South Africa is doomed, say the pessimists, and Jacob Zuma will lead it down the road travelled by Zimbabwe. But it is not as simple as that, writes JOE HUMPHREYS. As he ends his two-year stint there, he reflects on the progress the country has made in the 14 years since the end of apartheid
IF I HAD a rand for every South African who told me, in recent weeks, that I was "lucky to be getting out" of their country, I would be well on my way to buying the retirement home I am dreaming of in Western Cape.
Admittedly, those who expressed this view to me were not entirely representative of the country's people (all were white). But their pessimism was illustrative of an opinion within broad sections of the population that South Africa - a country which promised so much when it held its first fully democratic elections 14 years ago - is now on a downward curve. And that fear has grown tangibly in the two years I have lived there.
As my period of residence formally came to an end this month, even the cheery mechanic at my local garage asked me: "What are the chances of getting an Irish passport?" It is a sad state of affairs, for there is much to love about South Africa. The people possess a rare warmth, a sense of dynamism, and, by and large, a real humanity. The country's history and diversity make it a fascinating place in which to be.
As well as heightening your senses, South Africa has an ability to erode your prejudices - and not necessarily in a predictable way.
Many a liberal has turned staunchly conservative when confronted with some of the problems of the Rainbow Nation. ("What is the difference between a tourist and a racist? About a fortnight," runs a popular joke among right-wingers.) In my experience, however, the effect of living in this fraught and deeply damaged society is more disorientating than opinion-forming.
There is not much you can legitimately say about South Africa without introducing qualifiers - here, you will meet people who confound categorisation: from racist black "intellectuals" to extraordinarily tolerant, and open-minded, Afrikaner volk (those descendants of South Africa's original Dutch settlers).
ON A PURELY personal level, South Africa provides a wonderful quality of life. You have the weather, the atmosphere, and, wow, does your euro go far. The cost of putting my daughter through Montessori for a month (roughly €100) was about the equivalent of a ladies' "cut and colour" in a Dublin hair salon.
But therein lies part of the reason why South Africa is unstable. Costs are low because wages are low, by Irish standards, and unemployment is high (the latter is estimated at up to 40 per cent of the workforce). Among both middle- and high-income countries, South Africa is the most unequal in the world.
Throw in the racial issue (95 per cent of South Africa's poor are black), and it all makes for an uncomfortable and somewhat surreal personal existence, with certain questions constantly on your mind. How much should I pay my domestic worker? (Yes, I had one.) Why am I too scared to give a stranger a lift? Have I too many white and not enough black friends? There are no easy answers, and it makes as simple a thing as organising a dinner party an ethical minefield.
Then, there is the crime. A few weeks after I arrived in the country, I was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of gunfire two doors' away from where I was staying in Pretoria. Last January, the father of one of my daughter's classmates was held up in his home and shot dead in front of his wife and children.
According to government figures, the incidence of crime dropped by 6.5 per cent last year, but the rate was still well in excess of international norms.
South Africa is home to 15 murders a day, and gender-equality activists estimate that a woman is raped in the country every 14 minutes.
"We need to understand why South Africa is more violent than anywhere else," says Sherry McLean, an Irish development worker who was attacked by gunmen at her home in Johannesburg last year. "Is it because family structures are breaking down?" she asks, and - in the same breath - lists a number of other possible factors, including poverty, the legacy of apartheid-era oppression, and problems with the police force.
McLean, originally from Cork, was heavily involved in the anti-apartheid movement in Ireland. Her late husband, Marius Schoon, an Afrikaaner and member of the African National Congress (ANC), was imprisoned, exiled and persecuted for his beliefs. But such factors were irrelevant to her attackers, who tied her up and struck her across the face in one of two aggravated burglaries at her house in the space of a few weeks.
The incidents forced her to move out of the almost entirely black neighbourhood where she had been living for more than a decade. Like the countless South Africans who have retreated into gated communities, and behind high, guarded walls, she has relocated to a secure apartment block in another part of the city. "Personally, [ the experience of crime] has created a mistrust of human beings that I did not have before - and I resent that," she says.
There are also smaller annoyances in South Africa, among them the bureaucracy, the poor tradition of customer service, and the somewhat erratic driving on the roads (erratic but not necessarily aggressive - at least compared to motoring habits in Ireland).
Disruptive power cuts are a regular occurrence and becoming more frequent, as South Africa grapples with a serious energy crisis in the run-up to its hosting of the 2010 Fifa World Cup.
And yet, at times, you marvel at the fact that the place operates at all, given the state of the country in the early 1990s after decades of corrupt rule. In fact, when you consider how the former, white-only government tried to break the spirit of the black population, today's relative political stability and economic growth, not to mention the emergence of a growing black middle-class, seem like minor miracles.
Sure, South Africa has failed to live up to the expectations people had of it when it emerged from the darkness of apartheid. But, then, perhaps expectations were too high.
In the popular narrative, the "new" South Africa became embodied in the personality of Nelson Mandela, a saintly father-figure who turns 90 in July.
BUT SOUTH AFRICANS, Mandela included, are only human - and, as such, they feel pain, experience joy and react to setbacks in their lives in similar ways to the rest of us. They are also capable of letting themselves down by putting in power a shamelessly populist leader.
That Jacob Zuma has become president of the ruling ANC party - a post that makes him a shoo-in for the country's presidency - is not proof, as some would have it, that there is only "one good native" in Africa. There are many excellent people in the ANC - deputy-president Kgalema Motlanthe and former chief strategist Joel Netshitenze are but two impressive party members.
Zuma's election does, however, illustrate how far standards have fallen in the ANC. The man is badly tainted by allegations of corruption and lechery, and would almost certainly prove to be an inept and divisive South African president. Having said that, one should not engage in caricature, nor associate all of South Africa's social problems with its political upheavals.
One thing about working in Africa is you realise how patriarchal, Eurocentric and occasionally racist the international media can be when it comes to commenting on African governance. For example, after Zuma was elected leader of the ANC last December, in a free and open ballot, the British Daily Mail ran an extraordinarily derogatory piece about what it called the "Zulu warrior". It reported, among other things, that, during his trial for rape, a case which was dismissed, Zuma "spoke the language of the totsis, the notorious township gangs, who cruise the streets of the 'new' South Africa while out 'jack-rolling' - a pastime that involves gangs of young men, usually armed and high on drugs, roaming the streets to find victims to gang rape".
In fact, Zuma spoke in isiZulu - South Africa's most common language and the same language spoken by those South Africans who fought and defeated the British at Isandlwana in 1879 (which is surely equally as relevant).
Sections of the Irish media sometimes sink to similar levels of distortion in their coverage of "African" affairs, commentary on the Niall Mellon Township Trust (NMTT) being a case in point. The charity, with its Cape Town-based volunteer programme, is highly commendable. But, unintentionally perhaps, an impression has been created around it that if it were not for groups of migratory Irish, there would be no houses built for South Africa's poor.
The NMTT built an estimated 5,000 homes last year. Of these, 203 were constructed by volunteers - the rest were built by the charity's South African employees. This compares to the 1.6 million homes built by the ANC government in its first decade in power.
It is a small point, but one that is worth underlining, as there is a misperception in Ireland, and indeed across the western world, that development work in Africa is done predominantly by outsiders. In fact, local people are the main instigators and implementers of almost every successful health, education, housing, and other such programme, whether it is funded by foreign donors, or domestically.
A further misperception is that Africa is some kind of monolithic entity.
In fact, comparing the likes of South Africa to Zimbabwe, as some insist on doing, is like comparing Ireland - with its creaking health-service and crowded classrooms - to the coolly efficient, left-leaning Denmark.
ONE PARTING SHOT: a nation that jails a politically well-connected businessman for 15 years for corruption - in the case of Zuma-aide Schabir Shaik - cannot be that lawless. And a country that rolls out the world's largest Aids treatment programme - admittedly, after some years of foot-dragging and denial - cannot be that hopeless.
Yes, South Africa has its problems. But anyone who believes that such difficulties prove that Africans are incapable of governing themselves deserves a slap on the head with a heavy object.
Any of the published, or pending, tribunal reports will do nicely.