Open Writing

“All containers of yoghurt containing gelatine have been removed from the shelves of upmarket stores throughout the country. The gelatine was not mentioned in the list of ingredients on the labels. There is nothing wrong with the yoghurt, it is perfectly edible, just not appropriate for vegetarians…”

This news item came immediately after a horrifying report of the ongoing, so-called xenophobic violence in South Africa, which, over the last two weeks, has claimed over fifty lives, seriously injured hundreds, and left nearly seventeen thousand not only homeless but destitute and with no safe refuge.

How can such different news items be featured side-by-side on South African news broadcasts, given equal emphasis?

The mob violence, labelled xenophobic because it focuses for the most part on desperately poor immigrants and refugees from further north in Africa, horrifies the vast majority of people living in South Africa. It has, so far, been limited to those places where the poorest of the poor build shacks, areas known as townships or informal settlements. Here, homes are built of cardboard, rusted sheets of iron, and other cast-offs that the more comfortably housed discard.

The police force is under-equipped, inadequately trained and seems incapable of controlling this type of civil unrest, despite their best efforts. The rioters are armed with golf clubs, machetes, axes, fire, and guns with real bullets. The police are armed with fire-arms and rubber bullets. For more than a week, government resisted calling in the army to assist, and when they were called in, it was only to supply logistical assistance such as helicopters to light the alley-ways.

The violence began in the informal settlements on the fringes of Johannesburg and Pretoria and then flared up in similar areas around Cape Town, Knysna, Durban and Nelspruit.

Those people privileged to remain safely in their suburban brick houses, behind high walls topped with electric fences, with automatic gates hopefully keeping out the criminal elements, watch their television sets with horror. Pictures of foreign nationals being set alight and ripped limb from limb, flash across their screens. They see images of shouting mobs looting make-shift shops run by Zimbabweans, Mozambicans, immigrants from Malawi, Somalia, Nigeria or Pakistan.

Places of temporary refuge, such as police-stations, community halls and churches, overflow with people who don’t know how they’re ever going to pay for food, whose meagre belongings have been stolen or burned, whose source of income have been ripped from them. They have neither a change of underwear nor warm clothing for themselves, or even nappies for their babies. People running charitable organisations are stretching their energy and resources to the limits, trying to lessen the extent of the looming human catastrophe.

The victims, refugees from their homelands seeking safety in South Africa are now refugees a second time. There is no safe haven for them.

In the face of this massive, though localised, human disaster, our suburban middle-class calmly take the time to worry about whether or not the yoghurt they buy, at an exorbitant price, contains gelatine. The tubs of yoghurt removed from the shelves of those upmarket supermarkets would supply nutrition for many of the double refugees.

It is not possible for most people who live a comfortable and safe life to focus for long on the disasters of others less fortunate. We in our suburban comfort listen to radio reports and shed a tear for the human grief happening out there. Possibly, we put our hands in our pockets, donate enough money to help a few victims of violence suffer through another day, or we dig through overflowing wardrobes and give away a few clothes which we’ve grown bored with. Knowing that we’ve done our duty, we return to our comfortable lives, and worry about the ingredients of yoghurt.

There are many theories and much speculation as to why this current violence has burned its way onto our TV screens and into the lives of so many. The poorest of the poor believe that immigrants, legal or otherwise, are stealing jobs from them, are occupying housing that should be allocated to South Africans. The government, people say, have been lax in controlling the borders and refugees from our northern neighbouring countries stream through, unchecked.

There is no record of who is here legally, and who has come in without the correct documents. Refugees, who fled Zimbabwe and other politically unsettled countries, seeking a safe haven, have not been placed in camps where they would be cared for by the State. They’ve been left to fend for themselves without status or rights in our country. They’re willing to work, they’re skilled, and they’re willing to accept lower wages than South Africans. They’re already desperate when they arrive in the townships, but many have made a meagre living and are in the process of improving their standards. Our poorest-of-the-poor South Africans perceive that the immigrants have more than they have. Rumours and jealousy spread.

In spite of the speculation, no-one knows what sparked the killings and the looting, the rioting and the burning.

South Africa is a country of contrasts. Geographically we have beaches, mountains, plains and deserts, each feature with its own particular beauty. Our famous rainbow nation comprises people of African, European, Asian and East-Asian descent. In spite of our disreputable past under Apartheid, the majority of South Africans get on well together, enjoy each others’ company and differences. We’re known for our warm hospitality, embracing the policy of ubuntu, where every person’s humanity depends on that of everyone around them.

What went wrong? What sent a small number of South Africans spinning out of control to burn, murder and plunder? So far, there are only questions. Maybe one day, there will be answers. Maybe one day, our beautiful country and its warm and wonderful people will live in peace.

Sometimes, poetry helps to crystallise one’s thoughts and emotions:

What is the world coming to?

Parts of my country are burning -
People in my country are burning.

But – who?

It is said that being poor takes all one’s time and energy. Those of us who have time and energy to read, and computers to display this article, are rich beyond belief in comparison to those who are rioting in South Africa’s townships, and even more so when compared to the victims of this violence.

In this context, perhaps, perpetrators and victims are all victims together. One day, perhaps, we’ll know where and why it all began.

Until next time, ‘here comes Treble!’

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by Isabel Bradley