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Can you hear a thousand
and one cheers, echoing down 1996 into the years that lead to the
Two-Triple-O?
No, of course you can't.
Not if you're one of those
'aware' people who sit in the three currently fashionable salons of
South Africa.
The rooms of 'awareness'
in which we all gather are:-
# The still-warm salon
where people continue to savour the flavours of last month - the
sweet success of 'our Bokke-bokke', and the brotherly-sisterly
lovability of multi-racial patriotism. This salon is a comforting
place which one vacates very reluctantly.
# The dining table
around which we all sit and skinder about who is leaving which
political party in order to "make a difference in our future".
It's a fun, non-threatening place to be, and the debate can be
extended into Major areas abroad.
# The psychiatrist's
chambers where we keep asking our group: "How is that we are
elated and still in South Africa, when all the socio-economic and
political scenarios show us that we are heading for disaster?"
All three of these places
are visited by nearly all 'aware' South Africans.
In the 'Bokke-bokke' room,
optimists gather to sing along. It's the most heart-warming place to
be. The Boks, by winning the World Cup, have cemented the base of our
national flag pole. ("Just pay them a little more, so they'll
keep quiet").
However, political
commentator Kaizer Nyatsumba, has published a question which has been
nagging me ever since a Louis Luyt swear-alike "made jokes"
during the exhilarating, mind-massaging moments of Soshaloza and
Bokke-bokke at that World Cup Final. Nyatsumba now wants to know how
long - for the sake of national unity - must people keep on paying
homage to a crowd of arrogant, exclusive sons of rugger-buggers.
(Well, he put the question more politely than I have.)
The answer, I suppose, is:
"Enthusiastic sporting patriotism is the essential glue that can
hold a diverse nation together for the foreseeable future." And
the 'foreseeable future', actuaries tell me, is as long as piece of
string.
* * *
The second place
frequented by 'aware' South Africans is the dining room where we
barrack the game of political musical chairs. It is a spectator sport
which virtually guarantees relaxed self-satisfaction.
Tony Leon of the DP,
and the Federal Party's Francis Kendall are a most entertaining pair,
and it's fun to see them suddenly sitting together. Their ideas,
sound and unsound, are unquestionably well-intentioned and honest.
There is no prospect of power to corrupt them. What makes it so
satisfying is that their politico-economic ardour, and their sense of
mission, allow us to sip our wine and gently uittart them.
Lappies Loubser (SPELL) is
also entertaining dinner-table fare because he is aNat expressing
loyalty to Madiba. It is a touching loyalty which all of us -
particularly those of us from Houghton, darling - would wish to
express. But we may need another round of drinkies to get past our
political inhibitions.
But he's such an
obscure local politico. As a minor Pretoria Nat over the past
30 years dare we believe he had liberal and non-racial thoughts? Does
it matter?
"Anyway, the
Nats say he's betrayed them merely because he's lost his job with
them. I mean, what are you to believe? Isn't that what all
politicians do - and what all of them say about a friend who has
flown the coop? Or is it the sinking ship? And the speculation! The
more Roelfie denies that he's also about to change sides, the
more likely it is that he will, isn't it?"
Jay Naidoo's position in
the ANC is the most delicious of all, because he is being so sweetly
undermined by "friends" and by "non-racialistic
Africanists". What's fascinating about it is that the
undermining is being done from the top - from the inner Cabinet.
Anyone working out of President Madiba's office, laying down the RDP
law to all Cabinet Ministers - but with no visible means of power
except an unmeasured voltage from a Tuinhuis socket - must expect
power-seeking members of the inner Cabinet to pull the plug. It's
inevitable in politics.
The consensus at our
dinner table is that the only solution is to ration out to all
Cabinet Ministers the powers of the magic wand of RDP. Each Minister
must be given a measurable task to perform, and made directly
responsible for part of the way to the RDP goal-line. Then table-talk
turns to post_Mandela. . .
* * *
The third place where
aware South Africans tend to gather is at the psychiatrist's couch
where they are worrying themselves sick about the Apocalypse.
"What should I do
Doc?"
Flee to Patagonia or New
Zealand ... No. Global warming could be a problem . . . Give up sex,
sunshine and money, and flee to Tibet."
"Give up sex and. . ?
Doc, I think I'm cured."
"Thank you. The bill
is R1m plus VAT. And make it out 'cash'.
If you have the blind,
stupid courage to stay out of the three places I've just described,
then you just may hear a thousand and one cheers echoing down the
years to Two-Triple-O.
You'll feel the zest of
the risks that sharpen and tingle the South African air. There's no
place, at this moment, quite so exhilarating. |
