ALAN PATON'S WIDOW FLEE S.A

WHY I'M FLEEING SOUTH AFRICA
by Anne Paton (widow of Alan Paton)
(London Sunday Times)

I am leaving South Africa. I have lived here for 35 years, and I shall
leave with anguish. My home and my friends are here, but I am terrified.

I know I shall be in trouble for saying so, because I am the widow of Alan
Paton. Fifty years ago he wrote Cry, The Beloved Country. He was an
unknown schoolmaster and it was his first book, but it became a bestseller
overnight. It was eventually translated into more than 20 languages and
became a set book in schools all over the world. It has sold more than 15
million copies and still sells 100,000 copies a year.


As a result of the startling success of this book, my husband became
famous for his impassioned speeches and writings, which brought to the
notice of
the world the suffering of the black man under apartheid.
He campaigned for Nelson Mandela's release from prison and he worked all
his life for black majority rule. He was incredibly hopeful about the new
S outh Africa that would follow the end of apartheid, but he died in 1988,
aged 85.I was so sorry he did not witness the euphoria and love at the
time of the election in 1994. But I am glad he is not alive now. He would
have
been so distressed to see what has happened to his beloved country.


I love this country with a passion, but I cannot live here any more. I can
no longer live slung about with panic buttons and gear locks. I am tired
of driving with my car windows closed and the doors locked, tired of being
afraid of stopping at red lights. I am tired of being constantly on the
alert, having that sudden frisson of fear at the sight of a shadow by the
gate, of a group of youths approaching - although nine times out of 10
they are innocent of harmful intent. Such is the suspicion that dogs us all.

Among my friends and the friends of my friends, I know of nine people who
have been murdered in the past four years. An old friend, an elderly lady,
was raped and murdered by someone who broke into her home for no reason at
all; another was shot at a garage.

We have a saying, "Don't fire the gardener", because of the belief that it
is so often an inside job - the gardener who comes back and does you in.
All this may sound like paranoia, but it is not without reason. I have
Been hijacked, mugged and terrorised. A few years ago my car was taken
from me
at gunpoint. I was forced into the passenger seat. I sat there frozen. But
just as one man jumped into the back and the other fumbled with the
starter I opened the door and ran away. To this day I do not know how I
did this.
But I got away, still clutching my handbag.
On May 1 this year I was mugged in my home at three in the afternoon. I


used to live in a community of big houses with big grounds in the
countryside. It's still beautiful and green, but the big houses have been
knocked down and people have moved into fenced complexes like the one in
which I now live. Mine is in the suburbs of Durban, but they're springing
up everywhere.
That afternoon I came home and omitted to close the security door. I went
upstairs to lie down. After a while I thought I'd heard a noise, perhaps a
bird or something. Without a qualm I got up and went to the landing;
outside was a man. I screamed and two other men appeared. I was seized by
the throat and almost throttled; I could feel myself losing consciousness.
My mouth was bound with Sellotape and I was threatened with my own knife
(Girl Guide issue from long ago) and told: "If you make a sound, you die."
My hands were tied tightly behind my back and I was thrown into the guest
room and the door was shut. They took all the electronic equipment they
could find, except the computer. They also, of course, took the car.
A few weeks later my new car was locked up in my fenced carport when I was
woken by its alarm in the early hours of the morning. The thieves had
removed the radio, having cut through the padlocks in order to bypass the
electric control on the gates.

The last straw came a few weeks ago, shortly before my 71st birthday. I
returned home in the middle of the afternoon and walked into my sitting
room. Outside the window two men were breaking in. I retreated to the hall
and pressed the panic alarm. This time I had shut the front door on
entering. By now I had become more cautious. Yet one of the men ran around
the house, jumped over the fence and tried to batter down the front door.
Meanwhile, his accomplice was breaking my sitting- room window with a
hammer. This took place while the sirens were shrieking, which was the
frightening part. They kept coming, in broad daylight, while the alarm was
going. They knew that there had to be a time lag of a few minutes before
help arrived - enough time to dash off with the television and video
recorder. In fact, the front-door assailant was caught and taken off to
the cells.
Recently I telephoned to ask the magistrate when I would be called as a
witness. She told me she had let him off for lack of evidence. She said
that banging on my door was not an offence, and how could I prove that his
intent was hostile?
I have been careless in the past - razor wire and electric gates give one
a feeling of security. Or at least, they did. But I am careless no longer.
No fence - be it electric or not - no wall, no razor wire is really a
deterrent to the determined intruder. Now my alarm is on all the time and
my panic button hung round my neck. While some people say I have been
unlucky, others say: "You are lucky not to have been raped or murdered."
What kind of a society is this where one is considered "lucky" not to have
been raped or murdered - yet?
A character in Cry, The Beloved Country says: "I have one great fear in my
heart, that one day when they are turned to loving they will find we are
turned to hating." And so it has come to pass. There is now more racial
tension in this country than I have ever known.
But it is not just about black-on-white crime. It is about general
lawlessness. Black people suffer more than the whites. They do not have
access to private security firms, and there are no police stations near
them in the townships and rural areas. They are the victims of most of the
hijackings, rapes and murders. They cannot run away like the whites, who
are streaming out of this country in their thousands.

President Mandela has referred to us who leave as "cowards" and says the
country can do without us. So be it. But it takes a great deal of courage
to uproot and start again. We are leaving because crime is rampaging
through the land. The evils that beset this country now are blamed on the
legacy of apartheid. One of the worst legacies of that time is that of the
Bantu Education Act, which deliberately gave black people an inferior
education.
The situation is exacerbated by the fact that criminals know that their
chances of being caught are negligible; and if they are caught they will
be free almost at once. So what is the answer? The government needs to get
its priorities right. We need a powerful, well-trained and well-equipped
police force.
Recently there was a robbery at a shopping centre in the afternoon. A call
to the police station elicited the reply: "We have no transport." "Just
walk then," said the caller; the police station is about a two-minute
sprint from the shop in question. "We have no transport," came the reply
again. Nobody arrived.
There is a quote from my husband's book: "Cry, the beloved country, for
The unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the
earth
too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his
fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with
fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor
give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob
him of all if he gives too much."
What has changed in half a century? A lot of people who were convinced
That everything would be all right are disillusioned, though they don't
want to
admit it.
The government has many excellent schemes for improving the lot of the
black man, who has been disadvantaged for so long. A great deal of money
is spent in this direction. However, nothing can succeed while people
live in
such fear. Last week, about 10km from my home, an old couple were taken
out and murdered in the garden. The wife had only one leg and was in a
wheelchair. Yet they were stabbed and strangled - for very little money.
They were the second old couple to be killed last week. It goes on and on,
all the time; we have become a killing society.
As I prepare to return to England, a young man asked me the other day, in
all innocence, if things were more peaceful there. "You see," he said, "I
know of no other way of life than this. I cannot imagine anything
different." What a tragic statement on the beloved country today. "Because
the white man has power, we too want power," says Msimangu. "But when a
black man gets power, when he gets money, he is a great man if he is not
corrupted. I have seen it often. He seeks power and money to put right
what is wrong, and when he gets them, why, he enjoys the power and the
money.
Now he can gratify his lusts, now he can arrange ways to get white man's
liquor. I see only one hope for our country, and that is when white men
and black men, desiring neither power nor money, but desiring only the
good of
their country, come together to work for it.

I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they are turned to
loving, they will find we are turned to hating.