Having been outside South Africa for ten days, I found myself playing a silly game as I re-entered the territory of Afrika Dzonga. How do you know that you are back in South Africa?
You know you are back in South Africa when you switch on your radio and you hear episode 901 of Julius in conflict with another leader. Pandor, Skweyiya, Buthelezi, Shilowa, Zille, Cronin, Mantashe and more recently Motlanthe. Apparently Julius wishes to go to school and Motlanthe is seeking to prevent him? Pull the other one! When it comes to Julius, the question is not why, when or how, but, who will be next? Yet Julius is neither cause nor consequence, he is neither scriptwriter nor director, he is only a talented actor in a much larger cast, he is only a virulent symptom not the underlying cause of the malaise. Sure he is not without fault, who is? But we make a mistake when we heap all blame on him. We make an even bigger mistake if we think the gagging and/or the dumping of Malema will solve either “our” or “their” problems — whoever “we” and “they” are. I fear that his gagging might simply migrate, complicate and mystify the problem without either clarifying or rooting it out.
You know you are back in South Africa when prominently displayed adverts on the first, second and last pages of the most popular daily newspaper(s) relate to sexual prowess and all sorts of bizarre ‘remedies’ for the enhancement of sex. I shudder to think what these adverts say about us — especially us men? Could there be a link between what these types of adverts are appealing to and the rates of (sexual) violence — especially violence against women and children?
You will know you are back in South Africa when the Zapiro cartoon that welcomes you back is an uncreative rehash of the same stuff featured in the last twenty Zapiro cartoons? No doubt, he has served us some witty, funny, intellectually demanding and evocative cartoons over the years. But he has also served a whole set of tired, monotonous, banal and uncreative ones.
Maybe you know you are back in South Africa when the top story is about yet another ugly war between yet another youth league at war with the leader(ship) of its mother body. Not so long ago it was the Inkatha Youth Brigade. There is a permanent low-intensity war between the ANC Youth League and its elders, which can break into open war at the slightest provocation. Now the Cope youth have moved centre stage. They want their entire leadership to step down. They may or may not mean it. It could all be a signal that election campaigning for the leadership of the party has started in earnest. But who could blame the Cope youth for losing patience with a leadership that seems scared of both the elections and of taking actual leadership?
When you read about a fat birthday party held at an exclusive venue in a town near you. replete with the grandeur of expensive dress and sumptuous food shared among some very important youth of the land — many of whom are not so young any more — then you know that you are back in the “recession-defying” land called L’afrique du Sud. Apparently, “criminals” were not allowed — they might have made off with the expensive food and drinks.
You know you are back in Mzantsi when you learn of yet another CEO in yet another para-state entity seeking to receive a golden handshake worth an amount your hardworking self can never earn in a lifetime. The same parastatal wants you to pay them three times what you pay them now in the shortest period possible. Any wonder they want to squeeze every penny out of you?
Maybe it is the sight of half-naked kids splashing in the thick dark-green streams of sewer decorating the paths and dongas of the squatter camp near you. The sight of those tiny, sleazy, rickety, rusty structures in which your fellow South Africans, young and old, are packed like sardines will surely make you realise you are back home.
Or is it the sight of the sun-burnt, blind, tatter-clothed, smiling beggar at the traffic lights that welcomes you home?
Maybe it is the SMS from a friend informing you as a matter of fact that his house was “cleaned out” by burglars last week that jolts you back into South Africa. The temptation is to respond to such an SMS with the familiar “at least they did not harm you”. Worse still you could respond with “at least you (still) have a house”. Is this the state of nihilism and apathy the criminals have driven us to?
You know you are back home when you learn of the latest government stroke of genius, namely, that in 2010, Parliament opening has been synchronised with prime television time. As if viewing the opening of Parliament was the greatest of the needs of the poor at this time in this country!
You know you are back in South Africa when you learn that the Boerestan of Orania has just launched its own “currency” — the Ora — even if in reality such currency consist of vouchers pegged against the rand. You know you are back home when you hear of a snap survey conducted by one newspaper (whatever a snap survey is) which suggests that a lot more Afrikaners than those living in Orania support the Boerestan idea. Now, Orania is a small place, comprising a small number of residents (not much more than two thousand I understand) and all indications are that the leaders of the community are also thinking rather small. It beats me as to how anyone could support this unviable and unconstitutional idea — an idea that does a huge disservice to the many gallant Afrikaner leaders and thinkers who have made this country what it is today. South Africa’s current challenges will not be resolved through another Great Trek. Nor will they be resolved through another withdrawal into some small secluded and exclusive space — territorial, psychological or virtual. We are all in this together and together we should seek for solutions. Is it not time for our leaders — in all walks of life — to start sending a stronger message of disenchantment with the schemes of the folk in Orania? It takes lots of people and lots of effort to do good, but to do harm takes only a handful of people; like the criminals on the one hand and the Orania separatists on the other.
Before I am taken to the firing squad for being too negative, let me share a few positives signs that I am back in the land.
When I learnt that, while I was away, Bafana Bafana won two games and did so handsomely — I knew that I was back. I knew I was back in South Africa when I saw a newspaper report showing the faces of the South Africans who went on a humanitarian mission to Haiti. Yes, I knew I was back in South Africa when the AA sent within 30 minutes someone to come and help me start my ageing car. The beautiful smiles and the helpfulness of some of the most poorly paid workers in this country — petrol attendants — helped me realise that I was back home. Yes, the many hard-working, law-abiding South Africans of all colours, shapes and sizes — whose only wish is to live meaningfully, productively and peacefully in this great land — make me happy to be back home. The young kids who have taken over the leadership of households after the death of parents in HIV-related deaths; the old men and women who have become mothers and fathers to their grand children; the heroic survivors of violence and the working class men and women who daily struggle to hold on to dear jobs — all these people make me proud to call myself a South African. I am happy to be back home.
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