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26 April 2023 | Story Kelebogile Boleu and Jean-Paul Pophaim | Photo Supplied
Jean-Paul Pophiam and Kelebogile Oliver
Kelebogile Boleu and Jean-Paul Pophaim, lecturers at the Department of Criminology, University of the Free State and Governing board members at Kidz Care Trust

Opinion article by Kelebogile Boleu and Jean-Paul Pophaim, Lecturers at the Department of Criminology, University of the Free State and Governing board members at Kidz Care Trust.
Freedom Day commemorates the first democratic elections held in post-apartheid South Africa on 27 April 1994. This day reminds us of the immeasurable sacrifices made by individuals and groups to help break the chains of unjust segregation and bring about the promotion of equality, fairness and basic human rights for all South Africans. This day not only marks our emancipation as South Africans, but reminds us of the constitutional promise of peace, hope and a brighter tomorrow for everyone. Over the past few years, many South Africans have begun to question this monumental rise to freedom, with all of the challenges we have been facing as a country – having one of the highest youth unemployment rates globally, social challenges associated with housing, education and the lack of access to basic needs such as food, electricity and water. We are 28 years into democracy and some individuals have yet to experience freedom and enjoy their basic human rights to the fullest. A prime example of this would be our country’s homeless population. Forced to exist in the most marginal and rundown conditions, the homeless are often treated as second-class citizens, criminalised, ostracised and deprived of their most basic human rights on a daily basis.  

The fallacy of freedom for the homeless 

At the dawn of democracy, it was assumed that freedom and human rights for all would be an automatic process. However, this remains untrue in the lives of the marginalised and destitute. The homeless face many barriers in society regarding access to their basic human rights and services to acknowledge and support a life of dignity, equality and respect. Based on a devalued social status and the stigma attached to life on the street, many homeless people are forced to exist in spaces devoid of their innate right to freedom as alluded to in a previous publication . The homeless face immense challenges when seeking assistance from SA Police Service officials when they attempt to make use of healthcare services and other social service sectors. The discomfort they create for other members of society is inhumanely vocalised and enforced in various ‘public spaces’ – where their unwelcome presence is solidified by the treatment they are subjected to. Street-living youth are deprived of their childhoods, bearing the challenges of a broken society – unable to enjoy their youth, attend school, play with friends and realise their potential to be the leaders of tomorrow. 

When we see children begging on the street, we often ask ourselves – where are their parents and why are they not in school? Or we simply assume they are naughty or deviant and probably do not know the value and importance of education. The majority of the broader society are quick to judge and hardly ever go a step further to consider the ‘bigger picture’. The reality is that most of these children have no adult figure or support system in place and as a result often turn to unconventional survival strategies which include various petty crimes and sex work just to secure a meal. The last thing on their minds is going to school and even if they find a school that is willing to accept them, many do not have the necessary documentation required at admission (birth certificates amongst others). Although we do have a few good policies in place for children, the situation for street-living youth remains bleak – as many of them do not fit the narrative of a school-going child and as a result face severe cases of marginalisation, discrimination, bullying and unfair treatment by peers and educators alike. Despite these challenges, organisations such as Kidz Care Trust (KCT) remain committed to continue advocating for the rights of the child.

Efforts by Civil Organisations

Civil organisations in South Africa have always played an instrumental role in righting the wrongs of our unequal society. Many organisations continue to pick up the slack and assist in creating a more dignified life, one that is aligned with the premise of our democratic Constitution. To draw focus to our involvement and affiliation with KCT, since its establishment, the trust has been responsible for rendering life-changing services to children living and working on the street with the purpose of reuniting them with their families and communities. Due to the ongoing violation of children’s rights and freedom, KCT focuses on restoring hope where there is hopelessness, distrust and disrespect by a sometimes, unforgiving society confronted with children living and surviving on the street. 

To raise awareness and promote the fight for equal rights and absolute freedom for all street-living youth and adults, we thought it would be fitting to share some of the most heart-warming success stories achieved by the trust to date. Currently one of the boys at KCT is completing his matric, another has been placed in a high school and several others are enrolled at a nearby primary school – with one grade 7 pupil achieving perfect and high scores for his assessments – proving once again that anything is possible with a bit of support. For the purposes of the next story, an alias has been used to protect the identity of the individual involved: 

A young man fighting for his right to be a responsible and contributing citizen

Tristan’s story is one filled with hardships and challenges that stretch far beyond the imagination of the average South African citizen. Through hard work, sheer willpower and the determination to succeed – Tristan managed to overcome the adversity that started at the age of just three, when he was abandoned by his family. 

Tristan was placed into foster care, only for his foster parent to pass away and he ended up in the tentative care of an elderly neighbour. Tristan knew that he did not have much time to live with the neighbour and decided to move to the street at the age of 10. This is where he crossed paths with KCT. Tristan was part of a group of street children who begged at the traffic lights near Mimosa Mall in Bloemfontein during peak times. While he found refuge with this group of children, he started sniffing glue and smoking cannabis (dagga). He battled the cold, faced starvation and violent attacks while on the street. Tristan moved into the KCT Child and Youth Care Centre when he was 12 years old, initially struggling to adapt to the rules and routines of the centre. As a result, he got into a lot of altercations with other boys at the centre. His issues with substances (glue and cannabis) and claiming that he felt like a failure due to his challenges at school, led to him running away from the centre a number of times. The children’s court then ordered Tristan to attend Jimmie Roos School. As things started to improve, he turned 18 and the system no longer had room for him. He couldn’t find employment and decided to move in with a friend in a township which was when he was revisited by his previous challenges with substance abuse. Eventually, unable to cope, he contacted KCT and they decided to include him in their youth programme – where he was taught cooking, gardening, cleaning and work etiquette skills. After acquiring his identity document, Tristan was enrolled for an in-service training programme at Kopano Nokeng Conference Centre. The person who assisted him was so impressed by his performance and ambition to succeed that Tristan was later offered part-time employment as a waiter and to assist with organising events. Today, Tristan has full-time employment as a caretaker and also takes care of his 93-year-old grandfather.

This is one of many stories KCT can share with pride – showing that a rough start does not always mean a rough ending. On days such as this it is important to reflect on the struggles that led to the celebration of Freedom Day and to remember what freedom truly means and that it should be a reality for all. 

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about” ~ Wendy Mass. 

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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