You can only choose one thing. You have 30 seconds.
Now you have another two minutes. What’s the next thing you will choose? What’s the one thing you will choose? And then the next if you’re going to have to run, if you’re going to have to leave where you are and leave everything else behind.
You have no idea where you’re going. You have no idea where, how long you’ll be gone and you have no idea if you’re coming back, pick only four and now go.
That’s what it means to be a refugee. Only a fraction of it, but this is what it means to be a refugee. Soon this is all you will have. Four things. The first, the second, the third, and the fourth most important things that came to your mind.
You might never come back. You might never see the rest of your things again.
Ultimately, you need to choose and ultimately you have no idea where these choices will take you.
It may not be four. It may be more….it may be none. You never know.
What you do know is that you will be judged, you will be judged by what you are wearing. You will be judged by how you look. You will be judged by what you are carrying. You will judge be judged for the rest of your life, your qualifications, no longer matter. Your money no longer matters. Your status no longer matters. Your home no longer matters.
All you have is you and four things. What will you choose?
The things are one thing. What about the people?
Who will you leave with? Family? Friends? Stranger?
Who will you meet? Who will protect you while someone is trying to hurt you?
As the fates of time and place would have it, this #WorldRefugeeDay was spent in a refugee camp in Kenya – Kakuma – home to over 185,000 refugees from South Sudan, Ethiopia, Uganda, the DRC and other neighbouring nations. A field trip meant to be just a day turned into an unexpected overnight stay, with nothing but day-packs in hand. No toothbrushes, no soap, no water, no mosquito repellent despite the known severe outbreak of malaria, no mobile phone chargers, no change of clothes. Nothing. Just our IDs, our faith, and our evolving plan to travel in, stay, see, sleep, and somehow manage to drive out at dawn to a distant airport for return to Nairobi. We knew we were safe. We knew we were set to leave once in. Somehow we would figure out the essentials in between.
What are the essentials? What emerges as must-haves. What quickly and acutely comes to mind when there is no time to really comprehend the what next? And what if it all goes horribly wrong?
The experience was a tiny, tiny glimpse into how one’s mind has to work when working out how to move forward with so little of what is normally needed for smooth, safe, predictable and peaceful daily life. Blessed to be in a position of knowing when we would be back to our clean, secure creature comforts, adjusting to the baseline of needs for the brief time ahead was hardly traumatic. The day after tomorrow would be a day back to the familiarity of the real world – familiar faces, familiar places, a familiar fate.
But for tens of millions, tomorrow is an extension of the sudden uncertainty of today.
How does this happen? How is it that reality can change in a moment? From safety to tragedy. From comfort to fear. From comforted to completely alone.
There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that we did to influence the life into which we are born. And yet, for billions of people, lives seemingly a dream look down on the millions, literally millions, condemned to a life that is nothing short of a nightmare.
Whether caused by acts of God, acts of Mother Nature, or acts of angry men, today and every day millions run, having to choose, quickly, what they will take.
What can we give them? What do they need? it is not simply about money – throwing a few coins into a donation box while quickly passing by. The first gift of giving is compassion – looking a child, an adult, another, in the eyes with a genuine feeling of “I see you.”
And then reaching out a hand with a heart whispering the words “….and I will help you.”
World Refugee Day should never be just one day. Each and every day, everywhere, our hearts must remain open to those needing care, compassion, comfort. Because every day they are living lives of heroic courage and determination, despite the shunning looks and judgemental glares.
And because easily, so so easily, it could have been us.
What is it that causes a country, a world, to stop and watch as a fairytale comes to life?
What is it that still has the world talking, debating, awing, about the Royal Wedding of May 18th 2018, so many days after the day when HRH Prince Harry took as his bride an American divorcee – an act for which his great granduncle, King Edward VIII, was forced to abdicate the throne?
What allows us the pause our thought for a day and open our hearts?
What is it?
As the wash of the colour purple fades across the world, once again we are reminded that we, as a global community, sharing such often indescribable challenges around our core humanity, need hope and love and dreams to remain human.
The world will continue to watch, to evaluate, to analyse, to care…. because somehow, through it all, it keeps the world in touch with something positive, something hopeful, something bigger and better than the battles of global co-existence.
Because somehow it drip-feeds our need to dream. To love. To wish for better…for others. And to celebrate the simple joys of the heart.
Viewing parties took place across the world. global media watching closely in the lead-up to the big day for any details that may act as a keyhole into the big day inside the grandness of Windsor Castle. From carpeting to canapes, calligraphy to choir selections, puffs of detail filled the warm, sweet, slightly purple air around all things and everything Harry & Meghan.
It is impossible not to think of the royal wedding acting as a BandAid, helping some of the hurt that so many are feeling across the world as, through fiery people, politics, policies and pointed attacks on principles
As the day neared, with all of its family drama sadly unfolding in front of the world’s press (especially as opportunists crossed lines of decency to find a way into the story, either as the message or the messenger), the underlying values of the occasion shifted, forced to make way for the value of the occasion. Pricetags were confidently and creatively put on the big day. The cost of the ceremony. The cost of the flowers. The cost of security. And of course, the cost the much anticipated dress. All of these add up to amount that is being put into the ‘wedding of the year’.
And then there are the price tags of the purple glow surrounding the grand event: the money to be spend on memorabilia, by tourists travelling from near and far to be in Windsor and the UK per se, on the day, the money to be spent filling glass after glass of Prosecco from the first moments of arrival of the glittering guests of both Hollywood and British royalty. GBP 80 million, GBP 500 million, GBP 1.2 billion. The speculation around the economic impact was ever-inflating. A surge in spending was, however, absolutely clear. Likewise the surge in global interest, with viewership of the nuptials in the US morning reaching unprecedented levels, with over 29 million people watching in the early morning hours, no doubt in their PJs with bubbles in hand.
Was the buzz of royal wedding business as high as the royal wedding of Prince Harry’s brother, the heir to the throne? No, and it was never expected to be. History was being made, in a different way, at a different time, with different expressions of excitement and excess. Eight years back, on the April 29th, 2011 occasion of the marriage of HRH Prince William to his college sweetheart, now Princess Catherine, the official figures revealed that, according to PwC, “William and Kate’s wedding generated roughly £107 million ($145 million) in extra spending: Good for retailers, (and just) less than 4% of the amount spent in the UK on Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year.” This time around, the ‘I Do’s didn’t in terms of UK spend stimulation. But that does not reduce its worth at penny.
While in the moment the recent royal wedding may show lesser spend levels and no direct benefit to the UK’s tourism, retail or related economies, still, the value of the national interest cannot and should not be underestimated.
The royal wedding offered the UK, and the world, a pause to the problems of the day. It offered a time when people across the world, hearts across the world, were given permission to just sit back and breathe some fresh air. Conversations stretched for days around the simple things, tiny details of the day that had the world commenting, critiquing, complaining, and celebrating, the sometimes silly, superficial, sentimental.
That was the magic. It was the gift of the pause, The gift of the fresh air. The gift of the time knowingly spent being nothing but touched by the beauty of a moment – someone else’s moment. By the beauty of a commitment: stand by me.
It was just over 15 years ago when a little girl with a quiet dream set out to start her own little consulting business. It was not to be about size of business – buying a small island was never the goal. It was about working purposefully, living a labour of love, working only with clients adored. Having a vocation, not a profession.
From day one of deciding to leave a global consulting firm and go solo, one simple model was followed: actually one role model. Her name was Pam Golding.
Pam was easy to identify – she had in fact come into the life of this young dreamer through a pre-solo project that forever changed the course of her young career. At first Pam was a Stakeholder, selected by the former consulting firm from a short-list of business elites for her high profile, highly regarded, and hugely respected leadership within South Africa and Africa’s C-Suite community, a position of immense power achieved through her success at the helm of South Africa’s largest, most revered, most successful and most trusted property company – Pam Golding Properties (PGP). She was to be one-on-one interviewed at her company’s magnificent head offices, Monterey – a breathtaking old schoolhouse estate where peacocks roamed the rose gardens, antiques and artworks lined boardroom walls, wood and crystal combined to turn high ceilings, winding staircases and flowing banisters into settings for fairytales, silver service signalled teatime, and serious business unfolding all around released a respectful hush through the hallways.
For many, the thought of meeting Pam was a cocktail of excitement, intimidation, fantasy and fear. For this little girl, however, it was pure awe. Never will she – I – forget slowly driving up the driveway that first time, gravel slowly crunching under the tires as my car crawled in the direction indicated by the formally uniformed yet gently friendly security guards, suddenly stopping midway to simply stare at the way the sunlight was striking water falling like raindrops from a classic fountain in the centre of the parking grounds. Time slowed, softened. Detail magnified.
Arrival at Monterey was a process, an occasion, a series of precious steps. And then the moment of meeting occurred. Slow, almost thoughtful footsteps on polished, thick wooden floors announced the imminent arrival of greatness. Yet, despite her enormous reputation and achievement, her size was petite, her voice lyrical, her smile radiant, her handshake delicate, her stories enchanting…her hugs sincere.
From the first moment meeting the grand dame, I knew in my heart that this icon would forever be my embodiment of success. But not for the reasons one may think. Not at all.
It was not because of what Pam did – her being the founder and chairperson of a now globally reaching powerhouse in the housing market. Rather, it was about how she did it – always:
with grace,
with acumen,
with courage,
with poise,
with exceptional preparedness,
always,
being grateful,
being personal,
being presentable,
and always, always, being a lady.
In the presence of Pam one sat taller, spoke softer, thought more carefully, moved more gently, breathed more deeply, looked more closely, felt more grateful.
From that day on, and especially when I decided to go solo as a consultant, Pam Golding became my mind and heart’s true north. She became my client. She became my friend. On many occasions over the years, as our personal and professional lives danced, she became my confidante. My business took its name – Cachet – from an article title called out on the cover of an edition of PGP’s ‘Icon’ magazine. Its sound, its meaning and its source could not have been more perfect. Year after year my little business grew, I grew older, Pam grew increasingly close in thought, heart, and frequency of engagement. Every moment, every memory with Pam, left my heart smiling, deeply, quietly, so so very gratefully. Always, always, Pam was held dear as my embodiment of success. On the 10th anniversary of my business, it was she to whom I raised a class of Champagne, tearily saying ‘thank you‘ to her for showing me how to shape the business I had hoped for, pausing to celebrate her, her way – enjoying chilled Champagne at lunch time.
To this day when asked what has been the secret of success of my little business – a business now well into the 15th year, blessed with longevity and reach long past those first fragile dreams, spontaneously I always believe it to be this: etiquette.
That was Pam. That will always be the gift of Pam.
Pam’s example – her excellence, her gravitas, her grace, her sunshine, her style, will always be my heart’s true north. White roses will always be her reflection. Wisdom with a brightness of smile and sparkle in eye will always be her echo.
Always be ready. Always be thankful. Always be personal. And when in doubt, always wear the pearls.
My heart is crushed. Rest well, dear dear Pam. Rest loved. And thank you. xx
Finally, finally, the moment has come. The 23rd Winter Olympic games have begun!
After months and months of controversy, debate, dispute and daily discussion around geopolitical taking attention away from the love of the games, finally the focus has turned to the athletes. Winter sports stars, standing tall carrying their national flags even though some of their nations may never see a snowflake touch their soil, be they brave Nigerian bobsledders prepared to take on break-neck speeds reaching up to 150km/hr, bare chested Tongan cross-country skiing hopeful braving bitter -20degC temperatures during the Opening Ceremony, or any of the over close to 3000 athletes from snow and non-snow nations excitedly (some forced to be flagless) ready to put their best forward for love of sport and country.
Together they stood, united under a white-dove graced South Korean night sky, to declare the 2018 Winter Olympic Games ‘on’.
From that moment, until the 2018 Winter Olympic flame is extinguished on February 25th, the world’s winter sports hopefuls, and a world of global fans, families and followers, will watch as 102 events unfold across 15 different sports underway in three cities – PyeongChang, Jeongseon, and coastal Gangneung.
Finally, the focus is on the real heroes of the Games – not the political negotiators, not the envoys, not the Heads of State grabbing the headlines. But in stead, the humans that are the real heroes of the moment, and all that will unfold with breathtaking courage, fierce commitment and awe-inspiring skill over the days ahead – the athletes.
Every two years we see the Olympic Games taking hold of our attention. Between the Summer and Winter Games, the world comes together to celebrate the global community’s love of sport as a force for personal and collective performance excellence across sports, and a platform for peace across nations. And yet, as sure as one can be that the athletes dreaming of this moment are working their hearts and bodies out to achieve gold, one can be sure that behind the scenes geopolitics is creating game-playing of its own unique kind. Some is subtle, undetectable. Yet, as has been the case now, and in Games past, the games behind the scenes take centre stage. Boycotts, bannings, behaviour undeserving of Olympic association, becomes the focus.
It has become a heartbreaking norm.
For global audiences, this has become familiar lead-up to the main Olympic events. A sadly familiar scene, each time making it acceptable for the athletes to become the second story.
How can this be possible? How can this be acceptable? How is it that the athletes take second place?
Unlike any other tine in the past, this time history was made when sport acted as a historic means of erasing borders, right at home, as for the first time in a decade the two Koreas stood as one, sport transcending other areas of competition and conflict, athletes acting as the ultimate ambassadors of hope.
As the 2018 Winter Olympics not undergo their daily tests of will and skill, the world has the opportunity to refocus – to refocus on the heroes behind the true humans-to-heroes pushing our often stubborn global community towards seeing one another as simply equals seeking a tomorrow where dreams can be fulfilled. These are the people rebooting our innate, absurd human connection to hope, recognising that God is indeed in the detail, taking noting for granted, not one millisecond, not one mile travelled, not one memory created.
As so perfectly and poetically stated to CNN by Ghana’s courageous skeleton athlete, Akwasi Frimpong in the lead-up to the Games, simply being a part of this time, part of this global elite sporting community, is beyond all that the human mind and spirit could have ever hoped for – just being in the athlete’s village “is like holy ground”.
May the world find that these Olympic Games, these heroic athletes, retrain our hearts and minds to focus on what truly unites billions of people across the global community. The one thing that can truly be a unifying force, a source for understanding. respect and peace. The one thing that we all share: the quest to fulfill a dream.
One thing. What is the one thing that you are going to do for you this year?
It is a question that often floats to the top of one’s thoughts when January arrives, and the habitual creation of New Years Resolutions. What is the one thing that you have committed to making happen this year? Truth is, it is often a handover of something meant to happen the year(s) before, that simply never managed to be achieved. Gaining a new language. Losing weight. Adding a new tick to the bucket list. Taking away those aspects of life creating clutter, chaos, concern.
Pause.
If the year could be marked by only one thing, one defining feature of change for oneself, what would it be? What really matters most? Importantly, what would make the freedom of a fresh, new 365 days unwasted if (finally) achieved. Equally, what would make a heart sad if the year were to pass and it remained a lingering wish of fulfillment.
These are the investments we make in ourselves. These are the words we carefully write as we capture the story of our lives. These are the quiet, personal quests that bring value to our lives. And learning. And quiet love of life.
At the same time, how can our lives be of value to others? For every ‘one for me’, what is the ‘one for them’. Who is the ‘them’? And how can our lives bring more life to theirs?
As time passes, as miles are crossed, as meaning is intensified, the ability to actively, even passively, make a difference in the life on another becomes more motivating. Because we can.
Which is another reason why January offers such a perfect opportunity to recommit. And in so doing, reconnect to one’s constructively compassionate heart. Something – some cause, some issue, some programme, some person, inspires breaking out of the bubble of ‘I’ and looking further to the ability to impact another.
Pick one. Whatever the cause, whatever the me issue, whatever the programme, whomever the person, be inspired to break out of the bubble, to make a difference. To commit to a year of support.
One heart. One choice. One stop-order.
In just one moment a year of making a genuine difference is mobilized, making this year one to quietly look upon as one that was lived richly.
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