The Oprah School on Trial

Anti-violence and women’s groups commend Winfrey for acting with such alacrity as soon as she heard about the allegations, and for publicly commending the girls for their bravery. But among some South Africans, there’s a hope that this case won’t reach a fever pitch. There’s almost a fear that if the trial ends without a conviction, Winfrey will take her millions elsewhere. Outside the court, a uniformed police officer who would not give his name shook his head when I asked him about the case. “It’s not a big case,” he said. “But because it is Oprah, it is bigger.” He opens his hands wide. “Because that’s what happens when people have money.”

Today, the Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy for Girls remains in session—with nearly all of the same girls and mostly all-new staff. At the press conference last year, Winfrey said the school would “redefine what the [dorm matron] position should mean and what the qualifications will be in the future.” She provided the girls with trauma counseling, and reiterated her commitment to make the school a safe environment. “I am a mama bear when it comes to protecting my children,” she said.

Only Makopo and the young women involved can say exactly what happened at the school. Certainly, if Makopo did do these things, she should be held accountable. But in reviewing Makopo’s case, I am struck by this woman, alone in the courtroom. I find myself asking questions: Is someone who does these things always an insidious child molester? Or could this be the behavior of an extremely poor—and poorly-qualified—child minder who has no sense of boundaries, an immature woman who played childish games to humiliate and overpower others? Is there a difference? Or any difference that matters?

South Africa has made enormous strides as a democratic nation. But for some there remains a brutality here, a roughness born of systematic, racialized oppression and desperate poverty. And it erupts in abuse—physical, verbal, sexual—among women as well as among men. It is everywhere. You are humiliated and you humiliate. In many ways, it is the exact opposite of the self-empowerment that Winfrey promotes in her television program, her magazine, and her school. And that’s what’s so difficult. Winfrey had installed the most advanced security systems at her school to protect the South African children inside. But in the end, she couldn’t keep out this part of South Africa.

During the lunch break, Tiny Makopo again joins her friends. They walk to the fast-food place in the vacant lot next door. The lot is full of tin-sided shacks and camper vans propped up on bricks. There is garbage everywhere: candy wrappers, plastic soda bottles, plastic bags.

Over a plate of fries, I ask Makopo whether she is working while she’s out on bail.

“I wish I were working,” she says. “I have no money. I have nothing. I want a job, desperately. I’m dependent on my friends to help me. Like today, it’s Friday. I want Captain Morgan, but I have no money.”

I asked Makopo what her dreams are for the future.

“I dream about those kids. I do. Every night,” Makopo says.

“You mean nightmares?” her friend asks.

“Yeah, I mean nightmares,” Makopo says. Then: “But I mean, no. No, I don’t have dreams. I don’t dream anymore. My life is fucked.”