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. As in Bangladesh, Vietnam, and elsewhere where we have done this, the guide’s running commentary and the ability to ask almost any question are invaluable. You
can get to all the tourist attractions on your own, but you won’t get any real insight without traveling with a local willing to share their story.
Jerry was born in a black South African 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. Jerry, along with 17 million other Blacks, voted for Nelson Mandela as President. His last name alone is a history lesson. Hoping to be classified as Colored rather than Black, Jerry’s grandfather changed his name when he moved 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 notes that townships have now been added to the list of “must-sees” for tourists visiting 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; instead, he stopped on one of the roads (slightly wider dirt paths and crisscrossed 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 was 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 severely affected as new people leave 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 that of Whites. Blacks today suffer the consequences of that. They are not as prepared to assume leadership positions in today’s Rainbow Nation. Jerry takes an active role in mentoring young men in his township and follows the creed “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 jokingly, 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. We 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 African discovery and for whom Rhodesia was named), Jerry was still emotional that, as a Black person, 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 even to 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?
(The featured image is not my photo)