I’m sitting here on our last day in South Africa and Mike and I have been brainstorming a list of funny, interesting, sad and amusing bits and pieces from our month here.
Firstly, something that you simply cannot escape in this country are the dark bubbling undertones of race relations. For every glass of wine you sink on a sun drenched terrace overlooking a knock-out view, there is a glimpse from a car window of another South Africa where the vast majority of black people visibly live from hand to mouth.
On many occasions as we sat in a restaurant amongst white people being waited on exclusively by black people we felt a twinge of discomfort. It was all too reminiscent of photos my grandfather has shown me of life in India in the 1940’s where the British sat on terraces sipping G&T’s while their Indian servants beavered away around them. We keep commenting on how clean and freshly painted everything is here and how fantastic the service is in cafes and restaurants, but you cannot ignore the fact that that’s because labour is comparatively cheap and in plentiful supply.
I mentioned the townships in Cape Town, and this is something I have seen on the edges of many cities across the world but what I haven’t mentioned is that every town has a township however small or rural it is. In the rural areas black people hitch hike on every crossroads yet we rarely, if ever, saw a white person on foot. Until I got to Johannesburg not once did I see a black person sitting on the next table to us in a restaurant, or a black person in a fancy car, or in a suit, or owning a restaurant or guest house, or a mixed-race couple, or black and white children or teenagers hanging out together.
Of course we don’t know the whole story, and it is all too easy to jump to melodramatic and erroneous conclusions as a tourist, so we have both been trying to ask people along the way to explain what we have seen. The sound bites we have captured are by no means the whole picture, but I can give you the same pieces of the jigsaw that we have after one month.
In Cape Town the guy running the hostel we stayed at was chatting to an American girl at the bar who was criticising his racist approach. The basic gist of the conversation was “if you lived here long enough, you’d be a racist too because black people commit all the crime in South Africa”.
In Stellenbosch an Afrikaner bar man told us that he has a black girlfriend. “I was a total racist til I met her – my Dad was in the police so I grew up thinking that way. Then I met her, fell in love and I think differently.” I asked whether there were any other mixed race couples in the town, which houses a large university. “Yeah, three couples” he said, “everyone stares at us”.
At a guest house I asked the landlord whether there was a minimum wage in South Africa. He seemed hazy on the subject but said that that he thought there were different minimum wages for different industry sectors. He followed up with “but we pay our maid way over the odds, so it doesn’t matter so much. She gets 350 rand a week from us.” That’s £25 a week for a full time job. Staying a night in his guest house cost the same.
I asked a waitress in a restaurant where she was from as she didn’t have a South African accent. “I am from Zimbabwe” she replied. I asked where the other waiters were from. “Two from the DRC, two from Mozambique, three from Zambia, one from Zimbabwe”. I asked when she came here and she said just a year ago. I asked her what she thought about the news that day that Zuma would be the new president. She said that she would wait and see as she had learnt herself that everything can change in an instant. “I tell people here, I did not choose what happened in my country, I did not want to leave, everything can change at any time.” And then she hurried away. A stark reminder that the recent race riots in the country were black on black – black South Africans against black economic migrants from neighbouring countries all fighting for the same piece of a meagre pie.
Mike and I were listening to SAfm one day and a section called “children's corner” was aired. It was an interview with two Zimbabwean children living in South Africa. Questions covered were “why do you like South Africa?” and “what do you think of Mugabe?”. The replies were along the lines of “we love South Africa” and “Mugabe is a bad man”. It was a very blatant attempt to build understanding amongst South Africans and Zimbabweans but it sounded a bit like propaganda and was woefully simplistic.
Whilst washing up in a camp site in Kruger a middle-aged woman chatted to me about her sons and daughters. “Both my sons have finished college but of course it will be difficult for them to get jobs now because of the pro-black employment policies” she said, referring to the government’s Black Economic Empowerment policy of positive discrimination which has not been well received by everyone.
To add a flicker of light to this depressing story, finishing in Johannesburg you can see a different picture. In Soweto, the mother of all townships and the centre of the anti-apartheid movement, the guide books tell you that some areas are decidedly middle class these days. When I went to Malcolm’s office half of his colleagues are black South Africans. In a coffee shop this morning and a restaurant last night you could have been in London in terms of the tables of every race sitting together.
We went to the apartheid museum today and this was an excellent way to end our time here and to reflect on what we have seen. When you scrutinise South Africa’s history it has been a huge achievement for it to even remain a country at all, so although there is a long way to go there is a lot to celebrate too. Hats off to Mandela et al.
And now for the funny bits…
Robots
For our first weeks every time we asked for directions people would tell us “keep going until you get to the third robot, then turn right”, or “it’s just on the corner by the robot”. Mike and I were in the dark about what on earth these were, not having seen any noticeable darleks on the side on the road. Eventually the light dawned – they are traffic lights.
Car wash
UK car wash: a man in Tesco’s car park flicks your windscreen wipers up, chucks a bucket of grimy water over your car and charges you £5.
South African car wash: two men roll up their sleeves and set to work, scrubbing, buffing, rinsing. The minutes tick by. The hoover comes out and no crease is left unexploited. Then the second man set to work with a paintbrush, easing the dust from the dials on the dashboard and the crevices on the panelling. The whole job takes about forty minutes and they charge you £2.50. They even found a banana in our car. Don't ask.
Maps
We purchased “South Africa’s Number 1 Road Map”. We got lost. Roads that appeared on the map didn’t exist, but other roads did and were jolly nice thank you very much. Sections of road that looked quite short lasted for ever and others that looked like they would take upwards of an hour flashed by in thirty minutes. We drove all the way to the border with Lesotho without actually seeing any signs for Lesotho until a sign within sight of the border gate helpfully pointed it out to us. A sign on the road to Addo said ‘Addo, 5km’ and 300m later another sign said ‘Addo’. We learned to roll with it.
Road works
A man stands in the road waving a red flag, you slow down, he waves it harder, you stop, he waves it some more, you edge slowly forward with a questioning expression on your face, he carries on waving and you pass by and continue cautiously – he meant for you to carry on.
You meet another man waving a red flag, you slow down but carry on, he waves frantically – he meant for you to stop.
We learned not to roll with it for fear of our lives – confusing as all hell.
Cash shops
You enter the shop and all of the produce, the till and the proprietor are behind metal bars. You can walk around the shop and see the produce but to get it to it you have to ask the guy to get everything together for you, and to pay him you have to put your arms through the bars. It’s a bit like buying food from an inmate.
Braai
It is a mystery to me how Australians have the reputation in the UK for being the BBQ nation because I reckon the South Africans can give them a run for their money, and then some. The country is obsessed with charcoal and meat! In Kruger we didn’t see anyone cook by any other means. We were lucky enough to be here for Braai day…. Braai day? That’s EVERY day!
Overall we have loved South Africa - the scenery, the food, the wildlife, the walks. Because of the contrast between the beauty and the problems here we have been made to think rather than just relax and enjoy ourselves and our experience has been the better for it. It is an amazing and fascinating country and without doubt the turmoil of the past is not yet wholly in the past. Even today the news has been all about splinter groups within the ANC. We will watch with interest.
Tomorrow, Tanzania and two weeks as leaders on a Fulcrum Challenge....
Firstly, something that you simply cannot escape in this country are the dark bubbling undertones of race relations. For every glass of wine you sink on a sun drenched terrace overlooking a knock-out view, there is a glimpse from a car window of another South Africa where the vast majority of black people visibly live from hand to mouth.
On many occasions as we sat in a restaurant amongst white people being waited on exclusively by black people we felt a twinge of discomfort. It was all too reminiscent of photos my grandfather has shown me of life in India in the 1940’s where the British sat on terraces sipping G&T’s while their Indian servants beavered away around them. We keep commenting on how clean and freshly painted everything is here and how fantastic the service is in cafes and restaurants, but you cannot ignore the fact that that’s because labour is comparatively cheap and in plentiful supply.
I mentioned the townships in Cape Town, and this is something I have seen on the edges of many cities across the world but what I haven’t mentioned is that every town has a township however small or rural it is. In the rural areas black people hitch hike on every crossroads yet we rarely, if ever, saw a white person on foot. Until I got to Johannesburg not once did I see a black person sitting on the next table to us in a restaurant, or a black person in a fancy car, or in a suit, or owning a restaurant or guest house, or a mixed-race couple, or black and white children or teenagers hanging out together.
Of course we don’t know the whole story, and it is all too easy to jump to melodramatic and erroneous conclusions as a tourist, so we have both been trying to ask people along the way to explain what we have seen. The sound bites we have captured are by no means the whole picture, but I can give you the same pieces of the jigsaw that we have after one month.
In Cape Town the guy running the hostel we stayed at was chatting to an American girl at the bar who was criticising his racist approach. The basic gist of the conversation was “if you lived here long enough, you’d be a racist too because black people commit all the crime in South Africa”.
In Stellenbosch an Afrikaner bar man told us that he has a black girlfriend. “I was a total racist til I met her – my Dad was in the police so I grew up thinking that way. Then I met her, fell in love and I think differently.” I asked whether there were any other mixed race couples in the town, which houses a large university. “Yeah, three couples” he said, “everyone stares at us”.
At a guest house I asked the landlord whether there was a minimum wage in South Africa. He seemed hazy on the subject but said that that he thought there were different minimum wages for different industry sectors. He followed up with “but we pay our maid way over the odds, so it doesn’t matter so much. She gets 350 rand a week from us.” That’s £25 a week for a full time job. Staying a night in his guest house cost the same.
I asked a waitress in a restaurant where she was from as she didn’t have a South African accent. “I am from Zimbabwe” she replied. I asked where the other waiters were from. “Two from the DRC, two from Mozambique, three from Zambia, one from Zimbabwe”. I asked when she came here and she said just a year ago. I asked her what she thought about the news that day that Zuma would be the new president. She said that she would wait and see as she had learnt herself that everything can change in an instant. “I tell people here, I did not choose what happened in my country, I did not want to leave, everything can change at any time.” And then she hurried away. A stark reminder that the recent race riots in the country were black on black – black South Africans against black economic migrants from neighbouring countries all fighting for the same piece of a meagre pie.
Mike and I were listening to SAfm one day and a section called “children's corner” was aired. It was an interview with two Zimbabwean children living in South Africa. Questions covered were “why do you like South Africa?” and “what do you think of Mugabe?”. The replies were along the lines of “we love South Africa” and “Mugabe is a bad man”. It was a very blatant attempt to build understanding amongst South Africans and Zimbabweans but it sounded a bit like propaganda and was woefully simplistic.
Whilst washing up in a camp site in Kruger a middle-aged woman chatted to me about her sons and daughters. “Both my sons have finished college but of course it will be difficult for them to get jobs now because of the pro-black employment policies” she said, referring to the government’s Black Economic Empowerment policy of positive discrimination which has not been well received by everyone.
To add a flicker of light to this depressing story, finishing in Johannesburg you can see a different picture. In Soweto, the mother of all townships and the centre of the anti-apartheid movement, the guide books tell you that some areas are decidedly middle class these days. When I went to Malcolm’s office half of his colleagues are black South Africans. In a coffee shop this morning and a restaurant last night you could have been in London in terms of the tables of every race sitting together.
We went to the apartheid museum today and this was an excellent way to end our time here and to reflect on what we have seen. When you scrutinise South Africa’s history it has been a huge achievement for it to even remain a country at all, so although there is a long way to go there is a lot to celebrate too. Hats off to Mandela et al.
And now for the funny bits…
Robots
For our first weeks every time we asked for directions people would tell us “keep going until you get to the third robot, then turn right”, or “it’s just on the corner by the robot”. Mike and I were in the dark about what on earth these were, not having seen any noticeable darleks on the side on the road. Eventually the light dawned – they are traffic lights.
Car wash
UK car wash: a man in Tesco’s car park flicks your windscreen wipers up, chucks a bucket of grimy water over your car and charges you £5.
South African car wash: two men roll up their sleeves and set to work, scrubbing, buffing, rinsing. The minutes tick by. The hoover comes out and no crease is left unexploited. Then the second man set to work with a paintbrush, easing the dust from the dials on the dashboard and the crevices on the panelling. The whole job takes about forty minutes and they charge you £2.50. They even found a banana in our car. Don't ask.
Maps
We purchased “South Africa’s Number 1 Road Map”. We got lost. Roads that appeared on the map didn’t exist, but other roads did and were jolly nice thank you very much. Sections of road that looked quite short lasted for ever and others that looked like they would take upwards of an hour flashed by in thirty minutes. We drove all the way to the border with Lesotho without actually seeing any signs for Lesotho until a sign within sight of the border gate helpfully pointed it out to us. A sign on the road to Addo said ‘Addo, 5km’ and 300m later another sign said ‘Addo’. We learned to roll with it.
Road works
A man stands in the road waving a red flag, you slow down, he waves it harder, you stop, he waves it some more, you edge slowly forward with a questioning expression on your face, he carries on waving and you pass by and continue cautiously – he meant for you to carry on.
You meet another man waving a red flag, you slow down but carry on, he waves frantically – he meant for you to stop.
We learned not to roll with it for fear of our lives – confusing as all hell.
Cash shops
You enter the shop and all of the produce, the till and the proprietor are behind metal bars. You can walk around the shop and see the produce but to get it to it you have to ask the guy to get everything together for you, and to pay him you have to put your arms through the bars. It’s a bit like buying food from an inmate.
Braai
It is a mystery to me how Australians have the reputation in the UK for being the BBQ nation because I reckon the South Africans can give them a run for their money, and then some. The country is obsessed with charcoal and meat! In Kruger we didn’t see anyone cook by any other means. We were lucky enough to be here for Braai day…. Braai day? That’s EVERY day!
Overall we have loved South Africa - the scenery, the food, the wildlife, the walks. Because of the contrast between the beauty and the problems here we have been made to think rather than just relax and enjoy ourselves and our experience has been the better for it. It is an amazing and fascinating country and without doubt the turmoil of the past is not yet wholly in the past. Even today the news has been all about splinter groups within the ANC. We will watch with interest.
Tomorrow, Tanzania and two weeks as leaders on a Fulcrum Challenge....
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1 comment:
Hi Mike and Sarah, it's soph and biag here. Great to hear from you via our blog, glad you liked the random musings! We can't believe SA seems so long ago, have to say our wine tour in Stellenbosch was deffo the most drunk we've been all trip and a lot of fun too. Loved reading all the updates from SA and Lesotho, sounds like you had some amazing animal adventures too! Hope the trip is still as fantastic as ever and you enjoy everything still to come. Our email address is prmarcomms@aol.com if you fancy keeping in touch and meeting up for a beer to reminisce about SA when we're back in London. Look forward to your next update, enjoy and take care, soph and bxx
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