7 May 2014. South Africa is deciding it's future. The election campaign has been robust and the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) - red-bereted and with a lot of populist bluster and township (ekasi) swag - is the cat among the pigeons. They are talking a radical departure from the market friendly policies which came from the negotiated settlement of 1994. The robustness of the debates, the ruling party's willingness to engage with opposition parties an the general public on radio and television, and the high interest of the public in this election have been interesting to watch. This is true democracy at play, and those that grandfathered this country should be proud of what they built.
Even, Paida, 10 years old has had her opinions. I heard her talking to her friends about what party she would be voting for, while little brother, Zhizha, 5, wants to vote for IEC...the Independent Electoral Commission (!), perhaps testimony to the extremely effective advertising which the institution has done.
But I am feeling left out. On an afternoon walk earlier we went past a school which is a voting centre. I fought the urge to walk in there and join the queues, putting my cross in the place of my choice. But I cannot. I am like the foster child, the orphaned child, who is left to watch the cooking fires, while the blood family members retreat to the main house to discuss intimate issues or offer libations to their ancestors. He is part of the family in many ways, but he will always be an outsider when it comes to internal family matters...as I, a bona fide, tax paying naturalized "South African" am an outsider when it comes to all things for the citizenry.
The last time I voted was in 1996, in Cranborne, Zimbabwe. I miss having a say in the affairs of the country of my birth or the country of my residence. So I am going to make the tough choices in the next few years...it cannot be enough to just see what is wrong and talk about it abstract academic terms within my circles. Increasing we as young Africans who have been gifted with voices our fathers could only dream of, will have to step up and initiate the changes that are required.
Even, Paida, 10 years old has had her opinions. I heard her talking to her friends about what party she would be voting for, while little brother, Zhizha, 5, wants to vote for IEC...the Independent Electoral Commission (!), perhaps testimony to the extremely effective advertising which the institution has done.
But I am feeling left out. On an afternoon walk earlier we went past a school which is a voting centre. I fought the urge to walk in there and join the queues, putting my cross in the place of my choice. But I cannot. I am like the foster child, the orphaned child, who is left to watch the cooking fires, while the blood family members retreat to the main house to discuss intimate issues or offer libations to their ancestors. He is part of the family in many ways, but he will always be an outsider when it comes to internal family matters...as I, a bona fide, tax paying naturalized "South African" am an outsider when it comes to all things for the citizenry.
The last time I voted was in 1996, in Cranborne, Zimbabwe. I miss having a say in the affairs of the country of my birth or the country of my residence. So I am going to make the tough choices in the next few years...it cannot be enough to just see what is wrong and talk about it abstract academic terms within my circles. Increasing we as young Africans who have been gifted with voices our fathers could only dream of, will have to step up and initiate the changes that are required.
