:: Shobhaa De

The wild life in S. Africa

By Shobhaa De

Sep 26 : At the time of writing, our "boys" are in Jo’burg doing what they do best — avoid losing matches. The ICC Champions Trophy is on in the rainbow nation, and chances are, Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Co. may end up like the zebras fed to lions in the famous park just outside the city limits. I bite my tongue while making this prediction (for one, I know very little about cricket, for another, I’m certain if nothing else motivates Dhoni, the world’s highest-earning cricketer, at least the desire to hang on to his juicy endorsement deals will get him to perform). Oh, but even Gary Kirsten’s sex dossier may not get it up for the guys.

I was in South Africa last fortnight to participate in "Shared Histories — Words on Water" a three cities Lit Fest, and it was my second trip. The first one doesn’t really count, since my husband and I were Vijay Mallya’s guests. Which means, one travels in a bubble minus any meaningful contact outside that pampered space. It is a great way to travel (it doesn’t get any better!), but for all the luxuries and privileges that Vijay lays on, it is impossible to wander off and connect with the real world. As it turns out, Vijay was absolutely right. You really don’t want to wander off or have any contact with the outside world while in the rainbow nation. Unless you like the idea of getting your head blown off. He’d insisted on a gun-toting bodyguard accompanying us at all times. Now I understand why.

South Africa, where the Father of Ahimsa was born, is now one of the most dangerous destinations on earth. And Gandhi himself is seen in a totally different light "back home", even by the Indian community. As one scholar explained, "We gave you M.K. Gandhi… and you gave the world a Mahatma". I am not sure whether that was a loaded remark, so I asked around and most people nodded their heads and stated, "For us, Gandhi is a second tier leader… nothing more, nothing less". That was revelation number one. I had imagined Gandhiji was revered and worshipped across South Africa, and was right up there with Nelson Mandela. But that is not so. Mandela himself is a shadow of his former self. He remains incommunicado most of the time, protected by his over-zealous minders, who insist he is too frail at 92 to meet visitors.

Perhaps, South Africa does not want the international community to know just how frail their "most recognised brand" really is (dedicated boutiques sell the famous presidential shirts, marketed by Mandela’s personal designer). For, without Mandela, who or what does that nation have to boast about? President Jacob Zuma may have survived rape charges (imagine the ignominy of the head of state being accused of rape!!). But that’s South Africa — a brutally violent society at war against itself.

Yes, it is indeed dangerous to venture out at any time of the day or night. Our very polished diplomat, Navdeep Singh, based in Jo’burg, kept reminding me that this was not Mumbai! He was spot on. I was staying at a charming guest house no more than half-a-block from his sprawling mansion, and yet, strolling over was out of the question.

I’d wondered why most shops and establishments pulled down their shutters by 4.30 pm, and remained open for just a few short hours over weekends. "Because of armed robberies", South Africa’s most famous and controversial cartoonist Nanda Soobben told me bluntly as he drove me around in Durban in a gleaming black Mercedes. He had hardly got those words out of his mouth when, at a traffic signal, a drug addict lurched up to the car and thumped on the window aggressively. Nanda remained unfazed as he told the man to go look for some work. He turned to me and grinned, "People are very jealous of my car here. I tell them I’ve worked very hard to buy it. They can own a Merc too, if they work for it".

I asked a prominent crime writer I was sharing a panel with in Cape Town, what the explanation could be to this ugly phenomenon. She lowered her voice (there was a predominantly black and coloured audience, while she herself was white) and said, "My father is a paediatric surgeon. Most of the surgeries he performs are on little girls — their private parts… to reconstruct torn vaginas. Open the papers and you will find at least seven or eight reported rapes a day. Most victims are underage kids. Ours is a very, very unstable society. I put the blame squarely on apartheid and what it did to destroy the human spirit. Our people don’t know the meaning of love".

I spoke to several other people, including "coloureds", who seem to be the most bewildered of the lot. They look white, think white, act white, but fall into the coloured category. Even they can’t explain how they got there. All they know is that they were relocated ("regrouped’’) to designated areas meant exclusively for them, their lands seized, their homes destroyed… and that was that. Do they feel bitterness and hate? "It’s inevitable", replied a college professor, who pointed out the ghetto in which he grew up after his family was identified as coloured by the regime.

"Neighbours deposed against neighbours. People like us were ‘outed’ by those who envied our success". Perhaps the positive fall out of that "regrouping" is the existence of mosques and temples standing cheek by jowl in crowded areas sans any signs of "disturbance".

For all that, South Africa remains a dynamic and ambitious nation. FIFA is round the corner, and the entire country is gearing up for the world event, which is expected to boost tourism in a big way.

People are also very proud of the IPL coup, which was handled with great success at short notice. "If we could pull that off in such a short time, we can definitely score big with FIFA". The countdown has begun, and there are gigantic electronic boards at strategic places that display the exact number of days still to go before the World Cup.

I sorely missed running into any Black Diamonds during my week long stay there. This is a mocking reference to the posh, Westernised ladies-who-lunch, flashing the latest fashion labels and wearing pea-sized solitaires. There is a lot of money hidden in South Africa — a lot. But it remains out of sight. Tanya, a beautiful woman (but not a Black Diamond) repeatedly warned me not to speak on the cellphone while in a car, or open my handbag and flash cash — not even small notes. "People here kill for less than that". Sure enough, while driving back from the Cape of Good Hope (or, more appropriately, the Cape of Storms), Calvin, my tour operator, did a sharp about turn as we approached what may possibly be an even bigger urban slum than Dharavi on the outskirts of the city. "What’s wrong?" I asked. He pointed to a few cars in the distance, "Look… it’s shootout… a hold up. Most vehicles are bullet proof, but these days, burglars pump bullets into the tyres, and then into the occupants". Phew!!  I was glad to be taking the flight back to India at dawn.

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