Today’s parents, especially single mothers are raising a bunch of angry children. Such mothers blame everyone else but their children. Unfortunately, they do not see anything wrong with their children, no matter how many times they receive conduct reports regarding them.
There is a serious gap between the generations of children who were raised before 1994 and those who were raised after 1994.
In the old days, children knew and understood the expression that it takes a village to raise the child. This often meant that a child had to be disciplined at all times because punishment for an offence did not just come from one’s parents but any adult in the village could administer punishment if the child was caught in a wrongful act. It did not matter what one’s parents thought. In fact, parents would even praise the adult who disciplined their child and even impose an additional whip.
Those were the days when it really took a village to raise a child. An adult could send a child on an errand even if it was not their own. Children would not pass an adult on the road without forwarding greetings. It was a big offence not to greet an adult. It did not matter whether the child knew the adult or not. The bottom line was that children had to respect all adults irrespective of whether the adult was known to them or not. Such was the practice adhered to in almost every village in South Africa and, for that matter, the rest of the African continent.
Gone are those days, when it was a difficult task for a child to look the teacher in the eye. My mother told me that in their time, they would even hide when the teacher was passing on the same road on a weekend just to avoid eye contact.
Such was the high level of respect given, not only to teachers but also to police and priests. Those were the days when a divorced woman was frowned upon. Divorce was taboo.
When I was growing up in the dusty streets of Hammanskraal, the culture of respect was still rife. We too were taught high morals and values in terms of respecting every adult we came across, irrespective of whether we knew them or not.
I remember the time we were at Fatlhogang Primary School. There was a family which was run and controlled by a woman named *Bolobesi. This woman was highly protective of her children.
One day Bolobesi’s son *Tony was beaten by teachers at school for the offence of not wearing a proper uniform. Remember that corporal punishment was not yet outlawed. When the news of Tony’s punishment reached Bolobesi, she immediately stopped what she was doing and rushed straight to Fatlhogang. She was fuming as she entered the school yard in search of *Mr Matseke, the teacher who administered the punishment to Tony.
The villagers knew that Bolobesi was a fighter of note. It was a known fact that she had defeated many men in the village before. It appeared that even the school authorities knew Bolobesi because they did everything to hide Mr Matseke, otherwise there would have been disastrous consequences.
After that, Bolobesi took Tony out of school on the grounds that her child was being abused. Tony grew up to be an angry boy, not because of what Matseke did to him but generally because his father had left. In our street, Tony’s family was the only one without a father.
Time passed by quickly and before we knew it, we were in high school. By this time Tony had joined a group of boys who were not at school and they were already involved in crime, including house breaking and car theft.
Bolobesi was aware of Tony’s behaviour but not once did she lift a finger. One day Tony was arrested and spent six months in jail for vehicle theft. During this time Bolobesi would visit Tony in jail at least twice a month. Members of the community knew how deeply Bolobesi loved Tony.
But Tony did not stop his errant ways. He continued on a path of stealing cars, working together with *Tshepong, one of the local guys who had a panel beating business. Things went on and on until Tshepong and Tony fought over a car. Apparently Tony had delivered a stolen vehicle on a Friday evening and the next morning when he went to see Tshepong, he was told that police had come and retrieved the vehicle.
Tony did not believe Tshepong’s story and this led to their quarrel, which became the subject of village gossip due to the fight that ensued, in which Tshepong was left with a bloodied nose and a broken arm.
Tony carried on with his life without Tshepong and soon he got himself into a gang of criminals from a nearby village.
One day, a fight ensued between Tony and a boy from the other village. The boy fought like an ox and before we knew it, Tony was on the floor, bleeding.
That day he went home and Bolobesi was very furious to hear that Tony was beaten by another boy. Rumour has it that the next day Bolobesi sent Tony back to the nearby village to fight the boy.
Tony knew the boy from the nearby village was as strong as an ox. So he took a knife with him.
Again, a fight ensued between the guys and when Tony could no longer stand the heat, he took out the knife and stabbed the boy more than 16 times. The boy fell to the ground and died. Tony was found guilty of murder and sentenced to 25 years in jail.
Tony was transferred to other provinces, such as the Western Cape, and this made it even more difficult for Bolobesi to visit Tony.
But a mother’s love for a child can withstand all forces. Bolobesi made use of the resources at her disposal to visit Tony when time allowed.
“Death be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.”
The people in our village always said: Leso ke ngwetsi ya malapa otlhe, which means that death is the bride of all families.
In the 15th year of Tony’s incarceration, his mother succumbed to cancer and died peacefully at Jubilee Hospital.
It was the most difficult period in Tony’s life.
When the warden broke the news to him, tears rolled and, indeed, they were tears of sadness.
Today we face many Bolobesis in the terrain of education. There are children, especially boys, who terrorise our teachers and learners. Their mothers are very quick to defend them in spite of their wrong ways.
We call on parents to help mould their children. After all, charity begins at home.
* Hendrick Makaneta is an education activist.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.