KGAUGELO MASWENENG | Dear students, don’t let the bastards grind you down

In 2016 23-year-old IT student Benjamin Phehla, from TUT, lost his life on the picket line of a Fees Must Fall protest. They had been marching from campus to campus in Soshanguve when a car ploughed into him and fellow marchers. They sustained injuries, and he died in hospital.  

He was a final-year student who could have gritted his teeth, finished his studies and gone off to work. And of course, pay his taxes. But the conditions in South African institutions are such that one is always plunged into activism. He did not have a choice but to protest, it became a moral duty and a matter of survival.

What many don’t know is that outside campus, he represented young people in the Black IT Forum in Gauteng, where he dazzled and challenged the affiliates with his articulation on the need for the decolonisation of the curriculum, student struggles, youth unemployment and challenges in between.  

It’s only March and the year has already been too long for students. We are on episode — I lost count — of students protesting over the financial exclusion at universities, poor funding systems at NSFAS, the cap on residence allowance and just access to education — the quality is another conversation altogether.  

In times like this, questions from phenomenal writer James Baldwin echo in my ears: “What is it you wanted me to reconcile myself to? You always told me ‘It takes time’. It’s taken my father’s time, my mother’s time, my uncle’s time, my brothers and my sisters’ time ... How much time do you want for your progress?” 

How many lives must be lost before NSFAS is run efficiently? How many students must walk around with a cloud of court cases for protests hanging over their heads before universities understand that the plight of young people is not a criminal element in itself? How much damage to property and infrastructure must we see before we listen to students? Are we not tired? 

But Lucas Mangope did warn us about this government of ex-convicts, he told us the ANC would terrorise us. It’s the same government whose modus operandi universities seem to delight in mimicking. There was chaos outside the Great Hall at Wits University on Friday when students clashed with private security.

Damaging property is the antithesis of advancement and it sadly murders your narrative. It resonates a double-barrelled shotgun with one barrel bent backwards.

The gut-wrenching scenes that keep playing out in these protests are reminiscent of the triggering movie, Sarafina. Except this time, Wits University reduced the media to impimpi whose presence would “inflame the situation” in its attempt to throttle freedom of speech. Six students, including the SRC president, were suspended. The arrogance and banality of it all! But I expected nothing less from an institution whose establishment is rooted in the idea of educating white males and pursuing the advancement of the rich first. 

There was a polarising discourse around the protests which veered in different directions. But logic began to break when foot-in-mouth Fikile Mbalula went off on a tangent and said “underperforming students” should not use politics to “justify failure”. A very sure and dismissive man. This is the same guy who “twarred” with a journalist after stirring confusion about South Africa’s position on the Ukrainian war by “jokingly” tweeting he was in the country.  

The same bright spark who posted his Photoshopped picture of the “minister of electricity” looking electrocuted with the caption, “Ndimlo [this is me]”. It’s too upsetting to mention that he has underperformed in the portfolio of policing and, until this week, transport. And just because he got away with calling Bafana Bafana a bunch of losers doesn’t mean he gets to invalidate the struggle of poor students.  

The most discouraging in all of this is the threat to media freedom. Video journalist Thabo Tshabalala, from TimesLIVE, was attacked and labelled an enemy of the movement on social media for taking footage of students vandalising property in the city last week. No-one wins here.  

In SA, unless you perform your poverty no-one pays attention. Things have escalated to a point where camping outside the vice-chancellor’s house is not a last resort but the next step. I’ve yet to hear a compelling argument on the best way to protest. But though uncomfortable to confront, our tactics and expression when we protest can affect how stakeholders and society respond.  

I digress. In 2007 in my hometown, Dennilton, there was a huge protest action that lasted for weeks, and I was only happy schools were shut down (my age is showing). It was over the demarcation of the areas under Moutse district from Mpumalanga to the Limpopo administration. The matter went all the way to the Constitutional Court. Though the demarcation forum argued that the redetermination of provincial boundaries has a lasting effect of breaking up contiguous areas that have a shared history and infrastructure, Moutse was slotted under Limpopo.  

Before this, we had a bit of infrastructure and a stadium, the OR Tambo Stadium, but in the protests, it was reduced to a smouldering wreck. 

It’s been 16 years and the stadium stands as a tombstone of its old self.   

Damaging property is the antithesis of advancement and sadly murders your narrative. It is a double-barrelled shotgun with one barrel bent backwards: the ANC won’t fix the things you destroy, and you might catch a case for violent behaviour. 

While you navigate this gargantuan fight, may you be comforted by the life that Phehla lived. May you realise your path and walk in it fearlessly, as early as possible. The system won’t stop playing this sordid game, but be resilient and tactical. They don’t want your movement of change unless you’re moving out of the way.     

In Handmaid’s Tale style, chest strap these words: “Nolite te bastardes carborundorum [Don’t let the bastards grind you down].”