Looking at Google Maps a couple weeks ago out of curiosity, I found the distance between my home of Minnesota and the place I would spend eight weeks of the summer to be about 9,000 miles—that’s about eight times further away than Duke! With this great gap in mind, the reality of being on the opposite side of the world sunk in upon landing over a dark Johannesburg at 6 pm; it was almost like turning the calendar ahead six months to the end of November. At that moment, a flood of emotion overcame me: joy at the tremendous opportunity presented to immerse myself into a new culture and hopefully make an impact on the lives of those with whom I would come into contact. But also, clouds of doubt and nervousness made me question if God was truly leading me on the right path. I mean, what could I, a twenty-year old white American do to contribute to a country scarred by a racist past, marked by the atrocious policy of apartheid?
Simply stepping off the plane, my cage for about twenty hours, began to brighten my spirits and renewed the sense of excitement that filled me upon hearing of my acceptance into this program about six months ago. That excitement carried me through to the next day, when our group began our week-long introduction to South African history and culture. Just this past Monday, we visited two hills in Pretoria. Two hills separated by a valley, two hills that contradict each other, and two hills that embody the past and present division in South African society.
A solitary tree stands between a portion of the memorial wall at Freedom Park
The Voortrekker Monument in Pretoria was completed in 1948, for the purpose of commemorating the Boers who had settled the Johannesburg area and their arduous voyage from the coast. Guided by a middle aged, well-dressed Afrikaner woman, we learned of the “many trials and hardships” faced by the “brave” settlers, particularly their frequent conflicts with the native Zulu tribes, most of which ended in tremendous bloodshed. Witness to a propaganda that glorified the Boer conquest and still jet-lagged from my own voyage, I found myself passively absorbing the supposed “facts” the woman presented to us: The Boers defeated a Zulu force of 150,000 in the battle of Blood River; a young girl, the lone survivor of a “massacre” of a Boer trekker group, was the sole witness to the “murder” of her kin; and the Boers fell victim to back-stabbing nature of the Zulu tribes.
Every December 16th, Afrikaners gather in this hall to pay tribute to their ancestors
However, upon reflecting later that day after we visited the other hill, Freedom Park, a memorial to those who struggled against the Boer’s descendants’ “policy of good-neighborliness,” or apartheid, I not only realized the injustice done to the native Africans from the trek forwards, but also found many parallels to the United States’ history, stretching farther back than segregation and slavery. Like the Zulu, the Cherokee, Ojibwe, Lakota, Anasazi, Seminoles and countless other American Indian tribes were forcibly displaced, massacred, and destroyed by settlers and pioneers. Like the Zulu, these injustices have been downplayed or even forgotten. Like the Zulu, racism towards and discrimination against the Indians continues: one instance occurs every time the National Football League team in Washington, D.C. takes the field, as each Indian is insulted with a slur associated with the cultural demolition of the original habitants of the United States by our government and citizens. Upon talking with others in the group, many of us noticed the lack of education and awareness in America about the rich Indian heritage. While there are many memorials to the heroes of the American Revolution, the explorers who “discovered” the west and a national holiday of Thanksgiving, the American Indian has been largely forgotten in common discourse.
This solitary confinement cell remains at Constitution Hill in Johannesburg, the prison that held those who chose to speak out against injustice, including Nelson & Winnie Mandela and Mohandas Gandhi
We have observed countless times throughout this first week how forgetting the past has led to present-day problems. South Africa has been under the control of the African National Congress since Nelson Mandela’s election in 1994. Yet, the ANC of 1994 looks completely different than the one of 2016. Corruption and wealth have replaced the initial values of equality and justice for every South African, leading some to question if the new South Africa is any better off than the old oppressive government. The predicament of poverty is still felt by the thousands of residents of the slum township of Alexandra, as government funds that are supposed to go towards improving people’s lives have been accumulated by President Zuma and other top ANC officials. Furthermore, the mine workers have little to no rights, even though they are the ones who carry South Africa’s economy on their backs. Earlier this week, we viewed a documentary film about a 2012 miner’s strike in which the South African police brutally killed mine strikers, who asked for a wage increase from 5,000 Rand to 12,500 per month (that’s less than 1,000 USD in today’s market). It was difficult to grasp the reality of the situation as I witnessed unarmed men gunned down by a force armed for war. As people in South Africa have become complacent with the ruling party, it has taken advantage of those it initially sought to protect, and has effectively turned into an oligarchy that cares about the Rand ahead of the man, woman, or child.
Tin-roofed shacks are a common sight in the township of Alexandra, Nelson Mandela’s first home in the Joburg area
In the United States, a similar problem is about to reach its crossroads this November. Our country is perhaps the most polarized it has been since 1861, as many people are afraid of change, while many others believe it is long overdue. Those afraid of the change of the status quo in our country and their current prosperous status in American society have developed a xenophobia that will prove to be devastating if the man who is voicing their battle cry is elected President. Beyond South African and American history, we have seen xenophobia lead to murder, destruction, discrimination, and the decline of humanity: an age-old European bias against and fear of the Jewish faith culminated in the extermination of seven million Jews at the hands of Hitler and his ruthless dictatorship; millions of Chinese were murdered and raped by Japan at the dawn of World War II; ISIL and other extremist terrorist organizations have destroyed and continue to destroy everything against their beliefs. Xenophobia exists everywhere and continues to persist because people fail to learn from the past.
The Apartheid Museum seeks to remind visitors of South Africa’s past
But how come people fail to follow an apparently simple solution? Last semester, I took a documentary film class in which we explored the ideas behind preservation: one theme, presented by archivist Rick Prelinger, was that we as humans tend to document and glorify the good times, as we desire to remember happy moments and forget the bad or uncomfortable ones. Perhaps this is why people fail to learn from the mistakes of those who came before. Monuments like the Voortrekker Memorial and Gateway Arch, World Series and Super Bowl champion merchandise, and historical sites like Little Big Horn all contribute to this idea: victory is glorified while defeat is forgotten. However, as I’ve experienced through my twenty short years of life and especially in my four semesters at Duke, much more is learned from imperfection, failure and struggle than achievement.
In order to move beyond the trap of xenophobia, our country must address its own imperfections, seek to reconcile, and move towards a brighter future that truly embodies the “truths we hold self-evident that all are created equal.” Do not be afraid to address your fears and anxieties; otherwise, the effect of their entrapment and eventual release will cause far greater damage than you ever intended.
Thanks for taking the time to read my first blog and I hope you take time to think of how you could help bring about a spirit of inclusivity, whether it be reaching out to someone who tends to be excluded, conversing with a friend or neighbor about your beliefs, living out your faith, or seeking to mend old wounds.
