My Turn
"Are you ready to die white bitch? Because I am coming for you!" An angry caller who called the standby phone several times left me somewhat unsettled, but not much.
As a small-town journalist, you get threats often. Community journalism is personal.
“Racism is alive and well” I told myself. Fueled by propagandists that need the anger to boil over in order to jump on the gravy train and push those riding on it off, I philosophised further. For a split second I fell into the trap of thinking that all black people hate me because of my skin color or my mother tongue.
But then something amazing happened.
On Friday night a colleague who was supposed to go to an appointment in Mhluzi, cancelled last minute. Armed with two trusty friends and false bravado, I made my way to the Tuckshop Factory near the Themba Simelane stadium at 22:00 that night.
What a surprise we got! The venue is a smoke free visual treat. We got to listen to good music, meet fabulous people and even had the owner of the place, Dosline, walk us to our car on our way home.
On Saturday I sat waiting for my husband to come pick up my son so I can go to an accident scene. I pulled into the closest filling station and switched off my car.
It was not long before a Toyota Tazz with tinted windows and a Orlando Pirates sticker rolled up next to me. A guy leaned out the front passenger window and called “Hello!”
Preparing myself for yet another confrontation of some sort, I greeted back half-heartedly.
“Are you okay? Do you need help? We see that you and your son are sitting alone.”
I was stunned. What I instinctively perceived as a potential attack, turned out to be a concerned citizen.
This weekend’s happenings have once again opened my eyes. In a world where it is so easy to hate, and where people of opposing views actually depend on that hate to take a stand, we are missing a lot of magic.
The magic is not happening in Parliament or at protests or during heated debates. The magic happens when normal people like me and you take the time and throw away the fear and stick out your hand in friendship.
It is easy to hate. Even easier when you have valid reasons like apartheid or farm attacks. I choose not to hate. I choose to salute the Tazz drivers and the Dosslines of the world who make a difference, one smile at a time.
And I vow to be one of them. Even if someone threatens to kill me because of my skin colour, they cannot kill the choices I make and they cannot touch my spirit.
