68. South Africa: Johannesburg

In this post we visit two of the contacts we had hoped to link up with when we got to South Africa.  Martin and Cecily we had met in a Spanish camp ground when we were making our way south to Morocco. They had been traveling for many months at the time, including a sweep through South America where their favorite country had been …. our Bolivia.  They were hoping to emigrate to Australia when they finished their trip, so we did not expect to be able to visit them 10 months later when we were to get to South Africa.  They had not been able to emigrate so we were able to arrange a brief visit. We subsequently ran into Cecily in Tangiers which she was able to visit on her Irish passport, while Martin, with only a South African passport, was not able to visit.  We ran into her on the street, and she was glad to have company, shared our hostel room and braved the Tangier touts together . 

Our other contact was Tshepo Molope.  We did not explain in the diary who he was, as it was expected that our immediate readers knew of him.  Due to our parents work arrangements Dan graduated from high school in Winfield, Kansas and then went on an AFS summer exchange student program to Thailand. When he returned from that trip, the incoming exchange student was Tshepo, from Soweto, who stayed the school year of 1978-79 in Winfield, with a family from our parent´s church.  Dan had only met him a couple of time, and we had trouble tracking him down.  However in retrospect he was the only Black person that we were able to talk with in depth, in nearly a month in South Africa.  There was, after all, this thing called Apartheid.

Our trip through South Africa, marked in yellow.

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

We said goodbye to the Hatfields at the train station and got right on. It left on time and arrived in Jo’burg 2 minutes late. Martin was waiting for us at the top of the “Whites only” stairs, so we had no trouble making the connection.

What a transformation! He had on a suit and tie, and when we got to the parking lot found he was driving a brand new, luxury Audi (turned out to be a company car --to be expanded on). They live about 30 minutes’ drive from downtown (where he works) and when we got home, the door was open and Cecily had started cooking. They have a smallish three-bedroom house with a fair-sized lawn in a suburb called Edenvale.

Martin and Cecily looked different than they did in the Spanish camp ground.

Cecily was already in a running suit, and it did not take Martin 5 minutes to change into his. Then it was much more like the previous time we had seen them. Talk turned naturally to racial issues, and we found that their attitudes had not changed much. They did comment on how easy it was just to fall back into the system once they heard that they could not go to Australia, and they started to look for jobs, and they were on the tread­mill again. Martin got a job with Coca Cola, and got a company car. To save money they bought this house; now Cecily works for a drug company, and SHE has a fairly new company car as well.

Cecily was not feeling well and went to bed fairly early. We stayed up a while longer looking at the picture album from their trip last year. They got a letter from a casual acquaintance in Malawi. Somebody like the hundreds we have met. After a chatty first page, he asked if they could send some interesting magazines or simply some interesting magazine pictures and a pocket radio. Ah yes.

Martin and Cecily both agreed that while they had been swamped with would-be pen pals in Malawi, they were never thus approached in South America.

Johannesburg, South Africa, Thursday, 14 July, 1983

(HELENA) We wanted to go into town with Martin when he left for work at 7:15, so all of us were up and breakfasted by a good and early hour. It’s a pleasant surprise to see a young couple like them believe in having their meals together and at the table. Martin’s route into town isn’t half bad because he has planned a way that has normal rather than congested traffic. He drove up into his reserved parking space on the second level of RENNIE HOUSE (a tall new building in the Braamfontein area), and we agreed to meet him there at the end of the day. Quite the executive --and he hates every minute of it, espe­cially since they don’t give him enough to do.

Jo´burg from the top of Rennie House

The first thing on our list was to go reserve our tickets back to Washington, D.C. Luckily the downtown terminal is right next to the train station and only a few blocks from Martin’s office. It is housed in a large dome-shaped building with several people available at the counter to help you. Seeing that, one would figure that we’d be finished in no time. Ha! The young man who helped us was quite gregarious and was soon telling us that he would be taking our same flight to New York. He then got out a brochure telling about the camping tour he’ll be taking in western U.S.A. We finally emerged from the building with a good knowledge of his package tour (it will hit Las Vegas, Grand Canyon, Hollywood, etc.), and, incidentally, with confirmed flights from Cape Town - Johannesburg - New York for the 2nd and 3rd of August. We’ll have to return to see if the flight into Washington is confirmed. We’re not too pleased that we’ll have an 8-hour layover in New York, but we’ll manage.

We decided to go back to RENNIE HOUSE to try to get in touch with Tshepo Mollope, the AFS exchange student from Soweto whom Dan met in Winfield. Martin came to get us at the reception desk and helped Dan get in touch with the right person at Anglo American. All Dan knew was that Tshepo had an engineering scholarship with the Anglo American mining company. Eventually Dan talked with a woman who knew Tshepo and was able to give him a home phone number for him. What luck! Dan called, but was only able to talk with Tshepo’s father, who told him to call back later. Next we went in search of the Tourist Board. It turned out to be on the 46th floor of the Canton Center, so we splurged and paid one Rand apiece to go to the lookout place on the top floor. As many people have said, it’s not a particularly beautiful city. We ordered granadilla juice and had the ham and crackers that Martin and Cecily had sent with. (By the way, I want you to know that I finished that sentence that way on purpose; that’s just the way it’s done around here.) I doubt the waiter thought much of that.

We really went wild when we got down to the ground floor. There were several “curio shops” there, so we dragged ourselves in there and actually bought a few little things. We spotted donuts in a bakery and felt suitably chastised for buying them when we found them plain in comparison to the nice greasy Bulawayo version.

Dan tried several more times to call Tshepo from a pay phone, but he still hadn’t come back home by 15:00. We decided to have a look at the Jewish Museum, but had trouble loca­ting it. After walking down the same block several times, Dan asked directions in at a jewelry shop. Sure enough, they knew where it was.

The museum contained a lot of old Jewish artefacts and pictures, so it was fairly interesting. I’m afraid that it was more for people who already know some of the history of Jewish people in South Africa.  I would have liked to know when and how they got there. But then, as usual, we just skimmed over the surface of the museum.

We got back to RENNIE HOUSE a bit early so Dan could try calling Tshepo again. Just as we got there Tshepo himself called, so he and Dan decided to meet in front of RENNIE HOUSE tomorrow at 10:00. Down at the parking garage we were joined by Glen, Cecily’s younger brother.

There was quite a crowd back home because Cecily’s father had come from Carltonville bringing Cecily’s youngest sister, Seobhan, and some furniture. It was a madhouse for a while because Mr. Gallagher is quite a character and tried to carry on a conversation with the two of us while other exchanges were going on. When Cecily arrived from work (she had a lot to say about her time management course) we decided to go out for supper. Eventually everybody agreed to stay there and cook up some boerwerste (sausage). Martin and Glen started cutting up the onion and were well on the way to a prepared meal when they decided to drop everything and go out after all. So... Martin, Glen and Dan set out to find a place where we could eat, and ended up reserving a place at a nice, little, very full restaurant.

Mr. Gallagher left to go home when the rest of us went to eat. We had to wait a long time for a place and another long time for the food, but it was worth it. Martin insisted from the outset that he would pay, so we did not have to worry about arguing when the bill came. We were all rawther full after that meal plus dessert. Dan had “carvery” which is 3 or 4 kinds of sliced, roast meat--3 slices each-- with as much as he could eat of six vegetables, and I had “ox-tail mash,” a delicious ox-tail stew with mashed potatoes. “Ach, it’s a good life,” as Cecily has been known to remark.

Last night Dan had the double bed with the Peruvian alpaca cover, and I had the room with the single bed. We almost do not know how to sleep when we are in separate rooms. Tonight everyone insisted that we continue in the same rooms. That meant Seobhan and Glen slept in sleeping bags in the lounge.

As is the case in most of South Africa, water is scarce here, too. One of Martin’s clever solutions was to hook a hose to the drain at the kitchen sink and bathtub drain and let that water feed the garden rather than be lost forever down the drain.

Johannesburg, South Africa, Friday, 15 July, 1983

(DAN) We went into Jo’burg again with Martin. Cecily’s father last night offered to arrange a visit down a gold mine, so we decided to change our travel arrangements. Instead of getting a direct connection from Capetown to go on to the States, we would come up Sunday, have a day to see the mine, and then head on to the States on Tuesday, August 3. So, first step was the air terminal again. This time we got a very efficient woman, and we were finished in ten minutes. Our flight is now supposedly confirmed to Washington, D. C.

We had 90 minutes to kill before meeting with Tshepo, so we sat in the very comfortable lounge at the “air terminal,” had a pot of tea and did some writing. Amusing tidbit: a sign with “CUPPACHINO -50 CENTS”.

At 0945 we headed for our meeting with Tshepo and a most interesting day. I only met Tshepo twice and would not have known him on the street, but we must have been un­mistakable. He is about my height, slight and has a half afro. Witwatersrand University or “Wits” is only 5 blocks from Martin’s building, so we started out in that direction to look around.

Contrary to the story I have been guilty of spreading, he IS allowed on campus. In fact he showed us through the buildings he uses including the library. “Wits” is the most liberal establishment in South Africa.  There was a large sign outside the Student Union that said “Solidarity with the condemned three”. I take that to mean the recently hanged men. This sign had been allowed to remain. Tshepo says that a lot of such things are allowed, as long as it stays on campus. He said that quite a few of the White students are “liberal, even marxist, but we wonder whatever happens to them when they leave”.

Tshepo and Helena on the Witwatersrand University Campus

One of the first buildings he took us to see had a huge enclosed courtyard called the concourse. There are cafeteria arrangements, so we got coffee and donuts and had a long talk at one of the tables. Even though Tshepo chose the place, he seemed really ner­vous and was constantly looking from side to side. (Later we asked about it and he said it was only because he did not want to miss any of his friends.)

He pointed out the president of the black students at the next table and greeted him, but did not introduce us. One of the first things he mentioned was that he does not receive a lot of direct discrimination at school. On the contrary, he says that many whites tend to try to overcompensate and pity. Yet he does not know any white students that he can really trust. The teachers, on the other hand, do not expect anything from him because he is black.

His scholarship from the giant, Anglo-American mining company, is very generous, pay­ing tuition, board, books, and even some spending money. I believe he said there are twenty blacks in this program at Wits in many different curricula. He says that even about such a program he must be wary. “It is fairly accepted that Anglo-American is spending millions of dollars trying to create a black elite. This elite will ideally identify more with the establishment than the struggles for liberation. They are trying to do that with me! What am I to do?” Periodically the company will invite all of this group out to fancy restaurants, but he does not go. “They want us to develop a taste for that kind of life.” This “educating the Blacks” is one of the cornerstones of Openheimer’s “liberalism”. But along in here Tshepo mentioned that in some ways blacks, or at least activists, are most bitter about whites who consider themselves liberal. “With the Afri­kaaner at least you know where you stand. The liberal whites talk, but they are not ready to give up their advantaged life.”

Something he kept coming back to is that “the whites in this country just have too much, too much, and they are not ready to lose any of it. The system is geared to that.” He told of an incident one vacation when he was out on an internship for “Anglo”. He had been at the establishment a while when a white immigrant from Zimbabwe was hired. “When he arrived, he had nothing, but within a week he was driving a nice car and buying a house in a good neighborhood.” Those are things that blacks working faithfully for the company for years could never hope to do.

On the subject of Apartheid he said, as I recall, two main things: even if these laws were repealed today, it would only be a cosmetic change; the feelings run far too deep for an immediate-type reconciliation. On the other hand he attributes much of the racial tension to this very policy. “We are born apart, grow up apart, live apart and die apart. Nobody knows the other person at all which leads to great misconception which is the real basis for racism. The government now in office is supposed to be making reforms to the extent that they have alienated the extreme right wing. But in reality the apartness is becoming more entrenched and institutionalized” (e.g.MEDUNSA, Shoshanguve, etc.).

On the idea of the “independent homelands” he opined that there are now two large groupings of black people, rural blacks and urban blacks. “I am an urban black, and though we could be removed to Bophuthatswana whenever the government feels like it, I have no ties to it either in interests or abilities.” Later he told us that though he had been born in Germistown (a suburb of Jo’burg) and it is marked thus on his birth certificate, but when he went to get his passport for the trip to the U. S., his passport declared that he was born in Bophuthatswana which did not even exist at that time. This will hang over his head from now on. He must either behave as the government wants or be sent to Bophu­thatswana, a place where he has no family ties anymore.

He appeared deliberately to avoid the subject of tribe. I asked more or less directly what tribe he is from, but he never said. Later he introduced us to a fellow student who is also on “Anglo” payroll. He mentioned that the friend is from Natal, but where everybody else would have said, “he’s a Zulu”, Tshepo said nothing. I did not pursue it, but I would not wonder if the urban black youth are trying to get away from tribalism.

(HELENA) For lunch Tshepo suggested we go to a pizza place. My pizza was a bit short on the boerworste, but the mango juice was good (except that the waiter knocked mine over onto Dan) and the white and smiling waitress and waiter treated us very well. It is a multiracial restaurant, but apparently they could not have served liquor to us as a mixed group. “Shame.” (That is a very common response here.)

At 1400 we headed to the local Postkantoor to try to call Mother and Daddy (in the US). We expected to be told to go to the main post office, but we were pleasantly surprised when they told us to go around the corner and up the stairs to a small office. The young wo­man who placed the call for us had a strong Afrikaaner accent that we thought was neat to hear. There were no booths, so she just had Dan come behind the counter and sit at the desk. Daddy answered and had the message in under three minutes.  Only two Robisons could have such an efficient call, after months of no direct communication. At least we hope Daddy got our correct time, date, and flight number.

Tshepo had accompanied us there, but then had something else to do, so he walked with us back to RENNIE HOUSE. Oh, before that, he asked if we’d like to visit the AFS office. Personally, I didn’t know what on earth we’d do there, but we said “sure” anyway. (DAN) He wanted to go himself as the office had been moved and he didn’t know if he knew any people at the office anymore. He turned out to know one woman quite well, and though the office was quite busy, she took off a moment to talk with us.

They were busy because last night 60 SA students arrived back from the USA and day after tomorrow 60 more leave. I believe the New York auditor had just arrived to boot. Mainly we talked about Thailand because they currently have a “girl” there and she is hav­ing trouble with the “conservatism” (and because Dan had been and AFS exchange student to Thailand). I believe there must be quite an undercurrent in the office. The woman herself is colored, but the man in charge was white. Tshepo said that it was the woman who had pushed for his selection.

(HELENA) After Tshepo left us, we sat in a park (writing, of course) until time to meet Martin. This time Seobhan, Cecily’s sister, went home with us. She had come in in the morning with us, along with her brother Glen, and had spent the day at the zoo and the movies. After supper (we had the sausages that Martin and Glen had begun to prepare last night; the noteworthy thing about these boerworste is their strong nutmeg taste), we all got in Martin’s company car and went looking for guava smears or leather. The store had none, so we settled for canned guava halves to go on ice cream. Ach, it’s a fine life.

The evening was spent getting ready for tomorrow’s trip to the Natal coast. Nigel Andrews arrived after 21:00 and we all talked for a bit over hot Milo in Dan’s room because Seobhan had already gone to bed in the lounge. Dan and I had fun going through Martin’s trip diary and letters home that he’d written while they were traveling. They’re the only others we’ve seen that made a constant effort to record their travels and keep in touch with family. It made us rather envious to see how his writing was so enriched by drawings he’d made and even little cut out pictures. It’s a little late for this trip, but maybe for next time (ehem) we can take drawing lessons.

Dan and I shared “his”            room this time so that Nigel could have a bed.