Rush to pin the blame: Foreign-owned spaza shops have been closed in Naledi. (Delwyn Verasamy/M&G)
Another month brings another grim tally of young lives lost to tainted food.
In October, six children died in Naledi, Soweto, after apparently consuming organophosphate — a pesticide that Health Minister Aaron Motsoaledi has theorised is being used to kill rodents.
Arrests have been made, and officials have stepped in to investigate. But no legal consequence will bring back the children.
This won’t be the last time such a tragedy unfolds. And, as with similar episodes, the public response seems poised to follow a predictable script.
Blame will be assigned — often indiscriminately — while certain politicians, sensing an opportunity, will leap to exploit public outrage.
But in the rush to cast blame, particularly on foreign-owned spaza shops, we overlook a crucial point: this tragedy is not unique to any one kind of store.
Across social media, we hear cries of “they are killing our children,” echoing through hashtags and tweets that rally social blame. This fuels existing sentiments of xenophobia. And it can be dangerous when members of the public take the matter into their own hands, destroying spaza shops. In one instance, an owner died.
The media too reports on cases where children fall ill, or die, without interrogating the facts and merely accept at face value the words of government officials.
Self-righteous indignation flares, fingers point, and then the outrage fades until the next crisis, with little attention to the pervasive issues that could prevent these tragedies.
Let us not forget that informal traders such as street vendors and spaza shops are in a sense kitchens and fridges for people in townships and can’t afford to travel to formal retailers or the prices they charge.
South Africa has developed a dangerous rhythm — a march from one crisis to the next, one headline to the next, without taking the necessary pause to address root causes.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
The cycle of tainted food, illness and in some instances death can be interrupted. It doesn’t require monumental resources. What it does demand is a commitment to enforcing the regulations already in place. Food safety standards, building codes and transport regulations exist to protect the public.
Officials have allowed neglect to fester, with tragic results. Safety becomes a function of influence, and citizens are left to bear the cost.
We have seen the consequences all too often: children killed in crashes involving overloaded, poorly maintained taxis. Leaders offer funeral funds instead of meaningful change.
We owe it to every child, to every family, to do what we can to uphold the laws that protect them. Until we begin to value this collective responsibility and educate each other on its importance, we can only expect more of the same — preventable tragedies.