How will we explain to our children what went wrong?

AG no, man. Are we still talking about textbooks? It’s April 2014, for goodness’s sake, and we are still harping on about textbooks that have not been delivered in some parts of South Africa.

Let us for a moment forget which political parties we intend to endorse on May 7. Let us forget there is a minister, government official and contractor responsible for the delivery of textbooks. Let us forget there are people behind our education policy. Let us transcend the fingerpointing, blame game and denials that have characterised discussions about textbooks.

This has become an emotive issue and invariably reflected the weakest and most incompetent parts of our system. Now that there is no one to blame, what do we do? We use our imagination.

Imagine yourself without your education. Imagine doors closing in your face as you knock relentlessly, desperate to be let into that world of opportunity. Imagine the hopelessness that comes from knowing and seeing that you are at the mercy of other people’s charity — that they can invite you in or kick you out at a whim. It is frightening to think that, without your education, you are naked, vulnerable and weak.

Even an education is no guarantee of success because jobs and opportunities are scarce. But it remains the best way out of poverty. Many have risen to the top without it, but I would rather take my chances with a certificate in my hand than go out into

Education is no guarantee of success. But it remains the best way out of poverty

this cruel world armed with nothing.

We are celebrating 20 years of democracy today. No matter our hardships, we should never forget the tumultuous journey to that glorious day in 1994 when South Africans from all walks of life queued for hours to make their mark, the majority of them for the first time.

I was a week away from my 16th birthday, but I remember everything about that day and the long, winding queues at the voting station in Spruitview on the East Rand. Thokoza, the township a few kilometres away, had witnessed some of the most horrific pre-election violence. Innocent community members and photographers doing their work were caught in the crossfire. The bitterness and mistrust were still lingering.

But on that historic day, the tears of pain were temporarily wiped away. Particularly moving were the older voters, whose glee and gratification were so palpable. What was it about that day that so inspired and stirred our souls? Why did the act of voting and choosing our representatives thaw our frozen hearts?

Because it held a promise of a better tomorrow. It whispered so lovingly and comfortingly that we were worthy of dignity and peace. That day took all our sorrow and turned it into an opportunity to build a better tomorrow. That future seemed so far away. We could not imagine where we would be 20 years later, but most of us had hoped we would be in a better place.

Well, that “future” has arrived and found us wanting. I never imagined there would be children who have to go without learning materials. I could never have imagined that textbooks would become such a hot political and contentious issue — 1994 was supposed to be our day of freedom from our shackles and all that threatened to arrest our progress.

What will we say to these children who are denied the right to learn? When they ask us what went wrong, how will we explain?

When they hear that Nelson Mandela once said: “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world”, and ask why there is such a distance between his words and what we have provided for them, what will we say?

It is not fair. It is not right. It is against everything that this day should represent.