“Oh, get over it — they’re just naughty boys!” a friend yelled at the television, spilling a bit of her vodka concoction as she waved her hand dismissively.
I reeled.
On the screen flashed visuals of the Reitz Four in the Bloemfontein Magistrate’s Court, which found the former Free State University (UFS) students guilty of crimen injuria.
Naughty, I thought, was me putting bus grease in a boy’s satchel after he had drenched me with the school fire hydrant the day before. I know it was naughty because we both got told as much at detention by a scowling teacher, who added for good measure that I would grow up to be a bank robber.
Justice was swift at Dannhauser Secondary School that day: the punishment fitted the crime, the aggrieved parties felt satisfied that the other got what was coming to them and I learned my lesson.
I wonder whether the protracted legal procedures, the media attention and the R20 000 fine have had the same effect on the Reitz Four. They have not yet felt compelled to make a direct apology to the victims of their debased conduct. And, for some reason, the humiliation they visited on five cleaners at UFS, subjecting them to demeaning acts in a video designed to pour scorn on racial-integration efforts on the campus, is still open to interpretation in South African society.
Their advocate, Kemp J Kemp, argued in mitigation of sentence that his clients’ behaviour was nothing more than a prank because, well, that’s what he is paid to do — make the crime look less offensive. But it is frightening that after all the controversy and the repeated broadcast of those shocking images of the workers kneeling on the floor, eating food that appeared to have been urinated on, people still take the time to call in to radio stations to explain that this was just a “joke”. Countless others, such as my friend, say so in their workplaces and homes, sometimes within earshot of their children.
Surely it cannot be that, after all we have been through as a nation, only some of us take offence and feel hurt that elderly workers are made to perform degrading acts and are called difebe (whores) by young white boys as part of what Kemp calls “a very good relationship”.
Others who have become accustomed to thinking of Africans as people who do menial jobs and live in subhuman conditions are not outraged. They rationalise that, because the workers were smiling in the video and appeared to be enjoying themselves, it was not abusive. Sadly, all the debate and anger over this matter since it came to light still fails to open some people’s minds to the fact that the students’ behaviour was depraved and that, if it had been them or their loved ones at the receiving end of the “prank”, their perspective would have been markedly different.
The emergence of a second video at UFS this week showing four white students voluntarily participating in an initiation ritual is also being used to mitigate the abhorrent behaviour of the Reitz Four, despite the fact that they deliberately set out to mock racial integration and demean black people.
If anything, the diverse reaction to the conviction and sentence of the Reitz Four displays the complexity of the process of national reconciliation and nation-building 16 years after the dismantling of apartheid began. Legislation, Madiba and World Cups can only do so much to shape the rainbow nation we put on display during June and July.
Personal attitudes, our conduct and the respect we show others can come from only within when race and class are not the measure of a person’s worth.
We should now be able to leave the Reitz incident behind, thanks to magistrate Mziwonke Hinxa, who — with the benefit of the evidence before him — was able to pronounce conclusively that the students’ behaviour was, indeed, racist and a “disgusting and detestable evil”. So we can now move beyond the realm of debating the merits of the case and accept the judgment in its totality.
But should the matter now be left alone? The university management sought to initiate a process of reconciliation last year that caused much controversy because it appeared to be superficial and disregarded the views and interests of the victims. Now that the criminal proceedings are complete (the matter is still before the Equality Court in a civil case), surely the space is open for reconciliation and healing. It is tragic that the young men have opted to make apologies through the vice-rector and their lawyers rather than to come face to face with the people and families they hurt.
Although the judgment provides some justice for the victims, the R20 000 fine to be paid to the state does not. It would be difficult to quantify in financial terms the cost of the victims’ suffering and the impairment to their dignity, not only with the production of the video but also through its recurring broadcasts on television and having to continue working in the same place where they suffered abuse.
Whatever process of reconciliation and healing may ensue must therefore be done in proper consultation with the victims.
As a society we have a lot to learn from this messy saga. Racism and other forms of discrimination are everywhere, no matter how much we want to deny it. The 1994 democratic election was an event; racial reconciliation is not. Yes, we should stop blaming apartheid for all our social ills, but we should also recognise that its legacy remains everywhere, even in the mirror.
Flying our flag and being patriotic does not provide immunity from being racist. Just because a school, a university, a workplace or even a home has people of different races in it, it does not mean racial harmony is automatic or that prejudice is absent.
Confronting racism is very difficult and takes courage — something I found I lacked when I opted to remain silent the night my friend made her appalling comment.
Ranjeni Munusamy is head of communications in the ministry of higher education and training