Whilst watching the State of the Nation Address (SONA) last week, a mate of mine sent me a very funny text message, which got me thinking about the sad state of affairs in this oligarchy (it never was a democracy to begin with, was it?) that we live in called South Africa.
Commenting about the pomp and ceremony that makes the SONA such a huge event on our annual calendar, specifically as relates to politicians on the red carpet, this is what my mate said, “Are you watching the SONA fashion show Mugsy? This lot are clearly not starving.”
Freaking hilarious right, but what an indictment on the country that we live in and the society that we have become. Whilst political and business elites are “clearly not starving”, despite the State of Disaster that we are entering into, the middle class, the working class and the poor are teetering on the edge, struggling to make ends meet in a country that offers so much but gives them specifically so little, when we juxtapose their lives with those of political and business elites.
I read somewhere recently that the majority of the black middle class are literally only three salaries away from losing everything, a sobering fact if you are one of those who think the black middle class should stop complaining as they are beneficiaries of the new dispensation.
In fact, at one of the watering holes that I frequent in northern Johannesburg, I recently got into a conversation with quite a well-known fellow who one would assume is immune from the problems that are uniquely the reserve of us hoi polloi types, but the fellow was complaining and saying to me and the okes we were sharing a couple of pints with (it was double Klippies and coke for me, but don’t tell that to anyone else), that literally for the first time in his life, he was living from month to month.
Of course, because I am known as the “ANC cadre in the house” in all of these watering holes that I frequent in order to keep from thinking about my own problems (lest you also think I am living it up dear reader), in northern Johannesburg, eyes always turn to me to try and bring about some semblance of a sense of direction and normality to the current state of disaster that we are living in (twas so even without being declared, in case you were wondering), and to be honest, I have personally run out of excuses, spin, “giving context”, as a comrade, a cadre or wherever you want to locate me as an ANC activist and loyalist.
Contemporary South Africa, in its oligarchic nature, reminds me of the poem Les Effares by the 19th century Surrealist French poet, Arthur Rimbaud, which is a poem about five children from within the subalterns of society, hungrily peeking into a bakery. It is a humorous though poignant depiction of exclusion, poverty, hunger, marginalisation within society, all of which are common themes in contemporary SA, whilst political and business elites continue to develop bulging and protruding bellies:
“Dark against the snow and fog,
At the big lit-up vent,
Their butts in a huddle,
Five urchins, kneeling - wretched! -
Watch the baker making
Loaves of heavy blond bread.
They see the strong white arm knead
It and shove the raw dough
Into the oven's bright hole.
They hear the good bread baking,
The baker with a fat smile
Growling an old ditty.
They crouch there, not one budging,
At the red grating's breath
Just as warm as a breast.
When, shaped like buttery tarts
For some midnight party,
The bread is brought on out,
When, under smoke-stained beams,
The fragrant crusts are singing
Along with the crickets,
When life breathes out from that warm hole,
Their souls are so enraptured
Under their ragged clothes,
They feel such lively bliss, those
Poor frostbitten Jesuses,
That they all gather close
Gluing their pink little snouts
To the grating, mumbling
Such nonsense round about,
All foolish, at their prayers,
Hunkering toward that light
From heaven bright and fair,
So hard they split their pants,
And their shirt-tails flutter
In the winds of winter."
Whilst you are probably asking yourself why this ANC cadre is whining and whingeing in public, when he is obviously a part of the problem, my main point of departure is that apart from the pomp and ceremony, there was nothing about the SONA that gave me any hope and confidence about the future of the country, the direction we are going, au contraire Mr President, so forgive me if my alarm bells are ringing a tad later than yours on this issue.
I finished watching the SONA and like the officer of the palace guard in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, I found myself screaming to myself in my head, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”
Declaring a State of Disaster to deal with the electricity crisis is a sign of desperation, being out of your depth and having no solutions. I mean, is electricity the only major issue that is of crisis proportions in SA? What of murder and crime, profoundly germane with the murder of rapper AKA over the weekend? Gender based violence and femicide? Education and literacy rates in the country? Potholes and traffic lights? Water outages that are common and consistent? Joblessness, unemployment and unemployability of the majority? Do all of these require a state of disaster and a ministry of their own, a “project manager” as someone claimed the new Minister of Electricity would be?
There’s a beautiful and simple Zulu word that explains the state of affairs in contemporary SA, kuningi (it's/there's a lot, even though direct translations like this never do the word proper justice). You’ll have to forgive me for being gatvol (over it) this week, the SONA left me devastated, depleted and devoid of hope, contrary to what the president would have assumed given some of his words.
A mate of mine, who is a well-known ANC activist summed it up very well on social media after the SONA, “Nobody abuses the word 'Resilience' like an incompetent government.” I know you lot are probably uber shocked that it is me, the “incompetent, deployed cadre”, writing such things, but this is how I truly feel this week, after the SONA.
To end off with the words of deceased rapper AKA, from a social media post of his, “I am ANC through and through, but I need understanding and reassurance of what we stand for and where we are headed. Don’t be afraid to speak out…The ANC belongs to US. This is OUR ANC.”
Mugabe Ratshikuni works for the Gauteng provincial government; He is an activist with a passion for social justice and transformation. He writes here in his personal capacity.
