A new way of mourning, on Facebook

Facebook has changed the nature of friendship for many South Africans; I know that without it, my own sense of isolation would be so much worse. Facebook has also changed the way we mourn. Now, when terrible things happen to people we care about, we create Facebook groups in their honour.

I was reminded of this when reading this story about violence in Durban’s pubs and nightclubs. Apparently it is related to racial tension fuelled by alcohol, drugs and gangsterism. The latest brawl left a young musician brain dead after he was hit with a bottle. He was kept on life support so that his mother, who flew in from London, could be at his side before he slipped away forever. There’s a follow-up story here (note the reference to race, again).

Terry Mbesa has since died. He was 24 years old.

His story is heartbreaking, even more so when you look at the Facebook groups started in response to the news that he had been hospitalised. He was clearly a popular young man with many friends — many of whom are scattered all over the world now. (What’s striking, given that Terry’s injury was linked by the media to a racial incident — the first report is not especially strong on facts — is that those friends are overwhelmingly white.)

Another group was started to discuss violence at Boktown, where Terry performed, and where he was injured. “Terrence from the Bluff is lying lifeless in a coma,” reads the blurb, “DUE TO THE once again, fight that broke out on Saturday night at Boktown …….. How many more of our dear friends will we lose due to the poor supervision and rules???????”

There are some heated arguments there about what caused this tragedy — the stupidity of some residents of the Bluff, or lax security at the club itself. (Again, nowhere is there any mention of a racial dimension, which does raise questions about the way in which this incident has been reported.)

When I first took a look at the Facebook groups mentioned in the news report, Terry was still holding on. As news that Terry had died spread, new groups were started. Where the previous groups had focused on praying for Terry, now these were in his memory.

Facebook has become a forum, not only for keeping in touch with friends and relatives scattered across the world, but for expressing how much we love and care for friends who are no longer with us. Reading those messages written by Terry’s friends brought the tragedy of his death home in a way that no news article ever could. Their messages are public gestures of solidarity, evidence that they, too, cared. In the response to the young man’s death lay a glimpse of a South Africa that confounds the stereotypes.

A friend of mine says Facebook is the new virginity — you have to think very carefully about changing your relationship status, because once you do, everybody knows. In this often frightening, inexplicable world of ours, it’s the new mourning, too.