Maybe I am a sentimentalist, a nostalgic, or a simply a cry-baby, but every time I go back to the township of my childhood I emerge from the visit drained and disturbed.
I try to visit Mpumalanga, a township in KwaZulu-Natal, at least twice a year. I normally go there in the off-season, to see my siblings and, sometimes, old friends.
It’s a medium-sized township, with some decent sections, or “prestige parks” as they were sometimes called by apartheid town planners.
Under apartheid, these prestige parks were generally inhabited by the more affluent members of the community – teachers, nurses, magistrates and other government employees. In our township, we called this section kwaMazakhele.
My childhood was spent in the rougher section which, for a long time, did not have access to electricity.
Yes, today there are many beautiful houses in this section. Some people from this section have also sent their kids to good schools, which is always a good sign.
Sadly, those who have improved their houses or sent their children and grandchildren to better schools are few and far between.
Having been to many villages and townships all over the country, I want to believe that my township is a microcosm of what is happening countrywide, where pockets of improvement get overwhelmed by deepening poverty and social depression.
Shocking levels of unemployment in my township result in people seeking other ways of making ends meet. Some launch spaza shops. But how many spaza shops can a neighbourhood sustain?
Others resort to crime. Others simply go for another easy option – opening a tavern. Almost every street has a tavern, or a house from which you can buy alcohol.
This, in turn, worsens an already serious challenge of alcoholism and the attendant violence.
One shocking revelation for me was that many girls and young women believe falling pregnant could be one solution for them.
This is based on the fact they get a government grant for every baby they bring into this world. I used to think this was an urban legend. I was laughed at by those who were surprised that I could not follow this simple logic.
When I pointed out to them that as their kids grew up, the expense of raising them and sending them to school would grow correspondingly, the young women would simply shrug and say: “The future will offer a solution.”
Once again, I am tempted to believe that this attitude goes beyond my township.
I am telling these stories as a concerned citizen. I have no solution. What is to be done?
There is no magic wand that can be waved to change the situation overnight.
For the country to turn the corner in terms of HIV infection, it took constant messages being hammered into the heads of our people. Gradually we reduced the infection rate. Then we relaxed.
This possibly sent a wrong message to our people – that the problem had disappeared.
What this illustrates is that constant and continuous messaging is necessary.
A serious focus on education – both informally and formally – could go a long way towards changing the attitudes and behaviour of our people in areas where they can still change.
As I say, it will not happen overnight. It demands commitment and a single-minded vision from those who lead in the educational and social behavioural sectors.
Real and meaningful support for entrepreneurship could also address the economic challenges that lead our people to antisocial behaviour.
I am just devastated by what is a crisis building in the country.
The minority of us living behind tall walls in peaceful neighbourhoods will sadly not stay unaffected when the time bomb finally explodes.
Because one day it will.
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