Sideways News

There's a world outside your window, and it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time.
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life
Where nothing ever grows No rain or rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?

As you'll no doubt know, these are the lyrics of "Do they know it's Christmas?", the No.1 song recorded in 1984 by Band Aid. A super-group of recording artists, founded by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure to raise money for the Ethiopian famine.

I heard it a few nights ago, roared out in jolly pub sing-song. They're not very jolly: in fact, they're pretty bleak.

"And tonight thank God it's them instead of you." It's meant as a healthy tug on the heart strings, but outside of a smart chelsea pub it sounded a little bit like a celebration. I don't mean to be cynical, but it seemed ironic.

Yet, the success of Band Aid's record was phenomenal. The song went straight to No.1 in the singles chart, outselling all the other records in the chart put together. It became the fastest-selling single of all time in the UK, selling a million copies in the first week alone. It stayed at No.1 for five weeks, selling over three million copies and becoming the biggest-selling single of all time in the UK. Millions of pounds were raised in the form of emergency aid for Ethiopia. And the media spotlight was well and truly on Africa.

So the lyrics, if you think about them, are thought provoking - "It's a world of dread and fear. Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears" - but what sent the song to No.1 was the celebrity voices that sung it. Geldof gathered the top music totty of the time: Sting, Spandau Ballet, Phil Collins. And the concept caught the public's imagination, along with opening people's eyes to a desperate situation.

So although we might sing along now, a few years later, not meaning a word we say - I'm not sure it really matters. Band Aid began a wave of using celebrity voices for good - of gathering aid in a way that people related to. The record was just the tool.

I'm writing from a very smart, cool and quiet hotel in central Cape Town. Yesterday, I stood sweating in a white hot sun, swatting flies and chatting to glue addicts. The hotel is for the free wi-fi, with an over-priced coffee stretched out over several hours to justify my shoeless presence. Going from extreme poverty to luxury in the space of a few hours has got me thinking. 

The vestiges of South Africa's apartheid make segregation obvious. The townships - very poor, very dilapidated, very stagnant, in a cycle of violence, drugs, despair and prostitution - are both physically separated from (and a stark contrast to) the buzzing, metropolitan, wealthy heart of Cape Town. It seems to be one or the other. Dictated by society, politics, race, history and money.

A friend of mine is involved in both: working in a township with addicts and spending time with friends in the city. He finds it incredibly hard. Physically, practically, materialistically it's two different extremes. But emotionally it's difficult to not go numb to one or the other, or to feel resentful, judgmental or angry. 

It's heart-stretching. But is that a bad thing? I don't for a second mean that we should go and observe a situation different to our own, as we would a painting. But when we see poverty or depravity and then try to reconcile it with the opportunities we have, it makes us uncomfortable. It stretches us: that's how I describe it. But a stretched heart is surely one that is more aware, more able to feel, empathise and act. 

We don't need to visit Africa or the developing world to witness lifestyles and situations very different from our own. We just need to watch the news, read a newspaper or, sometimes, step out of the front door. 

The Borough of Westminster, for instance (one of the richest in London) also has the highest percentage of homeless people. Child poverty in Britain is very real. According to Save the Children, 1.4 million UK children live in severe and consistent poverty. Gang cultures, drugs, prostitution and violence exist - they're more prevalent than we often accept.

Britain is segregated too. The gap between rich and poor remains. Do we ignore it or stand in it?

The major papers are running their Christmas charity appeals. Last year the Times raised over £600,000 for its chosen causes. A huge amount in the midst of the credit crunch. Maybe it's the Christmas excess-induced pang of guilt that has readers responding, or perhaps it's simply coverage. Or is it about stories?

One of the Telegraph's four chosen causes is BLESMA, the British Limbless Ex-Service Men's Assocation, working with men and women who have lost limbs fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq. It's a very important, very worthy cause. But what struck me was the story accompanying the appeal.

Christina Schmid, widow of army bomb disposal expert, Olaf Schmid, who was killed on his last day in Afghanistan, speaking about her grief and loss. She's incredibly brave and honest - openly describing her marriage, her love for her husband and her determination to keep showing support and solidarity to the British troops. Highlighting their bravery, not condemning war.

"Oz said if anything happened to him I was to go for it," she said. "He wanted me to find the energy to speak candidly about how important it is to raise the game, to talk about IEDs and about the triple amputees coming back. The fatalities are horrendous and they ripple through families. I speak because I must harness the moment."

She describes her husband and others "as the new faces of war". Her story is real. That's what I responded to. The cause becomes real too. I think we need to know the individual stories to understand the reality. It's faces and names that initate response, not facts.

The Sunday Times, raising money to fund the treatment of children injured in Iraq in a Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) run ward in Amman, tells the story of four year old Hussein, horifically burnt in a car bomb outside of Baghdad.

"There are believed to be more than 8,000 children like Hussein who have been severely injured in the conflict in Iraq, and the bombing continues," writes Sunday Times correspondant, Haler Jaber.

Thousands of other cases, yet we pick one - because otherwise it's just numbers. They're horrific, but I'm not sure we can absorb them all.

“To understand my life, I must tell you a story,” wrote novelist Virginia Woolf. Stories are part of our social makeup: we tell our own, we ask people to tell us theirs. It's how we relate. They're part of life. So it makes sense that an individual's story is what we respond to.

SIDEWAYS News for fresh perspectives

I love having a rant. About the news, about injustice. But does it lead to anything?

A friend of mine went to South Africa three years ago and helped with a project in the Cape Flats. He saw children as young as 10 addicted to glue. He saw gangs waging war against opposing gangs. He saw violence and he saw injustice.

He ranted about what he saw for a year. Then he did something. He went out there and started a charity, Project Capetown. He works with Ambassadors in Sport - playing football and building friendships, attempting to intervene in an endless cycle of violence that leads to addiction, prostitution and imprisonment. He's 23.

It might be an extreme example but it made me think about how we respond. We can't all give up jobs, homes, hop on the plane... disappearing indefinitely. But when we read or hear about something we think is unjust, do we do anything? What can we do?

Ranting is probably a good start. It shows we care, it's not numbness. And then what? It's a case of starting small, of letting your heart get involved with whatever it is you felt strongly about. Do some research, find out more. Give a one-off donation or consider whether you want to get involved by giving time.

do-it.org makes volunteering easy. Simply enter your postcode to see what's available in your area. The site lists everything from working in a local Oxfam charity shop to helping in a homeless shelter or cooking meals for the elderly.

And if you haven't got time to physically be somewhere, have a look at The Online Volunteering service, managed by the United Nations Volunteers programme, connecting online volunteers with non-governmental organisations (NGOs), UN organisations and academic institutions all over the world.

Online volunteers translate documents, edit or prepare proposals and press releases, research topics, gather data, create web pages, brochures and newsletters. The opportunities are endless: write a funding proposal for a motorbike for an orphan project in Cameroon or research potential partner football organisations for the Youth Press and Development Organisation in Brazil.

Each project has a deadline, lists how many hours you will need to put in, provides contact details for more information and allows for up to 10 volunteers to get involved, so you won't be doing the whole thing by yourself. Certainly food for thought.

Charities. I'm not sure what I think about them. It's not an ideal start for this blog, I'll admit... Or is it?

Charities should make us think. After all, they exist largely because of the world's brokenness, because of poverty, the imbalance of wealth, the divide between rich and poor, environmental concerns, injustice, disease. And because the people behind them care about the cause.

They throw up big, challenging questions, and they bring apathy too.

We're inundated with charities. According to the Charity Commission there are - as of September 2009 - 159,600 registered UK charities.

We're bombarded with images relating to a cause: on public transport, in magazines, newspapers, supermarkets, shop fronts, on TV. We're asked to care, to think, to give money, time, resources.

And in central London, it's not at all unusual to see people staunchly looking the other way or even braving the oncoming traffic to avoid being stopped by a clipboard waving representative from Bernados or the Good Samaritans. I'm one of them.

If we keep on seeing an image of a starving African child, do we get emotion fatigue and do nothing, or do we respond every time? Do we set up a standing order and responsibly give a tenner each month or do we respond every time we get a tug on the heart strings?

Are we cynical or sentimental. Or somewhere in between? This might sound negative. It's not meant to be. These are important questions.

The thing is, we're individuals: different interests, different passions, different talents. Perhaps that's why there are so many different causes. But we've all got hearts. So, if nothing else, I believe we should be thinking. And getting excited. Because there's so much we can do and so much other people have already done. Whether that's a lot or a little.