South Africa - ca - ca

My only real first hand glimpse / experience of South Africa before a visit, was through those South African's that I had the fortune to meet – so primarily it was the accent. This is one thing that remained consistent throughout the trip and always gave a sense of comfort, ease and well being. There is something so friendly about the accent, that it almost doesn't matter what is being said, you feel good. I had this feeling from the moment I arrived at Heathrow Airport, and the women at the check out were just as excited as me about my visit (so long as I am not planning to go to Johannesburg, they warned).

So my first stop was cape town, and I am so pleased for the advice, for it became one of the best experiences ever. There is everything that you can image on offer in and around Cape town. The views from Table Mountain or the Water Front where the breeze from across cape town comes up to tingle your neck, to the bottom of the cape where you can feel the warmth of the Indian Ocean caress your toes. Activities, from riding along the beach at sunset along the Cape, to paragliding, bungee jumping, sky diving, swimming with dolphins, surfing at Llandudno, driving along Chapman's Peak Drive , or dancing in tulips. Scenes such as the mass of penguins on Islands off the bay tip, to the colours of Rainbow coloured painted facades of Bo-Kaap or the shades that run across the sky at Camps Bay. Music is varied, rich and proud, from the grandeur of Jazz dazzling in the bars of Cape Town, to the contagious beat of African drums along the streets. Food is wholesome, organic and favoursome. The fresh fruits at breakfast entice the appetite, such that you are eager for the sea fish at lunch and the BBQed meats at dinner. Each restaurant was a very different eating experience, from Licester Hall, to the Havana on the rail tracks, and designer deli's. The sun makes everything glisten, and the sea gives every faces a shine.

Beyond Cape Town a car is a good idea. There is Garden Route to be explored – which runs along the coast line. You can discover some of the best seafood in the world, some of the most secluded and spectacular bays, and one of the real gems of the route is Kysn…where there is the most idyllic lagoon that stretches out before the beach. This makes for a peaceful retreat in private hidden chalets that blend into the Milk Wood trees that they lie under. Further in, there are ostrich farms, historic towns, and rugged wilderness with its own unique flora and fauna to be found inland. All on your path to the not-to-be-missed vineyards at Franshook. This is a scene out of heaven. Vineyards are Dieu Donne; it can only be a gift from God to have a Jacuzzi amongst the flowers, which lies next to a lawn where you can dry off and picnic, before you run into the vineyards to quench thirst! The cabins hidden within the vineyards were exclusive and discrete, and food on offer in the small French restaurants gently scattered over town were exquisite. Further a field in South Africa one can go on Safari, experience the lost Kingdoms of Swaziland and Lesotho, or even visit the Las Vegas of Africa. Either way, time in South Africa is very worthwhile…

One of my most poignant experiences was that of colour. Like never before I was constantly aware of my own colour and that of others. In England I have been bought up Churchdown, a village lying in between Gloucester and Cheltenham. There were very few people of colour in either town let alone in the village, and so at my white school, in amongst my white friends, having white fun, I did not realise that I was any different. I wasn't any different, and apart from some odd instances (such as a little boy tripping me up at school, hurting me a little more than he meant to, in order to see whether the colour of my blood was any different), I was never made to feel any different. In South Africa however, to feel a sense of belonging, difference is all one can see. The whites belong with the whites, the black with the blacks, the coloureds with the coloureds (who are a mix of the black and white), and the Asians with the Asians. I did not expect it to be like this, particularly after apartheid, but it seems that people feel most comfortable with their own, in their own place, own schools, own hang out joins, own environment. It will take a generation at least for things to change and some rather drastic and painful measures are now being put in place.

Under apartheid blacks were not able to leave their town. You needed a special card, giving you permission to travel, without which you were destined to your little town. Blacks were not able to be in the streets after 10pm. Which meant there was no night life, no going out dancing, no late drinking with friends, particularly because blacks were not allowed to drink either! There were black schools, black hospitals, black streets, black everything…so blacks n' whites remain totally separate in every sphere, each with their own pre-designated resources.

Even today the quality of education that blacks received in relation to whites is poor, and at times I found it difficult to understand the ir English. But none-the-less, in order to address this complete imbalance, there are now quotas in place so that blacks are given the jobs that were otherwise restricted. Though in some ways this is a disservice to the country, because the person who gets the job might not necessarily be the one most qualified for it, in a generation or so, some rightful balance will emerge. False opportunities must be created right now, in order to off-set the false restrictions that have been in place for so many years.

The white population of South Africa are experiencing a hard time now. For those with their own business things are somewhat stable, and as long as they fulfil their quota of black and coloured employees, things work well. But young white graduates are finding it difficult to find the type of job that they have been qualified for. If you have a young white South African sportsperson, you might find it difficult to get national funding in comparison to your black counterpart. Approximately 60-80 white doctors leave South Africa every month. So you can imagine at the frustration that the whites are currently experiencing and the resulting drain or loss in society.
The coloured community are interesting, because what is life like if you are neither white nor black in South Africa. Answer: Sometimes good and sometimes bad. They sometimes benefit from the quota system and are sometimes hindered. In general, they were treated preferentially to the blacks during apartheid, but less after apartheid. With everything they always lie somewhere in the middle, and naturally they are resenting the blacks now.

With the Indians it is a little different. Most of the Indians are not directly from India , but have lived in Malaysia or Singapore before had and come to South Africa via trade links. Rather than see themselves as a pawn of apartheid, like the other colour groups, they almost see themselves as being outside of the system. That does not mean that they did not fight against apartheid, many did and were highly involved, but they were not affected to the same degree as the coloureds. Education was very important in the community, which was often apart and separate from the black, white and coloured areas. This meant that when it came to jobs they were preferred and so never suffered as much as the coloureds. So they do not seem themselves as coloured, or white, or black…though they are just as segregated as each of the other groups, even today. Do something as simple as going to a shopping mall, and you will experience how everyone still sit, walk, and eat in their own colour groups. This is comfort they tell me. One day soon, for the up and coming generation there will be assimilation, but not quite yet…

The Whites own some of the world's most spectacular real estate, which is a sharp contrast to the townships (shanty sprawls that surround the towns) that have emerged to house the blacks. It is suggested that one does not even try driving into a township for a fear of what might happen, though I think it is for fear of what you might see, so of course I do. The townships are made up of little more than one bedroom pre-fabricated huts. There maybe a kitchen first, which is often acting as a local shop too, selling home brewed beer, snacks, or other food/drink. The main living space, if available, is often quite public, but this is unlike the bedrooms which are a private and creative space. Wallpaper is expensive, so different cuttings of newspapers/ magazines may be used, and everything is used, creatively reworked, or multi functional. Outside, there is also a constant presence of music, and beer shacks flourish. There is very little employment available in the townships, and it definitely feels like they are the communities surrounding every town, that the government has often. Nothing is proper – not the infrastructure such as the streets, not the schools, not even wiring for the public telephone centres. In every case, people have had to be inventive, and create whatever they need. The only public service that is pervasive is the police. If the education, medicine, and social services were as present, because then maybe police would not need to crawl. It is not a pleasant place to be for anyone. There is a very real sense of these communities being forgotten and left to rot, and as a result there is lots of frustration, which I saw unleashed on a vulnerable victim before my own eyes. For example, the violence that I saw between a group of boys, of no more than 15 years old, was more bloody than I have ever seen in real life, and all because one boy looked at the girlfriend of a different boy, in a way that apparently deserved him being knocked out. There was a lot of anger in the air on all sides, even from those that did not even know who the two boys were – got involved. Teenagers hang around in threatening gangs, mothers are struggling with little ones and very basic resources, and fathers – I saw very few. I met the local shamen, who in this case was too drunk to be a guide or aid, but even he was not out of reach of the only thing in common between the town and townships – telecom, coco cola, and beer advertising! Red and Black booths that advertise and sell all three to youths who are happy to get drunk and then are easily drawn into spending silly amounts of money on long distant phone calls, chat-lines and games.

My own experience of assimilation (or rather the lack of it) actually came some minutes before I visited the township. I was on my way with some black friends (I do not normally mention colour, but we are in South Africa – I hope I haven't offended) to visit the township for a story, when I asked for the nearest internet café in order to check my brief. At the time I was driving through the black part of the town (which is where the well employed blacks live, others live on white farmlands, and the remainder in townships), and my friends told me that there was no such service on offer, and that no one would have the internet in their home. This is one example of inequality right there – in the black areas of town, there is no access to one of the most valuable tools of our time – the internet. So my friends suggest that I drive over to the white area, where almost every house has internet, and so there is no need for internet cafes. 'Worry not', says my mate, 'I have a white friend who is the doctor of the local area, and he has been ever so kind to me on numerous occasions, I am sure if we stop by his home, we can briefly use his PC, ' and so off we go.

As we go close to the white area the difference in living is marked. The streets are maintained by the local authority, the local shops sell flowers, foreign brands, and traditional country pottery – there are no such luxuries available on the black side of town. The houses become bigger and bigger, and are protected by high walls, barbed wire, and numerous guard dogs. At the doctors home, which is fortified by a high brick wall which was a good feet higher than my head, I did find a button and speaker which was placed at eye level. I pressed the button and immediately a screen came on which showed me my own image, peering into a very discreet and well placed camera. A ladies voice boomed out of a speaker next to the screen. It was the doctor's wife I was told. 'Hello? Can I help you?' she asked. She could see me clearly, but I could not see her. This screening system was not very mutually interactive;-) 'Hello, yes, I hope so.' I said, in my politest manner, which sometimes can be polite in fact, thanks;-) 'Is Dr Breamar in Please?' She responds with a sharp no. 'Ah, well the reason I ask is because Robert here, who is a good friend of Dr Breamar, tells me that we may have hope of checking something very quickly upon the internet here. We have driven right across town looking for an internet café, with no success.'
'Oh, I see', she replies. 'It would be different if my husband were here, but it is only I and the servants at home, and so it becomes a little difficult'.
'Ah,' (here's me naively thinking that this has nothing to do with big 'ole scary me), 'Only I would come in, if that is your concern.'
'I know that', she says, in a very manner of fact kind of way. 'But you see, our study is right at the back of the house' (this was a huge three story place), 'which means that you would have to walk through the whole house, and I just wouldn't feel comfortable in you doing that'.

Wow. Never before have I been so mistrusted right off. That was a clear sign saying clear off, because the possibility that you might steal something is too great for you to be near me. I couldn't believe the insult and put it down to one very rude and distrusting person, indeed.

My friend felt as bad as I did, and suggested that we go to a neighbouring local business of renting out cottages, and houses, which he knew had internet, and were much used to foreign people. As we drove up to the house, which was only one street along, and stepped out of the car. I knew immediately that this was not going to go well. At least four guard dogs were at my feet – for they had practically squeezed their whole face through the gate. I didn't even want to go as close as pressing the intercom button, and I know that this sounds extreme, but you really had to be there to feel the fear. The lady of the house could tell that someone was near (the point of the dogs I guess), and asked who it was. I again explained that I was from out of town and my predicament. This lady was umpteen times more welcoming than the last, it felt, as she happily opened the gate to allow the guard dogs to come out and attack me, if I hadn't immediately leapt into the car to drive down her driveway.

When I finally reach her place, which is down a winding narrow path along which all the guard dogs are competing to jump up to the car and scratch us through the windscreen window – I find that there is another intercom system at her door. I decide to ignore it, because the dogs were not permitting a lengthy conversation standing outside, and knock on her door. It wasn't worth waiting for her to open the door, so I sat in the car which was parked right in front of the door, until she emerged, else I could have been eaten alive – I promise you!

So when she finally does emerge, it is not even at the door. She only pops her face through the window to check me out! I found out that she was actually worse that the last lady. She had put me through terror, and my one leg was still suffering a spasm because of the reaction to the blood curdling dogs, only to pop her pretty little, fragile head out of her window on the second floor, take one look down at me, and tell me that regrettably the internet was not working at the moment. I looked at her, a little perplexed, and a little confused? So why exactly could she have not said this over the intercom system if this had been the case? 'So sorry', she said as she smiled a little too happily and watched me struggle to reverse back up her narrow winding, so as not to disturb the hoard of doors that had now collected at her doorstep.

Now my friend was almost embarrassed, though he did not have to be, and explained that he did not think that I would get the same treatment as him, being a coloured foreigner. To just be treated like this for one day really knocks o nes' sense of self esteem and belief in the world, promise and mankind. How does he handle this everyday?

The answer is that you did not have a choice. Either you dealt with it and did your best within the given parameters of injustice and inequality, or you were imprisoned. Those who spoke out, and there were many political figures and others who did, including Mr Nelson Mandela, were imprisoned. Whilst we walked across Robben Island, which is where all the most notorious prisoners were kept and asked to move x rock to y location, and then the y rock to the x location, for no reason I was told that even my friend and I would have been arrested. Actually, my friend, being a slightly darker complexion to me would have been arrested for having the audacity to walk around with me. That is how defining colour was in apartheid. Though my friend and I are actually both of the same ethnic origin, we do look quite different, and therefore, during apartheid, no questions asked, we would have been submitted to very different treatments.

So I asked other Indians, who were living in South Africa, under apartheid, whether they had experienced a similar thing to my friend and I. I spoke to a real mix of Asians, who appeared to be very comfortable with their history. One man very generously told me that he was a product of a rape. His grandmother had migrated from India for employment reasons, moved through Malaysia , Singapore, and then across to South Africa. It was here that she experienced a form of slavery, and was treated at her master's disposal. So how was he treated? Like a coloured, but he would act black, because he did not want to be associated with the whites. Other Indians however, would utilise the power of education so that they would be in such high demand to perform in technical jobs, that they could not they could not then be part of the black or white system. But ultimately, the actual shade of your colour determines how you are treated day by day, as soon as you step outside of your own front door. Your experience may not be the same as your brother or sister, depending upon the depth of colour of your brown skin.

Quickly one realises how everything is now in shades of grey in South Africa. Things can not be black and white any longer, because the whole original system has been flipped upside down. So now life in South Africa depends upon your individual experience of the varying degrees of the grey rainbow that still pervades the psyche on the street.