Dying in the ways of Ubuntu...

2017-05-25 06:02
on the runlunga adam

on the runlunga adam

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What a cruel world we live in; acts of brutality on innocents on a daily basis and brazen attacks on the men and women in blue.

I am not concerned of threats to my life, and am not going to be a hermit anytime soon.

Far from it. If anything, I am more irked than before and I wish to share my view of the world from where I am sitting, without any fear or favour.

Its about time we realised that the world will never be the one it was years ago.

There is more bad than good. What this means is that you cannot look at your surroundings the same way you used to in the past.

Even the chirping of the birds in the morning should be met with scepticism. Seems everyone out there has a sinister motive –to ‘eliminate’ an enemy, to put a spell on a successful neighbour or to rape a friend’s daughter.

Our saving virtue is that of Ubuntu. It’s ingrained in us as a Black nation to care about others and to extend a helping hand to whomever may be in need.

But methinks this Ubuntu business has its own perils.

At worst, it can lead to your grave. I was reminded of this sad fact on learning of the demise of well-known DJ and former Generations actor Simphiwe Hlatshwayo, who was gunned down outside a pub in Soweto almost a fortnight ago. His sin: He had gone out of his way to help a woman in distress.

The defence of a woman gone eerily awry. Those oxygen thieves did not think twice before snuffing his life out in a second!

That incident to me back to an acquaintance who died in similar circumstances at a joint about three years ago.

He had been trying to intervene in a squabble between two patrons, one of whom drew a knife and stabbed him to death.

I have yet to recover from the trauma of that incident, because my pal was a good lad. Needless to say, the perpetrator is still roaming the streets. That was the last time I spent a dime there.

It’s all well and good observing from a safe distance to regard these as isolated incidents, but for some of us in the coalface of the happenings, its a different piece of cake.

Another gruesome incident culminated in the death of a young lad in my area. I watched in horror as the kid gasped for his last breath after being stabbed inside a tavern.

I was not privy to the beef between victim and perpetrator, but what I know is that I had bumped into the former in one dinghy corner the previous evening and even exchanged some pleasantries.

Then the following day, it was while I was making small chat with a lady friend in the wee hours of the morning when I heard a ruckus behind us.

Turns out it was the young man and another girl. I could see from the distance the patrons immediately quell the scuffle.

Moments later the terrified girl pleaded with me to talk some sense to the lad and even apologise on her behalf if need be: “Ndiyakucela torho uthethe naye xa umbona ngomso Lunga. Ukhangeleka esiskoli la mfana,” .

In a calm demeanour, I allayed her fears and promised a word with him.

But inside of me, doubt was tearing me apart, for this was not my indaba in the first place.

I settled on talking to him when the setting was right. As luck would have it, the next day came and the young one walked in. The woman cringed. Pleaded with me to approach him, but I kept delaying the process.

If truth be told, I wanted to ukucamta naye is’jita and bring peace once and for all, especially since he seemed to hold me in high regard, if my interactions with him were anything to go by. I never got to it, though, and hours later, I witnessed his brutal death.

I am sad I could not reach out to him, and for prolonging the sense of fear on the part of the woman. But I also could have become a statistic of “Ubuntu”. Think of it for a second.


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