Before arriving in South Africa, Apartheid seemed to be such a thing of the past. A blemish on South Africa’s history that they had courageously overcome. However, some alarmingly stark contrasts have proven that it very much still has its clutches in some aspects of South African society. As much as we were delving into the culture and realities of the black townships we visited, just as other privileged whites we were able to freely leave those areas at the end of the day and retreat to our full hearty meals and nice hotels. The contrast really jumped out at me through our visits with the children at Nomzamo creche, Christine Revell Childrens’ Home, and Ekukhanyisweni Primary School, all located in townships throughout South Africa, and then our visit to the posh seaside town of Hermanus.
Through reading Mark Mathabane’s no-holds-barred account of the life of a young black boy in the townships of Apartheid South Africa, I felt that I had really gained an understanding of sorts as to just how difficult and terrible it was for blacks to make ends meet and simply survive, let alone progress. What I was not expecting, however, was to walk into those townships and see those conditions being lived out in front of me.
In my mind, Apartheid had ended years ago, it no longer governed South Africans. What I hadn’t realized, which seems so blatantly obvious now, is that just because an official government of segregation and oppression is not in place does not mean that those roles are not still assumed and upheld. Years of oppression in terms of job opportunities obviously still stunt the economics of black communities. A decade and a half out of Apartheid, there are still dozens of townships wrought with poverty, home to innumerable families that are struggling to find work, to put food on the table, to keep roof over their heads, and to keep their kids clothed and in school. In a short 20 minute drive we could go from an impoverished township to a lavish casino, from seeing hard working black citizens sweating for every rand to ever-privileged whites frittering them away by the hundreds.
Education is another canvas for the nasty aftermath of Apartheid. In Kaffir Boy, Mark and his mother struggled immensely to get him through school, and ultimately could not even do it without the help of white people who held a higher stance in society. With the defeat of the Apartheid regime, official discrimination was abolished but opportunities are far from universal. The first creche we visited was Nomzamo Zwelihle Creche, which served the township children infants to age 5. With a tiny but amazingly hardworking staff of a teacher, a cook, and a cleaner, dozens and dozens of children their days there, even some over the summer holidays. We spent part of the day with the children, playing with them and getting to know them and really experiencing the overcrowded, underfunded creches that township children have no choice but to attend. Many families cannot even afford Nomzamo’s very nominal fee that goes towards food and supplies, yet they take them in anyways. The appreciation that we received for just a short time of playing with the children and for preparing and serving a hotdog lunch to the children was tremendous. This experience just reinforced the needs of the educational system for blacks and the residual impact of Apartheid rule.
Shortly after visiting this creche, we spent the afternoon shopping and dining in the upscale seaside town of Hermanus. Lined with nice shops and restaurants, this town is designed for leisure. As opposed to the impoverished townships where every rand counts in keeping families going, Hermanus is a place for the wealthy to spend money on far more frivolous things, not necessities in the least. In such close proximity to impoverished townships, the contrast is shocking and all too reminiscent of Apartheid times.
This theme continued as we met and worked with the children of Christine Revell Childrens’ Home, and we saw the immense disparity again – all black children except one, all left to the care of the home due to broken homes, death, abandonment, or sheer lack of funds. Our time there was short, but the emphasis it had on the remainders of Apartheid aftermath was great.
We spent three days, although we had originally planned for one, with the classes at Ekukhanyisweni Primary school. Prior to our arrival in South Africa, the class had taken up donations of $40 We played with the children and got to know them that way, but also split up among the classrooms and took careful time to interview the children identified as “needy” in grades 4-7 in order to determine what we should try to supply for each child with our funds. It was a difficult process because we all became so attached to “our kids” and wanted to give them everything, but supplies were limited. We were able to give something to each needy child and even a few more, as well as school supplies for each class, but we were still faced with the stark reality of just how lacking this school and student body were. We couldn’t get every student shoes, and we couldn’t put a globe in every classroom. Even with our service partnership, the school was still so hindered by poverty.
Seeing a school community that fights and struggles so hard for an education in the face of poverty and less opportunities is so reminiscent of Mark Mathabane’s own struggles that seemed so distant with the end of Apartheid. Unfortunately, it is still a part of South Africa. So long as there are wealthy white people spending money on leisure and luxuries in Hermanus just down the road from a struggling, overcrowded and underfunded black school, it will be quite impossible to deny the presence of Apartheid effects in modern South Africa.