Out Of Africa. - The Journey Begins...

Il 10 giugno

Johannesburg, South Africa

Two days in Johannesburg (often referred to as Joburg) can hardly qualify me to write about the city, although 48 hours here has definitely made an impression that I feel comfortable in sharing. I'm staying in a lovely hotel in the suburb of Sandton, a relatively affluent area where the homes are electronically gated; this is a protection against frequent break-ins and also a requirement of the insurance companies who will not insure unprotected homes. At any rate, it's quite lovely and the hotel is above an upscale shopping mall with designer boutiques and Woolworth's, a gourmet food shop and restaurant where the prices are higher than in your average market and the roast chicken sandwiches delicious.

Such was my introduction to this country that I first studied when, as a high school student, I read “Cry, the Beloved Country” by Alan Paton, a story about the apartheid policy in South Africa. Years later, I watched the news broadcasts when Nelson Mandela gained his freedom after 27 years in prison and when the apartheid policies that controlled the country for so many years were finally abolished. I remember the riots in Soweto and watching my television screen capture the event, but I was a spectator and could commiserate only from afar. As an American who has never lacked for anything, I never really understood poverty, not that I do now, for my belly is never crying from the pain of hunger and I have never known a night where I didn't have a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head.

So how do I describe a place that I've known for only two days where what I have primarily seen is a clear demarcation between the have's and the have-nots. (I fear that whatever I write will not be an adequate description.) Johannesburg is vibrant with commercial growth and urban development, full of enthusiastic fervor for its national sports teams, and pulsing with the energy of a city working hard to right the wrongs of the past. It is a “sea” of contrasts from the beautiful tree-lined streets of the affluent communities to Soweto with its streets of shanties and tin shacks and government housing.

The Hector Pieterson Museum in Soweto is a collection, preservation, and interpretation of the history and legacy of the 1976 national uprisings; those days when rioting, fear, and death filled the streets of this community. Since then there have been changes in the educational system (English, not Afrikaans is the language of instruction) and there are opportunities for the economic and social advancement for these people who were forced to give up their homes and move to the outskirts of town. Progress, however, does not happen quickly, although our tour guide was positive and enthusiastic about the changes in Soweto; her ready smile was in marked contrast to some of the teenagers who were clearly observing us in a way that left me uncomfortable. One of the problems, also, that the country is facing is the increasing number of illegal immigrants coming in. Having no place to live, they are contributing to the population living on the streets or under the make-shift tin roofs.

My time in Johannesburg was really a starting point for my trip, rather than a place to “play tourist.” I left the city with a better understanding of its history, a greater appreciation of how far it has come, economically and socially, and an awareness of the challenges that still lie ahead.