I have followed the University of the Free State hostel story with great interest since it began. And the issue has come into the news again after the University’s new VC Prof Jansen decided to pardon the perpetrators instead of punish them. It's a tricky balancing forgiveness with punishment - I guess this is something only God gets right.
Jansen's rationale for doing so didn’t entirely convince me. In fact, I found that the media in general haven’t got to grips with the issue properly. So I was very impressed with this article in today’s Star newspaper – originally from The Times in UK. Interesting that this insight comes from a journalist OUTSIDE South Africa. I haven’t seen anything like this in any media here, or maybe I just missed it.

I like the way McDougall’s article gives the cleaners’ side of the story, and how he looks at the home environments the students come from. And reading it finally shed light on why Jansen feels the problem is much much bigger – because racism is still very much an institution in some communities. Perhaps it helps that the writer is not surrounded by the issue and its connected emotions. Perhaps everyone here is getting so caught up in this that they haven’t got the perspective required to start solving this problem. What do you think?

Here's something fun to do: make fridge poetry out of newspaper headlines.

Cut out a whole bunch of words or phrases from a newspaper. Make sure you get a good selection of nouns, verbs, adjectives and don't forget those important words like a, the, of, is, for, from, so etc.

Then put them all together to make a poem. See my 5-minute attempt above.

I have been thinking a lot about who to vote for in the elections. This is only the second national election I'll have been able to vote in (was 17 in '99) and I have been putting a lot more effort this time into thinking about my vote than last time. More mature I guess, or perhaps it's because a lot of my job involves politics, mostly indirectly, like dealing with ward councillors and their various levels of competence. I also work with people who are very passionate about politics, so I suppose I have become more politically aware and interested recently.

Cope seemed exciting at the beginning, but now I am worried that they will turn out like the ANC, and i am not really impressed with their record of governing. I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure Cope supports affirmative action, and I am not prepared to vote for anyone who actually supports affirmative action. I think it's time for that to be dismantled. We need something better.

And after considering a few other parties, I came to a sad realisation. Much as I find the DA a bunch of whingers, I feel at this moment it is the party that best reflects my interests. And that's quite scary. Because I never thought I'd fall into the category of the white DA supporter. 'The white tribe' huddling together trying to hold on to what they have left.

My funny story about the white tribe:
This week, in preparation for the elections, my colleague and I decided to hit the streets to ask people whether they'll be voting, and why or why not, and who they will vote for (if they wish to tell). So anyway, Kate spoke to an old white man who was half deaf and as a result was shouting his answers to her in the middle of a busy shopping mall. He told her that the reason he was voting was 'to stop Zuma from getting in. I support the white tribe!' he shouted at the top of his voice. Kate was getting strange stares from the passersby in this rather trendy, liberal area, who probably thought she'd found the left-wing loony of the suburb! A red-faced Kate eventually managed to exit the conversation after having ascertained that he will be voting for the DA (no, not the VF!).

At any rate, I gladly acknowledge that the ANC has done a lot for SA, but in general, I think the ANC has failed both the country and me, and I am sad to have to say that this party will certainly not be getting my vote. But also realise that the other parties are lacking in many ways too.

So that's my predicament. Please feel free to set me on the path to political enlightenment.

Introduction

I started reading Mbeki's biography just after he was recalled because I realised that I actually knew very little about this man who ruled our country for almost 10 years. I wasn’t even sure whether to be glad or sad he was gone, so I wanted to read it to help me make up my mind!

At 800 pages, this thick, heavy book is certainly no weekend read but is very engrossing. Gevisser, the book’s author, writes very well – I found myself swept up in the story by his stirring and beautifully written prose, with which he has painted a detailed portrait of Mbeki. This is a linear history of Mbeki’s life that is cleverly interwoven with themes and motifs. There are parts that drag on and go into too much detail, but on the whole I found it as exciting as any novel. I enjoyed Part 1 the most, perhaps because Gevisser has done such a good job of evoking the world of Mbeki’s parents and ancestors. It was interesting to watch as the book unfolded how his past had such an influence on who he became.

The ‘dream deferred’ in the title comes from a poem by Langston Hughes which Mbeki cited in one of his speeches. Gevisser uses it to illustrate the conflict between the utopian ideals of a freedom fighter versus the reality once freedom has been won. Imagine spending spent so many years working towards liberation, only to realise that the job is not finished once you are in power. How do you begin to start fixing everything that is wrong? Thus the dream is conceded, put off, defeated. There is also this notion that Mbeki’s destiny was already a dream deferred – his father’s dream of freedom passed on, which Mbeki had to realise to finally come home.

What did I learn from this book? Many revelations…

ANC history:
I learnt a lot about the banned underground ANC from reading Long Walk to Freedom, but knew very little about the ANC in exile until I read this book. It was great to get another perspective on the party’s history. I also learned what a large role the SACP played in the struggle and I learned about key players in the movement that I had never really heard of.

Mbeki’s family:
I had heard of his parents, but knew very little about them.
I found

Mbeki’s mother such a poignant character. I had seen pictures of her before, and thought she seemed just a sweet little gogo, but I now know that she is so much more than that. She’s a tough, determined, intelligent woman who made many sacrifices for the struggle and for her family, someone who has also endured great pain and sadness with great strength.

I learned that Mbeki’s father Govan was a struggle stalwart imprisoned together with Mandela, Sisulu etc. He was a tireless workaholic who eventually forsook his blood family for his political family. I can’t judge him too harshly for that – I guess it shows how hard he fought for what he believed in, and everything else paled in comparison.

Mbeki’s younger brother Jama disappeared while in exile in Botswana, and his son Kwanda also disappeared as a young man. Neither were ever found, and even post-apartheid investigations drew blanks. They were eventually presumed dead. This must have affected Mbeki deeply, even though this intensely private man only ever spoke about it twice publicly. His mother never got the closure of a burial, proper time of mourning or justice for whoever killed them, which meant she has never got over their deaths.

The photos above are of Mbeki (top), Jama (left) and Kwanda (right). Strong family likeness.
Mbeki's mother is below, outside Mbewuleni.

Mbeki’s AIDS stance:
As an intellectual with a critical, questioning mind, Mbeki has always been attracted to alternative theories. So when he discovered documents disputing the link between HIV and AIDS, he started researching, and became convinced that AIDS was a conspiracy by big pharmaceutical companies to control Africa by keeping Africans enslaved to their expensive AIDS treatment drugs. He acknowledged the existence of HIV, but believed that because of their living conditions poor people were more susceptible to AIDS-related illnesses like TB – hence the ‘poverty causes AIDS’ statement. He believed that it was important to get to the root of the problem if Africa was ever to be free, and that Africa needed to find its own solutions – the whole African renaissance idea. As an economist, Mbeki chose a Marxist reading of the AIDS crisis over a biological one. Gevisser feels that Mbeki chose to ignore the role of sexual promiscuity in AIDS because of the stigma attached to it, and his fear that if it true, it would prove that Africans really are just sexually promiscuous savages, as their colonial oppressors believed.

I think its important that Mbeki acknowledged the poverty angle - subsequent research has shown the definite link between poverty and AIDS – but I think he took too much of a one dimensional view of it. His paranoia clouded his judgement and caused a lot of time to be wasted while people died without treatment.

Mbeki’s writing:
Mbeki is certainly a gifted and prolific writer. He wrote much of the ANC’s communication and in fact wrote many of Mandela’s speeches. He took a very literary approach to many of his speeches, including quotes and themes from poets, philosophers and historians.

Mbeki’s relationship with Mugabe:
In the early 80s the ANC made a deal with the newly elected ZANU in Zimbabwe to allow the ANC to move weapons through Zim into SA. Mbeki had played a big role in negotiating this deal with their leader Mugabe, and the two men subsequently developed a close relationship of mutual respect. So when Zim situation started going downhill, Mbeki was reluctant to criticize Mugabe out of his loyalty to Zimbabwe for its help in the ANC’s in time of need. It was this relationship that created the dilemma: how do you tell your father he is wrong? And so Mbeki continued his quiet diplomacy, perhaps in part because of his whole African renaissance dream of finding African solutions to African problems. He probably felt that allowing others to intervene would destroy the dream.

I see Mbeki’s position, but unfortunately there’s only so long you can hope for the situation to rectify itself, and at the end of the day think his stubborn pride got in the way of a solution for Zim.

Mbeki’s relationship with Mandela:
I used to think that everything between Mandela and his deputies was hunky-dory, but after reading Long Walk I realised that he disagreed a lot with de Klerk, and in this book it appears that he and Mbeki didn’t get on so well either. The two men shared Eastern Cape roots but were very different: Mandela was royal, Mbeki the son of working class parents; Mandela a compassionate lawyer, Mbeki a pragmatic economist; Mandela had spent 27 years imprisoned (exiled) in his own country while Mbeki had spent 27 years in exile outside SA. And they were from different generations. So they had very different views on how the newly democratic country should be governed.

Mandela focused his presidency on the country’s morale. His goal was reconciliation, trying to build unity in a fractured society. Mbeki felt that this was not enough to build a nation – economic reform was also needed. When he became president this was exactly what he did, and his economic policies made the economy grow drastically.

Mandela’s term was a time of great optimism – think post-election euphoria, Bafana Bafana’s victory, world cup rugby victory and a general buoyant mood. A time of slightly awkward yet touchy-feely embrace. By the time Mbeki came into power we had sunk to earth, with many people disillusioned about still being jobless and homeless five years after they’d been ‘saved’. So Mbeki was tasked with rebuilding - not the emotional but economic wellbeing - of his homeland. And this was no touchy-feely time. Tough issues had to be dealt with and many people yearned for the optimism of the Madiba age. But I feel that each man was in power at the right time – for these two approaches really work hand in hand. I believe that at the very least both men should be given credit for their roles in building a nation.

One of the things that vexed Mbeki was that despite the role of countless others in the liberation struggle, Mandela somehow became the focus of world attention and was seen internationally as a saint and THE hero of the liberation struggle. Along with this came the notion that Mandela could do no wrong – he was the ‘one good native’ of Africa, and all other African leaders were pretty much rubbish. This was a stigma that Mbeki constantly tried to shake off during his presidency and was why he reacted badly to criticism of his ability – he saw it as a reflection of the ‘one good native’ syndrome.

I do feel quite sorry for Mbeki having to take over from such a revered person as Mandela. In comparison with a charismatic person, anyone would seem boring and cold, and this is exactly how the media portrayed Mbeki, and what I came to believe he was. However, the book paints a very different picture of him – he was a gregarious, sociable fun-loving man with many friends and a magnetic personality. The thing about him was that this was also part of his wiliness - he managed to use these gifts to charm many people to support him and the ANC during apartheid. He became known as the ‘seducer’, luring many prominent Afrikaners to believe in a non-white government. Later on some of these people became disenchanted because what they felt had been a genuine friendship with him seemed to disappear the minute he got what he wanted - they had been mere political pawns. Stories like this make you realise that while some see him as an innocent victim in his own axing, Mbeki was just as good at political maneuvering as his opponents - including Zuma.

Mbeki's relationship with Zuma:
I never realised that once upon a time Mbeki and Zuma actually got on well and worked closely together. The book tells how in the end their rivalry got in the way of their relationship and resulted in a nasty power struggle. The legacy of this brutal rivalry is still being felt today, with Zuma supporters claiming Zuma is innocent and was framed by Mbeki, while Mbeki supporters still insist Zuma is guilty as sin. And quite frankly there doesn’t seem enough evidence to help me make up my mind on the issue. Much as I find Zuma rather creepy, uneducated and unsuitable as a president, I can’t pronounce him guilty just because I don’t really like him. Of course, my knowledge of Zuma also comes from the media, and they are known to have their own agendas too. So I’ve found it very hard to get an objective view on the whole Zuma issue.

Coming home

The book refers throughout to Mbeki’s sense of dislocation, a sense that he didn’t really have a home. After being sent away from home at such a young age, and a life lived in so many different places, even when Mbeki was finally ‘home’, he battled to feel connected again. It was only many years later that he seemed to really come home I a ‘spiritual’ sense.

Mbeki’s hidden social side came out during his 2004 election campaign, in which he walked the streets and visited common people in their homes. He laughed, he cried, he talked, he engaged with them. And they began to see him not as an aloof and inaccessible intellectual, but as a real person who cared about their welfare. I believe this was more than just a publicity stunt and that he genuinely did care for them. It showed his heart, the heart for his people that began beating all those years ago as a young boy growing up amongst poor, rural, uneducated people. And it was just after that year’s election victory and he was sworn in for his second term that he told Gevisser how he thought the country had changed, become more integrated. But Gevisser wondered whether it was the country, or Mbeki himself, that had really changed. Mbeki said that he now felt an inner peace, best expressed by the German word ‘stille’. It seemed to Gevisser then, that at last Mbeki had managed to shrug off his sense of dislocation and had truly come home. I found that part really profound – it was as if finally the dream was no longer deferred, that Mbeki had fought for his country’s freedom and finally won his own.

My verdict

The book gives a balanced account of Mbeki’s life using many sources but is by no means an unflattering portrait. While it does say a number of negative things about Mbeki, it’s overwhelmingly positive in its portrayal. In fact it makes you feel quite sympathetic, even affectionate, towards him. I guess this is partly because there was a lot of sadness in his life – his parent’s break-up, his father’s distant affection, being sent away to school at a young age, his brother’s and son’s disappearances, his sense of rootlessness, his mother struggling on her own in a little rural town for so many years etc.

But I also took what I read with a pinch of salt. Although as an author writing a biography you try to be objective, when you spend 8 years writing about a person, you’re bound to develop an attachment which will add a certain bias to your writing. I suppose no writer can be truly unbiased. Eyewitness accounts are fallible too, as Gevisser tells how people’s memories of Mbeki in some situations differed vastly – no doubt clouded by their own perceptions of him.

Perhaps it was Gevissers persuasive prose, the book made me like Mbeki. He certainly has his flaws, but he doesn’t seem to be seduced by fame and money like so many politicians – it seems like he really desires to serve his people. After reading this book, I wanted to give him a standing ovation. I think he deserves more recognition than he got for what he did for SA.

So am I sad he’s gone? Well in a way yes, if purely because I have no idea whether Zuma will make a better or worse president than him, and that uncertainty is scary. All I ever hear about the man are negative things, but I know he has also done some good things, so I’d like to find out for myself who he really is. I’m keen to read his new biography – it may answer my questions. Yes, I think that will be the next book on my list.

Brief summary of Mbeki’s life (if you’re interested)

The Mbekis come from a long line of Christian educated black people. Mbeki’s paternal great-grandparents were Mfengus, some of the first Christian coverts in the Eastern Cape, while his maternal great-grandparents were prosperous, educated land owners in the region. His parents Epainette and Govan, both teachers, met in Durban where they were working and heavily involved in Communist politics and later the ANC. They decided to move back to the rural Eastern Cape so they could mobilise rural people to the liberation movement, and they opened a small shop in the town of Mbewuleni. Mbeki, the second of four children, was born here.

He attended the local village school, and then stayed with his uncle in Queenstown for a year, after which he completed his schooling at Lovedale. He was known as a bright, conscientious high achiever, but there was no impression of him being a leader. Because of his involvement in a school protest, he was expelled in his matric year and completed his year by correspondence at home.

During this time he also fathered a son called Kwanda with a local girl, Olive Mpahlwa, but because his family couldn’t pay lobola they couldn’t get married and Kwanda was brought up by Olive and her family. His parents’ marriage had broken down because his father’s political life had always taken precedence over his family, and so Govan moved to PE while his wife remained in Mbewuleni.

Mbeki then moved to Johannesburg to complete his A levels, where the ANC recognised his leadership potential and managed to arrange a scholarship for him to study in UK. He wanted to go to the traditional Oxford or Cambridge but they sent him to the new progressive Sussex university in Brighton, which he was initially unhappy about, but soon settled down happily. He obtained his degree in economics and economic history and then his masters.

While in UK, he met Oliver Tambo who was living in exile in London and who became his lifelong friend, mentor and father figure. Mbeki was also a member of the communist party. After studying communism in Russia along with other ANC and SACP people, he was posted to Zambia, Swaziland and then Nigeria. Later on, he was heavily involved with the movement in exile in Zambia, before finally going back to South Africa in 1990 when the ANC was unbanned. He became deputy president in 1994, and was president from 1999 to 2008.

More info:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thabo_Mbeki

What a momentous day. I almost can’t believe this really happened. I remember when I was younger we used to wonder if the US would ever have a black president. Back then, given the political situation in USA, we doubted we’d see it in our lifetime. And yet here we are now! Yes we can! The slogan may be cheesy, but it does make you want to rise up and believe that anything is possible.

But at the end of the day it matters not what the colour of the new guy’s skin is. All that matters is whether he can do the job required of him. I can only imagine what it feels like to be American right now. It must feel good. Really good. To be so full of hope for a fresh start after your last president kinda messed up a lot. I hope that they won’t be let down this time.

Today, December 16th, we celebrate Reconciliation Day in South Africa. Before ‘94 this public holiday was known as the Day of the Vow, and it commemorated the Boers’ victory over the Zulus at the very bloody battle of Blood River in 1838. It is also the day on which Umkhonto we Sizwe (armed wing of ANC) was founded 47 years ago in 1961. So I think it’s great that instead of the day being remembered for violence against another race, we now celebrate being able to come together and put aside our differences.

And how fitting it was that I just spent this afternoon at a braai with black people! My colleague Thabo invited a bunch of us to a braai at his place, and aside from another coloured colleague, I was the only other non-black person there. And I had a good time. On my way home I realised that I had just spent the day doing what I wouldn’t have been able to do 20 years ago. I am so grateful for how far we have come. I drove back home in the cool evening with the last tinges of pink sunset in the sky, past mine dumps and rugged koppies and I thought, this is why I love SA.

Mumblers really irritate me. One of my colleagues has this annoying way of mumbling when he speaks. Now it would be different if he had a speech impediment. I have plenty of patience for people with speech impediments. But the simple truth is he just doesn’t open his mouth when he talks. And so I’m the one left feeling like the idiot for continually going ‘pardon’, ‘excuse me’ or ‘sorry’ in conversations with him. I just want to say “Open your mouth! Pronounce! Annunciate!” It can really get trying at times. Maybe mumblers are my grace growers. I dunno!

I feel like the last couple of weeks have been full of complete changes, not only in South African politics, but in my own life too. And the only word I can use to describe this all, is “wrenching”.

Let’s start with Mbeki’s sudden departure. One week he was our president and the next week he wasn’t. Just like that. We were expecting it to happen in April, but somehow I just wasn’t prepared for his untimely exit. I felt cheated in some way. I don’t agree with everything he’s done, but I have a lot of respect for him, and what he’s achieved in this country. I thought he at least deserved the proper farewell he would have received when leaving office next year. So I felt rather sad that it had to end this way.

And then there was my job. I hadn’t been feeling very happy in my job for the last couple of months, and my bosses was becoming harder and harder to deal with. I wasn’t working as hard as I could have, but I guess I just lost interest somehow. So I started looking for a new job. I went to one interview and the next day I was offered the job. At first I wasn’t sure if I should take it, cos I started having doubts… was I ready to leave yet? But then I thought: what if the time comes when I really wanna leave but nothing comes up? So I decided to take the plunge. I gave in my 2 weeks notice, and here I am, working as a journalist at a local newspaper!

It all happened so fast I still feel quite disorientated. It sort of doesn’t feel real! Leaving my old job was hard because it felt like I was wrenching myself away, and I’ll really miss the people I worked with, but I suppose you can’t be too sentimental about these things. I can’t turn back now, so I’ll have to make the most of this new opportunity! I can already tell that this new job is gonna be pretty manic, but I think it will be better then being bored like I was (being bored at work is nice for a while, but then it just gets… boring! Haha). And hopefully I’ll get to meet lots of interesting people.

So this has all been pretty crazy, and at times makes no sense! All I know is that the Lord has a plan, and perfect timing!

I heard a blast from the past today – remember World in Union from the Rugby World Cup in 1995? PJ Powers and Ladysmith Black Mambazo? Wow! Gotta be one of my all-time favourites.

And boy, it brought back so many memories!

Of Madiba in the number 6 jersey.

Of everyone rejoicing in our victory.

Of the resulting hope and unity and optimism that sprang from it what was probably the biggest moment of national pride we’d ever felt as a newly democratic country.

I remember the feeling that started to awaken – that SA was alive with possibility, that we could do anything, go anywhere with this potential. That was echoed in the lyrics of the song:

There's a dream, I feel
So rare, so real
All the world in union
The world as one

Gathering together
One mind, one heart
Every creed, every colour
Once joined, never apart

It's the world in union
The world as one
As we climb to reach our destiny
A new age has begun

Searching for the best in me
I will find what I can be
If I win, lose or draw
There's a winner in us all

We may face high mountains
Must cross rough seas
We must take our place in history
And live with dignity

Just to be the best I can
Sets the goal for every man
If I win, lose or draw
It's a victory for all

It's the world in union
The world as one
As we climb to reach our destiny
A new age has begun

Ah man! It's slightly cheesy, but always gives me goosebumps. I just wish we could feel as optimistic as a nation now as we did back then.

Oh, and the last memory is of singing World in Union in a massed choir event at school, where a whole bunch of choirs from neighbouring schools pitched up to perform the song with us. Standing there on stage singing it with what must have been at least 300 other teenagers was an awesome moment – and the sound was spine-tingling! I’ll never forget it.

What is it about heavy metal music that some people love so much? I absolutely can't stand it. Now I enjoy quite a wide variety of music, and will even tolerate most music I don't even like, but I simply cannot bear heavy metal. Just to clarify, I'm not referring to what some people call hard rock. No, I'm talking about the type of music dominated by loud grinding guitars and a very angry male screaming the lyrics. Well if you can call it music.

I'm not saying that the people who play this type of music are not musicians. I'm sure that playing your guitar very fast and very loud, and screaming till your throat is sore require a lot of skill.

No seriously, I'm sure that what they do requires as much practice and dedication as other musicians, but I just fail to see the attraction. Maybe if you are a person with a lot to be angry about, this music really 'speaks' to you. I dunno. I am not an angry person at all, so this music just makes me stressed and uptight because it disagrees with my spirit. I'm not trying to be sensational, but it really sounds demonic. My boss listens to this music all the time, and he says it relaxes him (???). I don't know how, but anyway.

Maybe someone can shed some light on this matter for me?