Impressions from CIA school, Kenema

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A personal account from the CIA school

This is the annual report submitted by the CIA school:

UPDATE ON THE SCHOOL –April 2015-April 2016


Community Initiative Academy started as a community concern expressed by 80% of parents in the Nyandeyama Community on the following grounds:

  • The growing number of primary schools and JSS Pupils within the locality
  • To rid these children from the long distances they cover to attend secondary schools outside the community, and the flooding of streams at crossing points between Nyandeyama and the Kenema City.
  • Above all, to reduce the burden of overhead transport costs on parents, as well as the risk of road accidents to which pupils were exposed.

ACTIVITIES: The inaugural meeting for the establishment of the school was held by the founding members and key stakeholders of the Nyandeyama community on the 7th April 2010; the founding members include:

  1. Chief Benson A. Suwu
  2. Eddie Moigua Senesie
  3. Abdul K. Kalifa
  4. Issa Roberts
  5. Fatu Jayah
  6. Abdul K. Sesay
  7. Margaret A-K Suwu
  8. Susan Dugba
  9. Fatmata Suwu
  10. Baindu Koroma
  11. Bob-Joe Sandy

Community Stakeholders include:

  1. Chief Aloysius Vandy Suwu
  2. Alhaji Bockarie Karimu
  3. Chief Momoh Thorlie
  4. Alhaji Suliaman Bah
  5. F K Mansaray ( late)
  6. Alhaji A S. Gbla
  7. Francis Koroma

The foundation for the Three-classroom block was laid on the 8th May 2010, with funds raised from contributions made by founding members.

The structure was raised to wall height and roofed in August 2010 with funds from the proprietor and donations from appeal letters sent to community stakeholders.  Initial fund for the fourth classroom was donated by Hon. P. C Madam Mamie G. Gamanga (Le 1,000,000.00). This four-classroom structure was used for classes in it unfinished state for three years.

The payment of stipend for teachers and finishing of the school building remained a huge challenge for the school Management.

The Management of the school continued to send out appeal letters to various organisations and individuals. It was such a letter that was responded to by Noemi Schramm.

They have raised support among friends and family in Switzerland and have subsequently been able to support the payment of stipend to 12 teachers in the school since May 2015 to date. They also funded the finishing of the four-classroom building in April 2015 and supported the one-side facing of the school compound and fixing of the gate at the entrance in 2016.

The generous donors from Switzerland also made a special donation of one million Leones towards the excellent performance of pupils at the 2014 BECE National exams.

In cooperation with Noemi, we have also sent in an application for school Library to African Library Project of Rise Network.

The Section Chief has promised to provide additional land space for the construction of the Library.  Several other stakeholders have given their support to the development of the school. Skilled personnel like masons, carpenters, painters and plumbers have rendered their services. Community youths have also provided unskilled labour.

Parents, through their PTA organisations have supported the school in their own way.

The Section Chief has promised the people of Nyandeyama, the provision of quality Education for the children in his community. (I will continue to lobby for support he lamented)

The teachers remain committed to teaching as a result of the payment of stipends. They are still awaiting Government recruitment / approval for payment of salaries. It is yet too frustrating for teachers who have taught for six years without Government approval. Had it not been the support from our good friends, we wonder what would have been the situation. We just say thank you.

There had also being a steady increase in the enrolment of pupils in the school. This could be looked at as achievement, but the other side is the need for expansion; additional classrooms, more furniture and more teachers.

The National exam (BECE) is coming up in July for this year. It is the fourth set of pupils for the exam and with the highest number of pupils. This means more efforts on the side of the teachers, which also demands adequate incentives.

However, amidst all of these there is great hope ahead.

Faithfully submitted

Margaret Suwu


Madam Suwu and Chief Suwu

The brain behind the CIA: Madam Suwu

Street stories from the Lion Mountains

Life in Sierra Leone happens on the street, and you will never feel lonely outside. I love the buzzing, the chitchatting, the smells of smoke, fuel, food, sweat and perfume all mixed up, and the random pickup lines you hear (some of my recent favourites: “Today is International Women’s Day, I need an international date. Can I take you out?” or “I like you. You like me. Let’s go out.” or “Can I have your number? Don’t worry, I am diaspora Sierra Leonean, I will not bother you much.” or “You enjoy life too much, you need to start sharing that enjoyment. I am ready to enjoy with you, baby.”). I recently started collecting short movies of street scenes, as I think streets give you the best impression of life here in Salone – and there is so much great people watching to do! Here are some written stories.
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Life happens on the street – downtown Freetown

As you might be aware, I enjoy celebrating birthdays (remember story email no 11…), preferably different every year. This time the theme was “on the STREETS” and we started with a sunset drink on the STREET at the beach, went on to have dinner in a Senegalese STREET restaurant, where the space was too small to fit us all, we shared chairs and I ended up standing half on the STREET to give my birthday speech. We then went on to the trade fair which was happening on the STREET around the national stadium. To enter, you buy a ticket, which is then again taken away from you two meters ahead, ripped apart and thrown on the ground. Why even bother printing those tickets, if their lifetime is about 1 minute before ending up on the STREET?! But you can imagine, it was fitting for my birthday theme ;).

THANK YOU JESUS – for nice roads?!

Since I still do not have my car back from my mechanic who had an accident with it (a different story that fills a whole email in itself), I keep using Okadas, motorbikes, imported from India, produced as cheaply as possible so that it is affordable in developing countries, but that also means that breaks fail regularly, gears sometimes get stuck and mirrors get lost all the time. Before my okada rider goes down a hill, I normally ask about their breaks quickly, just to be sure, because it has happened before that the breaks were actually broken. A very nerve-racking experience, going down hill with broken breaks.
My personal bike rider is called Kapry, he is the vice-chairman of the local okada bike rider association and he is very content with his life, which is a nice change to the usual “ah this is bad in my life and this is not working andandand”. He also is the man who never smiles, not even when I ask him to: “why should I smile, you don’t think I look fine without smiling?”. Kapry is THE one most punctual Sierra Leonean I have met, he would call me if I am 30 seconds late and he insists on doing phone-time-checks, making sure our phones show the same time, so that we both are on time for pickups. I have got a really bad reputation with him for being notoriously late, making me feel more African than he is.
On our last bike ride, he told me about his oldest brother, who went missing two weeks ago. He just left the house “quickly” and never came back, leaving his wife and two children in total agony about his whereabouts. Kapry has checked all police stations and hospitals in the area and spent yesterday at the mortuary, looking at dead bodies for hours. He shouts over to me all this information through his helmet and through my helmet, while speeding on through evening traffic, making us nearly hit a breadseller on the street, cruising on the pedestrian way around a big truck blocking the road, telling me about how his brother’s wife is having mental issues now and how he is ready to give up on his brother, just keep on living. Life is happening and being processed on the street, the good side of life and the bad one.
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Kapry on his okada – motorbike

And I know that the streets in your countries are much more likely to be rather empty, so you might enjoy this insight.

Thank you!

Thank you, dear supporters and readers! You have given USD 8240 to support the CIA school in Kenema and the Ruth Vines school in Freetown, you have visited this blog 1900 times and you are coming from 54 countries! We are blessed to know you as our followers and supporters 🙂

May your new year be a happy one and may we see more generous people like you in this world!

Courageous Ätti

The Swiss in me wants to apologise in advance for what I am about to write, but thankfully the non-Swiss in me is shouting the apologetic Noemi powerfully down.

Ätti, my grandfather, died this month 78 years old. In Sierra Leone people tell me that this is a very old age and it is a miracle that he lived that long. In Switzerland people look at me with a sorry face and ask if he had a special sickness or why he died so relatively young.


In Sierra Leone, it is seen as a miracle if someone goes into medical care and survives. Everything is done for the patient, where “everything” can mean some painkillers and lots of prayers. In Switzerland, you have to make an active decision to stop the hospitals and doctors to keep you alive – where “alive” can mean hanging on a drip and on thousand electric machines. My grandfather was tired of the drips and the medicines and the doctors, not necessarily of life. Ätti has been living a very down to earth life. He was an honest and hard worker, didn’t live beyond his needs and enjoyed what has been given him. He produced the *hands down* best honey on earth, had a critical mind and a very impressive nearly 60-year long marriage with Müetti. Learning how to deal with his own death was not part of his life curriculum, however, in the end he had the courage to refuse all medical treatment, despite the fear of the unknown nature of death.

Courage is needed in Switzerland to refuse medical treatment, courage is needed in Sierra Leone to accept medical treatment. As written some weeks ago in my latest post (, health care is so bad, that every treatment, every surgery has the potential to kill a patient. It is like russian roulette – you never know which treatment might be your bullet. Yes, this is not the nicest Christmas message, but a very necessary one – and I do think, it is urgent enough to be listened to at any time of the year. The inequalities in this world are crying out to heaven for a response – be it in health care, living conditions or opportunities. Balancing out inequalities does not only mean that we need to get rid of poverty in this world, but also that we, the rich 5% (yes, Switzerland belongs to those), need to share more. We are too rich and others are too poor. Think about it.

And Ätti: may you rest in peace. We miss you!

Ueberlebens-geschichten von den Loewen-Bergen

“ueberleben” hat eine ganz andere Bedeutung in einem Land, wo Leute taeglich und urploetzlich sterben, die Lebenserwartung halb so hoch ist wie in Europa und unbekannte Gefahren lauern in jeder Moskito, hinter jeder Strassenecke und in jedem Tropfen Hahnenwasser. “Ueberleben” hat auch ganz eine andere Bedeutung am Arbeitsplatz, wo es kein funktionierendes System gibt, man taeglich auf Eierschalen laeuft im Versuch die Interessen des Chefs, der Bevoelkerung und meine eigenen zu balancieren, wo es keine Elektrizitaet, ultralangsames Internet und keine Toilettenspuelung gibt, und wenn es regnet, dann ueberflutet dein Buero. Meine Schwester hat mir gesagt, sie hat den Eindruck dass mein Leben hier voller nie-endenden Dramen ist. Das stimmt, aber hat auch dazu gefuehrt, dass ich mittlerweile, nach zwei Jahren eine Ueberlebensexpertin bin. Ich arbeite nun am naechsten Schritt: nicht nur ueberleben, sondern auch aufzubluehen im mitten des Chaos!
Hier ein paar meiner unzaehligen Geschichten zum Ueberleben in Sierra Leone.


Einer meiner ausgefallensten Freundinnen hier ist Theresa. Sie ist eine Sierra Leonerin in den Vierzigern und fuehrt ihren kleinen Laden direkt an der Hauptstrasse, in meiner Nachbarschaft. Ich gehen oft vorbei und sitze auf der Strasse, trinke ein lauwarmes Bier oder Wasser und diskutier mit ihr Gott, Liebe und die Welt. Eines warmen Samstagnachmittags, wir diskutieren gerade die Eifersucht von Sierra Leoner, als ich den Drang verspuehre, mich zu erleichtern. Ich frage Theresa nach der Toilette, worauf sie mich grinsend hinter den Laden fuehrt und jeden informiert, dass Naomi sich erleichtern muss (das haette mich wirklich warnen sollen). Hinter dem Laden sitzen zehn Frauen bei einer halb-offenen Tuere, die mich ebenfalls grinsend begruessen – eine weisse Frau die hier pissen muss, das ist eine kleine Sensation. Theresa zeigt zur halb-offenen Tuere und sagt mir, ich kann dahinter gehen. Hinter der Tuere ist absolut NICHTS – kein Dach, keine Toilette, kein fliessendes Wasser (geschweige denn Toilettenpapier), kein Loch, keine grafische Darstellung, die mir zeigen wuerde wie und wo ich pissen soll und auch kein Sichtschutz zur Hauptstrasse. Waehrenddem ich mich zu orientieren versuche, und jegliche Gedanken an vorherige Besucher dieser “Toilette” ausblende, Theresa kommt hinein und hockt neben mir. Wenigstens trage ich einen Rock, was es etwas einfacher macht und etwas Sichtschutz bietet und Theresa beginnt mir zu sagen, ich soll “pissen, pissen”, einfach nur “piss! Piss”. In ihrem Gesicht sehe ich sichtbaren Stolz, dass sie mit einer weissen Frau zusammen pisst –  wahrscheinlich das erste mal fuer sie (und auch das letzte mal…). Und ja, fragt erst gar nicht nach Haende waschen oder so! 😉

Die traurige Seite der Geschichte ist, dass die Mehrheit von Sierra Leone in aehnlichen sanitaeren Umstaenden lebt. Kein Wunder sind Krankheiten wie Durchfall, Cholera und Ebola allgegenwaertig.


Eines Morgens schlief mir ploetzlich mein linker Arm ein. Es wurde etwas besser und dann wieder schlechter, aber ich dachte mir nicht viel dabei. Etwas spaeter ass ich zu Mittag mit einer Freundin, als mir auf einmal auch der rechte Arm, dann beide Fuesse und schlussendlich auch mein Gesicht, inklusive Lippen einschliefen. Ich bin ein grosser Fan von Dr Google und Selbstbehandlung (gerade in Sierra Leone aeussersts hilfreich, zumindest normalerweise) und google daher meine Symptome. Das erste Ergebnis, das auftaucht ist SCHLAGANFALL. Ich google weiter um herauszufinden, ob ich ueberhaupt einen Schlaganfall haben kann in meinem Alter – und natuerlich, es
gibt dutzende von Geschichten von Schlaganfaellen bei jungen Erwachsenen. Meine Freundin und ich sind mittlerweile nahe einer Panik und gehen sofort zum Arzt, der gluecklicherweise gerade auf der anderen Strassenseite ist. Beim Arzt beginne ich zu hyperventilieren und werde schliesslich ohnmaechtig. Der Doktor gibt mir eine Spritze
in meinen Hintern um mich wieder zu den Lebenden zu bringen und macht die notwendigen Tests. Nach einer Weile ist klar, ich habe “nur” Malaria – ich glaube, der Doktor hat noch nie jemanden so gluecklich gesehen mit einer Malaria Diagnose! Alles besser als einen Schlaganfall 😉


Ich war am Auto fahren und wollte einen Freund kurz absetzen. Verkehrsregeln existieren in Sierra Leone, aber werden eher auf einer zufaelligen Fall-zu-Fall basis umgesetzt. Ich dachte mir daher nicht viel dabei, als ich in einem Kreisel (es war ein grosser Kreisel, zu meiner Verteidigung) anhielt und meinen Freund rausspringen liess.
Dummerweise hielt ich DIREKT VOR einer Polizeistation. Der Polizist war mehr als gluecklich, mich wegen Verletzung von Verkehrsregeln fest zunehmen und zur Polizeistation zu begleiten um meine Aussage aufzunehmen. Es war so unglaublich heiss in der Polizeistation, dass ich kaum klar denken kann. Meine Aussage wird aufgenommen waehrenddem ich schweisstropfend auf der Holzbank sitze und von allen angestarrt werde. Ich bin immer noch am ueberlegen, wie ich am besten aus dieser Situation (und diesem heissen Raum) herauskomme, als ein Offizier kommt und mich fragt: “So, Madam, sollen wir Sie vors Gericht zitieren oder bitten Sie um Gnade?” Ich verstehe nicht ganz und er wiederholt: “Sollen wir Sie vors Gericht zitieren oder bitten Sie um Gnade?” Ich verstehe die Logik dahinter nicht ganz und finde, das ist nicht wirklich eine Wahl, aber sage schlussendlich, ich bitte um Gnade. Seine Antwort: “Gnade erteilt, ich wuensche Ihnen einen schoenen Tag, geehrte Frau!” Schnelles Urteil, unglaubliche Gnade! 🙂 ich gehe spaeter vorbei mit einem kleinen Ventilator als Dankeschoen und damit zukuenftige Verbrecher nicht so schwitzen muessen wie ich.

Survival-stories from the Lion Mountains

Dear readers,

“survival” has a whole other meaning in a country where people die randomly and all the time, life expectancy is half of what it is in Europe and there are unknown dangers waiting in every mosquito, behind every corner and in every drop of water. It also literally has a whole other meaning if you want to survive in your work place, where there is no functioning system, you are walking on eggshells everyday trying to juggle your bosses’ interests, your own and what you think the people’s interests are and there is no electricity, super slow internet, the toilet is not flushing and when it rains, your office gets flooded. My sister told me, she has the impression that the dramas in my life here are never-ending. However – living in this environment for two years now, I became an expert in surviving and I am now trying to reach the next level: thriving on top of surviving. Enjoy some of my countless survival stories!


Theresa is one of my quirkiest friends here. She is a forty-something woman who runs her own small shop, right on the main road and close to my house. I often stop by and chat a bit, drink a lukewarm beer or cider and we chat about God, love and the world. One day and probably one too many drinks, I had to pee urgently and asked her to show me the bathroom. She started grinning (this should have been my first warning sign) and led me away from the shop, telling everyone “Naomi has to ease herself”. You can imagine how red my head turned. She leads me behind the shop somewhere with a half open door and about ten women sitting in front of the door, who obviously all were informed about the white woman who needs to pee. Theresa shuffles me through the door and tells me to piss there. I am lost – behind the door, there is NOTHING. No roof, no toilet, certainly no running water (not even thinking about toilet paper), no sign on where to pee, no hole and also no protection of sight from the main road. While I am trying to orientate myself and not too think too much about how many people might have eased themselves right where I was standing, Theresa comes and JOINS ME. So I am squatting there trying to avoid the main street (so thankful that I was wearing a skirt that day) with Theresa next to me who keeps telling me to “Piss piss”, “piss piss” and being obviously proud that she is pissing together with a white woman. Oh Salone. And yes, do not even ask me about hand washing facilities…

The sad thing about this story is that the sanitary situation of the majority of Sierra Leone is actually exactly like this: non-existent. No wonder diseases like diarrhoea, Cholera and Ebola are thriving.

One morning, my left arm suddenly went numb. It got better and worse again, but I went about my normal business. I was having lunch with a friend when my right arm also got numb, then my feet fell asleep and finally my face and my lips – I didn’t feel the food anymore and had problems talking. Me being a fan of Dr Google and self- treatment, got into high panic when the first diagnosis that came up upon googling my
symptoms was STROKE. I went on to google if I could even have a stroke at my age and came across hundreds of stories of young people unexpectantly having suffered strokes. By that time both me and my friend were close to freaking out and went to see the Doctor, who luckily was just across the street. While they are taking my medical history (a must, especially in times of Ebola), I start hyperventilating and finally faint – all the drama. After an injection in the butt to get me going again and all the medical tests, the Doctor tells me I am having Malaria and he probably hasn’t seen anyone being so happy about having Malaria – at least it wasn’t a stroke!


I was driving a friend’s car and dropping off someone. Traffic rules in Sierra Leone exist, but are implemented on a more case-by-case basis. I therefore didn’t think a lot, when I stopped in a roundabout (it was a big one, to my defence) and let my friend jump out. Stupidly enough, I did this RIGHT IN FRONT of a police station. The police officer was more than happy to charge me with violation of traffic rules, guide me to the station, let me park my car and have me go inside to give my statement. Inside the police station, it was SO incredibly hot, that I have problems thinking clearly. I give my statement while dropping with sweat and keep thinking about how to get out of this situation (and the hot room). At the end, an officer comes up to me and asks me: “So, Madame, shall we take you to court or do you plead for mercy?” I was confused and he repeated his question: “Shall we take you to court or do you plead for mercy?” I thought that is not really a choice, so said I would rather plead for mercy. His response “Mercy granted, have a nice day, mylady!” Quick justice, amazing grace!
I went back later with a small fan to say thanks and let them cool down the room for any other criminals.

When it is not possible to be ready to die

“People die here everyday, randomly and without good explanations.” I say this sentence in every longer conversation I have about Sierra Leone. It was always something very much matter of fact to me, just another statistic that I have saved in my head among the other key health indicators: maternal mortality 1165 per 100,000 live births, infant mortality 92 out of 1000, average life expectancy 48 years, GDP per capita 1500 USD per year, poverty rate 52%, 35% of pregnant women are teenagers, literacy rate among women 25%, ranking in the human development index: among the last 10 countries in this world. I am so used to these statistics, it doesn’t really move anything anymore in my mind, just some thoughts on how they were measured and if the right statistical approach was used. They are all screaming out that something is terribly wrong in Sierra Leone, that life years are wasted, families regularly hit with disaster and confronted with sickness and death.

I was never someone who was moved a lot by death. For me, the time of my and every one else’s death does not lay in our hands and is out of our control. I believe that we have a life after death and that death is just another milestone in this universal existence. In highschool, the best essay I wrote was titled “The aim of life is to be ready to die” and I lived according to it. The aim of life is to be ready to die. When it was someone’s time to reach that milestone, I normally thought that it was more or less justified and that life for us continues. Grandparents die after a long life, last stage cancer patients die after long treatment, only in rare cases are there exceptional deaths. My grandfather is receiving palliative care after few years of heavy medical interventions that kept him alive, including a bypass heart surgery ten years ago. His body has long been ready to die, but modern medicine wasn’t allowing this, giving his soul time to reach the point where he is ready to die. You do not get that time in Sierra Leone. There is no modern medicine, there is no working health system with heavy medical interventions and bypass heart surgery. You can be lucky if the clinic you are consulting with your pains has a qualified nurse who happens to be around and some painkillers in the shelf who are not expired or stocks just happened to have run out.

I was never someone who was moved a lot by death. I realised that people attend funerals regularly here in Sierra Leone, I realised that people tend to die younger than what I know from Switzerland. However, when one of the uncles of my closest friend died of Ebola or when the father of my night guard suddenly had to be rushed to hospital, dying of unknown causes and making my strong young guard crying out loud, I didn’t feel a lot. I didn’t feel a lot when the father of one of my best friends here died and avoided going to the funeral (it was Ebola times, after all, is what I told myself). I didn’t feel a lot when people kept commenting on the fact how lucky I was to still have both of my parents alive (why should they be dead, they are only in their fifties anyway?!). I just had my wake up call, literally. I woke up at 4am this morning to a text message from Kapry, saying that his sister in law has passed away. She was the wife of Lansana, whom I know well, the mother of an 18 month old girl who likes to dance to Nigerian music and she was my age. She was not ready to die and she shouldn’t have. Sierra Leone let her down and Sierra Leone also let the other 3500 women down who died during the last year in childbirth of preventable causes. Sierra Leone also let the 25,000 children down who die every year before they reach their 5th birthday. We let the 4000 people down who died because of Ebola, but a similar epidemic (even worse – as it is endemic) is happening in Sierra Leone in the front of all our eyes, written in all statistics. People are dying here all the time, randomly and without good explanations. And they are not given the time to be ready to die, they have not lived their life to the fullest of their possibilities, they have not had time to accept their fatal illness or had time to note down how they would like their funeral to happen. Sometimes, it is not possible to be ready to die – and it is up to us to change that, for everyone, especially in Sierra Leone.

I apologise for my ignorance so far. I apologise that it took me two years of living here to be shocked at a message of death. I apologise to all Sierra Leoneans and Africans for not giving you the time to be ready to die. Rest in peace, Madame Marie Kabbah, and thank you for waking me up from my ignorance. Let us hope and pray that your daughter will reach her 5th birthday and live way beyond that, enough long to be ready to follow you to where you are now.

Expanding | Mehr!

Thanks to a generous donation, the CIA school can expand their structures. Five different plans are discussed right now:

  1. School library
  2. Additional classrooms
  3. Staff room
  4. Home Economic center
  5. Concrete fence around the school to ensure security

Do you have an opinion on what would make sense? Let us know 🙂

Dank einer grosszuegigen Spende aus der Schweiz kann die CIA Schule expandieren. Verschiedene Projekte werden momentan diskutiert:

  1. Eine Bibliothek
  2. Mehr Schulzimmer
  3. Ein Lehrerzimmer
  4. Ein Hauswirtschaftszentrum
  5. Sicherheitszzaun um die Schule

Habt ihr Ideen oder eine Meinung dazu? Lasst mich wissen 🙂

Wachet auf, freie Schweizer, wachet auf!

Liebe Schweizerinnen und Schweizer,

Ein Leben ohne Leidenschaft ist nur eine leere Huelle. 

In meinen Ferien in der Schweiz wurde meine Leidenschaft fuer die Schweizer Politik wieder geweckt – wir leben in so einer spannenden Zeit, wo Aengste ueberhand nehmen, elitaere Gruppierungen brainwashing machen und die Komplexitaet der Probleme dazu fuehrt, dass viele Personen einfach sich ausklinken aus den Diskussionen und aus dem Leben. Das Leben ist um einiges einfacher und ueberschaubarer wenn ich mich nur um das Ablaufdatum der Milch im Kuehlschrank kuemmern muss und nicht um die Asylanten im naechsten Dorf. Aber wart mal – lass mich das nochmals formulieren: Das Leben ist um einiges einfacher und ueberschaubarer wenn ich mich nur um das Ablaufdatum der Milch im Kuehlschrank kuemmern muss und nicht um die Mitmenschen im naechsten Dorf.

Got it? Geschnallt? Wer hat sich ausgesucht, in der Schweiz geboren zu werden? Wer hat Sierra Leone gewaehlt? Wer Syrien?  Ich zumindest habe nicht gewaehlt – ich wurde einfach so privilegiert, weil ich im 1988 am ersten Schneetag im Jahr im Aargau geboren wurde. Wir haben ein Geburtsprivileg, dass uns dazu befaehigt, anderen weiter zu geben und zu teilen. Die Schweiz bietet uns politische Mitspracherechte, die absolut aussergewoehnlich sind. Wir schulden es unseren Mitmenschen in Syrien, Lybien und Tschad, dieses Recht wahr zu nehmen und die Schweiz verantwortungsvoll mitzufuehren. Lass uns eine offene und warmherzige Schweiz sein, die weniger privilegierte Menschen aufnimmt und von unserem Grundschatz abgibt. Wir wollen mehr sein als einfach nur ein reiches Land, wir wollen reich sein an Mitgefuehl, Grosszuegigkeit und Akzeptanz. Wir wollen eine Schweiz, die wach ist und am Geschehen der Welt mitfuehlt und Teil der Loesung ist. Wir wollen eine Schweiz sein, die sich auf ihre humanitaeren Wurzeln stuetzt, die Arme ernaehrt, die Waisen schuetzt und Obdachlose aufnimmt.

Wir wollen freie Schweizer sein: frei von Vorurteilen, frei von Fremdenhass, frei von Aengstemachern. Wachet auf, freie Schweizer, wachet auf!

Das ist meine Leidenschaft. Was ist deine?