Afrophobia…stepping away from the edge

My country suffers from collective madness. Afrophobia. Xenophobia. Words that are being bandied around in South Africa… again. And a denial that it is either of these that describe the targeting and looting of foreign African-owned shops in the area of Soweto. These, as a result of a Somalia shop owner shooting dead a local Sowetan youth who was allegedly stealing from his shop.

The SowetoUnrest hashtag was trending all last week, news channels focused on the chaos and of course, experts called in to discuss whether this was xenophobia, afrophobia or neither. People were remembering the 2008 xenophobia that spread throughout the country and claimed so many lives. Remembering, hoping and praying that we would not topple over the edge again.

I was told a story by a Zimbabwean who lives in my area about a meeting that happened recently where locals actually voted on whether or not to attack and force out African foreigners from the area. It seems that sense prevailed and the vote swung in the favour of ‘allowing’ them to stay. But why did it reach the voting stage?

Have we forgotten all the South Africans who fled in exile during the struggle against the apartheid regime… to neighbouring countries who gave them refuge. When did we lose our collective memory and walk this slippery road to afrophobic madness?

I spoke to a young person in Soweto towards the end of the week, as it was spreading outside of the area and around the province of Gauteng. We spoke of many things that contribute to racial tension and hatred. My black boyfriend and I spent many hours discussing the same. And I spoke at length with one of my (black) best friends.

The bottom line I think from these discussions is that we as a nation just don’t seem to be able to connect with each other. And if we can’t connect with each other, how then do we begin to accept those who are ‘other’ to us as citizens.

You see, it is very unusual for whites and blacks to be friends in South Africa. Real friends. I look around whenever I am out with my boyfriend or black friends and see the stares we get – still, so long after our formal democracy date. The comments. The body language. We make whites uncomfortable. We make blacks confused. In predominantly white places, my boyfriend is always approached and engaged in theoretical racial discussions for some odd reason. In mainly black areas, I am asked if I know of any available jobs. Quite difficult to just have normal conversations and relate to people on a level.

At home in our complex, we are the only home where people of different races come and go. Every one else sticks to their own. In so many ways, this makes me sad and makes me understand why we are in such a difficult state as a nation. In so many other ways, it makes me feel blessed and gives me a glimmer of hope. A hope I see in the eyes of my children who have real friends across the colour line.

My friend and I were pondering this and thought we should come up with campaigns to make this happen: #MakeFriendsWithAWhiteThisWeek or #SpendTwoHoursInATownshipToday.

Connection and camaraderie could be the basis of our solution. It cannot be that simple can it? Of course this would have to go hand in hand with sorting out all the inherent structural inequalities in our country. But friendship, love and acceptance will be the glue that keeps the structure together and allows it to build and grow.

And so yes, I understand the complex underlying factors that lead to racism, afrophobia and xenophobia. A lot needs to be sorted out in our country. Not least of all, unemployment and quality education. I also understand that one of the core factors that drive us as humans is the need for love and connection. Whether or not we want to intellectualise this, it is an emotional need. If only we could extend that to people regardless of our race, our culture, our own little world. We would go far as a country.