 David Rattray, at Fugitive's Drift
The grass is rich and matted, you cannot see the soil. It holds the rain and the mist, and they seep into the ground, feeding the streams in every kloof. It is well-tended, and not too many cattle feed upon it; not too many fires burn it, laying bare the soil. Stand unshod upon it, for the ground is holy, being even as it came from the Creator. Keep it, guard it, care for it, for it keeps men, guards men, cares for men. Destroy it and man is destroyed.
These lyrical words open the haunting, tragic "Cry, the Beloved Country", by Alan Paton. The book, written in 1948, traces the journey of a father in search of his son across the backdrop of the Apartheid state. The story, though, is also of how a divided nation murders even those who dedicate their lives to straddling the divide. For Father Stephen Kumalo’s son, Absalom, has murdered Arthur Jarvis, a campaigning human rights lawyer. The murder destroys not only the lives of those involved, but is also used by the Apartheid government as an excuse for further discrimination and abuse.
And societies in stress continue to murder those who stand forward to heal the wounds and bridge the rifts in those societies.
In Kenya, Professor Job Bwayo, crusader for HIV research in Nairobi, was killed during a car hijacking. In South Africa, David Rattray, one of the foremost researchers and story-tellers of the Anglo-Zulu wars and the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, gunned down during a robbery.
All across Africa come stories of murders such as these; not of politicians or statesman but of passionate, dedicated people who - through their commitment to pursuing their craft at the highest level - bring credit to their nations. They allow outsiders - who so often see nothing but despair and outrage in these troubled lands - to see their homes as a place where hope is possible, and professionalism and pride are normal.
When they are killed the act does more than just cause sorrow and loss amongst those close to them. It also destroys all the faith that was placed in that land. Murdering idealists tells others that ideals, in this land, in this place, in this time, have no value. Those who seek dreams should pursue them elsewhere.
And then it is left to politicians, pale parodies of real idealists, to attempt to calm the waters and lead on.
There are no quick answers to these losses other than to say, keep dreaming. For the light of an ideal shall, eventually, burn out those who would seek its destruction.
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