The world’s least prepared protester

We might be good at weddings. We might even be world-class at Barmitzvahs. And if there’s a kumzitz anywhere within a 50km radius, we’ll somehow find ourselves singing in harmony around a guitar. But on 30 June I realised something. As Jews, we are simply not built for protest marches. 

The revelation came when I heard that the demonstrations were expected to begin at 10:00 and wind down at around 15:00. Five hours. My first thought wasn’t about traffic disruptions, security concerns, or the constitutional right to protest. It was lunch. 

What exactly do people pack for a five-hour march? Surely no one just leaves home assuming food will somehow happen. There has to be a sandwich. Perhaps a protein bar. Maybe a flask. Someone, somewhere, has definitely packed biltong. 

And suddenly I wasn’t thinking about protest. I was planning an outing. 

Of course, there is the footwear. Back in my student days, when we marched against the apartheid government, footwear wasn’t about comfort. It was about making a statement. We all wore Doc Martens. They were heavy, impractical, and completely unsuitable for covering any meaningful distance. But they looked right. Nothing said “Amandla!” quite like sore feet. 

Today I’m older. Wiser. More aware of my podiatrist’s opinion. I briefly considered wearing my On Clouds, but that felt a little too “I’m protesting on my way to Pilates”. Instead I’d probably settle on a comfortable pair of Cole Haans. They communicate exactly the right message: “I feel strongly about this issue, but I’d also like to avoid plantar fasciitis.” 

Then comes the packing. Sunscreen. A hat with proper UV protection. A litre of water. Two if it’s particularly warm. Ventolin inhaler, because if the pharmacies have closed early and the looting has started, it’s always better to be prepared. Panado. Phone charger. Portable battery pack. Wet wipes. Hand sanitiser. Reading glasses. An extra layer in case it gets chilly later. 

By this point I’m no longer attending a protest. I’m preparing for a weekend in the Drakensberg. 

And then there are the practical Jewish questions. Will there be Mincha? Will we be home before Maariv, or will we do it there? And is there somewhere to sit? Will there be toilets? If there are toilets, are they clean? Will there be shade? 

What time are people planning to leave? Because if everyone leaves at 15:00, the traffic is going to be impossible. 

I suspect that’s why Jews don’t really do marches. We’d never actually get started. We’d still be standing in the parking lot comparing backpacks. One person would be handing out sunscreen Someone else would insist everybody takes another bottle of water. A mother would remind complete strangers to put on a jersey because “you never know”. An aunt would produce enough sandwiches to feed the entire front row. Someone would ask whether there was perhaps a shorter route. 

And why there isn’t a Discovery Vitality tent? 

And before the first slogan had been shouted, we’d have formed three committees, elected a treasurer, discussed catering, postponed the march until after lunch, and scheduled a follow-up meeting to evaluate whether marching was really the most efficient way to express ourselves. 

Which, come to think of it, may explain why Jewish history has produced so many lawyers, doctors, and columnists. But so few professional protesters.