With heads bowed in shame

Following the 2008 xenophobic rioting, the then president of South Africa, Thabo Mbeki gave a striking speech that reminded us, the offspring of African forebears, of our collective responsibility to advance the noble vision of African liberty. This is “the vision of Africans, on our Continent and the Diaspora, free at last, proud of themselves and their heritage, and united in their resolve to combine in a mighty force of liberation to uplift themselves”.

Today, nearly a decade later, we witness xenophobic havoc again wracking our country, and threatening the vision that those who walked before us fought for – that of Rev. Tiyo Soga, who 147 years ago wrote about the unity of all Africans both on the Continent and the Diaspora, or that of J.G Xaba, who in 1906 reminded us of our aim to promote unity in the whole continent of Africa.

Maybe we took it for granted that the regeneration of Africa would come to be and would mean that a new and unique civilisation would soon be added to the world. Yet we, heirs to the vision of a united Africa and the spirit of our ancestors have witnessed in the past few days, as a betrayal of the dream.

A dark shadow has been cast over the nation: a shadow that celebrates violence, hate, aggression and intolerance. A shadow whose sole aim is to dampen and silence the voices of Nelson Mandela and the likes.

A shadow that threatens to erase our collective memory of a lifelong struggle to build a democratic nation that promotes and protects the Human Rights and dignity of all who live within its borders.

Attacks on Black African foreign nationals living in South Africa have rendered futile the words of Nelson Mandela, who said “…Never again shall it be that that this beautiful land will again experience the oppression of one by another and suffer the indignity of being the skunk of the world”.

It appears as though we have again become that very skunk of the world and the ‘sun has set on so glorious our human achievement’ of a better life for all. And when the dust clears we stand with heavy hearts and with our heads bowed in shame for failure to uphold the African dream.  

What is striking has been the silence, apathy and sluggishness of response from our leaders. One exception has been Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi, MP and leader of the IFP, who asked how it can be that South Africa is the most xenophobic country; We have turned on those who opened their borders and hearts for us in the heat of apartheid.. Social media has been clouded with concerned voices questioning our political leaders’ silence and lack of action in stopping these senseless attacks on other Africans.

South Africa has always been quick to send in police to address social ills, yet very slow at actually speaking up. And while police service is required in times of mayhem, it fails to address the underlying issues at hand. What is more, policing further promotes violence and sends the message that everything can be resolved by the gun (albeit rubber-bullet) and the detention of law breakers.

What we have desperately ached for as a nation these past few days has been a sober voice, a leader who will stand firm, speak up and stand against xenophobia. 

In the last few days, many of us have had sleepless nights, coupled with a sense of acute guilt. I am overcome with distress and worry about my friends and comrades. I fear for the lives of my university peers, who came to South Africa in search of a better life and self-development.

I fear for the lives of my colleagues at the university I work for, whose passion has been to educate the children of the very people who are violating their rights. My heart bleeds for humanity, for Africa, for our Black brothers and sisters, for liberty.

I have personally felt as though I am also responsible, that I could have done more to help. I have felt like I could have acted earlier and not rely on our government. There is a loud voice in my head crying for Africa, asking that she will forgive us one day. I feel I owe it to my friends in Kenya, who welcomed me like a king in their country when I visited a couple of weeks ago.

I feel the urge to apologise to my Mozambican comrade who unfailingly showed me the greatest hospitality when I spent time in her country. I yearn for a space to express my solemn apology to my university peers from Zimbabwe, who were there whenever I needed help with my academic work.

In the silence of reasoning voice I apologise for all South Africans, those before us and those of this generation.

South Africa is as much your home as it is mine. With heads bowed in shame: Africa please forgive our lack of heart.

Ndumiso Daluxolo Ngidi