By Thato Chobokoane
Xenophobic attacks are wrong. They are cruel, unlawful, and beneath the ideals of the South Africa we all hope to see. Violence against fellow Africans can never be the answer. But condemning the violence should not stop us from asking the uncomfortable questions that remain after the dust settles.
Even with the xenophobic attacks in South Africa, the truth is that brothers and sisters fight in tight situations and tight spaces. And as much as the dispute may have been imminent, yes, you executed it with vulgarity. Violence has no place in any family, let alone one that calls itself the Rainbow Nation.
Now, this spring cleaning with no visitors in your house has somehow gained traction as a ruinous move. I don’t think people are seeing that you didn’t necessarily mean the love affair was over. You simply needed space.
You simply asked your lover to vacate your house for a little while so you could determine the future of your entanglement-the pace you want to set, the kind of home you want to build, and how you want to show up.
Because the truth is, when there are guests, and more guests keep coming, and the party gets out of control, the family always asks the guests to leave so they can talk, recalibrate as a unit, and get the house in order before sending out invitations again.
The news. Politicians. Social media. Influencers. They all want engagement. Engagement means money. So very few people are taking a sober look at the state of the nation, and the brokenness that has now become inherent and almost synonymous with the Rainbow Nation. The very machinery of South African governance is groaning under its own weight.
The last thing a family needs is to clean its house while the neighbours are still sitting in the lounge.
Guests leave so the family can argue properly, cry properly, pray properly, forgive properly, and prepare for the next season of their lives before inviting people back into their home.
Would it even have become this crystal clear that parts of Johannesburg, and some essential services-albeit not only medical ones-were being sustained almost entirely by foreign nationals? What does that say about ownership? About participation? About land? About influence across entire industries?
The studies were always there.
Now the mirror is unavoidable.
Imagine the economy belonged to you personally, neh. Joale, imagine it suffering because the neighbours didn’t come to work. Shutdowns because your neighbours had to be somewhere else.It’s only been a few days, and already you’re feeling the pain?
That tells you something.
Now, after that ghastly but effective display of propaganda, fear, and insults, the exodus has left behind evidence that the nation itself is in trouble.
South Africa now has an opportunity to reassess its economy, its participation in that economy, its financial realities, and, perhaps most importantly, its dependencies.
Understand yourselves, SA.
A deeply traumatised nation.
A nation still trying to become what it has always called itself.
The Rainbow Nation.
If South Africa pulls up its socks, it can regain its power and reclaim its share of voice. After all this mess, recovery is still possible.
Even morally, hle, SA.
Because the world has always loved a compelling story about the comeback kids.
You guys need privacy.
You need to fast in unison.
Tell the visitors they’ll be welcome back soon.
Right now, SA needs to perform family rituals without guests sniffing around.
And without the distant relatives gossiping outside the gate.
Because that’s what African families do, don’t they? We fight inside the house, and then Auntie in Botswana knows before lunch. Cousin in Zambia has already formed an opinion by supper. Malome in Lesotho is shaking his head. Rakgadi in Zimbabwe has a prayer meeting about it. By the weekend, everyone knows your business except the people who actually live in the house.
That’s family.
Fix your shit, SA.
It’s okay.
Because even today, an old African truth still rings true: families quarrel, but families also reconcile. What we should refuse to normalise is violence against one another. That is not culture. That is not ubuntu. And it should never become our identity.
Reports make money.
Outrage makes money.
Politicians make speeches.
Influencers make content.
Media houses feed the capitalist frenzy because attention pays.
So the market forgets.
But the body remembers.
Refuse to let your worst day become your identity.
Be the comeback kids.
One of the oldest narrative arcs in human history has always been the same:
Fall.
Struggle.
Redemption.
Enjoy your privacy.
We’ll come back.
And this time, think equity, neh.
If you’ll still need housekeepers-and you will, then elevate the care-work industry.
These are the people who live inside your homes. They know the stories you would never tell your mother. They keep your confidences. They carry your secrets. They absorb your grief. Many become untrained therapists, carrying the weight of families that are not their own while quietly bearing the vicarious trauma that comes with intimate care work.
For all of that, make the conditions better.
Imagine carrying that emotional labour every day, then returning home to Lesotho only to be shamed because, without proper recognition and legal protections, people simply assume you’re prostituting in Hillbrow.
Give your housekeepers dignity.
Write those laws while they’re away.
People adapt to new systems far more easily than systems adapt to people.
Through a Feminist Political Economy lens, that’s a power move.
You’ll restore dignity to care work.
You’ll restore dignity to your homes.
And when your neighbours come back, they’ll return to a healthier household-one where everyone can finally live together in peace.
Because, after all… neighbours are still family.
Written by Thato Chobokoane from Lesotho
