A Tale of Two South Africas

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While in the Bahamas last week, I met several white South Africans, with radically different versions of what’s going on in their nation.

After a week in the Bahamas, I’m baaack, and I’ve got quite a few things to write on, but I’ll start with this one: I had the pleasure of meeting several white South African citizens while there, but interestingly enough, they had radically different versions of what’s going on in their nation.

We flew into Nassau, but then spent a majority of the trip in the Exumas, which is a long island chain to the east, and it was there in a small grocer that we met a wonderful South African man named Dewet, who’d been in the area for the past two years, working on a number of construction projects. Naturally because of his accent, where he was from was obvious, and considering my interests, the topic immediately went to the political situation in South Africa. According to Dewet, every single person he knows back home has either been the victim of anti-white violence, or, knows of someone who’d been hurt or murdered. In fact, Dewet’s own father had been shot (not killed) during a robbery, over a very small sum of money.

Dewet got a little giddy when we talked about President Trump’s confrontation with South African president Cyril Ramaphosa—I proudly revealed to him that Trump used articles published by the very outlet I work for—and was thankful that the terrorizing and slaughter of white farmers was being made global news. He also said his ex-wife and twin daughters were in the process of coming to the states, under Trump’s refugee priorities, because South Africa is not safe for them at all.

Of course, Dewet’s perspective and experiences were exactly what I’d expect from a white South African, as they matched what I see in the news on a consistent basis.

But then…after our time in Exuma, we flew back to Nassau for our last night, before we were to head back to the states the following day. Unfortunately, the driver we’d arranged completely ditched us, so we were stuck at some little puddle-jumper air hangar trying to work new transportation. At this point, we got to talking to a wonderfully friendly couple, who offered us a ride in their taxi which had shown up—God bless them!— since we were all going to Paradise Island (they were staying at a hotel just a few blocks away from our rental). Like Dewet, they were white South Africans, and like it did with Dewet, the conversation quickly turned political. In the husband’s words though, “things aren’t as bad as the news makes them out to be.”

And right then, I knew these people, though incredibly sweet and well-meaning, were very out of touch liberals.

The man then proceeded to show us live camera footage from his phone of his house…which was a verifiable compound, complete with a massive brick wall all around the property, topped with razor wire, and had legitimate guards patrolling outside the boundary. He said he had an alarm, and showed us video feed from inside the home, which revealed everything was as it should be. The wife then chimed in, saying, “a lot of people get the impression it’s a ‘warzone,’ but it’s not.”

Lady, if that’s not a warzone, then what is it? Because it sure looks exactly like a warzone. If I didn’t know what I was looking at was in South Africa, I easily could have guessed it was the home of some Mogadishu warlord, or perhaps a government compound in Nairobi. The husband then said, “It’s just like in the U.S., there are good areas and bad areas.”

Well, not really. First of all, our right to self-defense and personal arms are thoroughly established (a right the South Africans have been robbed of), and secondly, this man lived in a “good area” of Johannesburg. I’d hate to see a “bad” area!

It was at this moment I was reminded of the chasm between the rich liberals and the Everyday Joes—or Everyday Dewets. You see, Dewet was a blue collar working man, taking any job he could find, even if that meant being away from his children and family. The couple from the cab? They were in town checking out a yacht—the artist wife was retired, while the husband was making a killing in government contracts, serving as some sort of middle man collecting utility monies, a task the incompetent and corrupt government couldn’t figure out how to do. (According to this couple, the government hasn’t updated any of the grid since they took over, more than 20 years ago). He was so successful, both of his children and his daughter’s boyfriend were on his payroll.

While Dewet was in the Bahamas finding work as a manual laborer, the Johannesburg couple was there yacht shopping—they planned to sail around the Mediterranean for a majority of the year. (After the Bahamas, they’d be off to San Francisco to consider another boat option.) Yacht-shopping and a life hopping between Mediterranean islands isn’t what the average person gets to experience, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is to deny reality for your political ideology and because of your cognitive dissonance, especially when the cost is other people’s blood.

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