9/6

We woke up with high expectations for the day. We had reserved spots to Robben Island that could easily be cancelled if weather did not permit. Luckily it was a perfect day: cloudless, sunny, and only a wee bit windy. We called a Rikki (a private minibus taxi) to come pick us up and drive us to the Waterfront. On our way there the most random thing happened. Two horses, one black and one white, both without saddles, crossed the street in front of our car. No person was guiding them, they were just trotting along. It was so strange to see, but a wonderful sign for our day ahead. Two hard working animals, one white, one black, walking side by side through South African roadways; a perfect picture of a rainbow nation that Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners spent their lives fighting for. How appropriate to be the scene we encounter on our way to Robben Island.

 

Once we got to the Clock Tower, where we would board the ferry, we had a little extra time to wander the museum. It was housed in a glass building on the harbor. There were fishing boats parked at the docks, and at least five or six seals playing alongside waiting for fish to drop. They would clap their fins and wave, which would usually earn them their just reward. After learning the history of the island itself we finally boarded the ferry. It took about 1/2 hour before the boat pulled in to Murray’s Dock. They rushed us onto busses that were crammed to the fullest. The bus tour would take us around the island, including the town that used to house Irish immigrants that worked as guards, physicians, and cooks to the prisoners, to the Wild side (which is named for the variety of animals that live there, including more African penguins!, a lot of rabbits, springbok, deer, guinea fowls, etc.), past the lighthouse, to the lime quarry where the prisoners were forced to excavate stone to build their own walls, and Robert Sobukwe’s house. One highlight of the bus tour was the tiny rock monument in the lime quarry. When the political prisoners returned to Robben Island after living as free men, Nelson Mandela led them in a speech emphasizing reconciliation and unity. After the speech, and completely unplanned, he stopped for a moment. He had spent so many years of his life toiling in this quarry, schooling in the cave (both the illiterate, and sharing his words and ideas with soon-to-be politicians), and even ruining his eyesight in the sun and dust. He took this moment to pick up his last rock and place it in the center of the quarry. Each ex-prisoner followed suit, selecting their own rock and placing it atop his. The mound stands about waist high and is filled with rocks of different shapes, sizes, and textures. It is a perfect representation of the Rainbow Nation, of the “triumph of the human spirit against the forces of evil, a triumph of wisdom and largeness of spirit against small minds and pettiness, a triumph of courage and determination over human frailty and weakness”. That simple gesture led to a monument that defines South Africa today.

After the bus tour we were dropped off at the high security prison that housed the criminals and political prisoners. Unfortunately, this part of the tour felt extremely rushed and crowded. Much of the tour was given outside, where it was difficult to hear due to the wind, chattering people, and crying children. We toured the courtyard where prisoners sat on the ground to break rocks and mend clothes in the 60’s, and play tennis and send secret messages to each other in the 70’s. It was where Nelson grew his vegetable garden and hid his manuscript “A Long Way to Freedom”. After this we herded to the Site D jail cells, including Mandela’s. They were probably 5 X 5 feet, with a bucket in one corner, a mat in the other, and a table in the middle. People understandably crowded around the cell, snapping pictures. All I could think was to make my way to the front, take a picture, and quickly get out of the way. We had no time to view the cell except behind the lens, and definitely no time to let any of experiences sink in. After this site we went to Site B where the criminals were held. They had large cells that fit up to 51 people. Here too people were talking, taking away from the tour and ruining the atmosphere. Overall, this part of the tour had such potential to be heart wrenching and powerful. We stood inside a Robben Island jail cell. We stood in the courtyard where prisoners worked their lives away. We even stood outside the captivation spot of arguably the greatest humanitarian of our time. Yet, it did not feel that way. It all happened so quickly that I am just now beginning to realize the importance.

Our tour ran a little late, and we had to be back on the ferry, so our group had to basically run back to the harbor. We all skipped the gift shop and just made it.  On the way back we decided to stand outside on the dock to see the gorgeous views of Cape Town and its surrounding mountains. Once back on the shore we walked around the Waterfront, a large shopping and restaurant area. It was such a stark contrast from what we had just come from. We stopped for fish n’ chips for lunch and then went back to the hostel to do some work.

It is scary how comfortable we have become in Cape Town. It sucks you into its architecture, scenery, and history that it is easy to forget about the millions of people living without running water, sanitation, or electricity just minutes away. The tour guide asked our bus who had been to a township and only 3 people raised their hand (2 of them were Brittany and I). People learn about apartheid as though it happened in the past, recognize the struggle South Africans went through, and are glad they didn’t have to. They visit the District 6 Museum and Robben Island and they think we are beyond that. But they ignore the situation in the townships where black and colored people are still treated as less than persons; they ignore the xenophobic attacks until 60 people have died and thousands have fled; they ignore the millions living among them in poverty.  Because Cape Town sucks you in so that these things are easy to ignore, these people are easy to ignore. So to say the least, our comfort level has made me very uneasy. I will not want to become one of the tourists who can spend a day at the Waterfront and not think of the townships, the people who live there, and the struggles they go through to survive.