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The Loyal Bunch The Loyal Bunch
(about 9 hours later)
JOHANNESBURG — Late last month, just as the dry winter weather started to bite, the political climate turned yellow, green and black, the colors of the African National Congress. Africa’s oldest liberation party was girding itself for the fifth general elections since the end of apartheid and the most anticipated race since Nelson Mandela walked out of prison.JOHANNESBURG — Late last month, just as the dry winter weather started to bite, the political climate turned yellow, green and black, the colors of the African National Congress. Africa’s oldest liberation party was girding itself for the fifth general elections since the end of apartheid and the most anticipated race since Nelson Mandela walked out of prison.
In the intervening years the A.N.C. has grown into something of a religion; it is the only thing that several generations, old and young, associate with the liberation of blacks from descendants of white settlers. Never mind that its current prophet-in-chief is President Jacob Zuma — middle name Gedleyihlekisa, which means “the one who kills you with a smile” in Zulu. Once again, the A.N.C. trounced the opposition.In the intervening years the A.N.C. has grown into something of a religion; it is the only thing that several generations, old and young, associate with the liberation of blacks from descendants of white settlers. Never mind that its current prophet-in-chief is President Jacob Zuma — middle name Gedleyihlekisa, which means “the one who kills you with a smile” in Zulu. Once again, the A.N.C. trounced the opposition.
The other players — the Democratic Alliance; a new, self-proclaimed Marxist-Leninist party called the Economic Freedom Fighters; the dying horse that is Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi’s Inkatha Freedom Party; and various other minor leaguers — made all the noises you’d expect from small opponents trying to dislodge a power-drunk giant. Some of us even rooted for those no-hopers; no one has street cred like the underdogs, and for a time there everything had seemed rickety.The other players — the Democratic Alliance; a new, self-proclaimed Marxist-Leninist party called the Economic Freedom Fighters; the dying horse that is Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi’s Inkatha Freedom Party; and various other minor leaguers — made all the noises you’d expect from small opponents trying to dislodge a power-drunk giant. Some of us even rooted for those no-hopers; no one has street cred like the underdogs, and for a time there everything had seemed rickety.
Looking back over the last couple of years, I saw images redolent of apartheid-era uprisings: petrol bombs hurled at public amenities; striking miners massacred in Marikana, the platinum beltway; etc. A foreigner visiting South Africa might have wondered if ordinary people still believed in their liberators. I wondered myself.Looking back over the last couple of years, I saw images redolent of apartheid-era uprisings: petrol bombs hurled at public amenities; striking miners massacred in Marikana, the platinum beltway; etc. A foreigner visiting South Africa might have wondered if ordinary people still believed in their liberators. I wondered myself.
A week before the voting, I went to downtown “Jozi,” as its denizens call the city. Although not actually depressed economically, the area looks more and more like the District 9 of the dystopian movie, lined with makeshift Pakistani-owned mobile-phone shops and street hawkers selling cheap Made-in-China apparel. On one of these streets, outside Johannesburg Polytech Institute, I overheard this conversation among a group of teenage schoolgirls:A week before the voting, I went to downtown “Jozi,” as its denizens call the city. Although not actually depressed economically, the area looks more and more like the District 9 of the dystopian movie, lined with makeshift Pakistani-owned mobile-phone shops and street hawkers selling cheap Made-in-China apparel. On one of these streets, outside Johannesburg Polytech Institute, I overheard this conversation among a group of teenage schoolgirls:
“That guy must go, and with him his looting friends,” one said.“That guy must go, and with him his looting friends,” one said.
“That guy Jacob Zuma,” another said. “Pity I don’t qualify to vote, otherwise I would vote a hundred votes against him.”“That guy Jacob Zuma,” another said. “Pity I don’t qualify to vote, otherwise I would vote a hundred votes against him.”
“No, you are only allowed one vote my friend. One man one vote,” said a third.“No, you are only allowed one vote my friend. One man one vote,” said a third.
In the end, the A.N.C. won with a commanding 62 percent of the total vote. The Democratic Alliance scored 22 percent, most of it apparently gained from the middle-classers among the “born frees,” the generation of South Africans too young to have experienced apartheid directly. The newbie E.F.F. did well with the poorer born frees, and got 6 percent.In the end, the A.N.C. won with a commanding 62 percent of the total vote. The Democratic Alliance scored 22 percent, most of it apparently gained from the middle-classers among the “born frees,” the generation of South Africans too young to have experienced apartheid directly. The newbie E.F.F. did well with the poorer born frees, and got 6 percent.
Oh well; we’ve been here before. In a 20-year cycle, you slowly make peace with the idea that some things don’t change.Oh well; we’ve been here before. In a 20-year cycle, you slowly make peace with the idea that some things don’t change.
The night before the election I had dinner with my friend Tselane Tambo at an upscale Greek joint in an affluent northern suburb. “Of course these guys are all jokes,” she said. Tselane is the youngest daughter of the A.N.C.’s longest-serving president, Oliver Reginald Tambo. A columnist and blogger, she often tweets off radical statements about her dislike for the current state of the party she was born into.The night before the election I had dinner with my friend Tselane Tambo at an upscale Greek joint in an affluent northern suburb. “Of course these guys are all jokes,” she said. Tselane is the youngest daughter of the A.N.C.’s longest-serving president, Oliver Reginald Tambo. A columnist and blogger, she often tweets off radical statements about her dislike for the current state of the party she was born into.
Picking up The Star, a daily rag, she jabbed a headline on the front page with a pinkie. “Look! Look at this.” The article said the public works department had spent about $21 million on security upgrades to Mr. Zuma’s home, including a new “fire-fighting” swimming pool. (He claimed to have felt unsafe since another house of his was burned down and one of his wives was raped.) Tselane rolled her eyes: “The country’s in tatters, and leaders are lining their pockets.”Picking up The Star, a daily rag, she jabbed a headline on the front page with a pinkie. “Look! Look at this.” The article said the public works department had spent about $21 million on security upgrades to Mr. Zuma’s home, including a new “fire-fighting” swimming pool. (He claimed to have felt unsafe since another house of his was burned down and one of his wives was raped.) Tselane rolled her eyes: “The country’s in tatters, and leaders are lining their pockets.”
Then she grew sullen. “But the A.N.C. is my home,” she said. “I was born A.N.C., and that’s all I know.”Then she grew sullen. “But the A.N.C. is my home,” she said. “I was born A.N.C., and that’s all I know.”
On election day I packed my family in a taxi, and headed to the local voting station. We live in Killarney, a suburb adjacent to Mandela’s last neighborhood, Houghton. Polling here takes place at the golf club. This makes me, a freelance author in a country that hardly reads, what Mr. Zuma has called a “clever” black, a member of a professional elite that is out of touch, he says, with the poor blacks he claims to represent.On election day I packed my family in a taxi, and headed to the local voting station. We live in Killarney, a suburb adjacent to Mandela’s last neighborhood, Houghton. Polling here takes place at the golf club. This makes me, a freelance author in a country that hardly reads, what Mr. Zuma has called a “clever” black, a member of a professional elite that is out of touch, he says, with the poor blacks he claims to represent.
Soon I found myself in line with Tito Mboweni, a former governor of the Reserve Bank, and Trevor Manuel, a former finance minister — both veterans of the A.N.C., both biting critics of it. As we edged toward the makeshift ballot room, a white woman in her 50s strode out. She was dressed all in black with a clingy vest that read: “Remember Marikana’s Fallen Soldiers. They Died for Us.” A walking billboard for the ultra-left E.F.F.Soon I found myself in line with Tito Mboweni, a former governor of the Reserve Bank, and Trevor Manuel, a former finance minister — both veterans of the A.N.C., both biting critics of it. As we edged toward the makeshift ballot room, a white woman in her 50s strode out. She was dressed all in black with a clingy vest that read: “Remember Marikana’s Fallen Soldiers. They Died for Us.” A walking billboard for the ultra-left E.F.F.
She passed by me and said, sobbing, “This is way too much. This has been an emotional day. The workers will rule one day.”She passed by me and said, sobbing, “This is way too much. This has been an emotional day. The workers will rule one day.”
Maybe. For now, though, no matter how disenchanted we are with corruption and our clown of a president, South Africans remain a loyal bunch. As a car attendant outside the Killarney Country Club put it: “Even when my wife cheats on me, I can’t ‘unwife’ her just like that. I am A.N.C. in my blood. They are useless, they eat only with the rich, but hey, they are the party of my forefathers. “It is like the church you were baptized in.” Amen. Maybe. For now, though, no matter how disenchanted we are with corruption and our clown of a president, South Africans remain a loyal bunch. As a car attendant outside the Killarney Country Club put it: “Even when my wife cheats on me, I can’t ‘unwife’ her just like that. I am A.N.C. in my blood. They are useless, they eat only with the rich, but hey, they are the party of my forefathers. It is like the church you were baptized in.” Amen.
Bongani Madondo is a senior editor at the South African edition of Rolling Stone and the author of “Hot Type” and the upcoming “Sigh, the Beloved Country.”Bongani Madondo is a senior editor at the South African edition of Rolling Stone and the author of “Hot Type” and the upcoming “Sigh, the Beloved Country.”