Apartheid Stench In The American Air

The whip hand

I don’t want to get into any of this. But I can’t get away from it either. When I was 17 my dad was posted to the American Consulate in South Africa. I trundled along after him thinking African adventure. I got that, but I got a lot more than that. I saw people murdered. I knew people who were tossed off the roof of police stations. Casual brutality, jack boot oppression, arrests, intimidation, fear, racism and religion—a toxic mix.

Apartheid had a stink. It was a combination of human sweat, an earthy almost metallic edge, a heavy animal musk. Hard to describe, impossible to forget.

Africa is stunningly beautiful and I fell in love with the spirit of the place and the music from the roots of humanity. But it broke me in a lot ways. What I saw no kid should see. I wasn’t built to witness this hate and violence. Thank God for my music and the friends I made there.  I learned music is the bridge between us. But I also experienced some fundamental truths of our humanity, the violence we are capable of.

I’ve been triggered into all these haunted memories in my head. I’ve gotten a whiff of apartheid again. I thought I left it behind, but that was a naive thought. Racists are committed to their hate. It’s no casual thing.

“The Trump administration is planning to bring the first group of white South Africans it has classified as refugees to the United States on Monday, according to officials briefed on the plans.

Although the president halted virtually all other refugee admissions shortly after he took office in January, his administration hastily put together a program to allow in white South Africans, who he claims have been the victims of racial persecution in their home country.” NY TIMES

Principled America stood against apartheid. Economic isolation broke the back of the hideous apartheid government. But it was never about governments. It was about the whip hand of Caucasian arrogance fueled by perverted religion. It was about white people born to entitlement. I know the history. I know spin. But I also know the stink. I’m smelling it again. On Monday Trump welcoming the first white South African ‘refugees’ makes me want to puke. Seriously. I can’t believe that awful stench is in the air again.