By Tshediso Mangope
I was chatting with a friend, more like a Grootman I deeply respect, from the Eastern Cape, over a glass of something, when it suddenly dawned on me that there is something profoundly unsettling about the way we speak about our province.
In the middle of our conversation, he paused and said, “Ngwana mobu, why do you people in the Free State speak about yourselves like you are some colossal failure?”
I laughed. But it was not a comfortable laugh.
Because he was right.
We seem to have developed a strange culture of self-sabotage in this province. We wake up in the morning and even before we greet the sun, we have already told the whole nation that we are useless. That we are corrupt. That we are incompetent. That nothing good ever comes out of here except corruption, mismanagement and division. We have normalised speaking badly about ourselves.
Recently, President Cyril Ramaphosa, in his reply to the State of the Nation Address debates, went out of his way to commend this province. He spoke about how the Free State is leading in taking integrated government services directly to the people. He said it publicly and even urged other provinces to learn from what is being done here.
But did you see it trending? Did you see it leading WhatsApp headlines? NO
Because that story does not feed our addiction to outrage. We prefer the headline that screams: “So-and-so did this!” or “Scandal erupts!” We dissect failure with the sheer enthusiasm of Sunday chisa nyama gossipmongers.
When something goes wrong, we magnify it until it looks like the collapse of Mount Everest. When something goes right, we treat it like a suspicious accident.
This is not to say we must hide wrongdoing. No. Accountability is oxygen for any democracy. But there is a difference between accountability and self-hate. There is a difference between constructive criticism and public self-mutilation.
If you constantly tell investors, tourists and even your own children that your home is a hopeless place, do not act surprised when they pack their bags and leave.
Imagine inviting guests into your house and before they sit down you announce: “Just so you know, this place is a mess. The roof might fall. The food is probably terrible.” Even if the roof is solid and the food tastes good, they will eat nervously.
That is what we are doing as a province.
We are the only people who can turn a compliment from the President into loud silence but turn a beerhall gossip into a public holiday. And so, my grootman concludes with something profound between sips: “You people want to be taken seriously, but generally you do not take yourselves seriously.”
And it struck me.
You cannot build a province with a defeated psychology. You cannot mobilise society if your dominant narrative is that you are doomed.
The Free State is not perfect. No province is. Not even the ones that pretend to have better resources and governance. But there is work being done. There are clinics operating. Roads being repaired. Schools functioning. Integrated services reaching rural communities that, for decades, were forgotten.
Yet our loudest megaphone is reserved for scandal.
We enjoy dragging ourselves in public and then wondering why nobody invites us to a serious table of equals. A province is also a story. And the story we tell about ourselves shapes how others see us. More importantly, it ends up shaping how we see ourselves.
We must correct what is wrong, yes. But we must also celebrate what is working. We must develop the political maturity to hold two truths at once; that we have challenges and that we are making progress. Otherwise, we will be doomed as a province.
And people will continue to laugh at us not because they are undermining us, but because they cannot respect people who always insist on diminishing themselves.
Perhaps it is time we change the story.
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Tshediso Mangope moonlights as a social commentator in his spare time and writes in his personal capacity…
The views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of this publication (Journal News).
