Analysis and commentary package published in the Saturday Star weekly newspaper in Johannesburg, South Africa. Examines the forces behind large-scale acts of violence occurring in South Africa at the time of publication, as well as the role of the press in documenting and carrying the conversation forward.

1. M a y 2 2 0 1 5 S AT U R D AY S TA ROPINION16
CONTACT US
A right to live,
a right to die
I
F A PERSON has a constitutional right to life, then it
must follow that they have the same power to waive
that right when life is no longer tenable or even
endurable. This is the predicament that retired
advocate Robin Stransham-Ford finds himself in.
Suffering from incurable cancer, Stransham Ford
wants the right to end his life, while he can and while he
has whatever dignity is left to him, without being drawn
into a vortex of pain and suffering… and the eventual
merciful release through death.
On Thursday, Pretoria Judge Hans Fabricius agreed
with him, issuing an order that would allow a medical
doctor to administer a lethal injection or provide it to
Stransham-Ford without becoming an accessory to
murder and being punished accordingly.
It is a far-reaching, profound, precedent-setting order –
irrespective of the judge’s determination that every case
thereafter must be individually weighed on its merits.
The truth is that the dam wall of prohibition and
prejudice built on the foundations of millennia of dogma
has finally been cracked.
Parliament now has to consider the implications of
this decision and to regulate the circumstances – and
indeed the way – in which assisted suicide can be allowed.
We are happy that Stransham-Ford has received his
wish and that our courts have been found to be reactive
and empathetic to the pressing needs of an individual,
but there are huge concerns about the possible
implications of Judge Fabricius’s precedent.
Life is sacred. Our constitution underpins this, but
there are times when life is no longer sustainable in a fair
and reasonable manner. This does not mean opening the
door to ending life merely because it is perceived no
longer to be worth living – and that is the danger of not
properly regulating euthanasia.
ONE dining room table. One bed.
Two kids. Two houses. Two chick-
ens. Three countries. Three flats.
Four cats. Five Comrades
Marathons. Seven dogs. Eight cars.
12 Matric distinctions. One (shared)
name. 30 years.
Numbers, she would say, are
important. As you’d expect from a
maths teacher whose world is
ordered and disciplined.
Words, I would say, are impor-
tant. As you’d expect from someone
who has spent most of his adult life
fooling around with words. Words
are all I have. To steal your heart
away. If a picture paints a thousand
words, why can’t I paint you?
As the songs swirl around my
head, I wonder: where, then, are the
words? How do you frame a life
together? What do you say to the
people who ask: “What’s the
secret?”
Hell, I don’t know. But here’s a
start: Love. Laughter. Luck…
In the beginning, it was the
reverse. I was lucky. I didn’t end up
in a body bag, or a wheelchair after
two years of helicopters, machine-
guns and dust.
Then, the laughter. She would
always say I made her laugh…and
the others –- with the fancier cars,
the better bank balances, the par-
ents from the “right side of town”–
they couldn’t do that, could they?
And, love? Inevitable, I suppose.
In the air but not uttered…even as
we shared some Old Brown Sherry
on that early spring evening and tac-
itly agreed. We were together. Not
much later, I let the three words lose
across the grass hills of Dullstroom
as she sat, watching her father cast-
ing for trout in a dam.
The marriage proposal itself –
sitting in a car in the driveway of
my parents’ house – was the epit-
ome of romance: “OK… I suppose
we should do this…”
I was about to be transferred to a
country I knew nothing about
(Namibia) and wasn’t about to leave
her. And she wasn’t about to follow
me 3 000km without a commitment.
I lost more than 2kg in five days
as my stomach twisted in fear.
Standing on the edge of that rest-of-
your-life commitment is a damn
scary thing.
It was made even more frighten-
ing because, the way I was brought
up, I would have no parachute.
Even as a “Retired Catholic”, I
still take “Till Death us do part”
quite seriously…as did my parents.
When they gave their word – in
whatever they did – it was cast in
stone. It was only Death which
finally parted them. I cannot dis-
honour them by being different.
Making a marriage work is not
easy. It requires commitment from
both sides. It requires work. Noth-
ing worthwhile ever came free…
One of the biggest things you
have to deal with is that you, as indi-
viduals, are always changing and
that you will never be the same two
who said “I do”.
You need to understand those dif-
ferences and to keep your anchor
line true to what you were, what you
are and what you will be; so most of
all you need to be friends.
The kind of friendship which
enables you to sit, feet up, saying
nothing, reading a book in front of
the fire and be content.
The kind of friendship which
means you can come home from
watching blood trickle into a town-
ship drain and be re-connected with
sanity.
The kind of friendship which
holds your arm at the funeral and
gives you strength as you say
farewell to your parents.
I have blown through 581 words.
My first, chain-smoking, Scots
News Editor echoes in my head: Get
to the bloody point, Brendan.
Right: I love you. Always have.
Always will.
ACTING EDITOR:
kashiefa.ajam@inl.co.za
CHIEF SUBEDITOR:
jennifer.deklerk@inl.co.za
CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER:
paballo.thekiso@inl.co.za
REPORTERS:
sameer.naik@inl.co.za
thabiso.thakali@inl.co.za
sheree.bega@inl.co.za
noni.mokati@inl.co.za
SATURDAY STAR
011-633-9111
UNION DISSIDENTS
DEFEND ZUMA
NUMSA dissidents are
defending President
Jacob Zuma and his
son, Edward.
The ANC sweet-
heart metalworkers
union (the Liber-
ated Metalworkers
Union of SA) is
mobilising an anti-
Numsa stance by
appealing to unions
and Cosatu to
defend the
ANC and Zuma in particular.
Workers are no longer as naïve as they
were between 2002 and 2010. (This reminds
us of) when the Union Of South Africa
(Uwusa) was funded by the Inkatha Free-
dom Party (IFP) to counter Cosatu in 1987 at
the height of the struggle?
The main Cosatu May 1 rally is in
KwaZulu-Natal so Zuma, Blade Nzimande
and S’dumo Dlamini can use “homeboy
solidarity” in the same way the IFP used
KwaZulu-Natal to manoeuvre the former
United Democratic Front.
Edward Zuma is on the rampage against
Max du Preez, who is one of a few white
journalists who joined the freedom train.
In one of his interviews towards 1990 he
said he was inspired by Percy Qoboza, Zwe-
lakhe Sisulu, Alister Sparks and Helen Zille,
who revealed details about the death of
Steven Biko.
Schabir Shaik paid for
Zuma’s expenses including
his traffic fines, water and
electricity bills, rent and pocket money.
It is this rot that the Numsa offspring
union wants to defend, disguising it as
defence of the tripartite alliance.
Where was Edward when Zulu King
Goodwill Zwelithini and IFP leader Mango-
suthu Buthelezi threatened to sabotage the
first democratic elections?
Du Preez was there with the people when
former Nelson Mandela was leading.
The 1 000-membership ANC sweetheart
union and Edward Zuma must be crowned
“mamparas of the month”.
Phasani Biyela
LET’S ALL BLAME OOM JAN
ACCORDING to JZ, Jan van Riebeeck is to
blame for apartheid, xenophobia, afropho-
bia, government corruption, colonialism,
maladministration, Eskom, the SABC,
Nkandla, colonial statues and for not paying
back the money.
I reckon Oom Jan’s castle could do with
a non-colonial fire pool, home theatre,
chicken coup and renamed Nkandla part 2.
The Kruger National Park could be
renamed Julius Dalemaville and house EFF
members reclaiming “their” land.
The big five will then be replaced by the
big two, namely overalls and berets.
The king of xenophobia, aka King Good-
will Zwelithini , has now got the credentials
to become an official government spokes-
man after his last statement.
A decision is still to be made on whether
the Waterkloof Airforce Base will be called
the Gupta Flight Centre or Gupta Airforce
Airways.
Minister of Sport Fikile Mbalula can
now be made the convenor of selectors for
SA cricket to ensure the Proteas become the
Daisies.
The Rhodes scholarships must be
scrapped with immediate effect as
“edukayted” now means having a fake qual-
ification entitling you to a top government
post with bonuses. Statues of Zuma and his
cabinet ought to be erected at all Eskom sites
as a reminder of how government “power”
has become so putrid and polluted.
Keith Chipiwa
BURSARIES FOR THE DESERVING
YOU report that whites only bursaries are
unconstitutional and should be available to
all students.
I have to ask – will affirmative action now
apply to these bursaries, making them avail-
able to blacks only?
You mention in particular bursaries
established in the dying days of apartheid.
Is it possible that the conditions were set
to protect talented, however, needy white
kids (and they do exist) against being
excluded by children whose academic
record does not warrant subsidisation?
Let children who work hard and get the
best academic results get the bursaries – no
exclusions.
Lynette Rens
Letters can be faxed to 011-834-7520,e-mailed to saturdayletters@inl.co.za,or posted to Box 1014,Johannesburg,2000.The Saturday Star reserves the right to edit correspondence.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
ANTHONY SETTIPANI
L
AST week, thousands
marched from Hillbrow to
Newtown against the xeno-
phobic acts that rocked
South Africa’s consciousness. Last
Sunday, the Times ran an interview
with the family of Emmanuel Sit-
hole, neatly placing the lid on the
casket to which they gave us all
front row seats a week before. And
this Wednesday, Hillbrow felt the
tramping of a second march as the
DA took to the streets for their own
anti-xenophobia demonstration.
They brought about 30 people, a far
cry from the previous demonstra-
tion only six days before.
Khume Ramulifho, regional
chairman for the DA, spoke at the
rally of the necessity of carrying
the conversation forward and con-
tinuing to stand in solidarity with
foreign nationals in South Africa.
“Even when the limelight has
disappeared, the attention must be
directed toward the people who are
here,” he said afterwards. This
falling below the radar, he main-
tained, is a problem that South
Africa faces time and time again.
“We deal with issues for one
week, or two,” he said. “After that
they lose their momentum.”
Even the controversy over South
Africa’s historic statuary, starting
with Cecil Rhodes but spreading to
pedestals throughout the nation,
died down as soon as the iconic fig-
urehead was laid to rest. We no
longer read about paint being
thrown over the statue of Gandhi, or
of people chaining themselves to
Paul Kruger, and in this case at
least, that may not be a problem.
Much of the graffiti is painted by
scattered individuals with scattered,
individual goals, and the less atten-
tion given to vandals, the better.
But when the wheel turns to
xenophobia, to violence and neck-
lacing and riots in the streets, two
weeks of attention simply won’t
do. This was the error of 2008, to
believe that once the violence sub-
sides, the negative sentiment goes
along with it.
It never had. Even during the in-
between years, organisations like
the Consortium for Refugees and
Migrants in South Africa argue that
violence still persists. During an
average week in 2011, for instance,
CoRMSA found that one person died
at the hands of xenophobic vio-
lence, 100 suffered serious injury
and 1 000 were displaced from their
homes. Over the course of four days
in September 2013, more than 150
foreign-owned shops fell victim to
looting at the hands of township res-
idents in the Port Elizabeth area.
The month before, looting occurred
in 25 shops in Fochville, five in
Tsakane and 72 in Duduza. Inter-
mingled with these large-scale
attacks were shootings, deaths and
hundreds of displacements – all dur-
ing the single month of August 2013.
This is not an issue to be resolved
as neatly as the removal of a statue.
It is a slow-burning crisis drawing
heat from the embers of fear and
inequality. Sporadic doses of enthu-
siastic opposition, like water on a
volcano, make little real difference.
South Africa needs to decide which
discussions deserve to be continued,
which problems need to be commit-
ted to, and which deserve to be gen-
tly set down after their moment in
the limelight. Because as long as the
spectre of xenophobia remains in
the minds of its believers, it will
carry its violence forward. And it
does remain.
Back at Ramulifho’s rally on the
steps of the Hillbrow police station,
the small crowd of DA constituents
stood and waved signs urging people
to “#Stopthekillings”.
Across the street, a man who
identifies as Zulu sat under a tree,
watching and shaking his head.
“There are too many foreigners
here,” he told me, his eyes fixed
on the signs and blue shirts. “Too,
too many.”
URBAN
WORRIER
BRENDAN
SEERY
TAKING IT TO THE STREET: Marches against xenophobia have been
taking place in downtown Joburg. PICTURE: MIKE HUTCHINGS/REUTERS
Xenophobia is a slow-burning crisis
Love: let’s
count the
many ways
ANTHONY SETTIPANI
IT HAS been an educational couple
of weeks for the media. Not long
ago, we looked with horror at the
front page of the Sunday Times,
where images of a man stabbed in
the heart brought previously unseen
acts of xenophobic violence into
undeniable clarity.
We pondered the ethics of stand-
ing and taking pictures while
another human being’s terrible
death was framed before our eyes.
Then word surfaced of the effort
made by the journalists who cap-
tured the graphic images to get the
dying man to a hospital and we
learned once again that journalists
can be people too. And howling on
the heels of all this came the cry for
the thugs who had taken a man’s life
to pay for their crime.
No doubt James Oatway’s photos
proved invaluable to law enforce-
ment professionals as they sought
out and arrested the men who are
allegedly responsible for Mozambi-
can, Emmanuel Sithole’s death.
In terms of culpability, the photo-
graphs gave them just about every-
thing they needed: a smoking gun
and the faces that looked down the
sights of it.
No untrained civilian could have
been asked to do more and last Tues-
day the news was that the suspects
had been arrested and charged.
But Oatway’s photos sparked
deeper changes. The images he shot
changed the entire discussion sur-
rounding xenophobia from an aca-
demic conundrum into a humani-
tarian crisis. The face of violence no
longer hid in the shadows of
poverty, but peeked sickeningly into
the homes of the comfortable and
concerned.
Giving voice to the voiceless is
one of journalism’s oldest mandates
and yet I’m floored every time some-
one asks me what’s in it for me as if
I was only approaching them for
food or drinking money.
The most recent episode came as
several notable leaders flexed their
muscle to criticise the accuracy and
the necessity of the press. This
never comes as a surprise; of course
politicians will seek any opportu-
nity to undermine the media. But
my answer to every concerned citi-
zen who poses such a question is
always: “What’s not in it for you?”
Journalism shores up democ-
racy, reveals corruption and raises
those with the least into a position
from which they can challenge the
great. It puts a check on those who
would exploit the vulnerable and
brings to light problems and ques-
tions that have gone unanswered for
too long. To my mind, anyone who
believes in the power of democracy,
of voting to improve their situation,
must also believe in the power of the
press to do the same.
Here’s one other example, albeit
in a slightly different ballpark. We
ran a story about Sonia Mokhou, a
volunteer cricket coach struggling
to manage and train a group of girls
in Moroka North in Soweto.
Mokhou believed in the role
sport can play in providing her girls
with a way to build confidence out-
side the classroom environment,
where many of them may not excel.
She gave her girls a support
group, a team they could count on
for friendship and belonging. And
she did it with only a single bag of
equipment: five bats for 23 pairs of
hands.
After the story ran, Mokhou
started getting e-mails from spon-
sors and individuals wishing to help
pay for newer, better equipment.
Local groups came forward and
donated money for snacks and food
so her charges could eat during
practice. And even Cricket South
Africa itself moved in to arrange
official sponsorship programmes.
Hopefully, Mokhou’s girls won’t
have to waste any more time waiting
around for a free bat.
This is the power of media; to
bring forth the voices of those who
lack the means to be heard and
allow the greater forces of human
decency to do their work.
Of course it doesn’t always work
out so well. The risks of malice, neg-
ligence and simple human error are
as prevalent in our profession as in
any other. Journalists must not neg-
lect their responsibility to convey
the facts they learn with as much
fairness, understanding and com-
passion as is humanly possible.
But others must not misunder-
stand our role, or mistake the hand-
ful of hucksters for the vast, decent
majority. We are not heckling quo-
testers nor scandal-starved zombies.
All we really are is people with
notebooks and terrible handwrit-
ing, and they pay us to listen.
As journalists, our editors pay us to
listen and give a voice to the voiceless