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On the eve of my first protest

It is the eve of my first ever protest about anything really.  I am a little scared, a little excited, a little apprehensive but extremely motivated.  For those not following South African politics, our President last week fired our honest Minister of Finance and the South African economy took a tumble and we were downgraded to junk status by ratings agencies.

Economic and political uncertainty ensued all because of one man’s greed and corruption.  Junk status has dire implications for our country and as always the people who will be most affected are the poorest of the poor.  Interest rates will rise, so will inflation and food prices, jobs will be lost, the list of horrible things goes on.

Ordinary South Africans have now had enough and for the first time ever people from all walks of life are united behind a common cause, to save South Africa. 

I have never in my 40 years on this earth been moved by any cause, not enough to actually take action, but I am afraid.  I am afraid that my children will have no future in this great country that we call home.  I am scared that thousands of people on government grants will fall further into a deep cesspool of despair that they will never get out.  I am scared that our country is falling apart faster than some good people that remain can rebuild it.  I am scared for my children growing up in the era of Zuma’s where there are no Mandela’s or Kathrada’s left. 

What can you do?  As someone who already tried and failed the emigrating to Australia route, my only option, my only legal right is to protest.  To march peacefully with what I hope to be thousands of others and to make the world take notice of us and our fears and despairs, but also our hopes.  Our hopes of fixing this country of ours.  The country of Mandela, Chris Barnard and Uncle Kathy.  The country of Trevor Noah, Mahatma Gandhi, Gary Player.  Diversity, unity, strength.

I brought my sneakers, a poster, and a South African flag and at 1pm today I am marching in the Sandton mile, a peaceful protest for change in our country.  I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, it is heavy, because I am not marching for myself.  I am marching for my children and their children, for my elderly granny who cannot march.  For some South Africans who are too scared to march, or who simply have given up and who think that marching and social media activity is not enough to save our country.  I am marching because it is my constitutional right to do so and I am marching because I can no longer sit around doing nothing.  I am marching because I know that together we can achieve more and I am marching because bad things tend to happen when good people do nothing.

I will not be alone in my quest,  I am joined by a team and making posters and shouting the odd “Amandla” in the office has been cathartic and liberating.  It feels like we are finally doing something about our fate.  When I look at us and our different races, religious convictions, ages, genders, I am filled with hope, there is more keeping us together than there is tearing us apart.  South Africans must unite and see that we are all the same, that we share the same hopes, fears and dreams.  This is our country, it belongs to all of us and together we can take a stance and bring about change.  People should stop thinking that they are small and insignificant and powerless.  There is an African proverb that says

“If you think you are too small to make a       difference, try sleeping in a room with a mosquito”.

We all matter, and if we all stand together we can make this work.

God bless Africa, Amandla Awethu


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