Sipho Seepe & Annette Lansink: What on earth are you two saying?!

Please read this article by Sipho Seepe and Annette Lansink. Now, if you were a teacher/lecturer what grade would you give the authors? If you have the time, do scroll down after reading that article and you will see a crisp comment on the content of the article. You will also see the kind of negative comment that the manner in which the article is written invites.

The debate is important, more important than I have the words or the time to properly express its importance. The contribution of the authors (both of whom are not strangers to academia) would in my view have been much more useful if it was not set in such hard to get through language. What on earth does "Diversity can be systemic and programmatic with differentiation conceptualised along vertical or horizontal axis." mean?

A student organisation I belonged to many years ago, recognised the inequalities not only in the education that prepared students for university but also in how universities treated students unfairly in their attempt to treat students equally. We have an opportunity to formulate strategies for higher education that seeks to promote excellence without being elitist. It is possible to motivate students of all sorts of backgrounds to strive to be the best they can be. To introduce, as some institutions have done, programmes to help students to get better. All well and good but until and unless the students themselves accept that theirs is an intellectual project, I doubt if it would be of any use.

What the article succeded in doing was to leave me rather cloudy. Unhelpful really.

Racial Rage: a belated apology to my wife

This is a difficult post on many levels but moreso because it is personal. I had, when I started this space, hoped for it to be a forum where we (I dreamt of a large following) could as best we can, deal with issues as honestly and openly as possible. These were meant and still are meant to be issues that should not be personalised. I admit now that everything is personal and that without personal responsibility there really would be no point to this and any other social interaction. I often parade myself as a sensible individual who can deal with challenges with calm and common sense. This past Tuesday, that facade crumbled and exposed a part of me that disappointed me greatly.

I took my wife out on a date to go see a play "Closer" at the Market theatre. Although I cannot really afford it and although I deny it everytime my dear wife points it out, I am a snob. I love reserved sitting. I love knowing that I will not have to fight over a place to sit - I hate fighting (at least I believe I do); I was never good at it. Simply put, I am a coward. I have no time nor stomach for confrontation. At least that is what I believe.

There was no reserved sitting for this particular show and that bothered me somewhat. It bothered me because people have proved time and time again to be quite inept when it comes to public places etiquette. I was proved right. The Laager theatre was fairly full by the time we walked in but there were a few rows (they have these long benches on either side of the aisle) with a few open spaces. I chose the wrong row. We were barely into the row, with my wife leading when this seemingly young white woman jumped up from her seat to tell us that the spaces were taken. That simple act spurred me into a rage. A racial rage. At that moment all I saw was yet another white South African appropriating public space! The fact that she stood up and was about to physically stop my wife from getting past her to get to the open space did not help what was already a hopeless situation. Looking back, I should at that point have stopped to consider what it is I was doing. I regret that I did not. The truth, as pointed out by my wife is, she could not have prevented us from taking those seats. I should have kept my mouth shut, my rage in my pocket and proceded to sit down with dignity. Instead I behaved like a moronic cretin when clearly there was not need for it; in retrospect. No, I am not exaggerating.

I have considered an apology to this young lady (using the term loosely). Apart from the fact that I would not even remember what she looks like (you know how white people look alike) or her name - I do not think she would understand my apology. Here is the thing: her friends for whom she insisted the seats are reserved for or taken by, the friends who were just in the toilet and were coming, did finally arrive. After they had taken "their" seats, there was still enought space for at least two more people. Why did she try to stop us two from taking our place on the bench. Eish!

I am still disappointed at how I reacted to her and do apologise to her. She bore the brunt of all those other white people that I experience all the time appropriating public space. This is slippery-slope, thin-edge-of-the-wedge stuff. There are tons of examples out there of black people appropriating public space too. Why don't I see this and if I do see it, why do I not rage at them? Would I have raged at a rugby type guy under the same circumstances? This is hard stuff for me which I hope I get to grips with for myself. Underneath the calm facade bubbles a rage that can't wait to come out everytime a white driver does 60km/h in the fast lane and won't move. Everytime a white parent stops in the middle of the road to let out the kids out of the car at my childrens school. Instead of waiting their turn to park. Everytime they stop in the middle of the shopping isle to chat, blocking my progress.

This is the stuff that each one of us, on a personal responsibility level, have to get rid of, and get rid of fast. These are people who do not understand nor appreciate common courtesy. I ask not to be judged by my blackness. I tell my colleagues that my being late for meetings has nothing to do with my being black and they laugh. I hope that I have learnt my lesson. The next time it happens - trust me it will happen again - I will see a person whose world I would not like to inhabit and move on to find people who share my views about public space. I will quietly and with dignity assert my right to such public space. Maybe then, I will earn the right not to be judged by my blackness (whatever that means). I take personal responsibility for my behaviour and do not excuse it. I am grateful for the poignant albeit unpleasant lesson, especially at this time of the history of our country.

Rage is so ugly - dignity so beautiful - but reserved sitting is even better.

AWB swears revenge . . .

I'm having my first cup of tea hoping to catch Justice Malala on the telly. I am confronted by Jeremy Maggs instead and what's more, that Patta woman is also on, something is going down (I thought sipping my tea). As it turned out, something big had gone down and it had to do with my birth province, the North-West. Jeremy tells me of the breaking news no, I lie, he drowns me in analysis, supposition and conjecture. But hey, this is news in the 21st century: while we are waiting to learn what the real story is, we will fill the time with what we believe to be the real story. Sorry, I'm off track here (I can hear Jeremy whisper "see, it's not so easy telling a story without getting side-tracked).

Against whom is the AWB revenge going to be metted out? My ever-so-perceptive wife believes it would be directed mainly at the defenceless, as it has always been. I can't help but agree. I can almost see the news headline: "10 year old boy is beaten to death walking to the township from Ventersdorp's only model C school". But that won't be news or would it?

ET was reportedly killed by two of his workers, one of whom is 16 years old. Just as an aside, what is the minimum age of employment in this country? Then again, whatever it is, it may not apply in "Vaderland" sorry, Ventersdorp. Reportedly, the two now unemployed men were arrested or did they hand themselves over to the police, Jeremy was not so clear on this? Is there a difference? It was also reported that the pair had a dispute with ET over pay. Not much else is said about this pair. Who they are, where they were born and when they got into the business of offing others. Maybe that is because they are in custody and like Nelson Mandela many years ago, they may not be quoted or written about.

I put these snippets together in my head and can't help but wonder what the big deal really is. Death is always a tough thing for nearest and dearst, murder is always an ugly thing never to be condoned. I still don't see why my Sunday news schedule had to be changed and why I had to be flooded by news about a has-been like ET. Even as I sit here typing this, the TV is reminding me of this boer's death. Does anyone even care that I missed The Justice Factor?

So, is the AWB going to injure the two men to death (an expression borrowed from another South African political formation)? How is ET's death going to be avenged exactly? What am I missing here? There was a pay dispute and then a murder. Admittedly, there is whole lot missing in the middle but this is all I have to go on. I still don't see the leap to "revenge". I concede, logic, common sense, rationale are not attributes the AWB is known for. Vacant faces, mono-coloured clothing and propensity for violence, now those are familiar AWB traits.

As these members of the South African society contemplate revenge, they may want to pause to consider that revenge, like coke, is better enjoyed cold, ice-cold. They may do even better and remember that coke is laregely over-rated. If they can manage these mental gymnastics . . . who am I kidding, the AWB would cease to exist wouldn't it?

Revenge may be the only thing the AWB has left. Against whom though and for what?

Will real parents please stand up, please stand up . . .

There is nothing more this space can add on the trend of protests and destruction of the very amenities that are said to be the cause of disquiet. I for one do not stir any emotion at the sight of adults pulling up traffic signs, blockading roads and generally making a shameful nuisance of themeselves in the name of "service delivery protests".

What does without fail leave me in a helpless fit of rage is the even greater helplessness of the children. Take the incident, the othere day, where a library was burned down. What is to happen to the children who as their homework are required to visit a library? I listened with fascination as a 6 year old told me that at her school (far, far away from the townships) every Friday is library day and she gets to take a book out to read for the whole week and she returns it the next Friday. You see where this is going right? Will the parents please take up the fight on behalf of their children! When all this is over, the parents/adults will go back to work (if they have work to go to), the out of school youth will go back to whatever it is that they do when they are not protesting. The children however, will still not have a library and they will still not a stop or other traffic signs to protect them from cars.

Then there are other children. Admittedly, much older children, who in all fairness should be held responsible for their actions. These are those children who through the means of their parents or otherwise, are at university. Who form part of a minority that is most likely to be part of this country's privileged few. That is if they finish their studies and are able to put their learned skills to some gainful endeavour. These children however go on a rampage, protesting and blockading. Of course they call this peaceful protest, demonstration and freedom of expression. But, theirs is no different an expression of that freedom to that exercised by, say the taxi drivers/owners against the BRT. Once again I ask, where are the parents of these children? Is there no one who can say: "Ok, so Polokwane promised free education and yes, Polokwane is taking some time to deliver that free education - please go do what you are here for while Polokwane gets its act together." In a manner of speaking. In any event, are the other children not as free to attend class if they want to; as those who seek to express their freedom are free to protest and demonstrate? Where are the parents of these children whose aspirations the children carry on their shoulders. "You are the first in this clan to go to university, make us proud." The funding model of tertiary education is a separate matter. "My daughter, education is your inheritance!" Where are the parents who say this?

Then there is this particular tragic case going on south of here. Children are dead, parents are mourning and two children are charged with the murder of those children. To this day, I see the pain in my mother's eyes - the pain of burrying her young son. This is tragic. Now, children who are supposed to be in school; who are supposed to be grateful that they are alive and have an opportunity to get an education; are protesting, demonstrating, expressing their freedom and threatening violence outside the court. They want to meet out their brand of justice to the accused. They, like their brothers and sisters and parents elsewhere, are destroying the neighbourhood. Signs are uprooted, dustbins emptied onto the road surfaces and mayhem with wild abandon ensues. Where are the parents of these poor souls to whip them right into the classrooms? Are there any children in any classroom in Protea? Will these children be at the court everytime those other children appear in court?

When matters are as serious if not as tragic as this, one can only hope that the real parents will stand up lest the children remain forever down.

So, when did African lose its meaning?

Probably around the same time as the decision that Robert Sobukwe is no longer relevant as a liberation figure in South Africa - you may say.

It seems to be widely accepted that reference to African is short-hand for Black people who are not Coloured or Indian. I have also heard "Black African" being used - this is more confusing than the former use. The explanation that was given to me during one of those important corporate SA meetings was that: "Black is a generic term which means Africans, Coloured and Indians". In fact, I was referred to some legislation which decrees as such. So, if it says so in an Act of Parliament, then it must be so.

African no longer means "of Afrika" as would European (of Europe), Chinese (of China), Indian (of Indian), Namibian (of Namibia) and so on and so forth. It means a Black South African. It follows that an African living in South Africa is not like one living in Nigeria. All this is confusing - moreso to an anal retentive darkie trying to make sense of his messy world. It is with tragic amusement that I ponder corporate SA statistics: 20% Coloured, 5% Indian, 3% Black. However, seeing that the law says Black means all three, it is 3% African just to make sure that the 3% has no Coloureds or Indians in it. Of the 3 so-called previously disadvantaged groups, only one is African the rest plus Whites, are not.

Other than in legislation, past and present - do the terms Black and Coloured have any meaning? Do they have any meaning other than the constructed meaning? I get a NO to that answer - what do you get? Most adult South Africans my age have a fairly good idea why those words were given their respective meaning. One would have thought therefore that such meaning would be rejected on account of nonsense - but NO, we have a transition to make sense of here. Besides, what is not measured, is not done - so they say in corporate SA. How then would we determine whether the ills of the past are being undone without the use of these neat concepts? I have no cooking clue, like that chef in that reality TV show.

So I'm thinking: isn't it so that I am no more black than I am not white and no more coloured than I am not black and not white? I can live with all this but what does that have to do with African? I am quite happy to be confused by artificial constructions such as Black, Coloured and White. Remember that movie dialogue "you people are more brown than you are black - you people are more pink than you are white"? For Timbuktu's sake why does African have to be thrown into this confusion too?

I don't know about you but me - I am an African, a South African Motswana, Mongwaketsi wa ga heyana heya, masia le kgomo a lesa temo - and about that, let there be no confusion. So I ask with humility, when you call me Black what do you mean? I know what you mean when you call me African.

In celebration of Slavery, Apartheid and Bantu Education . . . . . . . NOT!

A certain journalist, author and African-American gentleman celebrates being an American in a book whose title I cannot remember but which caused a stir a few years ago when it came out or at least when it hit the South African bookshops. The name of the gentlemen and the title of his book are not the point; the point is the celebration of his American-ness or rather, the words he uses to express that celebration: “thank God I’m an American”. Nothing wrong with that; I have been heard to express similar sentiment about being a South African, since 1994, that is.

In the book, the gentleman states that he is grateful that his ancestor(s) survived the perilous journey across the Atlantic and the ravages of slavery on their arrival in the land of the free. He is grateful that they did not succumb to scurvy or wanton killing aboard the slave ship; or that they did not find themselves on the wrong side of the massa’s rifle. In his celebration and gratitude he makes it clear that he is even happier that he was not born in Africa.

There is a context to this book and the sentiments that are expressed by the author. The book was apparently inspired by the scenes witnessed by the author while as a journalist, he covered and reported on the genocide in Rwanda. He describes how while standing on the banks of some river in Rwanda, he saw bloated discoloured dead human bodies floating down the river like logs. I am not quoting from the book; I am paraphrasing at great liberty. This gruesome experience leads to the celebration of being an American as opposed to being a citizen of one of those vicious West African countries. My interpretation: “thank God for the slave trade”. This brings me to the point of this blah, blah, bloody blah . . . But before that, one more story.

Another journalist/columnist, this time a South African, in his letter chastising the present minister of basic education for all manner of faults not the least her cordial relationship with one Julius Malema; celebrates the “good” virtues of Bantu Education. He says that the current lot in government when they took over some 15 years ago threw out the Bantu Education water with the good values, respect and discipline baby. He states that respect and discipline were one of the good virtues of Apartheid/Bantu Education and these, he pleads, we should have kept and in fact advises the minister to restore them. When addressing discipline, he promptly reminds the minister that it is her ilk in the ANC that did away with corporal punishment in schools and threatened any teacher who administers it with jail (without passing begin or collecting 200). My interpretation: “there is a lot that was good about Apartheid/Bantu Education”.

I am somewhat of a zealot when it comes to these things. You see, I struggle to see how any good can come from evil. Having caught the tail end of Bantu Education, I am no expert on the system. When 1994 came, I was already a father of a 3 year old girl (yes, I started farming early). I managed to get through school ok and gained access to tertiary education. I do not however celebrate Apartheid, Bantu Education or any of the so-called good virtues of that system. Those of us Black people who made it, did not do so because of Bantu Education but in spite of it. The terrible high school that I attended (which for reasons that can only exist under Apartheid, was very popular) boasts some impressive individuals among its past students. Take the daughter of a mineworker who now holds a BSc Honours from Kings College London among her numerous qualifications least of which is a medical degree from South Africa’s top university. She doesn’t celebrate Apartheid, Bantu Education, the migrant labour system or the terrible school. She celebrates her father who insisted on her being the best she can be. She celebrates her mother who nurtured and inspired her unbreakable spirit.

The so-called good virtues of Apartheid or any of its monstrous sub-inventions deserve a better analysis than they routinely receive in our media and academic writing. We need analysis and commentary that appreciates the enormity of the task before the political leadership while decrying poor leadership. It will not matter how much work the government and schools put into solving the challenges faced by the education system. What would matter is for parents to take a page out of that old mineworker’s book of encouragement and support for our children. Of course it makes for great politics to make speeches and debate the issues and to point fingers. Unfortunately it is in that time that we will continue to produce school leavers who are only qualified to be hewers of wood and drawers of water. Maybe that is not such a big deal when our own are taken care of and poised for greater things in those other schools where teaching and learning happens all year through.

Of writers, blacks and a tragedy

I am still trying to figure out what it means to be black in this brand new 16 years old South Africa. Go ahead and snigger all you like. This is my question, my journey and you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to. What is the one thing that makes me black today? Here? I am sure that I know the answer to these questions - Almost as sure as I am that I don’t quite know.

Ok, I went on this journey after I read Mr Sandile Memela’s latest post on the “Thought Leader Blog”. He is upset (at least that how it read to me) about the ever growing tendency for black writers to trash all that is black and that is government. He is onto their stuff though, at least that is what he writes. He is onto these sell-outs (this is my word) – he has worked out that the reason that they do this (trash other blacks and the government) is so that the white publishers would publish their stuff. The alternative for them, it seems, would be to be a blogger like me, with a dedicated readership of 3 (all dear friends).

I go through the blog and think: he is onto something here. Then suddenly I realise that the very things that he admonishes Xolela Mangcu, Moeletsi Mbeki and others for doing, becomes the very peg on which he hangs his critic coat. I could live with that. You know they say one should not do as another does but rather as the other says. Learn from other’s mistakes and so on. Then I set out to find out more about this Mr Memela. There is a helpful bit on the top right-hand corner of the blog that lets you a little into who he is and where he hangs out during the day. It is when he described himself as a “government funk” that the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I still thought that I could deal with all that, as I should. My view is, you learn from others. You don’t even have to agree with them – just don’t repeat their howlers for to re-howl is to be stupid and you don’t want to be caught being stupid, right?

Mr Memela also writes that he is tolerant of views that don’t necessarily fit in with his own. I then think: come on, now you just shitting me aren’t you? You clearly don’t like the ideas of Mangcu and Mbeki. You actually call them unpleasant names, right there in your post; you call them such and such, and this and that. You can’t stand these okes or their ideas at least. You write clearly how they are the cancer that is going to kill the black writer. So what am I to learn from you and them now? I haven’t a clue. What I am painfully realising is how difficult being black has become since we started calling ourselves black as opposed to being designated as such by some or other authority.

It seems to me that the views that one may hold – one being black that is – must be carefully checked lest they do not accord with those of the black majority or the government. As I read Mr Memela’s piece and the comments in support of it, I fantasised about writing a book under a title: “the colour of ideas”. I also got stuck on some of the concepts and phrases in the post, so I realised that I need to read more and learn more. I am stuck when it comes to the word “intellectual” even more so if it is a pseudo kind. I am as a general proposition attracted to ideas and thoughts. I am fascinated by how minds work – all kinds of minds. I am no intellectual. I think about things, events, people, my children and the future – among many things that cross my mind. There are those whom I regard as intellectuals but given the use of the term these days, they may well not be; or they may be pseudo.

I am all for disagreements. Especially among black people – intellectuals or not. I criticise and have criticised the government in this space. I do so for the same reason I criticised and disagreed with Prof. Jansen: because I know they can be much better, good as they may be. I would have liked Mr Memela to take these offending black writers on. I would have liked him to engage the ideas and thoughts they express. I would have liked him to engage those ideas and reduce them to nought as they should be. It is a pity his critic stops at name calling and denigration.

This, is the real tragedy of being a black writer.