The Crime of Caring

It is different when it happens to you. Your heart beats viciously against your chest as if it is fighting to be free of its bodily constraints; your eyes scan the room desperately in search of help; your hands shake and fumble through the many things in your oversized bag as you search for the leather sensation that will hopefully satisfy his hand and grant you your freedom… It is different when it happens to you. Perhaps it is because you never think it will happen to you.
I was once entertained by small town Rhodes students (some of whom have never even seen a highway) who spoke nervously about Johannesburg referring to its dangerous roads and “hijack hotspots”. I now find the irony quite hilarious for the only time I have ever truly feared for my life was about three weeks ago in the safe haven that is Grahamstown.
There is a misconception amongst Rhodes first year students about the safety in Grahamstown. Many people come from big cities such as Johannesburg, Durban and Cape Town with the idea that the little town of Grahamstown is harmless. One first year journalism student came to Rhodes University as he felt it was a “small and slow paced community, the ideal environment to study.” I know that that was certainly my perception. I use to live quite a paranoid existence in Johannesburg always checking at least twice every night that the alarm was on. Part of the attraction of Grahamstown was the idea of living a stress free life away from the madness and buzz of the city life. This is not to say that you do not get that in Grahamstown but it is to say that we should not be naïve in out presumption that a smaller town will have less crime. In a country in which so many are starving it must surely be expected. How devastating is it that we have to settle for such circumstances? Another journalism 1 student’s preconception was also shattered and she shares this with her fellow students as she writes on her blog that “it is ridiculous that even in such a small place like Grahamstown, crime is such a potent issue.”
It is a strange process to go through. You initially just feel shocked, literally unable to believe that you were just held at knife point by two teenage boys in the place in which you spend up to ten hours a day, the drama department – your second home. When it finally sinks in you break down, strengthen, and become angry that you have been violated. Then when time starts to allow your anger to settle you begin to think past your initial feeling of fear and irritation. You start to question. Why did they do that? Why should two young boys have to point a knife at a young girl? And then guilt begins to eat at you. While the worst thing that has happened to you is that you have had a silver blade shoved into your face, these boys must struggle for food and survival everyday of their lives. It is a sad time in South Africa when we become use to such incidents and the common response is “at least you weren’t hurt.” It is the hurt that I hold from seeing the lack of fear in a young boys eyes that now truly burdens me.
Crime and more importantly poverty is a national problem. No small town will allow us to escape that. Other first year journalism students are starting to pick up on it one admitting that “Now I’m really worried. In fact, I’m really scared”. But we should not accept it as something that just happens for it is not something that is remotely acceptable. Everyday the Rhodes website has new headings such as WARNING: MUGGING and REPORTED RAPE in which they remind students to be aware and safe. I should not have to be on guard while rehearsing in the drama department on Rhodes campus.
I do not even have advice for future first years. I just have sad words of warning to the entire country. We have a problem. We need to do something about it. A fellow journalism 1 student believes what is in need is a “revolution of the mind” otherwise it could get to the point where the one who is affected by it is somebody close to you or even you yourself and I know.. It is different when it happens to you…