Jane Badham
THE travel brochures show you pictures of the big five, stretches of pristine beaches, luxury hotels and smiling faces. The picture of peace and harmony, but allow me to paint the real picture …
We have long known that we are living in the most violent country (with the exception of Bosnia) in the world and have adapted accordingly — we spend a great deal on security systems for our cars, homes and even our suburbs.
Take me as an example. I am driving to the airport to collect you as you start your wonderful holiday in the Rainbow Nation. My car has an immobiliser and a radar-tracking device that works off my front door. If it is opened when the key is in the ignition, a helicopter and squad cars are sent to my rescue. Just in case, I also have a “gorilla” lock that I fit to the steering wheel before getting out. I don’t and wouldn’t drive a fancy car (BMW, Merc, Microbus or four-wheel drive).
As I drive along, constantly on the look-out for anything suspicious, I listen to a programme on the radio — which has a removable face — about self-protection. After this, it is time for the news headlines: “Well-known South African soccer player’s father shot and killed in car hijacking;” “Armed robbers and innocent bystander shot in armed hold-up at shopping centre;” “Policemen killed by drug dealer.” Now the adverts: the sound of a distraught woman saying “No, please no,” while a baby sobs in the background. A gunshot; the baby screams. A voice says: “Next time you are tempted to buy stolen goods, consider the price the previous owner paid. Support Business Against Crime.” I collect you from the airport with a welcome smile.
We are now safely back in the suburb where I live. I say a prayer of thanks when I see the board with an eye on it that tells me that we are now in an area patrolled day and night by the block-watch system.
In this area the residents have even built a police station and provided cars for the poor, overworked cops. Restaurants in the area give them free meals to keep their morale up.
Then, welcome to my home. First you have to fill in a form to get past the armed guard at the gate to a property surrounded by an electrified 1,8m wall. Shortly the guard will not allow anyone in until he has contacted the person they say they are visiting through a sophisticated speaker system complete with camera. You get to my front door. Sorry, but I first have to open a security gate before going in (and you will have to follow the same procedure if you want to go out any other doors).
You are now welcome to enjoy your time with me, assured of your safety because I have a security system that is linked to an armed-response company. There are panic buttons positioned around the house that will get an “army” around if you push them. There are “beady eyes” to detect unwanted movement. All my details are on the Sandton Crisis Control Centre computer and the telephone is speed-dial programmed to alert the paramedics, flying squad, ambulance, police helicopter … There is also a list of emergency numbers by the phone. The cellphone is never far away, also programmed to dial the network’s emergency system.
All this and then … the phone rings and I get the voice of my distraught friend: “Jane, can you get hold of Father McConnell [the priest]. We need him.”
The story unfolds. My friends, John and Debbie, and their two daughters aged 6 and 10, arrive back from a holiday and go to visit their father and grandfather. As they pull into his driveway, they are pounced on. Guns are put to their heads. Debbie’s jewellery is pulled off and the car is demanded. The grandfather hears a commotion and comes out. A gunshot. All the “help” systems are activated and respond with speed — ambulances, helicopter, police. It is too late. Helpless, the family witness their beloved father and grandfather bleed to death.
In the words of one newspaper headline “Two more die in new wave of hijackings”, in another: “The barbarians are in our midst”.
“Welcome to the new South Africa. You can be sure of a great holiday,” I say to you, dear overseas visitor.
— Jane Badham is a Johannesburg dietician who wrote this piece for her foreign visitor friends
ENDS