South Africa Knox

I have a man in place in Johannesburg now and though in my telephonic conversations with him I haven't found him overly enthused about his posting, I attribute that to the natural problems of adjusting to a new culture and social milieu. The businessman in me is buoyant for, as predicted, ties between the new government and India (always an astute supporter of the African National Congress) are strong, and trade prospects look lively.

Unease begins at the airport kerbside. I am waiting with my bags for my colleague to drive up from the car park. "Be careful," he tells me before he walks away. "Don't address any strangers who might approach you." When I am seated and roll down my window, he instructs me to roll it right back up and to lock my door from inside. "Why?" "Carjackings," he replies. "At least 10 a day in Johannesburg on an average." And he explains in graphic detail what this expression that is new to me means.

This, I realise later, was just a brief foretaste. Personal security, or the lack of it, seems to be Johannesburg's favourite subject of cocktail conversation. Carjackings, burglaries, break-ins, hold-ups, kidnappings, bag snatchings, stabbings, shootings, stranglings. Every imaginable variation of violent urban crime. And no stratum of society is exempt; no one is immune. As a result, personal security is a thriving business. Competition is fierce and efficiency is high: over a two-year period, committed response time to an alarm going off at a house has reduced from 10 minutes to three. Three seems incredible, but the figure has been verified twice over by my colleague's wife, having unintentionally tripped the alarm each time.

Houses and apartments are slightly less complicated versions of Fort Knox. Three separate locks that guard the reinforced door at the entrance, alarms that sound when any of the locks is tampered with, infra-red rays that detect movement within the room that adjoins the entrance, window panes wired to emit an instant warning if shattered. All connected to the central control room of the security service, which has patrol cars that cruise the streets day and night. In adequate numbers, it seems, which accounts for the quick response time. And God help you if you don't remember the password issued to you each week when you trip the alarm by accident and the men in uniform knock at your door, for the blokes have a reputation of being trigger-happy.

At the broader political level too, things are restive. The Inkatha-ANC feud simmers constantly and boils over into brutal violence every once in a while. The white community, which still maintains a stranglehold over business and hence the nation's economy, is quiet and withdrawn into itself. Rumours abound of sinister moves by extreme right-wingers, but overtly, all is subdued. The unions are confrontationist in their stance and the ANC, which at one time used them to fight the injustices of the former regime, is now unable to leash them in.

The result of all this is that the inflow of investment from the West that was expected after the elections hasn't materialised in any significant measure. In fact, in slow doses, business is moving out. And the government sticking to a protectionist regime of high import duties and taxes hasn't helped the situation any. All this has contributed to unemployment, which in combination with unfettered urban migration has unleashed a crime wave of frightening magnitude.

A vicious circle, but for traders like us, the pickings are still good. Purchasing power may be eroding slowly, but there is plenty to go around even now. And with channels with its neighbours having opened up following the change in government, South Africa is today a thriving re-export centre.

The irony of this nation lies in the two societies, the two economies that coexist there today. One is comparable to any developed economy. Look at the roads, the communication systems, the plentiful availability of water and power, the giant shopping malls, the upmarket boutiques. The other, rising as it is from years of subjugation and humiliation and confronted with the spectre of abject hopelessness that unemployment brings with it, seems to be expressing its anger in mindless violence and anarchy.

Hope expresses itself in strange ways. For example, in the fact that in many black-oriented schools, the average age in Grade IX say, is 30 plus as many who missed out in earlier days attempt to complete their education. Or of the story related to me by a scion of Gandhiji's family, a school teacher, who had to ban cellular phones in class to tackle a prosperous backbencher of Grade X, who insisted on conducting a wee bit of business during study period.

It is to be seen whether Africa's first world is resilient enough to withstand the onslaught of the second. Therein lies the key to the future of Madiba's* land.?

An endearment by which Mandela is known, the nearest equivalent being Bapu.