We, as a Rainbow Nation were off to such a good “restart” after the 1994 elections; but sadly it looks like our Rainbow Nation might be just as racially polarised as it was before then, or it might be worse, but everyone is so politically correct that it is sickening.
I count myself as one of the lucky ones, I escaped most indoctrination from the then National Party government, my mother was liberal, having coloured friends, whom she still has today, 30 odd years later, and my father was way too liberal for my liking since he supported the ANC movement’s goals.
My young mind was stimulated with all types of information in the form of books, television and sounds thanks to my wonderful parents. I remember spending my younger years running around outside, dashing into the house for a quick refill when my stomach was running on empty, teasing our then maid, now domestic worker Xaba and having a quick chat with her about where she was staying, about her kids, about school, about everything really, then dashing out to play outside again.
I was taught to “Live and let live” and to treat people, regardless of race or social standing with respect, and I could see it through the way my folks and my grandparents treated people.
To this day I live with fond memories of watching the Shaka Zulu series on TV, I remember singing We are Growing by Margaret Singana over and over while practising my warriors stance outside with a self made spear and a dustbin’s lid as a shield, I remember crying my eyes out when his two brothers killed him … I remember listening to Mango Grove’s funky pop songs with their heavy African inspired sounds.
Given, through the years I have also succumbed to the odd racial outburst and I am by no means innocent, but this was mostly due to frustration, where I would say “Fok die kaffirs” when I read about a white woman who was raped, or a white family who were slaughtered, or when I read about the corruption or something as “trivial” as animal abuse.
But then, then I remember. I remember who I am, what I’ve been taught, and how fascinated I was with the black African cultures and Kings of days gone by; I was so impressed by their sense of nobility and bravery. I remember and I realise what was taken from my fellow African brethren, and I remember all the good black Africans that I have met through my life, I remember that I’ve read the same type of articles in the Sowetan which reminded me that violence, murder and barbarism doesn’t only target a victim of a specific ethnic group.
Sure, violent hate crimes do happen between the colour divide, corruption seems to be limited to select few of politically and economically connected elite, but by judging the whole ethnic group on the actions on a corrupt few out of the 50 million odd people staying in South Africa would be to take the easy way out.
That goes for both sides of the major colour divide here in South Africa.
It is way too easy to blame a whole group than to tackle a specific problem, with specific culprits it seems, and I blame the lack of exposure to different communities and cultures along with a lack of education on both sides of the fence.
I could have easily become a white fanatical zombie after a 9mm got shoved into my face by a black man, but I didn’t, and for this I would like to thank my folks for the tolerance, understanding and compassion for my fellow human being which the instilled in my heart.
Given what I’ve written here I fully stand behind education and the transference of moral fibre between generations, and I will work tirelessly towards given the children of South Africa a chance, because they will be our Rainbow Nation’s salvation.