I’ve spent the first days of March in Ti’s place. That means I was in South Africa when those eight policemen killed a defenseless Mozambican taxi driver. I don’t know what they are going to say about him to justify their acts, but one thing is for sure: in the eyes of Africans that man wasn’t bad since he followed the social rules. He was working in South Africa to support the family of a deceased brother, a local tradition called kutchinga.
Those eight policemen wouldn’t have to do it, for me to leave SA thinking about violence and corruption. Six years ago I wrote about a sleepless night in a Rosebank neighbourhood. Guess what? Six years after I had another bad night thanks to wild students living nearby. These days I am getting used to noise since my next-door neighbour is undertaking one of those never-ending construction projects. Yet, those students scream, whistle and make all sorts of very acute noises, car motors and horns included. The unintelligible music is just the background for all that. Thanks to them, I suffered from a bad migraine for three consecutive days.
Now I have to say that in the same block is a very important police station and one can only wonder if SA doesn’t have rules about noise after midnight or so (the noise I am talking about lasts until daylight, 4am or more) and why don’t they reinforce those rules if even Mozambicans, regarded as poor backward neighbours, keep such situations under control?
The answer can be only one: they do it because the next-door police station admits such wild noise and possibly is involved in it too. Noise is just another form of violence against citizens. SA is a permissive country in terms of violence and I don’t feel like writing a book explaining it. A permissive society is a corrupt society. Someone is getting something out of the ruling violence. That’s all.