Painful Irony
Those who have been following my blog the last couple of days might recall that a few posts back I mentiond that I love to show my country to the world... sometimes.
Well, this is not one of those times.
But first, some history:
This is the Bloemfontein city hall:
Shown here from the East, it was built in 1935 with a beautiful sandstone exterior featuring strong roman influences, with a gorgeous Italian interior. It's only one of the many architectural gems found in my hometown, and as such it has been the venue for many a prestigious event and gathering, anything from wedding receptions and high school dances to classy conferences and music concerts. I even watched my friend win his first bodybuilding contest there when I was younger. It is a placed well known and loved by Bloemfontein's citizens.
Most of them anyway. And that brings me to the painful part.
For the last decade or so, South Africa has seen more than it's fair share of protests, labor disputes and strikes, way too many of which have turned violent. There have been riots, looting, injuries and even deaths. Always accompanied by major damage to property and infrastructure. It's a blight that has infected this beautiful country, and it hurts my heart to say so. And then last night, this blight found it's way to the heart of my hometown.
For months now there has been a dispute between the local government and municipal workers. All that built up pressure finally reached critical mass last night, when promises maid were broken once more. Chaos ensued as municipal workers took to the streets to communicate their disappointment and frustration in the only way that has been getting any attention from government. Police were dispatched to the scene in an attempt to contain the chaos, but with little avail.
At some point members of the raging mob set fire to our beautiful town hall and the building was quickly engulfed in flame. This morning I went there to see for myself the damage caused by the fire.
It was not a pretty sight:
I took this picture from the North side of the building, and the damage is clearly visible, the roof entirely destroyed in the fire along with the interior, which I could not access due to the site now being the scene of an active investigation. This is a blow to the heart for any architecture lover, regardless of where in the world they might be. The painful irony in this photo though, is the presence of the word "Herstel" in the walkway leading to the Northern entrance of the hall. Herstel is the Afrikaans word, my mother tongue, for "repair". It was put there as part of a monument complex which the hall also formed part of, and speaks of fixing what is broken, reclaiming that which has been lost, and letting old wounds heal (something we have a lot of in our history as South Africans).
To me, on this day, it simply means that we will rebuild once more, and more than just our town hall, but burnt down trust and broken relationships along with it.