ED’S LETTER

Iwasn’t in South Africa when Uyinene Mrwetyana was so brutally raped and murdered. But when I heard about her death, my first thought was: it’s over. I don’t know how we ever come back from this – not only as women, but also as a country. How can it not be safe for a woman to go to the post office? How can we continue to live in a country where such a horrific thing could happen?

And that’s pretty much how I felt right up to the point that I actually set foot in SA again. There was a man in the passport queue talking loudly on his cellphone – and then to the room in general – about how much he hated South Africa; how clever he was to have left (he was only back because he had to finish off a job here, apparently, otherwise he would ‘never set foot in this sh*thole of a country ever again’); and how happy he was to have moved to wherever it was that was stupid enough to take him. I found this man repulsive. Mainly because, to my shame, he was spitting out an extreme version of what I had thought myself.

Then this happened: other South Africans in the queue started making eye contact. People shrugged and shook their heads, started smiling at one another. One of the passport controllers rolled her eyes and laughed – obviously not the first time she’d heard that kind of vitriol. And I thought again, as I have many times before, ‘This is why South Africa will work – because in the end, there are many more people like us than there are like him.’

We’ve got a truckload full of problems that I don’t need to list for you because you’re as worn out by them as I am. The apparent total lack of comeuppance. The exhausting, relentless and horrifying violence. The utter disregard for women. The depth of corruption. The hopelessness of an uneducated and unemployable youth. It goes on. But along with all that is a country where people belly-laugh in the street – it may sound ridiculous, but it’s something that really struck me when I came home: how often I hear people laughing. And again it made me feel that hope is relevant; that change is not only possible, but slowly actually happening, albeit in fits and starts.

I desperately wish Uyinene’s family and friends – and the thousands of South Africans in a similar position – didn’t have to endure what they do. All I can do is try to carry on believing in, and working towards, a safe future for every single kid out there.

Wishing all of us a peaceful, safe and laughter-filled November.