Apologies once again for the long time in between posts. I recently returned from a 6-day working vacation to Cape Town, during which I had little to no time to sequester myself with my computer. Hopefully, the time I spent experiencing the city rather than writing will add some richness to the blog posts that follow.
For my readers who are unaware, Cape Town (Kaapstaad in Afrikaans) is a city on the western coast of South Africa, whose metropolitan area includes around 2.5 million people. Founded in 1652 by Jan van Riebeeck, it is nicknamed “The Mother City” because it was the first European establishment in South Africa. Mr. van Riebeeck was an employee of a trading outfit called the Dutch East India Company, and he originally only meant for it to be a refreshment station for Dutch ships on their way to Indonesia. History has a funny way of turning out not quite as we expected.
From that tiny trading outpost, Cape Town has morphed into a thriving, cosmopolitan city in which a walk through the main Green Market Square will expose your ears to alternating strains of English, Afrikaans, German, Turkish, Japanese, and a host of languages from all over Africa. The city sits at the foot of a majestic peak called Table Mountain that has recently been named one of the new 7 wonders of the world. On the outskirts of the city is the Stellenbosch region, which boasts countless finely landscaped vineyards that produce much of the South African wine, so widely admired around the world. From my experience so far, Cape Town is the most beautiful city in South Africa, far outpacing Pretoria, Johannesburg, and Durban. It also has a very relaxed feel about it, with outdoor cafes speckling the streets, in stark contrast to the full-throttle way of life in Johannesburg. Cruising through its different areas, one could be forgiven for thinking he was in a European metropolis instead of Africa.
I don’t want to spend too much time waxing lyrical about Cape Town, but suffice it to say that the place is amazing, and somewhere I would not mind living. During my stay, I managed to attend the world’s largest individually timed cycle race (Lance Armstrong has competed in the past), be given a special tour and winetasting at a breathtaking winery, climb to the top of Table Mountain, and attend a local derby rugby match between the two main universities. To top it all off, I even managed to get some Peace Corps work done when I stopped by Grassroot Soccer, which is headquartered in Cape Town. This organization was started by Ethan Zohn, the winner of the third season of Survivor, with some of his winnings from the show. The group uses soccer to promote HIV/AIDS education, healthy lifestyles, and good life choices in general. With any luck, we will have them expanding to my area within the year.
Out of all my experiences during my whirlwind tour, however, I think the most lasting memory was that of my trip to Robben Island. Robben Island is a body of land about 7 kilometers off the coast of Cape Town, that became infamous as a prison that hosted political prisoners during the apartheid regime. One of these prisoners was Nelson Mandela.
View from Robben Island looking back toward the mainland
The trip was made all the more intriguing by the fact that I was accompanied by my Afrikaner friend in Warrenton (who was the one who made the entire Cape Town trip possible) and his Afrikaner girlfriend, who lives in the suburbs of Cape Town. Just to provide some background, there are two main populations of Whites in South Africa. One is English-speaking and descends from the British settlers who arrived after South Africa came under British control in the 18th century. The other, called Afrikaners, speak a distinct language called Afrikaans, and are descended from the original Dutch settlers with Jan van Ribeeck, mentioned at the beginning of this post. The Afrikaners controlled things politically up until 1994, when Blacks were given the vote, and for this reason, Afrikaners are the ones usually associated with apartheid.
The Afrikaners, especially younger ones like my friend, will acknowledge the great injustice that was apartheid without reservations and that the system needed to be abolished. They feel now, however, that they have been collectively demonized by the current South African government and the world in general as a result of that unjust system. The Afrikaners assert that in the process of trying to make the evil of apartheid fully known, facts are distorted and a biased and actually untrue account is given. My friend, only half-jokingly, said that he would let us know the “true” story of Robben Island, and would step in if our guide mis-presented any information. (In the past, I have had a bit of trouble explaining to him that most people in America do not know that much about South Africa other than Nelson Mandela, such that they don’t even have enough information to demonize anyone. When he asked what Americans think of South Africa, I replied that Americans just don’t think of South Africa).
As we all waited in line to board the boat that would take us to the island, I thought I could sense a bit of nervousness and tension from my Afrikaner friend and his girlfriend as they knew they were about to be confronted with a dark part of their South African history. I remember seeing a similar emotion when I was accompanied by my German friend to a concentration camp, or when I, myself, as a White American descendant of slave-owners, traverse plantations or historical sites of discrimination. Even though a person may not have committed the atrocities themselves, they acutely understand and feel that they are nonetheless connected to such events.
After a 30 minute boat ride, we descended onto the rocky shores of Robben Island and began our tour (with a huge group of Americans from Rutgers University; I guess we naturally attract each other). The first part of the tour was a bus ride around the island. On this ride, we saw the rock quarry where Mandela and other prisoners were forced to work every day, but who nonetheless managed to use such time to educate and train the younger men in history, economics, law, and politics. It was in fact so influential that the cave in the quarry where the men were allowed to have lunch was nicknamed “the university” because of the discussions and learning that took place there. We then continued on to the actual prison where we walked the prison courtyard and saw the cell where Nelson Mandela spent 18 years of his life. I am a self-admitted history nerd, and I absolutely love reading up on events and then visiting the actual places. Robben Island is one of those places where the stones seem to talk, and one can just feel the history coming up out of the ground all around oneself. It is a simultaneously sobering and exhilarating experience.
Courtyard of B Section, where Nelson Mandela was kept
Our guide through the courtyard and Mandela’s cell was, like most of the guides on Robben Island, a former inmate. He recounted to us what life was like as a political prisoner, and how they used tactics like hunger strikes to gradually gain better treatment such as hot water in the showers and actual beds to replace the thin blankets on concrete. He showed us the food schedule for prisoners used in the ‘60s and ‘70s that actually prescribed amounts based on the race of the prisoners. Asians and Coloureds (i.e. mixed-race) were given more and better food than Blacks. The guide went through the names of prominent freedom fighters and detailed the struggle that was fought by many South Africans against apartheid.
Mandela’s cell, all of which is contained in this photo
Throughout all of this, I wondered if my Afrikaner counterparts would ever interject or comment, but they never did. They remained as silent and reflective as myself throughout the entire tour. As we boarded the boat to take us back to the mainland, I asked my friend what he thought of the history and treatment of apartheid that had been provided by the guide. My friend replied that he thought it had been accurate and fairly presented and had no major complaints. It was his next comment, however, that surprised me. He said, “You know, Josh. What I really liked about that guy, was that he recognized that there were many White people fighting against apartheid, too. So many times, it seems like everyone thinks that every White in South Africa was for apartheid, but it’s not true. It wasn’t just Blacks working to end the system.”
It was, I think, a very important observation, despite the fact that some might criticize it as self-serving. There WERE Whites who recognized the injustice of apartheid despite the color of their skin, in the same way that WERE a number of Germans who resisted the Nazis, and there WERE a population of White Americans who fought continuously against slavery. This doesn’t mean that we need to overstate their role, but the fact that there was a presence there – even if it was a minority – needs to be acknowledged. In the same way that stereotyping all Blacks as criminals is untrue and emotionally pains those many Blacks who are responsible citizens, stereotyping all Whites in the past or the present as discriminatory is also untrue and hurtful. History and people are much more nuanced than we many times would like to believe. This complexity is admittedly uncomfortable because it makes the world a less simple place and keeps us from easy explanation and categorization of people and events. The fact of the matter, however, is that things, and especially people, ARE complex. I think Nelson Mandela, who developed a lifelong friendship with his former jailer, would agree.
