South Africa: Beyond the xenophobic attacks

My fascination with South Africa became stronger in 2014 when a close friend of mine, Joseph Onyeabor, returned from a summer holiday to Johannesburg with such amazing stories about the gorgeous landscapes, fantastic infrastructure, beautiful airport, connecting expressways, environmental cleanliness and constant electricity. These, many of them alien to Nigeria, were things that registered strongly […]

My fascination with South Africa became stronger in 2014 when a close friend of mine, Joseph Onyeabor, returned from a summer holiday to Johannesburg with such amazing stories about the gorgeous landscapes, fantastic infrastructure, beautiful airport, connecting expressways, environmental cleanliness and constant electricity. These, many of them alien to Nigeria, were things that registered strongly on the memory of my childhood friend, and rightly so, in a fair comparison to Lagos or Abuja.

The glow on the face of my friend when he shared his beautiful experience with me underscored the satisfaction he derived from that visit, along with his family. I had visited a European superpower at that time along with my family, but he made it appear clearly that whatever my experience, it could not have been more gratifying than the South African experience.

My friend used a phrase that has stuck with me ever since. “My brother,” he said, “the South Africa I saw does not look like Africa.”

At this point, I had a conflicting perception about the rainbow nation. Having read so much about the Apartheid struggle and the bravery of such great men like Nelson Mandela and Bishop Desmond Tutu, the first image was of a nation of such noble and courageous people. The other image was more recent:  the May 2008 incident which saw the untimely death   of 62 people (22 of whom were South Africans) in a wave of xenophobic attacks across townships.

My second perception is more photographic, thanks to the extensive coverage by the western media of how foreign nationals, mostly migrants from Somalia and Ethiopia, were dragged through the streets of Alexandra, barely a few kilometres from Johannesburg’s plush Sandton suburb, and “necklaced” –  a throwback to the summary execution tactic used in the Apartheid days. A rubber tyre, filled with petrol, is forced around a victim’s chest and arms, and set alight.

A simple search on the internet exposes one to an enormous body of scholarly literature that has emerged which explores the many causes of xenophobia in meticulous and sophisticated ways.

So, absorbing the enthralling story of Onyeabor’s magnificent experience in 2014 was not easy, especially in the light of my second perception. I had tried to make sense of how such a beautiful country with an array of notable black figures could watch its citizens perpetrate such hate crime.

When my opportunity happened courtesy of the Sage Africa and Middle East Summit, I was not sure what to feel about the invitation. The resurgence of the xenophobic attacks only a few days earlier did not help my lot. I was transfixed between a strong desire to visit this beautiful country and the sensible act of staying safe.

The desire to visit got the best of me and I soon put my documentation in place to get a visa. The South African consulate office in Lagos was gracious in my case to have issued the visa, as I clearly had less than the required number of days for a normal processing.

On arrival at the OR Tambo International Airport, Kempton, Johannesburg, I was overtaken by a strange feeling. Suddenly, the numerous supplications by family, friends and well-wishers urging me to be safe started playing back on my mind. I took out some time to carefully observe my pick-up driver, who had my name written on a white sheet, as if I could tell a dangerous person from mere appearance. 

Once I had identified myself and my luggage conveyed to the waiting car, I immediately asked, “How far is my hotel from the airport?” to which he politely replied, “Some 30 minutes at most, sir. It is the rush hour for people going to their places of work, otherwise, we could arrive earlier.”

I had barely settled in on the ride when I followed up with another obvious question, “I hope the route we are driving through is safe?” At that point, the driver smiled, looking into the rear mirror so I could see his facial expression and said in a soothing voice, “Haa, My friend, we don’t have any problem here. We are a very peaceful and loving people.” Though I did not believe what he said, his reassurance that I was safe with him was comforting. 

The driver went on to ask, “Is it your first here?” I replied yes. He continued, “You must be from Nigeria?” I was clearly not confortable responding to that question because I am also aware that Nigerians have been specifically targeted for attacks in the recent wave of violence. But without waiting for my response, he said, “I have a lot of Nigerian friends and my neighbour in the last 10 years is a Nigerian. You speak just like them”, obviously referring to my accent, adding, “I am from Eastern Cape, the birthplace of the great Madiba. I only work here.”  At this point I settled in properly and began to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the city of Johannesburg.

I had not expected anything less from the commendable hospitality I received at the hotel in Sandton, Johannesburg. Hospitality is one of the strengths of the rainbow nation and you are sure to get the best of it.

My facilitators from the Idea Engineers Marketing Communication Agency were also superb in their reception. Thuli Limani, also from Eastern Cape, made sure I lacked nothing in my bid to quickly settle in to give a proper coverage of the summit, which was the first in Africa.

I was invited to a cocktail the same day I met the other many participants from across the globe. I had said to myself I would wait for someone else to raise the issue of the xenophobic attacks in South Africa, but none did. Everyone had some glowing tributes for what they have seen thus far.

A few South Africans I interacted with did not enjoy the subject of attack on foreigners. The palpable embarrassment on their faces said it all. “It is the handiwork of criminal elements among our people. It is not as serious as it is painted in the media,” the faces seemed to be saying.

Urged by this impression of assurance, I told myself it was time to see the other parts of the city. I walked up to a registered hotel taxi and told the operator I would like to visit Soccercity, the venue of the first World Cup finals on African soil in 2010. The guy gave me those crazy bills they usually give international guests. I quietly declined and walked back to the hotel.

On noticing my despondent posture, one of the hotel staff, Nkosinathi Emmanuel Myeni, a male Zulu who became a useful acquaintance, walked up to me and said, “Big man,” obviously referring to my size, “what is the problem? You don’t look happy.” I told him my desire to see some important landmarks before returning to Nigeria.

Myeni, who took the patience to listen to me and what I could afford to spend, made some calls and got me a decent taxi that took me downtown to Soccercity and Soweto. Lincoln, the taxi driver, laughed helplessly when I again inquired to be sure the routes were safe. He said, “My friend, just relax. We have bad people everywhere. You have Boko Haram in your country and I hear you kidnap foreigners a lot but you don’t look like one of those people to me.” At this point, I felt the same way every South African I had confronted felt about the negative perception of their country. I didn’t see that subtle defence-by-attack punch coming from Lincoln.

He referred me to an article done for the Institute of Security Studies by Peter Fabricius which attempted to explain that there is a fine line between xenophobic violence and ordinary criminality directed at foreigners.

He went on to tell me, “If our governments (referring to Nigeria and South Africa) don’t do anything tangible to arrest unemployment, we are going to travel this route for a long time and the excuse will always be that people are taking the jobs of our people.”

As we drove into the neighbourhood of Soweto, I came face to face with familiar scenes: Children walking several miles to school, women and children in tattered clothes wandering around the street, electric cables dangling over shanties like nests, houses painted in the colours of a local product for outdoor advertising, young men sharing cigarettes and kegs of drink, others helping to direct vehicular movement around Mandela House on Vilakazi Street, Orlando West, in the hope of getting tipped, et cetera. 

As if he read was going through my mind at that point, Lincoln said in a gentle voice, “Sunday, our common humanity is plagued by the same things: poverty, lack of proper education, unemployment and poor social amenities.” I nodded my head in affirmation and replied, “Lincoln, that is so true.”

I had a quiet drive back to the hotel to keep my appointment for another dinner meeting with my host and a late night meeting with representatives of the Nigerian community in the rainbow nation. At the informal meeting, they had complained of how the protesting South Africans seemed to be more concerned about criminality rather than protesting the issues of jobs, drug peddling and prostitution. They said to me, “These attacks are often directed at those of us in genuine activities. They never get to those drug peddlers or human traffickers and they know them. If the police are sincere, they can fetch them.”

My second set of guests were old friends who came in all the way from Durban to see me after the nearly 11 years that we had separated. It had to be that night because I was due back in Nigeria the next day. Their worry bordered mainly on the protestants’ broad categorisation of virtually every successful Nigerian as connected to hard drugs, prompting constant security raids on their residences and business premises.

With so many economies battling recession for the better part of the past decade, the deadly triad of competition-survival-blame has seen fear of the foreigner rise across the globe.

As I reflected on my visit, I realised that however divided, unequal and structurally flawed, South Africa is home to a diverse population of people. It remains attractive as a home for migrants, some of them seeking greener economic pastures, others safety and security.