THE drunken revelry is over. The trash is being blown off the beaches. It's time to take stock...
THERE'S a Mad Max drama that plays itself out at the close of every day. Clouds of dust envelope the tails of bouncing cars and trucks. Screaming seagulls attack each other in a frenzy over whatever scraps may lie on the ground.
And silhouetted by the dust and the setting sun, a lone figure patrols the wasteland, shotgun at the ready, holding back the crowds of emaciated onlookers that squat vulture-like on the periphery.
The sun dips low. The signal is called. A lone vehicle approaches and quickly bears the guard away.
And the vultures descend.
They are pack hunters. Their strength is in their numbers. Their territory is staked out. The lone wolves who dare to cross the lines are only the strongest and the swiftest.
Even the wasteland has its hierarchy.
Welcome to Durban.
This is the municipal waste disposal site at Electron Road, Springfield. The scavengers are mainly inhabitants of the adjacent informal settlement which separates the dump from Clare Estate.
They are searching for what you and I may have thrown away during the course of the day.
Almost everything is of value. From simple bottles and styrofoam cups to rotted timber, crumbling bricks, and disintegrating clothing.
By the time they leave, all of their accumulated pickings will be worth less than a single bottle of imported cognac from the liquor shop down the road.
One city. Two economies. This drama that plays itself out every work day come rain or shine is one of the starker reminders of the massive disparity between the haves and the have-nots in our country.
But there are more than altruistic reasons as to why we should be concerned. This poverty affects every one of us.
It's a question of simple economics. There is both a risk and reward in every endeavour we may undertake.
Most of us who have a choice, choose to work for someone else. The reward may not be high, but the risks (of unemployment, starvation, and possibly death) are relatively low.
On the other hand, those of us who choose to work for ourselves may not have the security of steady employment, but the rewards can be much greater.
What are the risks and rewards for someone who ekes a living by scavenging from the Electron Road landfill?
The risks are high. The rewards are dismal. But more importantly, these need to be compared with the risks and rewards available to one who works as a car hijacker.
In most normal industrialised societies, people are not prone to seeking employment as criminals because they have too much to lose. They have roofs above their heads, food in their bellies, and mindless entertainment on demand on their TV screens.
The Electron Road scavenger has none of these things. Constant exposure to the dust and stench condemns him to a shorter lifespan even if he is able to find enough scraps to feed on and if he is not killed for raiding outside his territory. His life has no value.
And he knows that if he is able to acquire a gun and relieve you of your car as you leave the nearby food store, clutching those few hard-earned necessities that you have budgeted for after paying your lights, water, telephone, school fees, and medical bills, he will earn more in five minutes than he could in five years.
And what if he does get caught? What if they shoot him? What if they hang him? He has not lost much at all. He had nothing to start with. There was no risk.
And for the same reason, he may kill you or me. Because your life and my life have exactly the same value in his eyes as his own. None.
Larger, better-paid police forces will not even scratch the surface of this problem. Neither would a mandatory death penalty when the alternative to a life of crime is slower death.
Poverty has to be tamed. Only if this is done will the crimelords who live off the results of the violence be deprived of cannon fodder.
There are hundreds upon thousands who rise before dawn to pile into trains, buses, and taxis that will carry them to work, and return the same way after dark. They do so day in and day out. They have something to live for other than crime.
Happy New Year.