Scars and all, we are one

ONE morning earlier this year I decided to attend the Proteas v Sri Lanka match that was played in East London. It was the first big cricket match I had ever attended and the atmosphere was electrifying.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. At least from where I was seated, there was this unspoken welcoming hand from white people, you know, more like stretched out to welcome their black counterparts to the game of cricket that was previously the bastion of white South Africans.

We all cheered and celebrated the best strikes by the likes of Graham Smith, Hashim Amla and others. The mood was even made special by those guys, white and black, carrying empty beer cups with a note around their necks: “Please donate a beer”. We all laughed as we donated our pints of beer to the “beggars”.

South Africa won the match and we celebrated even more but only for a short while as we had to head home. But an after party was scheduled to take place later that evening at Hemingways Mall. Enthused by the grand atmosphere earlier that day, my friends and I decided we would attend the after party. I mean, I had attended a dozen after parties while living in Pretoria and they were all good for entertainment and this one couldn’t be that different I told myself.

We arrived at the venue that night and understandably it was dominated by whites in terms of numbers. There were a significant number of blacks as well though; I thought maybe it was because DJ Fresh was playing at the venue that night. I didn’t have any funny feeling about this demographic disproportionality, as I have been exposed to it before without any problems. So we bought our tickets at an exorbitant price. I had a silly feeling that the cost of the tickets was meant to price out blacks from attending the party. But what the heck! Let’s get in!

Inside, music was buzzing and the mood seemed electrifying. The demographics were still the same as outside, but this time complemented by what seemed like separate dancing groups. Most whites danced on the one side with very few blacks around them; and a small group of blacks danced on the opposite side with very few whites around them. This must have come naturally out of preference in terms of who you wanted to dance around with, I thought.

We decided to go buy drinks to join the party properly. I had already made up my mind that I would dance on both sides just to try and influence the divide.

At the counter my worst nightmare befell me. Besides the fact that only white guys were selling the booze while blacks were told to fetch this or that drink, or collect bottles, there was something else that bothered me.

We called for one white dude to sell us booze. He just ignored us preferring to concentrate on the other side full of whites. I didn’t mind this at first so I approached the second dude to sell us beer. To my amazement, this dude called on the white chicks that were behind us, asking if they needed something.

By now I was livid! I tried the next dude and the next dude but to no avail. They were all concentrating on serving whites first, irrespective of the first-come firstserved rule that is an unwritten law at any selling place.

At this point, I thought of the atmosphere at the stadium earlier that day. How could I be so fooled to even think that whites were welcoming to blacks, I thought to myself. Was it most whites who would do this or just a bunch of white dudes like these in front me? I wondered.

I was now seething with rage. I was thinking of all the sacrifices we as black people made just to ensure that we are able to live together as one nation. I felt my dignity being torn apart by a bunch of barmen trying to show me that they were superior as a race. This ordeal went on for about 40 minutes and that’s when I decided to give up.

I left the counter feeling sick and contemplating leaving the party. My friends convinced me to stay as they persevered at the counter while I went out to catch some air.

My convictions were being tested to the limits here. Non-racialism, what is that anyway? I started asking myself whether this country has committed white people who dream of living together with other national groups under one race group – the human race.

Going back inside, I started making radical decisions about my political outlook and my attitude to the question of race relations in South Africa. Then boom! To my surprise, my friends were enjoying their beer in the company of some newlyfound white “friends”. Across from our table was a group of white chicks dancing with a group of black dudes. How was I supposed to relate to this situation?

I was still feeling very angry – not only with those white dudes at the counter but now also with my friends. How could they hang out with white dudes after such a humiliating experience at the hands of white barmen? I was ready to show a face of discomfiture towards my friends but as I arrived, I noticed a genuine appreciation of each other’s company between my friends and their newly-found white friends.

That confused me a bit as I now didn’t know how to react towards them. As I was preparing my approach, one white dude suddenly called me by my name and introduced himself.

I was shocked but quickly thought that my friends must have told them my name. I wondered whether my friends had told them the story of the silly barmen. But that subject seemed to fade as we chatted about the game, girls and booze.

The following day I was not sure whether I should feel angry about the barmen incident. I mean, yes it happened and I hated every bit of it. But I felt more of myself again that morning: a non-racial democrat with a deep sense of political militancy. Also, the fact that I went to sleep last night after having enjoyed myself to the fullest, bar the barmen incident, with a very nice bunch of white dudes, made me delve deeper into the question of race relations in this country.

I concluded that the disturbing barmen incident and my experience with that bunch of funny and nice white dudes was a microcosm of the broader societal contradiction we face.

The human osmosis and intercourse that has taken place between the different races in this country since 1994 is no small development. My belief in a contradictory and spiral web-like development process was thus affirmed.

Even though there are those stiff necks that would rather die racist, there is a big group of other people who are prepared to move with the times and who understand that in the final analysis, we are all human beings. Yes, it will not be an easy process to change the deeply entrenched and institutionalised racial stereotypes. Just like naturally giving birth to a child, it’s never a painless undertaking.

The labour and the birth pains are what we are currently experiencing as a country. However, as the birth of a newborn child is celebrated, the birth of a nonracial society will be celebrated by all.

Needless to say, the mother – our country – will bear all the hallmarks of a child bearer. She will have scars, extra or less weight, exhaustion but above all, she will be filled with unquestionable joy. She will be nurtured, her scars rubbed with soothing ointment until she becomes her normal self again. She will look beautiful and full of life and promise again. Everyone will look up to her with a sense of awe and reverence. Above all, she will be alive with possibilities! Mzukisi Makatse is an ANC and ANCYL member. He writes in his personal capacity