For example, since 1994, my cathartic experience at The Hague International Model United Nations (THIMUN) showed me how very important the UN is to me. I became very glib and certain about the fact hat the United Nations could save the world - to an extent I still do - but remain unsure whether the passionate power of the of the cynics is sufficiently strong to sustain what some might regard as a quixotic belief.

Secondly, having visited my home country of Ghana (West Africa) for the third time in three years just recently, I have become disillusioned by the idea that the gap between the West and the Third World can never be bridged. Nor can racism ever be eradicated, for it is far too embedded and imprinted in the minds of men.

This attitude comes in the wake of the controversial selection of Germany over South Africa last summer to host the World Cup in 2004. In what was tipped to be South Africa's golden moment of glory, the palpable excitement of the atmosphere turned from eager expectation to devastating dourness. I was in Ghana with my family at the time, and everything indicated, from what we had heard on the BBC Focus on Africa programme, that South Africa would win. The news that the neck-to-neck race had resulted in a German victory for once made even the characteristically objective BBC journalists make allusions to the effect that the reason for the last minute indecision was more "sinister" than anyone can care to imagine. Yet, a few years prior, I could have bet my bottom dollar that the problems between the rich and the poor would be ultimately resolved with patience and time.

That said, I know that deep down, and with my individual output as well, that change ought to be possible. However, it appears that my perception of the spirit of our times suggests the contrary. I also feel that the idealism inherent in NGOs and other Southern-based agencies is nothing more than it has always been - elusive, idealistic, and too slow. But my hypocrisy doesn't stop there.

In fact, so hypocritical have I become that although I am willing and ready to empathize with the prisoner of conscience when the Actions Urgentes letters from Amnesty International come through my letterbox or my email, I feel compelled only briefly to open, read, then discard the letter somewhere at the bottom of my bag.

This prompts me to question whether this paradox of principles is a personal one, or yet, a more sinister aspect of each of our dark side? How we love to criticize, pontificate and point the finger, but could we truly pass the litmus test if, for example, we were asked to sacrifice our lives for our deepest beliefs? A 27-yr-old Englishman by the name of James Maudsley did. He also had a dream. Yet, last year, he was sentenced to a 17-yr-prison term for protesting against the military junta in Burma. Curiously, despite the fact that he had been warned off the previous year, and told of the consequences in the event that he returned to the country, he courageously persisted.

How many of us hold that courage of conviction? I know I certainly could not, and I am not overly foolish to assume that everyone would act in the same way, but admittedly, such self-sacrifice, predicated on faith, is exemplary. What British author Vivian Brooks called the "quiet power of self-sacrifice, the hope-giving act of laying your life for a brother, whatever race, creed, or culture", may perhaps be regarded by some as the highest form of idealism in this secular and dog-eat-dog world. For others, however, it may hold the key to our ultimate purpose here on Earth.

However, without dreams or ideals, where would we be? Would we be reduced to "dream{ing} in metaphors, trying to hold onto something we couldn't understand"?, as the pop artist, Seal, sang? Alternatively, should we consider ourselves perpetual armchair strategists merely because the "spirit is willing, but the flesh {is} weak"?

Perhaps the man whom we best know for publicly declaring he had a dream was Martin Luther King. The night before his assassination in 1968, the Civil Rights Leader intoned in a very passionate speech that he may not "get there", but he's "seen the Promised Land." In retrospect, although his words served to presage his untimely death, one can surmise as a result of his exemplary application of non-violent protest that he reached the Promised Land all right, but what about you and me?

Students at Vesalius College like to think they are going places - and many are, but along the way will they remember those guardians standing at the gate of their Promised Land, which have "taken some curse upon themselves for the happiness of mankind" ? Will they be up to the challenge to remember those guardians? Will you be?

© Emmanuel.K.Bensah, 2000 writing as...