Never has an X been more important

PAY attention, people, because it’s time for a one-day struggle. And we must be the revolutionaries.

Our X has probably never been so important.

FOR decades, Saffers have been battered, abused, stolen from, cheated, short-changed, left in the dark (literally) and lied to, over and over. Every day, sometimes twice or thrice a day, we learn of yet another predatory raid on money or resources meant for us, essentially adding to our struggles.

It’s been so egregious and for so long, we have become beaten down, exhausted by impotent rage, fury and betrayal. Vulturous and shameless people manipulate that anger to get us fighting among ourselves, so we don’t harness it to unite against a common enemy.

There are so many investigations and inquiries and commissions but nothing is done to get back what is ours.

Division, misdirection, fear are parts of the abusers’ toolbox. As are empty apologies and promises that it will end, it won’t happen again.

When it’s not greed and malice, it’s incompetence. Why, oh why, do we elect and put up with people who are simply unwilling or unable to do the public work we require to build our country?

Even as a young democracy, surely we have matured enough to know that promises made are promises never kept. You may get a T-shirt, a food parcel, and the lucky one or two may be given a house. As an aside: how does that even work? Do political leaders pluck names from a ballot box? Why is that person/family more deserving than their neighbours? And will they get water, electricity and refuse removal? Clean streets and security?

There are many “we demand” statements from parties about one or other issue and because there are so many issues, there are many demands.

Very few fresh ideas or solutions, however.

These elections are even more important to us citizens than general elections because they affect every single day of our lives, and all the basic requirements of living that life in the best way possible. Most people understand how a budget works, and know we need money to pay for these things. When it gets siphoned off into someone’s pocket, and we have to cough up again, it’s time to say enough, no more, we’re done.

Election day, November 1, is a Monday. For most, that means a long weekend to party, relax, unwind, stay in bed whatever it is you do when you are freed from “working hours”. Or, if you’re among the millions of unemployed, just another hopeless day to get through however you can. Please don’t.

It’s not hyperbole to say your country really does need you. Every single X is a voice, whatever it’s saying. Democracy dies when we get worn out and quit speaking out.

If politics is all about messaging, it’s time to get our message right back out there: enough dilly-dallying and moaning on social media. Give up a few hours of your time for the most important election in our time. Go vote.

AT THE time of writing, there was still no word on the fate of the four Polokwane brothers kidnapped on Wednesday morning.

Social media feeds were awash with requests for prayers for their safe return.

One feels for their parents – it’s every parent’s worst nightmare come true, four times over.

Not only are the boys missing, but without any form of communication from the kidnappers, the absence of a reason for their abduction would naturally increase their parents’ anguish.

In this case, with the parents being wealthy, ransom would appear to be the motive.

The incident highlights an important failure in our education system and in society generally: the lack of focus and education on child safety.

With high rates of violence against children in this country, it is critical

ROBERT* (surname withheld) is an industrious entrepreneur trying to make a living in the sprawling metropolis that is Gauteng. He is an estate agent and recently quit a reputable firm in Vereeniging, citing racism as one of his concerns.

He increasingly grew frustrated when his colleagues and boss would regularly converse in Afrikaans, knowing he could not understand a word. He says he knew his prospects at the agency would always be limited – he will never be one of the boys.

To supplement his income Robert is a gym and swimming instructor. He has quite a dedicated client base and is determined to bust the myth that black men can’t swim! He thinks he may have had a potential career in the pool at Olympic level but was derailed by having to flee the country of his birth following the political unrest and turbulence of 2008.

He arrived in South Africa from Zimbabwe penniless, with nothing but a rucksack and the hope to start a new life. He was a mere 22 years of age and could only speak his native Shona and English.

He has since become fluent in Tswana, Zulu and has some patchy Afrikaans. When he is not selling houses or finding clients to rent them, he is in the pool teaching a crucial survival skill and often working on his own glistening physique.

He has very few friends and likes to keep to himself. It is a lesson he learnt immediately on his arrival. South Africa was in the throes of the xenophobic attacks of 2008 in which, as people were being murdered, Thabo Mbeki sat brooding, deciding whether the killings were mere acts of criminality or motivated by something darker.

Robert figured that the fewer the people who knew who he was and his origins, the safer he would be. Despite his attractiveness he repels any romantic