Let’s face facts, as a nation we expected fallout from the incarceration of former president Jacob Zuma and at the same time we cheered the constitutional court for this long overdue course of justice. Yet none of us, myself as a political analyst included, were prepared for the incendiary violence that began the night of July 11.
I arrived at the epicentre of the chaos on Monday morning, 12 July. King Shaka airport was eerily quiet. All the shops were closed and there were hardly any taxis. The friend who was to fetch me had to turn around because so many roads were closed. I was stymied. What to do next?
Finally, a Bolt ride arrived for a man going to Ballito and I hitched a lift, unsure of where I was going. My driver, Ntuthuko Vincent Malamba from Amanzimtoti, who remains my personal hero of the day, promised me that he could get me to the Bluff. Are you sure? I asked over and over again. I had heard the central business district was a war zone and we had to drive through it because the other roads were still blocked.
“Don’t worry”, said Ntuthuko, “It has turned to looting in the CBD now. They aren’t interested in anything else, we will be fine.” He was right. We drove straight through the centre of Durban, where groups were congregated wearing designer clothing and deciding where to go next for some free shopping. Nobody was carrying food. Nobody cared about us. Ntuthuko constantly reassured me of this. My fear was clearly radiating as brightly as the red traffic light that halted us for what seemed like an eternity.
I arrived safely on the Bluff to see groups of civilians of mixed ethnicity standing in front of shops and restaurants. For the rest of the day, I binge-watched the horror of the looting and arson that was ripping through eThekwini. What stood out was the bravery of the reporters and their sheer incomprehension as to the scale of the chaos. We saw women with groceries, but we also saw shops stripped of everything from TVs to tyres. It was a free-for-all.
We watched reporters show us the police standing by, helpless, outnumbered. We saw President Cyril Ramaphosa on Monday night, calmly (too calmly?) calling for the chaos to stop and reassuring the nation that the South African National Defence Force would be deployed en masse. Three days later there were still only 2 500 troops deployed. We binge-watched more — and more.
As a nation we are still traumatised and scrambling for answers.
