Concluding South Africa
I left South Africa just
over two weeks ago, but there is at least one last blog I needed to write about
my visit to this amazing country. Though I was there for 25 nights, I was quite
busy with work-related issues that there was very little time to do anything
about discovering the country.
It was my third
weekend before I made it to Cape Town and then I extended my stay in South
Africa to allow for me to do the needful in Johannesburg.
On my first visit in
May, I had done the basic bus tour stopping at the Apartheid Museum and
the Constitutional Court, the option to go to Soweto was declined because we
had to change from a double-decker bus to van, giving the impression we were
about to visit a rather dangerous area.
Contemplating Soweto
You form so many
impressions about Soweto and it is very likely that the township idea comes
across as shanty towns, slums, rundown crime-ridden inner-city chaos that would
endanger the bravest of angels.
I was determined this
time to visit Soweto and see
things for myself, I felt I had much more to gain by joining one of the more
professional tour arrangements and with that having printed out my ticket, I
made for the stop where I could board the Soweto
tour bus. This was at Gold
Reef City which was one of the first gold mines in South Africa before it
has been transformed into an amusement park, museum and dangerously, a casino
with hundreds of one-armed bandits.
A place that once
brought money that was the stuff of dreams now takes hold of dreams of making
money from the many whose dreams are a constant suspense and excitement of
almost but never getting fulfilled. Yet, I could not help but notice the ‘gun
drop’, a kind of left luggage section for guns just before you enter the
casino, make of that what you may.
The first sights
I boarded the first
tour bus to Soweto and sat in the front with the driver Thabo, unlike the
recorded playbacks of the double-decker city sightseeing bus, we had a personal
guide to inform us about the tour. Our group comprised people mainly South
African residents, but from countries are far away as China and Japan, the
Japanese man lived in Durban.
Stopping first at
Soccer City or the FNB
Stadium, we took pictures and the edifice loomed as a big calabash
celebrating Umqombothi
beer and bringing back memories of the hit single by Yvonne Chaka Chaka.
Driving past the mine
dumps which are a legacy of mining, Apartheid and toxic materials being
exposed again with technological developments allowing for the dumps to be re-mined
for gold. The more sinister view of the mine dumps was how it completely
obscures Soweto from Johannesburg and vice versa.
A revelation
At the main road
leading into Soweto which is a contraption of South Western Townships, I stood at the main sign and
then learnt depending on you ask that Soweto is an agglomeration of over 85
townships, though about 34 are distinctly identified suburbs of Soweto.
Soweto is huge and
vibrant, its architecture covers all strata of means, from the very upmarket
parts of Diepkloof through the middle-class areas to the matchbox houses,
shanty towns and shacks, and this was a revelation in itself.
The Chris Hani
Baragwanath Hospital which was one time the world’s largest hospital
complex, now the third, scale is sometimes towards the superlative in Soweto,
the Bara Taxi Park is the largest in Johannesburg, the Orlando Towers are the
cooling towers of a now defunct power station, all colourful and the site of
social events including bungee jumping.
The memories and memorials
On to Hector Pieterson
Memorial and Museum, the iconic photograph that signalled the beginning of the
decline of Apartheid, the Soweto Uprisings and other
stories with undertones rarely voiced. Suffice it to say many children of the
chief agitators that sent people onto the streets had their kids in schools
abroad, but let us not sour a well-crafted narrative for point-scoring.
Apartheid was rotten, it needed to end.
Vilakazi
Street which spots the old residences of Nelson Mandela and the Archbishop Desmond Tutu
maintains a historical significance in the work these men did towards achieving
black majority rule, yet this street is a commercial haven that has lost the
solemnity and seriousness of the works of these great Nobel Peace prize
laureates.
Everyone is here for
a quick buck, performers organised and disorganised, photographers with instant
print machines, shops with kitschy tat that could in the haze of tourist awe
look valuably commemorative as souvenirs and much else, you are almost jostled
out of appreciation of these landmarks.
I cry too for change
Yet, one cannot fail
to see how what has been bequeathed is being squandered by the political heirs
who now hold power. As we left Soweto, I prayed a little prayer that the
promise that South Africa offered to those who suffered and still suffer soon
become their reality. My fear of Soweto, put to one side, yet palpable from the
obvious gaps between the have-yachts, the haves and the have-nots.
To the outsider that
I am, there is much about this great land that leaves one with the story of Cry, the Beloved
Country.
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