Freedom Road

      The moment I stepped into Johannesburg, South Africa I was in a completely different world. It was developed, western and there were white people everywhere. (Oh, by the way, I’m not being politically incorrect, in Africa we are referred to as white and black.) Before I started this trip, I’ll admit I didn’t even know that South Africa was a country in itself.  I just thought it described the southern part of Africa in general.  It is definitely it’s own country and quite different from the rest of the continent.  Even the locals say, ‘There’s South Africa and then there’s real Africa.’ It was interesting to me that most South Africans in Johannesburg had never even been to real Africa.  Many of my conversations with them were answering questions and describing what it was like up in the eastern part.  They had the means to go there, yet didn’t. I wondered why volunteers were coming from all over the world to help their continent, but they themselves, were not. I asked several South Africans about this and they said,

       “During Apartheid we were not allowed to travel north at all.  It has not been that long and I guess it’s just not on our radar.”

       As I spent more time in Jo-burg though, I began to wonder if it wasn’t in part because they had no desire to help.  Racism still lives on in South Africa, conspicuous in every conversation, and equally strong on both sides of the coin. After spending months trying to help black people though, it was disturbing for me to hear them being scorned by whites.  I couldn’t abide it, and knew I could not stay there for long. 

       South Africa is still in the beginning stages of reconciliation as we were in the US in the seventies. After one day of staying at the hostel, I noticed they had put the whites in one building (the nice one) and the blacks in another. When I asked about it, they feigned innocence and said they hadn’t noticed. I moved over to the other building. It will take time. There are those enlightened few who are doing their best to eradicate the disparities, but it takes three generations to wipe out racism, and that is only if all three generations want to be a part of the process.

       In the mean time, tension is high in Johannesburg.  It feels a little like a ticking time bomb. Violence is an every day occurrence, and the people live in constant fear.  They stay behind high walls with barbed wire on the top, security guards, and panic buttons in their homes.  They drive straight to their destination, go inside, come out, and hurry back into their walled habitat.  I was saddened by it all, as it seemed they were prisoners of their own lives. During the World Cup everyone had been on their best behavior because it was such an economic boom for the area. A new Police Commissioner was appointed two years earlier who really clamped down on the car jackings and violence. It could be that it is actually safer now, but South Africans are still reeling from old anxious fears.

       The hostel I stayed in was located in a very nice area with a mall five blocks up the street. I put my laptop in my backpack and walked up the street to buy an Internet modem.  I said hello to everyone I passed, which was only black people because all the whites have cars and wouldn’t dream of walking the streets. I entered the retail kingdom and marveled that every single item known to mankind was suddenly at my fingertips. I bought a real coffee in a ‘take away’ cup, and they gave me napkins!  I used three, just because I could, and put one in my pack for safekeeping.  As I strolled I was quickly overwhelmed with choices and excess.  I had learned to live with nothing, and it would take an adjustment to live comfortably in this life again. The modem store did not have the right equipment for a Mac computer and said I would need to return the next day.

       In the afternoon I spent a very emotional three hours at the Apartheid Museum. As I entered the museum I was randomly given a ticket that allowed me through one door or the other. Depending on whether I was black or white on my ticket determined the experience I had for the first twenty minutes of my time in the museum. They’ve done a brilliant job of not only taking everyone back in time, but also doing so in such a manner that one feels as though they were there.  I observed several people, black and white wiping tears from their eyes.  Nelson Mandela addresses the issues at hand:

        "No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart  than its opposite." 

        "As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be in prison." 

       "There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires" 

        "As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same." 

       The moment I returned to the hostel I was hit with it again by one of the long term residents who said,

       “I saw you walking with your pack today.  Don’t do that, you’ll get mugged!”

       “I didn’t have a choice, I had to have my laptop with me.”

       “Well, just don’t, and don’t ever take a regular cab either.  It won’t be safe for a white woman alone.”   It seemed I wasn’t left with any options.  I had just become imprisoned.

       The next day I took my laptop up the street to the mall anyway, just as I had the day before.  The store was able to sell me the right modem, but said,

       “In order to use this type of equipment, special software must be installed.  You need to take a cab to our Data Care Center and they’ll load it for free.” 

       Oh boy, now what do I do? I decided to go back to the hostel and ask for suggestions on transport.  On my way down the road, I saw the side of a Crowne Plaza Hotel.  I’d stayed at the Crowne many times in New York City.

       Ah ha, I thought, they’ll have safe taxis parked in front of the hotel. They would never let one of their clients get into a cab that wasn’t known to be secure.  I went inside to the extravagant lobby and headed for the concierge desk.

       “Hello. How much would it cost for me to take a taxi to this shopping area?” I showed her the address, “Also, do you think I could ask the driver to wait, because this will only take fifteen minutes.”  I explained what I was trying to accomplish.

     “Well since it’s not going to take long and you want him to stay, I’ll just call our driver.”

       “Oh, thank you.”  She must have thought I was staying there. 

       The driver found me in the sitting area.  He was dressed in a black suit with a tie. Very nice. I picked up my pack and followed him outside to a limousine. (!)  I laughed out loud with disbelief at my security in transportation. He took me to the Data Center, and as I came back out, he was waiting and held the door for me. I felt like a celebrity. He escorted me back in to the sitting area.  After thanking him, I tipped him and walked out the side door, at which time I strolled across the street to my fifteen dollar a night hostel.

Ahh, civilization, and they included a piece of chocolate.
perfect breakfast 

Johannesburg

The tenants, democracy, reconciliation, responsibility,
respect, diversity and freedom

entrance to the museum

I don't think so

Football stadium in Jo-burg built for the World Cup. Whites were upset because
football is a black sport in SA.  Whites play Cricket.