The new public protector says she will leave the dispute over the state capture report prepared by h.
Any discussion of xenophobia is not for the squeamish. Four-letter words are almost standard. Things might fly into the air and land with unpleasant consequences for those below.
For me, it's very personal. I lived for 17 years in Zambia and was subjected to horrors I had not imagined were part of the human condition. I was discriminated against on the basis of my ethnic origins. I was subjected to insults by people I had never met before and could not have offended in my life. As soon as they heard my surname, they seemed to cringe, as if from a plague.
I travelled to Zambia for a job in 1963, not as a bricklayer or a mechanic, but as a journalist. In many ways, apart from the good fortune of starting my first family there, I had what some might call the "longest ride into hell".
But the problem started in Zimbabwe. There are certainly no indigenous Zimbabweans with the Saidi surname. There are a number of Zambians called Saidi, but they were not journalists when I lived there. We could have formed a sort of fraternity to protect ourselves.
The subject intrigued me, for the umpteenth time, when I read of the terror in Alexandra this week.
I left Zambia in 1980, when rumours spread that someone working for president Kenneth Kaunda's government was hunting for me - with a gun. I had just been scolded publicly by Kaunda for an editorial in The Times of Zambia, which had focused on the law as it affected classes in society.
In short, I had questioned the discrimination against the poor, where the law was concerned. To cut a long story short, that was the clincher for me: xenophobia could kill you or could get you killed. It was time to move.
In Zimbabwe, I had a most curious encounter with this menace: a South African, the widow of a hero of the struggle, when told who I was, asked me: "Where do you come from?" It was on the tip of my tongue to say "The Old Bricks", the township in which I was raised.
At the time, in the late 1930s, 60percent of the population was from what was then called Nyasaland.
I can't remember my exact response to the lady's question, but it reminded me that I wasn't out of the woods yet - to put it mildly - as far as that curse was concerned. I am older now and, presumably, wiser. But I got a bit of a shock a few years ago on a visit to Malawi. Years before, I had been deported from there during the reign of Kamuzu Banda, over a story in The Times of Zambia, which I hadn't written.
But this was after the Kamuzu era and in a discussion with someone in Blantyre, I was told that even if I did get a job there, there would still be another problem: someone would be found to harp on my place of birth.
Apparently, if you are Malawian by descent but were not born in Malawi, you could still be in real trouble.
Someone has to kill this xenophobia before it kills more people.