We wonder what kind of man Malema will become

IN TRYING times, we all tend to lose our psychological, our moral vertigo somewhat, or fervently so. Big time.

Hi, Mr Malema! We have trying times right now. A sinking economy. Rudderless. Hordes of suffering people. Scheming politicians. Some truthfully longing for a humane future. Some pursuing sickening selfish avenues. Mistrust, knee-jerk reactions to opposing views.

Opportunism. Anger layered in history lingering into the present. Disappointment. Stomach stuff. Those we have trusted in abundance seem to have feet of clay slipping into superficial rivers of greed. People all over theorising partitioned, decaying concepts to be some kind of final “Truth”.

No one really knowing the core theme of ominous, dark flowing rivers. A guessing game. Yours or mine? What is the truth that exceeds all subjectivity?

I want to quote a saying from the amazing author Niall Ferguson, “Availability bias, which causes us to base decisions on information that is more readily available in our memories rather than the data that we really need”.

A paradox. Way beyond a mere psychological wish for “congruity”, fighting a compromised equilibrium, we need a kind of pure redemption. Most people in this beloved country have experienced so many levels of neglect, viciousness, depravity, disregard that the anger, disappointment, mistrust will not subside for a very long time. A very long time. If left unattended to.

And that is the danger. We read reality, life with clouded, emotive spectacles. Misjudgement, in such a complexed conglomerate of experienced emotions, is a tragic possibility. Historic pain vested in our souls, our loins, urges a longing for human dignity in the whirlpool that keeps showering us with shallow human farces preventing real closure.

If you, if I, bulldoze our past – painful experiences to be the only authentic handbook to handle, to interpret unfolding societal structures, the palate of human beings different to ourselves – you, me, will hand out another round of cruelty. Sadness. Sadness. And apart from some pathological figures that will become thrilled beyond measure, you will in time have to sit down to the quiet voice of reason, of empathetic reasoning and protest that will question the cheap waves that we leap into to try covering up our over-simplified views.

There was a movie, Fiddler on the Roof. The protagonist, Tevye (the actor Topol), had to deal with his daughters wanting to marry guys not fitting his perception of the ways of substantial culture. Every time, in context, he excused himself to think about the unasked-for complexities his daughters presented to his honest, searching soul.

There he was. Advocate for both possibilities of being. Trying to be fair, trying to be kind. Trying to understand the ways that real life presents itself to a mere struggling human being.

It was not an easy courtroom that he walked his soul into. This way. That way.

A mere human hand leading a trembling soul through the abyss possibilities of being human. But he, he had to walk his querying talk.

I promise you one thing. Whatever construct you portray to be the way into the future will in due time come back to you in the reflection of some awaiting mirror. Two years, 10 years, 20 years into the future that mirror will convey the essence of your eyes. Whether you have sweated with complexity that leaves no cheap way for simplistic or shrewd proclamations. Or, on the other hand, whether you have walked with disregard for the essence of your own soul. And your children’s.

Mr Malema, with the easy way that the political upper echelon professes their lack of integrity, they will kill the future of a country and cover it up with party loyalty with, sadly, inhumane disregard of real suffering people. Yes, their talk will be different. Proclaiming some kind of high ground.

But they are killing the future of hopeless children, sir. They deem loyalty more important than a country’s people. Don’t you do the same. I sincerely hope that you will think twice about some of your recent irresponsible, though vote-courting statements. History holds it breath to see whether you will walk tall, or pursue the understandable populist expressions of anger, but not really thinking about the consequences for children of all colours yet to be born.

You don’t want to bring them pain, sir? Or do you too don’t give a damn?

Your personal mirror image awaits you. Ten years from now. Twenty. We wonder what kind of man you will become? We wonder Mr Malema?

History wonders too? In time, history will know whether you have walked the high road or the low road.