Coffee shop revolution: iLIVE

“Time to get off your lily white arses“, I screamed.” This country is in trouble, our children are in trouble, we’re in more trouble than you can shake a stick at”, I yelled waving my dessert spoon in the air for emphasis.

My four friends stopped chewing and drinking for a moment.  They looked up at me, a mixture of pity and embarrassment.

“You wanna climb down from that chair?” Karen asked, calmly.  “The other patrons are beginning to stare.

I surveyed ‘Scusi’ from my elevated soapbox.  The other patrons were indeed beginning to stare.  I stared back at them.  Menacingly.  They quickly put their heads down and went back to their breakfast specials.   

 “We can’t keep waiting for our leaders to do something about this”, I carried on feeling strangely emboldened, “Or wait for NEW leaders to appear.  We need to stage peaceful protests, get out our banners, and say NO to corruption, NO to kickbacks, NO to incompetence.  NO to people who say NO to the Dalai Lama.  We need to stop being so bloody submissive.  The time has come.”

Janey drained the last of her cappuccino, looked up slowly and said, “Are they using a different kind of bean now? The coffee has a weird kick to it.  Anyone else notice that?”

 “Excuse me!  Talk about your own lily-white arse,” said my friend Shareen.  “My arse is NOT lily white”

I looked down at her.  She was right of course.  But somehow the expression, “Get off your coffee coloured arses”, doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.  I apologized, hopped off my soapbox, and ordered another mango berry smoothie.

 “This country has constant service delivery protests” reasoned Shareen.  “We demonstrate and protest far more than any other country.  And we have a Constitution that ALLOWS us to do so.  We have a transparent democracy and those that are corrupt constantly get caught, and are named and shamed. You think what happens is unique to US?   The whole world is in terrible trouble”.

“Yes, of course”, I yelled back, while spooning fresh fruit and muesli into my mouth.  “I know we do, but our protests are always localized. The masses gather, without us”, I said looking at my comrades around the table. “Inevitably they involve setting fire to things, and turning over rubbish bins.  They become violent, and never really change a thing.  It is time for us to protest TOGETHER.  If it’s about service delivery in Diepsloot, we all need to travel to Diepsloot and march PEACEFULLY together. All of us.”

I was about to remount my soapbox, when Tessa stopped me in my tracks.  She’s able to do that with a single withering look.

“Can you speed up this diatribe, please?” she said quietly. “I have a committee meeting to get to”.  

Teena suggested perhaps its time to leave the country and go to Australia, where half of South Africa is already, and where they have no service delivery protests, because it’s “ UN Australian to do so in the first place”.

‘I don’t want to go anywhere’ I shrieked, signaling for Thabo to bring me another skinny latte.  But I suggested we take notes from the Arab Spring and the ongoing American Fall. “Let’s print our banners, get our T shirts, head to the streets and … peacefully … bring this Government down.”

The bill arrived, and that seemed to be the signal for no one to listen to me anymore.  My future comrades in arms had moved on to discussing us all meeting at the top of the Westcliff Steps for five o’clock champagne and strawberries.

I realise that my revolution may take a little longer than I anticipated.  But I’m convinced that the African Spring will happen.  I’ll make sure that it does.  I’ll be there every step of the way.  One coffee shop at a time!