It’s depressing, really. A tragic state of affairs. Racism is still alive in this country. Or at least in Cape Town it is, as far as I can tell. No, I’m not talking about white-on-black racism. Or black-on-white racism. Or even black-on-black racism. No, this is way more sinister. This is beggar-on-black racism and hawker-on-black racism.
And it is not that hard to see. You just gotta be black to see it. All you need to do is just drive to the nearest intersection with a traffic light anywhere in the Mother City. There is a very good chance that there will be more than a few individuals who use the traffic light to make a living. Some will be selling small items of art, some will be selling fruit and veggies, some will be selling flowers and just about anything else you can sell at a traffic light. Others will be selling The Big Issue, which is a magazine sold by homeless people (I’ve bought a few copies, it’s not bad). Others will be offering you Jokes for Change (funny money). And others will just be asking for money (Tchooning you straight, bra).
Now, there’s nothing wrong with the way they choose to make a living. And I totally support what they do, especially the Big Issue peddlers and the art traders. Some of their items are very creative, and I have a few in my room. But that’s where the problem comes in, actually supporting these guys. You see, it seems they have a phobia for black man in cars. An apparent mistrust for chocolate-covered skin. And for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. There have been so many times that I’ve been stuck in traffic and I see this guy walking from car to car displaying his wares. Being bored, stuck in traffic and this being month-end, I decide that I’d like to see whatever he’s offering, and he looks like a nice chap, and it being 31 degrees in the shade today, I wouldn’t mind supporting the oke. So I get my wallet ready as he nears my car. And then, just as I open my window and smile, the guy just passes me for the car behind me. And I noticed very well that he went to each and every one of the cars in front of me. But he just sommer skips me for the guy behind me without glancing twice. WHAT THE HECK!!
Then I notice something else. Of all the cars at this intersection at the moment, mine is one of only 3 driven by darkies. And, as I continue observing, I see that the other black dudes are also deprived the opportunity to part with their hard-earned 20 bucks. This is so not on. And since this is not illegal, there’s really no way for a concerned young man to get to the bottom of this. Why can’t I buy a model of the Moses Mabhida stadium made from coke cans and cardboard if I want to? Why am I not allowed to read funny money? Why do I need to wave a green note in the air before you pay me more attention? Is it because black brothers have a history of being stingy? Do black brothers perhaps have counterfeit money? Does this really qualify as racism? Does it matter that, more often than not, the guy at the traffic light is a foreigner? Although the Xhosa and Coloured guys will treat you the same way; funnily enough, white beggars don’t seem to discriminate that much, just my observation.
Most people will find nothing wrong with their behavior, but personally it sort of irritates me. It’s like people look down on my ability/willingness to support entrepreneurs based on my chocolate-reminiscent melanin-rich covering. And I wonder if this is only prevalent in Cape Town. And I wonder if apparent BEE types get the same treatment.
Sigh, the struggle of the black man doesn’t end.
I rest,
Mzwa
