Today has been a very sad day for me. Seeing the photos that are making rounds in the media, of what my people are doing to my other people. My initial response to the violence meted against our African brothers in KZN and, lately in the Johannesburg CBD, was that of anger. Anger was then replaced by my activist instinct, and so my mind started formulating an explanation of this sad and unfortunate development.
I already had a plan of how I was going to structure my blog posting, attempting to offer philosophical, psychological, political and even theological reasons why my people are behaving like this. I was ready to prove how we are making a mistake by terming this development “xenophobia”, for its selective nature, as it excludes Europeans, Indians and Chinese (who have historically and even currently, been responsible for unspeakably more harm to SA’s native Africans, than the immigrant Africans) disqualifies it to be simply called xenophobia.
I was going to construct arguments that suggest the possibility of what we are witnessing being a manifestation of a deep-seated self-hatred of the African, the so-called “black” man, and how we hate everything that reminds us of us, our poverty, depravity, destitution, our lost-ness, yes, our blackness. I was also tempted to include, and go at length, in my response, about how our capitalistic society, characterised by the absence of resources, for the majority (Africans/ so-called “blacks”), in the midst of the presence of abundance, for the minority (Europeans/ so-called “whites”), inevitably contributes to the human conflict currently playing itself out, as there is fighting for the little of what is left, from the masters’ crumbs.
These and many other thoughts rushed into my mind, until I was hit by the realisation that, right now, there are children who have lost parents; wives, husbands; nephews, uncles; families, source of income; people who have lost their lives. This chilly reminder, made me realise that there are no words that could undo what has been done, by my people, by me, to my other people. At this time, I started having “faces” attached to the pictures that are making rounds, as I began to think about my many friends that come from other African countries. This is when all my anger, activist instinct, then morphed into sadness, an unspeakable and hopeless sadness, and I lost all my emotional composure.
I then decided to call some of my fellow African friends who are based here in South Africa. I called them because I wanted to know how they are doing. I called them because I wanted to acknowledge their pain, thus being a witness to their deep wound. Lastly, I called because I wanted to apologise for the pain that I and my people have caused them. I realise that there are many other friends of mine that I could not reach with my phone, and, other fellow Africans that I might not even know personally, and, to those as well, I would like to say to you, “I AM SORRY”!!!
