Mike van Graan still causing us to pause

The honour bestowed on Mike van Graan as 2013 Festival Playwright allows us to see a compendium of work by this important South African writer. Four of his plays are presented by Artscape this year and Van Graan, who has a long history as a struggle artist under apartheid and cultural activist since democracy, still causes South Africans to pause. In Brothers in Blood, he presents a very tight script which takes an up-close and personal look at the politics, economics and social intercourse of Cape Town a few years after democracy. It is a community whose lives interact in diverse ways as apartheid, cross-cultural prejudices, social consciousness, religion, gangsterism and drug abuse all impact on the lives of ordinary people. It calls to mind Hollywood director Paul Haggis' 2004 movie Crash, as it interweaves racialised experiences of people who, on the surface, have no connections to each other. The acting in Brothers is superb across the cast but the youthful competence of Aimee Valentine and Harrison Makubalo as Leila Abrahams and Fadiel Suleiman must be highlighted. First produced in 2009 at the height if xenophobic and gang violence, some of the material may appear dated but one senses these issues are still very much a reality for Capetonians. Rainbow scars is a looser script which examines white mother Ellen's adoption of black child Lindiwe. Lindiwe has to deal with the questioning which most adopted children experience at some point about their place in their new family, with the added complication of dealing with alienation from her former extended family across South Africa's racial and class divides. On the surface, Rainbow throws up all the challenges of defining identity in a post-apartheid era. But typically of Van Graan's work, there is much more happening at an underlying level within the characters' lives. Ellen is divorced from her fraudster husband who is shortly due to be released from prison. Lindiwe's cousin Sicelo comes back into her life to expose the individual and family conflict hiding below. The other Van Graan plays at this year's festival are Panic with Siv Ngesi and the world premier of Writer's Block, directed by Jenny Rebelo. - Ray Hartle

Grahamstown does a damn fine job

It used to be a perennial one but I haven't heard this suggestion for ages - the National Festival is outgrowing Grahamstown. Or at least, the Standard Bank Jazz Festival is outgrowing Grahamstown, as it was presented to me last night.

It came at a packed out session by trombonist and virtuoso player of sea-shells Steve Turre and a bunch of other brilliant musicians. 

"I think it's time to have a debate about whether Grahamstown can still accommodate the festival," said a mate, looking across the packed hall.

That suggestion has been raised in different ways at different times - sometimes for political reasons, at other times for purely commercial interests, maybe because we've had a particularly arduous trek from the big city to this cold former garrison town, and, as an artist, we really do feel that our creative talents and the audiences appreciation of them may find better expression in another venue.

Yes, of course it gets a bit tight, and you may have to walk across town , squash yourself into nooks and crannies to see shows, and sometimes you have to stand in long queues for tickets or food, and there's no indoor venue big enough for the arts and crafts markets.

But this city offers itself once a year to the country and bits of the world. And it does a damn fine job!

 Where else in South Africa can you experience a mid-morning set by some of the best jazz exponents from0 Europe, the Americas and Africa (on the hill at DSG), walk down into the town centre for stand up comic (Riaad Moosa, Siv Ngesi or Boet en Swaer) then go across the university campus for a recital in the chapel of Benjamin Britten's choral songs (the Chanticleer Singers with Young Artist Award Winner Runette Botha).

The total walking time is 25 minutes, leaving aside a stop at the Village Green or a plethora of venue coffee bars for a quick snack (good food at a fraction of what you will pay anywhere else in the country), let alone the world.

And that handful of performances is among more than 150 productions running from 9am to 11.30pm - on one day. Multiply by 11 days and you get an idea of the tapestry which is woven each year by the festival.

That tapestry would be incomplete in any other setting. So, whatever may motivate a desire to take the festival out of Grahamstown, my view is its meant to be here. - RAY HARTLE

Our fucked up history!

Madonna of Excelsior. PACOFS production at the National Arts Festival.

Our fucked up history! That’s the gut-wrenching sense with which one walks away from this production, based on a story by Zakes Mda which itself was based on the Immorality Act case involving residents of Excelsior in the Free State.

In the 1970s, 14 black women became involved in illegal relations with five white men. When the women gave birth to fair-skinned “coloured” babies, they were arrested with the men under the Immorailty Act, which forbade sexual intercourse across apartheid colour lines.

The charges were later withdrawn, presumably because of the prominence of the white townsfolk implicated in the case.

Kobus Moolman’s script for this production comes alive around the identity quest of Popi, one of the “coloured” babies and now a councilor in the democratic Excelsior town council: Who is she and, perhaps more importantly, who is her real father?

Despite her achievements in the new South Africa, Popi is hobbled by her physical appearance - the fair skin, straighter hair and hairy legs – and the whispers within the community about her ancestry. The "boesman meit" (Bushman maid) slur from the white racist Tjaart cuts deep. Popi’s mother, Niki, was one of the women arrested in the Excelsior Immorality case but, together with the other women in the community, she has buried the past away deeply. Now Popi forces her mother to reveal all.

It is a painful story which reflects on the worst aspects of our past and brings into sharp relief the pain which affects all South Africans almost two decades after democracy. The chorus singing across languages is haunting and moving and a number of the actors stand out, although other characters require perhaps a more nuanced handling, especially where the power interplay between Boer men and African women is reflected. Most disconcertingly was the audience's laughter during extremely painful moments in the script.

Moolman's script needs to be tightened - I think fully 20 minutes can be shaved off quite easily without losing the sense of the story. The set is well-conceptualized but presents a hugely dysfunctional scene as the play progresses - I don't think this was director Roel Twijnstra's intention, although it becomes a clever metaphor for the "mixed Excelsior" storyline. - Ray Hartle

National Arts Festival 2013

So day 1 (Thursday) of this year's National Arts Festival in Grahamstown was a bit of a wash-out, mainly as a result of the growing concern that former president Nelson Mandela was on his way out.
The question most often asked by one festino of another is: What have you seen? This year, most people are asking me: Have you heard anything qbout Madiba?
Apprehension wasn't helped by a patently false Guardian report about life-support machines having been switched off and the ailing statesman having died on Wednesday night.
The presidency hasn't quite got the message yet that a daily (perhaps twice-daily), pre-arranged media briefing by a real person who is able to speak with authority on behalf of both family and state is the only way to manage the extremely high interest in news of Madiba, beloved here at home and hugely respected globally. Of course that requires a little creativity, perhaps, in dealing with the challenge of not having anything to say today which is different from yesterday. And creativity is not another word for spin-doctoring. it means telling the truth, giving credible information, no matter how meagre the circumstances demand.
But it is essential. Instead, we get regular reprimands about how the media are not respecting the privacy of the former president and his family.
Returning to the substance of the festival, it amazes me that, true to past iterations when it was on cue with what was happening in our country, the 2013 festival has managed to weave Madiba, his life and dying, into the programme.
In both considered as well as more unconscious ways. Mandela is very much a part of this year's festival. - Ray Hartle

Steenkamp: Chequebook journalism clouds ethics

Chequebook journalism, the practice of securing exclusive rights to information from a news subject by paying them handsomely for it, is practised increasingly in some media quarters, despite ethical concerns about it.

While many look askance at the practice, there is sympathy for those caught in the middle of a so-called media circus and who succumb to the pressures of interacting with journalists seeking an exclusive interview.

In a statement issued through their lawyers last week, Barry and June Steenkamp, the grieving parents of slain model Reeva Steenkamp, spoke about the difficulty of dealing with many media organisations across the world “who wanted to interview us about our life and precious time with Reeva”.

They had been “overwhelmed” by the number of media requests and as a result had elected to appoint a British agency to manage the dissemination of their story for a fee.

Paying for stories has always been an option open to journalists, albeit frowned upon by many practitioners.

Competitive British journalists especially are notorious for using any tactic to get “the story”, going back to the early political scandals of the 1960s, using lines such as “you can tell your story in your own words”.

The most significant payment in recent years of more than R10 million reportedly went to Rebecca Loos, who allegedly had an affair with soccer star David Beckham. The practice has also thrown up a cottage industry in media advisers and negotiators like Max Clifford, who work to get the best payment deals for their clients.

But whipping out a chequebook to pay a news source or subject for a story is not without controversy. As an incentive to perform, chequebook journalism can degenerate into a race to the bottom of journalism ethics.

There is a sense of emotional blackmail associated with the practice. The subject buys into the deal in the hope that they can preserve their dignity in the face of whatever traumatic experience they have gone through. Their hope that they can somehow control the story by using a paying contract with one media house often ends in tatters since the one who pays the piper generally dictates the tone of the coverage that emerges from the exclusive deal. And while it is hard to prove, those critical of paying for stories point to the danger of news subjects embellishing or even inventing accounts of their experiences to curry favour with a sponsor, especially where the story must fit the sponsor’s news genre or agenda.

And there is likely to be little comfort for the subject who thought that “giving in” to a media house dangling a big cheque would keep other media off their backs. The converse is that the rest of the media pack may take a less sympathetic reporting stance towards a subject who has cut an exclusive deal with one journalist, digging into the story angles that may not have been told, or have been glossed over. Having agreed to an exclusive payment deal, the news subject is regarded as fair game by other journalists.

In some instances, payments to news subjects potentially risk affecting the outcome of criminal proceedings where those subjects may be called on to testify. Lawyers have challenged the validity of a witness’s testimony in court on the basis that they had been paid to tell their story – or a version of it – outside court.

On the other hand, pointing to Rupert Murdoch’s empire, some argue that these media companies make huge profits off the stories of ordinary people and say it is entirely appropriate that subjects share in the financial rewards of having their story told.

A critical nexus is “the public” who, despite suggestions that they are appalled by dodgy conduct by journalists seeking an exclusive story, lap up every sensational episode of the story.

Chequebook journalism is not widely practised in South Africa, although celebrity weddings have been targeted by print and broadcast media with money to offer – and the enticing prospect that an exclusive deal will get the rest of the media pack off the celebrity’s back.

Various professional codes guiding journalists and media organisations in this country prohibit payment for stories to persons “involved in crime”. But where professional practice codes exist, more often than not they are ignored. It’s unlikely the practice will simply disappear, as some journalists argue that the end may justify the means, especially in a story which, allegedly, has strong public interest.

Invariably, however, news that may be in the general public’s interest is confused with news which may simply be interesting or even titillating to some.

The case of a newspaper paying racist killer Barend Strydom for an interview in 1988 is often raised as the most significant example of chequebook journalism in this country.

Wits University journalism researcher Susan Stos suggests though that the limited examples of paid-for news stories points to South Africa’s relative protection by virtue of its distance from international markets, where the practice is the norm, or the “relative lack of competition” among media organisations in this country.

She has argued that local journalists need to reflect on “their responsibility to be accountable, encourage dialogue about methods used and educate the public about the process of journalism”.

- Ray Hartle, Weekend Argus

Naming and shaming only part of battle

“Finally” may well be the response of the vast majority of South Africans who have no vested interest in corruption and fraud, to government’s “name and shame” initiative to expose fraudsters.

On Sunday, Justice Minister Jeff Radebe released the names of 42 people from across the country who have been convicted of fraud against the government. Given what the public has come to know through media reports about the extent of the fraud by government officials, those named represent the tip of the iceberg of the scourge of criminal activity by those in positions of trust in the public service.

Radebe’s department says the 42 were linked to priority cases which were fast-tracked because of the huge amounts involved. But a staggering 3600 government officials have been convicted of defrauding the state in the past financial year alone, with a combined financial value reaching R1 billion.

Such a tsunami of corruption in the public sector – and focusing on corruption in this sector does not exonerate private sector fraud - has serious consequences for our country. The analysis underpinning the National Planning Commission’s work identifies “rising corruption” as among key indicators of a declining country.

It was a notable feature of earlier post-apartheid governments that the policies which were developed took account of global best practice. This is best exemplified by our constitution, the envy of democrats in many jurisdictions. It became patently clear, however, that government’s ability – and desire - to apply policy evenly and consistently was sorely lacking.

An example of good policy is the law which probably underpinned the convictions thatRadebe disclosed, the Prevention and Combating of Corrupt Activities Act. This legislation has many useful features, including the register of tender defaulters. It was passed in 2004, yet apparently it has taken almost a decade for it to have any significant, widespread effect.

Sadly, today, it cannot even be argued that government policy will always be in the best interests of the majority – and fully recognise all the basic rights of minorities. Special interests, perverse self-aggrandisement and party political policy blind spots have put paid to that. As a result, it is not unreasonable to fear that weak policy formulation will combine with feeble application of the policy to ensure continued, wanton plundering of State resources.

Radebe’s department has correctly stated that these corrupt officials earn huge salaries even as they defraud the government entities employing them. As disgusted as we must be by the direct loss to the fiscus of their actions, it is the potentially more deleterious impact on the progress of service delivery in our country which must alarm all South Africans.

When resources are diverted into the pockets of crooked officials and their associates, it is the poorest of the poor who suffer, as the provision of a host of services is severely curtailed or completely dumped.

Absent the schemes to steal obscene amounts of money from the public purse, our citizenry way well have been more understanding – up to a point - of government’s faltering efforts to change their parlous conditions. But the large-scale evidence of fraud and corruption over almost two decades of democracy has seriously undermined the faith of ordinary citizens in our democratic process and put paid to any patience that disadvantaged South Africans mayhave had that their lot will change.

An ethical disposition was at the heart of the Batho Pele (people first) principle which government applied for a period and then booted out and there must be renewed efforts to promote virtuous service in our public sector.

In addition, there are signs – for example, Transparency International’s Corruption Perception Index – that South Africa’s international standing – not least as an investment destination - has taken a serious knock since 1994 as a result of the endemic fraud and corruption in our public sector.

In his Budget speech this year, Finance Minister Pravin Gordhan made an astoundingly defeatist admission: Efforts to combat corruption in the State procurement system had “too many points of resistance” and officials’ failed efforts to staunch the illegal outflow of State funds had “yielded rich pickings for those who seek to exploit it”. Well, of course it had. Did he or anyone else in the democratic government seriously think fighting corruption – like any other initiative of a post-apartheid regime - was simply going to be a walk in the park?

(Ironically, that speech also linked corruption and the need to address employee grievances in the R71.4 million allocation to the Public Service Commission.)

Human Rights Watch has raised the importance of governments holding all representatives of the state subject to the rule of law. In South Africa, until now, there has not been a reasonable expectation on the part of crooked officials that their misconduct would land them in court.

So, there are sufficient reasons to fully support signs of a flexing of muscles by government towards those who willy nilly divert resources from the poorest of the poor to their own well-lined pockets.

However, a caveat to this support is necessary:  Unless corruption is tackled at the highest levels of the government and not simply confined to functionaries in the bureaucracy, efforts to change our society through naming and shaming or any other initiative, will be hamstrung.Governments – to coin a phrase – rot from the top. And, yes, Nkandlagate in all its aspects,does come to mind.

Importantly, politicians must also be held accountable for incidents of crime which happen on their watch within their ambit of responsibility. Self- or party-serving executives at local, provincial and national levels who pursue vulgar cronyism must be held accountable.Anything less will not rid our country of this collective shame of corruption.

Gordhan also said in his Budget speech that there are “too many people who have a stake in keeping the system the way it is”.

Damn right. - Ray Hartle

I'm really not that into you

You think it’s just a simple click of the button but the buggers have set it up to ensure that you stay connected until they’re ready to let you go.

I’ve learnt that unsubscribing from unsolicited email services and newsletters takes, on average, at least three clicks. And just when I think I’ve nailed the unwelcome intruder, even after “they’ve” sent me a mail confirming that I’ve been unsubscribed, the very next day I’ll get another email offering me the latest gizmo or get-rich-quick-scheme.

For many years, Reader’s Digest magazine made a virtue of direct marketing using free gift trial offers sent to you through the post. The free gifts made you believe that somebody was really thinking of you. Trying to return the cloying gift at the local post office was another matter entirely.

 “Spam” seems a way too innocuous-sounding word for the maximum frustration caused by those who invade one’s email inbox, ala Digest, to market their businesses directly.

Some email updates, I concede, I elected to receive years ago when I had some obscure interest in those activities. But I’ve grown on since then.

Others were clearly recommendations (read: sales leads) from someone who claims to be a friend and who hopes to secure X number of loyalty points for including my email details. Or from my internet service provider, who have their own commercial reasons for distributing addresses.

In my inbox currently is an alert from Women’s Health telling the in-shape modern woman how to keep all her bits firm and in place. Often, there’s something about “how to keep him interested”, which amounts to keeping all the bits firm and in place or “how to interview for a job”, which somehow also relates to bits being firm and in place.

I have deleted missives from Homemark, FedEx, Imagine Cruising, Johannesburg Stock Exchange, Brian Williams, Kishore, Groupon, and a string of lenders.

I get a newsletter of karaoke playlists, another on EC news (usually two-week old articles from local papers), mails on courses from project management, through to photography and marketing.

I have offers to work from home – the online equivalent of putting your spit on envelopes. And political parties think they’ll get my vote by dumping weekly garbage on me.

I get invited to enjoy freebies including Apple technology launches – pity they didn’t throw in a free flight to the event in northern California; that would have been a great email deal.

There was the company selling new skins for laptops. Bizarrely, this mailing was actually useful as, just a couple of weeks earlier, a loved one had asked if I knew how to replace the Barbie glossy pink lid of her laptop, without trawling church fetes for crocheted laptop covers in vibey colours.

On Fridays, I get a long list of weekend show houses from estate agents with whom I’ve had the slightest cursory contact over the years, some of whom object when I spam them back.

Yes, I know there are ways of restricting access to your inbox, blocking mails from certain addresses or hiding unwanted mail so that you don’t “see” them. But there is always the danger that some important mail ends up being hidden by your internet service’s spam blockers.

The modern, online version of returning your free Digest gift at the post office is the “opt out” button which often means having to answer questions on why you’re leaving, hence the average three clicks to unsubscribe.

There’s seldom a tick box for “Because I’m flippin peeved off with all the rubbish you push through my mailbox and, by the way, I never asked you to mail me in the first place!” – RAY HARTLE

Crap driving in the 'wild East' is the pits

Crap.

It’s easy to think that sums up how road users in the Eastern Cape go about their business.

But the trick is to adopt a regal stance, as if you are a passenger in a king’s carriage and not driving the skedonk you usually go around in.

Such a disposition will allow you, literally, to waft through the madness like a blue light motorcade with motorbike outriders and remote buttons to switch the traffic lights on your way.

In this guise, you can afford to be kind.

Other drivers are not foolish bumpkins who should never have left their villages for the annual jaunt to the market. They’re loyal subjects who, notwithstanding some idiocy, do your unspoken bidding, including pulling over to the side of the road, in awe that you’re on the throne and all is well with their world.

You reciprocate with good grace, showing your homie a smart royal high five, not by asking “Whoa fool, what were you thinking back there?”

At the four-way stop street, you understand that mere mortal local driver subjects will take a wee bit longer than you did but eventually, they, too, will get the “first come, first go” rule, so no need to shout at the next dawdler.

Egg them on at traffic circles, gently, without reference to moving-anytime-this-year. They’ll realise they really can go, they don’t have to stop or yield to you. The same rule applies here as it does at all circles - yield to the right - except at those circles which have a big notice board indicating ‘first come, first go’.”

And never shake your imperial mace when the traffic lights are out and other motorists have forgotten that the intersection reverts to a four-way stop. Simply rely on the majestic four-wheeler’s accident avoidance design to get you out of trouble in the middle of the crossroads.

As for slowcoaches going at 15k’s an hour, don’t ponder the eternal question “why do slow drivers drive slowly?” or point out to them with your middle finger that you decreed 60k was a safe speed limit. Just enjoy the extra time to gaze upon your kingdom from the comfort of your cab.

And, they’re way better road hogging vassals than inveterate lane changers.

Sometimes, the limo will be a bit too big for rush-hour traffic. Don’t tailgate from your throne, or hoot. A kind nudge to the cars ahead of you will open up the extra inch you need to squeeze through.

A similar stately approach will work for those who stop slap bang on the “keep clear” road marking at the start of your driveway. Granted, they’re imbeciles, but they’re your imbeciles.

Indicators on cars are like your inheritance – carefully hidden lest people think you’re a show-off - don’t reprimand those who turn without indicating.

If others have not seen the arrow giving them right-of-way, don’t ask (through your open window): “What the hell are you dreaming about?” Wave them through with the ceremonial flag you keep on the dashboard.

Remember, these are like last-second indicators, slow exiters of parking spaces, the ubiquitous cellphone-users, those who lack the ability to anticipate what’ll happen next on the road - bad drivers but good subjects.

Cyclists are a challenge for any monarch. But they’re your followers too, despite riding all bunched up instead of single filing, not stopping where they should and taking their obscenely bulging lycra attire into half-decent coffee shops at the end of their rides.

So too with pedestrians, who may cross roads with a never-say-die impunity.

If you can, like Kipling, then ride with royal decorum with your fellow travellers. - RAY HARTLE

David's Syndrome, JZ's leadership & Christ's servant-hood

The legend of the fall from grace of the great Jewish king David offers sobering lessons for President Jacob Zuma and his government: the ascent to power is a greater corrupting force for a leader than any external stimulus to act unethically.

And yet Easter reminds us of the alternative model of servant leadership lived by Jesus Christ.

David, whose story is told in the Old Testament, does not so much blame his neighbour’s sexy wife Bathsheba, for causing him to sin. But, even within a modern cultural context which does not blame the victim, mitigating features are easy to find, with many, sadly, being resigned to “he’s just a man, a weak one”.

A paper by American academics Dean Ludwig and Clinton Longenecker shows that David was anything but an ordinary, weak man. (The paper, “The Bathsheba Syndrome, written in 1993, resurfaced last year after the resignation of United States Central Intelligence Agency director David Petraeus over an extra-marital affair.)

From a humble background, David was charismatic, a hugely courageous fighter, an astute and visionary leader with great organisational skills who went on to achieve success; a man of high moral character who ultimately was ordained by God as king of Israel.

Yet, despite both the quality of his life and his moral character, say the academics in “The Bathsheba Syndrome”, King David got caught up in a downward spiral of unethical decisions that had grave consequences for both his personal life and his country.

“David's failings as a leader were dramatic even by today's standards and included an affair, the corruption of other leaders, deception, drunkenness, murder, the loss of innocent lives, and a ‘beat the system’ attitude when he thought he had managed to cover up his crimes.”

The record as we know it from scripture starts with David on the roof of his palace observing his neighbour’s wife Bathsheba bathing.

But the impetus for David’s misdeeds starts a long time before he glimpses a naked Bathsheba. His personal and professional success as a warrior-king:

-          allows him to become complacent and lose strategic focus - he enjoys home comforts while his troops go into battle;

-          it gives him privileged access to information, people and objects – including a social status and a privileged physical vantage point from his palace to observe Bathsheba;

-          leads to unrestrained control of resources to commit adultery and the eventual orchestration of her husband’s death;

-          inflates his self-confidence that he can manipulate the situation, including taking Bathsheba as his wife after her husband’s death.

Not unlike the examples of criminality and profligacy by leaders in South Africa both under apartheid and the democratic order, none of this suggests an unfortunate tripping into wrongfulness and sin. On the contrary, David’s are conscious choices flowing from deep consideration and strategic intent.

In modern times, we have witnessed the spectacular fall from grace of many high profile individuals, men mainly, who have been highly successful, acquired wealth and prestige by dint of their skill or acumen and then orchestrated their own version of “the Bathsheba Syndrome”.

Golfer Tiger Woods, cyclist Lance Armstrong, and former presidents Richard Nixon and Bill Clinton espied dizzying levels of hubris, together with those under George W Bush who propagated the so-called war on terror, and global bankers.

The strong men of the National Party ruled South Africa with absolute impunity. Our failure in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to uncover all their gross misdeeds suggests they were more successful than David in covering their tracks. Or maybe TRC chair Archbishop Desmond Tutu was not as adept as the prophet Nathan who confronted David over his misdemeanours.

Since 1994, a swathe of corrupt ANC leaders, have been exposed in the fraught arms deal and elsewhere, while the extent of the Nkandlagate deceit on Zuma’s watch is mind-boggling for its grotesque audacity.

Communications Minister Dina Pule has been singled out for allegedly empowering her lover with money from state enterprises over which she exercises authority. But she is not unusual; time and again, Cabinet ministers have been outed for extravagant personal behaviour with public resources, pointing to the justification of the ministerial handbook when caught out.

SARS commissioner Oupa Magashula’s wrong-footing over an alleged job offer to an associate of a drug dealer is just the most recent example of high-powered if not highly-regarded individuals stepping horribly out of line. He is in good company with Oscar Pistorius, Joost van der Westhuizen, Schabir Shaik, and police commissioners Jackie Selebi, Bheki Cele and perhaps Riah Phiyega, if her appearance at the Marikana hearings is anything to go by.

Against the behaviours of those who have mimicked what should correctly be called “the David Syndrome”, stands the example of Jesus Christ, the servant leader, whose death and resurrection Christians mark at Easter.

His ministry among ordinary people without consideration of their loyalty or hospitality is in stark contrast to politicians, other secular leaders and even ministers of religion.

Christ’s entrance to Jerusalem on the back of a donkey as one of the triumphant moments of his ministry is stunningly at odds with the paradigm of leadership – both secular and religious - presented over the centuries. Here humility trumps the elevated status which is the usual mark of those in power.

His lonely walk towards Golgotha where he was crucified to redeem his world is the ultimate personification of sacrificial love.

Christ offers his followers now – as then – a radical turning away from their past lives, a fresh start, regardless of the extent of the sin and brokenness which may have been their lot.

Easter offers a chance even for leaders in our government to eschew the David Syndrome of using power and might for personal gain and to violate the rights of others. Easter is an opportunity for renewed reflection on and commitment to Christ’s example of leadership. - RAY HARTLE

A time to ask 'Who am I?'

Shortly before he goes to appear before the Roman governor Pontius Pilate and the Jewish authorities as a prelude to his crucifixion, Jesus Christ asks his disciples: “Who am I?” or more correctly “Who do you say that I am?”

It is a question which is at the heart of the Christian gospel and, therefore, a question which Jesus continually asks of us, his modern-day disciples. We would proclaim, mimicking the words of Jesus’s disciple Simon Peter 2000 years ago: “You are the Christ, the son of the living God.”

We believe that Jesus, by his life and teaching but especially by his death and resurrection, saves us from a life void of God here on earth and into eternity.

Jesus, of course, never presented himself to the Jewish religious council as the Messiah, although his response to their questioning “you say that I am” the Messiah, must go alongside his other Messianic claims.

He was never tentative in his understanding of his identity. He was absolutely assured of his relationship to God and clear on the vision that his life on earth would follow, as painful as that would be.

We don’t often have that sense of self, that clarity of vision. Significantly, we can easily lose our connectedness to God, as our identities become entangled in the best and the worst attributes of being humans on this earth.

As part of a Lenten course at St Alban’s Anglican Church in East London, we have been exploring notions of identity as individuals and as a community.

The question “Who am I?” is asked in other very specific contexts in scripture.

The book of Exodus tells us of an encounter between God and Moses, when Moses hears God telling him to go to the king of Egypt and to lead the Israelites out of bondage in a foreign land. Some translations of the bible record Moses asking God the question in Chapter 3 and verse 11: “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” God answers: “I will be with you.”

Later on in the first book of Samuel, the young shepherd boy David confronts the same issue when he is sent by his father to bring provisions to his brothers who are with King Saul and the Isrealite army fighting the Philistines. While he is on his way to his brothers, he is confronted by the huge Philistine Goliath, who has brought fear into the hearts of the Israelite soldiers. David, strong in the knowledge that he is fighting in the name of the Lord, shoots a stone at Goliath’s forehead and the man drops down dead. When Saul subsequently offers David the hand of his daughter, David says: “Who am I, and what is my family or my clan in Israel, that I should become the king’s son-in-law?”

Later again, having installed David as king of Israel, God sets out his vision for the king. David repeats his previous query but this time to God: “Who am I, sovereign Lord and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?” It is a question that he will repeat again to God: “Who am I?”

David’s experience also brings into sharp relief the fact that the question “Who am I?” is almost always followed by “Whom do I want to become?” There is almost always an aspirational aspect to issues of identity.

If identity is about being connected to God, it is also about being part of community.

In his book, The Christian Response, the French Catholic Priest Michel Quoist writes about connecting with “The Other”. He says connecting may be about offering a helping hand, a smile, taking someone else by the arm. It may mean asking someone “And how is your baby? How did your plans turn out? And then … what happened after that?”

But in order to really establish contact with another, he notes that first we have to make our way through life a bit more slowly, be genuinely interested in the other’s work, family, recreation, home, likes, aspirations, difficulties and struggles.

The South African writer Olive Schreiner once said that we should emblazon on our flag the words “Freedom, justice, love; great are the two first, but without the last, they are not complete”.

Sometimes, in an attempt to avoid any suggestion that we are racist, we try to ignore the differences between us but, as Canadian Anglican priest Heather McCance has said, “our differences are important. Our differences matter because they are a part of who each one of us is. We are all different, and God created us in such wonderful diversity”.

But she emphasises that what holds us together, is that we are God’s children.

As Christians, we believe that are drawn closer to God through our faith in Jesus Christ and to each other as a consequence.

We seek to live in peace with each other and in harmony with the world. And we desire to live holy and whole lives.

The message that comes through forcefully at Easter is the horrible, agonising death that Jesus experienced. Many Christians suffer for their faith. Most of us suffer despite our faith.

And it will continue to be an integral part of our identity in Christ, following each painful station as Christ carried the cross to Golgotha where he was crucified.

It will mean serving God, loving all, standing firm in our faith, speaking the truth sincerely, doing good work, being kind, compassionate and forgiving, and boasting in nothing except that we, together with the entire universe, are the recipients of Christ’s redeeming and prodigal love.

In Christ, suffering and death co-exist with resurrection and life.

Who am I? Who are we?

We are the sons and daughters and followers of God. – RAY HARTLE

Please just SHUT UP so I can chew properly

It has to be one of the special spaces on a hot Cape day – the piece of real
estate running along the railway line all the way from Muizenburg down to
Simonstown. Today is particularly special, with a steam train coming past,
the unmistakable rumble of the engine and coaches – so different from the
electric version - felt through your body long before the hooter has been
sounded down the line.

““I like this salad. I'm glad I got the salad. I like the sauce not the
liver. I never eat, babe, when it comes to liver and mussels, just the
sauce.”

Sitting on the narrow deck of an iconic Kalk Bay restaurant, the cool breeze
will compliment the refreshing drink I’ve ordered. Across the tracks and
about 10 paces of sand, a few families are paddling in the warm-ish water.
It’s midday, but neither the restaurant nor the beach is busy yet, Cape Town’s
notoriously slow start only just kicking in; except for them, three tables
away, every monotone, nonsensical word tearing through me.

“You know what my best is? She wakes up and then I watch her go back to
sleep,” she says of the infant asleep in the carry cot next to her. You
polish your food, hey - gone, nothing there? It looks nice though, hey babe?
Very nice. Have you tasted the bread, babe? It’s got a lot of spice in it -
some sort of spice, cinnamon, allspice, like nutmeg maybe, some kind of
spice.”

Boring, vulgar, nasty, obsessively drilling down into every detail – over
two, three, even five courses, loud conversation has replaced smoking as the
bad habit of choice in restaurants, says a loved one. Too right; go into any
restaurant – actually, any public space - and there will be some idiot going
off at an unnecessary decibel level, about silly, arbitrary things.

Some will describe every morsel crossing their lips, killing any interest
you may have had in that particular dish.

There are the lovesick talkers, out with their best friends, hanging out all
the dirty linen.

There’s another kind who’ll turn on their lunch partner right there: “Why do
you ask if I'm gay? It’s this frickin white hair.” And then proceeds a
diatribe about how he has this gay look but he really isn't. Do I care? Do I
look like I care?

Sometimes, patrons on cellphones will step out of line, like the guy in the
beachfront coffee shop yesterday closing a deal on a nearby house, but
they're easily swatted away.

Meanwhile, she drones on, her inanities interspersed with sweet pet names
for her partner. We don’t hear his responses, so some understanding is lost.
Sadly, we’re forced to hear her.

“It doesn't even phase me. I’m bringing it up cos it happens all the time.
You’re such a liar. And you didn’t tell me. You didn't tell anybody else.
You told Ed.”

“I didn't tell,” he begins, but she cuts him off.

“She told me. In your stupidity you told someone else and you’re lying even
now. And now that she knows the whole world knows.

“Why am I going on about this? Because I'm catching you out, that’s why. You’re
not even telling the truth now. That's what so infuriates me about you, my
love.”

Her partner tries to be sarcastic but her rant continues to roll over him.
Eventually, he switches off, an option sadly not open to the rest of us
diners.

Most restaurateurs care little for the bad acoustics patrons have to endure,
even when there are ways of putting a lid on obtrusive ambient noise. And
managers care even less about protecting us from customers who don’t know
how to keep their lips zipped when out on the town.

Apart from the obvious, like telling them to shut up, we have the choice to
move to another table.

Or move to another restaurant entirely. - RAY HARTLE

"Non-white political" lawyer retires from Bench

Bhisho High Court Judge Yusuf “Joe” Ebrahim remembers going into the offices of small-town white magistrates during the apartheid era to greet them before appearing in their courts on behalf of clients in criminal or civil cases.

But they rebuffed Ebrahim, presumably because they regarded him as a “non-white” political lawyer from the big city, Cape Town.

“I would go into the magistrate’s office to introduce myself. I would extend my hand and my hand would hang there. He wouldn’t take my hand because he saw me as a different colour or as an enemy because I was representing these people.”

He realised from discussions with colleagues in the National Association of Democratic Lawyers (Nadel) that his experience was not an isolated incident but the norm.

“My attitude in all the days that I’ve been practicing was to ensure that my conduct in court would give me the moral high ground. No matter what the other did, I wasn’t going to sink to their level,” says Ebrahim, who retires soon after 16 years on the bench in the Eastern Cape, in a career in the legal profession that has spanned 40 years.

When he took up his position on the bench, says Ebrahim, he was reminded of how he had been treated by other presiding officers.

“I couldn’t possibly act in the same way. I was also mindful of an unarticulated premise on the part of people who come from a privileged background that I was perhaps incapable of doing the work.

“I had a certain resolve that I was not going to allow myself to feel that I was on trial, that everyone was watching me to see what I could do. My resolve was to render service in the best possible way and in the manner which I felt was true to what I believed in.”

In this, he says, he was aided by the strict prescripts of South Africa’s progressive constitution, which make it easier for presiding officers to dispense justice fairly.

Ebrahim completed five years of articles while studying part-time towards a diploma in law from the University of Cape Town. He qualified in 1970, while working in the law firm of the late Dullah Omar, who became South Africa’s Minister of Justice after democracy. Later, he established his own attorney’s practice.

In 1996, Ebrahim was approached by Nadel to make himself available for a position on the Cape bench but, he says, he realised he was not going to get the nod from the Judicial Services Commission.

“I went to the interview and discerned early on, from the questions asked by Judge-President Gerald Friedman that he was not keen on having me on his bench. He thought my qualification was inferior because I had a diploma in law and not an LLB.”

As he walked from the hearing, Ebrahim was approached by then Ciskei Supreme Court judge-president Bobby Pickard and invited to act as a judge in this division, which was subsequently made a part of the Eastern Cape High Court.

Initially hesitant to accept the appointment because of the demands of his practice and perceptions of the former homeland, he later “came to accept that it would be good experience”.

Despite coming from radically different social and political backgrounds, Ebrahim and Pickard established an easy rapport immediately and Ebrahim talks highly of Pickard’s reception of him.

“Being in Bhisho broadened my knowledge no end because he gave me work that I thought  a senior judge should do but he thought I was quite capable of doing.

“The work that came across my desk would not have arisen if I’d been in the Western Cape because the more senior judges expected to do the more complicated matters, often for good reasons.”

In 1997, he was overlooked for a second time by the JSC for a seat on the Western Cape bench.

“(Being overlooked) sent a very clear message to me. My nomination by Nadel was a day late. No one else put in an application for the Western Cape seat. Theoretically I should have been invited for an interview. I said to Nadel they were backing the wrong horse (for the Western Cape).”

Shortly thereafter, a vacancy arose in Bhisho and Nadel successfully nominated Ebrahim again.

As an attorney, he also represented community activists, trade unionists and ordinary citizens targeted by the apartheid administration, across the country but especially in the Western and Eastern Cape. A notable case was his role as instructing attorney in the private prosecution for murder of policemen involved in ‘Trojan Horse' shooting incident of October 1985. The case was prosecuted in the Cape High Court on behalf of families of the victims.

He says that while clients under apartheid often chose legal representatives based on the attorney’s perceived political affiliation, “my clients didn’t see me as being in a particular political camp. I had relationships with people across the political spectrum of the oppressed – ANC, New Unity Movement, Azapo, PAC”.

One of the more painful moments in his personal life occurred while he was in detention in the mid-1980s when he received word that both his sons had also been detained for activism within student organisations.

“My own detention was an effective consequence of my political and legal work (but) it was very disconcerting to know my two boys were in detention as well.”

His experiences in detention have made him more understanding of others who find themselves in prison, regardless of the reason for their incarceration.

On transformation of the legal profession in the context of the controversial Legal Practice Bill, Ebrahim says the state has no place prescribing every aspect of the profession although government must find the means to get professional organisations to be receptive to transformation.

It was essential to get checks and balances in place “so that nobody can abuse any situation. We come from a past where people said ‘we know what has to be done and what we do is for your own good’”.

Ebrahim is concerned that excellence in the legal profession is being compromised by the “ideological trap” of an affirmative action policy that is preoccupied with making opportunities available without a concomitant focus on service standards to remedy the ills that exist.

“Some legal practitioners appearing before us certainly don’t have the skills to be representing people at this level,” he says, arguing that additional support such as mentorship programmes should also be given to newly-appointed judges.

“I would have appreciated a mentor when I came into the legal profession.

“I don’t know how anyone with limited experience can cope in a situation where they’re handling a busy motion court roll in a big centre. That is simply setting up people for failure.

“A judge has a lonely job – you sit there alone, it’s (solely) your decision and you suffer the consequences of whether it’s the correct decision or not.”

Ebrahim suggests that anybody younger than 45 should not “even consider coming to the bench”, adding that he has “taken flak in my own family” for his views on this.

“It’s not that I think young people are not capable of being judges but I think you need far broader life experience as well as the experience of practice.”

Ebrahim has a long track record in sport administration and community organisations, including Glenville, St John’s and Trafalgar cricket clubs; Heathfield Tennis Club; Wynberg & District Civic Association; Parent, Teacher & Student Association of Livingstone High School; SA Lawn Tennis Union; SA Table Tennis Federation and SA Council on Sport.

He was a founder-member, executive member, and vice-president of the Democratic Lawyers Organisation DLO in the Western Cape, which was the forerunner to the National Association of Democratic Lawyers  or NADEL.

He was also a trustee of the Legal Resources Trust from January 1997 to April 2009. - RAY HARTLE

What I've learnt from being fired

A new page, new beginnings, a new opportunity and privilege; of course, before you start, best to remember what you’ve learnt from the last couple of times you were fired.

You may be fired even before you turn up for work. One time, I was invited by a conservative church to address their congregation. It turns out they decided even before they’d heard me that they were too conservative for my message and canned the invitation.

Sometimes, it’s really not too bad getting the sack, you realize especially after the school run to drop the kids off, and you’re lingering with the paper over a cup of coffee. For a period; then you have to find something worthwhile to do.

Life is about seasons, a season to work a particular job and a season not to. It’s okay not to be a lifer. The fact that, on average, the people at your former workplace have spent between 10 and 20 years working there doesn’t mean you should have spent that amount of time behind bars too.

Principle matters, if only to you. But sometimes it won’t matter to anyone. That soapbox you stood on just before your boss decided to let you go, will be taken out with the next day’s office shredding.

Some people will avoid you, like the plague, fearing that the madness in your head that caused you to get the boot may just be contagious. Ex-colleagues especially will be wary of this affliction; the long nights you worked side-by-side preparing the next day’s board presentation will be long forgotten. And they’ll take collective preventative measures to avoid being contaminated. Standing together against a common enemy will be the new corporate mantra.

Of course, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because the biggest mistake you can make is trying to go back to your old job vicariously by calling ex-colleagues or hanging out with them over Friday lunch.

You’ll learn entrepreneurship, how to row your own boat and make your own luck. You’ll marvel at how you survived with so much mollycoddling in the corporate world and reliance on someone else. Your new middle name is Opportunist.

You and your cutesy idiosyncrasies will be erased. If you’ve managed to get your name or mug up on a wall somewhere – real or virtual - expect to have it taken down soon.

Seriously, forgetting is tough and forgiving is even tougher. But even as you allow yourself to feel the pain of being shafted, you learn that the gangrene that is unforgiving will eat away at your inside and make you utterly useless to yourself and your next boss.

Family matters. And real friends – even the ones who have your back on social networks and those you haven’t met yet.

Don’t be afraid to tell your next potential boss that you were fired – in fact, this level of honesty may stand you in good stead.

It really may not be your fault. You may have been axed because of some butterfly flitting around a corporate office on the other side of the world. Ask the 69 000 people in the Eastern Cape who lost their jobs before Christmas last year.

Ex-banker Sallie Krawcheck suggested after she was pushed out by Bank of America that if you don’t get fired at least once, you’re not trying hard enough. 

But I think the most important thing to remember is: Don’t call the boss anything that ends in h-o-l-e; even if he or she is a free speech proponent. And especially not in the weekly column you’ve just been given. - RAY HARTLE

Media's missed opportunity in Steenkamp-Pistorius case

“… the case against Pistorius seems to be changing from what it originally seemed to be”, wrote De Wet Potgieter and Sipho Hlongwane in the Daily Maverick on Friday.

But whose case exactly seemed to be changing?

Certainly there are many cases.

There is the official police case – that a woman had been killed in a shooting at the home of Oscar Pistorius and – it must go without saying despite our experience to the contrary in many other investigations – the police were busting their guts to determine what really happened and who is culpable for the death of Reeva Steenkamp.

At first brush, the police appear to be approaching this case by the book, even to the extent of communicating a couple of times with media covering the case hours after the shooting. The involvement of a high profile individual almost intuitively raises concerns about favouritism in how a case is investigated and prosecuted. There is nothing yet which suggests that Pistorius’s version was being favoured by the police. On the contrary, the police took the unusual step of refuting a suggestion that they were responsible for putting out the initial claim Ms Steenkamp was killed in a suspected burglary at Pistorius’s house.

There is the social media case – a rambling mix of fact, prejudice, speculation, black humour, reflections on domestic violence, gun laws, national icons, and the issue of “known and unknown” on a range of levels. Nothing that was tweeted or shared in other ways was a first-hand account by a citizen journalist. Instead the Twitterverse relied on traditional journalism sources both within South Africa and globally and simply retweeted what working journalists were posting.

If the notion of restorative justice is to have any value, we must acknowledge that there is also the case that the Steenkamp family faces as they are forced to come to terms with the devastating loss of a loved one in such tragic circumstances.

But it is the commercial media behaviour that is especially worrying and where, perhaps inadvertently, Potgieter and Hlongwane’s claim about a changing case has merit.

From the start the media case – or the case as the media reported it – was tentative, stymied, reflecting the lack of resources and training that have characterised the commercial media in our country.

Certainly, it was easier for the media to resort to what was known on the surface rather than digging into underlying issues by asking the difficult questions of police officials, associates of deceased or accused, potential witnesses, or even reviewing Pistorius’s history in terms of macho, violence-prone behaviour.

In the absence of anything known, the media do what they know best, resort to speculation – oh, and use the word allegedly as liberally and inappropriately as possible in an effort, seemingly, to cover their backsides.

That approach helps none of us, especially when they do it in a ham-handed manner and, crucially, get the basics wrong like stumbling over words like “murder” and “killing”

The commentariat on all sides of the domestic violence, violence against women and gun violence debates contribute little when they expect us to take a side. It might be possible to be stridently opposed to violence against women and yet be ambivalent about gun ownership or whether Pistorius murdered Steenkamp, or vice versa.

Especially in a context where we simply don’t know enough of Pistorius’s macho history because the media has preferred the “Paralympian as national icon” narrative to anything else. And where we know so little about the facts in this specific case.

What events like these show again is that social media can be unreliable in uncovering hard, trustworthy information. Here was an opportunity for professional journalists to show that good reporting requires more than just access to a smartphone.

It remains to be seen whether local media will recover from this lost opportunity. - RAY HARTLE

Time for England to follow Africa, says cleric

A leading Church of England cleric has called on Anglicans in that country to follow the example of the church in Africa by consecrating women bishops.
Canon John Ford was representing the Archbishop of York at the consecration and installation of the Right Reverend Margaret Vertue as bishop of the diocese of False Bay.

She is the second woman to be consecrated as bishop in the Anglican Church of Southern Africa, following Bishop Ellinah Wamukoya of Swaziland, who was consecrated last year.

Bishop Vertue was consecrated by the Archbishop of Cape Town and metropolitan of the Anglican Church of Southern Africa, the Most Reverend Thabo Makgoba, at a service at the University of Stellenbosch. 

The consecration of Bishop Wamukoya and now Bishop Vertue signals a progressive moment for the church in Africa, in the face of a decision by the Church of England last year not to approve the consecration of women bishops.

The difference in policy on women bishops was the subject of comments by speakers at Bishop Vertue's installation, with Methodist bishop Michel Hansrod saying the ordination of women was a privilege not shared by all.

In his comments, Canon Ford expressed the hope that the Church of England may shortly follow the example of Anglicans in Africa.

"Where Africa leads, England may follow," he told Bishop Vertue, asking her to "pray for us in England in our brokenness that we soon may celebrate this day".

Bishop Vertue, who succeeds retired Bishop Merwyn Castle, was one of the first two women ordained as priests at St George's Cathedral in Cape Town in September 1992, shortly after the Anglican Church of Southern Africa revoked its law banning women from being ordained.

In comments following the consecration of Bishop Vertue, Archbishop Makgoba said that there are 38 independent provinces within the Anglican communion worldwide.

“The debate in the Church of England was not lost because the majority of people don’t want to arrive there (but) it was about the numbers game. But we should look at our journey: We are at this stage in terms of our journey and witness in terms of the ordination of women bishops; they are at that stage.

“We just need to do what God has called us to do in a Godly manner and, hopefully, some will follow. There are areas where we follow and there are areas where we have to lead. That is the joy of the Anglican church.”

Asked if there is a space for Anglicans in Africa to be ministering to the church in the developed world, Makgoba said the Global Christian Forum presented an opportunity to ensure that Africa’s understanding of God was communicated in the development of theology globally. - Ray Hartle