Jackson Mthembu's death: The day our nation's soul was torn away

Photo Credit: Jan Gerber/ New24

On Thursday, I was driving when my radio programme was interrupted by the announcement of Jackson Mthembu’s death. I had to pull off to compose myself. “No, not Jackson!” was all I could think.

Like so many in this country, I have been really shaken by Jackson’s death. Of course, I am very sad for his children and his wife, who have lost a father and husband. I also feel sorrow for the President who lost a dear friend and right-hand at a time when he needs it more than ever. And yes, on a personal front, I will miss not hearing Jackson holler my name when I pass him in parliament and then getting a bear hug.

However, there is something more behind the grief and despair I felt since Thursday. It is a sadness for the country.  

Jackson was one of the good ones...

In fact, he was one of the super good ones. He understood and lived the true meaning of decency – which is increasingly rare amongst our (and the globe’s) politicians.

Bob Dylan talked in his song “Murder most foul” about “a soul of a nation been torn away”. This is how I felt when two weeks ago, the police (under the watchful eye of Minister Lindiwe Zulu) sprayed people who were trying to re-register for their grants outside the SASSA offices in Belville with a water cannon. Their crime: they didn’t social distance.

What has happened to politicians, the police, and civil servants, that we treat the weakest of the weak with such cruelty and disdain?

How have we lost our soul like this?

Stories and photos of desperate pensioners and disabled people sleeping for days outside SASSA offices have been doing the rounds for months now. Yet, not only has the government not done anything to alleviate the situation, they have decided to make people re-register again, resulting in even longer lines of desperate people, making it in turn even harder to physically distance.

I have tried really hard to find another side to this story, but it completely escapes me. I mean, did the heavily armed cops actually feel so threatened by the elderly and disabled that they could not just shuffle them into a row with a bit of distance between each person?  Were they worried someone would hit them with a crutch or a handbag? More importantly, how could the Minister stand by and let it happen? Where was her sense of compassion and decency?

If you haven’t had food for yourself or your children for days, why would you care about a virus?

A few days ago, it was reported that Nomini Madubela, a 55-year old woman from Grabouw, died while waiting in the SASSA queue to re-register. She had been standing waiting for more than 24 hours outside the office. Her friend said that she had not eaten for “a very long time” and that her young daughter went out on the day to try and get a job to buy food for her siblings.

Just think about this for a minute: Nomini died in the queue because she had not eaten for days! It is people like her that our government sees fit to spray with a water cannon.

The soul of our nation has truly been torn away.

And now Jackson is also gone….  

At his funeral, Thandi Modise asked the nation to honour Jackson by renewing our efforts to fight the COVID-19 pandemic. No one can argue with that. However, it seems to me, if we truly want to honour Jackson, all of us (and especially his colleagues in politics) should embrace (his) decency and compassion in our daily life… especially when dealing with those that need help the most. 

Mavis Mahlakoane, the nurse who cared for Jackson in hospital, spoke movingly at his funeral about his final days. She described how, despite being close to death, he thanked her for all her help, was concerned about her driving home late at night, and worried about leaving his “friend Cyril” behind.

He truly was one of the good ones, one of the super good ones… May he rest well.