Dreams that only freedom can buy!

I was born in 1978, 19 months and 8 days since the June 16, 1976 uprising. This means I grew up in the 80’s, at the height of the state of emergency, suppression and brutality. To highlight this, let me recount a few episodes…?

I was 5 years old when my parents separated and my mother took me to live?in a neighbourhood not too far off from our flats in Clermont, Durban. One night as we were sleeping, a group of thugs came to the property blaming our hosts of being izimpimpi (snitches) and they burnt the house down, me, my mother and our hosts inside. I remember the flames, I remember the voices of the people chanting outside, the sounds of breaking glass, some because of the heat but most because of the bricks that were flying through the windows. The funny thing about this episode is that, I’m 43 now and I remember it like it was yesterday. The rescue by the fire fighters and us sitting outside watching the house burn to dust, replay in my mind like I’m playing an episode of your favorite soapie from DSTV’s Catch up service. In reality, neither me, my mother nor our hosts were izimpimpi. We had been caught up in a mob like, populist propaganda campaign, and we were about to be victims of a smear campaign, If I may say this was 1983.?

Fast forward a bit. By the end of the same year, my mother had moved me to live with my grandmother in Mpumalanga, Waterval Boven. She couldn’t have chosen a more racist town to send me to. Let me explain. A 5 year old, growing up in Durban between 1980 and 1990, didn’t know extreme racism. I went to a multiracial pre-school, then started my schooling eMaromeni (Roman Catholic school) which was also intended to be multi racial. Natal, as it was at the time, was far ahead of the Boere run provinces of Transvaal and Vrystaat (Orange Free State) in terms of racial integration. But with all of the progress in Natal, our exposure as black people was still limited to so called black people things. Soccer, athletics, medicine, accounting, teaching and a host of other ordinary jobs or sports. Truly speaking very few of us knew about the fancy stuff like designing rockets that can take people to space or, playing golf.?

In 1989, we moved from Joburg to Pretoria and In 1991, 9 of us black kids got accepted into the so called white schools in Pretoria. Our high school, which was a white rugby school, I guess accepted us with some reluctance, and the racial divisions would soon be realised. Let me tell you. White kids used to get initiated?and I think the white prefects were either scared of us, or just didn’t know what the hell to do with these black kids. So we got away with it, no bullying initiation rituals for us. But in standard 8 (grade 10), we went to veld school. This was 93, and I cannot forget this episode. The nationalists had put the freedom of black people to a referendum vote. White People had the power to decide whether we could dream big or not, forget the politics. They had the power to decide our basic freedoms. The leader of the Conservative Party died the same year and the hope for better days rose amongst all South Africans. At Veld School, we were asked to sing the national anthem, Die Stem in honor of the not so honourable president of the Conservative Party at that time. Of course us black kids refused and this was perhaps the biggest form of resistance that us 90’s teens staged at the time. It was a big win because the singing of Die Stem was suspended for the remainder of the camp and subsequently our schooling lives .?

The referendum was settled a few weeks later and white people had decided they like us enough to allow for an integrated South Africa. A South Africa where everyone can dream big, white or black. The difference of course is that white people were dreaming 100 years in advance, we were barely starting to understand the power of dreams. We didn’t even know the different type of dreams we could have. But we had to dream non-the-less.?

So this is the reason why golf is important to me. I discovered the sport when I was about 35 years old. My son, Amandlesizwe used to come with me to the World of Golf and watch me practice this thing, until one day when he was about 8 years old, he decided he wanted to try it out. So compare for a minute his exposure at 8 years old and mine. At 8 years old I lived in Waterval Boven, a small boere rail town, where your views, dreams and your ambitions were systematically suppressed to ensure a continued supply of cheap Labour for Spoornet or if you were lucky, the clinics or the schools. What dreams would or could be nurtured under such conditions? My son though has it different. He is living in the new South Africa. A land of dreams and opportunity, this in-spite of the corruption and government negligence. He can dream about being a pro golfer. My son has a PGA accredited kids coach, he is a member at a country club, and plays on SA Golf Kids Tour with white, black and all other races of kid golfers his age. He is not blocked from entering any golf club to play his favorite sport. So forgive me for making my son’s little 10 year old achievements a political statement. Some may even suggest that I may be living vicariously through my son. I can assure you I am not. I am Just happy for his ability to dream bigger, but I must make him understand the importance of his dreams, the crucial nature of his ability and freedom to dream that big!?

I have had a conversation with my boy to understand his vision for his golf. He has a vision board which him and his mother (my wife) work on annually. Every year, the first thing that goes on that board is a golfer wearing a green masters champion blazer. He says to me, “Dad, I’m going to win the masters one day”. Whether he wins it or not is not material. The point is, he can dream that far. Recently he started writing and reciting his life purpose statement. The little man wants to turn pro golfer by the time he is 21. Who am I to block that? He reads books like “The Golfer and the Millionaire” by Mark Fisher (which his grandmother gave him as a gift), Trevor Noaha's "Born a crime" and Covey’s “7 Habits of highly effective teenagers” over and above his fun Roald Dahl collection and his endless Zulu literature titles. This is how he feeds his dream he says, and also how he stays grounded. Again it’s not my dream so I cannot define the attainment of the dream or the failure of it. I can only support what my son dreams of and hope for the best. Let me emphasize, it matters not if he achieves the goal, what matters is his ability to dream that big. My role is to provide an environment that allows him to dream that big and work towards the attainment of those dreams. The beauty is, the world is his oyster, he doesn’t even have to be in South Africa to achieve this. His world at 8 is way, way bigger than mine could ever have been at the same age in 1986.?

So this is why golf is so important to me. In the greater scheme of things, to me at least, golf represents a proper escape for us as black people. One of my best friends has a nephew who plays golf, he is my son’s age. My hope is that they grow up together in golf and dominate the game, because every time I watch golf on TV, there are no black golfers, from South Africa at least. So we have a lot to dream about. The success of black golfers in the professional ranks means a success of the black middle class or the black dreaming class. This is why golf is so important to us as part of our mental liberation struggle. We have to show the world that we are good if not better than anyone else and be proud of our brown skin while doing it. Some of you might be reading this and thinking, what about Tiger Woods? Well Tiger alienated himself from black people. What we need is a proud breed black man or woman to show the world we are good if not better at this. We have done it in soccer, basketball, baseball, cricket, formula 1, tennis, boxing, athletics and a host of other sports. We are yet to do it in golf and I pray that my son and his colleagues and friends, be the channel by which we as Africans can show the world just how good we are. The channel to show off our greatness in spite of the odds stacked against us. This is why golf is important to us! This is why golf matters! It’s not just about the fun and enjoyment of the sport. For these black kids growing up in the sport, it’s about making a very, very loud statement…

WE ARE DREAMERS, AND WE DON’T DREAM IN VAIN. WE DREAM IN COLOUR!?