This first week in Johannesburg has been a study in contrast and juxtaposition. Each day here I have found myself moving between distinct spaces, hearing conflicting narratives, and interacting with people who occupy very different worlds.
The first day began with a visit to the Vortrekker Monument. An imposing granite building on a hill overlooking the administrative capital of Pretoria, it was built in 1935 to commemorate those who lost their lives during the “Great Trek,” the journey Dutch settlers took into the interior to avoid restrictions imposed by the newly arrived British. Professor Chafe did not preface the visit with any information about the space, and we carefully listened to our tour guide’s passionate account of the trek, even as some details of her story made us skeptical. She told of how the courageous early Afrikaners faced harsh conditions, found ways to get wagons down hill, confronted sabotage and defeat, and yet emerged victorious over “dangerous natives” to come to possess a land of their own. Maybe it was the jet lag, but I didn’t realize quite how bizarre of a space it was until we drove to the neighboring hill, home to Freedom Park. Freedom Park commemorates those who died fighting for freedom in South Africa’s four great conflicts, one of which is Apartheid. Freedom Park was a much more abstract and approachable space, rooted in the natural world and utilizing symbolism from African spiritual traditions. Our guide at Freedom Park took a very different approach as well, discussing the criticisms, contradictions and shortcomings of the monument. It wasn’t until he said that Freedom Park’s placement was intended to provide a direct counter-narrative to Vortrekker that I realized Vortrekker was about as close as one can come to a monument to Apartheid. Beyond the stark contrast of what the two monuments memorialized—the initial triumph of white power in South Africa vs. the defeat of codification of white power, Apartheid—the physical spaces and even the methods of the tour guides presented other interesting contrasts.
A road connecting the two memorials was recently opened. Our tour guide at Freedom Park tells us that it symbolizes the need to continually work towards reconciliation. Oddly telling that we were the only car on the road, considering our discussion at our first reflection dinner of whether or not these two tour guides could have a conversation which would lead to common ground. We didn’t all agree about whether or not they would be able to. In a conversation between the two of them she would probably agree that Apartheid was not a good or ethical policy. However, it is easy to criticize something that the whole world has denounced. I think it would be much more challenging for her to admit that the servants and slaves of Vortrekkers didn’t just want to come with their masters because they wanted work, a point she made early on in her tour. I doubt that she would agree that the space holds negative connotations. This is a key distinction I realized during this week. Someone can easily enough verbally denounce something, but when it comes down to the underlying issues their views may very likely remain unchanged. Furthermore, this tour guide at Vortrekker’s personal narrative can continue to exist because it does not have to come into contact with a narrative which contradicts and might disprove her own. However, the existence of Vortrekker is incredibly important. It allows for an understanding of the history and sense of pride and nationalism that allowed Apartheid to flourish. My understanding of each of the two sites was expanded by our visit to the other site.
Two days later, we were faced with another stark contrast, one that was more difficult to experience and raised other interesting questions.
On the third day, we visited Alexander, one of the oldest townships in South Africa. Townships were one of the few areas where blacks were able to live during the harsh restrictions of Apartheid. Many are still mainly populated by black South Africans and they are often over populated and under resourced. Our entrance into Alexander was sudden; we exited the freeway, crossed a bridge and suddenly we found ourselves in a different world. Traffic laws and lights were ignored by everyone (including our driver), cars horns continually pierced the air and goats rummaged for food in piles of trash alongside the road. We drove down narrow streets where young men played soccer in the intersections. Laundry lines were hung in most open spaces, and more laundry was hung out of windows and on fences. A pile of trash burned on a corner. Even though it was the middle of the day people were everywhere, understandable since unemployment in Alexander is 30%. Even within Alexander the contrasts were shocking. At one point we drove down a street with large, well-maintained, fenced in houses. A minute later we were passing tin shacks, pieced together by scrap metal, roofs held down by cinder blocks. We spent three amazing hours wandering around with our guide Thabo Mopasi, a resident of Alexander. He knew everyone, and the pride with which he spoke of his hometown was inspiring, and counter to a Western narrative about poverty.
Just across the freeway, less than a 10-minute drive away, was Sandton. It is the richest suburb of Johannesburg, maybe the richest area in South Africa. We pulled into a mall for lunch and some of us wandered into a café where we ordered honey mustard chicken salads. Our server was black, nearly everyone eating there was white. As we drove through Sandton we saw huge houses, all surrounded by massive walls with electrical wire at the top. We passed a large golf course. There was a mall with designer stores. The contrast between the two spaces was so stark that I struggled to even wrap my head around it. Yes, this contrast may be one of the more extreme which exists in South Africa. Sandton is incredibly wealthy, and the two neighborhoods are very close together. Yet South Africa is one of the most unequal countries in the world and I feel that contrasts like this are not the exception, but the norm. According to our driver, many people from Alexander come into Sandton to work during the day, returning to Alexander at night. How often do people from Sandton go into Alexander? How do you navigate both of these worlds in one day? How do you walk from your home in Alexander to the restaurant where you work in Sandton without feeling confusion or anger at the inequality? Do you become accustomed to the differences?
I cannot judge the tour guide at Vortrekker, or the residents of Sandton who don’t think about the crowded streets of Alexander when they play golf. I know that I too have my own narrative that is certainly misguided or incorrect in at least a few ways. I admit that I felt more comfortable eating my honey mustard salad than I did walking the streets of Alexander. It is normal to feel comfortable with what is familiar. It is normal to be comfortable standing in, instead of sticking out. Although I felt apprehensive when we first stepped out of the van in Alexander, by the end of our three hours I was excited, energized, inspired. The contrasts of South Africa have forced me to notice the spaces where I have felt more comfortable, but have allowed me to realize that so far the places where I feel uncomfortable, where my narrative or my current reality of the world are challenged, have been the places that I have met the best people and experienced my favorite moments. The contrasts that exist within South Africa have led me to learn far more that I would have learned without them.
