John Davis - Roots of Outrage

She looked at him narrowly with those beautiful brown eyes.

‘The truth of the matter is that you’re a racist, darling.’

No. A realist. The truth of that matter lay in those mortuaries, in the cloven heads, the stab and hack wounds down to the bone, the severed limbs, genitals cut off for muti; the stick fights, two, three, four hundred armed a side, all breaking loose. The truth of the matter was in the chaos of the Congo, the turmoil in Uganda, the horrors of the Mau Mau, the corruption of Ghana. The truth of the matter was Luke Mahoney liked blacks and wanted to help them: he simply did not believe they were ready yet to run the country.

‘No. The solution is a policy of gradualism,’ he said. ‘Equal rights for all civilized men. Meanwhile let the others have a degree of local self-government in their areas, so they gradually learn the responsibilities of democracy.’

‘The “civilized” ones. “Them.” You really don’t consider them to be ordinary people, do you? They’re a different species. God, that’s typical of the white man – even the liberal white man: the blacks are “ them ” out there picking their noses, they’re not like “ us ” though of course there are a few civilized ones and of course we mustn’t be beastly to “ them ”.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘But they are different.’

‘Of course they’re different, Patti. Different cultures, different institutions, different ideas on how to live and behave.’

‘And therefore unfit to govern themselves and have the vote?’

‘The vote, democracy, is a sophisticated Western institution. It’s alien to them, not one of their institutions. If they’re going to adopt it – or have it thrust upon them – they’ve got to learn how to use it.’

‘Become “civilized”? By your standards.’

‘By normal standards.’

‘By normal standards you’d have to exclude a lot of the dumb whites in this country.’

‘Agreed.’

‘And a hell of a lot of the peasants in Europe. So are you seriously telling me that if we were Italians, having this discussion in Rome now, you’d be recommending that we disenfranchise the peasants in the hills?’

He sighed. ‘No, because there are plenty of educated Italians to run the country properly. But there are not enough educated blacks to run South Africa by Western standards – and it’s Western institutions they want to take over.’

‘But there are enough educated blacks to run it their way.’

‘The African way? Sure. Shaka did it single-handed.’

‘Bullshit. You wouldn’t disenfranchise the Italian peasants because they’re white , but if they were black you’d only let the elite govern Italy. Or have a benevolent dictatorship, like Franco does in Spain.’

‘As a matter of fact a benevolent dictatorship may be good for Africa. “ Nobody has the vote for the next thirty years until we’re all civilized sufficiently to use it properly” – maybe that’s the answer. The blacks respond well under their chiefs and behave themselves. But to answer your question: no, I would not recommend disenfranchising the Italian peasants because they do not settle their political differences with an axe. They do not chop the opposition’s head open to make a point.’

‘And the blacks will?’

‘For God’s sake, Patti, they do .’

‘So there’s no hope?’

‘The hope is civilization. Gradualism.’

‘And what are these normal standards of civilization?’

‘Various alternatives. A reasonable level of education is obviously one. Income is another alternative. Or property – a man who owns his own house is smart enough to have the vote. Age is another one: when a man reaches say, forty –’

‘Forty, huh? You’re twenty, you have the vote and you’re judging the maturity of a man of forty. What white arrogance –’

He groaned. ‘You’re looking for a fight, aren’t you?’

‘Me? Never.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Patti. I love you.’

‘I love you too, big boy, so what’s that got to do with democracy? Except we’re not allowed to love each other.’

He said slowly, leaning forward: ‘Patti, I loathe apartheid. Apartheid must go, immediately. But surely that doesn’t mean we must reduce this country to chaos. Do you honestly believe that the ANC – or the blacks – can be relied upon – tomorrow – to run South Africa? With its vast civil service – its health, and railways, and airports and its judiciary and police force and its navy and its agricultural departments and its mines and industries and forests and game reserves and its economy – the whole works. Do you?’

She said angrily: ‘Obviously we’ll have to train a new black civil service –’

‘But they wouldn’t – they’d fire the whites and put their pals in office. That’s why we need gradualism. For God’s sake, apartheid must go , we agree on that, but I’m asking you whether, if apartheid was overthrown tomorrow, you honestly think that the blacks could successfully take over the administration of this country?’ He shook his head. ‘It would be a shambles.’

‘ Anything ,’ she said, ‘would be better than apartheid. Like anything would have been better than the Nazis in Germany. And you, sir –’ she placed her fingertip on his nose – ‘are a racist in your secret heart.’

But what the fuck were they going to do about each other? About the real world.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘This is the real world. We’ll do nothing, until we’re caught and sent to jail.’ She added: ‘Or until you leave me.’

Oh, bullshit. ‘So that only leaves one alternative: leave South Africa.’

‘I’m not leaving South Africa, Luke.’

He sighed angrily. ‘So that only leaves jail. And when we come out, what happens? Get caught again?’

‘True. So? So there’s only one thing to do.’

‘And that is?’

She said solemnly: ‘Capitalize and get married.’

He wondered if he had heard aright.

She smiled. ‘We get married in Swaziland in a blaze of publicity. You set it up through Drum and we’ll get other newspapers involved. “Young White Lawyer Defiantly Marries Indian Wench.” We drive back into South Africa to set up our happy home, we get arrested the first night and thrown in jail. Outcry. A black eye for South Africa.’

He groaned. ‘Be serious, for God’s sake. We go and live somewhere else. In England. In Swaziland.’

She smiled at him. Tenderly. ‘Thank you, Luke. And I love you too. But darling? This is my country of birth and I’m going to stay and see it through.’

‘See what through? Our jail terms? The bloodbath?’

‘I’m going to see those bastards in jail. A Nuremberg trial. Crimes against humanity.’

He took both her hands. ‘We can’t wait for that. We have no alternative but to leave the country.’

She sighed. ‘Yes we have. And that is to quit.’ She looked at him. ‘Split up. Before we’re caught. And never see each other again.’

He stared at her. ‘You don’t want that, so don’t say it. Ask yourself what you do want. And how you can achieve it.’

‘I want,’ she said, ‘a hell of a lot more than most women. I don’t just want a nice home and a nice husband with a nice job and nice children – I want justice for all. Freedom. Legal freedom – instead of legal bondage. And how do we achieve that? By getting rid of this Afrikaner government.’

‘You’re preaching to the converted.’

‘Yes, but you’re not prepared to fight for it. I am.’