( What Does It Mean To Be South African? )

I’m sitting on the other side of my 25th birthday, having recovered from all the reckless, incessant partying, hangovers and various rounds of hair of the dog that are inherent in the infamous birthday weekend. Basically, I did a runner. I clocked out of reality and had a good time. But now that I’m back in it, I’m faced with numerous questions that will define me by the answers that I give. A quarter century is probably as good a time as any to sit back and reflect on some things; the lie of principles, the internal moral slider and a perspective that calms and rationalises the incoherent, rushing mess I perceive the world to be. And don’t get me wrong in that regard: the world is fucked. How I feel about that now as opposed to how I felt about it at 21, or even 18, is worth examining.

Kind of central to this examination of who I want to be and what I want to think is a question... what does it mean to be South African?

My nationality has always been an integral part of who I am. Where I am from contributes a large part to what makes me tick. It dictates, to some degree, the facets of my nature. My ideas on what it means to be South African have varied as I have aged and matured. Even as I sit here and write this, they shift and change with the direction of my thoughts and my desire to put them into words. It will ever be a thing in flux and perhaps because of that no one, least of all me, will ever be able to put into words what it means to be a South African - it’s one of those things that changes and changes the more South Africans you ask. And why ask a question you know you’ll never have the chance to answer?

Because sometimes, being South African means being a hurt person. A deep hurt, one that perhaps only time could assuage, one hidden from sight but felt so very often, one that permeates the very fabric of our consciousness.

Sometimes, being South African means anger. A hot, burning kind of anger that flares brilliantly and then dies swiftly. Or a slow, smouldering anger that breeds resentment and hatred. It means a chance that one day, being South African could mean the right combination of the two.

Being South African sometimes means wrestling with denial. We all cling tightly to this idea of democracy and the rainbow nation, wilfully ignoring the apparent absence of both. It means that sometimes, we like to turn a blind eye to how flawed everything is.

Being South African can sometimes mean true inspiration, and belonging to a nation that is broken and in pieces, but somehow manages to deliver examples of extraordinary human beings. Being South African has meant that even the youngest among us have inherited a whole lot of shit, but somehow manage to hope for the best.

But being South African also means being the scions of an extraordinary legacy, a story that never fails to instil a sense of faith in the good that can be found in humanity. Being South African means being part of a history that glistens with courage and justice and the ability to overcome the impossible.

Sometimes, being South African means being a part of a complex tapestry, where nuance dictates great reactions, and when nothing is ever as simple as black and white. Where there are many sides to a story and where different things mean the same thing, and paradox is alive and well, thriving in a society that is struggling to come to terms with itself.

Sometimes, being South African means accepting that, and then doing everything you can to help. Not to change, not to fight, not to struggle. Just help. Being South African sometimes means having an enormous capacity to forgive, and then to love. Often, being South African is realising that you are part of something bigger than yourself.

Being South African means so many things. To ask what it means to be South African is to invite yourself to take a look at the heart and soul of this country. I asked anyway, for curiosity is human nature and I am, after all, just people. What does it mean to be South African? Does it mean constantly seeking solace? Does it mean rise up and revolt? Does it mean passivity in the face of crisis? Does it mean... anything at all? I certainly like to believe that whatever it means to any South African, some of it includes just trying to do the right thing. I think that doing the right thing is the one of the many steps that need to be taken so that this mess is cleaned up. I think it can be cleaned up. In that, really, I am truly South African.