Tag Archive: crime


The gang rape and subsequent video of the crime which went viral in Soweto has South Africa up in arms at the moment. And rightly so – no person should be subjected to what that girl was subjected too. The rape itself is an horrendous thing to endure, but to have it recorded and watched by hundreds is just the worst kind of insult to add to the injury.

 

There are cries on all social media for the teenage rapists to be strung up by their delicate bits, for castration, for them to be locked up forever, for the death penalty to be reinstated especially for them. I understand this anger and I do think the boys must be punished – what they did is the worst kind of awful.

 

BUT – I think we need to look at the society we are part of, even over here in our air conned expensive houses and plush motor cars, that can created teenage boys who think this is okay, and other teenagers in their droves who want to watch the video of this kind of thing. Mandy Wiener said on 702 that she, as an adult and journalist, found it hard to watch and that she was the only person in the office able to watch it all; and that she did so only because she had to. Grown ups balk at watching it when teenagers, and younger probably, watch it for fun! This cannot be a reflection of the lack of moral fibre in the kids but rather a reflection of the awfulness they consider ordinary or normal.

 

These rapist children were not born evil. These kids watching the video and forwarding it were not born with a decreased sense of horror. They were babies like every other baby in the country. Only they were unlucky enough to be born into poverty and grow up in a deprived society. How many of these rapists know their fathers I wonder? How many of them have mothers who are up and out of the house before day break to travel to rich suburbs to clean houses? How many of them had the chance to attend a school with windows and desks and electronic equipment, never mind a sober teacher every day?

 

I am not saying this excuses their behaviour – but as long as we keep letting kids grow up like this we are part of the reason why they go so far off the rails that gang rape becomes a fun thing to do or watch on a boring Friday evening.

 

What can we do you may say. The problem is the governments, not ours. It is society not us. It’s not my fault.

 

We are society. And the government clearly gives less of a shit about the poor than they do about wives and mansions and parties. If we want the society we live in to be safer for all then we have to do something.

 

Do you know where your domestic worker’s children go to school? Do you know that many government schools have school fees of lower than R500 a year? R500 to you and me is a great deal less than it is to a domestic worker/office cleaner/petrol attendant.

Pay for one kid to go to school. Pay your cleaning lady’s electricity bill so her kids can do homework by real light and not candle light. Make sure the receptionist at work has enough food to feed her kids.

 

Maybe 100 of us have to try for there to be a different future for 1 kid. Maybe those are the odd.  But if none of us try then there will be no change. And if 1000 of us try, 10 futures will change. And all the people that child interacts with may have a different future too.

 

Idealistic you may say. But what other choice do we have other than to try! I know I am not prepared to sit by and allow my society, my country to breed kids who rape and watch rape and laugh. It is unfair on both the rape survivor and the rapists.  8 young people’s lives were ruined when that rape took place – and countless others have been exposed to gruesome images they are one day going to wish they could erase from their memories.

 

What are we going to do about it?

wine with dinner anyone?

Lefty wrote a sickish story about killing your dinner
I loved his story
and so decided to write my version thereof

and here it is

Hilton was very excited because his new friend Jesse was coming over for dinner. He had just returned from the grocery store with supplies for the evening and was busy packing them out on the counter: potatoes, rice, peas, gravy and a leg of lamb to roast.

After getting the food started, he went to the dining room to prepare the table. Hilton was a meticulous man, everything had to be perfect. It took him half an hour, but it was worth every second, the table was perfect.

He dimmed the lights, lit the candles and waited. Jesse was going to be there any second now. From where he sat, he could see the road in front of his apartment. He watched in a relaxed way for Jesse’s car.

Hilton hurried back into the kitchen to check the food. Once there, he realised that the rice was boiling over. Quickly he grabbed the pot and took it off the plate. As he was busy, the bell rang. He looked up and out of the window. Jesse’s car was not in the street.

“I hope this is not some random visitor’” he thought, “not tonight”

Hilton opened the door and was surprised to see Jesse.

“Where did you park?” he asked.

“Round the back,” said Jesse. “It just seemed easier,” he explained.

The dining room took Jesse’s breath away. He had never seen such a beautifully layed out table. Scarlet place set accompanied by a napkin of the same shade on a snowy table cloth. Two long candles, throwing shadows around the room, in silver candle sticks. Silver cutlery, laid out neatly.

“Ahhh okay,” said Hilton hoping that perhaps Jesse had parked so that no one could see his arrival because he planned to stay the night. “Did you bring the wine, I could do with a glass?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Jesse as he lent forward and put his hand into the bag he was carrying.
Hilton’s eyes widened with surprise and disbelief as Jesse thrust the sharp stiletto into his throat. A bubble of blood oozed from around the knife’s handle. Jesse grabbed him as he fell and lay him on the floor, funnel and bucket already ready.

Later that evening, satiated by the roast meal he had eaten, Jesse sat on Hilton’s couch, a glass of ruby red liquid in his hand, and smiled.


crime

Us South Africans love crime. We do! We claim not too and threaten to leave on a weekly basis. But underneath it all … we love it!

We get off on living in such a dangerous place. We love that we can watch movies showing the violence of the ghettos – and feel a kinship. That Ross Kemp came to interview our gangsters as part of his Discover series makes us proud. ‘Look’ we all think ‘We are as bad ass as the best’.

 I swear we minded a little that America got the 9/11 horror!  We haven’t had a good violent mass killing in ages. Our terrorists were so….beige in comparison. And now we are all rainbow nation, holding hands while our sports teams frolic through international defence.

 We NEED our crime to remain butch and solid. Without it, what excuse exists for khaki shorts and long socks? To whom should we pledge alliance if not to the fight against crime? It unites us and makes us feel like superheros.

 And Johannesburg dwellers lead the charge. EVERYone knows someone who has been directly affected by crime. If not, what kind of a woes are you? Just please just make up a story so we think you fit in.

 The stories. Oh the stories. I love the stories of crime that float around dinner tables and water coolers. I have heard the same story go from being a guy waving what might have been a gun at some people at a traffic light to a full blown failed hi-jacking with bullets and anti-white slogans flying through the air. The stories grow and grown, embellishment by embellishment. Even the protagonist of the story will let this happen without comment cos he gets tougher by the telling!

 We claim to hate the crime and yet give it more air time than any other issue. Victims eat out on their story for ages, perpetrators caught and punished feature on Carte Blanche and start funds to educate township kids. We all wallow in the possibility of post traumatic stress disorder and love to see images of strikes and taxi violence on CNN.

 But how many of us actually try to change anything? We put higher gates and walls around us; we electrify our surroundings and pay armed guards to patrol. We anti hi-jack our cars and teach our kids what to do when a man points a gun in mommy’s face. We make ourselves safe so we can have the dinner parties at which we discuss crime.

 But do we tackle the real problem? How many of us have contributed towards the education of a child other than ours? How many of us feed someone we don’t actually know? How many of us have taught a single other human being how to read, write or count?

 We don’t. We do nothing. We sit behind our walls, remote controls with panic buttons clasped firmly in our fat little hands, and we moan about what this country is coming to.

 Cos we love the crime! Without it, we may actually have to talk to each other. And we are not mature enough for that yet!