I have faith in the Outpost youth. They grow up in a materialist but fanaticised, parochial and entrenched society, with little stimulus and with little of note to do (except perhaps some sport), a society that only recently has begun opening up to the possibility of there existing an outside world of any true importance. Still, an impressively large proportion of them escape early marriage, early employment, early procreation and the ensuing sweet lull of building a family home, of buying an unrealistically expensive car and of living life like strangers with a spouse they used to know well, in jobs found for them by the family. Large sections of the Outpost youth has an almost indomitable desire to learn, to create, to contribute — some young individuals are among the most brave, spirited, open-minded and open-hearted people I have known.
They are everywhere: journalists who want to do graduate studies so that they “do not bluff their way through writing, without a solid theoretical foundation”, hard-working students, amateur actors, ingenious and patient diplomats with principles (wow), rocking schoolkids, political activists, playful artists and grave artists — all making a difference.
Most of them have studied abroad or intend to. They leave the Outpost ignorant, fearful of familylessness and of the wide open world, the males subdued by the 26-month-long daily pointlessness of military service, the females on the brink of mental castration. They come back, well, enlightened.
On a less than cheery note, compare this with most Compatrido youths studying abroad: they leave Compatridia omniscient, fearful of the wide open world and oh so ready to rock. They go on to spend their studies (?) lamenting the lack of everything they prize: cheap cigarettes, mum’s cooking, easy ways to cheat, cheap booze all night long, toleration of plagiarism, TV shows and everyone considering them nothing short of brilliant. No need to debate the state they come back in.