Patch-worked together, sewing hope, stitch by stitch
IN RECENT weeks I’ve seen and heard countless people saying they are ashamed to be South African.
This as xenophobia flared up in parts of the country, resulting in seven dying just because they were not natural South Africans, and thousands being displaced.
I refuse to be ashamed of being South African.
Embarrassed, yes, by the shame those responsible for these horrific attacks on our African brothers and sisters have brought on South Africa. And I am angry. But not ashamed. Never. And here’s why.
On Tuesday, South Africa smashed a Guinness World Record at the Union Buildings in Pretoria by creating the largest handmade blanket – at 3 133m² it is three times the size of the previous record-holding blanket.
The record, impressive as it may be, is not as important though as what it symbolises: thousands of South Africans who came together to knit, crochet or quilt blankets by hand for the needy, as part of the 67 Blankets for Nelson Mandela Day campaign.
The stitching together of the thousands of blankets – including two I’d submitted along with more than 100 others from Nelson Mandela Bay – is symbolic. As we approach Freedom Day on Monday, it’s symbolic of those who have come together to pull off this amazing feat and of what could be achieved on a much larger scale if all those living in South Africa worked together.
People from all walks of life, of all races, men, women and children had been working together, stitch by stitch, towards one goal. There were no black women or white men, no Xhosas or Afrikaners, no Zimbabweans or Somalis.
Just people wanting to provide a blanket this winter to as many as possible of those less fortunate than themselves.
Closer to home, on the same day, some Nelson Mandela Bay residents expressed their disgust at being South African following the abduction and brutal murder of schoolteacher Jayde Panayiotou. Again, I am angry at those who robbed a family of a daughter, sister and wife and a community of a teacher.
My disgust, too, is directed at them. They deserve the label. I do not.
Yes, I noticed the naysayers on social media quick to point out that had this been a black person, the same effort would not have gone into finding her.
But they were outnumbered by all those who prayed for Jayde’s safe return, by those who offered words of support to her family, those who hardly slept on Tuesday night as they worried about Jayde, those who marched in her memory on Wednesday night.
Ryno de Villiers, who has seen it all in his 23 years as a policeman, said he had never been as affected by a crime as he was by Jayde’s murder.
But he also said that “irrespective of the final outcome of this, we all must realise the importance of standing together as humans. Let us not allow criminals like these to break our spirit.”
It is when I see sentiments like that, almost hidden, buried, in all the negativity, that I see hope for my beloved country.
And that is why I can never afford to be ashamed of being, or disgusted to be, South African.