The clocks in the corridors of the Johannesburg Magistrate’s Court, where Benedict “Tso” Vilakazi is appearing on a rape charge, were not working this week. They have not for many years now. And it seems, as with the timepieces, time itself has stood still for Vilakazi.
For the first time since he appeared on the soccer scene almost five years ago, Vilakazi finds himself a truly marked man. If convicted of rape, he faces the minimum life sentence prescribed by mandatory sentencing laws. These prescribe that anyone found guilty of raping a girl under 16 years of age should go to jail for life, unless there are “substantial and compelling” reasons for a lesser sentence.
This week, the court heard that he had told his friend — the uncle of the 15-year-old girl he allegedly raped — that he was “sorry” to have done the deed. The deed, he says, in his not guilty-plea, is that he and the girl agreed to have sex. He says he had no idea she was only 15. He thought she was 17.
Ironically, “Tso” is no stranger to debates about age. He has often had to defend himself against allegations that he was born before September 8 1992, the date on his birth certificate.
A media frenzy around claims that he was an “age cheat” who should not have been allowed to play for South Africa’s under-20 side, which he captained at the youth championship in Ethiopia in 2001, eventually led his club, Orlando Pirates, to institute its own inquiry. It went as far as asking the Department of Home Affairs to confirm his birth details.
But the debate about the ages of the complainant and Vilakazi are not the only things they have in common. Neither have their mothers by their side as they traverse potentially the most difficult paths of their young lives.
Vilakazi’s mother died when he was in his early teens. He has often been quoted as saying that his only regret is that his mother is not around to see the strides he has made in life. Those strides include being the current Pirates player of the year, and being one of a handful of locally-based players in whom national coach Stuart Baxter has shown faith to mix with the foreign contingent which makes the bulk of the team.
The complainant’s mother is in prison on a fraud charge and the young girl lives with her uncle — Vilakazi’s friend — at whose house the alleged rape took place.
In a telephone conversation from the Johannesburg prison, the girl’s mother told the Mail & Guardian of her pain at not being with her daughter. Yet, she was somewhat relieved that she was not free. “If I saw him [Vilakazi], I would strangle him with my hands, which is not a nice thing because I would end up in jail again,” she said.
Vilakazi, 1,5m tall and weighing less than 60kg, has been praised for his ability to take on men much bigger than him. For the duration of the trial, his toughest opponents are two women, specialist sexual offences prosecutor Karina Coetzee and Magistrate Naomi Manaka.
As a footballer, Vilakazi’s strength has always been his timing. He has the instinct of being at the right place at the right time, but for now all is frozen, just like the clocks in the Johannesburg court. Elsewhere, where they are in proper working order, Vilakazi and the rest of society can only wait to learn for whom the hours tick.