The young Afrikaner

When it comes to countries, for me it's "love the one you're with." I've been traveling through England the past few days, in unexpected snowstorms, and it's so beautiful. I visited Wordsworth's Dove Cottage in the Lake District, where to my surprise we were showed around by a young black American girl with the beginnings of a transatlantic accent; and Hadrian's Wall in the company of a Bolshy member of my family, who compares the mountains of Britain unfavorably to Ohio with more rain. I guess the reluctance was understandable as we marched up barren stony hills and cobblestoned streets in the face of driving corn snow. But the British also invented the word "cosy" (we spell it "cozy"). After a long day out walking, you sink into a wing chair in a warm dark-paneled pub, or a slightly shabby wall-papered drawing room with a fire, and feel that your drink is well deserved.

A couple of nights ago I came downstairs to have a whiskey at the bar in my country house hotel and found that the barkeep was the same fresh-faced, slim young Afrikaner who had earlier brought up a supper tray. We got into a conversation about crime in his country.

"In S'th Efrica," he said, "it's getting worse. My parents live in a guarded, gated community outside Johannesburg now, but when I was growing up we didn't." He held up his hand and pointed at a recent scar. "Knife," he said, and told me how he had been robbed of his cell phone while waiting at his school for a ride, just a few months ago. "I looked at my hand and saw the knife sticking right up through it. I couldn't believe it." Unluckily for the robbers, plainclothes police were right around the corner. They stopped and separated the robbers, whose stories of how they came by the phone did not coincide.

"That wasn't the first time I was stabbed," he said. "I almost died the other time. It was a few months earlier. I was taking a short-cut home from school across a veldt near my house, and these two guys came up to me and asked for my phone. I said I didn't have one. So they asked for my backpack. It was a Billabong. I said no, and they stabbed me three times, right here in the side." He pointed at his side, a few inches up from his waist. "I fell down, and they started kicking me in the head. Then they left."

"But that could have killed you!" I said.

"Oh yeah, I thought I was going to die," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "They tried to kill me. But my stepbrother came by a while later and got me. He saw I was late coming home and was worried about me, so he went out looking for me. He's a big guy, works out, you know. He saw these two guys with my Billabong backpack and recognized it. They didn't see him, so he came up behind them when they weren't expecting it and just beat them up. Then he came and got me."

"Why didn't he call the police?" I said.

"He thought they'd just stolen the backpack. He didn't know they'd stabbed me. He took me to the hospital and I had twenty-five stitches. Right here," he said, pointing. "The thing is, the guys who do this, they were all black guys ('bleck ice'). I have nothing against bleck ice, but after that I got mad. Me and my stepbrother and some friends, about eight of us, we would go out and if we saw a bleck guy alone, we would just beat him up."

"But he was just as innocent as you were!" I said, appalled.

"Yeah, I know," he said, thoughtfully. "That's when I said to myself, 'I've got to get at of this country.'"

Comments

[Wendz]

Yes. And this is why I now live in France and not in Johannesburg. He's right. The crime changes you deep down.

[Sabrina]

Wow.

[Sedulia]

Wendz, I've just visited your blog for the first time. You're my first South African blogger...so interesting to read you.

I often wonder about what I'd have been like as a South African. My grandmother came to America from Ireland, but her sister went to South Africa, and I have cousins in Johannesburg, Pretoria and Durban. I visited the country a few years ago and it is one of the most beautiful on earth. I hope to live to see it return to normality.

[Wendz]

South Africa was a wonderful place to grow up in. I am thankful for my childhood. But things have changed beyond recognition and all that beauty doesn't hide the fact that people live in fear of their safety.

My Mom and a sister and brother are still there...and I worry for my Mom. Everyday there is some new incident of a hijacking or a murder or a savage break-in - 2 weeks ago it was 3 houses up the road from her and she is so vulnerable on her own.

My other brother and sister also gave up the fight and took their families to New Zealand/ They, as do I, appreciate their now safe and tranquil lives. Until you have lived with that fear, every day, you cannot understand the enormous relief when it goes away.

I miss home - sometimes intensely - but hope I never have to go back and live there. Not until the government does something to stamp out the crime.

[L'Amerloque]

Hi Sedulia !

Having worked there, Amerloque had quite a few friends and acquaintances in the RSA. Recently he looked up people he had known way back when. Of the "white" and "colored" friends and business acquaintances (whether Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, or Muslim) … they have all emigrated. All. Without exception. Of the five "black" executives Amerloque knew, one has emigrated, one is desperately hanging on, two are dead and the third no news. The nursing sister he knew was in the process of moving to the UK.

The skills are emigrating, the money is emigrating. The country is in big, big trouble. One is tempted to ask if it has not passed the "point of no return". (sigh)

Best,
L'Amerloque

[Alice]

Hello Sedulia
I've been reading and enjoying your blogs for a while but since I'm from the Lake District, this is the post that has finally got me to comment! Hope you enjoyed it. I couldn't wait to get away but appreciate it now of course and visit often.
I've lived in Paris for 12 years now and discovered Rue Rude just before you moved to LA.
I loved your post about American parents bragging about their children and laughed out loud at your description of Brits and they way they talk about their kids. I'm the same. So disparaging about my poor daughter. And she's only 3.
Anyway, I check in most days. Thanks!!

[Sedulia]

This was my first visit to the Lake District. I'd like to go back and spend a week, preferably when it's not snowing!