OPINIONS & PERSPECTIVES: When Celebration Turns to Conflict: Who is Protecting Communities?

When a young man returns home from ulwaluko, the rite of passage into manhood, it is supposed to be a joyous celebration -- families gather, songs are sung, and amakrwala are welcomed home with open arms and high spirits. Lately, instead of this being a joyous gathering, we see too many families bracing themselves for alcohol-fueled fights, territorial retaliation, and, in the worst cases -- funerals.

When did a celebration of culture become an occasion to prepare for conflict? And who is responsible for stopping it?

The easy response is to blame alcohol. While irresponsible drinking certainly turns volatile situations into catastrophes, alcohol is only part of the story. The deeper crisis lies in what happens when liquor pours into communities where the youth face intense pressure, the territorial rivalries are entrenched, and local structures intervene only after blood has been spilled.

Why do we expect law enforcement to fix issues that communities are of, for weeks? Why do Community Policing Forums (CPFs) and traditional leaders so often mobilise after a crisis rather than preventing one?

In rural Eastern Cape communities, traditional leadership wield immense cultural and social authority. That authority must be used proactively. Before major initiation ceremonies begin, traditional leaders should convene safety meetings to answer practical questions: Where will gatherings happen? Who is managing crowd control? How will disputes be de-escalated?

Crucially, traditional leaders must reinforce a clear standard: entering manhood means accepting responsibility. Returning home as an ikrwala is never a license for intimidation, violence, or lawlessness. Culture deserves absolute respect, but it must never serve as a shield for criminality.

Liquor traders are among the most visible businesses in rural areas. They know their clientele, they know when crowds are gathering, and they know which weekends carry high risk. With that market presence comes an inescapable obligation.

The Liquor Traders Forum, the Liquor Authority, and local police must move beyond a purely transactional relationship cantered on licenses and fines. Responsible traders must be empowered to shut down illegal sales, stop underage drinking, and refuse service to aggressive patrons. Those who deliberately break the law must face severe penalties, but compliant traders should be treated as vital prevention partners. A liquor business cannot thrive in a community destroyed by violence.

Municipalities and schools must also step out of the spectator booth. Local government sits closest to the population and must lead the effort to coordinate public safety. We cannot arrest, fine, or campaign our way out of a violent culture. What the Eastern Cape urgently needs is not another ceremonial photo-op with politicians, but an active working alliance.

• Traditional Leaders: Provide moral authority and cultural oversight.
• CPFs & SAPS: Share local intelligence and enforce the law early.
• Liquor Traders & Regulators: Stop illegal trading and enforce responsible consumption.
• Municipalities & Schools: Secure public spaces and protect educational environments.

Parents & Youth: Maintain household accountability and give young people a voice before frustration turns to violence. Every time violence erupts, a familiar cycle takes over. We talk about the arrests, the alcohol, and the police presence. A few days later, the news cycle moves on.

But behind every headline is a devastated home. No police statistic can comfort a mother whose son did not return from a celebration. No enforcement operation can replace a lost child. We do not have to choose between tradition and safety. We can honour ulwaluko, respect imiguyo, and welcome amakrwala with pride—while insisting that freedom without restraint is not maturity. The true test of manhood is not aggressive posturing or heavy drinking; it is restraint, protection, and respect for one's community.

The ultimate measure of success will not be how many young men are arrested after a violent weekend. It will be how many young men come home alive. Our traditions are too precious to become battlefields, and our youth are too valuable to become casualties. Protecting them is not somebody else’s job: it is ours.