Rabbie Serumula, author, award-winning poet, journalist.
Spring arrived on Tuesday. But somewhere between the first bucket of water and the last drop of blood, we forgot what we were celebrating.
There is something almost cruel about the symbolism.
Spring is supposed to be about renewal. About colour returning to the landscape. About leaving behind the cold, the darkness and the barrenness of winter.
Instead, for some communities, the arrival of September became an excuse to drench strangers, disrupt traffic, damage public property and turn a day of youthful excitement into something altogether darker.
