“Being called ‘brown shit’ by teammates 20-odd years ago still echoes in my memories.” – Paul Adams
Telford Vice | Cape Town
PAUL Adams did not go to the Social Justice and Nation Building (SJN) hearings to name names. His testimony wasn’t about individuals or the actions of individuals. What he said was not a pitched fork deployed in a witch hunt. It was a plea for understanding and education.
And an alarm about a destructive fire that has always burnt through South Africa’s dressing room. To think it has been extinguished because CSA have dropped disciplinary charges against Mark Boucher, after losing their arbitration case against Graeme Smith last month, is to pour petrol on the flames.
Adams’ confirmation, in a statement on Sunday, that he would not testify at Boucher’s hearing doesn’t change that. There is racism in South African cricket because there is racism in South Africa. Only a sincere focus on eradicating racism in cricket, and our wider society, can change that. Only racists would disagree.
If Adams expected the dressing room to be a refuge from the white supremacist world just outside the door, he was sadly naive. Instead, he was demeaned as “brown shit” by his teammates during fines meetings held to, of all things, help celebrate victories.
The abuse didn’t end with Adams. Boucher was called “wit naai” — “white fuck” — in the same dressing room. Even now red-haired members of the squad are told, by teammates of all races, that “gingers have no soul”. How might Heinrich Klaasen and Kyle Verreynne feel about that?
But Boucher, Klaasen and Verreynne step out of the dressing room and back into whiteness, where they are readily accepted as first-class citizens based on their whiteness alone. Adams steps back into whiteness as just another brown person, and so a target for racism, prejudice, unfair treatment and conscious and unconscious bias. If he were black, his lot would be worse still. That remains almost as true in 2022 as it was in 1992, when South Africa played their first Test after readmission.
Adams made his debut almost two years before Boucher, and had played 18 matches for South Africa before the latter played his first. Thus the slur had no doubt been applied to Adams before Boucher heard it and participated in it. Adams played 69 internationals, of which South Africa won 37. That’s a lot of times to hear yourself described as “brown shit”.
Boucher played in 25 of those wins. The last of them was at Lord’s in 2003, when he hit 68 off 51 balls and Adams took the big wicket of Andrew Flintoff to seal success by an innings and 92 runs. Makhaya Ntini claimed 10 wickets and Smith, in just his fourth match as captain, scored 259 — which followed his 277 in the drawn first Test at Edgbaston. It is shocking to know that that shining day in South Africa’s cricket history ended with the players calling each other despicable names.
The match was Adams’ 63rd for the national team and Boucher’s 217th. By that stage of their careers — Adams was almost eight years into his international tenure and Boucher nearly six years in — were they not senior enough to raise their voices against such obvious misconduct? It’s not that simple.
Adams was just less than a month away from his 19th birthday when he first pulled on a South Africa cap, no doubt with great pride. Boucher was less than two months shy of turning 21 when he did the same, no doubt with identical feelings. Adams and Boucher were young, impressionable people thrust into a toxic environment. To be accepted they had to follow the lead of those who were already there — who themselves had inherited the traditions of the past, however wrong and damaging they were. It’s not as if incoming players are given a choice: here’s the culture, learn it or go home. Again, it’s not that simple.
South Africa’s new dawn on the road towards democracy was reached under Nelson Mandela on April 27, 1994, when the country held its first real elections. That’s the reason South Africans have the privilege of playing international sport. Cleansing toxic cultures is the least teams could do as gratitude for being given that privilege. But first they need to realise and accept that the culture is toxic.
How that did not happen in this case is an indictment on every player who has been part of the XI since readmission. That is even more true of those who had significant careers and especially of white players — as the leaders in the prevailing power dynamic, they alone could effect real change.
Not nearly enough progress had been made in this area when Adams testified at the SJN on July 22 last year. A measure of that was the lack of white witnesses at the hearings to rebut claims made against them, or to apologise. Jacques Faul, the Titans chief executive, was a notable exception. Boucher, like Smith, chose instead to restrict his involvement to a written submission riddled with lawyers’ weasel words and whataboutery.
Even though Boucher spent a good deal of his 14-page submission apologising and illustrating how he was invested in working towards a better culture, he still came across as aloof and unfeeling about hurt he had been accused of causing. Had he or his lawyers respected and trusted the SJN enough for Boucher to turn up in person — to present himself as a sinning and sinned against human being — he may never have been charged.
To leave his fate to the SJN report was a serious error. Dumisa Ntsebeza presided over the hearings with skill and warmth. Clearly, he didn’t know much about cricket. Just as clearly, that didn’t matter. Indeed, it was among the reasons to be hopeful: in a game shot through with contending agendas, he betrayed none. But Ntsebeza should be embarrassed by the report that has resulted. Adams has every right to feel insulted and betrayed.
The SJN report quotes Adams as saying: “Being called ‘brown shit’ when I was playing by teammates 20-odd years ago still echoes in my memories. I recall that Mark Boucher in particular would call me by that name and would be used as a fines meeting song for me … ‘Brown shit in the ring, tra-la-la-la-la’. Yes I was having the time of my life playing for my country and being one of the first black players to represent my country so I brushed it off and focused on my game because I wasn’t going to allow these racists to affect my mindset. I knew then already what was happening was wrong. But there was no-one to talk to or to support a player who spoke up so like my fellow black friends it off and let it go.”
What Adams’ submission actually says is: “Being called ‘brown shit’ when I was playing by teammates 20-odd years ago still echoes in my memories. I recall that a few players would call me by that name and would be used as a fines meeting song for me … ‘Brown shit in the ring, tra-la-la-la …”. Yes I was having the time of my life playing for my country and being one of the first black players to represent my country so l brushed it off and focused on my game because I wasn’t going to allow these racists to affect my mindset. I knew then already what was happening was wrong. But there was no-one to talk to or to support a player who spoke up so like my fellow black friends I shrugged it off and let it go.”
Note the absence of Boucher’s name in the original version, as presented by Adams. Nowhere in his written submission of more than 4,000 words does he mention Boucher. Fumisa Ngqele, an advocate assisting Ntsebeza, interrupted Adams as he was about to move on to the section of his testimony that dealt with his coaching career to say: “Mr Adams, may I just interject there. When Mark Boucher called you ‘brown shit’, did you ever address him personally?” Adams’ reply was that he had not taken up the issue with Boucher, and that “Mark was probably just one of the guys” who used the offensive term.
That doesn’t change the fact that Boucher had a case to answer. But it does mean the SJN report can’t be trusted to make that case fairly and accurately. And that, with Adams saying he was satisfied with Boucher’s apology and would not testify at the disciplinary hearing, CSA’s case — already shaky when Enoch Nkwe, another potentially important witness, indicated he would also not appear at the hearing — was dead in the water.
CSA’s board, which it should be remembered inherited the SJN and its shoddy report from a previous board, did the right thing by pulling the plug. Just as they did the right thing by calling for the hearing in the first place: allegations of racist behaviour by an employee cannot be ignored. Those calling for heads to roll at board level either don’t live in the real world of due process, or they have an unfair axe to grind.
There was more from Adams on July 22 last year, much of it heavy with wisdom and meaning: “I’m highlighting that it should never happen. And if we take this forward in the right manner we will have a lot more respect for each other. Maybe he should come and say sorry. Maybe that is all that needs to happen. But it should not be brushed under the carpet. If we want our teams within CSA to have the right ethic, the right mentality, the right respect for one another, we should air these things.
“No-one’s going to come here and sweep things under the carpet. That’s why I’ve built up the courage to actually come talk about it today. It’s taken a lot for me to be here and dig up some of these memories. I’ve felt a lot of emotion. We’re not here to break down the whole system. We’re here to build a better structure, a better way going forward.”
Sadly, the SJN report is that dreaded carpet. Adams’ courage and emotion will be remembered for a long time, but it’s difficult not to feel that it has been wasted.
First published by Cricbuzz.
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