Not voting is not an option, your vote counts.

Young ladies doing laundry at the Alexandra Women's Hostel

 wearing  T shirts of different political parties

The first democratic elections were a life changing event that brought excitement, anxiety, hope and fear. 

Fear was more dominant than excitement and hope 25 years ago. Parents walked in numbers when they were attending meetings and to an extent armed. As children we received various instructions, such as, Xa ubona umntu ongamaziyo uxelele umntu omdala,  ungazityi iilekese oziphiwa ngumntu ongamaziyo; xa ubuzwa umntu walapha ekuhlaleni uhlala phi uze uthi awumazi, wakugqiba ubaleke ubuye uzosibonisa lomntu ubuza abantu, ungazityi iilekese oziphiwa ngamapolisa, ungaxeleli bantu ngezinto zalapha ekhaya, among others.

If you were lucky, you would eves drop on the adult’s conversation about Inkatha that has been spotted near Mthatha or the Flagstaff region. The National Party threat was the one at the door and they shared  advises on how one should respond when approached by a National Party agent who was “buying” his or her vote or asked information about those in the forefront of activism in the community.

“Do not say no, take the money or food parcel and agree to vote for them. Do not eat the food or open the envelope or package, if the money is in it. Stay alive, do not give them a reason to kill you. They will not set their foot at the voting station to monitor you, we will be there,” was one of the common advice given as talks of NP agents roaming the streets of Mdantsane spread like wild fire in hush tones.

Watching news, discussing them, or using news as a cover to discuss political issues was the cover our parents used to meet. For many of us, who accompanied them to these talks it was a chance to continue playing even in the dark, a rare privilege I might add.

The day came, the parents left very early, I remember locking the door behind them with their peers already waiting for them in the street, safety in numbers was still prioritised.  I woke up late to a very cold isidudu and umbhako, that we ate throughout the day. Most the parents had gone to vote, we were free - free from bathing, free from making the bed, free from cleaning the house, free to play all the hours they were gone.

But the freedom ended slowly, as the parents started trickling in, in the groups that they left as. Each was called home to face actions of the short lived freedom, kwakhala ibhanti nentonga yomtshayelo.  For a few of us, it was worse as I was asked to go fetch the stick that would be used to meet my punishment in the tree nearby. Umthi weKwepire wakwa Sis Nombulelo, our parents swore by this tree, its branches did not break but would bend as they were giving us a beating. We stood there selecting and testing the best or should I say worst branch to take home.

As soon as the houses were clean, bed made, parents were back concentrating on the radio news , reports of violence in some areas, led to them calling loved ones to check if they are ok. The evening came, we went to the neighbour’s house to watch television. Parents roared, clapped and ululated as they saw Nelson Mandela vote, as children we discussed the beatings from earlier, those who did not get them laughed. The day ended, with excitement and hope overwhelmingly high but fear was still lacking in some dark corner.

As today’s parents, fear is the last thing on our minds, so is the excitement and hope. Reports of political violence linked with the elections have been almost nonexistence.  There has been service delivery protests that can be linked to the election season. Political messages are shared publicly without fear. Political party regalia has become a fashion statement that people wear freely.  There are no whispers about the enemy, we are not warning children about strangers who have ulterior political motives and there are no places regarded as no go areas for a particular group of people. Tomorrow, children are likely to be glued to their favourite cartoon channels when adults make a quick in and out at the voting station, if the parent votes at all.

The fear went out the window so is the excitement, besides the political die hard who have been up and down praising their political parties, there is no visible euphoria on the society at large, in fact you are more likely to hear people asking political party members or leaders to leave them alone. Elections also do not bring much hope for the general public anymore.  

Ndivotele ntoni, is a common question you will get when asking a person if they are going to vote. People have become despondent, as they see political parties and their leaders as devils who will not change their lives, thieves who do not aspire hope and self- riching megalomaniacs. South African politicians have proven that they put their parties first and the needs of the country take take second place.

It has become common for today's leaders to evoke the names of the fallen heroes who were seen as doing something positive for the society as they are draped in robes of scandals and are dripping stolen swag. That the country has offered us, these kind of people as our leaders is an indictment on us more than it is on them. How did we allow the bar  of leadership to be this hopelessly low? How did we allow ourselves to reach this point, is a question that we have to answer as society even after the elections

Enough about complaining,the ball is now in our hands again. Our forward step rests on the Ndivotela ntoni question. You vote to bring hope to the country, you vote to change what you do not agree with, you vote to maintain what you support and deem to be right for the country and generations to come, you vote for the betterment of the country and yes your vote does count.

AMANDLA, NGAWETHU. Let us reclaim our power tomorrow.