CHAPTER TEN — 10/30/2007 — South Africa’s Ubuntu
I know I am ignorant. I travel so I can learn. I don’t expect to come out of a trip that much smarter, but little by little my mind expands.
I don’t expect to understand a country as rich in sad history as South Africa after just 3 nights, but I am really confused. What on earth were these people thinking?!
Obviously Europe was NOT faring in a sea of intelligence in the 1940s, and I guess it is contagious. Still, I don’t understand how a whole government thought it would be a good idea to split people along skin-color lines when all where living in peace.
Yet, as my guide Brian was explaining to 3 Dutch tourists and me on Friday, that’s what the parliament decided to do through the Group Area Act of 1950. After spending 10+ years in District Six, the most vibrant and heterogenous district in Cape Town, he was forced to leave and settle in a township for “coloured” people, which is the South African term for people of mixed origins. He has ancestors in Asia, Europe and Africa.
The government created separate neighborhoods for whites, blacks, Asians and mixed people. Most low-income townships are in area called Cape Flats, separated from Cape Town by… railway tracks.
So, Brian said, once you were relocated, you could completely lose contact with your life-long neighbors from a different skin color. His mother refused to be thrown out, so she went to the officials and said: I am leaving on my own volition.
The family secured a safe place as close to the city center as it was possible for a family of mixed origin. Instead of walking up the street, his father had to take a long bus ride to get to work. Brian still lives in the Cape Flats.
The apartheid is over, yet the townships are still very much there with the same people. Those with means have migrated to the “richer” Asian and white neighborhoods where schools are the most integrated.
There are programs helping parents to come up with schools fees so that their children can get a good education even if they live in townships, but there are school, churches, libraries, etc in each one.
Driving from the airport you only see the poorer and most dilapidated shacks — unless you are like me, struggling to keep your eyes open and only dreaming of going to bed.
There are also what they call “formal townships” with brick houses, gardens, water and electricity. From the road, you can see the “Mandela Houses,” built with government money, now nicknamed “Smarties Houses” because of their colors.
We drove through 3 townships, formal and informal, then we stopped in Khayelitsha to meet the inhabitants and get a different perspective, get a taste of “Ubuntu.”
Ubuntu is personified by Gloria who created a day care for the children of working mothers. In our times, a mother cannot leave her child safely in the township, even with family members. So Gloria has three age groups, until they are old enough to go to school.
The older ones learn things like the months of the year in English, how to count, some songs. One song is particularly touching, it’s called “My Body” and goes something like this: “This is my body. From my head to my toes, this is my body. It belongs to me. This is my body. Don’t touch. Go away.” They sing it while gesturing, touching their bodies, heads and toes and making the international gesture for “Get lost!” The objective is to protect children from sexual predators.
Ubuntu is also Beauty who is HIV positive but is better defined by her skills: she is not only a talented seamstress but also a patient teacher. Dozens of girls are trained in her leaking and steaming shack, for free.
Vicky is also a fervent believer in serving her community. She has a B&B for tourists right in the middle of Khayelitsha and in the summer (winter for us folk in the northern hemisphere) it’s booked nonstop. She wants people to really understand that people are not defined by their surroundings, and they all work very hard to, one day, afford to live in the better townships.
Township is not a bad word anymore, and some are very proud of their homes.
You might wonder what happened to District Six after all the people who were not white had to leave. Well, it was torn down. Some groups managed to keep their churches/mosques and the business sector was kept intact, everything else was razed down to the ground.
White people were invited to come and build their houses there. Few came. Those who did have huge electric fences. Nowadays, there are still huge vacant plots.
The area is mostly home of a university and the site of a reconstruction project to relocate people who had to leave in the 50s and 60s. If you are ever in Cape Town, visit the District Six Museum.
Another tourist attraction not to be missed is Robben Island, which means ‘island of seals’ in Dutch. Pretty name for an ugly place.
Except for the cute penguins and seals, you go there to visit Mandela’s cell.
On your way there, you’ll pass the leper cemetery — the island took a break from being a prison to be leper colony from 1831 to 1936. Mandela was in prison for 27 years, 18 of which on Robben Island.
The tour guide is a former prisoner, part of a program to help educate and integrate young activists like him who lost half their lives. Unlike Mandela who was alone in his cell, the guide was in a long room with barely space to move between the 50 bunk beds.
Like the country, the prison was segregated and each group had their own cells. There were no whites — they were in a different location. Mixed and Asian people had better food and privileges than black people.
Some prisoners, including our guide, went on a hunger strike to get better conditions and the Red Cross had to intervene. For example, it is thanks to them that they actually got beds.
I really wanted to quiz the white driver who picked me up/dropped me off at the airport how it felt to live in such a divided society. Of course there are racist people who don’t think rationally, and white activits who fought side by side with Mandela and ended up in jail.
I am thinking of the regular white guy/woman who is not prejudiced and not politically inclined, how do you live happily in a society of apartheid? But it was 6am on a beautiful Sunday morning and I didn’t want to question him on a recent past that has to be sensitive still.
However, there is more to Cape Town that its mystifying history. The waterfront could be any harbor in the US. Downtown is as lively and friendly as any European city.
I spent a couple of hours in a park “Company’s Garden” established by the Dutch-East India Trading Company to provide vegetables to the colonists.
I didn’t climb up Table Mountain (what we call molehill in Switzerland… haha) because it was overcast, but loved watching it from the roof of the hotel.
My room was so luxurious (thank you Expedia.com!), I didn’t want to leave. The bathroom had dark stone walls. The kitchen (yes, a much better/bigger kitchen that I have in DC) was on a second floor, with a couch and access to the roof, where the jacuzzi and grill were. The TV had more than two channels! I didn’t even use the kitchen because food is delicious in Cape Town.
After spending a couple of hours on Robben Island, I was frozen and had a delicious hot chocolate with an apple-raisins-almond stuffed CREPE on the Waterfront! Not as good as my grandmother’s but oh so much better than American pancakes!
The chicken melts in your mouth and veggies are fresh and crisp. I had the best chicken salad ever with avocado, sun-dried tomatoes, black olives, cucumber, mozzarella and fresh tomatoes. Makes me hungry just thinking about it.
I don’t recommend airports in South Africa though. They are going through major renovations to get ready for the 2010 World Cup, so there are signs asking for patience and apologizing for any inconvenience…
Both the Cape Town and Jo’Burg airports were confusing and I am not sure it’s all due to the renatovations. Jo’Burg airport could even be in competition with Heathrow and JFK as Worst Airport Ever if it were not for the chocolate selection in the duty free — SWEET!
Something to look forward to the next 2 times I have to endure it before I leave the continent (Nov 13), but at least I won’t have to change terminals. The walk from international to domestic takes you through construction sites, garages, confusing halls with no signs and a “helpful” man talking to you in gibberish.
Lilongwe’s airport is the way I like them: small and small : )
Travelling Tastebuds 
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