Johannesburg part 1-Soweto

Hello all!
There is so much to say! This weekend I went to Johannesburg and it was an unbelievable experience. Did I have the money to do this? Only somewhat. However, going broke to see Soweto and the apartheid museum was completely worth it. Rice and beans for the week for me! Haha :)

We flew in on Friday night and stayed in our very posh hotel (which we got a great deal for!) called the Protea Balalaika in a very fancy area of Johannesburg (or known fondly by South Africans as Joburg). We were starving when we arrived because our flight was delayed a few hours, so for the first time in my memory, we ordered room service. We went all out and got a very snazzy snack-basket, complete with silver platter. It was really fun and we fell asleep eating French fries, laughing ourselves silly over the fact that we were in Joburg, and drinking delicious local wine. Khadjia and I have decided that the beds at this hotel surpass any other we have ever slept in (or at least it seemed like this because of how uncomfortable the beds are at Hippo Hide). We had called before we left to book a tour of Soweto with a tour company recommended by our lovely supervisor, Jacqui. She is the most adorable little woman (she is very petite and she has a gorgeous British accent and she always hugs and kisses everyone and calls people ‘Daaah-ling’ which I think is HILARIOUS!) Forgive my run-on sentences, it’s too early in the morning for me to write coherently.

Anyway, Saturday morning we woke up fairly early and went down to the amazing continental breakfast included with our hotel. The buffet was probably the best one I have ever seen. I admit, my judgment may have been clouded by my steadfast dedication to oatmeal for breakfast for the past several weeks, but I doubt it :) Everything you can imagine, including fresh locally grown fruit such as papaya (known locally as ‘pawpaw’ like in the Jungle Book!), smoked salmon, delicious croissants, and best of all, REAL COFFEE! Hallelujah, coffee that is not instant! It was wonderful.

Our tour guide then met us at the hotel and took us for our tour of Soweto. Soweto stands for South Western Township and it was created by the apartheid government to house the cheap black labourers who had lived previously in Joburg where they worked as miners in the gold and diamond mines or as labourers in factories. It is absolutely massive-there are about 6 million people living there. Though I consider myself to be well educated against the stereotypes one has about Africa, I find that I still get caught up in them every once and a while. For example, I expected all of Soweto to be like a slum. A slum (also known as a shantytown or a flavella, or more academically it is called an ‘informal settlement’) is an area where people live in tin shacks with corrugated iron for the roofs, sometimes tarps to keep out the water and to protect against lightning, and no electricity or running water. These houses are often packed really close together and people string their laundry lines between the shacks. I have seen several of them since I got to South Africa-we flew over a particularly famous one in Cape Town named Kayahletsha (pronounce KY-A-LEE-TSHA) and every day when we take the shuttle to our placement, we drive past one. Soweto is actually comprised of 6 different suburbs and it has people of all classes. For example, we saw some quite large houses in the upper class district, including the home of Nobel Peace Prize laureate Desmond Tutu (an Anglican archbishop who is so smiley and cute!) and Mandela’s house which he lived in prior to his arrest.

Our first stop was at the edge of Soweto at one of the upper class areas where professionals live. It was pretty uneventful and we spent 2 minutes outside of the car with the guide taking pictures under the sign that said “Welcome to Soweto”. Then we got back into the car and within five minutes it was like we had entered a different world. This was more like what I had imagined. Shacks everywhere, people walking along the edges of the highway, women carrying things on their heads, and people selling fruits and veggies on the side of the road. The guide pulled into one part where there were several other tour buses and told us that it was quite safe and that if we wanted, we could get out and there was a local man affiliated with the tour company who would show us around. This obviously was the opportunity I have been waiting for since I got to South Africa so I barely let him finish his sentence before jumping out of the car. Our guide for the informal settlement was named “Amandla” which means “power” in isiZulu (a word used commonly in the struggle against apartheid). He was very warm and was really excited about meeting two girls from Canada. He took us down a broad path in the centre of the settlement where we were followed by a parade of curious children of all ages. I had a little boy who was ten take a shining to me and he talked with me about school and wanting to become a policeman. Unfortunately, a lot of these kids have been taught to ask for money, which is what he ended up doing at the end. We have been told by countless guides not to give money to people who ask, especially kids. It broke my heart, but I had to say no. After the boy left, looking rather dejected, Amandla told me that I had done the right thing because once kids realize they can make money from begging, they stop going to school a lot of the time. The reality of this situation sucked. Rejecting a need from a child is probably the hardest thing I will ever have to do, even if it is the right thing.

We were taken into a yard of a lovely old lady who opened her home to us. She was a grandmother with a family of seven who all share her tiny tin shack. Inside there was one bed, a stove, a paraffin lamp and a cabinet. It was about 8 feet deep and 6 feet wide. I have obviously been preparing myself for this, but nothing can really prepare you for that kind of reality. Here I am, staying in a beautiful five star hotel and staying in a room three times the size of this woman’s house. But her and Amandla said something really interesting to me. They said that money was not the key to their happiness and it was through their poverty that they were able to form such a close-knit community. These people do not want my pity, they want life. And it seems that in some senses, they have life figured out a lot better than we do in the West. If someone is hungry here, they go to their neighbour’s and ask for food and there will always be someone to care for them. Children are raised by the community and everyone knows each other’s names. A loss or a hardship is felt by the whole community, as is a success. She allowed us to ask her our questions about her family and how she makes ends meet (to which she said ‘God only knows’). As we left, she gave us each a warm hug and thanked US for coming to her home. Dij and I gave her 50 rand when we left (less than $10 CAD) because we knew that she would be using this money to feed her family and help the community. I feel like I will not be able to explain to you how touching this experience was for me. It was like seeing the physical manifestation of love and compassion and warmth. All I can say is that you all must come to South Africa some day with me.

Next stop was the Hector Peterson museum on Vilikazi street. Soweto (as I think I said before) was a major centre for protest against the apartheid regime and Vilikazi street was the nucleus of this. Thousands of students gathered on Vilikazi street on June 16th, 1976 to protest the teaching of Afrikaans in ‘Bantu’ schools (Afrikaans is the language of the whites while blacks have several different languages they speak, though education was previously taught in English). The children were aged 8 to 18. They planned on marching to the board of education to show their protest, make their point by standing outside, and then leaving. However, on their way they were met by policemen. As the children got closer, the police hurled a few rocks at them to try and make them disperse. It is unclear whether some children through rocks back. Suddenly, one of the policemen lost his cool and opened fire on the crowds. 600 children were killed, most of them shot in the back while fleeing the police. There is a very famous picture which is in a book we have at home (which has always saddened me, long before I knew about South Africa in this book about the 21st century in pictures) where a boy is running, carrying another boy and there is a girl beside him, also running and her mouth is open in anguish. The boy who is being carried is bleeding. His name is Hector Peterson and he was the first child shot. He died that day. The boy carrying him is named Mbuyisa and the girl beside is Hector’s sister. This picture was circulated throughout the world and became the symbol of the terrible oppressiveness of the apartheid regime and sparked the beginning of a wave of international condemnation. I would be the first to say that I know a lot about apartheid. I know a lot about oppression too (I feel sometimes like that is what I specialize in). But it is a whole new thing to really SEE this-a picture of a child slaughtered for wanting to learn in English. It was hard but beautiful at the same time-to see the bravery of these kids who are sick of being oppressed and just did what they felt was right to fight against it. This sparked the beginning of the end of apartheid as the apartheid regime as P. W. Botha declared a state of emergency and expanded the oppression like never before. He was met with a massive wave of protests and strikes. People were tired of it. I love that. And eventually, things got so bad that he had to change things or be faced with civil war (in which he was sure to lose).

So, that was the end of our Soweto tour, which challenged me in many ways. Like I said, totally worth flying to Joburg for.

Something awesome just happened! Alan Whiteside just came in and invited Khadija and I to a braai that all the people from work are having! A braai is something like a mix between a barbeque and a party. It is a very South African tradition and Dij and I have been wanting to got to one since we arrived. It’s going to be at this swanky place called Sica’s Guest house (see my facebook for the link if you’re curious). Yaaay!

I will post about the apartheid museum and the rest of my visit to Joburg later.

Love Heather