It is not often when one is mesmerised by the sight of a black plastic bag. In fact most often they are repulsive sights, strewn across strands of rural and urban wire fences like dirty debris dumped without care. Or half chewed by desperate dogs who leave the contents to stink in the sun, like a lion leaves the stomach contents of its kill.

The objects of my transfixed gaze were not attached to any earthly structure flapping around like an old defeated flag. Instead they were flying, and flying amazingly high, attached only to the joy of a child’s finger tip through a gossamer like strand of silk.

These were well crafted kites. Light enough to fly high over the RDP houses of Kwa Mashu, but strong enough to withstand the strong breeze of an impending storm. They were perfectly balanced, and even had a knotted tail which weaved and danced through the darkening winds.

Of course there was much I’d like to emulate in my own life in the observing of those kites. Strength with flexibility. Absorption as well as agility. The simple pleasure of flying a kite.

What really struck me though was the ingenuity, and I realised maybe for the first time why the word ‘genius’ lies at the heart of ingenuity. Someone with genius crafted those kites, and I wondered whether my children, with all their private school education could ever come close. I know I couldn’t.

Could we find such simple pleasure in a black plastic bag, when it seems that today only the latest technology, camping accessory or Ping G20 driver can hold our attention and our affection for a mere modicum of minutes?

In Havelock, an old woman, broad as she was tall, taught me a valuable lesson in Leadership.

With a slow and steady gait and barely able to pass through the narrow passages of the organic structure of the informal settlement, her whole being stopped as she noticed the wisp of smoke, as thin as the Kwa Mashu kite’s umbilical cords, rise from the inside of a locked shack.

In an instant there was action as the web of her network and the work of her influence took hold. The door was smashed open, the fire was isolated and water was brought. Who knows how long it may have taken to erupt in a full blown shack fire, but the consequences of that are too disastrous to contemplate, especially given the little which people do have in these areas.

She knew what to do in the very moment where she might have wondered what to do, and she displayed all the skills of a true tracker in her awareness, decision making, and ability to influence others.

Leadership indeed comes in multiple shapes and forms.

So too does courage.

And just when we think these forms belong only to the human realm of wisdom, we are joined on a game drive by a most unusual guest.

As we drove off the plains of Zuca and ambled our way up a chilly winter morning’s dirt road, a reptilian head emerged from a burrow on the side of the road. Something scared it enough to leave the safety of its abode, and in its panic to dive back in at the sight of the noisy four tyred monolith, the rock monitor found that the way in was more challenging than the way out.

I have often found that too in my own life.

It was as exposed and vulnerable in the open as a fledgling bird fallen from its own nest. In amongst the four deadly legs of metal and rubber, capable of crushing creatures many times larger than it, with grinding gears and spinning scythes, as well as a plume of toxic gas from its tail, the Monitor had choice, and it chose its course of action immediately and interestingly.

It chose to go in. It did not run away. It went right in to the heart of the beast, deep into its bodywork with all its grinding and gassing, cutting and crunching and crushing, all its heat and its hate.

When last did I ever do that? When did I seek safety in the very thing which scares me near to death, and has had me running for the hills away from exposure and vulnerability and far away from the perceived failures of the day?

Sometimes, I am learning that I have to go in. I have to go in to my roots. I have to dig deep to get there. And I certainly have to go in to my challenges. To search for their root causes, to have the courage to dwell there for a while, and then the resilience and the energy to emerge with a different viewpoint and an exciting set of possibilities.

I knew all this once as I pulled off my first proper tackle on a rugby field, and it was an extraordinary reminder from the most unlikely of Lizards.

That large lizard like crusader would emerge from the chassis of its own chagrin, annoyed but alive, embarrassed but empowered, and faced not only with new possibilities, but a whole new territory many miles away from its previous one after its unintended Uber odyssey.

In his book “The Structure of Morale”, JT Mac Curdy, a Canadian psychologist wrote this:-

“We are all of us not merely liable to fear, we are also prone to be afraid of being afraid, and the conquering of fear produces exhilaration...When we have been afraid, that we may panic in an air raid, and, when it has happened, we have exhibited to others the calm exterior that we are now safe, the contrast between the previous apprehension and the present feeling of relief and feeling of security promotes a self – confidence that is the very Father and Mother of Courage.”

How indeed do I build self confidence if I don’t understand self?

How do I build courage if I don’t go in and face up to fear?

I don’t need to buy a kite to enjoy one, and I can put out my own fires if I am prepared to get closer to the flame.

I can emerge from danger by going through it sometimes.

I’ve done this before – just ask that U13 B rugby wing from Randburg Hoerskool!

I can do it again

Steve