Ch. 2: Living in Boxes

“Unfortunately, you will have to check one of the boxes in question eight.”

The “unfortunately” was the first concession that the invigilator had given to us as human beings. I was still uncomfortable checking one of those boxes, but I felt less polarized by this woman who would have been more comfortable teaching a an old-fashioned Catholic primary school. After all, we were all college students, some of us even graduate students. Most of us were from the U.S., but we were being forced into taking a long and poorly written English proficiency exam designed for South Africans. Before we could start the testing, we had to fill out a detailed survey of our secondary schools – which province were they in? did they have running water? And now in question eight we were asked to answer a question that had always been strictly optional, and we were faced with a ghost of a South Africa whose death we all welcomed.

8. Race:
__ Black __ White __ Coloured __Indian __Other

To South Africans, this would be much less strange an encounter. And most would have no question which box to check. Before 1994, “other” was not an option. The entire population was registered as Black (Africans of Bantu descent), White – (those of European descent), Indian, or Coloured – a term that meant basically the same as “other,” most of whom were lighter-brown-skinned descendents of non-Bantu indigenous people or of slaves taken from Southeast Asia and Mozambique. Whites have always been the minority here, but were allocated an inordinate amount of the resources. Below them were the Indians and the Coloureds, and at the very bottom rung was the majority of the population – those labeled as Black.

This system of classification, called apartheid, was started in 1948 the National Party, which was composed of Afrikaners – white people of Dutch descent. Two years later, the Group Areas Act began the racial zoning of living areas. From there, it only escalated. But so did the resistance – the African National Congress gained momentum and developed as a highly organized political force. Finally, in 1994, after broiling between internal resistance and international pressure, the National Party government turned over the country to the ANC, under baton of Nelson Mandela.

Mandela became a worldwide icon for bringing the country from the oppressive state of apartheid to a new democracy which is constitutionally bound to embrace everyone – the Rainbow Nation. Yesterday was his 90th birthday, and it was celebrated worldwide. Here at home, the media is filled with praise. The headline placards hung up and down Main Road celebrate him, calling him by his popular nickname, Madiba. I picked up a copy of the national paper, The Mail and Guardian, when I went to the Pick n Pay today to buy my groceries, and found this letter from a 14-year-old from Soweto: “Madiba deserves an aeroplane. I am tired of seeing him on TV coming out of big Mercedes-Benzes and BMWs. I want to get him a small aeroplane he can use to go anywhere, even to Pick n Pay to buy his groceries.”

South Africa does have a lot to celebrate, but, as I was reminded by the English proficiency test, the legacy of apartheid is far from over. On Monday the university took the international students on a tour of the peninsula. We saw African penguins on Boulders beach, and baboons, ostriches, whales, and two oceans at the Cape of Good Hope. For lunch we pulled into a town called Oceanview, where the Coloureds had been settled after being forcibly removed from places like District Six in the heart of town where, in 1966, the homes of 60,000 Coloureds were bulldozed to make room for white settlement. Our huge coach buses pulled into the parking lot of a high school, and we went into the gymnasium where we were served lunch. Afterward, we were treated to a variety show put on by students – talented and passionate singers, dancers, and musicians. The principal then invited us back. The kids need encouragement, he said, when only student in three will graduate, and the others will face stifling unemployment and rampant opportunities for crime.

On Thursday we were shown that this was not, indeed, the worst of it. Shawco, a huge volunteer organization at UCT, took us into the township of Khayelitsha. Townships in South Africa are generally poor areas near cities where Blacks flocked to find work. Most homes are small and made of corrugated metal. Running water and electricity are rare. Education is drastically inferior to other areas. Khayelitsha is the third largest of these in the country, with up to one million residents. Again in coach buses, we drove past endless rows of shacks, patched together from thin sheets of variously colored metal. Again we pulled up to a school and disembarked – a swarm of mostly bleached faces and mostly straight hair, a spectacle for the children playing in the schoolyard, who gathered at the fences. Of course they had seen white people before, especially there in a place where Shawco runs many programs and regularly ships in college students. But mostly on TV, where the bleach runs through every valley. Hollywood Americans are the real ambassadors to the townships, imbedded everywhere a TV set and some electricity can be found. And the message they bring is a welcome one – in The Real World, resources are not an issue. Cars are big enough to house two families, and each home is a village.

Those who would check the White box do not live in the townships. 90% of Khayelitsha lives in the tiny box beside the word Black. It is another symbol of the power of this country’s past. Yesterday amidst celebration and praise, the world was quietly reminded of Madiba’s mortality. There is still a long battle to be fought.

Note: I have some pictures up: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/natepmay.