Winners Know When, Losers Don’t

KASI PATRIOT

My uncle’s name was Ranger. Yes, Ranger, as in the fearless lawman from the 90s American television series who protected the innocent and punished the villains. But unlike that famous Ranger, my uncle earned his nickname through a far less noble trade: walking the alleys and gambling on cards.

In township gambling circles, the King card is called the “Ranger.” Every card, in fact, has a moniker. The number “7” for instance, is called ‘S'gebengu’, “2” is called ‘uDube no-Blose’, “4” is called ‘Benoni’ and so forth.

My uncle developed a habit of always backing the Ranger and, with a mixture of skill and occasional trickery, he won often enough for the name to stick. Before long, everyone knew him as ‘Ranger’ or ‘Renja’ in township dialect.

He was charming, quick-witted and full of confidence. But like many gamblers, he was reliable only when lady luck happened to favour him.

The False Promise of Easy Money

My grandmother would sometimes send him to buy groceries. On a good day, he would return with more than she had budgeted for – bread, mealie meal, sugar, canned fish, perhaps even a few luxuries for me, a chocolate here and a pack of marbles there. On a bad day, he would come back foul-tempered, empty-handed, his pockets turned inside out and muttering expletives aimed at conveying to the listener just how much of a fickle mistress Lady Luck was.

My uncle’s story is not simply a family anecdote. It is the story of countless South Africans today, caught in the false promise that one lucky break can solve deep economic hardship. And it is why gambling advertising in this country deserves far stricter regulation than it currently receives.

Gambling paradise...... The author calls for restriction on gambling advertising

From Street Corners to Smartphones

The game has swiftly moved on from the traditional fafi, mshayina, dice and cards on street corners. It has become Aviator games, Supabets and other platforms – all readily available on cellphones, literally in the palm of our hands.

South Africa is already a nation burdened by unemployment, debt, inequality and anxiety. Millions wake each morning to uncertain incomes and rising prices. For many, especially in poorer communities, gambling is marketed not as entertainment but as opportunity. It is sold as a shortcut to dignity, relief and upward mobility.

That is where the danger lies.

We have seen this before. Tobacco companies once sponsored major sporting events and wrapped themselves in glamour, prestige and national pride. Cigarette branding was everywhere. Eventually, society accepted that products which cause addiction and social harm should not be aggressively promoted, especially to young people and low-income communities. Regulation followed. The same logic should apply to gambling.

Yet gambling operators continue to flood radio, television, billboards and smartphones with polished advertisements promising excitement, instant rewards and easy winnings. Soccer, the biggest pastime in South Africa, is backed by a major betting platform.

The warnings are always there, tucked neatly into the corner: Play responsibly. Winners know when to stop. Call the helpline. But what about the losers?

These disclaimers are meant to reassure the public and absolve the industry. But they are little more than cosmetic gestures. A whispered warning at the end of a seductive sales pitch does not cancel the damage of the pitch itself.

Not so long ago, a man in Limpopo is said to have arranged a meeting between his mouth and the barrel of a gun. This after he lost R6000 on a gambling platform.

Recently, I saw promoters outside a shopping centre  inviting passers-by to register betting apps on their phones. They wore branded clothing, smiled warmly and guided people through the process as though they were helping them access a public service.

Young men, mothers, domestic workers, pensioners, they all lined – exactly the people who can least afford to lose money. Some likely relied on social grants, casual wages or already overstretched household budgets. Yet they were being drawn into an industry built on the certainty that, over time, most participants lose.

Why Gambling Ads Must Be Curbed

Can South Africa afford to allow relentless advertising of a product known to be addictive and financially destructive?

Defenders of the industry often argue that people must take personal responsibility. There is truth in that. But personal responsibility and public regulation are not opposites. We regulate alcohol sales, tobacco marketing and credit lending because we understand that vulnerable people can be exploited by powerful commercial interests. Why should gambling be different?

At minimum, gambling advertising should face the same kind of serious restrictions once applied to tobacco: no aggressive public promotions, no youth-targeted messaging, no inducements disguised as rewards, and no saturation marketing in poor communities.

My uncle Ranger spent years chasing the next winning hand. Sometimes he came home triumphant. More often he came home with nothing. That is the road, I fear, most gambling South Africans are already down on: a road to perdition! TQ