I started reading my first newspaper back in 1992. Prior to that I never read any, except for the cartoon section of the Sunday times. I had just matriculated the year before. I did so to read about this Mandela that was about to be released from prison and what this apartheid system was.
Prior to this I never heard of either of the two and felt it was the way forward as I had just finished school and looked forward to a bright future in my country.
You see, I grew up in a non racial country, or so I thought, as I went to school with blacks. Played rugby and soccer with them. Celebrated birthdays with them. I even had a second father, so to speak, who was black. His name was Absilon.
A seven foot giant of a Zulu who took care of me when ever I visited my fathers restaurant in my child hood. He always motivated me, told me to excel in school etc. There was never any racism, never any condescending tones or mannerisms. Not the slightest sign that they hated us and visa versa.
And in my daily reading I learnt the term ‘Swart Gevar’. Apparently the propaganda tool that the then National Party used to put the fear into the whites in order to keep voting them into power. They way I understood it, swart gevar was how dangerous the black man was.
And that should they ever gain their freedom, great danger would befall us all in sunny SA. It spoke of how the black man would steal from us, rob us, murder us and bring certain doom to my once great country.
This I couldn’t believe. Eugene Kodisang, just one of my school friends, would rise up against me and murder me? Peter Mafuna would steal my belongings? Reggie Khumalo would chase me out of my country? Absilon would take what my father built up?
This was all surreal to me. I also couldn’t believe that the black man was being disadvantaged by the system called apartheid and subjected to humiliating living conditions. How could I? I had a great relationship with all the blacks that crossed my path.
Needless to say, my life, and that of my whole entire family was about to change. My life and country that I came to love dearly was about to change. And sadly not for the better. Prior to 1992, my family and I were victims of crime twice. The first when my house was burgled when I was about 5 years old.
The second, when I was in standard 4, was when they burgled my house again and almost killed my sister. Sadly they murdered my maid who was with us for 8 years. Luckily my sister played dead and they let her be.
Carlton centre and sadly had both my brother and sister murdered on two separate occasions.
I have witnessed the fall of the once majestic JHB Hospital of which I was a regular visitor for close on twenty years (my siblings had Lupus and spent most of their young lives there). My career choices became limited (AA) and my dream of becoming a commercial pilot vanished when I was told they were training black students only. I miss taking naps on the grass at Zoolake (too dangerous now).
Our once proud road infrastructure was even envied by the then ambassador of Germany (he visited my fathers restaurant when ever he was in the country. He loved driving his Porche in SA), now reduced to a potholed 3rd world conditions. The corruption, the blatant lies the ruling party spews to make me and my family look the past oppressors. The destruction of the rule of law. The list goes on and I grow weary of repeating all that troubles our fine country.
In the past few years I cannot help but wonder if the NP spoke the truth about the swart gevar. Everything they warned us about or if you prefer, lied to us about seems to have a lot of truth in it, as all they warned about has materialized and is currently going on in this once fine country.
The most startling truth about my studies about the swart gevar is the warning given out by the NP that the black man will not see the evil befalling our country by the ruling party until it’s too late. Just like all the northern African states before us. History definitely repeats itself in Africa.
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