THE stench arising from the administration of rugby in South Africa is over-powering. If the coaching career of the Springbok coach, Andr Markgraaff, is the immediate casualty of this week’s rugby race row, the putrefaction which gives rise to the stink lies with the South African Rugby Football Union (Sarfu).
It has been obvious for years that something has been seriously amiss with the sport. But Louis Luyt’s control of the game at a national level – which might well be described as tyrannical – has kept the lid on it. The Markgraaff affair has given a glimpse of the shenanigans which seemingly go on behind the scenes.
The full facts of the scandal are still emerging, but if the central allegations stand – blackmail, rampant racism and a toleration of both by Sarfu – it is hardly necessary to call for a clean-out at Sarfu headquarters, the demand being so obvious. Even if the allegations do not stand, Luyt must go: his ranting at Minister Steve Tshwete – “no one is my boss in this country and I’ll remind him of this in court” – shows a disregard for the national interest in the game which is alone sufficient to disqualify him from its administration.
But the most damaging aspect of the Markgraaff affair lies with one word. The use of the word “kaffir” by Markgraaff is like a slap in the face of Nelson Mandela – the man who, more than any of the 15 players, set the seal on our World Cup triumph; the man who bucked the weight of popular opinion to reward rugby with the Springbok emblem. It is with a sense of shared hurt that we contemplate the K-word.
It is a curiosity about human behaviour that we choose to characterise as obscenities words that are deserving of celebration. The F-word is the most obvious example, as the euphemism for the “obscenity” which describes the font of our humanity – the action which gives rise to our existence and hope of immortality.
In a similar way the K-word is one which has been artificially clothed in obscenity. Now is a good time to remember that the word “kaffir” stems from the Arabic kafir, which meant an infidel, or un-believer. One of the glories of our Constitution is that we have thrown off the shackles of sectarianism. Whatever our individual beliefs – which are sacrosanct – we are an infidel state. A nation of kaffirs, Mr President … and very proud of it.