Have our people just become hopeless? Accepted their fate that South Africa is a defunct country?
This was a question that’s been nagging me since the news broke last week of the explosion in the Joburg CBD.
Seated on-board my air-conditioned MTA bus along Fifth Avenue, New York with the green lush trees of Central Park alongside me and the iconic Metropolitan Museum just metres away - the news broke of the explosion in Bree Street, Johannesburg.
Seeing it on WhatsApp I replied to a friend, asking what was happening back home.
My question was loaded because I also wanted his thoughts on the myriad of seemingly extraordinary news unfolding almost daily back home.
His response. A laughing emoji. Followed by a comment that had me floored.
The one that’s been making me think for days on end.
“Dude, what do you want me to say? I’m just tired about everything that is happening. It’s so exhausting so I just smile and I laugh and keep going. We are just f@cked. Stay in New York”
I over-analysed it a bit. Trying to make sense of it. Somehow it hit hard.
Is this what South Africans are feeling?
Despondent, downtrodden, let down.
Have they given up?
Now, sitting here in the comforts of my New York apartment I reminisce of the ‘World Class African City’ (that’s the official tagline for Joburg, by the way) that was my home for some 15 years before moving to New York.
It wasn’t my first encounter with the city.
I travelled there years before on a school trip. Our hotel was in the heart of Hillbrow.
Fresh from the euphoria of freedom four years before, Joburg was already beginning to change, however it was still magical and fairly safe.
The grass around Joubert Park was still green and safe to visit.
We could still walk the streets that were fairly free of dirt and grime and petty thieves.
It was truly magical.
When I eventually moved to Johannesburg in 2007, the inner city was already a no-go area, filthy and unsafe. I traversed those streets as a young journalist but those visits were fleeting as one never dared hangout in the inner city.
Then around 2009, there was excitement as a part of the inner city was being revitalised.
Maboneng was born. A Sesotho word meaning “place of light”.
And for us city slickers, it was just that.
Our new favourite hangout. A place gentrified with its tantalising Sunday food market, local clothing stalls on the streets and the rhythmic tunes at the rooftop salsa bar or a dance hall on top of one of the buildings.
But this was short-lived. Before deteriorating and becoming unsafe.
A white colleague of mine moved into an apartment in Hillbrow in the late 2000s.
We were brave and attended his house-warming. Back then, I asked him why he decided to buy in Hillbrow. He responded enthusiastically: ‘we need to be the change. One day this city will be returned to its former glory and I want to be one of the first people to see that transformation happen.’
Fifteen years after moving to Joburg, I find myself in what is known as the Mecca of the universe, New York City.
With its bright lights, yellow cabs and wide open spaces, this has become my new home.
Daily, when I walk these streets, I wonder what it would be like for my people to enjoy the ease of reliable public transport or the safety on the streets or just being able to post a parcel to a friend via the Post Office.
The explosion in the inner city has raised many questions about the state of our cities and towns.
Is it symptomatic of the lack of leadership and governance?
Is it symptomatic of how elected officials have allowed our country to disintegrate before our very eyes? Did we allow it?
We need to ask ourselves some tough questions, too.
Why is it that we find it so easy to throw litter everywhere, leaving Joburg in the mess it is?
Is this symptomatic of our very feelings towards our own spaces or city?
An extension perhaps of our hopelessness?
How is it that we smile or laugh when tragedy or disaster strikes? A coping mechanism perhaps?
Have we just accepted our fate?
We should not. We cannot. Joburg deserves to be a world class African city.
* Jody Jacobs is a South African journalist who works as an International Correspondent in New York.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.
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