Why I'm Living Below the Line

When I was 10, I went with my family to South Africa for my grandfather's (Oupa Natie as we call him) 80th Birthday. He was ludicrously fit for his age- doing press ups and sit ups every morning. That's right - my granddad was in much better shape at 80 than I am now. Depressing but true.

Oupa Natie was a remarkable man with a high forehead and a very prominent nasal appendage who devoted his life to looking after his family and fighting apartheid in South Africa.

I remember the day before the birthday party like it was yesterday - it has impacted my life more than any other day. We went out for lunch, before going back for to the apartment. There was an air of anticipation I didn't really understand - the party was tomorrow! The excitement was infectious though.

Ouma Molly - my gran - put her hand on my shoulder and said "Dennis - you have to call him Mr President or President Mandela". And in he came, the most famous man on the planet and I didn't know who he was. He was one of Oupa's oldest friends from the anti-apartheid movement, Oupa having been his accountant before Madiba was sent to jail for 27 years.

Now embarrassing moment time - I had only really started learning English three years previously, so I was rubbish with accents. And Madiba has a humdinger (which incidentally sounds nothing like Morgan Freeman's!). So he comes to me in line, shakes my hand as he looks down from a massive height and says "Hello - How are you?" In my finest little german boy accent I answered "I'm OK thanks." Not bad so far.

If only he had actually asked "How are you?" But he didn't - he'd asked "How old are you?" So once I replied, he chuckles in his grandfather-ish way, and says "Oh - you're ok years old!"

Mortified. But I remember how in awe of Mandela I was that day - despite not really knowing who he was. But he had an aura that left me fascinated - and wanting to find out everything I could.

At the party the next day I met some of the men that were sent to prison with Mandela - Ahmed Kathrada and Walter Sisulu. Small men, but giants that inspired their country. Kathrada gave my granddad a signed copy of the book The Rivonia Trial, about the trial where they were sentenced. Upa gave it to me and I read it in two days. 

Reading about how these men dreamt and hoped of a better world - a better situation for their people - inspired in me a life long desire to make a difference.

It's a desire that has informed my life so far - and it's the reason why I'm living below the line.

When it comes to extreme poverty, we have a choice:

we can let it happen and be bystanders - or we can fight it

Ours is the first generation which actually has the opportunity and potential to end extreme poverty - let's work together to make it happen.

http://www.justgiving.com/Dennis-Marcus