Bringing Joy and Hope to Thailand’s Underprivileged Communities: A Glimpse into Gift of Happiness Foundation’s Impact
Imagine working construction all day in 32-degree sun and then coming home to a corrugated iron kiln with nothing but a fan to help regulate the heat. Most people the world over would see these as unlivable conditions. But, so many people live with that as their daily bread, well, if they are able to get daily bread. Sometimes, all one needs is a gift of happiness.
A Glimpse into Bangkok’s Squatter Camps:
Imagine coming home with your clothes so caked with cement that when it rains, the cement forms a muddy concrete veranda that threatens to steal your only pair of slippers. Now imagine giving birth in one of these ovens. How do you find any joy?
How do you bring up children in these conditions? How do you ensure they do not fall into the same cycle you found yourself in? They say charity starts at home, but what charity can you offer when you barely have enough to fill your own stomach?
This is what I walked into when I joined Gift of Happiness on one of their charitable trips in Bangkok. We went to what can only be termed a squatter camp in Bangkok. The camp is occupied by 50-60 construction workers and their families. The camp is “in a blink, and you will miss it” strip of land surrounded by luxurious villas and gated communities. I haven’t seen the juxtaposition of the “haves” and “have-nots” since South Africa. My country, where lush wine estates neighbour squalor and squatter camps. What dreams and resentment must such trappings of wealth inspire in those without?
A Beacon of Hope in the Midst of Adversity:
When one thinks of squatter camps, misery, discontent and despondency jump into the collective consciousness. However, that is not what you see when you skip past the gate to this community. All you see are people trying to live the best they can. Animals prowl through the camp, smiles adorn people’s faces, and a welcoming air pervades. It all says this is who we are for now but not who we will always be.
Gift of Happiness’s mission is very easy to understand: “Our job is not to judge. It is not to consider if someone deserves something. Our job is to LIFT the fallen, RESTORE the broken and to HEAL the hurting.”
Natasha, Letitia and I walked into the community not knowing what to expect. One thing we knew was that we wouldn’t walk out unaffected. The community is made up of about 30 or so corrugated iron shacks settling into soil. Soil that was now wet due to the rainy season. Walking around the community, you can catch glimpses into homes way too spare. However, even in all of these, there were smiles and children laughing.
We were accompanied by Mr. Nicol Burr and a Thai volunteer from Gift of Happiness. On arriving, we started to unload the truck, which was full to the brim with clothes in opaque plastic bags. My South African concept of dignity had me walking on eggshells at first lest my intrusion be seen as a thrill at those less fortunate’s expense. However, we were welcomed with wais and attempts to communicate. The clothes were laid down on a tarp so that everyone could see what was available.
You got to see the community, trust and love.
Before people could start taking what they wanted and needed, Natasha and Letitia handed out the bags of rice we had donated to the cause. Then came the clothes sharing. People came up and took what they wanted and then moved aside to let someone else get an item. There were no clothes bin battles or pushing and shoving. Instead, you got to see the community, trust and love that these people had built during their time at the camp. We ended up leaving before they had finished taking everything. After all, the happiness is in the giving and not in seeing the taking.
Gift of Happiness Foundation’s unwavering commitment to providing resources, opportunities, and a glimmer of hope to underprivileged children and families in Thailand is nothing short of commendable. Their mission to combat childhood poverty through collaborative partnerships, equal access to education, and provision of essential resources embodies the spirit of compassion and social inclusion.
In a world where disparities between the privileged and the less fortunate are stark, organizations like Gift of Happiness serve as beacons of hope, reminding us that positive change is possible, one act of kindness at a time. Through their tireless efforts, they are lifting spirits, mending lives, and inspiring a brighter future for those who need it most.
Photos courtesy of Gift of Happiness Foundation.
The World’s Beauty Becomes Enough
Each night I have one dream. I dream of freedom of movement and being able to go wherever I want to. I dream of seeing an extraordinary sunrise over a new horizon. A fervent wish that I cannot fulfil, at least not yet. So, like the billions of people worldwide, I must make do with what I have. What do I have? I have Ningbo and the multitude of picturesque parks that the city offers. A park is a consolation prize compared to the more fantastic dream, but Ningbo’s parks do their very best to awe and inspire. In many ways, they succeed.
One of the best things about Ningbo is how well the city has managed to maintain a balance between development and staying green. Even the shortest walk around your neighbourhood will happen in a park. It almost feels like there is a new park popping up every day. That being said, my favourite is still and probably always will be moon lake park in Haishu. I have spent many a spring and autumn evening walking around the park, taking photos and watching people as they enjoy a day out with family, friends and lovers. Sometimes it feels like a bit of an invasion of private moments, but that feeling is usually quickly dispelled when I find someone trying to sneak a picture of the foreigner doing perfectly normal things. But that is the nature of a park, no?
Parks are “connection”
What is a park? That seems like an easy enough question to answer. A park is a large garden or area of land used for recreational activities. People see the towering trees, the bubbling brooks and serene streams, and even the blossoming blooms. We look at the flowers and believe ourselves to be part of nature. That is not all that parks are. Parks are “connection”. For some, these scattered oases dotting the city landscape are the only point of connection to where we truly come from.
Parks do not just give us a chance to connect to nature but also connect with other humans. We get a little peek into other people’s lives. We can create epic narratives of how a person came to be sitting in that exact spot. I sometimes look at the grandmas and grandpas walking around, and I wish I had the language ability to start a conversation with one of them. I want to sit down and hear what wisdom they have learnt in their time on this earth, but alas, my Chinese is not yet at a level where I could do that, something I lament sometimes.
When I first came to Ningbo, my friend and I would explore Moon Lake. The thought of watching the full moon above Moon Lake was titillating for some reason. Each time was an adventure, from the time we got onto the boats and paddled around the lake to being invited to join the crowd of dancing grandpas and grandmas. I am pretty sure I once ended up getting an impromptu Tai Qi lesson because I stared too long at the master going through his evening exercises. That is what parks and beauty have always been for me.
The photo is not appreciation
Sometimes when I walk through the park, a deep melancholy overtakes me as I see how the past few days have changed things. I see the efforts to bring things back to normal, but the wish is still there to have more, see more, and experience more. When that happens, I often find myself reaching for my camera to take photos. Taking a picture is proof that I appreciate my blessings, but once the image is taken, that moment of beauty is soon forgotten. I don’t really see that tree, plant, or building. The photo is not appreciation. Instead, it is documentation to be made and then soon forgotten.
Nature is not the star in those moments, and it is not enough to just experience it. It is not enough for me to just take a moment and take it in. That is something of which I feel many of us are guilty. We are so caught up in trying to capture the moment for later enjoyment and sharing with others that we don’t fully embrace its wonder. Toni Morrison wrote: “At some point in life, the world’s beauty becomes enough. You don’t need to photograph, paint, or even remember it. It is enough.” I try and remember this when the urge to document nature overtakes the need to experience it.
Ningbo is a city festooned with a myriad of parks.
Ningbo is a city festooned with a myriad of parks. We are blessed to be able to experience such beauty at such a challenging time. Spring is here, and we have the opportunity to go out there and see it for its immeasurable beauty. We would be remiss if we didn’t go out there when we could and appreciate it. We may not be able to take in an extraordinary sunrise over a new horizon, but we can still enjoy the blossoms as they take their first breaths on a beautiful spring day.
Feature Article was written by me and originally appeared in Ningbo Focus magazine
Writing: The Vulnerable Art
Life is full of crucibles that test and show us our true selves. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is a common adage. I can’t remember a time when I have felt as vulnerable as over the past two years or so. I believe I have only been able to survive because of the relationships and people around me. I am lucky and grateful to each and everyone who has supported me. I hope I have been as supportive of them.
The issue with support is you can’t be supportive if you don’t empathize, and you can’t empathize if you can’t communicate. And genuine communication requires vulnerability because you have to expose yourself to someone else’s probing stare, or at least it feels that way. In a way, when you communicate, you say: “I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams” Thank you, W.B. Yeats. When I express myself being understood is always my fervent hope. It isn’t always so, but I keep opening up and hoping for better results.
This is tenfold true as a teacher, and writing requires hundredfold honesty. This is not always easy because we rarely know how our students will respond to our work. I teach at a vocational college in Ningbo, and I meet students from all walks of life. As their teacher, it is my responsibility to teach them how to communicate in English, and it is their responsibility to be receptive to my efforts. I cannot imagine their first-day anxiety of walking into a class and finding a South African teacher speaking English at you. I say, “at them” and not “with them” because for some, the first couple of days, I speak and all I get is silence. After the first couple of days, they usually calm down and get down to being the best they can be. As the teacher, it is my duty to support them through this adapting process.
As for writing nothing is simpler; all you have to do is expose every nook and cranny of your heart to a sometimes uncaring, unknown audience. That is a little dramatic, but that is how it sometimes feels. Some may argue that is true of all art, that art requires singular vulnerability from an artist and trust in the audience’s reception. Your art will always be off the mark without this all-important exposure because you are not being “real”. Even as I write this piece, I am scared it will be seen as pretentious, pointless, and unnecessary. But that’s how I feel about all my work because I am stalked by this ever-present voice in the back of my head: “Today is the day they find out you aren’t really a writer. You are just a poser wasting everyone’s time.” It’s called imposter syndrome. And it would be so much worse if not for the support of friends and family.
I have been writing for Ningbo Focus for nearly two years now. It has been amazing and some of the best times of my life. It has really cemented my love and aspirations of being a writer. That is not to say it hasn’t been difficult at times. The most challenging times are always just before I start writing and when I am about to submit. Why? Those are the crucial moments when you choose a path and commit to that path. Those are the moments when I feel the most vulnerable because I must express who I am. As writers, we stamp our identity into everything single syllable, and then we wait for you, the reader, to pat us on the head and tell us we have been a good boy.
The first edition published under my name was the most nerve-racking moment in my professional life, and I have had some of my classes observed by a crowd of school leaders and parents. That felt like a “make it or break it” moment but was that nothing in comparison to publishing my first edition. I pendulumed from “it’s going to be amazing” to “Everyone is going to hate it, and I will never be able to show my face in Ningbo public ever again.” In the end, it didn’t kill me, and I am stronger for it, thanks to my friends. The truth of the matter is I feel I am strong enough now, and I could deal with having less trying times. I still have those moments of doubt that creep in at the most inopportune moments, but I persist. It is worth it for the opportunity to show who Ningbo is, what Ningbo is, and who I am.
Feature Article was written by me and originally appeared in Ningbo Focus magazine
Music and People are My Home
One of my earliest memories is Sunday morning breakfast. Most mornings would be a flurry of activity as everyone went to work but Sundays were different. Sunday was the one day when my grandmother, parents, and I shared breakfast. It typically started with my father switching on the radio or putting on a tape. I would sit there watching the intricate dance of love as they cleaned, cooked, and danced around the kitchen. All this set perfectly to the sound of music. This is where my love of music began, and it is why my home is music.
My home is music and people
South Africa is a country built on music. We sing when we are happy, we sing when we are sad, and we sing when we are angry. Music is an integral part of life. It can be both a unifier and a divider. It is not unheard of for people on a road trip to get to a petrol station exhausted but start dancing when you get out of the car, because your song just came on. I can count how many times I have found myself in a dance battle with my younger brother and lost. My home is music and people.
So how does one find home when you are so far away from the things that define what home is for you? Can you make a home when you sit in a subway alone and people move away, for reasons unknown, from you because you are different, and you cannot see a single person who looks like you? These questions plagued me when I first came, and I think they are very common for most foreigners as they live and build lives here. Whenever someone moved away from me, I always thought of Nina Simone’s “Don’t let me be misunderstood”. The song goes “I am just a soul whose intentions are good, please don’t let me be misunderstood”. Music has always comforted me when the rare incident occurs.
Home becomes new memories
I never thought I suffered from homesickness until I found myself in a situation where I could not go home. I find myself whispering to myself: “I miss home”. Sometimes I look through old photos, trying to relive long-past moments, with family and friends. But then the photos run out and the memories fade. When it strikes and I find myself climbing the walls just for a taste of home, music is there to remind me of who I am and why I am here. I call on my South African friends and listen to the song: “The Way Kungakhona” by Bongo Muffin. Home becomes new memories with new friends and family while music plays in the background enchanting and crystalizing the moment.
Music is the pillow my soul rests its head on. It is the home I come back to each night after a long day. Music is the needle that has helped sow me into my life here in Ningbo. Each semester I do a lesson on music with my students. This is usually where I get to know them much better because we share our music and listen to it, expressing our thoughts, and occasionally a student will share a profound memory from their lives uncovered by a song. They say: if you want to know someone, look at their playlist, making music the social lubricant I use to navigate and meet new people.
Their smiles are home
There is a big difference between moving to another country and making a home there. The former is fleeting and mutable while the latter is immutable and involves entrenching your roots into a place. Once a home is made, it leaves an indelible mark that resonates even if you move away later. That’s why it is best to bring a piece of your previous home with you to your next one. For me, this piece is music and people. Few things make me as happy as when I come back from other cities and am met by Ningbo people as I enter the city. There is a warm familiarity to them. Their smiles are home.
My Sunday mornings are very far from that old kitchen table. They are far from the parents who would dance and sing to songs of their youth. My grandmother is no longer here to share a wise word while tapping her feet. The scene and people may be different, but I still try to make my Sunday mornings special, whether alone or with friends. Now I am the one at the stove while friends fiddle with their phones trying to find the ideal song to enthral us in the moment.
Feature Article was written by me and originally appeared in Ningbo Focus magazine
Self-Care-It Is Not One Size Fits All
Burnout is a thing, but so is self-care. Society is getting used to the idea we need to take time for ourselves and not overwork ourselves. In the past, if you complained about working too hard, you were lazy. If you even considered taking a day off/ vacation, then you did not love your work. And not loving yourself was a mortal sin. I believed this for the longest time. I come from a fairly ambitious family and grew up with the philosophy “If you want something, work for it. If it does not exist, then create it.”
This philosophy has helped me achieve a lot, but it came at a cost. At some point, I found myself on holiday in a tiny hotel room, working feverishly. It was my last day there, but I had not left my hotel room the entire time because I was glued to my laptop. At the time, I saw nothing wrong with this. After all, I was building my future. I only realized the cost when I looked in the mirror a few months later and did not recognize the person I saw. My skin was splotchy and acne-ridden. I was horribly overweight and was developing a cough I could not explain. All of this is the result of working 22 hours a day, 7 days a week. The sad part was I couldn’t see any progress in my life. The only progress was the size of my waist and the size of the bags under my eyes.
I am a workaholic
So, hello everyone I am Nyameko, and I am a workaholic. The lessons I have learnt since then could fill a theatre.
First and foremost, I learnt my first responsibility is to myself. I am responsible for your mind and body. They are the first and only things I truly own. Sometimes we are so caught up in chasing our dreams we forget that we also must take care of our bodies, or we will just start breaking down. They say: We spend our health to make our wealth and then spend our wealth to make our health. This is a cycle many of us find ourselves in. I am not saying you must be in marathon running condition, but it is important to at least be able to do the other things you love doing. This means eating, resting, and moving well.
Self-care is more than just something people say to sound progressive. If you go on social media, you will find hundreds of videos of people prescribing what self-care means and what you are supposed to do. However, there is no single path to self-care. Some people find a quiet book at home while some find going clubbing all night works best to recharge their energies. You know yourself best and you know what feeds your soul best. So go out there and do it, even if you are away from other duties for an hour or so.
Be Careful What You Put Your Energy Into
The first major lesson I have learned is to be careful of what I put my energy into. Sometimes I can be a people pleaser, meaning I will take on other people’s troubles and responsibilities, because they asked. This is something that has led me down some very dark holes. I feel burnt out most when I have taken on too much to please other people and have not focused on what I need. I have gotten better, instead focusing on putting energy into things that align with who I am and what I want. Helping people is extremely important, but you can’t help anyone if you are running on empty and have nothing more to give.
Hurt People, Hurt People
I took a long time to learn this lesson. I used to put a smile on my face even when I was hurting because that was what was expected of me. The problem with this was I would end up being vitriolic and vile to people, even if my intentions were to help, but because I was speaking from a place of hurt and not my true self. I would then go home and beat myself up because of my actions, and the cycle would continue. It only took me understanding I must first heal myself before I can go out into the world to help. In other words, the best way to care for others is self-care. This was probably the hardest lesson to learn.
I hate cliches but they are cliches because they have a lot of truth. So here goes this piece’s cliché: “You cannot fill someone else’s cup if yours is empty.” Helping other people means you must use resources, mental or physical, these take a toll on you. If you keep helping people without looking after yourself, you risk burnout and believe me, you don’t want that.
These are the lessons I have learned. You may learn completely different lessons, and that is okay. Just remember self-care and to be kind to yourself.
Feature Article was written by me and originally appeared in Ningbo Focus magazine