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RaDical MiDDle - ColdType

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Radical Middle | 135<br />

protect the whites from the suffering which was their due.<br />

Blood had flowed in the townships; now it must flow in the<br />

suburbs to even things out. I mustn’t come with white man’s<br />

talk about systems and structures and boring technicalities;<br />

liberation must come and oppression must stop and I must just<br />

“take my government and go, go”.<br />

I grasped a lull to sneak a word in and said: “You know who<br />

you guys should blame for your oppression?” The predictable<br />

roar went out: “The whites!” I said “No, yourselves, and<br />

if this is the best you can offer you’ll be oppressed forever”.<br />

Pandemonium. Blood vessels popping like firecrackers at Guy<br />

fawkes.<br />

Twenty minutes later, proceedings over, there’s tea and<br />

biscuits and everybody’s moved out of political mode and back<br />

into normality. They’re swopping sorrowful tales about how<br />

so-and-so’s niece was raped and somebody else’s neighbour’s<br />

son was press-ganged and how badly the restoration of order<br />

is needed.<br />

There you have it, I tell Madikolo. That’s why people need<br />

power over their lives. Her, too – give her effective citizenship<br />

and she’ll be a force for stability like all those other mothers<br />

and aunts and fathers. Madikolo laughs. She wants change, she<br />

says, change, to the blazes with stability.<br />

That’s what she says but she’s fooling herself. When she<br />

can cast a ballot that matters she’ll cast a ballot for calm. She<br />

might rant over dinner tables but at the voting booth she’ll be<br />

thinking of peace. Or if she wants to play Warrior Queen, that’s<br />

fine. Just let her get Warrior Queendom past voters, that’s all.<br />

“Hey, remember chaos? The whites never had their time of<br />

chaos. Vote for me so we can put the suburbs in chaos.”<br />

I addressed Manas Buthelezi’s diocese, gentle men in dark<br />

suits, full to the brim with politeness and the Good Book. Half<br />

of them nodded off, wondering what my theorising had to do<br />

with the Word of the Lord, but they all woke up and clapped<br />

fit to burst at the end. That must be the ultimate black custom;<br />

make the guest feel good no matter what. Whereas among the

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