GREY MUTTER lance fredericks Unity in my own camp

VERY early in our lives we are taught to take sides. In primary school I learned to embrace the idea that boys were better than girls. The girls of course would recite their mantra: “Girls rule, boys drool”. Of course they were wrong. Boys were cool and girls were fools – everyone knew that.

During our physical education classes – yes, back then healthy lungs and flowing blood was part of our schooling – we would often be divided into teams to compete in different sporting contests. My team was always the best and I would do my utmost to get the better of our (yes “OUR”) opponents.

I also learned to cheer for the cricket and rugby teams to which my dad belonged. I knew (yes, “KNEW”) that Universal Rugby Football Club and Universal

Cricket Club were the best teams in the city. Occasionally a team from Transvaal, Natal or the Cape would invade Kimberley, and then all my allegiance switched, for as long as was necessary, to Griquas; until my Griqua team (yes, “MY TEAM”) had dealt with the foreign invasion.

And in cricket when players from other teams (teams I usually despised) joined Universals to deal with the enemy as a united Griqualand West, then and only then would I support them.

At high school and onward the influence of friends and the desire for peer recognition placed me in the camp of Manchester United. It was also around that period that the West Indian cricket team had players like Gordon Greenidge, Desmond Haynes, Viv Richards, Curtley Ambrose, Joel Garner and Carl Hooper (to name but six); and I embraced them and included them in my camp. Meanwhile, Ferrari was doing amazing things on the track thanks to a fantastic V12 engine and a certain Michael Schumacher, and I embraced them too.

Of course if anyone supported any other team, they – along with their filthy team – were my enemies! I was very loyal.

But it wasn’t only sport for which I had reserved camps. I was born into a specific racial group and therefore my people (yes, “MY PEOPLE”) were the smartest and yet the most marginalised. I also became more aware of religion, and embraced the fact that my religion, denomination and congregation was far superior to others out there … I was on a good wicket, the world was starting to make sense.

I was passionate, protective and fanatical about my camps, and in the same breath committed to the destruction (figuratively speaking) of the other camps and their supporters.

Then in 1999 there was that fateful semi-final where Lance Klusener attempted that quick single and Allan Donald dropped his bat. I watched the Australians celebrate on the field and in the stands and thought, “Well, at least someone is happy today!”

That got me thinking. We get so obsessed with our little groupings, sub-divisions and camps that we forget that we are a species (yes “SPECIES”) and we ultimately – whether we want to believe it or not – depend on each other for our happiness, prosperity and even survival. Perhaps our biggest problem has always been that we get so obsessed with our cliques that we reject the fact that outside of our factions there could be people who have differing opinions.

Our country’s old motto … “Unity is strength” puts a picture in my mind (yes “MY MIND”) of clans huddling together into camps, each making sure that their camp is united and more powerful than the others – race versus race, country versus country and culture versus culture. Perhaps that wasn’t the intention, but history has probably tarnished my objectivity.

However, our new motto “!ke e: / xarra //ke” is worth consideration, because maybe, just maybe we can get somewhere if our “Diverse people unite”.