Spitting in the well

HOWARD FELDMAN

Which might explain the approach of some “ex-South Africans” on social media.

Perhaps leaving South Africa is more painful than it is to leave another country. Perhaps those who left feel hurt and frustrated by the fact that they believe they had to leave, and along with that feeling, is some anger. Perhaps the new home is not that easy to settle into, or not that easy a place to live in, and there is a need to justify the emigration. It might be all or none of the above.

No one likes the “I told you so” guy. It is understandable and tempting to celebrate the moment when your dire warning was proved correct. And certainly, it is not unreasonable to want to let your closest Facebook friends know that you were sage in your decision.

But it is important to remember that many South Africans still actually live in the country. Chances are they know that things are tough, and know full well that they are sitting in the dark when others around the world are not.

Last week, in the midst of Stage 4 load shedding, when the cell phone signal hovered between edge and nothing, I just managed to refresh my Facebook feed. The first post I saw was from an “ex-South African” rabbi who claimed to have risen early in Australia (although he lives in Israel) to give a Skype shiur to South Africans.

Apparently, it was vital that he let South Africans know that they had no power because presumably they were confused as to why they were bumping into things. I could think of no reason why there could be any need for us to know that he had risen early. I would also be so bold as to suggest that considering that we were most likely overwhelmed by frustration and impotence – and that were sitting in the dark (or balancing on the jungle gym in search of a signal) – we hardly cared.

But his point was made. I told you so.

Not all “ex-South Africans” have this approach. There are many who, no matter where they live around the world, wish the country success. They do not need the country to fail in order to prove that their decision to leave was correct. They might be happy on some days and less happy on others. They might adore their adopted country, but still long for their friends and for the Highveld summer thunderstorms. They want their country of birth to flourish.

Many ex-South Africans owe a great deal to the country. Perhaps it is still their place of business and livelihood. It could have been the only country that sheltered their parents or grandparents from the storm of a European war. Maybe it is the country that educated and schooled them, or it is the home of the community that still looks after their parents. Whatever the case, it is important not to spit in the well that might once have sustained you.

More than that, it is probably also worth thinking – with some sensitivity – of those who still live in the country and who have chosen to continue to do so.

Contrary to what many abroad think, South Africans do not live in a constant state of denial. They are aware that the roads have deteriorated. They are aware of the crime and corruption. They are aware of the weakness in the currency, and how difficult things might be economically. And they are aware of the Eskom situation.

They know when the lights go out.

But mostly, on a Sunday, when they are sitting in the glorious African sun after a run through the beautiful leafy suburbs of their neighbourhood, and they are having coffee with their friends, they don’t send “ex-South Africans” their localised weather reports and remind them of what they are missing.