Squinting through the hype surrounding the new South Africa, I reckon
that the country is in the middle, farcical stages of
authoritarianism. On Freedom Day, Women’s Day, Heritage Day, and
so on, heroes of the revolution pop out of limousines
and luxury
planes to dispense social upliftment through speeches to the
“previously disadvantaged.” After the straggly rallies, the
government media either represent them
as heady fests or
convey scoldings for indifference to the creation of a better
life
for all.

Even most blacks have firmly re-designated every new holiday
Going to the Beach Day, and their decision seems sound. The
absurd evil of apartheid could be summed up in the prohibition of
the majority of South Africans from the abundant and beautiful
beaches; the freedom for all races to play in the sand together
signals the blessings of the post-apartheid era. I began this
article on March 21, Human Rights Day, and I could hear
multilingual yells from children on the beach a few feet from my
study.

But strangely enough, the present regime does not want blacks to
go to the beach either. It wants them to assemble to hear about
the glorious future, though this is a future they are
increasingly skeptical about
—and, again, they do not appear
unreasoning. In spite of being able to go where they want, they
are having trouble getting there, because they are poorer,
sicker, and in more danger than ever before. The sad part of
living near the beach