Well this is going to be a quick blog as I am heading out in a few moments but I just wanted to lament for a bit.
Just shy of a year ago, I was busy packing my bags for a trip of a lifetime into the depths of Africa to visit our nearest relatives, the gorillas. Filled with much trepidation, I was glad for the company of my mate. Honestly I don't think I would have done it without the arm-twisting of my friend.
It did turn out to be a trip of a lifetime, one that made me fall in love with Africa all over again - and subsequently I have been floating around the UK like a lost fart in a perfume factory ever since.
Much has changed in my life since then, with steely determination I am trying to make a go of freelance journalism and am trying to live according to my soul's desires. It isn't easy and at times I feel like throwing in the towel and returning to the stomach-churning world of IT but God-willing I will make my dreams come true. Things are looking up now, so hold thumbs this brief rocky period will soon be over.
Now for the lament...Africa. I miss it intensely but am not sure if I can go back there permanently. Having lived in the UK for so many years, can I still call myself African? People that have never lived abroad may not understand but as I sit here today I am kinda without nationality. I am neither African nor a Brit. Africa changed and so have I. When I speak to people still living in SA, I see this wide gap between their ways and my own. In order to survive in the UK I adapted my ways. I will never be a Brit but there are elements of me that are more Brit then SA. So where do I belong, where do I fit in this global blueprint?
I keep telling myself it is time to move on, maybe Italy. The truth is what I hunt will not be found in Europe or Australia. Africa holds my heart - like a possessive lover, it refuses to let go. I can hear the words "Go home" gently carried across the wind but I am fearful of returning and no longer belonging there.
There are no easy answers to these questions. For now this little lost African will continue to mimic the British ways and hope that one day the spirit Gods will lead me to the place that is home, wherever that may be.
Showing posts with label africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label africa. Show all posts
Saturday, 11 October 2008
Friday, 23 May 2008
The real South Africa
My blood is boiling right now. I've been following the story on the xenophobia in SA, and it looks like our little rainbow nation is dissipating. The truth is trouble has been brewing for quite sometime, and now that the foreign immigrants are being attacked, beaten and necklaced the International Press is suddenly interested.
What really gets me is that South Africa is showing signs of going the same way as every other African State, look at Zimbabwe, Kenya, Rwanda and the Congo to name a few. OK so in those countries the violence was inter-tribal and about gaining power over each other, but it amounts to the same thing. Are the people of Africa just blood-thirsty barbarians?
Watching the latest outbreak of violence unfold and hearing that the army has been sent in to sort it out has stirred up long forgotten memories. I grew up in South Africa and throughout my childhood, I felt safe. The army protected us from the insurgents. I remember standing in my classroom watching the army casspirs and buffels patrolling the school perimeter when the rebels had threatened to bomb our schools. I remember the State of Emergency being instated and curfews being imposed on us, but still I felt safe. The army protected us.
The media was controlled by the government so we never really understood the magnitude of the situation. It was only towards the end of 80's and the beginning of the downfall of the National Party that we started learning the truth. The violence in the townships shocked us, seeing the news coverage of black people being necklaced, murdered and beaten by both black people and the police. I used to fall asleep at night listening to the rally of gunfire across the valley.
The '94 election was presented to the world as the beginning of a era for South Africa, a period of peace. The truth is most of us whities were very nervous. Many fled the country and those of us that stayed behind weren't quite sure what to expect. This is Africa after all, there has never been a peaceful transition of power in any African State. Bravely we queued to cast our vote, hoping the chanting of 'One bullet, one boer' wouldn't come true.
It was a bit anti-climatic, there was no fallout after the election. FW de Klerk and Mandela shared power and there was relative peace. We just went back to living our lives with little change. Once the coalition broke, violence and crime intensified. Horrific stories emerged of hijackings, rape and robberies, murders and the worst of all - the kidnapping and rape of babies, encouraged by witch doctors claiming that it will cure Aids.
Living in Johannesburg became great fun. We got to run red traffic lights at night, every second person carried a gun. The best was coming home inebriated and being able to sober up in seconds as you never knew whether you would become another statistic the minute you entered the front door. No matter how much security you had, if the criminals wanted to break in, they would. Unlike the civilized world, if you disturbed an intruder you were bound to meet your end and it probably wouldn't be swift.
So like many others that lost hope in the Rainbow Nation, I fled looking for a place where I could feel safe again. I spend many sleepless nights worrying about my family back home, South Africa has become more corrupt and the crimes more heinous.
What really gets me is that South Africa is showing signs of going the same way as every other African State, look at Zimbabwe, Kenya, Rwanda and the Congo to name a few. OK so in those countries the violence was inter-tribal and about gaining power over each other, but it amounts to the same thing. Are the people of Africa just blood-thirsty barbarians?
Watching the latest outbreak of violence unfold and hearing that the army has been sent in to sort it out has stirred up long forgotten memories. I grew up in South Africa and throughout my childhood, I felt safe. The army protected us from the insurgents. I remember standing in my classroom watching the army casspirs and buffels patrolling the school perimeter when the rebels had threatened to bomb our schools. I remember the State of Emergency being instated and curfews being imposed on us, but still I felt safe. The army protected us.
The media was controlled by the government so we never really understood the magnitude of the situation. It was only towards the end of 80's and the beginning of the downfall of the National Party that we started learning the truth. The violence in the townships shocked us, seeing the news coverage of black people being necklaced, murdered and beaten by both black people and the police. I used to fall asleep at night listening to the rally of gunfire across the valley.
The '94 election was presented to the world as the beginning of a era for South Africa, a period of peace. The truth is most of us whities were very nervous. Many fled the country and those of us that stayed behind weren't quite sure what to expect. This is Africa after all, there has never been a peaceful transition of power in any African State. Bravely we queued to cast our vote, hoping the chanting of 'One bullet, one boer' wouldn't come true.
It was a bit anti-climatic, there was no fallout after the election. FW de Klerk and Mandela shared power and there was relative peace. We just went back to living our lives with little change. Once the coalition broke, violence and crime intensified. Horrific stories emerged of hijackings, rape and robberies, murders and the worst of all - the kidnapping and rape of babies, encouraged by witch doctors claiming that it will cure Aids.
Living in Johannesburg became great fun. We got to run red traffic lights at night, every second person carried a gun. The best was coming home inebriated and being able to sober up in seconds as you never knew whether you would become another statistic the minute you entered the front door. No matter how much security you had, if the criminals wanted to break in, they would. Unlike the civilized world, if you disturbed an intruder you were bound to meet your end and it probably wouldn't be swift.
So like many others that lost hope in the Rainbow Nation, I fled looking for a place where I could feel safe again. I spend many sleepless nights worrying about my family back home, South Africa has become more corrupt and the crimes more heinous.
The latest outbreak of violence isn't a surprise. South Africa is a violent country, just like every other African country. People don't value life. You can be murdered for a mobile phone and the murderer will feel no remorse. People abroad ask me why Africans are so violent and the truth is I don't know. I want to believe that there is good in everyone, but how can I when I see the senseless killings on the streets of South Africa? I just wish that the illusion I had as a child of a safe South Africa will eventually become a reality, but I have little hope that it will.
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