me. However, I am embracing the fact that I too, in my humanity, have that side. And now I know that it is when I keep my heart closed to life as it is, and them as they are, irrespective of what they have done, that I relinquish my ability to be conscious and 'in charge' of the darkness within, inevitably leading me down to a path of separation, hatred, fear and drive for revenge. I turn into the very thing that I loathe.

I am fortunate to know that there is another way. A way I am learning live. A way that transcends the 'happened' and the 'happening'. A way that, after tears, screaming and kicking, eventually helps me to bring it all before me, and to invite them all here and now, and then take the opportunity to say YES.

YES I am alive!
YES I am who I am!
YES it is as it is!
To those I open my heart to: YES, you are who you are, and I let go of my ill will towards you.
To those I thought I had lost: YES, you are who you are, and I feel your presence. Here and now!

And here and now, in it all as it is, O' Life knows how, we are ONE!

YES, That is what I want live, as what I am longing for is the very essence of Life.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Who is Pie-Pacifique Kabalira-Uwase?


Pie-Pacifique Kabalira-Uwase is the Head of the Business School of the Foundation for Professional Development, a private institution of higher learning based in Pretoria. He is also an Associate Consultant with IDG South Africa, and a Consulting Partner with Whitten and Roy Partnership, both companies with global reach, where he focuses on people-related business solutions. For much of the year, Pie-Pacifique travels the lengths and breadth of the planet inspiring, coaching and training leaders and followers to create
the best results they desire.

Pie-Pacifique’s journey includes growing up in Rwanda in tumultuous times that claimed members of his family. His father, a political prisoner in the eighties, died in 1989 when Pie-Pacifique was only 8 years old. Due to his father’s political history, Pie-Pacifique’s family were among those who were supposed to be killed in the 1994 Genocide, narrowly surviving several attempts. Post 1994, Pie-Pacifique became his family’s breadwinner at 14, before finding his way back to school, which, against all odds, he completed with distinction. In 2001, he embarked on a challenging and uncertain journey which would lead him to South Africa, beginning his life as a refugee car guard in Durban where, among other things, he inspired refugee women to organize themselves into what eventually
became the Union of Refugee Women which he subsequently served a Chief Strategy
Advisor at a tender age of 21. In 2002, against all odds, he enrolled at the then University
of Natal, where he was awarded the MR Scholarship upon completion of his degree in
Physics, before starting his professional career with Barclays Africa as a Business and
Systems Analyst in 2008.

In 2011, he was appointed Account Executive at Avocado Vision, a company that specializes in large scale community and workplace training programs, including Enterprise Development, where he initiated and managed projects that touched thousands of people in marginalized communities in South Africa, and empowered hundreds of community based micro-enterprises. Since 2013, through his work with IDG and WRP, he delivered Business Leadership Development programs and worked on Business Development projects in numerous countries in all four corners of Africa, as well as in
South East Asia.

Besides his Leadership and Business Development activities, Pie-Pacifique is currently a
Council Member of the Jesuit Refugee Service-Southern Africa, as well as an international
Key-Note and Motivational Speaker.