Things that really matter in keeping it together for South Africa’s future.
Love them or hate them, but current events have
demonstrated how deeply ingrained the ANC has become in South African society.
In many respects we are like a one party state, and the trauma that that party
experiences, reverberates through all walks of life. Its leadership transition
has created as much uncertainty and anticipation as the country experienced in
the heady days of the early 90’s.
But these events have shown something else:
·
How easily power corrupts;
·
how fickle and fragile it is when it is based on
patronage and loyalties shift from a weakened patron;
·
how effective opposition can be even without
parliamentary power;
·
how political opponents can unite against a
common threat;
·
how strong civil society can be when it says “so
far and no further”, and
·
the supreme value of being guided by a
Constitution supported by an independent judiciary and law enforcement.
The Jacob Zuma gravy train has been derailed. It may take
a while for the carnage and broken corrupt carriages to be cleared, but history
will reflect on these times as a painful evolutionary hiccup and stark
cautionary case study. For that alone, 2018 has become a turning point and a
year to celebrate even in its infancy.
As many commentators have opined, there’s certainly a lot
more hope for a better future. But that does not mean there’s more trust.
Indeed, the political uncertainty; corporate scandals; a still unacceptably
high crime rate; increasing revelations of corruption, arrests and charges
being laid, and the economic quagmire we find ourselves in, have all
contributed to deepening distrust. We already have one of the world’s lowest
levels of trust in institutions such as government; business; NGO’s and the
Media; as ranked by the 2018 Global
trust Barometer.
One could also argue that with none of these institutions
being fully trusted, and because trust is one of the most significant factors
holding a society together, we should be a dysfunctional society. Yet we are
not. Only ultra-cynics, or some disgruntled ex-pats who lose touch with the day
to day lives of ordinary folk, will argue otherwise. I fully appreciate that
there are many of us, including myself, who have been affected, even traumatised
by crime, betrayal, poor service, and of course the daily headlines that constantly
highlight our capacity to do others harm. But we go on, sustained I believe, by the
number of benevolent acts that we experience more often than malevolence, and a
pool of goodwill that despite everything, still exists between us.
Perhaps it’s the metaphor, but I am drawn to reflecting
on another train.
Let’s go back a month or so, and to the maize farming
town of Hennenman, where a full passenger train was
derailed after crashing into a truck at a level crossing. More than 20
people died and about 200 were injured. Within minutes a handful of local folk
rushed to help, saving many lives amid anguished screams from passengers trapped
in carriages. Among the rescuers were two
pre-teen boys – Mokoni Chaka and Evert du Preez – who have a firm
friendship oblivious to racial differences, and who helped evacuate the
injured, including quite a few infants. They created the perfect cameo not only
of humanity’s instinctive empathy at an early age, but how what is most
important to our survival bridges any differences between us.
A few weeks earlier, I too was hit by a train. It happened
at a level crossing next to a settlement called Dutoitsrus in Buffeljagsriver
near Swellendam. I had stopped at the crossing, but edged closer because of an
obstructed view of the track. Then there was a deafening hoot just before I saw
hundreds of tons of steel hurtling towards me.
Nothing I have experienced comes close to that
split-second of paralysing terror. Fortunately I was not too far into the goods-train’s
path and it hit the front left fender, spinning the car out of its way to end
on an embankment next to a huge blue-gum tree. The train had stopped and I got
out of the car. I was not hurt and within seconds was surrounded by many
residents – mostly teens and youngsters. I sensed only genuine concern in their
curiosity, and had no thoughts that I could be harmed. It’s strange how we
often legitimately trust a moment, and then only later question the wisdom of
it, mostly on the prompting of others.
Confusion! What does one do when you’ve stopped a train?
Get details. Of what I don’t know, but I found a scrap of paper. One young man
offered to testify on my behalf that the train had not hooted until it was upon
me. But I could not write down his name, having committed a journalist’s
cardinal sin of not having a pen. Then I felt a tug on the leg of my pants, and
a boy not much older than four offered me his prized possession of a pencil
stub. I wrote down the number of the train and name of the “witness” before
putting the pencil stub back in my shirt pocket. There was another tug – and an
outstretched tiny hand asking for the return of the pencil-stub.
Soon I was surrounded by railway forensic staff and I
suspect most of the police contingent at Swellendam. The crowd too had swelled,
while crime scene tape was stretched for hundreds of meters around the train
and surrounding area. An elderly lady offered me some mineral water, and soon
thereafter another on crutches offered me half a bottle of coke. “For the
sugar,” she said. I can’t remember how many people approached me with offers of
help. I can only remember the genuine warmth and concern around me, including
police and railway staff.
There are many things that made the event memorable,
apart from the rarity of being hit by a train on a scarcely used line. Among
them was the fact that the car had minor damage and I could drive it away,
while the train was stuck for 5 hours to undergo repairs to its steel sweeper.
For a while, friends and close acquaintances called me the “train stopper”.
Fortunately that passed before some village joker was tempted to ask: “Did he
really need a car to do that?” But what will linger for the rest of my life is
how those folk at Dutoitsrus confirmed my deep faith in humanity and its
capacity to care.
In the larger scheme of things and the current turmoil,
these reflections may appear counter-intuitive and perhaps even trivial. Not so
when one considers how many thousands of times they are repeated in different ways
throughout society. As long as we have that and continue to demonstrate it, it
outweighs all else in holding our society together.