Deep in the night in the privacy of my sheets I confessed—I really don’t know anything. This would become the theme for my life in 2017. There was a growing comfort inside of me in the understanding that I am not in charge of anything. Just weeks into acknowledging the state of my unconsciousness I would be woken up rather abruptly by a couple of suits at my work activating their positional power to rescind the offer they made to pay for my Masters of Business Administration qualification—at one of the most prestigious Business Schools in South Africa. It was stated in their subsidized Education policy that they will support the development of their employees to give rise to a competent human capital that can tactically and strategically bring real time transformation to the lives of ordinary South Africans. What the policy forgot to relay was that there was an invisible quota to the amount that can be used to subsidize transformation; and only sub-standard institutions will get preference. There in the boardroom I put on my business brain and was ready to debate and poke holes into their bureaucratic ways. Critically engaging made-up minds allows for greater opportunity of forced consciousness in one’s own biases. I refer to this type of consciousness as the light that glows when truth meets ignorance.

I did not get to the glow immediately, first there was a storm; a raging tear storm that filled my aching reality. The obvious solution was to drop out of school. How was I going to cover tuition, books and the global study tour without my development agenda partner? This was an ultimate betrayal; for a woman that has survived life’s most hurtful surprises before now; this pain was fresh… like the road less travelled. I sensed a new way of thinking creeping into my alertness, like the dimness of my light forcing its way into life—I felt a warm glow of light emerging into my consciousness. This new light was forcefully announced to me through the pain that accompanied the possibility of dropping out. I began to look beyond the teary storm and the choking pain for a solution. Then I remembered! I don’t know anything. Continue reading Emerging Consciousness →

“And I began to see
That I was just as strange to them
As they were strange to me!”
-Dr. Seuss’ “What Was I Scared Of?”

I love children’s literature. Given that I have four young kids I get the chance to read a lot of it. I enjoy it (and feel it’s a sign of it being good literature) when the books I’m reading to my kids make me think and feel and connect with thoughts I have about people and the world. Living away from my country of origin in these rather dramatic first weeks of 2017, which have been full of unrest and confusion in some ways the world over, I have thought a lot about similarities and differences.
Continue reading Dealing With Differences With Dr. Seuss →

Last week my women’s choir recommenced after its usual nine-month hiatus. Our director Emily is young, energetic, and somewhat silly (she usually directs children’s choirs). In spite of her light-hearted humor, she demands our best—not only as individuals, but as a cohesive group. Her choral warm-ups train our ears as well as our voices. With up to six voice parts, each woman’s voice has a unique range and quality, yet our aim is to train them so that each contributes to a harmonious sound—without overpowering the rest. What allows us to create the most pleasing, unified sound? Our director. We all look to her for tempo, volume, and expression. When each of us learns the music, listens to our neighbors, and follows Emily’s direction, we can enjoy the wonderful sensation of contributing to a beautiful whole greater than ourselves.
Continue reading Harmony of the Unique →

We live in an age of openness. News, gossip, opinions, and images spread like wildfire over the internet. We put a lot of energy into curating Facebook walls and Instagram feeds to show our followers a desirable image. But watch out. One tweet can ruin your life, warns the New York Times. Years ago, a relative of mine who works in politics said something to me that stayed with me: “Operate as if everything you say, write, or type is tattooed on your forehead.”

As wives, friends, or mothers, we occupy powerful positions. I see my loved ones at their lowest, grumpiest, holey-sweat-pant moments. The annoying habit my husband has? Noted. The toddler tantrum over the wrong cup? I’m there. The parenting mistake my friend made? Saw it. If one tweet can ruin my life, I should be just as careful with others’ reputations.
Continue reading Reputation →