STOP KILLING OUR KIDS

AS I’M writing this, Alistair Izobel’s rendition of My Broetjie my Bra is vibrating through my ear canal and straight into the depths of my soul. 

Love the pace the guitarist next to Alistair brings to the Taliep Petersen and David Kramer classic. 

The song hits deep. Always has. It takes me back to my days as a laaitie. 

As a kid growing up in the late 80s, early 90s, the opening lyrics of this song, ‘He never knew his dada’, pulled me in from the word go. 

See, like many of you out there, I lost my father when I was very young. Five months old to be exact. I never met him. They say I look like him and apparently I have the same sense of humour. 

Other than that, I don’t know much.

That story is not unique though, and I’ve seen in the lives of others what a big negative impact the absence of a father can have on children. 

Anyway, that’s where my parallels with the song stops - after the opening line. 

But for some of you reading this, the song resonates at a deeper level. Maybe ‘your mamma never kissed you, no one ever loved you’, you ran away from home and started a life ‘on the streets’. 

I sympathise with that. 

But my broetjie, MY bra, it’s not too late to change your ways. As long as you’re breathing you still have a chance to change the course of your eternal destiny.

It starts with who you see as role models.  

There is no shame in living a good, honest life without the nuutste Nike tekkies and all the bling. 

I come from a family of hard labourers, whose handewerk can be seen all over. My uncles worked hard for their pay and even though the pay didn’t always match the output, they did it with pride. 

I had an older gentleman helping me in the garden the other day and while we were doing our thing, he told me a lot of stories about my dad and my uncles. 

One of my uncles was a leftie and this guy spoke about how quickly they would finish building stuff, working in tandem, because my uncle started from the left and he from the right. 

Anyway, RESPECT - the kind earned without using fists or weapons. My uncles earned street credit the hard way, through honest, good, work. 

They’ve since passed on, but their legacy still lives on and stands forever in the buildings they built. 

The point I’m trying to make is that your role models could be closer than you think. Don’t look past the honest, hard-workers in your community. 

Appreciate the ones God has placed in your path and rather try to mirror them instead of manne with the nuutste tekkies, fast cars and all the bling. That’s usually a fast-paced, very short life and puts you on a highway to hell. 

Back to my early days living in a block of flats, back then we used to play Aan-Aan, Vrot Eier, Wegkruipertjie, tennis - sommer there in the parking lot - tot laat aand toe. 

Yes, the Station Strangler was on the loose at the time, but at least we felt safe in our little community. Tussen ons mense. 

It was the sort of freedom EVERY child deserves. 

That’s why my heart is bleeding today. 

I think of children like Davin Africa from Wesbank. He was only four years old when he was shot dead IN HIS SLEEP in February. 

With her onskuldige kind killed, Davin’s mom said at the time: “On Monday, it would have been Davin’s 5th birthday and we all prepared for a Spiderman party because that is what he asked for…” 

Haunting words.. 

Esmine Franke from Kraaifontein was 11 years old when her life was cut short. 

In the words of her aunt: “They were sitting outside, and then a boy who is a gangster walked by, and they came after him, and they didn’t hit him at all.”

But “they” shot Esmine… dead. Let that sink in. 

Just last week, three-year-old Qadir Boer from Hanover Park was shot in the head after getting caught in gang crossfire while outside his home.

Two TEENAGERS are suspected of killing the toddler. Three young lives destroyed. 

Then there was 12-year-old Moegamat Faizel Challis from Tafelsig. 

Faizel’s uncle explained that the youngster was caught in gang crossfire, saying: “One of the people in the road passed away, so the family had the 40 nights according to the Islamic beliefs and they handed out party packets to the children. 

“Faizel received his party packet and came back to the house and said to his mother that he wants to take his two younger siblings, aged 7 and 5, to get their party packets as well. 

“His mother said she would take them to get their party packets herself, but Faizel was a very impatient child so he said he would walk ahead.

“The mother said she heard two shots and thought it was firecrackers because they were bursting firecrackers in the community but by the third shot they realised it was a gunshot.” 

A gunshot that took their little boy away from them. 

No man gents!

These are just a few examples of how the lives of our kinders are being stolen by gun violence. 

My broertjie, my bra, if you are one of those firing guns and gave up on life, please rethink your life choices - it’s not too late. You can still live a full life by doing honest work. 

More importantly, please afford the kids in your community the same courtesy to be able to make choices in life. Don’t rob them of it. 

Remember, this life is just a test for our eternal destiny…