Are soldiers the answer to the townships’ crime crisis?
And I use that word because the province is indeed in crisis.
They have been deployed at a time that we are engulfed by troubles. House robberies are a headache, drugs are everywhere, hijackings are sky-rocketing.
And as if that were not enough, the winter rains many prayed for to end the water shortage, are destroying shacks.
The soldiers have arrived as heaven turned its back on the province.
But let me welcome these soldiers to the province where politicians play games with our lives in pursuit of political points.
In my opinion, and due to my own experience, the use of the military to perform law and order functions raises several problems.
Their deployment takes me back to 1990 when Oupa Gqozo led the bloodless coup that toppled the then Ciskei’s leader Lennox Sebe. The coup brought jubilation to many but soon things changed.
Gqozo was happy to cling on power, and told the ANC where to get off. That did not go down well with masses, which resulted in the killing of his supporters.
There was toyi-toying and marches all over. Gqozo had to do something to protect not only himself but his followers too. A state of emergency and a curfew were introduced in the villages.
Soldiers and police were sent to quell the rioting and looting in the villages.
We were young activists then. Fighting the government of Gqozo was all we thought of. Soldiers were dispatched right in the middle of my village. They camped there for as long as I can remember. There was joy in those who believed that their leader was going nowhere.
As things were returning to normal, soldiers made the village their home away from home. They even fed many families with the food they got from the state.
They became the darling of some of the residents. They extended their stay and started to date our girls and sisters. Many parents were in support of the men who were there to protect them. Soldiers started to sleep in the houses, abandoning their tents – or leaving them for the soldiers who had not found girlfriends.
This resulted in many girls falling pregnant – and a number of children growing up without fathers.
Those soldiers left us not only with kids to feed but also with scars.
They assaulted people for no reason. There were nights when we had to sleep in the mountains. There were days when we could not go to school because we were wanted.
So, when it was announced that soldiers would be deployed to gang-infested communities, I was sceptical. It brought up a lot of doubts and hatred in me. But I was happy to read that the affected communities were happy. I was happy to read that people who sometimes could not go out into the streets now felt free to do so.
It brought a smile to my face to see children playing without any fear on the streets.
But I did not smile when I saw the Mambas and Casspirs. Those vehicles are ugly and scary. The sight of them brings back memories of the Gqozo time.
In a post on Facebook, a friend quoted a Manenberg woman as saying that she hadn’t seen children playing so freely in years, and that it looked like they were on holiday.
I felt a searing pain. I thought how those children were jailed in their own space. I felt that this country is not for children but bullies and criminals.
I accept that this deployment was not about me, but about people living under siege in their own communities.
It was for people who are held hostage by gang wars.It was for the high crime rates that we experience day and night. So I tried to be positive and believe that the gangs would run away. I tried to have faith that they will know who to tackle in this war and that the soldiers will remember why they are here.
Welcome to the Western Cape.