NIVASHNI NAIR | This is not a movie, it's our lives

My husband was almost hijacked on Wednesday.

It happened in broad daylight. The sort of thing you think will never happen to you. If it weren’t for a sharp-eyed, quick-acting security guard, we might have been planning a funeral now. That’s how real this is. That’s how close it always is.

And yet, around the country, people are giggling over memes and trading popcorn commentary on the circus that is our police minister Senzo Mchunu’s “soap opera”.

“South Africa is a movie,” they say.

Yes, the chaos in that office is almost surreal if it didn’t have deadly consequences. But this is not a movie. There’s no script, no safety net, no director yelling “cut” before the blood spills.

This is South Africa. A place where we have normalised trauma. Where an attempted hijacking barely registers as news. Where the minister in charge of policing is at the centre of scandal that threatens to rock our safety

This is South Africa. A place where we have normalised trauma. Where an attempted hijacking barely registers as news. Where the minister in charge of policing is at the centre of scandal that threatens to rock our very safety.

We are a country where criminals operate with terrifying confidence. They know the police are stretched too thin, underpaid, demoralised or simply not coming. They know the wheels of justice turn slowly and corruption is a shortcut.

Crime has become part of our rhythm. We clutch our bags tighter in malls. We eye every car that slows near us. We rush into our homes and lock the gates like we’re in a war zone. We don't live, we calculate risk every day. Except there’s no official war, just this unspoken agreement that crime is something we live with. Like load-shedding, like potholes, like broken promises.

And the worst part is we’ve stopped expecting more. We shake our heads and say, “That’s just how it is”. But it shouldn’t be. It’s not normal to live like this. It’s not normal for a child to grow up thinking burglar bars and panic buttons are part of life.

There is no political will to fix this. That’s the truth. If there was, we wouldn’t be living like prisoners in our own country. We keep installing higher walls, adding more cameras, checking our rear view mirrors three times before we pull into our driveways.

We’re not being dramatic. We are being realistic. Every South African has a story. Every one of us knows someone who didn’t make it. We are being held hostage. Sometimes figuratively, too often literally, by criminals who are emboldened by the state’s apathy.

We are not safe in our homes. We are not safe in our cars. We are not safe in the places we’re meant to feel most secure.

South Africans are tired. Not just of crime, but of watching politicians pretend to care about it. We’re tired of leaders who show up at crime scenes for the cameras, only to disappear when the questions get uncomfortable.

When a senior cop stands up and says, “I believe there’s interference from the top,” and names the minister responsible for our safety, we should all stop what we’re doing and pay attention. Because this isn’t just about him. It’s about whether those tasked with protecting us are being undermined from within, shattering any trust people once had in the police, leaving communities feeling abandoned and vulnerable.

If Mchunu’s “shock” over Lt-Gen Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi’s claims is real, it raises serious questions about how little control he has over the portfolio he’s supposed to manage. If it’s an act, that’s even more dangerous. Then we’re not just dealing with incompetence, we’re looking at complicity.

Either way, it stinks.

And in that rot, crime flourishes. Gangs take over streets. Drug lords expand empires. Killers walk free. All while the people who are supposed to be investigating them are being sidelined, reshuffled or silenced.

While the politicians spin, real people are checking their doors three times before bed. They’re buying pepper spray for their teenage daughters and they’re burying family members who should still be alive.

That’s why this matters.

Until getting to the bottom of the allegations and acting on the findings becomes the urgent priority it should be, not a trending meme, not a headline, but a national mission, we will keep mourning. We will keep bracing ourselves for the next “almost”.

And one day, there’ll be no security guard nearby to save us.

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