and more

People, as a group, want more. In the informal settlements of Nyanga, Soweto, Googletho and Khayelitsha families live in shacks. Not solid shacks – sketchy ones where you would question housing a new rake. You know what they want? More.

So they steal electricity by tapping a light pole from a slightly better neighborhood and the government will sooner or later provide a water spicket within a reasonable distance. Surely a huge stride forward. And then you know what they want? More.

It’s rare but some people start in poverty – but get more and more and more until at some point they may have living conditions, employment and even tolerable health care – just like other middle class people in the modern world. But it’s not enough. They want more.

We gather piles of shiny things and scramble over the less fortunate. I love logoed t-shirts. I own a minor ocean of them and have great difficulty parting with them. I lust after them. I consider stealing them from friends (I scored one from Chet’s collection, but it didn’t require much trickery). Only one thing could make me happier. More.

Of course that wouldn’t make me happy. Neither would the lottery winnings or trophy bride my mother ordered for me. To be happy I’d have to get to a higher plain. Think more and worry less. My life would require some streamlining – a simplification overhaul. Or a quality infusion. I would be most motivated in the company of people who were regularly imagining, planning and pursuing that higher plain. If I could be part of a group with similar goals…

To do that I would need to reduce my responsibilities and curb my capitalist consumption. I think I’d have to move into a shack. But not a rickety one, I want more than that.