Soulparking

Saturday, 2 September 2006

Sounds like an economic lesson and maybe it is.  But actually reading an article in the Nationwide Airlines Altitude Magazine opened my eyes to the dangers of a Free Market economy and where South Africa is headed.  Soulless.

I boast about South Africa continuously – the hope, the opportunity both personal and financial, and its potential to change the world.  But recently, in the same vein, this same opportunity might become its undoing.

I flew up to JoBurg for my work and I went out for drinks with a friend Thursday night at one of my favorite places FashionTV .  I didn’t stay long but I didn’t need to.  The article that opened my eyes became a living and breathing soapie (soap opera) in front of me.

As I hung out talking and people watching with the top South African supermodels, I came in contact with several businessmen.  All these businessmen were of differing ages and backgrounds.  And almost always, when they heard my American accent, they wanted to linger and talk to me.  They wanted to tell me why they were there and how successful they were.

I met a 22 year old, white South African guy who went to college in the States via a baseball scholarship and was offered a contract with the Kansas City Royals.  Which is amazing because my favorite all time Auburn football star played for them – Bo Jackson – the same name as my father.   Not only did he know the name Bo Jackson, he had met him and had Bo Jackson’s baseball card – which is something rare to hear in South Africa where cricket and rugby are the supreme sports.    But the conversation was good, and we connected.  But I could tell by his Armani suit he was doing very well for himself.  And he told me upon university graduation, he retuned to South Africa to become Vice President of his father’s company.  Now at 22 years old, he was one of the richest Italian suit clothing store entrepreneurs in South Africa.  Soon afterwards, he bought my friend, me, and him a double Southern Comfort and Lime and left a R100 tip.  And although I should have pursued it because I am looking for venture capital for my future SoulParking idea – I was immediately repulsed. 

The amount of money he started talking about that he was making – and saying loudly for my friend (who was a girl) to overhear.  But she had already told me – she liked him and wanted my opinion of him.  I told her, “I like him.  Very good guy.”  And I meant it for her.  Because she was of the same fabric.  She was 22 years old, manager of her own business, and her father was the entrepreneur of one of the most successful retail electronic companies in South Africa.  She was born into money.  And it was only natural that she would marry money.

Soon after the former baseball player left, another guy arrived, freshly shaven bald and wearing another expensive Italian suit.  He was watching both of us trying to figure out if me and my friend were together.  He noticed quickly that we were not.  I was missing Jasmin badly.  So he proceeded to charm my friend and talk about his exploits.  He worked as a global importer / exporter.  He talked about what kind of car he drove and how much money he made.  He was a year younger – 21 years old.

Just as he was expressing himself and his spoils, another guy overhead me speak and noticed my accent – and he volunteered the information that he originally was from Memphis, Tennessee.  I was surprised because he didn’t look the part.  Then he confided in me that he had won the Green Card lottery and he moved to Memphis.  Now he traveled the world – also an importer / exporter.  And then he went into a long, rambling discussion that the greatest money to be made was in Zimbabwe.  He had made a million USD dollars in the last year alone by importing and exporting oil and petroleum to private people living within Zimbabwe.  But he was quick to say, that he imported and exported everything.  I told him that I was in the process of moving to Hong Kong and he rattled off a rural Chinese city and told me to contact a friend of his.  This friend had started a sweatshop for making clothing and electronics and he was making millions in the last year.  The former citizen of Memphis handed me his business card and told me to contact him.  And again, I was tempted to ask about venture capital but I did not.  I nodded and was nice.  And then he went to find a woman he could “fuck” as he said. We said our goodbyes.

I was completely disgusted.  I turned to see the bald guy chatting up my friend.  When she went to ladies, he leaned over and whispered into my ear, I am a misogynist.  He didn’t love or even like women but he simply “fucked” them.  He went on to say that 007 James Bond was the same.  And he was quick to add that my friend was next on his list. 

“Good luck,” I told him.

She returned and she seemed enthralled by his exploits of money and power.  To show he was rich, he bought her, me, and him drinks – and like the last guy – left a R100 tip.

I was tired of this.   So I told them that I wanted to go.  My friend said she wanted to go to and quickly the bald guy wanted to walk us out.  So we left Fashion TV Cafe.  While outside, a beggar – a black guy – mid-twenties – without shoes – came up and asked us for money.  The bald guy balked as did my woman friend.  I reached into my change pocket and pulled out all the R1 and R5 pieces I had.  The black man was very appreciative.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that.” The bald guy said.

“Yeah, I know.”  And we walked on.

The misogynist and my lady friend were very wrapped up into each other. I had no idea why they were walking out with me.  They had their own purposes.  I traveled to my car first.  I said my goodbyes and my lady friend asked me if I wanted to move on with her to the next bar which the bald guy quickly said he would go.

“Nope, I am pretty tired.”

I shook hands with the bald guy and hugged her.  He offered to show me his new Audi if I walked with them – I politely refused. 

I drove out of Sandton City and Mandela Square parking deck – completely disgusted.  And two robots (traffic lights) from my hotel in Morningside, I saw a black man without crutches but needing them badly – walking impaired with handicapped legs that.  I had my window lowered a little.  He spoke into the window.

“Is there anything you can spare?  I cannot get a job in my condition.”

I looked at him sadly.  “No man, I am sorry.” Which was not true.  The news was rife with reports of beggars with disabilities getting sympathy and you roll down your window only to be hijacked (carjacked) at the robot and your car stolen – either with you hanging out of it with your seatbelt dragging you or you shot in the head because they want your Avis Car Hire of a Toyota Corolla. 

The South African Free Market Economy article came back to me.  And I also remembered the SABC2 documentary on “Freedom Day” which tried to prove the point that Mandela was “tricked”.  Mandela before his release met with top economic advisors from Europe and South Africa that tried to convince him that nationalizing South Africa and persecuting the former businesses that flourished during Apartheid would eventually backfire and leave South Africa a desolate and economic disaster.  So it was this “advice” that allowed South Africa to be completely embraced by the global economy.  And the rich became even richer and the poorer became poorer – except for a select few that were deemed part of the “struggle” and they became the new Black middle class.  And Soweto and townships around South Africa continued to starve.

This is what I consider a rampant Free Market.  Allowing the capitalist market flourish without regard to the social repercussions or not giving citizens re-investment vehicles or incentives to help the country or the lower classes rise up.  And the divide continues to grow between rich and poor. 

I am not saying I am against success or making money.  I definitely believe that any business should target becoming rich.  But there should be a threshold when just making money to be making money when your surroundings are so obvious that others are need – is soulless. 

And yet, sprinkled throughout, there are success stories of those who lived with nothing or had nothing – or hell people who lived in squalor made it out and became successes.  Jasmin is one of those. 

But more often than not, there are too many stories of “bunnies” – which is the term used for street kids who are paid and pimped by rich European white men who sodomize and molest boys from 4 to 16 years old.  And then when these European white men are caught like the recent financial lawyer from Switzerland they are slapped with a R10000 thousand fine (USD $1500) and let go.  And people wonder why South Africa now tops the list of sex trade tourism.

The family I stayed with on Friday night are a mix of UK and South African descent.  I consider them my second family. 

And we spent the afternoon and evening, playing cricket and rugby in their garden.  They have two children, one who is turning 8 on Monday and was just diagnosed with a mild epilepsy and a little boy who is 2.  And in the guest house, lives a black single mother from Zimbabwe with her little girl who is 4.

We played outside until we could no longer see the lawn.  And then I went with the mother to buy pizzas for all of us.

While waiting for the oven baked pizzas to be made in my favorite part of JoBurg – Mellville – she confided to me that they were packing to leave as soon as possible.

“Why?”  I asked.

“We were burglarized twice last week?”

“Twice?” I asked startled.

“Yeah, they jumped over the wall of the garden and broke in.” She paused as the emotions overcame her.  “And it’s not about the stuff.  Not at all.  Its that they did it in the middle of the day.  I am often at home with the kids in the middle of the day.  So they must watch me.  What if one day – they decide to rape me?  What if they decide to adduct my son?  And the police do not care.”  The emotions rising in her.  “They lose dockets all the time.  Cases just disappear.  And they are getting bribed all the time.”

And I knew why.  The police are paid nothing.  So in order for police families to stay above the poverty line – they take bribes. 

And suddenly, I was not too worried about my second South African family.  I was worried about the black single mother from Zimbabwe.  Where would she go?  She was illegal in the country of South Africa – looking for a better life for her beautiful little girl.  My friend’s family they would be fine.  The husband was probably the smartest guy I ever met.  And the mother is and will be my future literary agent for one of the biggest Publishing Firms in the UK.

But this little girl – being raised by a single black mother – where will she go?  Will they roam from place to place?  Will she raped like 60 – 75% of black women in South Africa when she becomes a teenager? 

And being raped by men – men who cannot find jobs because of lack of skills and education which the job market is dominated by white and black royal class who were given power and money by inheritance or the struggle.

This is the South African Free Market. 

But there is a solution.  Re-investement.  Incentives to social programs.  Help the country to build the country.  Give people a reason to want to build it up.  Instead of simply exploiting it like the Dutch and German did when they first settled and made slaves of  the “Malay” and Black tribes.  And then later the British Empire that made slaves of the Dutch, Malay (now known as the coloured population), and pitied the Xhosa and Zulu cultures against each other.  And finally the Apartheid era which created exploiting monopolies like the DeBeers diamond monopoly where they would cut the arms off of children and mothers to make the fathers work harder in the diamond mines.  Just to make that beautiful diamond engagement ring that your grandmother wears.

Rebuild Africa.  I beseech all those that call themselves African-Americans.  Stop with the bling-bling and use your money to rebuild Africa. 

And South Africans show some dignity.  What can you do with all your millions?  Re-invest it in your country.  Free the street children.  Free the women who are raped.   Free yourself.  The more money you make – the more soulless you become.

This is the hope of a former Euro-African-American moving on to Hong Kong (because the laws do not allow me to stay).  Love yourselves and the gorgeous country that the world calls “Mother Africa.” 

For a nation full of soul, do not sell yours.