DoC President Jacob Zuma deliving his address at Minister Collins Chabane's funeral held at Xikundu Village outside Malamulele,Limpopo Province. Pic: Kopano Tlape/DoCIn the aftermath of Collins Chabane’s death, Tinyiko Maluleke asks why there are no signs warning that the N1 is a high accident-risk road.
Johannesburg - Oh, N1 road! Why aren’t your roadside grass, shrubs and trees always lush and evergreen since they are watered regularly with human blood?
With these words I reacted in anguish when I received the news of the tragic death of Minister Collins Chabane, Sergeant Lesiba Sekele and Lawrence Lentsoane.
In his song Stimela, Hugh Masekela sings and talks about a train that comes “from all the hinterland of Southern and Central Africa” carrying “young and old African men” to Joburg.
He might as well have sung about a road that snakes, ascends and descends, zigs and zags from Joburg to Musina, randomly spewing human corpses and body parts, from time to time.
No road dominates the lives of Limpopo residents more. It has been and continues to be the lifeline that connects the province and its people to the country’s economic hub, stimulating economic activity all along its path.
As a youngster in Limpopo, this road shaped my childhood hopes and fears alike.
It was, for me, the legendary yellow brick road that leads to the mysterious Emerald City in the South. But it was also the road that swallowed up my father and uncle for the better part of the year.
On the edge of the Louis Trichardt end of this road, cousins, my siblings and I would wait for Good Friday and Christmas every March and every December.
Christmas and Good Friday arrived in the form of my father and his peers stepping out of the maroon South African Railways bus from Joburg at the Louis Trichardt bus station off the N1.
Watching the bus leave with one’s father after Christmas was a bitter pill.
As the bus started to move, we would start shouting out our wish-list of things we wanted daddy to bring back when he returned – things we never had the courage to say before the bus engine started rumbling.
We would stand watching the bus until it looked like a tiny red ant on a shining black wall.
Once a week, the N1 road would deliver a bus carrying the post for the surrounding villages. We would subsequently congregate to listen to the names of recipients of letters read out aloud by the village postmaster – crossing our fingers that mother or aunt would receive notification of food money sent from Joburg.
While the N1 death toll may not be the highest, we should nevertheless do everything we can to save every life we can on this and other roads.
The following are some of the well-known people I recall who have lost their lives on the N1.
Norman Mashabane, former South African ambassador, who died with his son.
Strike Seoketso, Limpopo Public Works director, who died with his entire nuclear family.
Eckson Malatjie, member of the Limpopo legislature.
Elphas Mavuso, MEC driver.
Pandelani Ramagoma, MEC for Public Works in Limpopo.
Inspector Richard Netshandama, MEC driver.
Lesley Manyathela, Orlando Pirates and Bafana Bafana soccer player.
Mafanele Tlakula, a rising young corporate executive.
Many who frequently use this road will know at least one soul that perished on that road.
The vast majority of those who die on this and other South African roads are the ordinary poor that may never be written about except as part of road fatality statistics.
Of the 1.3 million people who die annually on the roads of the world, South Africa contributes 14 000.
At least 45 South Africans die on our roads daily. Between 2009 and 2012, South Africa donated more than 50 000 souls to the insatiable gods of its roads.
In terms of number of road fatalities per 100 000 citizens, South Africa stood at 31.9 in 2011, smack in the middle of the wretched company of the likes of Nigeria (33.7), Venezuela (37.2), Thailand (38.1), Libya (40.5) and Eritrea (48.4).
The reason we flock to the N1 like flying insects to a burning light is that it promises to cure our deep longing for home – home in Limpopo, home in Gauteng, home in the embrace of a son, daughter, mother or lover waiting at the other end.
Between Joburg and Musina there are no real alternative routes to the tollgate-infested and deadly N1.
Is the N1 therefore a witch? Could we take a cue from the angry words of Linton Kwesi Johnson in his famous poem on England titled Inglan is a Bitch and write our own angry poem cursing the N1?
I don’t think so.
The causes of fatal accidents must be located in a range of issues including: drinking and driving, issues of road design, road terrain, road signage as well as prevalent law-enforcement cultures.
Why are there no signs indicating the preponderance of slow-moving trucks or high-accident zones in places where the vast majority of accidents occur on the N1?
It takes no rocket science to work out why the majority of accidents on the N1 seem to occur between Polokwane and the Kranskop tollgate. There is no island between the North and South lanes on this stretch of road.
Who must die on this road before a separation barrier is installed?
Clearly a big part of the solution requires a change in driver behaviour, in our relationship with our cars, in our need for speed and in our relationship with alcohol.
We must recognise the road as a killer weapon just like the gun and the machete.
Once we do that, we will not be content with the ineffectual speed-trap-based law-enforcement culture.
We will not be content with worn-out, sporadic and expensive “arrive-alive campaign” gimmicks, which are incapable of disrupting entrenched and dangerous driving habits.
If ever the N1 or any other of one of our 720 000 kilometres worth of road in Mzansi takes me home “to die no more”, let it be said, as my coffin is lowered, that the Lord had given but the road has taken.
* Maluleke is a professor at the University of Pretoria. He writes in his personal capacity. Follow him on Twitter @ProfTinyiko
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media
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