This same intransigence turns up in many new enterprises in South Africa. Africans think they have always had too little control over their environment, and they won't accept less. Before a labour-intensive business full of African employees fails, the unspoken (but vividly and traumatically acted out) dialogue goes something like this:
"If you take every short-term advantage, there won't be a factory to employ you."
"We don't care. This isn't what we wanted anyway."
"But how will you live?"
"As we always have — however we can. It's not as if we get real security from you."
"I can't respect you and make you secure unless you behave the way I do, seeing all the implications of doing a perfect job bottling soft drinks. Objects have meaning. You have to take account of all of the relationships and the consequences in order to be a civilised human being."
"I can't trust you unless you prove that I'm more important to you than the soft drinks I bottle. I take responsibility for every person in my life. You use me the way you use a machine. What's this ‘civilised human being'? You don't behave like a human being at all."
"You stink."
"No, you stink."
A close friend who had opened a fast-food restaurant would confer with his manager about the inventory: every kind of supply was disappearing, including gallons of cooking oil. It must be going out the back, but my friend wasn't going to chain the fire door. Rules were rules. Finally, threatened with bankruptcy, he closed the restaurant and its factory, laid off 35 African employees, and started a computer business with five employees, one Indian and four whites. He said the harrowing transition was worth not having Africans work for him any more.
In his subtitle, Johnson alludes to Alan Paton's classic Cry, The Beloved Country. "The Beloved Country" is a well-chosen phrase. In the novel, the presiding deity is a beautiful valley and the only happy ending is its environmental restoration — which will hold only, its benefactor concedes, until population growth overtakes the place's new fertility.
In South Africa, Europeans and Africans love the land in proportion to their annoyance with each other. Such a gorgeous and precious prize to fight over has helped turn their grievances against each other into myths. It is urgently time to start looking beyond the myths.
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