Sunday, March 9, 2008

Postscript: a few words from the organisers

Epilogue: final reflections

I would like to thank...

We had a ceremony to say thank you to us as participants and photo ops.

All felt quite false. We just spent 24 hours in the slums and we're getting a pat on the back...feels odd.

Still it was awesome as I looked round and saw the faces of my fellow slum-ites. I think we were all pleased that it was over... but also there was an amazing sense of community as i looked at these people and felt a warm affection to them as companions through this emotional, physical and spiritual journey that we have taken in entering the lives of others.

Oh and the coffee we had afterwards never tasted so good. All good things...

... more simulations

Sally Begbie, looking immaculate in her clothing, introduced us to some thoughts on how we could be using newer business models to help. Most of us were struggling by this stage. We were resting under the tree's shelter from the sun. It was hot. Sleep deprivation and the fantasising about a cup of coffee were taking over any form of rationality.

We had two more simulations: one which involved us look at tackling the problem of slum dwelling and handling a business that is trying to help and the second a walkthrough of someone journey upto a point where they are in an AIDs clinic to see whether they have the virus.

Oh yeah and lunch was a donation of leftovers from a corporate function. It was given to us in rubbish bags covered in muck.

And then it ended.

A quick view of the slums

Level playing field?

I love football.

The FA & World cup, Maradona's "Hand of God", 1966, Liverpool's amazing comeback at the Champions League final in 2005, Gazza's tears, the dreaded penalty shoot outs. It's a fine game and holds a lot of memories for me.

We have just played a game that has left me fuming. A massive team against a few. My small team, crippled by the rules, a very dodgy referee & officials and by circumstance. Constant penalisations and advantages given against us.

I'm not fuming because of the simulation, but rather I love football and I like to win. As did all of us playing. But this was staged. It was staged that one team would lose and everybody would be ok with it.

I guess that's the point: the rules work against the underdogs.

We did try. Our strategy changed from trying to score to not conceding and trying a "hit & hope" gameplan.

The worst was: David whispered in my ear that at one point I would have to turn against my team when he makes an announcement.

He made the announcement. My name is Judas. The beautiful game was not the winner in this case.

This simulation was there to reflect the macro economics of the developed vs the developing world with regards to trade... and I'm still fuming.

Paper bags, dodgy shop keepers and tuition fees

One of our family members, perhaps a little too loudly came back and said: I'm OK with prostituting myself if it means more money.

Most of the camp heard. A few heads turned. She realised what she said was perhaps a little too loud. We laughed.

Turned out she went to sell some items, but in ended up selling a little more.

Then someone else in our family comforts her by saying "its ok... its ok. i tried to sell benjy earlier on".

What has this family come to i found myself pondering.

We have been trying to make paper bags and sell them to some rather unpleasant shop keepers: one is extremely harsh, the other quite sleazy, to try and earn a living for our family.

It is turning into, so I'm learning, a rather unpleasant insight into what we would do for a few extra rupees. Not only do i feel a touch betrayed, but also that things are starting to spiral a little out of control. All to bring in some money and for what: to send one of our family members to school.

We did it. Bob managed to get placed in school. The cost was, arguably, quite high.

Breakfast

Usually it would be either a couple of slices of toast with a lovely hot cup of tea. Or perhaps a bowl of cereal and a fine cup of tea. Sometimes an egg on toast along side a fine cuppa tea.

David, however, pulled out this nut powder and made our breakfast before us on the fire. Apparently a cuisine from Burundi.

It was stodgy, very heavy and it had its merits. This was perhaps my first level of real endurance: not having a nice breakfast.

That recurring thought came back: bring on the end of this event and allow me to have a nice meal.

David, however, informs us that a common drink in some slums is Chai. We proceeded to get given some. Hope manifests itself in strange ways :)

Morning reflections

brrrrrrrrrr

Last night we had a great chat round the fire about refugees, development and NGOs. It was great. Reminded me of my campfire memories. Some pretty smart people and minds in our village, yet also a lot of compassion and yearning to make sense of some of these realties.

We were all given blankets and hygiene kits. So as with camping: brush your teeth and off to sleep.

Sleep, however, in hind sight, felt like it was something to be earned. I didn't sleep well. I was cold, uncomfortable, in a slum with strangers when I kind of wanted some privacy.

I woke up feeling very tired. But i looked out the window and it would appear that everyone was looking like they had the same experience. I was feeling pretty miserable, but as the saying goes I stepped out to enjoy some company whilst warming my toes against the caressing flames of the fire.

Day end: reflection

Trying to make our slum house

I never have been good at making things. I usually enjoyed helping my Dad out and let him do the thinking and I'd be happy to pass him the screw driver or spirit level.

This time people were looking to me to take lead. Dang.

First things first you need your materials. We were sent up the hill.

SOLDIERS. More soldiers were up there. More shouting and more abuse. One person was abducted the rest sent back to the fire. Looks like we're sleeping rough tonight.

At the fire our host tells us that it is now safe to go back. I wasn't too sure and we all hesitated to go back.

No soldiers. Phew.

Right back to building our Slum and avoid being ambushed.

Our first task: gather the materials... take 2.

Life after the refugee camp

We had a visit from a dignitary. Offers of smuggling our family out. Constant abuse and soldiers extorting money from us... and this is a dedicated a place of refuge.

However, we were taken out. My new family are becoming very important to me and their safety paramount.

We were taken to a place where we got a fire going. The warmth was very welcome. The sun had gone down long ago and it was starting to get cold.

We were told that we have entered the slums and given some slum food. Surprisingly it was very tasty. One chap shared his meal with me and we were all starting get comfy.

Not for too long though.

Our next task: make your house.

Scared

Not only have I had my name changed, but also my image: we have all been given new clothes and I have a bandage on my head. The ladies are not allowed to speak to men unless spoken to and have to cover their heads at all times.

The change starts.

After a briefing from David Begbie, our host, we were taken to a building. Upon approaching the casual stride was hurried as the urgency started. A lady was telling us to move fast as our time is short.

We are ushered into a room. A very dark room. The door opens and torch light comes through. Our jolly host is not so jolly. He's crying. Seeing a grown man cry sends shivers down me. We wait for his words expecting the simulation to kick in and tell us what to do next. He keeps crying. I'm guessing if everyone is feeling like me they're feeling awkward. The crying still goes on.

He tells us that our village is lost and we have to flee. We are shown a video and then BANG. Soldiers burst in. Darkness. Torch light and lots, lots of shouting. We're pushed on the ground and then taken across a minefield to a refugee camp.

After finding my family (there are 5 of us: one other man and three ladies) we have to make it through the camp: getting food, medical attention and education.

Sounds straight forward, but was confusing and anarchic. I had lost my wedding ring, my watch and had water thrown upon me.

I'm no longer feeling quite so comfortable but rather quite paranoid.

My name is Benjy Moyo. I am a refugee

... more preparation

Prepartaion

My name is Benjy Solanky, today I will leave behind my wife, two children, bed, house, and other creature comforts to join 20 others to spend 24 hours in the slums as part of Slum Survivor, 2008 in Hong Kong.

Slum Survivor is a Crossroads International Foundation fundraiser which invites leaders in the Hong Kong community and beyond to spend 24 hours the way billions spend a lifetime.

We will eat, sleep and work in a simulated slum environment in order to raise awareness and funds to benefit those in need.

Right now I am going to enjoy my coffee & croissant before it begins.