Let me tell you a small story.

A man’s roof began to leak.

At first, it was just a drop. Then two. Then a steady rhythm—kpok… kpok… kpok—right in the middle of his living room.

Naturally, the man became angry.

But instead of fixing the roof, he did something remarkable.

He chased the rain.

By evening, he was exhausted… and his house was flooded.

That, in many ways, is where South Africa finds itself today.

When the economy coughs, the foreigner catches a cold.

And suddenly, the Zimbabwean is the problem.

The Nigerian is the suspect.

The Ghanaian is the explanation.

Meanwhile, unemployment is seated comfortably like a chief at a durbar—well-fed, well-known, and untouched.

Ah.

In our part of the world, we say:

“When the roof is leaking, you don’t chase the rain—you fix the roof.”

But here, the rain is being chased with passion.

Let us be honest.

Xenophobia is not born. It is cultivated.

Watered daily with frustration.

Fed by inequality.

And harvested politically when convenient.

If every foreigner left tomorrow, would the jobs return on Monday?

Or would unemployment wake up, stretch, and ask for breakfast as usual?

That is the question we must confront.

Because until the root causes are addressed, the cycle will continue.

And each time it does, it will feel justified… even when it is misplaced.

So we return to the man.

Still chasing the rain.

Still ignoring the roof.

Still wondering why the house is flooding.

My people…

When brothers begin to treat brothers like strangers, the problem is no longer at the border.

It is at the foundation.

And until that foundation is fixed, the house will not stand.