Freedom of Speech

Growing up as a child, I was painfully shy with an awful stutter and speech impediment. I could barely complete a sentence without feeling like someone’s wrapping my voice box shut with sellotape. Every word I managed to utter felt like a small victory in a battle, and with each passing breath, getting my point across was the eventual war that I conquered. Am I being dramatic? Perhaps.?

Up until I was 5 years old, I went to a preschool ekasi, the hood. Nothing weird here, for a family on the brink of securing the coveted title of “middle class” This was 1994/1995 and South Africa was recovering from an Apartheid babalas of sorts. At the time, fees at the creche, which was essentially a Roman Catholic Church on Sundays and a preschool during the week, were R50 a month. My mom, who was a young teacher, somehow managed to take me to Beracah, a Jewish preschool that cost R200 a month. Hefty numbers, but it was worth it.?

What was predominantly a white establishment in ‘93 turned into a majority black crèche by ‘95 lol - a sign of the times and an inherent microcosm of South Africa, our land. Anyway, this amazing preschool integrated kids with early childhood development challenges with “ordinary” kids and I had special speech therapy sessions to help me breathe and control my speech, so I could make out words without stuttering.?

By the time I was going to grade 1, right through to Highschool, I was comfortably one of the best students in Writing, Reading, and Comprehension of English lol.

You see, The ANC, along with the likes of the PAC’s Robert Sobukwe and many others, gave us a voice when the oppressor silenced us.

Much like my struggles to overcome my speech impediment - the ANC helped our parents have a voice. The ANC was the proverbial speech therapy we so desperately needed. But when all is said and done, it’s hard to move on from liberation to fully thriving as a nation.

An institution that enabled my parents to access the facilities and education to give me a fair chance in society is no longer a voice of the voiceless. I’m gasping for air again, fighting to have a say. I’m voiceless again. Stuttering again. It’s giving Jordan Sparks and Chris Brown in “No Air”

I have faith in the Movement, but ironically, the leadership doesn’t move me. It’s painfully poetic how we’re not going anywhere as a result.