First Explorations in South Africa - Soweto & Joburg

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I was truly exhausted last night and yet didn't actually fall asleep until about 3am. Maybe it's just being here, maybe it's jet lag. Regardless, morning came quickly. And despite my eagerness for the bike tour of Soweto, crawling out of bed was no small task. Strong, hot shower and strong, hot coffee, and I was good to go.

We drove around the outskirts of Joburg (that's local speak for Johannesburg...that and "Jobi, I'm told) and eventually into the section of Soweto called "Orlando West" (nothing to do with Disney...named after someone...shoot, don't remember who he was...sorry). We found the Backpacker's Hostel, paid for the tour, and joined our fellow travelers in selecting and testing out bikes. After our guide, NK, did introductions and the safety thing, we headed off.

We rode down the road - blacktop and dirt - came to an intersection but rather than turn left or right on the paved road, we headed straight into what vaguely resembled a fairground entrance - after the fair was gone...
You know, that that brown dusty, dirt; booth-like structures with people selling things (except instead of stuffed animals and fried dough, it was live chickens, vegetables, some sort of popped corn). Our guide pulled over to the side and directed us to do the same. He told us about this place - once a "men's hostel" (temporary housing space for black men who came from rural areas to work in the township) and now open to women and children. He told us about the ways the men's movements were incredibly restricted - passes required to leave the area, to visit or go to their own home villages or areas; about the incredibly crowded conditions, various rules to ensure that the hostel never become 'home' in any real sense (couldn't buy your home, had to leave if you stopped working, etc). Next NK directed us to enter the Shebeen (unofficial bar) - and we entered a tiny, round, room with metal walls, dirt floor, and metal tray for fire in the middle, and joined the 4 or 5 people already inside. NK told us a bit about Shebeens, then lifted a round gourd filled with beer, took a sip, and passed the gourd to a member of our group. In turn, we each sipped the brew, responded with the appropriate "Ah Ha" and passed the gourd to the person to the left.

I find as I write I'm having a hard time describing what I saw. I feel uncomfortable not being able to write more eloquently and knowledgably about the history of this area, of the people with whom I sat. I feel uncomfortable, and felt uncomfortable then, being a white person who has lived a physically comfortable and safe life, and is here looking at things with what must be wide eyes, a look of intrigue and amazement. I feel an impulse to take lots of pictures, and a discomfort taking them. Is snapping shots of this poverty, these conditions, this life so different from my own disrespectful? Does it make a show of some sort out of this? Am I treating others as if they and their lives are on display for my enjoyment in some way? Is there any way in which this is a mutual exchange or for mutual benefit, or am I taking something from them in some way? Am describing this well? Maybe my own feelings will become more clear over the next weeks. Only know now that I DO feel intrigued. I do want to be closer to all of this - to get closer and engage - and not be at arms length.

I couldn't help but be struck by what seem like warm, welcoming gestures of the people we passed and the people we met. Smiles. Greetings ("ola, ola," "hello," "Sani Banani"). Why weren't these people angry? Why didn't our white faces make them mad? After visiting the Apartheid Museum today and talking with some South African women today, I suppose I'm getting to understand it better, but still...I'm not sure I really do get it. How did this happen? I suspect this something I'll come back to over the coming weeks.

When I heard a man yell out "Shoot Me" - I was so glad our guide had told warned us about hearing this and what it meant! The fellow wanted me to take his picture, and then show him the photo. His smile at seeing himself on the back of my camera was worth a photo itself!

Kids waved and yelled out as we passed - and surrounded us when we stopped. They seem to love seeing the bicycles, cameras, and according to our guide, even our white faces. When we paused across from a school - the cheers and screams of delight from the kids were just short of deafening and seemed unending.

Over the course of the tour we rode by the Hector Petierson Museum - named for one of the youngest boys shot and killed by police during a student uprising in the 70s - and down the street that has the distinction of being the only street in the world that was home to two Nobel Peace Prize Winners (Quiz: what two Peace Prize winners lived in Soweto?). We rode through a section called Meadowlands - an area to which blacks were carted off when they were forced out Sophiatown - an area where people of varied racial backgrounds had been living together in relative harmony.
We rode by the home of the songwriter who wrote "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." Did you know that song came out of South Africa and the apartheid era? Where have I been? How come I know embarrassingly little about this history...history that is not all that old?

At some point in the day we stopped for lunch...Rota. It's a thick piece of white bread with some of the middle pulled out then stuffed with french fries (they'd call them chips), hot sauce, a fried egg, cheese (looked like American cheese), and a slice of grilled bologna on top. You take the little piece of bread part that was pulled out and put it on top of the whole thing and eat it like a sandwich. Can't say I found it delicious, but I was hungry and ate every last bite.

We went through sections of Soweto much different from the men's hostel - sections where single familly houses lined the streets, some with satellite dishes on top, many with walls with spikes on top or razor wire (a sign of greater wealth). Learned that putting spikes on the walls around your house was done at one time to deter those being chased by the police from jumping your wall and running into or trying to hide in your house - which would result in police trashing the house in their search for whomever they were chasing. Hmm. Is this too much detail?

All in all, the tour was really good. Really glad to have gone by bike instead of by foot or car (covered more ground than would have onfoot; felt much closer to things than if driving by in a car). Would have liked more time just sitting and being around and talking to local people. Would like to go back, but not sure that will be an option.

Ride back to Jim's included a spin through downtown Johannesburg. Bustling city with lots of people selling things on the streets, clothes hanging on lines on top of tall buildings. Would like to go back and just wander the streets, but Jim strongly advises against it feeling it's just not safe.

We stopped at the retirement community where Jim and Miles' parents live. Interesting to talk with their mom - 89 year old woman who grew up in Rhodesia. Got back to Jim's in time for another good meal, after dinner tea and conversation, and an early 'goodnight' for all.

Didn't fall asleep until quite late again (2am ish), and didn't roll out of bed until 11. Had boerswors on the brai (basically, sausage on the grill) for lunch - it's a big thing that the Welsh boys were eager for me to try - then Miles and I headed for the Apartheid Museum.

I hope to get back to the museum before I leave here. We cut it too close - arriving only 2 1/2 hours before closing. On the way in, I overheard a conversation that intrigued me and I ended up talking with a couple of South African women for quite some time. They were in their late 40s early 50s and had grown up here. One lived in Vienna for 4 years then went to college in the States. She chose Penn State because they had a program in mineral economics (what better degree for someone returning to South Africa!). She got back to South African with her degree only to find out that no one would hire her. Those jobs weren't for black people! Listening to this woman talk I felt...I don't know what I felt exactly. Outraged? Shocked? Unable to get my mind around what she must have felt - or still feel. To hear stories of events that took place in another lifetime (a lifetime that was not mine) is one thing, to hear about a contemporary's experience of this sort...

I'm tired and my head and heart feel full.

I'm committed to getting up at a reasonable time tomorrow. The four of us (me, Miles, Jim, and Carol) are off to some market-type place in the morning, then meeting up with Miles' and Jim's parents for lunch. I'd like to get some other outing in sometime in the afternoon, but perhaps we'll need to spend the time on trip preparation. We head out for Cape Vidal at 5am Monday morning. A long drive, and then the wildlife portion of this trip begins!

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Comments

[Kate]

history
First of all, because you know how my mind works, Tutu and Mandela -- easy trivia. Second, it's great to hear you're there and learning; what a trip! Jo'berg sounds fascinating, and full of people full of stories... Apparently, you needed to sit in on a World History class or two, but that would have provided only half the story anyway, as the people are the story. Maybe you can do a guest appearance at the end of the semester some time. I'm just saying. Have a safe and exciting trip into the wilderness!

[Newt]

Lunch?
Fries and bologna on white bread is what they eat here in Georgia - what's the big deal? Watch the carbs.

[ann]

Fantastic!
So exciting to follow you on your adventure. It's getting me psyched for my India trip. I totally get what you're saying about the photograpy. In Laos I felt at times like I was stealing something from the people I shot, making an object of them in their pictureque poverty. At the suggestion of our guide, we brought junky candy for the toddlers, which made it a tiny bit more of an exchange. I guess.