It's still the same damn zebra!

We have all experienced this at one time or another. The moment of truth in a troublesome relationship. That pivotal point in time when you look into someone’s eyes or see someone do something in a certain way and you have a sudden, explosive intuitive insight into that person’s character. And, after months, possibly years, of trying to get along, to find common ground, to patch things up, you just know, without a shadow of a doubt, that the relationship is doomed. Doomed, not for lack of trying, but doomed because of irreconcilable differences. You and this particular person had simply never been on the same page, you have opposing priorities, you don’t see the world the same way, there is no common value system. Such a moment of truth is usually quite traumatic, especially if you have spent a lot of time and effort on trying to save the relationship.

The people of South Africa are starting to experience such a moment of truth right now. They are seeing, for the first time, who they have been voting for the last decade and a half. One by one, little by little, we are waking up to the fact that the ANC government is similar – eerily similar, in fact – to the National Party government.

I still remember when we first became disillusioned with the National Party. At first, only a minority of us white Afrikaners saw the truth. But, once the cracks started showing, people left that sinking ship in droves. The Information Scandal, the costly war in Angola, the impossible efforts at social engineering, the corruption, the cover-ups, the bickering around PW Botha’s successor, all these things and many others contributed to the fact that people’s eyes were opened to see that political organisation for what it really was: a top-heavy, bloated, incestuous bunch of hypocritical and racist fat cats.

When FW de Klerk stepped forward with his bright smile, we were ready for a change, even though we knew that the smile covered a deep embarrassment. We knew that De Klerk, smile and all, was, in fact, admitting defeat. He was acting as undertaker for the National Party. And we liked him for it, for it was easier dealing with a friendly undertaker than a belligerent despot. It would have been sheer hell if PW Botha had clung to power the way Muammar Gaddafi is doing now, or the way Robert Mugabe is doing in Zimbabwe.

What a wonderful moment that turned out to be, that moment of truth, when we finally broke ranks with the old guard and welcomed the new! The South Africa that was born on that day, when Nelson Mandela walked down the aisle with De Klerk to announce their collective betrothal to the concept of “healthy power-sharing”, still lives in our hearts and minds. It was a forced marriage, true enough, but as far as forced marriages go, it was a match made in heaven. At that moment, we were ready to bury the past with all its grudges and inequalities. We were all ready to try something different. And so we voted “yes” in the referendum.

We voted “yes” not only because we were sick and tired of the Nationalists, but because we truly trusted the ANC to do better, not only under Nelson Mandela, but also when Thabo Mbeki — who was considered the logical next step after Mandela — took over. Even if some of us had some doubts about whether Thabo’s guys were ready to run a modern country like South Africa, at least we knew one thing: no ANC government would ever return to the openly racist policies of the Botha’s.

There were a few tiny worrying signs right from the start, though.

For me, the first hint that something was amiss was when Mbeki refused to smile on the day of his inauguration.

The little moment of truth is forever etched in my memory: after the ceremonies and the speeches and the pomp, a smiling and jolly Soli Philander approached Mbeki to informally shake his hand on national TV.

And Mbeki brushed him aside impatiently and promptly turned his back on him.

Eventually, of course, the people of South Africa would come to realise, to their horror, that Thabo was simply Botha spelled differently. To cut a long story short: that disillusionment led to Polokwane and a new team of players entered from the wings. Exit Thabo’s guys, enter the extended Jacob Zuma family.

Okay, let’s admit it: I loved Zuma at first. I hoped he would be like a new Mandela. After all, here was a man who had suffered the most horrific trauma of being, among other things, falsely accused of rape and crucified by the media, yet he emerged from the crisis seemingly unscathed. Not merely unscathed, but smiling. Yes … smiling! We had no idea which way the country would go, but, hell, at last we once again had someone at the helm who knew how to smile.

And for a while, that smile was enough.

There were times when I agreed with Zuma’s critics, but, more and more, I tried to believe in the man. I defended him to the overseas press. I wrote columns in national newspapers, begging Afrikaners to give him a chance to prove himself. I was angry when the media tried to embarrass him with even more irrelevant details about his private life.

Soon, however, the cracks started appearing once again.

Zuma’s attitude to Mugabe was a mere continuation of Mbeki’s betrayal of the voters of Zimbabwe.

Zuma travelled the country, making loads of promises to the rural communities and then went back the comfort of his mansion and promptly forgot all about them.

Rumours started surfacing of Zuma’s cronies and family members benefiting from shady tender deals and insider trading.

Some very strange appointments were made to very prominent positions.

Now, finally, a crucial series of events, coming in quick succession during the last couple of weeks, have opened my eyes, and, for the first time, I believe I can see the post-Mandela-ANC for what it really is.

It is not a pretty sight.

I have come to understand, to my horror, that Trevor Manuel was right when he wrote that bombshell letter. That letter belongs right up there with the most famous speeches made by men like Martin Luther King.

I have come to understand that the South Africa envisaged by the post-Mandela-ANC looks remarkably similar to the South Africa envisaged by HF Verwoerd, John Vorster and PW Botha. The zebra may have exchanged its white stripes for black stripes, but it makes no difference to the end product. The zebra still looks exactly the same.

There is still no equality between black and white. In fact, there isn’t even equality between black and black.

This is a very, very bad moment for South Africans, not just for minority ethnic groups, but also for the millions of black people who want to live an honest and productive life, who wish to contribute towards the good of all, who desire nothing more than to live in peace with their fellow South Africans.

How many moments of truth can one generation handle? After all, mind-shifts like these are not easy to make. It’s traumatic to see the shattering of one’s dreams.

Nevertheless, facing the truth, yet again, is better than living under an illusion.

Perhaps it is time for the real grassroots leaders of our country to take hands, credible representatives of all our black, white, coloured and Indian communities who agree that the present process of pillaging, bickering, name-calling, rudeness, faction-forming, secrecy and blatant inefficiency simply cannot be allowed to continue any longer.

Let us take heart from events in Libya and elsewhere. No individual, group, race or power clique should ever again declare itself mightier than the simple power of reason and the yearning for fairness embodied by ordinary people.

Let us get it right once for all and recognise the true face of the post-Mandela-ANC.

And then, let’s vote them out of their offices. Let’s vote away their revenue, their sushi, their French champagne, their shopping holidays in London, their mansions protected by barbed wire fences, their risk-free, their cushy incomes unrelated to actual work and their lucrative deals.

I call on all responsible South Africans to unite, even in our diversity and start working towards a future worthy of us as a nation of free men and women, a self-respecting people true to the ideals and principles we inherited from Mandela.

It’s time to exchange this damn zebra for a real horse, don’t you agree?