• ZULU King Goodwill Zwelithini believed to have sparked the xenophibic attacks in South Africa.

By Austin Kaluba –
‘Sho’t Left” is derived from everyday South African taxi lingo and is used by commuters wanting a driver to stop close by.
A commuter would shout “Sho’t left, driva! – meaning, I want to jump off just around the corner.
It is a term that a new arrival using minibuses (commonly known as kombis in South Africa) is taught by better-accustomed foreigners.
They would also teach you to raise the index finger when stopping a kombi.
While this symbol is offensive in most European cultures where it is used to express insult and belittlement, in South Africa it is an innocent sign that would qualify you as a local.
A Zambian friend Bwalya Chipasha who has lived in South Africa for more than 15 years told me that when he went down South, he once waved down taxis but they all kept passing.
It is on kombis that new comers are usually identified and readily classified as Makwerekweres —a derogatory term for foreigners and onomatopoeia for someone who speaks unintelligibly, a “babbler.”
Every time I visited the country, I have had my own share of xenophobia either in public or among professionals who fear everyone trekking down south wants a job.
I remember one incident when I was travelling to Randburg and made a mistake of answering a phone in English. From the corner of my eye, I could tell the driver was listening to the conversation.
It turned out that he had concluded from my accent that I wasn’t a local.
When we arrived at my destination, the driver only waited for two heavily built matronly-looking women who looked every inch South African to disembark before speeding off.
Everybody in the bus had seen me getting off my seat to disembark.
I was halfway to the door before the driver sped off.
I heard cackles of laughter from other commuters and a roguish smile spreading on the face of the driver.
I quickly realised that he wanted to pick a quarrel with me. I didn’t want to provide a chance for him to do that knowing the consequences could be grave.
It was a period when newspapers were full of violent xenophobic riots and attacks in places like Soweto, Alexandria and  Zwelihle.
Fortunately, the final destination of the Kombi was three stations away from Randburg. When the Kombi reached its destination, the driver confronted me.
‘Is this where you are going? he asked in a heavily-accented voice.
‘Oh yes,’ I answered trying hard to mask my rage.
‘I thought it was Randburg,’ he said smiling challengingly.
‘If it was Randburg, why didn’t you allow me to get out,’ I answered him this time expressing my anger since I knew there were other decent people who would intervene if he tried to be violent.
While he was contemplating my rude answer, I walked to a nearby shop before I could board another Kombi back to Randburg.
Another incident happened in Yeoville, a suburb of Johannesburg, in the province of Gauteng, a community of migrants, mostly economic migrants from all over the country and the rest of Africa.
I was drinking in a pub called Rockfeller.
As I was slotting some coins in a mounted juke box, two thuggish-looking youths entered the place and sat in a corner discussing.
I saw the foremost one who was wearing a jungle hat usually associated with streetwise South African youths, look up when I went to sit down on my stool.
My sixth sensed something hostile because the chap registered several facial expressions that spoke volumes that he knew I was not a local.
As John Coltrane’s song  started playing on the jukebox, the youth in a jungle hat shouted at the bar man ‘heh man, who is playing that stupid music?
The bar man was visibly not offended since he seemed to know who the question was directed at. The other colleague said something in si-Zulu and pulled a face.
‘Heh man, reduce the volume. It is too loud! the youth in the jungle hat shouted again, this time standing up and heading towards the counter.
I was saved by a group of men entering the bar. They somehow blocked me from the two unruly youths.
I left quickly leaving my bottle of Amstel almost full.
I also remember another incident on my way to Soweto to visit Mandela’s former residence that is now a national museum, commonly referred to as Mandela House.
It is the house on Vilakazi Street, Orlando West, Soweto, where Nelson Mandela lived from 1946 to 1962.
As I boarded the Kombi in the front seat, a driver who had been chatting with some youths who looked like Tsotsis(Thieves), got in when the bus was full.
Since in South Africa Kombi drivers don’t travel with conductors like in Zambia, commuters started producing money which they passed to me since I was seating in front.
I got confused with the money and didn’t know who to give change or where each commuter was going. I told the driver this in English.
‘What! he shouted and almost stopped the Kombi. There was silence in the bus. He grabbed the few coins that someone had passed to me.
‘Where are you from?
‘Zambia,’ I answered meekly.
‘And what are you doing here?’
Before I could answer, a handsome woman with kinky hair said something about Makwerekweres coming to South Africa to take up jobs meant for locals.
The body language of most commuters told me that they agreed with the woman who had concluded that most foreigners were taking jobs meant for South Africans.
A Nigerian journalist friend Obi had narrated to me how a Kombi driver had threatened to shoot him for the simple reason that he was a foreigner.
Obi, who was conspicuously darker than most South Africans who are usually light, boarded a Kombi from Yeoville to central Johannesburg where he worked.
When he produced  a note money for his ride, the Kombi driver said he had no change. Obi protested because he had seen several coins in the slot where the driver puts his money.
A quarrel ensued with the driver threatening ‘to destroy’ him. It was clear that the issue was not the change.
The Kombi driver made it clear that a foreigner had no right to argue with a local.
Obi told me that, after his life was threatened, he said the word ‘sorry’ more than seven times.
I am not saying all South Africans hate foreigners. There are several nationals who are welcoming and show no traces of xenophobia.
However, from my experience most people that I came across have stereotypes about foreigners as spongers, which as some people contend, is likened to makwerekweres which are small migratory birds that fly in large flocks and are destructive to crops.
As you read this article, shops belonging to foreigners are being looted and set ablaze with frightened foreigners hiding in police stations and stadiums running away from machete-wielding attackers.
Though xenophobia is now part of the South African culture, the ongoing spates of xenophobic attacks can be attributed to Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini who said at a recent gathering that, foreigners “should pack their bags and go” because they are taking jobs from citizens.
Shortly after his comments, violence against immigrants erupted in the port city of Durban.
Though his office has denied he made the comments, saying journalists misquoted him, he should understand as a king what impact his words have in a society that still reveres traditional leaders.
According to a study by the University of the Witwatersrand, the nation has about two million documented and undocumented immigrants, which is about 4 per cent  of the total population. Zimbabweans make up the largest group of immigrants.
Government statistics puts the nation’s unemployment rate about 25per cent meaning, jobs are scarce in South Africa.
Though South Africa is a top travel destination for wealthy Africans because of its proximity and developed infrastructure, scramble for the limited jobs is the major source of conflicts between foreigners and locals.
As this stand, there is need by authorities to educate locals on how to live in harmony with foreigners instead of allowing leaders like Zwelithini to foment xenophobic sentiments through careless statements.