67. South Africa: Pretoria and Hartebeastport Dam

As described in the previous post we were staying with Richard and Shelley, contacts that we had lined up before the trip.  They are from the same part of Kansas as our mother, and he was finishing a three-year contract as an Anglican Priest in a White Pretoria neighborhood, Garsfontein.  They had really made an effort to line us up with informative people from their church, essentially young and well educated, an in the field that Dan was studying: soil and water conservation. In retrospect people went to a lot of trouble to show us that South Africa was not as bad as the press was reporting, and that there were, according to them, good reasons for the way the country was organized. 

When people think of apartheid, I think most think of full segregation along racial lines.  People perhaps were aware of the “townships” that were organized along racial lines, so that there were White towns, Coloured townships and Black or African townships.  But that is not the whole story.  The entire nation had been carved up so that a much larger area, with virtually all of the resources was White, and that Black people were citizens of the “independent homelands”, which by definition had few if any resources.  On paper South Africa was therefore a majority white country and the “independent homelands” were 100% black.

In nearly a week in South Africa, we had yet to speak to a Black person.

We drove past MEDUNSA (Medical University of South Africa).  It was controversial at the time as it was intended to show that Blacks were given equal treatment in the country, and at the same time it generated resentment amongst Whites, that considered it wasted investment.

Pretoria, South Africa, Monday, 10 July, 1983

(HELENA) Peter Howell, the veterinarian we had talked to on Saturday, and his univer­sity aged son, Ian, came to pick us up shortly after 9:00. We went south a ways toward Johannesburg, turned onto the Krugersdorp road, and finally headed northish toward the Magaliesberg mountain range (in Afrikaans the “g” is pronounced like the English “h” and “berg” means mountains). We drove through quite a few large patches of aloes with their beautiful orangeish blossoms. I had never been aware of aloes until Zimbabwe (this is their season), but Dan says they’re a popular house plant in the USA. However he has never seen them bloom there.

Native vegetation with aloes.

Our main purpose was to see the Hartbeesport dam and lake. Shortly before getting there we passed a huge nuclear research plant, about which neither of us are thrilled. At the lake we went around the southern edge first and saw how terribly low the level of the water was. We stopped there to have a cuppa tea and breakfast scones  Verrry civilized.  We then drove on around to the northwestern shore to drive through the fancy weekend houses crowded one against the other. I must admit that there were some neat houses there (especially those with thatched roofs), but I personally would detest getting away from the city to go to a crowded resort by a lake. Next we went to the dam itself and that really was about the neatest one I’ve ever seen. It was built during the 20’s and they’d built it in a narrow gorge so that it was quite a short dam. Mr. Howell said that weekends and holidays are ter­ribly crowded there, and since the bridge is only one lane wide, the cars line up for ages before getting across. Even today there was a fair amount of traffic. According to the Hatfields, everybody and their dog goes someplace for the weekends and holidays, and now I can believe it. From the south, the Magaliesberg are very abrupt stone cliffs. In fact, they have a cable car going up to the top of one of them so that the holidayers can do hang gliding.

Hartebeasteport Dam

We then continued on northeast of the mountains (they have a gentle slope on this side), and immediately noticed a climatic change. Actually, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the change except that we were suddenly in citrus grove country. We stopped at one place for Mr. Howell to buy a box of nartjies (tangerines), and then continued on to Brits, where Hr. Howell used to practice, but changed a lot since then, from a farm town to an industrial center. He had a name for the factories; they are called “border in­dustries”.  They build all of these huge complexes right on the border of the homelands in order, according to our host, “to provide jobs for the blacks”. Nothing was said about the convenience of cheap labor for the “Europeans”, or need for the Datsuns or whatever is being produced there. It was not until we got home that we saw how very approp­riate that term “border industries” was; Brits is in a narrow strip of the Transvaal (South Africa) between two patches of the “independent homeland” of Bophuthatswana.  Somehow they divided up the land so that the Krokodile River and the irrigation system are in the Republic of South Africa.

Map of Homelands at the time of our trip (in yellow).

We went back to the park beside the dam for a delicious picnic lunch (chicken, boiled eggs, salad, potato crisps and orange juice from a big carton with a spigot --quite fancy) and then crossed the narrow bridge on the dam to start back to Pretoria. The spillway is BONE DRY, and the only water leaving for irrigation is through a side waterfall. As we drove along the other side we became aware of the most awful smell. We all agreed with Dan that it was the smell of a feedlot but in this case it is due to the high quantity of algae in that section of the lake.

We stopped for Dan to take a photo of MEDUNSA (Medical University of South Africa), the relatively new (I think parts of it are six years old) resplendent medical university for blacks. Because of security we could only view it through the (razor-wire) fence, but from afar it is most impressive. Peter Howell says that they have excellent facilities, and his son-in-law is even planning to specialize there. At least the veterinary part is superior to the white university where he works.

Views of MEDUNSA (Medical University of South Africa) recenly built to showcase education for Blacks.

He then drove us by to see where he works. We did not go inside since everyone is on holiday, but things did look a bit cramped. His main complaint is that his department has been working in temporary housing for years, always with the promise of new facilities. According to him, the government will grant whatever people want at MEDUNSA so that it will look good, but they, at University of Pretoria have to beg for the little they get.

We had two hours at home before Hermann Wiekers came to get us for supper. He is a young very good looking man whom we met on Sunday after mass. He was most insistent on having us over, and we finally settled on tonight after several other attempts at dates. Shelley very carefully explained that Hermann and his wife (I cannot remember her name) are Dutch as opposed to Afrikaans.

His wife was putting their two children to bed when we arrived, so he got out the atlas to ask questions about Bolivia. He works with the government on the treatment of waste water and has made several trips to the U.S.A. in connection with his job. He is apparently quite brilliant and has a doctorate in his field. Mrs. Wiekers eventually came and we went in to dinner.

As is the custom here, she brought out the nicely warmed plates and set them on the straw mats in front of us. She served us a good Indonesian main dish, and as we ate, we learned that she had been born in Indonesia of Dutch colonialist parents. When she and her sister reached high school age, they decided to immigrate to either South Africa or the U.S. rather than send them off to boarding school. Hermann on the other hand came from Holland with his parents when he was five years old. Several years ago he became a South African citizen. They were friendly and quite talkative, but I am afraid our political views are rather different. For example he stated that Western Civilization unfortunately tends to destroy things just when they are doing well.  “Just when the Americans had good presidents like Reagan and Nixon, they pull them down and get rid of them. Sure, Nixon did a couple of things badly, but doesn’t everyone?”

Actually I should not use quotation marks because his way of putting it was so much more effective than mine. I hate the way the people we have met generalize about other groups of people. It is not just the “Afs” who get it, it is everybody: “Now the Afrikaaner is like this...” “The Cape Coloured are always like that.” I am afraid that tonight we “proved” one more of those prejudices: “The recent immigrants are even more racist than the long-established White South Africans.”

Dan got pretty sleepy, so Hermann drove us home right after coffee in the lounge (it is not called living room here). I realize I sound rather negative about our visit, so I shall just add that we appreciated their hospitality and being given a chance to hear still another point of view.

Pretoria, South Africa, Tuesday, 12 July, 1983

(DAN)  Today was pretty quiet, mostly spent in preparation for our departure. We spent quite a bit of time washing clothes and just talking with Shelley in the kitchen. Like the dinner table in Kolwezi, I shall remember Garsfontein for the kitchen and space heater.

Shelley had the two Cochrane children for the day, and we went down to the local cafe (KAFEE) (shop quick) to get hot dogs for lunch. They were not too different from their U.S. counterpart but had their own special features. The “sausage” was split and had a lot of lettuce on it. It was also twice the normal length.

For supper we were invited over to the Gusseys’. John Gussey is known as a curry expert, and last week Shelley kind of invited us all over. The Gusseys seem to be Shelley’s best friends.

The Gusseys are 15-year immigrants from Cornwall, and his accent is strong. As recent immigrants, they again seem to be conservative along racial lines. John used both “pick­anin” and “coon” in his stories (though Hermann defined pickanin as an affectionate term for young blacks). John mentioned that he’d had some contracts out at MEDUNSA and that it was a pity that such fine facilities were being given to the blacks. “They just don’t know how to handle that sort of thing and will tear it up in two years.”

They “built their house themselves” and it is quite something. It has 4 bedrooms, 3 baths (including a large Jacuzzi), a swimming pool, a family room, a living (video) room, a huge kitchen and a dining room that looks out over the city. After all this, they just sold the house for 160,000 Rand, but will still live here for a while.

The curry was excellent: we started off with rice and a main chicken sauce. In addi­tion there were about 6 hot sauces, curries, chutneys (mango, lime, mixed, etc.) and even coconut to sprinkle on top.

We headed home a bit early because everybody had something to do, but we ended up watching a segment of Shogun. They are showing it once a week on Tuesdays, but last week we were still bathing in our mail. Perhaps mail is the only cure for mini-series-itis.

I couldn’t blame Richard for procrastinating. They are working on grades right now at his school, and under their system it involves writing a short report on each girl for each subject. This report must first be approved by the superior and then put in the res­pective child’s report card -- in blue India ink. If one teacher makes a mistake, then all the teachers have to rewrite that report card. They have been using this method since the turn of the century. Richard teaches six grades I believe.

Pretoria - Jo’burg, South Africa, Wednesday, 13 July, 1983

The Cochranes came by to pick us up at 8:30 and we headed off for a look at some of SA’s research establishments. Both Cochranes work at CSIR (Center for Scientific and Indus­trial Research) and he had offered to show us around his department. Mrs. C. is a biologist but is working in the library in some capacity.

Kevern is a fisheries biologist working on a study of eutrophication on Hartbeestport dam, and he had had arranged for us to speak with some of his colleagues.

Kevern started off giving us an overview. The dam depends on water from the Krokodile River, which in turn drains the land around Jo’burg and all of the “Reef” (the industrialized area that has grown up around the gold reef) or about half of SA’s population. As a con­sequence the lake has an incredibly high level of nutrients and is currently suffering from a large algae bloom.

Two years ago the big problem was with water hyacinth. At one time this plant choked 70% of the surface of the dam. We talked with the expert in this area. They finally controlled the water hyacinth simply by pouring on the herbicide. According to this man, the notorious water hyacinth originally came from South America, specifically Venezuela. It has only recently been introduced to Africa and has no effective natural enemy, which explains the large number we saw on the Congo River.

The problem now is the algae and Kevern is working on the fish side of the problem. He says that they are not yet in danger of oxygen depletion, and that fish are at a peak. However, the dam is a favorite holiday place for people in power, so something must be found to alter the situation, at least aesthetically.

We spoke with one scientist who mainly talked about his last project where he was helping evaluate the effectiveness of cloud seeding. The results are that it is not yet feasible in South Africa. They brought in an “expert” company from Colorado, but the re­sult was that per gallon of rain produced, the price was higher than bottled water. He gave me a soil survey of the area that had been carried out to study the effects.

Kevern rejoined us and we headed to the Botanical Research Garden (in his car). Mrs. Cochrane had worked there a while and Kevern had some connections. It was arranged for a woman (Public Relations) to show us around the gardens and we set off.

The woman who showed us around was quite a character. She was mid fortyish (or older) and dressed to the teeth in gypsy type clothes, boots, shawl, and a wide brim straw hat. She further distinguished herself with some of her comments about the “Bantu” staff.  She told us --twice-- that yesterday she had held a small lecture for “her” Bantu workmen. “It was most basic; I even used key words in Sotho and Zulu, but they still didn’t under­stand. It was so basic that I made the rule that no Europeans should be present so they wouldn’t be embarrassed.” I don’t know if she didn’t want to embarrass them or Them.

She admitted that she was not a botanist: “they let the blind lead the blind here,” but seemed to know quite a bit about aloes and cycads. So that is what she showed us mainly. The gardens are truly interesting. They are set up over something like 70 acres with different areas planted with “Biomes” from different parts of the country. There was a Western Cape area, a Natal Coastal, etc. Each area has different management schemes (watering, etc.) and is separated from the others by expanses of lawn.

An example of a local vegetation type, again featuring aloes.

We ended the short tour at the large greenhouse that houses “Rare and Endangered Species”. I had never seen a collection of such strange and unique plants. Many of the plants came from Madagascar, but there were quite a few from South Africa. One plant he is propagating is found on only one farm in the Orange Free State. Madagascar is well-known for its wide and unique gene pool, but the fellow showing us around said that many species had already been lost due to human overpopulation. He has not been able to make a trip for collection since the government changed. All in all an informative trip.

Back at the ranch we had a bite to eat and got packed up. When Richard got back from class at 1330, we headed for town. Nearly ever since we had arrived we had tried to get a shopping trip into town arranged. We were for taking the bus, but the Hatfields insisted they wanted to take us in but never really had time. Our goal was Marabastad, the area of Indian merchants where they sell cloth. We almost went Saturday, but they decided that was too dangerous. Everybody shops on Saturday, and Marabastad is reputed to be rough. Anyway, our train did not leave until 1520, so they took us for a quick trip to get cloth.

We were surprised when they took us to a fairly new concrete shopping center. It was the center given (?) to the Indians when they were no longer allowed to hold businesses down town. We were expecting something more on the order of the Kano Market. The selec­tion was not too great, but we got some nice cloth. The prize for waiting so long? ­“Made in Taiwan!”