By Dr. Simamkele Hela
I am a young black doctor, a father and a husband. Despite the narrative the world sets for me as a black male. I am an educated black family man living in the leafy green suburbs of Johannesburg; you could say I have achieved a certain level of freedom as a South African. But it does not always feel that way. So, on Human Rights Day, I’ve taken the bold decision to share my thoughts with you. Being born towards the end of the apartheid regime meant that I didn’t know most of the struggles that those before me experienced, but I remember very well when Chris Hani died. The whole country went into a total standstill, we were on the brink of a civil war until the late former President addressed the nation, in that address the words that struck me were:
“Now is the time for all South Africans to stand together against those who, from any quarter, wish to destroy what Chris Hani gave his life for- the freedom of all of us.”
28 years later and these words still resonate with me and I believe this is still as relevant as the day he made the address. Chris Hani gave his life for freedom, a freedom that we must all still fight for.
I was born in Kayamnandi in the Eastern Cape. Coming from a home where both parents were unemployed, freedom to me meant working very hard to change that- making sure that we would never have to worry about the next meal or when the bank might come kicking the doors in to repossess the house, because the account was in arrears. For millions of South Africans, the fears that consumed me as a child still haunt their thoughts. My freedom goals were simple, all I wanted was to be free of the things that kept me up at night. The financial stability, the house in the suburbs, the cars in the garage have all become a reality for me. These have been achieved with a huge struggle between myself and my inner demons. I had to fight for what I achieved just like millions of black children fighting for a level playing field. Unfortunately, the motivators never got to see these fruits, but I do know they will be looking down with some degree of pride.
Reflecting on my own journey a couple of weeks ago, while I followed the Wits protests on social media. I realised that 27 years post our first democratic election, children face the same plight I did in 1993, they still dream of having a meal every day, a loving home with all the basic necessities, of going to school and completing their education and of feeling safe in their own homes despite the chaos that surrounds them. In 2018, the SA Child Gauge said almost 7 million children lived below the food poverty line, meaning their families cannot provide even the minimum amount of nutrition they need. The unemployment rate had increased to an unprecedented 29.1% as of the third quarter of 2019, with the pandemic striking hard and the rate of unemployment increasing, I only see these numbers worsening. From personal experience I know the value of having a dream and holding onto it to change your reality, but should a child have to dream about having a hot plate of food or accessing quality education?
As damning or unappreciative as it sounds, you can’t help but ask yourself what has happened to our country post 1994? Some may argue that it has not been as bad as others make it out to be, that more people of color have been afforded opportunities educationally and economically compared to the miserable past. The problem with this argument is that the skills that have been attained by students at tertiary level have been a total mismatch compared to opportunities and economic growth, meaning people have acquired skills that are not necessarily needed by the country in order to grow. Couple this with the population growth that is not in line with economic growth, and you get a country that is at a crossroads, a pivotal point that defines the future of our country. But who or what decides this future?
When the Freedom Charter was created in 1955, the main principle was that — the people shall govern. I didn’t know what this meant or maybe only partially realized how powerful the meaning of this statement is until recently. This not only means that the government ruling is a representation of us, its people, but it also means that they are answerable to us as the people who voted for them to be in power. If our vote matters then equally, so does our opinion.
This brings me to the question, what does freedom and dignity mean? It is a question I feel all of us should ask ourselves as it lays bare many truths as soon as you ask it. It reminds us of the increasing economic inequality in our society, the struggles of being a grandmother, a mother or a child, the struggles of being a student from a disadvantaged background in South Africa, the extra lengths we have to go through in order to just feel safe and lastly but most importantly it lays bare the struggles of being youth in this country.
After asking myself this question, it made me realise that the freedom and dignity attained for my family was afforded to us from the sweat and tears that those that fought for our freedom. While we must be grateful for this, we would do well to remember the past is gone, the future is unknown and all we have right now is the present moment. I could be content with my life as it stands, having achieved my dreams but freedom and dignity is much more than just me and my family, it is about my whole community and my country at large. This does not make me special it just makes me South African, because so much was sacrificed for the freedoms I enjoy, we simply cannot leave those still in the struggle behind. Is this not at the heart of Ubuntu?
Perhaps by asking ourselves what it means to be a free and dignified South African more often we might be able to develop better solutions to some the challenges facing our society. My perspective on freedom and dignity have changed since my childhood, it has become about the voice of our people, how can our people be heard, how can our people realise their full democratic potential just like the National Democrat Revolution did. How can we harness the past spirit of the freedom fighters, the people who were willing to risk it all so that we can equally share in the spoils of freedom? This is not an easy ask or task, as our people are barely afforded the platform to raise their issues, and if they are, they face little to no response, or even worse an armed response from our government. As we approach this Human Rights Day, I would like us to contemplate this question. In fact, we at Amani aim to provide a platform where you can express your response to this question, these responses will be used just like the freedom charter was developed, to help better serve the current needs of our people in South Africa. Because if we don’t fight for our freedom, for a space in the world and for our voices to be heard who will?
