It has become uncomfortable to sit among fellow Africans

It has become a bit embarrassing to sit among other Africans, as a South African, and we have our leaders to blame.

It was a small glitch in two days of faultless organisation for the Turkey Africa Economic Development Forum in Istanbul that saw me climb into the back of a black van, along with five other Africans, that would drive us to the conference centre.

We had stood outside the hotel waiting for a bus, but after about 40 minutes, the driver of a van parked in the car park was corralled and he agreed to drive us to the conference centre.

We were so eager to get the first of the two-day event under way. For me, it was an opportunity to explore the growing business and investment scene in Africa in an environment where global investment and donor capital has become increasingly scarce due to low growth, high interest rates and sovereign debt overhangs.

For the other conference delegates, it was an opportunity to expand, drive sales, meet new partners in business and perhaps attract additional investment.

For many African countries, including South Africa, Turkey, who is a trusted and long-standing trading partner, helped in no small measure in that it has never been a coloniser.

As we set off in the van, somebody complained about the bus being late, there was a congratulations for taking the initiative to get a ride. It broke the ice.

We introduced ourselves. Sitting with me was a Zimbabwean, a Kenyan, a Somalian and a Nigerian, and all were in business in one way or another. They were very interested in the fact that I was South African.

The Somalian, the more outspoken among us, immediately asked if I was British or European, to which I replied that I was indeed South African, just an English-speaking version of it.

“So you can’t say anything in your country any longer because you are a coloniser,” he said. There were chuckles all around. I thought only the deeply cynical in South Africa thought this way, but I decided to let the conversation move on without rebuttal, as it may also have been a lopsided joke.

“You have a leader who is a successful businessman, a multi-millionaire, he has no excuse for not being able to do his job. All he had to do was do something right for his people for five years and then retire. We had high hopes. The whole world is watching. South Africa was a rich country. They are saying oh no, no not another African story,” the Somalian quipped again.

Trying to dodge the subject again, I reply “yes, our economy is struggling, but much of it has to do with outside factors like high oil prices, a weak currency, low international growth that is hurting the economy.”

I could see by their averted eyes they were not convinced, but none of us wanted to speak more openly of it. After all, were were on a mission to stimulate trade and build investment confidence in Africa.

And while we were African, we were strangers on foreign soil, where it is typically prudent to see the glass as half full rather than empty when it comes to one’s home country.

I was asked who I thought would win the next election. I had no idea. I don’t think anybody has. The margins of difference at the polls between the major parties are at all-time lows.

I wished there was a strong contender with good policies that could grow the economy, something fitting to tell the other African delegates at the conference. I compromised again.

“I expect the ANC will win again, because no other party that can claim a majority black support,” I reply. It is a half-truth based in part on a lie often stated by other parties, that the DA is a party for whites.

But I feel this is too complex to explain to my new friends who likely have only a basic knowledge of South Africa’s local political issues.

I also did not tell them about the negative impact on investment and business of the political uncertainty of the split vote.

I tell them that I hope that the EFF does not come to power, because the few plans it has announced, like nationalising the banks, border on lunacy and will destroy business in the country.

The Nigerian tells us that the EFF is big only on social media, and well-meaning South Africans won’t vote them into power. Things are looking up in Africa, there is hope, he says.

The Somalian says his business does not operate on hope and “I tell it as I see it”. He cites the recent coups in Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso, and conflicts in South Sudan, Ethiopia, Mozambique and Democratic Republic of Congo, how tough it is for him to do business in many African countries compared with trading in Europe where the rule of trading are clear for everyone. and where the rules of investment do not change after every election.

“We need to built strong bureaucracies,” I say.

“Our leaders are to blame, they cannot claim ignorance. Your leader had the means to hire the best minds in the world to fix your economy,” the Nigerian says.

I cannot argue the point, I remain silent.

“Our people who live in your country, they are there for only one reason and that is to do business. They are treated very badly,” the Somalian says. I realise the Somalian is also being diplomatic.

Both he and I know that Somalian business owners often fear for their lives in South Africa.

I can find no defence for xenophobia. I nod, and look down in silence.

“I heard South Africa now has many problems with electricity. I would never have imagined this. South Africa was once an advanced economy,” the Nigerian says.

There is a general rolling of eyes and throat clearing, as if they sense my discomfort. Thankfully the van draws up in front of the conference centre.

“Do you have an idea what you will write about at this conference,” the Zimbabwean asks?

“He already has his story,” the Somalian says.