I remember the day I realised that I had an infinite love for my country. I was nine and holding the children's version of "Long Walk to Freedom" in my tiny hands.
The book was filled with illustrations that only added to the book's wonder, but it was its message that stuck with me. It was in this book that I first encountered the tenacity of the human spirit and the beauty of what democracy is supposed to stand for - equality, justice, freedom.
I held this memoir, an extension of the living hope in my hands, and I knew that I loved my country. How could I not, when its people are so beautiful, so diverse, so resilient, so strong, even in the face of the greatest adversity? I like to think of it as the kind of love that will transcend time.
But in 2020, in the face of a global pandemic, as well as our beloved country's issues of crime, corruption, farm murders, gang violence, gender-based violence, human trafficking, poverty, rape, unemployment and enduring racism and xenophobia, I am faced with the burning question: is a love for South Africa in this moment in time justified?
Is it worth it?
My peers, some of whom are equally as loving and as proud of South Africa as I am, want nothing more than to move overseas and leave what they refer to as "the joke that is South Africa." This view is shared by young and old alike. Is a love for this country justified?
My only answer to this question is an affirmative yes. In the face of everything wrong with our country, I try my absolute best to look at our country with the eyes of one who loves. I try to see it for all its flaws and all its defects, and love it for what it is, but never, ever to ignore its ills. Alan Paton has a book entitled "Cry, the beloved country" and, oh, we have. As a country we have cried. We have borne witness to the ills of our society and to its ignorance. We have cried.
We have cried for Jesse. And for Uyinene. And for Sanelisiwe. And for Tshegofatso. And for Courtney, and for Susanna and for Tazne. For Kirvan and Tracy-Lee and Fetu. And for Nathaniel. The heavens are far too filled with South African angels whose lives were taken at the hands of men who would not take no for an answer.
The heavens are far too filled with South African angels lost at the hands of those who were meant to protect them. News of corruption, even in the time of the pandemic, are normalized in our country. There is blood on the streets, there are children going hungry, there is widespread cruelty and sadness.
But within our country there is also unfathomable beauty.
I have laughed at the Idols' auditions. I know every word to Johnny Clegg's ‘Cruel Crazy Beautiful World.' I have tasted the deliciousness of the Gatsby, tjops from the braai, samosas, koesisters, samp and beans, pap and morogo.
I have listened to oom Oubaas's ‘vele gevleuelde woorde'. I have been elated at the representation of black South African voices on the soundtrack of ‘The Lion King'. I have laughed at Trevor Noah's comedic brilliance and I have laughed with my friends at many a South African meme. I have seen and felt its warmth and generosity, its kindness and hope.
When Siya Kolisi and Zozibini Tunzi were crowned ‘the head-boy and head-girl of South Africa', my heart expanded with joy and so did my capacity to love this beautiful land, my country. I have loved South Africa and I plan to do so until the very end of my days. But I know that to be a South African is to be incredibly proud and also to be incredibly angry in a somewhat simultaneous motion - at both the failures of the government as well as those of its citizens. Even the deepest of loves cannot afford to be blind.
It is up to us to change our country's narratives. It is up to us to abandon racist narratives and to abandon prejudices and pre-conceived notions. It is up to us to educate ourselves, and our children. It is easy to despair.
In fact, it is completely and entirely justified to be angry at the state of our land. But with that anger, we have the responsibility not to buy into racist narratives and to challenge the toxic cultures that cost lives. We have the responsibility to be empathetic and kind. We have the responsibility not to embrace the old flag and to not allow it to wave, even if the current flag is at half-mast.
- Flavia Davids studies law at Stellenbosch University.
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