To my Constantia neighbours and friends,
Losing a child is an open wound to be nursed, there is no cure. I have learnt that time is a teacher, not a healer.
In the tragedy of 15-year-old Franziska being murdered in Tokai forest , I find myself looking for the lessons. She was out running with her mom, her sibling and their dog, so it must be greater than “we must jog in groups”.
The South African reality is, it happens in most communities far away from but around us, every day. Parents, breadwinners, children young and older, pensioners, the disabled, anyone and everyone are vulnerable in their homes, on the streets of our city, our leafy suburbs and townships.
Until brutality comes knocking on our automated doorbell and remote controlled gate, we don’t have to think about it. We have naturally become unaffected and desensitised through the regular reporting of these incidents in newspapers and on TV, but usually it’s “over there”.
We have been living in Constantia for 17 years and I am always moved and inspired and saddened by how quickly our community rallies to help when there is a need. The fires in neighbouring suburbs is a recent example. Food, clothing, medical supplies, water, accommodation, legal advice, trauma counselling and an endless list of needs are met by those who can and want to help.
Looking harder at what prompts us to choose to step up and help could be one of many things: either there is a direct threat to our own comfort and security; or it eases our consciences living in our plush suburb; or we want to do the right thing and everyone else is doing something; or, hopefully, we recognise the responsibility of privilege?
Today is a good day to reflect on how seamlessly we respond in cash or kind when it’s something that happens on our doorstep, because we want to, but also because we can.
In Constantia, we have privilege and with it comes responsibility. For me, that responsibility extends beyond upgrading my home alarm, raising the electrified fences, spiking the walls, having cameras capturing all the movement around our homes.
The opportunity here is so broad; my wish is that this young girl’s life and death will also bring lessons on how to be a Constantia community, not just a Constantia society.
It’s not a situation-by-situation response, it should be an ongoing commitment.
Growing up on the Cape Flats, my experience was communal; we looked after each others’ families, we looked out for our friends. In Constantia we are generally separated by high fences, and indifference. There are many gold nuggets among us who want South Africa to work and we don’t know where to start.
Here is our opportunity: let’s start elementary dialogue about what is not working, why we choose to live here and how we use our power.
The majority of South Africa is more vulnerable than us. Representatives of that majority work for and among us, they walk among us.
As a coloured person with privilege in a democracy, I have experienced more prejudice post-apartheid than I did during apartheid. I consider living through apartheid one of my biggest privileges because I have a reference. I have lessons to teach my children as they lick their silver spoons.
Any unnatural death is a travesty and a reflection of our society. A symptom and a sign of something bigger than us. We have to start somewhere and let it be in our homes, in the classroom and in our attitudes as citizens of a community in trouble.
Please share your opinion. It is time for us to roll up our sleeves, do something and be someone who makes a difference.
Lisa Joshua-Sonn
Constantia