Back in the ’90s, when I had just turned 21, I went on a media course at the Poynter Institute in Florida, USA, sent by the Institute for the Advancement of Journalism. It was my first travelling outside the country and remains a historic and unforgettable experience. In my first few days in the country the management of the institution decided to take me and other guests from Denmark to a pub/restaurant for a night of fun to welcome us. But when we arrived at the venue everyone else was allowed in but me, being the youngest of the group.
The security insisted I produce my ID or passport, so they could verify that I was over 18. I did not have it with me and tried to explain I was in fact 21. They stood their ground until someone drove me back to the hotel to fetch the passport and I was then allowed to go in and enjoy myself.
This, in fact, is the only time in my life I have ever been required to produce an ID before entering an establishment that sells liquor. In South Africa we just never do it, despite there being laws that stipulate alcohol can be sold only to people over age 18. The experience was a shock to me, because never before had I been asked to prove my age despite having tasted alcohol from around the age of 17. I am obviously writing this because of the tragedy of losing 21 kids at a tavern outside East London on 25 June when they all mysteriously collapsed and died at the tavern.
Like many people I was shocked there were 13- and 14-year-olds at the tavern. Who had allowed them in, and why? Also, what were 14-year-old kids doing at a tavern at 02:00, when the deaths occurred? Some commentators have said we should not feign surprise and condemn because we also started drinking when we were young. And yes, I do remember going on a high-school excursion and some guys drinking at the back of the bus. But my memory tells me those were usually older guys who were not even supposed to be at school, being 21 or 22 years old.
And even when I started tasting alcohol for the first time it was all hidden and away from the public eye, being part of naughty teen adventures. I still cannot get around the idea that a whole community of kids in the area, boys and girls, prepared the whole day that Saturday, that in the evening they would put on their best clothes and go and spend the night at the Enyobeni tavern.
For me this is yet another pandemic. Our attention and emotion may all be absorbed by the power blackouts, courtesy of Eskom, but these deaths remind us there is more that is rotten in our society. The other obvious question that has been asked is, where were the parents? What parent or guardian allows their child to leave their house at night for a night of drinking?
I know I wouldn’t, but cannot vouch that I have not been dribbled by my children sometimes. But the problem with that Enyobeni tavern if you visit its Facebook page, is that you can see it is a regular joint for 14-year-olds. They are customers at the place. They did not sneak in. They came in through the front door, allowed by the bouncers.
We clearly have over time lost the social cohesion that insisted on minimum standards of behaviour for all of us. Perhaps we are unable to rein in our kids because of our own embarrassing behaviour that make the kids lose respect for us and our authority. And what about the police who are supposed to enforce compliance with the laws such as age restrictions?
Have they simply given up on this because they have more pressing criminal issues to deal with? Or, are they on the payroll of these shebeen owners? I honestly don’t know what the answers are.
But one thing is certain; as a society we have dropped the ball. There was a time not long after 1994 when we had a government initiative called Moral Regeneration. It was aimed at looking at issues of social cohesion and being morally conscious of our actions as we go about our business every day.
We complain bitterly about the government and politicians that rule over lives, but it appears as a whole society we are part of the problem of creating these kids and these politicians.
. Rapula Tabane is political editor of City Press, a sister publication of Paarl Post.
