I try as far as possible to keep abreast of events in South Africa, but a tragic bit of news had escaped my attention. A photographer that I'd worked with was fatally shot last month after attending a church service. Not content with that, the alleged perpetrators killed another churchgoer, in an apparent bid to steal the vehicles of their victims. Later, parishioners who met for a bible study session were robbed at gunpoint. Fortunately, the police were swift to react and made some arrests.
It seems people going to church are easy pickings for criminals. There's no chance that female congregants are packing pistols in their purses, ready to take on ruthless carjackers the minute the service is over. You stakeout the parking lot and prey on the pious, who haven't a prayer against the cold reality of a 9mm revolver. So might the thinking be of these faithless fiends. Nurses used to be the target. You help save a life in the trauma ward, step outside the gates of the hospital after your shift and the reward for your service is losing your life over a cellphone and some spare change. Just like the teachers, who endured the rigors of educating rebellious youths, only for criminals to teach them a lesson of their own.
But, back to the photographer. Elaine Anderson and I often worked together and got on very well. One Sunday, we were assigned to cover a standoff between supporters of the African National Congress (ANC) and the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) in the township of Umlazi, Durban. We got to the scene and felt the tension so palpable that the prospect for a bloody clash, in an ever-growing battle for control of political turf, was very real. Elaine took pictures with a long lens camera and felt that for our own safety we had to leave. I persuaded her to stay. Besides, returning to the office with just pictures and no story, wouldn't sit well with the news editor. We moved closer to the action – a situation not without an element of danger as fierce-looking, machete-wielding groups taunted each other. I thought about Elaine's children and grandchildren, and for a moment regretted exposing us to such risks. Razor-wire barricades kept the two groups apart and the military were in the middle trying to keep the peace. One soldier, sitting atop an armored personnel carrier, realizing we were journalists, and perhaps sensing our fear, gestured to me to from a distance to remain where we were, although it seemed that the more the ranks of armed supporters swelled, the more potentially dangerous it became.
Fortunately the standoff didn't result in a bloody clash, but I relate this story as one of many precarious situations Elaine and I were exposed to, mostly through covering the cycle of political violence in the townships. To come through all of that and be shot dead emerging from a church service is a cruel twist of fate. Elaine's daughter, Arlette Pillay is still coming to terms with the shock of her mother's death and church leaders have voiced their concern that violent crime is destroying the country.
A former colleague of Elaine's and a close friend, Clint Zasman was also a talented photographer. We worked together on the same newspaper and like the Fleet Street hacks of old, had liquid lunches in keeping with some of the vices of the profession. Clint was brazen and had a creative eye for pictures, although this photographic essay on aspects of the violence doesn't do justice to his talent. Some years earlier, he too was gunned down, not in the line of duty, but at a popular bar that we both frequented. Three gunmen entered the place, presumably with the intention of robbing the establishment and Clint was shot in the process.
Last month, one of South Africa's most famous musicians, Lucky Dube was shot in a botched carjacking attempt. I'd interviewed Lucky some years ago and never imagined that he would go on to become so well known outside the country's borders, his brand of reggae music even striking a chord with the folks in Kingston, Jamaica. Lucky's death made international headlines and marked my debut as a commentator on a Kansas City-based independent radio station.
These recent killings have once again cast the spotlight on government's apparent inability to tackle spiraling crime. South Africa has the dubious distinction of being known as the crime capital of the world. In 2010, tens of thousands of football (soccer) fans will be descending on the country when it hosts the World Cup. The country will roll out the welcome carpet and instead of smiles, there will be a flashing of guns.
My response might be that of the typical cynical journalist, but when I see a country and its people I love so dearly being held to ransom by rampaging criminals, while political leaders bicker about which billionaire or politically-damaged candidate should lead the country, I fear the worst for any semblance of security, peace and stability. Those in office don't like criticism of any sort and depending on the ethnicity of their detractors, respond in predictable fashion - racists if you're white and unpatriotic if you're black.
Besides being a photographer, Elaine took an interest in reporting and for a while worked as a crime reporter – a beat she liked, but only because she had a deep concern for the manner in which crime impacted on the lives of ordinary people. Lucky Dube composed a song entitled "Crime and Corruption," which ironically dealt with his fears of being killed by a carjacker. Elaine and Lucky both showed a deep-seated concern for the disturbing social ills in post-Apartheid South Africa. That the country has been robbed of such humble artistes is a testament of the pervasive influence of crime. The "miracle" of the rainbow nation's transformation to a new dispensation is being tarnished by the smoke and mirrors attitude of government towards crime. And it doesn't take a magician to know that it has to clean up its act.