The day before the night

On Sunday, I had an article that would write itself. Those are my favourites, as the words flow from the heart and the pages are filled before I have time to consider the detail of what I’m going to write. Those types of columns are rare, and occur only when I’m either moved in a positive way or the complete opposite – when I’m so frustrated and devastated that the only way for me to process what I’m feeling is through words.

Sunday was the former. I had heard about the vaccine initiative spearheaded by Rabbi Aharon Zulberg at The Base. I had received notification from different communities, all of whom were encouraging members to register and get vaccinated, and so, before recording the Sunday COVID-19 podcast, I quickly went past to see it for myself.

I was blown away. Between the health department, The Base, volunteers, the Community Security Organisation, and Hatzolah, the process was managed down to the last detail. It was magnificent to see that not only members of the Jewish community had taken the opportunity to get their vaccines done in a welcoming manner. At the end of the day, Zulberg confirmed that they had vaccinated more than 870 people. I had nothing to do with this, and yet I felt so much pride for the rabbi, The Base, all the communities that supported the initiative, and for all those who were involved.

And then Monday happened. The looting that had begun in KwaZulu-Natal spread to Gauteng. My social media and communication became dominated by real horrors as well as false information. And just like that, within hours, our world was consumed by fear and anxiety. By Tuesday, when I penned this column, I had nothing to write. Because Sunday might have been only 48 hours in the past, but it seemed a lifetime away.

When news of the looting started to circulate, I made the decision not to watch all the footage that I was sent. I decided not to forward it, as I knew what watching it was doing to me. I made the decision that so long as I was up to date and I knew what was happening, I wouldn’t need to see clip after clip after clip of destruction. “Looting porn”, I decided, wasn’t for me. So I opted out.

That, however, was only half the battle. I also made the decision to remember Sunday – a day so easily forgotten. I did it because in all the important ways, Sunday says so much more about who we are than Monday does. Sunday speaks to what we are capable of as a country and as a community, and what it means to take an active stance in bettering the lives of those around us.

Monday speaks simply to fear, and all that’s negative.

I have little doubt that the current situation will pass. I’m confident that things will settle, and that probably few lessons will be learned. I also know that as tempting as it is to spend energy on Monday, we will gain so much more by focusing on the day before.