I have not written anything in a while mainly because of Easter but partly because I am not really sure what can be written. The Constitutional Court found against Zuma only to be followed by the absolutely humiliating and depressing failure to impeach him in the National Assembly. As much as I would like to say something about all of this, each time I open my mouth I feel a hollowness within it. Not as if my tongue had been removed but as if my vocal cords are too tired and the breath that would pass over them insufficient. As white, there is nothing that I can say or do. It is a feeling of absolute emptiness that cannot be described – a feeling that I can only speak the wrong language. Each time I see a white person get up to speak, I can’t bear it. I want to scream them down. There is nothing we can add to this debate nor can any protest we muster make any difference. It is a strange feeling to contain such urges of belonging and such an emptiness of language and expression – it is partly the legacy of apartheid and colonialism, partly 22 years of the failure to wash the blood from our hands and party a failure to integrate.
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;