flickering pictures

It’s only sleeping.

A few days ago, B sent me a link to an excellent article by Stephanie Nolen, a Canadian Globe and Mail reporter who — in my opinion at least — does some of the finest journalism out there, and has for years. She opened the Globe’s South Africa bureau back in 2003, became a vocal advocate in Africa’s death struggle with AIDS, and learned first-hand that falling in love with a place doesn’t prevent you from telling it like it is there.

The Globe recently sent her to set up a new India bureau in New Delhi, but her farewell to Africa is passionate, beautiful, and damn good journalism. Give it a read.

Here’s an excerpt:

I stepped out into the alley, rounded a corner — and came face to face with a mob of about 20 men carrying huge clubs and spears, smashing their weapons into tin walls and screaming out their claim on power. I turned and fled the other way, ran to my car, drove a few blocks, shut the car off again and sat with my hands trembling, feeling horrified, heartsick — and betrayed.

This was the kind of story I covered in other countries — Congo, Sierra Leone, Zimbabwe. Not here. Jo’burg was the place I came home to, the place that kept me hopeful. How could this be happening?

It was a childish response. I bit back my hurt feelings, got out of the car and interviewed people. Over the next few days, I travelled through a dozen more township neighbourhoods, trying to understand the wave of xenophobic violence that erupted first here and then across the nation, leaving 62 dead and displacing at least 40,000 others.

They were almost all refugees and immigrants who, like me, came to this country for the promise it holds. Many came from the same countries that once sheltered and supported the people who fought to set South Africa free.

Thanks, B!
Image via stephanienolen.com.

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