While there is no golden rule, there is a kind of intuition that columnists should be seasonal in their reflections. So, this is supposed to be a column about looking back over old years and ahead to a new one.
As seasons go, this has been a pretty wretched year for many – economically, emotionally, spiritually, even politically (except for the mob purporting to run one or another faction of COPE), as the chair became the political weapon of choice in meeting halls across the nation.
Some were not directly affected by the storms but, having noticed how others were being tossed about, thought thrice of venturing out, instead hunkering down in a little corner until the weather turned.
Of course, this kind of seasonal analysis is fraught with inaccuracy and subjectivity and the natural human proclivity – exacerbated in South Africans - to wallow in misery instead of looking up, seeing the sun rise and anticipating a new day of opportunity. The glass remains half-empty.
There are few business leaders who will readily attest to having had a fantastic year. Most will find reason to be miserable about trading conditions and will only offer a positive outlook on the past or the next year under great duress – like when decisions have to be made about such critical matters as bonus payouts to executives.
One must wonder if, as suggested by the doomsayers, geo-political challenges are greater today than in the 1930s and every succeeding decade since then.
Is the world really in danger of turning back the clock on the rights of children, women, gays, journalists, migrant workers and minority groups as claimed by single issue activists?
Notwithstanding a litany of charges – corruption, bungling and insensitivity to the poorest of the poor among them – is the current government performing worse than the lot we had under apartheid, as indicated by the vile comments from ordinary citizens on any discussion forum? And are the policies they implement more archaic than the ones which gave rise to bantustans and group areas?
The middle classes in all societies may have been under threat from global recession but their primary identifier of status – what cars they drive – was not. An enduring pastime of the holiday season is observing how many new cars hit the roads at this time. This season has been no exception, as cars are being “pulled out of the box” all over the place.
And if the average Joe or Thandi is to be believed, this was a year of near-starvation, when in reality they were still more likely to have spent a considerable amount of time and money in as wide an array of retail outlets as it is possible to comprehend.
I’m not convinced that our life on the planet this year has been worse than any other 12-month period since the calendar was invented. Although I’m certainly not suggesting there were not major challenges or negative aspects associated with the milestones achieved.
For example, probably the only bright spot in 2010 we can all agree on was the amazing interlude we had for about 31 days mid-year, when we were the oyster of the world and the quid pro quo was seeing world-class football and enough celeb footballers in our back yards to last a lifetime.
Even that came at a price - an overly hefty bill for stadiums, and the emasculation we suffered as a country by a steam roller driven by the smug Mr Blatter who, despite pretentions to the contrary, is not the best fairy godfather a continent can have. At least we hung on to our vuvuzelas right up to the last. To think we even wasted one of our national orders, Companion of OR Tambo, on him.
But, the real trick to having an outlook that the glass is half-full, is to have a longer time-horizon, so that the life-challenging experiences of one “bad” year are ameliorated across a decade or a single dry season has a different value in the broader context of half-a-lifetime.
I’m realising the significance of a quarter-century horizon. Twenty-five years ago this week my feeble attempt at telling the story of a young mother who committed suicide in the bushes near the Nahoon River at East London gave me my first front page lead article and left me in no doubt that I was a writer. But it’s taken me that long to be comfortable with the mantle and not feel guilty that I split infinitives.
And today, a silver jubilee ago, despite the madness of apartheid, I was able to make a lifetime commitment to my sweetheart. No single season can wipe out that time line.
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