Freedom

Freedom has been on my mind a lot lately. Although I am not in any literal prison, I have been acutely aware, recently, that I am not free. Of course, we are all free to different degrees. We have free will, whatever the circumstances. We have the freedom to determine our attitude. We have the freedom to make a multitude of choices with the hand we are dealt. But within those parameters, I am aware that, through the response I freely chose to the circumstances I did not, I have established myself in an environment where, no, I am not free. Although there are no legal constraints on my freedom of movement, it is astounding how strong social constraints can be. I step outside my flat and dozens of eyes on me. Much as I long and ache and burn to take a walk, every step is marred by hateful comments, car horns, sometimes stones thrown or spitting. I knew before I came here three years ago, that this is a conservative society and there would be sacrifices. So I dressed to defy the merciless desert weather, covered from neck to foot. It was not enough. Later I also began to wear a headscarf, dark glasses, anything to preserve some modicum of anonymity. But it doesn’t change things much. There are still knocks at the door at night, because I am a woman on my own, and everybody knows what that supposedly means. And whatever they think it means, here I am, alone. I now only leave home for work and urgent errands. Because I have freedom of choice, and I choose not to put myself in harm’s way. I freely choose not to provoke a situation that will let people act in a way that tempts me to hatred. And so, I freely choose captivity.

But everything is relative. During six and a half years of being held hostage, Ingrid Betancourt believed beyond belief that she would be released, long after the world had forgotten, or given up. In the spate of interviews she has given since her miraculous release last week, it is clear that she used her freedom to choose to continue to believe, for all those years. Finally, it was belief that won.

And then there is the insidious captivity of material things. Some are held captive by wealth: Affluenza is the term coined by UK psychologist Oliver James for the malaise of the middle classes and above. At the other end of the spectrum, much of the world is still marching along, meagerly fuelled by under a dollar a day. Escape from Luanda is a bold film documenting the lives of students at a music school in Angola’s capital, currently airing on BBCWorldNews. Rather than narration, the students tell their tales in subtitled Portuguese to the soundtrack of their heavenly music. The wistful melody of Africa has a mesmerizing rhythm, and therein lies the escape. Music, art, dreams transport us beyond poverty of the body and the soul, beyond the fragile human form, beyond captivity.

And therein lies freedom.