The "new" South Africa took a real nosedive at the weekend when its security forces staged a massive show of strength to contain a peaceful and largely indigenous protest march to the United Nations World Summit on Sustainable Development.
The "Long March", as it was billed by the organisers, turned out to be much longer than expected because of the circuitous route it had to take from the poor black township of Alexandra to the rich white suburb of Sandton, where the summit is being held.
Journalists from all over the world could not fail to be shocked by the stark contrast between the appalling conditions in Alexandra's squatter camps and the manicured, Beverly Hills-like environment within the walled compounds of Sandton.
Dennis Brutus (77), veteran of the struggle against apartheid, certainly had a sense of déjà vu when he saw the first four of numerous Caspar armoured cars lined up beside the march as it set off.
These sinister-looking vehicles, each one carrying a pair of sub-machineguns, had last seen such intensive service during the ancien régime, when they were used to stifle dissent in Soweto and other hotbeds of revolt against white minority rule.
Plus ça change, he thought, as he took up his place at the head of the demonstration behind the red banner of the Landless People's Movement calling for "land, food, jobs". Above, three police helicopters and one spotter plane busied themselves flying about.
"Stop the war on the poor and make the rich pay!", the throaty-voiced woman with a megaphone shouted. So many police, both local and national, were involved in the security operation that author Heidi Holland speculated that there couldn't be a policeman left on the beat in either Cape Town or Durban.
She was wearing a black T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan "Stop Thabo Mbeki's AIDS genocide", a reference to the South African President's outrageous view that there is no direct connection between HIV and the spiralling AIDS pandemic here. Another participant in the Long March was Naomi Klein, author of No Logo, the bible of the anti-globalisation movement. Israel and Palestine were the focus of
some of the placards, with no prizes for guessing whose side they took.
Another banner urged Osama Bin Laden to "bomb Sandton" where this week's summit was "all about the sustainability of the rich" and offered nothing to the poor.
After crossing the Jukse river, some 15,000 marchers squeezed through narrow streets lined with tin-roof shacks, some no more than 10 feet by eight. Every side street was guarded by police in riot gear.
"Where is the freedom that we fought and died for" the throaty-voiced woman roared. On the corner of Selbourne Street, one Afrikaner plain-clothes special branch leered "Sandton is very far!".
So near and yet so far, separated from Alexandra's squalor by an industrial estate and two major roads. And when the marchers finally made it, they found yet more police.
Sandton had been turned into a fortress. Water cannon were at the ready, but there was no trouble. The only wrong move was made President Mbeki's top adviser, Essop Pahad. When he got up on to the podium, he was loudly booed off.
