By Tiro Makhudu
It is a decade old African liberation story curse. The hope that is suffocated by greed and corruption and a desperate people left in squalor in the wake of it all. As contemporary as it may be, it is neither new, nor here or there! It is the political equivalent of BIG FOOT.
Is this to say that the slum that is Alexandra township will remain thus while the richest square mile in Africa continues to thrive a mere five minute walk away?
Is it to say that our future leaders, mothers protest naked in the face of bullets, stun-grenades and teargas in vain?
Are we destined to fail or do the answers lie just beneath the surface?
To answer this question, we might need to take a look further behind the proverbial curtain lest we fight a devil we know little to nothing about. Lest we fight the wrong devil!
So what was really happening while we drank from the cup of kumbaya, held hands and sang the praises of the saints who sold us the lie that is our current democracy?
Let’s first understand the paradox or oxymoronic concept that is democracy before we bemoan what we have termed the sell-out to protect white minority capital interests.
At it’s core democracy purports to protect the rights of the individual or minority from lynching by the majority but through the power of that very majority. Hence the need for a volks-gheist or national spirit. Ours was the so-called rainbow nation!
How if at all is that a paradox and at a balance, how do we juxtapose that against restorative justice in a healthy manner? To answer that question might be to understand just how rudimentary democracy is as a concept. But for now, that is the Nkandla buying question?
But that is also only one in a long line of dominoes that has fallen…
Let’s look at a few events you may have missed in your state of euphoria:
Nelson Mandela bestowed the highest honor in the land to a genocidal maniac and we hardly noticed. What was the play there and how much rand did it mean for his political bank?
The inner circle amassed millions and even then our ecstatic states saw it as progress. Yes, the Cyrils and Tokyos who ushered in the era of the black elite! To the near insanely oblivious populous, it seemed our time would come and a cosmopolitan utopia was a mere inevitability.
Behind the curtain and beneath the surface, compromise was the order of the day. White South Africa’s privilege was being bubble wrapped and the dream the black masses shared with a childish passion was being cloaked in smoke and mirrors.
What was not factored into what became the systematic deception of an entire nation for the benefit of the few (black and white to varying proportions) was an intellectually progressive youth and an evolving media.
But hope is like any other narcotic. It is addictive and as such we cling tenuously to that dream. Although the cracks were wallpapered ever so expertly, we are wise to what lies beneath the surface. Rife corruption, disregard for the rule of law and the will of the people, shameless looting, all unabated!
I write not because I want to give you some solution of general application, some silver bullet or impose my cognisance upon you.
I write merely to remind you that you have always known the solution to the lies beneath the surface!
By Tiro Makhudu
