Questions: A New South Africa?

Thoughts At JB Rivers

I sat in a cafe smoking and I never thought that I would hear the mutters of discontent and anger billowing forth from the mouths of the rich so openly and unashamedly. Perhaps I'm naive or far too young to understand - my one and twenty years living as an anomaly in this country have sheltered me from the bitterness and dismay of the noblesse oblige, at having "their" country torn from them in such an egregious manner.

I thought I knew "them". I had been going to school with their offspring and indeed had been friends with them until the end of school. A natural drifting occured and in their eagerness to run to the Western Cape - truly, Africa's last "Colony" - we lost contact. I went to Johannesburg, eager to escape the alienation that a Black child feels in the Natal Midland's rarefied atmosphere. I was eager to reclaim my blackness from a situation where being black is both a handicap and a blessing.

In truth, I was tired of defending and explaining the merits of Black Economic Empowerment. Tired of trying to explain away the myth of the White Male In South Africa. The myth that say that a white male has no chance of success in this country, and that is why they all migrate to the UK in the hopes of "GREATER SUCCESS", which, in the current economic situation, has proven hilarious. My reaction to this myth is to laugh - these boys who went to South Africa's most elite and celebrated schools (that cost upwards of R130 000), with the added benefit of a University education and an illustrious Old Boy's Network to fall back on, who cannot fathom living in University residences past first year, resent that they are not the preferred candidate for a job? Really? Even statistically, the White Male Myth is simply not true. But try arguing that in your History classroom.

I really want to understand what the rich and preferred haved lost. By and large, they are the Masters of their Universes - mistakes can be made, subjects failed, drunken driving convictions can disappear with the swipe of a credit card, with only the whiff of scandal floating around the country club and Saturday Rugby matches. I remember taking a friend of mine from London to Hilton vs Michaelhouse earlier this year, and hearing her shock at the idea that Africa has its own Eton vs Harrow, complete with boozy Hooray Henrys, Sloane Rangers and picnic lunches, she felt right at home. Yet Black children of the newly minted are held to a different and much higher set of standards. Every achievement is fought for, every mistake scrutinsed and God help you if your parents are mentioned in the news in a less than savoury light - your very presence at the school is questioned: is your family's wealth the product of fraud, government or irregular tender? Never you mind, while they try to meet their transformation targets, you can appear in their pamphlets and encourage other black children to attend their schools.

Our money, which we view as an equaliser, gave us entry to the club, but never membership. We speak the same, our African idiosyncrasies are subdued ("acting black") our pronunciation corrected - by all standards we are the same. Yet we remain isolated - tiny islands of affluence. We have to be exceptional in all aspects: cultural, academically and on the sports field. However, we are not enough in the face of overwhelming achievement. We are not enough in our eloquence or our deportment. What they see us as is the usurpers of a legacy built on the blood and sweat our ancestors. We stole our own birth right, as if Essau reclaimed his birth right from Jacob in an epic battle.

Perhaps you will view this as the pissing and moaning of an overprivileged child - one who has been handed everything, wants for nothing and believes that the world owes them more. "What more do they want?". I want more. What I want may never be quantified or even be tangible to those who live in poverty and whose greatest struggle is to feed and clothe their children. I can never take away from that struggle, I don't believe that my existential questions lack importance or deserve not be answered because there are poor people in the world. I may look like I have it all, but I am not satisfied. I want more. I just need someone to tell me exactly what I'm looking for.