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We only find the need to talk about racism whenever a racist act has occurred as if racism itself were a seasonal event, writes Zwe Nxumalo as he reflects on an incident that happened to him many years ago in light of the what happened recently at Stellenbosch University.
Almost every detail of that evening stands out with crystal-clear clarity.
It must have around 2003, in a small coastal town called Richards Bay, that my cousin and I became aware of the fact that we were black. Not that we had not seen ourselves in the mirror and realised this before, nor that we had not watched TV and saw people who looked and spoke a language different to our own. In fact, we had, many times before, through shows we had seen on channels like Nickelodeon and sometimes through movies. But none of that had ever felt enough for us to begin to explore the comparative nature of different races.
Actually, it had never occurred to us at all to be conscious of the concept of race until that particular night. Because that night, not only did we become aware that we were black, but we also became aware of another cruel element to it; the perceived inferiority associated with the colour of our skin.
The ocean breeze blew coldly on our ears as we childishly ran on the tarmac road kicking a soccer ball. It must have been about eight o’clock in the evening or so, as a white van unsteadily wheezed towards us. Inside the van was a group of white youngsters, looking drunk as a skunk and singing some songs one had only heard during rugby matches.
We could see their rage and anger
The group began screaming several things in our direction that sounded more or less like curses. Our grasp of the English/Afrikaans languages was limited at the time so all we could hear were the words "k****r" and "die" in between their vocal hostilities. Even though we could not understand all the words, we could feel and see their rage, visible in their unfriendly gestures and in their angry looking white faces.
It was not until one of them, precariously standing at the back of the van, took out his "manhood", and pointed it directory at us as he urinated while his colleagues laughed in the background that my cousin and I truly began to feel frightened. Lacking in response, we stood and watched in relief as the car disappeared down the corner of the road.
As we made our way back home, both of us remained silent; the sound of the urine against the tarmac still lived firmly in my cold ears.
The odd thing about this experience was that I had always understood urine to belong to an unpleasant environment called a toilet. My mother had always attacked me if she found me urinating in any other place than the toilet. In other words, we must have been greatly unpleasant in that boy’s eyes for him to find it funny to urinate towards us. And even as we viewed the world from a feeble, childish perspective, his source of contempt became glaringly obvious to us. The only justifiable reason for his uncharitable behaviour towards us was the fact that we were black and he was white.
A clearer perspective
Many years have passed since then. With the benefit of exposure one can view the world with a much clearer perspective today.
Historically, it seems, racism has been an irritating bug at the ear of South Africa since the first interaction between black and white people. Put in another way, it has been racism more than any other "ism" that has divided South African society for hundreds of years. But ironically, conversations about race, God knows why, are the most taboo and most avoided in this country. Instead, we only find the need to talk about racism whenever a racist act has occurred as if racism itself were a seasonal event.
READ | FIRST TAKE: Allegedly racist urination video a wake-up call for Stellenbosch University
Furthermore, each time a black person speaks openly about race it is mistaken for a confrontation. Perhaps black people themselves are not socialised to be confrontational towards whites. They seem to have a natural acceptance of white transgression. American author Frank B Wilderson observed that the history of black people has been more about ubuntu and not enough critique. Perhaps there is a general fear to spark this important conversation because it can potentially offend the white population and undermine our fantasy of a rainbow nation. But one wonders, though, if it truly is a rainbow nation given that it appears to be sustained by persistent domination of one race by the other? If indeed this is the case, is the foundation on which our democracy is built not a shaky one?
In his collection of essays, The Fire Next Time (1963), American writer and protest essayist James Baldwin had this to say:
Baldwin’s thoughts are particularly resonant today as one grapples with the recent incident that has taken place at the Stellenbosch University, where white student, Theuns du Toit entered into the room of black student, Babalo Ndwayana, and urinated on his personal belongings in the early hours of last Sunday morning.
Of course, it seems that the white student had committed all his energies on ensuring that he becomes the face of racism in 2022. However, his actions cannot be viewed in isolation, or perhaps as a sporadic incident as though he emerges from some place in a far-off land, or some culture that does generally approve of his unspeakable actions.
Du Toit is a microcosm of a bigger societal problem of racism and unequal power dynamics that exist in South Africa today. The brutality of his actions, or their symbolic significance therefore, are but a reminder to Ndwayana that, as Baldwin argues, he is a worthless human being. And that his worthlessness is not a product of any particular fault of his own, but it is a product of the fact of his blackness.
No consequences
Du Toit, just like the group of white Unversity of Free State students who demanded black workers drink what was believed to be urine some years ago, and just like the boy from the van, is fully aware that the currency of his white skin gives him the power to get away with his terrible behaviour without any real consequences. It is only natural that when confronted for his performance of this gratuitous act, du Toit's simple response was allegedly "It’s a white boy thing".
Indeed, this cannot be understood as a random comment from a drunk student. This is but an expression that emanates from his understanding of his real place in the world; that is to say his sense of superiority over the black student is informed by his understanding of the structural privilege at the disposal of white people. In this way, it is structurally implausible to imagine that white people will ever resist the urge to urinate over blacks without any decisive tempering with the unequal power dynamics that exist between the respective races in this country.
- Zwe Nxumalo is a social activist, law student, and a writer working on his first novel.
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