WeeklySA_AdminCowed:eThekweni reaped the whirlwinds of violent protests that unleashed mass human slaughter, looting rampage and lingering tensions between its African and Indian communities…
By Pearl Rantsekeng
LAST Thursday my colleague Mohau Mofokeng and I, travelled to KwaZulu-Natal in the aftermath of the widespread looting, destruction and the Phoenix massacre, which claimed the lives of 36 Africans attacked by Indian vigilantes.
It was the first time I had ventured outside my familiar surroundings around Gauteng, what with Covid-19 wreaking havoc and the recent violent protests having redefined life.
Mind you, I count myself among the lucky ones as my neighbourhood, in Johannesburg’s northern suburbs, was spared the wrath.
So, we took off in the dawn of last Thursday, and headed for KwaZulu-Natal. The drive along the N3 was long and scenic, as usual, until we breezed upon the southern peripheries of KZN, mostly the midlands area, that we came face to face with the horror of the aftermath of the “Release Zuma” campaign that ended in rampant widespread looting and burning down of malls and warehouses on July 12.
The conflagration was a consequence of protesters demanding the release of former president Jacob Zuma, who is incarcerated at the Estcourt Correctional Centre.
Zuma was jailed for contempt of court after the Constitutional Court ruled against him over his refusal to appear before the Zondo Commission’s inquiry on State Capture recently.
Just before the Tugela toll plaza on the border of KZN and the Free State, we chanced upon soldiers travelling in an armoured vehicle headed towards Durban.
For the first time, we were confronted by the gravity of the situation on the ground post the violent protests. Just sight of army vehicles, we encountered several between the stretch of Tugela and Marianhill toll plazas, evoked memories of the 1984/86 era of unrests.
At the time, we generally called white troops by the usual Afrikaans names like “bo Piet and Jan”, because they were mostly white and Afrikaans, and ruled our streets.
As we drove closer to Pietermaritzburg, just around the Chatterton/Armitage off-ramp just off the N3 Highway, the true picture of the devastation left behind by the arson and looting emerged. The Brookside Mall etched a spectre of a post-war edifice, barely a shadow of its former glorious self. It is one of the malls looted and set alight when the riots first started in KZN. Luckily, just across the highway, the Liberty Mall somehow survived the onslaught.
Our first stop was Durban central, where the march by The Justice for Phoenix Massacre Victims coalition was taking place. The march proceeded through King Dinizulu Street, where all the businesses, mostly foreign owned, had been closed down for fear of being attacked.
The owners and some of the residents were standing outside their balconies while some were on the street watching the marchers, numbering no more than 200 people, passed by.
The irony was that, unlike the previous week or two, where residents of the same town and surrounding areas were running amok, looting stores and setting them alight, today they were bystanders and seemed oblivious to what the march was all about. Instead, they were going about their business or were onlookers on the side of the road.
To those uninitiated, the march followed the brutal killing of mostly African people by Indians during what is now referred to as the “Phoenix Massacre”. This week, Police Minister Bheki Cele confirmed and released a list of 36 people, mostly innocent souls, who were shot at and others hacked to death in cold blood.
Most of those killed were from KwaMashu, Amaoti, Inanda and Bhambayi, which are predominantly African townships around Phoenix in the north of Durban. The march ended at the Durban City Hall, where the marchers handed a memorandum to the office of the mayor. This is where march organiser and some of the speakers had spoken “about the end to racists Indians who were killing black people”.
They sang struggle songs like Senzeni Na, a 1976 anthem sung during the student uprisings, but repurposed for the event to insult the Indians responsible for the massacre. It was during the march that the coalition’s convenor, Jackie Shandu, was alleged to have chanted “One Indian, One Bullet”, which has since seen him arrested and apologise for the chant.
Shandu handed himself over at the Durban Central police station on Monday after charges were laid against him by the Community Policing Forum and African Democratic Change organisations, and is facing charges of contravening the Riotous Assemblies Act and of incitement of public violence and racial hatred.
A drive out of the city to the Umhlanga/Ballito areas yielded further ugly sightings of wanton rampage described by the president as the result of well-orchestrated insurrection. Rows upon rows of torched businesses and warehouses in places like Queen Nandi Drive, Springfield and Mobeni – to mention just a few – betrayed ghastliness of the horrific scenario. At the nearby townships, vandalised ATMs added to the catalogue of macabre events.
The reality of it all sunk in like the glimpse of a bomb site from a war movie. Dlamini’s corner shop and the convenient supermarket that used to service the minor, but vital, needs of the community had been torched to ashes.
The panoramic beauty and ambience of eThekwini, which attracts thousands of tourists every year to soak its seaside charms, now resembled a canvass of a country after war. Nothing that breathed commercial life was left standing. Instead, all that greets an unsuspecting visitor today is a city with a broken soul. Actually, eThekweni has literally been disembowelled – its innards ripped out and ravaged. Sadly, though, life must go on. People must eat and now starts the long walk, and, in some cases, a long drive from areas like Shaka’s Head and Shaka’s Kraal to the nearby towns like Ballito and Umhlanga for a mere loaf of bread and milk as well as the use of an ATM.
This also means that for people in Ballito, an easy chore like going to buy bread and milk, which under normal circumstances took less than 10 minutes, has turned into a nightmarish mission – to join endless queues and contend with the crowds of people from the nearby townships.
Scores of Durbanites are now stuck at home, with no money and no work. Business has dwindled for taxis. Suddenly that adage – half a loaf is better than no bread – rings true.
What now? Where to from here? Yes, maybe you have scored and got yourself that curve flat screen TV you have been longing for, or that three or four-door fridge that provides the convenience of enjoying drinks with ice.
What do you do now that the loot occupies half your kitchen space, making a loud noise as it stands empty with only a 2litre coke bottle refilled with water?
I couldn’t help but wonder – was it really worth it, in the end. What are the lessons learned from this for us as a country?
