“You guys are so angry.”
He said it casually, almost nonchalantly as he eased back into the couch. Our conversation had taken a direction I was less than willing to go.
As this visitor from the Kingdom of mountains spoke about how most South Africans my age were really angry at each other, I took serious offence because for the longest time I had found a way to justify this anger.
“It’s our history ok, you being from Lesotho should know the stuff we went through. We’re not going to get over it overnight,” I said defiantly.
He laughed, telling me that half of us weren’t really even there and even so, we had to learn to move on.
“It just isn’t a good enough excuse anymore,” he laughed.
I laughed with him because he was right, my anger may have come from a place where I felt it was justified but I didn’t make it right.
Reading newspaper headlines and watching the 7pm news bulletin, I’m constantly reminded of our anger as a nation and the sometimes fatal consequences thereof. Between the service delivery protests, road rage incidents and violence on our schools’ playgrounds – we’re definitely angry about something.
Is it something we inherited from our history? Is it just a passing phase that’s part of our adjustment to the way things are? Is it just the murmurs of a revolution that has been brewing over the past 20 years?
As much as I wanted to prove him wrong for calling me out – I couldn’t. I remember vividly an incident that took place in a mall a few weeks before I started working in this newsroom.
What could have been resolved with a simple, “Excuse me, you’re in my way”, ended in me looking like an escapee from a psychiatric ward. The racial slurs that spewed from my mouth shocked for a second as I said them but because I was so fuelled by this anger, I felt entitled to,.I simply carried on oblivious to the other shoppers.
That was the day I had an epiphany about my anger issues. I could have simply let it be and carried on with my shopping.
As a black teenager I grew up feeling ok with being angry. I mean, look at our history – how else could one react except with anger? I was always in defence mode – just in case.
But from that short chat with someone who looked closely from the outside, I had to realise that history should not determine what lies ahead. As much as there is no fault in acknowledging it, there’s nothing wrong with choosing not to dwell on history.
He is, like most people, able to empathise with our situation but finds some of our reaction to incidents a little more than questionable.
“You’ll bring in your history and race into even the smallest of situations. Sometimes it’s not even about that. I’m not denying that these incidents don’t happen because, having been in your country quite often, I’ve experienced it myself but it isn’t always the case,” he continued.
At this point I was obviously looking to call his embassy to send him back to Maseru.
He had a point and I couldn’t justify my way out of it.
Being told your feelings are unnecessary and uncalled for made me angry but not at him and not at South Africa but at myself. I was angry that I’d let most of my adult life be affected by my entitled anger. I allowed my history to dictate my present and possibly my future.
A big part of reconciliation is forgiveness and a big part of forgiveness is being able to let go – there are no half measures and it took a foreigner to remind me of that.
