The high cost of ‘doing the right thing’

I bumped into Philani* during yet another fruitless visit to a public hospital, where I had accompanied someone who was attempting to obtain follow-up medical treatment after being tortured by police last year. I had not seen Philani since I assisted him access the witness protection programme several years ago. He was not a happy man.

“The government must help me,” Philani said in desperation. “I did my best, I did everything I was supposed to, now my children are starving. They can’t just leave us like this.”

Philani had good reason to be upset. He had been the complainant in an attempted murder case against a notorious warlord and his accomplices. During the attempt on his life, Philani had sustained serious injuries that had left him partially deaf, with permanent tinnitus, dizziness and other disabling physical and psychological conditions.

Philani had been determined to do the right thing and opened a case with the police. The key witness - at great personal risk due to his involvement in another matter for which he was later killed - had also provided a statement. It should have been simple to bring Philani’s would-be killers to book. But no one factored in the obstructive role of the state, which, increasingly, through its discriminatory, anti-poor bureaucracy, corruption and utter dysfunction, pushes poor people who wish to do the right thing, to the very margins of survival.

Philani had been one of the few who had had a regular job and, even though poorly paid, he could most months at least, still feed his large family. One of the responsibilities of the witness protection programme is to provide material support for the witness and their family equal to the standard of living experienced prior to their admission into the programme. Employers are also not permitted to dismiss programme participants, although some still do. Philani had enjoyed a good relationship with his boss and was assured his job would be waiting for his return.

So far so good, that is, until the case went to court. Although Legal Aid generally assigns inexperienced candidate attorneys to defend Schedule Five and Six offenders, inexplicably this time, they had secured the pro bono services of a private criminal lawyer to represent the notorious warlord. What strings were pulled behind the scenes we will never know, but as anticipated, the warlord was immediately acquitted. As is generally the case with those who must rely on Legal Aid services, the warlord’s accomplices were represented by a standard-issue, candidate attorney. When the matter finally went to trial, a couple of years after Philani’s attack, the accomplices were also acquitted.

According to Philani, who still bears horrific scars, the case had failed on a technicality. The district surgeon who had completed the medical report when Philani was first taken to hospital had failed to record that he had been “shot using a gun.” This meant that charges against Philani’s attackers were duly downgraded from attempted murder. Other minor details had also been botched – by design or lack of diligent detective work, again, we will never know – but it had been enough to allow the accused to go free.

While in witness protection, Philani had been able to send home his state ‘salary’. Now he would have to return to normal life living in close proximity to his attackers, who, naturally, remained none too pleased at the inconvenience to which he had put them. Plus the original motive for his attack remained – his name had not been crossed off their hit list. Within days he was warned that hit men had visited his employer’s premises asking about his whereabouts. Members of his family also received threats. It was clear that if Philani returned to the job his employer had kept for him, he would very likely be killed.

Philani tried to discuss the problem with his boss. Unfortunately, his employer had swallowed recent ‘sunshine’ coverage of police ‘successes’ and government ‘peace negotiations’ at the hostel where Philani was resident, and was convinced the danger was now over and his fears unfounded. Philani was beside himself – forced to choose between a quick bullet and slow starvation for his family in the likely event the hit men succeeded; or slow starvation for all of them because jobs are now almost impossible to find. Although a peace initiative had indeed begun at the hostel, the process will be long and given the spectacular failure of similar measures previously, it remains to be seen whether the politicians’ ‘peace’ will in any case extend beyond local elections, only two months away.    

Philani chose the slightly lesser of the two evils and ended his employment. He returned to his rural home where, he told me, his family of thirteen is now solely reliant on his mother’s state pension of R1640 – or around R4 per person per day, not even enough to buy each child half a loaf of bread.

But the injustice did not end there.

The injuries Philani had sustained need constant medical attention forcing him to make regular visits, sometimes several times a month, to a public health facility hundreds of kilometres from his rural home. To receive this treatment for free, he had to prove he is now unemployed or pay R65 per visit.

I asked Philani how one could prove one was unemployed. Apparently sworn statements attesting to one’s poverty had been previously accepted. This Philani had dutifully provided, which hospital administration had then promptly lost. He told me that during a previous visit he had learned the system had since been changed and he was required to visit the Department of Labour to collect a form which had to be taken to his previous employer for completion. This must then be returned to the Department of Labour for them to issue a letter verifying his unemployed status, which in turn, must then be submitted to the hospital in order for him to receive free treatment. Queues, delays, absentee staff and the usual institutional malaise of confusion, disorder and misinformation had forced Philani to make three attempts to complete this process, and cost him a substantial amount in transport. It is inconceivable, although not limited to the public health system, that poor people are regularly forced to outlay large sums of money they do not have, in order to prove their poverty.

As I had noticed Philani was holding a receipt for R65 I asked what had gone wrong with this excellent system. Sadly he shook his head. His employer, he said, had refused to sign the Department of Labour’s form.

“There is peace at Glebelands,” his employer had told him happily. “I saw all the police on TV. It’s safe now. Your job is waiting for you. You must come back. I can’t sign this form because I didn’t fire or retrench you – you left, that means you resigned, therefore I cannot sign this form.”

Like Philani, his former employer had, presumably, also been trying to ‘do the right thing’ by complying to the letter with government institutional requirements. Given the circumstances, however, the ‘right thing’ here had ‘wronged’ Philani further, and many white, affluent employers’ continued ignorance and apathy towards their workers’ daily struggle for survival is inexcusable.     

I did not ask Philani whether he regretted his decision to ‘do the right thing’ – the bitterness and worry was clearly etched on his face and anger burned bright beneath the tears in his eyes. At Glebelands police have had much criticism for “poor cooperation from the community” hampering their investigations. Well-paid commissioners would do well to walk a mile or ten in Philani’s worn out sneakers before next blaming the community for their failure to resolve a problem to which they have been major contributors.  

It remains to be seen how long Philani will be able to afford to access the public health system – for what the deeply dysfunctional system is worth anyway. Hospital charges and transport cost R600 minimum, provided he spends nothing on food or drink during the three days each trip takes. Even if Philani visits the hospital only once a month, when these costs are deducted from his mother’s pension, family members will be left to survive on less than R2 per day. Again, Philani has been served an impossible choice by the state – his health, or his kids’ lives.

During the government’s launch of Youth Month 2016, themed “Youth Moving South Africa Forward,” Minister Jeff Radebe invoked struggle icon, Moses Kotane’s call: “At this hour of destiny, your country and your people need you. The future of South Africa is in your hands and it will be what you make of it.”

June 16 will mark 40 years since Sowetan youth rebelled against Afrikaans as the medium of instruction in schools. Around 175 young people sacrificed their lives for freedom from their apartheid oppressors – they clearly believed they had been doing ‘the right thing’.

Philani was of that 1976 generation although very young at the time. He took the stand that he did, because he believed he was doing ‘the right thing’ for his community, his family and the government he had helped put in parliament. Tragically, today the state has reneged on their side of the bargain and failed to ‘do the right thing’ for Philani. His children now have little hope of a future, let alone one of their own making. It is unlikely they will be able to respond to Radebe’s cry to the youth to “Move South Africa Forward.”

In his address, Radebe also quoted the words of MK leader Solomon Mahlangu, who, after being sentenced to death, declared on his way to the gallows, “Tell my people that I love them and that they must continue the fight, my blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom, aluta continua!”

Mahlangu paid the ultimate price for doing what he believed was ‘the right thing’ and is now revered as one of our country’s heroes. Everyone who makes some form of personal sacrifice to do ‘the right thing,’ is, in his or her own right, a hero, and these heroic acts, however small and seemingly inconsequential, should be encouraged and not lead to untold further suffering. Such are the acts needed to “Move South Africa Forward.”    

However at a time when our leaders act a lot more like Mobutu than Mahlangu, the distressing consequences of Philani’s moral fibre raise the question: how much more heroes’ blood is needed by our country and its successive regimes before the fruits of real freedom are borne? When will ordinary people such as Philani enjoy freedom of conscience to ‘do the right thing’ without fear of reprisal, discrimination, deprivation, or falling victim to the increasingly broken systems forced on the people by a greedy vampire state?

It is clear we must still heed Solomon Mahlangu’s call, albeit now from the grave – “aluta continua!”    

[*Philani is not his real name. Details have been changed to protect his identity as he remains under threat of assassination. The man I had accompanied who had been tortured by police, was refused medical attention after waiting five hours to see a doctor.]

* Vanessa Burger is an independent community activist for human rights and social justice in South Africa. Cell: 082 847 7766 / Email: [email protected]

* THE VIEWS OF THE ABOVE ARTICLE ARE THOSE OF THE AUTHOR AND DO NOT NECESSARILY REFLECT THE VIEWS OF THE PAMBAZUKA NEWS EDITORIAL TEAM

* BROUGHT TO YOU BY PAMBAZUKA NEWS

* Please do not take Pambazuka for granted! Become a Friend of Pambazuka and make a donation NOW to help keep Pambazuka FREE and INDEPENDENT!

* Please send comments to [email=[email protected]]editor[at]pambazuka[dot]org[/email] or comment online at Pambazuka News.