I grew up in the midst of violence and I do not think that it is in any way an exaggeration. I grew up in the company of violence, most of it almost always directed at and suffered by the weak and the marginalised.
Vimba! (pronounced veem-ber) Thiba! (pronounced tea-ber) both meaning stop. Ok, some context: a stray dog is running away from a group of boys who for no other reason than that it is a stray helpless dog, want to kill it or inflict harm on it. They are throwing stones and other objects at the obviously terrified creature which is literally running for dear life. The boys are shouting Thiba! or Vimba! depending whether you are in Mareetsane (some township in the North-West) or Dube (some part of Soweto). The blood-thirsty shouts bring out more boys from their homes – they drop whatever they were doing and they join in the chase, the kill. The dog hardly ever makes it. Between the marauding boys and the unruly township traffic, what are the chances for the poor thing?
When the violence was not directed at stray dogs, it was invariably directed at the weaker boys, the different boys, the marginalised boys, the boys who for some reason did not get off on the violence. Humans have in my life been chased like that stray dog. They would be chased, stoned and when caught, beat to death or burned alive. This would be another human being but it would be okay to kill him because he belonged to a different clan, a different political party, he was a cop, an impimpi – that made it alright. The most recent of this phenomenon was portrayed in the papers as “the burning man”. He apparently was a foreigner, among his other sins.
I spent and continue to spend a lot of time trying to understand violence regardless of the context. I am a coward with a very low pain threshold so I often wonder about the guys who do not seem to mind pain on themselves or on others, especially on others. The 1980’s were therefore the most traumatic period of my growing up. This is the time that violence would not just walk on by or nod in my direction; this is the time when violence often stopped to chat. These interactions were always devastating to me – the memories continue to haunt me.
Student activists in a small community in a middle of nowhere have a dispute. A territorial dispute! One of the student organisation is primarily made up of and led by girls –very outspoken and clever girls. The dispute is apparently that the girls are canvassing for support of their organisation by bad-mouthing the other organisation. You will recall that both organisations were in the business of liberating the country from the tyranny of apartheid. Both organisations existed for no other reason but to liberate their people. A meeting of the wronged organisation was called – the meeting resolved that the leaders must go meet these girls and talk sense into them, otherwise . . .
And so the meeting was arranged between the leaders of the two student organisations. This meeting degenerated into a shouting match. The girls were blamed for the degeneration of the meeting. This is a small community in the middle of nowhere. Now that the girls would not be told what to do nor how to do it, a further meeting is called and then at this latter meeting a proposal is made that the girls be beaten up to teach them a lesson, after-all these girls would not listen to reason. Then things take an interesting turn.
The leader of the organisation says that this is not the way liberators of people should conduct themselves. He suggests that there are many alternatives to violence and he lists some examples. He is passionately arguing his case for non-violence when he is told to put the whole thing to a vote. Ok, all those who want to go beat up girls say Yay! The vote is overwhelmingly in favour of violence. The leader explains that he cannot support the decision. He says that the organisation will have to find another leader because he is resigning. He is told to voetsek and a replacement is promptly voted into office.
That Friday night the girls were attacked while they were sleeping. The attack was not particularly brutal as it apparently was only meant to scare the girls. But this is a small community in the middle of nowhere. It is pitch dark. Girls run (for dear live and chastity) this is when they run into all manner of objects that cut and hurt them. They ran into trees, they sprained ankles stepping into holes in the ground, pieces of metal sheets cut their bare feet; they got hurt and were terrified. After the girls were dealt with, a short meeting considered whether to deal with the traitor ex-leader as well. For unknown reason he was left unharmed.
Last week I hear that university students killed and maimed each other for reasons of political affiliation. I can almost hear a replay of 1985 in my head.
Vimba! (pronounced veem-ber) Thiba! (pronounced tea-ber) both meaning stop. Ok, some context: a stray dog is running away from a group of boys who for no other reason than that it is a stray helpless dog, want to kill it or inflict harm on it. They are throwing stones and other objects at the obviously terrified creature which is literally running for dear life. The boys are shouting Thiba! or Vimba! depending whether you are in Mareetsane (some township in the North-West) or Dube (some part of Soweto). The blood-thirsty shouts bring out more boys from their homes – they drop whatever they were doing and they join in the chase, the kill. The dog hardly ever makes it. Between the marauding boys and the unruly township traffic, what are the chances for the poor thing?
When the violence was not directed at stray dogs, it was invariably directed at the weaker boys, the different boys, the marginalised boys, the boys who for some reason did not get off on the violence. Humans have in my life been chased like that stray dog. They would be chased, stoned and when caught, beat to death or burned alive. This would be another human being but it would be okay to kill him because he belonged to a different clan, a different political party, he was a cop, an impimpi – that made it alright. The most recent of this phenomenon was portrayed in the papers as “the burning man”. He apparently was a foreigner, among his other sins.
I spent and continue to spend a lot of time trying to understand violence regardless of the context. I am a coward with a very low pain threshold so I often wonder about the guys who do not seem to mind pain on themselves or on others, especially on others. The 1980’s were therefore the most traumatic period of my growing up. This is the time that violence would not just walk on by or nod in my direction; this is the time when violence often stopped to chat. These interactions were always devastating to me – the memories continue to haunt me.
Student activists in a small community in a middle of nowhere have a dispute. A territorial dispute! One of the student organisation is primarily made up of and led by girls –very outspoken and clever girls. The dispute is apparently that the girls are canvassing for support of their organisation by bad-mouthing the other organisation. You will recall that both organisations were in the business of liberating the country from the tyranny of apartheid. Both organisations existed for no other reason but to liberate their people. A meeting of the wronged organisation was called – the meeting resolved that the leaders must go meet these girls and talk sense into them, otherwise . . .
And so the meeting was arranged between the leaders of the two student organisations. This meeting degenerated into a shouting match. The girls were blamed for the degeneration of the meeting. This is a small community in the middle of nowhere. Now that the girls would not be told what to do nor how to do it, a further meeting is called and then at this latter meeting a proposal is made that the girls be beaten up to teach them a lesson, after-all these girls would not listen to reason. Then things take an interesting turn.
The leader of the organisation says that this is not the way liberators of people should conduct themselves. He suggests that there are many alternatives to violence and he lists some examples. He is passionately arguing his case for non-violence when he is told to put the whole thing to a vote. Ok, all those who want to go beat up girls say Yay! The vote is overwhelmingly in favour of violence. The leader explains that he cannot support the decision. He says that the organisation will have to find another leader because he is resigning. He is told to voetsek and a replacement is promptly voted into office.
That Friday night the girls were attacked while they were sleeping. The attack was not particularly brutal as it apparently was only meant to scare the girls. But this is a small community in the middle of nowhere. It is pitch dark. Girls run (for dear live and chastity) this is when they run into all manner of objects that cut and hurt them. They ran into trees, they sprained ankles stepping into holes in the ground, pieces of metal sheets cut their bare feet; they got hurt and were terrified. After the girls were dealt with, a short meeting considered whether to deal with the traitor ex-leader as well. For unknown reason he was left unharmed.
Last week I hear that university students killed and maimed each other for reasons of political affiliation. I can almost hear a replay of 1985 in my head.
It is the violence of our politics.
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Sheesh.
ReplyDeleteOn the weekend I spent some time with friends from the University of the North West. And I couldn't believe their stories, even from last year, people protesting and burning things down and getting beaten up and curfews an what now. Wow that is some scary stuff right there. Completely outside of my world.