Dear Fellow South Africans
I strolled down one of our newly renamed streets. Waves of pride and a renewed sense of self-worth drowned out the rumbling of my stomach.
"Why aren't you guys focusing on jobs, housing, education and so on?" a friend asked recently.
"You don't understand how much it hurt to walk down West Street and be reminded of the indignities and humiliation associated with the word 'West'. We are restoring our pride and dignity", I replied.
"But don't those things come from having work, opportunity, hope etc?"
I glared at him as scornfully as they do in the classics.
"You," I retorted, "Really need to get your priorities right".
I have often felt like dancing for joy at the sight of new street and city names. Indeed, were it not for fear of people seeing the hole in my left shoe, I'd show my Step Aside dance moves.
My dumb friend continued:
"The house is burning down. You guys are more concerned with hanging out a new name sign instead of putting out the fire."
Then, with a sarcastic grin:
"At leat the ashes will have a revolutionary, new name."
Bloody foreigners with their white tendencies and neo-colonialist attitudes. They really don't understand our unique struggle here on the southern tip of this great continent.
I had had enough. Drawing myself up to my full five feet and seven inches, I solemnly intoned the inspirational words of one of our great leaders:
"Go out, bastard. Bloody agent".
He went out.
Yours in the struggle to rename the rose.
Richard
Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted
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