So, let’s see, who are those who are to be killed?
Xolela Mangcu
I CANNOT say I know how to kill. I have thus been racking my brain lately trying to imagine what lurks in the mind of would-be killers Julius Malema, leader of the African National Congress Youth League, and Zwelinzima Vavi, secretarygeneral of the Congress of South African Trade Unions.
I presume the first order of business would be identifying who is to be killed. We can of course speculate on the targets. It’s really easy, actually. We can do a sectoral analysis of who the enemies of the revolution might be — the same as the enemies of Jacob Zuma. Given that this is grave business I would not dare to mention names but the targets are all those who have been deemed to be persecuting Zuma. I think it is also fair to speculate that a couple of judges, including judges of the Constitutional Court, would be strong candidates. Then I am sure there are those members of the media who have been writing all those nasty op-ed pieces and columns about Zuma.
Folks, you better start going through your writings to see whether this is not the time to issue apologia. As for me, I’m not sure. Sometimes I’ve defended the man and sometimes I’ve excoriated him. But for those in the business of killing there is no time for “on the one hand he was with us; on the other hand he was against us”.
Then there are all those women who marched against Zuma during the rape trial. They know who you are, and they will be coming for you in the dark of night. I am sure the list of possible victims is inexhaustible.
Let us then move on to consider the method of death. Will Vavi, Malema and their gang of warriors shoot the enemies in the head even as they plead for their lives? Or will they dismember them in full view of the world to teach others a lesson? Will they set them ablaze in the manner of Ernesto Nhamuave?
And will they laugh around the burning bodies while singing revolutionary songs? Or will they simply do what many leaders did during the 1980s, which was simply to issue orders to the foot soldiers. In those days the leaders could still go around sipping champagne at society gatherings, knowing full well that the killing machines were in full swing in the townships.
Like Liberia’s Charles Taylor, the leaders can now still go about their business knowing full well of the death and destruction. Occasionally the cellphone will ring and they will politely ask to be excused from the dinner table so they can get progress reports from the killing fields.
But then again I do not know what it must be like to snuff out someone’s life, whether in defence of the revolution or of a friend or a comrade, or for any reason for that matter. I suspect I was never much of a revolutionary in that sense.
To be sure, oppression has forced groups of people to take up arms because they had no choice. But there is something fundamentally sick about a so-called democratic society in which so-called leaders speak so casually and brazenly about the ready availability of death as a method of settling political and legal disputes.
Our leaders have over the years shown us how to be immune to death. People have been dying every day in our communities — from the scourge of HIV/AIDS to the brutality of Zimbabwe to the criminality and the celebration of burning bodies. So when we begin to die at the hands of the revolutionaries there will be nothing extraordinary about it. And it will be just another day on the job for the revolutionaries. If they play golf, which I suspect they do, it will be par for the course.
But you know what? There is a part of me that says the sooner they bring the death the better. Maybe that will be our baptism as yet another African country that could not resist the postcolonial propensity for violence. A baptism by fire for sure, but a baptism nonetheless.
But the question will always linger: how did a once proud freedom movement become a party of death?