On our first day in Cape Town, we hired a driver to spend the day with us. Jerry Mathews arrived promptly at 9 and was worth every Rand we spent. Like Bangladesh, Vietnam, and anywhere else where we have done this, the running commentary of the guide and the ability to ask almost any question is invaluable. You can get to all the tourist attractions on your own but what you can’t get is any real insight without traveling with a local willing to share his or her story.
Jerry was born in a black township and grew up with Apartheid. He carried the dreaded Passbook every day of his early life. In 1994, he was 18 when Blacks and Coloreds got the right to vote and Jerry, along with 17 million other Blacks, voted Nelson Mandela President. His last name alone is a lesson in history. Hoping to be classified as a Colored instead of a Black, Jerry’s grandfather changed his name when moving to Cape Town as a young man. As a Colored, you had more freedom to choose where you lived.
Our primary attraction for our day’s tour was the Cape of Good Hope. Here the Indian and the Atlantic oceans meet (though not technically, it turns out). Along the way, we stopped at an ostrich farm, a breeding ground for the African penguin (endangered, of course), Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens (World Heritage site) at the base of Table Mountain, and a township.
Paul Theroux writes about the fact that townships have now been added to the list of “must sees” for tourists coming to South Africa. If you have ever read Theroux you can imagine that he does not view these visits as anything but bizarre at best and exploitive at their worst. Visiting a township was a possibility but not something that we generally cared to do for the very same reasons Theroux didn’t want to.
Yet, it was the first stop Jerry made that day without even asking us if we wanted to go. We didn’t get out of the car but instead, he stopped on one of the roads (dirt paths that are slightly wider and crisscross this way and that) and talked about S.A townships for close to 45 minutes. It was an opportunity that I am thankful we did not miss. Jerry felt it his obligation to educate us about townships—not how bad they were or are—but instead, he wanted us to understand in the limited time we had, the complicated social structure that exists. He talked about how they are morphing into “suburbs” now and are horribly impacted as new people leave the rural areas for opportunities in the cities. And finally, Jerry talked about why he still chooses to live in the township where he was born.
South Africa is a complex nation still reeling from 45 plus years of Apartheid. For Jerry and those older who grew up under the old regime, their early education was not equal to Whites, and Blacks today suffer the consequences of that. They are not as prepared to assume positions of leadership in today’s Rainbow Nation. Jerry takes a very active role in mentoring the young men in his township and follows the creed of “Each One, Teach One”. The townships are desperately short of teachers. When he asked what we all did for a living and I mentioned that I had taught math, he immediately, and not altogether joking, asked me to stay and teach. I would hear this again later when visiting my old village of Mochudi.
We didn’t get out of the truck or take photos. Instead, we just sat talking about the complications of living in South Africa before and now and watched people come and go in the rain.
Later, when we got to the Gardens first created by Cecil Rhodes (a prominent figure in early southern Africa discovery and for whom Rhodesia was named), Jerry was still moved by the fact that as a Black he was not allowed to visit the Gardens until Nelson Mandela was President. “Can you imagine a place so beautiful and rich in history in your own country yet, you are not allowed to even visit?” We stood briefly underneath the fig tree that Nelson Mandela planted after his freedom—virtually the only people in the garden that rainy afternoon.
How can one know the story of South Africa and not be moved to tears?
