Category: Where you are nobody

Thursday, 14 May 1998

The crossroads where I’m at right now is on the one hand to be like a fart – to smell bad for a little while before I disappear into nothingness. On the other hand, I can take on the challenge that lies ahead of me: to settle my account (in a manner of speaking) with the establishment, and then to have the freedom to choose where, how and on what terms I will have a relationship with this establishment.

Wednesday, 27 May 1998

It’s my fourth week back in South Africa.

One aspect of my planning in Korea where detail was somewhat scarce was the so-called entrepreneurial projects. What was this supposed to mean? I knew it was a weak point in my planning, but I figured once I got home, I could talk to people who know more about these things.

It’s three weeks later. What I found out so far confirms what I suspected. In fact, if you are serious about making money – what I figure most people are not, there are more than enough books available about everything you need to know.

In short, if you believe money gives you power, and you’re desperate enough to get this power, the road you have to take is not some secret, known only to a blissful minority, over-grown footpath. It’s a well-traced route, but one I believe most people – who have the potential to take it – don’t opt for, for one reason or another.

One problem is getting a project going and developing it to such a point where it makes money you need at least a few months. There are of course projects that can give you an income faster, but once again it takes time to think of such a project.

Fact is, you can’t go into a kitchen and think you’re going to cook up a masterpiece just because you’re hungry. Even the best chefs need certain things: the right ingredients (money), a good recipe (methods, concrete plans or specific projects), and time – if the chef doesn’t have enough time, the final result will either be raw, or it will simply fall apart.

What do I suggest? It’s possible to launch a successful project in less than six months, but from the outset, I have to be prepared to spend at least that much time on research and preparation. I should also be financially prepared to meet all my needs for at least six months.

A plan of action: A good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow. I have to formulate a Plan of Action for Today, considering Today’s Situation, Today’s Problems, and Today’s Needs. I have to reconsider everything I’ve said before, and reassess everything considering the knowledge I have about my situation today.

I’m not going to summarise several months’ worth of deliberations here. Suffice to say I’m still looking for the same thing, namely the ability to make choices and to take action. How I’m going to attain this ability is just a means to an end.

In terms of commitment to a means – let’s call it for arguments’ sake a “plan” – I can say that I am not currently working on a specific idea. It could be said that I am in a transitional phase between Korea and the Next Plan. That’s what I’m doing right now. I am working on the Next Plan.

[This piece is one of the reasons I had come so close to leaving Taiwan and returning to South Africa between 1999 and 2004 without ever doing it. I dreaded that moment where I would find myself sitting at another person’s kitchen table again, writing this type of journal entry.]

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Postscript [one]

Tuesday, 14 April 1998

I am 18 days from Singapore, 21 days from Johannesburg. I have twelve working days (and one class) left. Twenty kilogrammes of luggage have already been sent. I’m currently reading through my old newspapers. I plan to do absolutely nothing next week, just sit on my couch and wait for the time to pass.

I feel excited, a little anxious, perhaps a scrap sentimental. All previous references to this time were made within a certain context – work, people, weather, money, experience, time, emotions, and so on. Now that the long-awaited “last days” have arrived, I think of all those times, but naturally I’m more affected by the current situation.

The past three months or so have been like a magnifying glass. I know I am at a crossroads, an important new part of my life, and the bridge leading to it will soon be crossed. This is one of those times I would later remember as intellectually and emotionally meaningful. This is the ground from which profound meaning sprouts, a time to which one later refers back as a direction pointer, a determinant of future. The path I will embark on within a week or three will always have its beginning in Korea, in these last days.

I do feel the temptation to ask, in summary: What now?

I am going to focus on what is important to me – knowledge, freedom from a world that makes no sense to me and that holds no attraction for me, and financial independence. These dreams, and much more are within my reach in my own country.

I have to pursue my dreams until they’ve been fulfilled, or until there is no more life left in me. I knew that when I came here. I know it now.

I have made a full circle. I’m ready.

Postscript, two

Sunday, 19 April 1998

I grew up in a world where the church minister was the highest authority in the community when it came to ethics, morality and theology, and the state president was the highest authority in the field of political judgment and justice. If these two characters said white supremacy was right, then that was the way it was. How else?

Enough of that. I finally saw light in all these areas. Today I live in a world where there are no clear lines, or markers that indicate the path that one must take. Each person must sort that out for himself.

What I have learned is that money is more important than many other things in life. The more you have, the better. In the world I inhabit it is every person for himself. There is little mercy for the poor guy, and many rewards for the rich man or woman.

I’m not interested in the illusion of security promised by companies and corporations. People build their homes on foundations that are provided by, or are on loan from other people or businesses, only to find out one day to their shock and grief, and that of their families, that the foundations could crumble overnight. Why should I commit myself to such a world if I already have this knowledge, and have already experienced the shock, grief and humiliation?

Where is my place in this world? The answer is, I don’t have a place. If I want to feel sun on my skin, I’d have to sort that out in my own way with the Source. I should forget about self-appointed agents of the Sun who promise warmth and light, but on their terms.

Postscript, three

A snippet information from another source:

“People who are believers in themselves are usually pessimistic about the world, but optimistic that they can make a difference, can persevere, by going against society’s grain, trends and habits because conformity is the bottom line that must never be crossed. Mad at the world but secure in their own, these people are like missionaries, seeking converts to subscribe to their own views. They are pessimistic about the fact that the majority will never change, but optimistic that they will personally make a difference.”

(Korea Herald, 25 October 1996)

Postscript, four

Friday, 24 April 1998

Every now and then the question of a single ambition, a single focus comes up. Often, this has to do with other people’s perception of you – or at least what you think they think of you. When this question arises, you sometimes feel the urgent and intense need to hang a poster around your neck that says: “This is what I am. This is what my life is about.”

There are also times when you are tempted to be defiant, when you want to say: “I know who I am. I know what my dreams and ambitions are, and I don’t care what other people think about it.”

The problem is, few people are so independent and confident about themselves that what other people think of them is absolutely of no relevance. Even though I sometimes think I’m immune to it, the opposite seems to be true – I am very aware of other people’s opinions of who I am and what I do.

This leaves me with a clear problem. Since I don’t have a single word – “Student”, “Engineer”, “Journalist” or “Teacher” – to hang around my neck, I am exposed to other people’s views or perceptions of me that I am an unrealistic dreamer – a man of big words, but not of action.

Three possible solutions may be suggested: 1) I can avoid all the people whose opinions and views of me I regard as important; 2) I can hope for concrete success within a reasonable period, supported by verbal assurances that the success is part of the bigger picture that I have in mind; 3) I can try and hoodwink people with something that might impress them for the moment – that I am planning to go to Europe in a month or two, or something similar.

Fact is, there’s a tough road ahead of me. I expect that most people will not be impressed with my detailed explanations of my dreams and ambitions. I expect that most people will think I’m an unrealistic dreamer, a man of big words but not of action. Expect it to sometimes hit between the ribs.

In conclusion, and in view of renewed focus, how would I answer when a stranger – or a friend – flings the question of a single ambition, a singular determination in my direction?

“Power – to do what I want to do,” I will answer without looking in their direction, as if I am saying it to everyone who has ever wanted to know, or who has wanted to ask but didn’t expect an answer, or who had asked but did not understand.

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Friday, 27 March 1998

Allow me to tell you a story of two travellers. One guy arrives at a crossroads. He looks in every direction, walks to the carts placed at the entrance to each path, picks up a copy of all the brochures and reads through all of them. After an hour or so he sits down on a rock by the side of the road and wonders out loud: “Which one should I take?” As he sits there, silently pondering, time goes by.

The seasons come and go, and still this guy sits on his rock at the crossroads. And he ponders. Every now and then he takes a notebook from his back pocket and scribbles a few notes. Then he thinks some more. From time to time he rises to walk in circles for hours on end, occasionally stopping to jot down a few ideas, after which he sits down again.

From this position, he sees many other people arrive and depart. Sometimes he sees someone turn into a road; a few months later he sees that same person, stumbling out with a few bruises, a wound or two, and maybe a shirt or a jacket with a tear or a sleeve missing. This person may hang around for a while, catch his breath, and then he’ll start walking in another direction. The guy on the rock would shake his head, and he’ll know he’s doing the right thing – to think long and hard before taking action. After all, he doesn’t want to end up like that guy, he always tells himself. Then, after a while he will start circling the rock again, looking in this direction then that, writing down a few thoughts, and again sitting down on his rock, his face buried in his hands.

One bright autumn day another man appears on the horizon. The moment he reaches the crossroads, he goes down on his haunches. He sniffs the air for a moment, casts his eyes in a westerly direction, then north, then east. Then he gets up, slings his bag over his shoulder and starts walking.

The man on the rock observes this spectacle. He mutters to himself, and shakes his head. “How can this man just make a decision like that? I’ve been sitting here for years pondering what path I should take! After how many preliminary conclusions, after so many stories people have told me about the different paths, I still can’t decide which one is the best!”

Annoyed, the guy jumps down from his rock and yells after the man. The man, already some distance along, stops and looks behind him. The rock sitter picks up the pace.

“Wait a second … I was watching you from that rock,” he puffs when he catches up with the man. “I saw you arrive, and I saw how you sniffed the air, and then you just started walking. I’ve been sitting here for years. I know everything there is to know about all the paths. I’ve seen many people come and go, and still I can’t say for sure which is the one I should take. Most people pause for at least a day or two before they choose a path. But you? You sniff the air and just start walking! How can you be so sure?”

The guy looks at the rock sitter, sighs, and says: “You’ve been sitting on that rock for years. You’ve considered all the options over and over again, and you’ve probably filled dozens and dozens of notebooks. But what do you have from all the years of sitting and thinking? A rock, and it’s not even your own!

“I, like you, know there are obstacles in the path I’ve chosen. Good days await me … and there will probably also be less pleasant days, circumstances that would cause me to question whether I did, in fact, choose the right path. Every path has these elements of uncertainty.

“The idea,” the guy continues, “is not to choose the path with the least number of obstacles. The idea is to commit to a path regardless of the obstacles, whatever the risks, regardless of good weather or foul. To commit yourself to a path until you have reached its end.

“If you commit yourself to a path, your fellow travellers will accept you. That will increase a sense that you belong on that particular road, at that particular time.

“Every time I reach a crossroads, I see people like you, people who’ve been sitting on rocks for years on end arguing with themselves over which path to take. There is no absolute right path! What there is, is commitment. And that can make any path the right one for you.”

The rock sitter lowers his head and stares at the dirt and gravel around his feet. By the time he looks up again, the other man is already over the first hill.

* * *

A few days later a tired and weary traveller arrives at the crossroads. He notices a rock a few metres from a large oak tree. In the light of the late afternoon sun, his eye catches an inscription: The right path for you – is the path to which you are committed. And if you are committed to a path, it is the right path for you.

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Wednesday, 25 March 1998

In the first three years following my graduation, I struggled with the idea of commitment. I had no clue to what I should commit myself. I was also reluctant to devote myself to something or commit to it if there were a vague possibility of failure.

If you don’t have a focus point in your life, something you’re committed to, you are intensely aware of the effect this state of affairs has on your sense of well-being. Shortly after graduating from university (which left me with a small mountain of debt), I went to Europe for a few weeks (more debt). Whatever I tried to achieve with the trip, it did not succeed. Then I spent more than a year wandering between places in the hope that “something will happen” that could give me direction – in the hope that I might find something to which I can commit myself.

Eventually, I found myself in another foreign country, still looking for something to fill the void left by my lack of commitment. Or maybe I thought the mere fact that I was living abroad, away from the hassle of student loan creditors, away from even family and friends, would be enough – for the time being.

Alas, escaping does not work if you cannot escape from yourself. In my case, I could not escape the feeling that I don’t belong. If you’re not committed to something or someone, you’re not going to feel as if you belong. And if you don’t feel as if you belong, you will experience what some academics call existential angst.

You can keep yourself busy for a while with a variety of things to make up for the lack of commitment in your life, but once the effect of these measures begins to fade, or if you get bored with it, you’re back at square one.

To what do people commit themselves? They commit to a religious entity, an idea, a dream, an ideal, or to someone else, a group or even a subculture. That to which I want to devote myself ought to be meaningful enough to keep my attention and to take hold of my imagination. It will also help if this focus point is of such a nature that, by keeping myself busy with it, I can provide for my daily needs.

I’m a dreamer, but I am also realistic. I have seen enough, and I’ve experienced enough to know what kind of life awaits you if you are not free; if you are not in a position to make choices and act on them. I know what it feels like to wonder when you’re going to get evicted from your rental home, or to wonder when you’ll again sit down to a proper home-cooked meal, or to wonder if the next knock on the door will be the repo man. I know what it feels like to have dreams, but to not know whether a fraction of it will ever come true.

I can thus with a fair amount of certainty say that I am committed to the idea of freedom – freedom from debt bondage, and freedom from poverty. I can go further and say that I am dedicated to reaching a point where I will have options, and access to the necessary resources to act on choices made; also to having the ability to give more than I ask. It only makes sense to then also commit myself to a path that would lead to financial wealth – not as an end destination, but as a path to freedom.

Where is a better place to commit myself to the above-mentioned ideals than the piece of earth where I was born and where my deepest roots still lie?

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Tuesday, 24 March 1998

Everything I’ve always said about freedom, financial debt, my own ideals, my aspirations, my dreams, achieving my potential, living as I’d like to live, crystallise around a single, essential prerequisite. I have seen enough, experienced enough, and read and heard enough to understand how important power is: The power to make choices and act on those choices. “Kto kgo?” asked Lenin. “Who (masters) whom?”

If you don’t want to play the role of the servant, the debtor, the person in self-imposed economic exile, for the rest of your life, stop running and start working, purposefully, effectively, with a single goal in mind: to acquire what will make you free – from creditors, bailiffs, poverty, and an insignificant existence, and free of economic masters who want to rule your life.

If I want to survive, in the first place, and then be able to get more out of life than mere survival, and to have the ability to exercise my choices, I’d have to work on obtaining the one resource that will make these things possible for me: financial prosperity. That’s all that remains.

Easier said than done? Not if it has taken your entire life so far, years of poverty, shame, embarrassment, and frustration to get to the point where you realise that this is the primary means to so much you hope to achieve.

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