Justin Nurse chats to 17-year-old Chaeli Mycroft, born with cerebral palsy, founder of The Chaeli Campaign, and winner of the 2011 International Children’s Peace Prize.

The walls of the home that is The Chaeli’s Campaign’s HQ in Plumstead, Cape Town, are filled with awards, and art, and photographs of Chaeli smiling
alongside South African sporting celebrities. What jumps out at me as I drown in the surrounding bustle of good willed activity are three stanzas from one of
Chaeli’s framed poems:

We cry with happiness
We smile through sadness
We laugh ’til we cry
Life’s a contradiction.

We search for so long but do not find
We look for strength in the strong
But find it in the weak
Life’s a contradiction.

We watch for leaders
Leading from the very front
When they’re pushing from the back
Life’s a contradiction.

Chaeli’s words, whether written or spoken, pack a mean punch…

I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy when I was 11 months old, and that’s when I started doing therapy and physio. I can’t remember whether I had fun, but it’s always been a big part of my life. There are days when I don’t feel like doing it, but it’s OK. I’m a normal teenager and sometimes I just don’t want to.

But you’re hardly a normal teenager in terms of what you’ve achieved. What makes you so motivated?

I’ve always been treated the same as my sister, who’s not disabled, so I’ve always been expected to do things. It was never like ‘it’s OK, you’re disabled’. Because if it was OK, I wouldn’t be functioning. The way that I was raised was that I could do everything, just a little differently. I was always included in the games that we played. If we played cricket, I’d keep score.

And that is what the Chaeli Campaign “sells”, kind of. That it can work, because it’s working with me. People need to get into that ‘it can work’ mindset. The five of us (my friends and I who started the Chaeli Campaign) have always had that mindset. We make a plan and have a good time as well, which is a bonus.

My mom and my dad are also very supportive and have made me see myself as the same as other people. And that has given me my drive: as other people don’t see me as the same as them, I’m motivated because I want them to.

Most inspiring person you’ve met?

Meeting the celebrities is cool and everything, but the most amazing people I know are the ones that nobody knows about. There’s a little boy in Khayelitsha whose parents have both had strokes. He’s 12 years old, still goes to school, looks after them, and does everything. That’s just amazing.

Do you consider yourself a leader?

I think I lead in ways that are quiet ways. Me just being somewhere is showing people that we can be out and do things. So I’m not necessarily loud and on this ‘mission’ all the time. But I believe I’m leading able-bodied people to see that we do things, and that we’re not just hermits at home.

I inspire people to be positive, but I’m not gonna lie to people and tell them that I’m positive all the time. Because nobody can be positive all the time. The majority of my days are good days, so I spread that message.

Everybody leads in their own way, whether or not they have a title. So for me, leadership is just about living the way you think you should, hoping that other
people see it the same way.

Difficulties?

The major difficulty in my life has been that people don’t seem to understand that I can still do things. They see my wheelchair before they see anything else. A lot of people are scared of not knowing what to do or say, and being too scared to ask.

I am very open to answering them, because if I don’t they’ll probably come up with their own, wrong answers. So I’m not gonna take offence if you ask me a
question that’s not 100% politically correct.

People call me a cripple sometimes, and I have an issue with that. It’s not the word; it’s the attitude behind the word that’s bad. But you have to make fun of
yourself sometimes, because otherwise you take life too seriously, which is way too tiring.

What does society need to do to change?

I think they need to listen. Because people are speaking. People are trying really hard to show that there are disabled people in society and that we deserve to be treated in the same way as anybody else in that society.

Disabled people have never really been a priority in this country, so now with apartheid over, people will hopefully have more vision – as a lot of people were sidelined due to apartheid. Things like not being allowed into buildings is something that disabled people deal with all of the time because of the way the buildings here have been built. So apartheid could have a positive spinoff in terms of creating that awareness of what it is like to be treated differently. A lot of people are stuck in their ways and the routine of everything; so if they could be more open to new things… even though disability isn’t a new thing… but if people are open-minded and we look at solutions rather than problems, a lot of things can happen.

Overseas, for example, the attitude towards disabled people is different. You’re not looked at funny. Public transport is also way better. We have a long way to go in South Africa. I think we will get there, eventually.

Winning the Nkosi (Childrens Peace Prize)?

It’s important that a disabled person won. I’m the first one! It’s given us a lot more exposure globally. People see that what we are doing is important, worthwhile work. Because we don’t always get the recognition we deserve, and it’s often a struggle. It lends credibility to what we are doing.

For me I think it’s going to open a lot of doors: the opportunity to meet people and visit other countries, and inspire other children in developing countries in
Africa. It’ll give me the opportunity to appreciate what I have here, because in the rest of Africa there are not a lot of resources for disabled people. I’m more
excited about going places and seeing things and learning, than about just having the prize.

Do you believe in destiny?

I do, but also that you create your own. I could’ve been an average disabled person who just stayed at home and didn’t do anything. Instead I chose to be active and go out and do things. So destiny is there, but you choose your way to it.

Your future?

I’m very open to opportunities, so I don’t want to put in my brain that I may go in this or that direction. Whatever you send out into the universe is going to go
somewhere. You create, and make things happen not just by believing that they will happen, but by actually doing something to make them happen. So, I don’t know…

Chaeli does know though. She knows so much more about life than her 17 years on this planet would suggest. Her energy is magnetizing, her generosity of spirit is abundant, and the truth she speaks is infectious. We can all learn a lot from her.

To find out more about the truly remarkable work that Chaeli, her family, and
her friends do, please visit: www.chaelicampaign.co.za

This article can also be found here

Portia De Smidt is co-owner of Africa Café, one of Cape Town’s most successful restaurants, specializing in African cuisine, and celebrating it’s 20th birthday this month. But there’s much more to her than just that, as Justin Nurse found out when he sat down to a meal of raw food with her…

I was born in Kimberley, and grew up in Swaziland mostly. We moved to get away from the bantu education system. I went to loads of different boarding
schools and grew up speaking English and Afrikaans. Swaziland schools were mixed so I met lots of different people from different cultures – more than the average black South African.

I matriculated in East London, and during my time there I applied to over 50 universities in America, pleading for a scholarship, funds and even plane fare. I also had to apply to the Minister of Education for permission to go to a white university (Rhodes University in Grahamstown).

I studied one year of pharmacy there in ’77 and then left when riots broke out. Attending lectures didn’t feel real at the time; what was real was all the suffering going on around the country. Out of the blue, one of the universities that I’d applied to – in Portland, Oregon – came back to me saying that I’d been accepted, all expenses paid.

I ended up studying fashion design, much to the disappointment of my parents. They said, ‘You need to study something where you can have your own business. You can’t go work for a white boss – you’ll end up nowhere! People are always sick so if you open up a pharmacy in the township you’ll always be dispensing and you’ll do well.’ Having your own business in the township was as far as one could see back then.

America’s all good and well but I love this country and wanted to come back. Four years later, I came back and got a job in the fashion industry. This was 1988. It was very nasty as things still hadn’t changed; even though I knew a lot about clothing and fabrics, because I was black, I couldn’t be in the forefront.

I became a door-to-door salesman, selling fabric in Nelspruit and Bloemfontein. Because I could speak Afrikaans I always did well with the meisies at the Post Office, earning lots of commission. In 1989 I met my husband Jason; we were friends for a year before we started dating, which was very controversial. When we’d hold hands in the movies or walking in the streets, people would sneer and spit at us. Both white and black people, funnily enough.

We moved to Soweto and lived together there, where we became more accepted. I’d learnt to cook from my grandmother and was good at it. So I started making big American muffins, which I’d go and sell to office blocks in Rosebank and Sandton, out of a picnic box. I got so popular that I’d sell out quickly and was soon employing four other ladies to sell for me.

In ’91, when there was faction fighting in Natal, things got really bad and we decided to move to Cape Town. We decided to open a restaurant, and the banks laughed at us when we showed them our business plan for opening an African restaurant. ‘Why would Africans want to eat in a restaurant?’ was their response.

Nobody gave us a penny, so we opened our restaurant in our house in Observatory. It was semi-detached, so people couldn’t be too noisy because of the neighbours. And that was the start of the Africa Café. At the time there were no African restaurants and people thought we were going to sell sheep heads and intestines – all strange stuff.

We had no experience and were considered bumbling idiots who ran a novelty restaurant in Observatory. The restaurant industry laughed at us. In the house we had trestles for tables and planks for benches. Whatever money Jason made as tips we lived off and the rest went back into the business.

We had no car and lived hand to mouth for the first three years. It was a struggle We’d hike everyday with our backpacks to buy our food at Pick n Pay. Eventually we bought a Magimix blender, our first real piece of equipment, and sold juice at the Rondebosch and Hout Bay markets. If we made R300 on a Saturday we were excited. We made a lot of mistakes, which in retrospect was a good thing, as thank goodness the banks hadn’t given us lots of money.

Cape Town was also very racist, and people struggled to converse with me; even in my own house, people often thought I was the maid. The apartheid thing was against us, as were some of the other, bigger restaurants that were owned by strong South African men. They used to bribe taxi drivers to not bring the tourists to us, rather to their restaurants in the Waterfront. It’s been a difficult road, with lots of uphill. Cape Town now – compared to Joburg – is still racist. People are comfortable in their beliefs, and that creates separation.

Restaurants are high risk, so it was a surprise when we just got busier. We had busloads of tourists that were struggling to park, so in ’99 we moved to Heritage Square in town. We hadn’t expected such an interest, and we were just doing what felt like the next right thing.

At first people didn’t know what the items on the menu were, so we’d bring a feast of food so people could taste everything and then concentrate on eating what they liked. I thought that communal eating was a good idea as that’s how it’s done in Africa. We’ve evolved with our restaurant over the years.

There was much plenty for many years, and then serving so many people became like serving sheep. I was doing the same thing every night, putting so much energy into the food, and feeling quite depleted. I brought the raw food idea to my husband and my brother (the other two owners), and Africa Café went raw at the beginning of last year with our lunches. Now it’s a part of our menu and we’re one of the only restaurants doing that.

We’ve won lots of awards, but they’re not things that I concentrate on. In terms of recognition and publicity I’m slippery with that, as I want to remain behind-the-scenes. Customers at the shop always think that one of the managers is the owner, and I’m happy with that. I’m just into food, giving people something they can enjoy.

I prepare all the raw food at home. Raw food has its own philosophy in that the energy that you work with goes into the food when you prepare it. So you have to be in a good mood, openhearted, loving. You give that to the food and the people get the life force of the food when they eat it. I speak through my food, and people feel my energy through the food that I prepare. It’s what I give and I give with a full heart. That is the whole goal.

A buyer from Wellness Warehouse tasted our raw food and we now supply them. Raw, local, healthy – it’s the way to go. There are raw restaurants in New York and California, so why not here? We supply them with 11 products, from raw cheeses to nut milk. And there’s hardly anybody else doing it.

I also do markets again now, with my daughter, selling raw food. Her company is Raw Food Religion and I help and support her with that. For years and years I did not want to talk to people and now that’s why I love doing the markets. People come and buy our products and tell us that they’ve gone raw and it’s helped them with cancer, or diabetes. You see the difference that you are making, and I love that.

My interest in food has grown in terms of its ability to heal the sick. I wish that some of our fat cat parliamentarians could come and try our food as they are so unhealthy. And most illnesses can be cured by what you eat – and of course, dealing with stress.

I am a leader because I do things in a way that has never been done before, and people usually follow. And I like giving advice, which my daughter says I should stop doing as it gets me into trouble!

For me, the future is about staying young as I like having the energy that I have. The future is togetherness, healing, and health. And by togetherness I don’t just mean humanity. I mean the plant kingdom and the animal kingdom as well.

This Article can also be found here: http://www.iol.co.za/capeargus/squaring-up-to-challenges-of-power-1.1208261

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