Pointless Points, Youth Day
I have done a few stupid things in my life. I am using the term "few"not literally but rather philosophically, probably to mean my fair share. Regardless, when it is time to compile a top ten list of the stupidest things I have ever done, I suspect nothing will top the conversation I had with Honorable Silvia Masebo member of parliament for Chongwe.
The year was 2012 and the place was some plush hotel in Seoul South Korea. I was in Korea as a student and we had been alerted to the presence of the Zambian president, the Late Michael Sata who was on state visit to that country. Our efforts to secure a meeting with the head of state failed as his schedule was very tight, the only scant consolation being our being afforded an opportunity to shake his hands. It was left to the Ministers that comprised his entourage, which included one Minister of Tourism and Environment Honourable Masebo to attend to us.
Prior to that meeting I had only one prior meeting with Ms Masebo which happened in the early 2000s, when I worked as a fuel attendant while waiting to go to University. Then, I was privileged enough (as my boss then continued to drum into me, while spotting a smile as wide as a football pitch) to be of service to her black Mercedes Benz. I didn't know her then and was a bit taken a back by my boss' rather peculiar and strange shenanigans, till I was whisked to the side and told who I was dealing with. I was then an ungainly teenager, with rebellion frothing in my head having read more than my fair share of Che Guevara even at that age, and saw no reason why I should go out of my way to be overly nice to Ms Masebo, who to be fair seemed not to want to attract attention to herself...but try telling that to my boss. He had to sit me down and give a very good lecture on how to treat ''important" people after the Minister had left.
Back to Korea, Honourable Masebo gathered the twenty or so of us in some corner of the hotel lobby, signaled to a reporter and put on her act. Very impressive act. Through out that time, Honourable Masebo and I had been walking hand in hand, having formed a special bond after she learned that I had spent much of my childhood in Chongwe and could speak Soli. What would ensue is the most pointless meeting I have ever had in my life, and believe me I have had my share of meetings. While still holding my hand, Honourable Masebo began telling us how Zambia depended on us the young ones. "we are now tired'', she said, actually looking tired. "we need you to come and implement your ideas''.
There followed a flurry of earnest contributions from my fellow "young'' Zambians regarding various aspects of Korean lessons Zambia could implement. From the subway system, to a technically inclined education system to public sector reform; no topic was left untouched, Ms Masebo nodded away in earnest agreement, even asking someone to take notes of the meeting.
It was while the meeting was going on that I had one of those epiphanous moments, where everything recedes into background noise and suddenly you can think straight. My inner voice went like " Keith who do you think you are, telling Masebo what she already knows''.It suddenly occurred to me that Honourable Masebo had heard this before, so much that she could probably guess what the next person was going to say before they even opened their mouth. Who did we think we were, telling Masebo about subways and think-tanks, when she had traveled the world over to countries even more sophisticated than Korea. This was simply padding for her.
And that can be said about every politician you will ever meet. They know what needs to be done and they have heard a trillion good ideas in their career. That they choose to do nothing, is not because they don't know what to do, or even that they don't want, it is simply because their political priorities have not aligned with yours.
So I am sorry dear youth, on your day, sweating on that speech, as you march past that minister, they are probably thinking about something else. Sorry that I have to tell you that the most your speech will do is probably be reported by some cut and paste journalist. What was the theme again? They don't really care, as long the theme is a catchy slogan. Theirs is to be important, to majestically tread the red carpet as they lay wreaths and inspect the guard. Looking forward to the speeches when they would catch a nap.
So till next youth day, when we wear our t-shirts, emblazoned with new slogans, or recycled ones, no one will really notice. Just pray the sun wont be scorching. It will be our day, we are the youths, the future of the country. Forever walking, forever marching, forever moving but never arriving.
Keep on making pointless points. You are the only one listening.
The year was 2012 and the place was some plush hotel in Seoul South Korea. I was in Korea as a student and we had been alerted to the presence of the Zambian president, the Late Michael Sata who was on state visit to that country. Our efforts to secure a meeting with the head of state failed as his schedule was very tight, the only scant consolation being our being afforded an opportunity to shake his hands. It was left to the Ministers that comprised his entourage, which included one Minister of Tourism and Environment Honourable Masebo to attend to us.
Prior to that meeting I had only one prior meeting with Ms Masebo which happened in the early 2000s, when I worked as a fuel attendant while waiting to go to University. Then, I was privileged enough (as my boss then continued to drum into me, while spotting a smile as wide as a football pitch) to be of service to her black Mercedes Benz. I didn't know her then and was a bit taken a back by my boss' rather peculiar and strange shenanigans, till I was whisked to the side and told who I was dealing with. I was then an ungainly teenager, with rebellion frothing in my head having read more than my fair share of Che Guevara even at that age, and saw no reason why I should go out of my way to be overly nice to Ms Masebo, who to be fair seemed not to want to attract attention to herself...but try telling that to my boss. He had to sit me down and give a very good lecture on how to treat ''important" people after the Minister had left.
Back to Korea, Honourable Masebo gathered the twenty or so of us in some corner of the hotel lobby, signaled to a reporter and put on her act. Very impressive act. Through out that time, Honourable Masebo and I had been walking hand in hand, having formed a special bond after she learned that I had spent much of my childhood in Chongwe and could speak Soli. What would ensue is the most pointless meeting I have ever had in my life, and believe me I have had my share of meetings. While still holding my hand, Honourable Masebo began telling us how Zambia depended on us the young ones. "we are now tired'', she said, actually looking tired. "we need you to come and implement your ideas''.
There followed a flurry of earnest contributions from my fellow "young'' Zambians regarding various aspects of Korean lessons Zambia could implement. From the subway system, to a technically inclined education system to public sector reform; no topic was left untouched, Ms Masebo nodded away in earnest agreement, even asking someone to take notes of the meeting.
It was while the meeting was going on that I had one of those epiphanous moments, where everything recedes into background noise and suddenly you can think straight. My inner voice went like " Keith who do you think you are, telling Masebo what she already knows''.It suddenly occurred to me that Honourable Masebo had heard this before, so much that she could probably guess what the next person was going to say before they even opened their mouth. Who did we think we were, telling Masebo about subways and think-tanks, when she had traveled the world over to countries even more sophisticated than Korea. This was simply padding for her.
And that can be said about every politician you will ever meet. They know what needs to be done and they have heard a trillion good ideas in their career. That they choose to do nothing, is not because they don't know what to do, or even that they don't want, it is simply because their political priorities have not aligned with yours.
So I am sorry dear youth, on your day, sweating on that speech, as you march past that minister, they are probably thinking about something else. Sorry that I have to tell you that the most your speech will do is probably be reported by some cut and paste journalist. What was the theme again? They don't really care, as long the theme is a catchy slogan. Theirs is to be important, to majestically tread the red carpet as they lay wreaths and inspect the guard. Looking forward to the speeches when they would catch a nap.
So till next youth day, when we wear our t-shirts, emblazoned with new slogans, or recycled ones, no one will really notice. Just pray the sun wont be scorching. It will be our day, we are the youths, the future of the country. Forever walking, forever marching, forever moving but never arriving.
Keep on making pointless points. You are the only one listening.
Always pleasant to read your pieces Keith. Thoroughly enjoyed this one lol
ReplyDelete'catchy' writeup, albeit philosophical!
ReplyDelete