Crime like a Cancer

This morning I still feel shattered by the bad news I had yesterday. A friend’s husband has been murdered. I feel completely helpless. There should be something I can do. 

It took a while to sink in and I hung onto the possibility that the person who was telling it to me may have got it wrong somehow ... maybe they didn't hear it properly; did they actually see it happen?  Or were they just passing on a message which they didn't understand? It’s as if my brain refused to process it.

There’s a cancer that’s eating away at our society. It is threatening to undo all the hard work that has gone into building the hope which was generated by the hardships we endured in the past. Cancer needs to be fought with everything you have in order to survive. And with a lot more if you want to carry on living a quality life.

That’s what we have to do with the terrible violent crime that is spreading day by day, touching everyone’s life. You cope by convincing yourself that it cannot happen to you. And then, it is in your circle and hits you in the chest. We have to stand up and fight this, before there is no one left to fight for us.

You’re only beat when you think you are and when you give up the fight. Today I am hanging onto that and feeling sad. Tomorrow I hope that I will remember something that helps me pick up the fight. 

Being safe

Carrying this camera around makes me feel very vulnerable. It does not seem implausible to imagine that while I have my eye screwed up to the viewfinder someone can come behind me, knock me over the head and steal my camera. I hate that I feel like this. I want to be excited by capturing special moments that occur in the normal course of the day (like the two women on the mattress in the bus shelter). Instead I have to think about safety. Of course the reality of the situation is that the camera can very easily feed a family for a couple of months (or someone's drug habit).

I love South Africa. We have travelled the world and I am always happy to come home. I love the physical beauty, the spirit of the people, the road we have travelled and the transformation we have been part of. I love all the ordinary people who strive every day to make this a better place for us to live in - the gogo in the township, the projects like Project Playground and the musician who gives his time to teach children in the townships.

Every time I return home, though, the news of crime on the television and in the newspapers feels like a physical onslaught. I think that when I am home I develop a certain immunity which is necessary for survival. And of course an automatic vigilance which makes sure that the car doors are locked or that my bag is slung across my body when I walk out in public, and so on.

Moving away is not the answer. I don't know what is. But I do think we need to make more of an effort to  be part of a community that looks out for each other, that takes back the park or the street. A community where we can call on our neighbours. A community that cares. A community where I can feel safe enough to take a photograph.