Speaking our truths

We discovered a snake during our walk today.

Half of its body was stuffed into a bright yellow plastic bag. Its shiny black helix will never again uncoil and flash through the long grass

My cry of distress is echoed by the wailing of chainsaws. Hundreds of trees are being cut down to make way for the Gautrain. The train will allow people to commute between Joburg and Pretoria, help to alleviate traffic congestion and cut down on fuel emissions. Unfortunately the price tag of R80 makes the “golden train” inaccessible to most South Africans.


Another example of our government wanting to force change, without possibly considering the bigger picture, involves the possible prohibition of parental corporal punishment. Government hopes that the abolishment of parental corporal punishment will curtail child abuse and lessen violence in a society where many believe violence to be the only powerful choice accessible to them.

At first glance their concerns seem valid. A study on South African attitudes towards corporal punishment and child socialisation confirms that the strongest predictor of severe corporal punishment was an attitude supportive of the use of physical punishment.

“Out of a representative sample of 2,497 men and women over 16 years of age from all provinces, population groups and economic backgrounds, 952 parents with children were surveyed specifically on corporal punishment. 57% of parents reported using corporal punishment, most commonly on children aged 3 years, with 33% using severe corporal punishment (beating with a belt or stick), most commonly on 4-year-olds.” (GIEACPC, 2005, p30)

It seems clear to me that there must be better ways to teach our children responsibility than the use of corporal punishment only. Furthermore a vulnerable, defenceless child should also never be exposed to severe punishment techniques. But will abolishing corporal punishment truly decrease violence in society? Will a single solution disperse the complex interplay between socio-economic factors, parental corporal punishment, child abuse and violence?

Does a correlation seems to exist between the Government’s conviction that it can address child abuse by legislating domestic behaviours, and parents’ belief that they can beat correct moral behaviours into their children? Is the problem not maybe that many children are never taught to critically assess their choices and take personal responsibility for their actions?

Unambiguous links between corporal punishment, a child’s long term development, child abuse and the escalation of violence have never been established. In addition little research has been done regarding the effects of poverty, levels of education, social and economic pressures, cultural and religious beliefs, the legacy of apartheid, and the effects of family histories on child abuse and violence in our society. Understanding the complex interplay between various issues and actively engaging with them could well be a more sustainable answer to child abuse and violence than merely abolishing parental corporal punishment.

While watching a program about the violence in our country, I hear a man say: “Somebody should do something.” I find myself asking: “Who is this mysterious somebody?” Maybe that somebody is everybody.

Why wait for rules and laws enabling us to make effortless decisions? What if choice was never meant to be standardised? I have a duty to myself, those I love and those too ignorant to know better, to be courageous. I can talk past the lump in my throat. Why is the fear of being too little or too much, of not being what my parents or their great grandparents want us to be, driving my choices?


I can take responsibility for those things that are within my sphere of influence. I can choose not to use plastics, not to teach my children obedience through fear, not to stand for abuse because I am a woman, not to tolerate racial discrimination actions or thoughts towards others and I can start producing my own vegetables thereby saving the tiny plot of land currently used to grow my food intake elsewhere. I can make a difference to the environment, to those less fortunate than me, to my children and my children’s children.

Every day I can be daring a hundreds of small ways. I can resist the urge to be cruel to someone who hurts me. I can make responsible consumer choices. I can assess each situation with compassion in the millisecond before my conditioned responses kicks in.

I get home feeling sad and guilty because I could not move past my fears in order to stand up for myself and my beliefs. But why am I angry with myself for needing love and approval?

I find a safe space and sink into my fear until I find a child bewildered and crying. She does not know how to handle all the messages coming her way. She was never taught to choose, only to do what is right.

Her need to do the right thing is overwhelming. However, the right choice is concealed by hundreds of conflicting messages; messages from her parents, her experiences, the media, self-help books, religion, her friends, her enemies and the person she wishes she could be.


Together we patiently sift through the building rubble obscuring the truth. Until we find it: A shiny turquoise stone. She holds it in her hand, her eyes are glowing. She presses it against her heart. It grows warm and tickly, she giggles in anticipation. Her eyes grow rounder and rounder, she almost stops breathing.

The stone spreads its wings and starts to sing. Trees are reborn; a small stream starts singing along. A woman steps out from the trees and joins the singing. She folds her cloak around the child who falls asleep warm and happy and dreaming of compassion. Without her cloak the woman is naked but proud. Her eyes are yellow like that of a falcon. She laughs with joy, spreads her wings and flies into the stars.


The child sleeps on, surrounded by trees. Like a snake who does not fear the movement of a stream breaking up the reflection of the moon the child fears neither the snake nor herself.