I spent a while trying to come up with a crafty title for this entry, musing over the likes of, 'No more dangerous than Romford on a Friday night,' and 'History in motion', but I thought that just the simple title has as resounding an impact as any intelligent literary slur I can come up with.
Because this (Soweto, south west of Johannesburg) is a incredible place. Arguably the place where the downfall of apartheid began, it is definitely the location of its orchestration. Student protests here (all from the black community) in 1976 led to a heavy handed response from the (white) police force, with 23 people being killed. This led to widespread condemnation from the international community towards the government, and brought into the light the situation in South Africa. Though it was not for another twenty-four years that apartheid was ended (or 'independence' as the black community refers to it), the 1976 uprising was the start of concerted action from the black community, most notably the ANC - who were centred in Soweto - and led the rise of the black protest in South Africa.
As a result, I feel quite humbled to be staying here; staying with a local man who lives one street along from where Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu both used to live, and only a hundred metres from the route of the original protests which led to the uprising. The man I am staying with has lived in Soweto throughout his life and thus through these periods of political strife and change. He is as a result one of the most accepting and friendly people I have met, being of the same ilk as Mandela (or Madiba, as he is called here). He believes in extending the hand of friendship to as many strangers as possible, because only through people understanding places for themselves can they recognise the true face of a society and culture.
And it has worked with me. I am the only white person in the village. At the project where I am working everyone else is local, on my hour-long journey to work I see only local people going about their normal lives. Yet the guidebooks tell you to be more careful here than anywhere else. This is labelled as part of the 'dangerous jo'burg' section, where I should not walk around on my own, and should not be out at night at all. Yet all I encounter on my wanderings (which I obviously conduct on my own), aside from the customary stares because of my skin colour are people calling out to me, 'Saobona my friend, welcome to Soweto!'
Something I have encountered throughout Africa is local people being unable to understand white people walking to places. It seems the white residents of these countries drive everywhere, and only the poor people walk. Obviously I have managed to degrade myself to 'poor' status (too many bungee jumps, skydives and scrumptious meals I think), and thus I walk everywhere possible. Normally the locals just look at you and ask if you are lost, but in Soweto they actually ask if you want a lift. It seems people here are determined to overturn the image of this place as somewhere white people cannot go - and they are doing a good job of it.
Staying with locals obviously means living like one. Which means my fruit and vegetable intake has been cut to one-a-day, the main food here being a 'Kota', pronounced 'quarter', because it is a quarter of a loaf of bread filled with unhealthy things. Such as chips, sausage, egg, cheese, ham and whatever else they have on display. But they cost max R20, normally around R10, which is less than GBP1. Local living also means there is only a cold shower, no toilet seat and no working lights in the room I am staying in. But I cannot complain - the generosity of the people to have got me this accomodation when I could have been a chav from Basingstoke rather than a fairly well mannered (at times) person from rural Essex.
And I do not know anyone else who has had such an experience. Spending the mornings visiting and trying to address the needs of the guardians of AIDS orphans, and spending the afternoons trying to improve the quality of life of the orphans themselves is something that is richly rewarding, and is defnitely an experience I will not get at home.
I seem to be lacking the amusing anecdotes with this entry, but that is because the only thing funny about this place is the bumbling Englishman walking through town expecting to feel intimidated, and frightened but instead only feeling welcomed and impressed. Obviously Soweto is not perfect, and there are still huge problems here. But it is the finest example I have seen of an economic, social and industrial powerhouse created by black people entirely by, and for, themselves. This place has promise, which hopefully, in the not too distant future, will spread to the rest of the continent.
Something I have encountered throughout Africa is local people being unable to understand white people walking to places. It seems the white residents of these countries drive everywhere, and only the poor people walk. Obviously I have managed to degrade myself to 'poor' status (too many bungee jumps, skydives and scrumptious meals I think), and thus I walk everywhere possible. Normally the locals just look at you and ask if you are lost, but in Soweto they actually ask if you want a lift. It seems people here are determined to overturn the image of this place as somewhere white people cannot go - and they are doing a good job of it.
Staying with locals obviously means living like one. Which means my fruit and vegetable intake has been cut to one-a-day, the main food here being a 'Kota', pronounced 'quarter', because it is a quarter of a loaf of bread filled with unhealthy things. Such as chips, sausage, egg, cheese, ham and whatever else they have on display. But they cost max R20, normally around R10, which is less than GBP1. Local living also means there is only a cold shower, no toilet seat and no working lights in the room I am staying in. But I cannot complain - the generosity of the people to have got me this accomodation when I could have been a chav from Basingstoke rather than a fairly well mannered (at times) person from rural Essex.
And I do not know anyone else who has had such an experience. Spending the mornings visiting and trying to address the needs of the guardians of AIDS orphans, and spending the afternoons trying to improve the quality of life of the orphans themselves is something that is richly rewarding, and is defnitely an experience I will not get at home.
I seem to be lacking the amusing anecdotes with this entry, but that is because the only thing funny about this place is the bumbling Englishman walking through town expecting to feel intimidated, and frightened but instead only feeling welcomed and impressed. Obviously Soweto is not perfect, and there are still huge problems here. But it is the finest example I have seen of an economic, social and industrial powerhouse created by black people entirely by, and for, themselves. This place has promise, which hopefully, in the not too distant future, will spread to the rest of the continent.
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