The unfulfilled promise of democracy

I have vivid memories of what life was like when I was nine years old. The one that sticks out the most is of the township where I grew up – Seshego in Limpopo. There lived a man down my street who (without fail), went drinking every Friday night then stood in front of my house in the early hours of Saturday morning (on his way home), singing his favourite church hymn. I also remember that, while the man down the street sang his favourite hymn, that same year; every South African must have had a song of hope in their hearts, as they set off to cast their vote in the first ever democratic election.

Tomorrow, South Africans will once again converge at the voting stations to cast votes which will determine who ‘governs’ where we each live. Or at least we should. The last few months has seen campaigning at its best and worst. The leading political parties have gone out of their way to execute effective campaign strategies. Everything – the “kitchen sink” and even the toilet – has gone into strategies to garner votes. Anyone claiming to be oblivious to the events scheduled for tomorrow must have been living in another realm.

Campaigning of the last few weeks has resulted in many a “couch potato” analyst moments between friends and foe alike. In which positions were set and ideals defended. Struggle credentials were questioned and defectors were unceremoniously deleted from Facebook friend lists. The foundations of many a relationship, I am told, may need to be revisited after the ballot is cast, particularly for those ensconced by the leafy enclaves of the “Suburban Bliss” that is Cape Town.

A particular “couch potato” moment that has me deleted from some Facebook lists and reduced my already small list of followers on Twitter is the one regarding people refusing to vote. I am all for everyone exercising their right, whatever that right may be - as enshrined in the constitution of the land. I am also of the view that while it is one’s right to choose not to vote, it is also my right to request that upon omitting to do that, the said person is to refrain from opining about the state of affairs in the country, in my presence.

While each political party campaigns to serve ends to their own means, the one message they all unequivocally agree on is that everyone must exercise their right to vote. A right fought for by many who didn’t live long enough to enjoy it, a right which now that we have it, some refuse to exercise it!

I understand that political activism is not for everyone. However, the beauty of a democracy such as ours is that you don’t need to be an activist to make your voice heard. All you need to do is mark an ‘X’ on a ballot paper every few years. A simple act, yet the most valuable contribution we each can make to our country. To quote a political party leader speaking at a recent rally, “where you decide to cast your vote on May 18th will determine whether services will be delivered where you live. It will determine whether the lives of people living in poverty will improve or not. It will determine whether our country will move forwards or backwards”.

As for whom I’m voting for tomorrow? I find myself torn between the fear of wasting a vote and suffocating under the stench characterising this “toilet election”. The actions of the ruling party’s leaders (this year alone) have left a bad taste in my mouth. They have done every questionable act I can think of; be it callous spending, corruption, abuse of resources and power. We have even witnessed a loss of life during service delivery protests as a result of some of these abuses. The leading opposition party isn’t exactly without its sour taste either. While I live in the South Africa that I live in (the leafy suburbs of the Western Cape), my vote is a difficult one. This difficulty is compounded by my awareness that within the most “well run” municipality in the country, we are living in a divide of extremely unequal proportions.

I am faced with a moral dilemma of voting for the betterment of the masses who are neglected by all parties concerned or voting to protect my already protected living space. Needless to say, much more hair will be pulled and lost between tonight and end of day tomorrow, after my vote is cast. Whatever the decision, I must cast a vote. Not only so I can sing my own song in the middle of the night but also that I can sit on the couch and lambast or applaud my vote a year or two from now. So that I can opine about this, knowing I made my contribution on the 18th of May.