Anyway, I can now cross off “Take part in a political rally and march to parliament with an indignant but passionate mob in Africa” from my Bucket List. Done and done. And what better cause to do it for than the basic human right to an equal and quality education? Or a campaign for school libraries and other essential school infrastructure, more specifically? Few things come to mind.
The campaign was a long time coming, organized by the local organization Equal Education (check them out on Facebook, they’re pretty terrific). Marching to demand that the Minister of Education finalize and sign the promised Minimum Norms and Standards for School Infrastructure policy by the deadline of April 1st, supporters hoped to finally take the first of many steps in ensuring that all schools in South Africa have every physical resource it needs to successfully reach and educate all learners. Can you believe that up until now, there hasn’t been an official national document outlining and demanding vital physical specifications for school buildings? “Safe, secure schools with adequate resources must be the starting point” to attaining the goal of quality education for all, declares Equal Ed (in addition to hard-working learners, involved parents, and well-trained and supported teachers). Not that long ago (but long enough, for goodness sake), Apartheid dictated which schools received what resources, and what color people received what degree of quality education. The schools of today still reflect this dark and limiting history. According to a 2009 report by the SA Department of Education, of all public schools in South Africa, approximately 20% of them do not have proper access to water, or to electricity. 11% do not have fencing to keep out crime and violence and 17% do not have sports facilities to keep their kids active and off the street. Most striking, however, is that 90% of schools across the nation do not have stocked computer centres, 95% do not have stocked laboratories, and 92% do not have functional libraries. And the students are exceedingly and painfully aware of it.
Imagine a blazing hot Monday morning in urban southern Africa, a school holiday, the sun beating down on you as you stand among thousands of people (almost entirely school children, the majority of whom are wearing their various school uniforms) in the giant courtyard that is Cape Town’s historical Grand Parade. Not only is this the exact location where Nelson Mandela gave his first speech to the public after being released from prison; it’s now also the place where I watched learners of all colors and ages stand up, cheer, dance, and demand that their voices be heard… all to the tune of DJ Oskido and the band Freshlyground (think Waka Waka and the World Cup), who showed up that day to play and show their support.
After an hour or two of assembling our numbers, some educational rally cries, and the obligatory intense dance circles (in which it became painfully and anecdotally evident that we were the racial minority, and about as white-bread in the dancing world as one can get… not that Lucetta and I didn’t try, haha; I don’t think there’s anything as funny to African teenagers than watching two white girls “dance”), the time came to march to Parliament.
I was nearly brought to tears, readers, after overcoming my initial shock. Inconceivable numbers of marchers (over 20,000, I read later) surrounded me on all sides as we flooded the city streets, stopping traffic in every direction and spanning four lanes across. Hand-painted cardboard signs and banners flew up in students’ hands far and wide, demanding the eradication of mud schools and the right to libraries for study and safe haven. From rally cries to rousing renditions of the national anthem in three different languages, the voices of children, more than anyone else, filled the air with hope and a sense of common ground. I’ve never been more proud to be anywhere, it felt like. Who can ignore such an innocent and earnest crowd 20,000 strong? Hopefully not this government. 
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