Last week we entertained Ruffy (aka Raphael van Wyk), and he entertained us.
I confess that I gave you only half of what he said. Not because you are half-wits. If anyone is half-witty, it is I: fifty percent of my jokes are funny, and the other seventy-five percent are quite hopeless.
In the spirit of the times, I’d like to blame my parents for my poor sense of humour, but I can’t. Faced with a set of Wandaful puns, a penchant of mine even then, my mother would glare at me and then threaten condign punishment.
Typically, her fulminations had little effect. Exasperated, she would solicit the help of my father and ask him to “do something”. Invariably he declined. He preferred to punish me for less egregious offences. Like what? Like checking him skeef whenever he passed wind or using the occasion to call him an old fart. I feared him enough that I would pretend to be surreptitious. He soon rumbled me. “How can you,” he would shout, “insult me behind my back right in front of my face!”
Mine, you will see, was a conventional upbringing. In common with my friends, I wasn’t raised but, as I used to say, brang up. Rough and tough it was. I wish I had known about the SPCC then.
But where was I? Ah, I now remember: I gave you only half of what Ruffy had to say. This was no mistake. What he said was so wise, I wanted you to savour it serially. I suppose this makes me a serial offender, but I don’t think this is bad enough to go against the grain.
Noah, who had been uncommonly quiet, scratched around and discovered his voice. “You say Orania, as a private project, should be left to its own racial devices.” I think he said this, though “vices” may have been the word he used. “I think you take the same view of the offspring it spawns, which now pop up countrywide. With varying degrees of success, I might add.”
“Correct,” says Ruffy. “But I did add a rider; the segregation they espouse has the potential to undermine the integrity of the nation state, which then has the right to step in and regulate.”
“Divisive mischief”
“This point is reached, as I understood you, when the divisive mischief becomes a threat real enough to cause palpable concern,” says Noah. I thought he had been silent through somnolence, but plainly not. Like the good lad that he is, he had actually been listening intently.
“When we asked where to draw the line, you said we would have to leave this to the collective of our leaders. In making the decision, you said, they would have to show the wisdom of statesmen. I thought this very unhelpful.”
“Did you?” Ruffy remarks.
“Yes, I am afraid I did. I say this with respect, of course.”
‘With respect’ is lawyer talk for ‘you’re speaking nonsense’. It is a way of being rude while pretending to be polite. Insulting enough, it is not as bad as ‘with great respect’, ‘with the greatest respect’ or ‘with the utmost respect’.
These degrees of comparison are taught in law school in the way that schoolchildren learn ‘good, better, best’. I have learnt them from Noah, but prefer not to use them. I am no hypocrite. If I want to be rude, I don’t mince my words.
“But leave that aside,” Noah proceeds. “Do the same principles hold for institutions that, if not racially exclusive, propound racially exclusive goals?”
“Yes,” Ruffy replies.
“Black or white?” Stupidly, I think Noah is referring to the whisky. I think I must be tiring, but neither of the other two are. Good for them.
“Yes, the nature of the race is of no concern. Take, as an example, the Black Lawyers’ Association. It was founded in the seventies to promote the interests of black lawyers, who certainly struggled under apartheid.
“All races”
“It survives, its light undimmed, to this day. As a matter of form, it is now open to members of all races – for fear, I suspect, that it would otherwise transgress the Constitution. I think the fear is groundless, but who cares. The point is that white lawyers can participate in its activities every bit as eagerly as blacks.”
“Do the white members become akin to turkeys who vote for Christmas?” I ask, a bit speciously.
“No, they are travellers on the Transformation Train, who either believe in the cause or covet the destination. They can be both, no doubt, but either way, they have to be people of doughty resolve.
“Not every lawyer can sit through interminable debates about the unfair treatment being meted out to our learned black friends. What patience lawyers have is mostly deployed in hearing out their opponents without sighing, rolling their eyes, slapping the table, raising their hands to heaven, or groaning sotto voce. Good lawyers demonstrate a heavy silence, which is generally a mark of respect, or great respect, or even the greatest respect.”
“What about a White Lawyers’ Association? Surely we can’t treat a White Lawyers’ Association in the same way?” I cry out.
“Why not?” says Ruffy. “What’s sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander. Or should that be turkey cock and hen?
“How should we think, then?” I ask rather desperately.
“Ordinary person”
“Begin with the individual. If conduct is not illegal for the ordinary person, it should not be illegal for people in conjunction nor even people in formal association.” So says Ruffy.
“Makes sense to me,” I say. I like sense. Rands too.
After we have said goodbye to Ruffy, I turn to Noah. “Would you join a White Lawyers’ Association?” I ask.
“You must be mad. I wouldn’t join the black one either. If I am to be a loser, I would prefer to be so quietly.”
Said, no doubt, with the greatest respect.
The views of the writer are not necessarily the views of the Daily Friend or the IRR.
If you like what you have just read, support the Daily Friend