Whites in black

This week has seen some history in he making in South Africa. The call for our president Jacob Zuma to step down are not new but we saw them reach a new level during this weeks protest marches which took place on Friday. Social media is a wash with photos,  articles and posts. To march or not to march, this was the question ! Middle class, aging, hippy , (Doug calls me a liberal  and thats ok, christian and wife ... mother of 4 white sons. All these hats collide in this one decision.

Honesty it was painful. I umed and aaed. Jacob Zuma is not a worthy president and I do want him to step down. The complex issues around land and ecconomy and social justice have all  found a home in my indecision. And so I asked God for his insight and direction.

I landed on a prayer meeting in our home to start the day which was attended by a few dear woman. We wresteled and asked our requests of the Lord. As we sat in the comfortable lounge , sipping coffe and praying we could begin to hear the hooting and whooping from main road.

And so we went to check the lay of the land.......

I am no stranger to protest marches. My young adult days were in the heiht of the 80/90 when the country was in chaos . The struggle for freedom had reached its heiht and deals were beeing struck. It was a heady, scary, war time. Dougie was invovled with the NC as a representative on the JHB sub region. We were in the thick of things.  Marching back then was not for sissies but at least our white skin sort of saved us. Soldiers in big, yellow war machines looked on in disgust as we shared the way with the other but the same. These protesters meant business. Collecting stones to defend and break down.
It was always a risk to march pre 1994 . And yet if felt right. It was right.

One Unday afternoon, I remember the radio announced aother bomb...... Do0ugs feelow comrade Susan Keen had been killed. We wept and held each other. We went to the ANC lead funeral and wept some more. Oh cry for our beloved country.

And yet,.... here we are. How did we get here. I mean this collectively and personally.

And so I stood on the road side while Doug stayed away. It felt to me like a rugby game tour or one of those 2010 world football matches or perhaps a concert of sort. It felt like that more than a protest despite the calls and hoots. When it was over, we walked back to comfy suburbia . I did not feel like I personally accomplished much. You see my fellow white people and I have never really been on the same page politically. I have spent much of my life alone in my ideas . Except for Dougie. Of course. It is difficult being white and radical and christian. It is lonely.

This week the most exciting thing that happend was that on FaceBook, I stumbled upon great conversations and challenging conversations. There are in fCt other whiteys who are Christ followers who "get it".

Thank you Lord. The struggle within  and without continues.