The Heart of Beijing

The 'I Will Not Complain' company, at that time, were focussed on leading expeditions as well as building teams for primarily multinational clients. It was a fabulous time of my life, and a real adventure, and I remember the experience with great fondness. Employees, expeditioners, clients, colleagues and fellow adventurers were encouraged to sign not only an indemnity form, but also one which said : “I Will Not Complain”.
It proved to be a wonderful set of ground rules, maybe even values which quelled a lot of possible negativity in what were sometimes testing conditions. So if the horses were uncomfortable, which they were – I will not complain. If the water was not hot, which it sometimes wasn’t out in the Mongolian plains – I will not complain. If the food was a little exotic – I will not complain, and if the Public facilities were putrid, and public, I will not complain! On this account I was either retching or holding my breath, so I didn’t have the energy to complain!
Of course one could make suggestions, and it was widely encouraged to make the journey more practical, comfortable and fun, but not if it was attempted through complaints – rather through innovation and humour.

Throughout my life since then I have often reflected on this philosophy, and I have wondered at how much more we might achieve if we took the energy out of complaining and planted it into action. Passive to active. Negative to Positive.

No more so has this come alive for me than in the 2008 Olympic Games. No doubt the city of Beijing is unrecognisable from twelve years ago, but I have found myself back there as a global spectator – just one of a few billion others, marvelling at the boundaries of human physicality being bent and broken. I remember as a kid idolising a picture of Mark Spitz almost strangled by seven gold medallions from his successes in ’72. My kids will look with the same awe and wonder at Michael Phelps. Carl Lewis has been replaced by Usain Bolt, and there are a multitude of other images which flash through my mind as to the greatness of these games. But sadly, as a South African, I have to cling to the solitary silver medal won by our long jumper Khotso Mokoena. As a country with so much potential, that is nothing short of dismal.

No, for me the real Olympics followed shortly after the so called main event. The Parallel Olympics was the real triumph of the human spirit. A testimony to facing up to incredible odds, and not only overcoming, but also overwhelming the admiring masses. Thirty medals, twenty one of them being Gold were earned not through superior physicality, but through pure heart. They made our able bodied team look disabled, and showed up a rank amateurism in so called professional administration and athletics. There were no obvious complaints about the quality of the air, the starting times of the races, the accommodation, the treatment of the precious few, and if there were, there was a resolve to once again beat the odds that was sadly lacking from our elite. Just one heart from any one of our Para Olympians, transplanted into even an administrator would have yielded a far better outcome.

The real heroes will arrive home, after the closing of a truly spectacular event, during which the champagne of celebration should flow in equal quantities to the tears of joy. And of Pride. What a welcome you will receive when you return. You brought back much gold, and an even bigger haul of Pride. You did not complain, and despite every limb stretching, torso twisting movement we have witnessed in the last few weeks, you have shown us that the real heart of Beijing beats in your hearts, and it beats with unbridled passion.

To finish sixth in the world is simply outstanding.
You have done it with your hearts, and in so doing you have captured ours. And that is Golden.