By: Chulumanco-Mihlali Nkasela
Young Black South Africans generally have a history of being radical and militant. The greatest example being one of the biggest events that has occurred in South African history that we always refer to – the 16th of June in 1976.
A good 44 years later, we find ourselves at a point where we literally have to beg the youth to take matters into their own hands by confronting the powers-that-be and reclaim their black withered bodies.
This begging, however, falls on deaf ears. Ears that have become ignorant and have had their brains lulled by the “1994 moment” that has brought a so-called “democracy”.
The question though still remains – for how long do we continue with this facade of a rainbow nation and a democracy that still fails black people. A democracy that, in fact, was not built for black people but for the comfort of whites that continue to plunder the inheritance of black youth.
Even the gunning down of 34 miners in Marikana failed to move the parts of our hearts that are still working and not paralysed by the constant oppression we live under.
The situation of being packed like sardines in shacks and living a road across a sewage system, does not move the young of this country any more and it has been normalised.
A life that continues to be a life of unemployment, of a great depression and a life of having to constantly live from hand to mouth, month after month, year after year.
A life that continues to be a life of homelessness, landlessness and a life of having no means of production as a black people. How is it that black people, particularly youth after one of the biggest political moments in our time #FeesMustFall, still have to be convinced and reminded of their situation?
The life of a black person is that of constantly having to think of survival but what we fail to recognise is who we are begging this survival from; who we are begging this life from and who we are comfortable with having to beg life from?
Are we comfortable with begging for life from foreigners in our own land? Are we comfortable with living like pariahs in the land of our birth – in the land of our forefathers?
Currently, we beg for life from the powers-that-be, in Stellenbosch. We are begging for life from the Stellenbosch mafia. They are only happy to offer nothing but bread crumbs from the big loaves that were kneaded and baked by the blood, sweat and tears of our forefathers.
All kinds of means of production lie in the hands of a select few that enjoy life with straws in Stellenbosch. So how is it that our landless and penniless selves will find #BlackLivesMatter in America more than they find their own lives to have value and deserve dignity?
There is still a lingering fear of whites from the majority of our people and this is a problem that Biko long diagnosed. This being that the black person can speak ill of the white men, as he rightfully deserves those vile words, but that is something that the black person can do away and far from the face ears of the white person.
This fear is not new. We, however, need to redirect that fear, channel it as blacks to lead us to a confrontation of the white man. We should fear more landlessness, being destitute and being hobos in our own land.
In the past few weeks, white people have proven the lengths they are willing to go to in order for them to protect what they stole and continue to enjoy. Now is the right moment for every black person to decide where they stand.
Do they stand with their own lives or do they stand with the people that still oppress them, even to this minute – the white colonial settler?
It is time that we manifest a black youth that can take over the country. The #JoziToStellenbosch collective has proven more than enough that this can be done.
Because at this point, I am dead sure that Mangaliso Sobukwe, Bantu Biko, Onkgopotse Ramothibe Tiro, Winnie Mandela and all our fallen militants are turning in their graves!
Our only oasis of hoping is a full-on confrontation, toe to toe and eye to eye in Stellenbosch.
Black Power! No Sharing!
Our Souls! Our Own!
Dead or Dead!
One Settler! One Bullet!
Each Bullet! Takes us forward!