Moment of victory was sadly tarnished

She protested silently, a statue in black heels and wooden wings. The first student on the scene for the removal of the Cecil John Rhodes statue from the University of Cape Town’s upper campus.

Through performance art, she captured more attention than the crane and metal man sitting behind her.

As the students began to trickle onto the steps, the cameras and drones hovering over the burgeoning crowd had already begun capturing a moment in history.

I stood behind Rhodes, who had been roped up and fenced off since the morning, watching my generation sing the struggle songs my father had taught me, looking at my friends sitting just below me on the steps.

There were no racial boundaries as we screamed “Amandla!” The atmosphere buzzed as we awaited five o’clock, Rhode’s official departure time.

I was disappointed to see some political parties trying to use the event for their brand gain. Instead of being engaging, yet graceful supporters of a movement that began with UCT students, they tried to twist the day into a rally, pointing to a black banner, shouting: “Africa for Africans!” The implication seemed that only black South Africans could be a part of this country. Yet this crowd of Africans was more diverse than a box of Smarties.

As luck would have it, I found myself squeezed up next to UCT vice-chancellor Max Price standing in a sea  twenty-somethings.  So I asked him what would happen to the statue once it was taken off the pedestal.

His response shocked me. I had seen the removal of the statue as a triumph for student unity, but he told me the administration was taking the statue off university property to protect it.   True the statue had been vandalised but this seemed to belittle the celebratory atmosphere of the moment.   I understand that Rhodes’ contributions to education were substantial. I know he donated the land I study on so that white males could learn – note, not women.

But I also know he was a man who endorsed extreme racial oppression. He certainly would not have endorsed the cultural diversity I was witnessing. Perhaps he was turning in his grave, or would do so  on the crane?

Below the statue more people were arriving. The space teemed. Moving  between bodies was now impossible. The cries got louder and more performance protests followed. Theatre students bathed themselves in “blood”, a cleansing ritual.

Then the #RhodesMustFall marchers flooded onto an already packed field – ironically the very one on which my father was tear-gassed in 1983 while protesting against racial quotas.

The group supposedly leading the call for Rhodes to fall made their presence known with posters, printed T-shirts and speeches. An SRC member silenced the crowd, reciting a statement off her Blackberry. Despite the microphone’s technical malfunctions, her words rang true.

The time had come. We counted down as the crane rumbled.  I would never have thought the day would come where the “Selfish Generation”, as some social media pundits have dubbed us, could be this influential.

I swear I could taste victory.

As he was lifted off his pedestal into the air Rhodes made his last turn of Cape Town.

Many said afterwards that a shiver ran down their spines as he glared down at them. Then, he was banged onto the truck.

A student leapt up onto his plinth. For first time in history a black man stood and cheered where Rhodes once sat.

I wish that time and youthful politics could have been frozen at that point, but sadly this is where the frenzy seemed to boil over into violence. What had been a vibrant, peaceful and purposeful protest, turned into a ridiculous mess as men jumped onto the truck and “beat up” a statue that no longer held any authority.

Rhodes the bronze was beaten with wooden poles, “strangled” with a heavy chain. Imitated punched were thrown and he was “slapped” across the face while some members of the crowd jeered.

It seemed vicious and unnecessary. Rhodes was gone.  I was filled with disappointment and shame.

But those few in the crowd in no way represented the feelings of the majority. Removing a statue commemorating a colonial patriarch, won’t change much in the bigger scheme of things. The socio-political issues of South Africa remain as a much larger beacon pointing to our present and future.

Indeed, we did not achieve racial equality or the ideal of a rainbow nation overnight, but on Friday, April 10, 2015, a majority of UCT youths demonstrated what we, the supposed “selfish generation” have the ability to unite around a common vision.

It was a fleeting moment, though.  Rhodes has fallen. The real work has only just begun.

Rosa-Karoo Loewe is a born free,   and was raised in Grahamstown and is a first year theatre and performance student at UCT