Tell them we are from here

Yet, as I left the stadium that night, I was filled with joy. More than 80000 people had cheered the Ghanaians on.

Africans united. Before returning home, the team went on a farewell tour to thank the South African fans who had adopted them as their own.

For a Pan Africanist, this was what dreams are made of. However, I kept remembering a sobering reality: the World Cup had been preceded by rumours of impending xenophobic attacks; that after the international community had turned off the spotlight on South Africa, some people were going to rid South Africa of "foreigners".

Hearing this, I was reminded of Italo Calvino's story about a city whose inhabitants, once they get bored, relocate to another city which is empty, and where everything starts afresh.

Doomed to repeat the same actions and discourses in the new city, they never learn anything. I was also reminded of a Somali taxi driver in Toronto, Canada, who, when I told him I was from South Africa, asked "Why are you killing my people?" I had no answer; all I could do was apologise.

That was in September 2007.

In May 2008 news reports of merciless attacks on "foreigners" hit the headlines. The shell-shocked nation watched bystanders laugh as Ernesto Nhamuave was burned to death. Someone said: "It would have been better if they gave us a warning and told us to leave."

At first I was struck by the irony of how we, in 2010, could welcome a host of people then threaten to chase others out.

Then came the denials. Politicians claimed it was a ploy to take away South Africa's shine, and that it was an effort to instill fear.

Whatever the reason, on Saturday July 10 a friend's tweet jogged me back to a morning in May 2008 when I received an SMS that read: "Good morning, Sir, . pls be informed that there is a plan to attack Nigerians from today till Sunday. Save life and inform our brothers."

The 2010 message I received read: "My cousin arrived home to a sign on the gate that read: 'All foreigners will be removed in 11 days'."

I told a journalist, who had written about the rumours. He was speechless with shame.

Reminded of the words of Wole Soyinka, "In any people that submit willingly to the daily humiliation of fear, the man dies", I decided not to submit to fear or wait until the threats were taken seriously, unsure of what that would require. A dead body or two?

On Facebook, I suggested to my friends that we turn our attention to the threat of xenophobic violence. Many responded by suggesting marches and public-service announcements.

Actress and poet Masello Motana announced that she was embarking on a walk-and-talk mission through the Joburg CBD last Monday. I decided to join her.

The morning after Spain had been declared Soccer World champions and had jetted out of South Africa as if they were in fear of attack, Motana and I walked the streets talking to taxi drivers, passengers and others hoping to start a dialogue and encourage people to dissuade others from attacking "foreigners".

M ost people condemned any form of killing. But their repudiation of violence seemed to always include a "but". "Foreigners must not come and bring crime," said one woman.

A pragmatic man spoke of not wanting to chase anyone away because they brought him business. We were told of taxi drivers who slapped Shangaan men, but this was stopped by the taxi owners.

A trader told us that, usually, the police patrolled the area, but not on that Monday morning.

Not prepared to shut down his business just yet, and convinced of God's protection, he was nevertheless ready to leave like his fellow traders whose stalls were empty.

The climate of fear had worked. The empty stalls and headlines shouting: "Xenophobia: What xenophobia?" convinced me that I am no longer interested in repetition. I want to effect change. As an artist, I can do it artistically; as a citizen I can do it as a member of civil society.

Two days after our walk-and-talk, Motana headed to Diepsloot with actor Tsepo Maseko to continue the dialogue. Actress Sthandiwe Kgoroge is making a public-service announcement.

If the problem is about scarce resources, then let's solve it. If the problem is fear of increased crime, let's address it. Whatever the problem, there is no justification for killing or harming anyone.

During one of the country's proudest moments - I shake my head in disbelief as I learn that three Somalis and a Ghanaian (the irony is not going unmissed) have been shot since the end of the World Cup, and that a Zimbabwean has been thrown off a train. Is this really happening again?

Sick and tired of this degeneration of a potentially great society, I am deeply moved by the words of a boy who, when asked what he wanted to tell those who chased him out of his home in 2008, said: "Tell them we are from here."

That is what I will call my next film. Tell Them We Are From Here. Here being planet Earth.

• Omotoso is a filmmaker